#osamu miya imagines

[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.

[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]

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]

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."

[kkaewrites]

ok, then kiss me — osamu miya x reader !

warnings. ooc atsumu, description heavy.

tropes. damsel in distress, meet-cute.

you have never thought of yourself as perfect. which makes sense as to why you’d also never see anyone as flawless. for how can there be one, when all human beings are distinctly designed to be flawed? so, for years, this is what you believed in: everyone have their own defects. no one is god. no one is superior. no one can possibly make you feel otherwise.

until you came across him.

morning jogs were nothing out of the ordinary for you. there’s simply something in the cool air that you enjoy every sunrise, along with the pinkish hued skies. for no other reason would you have thought that today would be a different experience.

you’ve passed the usual tree a few blocks from your place. you’ve gone by the park, where the swing seats lie unaccompanied. the households you’ve memorized elapsed in nothing but colorful blurs, and the streets were emptied, save for the stray animals and a few old women. it was too early for anyone to be out. except maybe you.

except maybe the guy towering over you.

he was not on your routine. no, he’s not supposed to be on your routine. but somehow, as he faces you with a plastic bag full of what you could only guess were onigiris, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything negative.

you’ve heard of him. of his honeyed brown eyes and faux blond hair, yes, but more specifically, what he is. he’s a 6 feet tall, volleyball player that every woman is hyped about in school. nevermind the fact that he seems to have an attitude, because he’s damn good at what he does. even you, a not-so-sports-fan, acknowledges his hardwork. you’ve always thought everyone was exaggerating about him, but my god, they were definitely right.

his looks could rival a greek god. and that’s even without proper lighting. what a man he is, miya atsumu.

before you could fall (both literally and figuratively), you sent him a little nod and returned to your jog. you had no idea if he greeted you back, but you didn’t want to stay long enough to find out. there was absolutely no way you’d remain in a danger zone. so, a little shaken and dazed, you continued your morning routine like nothing happened.

although the fact that nothing did happen remains, you certainly think otherwise. for the first time, you thought that maybe there were perfect beings after all.

months pass. just when you thought that miya atsumu was something sort of a hiccup that day, it seems that he definitely didn’t think so. because every morning, as you jog using your favorite route, you’d come across him with a bag of onigiris. unlike the first day you met him, he’s covered in sweat. it didn’t take a genius to figure that he’s jogging. in the same time and same route as you.

talk about coincidence.

but again, like perfections, you’re no fan of fate. it doesn’t matter whether you’d see him every morning, especially since conversations were absent between the two of you. he had never tried talking to you, and you just find it awkward to have eye contacts with him, much more say anythting else. on rare moments that you do meet his brown eyes, though, you’d look away and run faster to avoid him.

you had no idea why you’re so flabbergasted every time you two run across each other, especially since it has happened for too many times already. and you’d like to think that you’re more of an extrovert than an introvert, so why can’t you speak in the presence of this man?

“excuse me.” shit.

he’s definitely pertaining to you. there’s no one in the street but you, and the only thing you could think of at that moment is ’i wish there had been more people‘ because the least you wanted to do then is to talk. especially to him.

nevertheless, you halted. panting and exhausted from your cardio, but heart beating erratically because of him. you were nervous and excited at the same time, so much so that you felt like you’re ready to burst at any given moment.

you turn to face him once you’ve caught your breath and composed yourself. “yes?”

“are you y/n?”

“yes, is something the matter?”

he holds a familiar towel, one that has your name stitched in the far corner, and steps evenly as he walks towards you. “ya dropped this, ‘s all.”

you accepted it quietly. not because you wanted to be rude, but because you had no idea what to even say to him. thanking him would be the normal response, but this was the only interaction you’ve shared with him in the span of months. were you really going to let it all go to waste?

he nods one last time and turns to leave, so in a panic, you blurted out the first thing you could think of.

“atsumu-san,” he stops. that was a stupid move. how could you call him by his first name just like that? one, he never formally introduced himself. two, he never gave you permission to. you internally cursed at yourself for just casually calling out to him like that, what then if he comes to the conclusion that you’re a stalker?

he raises his brow as he waits for you to finish. from the looks of it, he’s not upset. but you’re not entirely sure, maybe that’s his way of looking upset. either way, you get it over with. you didn’t want to prolong things further.

“thanks a lot.”

he nods, probably as his sign to leave. “see ya around, then.”

once he disappears from the corner you originally came from, you were able to let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. talk about intimidating. how could someone play against him and not melt into a puddle? you simply stood there and talked to him, yet your knees were wobbling.

is that what it feels like to be in the presence of a “perfect” person?

everyday, like clockwork, you’d run into miya atsumu while jogging. unlike the first few months of shrugging each other off, the both of you were finally able to at least greet one another. sometimes, it’s a simple nod or grin, and on other days, it’s a “good morning”.

you have grown accustomed to the greetings that your knees were no longer wobbly in his presence, but your image of him never faltered. if possible, it intensified. this went on for so long that there could only be one conclusion about your feelings.

you have a crush. on miya atsumu, of all people.

you huffed out a breath as you continued to jog. this was getting tiresome. you’re simply a different person when you’re face to face with the blond. it has got to stop. you don’t want to wait until it worsens and affects everything else around you. what if, with your dumb luck, you cross paths with him at school? will it also render you speechless?

could that happen?

this caused you to stop in your tracks, eyes glued on the very street you’d both cross paths. for some reason, you decided to switch up your route a bit. instead of the familiar turns you’ve been taking for the past months, you opted to take a left this time, which leads to your subdivision’s park.

you weren’t in the mood to see atsumu today. in fact, you’re not in the mood to affiliate yourself with him anymore. what you feel towards him is getting ridiculous. how could one have this much adoration for someone else? it’s suffocating and heavy in the chest.

impulsively kicking a nearby pebble, you stride towards one of the park benches. you’ve got no answer to your question, not even as you sit down to catch your breath. not even as light stretches in the sky. certainly not even as you realize that you’ve lost all chances of bumping into atsumu today.

you glumly waited for the sun to completely rise. this wasn’t the way to go. simply avoiding him won’t do anything because if this is what it feels like on the first day, what of the others to come?

had you foreseen that you’d get attached to someone like him, you would have ignored his existence completely. you would have taken a different route. damn it.

you’re bound to do something about this tomorrow.

the winds were out of control. it was unlike the calm mornings you’re used to greeting, but it was nothing an oversized hoodie could handle. this wasn’t enough to perturb you in any way, especially since the weather reports earlier claimed that it wouldn’t rain. and even if you were unnerved, you were sure that it had nothing to do with today’s gloomy mood.

yesterday’s events served as nothing but a reminder that miya atsumu has a strict influence in your behavior. you’re lucky enough that his classroom is a whole building away from yours, and your extracurriculars hinder you from bumping into him, so you’re fine when you’re at school.

but on early mornings? you can’t function. you see him everyday; on weekdays, as early as 5 in the morning, and on weekends, it’s 6. you have no way out. you tried changing your route to avoid him, but it was no use. there’s always an intersecting point between his house and yours.

so, if you want your old life back (which in this case, you terrible do) this whole crushing on him thing had to be settled. you’ve got to talk to him.

that was the goal imprinted in your head as you locked your front door and embraced the cold, misty morning.

the streets were as quiet as ever. only the sound of the wind against trees accompanied your lone jog because of the absence of everyone else, and the outer soles of your shoes pounding against the asphalt was enough to be heard from two blocks away. you guessed that it might be because of the lower temperature. people must have slept in.

you would have done the same if not for your main objective for today, but as the clock hits 30 past the hour of 5, you realize that maybe it was all for nothing. there’s no sign of miya atsumu. not even a strand of his hair or shadow could be seen.

and just as you thought that things wouldn’t get any worse, tiny droplets of rain fell from the sky. it slowly came as a gentle shower, so you weren’t bothered at all. however, when it started to get heavier and stronger, you quickened your pace and tugged your hood on. there’s no place you could take shelter from, seeing that the subdivision was full of suburban houses.

your house was 7 blocks away. you opted to run home and just take a quick shower after, but before you could even make such a decision, the rain poured. it was relentless and heavy, especially when it’s paired with the strong whirling winds. you’re not sure if you misheard the morning report— but this was not how you expected your day to occur.

so, you ran. not to your house, no. that was too far. you ran to the onigiri place that atsumu seemed to get his usual bag from. it was two blocks away.

the moment you finally found the perfect place to shield yourself from the rain, your hoodie was already wet. even your bra was wet. on top of that, it was freezing cold. just your luck, the onigiri shop was closed, but the store’s canopy roof served its purpose. you were going to stay here until the rain stops, considering that you don’t have any choices at all.

there’s no one outside but you. it’s a little overwhelming, more so because of the sudden rain downfall. there’s no one to talk to or at least acknowledge. the house adjacent to where you were standing had its bedroom lights on, but god forbid you bothering anyone who’s comfortable in their own homes. to think of it, this was mostly your fault.

you can’t believe that amidst all this trouble, miya atsumu never came.

a sigh withdraws from your system. the only source of heat you have was mostly gone. your clammy hands were pale and wrinkled, so it’s either the rain dies down or you. it was only a matter of time until you find out.

“ghost...?” you hear someone’s voice.

when you turn to look at them, you’re shocked to see who it was. it seems like your prayers have been answered, because who stands before you is none other than miya atsumu. he’s wearing a gray jacket and a black cap, while holding an umbrella. his other hand was tucked inside his jogging pants.

you’re not sure if he notices, but your face lights up at the sight of him. when he realizes that you’re not a ghost (as he speculated earlier), his attention turns towards the closed shop. he must’ve came just to buy his favorite food. or at least you think it’s his favorite.

“maybe they’ll open up later.“ you pipe up.

“will they?”

you shrug. he stands there in the middle of the rain, contemplating what he should do. you expected him to turn his back and walk away, but he does the opposite. he steps under the canopy and stands next to you.

it was cold. freezing. your clothes were wet and your hands were shivering. atsumu seems like he didn’t notice just how cold you are earlier, but the moment he does, he took off his jacket without a word. you don’t even try to stop him, not when the warmth that enveloped you was heavenly.

that left him in his purple shirt. he was wordless the whole time, and the only interaction between the two of you was when you talked about the shop and when he gave you his jacket. aside from that, silence ensued for about 30 more minutes.

him opening his umbrella disrupted your train of thoughts. he steps back into the street and turns to face you, “i don’t think they’ll open today.”

you nod, but he only stared at you blankly. realizing that he’s about to leave, you quickly took off his jacket but he stops you.

“what are you doing?”

“giving back your jacket.”

“let’s go, i’ll walk you.” he nudges to the street. the rain did not show any signs of stopping soon. “you don’t have an umbrella, right?”

and so, true to his words, he walks you home. the umbrella was too small for the both of you, especially with his huge build, but his warmth was nice. at least you weren’t freezing to death.

“this is me.” you tell him once you’ve reached your front gate. “thank you. for everything.” was your breathless addition.

he only nods as his response, then turned to walk away. not until you stop him.

“uh, atsumu-san!” you called, a little louder than how you imagined to say it but you didn’t want the rain to drown out your voice. he whirls to face you, a confused look plastered on his face as if asking me?

who else would it be? there’s no other atsumu around. you could have remarked sarcastically, but your body didn’t allow you to.

still, as he faces you, it was now or never. there was no use in doubletaking your thoughts because you’ve got nothing to lose. the best case scenario is to have him reject you so that you can peacefully move forward, and if that’s the ideal plan, what could go wrong?

“i like you.“ you whisper.

“louder, please.”

when your doubts were left unanswered, you finally let your impulsiveness string you along.

“i like you.” you didn’t yell because you thought it was embarrasing, but your words certainly didn’t fall upon deaf ears. in fact, it seemed as if the rain went quiet just so atsumu could hear what you had to say.

there was no change in his expression, and even if there was, it’s not as if you can decipher them easily.

“okay.” he nods. what does he mean by that?

before you could ask, a miniscule smirk appears on his lips. “then kiss me.”

“what?”

“did i hear you wrong? you said you like me.”

a frown etched itself onto your features. was he kidding? did he think you were kidding?

you have never kissed anyone, and you certainly did not think that you’d ever be placed in a situation like this. that you’d be kissing atsumu miya — that he would nonchalantly demand you to kiss him. he’s definitely out of his mind.

“you’re joking, right?” you question, watching him slowly walk back to you you.

“sorry, ’m not.”

his dark eyes stared into your vibrant e/c eyes, and you could swear there’s something different in it. he tucks a stray hair of yours behind your ear and leans in. was he going to...?

“w-what—”

but he doesn’t. instead, he leans in to whisper: “you confessed to the wrong twin, miss.”

notes. so sorry for the inactivity 😿 this was written last year & i just thought i’d post it today! this might have a part 2 but i’m not exactly sure how that would go so let me know ur thoughts! <3 for #bllk i’m working on 2 nagi fics (1 enemies to lovers, 1 flower shop au kinda), 1 itoshi sae (enemies to lovers AGAIN) & the part 2 for chigiri’s fic! 🫶🏻 thanks for all the patience & support!

ִ ࣪𖤐 masterlist ! • ִ ࣪𖤐 next !

[aeonmnei]

— “‘samu, stop,” you whisper, as he finds you at the opposite corner of the bed yet again. “it’s so hot.” the fan drones on, making little creaks as it oscillates. it does nothing to quell the heat. if anything, it just cycles the hot air around you, making the bedroom akin to a rotary oven.

what also doesn’t help is the six-foot human space heater in your bed.

osamu groans, his arm coming around your waist to pull you against his bare chest. “stop kickin’ me,” he mumbles. “i wanna hold ya.” he nuzzles his face in your neck, kissing it.

it would be sweet, if his body heat wasn’t the same as an elephant’s. he’s sweltering, and your shoulder sticks to his chest as you try to move away. osamu practically whines as you do. “stop leavin’ meeeee.”

a blast of heat envelopes you as he tries to pull you close again, and you let out a huff. “m’not leaving you, ‘samu, i told you, it’s boiling in here,” you tell him, hitching a leg over his hip to get some air. “s’not my fault,” he mutters petulantly, his big, hot hand reaching over to rest on your leg.

this boy…!

you give another huff. not even thirty seconds later, there’s a low snore that rumbles behind you. “how are you even asleep?” you whisper incredulously, turning to see his peaceful expression. “m’holdin’ ya,” he mumbles sleepily in reply. he inhales deeply, breathing you in. “i love ya.”

guess you can’t be mad about that.

[makkir0ll]

private chef! osamu x ceo!reader.

you hired him because you had little to no time to make healthy meals, living off of microwave ramen most of the time. incredibly unhealthy so you hired a private chef. you didn't see him often, only in the morning for a couple of minutes as you ate your breakfast and occasionally he would stand across the counter preparing your lunch.

you can't deny that he's cute, brown hair and big biceps that are constricted from his black compression shirt, the way his muscles are flexed every time he moves. his cooking skills are an added plus. you thank whatever angel is watching over you to give you such a hot man who can cook your meals. but obviously, you had to keep it professional but that doesn't stop you from ogling at him and he doesn't notice either so there’s no harm. (he has noticed.)

and he's not one to complain either. he particularly likes it when you come home late. hair in a messy bun, the first couple of buttons from your work shirt unbuttoned a little bit and at certain angles he can get a peek of the lacy black bra you decided to wear that day.

but his top favorite is when you come out of the shower on those late nights, dressed in your victoria secret silk pajama set, hair wet, and cheeks red from the heat of the shower. you smile softly at him as you take a bit of the dinner he cooked that night and he always falls to his knees weak at the sight of your smile rather than the usual scowl on your face due to the annoying people you have to deal with at work.

and when you fall asleep on the couch as he cleans up the dishes he freezes, he's never seen you so peaceful. would it be breaking boundaries to carry you to your bed? no he thinks, i mean you back would hurt if you slept here all night he justifies as he slowly picks you up and places you softly on your bed.

one day he will get to do that and sleep with you in his arms. but right now he had to plan out your breakfast for tommorow.

@cottonlemonade bc it’s infesting my brain

[lale-txt]

❥ 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 ↳ 𝐰/ 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮, 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮, 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐨, 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐦𝐚, 𝐎𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚, 𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢 & 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚

a/n: reader is gn! i started drafting those during one of the first sticky hot summer nights of the year, then forgot about it until this came over me once again like a fever, and now here we are. i love writing drabbles because they force you to really think about the chars, how you perceive them and how to nail their unique personalities in 200 words or less. anyway, this is my first time writing for HQ after the brainworms got me down bad and i had lots of fun! hope you'll enjoy them too ♡

word count: 1.3k

𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔 whines when you have the audacity to kick him back towards his end of the couch, catching your ankle and pulling you towards him in return, stubbornly ignoring your protests. Too hot to cuddle, my ass, he pouts, genuinely offended that you’d even consider that; when the only time Atsumu ever feels a sense of calm is when part of you touches him. Your hand playing with the shaved hair in the back of his neck, your leg hooked over his hipbone as you sprawl out in bed together, hell, even your icy cold feet shoved underneath his butt during winter. Something was missing when he couldn’t have your proximity. Yer so needy, Tsumu. So what if he was? He pulls you into his lap, face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, hands tightening around your waist. His breath fanning over your skin, hot and cool against it. Atsumu takes, he demands, but with you he is pleading, silent for once. Just a little longer–dreaming, breathing you in, kissing till he feels you smiling against his lips.

𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 wears his hair shorter now, back at its natural dark color, too. You helped him buzz it off during one of those sticky summer nights. Both of you in nothing but your underwear, Osamu sitting on the edge of the bathtub in your cramped bathroom. One hand of yours holding a razor and the other clamped over your mouth because you horribly messed up a setting and now he had a funny little edge in his hair, throwing you both in a laughing fit. It was your first summer together and Osamu couldn’t help but hope that there would be many more like this to come, with your bodies orbiting each other, unable to keep your hands off despite the heat and the sweat, the air heavy and electric and yet so light whenever he hears you laugh. Nothing beats the feeling of lifting you up on the kitchen counter and your eyes lingering on his hands, shaping a midnight snack for the both of you, getting drunk on stolen glances and kisses. There’s many metaphors for food and love and right now, Osamu can taste them all on the tip of your tongue.

𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 hasn’t even kicked his shoes off at the entrance yet and is already loosening his tie, before slender fingers work down button for button on his shirt. He hears you laugh about his demeanor from the other end of the hallway. How lucky, he thinks to himself. To have someone waiting for him at home, making even long work days during the most miserable summer heat bearable. His shirt has barely hit the floor and he’s already on you, caging you in with his arms and covering every inch of your skin he can reach in kisses, despite your giggling and feigned huffing over how sticky he is, sending him to shower first (as if you wouldn’t come right after him). Kuroo purrs when your hands tangle in his hair. In the end you always pull him back towards your lips again, swallowing every little quip and taunt like candy, sweet and syrupy in your mouth. It reminds him how he fell in love with you many summers ago, his heart ablaze ever since.

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 is glued to the fan at this point. He even switched gaming from his desktop set-up to a handheld console, reluctantly admitting that his old house would heat up even more with his computer running at full blast. His expression really says it all when you approach him, silently pleading for cuddles. Kenma just can’t understand how anyone would seek someone else’s body heat when the sun outside was already doing a pretty good job in trying to end him. Still, he isn’t immune to your charms, never was (one time he mumbled something about your stats being way too high and how everything changed once he received a love buff of yours). When you hold out a popsicle as a means of bribery and blink at him with those damn soft eyes of yours, Kenma pauses his game and holds out his arms. He hums into the kiss you give him before sitting down in his lap, your lips tasting like ice cream and summer love. He rests his chin on your shoulder, face nuzzled against your neck, before he continues his game, letting you feed him the sweet cold treat. Summer might have become a little more bearable with you in his life–though he was already looking forward to many winters under the kotatsu with you. 

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 is squishing your cheeks together, his thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth. Collecting evidence, but also wanting to feel your tongue poke out slightly against it, cheeky as ever. Just how could you eat the last ice cream in the freezer without him? He lets out an exaggerated huff, feigned indignation, both of you knowing he can never keep this up for too long–not when it comes to you. Oikawa leans down to kiss you, your face still in a tight grip, tasting the remains of the ice cream on your lips, as if you weren’t sweet enough already. Maybe he can be bribed for another kiss when you offer a midnight walk to the 7/11 down the street, promising to pay for a cool sweet treat to make it up to him. He had already forgotten what he was mad about the moment you leaned into the kiss, but he’ll never say no to a chance to hold your hand, even if it’s sticky with leftover ice cream and the summer heat. To Oikawa, love is stored in the mundane things, even if his love for you is anything but that.

𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 is standing in the kitchen past midnight, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers while he roams the freezer for anything to help him cool down; even a pack of frozen peas would do. He feels a pang of guilt for having peeled away from you, your form pressed so tightly against him in his sleep, it almost gave him a heat stroke–for more reason than one. Everything is sticky and airless and Iwaizumi is sure that if he would have glanced at you even a minute longer, his heart might have just given out on him. All this love he holds for you, burning him up from the inside, like a fever. He lets out a long exhale when he presses an ice bag against the back of his neck, but it’s not that what causes a shiver down his spine; it’s two arms sneaking around his waist from behind, your sleepy voice mumbling out his name, your body melting into his again. The first kiss pressed on the side of your neck is an apology, the second one a promise. The third–to devour you.

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 grumbles something about you being too sticky and sweaty, making a weak attempt to shove you back to your side of the bed, only to pull you back by your hips when you actually do leave some room between you. He can’t help it, you fit so perfectly in the curve of his body, your back pressed against his chest, one of his knees nudged between your legs, all tangled up. It’s the perfect position to plant kisses on the back of your neck, too. Kiyoomi loathes those hot summer nights in the concrete city. He’d rather be somewhere else with you, somewhere to breathe more easily through this heat. Maybe you should move to the countryside, yes. A small house with lots of green surrounding it. Less people and noise, just you and him. Yeah, he would like that. He kisses the back of your neck once more and takes a slow, deep inhale of your sweet scent, before sleep finally crawls upon him again. For now he’ll endure this heat, anything, as long as he can hold you in his arms like this–and have a cold shower with you in the morning, maybe.

[way-too-addicted-to-anime]

That's adorable 🥰🥰🥰

PLEASE DO!!! I LOVE DAD OSAMU !!!

(in reference to this post). ive been feeling better so here's the miya twins playing hot potato with osamu's baby girls (also some stupid dialogue about osamu's arms lmao) :))

~~~

"who's that, sweetpeas?"

osamu's twin baby girls were in his arms, staring at the person in front of them who looked very much like their dad. their round, innocent eyes take in atsumu's features. normally it would be easy to spot the difference between the older miya twins because of atsumu's dyed blond hair, but the onigiri miya cap he was wearing hides that. the girls blink, lifting their heads to look at their father before staring back at atsumu. they couldn't really understand it, given that they were just babies, but what they did know is that they wanted their dad (even though they were in their dad's arms).

and so, the girls make grabby motions at atsumu. smiling, atsumu doesn't hesitate to take his nieces into his arms, bouncing them a little. the girls giggle in response, patting at his chest.

'who's that, angels?' atsumu asks, nodding his head towards osamu.

they turn to look at osamu, confusion filling their eyes. tilting their heads, the twins switch between the two adults. atsumu begins to laugh.

'look at 'em, they're adorable!' the athlete coos.

osamu rolls his eyes. ' 'course they are, have ya seen ma wife?'

said wife (you) was sitting on the couch and recording the whole thing, trying to suppress your laughter. your little girls couldn't wrap their heads around the fact that their father and uncle were identical twins.

the girls reach towards osamu, grasping onto his black shirt. they're back in his arms, osamu gazing down at them with a soft look.

'think that's yer pa, angels?' atsumu questions.

babbling among themselves, the girls turn their heads to look at their uncle. osamu passes them off to his twin brother, watching as a large grin spreads across his face.

'so 'm yer pa?'

the girls look back at osamu and have their arms out. atsumu passes them back to osamu. they pass the girls back and forth a while and you couldn't suppress the chuckles and giggles as you watch them.

'y'know, this is a workout,' huffing, atsumu receiving the girls. 'aren't they tired?'

'don't tell me ma girls are tiring ya out,' osamu teases, the girls back in his arms.

scoffing, atsumu puffs out his chest. 'no way, 'm jus' fine!'

'you sure, 'tsumu?' you giggle, rising from the couch. 'are your arms getting tired? i know 'samu's aren't.'

'oh yeah? what makes ya say that? 'm the athlete here!'

you simply shrug, walking over to lean against your husband's side. 'osamu's arms are beefier.'

atsumu sputters at your comment, trying to collect his words. meanwhile, osamu gives you an amused look. 'beefier? is that how ya see ma arms, darlin'?'

'i tell it like it is,' you hum, nuzzling your nose against his before giving him a kiss. just to be cheeky, you give his bicep a squeeze.

'gross,' atsumu makes an offhanded comment, his face scrunched up.

the girls begin to squeal, wriggling in osamu's arms and their arms reaching for you. cradling your daughters against your chest you kiss their foreheads. 'you always know your mama.'

[emmyrosee]

“Do I have a cute butt?”

“Excuse me?” Osamu asks at your question, popping an eye open as he chuckles. You giggle at your matched silliness, gently patting his chest.

“You know.... like, is my butt cute?” You ask again, traveling your eyes to look. Your leg is hooked over his waist, his large hand running along your thigh sweetly.

Osamu sighs sleepily, “is this one of those scenarios where if I answer, you’ll hit me?”

You giggle at him, “depends on your answer.”

“Then I think you have, single handedly, the cutest butt in the world, sweet love.” His large hand travels down and gives your ass a gentle pat, almost like you were a baby.

Well, you are his baby, as he always assures.

Your heart flutters wildly at his words, they always have an effect on you, and you can’t help but nuzzle into his chest further to hide your face.

“Awww,” he teases. “Did I make my angel girl all shy?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, shoving him lightly. He chuckles lowly before shoving his hand under your hip and pushing you up, guiding you to straddle his waist. He gently caresses your sides and thighs, dopey, loving smile on his pink lips.

“I think every part of you is the cutest, my love,” Osamu whispers, making you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah?” You challenge. “Like what?” He raises his own brows, “everything.” He gently takes your hand in his, “I love these small, sexy hands of yours.” He plants a kiss to each of your fingers before closing them, placing a final kiss to your knuckles. You bite your lip, brushing the fallen locks of hair out of his eyes.

“They’re not small,” you protest. “Yours are just massive.”

“Either way,” he continues. “I love these hips, and these legs that everyone stares at when you wear shorts,” he gently digs his fingers in your thighs slightly, leaving lightened prints before transforming back to your original skin tone.

You avert his gaze, “they stare because my hips come up to your thighs. Tall freak.”

“They stare because you’re hot,” he says, putting extra emphasis on the ‘T’ and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “They stare because somehow, your stunning ass got stuck with me."

“I love being stuck with you!"

“I love it too,” he assures, smiling as you laugh. “That’s another thing,” he says. “That sweet laugh of yours.”

“Oh, you mean the dolphin mating call?” You scoff, crossing your arms.

Osamu shakes his head, “no, you brat. I’m talking about your laugh. Your sweet giggles. Your scoffs. The way it goes silent when you laugh really hard. It the fucking best.”

“No it’s not,” you groan. “You’re the only person on planet earth who could find a walrus being assaulted with a crowbar cute.”

“There’s nothing wrong with finding your little giggles endearing.”

“Yeah, right.”

“But you know what I love most about you?” He asks, cupping your ass and hips in his massive hands.

You quirk your brow, “what’s that, oh Prince Charming of mine.”

“My absolute biggest weakness about you, dollface, is...” he squeezed harder. “Messing with you.”

You can barely process what he said before he bucks his hips up against you, bouncing you up and down. You scream out in laughter, planting your hands to his chest. His own laughter mixes with yours, his thighs continuing to bounce you like you’re a rider on a horse.

“Okay, okay!” You manage between giggles. “I get it!”

“Don’t,” bounce “think,” bounce “you,” bounce “do.” He grins as he stops bouncing, sitting up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you flush to his chest as you both flop back down.

“You’re so bad,” you giggle, running your hands over his chest. Osamu chuckles, planting a kiss to your head.

“What can I say,” he sighs dreamily. “I'm a man of poetic genius.”

"If that's what you want to call it."

Immediately, hands dart under your arms to tickle you viciously, smirking as you shriek and clamp your hands to your sides and laughter pours out of your lips.

It truly was his favorite sound.

[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?”

[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]

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🥵

[revasserium]

CONGRATS RAIN!!!!!!!!!

also heavy breathing bc before i even opened the "keep reading" i was like. i hope pride and prejudice is on the list T______T and there she is ..... #1

i will kindly ask for osamu x pride and prejudice pls & thank u 🤲

pride and prejudice

osamu miya; 2,952 words; fluff, childhood friends to lovers, volleyball player!reader, fem!reader, general cuteness

summary: osamu has known you for longer than he can remember.

a/n: @starrysamu remmyyy thank u!!! and thank u for sending this prompt omfg i actually loved writing it so much u__u i hope u enjoy and yES ofc i couldn't leave miss p&p off this list!!! though the fic has nothing to do with the actual book LOL i hope you like it regardless <3

one.

you have known each other for longer than he can remember.

longer (osamu is convinced) than the summer days. longer (he is still convinced) than the winter nights. longer than the length of a volleyball court, than the glistening white lines that separate the game from everything else beyond it.

you’ve always been small, but you’d never let that stop you. and perhaps it’s this more than anything that grates at osamu’s consciousness — the sheer stubbornness of you. and he knows a thing or two about being stubborn — have you met his twin brother?

but no — you’d insisted, at the tiny, peculiar age of four, that you’d found volleyball first. as if it were something to discovered, like electricity or the new world. even though osamu knows better, knows that volleyball has always been there, just like he knows that atsumu will always try to steal the last popsicle in the freezer and that the sky will always turn blue again after even an entire week’s worth of rain.

“shorty’s can’t play volleyball, y’know,” he drawls, watching you with his head cocked, casually kicking his feet as they dangle from the edge of a low-rise bridge, the summer having reduced the usually hearty waterway to a trickling stream. you stand on the banks, panting, bruises like badges of honor blooming across your knees as you bounce a large ball along your forearms, over and over and over again.

osamu follows the trajectory with half-lidded eyes, his heartbeat ticking inside him like a time-bomb.

“says who?!” you demand, squeaking as the ball bonks off your head, making your eyes water.

osamu hums, caught between morbid amusement and a true, burgeoning curiosity as you dash off after the worn old volleyball.

“says… everyone, duh. tall people play volleyball… shortys…” he trails off, casting his eyes up at the first flickering stars as they wink into existence along the far horizon, “i dunno… shorty’s probably make ramen or riceballs or something like that.”

“samuuuu! it’s dinner time!” the clank of their old bike alerts osamu to his twin’s appearance, even as atsumu screeches to a halt the foot of the bridge, looking between osamu and you, now cradling the ball in your arms, your eyes bright and sharp as — yes, osamu thinks, bright as the evening stars.

“c’mon,” osamu says, hoisting himself up and jerking his head towards his brother.

“don’t wanna,” you say, stomping a foot as you turn resolutely away from him even as he rolls his tiny, four-year old eyes.

“don’t be stupid. kaa-chan made taimeshi —”

“oh! my favorite!”

osamu smirks as you bound up to meet them, his previous slights apparently long forgotten as you race off down the road, shouting over your shoulder that the last person there has to do the dishes. atsumu shrieks and nearly topples the bike chasing after you, leaving osamu to sigh and jog slowly after the two of you.

he wonders how long it’ll take before you outgrow this weird new obsession with volleyball. but then again, watching you play, it did seem like fun.

maybe, he’ll even give it a try one day.

two.

you’ve got a solid 10 centimeters on him by the time he and atsumu make it to the starting lineup in their middle school team. by then, you’d already been the star for an entire season, what with your boundless energy and your painful determination.

he’s seen you at school games, but of course he has — streaking along the sides of the court, jumping high enough to convince half the stadium that gravity does indeed play favorites.

“anddd… inarizaki middle takes another stunning victory over the girls at shukugawa tech! that number 11 is really someone to watch!”

he meets you after the match with a cold pocari sweat and a bag of caramel candies.

“you’re dropping your elbows on your spikes again,” he says, even as atsumu smacks both his palms into yours in celebration.

you pause, wiping at your face with the towel dangling around your neck.

“shaddap! we won, didn’t we?”

osamu sighs, “guess you did.”

“so, when’s your first game?”

osamu sniffs as he tries to keep the blush from crawling too far up his neck as he looks away.

“tomorrow afternoon.”

atsumu jabs a thumb into his chest with a cheeky grin, “you gonna be there to watch us cream the other team?”

“course i will!” you say as you flash them a smile that has osamu wondering if, just like gravity, perhaps the sun plays favorites too.

three.

the twins grow nearly a head and a half over one summer before high school and you’re inconsolable for weeks.

“it’s not fair!”

osamu sighs, fighting the urge to roll his eyes for the twelfth time that night as you smack another ball across the net and toss another for him to set.

ba-bam! thump thump thump.

“guys and girls grow different… it’s not like it’s a secret or anything —”

ba-bam! thump thump thump.

osamu catches the next ball you toss for him, straightening to shake his sweaty bangs from his eyes.

“you’re dropping your elbows again. and you’re pulling back too hard on your swing — you’re gonna throw out your shoulder if —”

“what’s it matter anyway?!”

your voice is loud enough to echo, even in the giant gymnasium, even with all the doors thrown open to let in the autumn breeze. osamu doesn’t miss your fingers curled into fists at your sides, he doesn’t miss the tremor in your voice like the first rumble of thunder before a summer storm.

“it matters cause if you injure yourself, you’re not gonna be able to play —”

“i — i haven’t grown since i was twelve years old! w-what’s it matter if i get hurt o-or if i can’t keep playing? it’s only a matter of time before i’m too short —”

“fine then. quit.”

your head jerks up, your eyes wide and watery as you stare at him. the ball falls out of your grip and bounces, listless, once, twice, three-four-five times against the waxed wooden floor before rolling to a stop against one of the padded net poles.

osamu shrugs, feeling suddenly too cold and too hot all at once as something he thinks might be anger roils in the depths of his stomach, and then all he wants to do is scream and run laps around the building till this inexplicable fire inside him goes out.

instead, he turns away from your piercing, accusatory gaze and starts picking up volleyballs, casually tossing them up and setting them back into the big blue ball bin.

“osamu… you giant fucking asshole!”

bomph-thwack — something smacks against the back of his head so hard his vision goes blurry. but before he has the strength to whip around and look for you, you’d already gone, racing out of the gym, leaving osamu utterly bewildered as he raises a hand to touch the bump already rising at the back of his head.

“ow… what the fuck was that?!”

later that night, when he recounts the tale to atsumu, who’d spent a solid fifteen minutes laughing at the fact that he’d gotten nailed in the head by a girl, atsumu had pinned him with a flatlined look and said —

“well, ya kinda did deserve it.”

to which osamu had responded by promptly shoving atsumu’s face into a pillow and holding it there.

four.

you don’t quit volleyball, because of course you don’t. and osamu knows you well enough by now to know that you run on a combination of energy drinks and spite. but you don’t talk to him for weeks, and that sucks more than he quite has the words to explain.

so he doesn’t. and he doesn’t.

atsumu is the first one to notice, but then when kita-san finds him in the lockers one day to ask him what’s wrong, osamu thinks that it must be more serious than he’d thought.

he finds you practicing by the river, his footsteps slowing as he pauses to watch the shape of you silhouetted against the setting sun, the ball bouncing up in perfect rhythm as you bend at the knees and bop it back up, again and again and again.

he allows himself a smile as he makes his way over and plops down in the grass.

“your shoulders are getting tense again.”

you don’t answer, don’t even show any sign that you’d heard him, expect for the near imperceptible drop in your shoulders as you force them down the second before the ball makes contact with your outstretched arms.

bomph-bomph-bomph

the ball goes up and up and up again.

you don’t turn to look at him so osamu takes a deep breath and casts his eyes up at the darkening sky.

“it was a shit thing to say. i’m s —”

“we’re playing shiratorizawa this weekend.”

you both speak at the same time.

bomph-bomph-bomph

osamu jerks upright to stare at you.

“shiratorizawa? aren’t they in miyagi? what are they doing here?”

you bump the ball way up and fall a few steps back. he watches as you mark the ball with your eyes, the way your whole body goes fluid as you do your run-up, bending down, your entire being held perfectly still for a single second before you leap up into the air.

like this, he thinks, it really does look like you’re flying.

thwack.

the ball comes straight at him, but this time, he’s ready for it. he jerks the side to avoid it and catches it as it threatens to bounce off towards the open road behind him.

“dunno… some kinda training camp or something,” you say, shrugging as you climb up the short incline to join him on the grass. you drop down next to him as he cradles the ball in his lap, eyes trained on his fingers as they dig into the worn grooves around the old ball.

“hm. their boys team is a pain in the ass to play against.”

you laugh, “their girls are just as bad.”

“hm.”

you turn towards him, “not gonna wish me good luck?”

osamu tosses the ball up to balance it on the tip of a single finger.

“why would i? ‘s not like you’re gonna need it anyway.”

you bump him with your shoulder before snatching the ball from his hand and jumping up to race off towards the road.

“mom’s makin’ gyoza tonight! last one there’s gotta do the dishes!”

osamu groans as he pushes himself up, but jogs after you all the same, wondering just how long of a head start he should give you before he races after you.

he shoves your head forward as he catches up to you, chuckling as you yelp.

“how bout if you win this weekend, i’ll come over and do the dishes for you for a whole week!”

you laugh, chasing after him, “and if we lose?”

osamu turns around, grinning as you narrow your eyes at his easy gait, even as he’s running backwards, still noticeably faster than you, “mah… i haven’t thought that far yet. i mean, ‘s not like you’re gonna lose, right?”

five.

when they lose to karasuno, you’re crying way harder than anyone on their team.

atsumu huffs, scowling to keep his own tears at bay as you bawl into his chest, your other arm wrapped around osamu’s waist. osamu sighs, reaching up to pat you placidly on the back, even as something in his own chest coils tight, and then tighter.

“d-damnit — you guys p-played so well, too! th-that little number t-ten was — was such a freak!”

at this, osamu chuckles, pulling back to take you by the shoulders, “says our own tiny volleyball freak.”

you sniffle and wipe at your eyes, glaring defiantly up at him. and as he watches you hiccup, reaching up to wipe at your red, puffy cheeks, something inside him seems to snap all at once.

he tugs you forward and before he knows it, all he can feel are your rapid, uneven breaths — all he can taste is salt and the faint hint of your mint chapstick.

he hears atsumu make a half-disgusted, half-resigned sort of sound next to him but he doesn’t care. he kisses you till your breaths are no longer choppy, till he can feel your fingers digging into the sore tightness in his biceps. till someone clears their throat and he pulls back, breathless, to find aran staring at him with his arms crossed.

“team meeting in five,” aran says as he pointedly turns back around to usher the rest of the stunned team towards where their stuff is. several people from other schools are staring and whispering behind their hands but at a sharp glare from atsumu, they all scatter.

“feeling better?” osamu asks, unable to keep the lilting edge of a tease out of his voice as he pulls you with him into a deserted corner of the stadium. you blink up at him, your eyes a bit unfocused and still red from crying as you reach up to press your fingers to your lips. and then, you jolt back to life all at once and whack him on the arm.

“ow! w-what was that for?!”

“did you do that just to stop me crying?”

“wha — no! i — i did it cause — i — i don’t really know why — ow! stop hitting me!”

osamu grabs your arms and pins them to your side, pressing you up against the large pillar behind you, currently keeping the two of you hidden from view. he stares down at you, at the way your eyes are bright and sharp even in this relative, borrowed darkness, at the way your chest heaves up and down, up and down, stretching at the fabric of your very well-fitted sports top. he stares at the way your lips are still parted, and he hates the fact that he now knows exactly how they taste, knows just how soft they are, after having wondered for years and years and years.

he wonders how long he’s wanted to kiss you.

longer, he thinks, probably, than the summer days.

longer, he knows, than the winter nights.

“s-samu?”

“hm? oh. sorry…” he shakes his head and lets you go slowly, but he should’ve known you’d never let him off that easy. it’s just not who you are.

you narrow your eyes and he feels caught by your gaze.

“if you didn’t do it to stop me crying… then why’d you do it?”

osamu allows himself a deep sigh, taking half a step back, “ah… can’t a guy just kiss the girl he likes without being interrogated about it?”

you blink, and then, you reach out to whack him again.

“dumbass-samu… you’re gonna be late to your team meeting.”

osamu feels a strange mixture of pride and elation ballooning in his chest as he notices the way you’re blushing, the way you refuse to meet his eyes. he reaches down to ruffle your hair even as you yelp and try to swat him away.

“right, right — wait for me, yeah?”

you roll your eyes but you’re smiling as you say, “of course, idiot… where else would i be?”

six.

“so tell me… why’d you really kiss me that time after the karasuno match?”

it’s winter, two years later, and osamu’s arm is slung casually around your shoulders as the rest of the team chatters and drinks and makes a mess in the corner of the bought-out restaurant for their first annual high school reunion.

osamu hums, nursing a half-finished glass of sake.

“mah… i guess i just wanted to make myself feel better after getting my ass whopped, y’know?”

you laugh and try to dig your elbow into his side but he clamps his arm around you and holds you close. outside, the snow is finally starting to slow.

“have you figured it out yet, then? what you’re gonna study in college?”

at this, osamu turns to cast you a sidelong look.

“you’re not mad that i’m quitting volleyball?”

you shrug, “why would i be mad? it’s not like you’re making me quit with you.”

this time, he shrugs, “well, tsumu was mad for like… a week.”

you roll your eyes, “yeah, and i’m so similar to your brother.”

osamu makes a noncommittal noise that once again prompts you to try and elbow him in the side.

“then you tell me… what do you think a former volleyball star should do after quitting, hm?”

you swirl your own drink around your glass, your cheeks dusted in pink as you consider for a moment. then, you smirk as you look back up at him with a wistful gaze.

“make ramen or riceballs or… something like that, right?”

osamu smiles, leaning down to gaze his lips along your cheek before reaching out to tip your head back to press you lips to his.

“y’know, that actually doesn’t sound like such a terrible idea.”

2k celebration reqs still open! :)

[yamsfrecklvs]

tits, ass or thighs?

ft. kuroo, iwaizumi, oikawa, bokuto, tsukishima, atsumu, osamu

warnings: i mean... the title speaks for itself i think! implied fem reader ; also not proofread

MDNI!!!

☆ kuroo : tetsuro is a simple man. there isn't a single thing he doesn't like about you. but the man absolutely adores thighs. put on a pair of shorts or a miniskirt and he'll fall to his knees. to be fair, he's a man of taste, so not only does he love thighs, but he's also a sucker for ass. can and will smack it whenever he can, not even in a strictly sexual way, but simply because he likes having his hands on you. ass and thighs will absolutely be used as a pillow, there's no debating it. he will also not so sneakily squeeze your thigh while sitting down or grip it while he’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat. hell, he’d die between your thighs if he could, because let me remind you, this man is an EATER. (just leaving this here)

☆ iwaizumi : i mean, have you seen him? ass. he physically cannot function if he sees you in tight skirts or pants and his hand can always be found in your back pocket if you two are walking together. definitely lightly smacks your butt to celebrate or tell you that you're doing a good job (throwback to him smacking makki's ass bc he scored a point). loves loves looooves to leave marks on it - fingerprints, bites, hickeys, you name it - and he will shamelessly stare at it in public.

☆ oikawa : i think we can all agree on the fact that this man loves tits. seriously. doesn't care if they're big or small, he just loves your chest. he will absolutely use them as pillows and/or slip his hands under your shirt while you're cuddling. loves to see you walk around the house without your bra on, bonus points if you're wearing his clothes. and if there's one thing that makes his knees weak it's seeing tan lines on your chest - one look and he's over the moon. he also probably has a thing for cute lingerie, especially cute bras - or rather, he has a thing for taking said cute lingerie off of you.

☆ bokuto : don't ask him. he genuinely cannot choose, it's physically impossible for him, especially because he's got his hands all over you 99% of the time. probably has a slight preference for ass but he doesn't even realize it. you definitely have his handprints all over your ass because he cannot for the love of god control his strength but he also profusely says sorry if he ever hurts you. either way, wear anything remotely tight or revealing and he's gonna lose his mind.

☆ tsukishima : he will never ever admit it, but tits. he says he doesn’t care and claims to love every part of you equally, but you’ll definitely catch him lacking if you wear anything low cut. of course, he isn’t the type to shamelessly stare at your boobs, we’re talking about kei after all, but you know him, and you can tell his eyes linger on your chest just a little more than usual. and also, they’re the first place he reaches for when cuddling gets a little spicier. probably likes leaving marks on your tits because they’re not as visible as your neck and because he swears that ‘hickeys are stupid’. he still does it nonetheless. again, doesn’t mind if they’re big or small. he just loves them.

☆ atsumu : take a good look at him and tell me this man isn’t a certified boob lover. seriously. bonus points if you have your nips pierced. he just loves boobs. back hug? his hands are finding their way on your chest. cuddling? his face is pressed between your tits. doesn’t give a fuck about looking like an idiot while gawking at them, either. he’s just completely enamoured with them, probably loves to suck on them too. also, i feel like he has a thing for girls with tiny waists, don’t know why. he too loves to spoil you with pretty lingerie and definitely loses his mind whenever he sees a bra strap peeking out of any of your shirts.

☆ osamu : now, hear me out. osamu miya loves to cook. he also loves a woman who EATS. for this reason i’m a firm believer of osamu being a man who loves thighs. loves having his face between them, using them as a pillow, biting into them. he will go insane for thigh highs and absolutely adores when they get bigger as you sit down. there’s nothing this man appreciates more than a pair of pretty legs showing up under a short skirt. he would gladly be crushed by your thighs, but he doesn’t dismiss ass either. generally, i think he likes everything - but thighs, they’re his utter weakness. expect many, many hickeys and marks all over them. and, just like kuroo, i just have the slightest feeling that osamu is a munch - make him suffocate and he’ll die happy.

@yamsfrecklvs