#osamu miya fluff

[emmyrosee]

Hiii I hope you’re having a good day/night💗💗

I find your whole masterlist a MASTERPIECE and I saw a tiktok I NEEDED to send u right away cuz it screams Timeskip Osamu

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS2Qmff6a/

PLS write anything based on the audio with Osamu😂💗💗

tw // suggestive content in piece and audio, minors DNI please and thank you 🫶🏻

———-

Osamu looks so good cooking.

He looks good all of the time, it’s something you’ve grown to appreciate in the years you’ve been together, but there’s something about the focus he brings when he’s cooking, the confidence he exudes and the satisfied grin he gives you with every new dish he’s able to indulge you with.

Osamu looks good. Too good.

You watch from your perch on the counter, munching on some of the spare ingredients he set aside for you as he puts the finishing touches on the newest dish, made especially for you with your special tastes in mind. Something for the restaurant, something named in your honor and based on the recipes of your fiancé’s that you’ve grown to adore.

His tongue pokes out just slightly in focus, adamant to get the dish absolutely flawless in his mind as he adds a final sprinkle of seasoning, followed by a dramatic placement of a garnish. You snort, "I'll feel bad if i ruin it now, babe."

"You've never ruined anything once in our relationship," Osamu is quick to assure, beaming up at you as he passes the new recipe to you. "Alright. Dig in."

You use your chopsticks to grab the perfect bite, sauces and crisp veggies exploding flavor on your tongue. You mewl happily, nodding along with your bite while your fiancé waits eagerly for your answer. "Miya Osamu..."

"Yes?"

"That might replace my top spot," you purr, and he grins wider. "This is incredible."

"Thank you angel," he says excitedly. You eat more of the dish, humming in delight for the taste before putting the plate to the side and wiping your mouth with a paper towel.

“Compliments to the chef,” you hum.

“Does the chef get a kiss?” Osamu says, puckering his lips out. You of course comply, leaning forwards to press a small peck on his expectant lips. Your arms toss around his neck and his hands find their way to your waist, thumbs stroking the curved bones of your hips. Your legs loosely wrap around his waist, keeping him close.

“Chef’s gonna get a lot more than a kiss,” you purr. “Chefs gonna get the head of his lifetime tonight.” You press one more kiss to his lips as he processes your words, and you laugh as his once blissed expression morphs into one of absolute shock for the vulgarity. Your legs tighten around him, forcing him close to you.

“Babe!”

You grin, “gonna rock his world. Send him into the stratosphere, y’know?”

“Oh my god!” He laughs, slowly pushing you back. “You dirty, dirty flirt!”

"Oh, I'm not flirting," you tease. You look him up and down, "not a flirt if its a promise."

"Do I need a safeword?" He laughs, letting you tug him close once again with your legs. His big hands find their way to your waist once more, lips sponging down your neck in excitement.

"You might."

[qardenofeden]

contrary to popular belief, osamu miya is not any better than his twin brother, especially when he’s with you.

this must be your fourth date this month, and it’s barely even two weeks in. so, in order to save money, osamu proposes a little life hack. a cheat code, if you will.

“baby, i got this ring at a pawn shop,” he takes a small, rusty ring from his pocket and presents it to you as he continues, “i’ll pretend i’m proposin’ to ya and all ya gotta say is yes, okay? free dinner, easy peasy.”

you sigh, holding back your laughter as you pinch your temple. “‘samu, that’s unethical.”

“whaaaat? no way, come on, baby. we’ll get to go on dates more often if we do this,” he says, and you know you shouldn’t say yes. you should be the angel in this scenario, guiding him towards the right path. the path of the just and the good.

...but then again, why would osamu date you if you weren’t at least a tiny bit similar in terms of thinking?

“fine.”

“hells yeah!” he celebrates, looking around and waiting for one of the staff members to enter your vicinity. luckily, it doesn’t take long until a blonde girl walks to the table next to yours and starts cleaning up the leftover dishes the previous party has left behind.

osamu looks at you, grinning before he gets off the chair and gets on his knee. you cup your mouth with both your hands, seemingly in shock; though in reality, you’re doing it to prevent yourself from laughing like a madman.

“my sweet, beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend. i’ve loved you since i’ve known you, and i’ll love you for as long as i do. will ya marry me?”

and the restaurants’ guests just eat. it. up. the crowd cheers, much like how they do in his games, and they chant “yes, yes, yes!”

“yes!” you burst out in laughter, jolting out of your seat and hugging him. he lifts you up slightly before putting you back to the ground and kissing you, lips soft and at your mercy.

osamu puts a ring on your finger as the crowd yells and howls, and later that night, the manager approaches the two of you and tells you not to worry about the bill.

atsumu’s been rubbing off on your boyfriend too much.

and so this becomes a ritual, though you’re both careful not to overuse it. you reserve it for anniversaries and small celebrations, like his team winning a big tournament or you getting a high score from a grumpy professor.

and though it doesn’t always work, you guys at least get a little dessert on the house.

until one day, when you’re a high end, fancy restaurant. you’re wearing a silk, red dress with so much jewelry, you’re practically shining. the chandelier lights reflect off of his rolex watch, and you both have just finished eating.

“this place is really good, osamu. we should come here more often.” you take a sip of the wine, drinking in delight.

“yeah... hey babe, what’s that?” he points behind you and you turn immediately in curiosity.

“...huh? ‘samu, i don’t see anything,” you turn back around to face him, but lo and behold, osamu miya is down on one knee.

your eyes look around in shock, clearly taken aback. “wha— babe, we didn’t plan this?!”

“i know,” he chuckles, pulling out a ring similar to the one he bought at the pawn shop, except brighter, cleaner. with more diamonds than you could ever even imagine. “my love, i’ve loved you since i’ve known you, and i’ll love you for as long as i do. will ya marry me?”

sure is a good thing osamu’s got practice.

@deardoelle mwah

[dearru]

boyfriend texts | o.miya

₊˚ෆ thinking about random texts with your loving boyfriend, osamu miya. | fluff (sfw) | gn!reader x ts!osamu | mlist

—a/n: i absolutely hate these, but i feel guilty for not posting so i hope you enjoy!! i just got back from traveling and i start a new full-time position on monday, but im going to try my best to work on my mini event! i rlly miss being active on tumblr :(

[freshlyboughtgoldfish]

Atsumu bursts into the room 

“[Name]! Are you seriously gonna marry my brother?! I thought it was a joke!” He yells at you after he comes barreling into the room. 

It was the night before you and Osamu were going to be married. You open your mouth to respond before Osamu comes barreling into as well but unlike his brother he has his eyes set on Atsumu. 

Osamu lunges and takes Atsumu down and tries to pin him to the ground. And Atsumu in a panic starts yelling.

“I mean I like you, and I’m excited to have a sister but like… you’re gonna have kids!! He can’t be trusted around kids!” 

Osamu pushes and shoves Atsumu while they writhe together on the floor. 

“Shup your trap Sumu!”

Atsum yelps as he feels and elbow dig into his kidney but doesn’t relent. 

“He made me eat worms, and he chased me with wasps. And you think that’s an appropriate man to be raising kids with???” He gets out while trying to get his twin off of him. 

“Sumu, I like your brother, he’s such a great guy and I’m excited to marry him.” You say gently like you’re trying to calm a feral cat. 

“He tried to stab me with knives! He can’t be that nice.” He pants, finally extracting himself from Osamu’s grip. 

He gets off the ground and dusts himself off dramatically and makes his way to the door. He gives you a pained look. “Well if he makes you happy…” he says reluctantly. “Just know that if he gives you a gummy worm don’t believe him.”

And with that his gives Osamu a solid kick in the side before bolting out of the house. You watch your fiancé chase him out of the house and hear a car peel out of your driveway. 

Osamu comes back in and collapses down next to you. 

“So did you actually feed him worms?”

“…he was a very gullible kid. I got him like 4 times.”

“…that’s… oh…”

inspired by this ticktock. Here

[bokutoko]

OSAMU loves you like it’s breathing.

sure, you might be cranky in the morning before your first cup of coffee. that’s why he makes sure he has your favorite mug already underneath the keurig machine.

“samu, i’m about to kill somebody.”

“that’s real unfortunate, darlin'," he answers as he presses the 12 oz button to brew your coffee.

and of course, you might return home late, weary and drained—physically, mentally, and emotionally—from work. when you’re quiet, too quiet, he knows the thoughts in that pretty brain of yours are getting a little too loud, and with a soft sigh, he guides you to the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower or bath.

and while you rest your mind, he prepares your comfort meal, knowing it’ll ease your mind, even if just slightly.

“you didn’t have to do all this,” you’d whisper after dinner as you both sit on the roof of the building, watching the stars.

looking down at you, he’d just give you that same soft, crooked smile that always brings one to your own face with the same gentle words: “i know. i wanted to.”

ever such a stubborn human... "i know i can be a lot."

"good thing i can't ever get enough of ya."

so when you feel difficult to love, osamu is always there to remind you that it's easy and innate, like how your heart beats in your chest and pumps blood through your veins. you’re in his heart, in his veins.

hell, you are his heart, and he'll continue to prove to you that you deserve it—brewing your coffee and cooking you supper for the rest of your loving, quiet days together.

a/n: such a gentle, patient man… sigh

masterlist | navigation

please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2025.

[evamame]

osamu tattoos your daughter’s name on his wrist when she’s born. the day of her birth was an absolute miracle for him, being able to hear her cries and hold her fragile figure in his arms for the first time. as a way to show off his undying love for his little angel, he gets her name inscribed in small cursive letters across his right wrist. now he can carry her with him to work, smiling to himself at the thought of her adorable babbles and loud giggles every time he catches sight of it while shaping onigiri. his daughter is one of the most precious things on earth to him—coming up second just right after you—so his small tattoo is a homage to his overflowing love for her. it’s a way to commemorate every grabby motion she makes for him to pick her up, every stumble as she determinedly tries her best to walk, and every hand wave followed by a yell of “papa!” when he arrives home that fills his heart with an overwhelming warmth.

[megapteraurelia]

miya osamu wasn't disappointed often.

so if anybody asked you, you couldn't even describe his expression from memory. you'd shrug your shoulders and pity the person who was at the receiving end of the faint downturn of his mouth, the slight furrow of his dark eyebrows over eyes that held dullness you knew so rarely, heavy and cast away. averting your eyes, the image settling like a clear memory, you thought that you wish you wouldn't be able to paint a picture of it now.

"it's not fair," you mumble, and his fingers felt careful and soft around your hand, the pressure on your flesh a reminder that your skin was no longer yours, that it was a part of him and one he refused to give up, "you're always the one. why can't it be me too?"

the kitchen was quiet, the ticking noise of the clock like an echo swinging from your end to his, and his lips pressed together, a faint line that made you want to smooth it out quickly lest it burned itself on his features.

"i don't care about fairness if ya get hurt," his voice was rough like it was straining to sound kind, but that wasn't possible — you knew nothing but kindness in the way he existed, and you felt it when he sighed against your temple and when his hand smoothed out the tape on the curvature between thumb and finger, "why did ya even think you had to surprise me with anythin'?"

"because you always cook for me, and you slave away for hours here like it doesn't matter, and—" you could feel yourself get upset, chest tightening like it might force all the taste-testing up your throat and out in the world, escaping the small confines of the prison that was your heart, "—and i wanted to share some of the burden."

miya osamu wasn't confused often.

he took things he didn't understand with a shrug found in the curl of his mouth, in the mildly interested look permeating his eyes and a quiet willingness to wait it out, but now his eyebrows wandered up, and his lips parted as if you managed to steal his response from him. when he gathered his wits, it was with an exclamation of offence, "the hell are ya talkin' about, sweetheart?"

you refused to answer, and the callouses on his hand were like a love tap against your jaw when osamu cradled it, forcing you to look up, right into stormy grey, wild with the need to drill into your head how desperate he was to defend this part of him that he'd forever selfishly wear proudly, with the need to simply make you understand, "ya think takin' care of ya is a burden? it's a matter of pride. bein' able to say that i fed you well, that you're satisfied, fully, with food i made is somethin' i'll never let anyone take from me. not even you."

miya osamu was angry often.

at atsumu usually, granted. but you saw it often enough to recognise the passion crinkling around his eyes, the curl in his nose, the almost bared teeth behind the angry curve of his lips like he was ready to bite to prove his point to his brother, but what atsumu never would see is the little pleading frown right in between osamu's eyebrows when he looked down at you, the almost tremble in his hand as he brought your injured hand up to his mouth to place a token of his love onto your skin, the exhale that caressed your cheeks.

and miya osamu was relentless often; in the steadiness of his hand, in his quiet strength of affection, in how he poured his being into you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

TAGLIST | @takes1 ; @classicalelephant ; @pomigranit

inspired by slide #2 of @sodaneko's smau mine mine mine and therefore also dedicated to my best lovergirl (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[clawsdevour]

then sit

wc: 0.5k content warning: post-time skip, established relationship, osamu x reader, little suggestive, argument and making up, not proofread.. this is ass and should've stayed as an idea cuz it highk corny asl T_T anyways i love osamu

❤︎ . ・。

a way you and osamu tend to end your useless arguments always end up in situations where you're straddled between his big and muscular body, often whimpering his name. or maybe he ends up between your legs, sending you waves of pleasure to contrast the heated debate you two just had.

there was no perfect solution to your arguments unless one of you stepped up and made the first move, a loss at heart but who were you to care. thus often leads to you both forgetting about what you were arguing about in the first place—a win is a win.

"there is no way you just served them that onigiri you dropped on the floor osamu, that's a health hazard!" you lectured your husband with a scrunched-up face to show your disgust the moment he told you his "funny" story from work that day.

"do you not know about the five second rule babe? it was just a speck of rice that fell, not the whole onigiri.." osamu defended himself despite knowing it was a clump of rice rather than a 'speck.'

"you gotta know that the five second rule is NOT real!! and that the bacteria on the floor already touched the rice."

crossing your arms across your chest, and leting out a loud sigh of frustration, you stood tall while osamu observed your body language from the couch.

his eyes are big and droopy with concern while his 'joke' started to sink in and that he could've put his customers at risk, even though he has that mentality of 'what they don't know won't hurt them.'

osamu's slouching into the couch, still in his work clothes while you gave him an earful on practicing safety measures in the kitchen.

overall, you can't mess up while you're at the top of the chain. if his customer got sick from that, osamu might receive a bad rating on his restaurant for some tummy ache because of the 'five second rule.'

"okay okay.. i get it. i won't let even a speck of rice touch the floor again and mash it back into the onigiri 'cuz it's a health hazard," osamu said in a taunting voice, not realizing he sounded very sarcastic, fueling your anger further.

"are you serious right now, osamu? did you not hear a thing i said?" it feels like you're about to explode with anger, talking to him in that moment was like talking to a brick wall.

"wait babe—i didn't mean to say it that way!" osamu acted with haste, grabbing onto your forearm before you were able to walk out of the living room. his grip was firm and the sudden swift movement made you stop completely in your tracks even though you were just about to stomp out in anger.

"stop, i can't stand you right now," you said while observing his expression change into worry which made you feel a bit bad for lecturing him over something stupid.

"if you can't stand me... then sit on me" his brown eyes turning stern, like he's looking straight through you. his brows were furrowed and his grip was harder than metal, despite pulling you in with tenderness.

there's no way the guy you married was for real right now.. but when is he ever?

masterlist here

[chattemagique]

tw: mostly fluff, slightly suggestive, man is weirdly jealous about your lower stomach, fem! bodied reader, all characters are 18+

men who are obsessed with your lower belly who find it so enticing and pretty, who never understood why would you even be insecure about it when it literally drives them crazy

he's never leaving a chance of placing his hand or gently grabbing onto it whenever you both are together, whether you're wearing something tight-fitting that's accentuating that lower part or your body or whether you are spooning together his hand always travels to it

God forbid you wear something cropped that exposes that part of your body, you're basically asking him to give more attention to it he might even start to think that it's because of his lack of affection to it you wore it so it would attract other people no! he wants to have it all to himself!

so let him compensate this time for all of the other moments when he hasn't given you enough love!

let him squeeze it, smooch it, caress it, grab it! it is just so precious!

it is just so adorable, so pretty, so squishy, the way it stands out on your body, how it's so soft and warm, appealing to him

he loves to place tender kisses on it, sometimes leaving a hickey, when he's feeling extra freaky

his hand always serves as a heat pad for your belly whenever you are on your period that's strangely brings you sense of comfort and security

just as you lay in bed after long day you can expect his hand crawling into your lap, gently embracing your lower stomach as he's whispering sweet nothings to your ear as you both fall asleep

( ˘ ³˘)♥ kuroo tesurou, tendou satori, hinata shoyo, suna rintarou, osamu miya, eijiro kirishima, bakugo katsuki, hawks, tomura shigaraki, choso kamo, yuuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, kyojuro rengoku, sanemi shinazugawa, genya shinazugawa, tanjiro kamado, inosuke hashibira, douma, akaza, gyutaro, denji

[haikyu-mp4]

Secret circle – technically Kita x reader wc 301 – gn!reader

Imagine you’re the Miya twins’ older sibling. The three of you have gathered for your start-of-the-year secret-sharing session. Sitting in a circle and holding each other’s hands, as per tradition, you all glance at each other anxiously while chanting the stupid oath you made many years ago. What secrets will be revealed this year?

It’s a known fact that any Miya is terrible at keeping secrets, and so you made this tradition while growing up where you would share something every January to let the burden of the secret off your chest.

Now the twins are in their second year of high school and you’re in your third. It’s time for your last secret circle before you inevitably move somewhere else for college, as your brothers have been trying to prepare themselves for.

Taking deep breaths, you move a hand to start the countdown of ten seconds on your phone before hurriedly grabbing Osamu’s hand again.

As the time nears zero, you’re all red in the face and not entirely sure if you’re ready, but here it goes…

“I’m quitting volleyball after high school!” Osamu yelled, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’m bisexual!” Atsumu squeaked dramatically, nodding as if in response to his own secret.

“I’m dating Kita!” you admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Dinner’s ready!” your mother announced from downstairs, but there was no peaceful dinner that day. You barely made it past the bedroom door before Osamu had your ankle in a clutch, pulling you back in while you yelled for your mom‘s help. Meanwhile, Atsumu had Osamu in a headlock and ultimately pulled all three of you back into the twins’ shared bedroom.

You almost missed the years when the worst confession was that someone liked the taste of boogers.

There’s no denying this was your favourite tradition ever.

masterlist

[cosmic-evening]

MIYA OSAMU was the biggest foodie you knew.

it was the main reason why he'd learnt how to cook — he absolutely adored exploring new recipes, trying new cuisines, learning new techniques.

you, on the other hand, were the pickiest eater osamu knew (or so he claimed).

on your first date, you'd spent ages poring over the menu, looking over each ingredient to make sure you would enjoy it. anchovies in the pasta? no, you weren't feeling them today. pickles in the burger? absolutely not — in no world would you even go near them. mushrooms? no way, are you joking?

you'd laughed it off the first few times — actually, it was more osamu laughing at you — before you worked out a system.

it was the third or fourth date, where you'd sighed and said, "i'd get this pizza if it didn't have olives on it."

osamu was already used to your antics. "just order it and give 'em to me. we've already wasted enough time waitin' for ya to order."

"i don't understand how you can just eat this stuff," you muse, half to yourself.

"i think ya just need better taste, babe."

needless to say, since then, osamu's diet increased exponentially with the food you didn't like to eat.

hq m.list | gen m.list

a/n: i've been so busy that this is the first thing i've written in a month 😭😭 and this is totally not me just self-projecting oopsies

[emmyrosee]

Osamu keeps his ringer on at night.

It’s moreso for his own sake of mind than anything else, once he started living on campus he felt completely out of the loop from everything that could be going on at home. He likes to be updated, his mother knows that and does, and if Atsumu ever needs him, he’s got an immediate way of knowing.

But tonight, Osamu is regretting keeping his ringer on.

His phone, for the past half hour, was buzzing against his mattress, having woken him up and kept him now from drifting back to sleep. someone’s been calling him, texting him, sending his phone into a frenzy trying to keep up with the notifications.

And listen- he knows he should be panicked, with the ferocity his phone is exploding.

But it’s you. You’re texting him. You told him you would if you couldn’t fall asleep. You always do when you can’t fall asleep.

There’s a brief moment that doesn’t really linger as Osamu curses the gods for whatever mischief they pulled to make you two be in love, but it disappears as the thought turns into one of gratefulness- after all, you trust him with your comfort. How could he not be ecstatic?

His sleepy hand paws next to his head for the buzzing phone, grabbing it and squinting at the brightness. On screen is a phone call, and the display picture is you mid-bite of a sandwich.

His two favorite things.

He presses the green answer button and brings the device to his ear. “Text me again, and I’ll fart on your pillow next time I come over.” It’s a playful threat, one he knows you relax at with amusement, but you say nothing else of it in an attempt to keep the needy facade.

“‘Samu?” You whine, and he chews his lip to fight the smirk that wants to reside on his face.

“It’s 2:45 in the morning, freak.”

“I can’t sleep,” you pout.

“I can.”

You choose to ignore him again, not that he’s surprised, “what would it take for you to come over and keep me company?”

In reality, not a whole lot. You know he knows that, and Osamu cannot stand you milking that for your own gain. He groans and pretends to contemplate it for a minute, his large hand scrubbing his face. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sleepy.”

“How about pancakes and a Jurassic Park marathon?” You coax, and suddenly osamu is very awake.

His grey eyes flip open and his legs swung out from his bed, “don’t toy with me.”

“Osamu, you know I never toy when it comes to pancakes and Jurassic Park.” It’s silent on both ends for a moment, only short, relaxed breathing coming on your end, and osamu can practically feel the warmth of your smile through the phone.

He clicks his tongue, “I’ll be over in 10.”

“Bring my favorite blanket.” With that, you hang up the phone and leave him with a smile etched cheekily on his face, rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his palm before he stands up, pulls socks over the edge of his sweatpants and toes on some slides, stretching and pawing sleepily for the key to his dorm.

He knows he won’t be back for a few hours.

And to be very honest, for you? He doesn’t really mind.

[lynnaredfield3383]

"What were you thinking, Samu?"

You gently dabbed the cuts on his knuckles with cleanser. A sharp hiss escaped his split lip.

"Protecting ya."

You met his steel eyes and found yourself smiling. Why was he so kind and always willing to risk himself for you.

"I can handle myself."

Osamu looked at the ground while you applied ointment to his busted hand.

"I know. Doesn't mean I don't wanna fight fer ya," he spoke softly.

Your fluid movements hesitated and then continued. Osamu was sincere, and the way it gripped your heart terrified you.

"Do you always have to make me melt?" You grumbled, putting away the first aid kit.

When Osamu stood he took up most of your bathroom. His shoulders alone occupied most of the space.

"Nah. But I like it," Osamu smiled, motioning for you to exit before him.

You moved to the living room, some movie playing. The couch looked so inviting and Osamu was always warm.

"Why don't you stay tonight? It's late."

It was a lame excuse, but Osamu didn't care if it meant he could be with you.

"Ya sure? I can crash at Suna's place."

"Yes. Besides, I gotta make sure my boyfriend doesn't do anything else stupid."

Osamu hesitated.

"Boyfriend? Not yer ex?"

You turned and looked up at him wondering why you'd ever left him.

"Boyfriend. Only if you want me back."

"Hell yeah," Osamu nearly whooped before taking your mouth with his. "Ow, ow...Not my best idea," Osamu chuckled pulling back.

[dearru]

has anyone ever considered timeskip!osamu with a stress baker significant other…im sure someone has…but im considering it heavily rn. | mlist

“whatcha makin’ hon?” osamu’s voice drifts into the kitchen as he walks in. his hair’s slightly disheveled and his boxers hang lowly from his hips. coming up behind you, he wraps his arms around your waist and peeks to catch a glimpse of your work.

“nothing, ‘samu,” you mumble, focused on incorporating the dry ingredients into the wet instead of the feeling of your boyfriend’s sturdy chest pushing into your back.

“smells good,” he murmurs sleepily, pressing his lips to your neck, breathing in your scent, “ya need help?”

you shake your head, continuing to stir, “go back to bed, sorry to wake you.”

he purses his lips together, squeezing you a bit tighter, “let me keep ya company. i know yer bakin’ cause yer stressed.”

you mix a little harder, “not true.”

he hums, amused, “cmon, ya only pull out the bakin’ soda at this hour when times ‘re tough.”

it sounds like he’s making fun of you, but his soft tone gives his concern away. his hands rub comforting circles against your sides, and the feeling disarms you for a moment, allowing for him to abruptly grab the whisk from your hand.

you squeak, immediately lunging for the utensil— but osamu’s faster, “give it back!”

“we don’t have to talk ‘bout it right now, but ya gotta let me help ya with this at least,” he murmurs, grabbing the bowl and starting to stir for you, “i’ll finish this part up if ya wanna start makin’ some frostin’.”

he stirs with a practiced expertise, and you feel a surge of affection as you watch him. you smile softly, stress long forgotten, “love you.”

eyes glimmering, he glances at you, “love ya too.”

—a/n: osamu brain dump even tho i fw his brother more

[sweetlyvibe]

𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗕𝗘𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗡

PAIRING : Osamu Miya x F!Reader ,

GENRE : angst/comfort

WC: 2.5k

SUMMARY : Osamu Miya always felt second to his brother, Atsumu, especially in love. But when you confess your feelings to Osamu, he’s shocked—especially when he discovers Atsumu likes you too.

CONTENT/WARNINGS : Insecurity, love triangle, jealousy, emotional conflict, unrequited love, use of y/n, Imk if i missed anything!

Osamu Miya wasn’t one to get hung up on things. Life was simple for him—school, volleyball, helping at the family restaurant. He wasn’t chasing after big dreams like his twin brother, Atsumu, who wanted to be the best setter in Japan. No, Osamu was content with keeping things balanced. It was probably why everyone gravitated toward Atsumu more than him, and he was fine with that. At least, he used to be.

But it started to sting a little when it came to you.

Every time he saw you laughing at one of Atsumu’s jokes, or worse, when he caught his brother bragging about how you looked at him during practice, it was like a knot in his stomach that wouldn’t loosen. Osamu knew Atsumu had charm, that magnetic pull that brought people in effortlessly. Atsumu would get confessions left and right, girls practically fawning over him, while Osamu stayed on the sidelines. Not that it bothered him most of the time—those girls didn’t even bother to learn the difference between the two.

But you weren’t like most girls. That’s what made it harder for him. And maybe that’s why Osamu was convinced you’d never look at him the way you looked at Atsumu.

Because who would?

Osamu couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he realized he liked you more than he wanted to admit. It was probably one of those quiet moments after practice, when you smiled at him like he was the only one in the room. But then, without fail, Atsumu would butt in with his usual confidence, and you’d shift your attention back to his brother. Osamu would shrug it off, pretending like it didn’t matter, like he didn’t notice the way Atsumu’s eyes lit up whenever he saw you.

As much as it bothered him, Osamu didn’t hate his brother for it. Atsumu was his twin, after all. They didn’t talk much about feelings, but Osamu could tell that Atsumu liked you too. That should’ve been enough to stop him from getting his hopes up. Atsumu was always the one people chose—why would this time be any different?

Osamu tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter. He was fine just being your friend, having quiet conversations with you when Atsumu wasn’t around to steal the spotlight. But the more he thought about it, the more it felt like he was stuck in his brother’s shadow, unable to step out and tell you how he really felt.

He wasn’t flashy like Atsumu. He didn’t have the same loud confidence, the same need to be seen by everyone. And maybe that’s why he believed he didn’t stand a chance with you. You were friendly with him, sure, but so was everyone else. To Osamu, he was just the other Miya twin—the quieter one, the one you probably didn’t see in the same way.

The day everything turned upside down started off like any other. It was a slow morning after practice, and Osamu was heading to the lockers to grab his things. His mind was still on the game—what they could’ve done better, how Atsumu had nagged at him for missing a spike, the usual banter. He didn’t even notice the small piece of paper sticking out of his locker until he was pulling out his shoes.

At first, Osamu thought it was some leftover flyer from the school festival or something, but when he opened it, his stomach dropped.

It was a letter.

A love letter.

Osamu stared at it, his mind struggling to catch up. The neat handwriting spelled out his name, and a few lines below, a simple but direct confession. His heart started beating faster than he wanted to admit, and for a second, he wondered if this was some kind of joke. Him? Getting a love letter?

But then, he saw the name at the bottom.

Your name.

Osamu blinked, rereading it, making sure he wasn’t hallucinating. But there it was, in your handwriting, as clear as day. You liked him?

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to think. All this time, Osamu had convinced himself that you were like everyone else, that you probably had a crush on Atsumu like most people did. But this letter—it was real. You liked him, not his brother. It was like the ground had shifted beneath him, leaving him standing on unsteady footing.

A part of Osamu felt guilty. He knew Atsumu liked you—he could see it in the way his brother tried to impress you, how he talked about you after practice like you were someone special. And here Osamu was, holding the proof that you liked him instead.

Later that day, when Osamu saw you, his heart did this strange thing, like it couldn’t decide whether to race or stop entirely. You didn’t seem different, didn’t act any different. You were just you, smiling at him like you always did when you passed by.

Osamu thought about how easy it would be to just pretend he never saw the letter. Maybe it would be better for everyone. He could ignore it, let you and Atsumu have a shot at each other. Atsumu was better at this sort of thing—more confident, more open. He wouldn’t hesitate like Osamu was doing now. Maybe it was selfish for Osamu to think he deserved your attention.

But then he remembered the way your handwriting had spelled out his name, how you’d written that you liked him, not Atsumu. And that was enough to push him to act.

Osamu found himself waiting for you after class. His nerves twisted in his stomach the whole time, but when you finally came out, you looked surprised to see him standing there.

“Hey,” Osamu said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Can we talk for a second?”

You raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Sure, what’s up?”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the folded letter. “I found this… in my locker.”

Your eyes widened when you saw the letter, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Osamu couldn’t read your expression, and he didn’t know what to expect. Did you regret it? Was it a joke? Had you written it by mistake?

“I… I didn’t know if I should bring it up,” Osamu admitted, unsure of how to navigate the situation. “But… is it real? Like, do you really…?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down, nodding. “Yeah, it’s real. I wasn’t sure if you’d see it, or if you’d even want to talk about it, but… yeah.”

Osamu’s heart was pounding. This was real. You really liked him. After all the doubts, after convincing himself that you were just like everyone else, you had chosen him.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t think you’d feel that way about me.”

You smiled, a small, gentle smile that made Osamu’s heart race all over again. “Why wouldn’t I? I like you because you’re you, Osamu. You’re thoughtful, calm, and funny in a way that doesn’t need attention. You don’t try to be anyone else. I like that. I like you.”

Osamu could hardly believe what he was hearing. The words didn’t feel real, like they belonged in someone else’s life. Yet here you were, standing in front of him, looking at him with eyes that said you meant every word.

“I like you too,” Osamu finally managed to say, the words clumsy but honest. “I just didn’t think I had a chance.”

You stepped a little closer, your voice soft but clear. “Well, now you know. You do.”

The next few days passed in a blur, Osamu floating through them with a mixture of disbelief and happiness. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, about the fact that you had chosen him. For the first time, he didn’t feel like he was just the other Miya twin. He was someone you saw, someone you liked.

But there was something nagging at the back of his mind. Atsumu. He hadn’t told him yet, and he wasn’t sure how to. Osamu knew his brother better than anyone. He knew that Atsumu didn’t take rejection well, especially when it came to something he cared about. And even though you hadn’t outright rejected Atsumu, Osamu knew that his brother liked you. A lot.

The storm was coming, and Osamu couldn’t avoid it forever.

It came sooner than he expected. A few days later, after practice, Atsumu cornered him in the locker room, his signature smirk plastered on his face.

“Oi, Osamu,” Atsumu called out, leaning against the lockers. “Guess what? I think Y/N’s about to confess to me.”

Osamu froze, pretending to busy himself with his things. “Oh yeah?” he muttered, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah,” Atsumu went on, oblivious to the tension building. “She’s been hangin’ around me a lot more lately. It’s only a matter of time, I can feel it.”

Osamu’s stomach twisted. He knew this moment was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Atsumu continued talking, his voice filled with excitement. “I’ve been waitin’ for this. I think she’s finally gonna make a move.”

Osamu clenched his fists, his heart pounding. He couldn’t avoid it any longer. “Atsumu… about that.”

Atsumu frowned, his smirk faltering as he noticed the serious tone in Osamu’s voice. “What? You jealous or somethin’?”

Osamu shook his head. “No. It’s just… she already confessed.”

Atsumu blinked in confusion. “She already confessed to me?”

“No,” Osamu said quietly, feeling the weight of his words. “She confessed to me.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Atsumu stared at him, processing what Osamu had just said. Then his confusion shifted into disbelief, followed by a slow dawning of understanding.

“Wait… what?” Atsumu’s voice was quieter now, almost cautious. “You’re tellin’ me… she chose you?”

Osamu nodded, his chest tightening. He didn’t want to hurt his brother, but there was no way around it. “Yeah. She left a letter in my locker. She told me she likes me.”

Atsumu’s face was unreadable for a few seconds, the smirk completely gone now. The playful, teasing edge that usually colored his voice was nowhere to be found.

“So, she… likes you?” Atsumu asked again, his tone flat, like he was still trying to wrap his head around it.

Osamu felt a surge of guilt. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I didn’t plan this, Atsumu. I didn’t think she’d—”

“It’s fine,” Atsumu cut him off, his voice sharp. “You don’t need to explain.”

The air between them grew tense, and Osamu could see the hurt flicker across Atsumu’s face, even though his brother was doing his best to hide it. Atsumu had never been good at dealing with rejection—he thrived on being wanted, on being the center of attention. And now, for the first time, someone had chosen Osamu over him.

Atsumu let out a bitter laugh, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, ain’t that somethin’. Guess I’m not as irresistible as I thought.”

Osamu winced at the sarcastic tone, wishing there was a way to make this easier. He knew Atsumu’s pride was bruised, and no amount of explanation would change that.

“Look, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Osamu started, but Atsumu held up a hand, cutting him off again.

“It’s fine, Osamu,” Atsumu repeated, though his voice was tight with frustration. “You don’t have to explain.”

The silence that followed was heavy, both brothers unsure of what to say next. Atsumu ran a hand through his hair, glancing away as if trying to process everything.

“Guess you finally one-upped me, huh?” Atsumu said with a forced smirk, though the bitterness in his voice was hard to miss.

Osamu wanted to say something, anything to make this less painful, but before he could, Atsumu turned on his heel and headed toward the door. “Don’t worry about it, ‘Samu. I’ll be fine.”

And with that, Atsumu walked out of the locker room, leaving Osamu standing there alone, a mix of relief and guilt swirling in his chest.

The days after that conversation were strange. Atsumu wasn’t the type to stay upset for long, and soon enough, he was back to his usual self, at least on the surface. He still joked around, still bragged and teased, but there was something different in the way he interacted with Osamu. It wasn’t obvious to most people, but Osamu could tell. There was a slight distance between them, an unspoken tension that neither of them wanted to address directly.

But despite the guilt Osamu felt, there was something else too—something warm and undeniable that came from knowing you had chosen him. Whenever he saw you, his heart would race in that unfamiliar, but welcome way. You were still you, kind and thoughtful, treating him the same way you always had, but now there was something more between the two of you. Something real.

Osamu still wasn’t used to it, the idea that you liked him, but he was trying to get there. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he wasn’t supposed to be the one in this position—that Atsumu was supposed to be the one who got your attention, not him. But every time you smiled at him or laughed at one of his dry comments, those insecurities faded a little more.

One afternoon, a few weeks after the confession, Osamu found himself sitting next to you outside the school, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the courtyard. You were talking about something—Osamu wasn’t really paying attention, his mind too busy replaying everything that had happened over the past few weeks.

“Osamu?” you said, nudging him gently. “You’re spacing out.”

He blinked, realizing he hadn’t been listening. “Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just thinkin’.”

You tilted your head, giving him a curious look. “About what?”

Osamu hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should bring it up. But something about the way you were looking at him made him feel like he could be honest. “I still don’t get why you chose me,” he admitted quietly. “I just… I didn’t think I was the type of guy someone would go for. Especially when Atsumu’s right there.”

You frowned slightly, shifting closer to him. “Osamu, I already told you. I chose you because you’re you. Atsumu’s great, but… he’s not you.”

Osamu looked at you, a mixture of surprise and warmth filling his chest. He’d heard you say it before, but each time, it felt like he was hearing it for the first time.

You reached out, gently resting your hand on his. “You don’t have to compare yourself to him. I don’t. I like you for who you are, Osamu. And nothing’s going to change that.”

For the first time in a long while, Osamu felt like he didn’t have to live in his brother’s shadow. You saw him, just as he was, and that was enough.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked at you. “Thanks,” he said softly. “That… means a lot.”

You smiled back, squeezing his hand gently. “Anytime.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Osamu Miya felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

. 🏐 〃 ⋯ TAGGING : : @0samuslove @yoghurtsan @lxdymoon0357 @achy-boo

[evamame]

12:08 am | osamu miya

osamu always takes care of you after you come home drunk from a long night of partying

cw: sfw, fluff, alcohol/mentions of being drunk, fem!reader x osamu miya, established relationship, pet names

wc: 853

masterlist

coming home drunk after a long and eventful night out with your girlfriends to osamu miya, who already has your bed ready with a glass of water on your nightstand. as he hears you fiddling with your keys outside the front door, he hops up from the sofa where he was watching tv and waiting for you to finally arrive home. you stumble through the door in your drowsy state and he quickly leans down to assist you in taking off your heels so you don’t trip over your own feet.

“welcome back hon’,” he greets you softly. he places his hand on the small of your back and guides you to the bathroom, where he already has a fresh pair of your favorite pajamas ready and laid out on the counter. he lifts you up and sits you down on the edge of the smooth granite top, getting micellar water and a cotton pad to take your makeup off. what was once a beautifully put together look now dawns your face with runny mascara and caking foundation, but he still finds you stunning nonetheless.

“did ya have fun?” he questions as he begins gently removing all of the gunk off your face.

you close your eyes and let him work his magic. by now, he’s remembered your skincare routine, and always makes sure to lay out your bottles before you return home so he can get you ready for bed as quickly as possible. maybe it’s just extra relaxing in your drunken state, but it feels like he does it better than you. “yeah, i had lots of fun! we danced a ton, and i got tons of compliments on my outfit from my friends!” you respond happily, but your voice lacks articulation and has an underlying hint of grogginess from your exhaustion, making it a bit hard for him to understand your words.

he smiles amusedly, a barely audible chuckle escaping his lips. “that’s good, ya do look gorgeous.”

he finishes wiping off your makeup with the micellar water, placing the bottle on the counter and discarding the cotton pad in the trash. he moves on to washing your face thoroughly with face wash before moisturizing your skin.

“i can take care of myself. you must be tired having to stay up for me,” you comment.

he shakes his head, voice soft but firm, “i wanted to make sure ya got home safely. plus, yer clearly too worn out to properly take off yer makeup. i doubt ya would’ve done it yourself. and ya should never go to bed with it on, ya know?”

“i know, i know.”

he gives you a nod, satisfied with your answer. he lifts you up and back onto the ground, “turn around for me hon’.”

you comply, and he slowly unzips your dress, letting it fall to the floor. you step out of it, and he helps you put on your pajamas.

“feelin’ better now? a lil’ more refreshed at least, i hope.”

“yeah, i feel much better.” his lips tug into a small smile at your words. he grabs the brush on the counter, holding it up, “come sit. i’ll brush yer hair.”

osamu guides you to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the space in between his legs. you sit on his lap, staring tiredly at the wall ahead as he begins to soothingly run the brush through your hair. the way he ever so gently runs the bristles through your locks is calming. even simples acts of domesticity like these show how much affection and love he has for you, and the way he takes care of you on any and every day conveys more than any words can.

“all done,” he murmurs quietly as he finishes, placing the brush down on the sheets beside him. he runs his fingers gently through your brushed hair for a minute, a comfortable silence falling through the room.

you let out a tired yawn, and then he’s reminded of the task at hand, “let’s get ya to bed now. ya need all the rest you can get.” and with that, he pats your back to tell you to stand up, guiding you to your side of the bed. he helps you to crawl under the covers, tucking you in and making sure you’re comfortable. he tenderly hands you the glass of water he had prepared, making sure you’re holding it steadily before letting go. “take these. and drink all the water. it’ll help ya with yer hangover in the morning,” he instructs, picking up two painkillers and handing them to you.

you pop them in your mouth, downing the glass of water with them. he takes the empty glass from you and sets it back down on the table. then, he smooths out the blanket and presses a quick kiss to your forehead, his voice a low whisper, “goodnight sweetheart. sleep well, m’kay?”

you nod incoherently, clearly drained. he walks around to the other side of the bed and joins you under the sheets as you drift off to sleep.

a/n: i just know he makes you a full course meal for breakfast when you wake up with a pounding headache.

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