#Miya Osamu x reader

[pin-k-ink]

miya osamu who is possessive. he makes sure you know you're his. grabby in public, hand on your back, your waist, fingers in your pussy on public transport. i feel like he's the kinda guy to apologize when he's going to rough, when he's hurting you, but he just can't help it. probably has a breeding kink and just wants to stuff you so full

axiom // miya osamu

tw ⇢ possessive!osamu, jealous!osamu, lots of pda, public sex, fingering, begging, asphyxiation, breeding, multiple rounds, creampie, unprotected sex, one spank, overstimulation, name calling, praise kink (receiving), marking, getting caught

wc ⇢ 7.7k

a/n: spent all night writing this for you, nonnie. god, i wanna marry samu so bad

The familiar bustle of Onigiri Miya surrounded you as you tended to the last customer of the day. The aroma of freshly cooked rice and savory fillings filled the air, but beneath the comforting scents, an undercurrent of tension emanated from your boyfriend. Though Osamu tried to maintain a casual demeanor, leaning against the counter with an air of nonchalance, you couldn't help but notice the subtle signs of his mounting frustration.

The way his hand curled into a tight fist, knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. The rhythmic throbbing of the vein in his neck, pulsing in time with his accelerated heartbeat. The clenching of his chiseled jaw, the muscles flexing beneath his tanned skin. Even the aggressive tapping of his foot against the tiled floor betrayed his inner turmoil, each staccato beat echoing in the space between you.

Your own heart raced with a potent mix of concern and confusion. What had triggered this sudden change in Osamu's usually calm, patient demeanor? It was a rarity to see him so visibly agitated, his composure cracking under the weight of an unknown pressure. As the customer finally took their leave, you allowed your gaze to wander around the shop, seeking answers in the familiar surroundings.

That's when your eyes met Atsumu's. He sat at a nearby table, his long fingers absently tapping against the polished mahogany surface, a pensive expression etched onto his handsome features. The moment your gazes locked, however, his eyes widened momentarily, a flicker of recognition sparking within their depths. Then, just as quickly, his lips curled into a knowing smirk, as if he held the key to a secret you had yet to find out.

The unease that had been simmering in your gut intensified, a sense of foreboding washing over you like a chilling wave. What did Atsumu know that you didn't? Before you could dwell on the question further, a pair of strong, familiar arms coiled around your waist, pulling you flush against the solid warmth of Osamu's chest.

The sudden contact sent a shiver racing down your spine, your breath catching in your throat at the unexpected intimacy. "'Samu? What's—"

"The back. Now." His voice was low and clipped, each word laced with an authority that left no room for argument. The warning squeeze of his fingers against your hip only served to emphasize the urgency of his demand.

Waves of apprehension crashed over you as you processed his words, your mind reeling with the implications. Osamu was undeniably angry—that much was clear from the tension radiating off him in palpable waves. But the reason behind his ire eluded you.

With a hesitant nod, you released yourself from his embrace and began to make your way towards the storage room at the back of the shop. Each step felt heavy, as if your feet were encased in concrete, your mind spinning with a whirlwind of possibilities. What had you done to incite such a reaction from your usually level-headed boyfriend?

Time seemed to stretch on indefinitely as you waited anxiously in the small, musty confines of the storage room. The air was thick with the mingled scents of dried goods and cleaning supplies, the shelves looming overhead like silent sentinels. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, a frantic bird desperate to escape its bony prison.

When the door finally creaked open, signaling Osamu's arrival, your breath lodged in your throat, your pulse skyrocketing with a heady mix of anticipation and trepidation. You barely had a chance to utter a word, to form a coherent thought, before he was upon you, his lips claiming yours in a searing, possessive kiss.

His hands gripped your hips with a bruising force, fingers digging into the pliant flesh as he pulled you impossibly closer, erasing any lingering distance between your bodies. A soft, involuntary moan escaped your parted lips, muffled by the insistent press of his mouth against yours. Your own hands rose to clutch at his broad shoulders, fingernails scraping against the fabric of his shirt as you surrendered to the intensity of his kiss.

The heat of his body, the unyielding pressure of his lips, sent desire coursing through your veins like molten lava, igniting a fire in your core that threatened to consume you whole. Just as quickly as it began, however, Osamu abruptly tore his mouth away, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

"What was his name?" he demanded, his voice rough and low, his stormy eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

"Wh-what?" you managed to stammer, your mind still hazy from the intoxicating kiss, struggling to make sense of his sudden question.

"That last customer, what was his name?" Osamu repeated, an edge of impatience creeping into his tone, his words laced with a subtle growl.

You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog of desire that clouded your thoughts, attempting to grasp the significance of his inquiry. "Keisuke. Why?"

Something dark and primal flickered in the gunmetal depths of Osamu's eyes, a possessiveness that sent a delicious thrill racing down your spine. He reached for you once more, his large hand splaying across the small of your back, pressing your body flush against the hard planes of his chest. "So you remember his name?"

"What the—"

Your words were cut off by Osamu's exasperated sigh as he released you roughly, causing you to stumble back a step, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribcage. Any retort you might have mustered died on your tongue as you watched him reach for his belt, his intentions unmistakable in the purposeful movements of his fingers.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a sinful promise, dripping with dark intentions that made your core clench with anticipation. "By the time we're done, you won't even remember what he looked like. Now, why don't you bend over f’me?"

There was a certain smugness in the way he spoke, as if he knew he'd already won. And the worst part was, deep down, you knew he was right. Because as you bent over, ass up, ready to take him, all thoughts of the nameless customer were wiped from your mind. The only name that mattered was Osamu's, and by the time he was done with you, you'd be screaming it loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

As his name spilled from your lips, tinged with a mix of reverence and desire, you knew you were lost. But as his fingers slipped between your thighs, brushing against the heated flesh, sending pleasure rippling through your core, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"Fuck, you're already soaked, sweetheart," Osamu groaned, his thumb rubbing slow, torturous circles around your clit.

"I'm not the only one," you gasped, arching your back and pressing against his hard length, trapped inside his jeans.

"Oh yeah? And who's fault is that, huh?" he murmured, swiftly turning you around to face him, the tip of his nose grazing along your jaw, his warm breath fanning over your ear.

"Yours," you replied breathlessly, your own hands fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

He chuckled, a low, husky sound that sent shivers down your spine, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck. "Damn right it's mine."

You could feel his smile against your skin, and despite the haze of lust that clouded your mind, you couldn't help but grin. He was arrogant, but he had every right to be. He was the one who'd managed to make you this wet, after all.

With practiced ease, he slid your panties down, letting them fall to the floor in a silken puddle. Then, without warning, his fingers were inside you, curling and pumping with a rhythm that had your knees buckling.

"Fuck, 'Samu," you whimpered, your nails digging into the soft flesh of his bicep, leaving behind faint crescent-shaped indents.

"That's it, sweetheart," he breathed, his other hand tangling in your hair, tugging your head back until your eyes met his. "Let me hear how much you love this."

You could only moan in response, his fingers working their magic inside you, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. Your own hands continued to work on freeing his cock, a task made more difficult by the distracting waves of pleasure radiating through your body. But, after what felt like an eternity, you managed to release him from his confines, your fingers wrapping around his thick shaft, stroking him with a pace that matched his own.

His fingers sped up, the slick sounds of your combined pleasure filling the air, a lewd melody that only served to heighten the intensity of your impending release. You could feel the tension building inside you, like a coil wound too tight, ready to snap at any moment.

And when it did, it was with a ferocity that left you shaking in his arms.

Osamu's fingers worked you through your orgasm, drawing out every last drop of pleasure before pulling out. You barely had a moment to recover before his cock was sliding between your folds, coating himself with your juices.

"Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you," he groaned, his voice strained with desire, the heat of his words sending a fresh wave of arousal through your body.

"Then do it," you challenged, your eyes locking with his, a playful glint in their depths. "Stop teasing me."

His lips curved into a smirk, his hand trailing down the curve of your spine, before landing a sharp smack against your ass. The unexpected sting only fueled your desire, a gasp slipping past your lips.

"Patience, sweetheart," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

With agonizing slowness, he slid inside you, his cock stretching and filling you to the brim.

You couldn't help but moan, the sensation of being filled by him sending a rush of ecstasy through your veins. He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size, before beginning to move.

His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one eliciting a breathless moan from you. The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, coupled with the friction of his pelvis against your clit, was enough to send you spiraling into another mind-blowing orgasm.

"Yes, that's it, sweetheart, come for me," he growled, his own pleasure evident in his voice, the rhythmic clenching of your walls around his shaft.

As the waves of bliss began to recede, you could feel him picking up his pace, his thrusts becoming more erratic, chasing his own release. His fingers dug into your hips, the bite of his nails against your skin, only serving to intensify the pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Come on, 'Samu, fill me up," you urged, your voice barely above a whisper, a breathless plea.

"Fuck," he groaned, his grip tightening almost painfully, the tension of his impending release coiling through his body.

And with a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside you, his hot cum painting your walls. The sensation pushed you over the edge once more, your own release tearing through you with an intensity that left you trembling and breathless.

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled out, leaving you feeling suddenly empty. Before you had a chance to recover, however, he was capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, the taste of him mingling with the sweet flavors of his food.

"What brought this on?" you asked breathlessly, once he'd finally released you. He smirked, his eyes full of mischief. "Can't a man want to fuck his girlfriend without having to justify it?"

"You're unbelievable," you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"You love it," he teased, pulling you closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "And I'm not finished with you yet."

Realization crashed over you like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from your lungs and sending your pulse into overdrive. Osamu was jealous. The man renowned for his unwavering patience, the one who had endured countless incidents of his brother's shameless flirting and innumerable customers vying for your attention, had finally reached his breaking point.

A thrill raced through you at the thought, your skin prickling with a heady mix of excitement and apprehension. Osamu had always been an attentive, passionate lover, his touch igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing day. But you knew that beneath the surface, he kept his darker desires locked away, a carefully maintained restraint that never fully unleashed the depth of his hunger for you.

Now, it seemed, that fragile control had shattered. From that moment on, everything shifted, the very fabric of your relationship rewoven with the threads of Osamu's all-consuming possessiveness.

Gone were the days of working the front counter, of engaging in friendly banter with the customers who frequented Onigiri Miya. Osamu's jealousy knew no bounds, his need to stake his claim on you overriding any semblance of professional decorum. Each night, he would pull you into the back room, his hands roaming your body with a desperate urgency, his lips marking your skin with bruising kisses that served as a reminder of who you belonged to.

At first, the intensity of his passion was exhilarating, a heady rush that left you craving more. The way he claimed you, the force of his touch, the raw hunger in his eyes—it all combined to create a potent mix of desire that coursed through your veins, setting your nerves ablaze with an insatiable need.

But as time wore on, the cracks in the foundation of your relationship began to show, Osamu's jealousy bleeding into every aspect of your daily life like an insidious poison.

It started with small gestures in public, seemingly innocent displays of affection that belied a deeper, more primal urge. The way his fingers would intertwine with yours, his grip just a little too tight, a silent declaration of ownership. The way he would bring your joined hands to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles, his eyes daring anyone to challenge his claim on you. The way he would pull you close, his arm a heavy, reassuring weight across your shoulders, a tangible barrier between you and the rest of the world.

But as the days turned into weeks, Osamu's actions grew bolder, more brazen in their possessiveness. It was as if he needed to constantly remind the world that you were his and his alone, consequences be damned.

One particularly memorable incident occurred outside the shop, as you waited for Osamu to join you for your anniversary date. The evening air was crisp and cool, the stars twinkling overhead like diamonds scattered across a velvet sky. A group of teenagers loitered nearby, their laughter and chatter filling the night with a youthful exuberance.

You paid them no mind, lost in your own thoughts as you anticipated the romantic evening ahead. That is, until one of the boys broke away from the group, sauntering towards you with a cocky grin plastered across his face, his eyes alight with a boldness born of teenage bravado.

"Hey, lady—"

The words had barely left his mouth when Osamu appeared at your side, his arm snaking around your waist in a clear display of possession. His grip was iron-clad, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hip, a silent warning to anyone who dared to encroach on his territory.

"She's taken. Fuck off." His voice was a menacing growl, low and guttural, laced with a palpable threat that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes, normally a warm, inviting shade of gray, had hardened into chips of ice, narrowed in a withering glare that could have frozen the very marrow in the unfortunate teenager's bones.

The boy, to his credit, had the good sense to retreat, scurrying back to the safety of his friends with his tail tucked firmly between his legs. Osamu's chest puffed out in satisfaction, a primal display of dominance that sent a thrill racing through your veins. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering against your hair, a silent affirmation of his love and protection.

From that moment on, Osamu's public displays of affection only escalated, each one more daring than the last. At a dinner with Atsumu and his teammates, he kept you wedged firmly between his solid form and his brother's, a human shield against any unwanted advances. His hand rested possessively on your thigh beneath the table, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin, a private claiming that set your nerves alight.

When the waiter had the audacity to openly flirt with you, going so far as to ask for your number in front of the entire table, a tense silence descended upon the group. Forks paused midway to mouths, eyes darting between you, Osamu, and the oblivious server, a collective breath held in anticipation of the impending fallout.

To everyone's surprise, Osamu remained outwardly calm, his expression betraying no hint of the storm brewing beneath the surface. He allowed you to politely decline the waiter's advances, your words measured and diplomatic, even as your heart raced with a mix of discomfort and irritation.

The waiter, however, seemed determined to push his luck, his eyes lingering on your face, his smile just a touch too friendly, his words laced with a suggestive undertone that made your skin crawl. Atsumu, ever the protective brother, was about to intervene, his patience wearing thin in the face of the waiter's persistence.

But before he could utter a word, Osamu cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the tension like a knife through butter. "Oh, I need to go and close up shop. I'll see you home, honey."

With that, he reached out, his hand cupping the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in the soft strands of your hair. He pulled you in close, his lips claiming yours in a deep, possessive kiss that stole the breath from your lungs and sent your heart into overdrive.

He made a show of it, his tongue delving into the warm cavern of your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, a soft moan of pleasure rumbling in his chest. When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless and flushed, your lips swollen from the force of his kiss.

The waiter, thoroughly humiliated, could only stand there, his mouth agape, his cheeks stained a deep crimson. Osamu, for his part, merely smirked, a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he slowly walked out of the restaurant.

In the days that followed, Osamu's possessiveness seemed to level off, the tension in his body easing, the constant need to hover at your side diminishing. But his desire to touch you, to stake his claim on your body and soul, remained as insatiable as ever.

One particularly memorable incident occurred on a crowded train, your bodies pressed flush against each other in the cramped confines of the carriage. The gentle sway of the train, the rhythmic clacking of the wheels against the tracks, created a hypnotic backdrop to the charged atmosphere between you.

You felt the ghost of Osamu's touch on the back of your thigh, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin, sending a jolt of electricity racing up your spine. You gasped, your eyes widening as you looked up at him, a silent question in your gaze.

Osamu merely smiled, the curve of his lips soft and affectionate, his eyes alight with a mischievous glint. He leaned down, his nose nuzzling against yours in a tender gesture that belied the heat simmering just beneath the surface.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered, his breath fanning across your face, his words a sinful promise that made your core clench with anticipation. "You just look so irresistible today. I can't keep my hands off of you."

As he spoke, his fingers inched higher, grazing the lace edge of your panties, a teasing touch that set your nerve endings ablaze. Your heart raced, a potent cocktail of excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins, your skin prickling with a heady mix of desire and apprehension.

Osamu's hands were blatantly beneath your skirt now, his fingers kneading the soft flesh of your rear, his touch bold and unapologetic. If the train hadn't been so crowded, your intimate moment would have been on display for all to see, a public claiming that sent a thrill racing down your spine. But Osamu showed no signs of stopping, his lips peppering your face with tender kisses, his touch growing more insistent with each passing second.

The feeling of being desired, of being wanted so fiercely by the man you loved, was intoxicating. The thrill of potentially getting caught only heightened the experience, sending a flood of heat pooling between your thighs.

You leaned into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you pressed yourself closer to his firm, muscular body. Your hand gripped his bicep, your nails digging into the smooth skin, a silent plea for more.

"Osamu, please..."

The soft, breathless whisper was enough to shatter the last vestiges of his self-control. He kissed you deeply, his tongue delving into the warm cavern of your mouth, a sinful, desperate melding of lips and teeth and tongue.

His hands roamed your body with a fervent urgency, mapping every curve and plane with an intimate familiarity, as if committing each inch of your skin to memory. His touch was a branding, a burning mark of possession, his desire a blazing inferno that threatened to consume you both.

You clung to him, your fingers grasping at his shirt, the fabric clenched tightly between trembling digits, as you tried to ground yourself amidst the tumultuous storm of emotions. Your heart raced, a deafening crescendo pounding in your ears, the very air around you charged with the electric energy of your passion.

Osamu's lips traced a heated path along your jaw, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin, his tongue laving the tiny bite marks, soothing the sting with his gentle ministrations.

"Mine," he breathed, the word a reverent, possessive murmur against your ear, a secret only you were privy to. "All mine."

His hands roamed the supple curve of your ass, his fingers squeezing the pliant flesh, a groan of appreciation rumbling in his chest.

"Fuck, baby, I want you so bad."

His voice was a low, husky rumble, laced with an aching need that made your pussy clench, the heat between your thighs nearly unbearable.

"I want to fuck you right here, in front of everyone, so they know you're mine."

You could feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against you, a tangible proof of his desire, the heady scent of his cologne enveloping you like a cloud. You swallowed thickly, your lips parted in a silent moan, a heady mix of pleasure and fear coursing through your veins.

"God, Samu, please..."

Your words trailed off, your voice a breathless, desperate whisper, as Osamu's hands found their way between your thighs. His fingers grazed the damp fabric of your panties, the feather-light touch eliciting a gasp from you, the sound drowned out by the clamor of the train.

"Fuck, baby, you're so wet for me." His words were a sultry growl, laced with a dark, primal hunger, the sound sending a shiver of desire racing down your spine.

Your mind was hazy, the sensations overwhelming, your body thrumming with a desperate, aching need. Your hips bucked against his hand, a silent plea for more, a plea he was only too happy to oblige.

"That's it, baby, let me take care of you." His fingers slipped beneath the thin, silky fabric of your panties, his thumb brushing against the slick, sensitive bud of your clit, a teasing touch that sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through your body. You bit back a moan, your teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your lower lip, the faint metallic taste of blood mingling with the sweet, salty taste of Osamu's kisses.

His fingers slid along your dripping folds, the sensation almost unbearably intense, the sound of his voice, a low, sultry murmur, drowning out the chaos around you. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart, don't worry."

With that, his fingers plunged inside you, his deft digits stretching you in the most delicious way, a welcome intrusion that made your core clench, a choked whimper escaping your lips.

You clung to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck, the smell of his cologne a heady, intoxicating scent.

Your hips rocked against his hand, a slow, steady rhythm that matched the sway of the train, the friction creating a delicious, aching friction that threatened to send you over the edge.

"Samu, please, I need you," you whispered, your words a breathless, desperate plea, your core clenching around his fingers.

Osamu chuckled, the sound a dark, seductive rumble, the low timbre vibrating through your body. His lips brushed against your ear, his breath fanning against your heated skin, a sensual, forbidden promise. "Don't worry, sweetheart, l'm gonna give you everything you need."

As he spoke, his fingers moved deeper within you, the pads of his digits brushing against the bundle of nerves hidden within your walls, a spot he knew all too well. He increased the pressure, the movements of his fingers unrelenting, the pace building, a slow, torturous crescendo.

The sensations were overwhelming, the pleasure bordering on pain, the air in your lungs burning, the muscles of your thighs quivering, the heat coiling deep within you reaching a fever pitch. You could feel the tears stinging your eyes, the words slipping from your lips a frantic, broken mantra.

"Please, please, please, Samu, please."

"Come for me, sweetheart," he growled, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, passionate kiss, his tongue plunging into the warm cavern of your mouth, a deep, carnal melding of lips and teeth and tongue. His fingers were a relentless piston within you, the sensations pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, a tsunami of pleasure coursing through your veins, the intensity making your knees buckle, your fingers digging into the solid muscles of his biceps. You could feel his smirk against your lips, the smug, satisfied curve of his mouth only adding to the overwhelming sensations.

He slowed his movements, the pace languid and unhurried, drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible, the soft, teasing caresses making your toes curl, a shuddering aftershock rippling through your body. He kissed you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours, his lips lingering against yours, a soft, loving press, before slowly pulling away.

His eyes were hooded, the gray orbs a stormy, smoky shade, his pupils blown wide with desire. His lips were slightly swollen, a rosy pink from the fervent nature of his kisses, the curve of his smile a tender, adoring expression.

"God, I love you," he murmured, his voice a reverent whisper, a sacred declaration.

You could feel the blush blooming across your cheeks, a rosy, flustered flush that made him chuckle. His thumb gently wiped away the stray tear that had slipped from your eye, his touch a reassuring, steadying caress.

He pressed one last, lingering kiss to your lips before carefully extracting his hand from between your thighs. You watched, mesmerized, as he brought his fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out, a sly, teasing lick, his eyes never leaving yours.

"God, baby, you taste so good," he murmured, the words a low, husky rumble, his voice laced with a dark, sensual undercurrent.

"I could eat you all day."

You shuddered, a fresh wave of desire coursing through your veins, the very image a visceral, erotic fantasy come to life. But before you could respond, the train screeched to a halt, the automated voice announcing your stop, the sudden cacophony of voices and movement jolting you back to reality.

You hastily smoothed down your clothes, your hands frantically straightening your skirt, a vain attempt to hide the evidence of your passion. Your hair was a mess, the once carefully styled strands now tousled and tangled, a disheveled testament to the fervent nature of Osamu's affections.

By the time you reached your stop, your body was thrumming with a desperate need, your core aching for the relief that only his cock could provide.

As he led you off the train, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, your mind swirled with a dizzying array of emotions. The intensity of Osamu's love, his unyielding desire to claim you as his own, was both thrilling and overwhelming, a force of nature that threatened to consume you whole.

The moment you crossed the threshold of Osamu's house, the air between you crackled with a palpable tension, a desperate hunger that could no longer be denied. With a growl of impatience, Osamu's strong hand encircled your wrist, his grip firm and unyielding as he tugged you towards the bedroom, his movements fueled by a primal urgency that set your blood ablaze.

The door swung open with a bang, the sound echoing through the quiet house like a gunshot, but neither of you paid it any mind. Osamu's focus was solely on you, his stormy gray eyes darkened with a lust that stole the breath from your lungs and sent your heart into a frenzy.

In a tangle of limbs and gasping breaths, you tumbled onto the bed, the soft mattress yielding beneath your weight. Osamu wasted no time in climbing over you, his body a solid, comforting weight that pressed you into the plush comforter. His legs straddled your hips, his knees bracketing your thighs, keeping you pinned in place, a willing captive to his desire.

Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, your skin prickling with anticipation as Osamu lowered his head, his lips seeking yours in a bruising kiss that stole the air from your lungs. The press of his mouth was demanding, his tongue delving past your parted lips to tangle with yours in a sensual dance that set your nerve endings ablaze.

His hands roamed your body with a desperate urgency, his fingers skimming over the curves and planes of your form, mapping every inch of your skin as if committing it to memory. Each touch, each caress, each scrape of his blunt nails against your flesh sent bolts of electricity racing through your veins, igniting a fire in your core that threatened to consume you whole.

You arched into him, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his back as you surrendered to the onslaught of sensations that assaulted your senses. The scent of him, a heady mix of sandalwood and musk, filled your nostrils, intoxicating you with its potency.

The taste of him, a tantalizing blend of mint and spice, lingered on your tongue, leaving you wanting more. The feel of him, his skin burning hot against your own, his muscles flexing beneath your palms, was almost too much to bear.

You were drowning in him, consumed by his love and desire, and you never wanted it to end.

With a groan, he tore his lips from yours, his gaze raking over your flushed features, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. "Mine," he breathed, the word a low, possessive growl that rumbled deep in his chest. "Mine to fuck. Mine to breed."

The promise of his words, the raw, visceral need in his voice, sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Your body responded to him instinctively, your thighs parting to allow him access, your core aching with an emptiness that only he could fill.

You were his. And you always would be.

A feral grin spread across Osamu's face, his canines glinting in the low light as he pushed your skirt up, his fingers brushing against the damp lace of your panties. "Look at you, so wet and ready for me," he murmured, his tone laced with a mixture of pride and satisfaction.

"Your body knows who it belongs to, doesn't it?"

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response, the anticipation of what was to come rendering you speechless.

Osamu leaned down, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Tell me. Tell me who you belong to."

"Y-you," you stammered, your breath hitching in your throat. "I belong to you, Osamu."

He let out a low rumble of approval, his teeth nipping at your earlobe before he pulled away, his eyes locking with yours. "That's right," he murmured, his voice heavy with desire. "And I'm going to remind you of that, over and over again. I'm going to fill you with my seed until there's no doubt in your mind who you belong to."

Osamu shifted, his knees pushing your thighs wider apart as he settled between your legs, his erection straining against the confines of his pants. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the promise of what was to come making your pulse race and your stomach flutter.

You were desperate for him, aching for the pleasure only he could give you. But before you could reach for him, he grasped your wrists in his hand, pinning them above your head, his grip rough and commanding.

"Stay still," he commanded, his free hand tracing a slow path down your chest, his fingers skimming over the curve of your breast before cupping the mound, his thumb grazing over the taut peak of your nipple.

The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through your body, your back arching off the mattress, a needy moan slipping past your lips.

"Patience," he chided, his touch featherlight as he continued to tease your sensitive bud, his dark gaze drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Arousal pooled between your thighs, the dampness of your panties betraying your desperation.

"So eager," he mused, his fingers pinching your nipple, the sudden burst of pain mixing with pleasure. "But we're just getting started."

Osamu released your wrists, his hand trailing down your stomach, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. He dipped lower, his digits finding your slick entrance, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves with a slow, deliberate stroke.

Your hips bucked against his touch, your need for release becoming unbearable, but Osamu held you in place, his fingers circling your clit with a torturous slowness that made you squirm.

"Please," you begged, your voice breathless and needy. "Please, Osamu. I need you."

"I know," he replied, his tone husky with lust.

"I need you too. I need to fill you with my cum, to breed you like the good little girl you are."

Arousal trickled down your thighs as his fingers stroked your folds, his touch alternating between rough and gentle, his movements designed to push you closer and closer to the edge.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your skin burning with a feverish heat as you teetered on the precipice of orgasm. But just as you were about to fall over the edge, Osamu pulled his hand away, his fingers glistening with your juices.

"Not yet," he murmured, his gaze darkening as he brought his fingers to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the sticky-sweet liquid from his digits. "I want to savor this."

He pressed his hips against yours, the hard length of his cock straining against the confines of his trousers, the friction sending a shockwave of pleasure through your core.

You could feel the urgency in his touch, the desire coursing through his veins mirroring your own. His desire to claim you, to mark you as his, was undeniable, his need for you almost feral in its intensity.

As his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, tugging the damp fabric down your thighs, his breath fanned against your neck, his teeth grazing the delicate skin. "I'm going to breed you. Going to fill your pretty little pussy with my cum, over and over again, until your womb is filled to the brim. I'm going to breed you, and you're going to beg me for it."

The sound of his zipper, followed by the rustle of fabric, sent a thrill of anticipation through your body, your core clenching with need.

Osamu gripped your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he lined his cock up with your dripping entrance.

"This is mine," he growled, his voice laced with possessive hunger as he pressed into you, his cock stretching your walls with a delicious friction that sent a ripple of pleasure through your body. "And I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."

You clung to him, your nails raking across his back as he buried himself inside you, his girth filling you completely. His thrusts were hard and deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit, the pressure building with each passing second.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your eyes locked with his as he fucked you with a ferocious passion, his hips slamming into yours, his cock reaching places that made you see stars.

Your moans mingled with his, the sounds of pleasure filling the air, the two of you lost in a primal dance of ecstasy.

The feeling of him, his thick shaft pulsing inside you, his breath hot against your neck, was almost too much to bear. But just as the familiar tension coiled low in your abdomen, just as the pressure threatened to overwhelm you, Osamu pulled out, leaving you teetering on the brink of release.

"Not yet," he growled, his gaze dark and wild as he flipped you onto your stomach, his hand gripping your hips, pulling you towards him.

Your fingers curled around the sheets, a moan slipping past your lips as his cock teased your entrance, his tip barely grazing your folds.

"I'm not done with you yet," he murmured, his voice laced with desire as he plunged into you, his pace frantic and demanding.

Your walls clenched around him, your body shuddering with each thrust, his name tumbling from your lips in a breathless cry.

"That's it, sweetheart. Take it. Take my cock," he growled, his hand snaking around your throat, pulling you flush against his chest, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "I'm going to breed you like the little cumdumpster you are. I'm going to fill you so full of my cum that you'll be leaking it for days."

His words ignited a fire in your core, the friction of his cock against your walls sending a wave of pleasure through your body, your climax crashing over you in an earth-shattering orgasm.

Your walls clamped down on him, your body writhing beneath him, his name falling from your lips in a breathless chant.

"Cumming for me already?" he asked, his voice heavy with arousal. "I'm not surprised. Your body was made for this, made for me. You're going to take all my cum, aren't you?"

You could barely form a coherent response, his relentless pounding overwhelming your senses.

The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, his grip on your throat tightening, his breath hot against your skin, was almost too much to bear.

The coil within you tightened, the pressure mounting, until it finally snapped, your vision going white as another orgasm crashed over you, even more powerful than the last.

"Fuck," he hissed, his hips stuttering as he reached his own peak, his cock pulsing inside you, spurts of hot cum filling you to the brim.

"That's it. Take it. Take my cum, pretty."

You sagged against him, your limbs trembling, your core clenching around him, milking him for every last drop.

You felt him lean forward, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, husky rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "I'm not done with you yet. This is just the beginning."

As the minutes passed, you slowly came down from your high, the room coming back into focus, the scent of sweat and sex permeating the air. Your heart hammered in your chest, your body aching from the strain of being used, but Osamu's hold on you was gentle, his touch soft as he cradled you against his chest.

"You did so well, sweetheart," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, his fingers trailing over your skin. "I'm so proud of you."

You hummed in response, too exhausted to speak, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

But the moment his hands began to roam once more, his fingers teasing your still-sensitive folds, his lips trailing down your neck, you knew that the night was far from over.

His touch, his love, his desire, was a drug that you could never get enough of. And as his lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss, his cock hardening against your thigh, you knew that you were powerless to resist.

As the night wore on, the intensity between you and Osamu only seemed to grow, each moment more heated than the last. His touch, his kiss, his very presence consumed you, drawing you deeper into a world where only the two of you existed.

Hours later, as the first light of dawn crept into the room, the evidence of your passion was clear. The bed was a tangled mess of sheets, the pillows scattered haphazardly across the floor. Your clothes lay strewn about, a reminder of the urgency with which they had been discarded.

Your body hummed with a pleasant ache, a physical reminder of the pleasure you had shared. Osamu's arm was draped across your waist, his chest pressed against your back as he slept, his breath tickling the nape of your neck.

Osamu had been true to his word, claiming you again and again, filling you with his cum until your core was dripping with it, the smell of sex permeating the air.

You couldn't remember how many times you had orgasmed, how many times he had driven you to the brink of madness, but the memory of his touch, his lips, his cock, was seared into your mind.

The feeling of him inside you, the warmth of his seed flooding your womb, was enough to make your toes curl.

You could still feel him, his cock still snugly encased within your gummy walls, ensuring that none of his potent seed escaped you while he slept.

Just as you were about to drift off to sleep again, a sudden commotion from the living room jolted you awake. Beside you, Osamu stirred, his brow furrowing in irritation.

"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.

Before either of you could investigate, the bedroom door burst open, revealing a grinning Atsumu. He took one look at your naked forms tangled together on the bed and let out a low whistle.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. "Looks like someone had a good night."

Osamu grabbed a pillow and chucked it at his brother's head. "Get out, you pervert!"

Atsumu dodged the projectile with a laugh, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I just came to make sure you two lovebirds were still alive. You weren't answering your phones."

You felt your cheeks heat up, suddenly very aware of your state of undress. Pulling the sheet up to cover yourself, you shot Atsumu a glare. "We're fine, thanks. Now, if you don't mind..."

Atsumu's grin only widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Sure, sure. I'll leave you to it. But just so you know, the walls in this place are pretty thin. You might want to keep it down next time."

With a wink and a cackle, he ducked out of the room, narrowly avoiding the second pillow Osamu launched at his head.

Osamu flopped back onto the bed with a groan, throwing an arm over his eyes. "I'm going to kill him."

You couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation cutting through the lingering tension. "Maybe next time we should go to my place," you suggested, snuggling up to Osamu's side.

He peeked at you from beneath his arm, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Or maybe next time we should be even louder, just to piss him off."

You grinned, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I like the way you think."

[lowkeyremi]

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 !

pairing: suna, tsukishima, ushijima, osamu, sakusa, and iwaizumi x fem!reader (separate) note: thank you for the request @nicoleisdumb ! this was so fun to write and a nice refreshing break from jjk :3 miss writing abt these boys. summary: You forgot date night ! Oops... now your man is ignoring you?? How are you gonna fix this? content: slight angst to fluff, established relationships (marriage for a few, hehehehehe I will always find a way to sneak babies in), cursing, kinda suggestive for kiyoomi's part. not proofread!!!! wc: 3.3k

❥ 𝐑. 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐀

Rintaro is not one to usually get upset when you forget things because you're human just as he is and he forgets things all the time. He forgets his keys at home sometimes, or his wallet, sometimes he forgets his birthday, etc. (never his phone, he always has that thing).

There has never been a day that he's forgotten a date or an anniversary to your surprise. Lately, though, work has consumed both you and your boyfriend. He was handling it better though, because when you'd get home you would immediately collapse onto the bed and fall asleep. Rintaro would make sure to change you into something more comfortable and at least clean your face with a warm, wet cloth and your face wash.

Today was no different from any others. As soon as you remove your shoes and lay in the bed, all of your problems don't matter anymore. It was only around 7 pm then.

The morning had arrived in a blur. Finally, you had a day off. This morning is off though, because you don't wake up with a set of pajamas on or Rin's t-shirt. That was your first clue to something being off.

The second clue was the fact that he is not in bed. Rin doesn't get up out of bed unless he absolutely has to. Usually, he's holding you captive in his arms. Before you investigate, you take the initiative to shower and brush your teeth. When you're in a fresh pair of clothes; a tank top and shorts, you slowly make your way into the living room, sleep still in your body.

A brown tuft of hair sticks out from under your mickey mouse blanket and a body way too big for the couch is curled up on it. Why is he sleeping on the couch?

"Rin, baby, why are you on the couch?" Silence. He's awake, you know it because of the sound from his phone that's muffled by the blanket. Is he ignoring you? There's no way... he must not have heard you.

So you speak up in case he didn't hear you the first time, "Morning, Rin!"

Still nothing. He doesn't even move. What is his problem? Your mood instantly deflates into something sour. There was a hope within you that you would finally get to spend time with him today. Be it cuddles or going out.

Since he's not talking to you, you'll just decide to make breakfast in order to pass the time and fill the silence. While breakfast is being made you try to think of things you could have possibly done to upset him.

Then it suddenly clicks... you wanted to go out with him today. He had planned to take you out yesterday. That had to be it, right?

"Rinnie was yesterday date night? I'm sorry for forgetting. I think you had tickets for something? I feel so fucking bad, baby." Sleep had instantly taken you last night that you forgot to set an alarm or something so you could remember date night.

He still didn't say anything, but he did get up from the couch to get some food. His gold eyes were cold and unforgiving.

"Rintaro. I'm really sorry. I guess my body got used to going to sleep right when I got home. I didn't even check to see if we were doing anything yesterday. I'll make it up to you, we can go out tonight?"

He's not mad at you, not anymore at least. Even though he's not mad at you, he kind of wanted to be. It's hard for him to be upset with you for too long.

"Don't fall asleep this time, sleepyhead." That familiar smile that you know so well appears on his face. It causes you to smile just as wide if not wider.

In seconds your arms are wrapped around him in a loving hug. "I won't fall asleep. Promise."

❥ 𝐊. 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀

Kei is mean and petty about it. Date night is usually something simple like Netflix and some homemade snacks or something of the sorts. Mainly because the two of you like to stay in rather than go out.

He texted you asking where you were, only for you to reply that there was some old close friend of yours visiting town, so you decided to hang out with them.

When you got home late into the night, it was a little too quiet for you. Kei is probably asleep or playing on his play station, you assume. So, without even knowing that your boyfriend is upset, you go through your whole nightly routine.

Upon entering your bedroom you see his body lying in bed, his chest rising and falling every second. "I'm home." Leaves your lips in a whisper. There is no response so you assume he's asleep.

Halfway through the night you can't sleep, at all. It's probably because your boyfriend's comforting hands aren't wrapped around you, like usual.

You softly nudge your boyfriend's side trying to ease him awake, "Kei."

After a few more tries he finally startles awake, "what?"

"I can't sleep." You whine, "I need you to hug me."

"Shoulda' thought 'bout that before you went off with your friend instead of having date night." His tone is sour, from both being woken up and from you forgetting date night.

A small gasp leaves your lips, suddenly the conversation you two had a week prior to last night floods your brain. You weren't working that day and neither was Kei, which meant you guys could have your annual movie marathon.

"I'm sorry baby, I completely forgot..." He doesn't say anything to you and you can't tell what he's thinking because his back is facing you.

With a new spring of motivation you hop out of bed to make some of your favorite movie snacks and grab your laptop, before heading back to your bedroom.

"How about a redo?" Kei turns his body to look at you, he eyes the snacks and your computer. How could he stay mad at you?

"Hurry up before I change my mind." A huge cat-like grin adorns your pretty face.

❥ 𝐖. 𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

"Daddy, why red circle?" Your little son Nao asks looking at the calendar on the fridge.

"Mommy and Daddy were supposed to go out tonight, but work called Mommy and asked her to come." Wakatoshi explains to his three year old.

The original plan was for Nao's nanny to come a little early because Wakatoshi finally had time off of work and so did you. When she came to take care of your son you two were going to go to dinner and see this new jazz group.

Wakatoshi had only told his son part of the truth, you did have to suddenly go to work but it wasn't because they called you in, it was because you requested to work late, so you could have more time off in the future.

The only reason he sugar-coded it was, because he would never want to paint you in a bad light.

The both of you have enough to support the household and live a steady life so he has no idea why you decided to go into work tonight. It seems you'd even forgotten that you were supposed to go out on a date with him tonight.

"Mommy not gettin' dinner with you?" He asks for clarity.

"Yeah, that's right." He gives the little guy a pat to the head.

"So it's just you and me. After bath time and dinner we can do something fun like watch a movie."

"We watch Dootopa?" He asks with a beaming smile on his face.

"You wanna watch Zootopia?"

"Yes yes!!!" That is his all time favorite movie. Flash the sloth is his favorite character next to Judy Hopps.

"Okay, well lets hurry up and get bath time and dinner time over with."

When you arrive home, your two favorite boys are fast asleep on the couch. You make the assumption they've been watching movies all night because Toy Story 2 is playing and neither are awake to watch it.

Nao is curled up in his father's lap, while Wakatoshi's hand is supporting him in case he falls.

You pick the sleeping little boy up in order to take him to his bed. Wakatoshi ever the light sleeper awakes when you remove Nao from his lap.

Instead of smiling and kissing you goodnight he turns the TV off and proceeds to walk straight to your shared bedroom without a word.

You quickly place your son down in his bed kissing him goodnight. You know why he's upset with you and there's an eagerness for you to fix it.

"I totally forgot about dinner, honey, I'm sorry." Those words leave your lips as soon as you enter your bedroom.

Your hurry to change into something more comfortable so you can join him in bed.

"Don't be mad 'Toshi." He grunts, his back is turned to you, so who knows what he's thinking.

Luckily for you he tends to not hold grudges.

"I'll get us a reservation at your favorite place," desperation seeps into your voice when he still doesn't answer you, "I really feel dumb for calling into work today, please cut me a break baby-"

"You aren't dumb, by any means, and I'm not mad. I'm confused." That's when you remember that Wakatoshi doesn't usually ignore you when he's upset about something.

The reason he doesn't say anything is usually because he's thinking.

You wait for him to tell you why he's confused and as you do so you sink into bed. At the point he turns over to see your face.

"I'm confused as to why you needed to work late when you already have so many days off."

"Well- I was hoping the three of us could go on vacation this summer, if the team doesn't require you to do your workouts there." His confusion is replaced with awe.

"Just ask them for days off, if they dock your pay it won't matter. We have enough to live comfortably, I promise." It feels good to finally have your man looking into your eyes again. A relieved sigh leaves your lips.

❥ 𝐎. 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀

"Forgettin' something?" Your husband asks right before you walk out the door to go to your best friend's baby shower. He's leaning against the door frame, his huge arms flex when he goes to cross them over his equally large chest.

Is there something you're forgetting? Nothing rings a bell, so you assume he means you're about to forget to kiss him goodbye.

You lean into kiss him and he kisses you back of course, but there's still a pout on his face and he doesn't look satisfied.

"I love you, 'Samu! I gotta get going before I'm late!" So you forgot about it. You forgot that tonight Osamu was supposed to take you to the shop and fix up a nice dinner for you two at your favorite table. He'd serve your favorite wine and you two would talk about the stupidest things into the early hours of the morning. He even closed early for tonight.

I mean, he can't blame you, your best friend of a lifetime is having a baby shower, and of course she wants you there. It would have made him feel a little bit better if you at least remembered it, but you didn't.

Osamu wouldn't be a Miya if he wasn't at least a little bit petty about it. He's decided he'll ignore you until you figure out that you'd forgotten about your date tonight. Maybe if he's not too sour he'll make dinner for you.

The petty man in question has been watching the clock for the past twenty minutes. You were supposed to be home by now, because it's already 8:45 pm. The baby shower started at 6 and ended at 7, so, where are you?

Just as he asks himself that question, the telltale sound of keys on the other end of the door snaps him out of his trance.

"Hey baby, I'm back!" The door swings open and your pretty face greets him.

He doesn't say anything back to you, he just pretends to be busy on his phone.

"Sorry I got back so late, I stayed to help her clean everything up." Your eyes watch your husband carefully, checking for any sign of him being upset, because he doesn't say anything yet again.

"What's wrong, 'Samu?" Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He's definitely mad, now you just need to figure out why.

After a quick change into your slippers and your keys are on the rack you walk up to him, giving him a hug from behind. You rest your chin on his shoulder. He's scrolling through twitter, his personal one not the one for promoting the shop.

"Why are you sulking? You're acting like your brother." Osamu accepts his fate, you know he can't ignore you when you compare him to his brother.

"Do not compare me to that oversized baby." When he hears your beautiful laugh he almost forgets why he was upset, almost.

"Did I not tell ya that ya were forgettin' somethin' before ya left?" The question in his voice makes you think for a second.

"Was it not a kiss?" He shakes his head. Now you're completely lost.

"I was 'posed to take ya down to the shop and we were gonna eat at our table." When he finishes his sentence you gasp in remembrance. Oh shit. You forgot about date night.

"Baby, you can't possibly be telling me I had to choose you or her." He stiffens for a brief moment, then relaxes.

"Nah, I was just hoping ya'd at least remember it." A shudder rolls down his spine when you give him a small kiss on the neck.

"I'm sorry for forgetting, baby. Let's have a do ov-" Osamu doesn't allow you to finish because he scoops you up bridal style and brings you into the kitchen to set you down on the counter.

"Ya better watch me cook or I won't forgive you."

"Aye aye captian!"

"Yer so annoying." He smiles at you.

❥ 𝐊. 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀

"Bye baby! Mama and Dada love you!" Your baby girl waves at you shyly as you and Kiyoomi drop her off with her grandparents.

"I wuv you too! Bye bye Mama, bye bye Dada." Kiyoomi hugs his daughter tightly before setting her down next to her grandma.

"Alright, sweet girl, make sure to be good for nana and poppa okay?" She nods her adorable little head, the tiny ponytails you put in her hair swing rapidly.

As soon as you guys are in the car, a look of excitement flashes in your husband's eyes.

"What?" You can't help smile when he looks at you like that.

"Made us that reservation for brunch like you asked." Your smile immediately drops. You'd forgotten that you and Kiyoomi planned this whole weekend out already. You two had planned this weekend two weeks prior, which is kind of why you forgot and booked a mani-pedi for an hour from now.

"Fuckkkkk." Why do you forget the most important things?

"Kiyo, can we do dinner instead? I forgot about brunch and booked a mani-pedi because today is the only day my nail lady could fit me in."

A tension forms almost immediately when you inform him of your plans. Guilt is heavy on your stomach while listening to your husband cancel brunch over the phone. The rest of the car ride is silent except for the sound that's happening outside of the car.

Your husband is kind enough to drop you off at your nail appointment. You feel so bad as you hop out of the car, so in order to try and smooth things over you offer for him to come inside but he just mumbles a quick, "No thank you, I'll come get you when it's done."

That's how you ended up spilling everything to your nail lady. She shakes her head as she shapes the gel nails into the shape you asked for. "What's his favorite color on you, sweetheart?"

You think for a second before answering, "He loves when I get sage green." The woman gives you a knowing smile and you connect the dots as to what she's referring to.

"You want him to feel better? Take him to dinner and then give him a night to remember with those pretty nails. Works every time with my husband." She says with a mischievous smile.

Your eyes widen for a second, "Oh my- I- we haven't had time to do anything because our little girl requires most of our time, but she's with her grandparents for the weekend."

The nail lady giggles as she goes to find your color. "Honey, if that's not a sign to get laid then I don't know what is!"

When your appointment is over you see the cadillac waiting for you in the parking lot. Kiyoomi doesn't even bother to look up when you enter the car.

"Got your favorite color." You purr with a seductive smile on your face. Kiyoomi doesn't spare you a glance, "Cool."

"Stop being so mean, I'm sorry about brunch. I made a reservation for dinner." That finally baits his attention, he turns to you, a nasty look in his eyes.

"Oh I actually think I'm going to be busy, can't go to dinner." He mocks your voice to make you feel what he had felt earlier. He's being mean, but he doesn't mean it. He still kind of has this habit of getting defensive when he or his pride is hurt.

"Too busy to get a blowjob in the car after dinner?" You know you've got him when he stops breathing for a few seconds. Your husband is only a man, and what kind of man would he be to deny a blowjob from his wife?

"Shit, should have started with that. Let me see your nails." The whole time he inspects your pretty hands there's a smirk on your face.

"I love this color on you baby."

"I know you do Kiyo. Now, let's get home, we have to get ready for dinner tonight."

Having your daughter stay with her grandparents for the weekend was the best decision you guys have made in a while.

❥ 𝐇. 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈

Hajime has been ignoring you for the past two hours and you can't figure out why.

You know you haven't done anything to piss him off recently (or so you think), so his behavior is kind of strange. Nothing you did made him listen to you either.

He doesn't even let you know he's leaving for work, which reminds you of yesterday. You were so excited to go see your cousin's puppy you'd forgotten to tell your boyfriend you'd be out for awhile.

Suddenly while you're tidying up the kitchen you briefly remember him asking you on a date... yesterday.

That's probably why he's ignoring you.

So of course, being the problem solver you are, you head to the store to get stuff to set up a nice date at home.

You decorate the table with pretty rose petals and cook his favorite meal for him. Candles light up the table and two glasses of wine are set on the table.

Hajime lets out a loud groan as he enters the house, working with a bunch of athletes all the time is quite tiring. What he doesn't expect is the dimmed lights and quiet music playing from the alexa in the kitchen.

For the first time today he talks to you, "What's all this?"

"An apology for forgetting our date last night. I set up an at home date for us." He tries and fails to look upset, still.

"I'm glad you remembered," he pauses, "the day after our date." A snort leaves his lips and you roll your eyes.

"At least I remembered. Hurry up and put your stuff up so we can eat. The food is gonna get cold."

It's safe to say he forgives with the way a lopsided grin adorns his face.

divider: @/chachachannah

[haikyu-mp4]

Two jobs, part 2

word count; 1107 – set a few years after part 1, reader and Osamu are married and the three of you live together. I gave your son a name, Kazuo, to make writing easier

You were away on a business trip and left your two favourite guys to take care of each other for a few days. Luckily, you didn’t have to do this often, but you were relieved they got along so well that you could. Even though Kazuo grew attached to Osamu in a way before you two even started dating, it had been an adjustment for all of you after you got married and moved in together, especially because your son was at his most difficult age.

Currently, Kazuo sat on a bar chair by the island counter while Osamu made dinner. The two would often hang out in the kitchen together, because Kazuo liked spending time with Osamu when he had an excuse for it. He also found it hilarious when he asked his stepdad for help with his homework and Samu got frustrated because he didn’t understand it either. It was a peaceful connection they had, and you usually did your best to let them have their time in the kitchen to themselves even when you were home.

“Hey, look at this.” Osamu said to catch his attention. When Kazuo looked up, he did some weird juggling trick with the pepper shaker before adding the necessary seasoning to the soup he was making. Then he did the same with the salt to show it wasn’t a fluke. “Am I cool, or what?” It was meant as a joke, but there was a hopeful look in his eyes.

Kazuo made a face. “Uhh… yeah.” he said, which was an obvious lie, making Osamu deflate. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt particularly sensitive about it all of a sudden. Perhaps it had something to do with the difference of how Kazuo looked when he got to play volleyball with his twin compared to how he politely declined lately when Osamu asked him if they should do some passes in the garden.

“Do you not think I’m cool?” he asked after a long silence, leaning one hand on his hip while the other stirred the soup to make sure it didn’t stick to the bottom.

“Not like Tsumu.” Kazuo answered honestly without thinking about it, eyes on his homework so he didn’t notice his stepdad’s face scrunching up. If he thought he felt sensitive before, that one hit the spot for sure. “But it’s okay, being a chef is good too.” The boy honestly didn’t think adults cared so much about being cool.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t take pity on me now.” he said followed by a deep sigh. “Maybe I should cook you instead, you gremlin.” Kazuo just laughed, unknowing of Osamu’s bruised ego. When he turned back to his homework, Osamu pulled his phone out and opened messages, sending a simple ‘You’re ugly and stupid’ to Atsumu without context. That made him feel a little better, at least. You bet he’ll call you that night before bed for some reassurance. And to remind you that he loves you, of course.

Sometimes, Kazuo was allowed to go to parties in exchange for sharing his location at all times while he was away with whichever parental figure was home at the time. Usually, the parties were alright. Typical underage parties where someone had stolen a few beers from a parent and they all tasted it before looking disgusted and swearing to never drink it again. He would be picked up at the agreed time with a few complaints of how lame you were for setting those rules, and then he would tell you he loved you under his breath before going to bed.

However, they were growing older and that came with engaging in new topics of interest. That’s how Kazuo ended up in a game of seven minutes in heaven that he desperately wanted out of. It’s not like he could just tell them he might prefer guys over girls, he wasn’t even sure yet himself! It was all too much, so he snuck away and pulled out his phone with slightly shaky hands. You’re still on your business trip, and he was starting to miss you even though he would never tell you that. After all, you were the only one he relied on for the first 10 years of his life.

He pulled up his contacts on the old phone you had gifted him, scrolling past your contact until he got to a Miya. Even though he knew Atsumu liked spending time with him, he didn’t seem to have that much spare time anymore. Actually, he probably wouldn’t call Atsumu for an emergency anyways, he realised. Tsumu was more of a cool uncle, like he told Osamu in the kitchen the day before. Now that he was in trouble, he already knew who he had to call.

“Samu…” Kazuo said, voice cracking a little so he pretended to clear his throat.

“What’s up, buddy?” Osamu sounded tired, like he had taken a nap in that recliner he loved to occupy when you weren’t home. If you knew he snoozed off while your boy was at a party, you would not be happy, but at least he picked up the phone.

“Can you come pick me up?” he asked not too loudly, frowning at the floor. “I’m okay, I just want to go home.” He tried to sound tough and chill, but it didn’t fool Osamu.

“Sure, I’ll head out now. Go outside in about 15 minutes but not before. Actually, stay inside until I’m there.” Kazuo chuckled a bit at Osamu’s short ramble where he corrected himself, then he hummed in confirmation and hung up. So he told his friends he was feeling under the weather and went outside when Osamu came to pick him up.

Kazuo didn’t say much more than “Thanks for picking me up,” and “I don’t want to talk about it,” after getting in the car, and Osamu knew he would rather tell you about it than him, so he didn’t pry.

Instead, he clicked his tongue with a cheeky smile. “You know, the new Star Wars movie just came out for streaming. I won’t tell your mom we stayed up late if you don’t.”

And as he looked to the side where Kazuo fiddled with his hands in the passenger seat wearing a relieved smile, safe because he dared text him for help, Osamu decided that he didn’t need to be cool. He just had to be there.

Even so, his chest bloomed with pride when Kazuo came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth for the night and told him, “Thanks for the movie, Samu. You are pretty cool.”

masterlist

taglist: @miyamizuna, @makkir0ll, @shiratorizawa-can-step-on-me, @sobbing-leave-me-alone-bots, @eeerreehhh, @f4iryk3i, @cosmiicdust, @malikazz243

[zorosprincess]

Betrayal

PAIRING - Miya Osamu x Reader WC - 1.4K GENRE - Light Angst not really Crack Fic lbr CW - mentions of cheating

"I'm sorry."

It was a whisper, a pathetic sentiment at the moment.

"Osamu, please, I'm sorry."

There was nothing else you could say. You knew that. You couldn't even look at his face. You looked anywhere you could besides him. Your fingers pulled lightly at a loose thread on the sleeve of your sleep shirt, the loose shirt that belonged to the man you currently couldn't look in the eye.

"S'that all ya have t'say?" The betrayed tone bled through Osamu's voice as he leaned against the wall across from you.

You were suddenly extremely aware of how uncomfortable your couch was in this moment. You averted your eyes again, focusing on the coffee table in front of you now. It was a pretty glass top one that Osamu and you had picked out together your first month in your little apartment together.

You almost smiled as you remembered how happy you and Osamu had been to decorate your apartment together. You didn't because you remembered that you were about to be in one of the biggest fights you'd ever been in with each other.

And it was your fault.

"What else am I supposed to say 'Samu?" There was nothing you could say.

"I didn't mean to?" You did mean to.

"I didn't know what I was doing?" You knew exactly what you were doing and how much it would hurt him if he found out.

"I didn't do it?" You both knew that wasn't true. You had been caught red-handed. He had walked into the room in the middle of it.

You sighed and hung your head again. Your eyes trained on the decorative rug under your feet. You slowly traced the design with your toe as you waited for him to respond.

"How could ya do that t'me?" His voice was soft and if you didn't know better you'd say he was about to cry. But you knew better and you knew that if Osamu was arguing with you and was going to cry, he'd wait until you weren't there. Thinking that crying would only make you feel worse. You could say that this time, you might deserve to feel worse than you already were. But he was always thinking about you. Even now. "I thought ya loved me y/n."

Your head shot up then, eyes connecting with his. His eyes were filled with genuine hurt and you could feel your heartstrings slowly snapping. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, his muscles tensed and if the situation was different, you would have been simply admiring how absolutely attractive he was and how lucky you were to have him around. Instead- "I do love you!" You shouted, unintentionally being louder than you meant. You quieted yourself. He didn't deserve to be yelled at. "I love you so much Osamu."

He scoffed a little bit, turning his head to look away from you. "Ya love me so much." He drew out the 'so' and you flinched a little bit at the sarcasm in his voice. Tone biting into you. "That's why ya went and betrayed me like this!" His arm flung out and pointed towards the evidence of your betrayal as he yelled. You bit your lip, shame filling you. "If ya loved me ya wouldn'ta done it!"

"I'm sorry 'Samu!" You shouted back, losing your calm composure. "I don't know what I was thinking!" You sniffed a bit and gestured randomly as you continued. "You just weren't around! And it had been so long!" You threw your head back and groaned lightly, shifting your volume back down. "I don't know, I just couldn't wait anymore. I'm sorry 'Samu."

You lifted your eyes back to meet his as he looked at you incredulously. "Are ya kiddin' me!?" He was pissed now and you almost regretted your outburst. Almost. "Ya couldn't wait!? That's yer reason fer betrayin' my trust!" He laughed then, not a happy one that filled you with joy, not like the usual way he did. A bark of a laugh, one filled with irritation and sarcasm. "This is the last straw y/n! We're done!"

Your jaw dropped then. Amazed at the words that had just come out of the mouth of the man you swore you loved more than anything. "You're joking." He shook his head and crossed his arms again, looking away from you. You groaned in irritation. "You're being dramatic Osamu!" You were shouting without regret now. "It's not that big of a deal!"

"Dramatic!?" He looked back at you, jaw dropped. "Ya cheated on me!"

You rolled your eyes then, the last bits of your apologies draining. "I did not cheat on you!" You defended yourself to him.

"Ya betrayed me!" He shouted back, flinging his arms around to emphasize his point.

You ran your hands over your face in exasperation. "Now you're just actin' like 'Tsumu." You dug at him and watched as his jaw dropped at you. If he wasn't betrayed before, he surely was now.

"How dare-"

You cut him off. "It was just food, 'Samu! I'm sorry!" You went to stand from your position on the couch finally, taking a step towards him.

He stopped leaning against the wall in order to step away from you. That hurt. "Just food! I wake up 'spectin' to see my beautiful girl cuddled with me and 'stead find ya out here eatin' without me!"

"I tried to wait for you!" You raised your voice again. "You were the one not waking up! I thought I could get away with it before you woke up!"

"Ya thought ya could get away with it!?" You cringed as he mimicked back your choice of words, a bad choice. He pointed back to the evidence of your betrayal - an empty take out bag that you had door dashed to your apartment with the instructions to not knock and only text so that you wouldn't risk waking Osamu. "Didn't even think to get me somethin'!?"

"I'm sorry! Let me make it up to you please." You lowered your voice and he let you step closer. "I'll buy you whatever food you want from wherever you choose for the rest of the day." You could see his body visibly relax a little as he started to calm down.

You looked up at him and tapped on his collarbone lightly, trying to get him to look down at you and stop looking over your head to avoid you and your remorseful stare. "Forgive me baby?" He grumbled as you leaned up on your toes and pressed a kiss to the base of his throat, your usual indicator that you wanted him to lean down for a real kiss.

"Three days." He bartered with you, finally looking down and catching your gaze.

You hummed in thought before shaking your head. "Two. Take it or leave it."

"Fine." He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer at last. "You drive me crazy." He mumbled the half-hearted insult and pressed a soft kiss against your lips before releasing you.

Now that you two were done arguing, you could take a moment to appreciate the way he looked as he stepped back. Shirtless (stolen by your form) with his sweats hanging low on his hips, hair still messy from sleep. You smiled as you caught his eyes linger on your bare thighs, right where his shirt ended. He only rolled his eyes and turned away when he realized that he'd been caught.

"So, are we okay now?" You sing-songed as he started to walk back to your bedroom.

"You're still y/n for the next two hours." He threw back over his shoulder. "You don't get to be called Angel yet."

It was your turn to have your jaw drop in shock. "You never deny me of cute nicknames! You can't do that!" You scrambled to follow after him, not being able to see the smirk creeping onto his lips at your reaction.

"Ya compared me t'Tsumu." He wasn't honestly mad about it anymore, but he would be lying if he said he didn't find it cute to watch you pout at not being called by your usual nickname. He'd ;et you off the hook later, and make up for it at length.

"I said I was sorry!"

a/n a rewrite of my first ever fic <33 i still love her

[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.

[kitashousewife]

“sorry ‘samu, i hadn’t gotten to those yet,” you sigh, looking at the now folded stacks of his clean laundry you had placed on the bed.

“why are ya apologizing?” he waves you off. he’s working on his socks now, pairing them up one by one. you decide to join them, and he throws a bundle at you. “these are mine anyway. i don’t mind foldin’, baby.”

you can’t help but smile.

“i’m serious though, i was going to do them,”

he shakes his head and snorts. putting the clothes away, he smirks over his shoulder.

“yer my wife, not my ma,” he shuts the dresser one last time, shuffling over to plant a kiss on your head. “we help each other. ya ain’t doin it all alone.”

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 - haikyuu edition

So here is the complete masterlist i did for kinktober 2023, and it is an all haikyuu special! I’m excited to share all these with you and I hope you like them!

Day 1: THIGH RIDING - Miya Atsumu x reader

Day 2: THREESOME - Bokuto Koutaro x reader x Akaashi Keiji

Day 3: PHONE SEX - Oikawa Tooru x reader

Day 4: SHOWER/TUB - Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Day 5: MUTUAL MASTURBATION - Kageyama Tobio x reader

Day 6: ORAL - Terushima Yuuji x reader

Day 7: ORGASM DENIAL - Matsukawa Issei x reader

Day 8: DOMINATION - Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader

Day 9: SKINNY DIPPING - Hinata Shoyo x reader

Day 10: VIDEO TAPING - Suna Rintarou x reader

Day 11: STRANGERS - Iwaizumi Hajime x reader

Day 12: PUBLIC PLAY - Tendou Satori x reader

Day 13: GROUP SEX - Seijoh 4 x reader

Day 14: AGE DIFFERENCE - Ukai Keishin x reader

Day 15: MORNING SEX - Bokuto Koutaro x reader

Day 16: DADDY - Miya Osamu x reader

Day 17: DIRTY TALK - Miya Atsumu x reader

Day 18: HAIR PULLING - Kozume Kenma x reader

Day 19: SPANKING - Iwaizumi Hajime x reader

Day 20: SCRATCHING - Bokuto Koutaro x reader

Day 21: WINDOW - Suna Rintarou x reader

Day 22: KNOT - Miya Osamu x reader

Day 23: VOYEURISM - Kageyama Tobio x reader x Oikawa Tooru

Day 24: CAR - Miya Atsumu x reader

Day 25: COCKWARMING - Sugawara Koushi x reader

Day 26: DEGRADATION - Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Day 27: HATE SEX - Kuroo Tetsuro x reader

Day 28: DOUBLE PENETRATION - Kita Shinsuke x reader x Miya Osamu

Day 29: BRAT TAMING - Kita Shinsuke x reader

Day 30: OVERSTIMULATION - Sugawara Koushi x reader

Day 31: BREEDING KINK - Miya Osamu x reader

[noosayog]

002 get him back!

✧ wc: 4k

✧ warnings/content: miya osamu x fem!reader, sfw, fake dating au, angst to fluff,

✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist

divider from @/cafekitsune

It all started when Miya Atsumu said that you would never be able to find anyone who could put up with you. And you would have taken that with a grain of salt, if Miya Atsumu wasn't your ex who also happened to be a thorough asshole.

“Well you dated me didn’t you?!” 

“And we broke up, duh.” he says flippantly. 

You clam up at that. You know he’s just saying things. He doesn’t mean it and he’s a complete moron. But it’s been almost a year since the break-up and not a single man has even offered to buy you a drink. Are you going to have to resort to making a Hinge profile? 

–

“I don’t know why ya let him get to ya. He’s just a moron,” Osamu says. 

“You have to say that, he’s your brother,” you grumble. 

“True. But he is an idiot.” 

You plop your face heavily into the elbow resting on the counter and blow raspberries in one big exhale. 

“Don’t get yer spit all over where my customers eat.” 

You grunt, turning over to watch Osamu work behind the counter. 

“Do you think I’m unlovable?” you ask.

“Huh?” 

“There must be a reason no one’s asked me out on a date in the past 8 months, right?” 

Osamu sighs, dropping off a plate of food in front of you. “I’m not gonna answer that.” Then he turns with his back facing you to fiddle with something on the other side of the kitchen. 

“Why not?” 

He exhales through his nose, quiet, but you hear it. 

He doesn’t get the chance to answer because the door swings open to reveal Osamu’s twin. You jolt up, fixing your posture, self-conscious about letting Atsumu think his words are getting to you. 

And rightfully so because Atsumu acts like a shark that smells blood. His lips curl up into what he thinks is a smirk, but resembles much more of a snarl. 

“What’s up with ya,” he asks oh-so-innocently. 

You have no good response and feel your face heating up in embarrassment when Osamu swoops in. 

“Are ya gonna sit down or just block my door? ‘Cause I got people that actually pay to eat here.” 

Atsumu starts yelling something at Osamu but simmers down into the seat next to you and mumbles something to himself, no doubt some choice words for his brother. It gives you momentary reprieve from Atsumu’s provocation which is the last thing you need right now with your self-esteem in the dumps. 

The break is temporary though, because like a true creature with short-term memory and a propensity for being a prick, Atsumu circles back to the topic when he’s done eating. 

“So, found a guy to take you out?” 

“What makes you think I’d answer that question,” you bite back. Weak, but it’s all you have. 

“Hah,” he scoffs. “I knew it. Ya can’t find anyone.” 

You feel the irritation boiling like a witch’s cauldron inside of you, brewing a mix of resentment, mortification, and the tiniest streak of competitiveness. Atsumu not shutting up for the rest of the night is the final ingredient that makes your red hot concoction boil over. It goes a bit like this: 

“Tell me if ya want me to set ya up with someone from the team. Might be the only chance ya get at this rate,” he teases. 

“No thanks,” you hiss. “I’ll have you know that I’m dating Osamu, widely known as the better Miya.” You point smugly at Osamu whose back is currently to you both. 

“What!” Atsumu yells. “Osamu? And you?” 

With Osamu’s back to you, you can’t see his face, but all your fingers and toes are crossed that he’ll play along so that you don’t burn up in a gas of complete humiliation. 

When Osamu turns around, his eyes go to you first. They search yours for something – what, you don’t know. He apparently finds it because he blinks away and tells his brother to mind his own business, neither denying nor validating your claim. 

It might as well be confirmation though, because Atsumu squawks in indignation, sputtering his disbelief. Osamu continues to bicker with his brother, keeping him occupied enough to not realize that he was slowly being backed out of the restaurant. 

When Osamu slams the door on Atsumu and twists the lock in a dramaticized show of finality, Atsumu finally gives up, yelling a muffled “I’ll be back.” through the windows. You could laugh at the duo if Osamu didn’t turn around and fix you with a look, similar to that of a responsible older brother scolding a child. 

“Now yer turn. What was that about?”

“Osamu! You heard the way he was talking to me. I just can’t stand it!” 

“Have ya thought this through? How’s this supposed to end, huh? We break up and Atsumu goes back to making fun of ya?”

You open your mouth to beg, because it’s always worked with Osamu. He always gives in. But he’s not done, apparently. 

“‘Least ya could’ve done is ask me out, not use me to get through yer petty grudge with ‘Tsumu.” 

That shuts you up. When you look at Osamu, he’s not looking at you. His eyes are downcast, distracting himself by wiping up the counter. It’s so brief that you convince yourself that you imagined the hurt in his voice. 

“‘Samu…” 

“Forget it. I’ll do it, but ya better have it thought out because I’m not helping ya anymore than this.” 

It should be a win and any other time, you would wrap him up in a bear hug and shower him with thanks, but the defeated way Osamu concedes makes you solemnly finish your meal. It feels unfitting to say thank you. 

–

Your first stint as Osamu’s girlfriend comes in the form of a friend’s dinner party. Since the night you forced Osamu to be your boyfriend, you have been back at Onigiri Miya to hang out, but have painfully tiptoed around the topic. The thought has occurred to you that you and Osamu should agree upon a backstory, but you haven’t had the courage to breach the topic after the way Osamu reacted. 

He had just nodded when you asked him to attend this dinner party with you. And with that, he had dutifully picked you up at your apartment, perfectly on time. You had expected a stone-faced Osamu all night, but he had surprised you with a sweet smile, one that you’re used to being on the receiving end of. But it somehow feels different tonight. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s supposed to be smiling at you as your lover tonight. It was easy, the way he had held out his arm for you, no awkwardness in sight. 

At dinner, Osamu makes no move to let go of your hand, going as far as to intertwine your fingers under the table. When any one asks how the two of you began dating, he squeezes to tell you he’ll handle this. You’re grateful and you feel undeservingly spoiled as you watch him. He looks around the room, drifts his gaze back to you where his lips flicker upwards for the tiniest second, then looks back at the crowd to flash a mysterious, close-lipped smile. You can barely hear the dinner table go wild with jeers and Atsumu squawking as you gawk at Osamu’s act.

And it goes on. 

As you eat, he keeps your fingers clasped between his, laid on his lap. Atsumu gives you two the stink-eye, questioning why Osamu was eating with his left hand. You’re pretty sure your eyes are bulging out of your head at this point, because Osamu flushes. Osamu is blushing as he reluctantly lets go of your hand, making a show out of placing your hand back on your own lap and mumbling a heavily-accented apology at no one in particular. 

–

When dinner finally ends, the party migrates to the living room. Osamu doesn’t need to ask, perfectly picking your favorite after-dinner drink of choice as he chooses a beer for himself. He has once again claimed your hand in his. His grip is tight and when you try to slip your hand out to get some space, he holds tighter. 

You lean up to whisper in his ear, “Osamu, my hands are sweaty.” 

He leans down to hear you better, but stands back up when he registers your comment. He ignores you, only squeezing twice, as if telling you to behave for him. Your head spins; you’ve never dated like this before. 

Being with Atsumu was like living in a comically unrealistic sit-com, like you were constantly finding yourself in situations and having conversations that belong in a Tom and Jerry episode. He argued with you about everything, had an ego, and a temper. A particularly memorable moment was when he was still courting you, trying to convince you to date him by saying, “I’m six foot two.” 

“Dude, nice try,” you had said. 

But somehow, right now, with Osamu standing by your side and towering over you, you think that if this younger twin used that line on you right now, you’d fold in half for him. As if you wouldn’t with all the sweet nothings he’s lavished on you in this one night. 

He only lets you get away when you embarrassingly whisper to him that you need a bathroom break. 

“I’ll walk with ya.” 

“No!” you exclaim. You lower your voice when he stares at you. “It’s okay, ‘Samu. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

He backs off and you finally get away from his orbit. 

Finally alone, you barely pull yourself together. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, slapping your cheeks lightly to pry the strange daze from your eyes. You can’t get carried away here. Osamu is doing you a favor, one he isn’t fond of. You can’t get used to Osamu treating you like this. It’s borrowed time. 

You splash water onto your face, waiting until the chill seeps into your cheeks that have been painfully hot since Osamu picked you up tonight. 

As you exit the bathroom, Atsumu is there waiting for you in the hallway. 

“I’m onto ya,” he starts. 

You scoff, immediately putting your facade back on. It’s easy with Atsumu. “Oh please, Atsumu. You’re just jealous.” 

It doesn't phase Atsumu the way you hope. “Such a weak comeback. Sounds like something you’d say to disguise the fact that yer playin’ my brother.” Your brother is the one playing me.

“Whatever, Atsumu,” you say, walking away, taking Osamu’s advice to not let Atsumu get to you. 

“I bet ya forced my brother to pretend to be yer boyfriend. I know my brother and I know you. Just admit it.” He smirks. “It’s okay that no one wants to date ya. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” 

The fact that even Atsumu, even all of his stupidity, sees right through you makes you feel hot. You’re grateful that you’ve already turned away from him because you could not take much more damage tonight. Nothing would end you in a worse way than Atsumu seeing that he could make you cry.  

Or maybe it’s the fact that Atsumu doesn’t, for one second, believe that someone like his brother could fall for someone like you. Maybe no one does. Maybe everyone here just thinks that you’re making this up and they’re playing along to help you save face. 

It takes everything in you to keep your steps and breathing even as you take the walk back to Osamu to compose yourself. 

It’s useless apparently because Osamu seems right through you. He immediately offers to take you to the balcony, explaining to everyone that you need some fresh air to cut through the alcohol you’ve had. 

His silent understanding makes it worse because it makes it clear that you’re an open book. The act you put on is completely pointless because no one believes you anyway. 

Osamu guides you to the balcony and shuts the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone. 

He joins you at the railing, draping his jacket over you. You know he knows that you want to avoid looking into his eyes, just as much as he knows you want to avoid having this conversation altogether. He sighs. 

“Why do ya let him get to you like that?” 

You look back at him, eyes widening at the tone he rarely takes with you. His eyes are fixed forward, arms still dutifully wrapped around you, ever the dedicated boyfriend. But as his gaze flickers to you momentarily, you catch the weight of his question in his eyes. 

“Who?” you mumble. 

But Osamu’s not in the mood. He stays silent, letting the question hang in the air. 

“I don’t know… I just…” 

“Are ya still in love with my brother?” 

“No,” you answer honestly. 

Osamu raises his brows. 

“No, but I’ve known him for so long now.” You feel the need to explain. “He just gets under my skin. You of all people should understand – he’s your brother! You guys fight all day long.” 

“He’s my brother. We shared a womb. We were born to fight.” Osamu sighs. “You, though... Why can’t ya just let it go?” 

“I don’t know! I just…” you trail off. 

He continues to stare at you, not even knowing the effect he has on you. His earnest gaze pulls the truth out from under your skin. 

“I wanna get him back,” you admit. 

Osamu’s eyes go dark at that statement. His expression shutters.

“Not like that!” you quickly amend. “Not like I want to get back with him, I mean like, his face just pisses me off!” 

“Huh?” 

“I just wanna punch him in the face but I don’t think anything would give me more satisfaction than proving him wrong you know. And honestly, Osamu, you-” 

“Ya think that I’m the perfect person to piss him off for ya. ‘Cause I’m his brother and there’s no one else who would get under his skin more than if I replaced him.” 

You hear the disappointment heavy in his intonation. 

“Osamu…” 

“Am I wrong?” 

He’s not wrong, but you feel an urge to tell him how he made you tingle at dinner. It was in the way he catered to your whims, covered for you, and held your hand in secret. It was in the way he, as your not-boyfriend, made you feel loved and desired much more so than any other boyfriend you’ve ever had before. 

But when you look at his side profile, face now turned away from you and hidden by the shadows of the night, it doesn’t feel right to say any of that. Even in your mind, it sounds like an excuse. Because the bottom line is that he’s right. Your original intentions had been to use Osamu. And the fact that you might have developed a slight crush on him in the process doesn’t make you feel any less shitty and certainly doesn’t make Osamu feel any less used. 

His question goes unanswered. 

– 

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. Actually, it goes by too uneventfully because Osamu doesn’t call or text once. Not that you’ve made an effort, but after how that last conversation with Osamu ended, you can’t find the courage to face Osamu. 

It doesn’t make you miss him any less. 

You can’t recall if you used to miss Osamu like this, think about him and wish he’d reach out even if it’s only been a couple of days since you’ve last met. You only know that right now, you wish he’d make the first move because you can’t muster up the nerve to see him, even if it’s all you wanted. It also makes you realize that Osamu has been spoiling you long before that night and long before he agreed to be your fake boyfriend. The reason you never had to miss him is because he is always the one who makes the effort to call, text, bring you lunch, pick you up from work, drive you around. 

The realization only made you feel worse about yourself.

And after days of mulling over realization after realization, each making you guiltier and guiltier, you made your decision. 

That’s how you end up running to Osamu’s apartment, late on a Thursday evening. Without pausing to compose yourself, afraid you’ll lose your momentum, you knock. 

The door swings open to reveal a very tired-looking, very handsome Osamu. He has his cap off, but his hair is unruly, as if his fingers have just recently run through it. His eyes are slightly bloodshot and his t-shirt is wrinkled. The urge to rub your thumb over his eyelids and smooth your other hand over this shirt is a sudden one you shove down because Osamu’s opening his mouth. 

“Hey, what’cha doing here so late?” 

There’s a momentary disappointment that strikes your gut. He asks you so normally, as if he isn’t plagued with thoughts of avoiding you. As if the couple of days that have gone by without any interaction between the two of you isn’t even a thought that occupies headspace.

“Uh,” you stutter. 

“Actually,” he sighs and glances behind him. “Now’s not a good time. Can ya-” 

“I don’t care about Atsumu,” you cut him off. It sounds like he’s preparing a rejection. Or he just doesn’t want to talk. Neither of which are favorable outcomes, so you barrel through to say what you need to say. 

“I don’t care about what he thinks. Not anymore and definitely not that night. I was actually thinking about you the entire time and Atsumu, well, he’s just-”

“Just wait a minute, okay-” 

“He just gets under my nerves because of the shit he says and I know he’s just saying stuff to rile me up and I’m a hothead, okay? He gets me because we’re like the same person sometimes, but I’m not doing this to get back at him anymore. It’s actually your fault because-”

“I knew it!” a voice yells from behind Osamu. 

You crane your neck to see around Osamu and curse Osamu’s big frame for taking up the entire doorway and blocking your view of the apartment because there is the older twin, grinning widely and walking up to where you’re both standing.

You instantly feel the panic rise in your system. 

“Atsumu,” Osamu begins in a warning tone. 

Ignoring his brother, Atsumu continues on. “I knew it. I knew the two of ya couldn’t be dating just like that.” 

Your nervous system goes into overdrive. Even you know how this looks. 

You barged into Osamu’s place randomly at night and picked the time when Atsumu coincidentally is here as well.

Your wide eyes meet Osamu, willing him to believe that you didn’t come to make a scene for Atsumu’s viewing. You didn’t come to confess that you might have a crush on him with this exact timing so that Atsumu would fall for the act. 

When Osamu refuses to meet your eyes, it brings your attention back to Atsumu, who continues to gloat about his victory. 

Your face burns in mortification as you take slow steps away from the twins, making room for your getaway. As Atsumu gets closer and Osamu continues to avoid your gaze, your courage wanes and the last bit of pride you’re holding onto propels you to turn away instead of retorting as you always do. 

“Aww, really let my words get to ya, didn’t ya? I knew all along-” 

Before you can start running, Osamu grabs your arm and pulls you into the apartment, the other arm shoving Atsumu out. 

“Hey, ‘Samu!” 

“Shut the fuck up, ‘Tsumu. Now that my girlfriend’s here to spend the night, get out.” Osamu shuts the door in his face. 

Atsumu’s protests fall on deaf ears, the sound of Osamu referring to you as his girlfriend echoing in your mind. He had taken your side, chosen to take the course of action that would embarrass you to least despite not having confirmed what your intentions were. The thought fills you with hope. 

He pulls you further into the apartment, sitting you on the barstool. After situating you on the chair, he makes to step out of your personal space, but you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. Your eyes start to sting in frustration that Osamu could somehow believe that this was all just another incident you had orchestrated to get back at his brother. This has all gotten so hopelessly messy. 

“Osamu,” you sniffle into his neck. “I didn’t come over here and say all that because I knew Atsumu was listening. I just-” missed you. 

He rubs soothing circles into your back, gently enough to make you want to cry more because you don’t deserve this but want it so badly. 

“You just…?” he prompts. 

The words won’t come out and your tears soak into his shirt. You want to tell him so badly that you’re not crying to garner his sympathy; you’re crying because you’re so angry with yourself. 

Osamu patiently strokes your back, letting you cry before quietly telling you, “Oh, baby. How long do ya think we’ve known each other? I know yer not the type to set up this whole complicated scenario just to show up my stupid brother. I believe ya.” 

His other arm is now holding your head to his neck, fingers running lightly across your scalp. “So can ya finish what you were about to say for me?” 

His words and his actions do what they always do to you. They fill you with so much hope that there’s no room to mistaken his intentions. They fill you with the courage to tell him. 

“Missed you,” you whisper. 

Finally, both of his arms wrap around your back to push you tight into his chest. He squeezes, gentle enough to keep you safe but firm enough to tell you he wants you there. It pulls the confession out of you. 

“And I like you so much, Osamu.” 

He chuckles lightly into your ear. You can feel the vibrations echo in his chest. When you squeeze back, he trails his arms down to your legs to guide them around his waist. He carries you with ease to the couch and sits you down to cry in his lap. 

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like that for, but when you finally calm down, you keep your arms wrapped around him and quietly ask, “why did you do all this for someone like me?” 

He stops stroking your hair. 

“What, ya don’t like it?” 

You pull away to protest, already too comfortable with him spoiling you again, only to find the corner of his lips quirked up in a smirk. 

He’s teasing, you realize.

You smack his face weakly and wind your arms back around him. 

You snuggle back into his neck but he’s the one who pulls you back this time. 

“Hey, seriously though,” he says. “Is this okay?” 

You nod shyly. 

“I need to hear it, sweetheart.” 

“I want it.” 

“Alright. C’mere then.” 

You oblige. 

“Can I tell ya a secret?” he murmurs into your neck. 

You nod. 

“There isn’t a man out there who’d do all that for someone he doesn’t love, ya know that?” 

It makes you flustered, but much of what Osamu does does that to you. His tenderness makes you want to try harder to meet him in the middle. 

“Can I do something?” you ask, taking a leap. Your face is incredibly hot and your heart is beating embarrassingly loudly against his. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” 

It’s easy when he responds, “You can do anything ya want to me.” 

You intend for it to be an innocent peck, your form of an apology. But he holds the back of your neck, the other arm wrapped almost all the way around your torso and doesn’t let go until you’re panting against his open mouth. 

He’s nonchalant when he shrugs. 

“You can do anything ya want but I’ll be doing the same from now on.”

[moonswolfie]

When you lose your wedding ring

Ft. Various haikyuu boys🤭

decided to try my hand at these little texting scenarios hehe

KUROO, Osamu, Suna

Bokuto, LEV, Hinata

Iwaizumi, SUGAWARA, Aran

KITA, Ushijima, Akaashi

Tsukki, Oikawa, ATSUMU

[sugawarassoulmate]

who am i kidding, bully!osamu is also the kind of boyfriend/whatever that has a vice grip on your hand at all times

he says it's because you get too distracted whenever y'all are out

but reallys it's to deter other people from talking to you

some guy from your class tries to spark conversation about the most recent lecture? here's osamu pulling you away, barking that he doesn't wanna stay out too long

a "helpful" employee at the store you're in spends too long trying to assist you? "we're good," osamu says, practically materializing by your side as he drags you to the other side of the store

the easiest way to piss him off is by somehow getting out of his grip and wandering off or worse purposely removing your hand from his.

"the fuck?" osamu says, the second he can't feel the soft touch of your skin

he immediately yanks you back. "don't fuckin try that again," he warns.

"samu, i was just—" but he's not trying to hear your excuses. "wherever you go, i go"

in response to this post

[lowkeyremi]

A drabble based off Samu's part of this post cuz I miss little haruki

summary: haruki has to hang out with his uncle 'tsumu while his parents are at the hospital

Atsumu and Haruki have been staring each other down since Osamu dropped him off ten minutes ago. Haruki has seen his uncle 'Tsumu many times before, even on TV, but never has his uncle babysat him.

"So kid... what do ya wanna do?" Usually when Atsumu's with his nephew it's under the supervision of you or Osamu. Being completely alone with him is new to both of them.

"Um. I don't know, do ya have any toys?" Your carbon copy asks.

"Nah, I don't play with toys, I'ma grown man." He explains to his nephew. The small child doesn't like that response, "When I'm a grown up I'm gonna play with toys!"

Atsumu ultimately forgets that Haruki is a little boy with childish ideas, so he chuckles at his statement.

"No ya won't, kid."

"Yes I will!"

"No ya won't."

"Yes I wi-"

"Hey! How 'bout we play some volleyball, huh?" The blond athlete realizes there is absolutely no point in fighting with a six year old.

"I hate volleyball, it's boring." A loud gasp escapes Atsumu's lips and he feels like he's been shot right in the chest.

"Yer lying, right? Haha that was pretty funny, made me laugh." He refuses to believe that any nephew or niece of his would hate volleyball. He has to be joking...

"'m serious! Papa took me to a volleyball camp last year 'n I hated it! Everyone was so mean to me 'n they kept telling me I couldn't hold the ball for myself." Well, there's the problem. As a six year old everything is about you, you, you. So, Atsumu assumes Haruki didn't like it because he wasn't the center of attention.

"Let me tell ya a lil' something. I'm gonna go get a volleyball and I'll tell ya this story while we're outside." Haruki's obviously skeptical of what his uncle plans on doing but he'll go along with it for right now.

The little boy sets his Sonic themed backpack down by the front door, when he makes sure all his toys are secure in his bag, he slowly stomps his way to the sliding glass doors that lead to his uncle's backyard.

There's a net that's way too big for Haruki to hit anything over it outside, which immediately discourages him. Atsumu soon returns with a volleyball in his hands, Haruki would assume with all that money his uncle makes he'd have a nicer looking volleyball, but the one he's holding is all beat up and dirty.

"Are ya too poor to get a better ball?" Atsumu doesn't even take it to offense because he knows Haruki is genuinely curious and not trying to be rude.

"Nah, this ball is older than ya are. 's the ball me n yer papa used to use when we were first startin' out." That seems to ignite a new interest in the little boy, well, if his excited gasps were anything to go by.

"I'ma give it to ya so ya'll have somethin' to use when you play." This isn't enough to convince Haruki to play volleyball but Atsumu's not done just yet. He still has to tell him the story, but first they have to set up the small net, so Haruki can hit over it.

Atsumu opens up his shed to find the little beat up box that contained he and Osamu's old volleyball net from their elementary school days.

"Woah! That net is the perfect size for me!" His nephew screeches in excitement.

"Yeah 's also older than ya." The two set up the net and Atsumu teaches Haruki the form to receive. He tosses the small boy a few so he can get used to receiving.

"Okay, so, I wanted to tell ya that, volleyball ain't all about you, but at the same time it is," Haruki doesn't say anything in return. No little kid wants to hear that everything isn't about them.

"I had trouble understandin' that m'self when I was growin' up. I thought- nah I knew I was the shit so I acted prideful 'bout it." His nephew gasps at him saying a bad word, but he doesn't interrupt his story.

"'n I really don't care who likes me and who doesn't. I was like that back then too, so I never really had anyone besides 'Samu to play with. Which was fine when we were young, but in a real game, ya need six people." Haruki nods his head to let his uncle know he's listening.

"I had to realize that volleyball was a team effort 'n I couldn't play the whole game, m'self," He pauses for a second to bump the ball back the Haruki.

"That was also when I started to realize, it really was all about me, 'cause if yer a good setter all yer hitters gotta rely on ya. They need ya to set to 'em." Haruki pauses for a second.

"What if I don't wanna set? I wanna be a hitter like papa was." Atsumu smiles at him.

"It applies to hitters too, if yer a good hitter then yer setter will most likely set to ya the most often, 'cause ya can score." Haruki's eyes light up with a new sense of hope.

"Will you teach me more about volleyball, Uncle 'Tsumu?" Atsumu's earlier dread has completely left his body, his nephew didn't hate volleyball, he hated not being the center of attention, just like Atsumu did.

The two go back into the house when the sun is almost down. Haruki had learned so much from his uncle, and he was excited to show all of it to you and Osamu.

Atsumu goes to call his brother to realize that he had missed 4 calls from him and a few texts with pictures attached.

"Haruki! Hurry up 'n get in here! Yer sister is born!!" Haruki comes running in with his new (old) volleyball.

"Lemme see her!!!" He tries to grab his uncle's phone.

"Be patient, ya little gremlin." Atsumu pulls up the picture and hands his phone to tiny, grubby hands. You look very tired, but a small smile graces your face and you're holding a tiny little bundle in your arms. The next couple of pictures are Osamu holding his daughter too.

"Ew, why is she so wrinkly?" Atsumu tries and fails to hold in a chuckle. His nephew's face is all scrunched up and disgusted.

"'s 'cause she was just born. She's been swimming 'round in yer ma's belly for the past nine months. Kinda like how ya stay in the bath for too long and yer fingers start to get wrinkly." Atsumu explains, Haruki's not convinced, at all.

"Ya looked the same way when ya were born." Haruki shakes his head so fast Atsumu wouldn't be surprised if his head popped off.

"Nuh-uh. I was never wrinkly!" Atsumu is quick to go through his albums to find the one of Haruki's birth.

"Yea ya did, look." Haruki takes a good look at the picture before jumping up in surprise.

"EWWW I WAS WRINKLY!!!!" He starts running around like a crazy animal on the loose, screams leaving his lips.

Atsumu snorts, "We were all wrinkly babies at one point." The setter also learns how rewarding being an uncle is.

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[belleetoiles]

nsfw below the cut. minors dni. all characters 22+

content: afab!reader (but no pronouns used), cunnilingus, overstimulation, humiliation, rough sex, established relationships, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby)

your boyfriend is so mean.

you had only come to him because of a bad day. it was as simple as that: a craving for his warmth and comfort after experiencing misfortune today. it wasn't unnatural for you to climb into his bed with him at times like this, and he was always so welcoming and sweet.

he was evil in that way, luring you in with milk and honey pouring from his lips. promises to make you feel better — an ache only he can fix. he loved toying with you until you forgot about your woes, making sure to take his time having you fall apart beneath him.

he liked to bully you, teasing until your brain turned to mush and you couldn't do anything but ramble on and on about how much you need him. and when he finally rewards you with a dip of his fingers into your over-sensitive cunt, he nearly groans at how greedily you suck him in.

he is unceremonious in the way he eats you out, messy and embarrassingly loud. there's a stain of your arousal and his saliva pooling onto the bed right below him as it drips down his chin. the worst part is that he refuses to waste even a single drop, so he's hungrily lapping it all up much to your dismay and humiliation.

"look at you, makin' such a fucking mess right now. so filthy, sweetheart, such a pretty pussy..." you can't tell if he's trying to degrade or praise you for this, but the thought instantly dies in your mind when his palm delivers a harsh smack to your clit.

"gonna help you feel better baby. don't worry," he coos, and for a moment you think he's going to be gentle with you. but then he's inside, filling you so full that his name is the only thing on your lips.

he is deliberate in every movement, every press of his thumb against your most sensitive spot, the angle at which he fucks you. each sloppy rut of his hips drags another gaspy breath from you and it drives him crazy, somehow spurs him on even more.

he's your love — it's his job to make fuck you so rough that you don't have time to think about anything but him, just the way he likes it

blue lock: BAROU, sae, oliver, KAISER

haikyuu: OSAMU, tsukishima, ATSUMU, iwaizumi, ushijima

© BELLEETOILES 2023 — do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my work to other platforms.‏‏‏‏‎‏‏‎

[emmyrosee]

Outside, the rain pours like no one’s business, the wind howling in frustration as it mingles with the tinkering drops against your roof and windows.

You, luckily, are curled happily under your blanket, scrolling through your phone with a nice cup of tea next to you, enjoying the sounds of a storm in nothing but your own company.

Until-

“Ah. You’re home,” you hum, flicking your eyes up at osamu, then back to your phone. His arms are filled with reusable bags that dangle from the bulky muscles, two large palms cradling the milk, and the fluffiness of his hair lays flat to his head. His shirt is soaked, you hear the squish of his shoes, and you hate how cute the wet-dog aesthetic is on your man.

You hear him pant softly, “it’s. Wet. Outside.”

You chuckle and shake your head, reaching for your cup of tea, “yeah baby, that’s why I’m inside.”

“You could’ve helped your strong, smart, talented, amazing boyfriend with the groceries.”

“I offered, you said you “‘got this’,” you hum, secretly glad your boyfriends chivalry knows no bounds and he’d rather get drenched in the cold rain than risk you getting drenched in the cold rain.

But he is a Miya. He’s going to whine just a little bit.

You hear him place the groceries down, “but now I’m cold. And my shoes are wet. And I was lonely.”

You click off your phone and shrug off your blanket, making your way towards him. He smiles as you approach, and when you use a warm hand to move his hair off his forehead, he nuzzles into your touch.

“Thank you for getting the groceries,” you say, leaning up to press a kiss to his cold forehead. “Go take a nice hot shower, I’ll put them away.”

“I only bought a few frozen things, so you can join me in the shower.”

You giggle, “as tempting as that is, I’d really like you to warm up.”

He smirks and, before you can process, he scoops you up in his arms and throws you over his shoulder, his freezing shirt soaking you as you writhe and scream at the playful action. “Osamu!”

“Now you’re wet too. Come shower with me, and wash my hair.”

“You bought dairy,” you manage between titters, “I have to put it away.”

“So let’s put it away together. Then we can shower.”

“You’re so clingy!”

“Oh I’ll show you clingy.”

[kitashousewife]

“my back hurts,” osamu bends back, wincing with his eyes closed. it’s a saturday, post dinner rush, and he’s taking a break outside.

“maybe if you wore better shoes, you wouldn’t be bothered so much.”

your voice sounds distant through the phone speakers. his black high-tops kicks a pebble out of the way. very broken in, stained, and even a little ripped. he takes his hat off to rub his head before responding.

“but they match and look nice,”

“you can find nice, matching shoes with some support.”

osamu snorts. “those always look ugly,”

you laugh on the other line, and he grins. you groan, and hold the phone up closer to your lips.

“you’re a dork. we can look online later tonight, okay?”

“fine,” he sighs. he can hear the employees in the shop speaking louder, and he takes that as his queue to go back inside. “ya on yer way? yer favorite is the special tonight,”

he can feel you smile. “it’s the special every night. and yes, i’m only a couple blocks away.”

he pushes the back door open, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear as he puts his apron on again. he finishes the call and heads straight to the seating area to set your table up with the plastic reserved sign. like he does every saturday night.

he might even join you this time. just to rest his back, like he does every saturday.

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 31

breeding kink - miya osamu x reader

word count: 1512

A/N: so this is it! thank you so much for everyone who stuck around for this kinktober event. 31 fics in 31 days, its the biggest project i have ever done. thank u for all the love and support ❤️

kinktober masterlist

What is stopping you?

Your mind repeated the question in your head every day, and it felt like your brain was yelling at you in frustration and confusion, wanting to know why exactly you were tongue tied in this situation. It made no sense to wait anymore. The time was ideal.

Truly, there couldn't be a better time to bring it up. You were happy with your job, Osamu’s business was flourishing; he had just opened another Onigiri Miya in Tokyo. He had a good staff now, an organized system on how to manage it all. He didn’t have to be the only person worrying for the business anymore, since he had hired experienced managers. It allowed him enough breathing room to come home early, cook a nice, hearty dinner for you both that you enjoyed while sprawled on the couch in front of the TV. Money wasn’t a worry anymore.

So really, what was stopping you from bringing up the topic of kids?

You seemed to have become lost in the same thoughts again because you only came to when Osamu nudged you, making you blink and tear your eyes away from the TV screen. He was looking at you questioningly, and you could see a hint of worry behind his dark eyes.

“What’s on yer mind, doll?”

You shook your head and smiled, shrugging a bit. “It’s no big deal ‘Samu. Just a project at work.”

He hummed a little, shoving more noodles into his mouth and sparing you little glances as he did so. You knew he didn’t believe you. Your husband knew you too well to fall for such an obvious lie. But you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out how to broach the topic that was itching in the back of your mind for the last few days.

What do I even say? Put a baby in me?

You swallowed down the little knot that formed in your throat at the thought. Fuck. Was this turning you on? You grit your teeth tight enough that it hurt your jaw, scolding the little voice in your head to not do anything stupid.

When has your brain and lack of filter ever listened to you, though?

The next night, when Osamu had you sprawled on his lap, your back against his front, two fingers buried knuckles deep inside you and having pulled an orgasm out of you already, you babbled out the thought that had been plaguing you for many, many days.

“‘Sa- Samu,” you whined, long and desperate, dragging out his name. “Need your cock. Need your cum. Please.”

Osamu groaned in reply, pulling out his drenched fingers from your core and laying you on the bed. You pulled your legs up on instinct, spreading them wide, knees brought up to your sides. Osamu’s responding moan was sinful.

“S-shit, baby,” he breathed, clumsy hands quickly discarding his shirt and sweatpants. “Ya want it that bad? So ready to take me?”

You nodded your head frantically, back arching when he finally sunk his big, throbbing cock into you. The slide was comfortable and easy, considering how long you had spent spread apart on his fingers. Osamu wasted no time in immediately picking up speed, knowing exactly what spots to hit that had you reduced to a weepy mess.

You fumbled around until you had grabbed Osamu’s hands, hooking both of them under your knees and applying pressure. Osamu stared at you in realization before he shifted a bit and used his weight to hold your legs apart. You wanted him to put you in a mating press.

“This what ya want, sweetheart?” His voice was so hoarse you felt like you could cum just at the sound of it. “Fuck, ya look so sexy. All spread out fer me.”

Osamu was big on dirty talk, you knew. He loved speaking during sex and he loved when you spoke during sex. Over the years, you two had tried any and every thing in the bedroom that you possibly could, and you had lost all shame when it came to voicing your desires. The filthier, the better actually. Osamu could easily cum if you talked him through it.

Pair that with your days-old ruminating thoughts, and everything spilled out of you like word vomit.

“‘Samu,” you gasped. “Fuck me hard and deep, please. Please. Need to- need to be filled up with your cum, daddy. Need it.”

Osamu’s thrusts sped up and he cursed under his breath. “You’ll get it, babygirl. You’ll get daddy’s cum. Every last drop.”

You nodded frantically, crying out at a particularly well aimed thrust. “Yes! I- Osamu!” You wailed when his thumb made contact with your clit. Your nails dug into his back as you scrambled to pull him close. “Gimme. ‘Samu, gimme.”

Osamu was moaning into the skin of your neck, your legs over his shoulders and your body bent in half. “What’s gotten into ya today, baby? So greedy.”

You wound a hand through his hair, feeling the knot in your stomach pull tighter and tighter. You were seconds away from an orgasm. You pulled his head up by the hair until he was looking into your eyes. Your tears-coated, weepy eyes.

“Get me pregnant, Osamu. I want your kids.”

You didn’t have the time or the mental coherence to look at his reaction, because your orgasm washed over you like a freight train. Osamu’s movements stuttered, as a result of your words or you reaching your peak, you didn’t know. All you could do was feel the waves of electricity wash over you as you tried to breathe through the overwhelming feeling.

It was only when Osamu slowed to a stop in you, still twitching and throbbing, that you opened your wet eyes. He was looking down at you with mouth slightly open in shock, breathing still labored from his previous exertion. His dark hair was messy, stuck to the sweat on his forehead. All was silent between you.

“Are you serious?” He breathed, trying to see through your post-orgasm face. You nodded slowly.

“Thought about it a lot.” You admitted, tightening your legs around his waist a bit. “I’m ready if you are.”

A few more seconds, before Osamu bit his bottom lip and groaned, eyes falling to half mast again. He breathed deep, shaking his head. The corner of his mouth twitched up a bit.

“Do ya know how long I’ve waited fer this?” His voice was husky. He pulled himself up and unwound your legs from his waist. Then he bent you in half again, before setting a fast, bruising, brutal pace.

You gasped and threw your head back at the sudden change, pussy still sensitive from your orgasm, jaw going slack. His cock pounded into you with all the ferocity he could summon, one of the roughest sessions you two had had for a while, burning through you like embers crawling under your skin.

“Thought ‘bout it so much.” He continued choking out words, not slowing in the slightest. “The thought of ya all fat an’ swollen with ma kids. Fuck. Yer gonna look radiant.”

You moaned with him, picturing your pregnant belly, glowing face. Picturing a little human that you will birth. A human that Osamu could potentially put in you now.

“Daddy,” you whined. “Need…. I need- please.”

“Need what, baby?” Osamu had a little smirk on his face. His skin was flushed and damp, a drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face. His eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out his pupils. He looked feral.

“Need my load in ya? That it? Need ta take every last drop, yeah? Can’t risk wastin’ it.”

His hand came up, winding into your hair and tugging hard until you yelped.

“Take it, doll. Take it-”

His voice broke into a long moan as his hips stuttered and you felt warmth flood your insides, his bulging biceps trembling as he tried to hold his weight up through his orgasm. He was loud through it, coaxing you with rough words and even rougher fingers pinching your clit until you came one last time with a heaving cry, eyes rolling up into your head.

You had barely caught your breath when Osamu reached up to grip your face tightly with one hand, your cheeks squishing together. You stared at him with zoned out, misty eyes.

“Don’t ya dare waste a single drop.” He whispered so close that his lips brushed your puckered ones. “Keep it inside yer pussy like a grateful slut, ya hear me?”

You moaned in response, nodding weakly against his grip. He pulled out then and you clenched tightly, but you could feel it as a little bit trailed down your crack. Osamu hummed in disappointment, holding your legs open and watching as his cum leaked out.

“Poor baby. Couldn’t do it, could ya?” You felt him lean forward and brush a surprisingly soft kiss below your ear.

“I guess I’ll just have ta keep goin’ until I know yer pregnant fer sure.”

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy y @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[heich0e]

“Miya-san!”

Osamu’s head swivels towards the sound, and he spots you right away even though you weren't the one who called for him.

You’re a few metres down the road, sitting on a bench in front of a bustling restaurant, slumped over onto the shoulder of your junior who seems to be doing everything he can to keep your head tipped up against his arm. Kimura, the name Osamu had once been introduced to him as at one of the events your company held, has blushy cheeks when the older man approaches—he seems flushed due both to being flustered and a little tipsy, and the knot of his tie is loosened at the base of his throat.

“Kimura-kun,” Osamu greets him with a dip of his head as he approaches, his eyes scanning your seemingly sleeping face. “She asleep?”

“No,” you slur in reply, but your eyes stay closed. Osamu’s not certain it’s the truth, and even less certain you realize he’s the one who said it.

“I-it’s all my fault,” Kimura squeaks, looking increasingly like he might burst into tears. “They were trying to make me drink more, but Senpai kept switching out our glasses when the other section leads weren’t looking.”

“Yeah, that sounds like somethin’ she’d do,” Osamu replies with a fond but exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry for contacting you so late,” Kimura says, flinching as you slump away from him unexpectedly in your drunken stupor. Osamu is quicker to react than the younger man, stepping in and catching you in the crook of his elbow before you can go toppling off the bench onto the sidewalk. He keeps you steady.

“Don’t apologize, I appreciate ya callin’ me to come get her—and thanks fer lookin’ after her,” he says down to the younger man, who seems relieved now not to be responsible for keeping you upright. “Tell her to bring ya by the shop for a meal sometime as payback. She owes ya one.”

Kimura’s eyes widen and he shakes his head like he couldn’t possibly accept, but before he can decline the offer Osamu turns his attention back to you. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he gently pries you from your seat.

“Up ya go,” he mutters encouragingly as he eases you onto your feet.

Your eyes flutter slowly open, looking around blearily for a moment as you take in your surroundings.

“Samu?” you ask, his name slurred on your alcohol loosened tongue. You perk up noticeably in his arms once you realize just who’s holding you. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take ya home, Cinderella,” he says with a light laugh as your fingers twist into the material of his sweatshirt against his chest. He looks to Kimura again, who’s also risen to his feet now. “We’ll be off, then.”

“Thank you, Miya-san!” Kimura bows deeply forward, a nearly perfect 45 degree angle at his waist.

He’s a sweet kid, Osamu can’t help but think, even if does follow you around like a puppy.

Osamu helps you down the sidewalk towards his waiting truck, then up into your seat on the passenger’s side. He makes quick work of buckling you into your seatbelt even as you squirm counterproductively, then he jogs swiftly around to his own side of the truck and climbs in behind the wheel.

Kimura waves from outside the restaurant as the truck pulls away.

“Seems like ya had fun tonight,” Osamu remarks as he drives in the direction of your home. You hadn't even wanted to attend this work gathering, but had been forced to by your director. Now look where it had gotten you.

You’re fiddling with the controls of the radio, stations crackling in and out as you switch rapidly through the channels. 

“Drank too much,” you complain, settling on a talk radio station (of all things) that seems to be midway through discussing prefectural bylaws.

“Don’t I know it,” Osamu quips in reply and you swat at him harmlessly over the centre console with a laugh.

You’re turned in your seat, your body facing in his direction, watching him as he keeps his eyes on the road. He can feel your gaze tracing over him, but doesn’t glance back.

“Hey,” you whisper, something conspiratorial in your tone. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure thing,” he plays along with your antics, fighting back a grin.

It’s silent for a moment—only the voices on the radio discussing trash collection to be heard. Osamu pulls up to a red light, and finally looks over to meet your gaze.

Your eyes are glassy and a bit unfocused, but they’re bright with affection.

“I have a crush on you,” you tell him with a giggle.

Osamu’s chest pangs.

The light turns green.

“Well,” he remarks, returning his gaze to the road ahead and proceeding through the intersection. “That’s good.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees your shoulders slump dejectedly. 

“I’m being rejected,” your next words are positively morose. You turn away from him and lean your body over to the side. He hears a loud thump as your forehead head hits window on your right.

“Hey!” Osamu chides you in concern, reaching out and grabbing the collar of your blouse to tug you up a little straighter. It’s not the most elegant motion by any means, but he’s fairly limited with his other hand on the wheel and his eyes still on the road.

“Owww,” you complain, rubbing your forehead weakly. You bat the hand he has clutching the collar of your shirt away. “You’re so mean.”

“How’m I mean?” Osamu guffaws beside you.

“I just confessed my love for you, and all you had to say is ‘that’s good’!” You turn your body in your seat to waggle an unsteady but judgemental finger at him. “A woman’s heart is a precious, fragile thing, y’know!”

“There’s nothin’ fragile about ya,” Osamu mutters under his breath, thinking about how much you had to drink that night as a prime example of this fact. “Yer tough as a brick wall.”

“Mean!” you jeer at him again, your mouth agape in the wake of his words.

Osamu flicks his turn indicator on before he pulls his truck over to the curb, putting it into park. You’ve stopped outside a convenience store, and when he turns to look at you, the fluorescents from inside the shop bathe you in a backlit halo where you sit in the passenger seat.

He grabs your hand. The one you still have lifted to point at him.

“D’ya see this?” he asks, holding your hand up in front of your face. The ring on your fourth finger catches in the glow of the convenience store lights.

Your eyes widen.

Osamu holds up his left hand where there’s a ring that matches your own.

“I said it’s good y’got a crush on me ‘cause we’re married, dummy.”

Your lips form a surprised little ‘o’ as your eyes flicker rapidly from the band on your finger to his own and back again. 

After a moment you grin, your eyes squeezing shut with how high your cheeks lift. “What a relief!”

Osamu is quick inside the store, just popping in to buy a vitamin drink for you and a pack of cigarettes for himself. He doesn’t smoke as much these days—you’d nag him incessantly if he did—but every so often he gets a craving, and tonight is one of those instances. 

The two of you sit side by side on the curb in front of the shop, the truck parked a little ways down the road. 

Osamu takes a drag of his cigarette, sighing in contentment with wispy plumes of smoke slipping from his lips. He peeks over at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Ya feelin’ better?” he asks.

You’ve got the little bottle of vitamin drink cradled in your hands, working your way through it slowly. You hate the taste of them, he knows that, but you’d regret it more tomorrow morning if you didn’t force it down tonight. You nod a bit, and seem to have sobered up in the time since Osamu arrived to take you home.

“This reminds me of when we first started datin’” Osamu laughs to himself. And he means it. Everything about it. Being out so late. The taste of the tobacco on his tongue. The way you keep creeping a little bit closer to him unconsciously, as though his space isn’t already yours to freely take. “I can’t believe ya forgot we’re married.”

You groan in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

He bites back a grin, trying not to revel too much in your misery.

“And I’m sorry I made you come pick me up,” you mumble after a moment, taking another sip from the little bottle in your hand and wincing against the bitterness. “I planned to just take a cab.”

“It was that little junior of yours who contacted me,” Osamu laughs, lifting the cigarette to his lips and holding it there while he rifles in his pocket for his phone. He holds the device out so you can see the conversation where your subordinate had commandeered your phone, remorsefully messaging Osamu asking him to come and collect you from the bar. He’d even used a funny little sticker of a bunny with tears in his eyes bowing apologetically—it bears a striking resemblance to Kimura himself. 

“That kid,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly as you rub your temple. Your eyes suddenly widen and your face snaps towards your husband. “Wh—“

“Tsumu’s there watchin’ ‘em,” Osamu laughs, reaching up and plopping a hand down atop your head. “Not that there’s much to watch since they’re in bed. He was still at the house when Kimura-kun messaged me.”

You lean into Osamu's touch as you think of your twins at home, tucked up in the little bed they share, and it makes your heart ache a little bit. You wonder if you’ll be able to creep in and give them a kiss goodnight when you get home without waking them. 

You go terribly quiet for a moment, and Osamu finishes his cigarette. He stamps it out on the curb beside him and then slips the extinguished stub back into the pack to throw into an ashtray later.

“Samu?” you call to him, your voice quiet.

He glances over at you, and sees the way you’ve wrapped your arms around your knees. The anxious posture worries him.

“I didn’t forget you, I promise,” you whisper. “It’s just… sometimes I think this is all too good to be true.”

Your husband watches as you admire the ring on your finger that reflects the streetlight overhead.

Osamu smiles to himself, scooting closer to you on the curb.

“I know,” he reassures you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. Your head naturally falls to his shoulder. Familiar and instinctive. “I was just teasin’ ya.”

You smell like alcohol. He’s sure he smells like cigarettes. You're in rumpled business casual, and he's dressed in the sweats he planned to wear to sleep. He reaches over and takes your left hand in his own—your wedding rings overlapping. And for a moment, in spite of all the ways the two of you have changed over the years and all the ways that life is different now, everything is exactly how it’s always been.

He tilts his face and presses a lingering kiss to your temple.

‘I’ve got a crush on ya too, by the way.”