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a-kaash-me-outside · 3 months

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a bit dirty - ch6

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 ♡

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.

taglist: @miyaluv127 @useless-bicth @mushasstuff @unstaaableaf @mimivinx @tsukiran @kurapika-1999 @hehatesmati @karmakarter @hunny-hotline @bella009888 @um-no-ok @footjib @mon-cherries @privthemis @agashki @renster05 @greeniegreengreen @tokyo-banana @fandomtrash5092 @coyloves @heathsuii @pasta-water @ran-rangasma @ayz-it-they @ellesalzar @dabibreeder @s4m1 @perry-gallifrey @barely-coherent @katsunarii @thisbicc @jaynawayna @levis-wheelchair @sugar-crumbs @miyaslvt @sheeshizzy @i0nlyr343mut @ajbutasimp @snazzyturtles @idontevenknowlolls @nicerthanu @angelgvtzzz @lovely-part-time-whore @lilac-ski3s @dovenu @heirxx @kur0obaby @tetsuswhore @alienvarmint @georgettesand @misfit-megumi @bijuu-naginata @captain-alien-america @ti-mame @buckys-hoeee @whos-curiosity-killed-the-cat @stargazing-girl @whoisgami @zany17 @privthemis @pennylanewrites @buckys-hoeee @avfox24 @reinertiddiejuice @poke-pia @its-simply-me19 @nahcho @sugamonster22 @destinyg237 @msbyomimi

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

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 :)

#osamu x reader #osamu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #osamu x reader smut #hq x reader smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haiykuu x reader smut #miya osamu x reader smut #osamu x reader fluff #osamu fluff #osamu fic #hq fic #toriwritesshit #abd update!

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chikaras-garden · 1 year

Text

Mean Streak (reader's version)

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?

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.

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.

#osamu smut #miya osamu smut #osamu x reader smut #osamu x you smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x you smut #osamu x you #miya osamu x you #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #🌸— mine.#🌸— osamu.

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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.)

+ 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.”

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu imagines #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyu x reader smut #kita shinsuke x reader smut #kita smut #suna smut #rintaro suna smut #Osamu smut #osamu x reader smut #hq headcanons #Osamu miya smut

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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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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.

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?”

#osamu x reader smut #osamu miya x reader smut #Osamu miya x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #Osamu smut

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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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sunarc · 6 months

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cw: breeding,videotaping, belly bulging,

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”

Gojo, Toji, Getou, Nana-fucking-mi, Matsukawa, Suna, Osamu, Kuroo, Sakusa, Kita, Tsukishima, Connie, Onyankopon, Levi

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sir-kuroo · 8 months

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𖦹 f!reader, just rough unprotected sex

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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natriae · 1 year

Note

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.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#miya osamu #osamu headcanons #osamu smut #osamu imagine #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader smut #osamu x y/n #haikyuu smut #osamu miya #osamu x male reader #osamu x female reader

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a-kaash-me-outside · 9 months

Note

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.”

#shut up tori #toriwritesshit #osamu x reader smut #osamu x reader #osamu smut #hq smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #hq x reader smut

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hqkalon · 8 months

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tying up men twice your size, just to feel him thrust into the palm of your hand as he continuously chants curse words underneath his breath. “fuckk angel.” his dick twitched in your hand as you continued moving your wrist in an upwards-twist motion. usually he’d be the one reflecting the same actions on you, but much meaner. his low pants turned into small groans, watching the head of dick disappear in the palm of your small hand. “shit baby, i’m bouta cum.” he looked up at you through the wet hairs sticking against his forehead. “oohh fuckk!” you watched as his caved in, seeing how his beautiful muscles flexed as your fist tightened around his length. “angel..” his husky voice almost sounded like a pleading cry as he threw his head back against the headboard— you began pumping faster, feeling his hips jerk up, “anggh fuckk. c-cumm-ing.” he groaned, shooting a load with each stroke of your palm as he hummed in pleasure. “good boy.” a mischievous smirk ran across your face as he replicated the same devious grin. “now it’s your turn pretty girl.”

reiner, sukuna, yami, gojo, bokuto, toji, miya twins, getou

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tonycries · 1 month

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I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera

Synopsis. On your knees in front of your boyfriend, it was just an innocent video, right? So why are you hearing his best friend’s voice from behind the screen?

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, being recorded, voyeurism, oral (male receiving), exhibitionism, mentioned threesome, cowgirl, dirty talk, pet names (babe), swearing.

Word count. 1.5k

A/N. Surprise post. Art by @_3aem on X.

“Smile for the camera, babe.”

You would - if you weren’t choking on his throbbing cock, tears streaming down your cheeks, throaty little gurgles muffled by his leaking tip hitting the back of your throat.

The flashlight was blinding.

Harsh light bouncing off your boyfriend’s half-lidded eyes, pupils blown. Chest rising and falling erratically, hungry gaze locked on the way you gag and moan around his dick. “Mmm yeah- oh fuck yeah, deeper. Milk me dry, babe. Look s’pretty on film.”

Strangled praises only spurring you to obey mindlessly, you relax your throat - shoving his pulsing dick deeper and deeper. Inch by inch. Your nose pressing into the tufts of hair on his pelvis, wet with precum and spit. Too cock-drunk to think too hard about the rustling from the screen.

Precum salty on your tongue, you flick his sensitive slit in a way that makes him throw his head back - phone unsteady in one hand, the other searing on your scalp. Breath hitching, he bobs your head in increasingly urgent movements - up, up, up. Desperate, jerky thrusts of his hips like he’s trying to fuck something delicious out for you.

Your boyfriend's knuckles are white on his phone. Deliriously, you wonder why the fuck he even bothered with the video at this point - too shaky, too impatient.

Almost as if he could read your mind, a low whisper rings in your ear, breath hot on your face. “Don’ worry about that, babe.”, zooming in on your swollen, glossy lips. “Jus’ focus on what you’re doing like the filthy slut you are.”

Feeding off the electricity crackling in the air, you tighten the hands massaging his tight balls. Pressing right between them in the way you knew drove him crazy.

You squeal - as much as you can with his throbbing erection lodged in your throat - nails digging into his hips as they tremble and buck into your plush mouth. “Ah! Oh fuck- Hngh- Baby, m’gonna m’gonna-”

His words turn into breathy moans, signaling the beginning of the end. With a final thrust, he explodes in thick ropes of cum that paint your mouth white. You struggle to swallow the hot spurts of seed quickly enough, coughing around his twitching cock. Cum spilling out of your bruised lips, specks splattering onto the back of his phone.

Tears stinging your eyes, but you still refuse to break eye contact - batting your lashes innocently at him as you milk his cock for everything he’s worth.

Chest heaving, lust-drunk words tumble out of his lips, “S’perfect. Look at her hah- look how fucking pretty she swallows my cum.”

Words you’re slowly realizing aren’t meant for you.

Heart dropping straight to your dripping cunt, eyes widening as it strikes you - this fucker was on video call.

Now, he didn’t mean to trick you. He really did feel so awful about it - but watching the way his pretty girl’s lips stretched so sinfully around his cock - he really couldn’t bear to be stingy enough to hide it.

Which is why, a dangerous smirk playing at the corners of his lips, he pats your hair soothingly as you sputter. “Now now. We’re not done yet. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t give my buddy a front row seat to you creaming on my cock?”

Humiliation mingling with something carnal inside you, you freeze in shock as an awfully familiar voice chuckles from the phone. “C’mon now, sweetheart. I bet you’ll cum faster with an audience.”

Thighs squeezing together. Heat rushing to your cheeks. Shit. Maybe you will.

And for all the dark confidence on your boyfriend's face, you relish in the breathless gasp escaping him as you stand. Knees stinging where you straddle his hips - still-hard cock glistening with cum and saliva, leaking onto his toned abdomen.

Surprise flickers across his face, swiftly replaced by a predatory excitement echoed by the appreciative groan from his best friend.

“Well, might as well put on a show, huh?”

And with that, you sink down completely onto his still-sensitive length, groaning at the feeling of him throbbing inside you, heavy balls pressing into your ass. Tears clinging to your lashes at the delicious stretch, you don’t give yourself time to adjust to his thick cock, grinding in feral, mindless motions with reckless abandon.

One hand has a bruising grip on your hips, steadying your rhythm as he thrusts up into you at an unforgiving pace matching yours. The other, angled just right to capture your dripping, wet hole stretched so shamefully on his throbbing dick.

“That’s right, show him that perfect view. Goddamn. Imagine how jealous he is- fucking his fist just wishing that was you.”

“Sh-shit. She jus’ got wetter. Looks s’good with her pretty pussy stuffed.” Low groans spill from his phone, making you buck \wildly into his twitching cock.

White-hot ropes of pleasure run down your spine at the lewd squelches sounding from the speaker - your boyfriend’s best friend not even trying to hide his desperate chase for pleasure.

Balls stinging your ass at the merciless cadence, it’s all you can do to brokenly stammer out “Sh-show.”

A moment fumbling to switch the camera and you wince as the light hits your eyes. A jolt going down your body at his best friend’s disheveled state.

Greedy gaze flickering between your boyfriend - brows furrowed and bottom lip under his teeth as he focused on fucking your snug cunt - and his best friend on the screen - hungry gaze locked on you and thumb mercilessly teasing his leaking tip. Veiny hand moving up and down. Up and down up and-

“Shit, baby. You’re hah- clenching down on me so hard, like being watched, hm?” a dangerous murmur. You whine mindlessly in agreement, mixing with the relentless slapping of skin as you fuck yourself deeper and deeper onto his heated cock.

“Hngh- M’getting so fucking hard just watching her drunk on your cock. Look s’good split open on it.”

“Yeah? She’d probably look better split open on two. Maybe we should let you join in next time. Would you like that, babe? My little cockslut?”

You jolt as you’re finally addressed as the men spoke over you as if you were nothing more than an object. A carnal, ugly part of you delighting in the way you were so used.

“Oh god, yes.” you pant, words pulling you closer and closer to the edge, head spinning so deliriously. “Wan’ both of you. Wanna feel both of you inside me. I need it.”

Your boyfriend's eyes narrow, pupils dilated with lust as he responds, “Anything for my greedy girl. But for now…” his voice trails off, thrusting deeper into your snug cunt.

Onscreen, his best friend groans, doubling down on the hasty hand moving along his throbbing length. “Fuck, I wish I was there.”

A hum of agreement, “C’mon now. Beg me to fill you up, slut. Make sure our lil’ friend hears how desperate you are.”

“Yes, yes, yes” you chant, lost in the haze of pleasure. “Fill me up, please. Want it dripping out of me.”

At your words, your boyfriend’s pace falters, thrusts becoming erratic and desperate as he approaches his climax - his best friend not far behind, fist flying fervently up and down his glistening length - in tandem with the ruthless cock ramming into you.

“God. Such a good little slut f’us” your boyfriend praises, voice strained with pleasure. “Cum for us, baby. Let us see how much you want it.”

And that’s all it takes for you to see stars behind your closed lids, riding out wave after wave of pleasure on your boyfriend’s twitching cock. Finally, he empties inside you with a guttural groan, filling your fluttering walls to the brim with his seed.

So much- there was so much. Seems he was the one that adored having an audience. Though, with the way your pussy is greedily milking his cock, you can’t say you’re far behind.

Your thighs shake in pain and pleasure as his hot cum leaks out of your overfilled pussy, dripping down your legs and onto his quivering balls as he fucks into you like an animal. Over and over and-

With all the strength you can muster, you crack an eye open to glance at the screen - only to catch the heavenly sight of him losing control. Fist faltering on his throbbing erection as with a final, forceful tug he spurts thick ropes of seed. An orgasm so hard that it leaks onto his lap and reaches his chest.

The three of you chasing peak after peak. So sinfully.

Your ears ring, vision spotty as your high finally bates. Spent, you collapse against your boyfriend’s muscled chest, heart hammering wildly against both of your ribs, and cunt still twitching in sensitivity.

Still disoriented and completely fucked out, you almost miss the low murmur from above you. Almost.

“Can’t wait till you’re here to see this in person.”

- GOJO and GETO, TOJI and SHIU, SUNA and Osamu, ATSUMU and SAKUSA, Eren and Armin

A/N. I miss when this song was everywhere.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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