#osamu miya drabbles

[noritoshiikamo]

a part of touch starved osamu mess i just want to get out of my head

cw touch starved soft osamu, talk of boners, penetrative sex, dirty talk

osamu miya has few simple but sure set of obsession.

food, his restaurant, his family and every single fucking time he sees you play volleyball. you, a perfectionist, who likes to try and think you are able to hide your ‘workouts’ at home masking as self care didn’t realise that it was just feeding his kink.

if he could ever call it that.

it started monday morning, so simple and innocent as you stretching off your sleep by the bed side. his lazy eyes shot opened as it fell on your back. the defined muscles barely hidden by his old high school sleeveless jersey as you tried to shake off last night’s sleep. nuzzling into the pillow that smelled just like you, he watched as you tied your hair, yawned and leaned forward to stretch further. the bed hadn’t been the kindest on your back and that muffled crack of your joints had you moaning in relief. you turned around, half smile with a flush on your cheeks, “mornin’ baby,” your raspy sleepy voice greeted him like a cup of coffee on a rush hour. his heartbeat were a mess. you leaned to kiss his nose and left for the bathroom. it was baffling how oblivious his wife was to the nuisance she had imposed on him. he knew you were saying something but nothing registered in his head. it has to be a dud because boys’ scout could’ve camp in his short.

on wednesday, osame got the privilege to drop off some food for lunch. he didn’t planned to sponsor the entire’s team lunch, but you’ll always come home with a pout saying one of your teammates had gobbled half of it. happy wife is a happy life, so on this rare occasion, he had hauled his ass, drove an hour away with a trunk full of onigiri and some special bento for you. which also means, he got to see you train. he missed volleyball, maybe for the memories or the people he had play with, but an entire career of it was too handful. his face flushed, feet glued to the floor.

had the uniform always been this short?

the short hugged your ass so well that every time you lowered down to receive a serve, he wondered how the fuck is the material holding up. women’s volleyball had always had the sleeveless jersey but every time you jumped, it turned into a crop top. his mouth dried up as beads of sweat roll off your toned belly. he didn’t realised how long he had been standing there, trays of food in hand until somebody blew a whistle. your eyes finally met. it was pretty how easy you shook off all the ache in your muscle, glowing in happiness as your eyes set on him. you didn’t realised that he knew you too well like the back of his hand, the overwhelmed eyes you made was the same fucking look he craved every time he trapped you with his body down on the bed. samu, t’much, it echoed in his head. you licked your lips, a small smile on your face. osamu blushed. he knew it was for the food, but boy, the walk of shame he had to do down the hall with the food tray low to his waist down the cafeteria was hellish to bear.

saturday came like a breeze. it was your rest day because sunday is game day. osamu, like a perfect partner he is would always took the day off. what’s the point of paying his competent working extra on his day off if he is unable to spend some time with you. “y’kno, they call it a rest day because yer supposed ta rest,” he muttered, watching in annoyance as you unrolled the yoga mat in the living room. with the coffee table pushed aside and some old 90s sitcom rolling on the tv that you both had watched on repeat for the umpteenth time, you stick your tongue out, ignoring your whiny husband’s stare as he nursed his morning coffee.

“i’m just restless. so yoga helps.”

if it was years ago, he would’ve blamed it on atsumu for introducing it to you. but as he brought the cup up to his lips, his body tensed and the coffee started to taste a little bitter than it was supposed to be. because now atsumu is an annoyance for instigating the growing feeling he had as his wife pulled an upward dog. was it upward dog, whatever the fuck the position called but all he knew was his view was no longer the clean house he slaved his years to buy but his wife’s fleshy ass up in the air. his eyes followed like a hawk, from one position to another position. every time your eyes met, you flashed a smile, talking about something that he was sure wasn’t that significant. he promised, when he isn’t throbbing hard behind the kitchen counter, staining his boxer with his pre cum, osamu is a great listener.

he didn’t realise he had moved until you called his name. he was standing behind you, his hands were on your waist as he sort of pinned you down from moving. you were stuck in the position, bending forward palms flat on the floor, unable to lift your legs to complete the downward facing dog split.

“samu?”

his mouth dried up again. “y-your back wasn’t straight enough when you lift your leg. i’ll help.” you shrugged at his words, pleased that your husband wasn’t annoyed but keen to help. you raised your leg and it went up until you were able to support it by his shoulder. it was perfect until something clicked. you cursed.

“samu, you’re an asshole.”

his fingers reached for the elastic of your shorts. “straighten up, ya not holding yer posture correctly,” he muttered nonchalantly, a small spark of naughtiness glinted in his eyes as he pushed your back side lower until it was brushing against his growing bulge. “i would, if you’ll stop brushing your cock against me,” you hissed, watching as his short pooled along his ankles.

he hushed you, spitting lightly along his shaft, tugging lightly before running gently against your slit. you cursed again, bracing your palm against the floor as your arms trembled. the sound he was making wasn’t helping you as it went straight down to your aching cunt. osamu took his sweet time, with you trapped in the position, his other hand kneaded your ass, slowly rutting against your cunt. the friction from the thong and pooling wetness were driving him insane.

“tsumu said that the pose can build yer core strength,” he watched excitedly as your legs trembled every time his tip brushed against your clit, “just focus on ya hands and i’ll take care of the rest, ‘kay?”

the weak sigh and soft okay out of your lips were reassuring that osamu alone wasn’t the one having fun here. he loves it when you submit to his needs, even when it was ridiculous to bear. you always thought you married the sane one. the tv were now on the black screen, prompt of ‘are you still watching?’ appeared as his cock finally slipped in. he could see your twisted face on the reflective screen.

osamu is a sick person in mind.

he was sick for you and the way your cunt kept sucking him in drove him wild. this was his kind of yoga. his thrusts were erratic, your back flushed against his back. abandoned was whatever pose you had earlier, your back were straighter against his chest anyway. he held one of your legs up, spreading it enough to see the reflection of his cock jackhammering into your dripping cunt. another kept your head aside as his teeth marked your neck as his. “match t’morrow, hngh samu,” you gasped, hand up tugging on the hair on the back of his nape but it did nothing but tightened his lips against your skin that were bound to bruise. he released it with a pop, happy as he eyed the stained skin.

“so?”

“fuck you, samu.”

“right,” thrust, “back,” thrust, “at,” thrust, “ya.”

the sound of your skin slapping echoed the space, you could only whimper weakly as you surrendered to the pleasure, his pleasure. he couldn’t care less if you were trembling from high, gushing all over his cock as he powered through your orgasm. your tightened wall massaging his aching cock meant that he just had to fuck you faster and harder.

you cried in pleasure were louder, the neighbour should know his name by now.

he kissed you feverishly, lapping the marks and sweat agains your skin. nibbling on your lobe, licking beads of sweat and tears down your flushed cheeks. he knocking air out of your lung, you swore you could feel his thrusts up to your throat.

“s’good baby, fuck i could stay in yer cunt forever. why ya gotta be so fuckin’ perfect all the time. ya cunt is driving me crazy. fuck fuck, baby i wanna cum so badly. i wanna cum in you. baby ya think i can fuck ya t’morrow and ya do ya thing with cunny full of my cum. fuck baby, i wanna see my cum dripping down your legs.”

his lewd remarks kept on coming and all you could do is nod and beg because who doesn’t want a cunt full of osamu miya. every body does and here you are being the chosen one. osamu miya has few simple but sure set of obsession.

food, his restaurant, his family and every single fucking time he sees you play volleyball and your aching cunt begging for his release.

you heard the fabric of your bra ripped as he yanked it down, releasing the aching breast for his hand to grab a handful. his warm breath echoed against your cold skin, you listened to his pants, deep throaty moan as he chased his release. it was getting rougher, tip brushing against your cervix, beads of his own sweat rolling off onto your shoulder.

he whined, drool dripped over the corner of his lips, “baby.”

“fuck samu, inside please please,” you gasped, head thrown back. there were no reasoning when your husband had set his mind on one thing. he was close. his grip were tighter as if you were about to slip away, his whines were louder and his thrust weren’t easing. you couldn’t help the scream your throat let out as he cum, he was pressed down and tight against your cervix. his thrust were slower, yet sheathed deep longer. he wanted all of him in you. you were going to keep his cum inside.

his praises didn’t fall short. he showered you with kisses, telling you how much a good girl you were and how well you were taking him in. you could feel him in the shape of the bulge against your stomach. once he was down from the high, he set you down slowly on the floor, you rested your chest against his as you both tried to catch a breather.

he finally kiss you on the mouth, gently this time, caressing your cheeks and hair away from your face. in the heat of moment, saturday morning became your favourite day of the week as his lips moved to tell you how much he loved you between the kiss. you reciprocated happily, watching his soft eyes glistened in excitement and content.

the sun’s now up, warming the room, bouncing against his skin so majestically. somehow the tv had resume the show and the miya household were buzzing again. time always stop when you’re with him. you brushed his hair off his sweaty forehead. his eyes were full of love yet he always like to ruin the moment with being an ass.

“fuck, we should do yoga more,” he grinned, planting a kiss on your own forehead as you struggled to catch your breath. your mat were a soaking mess, sticking down against your bare skin as you watched the happy man wobbled happily to the kitchen with his dick swinging, staring into the fridge for some snacks.

in sickness and health, you vowed, smile on your lips grew as you laid down.

that’s your beloved husband.

sunday came like a breeze. it took a lot of running around the house and screaming as osamu chased you down bare naked, threatening to keep his promise. but you countered his threat, holding his phone with finger on speed dial he knew were gonna bring a bigger wrath down to the mankind; mama miya.

you got him out of the house, unscathed with your lover boy pouting all the way to your match.

“ya promise,” he huffed, locking the door every time you tried to escape.

your giggles echoed the car as you nodded. you leaned against him, planting a small innocent kiss against his lobe. the boy froze. “yes, samu. i’ll promise if you keep it,” your hand went down to grab the surprisingly half hard cock through his jeans, “in ya pants, i promise you, i’m all yours this week.”

his brows shot up, “anywhere?”

“anywhere, everywhere.”

“even if in at the shop?”

you tugged his ears playfully, “geez samu, as if we haven’t violated the health code of conduct the first month we got the shop set up.” you walked out together, your bag slung over his shoulder as you laced your fingers together. “on my defense, ya just started the pills and i was popping my raw dogging virginity and ya kept wearing that stupid legging that was so sheer i could see ya panties. no, half of the time ya weren’t even wearing one. you seduced me. case closed.”

you stopped right by the entrance for players only. echoes of shoes and balls bouncing, crowd cheering were getting louder and louder. this is where you had to part ways. osamu looked down on you longingly. “i’m not complaining by the way,” he pulled you closer, “don’t stop seducing me, ‘kay?” he whispered, brushing your nose against his own. you pushed his cap off, nodding happily as you shared a kiss. his onigiri miya cap sat against your head backward. the bag exchanged hands. he fixed your collar, your body ached every time his fingers brushed the bruise he left between the neck and your shoulder.

that’s the setter he fallen head over heels for.

“okay, samu. don’t let omi knows that we fucked on his favourite chair at the shop, i don’t think tsumu could hold him down. i’m too pretty to be a widow.” he mouthed a silent okay before leaning down for one more kiss, for good luck, he would said but no more words needed to be said. he flicked your forehead playfully before pulling away, heading to the entrance to meet up with your family and his brother.

“fuck them up, y/n.”

“i always do.”

© all content belongs to noritoshiikamo. do not modify or repost

#writing: thirsts #writing: hq #osamu miya drabbles #osamu miya x y/n smut #osamu miya smut #osamu miya x y/n #osamu miya x you #osamu miya x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x y/n smut #haikyuu drabble #haikyu smut #haikyu x y/n smut #hq imagines #hq x reader #hq x y/n

[atsuwumus]

Hello!!

Osamu Miya for the meet cute ask game? Thank youuu <3

💌 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 . . . in a pastry shop. All week you've been battling a sweet tooth craving that wouldn't leave you alone. And on a chilly Friday morning you finally cave. With snowflakes fluttering to the ground in gentle dances you shuffle inside the café, one tucked away in the corner of your street, the only place with a reputable reputation for making something sweet and filling.

There are two half tired baristas on shift today and you step up to the open counter, ready to order the fresh dorayaki you saw in the shop window. But the moment those string of words leave your lips you hear it being echoed back to you from the silhouette of the man standing next to you in line.

"I'm sorry but the dorayaki has been sold out today, there's only one serving left," the cashier mumbles, tilting her head to the man standing beside you at the other till.

He seemed to have noticed the little predicament, raising one of his brows before he says to the cashier, "We'll take that one to share, thank you."

Bold, you can't help but think. But sharing it is at least better than not having any at all.

When you fish out your wallet to pay the man gently nudges your hand out of the way, stepping in front of you to pay. You want to blame the erratic pitter patter of your heart on the cold weather but his presence is warm and inviting — he faintly smells like onigiri.

"Thank you, by the way," you call after him softly as he makes his way over to a wooden table tucked away in the corner, one closest to the fireplace that crackles with a cozy invitation to come closer.

He smiles softly, a kind tug of his lips and bows his head as you gingerly sit down across from him. "Don't mention it."

"I'll have to pay you back somehow," you insist.

He ponders it for a moment before he says, "Come visit me at Onigiri Miya someday. I guarantee I'll satisfy your tastebuds far better than this place."

#thank you so much for requesting my love <333 #💌.meetcute #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x y/n #osamu miya x you #osamu miya fluff #osamu miya drabbles #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles

[oksullen]

25, 57 Matsukawa or Osamu

“it hurts…” “what?” “loving someone who doesn’t love you…” with - Osamu Miya, time-skip word count - 386 cw - angst

you sat at one of the tables in Osamu's restaurant. you waited for him to close. you two had always been dating since high-school. you scrolled aimlessly on your phone, tired as you could be. you felt a strong hand on your back. you looked over your shoulder, seeing Osamu. you smiled at him, earning a smile back. "hey." he said softly. "sorry I took a while." he laughed.

you laughed back. "it's alright. I know you're busy." you faked a look, not wanting him to know you miss him.

he smiled weakly. you could tell he was tired. he sighed, sitting down at the table across from. he instantly got on his phone, doing who knows what. you scoffed, hoping he would hear you.

he didn't. you sighed, laying your head on the table. you weren't sure how long you were like that, your boyfriend not bothering to ask what was wrong. when you did eventually look up he was gone. you instantly panicked, looking around. you frowned, not being able to find him.

you stood up, calling his name. "Osamu?" you shout out. "Osamu, where are you?" you frowned. "Babe?"

you gave up on trying to call for him, sitting back down. you bit your lip trying to hold back your tears. you couldn't remember the last time he made time for you. you didn't remember the last time he said "i love you", and with that thought you burst into tears.

it didn't take long for him to come back, exiting the kitchen. "what's wrong?" he asked, walking over to you. he just stood there, not knowing really what to do. “it hurts…” you mumbled

“what?” he asked, not sounding to curious.

“loving someone who doesn’t love you…” you hesitate to say it but you were tired. "it seems you never have time for me, even when you do." you sobbed. "Osamu I don't remember the last time you said I love you-" you hid your face, not wanting him to see your tears.

he stood there, not saying anything. he was in shock. was he really being neglectful?

you stood up, wiping your tears. "it doesn't even feel like we're dating anymore.." you grabbed your things and headed for the door.

you paused, hoping he would say something.

he didn't.

send me a prompt <3 og post here

#kale writes #anime #haikyuu #haikyu!! #haikyuu!! #haikyu #haikyu! #haikyuu x reader #kale games #osamu x reader #osamu miya #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya drabbles

[kitashousewife]

“sorry ‘samu, i hadn’t gotten to those yet,” you sigh, looking at the now folded stacks of his clean laundry you had placed on the bed.

“why are ya apologizing?” he waves you off. he’s working on his socks now, pairing them up one by one. you decide to join them, and he throws a bundle at you. “these are mine anyway. i don’t mind foldin’, baby.”

you can’t help but smile.

“i’m serious though, i was going to do them,”

he shakes his head and snorts. putting the clothes away, he smirks over his shoulder.

“yer my wife, not my ma,” he shuts the dresser one last time, shuffling over to plant a kiss on your head. “we help each other. ya ain’t doin it all alone.”

#osamu x reader #osamu x reader fluff #osamu drabble #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader

[sunaluv]

more "come get your man"❗❗ with some more haikyuu boys maybe but honestly? whoever you want 🙏

i got u 😉

part 1 here

pairings: osamu, atsumu, kuroo

OSAMU

onigiri miya was due to close in the next two minutes. you watched your boyfriend close up the counter from your spot on the stool. you liked sitting in when his shop was empty like this, it felt kinda…domestic.

it triggered your thoughts on the future with the hotter twin (in your opinion), you could see yourself walking down the alter to meet him, eating on the floors of your unfurnished home, him standing behind you whilst you rocked your child to sleep—

“hey samu what should i do with these!” you almost rolled your eyes at the voice shouting from the kitchen.

osamu had explained to you how he hired one of his friends from high school to work for him as a favour. she had just finished getting her degree and was looking for work in the area.

you didn’t mind, you were secure in your relationship so there was no reason to be pissed. that was until you had met her and introduced yourself to her as his girlfriend. like a switch had flipped, she instantly started to openly show her hatred for you behind sugar coated insults and not so subtle faces she made only when your boyfriend was out of sight.

you watched osamu’s chest expand in a deep breath. he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair before flipping his cap back on, pecking your temple before heading to the back. “i’ll go see what she wants then we’ll leave, ‘kay?”

you nodded and packed your bag, leaving your space clear and waiting by the counter for your man.

a whole five minutes had passed. you haven’t heard anything which was a sign that you should go investigate, given that girls record.

“…i thought we had a rule for customers showing up before closing time.” a hushed voice whispered.

“we do, there’s no customers here.”

“so who’s still sat out front, you always do this sam—”

ahem.

two faces looked to your spot at the door opening. one looking guilty, one relieved.

“you ready to go samu?” you asked sweetly. “it’s been five minutes and it’s movie night, you know i’m dying to catch up on our franchise.” you not so subtly bragged.

he breathed out through a chuckle. “of course baby, sorry for the hold up. i’m done here anyways.” he walked towards you, missing the dropped jaw of his employee.

you wrapped your arm around his waist before you left, not before smirking at the red-faced girl who was shaking in anger? sadness? embarrassment? you didn’t care.

your shoulders dropped at the chime of the bell followed by the nights breeze as you began your comfortably silent walk home.

“you’re cute when you stake your claim on me ya know?” osamu flicked your forehead.

“shaddap.” you retorted. “if she doesn’t understand boundaries i’ll set them.”

ATSUMU

atsumu was a textbook example of a frat boy. the parties, the girls, the popularity, the girls.

the only stereotype he’s not playing into is dating the leader of the girls sorority house, and some people felt like he’s doing it all wrong.

“omg hi! welcome to—” the cheery voice dripped upon seeing you at the door. “the boys house, who do you know here?”

the girl you recognised as the sorority house leader shamelessly eyes you up and down, twirling the ends of her blonde hair.

if she was here, the rest of the girls were too. they did everything as a culty pack: traveling, partying and even dating. you always thought it was weird how they were all paired with a frat boy, but you never said anything. maybe to them at least.

they obviously hated you for being a rock in their river.

“i’m here for atsumu,” your brow quirked.

her face hardened before plastering into a plastic smile.

“sorry ya just missed him! maybe if you go to—”

“BABY IS THAT YOU!?” a loud, excited voice belonging to your boyfriend shouted.

looking over her shoulder, you watched his blonde locks fly with the wind as he shoved past the girl who let out a disheartened gasp, and picked you up before picking you up and twirling you around.

“i missed you so much,” his soft lips continuously pressed against your face before pouring all his emotion into one last kiss on your lips.

“i missed you too tsum,” you giggled “i was only gone a week though.”

“a week to long! come i have so much to catch you up on.”

again ignoring the fuming girl who had watched the whole interaction, he damn near dragged you up the stairs past all his frat bros who you made sure to shout a greeting at as you passed.

you could hear the rest of the girls from the sorority comforting the girl who was now crying, talkin bout ‘he’ll come around, you two are destined to be together. but you didn’t care, you knew atsumu knew about his rep as a frat bro and he has explained to you about how much he doesn’t care about the ‘dumb stereotypes’ and ‘he likes what he likes, and thats you’.

“you know she likes you right?”

“does she, i thought the only reason she wants me that bad is so their matchup can be completed…”

“that’s part of it, but i feel like she genuinely likes you…” you trailed.

“hey, hey,” he held your cheeks tuning your focus on him. “i don’t care about all that okay? i’m yours and yours alone”

you nodded, placing your hands over his.

“now,” he pulled out his phone going straight to the photos app “let me show ya all you’ve missed.”

KUROO

“tetsuro stopppp,” the girl who had been partnered with your boyfriend for a science project whacked his arm playfully. “omg girl tell your boyfriend to stop.”

you looked at her, then him, then back at her. “stop being a bitch tetsuro.” you played into her antics, drawing out his name like she did.

“not like that, you don’t need to be mean. it was literally a joke.” she mumbled.

kuroo’s eyes met your rolling ones across the table as he shrugged.

“so what are you guys doing after this,” she asked the both of you, but stared at kuroo.

you had explained how you were going to the mall after, so they should probably finish up so you can make it soon.

“you’re going on a date? that’s so cuuuute, there’s actually this really cute place we saw together when—”

“i’ll be right back. toilet.” kuroo stated tensely, sending you an apologetic look as he saw your panicked expression. the both of you knew what her intentions were.

she watched him leave, all the way until the toilet door closed then she turned to you. “can i be real with you a sec, have a heart to heart you know as a fellow sister.”

she didn’t let you respond before she spoke out. “i highkey think tetsu deserves better, he seems really tense around you and i know your dating or whatever but i feel like i could treat him better. i know him.”

woahwoahwoahwhat.

“no.”

“no?”

“no!” you took a deep breath in, before calling her name. “i know you like him, you haven’t even respected me or him enough to hide it. but if you really loved him or knew him, you would know how uncomfortable he feels with you openly flirting with him while he’s in a committed relationship.”

your words hit her like a truck. “you’re not listening to me,” she reached for your hands across the table which you retracted before she could reach. “he needs someone like me, i’m not trying to diss you but you dress kinda bland, your not in many classes together, he doesn’t even talk about you all that often.”

“i do when you overstep, but otherwise i’m just trying to do my work and leave.”

she turned around to see her dear tetsu, arms folded, hurt look on his face. you knew he didn’t like confrontation, so he must have been feeling a strong type of way for him to talk like this.

“tetsu—”

“kuroo.”

“tetsuro,” she stood up placing an arm on his arm which made him step back. “please just come to me, you know we’ll be good together too…”

noticing your boyfriends drastically increased discomfort, you stepped in. “i think you’ve done enough,” you put yourself between the two of them.

wordlessly, you took his larger hand in yours and left the library. after checking up on him, the two of you decided to have a home date instead.

“thanks for stepping in by the way” his voice came out small.

you squeezed his hand. “anything for you tetsu”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! #hq drabbles #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu fic #atsumu fluff #atsumu x you #osamu x y/n #osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo angst #kuroo tetsuro x you

[heich0e]

“Miya-san!”

Osamu’s head swivels towards the sound, and he spots you right away even though you weren't the one who called for him.

You’re a few metres down the road, sitting on a bench in front of a bustling restaurant, slumped over onto the shoulder of your junior who seems to be doing everything he can to keep your head tipped up against his arm. Kimura, the name Osamu had once been introduced to him as at one of the events your company held, has blushy cheeks when the older man approaches—he seems flushed due both to being flustered and a little tipsy, and the knot of his tie is loosened at the base of his throat.

“Kimura-kun,” Osamu greets him with a dip of his head as he approaches, his eyes scanning your seemingly sleeping face. “She asleep?”

“No,” you slur in reply, but your eyes stay closed. Osamu’s not certain it’s the truth, and even less certain you realize he’s the one who said it.

“I-it’s all my fault,” Kimura squeaks, looking increasingly like he might burst into tears. “They were trying to make me drink more, but Senpai kept switching out our glasses when the other section leads weren’t looking.”

“Yeah, that sounds like somethin’ she’d do,” Osamu replies with a fond but exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry for contacting you so late,” Kimura says, flinching as you slump away from him unexpectedly in your drunken stupor. Osamu is quicker to react than the younger man, stepping in and catching you in the crook of his elbow before you can go toppling off the bench onto the sidewalk. He keeps you steady.

“Don’t apologize, I appreciate ya callin’ me to come get her—and thanks fer lookin’ after her,” he says down to the younger man, who seems relieved now not to be responsible for keeping you upright. “Tell her to bring ya by the shop for a meal sometime as payback. She owes ya one.”

Kimura’s eyes widen and he shakes his head like he couldn’t possibly accept, but before he can decline the offer Osamu turns his attention back to you. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he gently pries you from your seat.

“Up ya go,” he mutters encouragingly as he eases you onto your feet.

Your eyes flutter slowly open, looking around blearily for a moment as you take in your surroundings.

“Samu?” you ask, his name slurred on your alcohol loosened tongue. You perk up noticeably in his arms once you realize just who’s holding you. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take ya home, Cinderella,” he says with a light laugh as your fingers twist into the material of his sweatshirt against his chest. He looks to Kimura again, who’s also risen to his feet now. “We’ll be off, then.”

“Thank you, Miya-san!” Kimura bows deeply forward, a nearly perfect 45 degree angle at his waist.

He’s a sweet kid, Osamu can’t help but think, even if does follow you around like a puppy.

Osamu helps you down the sidewalk towards his waiting truck, then up into your seat on the passenger’s side. He makes quick work of buckling you into your seatbelt even as you squirm counterproductively, then he jogs swiftly around to his own side of the truck and climbs in behind the wheel.

Kimura waves from outside the restaurant as the truck pulls away.

“Seems like ya had fun tonight,” Osamu remarks as he drives in the direction of your home. You hadn't even wanted to attend this work gathering, but had been forced to by your director. Now look where it had gotten you.

You’re fiddling with the controls of the radio, stations crackling in and out as you switch rapidly through the channels. 

“Drank too much,” you complain, settling on a talk radio station (of all things) that seems to be midway through discussing prefectural bylaws.

“Don’t I know it,” Osamu quips in reply and you swat at him harmlessly over the centre console with a laugh.

You’re turned in your seat, your body facing in his direction, watching him as he keeps his eyes on the road. He can feel your gaze tracing over him, but doesn’t glance back.

“Hey,” you whisper, something conspiratorial in your tone. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure thing,” he plays along with your antics, fighting back a grin.

It’s silent for a moment—only the voices on the radio discussing trash collection to be heard. Osamu pulls up to a red light, and finally looks over to meet your gaze.

Your eyes are glassy and a bit unfocused, but they’re bright with affection.

“I have a crush on you,” you tell him with a giggle.

Osamu’s chest pangs.

The light turns green.

“Well,” he remarks, returning his gaze to the road ahead and proceeding through the intersection. “That’s good.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees your shoulders slump dejectedly. 

“I’m being rejected,” your next words are positively morose. You turn away from him and lean your body over to the side. He hears a loud thump as your forehead head hits window on your right.

“Hey!” Osamu chides you in concern, reaching out and grabbing the collar of your blouse to tug you up a little straighter. It’s not the most elegant motion by any means, but he’s fairly limited with his other hand on the wheel and his eyes still on the road.

“Owww,” you complain, rubbing your forehead weakly. You bat the hand he has clutching the collar of your shirt away. “You’re so mean.”

“How’m I mean?” Osamu guffaws beside you.

“I just confessed my love for you, and all you had to say is ‘that’s good’!” You turn your body in your seat to waggle an unsteady but judgemental finger at him. “A woman’s heart is a precious, fragile thing, y’know!”

“There’s nothin’ fragile about ya,” Osamu mutters under his breath, thinking about how much you had to drink that night as a prime example of this fact. “Yer tough as a brick wall.”

“Mean!” you jeer at him again, your mouth agape in the wake of his words.

Osamu flicks his turn indicator on before he pulls his truck over to the curb, putting it into park. You’ve stopped outside a convenience store, and when he turns to look at you, the fluorescents from inside the shop bathe you in a backlit halo where you sit in the passenger seat.

He grabs your hand. The one you still have lifted to point at him.

“D’ya see this?” he asks, holding your hand up in front of your face. The ring on your fourth finger catches in the glow of the convenience store lights.

Your eyes widen.

Osamu holds up his left hand where there’s a ring that matches your own.

“I said it’s good y’got a crush on me ‘cause we’re married, dummy.”

Your lips form a surprised little ‘o’ as your eyes flicker rapidly from the band on your finger to his own and back again. 

After a moment you grin, your eyes squeezing shut with how high your cheeks lift. “What a relief!”

Osamu is quick inside the store, just popping in to buy a vitamin drink for you and a pack of cigarettes for himself. He doesn’t smoke as much these days—you’d nag him incessantly if he did—but every so often he gets a craving, and tonight is one of those instances. 

The two of you sit side by side on the curb in front of the shop, the truck parked a little ways down the road. 

Osamu takes a drag of his cigarette, sighing in contentment with wispy plumes of smoke slipping from his lips. He peeks over at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Ya feelin’ better?” he asks.

You’ve got the little bottle of vitamin drink cradled in your hands, working your way through it slowly. You hate the taste of them, he knows that, but you’d regret it more tomorrow morning if you didn’t force it down tonight. You nod a bit, and seem to have sobered up in the time since Osamu arrived to take you home.

“This reminds me of when we first started datin’” Osamu laughs to himself. And he means it. Everything about it. Being out so late. The taste of the tobacco on his tongue. The way you keep creeping a little bit closer to him unconsciously, as though his space isn’t already yours to freely take. “I can’t believe ya forgot we’re married.”

You groan in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

He bites back a grin, trying not to revel too much in your misery.

“And I’m sorry I made you come pick me up,” you mumble after a moment, taking another sip from the little bottle in your hand and wincing against the bitterness. “I planned to just take a cab.”

“It was that little junior of yours who contacted me,” Osamu laughs, lifting the cigarette to his lips and holding it there while he rifles in his pocket for his phone. He holds the device out so you can see the conversation where your subordinate had commandeered your phone, remorsefully messaging Osamu asking him to come and collect you from the bar. He’d even used a funny little sticker of a bunny with tears in his eyes bowing apologetically—it bears a striking resemblance to Kimura himself. 

“That kid,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly as you rub your temple. Your eyes suddenly widen and your face snaps towards your husband. “Wh—“

“Tsumu’s there watchin’ ‘em,” Osamu laughs, reaching up and plopping a hand down atop your head. “Not that there’s much to watch since they’re in bed. He was still at the house when Kimura-kun messaged me.”

You lean into Osamu's touch as you think of your twins at home, tucked up in the little bed they share, and it makes your heart ache a little bit. You wonder if you’ll be able to creep in and give them a kiss goodnight when you get home without waking them. 

You go terribly quiet for a moment, and Osamu finishes his cigarette. He stamps it out on the curb beside him and then slips the extinguished stub back into the pack to throw into an ashtray later.

“Samu?” you call to him, your voice quiet.

He glances over at you, and sees the way you’ve wrapped your arms around your knees. The anxious posture worries him.

“I didn’t forget you, I promise,” you whisper. “It’s just… sometimes I think this is all too good to be true.”

Your husband watches as you admire the ring on your finger that reflects the streetlight overhead.

Osamu smiles to himself, scooting closer to you on the curb.

“I know,” he reassures you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. Your head naturally falls to his shoulder. Familiar and instinctive. “I was just teasin’ ya.”

You smell like alcohol. He’s sure he smells like cigarettes. You're in rumpled business casual, and he's dressed in the sweats he planned to wear to sleep. He reaches over and takes your left hand in his own—your wedding rings overlapping. And for a moment, in spite of all the ways the two of you have changed over the years and all the ways that life is different now, everything is exactly how it’s always been.

He tilts his face and presses a lingering kiss to your temple.

‘I’ve got a crush on ya too, by the way.”

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #hq drabble #hq writing #writing #tw alcohol #tw smoking #tw parenthood

[lunamochii]

you're the blue text ; they're the gray/grey text

bokuto, atsumu, osamu, kuroo, oikawa, suna, sugawara, sachiro

#hq imagines #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq smut #hq #hq smau #hq suna #hq drabble #hq sachiro #hq sakusa #hq fanfic #hq drabbles #hq fic #haikyuu bu #haikyuu bokuto #haikyu hinata #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyu smut #haikyuu sakusa #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu blurbs #haikyuu kuroo #sugawara koushi #kuroo testuro #bokuto x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya twins

[saintpavlov]

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

[noritoshiikamo]

cw touched starved osamu (sort of), female receiving, mention of overstimulating, intercourse and osamus boner

your face would almost always flushed every time the question was brought up. it almost bound to happen even if you’re just a girlfriend to his less famous twin brother. you are not that big as well, except you are the country’s primary setter. but the question would not stop comming.

“why miya osamu, not atsumu?”

you could think of all the reason in the world. he’s a better cook, kept the house clean and the fridge full, he’s a wing spiker and good one as well, even after years of quitting. that’s always a win to you, you always have someone to set to on the winter break– he made your moves perfect down to the tee. he’s a mommy boy, never need to be told what to do or how to do; he just knew you like the back of his hand.

hand, your cheeks warmed up.

his hand– you don’t know where to start.

he has a thing or a need; he loves the littlest of your skin to be touching him. holding hands while he drives, brushing against the littlest skin showing off your waist while you sleepily try to make the coffee machine in the morning work, brushing strays off your cheeks as you took him out to the team’s event. he looks cold, shy but with you, once the smirk grew on his face, you could never wipe it away.

you’re always at his mercy when his lips landed against the skin where your shoulder and your neck met, sending jolts down your spine. he likes to trick you; intertwining your hands together only to pin it up so he had the whole access to your body. his eyes roaming undressing you with his bored grey eyes before his hands does. he plays dirty, lips against your neck sucking hard you swore it would break. warning you to always keep your eyes on him as he eats you out, or he will make sure that all eyes are on you when you go to training neck full of his bruises.

“you can do it,” he hummed again your clit, feigning support.

you would rather die that hold his gaze as he ravished you like his last meal. hoarse tongue along the lips before sucking on your bud. trained you to take four at least until all you can do is dug your heels deep in the bed with tears down your cheeks. he loves the pleas, the way his name only comes out as osa, choking on your own moans and spit. he didn’t get why you always fight against him. he just wants to make you cum. your stamina is nothing against his own, he will flick his tongue against your clit for hours if god let him be. until you were so exhausted that when he pushed his cock inside you there was just a weak soft sigh of pleasure out of your lips.

he loves all the pretty sounds you made. you were never loud, always so polite with the pleases and yeses. you never had to do anything but be his pretty pillow princess, writhing underneath him as he sheathed himself so deep it bruised your cervix. when nothing comes but some gargling, choking noise, he’ll take pity, speeding up until all was left in the room was the sound of his skin slapping against yours and your whimpers. he’s so polite he will make sure you’ll come first before him, multiple of time.

“he’s prettier, i guess,” you forced a smile, hopping that the camera wouldn’t intensified how flushed your cheeks were. you felt wet, not by just the thoughts but you could feel the cum he had carefully mentioned to keep it all in starting to seep out. he would be watching, happily tending to his small shop with this interview in the background and an ego as big as his brother. would it be that bad, you wondered, thinking of how nice would tonight be when you return home. a smile on his face as osamu tended to his cup of tea with a growing erection hidden behind the counter ready to fill you up again. there’s my good little girl, even as a thought, he could make you shivered.

oh, you can’t just wait to go home.

© all content belongs to noritoshiikamo. do not modify or repost

#so basically i got covid so im not allowed to go to work #ive been thinking about osamu so unhealthily someone jail me #writing: thirsts #osamu miya smut #osamu miya x y/n #osamu miya x you #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya drabbles #haikyuu smut #haikyuu drabble #hq x reader #hq imagines #writing: hq #touch starved osamu

[slut4msby]

first kiss. miya osamu x reader

+ tags & warnings; not proofread & v rushed </3 also like quiet a lot of swearing (mainly just the use of the word 'shit')

+ a/n; day 6/7!! one more day to go before i go take a LONGGGG nap (i wish :<) but yeah this isn't the best written but here u go bc im on my osamu shit atm <3

“So you’re seriously telling me, THE Miya Osamu has never kissed anyone?” You teased the now embarrassed dark harder boy. “Like THE Miya Osamu, like brother to like the schools biggest flirt Miya Atsumu? What’s next your brother hasn’t either? I always knew the Miya twins were FULL of surprises but this, THIS is new.”

“Ew, I don’t wanna know who my brother is kissing and shit.” He said defensively.

“Why?” You questioned.

“Whaddya mean why? Because it’s weird he is like my brother I don’t wanna know what girls he’s snogging and sh-”

“No, I mean like why haven’t ya kissed anyone ‘Samu?” You cut his ramble off, “like I’m sure there's plenty of girls willing to, you have just as many fangirls as Atsumu, just his are louder and more annoying. And apart from that there’s no denying you're an attractive man. I mean you take care of yourself as well.”

“I-I don’t know, Y/N. What I do know is I don’t wanna kiss some fangirl or some shit, I want it to be with someone I care about I guess.”

“Awww 'Samu, that's so cute.” You gushed at his response.

“Shut it, Y/N.” 

As the conversation comes to halt the school bell rings, ending your first break of the day. “I’ll see ya later, ‘Samu. You smile walking down the hall to your class. You sit in your seat next to Osamu’s twin brother, Atsumu.

“Hey, Y/N-chan~” He says as you sit down.

“Hey ‘Tsumu? Ya know ‘Samu has never kissed anyone, like isn’t that just kinda bizarre. Like he’s funny, a good cook, handsome, good at sport ya know what more could a girl want? Like I know he’s seen women and shit but I dunno it’s just weird, I kinda feel bad.” You say towards Atsumu.

“If ya care so much Y/N, why don’t you just kiss him or something? I’m sure that’d shut him up. Ya both never shut up about each other, it’s kinda annoying.” 

“He talks about me?!” You say with a pink stain spreading across your face.

“Did ya hear what Y/N-chan said earlier, did you see Y/N-chan today, I think I’m gonna bring Y/N-chan some food tomorrow, Y/N-chan this, Y/N- chan that and every time I tell him to shut his trap.” Atsumu sighed, placing his head in his hands, “and yer not any better Y/N.”

“I don’t talk about him that much.” You say crossing your arms, frowning at Atsumu. Atsumu just rolled his eyes in response. Not long after your teacher began teaching her lesson, you couldn’t stop thinking about the twins' words. “If ya care so much Y/N, why don’t you just kiss him”  “to be with someone I care about I guess” “Ya both never shut up about each other”. There was certainly no denying your attraction to the silver haired twin. But in your years of knowing him, neither of you showed any romantic interest in each other. You had both seen a range of people, every breakup the same. Ending with one comforting the other, “they were such a dick anyway” or “I never really liked them to begin with.”

As the school day concluded, you decided to watch the volleyball teams practice. A common occurrence at this point.

“Oh hey, Y/N.” Suna said as he entered the gym, Osamu behind him. Osamu looked up to give you a smile, which you returned. No hey or hug like you were used to. There was something different about Osamu this time.

As you watched the boys practice, you would have some casual conversation with the team. Giggling and smiling, but never Osamu. It was always Osamu, but not since your conversation earlier.

Eventually Osamu was alone for the first time the whole practice, so you decided to confront him on his weird behaviour. “‘Samu?” You ask softly, his head poking up to look at you, “you’re acting weird, is everything okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Y/N. Just a little stressed, school and all that,” He mumbled softly before returning back to practise leaving you dumbfounded. 

“You know that’s not the reason right, Y/N?” Suna said from behind you. Causing you to look behind you, giving him a look of curiosity. “Apparently Atsumu sent him a message earlier, I dunno what it was exactly about but it was something about you that’s for sure.” After Suna finished speaking he grabbed his water bottle and walked away.

You couldn’t focus on the last part of their practices, instead you were left wondering from Suna’s words. As practice concluded, you could hear the Miya’s bickering as you began leaving before Osamu called out to you, “Y/N-chan!” You stop in your tracks turning to face the twin jogging towards you, “can we talk for a second, please?”

“Oh sure.”

You and Osamu walked in silence, an awkward silence in drastic contrast to the usual comfortable silence before reaching a private area.

“I uhm- about earlier I’m sorry for like acting weird…” he said fiddling with his fingers, “it’s just ‘Tsumu sent me a stupid text and It’s just like bothering me and-”

“Osamu.” You cut him off, looking at him in the face, “can I kiss you? I know you said you wanted it to be someone you care about-”

Your words were cut off as Osamu placed his hand on your chin, pulling you closer before your lips collided. The world seemed to fade away as your lips met, a fusion of unspoken emotions and shared history. As you both pulled away, heat rising on both of your faces. Before Osamu let out a chuckle, “did ‘Tsumu get you too?”

“Mhm. Glad he did though.” You say wrapping your arms around, Osamu. 

“Fucking finally. You owe me some puddin’.” Atsumu said towards Suna, who just rolled his eyes in response.

©slut4msby.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq x reader #haikyuu smut #lea's stories :3 #slut4msby #osamu #osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu miya #miya twins #onigiri miya #osamu miya x reader #osamu fluff #miya osamu fic #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu drabbles

[wttcsms]

switchin' the positions for you, osamu miya

pairing osamu miya x f!reader word count 2k synopsis osamu miya says you've got a lot to learn, rookie, and he's more than happy to teach you. content contains creampie, pet names (baby, good girl), slight praise kink (reader receiving), fwb to lovers, multiple positions, tennis player!reader author's notes to the requester: you know who you are, girl. give the masses (me) what i want: you to become a writer!!!

“Fuck.” Osamu hisses out the word like it burns to have it escape through his gritted teeth. “D’ya like that, baby?” 

You can’t give him a coherent answer; it’s kind of hard to hold a conversation with him when he’s got you sitting all snug on his lap, cockhead hitting that special sensitive spot of yours that you never knew you had until you start your little arrangement with him. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s the only person capable of reducing you to a hot, whiny mess but when you instinctually tighten up around his cock, he lets out a soft, smug laugh. 

His warm breath tickles your ear when he leans down to tell you, “Told ya I’d teach you a thing or two.” 

You try to tilt your head back so your eyes can meet his. You don’t like looking up to people, but Osamu is just so big. You’re sitting on him, pussy clamping down on his fat cock that’s buried snugly inside of you, your back pressed against his muscular chest. The man owns a restaurant; surely hauling all those massive rice bags couldn’t have possibly given him this figure. You want to make a face, let him know that his “I told you so” is not appreciated, but when he makes eye contact with you, he gives you a smirk — a warning. A split second later, he thrusts up, and you can’t hold back your moan. 

He did that on purpose, you think to yourself. He’s always baiting you, always waiting for the right moment to catch you off guard. You’re a favorite to win the Japan’s Women’s tennis tournament; no one catches you off guard. 

But when you’re out on the road, traveling with your team, and your starvation-induced tantrum leads to your coach making a pitstop to some hole-in-the-wall restaurant named Onigiri Miya, you learn that it is possible for someone to trip you up. 

“So you’re the girl with the killer serve,” is what he says the first time he’s taking your order. “You don’t look like much of a killer to me.” 

You’re pissed, hungry, and still upset over hearing the men’s team talk about how you look good in your skirt and should consider modeling for Sports Illustrated instead of trying to make it big in tennis. You’re frowning when you tell him, “Are you the owner of this restaurant?” 

“Yep.” 

“Doesn’t look like much of a restaurant to me.” In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t be rude to the man handling your food. 

“It’s up and coming.” He says, eyes looking you up and down in a way that makes you suddenly very, very hyper aware of how fitted your top and how short your skirt is. He’s not ogling you; he’s sizing you up. Like you’re a challenge. “It’ll look it soon enough.” 

You like a good challenge. 

When you come back the next week, high off your victory, you walk through the doors of Onigiri Miya, smug and prideful. 

The feeling intensifies whenever he tells you he saw your game, but you’re immediately dissatisfied when he hits you with a, “Ya still got a lot to learn, though.” 

Your first lesson? Taking three of his thick fingers knuckle-deep in your pussy as your back is pressed against the wall of the storage room of Onigiri Miya. There’s only one single light bulb flickering in the darkness of the pantry, but you don’t focus on that. Instead, you focus on the searing heat from between your thighs, too eager to chase after pleasure to care about the fact that you’re so wet, you can hear every thrust. 

You’re so close to cumming, you find yourself moving your hips upwards, trying to bring yourself to release even faster. He immediately stops his ministrations, making an annoyed sound of clear disapproval.

“You need to learn how to stop bein’ so damn greedy.” His words come out as a raspy whisper, and when your walls involuntarily clench around his fingers, there’s a small noise that seems to come from the back of his throat. He’s holding himself back. 

Somehow, the fact that you have a strong effect on him as well makes you so pleased, you find yourself gripping his shoulder as you disobediently grind against his fingers yourself, letting out a loud whine as you cum all over his hand. 

With heated cheeks and heavy breathing, you let Osamu Miya know that being greedy is what makes you such a star player. You don’t get by with just taking what’s given to you; everything, from points on the court to a more-than-satisfactory orgasm, is yours for the taking. 

You don’t expect him to just smile at your prideful remark, and you certainly don’t expect him to remove his fingers from you, hold them up to the light so you can both admire the way his index, middle, and ring fingers are glistening with your juices, before he licks the pads of them. 

Is the room heating up? Did the air conditioning suddenly break? You feel hotter than usual as you watch the vulgar display, and you should be ashamed of the way your knees are already weak from hitting your climax, ashamed of the way you have to press your thighs together so he doesn’t catch the way you’re already anticipating a round two. 

“Have a taste, baby.” He’s grinning, smiling like the damn devil himself, as he extends his hand, brings the tips of his fingers to your lips. You shake your head no, not trusting yourself to speak. 

He pretends to sound disappointed. “No?” Then with a shrug and a smug more for me then, he licks the rest of your essence off of his fingers. 

“I could go for a second helping.” 

The sentence barely leaves his mouth before you find yourself parting your thighs to welcome him back.

Through the course of three months, you find yourself being taught various lessons from Osamu. He teaches you to mind your manners and refuses to fuck into you, choosing to tease you with the head of his cock instead. 

“Not gonna fuck ya ‘til you say please.” 

Like with your tennis matches, it all boils down to a game of stamina. Who can hold out the longest? His tip is wet and sticky with pre, and you can catch every hitch of his breath as he rubs against your clit. You’re soaking through his bedsheets, his bed being the only comfortable piece of furniture he has in his “work in progress” of a bachelor pad. 

He practices breathing exercises with you when he pushes himself as far as your little throat can take him. Drool will be dribbling out the corners of your swollen lips, and he has your hair bunched up in a makeshift ponytail, strands sloppily wrapped around his hand as he watches you try to take all of him in your mouth. 

“You gotta breathe through your nose, baby. Atta girl, that’s my good girl.”

He teaches you that you like praise. 

He’s more observant than you realize. You can tell from the way he recaps and analyzes your matches with you after a particularly rough game, and you can tell from the way he’ll notice if the way he has you bent over the kitchen counter is uncomfortable for you. He knows you like the way he gives it to you hard, sloppy, messy. You have a meticulous training routine, every aspect of your life reduced to a bullet point on an itinerary from your personal coach. 

It makes sense that his sloppy kisses, the ones that leave your lips swollen, the ones that are less than kisses and more of just messy exchanges of spit, are your favorites. You like being reduced to a wet, boneless, fucked out little mess, and you like it because it’s all coming from him. He has a business to tend you, and you have a professional athletic career, and yet, the world is reduced to his barebones apartment bedroom. No tennis matches, no food truck deliveries to worry about.

Just your back pressed against his chest, the thin material of your athletic tanktop and his tight fitted compression shirt doing nothing to stop the searing exchange from both of your bodies’ heat. 

“Told ya I’d teach you a thing or two.”

All you can do is close your eyes and lose yourself to the overwhelming pleasure of having him buried to the hilt inside of you. 

“You’re so good for me, ya know that?” You like the way he grunts out the words, punctuating each word with a thrust that has you clinging to his forearm, both of his hands wrapped tightly around your stomach so you can stay still, stay easily accessible for him. “You’re not just my good girl, you’re my best girl.”

You let his words of praise soak you to the bone. You’re letting out desperate, high-pitched, needy whines, and there’s no more holding back on his end. He’s fucking into you with the stamina and strength that rivals some athletes. 

You finish first; you always do. You tried, once, to get him to cum before you, but once he caught on to your little scheme, he stretched your body, had your legs folded and sore as he fucked into you almost angrily, like getting him off before you have is something he takes personal offense to. 

He’s addicted to watching you cum. The way you can’t control your body, your tight, always stressed out body that only seems able to relax when he’s smothering you, his body heat getting lost and mixed up with yours. You fit so perfectly against him, under him, on top of him. When you cum, you tilt your head back, resting against his shoulder. Your eyes look dazed, almost like you’re unable to see straight, but he stares at you, smiling as he realizes that every time you cum, you can’t help but search for him. 

When he finishes inside of you, you think you’re close to cumming again. The rush of hot, thick heat flooding your now-sloppy insides has you whining so cutely, he almost wants to start fucking into you again. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets you rest, gives you a minute to catch your breath. 

“I don’t normally do this, y’know.” He sounds a bit out of breath, and it fills you with deep satisfaction to know that you’re capable of having this effect on him. It’d be embarrassing to be beat in a contest of stamina when you’re the professional athlete here. 

“So you’ve said.” 

Osamu is busy with his business, and you’re busy with tennis. The two of you know that there’s not a lot of room for a relationship, but the two of you are also well aware of the fact that there’s something more to this than just good sex. It’s obvious in the way he holds you, and it’s obvious in the way you let him. He wants to cook you good food and to meet his mother, and you want him at all your games, to dedicate your victory speeches to him. 

“I wanna do this right.” And he’s so sincere when he says it that it makes your heart flutter, gives you the unfamiliar sensation of butterflies in your tummy. “I wanna take you out on dates and for you to meet my family.” 

“I’ve never been in a relationship.” You admit this to him, even though he already knows. “So, I wouldn’t know what’s the ‘right’ way to go about it, anyway.” You peer up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. “But you promised you’d teach me a thing or two.”

“Yeah?” The word comes out breathless, full of anticipating, wanting, hope.

“And I think I really don’t mind being taught every once in a while.”

#osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x you #osamu x reader #osamu smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #one shot #imagine #drabble

[kitashousewife]

“my back hurts,” osamu bends back, wincing with his eyes closed. it’s a saturday, post dinner rush, and he’s taking a break outside.

“maybe if you wore better shoes, you wouldn’t be bothered so much.”

your voice sounds distant through the phone speakers. his black high-tops kicks a pebble out of the way. very broken in, stained, and even a little ripped. he takes his hat off to rub his head before responding.

“but they match and look nice,”

“you can find nice, matching shoes with some support.”

osamu snorts. “those always look ugly,”

you laugh on the other line, and he grins. you groan, and hold the phone up closer to your lips.

“you’re a dork. we can look online later tonight, okay?”

“fine,” he sighs. he can hear the employees in the shop speaking louder, and he takes that as his queue to go back inside. “ya on yer way? yer favorite is the special tonight,”

he can feel you smile. “it’s the special every night. and yes, i’m only a couple blocks away.”

he pushes the back door open, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear as he puts his apron on again. he finishes the call and heads straight to the seating area to set your table up with the plastic reserved sign. like he does every saturday night.

he might even join you this time. just to rest his back, like he does every saturday.

#osamu loves a routine #osamu x reader #osamu x reader fluff #osamu drabble #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff

[satorisoup]

#HAIKYUU AND WHERE THEY KISS YOU (MULTIPLE CHARACTER)

#A/N : hshshss i love this prompt.

#WARNINGS : f!reader. kisses.

tip of the nose kisses. leaning down, placing an innocent sweet peck on the tip of your red flushed nose. sweet smiles and little laughs aftwards. it’s just too cute to pass up.

TENDOU. oikawa. sugawara.

knuckle kisses. ever the gentleman, will softly lift your hand to their lips and place soft kisses to your knuckles. will tell you that you look beautiful while still holding your hand in theirs.

osamu. akaashi. semi.

forehead kisses. putting a hand behind your head to tilt your face up, leaving a tender kiss right in the middle of your forehead. its so domestic and he just cant get enough.

kita. ushijima.

cheek kisses. bends down just to leave a little kiss on your cheek. sometimes squishes both of your cheeks together and peppers kisses on both sides.

IWAIZUMI. suna. kuroo.

big fat lip kisses. will smooch your lips over and over again. they’re just so soft and you’re so cute he just cant help but give you big ol’ kisses any time he wants to.

BOKUTO BOKUTO BOKUTO. atsumu.

#anime #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x you #satorisoup #haikyuu x reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #haikyuu kuroo #ushijima x reader #kenma x you #kenma x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto fluff #atsumu x y/n #miya osamu #kita x reader #kita shinsuke #hajime iwaizumi #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #sugawara x y/n #sugawara x you

[heich0e]

little!miya gets sick and single dad!osamu is in over his head. the little boy's fever is raging and he's inconsolable, refusing any of the care his papa is desperately trying to offer him.

he's only asking for you.

"W-WHERE'S BABE? I want my ba-aaaaabe," the four year old wails, his cheeks flushed scarlet and snot dripping from his nose as the tears continue.

"babe's at home, buddy. you'll see her tomorrow once ya get some sleep, alright?" osamu wipes at his son's nose as he tries to comfort him but it doesn't help much. the little boy clutches tighter at the plush toy tucked under his arm—one you bought for him on a trip to the aquarium, one of the first days the three of you spent together—and turns his head away from his father petulantly.

"I ONLY WANT BABE."

samu sighs, raking a hand through his greasy hair. he's exhausted. it's been hours of this, and his son is showing no signs of relenting.

finally he cracks, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.

"he's asleep now."

the bedroom door closes behind you with a soft click.

samu is slumped against the wall in the hallway, his knees spread and head hanging, having been banished from the room by his own flesh and blood the minute you showed up half an hour prior.

"thanks fer this," samu says quietly, keeping his voice low as you crouch down on the floor in front of him. "i'm sorry to call so late."

you press a hand to his cheek, running your thumb over the shadow of fatigue inking under his eye. it's darker than usual, and you understand why.

"call me anytime, samu," you reassure him. "you know i'd do anything for you two."

"ya shouldn't have to do this, though," samu mumbles, struggling to meet your gaze that feels too tender—too comforting and familiar and pitying—right now.

"i barely did anything," you argue, a bit indignantly. "i just read him a story and helped him take off his pyjama top so he could 'wear his jammies like papa.'"

samu laughs tiredly at that, a short, wry breath of air through his nose.

"and i didn't have to do it," you add again after a moment, taking both of his cheeks in your hands and forcing him to look at you properly. "i wanted to, because i love you both very much."

samu's eyes are burning. he knows it's because he's overtired. hell, he wouldn't be surprised if he caught whatever virus his son brought home from school. but regardless of the why, the tears are flooding up inside his chest and threatening to spill over.

"love you," samu says, the words all breath and unequivocal truth. "'m glad yer here."

he leans forward and tucks his face into the crook of your neck, and you wrap your arms around him as you welcome it.

you hold him there, on the floor outside his four year old son's bedroom, for as long as he needs you to.

finally, osamu feels a bit more himself, and is ready to pull away. you brush a few strands of his hair out of his gaze once he's extricated himself from your embrace. there's a little twinkle of mischief behind your eyes. "you should go get cleaned up and ready for bed, and i'll go grab that ice cream i hid in the back of the freezer behind the broccoli."

samu smiles, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the edge of your mouth.

"i love you," he says, speaking the words against your welcoming lips.

"you already said that," you tease him, tilting your head so that your reply meets the centre of his own.

"i mean it, though," samu replies, inching back only far enough that he can see both your eyes, the ends of your noses brushing as he watches your lashes flutter. "so, wanna marry me?"

#osamu x reader #single dad!osamu #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

[torhues]

osamu miya.

"what do you think is the right way to ask someone out?" osamu's sudden question draws out your attention from your english assignment.

you take a moment to think, and while he thinks you're sorting out the most appropriate answers to his question, you're lost looking the answer to just one question that's plaguing your mind : should you tell him, or not?

"uh, who is it for?" you settle with the conclusion that he's asking that question out of curiosity. after all, you both are at an age where romance gradually becomes an integral parts of almost everyone's life.

out of all the years that you've known osamu— which is for around seven years for now— there has been only one time when you've seen him pursuing someone, and that was your best friend in middle school; and like the good friend you were, you helped the two of them confess to each other. you would walk to school and back, watching them holding hands, make plans without you because they were dating and it was understandable. you didn't mind, not at all, for you weren't in love with him at that point.

looking back now, you wonder if things would've turned out different if you hadn't helped your friend, or if you had realised your feelings a bit earlier. back then, you found it amusing to watch two people in love act like idiots, not knowing it'd all come back to you with a much larger impact.

"someone i like," he replies in his classic monotonous voice, as if he couldn't care less about not telling you who he has a crush on. it's exactly how it was back in middle school. had it not been for your friend, you wouldn't have known she was the one osamu had been planning to ask out all along. "goes to the same university as us, might even be in your biochem class,"

and your mind traces over the image of every single person in your class, crossing out the names that don't seem to fit osamu's taste in romantic partners. it's not the first time you're doing this. in fact, you've gotten used to figuring out whether he would be interested in someone just by looking at them. it's something you've learnt as you got better at hiding your feelings.

you've known him long enough to know who he might date yet still, couldn't bring yourself to believe that you could possibly have a chance with him.

"well, i can't tell you if i don't know the person," something about you makes osamu believe that you're a cupid. you're good at reading people, welcoming, albeit not so good at reaching out to strangers, but you are likeable, more than likeable, actually.

he has seen you set people up, including himself, and excluding yourself. the reason why you're not interested in pursuing someone anymore is beyond his comprehension. you have your fair share of knowledge about relationships, have dated a couple of guys before giving up altogether. it's not like your relationships didn't work, but it always seemed as if you were better off without them.

even while dating, it looks like your eyes are looking for someone else while being in someone's arms.

he sighs, putting down his phone. "just tell me what you like, people aren't much different after all,"

"uh, well, i hate public confessions and people who confess through calls and texts," which stands true for most the people out there. public confessions are more of a show off and confessing through texts is just, not enough. "also, i like to stay at home or be at some cafe so like, arcades, amusement parks and places like those aren't up to my liking either,"

you notice the smile on his face, along with the dreamy eyes and make him look prettier than he already is. frankly, the idea of osamu doing everything you like to ask someone else out hurts more than it should. you're probably not the only persons with those likes and dislikes. you know you should be happy for him and the person he likes because in the end, osamu is everything you, or anyone, could ask for.

"what about flowers? lilacs?" he asks, getting back to his phone.

"what are you doing, congratulating someone on their graduation?" his lips instantly curve into a frown, and you know in his head, he's snickering about how he is not the best when it comes to picking flowers, and that you shouldn't make fun of him for this. "i'd say tulips, they're a better gifts for first dates and confessions,"

one day, back in first year of university, osamu asked you why you don't seek relationships anymore. thinking about it now, you never gave him an absolute answer.

on some days, the answer would be academics, other days, it would be sadness looming over your shoulders after watching your ex with someone else. sometimes, you would excuse it by saying it's a waste of time and when asked when you're drunk, you'd say it's because you already have someone in mind, someone who can't be yours, no matter how much you try.

on some days, you wonder if osamu ever thinks about all the answers, or excuses, you gave to his question. there are times when the worlds makes compels you to believe that osamu likes you back, but then you realise that if he did, he wouldn't have asked out others all this time. you did drop hints regarding your feelings for him, and he failed to catch on for he for too busy looking at everyone except you.

"i wonder why you don't date anymore," the question arises again, flooding all the memories back into your head.

"i did have someone i liked, but he likes someone else," and you realise you can't lie to him anymore. "so, i gave up," osamu finds it amusing how you say those words with a smile, and he finds it despairing knowing that now, you've simply learnt to live with pain while pretending to be okay.

he shoots you a comforting smile, "i hope that wouldn't be the case for me,"

"me too," and you smile back.

he gets off your bed, picking up his jacket while offering soft apologies for the state your bed is in because of him. sometimes, you feel like there should be a warning for everyone who dates him : caution, this man doesn't know how to keep the bed clean. there are nights when you go to sleep thinking about how you're probably the only one who can keep up with this habit of his, and then wake up realising that it wasn't a problem to anyone it now so, it wouldn't be in future either.

it's like oscillating between the possibility and impossibility of him and you, caressing your little heart with false hope.

"ah, what should i say while confessing?" he shoots another question, making you snicker in annoyance.

"c'mon 'samu, you're not asking someone out for the first time,"

"just tell me,"

and you allow yourself to get lost in thoughts again. for a brief second, you consider telling him to not confess. the reason? your feelings, but again, you and him aren't meant to be together in the first place. it's just like how the saying goes— cupids must not fall in love— and you did the forbidden, knowing it would hurt you ten folds more every time you tie his threads with someone that's not you.

"i don't know, just give the flowers and ask if they'd like to go out with you or something," he chimes a faint thank you before leaving your room, and then your apartment. this time, you don't walk up to the door to see him off, neither do you wish him good luck, and surprisingly, osamu doesn't seem to notice your minute absence either.

it's fine, you tell yourself, one of you has to start getting accustomed to the other's absence. while the process has already begun for you, you hope osamu gets used to it as well. you need him to stop reaching you out for relationship advices because you don't know how long you can compose yourself before shattering once again. you try to distract yourself with essays due next month or even further, reading chapters that haven't been taught in class, reading research papers; just anything that can keep your mind off osamu.

you don't want to think about him, or what he's doing. maybe, he's buying the flowers, making preparations or calling his crush and asking them to meet him at their favourite place. even better if his crush confessed while he has been preparing a proposal of his own, it would be cinematic. you don't want to think about him at all, but the more you try, the deeper he engraves inside your mind.

the evening rolls by with you still sitting at your study desk with a bunch of papers lying around a not one complete work. there are rain splatters on your windows and you hope the off-season showers haven't ruined his confession. you can't wish for the other person to like him back, so you just wish for his happiness; whatever makes him happy, even if it means pushing him away.

and when you manage to drag yourself to the kitchen to grab something to eat and make yourself feel better, the sound of your doorbell hits your ears. the rain hits harder, you muster up the energy to walk up to the door.

there's osamu standing with a love sick smile and slightly wet hair, along with rain splatters on his shirt, and the bouquet of tulips in his hand. "will you go out with me?"

#♡ hues'. #♡ handmade. #this is not angst trust me #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fic #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu headcanons #osamu fluff #osamu headcanons #osamu drabbles #osamu fic #osamu angst #haikyuu angst #miya osamu #haikyuu osamu

[atsumulogy]

WHO’S DADDY? PRANK WITH YOUR DAUGHTER. FEAT. DAD!ATSUMU

synopsis: dad!atsumu and uncle!osamu play a little harmless prank on yours and atsumu’s daughter, aki, what could go wrong? right?

featuring: dad!miya atsumu x AFAB! reader. miya osamu, hinata shoyo, sakusa kiyoomi, & bokuto koutaro.

cw: kids, mentions of pregnancy and labor, kids crying? um … yeah that’s all i think. LOL and maybe grammar errors

naia’s footnote: dad!atsumu fluff to make up for my last atsumu angst <3 this is an edited version of the one i posted in my old blog.

Soft coo’s and aww’s filled the room, as cute baby twins were laying in the crib together, looking at the people that surrounded them in curiosity as the two of them tilted their little heads in unison, consequently eliciting another batch of coo’s and aww’s from the people in the room.

“Aren't they just the cutest?” Atsumu gushed over the children that you two created, and you swore you heard him giggle like a school girl in love.

He’s beaming, pride blooming from his chest seeing the small features they inherited from him and, most importantly, you. You, who struggled every day during pregnancy with your morning sickness. You, who had to endure the pain of labor just so you could give him the privilege of loving two more new people for the rest of his life.

Osamu nods in agreement as he caresses his nephew's cheek with his knuckles, smiling at how he reminds him so much of his brother.

“Atsumu-san, what if you two do that thing where you and Osamu-san confuse one of the twins on who’s their dad?” Hinata excitedly suggested, jumping a little in his place while he looks at the twins, recalling a video on YouTube that went viral.

“Don’t plant any ideas in his head, Hinata.” Sakusa starts telling Hinata off before getting caught off guard by Bokuto backing up Hinata’s suggestion.

“Noo do it! I saw a video like that once on Twitter and it was so adorable and funny. C’mon, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“Mm, I mean, Bokkun’s right — what’s the worst thing that could happen, right?” Both Atsumu and Osamu agreed — but mostly Atsumu, curious about what would happen. While Osamu on the other hand, was dragged into the scheme.

“Come to Daddy, baby.” Osamu tries to mimic his brother’s voice, making you and the others snicker, while Atsumu scoffs in offense before rolling his eyes at his brother.

Aki, being the daddy’s girl that she is, did not hesitate to raise her arms out to Osamu after hearing what seemed to be her “daddy’s” voice, making Atsumu, once again, dramatically scoff and huff in slight offense and disbelief at his daughter’s betrayal.

“Daddy?” She tilted her head at Osamu. She looked at him with doe eyes as she furrowed her eyebrows, curious about her “daddy’s” new hair color. Lowkey making Atsumu jealous because he wasn’t the one that she was calling daddy.

“Noo baby, Aki, come here, I’m daddy.” She turned her head towards Atsumu, confused at how there were two daddies now.

Looking at Osamu again, and at Atsumu who had his arms out for her to reach for, was far too overwhelming for her and her little head to fully comprehend why there were two daddies at the same time.

And before you all know it, your baby girl was crying — fat tears running down her chubby cheeks as her lips wobbled in distress.

(And alas, curiosity killed the cat.)

“I told you,” Sakusa mutters.

“Oh shit,” Atsumu curses as Osamu cringes at the baby in his arms that was now crying with her snot and tears all over him. Both of them feeling awful that they made Aki cry, remorse setting in.

Aito, Aki’s little brother, heard his sister’s wails. And as if sensing that she was in distress, started crying too, as he empathized with whatever his sister was crying about.

“Aww, sweetheart,” you coo’d, taking him from the crib as you cradled him in your arms, rocking him back and forth, trying to ease his cries. Which, fortunately, worked as his cries died down soon after.

“I want my daddy.” Aki demanded in tears, and Atsumu was fast to grant his little girl her wish, hastily taking her from Osamu’s hold. His dad's instincts flipped a switch inside him that he didn’t know he even had.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, Daddy’s here now. Were you scared? Hm?” He slightly rocks her, whispering more apologies as he starts drying her salty tears with his free hand.

“Daddy is sorry, I’m here baby.” He assures her, making her nod her head and follow his soothing voice as she automatically wraps her little arms around his neck.

“Wow, I've never seen Atsumu-san look so distraught before, let alone this soft and gentle.” Hinata comments after he and Bokuto both apologized to you for bringing the idea up.

“I admit, Miya’s a lot more tolerable — I guess — when he's with his kids.” Sakusa hummed in agreement with Hinata, looking at Atsumu with a now merry Aki in his arms while they both beamed at each other.

As you looked at the baby boy in your arms, sleeping peacefully, and at the sight before you, you smiled. Despite the little mishap that happened just a minute ago, you were happy. You were in a state of content and tranquillity — secretly, you concluded to yourself that you wouldn’t trade these moments for anything in this world.

© ATSUMULOGY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ANY FORM OF PLAGIARISM AND REPOSTING OF ANY OF MY CONTENT IS PROHIBITED AND WILL NOT BE TOLERATED.

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #hinata x reader #hinata fluff #sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #haikyuu x you #atsumu x you #hq fluff