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a-kaash-me-outside · 3 months

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a bit dirty - ch6

in which you hook up with osamu in a club bathroom and that's just the beginning. prev | ch6 [masterlist]

// a really great idea ~ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ~ 7392 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni nsfw, squirting, sex in a bed!!, a lot of feelings and love!!!!, intimacy in more than just the bedroom fr, names names names pet names a million pet names, oral f!receiving, afab she/her pronouns

tori talks: oh good god guys we're finally here. thanks to everyone who is going to read this last chapter even though it literally took me over 6 months to write it. i hope you enjoy it and i'm glad it's over and that it happened. ily all. hope u enjoy. ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

you’re not sure you’d admit it to anyone, but walking into osamu’s apartment for the first time feels like coming home after a long day at work. you can see yourself here, more than you can in your own apartment or your childhood home. you feel just a little bit more like yourself, shoulders relaxing in a way that you didn’t think they needed to, breath a tiny fraction steadier. you’re not sure you’ve felt this comfortable in a really long time.

you don’t have to ask him where to put your shoes or where to hang your jacket, and he doesn’t take them from you either. he doesn’t put them away for you or tell you to hang them on the hangers in the empty closet down the hall.

when he unlocks his door and pushes inside, you mimic his motions, placing your shoes gingerly on the rack to the right of the closet between his white sneakers and black work shoes, hanging your jacket on the empty hooks above the spot where you've just retired your shoes.

stepping deeper into his apartment, he offers a small, “so, welcome,” he says, gesturing to the living room, one hand softly wrapped around yours as he tugs you along. stepping past the barrier of the front door, further into osamu’s space, you don’t feel like a guest here. you just feel like you belong.

“oh my god, it’s so clean in here,” you say, a few paces ahead of him now, but he refuses to break contact, to let go of your fingertips so he walks quickly along with you.

“well, yea, i’m not really ever home,” he explains, shrugging, as you walk around his living room eyes stopping at the neatly organized coffee table with cork coasters and a yellow hard-covered book titled this book will make you kinder, at the photos on his wall of him and his brother and him and his restaurant and him and suna, at the plants in the window sill and the dustless, dirtless ledge beneath them.

you shake your head, “no, that’s not true. you come home after work and you’re here before you leave for work, and i’m sure you’re super busy leaving in the morning and super tired when you come home at night, so it’s really impressive that it’s really clean.”

he lets out a half-laugh, a breathy light scoff in the place of a real response. you turn around, looking at him directly with a mischievous look on your face, “unless you cleaned your apartment just for me tonight?”

osamu’s quiet, a very telling silence, a wordless admittance. “oh my god!” you say, hands on your hip, and the slight hold that he has on your fingertips isn’t broken yet, his hand now pressed against your side, fingers curling around your hip as he pulls you a little closer.

“okay!” he admits, “so i am pretty tidy anyways, but there may have been a few dishes in the sink and the bed might not have been made and the couch cushions didn’t look that good before but-”

you shake your head, clicking your tongue, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you tease, “how presumptuous of you that i would come back here after our date?”

“i didn’t think we’d just fuck in the bathroom again, baby, what was i supposed to do, you literally said-” he says, trying to explain himself, unstoppable smile on his face as he pulls you even closer to him.

“do you think i’m that kinda girl? to just fuck you on the first date?” you ask, palm flat against his chest now, the other hand snaking up to lazily drape around his neck.

he shakes his head, wrapping his arms around you tight around your arms and shoulders, holding you in place as he laughs so deep that it sends tingles and shivers down your spine and skin. “you’re very funny, y’know that?” he asks, squishing you against his chest as he presses kiss after kiss into the top of your head.

“you made the bed? fixed the couch cushions? samu, i mean, really, what did you think was going to happen tonight?” you giggle, emphasizing every other word dramatically as you squirm in his tight grasp.

“i mean,” he says, leaning back to look at the warmth on your face, the fluster that lies with it, “you are here, aren’t you? i couldn’t have been that wrong if the cleaning paid off.”

you giggle harder now, leaning up and pressing a kiss into wherever you can reach in his strong hold. “i sure am,” you agree. he loosens his grip, hand falling down your arm to thread his fingers with yours again. he pecks a small kiss against your lips and then your cheek.

“you sure are,” he says, warmly.

you really could’ve stayed in the middle of his living room forever surrounded by couches and books on shelves and an impressive entertainment system. you didn’t need any of it either, didn’t need a place to sit or things to keep you busy, you’d be really happy just staring at osamu for the rest of time, at hearing him laugh, at feeling his pulse in your palm.

“can i getcha a drink?” he asks, pulling you out of this mellow, love-struck state in the name of hospitality.

“only if i can come with you,” you say, looking over his shoulder into the kitchen. your motivation is 70% wanting to stay with osamu and 30% wanting to see what his kitchen looks like: what kind of mugs he has, where he keeps his silverware, if his knives and pans are on display or tucked away in cabinets.

“clingy,” he teases, smile huge because there wasn’t any way that he was leaving you alone for even a second.

“fine! i'll stay in here,” you pout.

he doesn’t respond, only laughs and pulls you by the hand, “come on, pretty.”

you don’t protest anymore, following along happily into the kitchen, forcing yourself to sit on the barstool in front of the bar rather than snoop in his cupboards and drawers. he’s hesitant to let his touch fall from yours, to let go of the contact he has on your hand and your hip, but he does, presses a small kiss into the side of your head, and walks deeper into his kitchen.

from here you can see the kettle on the counter and the knives on a metallic strip above the black countertop. the pans are nowhere to be seen. they must be hidden away somewhere safe. you don’t say anything and neither does he as he pulls wine glasses and mugs and cups out of the cupboard and places them on the countertop in front of you.

and you still don’t feel like a guest.

it feels like osamu getting you a drink is because he loves you, like you could get up and get your own if you wanted to, like you already knew where the tea bags were and the spoons and the shelf that the sugar resided, like next time you would return the favor, let him sit down for a minute while you made the two of you tea or poured another glass of wine.

“what’s it gonna be?” he asks, gesturing to your choices on the bar in front of you.

“y’know you could’ve just asked me that before pulling out all the cups?” you tease, eyes moving from cup to mug to wine glass.

he shrugs, “not as visual.”

“what are you in the mood for?” you ask, reaching to pick up the mug, black ceramic with a gray stripe along the base. you turn it over in your hand, running your fingers along the matte texture. yeah, this feels like a mug osamu would own.

“anything, really,” he says, smiling before the rest of the flirt even comes out of his mouth, “as long as i’m drinking it with you on my couch, i will be very happy.”

you roll your eyes. it’s really unfair how predictable, yet how adorable, he is when it comes to things like that. “alright, how about wine now, tea later?” you ask.

he rests both of his hands on the edge of the counter for a moment, nodding as he does, removing the cups from the counter and pushing the mugs towards the tea kettle. “sounds like a plan, angel,” he says, disappearing behind the pantry door and coming back with a bottle of wine.

he doesn’t recork the wine or put the bottle back, leaves it exactly where he sets it on the counter in a rush to just drink wine on his couch with you. he carries your glass for you as he guides you back to the couch.

sitting on the plush, perfectly set cushions, tucking yourself into the corner against the arm rest, osamu pressed up against you, pulling your legs over the tops of his, his hand resting comfortably on your calf, you’re not sure you’ll ever really be ready to go back to your own cold, lonely apartment. when you close your eyes, you can see this moment next week and next month and three years from now.

your first glass of wine isn’t even finished before he interrupts your current conversation of favorite movies and media with a stupidly cute, nervous question, “so, can i ask you now?”

you want to be stunned or at least fake it, but you can only lean closer into him, setting your wine glass down on the coaster on the coffee table to wrap both of your arms around his bicep. “ask me what?” you tease.

he shakes his head, “y’know that night i thought you were so out of my league.”

you lean backwards, mouth agape, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, “no fucking way.”

“swear,” he laughs, leaning forward to set his glass down next to yours, “and i was out of my depth, had no idea what i was doing, just couldn’t stop staring at you-”

“oh, i know,” you say, recalling his smitten, lingering stare so perfectly that your face feels warm, “every time i would look over in your direction you would be looking at me like this.” you mimic your recollection as best as you can.

he puts his face in his hands. “that’s so embarrassing,” he says, and it’s muffled by his palms. you wrap your hands around his wrists, pulling them away from his face and kissing the backs of them.

“no, no, it was cute,” you say, but he still groans. you continue, “samu, i was into it, obviously.”

he explains further, “sumu was like shoving me over there so blatantly that i almost didn’t go over there.” he shakes his head at the memory, at the alternate universe where his stupid brother alone failed to start the best chain of events of his life. “and then omi leaned over to me and was like, ‘i'll distract your dumbass brother, go have a good night, you deserve it.’”

“remind me to thank him then,” you say, softly, shifting against the couch to lean against his shoulder instead of the armrest.

“will do,” he says, smile in his voice as he snakes his arm around your waist, hand resting on the side of your thigh. “i’ve thanked him plenty for both of us, but it might mean more coming from a new mouth.”

“you just say the most romantic things like it’s nothing,” you say.

“i don’t try,” he admits, “just hard not to be romantic when i’m with you.” he reaches across you with his other arm, pulls you further into his lap until both of your knees are on either side of his thighs and you’re facing him. “sorry,” he mumbles, “wanted to look at ya.”

“you’ve gotta be doing this on purpose,” you whisper.

his fingers scrape against the tops of your tights before rooting on your hips. he shakes his head. “it’s all you, really,” he whispers back. “these thoughts just come into my mind and i say them. love you so much, you make it easy.”

you’re very grateful for this position because it’s effortless to lean down and crash your lips into his, to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him deeper into the kiss, to feel his chest lift to kiss you harder. he tastes like expensive wine and a little bit like you still and you might cry, he’s just really perfect.

he places his hand on your shoulder, holds you in place as he leans back into the couch. the pout is already forming on your lip, so he runs his thumb across it gently. “will you be mine?” he asks, adding before you’ve even answered, “let me love you with labels.”

“oh my god, samu, you’re going to kill me, y’know that?” you say, hands cupping both of his cheeks before kissing him sweetly. “how do you expect me to keep up with this?”

“just say yes,” he says, quickly, “that’s enough for me.”

“of course,” you say, forehead resting gently against his, kiss placed on his nose and then the high of his cheekbone. you repeat it again just in case he missed it the first time, “of course.”

“i’m sorry that i didn’t make this happen sooner,” he says, soft sigh accompanying his remorseful tone.

“stop that,” you hush him.

“i mean it,” he says, sitting up into you a bit more, “if i would’ve figured my shit out sooner, we could’ve been doing this for months.”

“yeah, but you don’t know if everything would’ve turned out the same way,” you say, bringing your hands up into his hair, “if that would’ve been too soon or if we needed to go through all we went through to be as strong as we are now, there’s no way to know, really.”

he smiles at you, not opening his mouth to say anything, just soaking in the moment, humming at your astute thought. you continue, “i guess i just mean that, yea, getting more time with you would’ve been great, but we can’t do anything about that. so i’m just really glad to be with you now, here, drinking wine and sitting in your lap and kissing you.”

“and you say i’m the romantic,” he murmurs, kissing you once more.

“you are,” you argue.

/\ /\ /\

neither of you even finish your first glass of wine. even if you had, there was no way the two of you were untangling from each other and making your way into the kitchen for another, not in the middle of unimportance conversations about your thoughts on christmas lights or osamu’s thoughts on the type of pet he’d like to have one day.

but as the hours tick on, as the clock hands droop lower and lower, osamu knows that you need some sort of transition period to staying the night. “cup of tea before we go to bed?” he asks, head resting against the back cushion of the couch staring into your eyes with as much love as he can.

“are you being presumptuous again, samu?” you tease, but your eyelids are getting heavier and you can’t put a lot of effort into the taunting.

“i’m sorry, princess, do you want to stay the night?” he asks, gut-wrenchingly sincere.

“i would really love that, yea,” you say, flustered in the backfiring of your banter, “and tea sounds really nice too.”

he nods, once, short and happy, ready to move you off of his lap to go get the two of you a final drink before bed, but you get off of him first. “i’ll get it,” you offer, waiting with bated breath for him to fight you on it or to be weirded out by the forwardness of raiding his kitchen to feel the domesticity a little harder.

he doesn’t protest at all, lets the smitten, lingering stare last for a few moments before saying, “only if i can come with you.”

before you’ve made it to the kitchen with osamu in tow, he stops you, plants in place in front of the hallway to his bedroom, and nods towards it. “but first, can we get you into some comfier clothes?” he asks. “nighttime tea tastes better when you’re in comfy clothes,” he reasons. you can’t disagree.

you follow him down the hall to his room. you don’t get a good look at his plainly decorated room or the nicely made bed as you wait in the doorway. he returns quickly with a t-shirt of his. “you can change in the bathroom across the hall if you want,” he offers.

“you know you were inside of me in a fancy restaurant bathroom hours ago, right?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, pushing past him into his room and taking off all of your date clothes. osamu folds them neatly as you set them on the bed. when he picks up your torn tights, he can’t hold back his small laugh.

“oh yea, so funny,” you joke, “you can probably throw those away.”

“but they’re perfectly good for having sex in public bathrooms,” he jokes back.

you pull his shirt over your head, soft cotton taking the place of going out clothes and the difference is already lulling you to sleep. you’re determined to make osamu tea, but you can’t promise most of the cup won’t go cold on the counter.

it doesn’t take long for osamu to be on you, arms wrapped around your waist, hands roaming over your body, “you look so good right now.”

“shut up,” you say, pushing him away with the least amount of resolve anyone has ever had, “imagine how i feel looking at you wearing stuff like this.”

“you look better in it than i do,” he says, shaking his head.

“not possible,” you say back.

he leans down to kiss you once before reluctantly pulling away, walking back over to his dresser to change into comfier clothes as well. if you weren’t so stupidly tired, seeing osamu shirtless and in super casual sweatpants would’ve been the perfect catalyst for your first night together having sex in a bed.

tea. sleep. tea. sleep. tea. sleep. you remind yourself.

“c’mon, angel,” he coaxes, pulling you by your hand back down the hallway and into the kitchen. he leans against the countertop, doesn’t say another word or try to make you tea despite your earlier statement.

you start the kettle with the push of a button, pull the mugs from across the counter in front of you. you pluck two tea bags from the glass jar where they live. you have to open a few cupboards before finding the spoons, but the sugar is right where you think it will be.

“i think knowing that you take sugar in your tea is both the most surprising thing and also somehow completely aligns with who you are,” you reason, pouring the gently boiling water over the tea bags. by the time you finish your sentence, you’ve noticed the enamored look on his face, but you don’t have time to comment on it as he replies.

“that’s because you know me really well,” he says, nodding, loving smile still lingering. you put half of a spoonful of sugar into the cup, stir until it dissolves and then slid it against the countertop to him. he wraps his fingers around the warm cup, brings it to his lips, blows on it gently as if that’s going to do anything at all, and then takes the smallest sip. “perfect.”

you lean against the edge of the counter, holding the mug in your hands, waiting for the air to cool down the steaming beverage. “i think i’d be really okay with ending every single day of my life just like this,” you admit. if his eyes go wide or he recoils even the smallest percentage, you’ll blame it on the eventful day and the exhaustion that’s quickly overcoming you, but they don’t. his features soften, hand reaches across the counter to rub the back of your hand.

“me too,” he reciprocates. “you’ll have to stay over more often,” he doubles down.

“what?” you ask, taking a sip of your tea. you can feel the warmth hit your stomach. “have dinner ready for you when you come home and spend your nights off intertwined on the couch?” everything that you’re saying is getting closer and closer to practically asking to move in, but osamu doesn’t seem to mind.

“exactly that,” he murmurs, “you’ll have to see if you like my bed first, though, before you resign yourself to coming over every night.”

“every night?” you ask, cheeky smile the only form of teasing that you’re giving right now, “maybe we should go check it out then.” you take one more sip of your tea and then set the cup down on the counter. osamu doesn’t even do that, pulls you away from behind the counter and down the hall.

you climb into his bed, under his covers without asking or another mention. osamu joins you, climbing into the other side, and the two of you don’t waste a single second, curling up against each other, limbs lazily tangling, pressing up against one another as close as you possibly can.

“the first time we’re in a bed together and we’re not even having sex,” he says, softly, reaching over and turning off his bedside light. it takes a few moments for your eyes to get adjusted, to make out the shapes of his face in the dark.

“crazy, right?” you ask, smiling as you snuggling into his chest impossibly closer.

“i like this though,” he admits, traces his fingers up and down your arms, “just being in bed with you, falling asleep with you, means i get to wake up with you.”

you hum at his voice, soft and deep, and the darkness looks the same as it does with shut eyes, but you’re trying your best to not let the sleep take you that fast. “can you keep me awake?” you ask.

“you’re literally falling asleep as we speak,” he says, your eyelids fluttering shut as if to make a point. you shake your head, but you don’t say anything else. “why do you want me to keep you awake, babygirl?”

“cause i wanna be in this moment a little while longer,” you reason, breath taking over your voice as the darkness and warmth pull you into a comforting hug.

“we’ll have plenty of time for moments like this later,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “plenty of time, so go to sleep, angel.”

you’re not even embarrassed at how quickly you listen to him.

/\ /\ /\

if last night wasn’t enough to convince you that you were exactly where you needed to be for the rest of your life, waking up in osamu’s arms definitely was. they’re strong around you, wrapped tightly around your waist, nose nuzzled into the back of your neck, legs intertwined with yours.

you’re incredibly surprised that you’ve woken up first, but the second that you start to stir, osamu’s grip loosens, and his head peaks over your shoulder and he places a small kiss on your cheek. “mornin’,” he says, raspy as he talks off the sleep.

you turn in his arms, laying flat on your back so you can look at him directly. “good morning,” you say back, lifting your head to kiss him. “very good morning,” you say again.

“cute,” he murmurs against your lips, “stupidly cute.” you reach your arms up, draping them over his neck loosely to pull him down into you. “do you want breakfast or something?” he asks.

you shake your head, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “no,” you say, “well, maybe later? i think right now i just want, y’know, this.” you gesture with a small nod not really towards anything in particular, just to the situation.

he laughs, kissing the side of your face, “alright, this it is.”

you don’t say much else. nor does he. it’s all stolen kisses and roaming touches and silent exchanges. you don’t feel the need to talk, don’t have much to say, you’re communicating just fine without them.

every touch is getting needier, every kiss is getting longer, sloppier, more desperate, and the only thing that you’ve been able to think about for the last hour is all of the promises that have been made to you about after date things.

it doesn’t help that he’s on top of you now, tops of his thighs resting between your legs, hands on either side of your waist just looking at you like that. the first thing you say in over an hour is, “what, samu?”

he laughs, pushing his fingertips up your body, under the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and up until your entire stomach is exposed. “god, you’re so hot,” he says, grabbing onto your waist to pull you closer to him.

“samu,” you whine.

“what, doll? it’s true,” he says, pushing your shirt up even further now, tits on display so pretty that you can feel him begin to grow hard against your inner thigh. “so pretty,” he murmurs. he tugs your shirt off, tosses it to the side with no regard for the tidiness of his room anymore.

you’ve really never been this exposed before when you’ve had sex with osamu, always an article of clothes on, but now the only thing stopping you from being completely naked is the thin fabric of your panties and osamu’s fingers are already hooked in the waistband. you don’t protest as he drags them down your thighs, picks up your legs and rests them on his shoulder as he does.

he presses a kiss into the side of your leg, slowly drops them back around him. your stomach is in knots, can barely breathe with the way that he’s looking at you, eyes traveling down your body so slowly that you can see each point that they linger a second longer.

“fuck, you look good,” osamu says, leaning down to kiss your shoulders, your collarbones, your chest.

“shut up,” you murmur, fingers threading into his hair, scratching against the back of his head as he scrapes his teeth against your sensitive skin.

“no, i’m serious,” he says, leaning back, “you’re so fucking pretty, gorgeous actually.”

“ew, shut up,” you push him away jokingly, gently, “or i’m not going to let you fuck me unless we’re fully clothed ever again,” you joke.

he laughs against your neck, breath and vibrations tickling the wet skin. every single kiss feels personal, hand-crafted and perfectly thought of just for you. the placement is direct and purposeful and you can feel his love in every single one.

“god, i’m going to take my time with you,” he says, pulling away again. you can feel the blush blooming under your skin, warming up every inch of you, igniting fires in your stomach.

“first time that we have a lot of it,” you joke, coaxing him back up to your lips. “and first time that i don’t have to be situated on a sink or the floor.”

“so you’ll be perfectly comfortable,” he says, kisses trailing between your tits and down your stomach, “while i eat you all morning long.”

“samu,” you say, crook of your elbow rising up to your face to hide behind it. he reaches up, pulls it away from your face.

“don’t hide from me, doll, look so cute like that,” he says, laying between your thighs, pushing them open with familiar hands. you give in to the gentle pressure so easily that you swear you hear the faintest laugh coming from Osamu, but the light kisses peppering your thighs that follow gain your focus instantly.

it should feel agonizing, the way he takes his time dragging his lips across every part of the skin between your legs, kissing and biting lightly. but the longer he’s there the more laughter flutters through your chest, the more your cheeks flush, the more loved you feel. you bring your hands to his face as he rests his head against your knee cupping one under his jaw and using the other to push his hair back a little.

“make me feel so pretty, samu,” you mumble. he makes no attempt to answer, just holds your gaze with loving eyes as he brings himself to ghost near your already soaked pussy, the feeling his breath overwhelming any of your other senses.

“just want you to see yourself through my eyes, princess.” the end of his sentence comes with a long, slow swipe of his tongue against your hyper sensitive clit and it feels good to finally not worry about who can hear you.

you dig your head back into the pillow, hair already a mess after a perfectly restful night’s sleep. you can feel his eyes burning into you, even if you can’t see them, even if your focus is really anywhere but the agonizing feather-like touches between your legs.

it’s a shame, you think, but only for a moment, that his mouth is so busy that you can’t hear him call you pretty names or poke fun at you for whining so much. only for a moment.

if there’s one thing that osamu cannot be called it’s all-or-nothing. osamu doesn’t do all-or-nothing; he does slowly, consistently, comfortably, and then all. this is no exception. he runs his tongue between your puffy lips, smears your juices all over your sensitive pussy with the tip, and then he eats you- not like a man-starved, but like a man who he gets to indulge in his favorite dessert.

his fingertips are digging into the fat of your hips, palms pressing to keep you in place, to keep you from squirming, and it’s working. he lets you scratch your nails into his hair, down the back of his neck, resting on the tops of his shoulders. you don’t guide him, don’t buck your hips impatiently, you don’t need to. if he isn’t lapping exactly where you want him to, you know he will be soon, you know it’s deliberate, you know that he knows what’s best for you even if you have to wait for it.

you’re not sure you know how many times you come on his tongue, how many are attributed to just his tongue and how many are attributed to the noises that he’s making, the grunts that are coming from his throat, the mumbled praises that he’s whispering against your soaked folds, the squeaking of the mattress from the soft grinding that he’s doing against the blankets.

without a watch, you’d have claimed you were there for hours, all morning, just like he said. you’re not sure if he would’ve stopped either, if you hadn’t sat up on your forearm, somehow more out of breath than he was, and tugged on his hair. “samu, baby,” you whine.

you can’t help it, the even-more-breathless-breathlessness that hits you when he looks into your eyes, bottom of his face soaked with you, licks his lips, wipes the rest of it with his palm, and crawls slowly up to meet you. he kisses you hard, as hard as you’ll let him, and then he kisses you again, and then he kisses your cheek, and then your jaw, then your neck, mumbles against your skin, “what do you want now, bunny?” he’ll give you anything. “i’ll give you anything.” you know that he will.

the opportunities are endless. the world is your oyster. anything that you ask for, he will give you, and it will be wrapped with neat paper and a pretty bow with a handwritten note several miles long. you swallow, eyes searching his face for nothing in particular, just because he’s pretty and because he’s yours.

“i don’t think i have anything to ask for, because you’re already mine,” you whisper.

his face lights up, skin hot and flushed on the highs of his cheeks and traveling down his neck and chest. for a second it looks like he short-circuits, like you’ve broken him just by telling him the truth, and then, in a second, the world catches back up to him.

he shakes his head slowly and then you’re on top of him, sat with both legs on either sides of his, strong hands steadying you before you can even clock that you need to be steadied. “you’re really asking for it, huh?” he asks, and now you’re feeling warm.

“i- what are you talking about, samu,” you say, eyebrows furrowed. you can feel his hips- and yourself- lift off the bed as the fabric between the backs of your thighs and the tops of his is replaced with soft skin. you yelp softly as you’re lowered back down, hands on your inner thighs pushing you back just enough for his cock to rest between them.

you’re soaking wet, making a mess between your lips and on the insides of your legs and now all over his hard cock, slowly pushing through your pressed together thighs. he brings his hips off the bed, steady thrusts rocking the mattress ever so slightly, both his hands squeezing the outsides of your thighs. he clicks his tongue, “saying shit like that, angel, you know i’m not going to be able to help myself.”

“samu,” you repeat, breathless. “what ar-.”

he cuts you off, sliding his thumb from the tip of his cock to the base, his leaking head slipping between your messy lips until it’s teasing your hole. “sound so in love with me, baby, need to fucking feel you around me so fucking bad right now,” he breathes, sharp inhale punctuating his sentence as he pulls you by your hips until you’re fully seated on his cock.

you don’t know if the warmth is coming from the blush or touch of his skin or the desire that’s burning in your core, but it’s there, and before you can even fully register what he’s saying, he’s honest-to-god whimpering, spouting more lovey bullshit, “god, it’s like falling in love with you made you fit even more perfectly around me.” he lifts you slightly, fingers digging into your hips as he lets you slowly fall back down onto his cock.

he tilts his head into the pillow, but immediately picks it back up, locking eyes with you before letting his gaze fall down your body, like he can’t believe you really exist, like he can’t believe he let himself relax into a position where he couldn’t see you at all times, like he “can’t believe you’re fucking real,” he grunts, “and that you’re all fucking mine.”

“osamu, if you don’t knock it off,” you say. you’re only half-joking. you’re not sure that you could take him talking to you like this for much longer. you feel so full, every part of you feels so full. you slide your hands down his chest, palm against his rapidly beating heart acting as leverage as you start moving in time with him.

you close your eyes, partially to focus on the parts of you that are on fire right now, and partially so that you don’t have to keep looking at how much osamu is looking at you. he can’t keep his hands off of you, can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“can’t help it, pretty, not when i get to savor it like this,” he says, brings his chest up and wraps his arms around your back, holding you securely to him. he kisses the side of your face, whispers in your ear, “not when i finally get to fuck you in my bed and tell you that i love you and see you- all of you.”

“are you trying to make me cry or something?” you ask, placing both of your hands on either side of his face, forcing his attention on just your eyes and the hints of shyness strewn all over your face.

a slight smirk is followed by raised eyebrows and a tiny kiss to the temple. osamu flips you over, lying you gently on your back while you’re still fully encompassing him. “that can be arranged, puppy,” he says, kissing down your neck, nipping at your shoulders and chest. he slams his hips into you and you can’t help the pleasured, high-pitched moan that comes as a result. in fact, you can’t help the ones that come one after another after another as he keeps snapping his hips, insides of your thighs growing raw from the impact.

you’re babbling at this point, a symphony of half-finished words and tiny whimpers, and when a single tear breaks free of your blurred waterline, osamu can’t hold back. “fuck, holy fuck, babygirl, you sound so good, don’t stop, princess, keep making those cute fucking noises, fuck, sound so good.”

you shake your head no and hope that he understands what it means, that you won’t stop as long as he doesn’t. you’ll cry and scream and make cute little noises for him forever if he never pulls out of you.

you’ve always known that fucking in bathrooms has been disadvantageous, you just couldn’t pinpoint it, not when it always felt so good anyway. you never thought the space bothered you or the hard, cold various materials of sinks or the fact that people were often only a door away; you never thought any of that mattered until now, now when you can cry for him and feel the softness of the blankets beneath you and the plushness of the pillow behind your head.

“baby,” you cry, “i’m- you’re gonna- fuck, i love you so much. i’m-.” you throw your head back, you can’t finish your half-constructed sentence before osamu is fucking you faster, harder, wrapping an arm around your lower back and lifting you up the slightest bit to angle you perfectly. your hand moves on instinct, reaches down between your legs and circles your throbbing clit for only a second before you’re squirting all over him, a release of pressure drenching him as you gasp for air, drawing in enough breath to cry out his name.

you place your hand on his lower abs, eyes closing softly to center yourself. you could’ve passed out right here, slept for a million years, and you’re not sure you would’ve completely recovered. your body is shaking, throat is sore, and when you open your eyes, osamu is looking at you with such adoration and awe that you’re certain you’ve missed something.

“the first time we’re not in a fucking bathroom and you fucking make me squirt,” you mumble, shaking your head, “what are we going to do with you?” you ask, removing your hand from his stomach, silently letting him know you’ve recovered enough for him to keep going.

“i don’t care,” he says, kissing your jaw, “i don’t care what you do with me for the rest of my life, that was the most amazing thing i’ve ever seen.”

“you made a mess,” you tease.

“i made a mess?” he asks.

you nod.

he breathes a laugh before accepting responsibility, “i made a mess,” he confirms.

“so you’ve gotta do one thing for me,” you say, circling your hips, matching his lazy thrusts as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“anything,” he says. and you know that he means it.

you use your loose grip around his neck to coax him closer to you, your lips now pressed against his ear. “need you to make a mess inside of me, samu, please,” you say, low enough to send shivers down his spine from the tone alone. his hips stutter. he wants to regain composure, to not give in to blowing his load deep inside of you just from you saying his name and asking him nicely, he really wants to savor it and last a little bit longer.

but you’re so wet. you’re drenched, but you’re still so tight and sucking him in so nicely, perfectly sculpted for him, gummy walls still clenching and fluttering from your orgasm, and you kiss the skin right below his ear and you say, “please, i’ve been waiting for it ever since i fucking met you, please, don’t make me wait any longer.”

and he can’t.

he wouldn’t.

he doesn’t.

he snaps his hips forwards, pressing himself flush against the insides of your thighs and releases deep inside of you. you can feel his cock pulse with each stream, feel yourself getting fuller and fuller and fuller with each throb and accompanying grunt. you can’t get enough. you don’t want it to ever stop, but it does. he keeps himself deep inside of you for a moment, not wanting to lose the feeling just as much as you don’t.

when he starts to get soft, he pulls out, come dripping out of your hole and onto the blankets below just adding to the mess the two of you have created in the span of a few hours. he doesn’t exactly know where to go, what to do. the two of you could’ve passed out just like this, intertwined together and had the most incredible sleep of your entire life, if it weren’t for the huge mess beneath you.

“what now?” you mumble, not moving.

you feel osamu flop next to you. you’re not sure if he’s avoided the mess or if he’s embraced it. part of you wants to stand up and apologize and start throwing his bedspread in the washer, but that part of you isn’t winning, not today. if that part of osamu exists, it’s not winning either. he wraps his arms around your waist, rests his head on your chest, pulls you into him.

“are we just going to lay in this?” you say, laughing. it sounds ridiculous coming out of your mouth, but you’re sure it wouldn’t take much convincing for you to not have to move from this very spot. osamu doesn’t answer you, but you feel him unwrap from your body and then get off the bed. you go to sit up, but you don’t make it that far, opening your eyes as osamu pulls the blankets out from under you and throws them in a heap in the corner of his tidy room. he opens the closet door and comes back with a spare, small, but clean blanket.

he reassumes his position on the now-much-more-acceptable bed, throwing the blanket overtop of you and him and cuddling into your side. “is that better?” he asks, but he doesn’t really expect a response. your small smile and content hum is all he needs.

after only a few moments, recuperated by a clean blanket and strong arms, your body is ready to move onto the next thing, ready to get up and start making breakfast or start kissing him again or start getting ready for work despite how long you have until your shift. your skin is antsy, pulse is quickening. there are a trillion things in your head that you want to do with osamu, plenty of dull activities that seem like they’ll be much better with him by your side. you want to see them. you want to do them.

osamu shifts and pulls you into his chest, kisses the top of your head. “love you, angel,” he murmurs into your hair. “love you so much,” he says again. you feel calmer now, the most at ease you’ve ever been, because you know that there’ll be time for all of that, plenty of time, hours and hours of time to do all of the things that you want to do with osamu, more time than you know what to do with, you just know it.

for now, all you have to do is lay here, in bed, surrounded by warmth in more ways that you thought were possible, maybe let sleep take you again or stay awake in these passing moments, it doesn’t really matter. your exhale is steady, matches with his. you close your eyes and you can see this moment next week and next month and three years from now.

you look happy there.

you look really happy there.

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

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

tori talks more: i do not know if i'll be around to write more to be honest with you. like i probably will at some point, but who knows. maybe when the new movie comes out. maybe ill do a jjk pivot bc i just finished it. feel free to scream in my inbox abt it or this or whatever. ily all and im so glad i could finally finish this. <3 :)

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

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veenxys · 1 year

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「Making out with Haikyuu boys」

⤷ Bokuto

he loves messy kisses where he can show all his love and need for you. runs his hands over you, from your thighs up and down your back. he loves to bite your bottom lip just to see a reaction from you. he likes to control the direction of the kiss, sometimes even taking your hands and putting them around his neck, or just pulling you into his lap.

⤷ Kuroo

he likes to tease you; it starts with soft, sweet kisses and quickly turns into deep, passionate kisses. he likes to pull away just to see you searching his lips, needing him. he likes to put you on his lap so that you are impossibly close; you feel the heat of his body as he kisses you passionately, squeezing and stroking your body as if that’s the last thing he’s going to do. he also likes to bite and suck your bottom lip and smile against you when you gasp against him.

⤷ Atsumu

you held his cheek so gently and leaned in, placing a tender kiss on his lips, looking at him passionately and giving him a sweet smile, and that’s what drove him crazy. he feels his heart racing and butterflies appear in his stomach. he would then pull you back to sit on his lap and he would kiss you again and again and again until you were pulling away breathlessly. smiling at each other, he puts his hand in your hair and caresses the back of your neck with one hand while the other glides down your body before pulling you into a passionate kiss again.

⤷ Osamu

one of his main goals is to get a reaction from you. he knows your every weak spot and every thing you love him to do and he will do anything just to hear you moan or gasp against him. he loves to kiss your neck or jaw, run his hands over your body, pull you against him so you can feel him… he knows how to leave you on cloud nine.

⤷ Oikawa

he likes to get between your legs while giving you a few teasing kisses everywhere but your mouth, just so he can see you ask him for what you both want. he knows your weaknesses and likes to use them against you just to see your reaction and teasingly say “do you like that, love?” “do you want me to do it again?” he manages to stay in charge only for a while because you are his weak point and, when he least expects it, he is completely surrendered and obsessed with you; needing your touch and your taste more than anything.

⤷ Nishinoya

loves it when he can kiss you against a wall, leaning in and pecking your lips sweetly before you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer, biting his bottom lip. always pulls back to gently brush some hair from your face with a loving, teasing look in his eyes.

⤷ Kenma

his kisses and caresses start off shy but affectionate; leaving light kisses on your lips, stroking your thigh with his thumb before finally kissing you again with more passion. his lips are soft against yours, sweet in a way that makes you wish this moment would never pass. he takes your cheek in his hand and strokes it gently with his thumb. he likes to leave kisses on your jaw and neck and hide his face in your neck and smile because, like you, he never wants this moment to end.

⤷ Suna

lazy making out with him is a favorite. you could be lying in bed together, watching a movie when he starts spraying kisses all over your cheek/neck. soon the movie is forgotten as all your attention is focused on his lips and the way his hands touch you so needy and loving. your hand is on his cheek while you kiss him deeply but slowly.

⤷ Sakusa

loves to kiss your neck. his lips would run down from your lips to your jaw, then your neck, his tongue peeking out to lick the skin teasingly, sometimes nipping at it. soft whispers of “you are so beautiful” between kisses, little sighs when he leaves hickeys on your skin. he always smiles and buries his face in your neck afterwards, just enjoying the warmth of your body.

⤷ Hinata

his intentions in the beginning were innocent; just a sweet kiss on your lips and a squeeze on your waist as a show of affection. but when he least expects it, he’s on top of you on the couch; you sliding your arms around his neck as you deepen the kiss. him running his hands over your body, leaving light grips and soft caresses as he moves his body against yours, making you gasp against him. his lips moving in a slow, passionate rhythm as he likes to take his time making out.

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missmeinyourbones · 6 months

Note

MIYA OSAMU

a/n: NSFW 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED FOR INTERACTING, oral (m!receiving), kinda mean and rough osamu, spit, cum eating/swallowing, face fucking and head pushing

...

your vision is a bit hazy.

osamu's words come a bit muffled, almost as if you're underwater, when he tilts your head upwards to where he towers before you.

"this is what you wanted, right? what you were begging for all night?"

your lips are spitty and drooling, and so is osamu's cock as he presses it against them. swollen and red, he watches the strings of spit weave and bow as he taps his tip against your puffy pout.

your heart skips a beat when he softly smacks his heavy tip against your cheek. "look at me, 'm talking to you," he coos condescendingly.

"yes," you gasp naturally, not even fully comprehending what he asked you.

he lets his shaft rub messily against your wet chin and lips, taking pride in how dumb he has you when he hasn't even touched you, when his cock's been in your mouth for about a minute and a half total.

he hums to himself, satisfied with the sight. "that's what i thought."

his thumb swiping your bottom lip signals for you to open your mouth and you do so pliantly. he allows the pad of his finger to press down on your tongue, the rest of his large hand gently massaging your sore jaw from taking him in a few moments ago.

"touchin' me under the table like that," he scoffs to himself, but you hear him all the same, "that's no good, huh?"

he laughs when you go to say something to defend yourself, because the way he presses down on the flat of your tongue has you gagging instead of speaking.

he keeps going, rubbing your throat and cooing in a voice that makes you shiver.

"textin' me all that nasty stuff when anyone could've looked over my shoulder and read it? not nice, baby." he tuts in dissapointment.

slowly removing his thumb from your mouth, he lets you swallow and collect yourself enough to respond.

"i'm sorry," your voice wavers pathetically, "i just wanted your--"

"i know what you wanted," he coldly interrupts, but his actions contrast his words when he carefully lines his cock up with your mouth once more, softly caressing the sides of your head.

"so don't go cryin' about it now, honey. you said it yourself," he sweetly reminds you, bucking his hips so his tip just barely slips between your lips with each thrust, "you can take it."

he lets his movements lengthen, letting his eventually cock slip completely in your warm and waiting mouth as he groans and tosses his head back. he holds your head for a few seconds before retracting his hips and smiling at your panting.

"or are you just all talk? you like to run your mouth and not keep your word?"

he watches you try to shake your head, "no, no 'samu, i can--"

"oh, i know you can," he tells you.

movements repeat themselves until he's fucking your throat, pushing your head down onto him and using you in a way you're both addicted to.

"so do it," he grits through his teeth, hissing with every thrust, "fuckin' take it."

his cock head finds the familiar home of your throat and he relishes in the way you gag and scratch at this thick thighs.

"there we go," he tenses, legs shaking a bit at the feeling of your wet tears and warm mouth on him.

your head is spinning as you barely make out his words behind hisses and grunts. "yeah? you love it, baby?"

you moan, nodding along at his words, though you're not sure if its you bobbing your head in agreement or osamu coaxing you to.

"i know ya do," he whispers from his throat. "look so pretty like this."

you feel him getting closer between the tightening of his grasp on your hair and the stuttering of his hips. you're salivating, waiting to taste the heavy load you've been craving all night, the one that got you here on your knees in the first place.

osamu senses your eagerness, tongue licking his canine as he smiles.

"gonna take it all?" he prompts your excitement, "gonna swallow what i give you?"

you're nodding and gagging and gargling all the same, and when he does cum down your throat in heavy spurts of cream--you do swallow it all, just like he told you to.

never one to stray from his nasty need to taste you, osamu is kind enough you let you breathe for a moment when he pulls out of you, but can only wait so long before he's shoving his tongue in your mouth and tasting himself on you.

"see, baby?" he praises you, big hands kneading your ass and swallowing your moans.

"all that bitching and moaning when you could've be doing something so much better with that pretty mouth, huh?"

#osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu x you #osamu miya x you #osamu smut #osamu miya smut #osamu fic #osamu miya fic #haikyuu osamu #hq osamu

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blucassiopeia · 8 months

Note

i really love your Dangerous piece! that i started stalking you and your works. but can i request a piece about the song Rewrite the Stars like how you did to Vanilla Twilight?

i won't mind if it's connected to your fic/s or anything. ☺

🤩 love this! i have just the right plot!

warnings: angst angst angst, cheating, complicated Osamu, mentions of suicide and deaths, pining, may be boring for you butー🙈

wc: 1.6k

Ω.

"cake?"

you nodded at your husband as he reached out for that layer of cake at the middle of the round reception table. you don't think you can keep it down tho. your head's swimming right now, eyes unfocused and glossy. glad Atsumu's not talking about it, if ever he had noticed.

at the swarm of guests in the reception, your sight seemed to make a beeline to someone you never expected to marry. and he's staring back at you with wide wary eyes.

the whole scene was unexpected, the past week was full of bombs you never anticipated, he never anticipated. a shotgun wedding because of some overly reserved culture, a wedding to mask the shame he did infront of the bride's parents not even less a month ago.

you sighed, resigned at the ridiculous fate of your husband's twin and readily averted your gaze from him, already smiling at Atsumu and his new plate of cake.

"thanks, love."

four months passed by like a fork scraping on metal and one morning you found yourself naked and blanketed and alone on Osamu's marital bed. your head is throbbing so hard, breath labored as panic washed over you. within minutes, you were ready to leave their household. Atsumu and Osamu's wife are all you could think of at the moment.

then you saw her, carrying a supposed to be breakfast in bed, and awkwardly smiling at you.

"hi. you're up already. Osamu's just taking a bath." she squeaked.

your eyes glossed at the unexpected encounter with her, panic reaching to your brim. how could she be soー

"she won't tell Atsumu."

Osamu's arms wrapped around your hips, his chest flushed on your back as he softly gave your shoulder kisses. in front of his wife. you saw how she forlornly smiled as her eyes were glued on Osamu's arms around you.

"breakfast before she go, 'SaーOsamu."

"of course."

"no. i'm going home. thank you."

you forcefully squirmed away Osamu and stomped through their door, so sudden that he took a minute to process and he's out of their apartment on your heels, leaving his wife clutching her chest unbeknownst to both of you.

"let's stop this, 'Samu. please." you begged Osamu two nights after that incident with his wife.

"don't you love me anymore?"

oh god, i still do. i do.

"i don't."

"you were mine first."

"but he's my husband now. he's the one that i love now. and he's your twin, for god's sake Osamu. are you really out of your mind? can't you not see your wife hurting because of yourー"

"no. i'm not letting you go."

but to Osamu's horror, you snipped out all means of communications with him. it was hard because how it'll be possible if Atsumu and Osamu are on the same circle, on the same family. but you tried your hardest. and you have seen him getting restless.

and his wife giving you pleading glances.

why is she pleading you to cheat with her husband? when clearly, she's fucking hurting. she has consented, but you can't stomach it. Atsumu and she deserves so much better partners. and you'll be that better one for Atsumu. even if it'll kill you.

then came a day that all of that went 180°. Atsumu started to notice how Osamu and his longing gazes rest on you and your husband would linger his eyes on you on nights, full of question.

his question came past one night, "do you somehow want me to break this relationship up?"

to your horror, eyes wide, you sat up and took a good look at him before you whispered, "no. no Atsumu. why would you ask that?" you cupped his cheeks now wet with his rolling tears. it broke your heart to a certain degree. "why would you ask that?"

you came in terms with him after that night, but his relationship with his brother got dented. you blamed yourself as your attention was on Osamu and how he's treating his wife. he's getting worse everyday. how can he do that to her? is he really like that?

no. he's not like that. he's just like that because she's not you. Osamu's blaming her for everything bad happening to him, from his family to you.

god, what an asshole. and to think you love that asshole.

"you love Atsumu, huh?"

"with all my heart, Osamu. with all of my heart. so please."

"okay."

that sneaky afternoon, he walked out from you for the first time, and you let him. you have to let him.

that was hours before something horrifying happened.

his wife died, and she was pregnant. his wife died without him by her side. his wife died, never knowing how Osamu cried for her, how he's realizing he loves her.

"i regretted ever blinding myself because of my love for you that i didn't notice her. i regretted ever loving you. because of you, i lost them."

you smiled at him, Atsumu not far and listening, letting you take the wheel.

"no Osamu. you lost them because you were selfish and indifferent. keep that in mind."

and his words burned you and it'll always will, for times to come.

he was avoiding you for all the time you've been with his brother. does he remember? what was happening anyway? why's everything happening again?

no. not happening again.

so, you also avoided him with all your might.

acted like magnets with the same polar properties, repelling.

and you can't help but to watch him ruin everything for both him and his ex-wife, roping her new husband in the process.

you heard him muttered under his breath his apologies and his newfound motivation. and it broke you, because it's all for someone that's not you. and this is fine. this is fine.

ii.

it's different now.

he'sー

invigorated. to give his ex-wife the happiness she deserves. all along. and he'll continue to give her everything. until he's exhausted.

and he'll never be. you know it deep in your bones.

the way he looks at her while pretending to be her bestfriend? it's different from the way he looks at you.

so you close your eyes. you don't have to be a masochist.

iii.

how long has it been from when he last talked to you like how he did so long ago?

you can feel Atsumu's arms on your waist, his slow breathing as he slumbers. but your mind's not there. it's on some apartment far downtown, with Osamu crying because he can't bottle up his emotions anymore. his ex-wife is getting married again to her soulmate.

your heart wants to hug him, but it's not right. and he doesn't want you there.

i regretted ever loving you.

you swallowed hard.

iv.

again.

close your eyes.

yn be strong. you can get through this.

it's going to be okay.

he'll be okay.

focus on Atsumu.

vi.

you have seen him so devastated when his ex-wife committed suicide after the freakest incident these cycles had offered Osamu.

and you lost Atsumu, too.

you wanna run to him. but it's not too easy.

it'll waste everything he had worked for. for the love of his life.

six cycles ago, that was you.

when will this end?

vii.

something's different with him. he's.. hitting on you. and you hoped it was it.

but no.

he's trying to change the situations. trying new paths to get a new ending. but you're close to breaking.

"stop what you're doing, Osamu."

he was.. fuck. damn you, Osamu.

"not doing anything like that."

for over seven cycles, he's at it again. is he not afraid?

but there it was. even if it's just a glimmer, there's something else in his eyes. but Atsumu.. you can't sacrifice Atsumu.

you're afraid that he's just doing this for his love. and not for you.

of course. it's not for you. he has someone else now. and he's going through and against space and time to give everything to her. you're.. jealous. but she deserves all of it.

so close your eyes again, yn.

viii.

but when he tried his chance again on you, so early down the line, you gave in. but you didn't expect much. he's still inlove with her. he'll forever be. you smiled bitterly as you rode his train.

"i love you."

you teared up at how he said it, so sincere and believable. and you wanna believe him. you badly want to believe him. coz this was all you ever wanted. all you ever dreamt of, happening in front of your eyes.

"i love you too, 'Samu."

"i'm yours."

you laughed lightly. how could he say that? after this cycle, he'll have his happy ending with his forever love. after this, he'll come back to her like you never happened. and you'll go back to Atsumu, just like before. you just aren't meant to be, in any of these cycles. eventhough you longed for him for so long.

he maybe thought you were already asleep in his chest. he maybe thought that you'll never hear.

"i'm giving up on her. i'll take responsibility now. i have roped all of you to these crazy cycles and i'm sorry. i'm sorry for being selfish, yn. i pray there wont be any other cycle. i pray this would be the last. i'm done seeing you longing for me. i'm so sorry. i love you."

but you're not giving up on his happiness too.

so you wished for him instead.

α.

because this is what is supposed to be.

that only cycle is enough for you to survive. everything will keep you and Osamu apart anyway so you'll treasure that previous cycle with all of your heart. where you were on edge, but you're happy. because you are with him.

now, you just have to drink to the fact that it's not Osamu, in any universe. and you'll forever suffer from it, for as long as you'll remember.

and he'll never know.

"i love you, Osamu. be happy now."

you whispered infront of the shrine that started it all.

cassie 2023.

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quirrrky · 2 years

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GLIMPSE OF US 「FOUR」

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𐑂 5k words 𐑂 She's the only one he thought he’d ever loved—an important piece of his heart ingrained in his memory. She’s someone you could never be. Inspired by joji’s glimpse of us 𐑂 angst, hurt/comforttt???, mini-series

𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

His body's weight gave up weakly on the chair as his heavy breathing echoed throughout the emptiness of his dark shop. Osamu rested his head on the heels of his shaky hands while his face started to numb as he felt specks like little ants began crawling under his face. He was heaving. His head, spinning. He's a few inches close to claiming the love he failed to realize yet all he really wanted was to run away and be set free. He wanted his heart to stop feeling. He wanted to forget everything—the loneliness, hurt and guilt.

"Samu," he heard his brother's voice cut through the darkness and he felt like a wave of relief wash over him. A sliver of hope come through him yet he swallowed the pain away, just like he usually does.

"I'll prepare dinner now. You must be hungry." He weakly stood up, but his brother sat on the stool in front of him and placed a firm hand on his arm.

"Let's talk."

Osamu's eyes widened. Did Eri finally tell him? He nervously sat down, fearfully preparing himself for his brother's disgust and admonishment. Though it was normal for the two of them to fight, he knew that losing his brother would be something he would never survive from. He had his head low, fist clenched as his knuckles were now turning pale.

In his head, he was still his own self's greatest critique—endlessly blaming himself for everything and imprisoning himself again in a pit of agony.

It was his fault. His fault. His fault.

Despite his anxiety, he just wanted freedom from all of this and mustered all the courage he could get to speak out. "I'm sorry-"

"Traitor." Atsumu dropped and Osamu froze as his face paled up.

"Lemme exp-"

"Just layin' around here all day in bed 'cuz I'm sick made me feel so sad and empty. Then it hits me. What about you? You've always been with me until I left to train to get into a league." Atsumu paused and Osamu was left in a puzzle. "Samu...you're lonely all this time, aren't ya?"

What? Samu's eyes widened at his brother's unexpected response. Though confusion clouded him for a while, he still couldn't deny the hard truth in his brother's statement. It was lonely and empty ever since.

"We're 21 now, but since we're li'l kids, you always ride along with whatever I want." Atsumu continued. "The color of shirt we'd wear, the nicknames we'd name ourselves, the sports we'd play, the color we'd dye our hair; it's all 'cause it's what I want. Now, that I'm goin' after volleyball and you want other things, I went away and left you here all by yourself." Tsumu clenched his fist and frustratedly chuckled. "I never even cared to know what you like. Just what an awful brother would that make me."

It's not like that.... Osamu thought as it was his conscious decision to choose Atsumu and play along with him. Atsumu was like a beaming light and he'd always thought of himself as the moon who only absorbed that radiant energy. It was only through Atsumu could he get close to the feeling of liking something so badly, he's so passionate about it. He had been chasing that feeling that Atsumu's happiness became his and he forgot how it was to find happiness on his own.

"Hey...it's not your fault." The Osamu murmured which further enraged his brother.

"Just what the hell are you talkin' about huh! You sayin' it ain't my fault but I feel like shit y' know. All this time I feel terrible!" Atsumu banged his fists on the table.

"You're still sick! Just calm down it might get worse." Samu calmly reprimanded his brother.

"The hell, stop playin' the better twin! I feel like I'm such a horrible brother don'tcha know that? You're a traitor! Such a fuckin' traitor! Yer my twin yet you don't tell me nothin!" Atsumu took note of Samu's dark gray dye that now only remained on the inch-long tip of his hair, which added up to his guilt and frustration.

He grabbed Osamu's collar and yelled at his face. "You could've told me that you don't like to dye yer hair! You could've told me that yer better off cookin' than playin' volleyball sometimes! You could've told me when you like something regardless of what I'll feel about it!" He looked straight into Samu's eyes. "Dammit you piece of shit... I would understand! I could be a better brother too y'know. I would've been there with you, idiot."

Right there, in front of his brother's infuriated face, Samu figured out what he'd been doing wrong all this time. Atsumu needed not to say it. He knew he would be there, but he didn't think of that back then. He got so wrapped up with pessimism and drowned himself in his negative emotions. All along, he depended on the light Atsumu shone him and chose to remain in the shadow; isolating himself only to suffer alone and choosing loneliness when he could've communicated his own.

If only he had told Tsumu. If only he had told Eri.

If he had only told you.

Y/N...his heart fell at the realization of how much he had wronged you. You, who had been here all along with him regardless of how messed up he was.

Either way, he could've said something than run away from everything.

With a soft and sad gaze, Osamu meekly said, "I'm sorry." He prepared himself for a hard-punch as a wakeup call from his brother yet Atsumu instantly let go of him, flopping on his own seat instead.

Don't gimme that look, dummy.

It was Osamu who usually loses his cool first and lunges at him in physical retaliation, but right now he had those glassy eyes Atsumu seldom witnesses. Atsumu screamed into his hands, suppressing the stupid tears from forming. He may have a weak spot for certain people, but it was only Osamu who won the softest spot in him.

"Please, just stop it Samu." Atsumu complained. His tone now becoming gentler and a little bit sad as he continued, "Stop givin' up whatever you like because of me."

Stop givin' up whatever you like because of me? Did Atsumu think it was that easy? Giving up the first girl he loved for his brother's happiness, choosing to turn away during the time he needed a brother because she was always with him and enduring the part where he wanted to truly love someone, but it was very difficult because the emptiness of being left in the cold kept on haunting him.

It was never easy but Atsumu would never know unless he would tell him.

Maybe, this was the time...Maybe he could finally set himself free...

"Tsumu, I...about Er-" The microwave alarmed just at the time Osamu was about to come clean. "I'll get it." He said as he stood up and headed behind the counter, opening the light of his range hood.

"Hey, do ya remember our first onigiri when we're still kids?" Atsumu started as his voice lightly echoed across the empty room. "You picked up the tuna first, but there's only one left and the rest was fish roe."

Samu opened the microwave and picked up two pieces of onigiri Atsumu must've placed inside to be reheated. He could barely even recall that childhood memory, but he's surprised that Tsumu still could.

"You let go of the tuna because I liked it too. You settled for the fish roe to stop me from cryin'." Atsumu continued. "You could have the tuna too, Samu. If you told me you liked it too, I would have given it up for you. I would've given it up for you."

Silence embraced them as nothing reverberated except from the sound of the droplets coming out from the faucet, the hands of the clock ticking and the faint coo of the cicadas outside.

Samu didn't say anything further and went back to where they were seated. "Or we could ditch the tuna and eat fish roe together." He said as he placed the two pieces of reheated leftover fish roe onigiri on top of the table.

Atsumu just watched his brother sat in front of him as if he was in a deep contemplation. Osamu's expression was very wispy yet he looked like he sailed through the eye of the storm.

"Tsumu..." Samu started, finally regaining calmness and clarity, "It's about E-"

Atsumu shoved an onigiri into his mouth before he could even finish. "Let's just eat fish roe together."

A small smile appeared on Osamu's face. "I can make both of us tuna next time."

"Yeah, that's a lot better." Atsumu responded as they looked at each other with an uncanny understanding.

You laid down in your bed, staring at the ceiling. When you knew that you'd be having a seminar back in Tokyo, all the wounds you tried to keep hidden came into light again.

A few years ago, you had your dreams all in tact, but in a sweep of the rug, you left everything in Tokyo. Your life, your dreams and hopes. It all felt like you lost a huge chunk of yourself when your family transferred in Hyogo. Unfamiliar faces, places and feelings. You didn't seem to have a place to belong here until Osamu showed up in your life.

He showed you that happiness could still exist here even if you're just fleeting in uncertainty. He made you smile. He made you laugh again. He made you forget. In a way, he was an escape from the reality of your broken dreams that you lost who you truly were.

Memories of both of you flashed in your mind. The way he'd spin you behind the counter as you both danced, all the laughters and inside jokes you shared, the way he'd eat messily, the way his eyes would crinkle as he laughed and the moments he got angry because you scoured his newly bought non-stick pan.

You bitterly smiled to yourself as tears crawled down your cheeks.

How did everything come to this?

You found comfort in needing him and he found solace in being needed. It was a cycle fated to be broken at any given moment. You were like one and the same. Two lonely souls, searching for the kind of happiness that wouldn't fade overnight yet you could never be the one for him and he could never give you the entirety of himself no matter how hard he was trying to.

Is this all we could ever be? Is this all I could ever be?

Lately you'd been wondering if he ever looked at you and saw you for who you really are, if there's a time when it's just you and not someone else....But then again, all this time, you didn't even notice that he wasn't genuinely happy at all.

You wiped the tears on your cheeks. Perhaps, this is all for the best...

Despite the fear, you braced yourself to face this feeling. There's no more running now. You couldn't keep hurting each other any longer. Looking at the mirror, you tried to smile, but the sadness was still evident in your eyes.

Samu was usually free during this time in the weekends, so you decided to drop by Onigiri Miya to ask him out for a walk. Once you got near in front of the shop, you saw him laughing with his brother. You had never seen him this happy like his eyes had this rare worry-free expression. Somehow, you felt happy for him. You felt happy that Samu could be happy in a different way. Not wanting to interrupt the twins from their quality time, you decided to turn back.

"Y/N, wait!" Samu called after you as he approached your way.

"Oh, hi! Sa-Samu!" You were stunted for a while seeing that he cut his hair, trimming the remaining gray down. He looked like a brand new person, someone with a brighter outlook.

"Are ya busy today? Could we maybe go out for a walk?" He asked and you looked into his eyes and saw how clear they were. You didn't know what happened but you got a feeling...that you were both thinking of the same thing.

Along the way, you felt him hesitate to hold your hand. Somehow, he still did and looked at you with a smile, but his eyes bore a different kind of sadness, something you'd seen for the very first time.

You took a deep breath, tried to put on a happy face and tightened your hold into his hand, walking with every step felt like the last.

"Isn't this yer favorite dango shop?" He asked and you both stopped as he bought you one.

You took it and munched the three pieces all at once. He adoringly laughed and you just watched as his eyes crinkled. Your eyes remained on his features as if engraving every second in your memory.

"Is there...Is there somethin' wrong? Are ya alright?" He asked, voice laced with worry.

You shook your head. "No, nothing."

"Is it? Is it my hair?" He asked.

You dismissed. "Not really. It's cute."

Samu gazed at you with melancholic eyes as he ran his fingers through the side of your face. "Keep on eating well, okay?"

A sad smile appeared on your face as your eyes turned a little watery. "Take care of yourself too."

Having finished your food, he held your hand again as you walked down to the park where you first met. You strolled under the shade provided by the leaves, with specks of light just making to come through in between.

You stopped by where you met each other for the very first time, both of you remembering the the first time you saw each other.

It was just your 2nd week in Hyogo and it had been months since Tsumu left for Tokyo. There's an on-going festival yet you chose to settle alone in a bench and he's seated at the bench in front of you with a mouth full of takoyaki.

He looked at you and you did the same, catching each other's gazes. Then, you were surprised to see him as the owner of your favorite onigiri shop. He'd always let you off the bill until he started bringing you bento every morning, waiting in front of your gate.

"Are you happy?" You asked.

Samu glanced at you. "I remember asking it first."

You smiled, looking at the sky.

Am I happy? You asked yourself.

"I guess...I'm thankful." You turned to him with a genuine smile.

He returned your gaze with clarity in his eyes; far different from the hazy and gloomy look in them that you usually see. "I'm thankful too." And that's the most honest you two could have ever been.

You breathed down the tears forming in your eyes. "I'll be going to Tokyo tomorrow. I'm taking the morning train. I will stay there for good."

Osamu bit the inside of his cheek. He genuinely got into a relationship with you with hopes of starting anew, but what he didn't expect was the pain from the past would still haunt him and his feelings for Eri hadn't died down still.

"I see..." He exhaled, exasperatedly. "It's all my fault. I know."

"I would like to say yes, but you have enough guilt inside you already and I don't want to be added on the list."

His knuckles were now white as he couldn't stop getting angry at himself. He really wanted to to be with you, but Samu learned in a hard way that one couldn't just switch their feelings off no matter what they do.

Why couldn't one just forget a person and love someone else at command?

He tightened his hold on your hand. "Y/N..."

"I know. I know everything. It's about Eri, right?"

"God, I'm so terrible..." Samu cursed to himself and he shifted his attention back to you. "Did I... Did I hurt you?"

You just looked at him not wanting say a word, but he picked it up. Tears fell down his cheeks uncontrollably.

"Hey, don't be like that! You're making me cry too." You complained, trying to keep it all together until he pulled you in for a hug.

"I tried, Y/N. God knows, I 'm tryin'. I'm tryin' my best, but-" Why? Why does it have to be this way? "

"I know. I know you did, Samu." You said really knowing how much he's enduring but..."Love is not really love when you're only trying."

"If I could only teach my- this..." Samu pointed right on his chest. "This stupid shit, I would've chosen you, Y/N. Please believe me."

You smiled as it felt great to know, but..."But we can't, Samu and maybe we should just let it be and stop running away from it."

In your arms, he shed all the tears he kept inside from letting the first girl he loved slip away, parting ways with his brother and finally losing you. He wanted to say he loves you, but he knew that it would only be harder for you. He knew that he would just hurt you even more, especially when he was still not in a good place to mean and say those words.

"Seriously, you broke up with me in the very place we first met." He chuckled in the midst of crying.

"Aren't you planning to break up with me too?"

He sobbed further. "Just know it's because I'm a shitty person and you deserve so much better."

"I think we both got that established." You joked back and you both laughed while crying.

Pulling back, you took a good look at him. "Stop crying now. You've cried enough."

He tried to gather himself together. "Don't cry for me, okay? I don't deserve your tears. No guy ever does."

You nodded, drying your tears. "Just give it time, okay? And don't pick up any girl with a broken heart again."

You both laughed again through the pain.

Even if he didn't really think things would end like this.

"Thank you...Thank you for being a part of my life. Thank you for everything. I'm so thankful of you, Y/N" He wanted you to stay and be with him, but he knew he would be too selfish to do that. You're worthy to be with someone who loves you with all his heart that's why...

Even if the happiness came with ache.

"Me too, I'm so thankful of everything we shared, Samu." You're worthy to be with the one you truly love too that's why...

I'm setting you free.

And everything ended where it all began.

Evening came and Osamu was still up in his bed, confused on whether he did the right thing of letting you go or maybe he should've begged and tried to be better.

"So you chopped all the gray huh?" Atsumu said filling in the silence of their bedroom, and taking in his brother's shorter haircut and swept-away bangs. Samu had been withdrawn when he returned home. If he had guessed it right, it must've been because of...

"Really?" Samu returned.

"Yeah...looks good on ya." The older twin affirmed and added, "Which means it'll look good on me too!"

The two took a little pause as they both imagined Atsumu with the same cut.

"Nah, I'm gonna grow this out."

"I'm gonna cut mine like yours!"

The twins said at the same time and they both grinned, finally finding a way to meet in the middle despite taking different paths.

"How's Onigiri Miya?" Atsumu asked.

"Well, it's only around a year old, but it's goin' great."

Silence.

"By the way, I just signed up with MSBY and I'd stay in Tokyo most of the time now."

Osamu dryly gulped, flushing down any form of disappointment. "That's cool."

"I'm thinkin' that if I can make it big, I can take ya with me and you can expand the shop. It's just a thought, you don't have to if you don't wanna. But it's gonna be real awesome! In that way, I won't be leaving your emo ass here all by yourself all the time."

Osamu smiled. "Then you better work hard so we can make it."

Atsumu grinned. "Same goes for ya."

Silence.

"Hey 'Tsumu, if there's someone who can't score with such perfect sets, should he just drop out 'cause he's such a piece of shit." Osamu asked, thinking that this was the only way he could get his brother to relate.

Atsumu quirked up an eyebrow, quite taken aback by Samu's sudden interest in volleyball again. "Depends, but you better just drop out if you don't love the game as much. That's what you taught me, Samu."

Osamu would be lying if he said he got enough sleep that night. His head was still filled with concussion and a lot of unspoken truths, but he had to get things done.

He had the shop now and maybe he should shift his focus here. The shop's door slid open and he was about to tell that the shop was still close until he saw that it was Eri.

Clenching his jaw, he continued what was doing.

"Good morning," she greeted but received no response in return, which made her gulp in nervousness. "I made Atsumu a breakf-"

"I'm already making him one." Osamu replied without even looking. "What's that?" He reluctantly asked, thinking that it was bad to reject food.

"Oh, it's katsu-"

"Doc said he's not allowed to eat fried stuff. Better just leave it inside the fridge so he can eat that some other day."

"Oh..." Eri just stood still wondering about Samu's sudden distant behavior. "It's okay. You can have th-"

"You made that for Atsumu then it's for him." The sharp drop of his words made her flinch and her heart sink.

Bothered, she went behind the counter. "Samu, can we talk?"

He just continued rolling the rice and gave her no response nor a simple glance.

"What's the problem? Last time-" She continued.

"Last time was a mistake. There ain't gonna be like the last time for us."

"Then why're ya actin' like this? Can you, at least be-"

"Be what Eri?" Samu dropped whatever he's working with and began facing her way. "You were the one who decided to be in a relationship with my brother. Now, just focus on bein' his girlfriend." He went back to his chores again, trying his best keep calm and not fall through the rush of his emotions. "You just have to get used to this as long as you're datin' Tsumu."

"Then what's this? Why're you bein' so cold? Why're you mad at me?" Eri pleaded.

"Because you can't make up your mind!" He hissed as he placed an onigiri inside a bento box.

"What? So do you...Do you want me to make a choice?"

Osamu took a deep breath and answered. "No, I already made a choice." Samu curled his fists tightly. Stop givin' up whatever you like because of me. Atsumu's words rang loudly in his head as now maybe the right time to face the truth regardless of how bad he felt for feeling that way. "I love you, Eri. I still do."

At that moment, Osamu saw her eyes shone with hope. The kind of look he imagined she'd have way back then. "But that love is not enough for me to afford hurtin' my brother. I'm sorry." He turned his attention back to the bento he's making again. His fingers lightly trembled he picked up the vegetables. "Here, take this upstairs. Just continue takin' good care of Tsumu for me."

Eri stood frozen, disbelieving what he just heard. She lifelessly accepted the bento Samu gave her weakly went up the stairs for Atsumu.

Again, Samu chose his brother. This time he knew that his decision was final and he could no longer be with Eri knowing that he had hurt you and he'd hurt Atsumu because of her. He smiled though a tear fell across his cheek, which he immediately wiped. It hurts. And it was difficult to put on a brave face like that, but he must move forward. After all, this must've been something he had done from the start.

An image of you popped into his head. His heart felt like it dropped from his chest with how bittersweet everything was between you two. You'd always be his reminder to move forward. It's through you that he failed to recognize that the perfect thing was just right in front of him yet he took it for granted because he's too hung up on what went wrong.

His eyes widened, realizing that today was your departure date. He glanced up at the clock. There's just a few minutes left before he could catch up on you in the station.

"Oh, shit!" Hastily, he tied the wrap and grabbed the last bento he made for you. He picked up his bike and rushed to the train station, hoping he could make it in time.

He pedaled fast, probably in a speed Atsumu would be jealous of. He didn't know why he was panicking like this. It didn't matter. He just wanted to see you maybe for the last time again. He just wanted to let you know how special you were to him. Fuck! He was a very shitty person and you...you were an angel yet what did he do? He self-sabotaged your relationship. Shitty! He's just fuckin' shitty!

He left his bike not minding if he even parked it in the right way. He ran like crazy through the station. People were definitely looking at him. But who cares anymore!

He stopped, catching his breath. Right there, before the turnstile he saw you and he felt his heart lightened a little. "Y/N!"

You turned around to find Osamu and you couldn't help but smile as you saw him again. He ran towards you handing out a bento. "I made that for you. Just like always."

Tears triggered to pool at the edge of your eyes, but you just smiled it away. "Thank you."

"So...this is it, huh?" He said. His tone not wanting to let go.

"Yeah, this is it." You replied.

"Are ya comin' back to visit sometimes?" He asked, trying to prolong the moment.

"Maybe, maybe not. Let's see."

Samu placed his hands inside his pockets. "Take care then."

"You too." You said as you turned around, about to head away.

"Wait! Uh...." Samu called and you turned to face him again. "Make sure you eat in time, okay?"

"Okay," You nodded. "I guess I don't have to tell you that."

You both chuckled, nervously.

"I guess I should go now?" You said.

"Yeah, yeah, go on." He said, with a shaky voice.

"Bye bye," you said as you went pass through the turnstile, but Osamu stopped you by the shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He tightly wrapped his arms around you. "I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry."

You turned around again to face him for the nth time. "What are you apologizing for?"

"I knew I hurt you...a lot."

"Osamu, I-"

"Shh..shhh...please, just lemme.." He sobbed, cradling your face in between both of his hands. "Before you go, I just want you to know how much you mean to me. Though I already said the, I'll say it again and all over again...Thank you Y/N. Thank you for loving me even if I ain't really worth it."

"Samu..." You said with a nod as he dipped his head down with your foreheads touching.

"I'll miss the times you'll tackle me whenever I was so busy. Remember the cafe where you broke a cup, I guess I'll never go there again 'cause of ya." You both laughed as he held your hands with his thumb caressing over. "I'll miss it whenever you'll laugh at my jokes no matter how corny they were. I'll miss your reactions at my experiments. I'll miss you, Y/N. I'll miss you a lot. Even if I can't love you in the same way, I want you to know that you were really special to me."

You wiped your tears away. "I guess I have to take that platonically."

You both laughed through the sadness.

Samu blinked his tears away. He couldn't believe this was good bye. He would be lying if he'd say letting you go was easy, but he'd also be lying if he'd say he already moved on. Samu knew this very well that's why even though he's afraid to let you go, he knew he must.

"You deserve better. Better than me."

You smiled as you reached for his cheek. "You deserve to love again."

He swept away strands of your hair away from your face, scanning through your features with such a soft gaze then he curled your pinkies together, making a promise. "Please be happy."

Nodding in response, you sealed the promise. "You too, okay?"

Samu nodded as he held your gaze. Only this time, through his teary eyes, you clearly saw yourself and not someone else. If only you could both turn back the time. If only you could have met at a different time. If only, if only, if only...There were a lot of 'if only's', but you both knew so well, that it was these 'if only's' that broke you two apart.

The sound of the train approaching cut in between you two. Your linked fingers loosened as you turned your back and went inside the train. Looking back, you saw him waving you goodbye and you did the same. Both of you forcing a smile through the pain. The train doors closed and a tear smoothly slipped down your cheek.

Eventhough you played it cool a while ago, you were tempted to go back in his arms. You were tempted to give it another try. Your heart still ached, knowing that everything about the both of you were nothing but a piece of memory. The hurt felt like it's never going to end. It felt like it's never going to be the same anymore.

Looking outside seated alone, you cried in silence. The houses, structures and facades through the window were just a reminder of what you're leaving behind along with the future you imagined with him.

You glanced down at the bento he gave and opened the cloth. You smiled as you found a note he left with the three words that reminded you of your promise.

Please read A/N 🙏

𐑂 AN : again, the hardest chapter to write 🤡 and perhaps this is the real hardest chapter! so for the real note here, PLEASE NOTE OF THE TIMEFRAME IN THE STORY! And, there’s a lot of foreshadowing going on in here. I hope you read between the lines. It’s okay if you didn’t I just pray you didn’t get confused, but I doubt since y’all are smart 💗 Okay here’s a few hints: Samu’s hair and Tsumu’s status in MSBY are time identifiers. The first part between Atsumu and Osamu was very important. I guess this is where we unpack all of sad boi Samu’s baggage. If you see through it carefully it’s not just about Eri...also, the tuna and fish roe onigiri are metaphor 👀 I won’t say anything more than that. Next chapter is the last. I kept breaking your hearts but IDK if the next chapter will be able to fix it, I just think that this is how things should fall together... Thanks again! This is one heck of an author’s note 😩 but I’m such a shitty writer who’s fond of subtleties it’s not even cute 🥲

𐑂 TAGLIST : drop the ff emoji on my ask box to be added 😭

REBLOGS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED ♡ Please help me reach other viewers. Thank you so so much!

#✦ glimpse of us #osamu x reader #osamu angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #hq x reader #hq angst #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu angst #osamu fic #haikyuu fic #osamu x y/n #miya osamu x y/n #osamu imagine

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everythingiaskfor · 2 years

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His Hands

miya osamu x reader, post time skip.

1.2k words

completely inspired by Blegh’s song “His Hands” :)

no warnings.

you’ve been working for miya osamu for about a year now.

it all started when you needed a job to help with college expenses, you looked everywhere, got some interviews but no success, until you noticed the poster glued to the door of an onigiri shop on the way to your college campus. you sent in your application, got called for an interview. when the day came, you were nervous because you didn’t have any experience working in a restaurant, but they called you so you had a chance, right?

the interview went fine, and you were surprised that the very young looking man, miya osamu, who interviewed you, was the owner of the place and only a year older than you.. you got the job. you learned how everything worked pretty quickly, and your shifts got easier as time went by. during the night shifts it was usually only you and osamu. you got to know the other person who worked during the day, and experienced the lunchtime rush, and decided to never accept covering during lunch again.

for around a year you shared almost every night with osamu, running around trying to get everything done during the busier days, or just talking when the movement was weaker. the two of you created a code to make things easier on the busier days, not wasting time exchanging words. you got to know his twin, who would just show up and eat stuff like the place was his. he knew when you took your day off to go out with friends. you knew how he would act like he hated the days his friends from school would show up, and you knew that you could do most of the work so he could hangout with them. you got to know all about his volleyball career, and about the reputation the miya twins had. his friends told you stories of how he and atsumu would fight and makeup in less than an hour. you got to know about how mad atsumu was when osamu told him he wouldn’t pursue volleyball anymore.

you knew when he would leave earlier for a date. you knew how he would act when trying to impress a cute client and how to ruin the vibe, and you knew he was going to complain about how you ruined his chance with a possible future wife. he knew when a client was bothering you and how to get you out of those situations. he knew about the worst dates you’ve had and all of your failed attempts in love. you knew that even though he was looking for it, no one wanted to be in a relationship with a guy who worked 24/7, even if it was to achieve his dream.

he could see it on your face when you were upset about something, always saying that you could talk to him or take the day off. you could recognise the look on his face when he was starting to get discouraged when things got a little complicated. you knew how to say the right words to get him back on track, and you were the person he would happily share good news about the shop. after a year he wasn’t only your boss. you’re friends who happened to work together.

and it was in one of those calmer nights that you caught yourself staring at the kitchen, observing how his hands would carefully yet agilely cut the ingredients, how his posture was perfect even after 12 hours of work, how his arms would flex and his sleeves would tightly embrace his muscles. you shake off those thoughts when a customer comes in.

after some weeks, osamu found himself admiring the way you would talk to clients, with a big smile, always welcoming, but didn’t let anyone take advantage of how nice you were.

sometime after that, you two were the only people in the building, closing the shop. osamu had been on a date the previous day and you decided to ask him how it went. he was telling you about how his date was nice but did a bunch of annoying things. but all you could pay attention to was how he felt handcrafted just for you, and how you knew exactly the things he liked by now. but you change subjects, trying to put away those thoughts. it was late, so he gave you a ride home, and once again you found yourself staring at his hands, now on the steering wheel. but, in an inner fight with your own mind you start to think about how he was just out of your league, how you ruined every relationship you almost had, how he deserves someone better, how you had friends that would last longer, how they wouldn’t feel like monsters.

weeks passed and you would fall into that train of thought over and over, being unwanted, but wanting too much, feeding that idea but leaving yourself starving. that was until one night, in another of those casual late night conversations, you were side by side, doing whatever, you looked at him and he retributed the act, and the eye contact lasted a little bit too much for a conversation about nothing. and you realized that maybe you were falling, and maybe the tension was there because it wasn’t one sided.

he tried to keep away from you for a while, and you didn’t try hard to reach for him, at this point, both of you were just confused about where were you standing. but the tension kept building and building, and at some point there was just no escaping.

it was around midnight, on a sunday, a busy evening and you barely had time to rest, after the last customer leaves you head to the kitchen. you meet a tired osamu, putting away some stuff and you get to the sink to wash the dishes. some minutes go by and not a single word exchanged, not that they weren’t needed, but no one felt safe enough to do so.

“can you help me put these things back in place?” osamu breaks the silence. you nod and stand beside him, he gives you a pile of things and you got the storage room, you get to the small room, carefully putting everything in the places the were supposed to, and when turning around to leave he’s there, inches away from you, you look up to meet his gaze and you find him looking at you.

“sorry.” he says quietly, but not moving back or giving you a passage.

“it’s fine.” you answer, not moving either.

the silence is accompanied with prolonged eye contact. none of you dare looking away. your breath is getting shorter, a million thoughts per second. but you were caught up on him. suddenly you feel his hands moving up from beside him to cup your cheeks, and slowly leans and finally your lips touch. the kiss was tender, not rushed, but heated. it felt like you waited for it forever and you didn’t even know. you break the kiss, open your eyes. and you think about a million things to say nothing comes out.

“i hope i didn’t read the situation wrong.” he says, taking his hand from your face to the back of his neck.

“you didn’t. you have no idea how right you read it.” you answer.

after so long, he wasn’t just your boss anymore.

and you know you love him, and you might be in love with him.

#first time writing osamu hope it's good #hq osamu #miya osamu #osamu drabble #osamu headcanons #osamu fic #osamu fluff #miya osamu headcanons #miya osamu oneshot #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #osamu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #osamu x you

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sky-casino · 2 years

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Miya Osamu x Y/N: dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light

Hello~ it's been 3 years since I posted a piece of writing here omg 😳 Life got in the way and I didn't feel inspired most of the time, but I'm trying to get back into writing now 😊

My previous works were kpop-focused lol, but I'm not a fan anymore. In 2020, I got into anime again, so now, I'll instead write fics and drabbles featuring my favorite anime characters.

I'm still a lil rusty from my writing hiatus, but here's the first one, Miya Osamu from Haikyuu!! x Y/N!

Osamu was in college, taking up HRM and Entrepreneurship... yes he's double majoring 😂

You were his classmate in one of his electives: Food Writing.

He actually really liked you but he kept it a secret for a couple of reasons: (1) he intended to fully focus on studying because the final/ultimate requirement for his Entrepreneurship course is to build a business, restaurant in his case (2) he found you intimidating and honestly, a bit too good for him. You're pretty and popular among guys and he was not interested to join the competition. And so he secretly liked you and pined for you on the side lol.

Years later, he has launched Onigiri Miya and you're a food writer for a prestigious magazine.

You were tasked by your editor-in-chief to write about and interview a rising star in the culinary landscape. You instantly thought of Osamu.

You went for a surprise visit in Onigiri Miya, opting not to let him know beforehand because as a food writer, you must see the restaurant for what it really is in terms of food, management, customer service, etc.

Honestly, you and Osamu were not very close back in college. Of course, as classmates, you became friends and you also worked on several projects and homework. But he was shy when it came to you and you were just pretty chill, so you didn't actively approach him nor did you push him to talk to you more. But overall, you had good memories with each other.

And so your visit was not only for business but it was also a catch-up session.

You asked him everything about his restaurant and he asked you about your career as a food writer. Deep inside, he wanted to ask if you're single, but of course, he couldn't bring himself to do so.

"Work is hectic as fuck so I don't have time for relationships." You blurted out as one of your complaints about your job. There goes the answer to Osamu's question. He was shocked to know that you're single because you're smart, beautiful, and confident. The man was too stunned to speak 😂

"How about you? Does the founder and chef of Onigiri Miya have a girlfriend?" You teasingly asked him. Osamu blushed and pretended to be busy with his hands, cleaning some utensils that are already clean. "No. I'm too busy as well, like you." He mumbled and you chuckled. "Are you gonna include that in your article too?" He teased back which earned him a hearty laugh from you. "Nah. But I can, if you want to? Just a little fun fact about you. It will perhaps help too if you're looking for some romance.... Are you?" You asked. Osamu took some time to answer, focusing on cleaning the utensils with furrowed brows. "I'm sorry. I seem to have overstepped-". "Ah, no, it's fine." Osamu finally looked at you with an embarrassed smile. He was taking so long to answer because he was contemplating whether to say yes and hint to you that you're the one he wants, or to say no and insist that his busy schedule is his priority. He chose the latter.

After that first visit, you started to regularly dine in Onigiri Miya as a friend and customer even after the article was published. Osamu even made you VIP. You two got closer through these visits. Eventually, you started to realize your feelings for him and Osamu got more confident and determined to confess to you, of course with some help and annoying push from his twin, Atsumu.

It was just the two of you in his store, at around 11PM. The silence was deafening yet comforting, as you finish your beer and he sat in front of you after cleaning up. That's when he confessed and as confirmation that you accept his feelings, you simply went straight for a kiss without a word.

You became a couple and after some time, you realized that you prefer to help him with his food business instead of continuing being a food writer. You wanted to be by his side as he builds his empire, supporting him with everything you got. You told Osamu about this and while he was pleasantly surprised, he also made sure that this is what you really want to do and that you are not feeling some kind of pressure to do it. You quit your job as a food writer and became a full-time co-manager at Onigiri Miya. With this, Osamu was able to focus on cooking and engaging with his customers. You also helped with other tasks if needed or if you wanted to, such as serving the food/customer service, marketing, and even as the cashier in rare cases. Watching you do all of these filled Osamu's heart with warmth and so much love that it felt like bursting.

After closing time and everyone has left, you two spend some time with just each other, and you really treasure it because you spend most of the hours of the day with lots of other people. And while winding down and finishing up cleaning, Osamu plays some music and you guys dance around the kitchen in the refrigerator light. Sometimes when you still have energy, Osamu teaches you how to make random dishes. It's not for the restaurant, it's just for fun. Watching you help him with his business and spending time with you as he teaches you how to cook made him realize one thing: he wanted to marry you.

He told Atsumu that once his second Onigiri Miya branch opens and achieves a stable status, he would propose to you. And he did. After one year, you held a small garden wedding and after a few more years, you were blessed with baby twin boys and the third Onigiri Miya branch.

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osakunt · 2 years

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Y tu te vas - Los Primos De Durango

Translation - And you leave - the song touches base on how his partner leaves. Never did he imagine life without her. He questions himself if he has failed her or if she simply got tired and threw him aside for neglect. Not knowing where the words and love she swore to him have gone - she has now left him losing himself.

The tan line on his wedding finger is all that’s left.

The wedding band that once adorned it - now on the dining table. The shine of it reflects as the recess lighting of the house hits it.

In front of him - the house that has so many memories holding onto it. From you two taking the tour of it to moving in to even the two of you racing up the stairs.

The memories were there. The love wasn’t anymore. Things change as time passes. Never did he think this would happen, yet it’s happening while he blinks away the tears.

The crystal tears he never wanted you to shed when he brought up the conversation about splitting up. The fragile tears break their form when they touched the surface they landed on

Silence wasn’t an answer like you hoped; when you asked him for his why. He had his answer - the heart never wants to hear those words. Words that makes someone feel so unwanted, unloved in a split second.

“ ‘m just not in love with ya anymore”

The words stung. How couldn’t they ? The person you grew to love - had now fallen out of love. It happens. Falling out of love is a thing. You just didn’t expect for it to happen to you.

“Am I not enough ?” his mind has replayed your conversation over and over.

He responded to your question with a frank and simple answer.

“Ya are and always have been. I love you and always will. I’m the one who no longer wants to be around”

It didn’t make sense to you. Even right now that you’re standing in front of him as he walks out with his things.

Leaving his key in the key holder on the wall, he looks back one last time before he closed the door.

“Mrs.Miya, I’m letting you fly. You’re no longer bound to me. No longer do you have to use the last name that has now brought you pain. Two amazing children is what we share now. Never doubt me in being in their lives. I’ll always be there. Doesn’t matter if we’re together or not - I’ll be there. You’ve always have been my rock. Thank you for letting me ever be a part of your life. I’m sorry that I have to put you through all of this - it’s hard for me to even understand what going on. One day you love someone and the other you don’t. I meant every last word when we were together. Please stop by the shop when you feel like it. I’ll be expecting your arrival.”

The folded paper read his last few words on his departure.

You found it in your night stand - the last thing he ever gave you. It’s hard to see it. Osamu Miya - the teen boy who fought his brother over spilling his secret to you. Osamu’s secret of crushing on you. Osamu Miya, the man who took you to your favorite spot and proposed to you. Osamu miya the man who you consoled late at night when things became difficult.

Osamu who was now to become your ex-husband

#haikyuu osamu miya #osamu fic #osamu angst #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #miya twins x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu #hq osamu #inarizaki x reader

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a-kaash-me-outside · 11 months

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a bit dirty - ch4

in which you hook up with osamu in a club bathroom and that's just the beginning. prev | ch4 | next [masterlist]

// not the worst idea ~ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 9245 ᴡᴏʀᴅs (ooo, long chapter yw)

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni nsfw, more bathroom fucking, casual osamu, meeting friends!~ ah! names names names pet names a million pet names, slight slowburn? like they fuck but-, this is the angst chapter, it's very small angst tho, fixes itself in the same chapter ily, developing feelings fr, afab she/her pronouns

join my taglist here!! ~~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

the chime of the entrance bell rings as osamu pushes open the front door, two brown bags of groceries in each arm as he greets you with, “can’t believe you’re here before me.”

“morning to you too,” you tease, rushing around the bar to meet him and take a bag or two from him.

“thanks,” he says as your fingers brush up against his forearm and your heart thumps a little too loud given that you literally just took groceries from him, but you’d argue that it’s not just the groceries, it’s the tone of his voice and his grateful look and the way that you swear his arm moves with your touch just to feel it a little longer.

“course,” you reply, walking back into the kitchen, osamu right behind you, and setting the bags down on the stainless steel countertop. you start pulling things out of the bag, vegetables and sauces and kitchen staples, and he starts putting them away in their respective pantry.

“thanks for closing for me last night,” he says as he walks back over to the central table where you’re placing all of the ingredients.

“no worries,” you say, shaking your head, “that’s why you taught me,” you reason.

“that’s true,” he replies.

you empty the last of the bags, folding them neatly and placing them in the cupboard. “how was your brother’s anyway?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“really fun,” osamu nods, mulling over something in his head as he continues, “it was nice to just chill on a saturday night for once.”

“i bet,” you smile, “bet you’re glad that I offered to learn to close, huh?”

“definitely glad that i trust someone else enough to close for me, yea,” he says, slightly altering the phrase for the better.

you’ve only been closing for a handful of months now, were taught a couple of weeks after you returned from the catering event, a couple of weeks after you had sex with osamu for the third time, but on the fucking clock. meaning, it has been a handful of months and some odd weeks since you’ve mentioned anything about yours and osamu’s relationship and what the fuck the two of you are doing or not doing.

you’d think that not mentioning a boundary might be better, easier to navigate if no one has explicitly told the other that it shouldn’t be happening, but the truth is that it’s actually much more difficult. neither of you are sure where the other stands, what their feelings are on the matter, and that fact has led to a standstill.

not for your job, of course. your job has never been better. you’re still learning every day, you and osamu are still working really well together on the shifts where you’re a team of two, you’re happily taking on more responsibilities and osamu is happily trusting you with them, you trust each other.

but the scope of your relationship, since you knew who he was, of the trust and the easy conversations, has only ever been within the boundaries of work, until he mentions, “you should come next time.”

“what? to your brother’s party?” you ask, and you’re sure you sound as in disbelief as you feel.

“it’s not really like a party,” he says, “there aren’t enough people there for it to be like a party. it’s more like just a small hang out.”

how is that better comes out more like, “then who’ll close for you?”

“we’ll just throw everything in a paper bag and deal with it the morning after,” he explains, because he’s thought about asking you and the intricacies of you saying yes before the words left his mouth, “‘ve done it plenty of times before.” you don’t answer right away, mulling over the ramifications of accompanying him to an event like this.

“if you don’t want to,” he says, and you recognize that hesitancy, the embarrassment, like he’s made a mistake by putting himself out there, by trying to progress your relationship and navigate this really weird time where the two of you don’t know what the other wants.

“no!” you say, abruptly, maybe a bit too loud, “i do! i absolutely do.”

“are ya sure? i know sumu’s a lot, but he won’t be the only one there, sakusa’ll be there and our friend, suna. they’re way more chill. not sure we could all take it if we had someone else in our group like sumu,” osamu explains and excuses all at the same time, slightly rambling, but you’re looking at him like he’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

there’s no mention of aran or any other coworker you know and it’s just nailing in how much of a non-work event this is, no social safety net to catch you or to lean back on. osamu will be the only one you really know there. he looks at you, patient for an answer.

you’ve already made up your mind, know exactly the response you’re going to give, but he just makes it even easier as he says, “i won’t leave your side, swear.”

you laugh, head falling from your spine, goofy smile, you’re sure, on your face as you nod, “then i’d be stupid not to, huh?”

/\ /\ /\

true to his word, the next time that atsumu has a small hang out, osamu invites you. he plans it all out too, schedules the two of you to work together that night, takes responsibility of driving you there and getting you home safely, double checks that you actually want to go, gives you plenty of time and a lot of grace to back out, but you don’t.

the night of the small hang out, osamu is ready to leave onigiri miya promptly at 9pm. the checks are punched, the money is counted, and the receipts are safely stuffed in a bag for you to sort out tomorrow when you open. you change into more casual, less work uniform clothes in the bathroom, grab the bag of onigiris that osamu has packed for sakusa and suna, and then you head out.

“so which one of these friends is the one that was with you and atsumu at the club that night?” you ask as you wait for him to lock the front door. translation: which of these guys knows that we had sex in a dirty club bathroom?

“omi was there with sumu and i that night, but we’re all really close,” osamu answers, walking down the street towards his parked car. translation: they both know that we had sex in a dirty club bathroom.

“how do you know them anyway?” you ask before offering a small thank you to osamu opening the passenger side door for you.

“omi started as sumu’s friend, really, but then the two became inseparable, and sumu and i are practically inseparable, so, y’know,” osamu answers, “and then suna and i have been friends since high school. honestly, been the four of us for a really long time.”

“well, i’m excited to meet them,” you say very truthfully, “especially if you say that they’re more chill than atsumu,” you add, even more truthfully.

osamu laughs, “definitely,” he says, “they’ll love ya.”

the warmth rises to your cheeks, sweat to your palms, and you shift in your seat, turn your body slightly to face him just a touch more, to see the comfort in his features and the softness in his eyes. your heart a subtle drum, echoing in your ribcage, and as your fingers crawl against the center console, creep towards his resting forearm, the rumble roars reverberant.

the tips of your fingers brush against his wrist and it’s like he’s expecting it, arm overturning, thumb brushing against your palm before threading his fingers with yours like that’s where they’re meant to be. it’s without explanation and void of any reluctance or questioning, reciprocated and assured.

and you really wish you could make better sense of this.

/\ /\ /\

you assume that atsumu will answer the door given that it’s his place, but your assumption is wrong. when osamu knocks on the door, it takes only a few seconds for someone, you deduce suna, to answer it. he throws open the door, greets osamu with a wave and then you with nod. “yo,” he says, and then holds the door open for the two of you to step inside.

“suna,” osamu says, gesturing towards you, “this is yn.” it’s almost weird for your name to come out of his mouth. he doesn’t say it very often. sure, he does say it, but he doesn’t use it to get your attention and when he does refer to you, it’s not usually in front of you, so you don’t normally hear it.

“nice to meetcha,” suna says, awkward smile and even more awkward body language as he steps further into atsumu’s apartment. “you work at the restaurant?” he asks, and you know that he knows the answer to that question, but he’s just trying to make polite conversation, and you do appreciate it. you nod. “cool cool,” he nods back.

you already feel like you’re failing at socializing, that osamu is regretting inviting you in the first place, but then he starts talking, conversation directed towards you. “yea, the other day at work, this weird ass guy came in and was practically hitting on you while he was ordering,” he says, practically starting a story, and it works.

“oh my gosh, yea,” you say, nodding as you follow suna into the living room, “he was ordering different dishes, but changing words in the titles to, like, make them pick up lines?”

suna laughs, furrowing his eyebrows, “how does that even work?”

“well, that’s what i was thinking, right,” you say, “but he was really creative, i don’t even remember what he was saying, all i remember was that my first thought wasn’t even oh this is weird, it was how long has he been thinking of this or is he a genius?”

“well, what happened?” suna asks.

“i basically called samu over pretending to be confused about what he was ordering because i really wanted him to hear what-,” you say and as you’re explaining, suna walks into the kitchen.

“keep going, i’m listening,” he calls out.

“oh, yeah, so, samu came over and the guy just starts talking completely normal again and i even tried to call him out on it, like, repeated one of what he said before back to him and-,” you say as suna returns, three beers impressively held in one hand, one in another, reaching out and offering it to you. “thanks, -and he just looked at me like i was the weird one.”

suna passes one of the remaining beers to osamu and sets another next to sakusa who is sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone. “that’s insane,” he says, shaking his head, “so weird.”

“really weird,” you agree.

“i always feel like there’s weird shit happenin’ over there at oni-,” suna says, but is cut off.

“hey! the star employee,” atsumu calls out as he enters into the living room and the loudness of his voice and the forwardness of his statement is unintentionally making you feel small very quickly.

osamu rests his hand on your lower back, a silent signifier of the promise he made to you in the restaurant when he asked you to come, that he won’t leave your side.

“hey atsumu,” you say, only attention given to his comment a small laugh at the end of his name, “thanks for having me.”

“i told samu that he should invite you over, hang out with you outside of work finally,” atsumu says, flopping onto the couch next to sakusa, arm flung around him, pressed up against his side, very in his space. “isn’t that right, omi?”

“the only good piece of advice i think you’ve ever given,” sakusa says, deadpanned, but the corners of his lips curl upwards when suna chokes on his drink and throws a thumbs up his way.

“that’s a point for kiyoomi,” suna calls out, “if we’re all keeping score at home, that’s kiyoomi 162 and atsumu 1.”

atsumu sits forward, “that’s because you guys never give me well deserved points. what about the other night when i said that really funny thing and then i was like see that’s point worthy? and then you guys said-”

“not if ya ask for it,” osamu says, “that’s the most basic rule and has cost ya so many points, but ya still keep askin’ for em.”

“if he doesn’t ask for em, how’ll you guys know when he’s being funny?” you joke and the instant that it leaves your mouth, you’re so worried that it won’t land or that it’s too mean, but sakusa chuckles and suna laughs even louder than before and osamu smiles proudly.

“that’s a point, that’s gotta be a point,” suna says, nodding, head looking back from sakusa to osamu. sakusa nods shortly and that’s enough for suna to laugh even harder. “tsumu, you’re tied for second, but she’s gonna surpass you before the night’s over i bet.”

osamu nods over to the couch as atsumu starts yelling at suna. he walks over with you and sits down next to you, arm draped over the top of the couch, just barely ghosting over your shoulders, and all you want to do is lean your weight into his side, but instead you stay upright, rigid almost as you hold the bag of onigiris in your hands.

sakusa spots the bag as it drags on the floor, looks down at it and then raises his eyebrows at you. “you brought gifts?” he asks and you offer him the bag, leaning forward to hand it over. “thanks,” he offers, instantly rooting around to find his favorite and tearing it open.

“don’t get rice on the rug,” atsumu says, interrupting his argument with suna, clicking his tongue.

“fuck off,” sakusa answers, biting into the onigiri again.

“look, at least eat it over a plate,” atsumu complains, standing up and walking into the kitchen to grab a few small plates. he hands one to sakusa and another to suna, grabbing the bag from sakusa’s feet and throwing it to suna’s.

atsumu is starting to seem less and less scary.

/\ /\ /\

halfway through the night, atsumu is walking around picking up little pieces of trash and dishes that sakusa or suna have left, complaining loudly at every single one. “you guys are horrible guests, y’know that? ya’d think that i’d have ya over enough times and ya’d start cleaning up after yourself.”

sakusa and suna and osamu all ignore atsumu’s complaining while he’s in the living room, but the second that he disappears into the kitchen it’s more direct, “samu!!!!! come help me with the dishes,” atsumu yells.

“dumbass, it’s your party, you clean up,” osamu yells back.

“you always help me with the dishes,” atsumu whines.

he refuses to leave you alone. he made a promise. and you love having him here, sitting on the loveseat with you across from suna and omi, but they’re talking to you and they are, indeed, much calmer than atsumu, not that you thought he’d lie to you, and you’re enjoying your conversation a lot. “you go ahead,” you say, steady look thrown his way to prove how truthful you’re being and he hears it all loud and clear. he nods, smiling, leaving the three of you alone in the living room.

/\ /\ /\

a bit later in the night and the only two people in the living room are you and osamu, but there isn’t any space to show for it. you’re pressed up against each other, legs draped over his thighs, practically in his lap, pointing at the frames on atsumu’s walls and the photos inside of them and the stories behind them, finishing whatever number beer this is.

you don’t even really remember getting into this position. it was either gradual enough to not notice the shift little by little or the change felt so natural there wasn’t a before and after, only a now. your spine is pressed up against the arm rest, backs of your thighs resting on the upper tops of his, your hand resting on the grasp he has on your knee, and the way that you’re pressed together isn’t even the most intimate thing about the two of you right now.

because osamu has been telling you a story for the past twenty minutes about the first year that he opened onigiri miya. you knew the jist of it, the broad strokes, the big details. you knew numbers and dates and first recipes, but hearing about his soft open and how his regulars became regulars felt much more telling.

you didn’t know about his somewhat rocky start or the fear of taking out a loan to fund this dream of his or how terrified he is of failing to this day, but you do now.

when he tells you, his voice is steady, genuine, and his eyes are comforting and grateful, and everything about the way that he speaks lets you know for certain that he isn’t just telling this story to everybody. as he finishes, patches up all of the gaps in the story that he skipped over and any details that he might have missed, you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his bicep. you rest your head on his shoulder, tucking your feet underneath you, knees resting on the side of his thigh, and he exhales, kisses you softly on the top of your head and says, “thanks for listenin’, angel.”

you turn to look at him, to rest your palm against his cheek, to thank him for telling you, but you don’t get that far, startled by the loud yell in the kitchen.

“you’re fucking so dumb,” suna laughs, the metalic sound of keys jingling follows, gets louder and louder until sakusa and suna and atsumu all emerge to pass through the living room to the front door.

“idiot hosted a party and ran out of beer,” suna explains to the two of you as he pushes atsumu towards the front door, “we’re headed out for a refill. need anything?” you’re increasingly grateful that no one, not even atsumu, has made mention of how entangled the two of you are on the couch.

“are ya sure you’re okay to drive?” osamu asks, look thrown over his shoulder to atsumu.

“omi’s drivin’,” atsumu says, pressing an obnoxious kiss into the side of his cheek, “only had like 2 beers all night, first one was hours ago.”

“i’m cool,” sakusa says, nodding, and osamu doesn’t press a single second more, evidently trusting him.

“see ya in a bit,” atsumu calls out, back towards you, waving as the door is pulled open and suna and sakusa leave in front of him.

when the front door closes, despite the alcohol in your bloodstream clouding your thoughts a tiny bit, the realization hits both of you that you are alone, off work, not at work, and you both really love the way that the spots on your skin in contact with one another feel. you don’t say a word, let the silence settle in, too occupied with your own thoughts to try and formulate them into sentences, too worried about whatever might be going on in osamu’s head.

his touch pulls you out of it, a gentle finger coaxing you to look up in his direction, dull nails scraping against your jaw, thumb nudging your chin, and this is the first time that a moment like this isn’t brought on the forwardness of your words. you melt against his warmth, push your cheek into his palm, turn your head and kiss his thumb. there’s no timer counting down in your head, no rushing to get this moment over with in time, even though there maybe should be some urgency, you just want to be here, present.

he moves you slowly, but confidently, reaching over to guide you by your hips until you’re seated in his lap, one knee on either side of his thighs. this position is so new for the two of you, you on top, him looking up at you, the softness of cushions beneath you.

you wrap your hands around the back of his head, thread your fingers into his hair, pull down gently on the locks until his neck is completely stretched, lips are as close to you as they can be without you having to move. he looks so pretty, waiting, expectant, patient, needy. you like this position very much.

the slight pressure where your fists reside in his hair, this faint lost look in your eyes from having this tiny inkling of control, the weight of you in his lap, how your head tilts back as you pull his back, mirroring the motion you’re trying to achieve. you look so pretty, trying, out of your comfort zone, longing, restless. he likes this position even more.

he tugs you forward, shifts your balance, and you’re crashing into him, arm reaching out to brace yourself on the back of the loveseat, face inches from his. all he has to do to close the gap is sit up. your lips are soft, kiss is hard, and you shift your arms to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into you.

you feel like a teenager, kissing your crush on a living room sofa, giddy and sappy and smiling as he wraps his arms around your lower back to press you closer into him. you smooth your hands down his chest, his stomach, press your fingertips into the inside of his thighs, nails scratching against the fabric of his jeans.

“missed you a lot, samu,” you admit, forehead against his for a tiny breath break.

“and i missed ya even more, love,” he shoots back, one peck pressed into your lips and then another. “i don’t think i can wait this long to kiss ya again.”

you shake your head against his, “please, don’t.” you kiss him again, more passionate, breathless. you need him to feel how much you need this, how badly you need for him to not leave you alone for this long again. “promise me,” you mumble against your plea.

“promise,” he says, pulling away to look up into your eyes, “wasn’t plannin’ on it.” you claw your fingers into his thighs harder and osamu bucks his hips up into you at the touch, a soft groan leaving his chest, a knowing smile on his lips in response to your devilish one.

“we’re right by the front door,” osamu warns, leaning into the crook of your neck, kisses placed against soft skin, fingers molding around your hips, dipping down the back of your skirt.

“you’re strong,” you reason, half-joking, “you can fix that.”

one second you are on the couch and the next second, you are not. you are in osamu’s arms, tiny squeal as he lifts you effortlessly and walks with you down the hallway. when he pushes open a door with your back and sets you down, it’s not nearly as plush as you’re anticipating it being. you let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

“you really want to fuck in your brother’s bathroom?” you ask, curious, but impatient smile on your face.

“you really want to fuck in my brother’s bed?” he shoots back. osamu’s laugh tells you everything that you need to know, an easy nudge that just says, trust me, and you don’t have to walk down the hall and take a peek into atsumu’s bedroom or have osamu spell out all of the reasons that he thinks fucking in the guest bathroom is a better idea.

it’s clean, really clean actually. neatly decorated, virtually untouched. small, sure, but you and samu don’t need an ocean’s worth of space, the two of you could make do in a stall. the glass of the shower is residue-less and the white solo-standing sink across from it is practically sparkling. the window is slightly cracked and the carpet on the floor in the middle of the room is soft.

“yea,” you lean forward after a minute of surveying the area, hopping down off of the edge of the sink, “you’re right.” you rest your forearms on his shoulders, fingers clasped behind his neck, pulling him into you.

you can’t move osamu like he can move you, not even close. you pull on his neck, one hand on his shoulder, trying as best you can to wordlessly guide him into the position that you want him to be in, but he’s too engrossed in kissing you, in feeling your soft lips and tasting you. if the roles were reversed, you’d already be turned around right now, moved with strong hands in steady positions, but you’re struggling to silently communicate that you want him to be up against the sink right now.

“samu,” you whine against his lips, forehead pressed against his and now he’s kissing your pout, “lemme move you.”

oh my god, if he couldn’t have snapped right there, kissed you until you couldn’t breathe, fucked you until you couldn’t walk, given you everything in the entire world, every last grain of sand and drop of water, told you that he loved you or that he needed you or just that he wanted you to stick around forever. instead, he nods, can’t hide his smile as he moves in the soft direction of your pull, focuses on your gentle coaxing touch.

he moves until the pressure stops, your hands drifting down his chest and then his sides, palms digging into his hips, driving his lower back against the sink that you were just sitting on. osamu doesn’t ask any questions, isn’t the slightest bit curious as to why you’re moving him or what you have in store. he can see it in your eyes and your assured movements, the unfolding of desires and plans, and he’s very happy to just be along for the ride.

you’re slow to lower to your knees, even slower to place your fingers on his belt, ghosting touch skimming over the leather and against the cool metal buckle. osamu is filling in everything in his head, swallows harshly before a shaky exhale, “fuck.”

you look up at him with doe-like eyes, happy for once to be the one seeing the ruin in his lust-blown eyes and the anticipation on his face. “haven’t been able to get the feeling out of my head,” you say, eye contact steady as you pull his jeans down over his thighs, watch him watch you as you inch closer to his heavy cock, jaw falling open and his eyebrows furrowing in response. “of your cock on my tongue.” his response comes in whimpers and tensing forearms and a tighter grip on the edge of the sink.

fuck, he looks so pretty waiting like this, trusting you like this, hips pressing forward the slightest fraction just to get that much closer to your lips. his lips are slightly parted, bottom one moving with every unsteady exhale, a subtle blush in the highs of his cheeks. you can’t tear your eyes away from him, not as you take his drooling head into your mouth, slide the underside of his cock against your hot tongue.

“angel, fuck,” he grunts, “mouth’s so perfect.” he wants to touch you, to grab you by your hair and sink deeper into your mouth, but your hands are soft on his hips, fingers tucked up the hem of his shirt so he can feel your nails scraping against the skin, and you’re being so slow and so caring and savoring every drop of precome and twitch of his cock.

his knuckles are practically white, all restraint shown in the grip he has on the edge, because your mouth feels so warm and so wet and so good, but it feels even better knowing that you’re taking care of him in exactly the way you want.

you wrap your lips around his head, tongue laving over the slit and spongy tip, spit and precome gathering in your mouth, swallowing as you take more of him. your lips get tighter as you swallow, tongue slips against his length. it’s harder to focus the deeper you take him, the further his fat cock causes your jaw to open, the farther his thick head hits the back of your throat. moving your head back and forth on his throbbing cock, the image of him blurring as you move faster, but you’re determined to watch him unravel even heavier.

he’s leaving it completely up to you, the pace and the depth, and it’s so different for him to give up control and just let you do exactly what you want to him, but he misses the feeling of some part of you in his hands. it’s like you can read his mind, eyes flickering to his uneasy hands itching to feel something much more human underneath them. you slide your hands down his tense forearms, moving one to the side of your face and threading your fingers in the other. he doesn’t take advantage of this, this closeness to your mouth and your movements, only curls his dull nails against your warm skin.

you hum at the touch, vibration from your throat sending shivers up his spine, and if he watches you care for him so sweetly just another second longer he’s not going to be able to stop himself from coming down your throat.

“sweetheart,” he mumbles, low and whiney. you hear him, but you don’t want to, too enveloped in the heft on your tongue and the fullness of your throat and the familiar taste. he mumbles again, tapping two fingers gently against your cheek to get your attention, “bunny, hey.”

the air is cool compared to your encompassing mouth and tight throat, and osamu silently curses himself for saying anything at all. “hm?” you ask, side of your palm coming up to your bottom lip to wipe away the gathering sheen. he pulls you back up to your feet, hand strong on the back of your thigh as he presses you against him, heavy cock nudging into the fabric of the skirt between your legs.

his lips skim yours, not completely a kiss, as he speaks, “y’know what i can’t get out of my head, doll?” you shake your head, pleading eyes flickering to his lips, hanging onto every word, “how pretty you looked on top of me earlier.” the whimper this elicits from you drives osamu mad, large hand spanning your other cheek as he pulls you into a deep kiss, moving with you to the floor.

sitting with you in his lap, one knee bracketing either side of his hips, osamu is now very grateful for the stupidly expensive, surprisingly soft rug that he failed to convince his brother not to buy. the heel of the palm of your hand on his sternum drives him down to the floor, looking even more up at you now as you circle your hips, rubbing the thin cloth of your panties against his leaking exposed cock. “like this?” you ask, breathy and somewhat timid to be in control despite the fact that osamu was patient putty in your hands mere seconds ago.

he nods, hair messy against the rug beneath him, and you can only assume that another part of your slight discomfort is that, sure, you’ve had sex with osamu in bathrooms, more times than you should’ve to be honest, but you’ve never had sex with osamu lying on a bathroom floor, and for some reason, this feels even more filthy than any times before.

but osamu rests his hand on your thigh, pushes the fabric of your skirt up so that he can look down at the dark spot on your panties and the way they bunch and tighten as you slide your covered pussy against his throbbing length, bucks his hips up into you, lifting you off of the ground just enough to make you gasp, and yea, no, this feels incredibly right.

you brace yourself on his sternum, lift yourself up slightly to move your panties to the side, no patience or want to climb off of him and take your panties completely off, you want him inside of you right now. “could eat you out so good like this,” osamu says, eyes drifting up your body before settling on yours.

you shake your head. you want him inside of you right now. “next time,” you mutter, sinking down onto him slowly, inch by inch, and it just keeps fucking going. you tilt your head back, chin to the sky so that your moans have a better path to leave you. “samu, baby, fuck.”

when you’re finally seated completely on your cock, it’s like you can feel it in your stomach and in your throat, you’re so fucking full, he’s so fucking deep inside of you, you can barely fucking take it. you’re whimpering, tiny tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you babble, “fuck, i- you’re, mmm,” you shake your head, hand frantic to interlock with his as you circle your hips, not wanting to be without a single inch, “samu, fuck, so deep, you’re- i’m- i can’t- you’re so fucking deep inside of me, baby.”

he can barely take it either, so deep inside of your tight, clenching walls, completely surrounding him. every one of your tiny movements, every shift and circle and squirm, forces him to show restraint. he loves this view, this feeling, will continue to wait as you get adjusted and continue your fucked out babble no matter how badly he wants to flip you over and fuck you as hard as he can until you’re squirting all over the rug beneath you. “i know,” he chokes out, “i know, babygirl, i know.”

when you start to move, it’s nothing drastic, miniscule movements that don’t require much effort, pushing your hips forward, pulling them back, leaning towards osamu, tilting away. you can feel him move inside of you, but he stays this deep. all the while, you’re slurring nothing to him, tidbits of gratitude and cries of pet names, and if you’re this ruined already from this little, god he can’t wait until you’ve reduced yourself to tears, until he has to pick up the pieces and coax you through orgasm after orgasm.

he presses his fingertips into the fat of your hips, helping you along, picking you up a tiny bit more every time until you’re forced to follow the motion, pushing up onto your knees and letting yourself fall back down, skin clapping harshly against the tops of his thighs. you push his shirt up, desperate to feel the tiny prickles of sweat forming on his soft stomach and his heartbeat against your palm closer. every crash back down, a tiny exhale expelled from your lungs, out your quivering lips, so fucking cute.

“goin’ so slow, angel,” he says, not an objection or an issue, tone steady and in awe, practically an admiration. you nod at his words, barely any room in your head for them amidst the so full so full so deep so fucking full and deep and so full so deep inside hes so deep inside of me im so full of him.

your thighs are starting to shake, barely even breaking a sweat, but your core is tight and you can feel how sloppy you are around him and how all of your juices are dripping down his cock, can hear the sticky sound of slapping skin when you fall back onto him, and, “‘m so- gonna-,” you whine, “samu,” you whine louder, fat tears falling down your cheeks because you want more, need more, but you can barely even think straight, “please.”

he loves looking up at you, so pretty and needy, wouldn’t trade it for the world, so he’ll give you everything you want from down here. he drives his hips upwards, hands on your hips to move you against the weight of gravity as best he can. he’s barely even started fucking you when you tighten around him, flooding even more, soaking his cock, a throaty, “coming” matched with your eyes rolling back, fist forming around the fabric of his shirt.

you reach out, bracing yourself on the edge of the sink, other hand plastered against the glass of the shower door as bounce up and down on his cock. your movements are unpredictable, not as steady as his thrusts nor as rhythmic, but driven by instinct and whatever you think you need right now.

“wanna-,” osamu says, looking up at you, out of breath, pushing up the hem of your shirt to expose your stomach, “have to see your tits, pretty girl.”

your shirt is gone, bra undone, and as you continue moving yourself up and down on his cock, you realize this is the most undressed you’ve ever been fucking osamu. you’re not sure exactly how that makes you feel, but you figure you’ll have time to deal with the feelings later, because right now, osamu can’t keep his hands off you and you’re newly exposed skin.

he’s running his hands up your sides, hands groping your bouncing tits as they follow the quick, harsh movements that osamu is causing. his thumbs flick over your nipples, fingers dig into the fat, and he really can’t believe he’s never gotten to play with your tits before.

you can feel him everywhere, under the backs of your thighs and deep inside of you and over your chest and you’re coming again, clenching around him, grip tight around the sink as your thighs shake even harder, your movements weaker, slower, doll-like, as osamu fucks into you faster.

you’ve barely come down from your high before you’re ready to come again, thick cock splitting you open, hitting the deepest parts of you, filling you so perfectly. you’re so tight around him. you can feel every single throb, every strong pulse, and when osamu sits up, braces himself on his arm behind him, pulls your chest into his face with a gentle hand on your shoulder, you can’t help but cream all over his cock again, his name falling off of your tongue repeatedly.

he can’t fucking take it, how tight your walls are, how creamy you’re making his cock, how sticky the tops of his thighs are. “princess,” he says, a warning, “where do you want it?”

“on my-,” you breathe, you know exactly where you want it, “want it on my pussy.”

“fuck,” he says, shaky, “of course, baby, fuck.” he pushes forward further, creates a gap between the two of you as he leans you back, making sure that you’re able to brace yourself in the same way that he is before letting go of your lower back. he pulls out of you, thick cock resting on your sloppy pussy, hips bucking to slide the underside against your sensitive clit and soft skin.

he wraps his fist around his cock and you watch in awe, pupils wide as you stare down at his tight grip around his throbbing length, the way his thumb swipes over the head as he gets to the top. you reach forward, wrapping your own smaller hand around his cock. he’s so thick, so weighty in your hand, and every pump of his cock coaxes a throaty grunt out of osamu, eyes floating from place to place, on your cute hand around his fat cock, on your pretty tongue swiping over your bottom lip, on your bouncing tits as you stroke him faster.

if it hadn’t been so long since he’d fucked you last, he’d have forced himself to last all night, just to watch you jerk him off all night, until your arm got so tired that he had to take over for you and all you could do was watch or use your other hand, awkward movements and slower pace, but different grip to get used to.

another time, he thinks to himself as he thrusts up into your hand slightly, spilling over the side of your fist, thick load leaking out of the tip of his cock and onto your already messy pussy, creamy ropes landing on the insides of your thighs and on top of your pretty cunt and cute clit. you lean back, fingers still wrapped around his cock loosely as you use your other hand to smear his come between your legs, mixing his mess with yours before sticking your fingers into your mouth.

your fingers are barely out of your mouth as osamu kisses you, hard, so hard that he nearly knocks you backwards, sitting up onto his knees to angle your head up towards him. he wants to tell you so bad, wants to say fuck it to all the voices in his head and the fear in his bones and just admit it to you. the look in your eyes when you pull away doesn’t make it any easier.

but your hoarse voice and your giddy smile and your shy, “should probably clean up before they get back, huh?” pulls him out of it. he laughs, short and airy, presses another small peck into your lips because he can, and then helps you to your feet.

“maybe one day we’ll be able to, like, actually clean up with a shower or something instead of just,” you gesture to the toilet paper in his hand, “this everytime.”

osamu smiles, grabbing your shirt in the corner of the room and extending it to you. “maybe that one day could-”

you didn’t hear the key in the lock or the door open, but you do hear atsumu throw his shoes against the wall and very loudly call out, “we’re baaack.” you look at osamu because you’re not sure what to do, half dressed, still a mess, rug undealt with and very loud evidence of something happening in the guest bathroom.

“it’s so late, why are you being so loud,” suna retorts. you can hear the three sets of footsteps as they move in the opposite direction towards the living room.

“where are they?” sakusa asks, and now you can hear the footsteps spread out, all beginning to look in different areas of the apartment, bags set down on coffee tables, doors opened.

“how do we play this?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed, chewing on your lip thoughtfully, and osamu wants to just forget about making a smart plan and stay here and fuck you again instead or maybe just kiss you until everybody leaves or falls asleep. “samu,” you say, waving your hand in front of his face, “do you want your brother to know we had sex in his bathroom?”

no, no he most definitely does not. he shakes his head, thinking just as hard as you are on a good solution, on maybe sending you out first or walking out together quickly and hoping they don’t notice where you’ve come from or sneaking out of the window perhaps. you throw your shirt back on, straighten out your skirt, clean yourself up as best you can as osamu continues cycling through plans in his mind.

“they fuckin’ bolt?” suna asks, probably in the kitchen or atsumu’s room, you can’t quite place the footsteps.

“maybe a good night for samu,” atsumu jokes, and you can hear the pop of a can opening and a soft oof as he throws himself onto the couch, unbothered now by wherever the two of you have gone.

“fuck off, miya,” sakusa sighs. “probably just left because they didn’t want to be around you anymore. wish i fuckin’ could.”

“another point for omi, count it,” suna says.

“what?” atsumu laughs, breezing past the taunts thrown in his direction, “i’m just sayin’ it must be nice to have an employee fuck buddy.”

your heart is thumping louder, harsher. you feel trapped in more ways than one, deeper than just not knowing how you’ll leave or get home, but in your own mind. you’re not looking at osamu now, embarrassment spreading through your entire body, showing evident on your face and in your shrinking posture.

“you fucking serious?” suna asks, “you think they’re still…?”

“c’mon, he’s gone, fuck you think they went?” atsumu jokes, and you wish his words weren’t as firm or loud or correct.

“i never said that,” osamu says, quietly enough to not breach the barrier of the door, “i’ve never called you that, or said anything like that, i sw-.”

“i should probably go,” you say, not hearing or not listening to whatever osamu is saying right now. it didn’t really matter what osamu said or didn’t say, it’s the perception that you didn’t want skewed in the first place, and here it was, twisted and contorted and confirming your biggest fears about falling for osamu as you did.

“wait,” osamu says, hand reaching out to softly wrap around your wrist and as comforting as the touch is, as much as you want to melt into it or ask for more, you wriggle out of his grasp. “hey,” he says, softer now, just trying to get your attention. “how do you think you’re going to get home?” he asks.

“i’ll just get an uber or something, i don’t know,” your voice is shaky, weak, confused, hurt.

“no,” osamu says, taking a step closer to you, “no, you won’t. i’ll drive you back.” you shake your head. surviving an entire car ride with osamu after hearing whatever atsumu just said seems like an impossible feat.

you don’t want to leave, but you don’t want to stay here. you can’t listen to another word, don’t want them to continue speaking or hear what else atsumu thinks of you. you don’t want to face them, god, you don’t want to face them, but hearing the rest of this conversation seems somehow even worse. you turn, opening the door to the bathroom, face warm and palms sweating as you take a step out into the hallway.

osamu moves to grab your hand, to pull you back in, to just talk to you for a minute, but the second that you’re in the hallway, despite how badly you just wanted to quietly tiptoe to the front door undetected, you’re noticed. “shit,” suna says, under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to understand the gravity of the situation.

“thanks for having me,” you say, not looking at anyone, not directing the sentence towards anybody, shoes slipped on quickly, door opened quickly, and bounding down apartment stairs as you hear your name being called from behind you.

the commotion behind you starts, an “are you fucking kidding me?” muffled by the closed door, rushed footsteps down the hall, and then the noises of the apartment becoming louder as the door is opened once more. you’re outside by the time osamu calls your name again.

the instant breath of fresh air that fills your lungs is already calming your nerves, sending signals to your brain that it’s okay to start sobbing, the wind will dry your tears. you’re grateful that you don’t listen right away, that it takes a few seconds for your muscles to catch up with your thoughts, because the door flings open behind you, a huff of breaths following the sound of it closing, and jogging footsteps running to catch up with the distance you’ve created.

“wait,” osamu says, but you don’t stop, not sure you could even if you wanted to. you don’t know where you’re going or why you won’t just stop and talk to him, but you keep walking, one foot in front of the other down uneven pavement. “yn, wait, please,” he calls again, voice closer, projecting over urban noises and passing cars. when his fingers wrap around your wrist, the feeling of warmth and the beat of your pulse in his hand scream louder than anything you’ve heard tonight.

you turn around and the thoughts and signals have caught up with you, blurry vision amidst a lash line of tears, and you wait. you’re grateful for the distortion, for the unclear picture of osamu standing there, face solemn and unsure how to proceed, how not to lose you, and you can’t wait anymore, “fuck, samu, what are we? what is this?”

the words are tumbling out of you now, every worry and clouded judgement from the moment you walked through the doors of onigiri miya, “fucking one time in a club before i even worked there, that’s fine,” you shake your head, pulling your wrist out of his grasp softly, “fucking once at work after close, okay maybe less fine. fucking in a hotel bathroom in the middle of a catering shift? definitely crossing a line there.” you list off your endeavors, remembering them all perfectly well.

“now, we’ve just fucked in your brother’s bathroom, off the clock and not work related. and your brother referred to me as an employee fuck buddy,” you say, chest aching as the phrases leaves you, “i mean, am i? what is this?”

he doesn’t leave you waiting for an explanation, doesn’t speak over you, he’s kind and attentive like that. “i never called you that. i never said that about you, yn.”

“fuck, samu, it doesn’t matter,” you say, though you suppose it’s a slight lie. the weight on your shoulders and your chest is a bit lighter now, but not entirely gone, “that’s how they see me.”

“they don’t even know about any of those times after we knew each other, only the first time, only that first night,” he explains, but they’re not the right words. they’re soothing some anxieties in you, but not the right ones, but you don’t know which anxieties are the right ones.

you close your eyes or turn your head, it doesn’t really matter, you just can’t see him. it’s dark outside and you can’t focus on much despite there not being much to focus on, and your voice snags as you say, “if i wouldn’t have made a big deal about this,” you swallow, even softer now, “would we have left that bathroom and skated around the idea of fucking each other until something snapped?”

the tears have breached your lash line, have fallen down the inner corner, dripped off of your chin and onto your shirt below. “and what?” you laugh, “then we’d just repeat the cycle again? and then again? and i’d never be anything other than your employee fuck buddy, i mean fuck, samu, come on.” your voice is desperate now, cracking and confused, and he’s just standing there, patient and listening.

“it’s never been about how you view me or how you feel about me,” you shrug, back of your hand smearing tears and mascara against your cheekbones. “or it has, but just,” you groan, frustrated, “i know you care about me somewhat or in cyclical doses, i’ve never doubted that, i just want to know that even though you haven’t called me that, that’s not what you think of me too?”

“of course not,” osamu says, instant and assured. he reaches out again. you let him this time, cup the side of your face, wipe the few remaining tears, pull you closer to him, but not into him, there’s a difference. he just wants you to look at him. “i’m sorry,” he says, eyes darting around your face, not knowing where to land, “i didn’t mean to make it this difficult. i was trying to be respectful and do it right and-,” he takes a deep breath, “all i want is to be with you.”

he continues on, voice soft and thick, soothing all of the right anxieties, “i’ve been thinking about you nonstop since that night at the hotel and i swear to god if we stayed another night, i would’ve spent it with you in my bed, in my arms, but we left and i didn’t- we didn’t-” he takes another deep breath, talks softer now, a tiny scoff preceding his words, “it’d be easier if i could just kiss ya right now.”

you’re nodding because he’s right and because your shoulders feel light enough for you to do that now and because everything that he’s saying is the everything you want to hear, but that’s not the reason he’s saying it. “no one’s stopping you,” you breathe.

you don’t have to meet him halfway, he comes to you. presses his lips against yours, snakes his other hand up to the other side of your face and holds you still as he takes a step into you, body close, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you even closer if he can.

he pulls away, breathless and the question is already leaving his lips before they’re off yours, “can i take you out?”

your first instinct is to laugh, and you do, because you know his schedule and his next planned night off. “you? get a night off?” you scoff, shaking your head, “who are you going to have close for you? me?”

he laughs, huge grin accompanying it because it’s so easy when you’re around, “no, no, i’ll figure something out,” he breathes, shaking his head harder, “it doesn’t matter, all that matters is that you say yes and that i get to take you out on a date, a real date, and then we get to do real date things, and after date real date things.”

your laugh is louder now, lowering your head into his shoulder as you joke, “i don’t know if i can get the weekend off. my job’s pretty important to me.”

he kisses you again, absolutely beaming as he pulls away. “please just say yes so that i can start making plans.” when the joking fades and you’re standing there under shitty streetlight and nonexistent moonlight and you can see the seriousness in his kind eyes, you don’t want to keep fucking around, you just want to say yes.

you want to cross the boundary of hooking up and weird feelings and move forward to kissing at work and carpooling home together. you want to break this cycle and start new ones, ones with less confusion and more domesticity. you want definitions and declarations and dates and labels.

“alright, alright, yes, god,” you say, furrowing your eyebrows, waiting a beat before taking a breath and then his face into your hands to place a soft kiss onto his nose. “i would really love to go out with you finally.”

seconds pass and then minutes and osamu is just happy to be out here on the sidewalk with you in his arms kissing you every other second, and you’re just happy to finally be in a place where you don’t have to worry about the next time you get to kiss osamu again.

you’re the one that breaks the silence, a soft smile on your face unmatching the tone of your sentence, giggly and giddy and somehow just as needy. “can’t believe i’ll get to fuck you in a real bed.”

you’re expecting some form of scoff or laugh or half-joke or disbelief, but he grins at you, drags his lips against the side of your face, and says low in your ear, “i know, angel, can’t wait.”

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daebraeksan · 2 years

Text

Osamu comforts after you feel embarrassed in a social setting

Genre: comfort, fluff, pre-relationship/not established (romantic) relationship/ friendship,

Contents:

mental/emotional/social issues: social anxiety, self-critical, spiraling, embarrassment, shame,feeling wrong and bad, feeling undeserving, fearing other people's anger *anger never shown, fear of abandonment, thinking no one likes you, not believing when people like you, low self esteem, low self worth, people pleasing trait (not necessarily in action, but potentially in thought), scarcity mindset, not feeling like socializing needs are met,

Ability: walking is mentioned.. But i’m imaging commuting or traversing--any way that would get someone from point A to point B, does not have to be walking; and a hand is mentioned but like any kind of being able to pat someone on the head would work

Personality traits: reader does not like to cook: if you do like to cook, i imagine it would get both competitive and/or collaborative~ like arguing about who is the better cook but also like making fancy stuff together and having fun from that ; reader likes cooking as a social activity; if that stresses you out (i knew someone who got stressed by that) then like …. I imagine osamu would just love to cook for you just like everything arrives fully ready and you can just enjoy <3 or you can just watch him and hang out with him and not help while he cooks, but you’re there for company and moral support and to eat together afterwards <3 anyway;

Wc: 3585

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Wait, wait, wait, what?” Osamu asks.

The moment screeches to a halt. Your words peter out, while your brain tries to catch up with your mouth, and with the situation you have created.

Everyone was already looking at you because you were talking, but now, somehow—and this is going to sound crazy, but it’s true—they are looking at you harder.

You blink, your mouth dry and your throat scratchy. Everyone processes what you’ve said in deafening silence. Then Bokuto laughs and Suna says “damn.” An aggravatingly neutral response from the both of them—Bokuto laughs at everything, and Suna is painstakingly hard to read unless you really try—and even then, you still don’t trust yourself 100% in your assessments. In this case, you’re confused, and alarmed, too: Are you wrong or right? Are you going to be shunned forever, or is everything fine? You are mortified and you’re about to apologize, but everyone has already taken when you’ve said and run with it. You watch in silence and impending doom as they escalate the situation. You are witnessing a new inside joke being created. You could be proud—you had a hand in it! They can’t forget you now, can’t say this group of words, or mention anything even remotely related to this, without thinking of you, and this moment. You could be happy and how you are settling into your new friend group. But you’re not quite ready to let yourself off the hook yet. You’re embarrassed, mortified. How could you do this? You don’t know these people nearly well enough to be making jokes like that. (And it wasn't even on purpose—you said some random stuff on accident, and now you’re in this situation. You do not know these people nearly well enough for you to be letting yourself go off the cuff like this.)

The conversation goes on without you. But you don't always need to be speaking every second to be included in the group. Just because you are quiet, doesn’t mean they don’t accept you, or dislike you for that. You talk the right amount for you and that’s all that matters. And also they accept you for who you are anyway so you have nothing to worry about.

Some of the group is about to disperse for their next activity. Your plan is to linger for as long as any of them will let you. You have nowhere to be—where do you ever have to be?

The chairs next to you open up and Osamu moves to sit beside you.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you say back, barely holding back a giggle. What’s funny? Stop giggling about everything. G-d.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say.

He nudges your arm. “You look like you have seventeen frogs in your mouth.”

You pull a face at him. “Poetic,” you say, exaggerating your wince.

“Hm, okay,” Osamu says, (jokingly) bitter and biting. “I didn’t know I was appearing before the literary committee today. I am so sorry.”

“You need to come more prepared,” you say. “You can’t keep wasting our time like this.”

“Oh, man, sorry, I’ll do better next time.”

“See to it that you do.”

Osamu scoffs at you. You think he’s trying to peer into your soul, his grey eyes trying to pry open something in you, you don’t know. Jokes on him though, you don’t have a soul! Haha.

No, but seriously, you don’t want him looking too deeply. You don’t know what gross weird stuff he’s going to find and get weirded out by.

“What do you have planned next?” Osamu asks.

You shrug. “Nothing, really. What about you?”

“What a coincidence!” he says. “We both have scheduled nothing at the same time!”

“Yay!” you cheer.

He raises both of his hands for a double hi five. You experience all the anxiety of fucking up the hi fives and not having the coordination to deal with this and you get through the moment and try not to worry about how hard or soft you completed the hi five.

We have to move on.

“Do you like to cook?” he asks out of the blue.

“No,” you say.

He barks out a startled laugh and you get embarrassed at your curtness.

“Like,” you say, and then you let the babble flow out. “I mean I have to sustain myself somehow. But I don’t really enjoy it. But I like cooking with someone. I think it’s a fun social activity. I think I have fun cooking when it’s with someone. But I get stressed to cook for my own sustenance. It’s not fun. And I hate doing dishes.”

You’ve talked for way too long and you look over at home to see if he regrets asking you anything. He looks interested, but that can’t be right. But he’s still here somehow, hanging on. You admire his determination.

He nods at you. “I get that,” he says. “Doing dishes while cooking helps, but yeah, it’s definitely the worst part. Though, actually, I think doing dishes is relaxing sometimes.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely relaxing once I’m in the zone, but it’s agony before I start.”

“Y’know, I’m a pretty good cook,” he says.

“Oooh, really?”

“Yeah, what do you like? I can make it sometime.”

Fireworks of delight go off in your brain. Someone wants to hang out with you! You’re shook! Someone else trying to make future plans with you? So that they can see you again?

You’re sure it’s not that big of a deal. It’s a big deal to you, but he loves to cook. And seems really good at talking to people or at least does not seem to have a lick of anxiety. He’s used to this. This is normal for him.

That’s what you assume.

“Oh my g-d, thank you! That sounds awesome, I am honored.”

“Of course! So make sure you think about what you want, okay?”

You tell him you definitely will.

You hang out for a little bit longer until he makes a displeased face at his phone and then looks at you.

“So I actually I forgot I do have something to do today,” he says. “But I don’t even want to go.”

“Do you have to go?”

He sighed, and looked so sad and dejected. You wanted to run your hand through his hair or press your lips to the top of his head and comfort him. What is this engagement that is plaguing him? You don’t want them to suffer like this.

“It would be better if I go,” he said, sadly admitting defeat.

He trudges through getting ready to leave, and you offer to walk him.

“I should be walking you to your place,” he says, very disgruntled.

“You don’t have time for that,” you say.

“I should have planned it better,” he grumbles.

“This way we get to talk for longer,” you say, and then you have to clasp your hands together to physically restrain yourself from clapping your hand over your mouth. Because you can’t believe you just said that (out loud). You can’t let anyone know that you're not normal. You have to pretend that you are completely normal and have a normal amount of socialization and don’t have a scarcity mindset. How could you say this?

How could you let yourself go like this?

You are really off your game and you need to step it up.

A normal person who is not desperate at all.

Everything is fine.

Oh no.

You smile sweetly and laugh, trying to make it seem like it was a joke, or exaggeration, but still with genuine intent, since you do actually like him and you're not being sarcastic about liking him and wanting to be his friend. You don’t want to swing so far the other way that he retracts his dinner/hang out offer. You aren’t trying to end up alone.

It’s a hard balance to strike. The calculations don't always run smoothly, but you try your best.

While you damage control, you try to see if he is weirded out by what you said. He scratches the back of his head, with a fairly neutral expression, if not a little redness in his cheeks. But it’s hard to say. It could be the lighting. And you don’t know him all that well yet. You are still learning his quirks and stuff. But he doesn't seem completely caught off guard or upset or angry or grossed out, so….

“You want to hang out with me that much, huh?” he asks, and his words sound like they would be paired with a roasting tone, but he actually asks his question kind of softly and gently.

“Yes,” you say. “You’re so fun and I like hanging out with you.”

He looks at you with another unreadable (to you) expression. (You don’t want to read too much into it, because what do you know?) His eyebrows fly up and he coughs. “Oh,” he says. Now he seems to be caught off guard. “I feel the same way about you.”

“Yay!” you cheer. “And thanks for introducing me to your friends.”

“Of course! Thanks for wanting to meet them! Sorry they are so stupid and weird.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, I like them.”

He smiles wanly. “Really? I’m glad. Not more than me, though, I hope.”

You laugh, startled.

He looks at you for a second longer, and you freak out because was that a rhetorical quesiton or are you going to seem stupid for trying to answer it or was he really waiting for an answer or—

“I’m glad, because they can be a lot for some people.”

You nod. “They seem pretty cool and nice.”

“You must be amazing at handling crazy personalities.”

You look at his awed expression in shock. “I don’t know about that,” you say. You don’t know what you need to do to give him back his admiration because you don’t deserve it. He’s being a little dramatic. You did absolutely nothing.

“You were so good with them!” he exclaims.

“I was so nervous,” you argue. “I wanted them to like me.” And you wanted Osamu to like you, too, of course—but you keep that to yourself, because maybe you’ve said too much the exact right number of times today, and you should really try harder not to say too much for the rest of the day, lest you reach some imaginary limit that would make everyone hate you and never return to you ever again.

Osamu tilts his head at you. And now he’s really studying you. You scramble for a smokescreen because you weren’t joking, you really don't want him finding anything gross about you and not liking you anymore after that.

“Really?” he asks. “None of us could tell. I couldn't.”

You are shocked to hear that. As usual. But you're happy. You don’t want to be a faker… but you do have to fake to be normal. Otherwise if everyone knew every fucked up thing about you, you’d be alone. So you’re happy that you’re doing your job properly. But you're still surprised that it worked.

“Do you think I was too weird?” you asked.

“What do you mean?” He adjusts his backpack straps. “No weirder than them.”

You nod.

He leans in. “Did something happen? Did they make you uncomfortable?”

You look up at him. You really don’t want to bring up the incident because you want everyone to forget it. But. It’s hard to say.

Like—why even get into it, right? Life has moved on without you. You are still stuck in the discomfort and the catastrophizing, thinking they are mad at you, thinking they hate you, thinking that they are really grossed out by you. You are waiting for people to reveal that they were waiting for a reason to abandon you. It doesn’t compute to you that not everyone operates that way.

But no one else is thinking that. Allegedly. Right? It’s okay, everything is fine. These things happen. It’s honestly really funny, and you are going to recover from this.

“No,” you say. “It’s not really them. I’m just. Always nervous. I’m a mess.”

“Oh, no,” Osamu says softly, and you are a bit alarmed at his gaze on you. Like he cares so much. You kind of wanted him to (or expected him to?) laugh it off and be like “we’ve all been there” and move on, but instead he says, “is there anything I can do to help? Or any of us?”

“Oh, no, no, it’s nothing like that,” you say, and you think his face falls, but before you can double check if it was really disappointment on his face, his face rests at neutral again. “I don’t want to bother anyone. It’s my own problem. I’m so annoying.”

“I—we want you to be comfortable, you know?” he says, and his earnestness pierces your heart. “So let us know. They’re all crazy, but they’re all good guys, and I know them, and they would definitely want to know if there was anything they can do to help. And same goes for me—I’m here if you want to talk about anything or if you need me to say anything to one of them.”

You nod.

“So there was nothing specific that happened today?” His hand twitches like he is going to reach for something, but he lets it fall back to his side. “Also if you’re done talking about this, I don’t want to pry or be nosy so like, we can stop talking about it, if that’s better.”

You truly cannot get more surprised. He’s so kind and caring and considerate and you have no idea where this all came from. What did you do to deserve this kindness? Why is he inconveniencing himself for you? Now you’re second guessing yourself—do you want to talk about it? Is it safe and fine? “It’s just embarrassing. I’m so stupid.”

“You are definitely not stupid,” Osamu says. “Did you see those dumbasses in there?”

You’re about to protest and he cuts you off with, “if you were about to say they aren’t stupid, then you aren’t etiher.”

You nod. You look up at him, and he has a self-satisfied smirk, and you want to roast him for something to bring him down a peg, but you can’t think of anything because you’re also floating away on a cloud because you’re so happy, and you never want this conversation to end.

“Did I do anything embarrassing?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

Okay. So you can take him at face value or maybe he’s lying maliciously. (He’s definitely not lying maliciously.) Maybe he was lying with good intentions? That could be positive—he feels positively towards you, and doesn’t want you to feel sad about this particular thing. That could be good.

So where do we go from here? You know that realistically this is not a life or death situation. But you keep flashing back to it, even though everyone has moved on. You don’t know whether you can realistically call it a shame attack—but who’s going to judge you for what you call it inside your head? You don’t want to catastrophize but you also don't want to invalidate yourself. You want to feel better and you want this to go away, and you don’t know how to make that happen.

You are embarrassed.

And that is okay.

It wasn’t the best outcome to have occurred (although nothing really bad happened, either.) Everyone laughed and made a joke and moved on. Everyone seemed to be giving you grace, and assuming best intent, which is great. That is great! The benefit of the doubt? Not starting drama on purpose? This is incredible. Who knew people could behave like this?

There’s no non-awful way to ask this. You look at him, wondering how to warn him.

“I have another question,” you say.

“What’s up?”

“It’s very—” you catch his eye and deliver him a displeased expression. “I am actually worried about it. But like maybe it’s silly and fine, and if it (the situation) is fine, then it’s (my question) going to be asking for validation which is. I dunno.” Embarrassing, but do you need to go into that much detail? Isn’t enough enough? Haven’t you done enough? But you keep going. “But like if I am right, then like I really do need to know, I think. So I can apologize.”

Osamu genuinely looks so alarmed. You feel bad for causing drama. Why can’t you be calm and normal? “Whoa. What is going on?”

“Was anyone mad at me?”

He looks at you for a few seconds, apparently expecting more. He lets out a sigh. You’ve done it. You've ruined everything. He’s probably annoyed now. Maybe no one was mad before, but now you’ve done it.

“I don't think so.”

“Really?” you ask.

“Really, really,” he says. “I know those guys pretty well, and they all seemed at ease and happy and having fun.”

You nod.

Did that check out?

Yes, with your perception of reality. Honestly, the other person was pretty gracious about it and did not seem mad or uncomfortable at all. Everyone had moved on, and it’s ok for this to have happened. It’s ok to have had a funny story occur, and it’s okay to be memorable, because even if it was kind of in a “bad” way, it wasn’t in a way that would make any of them not want to hang out with you anymore. It’s ok to go out and interact with people and take that risk of something embarrassing happening. Bonding happens in a lot of ways! Sometimes it can be this—not exactly in your control, which is scary. But there’s no reason to always be “in control.” Bad things don’t “always” happen when you are “not” “in control.” There’s no need to always be the savior, or a therapist, or always helping people with their problems, or proving your worth by helping to solve problems. Or trying to be indispensable by being a problem-solver.

You're now realizing that you don’t think you’re a fun person. That’s the only reason why you would be so completely shocked and confused by people liking you even if you don’t solve problems for them. You don’t think you're a fun person, but maybe other people do. You don’t have to be right about everything. Right? And there can be differences in opinions. Just because you don’t think you’re fun but other people do think you’re fun, doesn’t mean either of you have to be wrong.

There’s no need to always trauma bond. Trauma will always be a part of you but it does not have to be all that you are. You can bond with other people based on other things.

You can be fun.

So, did “was anyone mad at me?” “no” check out? Yes, based on reality. No, based on you assume someone is always going to be mad at you, is mad at you, will be mad at you, etc. You always assume you are in imminent danger.

But maybe you aren’t this one time. Maybe it’s fine.

You and Osamu reached your destination a few minutes ago and you’ve been standing in front of the building. It’s truly been 🧍🧍.

“Um—” you hate to be this person because you never want a hang out to end, but you also don’t want to be an asshole and cause problems, so you have to ask, “Did I make you late?”

“It’s fine,” he says, waving his hand, as if dispersing your question in the air. “Do you have more you want to talk about?”

You shake your head. “I want to talk to you more, but it can be after your thing.”

He grins. “Okay. Are you sure?”

“Yeah! I'll be fine. You were a big help.”

“Okay! If you’re sure.”

You nod.

He sighs. “I’m glad to hear that. So I’ll text you later?”

“Yeah!” You beam at him. “Sounds good.”

“Okay. See you later?”

“See you later!”

He stands there, and stares at you still, even after you’ve said bye 23984 more times. He is not ready to leave. You turn away, thinking he’s going to enter the building, but he stays planted.

“What?” you ask, grinning and buzzing.

“Nothing,” he says. He turns around and enters the building, yanking open the door, and speedwalks down the hall.

You turn away for real, finally, and scroll through your phone, trying to pick out what music you want to listen to as you start your journey back to your residence.

While you’re tapping through your phone, you get a notification from Osamu.

#~#~#~

Osamu: did you think of what you want me to make for dinner yet?

#~#~#~

You have to laugh. You have to.

You text him back:

#~#~#~

You: When was I going to have time to think of that? Weren’t we both together until literally just now? You know what was on my mind this whole time

Osamu: okay well think of something

You: be patient

#~#~#~

You are happy for yet another positive social interaction for the books. You’re doing such a good job, and you can be proud of yourself, and you will continue to do a good job.

And plus, now that you can put this behind you, you can spend some time thinking about what you want Osamu to make you for dinner. (The possibilities are endless.) 💖🤍🖤

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missmeinyourbones · 11 months

Note

Osamu and #5 please? :)

NSFW 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

cw: IM SWEATING... afab!reader, soft dom osamu, fingering and clit play, teasing, this is the last piece of this lil game ty all for playing along :p

...

while his twin often gets hit with the annoying allegations, you know he's not alone in his nature. because, sure, they have their differences, but DNA is still a science, and osamu is just as insufferable as his brother.

"is it good when i touch you here?" he gently asks, though nothing about the power he holds over you right now could be described as gentle.

osamu has mastered the art of overpowering you with delicate dominance. never pushy or mean in the slightest, the mere sternness of his silky touches and coos always has you listening to him, one way or another.

he's strong, his grip on you remains soft but it's achingly there. with you pressed up against him with little to no effort, osamu doesn't need to be rough and harsh for you to be completely and utterly his.

he's not pleased when he's met with your silence, so he decides to be nice and try again.

"asked you somethin', sweetheart."

your back against his chest, his hand lightly holds your jaw in place with his palm. knees rubbing against the plush of the comforter, your ass grinds into his cock as you squirm in his grasp.

the gentle circles of his pointer finger on your throbbing clit are so simple, yet too much for you to handle already. he's barely begun and you're slipping beneath his grip like water in his hands.

"yes," you whine against his fingers in needy frustration.

osamu kisses his teeth at the half-assed response, disapprovingly but still amused. "use your words, say it like a big girl," he breathes against your neck.

his hands continue to snake around you, keeping you in place and reminding you that even with his sweet words and calloused fingers, you're still no match for him.

"does it feel good," he enunciates both his words and his actions when he presses a bit firmer on where you ache for release, "when i touch you here?"

back arching further against his body, he feels your thighs quake against his at the minuscule action. your head thrown further back into his shoulder, he gently lets his hand fall from your jaw to the base of your neck.

through gritted teeth, you tell him, "you know it does."

osamu laughs now, you feel the vibration of his chest against you when he kisses your temple to ease your frustration.

"ya flatter me, baby, but i'm no mind reader," he feigns innocence, though his finger pressing harder on your clit shows his true colors.

his touch is firm and achingly slow, calculated in his movements as he pulls each whimper and jolt from you with ease.

he's smiling like a bastard when he sweetly kisses up your neck, sucking and nipping on the tender spots and convincing you he's just doing what he's told.

his voice is condescendingly calm when he breathes, "if you don't speak up, how am i supposed to know if i should keep goin—"

"—yes!" your sigh of need, agony, you don't even know anymore, comes out breathy and high-pitched.

osamu feels you swallow beneath the palm of his hand when you take a breath and repeat with confidence," yes, feels really fucking good. so please, keep going."

at your confession, osamu makes a mental note to get a pretty ring on your finger as soon as he can.

"well, since ya asked so nicely," he coos in pride, finally rewarding you by slipping a finger between your folds and inside your eager hole.

#osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x you #osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu smut #osamu miya smut #osamu fic #osamu miya fic

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koukamisstuff · 2 years

Text

Taste of Love

Profiles

❗ MEMBERS ONLY❗- Y/N's Group

CoreMemories 🔮 - Osamu's Group

Masterlist - Next

Side Notes :

Yuna is the name picked for our Y/N in Ready to Love

Since this is a new SMAU when you read Y/N or Ynnie these are the names that will be used for our main character throughout Osamu's SMAU.

These events take place during the timeskip but not as recent as the lastest Haikyuu chapter. Remember time is set in its own for my SMAU but don't overthink too much please 😅

Everyone's career is taking off and we support all their success.

Rei has grown her hair and works at the local floral shop.

Yuna is running a small pastry shop near Kita's house as well as helps him with local contracts for his rice farm. They are married and I shall include sneak peeks at this later 😘

Y/N met Kuroo while she was in Korea (after college) where they worked together for a promotional project. Kenma was later introduced when he came to visit Kuroo. They've been friends for about 3 years.

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kyouka-supremacy · 25 days

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Good to know Chuuya is Dazai's personal rubber duck

#I'm sorry I was thinking about this the whole chapter #It's kinda cute to see this side of skk. It's like reading a domestic fic #osamu dazai #chūya nakahara #skk #soukoku #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd ch 114 #mine

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quirrrky · 2 years

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GLIMPSE OF US 「THREE」

『MASTERLIST』 « PREV • NXT »

𐑂 2.1k+ words 𐑂 She's the only one he thought he’d ever loved—an important piece of his heart ingrained in his memory. She’s someone you could never be. Inspired by joji’s glimpse of us 𐑂 angst, hurt/comforttt???, mini-series

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝...𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬

With his head high up in the sky and eyes glued at the stars, Samu tried to remember the day Atsumu left with Eri a few years ago yet it was all blacked out. He just knew that his life felt a little bit colder since that day. Now, everytime he looked in the night sky he didn't know why he felt like he was searching for something he couldn't exactly pin down.

Taking his mind off his reverie, was the ringing of his phone, which he immediately picked up. "Hello?"

"Samu..."

"Eri?" His eyes widened at the unexpected call. She sounded worried.

"It's Tsumu..."

By the sound of her tone, Samu instantly dropped the call and rushed towards his shop, completely anxious at what could've happened to Eri and his brother. He briskly opened the door, trying to maintain his composure. "What happened?"

"He kept calling your name." Eri answered as Osamu's eyes travelled to Atsumu and noticed the pain on his features. He sighed seeing how his brother weakly cried out of for his name. He placed the back of his hand on Atsumu's forehead, and found out that his brother's fever might be quite high.

"I can take it from here."

"Are ya sure?" Eri asked, worried.

Samu nodded in reply. "It's late now. You should be goin' home."

The girl heeded his advice and headed out of the door, bit before leaving he bade him good bye, "Thank you, Samu."

A glum smile formed on his face. "As always."

Osamu watched as Eri closed the door and immediately picked his brother up to carry him upstairs.

"Samuuuu...please don't let Kita-san know."

Osamu rolled his eyes at his twin's whining. "Don'tcha know how heavy you are? Yer more heavier than me."

"Samuuuu...."

"Why did'ya even eat that much?" Samu scolded yet he carefully let Tsumu take his bed. "There ya go."

Samu did a little stretch, wondering when did his brother get that buff? He could barely even handle him now. He started turning back to fetch a fever medicine, when his brother began asking with a serious tone, "Say, Samu...am I selfish?" Atsumu faced the wall and snuggled close to his blanket.

The younger one stopped on his tracks and looked over his brother with a puzzled look. "Yer just having delusions." There's a quiet pause and he knew Atsumu wouldn't rest until he answers the question properly. "Fine, yes. Yer selfish. You ate too much then got a stomach flu, leaving me to take care of you."

He began his way to the door when he felt a light push. He looked back and he saw Tsumu being stubborn. "The hell are you standing-"

"Go to bed! Go to bed and stop worryin' 'bout me, will ya?"

The younger Miya scrunched his face at his brother's forced diction and rolled his eyes again when Tsumu ended up fainting in his arms. Samu took a deep breath and brought his brother back to the bed again. He went downstairs to pick up an ice pack, which he then placed atop his Atsumu's forehead.

He looked at his brother, finally gaining some comfort. Samu seated on the floor beside the bed, recalling how, whenever Tsumu would got sick, he would call out for him all the time. He would do the same though, because they didn't want their mom and Kita-san to find out about it or they'd get scolded. In a sense, they were each other's partners-in-crime. As much as he's too embarrassed to admit, people were right. They were inseparable.

Am I selfish? He recalled Atsumu's question.

You went after your dream, moved out of our home and left. "Yes, yer selfish." Samu murmured and even though those words slipped out of him, a serene smile was clear on his face. Whoever saw that smile, would know that he hadn't smile like that since the past few years.

"Here, be careful. It's still hot." Samu handed you the bento he made.

"Thank you," you took it and gave him a smile. "Oh, by the way, I'll be having a seminar in Tokyo next week. I might be gone for a few days."

"I see. Can I come with you?" He asked.

You were taken aback. Next week would be the last week of Atsumu and Eri's vacation. "You want to come with me?"

"Yeah, I'd love to."

"Okay, sure." You told him, and checked on your watch. "I really have to go. I'll be late."

"Take care," Samu greeted. He was about to give you your usual goodbye forehead kiss, but you headed your way too fast. His phone inside his pocket vibrated again. It must be a missed call and it must be Tsumu.

Along the way home, he saw the bench where he'd usually sit when he liked to be alone. Eri would usually sit with him here and it took him back to the very first day they met. She always had that bright smile that matches the sun. He just couldn't say no to her. Even if it bothers him, he'd let her sit beside her. He remembered the very moment he realized his feelings for her. She fell asleep and her head fell on his shoulder. He remembered leaning against her and wishing she'd wake up and feel the same way for him.

Osamu gulped and exhaled in frustration. This was his life now. Everything was perfect. Everything was going fine. There's no point going back to the past. He couldn't afford to hurt you, especially Atsumu.

The day went by and he focused on working hard to get his mind off of unwanted thoughts. Afternoon came and Samu closed the shop early to buy some ingredients at the market. On his way back home, he came across Eri.

Her face instantly lit up upon seeing him and he couldn't help but feel the same towards her, but he tried shaking the feelings away. It was the smile she usually gave him every morning then before the class would start.

"Samu..." She beamed in the way he always remembers.

"Eri?"

"I'm on the way to your shop. I just bought Tsumu some of his favorite snacks." She said.

They walked in silence, both not knowing what to say or who should start the conversation first. It has been a year or two since they last talked and it wasn't really warm how they parted.

"Do you remember? We used to skip classes and hang out here." Eri broke the ice, reminiscing as they passed by the coffee shop.

Samu smiled fondly at the memory. "Yeah, Kita-san would be so mad at me for not attending practice."

She chuckled and so did he.

"We didn't even like the coffee here." Eri said and he couldn't help and got lost in her smile, her voice, and everything about her. It pained him that he misses her so much yet he shouldn't be feeling this way.

He turned his face away and forced to get his head together. "Yeah..."

"But we liked the place!" She added.

They laughed and instinctively gave each other a knowing look, but both immediately turned away after realizing what just happened. They took a deep inhale as another moment of silence cut in between them before Eri addressed, "Y/N...Tsumu said you bring her bento every morning." She started and he nodded as a response. "She's very lucky."

"Tsumu too." Samu replied. "He's very lucky to have you."

Another silence filled the air when one of their former teachers spotted them. "Eri, Samu?"

They just blinked at her and smiled as a form of greeting. "Gosh, are you two together?" The two just kept mum as their former teacher continued talking without a halt. "I've always rooted for you two to end up. I even remembered Samu rushing to the school dance just to get to ya even though he has fever that night."

Osamu's blood drained out from his face. This shouldn't be brought up anymore. Eri didn't have to know. He suddenly excised himself, forgetting about formalities. He walked briskly ahead of her and she quickly picked up on his change in demeanor.

"Samu! Samu!" She called out and ran to him. He stopped walking and she remained behind him. "Is it true? You went that night at the school dance to look for me?"

"Why does it matter if it's true?" He shot back.

"It matters!" She almost pleaded.

"Why?" His voice now raised as frustration finally got to him. "You're with Tsumu now and nothing's gonna change that."

"All this time..." Eri's voice started shaking as realization dawned to her and Samu knew just by looking at her. "How did we end up to this?" Her tears began falling with the question.

Samu took a deep breath and looked aimlessly at the ground. "I tried to make it that night. I was planning to confess to you, but I was late. I was relieved when I saw Tsumu took care of you for me, but I didn't get well for a week. When I was finally okay, Tsumu got home one day..." He smiled, a painful kind of smile. "He was so excited. Then he told me, 'There's this girl. She's real awesome! You know her. It's Eri! I really like her'."

"Samu..."

"When you reciprocated his confession, I really wished that was me, y'know." He laughed, shrugging off his own tears from forming.

"You avoided me out of the blue. You didn't even tell me why." Eri cried meekly.

Samu pinched close his eyes. "Because it's Atsumu." He answered.

He looked at her weary expression and he knew. He knew why everything still mattered to her, because all this time, no matter how hard he tried to deny, she still mattered to him too. But...

"You're already with him now. You're with my brother." He said, dismissively and reluctantly at the same time.

Deep in her eyes, he saw regrets, pain and guilt. He saw in her the same feeling he had all these years and that's when he knew.

"It's you, Samu...It has always been you." She said with a muted voice.

A glimpse of joy came through him, but it was instantly replaced by sadness.

"It's still you too, Eri." Samu whispered. They drew close to each other. He held her hand. She looked up at him. Their faces inched near to each other's. She closed her eyes and he closed his.

But he backed away. "I can't. I'm sorry."

Osamu turned away from her. "My brother...I can't be with you because of him and I can't be with him because of you, because it hurts me whenever I see you together."

And even though it's very difficult for him, the very day he made the decision to let her go, he accepted his ultimate loss. He just didn't know it would hurt this much. "This is never easy for me, Eri. I can't take any of this anymore. I don't want this. I don't wanna love you anymore." He said, almost begging.

"Samu..." Eri held his hand and he faced her.

"I'm with Y/N now."

"I understand." She said, finally trying to accept everything. "Do you really love her?"

His eyes quivered, recalling your smile yet all he could see was Eri's. The moments he kissed you and an image of Eri would pop into his head. Whenever you'd laugh, and he'd wonder if Atsumu was making Eri laugh too.

Unimaginable guilt settled in his gut. You were the one beside him when the two dearest people in his life left him alone yet all he could see was someone else in your place.

"She deserves better." And he'd try to be better.

"Samu?" You called out on him as you saw his figure from across the street. Your throat dried up and a tight knot formed in your chest when you saw Eri holding his hand.

"Y/N," he said, his voice laced with surprise.

If this would be a movie, you'd really want to turn away and run, letting him chase you as he gave you a hug from behind. But this wasn't a movie, so you have to take in a deep inhale and put on a brave face.

"I'm home early to prepare for the seminar." You said, forcing on a smile.

Osamu immediately went to you, but behind him you saw a faint stain of tears down Eri's cheeks. Somehow, you saw in her the same pain. The pain of not being able to be with the one you love.

"Is Eri okay?" You asked Samu. Your question felt like a stand-off for you. You knew you were now giving him the chance to run and choose his unrealized first love, but he just placed a hand at the small of your back and guided you to walk further, ignoring your question.

You looked up at him, studying his strained expression and his clenched fist.

Just right there, it was all clear yet he still reached for your hand.

𐑂 AN : hardest chapter to right not gonna lie 😩 there’s a lot of establishing going on in here and yes, this will end on the 5th chapter..the end is near and the ending is the very first one I drafted before everything else so next chapter will be very pivotal idk anymore I just hope you forgive me after this 😭 I really love to write stories that inspire personal growth so I really prayed I pull this one off well😭 anwssss see you guys next chapter!

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#✦ glimpse of us #osamu x reader #osamu angst #miya osamu angst #miya osamu x reader #osamu fic #osamu imagine #osamu x y/n #miya osamu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #hq x reader #hq fic #hq angst #haikyuu angst

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