content warnings: p in v sex, reader referred to as "girl" as in "pretty girl", caregiver kink, breeding kink, creampie, thigh riding, virginity kink, corruption kink, praise kink, d/s elements, impact play, titty sucking, guided masturbation
ushijima gets painfully hard taking care of you. he loves how dependent you become for every little thing - how your eyes get so sweet and gentle when you thank him for all he does for you. when he's cooking soup for you, his brain is a million miles away, off fantasizing about you fluttering around his fingers, your voice a hoarse whimper against the thick column of his neck. he doesn't care if you can feed yourself - he wants to see you willingly open your mouth when he tells you to, wants to make sure you have a belly full of nutrients before he parts your legs and noses between your folds. "it's good to have an orgasm when you're not feeling well. everyone knows that, my love."
sakusa has a breeding kink because of the ownership, the mess, the sheer fucking risk. you had a pregnancy scare once and it bricked him up instantly. now every time he's fucking you, he's promising to knock you up, smiling to himself when you clench and groan around him. he stuffs you full of cum and then fingers it back into you, fingertips expertly rubbing along the walls he's just coated white with his seed. you're a mess of his making, painted in his cum and soon to be swollen with his child.
daichi isn't stupid—he sees the way you look at him, virgin eyes all sweet and trusting when you tell him that you want him to be your first, that you trust him. he wishes he could ignore the possessive desire to take your virginity, to corrupt you so completely that no other man can ever lay claim to you in the way that he has. but he can't, not when you're whimpering in his lap, legs draped on other side of his thigh, swollen pussy beating in time with his heartbeat as he bounces you up and down. "i know, i know," he soothes. "feels real good, doesn't it, angel?"
oikawa is the sloppiest pussydrunk simp to ever exist. the second he's inside of you, he's moaning and whimpering, barely able to stop himself from praising you. "oh fuck baby -- my pretty baby, you feel so good. you're mine, right honey? all fucking mine?" he can barely control himself; the velvety suck of your walls along his cock feels unreal. "wish you knew how good you feel -- it's impossible not to fuck you full, sweet girl." he buries his face in your neck, hips erratic in rhythm, thighs flexing with every thrust. "please let me cum inside you, baby, please." his fingers dig into your skin when he feels you tighten around him. "oh fuck, right there? is that where you need me?"
kageyama lets you use him like a dildo - legs tied apart and your panties stuffed in his mouth. he's uncharacteristically noisy in his pleasure, grunting and groaning every time you shift your hips. "you like being used like this, don't you?" you smirk down at him. "mr. big strong volleyball player just wants his pretty dick wet." but all he's thinking about is the sheer athleticism of your thighs, how beautiful you look with sweat dripping down your face and in between your tits, and how desperately, violently, he needs you to let him cum.
tsukishima loves to fight and fuck. nothing gets this man harder than someone who goes toe to toe with him. what he didn't expect was how much he wants you to smack him across the mouth when he finally slides inside of you, how much he wants you to tell him he's not fucking you well enough. "slap me," he says. you flash the nastiest smirk before your palm rings across the side of his face. his cock twitches. "yeah. do that shit again, baby."
kuroo loves how smart you are; one of his favorite things to do is lay between your thighs and listen to you read to him, his face squished into your tummy and his arms wrapped around your hips. he loves it so much that your reading sessions often turn into him lazily licking between your folds for hours. a command for you to keep reading rumbles from his throat whenever your focus wavers, when the swirl of his tongue through your wet heat bucks your hips off the bed. "who said you could stop?" he pulls away from your clit. "i'm really interested in learning more about mycology, baby."
best friend!suna takes your "getting your tits sucked on can't feel that good" personally. he tells you it's a shame that no one's ever made you feel good like that, that you should make sure you don't like it before you entirely discard the practice. "plenty of people have sucked on my tits," you tell him. "none of them were me," he replies, all serious calm mixed with arrogant intent. you know you're fucked when he squeezes the heft of a breast in his palm, teeth scraping over your nipple. you arch into his touch. "see? the little princess just needed special treatment."
kenma is amazing at guided masturbation. he doesn't have the best game in person, but behind a keyboard, he's a master. his instructions for you are always slow and methodical, a careful exploration of the erogenous zones he knows drive you wild. you're so obedient, too, sending him voice clips when he tells you to, your pretty voice on display as you finger yourself slowly. his final message reads: please show me how pretty you look rn, along with a picture of his flushed face, leaking cock in his hand.
ʚ♡ɞฺ main m.list ྀིᨯ — cw. fluff, established relationship, post timeskip duh kids ages range in 1-6 at max, characters included: iwaizumi, oikawa, kuroo, atsumu, osamu, sakusa, kageyama, hinata, ushijima, bokuto
iwaizumi subconsciously rubs his thumb on your son's back when he taps his chest, asking for his lion plushie that your husband had forgotten, stuck in the bag you had brought whenever it was a day you'd go out with your son.
"and i would like to thank my-" - "papa!" the smaller version of himself basically pulling at his tie while he tries to answer properly. he'd stay perfectly in control though, just to set the scene.
he just tickles the little guy until he stops fussing, at least until he finishes the question. "god, the little man is incredibly eager today, aren't you?" the athlete walks over to your on the sides, escorted by a few bodyguards as you take the hazelnut-headed baby from his arms.
oikawa happily introduces both him and his little girl before answering a few questions. whether those questions are about his gameplay or hi personal life, he answers whatever he can. what people find most adorable is how identical the grin on his daughter face was to his own.
"ah, my spouse? they're actually sitting over there- no i'm not going to point so no one crowds them." the same enthusiasm you fell in love with made you sigh while a few of his teammates stand nearby to bodyguard you in a way.
"dada! wanna say hi to mama/papa!" - "go wave, sweetie, they're right there!"
kuroo has his carbon copy sat on his lap, the little boy having hidden his face for a while in his father's vest, you questioned if it was really a good time to show the world he had a child- well, that's before you knew that crow jr. was just fast asleep.
"ah you know kids, they sleep easy, a luxury i wish i could still have." - "da... i wan' mama/papa..." tugging at the hem of his clothes, you could feel your heart warm when the microphone picked up your son's words.
"we can go to 'em later, okay?" - "huuungry..."
atsumu was getting interviewed right after a game, getting caught offguard, he didn't have time to put his girls down. the older girl being two years more than the smaller girl, one stood and one sat respectively. at least that's the stance he took after tossing them both into the air at least thrice.
"ha? oh! ohohohoh- yeah, these are my kids! just the prettiest in the whole world, aren't they?" placing a kiss on both of their heads, "clearly they take after their mother/father, yeah?"
you could only feel your face heat up hours later when you're rewatching the interview for yourself. "what're ya blushin' 'bout?? was tellin' them the truth!"
osamu gladly introduced the twins you had blessed him with, the two boys that were finally revealed at onigiri miya; helping their father out with work and serving customers with the smile osamu only offered to the love of his life, you.
"mmhhmm, yeah, my boys are amazin' at everythin', aren't they? learned from the best, and look like the best. me and their mother/father respectively."
"'samu, you were so sweet up there but you know damn well they learned how to help you because i pushed them to?" - "yeah yeah. don't take all the credit, beautiful."
sakusa keeps his distance by himself, and it only worsens when his little girl is in the vicinity of cameras, and lights when he finally gets out the locker room post-game. despite the eyerolls and such, he really isn't gonna be a man above flexing about how pretty his little girl is.
"of course she is my daughter, beautiful and much more bearable than you all." is all he really gets out before leaving the limelight to go back to where the two of you were.
"wow, really wouldn't give them a chance?" you smoothly slid a smoothie into his freehand for him and the young lady to share; said little lady already reaching out for the shaved flavored ice. "god, you really want people to know about our life or what?" - "was just joking, 'omi!"
kageyama is... well both him and his barely one year old toddler didn't like the amount of questions being asked, and yearned only for one thing left; to go back to the arms of mama/papa...
"i- yes, she is my daught- no she hasn't been enrol... i..." the little girl looks up at him and blinks anticipatedly, as if telepathically communicatin with her father, she starts to fake a loud cry that successfully gets him out of the spotlight.
"aw is my baby- oh, she's already okay? i thought she was crying?" - "oh you know things babe, i'm just a great dad." he places a kiss onto the little girl's head that makes her babble happily.
hinata, one moment was tossing her up into the air, next thing five journalists and three cameramen are already in his face, asking whose child is it... well, they had the same orange hair... who else's kid would this be?
"uh, yeah, she's my kid. she, and my beautiful partner are my inspiration during matches yes." - "dada! i want hooome!!"
he reluctantly answered only the questions that concerned the games for the next five minutes before coming back to you. "jeez, so many interviewers, huh?" - "okay, mr. popular, our daughter seems hungry."
ushijima is on stage, mic and everything as per usual, but this time the cameras weren't really focused too much on him, rather on the little girl that grasped his jacket's collar with amazement. whispering little words that the mic would pick up, people couldn't help but 'aww' at her!
"yes, the match was very beneficial for the growth of our team." - "ba... pa... papa..." would echo silently right behind the athelete's firm words, he probably couldn't see it, but you could easily spot how easily the crowd faltered at the hands of your daughter.
holding your son's hand, you walk over to your husband as he comes back, "seems like someone's talkative tonight." - "i believe so, our daughter likes the press."
bokuto was pulled onto a stage to talk about his most recent match and how his fake spike came up as an option in his mind. be surprised but i believe he'd be the kind to answer while catering to his daughter. sitting on his lap while he had a large hand around her small body.
"yes! that spike- god it just, you should know... sweetheart, don't eat that; the adrenaline an athlete experiences during a match makes your brain work overtime! and- baby, you know your mother/father is gonna kill me for this-"
long story short he's kinda got it under his control until he realizes 'yooo im a good dad while answering questions professionally'.
You were chilling in the living room when an idea crossed your mind. You grin, already holding back a laugh as you hear your fiancé walking down the stairs.
“Babe, can you grab me a drink?” You ask not looking up from your phone.
“I shall cherish my wife” He grins to himself. (what a dork)
“Fiancé,” You correct him, giving him a ‘haha, I know that makes you mad’ look. He catches your gaze before turning around to open the fridge.
“Whatever makes my wife happy” You can see his hand and forearm muscles clenching from the grip on the fridge handle.
He walks up to you, handing you the drink you asked for.
“Good boy,” You say, biting back a laugh the moment you see his face.
He looks at you then quickly around the room for any camera or someone who could possibly see what he is about to do-
He giggles, GIGGLES. Before he quickly masks it with a forced cough. He clears his throat twice and fixes his hair.
“Mind saying that again?” Your jaw hits the floor.
“Excuse you?”
“I didn't quite.. hear you” he repeats, fixing his collar and standing up straighter. You try.. Really try not to laugh… or cry. Because this man looks adorable. He has a cheeky smile, his dimples showing up.. his hands in front of him. You can almost see him rocking on his feet from excitement.
“Ah.. wait, if I get you another thing, you will repeat it?” he doesn't wait for your response; he's already moving. He walks in and out of the kitchen, a snack his hand. He gently, like it's a secret, places it beside you.
Your fiancé takes a step back, admiring his “work”. He raises his eyebrows, smiling and waiting for you to say it.
You look at the snack.. back at him. This man.. You think to yourself. He's so stupid..
He clears his throat, gesturing with his hand to continue, still smiling.
“Oh right, forgive me. Thank you” He quickly shakes his head.
“The other thing” You squint your eyes at him.
“Thank you, my beloved husband..?” He shakes his head again.
“Not that.. I mean, I like it, but the other thing you said earlier.” You sigh in defeat, opening the bag of chips.
“You're serious? You want me to really, really call you that? Isn't it embarrassing?” He groans before walking towards you on the couch and sits down in front of you. His chin on top of your knee, arms wrapped around your legs.
“Please?” He pouts. POUTS. THIS GROWN ASS MAN-
“Ugh.. fine.” You reach your hand and pet his hair gently. “Good boy” You cringe but laugh shortly after when he licks your knee.
“EW! STOP!” The sound of your laughter and squirming away from him fills the room.
“Say it again” He laughs too, crawling on top and pushing you down on the couch, trappong you under his body weight.
“No” You try to sound serious, but fail miserably. “DON'T!” You squirm again, as he starts tickling you.
“PLEASEEE, SAY IT AGAIN” he laughs, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, hiding his OBVIOUS blush on his face.
“Maybe on our wedding night”
a/n: He couldn't wait till then.. sorry not sorry.
Sakusa Kiyoomi who’s not so subtly obsessed with his girlfriend.
It all started lowkey, back when he just went pro and questions about the life of a promising player piled on to him, the clip of one of his first ever interview that happened off-court, and not in a conference room when they were all still covered in sweat and trying to breathe evenly, is still circling social media, the interviewer went with the anticipated question, “fans wish to know if there’s someone special outside the gyms, perhaps a partner?” to which Kiyoomi only nodded with the same level of sternness he carried during a match point.
Overtime it seemed to become much easier to let others in, he still appreciated privacy, but to know that people loved seeing him break out a grin whenever mentioning you after a good game was priceless. It was one time after an away game in Malaysia that they’d won in just two sets, he was approached by local reporters, swarming him with questions but one in particular stood out for him. So when he was asked “what do you miss about Japan?” he didn’t hold back the smile, instead leaning closer to the microphone and bluntly saying “my partner”.
Kiyoomi had already prepared for the worst when faced with the fame that’d come alongside success, he’d seen it happen before, the gossip and tabloids, people breaking up or even getting a divorce over others’ opinion, but seeing the feedback from his supporters each time a new photo of both of you walking around Osaka or visiting his family in Tokyo popped out only encouraged him to share you with the world further.
Eventually he had a whole highlight dedicated to photos of you in his instagram profile, stories piled up each year, sometimes domestic, candid ones where you’d be making cocoa or simply rearranging and cleaning his memorabilia that Sakusa had earned throughout his career, or less private moments of you walking around the streets of Rome when he took you with him to the training camp, moments from all across the world with you beside him.
It’s all gotten to the point where people recognise you in the stands when the Black Jackals are playing, some of Kiyoomi’s fans had even asked for a photo whenever you were wearing the jersey or jacket with his number.
One time on Valentine’s Day Kiyoomi had posted a photo of you sprawled out on your shared bed, hand on your heart and phone almost up your nose with a caption saying “sleeping through the special day”. He deleted it not even ten minutes later, but of course people had already screenshot it plenty of times, to this day remembering the random exposure that was gone in record time.
Safe to say one thing Sakusa was always good at was hard launching, brand deals, important events, friendships with players people wouldn’t even expect him to know, but one particular time outshined the rest of his shenanigans. It was nearing evening after a tough home game where they walked out with another win that Kiyoomi was stopped by a fan with camera angled at him, filming a video when they suddenly asked “what are you looking forward to after today?” when he simply lifted his hand, showing off the golden band on his finger, “seeing my wife”.
18+ sakusa gives the meanest back shots when he’s jealous . . . ❤︎ ⋮ requested.
you weren’t aware that sakusa kiyoomi had this side to him until tonight. it was as if all the walls he built came crashing down completely, always losing his cool when it comes to you. he didn’t quite understand it either—how you got him so worked up every single time without fail. and this time wasn’t any different.
well, except for the fact that you finally noticed.
all it took was one of his teammates fawning over you before his body moved without thinking, walking over to the stands and pulling you into a passionate kiss right after his team won the game. it didn’t end at the sudden relationship reveal, only beginning at the hotel room after.
you didn’t quite get it at first—why his kisses felt needier or why the room was boiling with fury and tension. but as his hand ran up and down your sides possessively, his fingertips leaving trails of goosebumps behind, you started to understand the gist of the situation.
every shove of his cock had you lurching forward from the force, sakusa pulling you back by your hips to keep you pressed against his pelvis. “trying to run?” he asked, cockiness dripping from his tone, hands gripping tightly on your skin. “i’m not done yet. you can handle it, yeah?” you felt fingers tightening in your hair, tugging hard enough to tilt your head for him to watch your expression contort in pleasure.
“omi—haah—can’t take it anymore! oh fuck—too much—!” you clawed the sheets, desperately clinging onto your senses that he was trying to fuck out of you. his pace was brutal, hard to keep up with when every single thrust knocked the air out of you. static clouded your vision, tears streamed down your cheeks. bruises and bites painted the your neck and shoulders, your back arching with every smack of his pelvis against your ass.
“look at you, so perfect like this.. all ruined by who?” he asked, slowing down just so you could respond—only to plunge in deeper when you couldn’t choke an answer out in time. he only leaned in closer when you whined, muttering filth beside your ear. “don’t wanna answer? that’s fine. we’ll just have to make sure they can hear you then.”
the headboard rattled against the wall, bed frame creaking under both of your weights just as loud. the obscene noises of sex filled the room—squelching, skin slapping, moans bouncing off the bedroom walls—sakusa kiyoomi didn’t really need your answer. he just needed to make one thing unmistakably clear to his teammate next door, and he trusted that the walls were thin enough to carry the message.
if only you could see the smirk plastered on his face with how loud he was making you cry out his name. he hoped that the whole world would take this as a sign that you were his, and his only.
when a gossipy tabloid called you a princess in a very condescending way, SAKUSA KIYOOMI, your devoted boyfriend was pissed to say the least.
you find him scowling and scoffing at his phone. you get naturally curious and sit next to him on the couch, immediately snuggling in his side and peeking at his phone. then you see it.
Volleyball star, Sakusa Kiyoomi, was caught out on a casual coffee date with his longtime girlfriend. However insiders say the lovey-dovey atmosphere shifted entirely the moment her drink hit the table. After a single sip, the so-called “low-maintenance” girlfriend reportedly pulled one grimace, sparking whispers of yet another princess moment.
According to those nearby, our poor Sakusa appeared visibly tensed while she gestured toward the cup. As if expecting something to be fixed. Her classic princess behavior, some say.
“so what? you can’t have fucking preferences now!? that milk they used literally gives you a stomachache” you frown too, ignoring the weird feeling growing in your chest and keep reading.
“He looked exhausted,” another source claimed. “Like this wasn’t the first time.” Is Sakusa Kiyoomi still enchanted? Or is our prince finally growing tired of his princess?
your boyfriend let’s out a sharp bitter laugh and locks his phone, tossing it aside. “omi, don’t… give that much importance” you say, trying to convince him as much as yourself “it’s nonsense”
“it’s bullshit” he adds, running a hand through his face, clearly done. after that, you try to be more careful about your reactions to any particularities you had about anything at all. not because you cared so much what they said about you. but mostly, to give kiyoomi a peace of mind, since you know he doesn’t particularly like attention.
the wince made when the msby arena was too loud? shut down. your coffee was too bitter? you barely react. you felt like freezing? nonchalance was the answer so sakusa wouldn’t give you his coat. and you were mostly getting the hold of it. but the last straw came when the restaurant added scallions to your rice.
you despise scallions.
your eye twitches before you take a deep breath, and brace yourself to start eating your food. but when your chopsticks grab the first bunch of food, sakusa literally stops you. you try to hide the slight panic in your eyes, as if saying 'we really don't need another tabloid now' to him.
but kiyoomi? unbothered. he doesn't call the waiter, he doesn't even suggest you simply switch plates at all.
he simply picks up his own chopsticks and begins removing each piece of scallion from your rice.
one by one.
a look of pure shock schools your features, frantically looking around the restaurant to see a couple of eyes already staring at your boyfriend.
"let them" he simply says, not stopping his task "maybe this time they'll now i’m your royal subject by choice"
you swear you see a tiny smirk forming on his face, and amusement is now all over your face. and of course, the next morning the moment hits the internet. and your social media floods with comments about how kiyoomi chose a princess, someone who doesn't even have to say a word to make him make things happen. the way you want them, whenever you want them.
it's safe to say, maybe you were a spoiled princess after all.
⤷summary: totally innocent things you do that makes them lose their minds a little
⤷content: fluff, light crack, suggestive undertones??, established relationship
⤷characters: miya osamu, sakusa kiyoomi, ushijima wakatoshi, miya atsumu, kita shinsuke, and tsukishima kei
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ OSAMU MIYA
it’s the sauce again.
you’re perched on the counter in one of his shirts, eating fried chicken with your fingers, and you don’t even notice him watching.
“you’re starin’,” you say, voice muffled with food.
“am not.” he’s absolutely lying.
he’s supposed to be mixing batter, but instead he’s thinking about the way you just licked your thumb clean—slow, absentminded. he grips the whisk tighter.
you tilt your head at him, all innocent eyes and a sauce-stained cheek. “you okay there, chef?”
osamu blinks, turns around, mutters something like “yeah, fine” while trying to look anywhere but you.
he’s not fine. not even close.
you swing your legs and hum as if you haven’t just ruined his entire morning. he swears the next time you sit on his counter like that, he’s confiscating all sauces within a ten-meter radius.
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ SAKUSA KIYOOMI
he’s folding laundry when you come in, hair down and messy from sleep.
then you grab a scrunchie, push your hair back, and tie it up.
he swears time slows down. the wrist twist. the tug. the reveal of your neck. he blinks once, twice, and looks away like he just saw something illegal.
“what?” you ask, oblivious.
“nothing.” he’s staring at the wall now. very intently.
you shrug, go back to scrolling your phone, and he’s left pretending that he isn’t imagining pressing his lips right where your pulse beats.
later, you catch him watching you again in the mirror. “you sure it’s nothing?”
he exhales sharply. “you should... wear your hair down less.”
you laugh, because you know exactly what he means.
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI
you stretch beside him, arms raised above your head, shirt lifting just enough to show the soft curve of your stomach.
he’s reading, or at least he was. now his book is halfway forgotten.
“tired?” he asks, voice steady, but his eyes have gone a little unfocused.
“just stiff.”
he hums like he didn’t just witness a divine act. you drop your arms, sigh contentedly, and he swallows. he has a thought—something about how delicate you look and how badly he wants to trace the shape of you—but he keeps it to himself.
later, when you fall asleep next to him, curled and warm, he closes the book, presses a kiss to your forehead, and whispers something you don’t quite catch.
it sounds like mine.
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ ATSUMU MIYA
you sass him again—hands on hips, that tiny pout, that look.
“i told you it’s your turn to do the dishes,” you say.
“i’m the breadwinner ‘round here,” he argues dramatically, “shouldn’t have to wash dishes when i’m providin’ for us.”
you stare him down. he cracks first. he always cracks first.
five minutes later, he’s elbow-deep in soap suds, muttering under his breath. you lean against the counter, smug.
“what was that?” you ask sweetly.
“nothin’, sweetheart.”
you hum, start humming a tune as you dry the plates.
he glances up. there it is again—that stupid warmth in his chest that feels like home. he grins, shakes his head.
“ya drive me crazy, ya know that?”
you smirk. “that’s the point.”
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ KITA SHINSUKE
you’re curled up on the couch, oversized sweater sleeves covering your hands, a steaming cup of tea resting in your lap.
he stops in the doorway for a good ten seconds before he moves again.
“you okay?” you ask, smiling softly.
he nods. “you just look… peaceful.”
it’s a small thing, but it hits him every time—the way you exist so gently. the way you make his quiet evenings feel warmer.
he sits beside you, careful, and you shift enough to lean your cheek on his shoulder. he freezes for a moment, then exhales.
“that’s nice,” you mumble, eyes half-closed.
he hums. “yeah. it is.”
he’ll never admit it out loud, but he thinks you might be the most dangerous thing to ever happen to his heart.
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ TSUKISHIMA KEI
you’re talking—about something random, probably a meme or a classmate—and your hands are moving all over the place. waving, gesturing, tapping your knuckles on the table when you pause to think.
he’s not listening. not really.
“are you even paying attention?” you ask.
“no,” he says truthfully.
you roll your eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but you’re smiling.
he watches you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and it’s unfair, honestly, how you can make him feel this unsteady without trying.
when you reach out to poke his cheek, he catches your wrist—not hard, just enough to make you blink up at him.
“you talk too much,” he says, but his voice is softer than usual.
you grin. “and yet, you never tell me to stop.”
he doesn’t reply. just lets go of your hand and goes back to his phone—even though he’s not reading a single word on the screen.
