#instant ovulation

“Almost done, baby, and then I’m all yours,” he whispers, turning to you without taking his eyes off the paper. He kisses the corner of your mouth clumsily, making you grin, but your lips are glued to his toned neck and shoulders until he either gets the point or finds a stopping point. And without fail, he’ll whisper those lyrics, inspired by you, in your ear later that night while his hips take you places only he can help you reach.

❥ Keiji Akaashi- when he asks you for help

You will never admit it, but when Akaashi is under a lot of stress, there’s a certain… Allure about him. Maybe it’s because he’s typically a natural at anything he does or tries, so when your ears pick up on his soft sigh, and you see him take off his glasses and set them down before pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, you perk up. 

His long, dexterous fingers tangle in his hair, and he rests the weight of his head in one palm while his free hand twirls a pen absentmindedly. His eyes are glued to a new manga he’s expected to produce, but they are red and a little glazed over from how hard he’s been working on it. 

And his smile-it’s so damn soft and tired when you finally work up the courage to slink up next to him and press into his side, quietly asking if he needs anything. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I’d love some water if you wouldn’t mind.” 

Your thighs press together, but you’re quick to fulfill his request. It isn’t often when Akaashi asks you for something, so maybe that’s why you look forward to moments like these. He does so much for you, and carries your marriage on his back without a single complaint or thread of resentment. So when he needs, you jump to provide. 

You find yourself hovering around him afterwards until he closes his newest project and turns to look at you with that gentle, exhausted smile. 

“Ready for bed, my love?” When you finally get him under you, you relish in the soft gasps and deep moans you pull from his throat while you make sure he knows just how thankful you are to him for the way he supports your family, and grin when your softly spoken, “You’re the best husband, Keiji” is what finally pushes him over the edge, putty in your hands.

❥ Kōtarō Bokuto- when he runs his hands through his wet hair

Bokuto’s hair is naturally chaotic and pointy, much like the man himself. It doesn’t matter if he tries to style it differently, those sharp ends and wild strands always find a way to add a solid four inches to his overall height. 

However, there are times when you catch him just out of the shower. Towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets running down his smooth skin. The sight alone is enough to make any ordinary person drop to their knees and beg, and even though it sends a surge of heat through you, that isn't what makes you chew on your bottom lip until you taste a tinge of blood in the pool of spit you swallow. 

No, that is from the soaked strands of your husband’s soft hair, dark from the water and wavy in texture. They fall haphazardly around his face and nape of his neck after he shakes his head, soaking the walls and floor, but you don’t care. Not when he takes his big, calloused hands and runs them through the tangles, pushing his hair out of his bright eyes and off his forehead. 

It makes your knees weak, and your thighs tremble against the onslaught of visual images that grace your brain. Bokuto’s head thrown back, mouth open in pleasure, damp hair wrapped tightly around your fingers as you tug hard, exposing his throat. 

Or the ghost of cold drops of water, burning your skin as he hovers above you, hair blocking his eyes, but not to the point where you can’t tell his entire focus is on you. 

You have his wrist in an iron grip before you know what you’re doing, and his wide eyes and parted lips give way to his surprise at your sudden entrance. 

“H-hey, baby! What are you doing?” 

“We don’t have long,” you say, dragging your helpless husband behind you to the bed and shoving him down. He lands with a “hmph!” and props himself up on his elbows, staring up at you with wide eyes. Your gaze is hungry, and you lick your lips when a shorter strand of hair falls in front of his face. 

“Until what, baby?” 

“Until it dries.”

❥ Tetsurō Kuroo- when he adjusts his tie

It isn’t often that Kuroo comes home looking as if he hadn’t slept at all the night before, but, like with any job, there are always going to be days that are rougher than others. He’s not one to gossip or dump the heavy burden of his day onto your shoulders, but you can always tell when he needs a little extra attention. 

It’s in the way he first walks through the door. “Hey, I’m home,” he calls out softly, but there’s a thread of tension and exhaustion in his tone that prompts you to peek around the corner, watching him silently. 

He toes his shoes off, then peels his outer layers off and hangs them in the nearby closet. But it’s his shoulders that you watch. The same shoulders that have been responsible for blocking hundreds of spikes, and have carried you and your marriage through thick and thin. Initially strained and bunched up near his ears, you watch as they, little by little, deflate and relax as he leans back against the door, eyes closed and breathing deeply. 

The sight is so domestically romantic that you feel your body warm and pulse race. The idea that his home-your shared home-brings him that much peace and tranquility, is dizzying. And when he reaches up with one hand and loosens his tie, swallowing thickly as he drags the knot down to his chest, your mouth waters and your fingers curl into the doorframe for support. 

When his eyes flutter open and they meet yours, a soft smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, tired, but still so innately ‘Kuroo’ that you feel your breath hitch. 

“Ah, there she is. I’ve been missing you all day.” 

Later that night, when that same tie is tied around your wrists and your thighs are held open by his large, rough palms, you can’t help but feel a surge of pride when you notice the stress from earlier has completely melted off, because more than anything, Kuroo just wants to be with his wife.

❥ Osamu Miya- multitasking but mostly anything to do with his hands

“Did ya hear me, sweets?” Osamu’s voice pulls you back to the present. You blink and yank your eyes away from the chopping board in front of him, and meet his gaze. 

“Huh?” you ask, blushing slightly from being caught staring, but Osamu only smiles wider, tilting his head while his hands and fingers continue to expertly dice a stalk of green onion. 

“I asked if you were feelin’ hungry. Yer starin’.” 

Your eyes widen but you shake your head quickly. “Oh, um, I’m fine.” 

You aren’t fine. Far from it. There is a reason why you avoid being in the same kitchen as Osamu, and it’s staring you right in the face. 

Heat pools in your lower belly when he shrugs, but continues his story. You aren’t even sure what he’s talking about anymore-something to do with his brother and a game he has coming up. You lost track when he pulled out a sharp knife and tray of vegetables, and your attention has been solely fixed on one thing since then. 

Your husband’s hands. 

The expert way he dices or slices every ingredient to perfection. The ease in which he laughs through his words, but his ministrations never pause or still-not even for a second. Even as he’s doubled over, clearly more interested in his retelling of Atsumu’s latest adventure in dating. His fingers. Never. Stop. 

They move swiftly with long, fluid movements that come with years of practice and a love for what he does. But that’s not all. Sure, Osamu’s hands are pretty, and you know how talented they are, having watched him play volleyball in high school when you first started dating. 

It’s the confidence that makes you pause. 

The fact that he can hold a conversation and actively listen, his eyes never leaving yours, all while he holds an object that could end his career if he misses the mark by even one inch. 

That was what makes you step up close to him, interrupting his story with your sudden movements. 

“Samu, do you think… You can take a break? For a little while?” 

Something in your tone makes his hands slow, and when you flick your gaze up to his, his lips are parted and he releases a soft, surprised breath. 

Later, in his office, when he pulls your confession out of you with those same fingers, stuffed deep inside you, you catch a glimpse of a smirk, followed by a few whispered words that will be forever ingrained into your head. 

“And just how long has my pretty lil’ wife been wishin’ her husband’s fingers were soaked with her cum?”

Plagiarism not authorized

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