#Osamu Miya x Reader

[deadwtr]

“MY GIRL” multi

no thoughts, just frat boys with their girlfriends that they're absolutely enamored by

18+, mdni. frat parties, mentions of drinking, reader gets flirted with by some random person idk, character calls reader his girl, fem!reader, third person pov (reader's perspective)

content below cut

she felt the party long before she could see it—the bass pounding deep and steady, a pulse that rattled through her ribs as she walked. 2218 pine drive. even if she hadn’t double checked the address, she was sure she had the right place. the house was practically alive, front yard littered with red solo cups and twenty-something year olds, voices raised over the loud music. lights glowed from every window, shadows shifting inside, the air was thick with the unmistakable mix of cheap beer, sweat, and cologne that made her nose hurt.

despite dating the frat’s president for quite sometime now, she’d never been to any of his parties before. sure, he’d invited her more times that she could count, but she never took him up on it, always finding an excuse and brushing it off with a ‘maybe next time’—until tonight. now, standing in front of his house, seeing his letters displayed proudly above the door, she felt something stir in her chest. a strange mix of curiosity and hesitation. and judging by the sheer size of the crowd, she was beginning to understand just how much of a big deal he was in this world.

his world.

as she reached the front steps, a guy stood at the door; one hand gripping a red solo cup, the other brace lazily against the doorframe like he owned the place, holding a conversation with someone behind him. at her approaching footsteps, he turned to her. he looked at home here—dark hair a little messy, lips curled into a smirk like he’d seen this exact scenario play out multitudes of times. his sharp eyes flicked over her, slow and deliberate in a lazy, appreciative sweep, clearly taking his time.

“well, damn,” he said, slow and easy, dark eyebrows lifting in interest as he pushed off the frame to stand in front of her. “and here i was, thinking i’d already met every gorgeous girl on this campus.”

she rolled her eyes, “i doubt that.”

he smirked, stepping a little closer, just enough to invade her space.

“nah, i’d remember you,” his smirk grew wider. “you’re not a freshman, are you? ‘cause i feel like i should've met you by now.”

“i’m not.”

“even better.” he tilted his head, studying her. “you got a name, or do i just call you the most beautiful girl at this party?”

she sighed in response, “yeah okay, can you just let me through?”

he didn’t move. “you here alone? or is some lucky guy already calling dibs.”

before she could even think of responding, another, much more familiar voice cut through the night. sharp and unmistakable.

“yeah.” her boyfriend said, stepping up behind the dark haired guy, like he’d been watching the whole thing. “she’s my girl.”

the guy at the door immediately straightened, confidence flickering before he let out a slow chuckle.

“shit, man.” he said, lifting his hands in surrender. “didn’t know she was yours.”

he stepped to the side, just enough to her boyfriend slip through. her boyfriend didn’t spare him a second glance, his focus solely on her as he stepped in closer, curling his arm around her waist, fingers pressing warm against her hip. he smelled like laundry detergent and his citrus-y cologne, a faint trace of beer lingered on his skin, but regardless his presence was grounding. familiar.

“you should’ve told me you were coming,” he murmured, voice low as he leaned in, lips barely brushing her ear. “i would've met you outside.”

she tilted her chin up to meet his gaze, a smirk on her face as she whispered back. “and miss the warm welcome?”

his eyes darkened just slightly, grip tightening against her waist.

“funny. didn’t look like you were enjoying it.”

she huffed a quiet laugh. “are you jealous?”

he hummed in response, kissing the shell of her ear before pulling away slightly.

“not jealous,” he said smoothly, but the way his fingers flexed against her told a different story. “just wondering how long i should’ve let that go on before stepping in.”

“and?”

he studied her for a second, letting a smirk grow on his face. “figured you were about to shut him down anyway.”

she raised a brow, a smile forming on her own lips. his fingers traces slow circles against her waist, his voice dipping lower. “but i wasn’t gonna let him think he had a chance.”

“so dramatic.” she rolled her eyes, but the warmth curling in her chest and growing hot in her ears betrayed her.

“mm, i guess. only when it comes to you.”

before she could fire back, he gave her a light squeeze, chuckling under his breath. he tugged her just a little closer before nodding toward the inside of the house. “c’mon. let's have some fun.”

and just like that, with his arm wrapped securely around her, he led her inside, pulling her fully into his world.

touya todoroki, KEIGO TAKAMI, tomura shigaraki / OSAMU MIYA, toru oikawa, tetsuro kuroo, KOUTARO BOKUTO, hajime iwaizumi, KYOTANI KENTARO, atsumu miya, ryuunosuke tanaka, KEISHIN UKAI / dick grayson, JASON TODD, damian wayne, bruce wayne, OLIVER QUEEN / EREN YAEGER, jean kirstein, connie springer, levi ackerman, MICHE ZACHARIUS / suguru geto, SATORU GOJO, kento nanami, toji fushiguro / literally all of toman + your faves

@bokutoko

deadwtr, do not copy or repost

[ilovejeansosomuch]

“MNDI” but you’re writing about a minor?

Notice how all the tags I have are all minors and I’m pretty sure most of the top posts are smut. I’m not saying it’s wrong but how can you restrict minors when THEY are a minor 😭

Edit: another point is i wouldn’t say it’s alright to be writing abt it but you can’t be mad that MINORS are reading about other MINORS

I feel this will either reach the wrong audience or the right one

[lale-txt]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 (𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟕: 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

♫ Middle Kids - Dramamine

I used to be the kid who never wanted to be seen Let people jump all over me, the human trampoline but I got the feeling, I'm stronger on the other side, hey Does that sound okay to you? Sometimes I wanna say to you You are the only reason I believe in anything

✰ 𝐜𝐰: alcohol mention, hints at suggestive topics in pretty much all conversations (this is what you get for freak x freak romance)

⭅ back to m.list

•┈••✦ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

Y/N has been hosting the night market fundraiser for the third year in a row and she's getting more and more confident but will still hide when the local press wants to interview her in person

all self-discipline faltered the moment Y/N laid eyes on Osamu and they both flirted shamelessly in front of all visitors (no food safety rules were broken until they got home)

another tiny maneater mention! turns out Suna is just as obsessed as i am

no cage fight in this chapter, i'm so sorry. the chapter title was just clickbait. i would have loved to see it happen too though

there's still a few chapters left so who knows. Osamu, Oikawa and Omi might end up in one. there is still hope

Osamu: (exists) Oikawa & Omi: i need this man to perish

Iwaizumi tried changing the Seijoh 5 group chat many times but gave up eventually and accepted his fate of being the group's dreamboat

if Y/N hadn't met Osamu, Iwaizumi was thinking about becoming matchmaker for her because he did NOT approve of any of her partners in the past lmao

Soft Launch has always been about bonds to me, so this chapter was dedicated to all the beautiful friendships that exist along with what Osamu & Y/N have <3

✰ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@brithedemonspawn @giasssslife @yuminako @notverymarley @krissiekris

@wyrcan @kentocalls @maybespiderman @uncovered-mad-man @honey-deku

@yukichan67 @dailyakira @morgan-lowell @angee444 @mo072806

@ellouisa17 @toges-cough-syrup @mahalsuya @itsdragonius @bakingcuriosity

@nekomasmngr @spacekedi @nymphsdomain @thatprettybunny @joseimukeaddict

@writing-for-the-hell-of-it @honeytwo @estreya05 @jisookdays @blueballslock

@lonelycrystal-star @weezerbby @iluv-ace @s777athv @kameyyy

@localgaytrainwreck @mirkaaaluv @elliesndg @mollysmovingcastle @weirdgirlbrina

@nobodybutnnoorr @blueflamebimbo @softpia @pet-plasma-bubble @meekydeeks

@realswimshaddy @manhattanstrawberry @sunahyejin @arattaaki @anniewings

taglist open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings ♡)! minors DNI!

[lysaisland]

live like it’s your last

roommate!kuroo who likes to help you. a jar of jam too difficult to open? not a problem!! he’ll bang the edge of it on the corner of a counter, struggle opening it himself, and then hand it back over to you unopened. when you finally open the damned thing, he’ll cackle and say that he loosened it up for you. his volleyball hands were not just for show, he’ll tell you for free with a cheeky smile glued on his face. stuck on an essay? he would know half a coherent sentence on the topic, but still would dedicate his weekend to proofreading, and bouncing off creatively, inane ideas for you, for your essay. he likes the quiet weekends where you two study in your shared living room, on the coffee table with too many stains to count. it’s all too easy to chuck a piece of motivational chocolate at your face. he would watch you, with crinkled eyes, as you roll your own eyes at him, yet follow in his actions, hurling bullets of chocolate straight back. he likes it, he likes it a lot.

roommate!osamu who is so hot, all the time. literally, figuratively and everything in between. you have never ever seen this man wear anything long sleeved, ever. his glorious biceps were world treasures constantly exposed to the unworthy. your roommate would always complain about how the air con was utterly useless, never cool enough, always too warm. all you would ever do, whenever he complained, was absentmindedly nod along, and admire the sight with half-quiet appreciation. you are certain he knows exactly what he’s doing, when he waltzes around the kitchen with an apron on, in place of a t-shirt. the morning sun hits his bare back just right, and the smell of breakfast is nothing less than a slice of heaven. when he turns to you, brown eyes a little wide, but with a smile nevertheless, you swear you died on the spot. he offers you a plate, and tells you to ‘help ya’self’ and that ‘there’s plenty more of where that came from!’. you nod fervently, and gift him a smile, which has his own eyes refusing to leave you, and lingering occasionally as you ate. no harm in looking, hot guy cooking.

roommate!tsukishima who was a weirdo — not in a malicious way, or in the way where he is a creep. your roommate was just not normal. exhibit a, he was seen folding laundry at two in the morning, at the kitchen table of all places. every wednesday morning, he would be there in the dark, fumbling his way through fresh hoodies and dress pants. how do you know this? once, you wanted a cup of water before succumbing to the wonders of sleep, and saw a six foot something beanpole just standing there in the kitchen. burglar? demon? an alien? no, it was just your roommate with odd habits. the smell of pine disinfectant was odd in the air, and his reasoning? he needed to wipe down the table before organising his clothes all over the place, just like how any other regular person would do. makes sense, but was this the most appropriate of times to be doing laundry? another thing, which made your diagnosis of weirdo all the stronger, was the time he made you watch through all the jurassic park world dinosaur thing movies. it wouldn’t have warranted an eyebrow raise on its own, but after the dinosaur movies, the two of you started watching horror. it left you clinging on to the armrest, and your roomie napping peacefully between scenes, entirely unphased, and laughing at how stupid the characters were. yeah. he was just a bit of a goof — especially when he sleeps clung to you like a koala to a tree. it seems ludicrous just thinking about it, but the way your heart pounds in your throat when he squeezes you around the waist, makes it all too real.

um this was in the drafts for a while enjoy el oh ellllllll

masterlist

[evamame]

grieving the living

osamu after the breakup with you

cw: sfw, angst, hurt no comfort

masterlist

life without you is quiet and empty. it’s much too quiet and empty for osamu’s liking. and the part that makes everything more unbearable than it already is is knowing that it’s all his fault. it’s his incompetence that drove you away. he couldn’t do enough for you. and now it feels like he almost isn’t even enough for himself. nothing ever feels like enough since the day you left. it doesn’t feel like enough when he makes a plate of onigiri for one instead of two. it doesn’t feel like enough when he preps a navy blue bento box for himself in the evening, but doesn’t have to take out the light pink bento box with cherry blossoms printed on it to pack a lunch for you. that one is stored away with you somewhere, wherever you have been resting to heal the wounds that are still fresh. hopefully you’re somewhere doing better without him. that’s really all he wants. if you couldn’t shine by his side, he hopes you shine somewhere else. you were his sun after all, but he’s content if you can be someone else’s sun. or maybe your own sun, if you haven’t moved on yet. hopefully you can move on soon. the thought of you being in the same pain he is right now forms a gnawing feeling deep inside of him that makes him uneasy. the idea that the beautiful smile he once loved so much could be wiped right off your features and traded for tears all because of him is terrifying. he still loves your smile, even if he knows he’ll never be the one to make you beam that way again. the way your eyes would crinkle when you grinned from ear to ear at his jokes used to make his heart flutter, but now the image still vivid in his mind fills his soul with longing. he tries to stay optimistic and think that maybe one day he’ll see it again in a place other than his memory, but he knows deep down it’s no use. it feels weird, he thinks. he’s grieving you, but you’re still alive and well. it doesn’t seem that way. it feels like you died. maybe that’s because he knows he’ll never get you back. you’re not coming home, back to his side. and in his mind, he’s as good as dead. he shuffles around his house with a long, slow stride, the heavy burdens flooding his mind weighing down his every move. for now he’ll just keep grieving the living. until time heals, as it does all, he’ll keep moving forward. but his pace will always be a little bit slower as long as you’re not with him.

a/n: i was feeling angsty so i hope i made you cry.

taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @amaliaaliena @mires765

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[bonniepop]

another night where you fight, another night of silence. another night where miya osamu sleeps with his back to you.

the realization that there is not much more you can do to save your relationship clutches at your chest with an iron grip.

the gravity of it makes you whimper. pressing your lips together, you shakily push yourself up to sit blinking back tears while blindly stepping around for your slippers, willing yourself not to sob—not here, not where he can hear. your toes touch the fluff of them, and you hurry to slip them on. you need to get out of here.

as quiet as possible, you leave your boyfriend in your shared bedroom.

you stumble to the couch and kick off your shoes, blindly searching until your fingers catch the lampshade switch. you yank it to provide some light, rattling as it flings back into place.

you pull your knees to your chest and press your forehead against your kneecaps. a numb part of your brain thinks oh, so this is where this was, when you think of the misery that quieted itself, replaced with a numbness that overtook you during the fight you had with him earlier.

the numbness that made your limbs feel like ice when he clicked off the phone call without even hearing you out.

you wanted to tell him so much, but in the face of his blank gaze and dismissive demeanor, you shut off. you have more fight in you, you know that. but tonight you just couldn’t. couldn’t listen to him tell you that he needed more from you—more support, more time, more patience.

you’ve given him that, right? your brain runs with thoughts you can't keep up with. you gave him yourself. you have, for months, for years. you did what you could. you’ve withstood lonely anniversaries, forgotten birthdays, broken promises. you’ve done everything you could. you gave what you could. you gave everything you could.

i want you to come home, you wanted to tell him eatlier tonight. come home. you’re never home. i know you’re busy at work and you’re doing what you love but please, ‘samu. please. 

love me, too.

your body wracks with a sob, the hurt fresh, as if the words that you never got to say wounded your insides instead. you wanted to tell him that, you wanted to beg for it, beg for his time, beg for his attention, beg for him to love you back. but time and time again he just turns and says he’s tired, he doesn't want to hear it, and the moment is gone, and now the fear of knowing that leaving things unsaid will destroy you, will destroy him. will destroy both of you.

you huddle closer into yourself and sob, a sharp sound in your ears making your head pound.

“babe?” you hear through the ringing in your ears, and suddenly warm hands are on your arms. “babe, what’s wrong?” his voice is calm against your turmoil. “are you having a panic attack?”

“’samu, i’m—” you shudder and he leaves for a moment, flitting to the kitchen to grab you some water. 

“drink, please,” he tells you, gently unfurling you to sit. you comply with shaky limbs, taking the water he’d given you in your delicate grip. a few sips are enough to calm you down, but the fear is still there.

he gingerly takes the glass and sets it aside. he kneels in front of you, taking your hands and soothingly rubbing his thumbs against your skin. his fingers are hot, almost like a furnace, but when you realize that he's not, he's fine, your hands are freezing, you resist the urge to pull away as he warms your palm.

when he looks up to smile at you, you see the exhaustion on his face, and, instantly, you hate yourself for it. for this.

"i'm sorry," you blurt out, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.

his hand leaves yours and cups your cheek. "for what, baby?"

“i love you so much, osamu,” you tell him without thinking, voice thick and wet and miserable. you press the palm of the hand he let go of against his cheek, hiccuping when he closes his eyes to lean into your touch. 

“i love you, too,” he says, ready to apologize for the fight, but it's not about that.

not anymore.

you pull away. the confusion and hurt on his face is making everything worse.

“i love you so much,” you tell him, desperately wishing that he could understand. “but i—” you sob, “but, osamu, i can’t anymore.”

osamu presses his lips together, saying nothing. you hear him sniffle, and his fingers come forward to brush at the tears on your cheeks and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“i love you so much,” you confess. “i would do anything for you. and i have, i have for years. i’ve tried my best, but osamu, i’m so tired,” you sob. your voice feels like its giving out but the desperation makes the words claw themselves out of your mouth. “i’m so tired, i'm so tired and i'm so lonely, and—and—and i love you so much, but i have nothing left to give.”

you pull your hands away to hunch over and cry into your palms unable to face him. messily, you wipe at your face and push your hair back. you give him the most apologetic smile you can muster, but you're unable to see his face through your tears. “i’m so sorry i can’t give you more, osamu.”

you hear him sniffle and when you wipe your tears away with the backs of your hands, his eyes are glassy. then he closes his eyes.

the pain that washes over his face is absolutely unbearable. the furrow of his brow and the wrinkle of his chin, the lines by his scowl that you know is him trying his best to keep it together.

when he opens his eyes to look at you, his eyes are no longer glassy. your heart breaks for the pain he refuses to show. “what’s next?”

your smile is sad and wet with tears. “i think you know.” you brush his hair back and cradle his face with your hands. “let’s… let’s do this in the morning, okay?”

he nods, looking away. he licks his lips and shakes his head, and he turns to face you with a furrowed brow and a little more composure despite his watery gaze. but it doesn’t take long before his face crumples and he rushes to hide his face against your legs. his quiet sobs are pained and miserable, his chest shaking as he cries. 

you press your face against his hair and cry with him.

—

the morning greets you kindly, the soft sunlight bathing your room in a sweet glow. it’s early, but you can’t keep sleeping. there’s a lot to pack.

your eyes feel hot and swollen, and bones feel heavy beneath your skin, weighing you down from getting up from the bed. still, you fight. you push yourself up to sit and notice that you’re alone. unsurprising, really; osamu has been leaving earlier and coming home later. onigiri miya needs care, needs nurturing, so it’ll blossom and grow. you need to stop begrudging him for it.

you finish your morning ablutions in the bathroom and head out to the kitchen, but when you open your bedroom door, the smell of food hits your nose like a smack to the face. your stomach twists when you see a familiar broad back—osamu didn’t leave—and your fingers turn cold.

the door slides shut behind you and he turns. “good mornin’,” he says quietly, shutting off the stove.

“good morning,” you say, walking to your kitchenette. when you see the spread on the table, you gape despite yourself. “osamu. what is—what.”

he flushes, sliding a delicious looking steak unto a plate and setting it alongside the other plates—nearly every single plate you own, you note—and your dining table is bursting with food. “cooked breakfast.”

“for how many people?” you ask, incredulous. “i tried t'remember everythin’ you liked,” he said with a sniff, and your heart crinkles at the edges, because that means something.

“thank you,” you whisper, and you quietly take a seat while sets aside the dishware he used. 

when he finishes, he turns to look at you, leaning on the counter. it takes him a while. “when you leave,” he says, “i’m going to try again.”

you stare at him, confused. you say nothing and wait for him to continue.

“i don’t want you to leave,” he says, and he rubs his face in frustration. “but i know i’ve—i know i fucked up. i love you, and i never should’ve hurt you.” he inhales through his nose. “but i did, and i can’t change that.

“but i’m not giving up on you. not on us. you—” he clears his throat, and the dark circles beneath his eyes makes your heart feel tight. “i’ll… if i have to start all over again, i’ll do it,” he whispers, walking closer and taking your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “i’ll win you back.”

“osamu,” you whisper, and his face crumples again.

“i love you too much to let you go,” he says, voice breaking as he fights back tears. “and i know that makes me a jerk. but i’m… i love you, so much—so fucking much, and i hate myself for not making you feel that. for hurting you.”

he gets on his knees and tears are streaming down your face. “leave me if you have to,” he says brokenly.

“if you need space, i’ll understand. but please,” he begs. “please don’t give up on me.” 

he does the unthinkable. he curls over and bows, back curved and forehead pressed against the backs of his hands, pressed against the floor.

the horror that overtakes you is beyond words. 

you drop to the floor to pull him upright, not letting him do this. he won’t do this to himself, you won’t let him. not for anyone, not for you. you pull his face against yours and kiss him as hard as you can, crying as you do.

you won't let him do this.

later, you sit on the couch, arms around osamu’s middle as you lie on his chest. the idea that this could be the last time you held him like this made you want to burst into tears again.

“i’ll make it up to you,” he promises, pushing your hair out of your face, gently guiding your chin up. “please, just… give me another chance.”

you look up at him, and your eyes meet.

—

“hey!” atsumu greets warmly as soon as you enter the restaurant, spreading his arms wide to engulf you in a hug. “it’s so good t’see you!“

“hi, ‘tsumu,” you greet, returning the hug. 

he motions for you to sit as he picks up the menu. “know what you want?”

you nod, not even bothering to pick up the menu. “how are you? how’s training?”

“’m good! training’s good. teammates are pretty good, too.”

"yeah? like who?"

atsumu makes a show of looking at the menu. "oh, i don't you know them."

you roll your eyes at his obvious ploy to get you to start talking. “fine. ask me.”

atsumu instantly leans in, conspiratorially covering his mouth with the menu and whispering, “how are you two? it’s been over a month now, right?”

“oi.” you twist your head to smile up at the newcomer. “stop bothering them, ‘tsumu.”

atsumu glares at his twin. “i’m the one who invited ‘em to lunch!”

osamu rolls his eyes and lays down a platter of onigiri in front of you. he snatches the menu and smacks his brother’s wandering hands with it before they get to close. “these are not for you.”

“but that’s a lot!" atsumu whines. "can’t i have any?”

“no,” osamu says resolutely, then turns to you and gives you the softest smile he can muster, pinning the menu by his side and arm.

"i haven't even ordered yet!" atsumu complains.

osamu ignores him. “let me know what you think.”

“okay,” you say with a smile. 

“and let me know if you need to take out anything,” he continues, “i’ll wrap it up for you.” he leans forward and presses a kiss to your temple. “enjoy.”

“thank you, ‘samu,” you tell him before he turns to leave. 

he smiles back at you and heads back behind the bar.

atsumu has evidently forgotten about ordering, because his eyes shuttle back and forth between you two before nodding considerably. “so i take it things are going well?”

“yeah,” you admit, picking up an onigiri. “going really well, actually.”

“you’ve been…” atsumu searches for the word, “is it still called ‘dating’? you broke up. but… entertaining each other…?”

“don’t hurt yourself,” you joke. “but yeah. let’s call it dating. and it’s going well, thanks for asking.” you take a bite of the onigiri.

“does he still have a chance?” atsumu asks, genuine curiosity on his face.

you chew thoughtfully as you look back at osamu, who’s smiling at a customer. you remember that bright morning, when he helped you pack, helped you move into your friend’s apartment. when he cooked all that food, and you found it neatly packed away in a thermal bag that had a handwritten note, reminding you to eat well.

you remember the next day, when he showed up at your friend’s door, holding flowers and inviting you out to get some ice cream. you remember his messages, his calls, his check ins on you, littered across the days, asking you how you are or if you’re eating or if you need any food.

you could call him if you needed any help, if you needed anything at all.

but reality sets in when you think of how one phone call could be a mistake, it stops you from searching his name each time you pick up the phone.

in your mind, you see his bent form, his begging, his tears. you remember his smiles and his hugs and his ‘see you later’s, his gradually growing list of unbroken promises. you remember the effort, the time he’s putting into you, putting aside for you. you remember how hard he tries for you.

it's like everything is new again.

his eyes catch yours and he gives you a small wave, and you wave back, your stomach fluttering.

it's not new, you think. it's better.

you swallow your food. it's delicious.

“yeah,” you say softly, “he does.”

[morosluvbug]

osamu miya who falls in love with a picky eater

osamu miya who learns from a very young age that you’re not willing to touch most foods. he (not so) secretly watches at lunch everyday to see what parts of you lunch you end up neglecting.

osamu miya who never teases you about being picky, after all that’s what makes cooking for you more rewarding right? nailing the flavors that you love and hiding the ones that you have no taste for.

osamu miya who attempts (and succeeds) at wowing you through bringing you lunches that he knows you’ll enjoy.

osamu miya who spends the rest of lunch trying not to grin ear to ear while watching you happily eat the lunch he brought you.

osamu miya who knows it’s now his life’s mission to make sure you enjoy food as much as possible.

osamu miya who loves the way your face lights up when he finds a place with lots of options for foods you like. whether its due to dietary restrictions, allergies, or a distace for certain foods, he will make sure there’s many options for you everytime you eat out.

osamu miya who cooks for you as often as you like. if you're ever feeling unmotivated and unwilling to cook he will show up and help you.

osamu miya will reach out to your parents for childhood recipes and loved dishes you may not have told him about. he wants to have your comfort foods at the ready whenever you're craving them.

osamu miya who never fails to wow you with how well he remembers your favorite foods. craving a certain cuisine but don’t know what you want? trust me, he knows way before you do and politely suggests it.

osamu miya loves seeing your reactions to new foods you discover. he’s always so proud when you try something new, and is even happier when he watches your face light up from the flavors.

osamu miya will order for you if you need to sub out items on a dish but are to embarrassed! food is meant to be enjoyed! not picked apart to avoid certain aspects of it.

osamu miya who will do anything to make sure you’re happy, healthy, and not hungy!!

A/N: projecting so hard onto this fic i am so picky about foods!! trying to be better but i fear i am doomed for life :( osamu save me

[bokutoko]

ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ 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.

[miiyas]

oh, how he long to grow old with you. to suffer with back pains, headaches, and strands of silver hair shining in the sunlight together. to drive around and reminisce to your kids about your high school years, to come home to you and your voice, your kisses and your sweet embrace. he wants to build a home with you, whether it’s far away and in the feild where the sun sets beautifully every night or if it’s in a small, cramped apartment— decorated with things that make it a home. to hold your hand every night and listen to your whispers and laughter when he tickles your sides, to kiss you early in the morning before he goes to work, tucking you in. to see you in the morning everyday.

but for now, he’s gonna have to hide that pretty velvet box for a little longer, just until he gets your parents’ blessings.

HINATA, kageyama, oikawa, , KITA, miya twins, AKAASHI (hq), megumi, GOJO, ITADORI, NANAMI (jjk), CHUUYA, dazai, jouno, KUNIKIDA (bsd), WRIOTHESLEY, CHILDE, kazuha, zhongli, ayato, DILUC (gi) + ur favs !

[bowtiepasta]

osamu god of aftercare miya who doesn’t know what leaving is. in gray sweats, shirtless, a ‘kiss the cook’ apron on while he’s making you breakfast the morning after? you don’t really want him to leave anyway.

butter, pancakes, and some secret third thing, pulls you from the haze of sleep before you even open your eyes. the sheets beside you are empty but still warm, proof that osamu hasn’t been up for long.

when you stir, stretching lazily, the first thing you see is him: standing by the stove in nothing but his sweatpants and an apron that hangs loose around his bare chest. he rolls his shoulders back, muscles bunching, the former act to perfectly flipping a sunnyside egg — yolk intact.

“you’re starin’,” he drawls, not looking away from the pan. who wouldn’t be? sleep is evident in his hair, apron dusted lightly with flour, and there’s a faint pink mark on his shoulder turning purple, one you don’t remember leaving but feel smug about anyway.

“you’re in my apartment, my kitchen, making me breakfast,” you manage to carry the tone through a mumble, “I think I’m allowed to look.”

he huffs out a laugh, setting a fresh pancake onto the growing stack on the counter. “fair enough.”

“planning on leaving anytime soon?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ear and drizzling syrup over your portion. he stares a moment, eyes soft and crinkling at the ends, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I ain’t leavin’ until you're full.”

[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

[emmyrosee]

You and Osamu do not have time for this.

Sitting in the doctors office, osamu’s knee bounces up and down anxiously, his hands covering his mouth and his body sending waves of nerves through the air.

You’ve been sick for the past week, dizzy and nauseous, fatigue coursing through your soul and rendering you on bed rest for the week. You haven’t been able to work, or help him at the restaurant, and while he assured you it wasn’t a problem, but the elephant in the room was that you didn’t feel good, and you haven’t for days.

It wasn’t until you started running to the bathroom to fight the nausea that he decided enough was enough and decided to take you to the doctor. You feel terrible, today you were supposed to help Atsumu’s wife help with hisako’s birthday planning since stupid dumb Atsumu is away due to a tournament.

(Okay, potentially that’s the nausea talking. You haven’t slept in a few days.)

“Osamu?” You ask softly.

He hums. You let out a shaky breath.

“Do you think-“

“Im trying hard not to.”

You offer him a laugh for his attempt to break up the awkward silence.

“What if im fine? Will you be mad if this is all for nothing?”

“Baby,” he assures, reaching for your hand. “I’m not playing when it comes to your health. You know that. And even if you’ve been faking this entire thing- which you’re not- I couldn’t be happier to be here, making sure.” He presses a kiss to your head, and you nuzzle into his neck.

You both jump at the sound of the door opening, a call of your name snapping you out of your mind surfing. The doctor plants herself across from you both; she looks calm, and you take that as a good sign.

“Whats wrong with her, doctor?”

“Isnt there a better way to word that?” You hiss.

His eyes widen, “you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well how did you mean it!”

The doctor chuckles, “nothing. There’s nothing wrong with her. Perfectly healthy, Miya-San.”

Osamu’s the first to let out a sigh. Then, he pulls you close eyes screwed shut as you let out a small cry of relief. You bury your face in his chest and fist the collar of his shirt, relief washing over you. You feel light as a feather, able to come out of this with an update to Atsumu’s wife that you’ll be late but you’re on your way, false alarm, and-

“Well. Nothing that won’t resolve itself in nine months.”

You two freeze. Comedically, your faces both drop and after a few seconds, you both turn to the doctor.

She smiles, “congratulations kids. You’re having a baby.”

“Thats…. Not possible.”

“Then consider it a miracle,” the doctor hums.

“But… but we-“

“Doctor, I truly think you’re…. Mistaken….” His voice trails off and he grips your hand, trying to calm himself down.

“Modern science truly is a gift.”

Your entire world spins as you try to pinpoint when and how this happened, you’d been so careful, so sure to be safe because you and Osamu do not have time for this.

But then, Osamu laughs.

It starts as a snicker, a little shake of his shoulders before it blossoms into a bigger, deeper laugh, one that comes from his chest and swirls around the room happily. When you look at him incredulously, looking at him as if you could kill him, he shrugs at you, cheeks split into a grin that’s bright enough to match the sun.

“We’re having a baby,” he manages around his laughter.

Then, you snort. In your peripheral, you see the doctor smile.

“We’re having a baby,” you agree.

[a-pastel-edgelord]

You are the closest thing Atsumu's ever had to a best friend, Osamu knows. His brother's faults were often so visible to other kids that it drove them away. Not you though. You simply laughed and called Atsumu a jerk. The rest is history.

Osamu watches from his place on the bench as Atsumu sets up for a spike serve, six steps, the toss, the jump and--

"Don't fuck it up!" Your voice jeers.

Atsumu misses, spectacularly. The ball ricochets off the back wall with a stellar thwump that rings a brief silence into the gym. Osamu sees his brother spin around, a vein in his neck throbbing as he starts to unload on you.

"YOU MOTHERF—"

"Imagine not getting the service ace because the opposite team heckles you!" You cut him off with a jovial smile. "How lame would that be?"

"YOU SCRUB! GET OVER HERE. I'LL KILL YA!"

And off the two of you go, shrieking insults at each other. Osamu makes no move to get out of his seat. Not for the first time, he considers how this strange game of tag could be its own spectator sport. Suna sits next to him, the middle blocker's eyes flitting to the current source of entertainment.

"Not gonna record this shit?"

"No, s'not nearly as entertaining as watching the two of you beat up on each other." Atsumu manages to trap you in a headlock, driving his knuckles into your scalp for a noogie as you kick at his legs. "How long have they been together anyhow?" The question is asked so flippantly, Osamu almost misses it.

"Hah? They're not datin', Suna." That's right. The two of you aren't dating. Not once had Atsumu ever expressed that kind of interest in you, and the same seems to be true in reverse. No longing stares. No pining.

"That so? Could have sworn they were." Suna glances over, his usual apathetic expression almost perfectly in place. However, Rintaro Suna is the closest thing Osamu has to a best friend.

Osamu's mouth goes dry. "Drop it, Sunarin."

Suna holds his stare for another beat before turning away. "You deserve to have what you want, Samu."

"I mean it."

"So do I."

Osamu fights to keep his face in check, fights to restrain himself like always. To hold back just enough so that he doesn't lose his temper. It should be easier by now, to suffer the pointed remarks Suna makes with grace. However, Suna had been the one to witness the smallest of exchanges between Osamu and you. And then, the motherfucker had managed to put two and two together. So here Osamu sits, watching his brother horseplay with you.

You. The one person he could trust Atsumu with, the one person who would be so good for him to fall for... is the same person who crashed through Osamu's walls and took a seat within the inner sanctum of his affections.

Osamu Miya is in love with his brother's best friend and Atsumu would never forgive him for it if he found out.

[riddlesrose]

osamu miya who believes you’re close to him because you’re interested in his twin. it takes a while for him to fully accept that you don’t want atsumu, you want him. it really set it when you start bringing him the snack he pointed out in your lunch, setting it in front of him while you basically ignored a whining atsumu.

post graduation osamu who was so sad when atsumu was mad at him for quitting volleyball, he comes to you with his troubles, hoping you can help. you let him spew all of his feelings uninterrupted while pressed together on your bed. you wipe a stray tear from his eye and pull him impossibly closer for a hug.

college osamu who calls you almost every night, complaining about the work load he’s been given, or the fact that he wants to come back. when he does it’s the holidays and he celebrates with you first, then his family, and yes you’re there too. (his mother is a huge fan of you, she loooves you like her own:((( )

onigiri miya owner osamu who brings home extra food from his shop because he knows you love it. he totally didn’t make extra before closing. nope. you come to onigiri miya most days to visit him, despite living together. something about him and his uniform does something to your mind.

osamu miya who’s loved you since highschool <33

masterlist

[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

[act-nat-ural]

Currently thinking about Osamu who despite being extremely athletic for most of his life, is slowly not working out as much in his recent years. Between planning your wedding, opening Miya Onigiri, and welcoming your first child, he hasn’t had the time nor energy. All this combined he's slowly growing softer around the edges, and man does it drive you crazy.

You were relaxing, reading a book on your shared bed when he walks in after having showered. Towel wrapped around his waist, his figure on display. He was still wet, water droplets slowly creeping down his chest. His belly was starting to poke out a little, and you loved it. He was very broad, still some muscle left, and combined with the chub he was looking quite tempting.

You start squealing and hide your face in the pillow, kicking your legs. He laughs and walks over, still getting the floor wet. “The hells up with ya?” You giggle and peek from behind the pillow. 

“You’re way too hot. I can’t handle it.” As soon as you say that you burst into giggles again, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise, a slight smirk on his face. 

“Ya think so? I noticed I’ve put on some weight and was thinking of hittin’ the gym-” 

“No! Please! I love it!” He hums and leans over you, nearly pressing against you.

“Well, if you insist.”

note: gnawing on the bars of my enclosure…..