#atsumu imagines

[alpali]

Atsumu cries at every heartfelt act you do for him. It doesn’t matter what it is.

You could give him a rock and say it reminded you of him and he’s damn near in tears.

Or if you call him over the phone and say you’re coming over with his favorite food. He’s trying to muffle his whimpers.

He just loves you so much and even though he teases you so so much for your sappy acts, he loves it all way too much.

So you can only imagine his reaction when you write him a letter for your guys anniversary. Gifting him a basket full of things and memories throughout your relationship.

He’s quiet for quite some time and it worries you that he didn’t like it. But it’s the exact opposite he loves it. When you hear his sniffles, you’re snapping your head towards him, brows pulling together.

“Sumu? What’s wrong?” You rush to his side, rubbing his back but he cries more.

“I jus’—”

He hiccups.

“I love you s’much. M’gonna marry you I swear.” He pouts, staring at you with his big shining eyes.

You laugh and it kind of embarrasses him but he doesn’t care.

“I love you.” He says again, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. You soothe his hair as he holds you and calms down.

“I’ll be waiting then.” You smile, hugging him just as tight.

[angelkiyo]

i loved that while getting caught trope. can you do one for atsumu?

— 🌸 anon

a/n: hiiii 🌸 anon! yes ofc i love this ask!! pls feel free to send more asks!!

—

“fuck, ‘tsumu—go faster.” you frowned, breath hitching in your throat as you felt atsumu miya’s painfully slow thrusts. you felt his warm and calloused fingers play with the waistline of your panties as you were bent over for him. the rest of the team was out for a jog, with atsumu lying and saying he had to take care of something. that being you, after teasing him earlier in the day.

never in a million years did you think you would be getting fucked by the msby jackals’ star player in the damn locker room, for crying out loud. the locker room itself and probably the whole training center was quiet, safe for the incessant grunts and moans coming from the both of you, practically fucking like rabbits in heat.

you heard him let out a sardonic little chuckle before speaking out, “baby, i didn’t expect you to beg. what if we got caught by my coach? what’d ya think daddy dearest is gonna say when he sees his star player and his pretty little daughter together?”

you gasped as he went faster and got pressed against the lockers, feeling the cold metal against your hot and sweaty body all flustered. him being the son of a bitch he was, yanked at your hair, making you arch more against him. “damn you, miya! fuck—!”

you bit your lower lip in attempts to silence your whines you felt his cockhead kiss your cervix with every thrust he gave you. you felt goosebumps as you felt his fingers gracefully touch you as if you were porcelain, with them ending up kneading your breasts like dough. his lips were latched onto your hot and flustered skin, giving you butterfly kisses ever so gently while he fucked you like a vice.

“fuck—oh my god-!” you felt tears pool at your eyes as you began grinding against him, the extra friction making you feel more restless and on edge. “damn it, honey. so goddamn good f’me,” you could practically envision atsumu’s shit-eating grin as your gummy walls clamped his cock. you let out a slight cry at the feeling of your knot in your stomach becoming undone, with your orgasm coming into you like a wave.

he began squeezing and slapping your ass as he began thrusting faster. your mouth went agape at the overstimulating sensation of him. you felt like your words became incoherent as you got pressed against the lockers with more force, feeling his cock stretch you out and mold your pussy to accustom his size. you heard him let out slight curses as he filled you.

for a moment, all you felt was pure euphoria wash over you for a moment—listening to the sound of your heartbeat and the way you attempted to catch your breath.

until you heard the sound of metal doors being pushed to open and chatter.

however, you didn’t need to look at atsumu to know he had his grin etched back on his face.

“‘til next time, baby. gotta go practice.”

[suwoi]

⟢ tweets about you ! hq

synopsis: just lovesick boys 🤭

ft. atsumu tanaka noya suna oikawa sugawara kuroo kenma bokuto hinata

[r1elle]

desperate male lead syndrome is making a strong comeback in 2024 and i’m here for it!! so i wrote about this annoying loser (your honour i love him so much)

husband atsumu drabble because this is what the people want ^^ (i’m people)

“baby, don’t go looking at yer’ poor husband like that..” atsumu pouts, poking your cheeks at the sight of your evidently disdained face.

okay. you could go do that. you could also just forget the broken ceramic on the floor, still not cleaned up because atsumu would rather make amends with you first than cleaning up the potential risk that was right infront of you both.

honestly, you couldn’t tell whether you should be glad, or concerned.

“i’m not mad at you,’ you say, the expression on your face clearly betraying your words. “don’t worry about it, atsumu.”

you thought that maybe your words would ease the blonde man’s resolve, however it seemed to have only made it worse for him.

“atsumu?! no baby, no love, no ‘tsumu?!” he stresses, hands going up to his mouth.

you stare at his rather dramatic delivery,—and was that the life in his eyes flying away?? he looks like a modern rendition of casper the ghost.

“i’ll do the dishes for a week, no,—a month! i’ll buy ya’ those heels ya’ told me not to buy at the mall!!” atsumu frantically spouts, saying anything he could think of as he continues to cling onto your figure, his face mushing onto your neck and shoulder area.

you shut your eyes. just.. how could you stay annoyed? look at his pouty face, how his ears seemed to be more red than the rest of his skins current complexion. he practically made it impossible for you to even be the least bit mad, and you would’ve felt as guilty as a convict for even attempting to do so. that’s the kind of effect he had on you.

in response, you merely sigh. but there wasn’t any bark to it. “or, you could clean up the shattered pot on the floor.” you say, making sure to bring your tone to a more gentle and reassuring one.

atsumu turns to at you once again, his blonde locks tickling your skin as he moves.

“yer’ not mad anymore?” he beams. “i mean, we could always make another pot, right? how ‘bout it?” he says, hopeful eyes staring directly to your orbs.

in all realness, you genuinely weren’t mad at him, —(as much as he would sulk and say you definitely were), no. you were just sad at the fact that you and atsumu’s ceramic that you both had worked so hard to sculpt and paint on your first date was now shattered on the floor, all but beyond repair.

“i was never mad at you, promise.” you say. “just a bit disappointed. i liked that pot a lot, you know.” your hand reaches for atsumu’s cheek, pinching it slightly. physical touch always seemed to reassure him more than anything else.

atsumu mentally notes that he should make you breakfast in bed the following morning as he stares at your affirming expression. he plants various of pecks on your face after doing so.

“i’m sorry, princess.” atsumu coo’s, his hand pushing away the little hairs on your forehead as he plants a kiss on it.

“i’ll make it up to ya’, i promise.”

— • —

now, you know that you most definitely shouldn’t be all too surprised, considering that, well, —this was miya atsumu we were talking about,

but seriously….

you stare at the little bundle of fur politely sitting on your lap as you rub your eyes, just having come out of your nights sleep. you also happen to notice the smell of pancakes and hot chocolate coming from the bedside table.

“ ‘tsumu, where—?..no, when did you get this dog?”

“i have my ways.” he proudly grins. “but look, it’s yer’ favourite breed!”

“….yes, i know. but where did you—“

“we have a daughter now, hehe.”

“since when did i agre—“

“so adorable, definitely takes after her mommy and daddy. look at the bow on her head!”

“ ‘tsum-“

“i love you.”

“dont change the subject!”

——————————————————————————

atsumu brainrot is real and clocking me out (kageyama i can explain)

update: TYSM for 1k+ notes omg ??!! thank u all for loving this loserboy with me i feel so heard 😢😢🙏🏽

[wake-uptoreality]

It was not often when you two had arguments, but oh boy..when you did. You are angrily yelling at him. you didnt know what came over you...amd you just spit at him. He is shocked, amused even and can't belive what you did...but after all..he is sucker for unpredictable woman, since he is unpredictable man himself. He smirks as he grabs your chin while pinning you against the wall..he looks down at you and slips his thumb between your lips as he whispers huskily.

"Open your mouth, my turn"

-> SUNA, kageyama, TSUKISHIMA, OIKAWA, iwaizumi, kuroo, sugawara, ATSUMU.

[euphoricimagination]

𝓗𝓪𝓲𝓴𝔂𝓾𝓾 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓴-𝓶𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵

Feat. Nekoma & Inarizaki -> Part 2 [Aoba Johsai & Fukurodani]

Premise: You had to do something else for a week and a half, leaving the boys alone for that period. Although they told the coaches that they could survive without you, the coaches ask a girl to help them out instead. They weren’t particularly excited, which got worse the more they spent time with her

Nekoma

You arrived later than you expected, just on time for the club, So you didn’t get to see your dear team until much later

When you enter the gym, you see a…strange view

No one in the team was happy

Yaku and Kai didn’t have any expressions on them, Lev was pouting aggressively, Fukunaga had a frown, Yamamoto was mumbling words and Kenma was nowhere to be seen.

The girl that was supposed to replace you for the week was walking besides a very annoyed Kuroo, who was pushing the cart with the balls

Weird, considering that doing that was the basics for being a manager

They were so out of it that none notice the sound of your shoes, weird considering how attentive they are

“Ah Kuroo senpai, thank God you helped me! I’m so small and weak that I wasn’t able to push it over” you heard her say, making you cringe at the sentence

“Yeah, whatever” said a disinteresting Kuroo

And that’s when you confirm that something was really wrong, Kuroo was never this dismissive

“What’s happening? Everything ok?” you asked making Kuroo turn around with a relief smile on

“Oh hi, Kuroo senpai was just helping me since you know, I’m so small and weak” says fluttering her eyes at him

“It’s just pushing the cart. It has wheels on it…” You gave a disbelief look to Kuroo, who just rolls his eyes “it’s not that hard”

“Maybe for someone as big as you it wouldn’t be so difficult!”

That was it for Kuroo, who quickly move to your side giving you a hug

“Well, guess you can leave now that our manager is back. Bye”

"Kuroo-senpai!! Stooop! I can stay here too!” says stomping her feet

The whole commotion cause everyone to look at you, and you swear you heard a collective sigh full of relief

Quickly enough you felt a bunch of arms around you, a bunch of head pats and a ton of screams of your name

Which quickly was interrupted by a loud scream by the girl “KYANMA!!”

You look at the stairs where Kenma was standing shaking slightly with big eyes. The girl tried to get close to him, yelling “They are being mean, Kyanma!” but he just runs away towards you

Yes. Run. He hated her, she was so loud and desperate, Kenma literally couldn’t stand her.

“You’re back” says Kenma hiding behind you, showing more happiness that you ever have seen from him

So happy that he went to hug you tightly, he really missed you

“Anyways, now that our team is finally complete you can leave. Please go out” says Kuroo

“Agh! Fine! I’m way too good for you anyways!”

She sends you a look full of venom, but you didn’t really notice it

After all, you had a clingy Kenma hugging you tightly and the rest of the team waiting for one

Inarizaki

After your small break reached an end you finally were ready to go back to your boys

They were having a small hangout in the Miya household

They tried to be sneaky about it, not wanting to invite the girl that was replacing you

But sadly for them, she somehow knew and crash into them before you could arrive

She’s the first person you see when you enter their house with the spare key they gave you

“Who are you?” she asks with her eyebrow raising

“Ehh…I’m Yn, their manager. You helped them while i was out?” You ask back, confused at her sudden presence

“Yes…I actually think I should be the new manager! After all I play like 17 sports and definitely know more than you about sports. What do you think this is? Cheer? Not like it’s a sport, but whatever” she says with a overconfident smirk

In the meantime the guys that were already in the house starting to appear into the hall, confused at how loud her voice was being

“Anyways! Why don’t you leave? A girl like you probably doesn’t even know a thing about sports! We’re gonna play videogames while you probably just want to paint your nails or whatever!”

“Who says you’re staying?” Atsumu says, frowning

“Ha Ha, you’re so funny Atsumu! Of course I’m staying” she says nervous

“No, you’re not” Osamu adds

“I’m sure we can all hang out tog-” you try to say

“You shut it! I bet you don’t know anything about the sport!” She says to you despite you trying to help her

“Really? You barely even know what we play, you just join because you wanted to see hot guys” a voice behind you says, Suna entering the house as he passes his arm through your shoulders

The girl immediately went pale, stammering the next sentence “well…well, I mean, of course I know!”

“Sure, that's why you asked 'if we knew' the rules of basketball yesterday. Just leave, nobody wants you here anyway”

She scoffs annoyed, looking at the rest of the team as if asking for help, which she doesn’t receive. She scoffs one more time, walking towards the door and leaving as she shoots a glare towards you

“You guys are so mean” you say, receiving a chuckle

“She deserved it, if anything she just hinder our practice” Osamu adds

“Besides, nobody talks about our beautiful manager like that” Atsumu hugs you along side Suna

The rest of the team also comes to hug you, and while they were a bit rude, you knew that they only had good intentions

You love this foxes too much

----

Note: a little something about my boys, also, I cringed way too much while writing this

[rosierin]

yer rubbin’ off on me | atsumu, osamu, suna

synopsis; (y/n) accidentally mirrors the twins’ accent and they won’t let it go.

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

When (y/n) first met the Miya twins, she couldn’t understand half the things they said.

They talked fast, used strange words and expression she’s never heard of, and constantly dropped endings from their sentences like it was a race to save syllables. Back then, she’d just blinked politely and pretended to follow.

Now? Now she could understand them a little too well.

Spending years with them in high school was one thing. But living under the same roof? That was a whole new level.

She’d gotten used to their loud hallway arguments, coordinated snack raids, their freaky twin telepathy, even the way they insisted on turning absolutely everything into a competition.

And over time, she started picking up some of their habits.

From Osamu, it was the quiet, practical ones: tapping the lid of a yogurt cup before peeling it off (he says it stops the liquid from splattering), or using a food rating scale out loud—even for the dumbest snacks (“convenience store curry? Solid 6.5. Texture’s mid”).

From Atsumu, it was the mildly chaotic ones—like using her foot to close drawers or nudge doors shut (“why bend down if ya got legs?”), or carrying way too many things at once just to avoid a second trip (she’ll risk it all tumbling to her feet before going back for that one mug).

One thing she never thought she’d pick up was their accent.

Not until today.

They were all chilling in the living room, still in loungewear. A volleyball match was playing on the TV—loud, fast-paced, and dramatic enough to keep Atsumu and Suna locked in, barely blinking. The coffee table was cluttered with mugs, a few snack wrappers, and someone’s hoodie draped over the corner like a flag of surrender.

Osamu sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a recipe book with a pencil tucked behind his ear. Every now and then, he’d pause to squint at the TV, then return to whatever note he was scribbling in the margins.

(Y/n) walked in with a plate of toast and dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

“If y’all are plannin’ on loafing around all day, at least help me with the laundry after breakfast.”

Silence.

Dead silence.

Three pairs of eyes turned to her.

(Y/n) blinked. “What?”

Suna shifted his gaze from the TV, to (y/n). “You just said 'y’all are plannin’.”

“I—” she paused, frowned, then replayed the sentence in her head. “…Did I?”

Osamu looked up, a slow, smug smile spreading across his face. “Well, well, well.”

Atsumu sat bolt upright, mouth hanging open. “She’s usin’ Kansai-ben!!”

(Y/n) groaned. “No, wait—it was an accident.”

“It’s startin’,” Osamu said dramatically, pointing his pencil at her. “Yer becomin’ one of us.”

She flushed, brushing them off. “It was a fluke, guys. Just slipped out. My brain’s tired, okay?”

“I dunno," Atsumu grinned, eyes gleaming. “Next thing ya know, you'll be callin’ people ‘aho’ (idiot) and yellin' 'nandeyanen?!' (what the hell?!).”

“She already does,” Suna added helpfully.

(Y/n) gawked, sitting upright. “No I don’t!”

“Pretty sure you called me 'aho' yesterday,” Suna said flatly, without so much as a glance.

She opened her mouth as she stammered for a comeback—then closed it again, defeated.

Atsumu looked visibly moved, wiping away a fake tear. "'M so proud."

(Y/n) just rolled her eyes, sinking lower into the couch as she pulled out her phone. “Guys, stop. It wasn’t intentional.”

Osamu leaned back, satisfied. “Ain’t nothin’ embarrassin’. I think it’s cute.”

(Y/n) frowned, still trying to hold onto her dignity. “I think you both need to drop it or I'll make you do all the laundry alone,” she threatened—but she couldn’t quite hide the way her cheeks were still burning.

Atsumu pouted. “Whaaat? S'wrong with our accent?”

"Nothin'," (y/n) mumbled.

A beat.

Her eyes widened slightly as the word left her mouth.

…Shit.

The twins exchanged a look, then whipped their heads toward her in unison.

(Y/n) froze. “Wait, no—”

Atsumu and Osamu howled, slapping their thighs like it was the funniest thing they’d heard all week.

Atsumu pointed at her, wheezing. “There it is again!!”

Suna sighed, shaking his head with mock disapproval. “Talking like a real country bumpkin.”

Osamu flashed her a little smirk, raising his mug like he was offering a toast. “Welcome to our world, darlin’.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and took a dramatic bite of her toast. “I’m movin’ out.”

...

“Guys, I swear—”

“NO WAY!!”

An explosion of laughter boomed around the room.

[rinsoap]

SONGS THEY LOVE TO MAKE OUT TO!

✿²˖ ࣪ ➣ includes : suna rintaro. iwaizumi hajime. atsumu miya.

note : me after incorporating my music hyperfixation into all my works. also can u tell im so obsessed with all of these men's arms n hands.

SUNA RINTARO: REDBONE BY CHILDISH GAMBINO

makeouts with suna are always distracting you. this night was no different except for the fact that you're on the floor. well, you're sittting on the rug beside his bed that's pushed up to the wall. he's sitting against it, and you're in his lap facing him. you're on your phone, not paying attention to the boy directly in front of you, too busy trying to instruct one of your project partners on how to use microsoft. suna is not usually jealous. who cares if someone's into you? it's not like they have a chance. you never entertain them anyways. he just misses you. he was out of the city for a week for an away game, and he's hardly kissed you since he left. he's had awaken, my love! by childish gambino playing for a while now, head lolling back on the bed, bored out of his mind. "babyyyy" he hums in complaint after you giggle at your phone. "hold on rin, i'm almost done... god these people are so stupid, i swear i'm literally carrying this project" you roll your eyes as your fingers fly across the screen, the tapping filling the silence until your boyfriend groans and brings his head up to look at your pretty face. the intro of redbone kicks in, and his mind starts racing, thinking about all the times he's kissed your lips to this song. his hand snakes around your waist, and you feel his thumb start tracing hearts into your skin. "you're too pretty to be worrying about school," suna pouts, "you should pay attention to... other things..." his suspicious trail off causing your eyes to flick to his face, but before you could find his eye contact, he was planting kisses onto your neck. "rin," you whine, winding up to tell him off, but he makes his way up to your jaw, grinning against your cheek when you catch his eye. "rin i can't..." you sigh, incredibly receptive to his touch despite your words, dropping your phone still open on your messages to wrap your arms around his shoulders. "you just look so beautiful, can’t stop myself," he mumbles before pressing his lips against yours, hands making their way to hold the dip between your jaw and neck. you lean into his desperate kiss, and when your fingers carress the nape of his neck, you feel him smile. "missed you so much baby"

IWAIZUMI HAJIME: NIGHTS BY FRANK OCEAN

makeouts with iwaizumi always start out polite. it's always just one kiss, something casual, until he starts getting needier. you had dragged your boyfriend into another late afternoon nap, him shirtless, and you wearing one of his faded graphic t-shirts. you're woken by the sunlight beaming through iwaizumi's ineffective blinds. his arm is lazily holding you and he's laying on his stomach, you're on your back. you place your hand on his forearm and hum along to the end of hold on by the internet. you had forgotten you put on a playlist. you hear iwaizumi grunt and you giggle. "you awake finally?" he teases, turning on his side to face you and you do the same. "take a guess, genius" you quip back and he tsks. he doesn't say anything though, chest to chest and noses touching, he just stares into your eyes. sometimes he wakes up with you next to him and he is baffled at how he managed to pull someone as gorgeous as you. his eyes only break from yours to flick to your lips, and you can tell he's trying to be discreet by the way they immediately dart back. the song changes, and you both smile at each other knowingly. you were about to exclaim that he should just kiss you, but he interrupts that thought to oblige, and your face goes hot. his kisses still gave you butterflies despite being with him for so long. you kiss him back, matching the way he deepens it, hands over your hips as he pulls you onto him. you gasp at the sudden nature of it, and he grins against your mouth. you break free and move your hands from the sides of his face to his bare chest, but he pulls you closer to kiss up your shoulder and your collarbones and ultimately brings you back to kiss him. as the beat switches, his strong arms hold you tighter, closing whatever distance the two of you might have had before. he groans in your mouth when your hands tangle in his hair, tugging on it slightly when he quietly mumbles, "i love you". he could kiss you all day if he could, and he acts like it.

MIYA ATSUMU: ONE NIGHT ONLY BY SONDER

makeouts with atsumu are intense and frequent. he loves pda, he's the type of guy to use any excuse to show off his girl, and is that such a crime?! he needs to stop kissing you at parties though, i fear you've become that couple. you were both a little tipsy, and when atsumu drinks, he can't take his hands off of you. so when he started kissing on your neck, you rushed him to the bathroom to avert everyone's eyes from the pda. you shut the door behind you, and atsumu quickly takes the opportunity to close the distance between you two until he had you pressed against the door. "oh, hey," you say with a sarcastic smirk that he matches. "hi baby," he bites his lip, looking you up and down and then back to your eyes, "you look so fucking good... i couldn't stop looking at ya, princess" he knows he's not subtle. your heart beats to the bass of the song playing through the door as he cups your cheeks in his big hands. he leans in to kiss you fervently, leaving you breathless and almost as needy as him. his hands thread through your hair and yours do the same as he nips at your lips playfully. you giggle and he pulls back just enough to speak, resting his forehead on yours. "you're so perfect" is all he says before he starts peppering you face and neck with soft kisses, working his way up back to your lips to capture you in a kiss much more intense comparatively. his hands roam your back, and you melt into his touch as the two of you intertwine. the world fades away, it's just you and him and the song. "hey are y'all done in there or what?" osamu knocks irritably, gladly interrupting you much to both of your displeasure. you laugh, and atsumu rolls his eyes. "yeah yeah whatever," he calls out, planting one last kiss on your cheek before you drag him out of the bathroom, "this will be continued later, promise you baby" he's so corny

[clawsdevour]

you kissed me

wc: 0.3k content warning: post-timeskip, established relationship, drunk!atsumu x reader, fluff, implied drinking/partying, not proofread

* . ‘ .ᤳ

bzzzz bzzzzzz...

the sound of your phone vibrating against your nightstand, interrupting your flow of sleep. a message from your boyfriend this early in the morning?

eyes still dazed and mind still hung over from last night's wild party at suna's. blinking away the grogginess as you attempt to lock in your consciousness despite being half asleep.

gripping your phone from your nightstand that continued to vibrate in the palms of your limp hands, squinting at the bright illuminating screen.

what does atsumu want so early in the morning? you groaned out of exhaustion in your head. the first words at the top of your notifications caught your attention really got you questioning what he did.

atsumu: I'M SORRY!! I'M SO SORRY

half awake and lost, you press on the other notifications under the most recent message that read-

atsumu: DON'T GET MAD BUT...

atsumu: I ACCIDENTALLY KISSED ANOTHER PERSON LAST NIGHT AT SUNA'S PARTY i'm so sorry babe

um, what? that definitely woke you up due to the shock factor that had you spiraling for a moment as you try to recall last night's party.

the whole time you could have sworn that you were with atsumu, just barely drinking anything. okay maybe one or two, but atsumu was wasted!

thinking back, you quite literally don't even remember him being even near another girl. he's only been around his buddies the whole time as well.

coming to a conclusion when you realized, that "somebody else" atsumu's talking about was you. at some point at the party when he was totally out of it, he was bodying his limp and heavy stature on you to give you a simple peck made more complicated than needed.

stupid atsumu.

you: ...

you: you kissed me dumbass

masterlist here

[lovemetsumu]

you and me, religiously ; miya atsumu x f!reader

˚₊ ⸝⸝ ⟶ summary: you were never good at saying how you felt—and neither was atsumu. but the love was always there, quiet and aching, in the way you almost reached for each other but never quite did.

˚₊ ⸝⸝ ⟶ tags: bestfriend!atsumu, childhood friends-to-lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, soft angst

˚₊ ⸝⸝ ⟶ word count: 4k+

˚₊ ⸝⸝ ⟶ notes: just me writing about my fave boy and my fave trope again.

──────── · · · ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* · · · ────────

“you think coach’ll still let me start if i show up late?” suna asked you, monotone, eyes fixed ahead.

you snorted. “not if he finds out you stopped for vending machine snacks again.”

he gave a noncommittal shrug, tapping the volleyball against his hip. “cut me some slack. i just turned eighteen. feels like i should get a pass or something.”

you rolled your eyes. “yeah, happy birthday, grandpa. we're all eighteen this year. it's not that deep.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, gaze still on the hallway ahead. “last year of high school, and we’re still running late to practice.”

you grinned teasingly, “just you, sunarin.”

the gym wasn’t far now, the sound of drills and shouting teammates already bleeding into the hallway. then, without looking at you, he said it—casually, like it was just another update from class.

"atsumu’s transferring back here.”

you stopped walking mid-step, shoes skidding slightly against the hallway floor. “what?” you asked, turning your head so quickly toward suna it made your hair shift over your shoulder.

but he didn’t repeat it right away. just kept casually spinning the volleyball in his hands like he hadn’t just dropped the most shocking news you’d heard in years.

“no—wait,” you said again, voice a little breathless now. “are you serious?”

you searched his face for any sign that he was joking. a smirk. a twitch in his eye. something. but there was nothing—just suna, as unreadable as ever, giving a lazy shrug like it wasn’t the one name you never thought you’d hear again.

your heart was pounding. loud, quick, all-consuming.

atsumu was a memory you’d tucked away so deeply you thought it couldn’t reach you anymore. a name that still made something shift in your chest. and now—he was coming back?

he tossed the volleyball up once, caught it again. “yeah. thought it was already going around. he's starting next week.”

it had been years since you last saw him—back when you were both barely fifteen in the middle of junior high. he said goodbye outside your house, late in the evening. the streets were quiet, just the faint humming of the air. you still remembered the way he stood there under the dim porch light, his bag slung over one shoulder, eyes avoiding yours.

atsumu's voice had barely held steady when he said it, like each word scraped its way out of his throat. his fingers curled tightly into the hem of his hoodie, knuckles pale, like he was holding himself together with the smallest thread.

his eyes never really met yours—not for long. they kept flicking to the side, then back again, like he couldn’t decide whether looking at you made it harder to leave or easier to pretend he could.

the streetlight outside your house flickered gently overhead, casting his face in dim amber. he looked older in that moment. not because of time, but because of everything he wasn’t saying.

his heart was thudding too loud in his chest. he wanted to tell you it wasn’t his choice. that he hated the idea of leaving. that every time he packed a bag or thought about his flight, it felt like he was leaving a piece of himself behind.

“i didn’t wanna leave,” he said quietly, almost like it was a secret. “it was just… my mom’s job. she had to move to tokyo, so I had to go too.”

and then he smiled—tight, fleeting. not bright or cocky like usual, but small, like he was afraid that if he smiled any wider, it’d shatter.

“i’ll see ya, ‘kay?” he said, voice barely steady. “promise I won’t forget, y/n. not ever.”

he hesitated for just a second before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you—tight, like he didn’t want to let go. his chin brushed your shoulder, and you could feel the way he held his breath.

“i'll text you. or, like… send pictures or somethin’. i dunno.” he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes earnest. “i'll keep in touch. i mean it.”

and then he let go—too soon—and took a step back, like staying any longer would make it even harder to leave.

he was gone. and at first, he tried—texts here and there, blurry pictures from tokyo, the occasional call late at night when he couldn’t sleep. you clung to those moments, tucked them away like little keepsakes.

but the messages grew farther apart. the calls stopped. life got louder. you were both just kids, and maybe that’s what growing up does—it pulls people in different directions before they even realize it.

until one day, there was nothing. no calls. no letters. just silence. and with time, you started to believe that maybe he was never coming back.

and then, like a breath you didn’t know you were holding—he was there. a week later, just like suna had said, as if he’d never really left.

it was early. the quiet hum of spring had just begun to slip in through the open windows, the scent of cherry blossoms faint in the breeze. your shoes tapped softly against the floor as you stepped inside, half-lost in thought. you enter the room without hesitation, making your way to your usual seat by the window.

as you settle in, you notice that suna isn’t in his seat beside yours. irritated, you grab your phone and quickly type—where the hell are you? i thought we were supposed to come early, then sit back, waiting for his reply.

the room is quiet until a gentle laugh cuts through the silence.

it was the laugh you’d known since you were little, in sun-warmed days playing tag in the park, scraped knees and shared popsicles, pinky promises made on random lazy summer afternoons. the same one that used to pull you by the wrist across the playground, that whispered you’re my favorite in a boy’s clumsy way—through laughter, and shared snacks, and sheltering you from the rain with a too-small umbrella.

you look up, startled, and there he is, already watching you from across the room.

miya atsumu

he looked the same. and he didn’t. he was taller now, with broader shoulders. his blonde hair still framed his face, and his uniform was worn in that casual, half-cared-for way. but it was his eyes that drew you in—something heavier, something older. they held a quiet intensity.

but the way he looked at you—gentle, surprised, as if he was seeing you for the first time—made his breath hitch for a moment. his eyes, focused and soft, took in every detail of how different you looked now. he noticed the way your hair now fell in waves, catching the light just so, and how your eyes looked like it could light up the entire world.

in that split second, atsumu thought none of the girls in tokyo, none of them, could come close, his lips parted, just slightly. he looked like he might say something.

“....y/n?” he called softly, uncertainty tinting his voice as if he weren’t sure the years had changed you both.

he took a step toward you. then another. and you thought you’d forgotten the sound of his voice, but now that it filled the room—low, a little raspier, softer than it used to be—you knew you hadn’t.

not really.

“'tsumu?” you said, your voice soft—like it might disappear if you spoke any louder.

“god,” he said, “you’re really here.”

the silence between you stretched, but not awkwardly. he looked at you like he was still piecing you back together from memory, and you looked at him like you were afraid to blink in case he disappeared again.

“you’ve…changed,” you murmured, eyes tracing the slope of his jaw, the line of his mouth.

he shrugged, then rubbed the back of his neck—boyish, sheepish, but his eyes never left yours. “you haven’t. not really.”

you smiled, and it hit him all at once—how much he missed that smile, how many nights he’d spent regretting the space that had grown between you. guilt settled quiet in his chest, and he wondered if you were angry with him. if he even had the right to miss you this much. and for a brief second, he found himself thinking if the two of you could ever find your way back to how it used to be—before the distance, before he left.

but whatever he was about to say got lost the moment another voice chimed in behind you.

“there you are!” osamu popped in first, eyes lighting up the second he saw you. “holy shit, i knew it! it was you!” he grinned, barely giving you time to react before he threw an arm around your shoulders, hugging you tight like you were still in junior high. “you haven’t changed one bit,” he laughed, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“speak for yourself,” you teased, smiling up at him.

then came suna, hands in his pockets. “you look the same, but less angry,” he said casually, lips twitching in the closest thing to a smile.

you gave him a look. “this why you ignored my text?”

he shrugged, sliding into the seat beside you. “figured you’d find me eventually.”

“yeah? next time we make a plan, i’m ditching you first,” you muttered, nudging him lightly with your foot under the desk.

osamu chuckled as he leaned against your desk. “some things never change.”

“like you being late?” you shot back.

“hey, at least i brought onigiris this time.”

atsumu hadn’t said a word, but somewhere in between the teasing, he’d moved closer. now, he stood just beside you—quiet, lingering—like something in him had been pulled there before he could think twice. it had been years, but standing next to you again made it feel like no time had passed at all. like if he reached out just a little, you might lean into him the way you used to.

he didn’t, though. instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, let his arms barely brush your shoulder, and said, “jeez, you’re still short. thought you would’ve grown a little by now.”

he let out a soft chuckle, eyes flicking down to you. you could tell he was trying—softening the edges, reaching out in his own awkward way—and so you tried too.

you glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “you’re just freakishly tall 'tsumu,” you said. “it’s not my fault you hit a second growth spurt or whatever.” the words came easier than you thought they would. like muscle memory. like maybe this didn’t have to be as hard as you feared.

atsumu's shoulders eased, just a bit. he thought maybe you weren’t mad after all. maybe this could still be okay. and when you let out a small laugh—barely more than a breath, but real—and flashed him that same smile he used to see after long practices and stupid jokes, it hit him, soft and sudden—this was home. it always had been. wherever you were.

then, in between moments, the bell rang sharp, but not enough to break the feeling entirely. footsteps echoed into the room as more students trickled in, voices rising, chairs scraping against the floor. the teacher entered not long after, calling for everyone to return to their seats.

atsumu lingered for a second longer, then nudged your head gently with his elbow. “see ya later,” he said, tone light, almost too casual.

osamu gave suna a small nod. “don’t fall asleep in the first ten minutes.”

they both turned—and while osamu crossed the room, atsumu circled behind you.

you didn’t turn to look, but you felt it anyway—the way the air shifted as he sat in his chair just behind yours, of course he did. that was always his seat. still is. and somehow, that small familiarity felt louder now than it used to.

you pressed your pen to the page a little harder than necessary. he was right there. this was going to be distracting. you weren’t even sure why it got to you—just that it did. that he was close enough for you to hear the way he exhaled, the soft scrape of his chair against the floor. that if you leaned back even slightly, you might hear him humming under his breath like he used to.

time blurred after that. one class bled into the next—notes scribbled half-heartedly, lessons that barely registered. your pen hovered over your notebook, unmoving, eyes flicking toward the window, and then back—because you could feel it. that quiet, burning stare.

he was seated just behind you. too close. or maybe not close enough. his presence folded into the edge of your awareness like static, never fully gone. always there.

atsumu stretched once, and the motion behind you was slow, languid. a little exaggerated, a little too casual. you felt the back of his shoe nudge the leg of your chair when he settled again, not hard, just enough to make you glance over your shoulder. you didn’t. but he knew you felt it.

the teacher’s voice faded in and out, words smearing into the background. when he answered a question, his voice came from just behind your ear—low, raspy, but quite soft, like sleep hadn’t left it yet. you didn’t mean to notice it. didn’t want to. but it slipped in anyway, warm and steady. it didn’t matter what he said. it was the sound of it. the way it got to you.

you kept your eyes on the board, but the paper beneath your hand stayed mostly blank. a few scattered notes. a sketch in the margin you didn’t remember starting. you were half-listening, half-drifting, when you felt him lean forward.

“what was the thing the teacher said earlier? somethin’ about that definition?”

you blinked down at your notes. “which one?”

“dunno. you wrote it down, right?”

You hesitated, glancing toward the half-finished sentence on your page. the question wasn’t real—not really. he wasn’t looking for an answer. he was looking for a reason.

“you could just listen for once."

you dipped your head slightly, lips tugging into a smile before you could stop it.

“yeah, but then i wouldn’t get to bother ya.”

he let out a faint sound, something like a breath of amusement, like he was smiling into his hand. you didn’t look back, but you could feel it—his grin, lazy and crooked and far too pleased with himself.

you didn’t turn, just kept your eyes on your notebook. “you gonna keep staring while you do it?”

there was a soft shift behind you—the creak of his chair, the faint rustle of fabric as he leaned forward just enough for his presence to press closer.

“can't help it,” he murmured, and you swore you could feel the curve of a smile in his voice—quiet, a little tired, like it slipped out without thinking.

you told yourself not to read into it. it was just a line. just him being him. still, your grip on your pen tightened, and you had to blink down at your page like it could ground you. first day back and he was already getting to you.

then the final bell dragged itself through the halls like a tired breath. you packed your things slowly, letting the weight of the afternoon settle into your shoulders.

beside you, suna stretched in his seat, back cracking faintly as he let out a quiet sigh. the scrape of a chair. the rustle of bags.

osamu wandered over, dropping his bag beside suna’s desk with a thud. “coach’s gonna go hard today, huh.”

suna snorted. “yeah, well, it’s your fault for skipping practice for three years.”

“not my fault we had that whole tokyo thing,” osamu muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“you and atsumu both,” suna said. “hope you like serving drills. you’re gonna be doing them for the rest of the week.”

atsumu leaned back in his chair behind you, legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest like he had something to prove. “try me, i’ll still ace every serve,” he said, all confidence, even if it wavered just a little.

osamu gave him a look. “you were complaining about it all lunch.”

“yeah, well. not in front of suna.”

suna rolled his eyes, and you kept your head down, slipping your notebooks into your bag. quiet, careful, like you weren’t listening—but you were.

you were halfway through packing your things, slipping your notebook into your bag while the boys were still talking—half banter, half complaint. suna said something under his breath that made osamu scoff, and atsumu laughed a little too loud, the sound stretching into the space behind you.

you didn’t look back, but you could feel him glance your way. once. then again. like he was waiting for something—or maybe just working up to it.

“you comin’ to watch practice?”

you blinked, unsure if he was talking to you. your hands hovered over your bag, halfway zipped. the question hung there for a moment, light but deliberate. you glanced over your shoulder.

he was looking at you now—eyes steady, a little too focused for something that was supposed to be casual. and so were suna and osamu—conversations fading, the room dipping into a pause. all three of them watching, like the question needed an answer.

you didn’t say anything at first. just nodded to yourself a little, like you were still thinking about it.

“…dunno,” you said eventually, softer than you meant to.

“she never misses,” suna said, deadpan, already slinging his bag over his shoulder.

you shook your head, smile tugging at your lips. “do you memorize everyone’s schedule or just mine?”

suna didn’t miss a beat. “just yours,” he said flatly, nudging your desk lightly with his foot as he stood. “gotta keep an eye on our number one fan.”

osamu snorted as he got to his feet, and atsumu was rubbing the back of his neck, trying (and failing) to hide a grin.

atsumu huffed. “we’re headin’ now. you should come.”

you hesitated. “i gotta drop something off with the teacher.”

he gave a small nod, like he didn’t want to make a thing of it. “alright. see ya there, then.”

they left together, voices fading into the hallway.

once they were gone, the room felt quieter somehow. still full of leftover noise—chairs askew, papers rustling—but without them, it settled into something gentler. something easier to breathe in.

you took your time packing the last of your things, then made your way to the front to drop off a paper with the teacher. your footsteps were unhurried, almost quiet. no real reason to rush.

instead of heading straight to the gym, you circled around the courtyard, taking the long way on purpose. the breeze brushed your face, the late afternoon sun soft against your skin. it wasn’t about avoiding them, not exactly—it was just… everything had felt a little too much all at once.

you lingered at the hallway corner, just outside the gym doors, fingers curled loosely around the strap of your bag. there were voices inside already—shoes squeaking on the polished floor, a whistle cutting through the air.

and then you stepped in.

the sharp thud of volleyballs hitting the court greets you first, followed by the low calls of names, the rhythm of feet against wood. they’re already warming up—spikes on one side, serves on the other. your eyes instinctively search for suna, and you find him crouched near the net, focused and loose-limbed, his movements precise.

but it’s the opposite end of the court that holds you still.

atsumu stands at the service line, a ball in hand, his body already in motion. you catch the fluid arc of his arm, the way his form slices through the air with such practiced grace that it almost looks like muscle memory brought to life.

then the ball sails.

it spins—fast, controlled, almost cruel in the way it dips just before the line. a perfect serve.

you don’t realize you’ve stopped walking until he’s already lining up another.

he looks up. his gaze catches yours.

and it’s… steady. not surprised, not sharp like before, but something softer—open, maybe. the edges of him aren’t as guarded now. he holds your gaze even as he tosses the next ball, his eyes never wavering until the last second, when instinct takes over and he strikes.

this one lands just inside the corner, making even osamu whistle low from the sidelines.

you shift your weight, unsure of what to do with the heat blooming behind your chest.

suna glances over and gives you a slight nod, as if to say you saw that too, huh? you manage a small smile, one that falters when you look back at atsumu—who’s still watching you, even as osamu tosses him another ball.

there’s something unreadable in his expression. not arrogance, not pride. just a quiet hope.

you sit where you usually do, just beside the gym wall. a little removed, a little safe. suna jogs over on a water break and tosses you a bottle he probably stole from someone’s bag.

“you made it,” he says, voice low and dry.

you nod. “long practice?”

“coach is squeezing blood out of us before prelims.” he leans against the wall, brushing sweat from his temple. “he’s serious about nationals this year.”

you hum in response, eyes drifting back toward the court.

atsumu’s still at the service line, though this time, it’s osamu who steps beside him, saying something only the two of them can hear. atsumu’s mouth pulls into a crooked grin before he sends another serve flying.

when it hits the court, it echoes.

a few minutes pass, filled with the steady rhythm of shoes squeaking and balls thudding against the court. The gym hums with effort, voices rising and falling as drills wind down. when the whistle blows for a break, the players scatter—some toward their water bottles, others to the benches lined along the wall.

atsumu makes his way toward you, towel slung around his neck, sweat glinting at his temples. you don’t look up right away, too focused on the notebook in your lap, the corners curled from how tightly you’ve been holding it. it's only when his shadow stretches over the page that you glance up.

“oh,” you say, blinking. “didn't realize your stuff was here.”

he doesn’t answer right away, just drops down beside you with a soft exhale, the kind that comes after a training that steals breath but feels good in the chest.

you give him a sidelong look, then smile a little.

“you're serving really well today, 'tsumu.”

he pauses, mid-reach for his water bottle, and for a second, something flickers behind his eyes. he masks it quickly—tilting his head, smirking like it’s nothing—but inside, the words ring louder than the ball had when it smacked the court earlier.

“yeah?” he says, casual, wiping his neck with the towel.

you hum in agreement, eyes already drifting back to the court, unaware of how the praise has settled in him.

he chuckles, quiet but real, gaze still lingering on you.

“guess it’s ‘cause you’re watchin’.”

the words come softer than his usual teasing—lighter, but not a joke. and for once, he doesn’t try to cover it up.

you glance at him, but he’s already looking away, pretending to be more focused on the court than he is. but you can see it—the way his mouth almost twitches into a smile, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

there’s a beat of quiet, stretched just long enough to feel like it matters.

“that place we used to go to after practice,” he says, voice casual, like it’s nothing. “it still around?”

you nod slowly, zipping up your jacket halfway. “yeah. still there.”

he reaches for his water bottle, then turns back to you with a look that doesn’t quite match the lightness in his tone—something steadier, warmer, a little more certain than before.

“wanna go after this?”

you pause, caught off guard in that quiet, fluttering kind of way. it’s not a big moment. he’s not making it one. and maybe that’s what makes it feel like one anyway.

you smile—soft, barely there, but genuine. “yeah. sure.”

he doesn’t say anything else, just nods once and turns back toward the court. but the expression on his face lingers like an echo, tucked between something fond and something hopeful.

and for a second, it sits with you—settles in, quiet and familiar, like something you almost forgot the shape of. not just the question, but everything behind it. the ease of old routines. the echo of afternoons spent in the same spots, sharing food and stories and laughter that spilled too easily.

you don’t breathe too hard around it, afraid it might break the spell. because it’s been years, and still, somehow, it feels the same. and maybe, just maybe, it always will.

──────── · · · ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* · · · ────────

© lovemetsumu

[nekomanager]

WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND! ♡

- ONE of TWO -

ATSUMU's blood boils hot for the MSBY Jackal's Road Manager. Your ignorance towards him riles him up irresistibly and he's equally determined to get on your nerves. [Part TWO here!]

🔖 f!reader, pwp, hate to horny to lovers, fingerfcking, squrting, blowjob, 69, pussyeating

Woke up to an amazing breakfast, got a smooth commute to the gym and hit a perfect serve—Atsumu's day was going well, that’s until he saw you.  

His brows automatically knitted together. There you were, walking in your denim pants and hoodie that made you look like a big sack. It’s not as if you were hiding something fantastic underneath and most especially, it’s not as if he’s even curious to undress and unravel you.  

A vexed smirk appeared on his face. Testosterone just surged through him whenever he saw you, and it’s probably because you really piss him off.

You’re MSBY Jackal’s Road Manager for a year now. You assist them with their needs and make sure that they’re well taken care of for every game. You’re attentive, hands-on and very nurturing with the team, except for Atsumu. Yeah, that’s what he thought.  

You laugh with Bokuto, joke around with Shoyo, and speak sweetly to Omi Omi, but you were very hostile with him. You don’t make eye contact, and you barely speak around him. All the interactions you’ve had with Atsumu are because he’s tried to get a reaction from you by riling you up and you coldly ignoring him.  

Now, you’re rushing to the pantry, greeting everyone else except him. Pissed, Atsumu followed you with a plan to ruin your day with his usual dramatic mouth.  

Opening the door, he saw you watching the percolator and waiting for the water to boil.  

“I see...tea, huh? For Omi again?” he asks with an annoyed tone.  

You just looked at him without saying a word then instantly retrieved your gaze back to the percolator.  

Yes, he knew he had quite a reputation with the ladies. Not his fault though, he couldn’t help being so damn attractive. His face and abs are enough proof. However, everytime you’re giving him that snobby dismissive stare, he feels like he’s just a player with nothing good to do. It’s making him to wanna prove you wrong by letting you experience how fucking with him feels so good it’s a gift. Also, maybe he just needed to get you out of his system. 

Tsumu clicked his tongue. “Won’t ya even ask me if I want one too?” 

You sighed and offered without sparing him a glance, “Okay. Tsumu, would you want one?” 

“Forget about it. I’ve long accepted yer favoritism.” 

You opened the packet of tea that rested on the table. “I’m not having any of that now.” The water boiled and you poured some of it in the papercup you prepared. 

Atsumu looked extra handsome today. He’s not wearing the Jackals’ uniform but that of the Olympics’. Anything looked good on him though that’s why you could never look his way. It’s much of a dead giveaway how many hearts would fly to your eyes once you’d lay them upon him. The smallest of interactions you had with him were you trying to survive your nervousness—the nerves you got whenever he’s around.  

You knew he’d never take an interest in you, so you were content with what you both have. Just being able to care for him through the team was enough.  

With your eyes glued on the cup in your hands, you made your way to the exit, but Tsumu blocked your way with his body.  

“Uh-uh not a chance, woman,” he teased and demanded, “Not until you look at me.” 

You gulped. Oh, god no.  

“Y/N” His name on his lips made you voluntarily glance up.  

Your eyes were dewy innocent, and he’s instantly pulled in. His throat ran dry. You were so breathtaking looking up at him like that his dick twitched.  His breath and every inch of his patience were running thin. All he wanted to do now was slam your body against the nearest wall and show you how good he could make you feel.  

The nerves kicked in again and you reflexively stepped sidewards in an attempt to get past him, but he beat you to it. You went for the other side, and he still managed to stop you.  

“Ya can’t run away from me,” he said with a challenge blazing through his eyes.  

You still stepped away, but he took hold of your wrist, causing the hot tea to spill over him.  

“Aw–!” he flinched and panicked.  

“T-Tsumu!” you worried, hurriedly putting down the cup at the nearest counter. You grabbed his wrist and took him away. “The clinic’s just next door.” 

You looked around and the doctor’s not in. “Does it hurt?” you asked. “Well, there’s got to be a Neosporin here somewhere.”  

Tsumu sat in one of the curtain-covered beds just watching you through the gap. A certain warm feeling was rising inside the pit of his stomach. This was the most care you’ve shown him so far and there’s something so special and rewarding about it. It’s a feeling he hadn’t felt with anyone else. 

“Oh, here it is!” you cheered, seeing the tube. You went inside the curtain and turned to him but instantly realized what you were about to ask him to do.  

Tsumu grinned, cheekily. “Would ya like me to lift my shirt?” he asked, teasing you a bit. 

You were just looking away not saying a word, so he did the honors.  

Your breath got caught in your throat at the sight of his muscular torso. You dry gulped and sat beside him.  

“Can- C-Can I?” you asked, still too shy to look at him. Goodness, just the reality of touching him in one of his sexiest places was just too hard to believe. Sparks flew all throughout your body and they subsided between your legs.  

With an ample amount of the burn cream, you dabbed your fingers over his abs. He felt sturdy to touch and you couldn’t help but squeeze your legs together as the funny feeling started to get stronger.  

Tsumu’s breath hitched. Your light touches against his skin were making him feel some typ’a way. He was heaving, trying to control his urges but failed to do so. His crotch already built a tent, a huge one in a hot second and you didn’t miss it. Your eyes immediately took in his breathless lustful expression while he pinned your equally needy gaze. Your breathing started to match his and your chests both rose and fell rampantly.  

Tsumu closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Fuck!” he cursed before cupping your cheeks and devouring your lips in a starving kiss. He’d been wanting to do this for a long time. He’d been wanting to ravage your mouth like this everytime you’d throw some sassy remarks back at him. His lips were wild against yours and he smiled through it. You liked it too. You liked him too. You’re just as needy as him.  

He pulled away just to make sure you’re on the same page. “I thought you hate me.” 

“Tsumu...” you murmured under your breath. You had no idea what he was talking about. 

“Push me away now or I'll mess you up so good if ya don’t,” he whispered against your lips sliding his tongue across your lips which made you open your mouth.  

Oh god. You’re not pushing him away at all and that made him lose all control. His tongue entered your mouth, roaming, exploring, playing.  

How could you even run away now when you’re so weak for him? All this time, you’re just weak for him. Too weak to even catch a glance. Now, his mouth was claiming you, both of your saliva was getting mixed up in your mouth.  

His hands couldn’t stop touching all over you until he began to travel under your pants. The pad of his fingers massaging your pussy right where your clit was. You squirmed in his touch, making you crave more of him. “Tsumu~!” 

“Mhmnn-” his dick got harder. Who knew you could moan so sexily like that? He couldn’t stop himself from grunting as he breathed so hard. “Shit! Y/N...” He was panicking and all over the place as he pulled your pants and panties down in one go. “Oh shit...oh shit...oh shit...” Tsumu hissed upon seeing your yummy pussy. You’re making him wanna put his mouth all over you.  

“Y/N, c’mere,” he said with hands on both side of your hips, dragging your lower body up on his face as he lay down on his back.  

“This- This is! Atsumhm- ahhh--!” Your head tilted back as soon as his tongue met your pussy. With his thumbs parting your lips, he circled, sipped and drank your juices. “Mhmm...Tsumuuu...” 

“So yummy, so beautiful...” he said with a mouthful of you. As if you’re a fruit, he had to suck you so good while his tongue swiped languidly along your clit. Your fluid dripped at the side of his face as he ate you like he couldn’t get enough. You’re just so damn delicious he just wanted to bury his face and feed himself with your pussy forever.  

You just kept on moaning and clenching your jaw in pleasure. Your face falling straight to his crotch. Oh god, he’s so hard. You could feel him poking your nose. With every bit of strength and courage, you freed his desperate and erected cock.  

Goodness…he felt so hot against your hand and you pumped his length just as hard as he already was. “Oh fuck, yer so good~” he moaned against your dripping cunt.  

His reaction encouraged you, taking in your lips around the tip and swirling your tongue around it in the manner he was doing to your pussy. Tsumu was girthy and long. A part of you wondered how he’d fit inside you.  

You bobbed your head taking him in your mouth as deep as you could, while your hand kept doing its best, stroking him up and down.  

“Y/N, you...” he whimpered. Not allowing you to defeat him, he inserted two of his fingers inside you, fingering your hole real fast. “Fuck, fuck you, fuck you...” Your arousal was spraying all over his face. His other hand slapped your ass cheek and squeezed it tight as he ruthlessly pumped you.  

Your mouth let go of him and was now replaced with endless whines, while his fingers filled you. Your legs shook, body trembled as you came around him. His mouth quick on your pussy, drinking you down as you squirt.  

“Fuckin’ tasty,” he said, getting himself up until he’s kneeling behind you. “We’re just gettin’ started.” 

His hands were on your hips as he slid his length in between your legs but not inside of you just yet. He grazes his cock across the lips of your pussy before aligning the tip along your entrance.  

Slowly, he eased himself in. “Sh– goddammit!” Oooh...you feel so good. Your walls were so mushy you’re caving in on him. He’s so close to cumming. 

Your lips and body trembled. He’s so big, his cock stretched you out in ways unimaginable. 

He started moving his hips. His pace was controlled like he was being careful or else he’d cum right away.  

“Y/N, Y/N, fuck...Who knew...who knew you’d feel this good...” he chanted while plowed you with forceful jerks. “Gah-- yer makin’ me crazy-” His strokes were now getting faster and his grip on your hips tighter. He didn’t want this to end so fast but your pussy was eating his cock up that he kept on wanting more more more—! 

“Tsumu, Tsumu, I’m gonnahh...I’m gonna cum again,” you moaned, your fists clenching the sheets. “I-I’m coming!” 

“Cum...give it to me, cum!” he hissed through gritted teeth until the door opened. 

“Tsumu, are you here?” Bokuto asked, footsteps nearing where you were.  

“Stop!” Tsumu groaned, slamming hard against your pussy to finally meet his release. “Yes! Yes! I’m coming! Just- in...a...bit- ugh-!” He popped out his cock, busting his nut all over your ass while you bit your own climax down, careful not to make any noise when the tremors ran across your head and body.  

Your body caved into the bed when drowsiness hit you and your eyes triggered to close. Tsumu sat down beside you, admiring how pretty you looked like all soiled and messed up because of him. His dick was getting excited for another round. He pulled up the blanket to cover you up, turning away from temptation.  He leaned down close as if he was about to kiss you until Bokuto interrupted once more. 

“Tsumu!” the silver-haired called out, finally sliding the curtain. “Hurry up! Wait- Is that Y/N? Is she alright?” 

Tsumu stood up. “She got a li’l under the weather, so I watched over her.” 

Your eyes forced open, trying to get a good glimpse of Tsumu before he goes. He stole another glance at you, leaving you with a promise that sounded more like a warning, “Ain’t done with you yet.” 

@pixelcafe-network

[alpali]

Atsumu stands in the convenience store with pursed lips. Osamu had refused to cook for him so here he is, deciding on what he’s supposed to snack on. He scratches his head in thought.

“That damn jerk.” He mumbles under his breath.

He hears the faint chime of the doors, as they open and close. Then he’s back to concentrating. That is until a girl wraps their arms around his neck. His eyes going wide, as he stumbles a bit.

“What the hell-”

“Baby there you are!” You say a little loud, a waver in your voice.

“Please help me.” You whisper and his ears perk up.

He’s a little weirded out but he can sense the tension in your body. As if on cue a rather sketchy man turns the corner of the isle, staring you down.

His eyes narrow at the man, his arm now circling around your waist. He keeps you tight against him. The man inches a little closer, as if he’s glancing at the products. Atsumu clicks his tongue.

“Ya got a problem?” He calls out to the man.

The man glances up at him. Atsumu towers over him with ease. His unwavering glare and cold demeanor making the man step back. He gently guides you behind him.

“I suggest ya get yer sorry ass outta here. Before I make ya.” He smiles but the man knows better than to believe Atsumu is fucking around.

So with a scoff the man is leaving without another word or glance. You sigh loudly, a breath you hadn’t known you were holding in.

“I’m so sorry!” You shriek, bowing immediately. Atsumu is surprised, quickly trying to get you stop.

“S’fine really.” Atsumu hovers over you, wavering his hands like a mad man.

“Maybe next time be more careful. Don’t go trustin’ people like that.” He lightly scolds and you nod.

“Yer lucky ya got stuck with me though.” He laughs and you feel at ease.

“Please, let me treat you.” You say with a timid smile on your face.

He’s grins at your face. Only then does he really take you in. You’re beautiful and you smelt good too.

“Nah. S’alright.” He smiles, but you’re persistent.

“Please?”

Atsumu blinks and well damn it he can’t say no when you have a pretty face and sweet voice like that. Yet at the last second he pays for the things as you were reaching for your wallet.

You both walk out with different expressions. You’re wearing a pout and he’s staring down at you with a grin. You both stand outside awkwardly for a bit until you ask him a question.

“Sorry but do you know where the station is?”

He blinks.

“Want me to walk ya there?”

“N-No! You’ve already helped me so much.” You laugh nervously and he shakes his head.

“Nuh uh I’m walking ya.” He begins to walk.

“H-Hey!” You yell, falling into step with him. He smiles down at you as you pout.

“Do ya always pout like that?”

“No.” You grumble and he laughs.

You guys make small talk as he walks you to the station, making sure you’re close to him but on the inside of the sidewalk. He introduces himself and you introduce yourself as well.

“Pretty name.” He comments and you flush.

“Thanks.” You mess with your hands and he smiles.

When the station comes into view, he pouts. He didn’t think he’d be this let down at you having to go.

But just letting you go…felt so wrong to him. His heart panged in his chest.

“Well this is my stop.” You smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Right.” He mumbles.

“Thank you Atsumu, you’re very kind.”

“Don’t sweat it.” He waves his hand.

It’s funny.

Two complete strangers, bidding goodbye as if you’d see eachother the next day and the day after that.

A red thread wraps itself around the both of your hearts. And as you both are a distance away.

It tugs.

Causing you both to lock eyes, for what seems to be the last time.

You send him a warming smile and his eyes soften.

With that you’re gone.

Atsumu is left standing there, the bag in hand. He feels rather empty. He walks the rest of the way home with a complete frown on his face.

The next day he’s walking with Osamu through the halls, on there way to volleyball practice. As Atsumu rambles about his sets, his words get caught up in his throat.

And there’s that tug again.

He stops in his tracks.

His eyes scanning everywhere in the hallway. When he looks behind him he finds you there, as if time has stopped.

You both mirror eachother, but Atsumu is quicker.

His eyes sparkle, his smile growing.

And that red thread finally ties its knot.

[fangdokja]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 ~ 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓼

He’s laughing when he drags you into his car.

Not because it’s funny.

Because you don’t fucking get it.

Because he’s had enough of watching you play house with your little fucking crush—the meek, soft-spoken bookworm who tugs your chair out for you, who lends you his stupid little mechanical pencils, who probably prays before bed and never so much as looks at another girl wrong.

Atsumu grips your thigh so tight you feel the blood stop circulating, his nails digging in, his jaw tense as you thrash beside him in the passenger seat.

“Lemme out—!”

“Yeah?” His grin is all teeth, vicious, carnivorous. He yanks the wheel, turning off into an empty lot, tires screeching. “What, ya gonna run back t’yer little nerd? Gonna cry t’him? Bet he wouldn’t even know what t’do with ya.”

He parks.

You try the door.

It’s locked.

His hand tangles into your hair, yanking your head back as he leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“Y’really thought I’d let some little fuckin’ loser take what’s mine?”

A blur—your seatbelt snapping back as he shoves it off you, your back slamming against the leather, his body over yours in the dim glow of the streetlamp.

You know how this goes.

You’ve seen him work before—on other girls, in club bathrooms, against hallway lockers. Atsumu is a predator who likes to play with his food, a fucking king of conquest, and right now, you’re his only war to win.

He yanks up your skirt.

You kick—he grabs your legs, forces them apart, pins you with his weight, and laughs when you scream.

“Pathetic.” He licks the tears off your cheek, hands rough as they shove your panties down. “Bet ya were gonna let him have ya, huh? Spread yer legs nice ‘n sweet like a good little girlfriend?”

You shove at his chest. “Get off—”

He does the opposite.

He’s bigger, stronger, and when he pulls his cock out, the heat of him pressing against you, you realize there’s no escape. Not here, in the quiet, where no one will hear you. Not with him, who has never once taken ‘no’ for an answer.

Your breath catches as he aligns himself. Your nails dig into his wrist, eyes wide, pleading, but Atsumu just smirks.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he purrs, rolling his hips forward, sinking in, ripping you apart.

“I’ll make ya forget all about ‘im.”

The burn is unbearable, his size stretching you beyond your limits. You sob, body trembling, but Atsumu only groans, his pace brutal from the start—deep, fast, each thrust a punishment.

“Bet he wouldn’t fuck ya like this.” His hand wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you see stars.

“Bet he wouldn’t break ya.”

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles

[r1elle]

a different type of affection | a. miya

throughout your relationship, there were times where atsumu had questioned your love for him.

your expressions seemed almost… ‘smaller’ than his. your words lacked the sweet sayings that his sentences would often have.

the way you’d glare at him whenever he did something annoying, (did you not find it funny? he only meant well..)

the amount of times you’d tell him to get off of you whenever he would be drenched with sweat after practices, (when all he wanted to do was hug you after a long day!)

or the fact that you get too hot when cuddling and eventually let go of him, (is it so much of a hassle to stay in his hold?)

but the more that atsumu stuck around, the more that he had noticed the details.

the quiet chuckle and relieved smile that you’d silently give after staring at him—indicating that whatever ridiculous thing he did was the first thing to leave a positive impression on your tiresome day.

the way that, even with the amount of times you’ve complained about him being ‘dirty’, you were always the first one to throw yourself onto his sweaty figure after every game, hugging him regardless of if he had won or not.

the light kiss that you’d plant on his forehead whenever you left his hold, purposely not putting too much pressure so as to not wake him—and how you’d slightly panic when he’d grumble to himself even just a little bit.

and if anyone were to tell him that there would be so much more realizations about you and your ways of showing love, he would’ve felt like less of an idiot in the long run.

so much things became clearer to him.

the way his baby picture was the main picture in your wallet.

the way your onigiri started to ‘coincidentally’ taste exactly how osamu’s did—just how atsumu liked it.

the way his favourite toothpaste suddenly became your toothpaste after he once commented how he didn’t like the taste of your old one.

the way how, when once passing by a room in your house, the sound effects of the video game he had excitedly introduced to you was suddenly being heard, despite the fact that you both had to stop playing the other day because of how bad you were.

and how you were oddly decent at it the next day when you told him you wanted to “try playing a second time”.

honestly? this wasn’t even the whole of it. not even close.

if there was ever something atsumu regretted within the course of your relationship, it was the fact that he was once in the belief that it was solely him ‘putting the effort’.

there was never a need to question your love.

not at all, not ever.

and atsumu made it an everyday vow to make sure you would never doubt, either.

— “i love you.”

“eh?”

“what? i love you.”

“that was random.”

“can’t i profess my love?”

“we’re quite literally in an insurance office…?”

“so?”

“…”

“i love you too.”

made this in honour of the fl’s whose display of love is never talked abt by the fandom bc the ml overshadows them 🙏🏽

guys are u tired of me making atsumu imagines yes or no (don’t say yes pleas)

I WANNA WRITE FOR A DIFFERENT CHARACTER SOON💔.. after exams guys trust.

[forusomimiya]

Atsumu moans like a slut. It's a fact.

He knows that his moans, high or low, create a swirl in your belly, reminding you of how weak you are every time you hear them. Inevitable to hear even though they are a perfect fucking melody, so well intoned, that when they enter your ear, they send a shock straight to your pussy and you, clearly, can only moan in response.

“Ahh darling... so tight you can't stop moaning every time you take me. So much - shit - s-so much you missed me? Huh?"

His moans have become long and drawn out, like torture, sweet torture. Your vision blurs as you find you can't concentrate and you stop resisting the beautiful guttural sound Atsumu sings in your ear.

"Mhmmm babe close... ‘m so - so close nngh shit- hah...so close to fill you up, make you mine... ’cause you want it, don't you? You - want me s-so, soo bad?

You nod, entwining your legs around his waist and urging him to pick up the pace before with a muted warning, making Atsumu to struggle to hold on to the squeeze on his cock, he knows you're cumming with him.

"Yeah - yeah that's it... cum with me pretty girl, remember who - fuck- you belong to. Sing it on my ears, ah~”

[rosierin]

all giggles & glitter │ atsumu miya

synopsis; (y/n) comes home drunk from a staff do and atsumu is tasked to take care of her.

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

It was almost 2 AM when the apartment door slammed open with the kind of force that made Suna lift his head from his phone and sigh through his nose.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

Atsumu, who’d been half-asleep on the couch with a blanket kicked halfway down his legs, jerked upright like he'd been shot. “Huh—wha’?”

From the hallway, Osamu’s muffled voice rang out through the darkness, dry and unsurprised. “Ya break that door, yer payin’ for it.”

“Oopsie…” came the sing-song reply.

Atsumu and Suna stared at the culprit.

There, framed by the glow of the corridor light, stood (y/n). Polaroid camera in one hand, purse in the other, dress slightly askew and glitter clinging to her face like it had a vendetta. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed, and she was grinning like she had just committed a crime and gotten away with it.

She looked like a walking cocktail menu and a night of gossip come to life.

“Oh, great,” Suna drawled, locking his phone and tossing it onto the coffee table. “She’s wasted.”

“I am not wasted,” (y/n) declared immediately, pointing a dramatic, wobbly finger at him.

She took two steps forward and—promptly tripped over nothing.

Atsumu shot up like a bridesmaid ready to catch a bouquet at a wedding, but she miraculously caught herself—arms thrown out, knees bent, sticking the landing like a drunken gymnast.

“SEE?” she announced, chest puffed out proudly. “I'm so graceful.”

“Gracefully ‘boutta crack your head open,” Osamu muttered from his room.

Atsumu was already next to her, placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Jesus, babe, how much did ya drink?”

“I dunno.” She blinked up at him with wide, sparkly eyes. “It was fruity, though."

Suna sighed, leaning back on the couch. “Uh oh. Cocktails.”

“Where were ya?” Atsumu demanded, not letting go of her. “Ya should’ve called.”

“I texted!”

"Who?"

Suna held up his phone. “Me. She just said, ‘imwith the grils gnighttt 🥴💞”

Atsumu leaned down and squinted at the screen, lips pulled into a thin line. “That's not exactly… reassurin'.”

“She’s been out with her work friends,” Osamu added, finally stepping into the living room in a hoodie and pyjama pants, hair sleep-mussed. “Staff do, remember? Dancin’, gossipin’, the whole nine yards.”

“Danced my ass off,” (y/n) confirmed, giving a proud nod. “There was a conga line. I led it. Guys, I was majestic.”

“I’m sure you were,” Suna said, deadpan.

“I was,” she insisted, wobbling slightly. “And you'll never guess what—Sophie actually broke up with her boyfriend—which, to be fair, she should’ve done ages ago—and then Ria told me all about the Sabrina Carpenter concert she went to last week—you know, the pretty blonde girl who sings ‘that’s that me espresso.’ Oh! And I’m pretty sure Morrigan bit a guy at one point, and—”

“She’s spirallin'',” Osamu observed.

He took another look at her, scratching his head as he surveyed the damage. “Alright, let’s get ya to bed before ya end up in the damn hospital.”

“But I’m not tired,” (y/n) whined.

“Yes, ya are,” Atsumu said firmly, already guiding her toward her room.

“No, I’m not—oh my God, my feet hurt.”

Suna raised a brow, eyeing the heels she was wearing. "Not surprised wearing those things."

She gasped dramatically and pointed at him. “You—you are not helping!”

“I wasn’t trying to,” he droned.

Atsumu crouched down and tapped her calf. “C’mon, lemme take yer shoes off.”

(Y/n) placed a hand on her hip and stared at him.

“…What?”

“Are you gonna propose?” she asked, completely serious.

Suna snorted. Osamu sighed. Atsumu turned red.

“That is NOT what I was doin’!”

She squinted. “Are you sure?”

“Just gimme yer damn foot,” he grumbled, pulling off her heels while Suna continued to watch, immensely entertained.

(Y/n) wiggled her toes in relief and let out a pleased hum. “Thanks, ‘Tsum. You’re so nice.”

Atsumu froze.

You’re so nice.

Osamu clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Breathe, lover boy.”

But Atsumu was not breathing.

Meanwhile (y/n) was already tottering toward the couch, flopping down in the middle like it was her royal throne. “You guys though—“ she gestured to Osamu and Suna. “—are being mean.”

Suna tilted his head. “You wanna know what’s mean? Dragging your drunk ass home at two in the morning and expecting us to babysit.”

(Y/n) gasped. “You like babysitting me!”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“…Yes.”

“For the love of—Suna,” Atsumu cut in. “Put her to bed already.”

Suna gave him a long look.

“You do it.”

“She’s your childhood friend.”

“Yeah, which is why I know better than to let a drunk (y/n) anywhere near my bed.”

Osamu pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then just take her to hers.”

Suna clicked his tongue before pushing himself off the armchair. “Fine.”

He then grabbed (y/n)’s arm, but she clung to the couch like a feral raccoon. “No! Noooo, please I wanna hang out with you guys!"

“You can tomorrow—when you’re sober,” Suna grunted, yanking her up effortlessly, ignoring her protests.

“Don’t wanna sleep,” she whined.

“I don’t care.”

“I wanna eat something.”

“No, you don’t.”

(Y/n) turned her big, glassy eyes to Osamu. “’Samu… can I have onigiri?”

“Absolutely not.”

She pouted. “What if I starve?”

Osamu gave her slow blink. “Then I’ll put it on your tombstone: ‘Drank too much, begged for rice, got denied.’”

(Y/n) scowled.

Okay, so one twin was dud.

How about—

(Y/n) turned her big, glassy eyes to Atsumu. “Atsumuuu, say something.”

Atsumu panicked.

He always panicked when she got like this—when her voice went all soft and sleepy and her eyes got shiny and warm and her words came out without filters.

He never knew what to do with her when she was like this. It threw him off completely.

She was usually composed. Witty. A little sarcastic. But now she was… soft. Honest. Childish, almost. And so touchy.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and careful as he slipped his arm around her waist, gently guiding her away from Suna. “Let’s get ya comfy.”

She hummed contentedly and let him lead her down the hall, too tired to fight anymore.

Atsumu guided her up the stairs, one hand steady on her lower back, the other holding all her belongings.

She stumbled once—just a little—and he caught her easily, murmuring something soft and fond under his breath. (Y/n) didn’t quite hear it, but the warmth of his palm on her spine made her shiver.

The bedroom door creaked open, dim moonlight pooling across the floorboards. She blinked at the familiar space, like it was somehow new. Or swaying. Hard to tell.

Even so, as she stood in the middle of the room, she could tell this wasn’t hers.

“Are we in your room?”

Atsumu, already heading toward his wardrobe, nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“’Cause Suna won’t have ya.”

“No, I mean… why are we in your room and not mine?”

Atsumu’s hands faltered. He cleared his throat and mumbled, “Just wanted to keep an eye on ya, is all.”

(Y/n) broke into the broadest grin. “Awwww!”

Atsumu rolled his eyes, but his ears turned a little pink.

A quiet moment passed. (Y/n) started humming to herself, rocking on the balls of her feet like she couldn’t quite stand still. Atsumu glanced over his shoulder and chuckled to himself.

Then he heard her yawn.

He turned back around. She was rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand, voice soft and slightly slurred.

“Hey, Atsumu?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re so…” She squinted at him, smiling dozily. “Tall.”

Atsumu blinked. “...Thanks?”

“You ever notice that?” she asked, waddling over to him and pressing her cheek against his shoulder blades. “You’re like. So tall.”

He laughed under his breath, trying not to combust on the spot. “Alright, c’mon. Bedtime, space cadet.”

He led her to the edge of the bed and eased her down. She plopped onto the mattress with all the grace of a sleepy toddler, swaying slightly like a buoy in the ocean.

Atsumu shook his head fondly, rummaged through his drawer, and grabbed one of his oversized T-shirts at random. It was a little wrinkled, but clean.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Change into this, okay?”

She took it slowly, holding it up by the sleeves like it was an ancient relic. Her brows furrowed.

“…It’s huge.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “’Cause it’s mine.”

(Y/n) gasped like he’d handed her a sacred object. Then—without shame—she brought it to her face and sniffed it.

Atsumu turned red. “Don’t smell it, ya weirdo!”

She giggled. “It smells like you.”

“Yeah, that’s—that’s how shirts work,” he stammered, waving his hands a little too much. “Jesus, yer so—”

“You’re blushing,” she said, delighted, pointing at him like she’d won something.

He dragged a hand down his face. “I hate drunk you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He peeked at her through his fingers. She was smiling at him—soft, sleepy, unguarded—and it hit him square in the chest.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “No. I don’t.”

A knock at the door interrupted them. Suna leaned against the frame, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he said, voice way too casual.

“DON’T SAY IT LIKE THAT,” Atsumu yelled, spinning around like he’d been caught committing a crime.

Osamu’s voice followed from down the hall, dry and muffled. “I’m goin’ back to bed."

(Y/n) just giggled harder, pulling Atsumu’s shirt over her head like it was the best thing that had happened to her all night. It swallowed her frame, the hem almost brushing past her thighs like a second dress.

Speaking of...

Atsumu blinked.

Then frowned.

“Yer just gonna put it on over yer dress?”

She looked up at him, her smile dopey and innocent.

He quirked a brow, mildly concerned, gesturing vaguely at her glittery, slightly wrinkled outfit. “Ain’t that uncomfortable?”

(Y/n) looked down at herself like she hadn’t even realized. She furrowed her brows. Looked back up.

“…No?”

“Yer just gonna sleep in yer party dress?”

She squinted at him suspiciously, like she was about to be tricked. “Are you making me take it off?”

Atsumu faltered, thrown off by the phrasing.

“What? No! I just—I meant—you don’t have to, I just figured you’d wanna, y’know, change properly.” He waved a hand, flustered. “It’s fine. Ya don’t have to.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.

Then he noticed the pout on her face.

“…What’s wrong?”

“Help me,” she said, tugging at the hem of her dress like it had suddenly become unbearable. “It’s itchy. Not comfy.”

Atsumu stared at her.

Like, really stared at her, and processed her words.

“Ya want me to undress ya?”

She let her arms droop by her sides in utter defeat. “Mhmm.”

His brain screeched to a halt.

Cogs turning. Morals clashing. Hormones threatening to riot.

This was a test. This had to be a test. And God—was he about to fail it?

He dragged both hands down his face and knelt in front of her slowly, like he was approaching a bomb with a pair of scissors and no idea which wire to cut.

“I can’t,” he said, voice firm but way too gentle. “Sober you would kill me."

She was giving him a look.

That look.

Eyes round and shiny, lips jutting out in the softest pout he’d ever seen in his life. She looked so genuinely pitiful, so impossibly cute—it was a miracle he didn’t spontaneously combust.

He almost caved when she murmured, all breathy and helpless—

“Please.”

His hands twitched toward the hem of her dress.

Then froze.

Then twitched again.

He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally reciting the rules of being a decent human being. He was not gonna be that guy. He liked being alive. He liked her trusting him.

Then, like a gift from the gods—

“Atsumu, don’t you fuckin’ dare."

Osamu’s voice rang loud and righteous from downstairs, like the ghost of judgment incarnate.

Atsumu flinched like he’d been slapped by the universe.

He stood up fast, cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair like it could somehow smooth out the chaos inside his head.

“Right,” he said, a little too loudly. “Don’t ya need to do your skincare?”

(Y/n) blinked, distracted instantly. Her pout vanished. Her eyes lit up.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, “you’re right—my skin!”

She stood with new purpose, looking momentarily sobered by the sheer urgency of her nightly routine. Then she turned and scurried toward the hallway, bumping her shoulder against the doorframe on the way out.

Atsumu let out a breath as soon as she was gone.

Close call.

Atsumu sighed again and stood, shaking his head like it could somehow reset his brain. It didn’t.

He lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching the empty hallway, then rubbed the back of his neck and wandered out.

She’d been so determined about her skincare, and considering she’d just walked into a doorframe five minutes ago… she probably needed help.

He padded down the hall and stopped just outside the bathroom. The light was on, and from inside came a flurry of clinks, clatters, and a loud “ow!”

He knocked once. “Ya need help?”

There was a pause. Then a crash. Then—

“Yes please.”

He sighed again—but it was smiling this time.

Pushing the door open gently, he found (y/n) crouched on the floor, holding the lid of a serum bottle in one hand while the rest of the serum dripped in sad little globs onto the tile.

She looked up at him with watery eyes, the very picture of tragedy. “That was expensive.”

Atsumu huffed a laugh and crouched beside her. “C’mon, princess. Let’s save what’s left for yer pretty face.”

He helped her up and carefully lifted her onto the bathroom counter like it was second nature. She let her legs swing gently while he picked up the scattered bottles, reading the unfamiliar labels with mild confusion.

“Ya got a whole science lab in here,” he muttered, uncapping the cleanser.

“Uh-huh, that's what skincare is,” she said, wiggling her fingers mysteriously. “It's more than a routine. It's a ritual.”

“Sounds dramatic.”

“Skincare is dramatic, if you think about it.”

He snorted and wet a cloth with warm water, gently dabbing at her face to clean off the remnants of the night. Glitter came off in waves.

“What's with all the glitter?"

“Morrigan and Ria wanted to be disco balls."

Atsumu let out a slow exhale. “Not surprised.”

She giggled, leaning forward so her forehead bumped lightly against his. “You’re being very sweet, y’know.”

“I’m always sweet,” he said, carefully smoothing a little serum across her cheeks.

She gasped softly. “It’s cold!”

He smiled. “It is. You keep it in the fridge or somethin’?”

“Apparently that's what you're meant to do,” she mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as he worked. “Don’t stop, though. Your hands are really gentle…”

He paused for half a second at that.

Then recovered. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” she sighed. “Like… real boyfriend material hands.”

Atsumu’s lips quirked up. “That so?”

“Mmhm,” she said again, more sleepily this time. “You could probably get me to do anything with hands like that.”

His hand stalled on her jawline.

“…Anything, huh.”

(Y/n) didn’t seem to notice. She was in her own little skincare dreamland. “Like if you told me to… I dunno, rob a bank? I’d be like, ‘sure, as long as you apply my SPF for me after.’”

Atsumu tried not to laugh, but it came out anyway—low and warm. “Yer dangerous when yer like this.”

“I’m just relaxed,” she murmured, eyes still closed. “You’re the one touching me... making me feel like this."

A short pause.

"Like what?"

Atsumu didn’t look up. He was too focused on the task at hand—spreading the serum evenly, making sure he didn’t miss a spot, acting like this was nothing.

That being said, he still didn’t miss the way she shifted. The way her fingers gripped the hem of the oversized shirt, twisting the fabric absently in her lap.

He didn’t tease her, though. Didn’t say the million things he wanted to. Just glanced up at her, and chuckled—soft, knowing—relishing the warm flush blooming across her cheeks.

Whatever she was thinking… he’d get her to admit it someday. When she was sober.

When he could finally ask and have her mean it.

He gently tapped her chin to tip her head up, fingers warm against her skin as he patted in her moisturiser with slow, practiced care. The act was clinical for the most part. Practical.

Until somehow, it wasn't.

Not when (y/n)'s breath hitched softly. Not when her lashes fluttered open and she looked at him—half-lidded, soft, vulnerable in a way that made Atsumu's stomach twist.

His hand lingered for a moment too long.

And then the air felt different. Thicker. Slower. A little quieter.

“You missed a spot,” she whispered, pointing vaguely at her cheek.

He leaned closer. “Where?”

“Here,” she said, tapping her face.

He raised a brow. “There’s literally nothin’ there.”

“You don’t know that,” she said, lips twitching. “You’re not the expert.”

He huffed another laugh. “Fine. Lemme just—”

He pressed his thumb gently to the spot, smoothing out the remaining product.

The silence stretched.

Then—

“Y’know,” she said, voice soft, “you’re kinda good at this. I might make you my official skincare applier.”

Atsumu grinned, stepping back and putting the lid on the moisturiser. “Add it to my résumé.”

“You’d look cute in a spa uniform.”

“Yer flirtin’.”

“I am,” she agreed cheerfully.

Atsumu shook his head, turning away so she wouldn’t see the way his ears were going red again. “Hop off the counter, you menace. Time for bed.”

“You gonna carry me?”

He quirked a playful brow. "Do ya want me to?"

Then she tilted her head, all soft and hopeful and tipsy.

“Will you actually?”

Atsumu hesitated.

Rolled his eyes for show.

Muttered something under his breath about being too nice for his own good.

And then, without warning, he bent down and scooped her up bridal style.

(Y/n) yelped, laughing as her arms flung instinctively around his neck.

He smirked down at her, trying to play it cool despite the fact that his entire nervous system was buffering. “Told ya I was sweet.”

“You’re my knight in soft cotton sweatpants,” she said dreamily.

He chuckled. “Yer heavy, is what you are.”

“Liar. I’m dainty.”

“You’re deadweight.”

Still giggling, she nestled her head against his shoulder. “You love this, really."

He didn’t answer.

Mostly because she wasn’t wrong.

He pushed open the bedroom door with his foot and carried her to the bed, dropping her gently onto the mattress like she was something fragile. She bounced once and flopped backward with a laugh, limbs spread like a starfish.

He stood above her for a second, staring.

She looked… happy. Sleepy. Safe.

“Get in,” she said, voice muffled against his pillow.

Atsumu raised a brow. “You’re takin’ the whole bed.”

She peeked one eye open. “There’s space.”

With a sigh that was more resigned than annoyed, he slid in beside her, resting on top of the blanket while she curled up underneath. Her hair was still damp from the steamy bathroom, fanned across the pillow like a halo. She started talking immediately—half stories, half thoughts—just sleepy little musings that spilled out like honey.

“I wish work let us wear comfy clothes. I’d be so much nicer if I could wear sweatpants.”

“Mhm.”

“And if customers had to bring us snacks. That should be the rule.”

“Mhm.”

She turned to face him, nose nearly touching his. “I could never work with you though.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’d distract me.”

“Oh?”

“With your face.”

He huffed a laugh through his nose, not trusting himself to respond.

She kept talking—less coherent now, voice softening with every word. He thought she was drifting off, but then her hand slipped out from under the covers and landed lightly on his chest.

Then her head followed.

She scooted over, tucked her face into the curve of his shoulder, and let out a little sigh of contentment.

Atsumu froze.

Fully, completely froze.

His entire body went taut like someone had just hit the pause button on his soul. His heart thundered in his ears, his brain scrambled for a single logical response, and every cell in his body screamed don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t ruin this.

And then… she started snoring.

A soft, barely audible, but real snore.

Atsumu let out a shaky exhale, blinking up at the ceiling with wide eyes.

Tonight was gonna be a long night.

A very long night.