#miya osamu x you
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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.”
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kinktober 2023 -> day 31
breeding kink - miya osamu x reader
word count: 1512
A/N: so this is it! thank you so much for everyone who stuck around for this kinktober event. 31 fics in 31 days, its the biggest project i have ever done. thank u for all the love and support ❤️
kinktober masterlist
What is stopping you?
Your mind repeated the question in your head every day, and it felt like your brain was yelling at you in frustration and confusion, wanting to know why exactly you were tongue tied in this situation. It made no sense to wait anymore. The time was ideal.
Truly, there couldn't be a better time to bring it up. You were happy with your job, Osamu’s business was flourishing; he had just opened another Onigiri Miya in Tokyo. He had a good staff now, an organized system on how to manage it all. He didn’t have to be the only person worrying for the business anymore, since he had hired experienced managers. It allowed him enough breathing room to come home early, cook a nice, hearty dinner for you both that you enjoyed while sprawled on the couch in front of the TV. Money wasn’t a worry anymore.
So really, what was stopping you from bringing up the topic of kids?
You seemed to have become lost in the same thoughts again because you only came to when Osamu nudged you, making you blink and tear your eyes away from the TV screen. He was looking at you questioningly, and you could see a hint of worry behind his dark eyes.
“What’s on yer mind, doll?”
You shook your head and smiled, shrugging a bit. “It’s no big deal ‘Samu. Just a project at work.”
He hummed a little, shoving more noodles into his mouth and sparing you little glances as he did so. You knew he didn’t believe you. Your husband knew you too well to fall for such an obvious lie. But you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out how to broach the topic that was itching in the back of your mind for the last few days.
What do I even say? Put a baby in me?
You swallowed down the little knot that formed in your throat at the thought. Fuck. Was this turning you on? You grit your teeth tight enough that it hurt your jaw, scolding the little voice in your head to not do anything stupid.
When has your brain and lack of filter ever listened to you, though?
The next night, when Osamu had you sprawled on his lap, your back against his front, two fingers buried knuckles deep inside you and having pulled an orgasm out of you already, you babbled out the thought that had been plaguing you for many, many days.
“‘Sa- Samu,” you whined, long and desperate, dragging out his name. “Need your cock. Need your cum. Please.”
Osamu groaned in reply, pulling out his drenched fingers from your core and laying you on the bed. You pulled your legs up on instinct, spreading them wide, knees brought up to your sides. Osamu’s responding moan was sinful.
“S-shit, baby,” he breathed, clumsy hands quickly discarding his shirt and sweatpants. “Ya want it that bad? So ready to take me?”
You nodded your head frantically, back arching when he finally sunk his big, throbbing cock into you. The slide was comfortable and easy, considering how long you had spent spread apart on his fingers. Osamu wasted no time in immediately picking up speed, knowing exactly what spots to hit that had you reduced to a weepy mess.
You fumbled around until you had grabbed Osamu’s hands, hooking both of them under your knees and applying pressure. Osamu stared at you in realization before he shifted a bit and used his weight to hold your legs apart. You wanted him to put you in a mating press.
“This what ya want, sweetheart?” His voice was so hoarse you felt like you could cum just at the sound of it. “Fuck, ya look so sexy. All spread out fer me.”
Osamu was big on dirty talk, you knew. He loved speaking during sex and he loved when you spoke during sex. Over the years, you two had tried any and every thing in the bedroom that you possibly could, and you had lost all shame when it came to voicing your desires. The filthier, the better actually. Osamu could easily cum if you talked him through it.
Pair that with your days-old ruminating thoughts, and everything spilled out of you like word vomit.
“‘Samu,” you gasped. “Fuck me hard and deep, please. Please. Need to- need to be filled up with your cum, daddy. Need it.”
Osamu’s thrusts sped up and he cursed under his breath. “You’ll get it, babygirl. You’ll get daddy’s cum. Every last drop.”
You nodded frantically, crying out at a particularly well aimed thrust. “Yes! I- Osamu!” You wailed when his thumb made contact with your clit. Your nails dug into his back as you scrambled to pull him close. “Gimme. ‘Samu, gimme.”
Osamu was moaning into the skin of your neck, your legs over his shoulders and your body bent in half. “What’s gotten into ya today, baby? So greedy.”
You wound a hand through his hair, feeling the knot in your stomach pull tighter and tighter. You were seconds away from an orgasm. You pulled his head up by the hair until he was looking into your eyes. Your tears-coated, weepy eyes.
“Get me pregnant, Osamu. I want your kids.”
You didn’t have the time or the mental coherence to look at his reaction, because your orgasm washed over you like a freight train. Osamu’s movements stuttered, as a result of your words or you reaching your peak, you didn’t know. All you could do was feel the waves of electricity wash over you as you tried to breathe through the overwhelming feeling.
It was only when Osamu slowed to a stop in you, still twitching and throbbing, that you opened your wet eyes. He was looking down at you with mouth slightly open in shock, breathing still labored from his previous exertion. His dark hair was messy, stuck to the sweat on his forehead. All was silent between you.
“Are you serious?” He breathed, trying to see through your post-orgasm face. You nodded slowly.
“Thought about it a lot.” You admitted, tightening your legs around his waist a bit. “I’m ready if you are.”
A few more seconds, before Osamu bit his bottom lip and groaned, eyes falling to half mast again. He breathed deep, shaking his head. The corner of his mouth twitched up a bit.
“Do ya know how long I’ve waited fer this?” His voice was husky. He pulled himself up and unwound your legs from his waist. Then he bent you in half again, before setting a fast, bruising, brutal pace.
You gasped and threw your head back at the sudden change, pussy still sensitive from your orgasm, jaw going slack. His cock pounded into you with all the ferocity he could summon, one of the roughest sessions you two had had for a while, burning through you like embers crawling under your skin.
“Thought ‘bout it so much.” He continued choking out words, not slowing in the slightest. “The thought of ya all fat an’ swollen with ma kids. Fuck. Yer gonna look radiant.”
You moaned with him, picturing your pregnant belly, glowing face. Picturing a little human that you will birth. A human that Osamu could potentially put in you now.
“Daddy,” you whined. “Need…. I need- please.”
“Need what, baby?” Osamu had a little smirk on his face. His skin was flushed and damp, a drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face. His eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out his pupils. He looked feral.
“Need my load in ya? That it? Need ta take every last drop, yeah? Can’t risk wastin’ it.”
His hand came up, winding into your hair and tugging hard until you yelped.
“Take it, doll. Take it-”
His voice broke into a long moan as his hips stuttered and you felt warmth flood your insides, his bulging biceps trembling as he tried to hold his weight up through his orgasm. He was loud through it, coaxing you with rough words and even rougher fingers pinching your clit until you came one last time with a heaving cry, eyes rolling up into your head.
You had barely caught your breath when Osamu reached up to grip your face tightly with one hand, your cheeks squishing together. You stared at him with zoned out, misty eyes.
“Don’t ya dare waste a single drop.” He whispered so close that his lips brushed your puckered ones. “Keep it inside yer pussy like a grateful slut, ya hear me?”
You moaned in response, nodding weakly against his grip. He pulled out then and you clenched tightly, but you could feel it as a little bit trailed down your crack. Osamu hummed in disappointment, holding your legs open and watching as his cum leaked out.
“Poor baby. Couldn’t do it, could ya?” You felt him lean forward and brush a surprisingly soft kiss below your ear.
“I guess I’ll just have ta keep goin’ until I know yer pregnant fer sure.”
Taglist:
@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy y @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein
A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!
#miya osamu#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#miya osamu x y/n#miya osamu smut#osamu smut#haikyuu smut#hq smut#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#miya osamu imagine#miya osamu fanfiction#miya osamu fic#haikyuu fic#hq fic#hq imagine#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu fanfiction
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Osamu x female!reader
Osamu does the leg thing and it drives you insane. At first, he is subtle about it, just testing the waters. He slowly moves you with your back to the next wall while he kisses you, one hand on your shoulder, the other on your hip, guiding you to where he wants you. His kisses are slow and deep, sensual in a way you never knew was possible. It makes you feel loved, it makes you feel wanted and when your back hits the wall and his hands start to wander across your body, it makes you feel so undeniably horny.
Small moans and whimpers are muffled by Osamu's lips and tongue, still keeping his composure. But when he feels your hands needily grasping onto his broad shoulders, trying to get him closer to you, to feel more of him, he can tell how much you want him. So, very gently, he moves one of his legs, parting your own, and lets it slip in between your thighs.
You gasp when you feel the muscles in his thighs flexing against your core and, without even thinking about it, you push yourself down, against his leg, enjoying the delicious friction that has your head swimming.
You're already overwhelmed by how his hands feel on your body, how one travels from your shoulder over your throat, tracing your pulse point before moving over your chest to one of your nipples, his fingers finding the hardened peak beneath your clothes. The other one moves from your hip to your belly and the heat that comes off of his palm is almost too much for you to handle. But his leg is what sets you off.
He presses it harder against you when he feels you starting to get yourself off on him, he starts flexing his muscles in sync with your thrust. One of his big hands moves to your belly, putting pressure on the spot where you wish his cock was right now. He brings his other hand down to your hips to help you keep a steady rhythm. When he feels your thrust getting a little erratic, he tightens his grip on you, his fingers digging into your fat.
“Be a good girl and keep going,” he whispers against your neck, where he was leaving open-mouthed kisses just a second ago. “Good girl. Keep going. Come for me, sweet girl."
#osamu#lemon#osamu x reader#osamu x you#miya osamu#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#osamu x y/n#miya osamu x y/n#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu imagine#osamu smut#haikyuu smut#miya osamu smut
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although he doesn’t seem it, miya osamu would be the one to sneak a kiss behind the bookshelves of a library.
it was never a dramatic trip. you simply wanted to collect something to read in your pastime and he readily offered to accompany you, saying something about how he could look at the manga options.
the two of you make your way to your desired section, with you tucking behind the shelves until you find your favorite author. you run your fingers along the spines, until osamu gently lifts your chin and angles your face to meet his.
you’re shocked for a moment, so shocked that you barely register the press of his lips on yours. they’re warm and soft, and leaving yours far too soon as he steps away to look back at the books.
your best friend…kissing you… behind shelves?
well that complicates things.
#nova scribbles <3#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#osamu x reader#osamu x you#osamu x y/n#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya x you#osamu miya fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu headcanons
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he doesn't mean to make you sad, you know that. it's just that, when atsumu's upset it becomes everyone's problem—yours especially.
you don't know how it starts. atsumu had been bouncing off the walls just a moment ago, drunk off of booze and the afterglow of victory. you don't know which one of his teammates had invited her to the after-party, just that right now, you can't help but hate them.
it's just for a second, but you catch it. the way his eyes immediately dim, how his hand falters around yours. you don't want to jump to conclusions, but it's obvious—atsumu's in love with her. painfully so.
he drops your hand as if burnt and turns away, letting himself be carried off into another conversation. atsumu laughs loud enough to be heard over the music, a deafening house mix that thuds through your chest like a second heartbeat. anyone else might not spare him a second glance, but you know that when atsumu laughs that loud there's something he's trying to hide. then, as if remembering that you're still there, atsumu turns over his shoulder. you answer before he can ask the question.
"no no, go ahead. go have fun!"
atsumu tilts his head, though you know he's only asking to be polite. "are you sure?"
you smile. "no worries."
it's a bold-faced lie, but atsumu's never been that good at paying attention. he returns your smile with an excited nod, letting himself be led away by the shoulders. "don't go anywhere!" he shouts, though you know later on he'll forget to come find you. that's the way it always is. always has been.
you nurse your drink against your chest—water, you don't have the stomach tonight—and try to look on the bright side, if there is one. atsumu had been the one to invite you, hadn't he? and though you're still "just friends", he'd held your hand earlier, so that has to count for something, right?
it's useless. you down your water in one go, figuring that if you treat it like alcohol it might work like it is. it doesn't, and now you're alone at this party with an empty cup and an even emptier hand.
you sigh and snake your way out of the kitchen, making your way up the stairs to the first door that opens. the upstairs is off-limits, but you hope that whoever owns this room is drunk enough to be forgiving. you don't even bother to turn on the lights, and instead flop backwards onto the bed. you feel the music downstairs rather than hearing it, a steady thump-thump-thump that shakes through you from head to toe.
you close your eyes, trying very hard not to think about atsumu and the girl he's still in love with downstairs. it's not your place to be bothered, that you know, but something in your chest still aches at the thought. you've loved atsumu since before he met her, after all. it's a shame he hasn't noticed. or maybe he's not noticing on purpose, which is considerably worse.
"woe is me," you say to no one, your voice biting with sarcasm. you're not shocked at how things are turning out, moreso that you thought it'd turn out any differently. with a sigh, you close your eyes. atsumu will find you eventually. and if he doesn't, then someone else will. you'd rather be cursed at for trespassing than anywhere downstairs, faking a smile as you wait for atsumu like a well-trained dog. at least here you can lick your wounds in private.
you don't know how much time has passed when you feel something press into your side, warm and solid. arms wrap around you: one slung over your waist, the other snaking its way under your head. you turn in confusion, seeing nothing in the dark.
whoever's holding you down reeks heavily of liquor, and their arm feels like a dead weight around you. when you try to pull it off they hold onto you tighter, mumbling something incoherent under their breath. "um, hey," you say loudly, voice hoarse with sleep. "get off of me."
the person beside you stirs, and the bed dips slightly as they prop themselves up. they mumble your name under their breath, and in the dark you can make out the vague outline of a face.
with a start, you realize you recognize that voice. "...osamu?"
he lies back down, bringing you along with him. "h-hey," you start to protest, but osamu's grip grows stronger in response.
"don't leave," he mumbles, as you try to sit up.
"but—"
"m'head hurts. shhh." osamu shushes you, curling up against your side. his hair tickles the side of your reddening cheek.
"hey, osamu." you try to move out from under his arm again, to no avail. "you're really drunk."
"and?" he counters, pulling you closer, almost possessively. "just pretend for a little while."
that catches you off guard. "pretend?"
"it's dark, so it's easier," osamu refuses to elaborate. "c'mon. it's my birthday."
"osamu, your birthday's in october."
"is it?" there's an uncharacteristic cheekiness to osamu's voice, one that makes you turn your head towards him in surprise. you can't see him, but you can tell from the warmth that his face is only inches away. "well it's somebody's birthday, somewhere."
something touches your cheek—osamu's hand? no, his face. somewhere near his chin, guessing by the stubble that scratches your skin. "just do me a favor and pretend i'm him," osamu says, and in that moment he sounds scarily sober.
"wh-what?" you can't help the way your mouth hangs open at the request, your stomach feeling like it's about to drop out of you.
"you heard me," osamu mumbles, back to being drunk again. "pretend i'm him. you know what i mean."
"you—what—that's not—"
"am i wrong?" osamu presses, raising his voice like he's imitating his brother. it works. osamu's fingers trace across your face, reading the shock on your face like braille. you turn your head and press your nose to his neck—no cologne, only the soft smell of skin. it can't be atsumu, but for a moment, you're fooled.
osamu tilts his head and sighs, slow and sweet. and when his lips brush your forehead, it's like everything you've ever dreamed. "i'm right," he breathes, nestling his head against your shoulder. it's not a question anymore, but a fact. "i'm right," he sing-songs, still painfully drunk.
"osamu—"
a hand covers your mouth, warm and firm. softer than atsumu's, and just a bit bigger. "don't say my name like that," he whispers, his voice hot against the shell of your ear, "say it the way you say his."
you swallow an audible gulp. "osa—osamu?" you try again.
osamu shakes his head. needy hands pull you in by the waist. you feel osamu's lips kiss up the side of your neck. "not like that," he murmurs.
"o-osa...mu..." you're breathless and dizzy. you feel osamu's smile against the underside of your jaw.
"better," he grins, and this time, his lips find yours.
it ends before you can even react. osamu pulls away with a shaky exhale, as if he's slowly waking from a dream. his eyes shine back at you in the dark, wide and unblinking.
he opens his mouth to speak. "i—"
"you're drunk," you say immediately, and push him away by the chest.
osamu doesn't let you. he brings his hands over yours and keeps them there, and under the thin cotton of his shirt you feel his heart beating rabbit-fast. "so? i'll still want you when i'm sober."
his words choke your own out of your throat. "osamu...i can't—"
"so don't. don't do anything. just stay the night." there's a desperation in his words that makes your stomach flip. osamu holds onto you like he's afraid to let go. "please."
it's late, and you're tired. atsumu's in love with someone that isn't you, but osamu's arms are warm enough to make you forget. you think to yourself: is it selfish if he's willing? are you cruel for wanting to pretend?
you wrap your arms around his neck and osamu relaxes, melting into you the same way butter does on toast. he's soft, comforting. familiar, but not the same. osamu's lips brush on your neck again and the impact shudders through your spine like electricity. he takes his hands and rubs them over your arms, thinking that you're cold. you don't want to tell him that in reality you're burning up, feeling hot everywhere he touches.
"thank you," osamu murmurs into your hair.
"for what?"
"stayin'."
and when osamu kisses you a second time, you don't have the heart to push him away.
#spwrites#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#miya osamu#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#osamu x reader#osamu x you#drabble#light angst#unrequited#x reader#i have lots of thoughts about miya osamu#he is very gorgeous to me
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Hiii can I request prompt 59 with osamu!
"ah, sorry, i... oh, your hand's really soft."
OFC DEAR SKSMJDKDKSJSISKDKEK i wanna eat him he's such a LOVER BOY but is very lowkey about it, so SHY AND ADORABLE I EKDKSJKWNSIEKEJEKEK
"your hands are so... warm."
a long day of volleyball practice and studying prompted you to ask osamu if he wanted to go get some soda with you at the nearest convenience store. he agreed, not that he had any reason to disagree, since you were only the cutest and sweetest person he has ever had the pleasure of meeting.
you two entered the convenience store, and like an obedient little puppy–or fox, rather–he quietly walked with you along the aisles of the store, listening to you as you spoke, nodding and shaking his head all sleepily, looking over at you with half-lidded eyes that were full of subtle adoration and love for you.
you spoke to him all about what happened today, about all the little things and the bouts of excitement and disappointment all throughout your day; it was the highlight of osamu's day to hear all about yours, really–and hopefully he wouldn't sound creepy if he were to admit that he gets a little sluggish when he doesn't get to see or hear from you at all from the day.
"hey, wanna try this one?" you ask him as he moves closer to you, looking over your shoulder to get a better look at the drink. "oh, as long as it isn't too sweet or strong, i'll take it." he said as you smiled. you two exited the convenience store and sat down at a nearby bench, just relaxing after a long day of work, studies, and practice. you rummaged in the bag, and you pulled out the drink you introduced him to. "here ya go, samu." you said as you handed him the drink, with osamu thanking you in a small mutter as he reached for it.
there was a split second when his whole body jolted up and froze–and it was in the very instance that his fingers were wrapped around yours. you didn't flinch, you found nothing wrong with the way he was holding your hand, you felt a little warmed up at the feeling, really. osamu blushes a bright pink when he realized just what the soft, gentle feeling was underneath his fingers was, and he tried pulling away, but his mouth ran quicker than his hand and his mind, and he blurted out:
"ah, sorry, i... oh, your hand's really soft..."
"you... really think so?"
"i-i mean... you feel... just right, i mean...!" he blurted out again, trying to cover up his embarrassing confession, merely blushing even worse while you stifled a giggle and smiled right up at the flustered, pink mess of the boy that he was. he could be serious, calm, and deadpanned at times–but around you, his one and only weakness, the only person who can pull him to be more expressive, emotional, and fired up at times–he can be a shy, cute little lover boy. and he doesn't mind getting used to being rattled by how much you make him melt, he adores being made into an embarrassed puddle of adoration and devotion to you, always.
#osamu miya#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya x you#osamu miya x y/n#osamu miya fluff#osamu miya fanfiction#miya twins#miya twins x reader#miya osamu#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#miya osamu x y/n#inarizaki#inarizaki x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#haikyuu x you#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu fluff
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@coyloves ship & prompt: “Look how messy you are” w/ Osamu Miya ˚₊˚✧🍙✧˖°🍂
"I've been thinking about bending you over this table and just having my way with you" His knuckles caressed your chin before he gripped your jaw and made your head tilt to the opposite side of his face, to have easier access to your neck and kiss it. He smiled when he felt you straighten up, product of shivering. "You like the idea?" you thought you nodded, but it was so subtle your movement that it was enough for Osamu to understand that when you were speechless, it was because you found his proposal more than decent.
It wasn't the first time you had sex in the store. The routine would end up being the same as all the other times before: Osamu wooing you until he had you right where he wanted you, clumsy hands caressing each other's body, quick and warm kisses, and discretion in moaning so he could pay attention to the door bell in case Kita came carrying bags of rice. The last time was fun, despite the fact that you almost got caught red-handed.
"We should be quick."
"Yeah" Osamu said in a sarcastic tone. "I can see you're in a hurry" He pointed his gaze at the wetness in your panties, licking his lips, holding back from touching you still. "Look how messy you are".
"Samu! are you even listening to me?"
"I'm trying to pay attention, but you're just too sexy. Not gonna lie."
"Then, tell me what you want me to do" His grayish eyes bore into yours, able to read what they expressed.
Then Osamu lifted you up and sat you on the cold marble table of the warehouse, taking a quick glance at your body, stunned by the beauty of your curves, savoring them in his mind, decanting and amusing himself with his favorite parts.
"Let me hear your beautiful moans a second time today, darling" His thumbs played with the inside of your thighs, spreading them open, allowing a glimpse beneath them of your chubby pussy. "Hah… shit" He exhaled excitedly. His hips rocked forward instinctively, needing to have you lying there on your back for him, legs spread wide.
The throbbing in his chest began to ache as you lay back on the table and circled his hips drawing him to you, pulling your shirt up and exposing your large breasts squeezed into your bra.
"You're going to fuck me?"
"Fuck… Of course I do" In a quick set of hands, Osamu unclasped your bra as he worked his way under your boxers, reaching for his cock and pumping it a couple of times while his mouth was distracted with your breasts. He didn't skimp on making as much noise as possible as he savored and kneaded them at the same time, sucking your nipples and pinching them on his lips before releasing them. "They are so perfect… just mine" He kneaded relentlessly, and when he noticed that his cock was about to burst through his underwear, he released it as best he could, —caused by nervousness and quickness by the impatience of being inside you—, and pushing aside your panties, he entered you ever so slowly without losing sight of the expression on your face as he filled you.
"Atta girl, fucking your boss in his own warehouse, huh?"
He settled into a steady rhythm, and cursed himself for not having taken you earlier at that table. The movements of your body in response to his thrusts were something Osamu had yet to deal with. The bouncing of your tits followed by pithy gasps flooded his mind so quickly and directly, that in order to speed up the command his brain sent to his cock, he had to take possession of your hips and lighten the pace. His mind clouded as your insides tightened and his ears filled with his cursed name, thus ignoring —though not willingly—, your warning you were cumming. Osamu forgot the discretion agreed upon at the beginning and made sure to fuck you in the roughest way, letting anyone planning to enter the store know that he was busy to attend to any customers or receive any packages.
Maybe that day, the "closed" sign would remain hanging on the door for another hour.
#haikyuu smut#hq smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu x imagines#haikyuu osamu#osamu headcanons#osamu smut#osamu imagine#osamu x reader#osamu x reader smut#miya osamu x reader#osamu x you#osamu x y/n#osamu x chubby reader#chubby reader#chubby reader smut#osamu x female reader#ship & prompt haikyuu#ship & prompt smut#haikyuu ships#miya osamu x you#miya osamu x y/n#osamu miya x reader smut#osamu miya x you#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya smut
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[2:18 PM] Miya Osamu A/B/O
Hello - sorry for temporarily abandoning you all. I've been needing lots of motivation to finish WYE. Thought in the meantime, I could get reinspired again... and this is what I got. Completely smutty alpha Osamu.
Warning: My A/B/O works are never safe for work... completely explicit content that I'm wondering what is wrong with me lol. If you're new, do check out the other HQ and JJK A/B/O works too in my masterlist.
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Osamu sighed for the millionth time, running a hand through his gray mane. His dark brown-black roots were beginning to grow longer each day lately he has not cared to touch up the artificial color.
His mind has been preoccupied with Y/l/n Y/f/n.
Every second, minute, and hour of the day.
He has been making minor mistakes throughout the day, making his employees concerned.
His second in command had to kick him out, telling him to take a couple of days off.
“I can sort of detect your pheromones. Are going into a rut soon?” Hanzo asked, he is an alpha too.
Osamu groaned, losing track of his cycle. “Yeah, I’m due for it.” He stood up, “I should hurry and get out of here before I make the rest of you guys uncomfortable. Please take care of the restaurant for me, Hanzo.”
Hanzo saluted and watched his boss slip out the back door.
.
Osamu groaned as he ejaculated all over his hand for the second time. He barely made it through his apartment doors when he pulled his straining cock out to find relief.
His breath is uneven and he stumbled straight into the bathroom to wash his hands before searching for his medications. It felt different, stronger, and uncontrollable this time around.
His eyes widened when the cartridge was empty.
He couldn’t go out, shouldn’t go out when he couldn’t control his pheromone at the moment.
Osamu let out a deep breath, “I’ll be okay without them, I did fine last time.” The tiny voice in his head whispered, yeah, before you met Y/n.
His body was heating up, he fumbled to strip his black shirt off, tossing it on the ground as he stumbled into his bedroom. Immediately searched for the few clothing items she had left over at his place. The lightbulb in his head lit up when he remembered she tossed her worn dirty clothes in his hamper a few days ago. “Ah,” he sighed in relief and brought her panties to his nose, inhaling deeply.
His fist wrapped around his cock again and began pumping fast.
He needed Y/n.
Only her.
His cum shot out, dripping off his hand and onto the floor.
“’Samu?” He lifted his head, her panties still smothered against his nose. Was he hallucinating by seeing Y/n stand in the doorway?
He’s finally gone mad.
Osamu lifted one hand out towards her, his eyes hooded as he tried to focus them on her. “Y/n….” He sensed her hesitating and stumbled to stand back on his feet. His cock was still hard even after cumming three times, it bounced against his happy trail of hair. It was now thicker and longer than before. He was excited to see his Y/n. “Y/n… please… I need you.” His feet stumble as if he was drunk.
“Osamu,” she murmured, “you – you’re in your rut cycle…” her breathing became rugged as his pheromone began affecting her.
“I need – I need you…” he begged, “you’re the only one… I only want you… you my omega.”
Y/n flinched, choking on her breath as her body began to heat up. She gripped a hand over her heart, trying to control her breathing. “N – no…” Her knees trembled as she tried to press her thighs tightly together. The ache between her legs intensifies by the second. “’Samu…” she looked up and Osamu’s brown eyes were now golden-yellow, an obvious sign an alpha is in a full-blown rut.
“Y/n, my love,” he smiled, his voice full of sweetness, “my omega, right?” He cupped her cheek, his eyes shutting at skin-to-skin contact. He opened his eyes, “my omega, right, Y/n?”
She gripped his wrist, feeling his pheromone seeping through her skin. “Ye – yes… yours…”
“My what?”
Her other hand reached out to wrap around his cock, “your omega. I am your omega, alpha.”
His arm is around her tiny waist, tugging her against his chiseled body. Osamu’s mouth is on hers, tongue slipping past her lips to dance with hers. Her sweet moans ring like a melody and he wants to hear it for the rest of his life.
Osamu hoists Y/n up, carrying her to his bed. He set her back on her feet and began undressing her. His fingers working at a speed she couldn’t even keep track of which piece was coming off.
“’Samu,” she called his name softly, “I’m not going anywhere…” She placed a palm over his beating heart, feeling it thump. She released her pheromone and immediately felt him relax.
“More,” his voice is low and rough, he inhaled deeply.
Her pheromone mixed with his, creating a new euphoric ambiance.
“Ah!” Y/n gripped Osamu’s shoulders, being lifted off her feet again as he carried her to the middle of his bed. He gently placed her down on her back before pulling the remaining of his pants and boxer off.
Each time Osamu breathed, his cock twitched.
Y/n lift herself upward and reached for his cock, wrapping both hands around it and stroking it. “It’s bigger… than usual.” She glanced up at him with doe-like eyes, “will… it fit?”
The first time she took Osamu’s cock, she was nearly expanded beyond her imagination. It took a few times before her pussy finally molded to fit his cock.
The hint of pride was evident on Osamu’s smile, “it will fit, you were meant for me. You were meant to take my cock and you will take my knot too.”
“I’ve never been knotted before,” her statement was innocent but it was fuel to rile up Osamu. He was even more eager than ever to knot her at that moment.
His fingers brushed her hair out of the way before tilting her chin, “I will knot you as many times over until you become pregnant.” Something flickered in her eyes and Osamu pressed her onto her back, anchoring her petite small omega body beneath his large alpha body. “You are mine, Y/n, my omega… mine to fuck, to love, and to breed over and over… right?”
She bit down on her lower lip.
“Submit to me, Y/n,” he growled with a quiet but soft tone. “Say you’re mine to fuck, love, and breed.” His hand reached between her legs, and three of his thick fingers breached and penetrated her. Her tight walls hugged his fingers and he released more of his pheromone, instantly feeling her relax. They began thrusting in and out of her pussy, soaking his fingers to his knuckles before he slipped a fourth finger, making sure to stretch her wide for his rutted cock.
“Yes,” she murmured, her eyes shut as she fully submitted.
Osamu smiled widely, pecking her lips, “open your eyes and say it, tell me what I want to hear. Tell your alpha what he wants to hear…”
Her pussy clenched around his fingers hearing him speak in such a way. Her eyes opened and she gazed directly into his, her hand cupping his face. “I’m yours… yours to fuck… to love…”
“And breed?” He questioned, the tip of his nose trailing along her neck as he inhaled her scent emitted more sweetness than usual now that she had fully submitted to him. “I will breed you tonight, Y/n, take my word for it. You will never leave my home now without my scent on you, everyone will know you are mine.” His teeth bared, hovering over the sweat glands. “I will mark you mine for eternity. I will make you pregnant by the end of the night.” Her pussy fluttered around his fingers, and he pulled them out, coating her essence on his cock. “Answer me, Y/n.”
“Yes, breed me. Mark me… I’m yours. All yours.” She lifted her hip, “fuck me, ‘Samu… I need you…”
Osamu grabbed his aching cock and pressed it to her pulsing entrance before thrusting fully deep inside her. His head is thrown back as he groans her name. “Fuck, you’re so tight… so tight for me.” His fingers gripped her waist as his hips began moving in a steady rhythm.
His eyes lazily gaze down, mesmerized at how his thick cock would appear and disappear in her sweet pussy. Because it was his rut-cock, his size was enormous than usual, allowing him to see a visible outline where his cock was nestling inside of her. This was his first time seeing her belly bulge form from his cock.
Osamu admit he had a thick and long cock, and during his rut cycle, the size increased twice as much. He enjoyed watching his past partners struggle to take him and get off from the size of his cock. His size kink increased until he met Y/n.
She was the smallest of his partners. Rather than finding joy and excitement like he normally would, Osamu was nervous that Y/n wouldn’t be able to take his size. She struggled to take his cock the first time even when he took it slow and tried to be as gentle as possible. Though she was in pain, she still encouraged him to continue. Osamu had never felt the unfamiliar spark in his heart for someone until her.
She was the first person he held afterward, refusing to let her leave. When he woke up, she was gone with no trace at all. He did not know where to even start to search for her. They had encountered each other at one of those weekend events that alphas and omegas attended to search for their next cycle partner.
Osamu couldn’t take his eyes off her when she entered the room with two other girls. Her hair was in a high bun and she wore a simple dress that came down to her knees. They finally made eye contact from across the room and she winked at him before looking away.
That was Osamu’s cue to make the move.
He attended the next event, in hopes of running into her again but he was let down by the end of the night.
Weeks later he succumbed to a deep despair. His employees tipped toed around him, feeling like he was a ticking time bomb. No one knew what to do or how to help their boss.
Until their blessing entered the shop…
The onigiri slipped from Osamu’s hand and everyone stared at him confused and before anyone could ask him what was wrong, he was out of the kitchen. They all scurried after him and peeked through the curtains to see what startled him.
Standing before their boss was a pretty omega, staring at him with the same shocked expression. Her expression softened and she smiled, “hey, you.”
Osamu truly believed Y/n was his fated partner. She had been looking for him as well.
“I regretted leaving, I’ve never experienced such emotions and left my heart with you that night.” She cupped his face later that day, bringing him in for a deep kiss. “I don’t want to be without you again.”
They got to get to know one another, the proper way. Osamu took her out on dates and after the fourth one, he officially asked her out.
He was dying by the second as she teased him, contemplating on his offer before saying yes.
“Only if you make me cum,” she teased against his lips.
And he did, thrice.
“’Samu,” Y/n mewed, grabbing his wrists. Osamu is a master of her body, inside and out. He knew when she was ready to cum. “’Samu… please.”
“You ready to cum, baby?” he cooed, fastening his pace. He spread her legs wider, pushing her knees into the mattress. He shifted over her, slamming his cock deep and hard, his room echoing with skin on skin. He had control over her body, he has trained her to only cum on his command. Her walls began to tighten around his cock and her moans amplifies. “Okay, you can cum… cum for me…”
As soon as her pussy wall tightens and trembles around his cock, his cock explodes, shooting his thick load of seed into her womb.
He withdraws gently, watching his seed gush out like a waterfall instantly. Osamu quickly flipped her over, shifting her lower body upward. His cock is impaling her once again.
“’Samu – oh! Wait…” Y/n reached a hand behind to push against his abdomen but it was futile. He gripped her hips tightly, pounding into her from behind at a faster speed than seconds ago.
He leaned forward, his large frame easily towering over her. He licked her shoulder blade up to the sweet gland that was now emitting a heady aroma, one that was causing his mouth to water.
Osamu’s hands found her small ones and he threaded his fingers through hers, “need to mark you…”
Though he just came, he was ready for a second round. He spread her thighs wider, angling her so that he could reach her cervix. He groaned when the tip of his cock pushed against the secret opening of her cervix. “Need to knot… need to knot my omega…”
The cervix opening had the ability to stimulate the tip of an alpha’s cock. The tip becomes redder, and thicker to be able to lock the potent seed in the womb to ensure breeding was successful.
To prove, Osamu winced when the tip of his cock enlarges, he felt every ridge of Y/n’s pussy walls.
Y/n felt it herself, she whimpered into his pillow, her thighs widening and hips lifted to find comfort in the bulbous tip enlarging inside of her. She can feel it poking her cervix entrance, simulating and forcing entry.
As soon as the tip broke the barrier and her cervix opened allowing entrance, his knot inflated and filled her womb. Osamu took the opportunity to sink his teeth into her skin, over the sweet gland, breaking the skin so his essence could now mix with hers.
This will tie her forever to him.
It is natural her body will fight against him, he quickly shifted them onto their side, lifting her leg over his to keep pressure off the knot. His cock was still ejaculating, filling her womb beyond its limit. Glancing over, he can see her lower belly bulging almost as if she was already pregnant.
“Shh, it's okay,” he cooed, he licked her mark to cool the broken skin. He released his pheromone to calm her down.
Once mated, an alpha’s pheromone can provide more than before. It is the only medicine that will help their omega.
Her whimpers quieted down but she hugged his arm tightly. “It hurts…” she murmured, “too much…”
“I know, baby. I know. I’m sorry. You will get used to it. Only you can handle my knot. Only you…” He kissed her temple. They lay there in silence, just enjoying the quietness of each other’s breathing. “I love you.” He had yet to speak those words to her, but he felt this was a perfect time to tell her. “I think I have loved you from the first time I met you.”
Y/n kissed his bicep, “I love you too, Miya Osamu.” The romantic moment was ruined when his hand began to fondle her breast. She playfully slapped his hand but it remained, he squeezed them, sending a jolt down to her pussy. “Stop…”
Osamu groaned, feeling her squeezing around his sensitive cock. “I didn’t get to give them attention today,” he reached to cup the other side, flickering her perky nipple.
“Leave my small tits alone,” she demanded, yet moaning and squirming under his touch.
His knot had slightly deflated but she was still extremely uncomfortable from being plugged up with his cum.
“I love your small tits,” he kissed her neck, making sure to lick her mark. “It’s my third favorite thing about you.”
“Third?”
“Yep, first is your face, second is your pussy and third are your small tits.”
Y/n burst out laughing. “Well, I hear they do get bigger… once I become pregnant.”
One of Osamu’s hand slides down her front and rest against her bulging belly. “Yes, I promised I’ll breed you until you’re pregnant.” He tugged her closer, spooning her small frame. “They will get bigger with milk for you to feed me.”
“You?” she laughed.
“Well, one side, the baby will have to share one side with me.”
Weeks later, she found out she was expecting twins.
“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to eat your pussy while you breastfeed them.”
.
.
.
>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy
E/n: he sooooo nasty I love it.
#haikyuu smut#haikyu x reader#haikyuu miya osamu#miya osamu smut#miya osamu fluff#osamu smut#osamu miya#osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#miya osamu x y/n#osamu a/b/o#haikyuu a/b/o#alpha beta omega
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[baby fever] ft. miya osamu
wc: 400
iwa | ushijima | atsumu | sakusa | kageyama
--
You adjust the gemstone earrings as you finish up the final touches of your outfit. It’s been a really long time since Osamu has been free for date night and he was sweet enough to make reservations for tonight. You’re just about ready when he pops his head in to check on you.
“Ya ready, babe?”
“Just a sec!”
You grab your purse and make your way out. Osamu is waiting for you in the entryway, standing at his full height and dressed in a crisp, white button-up shirt. His usual attire of a plain black t-shirt is already enough to make you stare, but seeing the way his chest fills out the shirt and just the slightest bulge in his tummy makes you practically salivate.
Osamu doesn’t question the way you gape, only chuckling a bit and getting on his knees to slip your heels onto your feet. He plucks your purse out of your slack grip and slides it on his shoulder, holding a hand out to escort you.
You have heart eyes all night, keeping your gaze fixated on him instead of dinner. Osamu, a regular receiver of your stares, doesn’t seem to mind and simply opts to feed you bites of his dish when you remain still for too long.
At the end of the night, Osamu asks for the dessert menu and talks you through the options, pointing at the options he knows you would like.
You stop him though. You’ve been thinking about having a whole different nightcap all night. “Don’t want dessert, ‘Samu.”
“No?” he raises a brow, corner of lips curling upwards and thumb brushing over your pulse point.
“No,” you say.
“Why not?” he teases. “Not feelin’ well?” He puts a warm palm on your thigh, where 2 of his thick fingers slip just a centimeter under your dress.
“‘Samu,” you whine, but it comes out more of a gasp. You involuntarily push your thighs together.
He lets out a low laugh and squeezes your thigh once. When he takes his hand back, his vacated spot feels cold, and he gives your ring finger a kiss in condolence. “I’ll go pay. Be right back.”
When Osamu comes back, he helps you into your coat and easily grabs your hand to begin the short walk home. You’re silent on the walk, feeling hot. It doesn’t get better as Osamu breathes into your ear, grazes his hand around your hips, and pushes your bangs away every time the wind moves a single strand out of place.
He’s in an astronomically good mood and finally, you give him the stink eye. “You’ve been teasing all night,” you pout.
“I thought you liked it.”
You harrumph and mumble, “you won’t like it so much when we accidentally pop out a kid 9 months from now.”
He raises a brow, pressing your whole body closer to his side.
“Says who?”
#noos writes#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x reader#hq x y/n#hq x reader#hq x you#hq fluff#hq imagines#miya osamu#miya osamu fluff#miya osamu x you#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x y/n#osamu miya#osamu miya fluff
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kinktober 2023 -> day 22
knot - miya osamu x reader
word count: 1988
warnings: alpha!osamu and omega!reader, a/b/o dynamics, swearing, knotting, mentions of heat and rut
kinktober masterlist
You knew you would regret this. God, the amount of stupidity that was going into your decision right now would make you hurl later. But right now, you could give less of a shit.
It was with teary eyes and choppy, difficult breaths that you messaged Osamu. SOS. Come over ASAP. Your fingers trembled as you typed, and your vision was a mess, swimming, things going in and out of focus. Once you had sent the message, you dropped your phone somewhere out of sight, flopping back onto the bed, your sheets damp with sweat.
It was Day 6 of your heat, and even though normally things would start calming down by now, you were nowhere close to that. Instead of slowly cleaning up, like you often did during this time, you were still motionless on your bed, breathing hard and heavy, sweaty all over, and core clenching so painfully it made you cry fresh tears every few minutes. You had finally accepted that no amount of warm water bottles or silicone dildos could get you through this. Your body was craving an Alpha’s knot. And your heat was too stubborn to go down without it.
Hence the text to Osamu.
Osamu had been your friend for a few years now, ever since he opened his first ever branch of Onigiri Miya. Your personalities had gelled extremely well, so it was no wonder that you both made room for each other in your lives. Osamu was someone you trusted completely. He was kind, very caring, very perceptive, and very protective. He was the perfect Alpha, and of course, your little Omega heart had fallen head over heels for him. You were convinced however, that he didn’t feel the same for you. Osamu didn’t seem interested in courting at all, with anyone. He had briefly mentioned to you how focused he was on expanding his business, so you were sure he had no desire to be tied down with a mate at the moment. And so, your feelings remained boxed up, grateful to be part of his life in any way, even if it was platonic.
But biology could not be ignored. Even if you had gaslit yourself into believing you were fine being his friend, the Omega in you craved him. Desperately. Ardently. So no wonder you were still here, still in the very depth of your heat, with no signs of it stopping anytime soon. No wonder your Omega had taken over, mind blanking as you texted Osamu to come to you. You had lost to your Omega in your vulnerable condition, and you had beckoned the Alpha to you. Now you lay there, anxious, not knowing what you would do. All you knew was that you wanted him so bad you would do anything to get him.
The banging on your door startled you, and you heard Osamu’s muffled voice call out your name. With the last remnants of your strength, you stumbled out of your room and to the front door, clad in nothing but your tiniest shorts and skimpy crop top. The banging continued, even as your shaky hands unlocked and unchained the door. When you pulled it open, you nearly crumbled.
Your bloodshot eyes met Osamu’s calm, gray ones, his hand held up mid-knock. You saw the exact moment your scent hit him, his face scrunching and entire body stiffening, eyes widening in realization.
“You’re- you… Y/N, you-” His hand shot up to cover his nose, taking a step back. You abruptly shot forward, hand fisting the front of his shirt so he wouldn’t go any farther, tugging so hard that he stumbled towards you. You took advantage of that and pulled him further inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it.
Osamu groaned behind you, and you turned in time to see his eyes wandering over your almost bare body, your clothes leaving nothing to the imagination. His chest heaved, and a faint sheen of sweat was already forming around his hairline.
“Y-ya need to let me leave.” His voice was low, words muffled behind his hand. You almost moaned at the sound.
“Can’t.” You choked out, eyelids fluttering as you took in great big breaths of air, reveling in his wonderful scent, which was heightened by your sensitive nose. You stepped closer to him, knees buckling. He immediately stepped back. You whined in protest.
“Ya don’t want this.” He continued to reason. “Yer in heat. Yer not thinking straight.”
You shook your head furiously. “Always- always wanted you, Alpha.” You breathed. “Wanted you for so long. But you,” your lower lip wobbled. “You didn’t want me.”
Osamu’s eyebrows shot up, eyes widening in shock. He remained frozen in place as you moved closer to him, until you were right before him, standing on your tiptoes to nose at his neck, right on top of his scent gland. You heard him release a shaky exhale, hand dropping from his mouth as he finally breathed in your scent.
“Fuck.” His voice was strained, not protesting or stopping you as you moved forward, body pressing to his. Your tongue lapped over his neck, scenting him with fervor now that he wasn’t stopping you, and the Omega in you purred in satisfaction when your scent started mixing with his. And he was letting you.
“Omega…” His protest was weak, hands already brushing over your bare sides, fingers flexing as if he was holding himself back. So you decided to give him one final push.
“Why do you think my heat won’t go down?” You mumbled into his neck. “My Omega needs you, ‘Samu. Needs your knot. Give it to me, Alpha. Need it so bad.”
That’s all it took.
Osamu bent his head until his lips met yours, hard and rough. You keened into his mouth, one hand reaching up to tangle tightly in his hair while the other fisted his shirt to pull him even closer. Osamu’s hands were running wild over you, your waist, your hips, running down your back until they squeezed your ass. You arched into him, sighing when his fingers brushed over your clothed slit, groaning low.
“Yer soaking.” He whispered, voice low and thick with want. He pushed the crotch of your shorts aside, immediately shoving two long, thick fingers inside you. You cried out at the feeling, clenching desperately around him.
“What’d ya use?” He asked, his other hand gripping so tight at your waist it almost hurt. “Dildo? Vibrator? Tell me. What’d ya stuff this weepin’ cunt of yers with?”
You moaned at how filthy he sounded, at how prominent his accent got when he was turned on. You mumbled your answer into his neck, clinging to him as you ground your hips down on his fingers, trying to prolong the relief his fingers brought. He chuckled.
“Dirty little ‘Mega. Ya want me this bad? Look at ya, yer drippin’ down my whole hand.”
Your knees buckled again, and this time Osamu didn’t stop you. Instead, he lowered himself along with you, until you were sprawled right there, on the floor of your living room, legs spread and welcoming Osamu as he fit snugly there, his tongue running wildly over your entire neck, nosing at your scent gland. His throbbing erection pushed into your thigh, his fingers still working into you at a leisurely pace. You whined.
“Alpha, please.” You choked out, pleading with him through teary eyes. “Please.”
Osamu pulled away from your neck to look down at you, and you noticed how flushed he was. His hair was a mess, face red and eyes wild. His lips were swollen and bruised, and through his open mouth, you could see the faint beginnings of his canines. They were elongating. Your eyes widened.
Was your heat triggering Osamu’s rut?
You didn’t have it in you to think about it further because Osamu was sitting up, undressing quickly and doing the same to you until you were both bare before each other. You moaned at the sight of his cock, hard and throbbing, flushed to an angry maroon shade. The base was already a little swollen and your mouth watered at the sight. Your Omega keened. There it was. His knot. And you needed it inside you now.
Osamu seemed to be on the same page, because moments later he was pushing into you, taking advantage of the copious amounts of slick you were producing to slide straight in, groaning loud when his hips met yours, buried into you to the hilt. Your jaw went slack, immediately feeling your body temperature go down and the pain in your core settle slightly. Your Omega preened and settled, finally getting what it so desperately craved. Your Alpha on top of you, stuffing you full of his cock, the promise of getting his knot soon.
(Of course, he wasn’t your Alpha. You were pointedly ignoring that fact.)
Osamu was quick to set a punishing, fast pace, ramming his cock into your wet hole with all his might. You gasped and shook under him, eyes rolling up in your head at the feeling. It felt divine, after days and days of wanting exactly this, finally having it felt like an out of body experience. Your cunt was fluttering in delight, so happy to get what you wanted, and you felt your whole body sing at the feeling. You watched as Osamu smirked a little, smelling the shift in your scent.
“Feel good?” The question was rhetorical. How you were feeling was written all over your face, evident in the way your scent sweetened. Yet you still furiously nodded.
“So good, Alpha.” You whined, arching up off the floor, your breasts bouncing with each harsh thrust. “Fuck. Wanted this so bad. Wanted your cock in me for so long. God, need your knot. Please. Please.”
Osamu groaned, broken and shaky, cursing under his breath as he lifted your legs up to your chest, pressing down until you were folded into a mating press, his pace becoming even more rough and sloppy. You cried out at the feeling, eyes widening at how suddenly his demeanor had changed. You eyed Osamu curiously through your wet eyes, watched the gold specks appear in his eyes, watched his canines elongate until they were reaching below his bottom lip.
Osamu had just started his rut.
Your back arched up as your orgasm hit you full force, legs kicking and flailing as much as they could in Osamu’s bruising grip, feeling wave after wave of electricity zip through you. Osamu’s cock was swelling rapidly at the base, indicating how close he was to finishing too, the size of it catching on your abused hole with every thrust until he was moaning loud, pressing forward with force to make sure he could bully the knot into you. You cried out at the stretch, gasping when Osamu stilled and his cum started pouring into your cunt. He twitched and shook above you, riding out his orgasm as you ran a hand over his back, coaxing him through it.
All was silent except your heaving breaths. Osamu slowly lowered your legs until they were wrapped around his waist, knot still snug inside you. You sighed and wrapped your arms over his broad shoulders, eyelids fluttering shut. He carefully nosed at your neck.
“Feel better?” He asked, voice hoarse. You hummed and nodded in reply.
“What about you? I think I triggered your rut.” You looked down at him sheepishly, eyeing the sharp canines now prominent against his lips, and Osamu sighed, mouth twitching up into a smile.
“Ya did.” He relaxed into you even more, cock shifting inside you slightly. “Can’t say I’m mad about that. It was totally worth it.”
You giggled, leaning your cheek against Osamu’s hair as you both waited for his knot to go down.
“For what it’s worth, Y/N, I’ve always wanted ya too.”
Taglist:
@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel l @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein
A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!
#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu smut#miya osamu x you#miya osamu x y/n#miya osamu fanfiction#miya osamu imagines#miya osamu fic#alpha miya osamu#omega reader#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu a/b/o#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu smut#haikyu smut#a/b/o#haikyuu omegaverse
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haikyuu boys and their kinks pt. 3
-> other parts
-> MIYA OSAMU
a/n: I decided to write small drabbles for each of the kinks instead of just doing headcanons so lmk which one is better!
-> nudes / filming
Osamu's in his car, in the dark driveway in front of your shared apartment. His day has been long and stressful and he wants nothing more than hold you and go to sleep. But you went out with your friends, leaving him all alone. He doesn't want to wait for you to come home tonight to see you - and he doesn't have to.
His phone screen comes to life and so does his cock in his pants. The anticipation of what he knows is coming is making his breath speed up and his blood rush to his abdomen. Quickly, his fingers find their way through his home screen, his camera roll all the way to his favorite video. He undoes his pants and pulls his half hard cock out, stroking it as he starts the video.
Immediately, your moans and whines fill the small space of his car. It's the first video you ever let him take of you, so it's shaky and short but it's the best. It never, ever fails to get him off. The camera pans over you ass, pushed up high towards him like the good girl you are while your scrunched up face is down on the sheets, mouth wide open and eyes unfocused. Osamu groans at the familiar sight and instantly starts fisting the tip of his cock. The camera starts focusing on his cock pushing in and out of your obscenely wet pussy, darting back and forth between your face and your ass. How he loves seeing you like this.
He loves hearing your moans and babbles as he fucks you so good you can't focus on anything. He loves knowing that you send him and let him take videos of you like this, so open and vulnerable. He loves knowing that this sight is for him and him only. It never takes him long to spill his load when he watches this - or any - video of you getting fucked by him (or fucking yourself for him) and it doesn't take long for him to do so now, either.
He sits there, still panting, in his car as he closes his eyes for a moment and stops the video absent-mindedly. Once he is done catching his breath, he switches from his camera roll to the camera itself. With a quick flash, he takes a picture of his still throbbing, hard cock covered in his own cum. Maybe he'll get you to come home quicker after all.
-> quickies
A big, warm hand comes up to cover your mouth and muffle the whine threatening to spill out of it.
"So good to me, hm?" Osamu pants as he keeps drilling his cock into you. "Always makin' sure I'm taken care of."
He had forgotten his lunch at home. Of course, he could always just make himself something from the food he has at his restaurant but since you had nothing to do today anyway, you decided to spare him the work and bring him his lunch over. The restaurant is supposed to open in just a few minutes, but Osamu can't bring himself to let you go without giving you a proper "Thank you". His version of doing that is just this - fucking you mercilessly on the table in his office over the restaurant, keeping your mouth covered so you don't moan loud enough for his poor waitress to hear you downstairs, both of your clothes pushed barely out of the way to let him slide into you.
"Let me make ya feel good, yeah?"
All you can do is nod dumbly against his hand still covering your mouth. His other hand sneaks down your body until his fingers find your clit. Osamu knows just how to touch you, how to make you fall apart under his touch and cum all over his cock and fingers.
"So sweet," he's panting above you, "poor clit was just begging for me to touch it, yeah?"
You whine against his hand and screw your eyes shut as you start feeling tears forming. It's too much, too good.
"I know, I know.. always so sensitive.. gonna cum for me soon, hm?" He starts rubbing his fingers against you, drawing the patterns he knows you love.
You can't hold back anymore and just like he says, you cum way sooner than you planned to. You want to draw it out, but Osamu loves knowing that he can get you off so quickly, he loves that he knows you well enough to make you come undone within minutes and he loves fucking you right before he goes to work - it just makes his day a bit brighter and his work flow a bit easier.
#osamu#lemon#miya osamu#osamu x reader#osamu x you#osamu x reader smut#osamu x you smut#osamu x y/n#haikyuu#haikyuu smut#miya osamu smut#osamu smut#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you
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osamu miya is the “lowkey” twin compared to atsumu but i think it would be fucking hilarious to have him be the one with you as an enemy
you get along with the entire volleyball team — always helping them pick up balls at the end of practice and showing your support at every game. you sit in classes and offer notes, tutoring, and companionship to atsumu and co, and the team absolutely adores you…..except for osamu.
some petty story of his — you met on the first day of first year and you more or less insulted everything he’s ever loved offhandedly (differences in opinion) and instead of being mature about it, he decided to hate you for eternity. it doesn’t help that you competed against him in class and kept getting more and more attractive by the year (i mean…now he’s got you and your looks to fight against)
the team all knows that this rivalry is really just subtext for him not wanting to admit that he liked you more than anyone else on the team but hated the idea of it enough to ever admit it.
still, even with you as his enemy, you’ve captured his attention from the very start.
#nova scribbles <3#even thinking about this is making me laugh#osamu x reader#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya#osamu miya headcanons#osamu miya x y/n#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#miya osamu fluff#haikyuu x you#haikyuu headcanons
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my brother's best friend
pair. miya osamu x gn!reader
content: fluff, attempts at humour, miya atsumu is a little shit, first loves, mutual pining
synopsis. miya osamu takes pride in the fact that he’s the smarter of the twins. he, in fact, is not (especially when it comes to you).
wc. 3.1k
a/n: om nom nom nom nom brother's best friend trope nom nom nom... ok i have to come clean about this fic i literally wrote the first draft for this in 2021 on WATTPAD and it's been sitting dormant forever up until recently. enjoy 🫶
oh my god, how did i end up here?
it’s the only thought repeating over and over again in osamu’s head as he sits there staring at you. you’re too preoccupied with the menu in your hands to notice his unwavering gaze, scanning through it and muttering to yourself indecisively about what to order.
of course, the question of how he ended up here on a date with you could be summarized in one simple sentence:
miya atsumu is the world’s biggest idiot.
if kita or aran were here they would surely be poking fun at him right now, lecturing him about how his dna is a perfect carbon copy of atsumu’s. and while they would be right, osamu is convinced his brother has at least 70% less brain cell capacity.
the thought makes him feel a little smug. (he’s in the class under atsumu.)
you were friends. at least as far as how often you saw each other, he considered you good friends. maybe. not that he knew all that much about you other than the fact that you were constantly... around. if he didn’t know that atsumu was the biggest knucklehead on planet earth, he would have assumed you were dating. but he knew his brother was too invested in volleyball to be seeing anyone seriously, and you didn’t didn’t seem like the type to mess around with guys like him anyways.
you were way too level-headed for that despite the raunchy, head-turning jokes you liked to tell, which honestly might be the reason why atsumu keeps you around.
whenever you came to their house, you would stick to lounging in atsumu’s room or the living room. you typically avoided disturbing osamu and the rest of their family — not like they minded having you around. no, in fact, their mother had a strange soft spot for you. you were quiet and well mannered, until it was just the three of you and suddenly an onslaught of fierce attacks on poor atsumu would commence.
for the majority of your friendship, you have stayed out of his way and he stays out of yours. you only talk to each other when deemed necessary, like when walking home from school or when you shyly greet him at the door because atsumu is on the toilet. he does, however, rejoice in the fact that there is another person on the atsumu hate train, and appreciates that you’re at least colourful with your insults. it’s impressive, really.
(he would never admit it. never. never ever. but it warms his heart a little that there’s someone out there just like him, expressing their love for miya atsumu in less conventional ways.)
you were quick witted and funny. a free source of entertainment when he would grow bored of his brother’s shenanigans. and it was a two way street, because when you needed a break from atsumu, osamu was always right there.
you were noticeably gentler with the younger of the miya twins: asking him how school was, and if he needed help with his chemistry homework, and what he had for lunch. menial little things, but sometimes he found himself thinking that it was the highlight of his day.
otherwise, your presence in his life is, as osamu considers it, indifferent.
sure, he likes to look at you. and sometimes, maybe, he wishes you and atsumu would invite him around more often. it also doesn’t help his heart when you’re so nice to him, like when you’re all having dinner together and you pretend you don’t want the last dumpling on your plate and shovel it onto his. he likes that. or when you invite yourself into their freezer for ice cream, you always make sure to grab an extra one for him. there have been multiple occasions in which you’ve wordlessly slid him your notes to copy, too.
you were good at that; knowing what others wanted and being more selfless than the average person. you’re a people pleaser, and though he and atsumu used to make fun of your type when they were kids, your charm is undeniable.
unfortunately, actually making any sort of move on you is out of the question. not only would it potentially complicate things between you and him, it would also risk putting a strain on your friendship with atsumu. making his brother’s life a living hell is what miya osamu was born into this world to do, but for some reason his stomach turns at the thought of ruining your friendship.
you were just atsumu’s cute best friend. nothing less, nothing more. and he would very much like to beat the “i fell in love with my brother’s best friend” allegations, thank you.
he realizes he’s still looking at you intently with his arms crossed over his chest. he watches as your nose scrunches a little in thought, trying to decide between their two best sellers. he sighs in relief when you get up to order for yourself, tucking a stray hair under his cap before going back to sulking with his thoughts.
atsumu had a lot of bad ideas. so many that if they sat down and listed them all out they might be there for a couple days. but this? this is his worst one yet. and how osamu managed to get roped (bribed) into this, he will never know. but here he is, and here you are, and here atsumu is not.
he really should get better at saying no to atsumu.
(“c’mon, ‘samu! please? for me?!”
“what the hell? no. that’s a shitty thing to do. just tell them ya can’t go.”
“but it’s their birthday! they were lookin’ forward to this. they’ll hate me forever if i bailed!”
“and? why would i help you? ‘specially with somethin’ so stupid. it’s your fault you didn’t plan better.”
“don’t be like that, y’know it was a last minute thing!”
a beat of silence.
“pretty please? it’s their birthday… you guys are friends too, right?”
osamu can’t believe he’s entertaining this stupid idea for even a second. you’re not an idiot. you’d know it’s him with a single glance.
“this is an all time low, even for you. they’ll notice it’s me right away. are ya crazy, ‘tsumu? hit your head or somethin’?”
“it’s just this one time! i’ll never ask ya for anythin’ ever again. never ever ever ever, i swear it.”
“...’tsumu…”
“don’t sound so tired with me! do this for your big brother. have i mentioned it’s their birthday?”
big brother? osamu scoffs loudly.
“you actually mentioned it three times. and yer only a couple minutes older than me. but... fine.”
“don’t be such a jacka- wait, what?”
“i said fine. but you owe me lunch for the next two weeks.”
“deal!”
“... are ya sure they won’t know it’s me? i mean, i really think you should reconsider-”
“oh shut up, ‘samu, we’re identical!”
“just know that i won’t hesitate to throw ya under the bus if shit hits the fan.”)
what a terrible plan. pretending to be atsumu was proving to be harder than he initially anticipated. he would have thought that spending every agonizing, waking, living hour with his brother would have trained him well enough, but atsumu is so no-chill that it’s somehow making this already horrible idea even worse with every passing second.
surprisingly, you haven’t said anything. you haven’t acknowledged the massive elephant in the room. this could only mean one of three things:
1. you’ve noticed, but you’re desperately trying to spare atsumu’s feelings and osamu’s embarrassment by not bringing it up.
2. you’re dumber than he thought. dumber than a rock, actually, if you didn’t take one look at osamu and know it was him.
3. you are a cruel, wicked, evil, deranged human being who finds osamu’s situation entirely hilarious and wants this to go on for as long as possible.
judging by your casual banter, he’s willing to bet it’s either option one or two. you’re twirling a lanyard around your finger when you finally return with your drink of choice in tow. next destination: the local aquarium. atsumu put a surprising amount of effort into planning the day.
it’s a shame he hadn’t accounted for planning himself into it.
he shouldn’t have agreed to come here.
spending time alone with you like this was bound to stir up feelings he’d long ago buried in the hollows of his heart. of the miya twins, osamu was always better at keeping his emotions under wraps. there were rare occasions in which he lost his cool, in which he was actually somehow worse than atsumu, but in general he was as level-headed as you were.
you’re ruining him and his plans to never acknowledge his feelings for you.
it’s unfair, really, how his heart seemingly gets lodged in his throat when you cling to his arm so tightly, laughing and pointing out all the funny-looking fish. and when you point at something called a vampire squid, raving about how long it took you to find one in animal crossing, he nearly crumbles to his knees and puts his head in his hands.
(in other words, he’s totally whipped. he’s not beating those allegations.)
osamu thought he could get used to looking at anyone’s face. he always found people boring — he grew up being the other half of his brother, after all. the miya twins are many things, but boring is not one of them, and to entertain them you have to be someone with a special brand of humour.
but now, as he looks at you with the soft blue glow from the tank shining against your face, he can’t help the thought that crosses his mind:
i could never get tired of this.
“... hailing from the depths of tropical and subtropical waters, the vampire squid feeds on marine snow.”
he blinks back into reality, eyes drifting from you to the sea creature you’re admiring, then back to you. “marine snow? sounds gross.”
“it’s the debris that falls to the lower levels of the ocean. lots of deep sea creatures feed that way since it saves them the energy of needing to go hunt.”
osamu seems skeptical. “they really just eat anythin’ like that?”
your head turns to look at him. there’s a little smile playing on your face, like you seem amused by what he just said. “sounds like someone i know.”
he makes a strange expression in response. were you talking about him? did you often bring him up when you were alone with atsumu? the soft and fond look in your eyes doesn’t help his racing heart. the idea that you and atsumu talk about him in private so sweetly makes his face burn slightly in embarrassment.
he shakes his head to get the thought out of his brain before stuffing his hands into his pockets.
your arm finds his again, locking together. it’s an oddly intimate action, even if you think he really is atsumu. he doesn’t know you to be the most touchy person on earth, though he supposes he can’t see what you’re like behind the closed doors of his brother’s bedroom. his blood boils for some reason.
you stop at the next tank, the one situated in the centre of the room filled high with kelp and schools of tiny fish. you’re looking at them with wide eyes, light shimmering in them. he could cry right now. you look like an angel bathed in the shadows of dancing fish as your gaze carefully follows a school circling around the top of the aquarium.
there’s a feeling swimming inside of him, unfamiliar and oh so dreadful. he can feel it in raging in every part of him — in his heart, in the fiery pits of his stomach, in his throat — and he knows exactly which word comes to mind.
miya osamu may be in the lowest class in his year, and he might share a single brain cell with his brother, but he’s read enough books to describe this feeling. he’s listened to enough love songs to know this ache in him.
if you asked him ten years from now, he’d tell you exactly the same thing as he would right now; that your first love is always petrifying.
“pretty, aren’t they?”
“yeah. real pretty.”
but he hasn’t looked at them even once. how could he when there’s a living, breathing angel standing next to him?
osamu delivers you to your doorstep that night.
it feels like a dream, the whole day and having the privilege of holding your hand and feeling your body against his.
maybe it was just the greedy monster in him speaking. the laws of the universe dictate that if it’s you and osamu, atsumu needs to be there, too. the miya twins have always come in a package. a duo. there is no just atsumu or just osamu, at least there wasn’t until you came along.
suddenly it was you and atsumu. it was atsumu and osamu, and you. but there was never just you and osamu. it didn’t work that way.
well, screw the universe and its laws. osamu never believed in that astrology shit anyways.
he’s fully prepared to keep this day an untarnished memory — something to cherish when life goes back to normal and he’s unable to stand shoulder to shoulder like this with you again.
when you lean in to kiss him, there is only one thought repeating in his mind like a mantra:
it’s just once. just one day. one last perfect memory.
you’re so close that he can feel your breath filling his lungs. his heart hammers where it rests in his chest, so loud that he can hear it thundering in his ears. it’s then that he realizes this is wrong. all of it is wrong.
he recoils back with lightning speed, and his heart aches at the sight of your disappointed and puzzled expression. but it’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to atsumu either.
he cares about both of you too much to be selfish right now.
how could he possibly risk hurting two of the people he cared most about in the world? he couldn’t be that self-centred, to be able to steal a kiss from you just to keep his memories of this day perfect.
perfect doesn’t exist if none of it is real.
“i’m not… i’m not who you think i am.”
he slides the hat off his head with shame burning in his cheeks, avoiding your eyes like a child who got caught with his hand in a cookie jar. it was time for him to be honest, both with you and himself.
“look, yer really cool. and i– crap, it’s complicated, ‘kay? i might like you. like– like you, like you. i wasn’t thinkin’ straight. 'm really sorry, i know it was wrong to string you along, i was just havin’ so much fun today that–”
his mouth suddenly comes to a halt as you reach forward and capture his cheeks between your fingers, squishing them together so he’ll stop rambling.
you look at him with a confused but amused smile. “um, ‘samu? i like you, too.”
“what?” he sputters out as much as he can with his face still held in place. his brows furrow, but all rational thoughts have stopped flowing in his mind. he’s staring at you like a flabbergasted idiot, so you continue.
“why else would i agree to go on a date with you on my birthday?”
“but– i– huh?”
your head tilts. “this was a date, wasn’t it?”
it dawns on him then. it had never occurred to osamu that there was another explanation for your strange lack of acknowledgment that he is painfully easy to see through:
4. you like him and simply thought this was a date. you like him as much as he likes you, which is a stupid amount. after all, he likes you enough to go through with an infinite number of atsumu’s terrible ideas just to make you happy.
of course you weren’t that dense. of course he was found out the second you laid eyes on him. of course he had misread the entire situation because he was blinded by his brother’s boisterous claims that they were indistinguishable.
“this is ridiculous. i can’t believe you–… atsumu somehow always pulls through even when he doesn’t mean to.”
“what do you mean?”
“whadd’ya mean, what do i mean?”
“about atsumu?”
“oh, he was freakin’ out about missin’ today and wanted me to go through this whole thing pretendin' i’m him so ya wouldn’t be mad at him.”
“but he already told me he couldn’t make it today? you really didn’t have to do… all this,” you gesture to his whole body with a flick of your wrist.
at your words osamu finally crumbles to his knees in pure agony. he looks up to the sky, to whatever god has forsaken him by making atsumu his other half, and sighs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. he can just imagine the shit-eating grin his brother has right now.
“i’m…” he pauses, carefully selecting his next words, “going to smother him with a pillow.”
you blink at him for a moment before all the pieces fall into place.
all the times you’d gushed to atsumu about your massive crush on his twin and the way he’d complain to no end about neither of you making a move, forcing him to watch on with mild disgust as his best friend and brother made goo goo eyes at each other. all the times he would “forget” his shoes at the gym and need to run back to grab them, pushing you into small talk with osamu. all the times he would suffer through your teasing just to see the two of you walking side-by-side sharing proud little smiles.
atsumu’s resume looks something like this: world’s biggest idiot, volleyball player, third-wheel, and tired wingman.
you’ll have to thank him later.
“no wonder you’ve been acting so weird all day! i thought you were just one of those guys who gets nervous on first dates!” accompanied by this statement is a laugh that makes osamu weak.
he grumbles. “what’s so funny?”
“say what you want, but you’re as dumb as ‘tsumu.”
“no… please… don’t compare me to that nitwit… i might have a heart attack at this rate.”
you snicker quietly as you help osamu back onto his feet, eyes shimmering with joy as you let his confession sink in.
“you’re right, he is an idiot.”
“dumbass.”
“moron.”
“he’s gonna hate us even more from now on,” osamu smiles uncontrollably, inching closer to you again.
“yeah?” your lips brush against his daringly, “i can live with that.”
EXTRA:
© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.
🏷️ @hyomagiri (im dead like actually dead)
#— whispers in the wind ✧#he's so stupid i wanna kiss him so bad#haikyuu#haikyu#miya osamu#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#miya osamu x y/n#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x you#haikyuu fluff#hq x reader#osamu miya#osamu miya x you#osamu miya x y/n#osamu miya x reader
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Mean Streak (reader's version)
Osamu is the world’s most perfect boyfriend: Sweet, doting, protective. He’d give you the world—but what happens when you ask him to be mean to you?
Pairing: dom!Osamu x sub!fem!reader
Words: 4.6k
Contains: soft! to mean!dom!Osamu, brat!reader, light breathplay, dumbification, dacryphilia, praise kink, degradation, oral sex (f!receiving), overstimulation, piv sex, ruined orgasm, desk sex, chair sex, roughness, spanking, mention of a safeword, little hint of size difference, O calls R “baby girl,” “baby,” “little girl,” “dumb girl,” “good girl,” yes this was a wild ride
Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked, Yachi’s version on ao3. Couldn’t decide if I wanted this to be x Yachi or x reader, so…I did both.
You’re pretty sure your boyfriend has a mean streak. He is Miya Atsumu’s twin brother, after all. They’re cut from the same cloth, mixed from the same pool of genes, but his temper is slower to rise than his brother’s. Even when he’s mad, he has a level of self-control unlike anyone else’s.
Instead of yelling at the toro supplier that’s actively trying to screw him over, he chokes down his words under a frustrated, throaty growl.
Instead of snapping at the customer trying to claim her food isn’t fresh, he smiles and offers a coupon while slicing a cucumber with so much force that the veins in his arm bulge.
Instead of putting Atsumu in his place before he starts getting annoying, your boyfriend just waits for his twin to make a fool of himself before calling him a few names that cut him straight to the core.
But, when you try to get him to be mean to you, all he does is raise his brow at you and pull you closer to his chest.
It’s hardly fair.
“You can have all the attention you want,” he chuckles every time you ask. Tucked in his lap, pressed up against his chest, the kindness in his words brings a pout to your lips. “I’ll spoil you until you cry—but baby, I can’t be mean to you.”
An idea forms while you’re waiting for Osamu to lock up the onigiri shop. Bored after finishing your last college class of the day, you’re just twiddling your thumbs while Osamu counts cash in his office.
The first thing he did when you emerged through the shop door was vent about his day. First, there were more customers than he planned for, each one more impatient than the last that their onigiri had to be made fresh instead of grab-and-go. Then, one of the cashiers forgot that they had a dentist appointment and had to leave in the middle of the lunch rush. And, topping it all off, it’s Friday, which means that he has to close out the week’s worth of cash, and he keeps coming up with a different total every time he counts the bills.
Osamu is stressed. You would like to help him fix that.
You perch on his desk chair—stolen from in front of his computer—in the middle of the kitchen. It gives you a perfect view of Osamu, standing in front of his desk, framed by the bright white molding surrounding the back office door. But also, it means that he’s far away—at least, far enough that he’s not in arm’s reach, and that just won’t do.
Normally, you’d get up and drag the chair into his office to lean against him, or even give yourself a power nap snuggled up in the corner, under the ultra-coze industrial heat vent. But this time, you have a plan.
“Osamu,” you call, “aren’t you done yet?”
He sighs. It’s not at you (he would never), but at the fact that he just got pulled out of counting again. He drops the bills on the desk, sighs a second time, and picks them back up to start over. “I’ll be ready to go in a minute.”
A small part of you feels bad for provoking him, but you’re so curious, so needy for a side of Osamu that you never get to see—that you keep up the pressure. You whine, draping your arms on the prep table in front of you and pressing your cheek against your bicep. This time, Osamu slams the bills down, all but crushing the stack of paper under his hand.
You imagine white-hot stings that turn to red marks, then pretty purple bruises. You think the sound of skin on skin would be much nicer than skin on paper, and the idea makes heat crawl up the back of your neck.
“For the love of,” your boyfriend says, starting to sound perturbed. “Baby, what?”
Honestly, how well this is going comes as a surprise. All you have to do is sniff, turn your nose up at Osamu’s baffled face, and give him your best pout, jutting your lip out so he can see the glimmer of saliva atop kissable skin.
You imagine him grabbing you by the back of your neck, forcing your lips open, and shoving his cock into your mouth to wipe the pout off your face. It’s a good thing the shop is chilly: you don’t have to hide the shiver that electrifies your core.
Then, you see him raise an eyebrow.
He holds up an arm, palm facing the ceiling, fingers outstretched. He’s so muscular, so invitingly warm in a dark blue t-shirt. It’s a soft one; it’s one of your favorites because of the color, the way it feels against your cheek, and the way it skims his arms.
Arms that can carry several restaurant-size bags of rice.
Arms that you wish were carrying you right now.
“C’mere.” His voice is like sugar. The sound of him beckoning you makes your face run hot, and you feel yourself almost giving in right then and there. He speaks gently, without judgment; like he understands you completely, like your acting up is a symptom, not a cause.
You don't expect punishment when he talks to you like this. So, you swallow, remembering what you set out to do. You fidget, knees knocking together, and find stability in gripping the cool metal of Onigiri Miya’s prep counter.
“No.”
Osamu looks at you like you just slapped him. His arm drops to his side while he, slack-jawed, tilts his head. “What did you just say?”
It’s a chance to change your mind, to whine and fall into your boyfriend’s loving arms so he can caress your cheeks and fuck the bad mood out of you. You could choose to let him spoil you with the attention you crave until you’re teary-eyed and babbling, giggling with the joy of having your needs answered with a loving touch.
But then, you see the tightness in Osamu’s jaw. Your legs feel hot.
“I said no,” you huff.
Osamu stares at you for a beat, studying you while the air in between you thickens, growing warm and sticky with tension. You try to hold still and steady so he doesn’t come to the conclusion that you don't really want this.
“Come over here and let me look at you.”
You sit still for a second too long, because he adds, “Now, baby.”
As soon as you’re within arm’s reach, he seizes you by the waist and yanks you into him. You stumble forward, crashing into his chest with a soft thump. With his free hand, he grabs your chin, balancing your face between his thumb and forefinger to force you to look at him. He licks his lips while he observes you, and you wriggles because he’s so close, his skin is so warm, you want his tongue on you—
He squeezes your hip hard enough to make you whine. “Stop.”
Osamu backs you up until your thighs brush against his desk. He nudges you, lowering his palm until he gets a stable grip to lift you onto its surface, now with stacks of bills tucked hastily back into the cash register drawer. “Are you going to tell me why you’re being such a brat?”
He strokes a thumb across your lower lip. Spurred on by your own tingling desire, you open your mouth to invite his finger in. When he presses his thumb down on your tongue, making you drool and whine against his finger, he sighs; it’s shuddering, a messy blend of disappointment, relief, and lust.
“Was this all you wanted, baby girl? My attention?” His soft tone draws you in. Your head tips forward until he catches you with his other hand, now stroking your cheek. He’s chuckling, now, and uses his hold on your mouth to make your nod. It’s a sign, symbolic of the fact that he always knows what you want, even if you don’t.
You whine around his thumb, and he instantly shushes you. Gently, so gently, too gently, he cradles your head and guides you to rest against his shoulder. His muscles betray him; though his voice and the touches he’s controlling are soft, the subconscious tension in his arms is tight like a loaded spring.
Releasing his thumb, you mumble, “Want you to be mean.”
He coos, tutting at you as if you’re a toddler demanding a unicorn for your birthday. “You know I can’t do that. Besides, I don’t think that’s what you actually want.”
You blink up at him, eyes already glassy. You see the face of a man in love and drunk on it; he smiles sweetly, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, but there’s something else. A flash of cruelty in his eyes, a tension in his neck.
“‘Mean’ means that I leave you like this,” he continues, nonchalant. “‘Mean’ means that I take you back to your dorm for you to take care of this all by yourself.”
He gives your cheek a squeeze, then slides his thumb right back into your mouth, hooking it inside your cheek. “You don’t want that, do you, baby?”
You were going to shake your head anyway, but he tilts his wrist to do it for you. Again, he chuckles, and your chest fills with warmth at the velvet sound of your boyfriend sounding so pleased. With every word, you feel fuzzier and softer, pliant to anything he says you want.
Then, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth, leaving a pout behind. He stoops a little, crouching closer to your eye level. “I’m gonna give you what you actually want, okay? Need a real answer out of you, with words.”
Fuzzy as you may feel, you’re still (reasonably) coherent. You want Osamu, want whatever he has in mind, want to feel the results of your behavior as deeply as he’ll give. You’re teetering on the edge of your (and his) favorite headspace, a few perfect touches away from being blissed out and subby, all for him.
“Okay,” you murmur.
“Okay, who?”
“Okay, sir.”
“And your safeword?”
“Onigiri.”
“That’s right,” he coos. “That’s my girl.”
Osamu looks like a man wrestling with himself. He strokes your hips with gentle hands, sliding his fingers up under your shirt. But his arms, big and broad, strain. You can count the veins bulging under his skin, see how tight his muscles are, and oh, what you would give to be wrapped up in those arms for the rest of your life.
“Hey,” he interrupts. You look up and see the eyes of a worried lover. “I’ll never hurt you in ways you don’t like. Tell me as soon as anything’s too much, and I’ll go softer, understand?”
You nod.
“Yes or no, baby girl?”
“Yes, sir,” you insist. You lean forward slightly, entranced by the stern look on his face. He is the picture of control, looking at you in a way that conveys the internal calculations going on in his head. You think you’d like to help him let go of that, do what feels right instead of what he thinks is right.
You reach for the collar of his shirt, entwining your fingers in the soft fabric and tugging. “Please fuck me, sir.”
A low sound, thick with want, vibrates out of his throat. Those words went right to his cock, intensifying the growing bulge between his legs. You’re certain it’s making it harder and harder (pun intended) for him to concentrate; good, you think.
“Sit tight for a second.” He pats your hips and presses a kiss to your forehead. The gesture lasts one, two, three seconds, during which you can’t breathe. When he steps away, he’s biting his lip, hiding a grin—and then he winks.
You do not hide your grin from him. Instead, you let the flutter in your stomach inspire your feet to swing from your perch on Osamu’s desk.
After just a few seconds, he’s in front of you again, this time with the desk chair. He doesn’t wheel it, no; he picks it up, making it look weightless, and it looks like he’s flexing his arms on purpose to make you giggle.
It works.
“Thank everythin’ you’re wearing a skirt.” He grins wildly while he, with one hand on your waist and the other hand tightly gripping your fingers, helps you off the desk. Sure, you could do it herself, they both know, but you’d both much rather let Osamu handle everything. Falling into him and surrendering to trust feels good, and who are you to deny things that make your body sing?
Osamu flips up the bottom of your skirt and pulls, just slightly, so it’s hiked up around the top of your thighs. He gives you a look, and you quickly nod, which leads to him sliding your panties down your legs. Then, he nudges you to sit, and cool faux leather meets bare, burning skin.
You sigh, closing your eyes to stop yourself from shaking with anticipation. “I did it on purpose.”
“Of course you did.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Falling to his knees at your feet, Osamu looks at you with love: nothing more, nothing less.
He lays kisses all over your legs. Starting playfully, dotting your shins and knees with little pecks that make you giggle, he ends up open-mouthed, sucking shades of mauve, raspberry, and plum into the soft, sweet skin of your thighs.
“So pretty for me,” he murmurs before kissing the juncture of your thigh and your hip. “You’re so beautiful. Like a work of art”
Then, his lips latch onto your clit, and he begins to suckle on your bundle of nerves like a man that hasn’t seen water for days, and a secret oasis resides between your legs.
Every time you moan, he sucks harder, creating a vicious cycle of action and reaction where his role and yours blur together. He makes you whimper with need, and he answers every one of your calls; he sets metaphorical fire to your trembling bud, and sounds of ecstasy erupt from your lips.
Frustratingly, his tongue doesn’t go near your folds, never strays from your clit, treats this like an appetizer before tasting the sweet, wet fruit of his labor.
And then, he leans back on his heels.
You gasp at the loss of contact. Cold, artificial air rushes your clit, feeling like ice against his left-behind saliva, and your wriggle against the chair, not sure if you want to be closer or farther away from him. “S-Samu—S-Sir!”
“That was mean,” he tells you. You know—your mind and body feel the realization with agony, his teasing slicing through you like a sharpened blade. His bait-and-switch is unfair, so unfair that the lonely ache in your pussy hurts, leaving you shuddering and weak in the knees while he looks at you with a patronizing stare.
Not one to torture you for long, though, he leans forward again, brushing his nose up against your sex. You whine, throwing your legs over his shoulders to pull him closer, closer, until his lips ghost along the slick edges of your core. He sighs, blowing warm air into you in a way that makes you keen.
You reach and grab a fist of his hair, at which he grunts; with trembling lips, you resign to begging, “Please, please, sir.”
You get the raised brow again, a little gesture that makes you want to throw yout head back and cry out in frustration. “Thought you wanted mean?”
“‘M sorry, sir, I-I—”
“That’s right,” he cuts you off in a tone that’s over-the-top condescending, hinting that he doesn’t really mean it. You recognize the sound of Osamu’s voice when he’s electric, on fire with adrenaline. Every word is laced with a wicked degree of lust that makes your heart pound, makes you struggle closer to him. “My girl’s too dumb to know what she wants.”
Osamu runs his hands up and down your legs, then he grips your knees, wrapping your thighs snugly around his broad shoulders. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, caring, and full of love, but his smirk mocks the way you’re falling apart in his hands. “‘S okay, though. That’s why I’m here. You need me to take care of you, don’t you, baby girl?”
You rush to agree, nodding as you sniffle and press one of your thighs closer to Osamu’s mouth. “I-I can’t…I need you, s-sir.”
“I know, baby; I know.” To soothe you—because he can’t help himself—he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, then bites down until you squeal. You, unaware of what your body is doing to him, reward him with a sudden tug to the fistful of his hair you’re holding onto for dear life. He lets you lead him even though he’s fully aware that you’re not coherent enough to realize it; when you pull, he presses his nose above your sex, grazing his teeth along the flesh of your mound until he reaches the top of your folds.
“Fuckin’ delicious,” he growls, right before he dives back in for seconds, tongue flat against your core.
He slides his tongue down from your clit to your weeping hole, dipping just the tip inside. For himself, he wants to savor your saccharine taste; for you, he wants to draw out your pleasure as long as possible, to hold you over the edge of bliss until you’re breathless because of him.
While he slides his tongue in and out of you, lapping from the bottom of your folds up to your clit, he swirls his tongue around your pert bundle of nerves, then angles his chin so his nose bumps against your clit with every downward stroke of his tongue. A waterfall of moans spills out of your lips, any word other than please completely forgotten from your vocabulary. He loves his girl, his polite baby, and as such, the ministrations of his tongue start to quicken, to become rushed and ragged because he, too, needs more.
Your vision starts to blur with pleasure, with tears. You’re close, so close, and you feel knots tying themselves in your stomach and your groin. Wordlessly, thrusting shallowly forward, you beg him not to pull away again; you were wrong, you want to cry, you don’t want him to be mean.
You chase the building high, follow the white hot light building in your vision all the way to your peak. Hips rocking forward, meeting his tongue with no rhythm whatsoever and knocking your clit against his teeth. Legs squeezing, pressing his warm cheeks into you until his 5 o’clock shadow scrapes angry marks into your thighs.
Right before your orgasm crashes over you, he pulls away again.
The sound you make is somewhere between a moan and a sob, and fat tears finally break free from your eyes as your blubber, choking and gasping on your ruined orgasm “N-No, sir, please.”
You don't get very long to cry, though, as he rushes to stand over you. His hands grab both of your cheeks and pull you into him, kissing you so deeply that your ability to think finally melts away completely. His tongue is in your mouth. You taste yourself on him: salty, sweet, musky. His fingers are as cold as ice against your burning skin, heat radiating from your cheeks, to your chest, to your stomach, to your groin. You fidget, but that makes him hold you tighter, pinning your soft cheeks between his calloused hands.
Whimpering, mewling against his lips, you paw at his chest. Broad muscle meets weak fingers, and you tug at the fabric in your way. You need him, need to feel him, need him to hold you now before all of your pieces fall apart.
Osamu pulls his tongue out of your mouth, but you’re too dazed to speak. He presses kisses down your throat, pausing only to suck on your collarbone while quick fingers make easy work of your sweater’s buttons. He glances up at you through half-lidded eyes, grinning as he presses feather-light kisses to the top of your chest. “What’re you crying for, pretty girl? This is what you asked for.”
You take a deep breath, arch your back, push your chest closer to his face. “P-Please, I want…”
When your voice falls off, too weak to finish your sentence, he gives you a fox-like grin. “You want?”
You whine, kicking your feet out behind him. One leg wraps around his waist, the other tangles behind his thigh. Your hands find stability in grabbing his forearms, and you fleetingly think that’s a mistake because he’s so strong and thick that your middle finger and thumb aren’t even close to touching.
“Good girls ask for what they want,” he breathes, letting go of one side of your face to brush his fingers down your throat. He admires you like a fine work of art, but there’s a determination in his touch. A plan, something he knows that you don't.
Asking for what you want is easier said than done when you’re fully clothed, let alone when you’re halfway to the best orgasm of your life. You know he just needs a few words, that you want to be good, and that he likes his good girl, but you struggle to breathe around the words while he, one-handed, unclasps your bra and starts caressing your breast.
“Did you hear me, baby?”
You blinked up at him, nodding feverishly.
He presses his thumb against the side of your neck. Your breach catches under the pad of his finger. “Then tell me what you want.”
His pace grinds to an almost total stop; just one hand keeps massaging your breast. You lick your lips, rock forward, and press your sticky forehead to Osamu’s arm. You sniffle, hot tears rolling off your cheek and into the crook of his elbow.
“I can’t,” you babble, barely louder than a whisper. “‘M sorry, I-I can’t.”
“Oh baby, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for being my dumb little girl.” At that, at the gentle tone he mocks you with, something snaps in your chest. You feel as if you needed to be broken apart to feel whole again; when your pride shatters, you cry more freely, face blotchy and wet with tears while you cling to Osamu for dear life. Underneath the cracked surface, though, you feel bright and new, shining bright from the trust you give him, and the safety he gives you in return.
Osamu pulls you up by your throat and you yelp, raising your head to stare at him with bleary eyes.
“You’re fucking perfect, just like this,” he assures you. Then, he kisses you slowly, loops his arms around you to make you turn around, then presses you face-first against his desk. You close your eyes and let out a shaky sigh; your knees tremble and your hands buzz, not quite feeling the desk’s smooth surface under the electricity coursing through your veins.
And then Osamu spanks you.
It’s just one slap, and you cry out more in surprise than out of pain. Heat rushes to your ass while you whine, feeling the impact turn into liquid arousal dripping between your slick folds.
“You liked that, didn’t you?”
You nod with all the vigor you can gather. To that, he spanks the other cheek.
“Yes or no, baby?”
“Yes, sir!” you blurt. You squeeze your eyes shut, ready, hoping for another impact that never comes. Instead, you hear a quiet, metallic clink, then ruffling fabric, then the sound of thin plastic tearing.
All signs point to being seconds away from getting your boyfriend’s cock, and your heart stutters with want.
He runs a hand up and down your spine, and you can’t help but note how heavy his grip feels, how he commands you with the lightest of touches. His other hand grabs your hip, holding you steady once he chooses the right position, lines himself up, and pushes into you with ease.
A throaty growl reaches your ears. You feel his day’s frustration melt away with every inch he stretches you open with, feel tension leave his body as soon as the tip of his cock brushes your cervix. All that’s left behind is his hunger, which he chases by picking up the pace as soon as he’s fully stuffed inside you.
Frustration is replaced with an insatiable desire that has him pounding you so hard that his thighs slap against the backs of yours, your ass slams into his hips, and you’re seeing stars. Your lips hang open while you gasp for air, and tears stream down your face, but your head spins, revolving around the bright moon that fills your sky: Osamu, Osamu, Osamu.
You aren’t sure just how many times he spanks you; you’re not counting beats to see if he’s keeping time with the unfair pace of his thrust. All you know is the feeling of clenching hard at every impact, making him groan every time his hand comes down on your ass, and you hear skin on skin, huffs of breath, and feral growls—all behind you.
Osamu.
“Too fucked out—shit—to think, huh baby girl?” He stutters through his words, barely able to form a complete thought of his own while he reaches forward, under your belly to find your clit from above.
As soon as he touches you, you choke on a sob. You register a few words in his voice, but you can’t tell if they’re real, or you’re imagining them.
“It’s—’s okay. I’ll think for ya.”
So fucking tight.
Is this what you wanted, baby?
Wanted to make—make me take out all my anger on you?
My perfect little f-fuckdoll.
Good—good girl. Good fucking girl.
Come, baby girl; come for me right now.
And, because Osamu knows what you want best of all, you do. You snap like a pair of chopsticks, splintering, messy, coming undone in a way that permanently changes your very structure. You feel different, made new, changed into something useful for him to satisfy his hunger.
Your orgasm ripples through you in waves that have you heaving. Warm skin, glassy eyes, wet cheeks, hips pressing back into Osamu to swallow him more. You clamp down on him hard, pussy spasming, sucking him dry, pulling an orgasm from him that has him draped over you: slick with sweat, biting down on your shoulder, hand tangled tightly with yours.
“Fuck,” he whines. Afterglow bubbles in your stomach, leaving you delirious and woozy; all you can do in response is whimper.
“‘Ve gotcha,” he slurs. After massaging his hands into your shoulders and down your sides, he winds his arms around your waist and hoists you up as if you weigh nothing. He balances your head on his shoulder and, in spite of his own wobbly, uneven gait, carries you to sit in his office chair, where you curl up in his lap.
“Sir,” you murmur, reaching to smooth your hands over his chest.
He catches one, presses a kiss to every finger, your palm, and your wrist. “You did so good, baby girl. ‘S over now—you’re safe.”
You bury your face in his neck, too tired to do anything else. But, you do have the fleeting thought that, with him, no matter what you beg him to do to you, “safe” is what you’ll always be.
#osamu smut#miya osamu smut#osamu x reader smut#osamu x you smut#haikyuu smut#haikyuu x reader smut#haikyuu x you smut#osamu x you#miya osamu x you#osamu x reader#miya osamu x reader#🌸— mine.#🌸— osamu.
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Osamu would Probably enter into a Marriage Pact
Miya Osamu would deadass be the guy that agrees to a marriage pact with his friend without thinking too much about it.
Like one day you come into the classroom and he's just chilling after morning practice, maybe eating his onigiri, and you pull up a chair and your phone because "Samu ya gotta see this!"
This being one of those articles that are a compilation of people talking about their marriage pact deals and how it's working well for them.
This guy, with a grain of rice on his cheek, will be like: "oh that's neat, wanna make one of our own?"
"Huh?"
"One of those marriage pacts yer so excited 'bout," he just looks at you with a face that you simply cannot decipher - because it's Osamu's usual face, "you and me, if we're not hitched by...say what age were they goin' for again? 30?"
"It depends, it was 35 in some of them," you fill him in.
"Nah, that's too long," he shakes his head, "if neither of us is hitched by the time we're 30, let's marry each other? Sound good?"
Sound good he says? You could only pray he'd stay single until he was 30. With how charming he was, there was no way he wouldn't be able to be married before 30. You on the other hand...yeah, you were confident in your ability to stay single.
"Ya sure about this?" You need to confirm.
"Yeah," he nods and extends a pinky out to you.
You can't help the wobbly smile as you curl your pinky around his, "sure-uh-deal."
"When we're 30, we'll be gettin' hitched," he stretches his arms, resting them behind his head and leaning back in his chair, and grinning at you.
"If we're both still single," you finish for him.
"Yeah," he hums, "now I don't gotta worry much 'bout it."
"I guess so?" You don't have much more to say, but thankfully you're saved by your teacher entering and the bell ringing, so you just take yourself to your seat, phone clutched tightly in your hand.
It sure was warm for a winter morning.
___
Tumblr MasterList
#osamu miya#miya osamu#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#osamu miya x reader#osamu miya x you#haikyu x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#inarizaki x reader#miya twins#haikyuu fanfiction
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Miya Osamu <3
“Samu…Samu…Don’t look directly, but I can see your doppelganger… just behind you.”
You and your sweet, loving, handsome, onigiri man of a boyfriend were on a night date in the street of Shibuya. Osamu was busy in choosing what to eat first, while you took pictures. Suddenly you saw Osamu’s clown toghether with a curly haired, bitch-faced man, an orange head and an owl faced beefy boy.
To say that you were shocked would be an understatement. A guy… or I should say Samu’s clown was chatting with his friends just few meters behind your boyfriend, only his hair's more blonde, and his vibe's more... clownish.
“Doppelganger ??? what do you even me-” “CAN’T YOU FUCKING WHISPER ?? AND DON’T LOOK LIKE THAT. BE MORE SUBTLE.” you whisper yelled.
Suddenly the doppelganger looked in your direction and frowned comically and advanced towards you.
“OH MY GOSH, SAMUUUU, HE'S COMING... HE'S COMING THIS WAY!”
Samu quickly looked into the direction, and unlike you he was frowning ??? similarly like his doppelganger ??? what the heck was going on. Was there some kind of invisible mirror thing that you couldn’t see.
Even the doppelganger's buddies seem cool, like they're in on the joke.
The doppelganger was now, standing in front of you and looking at your boyfriend, like he was communicating with his eyes. Before anyone could say anything…
“OMYGODOMYGODOMYGOD… CAN I TAKE A PICTURE WITH YOU SIR ????”
All eyes are on you, but who cares? It's not every day you meet your boyfriend's mirror image.
“Oh.. of course cutie, are you a fan ??”
“Well, I’m a human but I’ve never seen my boyfriend’s clown my entire life.” you giggled like a kid.
“DON’T DO THAT”. That ‘DOPPELGANGER’ yelled at your boyfriend.
“I’M NOT DOING ANYTHING.”
“YOU ARE MAKING GOO-GOO EYES AT HER. LIKE YOU MAKE AT FOOD.”
“I AM NOT.”
“YES YOU ARE”
All you could hear for next fifteen minutes was funny curse words and skin slapping sounds. Meanwhile, the curly-haired dude shoots you a concerned look.
“Ohhhh… so you are his big brother. Nice to meet you Tsum, I’m y/n, Samu’s s/o.”
Unlike your fictional brain, the ‘DOPPELGANGER’ turned out to be your boyfriend’s twin brother.
“Nice to meet you too y/n/n” Atsumu showed his signature smirk.
“IT’S MIYA TO YOU AND IT’S Y/L/N TO YOU.”
"WHAT THE HECK, BASTARD? AM I SOME GIRLFRIEND STEALER?"
"MORE LIKE AN UNINVITED DATE CRASHER."
"AT LEAST I'M EYE CANDY."
"YEAH, WELL, MOM LIKES ME MORE."
More insults fly, more slaps echo, and the furniture starts to question its life choices. Meeting your boyfriend's twin? Not too shabby after all.
Keys -
y/n - your name
s/o - sgnificant other
y/n/n - your nick name
y/l/n - your last name
Requests are open
#haikyuu#crack post#haikyuu imagines#drabble#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fic#haikyuu drabbles#hq#crack fic#miya osamu#miya atsumu#haikyuu miya osamu#haikyuu miya atsumu#hq miya atsumu#hq miya osamu#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#haikyuu x male reader#haikyuu incorrect quotes#haikyuu x female reader#miya osamu x reader#miya osamu x you#miya osamu x y/n#sakusa kiyoomi#haikyuu msby#msby atsumu#msby sakusa#haikyuu sakusa#hq sakusa
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