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#hq!! writing
xfgpng · 1 year
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“just the tip”
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when he first met you, he found you annoying. it wasn’t because you did anything in particular, he just couldn’t understand how you could get underneath his skin with just a slight tilt of your head or the way you laughed with your whole body, pretty eyes crinkling at the corners.
you were kind to him sure but you never really showed interest in him outside being acquainted. it drove him crazy.

why didn’t you want him because fuck, he wanted you so badly.
he’d be up and nights, big hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he closed his eyes, thinking about you and your pretty face. he wondered how you’d look laid out underneath him, struggling to take his cock because he was just too big for you.
how your lips, always glossy and plump due to your lipgloss, would look wrapped around the mushroom head of his dick. he had to bite back a moan, tightening his hold around the base so he could edge himself. he needed you so badly that he could barely focus on any other girl.
the man was convinced you were using those crystals he had heard your friends talking about. why else was he so into you when you gave him no impression that the feeling was mutual.
“fuck fuck fuck” he whines, whines like a bitch and he should feel embarrassed but he can’t even think about how desperate he sounds. he thinks it’ll be worse when he does finally get the courage to speak to you one on one.
he had no issues with getting around, his own friends like to call him a slut but he didn’t care and he was absolutely willing and ready to stop his one night stands if you just let him put the tip in.
he needed to have you.
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|| eren, suna, bokuto,toji&gojo
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noosayog · 1 year
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[baby fever] ft. ushijima wakatoshi
wc: 400
iwaizumi | atsumu | osamu | sakusa | kageyama
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You’re standing outside the gym where the Olympics team is practicing when you see Iwaizumi walk by, hand in hand with a clumsily waddling toddler. Iwaizumi nods at you and the toddler waves a chubby arm at you. You giggle and wave back. 
“Did you want to wait inside?” Iwaizumi asks. 
You’re about to decline when the toddler tugs on your fingers. 
“Come in?” he asks. 
You agree, letting him lead you by his grip around your ring finger and pinky. Inside the gym, Iwaizumi asks you to watch his son as he finishes up with the team. The child quickly settles into your lap, his babbling trailing off as he dozes away. You’re fiddling with a loose thread in his little sweater when Wakatoshi comes up behind you, freshly showered. He greets you with a brief kiss on the head and sits quietly next to you when he sees the sleeping kid in your arms. 
“Who’s this?” 
“Iwaizumi’s son,” you respond distractedly.
Ushijima stares intently at you as you gently rock the small child in your arms. He continues to watch in silence as you double-knot his shoelaces, straighten the sleeves on his sweater, and swat away the drool at the corner of his open mouth. He notices when you laugh quietly at his little snores.
His eyes are still on you when you finally look up at him. 
“What,” you laugh. “What are you looking at?” 
Before he can answer, Iwaizumi comes to relieve you of childcare duties. He thanks you and you assure him that his son was wonderful. 
“You’re in a good mood,” Ushijima states. 
You only smile at him, swinging your clasped hands in wide arcs and skipping a bit. 
Later that night, with your back nestled into his broad chest, he rubs a warm, large palm on your tummy. The gesture is innocent and gentle, but the circles get slowly wider. 
“You like kids, huh?” As he talks, the palm slides up to cup your breasts. 
“Is that what this is about?” 
“What do you think,” he asks, hands not stopping. “About having kids.” 
You push him onto his back and roll on top of his chest, eye to eye with him. He gazes at you lovingly and you’ll never get tired of it. 
“I want a girl,” you say. “I really want to see your big muscly arms holding a pink blanket with our little daughter in it.”
He gives you a confused look, “if that’s what you want.” 
He flips the two of you over, hands back on your body. 
“What are you doing!” you laugh. 
“Starting now,” he says simply, as his hands continue their trail down your body.
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tojisprettywife · 2 months
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{note: i rewrote this, with b.s.t (hope someone gets the reference 🧍🏻‍♀️) anyway i cried, it got deleted first. i’m sleepy, hopefully it’s okay. minors DNI.}
warnings: smut. characters! m! x f! reader. characters are aged up to 21.
inexperienced men. who for the very first time feel, what a pussy feels like. your gummy, warm walls clenching around his throbbing cock. the way he clenches his jaw and gritting his teeth, to regain composure from cumming almost immediately. “f-fuck…so tight ..”. your pulsing soft walls suck his cock in, barely holding himself up. the way his soft, silky locks fall on your chest as he’s hunched over you. only gasps, curses and more whimpers slipping out of his lips. “so.. t—tight.. shit..”. pushing his full length into, till the base, gripping the plush of your hips, a bit too hard, in meek attempts to stop himself from painting your tight walls white. after what seems like forever, he slowly moves his hips, each stroke, sending shivers down his spine. he leans down to kiss you, again in attempts to keep him from moaning loud. he pushes his tongue into your mouth, his tongue lapping yours. but soon, the kissing gets sloppy, saliva dripping down both your chins. he leans down, burying his face into the crook of your neck. his teeth grazing the base of your neck, as his hips erratically, in haste buck against yours. the sound of his balls slapping against your ass, filling the room combined with his little whimpers and yours. “i-i’m cum-ming… f-fuck” he buries himself to the hilt, pushes himself even deeper, his tip bruising your cervix. his eyes squeezed shut, biting down your shoulder lightly. his cock, pumping ropes of milky, sticky cum. his cock twitching inside you, panting against your neck. just as he catches his breath, your walls convulse around his twitching cock, overstimulating. “o- fuckkk.. f..ck” barely able to form coherent sentences, slurring his words. burying his face into the pillow, beside your head, to stifle his moans. muffled moans, teary eyes as one hand gripped your waist tightly, bruising them lightly and the other hand gripping the sheets, crumpling them. his first feel of a vaginal orgasm. he presses soft kisses from your jawline to your neck, “it feels… so good.. one more time?.. please baby?..”. no longer will his hands suffice for him, as he felt what heaven feels like, you.
~ Choso Kamo, Gojo Satoru, Oikawa Toru, Nagi Seishiro, Inumaki Toge, Miya Atsumu, Naoya Zenin, Yuuji Itadori, Kageyama Tobio + whoever you want 😵‍💫
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uravitypng · 1 year
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tsukishima lets you take some kind of control, just this once. you're bouncing on his cock and he's hitting all the right places. tsukishima's got his hands on your hips just looking up at you taking in the way you move. how your stomach jiggles and your thighs are slightly shaking, how you're out of breath and how loud you're moaning. it's a shame you have no neighbours, everyone should know how good he makes you feel. he wraps one of his hands around your soft neck, applying slight pressure, you clench up at the feeling, making him groan.
it's all getting to much much for tsukishima, you feel so good and so warm but you're going too slow, it's infuriating. tightly putting both his hands back on your love handles, he starts lifting you up and down on his cock. he's trusting upwards the same time too, keeping the rhythm.
you always tend to forget how strong tsukishima really is and right now he's proving it as he's using you as some kind of glorified sex toy, pounding into you however he wants and using your body to get himself off. "you were being too slow. fuck." he groans, staring at your breasts as they move along with his thrusts. your moans get even louder, chanting his name over and over again in a whiny voice. "make yourself useful slut and touch yourself," you immediately obey as you bring your hands up to nipples and start touching them and pinching them. tsukishima smirks up at you, taking in all your beauty, taking in how you always listen to him.
it felt good to control the pace of sex but this feels better. plus your thighs were starting to get tired.
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heich0e · 1 month
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"are you like... into that?"
you tear your eyes away from the screen a few seconds after rintarou says it, too rapt by what's unfolding in the movie scene to look away too soon.
"what do you mean?" you ask, glancing over to the other end of the sofa where he's seated. he's slumped down in the corner of the sofa, nestled right into the valley between the cushions where he always sits—which has resulted in a permanent sort of vaguely rintarou-shaped indentation that you hide using throw pillows when company comes over.
he's watching you very intently from his side of the sofa, too intently almost. you'd thought you'd felt his eyes on you while you were watching the movie, but you aren't exactly sure how long he's been staring, and now it leaves you wondering what exactly he's up to.
rintarou nods towards the television on the other side of the room, you look back at the screen once more and see the male lead still at the centre of the scene. he'd just gotten into a fight—shirtless, glistening with perspiration, and a strangely erotic trickle of blood trailing down his philtrum. you swallow a little as you become engrossed in the movie again, forgetting momentarily that you were ever asked a question at all.
"so?"
your eyes snap back to rintarou—who's still focused only on you, but with a slightly more disapproving look this time.
"what?" you ask him, a bit huffily. you're still not even sure what he'd been asking you in the first place.
"you've been ogling that guy since he got the shit kicked out of him," rintarou says pointedly, lifting a hand and gesturing towards the television. "you into that or something?"
there's something kind of accusatory in his tone.
"wha—hu—no," you stumble over your words in your haste to defend yourself. "i've told you i'm not into hardcore stuff. and that would constitute like... doctorate level BDSM."
rintarou's lips purse slightly. "do you think that guy's hot?"
"i mean... yeah," you answer after contemplating it for a moment. "i didn't really think so before but he's kinda sexy in this scene."
"he just got the shit kicked out of him," the boy at the other end of the sofa responds flatly.
"so you've pointed out," you answer. you turn back to the screen, watching as the battered male lead winds a roll of bandages around his ribs, then drags his knuckles roughly across his lips to clear away some of the blood that clings to them. your tongue peeks out to moisten your own unconsciously. "don't you think there's something kind of hot about a guy with a bit of blood on him?"
"is this a trick question?"
you look back at rintarou again, and find him still fixated on you rather than the film. he's pouting a bit, and it kind of makes you want to laugh. instead, you push yourself up from your own little nest at the opposite end of the sofa, crawling down towards him.
"rintarou, are you jealous because i called the bloody guy sexy?" you ask him as you pause at his side, resting back on your haunches.
he nibbles on the inside of his cheek—a habit he's had as long as you've known him—and for the first time in possibly the entire 54 minutes this movie has been playing, he averts his eyes from you.
"...no."
you do laugh then, swinging one leg over his lap to perch yourself atop him.
"you're being silly," you say to him as you balance yourself with your hands on his shoulders. his own come slithering up to settle at your waist, and his grip is a little tighter than you expect. he's still sulking though, refusing to look at you.
there's a loud crash in the film playing on the screen behind you, but you don't turn to look at it—you doubt that would help the situation at hand very much.
"rin," you coax him, making your voice as sweet as possible.
he doesn't look at you, but he does seem to bite the inside of his cheek a little harder now.
you dip down close to him, your mouth hovering over his and your eyes level. "rin-ta-rou."
he finally looks at you, his lips parting in surprise at your sudden nearness. you're so close that your mouths brush slightly thanks to that subtle movement, and he leans into the warmth of your lips to kiss you properly after getting such a small taste of it.
rintarou pulls away after one long, deep kiss, slouching back into the sofa again—but this time pulling you down with him into his little him-shaped indentation—holding you tightly to his chest as he gets you both comfortable. you let him maneuver you however he wants to, placating him with your docility to make him feel better, and keeping any comment about his jealousy to yourself—at least for now.
the two of you eventually find a comfortable way to rest, entwined together on his end of the sofa but both with a clear view to the screen to resume your spectating of the movie.
"what's so hot about a guy with a nosebleed anyway? i used to get them all the time when i was a kid," rintarou mumbles bitterly after a few moments, and you feel the words reverberate through his chest as you rest with your head upon it.
you laugh lightly, and your boyfriend's arms tighten around your waist.
he pipes up again after a few moments more pass in the film.
"you don't want me to start fighting or anything, do you?" he asks you skeptically.
you've effectively lost track of the movie's plot now, but you don't really care that much.
"no, rintarou, i don't want you to start fighting," you reply, patting his chest reassuringly. "you'd get your ass kicked anyway."
"well, apparently you're into that," he mutters.
"will you be quiet and just watch the movie, nosebleed boy?"
(a week later, rintarou sends you a photo from practice—having gracefully taken one of motoya's receives to the face—with an angry red welt on his cheek, blood dripping from his nose, and an obnoxious smirk on his lips. unfortunately, you are kinda into that.)
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hqkalon · 8 months
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he knows how big he is and he loves hearing you whine as he slides his length through your wet folds. watching you squirm as his teases you before actually inserting his cock into your greedy cunt. "p-please." your pretty pleas fall in vain as he continues his through his action, "you gotta beg better than that pretty." greed trailed throughout his sinful tone as his hands ravished your body— fondling your breast before caressing your cheek. "can you please give it to me." your starry eyes found his, watching the corner of his lips curve into a taunting grin. "give what to you pretty girl?" his hips began stroking through the slick of your aching folds as he watched you come undone underneath him— groaning by the sudden action of you subconsciously grinding against him. "please f-uck me." your eyes glanced in the other direction, feeling his eye bore into yours— making you fully aware of what just spewed from your lips as embarrassment took over your face. "that's a good girl." your tummy flooded with warmth hearing such praise as he lined himself against your entrance of your wet hole. "here's your reward princess." his hips snapped against the plush of your ass, stretching you out so perfectly as your nails clawed into the back of his shoulders, "nghh fuck." you whined, body rocking back and forth as he pounded into you relentlessly— stuffing your cunt full. "this is what you wanted yeah?" he hummed against your ear. “hope you can handle it.”
geto, miya twins, toji, simon, eren, gojo
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planetsano · 8 months
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everyone should have a token pussy eater on their roster. a man that wouldn’t even dare to take out his cock if all you did was tell him to eat your pussy. a boy that’s so well behaved he wouldn’t even entertain the thought of letting his cock pry you open if the initial goal is to make you cream on his tongue. it should be a god given right, really.
imagine how nice it would be to have an armin or a shoyo willing to drop to his knees so he could push his tongue past your folds— sucking on your clit, lapping up your juices as if you’re some sort of summer fruit. a megumi or a yuta eating you out to make an insufferable day just a little bit better.
boys who can cum in their pants by only having his head between your legs as he ruts against the bed. glossy and puffy lips that are slightly parted as he catches his breath. yeah. ♡
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armin, jean, connie, yuuji, yuta, inumaki, megumi, isagi, hiori, yukimiya, tanjiro, shoyo, sugawara, keiji, takemichi, kazutora, chifuyu, call 1-800-token-pussy-eater for more information.
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earthtooz · 1 year
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fluff, apologising and making up after a 'fight' kind of drabble bc i miss suna <3
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suna rintarou shows up to your university on the third day of the silent treatment.
the sight is a surprise, to say the least. your pro-volleyball player boyfriend standing outside your faculty’s building with his hands in his pockets, blending in with baggy jeans, a hoodie, and a cap. he looks the part of a university student, but you could never be fooled, not when he's 6'3 with an equally admirable stature from exercising.
amongst the crowd of outflowing students, the dark-haired spots you, olive eyes widening upon seeing you. he pushes himself onto two feet before walking over to where you stay rooted, dodging the students who just came out of the same lecture.
“hi,” suna greets, stopping just a few feet away from you. the sight of his lopsided smile is enough to get your heart racing again. you've missed him so much.
regardless, you cross your arms to keep up an angry front, not wanting to give in to his charms just yet no matter how good he may he at using them. 
“what are you doing here?” you ask bluntly, betraying the butterflies in your stomach.
his expression doesn’t falter at your iciness. “not happy to see me?”
you are happy to see him, very much so, especially when he has taken the initiative of literally showing up at your campus and waiting for your classes to be over to see you. he must be tired from practice as well and you know too well that mondays were never kind to him. 
so the fact that suna came all this way for you makes you feel a little special. 
he’s even wearing some of that cologne that you really like and unless it’s for special occasions, you know that your boyfriend is never bothered enough to wear any fragrance. he is so sly that you could kiss him.
“not particularly, suna.” you say in response, lying through your teeth.
suna clutches his chest like he’s been shot, making a gasp of offence at your statement. “babe, after i came all the way to campus? i thought i’d never want to come back here but i made some exceptions for the love of my life and this is what i get in return?” 
“suck it up, i guess.”
“-and who on earth is suna? never heard of him. can’t believe you’ve already forgotten my name after three days, i’m losing sight of reality, babe hold me, i might faint.”
“whatever,” you chuckle a little at his antics, eyes softening with a certain fondness that suna doesn’t miss. his lips twitch upwards at the sight of it.
this is his chance to win you back. he throws his line in in hopes of catching you hook and sinker. 
“let’s go to dinner tonight,” he offers, recovering from his previously downed position, voice contrastingly soft and gentle to smoothen his proposal. 
“what, so you can stand me up again?” you quip, instantly slicing the atmosphere to turn tense as the line snaps in half.
suna’s grin falls, morphing into a guilty frown. “c’mon pretty, that’s mean. you know how sorry i am, i didn’t mean to forget about our plans.”
you huff, letting your arms fall back to your sides. “i know, i know, but you standing me up just stung. it was frustrating because i made time for us that i could have used to study with instead,” you confess. “you know how stressed i’ve been with finals.”
the athlete stuffs his hands into his pockets awkwardly. “but i’m trying to make up for it.” 
“i know and i appreciate it, but now’s not a good time. i’m sorry but i can’t go to dinner tonight or any time soon, i have a bunch of practice tests to do that i can’t keep putting off.”
“then can i come over?” asks suna, a hopeful lilt to his voice.
“and watch me study? do you really want that?”
“i just want to be with you, i can order us takeout or something- on me.”
“guess i’m just irresistible, huh?”
“duh, do you know how much i suffered during the weekend? missed you so much, practically died from boredom.”
“oh so i’m just another person for you to bother? is that how it is?” you ask, unable to contain your smile. 
the dark-haired scoffs. “c’mon babes, you know you’re better than that. you’re the only person i can bother.”
“oh fuck off,” you whack his shoulder teasingly. “also for your information, you’re not coming between me and my education.”
“ambitious people are a turn-on,” he mutters with a shrug before pulling you in to kiss your cheek.
“ew get off me, freak,” you joke whilst shoving him, not rough enough to actually create distance but suna still stands his ground from the force. his hand goes to hold your other cheek as he smothers you with over-exaggerated affection. 
you laugh in his hold, holding on to his wrists for balance. “suna!” you yelp when he pushes too much weight onto you, causing the two of you to stumble sideways. “actually get off me.”
“can’t. won’t. don’t want to. this is what you get for not responding to me all weekend- what does  a man need to do to get a text back from the love of his life?” 
“easy. be a man.” you step out of his grasp with a satisfied smirk, beginning to walk away from your boyfriend who stares at you with his mouth hung open in disbelief. inevitably, suna runs up to you.
and as he encases you with his arms in the middle of the empty gardens of your university faculty, you know that the two of you will be okay. even if suna is the bane of your existence, there is no one else for you like him. 
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© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
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delirious-donna · 3 months
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tw: female reader, suggestive, yearning, reader is adored, could be considered somno but reader wakes up before anything starts, implied pussy eating, he just loves you so so much
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The bed was pleasantly warm, so comforting against your spine. Soft sheets cradled your form as if trying to lull you into slumber, whilst the book you held slipped between your fingers as tiredness pressed against your eyes.
The spotlight from the bedside lamp painted the most magical shadows against the wall, the conjurations seeming to dance from the gentle fairy lights that twinkled around the room's edges. It was like a fairytale landscape but you fought the sleep that tried to tease you into surrender as if it were a dragon to be slain.
You waited, not sure how much longer it would be before you could be reunited with your lover. It felt too empty in here without him, his presence such a welcome and soothing one that you missed it all the more when he was gone.
Thoughts of the man you loved were the last ones you could recall before sleep pressed you deep into the mattress.
You were so cute, sweeter than the sugary candies he sometimes indulged in, and he was dying for a taste.
The sight of you prone on your squishy bed, chest rising and falling gently whilst you slumbered was just what he needed after the tediousness of the day. The veil of fatigue lifted enough to know that he wouldn’t be ready for sleep until he had you in his arms, his lips on every inch of your glowing sleep-soaked skin.
He padded silently towards the bed and knelt carefully so as not to disturb his sleeping angel.
For a long moment he admired your adorable pyjamas with the white fluffy bunny print–his personal favourites–with a lazy smile curling his lips at how the shorts bunched around your plush thighs. It was like he could already feel your softness beneath his touch, and he swiped his tongue across his teeth at the thought.
Slowly, like a stealthy animal, he crawled towards you. He watched through hooded eyes as he kissed up your smooth calf, enjoying the slight squirm of your hips when he reached the inside of your knee.
You smelled of your favourite body wash and he inhaled deeply until only you filled his head. He palmed you through the thin barrier of your pyjama shorts, instantly feeling your warmth and wishing to nuzzle against you.
It strained his dick to almost pain. The restraint of his pants uncomfortably tight, length throbbing with the close proximity to your pretty little pussy. His pretty little pussy… fuck.
Carnal thoughts of tasting your unique essence on his tongue, your thighs pressing against his ears and the hands that would switch between caressing and tugging on his hair, filled his mind. It made him crazy with need for you, and only you.
Deft fingers curled around the flimsy waistband, tugging the shorts down your legs until they flew into an unknown corner of the darkened room. Groans of you waking roused him enough to stare into that sleepy face that made him want to present you with his heart on a gilded platter.
“Baby?”
“Mhm, it’s me. I missed you,” he assured whilst his fingers tangled with your own, shifting your hands into the messy strands of his hair before pulling away to trace the glistening pussy lips that he was desperate to taste.
You blinked rapidly at familiar eyes glazed with desire, and it was enough to twist your stomach into knots. The swell of emotions that he evoked in you was so powerful that you could sense the slick building with every second that passed.
His lips were feverish, a contradiction to the usual cool sweep of his mouth, as they pressed against your skin. His dexterous hand snaked between your thighs only for you to press them tightly together in a mixture of embarrassment and seeking out that much-needed friction.
You let out a whimper as he sucked bruises of possession into your flesh, almost crying out aloud in simple ecstasy when he spoke once more.
“Now spread your legs and try to tell me about your day.”
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Kuroo, Bokuto, Daichi, Suna, Osamu, Kakashi*, Obito, Kiba, Nanami, Gojo, Choso, Erwin, Levi, Reiner, Kunikida, Fuzukawa, Chuuya, Aizawa, Keigo, Sebastian, Hanma, Zhongli, Wriothesley, Kaeya + your fave that fits the story!
*I’m including Kakashi even though he doesn’t like sweets!
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kaiijo · 11 months
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NICKNAMES — MIYA ATSUMU
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pairing: miya atsumu x gn! reader content: timeskip! atsumu, fluff, suggestive
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atsumu’s always liked nicknames, ever since he was little. it’s evident in his calls for “‘samu” and “omi omi” and “bokkun.” he’s never once called suna by either his first or last name; it’s always been sunarin.
atsumu can’t remember the last time he called you by your actual government name. it’s always baby, sweetheart, babe. you always grin at him when he does, pecking his lips and wrapping your arms around him.
but you still call him atsumu. not love or honey or baby, not even ‘tsumu. it makes him huff and pout and he’s honestly on the verge of a tantrum when he thinks about it. he uses every pet name under the sun for you and yet, to you, he’s just plain old atsumu.
the two of you are sitting on your couch, you cuddled under his arm, watching some show on netflix that neither of you are really paying attention to. your phone buzzes and you lift it, snickering at a message one of your high school friends sent you, and when you open up your messages with her, atsumu blanches at the contact name.
“baby!” he whines, making your head snap towards him. he detaches himself from you and crosses his arms.
you raise an eyebrow. “everything okay, atsumu?”
he only frowns further and points accusingly at your phone. “so, ya can call yer friend ‘goddess shimizu’ but ya can’t even bother callin’ me ‘babe’?”
you blink owlishly at him. “what are you talking about?” you set your phone on the sidetable and fully turn your body to atsumu, who’s sinking further into the couch cushions.
“why do you call me atsumu?”
“because that’s your name?”
“no!” he says, “i mean… why don’t ya call me anythin’ else? like any nicknames? ya don’t even call me ‘tsumu and literally everyone does unless they’re mad at me.”
you sigh heavily, “you’re not serious.”
“it just… i—”
your face softens as atsumu struggles to find the right words, and you place a tender hand on his knee. “atsumu,” you say gently and he glances at you. “i use your name because i like your name. it’s you. it’s yours.” your hand moves under his chin and you tilt his head. “you’re atsumu. you’re my atsumu.”
the possessive tinge to your voice sends a jolt of electricity down his spine. “yeah?” he says, mouth stretching into a dazed smirk. “i’m yours, huh?”
you reply, “yep, all mine.” you cup his face with one hand, stroking his jaw with your thumb. “as long as you want to be.”
“think yer stuck with me for a while.”
you chuckle, “i think i can live with that.”
atsumu pulls you to straddle his lap, running his hands up and down your thighs. your own hands settle on his shoulders as he asks, “can ya do me a favor, though?”
“sure, what is it?”
he blushes a little and says, “call me somethin’ cute once in a while.”
“hmm, like this?” you hum, leaning forward, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “baby.”
atsumu feels his brain turn mushy as you dip your head, pressing a slow kiss to the skin of his neck just below his ear. “love,” you drawl out again and the mindless chatter of whatever show you two were watching fades into static. atsumu’s stops rubbing your thighs, gripping them tight instead.
“sweethe—” your purr is swallowed by atsumu’s mouth in a fiery kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, salacious and solicitous. your fingers card through his hair and you grasp a few strands, tugging and relishing in atsumu’s moan.
seems like you’ll be calling him a lot more than atsumu from now on.
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noosayog · 1 year
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[baby fever - aka 6:36 PM] ft. iwaizumi hajime
wc: 200
ushijima | atsumu | osamu | sakusa | kageyama
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You watch as Miya Atsumu settles into his seat in front of the reporters before setting the little toddler into his lap. She babbles quietly, incoherently as Atsumu answers question after question. 
“Yeah,” you hear Atsumu say, “I think the team works really well together because-” 
“Wa!” the little girl interrupts. 
“Because of our high school rivalries-” 
“Wawa-chan!” 
You watch Atsumu’s little daughter lock focus on Hajime standing next to you, reaching her stubby arms out to him. 
“Wawa-chan!” she repeats. 
Atsumu laughs, “she loves Iwaizumi, our athletic trainer.” 
You look over at your boyfriend, who’s trying to keep a straight face but also raises a hand to wiggle his fingers at the little Miya, who giggles in return. 
“I didn’t know you liked kids,” you whisper at him. 
“I don’t,” he says, all the while still making funny hand motions. 
“If you like them so much,” you snake your fingers into his large palm. “I could help you out.” 
Hajime squeezes your palm in reprimand. “Behave.” He looks over at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Anyway I’d like to get married before that.” 
You sigh dramatically, “such a gentleman. You weren’t last night when we were-” 
He slips the hand that was holding yours around your waist and gives the fat of your hips a solid squeeze. “Behave.” he whispers against your ear.
“Or I’ll make you later.”
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tim-shii · 2 months
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a/n: im pretty sure this is my first work for haikyuu IM EXCITED I WANNA WATCH THE MOVIE ☹️ accept this offering 🫂 pspsps not beta 🤗 also the word pretty is overused .. i mean suna is pretty so 🧍‍♀️
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“babe, i’m home— woah! i didn’t know we were at this stage in our relationship. finally admitting you’re obsessed with me?”
“shut up, rin.” coming home after a practice match to you lazing around on the couch, wearing his shirt? a jaw dropping view. suna admires the way his band t-shirt hangs loosely around your figure. your hair is a wet mess, you must’ve just taken a shower, and your eyes are practically begging to be closed. yet, suna thinks you look as beautiful as ever. fuck. if you guys weren’t already married, he would’ve proposed to you right there and then because you just look so perfect right now.
the light from your phone illuminates your facial features. his eyes rake from your lashes down to your lips. that brings a smile to his face. he drops his bag by the door and stalks over to where you are, dropping his whole weight on you.
“rin! get off— you’re heavy and sweaty!” try as you might but an over six foot tall athlete boyfriend is not easy to push off. “but you love me!” he buries his head in your neck with a groan.
“if i didn’t, i wouldn’t have a ring with your name engraved on the inside.” you sighed in defeat. to say that suna rintaro is a stubborn man would be an understatement. he’s pettier than a five-year-old and throws tantrums when his affections are rejected or not reciprocated.
he pushes himself up with his arms beside your head and looks down at you with a grin that only means mischief. “you are so in love and obsessed with me that you steal shirts from my closet. aren’t you a cutie?” he squeezes your cheeks with a calloused hand and makes kissing noises. he’s so stupid, you think. you just wanna stupidly shut him up.
and so you did, pulling down his chin with a hand of your own. capturing his lips in a fervor kiss comes easy as breathing. you feel his breath hitch for a second before he returns the favor.
suna pulls away first, slapping a palm over your mouth after. (“mmph?!” you glared)
“you are a menace. taking advantage of a man like me? evil!” he pulls his palm away and bit your cheek.
“i married a drama queen.” you rolled your eyes.
“you love this drama queen!”
“you sure about that? what if i married you for your money? or i married you for your— i don’t know, looks.” suna narrows his eyes at you before a mischievous grin spreads across his pretty face.
“i don’t know, babe. your vows said otherwise. what was it again? i am the luckiest person alive to be standing with you today and to be facing life with you everyday—”
“liar! those weren’t my vows!” you shove a throw pillow on his pretty face. “that is so cringe, i would never say that.”
“you are cringe. you would a hundred percent say that. hell, you’ll say something even more cringe than that.”
“you’re the cringe one. running to the stands and kissing me in front of everybody right after a game that you lost!”
“hey! i’m sensitive about that.” of course, he pouts at you. a frown on his pretty face resembling a kicked puppy.
“you insulted my vows.”
“i did not insult your vows. i was just.. recalling and rephrasing them.”
“that wasn’t anything near my vows. how dare you. i didn’t sleep for three nights writing those.” suna attacks your face again. littering kisses all over your pretty face.
“rin, stop it— your fucking saliva—”
“i love you, too.” he murmurs, plopping a kiss tied with passion and adoration on your lips.
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likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist
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rinablet · 4 months
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one day, daichi’s favorite ramen place suddenly closed down
——
a belated birthday gift for the best haikyuu captain!
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uravitypng · 1 year
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oikawa manhandling you because he can't believe how soft you are. he can't help it, he sees you and it's all he can think about. oikawa's bigger than you, taller than you, stronger than you, it was rather shocking the first time he moved your body in any position he wanted. he didn't think anyone could be this soft. your body bounces as he grabs onto whatever flesh he can. he marvels at how pretty you are, as you try to playfully wriggle from his grasp, making him lightly spank you, so he can see your body jiggle. he loves the little noises you make, the gasps when he touches you just right. you're his soft, round, squidgy girlfriend, you're all his, and he adores you.
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heich0e · 6 months
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“Miya-san!”
Osamu’s head swivels towards the sound, and he spots you right away even though you weren't the one who called for him.
You’re a few metres down the road, sitting on a bench in front of a bustling restaurant, slumped over onto the shoulder of your junior who seems to be doing everything he can to keep your head tipped up against his arm. Kimura, the name Osamu had once been introduced to him as at one of the events your company held, has blushy cheeks when the older man approaches—he seems flushed due both to being flustered and a little tipsy, and the knot of his tie is loosened at the base of his throat.
“Kimura-kun,” Osamu greets him with a dip of his head as he approaches, his eyes scanning your seemingly sleeping face. “She asleep?”
“No,” you slur in reply, but your eyes stay closed. Osamu’s not certain it’s the truth, and even less certain you realize he’s the one who said it.
“I-it’s all my fault,” Kimura squeaks, looking increasingly like he might burst into tears. “They were trying to make me drink more, but Senpai kept switching out our glasses when the other section leads weren’t looking.”
“Yeah, that sounds like somethin’ she’d do,” Osamu replies with a fond but exasperated sigh.
“I’m sorry for contacting you so late,” Kimura says, flinching as you slump away from him unexpectedly in your drunken stupor. Osamu is quicker to react than the younger man, stepping in and catching you in the crook of his elbow before you can go toppling off the bench onto the sidewalk. He keeps you steady.
“Don’t apologize, I appreciate ya callin’ me to come get her—and thanks fer lookin’ after her,” he says down to the younger man, who seems relieved now not to be responsible for keeping you upright. “Tell her to bring ya by the shop for a meal sometime as payback. She owes ya one.”
Kimura’s eyes widen and he shakes his head like he couldn’t possibly accept, but before he can decline the offer Osamu turns his attention back to you. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he gently pries you from your seat.
“Up ya go,” he mutters encouragingly as he eases you onto your feet.
Your eyes flutter slowly open, looking around blearily for a moment as you take in your surroundings.
“Samu?” you ask, his name slurred on your alcohol loosened tongue. You perk up noticeably in his arms once you realize just who’s holding you. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to take ya home, Cinderella,” he says with a light laugh as your fingers twist into the material of his sweatshirt against his chest. He looks to Kimura again, who’s also risen to his feet now. “We’ll be off, then.”
“Thank you, Miya-san!” Kimura bows deeply forward, a nearly perfect 45 degree angle at his waist.
He’s a sweet kid, Osamu can’t help but think, even if does follow you around like a puppy.
Osamu helps you down the sidewalk towards his waiting truck, then up into your seat on the passenger’s side. He makes quick work of buckling you into your seatbelt even as you squirm counterproductively, then he jogs swiftly around to his own side of the truck and climbs in behind the wheel.
Kimura waves from outside the restaurant as the truck pulls away.
“Seems like ya had fun tonight,” Osamu remarks as he drives in the direction of your home. You hadn't even wanted to attend this work gathering, but had been forced to by your director. Now look where it had gotten you.
You’re fiddling with the controls of the radio, stations crackling in and out as you switch rapidly through the channels. 
“Drank too much,” you complain, settling on a talk radio station (of all things) that seems to be midway through discussing prefectural bylaws.
“Don’t I know it,” Osamu quips in reply and you swat at him harmlessly over the centre console with a laugh.
You’re turned in your seat, your body facing in his direction, watching him as he keeps his eyes on the road. He can feel your gaze tracing over him, but doesn’t glance back.
“Hey,” you whisper, something conspiratorial in your tone. “Wanna know a secret?”
“Sure thing,” he plays along with your antics, fighting back a grin.
It’s silent for a moment—only the voices on the radio discussing trash collection to be heard. Osamu pulls up to a red light, and finally looks over to meet your gaze.
Your eyes are glassy and a bit unfocused, but they’re bright with affection.
“I have a crush on you,” you tell him with a giggle.
Osamu’s chest pangs.
The light turns green.
“Well,” he remarks, returning his gaze to the road ahead and proceeding through the intersection. “That’s good.”
From the corner of his eye, he sees your shoulders slump dejectedly. 
“I’m being rejected,” your next words are positively morose. You turn away from him and lean your body over to the side. He hears a loud thump as your forehead head hits window on your right.
“Hey!” Osamu chides you in concern, reaching out and grabbing the collar of your blouse to tug you up a little straighter. It’s not the most elegant motion by any means, but he’s fairly limited with his other hand on the wheel and his eyes still on the road.
“Owww,” you complain, rubbing your forehead weakly. You bat the hand he has clutching the collar of your shirt away. “You’re so mean.”
“How’m I mean?” Osamu guffaws beside you.
“I just confessed my love for you, and all you had to say is ‘that’s good’!” You turn your body in your seat to waggle an unsteady but judgemental finger at him. “A woman’s heart is a precious, fragile thing, y’know!”
“There’s nothin’ fragile about ya,” Osamu mutters under his breath, thinking about how much you had to drink that night as a prime example of this fact. “Yer tough as a brick wall.”
“Mean!” you jeer at him again, your mouth agape in the wake of his words.
Osamu flicks his turn indicator on before he pulls his truck over to the curb, putting it into park. You’ve stopped outside a convenience store, and when he turns to look at you, the fluorescents from inside the shop bathe you in a backlit halo where you sit in the passenger seat.
He grabs your hand. The one you still have lifted to point at him.
“D’ya see this?” he asks, holding your hand up in front of your face. The ring on your fourth finger catches in the glow of the convenience store lights.
Your eyes widen.
Osamu holds up his left hand where there’s a ring that matches your own.
“I said it’s good y’got a crush on me ‘cause we’re married, dummy.”
Your lips form a surprised little ‘o’ as your eyes flicker rapidly from the band on your finger to his own and back again. 
After a moment you grin, your eyes squeezing shut with how high your cheeks lift. “What a relief!”
Osamu is quick inside the store, just popping in to buy a vitamin drink for you and a pack of cigarettes for himself. He doesn’t smoke as much these days—you’d nag him incessantly if he did—but every so often he gets a craving, and tonight is one of those instances. 
The two of you sit side by side on the curb in front of the shop, the truck parked a little ways down the road. 
Osamu takes a drag of his cigarette, sighing in contentment with wispy plumes of smoke slipping from his lips. He peeks over at you from the corner of his eye. 
“Ya feelin’ better?” he asks.
You’ve got the little bottle of vitamin drink cradled in your hands, working your way through it slowly. You hate the taste of them, he knows that, but you’d regret it more tomorrow morning if you didn’t force it down tonight. You nod a bit, and seem to have sobered up in the time since Osamu arrived to take you home.
“This reminds me of when we first started datin’” Osamu laughs to himself. And he means it. Everything about it. Being out so late. The taste of the tobacco on his tongue. The way you keep creeping a little bit closer to him unconsciously, as though his space isn’t already yours to freely take. “I can’t believe ya forgot we’re married.”
You groan in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”
He bites back a grin, trying not to revel too much in your misery.
“And I’m sorry I made you come pick me up,” you mumble after a moment, taking another sip from the little bottle in your hand and wincing against the bitterness. “I planned to just take a cab.”
“It was that little junior of yours who contacted me,” Osamu laughs, lifting the cigarette to his lips and holding it there while he rifles in his pocket for his phone. He holds the device out so you can see the conversation where your subordinate had commandeered your phone, remorsefully messaging Osamu asking him to come and collect you from the bar. He’d even used a funny little sticker of a bunny with tears in his eyes bowing apologetically—it bears a striking resemblance to Kimura himself. 
“That kid,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly as you rub your temple. Your eyes suddenly widen and your face snaps towards your husband. “Wh—“
“Tsumu’s there watchin’ ‘em,” Osamu laughs, reaching up and plopping a hand down atop your head. “Not that there’s much to watch since they’re in bed. He was still at the house when Kimura-kun messaged me.”
You lean into Osamu's touch as you think of your twins at home, tucked up in the little bed they share, and it makes your heart ache a little bit. You wonder if you’ll be able to creep in and give them a kiss goodnight when you get home without waking them. 
You go terribly quiet for a moment, and Osamu finishes his cigarette. He stamps it out on the curb beside him and then slips the extinguished stub back into the pack to throw into an ashtray later.
“Samu?” you call to him, your voice quiet.
He glances over at you, and sees the way you’ve wrapped your arms around your knees. The anxious posture worries him.
“I didn’t forget you, I promise,” you whisper. “It’s just… sometimes I think this is all too good to be true.”
Your husband watches as you admire the ring on your finger that reflects the streetlight overhead.
Osamu smiles to himself, scooting closer to you on the curb.
“I know,” he reassures you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. Your head naturally falls to his shoulder. Familiar and instinctive. “I was just teasin’ ya.”
You smell like alcohol. He’s sure he smells like cigarettes. You're in rumpled business casual, and he's dressed in the sweats he planned to wear to sleep. He reaches over and takes your left hand in his own—your wedding rings overlapping. And for a moment, in spite of all the ways the two of you have changed over the years and all the ways that life is different now, everything is exactly how it’s always been.
He tilts his face and presses a lingering kiss to your temple.
‘I’ve got a crush on ya too, by the way.”
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ktsumu · 16 days
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18+ NSFT MDNI. SHOWER ACTION.
You already know that Atsumu's in the shower before you hear him in it, nudging the front door shut behind you, heels falling off of your groaning feet. The first matchup of the pre-season has ensured that.
Muscle memory makes you step over the routine dufflebag he drops in the very middle of the entryway, shaking the strap off of your ankle when it catches. His sweater's on the back of the couch.
You'd take it down the hallway with you, but you follow the clothes like a roadmap instead. Toeing along, kicking his track pants out of the way with a scoff, rolling your eyes and wondering how he completely missed the hamper.
An athlete, he calls himself.
The shower turns your bedroom hot, steaming up the windows from the open ensuite door, the mirror dripping with water. You can feel the humidity ruining the hair you worked so hard to keep tidy this morning.
"Atsumu?" You sigh, tugging it loose and glancing at him through the mirror.
It's more so what you can see of him— the frosted glass of the shower punishes you mostly, keeps you to watching his blurry body turn, his head twist to your voice. You can see him turn to face the water again.
"Hey baby. How's work?"
"I'm gonna guess better than the game today?" You pick up his sweaty jersey with your foot, taking in the distinct yet familiar smell of sharp pines and locker room. "Judging by the state of our home."
Atsumu breathes out sheepishly, but it sounds like a grin. "I'll clean it all up, don't worry."
"I know you will."
"Yeah, for sure." He hesitates, humming when he rubs at the crook of his neck. "Maybe tomorrow morning? Swear."
You don't care when he cleans it up, really. Your eyes haven't left the shower.
Quietly, you start to undo your blouse, shrugging it off of your shoulders and peeling it off of your sticky skin. You toss it near Atsumu's abandoned shorts.
"Been in there a while?" you huff, blindly turning on the fan. "Hot as hell in here."
"Everything hurts," he groans. "Fuckin' hate coming off the off-season— not used to it."
You purse your lips. "Gonna stay in for a little while longer?"
It's quiet, aside from the shower running. His shadow moves, leans closer to the glass before standing upright again. His hands tease you over the top, combing through his hair.
"If someone wants to keep me company, can't really say no."
(He must sense your eyes rolling, because he chuckles and slips the door open a crack.)
You shimmy your tight skirt down your legs, stepping out of everything embarrassingly fast. Your cami ends up hanging off the sink and your pantyhose are in a ball, but Atsumu's waiting hand has you getting inside the shower as fast as you can manage.
Where he isn't drenched in water, he's painted by a thin sheen of heat, the steam of the shower dripping down his temple. His hand welcomes you first, guiding you closer so his lips can greet you next.
Atsumu rests a hand on the side of your face, droplets of water swarming down your chest like snakes. He kisses you sloppily, tongue trying at yours the second you let him, teeth grazing your lip when you pull away like he's begging you to stay.
"Sore, huh?"
His eyes travel down— over your chest, sternum, hips. His hands follow in the same order like a drill— tits, chest, beautiful, beautiful hips. "Forget I said anything 'bout that,"
"You should rest, really,"
"Stop teasin' me, it's just cruel," he frowns, "need you to give me a cure tonight,"
"Yeah? It's called eight hours of sleep and Voltaren."
He rolls his eyes, lidded with said sleep— the hand holding yours that pulls you closer and his half-hard cock between you say something entirely different.
Atsumu's hand gropes your ass, fingertips dinging into fat until you get impossibly closer, until he's basically against your stomach and you're basically just looking at his lips.
"You should—"
"Should," he emphasizes, murmured against your mouth as he kisses you again, chaste but lingering, "but this is what I'm actually gonna do."
"What?"
"You," he hums, tucking a strand of your half-wet hair behind your ear, blocking the water and hoarding you to himself. "Gonna be my cleanse."
You snort, fingers smoothing over his abs and down to the base of his cock, nails gently running over the dark trail of hair. "That right?"
"Mmmyeah," he says through a groan, yawning before he slots a hand in between your legs, trailing it up your inner thigh as you finally get him in your hand. It's the only place he's wanted to be all night, besides your bed. "Feel so fuckin' good, fuck,"
You sigh against his chest, tilting your head up to taste him again. Like spearmint, like the gum he must've chewed on the drive home just knowing you'd end up here.
"Shit, alright," he sighs, hips lazily rolling into your palm as you look up at him with eyes that make him wanna pass out.
"Gotta choose now— you wanna be on your knees first or do ya want 'em over my shoulders?"
You breathe out a laugh, sliding your hands over his slippery arms, over every muscled ridge as you lower yourself to the tile floor, kissing his hip when you get there. "Romantic, really."
Atsumu's body tilts your way, chasing your lips down, leaning into your touch as he brushes a thumb over your cheek. The kiss you place on his flushed tip is greatly appreciated— he lets you know it.
"Yeah, honey, I try," he breathes. He smiles so warmly down at you that it's almost like you're not about to suck him off. "Just wait until I get you to bed, yeah?"
"We both know you're falling asleep."
"Well, after we get outta here you will be, too."
"Mm, we'll see."
Atsumu barks a laugh, delicately running his hand up your nape before taking a stronger hold on the base of your hair.
"Oh, you're so on."
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