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#osamu x reader smut
forusomimiya · 11 months
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If he was already good at eating pussy and made you spill all over his mouth in less than two minutes, with a tongue piercing he will ruin you. The bastard will spend a lot of time torturing and overstimulating you. You'll spasm every time you cum, and your pleas for him to stop won't do any good, because he'll keep pressing your legs down to stimulate your clit until you're writhing on the sheets. He'll lay his tongue flat and lick all over your entrance, making you feel the cool little metal ball caress your soaking wet pussy until he makes it play on your clit again.
"Looks like daddy’s little doll likes my new toy huh? I can't wait for you to see the rest".
A small metal rod with balls at the ends at the base of his cock and a semicircle at the tip adorned his long, thick cock. Sensitivity was no excuse for riding him as soon as he showed it. You felt the piece at the tip touch your weak spot and the one at the base touch your hole with every ride. You couldn't wait to use your tongue to play with them.
SUNA, TERUSHIMA, kageyama, KUROO, kita, osamu, SAKUSA, asahi, iwaizumi
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doingitforbokuto · 9 months
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haikyuu boys and their kinks pt. 3
-> other parts
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-> MIYA OSAMU
a/n: I decided to write small drabbles for each of the kinks instead of just doing headcanons so lmk which one is better!
-> nudes / filming
Osamu's in his car, in the dark driveway in front of your shared apartment. His day has been long and stressful and he wants nothing more than hold you and go to sleep. But you went out with your friends, leaving him all alone. He doesn't want to wait for you to come home tonight to see you - and he doesn't have to. 
His phone screen comes to life and so does his cock in his pants. The anticipation of what he knows is coming is making his breath speed up and his blood rush to his abdomen. Quickly, his fingers find their way through his home screen, his camera roll all the way to his favorite video. He undoes his pants and pulls his half hard cock out, stroking it as he starts the video. 
Immediately, your moans and whines fill the small space of his car. It's the first video you ever let him take of you, so it's shaky and short but it's the best. It never, ever fails to get him off. The camera pans over you ass, pushed up high towards him like the good girl you are while your scrunched up face is down on the sheets, mouth wide open and eyes unfocused. Osamu groans at the familiar sight and instantly starts fisting the tip of his cock. The camera starts focusing on his cock pushing in and out of your obscenely wet pussy, darting back and forth between your face and your ass. How he loves seeing you like this. 
He loves hearing your moans and babbles as he fucks you so good you can't focus on anything. He loves knowing that you send him and let him take videos of you like this, so open and vulnerable. He loves knowing that this sight is for him and him only. It never takes him long to spill his load when he watches this - or any - video of you getting fucked by him (or fucking yourself for him) and it doesn't take long for him to do so now, either. 
He sits there, still panting, in his car as he closes his eyes for a moment and stops the video absent-mindedly. Once he is done catching his breath, he switches from his camera roll to the camera itself. With a quick flash, he takes a picture of his still throbbing, hard cock covered in his own cum. Maybe he'll get you to come home quicker after all. 
-> quickies
A big, warm hand comes up to cover your mouth and muffle the whine threatening to spill out of it. 
"So good to me, hm?" Osamu pants as he keeps drilling his cock into you. "Always makin' sure I'm taken care of." 
He had forgotten his lunch at home. Of course, he could always just make himself something from the food he has at his restaurant but since you had nothing to do today anyway, you decided to spare him the work and bring him his lunch over. The restaurant is supposed to open in just a few minutes, but Osamu can't bring himself to let you go without giving you a proper "Thank you". His version of doing that is just this - fucking you mercilessly on the table in his office over the restaurant, keeping your mouth covered so you don't moan loud enough for his poor waitress to hear you downstairs, both of your clothes pushed barely out of the way to let him slide into you.
"Let me make ya feel good, yeah?"
All you can do is nod dumbly against his hand still covering your mouth. His other hand sneaks down your body until his fingers find your clit. Osamu knows just how to touch you, how to make you fall apart under his touch and cum all over his cock and fingers. 
"So sweet," he's panting above you, "poor clit was just begging for me to touch it, yeah?" 
You whine against his hand and screw your eyes shut as you start feeling tears forming. It's too much, too good. 
"I know, I know.. always so sensitive.. gonna cum for me soon, hm?" He starts rubbing his fingers against you, drawing the patterns he knows you love. 
You can't hold back anymore and just like he says, you cum way sooner than you planned to. You want to draw it out, but Osamu loves knowing that he can get you off so quickly, he loves that he knows you well enough to make you come undone within minutes and he loves fucking you right before he goes to work - it just makes his day a bit brighter and his work flow a bit easier. 
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natriae · 7 months
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the miya divide is atsumu whines during sex and osamu groans
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a-kaash-me-outside · 2 months
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a bit dirty - ch6
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in which you hook up with osamu in a club bathroom and that's just the beginning. prev | ch6 [masterlist]
// a really great idea ~ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ~ 7392 ᴡᴏʀᴅs
a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni nsfw, squirting, sex in a bed!!, a lot of feelings and love!!!!, intimacy in more than just the bedroom fr, names names names pet names a million pet names, oral f!receiving, afab she/her pronouns
tori talks: oh good god guys we're finally here. thanks to everyone who is going to read this last chapter even though it literally took me over 6 months to write it. i hope you enjoy it and i'm glad it's over and that it happened. ily all. hope u enjoy. ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡
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you’re not sure you’d admit it to anyone, but walking into osamu’s apartment for the first time feels like coming home after a long day at work. you can see yourself here, more than you can in your own apartment or your childhood home. you feel just a little bit more like yourself, shoulders relaxing in a way that you didn’t think they needed to, breath a tiny fraction steadier. you’re not sure you’ve felt this comfortable in a really long time. 
you don’t have to ask him where to put your shoes or where to hang your jacket, and he doesn’t take them from you either. he doesn’t put them away for you or tell you to hang them on the hangers in the empty closet down the hall. 
when he unlocks his door and pushes inside, you mimic his motions, placing your shoes gingerly on the rack to the right of the closet between his white sneakers and black work shoes, hanging your jacket on the empty hooks above the spot where you've just retired your shoes. 
stepping deeper into his apartment, he offers a small, “so, welcome,” he says, gesturing to the living room, one hand softly wrapped around yours as he tugs you along. stepping past the barrier of the front door, further into osamu’s space, you don’t feel like a guest here. you just feel like you belong.
“oh my god, it’s so clean in here,” you say, a few paces ahead of him now, but he refuses to break contact, to let go of your fingertips so he walks quickly along with you. 
“well, yea, i’m not really ever home,” he explains, shrugging, as you walk around his living room eyes stopping at the neatly organized coffee table with cork coasters and a yellow hard-covered book titled this book will make you kinder, at the photos on his wall of him and his brother and him and his restaurant and him and suna, at the plants in the window sill and the dustless, dirtless ledge beneath them. 
you shake your head, “no, that’s not true. you come home after work and you’re here before you leave for work, and i’m sure you’re super busy leaving in the morning and super tired when you come home at night, so it’s really impressive that it’s really clean.”
he lets out a half-laugh, a breathy light scoff in the place of a real response. you turn around, looking at him directly with a mischievous look on your face, “unless you cleaned your apartment just for me tonight?”
osamu’s quiet, a very telling silence, a wordless admittance. “oh my god!” you say, hands on your hip, and the slight hold that he has on your fingertips isn’t broken yet, his hand now pressed against your side, fingers curling around your hip as he pulls you a little closer.  
“okay!” he admits, “so i am pretty tidy anyways, but there may have been a few dishes in the sink and the bed might not have been made and the couch cushions didn’t look that good before but-”
you shake your head, clicking your tongue, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you tease, “how presumptuous of you that i would come back here after our date?” 
“i didn’t think we’d just fuck in the bathroom again, baby, what was i supposed to do, you literally said-” he says, trying to explain himself, unstoppable smile on his face as he pulls you even closer to him.
“do you think i’m that kinda girl? to just fuck you on the first date?” you ask, palm flat against his chest now, the other hand snaking up to lazily drape around his neck.
he shakes his head, wrapping his arms around you tight around your arms and shoulders, holding you in place as he laughs so deep that it sends tingles and shivers down your spine and skin. “you’re very funny, y’know that?” he asks, squishing you against his chest as he presses kiss after kiss into the top of your head. 
“you made the bed? fixed the couch cushions? samu, i mean, really, what did you think was going to happen tonight?” you giggle, emphasizing every other word dramatically as you squirm in his tight grasp.
“i mean,” he says, leaning back to look at the warmth on your face, the fluster that lies with it, “you are here, aren’t you? i couldn’t have been that wrong if the cleaning paid off.”
you giggle harder now, leaning up and pressing a kiss into wherever you can reach in his strong hold. “i sure am,” you agree. he loosens his grip, hand falling down your arm to thread his fingers with yours again. he pecks a small kiss against your lips and then your cheek. 
“you sure are,” he says, warmly. 
you really could’ve stayed in the middle of his living room forever surrounded by couches and books on shelves and an impressive entertainment system. you didn’t need any of it either, didn’t need a place to sit or things to keep you busy, you’d be really happy just staring at osamu for the rest of time, at hearing him laugh, at feeling his pulse in your palm.  
“can i getcha a drink?” he asks, pulling you out of this mellow, love-struck state in the name of hospitality. 
“only if i can come with you,” you say, looking over his shoulder into the kitchen. your motivation is 70% wanting to stay with osamu and 30% wanting to see what his kitchen looks like: what kind of mugs he has, where he keeps his silverware, if his knives and pans are on display or tucked away in cabinets.
“clingy,” he teases, smile huge because there wasn’t any way that he was leaving you alone for even a second. 
“fine! i'll stay in here,” you pout. 
he doesn’t respond, only laughs and pulls you by the hand, “come on, pretty.”
you don’t protest anymore, following along happily into the kitchen, forcing yourself to sit on the barstool in front of the bar rather than snoop in his cupboards and drawers. he’s hesitant to let his touch fall from yours, to let go of the contact he has on your hand and your hip, but he does, presses a small kiss into the side of your head, and walks deeper into his kitchen.
from here you can see the kettle on the counter and the knives on a metallic strip above the black countertop. the pans are nowhere to be seen. they must be hidden away somewhere safe. you don’t say anything and neither does he as he pulls wine glasses and mugs and cups out of the cupboard and places them on the countertop in front of you. 
and you still don’t feel like a guest. 
it feels like osamu getting you a drink is because he loves you, like you could get up and get your own if you wanted to, like you already knew where the tea bags were and the spoons and the shelf that the sugar resided, like next time you would return the favor, let him sit down for a minute while you made the two of you tea or poured another glass of wine. 
“what’s it gonna be?” he asks, gesturing to your choices on the bar in front of you.
“y’know you could’ve just asked me that before pulling out all the cups?” you tease, eyes moving from cup to mug to wine glass. 
he shrugs, “not as visual.”
“what are you in the mood for?” you ask, reaching to pick up the mug, black ceramic with a gray stripe along the base. you turn it over in your hand, running your fingers along the matte texture. yeah, this feels like a mug osamu would own. 
“anything, really,” he says, smiling before the rest of the flirt even comes out of his mouth, “as long as i’m drinking it with you on my couch, i will be very happy.”
you roll your eyes. it’s really unfair how predictable, yet how adorable, he is when it comes to things like that. “alright, how about wine now, tea later?” you ask.
he rests both of his hands on the edge of the counter for a moment, nodding as he does, removing the cups from the counter and pushing the mugs towards the tea kettle. “sounds like a plan, angel,” he says, disappearing behind the pantry door and coming back with a bottle of wine. 
he doesn’t recork the wine or put the bottle back, leaves it exactly where he sets it on the counter in a rush to just drink wine on his couch with you. he carries your glass for you as he guides you back to the couch. 
sitting on the plush, perfectly set cushions, tucking yourself into the corner against the arm rest, osamu pressed up against you, pulling your legs over the tops of his, his hand resting comfortably on your calf, you’re not sure you’ll ever really be ready to go back to your own cold, lonely apartment. when you close your eyes, you can see this moment next week and next month and three years from now. 
your first glass of wine isn’t even finished before he interrupts your current conversation of favorite movies and media with a stupidly cute, nervous question, “so, can i ask you now?” 
you want to be stunned or at least fake it, but you can only lean closer into him, setting your wine glass down on the coaster on the coffee table to wrap both of your arms around his bicep. “ask me what?” you tease.
he shakes his head, “y’know that night i thought you were so out of my league.”
you lean backwards, mouth agape, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, “no fucking way.”
“swear,” he laughs, leaning forward to set his glass down next to yours, “and i was out of my depth, had no idea what i was doing, just couldn’t stop staring at you-”
“oh, i know,” you say, recalling his smitten, lingering stare so perfectly that your face feels warm, “every time i would look over in your direction you would be looking at me like this.” you mimic your recollection as best as you can.
he puts his face in his hands. “that’s so embarrassing,” he says, and it’s muffled by his palms. you wrap your hands around his wrists, pulling them away from his face and kissing the backs of them.
“no, no, it was cute,” you say, but he still groans. you continue, “samu, i was into it, obviously.”
he explains further, “sumu was like shoving me over there so blatantly that i almost didn’t go over there.” he shakes his head at the memory, at the alternate universe where his stupid brother alone failed to start the best chain of events of his life. “and then omi leaned over to me and was like, ‘i'll distract your dumbass brother, go have a good night, you deserve it.’” 
“remind me to thank him then,” you say, softly, shifting against the couch to lean against his shoulder instead of the armrest. 
“will do,” he says, smile in his voice as he snakes his arm around your waist, hand resting on the side of your thigh. “i’ve thanked him plenty for both of us, but it might mean more coming from a new mouth.”
“you just say the most romantic things like it’s nothing,” you say.
“i don’t try,” he admits, “just hard not to be romantic when i’m with you.” he reaches across you with his other arm, pulls you further into his lap until both of your knees are on either side of his thighs and you’re facing him. “sorry,” he mumbles, “wanted to look at ya.”
“you’ve gotta be doing this on purpose,” you whisper. 
his fingers scrape against the tops of your tights before rooting on your hips. he shakes his head. “it’s all you, really,” he whispers back. “these thoughts just come into my mind and i say them. love you so much, you make it easy.”
you’re very grateful for this position because it’s effortless to lean down and crash your lips into his, to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him deeper into the kiss, to feel his chest lift to kiss you harder. he tastes like expensive wine and a little bit like you still and you might cry, he’s just really perfect. 
he places his hand on your shoulder, holds you in place as he leans back into the couch. the pout is already forming on your lip, so he runs his thumb across it gently. “will you be mine?” he asks, adding before you’ve even answered, “let me love you with labels.”
“oh my god, samu, you’re going to kill me, y’know that?” you say, hands cupping both of his cheeks before kissing him sweetly. “how do you expect me to keep up with this?”
“just say yes,” he says, quickly, “that’s enough for me.”
“of course,” you say, forehead resting gently against his, kiss placed on his nose and then the high of his cheekbone. you repeat it again just in case he missed it the first time, “of course.”
“i’m sorry that i didn’t make this happen sooner,” he says, soft sigh accompanying his remorseful tone.
“stop that,” you hush him.
“i mean it,” he says, sitting up into you a bit more, “if i would’ve figured my shit out sooner, we could’ve been doing this for months.”
“yeah, but you don’t know if everything would’ve turned out the same way,” you say, bringing your hands up into his hair, “if that would’ve been too soon or if we needed to go through all we went through to be as strong as we are now, there’s no way to know, really.”
he smiles at you, not opening his mouth to say anything, just soaking in the moment, humming at your astute thought. you continue, “i guess i just mean that, yea, getting more time with you would’ve been great, but we can’t do anything about that. so i’m just really glad to be with you now, here, drinking wine and sitting in your lap and kissing you.”
“and you say i’m the romantic,” he murmurs, kissing you once more. 
“you are,” you argue. 
/\ /\ /\
neither of you even finish your first glass of wine. even if you had, there was no way the two of you were untangling from each other and making your way into the kitchen for another, not in the middle of unimportance conversations about your thoughts on christmas lights or osamu’s thoughts on the type of pet he’d like to have one day. 
but as the hours tick on, as the clock hands droop lower and lower, osamu knows that you need some sort of transition period to staying the night. “cup of tea before we go to bed?” he asks, head resting against the back cushion of the couch staring into your eyes with as much love as he can.
“are you being presumptuous again, samu?” you tease, but your eyelids are getting heavier and you can’t put a lot of effort into the taunting. 
“i’m sorry, princess, do you want to stay the night?” he asks, gut-wrenchingly sincere. 
“i would really love that, yea,” you say, flustered in the backfiring of your banter, “and tea sounds really nice too.” 
he nods, once, short and happy, ready to move you off of his lap to go get the two of you a final drink before bed, but you get off of him first. “i’ll get it,” you offer, waiting with bated breath for him to fight you on it or to be weirded out by the forwardness of raiding his kitchen to feel the domesticity a little harder.  
he doesn’t protest at all, lets the smitten, lingering stare last for a few moments before saying, “only if i can come with you.”
before you’ve made it to the kitchen with osamu in tow, he stops you, plants in place in front of the hallway to his bedroom, and nods towards it. “but first, can we get you into some comfier clothes?” he asks. “nighttime tea tastes better when you’re in comfy clothes,” he reasons. you can’t disagree. 
you follow him down the hall to his room. you don’t get a good look at his plainly decorated room or the nicely made bed as you wait in the doorway. he returns quickly with a t-shirt of his. “you can change in the bathroom across the hall if you want,” he offers.
“you know you were inside of me in a fancy restaurant bathroom hours ago, right?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, pushing past him into his room and taking off all of your date clothes. osamu folds them neatly as you set them on the bed. when he picks up your torn tights, he can’t hold back his small laugh. 
“oh yea, so funny,” you joke, “you can probably throw those away.”
“but they’re perfectly good for having sex in public bathrooms,” he jokes back. 
you pull his shirt over your head, soft cotton taking the place of going out clothes and the difference is already lulling you to sleep. you’re determined to make osamu tea, but you can’t promise most of the cup won’t go cold on the counter.
it doesn’t take long for osamu to be on you, arms wrapped around your waist, hands roaming over your body, “you look so good right now.”
“shut up,” you say, pushing him away with the least amount of resolve anyone has ever had, “imagine how i feel looking at you wearing stuff like this.”
“you look better in it than i do,” he says, shaking his head. 
“not possible,” you say back.
he leans down to kiss you once before reluctantly pulling away, walking back over to his dresser to change into comfier clothes as well. if you weren’t so stupidly tired, seeing osamu shirtless and in super casual sweatpants would’ve been the perfect catalyst for your first night together having sex in a bed.
tea. sleep. tea. sleep. tea. sleep. you remind yourself.
“c’mon, angel,” he coaxes, pulling you by your hand back down the hallway and into the kitchen. he leans against the countertop, doesn’t say another word or try to make you tea despite your earlier statement. 
you start the kettle with the push of a button, pull the mugs from across the counter in front of you. you pluck two tea bags from the glass jar where they live. you have to open a few cupboards before finding the spoons, but the sugar is right where you think it will be. 
“i think knowing that you take sugar in your tea is both the most surprising thing and also somehow completely aligns with who you are,” you reason, pouring the gently boiling water over the tea bags. by the time you finish your sentence, you’ve noticed the enamored look on his face, but you don’t have time to comment on it as he replies. 
“that’s because you know me really well,” he says, nodding, loving smile still lingering. you put half of a spoonful of sugar into the cup, stir until it dissolves and then slid it against the countertop to him. he wraps his fingers around the warm cup, brings it to his lips, blows on it gently as if that’s going to do anything at all, and then takes the smallest sip. “perfect.”
you lean against the edge of the counter, holding the mug in your hands, waiting for the air to cool down the steaming beverage. “i think i’d be really okay with ending every single day of my life just like this,” you admit. if his eyes go wide or he recoils even the smallest percentage, you’ll blame it on the eventful day and the exhaustion that’s quickly overcoming you, but they don’t. his features soften, hand reaches across the counter to rub the back of your hand. 
“me too,” he reciprocates. “you’ll have to stay over more often,” he doubles down. 
“what?” you ask, taking a sip of your tea. you can feel the warmth hit your stomach. “have dinner ready for you when you come home and spend your nights off intertwined on the couch?” everything that you’re saying is getting closer and closer to practically asking to move in, but osamu doesn’t seem to mind. 
“exactly that,” he murmurs, “you’ll have to see if you like my bed first, though, before you resign yourself to coming over every night.”
“every night?” you ask, cheeky smile the only form of teasing that you’re giving right now, “maybe we should go check it out then.” you take one more sip of your tea and then set the cup down on the counter. osamu doesn’t even do that, pulls you away from behind the counter and down the hall. 
you climb into his bed, under his covers without asking or another mention. osamu joins you, climbing into the other side, and the two of you don’t waste a single second, curling up against each other, limbs lazily tangling, pressing up against one another as close as you possibly can. 
“the first time we’re in a bed together and we’re not even having sex,” he says, softly, reaching over and turning off his bedside light. it takes a few moments for your eyes to get adjusted, to make out the shapes of his face in the dark. 
“crazy, right?” you ask, smiling as you snuggling into his chest impossibly closer. 
“i like this though,” he admits, traces his fingers up and down your arms, “just being in bed with you, falling asleep with you, means i get to wake up with you.”
you hum at his voice, soft and deep, and the darkness looks the same as it does with shut eyes, but you’re trying your best to not let the sleep take you that fast. “can you keep me awake?” you ask.
“you’re literally falling asleep as we speak,” he says, your eyelids fluttering shut as if to make a point. you shake your head, but you don’t say anything else. “why do you want me to keep you awake, babygirl?”
“cause i wanna be in this moment a little while longer,” you reason, breath taking over your voice as the darkness and warmth pull you into a comforting hug.
“we’ll have plenty of time for moments like this later,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “plenty of time, so go to sleep, angel.”
you’re not even embarrassed at how quickly you listen to him.
/\ /\ /\
if last night wasn’t enough to convince you that you were exactly where you needed to be for the rest of your life, waking up in osamu’s arms definitely was. they’re strong around you, wrapped tightly around your waist, nose nuzzled into the back of your neck, legs intertwined with yours. 
you’re incredibly surprised that you’ve woken up first, but the second that you start to stir, osamu’s grip loosens, and his head peaks over your shoulder and he places a small kiss on your cheek. “mornin’,” he says, raspy as he talks off the sleep. 
you turn in his arms, laying flat on your back so you can look at him directly. “good morning,” you say back, lifting your head to kiss him. “very good morning,” you say again. 
“cute,” he murmurs against your lips, “stupidly cute.” you reach your arms up, draping them over his neck loosely to pull him down into you. “do you want breakfast or something?” he asks.
you shake your head, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “no,” you say, “well, maybe later? i think right now i just want, y’know, this.” you gesture with a small nod not really towards anything in particular, just to the situation.
he laughs, kissing the side of your face, “alright, this it is.”
you don’t say much else. nor does he. it’s all stolen kisses and roaming touches and silent exchanges. you don’t feel the need to talk, don’t have much to say, you’re communicating just fine without them. 
every touch is getting needier, every kiss is getting longer, sloppier, more desperate, and the only thing that you’ve been able to think about for the last hour is all of the promises that have been made to you about after date things. 
it doesn’t help that he’s on top of you now, tops of his thighs resting between your legs, hands on either side of your waist just looking at you like that. the first thing you say in over an hour is, “what, samu?”  
he laughs, pushing his fingertips up your body, under the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and up until your entire stomach is exposed. “god, you’re so hot,” he says, grabbing onto your waist to pull you closer to him. 
“samu,” you whine. 
“what, doll? it’s true,” he says, pushing your shirt up even further now, tits on display so pretty that you can feel him begin to grow hard against your inner thigh. “so pretty,” he murmurs. he tugs your shirt off, tosses it to the side with no regard for the tidiness of his room anymore. 
you’ve really never been this exposed before when you’ve had sex with osamu, always an article of clothes on, but now the only thing stopping you from being completely naked is the thin fabric of your panties and osamu’s fingers are already hooked in the waistband. you don’t protest as he drags them down your thighs, picks up your legs and rests them on his shoulder as he does. 
he presses a kiss into the side of your leg, slowly drops them back around him. your stomach is in knots, can barely breathe with the way that he’s looking at you, eyes traveling down your body so slowly that you can see each point that they linger a second longer.
“fuck, you look good,” osamu says, leaning down to kiss your shoulders, your collarbones, your chest.
“shut up,” you murmur, fingers threading into his hair, scratching against the back of his head as he scrapes his teeth against your sensitive skin.
“no, i’m serious,” he says, leaning back, “you’re so fucking pretty, gorgeous actually.”
“ew, shut up,” you push him away jokingly, gently, “or i’m not going to let you fuck me unless we’re fully clothed ever again,” you joke.
he laughs against your neck, breath and vibrations tickling the wet skin. every single kiss feels personal, hand-crafted and perfectly thought of just for you. the placement is direct and purposeful and you can feel his love in every single one. 
“god, i’m going to take my time with you,” he says, pulling away again. you can feel the blush blooming under your skin, warming up every inch of you, igniting fires in your stomach.
“first time that we have a lot of it,” you joke, coaxing him back up to your lips. “and first time that i don’t have to be situated on a sink or the floor.”
“so you’ll be perfectly comfortable,” he says, kisses trailing between your tits and down your stomach, “while i eat you all morning long.”
“samu,” you say, crook of your elbow rising up to your face to hide behind it. he reaches up, pulls it away from your face. 
“don’t hide from me, doll, look so cute like that,” he says, laying between your thighs, pushing them open with familiar hands. you give in to the gentle pressure so easily that you swear you hear the faintest laugh coming from Osamu, but the light kisses peppering your thighs that follow gain your focus instantly. 
it should feel agonizing, the way he takes his time dragging his lips across every part of the skin between your legs, kissing and biting lightly. but the longer he’s there the more laughter flutters through your chest, the more your cheeks flush, the more loved you feel. you bring your hands to his face as he rests his head against your knee cupping one under his jaw and using the other to push his hair back a little. 
“make me feel so pretty, samu,” you mumble. he makes no attempt to answer, just holds your gaze with loving eyes as he brings himself to ghost near your already soaked pussy, the feeling his breath overwhelming any of your other senses. 
“just want you to see yourself through my eyes, princess.” the end of his sentence comes with a long, slow swipe of his tongue against your hyper sensitive clit and it feels good to finally not worry about who can hear you. 
you dig your head back into the pillow, hair already a mess after a perfectly restful night’s sleep. you can feel his eyes burning into you, even if you can’t see them, even if your focus is really anywhere but the agonizing feather-like touches between your legs.  
it’s a shame, you think, but only for a moment, that his mouth is so busy that you can’t hear him call you pretty names or poke fun at you for whining so much. only for a moment. 
if there’s one thing that osamu cannot be called it’s all-or-nothing. osamu doesn’t do all-or-nothing; he does slowly, consistently, comfortably, and then all. this is no exception. he runs his tongue between your puffy lips, smears your juices all over your sensitive pussy with the tip, and then he eats you- not like a man-starved, but like a man who he gets to indulge in his favorite dessert. 
his fingertips are digging into the fat of your hips, palms pressing to keep you in place, to keep you from squirming, and it’s working. he lets you scratch your nails into his hair, down the back of his neck, resting on the tops of his shoulders. you don’t guide him, don’t buck your hips impatiently, you don’t need to. if he isn’t lapping exactly where you want him to, you know he will be soon, you know it’s deliberate, you know that he knows what’s best for you even if you have to wait for it. 
you’re not sure you know how many times you come on his tongue, how many are attributed to just his tongue and how many are attributed to the noises that he’s making, the grunts that are coming from his throat, the mumbled praises that he’s whispering against your soaked folds, the squeaking of the mattress from the soft grinding that he’s doing against the blankets. 
without a watch, you’d have claimed you were there for hours, all morning, just like he said. you’re not sure if he would’ve stopped either, if you hadn’t sat up on your forearm, somehow more out of breath than he was, and tugged on his hair. “samu, baby,” you whine. 
you can’t help it, the even-more-breathless-breathlessness that hits you when he looks into your eyes, bottom of his face soaked with you, licks his lips, wipes the rest of it with his palm, and crawls slowly up to meet you. he kisses you hard, as hard as you’ll let him, and then he kisses you again, and then he kisses your cheek, and then your jaw, then your neck, mumbles against your skin, “what do you want now, bunny?” he’ll give you anything. “i’ll give you anything.” you know that he will. 
the opportunities are endless. the world is your oyster. anything that you ask for, he will give you, and it will be wrapped with neat paper and a pretty bow with a handwritten note several miles long. you swallow, eyes searching his face for nothing in particular, just because he’s pretty and because he’s yours. 
“i don’t think i have anything to ask for, because you’re already mine,” you whisper.
his face lights up, skin hot and flushed on the highs of his cheeks and traveling down his neck and chest. for a second it looks like he short-circuits, like you’ve broken him just by telling him the truth, and then, in a second, the world catches back up to him. 
he shakes his head slowly and then you’re on top of him, sat with both legs on either sides of his, strong hands steadying you before you can even clock that you need to be steadied. “you’re really asking for it, huh?” he asks, and now you’re feeling warm.
“i- what are you talking about, samu,” you say, eyebrows furrowed. you can feel his hips- and yourself- lift off the bed as the fabric between the backs of your thighs and the tops of his is replaced with soft skin. you yelp softly as you’re lowered back down, hands on your inner thighs pushing you back just enough for his cock to rest between them. 
you’re soaking wet, making a mess between your lips and on the insides of your legs and now all over his hard cock, slowly pushing through your pressed together thighs. he brings his hips off the bed, steady thrusts rocking the mattress ever so slightly, both his hands squeezing the outsides of your thighs. he clicks his tongue, “saying shit like that, angel, you know i’m not going to be able to help myself.”
“samu,” you repeat, breathless. “what ar-.”
he cuts you off, sliding his thumb from the tip of his cock to the base, his leaking head slipping between your messy lips until it’s teasing your hole. “sound so in love with me, baby, need to fucking feel you around me so fucking bad right now,” he breathes, sharp inhale punctuating his sentence as he pulls you by your hips until you’re fully seated on his cock. 
you don’t know if the warmth is coming from the blush or touch of his skin or the desire that’s burning in your core, but it’s there, and before you can even fully register what he’s saying, he’s honest-to-god whimpering, spouting more lovey bullshit, “god, it’s like falling in love with you made you fit even more perfectly around me.” he lifts you slightly, fingers digging into your hips as he lets you slowly fall back down onto his cock. 
he tilts his head into the pillow, but immediately picks it back up, locking eyes with you before letting his gaze fall down your body, like he can’t believe you really exist, like he can’t believe he let himself relax into a position where he couldn’t see you at all times, like he “can’t believe you’re fucking real,” he grunts, “and that you’re all fucking mine.”
“osamu, if you don’t knock it off,” you say. you’re only half-joking. you’re not sure that you could take him talking to you like this for much longer. you feel so full, every part of you feels so full. you slide your hands down his chest, palm against his rapidly beating heart acting as leverage as you start moving in time with him.
you close your eyes, partially to focus on the parts of you that are on fire right now, and partially so that you don’t have to keep looking at how much osamu is looking at you. he can’t keep his hands off of you, can’t keep his eyes off of you.
“can’t help it, pretty, not when i get to savor it like this,” he says, brings his chest up and wraps his arms around your back, holding you securely to him. he kisses the side of your face, whispers in your ear, “not when i finally get to fuck you in my bed and tell you that i love you and see you- all of you.” 
“are you trying to make me cry or something?” you ask, placing both of your hands on either side of his face, forcing his attention on just your eyes and the hints of shyness strewn all over your face. 
a slight smirk is followed by raised eyebrows and a tiny kiss to the temple. osamu flips you over, lying you gently on your back while you’re still fully encompassing him. “that can be arranged, puppy,” he says, kissing down your neck, nipping at your shoulders and chest. he slams his hips into you and you can’t help the pleasured, high-pitched moan that comes as a result. in fact, you can’t help the ones that come one after another after another as he keeps snapping his hips, insides of your thighs growing raw from the impact.
you’re babbling at this point, a symphony of half-finished words and tiny whimpers, and when a single tear breaks free of your blurred waterline, osamu can’t hold back. “fuck, holy fuck, babygirl, you sound so good, don’t stop, princess, keep making those cute fucking noises, fuck, sound so good.” 
you shake your head no and hope that he understands what it means, that you won’t stop as long as he doesn’t. you’ll cry and scream and make cute little noises for him forever if he never pulls out of you. 
you’ve always known that fucking in bathrooms has been disadvantageous, you just couldn’t pinpoint it, not when it always felt so good anyway. you never thought the space bothered you or the hard, cold various materials of sinks or the fact that people were often only a door away; you never thought any of that mattered until now, now when you can cry for him and feel the softness of the blankets beneath you and the plushness of the pillow behind your head.
“baby,” you cry, “i’m- you’re gonna- fuck, i love you so much. i’m-.” you throw your head back, you can’t finish your half-constructed sentence before osamu is fucking you faster, harder, wrapping an arm around your lower back and lifting you up the slightest bit to angle you perfectly. your hand moves on instinct, reaches down between your legs and circles your throbbing clit for only a second before you’re squirting all over him, a release of pressure drenching him as you gasp for air, drawing in enough breath to cry out his name.
you place your hand on his lower abs, eyes closing softly to center yourself. you could’ve passed out right here, slept for a million years, and you’re not sure you would’ve completely recovered. your body is shaking, throat is sore, and when you open your eyes, osamu is looking at you with such adoration and awe that you’re certain you’ve missed something. 
“the first time we’re not in a fucking bathroom and you fucking make me squirt,” you mumble, shaking your head, “what are we going to do with you?” you ask, removing your hand from his stomach, silently letting him know you’ve recovered enough for him to keep going. 
“i don’t care,” he says, kissing your jaw, “i don’t care what you do with me for the rest of my life, that was the most amazing thing i’ve ever seen.”
“you made a mess,” you tease.
“i made a mess?” he asks.
you nod. 
he breathes a laugh before accepting responsibility, “i made a mess,” he confirms. 
“so you’ve gotta do one thing for me,” you say, circling your hips, matching his lazy thrusts as you wrap your arms around his neck. 
“anything,” he says. and you know that he means it. 
you use your loose grip around his neck to coax him closer to you, your lips now pressed against his ear. “need you to make a mess inside of me, samu, please,” you say, low enough to send shivers down his spine from the tone alone. his hips stutter. he wants to regain composure, to not give in to blowing his load deep inside of you just from you saying his name and asking him nicely, he really wants to savor it and last a little bit longer. 
but you’re so wet. you’re drenched, but you’re still so tight and sucking him in so nicely, perfectly sculpted for him, gummy walls still clenching and fluttering from your orgasm, and you kiss the skin right below his ear and you say, “please, i’ve been waiting for it ever since i fucking met you, please, don’t make me wait any longer.”
and he can’t. 
he wouldn’t.
he doesn’t.
he snaps his hips forwards, pressing himself flush against the insides of your thighs and releases deep inside of you. you can feel his cock pulse with each stream, feel yourself getting fuller and fuller and fuller with each throb and accompanying grunt. you can’t get enough. you don’t want it to ever stop, but it does. he keeps himself deep inside of you for a moment, not wanting to lose the feeling just as much as you don’t. 
when he starts to get soft, he pulls out, come dripping out of your hole and onto the blankets below just adding to the mess the two of you have created in the span of a few hours. he doesn’t exactly know where to go, what to do. the two of you could’ve passed out just like this, intertwined together and had the most incredible sleep of your entire life, if it weren’t for the huge mess beneath you. 
“what now?” you mumble, not moving. 
you feel osamu flop next to you. you’re not sure if he’s avoided the mess or if he’s embraced it. part of you wants to stand up and apologize and start throwing his bedspread in the washer, but that part of you isn’t winning, not today. if that part of osamu exists, it’s not winning either. he wraps his arms around your waist, rests his head on your chest, pulls you into him. 
“are we just going to lay in this?” you say, laughing. it sounds ridiculous coming out of your mouth, but you’re sure it wouldn’t take much convincing for you to not have to move from this very spot. osamu doesn’t answer you, but you feel him unwrap from your body and then get off the bed. you go to sit up, but you don’t make it that far, opening your eyes as osamu pulls the blankets out from under you and throws them in a heap in the corner of his tidy room. he opens the closet door and comes back with a spare, small, but clean blanket. 
he reassumes his position on the now-much-more-acceptable bed, throwing the blanket overtop of you and him and cuddling into your side. “is that better?” he asks, but he doesn’t really expect a response. your small smile and content hum is all he needs. 
after only a few moments, recuperated by a clean blanket and strong arms, your body is ready to move onto the next thing, ready to get up and start making breakfast or start kissing him again or start getting ready for work despite how long you have until your shift. your skin is antsy, pulse is quickening. there are a trillion things in your head that you want to do with osamu, plenty of dull activities that seem like they’ll be much better with him by your side. you want to see them. you want to do them.
osamu shifts and pulls you into his chest, kisses the top of your head. “love you, angel,” he murmurs into your hair. “love you so much,” he says again. you feel calmer now, the most at ease you’ve ever been, because you know that there’ll be time for all of that, plenty of time, hours and hours of time to do all of the things that you want to do with osamu, more time than you know what to do with, you just know it.
for now, all you have to do is lay here, in bed, surrounded by warmth in more ways that you thought were possible, maybe let sleep take you again or stay awake in these passing moments, it doesn’t really matter. your exhale is steady, matches with his. you close your eyes and you can see this moment next week and next month and three years from now. 
you look happy there. 
you look really happy there.
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tori talks more: i do not know if i'll be around to write more to be honest with you. like i probably will at some point, but who knows. maybe when the new movie comes out. maybe ill do a jjk pivot bc i just finished it. feel free to scream in my inbox abt it or this or whatever. ily all and im so glad i could finally finish this. <3 :)
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286 notes · View notes
chikaras-garden · 11 months
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Mean Streak (reader's version)
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Osamu is the world’s most perfect boyfriend: Sweet, doting, protective. He’d give you the world—but what happens when you ask him to be mean to you?
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Pairing: dom!Osamu x sub!fem!reader
Words: 4.6k
Contains: soft! to mean!dom!Osamu, brat!reader, light breathplay, dumbification, dacryphilia, praise kink, degradation, oral sex (f!receiving), overstimulation, piv sex, ruined orgasm, desk sex, chair sex, roughness, spanking, mention of a safeword, little hint of size difference, O calls R “baby girl,” “baby,” “little girl,” “dumb girl,” “good girl,” yes this was a wild ride
Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked, Yachi’s version on ao3. Couldn’t decide if I wanted this to be x Yachi or x reader, so…I did both.
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You’re pretty sure your boyfriend has a mean streak. He is Miya Atsumu’s twin brother, after all. They’re cut from the same cloth, mixed from the same pool of genes, but his temper is slower to rise than his brother’s. Even when he’s mad, he has a level of self-control unlike anyone else’s.
Instead of yelling at the toro supplier that’s actively trying to screw him over, he chokes down his words under a frustrated, throaty growl.
Instead of snapping at the customer trying to claim her food isn’t fresh, he smiles and offers a coupon while slicing a cucumber with so much force that the veins in his arm bulge.
Instead of putting Atsumu in his place before he starts getting annoying, your boyfriend just waits for his twin to make a fool of himself before calling him a few names that cut him straight to the core.
But, when you try to get him to be mean to you, all he does is raise his brow at you and pull you closer to his chest.
It’s hardly fair.
“You can have all the attention you want,” he chuckles every time you ask. Tucked in his lap, pressed up against his chest, the kindness in his words brings a pout to your lips. “I’ll spoil you until you cry—but baby, I can’t be mean to you.”
An idea forms while you’re waiting for Osamu to lock up the onigiri shop. Bored after finishing your last college class of the day, you’re just twiddling your thumbs while Osamu counts cash in his office. 
The first thing he did when you emerged through the shop door was vent about his day. First, there were more customers than he planned for, each one more impatient than the last that their onigiri had to be made fresh instead of grab-and-go. Then, one of the cashiers forgot that they had a dentist appointment and had to leave in the middle of the lunch rush. And, topping it all off, it’s Friday, which means that he has to close out the week’s worth of cash, and he keeps coming up with a different total every time he counts the bills.
Osamu is stressed. You would like to help him fix that.
You perch on his desk chair—stolen from in front of his computer—in the middle of the kitchen. It gives you a perfect view of Osamu, standing in front of his desk, framed by the bright white molding surrounding the back office door. But also, it means that he’s far away—at least, far enough that he’s not in arm’s reach, and that just won’t do.
Normally, you’d get up and drag the chair into his office to lean against him, or even give yourself a power nap snuggled up in the corner, under the ultra-coze industrial heat vent. But this time, you have a plan.
“Osamu,” you call, “aren’t you done yet?”
He sighs. It’s not at you (he would never), but at the fact that he just got pulled out of counting again. He drops the bills on the desk, sighs a second time, and picks them back up to start over. “I’ll be ready to go in a minute.”
A small part of you feels bad for provoking him, but you’re so curious, so needy for a side of Osamu that you never get to see—that you keep up the pressure. You whine, draping your arms on the prep table in front of you and pressing your cheek against your bicep. This time, Osamu slams the bills down, all but crushing the stack of paper under his hand. 
You imagine white-hot stings that turn to red marks, then pretty purple bruises. You think the sound of skin on skin would be much nicer than skin on paper, and the idea makes heat crawl up the back of your neck.
“For the love of,” your boyfriend says, starting to sound perturbed. “Baby, what?”
Honestly, how well this is going comes as a surprise. All you have to do is sniff, turn your nose up at Osamu’s baffled face, and give him your best pout, jutting your lip out so he can see the glimmer of saliva atop kissable skin.
You imagine him grabbing you by the back of your neck, forcing your lips open, and shoving his cock into your mouth to wipe the pout off your face. It’s a good thing the shop is chilly: you don’t have to hide the shiver that electrifies your core.
Then, you see him raise an eyebrow.
He holds up an arm, palm facing the ceiling, fingers outstretched. He’s so muscular, so invitingly warm in a dark blue t-shirt. It’s a soft one; it’s one of your favorites because of the color, the way it feels against your cheek, and the way it skims his arms.
Arms that can carry several restaurant-size bags of rice.
Arms that you wish were carrying you right now.
“C’mere.” His voice is like sugar. The sound of him beckoning you makes your face run hot, and you feel yourself almost giving in right then and there. He speaks gently, without judgment; like he understands you completely, like your acting up is a symptom, not a cause. 
You don't expect punishment when he talks to you like this. So, you swallow, remembering what you set out to do. You fidget, knees knocking together, and find stability in gripping the cool metal of Onigiri Miya’s prep counter. 
“No.”
Osamu looks at you like you just slapped him. His arm drops to his side while he, slack-jawed, tilts his head. “What did you just say?”
It’s a chance to change your mind, to whine and fall into your boyfriend’s loving arms so he can caress your cheeks and fuck the bad mood out of you. You could choose to let him spoil you with the attention you crave until you’re teary-eyed and babbling, giggling with the joy of having your needs answered with a loving touch.
But then, you see the tightness in Osamu’s jaw. Your legs feel hot.
“I said no,” you huff.
Osamu stares at you for a beat, studying you while the air in between you thickens, growing warm and sticky with tension. You try to hold still and steady so he doesn’t come to the conclusion that you don't really want this.
“Come over here and let me look at you.” 
You sit still for a second too long, because he adds, “Now, baby.”
As soon as you’re within arm’s reach, he seizes you by the waist and yanks you into him. You stumble forward, crashing into his chest with a soft thump. With his free hand, he grabs your chin, balancing your face between his thumb and forefinger to force you to look at him. He licks his lips while he observes you, and you wriggles because he’s so close, his skin is so warm, you want his tongue on you—
He squeezes your hip hard enough to make you whine. “Stop.”
Osamu backs you up until your thighs brush against his desk. He nudges you, lowering his palm until he gets a stable grip to lift you onto its surface, now with stacks of bills tucked hastily back into the cash register drawer. “Are you going to tell me why you’re being such a brat?”
He strokes a thumb across your lower lip. Spurred on by your own tingling desire, you open your mouth to invite his finger in. When he presses his thumb down on your tongue, making you drool and whine against his finger, he sighs; it’s shuddering, a messy blend of disappointment, relief, and lust. 
“Was this all you wanted, baby girl? My attention?” His soft tone draws you in. Your head tips forward until he catches you with his other hand, now stroking your cheek. He’s chuckling, now, and uses his hold on your mouth to make your nod. It’s a sign, symbolic of the fact that he always knows what you want, even if you don’t. 
You whine around his thumb, and he instantly shushes you. Gently, so gently, too gently, he cradles your head and guides you to rest against his shoulder. His muscles betray him; though his voice and the touches he’s controlling are soft, the subconscious tension in his arms is tight like a loaded spring.
Releasing his thumb, you mumble, “Want you to be mean.”
He coos, tutting at you as if you’re a toddler demanding a unicorn for your birthday. “You know I can’t do that. Besides, I don’t think that’s what you actually want.”
You blink up at him, eyes already glassy. You see the face of a man in love and drunk on it; he smiles sweetly, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, but there’s something else. A flash of cruelty in his eyes, a tension in his neck.
“‘Mean’ means that I leave you like this,” he continues, nonchalant. “‘Mean’ means that I take you back to your dorm for you to take care of this all by yourself.”
He gives your cheek a squeeze, then slides his thumb right back into your mouth, hooking it inside your cheek. “You don’t want that, do you, baby?”
You were going to shake your head anyway, but he tilts his wrist to do it for you. Again, he chuckles, and your chest fills with warmth at the velvet sound of your boyfriend sounding so pleased. With every word, you feel fuzzier and softer, pliant to anything he says you want.
Then, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth, leaving a pout behind. He stoops a little, crouching closer to your eye level. “I’m gonna give you what you actually want, okay? Need a real answer out of you, with words.”
Fuzzy as you may feel, you’re still (reasonably) coherent. You want Osamu, want whatever he has in mind, want to feel the results of your behavior as deeply as he’ll give. You’re teetering on the edge of your (and his) favorite headspace, a few perfect touches away from being blissed out and subby, all for him.
“Okay,” you murmur.
“Okay, who?”
“Okay, sir.”
“And your safeword?”
“Onigiri.”
“That’s right,” he coos. “That’s my girl.”
Osamu looks like a man wrestling with himself. He strokes your hips with gentle hands, sliding his fingers up under your shirt. But his arms, big and broad, strain. You can count the veins bulging under his skin, see how tight his muscles are, and oh, what you would give to be wrapped up in those arms for the rest of your life.
“Hey,” he interrupts. You look up and see the eyes of a worried lover. “I’ll never hurt you in ways you don’t like. Tell me as soon as anything’s too much, and I’ll go softer, understand?”
You nod.
“Yes or no, baby girl?”
“Yes, sir,” you insist. You lean forward slightly, entranced by the stern look on his face. He is the picture of control, looking at you in a way that conveys the internal calculations going on in his head. You think you’d like to help him let go of that, do what feels right instead of what he thinks is right.
You reach for the collar of his shirt, entwining your fingers in the soft fabric and tugging. “Please fuck me, sir.”
A low sound, thick with want, vibrates out of his throat. Those words went right to his cock, intensifying the growing bulge between his legs. You’re certain it’s making it harder and harder (pun intended) for him to concentrate; good, you think.
“Sit tight for a second.” He pats your hips and presses a kiss to your forehead. The gesture lasts one, two, three seconds, during which you can’t breathe. When he steps away, he’s biting his lip, hiding a grin—and then he winks.
You do not hide your grin from him. Instead, you let the flutter in your stomach inspire your feet to swing from your perch on Osamu’s desk.
After just a few seconds, he’s in front of you again, this time with the desk chair. He doesn’t wheel it, no; he picks it up, making it look weightless, and it looks like he’s flexing his arms on purpose to make you giggle.
It works.
“Thank everythin’ you’re wearing a skirt.” He grins wildly while he, with one hand on your waist and the other hand tightly gripping your fingers, helps you off the desk. Sure, you could do it herself, they both know, but you’d both much rather let Osamu handle everything. Falling into him and surrendering to trust feels good, and who are you to deny things that make your body sing?
Osamu flips up the bottom of your skirt and pulls, just slightly, so it’s hiked up around the top of your thighs. He gives you a look, and you quickly nod, which leads to him sliding your panties down your legs. Then, he nudges you to sit, and cool faux leather meets bare, burning skin.
You sigh, closing your eyes to stop yourself from shaking with anticipation. “I did it on purpose.”
“Of course you did.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Falling to his knees at your feet, Osamu looks at you with love: nothing more, nothing less.
He lays kisses all over your legs. Starting playfully, dotting your shins and knees with little pecks that make you giggle, he ends up open-mouthed, sucking shades of mauve, raspberry, and plum into the soft, sweet skin of your thighs. 
“So pretty for me,” he murmurs before kissing the juncture of your thigh and your hip. “You’re so beautiful. Like a work of art”
Then, his lips latch onto your clit, and he begins to suckle on your bundle of nerves like a man that hasn’t seen water for days, and a secret oasis resides between your legs.
Every time you moan, he sucks harder, creating a vicious cycle of action and reaction where his role and yours blur together. He makes you whimper with need, and he answers every one of your calls; he sets metaphorical fire to your trembling bud, and sounds of ecstasy erupt from your lips. 
Frustratingly, his tongue doesn’t go near your folds, never strays from your clit, treats this like an appetizer before tasting the sweet, wet fruit of his labor.
And then, he leans back on his heels.
You gasp at the loss of contact. Cold, artificial air rushes your clit, feeling like ice against his left-behind saliva, and your wriggle against the chair, not sure if you want to be closer or farther away from him. “S-Samu—S-Sir!”
“That was mean,” he tells you. You know—your mind and body feel the realization with agony, his teasing slicing through you like a sharpened blade. His bait-and-switch is unfair, so unfair that the lonely ache in your pussy hurts, leaving you shuddering and weak in the knees while he looks at you with a patronizing stare.
Not one to torture you for long, though, he leans forward again, brushing his nose up against your sex. You whine, throwing your legs over his shoulders to pull him closer, closer, until his lips ghost along the slick edges of your core. He sighs, blowing warm air into you in a way that makes you keen.
You reach and grab a fist of his hair, at which he grunts; with trembling lips, you resign to begging, “Please, please, sir.”
You get the raised brow again, a little gesture that makes you want to throw yout head back and cry out in frustration. “Thought you wanted mean?”
“‘M sorry, sir, I-I—”
“That’s right,” he cuts you off in a tone that’s over-the-top condescending, hinting that he doesn’t really mean it. You recognize the sound of Osamu’s voice when he’s electric, on fire with adrenaline. Every word is laced with a wicked degree of lust that makes your heart pound, makes you struggle closer to him. “My girl’s too dumb to know what she wants.”
Osamu runs his hands up and down your legs, then he grips your knees, wrapping your thighs snugly around his broad shoulders. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, caring, and full of love, but his smirk mocks the way you’re falling apart in his hands. “‘S okay, though. That’s why I’m here. You need me to take care of you, don’t you, baby girl?”
You rush to agree, nodding as you sniffle and press one of your thighs closer to Osamu’s mouth. “I-I can’t…I need you, s-sir.”
“I know, baby; I know.” To soothe you—because he can’t help himself—he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, then bites down until you squeal. You, unaware of what your body is doing to him, reward him with a sudden tug to the fistful of his hair you’re holding onto for dear life. He lets you lead him even though he’s fully aware that you’re not coherent enough to realize it; when you pull, he presses his nose above your sex, grazing his teeth along the flesh of your mound until he reaches the top of your folds.
“Fuckin’ delicious,” he growls, right before he dives back in for seconds, tongue flat against your core.
He slides his tongue down from your clit to your weeping hole, dipping just the tip inside. For himself, he wants to savor your saccharine taste; for you, he wants to draw out your pleasure as long as possible, to hold you over the edge of bliss until you’re breathless because of him.
While he slides his tongue in and out of you, lapping from the bottom of your folds up to your clit, he swirls his tongue around your pert bundle of nerves, then angles his chin so his nose bumps against your clit with every downward stroke of his tongue. A waterfall of moans spills out of your lips, any word other than please completely forgotten from your vocabulary. He loves his girl, his polite baby, and as such, the ministrations of his tongue start to quicken, to become rushed and ragged because he, too, needs more.
Your vision starts to blur with pleasure, with tears. You’re close, so close, and you feel knots tying themselves in your stomach and your groin. Wordlessly, thrusting shallowly forward, you beg him not to pull away again; you were wrong, you want to cry, you don’t want him to be mean.
You chase the building high, follow the white hot light building in your vision all the way to your peak. Hips rocking forward, meeting his tongue with no rhythm whatsoever and knocking your clit against his teeth. Legs squeezing, pressing his warm cheeks into you until his 5 o’clock shadow scrapes angry marks into your thighs.
Right before your orgasm crashes over you, he pulls away again.
The sound you make is somewhere between a moan and a sob, and fat tears finally break free from your eyes as your blubber, choking and gasping on your ruined orgasm “N-No, sir, please.”
You don't get very long to cry, though, as he rushes to stand over you. His hands grab both of your cheeks and pull you into him, kissing you so deeply that your ability to think finally melts away completely. His tongue is in your mouth. You taste yourself on him: salty, sweet, musky. His fingers are as cold as ice against your burning skin, heat radiating from your cheeks, to your chest, to your stomach, to your groin. You fidget, but that makes him hold you tighter, pinning your soft cheeks between his calloused hands.
Whimpering, mewling against his lips, you paw at his chest. Broad muscle meets weak fingers, and you tug at the fabric in your way. You need him, need to feel him, need him to hold you now before all of your pieces fall apart.
Osamu pulls his tongue out of your mouth, but you’re too dazed to speak. He presses kisses down your throat, pausing only to suck on your collarbone while quick fingers make easy work of your sweater’s buttons. He glances up at you through half-lidded eyes, grinning as he presses feather-light kisses to the top of your chest. “What’re you crying for, pretty girl? This is what you asked for.”
You take a deep breath, arch your back, push your chest closer to his face. “P-Please, I want…”
When your voice falls off, too weak to finish your sentence, he gives you a fox-like grin. “You want?”
You whine, kicking your feet out behind him. One leg wraps around his waist, the other tangles behind his thigh. Your hands find stability in grabbing his forearms, and you fleetingly think that’s a mistake because he’s so strong and thick that your middle finger and thumb aren’t even close to touching.
“Good girls ask for what they want,” he breathes, letting go of one side of your face to brush his fingers down your throat. He admires you like a fine work of art, but there’s a determination in his touch. A plan, something he knows that you don't.
Asking for what you want is easier said than done when you’re fully clothed, let alone when you’re halfway to the best orgasm of your life. You know he just needs a few words, that you want to be good, and that he likes his good girl, but you struggle to breathe around the words while he, one-handed, unclasps your bra and starts caressing your breast.
“Did you hear me, baby?”
You blinked up at him, nodding feverishly.
He presses his thumb against the side of your neck. Your breach catches under the pad of his finger. “Then tell me what you want.”
His pace grinds to an almost total stop; just one hand keeps massaging your breast. You lick your lips, rock forward, and press your sticky forehead to Osamu’s arm. You sniffle, hot tears rolling off your cheek and into the crook of his elbow.
“I can’t,” you babble, barely louder than a whisper. “‘M sorry, I-I can’t.”
“Oh baby, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for being my dumb little girl.” At that, at the gentle tone he mocks you with, something snaps in your chest. You feel as if you needed to be broken apart to feel whole again; when your pride shatters, you cry more freely, face blotchy and wet with tears while you cling to Osamu for dear life. Underneath the cracked surface, though, you feel bright and new, shining bright from the trust you give him, and the safety he gives you in return.
Osamu pulls you up by your throat and you yelp, raising your head to stare at him with bleary eyes. 
“You’re fucking perfect, just like this,” he assures you. Then, he kisses you slowly, loops his arms around you to make you turn around, then presses you face-first against his desk. You close your eyes and let out a shaky sigh; your knees tremble and your hands buzz, not quite feeling the desk’s smooth surface under the electricity coursing through your veins.
And then Osamu spanks you.
It’s just one slap, and you cry out more in surprise than out of pain. Heat rushes to your ass while you whine, feeling the impact turn into liquid arousal dripping between your slick folds. 
“You liked that, didn’t you?”
You nod with all the vigor you can gather. To that, he spanks the other cheek.
“Yes or no, baby?”
“Yes, sir!” you blurt. You squeeze your eyes shut, ready, hoping for another impact that never comes. Instead, you hear a quiet, metallic clink, then ruffling fabric, then the sound of thin plastic tearing.
All signs point to being seconds away from getting your boyfriend’s cock, and your heart stutters with want.
He runs a hand up and down your spine, and you can’t help but note how heavy his grip feels, how he commands you with the lightest of touches. His other hand grabs your hip, holding you steady once he chooses the right position, lines himself up, and pushes into you with ease.
A throaty growl reaches your ears. You feel his day’s frustration melt away with every inch he stretches you open with, feel tension leave his body as soon as the tip of his cock brushes your cervix. All that’s left behind is his hunger, which he chases by picking up the pace as soon as he’s fully stuffed inside you.
Frustration is replaced with an insatiable desire that has him pounding you so hard that his thighs slap against the backs of yours, your ass slams into his hips, and you’re seeing stars. Your lips hang open while you gasp for air, and tears stream down your face, but your head spins, revolving around the bright moon that fills your sky: Osamu, Osamu, Osamu.
You aren’t sure just how many times he spanks you; you’re not counting beats to see if he’s keeping time with the unfair pace of his thrust. All you know is the feeling of clenching hard at every impact, making him groan every time his hand comes down on your ass, and you hear skin on skin, huffs of breath, and feral growls—all behind you.
Osamu.
“Too fucked out—shit—to think, huh baby girl?” He stutters through his words, barely able to form a complete thought of his own while he reaches forward, under your belly to find your clit from above. 
As soon as he touches you, you choke on a sob. You register a few words in his voice, but you can’t tell if they’re real, or you’re imagining them. 
“It’s—’s okay. I’ll think for ya.”
So fucking tight. 
Is this what you wanted, baby? 
Wanted to make—make me take out all my anger on you?
My perfect little f-fuckdoll.
Good—good girl. Good fucking girl.
Come, baby girl; come for me right now.
And, because Osamu knows what you want best of all, you do. You snap like a pair of chopsticks, splintering, messy, coming undone in a way that permanently changes your very structure. You feel different, made new, changed into something useful for him to satisfy his hunger.
Your orgasm ripples through you in waves that have you heaving. Warm skin, glassy eyes, wet cheeks, hips pressing back into Osamu to swallow him more. You clamp down on him hard, pussy spasming, sucking him dry, pulling an orgasm from him that has him draped over you: slick with sweat, biting down on your shoulder, hand tangled tightly with yours.
“Fuck,” he whines. Afterglow bubbles in your stomach, leaving you delirious and woozy; all you can do in response is whimper.
“‘Ve gotcha,” he slurs. After massaging his hands into your shoulders and down your sides, he winds his arms around your waist and hoists you up as if you weigh nothing. He balances your head on his shoulder and, in spite of his own wobbly, uneven gait, carries you to sit in his office chair, where you curl up in his lap.
“Sir,” you murmur, reaching to smooth your hands over his chest. 
He catches one, presses a kiss to every finger, your palm, and your wrist. “You did so good, baby girl. ‘S over now—you’re safe.”
You bury your face in his neck, too tired to do anything else. But, you do have the fleeting thought that, with him, no matter what you beg him to do to you, “safe” is what you’ll always be.
944 notes · View notes
shojoisms · 2 years
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ft. suna, Osamu, and kita.
+cw: fem!reader, vaginal penetration, creampies, oral (fem receiving), praise kink, slight teasing, size kink, riding, face sitting, pet names used (bun, darlin’, sweetheart.) not beta’d or edited.
+a/n: havin some thots about men who talk you through your orgasm.. and I think my top 3 contenders (yes this is bias.)
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+ Rintaro Suna
Suna, Suna’s so smug — watching you come undone on his cock as he thrusts into you from below, his strong arms holding your limp body preventing you from falling.
“Look at me, bun,” Suna’s voice is raspy, his large hands grip at your waist harshly as he lifts you up effortlessly before slamming you back down on his cock.
You can’t even comprehend what he’s saying, so fucked out and mind so far gone as his thick, long cock stretches you out — making you feel oh so fucking full.
“Gonna cum, right bun,” Suna grits through his teeth, the hold he has on your body gets tighter as he feels you clench and squeeze around him for the umpteenth time — you’re closing your eyes, the tip of his dick hitting your sweetest spots.
You nearly choke on a moan when he brings a hand between your thighs — rubbing at your swollen clit. “I know you’re gonna cum, can feel you trying to break my dick off,” he’s right, you’re close, the added sensation’s making too hard to hold on any longer.
“It’s ok, let go for me,” and you do, your walls fluttering for a final time as you chant Suna’s name like a prayer before going slack against his body.
“So good for me,” he says, wrapping his arms around you before going in for a kiss.
+ Osamu Miya
“Atta girl,” Osamu’s voice is low, as he hunches over you — pressing the entirety of his weight upon your body while he whispers into your ear. “Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well,” he groans, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each thrust.
“Samu, Samu,” you cry, his cock hitting that special spot inside of you that nearly has you seeing white — and as soon as Samu feels you clench around him, he lets out a sharp breath. Taking a mental note to hit it again.
“Gonna cum?”
You can’t even find the words to respond, shaking your head rapidly as your body writhes and shakes in pleasure, a soft chuckle leaves Osamu’s lips — seeing you like this has his balls tightening and his cock stirring in your cunt.
“Cum for me, sweetheart,” pressing a soft kiss upon the back of your neck — his shifts his hips, making sure he hits your most sensitive spot with precision, the sound of skin slapping against skin could be heard through out the entire room. “Think ya earned it,”
Your walls flutter around him, constricting and squeezing so damn hard that he thinks you’re gonna snap his cock in two — but that doesn’t stop him, his hips stilling rutting into yours as he tells you how good you’re doing while he pounds into you from behind.
His pace starts to slow down as he relishes in the way your cunt threatens to milk him for all he has, even when your unable to keep yourself up — nearly collapsing onto the mattress, he doesn’t stop, rocking into you gently as he supports your body with one arm wrapped around your waist while the others pressed against the bed.
+ Shinsuke Kita
Kita looks so pretty laying underneath you, his face buried into your cunt as you sit on his face — you were embarrassed at first when he had brought up the idea, with a straight face no doubt. But after some convincing and some sweet talking he managed to get what he want.
“Ya taste so good, ya know that,” Kita hums, licking another stripe into your cunt, his tongue delving between your folds collecting all your slick while his nose occasionally bumps against your clit. “Best I’ve ever had, matter a’ fact.”
“Shin,” you whine, hands finding themselves placed upon his head as you stroke his silver locks with your fingers, “s’close,”
He hums, the vibrations shaking you right down to your core and you gasp when you feel his hands cup your plush ass, a firm grip on your cheeks as he guides you back and forth on his face.
Kita’s tongue felt so good inside you, as he flicked it in and out of your hole, of course he knew you were close —- he could tell by the way your thighs quivered around him, and it’s not like he could feel your walls fluttering.
“Yer doing so well, ya know that” his whispers into your cunt, “come on, darlin’. Yer almost there,”
Your orgasm hit hard, nearly causing you to collapse on top of Kita — thank god you were able to catch yourself. Rolling off of your lover, you turn to him and he looks as happy as ever while he’s licking your essence off his mouth.
“Let’s try that again.”
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lia7sthings · 1 year
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-Thirst imagine-
Imagine, him fucking you with his tight suit and loose tie. Rubbing your swollen clit with his rough fingers. Gripping your hips until you see some marks. Squeezing your thighs as their climax approaches.
◇ Ushijima Wakatoshi, Iwaizumi Hajime, Osamu Miya, Daichi Sawamura, Kuroo Tetsuro, Matsukawa Issei
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iwaizoomiess · 2 years
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Movie Nights
Someone cant keep their hand to themselves and movie night gets a bit more interesting
CW: Oral (male receiving), degradation, AFAB Fem!reader. MDNI 18+
word count: 1.3K
A/N: Just me being whore-knee on main. Also was gonna edit it this but got too lazy so oops my bad.
@tojisun as always, you are my enabler. Enjoy my brainrot ramblings
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Music rings throughout the darkened living room, as some intense scene plays out on the television. The both of you are curled up on the couch to watch whatever movie he had picked out earlier in the evening, but you have long lost interest in it, instead choosing to focus on him.
You gaze up at him from your place against his side, his heavy arm wrapped around you keeping you close to him with your legs thrown across his lap, and take in the way his eyes seem to sparkle with anticipation as he watches the movie play out with rapt attention. Your eyes then move down the slope of his nose and to the plump of his lips. You can't help it when you lean forward and steal a quick kiss from him, tasting the remnants of the green apple soju you both had drank earlier. His gaze flickers to meet yours momentarily as he sends you a soft smile and affectionately gives your thigh a squeeze, his attention quickly returning to the movie.
You snuggle closer into his side, continuing to admire him as your eyes drift to the angle of his cheekbones, then to the sharp curve of his jawline and down the column of his throat. They briefly linger at his collarbones before continuing their downward trek and snagging on the bulge between his legs, dick print on display thanks to his decision to forgo wearing boxers under his sweatpants.
You shift uncomfortably at the heat tingling in your gut and prickling down your spine. He tightens his arm around you, as he feels you wriggling around, before letting out a gruff, “you alright?”
“Yeah,” you reply.
He’s caught off guard at the slight breathlessness in your voice and finally peels his eyes away from the TV to look at you. He takes in your dilated pupils but before he can say or see anything else, you throw your legs off his lap and remove yourself from his side, before moving to straddle his thighs. You throw your arms around his shoulders, his hands moving to squeeze at your hips as you nose affectionately at his neck before leaving a trail of featherlight kisses starting at the base of his neck moving up towards and across his jawline.
He hums contentedly, traces of laughter and confusion apparent in his tone but not saying anything else.
You continue to place soft kisses against his skin until you reach his lips. He feels you pause your ministrations, and quirks an eyebrow at the way you move out of his hold, choosing to run your hands down his shoulders and down his torso as you sink down to kneel on the floor between his legs.
You bring your hands to rest on his thighs and you can't help the fluttering in your stomach at the feeling of him flexing under your palms. Leaning forward, you ghost your fingers over the crotch of his sweats, fleeting and barely any pressure behind it. You repeat the motion a few times, before applying more pressure, now properly palming at his dick.
You can't help it when you lean forward and nuzzle up against the growing tent, smiling when you feel his dick twitch. His hand comes down against the crown of your head, gently brushing through your hair as he lets out a sharp exhale at you placing a kiss over his clothed cock.
You shift back, digging your fingertips into the waistband of his pants. He lifts his hips just enough for you to pull the fabric down past his balls and free his quickly hardening cock. He relaxes into the couch, manspreading to give you more room between his legs. You shift closer to him, upper body sandwiched between his thighs as your tongue peeks drawing circles over the weeping slit of his cock. Licking down his frenulum, then back up to swirl your tongue against the slit, and repeating the motion a few times. You look up to make eye contact with him and take in the way his full attention was on you, before leaning down to place a kiss to the flushed and sticky tip.
A depraved groan leaves his lips at the way the gesture makes both his heart and his dick jump, he watches through lidded eyes as you leave kisses down his shaft before moving back up and finally taking the tip of his dick into your mouth and sucking.
Your eyes flutter as you feel his knuckle brush against your cheeks, you hum around his cock in contentment, taking in more of him, as he traces your cheekbones lovingly with his thumb. You gaze up at him through your lashes, watching as he looks at you with such a soft and tender look, his thumb moving to swipe at the bit of drool that’s gathered around at the corner of your mouth. He moves his hand to your head, his fingers combing through your hair gently at first as you bob up and down his length, but then he tightens his grip, his hand fisting at your hair.
“C’mon sweet girl, I know you can take me deeper than that,” he huffs, forcing your head all the way down on his cock until your lips are brushing his pelvis all in one go. He tosses his head back, groaning as he feels you gag around his length, your throat protesting the intrusion and tears prickling in your eyes. He bucks into your mouth leisurely a few times, holding your head steady in his unwavering grip.
He adjusts his grip on your hair slightly before his thrusts begins to pick up pace, becoming harder and rougher.
“That's it, stay still and take my cock like the little slut you are. Ah -doing so good, so fucking good. Is this what you wanted, huh? When you interrupted the movie by getting down on your knees and pawing at my dick like a bitch in heat.”
You let out a muffled sob, trying to breathe through your nose as your nails dig into his thighs for purchase as he continues to fuck your face without mercy.
He lets out a mirthless laugh as he sees the tears running down your face. “Aww, poor baby,” he mocks, pouting down at you, “is this too much for you to handle? Too bad your dumb little whore brain didn't think about it earlier. But i'm willing to bet not much goes on in that head of yours.”
His hips begin to thrust wildly and his pace becoming erratic as he nears his high.
“God fuck you're pretty. Look so perfect like this,” he groans from deep within his chest, “i'm gonna, i'm-” he gets cut off by a moan, his body seizing up as his warm cum floods your mouth.
You slowly pull away, mouth releasing his dick with a wet pop. Opening up your mouth, you stick out your tongue to show him his milky cum still coating it before swallowing. He groans again in between his panting, still trying to catch his breath as his body melts into the couch.
“Come here you little trouble maker,” he says pulling you up from the ground and on to his lap. His lips brush against your forehead once before he plants a proper kiss, his fingers slipping past the waistband of your cotton shorts, only to pause when they’re met directly with your sticky folds, your wetness beginning to trail down your thighs. He can't fight off the smirk that grows on his face at the new found information.
His fingers deftly circle your clit a few times before he removes them all together and pulls down your shorts all in one swift move.
Instead of moving his hand back between your legs, he surprises you by moving his sweats down lower, and seating you directly onto his bare thigh.
“Get yourself off,” he says, his own hand going back to stroke his already half dick. You open your mouth to protest before he cuts you off with a disapproving click of his tongue. “Less complaining and more moving,” he states, flexing his thigh and pushing it against your core, making you shudder.
“And if you do a good enough job, I might just fuck you.”
MEIAN, IWAIZUMI, Osamu, MATSUKAWA, Ukai.
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© 2022 iwaizoomiess. All work belongs to iwaizoomiess, do not repost, modify or copy.
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festive · 2 years
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day one! Osamu + Foodplay.
20:35pm.
cw: osamu x fem!reader, foodplay, cunnilingus.
a/n: shout out to Nai 4 putting this in my head!
🏷: @bubble4u @thicksimpx & @manjiroscum.
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If there were two things Osamu enjoyed most in this world, it would be food and his cute girlfriend of so many years. Now when Osamu learned he would combine the two things he loved the most through a video that he had found late at night while scrolling through a porn site, he was ecstatic. You should’ve seen the look on his face. The ordinarily calm gray eyes that showed little to no emotion had sparked up in joy. You better believe he wasted no time sharing his find the next day. He was even happier when you had agreed to indulge him.
That leads you to your current situation. Sitting naked on the dining room table as Osamu’s more prominent frame ghosts over you - his warm breath fanning against your skin as his hand reaches beside you. He grabs the can of whipped cream before decorating your body with it. The coldness of the cream startles you slightly.
“Samu, please.” Your words come out as pleas, and Osamu can’t help but grin at your impatient behavior. “Not yet.”
Continuing with his ministrations, Osamu hums to himself as he brings the nozzle of the cream to your chest - swirling the sweet around your nipples. Afterward, he stops, leaving you sitting there in confusion. You quirk your eyebrow giving him a questioning look. “Missin’ somethin’, not quite sure what.”
Then it hits him. Osamu claps his hands together in realization before walking away - you can hear him rummaging through the fridge before he returns. Chocolate syrup in one hand and a container of strawberries in the other.
“Really?” You couldn’t help but giggle, especially when Osamu wiggles his thick brows like that in an attempt at being ‘sexy.’ “Oi, stop ya laughin’.”
Placing the strawberries upon the table, Osamu grabs two and places them upon your nipples - mixing them with the cream.
Osamu gives you an expectant look. “Spread ya legs.”  He says, grabbing the bottle filled with chocolate syrup and trailing it down your body.
You do as you’re told, spreading your legs to reveal your bare cunt. Osamu takes a few seconds, licking his lips at the sight of you on display just for him. “‘S pretty.” He muses.
The sultry tone in his voice was enough to cause your cheeks to heat up. Your body felt like it was on fire. You’re thankful Osamu continued with what he was doing rather than wasting even more time flirting. You can feel him shift before he pulls away from you.
He stands up, admiring his handiwork for the last time before slotting himself back between your thighs. He places his fingers on your cunt, spreading your sweet-covered folds before digging in.
Osamu’s tongue dragged across your cunt slowly, as if he were trying to savor your sweet taste. You bite your lips, trying to stifle your moans as you rock your hips to meet his pace — subconsciously grinding your core into his face. You can feel him hum against you, the vibration causing you to grind into him harder as he fucks his tongue into your aching hole.
You tasted terrific; you always did — the food playing little to no factor for debate. Then, finally, Osamu pulls his tongue away. Before you can cry at the loss of sensation, you feel his warm mouth engulf your throbbing clit. He gives it the attention it desperately deserves. He traces your drool-covered slit while easing two thick fingers inside you. But it’s not like it was too hard, considering how wet you already were.
A string of curses flies from your mouth, mixed with incoherent pleas and lustful moans. Osamu knew you were close. It was only a matter of time. He angles his fingers with precision as he rubs against your more sensitive spots, and you’re trying your hardest not to suffocate him with your thighs. However, you don’t really think he’d mind.
The coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter with each stroke. Osamu’s name rolls off your tongue as if you were chanting it. He could feel your orgasm approaching by how your walls clench and spasm around him. Osamu begins to suck on your clit even harder the tighter you feel around him.
You nearly scream in pleasure, falling back, allowing you to lay against the table - trying to catch your breath while you ride out your high.
Osamu finally pulls away, licking your slick off his lips before leaning over you. One hand above your head, while the other rests heavily on your hip. He grinds his throbbing erection into you, the fabric of his pants sending jolts of electricity through your body.
“Help me out, will ya, sweetheart?”
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half-baked-biscuit · 2 years
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faves w bj - part 4
Disclaimer: all characters are aged up to their manga status (for anime only, that means in 2022 they are around 27 and 36 :D)
General Warnings: 18+, smut; minors do not interact. Established relationship; hookup; consensual; smoking; overstimulation; exhibitionism; dirty talking; blowjob; hand job; teasing; intercourse mentioned.
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Ukai Keishin
Doesn’t admit it and doesn’t ask for it either but he loves getting head. Keishin's favourite way to have his dick sucked is after he fucked you. He likes going on your bedroom balcony to puff a smoke, knowing fully well that your arms will come to embrace him from behind after you rest a little. He knows your hands will travel down to his still erected dick and you will pump it casually, never satiated, no matter how much of him he’d give you. He loves how you always pretend to want to just tease him with your fingers, but end up on your knees in front of the bent-twigs chair in your balcony, with a hand fondling his previously emptied balls and your lips sliding up and down his cock, while he pulls from the cigarette and moans at each and every of your touches.
Iwaizumi Hajime
Sometimes he gets embarrassed when he thinks about it, but Iwa is actually proud of himself for having given into your silly flirt at the gym. He was your trainer after all, and as much as he was used to girls doing that, your flirting was different. Ten out of ten he did not expect you to mean it when you offered to blow him if he helped you get toned faster than the program you paid for allowed. He did it because he found you cute and hot alike but, boy, oh boy, he was in for more. A week of intense training later, as promised, you gave Iwa the blowjob of his life. In the gym’s shower. In the gym’s men shower, to be more precise, late at night, after everyone left and it was just the two of you. He rejected you at first, even scolded you, but as you dropped on your knees, he switched to laughing. He just couldn’t believe that was happening. Then the laughter turned to groans. Now he faces difficulties in focusing on correcting your posture during your exercises because he keeps remembering the shape of your body in the gym outfit as you sucked his soul out through his dick. But that’s not such a big problem. He’s wearing loose shorts now, to hide the hardon, and professionally waits for the session to be over so you could go back to his place and take all of him in your pretty mouth.
Sawamura Daichi
He's an open-minded guy, Daichi. Pretty much likes whatever idea you bring in the bedroom… or on the couch. As long as he feels clean and comfortable, he'll let you suck him off whenever. He knows how much you enjoy his dick and his muscular thighs. He caresses the top of your head in slow strokes when he's feeling good, grips your wrist to still your pumps when he's feeling close, whispers "easy, baby, I want to last longer". You lean your cheek on his naked thigh and kiss between his balls until he finally tells you to "take it whole" again. You smile like a child given candy and wrap your lips around him. Daichi never makes a mess. He cums in a straight line from your collarbone to your belly button, right between your tits.
Miya Osamu
He would never decline a blowjob after a tiring day at work. You'd text him that you're waiting for him to come home faster and he'd only smirk. As if he could wait for the bus "faster". He'd announce his presence cheerfully and praise the tasty smell of your cooking straight from the hallway. Mood change real quick when he enters the kitchen and sees you in your birthday suit with nothing but an apron hanging clumsily over your chest, tied with a bow on your lower back. He admits to having imagined this while he jerked himself off some time and he claims a seat at the kitchen table. He chuckles and rolls his eyes when you start palming him through the pants, saying that he kept you hungry by working overtime, but then you make him roll them harder when you deepthroat him, right there on the kitchen floor tiles, between his knees, looking up at him.
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forusomimiya · 10 months
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"Rin… I can't m-" your words are forgotten by another sloppy kiss, so you let your thoughts slip away and become drunk with pleasure at his touch and his groans in your mouth. He desperately searches for your tongue, and when he finds it, it's too late to free yourself, you can only let him catch you again and again.
You open your eyes to meet his, which were already looking at you from before. Impossible for him not to admire your gestures as he kisses you. Warm, commanding golden gaze, which causes an electric sensation throughout your body, a shudder in the way he kisses you, rebellious, his hands delicately caressing your body, and with the grip of one of them on your chin, in his direction to take you easily. Your mind slips away when you suddenly feel other lips trailing down your neck.
Then you remember it, and your body ceases to be yours to give yourself to another.
"Hmmm she smells sooo good…" Osamu inhales your perfume, blindly undoing the buttons of your shirt to make his way to your tits, which he soon pulls out of your bra to squeeze, massage and flatter through moans that crash into your neck.
"You can pinch them…she likes it, don't you bunny?" Embarrassment takes over you and you hide in Suna's neck. You don't want to look because you know everything will get worse if you do, but fuck, they are the ones provoking you to do it.
Osamu is quick to obey Suna and test you, so you just limit yourself to giving him more access to touch, moving closer to him, silently urging him to take possession of your nipples.
"Both… p-please touch me both, more…" You don't see it, but you don't need to either to guess that your pleas have caused both men to exchange glances with each other, causing the hands of the man behind you to move down your hips until he reach the fold of your skirt and then lift it up, while those that were busy on your tits, move to under the thin garment to grab your panties and slowly pull them down to your ankles, perfectly following the intentions of the dark-haired man with a fox-like gaze.
You bite your lip in embarrassment as you imagine what Osamu would think if he touched you and found out how damn wet you are right now. He'd appreciate it, of course but, what would come after that?
"Do you want us both baby?" Suna knows the answer, but he is like that, irritating to a certain extent. He likes to expose you to your own desires in a manipulative way. He likes to be in control, and when he's in control, you have no choice but to nod quickly without a word, because that's just the way it is, you want them so fucking bad. Now.
"We wanna hear it, honey. Use your words" Osamu commands, kissing your neck again. Suna's hands have begun to give access to Osamu's touch on your belly, running his fingers across your abdomen, past your hip and down to your thigh, which he caresses several times, enjoying the softness of your skin before moving up the inside of it.
"Y-yes… yes please, I need you, I need you guys… please" your breath hitches with every touch Osamu leaves between your legs and every little nibble on your neck, though Suna hasn't been sparing touching you either.
You didn't notice but, one of his hands left the grip of your skirt to take two fingers into his mouth and lick them before returning down, this time directly to your pussy, which was still dripping, taking advantage of your lubrication to open your labia and welcome Osamu's thick fingers, delicately and sweetly pampering your entrance.
There was no difference in sensation between his saliva and your cum but damn, your clit was starting to throb and your legs wouldn't last long firm.
"Alright bunny, we'll be nice with you…"
A.N.: Too long for my taste for not to make a sequel but fuck, I swear to gods I'll do it, and it will end with another fuCKING SUNAOSA 3SOME 🤤🤤 because when I write about them, I'm mentally unstable and I like it 🥴
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koutarostiddies · 2 years
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Misletoe
Repost from main blog
A/N: Working graveyard shifts is going to delay all my posts.
Prompt: Dec 3rd Kiss Me Under The Mistletoe
Fandom: Haikyuu!
Pairing: post time skip Osamu Miya x Reader
Content Warning: Oral sex, p in v sex, fingering, jerking off
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Onigiri Miya was always busy, one part due to the amazing food, another due to the incredibly handsome owner. This month was no different, well maybe slightly.
"I thought you weren't the festive type," Osamu said as he watched you placed the Santa on the bench outside the restaurant. Osamu wasn't the flashy type, not like his brother, so his twin popped up in his head immediately when he saw all the decorations.
"Tsumu put you up to this, didn't he?"
"He said it would make a great photo op for couples,” you smiled back at your boyfriend knowing very well that both of you hated PDA.
"You lost a bet didn't you? " Osamu rubbed the small of your back as you leaned into him. "That obvious?" Your face reddened, embarrassed to admit that once again, you lost a bet to Atsumu.
"C'mon, let's head inside before your fingers freeze off." Osamu laced his fingers through yours and led you back inside.
"Oh, would you look at that?" You motioned to the mistletoe hanging below the doorway and he sighed heavily. “Are you going to blame this on my brother as well?”
“Would you believe me if I said yes?”
“Not in the slightest,” Samu walked through the doorway without so much as giving you a peck on your cheek.
“Samu,” you whined as he walked away.
“I’m busy, babe,” he smiled smugly and headed to the back to bring out the rolls he had already prepared.
The decorations were a success, much to your boyfriend’s dismay. More couples flooded in to take pictures under the mistletoe and outside near the Santa. You would occasionally catch your boyfriend smile a little at the couples, but decided against calling him out on it. Since Miya Onigiri was busier than usual you stayed to help him out; it was the least you could do since it was due to the decorations that more people came in and lingered.
After a few hours the crowd started to thin out and more people opted to go grab hot chocolates and look at the various Christmas related booths that lined the street.
“Seems like everything is winding down, you can head home if you’d like.” Samu rubbed your shoulders and gave you a small kiss on the cheek when no one was looking.
“Oh Mr. Miya, are you being inappropriate with your employee,” you teased as you leaned into him.
“You wish.” Osamu lowered his hands as soon as customers started to look over. He was right though, you did wish he’d be a little inappropriate. “I’m good. I’ll go and take a quick nap in the office until you’re ready to go.” You gave him a gentle smile, looking back at the mistletoe, hoping that maybe by the time you were headed home you’d get a chance for a picture of him kissing you under it like you promised Atsumu.
As soon as you walked through the door of his office you wondered if you should’ve hung the mistletoe in there instead. Oh, well. Maybe next time. As soon as you sat in his comfy chair, sleep took over you.
“Finally,” Osamu locked the door and turned off the sign. Today was too much excitement for him. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if he was warned ahead of time, but he could’ve really done without all that noise and commotion. He wrapped up all the leftover onigiri and set them on the counter to take home. He was sure that if you didn’t polish them off his brother would swing by and take what was left. He cracked his fingers and stretched a final time before he made his way to his office. He let out a small chuckle when he saw just how tired you must’ve really been. He knew there was no point telling you that you shouldn’t have come over right after you got out of work, but he still worried when you overdid it. As he made it into the office he spotted another box with more decorations. He peered inside and saw more mistletoe. He shook his head not knowing who he should blame more, his brother or you. He looked over to you one more time before rummaging through the box.
You were awoken by the feeling of someone watching you. “Samu,” you slowly blinked as your boyfriend leaned in closer. “What are you…?”
“Look up,” he motioned. Between you both was a sprig of mistletoe. “I owe you one,” he smiled as he leaned in to kiss you. You leaned into his kiss not knowing if you were still dreaming or not, but if you were you’d love for it to last a bit longer. You felt his large hand rub your thigh as the kiss deepened. Suddenly you were well aware of just how awake you were as you moaned into his mouth. He dropped the mistletoe and carded his fingers through your hair. He pulled away briefly, only to smile at you before going back in for more. You didn’t bother stopping him, it had been too long since you shared a kiss like this.
“Did you lock the doors,” you asked in between kisses.
“Mhm,” he responded before slipping his tongue into your mouth. While one hand moved higher up your thigh the other found its way under your shirt. Samu’s dexterous fingers made fast work of your bra and within moments you were helping him remove your shirt.
“Mm, I missed these,” he bit his lip as he squeezed one of your breasts. You closed your eyes as his lips closed around your nipple. You found yourself pushing against his hand in hopes he’d just give you some sort of relief. Your grip on his hair tightened as he used the tip of his tongue to tease your nipple. You knew what he was doing. He always did this when he wanted to let you know that he wanted to tease your clit.
“Please, Samu, I need you,” you whimpered as he began to suck on your breast. “Please.” He looked up at you through hooded eyes and began to unbutton your jeans. His dark eyes never once leaving yours as he slipped his hand down your pants and against your wetness. You lifted your hips hoping to coax his fingers in, but he just teased you.
“Tell me, pretty girl, what do you want me to do to you?”
“I want you to fuck me.”
“Not this?” He slipped a finger past your wet folds and pushed it deep inside. You curled your toes as you cried out his name.
“More.”
“More? Another finger, or something bigger?” He asked as he began to rub light circles against your clit. You practically shoved him down on his knees as he continued to finger you. “Oh, does my girl want something wetter, then?” Osamu licked his lips greedily before capturing your clit between them. You threw your head back and cried out. Your muscles tensed as you felt your climax rapidly approaching. You had to admit, your boyfriend was really skilled with both his hands and mouth. He added two more fingers knowing you loved it when he stretched you out. He thrust his fingers in faster knowing how close you were. “Cum on my fingers, pretty girl. Come on. Yeah, that’s my girl. You’re so good for me, yeah?” He continued hitting your spot until you squirted all over his fingers. You let out a frustrated whimper when you felt his tongue against your sensitive clit. You might’ve been overstimulated but that didn’t stop you from pushing him closer. He slurped up your juices before going back up for another kiss. The taste of your desire on his tongue only made you want him more and he knew it.
Osamu said nothing as you began to undo his pants. There was no way he’d dream of stopping you now. He moaned against your lips as you pulled out his cock. You continued to kiss him as you smeared his precum over the tip of his cock. His fingers dug into your hips as you tightened your grip around his shaft.
“Get on the desk,” Samu demanded. You looked over at all the papers he still had on the desk. “Be a good girl and get on the desk or I’ll be very upset with you,” he whispered in your ear. Quickly you pushed your worries aside and sat on his desk. He stood in between your legs kissing you a while longer before he spread them. He stroked his cock a few times before lining it up with your entrance. He teased you, knowing it was always so much more fun when you were overstimulated and desperate. He slid the tip of his cock against your clit until it was hard again. You lifted your hips in the hopes he’d just slip it in, but he wasn’t going to give in that easily; no matter how much he wanted your pussy. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, but he only shook his head.
“Patience, pretty girl.”
“Samu, please. I want your cock in me.”
“Tell me how much you want it in me.”
“Enough to take down all the decorations,” you whimpered as he pushed the tip of his cock past your lips.
“What will Tsumu say then?” He teased.
“I don’t care. I just want you.”
Osamu pulled you in for another kiss as he thrust inside you. You screamed against his lips as your legs tightened around him. He wasn’t going to go easy on you. After all, you just told him how badly you wanted his cock. He was in the holiday spirit, he was willing to give you this one small present.
Your moans filled the empty restaurant as he fucked you senseless. You could hear the papers beneath you tear, but neither of you cared enough to stop. Your body was on fire the more his cock punished your core. You held onto him tightly as he pushed you down onto his desk, your legs pressed against your chest as he pushed into you as deep as he could. He let out a moan as your walls spasmed around his length.
“That’s my girl, come for me again. Let’s come together.” He bit into your neck as he came inside you. You cried out as he continued to thrust into pushing his cum deeper and deeper. By the time you came down from your high you were barely cognizant of what was going on around you. You whined as your boyfriend slowly pulled out of you, your juices dripping down your legs onto his desk.
“Shit, these papers are destroyed,” he sighed as he lifted you up off the table. “Was worth it though.” He pulled you in for a hug and laughed as you squealed. “Sit down. I’ll grab you a snack and something to drink,” Osamu walked towards a small cabinet in his office and pulled out a blanket, “Here you go, baby.”
By the time Osamu came back you found yourself starting to doze off again. “Do you want to sleep on the couch, baby?” You looked back at him almost confused. “You forgot about the couch, didn’t you?” He laughed as he picked you up off the chair.
“Can you blame me? You practically fucked me stupid.”
“Uh huh, excuses, excuses.” Samu kissed your lips as he laid you on the couch, snuggling up to you right after.
“Samu, if you really want, I’ll take down the decorations.” Osamu almost looked insulted at your offer.
“Baby, you don’t have to. I kinda like them. Just don’t tell Tsumu. And maybe we can put some mistletoe at the entrance of my office too.” Osamu buried his face in your neck as soon as he saw your face light up. “That doesn’t mean we’re gonna do this every night, got it?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
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sunarc · 6 months
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cw: breeding,videotaping, belly bulging,
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Any chance he gets he likes to watch his cum drip from your holes, his favorite being your pussy. He calls it his tight little cum bucket. He’ll chuckle a grin as he wipes any residue of cum from your fold with his cock and shove it back into your hole. 
“You know I hate being wasteful” he groans as he sinks his cock back into you. 
You can barely pull yourself together as you whine and whimper from the overstimulation. He’s so sadistic he’ll make you hold the camera up to your pussy so that you can get a view of how he fucks the cum back inside. He knows you can barely keep your eyes open so holding a camera is almost impossible at the moment. 
“Come on I thought you wanted to make a movie” he grins menacingly staring deep into the camera. 
Your moans are desperate and loud. He gives you slow long strokes just so he knows you can feel every vein and inch of his cock. 
“Tell the camera where you feel me Angel” he licks his lips eyes filled with lust.
He knows exactly where you feel him. The print of his cock fucking into you is evident.
“Right here” you slur as you place a shaky hand on your lower stomach while the other holds the camera barely able to keep your hand steady.
He places his hand there and pushes down slightly.
“That’s where our baby is gonna be” he whispers
You let out a loud moan at the pressure of his hand. The feeling is so overwhelming you almost drop the camera. 
“Don’t drop it ” he chuckles darkly “or we’ll have to start all over again” 
He pushes your legs further apart so he can shove himself deeper in between them. His thrust are steady as he fucks you. You feel your body jolt back with each rough stroke. He grabs you by the throat pulling you close to him. 
“Come, I want you to get a good view of how your pussy’s sucking my cock in”
You're trembling holding the camera up. Your moans are loud you feel the embarrassment flooding through you thinking about looking back on the video. 
“Look at that, damn near sucking me dry.” 
The squelching sounds that pair with his thrust leaving you whimpering. Everything leaves you moaning desperately. His hand grips your throat holding you up so you can get a view of how he fucks you. His cock feels so big all you can do is moan and drool at the sight of him plunging himself deep into you. He’s been fucking you for so long your voice has grown hoarse. 
“You’re so messy” he chuckles “We’re gonna have to change the sheets after this” 
His eyes are trained onto where the two of you meet watching the way your juices spray out onto him. 
“You see that baby” his grip on your throat tightens as his thrust pick up speed “She’s telling me how much she loves me”
You’re too far gone, you can barely form words. 
“Keep that camera steady, I want you to catch how pretty this pussy looks with my cum dripping out”
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Gojo, Toji, Getou, Nana-fucking-mi, Matsukawa, Suna, Osamu, Kuroo, Sakusa, Kita, Tsukishima, Connie, Onyankopon, Levi
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natriae · 11 months
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nsfw D, E, M with osamu pleasee!!
yay! my first ask for the event<33
Miya Osamu NSFW alphabet
(included both if you have a vagina or penis)
D: Dirty Secret
He would love to make people watch. Like Sunarin (that smug ass). Mainly because he wants to shove in his face how hot his partner is. He wants nothing more then to spread out your pussy lips and show him just how wet you get but NEVER let him touch. And if you have a penis he wants to jerk you off in front of someone and show just how whiny you get. He wants Suna or really anyone to watch you squirt all over his strong arms just from fingering you, or wants someone to see just how quickly he came make you cum with his skilled hands.
E: Experience (how experienced are they)
i completly headcanons that Osamu has some experience with sex before he met you, but not a lot. He knew the basics, but he took a lot of time getting to know your body and just what makes you cum. Definitely a giver not a reciever.
M: Motivation (what gets them turned on)
there are many things that turn him on, but he never out right says it. One of his biggest turn ons is when you start talking back. One late night on face time you and Sunarin kept arguing. In the end you called Suna a lot of word like dumbass, ect. And Osamu was so turned on over this. Everytime he watched you take a deep breath and then absolutely destroy is childhood best friend with just words he swore this could be a record with how fast his dick popped up. Safe to say that facetime call ended so after, and your face was being shoved into the couch.
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a-kaash-me-outside · 8 months
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Hi Tori love! Hope you’ve been doing well c: Would love to hear 17 and 24 with Osamu Miya from the subtle smut prompts list if you’re up for it! <3
hi bb. ty for the prompt! srs love all these little subtle prompts. ily.
<3 send me a subtle smut prompt <3
///
“i could come from just lookin’ atcha,” he says, nearly purrs into your ear before pulling away to watch your face morph into the pretty reactive expression.
you place your hand on his chest, pushing him away so gently that both of you can barely feel the pressure. “shut up,” you pant, turning your head to the side to evade his eye contact, forearm finding its way in front of your burning cheeks.
osamu wraps his hand around your wrist, slowly pulling your arm back down to your side. his rhythm doesn’t waiver, repetitively driving inside of you as he stares down at your quivering lip and your furrowed brows.
“m serious, doll,” he presses, “gotta slow down so i can really savor ya.” as the sentence leaves his mouth, his movements do exactly that. his quick, driving thrusts turn to slow rolls of his hips, palms pressing into your waist to hold you perfectly still as he fucks into you.
you mutter his name over and over, swallowing every other call for him in your gasping breaths. “s-samu,” you choke, “s- ts so good, need- need your..”
he shakes his head, smirking, cutting you off, “oh, baby girl, i could, just from looking at you and your pretty gasping face,” he punctuates his cooing with the sound of his hips slapping against the insides of your thighs, “but i need this to make this last, pretty.”
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sir-kuroo · 7 months
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𖦹 f!reader, just rough unprotected sex
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HE HURT HIMSELF while playing volleyball again and just like the usual, you kissed his wound before keeping the medicine kit. "This hurts too," he whined and you gulped when he brought your hand over the huge bulge of his gray sweatpants, dragging it along his waistband, which you didn't hesitate to pull down. Your eyes widened as his erect cock popped upright. Your tongue reflexively moistened your lips at the delicious sight of it.
"Would you give it a kiss too?" He whispered under a sleazy grin.
"Which lips do you want?" You breathed out and you surely saw him get a tad bigger.
He ran his curled finger over your lips and you anticipated sucking it, but he pulled away.
"Is this one ready?" He asked while the tip of his fingers rubbed your pussy over your panties like he's squeezing the juice out of you. "Fuck..." He hissed, seeing how quickly he made you feel aroused. "Just the sight of my cock and you're this wet."
"P-Please..." You begged as you rolled your hips against his touch.
He groaned in return unable to hold back any longer. Positioning yourself over his lap, he set aside your panties and aligned his cock on your entrance. Without hesitations, he pushed his hips upwards, penetrating you deep.
You moaned and he grunted. He didn't bother taking it slow and he slammed with endless speed, making you wrap your arms around his strong body. "W-Wait! Wait! I can't...take it!" You pleaded but he didn't budge, instead he got both of his palms on the surface of the bed, pushing himself up and down against you and showing you who's in control. You felt your inside heating up as his dick felt like tearing you apart yet it felt so good you're about to lose your mind. Your head swung back not bearing the intensity and soon, you let go of your hold of him, your back falling in bed. He hovered you, not letting go. With such force, he rammed into you finishing himself. You convulsed, cumming hard around him at the same time.
You both caught your breaths and he placed gentle kisses on your temple. "Does this hurt?" He asked, tenderly touching your pussy. "Do I have to give it a kiss?" He whispered and you knew you couldn't stop him. Your head started spiraling when he sucked you in, bringing you back in bliss again probably for the entire night.
—♡ kuroo, bokuto, oikawa, atsumu, lev, osamu, iwaizumi, ushijima, terushima, daichi, hirugami
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