✧( ु•⌄• )◞The Miya Twins◟( •⌄• ू )✧

BOOP!!

[13:25] miya osamu sobbing bcs @ufo-ikawa made me listen to free love by honne & i automatically thought of samu

“tsum’s always third-wheeling us, but where is he when we need him?” you huff, using the collar of osamu’s worn t-shirt to wipe away the sweat on your forehead. “this would go a lot faster if he were here.”

it’s the middle of summer, it’s way too hot, and the air conditioning in osamu’s newly purchased storefront is still broken. yet here the both of you are anyway, painting walls in the muggy afternoon heat of downtown osaka.

osamu makes a sound of agreement just as his phone buzzes in his pocket, wiping his hand on his paint-streaked shirt before grabbing it and glancing down at the screen. “oh, this is the scrub now saying…he’s at some resort in tokyo with his girl.”

“wait, the one he met last month?” you ask, dropping the paint roller into its tray when he hands you the phone, a selfie of his brother lounging on a pool chair on the screen. “wow, a month into the relationship and he’s already whisking her off to a resort? lucky girl.”

osamu’s got an odd look on his face as you hand the phone back. “he, uh, said he’d be back on tuesday to help us move the furniture in, though.”

“that’s good,” you shrug, picking up your roller and resuming your neat strokes of light grey paint. “i already know he’s gonna be eating here all the time, so we need to make sure he pulls his weight before opening.”

he hums in acknowledgement, resuming his painting beside you. when you look over, he’s got a comtemplative look on his face, brows pulled down and mouth pressed into a tight line.

“let’s take a water break,” you propose when you can tell he’s pulled a little too far into his head by…by something. in the five years you’ve dated him, you know that osamu’s like this. sometimes his thoughts are a little too loud, and whatever they are right now are screaming at him, drowning out reason.

he hears you, though, dropping his roller into the tray before taking a seat in the middle of the tarp-covered floor (flooring the both of you had installed yourselves with the help of a youtube tutorial). you reach into the cooler, grabbing two bottles of water before lowering yourself to the ground next to him, handing him a bottle of water before uncapping your own.

“i’d understand, you know,” he murmurs quietly once you’re settled.

you watch him out of the corner of your eye, noting the way his restless hands pick at the label on the bottle. he’s nervous. “understand what?

he’s not looking at you, staring straight ahead. “if ya wanted to leave.”

you chuckle, taking a gulp before screwing the cap back on, pressing the cool bottle to your cheek. “i’m not gonna leave before we’re done painting the edges. i’ll stay all night if i have to.”

“not the walls,” he says a little stiffly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i meant— i meant me. if ya wanted to leave me, i would…i would understand.”

you blink a few times, wondering if the heat was making you hallucinate or something. “osamu, why would i do that?”

“it’s just, you deserve more than— than this,” he gestured around at his half-assembled store. “i don’t have much. you know i poured a good chunk of my savings into leasing this place. i can’t take you to nice dinners on our anniversary or buy you pretty things, and now i’ve got you doin’ manual labour on your day off. you deserve better.”

“better?” you repeat, wondering if he’s hallucinating.

osamu shrugs, then lets his steady shoulders slump. “you…you deserve someone who can take you to tokyo.”

“but i don’t want to go to tokyo. it’s too—”

“crowded, i know,” he finishes, hesitantly meeting your gaze. “but you know what i mean.”

“no, i don’t,” you say firmly. “because you’re not making any sense right now. should i call an ambulance? is this heat stroke?”

he says your name exasperatedly. “i’m serious. you’ve got no obligation—”

“do you love me?” you interrupt.

“of course i do,” he answers without hesitation, and you can hear it, the desperate edge in his voice, the little part of him that says he doesn’t want to let you go.

satisfied, you uncap your water and take another drink. “then that’s that.”

he frowns a little. “but—”

you raise your brows at him. “unless you want me to date your brother?”

“what? no.”

“exactly.” you shuffle over to cup his face in your palms, the tip of your nose brushing his as he leans into your touch and you murmur, “i don’t need anything or anyone else.”

no one but osamu, who can’t take you to nice dinners but spent hours in the kitchen cooking up your favourite dishes on your anniversary last month. who seasoned everything to your liking and somehow made it compliment the cheapest bottle of wine you could find.

osamu, who can’t buy you nice things, but shows you everyday, in his own way, just how much he appreciates and loves you. who packs you a lunch every night and walks you to the train station each morning. who always lets you have the last slice or bite of anything, and holds your opinion on new dishes in the highest regard.

osamu, who is willing to let you go because he thinks you deserve better. you don’t doubt he’ll give it all to you someday, when he can. but for now?

for now you’ll kiss his sweaty forehead in his half-built onigiri shop, the both of you streaked with paint and melting in the summer heat. but none of it matters because, well,

“all i need is you.”

angel of.... sweet drink

Why aren’t they real

this random inarizaki kitsune idea brought me a lot of joy, i hope it gives you all just as much

cooking class for beginners 🍙

— Miya Osamu x Reader

— cw: NSFW (minors dni)

To say you have a crush on your roommate's brother is an understatement.

You're completely and utterly in love with him.

To say you're having a mild panick attack now that you're alone with him in the middle of the night... also an understatement.

"Why him tho?" one of your friends had asked you once, after Atsumu left for his classes and it was only you and her on the appartament "His brother looks exactly the same and it's going to be a professional volleyball player one day! Are you sure you're crushing on the right Miya?"

Again, and you would continue to clarify that to everyone that knew about your feelings for Osamu, you didn't had a simple "crush" on him.

It had all started after you and Atsumu had agreed to live together.

You were both on your first year of college then, Atsumu with his big dreams of going pro and you, wanting to graduate as fast as possible so you could start looking for a nice job that allowed you to eat something other than cold pizza on Friday nights.

Either way, neither of you could afford to live alone in one of the apartments close to the university, so after some classes in common and the usual small talk in the cafeteria that allowed you to make sure Atsumu was not a serial killer— or at least didn't really talked like one—, you decided that it would be a good idea to be roommates, since you were both still looking for a place.

You didn't became actual friends with the older Miya until a couple of months later later tho, after many uncomfortable encounters in the bathroom, midnights when neither of you could sleep and frantic afternoons studying last minute for a test. Atsumu was charming and funny, the perfect picture of the guy friend every girl should have. He would go shopping with you and carry the groceries, take time to listen to your troubles and overall be a good roommate that would — almost — always remember to flush the toilet.

And one day out of nowhere, he had also introduced you to the most handsome man you had ever seen.

"They literally look the same! What are you even talking about?" had said the same friend after you had called her to gush about him.

Cue Osamu Miya and his playful smirk when you came stumbling into the living room one faithful summer day, while carrying the books you were going to need for the semester.

"This is my brother" Atsumu had introduced him, giving him a pat on the shoulder "And 'Samu, this is my roommate and friend"

Osamu had nodded when hearing your name, smirk still in place."Nice to meet ya. I hope my brother here isn't giving ya much trouble"

You had dropped all your books to the floor, drowning the sound of Atsumu's complains.

Osamu would become a regular visitor, crashing in your sofa a couple of nights a week and coming to cook for the both of you from time to time. He hadn't opened his restaurant then. He was still quite busy looking for the right place and hiring people to help him. And since both Atsumu and you were useless in the kitchen, he would practice his recipes at your place and then leave your fridge full to the brim.

He was so mature, and calm... and you were always trying to avoiding the word "cool" in fear of sounding like a teenager crushing on some boy band guy... but he was definitely that too. He had his priority straights, had that dry kind of sense of humor that made you chuckle in spite yourself and you also totally wanted him to touch you with those big hands he used to make the perfect onigiri rolls.

You definitely spent a lot of time watching his hands work.

And while you could already consider him a friend, you were definitely not used to spending time alone with him, usually relying on Atsumu's presence to ease the nerves you felt when he so much as looked in your direction.

But tonight had to be the night Atsumu decided to go to one of his one night stands house, instead of bringing her to your place.

The night Osamu, of course, had also decided to stop by while you were alone, clad only in one of your oldest t-shirts and watching reruns of your comfort TV show.

He actually makes a good job of ignoring the state you're in and plops down next to you on the sofa "Do ya mind if I wait for him here?" he asks, when you tell him that Atsumu's not home, forcing the words to come out of your throat at the sight of him by the front door.

Damn Atsumu and his extra key.

"Not really" you reply after a second, screaming internally and moving a bit to the side "Suit yourself"

He tells you about the restaurant without you having to ask, and you're grateful he's stressed enough with work that he can talk and talk without paying much attention to the fact that you're frozen in place and barely nodding.

He only looks at you when he's done complaining about one of his employees, his eyes quickly scanning you from head to toe, almost as if he didn't really want you finding out he's ogling at you. "I'm sorry to throw all this on ya. Blame my brother for not being here"

When he looks back at the TV, you check at yourself too, and then choke on whatever you had come up as an answer.

Your old shirt has hole in one of the sleeves.

Osamu turns back to you again "Did ya said anything?"

You shake your head and stand up in a rush, taking a cushion with you to cover what your old t-shirt can't. Osamu is either pretending not to notice, or is used to people standing up with a cushion pressed tightly against their legs, because he doesn't says anything while you slowly retract to your bedroom. "I'm very, very sleepy now!" you laugh, because it occurs to you that it's the most normal thing you can do "I had a lot of classes today and have to wake up early tomorrow... so I'll be hitting the sack now!"

You cringe at your choice of words and pray for Osamu not to notice that you're suddenly almost mimicking how his brother talks. He stares at you for what feels like an eternity when you finally stop at your bedroom's doorstep, and when you're debating whether to say something else or just close the door on his face, he shrugs and turns back to the screen. The titles are rolling, and another episode is about to start.

"I'll just wait for 'Tsumu here"

You consider sending a very long, very stressed voice message to your friend telling her about how Osamu just found you at your worst moment, but give up when you notice she's not online and it's probably sleeping.

You look at the clock in your bedside table then. It's late, and you really do need to get up early  for a lecture tomorrow. You turn the lights off and slide yourself under your covers.

Nevermind that Osamu is on the other side of the door. You've done this before. You've gone to bed knowing that he was in your living room, breathing the same air as you.

Granted, Atsumu was always there too, and that at least gave you some mental peace.

But you can do this. The worst has passed, and Osamu probably doesn't even remembers that your t-shirt is actually a faded Star Wars one you bought one day in your way home from high school. He doesn't pays much attention to you anyway. You close your eyes and breathe out.

It's 2am and you're eyes are wide open.

Not only you can't sleep, but you're also incredibly hungry. You remember you skipped dinner, thinking that the late lunch you had at the university's cafeteria would keep you full for the rest of the day.

It didn't, and now you're  sinking your head on your pillow every time your stomach growls like some kind of wild animal.

The living room is quiet when you can't handle it anymore and decide to get up and press your ear to the door. The TV is off. You think that maybe Osamu got tired of waiting for his brother an left.

Maybe he fell asleep. Or perhaps he's in Atsumu's bedroom.

You pace around your room for a bit, biting your nails and debating with yourself if it's a good idea to just go out and go straight for the fridge. When your stomach growls once more you open the door a fraction, trying to make as little noise as possible. It's all dark, and the TV is indeed off.

There's no sight of Osamu. You release the breath you were holding and stroll into the kitchen area.

The inside of your refrigerator is a sad sight to behold. There's an empty card of milk, a bowl of cooked rice Osamu must have left behind and a single beer. There's also a few vegetables and some green looking food on the door, but you don't even know their names, much less think you could make something remotely edible with them.

You keep the door open with one hand and close your eyes, sighing loudly. "Well, I guess I'll starve to death"

"Well, we wouldn't want that, right?"

You freeze. Of course Osamu is still there. It's just you and your damn luck.

He's lying down on the sofa and looking at you when you slowly turn around, like a deer caught in the headlights, the blue glow of the refrigerator light at your back.

You gulp, and shake your head. "Yeah" you muster up, holding onto the door for dear life "That would probably be bad"

He says nothing else as he stands up and yawns, stretching his arms above his head and boy ... those broad shoulders are something else. You don't register him being already close enough to you until he places one of his hands right beside yours on the door. You try not to whimper and move to the side so he can bend down and take a peek inside.

You're not going to look at his butt.

You're not going to look at his butt.

He turns around with the bowl of cooked rice in one hand and catches you looking at his butt. "See something ya like there?"

You clear your throat and pray for the darkness of the room to cover your flaming red cheeks.

"Cute jeans" you tell him.

That little smirk you both hate and love so much is back in place when he turns around once more to take some of the unknown vegetables with him, and then places everything on the kitchen counter. You're fidgeting with your t-shirt and trying very hard not to run back to your room when he turns on the lights.

"How about I show you to make something quick for when yer hungry?" he says, going for the kitchen cabinet you have never opened since you live there, and grabbing some little seasoning bottles.

You wonder if he was the one who bought those, since you doubt Atsumu would do it.

He stares at you for a long time after everything he's apparently going to need it's in front of him, and you realize a bit late that you still haven't answered him.

You hurry up to nod "Yeah, that would be nice. I dont really want to bother you, tho"

He shrugs "It's no trouble. I'm kind of hungry too"

And then he looks you up an down, licking his lower lip, and you're not quite sure if the hunger in his eyes can be quelled with food.

You squirm and try to pay attention when he starts talking. Slowly, like a teacher.

Like a sexy good looking teacher.

Of course, you're only imagining things, you chide yourself when his eyes flick to you for a moment, before he takes the rice out of the bowl to start shaping it into the traditional triangular onigiri form. You distractedly watch him wash his hands on the sink and then rub a bit of salt on his palms and between his fingers.

And oh no, you're getting turned on.

You're getting turned on by Osamu making onigiris.

You never knew rice could be a crucial part of your sexual fantasies but here you are, watching Osamu Miya taking a portion of rice in his hands and molding it to his liking.

He has big hands, with long, slender fingers that you're definitely not imagining inside you.

As if on cue, he speaks again. "And if we had any filling to hide inside" he says, continuing with the instructions you haven't been actually listening "We would have to do this" and he uses both his middle and index finger to press on the center of the little rice ball, making a small indent that he proceeds to rub slowly, in small circular motions.

You're sure that by now, your panties are soaked.

"Wanna try?" he asks all of the sudden, and you tear your gaze away from his sinfuly big hands to look at his eyes.There's a spark in them that ignites something scorching hot in your lower belly and you nod, dumbfounded, because of course you want to try anything with him. "Then come here"

You move without really registering you're moving, and he waits for you to wash your hands before coming to stand behind you, his breath hitting your ear.

"What do I do?" you ask in a very small voice you don't recognize as your own.

He clicks his tongue and takes your hands in his, making you jump and bump into his chest.

He's warm. Or maybe you're warm. Or maybe the room temperature has skyrocketed all of the sudden.

"Haven't ya been paying attention to what I was saying?"

You dont really know what compels you to be honest at that point, but you swallow around the ball of nerves in your throat and try to look back at him. You find his lips much more closer than what you thought. "Yeah, I wasn't actually listening"

He speaks against your lips then "Well, I guess we can't have that, can we?"

He kisses you forcefully, fully turning you around and pressing your back against the counter,  swallowing your surprised gasp and managing to erase any coherent thought on your head that it's not directly related with the way both of his hands grab your butt and pull you up to set you on the counter. Clutching his shirt for dear life and letting your eyes close, you can't stop your shaky legs to snake around his waist and pull him more firmly against you.

He stops kissing you and growls against your lips.

You definitely whimper this time.

"I've been wanting to do this for quite some time now" he says, voice horse and raw with something so primal that you have to rub against him to ease the ache between your legs. He stills you with a ragged gasp, his hands leaving imprints on your hips "Always thought you had something going up with 'Tsumu"

You find the strength to shake your head as hard as you can "Oh god, no. We're just friends. Nothing else"

"Sure?" he asks, moving his head to the side to run his tongue along your throat before nibbling on your ear.

You moan, a broken shameful sound before whispering "Yes" and then "Please" and clawing at his shirt, and that's apparently all he needs to hear before drawing back slightly to caught your face between his hands, kissing you until your body arches taut against him, your arms wrapping around his neck. When you both stop for air you're panting slightly, and his eyes have turned feral. One of his hands slides to your chest, caressing a nipple for just a moment before continuing south and finding your panties.

"Yer fucking soaked" he tells you, and draws one of his knuckles lightly against your clit.

You jump and hide your face on his neck "Oh my god"

"It's Osamu, actually"

You would laugh, if it wasn't because Osamu falls to his knees in front of you a second later, tugging your panties off and running his tongue between your folds, and the only thing you can do is scream.

He watches your face as he slides out his tongue in a long, slow, stroke against your swollen flesh. Your expression twists in pleasure and you arch up off the counter, flailing your  arms and knocking down the the seasoning bottles. Osamu presses a hand against your abdomen to hold you in place as his tongue flicks out again and curls around your clit. He kisses it softly and then delves his tongue in deeper, sliding into your core and feeling your muscles flutter and clench in response. You can feel your fluids slipping out and coating his chin until he's nearly dripping from it.

You wail, and can't do more than grabbing his head in an attempt to keep him there, kissing you and sucking you until you come apart on his face.

He chuckles, the hand he has on your hip moving for only a moment to rub against his crotch, his throbbing erection more than evident, before grabbing you once more.

"I need ya to come on my tongue so I can fuck you properly after, alright?"

Yes, you really need that too.

He continues to tease your clit and then slowly, decides to sink a finger into you. You're gripping him like a vise at this point, and his tongue continues to play softly against the cluster of nerves under it. He adds a second finger after a couple of minutes, and sinks them deeper inside, seeking for that specific place that will make you shatter completely, while maintaining his relentless assault against your center. You arch until your back starts to hurt and grasp the edge of the counter until your knuckles grow bone white. Osamu finds that special spot inside of you not much later, curling his fingers and pressing firmly on it as he lashes his tongue and tugs at your clit with his teeth.

You open your mouth in a silent scream as you come, feeling your whole body vibrate, and a million little white stars explode behind your eyelids.

When your vision returns and you slowly open your eyes you find him staring at you, bottom lip caught between his teeth and one of his hands kneading at his cock. You want to sit down and tug at his shirt but you don't think you can move, and so you squirm and trash against him until he does it on his own and then unbuckles his pants, letting them fall to the floor along with his underwear.

You have little time to take on the sight of his cock, before he's turning you around and sticking your ass towards him. The cold surface of the kitchen counter provides a nice friction against your nipples, and you move around until you feel the tip of his cock graze your swollen lips.

"Please" you plead, moving your ass against it until he steadies you with a hand and then slides into you, both of you groaning at the same time.

He's unrelentless as he sinks into you, and immediately starts to move— sharp trusts and the sound of skin against sking filing the empty appartament. He moans when you shift enough to meet his hips in tandem, both of his hands finding purchase on your shoulders as he bends over to fuck you more deeply.

"Fuck yeah, ya feel so good babe" he growls, and it occurs to you in that moment that you could probably come again just with the sound of his voice "Do ya like this? Fuck just — just tell me you like this, come on"

"I love it" you gasp, and he dips his head to meet your lips when you lift your face towards him for a messy kiss that has more tongue and teeth tan anything else "I think I'm going to come again, Osamu" you tell him, and let your head fall back against the counter as he picks up speed.

"Fuck yeah, come on my cock"

And you do, when one of his hands snakes between your legs and pulls your clit until you break in many little pieces again, and your second orgasm washes over you and leaves you feeling lightheaded as Osamu drives into you with one long, final thrust and pulls out to come all over your ass cheeks.

He moans when he falls back, and you immediately feel cold at the lack of contact.

You would chase after him, but again — you're pretty sure you won't be able to move. Ever.

"That was just — fuck — that was fantastic" he gasps, and tucks himself in his pants before helping you to turn around for him.

You let your hands wonder idly against his abs as he kisses you, much more softly and playing with the loose strands of your disheveled hair.

"Thank you so much for the class" you tell him after, when he leans his forehead against yours.

He chuckles. "I thought ya said ya weren't really listening"

"Well I wasn't... at the beginning" you say, and your hands find the belt loops on his pants "But by the end I was really focused, I swear"

"I did notice that, yeah. Ya wouldn't mind a couple more classes tho? Just to make sure ya fully take everything in?"

He kisses the smile on your lips before you answer. "I would definitely like to take everything you have to give me. And have another class. Of course, yeah"

"And then maybe go out with me?" he tentatively asks, and you refrain from jumping to his arms "To have dinner? I know a really good place. They serve the best onigiris in town"

You tell him yes a million times while he carries you to your bedroom.

To say you have a crush on your roommate's brother is an understatement.

You're completely and utterly in love with him.

To say you had amazing sex with him on the kitchen counter... also an understatement.

You had the best night of your life.

And Atsumu comes home in the morning to find the remnants of it all over the kitchen. It's his knocking on your bedroom's door what wakes Osamu and you.

He calls your name and then after a pause, he calls Osamu's name to. You vaguely remember that he left his shirt behind on the floor.

"Hey guys... did ya really fuck on the kitchen counter?"

🍙

Ayato

"Destiel is forever," Mark Sheppard, my beloved.

I don't care who anyone is. I see a boop button, I'm fuckin smacking it

summer’s almost over so here’s some summer themed drawings~