#miya osamu fluff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

noosayog · 5 months

Text

002 get him back!

✧ wc: 4k

✧ warnings/content: miya osamu x fem!reader, sfw, fake dating au, angst to fluff,

✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist

divider from @/cafekitsune

It all started when Miya Atsumu said that you would never be able to find anyone who could put up with you. And you would have taken that with a grain of salt, if Miya Atsumu wasn't your ex who also happened to be a thorough asshole.

“Well you dated me didn’t you?!”

“And we broke up, duh.” he says flippantly.

You clam up at that. You know he’s just saying things. He doesn’t mean it and he’s a complete moron. But it’s been almost a year since the break-up and not a single man has even offered to buy you a drink. Are you going to have to resort to making a Hinge profile?

–

“I don’t know why ya let him get to ya. He’s just a moron,” Osamu says.

“You have to say that, he’s your brother,” you grumble.

“True. But he is an idiot.”

You plop your face heavily into the elbow resting on the counter and blow raspberries in one big exhale.

“Don’t get yer spit all over where my customers eat.”

You grunt, turning over to watch Osamu work behind the counter.

“Do you think I’m unlovable?” you ask.

“Huh?”

“There must be a reason no one’s asked me out on a date in the past 8 months, right?”

Osamu sighs, dropping off a plate of food in front of you. “I’m not gonna answer that.” Then he turns with his back facing you to fiddle with something on the other side of the kitchen.

“Why not?”

He exhales through his nose, quiet, but you hear it.

He doesn’t get the chance to answer because the door swings open to reveal Osamu’s twin. You jolt up, fixing your posture, self-conscious about letting Atsumu think his words are getting to you.

And rightfully so because Atsumu acts like a shark that smells blood. His lips curl up into what he thinks is a smirk, but resembles much more of a snarl.

“What’s up with ya,” he asks oh-so-innocently.

You have no good response and feel your face heating up in embarrassment when Osamu swoops in.

“Are ya gonna sit down or just block my door? ‘Cause I got people that actually pay to eat here.”

Atsumu starts yelling something at Osamu but simmers down into the seat next to you and mumbles something to himself, no doubt some choice words for his brother. It gives you momentary reprieve from Atsumu’s provocation which is the last thing you need right now with your self-esteem in the dumps.

The break is temporary though, because like a true creature with short-term memory and a propensity for being a prick, Atsumu circles back to the topic when he’s done eating.

“So, found a guy to take you out?”

“What makes you think I’d answer that question,” you bite back. Weak, but it’s all you have.

“Hah,” he scoffs. “I knew it. Ya can’t find anyone.”

You feel the irritation boiling like a witch’s cauldron inside of you, brewing a mix of resentment, mortification, and the tiniest streak of competitiveness. Atsumu not shutting up for the rest of the night is the final ingredient that makes your red hot concoction boil over. It goes a bit like this:

“Tell me if ya want me to set ya up with someone from the team. Might be the only chance ya get at this rate,” he teases.

“No thanks,” you hiss. “I’ll have you know that I’m dating Osamu, widely known as the better Miya.” You point smugly at Osamu whose back is currently to you both.

“What!” Atsumu yells. “Osamu? And you?”

With Osamu’s back to you, you can’t see his face, but all your fingers and toes are crossed that he’ll play along so that you don’t burn up in a gas of complete humiliation.

When Osamu turns around, his eyes go to you first. They search yours for something – what, you don’t know. He apparently finds it because he blinks away and tells his brother to mind his own business, neither denying nor validating your claim.

It might as well be confirmation though, because Atsumu squawks in indignation, sputtering his disbelief. Osamu continues to bicker with his brother, keeping him occupied enough to not realize that he was slowly being backed out of the restaurant.

When Osamu slams the door on Atsumu and twists the lock in a dramaticized show of finality, Atsumu finally gives up, yelling a muffled “I’ll be back.” through the windows. You could laugh at the duo if Osamu didn’t turn around and fix you with a look, similar to that of a responsible older brother scolding a child.

“Now yer turn. What was that about?”

“Osamu! You heard the way he was talking to me. I just can’t stand it!”

“Have ya thought this through? How’s this supposed to end, huh? We break up and Atsumu goes back to making fun of ya?”

You open your mouth to beg, because it’s always worked with Osamu. He always gives in. But he’s not done, apparently.

“‘Least ya could’ve done is ask me out, not use me to get through yer petty grudge with ‘Tsumu.”

That shuts you up. When you look at Osamu, he’s not looking at you. His eyes are downcast, distracting himself by wiping up the counter. It’s so brief that you convince yourself that you imagined the hurt in his voice.

“‘Samu…”

“Forget it. I’ll do it, but ya better have it thought out because I’m not helping ya anymore than this.”

It should be a win and any other time, you would wrap him up in a bear hug and shower him with thanks, but the defeated way Osamu concedes makes you solemnly finish your meal. It feels unfitting to say thank you.

–

Your first stint as Osamu’s girlfriend comes in the form of a friend’s dinner party. Since the night you forced Osamu to be your boyfriend, you have been back at Onigiri Miya to hang out, but have painfully tiptoed around the topic. The thought has occurred to you that you and Osamu should agree upon a backstory, but you haven’t had the courage to breach the topic after the way Osamu reacted.

He had just nodded when you asked him to attend this dinner party with you. And with that, he had dutifully picked you up at your apartment, perfectly on time. You had expected a stone-faced Osamu all night, but he had surprised you with a sweet smile, one that you’re used to being on the receiving end of. But it somehow feels different tonight. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s supposed to be smiling at you as your lover tonight. It was easy, the way he had held out his arm for you, no awkwardness in sight.

At dinner, Osamu makes no move to let go of your hand, going as far as to intertwine your fingers under the table. When any one asks how the two of you began dating, he squeezes to tell you he’ll handle this. You’re grateful and you feel undeservingly spoiled as you watch him. He looks around the room, drifts his gaze back to you where his lips flicker upwards for the tiniest second, then looks back at the crowd to flash a mysterious, close-lipped smile. You can barely hear the dinner table go wild with jeers and Atsumu squawking as you gawk at Osamu’s act.

And it goes on.

As you eat, he keeps your fingers clasped between his, laid on his lap. Atsumu gives you two the stink-eye, questioning why Osamu was eating with his left hand. You’re pretty sure your eyes are bulging out of your head at this point, because Osamu flushes. Osamu is blushing as he reluctantly lets go of your hand, making a show out of placing your hand back on your own lap and mumbling a heavily-accented apology at no one in particular.

–

When dinner finally ends, the party migrates to the living room. Osamu doesn’t need to ask, perfectly picking your favorite after-dinner drink of choice as he chooses a beer for himself. He has once again claimed your hand in his. His grip is tight and when you try to slip your hand out to get some space, he holds tighter.

You lean up to whisper in his ear, “Osamu, my hands are sweaty.”

He leans down to hear you better, but stands back up when he registers your comment. He ignores you, only squeezing twice, as if telling you to behave for him. Your head spins; you’ve never dated like this before.

Being with Atsumu was like living in a comically unrealistic sit-com, like you were constantly finding yourself in situations and having conversations that belong in a Tom and Jerry episode. He argued with you about everything, had an ego, and a temper. A particularly memorable moment was when he was still courting you, trying to convince you to date him by saying, “I’m six foot two.”

“Dude, nice try,” you had said.

But somehow, right now, with Osamu standing by your side and towering over you, you think that if this younger twin used that line on you right now, you’d fold in half for him. As if you wouldn’t with all the sweet nothings he’s lavished on you in this one night.

He only lets you get away when you embarrassingly whisper to him that you need a bathroom break.

“I’ll walk with ya.”

“No!” you exclaim. You lower your voice when he stares at you. “It’s okay, ‘Samu. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He backs off and you finally get away from his orbit.

Finally alone, you barely pull yourself together. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, slapping your cheeks lightly to pry the strange daze from your eyes. You can’t get carried away here. Osamu is doing you a favor, one he isn’t fond of. You can’t get used to Osamu treating you like this. It’s borrowed time.

You splash water onto your face, waiting until the chill seeps into your cheeks that have been painfully hot since Osamu picked you up tonight.

As you exit the bathroom, Atsumu is there waiting for you in the hallway.

“I’m onto ya,” he starts.

You scoff, immediately putting your facade back on. It’s easy with Atsumu. “Oh please, Atsumu. You’re just jealous.”

It doesn't phase Atsumu the way you hope. “Such a weak comeback. Sounds like something you’d say to disguise the fact that yer playin’ my brother.” Your brother is the one playing me.

“Whatever, Atsumu,” you say, walking away, taking Osamu’s advice to not let Atsumu get to you.

“I bet ya forced my brother to pretend to be yer boyfriend. I know my brother and I know you. Just admit it.” He smirks. “It’s okay that no one wants to date ya. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

The fact that even Atsumu, even all of his stupidity, sees right through you makes you feel hot. You’re grateful that you’ve already turned away from him because you could not take much more damage tonight. Nothing would end you in a worse way than Atsumu seeing that he could make you cry.

Or maybe it’s the fact that Atsumu doesn’t, for one second, believe that someone like his brother could fall for someone like you. Maybe no one does. Maybe everyone here just thinks that you’re making this up and they’re playing along to help you save face.

It takes everything in you to keep your steps and breathing even as you take the walk back to Osamu to compose yourself.

It’s useless apparently because Osamu seems right through you. He immediately offers to take you to the balcony, explaining to everyone that you need some fresh air to cut through the alcohol you’ve had.

His silent understanding makes it worse because it makes it clear that you’re an open book. The act you put on is completely pointless because no one believes you anyway.

Osamu guides you to the balcony and shuts the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone.

He joins you at the railing, draping his jacket over you. You know he knows that you want to avoid looking into his eyes, just as much as he knows you want to avoid having this conversation altogether. He sighs.

“Why do ya let him get to you like that?”

You look back at him, eyes widening at the tone he rarely takes with you. His eyes are fixed forward, arms still dutifully wrapped around you, ever the dedicated boyfriend. But as his gaze flickers to you momentarily, you catch the weight of his question in his eyes.

“Who?” you mumble.

But Osamu’s not in the mood. He stays silent, letting the question hang in the air.

“I don’t know… I just…”

“Are ya still in love with my brother?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

Osamu raises his brows.

“No, but I’ve known him for so long now.” You feel the need to explain. “He just gets under my skin. You of all people should understand – he’s your brother! You guys fight all day long.”

“He’s my brother. We shared a womb. We were born to fight.” Osamu sighs. “You, though... Why can’t ya just let it go?”

“I don’t know! I just…” you trail off.

He continues to stare at you, not even knowing the effect he has on you. His earnest gaze pulls the truth out from under your skin.

“I wanna get him back,” you admit.

Osamu’s eyes go dark at that statement. His expression shutters.

“Not like that!” you quickly amend. “Not like I want to get back with him, I mean like, his face just pisses me off!”

“Huh?”

“I just wanna punch him in the face but I don’t think anything would give me more satisfaction than proving him wrong you know. And honestly, Osamu, you-”

“Ya think that I’m the perfect person to piss him off for ya. ‘Cause I’m his brother and there’s no one else who would get under his skin more than if I replaced him.”

You hear the disappointment heavy in his intonation.

“Osamu…”

“Am I wrong?”

He’s not wrong, but you feel an urge to tell him how he made you tingle at dinner. It was in the way he catered to your whims, covered for you, and held your hand in secret. It was in the way he, as your not-boyfriend, made you feel loved and desired much more so than any other boyfriend you’ve ever had before.

But when you look at his side profile, face now turned away from you and hidden by the shadows of the night, it doesn’t feel right to say any of that. Even in your mind, it sounds like an excuse. Because the bottom line is that he’s right. Your original intentions had been to use Osamu. And the fact that you might have developed a slight crush on him in the process doesn’t make you feel any less shitty and certainly doesn’t make Osamu feel any less used.

His question goes unanswered.

–

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. Actually, it goes by too uneventfully because Osamu doesn’t call or text once. Not that you’ve made an effort, but after how that last conversation with Osamu ended, you can’t find the courage to face Osamu.

It doesn’t make you miss him any less.

You can’t recall if you used to miss Osamu like this, think about him and wish he’d reach out even if it’s only been a couple of days since you’ve last met. You only know that right now, you wish he’d make the first move because you can’t muster up the nerve to see him, even if it’s all you wanted. It also makes you realize that Osamu has been spoiling you long before that night and long before he agreed to be your fake boyfriend. The reason you never had to miss him is because he is always the one who makes the effort to call, text, bring you lunch, pick you up from work, drive you around.

The realization only made you feel worse about yourself.

And after days of mulling over realization after realization, each making you guiltier and guiltier, you made your decision.

That’s how you end up running to Osamu’s apartment, late on a Thursday evening. Without pausing to compose yourself, afraid you’ll lose your momentum, you knock.

The door swings open to reveal a very tired-looking, very handsome Osamu. He has his cap off, but his hair is unruly, as if his fingers have just recently run through it. His eyes are slightly bloodshot and his t-shirt is wrinkled. The urge to rub your thumb over his eyelids and smooth your other hand over this shirt is a sudden one you shove down because Osamu’s opening his mouth.

“Hey, what’cha doing here so late?”

There’s a momentary disappointment that strikes your gut. He asks you so normally, as if he isn’t plagued with thoughts of avoiding you. As if the couple of days that have gone by without any interaction between the two of you isn’t even a thought that occupies headspace.

“Uh,” you stutter.

“Actually,” he sighs and glances behind him. “Now’s not a good time. Can ya-”

“I don’t care about Atsumu,” you cut him off. It sounds like he’s preparing a rejection. Or he just doesn’t want to talk. Neither of which are favorable outcomes, so you barrel through to say what you need to say.

“I don’t care about what he thinks. Not anymore and definitely not that night. I was actually thinking about you the entire time and Atsumu, well, he’s just-”

“Just wait a minute, okay-”

“He just gets under my nerves because of the shit he says and I know he’s just saying stuff to rile me up and I’m a hothead, okay? He gets me because we’re like the same person sometimes, but I’m not doing this to get back at him anymore. It’s actually your fault because-”

“I knew it!” a voice yells from behind Osamu.

You crane your neck to see around Osamu and curse Osamu’s big frame for taking up the entire doorway and blocking your view of the apartment because there is the older twin, grinning widely and walking up to where you’re both standing.

You instantly feel the panic rise in your system.

“Atsumu,” Osamu begins in a warning tone.

Ignoring his brother, Atsumu continues on. “I knew it. I knew the two of ya couldn’t be dating just like that.”

Your nervous system goes into overdrive. Even you know how this looks.

You barged into Osamu’s place randomly at night and picked the time when Atsumu coincidentally is here as well.

Your wide eyes meet Osamu, willing him to believe that you didn’t come to make a scene for Atsumu’s viewing. You didn’t come to confess that you might have a crush on him with this exact timing so that Atsumu would fall for the act.

When Osamu refuses to meet your eyes, it brings your attention back to Atsumu, who continues to gloat about his victory.

Your face burns in mortification as you take slow steps away from the twins, making room for your getaway. As Atsumu gets closer and Osamu continues to avoid your gaze, your courage wanes and the last bit of pride you’re holding onto propels you to turn away instead of retorting as you always do.

“Aww, really let my words get to ya, didn’t ya? I knew all along-”

Before you can start running, Osamu grabs your arm and pulls you into the apartment, the other arm shoving Atsumu out.

“Hey, ‘Samu!”

“Shut the fuck up, ‘Tsumu. Now that my girlfriend’s here to spend the night, get out.” Osamu shuts the door in his face.

Atsumu’s protests fall on deaf ears, the sound of Osamu referring to you as his girlfriend echoing in your mind. He had taken your side, chosen to take the course of action that would embarrass you to least despite not having confirmed what your intentions were. The thought fills you with hope.

He pulls you further into the apartment, sitting you on the barstool. After situating you on the chair, he makes to step out of your personal space, but you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. Your eyes start to sting in frustration that Osamu could somehow believe that this was all just another incident you had orchestrated to get back at his brother. This has all gotten so hopelessly messy.

“Osamu,” you sniffle into his neck. “I didn’t come over here and say all that because I knew Atsumu was listening. I just-” missed you.

He rubs soothing circles into your back, gently enough to make you want to cry more because you don’t deserve this but want it so badly.

“You just…?” he prompts.

The words won’t come out and your tears soak into his shirt. You want to tell him so badly that you’re not crying to garner his sympathy; you’re crying because you’re so angry with yourself.

Osamu patiently strokes your back, letting you cry before quietly telling you, “Oh, baby. How long do ya think we’ve known each other? I know yer not the type to set up this whole complicated scenario just to show up my stupid brother. I believe ya.”

His other arm is now holding your head to his neck, fingers running lightly across your scalp. “So can ya finish what you were about to say for me?”

His words and his actions do what they always do to you. They fill you with so much hope that there’s no room to mistaken his intentions. They fill you with the courage to tell him.

“Missed you,” you whisper.

Finally, both of his arms wrap around your back to push you tight into his chest. He squeezes, gentle enough to keep you safe but firm enough to tell you he wants you there. It pulls the confession out of you.

“And I like you so much, Osamu.”

He chuckles lightly into your ear. You can feel the vibrations echo in his chest. When you squeeze back, he trails his arms down to your legs to guide them around his waist. He carries you with ease to the couch and sits you down to cry in his lap.

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like that for, but when you finally calm down, you keep your arms wrapped around him and quietly ask, “why did you do all this for someone like me?”

He stops stroking your hair.

“What, ya don’t like it?”

You pull away to protest, already too comfortable with him spoiling you again, only to find the corner of his lips quirked up in a smirk.

He’s teasing, you realize.

You smack his face weakly and wind your arms back around him.

You snuggle back into his neck but he’s the one who pulls you back this time.

“Hey, seriously though,” he says. “Is this okay?”

You nod shyly.

“I need to hear it, sweetheart.”

“I want it.”

“Alright. C’mere then.”

You oblige.

“Can I tell ya a secret?” he murmurs into your neck.

You nod.

“There isn’t a man out there who’d do all that for someone he doesn’t love, ya know that?”

It makes you flustered, but much of what Osamu does does that to you. His tenderness makes you want to try harder to meet him in the middle.

“Can I do something?” you ask, taking a leap. Your face is incredibly hot and your heart is beating embarrassingly loudly against his. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

It’s easy when he responds, “You can do anything ya want to me.”

You intend for it to be an innocent peck, your form of an apology. But he holds the back of your neck, the other arm wrapped almost all the way around your torso and doesn’t let go until you’re panting against his open mouth.

He’s nonchalant when he shrugs.

“You can do anything ya want but I’ll be doing the same from now on.”

2K notes · View notes

kitashousewife · 7 months

Text

“are ya usin’ that?”

you pull the headphones away from your ear, glancing up at the man in front of you while you try to psych yourself up for this set.

“yeah,” your jaw just about drops on the floor when you see your gym crush, who you’re sure is named osamu, is staring right back at you. “i just started.”

he grins.

“can i swap in with ya?”

you nod quickly, not wanting to get too distracted. when you start at the cables, pulling the weight down, you can’t even begin to focus on the task at hand. not when there’s a six-something, absolutely built man right behind you.

after your set you step to the side awkwardly, not wanting to bother him too much. you’ve seen this man for months now, and based on his physique? he means business. hidden underneath the loose sweatshirt and joggers he’s got on today is rippling muscle, something he rarely shows off.

and today must be your lucky day.

as soon as you adjust the weight, osamu pulls his sweatshirt off to reveal a very tight, very thin white tank top. you get through your set, barely, and avoid eye contact when you let him take over once more.

you watch his entire set set like a hawk, eyeing his triceps as they flex with each downward movement. his back tightens, his jaw squeezes with the effort he’s putting in. you almost faint when he looks back at you.

“yer up. last one, right?” he’s slightly out of breath, and you feel the same way.

“yeah, then i’ll get out of your hair. i’ll try to make it quick,” you give him a polite smile, adjusting the weight quickly and getting in position to do your final section. after this, you can go home, shower, and lounge around.

“i don’t mind switchin’ with ya, it’s been nice.” you hum in response, focused on the task at hand. “i’ve seen ya around for a little while. glad i finally got to talk to ya.”

thankfully that was your last rep, because the bar just about slipped out of your hands.

osamu, the man who you’ve been eyeing across the gym has apparently been looking at you too. your face heats up for a moment before you find the words to respond.

“oh!” you wrack your brain for something, anything to spit out. “you as well, our paths have never really crossed until now i guess.”

he chucked, eyes lazy and a wide grin playing at his lips.

“i might need a spotter tomorrow. ya down to help?”

you nod quickly. he laughs.

“see ya tomorrow, then. i’ll be lookin’ for ya.”

#osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #osamu fluff #miya osamu fluff

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seravphs · 11 months

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — MIYA OSAMU x FEM READER

On a bad day, Onigiri Miya becomes your new comfort restaurant. Not only is the food good, but the man who takes your orders is always kind. You think the Miya you’ve been venting to on the phone is the same Miya who shows up at your door to deliver all of your orders.

It’s too bad you don’t know there’s two of them.

wc — 2k

tags — fluff, romcom, miscommunication, miserable corporate girl x small business owner who teaches her joy

The email doesn’t even do you the courtesy of being short. They make you read through two whole paragraphs before you get to the point of it all in the final sentence.

Your termination is effectively immediately.

You sit back in your chair to allow yourself a moment to take it in. It’s…not terrible, all things considered.

You get to leave this job that you hate. They’ll pay you severance. You have enough savings to be comfortable for the next few months.

It might even a blessing.

But it still doesn’t feel good. You worked hard to land this, and now you’ll have to start all over again. Change is always hard, especially when you haven’t asked for it.

You look at the clock. It’s currently 8:30 in the morning. You’re giving yourself exactly twenty four hours to wallow, and then it’s back to business.

First things first - a good meal. Food always make everything better, and you really deserve something special today. For a moment, you entertain the idea of calling your friends over to get breakfast somewhere fancy, but then you remember -

They’re all at work.

Where you would be, if you hadn’t just been let go.

That does sting a little, so maybe you’re not as okay as you thought you were. Hurriedly pushing those thoughts to the side in favor of scrolling through your options, a plain blue banner catches your eye.

Onigiri Miya, it reads.

Japanese comfort food. Family owned.

When you click on the link, it takes you to a page that’s as simple as it’s name. It’s just a menu and a series of pictures, but it’s what you need right now. Your head hurts. You don’t have the capacity to deal with anything more.

You want something straightforward and easy to digest. Onigiri Miya it is, then.

“‘Miya speakin’. What can I get ya?”

It’s a pleasantly accented voice. When you rattle off your order, you suddenly find it a little less pleasant after he says, “Er. Ya sure?”

This is some shoddy customer service.

“I’m placing the order, aren’t I?”

“Those two don’t normally go together,” he says. “I’d suggest number nine and number thirteen instead. Trust me.”

You don’t trust him, actually. This is probably just an upselling tactic he tries on every customer, but you’re not in the mood to argue. You had thought when you called a family owned restaurant, you’d be speaking to some kindly old grandma who might let you cry and vent into the receiver for just a little while, not whoever this is.

At least the delivery is quick.

A series of sharp raps on your door alerts you to the arrival. You pull it open to a man in a baseball cap and a uniform with onigiris on both. Their merch is cute. You’d wear it unironically.

Underneath the cap, yellow blonde hair peeks out. On his shirt, a name tag reads Miya.

Instantly, you feel a little worse for thinking poorly of him. Your bad attitude from work is no reason to take it out on this hardworking entrepreneur who’s running a one man show by himself.

“Here ya go,” he says, thrusting a paper bag at you. “Eat it while it’s hot!”

And then he’s off, scampering back down the stairs instead of taking the elevator even though you’re several floors up. You suppose there’s a reason he has those thighs.

That the food is good is an understatement.

Your former coworker Aiko used to work in food advertising before she pivoted. She loved to talk about how fake the industry was during lunch, both in terms of people and actual product. It’s through her that you know that half of the food in commercials aren’t actually food, but styrofoam and plastic painted to look appetizing.

Onigiri Miya, in contrast, doesn’t look perfect. Appetizing, certainly, but not like a work of art. It just looks like what it is - a ball of rice with special ingredients for flavor.

So why are you crying as you finish your first onigiri and reach for the next?

It’s been so long since you had a home cooked meal. You’re trying not to be maudlin, but you can almost taste the love that went into everything you’re eating. Imagining Miya carefully packing each triangular ball of rice by hand with a smile has you reaching for another, then another, until eventually the entire order is gone before you know it.

Exhausted from crying and eating, you sink into your couch with a satisfied sigh and fall asleep.

It’s 1:30 P.M. by the time you rise again, feeling a little better. Sleep really was the cure to all evils. Now you have 20 hours left to indulge yourself as much as possible.

You’re not in the mood to turn off your brain by binge watching a show. You want to do something. You want to use your hands to craft something from scratch.

Learning how to make onigiri could be a start. A quick run to the grocery store and the first recipe that popped up on Google later, you have a half formed, crumbling mound of rice with pickled radish shoved inside. If you squint, it looks almost like what you got from Onigiri Miya this morning.

Who are you kidding?

That’s an insult to Miya’s craft. He put so much care into each dish - you can hardly compare your shoddy workmanship to his. There’s only one thing to do. You have to taste the real thing again to see where you went wrong.

“Miya. What d'ya want to order?”

“I’d like-“

“Hold up. Didn’t ya call this morning?”

Flustered, you nearly fumble your phone. You’re breathless as you clutch is tighter and bring it back to your ear. “Yeah,” you admit sheepishly. “Is that bad?”

“I mean, yeah, a little,” Miya says. “I appreciate the business but ya shouldn’t be eatin’ onigiri for two meals a day. Yer going to make yerself sick.”

“It’s a special day,” you tell him. “I got laid off.”

In the resounding silence that follows, you have ample time to berate yourself for sharing that. What is wrong with you? Why would you say that? He’s a stranger that you’ve randomly dumped your misery onto and you’re sure he’s -

“Ouch,” he says. “‘Kay, I’ll make an exception just for today. What’s yer order?”

Miya shows up at your door promptly. He’s ditched the cap so his yellow hair is on full display. It looks like he’s run his hands through it. It sticks up at odd angles.

“Here ya go,” he says, almost distractedly as he hands you your bag. “Enjoy.”

You bring the bag inside and start rummaging through it immediately, excited to try new flavors you hadn’t gotten the first time around. Out comes the four onigiri you had ordered, a cup of miso soup, and…

A little takeout container of sushi with a cat’s face drawn on it. A speech bubble next to its head reads, “You can do it, meow!”

Laughter echoes around your apartment. To your surprise, the world feels less daunting already. You hadn’t realized how quiet you had been the entire morning. Miya’s the only person you’ve spoken to the entire day, and even that was a quick and whispered thank you. Your throat almost hurts with the force of your giggles after disuse all morning, but it’s a good kind of pain.

Onigiri Miya, family owned. You can almost feel the warmth of an embrace around you as you bite into your steaming onigiri, still a little too hot.

All too soon, it becomes a tradition for you to order Onigiri Miya as your comfort meal. It doesn’t even have to be a bad day - you actively try to avoid associating things you like with painful feelings by using them as treats for hard days. Instead, Onigiri Miya is anything from a reward for getting to the second round of interviews or a celebration for successfully starting a new hobby.

Onigiri has become your favorite food, and the person on the other line who takes your orders and even spares a few minutes to chat with you when it’s not too busy has quickly become someone irreplaceable in your life.

You think you might need to redownload Tinder if you’re this attached to the man who fulfills your onigiri orders.

Even though you know it’s strange, you can’t bring yourself to sever your connection. Miya is warm and kind, and you’ve quickly come to think of him as a friend. It’s a culmination of lots of little moments piling up over time.

When you had forced yourself to go on your first date after a while, determined to get back out there, it had crashed and burned catastrophically. Onigiri Miya had been there to pick you back up. Miya had even recognized the sniffles in your voice that you were fighting and drawn you another little cat.

The next time you had ordered, before you could even tell him what onigiri you wanted, Miya had asked you what happened last week. Maybe that’s just how family owned businesses are. They actually care about their customers. Enough so to play therapist to the girl that orders from you every week.

Then there was the time you had gotten your first call back for a job application, and you had called Miya to celebrate.

Well, not Miya. You didn’t have his personal number, but you had called Onigiri Miya, which is more or less the same thing at the moment. This time, he had been the one to be interrupted as you blurred out your good news.

You can almost hear the smile in his voice when he says, “What’d I tell ya? I knew ya could do it.”

There’s no container of sushi with a hand drawn cat this time, but there is a little note written on a napkin. It’s accompanied by an origami star.

You don’t cry, exactly, but your eyes water up as you read the note. He’s proud of you. The star is to wish you luck on your continued journey. The knowledge that he’s proud - his own words - fuels you as you keep applying and interviewing, never letting rejection stop you.

He’s just the guy that takes your onigiri order, but at some point, he’s become someone special to you.

He cares. He spends an extra two minutes on the phone with you to ask about your day even when you can hear the sounds of a busy environment in the background. He remembers your accomplishments and failures. Whether you fall or rise, he’s there with you every step of the way.

Sometimes, you get a fluttery feeling in your stomach when he laughs at you, calling you silly for whatever mistake you’re relying to him. You miss his voice when you don’t have an occasion to call, and when something happens, your first thought is always to tell him about it.

Maybe he feels the same way, because the next time he comes to deliver your order, he tells you, “We’ve known each other long enough, ya order every week. I don’t like being called Miya. My name’s Atsumu.”

Or maybe not, because he never treats you in person the way he does on the phone. There’s no spark of connection, no bright laughter, no willingness to linger, to stay, to listen.

Perhaps he’s just shy. In that case, you’re willing to take what he’s offered you and make the first move.

The next time you order, you end the call with, “Thanks, Atsumu. I’ll talk to-“

There’s an abrupt interruption from the other end immediately.

“What’d ya call me?” His voice sounds funny.

“…Atsumu?”

Even when you’re confused, the sound of his belly deep laughter makes you feel all shivery from your toes to your head. It makes your joints feel weak, like they can’t support you, and you ease into the dining chair as you wait patiently for whatever laughing fit that’s gripped him to pass.

“Atsumu,” he repeats, with another snort of laughter. “Atsumu, really?”

“What?”

“Ya know Onigiri Miya’s a five minute walk from yer place, right?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Come here,” he says, and hangs up.

When you enter Onigiri Miya, you get instant whiplash. There’s two of them!

You’re just wondering if you should get your eyes checked when you start seeing the subtle differences. They have different hair colors, and their eyes are just the subtlest shades apart.

The most discerning difference is the way the one with grey hair is looking at you.

“There’s the girl of the hour,” Atsumu says. “I’ll leave ya to it.”

When Atsumu leaves, Miya gestures for you to sit at the bar in front of him. He’s still packing onigiri.

“I’m a little hurt, ya know. Can’t believe ya mistook me for my twin.”

“It was an accident!” You protest. “How was I supposed to know?”

“I’m teasin’ ya,” he says, laughing. “Yer so easy to rile up. Remember this, okay? I’m Osamu. The nicer brother.”

“I heard that,” Atsumu yells from the back.

“Atsumu’s just the delivery guy,” he says. There’s a twinkle in his eye. You don’t think it’s that funny, but you like seeing him mirthful. “I’d rather make the food than deal with the people, so he does it.”

“Am I part of the people?”

He gives you a look.

“Stop fishing for compliments,” he says, and your cheeks grow warm with delight. “Ya know ya aren’t.”

“Here,” he says, sliding you a napkin with a series of numbers and a hand drawn picture of a cat. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a while.”

By the cat’s head, the speech bubble reads, “Miya Osamu’s personal number.” The cat is winking at you.

“Is this…?”

He smiles at you. “Stop clogging up the line cause ya miss me-“

“I don’t-“

He ignores you. “I got a business to run, ya know? Just call me next time.”

Then, he leans over the bar. He’s too close. Your cheeks feel warm under his attention as he whispers to you, “I’ll make something just for ya, compliments of the chef.”

Trying to recover, you swallow to bring moisture to your dry mouth. You’re trying to be playful when you say, “It’s a date, then?”

He looks at you with a hint of a smile. “It is.”

#sera writes #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #miya osamu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff

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narumi-gens · 4 months

Text

The L Word

Miya Osamu x f!Reader

summary: Love makes people stupid. Osamu knows it firsthand.

warnings: minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, established relationship, love confessions, fluff with a teeny hint of angst, happy ending, small miscommunication bc Osamu is an idiot but it gets cleared up, Atsumu to the rescue, Osamu being the dumber Miya twin for a change, Osamu really goes through it in this fic but it's all okay bc you love him

notes: literally wrote this entire thing today bc Osamu just does something to me. this takes place earlier on in the Meet the Miyas couple's relationship and you don't have to read the other fics to get this one, but I sure would like you to.

words: 3.6k

part of the Meet the Miyas series

Osamu’s date with you was meant to be a quick dinner. If he was thinking more clearly, he wouldn’t have suggested seeing each other that night at all. It’s been a hectic week for the both of you and he knows that you have to catch an early morning train for a meeting out of town the next day.

But he can’t think clearly when it comes to you. Because he loves you. He doesn’t know when exactly it happened, but he knows it was probably after only a couple of dates, which he also knows is crazy.

Again, he can never think clearly when it comes to you.

It means that he’s spent the last few months in a love-induced haze of happiness as your budding relationship has progressed. It’s even been enough to dull the irritation he would normally feel at how smug Atsumu has been about being the one to set the two of you up in the first place.

Of course, none of that is on his mind now. The only thing he can currently think about is how much he doesn't want your evening together to end.

It’s a desire of his that you’re more than willing to indulge in as your time at the restaurant stretches on long past dessert. When he offers to walk you home even though you live in opposite directions, you don’t even bother to give a perfunctory protest. You merely nod with a wide grin, happily accepting the arm he wraps around your shoulders as you curl into his side.

And what began as a sweet kiss goodnight outside of your building is now bordering on something inappropriate for a public setting, even on an empty street.

Your soft lips move against his and his tongue slips into your mouth to taste you. One of your hands rests against his neck, while the other runs through his hair, making him shiver at the sensation of your fingernails gently running against his scalp. Both of his are tightly holding onto your waist, holding you as close as he possibly can so that the only thing separating you two is the clothing you both are wearing.

“Come upstairs,” you breathe as he begins to trail his lips from yours to the spot just below your ear that always has your knees feeling weak whenever he lavishes it with attention.

Unfortunately, Osamu has just enough of his sanity left to know what the responsible choice is.

“Ya need to sleep,” he murmurs against your skin before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck that makes you sharply inhale. “Yer meeting tomorrow is important. Gotta be well rested.”

“So thoughtful,” you tease as you guide his lips back to yours to give him another heated kiss, only to pause for air a moment later. “I promise. No funny business. We can just sleep.”

He can’t hold back his snort at your suggestion or his laugh when you pout at his reaction. He rests his forehead against yours, looking at you with a fond smile on his shining and slightly swollen lips.

“We never ‘just sleep’ when I come up,” he reminds you and your pout deepens.

“But I don’t want to say goodbye yet,” you tell him, and damn if his heart doesn’t ache with how full of love it is for you.

“Okay. We don’t have to say goodbye,” he agrees and your expression lights up. However, it falls as he continues to speak. “We’ll just say goodnight instead.”

“Osamu,” you whine and he presses a soft kiss to your lips before you can say anything else.

“Goodnight,” he says.

When you open your mouth again, he gives you another smiling kiss.

“Goodnight.”

You open your mouth again, a smile of your own tugging at your lips, which he kisses again.

He loves you.

“Goodnight.”

You playfully open your mouth as you pretend to say something. He kisses you.

He loves you.

“Goodnight.”

Another attempt on your part to protest. Another kiss to silence you.

He loves you.

“Goodnight.”

Your mouth opens. He gives you a kiss.

He loves you.

“I love you.”

He freezes, but not because he’s accidentally spoken the words that have been on his mind these past months.

It’s because the words don’t come out in his voice. They come out in yours.

His eyes snap open to find you gazing up at him with a small hint of nervousness, but otherwise nothing but pure affection and fondness and love. It’s everything he’s been dreaming of — literally. He has literally been dreaming about this exact scenario.

But in his dreams, he gently murmurs that he loves you in return and softly runs his thumb along the apple of your cheek. The two of you then kiss beneath the first soft snowflakes of winter or the floating spring cherry blossoms or a drizzle of summer rain.

Reality is much worse. Because in his shock and disbelief, all he can do is open and close his mouth, struggling to put all of his joy and excitement and love in return into words. And the longer the silence stretches on, the touch of hesitation that was initially present on your face slowly begins to morph into sheer horror.

Your embarrassment is visible at his lack of a response and when you force out a small, self-conscious laugh, he knows that you’re regretting ever speaking those three beautiful words aloud.

“Sorry,” you wince and a cold shard of ice pierces his heart.

No, no, no. Don’t apologize. Never apologize. Not for loving him. Not when he loves you, too.

You clumsily try to extricate yourself from his hold and he’s too wrapped up in his own mortification over how stupid he is that he easily lets you.

“I don’t…s-sorry!”

Your voice breaks as you stumble over your unnecessary apology and even while you refuse to meet his gaze, he can see how quickly your eyelashes are fluttering as you try to blink back the tears that he’s caused.

“Night, Osamu,” you manage to say through a soft sniffle before hurrying towards the steps of your building.

The only thing worse than the panic and anger that he’s feeling towards himself is whatever it is that you’re feeling. You opened yourself up to him, allowing yourself to be vulnerable and trusting that he would keep your heart safe.

And he was too much of an idiot to be able to offer his own heart in return.

He just needs to get the words out. Just get the words out.

Just get the fuckin’ words out, ya big fuckin’ pussy.

Relief floods through his veins when he’s finally able to blurt your name as he calls after you. He can fix this. He can tell you that he loves you and that he was just so elated that he was physically incapable of putting any words together.

You stop, your foot on the bottom step as you turn towards him. While your eyes are shining with tears, he can also the hope in them as you silently plead with him to continue.

A deep breath releases from his lungs. He hasn’t ruined it yet. You’re willing to listen to him. You’ll give him a chance to make things right and prove to you that he deserves you. He’s so fucking grateful to you.

“Thank you!”

He wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Maybe a car will pass by and run him over. Could he be lucky enough for a freak thunderstorm and to be struck by lightning? When nothing happens, he contemplates dropping to his knees and banging his head repeatedly against the concrete sidewalk.

All of it would feel better than watching how quickly he’s shattered the last remaining pieces of hope that you were desperately clinging onto. You stay still just long enough for him to see your lower lip tremble before you dart up the stairs of your building.

And because of how the stupid apartment buildings in this country are designed, he gets a perfect view of you racing up the exterior staircase and then towards your apartment, pausing only to unlock the door, which then slams loudly shut behind you. The sound echoes through the quiet street, reverberating against the pavement and buildings, but also in his mind.

Osamu takes a slow, deep breath and holds it before exhaling. He then buries his face his hands, his fingers tugging at his hair, and lets out an unintelligible scream that’s filled with a nauseating mixture of frustration and embarrassment. The noise is louder than the slamming of your door and a dog starts to bark in the distance.

In a daze, he somehow manages to make it to his bus stop. Likewise, his phone is now somehow held up against his ear. And somehow, Atsumu’s screeching voice answers on the other end.

“Thank you?” he greets angrily and Osamu loudly groans as he slumps forward so far that his head is practically between his knees. “My best friend, the woman yer totally in love with, says she loves ya and all ya can do is thank her?”

“I was just so excited, I couldn’t think straight. I’m a fuckin’ idiot. I know, okay?” he mumbles. He hears a bus pull up to the curb but he’s too distraught to even look up and see if it’s his as he lets it pass. “She already told ya?”

“She’s on the other fuckin’ line right now, crying because of you, ya scrub,” Atsumu bites back and somehow, after everything that’s happened in the past ten minutes, Osamu manages to feel even worse.

There’s a long pause and his guilt and mortification must be so bad that his brother can hear it through the phone because Atsumu gives a sigh of pity.

“Look, just make it right. We share the same DNA. Ya must have gotten a little bit of my ability to be romantic.”

In any other situation, Osamu would scoff and roll his eyes. But right now, he doesn’t have the right to make fun of anyone, not even his twin. Instead, he simply nods even though Atsumu can’t see it over the call.

“Can ya find out what time her train gets in tomorrow?” he asks pitifully.

“Okay, sure,” the setter offers before sighing again. “I gotta go.”

“Yeah, don’t keep her waitin’.”

He wonders if you know that it’s him Atsumu is talking to. You must. But Atsumu is a pretty good liar, much better than Osamu anyway. He’s had plenty of practice lying over every little thing under the sun since they were young. Surely, he can convince you that it was a teammate or his agent or anyone else but the man responsible for your distress.

“Same goes for you, Samu,” Atsumu warns him, but there’s at least a gentle undertone of sympathy in his voice that he probably only extends because they shared a womb.

“Thanks,” he says, feeling truly grateful to his brother in a way he hasn’t felt since he set the two of you up.

“I think ya said that enough tonight, ya scrub.” Atsumu then ends the call and Osamu’s gratitude dwindles.

But Atsumu does come through for him, texting him the information on your train, which Osamu reacts to with a mere thumbs up, knowing that any form of thanks will have him being called a scrub for the third time that night.

The next day, Osamu closes the shop early. It’s for the better as he keeps getting orders wrong and has to offer so many discounts in apology that if he stayed open any later, he would probably end the day at a loss.

His mind has been so preoccupied that there’s no room left in it for onigiri. All he’s been able to think about is his plan to make it up to you. He’ll go home and change into his nicest suit. He’ll go to the florist and buy the nicest bouquet they have. He’ll stop by the bakery near your apartment on the way and order a slice of your favorite cake.

And then you’ll come home to find him waiting for you outside of your building, where he’ll give you the speech he spent all day on. He’ll tell you how sorry he is and explain how much of an idiot he was and tell you that of course, he loves you. He’s even written down exactly what he wants to say on an order sheet from the restaurant so he doesn’t forget a word.

But apparently, the universe has decided that it wants to laugh even more at his expense.

Everything starts smoothly. Despite not having worn it in over a year, his suit fits as perfectly as it did when he bought it. And after a quick iron, it looks like he just picked it up from the dry cleaner. When he arrives at the flower shop, the kindly older woman working there helps him make a custom bouquet filled with flowers that all represent some form of love and apology.

It’s at the bakery where things start to go wrong.

First, it’s so late in the afternoon that the display window is picked clean over. Your favorite cake has sold out entirely and all that’s left are a variety of croissants, donuts, and croquettes. He stupidly decides to buy a donut anyway, because although the image of him giving you a donut is much less romantic, he’s always believed that food is the best way to show you care about someone.

Then, just as he’s finished paying and in his rush to make sure he gets to your apartment before you do, he runs right into a teenager holding a bright green melon soda, which spills all over the front of his clean, white dress shirt. The girl gasps in horror and immediately begins to apologize, repeatedly bowing as she offers him the napkins in her hand.

However, he knows it was his fault and that he can’t make another girl cry in less than 24 hours. He assures her that she wasn’t to blame and after patting his shirt dry to the best of his ability, he buys her a new drink and then helps the employee clean up the spill. He leaves the bakery with a squished donut and an obscenely green, large stain on his shirt.

And of course, he gets one block away from the bakery when it starts to rain. It’s not the soft, romantic drizzle that he’s imagined might color such an important moment in your relationship. It’s a true downpour that has people ducking into stores and under doorways. For just a moment, he considers stopping at a konbini and buying an umbrella but he’s already drenched and when he sees how long the line is, he decides that it wouldn’t be worth it if he has to miss you.

It’s another block away from the konbini that the bag holding the donut breaks, dropping the baked good into the gutter where it’s quickly washed away by the rainwater. As he looks at the soggy remains of the bag in his hand, he decides not to worry about it and shoves the mess into his pocket. The flowers are enough on his own.

The flowers, which he’s just now realizing aren’t in his hand and weren’t with him at the bakery. The flowers that he remembers setting down on the bench at the bus stop but doesn’t remember picking back up when he got onto the bus.

The voice in his head is frantic as it tries to assure him that everything is fine. If you really love him then you don’t need flowers or baked goods or him in a dry, unstained suit. You’ll love him just as he is when you find him waiting to greet you after a long day.

He’s thankful that the sound of rain falling is loud enough to mask the panicked, high-pitched whine he lets out when he turns the corner onto your block to find that you’ve beaten him to your place and are already standing on the bottom step of your building’s staircase, protected from the rain as you shake the worst of the water from your dripping umbrella.

There’s the smallest part of him that wants to just go back home and hide beneath the blankets like he used to do after losing a volleyball match.

But then, without his consent, your name leaves his lips and his feet begin moving on their own to meet you. You freeze mid-umbrella shake and look up at him in shock, clearly not having expected him, and definitely not in this state if the way your eyes widen is anything to go by.

Your senses come back to you quicker than his did to him last night and you open your umbrella back up and rush out to meet him, hurrying to finally protect him from the rain.

“Osamu, what are you doing? It’s pouring,” you say with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. You look him over from head to toe and frown. “Why are you so green? You look like you spilled a melon soda all over your shirt.”

It’s okay. He still has his speech. He’ll win you over with his words. Whether it was volleyball or opening his own restaurant, when has he ever given up?

Instead of answering you, he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out the order slip. He’s relieved that it’s held up better than the bakery bag and vows to keep buying order pads from the same supplier for the rest of his life.

At least until he unfolds the paper and finds that the ink he wrote in has run because of the rain that soaked through his jacket. His shoulders sag as he sighs in defeat.

“Osamu?” you ask with a timidness he hasn’t heard from you before and it’s enough to snap him from his own wallowing. His idiocy left you in tears last night.

The flowers, the suit, the pastry, the speech, this entire big, grand gesture he was trying to make all boil down to one thing.

“I love ya,” he says and it feels so good to finally be able to say the words aloud to you for the first time. It feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest, leaving room for how big his heart has grown with all the love it holds for you. “I’m so sorry about last night. I’ve been in love with ya since, like, our third date but I knew I’d seem crazy if I said it that early. And when ya said it first, I just couldn’t believe it and I was so stupidly happy that I just couldn’t say anything.”

Now that he’s started talking, the words won’t seem to stop. But from the way you’re looking up at him with so much warmth and affection and love, he doesn’t think you want him to.

“And then I started to panic because I couldn’t say anything, which made it harder to say anything else. So, I came up with this big plan to win ya back with flowers and cake and a big speech but literally everything went wrong.”

“Osamu,” you try to gently interrupt him, but by this point, he couldn’t hold anything in even if he wanted to.

“I forget yer flowers at the bus stop and the bakery was out of cake. Then I almost made this teenager cry so I had to make that right. And of course, this fuckin’ monsoon had to sweep in outta nowhere. And my speech got all ruined, too,” he complains, holding out the order sheet for you to see the proof.

“Osamu,” you try again. Only he’s too wrapped up now in this bizarre, stream-of-consciousness monologue to even take in the adoring way that you’re looking at him.

“If it was gonna rain, couldn’t it at least have been a soft, romantic type of rain? But I guess nothing says romance like a flash flood warning. It’s a good thing ya live on a higher floor with how much it’s comin’ down,” he continues. “All this little love confession is missing are some warning sirens—”

“You love me?”

The question finally shuts him up. But it’s a different kind of silence than the one from last night. Because you look so utterly happy as the three words occupy the space between you. His own expression softens and he crumples up the paper in his hand before shoving it into his pocket.

His hand now free, he tenderly cups your face and presses the softest, sweetest kiss to your lips as the rain continues to come down in sheets around you, only your small travel-size umbrella keeping you both safe.

As his lips part from yours, he rests his forehead on yours, an almost mirror image how you two were wrapped up in each other last night.

“Yeah, I love ya,” he whispers as he affectionately brushes his nose against yours. You smile back at him and his heart pounds with excitement at hearing you repeat the sentiment back to him.

But then, your eyes begin to sparkle mischievously as they always do when you tease him.

“Thank you,” you say and he thinks he’s somehow managed to fall even further in love with you.

#miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu fic #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #miya osamu fluff #osamu fluff #mel writes #meet the miyas #the l word

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reverie-starlight · 10 days

Note

Osamu + doing their makeup for them on the first prompt list? 🥹🥹🙏🙏

SO CUTE!!! I'm not sure which way you wanted this, but this was the first thing that came to mind. hope you enjoy!!

gn!reader that owns/uses makeup, no physical descriptions, fluff fluff fluff, I need to write for osamu more. I think legally for every three atsumu fics I post on this blog, I need to do one for his brother. pls don't hold me to that. very dialogue heavy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"how did I let ya talk me into this?" osamu sighs from underneath you. of course he knows how- your puppy dog eyes and sweet, sweet voice buttering him up.

you giggle and shift a bit so you're straddling him more comfortably. "because you loveeee meeee," you sing. "and you're extremely weak against my charm," you swipe some bright green eye shadow over his left eyelid.

the man sighs again, but the corner of his mouth is clearly twitching upwards at the reminder. "yeah, yeah, whatever," he starts bouncing his leg to pass the time and you click your tongue.

"'samu, stop moving, I'm gonna mess your face up."

he lets out a sudden laugh. "yeah, I'm sure moving my leg a little bit is the thing that's gonna mess my face up. definitely not the gremlin sitting on my lap with some-" he opens his right eye to try to get a glimpse of the brush but you're quick to pull it out of his view. "mystery colour. I don't like the look on your face, sweetheart, what are ya doin' to me?"

your laugh is far too ominous for his liking. "don't you worry, baby, I'm gonna make you so pretty."

"wasn't worried," he shoots back automatically, but then he grumbles a bit while rubbing your thighs, "thought you already considered me pretty."

"aww, so pouty," you coo at him. "keep it up and I'm gonna put some gloss on you, too."

you have to kiss away his scowl and reassure him that nothing sticky or wet will be applied to his lips before lunch.

he stays still until you announce that you're finished. he's a little too quick about scooping you up in his arms and rising from his chair.

you had been giggling throughout the entire process and he remembers the barely concealed mischief behind your eyes when you first begged to do his makeup. there was absolutely zero chance that you had actually given him a cohesive look, but you've been so down lately, that seeing you genuinely laugh and smile made him just a bit more willing than usual to let you have your way.

"samu!" you shriek when he throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

he adjusts his grip on the back of your thighs to keep you from squirming too much. "this had better be the best look of the damn century, sweetheart, or you're going to pay for it."

"what? nooo, baby I swear I was just messing around-" you're squirming relentlessly now, doing everything in your power to get out of his grip and run to safety. your boyfriend is relentless when it comes to payback. granted, you don't mind one bit, but it doesn't make the build-up any less terrifying.

he flicks the light switch on and it's dead-silent in the bathroom as he takes in his new look. his grip loosens just a bit and you take the opportunity to finally wiggle out of his arms and stand beside him.

osamu is just standing there, jaw slacked and staring at his reflection. you bite your lip to stop more laughter from bubbling out.

on his left eye is the bright green eyeshadow you had hidden from his view. on his right is a glittery neon pink. you've applied eyeliner on him as well, however not as sharp as what he sees you do for yourself. not sharp at all, actually, because instead of his eyeliner being winged, you've turned it into rounded flower petals. his blush is horrendously over applied to the apples of his cheeks, making him look like a doll.

and for the final blow, you've also "tattooed" some words onto his face in red lip liner.

atsumu is the better twin.

how you managed to fit it all is a mystery to him- he's almost impressed- but what's even more dumfounding is how he hadn't realized you were writing on him.

he blames your adorable smile for distracting him.

once he's done processing, he turns to look at you slowly and you feel a strange mix of fear and excitement pooling in your stomach. you're both extremely still and waiting for the other to make a move.

you decide not to tell him that you realized halfway into the flower petal eyeliner that you forgot to restock your makeup remover.

after an agonizing ten seconds, your lover only has to narrow his eyes to get you shrieking and running for cover.

lunch will have to wait a bit longer, but he decides he's okay with that as he chases you down the hall and pretends he can't catch up. he'll get his fill soon enough, anyway.

"yeah, you'd better run, darlin'."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thank you so much for sending this in, I hope you enjoyed!!

@emmyrosee come get your husband

#miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x gender neutral reader

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teamatsumu · 5 months

Text

You know who is the best boyfriend to have when you’re tired? Osamu.

When you walk in through the door after a long day at work, he immediately notices that it has been a bad day. He’s perceptive like that. He will watch you closely as you lumber in through the door, back and head aching. And he will know exactly what to do in order to make what is remaining of your day as amazing as possible.

First things first, a hearty meal. This man’s top priority is feeding you. He will cook you something rich and filling, something that bursts with flavor and makes you hum when you bite into it. It will be equal parts scrumptious and healthy. You need to replenish the energy you’ve lost.

Next order of business is a nice, warm bath to sink into. He knows enough to know that those wound up, stiff muscles need heat to relax, and he will draw you the perfect bath. He knows what temperature you like, and as you soak in there, he will gently massage the shampoo into your hair. You best believe onigiri is not the only things those skilled fingers know how to handle. His fingers will press and drag over all the right spots until your eyes are falling shut.

And finally, when you are warm, dry, bundled up in clothes and in bed, he will sit beside you, pressing your forehead to ease the headache you complained about. His hands are massive, and he has a strong grip, so the pressure is just right, to the point that you nearly moan at the feeling.

No one is better at caring for their partner than Osamu. And you count your lucky stars that you have the privilege of experiencing his love.

#💭 late night ruminating #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #this is so self indulgent #haikyuu #haikyuu osamu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x y/n

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justmywriting1313 · 22 days

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Soft (Osamu x reader)

Adult, business-owning boyfriend!Osamu is without a doubt the type of partner who would slowly yet firmly bring out the soft, tender-hearted childish part of you... and it would be without either of you even realising it... only when someone else pointed it out would it strike you both and even then it would hit you a lot more than it would Samu. Not because he doesn't care but because to him that is the natural order of the world. When and where else were you allowed to be soft, tender and just taken care of if not with your big beefy boyfriend...

It's a cold winter night, but you all are sitting by the riverside, a blanket spread out and a collapsible table in the back holding food and drinks. The little group consists of you, Osamu, Suna, Iwaizumi, Kageyama, and a bunch of the other MSBY boys. Everyone is either nursing a drink or munching on snacks prepared by you and your boyfriend.

Osamu is sitting in the center of the blanket between a tipsy Suna and an amused Iwaizumi. Feet flat on the ground, knees spread apart, with his body hunched over yours, which is tucked against him. You are sitting between his legs, head thrown back against his shoulder, all warm and cozy. You let Samu hold up most of your weight as you melt into his chest, your hands playing with one of his own. Outside of setting up your little picnic and grabbing the occasional drink, it's how you spend most of your night. Somewhere behind you, you can hear Sakusa's indifferent voice talking to Kageyama. In front of you, Atsumu, Kotarou, and Shoyou are bickering over the last tuna mayo onigiri.

Every few minutes, Samu pecks your temple, quietly whispering snarky comments about others or chuckling deeply in your ear. He occasionally peppers kisses along your shoulder, and each time, you smile and mumble your agreement. You watch Atsumu fail to get the last onigiri from Bokuto as the much larger man chomps onto the rice in one bite. You giggle at the blonde's dismayed expression, which immediately grabs his attention.

"Y/N, don't laugh at me… it's not fair, ya know… that onigiri was rightfully mine."

"Awww, don't pout, Tsumu. Stop by the store tomorrow, okay? I'll keep an order prepared for you."

"One, I'm not pouting; I'm brooding. And two… You're the best, sweetheart. Have I told ya that?"

You just giggle, watching Atsumu jump about in happiness before he comes to a standstill. He takes a seat opposite you and Samu, legs crossed together. His eyes are trained on you, and you can only look back at him and smile. He smiles back wide before he speaks in a voice much quieter than before,

"Ya know, Y/N, I have never seen ya look so… so soft… unguarded even… it's probably the cutest thing ever."

His words are not at all what you were expecting, and they leave you gobsmacked and shy. You feel your cheeks heat up at the attention, especially when the boys around you start to peer in. Iwaizumi bends over trying to peek at your face against Osamu's hunched-over body. When your surprised doe eyes meet his, he chuckles in agreement,

"You aren't wrong, Astumu… definitely cute."

Suna does the same on the other side, one hand coming and lightly pinching your cheek.

"Mhmm, it is adorable… you should keep her hidden, Samu, otherwise someone's going to steal her away."

"Oh yeah? Ya one of those people, Sunarin?"

Finally, your boyfriend chimes in, you can feel his chest move as you bend back to look at him. You find his eyes already trained on you despite talking to Suna. His lidded eyes and soft smirk are an expression you would remember forever. You have never felt more loved and wanted in all your life, and you are quick to shy away from all the attention,

"You guys… go away. Smack around a ball or something."

You can feel Samu's chest rumble as he chuckles at your timidness while Atsumu jumps up to grab the ball and Shoyou. Suna pinches your cheek again, making you whine while Iwaizumi musses up your hair. Chatter seems to surround you again, but your mind is stuck on those words. They stay floating through your consciousness while the boys horse around, sometimes jolting when Osamu's body moves. The thoughts stay there while everyone packs, all of you too tired now and wanting to get home. It's all you can think about, even as Osamu grabs the heavy and lighter bags from your hand in one of his own, his other hand holding onto yours tightly. When you look up at him, he is already smiling down at you.

"Are ya okay, sweetheart? You've been quiet as a mouse, ya know."

You just hum, instead of leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. Osamu makes it easier by leaning down, quirking a brow at the soft gesture, but he doesn't say anything more. Instead, you walk down to the car, Sakusa helping to carry a drunk Atsumu along.

Soft. Soft. Soft… You sit in the passenger seat, looking out the window, with Atsumu and Sakusa in the back bickering with one another as usual.

You had never been soft…

You had never been soft in the sense that you were just never for others to see… Your softness, you had decided early on, was yours, and you would not give others a chance to abuse it because there were too many times where it had been… So when did it all change? When did it go from something secret to something celebrated?

Looking back, though, it was never really a question… Being soft with Osamu just happened as if you didn't know how to exist in any other way with him. You just couldn't… Not when he always bends down and ties your laces for you, nor when he always opens the car door and buckles your seat belt in because 'precious cargo' always needs to be strapped in. You didn't have a choice in keeping your softness hidden when you woke up to flowers on the table at least once a week, and when you asked Samu why, he just shrugged his shoulders and said pretty things should always be surrounded by pretty things. You didn't have a choice in hiding your tender heart when Samu has always had a hold on it, pulling it out of you and then keeping it on a pedestal for everyone to see but for no one else to touch.

Turning to look at him right now, one of his hands on the wheel, quietly humming something with his other hand on your thigh, gripping both your leg and your hand, you were hit with the intensity of Samu's love. And although his eyes never leave the road, you know he knows you're looking at him. You see him smile as the car comes to a stop in front of Atsumu's house. He turns to look at you, and when his eyes meet yours, he chuckles before leaning in to peck your lips. You have to stop yourself from deepening it because he has to help Sakusa get Atsumu to bed.

And when he comes back outside alone, your eyes immediately find him even in the dark outside. You roll the window down, his arms coming to rest on the door, head leaning in until you were so close you could feel his breath on your own lips.

"Ya sure you're alright mhmmm? Sure ya got nothing to tell me"

His nose comes to lightly nudge yours,

"Nothing to tell your Samu, promise, just been thinking that's all"

"How about you tell me what about? might make me feel better"

"Just thinking about how happy I am being yours thats all"

Your words knock the breath right out of Samu and he lets out a sounds thats something between a chuckle and a groan before he's leaning away to open your door. Before you can question him his hands find you face lips landing on yours. Samu kisses you like its all he can do not to stop himself every second of every day, a desperate growl of approval leaving him as he does before he pulls away and says,

"I will never get over how soft ya make me love, never!"

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mysterystarz · 1 month

Text

osamu miya is the “lowkey” twin compared to atsumu but i think it would be fucking hilarious to have him be the one with you as an enemy

you get along with the entire volleyball team — always helping them pick up balls at the end of practice and showing your support at every game. you sit in classes and offer notes, tutoring, and companionship to atsumu and co, and the team absolutely adores you…..except for osamu.

some petty story of his — you met on the first day of first year and you more or less insulted everything he’s ever loved offhandedly (differences in opinion) and instead of being mature about it, he decided to hate you for eternity. it doesn’t help that you competed against him in class and kept getting more and more attractive by the year (i mean…now he’s got you and your looks to fight against)

the team all knows that this rivalry is really just subtext for him not wanting to admit that he liked you more than anyone else on the team but hated the idea of it enough to ever admit it.

still, even with you as his enemy, you’ve captured his attention from the very start.

#nova scribbles <3 #even thinking about this is making me laugh #osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya headcanons #osamu miya x y/n #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x you #miya osamu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu headcanons

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emmyrosee · 3 months

Text

Outside, the rain pours like no one’s business, the wind howling in frustration as it mingles with the tinkering drops against your roof and windows.

You, luckily, are curled happily under your blanket, scrolling through your phone with a nice cup of tea next to you, enjoying the sounds of a storm in nothing but your own company.

Until-

“Ah. You’re home,” you hum, flicking your eyes up at osamu, then back to your phone. His arms are filled with reusable bags that dangle from the bulky muscles, two large palms cradling the milk, and the fluffiness of his hair lays flat to his head. His shirt is soaked, you hear the squish of his shoes, and you hate how cute the wet-dog aesthetic is on your man.

You hear him pant softly, “it’s. Wet. Outside.”

You chuckle and shake your head, reaching for your cup of tea, “yeah baby, that’s why I’m inside.”

“You could’ve helped your strong, smart, talented, amazing boyfriend with the groceries.”

“I offered, you said you “‘got this’,” you hum, secretly glad your boyfriends chivalry knows no bounds and he’d rather get drenched in the cold rain than risk you getting drenched in the cold rain.

But he is a Miya. He’s going to whine just a little bit.

You hear him place the groceries down, “but now I’m cold. And my shoes are wet. And I was lonely.”

You click off your phone and shrug off your blanket, making your way towards him. He smiles as you approach, and when you use a warm hand to move his hair off his forehead, he nuzzles into your touch.

“Thank you for getting the groceries,” you say, leaning up to press a kiss to his cold forehead. “Go take a nice hot shower, I’ll put them away.”

“I only bought a few frozen things, so you can join me in the shower.”

You giggle, “as tempting as that is, I’d really like you to warm up.”

He smirks and, before you can process, he scoops you up in his arms and throws you over his shoulder, his freezing shirt soaking you as you writhe and scream at the playful action. “Osamu!”

“Now you’re wet too. Come shower with me, and wash my hair.”

“You bought dairy,” you manage between titters, “I have to put it away.”

“So let’s put it away together. Then we can shower.”

“You’re so clingy!”

“Oh I’ll show you clingy.”

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noosayog · 1 year

Text

[baby fever] ft. miya osamu

wc: 400

iwa | ushijima | atsumu | sakusa | kageyama

You adjust the gemstone earrings as you finish up the final touches of your outfit. It’s been a really long time since Osamu has been free for date night and he was sweet enough to make reservations for tonight. You’re just about ready when he pops his head in to check on you.

“Ya ready, babe?”

“Just a sec!”

You grab your purse and make your way out. Osamu is waiting for you in the entryway, standing at his full height and dressed in a crisp, white button-up shirt. His usual attire of a plain black t-shirt is already enough to make you stare, but seeing the way his chest fills out the shirt and just the slightest bulge in his tummy makes you practically salivate.

Osamu doesn’t question the way you gape, only chuckling a bit and getting on his knees to slip your heels onto your feet. He plucks your purse out of your slack grip and slides it on his shoulder, holding a hand out to escort you.

You have heart eyes all night, keeping your gaze fixated on him instead of dinner. Osamu, a regular receiver of your stares, doesn’t seem to mind and simply opts to feed you bites of his dish when you remain still for too long.

At the end of the night, Osamu asks for the dessert menu and talks you through the options, pointing at the options he knows you would like.

You stop him though. You’ve been thinking about having a whole different nightcap all night. “Don’t want dessert, ‘Samu.”

“No?” he raises a brow, corner of lips curling upwards and thumb brushing over your pulse point.

“No,” you say.

“Why not?” he teases. “Not feelin’ well?” He puts a warm palm on your thigh, where 2 of his thick fingers slip just a centimeter under your dress.

“‘Samu,” you whine, but it comes out more of a gasp. You involuntarily push your thighs together.

He lets out a low laugh and squeezes your thigh once. When he takes his hand back, his vacated spot feels cold, and he gives your ring finger a kiss in condolence. “I’ll go pay. Be right back.”

When Osamu comes back, he helps you into your coat and easily grabs your hand to begin the short walk home. You’re silent on the walk, feeling hot. It doesn’t get better as Osamu breathes into your ear, grazes his hand around your hips, and pushes your bangs away every time the wind moves a single strand out of place.

He’s in an astronomically good mood and finally, you give him the stink eye. “You’ve been teasing all night,” you pout.

“I thought you liked it.”

You harrumph and mumble, “you won’t like it so much when we accidentally pop out a kid 9 months from now.”

He raises a brow, pressing your whole body closer to his side.

“Says who?”

#noos writes #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hq x y/n #hq x reader #hq x you #hq fluff #hq imagines #miya osamu #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x y/n #osamu miya #osamu miya fluff

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cottonlemonade · 23 days

Text

Strawberry Lotion

words: 546 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: aged up Osamu x chubby!Reader (feat. the Inferior Twin (affectionate))

genre: humor, April Fools, established relationship, suggestive fluff

warnings: mdni, mild suggestiveness

____________________________

You groaned when you slid the curtain to the side to find a brilliantly sunny day.

Your boyfriend Osamu, still sitting in bed, looked up from his phone with a questioning head tilt.

"It's a dress day. Ugh, I don't wanna shave my legs.", you pouted. Throwing your head back dramatically you shuffled to the bathroom.

Before closing the door, Osamu slipped in as well.

"Uhm.", you started tentatively, "This isn't usually a group activity, babe."

"Yeah I know, but I'm curious how girls shave. I've only had sneak peaks in razor ads, ya know?"

You sighed. "God, you hide it well, but you're an idiot."

Sitting on the corner of his bathtub, with your legs under the faucet you began the tedious process of removing the new stubble.

"Huh. That's a surprisin’ amount of acrobatics."

"It's just annoying cause it's not a 2 minute thing. It takes ages to get the whole leg and your skin gets all irritated and stuff. The only good thing is that my lotion smells like strawberries." (That and the feeling of rubbing your silky legs together like a cricket.)

Osamu perked up, knowing the one you‘re talking about. "Ya got it with ya?", he asked excitedly.

You nodded, resuming your task, feeling a little weird how he was staring at you. This wasn’t exactly the flattering image you wanted him to keep in his mind for a rainy day. When he didn‘t say anything else, you look up to find him with a wide smile of delighted anticipation.

"Guys.", an impatient knock and Atsumu‘s voice came through the door. "Sorry to interrupt, but will ya be done soon? There are other people livin’ here, too, Samu!"

"All done. One second, Tsumu!", you called.

Osamu wiggled his eyebrows suggestively when he passed his brother in the doorway heading back to his bedroom.

You rummaged in your bag for the lotion, taking out the small red tub.

"Can I do it?", Osamu offered, his voice filled with eagerness.

Swallowing a sarcastic reply, you just shrugged and sat back at the foot of the bed. Your boyfriend knelt down in front of you and set your foot on his thigh. Taking a generous dollop of lotion he began to massage your leg, setting kisses on the now smooth skin before covering it in the soothing light pink cream.

"Damn, ya smell so good." He winked and genuinely had to chew his lip to stop himself from parting your legs for him to dive between them, grabbing at your soft tummy. He was actually just about to ask if you wouldn‘t mind taking off your sleeping shorts so he “could get the whole leg“ when -

"What’re ya doin’?", Atsumu asked, confused, standing yet again in the open door, toothbrush hanging in his mouth.

"Makin’ a baby." Osamu deadpanned, not even looking at the blonde and resumed his work with great concentration.

"Wow, that smells real good."

"I know right, it even tastes like strawberry." The grey-haired twin held out the lotion tub and Atsumu stepped closer to sniff it quizzically.

“Really?“

“Sam-“

Your boyfriend gave your thigh a quick squeeze and winked as he watched with barely suppressed glee how his brother dipped a finger into the tub with the very non-edible lotion.

_________________________

#osamu miya x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #osamu x chubby reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu #haikyuu osamu #hq osamu #osamu miya #miya osamu fluff #haikyuu fluff #chubby reader #haikyuu x reader

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haikyu-mp4 · 16 days

Text

Break up with your bf

word count; 738 – f!reader

After high school, Osamu didn’t usually join Atsumu when he was going out despite the occasional invitation he received. However, every now and then he gave in and joined Atsumu with some of his friends, like this instance.

While he liked most of the people Atsumu played with, some of those he hung out with didn’t quite charm Osamu.

You’re not sure how your lowlife of a boyfriend became friends with a couple of professional volleyball players, but here you are. Your boyfriend brought you along to the bar again just to have you as his arm candy, but everyone could see how his eyes travelled to other women while he totally ignored you. You were getting bored, already feeling your interest in dating this guy reduced. He used to be quite sweet, but now you could see he was looking for someone better.

The lights were a little too wild and the music a bit too loud for you to just ignore his behaviour and do something else. You didn’t want to stoop to his level but you were really wasting a night, so for now you went to the bathroom. Your reflection stared back at you and looked straight-up bored. That’s quite enough, your boyfriend could find someone else to bring home tonight. Opening the bathroom door again with a new fire, you briskly walk out of the bathroom and almost reach the main room when you bump into someone.

Osamu let out a small ‘ouf’-sound and then chuckled, loosely grabbing your waist so you wouldn’t trip. You rested a hand on his chest and held your breath. “That’s some power, who are we beating up?” he joked. Your shoulders relaxed and you chuckled along with him, shaking your head before looking at him.

“Don’t worry about it, pretty boy,” you answered, returning some of the energy you felt from him.

“Really? I was hoping you’d say your boyfriend over there. Think me and my brother could take him.” he said, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of your group and dropping his hands from your waist.

When did he notice? You think back to the things your boyfriend did tonight right in front of the others. His hand on that one girl’s ass. The other girl he complimented while leaning over to the twins, one of whom had looked over at you while looking like a question mark. Your mind was telling you it was the one you were talking to now. You sighed in disbelief and considered whether or not you should answer. The music played over your heads and every other minute, someone would bump into either of you. The twins had introduced themselves at the pregame, talking to you for as long as their attention span could manage when the rest of the guys were trying to get them to drink. “Osamu, right?” he nodded, about to say something when you pretended to stretch your arms. “I’ll get him myself, but you’re welcome to join me when I leave,” you said.

“I’ll get our jackets,” he announced and you happily handed him your jacket number. With a new fire under your ass, you barged over to your group’s table, tapped your boyfriend on the shoulder and waited for him to turn around. Lucky for him, you weren’t actually going to beat him up, you were just tempted to.

Instead, you simply said “I’m breaking up with you,” before turning around and walking away. The bastard didn’t even attempt to stop you and Atsumu was cheering when you walked off.

Osamu waited by the entrance, a smirk growing on his face when he heard his brother’s cheers. “I take it that went well?” he asked and handed over your jacket.

“I want food.”

That’s how Osamu fell in love. And also how the two of you ended up at McDonalds. You stayed there for over an hour just talking and munching on your food, ex-boyfriend long since forgotten.

And maybe, though not if anybody asked, Osamu ended up in your bed the next morning. He’s holding his phone to his ear, listening as Atsumu told him about how the girl they talked to at the pregame had broken up with that idiot of a boyfriend she had, all while Osamu drew patterns on your bare back as you rested on his chest.

He’s glad he joined Atsumu for drinks, just this once.

masterlist

#miya osamu #haikyuu #haikyu #osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x you #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #fanfiction

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mavrintarou · 8 months

Text

[2:18 PM] Miya Osamu A/B/O

Hello - sorry for temporarily abandoning you all. I've been needing lots of motivation to finish WYE. Thought in the meantime, I could get reinspired again... and this is what I got. Completely smutty alpha Osamu.

Warning: My A/B/O works are never safe for work... completely explicit content that I'm wondering what is wrong with me lol. If you're new, do check out the other HQ and JJK A/B/O works too in my masterlist. .

Osamu sighed for the millionth time, running a hand through his gray mane. His dark brown-black roots were beginning to grow longer each day lately he has not cared to touch up the artificial color.

His mind has been preoccupied with Y/l/n Y/f/n.

Every second, minute, and hour of the day.

He has been making minor mistakes throughout the day, making his employees concerned.

His second in command had to kick him out, telling him to take a couple of days off.

“I can sort of detect your pheromones. Are going into a rut soon?” Hanzo asked, he is an alpha too.

Osamu groaned, losing track of his cycle. “Yeah, I’m due for it.” He stood up, “I should hurry and get out of here before I make the rest of you guys uncomfortable. Please take care of the restaurant for me, Hanzo.”

Hanzo saluted and watched his boss slip out the back door.

Osamu groaned as he ejaculated all over his hand for the second time. He barely made it through his apartment doors when he pulled his straining cock out to find relief.

His breath is uneven and he stumbled straight into the bathroom to wash his hands before searching for his medications. It felt different, stronger, and uncontrollable this time around.

His eyes widened when the cartridge was empty.

He couldn’t go out, shouldn’t go out when he couldn’t control his pheromone at the moment.

Osamu let out a deep breath, “I’ll be okay without them, I did fine last time.” The tiny voice in his head whispered, yeah, before you met Y/n.

His body was heating up, he fumbled to strip his black shirt off, tossing it on the ground as he stumbled into his bedroom. Immediately searched for the few clothing items she had left over at his place. The lightbulb in his head lit up when he remembered she tossed her worn dirty clothes in his hamper a few days ago. “Ah,” he sighed in relief and brought her panties to his nose, inhaling deeply.

His fist wrapped around his cock again and began pumping fast.

He needed Y/n.

Only her.

His cum shot out, dripping off his hand and onto the floor.

“’Samu?” He lifted his head, her panties still smothered against his nose. Was he hallucinating by seeing Y/n stand in the doorway?

He’s finally gone mad.

Osamu lifted one hand out towards her, his eyes hooded as he tried to focus them on her. “Y/n….” He sensed her hesitating and stumbled to stand back on his feet. His cock was still hard even after cumming three times, it bounced against his happy trail of hair. It was now thicker and longer than before. He was excited to see his Y/n. “Y/n… please… I need you.” His feet stumble as if he was drunk.

“Osamu,” she murmured, “you – you’re in your rut cycle…” her breathing became rugged as his pheromone began affecting her.

“I need – I need you…” he begged, “you’re the only one… I only want you… you my omega.”

Y/n flinched, choking on her breath as her body began to heat up. She gripped a hand over her heart, trying to control her breathing. “N – no…” Her knees trembled as she tried to press her thighs tightly together. The ache between her legs intensifies by the second. “’Samu…” she looked up and Osamu’s brown eyes were now golden-yellow, an obvious sign an alpha is in a full-blown rut.

“Y/n, my love,” he smiled, his voice full of sweetness, “my omega, right?” He cupped her cheek, his eyes shutting at skin-to-skin contact. He opened his eyes, “my omega, right, Y/n?”

She gripped his wrist, feeling his pheromone seeping through her skin. “Ye – yes… yours…”

“My what?”

Her other hand reached out to wrap around his cock, “your omega. I am your omega, alpha.”

His arm is around her tiny waist, tugging her against his chiseled body. Osamu’s mouth is on hers, tongue slipping past her lips to dance with hers. Her sweet moans ring like a melody and he wants to hear it for the rest of his life.

Osamu hoists Y/n up, carrying her to his bed. He set her back on her feet and began undressing her. His fingers working at a speed she couldn’t even keep track of which piece was coming off.

“’Samu,” she called his name softly, “I’m not going anywhere…” She placed a palm over his beating heart, feeling it thump. She released her pheromone and immediately felt him relax.

“More,” his voice is low and rough, he inhaled deeply.

Her pheromone mixed with his, creating a new euphoric ambiance.

“Ah!” Y/n gripped Osamu’s shoulders, being lifted off her feet again as he carried her to the middle of his bed. He gently placed her down on her back before pulling the remaining of his pants and boxer off.

Each time Osamu breathed, his cock twitched.

Y/n lift herself upward and reached for his cock, wrapping both hands around it and stroking it. “It’s bigger… than usual.” She glanced up at him with doe-like eyes, “will… it fit?”

The first time she took Osamu’s cock, she was nearly expanded beyond her imagination. It took a few times before her pussy finally molded to fit his cock.

The hint of pride was evident on Osamu’s smile, “it will fit, you were meant for me. You were meant to take my cock and you will take my knot too.”

“I’ve never been knotted before,” her statement was innocent but it was fuel to rile up Osamu. He was even more eager than ever to knot her at that moment.

His fingers brushed her hair out of the way before tilting her chin, “I will knot you as many times over until you become pregnant.” Something flickered in her eyes and Osamu pressed her onto her back, anchoring her petite small omega body beneath his large alpha body. “You are mine, Y/n, my omega… mine to fuck, to love, and to breed over and over… right?”

She bit down on her lower lip.

“Submit to me, Y/n,” he growled with a quiet but soft tone. “Say you’re mine to fuck, love, and breed.” His hand reached between her legs, and three of his thick fingers breached and penetrated her. Her tight walls hugged his fingers and he released more of his pheromone, instantly feeling her relax. They began thrusting in and out of her pussy, soaking his fingers to his knuckles before he slipped a fourth finger, making sure to stretch her wide for his rutted cock.

“Yes,” she murmured, her eyes shut as she fully submitted.

Osamu smiled widely, pecking her lips, “open your eyes and say it, tell me what I want to hear. Tell your alpha what he wants to hear…”

Her pussy clenched around his fingers hearing him speak in such a way. Her eyes opened and she gazed directly into his, her hand cupping his face. “I’m yours… yours to fuck… to love…”

“And breed?” He questioned, the tip of his nose trailing along her neck as he inhaled her scent emitted more sweetness than usual now that she had fully submitted to him. “I will breed you tonight, Y/n, take my word for it. You will never leave my home now without my scent on you, everyone will know you are mine.” His teeth bared, hovering over the sweat glands. “I will mark you mine for eternity. I will make you pregnant by the end of the night.” Her pussy fluttered around his fingers, and he pulled them out, coating her essence on his cock. “Answer me, Y/n.”

“Yes, breed me. Mark me… I’m yours. All yours.” She lifted her hip, “fuck me, ‘Samu… I need you…”

Osamu grabbed his aching cock and pressed it to her pulsing entrance before thrusting fully deep inside her. His head is thrown back as he groans her name. “Fuck, you’re so tight… so tight for me.” His fingers gripped her waist as his hips began moving in a steady rhythm.

His eyes lazily gaze down, mesmerized at how his thick cock would appear and disappear in her sweet pussy. Because it was his rut-cock, his size was enormous than usual, allowing him to see a visible outline where his cock was nestling inside of her. This was his first time seeing her belly bulge form from his cock.

Osamu admit he had a thick and long cock, and during his rut cycle, the size increased twice as much. He enjoyed watching his past partners struggle to take him and get off from the size of his cock. His size kink increased until he met Y/n.

She was the smallest of his partners. Rather than finding joy and excitement like he normally would, Osamu was nervous that Y/n wouldn’t be able to take his size. She struggled to take his cock the first time even when he took it slow and tried to be as gentle as possible. Though she was in pain, she still encouraged him to continue. Osamu had never felt the unfamiliar spark in his heart for someone until her.

She was the first person he held afterward, refusing to let her leave. When he woke up, she was gone with no trace at all. He did not know where to even start to search for her. They had encountered each other at one of those weekend events that alphas and omegas attended to search for their next cycle partner.

Osamu couldn’t take his eyes off her when she entered the room with two other girls. Her hair was in a high bun and she wore a simple dress that came down to her knees. They finally made eye contact from across the room and she winked at him before looking away.

That was Osamu’s cue to make the move.

He attended the next event, in hopes of running into her again but he was let down by the end of the night.

Weeks later he succumbed to a deep despair. His employees tipped toed around him, feeling like he was a ticking time bomb. No one knew what to do or how to help their boss.

Until their blessing entered the shop…

The onigiri slipped from Osamu’s hand and everyone stared at him confused and before anyone could ask him what was wrong, he was out of the kitchen. They all scurried after him and peeked through the curtains to see what startled him.

Standing before their boss was a pretty omega, staring at him with the same shocked expression. Her expression softened and she smiled, “hey, you.”

Osamu truly believed Y/n was his fated partner. She had been looking for him as well.

“I regretted leaving, I’ve never experienced such emotions and left my heart with you that night.” She cupped his face later that day, bringing him in for a deep kiss. “I don’t want to be without you again.”

They got to get to know one another, the proper way. Osamu took her out on dates and after the fourth one, he officially asked her out.

He was dying by the second as she teased him, contemplating on his offer before saying yes.

“Only if you make me cum,” she teased against his lips.

And he did, thrice.

“’Samu,” Y/n mewed, grabbing his wrists. Osamu is a master of her body, inside and out. He knew when she was ready to cum. “’Samu… please.”

“You ready to cum, baby?” he cooed, fastening his pace. He spread her legs wider, pushing her knees into the mattress. He shifted over her, slamming his cock deep and hard, his room echoing with skin on skin. He had control over her body, he has trained her to only cum on his command. Her walls began to tighten around his cock and her moans amplifies. “Okay, you can cum… cum for me…”

As soon as her pussy wall tightens and trembles around his cock, his cock explodes, shooting his thick load of seed into her womb.

He withdraws gently, watching his seed gush out like a waterfall instantly. Osamu quickly flipped her over, shifting her lower body upward. His cock is impaling her once again.

“’Samu – oh! Wait…” Y/n reached a hand behind to push against his abdomen but it was futile. He gripped her hips tightly, pounding into her from behind at a faster speed than seconds ago.

He leaned forward, his large frame easily towering over her. He licked her shoulder blade up to the sweet gland that was now emitting a heady aroma, one that was causing his mouth to water.

Osamu’s hands found her small ones and he threaded his fingers through hers, “need to mark you…”

Though he just came, he was ready for a second round. He spread her thighs wider, angling her so that he could reach her cervix. He groaned when the tip of his cock pushed against the secret opening of her cervix. “Need to knot… need to knot my omega…”

The cervix opening had the ability to stimulate the tip of an alpha’s cock. The tip becomes redder, and thicker to be able to lock the potent seed in the womb to ensure breeding was successful.

To prove, Osamu winced when the tip of his cock enlarges, he felt every ridge of Y/n’s pussy walls.

Y/n felt it herself, she whimpered into his pillow, her thighs widening and hips lifted to find comfort in the bulbous tip enlarging inside of her. She can feel it poking her cervix entrance, simulating and forcing entry.

As soon as the tip broke the barrier and her cervix opened allowing entrance, his knot inflated and filled her womb. Osamu took the opportunity to sink his teeth into her skin, over the sweet gland, breaking the skin so his essence could now mix with hers.

This will tie her forever to him.

It is natural her body will fight against him, he quickly shifted them onto their side, lifting her leg over his to keep pressure off the knot. His cock was still ejaculating, filling her womb beyond its limit. Glancing over, he can see her lower belly bulging almost as if she was already pregnant.

“Shh, it's okay,” he cooed, he licked her mark to cool the broken skin. He released his pheromone to calm her down.

Once mated, an alpha’s pheromone can provide more than before. It is the only medicine that will help their omega.

Her whimpers quieted down but she hugged his arm tightly. “It hurts…” she murmured, “too much…”

“I know, baby. I know. I’m sorry. You will get used to it. Only you can handle my knot. Only you…” He kissed her temple. They lay there in silence, just enjoying the quietness of each other’s breathing. “I love you.” He had yet to speak those words to her, but he felt this was a perfect time to tell her. “I think I have loved you from the first time I met you.”

Y/n kissed his bicep, “I love you too, Miya Osamu.” The romantic moment was ruined when his hand began to fondle her breast. She playfully slapped his hand but it remained, he squeezed them, sending a jolt down to her pussy. “Stop…”

Osamu groaned, feeling her squeezing around his sensitive cock. “I didn’t get to give them attention today,” he reached to cup the other side, flickering her perky nipple.

“Leave my small tits alone,” she demanded, yet moaning and squirming under his touch.

His knot had slightly deflated but she was still extremely uncomfortable from being plugged up with his cum.

“I love your small tits,” he kissed her neck, making sure to lick her mark. “It’s my third favorite thing about you.”

“Third?”

“Yep, first is your face, second is your pussy and third are your small tits.”

Y/n burst out laughing. “Well, I hear they do get bigger… once I become pregnant.”

One of Osamu’s hand slides down her front and rest against her bulging belly. “Yes, I promised I’ll breed you until you’re pregnant.” He tugged her closer, spooning her small frame. “They will get bigger with milk for you to feed me.”

“You?” she laughed.

“Well, one side, the baby will have to share one side with me.”

Weeks later, she found out she was expecting twins.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to eat your pussy while you breastfeed them.”

. . .

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

E/n: he sooooo nasty I love it.

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu miya osamu #miya osamu smut #miya osamu fluff #osamu smut #osamu miya #osamu x reader #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x y/n #osamu a/b/o #haikyuu a/b/o #alpha beta omega

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tsukkiibaby · 5 months

Text

voice;

feat: miya osamu

genre/warnings: sfw, fluff, royal!au (i'm trying here so don't judge), guard!osamu x princess!reader, one character looking down reader's dress

wc: 2900+

. ｡˚others may not be able to tell the difference between the miya twins, especially with their helmets on, but you can˚｡ .

osamu knows this is a bad idea.

he’s at atsumu’s post, standing still at the top of steps that lead to the gardens looking straight ahead at them, atsumu himself on the other end of the lavish fields, the two watching intently for intruders, or anyone who could pose as a potential threat. if any of the palace’s staff were to walk by, they would barely spare osamu another glance - with his helmet on, no one can see his tufts of gray hair underneath, their only other determining physical feature being their eyes, and he’s sure that none of the staff would even be able to recognize the that difference between himself and his brother.

except you.

currently out in the gardens with one of the princes from a neighboring kingdom, nohebi, he thinks, a grim expression painting your face from the moment your father whisked you towards the front entrance of the palace to greet him. osamu didn’t particularly like the smug smile plastered across the black-haired prince’s face as he exited his carriage, nor did he miss the way the man’s snake-like eyes stared down the top of your dress as you greeted him with a curtsy. from his position at the top of the steps to the palace, osamu could only watch in disgust as he sauntered by him and his twin to follow you and your parents into the palace.

while osamu still would have been able to see you from his original post that atsumu is occupying, his current spot on the outskirts of the palace gives him a higher, better view of you and the sly prince. he can see you clearly as you move throughout the gardens a few paces ahead of nohebi’s crown prince, gaining traction as you lead the man further towards osamu’s normal post. should things go wrong and someone spots them, he supposes he could just blame it on atsumu. they are twins, after all. and it was his idea, his brother jabbing at his bicep with his elbow as they watched you and the prince retreat towards the doors that led to the garden. “ya wanna take my spot on the steps?” he had whispered, leaning into his brother’s body. “might be a little easier for ya ta keep an eye on her.”

but he knows you wouldn’t fall for the “atsumu started it!” excuse. they’ve been your guards since the age of 13, hand selected by your parents, the king and queen, to watch over you as you begin to age into your teens, wanting extra protection for their youngest daughter. their only princess.

you didn’t have any objections to it, not when both of your brothers had been assigned personal guards when they first reached double digits. you couldn’t imagine seeing your brothers without aran and kita a few paces behind them, their protective eyes always ensuring you were also safe within their line of sight. just as they protected your brothers, they protected you as you grew, right up until you reached the same age and were to be granted your own protection. enter the twins.

hailing from a small village in the vast kingdom of inarizaki, the same village that aran and kita grew up in, it seemed as though the twins were raised for the job from the second they arrived at the palace. you remember seeing them hang around with the two older boys from a young age, tirelessly training with the other guards and knights from sunrise to sunset; neither twin faltering under the intense pressure they were faced with. surely they never knew who or what they would be tasked with protecting until their assignment when they became of age, but the two were dedicated to their craft, hell bent on proving their worth to the royal family. luckily (and unbeknownst) for them, they proved their worth from the first time you saw them.

“i hope i’m not assigned to guard the princess.” one boy groans.

someone else chuckles. “yeah, me and you both.”

from your hiding spot behind one of the many large columns lining the outskirts of the palace near the training grounds, you feel your heart drop, and you sink back to fully hide behind the massive beam. you try not to let the words of some silly guards - some silly boys, that is, bother you. it always seemed to be like this - no matter how many guards your family brings in to train as personal protection, they never seemed to have any interest in protecting you, instead choosing to help protect your brothers, parents, or simply going off to serve in the kingdom’s military.

“why not?” another voice pipes up, his tone almost accusing? when you peer back around the column, you see one of the group of boys standing with his arms crossed, a stark contrast to the rest of them, scattered and sitting on the steps. though not facing you directly, you were able to catch a glimpse of his blonde hair before he stepped in front of one of his fellow guards in training. “ya don’t wanna be around the princess?”

another boy, sitting on the bottom step, huffs. “it’s not like she even needs the extra protection,” he laughs wryly. “at least the princes get to practice sparring and fighting! all she does is sit in the palace, attend her lessons, and play in the garden. it’s boring.” he puts emphasis on the word boring, almost spits it.

gripping on to the ridges of the column, you push your head a bit further out to see more of the boys and their conversation, a scowl on your face. another stands quietly, moving to stand next to the blonde and mimics his actions, crossing his arms over his chest. he turns to face the the other boys who were sitting, cocking his head to the side. “it’d be an honor to protect the princess,” he says pointedly. “ya don’t know how lucky ya’d be.”

with a sharp turn, the boy begins to walk off, in your direction no less, ignoring the frantic shouts of what you assume must be his name. “samu!” the blonde boy calls, but it does him no good. the gray-haired boy ignores him, stalking past you without so much of a glance, his matching gray eyes staring straight ahead. the blonde, who looks eerily similar to the one he was calling after, comes running after him.

if only you knew that in just a few short hours, the two boys who came to your defense would soon be tasked with protecting you daily.

from his spot at the top of the steps, osamu can just quite make out the top of your head as you stroll through the gardens, a few paces ahead of the black-haired prince. no matter how quickly the man walks, he can’t seem to catch up to you, not when you spin around and speed up through the lush fields to evade his ever present hands reaching out to grasp your arm. though quite far away, osamu can see how frustrated prince daishou is getting, pausing briefly to take a deep breath before following after you. osamu chuckles to himself.

as you and the prince disappear further into the tall hedges, osamu hopes that at least atsumu or one of the other guards patrolling the lawn has an eye on you. these meetings tend to go the same way every time - your parents arrange for a prince, or duke, or nobleman from a neighboring territory to come to the palace and get to know you, to escort you through the gardens, and pitch themselves as to why they would make a suitable husband and possible future king. to secure some sort of political alliance. however it always ends with you giving your parents an indifferent smile and a shrug, much to their chagrin. too tall, talks too much, bad breath, it doesn’t matter. your excuses are endless.

osamu can’t wait to hear what you have to say about this one.

though tasked with ensuring your safety, the twins eventually found a way to weasel themselves into a more casual relationship with you. with atsumu’s overbearing and childish nature and osamu’s calm and collected one, you had almost no choice but to allow the informalities, finding yourself more and more lax in their presence. always quick to defend your status or position to outsiders, ready to help at the lift of a finger, and even popping their heads in and out of obligations that you dread, ready to whisk you away with a claim of someone important needing you, the princess, right away. and who are your guests to deny your excusal? you are the princess, after all. ever perceptive, the two seem to know exactly what you’re thinking at all times.

almost always.

osamu didn’t realize how much he must’ve been daydreaming. not until he feels a rush of air and the sounds of heels clicking down the marble floor of the palace invade his senses, snapping his attention back to the scene unfolding before him. his eyes fly into the palace to follow the sound of the heels, the back of your long, lavender dress swaying behind as you angrily stomp down the halls.

“lady l/n!”

prince suguru is quick, but osamu is quicker, stepping in front of the swift man to stop him from following after you. it’s not like you to rush out of something with no say, not without himself or his brother pulling something out of their asses. the prince sneers down at him, snake-like eyes narrowing at him. he moves to step around osamu, but he’s right there, blocking his path again. “will you get out of the way?” the prince spits.

osamu opens his mouth to speak, but atsumu is quick to beat him to it. “as the princess’s personal guards, i’m afraid we can’t do that,” he says from behind the prince, who scoffs at him. atsumu flashes them a sly grin, jutting his chin down the halls you had just passed through, eyes drifting to his twin. “you go find lady l/n and make sure she’s okay.”

the words are barely out of atsumu’s mouth before osamu is all but running down the hallway in the direction of your clicking heels, eyes darting around the palace quickly. it’s not long before he catches up with you, slowing to match your pace a few steps behind you and stands up straight, gently clearing his throat. “my lady-”

“i do not feel very well, my lord.” the words are rushed coming out of your mouth at the same time that osamu speaks, a stark contrast to your normal speech patterns, always so eloquent and concise. you stick your right hand out a bit behind you, not quite far enough to reach osamu, and your voice is shaky as you speak again. “i must ask that you allow me to retire to my room at once to rest.”

osamu’s steps quicken until he’s walking backwards in front of you, arms reaching out gently in your direction. “it is only me, princess,” he says, louder than before, letting out a soft breath when your steps slow until they stop completely. you glance up, allowing your eyes to meet for a brief moment before they dart back down to your shoes.

“osamu,” you whisper, your eyes avoidant. you pause, your chest rising and falling at a faster rate than normal. “i need to rest.”

you begin to walk again, passing him, and he lets you get a few steps down the hall before he’s turning and following you slowly. “i understand, my lady. but one of us must accompany you at all times.”

huffing, you glance over your shoulder with a slight pout as the two of you approach the door to your room. “at all times,” you mutter softly, before turning to the guard at your door with a blank smile. “i’m not feeling too well, so i must ask that you allow me some privacy while i rest.”

osamu smiles wryly at the guard as he passes, allowing you a few moments in your room before he steps inside. “is everything alright, my lady?” his gray eyes follow you as you pace around the room, fiddling with the decorative clip that pins up your hair. your back to him, you don’t turn, other hand reaching up to play with the strap of your day dress. he steps in further, shutting the wooden door behind him, and you whip to face him immediately, taking a tentative back. “princess, are you alright?” he repeats. “did something happen with prince suguru?”

your eyes meet his when he says the prince’s name, and osamu slowly reaches up to remove his helmet, not breaking eye contact. now given full view of his face, you glance down at your shaky hands. “one of us must accompany me at all times, huh?” you ask, repeating what you had said under your breath just outside your room. “why weren’t you at your normal post?”

he pauses, eyebrows furrowing. “what do you mean?”

you exhale through your nose, meeting his gaze once again. “my parents and the others may not be able to, but i can tell your voices apart,” you mumble, crossing your arms and looking back down at your feet. “that creep of a prince was looking down the top of my dress the whole day and the second he figured he was out of your sights he thought he’d try to stick a hand down it.” your voice increases as you speak, throwing your arms out at the end. “and when i loudly asked him to step back, it wasn’t your voice that called out to me asking if i needed assistance, it was atsumu’s.”

osamu is frozen in front of you. sure, his normal post is stationed at the first fork in the gardens, much closer to you in proximity than atsumu’s, but he was sure that the higher ground of his twin’s post gave him a better way to keep an eye on you as you moved further into the gardens. now, he feels like a fool for going through with such a silly thought.

“i was only trying to have a clearer view on you, princess,” osamu takes a hesitant step closer to you, and another when you do not flinch or back away. with a deep breath, he continues. “i’d like to think i have better eyesight than my brother.” falling back to sit on the chaise situated at the foot of your bed, you exhale sharply through your nose, and osamu can’t tell if it’s to express amusement or distaste. though, with the way you’re still avoiding his watchful eye is having him lean towards the latter. he takes another step forward, then another, until he’s but a large stride away from your seated figure. “can i ask why you were so disheartened to hear atsumu’s voice instead of mine, princess?” he asks, not missing the way your fingers, currently lightly rubbing at your temples, freeze in their actions. “surely, he is just as capable of protecting you.”

your hands find refuge in your lap, fingers fiddling with each other as you straighten your posture. “o-of course he is.” you rebuke, turning your head slightly so that you’re staring out the window. “i was simply asking a question. you’re lucky no one noticed that you two were at different posts. you both could have gotten into trouble.”

osamu chuckles softly, taking another step towards you, finally drawing your attention back to him. your lips part slightly as you slowly glance up at him, and the corners of osamu’s perk up at the sight of your soft gaze. “well, it’s just like you said princess,” he coos, and your eyebrows furrow, cocking your head to the side. “you’re the only one who can tell us apart by just our voices.” osamu’s voice drops as the words leave his lips, stepping back towards the door as your eyes shoot back towards him.

your mouth drops fully open as if to speak, but no words come out. osamu can’t help but feel warm at the sight of your reddening cheeks, struggling to find the words “w-well, of course i c-can!” you sputter. “i’ve known you both for years! i, um, didn’t want you to get into trouble with anyone.”

the warmth in his chest spreads, and osamu hums softly to himself. “i appreciate the concern, my lady. allow me to go find atsumu and ensure that prince suguru is dealt with accordingly.” you nod quickly, eyes trained on your hands in your lap. “you should rest, princess.” you nod, but make no effort to move. “i will return once he is dealt with.”

and after personally escorting prince daishou suguru of nohebi to his carriage with atsumu, osamu does return, only to find you asleep in the same lavender dress, hair sprawled across the array of decorative pillows that you hadn’t even bothered to move before making yourself comfortable on top of your fully made bed. osamu chuckles to himself, gently pulling at the blanket that sits at the end of your bed, far enough away from your feet that it lays untouched. he drapes it over your sleeping figure, ensuring that your arms, legs, and feet are covered before a soft smile spreads across his face. hesitantly, his fingers reach out towards your face, slowly brushing away a piece of hair splayed across your cheek, breath catching in his throat when you let out a soft whine. however, you don’t move, nor do you say anything, your chest continuing to rise and fall with your even breaths, and osamu lets out a sigh of relief, a smile poking at his lips.

“sleep well, princess.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu fluff #miya osamu fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #osamu x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

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narumi-gens · 10 months

Text

Platonic

Miya Osamu x f!Reader

summary: Osamu knows that there’s nothing going on between you and his brother. And yet, he still can’t help but be jealous.

warnings: minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, don't let the summary fool you – this is basically just 4k words of fluff, jealous!osamu, slightly insecure!osamu, married!osamu, dad!osamu, very normal relationship problems, the importance of communication, kita is always the voice of wisdom, osamu is really just a simp for you, reader and osamu are #CoupleGoals

notes: whenever I’m trying to get back into writing, stealing plots from sitcoms is always a guarantee so everything from the title to the banner to the plot is at least 80% lifted from platonic (which is such a wonderful show).

words: 4k

part of the Meet the Miyas series

Osamu is jealous. And he hates it. He hates the word. He hates the feeling. He hates what it says about him. He really hates how irrational it is.

But what he hates most is that the person that he's jealous of is his own brother (that scrub).

But maybe he's the scrub. Because it's dumb. You've been together for years. You trust him. You love him. You're committed to him. You're married to him. You’re the mother of his child. You're happy with the life that you've built together.

And he knows that Atsumu is your best friend. You were Atsumu's friend before he even met you. Atsumu is the one who introduced the two of you, who set you up — which he'll never stop taking credit for if his speech at your wedding was anything to go by. So of course you spend a significant amount of time with his twin.

It’s never really bothered him before. If anything, he’s typically relieved that you’re so close with Atsumu. The more you occupy the setter’s time, the less time he has to annoy Osamu.

And you’re allowed to have friends and a life outside of being a wife and mother. He wants you to have fun and to be your own person outside of your relationship with him. He doesn’t expect you to go from home to work and back to repeat the cycle all over again the next day. Not that you would ever allow it.

It wasn’t easy and it took a lot of hard work, but over the years, the two of you have built a happy balance between him running the restaurant, you pursuing your own thriving career, being doting parents to a three-year-old son, and still managing to keep your marriage healthy. So this gross feeling of jealousy has no place in his life, especially where Atsumu is concerned.

But it creeps up on him slowly, needling its way into him before he even has a chance to stop it. He first feels it over something so small that it embarrasses him.

He asks you if you want to go see a new movie that’s been advertised for months. His mom and yours are always eager to babysit — sometimes eager to the point of forcing you both out of the house for what’s declared “much-needed grandparent time.”

“Oh, I promised Atsumu that I’d see it with him,” you reply with a slight tilt of your head before picking up your phone. “Let me check with him about us all going together.”

It’s a simple and obvious solution. You’ve already sent your message to Atsumu and are looking up showtimes for that weekend. But there’s a small voice in the back of Osamu’s head insisting that you should be asking him if Atsumu can come with the two of you, not the other way around. The unfamiliar thought makes him feel uncomfortable and he quickly shoves it away.

But just that small, intrusive voice is like a spark and it isn’t long before he finds himself hearing it again, fanning the pathetic, weak flame into something stronger.

One morning, he’s pulled from sleep by the blankets lifting and the mattress dipping. When he cracks open a bleary eye, he sees you doing your best to slip into bed without disturbing him. He can’t check the time on his phone without giving away that you’ve already woken him up. But from the pale grey light of early morning that’s already beginning to brighten the bedroom and the fact that Reiji isn’t already awake, Osamu guesses that it’s between five and six.

He knows that you had plans with Atsumu last night. You told him that you would probably be back late. But “back late” feels like an understatement considering the joys of parenthood usually have both of you up in about an hour whether it’s a workday or not.

When you come down a few hours later, the bags under your eyes and unkempt hair point to your inability to sleep in even after what he can only assume was an all-night rager. You pepper your son’s cheeks with exaggerated kisses that have him giggling over his breakfast as Osamu pours you a cup of what he’s sure is much-needed coffee.

“Ya got home late last night,” he comments as you take the mug that he passes you.

“Ah, yeah. Just ended up going a little harder than I meant to,” you reply and something close to embarrassment seems to cross your features. You glance at Reiji, making sure his attention is on his food before you lower to voice to a furtive whisper. “I threw up in a karaoke room and had to sleep it off at Atsumu’s.”

His immediate instinct is to laugh in your face and he has to bite his lips and quickly look away from you to keep from doing so. You weakly punch his shoulder in response before sitting down at the table.

But the amusement at your misfortune slowly starts to fade, replaced instead by that same voice, which is growing steadily more familiar. He can’t remember the last time that the two of you had a night like that together. He tries to think back on if it was before or after Reiji was born. And while you certainly don’t make vomiting in karaoke rooms a habit, it’s not at all rare for you and his brother to have a wild night out.

When the voice asks why you’re having them with Atsumu but not with him, the only thing he can focus on is the knot in the pit of his stomach and how it only seems to grow tighter.

He hears it again when he’s with Atsumu one day and he asks Osamu what he thinks about you rejecting a new job offer. The question is offhanded — he’s looking at his phone when asks it, barely even giving Osamu a fraction of his attention.

But Osamu freezes. This is the first that he’s heard about any job offer. He didn’t even know that you were interviewing somewhere else.

“What job offer?” His voice sounds thin and Atsumu seems to realize that he’s unintentionally stumbled into something much bigger because his thumb stops scrolling and there’s a line of tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there only moments ago.

“Uh, it’s nothin’ big,” he quickly tries to assure his brother as he puts down his phone and turns to face him fully. “It just happened this week. Some new place made her an offer and she turned it down.”

Osamu merely hums, his expression betraying nothing, but his twin brother knows him too well.

“Look, I’m sure she just hasn’t gotten ‘round to telling ya,” he offers and Osamu can see the slight panic in his eyes. “She had that big meeting. And she’s been lookin’ after Reiji-kun since he’s been sick, right? Things’ve probably just been too crazy fer her to even think about it.”

Every excuse only digs the hole deeper. It’s not just this apparent job that you’ve been pursuing only to turn down that Atsumu knows about. It’s also your hectic work week and how you’ve been taking care of Reiji since the restaurant’s been too shorthanded for Osamu to stay home.

What’s next? Is he going to mention that you’ve also been so busy the two of you haven’t had sex in almost three weeks? From the guilty look in his twin’s eyes, Osamu would bet good money that he’s already aware.

On his way home, he tries to think about the best way to raise the subject with you and ultimately decides that there’s no good way to ask, “Hey. Why are ya tellin’ Tsumu things but not yer husband?”

(He knows that’s definitely the wrong way to phrase it, but that little voice won’t say it any other way.)

But when he enters your bedroom he finds you slouched against the headboard, fully passed out with Reiji sprawled on top of you as he clings to you even in his sleep. The light and tv are both still on. You’re obviously exhausted and stretched thin, while Osamu is looking to pick a fight. The guilt he feels is almost crippling.

It probably hasn’t even occurred to you to mention the job offer with everything else going on. Atsumu is right, which only makes him feel worse.

He comes toward the both of you and carefully tries to pick Reiji up out of your arms without waking either of you. But he’s only just managed to pry the sick toddler loose when your eyelids flutter open.

It takes you a moment to register what’s happening, still feeling the dregs of sleep, but when you do, you give him the softest smile and it makes him feel like an even bigger piece of shit.

“Did you just get home?” you whisper as you help him lift Reiji off of you. But before he can take your son too far away, you shift over and gesture for Osamu to place him in the middle of the bed. “He’ll cry if he wakes up in his room alone.”

“He doin’ any better?” Osamu quietly asks and does as you ask, gently putting him down before sitting down on your other side on the edge of the mattress.

“His fever broke a couple of hours ago, so he should be back to normal in a day or two.” The news is a visible relief to you. It’s not just the amount of effort a sick child takes, but also the worry that’s been weighing you down.

“Wish I coulda been ‘round more to help ya,” he tells you, his guilt about both doubting you and leaving you to take care of Reiji by yourself beginning to peek through.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you assure him, lifting a hand to run your fingers through his hat hair. “I know that you’re in a bind since Kimura-san quit. I’m the one with the flexible hours and schedule. I really don’t mind. We’re a team.”

He doesn’t deserve you.

“Well, the new part-timer starts next week so things’ll finally calm down,” he offers and something mischievous sparkles in your tired eyes.

“Good. Because when you can finally take some time off, we’re gonna pawn Reiji off on the grandparents. Then you’re gonna make it up to me by spending the entire night making me cum so hard I see stars,” you tell him, your tone leaving no room for argument, as if he would ever want to.

“I can do that,” he agrees with a grin.

“We haven’t fucked in weeks,” you pout and Osamu can’t hold in his laughter, only for you to slap a hand over his mouth to keep him from waking up Reiji.

Your own quiet giggles are able to momentarily drown out the small voice reminding him about the job offer that you’ve yet to tell him about.

But a few weeks later, even after having the house to yourselves for an entire weekend and spending it fucking on every surface that you could like you used to do before Reiji came along, those embarrassing feelings of jealousy are still as present as ever.

You post a series of photos of you and Atsumu at a restaurant. The first picture is of your happy, smiling faces and the matching pair of five-pound gyoza on the table, one in front of each of you. As he swipes through the series, you both look worse and worse as you try to finish your gyoza. When he gets to the final one, you’re proudly holding a certificate from the restaurant for having finished yours in an hour, while Atsumu looks like he’s on death’s doorstep.

He’s so preoccupied swiping back and forth through the photos that when the restaurant door slides open, it startles him so badly that he almost drops his phone entirely. He doesn’t know whether or not to be relieved that it’s Kita coming to drop off a new order of rice rather than a customer who didn’t read the closed sign.

On one hand, he doesn’t want to deal with a customer while he’s in the midst of indulging that voice that’s slowly becoming a companion. But on the other, dealing with Kita when he’s in a jealousy spiral is even worse.

“Is everything alright? Ya look like ya just got some bad news,” Kita observes with a small frown of concern.

As Osamu assures him that nothing’s wrong, he tries to hurriedly shove his phone into the pocket of his apron. However, it slips from his sweaty hands and skids across the floor of the restaurant where it comes face-up to a perfect stop right in front of Kita’s feet.

He picks it up and when he sees the final picture of you and Atsumu on the screen, he shakes his head in amusement.

“Atsumu only sent me the picture of them at the start of the challenge,” he wryly says as he slides the restaurant door shut behind him and joins Osamu at the counter. He takes a moment to swipe through the rest of the photos in your post before passing the phone back. “I’m surprised ya didn’t go with ‘em.”

“I wasn’t invited,” he mumbled, vocalizing the bitter thought that’s been taking up so much space in his mind ever since you and Atsumu originally made the plans. But as soon as the words leave his lips, he knows he’s given himself away because he can feel Kita’s heavy gaze on him.

“Did ya ask if ya could join ‘em?” is Kita’s annoyingly reasonable response. After a few moments, Osamu gives the smallest shake of his head, confirming that no, he didn’t ask if he could go with you and his brother.

“Y’know, yer wife is an amazing woman,” he finally says when it’s clear Osamu has nothing else to offer. “But fer all of her talents, she’s not a mind reader. Just talk to her.”

Osamu groans loudly at how rational Kita is being. He drops his head down to rest his forehead on the countertop, his Onigiri Miya hat flopping off in the process. While he agrees that it’s good advice, there’s still one problem.

“Kita-san…it’s embarrassing,” he protests childishly and he turns his head to the side to look up at his old team captain. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Stop spendin’ so much time with that scrub!’ I’ll sound like an idiot.”

“Just talk to her,” Kita repeats calmly and Osamu can only sigh. “Why don’t ya tell me how Reiji-kun’s been?”

For the rest of the day, Osamu finds himself trapped in an internal debate over whether or not he should take Kita’s advice. The ugly voice in his head insists that he shouldn’t have to say anything at all. If you really love him then you should already know. The more self-conscious part of him keeps warning him of how embarrassed he’ll be when he tells his wife, the mother of his child, the love of his life, that he’s jealous of how much time she spends with his brother.

But a new voice, one that sounds exactly like Kita, simply asks him if he’s tired of feeling like this. Does he really want to keep harboring this resentment? It’ll only continue to fester and grow until it explodes, hurting everyone he loves.

So that night, after he’s put Reiji to bed and the dishes are done and the laundry is folded and he has no more excuses left to procrastinate, he collapses next to you on the couch with an exaggerated sigh. You look up at him from your phone with an amused smile, only for it to slightly fall when you see how troubled he looks.

“What’s going on? Did something happen at work?” you ask, turning to give him your full attention and scooting closer to him so that you can rest a gentle hand on his thigh.

He shuts his eyes and gives himself a single moment to steel himself before finally letting out the poison that’s slowly been building inside of him for the last few months.

“I have somethin’ to tell ya and it’s gonna make it seem like I’m fifteen or somethin’,” he says and he knows that if he didn’t sound so serious then you would be making a joke about him having some sort of wet dream and ruining the sheets. Instead, you give his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

“Lately…fer the last few months…I’ve been feelin’ kinda…jealous.”

There. The words are out there in the world. You’ve heard them. He can go crawl into a hole and wait for the embarrassment to kill him.

“Jealous? Of what?”

He hates how concerned you sound. You’re not making light of his admission. You’re not confused. You’re being patient. You’re gentle. You’re so much better than him and his childish pettiness and resentment and jealousy.

“You and stupid Tsumu,” he grumbles, slouching down even further into the couch. He glances over at you from the corner of his eye and sees the look of surprise on your face. He shuts his eyes again, balling his hands into fists, and tells himself to man the fuck up.

With his nerves now steeled, he takes a deep breath, sits up straight, and turns to fully face you.

“Look, I know that ya got this weird friendship with Tsumu and that he’s yer best friend. And it’s never been a big deal before, but lately, I dunno…,” he trails off, his gaze darting down before he forces it back up to meet yours. “I’ve just been feelin’ a little…cut out.”

“Osamu,” you murmur, lifting a hand to his face but he quickly takes it between both of his so that he can hold it tight and keep himself steady.

“I love you and our family and the life we’ve built together. I wouldn’t change any of it fer anything,” he’s quick to assure you, needing you to know that you make him happier than he ever thought he could be. “But sometimes I see ya hangin’ out with Tsumu and havin’ fun and it sounds dumb but, I wish I could see more of that part of yer life.”

You softly repeat his name before you climb into his lap. You wrap an arm around his shoulders to hold him close and pull your other hand from his grasp so that you can cup his cheek with a loving touch.

“I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel that way,” you tell him. “You’re always gonna come first. I don’t ever want you to feel excluded or like I’m trying to keep the different pieces of my life compartmentalized.”

Just hearing your apology and acknowledgment of the irrational jealousy that’s been plaguing him soothes his insecurities and embarrassment.

“I want ya to be able to go do things on yer own and do things with Tsumu without feelin’ like ya gotta bring me along every time. But ya just look like yer havin’ fun when yer gettin’ up to stupid things together and I guess, I just wanna have fun with ya too,” he shrugs. Despite how true it is, he hates how cheesy he sounds. But from the way that you’re looking at him with so much affection, you clearly find it touching.

“I love having fun with you, Osamu,” you smile back at him and his cheeks start to feel warm. “I’d love to do more stupid things with you.”

“Even if that stupid thing is spendin’ 20,000 yen at an arcade to beat a bunch of teens for the high score?” he asks and it comes out shyer than he intended. “Or buyin’ out every flavor of chips and every type of snack from the konbini just to rank ‘em?”

“Even then,” you nod with a grin. “Even if it’s needing to make a cab pull over to throw up after a night of drinking.”

“I thought it was the karaoke room?” he frowns in confusion.

“It was the karaoke room for me. The cab was Atsumu,” you tell him with a laugh and he snorts in response.

But then, since this is a time for honesty, he decides to bring up the question that’s been weighing heavily on his mind for the last few weeks.

“Why didn’t ya tell me about the job offer?” he gently asks, the question curious rather than accusatory.

“Job offer?” The line of your mouth twists down and your eyebrows knit together as you try to understand what he’s referring to.

“Tsumu said ya turned down a job offer. It was around when Reiji was sick,” he explains and his tone turns slightly hesitant. “Did ya feel like ya couldn’t tell me?”

Your eyes spark with recognition before you roll them in annoyance.

“Atsumu’s an idiot. He never listens,” you begin to rant and he’s not too proud to admit that hearing your irritation directed towards his twin extinguishes the last remaining embers of his jealousy. “It wasn’t a job offer. A recruiter reached out about a job opening for a position that involves more work for less pay. I didn’t even reply.”

He feels an odd mixture of relief, guilt, and frustration. He’s relieved that this was just some misunderstanding, but he feels just as guilty for jumping to the worst conclusion and thinking that you were something big from him. The frustration will be dealt with when he next sees his twin and gives him an earful and delivers a slap to the back of his head.

“I’m sorry fer not just askin’ ya ‘bout it sooner,” he says and you just give him a look of understanding.

“You and me, we’re only human. There are just gonna be times when I forget to tell you something or just don’t think to bother with it. But I’ll always do my best to make sure you know when there’s something going on. We’re a team, remember?” You run your fingers caringly through his hair with a soft smile and he leans eagerly into your touch.

“We’re a team,” he repeats quietly, finding the words comforting. He then gives you a slightly embarrassed look. “Hey, don’t tell Tsumu, okay? He’ll just call me a scrub.”

You place a reassuring kiss on his lips before nodding.

“Don’t worry. You’re a scrub, but you’re my scrub and I love you.” He can’t help but laugh as he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you close. “But, you wanna do something crazy, huh?”

When he looks up at you, it’s to find a hint of wildness creeping into your expression. It’s the same wildness he used to see when you first started dating — before you both became adults and spouses and parents with real responsibilities.

The next day, Atsumu stops by the restaurant in the late afternoon during a lull. His appearance is unannounced, meaning that Osamu hasn’t had a chance to prepare himself for what he knows is to come. It’s as bad as he imagined because as soon as the setter walks in, he freezes, his expression going slack in shock at the sight of Osamu.

Or more correctly, at the sight of Osamu’s hair, which has been amateurishly dyed to be the same shade of grey that he used to wear in high school.

“Don’t even start,” he warns but doing so is pointless because Atsumu immediately bursts into laughter, finding it so funny that he has to clutch his stomach as he bends over.

“Who’s idea was this?” he manages to ask in between his gasps for air and his cackles. “Ya look so stupid!”

Osamu just stares at him blankly, not bringing up the fact that Atsumu is the one who’s been wearing the exact same hairstyle since they were sixteen, and isn’t that even more pathetic?

Because for all of the mocking that he receives, he knows it was worth it for the time he spent joking and laughing with you into the late hours of the night in your tiny bathroom as you did your best to dye his hair without burning his scalp.

#first thing I've written in months 🙀#miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #miya osamu fluff #osamu fluff #platonic #mel writes

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