okey-do-key

[okey-do-key]

osamu'd asked him whether he was okay.

sunarin nodded, but no, he wasn't okay. he was absolutely not okay. his dick was aching and throbbing, straining inside the confines of his pants and he could swear there was a darker spot painting the material right where his leaking tip was nestled against.

he could hear your voices in the kitchen, preparing some snacks, but all suna could think about was fisting his cock right here right now, squeeze his base and flush his slick hand against the heated skin, up and down, twist on top, thumb to finger the slit.

he was not okay.

not when the light hit the window and he could make out the remnants of skin oil painting a picture — tits that were pressed against the glass, the imprint of your cheek and hand close by, the one of osamu's, larger, above it, right next to where your head would have been.

suna bit his tongue, eyes drinking in the filthy picture of what you were doing before he came over, and he let his gaze roam, trying to see whether he'd find any evidence of samu's cum spattered anywhere. he didn't and his head tilted back, eyes queezing hard, hand squeezing his clothed dick harder when he realised you must have let osamu spill inside you, pussy holding all of his friend's cum.

a groan wanted to escape him that suna swallowed down, pained.

he couldn't stop palming himself, couldn't stop the feeling of his ears heating up and the sound of blood rushing, couldn't stop conjuring up the image of your tits pressed up against the window, squished and aching for the world to see and couldn't stop the hot rush of jealousy that he couldn't see it.

he came in his pants, hips lifting from the couch, material all soaked through, pumping and pumping out his spill, sticky and wet and his heart was racing, and osamu's voice sounded exceptionally amused when he registered the man standing behind up, looking down at the glazed look in suna's eyes.

"ya made quite a mess, rin."

TAGLIST | @takes1 ; @sodaneko ; @mattsundaes (special thanks to you for the perpetual brainrot again) ; @classicalelephant ; @pomigranit ; @sugacor3 ; @boktuoafterdark ; @onmycloudyet ;

[okey-do-key]

Here’s a few scattered thoughts I have about Roommates!OsaSunaYn. This is not proofread and I’ve not wrote much before, but I hope you enjoy!!

Really busy with work/university? Osamu is keeping you fed and hydrated. He will provide your favorite foods and snacks the second he realizes you’ve been too busy to get something yourself. He also gives the most comforting hugs known to man, if you’re particularly stressed then he’ll even play with your hair or give a light massage too. Your stress will be gone the second you lay your head on his chest, and Osamu is only slightly smug about it. Suna provides the moral support and comfort of having someone nearby, he knows life’s a little less stressful with good company. He mostly just tries to show you memes with a few demands for attention thrown in. Don’t worry, he’s so dedicated to his role that he’ll even fall asleep on FaceTime with you while he’s away

You and Osamu get a little bit closer a little bit quicker since Suna has to leave for away games. Cue Suna being jealous until he realizes it’s goldmine for cute candid photos of his two favorite people. How dare you both be so comfortable and cute together without him! And it’s literally just you two sitting next to each other on the couch or you washing dishes while Osamu cooks and don’t move too much or you’ll ruin the pic

Suna is clingy in the same way a cat is, always has to be near one of you but will not acknowledge it. Osamu is cooking in the kitchen? Suna just happens to be sitting at the island cause he wanted a snack or just got home. You’re working at your desk? Suna is on your bed or spare chair, your room is a nicer temperature and cozier than his after all. Headed out to the shop? What a coincidence, he needs some things too! If you don’t give him attention, or give him the silent treatment, then he may get a bit mean until he gets his way

Speaking of cats, you know the rule about a cat falling asleep in your lap so you can’t move ever again? Yeah that’s all three of you when someone falls asleep on the other during a movie. Osamu could sleep anywhere so he’s probably the ‘cat’ most of the time. But it’s like oh no! You fell asleep leaning on Osamu with your feet is Sunas lap? Whatever will they do?? Die there, that’s what. No one even thinks about moving until they wake up unless theres an emergency. They’ll even resort to texting each other instead of speaking to not be noisy

When y’all first moved in, the winter months were spent with each of you having your own blanket during movie night. The first summer everyone was dressed somewhat modestly, out of respect for new roommates and only a normal amount of horniness for one another. As the seasons went on, everyone got bolder. Winter movie nights suddenly required less blankets, opting instead to share one while cuddled between the two men. Summer is spent sneaking glances at each other, and not so subtly wearing less or smaller clothes. Honestly at this point you’re lucky if Suna is in more than a towel around his waist after a shower, or osamu is cooking in more than his boxers and an apron. At least Osamu has the decency to not force you into a lengthy conversation while half naked. Does he catch you sneaking glances and sneak a few of his own? Absolutely, but you’re both respectful and subtle enough in your appreciation of each other. However, Suna will go to great lengths to keep the conversation going if it means he gets to watch you struggle to hold eye contact and stumble over your words, all while he stares at you knowingly.

[okey-do-key]

submission by @okey-do-key

Hi!! I love your roommates!osasunayn works, your mind is truly amazing! I had a small idea for them that I wanted to share. No pressure to share it or anything, just thought you might enjoy! Have a lovely day!! It may not be written very well so please be gentle with me…

Okay so what if after moving in with them, you bring a guy home. Maybe roommates!osasuna are already crushing a bit, maybe they already talk to each other about you, maybe they’re don’t. Anyway, you bring the guy home and it’s underwhelming, he’s leaving way too quickly. You try to sneak the guy out as not to draw attention to how quick things happened, and how unhappy you are. But they notice, of course they notice! Osamu doesn’t say anything, just gives a sympathetic look. Suna though? He’s a menace. It’s gentle teases at first like how you’re way too good for that guy anyway, you must be really good in bed if he was gone that quick, that guy was probably an asshole anyway, etc. After a while the teases will turn into how he could show you some real fun, he’d last for hours for you, maybe he’d even let Osamu have a turn. Osamu tries to keep Suna in line for your sake with pointed looks and light jabs at the man. However the teasing will continue as long as you’ll let him, afterall it’s just jokes, right? Except it’s not jokes, he’s testing your reactions to see how far you’ll let him go. He has to know if the desire is mutual without directly asking. Suddenly Osamu’s not as quick to shut him down, his own curiosity slowly getting the better of him as Suna continues to joke test the waters. It’s not long before the comments start to get to you and you never bring anyone else home. When confronted, you tell them you just don’t want to be disappointed again, but deep down you know the only men you could ever want are already home.

[okey-do-key]

catching your roommates!osasuna off guard is your most favourite game to play; today's edition, and your ultimate move — much in alignment with the game they are playing — has you walk into the living room wearing their clothing.

as always, osamu's already attuned to your presence when you walk in, automatically, like his senses always search for you when you're near. his eyes glancing towards to, his jaw goes slightly slack in the middle of his sentence, and the controller in his hand dips like he's forgotten what it's for. his eyes are glued to your bare throat, your hair clipped back to allow his favourite spot to bite to wink at him, his shirt slipping off one of your shoulders, revealing proof of his lovin'.

"'samu," suna says flatly, "you're wide open."

osamu doesn't answer, and so sunarin looks up at what stole his attention. just once, and oh, the way his eyes narrow was so very delicious. his game reflexes are good, sure, but they're no match for the sight of his boxers sitting so low on your hips, hugging them only second best to his hands.

throwing the controller onto the couch, rintaro leans back, his shirt riding up, revealing the trail of hair disappearing into the waistband of his pants.

TAGLIST | @takes1 ; @classicalelephant ; @pomigranit ; @onmycloudyet ; @sugacor3 ; @boktuoafterdark ;

[okey-do-key]

roommates!osasuna who take care of you so well when you're on your period. it takes only a slight wince from the pain, a shift of muscles to accommodate the ever-lasting ache in your back, your stomach, your thighs, maybe even just a sigh that's a tiny bit too heavy, and osamu's clocked it immediately. heating pad? water bottle? food? he's on it within a millisecond. in fact, he even keeps tabs on your water intake and threatens to hydrate you, pushing up a glass of water towards your lips his voice scolding, "you drink one glass or i pour it in yer mouth."

he's into that, you know, but you ignore it in favour of the heated look he gives you when your tongue spills out to catch any drops.

suna notices second, flopping on top of you like a weighted blanket, his cheek mushed against yours, entirely unhelpful in removing himself when your hands press against his chest, even though his warmth and the heaviness of his limbs was soothing to your body. but you'd rather die than admit it to suna rintaro, who would hold his magical body above your head or worse, make you beg for it.

and when you groan about your cramps killing you, his voice is flat when he asks, "want me to fight your uterus?"

roommates!osasuna who rub your stomach and thighs with heavy pressure; osamu's big hand gliding under your shit, his palm warm against your skin. suna massages your legs, half-asleep, barely looking but with careful weight like he knows exactly where you get tense, how to get you to arch your back when your muscles hurt so good under his fingertips. you always end up in the middle between these two: suna's typically sprawled over your legs, osamu's got an arm slung over your waist and his face buried in your neck, the soft exhale grazing your skin like a love claim.

roommates!osasuna who are so obnoxiously unbothered when you're snappy and cranky that it drives you even more insane.

when you yell at suna for breathing too loud, he raises an eyebrow, unimpressed face pissing you off even further, "do you need a nap or something in your mouth?"and you chuck a pillow at him, but over the soft fringe of the cushion, his eyes never stray from yours until you give him a definitive no. most of the time, you end up giving in, if only because you enjoy the way he gets you to pant around his fingers.

"still wanna bitch about how loud i breathe," he huffs, fingers digging into your hips, "when you're the one who's whining like crazy now?"

osamu, though, doesn't get sassy with you. he just gets up all in your face when you're grumpy, when you mumble things that suspiciously sound like you're challenging him, annoyed, snappy and his breath fans over your face, voice soft and quiet, "ya wanna fight or cuddle?"

he's down for both — holds you down until you've cried your emotions out, his big arms caging you in so you couldn't escape, not until your fists open up against his chest and hold his shirt instead of your own fingers, until you fall asleep with wet eyelashes and snot that you haven't sniffled up yet.

roommates!osasuna who circle around you, attentive and soft-handed. you were grateful at first, but now? your nerves are raw, thighs aching, your medicament only having dimmed your pain and god, they're lounging around you on the bed, offering you space, when you don't want space. yet, they kept hovering around you today, caressing your hair and then moving away before you could nuzzle into their touch. it annoys you to no ends.

a noncommittal grum escapes you and osamu reaches out with one hand, tracing soft circles on your temple in a warm massage, "still hurtin', sweetheart?"

you huff and turn around to face him, face burying in his shirt. suna stretches beside you, his hand falling in your face, and you slap it away, "am fine."

your tone's clipped, trying to sound flat, and it has suna glancing over to you from his spot, eyes sharp under heavy lids. he doesn't move, but that's the problem.

neither. of. them. do.

osamu doesn't push, his hand still carding through your hair, his thumb dragging back and forth in a soft swipe on your forehead. but suna?

suna watches you a second longer, then cocks his head, "you've been sulking for hours. so what is it?"

your jaw tightens, and you don't answer.

"just say it," he clicks his tongue, unimpressed.

"i said i'm fine."

"no, you said it like a little liar."

osamu lets out a breath, something close to a little quiet laugh, and his digits dance on your skin, down from your forehead to your jaw to your throat. the way the tip of his fingers hover softly over the rhythmic moving of your pulse has warmth seep through your skin and run along your veins.

"sweetheart," he murmurs, and dips down to brush his lips against your clothed shoulder, "i think i know."

you refuse to speak again. you can't, more like it. your throat's too tight and your cheeks too hot, hating how they manage to read you, even when you try to stay quiet on purpose.

the pillow next to your head dips and suna leans over you, his hair trying to follow gravity as it brushes your forehead. he was entirely too close and his voice was a low drawl that curls around you and under your flesh, "you always get this grumpy when you want something and won't ask for it. are you waiting for us to figure it out, or are you going to stop being a brat and finally use your words?"

you bare your teeth at him, "don't start."

"too late," he grins a little, entirely mocking, entirely annoying, and it makes you want to throw a pillow at him again, except your limbs are too heavy and your pride currently too fragile.

a soft press of fingers into your skin, "c'mon, sweetheart. ya don't hafta fight us so hard. just tell us what ya need, hm?"

biting the inside of your cheek, you scowl, stubborn to the pull in your chest. it's not that you don't want their hands on you, because you do, so very badly. but now when they look at you like they know you've been aching and they know that you want to be close and connected, want to suffocate in their presence, feel them all over you and all around you, it makes your ears burn with something that could be interpreted as embarrassment.

you almost want to say no again, if only to not have to bare yourself like that, to ignore the way they try to draw it out of you so gently. a secret folded like an origami, them pulling at the corners.

"it's not me," your voice was quiet, trying to hide the dejected tone, "you're the ones who are acting weird. you keep touching me and then act like i'm gonna fall apart."

osamu's hand stills for a second, but when he moves, it's slower and with more pressure. "we didn't wanna push ya, sweetheart."

"well, push me."

suna tilts his head, searching for his eyes and for a moment, his gaze is uncharacteristically serious, "you need more than you're willing to say, baby, yeah?"

"but that doesn't mean i don't want it," you mumble, lips pressed together.

"yeah," he says and lets himself fall next to you. his weight jostles the bed, but you pay it no mind as you face him. his hand comes up to squish your cheeks together, "but we got rules about that, remember? as much as i really would love to know the nasty shit your pretty little head gets up to, we can't read your mind."

your face heats up, the warmth blooming across your neck and chest. you don't retreat this time, though, fingers wrapping around his wrist but not to pull him away, just to touch him, to feel him and make sure he doesn't leave again. suna stills under your touch, his breath catching a little. he loves playing coy, but now — he wasn't expecting you to give in to his teasing.

osamu leans over from your other side and threads his hand through sunarin's hair. his fingers move gently, not just affection clear in the soft handling but also partly silent praise. suna's body shifts just a little, any tension in his shoulders slipping easily underneath osamu's hands.

"turn yer back to me, sweetheart."

you listen easily; osamu's hand helping your hips to turn to face suna, nose almost touching sunarin's, breathing in the air he breathes out, and when rintaro cups your mound with his hand, it's like he's holding you.

one hand of osamu's comes round to hold your belly, apply pressure right where you've been aching, his other snakes its way underneath your body to squeeze your tender chest, hand massaging the soft well with intention, thumb rubbing over your nipple slowly.

there's pressure building up in your throat and your nose itches, a pricking at your lash line from the sudden overwhelming sensation surrounding you: of hands that want to make you feel good, of bodies that engulf you like you're something precious, of soothing voices and lips that kiss the tears away, and when rintaro leans forward to slot his mouth over yours, you find it's done so with the utmost tenderness. the hand holding your face is warm, his tongue is warmer as it dips into your mouth again and again.

"you can let go, baby, turn that brain off, just let go."

something rises inside you at their touches, at the way suna's fingers slip into your shorts and rub your clit in featherlight circles, at the way osamu's hand feels around at your entrance, fingertips caressing the ring of muscle, collecting each drop that threatens to slip out to stuff it back into you, using the fluidity of your period to help him against the resistance.

his digits reach deep, slow, voice heavy against your ear as he shushes you, and sunarin's right there, swallowing your cries with his kisses like he could return your outbursts of pleasure.

when you arch against rintaro, it's a soft one. a high that hugs you, that's not like a crash, but a wave that crests and lingers, warm and weightless. your breath stutters, and it's caught between a sigh and a whisper, and they're right there with you: steady hands, grounding touch, lips brushing over your temple, another set on your throat.

"there ya go, sweetheart, calm, calm."

and they pull that out of you again and again, until you're a pliable mess between them, until osamu's easing himself into and rin's cock is trapped between your thighs, nestled against your puffy, swollen clit and your filled pussy, until they're both grinding and spill all over and inside you, too.

slick thighs, squelching noises, fullness everywhere, warmth in your belly the way osamu holds you, suna's fingers that wipe your tears, until your mouth falls open, eyes squeezed shut tight and you allow your thoughts to escape you.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

TAGLIST | @sodaneko ; @takes1 ; @sugacor3 ; @boktuoafterdark ; @classicalelephant ; @pomigranit ;

[okey-do-key]

—hq! boys reaction to you wearing their shirts( ft. Suna, oikawa, Ushijima,kuroo, & osamu)

Suna Rintarou^᪲᪲᪲

The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow over your sleeping boyfriend. For once, you wake up before him, stretching as you sit up in bed. The air is a little chilly, so you grab the nearest thing—Suna’s jersey—from the floor and slip it on. It drapes loosely over your body, the hem barely covering your thighs.

You get up, padding towards the kitchen to grab some water, but before you make it far, a sleepy voice stops you.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You glance back to see Suna, one eye barely open, his cheek squished against the pillow. When he finally processes what you’re wearing—or rather, what you’re not wearing—his lips curl into a lazy smirk.

“Damn… and I thought I was dreaming.” His voice is raspy, thick with sleep, but there’s a hint of amusement in it.

“You were dreaming,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Mm… well, don’t leave yet. ‘ its cruel waking me up like this and just walking away.” He lifts an arm, inviting you back. “C’mere.”

With a sigh, you crawl back into bed, and he instantly wraps himself around you, his long fingers tracing slow circles on your bare thigh.

“You should wear my shirts more often,” he murmurs. “Or just wear nothing. That works too.”

Oikawa Tooru^᪲᪲᪲

You step out of the bathroom, towel-drying your hair, wearing nothing but Oikawa’s volleyball jersey. It was the only thing available since you forgot to bring a change of clothes, but it’s comfortable enough.

Oikawa is lying on his bed, scrolling through his phone, but the second he looks up, his entire body goes still. His mouth parts slightly, and then—

“W-Wait… that’s mine.”

You raise an eyebrow, confused. “Yeah?”

His ears are turning red, and his phone slips from his fingers as he dramatically throws his head back onto the pillow. “This isn’t fair! You can’t just—just walk out wearing that and expect me to be normal about it!”

You snort. “Oh, relax, Tooru. It’s just a shirt.”

“No, it’s not ‘just a shirt,’ it’s my shirt, and you’re...” He gestures wildly at you. “...looking like that in it.”

He groans, covering his face. “I swear you’re trying to kill me.”

You roll your eyes and grab a pillow, tossing it at him. “Drama queen.”

But later, when he thinks you’re not paying attention, he keeps sneaking glances, biting his lip as if trying to hold back another flustered reaction.

Ushijima Wakatoshi ^᪲᪲᪲

You’re waiting for Ushijima to finish showering after practice, sitting in his room wearing his team jersey since your own clothes feel a bit uncomfortable. It’s oversized on you, hanging off your shoulders just enough to be teasing.

When he steps inside, towel drying his hair, he pauses mid-step. His sharp eyes scan you, lingering for a moment.

“That’s my shirt.”

You shrug. “Yeah, and?”

There’s a brief silence, and then he simply nods. “It suits you.”

You blink. That’s it? No teasing? No visible reaction? You expected something.

He moves to grab his water bottle, completely unfazed, but when you cross your legs, making the hem of the jersey ride up a little, you notice his grip tighten slightly around the bottle.

Interesting.

“I should wear your stuff more often,” you say casually, watching him closely.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but his ears turn a little pink as he takes a slow sip of water. “…I wouldn’t mind.”

So he is affected, you think, smirking to yourself.

Kuroo Tetsurou^᪲᪲᪲

Kuroo comes home late from a team meeting, stretching his arms above his head as he walks into the living room—only to immediately freeze.

You’re curled up on the couch in his hoodie, scrolling through your phone like it’s no big deal. Except the hoodie is long enough to almost pass as a dress, leaving your legs completely bare.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?” His voice is low, teasing.

You look up, unbothered. “I got cold.”

Kuroo stalks over, plopping down beside you. He tilts your chin up with a finger, his golden eyes flickering with mischief. “Is this your way of trying to seduce me? Because if so, it’s working.”

You roll your eyes. “Not everything I do is about you, Tetsu.”

“Oh? But you’re wearing my hoodie. And nothing else, might I add.” His grin widens. “Tell me, was this a strategic move?”

You shove his face away playfully, but he just laughs, pulling you onto his lap. “Sorry, kitten, but now you have to stay right here.”

And just like that, you’re stuck with a smug Kuroo for the rest of the night.

Osamu Miya^᪲᪲᪲

The house is dark and quiet as you tiptoe into the kitchen, stomach rumbling. Osamu is fast asleep, so you decide to grab a snack—still only wearing his t-shirt, the fabric swallowing you up.

You’re munching on some chips when you hear footsteps. Turning around, you see Osamu leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, hair messy from sleep.

“Well, ain’t this a sight,” he drawls, his voice husky.

You blink, chip halfway to your mouth. “You want some?”

He pushes off the doorway, walking toward you with slow, deliberate steps. “Nah,” he mutters, hands landing on your hips as he pulls you close. “I’m craving something else now.”

Your breath hitches as he dips his head, lips brushing against your ear.

“Shoulda woken me up,” he murmurs. “I wouldn’t mind sharing a late-night snack.”

You swallow. “You mean the chips, right?”

He chuckles, stealing one from your hand before scooping you up effortlessly. “Sure, darlin’. The chips.”

You don’t make it back to the kitchen for a while after that.

[okey-do-key]

going crazy over how husband material osamu is, hear me ouuutttt

tags : fluff, time-skip, f!reader, tattoo , he listens to, he cares , and he cook , i’m thirsting m sorry

osamu would be the type of bestfriend that knows damn well you want him bad but keeps on teasing you and acting clueless just to see how far you can go before you crack

as childhood friends, it was normal for you to be touchy and generally comfortable with each other but it raised his suspicions when you now looked away when he was topless around you. it’s not like you were uncomfortable with it ?

you’ve basically lived your whole life with the miyas, you’ve seen osamu wet the bed as a kid, get rejected by his middle school crush you’ve even witnessed him putting his hand in his pants and scratch his butt, seeing him topless in the comfort of his apartment was a casual thing so why the hell would you look away , did he lose his shape ? no, he still worked out frequently even if he’s not an athlete anymore…

either way osamu always took care for you, he was always so careful when it comes to you , sure he’d playfully hit you here and there but it was nothing you couldn’t handle

just imagine him cooking you a nice heart-warming meal, glancing at you every now and then while you’re sitting on the counter looking like a mess after a long exhausting day , wine glass in hand and rambling your worries away. it really became a ritual for you to swing by his place unannounced after a bad day.

he’d open the door with his signature lazy smile “ya had a bad day?” you finally let you shoulders relax “long story..” he steps back, inviting you in “i got time”.

sometimes osamu gets this weird feeling he can’t explain when he realizes he’s seen you grow into a real woman, it really freaked him tf out when you told him you had your first time with some boy he never heard the name of.

he scolds you after a bad decision for sure , but he’s always there to comfort you right after. SO imagine his surprise when during a drunken confession after you finally listened to him and dumped your toxic bf, you admit to him between sobs that broke his heart into pieces

“why can’t i find a guy that actually likes me—?” your face was buried in his now wet tshirt , his strong arms holding you tight as if they were gonna protect you from feeling hurt, your words were muffled, melting together “why can’t i find someone like you samu…im so jealous of the girl that’s gonna be yours” holy fucking shit how was he so blind to never realize this…

thank god that night was complete blurry in your mind , so when you woke up the day completely hung over and found your beloved best friend making you breakfast with a bed hair and his sleeves rolled up showing off his forearms that you find really hot for some reason , your slight blush was explained.

omfg the day he showed up to your workplace during his break with a well crafted lunch box he made full of delicious onigiris because he listens and he remembers that your annoying coworker kept flaunting her relationship to you and it pissed you off and you wanted to show her that you can pull too

ever since he realized the power he had over you, he wouldn’t stop just picking at you and seeing how far he can go, he was basically testing the waters by stretching until his shirt lifts up, hold eye contact for a lil longer than what he should, and how he praises you don’t get me startedddd

“yer actually pretty decent at this” when you cook dinner with him, “look at ya bein all confident and independent !” when you actually tell the waiter they got your order wrong, “yer pretty distractin’ yk that? that’s kinda dangerous.”

osamu was a pretty touchy guy, not overly cuddly or anything but he did enjoy proximity, he’d usually hold your wrist when passing crowds but for some reason he now held your waist, his touch gentle yet firm on you. istg his hand placement is impeccable

there’s just something about him keeping a hair tie on his wrist for you that’s so endearing, so caring and attentive to your lil daily struggles.

it all happened when you got your first tattoo, he had sent you to his friend whom he deemed good enough to ink your body. he was nervous and excited as if he was the one getting tattooed but that’s mostly because you wanted to keep it a mystery, he knew that when he came home after closing the shop he’d find you there already.

there was just something so intimate about him coming back from work and finding you already at his place , he liked it, he could get use to it.

“ ‘m here !” he yelled out closing the door behind him , analyzing you from head to toe as you pop infront of him with his tshirt and shorts on displaying an almost mischievous smile, his eyebrows creasing as he doesn’t see any trace of a tattoo on your arms or legs, maybe it was on your shoulders?

he plopped down on his couch , man spreading “soo… are ya gonna show me or ?” you happily turn to the side, his eyes widen as you lift up the shirt enough to reveal a sideboob tattoo. he sits up the shock visible on his face “holy shit cmere” you obey him , getting closer for him to get a better look. with a swift motion his arm was now around your hip , pushing you to sit on one of his legs

he clearly recognized his friend’s intricate style, the design cupping the side of your boob, he wanted to admire his work but damn he felt a lil jealous that he worked so close to you. he finally looked at you only now noticing your reddish face

his face was just inches from yours, his previously shocked expression fading as he met your eyes. he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your jaw, and for a split second, everything around you felt quiet, just the two of you in that small space. he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though, breaking the tension as he nudged you lightly

“didn’t know you had it in ya to do somethin’ like that” he whispered.

before you could answer, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, gently pulling you in. his lips brushed yours, just a soft, teasing touch, before pulling back slightly with that same smirk. “couldn’t resist,” he muttered under his breath, and this time, when he kissed you again, it was longer, deeper—no more teasing, just the feeling of the moment taking over.

i’m currently such a sucker for time skip osamu he’s all i’m thinking about

[okey-do-key]

sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

[okey-do-key]

a part of touch starved osamu mess i just want to get out of my head

cw touch starved soft osamu, talk of boners, penetrative sex, dirty talk

osamu miya has few simple but sure set of obsession.

food, his restaurant, his family and every single fucking time he sees you play volleyball. you, a perfectionist, who likes to try and think you are able to hide your ‘workouts’ at home masking as self care didn’t realise that it was just feeding his kink.

if he could ever call it that.

it started monday morning, so simple and innocent as you stretching off your sleep by the bed side. his lazy eyes shot opened as it fell on your back. the defined muscles barely hidden by his old high school sleeveless jersey as you tried to shake off last night’s sleep. nuzzling into the pillow that smelled just like you, he watched as you tied your hair, yawned and leaned forward to stretch further. the bed hadn’t been the kindest on your back and that muffled crack of your joints had you moaning in relief. you turned around, half smile with a flush on your cheeks, “mornin’ baby,” your raspy sleepy voice greeted him like a cup of coffee on a rush hour. his heartbeat were a mess. you leaned to kiss his nose and left for the bathroom. it was baffling how oblivious his wife was to the nuisance she had imposed on him. he knew you were saying something but nothing registered in his head. it has to be a dud because boys’ scout could’ve camp in his short.

on wednesday, osame got the privilege to drop off some food for lunch. he didn’t planned to sponsor the entire’s team lunch, but you’ll always come home with a pout saying one of your teammates had gobbled half of it. happy wife is a happy life, so on this rare occasion, he had hauled his ass, drove an hour away with a trunk full of onigiri and some special bento for you. which also means, he got to see you train. he missed volleyball, maybe for the memories or the people he had play with, but an entire career of it was too handful. his face flushed, feet glued to the floor.

had the uniform always been this short?

the short hugged your ass so well that every time you lowered down to receive a serve, he wondered how the fuck is the material holding up. women’s volleyball had always had the sleeveless jersey but every time you jumped, it turned into a crop top. his mouth dried up as beads of sweat roll off your toned belly. he didn’t realised how long he had been standing there, trays of food in hand until somebody blew a whistle. your eyes finally met. it was pretty how easy you shook off all the ache in your muscle, glowing in happiness as your eyes set on him. you didn’t realised that he knew you too well like the back of his hand, the overwhelmed eyes you made was the same fucking look he craved every time he trapped you with his body down on the bed. samu, t’much, it echoed in his head. you licked your lips, a small smile on your face. osamu blushed. he knew it was for the food, but boy, the walk of shame he had to do down the hall with the food tray low to his waist down the cafeteria was hellish to bear.

saturday came like a breeze. it was your rest day because sunday is game day. osamu, like a perfect partner he is would always took the day off. what’s the point of paying his competent working extra on his day off if he is unable to spend some time with you. “y’kno, they call it a rest day because yer supposed ta rest,” he muttered, watching in annoyance as you unrolled the yoga mat in the living room. with the coffee table pushed aside and some old 90s sitcom rolling on the tv that you both had watched on repeat for the umpteenth time, you stick your tongue out, ignoring your whiny husband’s stare as he nursed his morning coffee.

“i’m just restless. so yoga helps.”

if it was years ago, he would’ve blamed it on atsumu for introducing it to you. but as he brought the cup up to his lips, his body tensed and the coffee started to taste a little bitter than it was supposed to be. because now atsumu is an annoyance for instigating the growing feeling he had as his wife pulled an upward dog. was it upward dog, whatever the fuck the position called but all he knew was his view was no longer the clean house he slaved his years to buy but his wife’s fleshy ass up in the air. his eyes followed like a hawk, from one position to another position. every time your eyes met, you flashed a smile, talking about something that he was sure wasn’t that significant. he promised, when he isn’t throbbing hard behind the kitchen counter, staining his boxer with his pre cum, osamu is a great listener.

he didn’t realise he had moved until you called his name. he was standing behind you, his hands were on your waist as he sort of pinned you down from moving. you were stuck in the position, bending forward palms flat on the floor, unable to lift your legs to complete the downward facing dog split.

“samu?”

his mouth dried up again. “y-your back wasn’t straight enough when you lift your leg. i’ll help.” you shrugged at his words, pleased that your husband wasn’t annoyed but keen to help. you raised your leg and it went up until you were able to support it by his shoulder. it was perfect until something clicked. you cursed.

“samu, you’re an asshole.”

his fingers reached for the elastic of your shorts. “straighten up, ya not holding yer posture correctly,” he muttered nonchalantly, a small spark of naughtiness glinted in his eyes as he pushed your back side lower until it was brushing against his growing bulge. “i would, if you’ll stop brushing your cock against me,” you hissed, watching as his short pooled along his ankles.

he hushed you, spitting lightly along his shaft, tugging lightly before running gently against your slit. you cursed again, bracing your palm against the floor as your arms trembled. the sound he was making wasn’t helping you as it went straight down to your aching cunt. osamu took his sweet time, with you trapped in the position, his other hand kneaded your ass, slowly rutting against your cunt. the friction from the thong and pooling wetness were driving him insane.

“tsumu said that the pose can build yer core strength,” he watched excitedly as your legs trembled every time his tip brushed against your clit, “just focus on ya hands and i’ll take care of the rest, ‘kay?”

the weak sigh and soft okay out of your lips were reassuring that osamu alone wasn’t the one having fun here. he loves it when you submit to his needs, even when it was ridiculous to bear. you always thought you married the sane one. the tv were now on the black screen, prompt of ‘are you still watching?’ appeared as his cock finally slipped in. he could see your twisted face on the reflective screen.

osamu is a sick person in mind.

he was sick for you and the way your cunt kept sucking him in drove him wild. this was his kind of yoga. his thrusts were erratic, your back flushed against his back. abandoned was whatever pose you had earlier, your back were straighter against his chest anyway. he held one of your legs up, spreading it enough to see the reflection of his cock jackhammering into your dripping cunt. another kept your head aside as his teeth marked your neck as his. “match t’morrow, hngh samu,” you gasped, hand up tugging on the hair on the back of his nape but it did nothing but tightened his lips against your skin that were bound to bruise. he released it with a pop, happy as he eyed the stained skin.

“so?”

“fuck you, samu.”

“right,” thrust, “back,” thrust, “at,” thrust, “ya.”

the sound of your skin slapping echoed the space, you could only whimper weakly as you surrendered to the pleasure, his pleasure. he couldn’t care less if you were trembling from high, gushing all over his cock as he powered through your orgasm. your tightened wall massaging his aching cock meant that he just had to fuck you faster and harder.

you cried in pleasure were louder, the neighbour should know his name by now.

he kissed you feverishly, lapping the marks and sweat agains your skin. nibbling on your lobe, licking beads of sweat and tears down your flushed cheeks. he knocking air out of your lung, you swore you could feel his thrusts up to your throat.

“s’good baby, fuck i could stay in yer cunt forever. why ya gotta be so fuckin’ perfect all the time. ya cunt is driving me crazy. fuck fuck, baby i wanna cum so badly. i wanna cum in you. baby ya think i can fuck ya t’morrow and ya do ya thing with cunny full of my cum. fuck baby, i wanna see my cum dripping down your legs.”

his lewd remarks kept on coming and all you could do is nod and beg because who doesn’t want a cunt full of osamu miya. every body does and here you are being the chosen one. osamu miya has few simple but sure set of obsession.

food, his restaurant, his family and every single fucking time he sees you play volleyball and your aching cunt begging for his release.

you heard the fabric of your bra ripped as he yanked it down, releasing the aching breast for his hand to grab a handful. his warm breath echoed against your cold skin, you listened to his pants, deep throaty moan as he chased his release. it was getting rougher, tip brushing against your cervix, beads of his own sweat rolling off onto your shoulder.

he whined, drool dripped over the corner of his lips, “baby.”

“fuck samu, inside please please,” you gasped, head thrown back. there were no reasoning when your husband had set his mind on one thing. he was close. his grip were tighter as if you were about to slip away, his whines were louder and his thrust weren’t easing. you couldn’t help the scream your throat let out as he cum, he was pressed down and tight against your cervix. his thrust were slower, yet sheathed deep longer. he wanted all of him in you. you were going to keep his cum inside.

his praises didn’t fall short. he showered you with kisses, telling you how much a good girl you were and how well you were taking him in. you could feel him in the shape of the bulge against your stomach. once he was down from the high, he set you down slowly on the floor, you rested your chest against his as you both tried to catch a breather.

he finally kiss you on the mouth, gently this time, caressing your cheeks and hair away from your face. in the heat of moment, saturday morning became your favourite day of the week as his lips moved to tell you how much he loved you between the kiss. you reciprocated happily, watching his soft eyes glistened in excitement and content.

the sun’s now up, warming the room, bouncing against his skin so majestically. somehow the tv had resume the show and the miya household were buzzing again. time always stop when you’re with him. you brushed his hair off his sweaty forehead. his eyes were full of love yet he always like to ruin the moment with being an ass.

“fuck, we should do yoga more,” he grinned, planting a kiss on your own forehead as you struggled to catch your breath. your mat were a soaking mess, sticking down against your bare skin as you watched the happy man wobbled happily to the kitchen with his dick swinging, staring into the fridge for some snacks.

in sickness and health, you vowed, smile on your lips grew as you laid down.

that’s your beloved husband.

sunday came like a breeze. it took a lot of running around the house and screaming as osamu chased you down bare naked, threatening to keep his promise. but you countered his threat, holding his phone with finger on speed dial he knew were gonna bring a bigger wrath down to the mankind; mama miya.

you got him out of the house, unscathed with your lover boy pouting all the way to your match.

“ya promise,” he huffed, locking the door every time you tried to escape.

your giggles echoed the car as you nodded. you leaned against him, planting a small innocent kiss against his lobe. the boy froze. “yes, samu. i’ll promise if you keep it,” your hand went down to grab the surprisingly half hard cock through his jeans, “in ya pants, i promise you, i’m all yours this week.”

his brows shot up, “anywhere?”

“anywhere, everywhere.”

“even if in at the shop?”

you tugged his ears playfully, “geez samu, as if we haven’t violated the health code of conduct the first month we got the shop set up.” you walked out together, your bag slung over his shoulder as you laced your fingers together. “on my defense, ya just started the pills and i was popping my raw dogging virginity and ya kept wearing that stupid legging that was so sheer i could see ya panties. no, half of the time ya weren’t even wearing one. you seduced me. case closed.”

you stopped right by the entrance for players only. echoes of shoes and balls bouncing, crowd cheering were getting louder and louder. this is where you had to part ways. osamu looked down on you longingly. “i’m not complaining by the way,” he pulled you closer, “don’t stop seducing me, ‘kay?” he whispered, brushing your nose against his own. you pushed his cap off, nodding happily as you shared a kiss. his onigiri miya cap sat against your head backward. the bag exchanged hands. he fixed your collar, your body ached every time his fingers brushed the bruise he left between the neck and your shoulder.

that’s the setter he fallen head over heels for.

“okay, samu. don’t let omi knows that we fucked on his favourite chair at the shop, i don’t think tsumu could hold him down. i’m too pretty to be a widow.” he mouthed a silent okay before leaning down for one more kiss, for good luck, he would said but no more words needed to be said. he flicked your forehead playfully before pulling away, heading to the entrance to meet up with your family and his brother.

“fuck them up, y/n.”

“i always do.”

© all content belongs to noritoshiikamo. do not modify or repost

[okey-do-key]

𝚃𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴

genre(s): ¿comedy?, nsfw but no smut, college!AU — all characters are 20-ish y/o

pairing(s): eventual hanamaki takahiro x reader, eventual matsukawa issei x reader, eventual hanamaki takahiro x matsukawa issei

summary: frustrated after an argument with your now-ex-fuck buddy, you find yourself asking your two best guy friends the forbidden question

content warnings: sex talk, that’s literally it, that’s the fic, reader has a few stray horny thoughts, one (1) joke about feminism, sexual tension, a lot of mentions of oral sex

word count: 2.2k

MINORS AND AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT! DO! NOT! INTERACT!

“Okay, but, do you guys think girls taste weird?”

You have no idea why you say it. Usually, you let Mattsun and Makki have their lively discussions of recent sexcapades while you listen passively. Maybe you’ll laugh at them here and poke fun at them for something silly there, or just nod along. You never pipe up and tell them about your own experiences, no matter how many times they grill you about the guys they’ve seen you with, but the past week has made you reach your breaking point. You couldn’t stop yourself.

“What?”, Makki asks as his and Mattsun’s conversation reaches a sudden halt, tilting his head at you from where he sits on the other end of the creaky old sofa in their shared apartment. “Like, your pussies?”

Heat flashes up your neck and you quickly look away from him, busying yourself with fingering at the hem of the woolen blanket you bought him and his housemate as a housewarming gift. Your pussies. He means girls’ pussies in general, you’re sure. It’s not like you have several vaginas. But it still felt oddly targeted. Then again, you’re the only one in the apartment with that anatomy, so of course it’s a little bit targeted. He sure wasn’t talking to Mattsun, at least.

Makki and Mattsun’s intense eyes seem to burn holes into your being as they both stare at you. Makki, expectantly, and Mattsun, curiously. Your mind spins as you try to focus on how to answer. “Well… yeah”, you mumble, embarrassed. You shift in your seat, pulling your knees closer to yourself.

Absolute silence fills the boys’ living room for a few seconds. You’re just about to wave your question away and say that you were just kidding, it doesn’t matter what they think and wow that was a stupid question, when Mattsun speaks up.

“Not really”, he says in his deep voice. He sits in between you and Makki, the (sometimes) calm between two storms, in the middle of the couch. One of his arms is stretched out along the back of the sofa, behind you, while he scratches lightly at the back of his neck with his other hand as if in thought. “I mean, there’s not really another taste like it. But it’s not weird, no.”

“Yeah, no other taste like it”, Makki agrees, leaning over the armrest on his end of the sofa. “I love it. It’s not weird, it’s just… purely her. I think it’s hot as fuck that everyone tastes different.”

A heat starts to boil deep in your gut at the same time as it blossoms in your cheeks. You hope they don’t notice. “R-really?”, you ask, and you internally curse yourself for stuttering.

“Yeah, really”, the strawberry blonde continues. If you look at him, you know he’ll be grinning teasingly. “Why’re you asking?”

Dread starts to mix in with the warmth in your stomach, and you shift again as you pull the blanket closer to yourself. It’s not at all cold in their apartment anymore, though. Now you only have the blanket for comfort, like a toddler who’s grown too old to have a pacifier but doesn’t want to throw it away.

“Oh, uh, no reason”, you mumble, hoping they’ll let it go.

They, of course, don't.

“Really?”, Mattsun pipes up, and you can hear the smirk that’s plastered across his stupidly handsome face as he speaks. “No reason at all that you suddenly decided to talk to us about sex after we’ve been trying to get you to open up since high school?”

Curse him and his attentiveness.

“Mhm”, you force yourself to answer. The blanket isn’t comforting anymore but suffocating, the warmth of the wool combined with your flushed embarrassment — and let’s be honest, a little bit of arousal — and the way Mattsun and Makki are looking at you makes it too hot in the living room. You tug the blanket off, throwing it at Makki. “No reason, let’s forget about it.”

Makki’s volleyball reflexes allow him to easily catch the blanket in his hands. He balls it up and shoves it in between the sofa cushions. “No reason, huh? You sure about that?”, he asks, and this time you do look at him. And, what do you know, he is grinning just as stupidly just as you thought. “Not even a little bit of a reason?”

You shift in your seat, looking away from him again, but you don’t answer.

Cold, long fingers brush against the hot back of your burning neck and you shiver almost violently in your seat as you snap your head around to look at Mattsun. He’s looking at you with his deep brown eyes, and just the way he looks at you makes you shiver again. He wets his lips with his tongue before speaking up, still gently caressing the back of your neck with his fingers. “Don’t tell me that guy you go out with tells you he won’t eat your pussy ‘cause he doesn’t like the taste.”

You swallow thickly and avoid his gaze, shaking your head. “No reason, is what I said. Let’s just forget about this whole—”

“Uuuugh, god!”, Makki cuts you off exasperatedly, making you jump slightly in your seat. “I fucking hate guys like that! They act like they’re saints for fingering their girlfriends for, like, three minutes before they fuck, but then they still expect to get sucked off every night!”, he continues, letting his head fall back against the sofa. “Fucking assholes. They’re the reason we still need feminism.”

Despite yourself, and despite the odd conversation, you can’t help but giggle at his last sentence. He’s… not exactly wrong. “I’d argue the reason we still need feminism is because of the patriarchy”, you tease, and watch as color drains from his face. “But I guess you’re right, too”, you finish as Mattsun’s gentle touch at the back of your neck moves to your hair, playing with a few loose strands. “And there are so many guys like that. Hell, I’ve never been with a guy who wasn’t like that.”

And then you remember that they’re not your girlfriends ranting about sleazy men but your childhood guy friends.

This is the first time in a long time that the three of you have managed to fit all of your schedules together since you started at different universities, different majors, different after class activities and different weekend jobs to pay the rent. They still live together, and presumably see each other every day, while you live with two girls you met in your first year in college. You swallow thickly, embarrassment eating away at you again as you, once again, pull your knees closer to yourself and shrink away from Mattsun’s hand in your corner of the sofa. “Umm, forget I said that.”

“No way I can forget that”, Makki quickly answers, and there’s a tone in his voice that you’ve never heard before.

Before you really know what’s happening, he’s flying up from his seat and kneeling on the floor in front of you while Mattsun follows you into the corner of the sofa to be able to start tracing shapes over the back of your neck again. Makki’s hands are gentle and warm as they land on the tops of your bare knees, resting there. “You’re telling me, the god of pussy-eating—”, Mattsun snorts at that and the strawberry blonde sends him a glare, “— that you’ve never been eaten out?”

You feel suddenly cornered, as if they caught you doing something bad, as if they’re about to scold you. “Uh… well… not exactly…”, you mumble, eyes flitting between Makki and Mattsun before settling on your own nails as you start to slightly pick at your cuticles, nervous. “No, I have, I just… never came from it. Max says I take too long and… that he doesn’t… like how my, uh… how I taste.”

When you look up again, Makki looks just about ready to murder your now-ex fling, and you feel the way Mattsun tenses up beside you as he momentarily stops playing with your hair.

“Tell me, how much do I need to pay you to let me kick his ass?”, Makki grumbles, hands balling into fists where they still rest on your knees.

You smile sheepishly. “Well, um, nothing. I broke it off with him this morning after we got into a really bad argument. It started out about oral, actually, but then it just sort of… spiraled… and then I told him to fuck off.”

Makki’s jaw drops while Mattsun heaves a humored sigh. “So that’s why you got into this conversation from the start”, the taller one states, his fingers tickling you behind the ear. You shiver and try to shy away from his touch, but he doesn’t let you.

Again, you’re reminded of the heat in their apartment. You’re only wearing a pair of sweatshorts, old and ratty and something you wouldn’t be caught dead in around any other creature of the male species but Makki and Mattsun, and one of their soft t-shirts with a worn print that you stole several years ago — none of you remember which one of them it originally belonged to since they usually swap t-shirts back and forth, and they stopped pestering you about giving it back a long time ago.

“Well… yes?”, you find yourself saying.

Makki’s hands unclench and grip your bare knees gently, drawing your attention back to him from Mattsun. He’s grinning up at you, and there’s a darkness in his eyes that makes your stomach flip. “So… you want us to give you an oral orgasm?”

Your jaw drops as you stare at him, wide-eyed. Admittedly, you had considered the both of them in that light, several times, over the years. Just look at them! Over six feet tall the both of them, athletic, fast and with nice features. It should be illegal to be so physically gifted. Horny teenage curiosity and more recent dry spells had led you to long nights with your hand between your thighs, imagining how one of their hands would feel in its place; or better yet both of their hands.

Their fingers are thicker, longer, than yours, so they would undoubtedly reach deeper. Stretch you wider. But how would they go about it? Would they be soft and careful? Hard and rough? Would they be different from each other?

Of course the two would be different. But how different? Would one of them be fast, the other slow? Or would it be the softness-contra-roughness that differs, rather than the pace? And let’s not get started on the question of their size. You’ve seen them lounge about in sweatpants sometimes, it doesn’t happen often, and every time you have to force your eyes up to their faces. You know it’s a stupid assumption, but they have big hands. And large shoe sizes. It’s only fair to assume that—

Mattsun’s large hand lands across the back of your neck, squeezing lightly to get your attention. It’s such a simple gesture, yet you feel like you melt into the palm of his hand. “Hiro asked you a question, sweetheart”, he mumbles right into your ear. He’s so close you can feel his breath against the side of your face. “I think he’d like an answer.”

Only then do you realize that you got lost in your own thoughts for several moments. How long? You don’t know, but you don’t dare to dwell on it. You swallow thickly, raising your gaze from where you’d zoned out while looking at Makki’s hands on your knees until you meet his eyes. He’s smirking that usual cocky smirk of his, but his eyes are swimming with something you’ve never seen in him before. His hands are warm on your knees, and you shiver in your seat as Mattsun squeezes gently at the back of your neck. They’ve literally got you cornered on their shitty old couch.

“U-um, could you repeat the question?”, you stutter out, hating the way your voice wavers and sounds so airy.

But Makki grins, squeezing your knees in his hands. “Sure thing, babe”, he says teasingly. “I asked if you wanted me and Issei to eat your pussy until you cum.”

Oh. Right. That.

Your jaw drops again and this time around, they both laugh. Not meanly, not at your expense. They just laugh lowly, and you feel like the sound makes your entire being vibrate.

“I— umm, I mean, I, hah…”, you stammer, trying to get out a complete sentence.

“Only if you want to. And it doesn’t have to be both of us, you can take your pick. Promise we won’t be mad”, Makki continues, squeezing your knees gently. “Right, Issei?”

Mattsun huffs in agreement, his palm still heavy and warm and comforting against the back of your neck. “Right”, he echoes his friend’s statement. “If you're not comfortable, neither of us want it. Don’t pressure yourself.”

Makki nods along, and starts talking about something that you only half-hear because your mind is reeling. They don’t want to pressure you. They’re waiting for your word. But the way they pose it, it’s like they expect you to say no. It’s like they’ve already given up, even though you haven’t even answered yet. Or, well, technically you have, but that embarrassing stutter of a reply you gave just a moment ago doesn’t count. Not really.

Just as Makki leans back slightly, about to get up from the floor as his hands lift from your knees, your hands dart out to grab his wrists. His eyebrows shoot up as you firmly place his hands high up on your thighs, but he still grins.

“Well, self-proclaimed god of pussy-eating”, you start off teasingly, and he rolls his eyes at you as Mattsun chuckles beside you. Makki’s eye roll is cut short as you suggestively spread your legs slightly, his gaze zeroing in on where your pussy hides beneath your bottoms. “Do your worst.”

[okey-do-key]

arcane jean design

[okey-do-key]

Jeanboy

[okey-do-key]

daily jean 82

[okey-do-key]

hi idk if ur doing requests but i would love a good aot boys headcanon , can be nsfw or j fluffy , idc :) love ur writing xoxo

⌗︙・aot boys reacting to you calling them a good boy⸜⸜・

u said good headcannons and i took that to heart

eren

erens hands caress your waist as your hips lift themselves just to fall back down on his cock. you just feel so good around him. he's so big and you can feel him deep inside of your body.

"keep doing that." he says, throwing his head back, encouraging you to ride him. you slam your hips harder on his lap, milking him. the front of your body falls on his and he wraps his hands around you.

"you're such a good boy." you whisper in his ear. you yelp when his hips do extra hard thurst.

"say that again." he demands, slowing his thrusts.

"good boy. you're doing to good." you praise him again, stroking his hair. he flips your body over, fucking into you with all he has.

"that's damn right, baby. now take it."

armin

armin warmth spreads through your back as armin slowly fucks you. he has you on your side, holding your leg while his cock hits the right spots. his hand finds your breast and he rubs your nipples, making them erect.

"you're making me feel so good, y/n." he says, kissing the side of your head. his words make you moan out, you love getting praised by him.

"keep going, 'min. keep being a good boy." you praise him back. he lets out a loud moan at your words. his fingers find your clit and he strokes it hard.

"i love you, sweetheart." he says and you can feel the smile in your voice. he pulls you closer to his body and his thrusts change to faster ones. he hits your insides deeper and you chuckle, knowing it were your words that make him go rougher.

jean

"you're being so good." he breathes out, his hips fucking into you in rough speed. your body shakes with his powerful thrusts and you can feel him in your whole body. he looks so pretty, looking down at you getting fucked with his cock. jean's hands slither round your neck, applying small amount of pressure.

"keep... fucking me. good... boy." you squeak out, jean's hand making your speech limited. his thrusts stop at your words.

"what did you say?" he asks, looking at you with wide eyes.

"good boy." you repeat your words. he smiles down at you, his thrusts continuing again. he pulls his body close to your, kissing you before hitting your insides again.

"and you're my good girl. just a little more, sweetheart. just take it."

[okey-do-key]

Jean supremacy 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

[okey-do-key]

i just woke up from a nap and dreamt I'd come to you and ask for lovestruck jean. that's all thank you very much have a fantastic day.

you too (nap more often)

daily jean 65

[okey-do-key]

Levi x fem!reader, period comfort ? 🙏🏼

Slow Down

Your line of duty had always been and would continue to be stressful on a good day; you’d accepted this the moment you graduated training. Between the piling responsibilities assigned to your rank and the many comrades you’d befriended over the years, you were certainly kept on your feet. But on days like today, when your body ached and your mind raced, the work was nearly too much to handle alone. Thankfully this time, you wouldn’t have to be.

Pairing: Levi x AFAB!reader (addressed as y/n, so feel free to chose for yourself how you’d like to view reader!)

Warnings: Descriptions of menstrual cycle, disassociation, sensory overload, mental stress/anxiety, comfort fluff.

A/N: I have an old fic done on this here, but since I was experiencing a 2 week early cycle myself when I received this ask and wanted to die, and by the time I finished this ask I had another early cycle and currently wanna die, I’ll happily do another one! If anything doesn’t match your preferences, I’ll happily re-write to better fit your ideas! Also I apologize for the very very long wait! I hope you’re still around to see it finished! Also to make up for this, this is a 1.5k word count fic lol.

Everything was a disaster. One thing after another prevented you from merely sitting, from processing the reality of the day thus far and depriving you a moment's sanctuary from the ache settles deep within the muscles of your poor lower back.

A favor here, a chore there; documents to sign, errands to be run, a squad to manage and train, voices of many a scout far too loud for your liking echoing off the walls and muddling your racing mind, preventing comprehension to a single thought you had...It was nearly too much to bear, on such a day as this.

There was a fine line between being a people pleaser unnecessarily, and simply being helpful towards others you held dear or at least within respectable regard to complete what needed done around HQ on such a busy day; and you walked that line very finely indeed today.

How could you say no to Hange's pleas for a favor to run into town on their behalf when they looked frazzled amidst their own responsibilities?

And how could you go against an order from Commander Erwin himself to sort through the armful of cadet's profiles he had on his desk before the night was up, to help lessen his own load?

Of course you'd help them, on top of your already assigned duties, all at the expense of any free time you'd needed to rest a moment...It was fine, was it not?

So here you were, one arm clutching leather bound booklets to your chest, a bag in the other hand hanging limply in your grasp, a pen long forgotten tucked behind your ear discarded there for safe keeping after signing off for deliveries, and a single boot nearly fully untied dragging the floor for each hurried step you took down hall after hall. You were a mess, you had to have known. But still you kept on.

Though all the while your back ached, and your abdomen tensed in immense protest every few minuets you dared forget about your distresses. Every step you took only vividly reminded you of your need to go change, to clean up and try again with a ‘'fresh' start if you will. But you knew these tasks at hand were more important than your personal comfort. But was it worth your waning sanity?

For every delivery of parchment or perhaps a document form, passing from one shaking hand to another, left you more exhausted than the hand off previous. Every step demanded a rest, yet ever you mind protested such an idea. How could your mind not? But you mustn't falter now, despite the aches it brought upon you, less you deem yourself a 'failure' of sorts. And above all else, you couldn't have that, could you?

That thought echoed the loudest in your mind, nearly as overbearing as the sights and sounds around you shortening your breath. Surely you were over exaggerating to yourself. The pains could be ignored, and the glazed look to your eyes wasn't noticeable to anyone glancing your way. If you told yourself that enough times, you'd eventually believe it to be true and not think of it anymore, right? You weren't failing simple tasks by needing a break if you never took one.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out, only worsening the way your skin seemed to itch and your lungs seemed to constrict for every noise that added itself to the fray of chaos that was your mind.

Halting in your tracks, you let the man catch up to you in the hall.

"There you are, we'd been looking for you!" He panted, leaning an arm against the wall.

"We?" You murmured back wearily.

"A couple of the Captains and I, yes...Anyways, we needed one of the documents before you handed it off to Commander. It needs another signature we miscounted for before handing it off to you." He explained with a shrug.

Shifting through the leather bound books and documents in your arms, you felt ready to collapse. Didn't you have enough going on?

"It's here somewhere just...One moment...It's been a day..."

"Oh, and Section Commander Hange needs those items from town soon. I ran into them a moment ago and they asked-"

"I'll get there, I promise, I just need a moment.” You cut him off, breathing abnormally heavily through flashes of pain and fatigue. Though such a simple ask, you felt this might just be your undoing.

He looked surprised for a moment, opening his mouth as if to add on another mind numbing task. But his look of surprise couldn’t match yours when a door behind you opened and a hand reached out to clasp onto your slouched shoulder.

Biting back a yelp, you turned to face the culprit right as he spoke.

“She’s had enough for now. Take what you need for Shitty-Glasses and Eyebrows; Y/N’s busy with me now.”

Stunned, the man saluted to Captain Levi and gently took the file he had been looking for and the bag from your arms, soon enough scurrying off.

Feeling a bit dazed yourself, you felt Levi’s hand on your shoulder lightly tug you into the direction of his office.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir. I got so caught up in responsibilities- I didn’t mean to make a commotion outside your door-“ You started, only to be met with his door closing softly behind you and a pale hand raised for silence.

"I can assure you, whatever it is you're rambling on about, it's fine." Levi grumbled, moving to lean on the lip of his desk with folded arms across his chest.

"You're a mess...Just how long do you plan to keep up the look of vague shit smell on your face?"

"Dunno...Till I feel better?" You sighed and set what was left in your arms onto a cleared surface nearby to let your arms relax.

Backing up a step from the desk, Levi narrowed his gaze

"You contagious?"

"Not sick," You huffed in defeat. But before you could begin to explain, he was off again.

"What, irritable bowel syndrome then? You're hunched over like you’re in pain."

Though at first you raised a brow inquisitively, you eventually found yourself snickering quietly, a hand coming up instinctively to your abdomen as the movement caused some sharp aches and pains. Leave it to Levi to resort to shit jokes.

"...No, just tired...hurting a little….Menstrual cycle, exhaustion, got overwhelmed…It’s fine.”

Levi merely grunted in absentminded response as he meandered back over to his desk. But he watched you in a way that made you question; had you miffed him? Distracted him from whatever work he’d been chipping away at?

The anxiety on top of it all only made your chest constrict further.

“I'm confused; what did you pull me in here for? Did you need something?"

Looking back up to meet your gaze, Levi raised a curious brow.

"No, I don't need anything. Though if anything, I needed you to quit worrying. It won't increase the quantity or quality of your tasks." He grumbled, looking over your disheveled appearance.

“And you need to slow down. Take a break, sit down…Can’t imagine what pain you’re in, but no one can go on forever like this.”

Stunned, you merely stood there staring for a moment watching him, in which time he sighed and gestured over to a small couch in his office.

"Sit. Get those belts off. I've heard caffeine can sometimes help with...cramps, and stuff. I'll brew some tea if you get off your damned feet."

Slowly you sat onto the couch in the corner of his office, wincing slightly in pain as you adjusted to a better position to lessen the aches in your abdomen.

“Why? Why are you…Why do you care about getting me tea and making me rest?”

You found yourself mumbling, unable to keep the thoughts bouncing through your head from slipping out. Levi was silent as he stood from his desk, setting down his pen and loosening the collar of his shirt.

You thought maybe he might just leave without a response; reapers through the office door with a couple cups of tea just as silently as he’d left. But he hesitated in putting his palm on the door’s handle, glancing over his shoulder at where you’d curled yourself up and attempted to slip off your boots.

“If you won’t take care of yourself, then someone has to. I’d rather that be me, if it’s all the same to you.”

Before long you found yourself with a blanket over your lap and a steaming mug of tea in your hands, feeling much more yourself without the anxieties and stresses pulling you this way and that. Levi had abandoned his work for a time, choosing to sit on the other side of the couch with his own teacup in hand.

‘To keep an eye on you in case you pass out.’ He’d stated when you inquired. Though with how easily he chatted with you during that time of rest, you couldn’t help but feel as though maybe he’d wanted an excuse to sit and talk over tea. Maybe the ghost of a smile on his face meant he enjoyed your company, as much as you enjoyed his.