#Osamu

[haikyu-mp4]

Overlooked – Nishinoya x reader wc 799 – f!reader, brother!Atsumu, brother!Osamu

Family functions at the Miya household were already causing quite a ruckus, and adding one Nishinoya to the mix was bound to make things rowdier.

You were lounging in the living room, catching up with some family before dinner and making sure that everyone had been properly introduced to Nishinoya. Introducing him as your boyfriend made you grin with pride, but you could only ignore your brother’s gaze for so long.

Not Osamu, he was in the kitchen helping your parents prepare dinner like the angel he is (he’s stealing the food).

“That sounds like so much fun, you guys,” Atsumu cooed after you finished telling your aunt about you and Nishinoya’s most recent journey to New Zealand. “I wish I could live without goals or ambitions, it sounds so freeing. Just travellin’ until ya run out of money.”

Even as you pinned the blonde with an angry look, he completely ignored you in favour of leaning towards your boyfriend.

“It’s too bad ya decided to stop playing volleyball. Ya used to have some potential.”

“Tsumu,” you warned.

Nishinoya squeezed your hand which he had intertwined with his, lifting the other to point cheekily at Atsumu. “Bet you were relieved I wouldn’t be in the league to receive your new hybrid serves.”

“Relieved?” Atsumu huffed in annoyance at your boyfriend’s positive turn. “Would have loved to see that terrified look on yer face again.”

Instead of giving Atsumu the kind of discussion he wanted, and before you could even retaliate on his behalf, Nishinoya turned his approach to the rest of the family members in the room with a bright look in his eyes. “Atsumu and I played against each other in high school and it was one of the first times a serve had me genuinely worried. Luckily, my team had my back when I needed them.”

“Not exactly how I would’ve told that story, but…” You drove your elbow hard into your brother’s side.

Needless to say, Nishinoya had your whole family charmed despite Atsumu’s continuous attempts at undermining his efforts.

Still, you felt the need to address this. He’s your baby brother, after all.

“Hey,” you greeted Atsumu later that evening, in the privacy of the small children’s bench by the old volleyball net in the backyard. “What’s botherin’ ya, buddy?”

He looked down at where he picked some dry skin from his arm, shrugging his shoulders. “Nothin’.”

You smiled. This was exactly what you expected. With an encouraging hum, you scooted closer and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Come ooon, tell your big sis.”

Atsumu sighed, taking a couple more seconds but eventually opening up. “It‘s just… no one here cares that I’m literally a professional volleyball player,” he said first, taking a quick break to confirm that you wouldn’t laugh at him.

“What makes ya think that?”

“It’s always Osamu and his successful restaurants, y/n and her great travels, and now…”

You hummed, glancing over at where you could see Osamu and Nishinoya talking animatedly inside, sharing a plate of leftovers from dinner. “You feel overlooked?”

With his little sniff, you knew you had struck the right chord. “Mhm.” You picked your head up, slinging an arm over his shoulder and shaking him a bit.

“I can’t really speak for the rest of the family, but you know me and your brother are your biggest fans, right?“

He didn’t answer, but you knew he was listening from his affirming nods.

“Sure, we already knew you would play professionally after high school. And yes, we already knew you would get an offer with the team you wanted because you’re just that good.”

You felt satisfied with the ego boost you had given him and ruffled his hair roughly.

“But you don’t need to punch down at my supercool boyfriend!”

Atsumu cursed at you in complaint, pushing you away way too lightly for it to make you move. You giggled loudly, a big fan of how like himself Atsumu still was.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Think we could still get along?”

You snorted, pointing a thumb over your shoulder. “Oh, Yu? He thinks you’re the coolest, he got us all new merch for your next game.”

Atsumu’s eyes welled with tears, something nostalgic washing over him and urging him to crush you in a hug. “I’ll dedicate my best serve to him!”

You groaned in complaint but didn’t fight the squish. “Good to see ya back on track, ya big baby.”

“What’s he cryin’ for now?” Osamu yelled from the door, so you and Atsumu simultaneously flipped him off. “Fine, just know ma’ pulled out yer baby album for Noya!”

“Shit,” you cursed, getting up and gesturing for Atsumu to follow. “Come on, stop whining.”

“Yer so mean to me.”

“It’s good for ya.”

masterlist

requested by dearest @cottonlemonade for my event, anything for you <3

[jay72664]

Thunder

Bang!

A loud crash of thunder rang through the apartment, causing Chuuya to bolt upright.

It was a silly thing to be afraid of, really; a storm.

Chuuya Nakahara, the feared Port Mafia Executive.

Afraid of a little thunder.

Dazai stirred beside him, his arm still curled around Chuuya’s waist.

“What’s wrong?” The brunette asked groggily.

Another loud slap of thunder answered his question.

Dazai sat up, turning on the beside lamp and taking in the ginger’s poster.

He was clenching the bed sheet, his pupils dilated, and his breathing out of whack.

He gently pulled Chuuya to his side.

“It’s okay.” He cooed softly, not at all judgmentally nor teasingly as one might expect.

Another bang of thunder and the smaller man buried himself further against his husband’s side, clutching into his shirt.

“Let’s watch a movie, okay? It’ll distract you.” Dazai reached to grab the remote.

“I don’t wanna keep you up.” Chuuya mumbles, his normally confident and boisterous voice, now quiet and shaky, and he flinches as yet more lightening strikes.

The brunette scoffs, finding his husband’s words absolutely ridiculous. “I owe you for all the sleepless night I’ve given you.”

“Those were different they were-“ He stops as the lightening lights up the room, followed by a loud clap of thunder, and Dazai pulls him against him even more, as if he could shield him from the noise.

“Life or death.” Chuuya finally finishes.

“Doesn’t matter.” Is all Dazai says.

Despite knowing how pointless it was to argue with Dazai in this, he tries anyway.

“It does matter, you should sleep.” Right after saying this however, he takes the remote out of Dazai’s hands.

If they’re gonna watch something, it’s not gonna be some crappy movie Dazai picks.

The brunette smirks, knowing he’s won. “I can’t sleep anyways.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing his darling Chibi was scared.

“You’re a goddamn idiot.” There was no annoyance at all in Chuuya’s words, in fact, he was actually quite happy Dazai was willing to stay awake just because he was a little scared of something stupid.

Bang!

Maybe a lot scared.

[bokutoko]

osamu didn’t really have a favorite color.

it wasn’t until he saw you after school one chilly autumn day, your face lighting up with the question, “is that jacket new, ��samu?”

he nodded—he didn’t think too much of it when he got it for his birthday, so he surely didn’t expect anyone else to notice. “a gift from ma.”

“i like it, it’s my favorite color,” you took in his full appearance, your eyes looking him up and down, “it suits ya.” a cackle escaped you at osamu’s flustered face, only growing louder with him grumbling, “shaddup.” osamu’s biggest tell was always his accent thickening, and you knew it.

as winter came, osamu found himself wearing that same jacket to and from school every day, ignoring atsumu’s relentless “whadda simp” comments, as a part of him hoped you’d one day be chilly enough to need his coat.

and when that day came, with his jacket hugging your figure as you nuzzled in his leftover body heat, osamu found it hard to breathe.

in that moment, he realized he’d found his new favorite color—yours.

a/n: sorry osamu if reader’s favorite color is pink😔 bro’s looking like pepto-bismol.

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please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2024.

[kitasuno]

with you, i'm first | miya osamu x reader

in which miya osamu is used to coming second to his brother. but with you, he's always first.

wc: 1113 | gn!reader | fluff

Miya Osamu is used to coming second. 

It starts with Atsumu, like most things do. October is cold and gray and Atsumu comes first, a small body with a large presence that fills the warm hospital room. His cries are loud and he’s a little underweight, but with him comes the sun. 

Atsumu is born under a partly cloudy sky but the nurses swear he was shrouded in sunlight. 

Osamu comes twelve minutes later. His parents are crying and his Ma is close to passing out. If he thinks really hard he can almost feel her warmth, Atsumu’s sobs, and a mumble of prayers that October has safely brought Atsumu and then Osamu.

He asks Grandma one day what the weather was like when he was born. She says, with confidence, it was foggy.

Atsumu doesn’t get along with his classmates. He is too loud and too rash and lacks social cues, and Osamu is angry because Stupid ‘Tsumu cares too little: and he wants everyone to know Atsumu like he knows Atsumu.

They fight and they yell and they argue until Atsumu says, 

‘Samu, I don’t care about ‘em. Why do ya care so much? 

And Osamu throws him across the room. The argument ends there, he says sorry, and Osamu lies awake that night thinking about his brother. Atsumu is hotheaded. And an idiot. A loud snorer, too. But he turns on his side and curls into a ball because he knows it was sunny when Atsumu was born and all of a sudden he really wants to be his brother. 

Atsumu dyes his hair first: it’s a shitty box dye from the pharmacy down the street, and it looks terrible. It’s a little yellow and a little neon, and Osamu laughs until his sides hurt when Atsumu shows him. 

But Atsumu is proud, and he is confident, and he goes to school with a hundred watt smile and a group of girls trailing after him. 

Osamu goes to the pharmacy that night and buys a box of gray, cloudy dye. Atsumu helps him bleach his hair under their bathroom sink with the faulty tap and tells him he looks like the moon.

His Ma says that Atsu is hot and Samu is cold after the two have a particularly bad fight. Atsumu is gleeful and smug as he gloats that he was born to be hotter and warmer and better, and Osamu punches him. 

He remembers his Ma sitting on the porch, an arm around his shoulders as he pouts. 

“‘S not fair,” Osamu had said, his chin in his palm. “Why’d ya name Tsumu that?” 

His Ma had laughed, quietly, leaning her weight into his side. And she had held his cheeks between her palms and told him with a fire in her eyes that Osamu means To Rule. 

He meets you for the first time in February. 

You were standing in front of him, a little sheepish, with a box of chocolates in your extended palms. He remembers feeling something heavy in his chest. Because, yeah, Atsumu was definitely going to accept your confession. 

You had said, IReallyLikeYou, and Here’sSomeChocolates, and Please Accept Them. 

You were shorter than him, and your hair was done nicely, and you were blushing and nervous. And you were really fucking cute. But Osamu is used to coming second, so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, Why? And then, Tsumu’s in tha next classroom ov’r. 

He doesn’t remember what happened next, only Atsumu’s laugh and the slap echoing through the halls. You leave with his cheeks stinging and hot. And Atsumu had teased him the next day, behind his mountain of chocolates and confessions, because Osamu’s face was still red twelve hours later. 

He sees you a lot the year after. 

You’re in the same class as him and ‘Tsumu, and you smile every time you see him. You sit two rows in front of him and you’re not very good at tying your uniform. Every lunch, Osamu watches you pull out the same gray bento with a wrapped onigiri on the side. He tells you one day that he really likes onigiri. And then, Osamu watches as every lunch, you pull out the same gray bento with two wrapped onigiris on the side. 

With you, it’s always Hi Osamu, first, and then, Hullo Atsumu. With you, it’s an onigiri dropped on his desk when the lunch bell rings. With you, Osamu thinks back to a conversation with his Ma on a porch. 

Osamu means To Rule.

The menu is this: Tuna mayo on Mondays and Thursdays, Ume on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday is plain. You don’t ever bring onigiri for his brother. 

He asks you, on a hot night in June, what your favorite type of weather is. You had your knees tucked to your chest, a sparkler in hand, and then told him cloudy. Cold. Foggy. Winter. Snow is nice, too. You say it all with no hesitation. 

Osamu kisses you for the first time that night. 

It’s New Years and you’re cooking Ozoni on the stove. The curtains are open, it’s snowing outside, and Osamu wakes to the smell of miso and the sound of carrots on a chopping board. He gets out of bed, padding to the kitchen with half-lidded eyes and a stifled yawn, and then he thinks his heart stops when he sees you. 

Because what Miya Osamu is not used to is this: coming first and having something unequivocally his. 

But you’re bent over the counter, fiddling with the oven as you read the instructions on the back of the packaged Yakimochi you bought the other day. And you’re wearing his shirt, it falls right below your thighs, your hair is still messy from using his chest as a pillow, and you look beautiful. 

“Mornin’ ‘Samu, come help me with this.” You say, looking back at him with a smile, pointing to the fresh pot of rice on the counter. “You’re in charge of onigiri.”

He hugs you instead, his arms around your stomach with your back to him. 

“But I like yer onigiri,” He says, his chin on your head. His eyes are watering and it must be from the steam of your boiling dashi. 

“‘Samu,” You complain, giggling as he presses kisses into the crown of your head. “I made enough for ya in high school.” 

It’s cold outside and snowing, and Osamu knows he’s going to make the onigiri. 

He also knows that if his name means To Rule, he’s okay with coming second if it means you’re by his side.

[makkir0ll]

private chef! osamu x ceo!reader.

you hired him because you had little to no time to make healthy meals, living off of microwave ramen most of the time. incredibly unhealthy so you hired a private chef. you didn't see him often, only in the morning for a couple of minutes as you ate your breakfast and occasionally he would stand across the counter preparing your lunch.

you can't deny that he's cute, brown hair and big biceps that are constricted from his black compression shirt, the way his muscles are flexed every time he moves. his cooking skills are an added plus. you thank whatever angel is watching over you to give you such a hot man who can cook your meals. but obviously, you had to keep it professional but that doesn't stop you from ogling at him and he doesn't notice either so there’s no harm. (he has noticed.)

and he's not one to complain either. he particularly likes it when you come home late. hair in a messy bun, the first couple of buttons from your work shirt unbuttoned a little bit and at certain angles he can get a peek of the lacy black bra you decided to wear that day.

but his top favorite is when you come out of the shower on those late nights, dressed in your victoria secret silk pajama set, hair wet, and cheeks red from the heat of the shower. you smile softly at him as you take a bit of the dinner he cooked that night and he always falls to his knees weak at the sight of your smile rather than the usual scowl on your face due to the annoying people you have to deal with at work.

and when you fall asleep on the couch as he cleans up the dishes he freezes, he's never seen you so peaceful. would it be breaking boundaries to carry you to your bed? no he thinks, i mean you back would hurt if you slept here all night he justifies as he slowly picks you up and places you softly on your bed.

one day he will get to do that and sleep with you in his arms. but right now he had to plan out your breakfast for tommorow.

@cottonlemonade bc it’s infesting my brain

[nickolashx]

Eastern Mind: The Lost Souls of Tong Nou (1994)

Eastern Mind: The Lost Souls of Tong Nou is an unnerving 1994 point-and-click adventure game by Japanese artist Osamu Sato.

Rin wakes up to find that his soul has been stolen by a living island known as Tong-Nou. In his quest to restore his soul, he reincarnates as several different creatures, fulfilling their respective lives.

[novakrouge]

onigiri shop owner osamu miya

[st4ringlow]

miya osamu x reader drabble

osamu hates it when someone else is in the kitchen with him.

he personally thinks its a hassle and slows down the work when there are more than one person in the kitchen. whenever someone offers help, he immediately declines, insisting that he can do it on his own. one time he got super grumpy because atsumu is too stubborn to leave him alone in the kitchen and fucking up the chopped vegetables. thats why he prefers to cook alone.

you, however, he doesnt mind. not that he lets you help him though, but he needs to feel your presence in the kitchen, " 's moral support," he said. he lets you yap while hes cooking, and will give comments and reactions to your conversation. 'oh d'you know about that old lady two houses across?' , 'i think im actually good at cooking, 'm just lazy,' , 'can we go to the ramen diner some time? heard it was good,' , ''m getting fat if you keep feeding me with your cookings,' . you may be quite the conversationalist, but osamu enjoys listening to you.

miya osamu may not enjoy others in his kitchen space, but for you, he would make an exception. even if you poorly chop the ingredients or botch the sautéing by overheating, he'll let it slide.

[toastyyjams]

may i suggest girlfailure fem dazai

[iinoruu]

sweet summer🍒

[cottonlemonade]

Pancakes After Sex

warnings: suggestive, mdni

Pancakes after sex have become somewhat of a staple for you and your husband Osamu. It started off as a weird craving when you began dating. That first time it ever came up was around 2 a.m. and you lay happy and satisfied in his strong arms while he played with your hair and brought your hand to his lips. His fingertips drew lazy patterns over the soft rolls of your hips and tummy and he wished he had as much stamina as he used to in high school to go on further. You were about to drift off to sleep when his stomach growled loudly and once your giggle fit had subsided you offered a short excursion to your kitchen to see what you could scrounge up for your ever hungry caterpillar of a man. Nothing. Not even a stray expired pack of ramen in the back of your pantry.

So Osamu whipped up some pancakes since milk, flour and an egg was at least available. You leaned on the counter, laughing softly and feeding each other bites before heading to bed for a good night’s sleep.

Now you watched your husband in his grey sweats whisking the batter, letting your eyes roam appreciatively over the rippling muscles in his back, so very glad he left his shirt on the floor where you’d tossed it a few hours ago.

Osamu makes the best pancakes and he is always happy to serve you a midnight snack.

[shoyospikes]

I hope the haikyuu fandom never dies

that's all thanks for coming to my ted talk goodnight everyone

(⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

[haikyu-mp4]

I want one – Suna x reader wc 491 – f!reader

When babysitting Osamu’s twins for a weekend, you had expected Suna to get a little baby fever. You hadn’t spoken about children in a while, but you both love it when cute kids come up on your nightly TikTok scroll and both agreed you wanted them eventually.

Osamu’s twins were adorable and you felt the baby fever heating up only on the first day.

What you didn’t expect was for Suna to rush into the bathroom where you were brushing the girl’s teeth, the boy under his arm and a bright grin on his face. “These are amazing, I want one. No, I want four.”

You blinked at him, the little girl by your side doing the same in confusion.

Suna made an incredulous sound and pointed at her. “Those too!”

Your jaw dropped and you covered the poor girl’s ears as a joke, using a nod of your head to gesture to the boy in Suna’s arms. “What did he do? Also, why are you carrying him around like a sack of rice?”

The boy held up a Hot Wheels car and shrugged his shoulder as best as he could. “We were just playing with my toys.”

When the twins had gone to bed, you found Suna in the kitchen doing a pretty bad job with the dishes. Clearing your throat made him look over his shoulder and speak his mind. “Is eight too many?”

You snickered and snuck your arms around his waist, leaning your cheek on his muscular back. “Definitely. Maybe three?”

Suna sighed and shook the water off his hands, seemingly deciding to leave the rest of the dishes for now. “Can you imagine helping our own daughter brush her teeth? She looks like both of us and either takes after our hobbies or loathes them?” he ranted, using his hands to gesture in the most nonsensical way.

The thought made your heart flutter, actually taking the time to consider that image. “She’ll be such a brat, being your daughter.”

“She’ll be so cool!” he exclaimed in presumed agreement. “And imagine our son, he would gather blackmail on his iPad and use it to make his sister help him out of trouble. That’s what I did at least.”

“Both will be brats.”

His shoulders started slowly sinking into their normal hunch as the enthusiasm lulled. “I want to make humans with you and see who they turn into. Watch them grow and make terrible decisions while figuring themselves out. I want to be there for them in a way I can’t when I’m just borrowing Osamu’s.”

You caressed his cheek, letting your thumb graze his cheekbone comfortingly. “You are such a weirdo. And our kids will be even weirder.”

“All eight.”

“All three,” you corrected him.

“Three sets of twins.”

“Slow down cowboy, one at a time.” He looked at you with so much adoration, until his eyes turned more mischievous.

“One at a time. Let’s start right away.”

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this is entirely self-indulgent.

[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

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

[qquibb]

yeahhhhh haikyuu hyperfixation coming back. smiles like a maniac . i have a ton of drafts of them being gross bc they're very winter couple to me so look forward to that

[onnie-giri]

flat tire 🚲💢