#osamu miya imagines

[sorreldolli]

9:23pm

Sometimes, you just want silence.

Away from everyone.

No hard feelings, of course—they understand how tired you are.

How drained you become after work.

You love them. That’s not the issue.

It’s just.. people need to much.

And sometimes, you don’t have anything left to give.

So you sit on the edge of your bed, silently, still wearing the clothes you sworn you’d change out of an hour ago. The room hums with nothing but the low whirr of the fan. And for the first time today, you’re not performing.

You’re just breathing.

You barely hear the door creek open.

No dramatic footsteps, no one calling your name—just a soft rustle, and arms moving to wrap around you.

The silence stretches between you, but it doesn’t feel heavy. It feels.. safe

“I missed you,” your boyfriend whispered in your ear.

And although you don’t respond right away, your chest finally, finally starts to loosen.

So you nod—and he squeezes a little tighter.

Sometimes, you want silence.

Away from everyone.

But the remembrance and comfort of someone close by, understanding you, loving you speaks volumes silence couldn’t.

NANAMI, megumi, renji, ARMIN, OSAMU, daichi, GETO, + your favs

[emmyrosee]

single dad tattoo artist osamu miya who lets his little girl color in his tattoos there i said it

NO YOU SHOULD SAY IT BC YOURE RIGHT HOMIE

Just tired dad Osamu who loves his tiny terror more than words, more than he can fathom, but still sometimes plops his little girl on the couch next to him with washable markers and some paper, and tells her only slightly serious “okay, but whatever you do, don’t color my tattoos okay?” so he can take a lil nap.

And Rumi just giggles a bit and nods, and sure enough within a few minutes, after osamu’s eyes slowly drift to sleep, she’s on top of his thigh, tiny hand bracing herself on his chest and coloring in one of the tigers. Then she moves to the massive tree he has wrapped around his thick arm, coating the dark ink with pretty leaves.

Then, she goes to the fox on his left side, using blue for its pretty eyes and putting a nice red collar on it, affectionately dubbing ‘him’ kimchi. The fox itself is colored orange, despite the intention being of a white fox. By that time, osamu’s hour alarm has gone off, and he blinks awake, listening happily while she rambles on about all the tattoos she colored in.

OOOOO OR OR OR when he plops down at his desk to draw some stencils, she’s right next to him on the floor, coloring the intricate ink of the snake, humming softly. She’s focused on the task at hand, and calls for her father’s attention once she finally puts the finishing touches on it. “Daddy, I made him all sorts of blue and green!”

“You sure did, baby,” he hums, scooping her in his big arms and kissing her cheek, relishing in the giggles she gives him. Then, he plops her down on his other side, “daddy’s got a little bit more to do; why don’t you draw me a new tattoo? The other one you drew on me was so good.”

She gasps in excitement before getting to work, using her markers to draw a picture on her father’s leg that will, come tomorrow thanks to his home-kit, become a tattoo that lives forever in the ink adorning his body.

[ririleil]

osamu miya surprises you with onigiri (a new and special dish) to calm your nerves

capstone fest. research presentations. you were practically vibrating with nerves and anxiety the morning of your long-awaited exhibition at one of the biggest research events you had poured your blood, sweat, and tears, and your entire past year into. 

the slides you made were perfect, you studied so hard you practically memorized your entire research, and you were so sure you'd correctly answer the number of questions you made up in your mind that you are so sure that the panelists are bound to ask.

you were overprepared to say the least— but your stomach was a mess, you were pacing back and forth anxiously near the stage where you'll present in front of so many people, and you were seconds away from losing your mind. 

and that's when osamu showed up.

“heya, sunshine.”

you turned and there he was, standing there with an easy handsome smile just reserved for you. on his hand, he held a small bento tied with a neat ribbon.

“osamu? what are you doing here? and what's that?” you asked, pointing out the small bento he held.

“i remember ya mentioned that ya have that big presentation coming up today. i'm here to support ya.” 

“samu, you didn't have to”

“but i want to. it's still not yer time, is it?”

“two presenters left then it's my turn. why?”

“before ya go in, i brought ya this.” he gently nudged the bento box right into your hands. “figured ya might need a little somethin’ to calm those nerves. a bit of luck, i thought.”

you blinked down at it, then back up to osamu. “osamu…”

“open it” he said with a very gentle smile on his face that made your chest tighten. you untied the ribbon and opened the lid to see 3 small onigiris in the shape of hearts, decorated with furikake on top. you let out a breathy laugh, touched beyond words. 

“this is… oh, samu. it's so adorable. this looks way too fancy to eat.”

“special occasion. special person.” 

you picked one heart up and bit into one, feeling your nerves melting away as the perfect flavors balance and burst into your mouth and as if on cue, the tight knots in your stomach finally loosened. osamu watched you carefully and looked pleased when your shoulders finally relaxed.

“mhm. this is a new recipe, isn't it?”

“yeah. might think of callin' it the lucky charm special in the menu or somethin'.”

you laughed “why, think it'll help me by giving me luck? i don't think this could be handled by just luck, if im being honest.”

“don't worry,” he whispered, leaning in to give you a kiss on your temple. “yer gonna do amazing because it's you. i believe in ya.”

.

the rest of the morning flew by in a blur of slides, questions, and polite yet astounding applause. and then it was over. you did it. perfectly too. 

the moment you saw him waiting for you outside the hall, you didn’t even hesitate. you ran straight into his arms, throwing and giggling yourself against his chest. he caught you easily, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you slightly off the ground as he spun you around, laughing with you.

“toldja ya'd kill yer presentation. it was great.” he murmured against your ear, voice filled with so much pride it made your chest ache. you leaned back with a wide smile on your face. 

“it was the onigiri. i think it gave me luck or something like that.”

“oh, so ya believe in luck now?”

“no.” you shook your head gently then gave him a slight peck on his cheek. 

“i believe in you making me feel better.” 

osamu’s eyes softened, his gaze tracing your face like you were something delicate and precious. then he leaned in, his hand sliding up to cradle your cheek as he kissed you. slow, deep, and full of quiet affection. not rushed. not showy. it was just osamu, pouring every ounce of his love into that kiss.

“that a new lip balm?” his voice low and warm when he pulled away from your lips 

you let out a soft laugh, cheeks flushed. “yep.”

he smiled, brushing his thumb gently over your lips like he didn’t want to let go just yet.

“guess i’ll be stealin’ more kisses today then” 

“guess you will.”

a/n: i finally wrote osamu with his accent for the first time. it was fun writing it (i tried 😔).

dividers: @/enchanthings

© RIRILEIL 2025 | do not copy, repost, or translate without my permission

[vilintciay]

"Body Tease" - OSAMU MIYA X READER

content warning: smut!!, breast & thigh groping, teasing, osamu is a little shit, reader has sensitive boobs lmao, osamu is a bully ngl, degradation, slight grinding, slight breath play, slight face slapping, swearing.

pairing: Osamu Miya x !sensitive reader word count: (1.6k)!

"Stay still..what the hell are ya' even doing..?"

Osamu murmured lowly, reaching an arm towards your figure, his palm slowly sliding down to your stomach to your lower hip pressed onto the mattress.

He wrapped that arm around your waist to bring you close, stopping your annoying back-and-forth shuffling. Grumbling something about 'losing his focus of trying to sleep' from the disturbance with your movements.

You'd groan lowly in discomfort, furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance from the lack of space the small singular bed provided, muttering something back with the same annoyed tone.

"Ugh.. Shut up. It's not my fault ur fatass is taking up most of the space in this cramped ass bed."

Osamu scoffed, his annoyance growing. He tightened his grip on your waist and rested his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent. Your back basically pressed onto his front now.

"y're exaggerating.. It's a small bed." He mumbled in his low-toned grumble, his palm caressing your stomach slowly and later your lower abdomen, eventually snaking that same palm under your shirt to rub on the skin on your tummy, causing your stomach to involuntarily flex from the ticklish contact.

"Tch.. Just shut up n go t'sleep already.." You mumbled, turning your head to stuff your face into the pillow to get more comfortable and try to get some shut eye. Aware of his wandering hand but brushing it off, too sleepy to care.

Osamu would huff, rolling his eyes before shutting them as well, keeping you close with his arm around your waist. His hand mindlessly tracing circles on your tummy before making its way up your shirt, cupping a tit and squeezing it to help him relax.

Your eyebrows would twitch, furrowing them and letting out a small noise, torso slightly flexing from the contact of his palm on your nipple, sending little electric waves down your body and stomach.

You could feel the nipple slowly harden with his kneading, your annoyance and irratation bubbling up again from the lost of focus. "gh-.. damn it, 'samu hands off.. what're you.." You'd turn your head slightly towards him, eyes still tired and shut, placing a hand on his forearm to try and stop his movements.

"what."

His tone was bored and tired, clearly annoyed from the interruption of his concentration again, his hand never faltering it's movements on your breast as he nuzzled his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his free arm snaking under you to wrap around your waist and his free hand caressing one of your hips.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress another low moan at the way his large hands would knead your breast so firmly, one of your free hands gripping at the sheet under you for support in keeping your shit together.

"Stop fucking squirming like that, I can't sleep." He'd murmur again, the rough annoyed tone in his voice caused your frustration to boil up even more as you sucked in a breath, gritting your teeth.

"Stop touching my shit Osamu, I can't slee- nh-..ah" You'd lean your head a bit back, cutting yourself off with a low moan at a particular roll of his palm on your breast, your head leaning on his shoulder as your legs hiked up slightly to clam together.

"Tch, ye'r so goddamn sensitive. m'barely touching ya'" He'd gruff lowly, annoyed to hell and back from your squirming as if he wasn't the reason why.

He'd continue kneading and squeezing at your flesh, brushing off your pleas and demands with a roll of his eyes. Damn it, could you just shut up? Your tits felt so soft and squeezable against his rough hands, why would he wanna stop now? Last time he checked it wasn't his problem that it caused you so much trouble.

Your body would shudder slightly at his words, biting your lip helplessly as he pleases himself with feeling on your flushed and almost twitching body. Face flushing a deeper red with each squeeze and knead, your stiff body arching slightly from the sensation that kept you bound and squirming on the bed.

You brought the back of your hand that was previously gripping the sheets below you to cover up the noises you accidentally let slip, your breathing starting to labour, growing even more sensitive with each intensity of his fingers rubbing on your sensitive nipples. Mentally cursing his nonchalance and bored like demeanor while I was over here getting used, panting and whimpering like an animal just cause he wanted to grope a pair of tits to help him sleep.

"Mmhn-.. Fuck-.. y-... s-such an- asshole-.."

He snorted, finding amusement in your misery as he smirked against your neck, slightly nipping at the skin there to keep his mouth busy, —and bonus points to egg you on further. "Mm.. what can I say..? u're easy.." He murmured, his other hand caressing your hips moving down to your legs to give a firm grip and squeeze to the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

You'd barely stifle another moan on your hand, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut. The feeling of both his hands squeezing and kneading on you plus the feeling of his breath and soft lips grazing, nipping, and licking on that specific sensitive patch of skin on your neck was clouding your mind. Fuck, you were going crazy, the knot in your stomach tightening within each minute.

".. Keep it down, dumbass.. m'trying to sleep e're.." He'd huff again, laced with that same tired tone but you could hear the smirk in his voice and you hated that you could practically feel the ache shooting down your stomach to your legs, leaving your already damp panties to sit in more soak.

"S-shit.. mmff-.. God, shut upfhk-..!"

You felt yourself almost choke at the way he'd cut you off, lifting his hand from under your shirt to shove two digits in your mouth, not even knowing if it's to shut you up or to lubricate them. Either way, you were too fucking lost to even care, sucking and swirling your soft tongue on the thick fingers, almost rolling your eyes back from the way groans behind you.

"Fuuck.." He breathes on your neck and you swore you felt one of his legs twitch behind you, the hand kneading your thigh moving up to press and rub on your clothed cunt. Involuntarily causing you to clamp your legs tighter, trapping his hand between your plush thighs with another choked moan around his fingers. "Damn it, I could feel it. . u're fucking soaked.. Needy bitch.."

"..u're enjoying this aren't you..? yeah, yeah y'are.. ..pantin' like a dog in heat after only a few squeezes."

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, lightly tapping a slap twice on your cheek before cupping both in his hand as he lets out a low mocking laugh. "you're fucking pathetic, shit."

And you couldn't help but whine desperately, that same tight knot in your stomach from his words just begging to snap. His hand cupping your face returning to squeeze and paw at your breasts again, fingers coated with saliva— your saliva... you couldn't help but be aware yet so lost in your clouded mind — rubbed and pulled on your oh so sensitive bud, causing even stronger shockwaves drop down to your stomach, shooting down to your soaked cunt. And at that point you couldn't even suppress the soft moans and whimpers that would fall from your lips.

"Ah.. Ahh.. ahhnn- f-fuuuck- ah- ah-nn mmm- s-samu- osamu-..!" Finally it dawned on you. Shit, you were close. Just a few squeezes and you were already putty in his hands like a damn bitch in heat. Wait, why do I feel like someone had *just* said that? Nevermind. You were literally about to cum from only getting your tits kneaded and you didn't even try to put up a fight in the first place. How embarrassing.

You stuffed your face into the pillow once more, whining, groaning, moaning, whimpering, crying. Shit, you completely lost yourself at this point. All you could do was chase your high, no longer caring if you moaned or cried too loud.

Osamu, continued to suck on your nape, guiding you through it almost sweetly as if he hasn't been torturing you this entire time, snaking up his other hand under your shirt to squeeze at both of your tits, moaning softly at the feeling of your soft flesh on both of his hands, his hips subconsciously stuttering as he jerked his crotch on the cleft of your ass, your constant moans of pleasure striking something in him.

"mmFfuck!! -.. G-gnna-gna- c-cum!.. shi-shit-!.. Osamu!!.."

"Holy shit, jus'hurry up and cum already.."

He'd roll his eyes and groan lowly on your neck, sighing and resting his face in your hair, taking in your scent. His body laying still and tired behind your squirming one. With one last rub and squeeze,

"FUuuckkK!! Cu-cumming!! .."

"Fucking finally.."

-

You'd pant against the pillow, your chest heaving intensely as you felt your heart hammer against your chest, slowly coming down and recovering from your high.

Osamu retracted his hands from under your shirt and wrapped them around your waist, bringing you closer to him as he pressed soft and gentle kisses down your neck with a tired sigh followed by a yawn.

"Mm.. y'okay?" He'd mumble against your skin, his eyes already closed and ready to pass out at any moment.

"Mmh.. Yeah.. All good-" Snores. Against your skin. Oh well.

Turning your body to wrap your arms around his neck, you brought his head close to rest on your chest before snorting lowly and shaking your head with a soft smile on your face.

"'..'night, 'samu.."

[kairismess]

was thinkinnnn~ kuroo, sugawara, makki(or iwa if you dk how to write makki), and osamu with a twitch streamer girlfriend 😉

his streamer girlfriend. (part 1)

🍥 author's note: this is kind of set during post high school, ig college timeline? just after high school and before the timeskip arc (ㆁωㆁ) !! and y'all live together ~~~

kuroo tetsurou.

"chibi-chaaaaan, you wearing my jersey again?"

your rooster headed boyfriend walked into your room, clad in nothing but those red shorts you got him last week. you immediately closed your camera, and the chat went wild. of course you were the highlight of your streams, your audience loved you–but they loved seeing your boyfriend more sometimes, especially when he was provoking and teasing you, such as now.

"ooh, what could they be doing rn?"

"SELL ME HIS JERSEY !!!"

"unfair. how could someone so handsome get someone so pretty as u wtf... !"

kuroo chuckled as he saw the flurry of messages by the corner of your screen, with you all flustered as you tried to muster an excuse as to why you were wearing his jersey from high school. "comfortable in it?" he asked you in a husky voice, pressing his hands against the arms of your computer chair, making you squeak out a noise of embarrassment, much to his (and your chat's) delight.

you turned off your camera, but you forgot to take care of your mic; so even if you didn't show your audience how cute you two looked while your boyfriend teased you, they could sure hear how adorable you two acted together–it made everyone jealous at how hot yet cute your dynamic together was.

he loved hearing you try to tell him in such futile little whimpers and mewls as he kissed your neck and caressed your waist that you were busy streaming, that you'd give his jersey back later–but he knew you'd soon forget when later will be. and besides, it'd be more fun to give your audience a show, right? you're liking this anyway, your facial expressions and body language are giving you away.

"mmm... fine, keep the jersey for a bit–but just remember, after this stream... you're all mine for tonight. the jersey looks amazing on you, but you're drop dead gorgeous when you've got nothing...– nevermind, we'll talk later, dearest. your chat's going crazy, better not let them wait, hmm?"

sugawara koushi.

"love! look at what my students drew for me!"

your eyes widened as sugawara knocked on your door and came in with a wide smile on his face. he didn't realize you were streaming today, he was just so excited to show you what his star students made for him to show their appreciation for him. sugawara always came off as quite motherly, he was always so down-to-earth and sweet–and your audience always loved it whenever sugamama, as they called him, came over and blessed the chat with his wonderful energy.

it was always wholesome whenever you two were on the stream, the chat would always go crazy whenever he'd act all sweet and tender to you.

"where to get gentlemen like these? 😭😭😭 i love sugamama so much !!"

"you two are just SO 💗💗💗"

"ARE YOU TWO GONNA GET MARRIED ONE DAY ...?"

sugawara's face got flushed when he saw that you were streaming right then and there, you didn't need to tell him you were streaming for him to get the point. he chuckled awkwardly and smiled, apologizing softly as you told him it was okay, he wasn't interrupting.

the chat loved seeing sugawara embarrassed, your chat was flooded with your fans losing it over him. you asked sugawara if you both could look at the drawings over the stream, and sugawara agreed. he showed the pictures his students drew for him (keeping the students' identities secret, of course) and you swore you could see his face brighten up a thousand times as he went on and on about his students.

your chat was not opposed to the idea of watching sugawara stream his lectures online, even if he was only training to be a teacher and only taught elementary students, they'd all flock to see content of you two together.

iwaizumi hajime.

"could you end the stream now and help keep the bed warm now, babe?"

your boyfriend was extremely impatient, he had spent the whole day out at the gym and was exhausted. he couldn't get a kiss from you when he came home because you were busy streaming, and he couldn't eat dinner with you tonight because, again, you were still streaming.

his eyebrows furrowed and his lips formed a pout, his olive green eyes bearing into the back of your head as you felt his need for your love and attention increase by a hundredfold. you told the chat you'd have to leave for a while to tend to your grumpy, overworked boy–but you didn't need to end the stream to give him your attention.

in a flash, iwaizumi picked you up, slung you over his shoulder–and much to your squeals and cries, he gently set you down on the bed and said in a gruff voice, "sleep. you've been at this for hours, and i've been needing you for the whole day. let them watch, just sleep with me, babe."

"DID YOU SEE THOSE BICEPS?"

"oh to be carried by a man like that... (◠‿◕)"

"i demand to be loved like this NOW 💥💥💥"

"and you'd better not be thinking of squirming out of my grasp." he grumbled as he wrapped his big, bulging arm around your waist, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. well... this was gonna be the longest stream you've ever had.

miya osamu.

"have ya eaten, sweetpea? you've been in front of the computer all day, hon."

you nearly jumped out of your computer chair when osamu came by, with a plateful of your favorite food for dinner. he understood that your job had quite hectic schedules, and he supports you wholeheartedly; though he does wish you won't forget to feed yourself and take a break every now and then.

you tried to whisper to him that you were currently streaming, but he didn't see that as a reason not to eat. "ah, what do i care if you have people watchin' ya right now? it ain't obscene ta eat, if anythin', y'all better tell m'sweet t'eat, set yer clocks to remind 'er ta eat, that way she will." osamu told your audience, with them all agreeing, making him smile down at you as you stared at him, embarrassed that he made your audience remind you to eat.

"you heard him, SET YOUR CLOCKS GUYS"

"DON'T THINK IT'S UNIMPORTANT TO EAT, EAT UP GIRLIE !!!"

"please don't forget to eat for our sake 😭😭😭"

"now, eat up hon." he tells you softly, leaving a kiss on the side of your head, making your audience go crazy over how affectionate and caring your boyfriend was for you.

[kairiscorner]

i blame yang for this @xoxo-cha she better wait until i get into baldur's gate 3, I WILL NEVER LEAVE HER ALONE WITH ASTARION THOUGHTS AS REVENGE

(timeskip) osamu miya as your husband.

he definitely cooks for you, ALL THE TIME (or whenever he can!) he loves cooking and food, and he loves you on top of all those things; to see you enjoy the food he makes really brightens him up and makes him more motivated to get through the day all to see you smile because of the food he makes you.

but you gotta admit, when he's cooking and in the zone, he looks so fucking hot

he loves staying in bed with you and having your smaller, softer body being wrapped around his arms; he may have quit volleyball, but he still keeps himself fit with exercise—his arms are so... muscular, you're just so snug in between his biceps :D

you actually have to wake him up every morning, and it's a challenge. he's been so used to looking after and keeping atsumu in check that he's enjoying all his time being with you in bed and not wanting to wake up until it's opening time for his onigiri shop.

he always mumbles in his half-sleepy daze how it's 'too early' and how he can't function right now unless you kiss him all over or drag him out of bed (he got atsumu's childishness way later in life it seems)

he does know his limits though and doesn't want to burden you too much, which is why when he's the one managing the shop and you're going out to work or run errands, he does almost all the housework for you; he considers it as his daily exercise anyway !!

he isn't super clingy, though he does miss you quite often—he will sometimes seem like he's out of the mood when you're not around or you've been away from him for too long, and when you come back, he literally perks up and smiles a lot more often to have you with him.

he also offers to drive you around whenever he can, he doesn't want you having to commute on your own or walk the whole distance to where you're going—you're his spouse, he feels like you should be getting treated by him all the time, it's his obligation ever since you two married, to him.

he does sneak his large, calloused palms over your thighs while he's driving; call it an instinct if you want, but it's more like his routine whenever you're in the passenger seat next to him: to hold, roam his palm over, and squeeze your pretty thighs.

[forusomimiya]

hi love, so there is this *thirst* came to my mind and had to share with you obv if you are uncomfy with that you can just delete this ask

But osamu… osamu with beefy arms that can put reader on top of the counter of their house… he won’t do that in onigiri miya because it is more ‘violation of regulations’ etc. and he can just grind up to her.. yk bc he can reach there,, and he would spill filthy thoughts in her ear, maybe nibble on her neck, leave her hot and needy, then he’d just pretend he didn’t do it at all,, and continue what he was doing, just to see her blown irises, needy breaths and maybe even some begging too

Bc for sure osamu does love when reader begs for his attention

"Samu!" His beefy arms carry you in a jiffy to the kitchen counter, where he sits you down and spreads, without a hint of kindness, your legs to get between them, leaning over the edge of the marble, waiting for an explanation for something that even you can't explain. "What's wrong?" his eyes dive to your underwear and back to you.

Oh, right. You forgot you were home alone and opted to use your new outfit for the first time. You wanted it to be a surprise for Osamu but well, since he's already ruined it, what less than enjoy what may be to come.

"I like your new buy" his eyes roam over your skin, lingering on the blush beginning to grow on your cheeks, before studying your lips, separating to let the air escape. "I thought you'd wear it for a special occasion."

“Yeaah, umm…” not a stupid word you can spit out. So confident that you can take control of the situation, that when the man's body in front of you makes you shiver, you can only babble.

"Umm? Are you getting jumpy, kitty?" his calloused fingers caress your cheek, and as time passes, your heart beats faster. It makes no sense sticking to the wall to get space between both, ‘cause Osamu will drag you to the edge and have no shame in rubbing your crotch against yours. "You don't have to, babe. I'm just surprised you didn't welcome me properly."

You can't help but nibble on your lip as he impulses you to tilt his head to access your neck, staying there, just inches from your skin, just enough to make it bristle as he speaks into your ear.

"Don’t know whether to teach you a lesson or let you to ruin me" you gulp and think about how to reduce your heartbeat as your eyes point to his arms, focusing on his biceps, and how a thread of veins grows from his forearm and down to the back of his hand, which you don't know when or how it has reached your thigh. "I really miss being down here so much, between these soft thighs..." a small nibble on your neck startles you, giving Osamu what he wanted to hear: a howl and his name uttered in a whimper. He smiles as he watches you grind towards him indiscreetly. "You want me? Is that it?" you nod ashamed.

Both hands have flown to your waist to pull you closer to him, handling you so easily under his grip that you can't help but let yourself go, something he's no longer even surprised by, seeing how easily you melt at his dirty words sung in your ear. He lets you grind a little more next to him before put a delicate kiss on your shoulder and pulling away from you to go back to what he was doing, with a prominent erection under his pants. You open your eyes realising that your body is missing two large hands on your waist, a six foot tall muscular built man between your legs with his warm breath giving you goosebumps and leaving you on the verge of reach an orgasm without being touched.

"Wanna eat something?" he asks looking at you as if nothing has happened, as if you weren't still on the counter, gasping, burning with your eyes his fucking body and that fucking erection that makes you drool inside. Hundred of questions roam through your head, but you only want one answered.

"Are you gonna fuck me?" Osamu sets the rice packet aside and turns to you, arms crossed, watching as you still look for a little friction on the counter.

"You really want it?" you nod and, by the size of his pupils, you know that he would also do his best to fuck you right there, without worrying about rules because that's not Onigiri Miya and he doesn't have to worry about to not violating the rules of the shop for putting you against the table and fucking you hard for a while. "Well.. keep begging and maybe I'll give you what you want"

[revasserium]

anon request: why they call it falling x osamu miya

126. why they call it falling

osamu; 1,078 words; fluff and the most fleeting of suggestive themes; really just a character study on the miya twins + reader as a conduit for character dev

he has always had someone who knew exactly what he was thinking, exactly how he was feeling. because when god made twins (or so osamu thinks), they got really fucking lazy and probably just hit ctrl+v one too many times.

when he meets you for a first time, he wonders if this is what it felt like for a hurricane and a typhoon to finally learn about each other, the only difference between them being where they occur — only an entire ocean and half a world apart.

“i think… i met someone,” he says.

“i think… i’m done with volleyball after high school ends,” he says.

“i think you’re an idiot,” atsumu says.

“do you… think i’m an idiot?” osamu asks, sitting across from you on a summer evening, long after practice has been over, but the stickiness of the day still lingers on his skin. tsumu is still mad at him, but what else is new?

you regard him for a minute, pressing your lips into a soft, thin line as you stare out across the darkening horizon.

“no…” you say finally, looking down at your hands, loose in your lap. osamu looks down at his own hands, loose in his lap, his palms littered with calluses from all the hours of practice. all the hours of dreaming.

“i don’t think you’re an idiot.”

osamu smiles, nodding, “thanks…”

the truth is that it’s been way too long since he’s felt like the shadow of himself, or perhaps of someone else, and it’s been way too long since he’s really known what it felt like to do something with his whole entire soul and feel good about it. and that’s a kind of growing up too — so he learns — that’s a kind of changing.

“we wanted to be the best,” he admits, chuckling to himself, the thought of it now somehow ridiculous in a way that it’s never been to him before. he shakes his head and sighs, shaking our his bangs from his eyes as he casts his gaze up towards the first burgeoning stars.

“you still can — what’s stopping you?” you ask, your grin going lopsided in the way he likes. and when he looks back at you, he sees the world reflected in your eyes.

later that night, when he is making music of your body with his lips skimming a line along the sharp of your exposed collarbones, when his fingers are tugging you apart, when you are pushing back against him, pushing him back into the mattress of his own bed and atsumu is nowhere to be found (probably still sulking somewhere with the rest of the team), you pull back and smile at him — the lopsided smile he loves so much and he can’t help but lean up to kiss it from your lips.

and he feels it in his own body then, the years and years and years of his practice, the years and years and years of his hard work. him and his twin brother — the mirrored half of himself, the light to (perhaps) his shadow. ying and yang and all that slow, smooth jazz.

he grins too and kisses you. he kisses you hard and fast and he makes music of his own body then, too. because his body has long since been an instrument and he was born knowing how to play every single one of its notes.

“stay,” he says, after he’s had his fill of you, because a part of him knows that he’ll be just as hungry later.

“maybe,” you answer, even as you both hear his brother come home.

atsumu comes back to find both of you asleep, the sheets twisted over your very, very naked bodies. and a part of him wants to hate it but another part of him doesn’t. he can’t.

because this is what happens when a hurricane and a typhoon learn about each other for the very first time — they are so, so much the same thing, made different only by their times and places. but they are still just beating hearts and half-caught breaths — they are still just wind and rain and a tunnel between the sea and the never-ending sky.

“what are you gonna do?” atsumu asks, not looking at his twin.

osamu shrugs, “dunno… maybe i’ll make rice balls.”

“hn. you do make good riceballs.”

“i… i think i really like her, y’know.”

atsumu heaves a long, deep breath. he nods.

“yeah. i know.”

osamu grins, “right. of course you do.”

and the truth is that when god made twins, they probably hit ctrl+v one too many times, and they have always known things about each other that no one else will ever know or fully understand. like, the things that make them different, totally and inexplicably.

“he’s gonna be the best in the world,” osamu says, his eyes bright as twin stars as you sit next to him, the pair of you glued to the match on the tv screen. there’s an apron around samu’s waist and rice sticking to his fingers.

you almost laugh.

“he already is,” you say.

it takes three seconds of osamu to turn to you, his grin going lopsided as he watches you watch him.

“i — i think i love you.”

and you really do laugh this time.

“yeah. i know.”

osamu only rolls his eyes, goes back to pressing the musubi between his palms as the commercial break cuts to some curry commercial featuring an incredibly deadpanned kageyama. he packs the rice in tight and hands it to you.

“how’s it taste?”

you take your time savoring the flavor, grinning as you take another huge bite. the smile on osamu’s face spreads and spreads and spreads.

“like the best in the world,” you say, before shoving the whole thing into your mouth just to make osamu laugh.

“you’re… an idiot.”

you swallow hard and reach for a glass of water.

osamu catches your hand and presses his lips to the inside of your wrist, letting his lips linger there even as the commercial break ends.

“i know,” you say, nodding as you both turn back to the screen. the rice is warm and fresh and the nori is crispy and just the perfect amount of salty.

“yeah, i know."

[bowtiepasta]

osamu god of aftercare miya who doesn’t know what leaving is. in gray sweats, shirtless, a ‘kiss the cook’ apron on while he’s making you breakfast the morning after? you don’t really want him to leave anyway.

butter, pancakes, and some secret third thing, pulls you from the haze of sleep before you even open your eyes. the sheets beside you are empty but still warm, proof that osamu hasn’t been up for long.

when you stir, stretching lazily, the first thing you see is him: standing by the stove in nothing but his sweatpants and an apron that hangs loose around his bare chest. he rolls his shoulders back, muscles bunching, the former act to perfectly flipping a sunnyside egg — yolk intact.

“you’re starin’,” he drawls, not looking away from the pan. who wouldn’t be? sleep is evident in his hair, apron dusted lightly with flour, and there’s a faint pink mark on his shoulder turning purple, one you don’t remember leaving but feel smug about anyway.

“you’re in my apartment, my kitchen, making me breakfast,” you manage to carry the tone through a mumble, “I think I’m allowed to look.”

he huffs out a laugh, setting a fresh pancake onto the growing stack on the counter. “fair enough.”

“planning on leaving anytime soon?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ear and drizzling syrup over your portion. he stares a moment, eyes soft and crinkling at the ends, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I ain’t leavin’ until you're full.”

[noosayog]

[3:47 pm] ft miya osamu

wc: 700

--

When you slam open Atsumu’s bedroom door and plop yourself onto the carpet next to him, he barely looks up from his phone. 

“Ever heard of knocking?”

You lay belly down on the floor and scream into the worn fuzz of the carpet. 

“Gross. You know our bare, unwashed feet walk on this floor right?” 

He offers you a pillow and you take it, squishing it between the floor and your face. Atsumu waits for your breath to run out. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Atsumuuuuu…” you bemoan. “I’m going through a crisis.” 

He says nothing, continuing to scroll on his phone but you can tell you’ve garnered some of his interest. 

“I have a secret. Like one that I can’t tell anyone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s so shameful. I’ve been keeping it to myself for, like, ever.”

“Yeah, I bet I couldn’t guess what it is.” The sarcasm is completely lost on you. 

“Yeah. You’d make fun of me. It’d be material for you to tease me for a lifetime,” you pause, take a deep breath. “I-

“-have a big fat crush on my brother?” 

You gape. “What?” 

He looks up from his phone. He blink at you, like you’re any simpleton. “You,” he says slowly, punctuating each word, ”have a big, fat, embarrassing, crutching, debilitating crush on my brother.” 

“I didn’t even realize you knew so many big words-”

“What?” 

The two of you freeze up. 

“‘Samu!” Atsumu exclaims. “Thought you weren’t gonna be back until later tonight.”

“I wasn’t.”

He gives no other explanation. You stay still, hoping that if you don’t move or breathe, he won’t notice you. The silence stretches.

“Ohhh.. kay. Well, I better go. You kids-”

You jolt awake at that, in disbelief that Atsumu would flee alone after what he’s done.

“I’ll go with!” You turn and run, making monumental efforts to avoid a dark eyes trained on you. 

You’re about to squeeze past when a hand slams against the doorframe, arm now blocking off your exit. Osamu stares hard at you while your gaze stays glued to the exit beyond, though it’s more like you’re staring at his bicep which is now stationed at your eye level. 

“I’m just gonna go…” you hear Atsumu mumble, ducking under Osamu’s arm barrier, stealing your escape route. 

“Jackass-” you mumble.

“Hey.” 

The low voice comes from right above your head.

“Osamu,” you greet, still staring at his arm. “I gotta go. I have plans-”

A finger comes up to lift your jaw. It’s careful, but still forceful. When your eyes finally meet his, the one finger turns into two which grip your chin in place. 

“Was what Atsumu said true?” 

It takes a lot for you to hold back a stutter. “Sounds like you heard him loud and clear to me,” you say, ready to slap his hand away. 

“I did.”

“Then why are you still asking-” 

“If it’s true,” he leans down, talking slowly. It makes you start to hyperventilate. You need a paper bag or something. “I don’t wanna hear it from my stupid brother.” 

His eyes are mesmerizing, captivating. Not even the many, many years of knowing him dulls the effect of his straightforward gaze on you. You think you hear someone concede, “it’s true.” 

“What’s true?” he whispers. He’s so close you feel his words ghost your mouth.

Autopilot talks. “That I have a big fat crush on you.” 

He eats up the next millimeter of space. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs against your lips.

Suddenly, his neck is caged inside of your arms and you’re licking up his familiar minty breath and surely this all isn’t your doing because your brain is still catching up. 

His smile widens against your lips and you can feel the smugness radiate off him. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted, then.” 

That clears the fog. You shove his shoulders away and try to ignore the fact that he doesn’t go very far.

“Why?” you demand. 

He kisses you again. “‘Cause my brother’s got a big mouth.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. Osamu takes it as an invitation to slot his face better against yours. 

His kiss almost makes you forget your train of thought, but that’s okay because he answers your question anyway. 

“And he probably would’ve blabbed that I have a big fat crush on you too.”

[swtnjk]

bf osamu things (time skip au)

[yamsfrecklvs]

cw: implied fem reader, spanking, fingering, biting, post-timeskip - not proofread

thinking about osamu miya and his big strong hands and his sudden discovery of the fact that he likes to spank you - but most importantly, that you enjoy it. it all starts out as a joke, really. you two love to playfight - in a way that never ever results in you getting hurt, of course. but this one particular time, you’re pretending to fight on the couch, laughing ‘til your ribs got tough, until he yanks you up by your waist and sprawls you on his lap, face down, ass up. he playfully bounces you on his knee before he lands a sound slap to your ass. it’s hard. a little too hard, somewhat painful, even. sure, it’s not the first time he’s ever smacked your ass - it’s a habit of his. he does it when passing by you around the house, if you’re laying on the bed, during sex, of course, or whenever he feels like it. but it was never like this, mostly because he’s aware of his strength. but today, he didn’t control the amount of force he put into the slap properly. it hurts - but oh, you love it.

you wince a little, a loud gasp coming from your mouth, eyes wide from surprise because why are you even enjoying it?

mistaking your mildly confusing pleasure for pain, his expression immediately softens, pretty eyes staring at you in worry.

“i’m so sorry, angel, did that hurt?”

it’s a little embarrassing, really. you shake your head no while he coos in an almost condescending way, his hand rubbing the reddened spot on your butt. but osamu knows you, and the fact that you’re not cracking a joke or turning to look at him in annoyance is absolutely telltale. and when he realizes it? oh.

so he tries again — he spanks you hard, exactly as he’s done instants before, and carefully observes your reactions. when he hears that cute little sound you make again, something inside him snaps. he gets it.

“you liked that, didn’t ya?”

and oh he’s such an asshole about it too, in his own, little sarcastic way. when you turn to look at him, lips in a pout and eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of embarrassment and admission, you see a flicker of sheer joy in his irises.

“don’t make a big deal out of it, ‘samu, i swear-“ you begin, only getting cut off by him spanking you again. and the little post-smack burn feels so good that you can feel the heat pooling between your thighs and you instinctively arch your back a little. he says nothing, but he takes the sight of you like this in like he’s never gonna get another chance like this, knowing damn well that yes, he will, because you can’t resist him anyway.

two minutes later, you’re still bent over on his lap. but your panties are around your ankles and he so surprised at just how wet you are from him doing so little. he’s got two fingers knuckles-deep inside you while his other hand lazily spanks you. and you could swear that it’s heaven, the way his fingers curl up inside you so perfectly, how he knows how and where to touch you. and while he says nothing, you can definitely feel his bulge poking against you. but this is not about him, no. it’s about you. it’s about making you feel good, the way you can’t help but let out gasps and moans at every single touch he reserves for you and you only. of course, it’s also about the way he can’t wait to see the purplish imprint of his hand on your ass tomorrow.

when he makes you cum on his fingers, you can tell he’s just so satisfied with himself. his hands, so big and rough now gentler against your bruised skin, cup at your ass once more. but then, he clicks his tongue in… disappointment?

you turn to him, breath still hitched. “what?”

“one sec.” he says, and he just stares at your ass for a couple of seconds before he leans down. then, a sharp pain - his teeth sinking into you. he’s biting you, the soft flesh already bruised by his digits now marked by the crescent moon of his teeth. he’s so mean and smug with it that his amusement is almost infuriating.

“sorry, baby. looked way too pretty. had to leave m’signature.”

@yamsfrecklvs i hate this but i haven’t posted in a while so ummm here ya go ig ALSO check out the lorde ref at the beginning lol

[kurooh]

MIGHT LET YOU MAKE ME JUNO ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. featuring timeskip! miya atsumu, miya osamu, kuroo tetsurō, iwaizumi hajime, & suna rintarou tryin’ to knock up their pretty wife !

warnings ★ 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, breeding, cuddlefucking, doggy, talk of kids & pregnancy, fluff, creampies, shower sex, minor cockwarming, squirting, full nelson, mirror sex, mention of lactation, mating press, cum in panties (offscreen), not proofread.

xoxo, juno ★ my namesake?! hehe, cheers to the surviving haikyuu fuckers on my blog <33 ty for your patience!! as always, send in some asks/reblog if you enjoyed, i love reading comments/tags

— MIYA ATSUMU

“go ahead ‘n slut yerself out all over my cock, baby.. fuuuck, jus’ like that.”

atsumu’s lips part around a needy moan, jaw hanging slackly in some kind of disbelief. after such a lengthy, tiring day, he found himself trudging into your shared bathroom to greet you.

he’d gotten hard in seconds, seeing your tits pressed against the glass door as well as your face, lidded eyes and cute pout enticing him to come join you. when he got onto his knees to get you ready, you’d bent over and tossed him a knowing smirk over your shoulder.

“lemme see that ass move again.. shit, ‘s perfect. yer perfect.” you giggle, throwing your ass back onto his cock, eyes rolling back when his tip kisses your cervix just right, sending sparks of pleasure right through your veins.

“tsumu, this isn’t all that fun,” you huff, the wild need for him to truly ruin you growing by the second. “wan’ you to fuck me, and make me yours.”

“baby, yer already mine,” atsumu lands a slap on your wet asscheek, startling you enough for your legs to spread further. “good girl,” he praises, hushed and under his breath. he reaches upwards and pulls the shower head down, pushes it into your hand and changes the setting.

“use this on yer clit, ‘kay? when yer feelin’ like ya wanna cum, don’t. hold it ‘n we’ll cum at the same time, yeah baby?”

you nod, and he smacks your ass hard, leaning backwards. atsumu pushes a hand through soaked gold strands, chuckling lowly although his voice has a serious edge to it. “‘s not how we say yes, is it?”

“y-yes, tsumu. at the same time.”

he draws his hips back, then finds himself advancing forward brutally. he doesn’t think about anything beside you — you, you, you. with the scent of your body wash tangling in the hot air, the beautiful curves and slopes of your body, the noises you make for him only.

your chest heaves when the steady spray of the shower head soon reaches your clit, immediately proving to be overwhelming and intense paired with him fucking you.

“so god damn tight,” atsumu hisses, nails digging crescent moons into the plush skin of your hips as his own collide with your ass. the bathroom is full of steam and the rhythmic clap of skin against skin — it’s hard to keep from trembling with how good everything feels, all over.

frantic panting cuts through the sound of your whimpers as atsumu feels himself nearing his peak. it’s nasty, downright filthy, the way your nails drag down the wall tiles as you desperately hump your ass back into him.

gasps of your name and affectionate nicknames fall from his lips like a sacred prayer, blending into a whiny harmony as atsumu’s thrusts grow rougher.

“baby,” he chokes, voice tight. “ya better be close, can barely last.”

“tsumu, cum inside me,” you beg, skin burning and pussy squeezing uncontrollably, squelching growing louder. “p-please, i can’t— i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna—” your body tenses, and the shower head falls to the floor with a clunk that neither of you register.

luckily atsumu looks down at the right moment, sees you squirt, pussy gushing onto his pelvis. as if your back arching and your clenching pussy wasn’t enough, he ends up cumming too hard, ribbons of white gushing deep into your awaiting pussy.

“fuckkk,” he groans, overstimulation setting in way too quickly and causing him to pull halfway out of your fluttering cunt.

“no, tsumu,” is all you can heave out, pushing back hard enough to send him into the wall behind him, muscled back hitting the tiles as he lets out a startled oomph. “wanna keep it inside, feels so good.”

— MIYA OSAMU

“samu,” you mumble into his lips, tossing a leg over his hip. he grunts, nose nudging your cheek as he pulls back. “yeah? what’s on yer mind, angel?”

“had a dream about a baby,” the words are spoken softly, and osamu’s fingers lightly graze your chin as he makes you look up at him. “i know it’s kinda stupid, but it was so..” your voice trails off sheepishly and there’s a pause before you admit, “you were such a good dad, samu, ‘n so sexy too.”

your bare bodies are bathed in the morning sunlight, warm and comforting as it peeks in through the curtains. this is the perfect moment with him, skin to skin, his cock still inside you as you kiss and talk about dreams of the future.

in his chest, feelings stir and ideas come to life in his head; osamu presses his hips forward with a hushed moan.

“well, i’ll give ya a baby, angel,” large hands smooth over your hips as he helps you turn away from him; then they pull you close, grabbing at your tits and tugging your nipples between his fingers.

“samu,” you sigh, words fading into a content moan as you feel his hips draw back, then advance forward, against your ass. “i want you to fill me up, give me everything.”

“only if ya take it all,” osamu huffs, tucking his face into your shoulder and closing his eyes as he starts to fuck his cock into you deeply. the thick tip kisses your sweet spot over and over, and if that wasn’t already overwhelming enough, your hand wanders towards your swollen clit.

somehow, osamu’s faster than you, releasing one of your tits and swatting away your hand before he’s finding your clit with his index finger and rubbing it in messy circles.

“s-samu, fuck— jus’ like that, don’t stop!”

your back arches against him, hips twisting as a heat spreads through your veins, fiery and intense in the best ways possible. the movement of your body and then the frantic clenching of your pussy is too intense for him; sharp whines escape his throat, muffled as osamu bites into your shoulder desperately.

“i-i— shit, ‘m gonna fill you up,” is all you can make out from his rushed mumbling, and you turn your head quickly, desperate for his lips.

“kiss me, samu. kiss me as you cum inside, please.”

it’s as though the words break him — his face twists as he kisses you, whole body tensing. he presses his cock deep, thickening and throbbing before he’s gushing cum and can’t seem to stop.

“ah, fuck,” he tosses his head back, fingers scrabbling at your nipples as his chest heaves against your back, heart pounding steadily.

you cum with a whine, grinding down on his cock in an effort to get him impossibly deeper. as you ride out your highs together, trembling deliciously, he can’t help but dissolve into giggles of pure happiness.

“angel, ya got that baby for sure, jus’ like ya wanted, hm? ah, i can’t wait for a mini-me or a mini-ya. yer gonna be the prettiest mom, swear.”

— KUROO TETSURŌ

“fuck, babe. you’ve got no idea about what i saw today,” tetsurō huffs, warm breath fanning over your tits as they bounce, controlled by your bra.

spices clatter as tetsurō sweeps his arm across the kitchen counter behind you, clearing the space so you can lean back a little easier. his grip on your thighs doesn’t waver, nor does the ruthless tempo of his hips.

“tetsu, what’d you see?” you gasp, tears threatening to pour over your waterline.

“well, i saw this family,” he grunts, thrusting into you particularly hard now that he’s recalling the memory. “the dad had their kid on his shoulders, and the mom was pregnant. they looked so happy, and it made me think of you.”

“is that so?” you ask, spreading your legs impossibly wider as an invitation. you bite your lower lip, rolling your hips against his in an effort to get his cock deeper.

“tetsu,” he raises his eyes from the mess between your legs to your face, earnest and flushed. “kiss me, baby.”

tetsurō obliges, lets you tug him forward by the chin, mesh his lips with yours. it’s warm and sweet, the aftertaste of the dessert you’d been making as his surprise for when he’d come home. your tongue slips between plush, parted lips and moves with his gently, quite a contrast from the rough way he’s fucking you.

“ah, shit,” he moans, struggling to kiss you back when he feels your sticky walls clenching down on his too sensitive cock.

tetsurō leans forward and buries his flushed face in your shoulder, kissing the tender skin a few times before nipping it and then finally biting down into your shoulder.

he practically loses it when you wrap your legs around his back, heels digging into muscle as you push him forward. in a hushed tone and into his ear, you say sweetly, “tetsu, fuck a baby into me.”

“oh, i fucking will, princess.”

although, despite his rough words, he’s wheezing and whining every now and then into your shoulder, hoping it muffles his sounds.

your hand slides up his neck and tangles into dark tufts of hair, pulling tight as your own orgasm approaches. your pleasure mixes with his own, and just before the knot in your belly snaps, you feel a strong pulsing deep within your pussy.

he groans loudly, burying his cock deep just as it starts to gush, painting your walls white. your nails dig hard into his scalp and the sting of pain only seems to make him get a little more vocal.

tetsurō pants into your neck, trying to find his bearings now that his limbs feel like jelly.

“hold me?”

— IWAIZUMI HAJIME

“h-haji, this was a good call..”

“oh yeah?” hajime’s voice rumbles in his chest, strong and steady against your back as he keeps your legs wide open. “have we ever tried this one?”

“i don’t think so, but we definitely will in the future.”

“feels that good, princess?” hajime chuckles, eyeing your reflections in the mirror mounted across the bed. for a moment, he considers the two of you puzzle pieces — he sees that his cock fits snugly inside you, and the thought that you may be made for each other briefly crosses his mind.

“of course it does,” a sheen of sweat glimmers on your face, skin glowing beautifully in the mirror. “god, hajime, y-you’re so deep..”

he notices your eyes falling shut, head tipping back, and he raises his hand to lightly smack your cheek. “mm, princess, gotta keep watching. i want you to see yourself cum, alright?”

“fine,” you huff, feet dangling in the air and bouncing every which way as he fucks into you, heavy balls smacking your pussy with each stroke.

“what made you wanna try this?” you ask, knowing you should save the question for later, but you’re too curious not to ask. why would your husband come home someday and randomly want to try a new position you’d never heard of?

“well, you know..” in the mirror, you catch the flush on his tanned cheeks. “we’ve both caught the fever recently, and this is a solid position for makin’ babies.”

you gasp sharply when hajime turns his hips ever so slightly, and the resulting sensation causes pressure to build in your pelvis. “shit— right there, haji, just like that..”

he grunts, body stiffening as he tightly holds you in place and fucks into you like it’s the last time you’ll ever be like this together.

“wanna get you pregnant,” hajime groans, abs flexing with the effort of maintaining his merciless pace, “i wanna—shit—wanna breed you.”

“you want it that bad?” you breathe, just barely keeping your eyes open and focusing on your bouncing reflection. “fuck me full, then, haji.”

hajime doesn’t question it, thinks of you with a swollen belly and milky tits all for him to hold and take care of. you, with your glowing skin and beautiful body from all the pregnancy hormones.

the idea of it all is too much to bear, not to mention cumming deep inside your cunt, this time with the intent to breed.

he can’t even muster the words to warn you that he’s cumming as hard as he is; after a choked, tight groan, he falls silent and rocks his hips into you.

“fuck it deep, haji,” you whisper, on the edge yourself. obedient and too far gone in his fantasy, he does exactly what you ask, whining very quietly from the sensitivity.

shaking on top of him and watching the reflections in the mirror, you cum hard, dissolving into unmatched pleasure. and you’re thankful you keep your eyes open, moaning at the very sight— hajime doesn’t even pull out, he’s still pushing his cock in and out of you, but cum races from your cunt in thick white rivulets.

“i’m trying,” he huffs, sensitive when he glances up and notices how intently you’re watching the mirror. his cheeks flush lightly when you both notice that most of his cum ends up dripping down his balls and out of you.

“don’t worry, princess. i’ll cum however many times it takes, sound good?”

— SUNA RINTAROU

“you want a few brats? oh, i just felt your pussy squeeze up. ‘s what you want, huh?” rintarou bites, harshness of his thrusts drawing whimper after whimper from your kiss-swollen lips.

“i want it, rin,” you feel one of his palms smoothing over the plushness of your lower stomach, just above your pelvis. “w-what’re you doing?”

he laughs at your stutter, keeps your legs steady over his shoulders. rintarou draws his hips back, leaving just his tip inside your quivering pussy. then, he presses down on your lower stomach and slides in, adding more pressure with each inch.

“rintarou!” you wheeze, jerking your hips to the side in a pathetic attempt to run away from the overwhelming pleasure he gives you with every movement, big or small.

“nuh uh, pretty girl,” his free hand grabs ahold of you tightly, tugs you towards him and then settles to rest on your neck. rintarou’s fingers are loose on each side of your throat, hand placed there in a demonstration of control. but what’s the point of that, when he’s already made it clear by hoisting your legs over his shoulders and folding you in half?

“you’ll take it, all of it.”

“but ‘m sensitive, i’ve cum too many times,” you can’t even recall a number or remember how long he’s been fucking you like this.

you’re both sticky with sweat, your thighs stained white with dried cum from previous rounds and marked with love bites he’d given you in his excitement to get a taste of your pussy.

it’s so fucking messy because rintarou’s the one who can’t stop asking to eat you out and push the cum back inside; you always say yes, then cum until you’re dizzy and can’t see straight.

you taste yourself from earlier on the corners of his lips when he bends forward and gives you a chaste kiss. “l-last time, okay? i’ll give you your brats, pretty girl.”

the sweet pout on your lips that’s quickly replaced with something else and wail of his name that leaves you when he starts jackhammering your pussy turns him on to the max.

incoherent babbling of what he’ll give you and how good you feel blend together, and before you can fully register it, rintarou’s folding forward with a deep groan. “shit, i’m gonna cum so fucking hard, i—”

he shuts up and gives you a few more thrusts before he’s pushing deep and cumming — he’s not done when he pulls out and covers your pussy in cum.

“r-rin, keep it inside,” you whine sadly, watching as he collects it on his tip and then plunges it back inside.

“jus’ needed some extra lube,” he says coolly, but he really just wants to cum all over you. “how’s it feel inside, pretty baby?”

“like i need some more.”

rintarou laughs at the way you turn away, cheeks hot in embarrassment because you were the one who wanted a break. “we are going out later, hm?”

your nod makes him smile, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “how about i cum in your panties and you walk around with ‘em?”

[emmyrosee]

[12:23 am]

Osamu swears he’s going to hire someone for the graveyard shift.

He can’t keep doing these obscene night cleaning-shifts alone, they run him exhausted and keep him from coming home to you for a vast majority of the night, keeping you both from each other.

You leave before he wakes up. He’s back after you’ve gone to bed.

He’d assured you that, tonight however, he was going to be home at 9, come hell or high water, to spend a night with you like you deserve, because if anyone deserves his attention for being a good sport, so patient and loving and kind to him, it’s you.

But he’s not perfect, despite what he’d love to believe.

Because counting the registers turned into resweeping the floors. Then, when he realized it was still before 9, he started to wipe the counters. By the time that was done, he’d noticed the sacks of rice that needed to be moved to the kitchen from the pantry in preparation for tomorrow’s rush. He needed to scan them in for inventory, then he needed to pencil them in to make another note of how much he needs to order from Kita-San.

All this… until his watch cruelly reminded him of the time.

Past midnight.

Now osamu drives home in silence, a massive hand scrubbing down his face while the other weakly holds the steering wheel.

It's a miracle he's alive to tell the tale.

His eyes are heavy as he pulls into your driveway, home silhouetted in the moonlight like a beacon of hope. He shambles into his home, carefully maneuvering around his dark home as to not wake you. He knows you're asleep in bed, curled on your side with your head on his pillow bc it smells like him, and he'll have to move you so gently and try not to melt at the sleepy smile you give him.

Tonight, however, you surprise him.

The room is lit with candles that are placed on top of books that lead like a trail to the bed, the lamp covered with a thin, red cloth that adorns the room in a pink hue. Melted chocolate strawberries are plopped on his nightstand. He smiles at the sight of you, his onigiri shirt which pools around your body and a pair of underwear, curled up on the bed and sleeping soundly, using your pillows as a blanket.

He sighs as his heart aches from all the clear effort you put into the decor, bowing slightly to blow out the candles- he’s honestly amazed the house hasn’t burned down- all before making his way to the bed and slowly sitting down. He smiles fondly as your brows furrow at the dipping of the bed, and he rests a loving hand on your back, thumb running back and forth soothingly.

“All this work and I couldn’t be quicker, huh?” He mumbles to you, knowing you can’t hear him, but he chuckles as you shuffle to be closer to the new warmth. Finally, your eyes twitch to slowly open, and you yawn as you slowly blink awake, sleepy gaze drawing up to Osamu. You smile and try to curl closer to him, “hi, baby,” you mumble sleepily.

He clicks his tongue fondly and moves his hand to cup your cheek, stroking his thumb over the creases from your smile, “hey sweetheart… what’s all this, hm?” He asks, smiling happily when you chuckle and close your eyes again.

“Wanted us to have a romantic evening,” you explain, and osamu wants to kill everyone who kept him from you tonight. “I miss our time together, but we’ve been so busy and…” In your sleepy haze, you must realize what you’re saying because your eyes fly open and you stop yourself from finishing your thought, but Osamu already knows what you’re thinking before you can even tell him otherwise.

“And I was supposed to be here,” he sighs. When you say nothing and your eyes do your best to avoid his, he scratches the tiny hairs at the nape of your neck, “I’m sorry, baby, I should’ve been here.”

“You were working,” you hum, head nuzzling against your own arm more. “I get it.”

“I just don’t have the time anymore for stuff like this-“

His words trail off before they can dive from his tongue, but he wonders if it was worth it, because the silence is suffocating, and he can already tell by the way your brows furrow in pain that even you’re surprised with his words.

“Have the time…” you begin, slowly sitting up. “For… what?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he corrects, but at this point, he’s watching your face contort from shock to just… sadness. He feels his heart break, he knows he needs to fix this. “I just meant I didn’t have anymore free time.”

This time, you slowly sit up, still facing away from him, and he hates the feeling of you being so appalled by his audacity when he’s trying so hard to fix it- even if there’s nothing to fix.

There’s nothing he can say, not much else he can do, he’s done his damage, and now his price is to watch your glimmering eyes blink a line of tears that quickly get wiped away with the back of your hand.

“I didn’t realize I was free time,” you choke, and he moves his lips to try and form words, but not a single one comes out to try and fix the situation.

You’re not, he wants to say. That you take all his time, you’ve earned all this time, all he wants is you, all the time, and he’s been shitty and he’s amazed you haven’t upped and left him for all he is when it’s all he deserves.

Why the hell can’t he just say it?

“I’m… I’m gonna go out to the couch,” you say, finally looking up at him and sealing the final nail in his coffin. Your sclera’s are red with tears, and your voice croaks from the lump of embarrassment that settles against the chords.

“No, no, no baby, c’mon,” he pleads, reaching out to grab your wrist. “We can still have a good night, yeah?” He brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles, “have some strawberries, drink some champagne, right?”

You offer him a small, fake smile, but your eyes glimmer in betrayal, “it’s okay. It’s late. You’ve got to be up tomorrow morning.”

“But-“ he squeezes your wrist tighter. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” he whimpers. “We can still cuddle, I always have time to cuddle with ya.”

“Do we have to pencil that in as free time too?” You scoff. He deserves it, he know he does, but he reels his hand back like he’s been burned, heartbreak squeezing his chest.

“Baby, no… god, no, I’m sorry-“

“I know you just tripped up your words, Osamu,” you confess, wrapping your arms around yourself as an attempt to comfort. “But you clearly were feeling that way, that’s why the thought was there. You meant what you said, even if it wasn’t how you wanted to say it.”

"But-"

"We can finish this tomorrow," you whisper, and he hears it in your throat that you're fighting back tears. "I'm tired."

"Yeah... okay..."

But you don't go to sleep.

Osamu knows this.

Because he never went to sleep either, staring at the ceiling while he listened to you wail on the phone with your best friend, his own tears biting his eyes, hot like fire as they roll down his face.

[kairiscorner]

NO BC THIS IS READER WITH OSAMU

i'm not cute. – osamu miya x reader

"babe, what're doin'?" he asked you with a slightly muffled voice as you played with his chubby cheeks. he furrowed his eyebrows as you kept playing with his cheeks, as if he were putty in your hands and he kind of is when you touch him all lovingly and sweetly. "just admiring you, 'samu. you're so... fluffy." you gushed, squeezing his cheeks, making him go red and warm at your words and constant touching.

"like... a cat?" he asked you in confusion, sneaking glances at you. "hmm, more like a fox." "oh, haha, very funny, is it because of our team name?" "no, i'm serious!" you exclaim, grinning.

"you're like a sweet, tired little fox that just wants to hibernate all day... y'know, foxes are actually my favorite animal." you rambled with a smile, making osamu blush harder and his eyes widen at your gushing.

"...i don't mind that, i guess." he mumbled out, wrapping his muscular arm around your waist and gently pulled you closer to him, letting you pinch at his cheeks and play with them, no matter how red he'd look afterwards–because he absolutely melts at your touch, he can never stay put or calm when your soft hands are all over him; and he never wants you to stop, really, he loves your touch too much to let you go.

[forusomimiya]

LISTEN UP, this guy is Osamu fucking Miya when he's not attending the shop.

I swear, if I run into him like that in the gym, people can start getting out of there ‘cause my p*ssy's gonna start creaming on him soon🥵