#osamu fluff

[inloveinsickness]

MIYA OSAMU loves coming home to you after a long day of running onigiri miya

despite his larger build, osamu is gentle: gentle with (especially kitchen) appliances, gentle with animals, gentle with you. he never slams doors, never drops things to the ground unless they’re softer in nature, which is why you don’t hear him entering your shared home over the sound of running water.

you nearly jump when his calloused hand sneaks past the hem of your sleep shirt and grazes your skin, breath hitching in surprise as you yelp, “jesus—what happened to saying hi—”

with the hand now resting against your hip and a familiar chuckle that fills the room like music to your ears, he spins you around like it’s nothing, reaching behind you to turn off the faucet and pulling you into his arms in one swift motion.

“you smell like onigiri.” you giggle into his frame, smushing your face into his classic, illegally form-fitting black tee nonetheless. it’s come to be a welcoming scent, one that has a relaxed smile painting your face and pride swelling in your chest.

he shakes his head, combing his fingers through your hair, voice laced with a soft mirthfulness and an amused upward quirk of his lips, “tell me something i don’t know, sweetheart.”

taglist. open (link to form) @wyrcan @urslytherin @saucejar @somniachant @returntothefae

@diorzs @daisy-room @stellar-headquarters @whatisnureotypical @haruhi269

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[seumyo]

BOYFRIEND TEXTS ✰ INARIZAKI TRIO

NOTE. Suna’s the only version to be set in high school (Aha, I forgot to make his a college version like Atsumu and Osamu’s) </3

MIYA ATSUMU

SUNA RINTAROU

MIYA OSAMU

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[dearru]

i think osamu is the type of husband who has a series on tiktok titled “cooking for my spouse so they don’t divorce me” and i think that’s beautiful

[noorpersona]

Confessions: Osamu

The shop is quiet, bathed in the golden light of the early evening, the kind that settles over wood and stone like a warm sigh. A gentle hush lingers in the space, broken only by the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional click of the camera shutter. Most of the chairs are stacked, the door flipped to its "CLOSED" sign, and the scent of vinegar and freshly cooked rice still lingers in the air. You're both still inside—Osamu behind the counter in his slightly wrinkled apron, you crouched near the front display trying to get the perfect shot of a tuna nigiri against the fading light.

You’d met in college—him, a culinary student with arms always dusted in flour or sea salt, and you, a sharp-tongued marketing major who could charm a room with a smile and tear apart a branding pitch in under a minute.

You clicked almost immediately. It started with coffee-fueled group projects, late-night ramen runs, and long, quiet study sessions where neither of you said much but never seemed to want to leave. By the time you graduated, you'd both moved back home, and when he opened up his own nigiri shop, it felt natural to call you in to help make it shine.

Osamu’s had a crush on you since your second year. He’s certain of it. The first time you snapped at him for being late and then bought him lunch anyway, he was done for. But he never said anything—not when you were swamped with internship applications, not when he got too busy building his dream from scratch. He just... kept you around. Close. Safe. Until now.

“You’re supposed to be takin’ photos,” he says, voice low and amused as he leans against the counter, watching you from across the room.

“I am,” you say around a mouthful of nigiri, holding your phone up with one hand, chopsticks in the other. “I’m multitasking.”

Osamu lifts a brow. “That your fancy marketing term for stealin’ my hard work?”

You grin, chewing contentedly. “Not stealing. Quality control.”

He huffs a laugh, arms crossed, apron a little wrinkled from the long day. You’ve been at this for hours—prepping a new campaign for the shop’s upcoming anniversary special, trying to capture the perfect lighting, the perfect angle, the perfect bite. The trouble is, the food is too good. And you’re hungry. And Osamu’s expression every time you sneak another piece is too funny not to provoke.

“Y’know,” he says, walking over to the bar where you’ve made a makeshift photography studio of cutting boards and empty plates, “I could’ve just hired a photographer.”

“Yeah, but they wouldn’t have my good side memorized.”

He pauses behind you, and you feel his gaze on the back of your head before he leans slightly over your shoulder to glance at your camera roll.

“Half these are just you eatin’ food,” he mutters.

“Well, you can tell it's good food.”

“Yer a menace.”

You laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls of the quiet shop. As you're reaching for another piece of nigiri, he eyes you from behind the counter.

“Oi,” he says, pointing a chopstick at you, “I said stop eatin’ 'em all.”

You pop the bite into your mouth with a grin. “Oh, c'mon. This is my payment for staying late and taking these photos.”

Osamu raises a brow. “Yeah, well, you can’t get the damn photos if there’s nothin’ left to shoot.”

You reach forward and pluck another piece off the plate just to spite him.

Osamu throws his head back with a groan, but the sound blends into a laugh—low and unfiltered. His arms uncross, one hand resting on the counter’s edge as he leans forward, shaking his head.

His smile cracks wide across his face, tugging at the corners of his eyes, and for a moment, he just watches you with something helplessly fond behind the amusement. His shoulders lift slightly with each breath, the kind of laugh that takes over your whole body before you even realize it. There’s no trace of the usual teasing smirk, no sarcasm—just the kind of joy that escapes when you stop trying to hide it.

“Hey—stop eatin’ all the—ugh, I love you.”

The words slip out in the middle of a breathless laugh, tangled in warmth and amusement, tumbling into the open before either of you can brace for the impact. His voice trails off at the end, like his brain only just caught up with his mouth—and then the moment hangs.

Still.

Your fingers hover above the plate, chopsticks clutched mid-air, and your smile falters as the weight of what he just said sinks in. The warmth still lingering in your chest twists into something deeper—sharper.

Both of you freeze, suspended in golden light and thick, heady silence. His laughter dies like a flame catching wind.

Your hand stops mid-air, halfway to your mouth. “...What did you say?”

Osamu straightens up like he touched a live wire. “Nothin’. I didn’t—I mean, that wasn’t—”

“No no,” you say, slowly lowering the chopsticks, your eyes narrowing with disbelief and something else—something softer. “Did you just say you love me?”

“I didn’t mean to say it like that!” he blurts, already rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just—ya were bein’ you, and I laughed, and it slipped out, but I do, I mean, I didn’t plan to just—shit—”

You cut off his rambling by stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him in a sudden, fierce hug.

Osamu goes completely still for a second, his breath shallow as his arms remain half-curled like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to hold you yet. Then you feel the tension give way as he exhales against your hair, and his arms tighten around you just slightly, enough to pull you flush against his chest.

You bury your face into the soft cotton of his shirt, the scent of soy and rice grounding you. “I love you too, you moron.”

You feel his breath stutter against your temple, and you tilt your head up just enough to see his eyes—soft, stunned, and a little dazed.

"Took you long enough," you add with a teasing smile.

He huffs a laugh, low and disbelieving, the sound rumbling through his chest. His shoulders sag, relief pouring through him in quiet waves. “You’re not just sayin’ that?” he asks, voice rough at the edges, like he still doesn’t fully believe he didn’t just hallucinate this entire thing.

You grin. “Would I lie to the man who makes me free food every week?”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face before ruffling the back of your hair affectionately. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, but his tone is nothing but fond.

He’s smiling, really smiling, like the kind of smile that lives in the corners of his mouth even after it fades, the kind you remember for days. His hand finds yours without hesitation, fingers curling through yours like he’s done it a thousand times in his head already. You stay like that for a moment—standing in the golden hush of the closed shop, surrounded by the scent of rice and vinegar and the lingering echo of laughter.

“You still owe me promotional photos,” he murmurs against your lips.

You pull back just enough to smile. “Only if I get to eat the props after.”

“Fine. But I’m writin’ you off as an expense.”

[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

[makkir0ll]

between you and your husband, you were the one more…vocal about your love for him. leaving him sweet notes with doodles of the two of you in his lunch, ending all heartfelt messages with x’s, planting a big kiss on his cheek that he pretended to cringe at but in reality he looked forward to it everytime he left the house.

people would always come up to you, telling you that he doesn’t reciprocate his love with words and such and asking you how you dealt with it. truth be told it took a while for you to get used to but soon enough you began to see the signs.

it was the way that every time he got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom he would tuck your feet back into bed. the way he spent a solid twenty minutes cleaning your phone screen, and with furrowed brows as he placed your new screen protector on, making sure there were no bubbles. it was when you opened his wallet that you saw all the notes you wrote him saved in one pocket of his shitty leather wallet that was begging to be put to rest. it's the way when you come home after a long night out with your friends he takes his time undressing you, removing and placing your jewelry carefully on your bedside table and making sure to gently take off your makeup and of course do your skincare routine that he has memeorized. when he goes out and he spots a little something with your favorite character on it he buys it immediately, not bothering to look at the price tag because the way your eyes would light up when he brought home the little gift was worth more than a billion dollars to him.

it was when on your third month anniversary when the two of you were still dating, while the two of you sat down on the booth next to each other at a restaurant he held your hand and squeezed it three times. signifying the words, i love you. he knew he loved you from the start but was scared it was too soon to say it and this was his silent way of telling you so. and you picked up on it quickly when he started to do it more often.

and on your wedding day, as the two of you stand in front of all your loved ones and the officiator he says the most beautiful vows ever, telling you that "if death do us part then i hope to find you in every lifetime" and once he ended with that sentence, he squeezed your hand three times. i. love. you.

you always knew your husband loved you because his actions spoke a thousand words to you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜

sigh. TSUKISHIMA FREAKING KEI!!!!!!!!, akaashi keiji (he writes notes back to you), KITA. SHINSUKE., iwaizumi hajime (30) athletic trainer, suna rintarou, USHIJIMA, kageyama tobio (squeezed your hand a lot when you started dating), MIYA OSAMU, sakusa kiyoomi, OH OH OH AONE!!,

[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.

masterlist | navigation

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

[ohgodthevoices]

going crazy over how husband material osamu is, hear me ouuutttt

tags : fluff, time-skip, f!reader, tattoo , he listens to, he cares , and he cook , i’m thirsting m sorry

osamu would be the type of bestfriend that knows damn well you want him bad but keeps on teasing you and acting clueless just to see how far you can go before you crack

as childhood friends, it was normal for you to be touchy and generally comfortable with each other but it raised his suspicions when you now looked away when he was topless around you. it’s not like you were uncomfortable with it ?

you’ve basically lived your whole life with the miyas, you’ve seen osamu wet the bed as a kid, get rejected by his middle school crush you’ve even witnessed him putting his hand in his pants and scratch his butt, seeing him topless in the comfort of his apartment was a casual thing so why the hell would you look away , did he lose his shape ? no, he still worked out frequently even if he’s not an athlete anymore…

either way osamu always took care for you, he was always so careful when it comes to you , sure he’d playfully hit you here and there but it was nothing you couldn’t handle

just imagine him cooking you a nice heart-warming meal, glancing at you every now and then while you’re sitting on the counter looking like a mess after a long exhausting day , wine glass in hand and rambling your worries away. it really became a ritual for you to swing by his place unannounced after a bad day.

he’d open the door with his signature lazy smile “ya had a bad day?” you finally let you shoulders relax “long story..” he steps back, inviting you in “i got time”.

sometimes osamu gets this weird feeling he can’t explain when he realizes he’s seen you grow into a real woman, it really freaked him tf out when you told him you had your first time with some boy he never heard the name of.

he scolds you after a bad decision for sure , but he’s always there to comfort you right after. SO imagine his surprise when during a drunken confession after you finally listened to him and dumped your toxic bf, you admit to him between sobs that broke his heart into pieces

“why can’t i find a guy that actually likes me—?” your face was buried in his now wet tshirt , his strong arms holding you tight as if they were gonna protect you from feeling hurt, your words were muffled, melting together “why can’t i find someone like you samu…im so jealous of the girl that’s gonna be yours” holy fucking shit how was he so blind to never realize this…

thank god that night was complete blurry in your mind , so when you woke up the day completely hung over and found your beloved best friend making you breakfast with a bed hair and his sleeves rolled up showing off his forearms that you find really hot for some reason , your slight blush was explained.

omfg the day he showed up to your workplace during his break with a well crafted lunch box he made full of delicious onigiris because he listens and he remembers that your annoying coworker kept flaunting her relationship to you and it pissed you off and you wanted to show her that you can pull too

ever since he realized the power he had over you, he wouldn’t stop just picking at you and seeing how far he can go, he was basically testing the waters by stretching until his shirt lifts up, hold eye contact for a lil longer than what he should, and how he praises you don’t get me startedddd

“yer actually pretty decent at this” when you cook dinner with him, “look at ya bein all confident and independent !” when you actually tell the waiter they got your order wrong, “yer pretty distractin’ yk that? that’s kinda dangerous.”

osamu was a pretty touchy guy, not overly cuddly or anything but he did enjoy proximity, he’d usually hold your wrist when passing crowds but for some reason he now held your waist, his touch gentle yet firm on you. istg his hand placement is impeccable

there’s just something about him keeping a hair tie on his wrist for you that’s so endearing, so caring and attentive to your lil daily struggles.

it all happened when you got your first tattoo, he had sent you to his friend whom he deemed good enough to ink your body. he was nervous and excited as if he was the one getting tattooed but that’s mostly because you wanted to keep it a mystery, he knew that when he came home after closing the shop he’d find you there already.

there was just something so intimate about him coming back from work and finding you already at his place , he liked it, he could get use to it.

“ ‘m here !” he yelled out closing the door behind him , analyzing you from head to toe as you pop infront of him with his tshirt and shorts on displaying an almost mischievous smile, his eyebrows creasing as he doesn’t see any trace of a tattoo on your arms or legs, maybe it was on your shoulders?

he plopped down on his couch , man spreading “soo… are ya gonna show me or ?” you happily turn to the side, his eyes widen as you lift up the shirt enough to reveal a sideboob tattoo. he sits up the shock visible on his face “holy shit cmere” you obey him , getting closer for him to get a better look. with a swift motion his arm was now around your hip , pushing you to sit on one of his legs

he clearly recognized his friend’s intricate style, the design cupping the side of your boob, he wanted to admire his work but damn he felt a lil jealous that he worked so close to you. he finally looked at you only now noticing your reddish face

his face was just inches from yours, his previously shocked expression fading as he met your eyes. he leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your jaw, and for a split second, everything around you felt quiet, just the two of you in that small space. he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though, breaking the tension as he nudged you lightly

“didn’t know you had it in ya to do somethin’ like that” he whispered.

before you could answer, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, gently pulling you in. his lips brushed yours, just a soft, teasing touch, before pulling back slightly with that same smirk. “couldn’t resist,” he muttered under his breath, and this time, when he kissed you again, it was longer, deeper—no more teasing, just the feeling of the moment taking over.

i’m currently such a sucker for time skip osamu he’s all i’m thinking about

[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.

[cottonlemonade]

Mama Miya knew early on, that Osamu would be a big eater. She had caught him as a toddler plenty of times climbing onto the kitchen counter and squatting by the open rice cooker, eating the sticky white grains by the handful while Atsumu stood guard, expecting spoils himself for a job well done, realizing too late that his brother had emptied the supply all by himself.

[wake-uptoreality]

"Should i tattoo your name on my chest?" He murmurs as you both are laying in bed, you between his thighs as he has his arm wrapped around your waist. he moves his lips up and down on your neck, lightly teasing your skin. "Ahn...why would you want that?...besides...it could hurt you..." you say a bit concerned by his sentence, but when you see his firey gaze in his eyes...you close and open your mouth like a fish..."are you really serious?" "I just want a piece of you with me. It would show that I belong only to you. I will feel so proud wearing your name every time, princess...and your name is most beautiful and unique one...I, myself will feel special just by having it on my chest...after all...gosh...i am so obsessed...y/n...y/n...just by saying it drives me insane, princess" he says hoarsly as his pupils are dilated...he grabs your hand and puts it on his muscular chest..."you will be in here always"

-> DAICHI, osamu, IWAIZUMI, hinata, USHIJIMA, kenma, AKAASHI, suna.

[quirrrky]

I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, AND ALL THESE LITTLE THINGS •✦ haikyuu

KUROO, KENMA, IWAIZUMI, OIKAWA, AKAASHI, KITA, ATSUMU, OSAMU and the little things that matter the greatest when you're with them

≡ NOTE ⋮ single as a pringle but I want my future relationship to be like this ૮꒰っ˕‹̥̥̥ ꒱ these boys make me fall in love hard

KUROO TETSUROU

It's the way he always stays beside you even though you're both doing different things. He'll rest his head against your arm as you type on your laptop/computer and he was on his phone, browsing for some random meme or nerd stuff. From time to time, Tetsu will show you some funny posts he'll come across just so you can laugh at it together. When he feels the urge, he'll plant a random kiss on your shoulder; and if he still can't get enough, he'll steal a kiss on your lips and who knows it might turn into something more. There are times when he's feeling extra so cuddly and will rub his cheek against your arm like he's your cat in human form, then he'll feel drowsy and fall asleep.

It can go the other way around too when you're caged in his arms with your attention on your phone and his on the TV. He'll nuzzle his nose on top of your head and you'll squeeze tight against his chest, just shrouded with his warmth and scent.

He doesn't have the perfect family growing up. He's awakened to the the impermanence of things a little too early that's why just by having you beside him is more than enough. Just the simplicity of basking in each other's presence—cherishing all the time you get to spend with each other no matter how mundane.

KENMA KOZUME

It's when he treasures every memory with you no matter how small. Kenma will sneakily take pictures of you whenever you're just simply eating fries, you're busy doing work, or crying over a tearjerking scene in a movie. That one time you looked so beautiful as you attend a party with him, the one when you are slightly snoring in your sleep and even when you have your mouth full as you munch on your favorite food, he has an album of all those. He has even created a private Instagram account with photos and videos of you alone and of the two of you as a couple.

Sometimes you will catch him smiling while tinkering on his phone and you just think he's playing a game, but little did you know that he is editing a video of you and the both of you.

He has been content being all by himself yet when you've come along, his world begins to be more colorful. It's like he's playing Pokemon but the one he's catching will always be you and your cute reactions, keeping every bits and pieces of your presence in his life as the greatest gameplay he doesn't want to be over.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

It's how he wakes you up each morning. Hajime is always the early riser. Set aside the times when he'll surprise you with a breakfast in bed or the instances when you're running late, he'll nag at you so you can get your lazy ass up from bed.

What you treasure the most is whenever you find your head resting against his chest as he fidgets with the strands of your hair. The beating of his heart against your ear is like a sweet welcome in the morning.

Also, the times when you'll wake up to him watching you sleep. His gaze is full of adoration and filled with emotions unspoken. The way his eyes will crinkle in his smile as he say, "Good morning." You feel so lucky to wake up beside this man. Just seeing him you look at you like that makes you grateful of each waking day, getting another chance to spend it with him. You want to freeze the moment, wishing for it not to end anytime soon. Just you and him before the world.

OIKAWA TOORU

It's the pillowtalk you have before going to sleep. How you reminisce the first time you meet each other and how far you've come together. The sparkle in his eyes as he recall how much more beautiful you have become and stronger you have been, growing into the wondeful person you are today. His eyes convey so much fondness and love that they beam even at the dimness of your room. There's also something so special with the way he caresses the side of your facewith the backnof his hand as if he's trying to bury each dip and line of your feature.

You'll dissect your emotions together, the good and the bad. You'll both cry at the sad moments, embrace each other through the hurt and laugh at the silliest and most embarassing memories.

Tooru has always been seeking for external validation, seeing achievement as the metric for his success yet with you it's just so simple. You're all he needs to be fulfilled. With you, it's just so easy. and sharing every moment with you, every loss, every victory, is something he will never ever trade for anything else. For, despite everything, he has finally found the safe space he can come home to at the ebd of each day.

AKAASHI KEIJI

It's when he doesn't want to let go of your hand. Keiji has always been a gentleman, but he won't let anyone break your handhold whenever you stroll outside. He'll always have your hand in his never breaking away. His hold is tight and gentle, expressing how protective he is of you. His thumb usually carresses the back of your knuckles so sweetly and he'll occasionally whisper a kiss like you're his treasured princess. When it's cold, he'll slip your linked fingers inside his coat. Sometimes, he'll gently breathe out against your hand if he notices you freezing. Whenever your handhold will break, he immediately seeks out for you. He'll stop walking just so you can come back in his grasp again.

He has gained a habit of playing with your dainty fingers idly too. Sometimes, it can catch people's attention just by the sheer intimacy of it yet he isn't aware.

Even when you're alone and at home, he still reaches out for your hand. He has you in a tender hold as you watch your favorite show or eat dinner. There are times you'll wake up with your fingers interlocked with each other and it gives you so much comfort. Comfort in knowing you have someone to hold on to for the rest of your life and you know you'll never ever let him go too.

KITA SHINSUKE

It's the way he cares for you like no one else does. Shinsuke will always see that you have eaten enough and at the right time. You can't skip a meal when he's around. If you're busy and can't take a meal right away, he'll bring the food to you. Makes sure that you drink plenty of water and you sleep on time. He snatches your phone away when you take too much time with it even during late at night. When he's farming and you're at work, he takes time to call you during lunch, making sure that you are looking after yourself as much as he's looking after you.

He always checks the temperature outside and prepares the right outerwear for you so you won't catch a cold. Even if you have layers and layers of clothing over you, he'll still pull you close with an arm around your shoulder to keep you warm.

When it's raining, his priority is to get you under the umbrella. It doesn't matter if a part of himself is getting drenched as long as you are not.

He can be strict at times but he is easy to cave in and will allow you to eat your favorite junk food or sweet once you surprise him with a kiss.

Though he can be quite strict at times, he really wish you know how much you mean to him he doesn't want you to be harmed. Your hurt is his hurt and he just simply wants you to take care of yourself the way he cares so devotedly for you.

MIYA ATSUMU

It's because you're his perfect match. Tsumu often buys something in pair. People will see you wearing matching jackets, shirts and caps. You even have couple phone cases and wallpapers because of him. Whenever he has a new jersey, he'll give the extra to you so you can sometimes wear it together. He just loves seeing his clothes on you. You look so good in them that

Whenever he buys something in the grocery, he'll also buy one for you. If there's only ine pudding left, he'll share the other half of it with you. Always with you. He always has you in his mind and thinks of you as he thinks of himself.

Sometimes, he'll sacrifice what he has just so you can have it. He won't let you know about this, of course, but he wants you to feel that you have him as a partner, that he'll be with you in every step of the way and that he sees you as an extension of himself.

MIYA OSAMU

It's because he lets you mess up. Though it's obvious with the way he sweats and brows furrow, how he's so nervous with what the outcome could be, Samu will still let you take over his kitchen.

Normally, he doesn't allow any foreign hands on any of his kitchenware, but you are the only exception.

He'll let you use his non-stick skillet pan though he just bought it. He knows it won't come unscathed after your use but he still lends it to you and you know it so well. Instead of getting angry at you, he just laughs at your mistakes, carressing the top of your head and giving you a sweet kiss. He's aware that you're trying your best to impress him even if he is constantly reminding you that he doesn't mind making breakfast, lunch and dinner for you for the rest of your life.

Most importantly, you can mess up his brand new skillet or even his whole kitchen. He can always get another one again but he cannot get another one of you.

@pixelcafe-network

[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

[megapteraurelia]

nom nom.

“i’m gonna need my fingers back.” 

miya osamu stared at you blankly, though made no move to remove his digits. 

your tongue swirled around the tips of his fingers, teeth digging into his flesh lightly, but with enough pressure to make him give you a long look. one that made you slightly open your mouth to allow him to take his hand back. 

“spoilsport,” you pouted, “it’s not my fault you taste delicious.”

“yeah, yeah,” he hummed non-committedly, washing his fingers before going back to preparing food, wrapping another rice ball in a strip of nori. 

osamu was careful and painstaking while handling the food, brows slightly furrowed in concentration, lips slightly pressed together. 

he set down the finished food and made a second one with just as much care, just as much love, just as much attention to detail, and you watched him scuttle around the kitchen as your legs swung back and forth, heels of your feet hitting the cabinet you were sitting on lightly and with a quiet thud.

when he settled next to you again, he finished up another rice ball before holding it out to you. delightfully, you leaned forward and popped it into your mouth, allowing the rice with the filling to melt in your mouth, your lips nipping at his fingers to catch the taste of the sweet vinegar from the rice.

“cheeky,” he narrowed his eyes at you, his hand retreating from your mouth to grip your jaw tight, squishing your cheeks together. osamu’s eyes flitted over your face, the puckered lips, the teasing glint in your eyes, one of your hands sneaking to grab another rice ball from the glass cutting board. 

but before you could grab anything, he had already intertwined his fingers with yours, tugging your hand away. a scolding raise of his eyebrows at your attempt, a huff at the butterflies that erupted in the chest when you winked at him in response.

“yer lucky,” he murmured, dipping his head to press a kiss to your pursed lips, “that i love ya somethin’ mad,” before letting go, allowing you to rub your jaw with a grin.

then, osamu sighed, met your knuckles with his lips before feeding you that stray rice ball you had been eyeing, too, though this time pulling away before you can mess with his fingers some more.

[osamiiya]

warnings// maybe suggestive!

— — —

Blinking awake next to Osamu, who’s eyes are still closed and his breathing even.

There’s little red marks that litter the column of neck and his chest.

“Physical evidence that you love me.” He’ll murmer later, laughing slightly as he traces them with a gentle hand, eyes staring softly in the mirror.

But now, his hair is messed up, pressing against the pillow. You’re sure he’ll have the most wicked cowlick.

One arm is lazily looped over your waist, the other under your head. And later, Osamu will grumble that he’s sore, but the next time you two slip into bed, he’ll pull you into his arms just the same.

His arms tighten every time you shift, and if you shift a little too much, his own soft brown eyes will blink open, bleary with sleep and gentle with the remnants of dreams.

“Morning.” Osamu’s voice is gravelly with disuse, breathing in deeply to stretch his back.

He blinks a couple more times, before a lazy smile creeps up onto his face as he simply looks at you in his arms.

There isn’t much light in the room, a sliver of light projected on the wall from Osamu not closing the curtains all the way. And, you know it’s cold in the room, but, Osamu runs hot, and you’re starting to overheat with his body pressed against yours.

“It’s hot.” You grumble back, trying to push and wiggle your way out of his grip, but his arms tighten as a low displeased groan makes its way out of Osamu.

“Stay, please.”

And who are you to deny a man what he wants?

[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