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hyeque · 2 years

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asking him for nudes [nsfw]

feat. tsukishima, kuroo, kita, atsumu, tendou

notes: will probably do a version of this for jujutsu kaisen

warnings: female!reader, masturbating, degradation, edging in atsumu’s, atsumu flashes his team 😕, implied cum eating in tendou’s

tsukishima is annoyed, but when is he never? you begged and whined for nudes while the man was at work, for god's sake. he firmly told you no in the beginning and to stop acting like a brat. but when you kept pushing for some, and sending clips of how needy you were, he broke his composure.

the blonde slips into the employee bathroom, locking the door. finally freeing himself, he's already half hard. tsukki sends a picture of himself, smug expression and all with his pretty cock in frame. 'here. happy now?'. and of course he already knows the answer to that when you send a pouting picture in return. tsukishima can't help but take advantage of the photo to get himself off. he makes a video, spitting out profanities and words of degradation while he fucks his hand. he doesn't grant you the pleasure of seeing his face while he does. he knows how much you love seeing his face, but you disobeyed him, and this is punishment.

'you better not touch my cunt. i'm going to fucking ruin you when i get home.'

kuroo is ecstatic. he'll do anything for his pretty baby and the man is more than glad to send you some nudes. he doesn't send them right away though because he has to tease you first. he first sends a picture of his hard on through his slacks, the caption 'this what you want, baby?'. he knows you want more but he wants to see you say it. after successfully getting you to beg, he sends a video of him touching himself through his pants, telling you how it isn't nice for you to get him this worked up right now. how if you were in his office he'd have you bent over his desk. but of course kuroo asks for you to send nudes in return because he's dying to see just how wet you are for him.

being in his own office with no one else in the building, he doesn't hold back. he is loud—very loud. he's moaning your name excessively and telling you how good you always make him feel. asking you if you'll ride him and clench down like you always do so perfectly. his vest and button up are undone and you can see all of his toned chest. he whines and mumbles about how well you take him and how he can’t wait to fuck you. not long after, he orgasms and uses a tissue to clean himself.

'your turn, baby. let me see that pretty pussy i'm going to stuff full later <3'

kita is flustered. when he received a text from you saying 'there's an emergency' he was prepared to drop his farming tasks for whatever you needed. he wasn't expecting you to send him a video of you touching yourself, saying how much you need him. this is all new to him, but he wants so desperately to please you, so he tries his best. kita shreds his clothes, his fit and toned arms and chest in view, beautifully tanned from working outside. he truly looks ethereal.

he feels shy and a little embarrassed showing himself nude on camera but if anyones seen the man, there's absolutely nothing embarrassing about how pretty his cock is. he doesn't realize how pent up he actually is until he starts stroking himself, his whines and moans get gradually louder as he thinks about you and your cute cunt. but however the romantic person kita is, he starts rambling about how beautiful you are, and how he can't wait to start his own little family with you. he thinks you'll look so pretty round and carrying his babies. don't you? he rambled about how he'll take good care of you and your family. there isn’t anything that turns him on more than the thought of you having his kids. he knows you two planned to wait a little longer, but there’s nothing wrong with a little head start, right?

'sweetheart ya can't go and startle a man like that, now hurry home from work so i can finally have my way with ya. need ya pregnant by the end of the day'.

atsumu is smug. he knows he's attractive. he knows he's irresistible. especially when it comes to you. when he saw your message about sending nudes it was right after his practice had ended. sweaty and high on adrenaline, the blonde doesn't need to do much to get himself worked up. just seeing the messages of you being needy could be enough to get him to cum. but he is a performer, and as a performer, he must put on a show.

he teases you in the video, asking you just how badly do you want him and how you want him to take you. he assures you not to worry your pretty little head too much because however it is, he’ll be having you cum multiple times. the thought of getting you off brings himself to the edge and he knows he’s about to cum. but what's this? atsumu stops himself right before he can. his dick is a deep, scarlet red and his hard on by this point is near painful. but if there's one rule atsumu has, it's to not waste his own cum. the only place it belongs is inside of you and not the shower floor. once he’s done edging himself he sends a picture of his painful, rock hard cock.

he ignores the cries of his teammates and the noise of disgust (from sakusa specifically who said for him to 'put that thing away') when coming out the shower. he’s just trying to make it home to you now.

'ya don't know what you just started, angel. ya better be face down, ass up on the bed when i get home. yer not sleeping at all tonight.'

tendou is spontaneous. one nude was never the same from the last one. you're convinced that him sending nudes is more enjoyable for him than you, considering how worked up he gets. there was one instance where he told you he had a 'surprise for you' to bring home from work, and the man came home with his dick in a box full of chocolates. needless to say, if you didn't have a sweet tooth then, you do now.

but imagine this time around asking for some nudes he actually beats you to it, asking to send something at the same you do.

"i've been waiting for you to ask for this~" he sings in the video "i've been working on something for you, mon chéri~'. your anticipation eats at you while you wait, but it’s quietly followed by a gasp at the sight on your screen. low and behold, the man had made a chocolate mold out of your pussy. how he did it, you don't know. do you even want to know? you're even more choked up when you see him fuck the mold, his pretty moans taking up the video. your eyes are drawn to his slender hips and the way he moves them. you hate to say it, but you really do envy chocolate right now. tendou sweet talks you, saying how he wish he can't wait to have the real thing, and how your real pussy is much sweeter than any chocolate. a cute smile is plastered on his face and his pale skin is flushed a pretty pink, the way he shudders lets you know he's close. he loudly moans your name, cumming deeply inside the chocolate. grinning at his work, he shows it to the camera.

'i made all of this nice filling for you. you're going to eat it all, right?'

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sweetbbyshion · 2 years

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You're so adorable, baby. I hope you learned your lesson. *I wipe the drool and cum off your chin and place another small kiss on your forehead* Are you doing okay? Do you want to take a bath?

-Atsumu

Of course I didn't learn my lesson Tsum, you know me. But yeah, I'm ok. Just really tired.

#kora's asks!#kora's anons #atsumu anon🏐#number 1 brat #i will do it again

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reallyromealone · 3 months

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Hi can you do a long story about the Miya twins taking care of their brother (age 5) he's mad at them because they were late to picking him up and them trying to make it up to him

Title: forgotten

Fandom: haikyuu

Characters: Atsumu Miya, Osamu miya

Warnings: male reader, fluff, child reader, slight hurt to comfort

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

The twins were rushing, they knew they fucked up as they went to the preschool at nearly an hour late where their five year old brother stood with a seething glare "where were you two!" (Name) barked angrily as he crossed his arms "I been here forever with Mrs. (Teacher)!" The twins sighed as they knew this wasn't going to be easy, food wouldn't make him not angry this time.

"Sixth time this month!" The little one wouldn't let them hold him, only holding on to Osamu's finger "sorry bud, practice delayed!" They wasn't a good enough answer as (name) looked at Atsumu with puffed up cheeks and glared "bad reason!" He grumbled out, the two signing as (name) grumbled.

They knew they needed to do something bigger to make this up to the little one who was fed up with his brothers.

(Name) had to begin wondering if his brothers even cared at all.... Always forgetting him like this.

The twins noticed how upset the youngest was, the two feeling shitty for forgetting him.

So they did the most logical thing.

Spent 100 dollars each at an arcade with him, snacks games and toys formthe rest of the day "woo! Get it!" Atsumu said as Osamu held (name) up so he could play "win those ticket's!"

The twins held the prizes they won, the two using their coordination to their advantage as (name) ate a riceball from a convenience store they passed.

"You know we love you right?" Osamu asked the tyke, both crouching down to his level when they got home and (name) looked down and didn't answer "hey, none of that's Atsumu said to the boy seriously "you're our baby brother, we love you brat"

"Don't call me a brat!" (Name) fired back and Atsumu grinned in an annoying big brother "then stop acting like it!"

"Dummy!"

"Shorty!"

Aaaaand things were back to normal.

#haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #Atsumu miya #osamu miya #atsumu x reader #Atsumu x male reader #Osamu x reader #osamu x male reader #male reader #x male reader #child reader #child male reader #anime x male reader #anime x reader

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cutecatlov3r · 10 months

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my character ai bots:

bnha-

dabi: toxic bf , mafia au

denki kaminari: your a milf

eijiro kirishima: dying his hair

hanta sero: shotgunning w him

katsuki bakugou: he smells good , mean ass soulmate , ghostface katsuki , rivals to lovers , he’s bad w feelings , your pro hero fiancé , if you die so do i , girl dad

izuku midoriya: corrupting the religious boy

jjk-

gojo satoru: can’t get enough of him , vampire au , wardrobe malfunction , your affair , he’s annoying , his eyes r funny looking

geto suguru: dad’s best friend

nanami kento: healing your daddy issues

yu haibara: he’s gone , he’s sick , he admires his upperclassmen

yuji itadori: your parents hate him , best boyfriend , dorky best friend , he’s delulu , captain of the football team , gossiping w him , older brother’s best friend , you have a bf already but he loves you , your his mentor , shibuya arc

megumi fushiguro: step brother

yuta okkotsu: your a fan , welcoming the new boy , he likes when you pull his hair , he chose geto’s side that day , your best friend

haikyuu-

atsumu miya: your annoying neighbor , he’s drunk

iwaizumi hajime: scolding you after your ex did you dirty

kei tsukishima: he hates you(?)

kotaro bokuto: he’s spiderman , your his fan , emo mode

kenma kozume: streaming wars , cat hybrid , he hates you , he hates brats

hinata shoyo: healing your issues , he got sick , u get ur head hit w a ball

tetsuro kuroo: studying w him

koshi sugawara: he’s your son’s teacher , your coworker , he’s jealous

keiji akaashi: he loves feeding you , the pretty setter

yuu nishinoya: he’s drunk

demon slayer-

sanemi shinazugawa: training w him , your roommate

aot-

eren jeager: smoking weed w him

blue lock-

nagi seishiro: coke head

bachira meguru: you’re his therapist , pervert bachira

death note-

touta matsuda: he has a little crush , admiring his boss

csm-

denji: blood lust , walking home w him , mommy issues

sk8-

reki kyan: he’s a zombie

fairytail:

natsu dragneel: mating season

nanatsu no taizai [seven deadly sins]:

arthur pendragon: your his servant , you saved him , he saved you , your his holy knight

hxh:

kurapika kurta: your loyal to him , it’s only you and him

killua zoldyck: he’s your little brother

the disastrous life of saiki k:

kusuo saiki: he’s self aware , your ordinary

if you have any recommendations on more bots I can do lmk ! i’ll be adding a bunch more :x

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suashii · 3 months

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— 𝒿𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎, 𝒿𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎 ౨ৎ

suna rintaro x reader. 1.6k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ college au ﾉ suna and reader are roommates ﾉ jealousy ofc :3 ﾉ + atsumu appearance !

moving in with suna was a bad idea.

he’s not a bad roommate. sure, he takes extra long showers and uses up all the hot water at least once a week and you’ve had to remind him to wash his dishes every now and then, but he’s not a bad roommate.

your frustration that comes with being suna’s roommate has less to do with him and more to do with the feelings you’ve been hellbent on keeping a secret ever since they became known to you a few weeks ago.

that much is getting harder these days with midterms being upon you. there’s been a girl over the apartment—some chick suna was paired with to work on a presentation. that fact alone doesn’t bother you; suna was kind enough to ask before inviting her over. she’s where your problem lies.

she’s shameless, really. always laughs a little too loud at jokes that aren’t that funny and always sits a little too close to suna when you’re positive the coffee table they’re working at isn’t that small. and the worst part is that suna is oblivious to it all.

even now he’s blissfully ignorant of the way she’s not so discreetly flirting with him. she’s supposed to be packing up to leave but, like she’s had some sort of life-changing revelation, she stops in her tracks and turns to suna, placing a hand on his shoulder. “you have a volleyball game this week, right?”

from the kitchen counter, you roll your eyes and stuff another spoonful of rice into your mouth. you wouldn’t normally eat in the kitchen while she was here but one too many spills by your laptop and the inevitable crumbs left in your bed have kept you from taking your meals back to your room. you’re starting to think a sticky keyboard or the unpleasant feel of tiny pieces of food against your skin would be preferable to whatever you’re about to witness.

suna nods and she pulls her hand away to clap. “perfect! i’ll be there to cheer you on!”

her exaggerated excitement causes you to snort, earning the attention of both of them. there’s a curious expression on suna’s face but the girl is all but staring daggers at you like you popped her bubble of joy and ruined the moment. you’re tempted to laugh.

“sorry, saw something funny on my phone,” you lie, shooting the two of them a smile before turning around to wash your dishes.

you dawdle at the sink until you hear the front door close. suna appears as you’re drying your hands and you spare him a glance, wondering if he’ll bring up your strange behavior. part of you hopes he does—maybe then you could open his eyes, finally make him privy to that girl’s blatant attraction to him.

he doesn’t question it, though. instead, he asks, “can i see what you were laughing at?”

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

“you don’t get it, ‘tsumu, she’s actually the worst,” you tell him, dramatically dropping your head on his shoulder.

“why don’t you just leave when you know she’s coming over?”

your eyes cut over to atsumu, an unsavory frown tugging at your lips due to his outrageous suggestion. you can’t believe your best friend would side with her. “why should i? i’m the one who lives here.”

“because, clearly, it’s bothering you.” he isn’t the least bit apologetic for his outlandish recommendation. “look, it’s either that or you come out and tell suna that you like him. i’m tired of hearing you bitch and moan every time i’m here. we’re supposed to be watching them do that.” atsumu points to the screen of your laptop that’s playing some trashy reality show the two of you are hooked on.

you click your tongue at his blunt response, lifting your head from his shoulder. maybe he’s right—complaining won’t get you anywhere, but you’re too proud to tell him so. “hey. this is the thanks i get for putting up with your relationship problems? you ungrateful brat.”

you flick his forehead which elicits a shocked gasp from the blonde. a victorious grin is in the process of making its way to your lips when the plush of one of the many stuffed animals you keep in your room hits your cheek. your jaw drops in surprise at atsumu’s courageous counter.

“i’m going to kill you.”

you aren’t usually one for using your precious plushies as a weapon but any one within your reach is promptly launched at the setter. he dodges some and is whacked by others, all while theatrically screeching for you to stop. you’ve still got some steam left by the time you run out of ammunition and atsumu can tell. he reaches out, taking your wrists in his hands to prevent you from doing anything.

“wait, i’m sorry,” he breathes out, strands of messy hair falling in front of his face. “truce?”

you’re considering whether or not you want to take him up on his offer when your door swings open. suna’s on the other side.

his eyes scan the room, taking in the mess of colorful stuffed animals strewn across the space before they land on you. not you, but the way atsumu’s holding you. something about it makes his jaw tighten.

“hey.” your voice, breathier than usual, convinces suna to meet your eye. “what’s up?”

the scene he walked in on almost made him forget why he’d come by in the first place. “i’m ordering food. do you want anything?”

you hum in contemplation and then smile. “i’ll have whatever you’re having.”

he nods, readying to close the door. “i’ll call you when it’s here.”

the click of the door shutting sounds over the indiscernible voices coming from your laptop. taking your hands back from atsumu, you straighten out your clothes as thoughts of suna cross your mind. he usually finds any way to make a conversation drag, lingering in your doorway even when you’ve told him to leave so you can go to sleep.

you’re about to ask atsumu if he caught on to his friend’s abnormal lack of words, but he’s got another idea.

“yeah, thanks, i don’t want anything,” atsumu shouts at the closed door.

forty minutes pass before the episode ends and atsumu takes his leave. you see him out, planning your next viewing party as he puts on his shoes. he whispers something about settling shit with suna before then so he isn’t subject to your fussing the next time he comes around and darts down the hall before your fist can meet his shoulder.

you make a mental note to get back at him when you see him tomorrow as you shut the door and spin on the ball of your foot. from the foyer, you can see suna situated at the coffee table. there are plastic delivery bags on the surface and he seems to have already started eating from his portion.

“what happened to letting me know when the food was here?” you ask, shuffling over to his figure and plopping down on the floor beside him.

through a mouthful of noodles, he replies, “i didn’t want to interrupt.”

you almost scold him for talking with food in his mouth but then his words register. your eyebrows furrow as you split your wooden chopsticks. “interrupt what, exactly?”

it’s petty, he knows, but he can’t ignore the feeling that’s been gnawing at him since he saw atsumu touching you so comfortably. it’s like the image is seared into his eyelids and he’s forced to see it every time he blinks.

“i don’t know.” he flicks a mushroom with his utensil. “just seemed like you two were in the middle of something when i walked in.”

you hum, not paying much mind to his words as you pick up the stir-fry with your chopsticks. the noodles hang right in front of your lips when you respond, “i guess we kind of were.”

suna frowns at your answer. he wanted to hear you say it was nothing so he could kick himself for being so unreasonably bent out of shape. instead, your reply fuels him to ask the question he’d been wondering about for nearly the past hour. “are you and atsumu together?”

“what?” you sputter around your noodles. you want to tell him no but, unlike suna, you aren’t one for talking with your mouth full. your silence, however, only leads suna to keep going.

“i don’t care if you are but you should have told me so i wouldn’t just barge in on-”

“i’m not dating atsumu,” you finally reveal after swallowing your food. you’re not sure what possesses you to say the next part—perhaps you feel the need to really drive your point home—but it comes out speedily. “i like you.”

quiet blankets the room following your declaration. the two of you stare at each other with parted lips, suna’s eyes slightly widened in surprise. his lack of a response makes your heart beat heavily against your chest. it’s loud in your ears and you wonder if he can hear it too.

you breathe out an awkward laugh after a couple more seconds of silence. “look-”

“i like you, too,” suna admits.

“jeez, suna, you should have just said that!” you slap his shoulder, cheeks warming in belated embarrassment. “i thought i was going to have to move out because of one-sided feelings.”

“sorry.” he chuckles, rubbing the spot you had just hit. it didn’t hurt, but it felt different than the ones he had been met with in the past. he could get used to the tingles you leave behind on his skin. “i had to let it set in.”

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna x you #haikyuu x you #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #suna drabble #haikyuu drabbles

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sir-kuroo · 1 year

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𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐘𝐒 ♡

𖦹 ft. haikyuu boys 𖦹 themes: 18+ sex toys, mentions of bondage, pet play, semi-public sex, teasing 𖦹 notes: characters may repeat on type of toy, they might be using all of these but I categorized this as their favorite to use on you ♡

♡ LOVENSE LUSH KENMA, *atsumu, *KUROO, ushijima, hoshiumi, suna, *OIKAWA, bokuto, daichi, kageyama, sakusa

he loves this ldr toy because he can rein in you by playing with the vibration patterns through his smartphone. watches you pulsate on VC your own liquid spilling out of your pussy. biting his lower-lip as he pumps his dick so hard and ready to explode. *maxes it up and tones it down playfully to tease you. watches you secretly in public, strain on his pants as he put himself on the edge, enjoying the risk of being caught watching you drenched, convulsing and moaning his name over his earphones.

♡ VIBRATING COCK RING kyoutani, sakusa, suna, bokuto, HINATA, yamaguchi, SUGAWARA, lev, kita, hoshiumi

wears the ring, though it barely even fits him. he loves to rile you up with extra cock power! you feel both the size of his dick and the vibration coming through that you might have cum at the very instant he inserted his dick inside you.

♡ CUFFS & LEASHES KUROO, osamu, ATSUMU, semi, HIRUGAMI, kageyama, ushijima, DAICHI, kyoutani, hoshiumi

not really a toy but it has to be mentioned. your hands in collars you and drags you in a leash as you suck him, hand runs through your hair as he guide your head with your mouth around his cock. lovingly pats your head afterwards for being the good girl pet that you are.

♡ MASSAGE WAND *AKAASHI, kita, SUGAWARA, yamaguchi, YAKU, hirugami, HOSHIUMI, bokuto, lev, kenma, hinata

he loves it when you reach out for his head from behind as you sit on his lap, your moans so close to his ear as he has the full access to your neck. whispers "that's my good girl," "my princess" as he runs the wand against your nipples and thoroughly on your pussy. your ass massaging his dick, making him hard as fuck while you squirm against him.

♡ WIRELESS VIBRATING EGG *OIKAWA, *atsumu, *OSAMU, *KUROO, kenma, suna, *tsukishima, IWAIZUMI, SEMI, *tendou

remote's in his hand and shamelessly will control it while you're outside as he acts so naturally like he's not stirring your insides. it can be whenever like when you're just for a walk in the park or in the gym doing the treadmill. sometimes, he'll do it as punishment for you acting like a big brat and you have to keep it inside you and not let it fall in between your legs or else everybody will find out. *when you can hardly keep your whine to yourself, he'll whisper "so dirty, can't keep it to yourself?"

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itspeachyp0p · 3 months

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Just think about it for a sec. Setting Valentin's Day, you not so secretively hinting what day it is, him pretending he can't exactly remember why today is so special. You’re upset no matter how much he thinks it's cute to play dumb, even if he's hiding a little surprise for you. You go out with your girls, have a little fun night out, maybe come home a lil tipsy and come home to him waiting on you in just…a robe, his boxers, or maybe fully nude and standing behind something to tease you with his V-line.

Candles illuminate the room, gifts or sweets await you on the table and he's looking at you like you're a masterpiece even with your jacket hanging off of you and still a little mad. I'm talking about the men who pick you up and put you on that table, pushing your legs as far as they’ll go with a sly grin. “What pretty? Mad at me? Lemme fix that.” is the only thing he says before pulling your panties to the side and eating you like a starved man. Sucking and flicking his tongue at your clit until you’re whining, moaning into you like he's dining on a 5-star meal. He’s not stopping until you’re crying from overstimulation, drawing every orgasm out of your body as he greedily laps at your juices and only raises his head from your thighs to chuckle at your disheveled state. “You got another in you, I know you do. No, no, let me spoil that pussy, cum in my mouth again.”

Or or .ᐟ.ᐟ

Men who are bending you over the counter and pulling whatever clothes you got on out the way once you start whining and bratting he forgot today. “Baby I didn't forget a thing, you were just being impatient.” He’s so nonchalant about it, pissing you off more as you wiggle under him only to be meant with his chest pressed against your back and his weight fully on you. “You can either cut the shit and I'll fuck you until morning or take a few spankings and no dick.” With an ultimatum like that you shape up quickly, pressing that new nail set into the countertop as he backs off you, stripping your lower half to see you're already ready for him. “Wet from just that, I haven't been giving my needy girl the attention she deserves, I'll make up for it.” He definitely makes up for it, stuffing you nice and full with his cock. Giving you long, hard and deep strokes that reach that one spot that makes you cry out, kissing your neck, whispering the nastiest things in your ear until you’re cumming all on him and he's switched paces just to hear that sweet sound of skin slapping. Maybe be fills you with his cum, maybe he pulls out and paints your ass with it. Either way you’ll have forgotten all about him making you mad.

No matter which it is he's going to pull you into his arms, holding you tightly as he whispers “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe”

Jean Kirschtein, Keigo Takami, Connie Springer, Erwin Smith, Tetsurou Kuroo, Atsumu Miya, Tooru Oikawa, Jason Todd, + Any of your favs(or JJK men but I just started it and idk who fits)

#smut imagine #imagine #x reader #quick write #attack on titan x reader #dc x reader #haikyuu x reader #my hero academia x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #connie springer x reader #erwin smith x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #miya atsumu x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader

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emmyrosee · 2 months

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i am back once again and reading your atsumu and kuroo works 💪💪💪

personal favs are probably dad!au’s because OH LY GOSHSKE THTEYRE SO CUTE like no need to make me scream at the most random points throughout the dayJEJSSJJSDJS

idk. i DID have a random thought when reading one of the atsumu stories (i think it was the one where hisako was being a little rat???) and i wanted to share.

the thought was about hisako randomly calling her father old and i imagined papa tsumu getting all insecure and sulky whenever the topic of age comes up. bro literally ends up checking for white hairs in the mirror even though he knows damn well he just dyes over them, even checks his behaviour to see if he does anything that’s considered “old school” iykwim ?? AND HISAKO DOESNT MAKE THIS ANY EASIER FOR HIM BECAUSE SHES A MENACE (like her father frfr)

no idea what i’m doing, actually. just wanted to share 🙏🤭🤭🤭🤭

HE LITERALLY BECOMES “how do you do, fellow kids” IM SO DEAD-

“Baby, do you think I should completely go blonde?”

“No, Atsumu.”

You continue to fold your clothes while Atsumu pokes and pulls the hair at his scalp, searching and digging for any semblance of grey that may try to peak out. He’s gotten a few from the undercut, but now the ones at the fluffy mop of hair adoring the top of his head is harder to find. He’s determined, and if it wasn’t making him so self conscious, it be cute watching the corner of his tongue sticking out as he plays with his hair.

“You sure? Because my grey’s aren’t as visible.”

You sigh and make your way to your husband, laying a hand on his shoulder, “honey, I don’t care if you have blonde hair, or straight grey hair. I love you. I’d just hate to watch you change your entire being because our little terror has been a little more feral lately.”

He pouts and pulls you in for a hug, “I’m getting old.”

“We both are, baby.”

“Yeah, but you’re aging beautifully. I’m aging like milk.”

“Okay, that’s it-“ you say firmly, leaving the room briefly to head to hisako’s, who’s playing with her toys post-bath and in her favorite jammies. “Hisako, baby, can you come talk to daddy? I think you made him a little sad when you were teasing him earlier.”

“Daddy sad?” She asks, eyes curved in worry.

“A little bit. Come on. Let’s go get daddy.” You scoop her up in your arms and make your way back to your bedroom, “atsumu, hisako has something she’d like to say to you.”

He winces, but she reaches her arms out to him to be held, which he does. “I’m sorry daddy!” She chirps. “Was only teasin’ like uncle Samu. No hurt feelings!”

He smiles and rests his head against hisako’s, “thank you baby… daddy was just feeling a little self conscious about it.”

“No, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to…”

“I know angel girl,” he assures, kissing her temple. They stay close, relishing in each others warmth while you smile close by, but when hisako pulls away and tugs a grey hair out of Atsumu’s head, you pinch your eyes with a smirk.

“Got it daddy!” She giggles.

“You little brat,“ he pinches up her sides while she squirms in his grip, but it seems only to be playful as she gives him a childish, wet kiss on his cheek after.

“Just kidding daddy!”

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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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