#🫐.miya osamu | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sandwhitches · 2 months

Text

*ೃ༄ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌 (𝐯𝐚𝐫. 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

✹ 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰: drabbles of various hq characters as songs from charm by clairo

✹ 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: fluff!!

✹ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀: atsumu miya, osamu miya, rintaro suna, tooru oikawa, hajime iwaizumi & keiji akaashi

✹ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: (under 16 dni) established relationship (all except suna’s), mentions of insecurity in osamu’s, smoking & drinking in akaashi’s, oikawa and iwaizumi’s may be slightly suggestive at some points but it’s a reach

✹ 𝗮/𝗻: if you’re like wow that lineup is so random it’s because these are all my most prized boyfriends i hope you can understand thanks. also been obsessed w charm lately erghghhh listening to the entire album is a part of my daily routine now!! songs are linked to the titles if u wanna give a listen while reading :) i highly recommend listening to the album if u haven’t already!! srry for any typos i missed!

𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 ✶ 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

“and once you get in my ear, i see kismet sinking in, it’s second nature”

after all this time, you suppose that loving atsumu isn’t as complex as it seemed like it was before. you love him in the same fashion in which you breathe or blink, you’d forgotten how to function without it, it’s second nature. likewise, atsumu finds loving you to be the easiest thing in the world.

he knows you too well, it makes your heart flutter every time he does something, no matter how many times he’s done it before. every morning, you slip out of bed to find that your slippers are already waiting for you on the chilly wood of your bedroom floor, placed perfectly where your feet land when you roll out of bed. you’d almost forgotten it was sunday, and you would have had you not heard the sound of your husband in the kitchen doing a horrible job at being quiet.

you can picture it before you even see it, atsumu hunched over a skillet with sizzling bacon popping quietly to fill the early morning silence of your apartment. atsumu can never sleep in anymore, eternally used to the long hours he spends as an athlete, so he’s since taken it upon himself to try to be productive before you wake.

“mornin’” his voice is still raspy and warm, the afterthought of sleep apparent on his softened expression that he holds when looking at you. atsumu chuckles quietly under his breath when you press your face between his shoulder blades, snaking your arms around his waist. he still smells like the floral detergent of your bedsheets and the buttery sandalwood of his body wash.

“you’re burning the bacon, already.” you snicker into his shirt, earning a click of his tongue, “don’t ya’ like it crispy?” he counters playfully, using a fork to turn over one of the bubbling strips.

“yeah, i do, but,” you peak from around his back, pointing at the darkened bacon in the pan, “those are totally charred.”

atsumu scoffs teasingly, peering down at you, “they are not.” they really are about to be unsalvageable. you laugh dryly under your breath, using your hip to bump him out of the way of the stove, taking the bacon off the heat. atsumu puts up no fight, leaning on the counter to watch you grab a plate, eyes filled with a mushy lovesick glow. you should be used to this kind of unadulterated display of adoration, but it still makes your cheeks heat up like it did when you were in high school.

“i missed ya’,” he whispers softly, just loud enough for you to hear. you glance over your shoulder at him, smirking in confusion, “i didn’t go anywhere, did i?”

atsumu simply offers a content laugh, grabbing a piece of bacon from the plate, “i meant i missed ya while you were asleep.” he rolls his eyes as if it’s the most logical thing to assume in the world. you snort playfully, “weren’t you only awake for, like, 10 minutes before me?”

taking a (rather difficult) bite from the piece bacon, he nods, “exactly.”

𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 ✶ 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞

“sexy to someone is all i really want.”

osamu peered into your hotel bathroom upon smelling the scent of your perfume, a usual indication he has since learned that meant you were nearly done getting ready. an expression of confusion contorts his face into a frown at the sight of your own unhappy grimace.

“what’s wrong?” he inquires softly, watching your eyes through your reflection in the mirror. you groan in bemusement, setting the perfume bottle down, “nothing’s cooperating with me today, look,” you ruffle your hair a bit, trying to place it the way in which it usually sits on your head.

apart from your hair, you feel like you might have rushed too much on your makeup, and when you look in the mirror, maybe your dress doesn’t go as well with your shoes as you thought it did when packing.

you and osamu were in tokyo tonight, getting ready to go down for a celebratory dinner for the grand opening of the new branch of onigiri miya. while the thought of seeing all of your friends in one place was exciting, your hasty attempt to get ready in time was beginning to dampen your mood.

“what are ya talkin’ about, darlin’?” osamu knit his brows, genuinely baffled by what you could be implying as he leans against the doorframe. you blow out a short breath of frustration, gesturing at the mirror, “i feel like i look like a mess.”

osamu’s lips part in disbelief, the corners twitching in annoyance, “are ya kiddin’?” he scoffs, leaning forward to place a big hand on your arm. you turn away from your reflection, looking up at him, surprised to see such a perplexed expression upon his face.

“yer ridiculous, ya know that?” he scoffs, already pulling you out of the bathroom, “i’m serious.” you whine in frustration with yourself, begrudgingly following him towards the door. osamu lets go of the soft hold he has on your arm, turning to face you; he bends over to level with you, shaking his head, “yer the most beautiful person i have ever seen in my life, ya know that?”

you go quiet, crossing your arms as he stands back up to open the door for you. osamu glances over his shoulder, a wry grin occupying his lips now as he shakes his head once more, “i seriously can’t believe ya, sometimes.”

you knew osamu better than to think there was any actual malice hidden behind his frustration with you. leave it to him to fix the unfixable. as you walk down the hotel hallway, the way he drapes an arm around your shoulder suddenly makes you consider that he might be right. the admiration in his eyes as he looks at you makes you feel like maybe you are the most beautiful person in the world.

𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚 ✶ 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰

“when i drive, i always check over the seat, i could see you right there, waiting for me”

it was much too late for this type of situation to be launched at you so suddenly, you knew that, but you still chose to unlock the door when you saw suna through your peephole.

you could tell he was drunk, his cheeks were bright red, hair mussed and eyes lidded with exhaustion. “what are you-” you hiss under your breath as he makes his effort to push into your apartment, experiencing no resistance from you as you let him stumble in. suna turns to face you upon hearing the door click shut, a lazy grin gracing his face.

“hi,” he snickers, readjusting his unstable stance. “hey.” you return, crossing your arms, “you know it’s late, right?” the clock on your phone reads 1:30, exactly two hours past when you should have been asleep. “i knooow.” he muses, walking over to collapse on your couch.

“are you just gonna sleep here?” you scoff incredulously, watching him roll over to look at you, grinning contentedly. “nah, came here to say something.” suna rasps, patting the cushion of the couch beside his head as if he owns the place.

against your better judgement, you choose to oblige, sitting down with a sigh as he makes an effort to sit up hunched beside you. “you know i’m not an idiot, right?” he starts, an unusual mixture of honesty and playfulness in his drunken tone. you crease your brows in confusion, “what are you talking about?”

“i know,” he nods, leaning back onto the couch, “i know what we’ve been doing this whole time.” you feel your heart begin to race, he can’t possibly be hinting at that, can he?

all the playful flirting, the lingering touches and longing glances around friends. they were meant to never be discussed, a secret so forbidden that even the two who kept it mustn’t acknowledge it. the practically invisible elephant in the room. suna was about to mess it all up, and you weren’t sure if your heart beat ten times faster with fear or excitement.

“what?” your mouth has long gone dry, words unsaid all dying on your tongue before they can even flow out to defend yourself. “i’m tired of it.” suna mumbles out, closing his eyes, then cracking one open to look at you, “aren’t you?”

he doesn’t wait for your response, though there wasn’t enough room for thought in your mind to formulate one, anyways. “i used to think i could ignore it, but i never realized how much i think about it until recently,” suna swallows, then turns to face you, head lolling against the couch, “am i wrong? it’s been like this the whole time, hasn’t it?”

you frown, “what do you mean?”

“you’ve liked me this whole time, haven’t you?” suna whispers, the tenderness of vulnerability making him sound so quiet, “because all i do is think about what things would be like if we stopped pretending like nothing was happening.”

there he goes, spoiling the quiet little mutual crush you two shared. something that started small enough not to notice, but grew until it boiled over, and one of you were bound to crack. it was suna who cracked first, albeit drunk, but you knew in the hushed whisper of his confession, that he meant every word of it.

“i-…” your words are lost to you, anything you thought to say no longer exists. suna reaches up a calloused hand, sloppily brushing a piece of hair from your face, “m’ really tired of missing you when you’re not around…wan’ you ‘round…all the time.” he’s beginning to slur his words, and you realize how drunk he actually is, his breaths slowing with the tightening grips of sleep.

as suna’s eyes flutter shut, you can’t help but wish he doesn’t forget about this when morning seeps in through your living room windows and wakes him up from a long, drunken slumber.

𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐨𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 ✶ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚

“(you make me wanna) buy a new dress, (you make me wanna) slip off a new dress”

you can’t believe how different life feels when you completely give in to love. how have you gone so long without the addictive sensation of loving and being loved? with tooru around, the blandest situation becomes technicolor; the chirping of birds by your window in the morning is no longer annoying, the coffee shop seems to always make your order right, and you look prettier in the mirror than you ever have before.

tonight the moon did not bring the chill of seaside winds with her, instead, the warm kiss of a summer’s breeze drifted through the air. you and tooru had long forgotten about your walk back to the car after dinner and had ended up at the pier, salty sea air dancing through locks of hair and playing with the hem of the dress you’d bought specifically for this date.

a warm pair of hands come from behind you, fitting snug against your hips as oikawa tucks his chin into the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “have i mentioned you look beautiful tonight?” he murmurs. before, you would’ve been so embarrassed at how easily he could make you blush, but now it doesn’t matter.

“i think you’ve mentioned it a couple of times.” you hum in response, leaning into his touch. oikawa snickers, watching waves lap against each other in a foamy dance. “could i mention it again?” he returns slyly and you giggle, “i’ll allow it.”

tooru leans forward, whispering into the shell of your ear, “you look beautiful tonight.” he seems all too pleased at the way your cheeks burn red, how easily you could be flustered if you let yourself be.

“how’d i get so lucky, hm?” he adds, nosing into your cheek, following the soft touch with a peppering of kisses along the side of your face. “tooru,” you whisper, voice shaky with the aftertaste of laughter, “hm?” he purrs into your skin.

you bring up a hand to place on the other side of his face, situating your head to return a chaste kiss to his cheek, “let’s head home, yeah?”

oikawa stands up straight again, brushing his fingers over to spot you’d kissed you suddenly. while he prides himself on his ability to make you flustered, sometimes he conveniently ignores the fact that you’ve always had the exact same effect in tenfold.

“i think that’s a great idea.” he muses, slipping a hand from your waist to link fingers with your own as you walk back up the pier. in the midst of your lovesick chatter, he interrupts you, “hey, my love?”

“yeah?” you mutter lightly in response.

“i forgot what direction we parked the car in.”

𝐡𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢 ✶ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮

“i really hate to admit it, i put my pride on the line, ‘cause when i met you, i knew it, i’d thank you for your time.”

being like this was never easy for hajime, which is why he chose against this for so long. it was a tiring six-month battle of hallway encounters and awkward elevator rides before he finally admitted to himself that he was head over heels for the girl across the hallway from him.

loneliness seems so distant now, and he’s long chased it away in return for your sleeping figure beside him. iwaizumi can’t imagine what his life would be like nowadays if his pillows didn’t smell like you or his shoes didn’t fit so perfectly next to yours at the end of the day.

he can’t find it in himself to sleep tonight, and neither can you, a short moment of surprise exchanged as you roll over to find he’s already looking down at you. after a blink or two, the both of you felt grins of amusement tugging on either corners of your lips. hajime pulls you closer, wrapping his big arms around your torso, thumbing the small of your back.

“you’re my favorite, you know that?” he mumbles into your hair with a certain waggishness to his words. you huff out a short laugh, “favorite what?”

“just in general.” he returns, moving back slightly to look down at you with big eyes full of fondness, “i like you a lot more than anything else.”

giggling, you bring a hand up to cup the side of his face, feeling the setting of his jaw under your palm at the touch, “you’re not so bad yourself, either.”

hajime scoffs in amusement, rolling his eyes, “oh, thanks.”

the dark bedroom is filled with the mirth of quiet laughter, a moment that seems to last forever, a feeling that you wish to keep in your pocket and carry around. there’s nothing extraordinarily funny happening, and perhaps you’re only laughing in disbelief of the fact that this is real

living with hajime is like moving in with your best friend, there’s nothing about plain existence that’s entertaining, but with him everything is funnier than it’s ever been. you two never get enough sleep because you’re always up for hours, savoring each word, touching each other’s skin, feeding off the thrill of breathing each other’s air like the opportunity is only for one night.

hajime is glad that you made him a weak man. there’s nothing more in the world he could have ever wanted than this, and he’d be thanking you for sharing your time until the day he died.

𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐢𝐣𝐢 ✶ 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧

“simple thing, i don’t need much to like, i find.”

saturday nights were never spent like they used to be back in college. you suppose that’s a part of growing up, becoming boring. but despite how plain the pattern of your life has become since you’ve started working and settling down, you never once considered wanting anything more.

akaashi’s cramming days worth of work into one night, lips stained with red wine as he types with precision onto the clacking keyboard of his laptop. you’re on the other side of the couch, legs bent up to support your own laptop that you draft an email on. you let out a pained groan at a sudden ache that tears through your thigh, setting the laptop onto the coffee table to stretch out the tight muscle.

keiji pauses, looking up at you. his glasses were almost askew, sliding down his nose. a cigarette hung loosely from his lips, a collegiate habit that sometimes still haunts the both of you, especially on nights like these. “is your leg cramping?” he inquires, setting his laptop on the cushion beside him. you nod, kneading at the skin.

a soft breath of surprise sucks in through your lips when a pair dexterous hands replace your own, pushing between the muscles with precision. you look up to find akaashi’s focused expression, what was left of his cigarette burning out on the ashtray placed haphazardly on the couch’s arm.

sudden relief washes across your body as his index finger pushes into the right spot, a low sigh leaking from your lips. akaashi glances back up, a rare smirk making its appearance, “better?” you nod in response.

akaashi looks at his watch, then up at you, “it’s kinda late, huh?” he notes, leaning over to shut his laptop. “it was kinda late two hours ago, it’s really late now.” you return, stretching your sore back out. once again, akaashi’s hands return to your body, kneading at the tired muscles without a second thought.

a soft kiss is pressed to the tender back of your neck, it smells like red wine and cigarettes, you longed to turn around and taste his lips, but restrained yourself. “you tired?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“i just…i really need to finish this project by monday, i’m worried that-“ keiji silences you with another kiss, this time to your cheek, “you won’t get anything done if you’re tired, why don’t you work on it tomorrow?”

you think about arguing, but you ultimately know that he’s right. your shoulders relax and you let your body weight rest up against his chest, savoring the rise and fall of his ribs with every breath he takes.

tonight was simple, perhaps a bit stressful, but that was the typical night with keiji nowadays. you couldn’t ever find yourself growing restless with this, however, and moments like these made you feel like no matter how unremarkable nights like these are, you love them more than anything. you love keiji more than anything.

401 notes · View notes

saintoji · 3 years

Text

summary - osamu is convinced that you belong with him and not his brother. now it was just all about showing you that.

pairing - miya osamu x f!reader, atsmu miya x f!reader.

warnings - non-con scenario, pseudo-incest (osamu is your brother-in-law), slow burn, smut, abuse(the better twin isn’t that nice in this one), cheating (NTR), unrequited love, best friend Osamu in denial and pining, mentions of body shaming and weight insecurities, alcohol consumption, unhealthy relationship, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids),mentions blood, slight GASLIGHTING, headspace scenarios (?), an unhealthy amount of pining, size kink, nicknames (he calls you pretty thing, cockwhore and slut), attempt at recording w/o consent, open ending (I couldn’t resist, sorry<3)

word count - 7, 160.

a/n - this fic is a repost. not beta'd.

NOTE -

This fic is a part of the Haikyuu HQ Server’s Collab Fic! You can find the masterlist of the same here!

Check out other authors and their contributions to the collab as well!

The prompt given for the collab is:-

“I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now.”

You were his first.

You’re smiling at him - his brother; his asshat of a brother who’s supposedly the elder out of the duo.

He smiles right back at you, eyes creasing up gracefully to show how happy he is with you.

You were his first love.

The rings are slipped onto the couple’s fingers - an elegant diamond ring on nimble ones and a platinum band on his.

The priest permits the newlyweds to seal their marriage with a kiss. Atsumu dips you down gently, making you giggle in delight. His lips crash with your own, making the crowd gathered around you cheer in joy at the completion of the holy union.

Osamu tried to fix his tie without avail. The people are too loud, the bride looked too happy to be with someone like him and Atsumu-

He’s relishing his sweet victory.

The title of ‘Best Man’ has been wrongfully donned on him by his brother, for Miya Osamu wished nothing more than for his brother to drop dead and set you free from this sham of a marriage.

And you were supposed to be his last.

But now you are his brother’s - till death do you part.

Or so those sickening vows of yours said.

Your marriage falls apart real soon though.

Osamu is not surprised, but he had to commend Atsumu’s ability to not let his volleyball career overshadow his new bride - for the first 3 months at least.

Competition season comes by in a breeze and you are left alone to rot at home as a trophy wife - because clearly, your husband earned more than you ever did at your 9 to 5 white-collar job.

'And moreover, wouldn’t you prefer not being stressed out by your shady coworkers?’

Or so Atsumu had said to you. And look at you now, bored out of your mind - dumbly switching channels to land it on a cooking show.

You have finished the chores of the day, always do first thing in the morning - a die hard habit you had inherited from your mother. The dishes were the easiest because you only cook for one, except for that one time Osamu visited and brought you some food from his own restaurant. It was nice; the stifling silence was easier to bear with Osamu silently eating by your side.

“Come over to my shop”, he had said before leaving you alone in the cold apartment that was once your home.

Osamu was kind enough to invite you over to his establishment during the day. You didn’t hesitate to come over from time to time.

Free Boba and good food, alongside kind employees who were willing to entertain you in your need of boredom…..

What more could you ask for?

When your husband has been missing your calls and barely texting you at ungodly hours, you really cannot be greedy enough to exercise the freedom to choose, can you?

Things seemed livelier in the shop ever since you had decided to come in daily.

Some days you wear those tight blue jeans that make your butt look good with cute frilly tops. You get free Boba, courtesy to your kind brother in-law. You order sashimi on those days, Osamu had noticed. Maybe to avoid letting your stomach bloat in those little blouses of yours.

Osamu loved resting his head on your soft tummy after practice ended. You would always end up stroking his silver locks softly as you’d read out your Keats and Shelley out loud; if he caught you on a good day, he’d request you to read Murakami’s stories too.

On others, you barged in as early as 7 am. Red hoodie and grey sweatpants covered your body on windy days when you went out on a walk around the block and back. Those days you end up ordering miso soup only. Osamu wonders if Atsumu’s inability to shut up had caused your insecurities to act up again.

He remembers seeing you cry after visiting the school doctor on days allotted for physical examination. Even now he wouldn’t hesitate to break the very jaws of people who took one look at the scale and decided that you were not worthy of respect - worthy of love.

And then there were days such as today. You had dressed up in a yellow sundress with white flowers printed on it. Your hair were clean and freely moved in the air from each bob of your head. You smiled as brightly as the sun outside, just brightening up the Miya Onigiri establishment with your mere presence.

These were the days he loved the most. You looked almost like the best friend he used to have - the woman he fell in love with before you decided to confide in him about your ever-growing crush on his brother and falling for him - which eventually led to where both of you are now.

You, unhappily married.

Him, still pining.

You chatted lively with Misaki, a new employee they had hired only a week or two ago, ordering a hefty meal of their assorted sushi and their famous onigiri rice balls for brunch.

After the rush hours were over (which was around 4 pm), Osamu took it upon himself to deliver your order of Boba tea himself with a kind smile on his face.

He saw you typing away on your laptop; apparently, you had taken it upon yourself to find a job after staying cooped up in Atsumu’s empty penthouse for weeks on end - at the moment, you were just applying for jobs and taking up freelance projects to fill in the hours.

“Here’s your order”, he startled you with his quiet voice, making you jump slightly in your seat.

You whipped your head back, calming down at the sight of his gentle smile he had reserved only for you. You smile back brightly, kind and thankful, to your best friend.

Is that all he ever will be to you?, he wondered, as he watched you sip happily from your sweet beverage in hand.

“You seem happy today”, he mused, admiring the long lost sparkle return in your eyes again.

“What’s the occasion?”

He really shouldn’t have asked you that.

Turns out it was your and Atsumu’s first year wedding anniversary today. As soon as you mentioned that, you started gushing over your husband - talking about how much you miss his brother and how you couldn’t wait to see him after so long.

Osamu felt sick to his stomach.

He was gonna throw up.

He left you to your sunshine thoughts, deciding on checking on today’s inventory and accounts instead.

Maybe then he would stop thinking about you.

It was time to close up the shop.

The patrons of Miya Onigiri started leaving as soon as the first flickers of stars in the darkening sky was visible to the human eyes.

Misaki had left the shop as soon as the clock had struck 5, eager to return to her dormitories before the dark settled in. You volunteered to escort her there, already planning on leaving for home and getting ready for your anniversary date later tonight with Atsumu.

Miya Osamu may not admit it to anyone, but the sight of you leaving the shop - leaving him behind, made him bite his tongue hard enough to make it bleed.

He had to rush into the kitchen to get rid of the coppery tang of blood in his mouth.

It was almost 10 pm by the time he finished the kitchen inventory, keeping in mind the things he has to order later on in the following week.

A sudden thumping against the restaurant’s door broke his focus from the clipboard he held tightly in his hands. Deciding to drop it onto a table nearby, Osamu finally discarded the apron that had been tied around his waist. Cracking a few of his bones and stretching for a minute, he slowly stalked his way across the threshold of his shop.

In the time it took him to reach the door, the knocking outside had incessantly increased, causing Miya’s ears to ring. He flung the door open, desperate for the unpleasant noise to stop; he did not need someone to bother him just as he was about to leave-

And the open door revealed you, in a gorgeous red dress with a thigh slit, tears running down your eyes.

“Y/n, I-”, he never got a chance to finish his sentence before you engulfed him in a hug, wetting his black t-shirt with your heavy tears, sobbing into his neck.

It didn’t take him long to lock bring you inside, locking the door behind him.

You shivered on the plush sofa seat in Osamu’s office. You didn’t think it would be possible for him to create a space for himself in Onigiri Miya, given the space. But anything is possible when it comes to Miya Twins, apparently.

You snuggled into the jacket Osamu had draped over your shoulders, thankful for the warm piece of clothing protecting you from the cold nipping air. Your tears have long since dried and you’re grateful that you used waterproof makeup, or else you’d have looked akin to a circus clown.

“I brought food”, Osamu entered the office, with a tray in his hand. Settling beside you onto the sofa, he gently placed the tray in front of you.

You knew that Osamu was not too fond of Continental food, but for your sake, he had made some pasta - your favorite kind with the sauce you always preferred whenever you would dine out with the Inarizaki Volleyball Team for their victories.

However, you were confused at the sight of two empty glasses placed beside your plates. Osamu shuffled around, pulling out a bottle of Chat Noir from his liquor cabinet.

“Drinks?”, he asked, already filling the glasses up with red liquid, “I think you need that, especially if we’re gonna talk about my stupid brother screwing things up today”.

You nodded, picking up and swirling your glass around. You sighed as you took in a whiff of it.

It smelled like sweet heaven and relief.

After sipping from your glass, you began:

“Atsumu stood me up”.

Hours have passed by and if you peered outside, you could hardly see the street lights glimmering dimly outside, illuminating the concrete road for the latecomers to travel.

Your conversation with your brother-in-law had wrung dry all the tears your soul had wanted to weep over the months. He had provided you what Atsumu had failed to supply you with after you got married to him. He made you feel needed.

You felt important. You felt like you mattered.

Waltzing onto your wobbly feet, you finally asked your companion to excuse you and shakily make your way to the washroom. Quickly you relieve yourself into one of the stalls located in the women’s restrooms, you marvel at how dutifully clean this place was, despite its many patrons visiting.

In comparison to your messy husband (you were still irked at him shirking you on your anniversary), your best friend’s workplace was immaculate. It seemed as if running this place took a lot of elbow grease from Osamu, despite its many employees.

Wiping your wet hands dry, you reach inside your Chanel purse (courtesy of Atsumu canceling yet another date night three weeks ago) to take out your lip-gloss when you finally notice your silent phone buzzing with multiple ignored notifications.

All of them were from Atsumu.

Quickly unlocking them, you begin reading multiple texts sent by your husband dearest.

[sent at 18:14] Tsumu❤️: I’m sorry, sweetcheeks. Practice is running late. Don’t wait up.

[sent at 19:50] Tsumu❤️: Can you order some takeout for me from that sushi place we visited a while back?

[sent at 20:21] Tsumu❤️:Shit, sweetheart! I’m so sorry I forgot! Hang in there for a minute! I’m omw rn

[sent at 21:07] Tsumu❤️: Baby….where are you? I’m at the restaurant but I cannot find you anywhere…..

[sent at 21:11] Tsumu❤️: Haha, baby. Very funny. I get it, okay? I’m sorry I forgot. I’m sorry that I came here only when Omi-kun reminded me. Just stop hiding and come on out, please.

[sent at 21:12] Tsumu❤️: I wanna make it up to you, baby. Please let me do that at least. I owe you that much.

[sent at 21:28] Tsumu❤️: I’m going home. Call me when you grow the fuck up.

[sent at 21:48] Tsumu❤️: WHERE ARE YOU

[sent at 21:53] Tsumu❤️: Okay, Y/N. I’m begging you rn. Just please come out. I wanna see you. I miss you so much, baby. Lemme see you this once.

[sent at 22:02] Tsumu❤️: Baby, just text me. I’ve called everyone. You’re not at your family’s. Yer friends got not a clue. Please just lemme know you’re okay.

[sent at 22:34] Tsumu❤️: I hope wherever you are, you’re safe. I’m sorry for being such a shitty husband. I’ll be staying up if you decide to come by. I’ve made katsudon if you wanna eat with me. Please give me a chance to make it up to you. I love you. <3

Checking the time in your phone, you realize that the last text from him was almost an hour ago. There were at least twelve missed calls and a dozen more voice messages your frail heart did not have in it to listen to without falling apart.

So, you don’t. Instead, you read the messages again, feeling your heart break a little at it.

He made you katsudon.

He remembers what food both of you ate after a long and tedious study session at the library.

He still cared.

Fuck.

Your eyes watered at his consideration, even though you have blown him off - even when you were justified to do so. You missed him. You still loved him.

You wanted nothing more than to hold him, touch him, kiss him - to remember every beauty mark and every little scar he got as a careless child.

You wished to remember your love for him.

You wished to remember what Atsumu has been to you for so many years.

Wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, you look yourself in the mirror and it gave you a bitter reminder of how miserable you were without your husband.

How miserable his absence had made you.

Exiting the washroom, you come face to face with your brother-in-law. His eyes unreadable, not giving you a hint of how he feels at the moment.

“Geez, Osamu. You gave me a scare”, you laughed halfheartedly, lightly tapping his shoulder as an indicator for him to move aside.

He doesn’t budge.

“You were taking too long in the washroom”, he responded, almost sounding bored.

You grimaced internally at the thought. Between running the store all day and listening to you mope around about his twin, he hadn’t really caught a break for himself.

Anxious to return back home and to get out of Osamu’s hair, you began:

“Atsumu texted me. He’s really sorry about what he’s done. I’m still angry but he’s worried and I’ve kept you up for so long; I wish I could make it up to you somehow. But I am so sorry for keeping you up this way. Thank you for everything. I swear I’ll make it up to you! You can count on me for that, okay? Take care and close up quickly - you must be tired!”

Making a beeline for the front door, you try your best to steadily exit the Miya establishment when you hear him scoff behind you.

Paying no heed in your drunken haze, you failed to notice the heavy footfalls catching up to you.

You yelled in surprise, feeling your back slam into the hard wall and you glanced up to look at your best friend, who gave nothing away from how impassive he looked.

But his eyes did.

They always gave away what he felt.

And this time, you were afraid that those widened pupils of his carried an omen worthy of your fears getting the best of you.

Osamu heaved heavily, looking at your timid form shrinking in fear and anticipation. The moment you told him you were going back to his piece of shit of a brother, it seemed as if a switch in his mind turned off.

Almost as if his brain did not want to process any sane thoughts anymore.

“Pathetic”, he spat out, slamming his fists against the wall, caging you in between the hard cement wall and his wide body.

It took you a moment to process what he had said, but when you did, your eyes narrowed and you retaliated, “E

He replied, feeling the jealousy rear its ugly head for a lethal attack:

“I said that it’s pathetic how you’re dressed like a whore just to get a crumb of my attention”.

Your palm made contact with his face before you could think it through.

Osamu’s head turned to the side without his volition (When did your hands become strong enough to pack such heat?) and he felt his cheek sting as a result of your mindless assault.

He heard you gasp out in shock, touching his face to inspect the damage you had done unto him. You were asking him to tell you if his cheek hurt or if his bloodied lip stung hard (When did he start to bleed?). You kept on talking - begging and apologizing profusely for your mindless actions.

Even when you suffered from bouts of fury, you were beautiful.

It was starting to piss him off.

So he grabbed you by your face and kissed you.

There were times you wondered what it would be like - a life with Miya Osamu, that is.

He was kind, nurturing, caring - always diligent with his work and calm in the face of all adversities life threw his way.

Unless Atsumu provoked him.

Atsumu was to Osamu what kryptonite had been to Superman - a very potent weakness. And the older twin used this to his advantage whenever the opportunity presented itself.

From mundane fights over who gets the last slice of pizza to haughty taunts about who’s the better player at volleyball, the dynamics of their relationship was akin to that of a pair of passionate frenemies - hellbent about dragging the other down so that they could get ahead.

Of all things, you never thought you’d be the one thing they would fight over. But the way Osamu holds you in his arms - with a deadly grip around your body, tight enough to break your bones if he added just a smidgen of pressure onto you as he crashed his lips with yours told you another story.

You are stunned into inactivity by his brash actions and then you’re enraged. How could he? How dare he? Does he not know that you’re married - to his older brother no less?

You struggled to get out of his hold but he’s been clinging onto you like his very life depends on kissing you breathless. No matter how hard you tried, it seemed he had no plans of letting go of you.

At least not willingly.

He used his lips to nip at your own, prying your mouth open to assault you further. Thinking on your feet, you let him - opening up to him just wide enough that he ends up lost in you and lets down his guard.

And then you bit his tongue.

Osamu had to push you away, making you crash against the concrete wall of his shop. Choking on the metallic taste of his own blood flooding his mouth, he heaved heavily, coughing up a few drops of scarlet onto the pristine marble floor.

“How fucking dare you?” you spat out, your eyes blazing with disgust at his actions - and it made him feel so small, so vulnerable for some reason; he recalled the times he would get reprimanded for stealing the sweets his mother would store in the glass jars for later.

He felt embarrassment creep up on him, heating his ears till he could stay still anymore.

“I’m married to your brother, Osamu! When the fuck did you think it would be okay to kiss his bloody wife?”

Atsumu’s wife. That’s what you were.

Not his, never his.

His legs moved before you could make an escape, his clenched fist making contact with your jaw and he watched as you stumbled down to your knees, your hand finding purchase on the smooth floor below, trying their best to repel the effects of gravity dragging you down.

Whatever little air your lungs had inside you was knocked out by Osamu punching you out of the blue. Over the years, you had never expected Osamu to be the type to throw fists when angered. But maybe you were wrong.

Maybe you still had a lot more to learn about when it comes to your best friend.

Wheezing out, you cradle your bruised jaw in your arms and inch your way away from the man towering over your kneeling form. Your hands stung and your knees were red from the sudden fall. When you looked at the floor, you noticed how your crimson blood tainted the white marble floor, complimenting the few drops of blood you had squeezed out of the younger Miya by slapping him dumb.

“Fucking hell, Osamu”, you attempted to reason with him, slowly crawling away from him, but it seemed your voice had knocked him out of whatever stupor he had been submerged in, for he started to make his way towards you.

Step. Step.

“Miya”, you warned him, but the wobble in your voice from frustrated tears left unshed and the alcohol in your bloodstream gave away how scared you were of the man at the moment.

You crawl further back.

Step. Step.

He’s taking two steps at a time, giving you just enough to see what’s behind you as you wriggled your way further away, trying to put a respectable distance so that your muddled brain could formulate some coherent thoughts - anything that would aid you in your inevitable escape from the deserted restaurant.

“Stay the fuck away, Miya”, you spat out, cursing yourself for not texting your husband that you’d be on your way home.

Maybe he’d have come for you if you had.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

You were so stupid for not doing that.

Your back crashed against the wooden dinner table.

“Fuck”, you whispered, and lo and behold, Osamu was hovering over your cowering form.

Only Osamu knew how much he struggled to get you up from the floor and bend you over the table you had cornered yourself into while trying to escape him.

For one, you were intoxicated and jittery due to the copious amounts of wine glasses you had consumed as if your sanity depended on it. And given how the distance between you and Atsumu had increased with each passing day, maybe it really did.

Secondly, his assault earlier had left you on edge and whatever little movement he exhibited was met with fierce resistance from your end. This only resulted in the younger Miya to get irked beyond no belief, his hands itching to take said annoyance on everything around him, but that would only scare you further. So he attempted to refrain.

‘Attempted’ being the keyword here, for as soon as he laid his hands on you, you started to unhinge, pushing and screaming like a rabid creature. Your nails left thin red lines on his arms, angry and oozing with rivulets of his blood.

You kicked around, thrashing your way out of his embrace desperately, but luckily his large stature gave him an advantage as he easily picked you up, presenting a comical caricature akin to a parent carrying their grumpy child throwing a temper tantrum.

Apparently, you were not done with yours.

You spat in his eyes and that was when he slammed you onto the table, pinning you down on your stomach with his muscular arm.

Your stomach lurched as you made a harsh landing on the wooden table you had crashed into earlier. You knew you were doomed.

Fuck, you could feel it in your bones.

Writhing around helplessly, you strained your neck to look up at the man who was about to decide your fate. His eyes were blown dark - whether it was due to the adrenaline in his system or because manhandling you actually made him feel a sick sense of satisfaction, you’d never know.

Still, somewhere in your heart, you held onto childish hope and wished that if you pleaded, then maybe he’d stop hurting you further.

Maybe he’d stop being so scary.

“Osamu”, you choked back onto a violent sob and continued your pleas for mercy, “I-I’m sorry for hitting you. I’m so sorry for hurting you, but please stop. You’re scaring me”.

That brought him into action and your eyes lit up as he freed you for a moment, only for them to widen in horror when he leaned back onto his heels, only to pull out his belt from the loops of his jeans.

Seeing your eyes water up, he mocked, “What, you honestly didn’t think that I’d let you go, did you? Especially after you have been acting like an entitled little bitch”.

Pinning you down on the table with his arm again, Osamu caught your dainty wrists in his arms and tied them together with his leather belt, tightening them hard enough so that your wrists couldn’t budge out from its hold.

Your eyes look up at him, tears freely falling down your face and he sniped back, “Aw, poor you. You do realize that it’s your own doing, right? Don’t want you to use your claw on me anymore, do we now?”

“Why are you doing this?” you wiggled around helplessly like a worm in the wet garden soil. It was pitiful.

You yelped as you feel both of his hands land on your butt harshly, wincing as he roughly fondles them soon after. You felt pure, unadultered fear when his hands refused to leave your body, instead inching closer and closer still towards the hem of your dress.

Your legs buckled in an attempt to deter his advances, but he was much stronger than you and he re-positioned himself, so that his knees constricted your legs between them.

And you could feel his growing erection between your thighs too.

You felt like you were going to throw up. You wish he’d let you go so you could do just that.

Instead, he pulled your dress all the way up to your waist and marveled at the sight of your cunt clad in a pair of black lace panties.

“Hm, so this is what you had planned for him all along”, he mused, relishing in the way you shook your head and repeatedly said no - over and over again.

“Too bad he’d been such a neglectful fucking husband, hasn’t he?” he asked, only to get pissed off when you don’t agree.

“Guess I’ll have to show you how a man is supposed to care for his wife”.

You could feel his hands all over you, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they gently trailed over the newly exposed skin. You swear you could feel your heartbeat ringing in your ears - whether it was due to the alcohol running through your veins or the apprehension you held for the next course of actions your perpetrator had in mind, you wouldn’t know.

You gasped as you feel one of his fingers rub you through the flimsy fabric of your panties, feeling how cold his silver ring is against your warm cunny. You felt yourself shiver against your will and horror filled your mind as you feel your thighs get sticky with the slick drooling down your sensitive cunt.

How can you react this way to him? Why now? Why him?

You sent a quick prayer to the Gods above and prepared yourself for the worst.

You felt so soft under his touch. So smooth and pliant - so submissive, all for him to use and break. He felt his fingers sink into the curve of your back, and as he slid them lower, he could feel the lace rub gently against his fingertips. Mesmerized, he spanked you again and watched you flinch in response.

That made him smirk.

Slipping a hand between your thighs, he slid a finger languidly against your slit - the black lace acting as a barrier between him and your pussy. And yet, he could feel you get wet at his ministrations - no matter how much you begged and pleaded otherwise.

“Look at your cunny drool. Hm, can you feel it?” he taunted, pressing harder into the fabric and trying to locate your clit, “How your body is desperate for a cock?”

You shook your head, and that made him tick. As a result, he spanked you again and made sure to make his ring adorned fingers dig into your plump ass hard enough so that you end up gasping in pain again.

“N-no”, you replied, your voice heavy with tears and drowsiness, “I-I don’t want anything. Lemme go, Osamu. I just wanna go home”.

“Home?” he barked out, laughing at how outrageous your thoughts were.

“You call a place that has no kids, no husband - literally a place where no one cares about you, home?”, he asked, offended at the very idea of you still wanting to leave.

“But ‘Tsumu is home-”, he interrupted before you can go any further.

“Does it matter where he is? He wasn’t there when you waited at the restaurant, was he? And he won’t be there when you need him the most”, he used the very insecurities you had opened up about earlier as precious boons, forcing you to stay with him.

“But I have. I’ve been with you through it all. Let me show you that I can stay with you still”.

Finally, you gave in.

Maybe it was because you weren’t sure where Atsumu and you stood. Both of you wanted to work it out, but the question remained - would it actually work?

Who could guarantee that his work or your ambitions wouldn’t ruin it all again?

Maybe it was the wine - blurring your vision, lowering your inhibitions with every soft promise Osamu whispered in your ear as he fondled you. Maybe it was the fatigue seeping into your bones due to the frantic escape you had attempted minutes ago.

But your tense body went lax at the touch of Miya Osamu, shivering as his hand gently trailed down from the nape of your neck to the small of your back - his fingers mapping every inch of your body.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you feel his fingers slide your panties to the side. Nervously, you ask, “W-what are you doing, Osamu?”

He went down on his knees, staring at the slick cunny of yours with dead eyes - concentration etched onto his face. He looked like he hadn’t heard a word you’d said and without further ado, he licked a long strip all the way from your little clit, stopping just short from the perineum and the puckering hole of yours.

He shifted under you, repositioning himself so that he can torture your clit with his tongue some more. Your legs were shaking by how his teeth softly grazed the little button and almost slammed your head onto the table when he pushes in two of his fingers inside you.

“L-Listen, this isn’t right-”

“Shut up”, he finally looked up at you, his eyes narrowing, “Stop pretending you do not want this. Or else you won’t be so needy, pretty thing”.

And then he dived back in.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Osamu had his shoulders placed below your thighs, he was certain you’d have dropped onto the floor like a dead weight. Your knees buckled and luckily you settled onto his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his head as he assaulted your senses with unwanted pleasure.

Your whimpers of protest weren’t coherent enough, but that wasn’t enough. Osamu wanted to make you scream. He wanted you to be all his, even if it meant breaking you bit by bit - till you were left barren, with nothing to shield you from him ever again.

He added a third finger and you moaned out loud - sweet, saccharine and almost siren-like and all he could compare the euphoria he felt at hearing you lose your inhibitions was akin to tasting the honey Kita had farmed at his village for the first time.

Maybe even more so.

You opened your mouth and tried to beg, your pleas interrupted by broken moans, “P-Please-”

“L-Listen, ‘Samu. Please”.

What were you begging for, he wondered.

Did you want him to stop?

Or did you wish for him to continue to make you cum for him, like the good little whore you are?

‘Pick one, you stubborn brat’, he thought, thrusting his fingers in till you’ve swallowed up the few rings he had worn today. You squirmed at the uncomfortable stretch, wiggling your hips to find a more comfortable position.

He spanked your ass in response, and in a raspy voice, he commanded, “Stay still, woman”.

“Please”, you begged once again, and as he averted his eyes upwards, the sight of your flushed cheeks wet with tears made the sadist in him thrive.

He wanted to burn the very visage of you trembling while you experience the highs and lows between the threshold of pleasure and pain, over and over again.

Even if it was a one-time thing.

You were on your tiptoes - trying to hold off the tidal crashing of your oncoming orgasm. Yet Osamu was relentless in his pursuit, wanting nothing more than to make you cry out his name like the only mantra you were aware of.

The moment he sucked onto your clit, you screamed, “Osamu! ‘Samu, please! No more! T-Too much, it’s too much! Please!”

And just as he grazed it again with his warm tongue, you felt yourself crash in waves of overwhelming pleasure - only for it to come to an abrupt halt as Osamu let goes of your thighs, instead of getting up. The tears in your eyes slid down, due to a weird concoction of shame and arousal invading your mind.

You craned your neck back to look at him stroking his now hard cock, the tip red and angry - oozing clear droplets of pre-cum. (When did he strip? Was it when he slammed you onto the table? Or when your ears could hear nothing but static when he ruined your forceful orgasm?)

Pushing your face into the wooden table, he pressed himself flush against your hips and grinded lazily on your ass, spreading his pre-cum all over your reddened skin.

“Wait, Osamu”, your voice came out muffled, almost as if it was a distant call for mercy, “You cannot be serious, right? We cannot do this. I don’t want to-”

Spank!

His hand made contact with your pussy, his rings hitting your clit and as a result, you convulsed violently, your knees knocking together to shield your intimate parts away from his brutal hits.

But he had lodged his knee between them and it kept your legs from closing entirely.

“Why do you want me to stop, baby?” he asked, and if it wasn’t for the events that have transpired today, you’d have taken the change in his voice to be confusion.

But he wasn’t confused.

His voice held a dark promise - a promise of no mercy.

A promise of unleashing his dark side.

“Don’t you want me to feel good too?”

And with that, he slipped his cock inside you.

Miya Osamu has had his fair share of flings. Some good, some bad. Some of them were downright embarrassing; he had buried those memories into the deepest pits of his minds, never to be unearthed no matter the circumstances.

But you….

You were enchanting. Such a beautiful wreck - with tears and running mascara and hair all messed up; your ass still red with his stinging spanks and the way your tight little cunny was wrapped around his cock, coaxing him in and then some.

You were the goddess he wished to worship.

And he was the one true devotee.

He’d show you that.

Even if he has to use force to make you see how he’s much more worthy than Atsumu.

“Fuck”, he groaned out, finally bottoming inside you snugly, his hipbone rubbing against the cheeks of your ass. His hands grabbed you by your hips as he slowly pulled out of you, feeling his cock drag out of your slick walls and reveling in the way you whine and clench around him.

“Do you want more, pretty thing? Want me to fill you up? Fuck you dumb till you can no longer think about anything else?”

Your eager nod of approval was all he needed, as he pulled all the way out and slammed inside of you.

You moaned at the way Osamu took away the last shreds of your dignity by slamming you onto his cock. Your jaw still throbbed from his punch earlier and yet the moment you feel the tip of his cock caress the spongy spot inside you, whatever little hesitation you held in your mind against him was forgotten.

“Shit, I can’t, ‘Samu”, you whined, feeling him grind against your weak point over and over again.

“What are you talking about? Of course, you can”, he replied, inching his fingers closer to your clit and rubbing it in circular motions, finally letting out a soft moan as he felt you tighten around him even more.

Rutting his hips into yours and flicking your clit with the rhythm he had set up, he leaned over and marked your neck with wet kisses that slowly progressed into harsh love bites.

You could only hold onto the table as your legs wobbled and threatened to give away to the overwhelming pleasure flowing through your body.

All sensible thoughts had escaped your mind and your moral compass was no longer working. Not when the man behind you was hellbent on making you cum around his cock.

Dumbly, you moaned and squealed like a bitch in heat, begging for him to ruin you. And you knew that the younger Miya must’ve been gloating in all of his glory

“Osamu, shit. Please don’t stop! That feels so good! It hurts so good. Too big, too much. Want you. Only you”, you

Feeling his ego inflate, he goaded, “Oh yeah, you like that, huh? Come for me, then. Come all over my cock like the good little cockwhore you are”.

And for some reason, you did.

His gaze fell downward, eyes fixating on how prettily you cream around cock and painted it white. This only served as the motivation he needed to let loose and to fuck you well into a twitching, overstimulated mess.

“Look at you”, he gently tapped your ass with his palm, watching you break under him due to his slightly sadistic approach.

“You’re creaming so pretty around me. Falling apart on my cock like an adorable slut. I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now.”

Picking up the phone you had dropped earlier, he unlocked it easily (he felt his blood boil a little when your phone passcode was your wedding anniversary, of all things) and angling the camera to where both of you were joined together, he asked with amusement, “Should I send ‘Tsumu a souvenir? Should I show dearest brother how his sweet wife his coming on my cock instead? Maybe I’ll send him a little video too”.

He felt your body stiffen in shock, hips trying to break free from his strong hold and your legs kicking in retaliation. That turned him on even more.

Speeding up, he relished in the way you tried to break free and cried out to him, begging him to not tell Atsumu and how you’d be willing to do anything if he let you be. Soon enough, his thrusts turned languid, his thighs slapping against your own as he finally slowed down till he finally came, emptying himself inside of your wet cunny.

It was over. He finally got what he wanted.

And you were left to deal with the bloody aftermath of it all - the guilt, the regret….feeling like the shittiest person alive.

Granted that you were not necessarily a willing participant in all this, but you did sleep with your brother-in-law. What kind of person does that?

What kind of person does that make you?

And Atsumu……

Oh God, your husband-

Did Osamu actually take any photos? Did he send those to him? Does he know that you’re an unfaithful slut?

You resisted against the fatigue haunting your sore limbs and craned your neck back, locking eyes with him; he halted in his movements as your eyes reflected anguish, guilt, and…..regret.

Why the fuck did you look at him like that? Was he that repulsive that you couldn’t spend one night with him like this?

Your violent sobbing was what snapped him out of his critical thoughts.

Tears falling down your eyes, you lamented (certain that you were looking pathetic in his eyes), “Osamu, please don’t send your brother those photos-”

The sound of your uncontrollable wailing echoed throughout the walls of the empty restaurant. All Osamu did in response was to pick you up and take you inside his office, hoping to clean you and comfort you despite his obvious helplessness at your sudden outburst.

Tired and emotionally drained, you let him.

You couldn’t put up much of a fight even if you wanted to, you thought as you let yourself lull into the warm embrace of his arms and fall asleep.

As he sat beside your sleeping form, his face softened at the afterglow on your face, the moonlight only enhancing your calm face. Carding his fingers through your hair gently, careful to not tug onto any knots, he hummed a soft tune as he basked in your presence.

His phone buzzed and he got up, walking all the way to his office desk, picking up the device that was threatening to disrupt your sleep. Unlocking it quickly, he noticed that he had an unread message from his brother.

[sent at 1:34] Atsumu: Take care of her for me, will ye?

He smiled softly as he looked back at your sleeping form, slumped all over his leather couch.

He did take care of you in his own way, didn’t he?

176 notes · View notes