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lale-txt · 3 days ago

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APHRODITE ; Osamu x f!reader

He looks down at you, his gaze betraying his words–greedy, lovesick–and you want to live in this moment forever.

contains: f!reader, dilf!Osamu, co-workers, age gap (reader is in her twenties, Osamu in his forties), mutual pining, pet names (all of them. he uses all of them), oral (reader giving), dirty talk, three lines of spit kink bc it wouldn't be a lale-txt work without it, praise kink, whipped Osamu (as in: down bad, adoring)

word count: 2.6k

You shouldn't have these kinds of thoughts. He’s your boss, you remind yourself.

But admittedly, it’s hard when he’s currently lying under your kitchen sink, his shirt rucked up a little, revealing a sliver of soft skin and a happy trail while he aches and groans. You sit next to his figure on the kitchen floor, never been happier over a leaking pipe in your apartment.

“Hand me the ring wrench, sweetheart,” Osamu mumbles without looking at you, only holding out a calloused hand for you. You love these hands. They’re the hands you watch for hours while working, shaping the perfect onigiri and wondering what they’d feel wrapped around your neck. Sometimes he’d place them against the small of your back when passing by you behind the counter, always lingering a little longer than he had to. Last time he drove you home (he insisted because it was pouring outside), he rested one on your thigh while steering the car with the other.

You’re pretty sure Osamu Miya wants to fuck you badly. You hope he will.

“Doll,” he says again, his voice soft. He knows how often you tend to zone out. You snap out of it and rummage around the toolbox before you, handing him the thing he asked for.

Look–you haven’t begged him to do this for you. This may be your first apartment you rented by yourself after moving to Osaka for your master program, but you were an independent one. Always have been. You built your own furniture and drilled every hole in the walls yourself. You knew for a fact how to fix a leaking pipe, you just didn’t get around to it yet because you picked up a few extra shifts at your part-time job at Onigiri Miya so you could save up for a new laptop.

But Osamu wants to help–he’s practically begging you to let him. Which is how he ended up on your kitchen floor.

You’ve been alone with him before. When you were closing the shop together and you imagined how he’d bent you over the counter to violate every food safety regulation to ever exist. When you were the last ones at the bar during last year’s anniversary party, and you thought about stuffing your panties in the pockets of his coat for him to find later. When you spent one night at his place so you could finish a deadline before midnight on his laptop because yours gave out, and you wondered what his stubble would feel against the insides of your thighs if he ate you out.

Nothing happened and you’ve been growing more frustrated lately. He’s sweet, he’s caring, he’s respectful and you get it. He’s trying to maintain a somewhat professional relationship between you two, especially given your age gap, but some days you wished he’d just let the animal in him run rampage and fuck you stupid against the nearest wall.

You know he could. You know he’s thinking about it, too.

Ten minutes later he fixed your leaking pipe, but the ache between your thighs persists. He sits up again, so close that your knees are touching in your cramped little kitchen, and gives you a smile that makes your chest tighten with barely contained lust. There’s something boyish about his smile, making it easy to imagine what kind of heartthrob he must have been in his twenties. You gotta ask him about some photos from that time.

He’s still handsome, though. More than that. With his salt-and-pepper hair and the small wrinkles around his eyes, and his big calloused hands, adorned with a few scars from handling knives in the kitchen for over three decades and counting. He’s built differently than his twin, the retired pro-athlete. You’ve met him a few times at the shop. Osamu works out but he also likes to eat, granting him the strength to throw these heavy rice bags over his shoulders as if they weighed nothing. How many times have you imagined him manhandling you like that? You can’t remember. Far too often.

Osamu wipes the sweat off his forehead and looks at you, lazy half-lidded eyes lingering on your face. He has no idea what kind of effect he has on you. Or maybe he does, but he’s not acting on it which is even more frustrating.

“Yer hungry? I could fix us a plate,” he offers. Always looking out for you. Always caring.

“Be my guest,” you reply, nodding over to your fridge. It’s currently stocked with two slices of toast, a cucumber that has seen better days, some leftovers from last week that you haven’t thrown out yet and a half-empty box of orange juice. You usually eat at uni or at work, and lately you’ve been so busy that you haven’t really gotten around to stocking up on things at home.

Osamu lets out a long sigh when he peaks inside your fridge, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing over his face.

“Sweetheart,” he mutters, his tone a touch condescending, and you laugh quietly. You know this sight pained him more than anything. He looks over his shoulder back at you, his thick brows furrowed. “What is this?”

You rise to your feet as well and take a few steps towards him, firmly shutting the fridge door again.

“None of your business,” you say with a teasing smile to which Osamu huffs. He pats down the pockets of his pants for his phone and then taps the screen a few times.

“Takeout it is then,” he sighs. This man is determined to feed you at all costs, already adding a few things to the cart. “What d’you want, doll?”

“You.”

Osamu doesn’t lift his head, but his eyes dart up to your face. Pondering if you’re serious or you’re joking. His expression doesn’t betray anything, but the small twitch of his hand and the sight of his pants tightening a little does.

“I want you, Osamu,” you say again, closing the remaining distance between you both. He’s now effectively trapped between you and the counter, and while you know he could easily shove you away–he doesn’t. You lean a little closer to him, your body pressing against his. He swallows and puts his phone aside, taking your face in both of his hands and tilting it up a little to make sure you look at him. You can tell that he’s scratching at the last bits of his self-restraint right now.

“I’m old enough to be your father and—sweetie, you have to stop smiling like that when I say this, goddamn,” he groans and looks away. You’re gonna give him a few more gray hairs, he’s sure of it. His thumbs trace absentmindedly along your jaw, fingers calloused but his touch gentle.

You tilt your head to the side, nuzzling closer into his big palm. His eyes linger on you, as if they’re silently telling you ‘behave’, but no. Of course you have to be a brat about it.

Osamu is a goner when you wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it while holding his gaze.

His chest is heaving with every breath, a muttered ‘fuck’ falling out of his mouth as he pushes his thumb in deeper, pressing down on your tongue and making you open up wide for him. For a moment he thinks about spitting in your mouth, but he’ll save this for later. His cock is throbbing in his jeans, begging for release.

Osamu has never been a patient man. For you, he tried. But right now you’re tearing him apart with your gaze alone and he lets you. He wants you to.

And now you’re lowering yourself to your knees before him, your nimble hands unbuckling his belt as if they waited a lifetime to do so, and glance up at him with these eyes of yours that make him insane if he looks back at them for too long.

“We shouldn’t,” he mutters. His voice is a little husky and his big hands wrap around yours, forcing them to pause what they were doing. He looks down at you, his gaze betraying his words–greedy, lovesick–and you want to live in this moment forever.

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, nuzzling your face against his clothed bulge and keeping your eyes pinned on him. There’s already a damp spot forming in his pants. “Do you want this?”

Osamu curses under his breath again, but he lets go of your hands and leans back against the counter, watching the smirk on your face widen now that you’re given permission to wreck him. You won’t hold back.

Hot, you think when you unzip his pants, learning that his pubic hair is also salt-and-pepper colored. Your mouth feels a little dry once you pull his pants and boxers down to his ankles, his cock springing free, pulsing and leaking, aching to be touched. It does nothing to ease the throbbing between your thighs, only worsening it, but you know he’ll take care of this for you soon, too.

You press a few open mouthed kisses to the inside of his thighs, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving it a few slow strokes. Your hand can’t even wrap around his girth fully. He twitches underneath your touch. Osamu cups one side of your face with his hand, as if he can’t go a second without some form of contact, now that you both crossed that line. His breath is labored and his hips buck a little with every little caress of yours.

“Yer killin’ me,” he sighs, his Kansai dialect becoming more prominent the more aroused he gets. His thumb traces the shape of your lips, coaxing them to open for him, now two fingers pressing in the cave of your mouth till you’re drooling. Your lipstick leaves faint marks on his skin when you trail your kisses up his abdomen. “Fuck, baby…”

You spit on his cock and Osamu gives himself a few quick strokes. He looks like he’s barely keeping it together, still trying to act well-mannered, as if you weren’t silently pleading with your eyes only for him to wreck you.

He curses again under his breath and bends over till he’s hovering over you, two fingers tipping your chin up. Your first kiss is as messy and hungry as you imagined it to be, licking, biting, sucking till you’re moaning into his mouth and clawing against his thick thighs. There’s a thin string of salvia connecting you when he pulls away again. You briefly wonder if he mentally filed this under ‘proper manners’ too–always kiss your girl adoringly before making her choke on your cock.

“C’mon now, sweet girl,” he coaxes you, gently guiding you towards his crotch with a hand tangled in your hair. “Be good for me, will ya? So fucking good for me.” His voice is low and hoarse, his cock leaking precum. Both of you know he won’t last long; he’s already on the edge of coming undone just from the sight of you on your knees in front of him.

When you take him down your throat, his head tips back and he lets out the most guttural moan. You show no mercy on him, your tongue swirling slowly around his tip before you swallow him whole. Your nose is nestled in his pubes as you glance up at him to make sure he’s watching, small tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. He collects them with his thumb and smears them mixed with some mascara across your face.

“Attagirl,” he praises you, his cock twitching in your mouth. By now he hasn’t cum yet out of sheer willpower and the desire to see you a little longer like this, as if you’re a fever dream that’s about to vanish the second he spills himself down your throat.

You run your tongue over a prominent vein and Osamu growls, his knuckles white from how tight he is gripping the counter. Maybe it’s you who is dreaming. Sucking your boss off in your tiny kitchen wasn’t on your schedule when you got up this morning, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. You wonder if he’ll fuck you against the wall next or if he’s gonna have the decency to carry you over to the bed first. Either way you don’t see yourself walking anytime soon after this night.

As you go on, Osamu’s breath is coming out in small huffs now, his nose scrunched up while he watches his cock disappear between your swollen lips. He never fully allowed himself to think about this, but now that he had you like that–fuck, he’ll never let you go. Yeah, he’s gonna keep you on your knees forever till your body remembers the shape of him. Fuck.

“Baby… ‘m so close,” Osamu growls, a low warning. He taps your jaw with his fingers again, a sign for you to let go of him. It didn’t strike him as good manners to make an entire mess out of you the first time you blow him, and he wants you to remember him as a decent man (as decent as pining after your half-your-age employee can be). However he underestimated your determination to stubbornly refuse his request, making yourself gag a bit harder on his cock. Osamu’s hips jerk forwards involuntarily and he groans, barely keeping his composure.

“Fuck,” he cusses under his breath, your hands now on his sides, steading yourself as you take him down your throat, your eyes fluttering up at him. The last bit of his carefully maintained self-restraint snaps. Osamu’s hands now find the back of your head, keeping it steady so you won’t have a chance of pulling back, then he slams his cock hard between your parted lips until you’re whimpering and coughing around his length. “Cumming, baby, ‘m cumming, so fucking tight for me, fuck–”

He spills himself inside your mouth, the most primal moan leaving his lips. He’s trembling, his hips stuttering, thick cum spurting seemingly with no end, emptying himself into you. It’s dizzying. His breath is labored once he slides his softening cock out of your mouth.

“Shit, ‘m sorry,” he mutters, reaching behind him for a paper towel and dropping to his knees, holding it out for you. He brushes a few strands of hair out of face, trying hard not to think about how much he likes this fucked out expression on you. “Just spit it out, sweetheart. ’s okay. I was a little too rough, hm?”

What Osamu doesn’t expect is you opening up wide, sticking out your tongue. Spotless.

You swallowed it all. Swallowed everything he gave you. His cock twitches back to life.

“Little minx,” he growls, cupping your chin and towering over you. He spits in your mouth and watches you swallow it, again. It’s making him feel lightheaded. He should’ve done this sooner, he thinks. Making you take everything he has to offer and more.

One of his hands wander underneath that flimsy skirt you’re wearing. He finds you dripping. A corner of his mouth twitches up in a lopsided smirk, a hint of something more sinister. His eyes darken a little. You mewl when he pushes your soaked panties aside to run a finger between your slit before bringing it to his lips, tasting you. You’re even sweeter than he imagined.

Oh, he’s gonna devour you.

“Sweetheart. Be a good girl and spread your legs.”

a/n: osamu loving demon possessed me idk. i usually don't write part twos for my oneshots but for this one i could be sweet talked into it

#hq x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #miya osamu #osamu miya x reader #haikyuu reader insert #haikyu x reader #hq reader insert #hq osamu #-`♡´- after dark

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eggyrocks · 2 days ago

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THE TRAGEDY O3: casual

Osamu lies on his back with his phone held above his face. She’s really laying it on thick.

She flops onto his bed beside him, laying flat on her stomach. She tilts her head up to look at him. "Whaddya think?" she asks. "Believable enough?"

"Yeah," Osamu replies, closing his phone screen and dropping it on top of his chest. It's so believable, he can't control the way his chest tightens, how his gut churns and lurches. He knows it's fake, but it might be the closest thing to real that he's going to get, so he lets himself indulge. "You sound annoyingly in love."

She flips around, lying on her back to match Osamu. "Well, it helps that I am. It's not really acting."

It's not acting for him, either. He meant it when he announced to the world how pretty he thinks she is. Fuck, man, is his best attempt to put how he feels about it into words. Osamu breathes in deeply through his nose. He doesn't look at her, because he doesn't trust himself to.

In a way, it's kind of a relief. He has the opportunity to say how he really feels, for once, and not face the brunt of rejection. Some of the weight off of his shoulders, none of the humiliation.

"Try not to lay it on too thick," he tells her, partially for her sake, and partially for his own. "The more you act like you love me, the weirder it'll be for you to move onto Tsumu."

"Hmm," she muses. "Okay, that's fine. We can just be casual, then."

If Osamu had his choice, it wouldn't ever be casual. She would be his, and that would be it. He doesn't know how to be casual with her. He doesn't even know how to pretend.

"Yeah," he agrees uneasily, "casual is best."

->extras!

yn and osamu spent the night watching movies and hanging out in his room; they slept in the same bed. yn thought nothing of it and osamu kept waking up with fear and excitement in his heart

osamu has his face in his hands because he's realizing he vastly overestimated the vibes between him and yn and she was 100% right

people do mostly view them as really close friends and have sibling-zoned them and he is devastated

atsumu saw osamu's tweets and yn's tweets but did not put it together that they were talking about each other that's how platonic he perceived them to be

yn and atsumu were extremely close in high school and even though they've definitely remained close friends they're not as close as they used to be

for a while atsumu was actually pretty jealous of osamu because he felt like he stole yn's friendship from him

much to think about.........

yn and suna are good friends but they don't have the closest dynamic

akaashi and yn were complaining about the fact that there wasn't enough decor in the apartment so tanaka got a framed painting from the thrift store to hang up in the living room

but he accidentally hammered a hole in the wall trying to hang it up

free my man tanaka he didn't do anything wrong

akaashi and kenma are texting each other constantly abt the fake dating plot they cannot believe it

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @solzscribblez @honeyfewr @s777athv @boooolame @manhattanstrawberry @4rmins @gigiiiiislife @meekydeeks @miiyas @ineednanami @milesmoralesluvs @phoenix-eclipses @angee444 @soulfullystarry @itsdragonius @lale-txt @kodzu-ken @thatonecroc @kuytiee @asrichin @tangerinelovr @kiyokostan @grassbutneo @crypt-0rchid @akaashislovee @jodercriis @weezerbby @cupidsblonde @torkorpse @mdmraz @rory-cakes @socoolsocoolsocool @shookykookie30 @acowboykisser @kawoala @staileykout @dambxtch

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afyrian · 2 days ago

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☆ winter lights

osamu miya x fem!reader (fluff) -> for @kentocalls for @lale-txt’s secret santa event m.list | wc: 1.1k | prompt: meet cute + lifting up the other to hang decorations

a string of lights wrap between your hand and elbow, leaving indents in the skin between your thumb and index finger. the sharp smell of dust and attic air battles with the fresh scent of your outdoor porch as you wrap the strand around a pillar. starting from the bottom, you build the warm lights up the side, using masking tape to ensure it stays in place.

carefully bringing it up as high as you can, you press your torso against the pillar, the balls of your feet pushing against a small step stool. standing upwards, you let the rest of the strand drape down to the ground, unable to successfully reach the tallest point of the archway. your hands make their way to your coat's pockets. the warm sherpa material consumes your hands and gives them a place to warm up.

your gaze scans the small porch, contemplating if the rocking chair would be any better for the job. stepping off the step stool, you push it off to the side, pulling the rocking chair under the archway. the old wooden finish feels smooth under your fingers, a certain warmth exuding from it. stepping up on it, you can feel the chair move. it sways with every twitch and movement, sending a shiver up your spine.

stepping up with your other foot, you balance the two of them in what feels like the perfect spot. grabbing ahold of the lights, you lean forward to bring them around the pillar once more. however, the chair quickly leans backwards due to your weight moving to the balls of your feet. pressing against the pillar once more, you nervously find yourself stuck like a deer in headlights.

"ya okay?" a voice comes from what you presume to be the sidewalk, your head unable to swivel with the thick pillar in the way.

"i would like to say yes, but unfortunately i'm a little stuck! is there any chance i could have some help?" you call out, fingers finally starting to feel the full effects of the winter air, the uncomfortable feeling of needles seemingly poking into your fingertips.

standing there, you listen for the heavy footsteps carrying across the grass. the wood steps creaking as he makes his way to you. as you stand there, you quickly realize that his voice sounds familiar. not in a way that you’ve talked to him, but rather that you’ve heard it in passing. a thick and buttery voice that rings in your head every time you’d hear it.

“i’m gonna push down this side of the seat, so be prepared to catch yourself against the pillar,” he calmly reports, the feeling of the chair moving quickly thereafter.

pressing your palms against the pillar, you steady your feet on the chair. stepping one foot down, your hands come off of the pillar, causing you to slip backwards. letting out a short scream, you close your eyes in preparation to fall, awaiting the moment the wood boards will smack against the back of your head.

however, only the feeling of two hands under your back and shoulders come. they’re tough against your back, strong. finally opening your eyes, you’re met with deep grey eyes staring back at you. his shadow rests over you. “probably not the best idea to stand up on a rocking chair by yourself,” he laughs, using his hands to help you stand up right, taking your other leg off of the chair and finally pressing it against the porch.

“no, but i wanted to get these lights up and i haven’t splurged for a full ladder yet…” you run a hand against the back of your neck, awkwardly keeping the other to your side.

he looks up at the lights and shrugs his shoulders. expecting him to tell you good luck, or head off to work with what appears to be his work attire. his hat fits his head seemingly perfectly, an apron around his hips with a smile on his face. although his words come quickly with a short and sweet, “i can help you.”

“you can? i mean, if you need to go to work or something, i can handle this. well, i can try to,” you look up at the top of the archway, trying to keep your eyes from meeting his again and melting.

your new mysterious friend shakes his head, resting his hands on his hips, “i don’t have to be to work in a couple hours, so, if ya need someone to hoist you up or something, i can help.”

“i mean do you think you could get on the ladder and twist the lights around the archway? i can’t reach unless you have something taller than a step stool,” you finally turn back to look at him, hands feeling clammy under his warm disposition.

he quickly shakes his head, pursing his lips in the process. “if you want these to look good, i would not recommend using me as you’re decorator,” a small smile etches on his face, “and i was walking to work, so my ladder is quite a long ways away for carrying… you could sit on my shoulders? i’ve done it with my brother a million times.”

taking in a deep breath, you wonder how you’ve gotten yourself in this predicament. a complete stranger is standing in front of you asking if you’d like to sit on his shoulders. “first, my name is l/n y/n. just so we’re not complete strangers…?”

“miya osamu, so, ms. l/n, how would you feel about getting those decorations hung?”

giving in, you nod your head, grabbing a spare strand of lights just so you don’t run out while you’re up there. standing back, he kneels down, giving you an opportunity to wrap your legs around his shoulders. feeling his broad shoulders makes your heart race as he stands upright. his hands grab ahold of your shins, thumbs pressing against your calf.

“you doing okay down there?” you question, unable to see his face under his ball cap, hands pulling the lights around the pillar once more.

osamu stands there patiently, letting you quickly weave the lights within the decorative archway. the swirls and flower designs becoming slightly tricky for you to move around. however, he stands there firm, making sure there isn’t the possible chance that you could fall. your heart practically skips a beat as you imagine all the years the two of you could be doing this together.

“never better,” he remarks, his face red from nervousness as he hopes and prays that his hat won’t reveal his true colors.

a/n: april, we haven’t talked much, but i hope you’ve enjoyed reading this <33

gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy

#art by Diesel2b on twitter #☆ fics #osamu miya x reader #haikyuu osamu #osamu miya #miya osamu #osamu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq fanfic #hq fic #hq x reader #hq fluff #osamu fluff #hq x reader secret santa 24

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ruikasas · 3 days ago

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timeskip osamu icons

#miya osamu #osamu miya #haikyuu #hq #hq!!#hq!!edit #hqedit #haikyuu!!#mine: all #mine: icons #mine: hq #i would show sendai gym a real incident if i was at that game and saw this man in front of me

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lynnaredfield3383 · 2 days ago

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Not my characters. Angst. HQ.

Sometimes, it's just too late. Too much or not enough time has passed. Sometimes, a simple jackass remark can ruin the best thing from ever happening.

These thoughts currently flooded Osamu's mind as he smiled down at you.

"Ya look as beautiful as ever," Osamu smiled.

You don't even blush, you just hold his gaze proving whatever hold he previously had on your emotions no longer existed. It broke him.

"Thanks. I hear Onigiri Miya is doing great. I'm glad you ended up where you wanted to be."

"Thanks. Means everythin' coming from ya. Ya always had my back, always supported me."

You smile and nod.

"We were besties."

Osamu winced at the past tense and wished he'd stop being so open with you. Now was not the time. 6 years ago, maybe even 4 years ago. Not now.

"Yeah. I, uh heard yer gettin' married. Anyone I know?"

"Iwaizumi. We never lost touch while he was overseas. You still with Ani?"

Osamu saw something, maybe anger flash through your eyes. It was so fast he couldn't be sure.

"Yeah, but I don't think it's gon work out."

"I'm sorry, truly. You deserve to be happy. I need to go, but it was nice seeing you."

"I'm sorry...Us endin' up like this...Like damn strangers. I never wanted that."

You hesitate before taking a step closer and then sighing as you opened your arms.

"Its okay. One last hug, c'mon."

Osamu brightened up before accepting your embrace. And damn if it didn't feel like home all over again.

"Dump him...Marry me..."

Osamu couldn't stop the words from forming, let alone slip from his lips. Your arms tightened around him for a moment.

"I can't. I really am in love with Haji."

You stepped back and the cold wrapped itself back around Osamu like a death grip.

"I just need a second chance, please," Osamu was only this desperate because it was you.

"I don't have those feelings for you anymore, Miya. I really do wish you the best," you smile and walk away.

#hq x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu angst #angst #osamu miya #miya osamu #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #hq iwaizumi

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arcanefeelings · 2 days ago

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new fics? (ta!nanami is definitely in the works, but also other inspo?)

#jujutsu kaisen #haikyuu #nanami kento #sakusa kiyoomi #geto suguru #miya osamu #choso kamo #gojo satoru

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nagipoem · 2 days ago

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took osamu all of high school to fall in love with suna took atsumu playing one match w him to fall in love with hinata

Osamu slow to love Miya

#haikyuu #miya osamu #miya atsumu #suna rintarou #hinata shouyou #hinata shoyuo

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kkumri · 3 months ago

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redraws from the olympics! 🏐🏅🤺🤸🏻‍♂️

#haikyuu!!#kagehina #hinata shouyou #miya atsumu #sakusa kiyoomi #kageyama tobio #sakuatsu #osasunakomo #suna rintarou #komori motoya #miya osamu #oikawa tooru #my art

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drawnbymabel · 3 months ago

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happy birthday!!

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu art #miyaatsumu #miya osamu

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bokutoko · 4 months ago

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osamu didn’t really have a favorite color.

it wasn’t until he saw you after school one chilly autumn day, your face lighting up with the question, “is that jacket new, ‘samu?”

he nodded—he didn’t think too much of it when he got it for his birthday, so he surely didn’t expect anyone else to notice. “a gift from ma.”

“i like it, it’s my favorite color,” you took in his full appearance, your eyes looking him up and down, “it suits ya.” a cackle escaped you at osamu’s flustered face, only growing louder with him grumbling, “shaddup.” osamu’s biggest tell was always his accent thickening, and you knew it.

as winter came, osamu found himself wearing that same jacket to and from school every day, ignoring atsumu’s relentless “whadda simp” comments, as a part of him hoped you’d one day be chilly enough to need his coat.

and when that day came, with his jacket hugging your figure as you nuzzled in his leftover body heat, osamu found it hard to breathe.

in that moment, he realized he’d found his new favorite color—yours.

a/n: sorry osamu if reader’s favorite color is pink😔 bro’s looking like pepto-bismol.

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plagalkey · 6 months ago

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late night takeout (street racing au)

#miya osamu #kageyama tobio #suna rintarou #oikawa tooru #miya atsumu #atsuoikage #sunaosa #haikyuu #mixed up the interactions to show how theyre a tightknit group and theres casual intimacy between everyone #kageyama is the youngest in the group so eveeryone indulges him including sunarin #osaoi legs..... yeah... im unwell for them..#miya twins always bickering LMAO #anyway i love them thanks for considering them!!!#also i drew their actual proper cars this time instead of randim car references LMAO #suna is sitting in his car a mitsubishi GTO black colour #oikawas car is the blue one parked behind them a honda s2000 ap2

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kitasuno · 6 months ago

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with you, i'm first | miya osamu x reader

in which miya osamu is used to coming second to his brother. but with you, he's always first.

wc: 1113 | gn!reader | fluff

Miya Osamu is used to coming second.

It starts with Atsumu, like most things do. October is cold and gray and Atsumu comes first, a small body with a large presence that fills the warm hospital room. His cries are loud and he’s a little underweight, but with him comes the sun.

Atsumu is born under a partly cloudy sky but the nurses swear he was shrouded in sunlight.

Osamu comes twelve minutes later. His parents are crying and his Ma is close to passing out. If he thinks really hard he can almost feel her warmth, Atsumu’s sobs, and a mumble of prayers that October has safely brought Atsumu and then Osamu.

He asks Grandma one day what the weather was like when he was born. She says, with confidence, it was foggy.

Atsumu doesn’t get along with his classmates. He is too loud and too rash and lacks social cues, and Osamu is angry because Stupid ‘Tsumu cares too little: and he wants everyone to know Atsumu like he knows Atsumu.

They fight and they yell and they argue until Atsumu says,

‘Samu, I don’t care about ‘em. Why do ya care so much?

And Osamu throws him across the room. The argument ends there, he says sorry, and Osamu lies awake that night thinking about his brother. Atsumu is hotheaded. And an idiot. A loud snorer, too. But he turns on his side and curls into a ball because he knows it was sunny when Atsumu was born and all of a sudden he really wants to be his brother.

Atsumu dyes his hair first: it’s a shitty box dye from the pharmacy down the street, and it looks terrible. It’s a little yellow and a little neon, and Osamu laughs until his sides hurt when Atsumu shows him.

But Atsumu is proud, and he is confident, and he goes to school with a hundred watt smile and a group of girls trailing after him.

Osamu goes to the pharmacy that night and buys a box of gray, cloudy dye. Atsumu helps him bleach his hair under their bathroom sink with the faulty tap and tells him he looks like the moon.

His Ma says that Atsu is hot and Samu is cold after the two have a particularly bad fight. Atsumu is gleeful and smug as he gloats that he was born to be hotter and warmer and better, and Osamu punches him.

He remembers his Ma sitting on the porch, an arm around his shoulders as he pouts.

“‘S not fair,” Osamu had said, his chin in his palm. “Why’d ya name Tsumu that?”

His Ma had laughed, quietly, leaning her weight into his side. And she had held his cheeks between her palms and told him with a fire in her eyes that Osamu means To Rule.

He meets you for the first time in February.

You were standing in front of him, a little sheepish, with a box of chocolates in your extended palms. He remembers feeling something heavy in his chest. Because, yeah, Atsumu was definitely going to accept your confession.

You had said, IReallyLikeYou, and Here’sSomeChocolates, and Please Accept Them.

You were shorter than him, and your hair was done nicely, and you were blushing and nervous. And you were really fucking cute. But Osamu is used to coming second, so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, Why? And then, Tsumu’s in tha next classroom ov’r.

He doesn’t remember what happened next, only Atsumu’s laugh and the slap echoing through the halls. You leave with his cheeks stinging and hot. And Atsumu had teased him the next day, behind his mountain of chocolates and confessions, because Osamu’s face was still red twelve hours later.

He sees you a lot the year after.

You’re in the same class as him and ‘Tsumu, and you smile every time you see him. You sit two rows in front of him and you’re not very good at tying your uniform. Every lunch, Osamu watches you pull out the same gray bento with a wrapped onigiri on the side. He tells you one day that he really likes onigiri. And then, Osamu watches as every lunch, you pull out the same gray bento with two wrapped onigiris on the side.

With you, it’s always Hi Osamu, first, and then, Hullo Atsumu. With you, it’s an onigiri dropped on his desk when the lunch bell rings. With you, Osamu thinks back to a conversation with his Ma on a porch.

Osamu means To Rule.

The menu is this: Tuna mayo on Mondays and Thursdays, Ume on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday is plain. You don’t ever bring onigiri for his brother.

He asks you, on a hot night in June, what your favorite type of weather is. You had your knees tucked to your chest, a sparkler in hand, and then told him cloudy. Cold. Foggy. Winter. Snow is nice, too. You say it all with no hesitation.

Osamu kisses you for the first time that night.

It’s New Years and you’re cooking Ozoni on the stove. The curtains are open, it’s snowing outside, and Osamu wakes to the smell of miso and the sound of carrots on a chopping board. He gets out of bed, padding to the kitchen with half-lidded eyes and a stifled yawn, and then he thinks his heart stops when he sees you.

Because what Miya Osamu is not used to is this: coming first and having something unequivocally his.

But you’re bent over the counter, fiddling with the oven as you read the instructions on the back of the packaged Yakimochi you bought the other day. And you’re wearing his shirt, it falls right below your thighs, your hair is still messy from using his chest as a pillow, and you look beautiful.

“Mornin’ ‘Samu, come help me with this.” You say, looking back at him with a smile, pointing to the fresh pot of rice on the counter. “You’re in charge of onigiri.”

He hugs you instead, his arms around your stomach with your back to him.

“But I like yer onigiri,” He says, his chin on your head. His eyes are watering and it must be from the steam of your boiling dashi.

“‘Samu,” You complain, giggling as he presses kisses into the crown of your head. “I made enough for ya in high school.”

It’s cold outside and snowing, and Osamu knows he’s going to make the onigiri.

He also knows that if his name means To Rule, he’s okay with coming second if it means you’re by his side.

#miya osamu #osamu #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu fluff #haikyuu x reader #osamu x you #haikyuu fic #haikyu x reader #osamu fic

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