husband!osamu miya x pregnant!reader
it's probably around two in the morning — 2:14 to be exact — and the heat of this summer night feels unbearable, making the bare skin of your legs stick to your chair in an uncomfortable way.
osamu is sitting on a chair next to you. carefully, his hands gather your hair at the bottom of your head before gently tugging them upwards and tying them into a messy, ‘not-so-straight’ ponytail that is missing a few strands of your hair — but hey, it's the thought that counts !
with a sigh, osamu leans back into his chair, the furniture squeaking as he dips his head backwards, resting his forearm on his forehead as he closes his eyes. truly, he doesn't look better than you — his dark brown hair is messy, each strand standing in different directions, his black shirt and grey shorts are ruffled from sleep and the pillow's imprint is still visible on his right cheek.
after one or two minutes, osamu glances back at you, a fond smirk on his face as he watches you devour the latest craving he made for you, blue raspberry fruit roll up on a coconut popsicle, staring as you alternate between biting into the sweet and spraying some blue sour spray on top of it.
‘at least it's not a weird craving this time. . .’












