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paperultra · 2 months

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THE FIVE NONSENSES

[ SOULMATE!AU ] Pairing: Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader x Miya Atsumu Summary: Like most people, you do not meet the Miya twins so much as they are thrust upon you. Unlike most people, you are thrust upon them as well. read on ao3 | read on quotev

CHAPTER THREE: SMELL Word Count: 8,205 words Warnings: Swearing

“Hey, you! Join the photography club!”

You narrowly dodge the flyer thrust in front of your face, knocking back into someone in the process. Flustered, you move in the opposite direction, only to knock shoulders with another student walking the other way. Both of your apologies get lost in the noise.

“Join the basketball team! Winter Cup finalists two years in a row!”

“Improve your focus in calligraphy club!”

“Join kyudo club!”

“Join marching band!”

With a small huff, you grab the strap of Osamu’s schoolbag and squeeze through the crowd. Osamu looks over his shoulder at you, and you meet his raised eyebrow with a grimace; not long after, a hand presses between your shoulder blades to usher you forward.

“Dammit,” Atsumu grumbles, digging his phone out of his pocket. “Where’s the volleyball club?”

“Hell if I know,” Osamu says. “Call Aran.”

“’S what I’m doin’, dumbass.” Punching a few buttons, the other boy presses his phone against his ear with visible impatience. “Aran!” Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as Atsumu’s voice carries high over the clamor surrounding you, causing several students to swivel their heads. “Where the hell’s the volleyball club? … Class 1-7? Seriously?”

Hanging up without so much as a thank-you, Atsumu quickens his stride down the congested hallway. Osamu follows suit, and you end up seizing the back of his blazer as the three of you head to Class 1-7, evading arms and signs and flyers the entire way.

Having visited the school before to watch Ojiro play, you had known that Inarizaki High School is big; navigating it as a student on the first day of school, however, is a whole different animal. You hadn’t realized it was this big. Or this crowded. After a year of being large fish in a small pond, you now find yourselves in an ocean.

At least you have the twins to rough it with.

(It should be noted that your thankfulness varies wildly from hour to hour.)

Near the entrance to Class 1-7, you spot Ojiro wielding a bright sign advertising the volleyball club. He easily stands head and shoulders above most of the other students, and the sight of a familiar face helps you relax – even though you’d just seen him at graduation a few weeks ago, he somehow looks older here, comfortable and self-assured in the raucous halls of Inarizaki.

“Yo! Aran!” Osamu and Atsumu call out, running up to the second-year. You, still holding onto Osamu’s blazer, are unceremoniously yanked along.

Ojiro perks up and grins widely when you all reach him, freeing one hand to bump fists with the twins. “’Bout time you guys showed up. Thought ya chickened out or somethin’,” he exclaims, then nods at you with a grin. “Good to see you here too, [L/n]-chan.”

You smile back. “Hi, Ojiro-senpai.”

(Of all the people the twins consider friends, which have always been rather scant in number, you like Ojiro Aran the best.)

“Chickened out?” Atsumu scoffs. “No way. You scrubs are gonna need us if ya wanna win nationals this year.”

A laugh bursts out of Ojiro’s chest. “Don’t ya think you’re gettin’ a little ahead of yerself?”

“Yeah, well, what’s new?” Osamu pipes up. He elbows his brother’s side, jabbing a thumb at the doorway when the latter chokes up and glares. “Hurry yer ass up, ‘Tsumu, we haven’t even signed up yet.”

You cough. Ojiro laughs again, leading the three of you into the classroom.

There’s a ton of students already inside when you enter. In one corner of the room is the girls’ volleyball club, and in the other is the boys’, though many are mingling and wandering around to chat. A few are upperclassmen wearing the Inarizaki volleyball team’s jacket – the rest, you assume, are first-years hoping for a chance to join.

It’s not surprising for a school that’s gone to the Spring Tournament almost thirty times. Most of these applicants will be benched for their entire high school career.

Following Ojiro to the desk for the boys’ volleyball club, you encounter the two people sitting behind it.

“Arata-senpai, Kobayashi-senpai,” Ojiro announces, clapping one hand on Osamu’s shoulder and the other on Atsumu’s, “got a package deal for ya.”

The first thing you notice about Arata is how tall he is when he’s sitting down. Then he slowly stands up, and your eyes widen as he keeps going and going, finally stopping about half a head taller than Ojiro.

Arata breathes in, vulpine eyes narrowing, before he slams his hands down on the desk with a loud thwap.

“If it ain’t the Miya twins!” he chirps, voice much peppier than expected, and you choke back a surprised laugh. “I watched yer match last year at nationals. You two think ya have what it takes to be part of a powerhouse?”

“Why talk big when we can just show ya, senpai?” Atsumu says, as if he hadn’t been gassing himself up to Ojiro moments before. He pulls out his signup sheet, already filled out in his usual large, messy print, and slides it over to the captain, leaning over the desk with one hand on his hip. “Got yers, ’Samu?”

“Yup.” Osamu slides his over as well, handwriting slightly neater.

Arata takes the sheets happily. Your gaze falls upon his hands by chance, and then it remains there, taking stock of the scribbles of purple and red decorating his skin.

Ojiro whistles. “Looks like yer soulmate’s havin’ fun with some gel pens,” he comments, pointing at Arata’s hands.

“Hm?” The other boy blinks and takes a moment to inspect the words curving below his knuckles. His brow furrows, and he squints before finally breaking out into a goofy smile. “Ah,” he says, and his voice takes on a distinctly fonder, dreamier tone, “guess they are. They’ve been practicin’ hiragana a lot lately. See? Pretty good, eh?” Arata stretches his hands out face-down, showing them off.

(You can barely read the characters.)

“Neat,” Atsumu says, though his tone has flattened just slightly.

“Right?” Arata doesn’t seem to notice. “We’re gonna finally see each other in person next summer after I graduate. They’re graduating high school this June in Spain …”

“He’s really excited,” Ojiro mutters to the three of you, “in case ya couldn’t tell.”

The volleyball captain’s cheeks turn an endearing shade of pink. “What’s wrong with that, huh, Ojiro? I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with them, so it’s a good sign I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

Next to you, Osamu shifts and shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. You feel his elbow brush against your arm, bare skin separated by layers of fabric.

The rest of your life.

A strange feeling forms in the pit of your stomach. It’s the same kind you get whenever your parents ask about Osamu, and whenever you see couples wearing matching outfits at the mall – a feeling a little less than longing, and a little more than guilt. Like you ought to be doing more, saying more, expressing more. Feeling more.

You wonder what it is like to be Arata, infatuated, proudly flaunting the colors on his hands.

The girl sitting at the desk finally speaks up.

“I thought we were talkin’ about volleyball, not yer love life, Arata.”

Your gaze moves away from Arata’s wrists and onto the girl.

Still sitting, she and the captain paint a picture of a mouse and an elephant, her tiny form complemented by large, expressionless eyes and a small nose. The maroon jacket hanging off her shoulders looks one size too big.

And yet, when her gaze flicks over and meets yours, you’re overtaken by a sudden chill.

Scary.

Arata jumps and glances down at her. “O-Oh, right! Sorry, Kobayashi-chan, I guess I got carried away.”

“It’s fine.” Kobayashi continues to stare at you, and you start to feel slightly uncomfortable. “’S why I’m here.”

“Yeah!” Coughing, Arata rubs the back of his neck and turns his attention back to the twins. “Gettin’ back on track … if it isn’t obvious already, Kobayashi-chan is our manager. She’s real good. Real detailed.”

“But I’m also in my third year, which means we’re currently lookin’ for a new manager for next year,” Kobayashi supplies. “So if ya happen to know any first-years who’re qualified and willing to apply for the right reasons, please let me know.”

Your brow furrows at that.

“Whaddaya mean, ‘the right reasons’?” Osamu asks.

A sheepish laugh escapes Arata’s throat. “Well … the volleyball team’s pretty popular, so we get a lot of folks wantin’ to be manager just to get closer to the team and see if one of the members is their soulmate.” He sighs. “It’s not that I wanna keep any soulmates apart, but those kinds of applicants slow down the search, and obviously, we want a manager who actually wants to manage.”

Ah. Already, some of your peers already seem like they’re on a time crunch to find their person. Soulmates are getting to be a bigger and bigger deal as you get older, and with that comes certain expectations. It’s not hard to figure out why some would hope to have someone popular and athletic.

“Sorry, don’t know anybody like that,” Atsumu replies at the same time Ojiro says your name.

You look at your senior, surprised.

He directs a finger upwards. “Ya know volleyball pretty well,” he points out. “Wanna apply? You already manage the twins, after all.”

“Oi, what’s that s’posed to mean –”

Arata seems to finally notice you, eyebrows raising. “Oh! Sorry, didn’t see ya there,” he exclaims. “What’s yer name?”

Reluctantly, you step up next to Osamu and introduce yourself.

“[L/n]-chan. So ya know the twins?”

“I’ve lived on the same street as them since elementary school.”

“Really! Ya must know them well, then.”

“More than well,” says Kobayashi.

She points down at your hand. Arata follows her finger, and you resist the urge to curl your pinkie when his mouth drops.

“Oh, damn, you’re soulmates with – er, uh –”

Osamu and Atsumu just stand there, watching the captain flounder. After a few seconds, you reach up and tug Osamu’s earlobe sharply.

“Osamu,” you say, both as an answer and as a scolding, ignoring the muttered ‘ow’ coming from your right.

Clapping his hands, Arata nods. “You’re soulmates with Osamu-kun! Wow, that’s amazing. And you’ve been together since elementary school? He’d think and play better with you just bein’ there.”

You smile, embarrassed.

“That doesn’t make her the right candidate, Arata,” says Kobayashi. “Even if she really wants to manage the team, she might still prioritize Osamu-kun over everybody else. The last thing I want is a manager who picks favorites.”

She says it so bluntly, so seriously. Your smile weakens as her words hit a sore spot you didn’t know you even had.

There must be a good way to disagree. The two truths of the matter are that being a good manager would mean risking being a bad soulmate, and that being a good manager is a risk you can afford. Osamu isn’t the type of person who needs to be worried about. He gets scraped up, but he doesn’t mind it, and he knows his limits. If a player got hurt right as Osamu called you for something, you know you’d check on the other player first. Even if the other player was Atsumu. (Maybe.)

Osamu simply does not need you to take care of him. You don’t know how to express this without seeming like you don’t care as much as you should.

Atsumu cuts in before you can organize your thoughts into words.

“She wouldn’t,” he says, “unless it’s me. But ’Samu and I are soulmates, so we’re already at our best when we’re on the court.”

The upperclassmen before you tilt their heads simultaneously.

“… Wait,” Arata says after a while, slowly. “You’re tellin’ me that Osamu-kun has two soulmates?”

Osamu glances at you, eyes half-lidded, and you can only meet his eyes for a few seconds before you have to look at the ground.

“Guess I’m favored,” Osamu replies.

“Wow.” Huffing out a laugh, Arata crosses his arms. “Two soulmates … huh. I wonder how that works …” Kobayashi grunts and he clears his throat. “S-Sorry. Anyway, [L/n]-chan, if you’re interested in the manager position, just fill this out and give it to Kobayashi-chan. We’re taking applications until July first or until we find someone, whichever comes first.”

He hands you a sheet of paper, and you take it tentatively.

“My phone number’s at the top in case you have any questions,” Kobayashi adds. Her voice lowers, but its monotony remains. “And if ya end up applying, know that I won’t show any favoritism just because of yer soulmate.”

You take in a breath through your nose, fingers curling into the application in your hands. “Yeah, of course.”

She nods once, then leans back in her seat. The set of her mouth relaxes just slightly, and she crosses her arms, morphing from a cutthroat manager to a tired senpai.

“See ya after school. Good luck,” she says. Her eyes bore into yours. “To all of ya.”

There’s a moment of silent surprise between you, Osamu, and Atsumu. Then all three of you bow as Ojiro and Arata chuckle.

“Thank you!”

—

The twins, predictably, become one of three first-year regulars on Inarizaki’s boys’ volleyball team. You place your manager application in the top drawer of your desk, which you pull out frequently over the next three weeks just to stare at the blank form, unsure about the whole thing.

Saturday afternoon rolls around, and you’ve taken the paper out of your binder and set it on top of your desk at home when your phone buzzes.

Osamu: you home

You: yeah

Osamu: ok

And that’s it. You stare at your screen for a few seconds, unblinking, before you shoot up from your seat and scramble to your dresser to get changed.

Five minutes and a bit of haphazard cleaning later, there’s a few firm knocks on the front door, followed by incessant banging. You stalk over to open the door before it’s knocked off its hinges.

“I could hear you,” you tell Atsumu, unimpressed, as the two enter and shuck off their shoes.

“I know.”

He deftly dodges the kick you aim at his ankle. This usually happens nowadays, unfortunately, but it doesn’t stop you from trying.

“’S just you here?” Osamu asks, shuffling into some slippers and walking further into the house. His gym bag hangs from his shoulder, big and bulky, and you look at it curiously.

“… Yeah?”

“Fer someone left home alone all the time, you’re duller than a rock,” Atsumu says. “Folks’re gone and ya don’t even throw a party? Geez.”

You narrow your eyes as he grins. “Maybe I just want peace and quiet after havin’ to sit in class with you all week, Atsumu. Anyways, why are you guys here?”

You receive no answer. After eyeing the kitchen, Osamu turns and heads down the hallway, prompting you to follow. You’re further confused when he enters the bathroom and sets his bag on the countertop.

As he unzips it, Atsumu squeezes past you and reaches into the bag, pulling out a –

A shower cap.

“… Is the shower at yer place broken or something?”

“No,” Osamu says, and he pulls something else out. “Ma’s home.”

You stare at the box in his hands. Then you look back up at the twins.

“She’s gonna kill you.”

—

Watching Osamu and Atsumu bleach each other’s hair is like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

Their dark T-shirts have speckles of orange on them, there are bits of foil littering the sink and the bathroom floor, and the acrid stench of bleach filling the bathroom is starting to creep down the hallway. You can only hope it doesn’t linger past Sunday night when you go back to the dorms.

“If you screw this up, I’m shaving yer giant head in yer sleep.”

“I’m doin’ it better than you did, ya scrub!”

You stand outside, shirt collar pulled up and over your nose, as Atsumu finishes combing through the top part of Osamu’s hair. It’s an incredible thing to witness: Osamu sitting on the shower seat, hunched over and holding a sheet of foil over his undercut while Atsumu hangs over him, wearing one of the shower caps to keep his own hair out of the way. It’s also a disaster.

You lift your phone up to snap a quick picture.

“Oi! What’re ya doin’?”

“Making a present for Ojiro.” Upon viewing the photographic evidence, you realize something. “You’re not gonna tell Auntie that you dyed yer hair at my house, right?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Osamu assures, letting Atsumu hold onto the foil while he pulls on a shower cap. He sets a timer, and the two of them hurry out of the bathroom to escape the fumes. “She won’t be thinkin’ about the details when she finds out.”

“Like she’d ever blame ya, anyway.” Atsumu scoffs. “You’re the favorite and you ain’t even her kid.”

“Well, I don’t wanna take my chances.” You recall the countless number of times the twins had received a whooping for something stupid they did, and the countless number of times you had just barely managed to slip under the radar by keeping your mouth shut. “Y’know, she might make ya dye it black again if the school doesn’t like it.”

“Please. If anything, they’ll thank us fer givin’ them an easy way to tell us apart.”

“Is that why you’re dyein’ yer hair? You’re already in different classes.”

“It ain’t fer class,” Osamu says. “It’s fer volleyball.”

Atsumu presses his back against the wall and slides down to the floor, pulling up a game on his phone. “Some of the scrubs still can’t tell us apart on court,” he sniffs. “’M tired of it.”

That, you think, makes a lot more sense.

Osamu and Atsumu have always taken full advantage of being identical twins. You’ve seen them pull just about every stunt in the book – switching the way they part their hair on random days, pretending to be the other when one of them gets in trouble, making money off classmates who bet on knowing who’s who (and lying on more than one occasion). Looking alike isn’t usually a point of contention between them.

When it does bother them, volleyball is usually involved. They don’t always wear different shirts or numbered jerseys at practice, and you’ve been to enough of them to know that this can cause issues at the beginning of the year. The coach calls out the wrong name, a teammate calls for Osamu when they mean Atsumu, things like that.

They get especially miffed when one gets praised for something the other did. Atsumu, in particular, hates that the most.

“Ya have anythin’ to eat?”

Head snapping up, you look at Osamu and nod halfway through absorbing what he’s just asked. “There’s leftover onigiri in the fridge and snacks in the cupboard,” you reply, stepping over Atsumu’s outstretched legs to lead his brother towards the kitchen.

(“Heat up an onigiri fer me,” Atsumu calls out.)

(“Get it yerself, lazy-ass,” Osamu shoots back.)

In the kitchen, you fish out the last two onigiri the twins’ mom had given you yesterday and present them to Osamu.

“Here. You and Atsumu can each have one.”

“These the ones with salted salmon?”

You nod.

Osamu thinks for a moment. His lips purse, his eyelids droop, and even though he kind of looks like a lunch lady with that shower cap on, it’s cute.

“I’ll make ochazuke and yaki onigiri,” he decides. “What do ya want?”

“I’ll just have some chips or something. I just ate lunch, so I’m not that hungry.”

He stares at you, then accepts the onigiri from your hands. “Okay.”

Putting the rice balls on the counter next to the stove, Osamu retrieves a small plate, a bowl, and a mug from the cupboard. He finds most of everything else pretty quickly – the cast iron skillet under the oven, the spatula in the drawer right next to the fridge, and the soy sauce and oil in the lower corner cabinet. The only thing he asks for you to locate is the green tea, which you get from the depths of the second shelf in the pantry.

While he works, you grab a bag of your favorite chips and pop it open, leaning against the unused counter on the other side of the stove to watch.

You like it whenever Osamu cooks. The click of the stovetop turning on, the curve of oil being poured into the skillet, and you’re rocking gently in a small boat, curled up in an overstuffed chair on a rainy day.

(It’s an extension of how he feels, you’ve learned – for as much as Miya Osamu loves volleyball, he loves food just a teeny bit more.)

When the oil is hot enough, he unwraps one of the onigiri and places it in.

You turn the opening of your chip bag towards him as he wipes his hands on a towel. “Here,” you offer once he notices.

“Thanks.”

Atsumu’s onigiri sizzles in the skillet while the water for Osamu’s tea continues to heat up. Osamu mirrors your posture on his side of the stove, messily crunching down on several chips, and the two of you wait.

“Didja apply for the manager position yet?”

You swallow too early, rough shards of chips cutting down your throat. Fighting the urge to cough, you shake your head and reach for the water you’d left on the table this morning. “No. Still thinkin’ about it.” He hums. “You guys haven’t found one yet?”

“Kobayashi-senpai’s real picky.” He flips the onigiri over with one sharp push of the spatula, brushing soy sauce over the freshly grilled side. The water boiler beeps right after, and he seamlessly transitions over to pour the hot water over the teabag in his mug. “Most of the applicants we saw were annoyin’, anyway.”

“Oh.”

You recall the last practice you’d attended, watching from the balcony with your homework as the team ran laps around the court. The applicant on trial that day had watched them go by a few times, still and proper, before suddenly turning to Kobayashi and excusing themselves from the gym. They never came back.

On the walk back to the dorms that evening, Atsumu explained that the student had a counter for how many times their soulmate would pass by them.

(“Waste of time n’ space,” he’d complained. “Who’d wanna be with someone that desperate?”)

“Ya wouldn’t be half bad at it.”

“… Yeah …”

“If ya don’t wanna apply, just say so.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t know if I’ll wanna do it for the next three years.”

“Whaddaya want to do, then?”

“I dunno.” With a sigh, you set your bag of chips down. “I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to apply.”

Osamu shrugs. “If ya are,” he says, turning off the stove top, “don’t do it just ’cause of me.”

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, sharp and knowing as he flips the yaki onigiri onto the plate he’d pulled out earlier.

After calling Atsumu, who had migrated to the living room couch while he had been waiting, the twins scarf down their afternoon snack in no time at all and raid your cupboard for the complimentary snacks your parents usually bring back from their trips.

Halfway into his fourth wafer, Atsumu’s timer goes off.

“Oh, shit.” Shoving the rest of the wafer into his mouth and silencing the alarm, Atsumu gets up and eagerly makes a beeline to the bathroom.

“… Do ya think it worked?” you mutter as you and Osamu stand up more slowly.

“I dunno.”

A loud swear explodes from the bathroom.

You look at each other sharply. Wiping the crumbs from your lips, the two of you run over to investigate.

As you get closer, you hear the sink running, then Atsumu muttering underneath his breath.

When you peek into the bathroom, your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline.

Holy shit.

“Holy shit,” Osamu says, leaning past you to get a better look. “’Tsumu, ya look like a carrot.”

“Shaddup, ’Samu,” Atsumu moans, rinsing his hair angrily. “I know. Fuck.”

Hair bleach on dark hair, as you find out, works similarly to hair bleach on dark fabric. Contrary to the sandy blond the older twin had desired, the result he had gotten is instead a bright, burnt yellow-orange matching the stains on his T-shirt. Not carrot, necessarily, but definitely not blond.

“Ugh.” Nose and forehead wrinkling, Atsumu leans toward the mirror, pinching a section of hair between his fingers. “It … it ain’t that bad, right?” His pitch rises with the slightest hint of denial. “I’m pullin’ it off.”

“It’s that bad,” Osamu says.

“’Samu!”

“Maybe you can bleach it again?” you suggest.

“And then his hair falls out? Bad idea.”

“Dye it, then, like you are.”

“We don’t have money left to buy a different color.” With a sigh, Osamu puts his hands on his hips. “Damn. Sorry, ’Tsumu.”

Atsumu groans and thunks his forehead against the mirror, dripping water all the way down its surface onto the counter. His frustration is so palpable that you can feel it prickling your skin.

If he hadn’t been so excited before, you’d probably poke fun. You should poke fun, but the disappointed twist of his lips and the droopiness of his sopping wet hair just makes you feel bad. He looks like a wet puppy.

Dammit.

You take your phone out.

Osamu tracks the movement. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Lookin’ something up.” You press on the first link you see, skim the webpage quickly, and put your phone back into your pocket. “I’m headin’ out fer a bit. Stay here.”

“… ’Kay.”

“Whatever,” Atsumu grumbles.

After grabbing your wallet and checking its contents, you head outside to drag your bike out from underneath the vacant carport. And as you hop onto the seat, pedaling down towards the nearest drugstore, you tell yourself that Atsumu better thank you on his hands and knees once you get back.

—

“Blue shampoo?” Atsumu’s tone is suspicious as he slathers the back of Osamu’s hair in grey dye.

“It’s supposed to cancel out the orange.” Turning the bottle to face you, you read the description beneath the brand name. “‘Eliminates brassy, orange undertones.’ See?”

“It ain’t gonna fuck up my hair even more?”

“’Course not,” you retort, all hopes of veneration quickly fading away. “I ain’t an asshole, Atsumu.”

His eyebrow twitches, hands slowing. You take the opportunity to place the bottle sideways in the crook of his neck, forcing him to tilt his head to hold it in place.

“Oi –”

“Go try it. I’ll finish Osamu’s hair.”

“Yer so bossy,” Atsumu grumbles, but he lets you nudge him out the way, peeling his gloves off and grabbing the shampoo.

You snap some gloves on in turn, keeping one eye on Osamu’s hair and the other on Atsumu as he ducks his head beneath the sink faucet. They’d pretty much finished up applying the dye for Osamu, at least from what you can tell, so you start combing through the locks with your fingers to make sure everything is covered.

Miya hair is very thick. Soft, too. You hope all this bleaching and dyeing won’t ruin it too much.

“Hm,” Osamu hums abruptly.

You stop. “What?”

“Nothin’.” You furrow your brow but resume, only to just barely hear him mumble, “… Feels nice.”

Oh.

A smile crawls onto your lips without warning, the space behind your ribcage suddenly cozy and soft.

“Alright, I’m doin’ it,” Atsumu announces. You look up just in time to see him squeeze a dollop of shampoo into his hand. “Euch! It’s so blue!”

“Why do ya sound so surprised?!”

“Shaddup, I just wasn’t expectin’ it to be so dark! … Smells okay, though …”

While the shampoo does its work on Atsumu’s hair, you take a little extra time combing Osamu’s. He remains quiet and still, thumbs tapping idly on the dark screen on his phone. You wait for him to make more snide remarks at Atsumu’s expense or complain about the smell of the dye, but he doesn’t.

You eventually finish up while the water still runs blue and sudsy into the bowl of the sink. Osamu mutters a thank you and ambles off after eyeing his brother for a few seconds. You linger for a while longer.

(God, you hope it works. If not for Atsumu’s sake, then for your pride and your wallet.)

After what seems like forever, he rinses out the last of the shampoo, wrings his hair out a bit, and straightens up to look in the mirror.

You examine his reflection as well. It’s less orange, yes, but still not as light as he had wanted, more gold than sand. Not necessarily good, but certainly less bad.

Atsumu fixates on the more muted shade of his hair for a minute or two. His lips press downwards at the corners, and then they part to say your name.

You blink.

“What?”

“Why’d ya buy the shampoo?”

He sounds almost accusatory, but not quite; there’s an undertone that you very, very rarely hear in his voice. He meets your eyes in the mirror, hair a dripping, tangled mess.

“… ’Cause I felt bad fer ya,” you admit unwillingly. Atsumu makes a face, and you sharpen your tongue, because that is what feels comfortable with him. Normal. “And I didn’t want to hear ya mopin’ and complainin’ about it all week.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” he persists. “I coulda pulled it off.”

You scoff. “Just ’cause you’re taller than most of the school doesn’t mean they wouldn’t’a noticed. And anyways, it’s better now, ain’t it?”

“I didn’t ask ya to buy it.”

“Ya didn’t even know what it was until I told you.”

“An’ if I did, I still wouldn’t’ve asked!”

“Yeah, ’cause yer prideful ass would rather die than ask fer help!” you snap, jabbing his bicep with your finger. “God! I knew ya wouldn’t even say thank you!”

“Well, if ya knew I was gonna be a dick about it, why’d ya waste yer money?!”

“I felt bad fer ya!” you screech. “My mistake!”

“Yeah, yer mistake!” Atsumu shouts back.

Chest heaving for breath, you glare at him. He glares in return. Temper pinks his face and the tips of his ears, flares his nostrils and curls his lip in that fierce and familiar way. In the back of your mind, you know you are doing the same.

Asshole.

You’re angry, yes. And offended, and exasperated, and and and –

And hurt.

“It’s so hard,” you say, your voice deciding to crack at the worst time possible, “to be nice to you sometimes, Atsumu.”

When the words leave your throat, his face grows blank in that way you’ve always hated, his mouth pressing into a fine line.

“So?” he replies.

You roll your eyes. “Forget it.”

Casting one last glance at the bottle of shampoo next to the sink, you clench your fists and turn to leave. What a waste of money. This is the last time you’re ever going to feel bad for him.

A hand wraps around your elbow upon your first step outside the bathroom.

“… Are ya cryin’?”

“No,” you bite, wishing he hadn’t asked because now you do feel like crying, just a little bit.

Atsumu pauses for an excruciating moment. You can practically feel his distaste for whatever words he’s about to say.

“I’ll pay ya back,” he mutters. “Fer the shampoo.”

“No.”

“Whaddaya mean, no?”

“I don’t want yer money.”

“Well, what do ya want, ’cause I ain’t owin’ ya anything.”

“I want a thank you.”

“… Can’t I just –”

“No.”

Atsumu throws his hands up. “Fine!” he says. “Thanks fer buyin’ somethin’ I didn’t ask fer! There, ya happy now?”

“I want ya to mean it,” you say quietly.

“I did mean it.”

You cross your arms.

He groans. Glancing around as if checking for hidden cameras, Atsumu slowly pushes his bangs away from his face and wipes his nose, sniffing.

“… Fine,” he eventually grumbles at the floor tiles. Cheeks puffed, he looks up at you from the corner of his eye and scratches the back of his head. “The shampoo fixed it a little bit,” the words struggle their way out of his mouth, “so … thanks … fer gettin’ it fer me. Ya didn’t have to.”

He looks like he’s just eaten soap, his ears still red, and that’s how you know he’s being sincere. Your shoulders relax a little bit.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Atsumu’s expression, almost doleful for just that moment, blooms into something more sarcastic once you accept his gratitude. He gestures at the doorway behind you. “Can I go now?”

“Dry the mirror and the counter first.”

“But I said thank you.”

You throw a towel at his face and walk away, more satisfied than not.

—

“How’s Osamu-kun doing?”

You prop your phone up against the wall behind your desk, tilting your pen between your fingers. “He’s fine, Ma.”

“Did ya tell him how good his curry is? He makes it better than me.”

“Yeah, he says he’s glad you guys like it.”

After resolving the blue shampoo issue with Atsumu on Saturday, you’d gone back to the kitchen and found Osamu chopping vegetables and tofu next to the sink. At first, you figured he was hungry again, but upon your questioning, he’d only denied it.

(“’S fer you.”

“… Fer me? No, you don’t have to –”

“Yeah, I know. Ya don’t like the curry at the cafeteria, so bring mine back to the dorm and save it in the fridge fer later. If ya don’t want it, leave it fer yer folks to eat when they get back.”)

He didn’t leave much room for debate. And since he was using your family’s food to make it anyway, you accepted, a bit perplexed but happy nonetheless. You hadn’t expected him to remember your complaint about the cafeteria’s bland curry.

The amount he made was enough to fill two Tupperware containers, one of which you left for your parents when they returned two days later. Needless to say, they were delighted.

“What a thoughtful boy. He’s so good to you, honey.”

You smile, walking back to your desk. “Yeah.”

(“Ya like dark chocolate in it, right?”)

Your mom sighs. It’s a familiar sigh, and you click your pen, knowing what she is about to say before she even takes a breath.

“I just don’t know why he hasn’t asked ya out yet.”

You can hear your dad speak up between chews in the background. “It ain’t like how it was back when we were young, dear. Soulmates these days don’t like makin’ things so formal and official.”

“Oh, I know, but wouldn’t it be sweet? I was so happy when we went on our first official date.”

“The one at the konbini ’cause I couldn’t afford anythin’ nicer?”

“Yes. I loved it.”

“I know. You were smilin’ the whole time.”

“Glad you’re still in love,” you say dryly when they giggle over the phone, your nose wrinkling when your dad comes into view to give your mom a loud smooch. During these moments, you wish you’d called instead. “I’m still here.”

“Oh, I know, I know. Honey, you should bring Osamu-kun somethin’ fer his next game! A snack fer afterwards. He’ll like that.”

“Okay.” You’ve done that before. The first time you gave him an orange in your first year of junior high, he and Atsumu squabbled over dividing it for five minutes. Now you get double portions whenever you have the compulsion to bring something after games, just to keep the peace.

“Speaking of games …”

Here we go.

“… Have ya applied to be the manager for the volleyball team yet?”

“Um.” Glancing at the wall to your right, you click your pen some more, taking your time to answer. “I filled the form out …”

“[Y/n]! If ya dawdle, someone else’ll snatch it up. When’s it due?”

“July first or until they find someone.”

“Turn it in tomorrow!”

“Okay, okay.”

Your mom sighs again, and she places a bowl down onto the table. “… Otherwise, are ya okay? I’m sorry we missed ya at home.”

“It’s fine. I hung out with Kokomi and the twins. How was yer anniversary?”

“We’ll make sure we’re home next time you’re on weekend leave. And it was lovely! Oh, honey, ya should’ve seen the fish yer pa caught …”

You talk with your parents until they finish their dinner, hanging up once they’ve started cleaning up. As soon as the video cuts out, you release a breath and turn your phone face-down.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous about applying for the manager position. It’s the natural thing to do, because it’s natural to want to be involved with something Osamu is interested in, his own opinion on the matter notwithstanding. You think you might like being a manager. It’s not like you want to do something else more.

Getting rejected by Kobayashi would be horrible, though.

Maybe you’ll wait a little longer to turn your application in. Polish it up some more, and such.

—

After volleyball practice ends, and after everyone who had lingered behind to practice some more is ready to call it a night, Atsumu tells you and Osamu that he’s staying a little longer to practice his jump float serves.

“Are ya sure? Cafeteria’s servin’ all-you-can-eat pasta for dinner.”

“I’ll be done before it closes.”

Osamu doesn’t look convinced. To be fair, neither are you; Atsumu often loses track of time when he stays behind, resulting in an extra hungry, extra irritable Atsumu.

“Atsumu,” you say.

He huffs at you. “Seriously, I will!” he insists, before turning to walk back to the end line. You, Osamu, Ginjima, Akagi, and Ojiro all look on helplessly as he throws a volleyball into the air and gives himself a running start.

“Don’t worry,” Kobayashi says, grabbing your attention just as he jumps. She holds up the key to the gymnasium. “I’ll kick him out before he misses dinner.”

Ojiro, ever the responsible one, lets out a noise of protest. “Senpai, I can lock up. You should go.”

“No, it’s fine.” Though her tone is impassive, she makes it clear that her mind is set as she waves him off. “I’m goin’ out to eat with my boyfriend later, anyway.”

You blink.

Though Ojiro is visibly reluctant, he acquiesces. “… Okay. Thank you, Kobayashi-senpai.”

“Mmhm,” Kobayashi hums, and her gaze falls upon you. “Make sure they get to the cafeteria in one piece, [L/n]-chan.”

“I will, senpai.”

You wait outside while the guys change out of their gym clothes and gather their things. Once they exit the building, you join them, listening idly to their chatter about today’s practice as the five of you trek towards the cafeteria.

“Hey, Ojiro-senpai, Akagi-senpai,” Ginjima speaks up during a lull in the conversation. “What Kobayashi-senpai said earlier …”

Attention piqued, you look at your upperclassmen for their reactions to Ginjima’s question. Next to you, Osamu does little to hide his curiosity as well.

Ojiro and Akagi, in turn, share a glance, and Ojiro raises an eyebrow at Ginjima.

“Yeah?” Ojiro replies.

“Well, y’know …” Ginjima presses expectantly, “when she said that she has a boyfriend, did she mean …?”

“That’s somethin’ you can ask Kobayashi-senpai about, ain’t it?”

You imagine doing just that and cringe.

Ginjima’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat. “Well –!” he replies, a bit too loudly. “I would, but I don’t want her to think I’m bein’ judgmental or somethin’. Plus, I’m just a first-year …”

“Aw, I think it’s fine if they know, Aran. It ain’t like she’s hidin’ it or anythin’,” Akagi says. Ojiro looks up for a moment in thought, then shrugs tentatively, and Akagi smiles at you and the two boys. “Kobayashi-senpai’s not datin’ her soulmate. They’re pretty serious, too.”

Ojiro rests his hands behind his head. “He’s a nice guy. Comes to games sometimes.”

“Oh, I see …”

You nod slowly, absorbing this new piece of information. Kobayashi has a boyfriend. A boyfriend that she goes on dates with, one she really likes. You wonder how long they’ve been together.

You wonder if Kobayashi’s met her soulmate yet.

“E-Excuse me! Hello!”

The quick patter of footsteps interrupts your train of thought. Glancing behind you, you stop short when you see one of your classmates running up to your group, waving one hand and holding a camera in the other. The golden orange of the sky burnishes her red hair.

“Naruko-san,” you and Ginjima greet at the same time. Ginjima laughs.

“Sorry to bother ya!” Naruko bows and quickly straightens, holding her camera up and smiling nervously. “I-I was just takin’ some pictures for photography club, and I was wonderin’ if you guys would mind me takin’ a picture?”

“How long’s it gonna take?” Osamu asks.

“Not too long. Five minutes? U-Unless y’all are in a hurry to get somewhere …”

“Not too much of a hurry. Just wanna make it to dinner.” Ojiro smiles, patting Osamu and Akagi’s backs. “Where do ya want us?”

Naruko brightens, her cheeks going red. “J-Just keep walkin’! The lighting’s perfect right now, and I wanna take a picture of yer backs with yer volleyball jackets on.” She glances at you, and her expression grows more nervous. “Er …”

You lock eyes with her for a few seconds before catching on. Nodding, you take a step towards Naruko to join her.

Osamu’s hand grasps your shoulder.

His hold is loose, but you bite back the urge to slump over at the sudden warmth of it, pausing instead to look back at him.

“Where’re ya goin’?”

You answer tentatively. “I don’t have a team jacket.”

“That’s fine. You’re walkin’ with us too.”

“Yeah, but …” You wet your lips. “Like, visually, it’ll look weird if one person doesn’t have one on …”

The corner of Osamu’s mouth twitches, and he frowns. You watch as his gaze moves past your shoulder. A sudden, brief twinge of irritation, not belonging to you, zings through your ribcage.

“Why’s that matter?”

“Yeah. C’mon, it’ll be fine,” Ojiro says.

“It’s okay!” Naruko suddenly blurts, and you jolt slightly, looking back at her. She bounces on her feet, voice even higher pitched. “I can do a more candid shot, now that I think about it! A-Actually, Miya-san, could ya give [L/n]-san yer jacket? And Ginjima-san, you can keep yers around yer waist …”

Her sudden change in idea perplexes you a bit. But Osamu seems to be satisfied, and he shrugs his jacket off, placing it over your shoulders.

After a bit of hesitation, you slide your arms through the sleeves.

(It’s just as warm.)

“Ooh, [L/n]-chan’s wearin’ Osamu’s jacket,” Ginjima teases behind his hand, and your face heats up.

“Okay.” Behind you, Naruko lets out a wistful-sounding sigh. “I’m ready. Y’all can start walkin’ now, just like ya were before.”

With only a bit of self-consciousness, the five of you follow her instructions. There are only a few clicks of the camera before Naruko calls out her thanks and goes off without another word, leaving you and the boys to speculate whether you’ll ever see the results.

“How cute,” Akagi comments. “She looked like she was gonna throw up, though.”

“I hope those were conflicting statements.”

“Okay, Aran, I wasn’t implying …”

While the two upperclassmen start to banter, you move to take Osamu’s jacket off, only for him to stop you.

“’S fine,” he says. “You can wear it if ya want.”

“Oh. Okay.”

And so you do.

—

The boys’ first practice game in July is brutal.

Many of your peers have come to watch. It’s a favorite after-school pastime of Inarizaki’s student populace, you’ve quickly discovered, to hop from one athletic club to the other simply to spectate and speculate. People pack the balcony and peek around the doorway, catching the scent of blood and sweat.

Between the crowd’s cheering and jeering, the squeak of sneakers on the gym floor, and the sound of palms ramming into volleyballs, the atmosphere is sharp, almost electric – something that you feel tingling on your skin as you stand on the sidelines, Kobayashi right by your side.

Atsumu delivers another devastating service ace. It ricochets off the corner of the other side of the court with a thunderous boom.

“Did you catch that, [L/n]-chan?” Kobayashi asks, arms crossed. “That was one of his better ones.”

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t.”

“Hm.”

You watch the slow, satisfied stretch of Atsumu’s smile, and wait patiently. “It’s okay. He ain’t done yet.”

Indeed, Atsumu is just getting started. You spare an amused glance at Osamu in front of the net, his hands locked protectively behind his head, before turning back to Atsumu as the volleyball is thrown back to him.

Raising your camera, you adjust the focus, finger ready on the shutter button.

Toss. Run. Jump.

Click.

On your other side, a girl pumps her fists and cheers.

“Wow! Another one!” she gushes.

You smile behind your lens. “Ya always sound so impressed, Tsubaki-chan.”

“I’m just excited! We’re crushin’ them in the last set!”

“’Course we are,” says Kobayashi. “Our offense is that much better. I’m a little disappointed.”

As your upperclassman patiently points out each player’s strengths and weaknesses, you keep an eye on the team and crouch low. You’ve got plenty of photos now that the game’s nearing its end – lots of sets, a few spikes and digs, some flashy jump serves. Hopefully, some of them have turned out halfway decent. Even though you’d widened the aperture to make up for the gym’s crappy lighting and adjusted the shutter speed for blurring, you still worry about your timing.

By the time Inarizaki scores the winning point, you’ve moved to the opposite end of the court and have to race back to capture their reactions.

One thing you like about the volleyball team is how expressive they are. Joy, passion, pride – off the high of a victory, they bare everything, whether it’s through their expressions or the way they move or both.

Tsubaki says your name excitedly as soon as the teams have finished thanking each other, tugging on your arm. “Can I see the action shots, [Y/n]-chan?” she requests.

“Ah, sure.”

You turn the camera towards her, and she leans in as you scroll through the photos, her grin widening.

“Wow! Yer timin’s amazin’. They look so cool!”

The praise brings summer to your cheeks. “Thanks,” you reply genuinely. After a moment of hesitation, you lift the camera again. “Smile, Manager-san?”

Tsubaki doesn’t hesitate to broaden her already present grin, throwing up a peace sign for good measure. Kobayashi looks your way as well, and you take one shot, knowing it will be kept.

“Cute!” Tsubaki exclaims.

Two shadows loom over your shoulders as the girl bestows you with another compliment. When you turn your head to the right, your nose nearly brushes Osamu’s cheek.

“Ya got any good shots of us, [Y/n]?” Atsumu asks expectantly.

“Yes, actually, I did,” you reply, going back through the camera roll with a particular image in mind. You’re only vaguely aware of the warmth they exude as they budge into your personal space, the smell of sweat lingering on their skin. “Here.”

You’re particularly proud of this one. It had been a split second of pure luck, standing on the sidelines when a window of opportunity opened for a fast-tempo set. You had felt it – you knew Atsumu would set to Osamu, and as Osamu jumped, arm reared back as Atsumu sent the ball to him, you had captured it.

Somehow, you always get the timing right with them.

“Cool,” the twins approve proudly.

“Email that one to us, will ya?” Atsumu says. “I ain’t lettin’ you photography nerds hoard it away.”

“She’s sendin’ all these to Arata-senpai, ya dolt.”

“Hey, I wanna see!” Gintama breaks into your little group, trying to sneak a peek in. “Did ya get one of my spikes?”

“Yeah, how about my jump serve?”

“That super cool block me and Ren did in the second set!”

“Didja get one of Coach?”

One by one, the team gathers around you, eager for a glimpse of their successes. The crowding is uncomfortable, but you try your best to show them what you can anyway, feeling a rare sense of pride about your own accomplishments.

You’re happy with your choice.

Tsubaki will be a great manager. Even when you first met her, you knew she had everything she'd need for the job – a passion for the sport, a desire to help others succeed, and an endless amount of perseverance. Inarizaki couldn’t ask for a better person to replace Kobayashi next year. She’ll do well in what she’s decided to do.

And so will you.

—

#haikyuu #hq #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya atsumu #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader x miya osamu #haikyuu fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #soulmate au #yeah i got carried away LOL #the miya twins giving themselves terrible dye jobs lives rent free in my head #atsumu's especially. i KNOW they screwed up with his #that color looks way too close to a bleach gone wrong on black hair and he just made it his brand for the rest of high school #this is spiraling i am spiraling #kobayashi i'll miss you i loved thinking you up #the five nonsenses

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a-kaash-me-outside · 11 months

Text

a bit dirty - ch5

in which you hook up with osamu in a club bathroom and that's just the beginning. prev | ch5 | next (coming soon) [masterlist]

// can't be a bad idea ~ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 6538 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni nsfw, more bathroom fucking, somewhat publicish? but when isn't it i guess, meeting friends p2 ~ ah!, names names names pet names a million pet names, some nice fruition, a lot of feelings, soft and fluffy fr, afab she/her pronouns

tori talks: ch6 will not be out next week as (to be honest) it isn't finished yet. i thought i'd have finished it by now, but my life is kinda crazy right now!! and i am very!!! ah! so! it will be coming, i promise. just not next week. thank you for being patient and sweet as always. ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

osamu has ‘trusted’ atsumu with working the night shift and closing the restaurant, and that’s how you know how important this night is to him. plus, atsumu kinda owes you two.

but it’s not just that he’s letting atsumu work the night shift and close the restaurant (or, rather, shove receipts into a paper bag until osamu’s back to deal with it), he made plans and arranged the schedule so that the two of you weren’t working the morning shift the following day either, and he did it all within a week.

usually osamu liked to plan ahead, organize his weeks months in advance, iron out details and double/triple check, especially when it came to his restaurant, but the second that he dropped you home that night, he was moving around shifts and trading favors for promises. he didn’t want to wait weeks and weeks and months and months to take you out on a proper date. in fact, even waiting until the end of the week was too long, but he’d survive.

particularly, he’d survive when most of his shifts leading up to your date were ones that he shared with you. some days with just you, some nights with some extra coworkers, and the night before your date spent all alone. it was slow anyways, barely enough dine-in customers all night to count on both hands.

as time ticked on, as it got later and later into the night, all osamu had were to-go orders and solo lingering customers at the bar. he was ready to close up shop early, to turn the sign to close and call it an early night in preparation of his date tomorrow, but the door chimes and along with it a loud chatter as a group of guys enter from outside. “hey guys, was just about to close up, but i’d be happy to do a to-go for ya,” osamu calls out as he delivers the last bill to the single woman in the middle of the bar.

“shit,” tsukishima says under his breath, reaching over to smack kuroo in the back of his head, “shoulda fuckin’ left an hour ago, when i said.”

“miya osamu closing early?” you tease, and osamu instantly swivels his head to find where the voice is coming from, “what’s the rush? gotta hot date?” you ask, light as air as you enter the restaurant for the first time as just a customer.

when osamu sees you, his chill attitude is put on pause, not gone, but not at the forefront, as you walk over to greet him, to pull menus from behind the bar and set them on the corner booth, but you don’t get that far. you’re not on the clock. you’re just here with your friends as the cute girl he’s going on a date with tomorrow, so he reaches his arms out, wraps them around you and pulls you into a tight, but quick hug. it really isn’t long enough.

“what’re ya doin’ here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed, smile huge.

you nod towards the direction of the four guys bickering in the doorway. “friends were hungry, recommended the best place i knew,” you say, lightly nudging your elbow against his side, “plus i knew you were all alone tonight, figured you’d want company as you closed.”

he smiles even bigger at this, goes to nod in affirmation, but you rush on, “but if you’re really closing up early and stuff, it’s not a big deal, we can-”

“go sit down,” he says, chin pointing to the exact booth you were going to put menus on, “whadya want to drink?”

“surprise me,” you say, sly smile kissed away as he leans down and places a small peck against it and you’re ready to call off the entire date tomorrow, because you’re not sure that you need it. this casual kiss, the tight greeting hug, you could just take him back to your place tonight and spend the entire day tomorrow telling him all the reasons why you’ve fallen for him this past year.

but osamu, ever the romantic, classic, but with an exciting twist, probably wouldn’t let that happen, needs to take you out on a real date, has probably put a lot of thought into where he’s taking you and what he’s going to wear and what you’re going to wear and you don’t want to deprive him of that.

you kiss him once more because you can, and then you walk, menus in hand, over to the large booth in the corner and motion with your hand for your friends to join you. “is osamu really okay with us staying?” akaashi asks, sliding into the booth next to bokuto. you sit on the other side of bokuto, able to get up and grab things from behind the bar or the kitchen if you need to.

“definitely,” you say, smiling as you start spewing recommendations, food that isn’t really on the menu and items that are better than others because they’re osamu’s favorites and osamu makes his favorite foods with a bit more love than the rest. when osamu makes his way over to your table, everyone knows exactly what they want, rattles off a long order of hidden dishes and kitchen favorites and osamu smiles at you every single time.

“do you need help?” you ask, body already moving to join him in the kitchen.

he clicks his tongue, hand on your shoulder to keep you seated, “i’m okay, i promise.”

“i know you’re okay, but if you need something, i can-,” you start, but are cut off by osamu’s sweetly stern statement.

“you’re not working, angel, quit,” he says, waving you off as he walks backwards towards the kitchen and you know you’re not going to hear the end of it when he walks through that swinging door. “just be a bit,” he calls as he disappears into the back room.

you throw a look to your group of friends, narrowing your eyes as their smiles grow. kuroo’s the first one to talk. “well, if i knew that’s all i had to do to make you quiet, i’d’ve started calling you angel a long time ago,” he jeers.

“seriously, did you see how fast she just gave it up?” tsukishima asks, because, of course, the only time that kuroo and tsukishima get along is when they’re poking fun at you.

“oh hush,” akaashi says, defending you as he does, “maybe if you guys were as hot as osamu, somebody might listen to you.”

“kaashi’s got a point,” bokuto agrees, nodding along happily, because bokuto will always agree with akaashi.

you put your hand on bokuto’s arm, “he absolutely does, bo.” and the rest of the table is quiet, eerily quiet, and so are you, terrified that someone is going to say something else or embarrass you in some way, but the thing that breaks the silence is kuroo.

“he really is hot though,” he says, nodding, and everyone is in agreement there.

/\ /\ /\

“seriously, everything was so good,” akaashi praises for the sixth time tonight, head leaning on bokuto’s shoulder because he keeps telling everyone not to let him eat another bite and then he keeps fighting everyone and eating another bite.

“thanks, i appreciate it,” osamu says for the millionth time tonight, because it’s not just akaashi who is fawning over the food, it’s everyone at the table.

you’re sitting next to osamu who’s pulled up a chair on the edge of the table and is finishing up his own dinner with you and your friends. his hand is on your knee, just resting while the two of you eat the last bites of food on your plate, just to let you know that he’s there.

“so where are you bringing yn tomorrow?” bokuto asks, finally calling attention to the two of you dating for the first time tonight.

“oh,” osamu laughs, “kinda a surprise,” he admits, “but i guess i can show ya.” he pulls his phone out of his pocket, types something into it, glares at you when he shows your friends, makes sure that you’re not sneaking a peek. they all look confused at first, but then he types something else out on his phone and shows them again and they all understand now.

“this is totally not fair,” you say, shaking your head, “spilling the surprise, but i don’t get to know.”

“just be patient, yn, god,” tsukishima teases, residual smile from reading whatever it was on osamu’s phone. “you’ll see tomorrow.”

“you will see tomorrow, doll,” he says, last bite from his bowl gone after he finishes his sentence. “speaking of,” he stands up, “you guys are welcome to stay as long as you want, but i do have to start cleanin’ up and closin’ down.” the open sign was turned to closed about an hour ago, but the six of you were chatting and eating and osamu happily welcomed the company in the final hours of the day.

“ah, yeah, we gotta get goin’, actually,” kuroo says, reaching into his pocket to grab his wallet as he nods towards you, “yn’s got a big date tomorrow, gotta get her home early.”

“it’s funny when i make the joke,” you say, narrowing your eyes, “not you.”

“i thought it was funny,” bokuto admits.

“i’ll take the bill whenever you’ve got a second,” kuroo calls out, credit card in the air, but osamu waves his hand.

“don’t worry about it,” osamu calls out from the kitchen, walking back into the dining area as he wipes his hands on his apron.

“no way,” kuroo says, shaking his head.

“serious,” osamu replies, “on me.”

“that’s really nice of you, but we ate so much food,” akaashi reasons, gesturing to the table of plenty of empty dishes.

“just happy to meet yn’s friends,” osamu says as your friends meet him by the exit, “nice to share a meal with ya guys, thanks for the company.”

kuroo sticks his hand out of a handshake and osamu takes it despite how weirdly formal it feels for him. tsukishima offers a wave and a sincere thank you. akaashi pulls him into a half-hug and bokuto nearly tackles him. they all pour gratitude and appreciation, and you’re sure they feel special, but it’s nothing compared to how you’re feeling right now.

you feel like you could walk across the clouds, light as a feather, happy as a clam. you wrap your arms around osamu’s neck, pull him down into a soft, sweet kiss, and then pull him into a tight hug. he squeezes his arms around your waist, picks you up off the ground as he tightens his grip around you. “i’ll see ya tomorrow, sweetheart,” he says and then presses a kiss into the side of your cheek.

“can’t wait to see this mystery place,” you say, one last small peck on the lips for good measure before pushing the door open and joining your friends outside. you wave at him through the glass, and he waves right back.

“you’ve gotta cool boyfriend, yn,” tsukishima says once the doors close completely and the four of you start walking back to his car.

“not my boyfriend,” you say, smacking his arm, but you feel giddy, like you’re twirling your hair around your finger and your eyes are made of hearts as your finish, “yet.”

/\ /\ /\

there are quite a few things that you’re feeling while you lean against the arm of your couch, phone in hand, waiting for a text from osamu to tell you that he’s outside of your apartment, and it hits you very suddenly that amidst all of them, amidst the floating and the excitement and the curiosity, you can’t seem to find nervousness anywhere.

receiving osamu’s be there in 10 text, there are no jolts of anxiety or simmering bouts of apprehension that usually accompany a first date. you’re not worried about saying the wrong things or figuring out halfway through dinner that you’re incompatible or fearing that your date has the wrong idea of your level of interest.

if labels didn’t exist at all, the way that you and osamu interact would put you way past friends and casual hookups. if the circumstances of meeting for the second time weren’t as they were, tonight would feel less like a first date and more like a date night.

even the unexpected knock on the door doesn’t scare you. in fact, you’re not sure why you weren’t just expecting it, as if osamu would make you walk from your door to the car all on your own. you’ve been ready for the better half of an hour, shoes on and waiting by the door, not because osamu is late, he’s perfectly and attentively on time, but because you’ve been ecstatic about this all day. you open the door, already grinning before you can even see him, just at the presence of him on the other side.

when you see him, your beaming grin turns more into a smitten smirk, quieter and more fluttery, and despite the fact that you saw him less than 24 hours ago, you have to restrain yourself from tackling him. he looks good, great, perfect actually, and seeing him look so perfect doesn’t make you feel any less dressed up, just more excited to be here with him and to see where he’s taking you.

his eyes meet yours and they linger, helplessly and unapologetically, before skimming down your body, lips in a tight smile as he lets go a, “you look really great.” he leans in, palm resting against your jaw as he presses a sickeningly sweet kiss into your smile. you’re not exactly sure how you’re still upright, knees slightly weak as he snakes his arm around your waist, holding you tightly. “ready to go?”

you nod, follow him down the sidewalk to his closely parked car, and he helps you into the passenger seat, his hand moving with your waist to feel you against his palm for as long as he can.

the only turmoil you’re feeling is the fact that you have to behave all night when osamu looks like that and you’re both off the clock and out in a romantic environment and he keeps touching you like that and when the expectations of tonight are the same in both of your heads.

/\ /\ /\

osamu has a way of making even abandoned oceanside buildings feel romantic.

it wasn’t exactly the type of place that you were expecting osamu to take you on your first date, but for some reason, you trust him. actually, it isn’t anywhere near the images that you had in your head, but when he parks, turns off the car, a bit of underlying nerves in his demeanor, and turns to you with a look that says i know this is weird, and i don’t really know how to explain it without showing you so just trust me, you throw him one right back that says, of course i trust you.

though, it’s not adding up in your head either, where you are and how he looks. you stay in your seat until he opens your door because you know osamu enough to wait the extra few seconds. he doesn’t rush to grab something else from the backseat or trunk, doesn’t lead you down the river past the abandoned building to sparkling lights and a set up spot.

when you step out of the car, you walk with osamu, arm wrapped around his, towards the gravel path and the wooden fence separating the pathway from the cold ocean and rocky shore below. he leans against the rotting wood, hand sliding down your arm to grab yours. you can feel the breath that he takes in his grasp, see it in the rise of his chest from the corner of your eye.

and then he explains everything perfectly in a single sentence. “this is the restaurant that made me want to open my own.” he could’ve stopped there, sat in silence for the rest of the night, not have taken you anywhere else or done anything else, and you’re positive that your heart would have been full enough for ages. you hum, just a short breath of acknowledgement as you squeeze his hand, side step closer into him.

he continues on, “i used to go here after school with sumu, used to do homework in a booth in the corner, eat lunch and dinner when our parents weren’t around or were working late. it was my first job in the kitchen, brought my first girlfriend here, figured out my life inside those walls.”

“i didn’t even realize that i wanted to open up a restaurant until my senior year of high school, really. thought i’d be doin’ the same thing as sumu for the rest of my life until one day i came here on my own because sumu and i had a really bad fight and the owner made me this onigiri, something that wasn’t on the menu, and she didn’t charge me for it because i was uncharacteristically quiet.”

osamu shifts slightly, clears his throat at the memory. “and she said somethin’ like a good meal can heal the heart a little faster, and i remember that the onigiri was so good that despite the fact that my brother was,” osamu sighs and shakes his head, a tiny smile on his face given how relevant his next words are, “a fucking asshole, i still wanted to save half of it to show him how good it was.”

there are still remnants of a restaurant that you can spot now that you’re looking for them: peeks of booths behind paper-covered windows and a patio with a broken gate and places where tables used to be, faded letters on a sign that was situated long enough to cause the paint around it to dull. you can see him here when you close your eyes, through these different phases in his life, for different reasons, with different people.

“they closed down a few years ago, went out of business while mine was starting up,” he explains and you rest your head on his shoulder, “reminds me of how lucky i am that mine is still goin’, still kickin’. makes me think of the future too, of relocating or opening a new location.”

“it’s scary to think about losing it, terrifies me every day,” he says, shifting again, standing up off of the wood, his attention still on the abandoned restaurant, “but i think there’s something cool about being so scared to lose something… like when something in your life is so special that have no choice but to worry about what it would be like if it weren’t there.”

osamu turns to you, looks down into your eyes, and he doesn’t have to say it, you understand completely, but he just has to make sure, “kinda like how i feel about you.”

you already knew exactly what he meant before he said it, you were absolutely certain of the looming analogy he was making, but when it comes out of his mouth, your entire body feels warm.

you don’t know what to say, how to match the sentiment of what osamu’s just said to you, which words to choose to follow the foundations of dreams and what was essentially just a confession. really, the only words that feel right feel like they’re coming too soon.

it’s a weird dynamic that you have here, the notion that this is your first date, but in this moment, you feel like you’ve known osamu for years. and more than that, the two of you have had feelings for each other, feelings that have bubbled and grown and manifested despite the precarious situation between you two, for almost a year now.

you haven’t been dating him in the months you’ve worked at onigiri miya, but you’ve been learning about him and the people closest to him, you’ve seen him almost every single day, you spend hours with him after close just eating dinner with him and you come in on your days off to bring him a coffee from down the street. you’ve both been too busy navigating unsaid feelings and difficult situations to care about labels and professions, so maybe a first date isn’t too soon.

“we’re not eating here obviously, i just wanted to show ya,” he says, sheepishly rubbing his palm against the back of his neck when you don’t respond for a few seconds too long.

your eyes dart from his soft gray eyes to his lips and back again, not sure where they should land to tell him something like this. your breath is caught in your throat, not because you’re worried, but because you’re so excited. “i love you, samu.”

there’s a soft stun in his eyes that might’ve caused some form of nerves to stir in your stomach if you weren’t so sure about this, if you didn’t trust him so much. his eyes widen just a bit and you swear you can feel his heart skip a beat, or maybe that was yours. the pink tint that takes over the tops of his cheeks is warm when you caress your palm against it. you don’t need to hear it back. you heard it whispered between every single word of his story and screamed in the way that he looked at you just a few moments ago.

when his mind catches up to him, he leans down quickly, finger under your chin to tilt your lips into his. it’s soft and sweet and disgustingly romantic, but not as romantic as the way he pulls you closer as he pulls away from the kiss. “i love you, angel.”

you don’t need to hear it back, but fuck, is it really nice.

/\ /\ /\

now, this? this is exactly what you had in mind when you envisioned the place that osamu would take you for your first date, a restaurant with minimal overhead lighting and flickering candles on each table and no prices on the menu and more choices for wine than there were food.

when you walk to the table, osamu places a strong hand on your lower back, fingers curling around the fabric of your tight clothes, gripping and kneading into the fat of your hip as he makes polite conversation with the person who guides you to the private room with a chilling bottle of wine on small round table.

and you’d think that sitting across from osamu, unable to wrap his arm around your waist or throw his arm over your shoulder, would be easier. there is an entire table of distance between the two of you, but that doesn’t stop him. he moves his chair just slightly to the side of the round table, not sitting next to you, just closer, and now he can rest his arm on your knee and the inside of your thigh the entire night.

he doesn’t bring any attention to it either, doesn’t send you mischievous smiles or knowingly glances, he just talks to you as if he’s not driving you absolutely fucking insane right now, pushing his fingers under the hem of your skirt, dragging his nails against your thin tights. he asks you about your day and about what you and your friends did after you left the restaurant last night and about how you met your friends and nothing that’s coming out of his mouth is even remotely about how wet he’s making you right now with his feather soft touches and assuredly harsh grips.

the place is amazing, gorgeous, and the dinner is delicious, but the company is much better than the two combined and you’re having a really difficult time being patient, because as much as you don’t want this moment to end or this dinner to be over, you really fucking want this dinner to be over.

you get your thank you and gratitudes out of the way before the bill is even on the table and osamu doesn’t tease you for your assumptions in his refusal to split the check. you wait until he’s placed the cash with the check and closed the front of the little black book to mutter, “samu, i don’t know if i can wait until we get home.”

he knows exactly what you’re talking about the second that it leaves your mouth. he doesn’t play dumb or make you explain yourself, but he does ask, with narrowed eyes and a slightly tilted head, “is this a test?”

“no,” you shake your head, similarly narrowed eyes now, “why would it be a test?”

“you just complained about the fact that we’ve only ever fucked in bathrooms last week,” he explains, and you’re wondering if the drag of his fingers pulling on the thin fabric of your tights is habitual or not because it doesn’t stop even as you’re having this conversation.

“okay, fair, yes, i did do that, but,” you say, head tilting back and forth as you try to think of some form of difference between then and now, “yea i don’t know if i have an excuse. you’ve been teasing me all night and i’ve spent all week thinking about you and i really want you,” you say, low.

“you can’t wait until we drive back to mine?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

realistically, you probably could wait the drive home and maybe if you weren’t so comfortable with fucking in bathrooms, you would’ve easily done it, but if you didn’t have to wait to feel him against your skin and deep inside of you, why would you? you shake your head now, teeth scraping against your bottom lip, eyes soft and impatient.

he lets out a sigh, shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but these actions aren’t quite matching the loving touch he gives you or the hungry smile he’s wearing as he helps you up. “no use in beating around the bush then, huh?” he asks, nodding towards the restrooms in the back of the restaurant.

as you’re walking to the bathroom, your brain catches up with you, and you almost laugh at how easy the explanation for why you don’t mind doing this again is, “i think it’s because i know you’re going to take me back to your place for a glass of wine tonight, even after you’ve fucked me, and i’m going to spend the night and then in the morning, we’ll make true to all of the promises that we’ve made about never fucking in a bathroom again.”

osamu presses a kiss into the side of your head as he walks with his arm draped around your shoulders. “well, i don’t know about never,” he jokes, or maybe not jokes.

you don’t have time to protest or to agree because when you make it to the bathroom, you realize a very distinct lack of private bathrooms, of single rooms with lockable doors. you also don’t have time to hesitate or worry about logistics because osamu is tugging you into the women's restroom quickly and with less fear than he maybe should.

you can barely appreciate how nice it is in here either, only realize how clean and spacious the stalls are because osamu closes the two of you into the nearest one and you can’t stop giggling at how fast he made all of the decisions to end up here.

“what was that?” you ask, eyebrows knit together as you swivel your head in disbelief, “didn’t even have enough time to take in my surroundings or make a single choice.”

osamu tilts his head slightly, pushes you gently up against the non-stall wall, and your jeers and taunts melt away. “didn’t wanna make you wait any longer, bunny, been teasin’ you all night.”

a whimper leaves your lips in place of meaningful words, but that’s perfect for osamu. he smiles down at you, presses his palm into your hip to keep you pinned against the wall as he kisses down your neck and chest, tugging on the thin straps of your top until they fall down your shoulder.

his lips are everywhere but yours, drastically different than how he usually is, and you understand why very quickly. he pulls your top down, bunches it up around your waist as he quickly captures your nipple into his mouth. you move to let your head fall backwards at the feeling, but there’s nowhere for you to go, no room for your body to squirm in response to his wet tongue circling around your hard bud.

your other tit is in his hand, kneaded and massaged as his thumb flicks across your nipple, pointer finger migrating to roll it between his two fingers. “fuck,” he says, so quietly, between licks and soft suckles, “can’t believe it’s taken me this long to see your pretty fuckin’ tits, babygirl.”

there are knots and butterflies taking up the space in your stomach and the words can’t come out fast enough, “want you to fuck them, samu.” you’re much louder than he is, so loud that he throws you a warning look, turning his head from side to side to remind you of where the two of you are. the thought of not hearing osamu as much as you normally get to isn’t sitting right with you, but he’s gently coaxing you to your knees and fumbling with his belt and y’know what, you’ll get over it.

before his hardening cock slips between your soft tits, you capture his head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his thick head, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can. when you pull off, you let the spit drool off of your tongue and onto the length, spitting any remaining between your tits, and then you let him do the rest.

he holds your tits in both of his hands, has to stop himself from getting distracted by the weight of them or the softness of your skin as he thrusts forward between the fat. he tilts his head back, chin to the ceiling as he squeezes your tits around his cock, slit drooling precome onto your chest as he fucks through it.

every new part of your body that he gets to touch and hold and feel and fuck is just as perfect as the last, but so completely different. he watches your tits bounce as his balls hit your stomach, focuses on the ripples in your skin and the jiggle of the fat, and your pretty eyes looking up at him through your lashes. he compares the sensation to fucking your thighs and your mouth and perfect cunt, and fuck, he can’t stop the amount of precome leaking from the thought.

he’s silent, though, save for a few strong exhales and harsh swallows, and the longer that he’s fucking your tits, the tighter his grip is, the more powerful his thrusts are until he’s convinced that he’s going to come all over your face. you can feel his cock pulsing between your tits, his face focused on the sight, and you’ve fucked him enough times to know that he’s getting close.

you don’t say a word either, only place your hand on his hip until he slows his movements, and stand up and turn around. he doesn’t need you to explain anything to him, the way that you arch your back, both arms crossed over one another and pressed up against the wall above you is plenty tell enough. he reaches under your skirt, pulls your tights down just enough to spread your legs, and then pushes inside of you.

how full osamu makes you feel will never get old. it will never not be the most incredible feeling in the world, being filled to the brim, inch by agonizing inch until you can feel his balls brush up against the inside of your thighs. the first few thrusts inside of you are harsh, too harsh, the clapping echoes off of the walls, bounces right back to you, it’s so loud.

he’s slower after that, long, steady strokes inside of you that allow you to feel every inch, every throb. the small circles that he’s rubbing into your messy clit are only making your pussy clench around him tighter. you can’t tell him anything, can’t communicate how close you are or how good he’s making you feel, so you’re very grateful for how well he knows you, how easy it is for him to feel the signs.

he picks up the pace just long enough to make you come, sacrifices a bit of noise to make you drip all down his cock, to tighten around his throbbing cock, quivering gummy walls coaxing him just as close as you are.

you hear the door to the bathroom push open, voices accompanying it, and osamu stills, not moving a single muscle at the first notice, and then quickly moving with you onto the toilet to fuck you through the rest of your orgasm. he’s full sheathed inside of you, holding your legs up by the backs of your thighs as he lifts off of the toilet seat, thrusting into you, holding you in place above him as he pulls out.

you wish you could think more about how insane this is, but all you can think about is how good he’s making you feel, how safe and supported you feel in this wild position. you lean back into his chest, back of your head on his shoulder, and the second that you’re close enough, he kisses the side of your face, saying so soft and so slow that you’re certain no one else in the world hears it, “love you, pretty girl.”

as soon as you’re alone again, you scramble to your feet, turning around and facing him. he pulls you into him, tugs the sides of your tights back up and pulls you into his lap, legs as wrapped around him as they possibly can be. he kisses you, gently, and the tone of this entire hookup has shifted dramatically since he said those words to you again for the second time tonight.

he doesn’t ask or apologize as he grabs your tights between your legs and tears a hole in them big enough to slip inside of you again. he only laughs when he notices how shocked you look, can’t help it, and then kisses the corner of your mouth as the shock fades, replaced with the feeling of being incredibly full and extremely close.

it doesn’t take long at all for the eye contact and the rhythmic thrusts to get osamu just as close as he was before, head falling against your shoulder, arms wrapped around your lower back as he lifts off of the toilet to fuck his cock into you deeper, but he doesn’t have enough room to fuck you faster, needs more space to give you nice, long strokes. he leans your forward, both of your hands splaying out to brace yourself on either sides of the wall.

he fucks into you faster, harder, one hand under your lower back, the other on your stomach to pull you back onto his cock, and you’re so perfectly warm and tight around him, look so pretty under him like this. you can feel his cock begin to pulse, streams of come ready to spray inside of your snug walls, but he pulls out at the last second, shoots his load between your legs instead, ropes of thick come landing on the insides of your thighs, the fabric of your panties and the outsides of your tights.

the two of you stay like this for a second in this exact position as osamu catches his breath and lets you recover as well. when he finally moves, he sits back down on the toilet with you on his lap and he presses a soft kiss into the bottom of your jaw. he doesn’t need to look to reach for the toilet paper. you close your eyes at the feeling of the tissue on your skin as he cleans you up as best as he can for how unplanned his release was.

“i can’t believe you tore my tights,” is the first thing that you say when you’ve recovered enough to talk.

he laughs, kissing the bottom of your jaw again and squeezing his arms around you tighter. “i’ll buy you new ones, baby, i promise.”

it’s quiet in the bathroom. you feel okay enough to keep talking, only slightly on edge about someone walking in on the conversation, but you can’t wait until you’re outside to ask him, “are you gonna fuck me again, can we just establish that? no more beating around the bush or wondering how the other feels because the situation is complicated?”

“can you- can we just-,” you’re struggling to finish the question because it feels dumb, futile given the fact that you’ve already told him that you love him. but you suppose that the question is trying to be so much more than that, you just can’t communicate it correctly.

“oh, sweetheart, i want to do so much more than fuck you,” he says, hand moving up to cup your face, “i want to love you in every way possible.”

your face is so hot, stomach flipping, and the only words you can say in response are a breathy, “i can’t believe you just said the most romantic thing i’ve ever heard in a bathroom stall.”

“in a fancy bathroom stall,” he corrects, still beaming, “but then, i should probably wait until we go back outside to ask if you’ll be my girlfriend?”

“yea, samu! probably!” you say, but you can’t hide your matching smile.

“and is this before or after i invite you back to my place tonight?” he asks, and you’re 99% sure he’s fucking with you now, asking you all of these questions like this just to get you riled up. not that you were questioning the validity of them, just the timing and the tone.

you feel like you’re combusting. how are you going to explain to your friends and family about how you and osamu got together? on your first date? after you told him you loved him? after you fucked him in the bathroom of a nice restaurant? but don’t worry that was also after he told you that he loved you back. oh, but he asked you to be his girlfriend before you went back to his place and after you had sex in the bathroom, yes, you get it now.

you lower your head into his shoulder, exhaling a big sigh as he picks your head up and presses a kiss into your forehead, cheek, jaw, and then your lips. you’re wearing a slight pout even after he pulls away and he laughs. “alright, alright,” he nods, “how about i ask you now if you’ll go back to my place and i can ask if you’ll be my girlfriend there?”

“deal,” you say.“best deal i’ve ever made,” he says back.

♡ tori's polls ♡ fav moment of ch5 !!!!!!

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

(if any of these are wrong, off and you notice it LMK so i can fix em!)

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

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avatarchic · 1 month

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works in progress !

updated: 2024/04/03 note all content tags and blurbs are not finalized and may appear different in published works ; fics are not posted in any particular order

bold = current focus

(?) = undecided content tag

started works

BURNED INTO OUR SKIN zuko x reader, soulmate!au, sfw, oneshot When you turn sixteen, and your soul mark burns itself into your skin, you're proven just how strong fate can be.

HOMEWRECKER gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru, university!au, nsfw, oneshot After your landlord kicks you out, you have nowhere to go, so your best friends invite you to stay with them. When you said yes, you didn't expect to become a third wheel.

BRING ME TO THE PACIFIC shinso hitoshi x reader, pacific rim!au, sfw, oneshot Years after losing your brother to a Kaiju, you're brought back to pilot an old Jaeger as a last-ditch attempt to save the world.

BABY'S BREATH miya atsumu x reader, hanahaki!au, sfw, oneshot Miya Atsumu is the biggest idiot you've ever met. He irritates you to no end—simply being in the same room with him is enough to raise your temper. Why, then, does your breath catch whenever you see him?

accepted requests / upcoming [ FULL ]

SERVING THE SULTAN [TBD] aizawa shota x male!reader, aladdin!au, nsfw, oneshot

UNUSUAL COMBINATIONS [TBD] bakugo katsuki, tamaki amijiki, todoroki shoto, yo shindo, monoma neito, kaminari denki x reader (paired), nsfw, headcanons

MINE, ALL MINE [TBD] bakugo katsuki x kirishima eijiro x kaminari denki x midoriya izuku x todoroki shoto x reader, nsfw, oneshot

ROCKSTAR [TBD] karasuno x reader (separately), sfw, headcanons

OFFER [TBD] kenma kozume, sakusa kiyoomi, suna rintaro x reader (separately), nsfw, headcanons

LESSONS [TBD] gojo satoru x reader x nanami kento, nsfw, oneshot

LITTLE WHITE LIES [TBD] monoma neito, kirishima eijiro, todoroki shoto x reader (separately), nsfw(?), headcanons

PLAYTHING [TBD] kaminari denki, kirishima eijiro, ida tenya, sero hanta, shinso hitoshi x male!reader (separately), nsfw, headcanons

APPLE OF MY EYE [TBD] akaashi keiji, kenma kozume, kita shinsuke, oikawa toru, miya atsumu, miya osamu x reader (separately), sfw, headcanons

SHARING IS CARING [TBD] todoroki shoto x reader x bakugo katsuki, nsfw(?), oneshot

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

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bettermiya · 1 year

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Dinner Guest

Pairing: Osamu Miya x AFAB!Reader

WC: 2.8k words.

Triggers: Cannibalism, Abusive Ex, Nonconsensual Drugging, Consensual Handjob, Human Butchering against an NPC, Violence, Blood. MDNI. 18+.

Summary: Osamu offers you a perfect meal. Horror!AU. Hannibal-esque!AU.

You get home from work exhausted, but the smell coming from the kitchen is enough to wash away some of the day’s stresses. You drop your things off by the front door and slip off your shoes- you’ll get everything put into its proper place later. Right now, the aroma from the kitchen is drawing you in like one of those cartoons, a beckoning finger that pulls you forward until you are practically on top of Osamu.

“What are you making for dinner?” You peer around his broad frame to stare at the pots and pans on the stove. The smell is divine. Osamu turns to you and presses a kiss into your hair.

“Hayashi rice.” He says, letting his face linger against your head for a few moments as he takes in your scent. “It’s almost ready. Go sit, I’ll bring it over to the table.” He lightly nudges you with his hip before going back to his cooking. You linger a moment, mouth watering while he tends to the meat and sauce. He gives a small huff of a laugh and uses his chopsticks to cut free a tiny corner of meat- it’s so tender that it easily gives way. After carefully dipping it in the sauce, he cups a hand beneath the gently steaming morsel and offers it to you. As you lean in, so does he, and he meets your eyes as he gently blows on the hot food.

“Open, darlin’.”

You do, and he eases the food into your awaiting mouth. A bit of the sauce drips onto your chin, but you hardly notice. You’re melting with the warm, comforting bite. Osamu notices, however, and before you can step away to go to the dining room, he brushes his tongue slowly over your skin. Warmth spreads through the rest of your body as the tip of his tongue teases your lower lip. You lean closer, expecting a kiss, but he pulls away with a grin. “That’s all yer gettin’ for now. Go get settled ‘n get off yer feet. I’ll be done soon.”

The apartment you share with Osamu is open and spacious. You pad on sock feet from Osamu’s kingdom of ranges and spices and knife blocks into the adjoined dining room with its intimate, small table already set for two. There are candles glowing on either side of a beautiful centerpiece of fresh flowers. You take in their subtle perfume as you finally pull out your chair and take a seat. As you sit there, you close your eyes, thinking you’ll rest them just for a moment while you wait for Osamu.

You are awakened by the aroma of the rice and beef and the dark demi-glace and the sensation of Osamu’s breath against your neck. He has pulled his chair very close to yours. He kisses your jaw and nips at the lobe of your ear. Feeling a smile cross your face, you lift a hand to brush through his short hair. “Sorry. Work took a lot out of me today.”

“That’s alright, darlin’. I don’t mind. Ya look pretty when ya sleep.”

Dinner is a quiet affair. He asks you about your day in low tones in between taking bites of food and brushing his hand against your thigh and the small of your back. You are nodding by the time you finish, the stew of beef, carrots, onions, mushrooms sitting warm and comforting within your stomach. Though it’s a little embarrassing and you feel a bit guilty for not being able to stay awake long enough to spend the evening together sprawled on the couch like usual, you love the way he gathers you from the chair into his arms so easily and carries you back to bed.

His hands are strong and warm as they gently unbutton and slide away your clothes. He teases you with soft caresses and little kisses and dresses you again into a soft, clean shirt that smells of him. You try to groggily protest and ask for more attention from his mouth and hands, but he reminds you that you’ve had a hard day. “Sleep a little, and we’ll see.”

When you drift up from sleep, he is climbing into bed beside you, having finished cleaning up from dinner and changing into his own pajamas, which consist only of the soft pants of the set. You realize you are wearing his shirt that completes the set. It seems fitting. He curls up behind you, dragging you against his chest. His lips find the base of your neck, the curve of your shoulder; his teeth tug at the lobe of your ear. You’re still lingering in that hazy place between reality and dreams, sleep threatening to pull you back into its embrace.

One of his strong hands nudges up the hem of the shirt you’re wearing and glides along the plains of your bare stomach. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your underwear and gently tease the warmth between your thighs. You drift back to sleep riding waves of pleasure. Your dreams are filled with his soft murmurs.

You wake up to the sound of a door slamming. Groggily, you grab your phone and check the time. The glow of the screen scatters spots across your field of vision; the blocky numbers tell you it is early in the morning. The space beside you on the bed still holds a bit of warmth from Osamu. He must have just gotten up to go to the restaurant. Sometimes he leaves in the wee hours of the morning to buy special ingredients from the markets- usually various cuts of meat he carries home in big, dark bags. You’ve asked before to go with him, but he says there’s no reason for you to get up so early when you work such long hours and besides, you don’t really want to see a bunch of animal carcasses being chopped up, do you?

Normally you sleep through his absence and by the time you wake, he is back with all of his meat neatly packed away in his large freezer box and he is in the kitchen preparing you breakfast. It’s very rare that you wake up with him still gone. He makes sure to tire you out enough so that you never have to be alone while you are home, or so he likes to say.

You sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, and rub at your heavy eyelids. You’re having a hard time keeping yourself awake, but you want to check on the loud slamming of the door. You’re pretty sure you can also hear heavy footfalls coming down the hall. Osamu is usually so quiet, especially when you’re sleeping. Your mind still feeling a bit hazy, you stand up and pad barefoot toward the bedroom door, only for it to be shoved open.

Fear pours over you like cold water. You still feel very foggy, but there is no mistaking the figure who is standing in the doorway. It’s your ex. You have no idea how they found you after all this time. You deleted all of your old social media. You changed your number. You moved in with Osamu in a completely different city. The apartment, the restaurant– everything is in his name. You even went through the trouble of changing your name legally to prevent this exact outcome.

Your mind is not working quickly enough. You open your mouth to dumbly ask how they found you, but before you can, they are storming forward and shoving you backward. You stagger, but manage to remain standing. Lifting both of your hands, you try to speak, but they strike you across the face so violently, stars burst across your vision and you drop to your knees. Pain flares in your knees and your head; you feel like your brain has rattled about in your skull. Blood is pooling in your mouth.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” They’re screaming obscenities. They kick you in the stomach, and a mixture of blood and saliva bursts from your mouth and sprinkles the carpet. Suddenly, they snatch a handful of your hair and drag you from the room. Your brain is finally beginning to catch up with what is happening. You scream and kick and grab for their hands, trying to make them release you.

They stop, and for one moment, you think maybe by some miracle, they will stop and listen to reason. Instead, they grab the side of your head and slam it into the wall. The fight goes out of you, and you are on the verge of losing consciousness as they begin pulling you again. You tilt back your head to look up at them, and see Osamu standing behind them. There is a strange look to his face, one you haven’t seen before. His eyes are cold and calculating, his jaw is tight. He lifts both of his hands and claps them together hard against your ex’s ears.

They drop you, and your head knocks against the tiled floor of the kitchen. You didn’t even realize they had dragged you this far. You can hear your ex screaming, but it sounds dull and far away. Turning your head, you watch as Osamu grabs them by the throat and easily lifts them up, slamming them down hard onto the pristine surface of the kitchen island. From where you are lying, you can’t see exactly what happens next. Osamu lifts a knife and it comes down; your ex stops screaming, but their legs, dangling over the edge of the island, are kicking wildly.

Osamu kneels down beside you and very tenderly cups the back of your head, lifting you into a sitting position. Your head is throbbing in time with the rhythm of your frantic heartbeat and the spinning and tilting of the room is making you very nauseous. “Can ya hear me, darlin’?” His voice is very low, very calm…. almost dangerously so.

You try to nod, but that makes your head hurt worse. “Yes.” You finally manage.

“I’m real sorry,” He murmurs, kissing your temple. His eyes linger on your mouth, where your busted lip is still leaking blood onto your chin. Cupping your jaw, he leans forward and brushes his tongue along your skin and lower lip, cleaning away the smear of red from your skin. “I thought I gave ya enough to let ya sleep through this whole nasty business.”

You look at him confused. He lifts you up and sits you down in one of the dining room chairs. You can still see into the kitchen. Your ex is grabbing at the knife, which is sticking out of the middle of his throat. Your head is spinning. Everything feels just a bit unreal. Osamu steps away, but he returns quickly to your side, pressing a towel with ice inside against the back of your head. He lifts your hand and presses it to the towel. “Hold this here.” You nod and hold it.

“What did you mean before…?”

“Mm… I put something in yer drink tonight. Just somethin’ to help ya sleep. I thought it’d be enough to keep ya sleepin’ til I was done with…,” He stood up and walked over to your ex, whose struggling seems to be growing more sluggish. “Ya see, I told ‘em where to find us… the plan was to take care of ‘em without ya havin’ to be involved, but… things didn’t quite go as I planned. S’okay, though, darlin’... y’all never have to worry about ‘em ever again.”

Your mind is slow to comprehend what is happening. You watch Osamu pull free the knife, see the spray of blood arc upward like a fountain. You blink, slowly, and when you open your eyes again, you see the flash of a large cleaver. Things unfold before you in hazy flashes. Your ex’s head disappears from the counter. Osamu methodically begins butchering the body. Cuts of meat are wrapped and bound together with twine. The various cuts of meat are stacked neatly together. Osamu hums as he works. This all feels like a dream… a strange nightmare. He comes to check on you off and on during his work.

He takes away the ice and towel. His lips brush against your brow. Kneeling in front of you, he takes your hands and kisses your palms, the tips of your fingers. “Are ya feelin’ okay?”

Your head is still hurting, but the nausea has gone away. It must be the shock and the ice you had been holding to your battered head- you’re shivering. He touches your cheek. You are staring at the neat, wrapped packages that had once been your ex, but the fear and revulsion you should be feeling are not there. Not yet. Osamu stands again and moves back into the kitchen.

Over the next few minutes, he carries everything from the kitchen to the large freezer. “We’ll have a lovely feast when yer feelin’ better.” He promises. When he’s done, he scoops you up and carries you back to bed. After tucking you in, he kisses your forehead.

“Try to rest. I’ll keep a check on ya.”

You wake late the next day to the smell of breakfast. Osamu sets a tray beside you on the bed. There is miso soup, rice, and strips of meat. Your gaze lingers on the meat, thinking back to the strange dream you had the previous night. It must have been a dream. It couldn’t have been real, and it all seems so strange and hazy in the warm glow of the sunlight spilling into the bedroom. Osamu smiles and strokes your cheek. “I hope yer hungry.”

You eat. He watches, smiling calmly the entire time. His hand is stroking your bare thigh while you eat. When you’re done, he offers soft words of praise and draws you into his lap. You are more awake now with the full breakfast settling nicely in your stomach. The previous night begins to come into more focus. You remember the blood… you remember the meat… you think hard about the taste of the cooked meat and rice and soup on your tongue.

But his hand is drifting down… down… teasing and working between your legs while his mouth tastes your skin…

You stop thinking so hard and lose yourself in the touch… the taste…

“Yer such a good girl,” He murmurs into your neck, his voice a low rumble at the back of his throat. His touch is slow at first, a steady stroking in lazy circles. You lose track of your thoughts. Your awareness is shrinking; all you can focus on is his finger tracing those careful loops between your legs. You try to help him along by arching your hips into his hand, but he hums against your skin and gently lowers you back onto the bed. He leans over you, his hand still moving so slowly and deliberately.

“There’s no need to rush,” He says, moving his mouth to yours. His teeth catch your lower lip and scrape against the still tender flesh there. You taste a bit of your own blood, and so does he as his tongue slides into your mouth. His finger presses deeper, slowly. Your back arches. Heat is pooling in your abdomen. His finger eases back, circles. He breaks the kiss before his finger slides in again so he can hear the low moan escape your bloodied lips. He hooks his other arm beneath your head, tugging you closer. The fingers of his free hand curl beneath your jaw and tilt your head up while his thumb brushes over your lips.

He presses his thumb into your mouth, and as you run your tongue along his skin, he purrs. “Tha’s my girl.”

Two fingers now. They press into you slowly, deeply. You whimper around the thumb in your mouth as your hips arch upward into his touch. His teeth mark the skin where your neck and shoulder meet; he sucks and licks the place where he bites. He allows your hips to rise against his hand while he teases you, his fingers moving in and out in a steady rhythm. You are panting, gasping, bucking against him. This time, when his fingers slide in, he hooks them and strokes as you cry out.

Your body is quivering. Your thoughts have scattered. There was something you were thinking of, but his hands, his mouth… his tongue… his teeth… you can barely focus on anything other than the sparks of heat and pleasure in the places where he touches you. He turns your face toward him and kisses you as his fingers continue their work.

“I’m real proud of ya,” He says, his hot breath washing over your temple. His touch draws another shuddering cry from your lips. Your whole body is alight. You are beginning to tire, but he is relentless in his ministration. Again… again… your body arches into his hand… you gasp and tremble… you whimper…

When you are utterly spent, he slides his fingers free and brings them to his lips, running his tongue along them while he holds your gaze. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Delicious.”

#osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x you #osamu miya x y/n #osamu x reader #yandere haikyuu #written by iwachan

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omiyagiri · 2 years

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Love And War

pairing: osamu miya x reader cw: none word count: 1.3k

summary: Osamu loves to pick you up like a sack of rice, so it is only fair you return the favor.

Osamu jumped a bit when you wrapped your arms around his torso. Tall and muscular as he was, you had to firmly press yourself against his back to get both of your arms around him, using your right hand to grab the wrist of your left.

“Dinner’s ready soon, just gotta wait for the rice.” Osamu chuckled at your clinginess, drying his hands on the towel hanging next to the sink. “Did you finish your work, or just taking a break?”

Your response was to tighten your grip, take a deep breath, and exclaim a hearty “The time for revenge has come, Osamu Miya!” With all the strength you could muster, you squeezed your arms harder against his torso and pulled them upwards.

Your boyfriend let out a surprised grunt and you repeated the motion. Despite your best efforts—you already started to feel a bit dizzy from the lack of oxygen—the only thing that seemed to move was Osamu’s shirt being pulled slightly upwards.

“What are you-”

Osamu’s confused laughter was cut short as you released your hold for a brief second, crouching down instead and repositioning your arms on his hips.

“Vengeance will be mine!” You shouted, a bit more strained this time, but just as threatening. Another deep breath and up your arms went again, using your whole body as support. This time, not even his shirt moved, firmly trapped between your grip and his body.

“Just you wait!” You managed to squeal, feeling even more fired up when you heard him laugh.

Osamu Miya was the sweetest man on this planet. It was something you needn’t waste time debating with anyone, as it would be just as useless as trying to debate whether the sun was hot or if lemons were sour—it was a simple fact of life.

One of the many things that earned him that title, was his belief that the best way to get you out of the way, whenever you were standing in his path, is to simply lift you off the ground. Either placing you a few centimeters away or keeping you up in the air while he finished whatever task needed to be done.

“You could never be in the way, sweetness!” Had been his response when you asked why he doesn’t just ask you to move. He had sounded almost offended at the mere suggestion of you being anything close to a bother to him. Years of playing volleyball, followed by the daily heavy lifting of supplies, meant Osamu had no problem whatsoever carrying you around like a sack of rice.

It was obnoxiously attractive, of course. The way he just swept you off your feet like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way his muscles moved underneath your palms when you placed your hands on his shoulders, scowling as he returned your pout with a crooked grin. The way he sometimes only needed one arm, tugged right underneath your butt, as he lifted you off the ground with no problems, other hand holding whatever tool he needed at the moment.

It was also awfully charming. As he always made sure to press a small kiss against your nose or your shoulder while he let you down gently, teasing smile on his lips as he gave you a small wink and a “Thanks, Sweetness.” As if you weren’t already hopelessly in love with him! Osamu, of course, knew the effect he had on you, so it was only fair to return the favor.

“Sweetness, you’re only going to hurt yourself.” Osamu laughed, finally having caught on to what you were doing.

You ignored him, feeling the blood drain from your head as your arms started to hurt. Still, you weren’t ready to give up yet. Just as you loosened your grip to start another attempt, your whole body moved downwards as Osamu bent his knees slightly.

His firm butt against your crotch,—you were about curse at the fact that he managed to move both of you with such a small gesture when you were fairly sure some part of your brain had died thanks to lack of oxygen—Osamu jumped slightly.

You squealed, tightening your grip to make sure you wouldn’t fall backwards. He only laughed, patting your arms with one hand as he turned his head to make sure you were ok.

“Aha!” You exclaimed triumphantly, readjusting your position to firmly stand on the ground. “That is what you get! How does it feel to get swept up your feet this easily?”

Osamu’s laughter grew louder. “Yup, ya got me good.”

“Don’t think that was it!” Before he had a change to react, your arms released their hold as your fingers shot to his sides. Faster than speed itself, they traveled across his skin, fingertips digging into the firm flesh.

“Ya know I’m not ticklish.” Osamu chuckled. Of course you knew, it was a fact that pained you (and Atsumu) every day. You, on the other hand, not having been born as god’s favorite and blessing to this world, were incredibly ticklish. A fact Osamu liked to exploit every chance he got.

“Oh yeah?” You taunted him regardless, fingers still wandering across his torso. “So why are you laughing?”

Sweet bubbling giggles mixed with low, bemused chuckles as his whole body shook against yours—Osamu was laughing so hard at your antics he had to gasp for air.

“Are you giving up yet, Miya?”

“Never!” He managed to exclaim, though a bit breathless.

“A tough opponent, I see.” Your fingers decreased their speed but maintained their intensity. “Time to use my secret weapon.”

Slipping your hands underneath his shirt, you relished in his sharp inhale. You quickly stood on your tip-toes and leaned forward, whispering a low “Victory is mine,” before gently blowing air onto the back of his neck. Immediately, Osamu arched his back, his hands gripping the sink in front of him.

Osamu Miya might be built like a Greek god, but even he had his weaknesses. Luckily for you, you were well acquainted with all of them. Placing a gentle kiss on that same spot, your hands wandered up and down his chest. You could feel the muscles in his back flex as he gripped the counter harder. You giggled against his skin, biting down before quickly releasing him and taking a few steps backwards.

Before you had time to revel in his flustered form, taunt him for this crushing defeat, he turned and swooped you off the ground in one swift motion.

“Hey!” You scowled and wrapped your arms around his neck for more support, a glint of pride in your eyes at the pink dusting his cheeks. “I won, you’re cheating!”

He lowered you just enough so you were eye-to-eye. Giving your nose a small nibble, he grinned as you scrunched it. “You’re so silly, ya know that?” He laughed against your lips before pressing his own on them.

“Hmm,” You hummed, “I think you’re just a sore loser.”

Osamu’s smile widened as he placed another kiss against the corner of your mouth before pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m pretty sure you used some unfair methods there, sweetness.”

“All is fair in love and war.”

He gave a quick chuckle as he lowered you back down onto the floor. His hands moved to cup your face and he gently squished your cheeks together. “Good thing I love you then.”

“You should, I’m very lovable!” You managed to grumble out, face still squeezed between his hands.

You felt him smile against your lips as he gave you another kiss before finally releasing you. Determined to stay winning today, you quickly got on your tip-toes again and stole another kiss before turning and running away.

“I love you more, Osamu!” You yelled over your shoulder, unable to resist the smile spreading across your face when you saw him grinning back at you—shaking his head, cheeks a warm shade of pink, eyes radiating the same love and affection you knew were in yours.

by elayndia cross-posted on ao3

Taglist—

@sexyandcringe

#osamu miya #haikyuu!!#hq!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #hq headcanons #hq x reader #fluff #osamu scenarios #osamu x y/n #hq drabbles #hq x you #hq fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #reader insert #elayndia

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imagineanime2022 · 2 years

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He Comes To Your Rescue *Part 3*

Tetsuro Kuroo X Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi X Reader, Satori Tendo X Reader

Summary: You get caught up in something and he defends you

Part 1- Toru Oikawa, Hajime Iwaizumi, Kotaro Bokuto

Part 2 - Atsumu Miya, Osamu Miya, Rentaro Suna, Kei Tsukishima

Part 4 - Yuji Terushima, Kiyoomi Sakusa

Part 5 - Tobio Kageyama

Kuroo Tetsuro

🧪 You had just finished watching a match with Nekoma, Kuroo had texted you once they were back in the changing rooms and asked for you to save them seats at the Kurasuno match so you set off to find some seats for him and Kenma. 🧪 You managed to find three seats in a nice place and texted Kuroo to tell him where you were for when he came looking. 🧪 The match was so intense you didn’t even realize that there was someone approaching you until they spoke. 🧪 “Bet these seats are free.” “Actually someone is going to be sitting there soon.” “Sure they are, you never had any friends before I doubt that’s changed.”

You looked up upon recognising the voice, she was the old bully from your middle school. You sighed as you realized that the seat probably weren’t worth this and there were still loads free, you were sure she’d only come over here to tease you “I’ll just find somewhere else to si-” “Where are you going Kitten?” You smiled at the sound of Kuroo’s voice, he wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his head against your shoulder. “There’s no way that you aren’t messing with her… Right?” The girl in front of you asked. “What is that supposed to mean?” Kuroo asked, straightening to his full height. “Maybe you haven’t noticed but there’s better out there.” She smirked as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You mean like you?” He asked. “Well-” “Kuroo can you stop messing with her and tell her to get lost? I want to sit down.” Kenma was the one to speak this time as he pushed past his larger friend and sat in one of the seats. “You heard him get lost will you.” He waved her off as he pulled you back to your seat, you were playing with your sleeves “Hey Kitten.” Kuroo pressed his lips to the side of your hair as he watched the girl retreat into the crowd “you okay?” “Mmhm.” You hummed. “You know you're my first and only choice.” He assured you as he squeezed you against his side as best he could in the seats. “You two are disgusting.” Kenma mumbled his eyes not moving from the match in front of him. “Don’t worry you’ll understand one day, Kenma.” Kuroo winked at him and you playfully slapped his thigh. “Pay attention, you wanted to watch this match.” You smiled and then pressed a kiss to the side of your head before leaning back to watch the match.

Wakatoshi Ushijima

🦅 Ushijima doesn’t really pay attention to much but he pays attention to you, he notices a lot and has become accustomed to the look on your face when you want to be out of a situation. 🦅 He wasn’t there this time though, you were out with your friends and they had decided that they wanted to go for a couple of drinks and they all slowly disappeared as they got more and more drunk. 🦅 You were contemplating leaving considering all your friends had driven here yourselves, your choice solidified when each of your friends had come up to you to say that they were leaving with someone else. 🦅 You texted Ushi to tell him that you’d be home soon but he called you before you could get too far.

You answered the phone with a small smile on your face as you saw the caller ID “Hello Ushi.” You greeted him. “How long will it take you to get home?” He asked. “Well I’m walking so-” “Where are your friends?” He asked immediately. “They all found someone to go home with.” You answered “it’s fine we’re not that far from the club they chose, it shouldn't take long for me to get home.” “I’ll meet you.” He said. “No you don’t have to do that.” You tried to get him to stop but he wasn’t having it. “I’m going to meet you, tell me where you are.” He ordered and you sighed before giving him the name of the road that you’d wait for him on. The moment that you stopped moving you became very aware of a figure behind you, they seemed to have stopped at the same time that you had, you pulled out your phone and text Ushijima alerting him to your worry, he texted back telling you that he’d be there soon. “Hi there, you look like you're waiting for something.” You looked up, you didn’t recognise the guy in front of you but you smiled all the same. “Waiting for my boyfriend.” You answered, slipping your phone back in your pocket and wrapping your hand around the house key in your coat pocket. “Really?” He asked as he stepped closer to you, you swallowed as you looked in the direction that you knew Ushijima was going to appear in. “Why’d he leave you out here all on your own?” “I was with some friends.” You answered. “Really? They as pretty as you?” He asked, you mouth was dry and your eyes were cast down to the floor until your heard someone call your name, you looked over relieved when you saw your boyfriend walking towards you, the man that was questioning you took in a breath and stepped away from you, you stepped away from him and towards your boyfriend who pulled you into him immediately. “You are?” He asked, addressing the man that had been speaking to you seconds before. “I- I was just making sure that she was okay.” He answered. “I’ll go now.” He almost fell over trying to get away from you. “Are you okay my love?” Ushijima asked switching his attention to you. “I’m okay.” You nodded “I was about to stab him with my keys though.” “Mmm, well that will never happen again.” He promised “and you won’t be going out with these friends unless I can pick you up after.” “Ushi-” “Come on, it's late, we need to get home.” He said leaving no room for argument but you were definitely going to have to talk about that some other time.

Satori Tendo

🍫 Tendo met you before he left for France and you guys had a long distance relationship for a little while. You were still studying but you surprised him when you got a job in France as a team manager. 🍫 When Tendo started getting hired to make stuff for big events, you were hired, you were supposed to be organizing schedules for all of the chocolatiers in the company but most people were looking for your boyfriend. 🍫 It was getting to the point where you were starting to turn people away because there was no way to get all of the work done in time for the events, most people were understanding but there was always someone who pushed their luck. 🍫 You were working overtime, in your living room phone between your ear and shoulder as you listened to the event coordinator talk.

“What date do you need this done by?” You asked. “30th of this month.” He answered. “Mmm, and who were you hoping for?” You asked. “Satori Tendo.” He answered. “Unfortunately that won’t be possible, he is fully booked for the next few months.” You explained. “This is a very important event.” He spoke and you sighed. “That does not change his availability sir.” You answered as Tendo leaned over your shoulder pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I want to speak to a manager.” He ordered and you rolled your eyes. “You're speaking to one.” You answered. “Well then I want to speak to your manager.” He answered, you started typing an email as you listened to his complaining. “My manager isn’t working today, you’ll have to wait until Monday.” You explained. “That will be too late!” He shouted down the phone but before you could say anything in return, the phone was taken from you. “My manager has given you her answer, I won’t be at your event thanks.” Tendo hung up the phone after saying that throwing it onto the seat before putting his hand out to you “I need you to taste something for me.” “Tendo I love you but you can’t just say that to a client.” You scolded him and he rolled his eyes walking around so that he was in front of you picking you up and walking towards the kitchen. “He can’t talk to you like that either.” Tendo mumbled as he sat you on one of the stools and pointed at two small chocolates. “Which one is better for that fundraiser?” He asked. “Which one?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and popping the first one in your mouth. “The orphanage one.” He answered, watching you taste the other one. “The kids will like that one.” You pointed at the first one and he nodded. “You're okay though, right?” He asked. “Hm oh yeah, that happens all the time when your boyfriend is the most popular chocolatier in the world.” You winked and he shook his head and pressed a kiss to your lips.

Request Here

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oneshot #tetsuro kuroo #tetsuro kuroo imagine #tetsuro kuroo oneshot #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi oneshot #ushijima wakatoshi imagine #satori tendo #satori tendo imagine #satori tendo oneshot #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader

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chaoticallyfragmentary · 1 year

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MSBY ‘Tsumu x Partner Reader

Part1

Well, inspiration struck and here’s the second part. Just Atsumu trying to cope with being told he’s lost almost 6 years of his memories. I’m no doc so don’t come at me for medical inconsistencies. Reader is introduced here.

“Start with yer stupid questions,” Atsumu croaked out, not liking the hollowed-out expression on his brother’s face or the way his hand was still trembling, encased in his, like ‘Samu needed to make sure that he was alive. He felt an unfamiliar rush of hot panic inside him, the feeling of something dreadful looming. What the fuck happened? He swallows thickly and looks away from his brother.

“What year is it, Miya san?”

‘Samu’s hand squeezes his as the beeping of the monitors increased. Oh fer fucks sake! Did they think he was an ingrate? Of course, he knew the year, “It is 2017”

The doctor made a note, not giving anything away as ‘Samu’s sharp intake of breath interrupts the silence.

“What were you doing before?”

Heh? His mouth shaped around a truly impressive sneer as he tried to hide the fluttering of anxiety that swelled from his stomach to his chest. “was hyping myself up for the MSBY recruitment. Of course, I’d get picked—Oh fucking shit, ‘Samu, did yer tell them that the bestest setter in Japan is stuck at hospital. I’d hate fer them to miss out on me as setter”

His insides roiled the longer ‘Samu went without giving him an answer. “’Samu?”

“Ya lost yer head or what? Osamu?” his voice cracked.

“What happened? What the fuck happened Samu?” he tried to demand, but instead it came out as a plea, voice breaking into something truly pathetic as his heart hammered behind his ribs, feeling like his chest might crack open from the panic.

“Ya quack, y’ll tell me what the fuck is wrong with me or I’ll—” his Kansai accent started coming out stronger.

“You need to calm down ‘Tsumu. Just calm down brother, I’m right here. It’ll be okay, I’m right here.”

“What the fuck will be okay ‘Samu?” his demand probably sounded petulant but he was sick and tired of being treated as a child. He grits his teeth, squared his trembling shoulders, preparing himself to tell the doctor to fuck off, thank you very fucking much.

“Miya san, it is the year 2023. You are the official setter for the MSBY black jackals.”

Fuckin’hell. ‘Samu watches as he squeezes his eyes shut, blowing out a deep breath, lifting his hands to cover his face.

“’Samu?”

“Yeah, yer the setter for MSBY so ya need to shut yer trap about that already.” He tried for a smile, but it fell flat.

His anxiety vanished, leaving behind in its place something cold and vacant. Terror. Six years of his life, lost. Does his body remember what it learned? If he went back, could he set for the team properly? Just who the fuck was on the team? What? Vacant cold of terror clashing with a renewed surge of hot anxiety.

“You had an injury during one of your matches, Miya san. You had a terrible concussion and we had been preparing for memory loss being a potential side effect. It is temporary, I assure you.”

“What do you mean?” He didn’t even recognize his own voice, so cold and so low.

“It was during a match with EJP Raijin, ‘Tsumu. Suna brought yer here, he was crying, that idiot.” ‘Tsumu blindly reaches out to grab ‘Samu’s other hand, clinging to him.

“Tell me somebody got it on camera ‘Samu?”he croaks.

“Of course, they did ‘Tsumu.” The words felt leaden on his tongue, but for his brother, Osamu will do anything.

“’Tsumu, ya remember yer tutor?”

“Hah? Her? Of course, I remember Ms goody two shoes. What do ya think she might be doing now ‘Samu? Why would y—”

A roar from behind the door interrupted the placidity of Miya Osamu turning his brother’s life upside down.

“Where the fuck is my husband? Ya whining pathetic scrubs, ya try to stop me from seeing that idiot now that he’s up from his stupid beauty sleep, I’ll turn your spine inside out ya hear?”

Muffled voices, a thud against the door as Kita-san? Tries to calm you down, with Suna holding you back. Atsumu’s apprehension sank at the promise of having Kita-san here. He always knows how to make things okay.

Tsumu swears he recognizes the voice, Ms goody two shoes. But that is not possible, right? ‘Samu???!!!

“Three fucking days Rin!! That is my husband out there—”

Osamu wrenches open the door, as Tsumu sees you. Wild curls tumbling down, something feral in your eyes as Suna is whispering to you, voice low and soothing. As soon as you see him, you heave a sigh, face softening, relief so palpable he kind of wants to cry. You, holy shit, when exactly did you become so pretty? He might have already nursed a teeny tiny crush on you but, before all that,

“’Samu,” he began, trying to keep his voice calm, despite the painful thudding inside his chest, failing to hide the blade of panic slicing his vocal cords. “Why is Ms Goody two shoes screaming bloody murder about her,” and the word almost strangled him as he said it, “husband?”

Your brown eyes blew wide, feeling an uncomfortable amount of your own throat suddenly, sensing in unfortunate detail, how it starts to close up. You take in a short, choppy breath. Your chest stuttering on an inhale, mouth open but no words come out.

The quack doctor, clearly displeased with the recent events, adds in an irritatingly calm voice, “She is referring to you Miya san. In the last six years, you got married.”

Nobody was surprised as Atsumu laid back down on the bed, closed his eyes and pretended everything was a nightmare, narrowly resisting the urge to just scream. Why is this happening to him?

You look at Osamu, the lines around your face strung tight, a battle fought across your face to still your expression, suppress whatever emotion dared to be known.

Oh, he doesn’t remember.

#Miya Atsumu #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader #msby black jackal #msby atsumu #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #injury #married atsumu #recovery #hq atsumu #hq osamu #hq fic

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emmyrosee · 5 months

Note

ABSJSNDSKDKSNDNDDJDJDBDIS I HAVE AN IDEA I WANNA SHARE WITH YOU SO BAD CAUSE I JUST KNOW YOU’D GO INSANE OVER IT WITH ME 👀

I was literally out shopping today and I was extremely lightheaded cause I needed water and this idea did NOT help with that as I was passing the men’s clothing section 🤨

but omg purposefully buying Osamu shirts every so often that are just slightly too small for him. namely compression shirts and t-shirts. I just really like his arms okay 😐? And he fully knows you’re doing it on purpose so you can admire him and he DOES NOT MIND ONE BIT. I fully believe his arms would be defined in a bulky SWEATER do u know how hard that is to do? he obviously doesn’t.

I love him ☹️

anon <3

DAWG THE WAY HE MAKES ME FROTH AT THE CHOMPERS AND BITES THE BARS IN MY CAGE-

just him coming home once upon a time to just merely pout about how the shirt he got is somehow too small for him, and you simply shrug and tell him to model it anyways because hey, he's too pretty to pout okay?

so he stalks into the bedroom, leaving you in the living room to wait for your man to show you where he wants to modify the fabric.

and then. OH AND THEN.

he comes around the hallway, cheeks a little warm from the effort of pulling the shirt over those massive shoulders and beefy arms and you know threads had to have been popped wildly just to get it over his head. AND DONT LOOK AT ME BUT I JUst find him super sinched at the waist, but a little soft near his tummy, which is even more shown from the tightness of the shirt.

"see?" he whines, pinching the shirt in his fingers. "it's too tight... i could never wear this out!"

meanwhile, you're not sure if you've ever been more attracted to him.

he just looks so big, so beefy and thick, you cant begin to try and pull your eyes off of him. he's so defined it hurts, and god you want to unhinge your jaw and bite that mammoth arm thats practically hulking from under the shirt.

"yeah shame you can only wear it here hey wow thats so funny you can only wear it here isnt that good though you always say how you need more lounge clothes-"

he quirks a brow, "are... you okay, babe? you’re talking really fast.”

You take a deep breath in and slowly let it out, flashing him the biggest set of flirt eyes you can muster, “you look really, really good, osamu.”

His brows raise. You nod.

“Like… really good?”

“Good enough where if you tried to return the shirt, I’d burn the receipt.”

“Okay, well don’t burn it,” he snickers, pulling you in for a hug. “We can just pretend like the shirt fits me perfectly and wear it.”

“You’re not wearing that outside.”

“Why?”

“Uh, because people will throw themselves at you? Duh?”

He offers you a laugh, clearly not taking into full account about how serious you are, but thats okay.

hopefully there wont come a day you have to show it.

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ilsanslut · 9 months

Text

ABOUT VAMPIIE!

𖥻 info: vampiie aka sukunas cumslut and ryusei's aspiring b/himbo g/bf. 22. pan. gender-fluid. she/he/they. virgo. est. adhd.

𖥻 fandoms: blue lock. jujutsu kaisen. tokyo revengers. dragon ball. attack on titan. demon slayer. haikyuu. spy x family. my hero academia. hunter x hunter. genshin impact. pokemon. apex legends. overwatch. dead by daylight. my hero academia. honkai star rail. kpop. resident evil.

𖥻 socisls: c.ai. tiktok. (coming soon)

credit to @.cafekitsune for 'support' banners used in fics.

𖥻 my hunnies:

𖥻 blue lock: SHIDOU RYUSEI. bachira meguru. kunigami rensuke. michael kaiser. nagi seishiro. 𖥻 jujutsu kaisen: SUKUNA. FUSHIGURO TOJI. itadori yuji. okkotsu yuta. 𖥻 tokyo revengers: BAJI KEISUKE. RINDOU HAITANI. sanzu haruchiyo. KAWATA NAHOYA. imaushi wakasa. 𖥻 dragon ball: zamasu/black goku. BROLY. future trunks. goku. 𖥻 attack on titan: eren jaeger. reiner braun. erwin smith. connie springer. 𖥻 demon slayer: akaza. DOUMA. muzan. GYUTARO. kamado nezuko. rengoku kyojuro. KANROJI MISTURI. uzui suma. uzui tengen. 𖥻 haikyuu: MIYA OSAMU. TSUKISHIMA KEI. kozume kenma. KYOUTANI KENTAROU. IWAIZUMI HAJIME. BOKUTOU KENTAROU. TENDOU SATORI. ushijima wakatoshi. sakusa kiyoomi. rintarou suna. 𖥻 spy x family: YOR FORGER. LOID FORGER. 𖥻 my hero academia: VLAD KING. ENDEAVOR. ASHIDO MINA. BAKUGOU KATSUKI. KUROIRO SHIHAI. HADOU NEJIRE. TOMURA SHIGARAKI. dabi. shindo yo. shinsou hitoshi. utsushimi camie. MIRUKO. lady nagant. TOGA HIMIKO. hawks. 𖥻 hunter x hunter: PORTOR FEITAN. LUCILFER CHROLLO. zoldyck killua. murasaki shizuku. UVOGIN. 𖥻 genshin impact: ARATAKI ITTO. CHILDE. ZHONGLI. DILUC RAGNVINDR. KAEYA ALBERICH. wanderer. RAIDEN EI. yae miko. NEUVILLETTE. WRIOTHESLEY. xinyan. KLEE. YAOYAO. xiao. SHENHE. 𖥻 pokemon: MIMIKYU. SYLVEON. INCINEROAR. palkia. giratina. TINKATON. HATTERENE. arven. grusha. professor toro. professor kukui. leon. milo. RAIHAN. NESSA. 𖥻 apex legends: LOBA. WATTSON. LIFELINE. REVENANT. octane. MIRAGE. BLOODHOUND. fuse. maggie. catalyst. 𖥻 overwatch: RAMATTRA. GENJI SHIMADA. COLE CASSIDY. dva. zarya. reinhardt. ORISA. JUNKER QUEEN. WIDOWMAKER. REAPER. lifeweaver. baptiste. mercy. DOOMFIST. moira. ana. echo. SOJOURN. 𖥻 dead by daylight: GHOSTFACE. FENG MIN. michael myers. huntress. doctorr. THE LEGION. SPIRIT. ONI. TRICKSTER. nea karlsson. vittorio toscano. 𖥻 resident evil: LEON KENNEDY. CARLOS OLIVEIRA. NEMESIS. ADA WONG. albert wesker. jill valentine. ALCINA DIMITRESCU. tyrant. SHEVA ALOMAR. 𖥻 honkai star rail: HOOK. DAN HENG. BLADE. JING YUAN. BAILU. tingyun. kafka. SVAROG. clara. NATASHA. SERVAL. SAMPO. gepard. PELA. 𖥻 kpop: BTS. ATEEZ. TWICE. GIDLE. SEO SOOJIN. blackpink. itzy. STRAY KIDS. red velvet. aespa. LES SSERAFIM. newjeans.

#abt #vampiiebitez

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erina-writes-headcanons · 2 years

Note

hey boo! here are some ideas for some fluff you could do!

- making cake with the haikyuu boys (oikawa and atsumu would be clumsy) (osamu and akaashi would be teaching you and it would be so cute)

- surprising the haikyuu boys with a pet (like a dog)

- haikyuu boys play a prank on you by ‘forgetting’ it’s Valentine’s Day and make you mad but then surprise you afterwards

have a lovely day! x

Making Cake with Oikawa Tooru, Atsumu Miya, Osamu Miya, and Akaashi Keiji

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Yo, my best girl! Thank you so much for the ask! I am sorry for the long update, there were too many asks and I need to finish them all. Also, the college has started so my response may be a bit late.

Warning: None other than profanity

Gender: Neutral

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Oikawa Tooru

I don't want to be mean once again but if you are baking a cake together with Oikawa, the greatest king of Aoba Johsai. I am praying for a bit of good luck for you.

Oikawa could be very playful around you, so I can see him smearing a flour on your face when you are not looking at him and then laughing his ass off once he sees your surprised face.

If you try to smear the flour back at him, he would squeal and look at you with surprise but that only lasts for a second as you can see him smirking at you.

If you manage to throw something and it lands on top of his head, he would whine at you, saying that you are messing with his hairstyle, "(Y/N)-chan!! You are dirtying my hair!!" and putting a pout on his face.

Don't get fooled by his whine and pout as he looks at you with his puppy eyes because once you turn your back against the dramatic boy, he would sneak up behind you.

Once your back are facing him, he would throw an egg or a flour on top of your head, laughing his ass off and running away one you turn around and giving him a death glare.

Baking together with Oikawa found end up like a world war because of the mess in the kitchen or it could be very fluffy where the two of you going to spoon feed each other baked cakes.

Even though there was a flour, frosting and egg war with Oikawa, the cake turns out good. The two of you going to have a good laugh after cooking and cleaning up the whole kitchen.

The result is 6/10 - even though he knows how to bake a cake. I think it's better when he is doing it alone, he is too distracted by playing with you a lot.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

The counter of the kitchen is painted with white dust as a frosting cake was smeared on Oikawa and your apron. Your face with Oikawa was also some have smeared egg yolks and the flour, you know if Iwaizumi saw the condition of you and Oikawa's kitchen, he would be pissed off and smack your heads including Oikawa, upside down.

You might be wondering how the hell the kitchen became messy, flour and posting are everywhere. The answer is your boyfriend Oikawa and you. The two of you have been following each other for a long time and Oikawa was the one who started the flour and frosting war together with you.

↠ Flashback ↞

As the two of you stood side by side, you were pouring flour, a pinch of salt and baking powder together as Oikawa was turning on the oven to heat it. Putting the plastic of flour away, you didn't see Oikawa's Eyes go slanted as he looks at the opened bag of flour. Reaching out slowly, his hands grabbed a handful of flour.

The male silently follows you from the side and without any warning not sign. Everything was white and you could hear your boyfriend laughing his ass off. The white powder that was surrounding you slowly fade into the air and you could see your boyfriend laughing and hunching over the kitchen counter.

"HAHAHAHA! Oh My God, Chibi-chan! Your face is priceless!" He snickered louder, pointing at your dumbfounded face.

"....Oh, you're on, Dooru-kun," You grabbed a fistful of flour, smirking at Oikawa who immediately shriek in panic.

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❀

Atsumu Miya

Just like Oikawa, baking with Atsumu also would look like world war and your kitchen is going to be messy when the two of you are baking together.

Another world war when baking together with Atsumu, and I can see your kitchen even messier than you with Oikawa. After all, he is more competitive than the great king.

You need to shield yourself from him when it comes to baking, he won't be afraid to throw an egg at you instead of smearing it like Oikawa did to you.

He would be running around chasing you as his hands already had the cake frosting, giggling like a madman as he tries to catch you and mess your clothes with the frost.

Pouting like a baby if you manage to made a mess or smear a flour or frosting at his hair, whining that you ruined his beautiful bleached hair.

But that won't last long because he would try to smear it back to your hair and chuckle or laugh like a dolphin on a drug if he manage to make a mess on your hair.

Atsumu would also sneak some kisses on you when you were backing, hugging you from behind and kissing your shoulder teasingly just to fluster you to death.

If Oikawa and you manage to make the cake still looks decent enough to be eaten, with Atsumu... I had to be honest with you but your cake is going to look like a bomb just dropped on it.

The cake ended up with 4/10. He doesn't read the instruction at all, acting all cocky and 'I know how to bake the cake' and mostly distract you when you are baking.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Sitting on the chair and back hunched over a little bit, Atsumu places his head on top of his palm as he was watching you combine a mixture of sugar and butter with Flour, a pinch of salt and then baking powder. He does really want to help you baking a cake but unlike Osamu, he has a zero skill in cooking or baking.

Osamu would never let him cook or bake in the kitchen after the incident when he tried to make himself lunch. He almost set the kitchen on fire as the food got burnt because he forgot to add butter and oil. Plus, he kinda failed to make himself his own food. Because of that, he often steals from Osamu's lunch box or snacks.

As he notice that you were distracted by making the batter for the cake, a light bulb appears on top of his head as his lips stretched to the corner of his lips and his eyes were hooded, looking at you with a devilish stare. Standing up, Atsumu began walking up you slowly without you hearing his footsteps getting louder.

His arms slowly slide around your hips, hugging your waist as he places his chin on top of your shoulder, getting comfortable, "You need help, baby?" He asks, acting innocent and sadly, you didn't even notice it.

"Sure, can you put the flour away?" You keep mixing the batter.

"Okay," he smooches the top of your head.

Instead of feeling the plastic taken away, you were surrounded by a cloud of white smoke and powder. You could feel the powder sticking to your face as you can hear laughter from your boyfriend.

"BHAHAHAHA! You were so distracted that-" He got cuts off by an egg thrown to his head.

"Game on, Berry," you smirk.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

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❀

Osamu Miya

Baking with Osamu? Unlike Atsumu, your kitchen won't turn into another place of food battle because he knows what it feels like to clean the whole kitchen.

It wasn't really much of a surprise if you are baking cake together with Osamu and the cake turned out beautifully, simple yet beautiful in the eyes of the beholder.

He's very careful when it comes to baking cake and cooking food. Not only he can teach you baking and cooking but also he's very detailed and he can make cooking looks fun without messing the kitchen like Oikawa and Atsumu did.

His chest would be facing your back as his hands gently held onto yours while he was teaching you from behind. When baking with his S/O, the two of you would exactly look like a scene from a romantic movie.

His hands would gently lead you your hands and whisper from the back as his lips near your ears, making you flustered with the sudden physical contact with him.

Of course, Osamu noticed it when you were getting shy of his affection. He did not say it out loud but when you get embarrassed, he thinks you look cute.

There's a time he would purposely smear frosting on your face but it won't be as hardcore as Atsumu. It's just like he smear the frosting on the tip of his finger on your cheeks before chuckling at your reaction.

Overall, baking together with Osamu was definitely worth it, the two of you didn't turn your kitchen into a war zone and the cake ended up really good. It was plus and plus baking with him.

The cake ended up 9/10 even if you mess around with him. Even though he can bake a cake, he just prefers cooking and becoming a chef rather than baking, that's all.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Staring at the ingredient in front of you, you really wanna ask yourself how did you get into this situation. You're not a baker or a chef, and even if you can cook, you never make the hard one. It was only the simple ones like pancakes and stuff. You were nervous to bake a cake together with your boyfriend, Osamu Miya.

Sensing your unease the taller male glances at you as he gently held one of your hands, pulls you closer and cups your cheeks with the palm of his hand to comfort you, "(Y/N), Hey. it's okay, you told me you wanna try to bake a cake together with me. I promise I will help you in each every step," he says.

Listening to his every word, the beating of your heart was getting calmer than before. You know you can trust Osamu, even though he's just an Onigiri chef, he has some experience to make other foods, especially having a glutton twin who would often steal his food whenever he's not looking.

"Yeah, thank you, Osamu," You smile at him."

"No problem, now look at the ingredients and I will teach you how to bake a cake," sweetheart." He goes behind your back, placing the mixing bowl in front of you.

Even though the actions were innocent, you could feel his chest touching against your back and you can feel your cheeks heat up but the physical contact of your boyfriend. Seeing you getting embarrassed, Osamu couldn't;t help but let out a small smile at your cute shy face.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

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❀

Akaashi Keiji

Hear me out, I don't believe Akaashi Keiji's cooking and baking level is five stars, it's mediocre but I do believe he can still make the food homey, comforting and delicious.

However, a Baking session with Akaashi is also as worth it as if you are baking with Osamu. Your baking session with him has a full of a fluffy and romantic sessions.

He will be staying on your side, leading and instructing you carefully with the recipe book in front of him. If you had trouble, he would go on your side immediately.

Even though he's not as cheeky as Atsumu and Oikawa, I still can sense he would mear your face with flout or frosting when you are distracted as he let's out a tiny laugh.

Would stare at your face lovingly as your eyes focusing the frost of the cake as he thinks 'how did he get so lucky 'dating you and being able to bake together with you.

Would also playfully smear the flour or the frost on your nose just to see you wrinkle your nose and pout at him for doing that cheeky trick at you, he couldn't help it when there is a chance.

There's a chance that he made tiny mistakes together with you but it won't be as horrible as it sounds even though he did read the recipe from the book as you gave him some instruction.

It could be like filling the pan a little bit too much or just a little so the cake ended up a bit too big or too small. There would be some mistakes here and there but it's not a major problem, just a minor one that can be fixed.

The cake ended up 7/10 when baking with you. I'm sorry hun, he's not really a chef or baker but at least he knows the basics and he can help you around.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

Pouring the batter inside of the pan, Akaashi squinted his eyes as he was trying to look at the line borders but because he forgot to wear the glasses, he couldn't see the lines perfectly. Seeing him keep pouting the mixture, your footsteps got closer and your hands immediately stopped his action to continue pouting.

"Babe, you poured the batter a bit too much," you point it out.

"Oh, I did? I'm sorry then, (Y/N)." he apologizes.

"It's alright, it won't overflow. It's just going to be a bit puffier if I had to be honest," you told him as you carefully put the pans inside the oven after Akaashi preheat it ten minutes ago.

Sighing, Akaashi couldn't help but smile as he walked upon you, wrapping his arm around you and kissing the top of your head, "Thank you, (Y/N)-san for helping me," he pulls away carefully. The kiss was very unexpected, thus it causes you to get a bit flustered by Akaashi's soft affection.

"Y-your welcome," you said, looking down to hide your red face.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

❀

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hinatastinygiant · 1 year

Text

Chapter Forty

Feniseca Tarquinius Eruca

Pairing: Haikyuu!! x Fem!Reader

previous | next | 2099

OSAMU'S P.O.V.

Way before I met Y/N, when the world was normal, I was a volunteer firefighter like I told her. Though I'm sure nobody ever believed me when I said that, there's not much more that I can do than tell you my side of my life story.

Growing up, my brother was always my biggest rival. Though we'd fight, we'd quickly get over it and move on. We pushed each other to be the best we could be. And that is, well, until I no longer heard from him.

It was almost like he didn't want me to know anything about his life. Maybe it had to do with the reason why he went to jail, I'm not really sure. But it was like a switch was flipped. I went from seeing him almost every day to never hearing from him again. But I did what I thought was right, and let him be. Messages that were left on read were deleted and conversations were removed. I figured he wanted nothing to do with me, so I left it at that.

I still continued my life. I went to work every day like it was normal, but over time I became so tired of doing the same thing over and over. I began to feel as though a piece of me was missing. But I kept on going because putting out fires was the only way I could keep myself from going crazy.

"Yo," one of my coworkers whistles at me as he waves a hand in front of me. I had hardly forgotten I was eating my lunch in the breakroom. "What's up with you lately, man? It's like you're some kind of ghost."

"I'm sorry," I shake my head as I pack up my half-eaten sandwich. "I just got lost in my thoughts."

"Yeah, you do that a lot. Hey, what're you doin' after this? Wanna go out a grab a drink?"

"I don't know," I respond with a straight face as I shake my head.

"Well, what else are you gonna do? Work out for the hundredth time this week?" he laughs.

"That was the plan," I shrug as I place my sandwich into my lunch bag.

"Aw, come on. Let's go hang out tonight. Drink's on me." When my coworker grins like an idiot, I look up at him and see my brother staring back at me in his reflection. The two of them have a lot in common. Perhaps that's why I always sit down beside him even though he annoys the shit out of me a lot of times.

"Fine, fine. I'll go with you," I smile softly.

"Yes!" he shouts happily. "Thanks man, you won't- "

"As long as you buy me two," I interrupt before he gets too excited, holding up two fingers toward him. "Two drinks."

He laughs loudly at my comment before wrapping his arm around me and pulling me into his side. "You drive a hard bargain, Miya, but you've got yourself a deal."

Later that night, I go out with my coworker, Takumi, for drinks. He did end up buying me those two drinks that he offered, however, he got to choose what they were. And now that I'm two seriously strong drinks in, the two of us are laughing as though we've known each other our whole lives.

"So," Takumi hums as he holds up his third vodka drink, "you've been depressed for the past five months. I know that's when your brother stopped messaging you. I wasn't going to say anything at work but now that we're here it's time we talk about it."

"Listen, Ts- Takumi," I correct myself. "I'm not depressed. I just feel unmotivated sometimes."

"Well then get motivated," he replies with a stupid grin. "Your brother will come around when he's ready. You know that, right?"

"I don't know. I never know what he's thinking anymore."

"That's only 'cause you haven't talked to him. What you gotta do is let it go. There's nothing you can do about the past. If he contacts you, then that's great, but you can't stay in this funk for the rest of your life. You've gotta work on meeting new people who are good for you."

As much as I don't want to admit that he's right, it is true. Atsumu's always been the one to pull me out of situations like this and now that he's gone, I've let myself get progressively worse and worse.

After that discussion, I tried my best for the rest of the night to act like a normal person. I failed a few times at making some connections, but over time I got a bit better.

Just as I thought my life was beginning to improve, I was meeting new people and making good friends like Takumi encouraged me to, the outage happened. All I wanted was a new, honest like of happiness without being dependent on anyone else, but once it all happened, my first thought was to find my best friend- my brother.

It might have been overdramatic, my whole guns blazing thing when I met Y/N, but I had just fallen back into that pit of dependency.

Now that he's gone, I don't know what the hell my life is going to look like. Takumi might tell me that I've finally got the closure I was always searching for, but I don't even know what that means. Atsumu's gone. What kind of closure is that?

I'll never forget how overjoyed I was when I heard his voice over the radio for the first time. I knew it was Atsumu in an instant even though it had been so long since I had seen him.

Even though I knew my brother wasn't quite as excited to see me, it was strange how he behaved that night. It was almost like there was a reason he didn't want to be part of the group, and not for the reason I thought.

It was odd, I still remember him calling our group 'cursed'.

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cafedanslanuit · 3 years

Text

- ̗̀ i heard from a friend of a friend that dick was a ten out of ten ̖́-

day ten strangers ft. miya osamu [haikyuu!!]

☄ tags/warnings: +18, afab + she/her reader, stranger sex, protected sex, semi-public, begging, pet names, fingering (f receiving), big dick osamu ofc, against the wall, riding, mentions of cheating and alcohol, p with plot

☄ words: 2.9k

☄ a/n: am i... an osamu fucker? apparently!

☄ masterlist

“Wait, I know that guy.”

You turned your head, not really interested in who your friend was talking about— until you saw him. Broad shoulders in a white t-shirt were the first thing you noticed about the man your friend was talking about. A baseball cap on his head and worn-out jeans didn’t really get anyone’s attention. To be fair, you hadn’t even noticed him before your friend discreetly pointed at him.

“He’s my roommate’s boyfriend— well, ex-boyfriend,” your friend snorted. “After the shit she pulled this morning…”

“What happened?” you asked.

“I found her crying after my morning class. Our dorm was a mess and she was walking in circles, sobbing because he wouldn’t take her calls. Apparently, he came over and found her in bed with another guy,” she grimaced. “Tried to comfort her and shit, but she really lost a good one. I mean, he’s really, really cute. And once she told me he had a big d—”

Loud laughter erupted from your table as one of your other friends smacked her on the shoulders.

“Hey, that’s what she said, not me! I only met the guy a few times when he came over. He was very kind and— you know what? Fuck her, why is he the one alone at a bar right now? No, that changes now.”

You watched your friend as she stood up and walked to the man. They exchanged a few words and your friend pointed at the table you and the rest of your group were at. He initially shook his head but the moment your friend stood up, you knew he was done for— your friend was known for being relentless.

Just as you thought, a few moments later the guy was walking towards your group following your friend. He pulled a chair from another table and sat beside you, a strained but gentle smile on his face as everyone greeted him.

“Girls, this is my friend, Osamu. He has this really cool restaurant downtown. I think it was, uh… Onigiri Miya? Is that right?” she asked as she turned her head and looked at Osamu for confirmation, to which he nodded.

“Oh, I know that place!” you said. “I was there a couple of weeks ago. The vibes were really good and the food was too.”

Your words made Osamu’s grin relax.

“Well, thanks,” he said, his brown eyes setting on yours. “Always nice to hear good comments about your job.”

“I mean it. I even got some dumplings to go and finished the whole box in one night,” you chuckled.

Embarrassment hit you right after the words left your mouth. However, before you could say anything more, Osamu let out a loud laugh, showing his perfect white teeth and damn— he really was handsome.

“And that’s even higher praise,” he admitted and you smiled back, feeling heat rising to your cheeks.

Osamu held your gaze for a moment and then looked back at the other girls as he eased himself into the conversation. All of them were smart enough not to bring up the topic of the cheating, and the longer he spent talking to them, you noticed his shoulders relaxing and his laughs becoming more spontaneous.

You found out he used to play volleyball in high school and that he had a twin brother that still played professionally. It made sense, you thought, as he had an athlete’s body and he seemed to be really strong if the muscles of his arms and thick thighs were any indicator. It was easy to joke with him, jokes were shot back an forth like you had been friends for a long time.

Each time you took a sip of your drink, your mannerisms started getting more flirty. Light touches on his forearm were followed by him pushing your hair away from your face as you spoke, and you weren’t quite sure if he was meeting your advances or just trying to be nice to the girls who had invited him to their table.

If you had turned your head to your friends, you would have seen them sharing knowing looks at yours and Osamu’s behaviours. However, it was pretty hard to look anywhere else when a handsome man like him was playing with your hair.

You were resting your chin on your palm, looking at Osamu as he shared this high school anecdote when you saw the smile from his face fall. Furrowing your eyebrows you looked around, trying to see what was happening, but nothing seemed to catch your attention. You turned to your friend, who had the same expression full of dread on her face.

“Shit,” she whispered, taking a sip of her drink. “Man, I swear I didn’t tell her you were here. I know she fucked up with you, I wouldn’t—”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Osamu said with a half-hearted shrug. “It’s on me for not going to some other bar.”

The pieces fell together in your head, soon realizing what was happening. Osamu looked down at his hands, a straight line on his lips as he figured out what to do next. He evaluated his options as the baseball cap shielded him from being found, even if it was for a little while.

You followed your friend’s gaze until you noticed a girl who was clearly looking for someone, her head turning in every direction as she walked idly around the bar. Even if you knew close to nothing about her, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach boil with anger at what your friend had told you. Sure, you also didn’t really know Osamu, but you did know that, if you didn’t want to be with someone anymore, it was always better to dump them rather than cheat on them.

“Hey,” you said, putting your hand over his forearm to catch his attention. Osamu turned his head to you. “Are you sure you don’t want her back? Like— really, really sure you don’t want to fix things?”

His face turned into a grimace. “Of course not, why would—”

“Just follow my lead,” you whispered. Osamu only got to furrow his eyebrows in confusion before you crashed your lips against his.

His initial shock only lasted a couple of seconds and soon you felt his big hand cradling your face as he kissed you back. His other arm went to rest on the small of your back and oh God— your head was getting cloudy at the way he was kissing you. There was something inherently passionate about the way he held you firmly yet moved his lips so gently against yours.

You laced your arms around his shoulders and Osamu took it as a sign to pull your waist closer to his body. The smell of his cologne filled your senses paired with the dissonance between the roughness of his palms and the way he held you dearly. The rest of your friends and everyone at the bar disappeared as you felt his warm tongue teasing your bottom lip. Osamu swallowed your soft gasp and then chuckled against your mouth, sending a bolt of pleasure between your thighs.

“And… she’s gone.”

Your friend’s voice made both of you pull away with a smack sound. Both Osamu and you were catching your breath, the realization of your actions falling on your heads as you started hearing the background music on the bar once again.

“Yeah, she left pretty quickly after that,” another one of your friends added and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. It felt recomforting when Osamu joined.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if she tried to come again and, if I’m honest, I don’t wanna see her again ‘til I go back to my room. How about we hit a club? I could use some dancing. Wanna join us?”

Osamu shot you a look before looking back at your friend.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

…

It shouldn’t have been surprising that barely fifteen minutes after you had arrived at the club Osamu was kissing you roughly inside a bathroom stall. His hands were on your ass, supporting your weight while your legs were around his waist. Long gone was the way your tongue teased you at the bar, it was now inside your mouth, colliding with yours with such dominance you couldn’t help but surrender.

“You’re so pretty,” he grunted as he lowered his lips to your neck. He bit down on your skin, eliciting a moan from you. His hips immediately bucked against yours and the outline of his hardening cock against your clothed cunt made your eyes roll. “Shit, you can’t do that to me, princess. Can’t sound that pretty before I even do anything to you.”

His words did nothing but increase your arousal and you were quite sure it was on purpose. You grinded on his crotch as he worked on your neck, not recalling the last time you were this needy for someone. You knew nothing about Osamu but his name, that he was nice and had a good dick, and that was if you chose to believe your friend’s words. How was it that now every part of your body screamed for him to keep touching you?

Pushing you further against the stall, Osamu moved one of his hands to your core. He cursed under his breath as he noticed how damp your panties were.

“Please,” you whimpered, making him raise his brown eyes at you. “Please, touch me.”

Osamu took one moment to appreciate your needy expression before kissing your swollen lips. He set your panties aside and circled your entrance a couple of times, gathering wetness on his fingers before pushing them inside.

“Like this, love?” he asked, and you weren’t sure if it was his fingers or the pet name that made you moan and nod your head.

“Yeah, like that,” you cried against his lips. “Just like that, fuck—”

Osamu broke the kiss, his lips ghosting over yours as he watched your every expression as he fucked you on his fingers. The hand that had gently caressed your face not even an hour ago was now knuckles-deep on your pussy. The roughness paired with the size of his hands were sent from heaven and you never wanted him to stop.

A loud cry left your lips as he curled his fingers right on your sweet spot, blurring your vision for a couple of seconds. Osamu smirked as he watched you slowly break and pressed a couple of sweet kisses on your cheek and jaw. You clutched on his shoulder harder, trying to buck against his fingers.

“Think you can take me now?” he asked against your ear and you nodded frantically.

Osamu carefully lowered you down on the floor. You watched him as he started unbuckling his belt and— how did he manage to make it look so sensual? He removed his wallet out of his back pocket and took out a condom, holding it between his teeth as he put the wallet back.

His eyes were set on your as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down along with his underwear, erect cock springing out free. That was when you realized all the compliments you had heard about it fell short. It was thick, slightly curved and with a length that made your legs clench in anticipation. Definitely the epitome of a good dick. The hair around it was short and neatly trimmed and you wondered a second what it would feel to have your nose pressed against it.

“Love?” he asked, tilting his head to the side with an amused smirk. Your eyes immediately raised to his face, realizing you had been ogling at his cock without a care.

“Yeah?” you stuttered, feeling your face burning with embarrassment.

He took a step forward and pressed you against the stall again, taking the condom wrapper from his mouth. His hands travelled under your dress and he hooked his fingers on your panties.

“Can I?”

You nodded, watching him lower your panties down your thighs. Osamu crouched as he slid them through your knees and calves, all the way to the floor until you stepped out of them, his eyes never looking away from your face. He stood up and hung them on the door lock behind you.

He ripped the condom wrapper and put it on, and you did your best not to be so evident with your stares. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure everything was fine before his hands were on you again, grabbing you from the back of your thighs and holding you up again against the door.

Osamu held you with his left hand as he used the other to rub the tip of his cock on your core. You moaned as he teased you, sliding it against your clit and then circling your entrance.

“Osamu, please,” you whispered, wanting to feel him inside as soon as possible. Watching your pleading features, he nodded as he pushed himself inside.

Your gasp was overthrown by the loud groan that left the man’s lips as he entered you. He cursed, his forehead falling on your shoulder before he pulled away almost all the way and thrusted back in. Both his hands were on your ass, squeezing you hard as he started a slow rhythm.

The burn of the stretch felt delicious, your body taking him eagerly. The low groans against your neck only riled you further, wanting to give him as much pleasure as he was giving you. You loved how he was strong enough to hold your body as he fucked you, his pace picking up rather fast. The door where he held you against made a sound with each of his hard thrusts and you were sure anyone that entered the bathroom could get a pretty good idea of what was happening inside the stall, despite the loud music muffling most of yours and his moans.

One of his thrusts was angled straight to your sweet spot, making you cry out in pleasure. You clawed your nails on his shoulder, feeling your body break around him.

“Osamu, fuck—” he raised his head to see your face and God, he looked beautiful. His pupils were dilated and his lips red and swollen, a dazy look on his eyes as he looked at you, expectantly. “I wanna— I wanna ride you, please, let me ride you.”

His lips crashed against yours, kissing you roughly as his hands squeezed your ass. He pulled your bottom lip with his teeth as he muttered words you couldn’t quite comprehend. You were quite sure you could identify “fuck” and “pretty”.

Not letting you back on the floor, Osamu held you as he put the lid of the toilet down and sat on it. Once you were straddling, you wasted no time and took his cock, guiding him to your entrance. You lifted your hips and then slowly lowered them, feeling his girth stretch you once more. It felt more intense, and once you bottomed out, out felt him even deeper than before. He must have felt the same, as he threw his head back with a groan once he was all the way inside.

You put one foot on a pipe near the toilet to give you more leverage as you started fucking yourself on his cock. Osamu’s hands went to hold your waist, supporting you as you bounced freely, your hands setting on his shoulders. Your lips were parted as you whimpered and cried, losing control by the minute and feeling you would reach your sigh any second.

“Fuck, love, I don’t gonna last much longer like this,” Osamu groaned, his hands tightening the grip on your waist. “You’re almost sucking me in— shit.”

You started moving even faster, the friction between your clit and his pelvis bringing tears to the corner of your eyes. Osamu came first, cursing as he thrusted his hips up. His orgasm face was so damn pretty and paired with the way his dick twitched inside you, you reached your high as well, a high-pitched cry as you let yourself fall on his chest. Your hips moved in a forward and backwards motion, riding out your orgasm as you milked Osamu’s pretty cock each time your walls clenched around him.

He put his arms around you, holding you as you started coming down from your high and finally stopped grinding on him. You raised your head to look at Osamu. His face was glistening with sweat, mouth slightly open as he tried to catch his breath. When your eyes met his, he chuckled, eliciting a smile from you.

“Would you think I’m bullshitting you if I said I don’t usually do this?” he asked.

You pursed your lips, looking around as you pretended to think it through.

“Not really,” you said. “But what if I told you I usually do this? That I spend all my Friday nights picking up sad and hot guys from bars?” you shot back, a teasing grin on your face.

Osamu laughed and fuck— why did you want to say something else just to hear his laugh again?

“I’d say I’m quite grateful tonight I was the chosen one,” he replied, pushing a bit of your hair away from your face. “And I’d ask you to come by the store some other time. I know the owner, I can get you some of those dumplings you like.”

“Oh, you know the owner?” you asked, raising your eyebrows with a grin. “Is he cute?”

“Well, what can I say,” he said with a shrug and a smile dancing on his lips. “I think he’d like you.”

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #osamu smut #miya osamu smut #osamu miya smut #osamu miya x reader #osamu x you #miya osamu x you #osamu miya x yo #kinktober #kinktober 2021

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