#osamu miya the man that you are

[nobrain-onlysteven]

Timeskip Osamu Miya with compression sleeves got me feeling some type of way I ain’t even gonna lie

[tahdashi]

fluff ⊹ college au

as much as he hates to admit it to himself, osamu is struggling. 

he wants to be strong — someone you could depend on, someone you could run to when life’s wearing you down, someone you could simply feel content and safe with. his thoughts were plagued with the notion that he was anything but that someone to you. 

and that’s why he does everything in his ability to bring that radiant smile — the one he finds himself daydreaming about — to the curve of your lips. 

while his friends go out to dingy frat houses, singing at the top of their lungs as they celebrate their freedom and youth, osamu picks up the night shift at the diner by his apartment. he started working there his first year, hoping to make some extra money so his mom wouldn’t have to worry about him from miles and miles away. the owner was a sweet man, roughly in his 60s, often humming an incomprehensible tune as he chopped vegetables and meat. truthfully, osamu didn’t mind working extra shifts while his friends went out (they’d call him boring and a workaholic, but he didn’t care). in fact, he was happy to make extra money if it meant that he could take you out to a fancy dinner (a local ramen restaurant), buy you dessert afterward (a quick stop to the convenience store with a smile on his face as he watches the light from the freezer section reflect in your eyes), and surprise you with flowers to end the night (hand-picked from the field a couple miles off campus). 

perhaps he should be living like the rest — either catching up on assignments in the library or coming back home stumbling and slurring his words. perhaps he should start saving his money like you always tell him to, but he’s only twenty and feels no reason to. 

he’d much rather be here, at the silver counter at the back of the diner kitchen, experimenting with different sauces while the man next to him hums the same usual love song. this time, the aura’s a bit different. the man has a smile on his face, he’s chopping the green onion at a slow beat as if there’s a metronome playing in his head. 

“son, ya like cookin’, don’t ya?” 

“i do, sir,” osamu continues to add garlic to the simmering sauce in his pan, a sugary sheen glazing over it. 

“why not cook at home? bring that special someone ya keep thinkin’ about,” he jerks his elbow towards osamu’s arm. 

“i like working here. i like the people, and the food, and the sounds.” 

osamu also likes how you visit him every friday when your classes end. without a doubt, rain or shine, you’ll glide into the diner with a soft smile on your lips. he likes how you walk over to the counter and ask him if there’s a ‘samu around. he also likes how you look behind him, checking on the man who’s too busy tapping his wooden spoon against the pot to notice, before placing a gentle kiss to his lips. and in that moment, he lets himself close his eyes, relax a little, melt into it like softened butter. 

and when you pull away, you see the sleepiness in his eyes. you always wonder how he goes to class, comes to work, goes to the library to work on assignments, and then rushes back to the diner after he eats so he can work another shift. bringing your hand up to cradle his cheek, you ask if he’s okay. he leans into the warmth of your skin for a second before giving you a quick nod. 

“i’m almost done with my shift. wanna go out for somethin’ in a bit?” 

“we don’t have to eat out today,” you tell him, tugging on his sleeve like you always do when you insist on staying in. 

“not even ice cream? ya said ya wanted to try that shit-lookin' chocolate one.” 

“if your shit looks like that i’m a bit concerned for you,” you tell him, twirling his sleeve around your fingers. his teeth peek out from his lips in a dimply smile, one that has you swooning. "no shit-lookin' ice cream today."

"then what do ya wanna do? it's friday night, ya should do something fun." you notice the way he excludes himself from his words.

"how about we just chill at my place tonight? watch a movie or something? i still have those chips you like," you insist. "and my roommates aren't home. stay as long as you want?"

oh, how 'samu loves your place — the comfort of your bed, your sheets that smell like you. he can't help but nod a bit too eagerly, catching your hand in his larger ones.

he gets back to work as quick as he can, not wanting you to leave you waiting, but truthfully, you don't mind. you watch his back flex in his black uniform as he wipes down the counter. osamu can feel your eyes on him, and suddenly he has love songs blooming in his mind, wisps of a sweet melody coursing through his veins.

you're too good for him, he thinks. you don't mind his chaste kisses when he's in a rush, or when he decides to nap on your shoulder between classes.

he throws his boss a quick wave before throwing on his jacket, shoving his arm into the sleeve as he stumbles towards the front of the diner to see you again. you look up at him with something like ardor and solace swimming in your eyes. placing a quick kiss to the top of your head, osamu slips his hand into yours.

"sorry, babe, took me longer than usual to check inventory," he apologizes, squeezing your hand a couple times as the brisk air touches your skin.

"'s all good. i like watching you work. you're all focused in there."

"gotta be or that man's gonna throw me out. how else am i gonna pay for your expensive ass drinks?"

"all that for a matcha with sweet cream cold foam," you squeeze his hand back in appreciation.

"yeah, well, don't wan' anyone else buyin' those for ya."

osamu's cute like this — nose all red from the cold, a wrinkle in his brow at the thought of someone else surprising you with your favorite drink every morning. atsumu thinks his brother has it bad for you ("down so fuckin' bad, dude," he'd say), and honestly, osamu agrees. he never thought he'd be excited to wake up at the crack of dawn to pick up your favorite coffee before your 8 am, or watch you get distracted by online shopping when you should've been doing your assignment. if love is seeing you at the end of each day, kissing your lips even when he's covered in condiments and oil, holding your backpack for you after a long day, then osamu wants it all.

because even when he should be worrying about the quiz he has tomorrow and the fact that he hasn't slept properly in the past four weeks, he starts to hum that familiar love song when you unlock the door to your apartment (it's become familiar to you, too, because that tune escapes his lips whenever you're by his side).

reblogs n interactions are appreciated!

[starrysamu]

inevitably.

osamu x reader

words are a little difficult for this set of roommates.

warnings: alcohol mention

“where … are you going?” 

the streetlight flickers through the window. you should close the blinds.

“out,” you say quietly, tugging at your skirt.

osamu pauses. “where?” 

you shrug, rolling your lips under your teeth. “downtown,” you mumble, then blurt - “i’m meeting kiyoko and yachi.” 

the tv hums. when harry met sally.

he nods, averting his eyes to the book in his lap. his rimmed glasses slide down the bridge of his nose. “you need me to drive you?” 

your stomach dips when he looks away. 

“no.” goosebumps line your skin. you shift on the balls of your feet. “i called an uber.” 

“okay,” he says and you watch his chest fall. “will you text me when you get there? and call me if you need a ride back?” 

why?

“i’ll be fine,” you say too quickly, too dismissively. “don’t stay up or anything.” you swallow hard, words thick and heavy from your tongue. 

when he says okay, a sliver of your hopes he doesn’t mean it. 

you turn to grab your keys off the counter and slide them into your bag. “night,” you call over your shoulder. 

when the door shuts, you lean against it for a moment - you tell yourself it’s because you’re still waiting for your uber, but you press a heavy hand against your chest and hope your heart rate comes back down.

“i thought you weren’t coming tonight,” yachi yells over the music. 

“things are weird at home,” you yell back. you don’t need to clarify that ‘things’ mean you and osamu have been weird at home. 

kiyoko bumps her shoulder with yours. “wait, catch me up.” 

“i don’t know,” you sigh defeatedly, head hanging. it’s true - you really didn’t know what was going on. maybe you need another drink before you can pull up the play-by-play in your mind. 

yachi beats you to it. “they finally kissed.” 

her voice carries louder than you had expected and you know it’s just because the music is too loud but it sure feels like she’s airing your dirty laundry to everyone and their mom at this club. 

kiyoko’s mouth hangs. “wait, why didn’t you tell me?” she yells back.

“we kissed the other night when he came home from his trip but we haven’t talked about it since.” 

your face burns at the admission, partly because you feel embarrassed to say it out loud and partly because you can still feel his lips, gentle and needy against your own. 

uninvited stills flash in your mind. his low-lidded gray eyes and flushed cheeks. your palms pressing against him, his arm burning against your waist. 

you exhale for a long, long moment. 

in your entire year and a half of living with him, you’d never seen him like that before, let alone even guess that this would happen. 

“i’ve been waiting,” yachi says giddily, “i’ve always been rooting for him.”

you down the rest of your glass. had you been playing the long con? had he been playing the long con? 

“so how was it?” kiyoko leans in, only a touch quieter than yachi a few minutes ago. 

really good. 

you’d do it again in a heartbeat. 

“good,” you mumble. “i need another drink.” 

yachi holds onto your arm when you move to get up. “not so fast, you have some more explaining to do. was it everything you thought it was going to be?” 

“that’s quite a dramatic question,” you say, suppressing a smile. “that’s a huge expectation for a man.” 

“but it’s osamu. it’s your roommate.” 

“that doesn’t make him any less of a man.” 

“that’s the point!” yachi says. 

“this is getting really confusing.” you bury your head in your hands, your muscles starting to loosen.

kiyoko slides a glass towards you and you reach for it like you’ve been parched for days. 

“so what now?” kiyoko asks gently, watching as you slump back against the booth. “you said things were weird at home.” 

they’re weird because this is new territory. they’re weird because maybe you’d been hoping for this, waiting for this, but now that it’s here, you don’t know what to do or how to act or what he’s thinking. 

“i’m not sure,” you say tiredly. “i feel like he’s avoiding … it.” 

you think about him offering to drive you and pick you up. 

your mind feels fuzzy when you hear yourself say, “shots, ladies?” 

you’re not much better at saying what’s on your mind, when you really think about it. 

you don’t come back home until you know you’ve sobered up.

the lamp in the corner of the living room is still on. 

osamu hasn’t moved very much, but instead of sitting upright, he’s stretched his legs out on the couch, head resting against the armrest. his book is shut, sitting on the coffee table next to the tv remote. 

he’s almost asleep. 

his drooping eyes lift when he hears you double lock the door. 

“hi,” you whisper. 

“hi,” he mumbles sleepily. “you have fun?” 

“yeah. why are you still up?” 

“i wasn’t sleepy.” 

“sure you weren’t.” 

“i really wasn’t.” 

“you were literally asleep when i walked in.” 

“i was literally awake.” 

you hum, setting your keys bag on the countertop. his eyes watch as you walk towards him. 

your skin burns. you want to look away - you want him to look away - when you say, “do you wanna talk?” 

“what an ominous opening statement.” his voice is just a notch louder. 

when he looks up to you expectantly, you squat in front of him, shins pressing against the bottom of the couch. he props himself up on his elbow, meeting you eye to eye. 

you look at him for a moment and watch the tips of his ears fade into pink. you fold your arms over your knees and nestle your chin in the crook.  

“hi again,” you finally whisper. 

his head tilts. you’re inches away, close enough to feel his warmth through the blankets. 

“hi again,” he whispers back, the corners of his lips lifting. 

you suck on your lower lip nervously. “i think,” you start slowly, “i hope the other night wasn’t a mistake.” 

it comes out as a question more than a statement. 

his pupils grow a fraction of an inch. “did you think it was?” 

“no,” you say too quickly. “i was hoping you didn’t think so. i don’t know. i’ve just been thinking. i just, we just haven’t talked about it since - ”

he waits for you to finish that thought, but you never do. 

“i think this is the first time we’ve both been home at the same time since then, right?” he asks softly, peering at your averted eyes. 

you frown. has it? have you just been in your head about it for the past 48 hours? surely you’d seen him at some point since then - you live together. 

he sweeps a finger along your hairline, gently tucking your loose strands behind your ear. 

“so,” he says, “what’d you think about?” 

you look at him through your eyelashes. you, you want to say. instead, you choose, “this is all very new to me.” 

“i can’t say i do this quite often with a roommate either.” 

“stop,” you grumble, lips losing to a laugh. “i mean, do you wanna do it then?” 

“do what?” he teases, his smile growing by the second. 

you roll your eyes and tilt your head back in frustration. you lose your balance and feel your weight fall back until osamu reaches for your elbows. 

“you still drunk?” 

“no,” you say hotly. “i sobered up before i came home.” 

“and why’s that?” 

“no reason,” you huff. “can you just answer my question?” 

his fingers are still gripping you tightly. he pulls you forward again, but instead of balancing you, you’re teetering on the balls of your feet. 

he leans forward, hands moving from your arm to your chin. when he’s only an inch away from you, he whispers, “can i kiss you?” 

before you can even finish saying yes, you’re pulled in quickly, his lips pressing against yours hard. fireworks set off in your gut, creeping up into your chest until you feel like your heart is going to burst. 

when he pulls away to breathe, you swipe your thumbs against his lips. 

“i got lipgloss all over you,” you mutter. 

he grins. “strawberries.” he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “does that answer your question?” 

[honeekyuu]

OOPS THE LOVE$ICK UPDATE FOR TOMORROW GOT VAGUELY SPICY

[miya-rin]

here are some small osamu boyfriend headcanons

he likes to sit with his back against a radiator, there could be several places for him to sit on a sofa or chair but he was always choose the floor

he gets really into those cheesy sitcoms, absolutely loves them but denies it whenever someone (apart from you) brings them up

he really struggles with tying his shoe laces, he knows how to do it but they always end up looking really shitty and falling out

he only sleeps in boxers and socks, he needs to have socks on at all times cause feet disgust him

he has really weak nerves in his hands, he always washes up with boiling hot water cause he cant tell what the temperature actually is

hates milk chocolate, lovesss dark chocolate

^^ however, hes not a very big chocolate fan, he likes sweets more and his favourite are red vines - he argues with anyone and everyone that says twizzlers are better

his favourite holiday is valentines day because its pretty much the only day he gets to spend with just you and no one else

he always loses his airpods and makes you do the find my phones thing at least twice a day

in high school he had a very bad habit of staring, mostly at you but also anyone that was around you. you actually thought that he didnt like you at first because he would burn holes into the back of your head with the most bitchy look ever just his resting face. he also didnt speak to you which only made matters worse

he cleans when hes angry and its so funny cause he’ll just be cursing under his breath while walking around with a pretty pink little duster

his favourite crisps are cheese and onion flavoured, specifically the mccoys ones

his printer is never not being used. it was one of those purchases that you had to convince him for months to get so now he feels like it would have been a waste of money is he doesn’t constantly use it

every morning you come downstairs to see him sat down at the kitchen table with the worst bed head you could ever imagine, it suits him so much but he hates it as it “takes like an hour to tame”

all my haikyuu boyfriend headcanons!

thankyou for reading! i hope you liked it!

[flyingwargle]

watch party for japan vs. argentina men’s volleyball match tonight @ 8 pm!

osamu doodles jerseys in the corner – his brother’s #11 and his boyfriend’s #20. he stands to admire the sandwich board, startling at the voice behind him. “not #18 fer aran? that’s disrespectful of ya.”

“kita-san!” he whirls around to greet him, bowing slightly. “i know, but i have a feelin’ if i don’t put ‘tsumu’s number, he’s gonna blame me fer givin’ him bad luck.”

kita’s smile is slight, amused. “an’ suna?”

“that’s my boyfriend that yer talkin’ ‘bout.”

“yes, yes, as if i’d forget. i’m comin’ by later, so save me a seat, please. let’s talk more then.”

he watches him continue along, likely to visit the other shops on the block, and then ducks back inside his restaurant. it’ll get busy, if the tokyo olympics set any precedent, especially with how vital this match will be. after losing to germany, they’ll need to win, and then perform well against usa. only then will they qualify for the quarterfinals.

inside, the decorations have changed. the jerseys on the wall, once msby and ejp, are now their olympic counterparts. although the photos still show onigiri miya’s humble beginnings, he added a few taken with the team, including one where they’re all holding his onigiri. it pained him being unable to watch any of their games live, but he wouldn’t change it for the business it gave him.

for the rest of the day, he and his staff work to serve their customers, fulfill takeout orders, and prepare for the watch party. about half an hour until eight o’clock, he tunes into the sports channel, where subtitles of analysts discussing japan’s performance and future odds appear on screen.

there are two tvs – one on a shelf over the bar and the other in the corner of the seating area. he has a tablet set up behind the counter to watch whenever there are orders, but the livestream is still on standby. he turns the screen off as the door opens. “welcome back, kita-san. ya want the usual?”

“yes, please.” he takes the empty seat directly across from him, the same where any of their friends would sit whenever they visit. “are ya expectin’ a full house?”

“yeah, it’s usually busy. i imagine it’ll get busier once japan qualifies.” osamu takes a handful of rice and begins molding it. “they’re under a lotta pressure. ‘tsumu was almost in tears when he called.” it hurt that he couldn’t physically be there, relegated to phone calls and video calls, but if listening helped air out frustrations, he’d gladly sacrifice his sleep.

“the world is expectin’ a lot from them after they placed second in the vnl,” kita agrees. “hopefully, they’ll be able ta get it together tonight.” the two of them watched their friends and family compete mere months ago, bringing their nation to the podium, and consequently, to the top of the world. it’s natural to assume it’ll happen again, but so far, it isn’t easy as it sounds.

the clock strikes eight, and the broadcast starts with official warm-ups. atsumu and kageyama are setting to their players at the net, jumping to spike. it changes to serves, the players taking turns to warm up. osamu watches suna, who spins his ball as part of his pre-serve routine, and then tosses it for a jump floater. it isn’t as fast as atsumu’s, nor as deadly as kageyama's, but it���s earned them aces in the past. he hopes it’ll happen again.

the teams line up to sing their countries’ national anthems. a solemn silence falls over the restaurant as everyone follows along, osamu included. the camera zooms in on their faces, strict with determination and focus. suna looks into the camera when he’s in frame, and osamu whispers a voiceless prayer to him.

atsumu is the starting setter, along with ushijima, sakusa, aran, suna, and hakuba. yaku is their libero. the others stand on the sidelines. “must be goin’ fer heavy hitters to blow past argentina’s blocks,” kita comments. osamu nods in agreement.

oikawa tooru is argentina’s starting setter. the whistle blows, and the match begins.

c’mon, guys. i know ya’ll can do it.

the first set doesn’t start off well. japan falls behind in the first half, falling short to argentina’s clean sets and spikes. hakuba is rotated to the back, and suna steps on, hands in front of him. he gets a hand on the spike, and sakusa receives it. atsumu sends it down the middle, suna jumping and rotating his torso to get around the block. japan gets the point.

his customers cheer. osamu hides a small fist pump under the counter. he shares a smile with kita. the commentators are just as excited as he is. “what an unbelievable spike from middle blocker suna rintarou! he’s known for his flexibility and game sense. will this give japan the push they need to get ahead?”

and he does. japan matches and overtakes argentina. kita claps at atsumu’s clean set to ushijima, who slams it down in the opposite court. the team huddles for a cheer and then take their positions. suna is back at the net, hands in front. his eyes widen at the camera pointed at him, and he rotates his fingers to form a heart, mouthing a message. he turns away at the whistle, but that’s enough for the world to see and wonder exactly what he said.

only osamu knows those words by heart.

japan takes the first and second set, but argentina comes back for the third. however, japan takes the fourth, after switching in hinata, and they cheer in celebration. argentina looks devastated, oikawa most of all, and osamu doesn’t miss how japan’s athletic trainer, iwaizumi, pats his arm off-court. he’s sure there’ll be more gestures once the cameras are turned away.

the customers begin to call for their bills and shuffle out. osamu gathers their dishes, kita helping despite osamu's protests, and it isn’t long before they’re the wiping tables clean. they listen to the post-game interview with the players, starting with aran, the captain, and then atsumu. finally, they talk to suna.

“you did an interesting gesture in the middle of the first set. would you like to explain what it means?”

osamu turns to watch. suna has a towel around his neck, hair unruly after the match. his voice doesn’t waver when he replies, “there’s a certain someone that i know is watching, and i wanted to let him know that i appreciate his support and love him.”

“is that related to what you said to the camera? fans are dying to know what you said, by the way.”

“yes, but that’s between me and him.” suna winks, turning slightly to face the camera again. “and if he’s watching – i know he is, by the way – i want him to know that i couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

the broadcast ends. osamu smiles to himself, adding his rag with the others. he’ll lock up, head home, and text the team his congratulations. atsumu will probably call him in the middle of the night, again, to put him on video as they celebrate. osamu will lose sleep, again, but it’s worth it, seeing his brother happy, seeing his best friend glowing, and of course, his boyfriend living his best dream.

watch me, 'samu.

osamu will never take his eyes off him.

---

inspired by this fanart of suna's gesture and osamu's reaction! <3

[mellowmin]

Character Rant: Osamu Miya!

Disclaimer: this is only MY PERSONAL OPINION and my own takes on these characters, please do not interact if you don't like or agree with this 💜

suggestive (not really?), reader is referred to as 'baby' but is mostly gn

Okay, I've been in such a Samu mood lately it's crazy.

He's definitely my favorite twin, as much as I love Tsumu and his needy, clingy almost desperate way of loving; Samu just hits different and here's why

○ SAMU. IS. GREEDY. And he's not ashamed of it. When he falls in love with someone, he wants every bit of this person to be his. He becomes protective, sometimes possessive, and he makes it known that he's not happy with other people getting as close to you as HE is.

○ This boy is ALL about secret/private/exclusive stuff. He cherishes your little inside jokes and traditions (he would rather DIE than skip your weekly movie night) and the way he acts lmao. Sometimes it feels like y'all are doing something wrong with the way he sneaks around to go see you.

○ It may happen that you get it in your head that he's embarrassed to be seen hanging out with you, but upon bringing it up to him he's pretty quick to admit that he's only doing that so that Tsumu (and maybe Suna) won't get the chance to invade come along with you guys. If by that point you're not already dating him, his pout and red face make it very clear that he appreciates your company more than you could even imagine.

○ Something that I feel connects me to his character is his love for food (I probably relate to him because I'm the same way); I feel like he may not outright say what he feels but the way he acts around people and food tells a lot about his heart. Especially when it comes to sharing his food, and sharing in general.

○ So, as a twin, Samu's no stranger to sharing. He's shared with his brother for most of his life; from sleeping in the same cot as babies, to toys, rooms, snacks, clothes, etc. This is something that affects Tsumu as well, but I feel like it digs deeper with Samu, like he felt like he's never had something that truly belonged to him and only him-

○ Until he began to show interest in cooking. It was one of the best moments of his life; his mama told him that if he could make his own lunches for school, no matter what it was (as long as it was healthy), he could eat all of it without sharing with his twin. At the time, Mama Miya was only trying to kindle this new hobby, but little Samu saw it as life finally giving him a chance to keep something to himself.

○ So... that may have resulted in him developing a pretty... peculiar relationship with food. Over time, he realized that he didn't mind sharing his food with Tsumu as much as he liked seeing his dumb twin's face light up when trying his increasingly tastier recipes, and he could not ignore how full his heart felt when it was his mama or his senpais enjoying the food he made. Like that, food started to become more meaningful to Samu when it came to expressing his love.

○ On a few occasions, his fangirls would approach him with food, sometimes homemade and often storebought, but Samu almost always ended up giving them away to whatever pair of grubby hands was the closest to him at lunch (👀Tsumu👀). Especially when he started having feelings towards someone, taking those kinds of gifts (let alone give them back) felt wrong. He's nothing if not loyal.

○ That being said, as his s/o, he's your buffet lol. Take everything from him and he'll ask if you got room for dessert. This goes for food and in general, and I feel like he'd want to be with someone who's as horny greedy for him as he is for them. He also likes to feel validated in the fact that he belongs to you as much as you belong to him :')

○ So, imagine the scrunch, the absolute sneer on this man's face when some girl comes to him (when he's already dating you) and asks him to make something for her.

"Why would I do that? Who are you"

pfft yeah, no one is trying that again any time soon

○ When he's really whipped, you know you can trust him because you see the disgust on his face when he has to interact with someone who might have a thing for him. His friends tell you that he's whipped, you can see it, everyone can see it and honestly, he's not ashamed.

○ One time, he drunk texted you while he was out with friends, and before you could reply, he sent you a video.

Upon opening the video, you get a close up shot of your bf's hairy nostril before he pulls the phone away enough to film himself and his friends, all screaming nonsense like a bunch of lunatics. You giggle at their antics and pity the poor girl under Tsumu's arm; who is currently getting her left ear melted off by the blonde's yelling (also, knowing him, he probably stinks of beer)

○ However, you don't pity the random (quite gorgeous) girl who shoves herself into frame; wrapping her arms around Samu's waist while saying hi to the camera. The way that his face twists from drunk happiness to utter disgust is almost comical, he looks offended.

"Ewww who the fuck are you? Dontouchmeohmagad" Samu's words are heavily slurred but he doesn't stumble one bit as he shoves the girl away from him. "You're ugly, get away" He glares fiercely at the retreating offender.

The last bit of the video is him pouting and mumbling, presumably having forgotten the camera currently filming his chin from a rather unflattering angle

"I don't know who you are but you ain't ma baby n' I only want ma baby"

○ UGHHHH JUST SAYINGGGGGG you should put a ring on this man ASAP cuz

Osamu Miya is 100% pure husband material

[kingdaddydaichi]

Your breath hitches every time Osamu drives his cock into your squelching pussy, the lewd noises of your slurping cunt fueling his thrusts. His fists anchor him to the counter on either side of you; your wrists pressed pathetically between your titties as they drag across the stainless-steel surface.

“Fuck, yer fat pussy’s swallowin’ my whole dick, pretty girl,” he growls between clenched teeth. His pretty grey-brown eyes fluttering as they roll back in his head.

He fucks his needy cock into your greedy pussy a few more times before he pulls out and orders you onto your knees in front of him. “Open yer slutty mouth,” he commands. “Get ready to eat m’cum, sweet thing…”

You squeeze your naked tits together as he looks down at you, thick eyebrows knitted as he tugs on his angry cock. Without breaking eye contact, you stick your tongue out and begin flicking it along his dark, leaking slit. That seems to do the trick if the fact that he throws his head back is anything to go by. Wringing his swollen cockhead in his fist, Osamu’s first thread of hot cum ejects onto your waiting face.

“Fuck yeah, I’ma give you the prettiest facial. Keep that fuckin’ mouth open, babe!” His hot cum continues to streak across your face before he dips the twitching tip of his dick into your mouth. Squeezing one of his nipples between the fingers of one hand, he uses the other to wipe the last dribbles of his orgasm off onto your pliant tongue.

[kuroowo]

A gentle twirl in the night. Your loving hand in the palm of his. The moonlight’s glow blankets your very being. Heaven’s halo in the way your hair moves, the way your smile saccharine, the way your laughter chimes — Miya Osamu’s world titls, and he is more than enchanted.

He can’t wax poetry on how your presence graces those beside you with blessings. He can’t sing melodies that seem to follow your every kind gesture. He can’t capture the essence of your soul in art his hands are incapable of making. Alas, perhaps just a little regrettably, it wasn’t in his repertoire. Not that you care in the slightest, though. No, never. Not when sincerity pours from every word he speaks to you. (How could he not?). A warm, affection thorough in the way he looks at you, regards you, takes you in as if you’re the only one in his world. (You are.). Clumsy, yet sweet, reliable, in the way he stands by your side nonetheless. And why wouldn’t he? You, who has taught him the delights in the littlest things. You, who has shown him tenderness in every depress and every mundane. You, in all your glory before him, choosing him to dance in the arms of. So otherworldly. So charming. So—

“Beautiful.”

[seiwas]

every time i read a hot osamu fic my brain short circuits and all the neural connections feel like they’re rearranging and reigniting

[amarantoestrella]

Tobio Kageyama 😓

[emmyrosee]

Rintaro loves to pretend he doesn’t care.

There’s a nonchalance that carries around your man, one that comes from years of training of gaslighting the twins and making them turn against each other, or the scoldings from Kita-San that could’ve got so intense with his disappointment Rintaro could cry.

He’s gotten good at keeping a stoic emotion and making you act out. He loves to pretend he doesn’t care.

“It’s because he doesn’t,” Atsumu assures, playing with the strings of his hoodie.

You roll your eyes, “trust me, he cares. You just don’t see it.”

“And I never will. Because it doesn’t happen.”

You raise your brows in challenge, and he matches your brow raising. “Wanna bet on it?”

“Wager?”

“If I can prove to you Rintaro actually is a dork for my attention, I want a signed Kiyoomi jersey.”

He scoffs, “can’t you just ask Kiyoomi for one?”

“Komori tells me not to bother him after games.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes, “okay. And when he doesn’t show he’s a loser, I want all you can eat at Onigiri Miya and you pick up the bill.”

“….”

“What?”

“Osamu doesn’t naturally give you all you can eat?”

“No?”

“Oh…”

“Does he GIVE IT TO YOU?!”

You give him a cheesy smile and quickly move to grab your keys, his jaw slacked in betrayal, only for him to roll his eyes, “whatever. Either way, we’re going when I win. What’re the keys for?”

“You’ll see.”

You jingle your keys with a small smirk, making sure to do it loud enough for him to hear down the hall. Atsumu shakes his head in disbelief, only for his hand to cover his mouth as socked feet quickly become louder as Rintaro barrels down the hall.

A lanky frame fills the doorway, “where you goi-“

Atsumu and you let out a string of cackles, his hand smacking his knee while Rintaro scrubs his face with his free hand, the other one holding a controller for his, hopefully, paused game.

“Dawg I hate you for real,” he sighs, coming into the room to kiss your head. You smile and angle your head to kiss him for real, which he complies with happily and making Atsumu gag. His green eyes dart to glare at Atsumu, “I wish osamu was an only child.”

“Damn, bringing guns to knife fights,” the blonde snorts. “Not my fault you got caught in 4K, dickhead.”

“Not my fault you’re a single loser.” He leans down to kiss your lips, “where’re we going?”

“No where,” you hum happily. “Just wanted to make sure you were still obsessed with me.”

He beams down at you while Atsumu groans in disgust.

“Always.”

RINRINRINRINRIN

[4unnyr0se]

Could I ask for Akaashi, Osamu, Kenma, and Bokuto + them giving oral?

❥ til your teeth rot! | akaashi, osamu, kenma, bokuto

warnings: timeskip! characters, fem! reader, cunnilingus (duh), praise, degrading, overstimulation, face sitting, semi-public sex, osamu's accent, kenma is v lazy, fingering

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 1.8k

a/n: i wrote this when i was having tummy issues so i'm sorry if its awful

got a request? my ask are open!

❥ Keiji Akaashi | Slow and steady

Akaashi eats your pussy like it’s made of glass like it could break at any moment. Every flick of his tongue, every sucking motion on your clit is calculated based on your previous reaction. Did you mewl louder when he harshly sucked on your sensitive bud? He’ll apply more pressure next time, hopefully earning another one of your adorable moans. 

Just because he was calculated to give pleasure does not mean he was inexperienced or selfish. Absolutely not. He could never dream of denying you anything you so plainly desired. All you had to was flash him those beautiful, sparking eyes of yours, and you would be on your back, legs spread, and moaning like an amateur pornstar while Akaashi made you cum for the second time that day.

He never rushes you through your orgasm, he doesn’t think that being intimate with you is some kind of game. It’s a puzzle that he simply wants to solve. His tongue is achingly slow against your folds, making the most precious moments between the two of you last longer. He is savoring each bit of your sweet nectar, and he fucking loves it. 

K-Keiji!” you sobbed, your hands flying to his neat mess of dark curls, desperate for purchase. Your legs were wrapped around his shoulders, just in case he would try to flee. Akaashi fucking loved it when you trapped him between your legs, it made him feel like the two of you were the last people on earth. “Gonna cum!”

Akaashi smiled against your folds, his tongue pausing momentarily. “I know, pretty girl. Wanna fall apart on my tongue again? I love it when you do that.” he praised, diving back to make out with your core. His tongue slipped past your entrance, the tip of the wet muscle gliding in and out with ease. His soft hands squeezed the inside of your thighs, rolling the supple and soft flesh between his fingers. 

Your head was rested on the pillow beneath you, hair growing knotted and messy whilst your thighs trembled in Akaashi’s grasp. His nose rubbed against your clit so deliciously, the additional stimulation pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm washed over you as you cried in pleasure, his name leaving your lips over and over again. Akaashi purred at the sensation of your release coating his mouth and tongue, pulling away once your high had subsided.

“Amazing job, pretty girl. You did so well for me.” he praised, wiping your slick from his chin. He leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips, lingering just long enough for you to taste your own release. “See how delicious you are, darling? So unbelievably perfect for me.”

❥ Osamu Miya | No time to lose

Osamu eats your pussy like he has somewhere to be at all times like he’s in a hurry. Being the owner of a popular rice ball spot keeps him occupied most of the time (as well as dealing with his pain-in-the-ass older brother), so when he finds a free moment to be intimate with you, he makes sure he makes himself efficient. 

Even though Osamu is the more relaxed and lazy twin, he’s never lazy in the bedroom. His usually tired and ‘over this’ attitude would melt away the second you two shared a longing kiss, his body being taken over by some kind of insatiable desire. He’s driven by his motivation to make you scream his name for the shop next to him to hear. His tongue lashes at your pussy like a man starving in the middle of a desert. 

If there’s a rare lull in customers entering and exiting his onigiri shop, he’ll change the ‘open’ sign to a ‘come back later’ sign and text you to be in the back of his shop ASAP. And, of course, you’re there in less than ten minutes, your skirt flipped up and your hands supporting your weight on the steel countertop as his tongue ravishes your cunt, drinking in your slick like honey.

“Stay fuckin’ still,” Osamu groaned into your heat, slapping the inside of your thighs. “I can’t make ya cum if yer wigglin’, sweets.” that was a lie. He was a liar. He could make you cum regardless of how much you were moving, he didn’t matter to him. But if you writhed around so much that it caused some ingredients to fall onto the floor, then it became a problem. 

“S-sorry ‘Samu! Fuck!” you moaned, your hands gripping onto the steel material of the counter for dear life as his tongue hungrily, your sweet nectar coating his tongue beautifully. It was the best alcohol he could ever wish to taste. “M’close!”

“Ya better fuckin’ be. I only got five minutes before those fuckers wonder why the shop ain’t open,” his words sent vibrations through your core, your clit painfully pulsating. The rough pad of this thumb swirled around the sensitive bud, pressing against it harshly. “Be a good girl and fuckin’ cum already, yeah? Gotta open up soon, sweets.”

Osamu finally flattened his tongue in the way that drove you over the edge, still swirling your bud with his rough thumb. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned, lapping up your release eagerly. “Taste so fuckin’ good for me.”

He pulled himself out from between your thighs, wiping off his chin with the backside of his hand. Osamu stood up and pecked the top of your head, playfully slapping your soaked cunt. “Get outta here, I got customers to serve.” he also had to sanitize his countertop hard. 

❥ Kenma Kozume | Suffocate him

Kenma will only eat you out if you sit on his face. Not hover, not dangle, fucking sit on it. Despite being a CEO and a popular streamer, this man is lazy as hell. Typically, you do all the work during sex. Bouncing on his cock, sucking him off, etc. But on the rare occasion Kenma wants to eat you out, you still have to pull a heavy load. He is not getting up off his ass by any means, so you might as well cooperate with him. He’s stubborn as a fucking mule.

Kenma was a selfish lover, and he didn’t want to change that. He liked being taken care of and not putting much effort into it. He’s already so successful. Why should he do more work than he already is? That’s so exhausting. But how could he refuse when his pretty girlfriend practically paws at him to help get her off? He’s lying on the bed in a minute, gesturing to you to tear off those pretty red panties and take away his ability to breathe.

“Ride my fucking face,” Kenma groans into your core, squeezing your ass with hands as your hips buck into his mouth wildly. He loved it when you got like this, so desperate and needy for his tongue. His tongue plunged into your sobbing cunt over and over again, eliciting the cutest moans from your pretty lips.

“Fuck, Kenma!” you whimpered, your hands grasping the mahogany headboard like it was the last lifeboat on board. Your ground your clit onto his nose, mewling pathetically as his tongue lashed at your most intimate parts. Kenma savored your sweet honey, adoring how it nicely coated his tongue. Maybe he should make you fit on his face more often. 

His deep brown hair stuck to his forehead, the skin slick with sweat as the tip of his tongue traced meaningless shapes on your clit, occasionally nibbling at the sensitive bud. He knew you were close. The way your entire body was shaking was a dead fucking giveaway. That, and his name practically being screamed repeatedly, was also a good sign. “Gonna cum? Do it, princess. Make a mess on me.”

And you did, your orgasm spilling all over your boyfriend’s cute face. Your writing stopped, with Kenma slapped your ass, indicating that you should get off. You sighed and chose to straddle his lap, pecking his nose gently. “Thank you, baby, that was amazing.”

“Did you think we were finished?” Kenma groaned, resting his arms behind his head. “You got me really fucking hard, princess. How about you take care of that for me, yeah?”

❥ Kotaro Bokuto | Pure addiction

Boktuo fucking loves eating you out. Whenever you mentioned that you were horny, he would drag you into his bed and plunge his face into your thighs until he got you to coat your inner thighs with your release. He could never get enough of you and how good you tasted. How you would only crave his tongue and his fingers on your most imitate parts. 

He didn’t fucking care when or where you were horny, he was more than happy to make you scream in pleasure. Whispering to him in a cafe? He locked the bathroom and had you sitting on the sick, your dress bunched up at your hips, and your stockings ripped so your soaking cunt could be displayed just for him. Woke up at two in the morning from a wet dream? No problem, he had you riding his face while he jerked his fat cock to the sounds you made. Did you also wanna suck him off? No problem, baby! You were sixty-nining until the rooster screeched. Truly, Bokuto was addicted to eating you out. 

“Why are you covering your mouth, baby? I wanna hear your moans,” Bokuto groaned into your cunt, eagerly lapping up your slick like a man gone mad. Your trembling body was pinned against the bathroom door of your favorite restaurant, your skirt pushed upwards, and your soaked panties dangled off your ankles while Bokuto whispered pure filth into your cunt. “Don't you wanna let all those people out there know how good my tongue can make you feel?”

“Ngh, we’ll get in trouble, Kotaro!” you whispered, doing your best to keep your voice at an acceptable level while your boyfriend spelled his name with your tongue, eliciting a sharp squeak in return. “F-fuck, don’t stop!”

“Yeah? You wanna cum on my face in a public bathroom, hm? God, you’re so fucking hot. How’d I get so lucky?” he purred against your clit, swirling the tip of his tongue over the throbbing bud. “You taste so fucking good, holy shit. Way better than lunch.”

His index and ring finger bullied their way inside of you, curling at the spot that made you instantly cum all over his face. He didn’t stop sucking on your folds when your orgasm hit, his fingers still scissoring deep inside of your broken cunt. Your hand slapped over your mouth, covering out your molten cries of ecstasy.

“Good fucking girl, I’m so proud of you.” Bokuto praised, licking off his tongue as he stared at your ruined state. He pulled your panties up and your dress down, kissing your forehead tenderly. “Now, do you wanna go back home and cum again, hm?

[yamsfrecklvs]

tits, ass or thighs?

ft. kuroo, iwaizumi, oikawa, bokuto, tsukishima, atsumu, osamu

warnings: i mean... the title speaks for itself i think! implied fem reader ; also not proofread

MDNI!!!

☆ kuroo : tetsuro is a simple man. there isn't a single thing he doesn't like about you. but the man absolutely adores thighs. put on a pair of shorts or a miniskirt and he'll fall to his knees. to be fair, he's a man of taste, so not only does he love thighs, but he's also a sucker for ass. can and will smack it whenever he can, not even in a strictly sexual way, but simply because he likes having his hands on you. ass and thighs will absolutely be used as a pillow, there's no debating it. he will also not so sneakily squeeze your thigh while sitting down or grip it while he’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat. hell, he’d die between your thighs if he could, because let me remind you, this man is an EATER. (just leaving this here)

☆ iwaizumi : i mean, have you seen him? ass. he physically cannot function if he sees you in tight skirts or pants and his hand can always be found in your back pocket if you two are walking together. definitely lightly smacks your butt to celebrate or tell you that you're doing a good job (throwback to him smacking makki's ass bc he scored a point). loves loves looooves to leave marks on it - fingerprints, bites, hickeys, you name it - and he will shamelessly stare at it in public.

☆ oikawa : i think we can all agree on the fact that this man loves tits. seriously. doesn't care if they're big or small, he just loves your chest. he will absolutely use them as pillows and/or slip his hands under your shirt while you're cuddling. loves to see you walk around the house without your bra on, bonus points if you're wearing his clothes. and if there's one thing that makes his knees weak it's seeing tan lines on your chest - one look and he's over the moon. he also probably has a thing for cute lingerie, especially cute bras - or rather, he has a thing for taking said cute lingerie off of you.

☆ bokuto : don't ask him. he genuinely cannot choose, it's physically impossible for him, especially because he's got his hands all over you 99% of the time. probably has a slight preference for ass but he doesn't even realize it. you definitely have his handprints all over your ass because he cannot for the love of god control his strength but he also profusely says sorry if he ever hurts you. either way, wear anything remotely tight or revealing and he's gonna lose his mind.

☆ tsukishima : he will never ever admit it, but tits. he says he doesn’t care and claims to love every part of you equally, but you’ll definitely catch him lacking if you wear anything low cut. of course, he isn’t the type to shamelessly stare at your boobs, we’re talking about kei after all, but you know him, and you can tell his eyes linger on your chest just a little more than usual. and also, they’re the first place he reaches for when cuddling gets a little spicier. probably likes leaving marks on your tits because they’re not as visible as your neck and because he swears that ‘hickeys are stupid’. he still does it nonetheless. again, doesn’t mind if they’re big or small. he just loves them.

☆ atsumu : take a good look at him and tell me this man isn’t a certified boob lover. seriously. bonus points if you have your nips pierced. he just loves boobs. back hug? his hands are finding their way on your chest. cuddling? his face is pressed between your tits. doesn’t give a fuck about looking like an idiot while gawking at them, either. he’s just completely enamoured with them, probably loves to suck on them too. also, i feel like he has a thing for girls with tiny waists, don’t know why. he too loves to spoil you with pretty lingerie and definitely loses his mind whenever he sees a bra strap peeking out of any of your shirts.

☆ osamu : now, hear me out. osamu miya loves to cook. he also loves a woman who EATS. for this reason i’m a firm believer of osamu being a man who loves thighs. loves having his face between them, using them as a pillow, biting into them. he will go insane for thigh highs and absolutely adores when they get bigger as you sit down. there’s nothing this man appreciates more than a pair of pretty legs showing up under a short skirt. he would gladly be crushed by your thighs, but he doesn’t dismiss ass either. generally, i think he likes everything - but thighs, they’re his utter weakness. expect many, many hickeys and marks all over them. and, just like kuroo, i just have the slightest feeling that osamu is a munch - make him suffocate and he’ll die happy.

@yamsfrecklvs

[fum1ku]

HIM AS A DAD - HQ BOYS

ft. osamu miya, daichi sawamura, koushi sugawara, kiyoomi sakusa, shoyo hinata, shinsuke kita

OSAMU: your kids are absolutely being raised in the kitchen when it comes to osamu being their dad. he wants his kids to have cooking skills and the love food that he has. it’s definitely a common occurrence to come home and see him holding your kid in one hand while he’s tending to whatever he has cooking up on the stove with the other. more than that, as a dad he’s very patient and loving. he wants two kids—boy and a girl, but of course he loves them regardless.

DAICHI: this man is an absolute godsend when it comes to you and your kids. need him to help out with something? well, he’s already on it. there is no “mom job” this or “dad job” that”—you’re both in this together, all the way. even if his work schedule can be a grueling or hectic, that doesn’t stop him from being there when you need him. he’s willing to take as much time off work as you need him to do he can help you out with the kids as much as possible. he’s also a pretty big family guy—and when i say that, i mean 3 or 4 kids is a good number for him. he wants his kids to have the big family he had growing up, but he also is okay with just a kid or two if that’s what you want.

KOUSHI: he’s great with kids. he’s an elementary school teacher, so of course he has to be! but seeing him with your kid absolutely makes your heart melt. he’s the sweetest, most gentle father to his kids. even more than that,he treats his kids with a lot of respect. he doesn’t shit down their creativity or questions—he takes the time to explain the whys and hows. and regardless of him being an actual teacher, he’s just a great teacher to your kid alone because he’s so willing to talk and explain things. i see him having one or two kids.

KIYOOMI: regardless of what people may think, kiyoomi is an amazing dad. he really is. he comes home from a long day of practice to find himself on the couch with the baby propped up on his chest, sound asleep. his kids are definitely daddy’s boys or girls because you could try all night to get the fussy baby put down for bed, but as soon as kiyoomi picks ‘em up they’re fast asleep in your arms. while he’s maybe not the biggest fan of the messier parts of fatherhood, he’s still here and willing because it’s you and his kid. one kid is definitely enough for him, though—i really like the idea of him as a girl dad, or just having a daughter and her being “daddy’s little girl”.

SHOYO: i think he’d have kids while he’s on the younger side—20 to 23. i can see him in brazil, after a long day of food delivers, coming home to you and his baby and feeling like life is complete. he absolutely, no questions asked, teaches your kid to play volleyball and as they get older he plays with them regularly. he’s definitely the kind of dad to “make it happen” or just make the best out of a bad situation. he’s obviously not making a lot of money while he’s a good deliver guy in brazil, but that downer stop him from going above and beyond for his kid and making the most fun memories. i see him really only having one kid, maybe two—boy or girl, he can go either way!

SHINSUKE: he of course passes down his grandma’s tradition of diligence and hard work. he helps his kids notice the small details of life, more than the weekly floor scrubbing or house cleaning. he’s a hard worker and he wants his kids to be the same. i also see him having his kids from a young age “help” him in the rice fields. and i say “help” because how much work can the 5-year old and 7-year old actually be doing? he loves you and the kids to death and is more than willing to give you guys the world. i also can see him as a girl dad, but i think he can go either way!

© fum1ku 2024.

⁂ taglist: @chloiyoomi @eashn @mikauraurr @miffysoo @nursedflowers @en-geneisaxx

i absolutely plan to add onto this soon with more details for each of them personally!!

[noosayog]

002 get him back!

✧ wc: 4k

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

✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist

divider from @/cafekitsune

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

“Well you dated me didn’t you?!” 

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

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

–

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

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

“True. But he is an idiot.” 

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” 

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

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

“Why not?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, found a guy to take you out?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now yer turn. What was that about?”

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Samu…” 

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

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

–

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

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

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

And it goes on. 

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

–

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

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

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

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

“Dude, nice try,” you had said. 

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

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

“I’ll walk with ya.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m onto ya,” he starts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?” you mumble. 

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

“I don’t know… I just…” 

“Are ya still in love with my brother?” 

“No,” you answer honestly. 

Osamu raises his brows. 

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

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

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

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

“I wanna get him back,” you admit. 

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

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

“Huh?” 

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

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

You hear the disappointment heavy in his intonation. 

“Osamu…” 

“Am I wrong?” 

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

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

His question goes unanswered. 

– 

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

It doesn’t make you miss him any less. 

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

The realization only made you feel worse about yourself.

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

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

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

“Hey, what’cha doing here so late?” 

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

“Uh,” you stutter. 

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

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

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

“Just wait a minute, okay-” 

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

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

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

You instantly feel the panic rise in your system. 

“Atsumu,” Osamu begins in a warning tone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, ‘Samu!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You just…?” he prompts. 

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

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

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

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

“Missed you,” you whisper. 

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

“And I like you so much, Osamu.” 

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

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

He stops stroking your hair. 

“What, ya don’t like it?” 

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

He’s teasing, you realize.

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

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

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

You nod shyly. 

“I need to hear it, sweetheart.” 

“I want it.” 

“Alright. C’mere then.” 

You oblige. 

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

He’s nonchalant when he shrugs. 

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