#atsumu miya x fem reader

[heavenlyakin]

Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat  

- Atsumu Miya x Fem!Reader

cw: loosely based on the movie 10 Things I Hate About You, college au (set in America as well), reader is in a sorority (this author was never in one so sorry if I made up shit), reader goes dress shopping, mentions of eating, drinking, dancing, kissing, groping, and sexual themes. Not edited!

a/n: for @bloompompom romcom collab! I hope y'all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. The songs in the story are Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat by Del Water Gap, Mr Brightside by The Killers, and Dance Dance by Fall Out Boy.

wc: 5.4k 

--

You drop your backpack on the ground beside the picnic table Vera has claimed outside the student union. She looks up from her laptop to smile at you but you shake your head. 

“Bad day?” 

“Bad day,” you confirm. “Fuck math, honestly. I don’t even need it for my degree, the university just requires it so they can drain our bank accounts even more.” 

“Have you eaten today?” She laughs, sliding you her lunch box, three Onigiri sitting perfectly in it. 

“Osamu drop by again?” You ask, picking the one closest to you. 

“Mhmm,” she hums. “He just went to take his brother some. He’ll be back.” 

You roll your eyes at the mention of his brother. Atsumu Miya, the star setter of the university’s volleyball team. Arrogant, flirtatious, and insufferable to be around. Since Vera started seeing Osamu, you’ve been caught in the crossfire since wherever one twin is, the other is sure to follow. Unfortunately, your love for your friend outweighs abandoning her when he shows up. 

So you’ve put up with his insistent flirting, his stupid jokes, and his innuendos when he’s drunk. 

Osamu kisses the top of Vera’s head as he sits down, muttering something in her ear and making her smile and smack him. He’s been teaching her filthy phrases in Japanese, and apparently, she liked this particular one. 

“How was Atsumu?” Vera asks Osamu, nudging him with her elbow. 

You look at her and frown. She has that look on her face that indicates she’s up to something. 

“Oh great!” He smiles at her and then looks at you. “-----, I was actually going to ask-” 

“Stop. Stop right there.” You hold up your finger to him. 

“You don’t even know what he’s going to say!” Vera smacks your finger away. “Listen to him.” 

“Fine,” you roll your eyes and force a smile. “What is it?” 

“Atsumu,” he starts and you sigh, “he’s not adjusting well. He acts like he is but when he’s at our apartment, he never comes out of his room unless it's for class or practice.” He takes a sip from his water bottle before continuing. “He needs someone to go out with and I know he likes your company.” 

You scoff but Osamu doesn’t budge. “How? I’ve not been nice to him since I met him.” 

Osamu smiles, “I think he’s into that. Caught him listening to “She’s So Mean” the other night, actually.” 

You look to Vera and her eyes are pleading. You know from a conversation with her that she hasn’t slept with Osamu yet, but she wants to. It’s probably because Atsumu never leaves the apartment and is killing their mood. 

“You both owe me. Big time.” 

“I just so happen to have two tickets to your favorite band next month,” Vera says casually, taking a bite of her own Onigiri. 

“Since when? Those were way overpriced when we checked!” You frown, looking at her shrug. 

“Got ‘em the day after.” She says through a mouth full of food and you laugh. 

“Fine, I’ll do it for the tickets. Just tell me how to get Atsumu to go out with me.” 

“We have the formal next week,” Vera smiles. “He knows about it since Osamu is going with me. Just ask him to do that.” 

–

The hallway smells like sweat and dirty socks outside the boy's locker room. You wonder how they can stand it themselves, but realize they’re probably nose-blind to it after years of smelling it. You lean against the wall, hoping it’s not going to ruin your white sweatshirt. 

Men trickle out, one by one, soaked with sweat or wet from their shower. You hope it’s from the shower. You’re ready to give up when you spot his blonde hair. Atsumu Miya is wearing a university-branded black sweatshirt and matching sweats. He has a gym bag thrown over his shoulder and he’s laughing with a teammate. 

His eyes catch yours and he looks away. His facial expression changes, his eyes lighting up as he realizes it’s you. He says a few more words you can’t make out to his teammate before strolling towards you. 

“Hey, —--, what are you doing here?” He asks, that sleazy grin on his cheeks. 

Fighting back an insult, you grin. “So, this is embarrassing really.” You twirl a strand of hair between your fingers. “My sorority is hosting a formal in a week, so I wondered if you’d be my date.” 

His eyes widen for a moment, but he nods. “I would love to be your date.” Then something on his face changes. “In exchange for something, however.” 

“What is it?” You frown, irritated he’d even think this was a negotiation. 

“We have a banquet for the team in two days. Come with me to that, and I’ll go with you to the formal.” Atsumu’s smile is confident, but something in his eyes tells you he’s worried you’ll walk away. 

“Fine. You have to buy me a new dress for it though. I already bought one for the formal, but I am not about to buy one for the banquet I don’t want to be at.” 

He laughs. “I don’t really want to go either, but since we won this year’s tournament, we kinda have to attend, y’know.” 

You nod, understanding. You don’t want to attend the sorority’s formal or be in the sorority either. However, Vera begged you to join and you know it’ll look good on your resume. So you’ve been in it for the last year and a half despite hating most of the events.  

“Meet me at the mall later? Seven o’clock?” 

“Sure,” he smiles at you and you give a quick one back before walking away. 

The walk back to your apartment is chilly, so you pull on your hoodie. The weather is quickly turning, and the leaves changing on the mountains around your campus. Vera isn’t in the apartment when you get home, as usual since she pretty much lives with Osamu now. You don’t mind, especially since she doesn’t leave messes around the apartment when she’s gone. 

Somehow, you manage to kill two hours between playing Stardew Valley on your Switch and scrolling through socials on your phone. You notice it’s nearing seven. Groaning, you get off the couch and force yourself to take the elevator down to the parking garage to your car. 

Atsumu is standing in the food court when you walk into the mall, finding it strange that he’d know this is where you would like to enter from. When he turns around, he’s holding two smoothies. One, half gone as if he’s been here a while. He holds it out and you thank him. 

“Vera said you like strawberries and bananas,” he tells you and you nod and thank him. It’s a very kind gesture, something he didn’t need to do. It softens you up a bit, whether you like to admit it or not.  

“Were you here with her and Osamu?” You ask after taking a long sip. 

He shakes his head no. “She was at the apartment. I think they were rushing me out.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand like he’s uncomfortable. 

“Ah,” you feel for him, you do, but he can be annoying so you understand Vera. “Well, let's get a dress then.” 

He follows you down the mall hallway, not saying anything but a few comments on the stores you pass. Most of them are either hosting sales for the coming holidays. You insist you don’t want to go look for anything but something to wear to his banquet. Once in the boutique where you bought your formal dress, you pull him over towards the side with your favorite colors on the rack. 

“I can’t get anything green,” you tell him. The dress you bought for your formal is a strappy emerald green, so you’d rather have something in a different color. 

“What about purple?” He asks, holding up a long-sleeved plum dress. The fabric looks soft, but like it’ll cling awkwardly. 

“I like the color,” you take it from him, feeling the fabric. “But, this might get hot in a crowded room.” You hang it back on the rack. Another look through the purple dresses, you see that it’s been picked through. “I guess we have to try a different color.” 

“Black is always a good look, classy.” He tells you and you roll your eyes. 

“Now I don’t want black,” you tell him with a sweet smile and he rolls his eyes now. 

“What other colors do you like?” He asks as if he’s genuinely trying to help. 

“I don’t know. I don’t like shopping when I don’t know what others are wearing.” At least when you were shopping here with Vera, the other sorority sisters were here too so you could all know what one another was wearing and coordinate to an extent. 

“I’m wearing a black tux with a blue tie.” 

“What color blue?” You ask. 

“Um,” he looks around, sipping on his smoothie. He walks down a few racks. “This shade.” He holds out a baby blue dress. It’s very cute and would look nice on your curves. 

“Let me see the sizes they have,” you sigh, not sure about the color despite the shape. They do have your size, so you go to the dressing room, to try it on. 

You were right, it hugs your body in the places you want. You open the door, letting Atsumu see it. His eyes go bright and wide when you meet them and you cover your body with your arms and shut the door. 

“What?” He whines, knocking on the door. 

“Don’t look so surprised.” You tell him. 

“I’m not! I knew it’d look good on you, and I was right! I was just excited to see it.” 

You open the door, letting him see you again. “I do like it.” 

“Then let me buy it for you.” He grins, leaning forward so his face is just above yours. 

You freeze, feeling his breath on your skin. This is the closest you’ve been to him since you met him. You know it���s impossible, but you swear you can feel the heat from his body leaching yours away. 

You step back. “You really don’t have to. I was just being an ass earlier. I can buy my own-“ 

“No, I insist.” He smiles, taking the dress from your hand. 

You don’t fight him as he walks up to the register, paying for the dress and then asking you if you have shoes that’ll match. You inform him of your shoe addiction and assure him you’ll have something that looks good with the dress. 

“Y’know, I also collect shoes. Mostly sneakers though, nothing fancy like I’m sure you have.” Atsumu keeps the conversation going as you walk back to the food court. 

“Mine is nothing fancy either.” You smile at him, a genuine smile. Maybe he isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s just because he’s trying to butter you up so you don’t decide to go back on your agreement to go to the formal and banquet with him. 

It’s definitely the latter. 

“Have you had dinner?” You ask and he shakes his head. 

“Your bestie rushed me out before my noodles finished microwaving.” 

You laugh at the way bestie sounds on his lips. You find yourself wondering if there’s a Japanese equivalent to the slang word but stop yourself from asking. You don’t have to befriend Atsumu to get tickets to the concert, just go on these two side quests with him. 

“Can I at least buy you something as a thank you for the dress?” You ask and he smiles at you, his teeth shining… but you notice a berry seed stuck between two of his teeth. 

You don’t tell him about it, but find yourself thinking about how adorably childlike it was. You shake your head, clearing the thought, and then gesture to the multiple food establishments around you and him. 

“Noodles? Sandwiches? Pizza?” You ask, eyeing the different booths. 

“I think I’ll go with Chinese,” he tells you. “Unless you want something else.” 

“I love Chinese,” you tell him and follow him to the vendor. 

After ordering your food, you sit across from him at one of the less dirty mall tables and awkwardly eat together in silence. It’s not that you have nothing to say to him, it’s just all your thoughts happen to be funny insults or sarcastic remarks. 

So you keep your mouth preoccupied with the mall Chinese food. 

–

Two days pass incredibly quickly. That happens when things are coming up that you don’t particularly look forward to, you suppose. You have about three hours until Atsumu told you he’d pick you up on Snapchat. You weren’t about to give him access to your phone number. Plus, you have a secret habit of stalking people on the SnapMap feature. 

You decide it’s time to get ready, so you do. By the time you’re showered, dressed, makeup and hair done, it’s just a few minutes before Atsumu is due at your door. Tossing your lipstick and gloss into your clutch, you sit down on your bed to slip on your strappy silver heels that look good with the dress Atsumu picked out. 

For a split, unpredictable, second you begin to wonder what Atsumu will think of your shoe choice. 

You shake your head, clearing the thought and making your hair bounce around your face. Pushing it out of the way, you stand up and head to the living room. As you approach the center of the room, the knock at the door startles you. Glancing at your phone, you see he’s a few minutes early. 

“Hey!” He’s dressed in a black suit, with a light blue tie that matches your dress almost perfectly. 

“Hi,” you don’t smile, but you don’t grimace at least. Shutting the door, you lock it behind you, no longer worrying if Vera has her key or not. She can always go to Osamu’s. 

The drive to the sports campus isn’t long, honestly if you weren’t wearing heels it would be a nice walk with the slightly warmer evening you’re having. Atsumu plays a band you don’t recognize, but you enjoy it silently. 

I don't want anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do, like me

Is it okay

That I don't want anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do, like me?

The last time it plays, you hum along and glance over to Atsumu who is mouthing the lyrics. You can’t hate him for having a decent song playing. You smile looking back out the window. Maybe he isn’t who he likes to portray himself as at those parties you’ve been to where he’s been a total douche. 

Atsumu parks outside the volleyball center, pulling into one of the closest spots he can find to the walkway, which you appreciate. These shoes are comfortable enough for a few hours but you don’t want to push it, especially when you like to walk to campus as much as possible during the week. Having blisters for the next two days and then your formal on Saturday would be a bitch. 

Your hand grazes Atsumu’s hand and you pull it back closer to your body, cheeks warming. You keep looking forward, despite feeling the burn from his eyes on you. He must have that signature smirk on his lips, but you can’t bring yourself to look. 

He holds the door open and you can hear the music filling the hallway from the gym. When you make it inside, you see it’s been transformed from the standard gymnasium into a beautiful banquet hall. The hardwood floor has been covered in a dark carpet and the drapes cover the high ceilings and bleachers around the room. 

“Wow,” you dazzle at the room, taking in the beautifully set tables and the gorgeous people filling the room. 

“Pretty cool right? Looks nothin’ like the gym usually does.” He grins, holding his arm out. “I’ll show ya to our table.” 

You take his arm and let him lead you. It’s towards the front and you notice it;s organized by rank. He’s a third year, and a starter, so he gets to sit at the front row of tables. He pulls your chair out and you sit next to the dark haired man already at the table. Atsumu introduces him as Sakusa, he knows him from back home in Japan. 

Sakusa doesn’t seem interested in continuing the conversation so you don’t press. You’ve been there after all.

Turning your attention to Atsumu, you listen in as he talks to another player, who’s name you’ve forgotten. They discuss their last game, the setter dump Atsumu played to win the match. They both talk so enthusiastically you almost wish you’d been there for it. It was hosted here, and Vera went with Osamu. 

You’d chosen to stay in and read one of the books you’d been assigned for your Victorian Lit class, claiming it was more important than school spirit. Really, you were just avoiding seeing Atsumu anymore than you have to. 

Atsumu stops talking when someone takes the mic, you look up to see it’s their coach. He gives out some awards, two of which go to Atsumu. You clap for him and cheer the second time. He blushes as he sits back down. You don’t push away his hand when he places it on your knee underneath the table. 

“With that, I conclude the season. I’m proud of each of you boys. Enjoy the rest of your night!” The coach steps off the stage and “Mr. Brightside” starts blasting across the speakers in the gym. 

Boys and their dates get up, rushing to the center of the room where a dance floor has been staged. They all look so excited and happy to be here. Without turning your head too much, you look over to Atsumu. You don’t want him to notice you watching him, but you see a longing in his eyes you can’t ignore. 

“Wanna dance?” 

“We don’t have to…” he stares off to the crowd again. 

“Oh, come on.” You stand up and take his hands. 

Jealousy

Turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

Choking on your alibi

He walks with you as you try to not trip walking backwards to the dance floor quickly. Atsumu’s eyes are bright and wide as you spin him around at arm's length. He laughs and so do you. He pulls you in closer, starting to jump at the same beat as everyone else on the floor. 

“I’m comin’ out of my cage!” he shouts. 

“And I’ve been doin’ just fine!” you finish and he laughs, spinning you around a few times as the music plays and your head spins. 

“How did it end up like this?” 

“It was only a kiss!” You’re now in each other’s personal space shouting the lyrics and jumping and laughing to the music. 

Just as the song is about to end, someone bumps into you and you fall against Atsumu’s body. He holds you against him, catching his breath and smiling. His eyes don’t move from yours as you straighten in his arms, body flush with his. He’s just millimeters away. So close you can feel his breath on your lips. 

He closes your eyes and your stomach erupts into butterflies. 

You push him away. 

–

The morning of your formal, you think about texting Atsumu to cancel.

The last few nights have been fitful attempts at sleeping. Your dreams are full of Atsumu and self loathing for not taking the opportunity you had to kiss him. You wanted to, you did. In fact, you’ve never wanted to kiss anyone more when you think about it. 

However, it would make this messy. You can’t fall for someone you’re being paid to haul around. So you decide to not cancel. 

You have to go to support the new pledges and you agreed to take him for the concert tickets. So you go through the day, still ignoring the multiple unread snapchats you have from Atsumu until you get a text from Vera. 

Text him back, bitch. He won’t stop freaking out at me and Samu. This is our deal!

You reply with an emoji and open the snaps from Atsumu. 

Hey… sorry about last night. 

I hope I didn’t freak you out. 

—--, please answer me. I’m sorry. 

Hey, what time should I pick you up tonight? 

You see his bitmoji pop up as you start typing and you sigh. You lie about coming down with a cold the last few days and then let him know you’re all good for tonight and he should get you at eight. You can’t help but smile knowing he was freaked out that you weren’t answering him. 

By the time eight rolls around, you’re ready and waiting by the door. He arrives on time and smiles as he looks you up and down. You can’t say it doesn’t flatter you, but you’re already on edge after him almost kissing you… 

Or was it you who went in first? 

No… no it was him. It had to be him. 

In the car he plays that song again. 

I used to call you my best friend

Way back before you were my everything

Now I’m sucking your neck 

And you wrote my favorite song

Now I’m fucked up and carrying on 

I do not know the words to it yet, oh 

And it hits me

I don’t want anybody else touching you like I do 

Like I do, like me 

You hum along with him, before asking him the name of it. He shows you his phone while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. You favorite it on Spotify then put your phone back in your purse. 

“We’ll probably have to park in that garage a few blocks from the house. We’re not going to be able to find any parking near it.” You tell him as the music fades out and another song starts. 

“Oh good idea,” he says, turning on his blinker to turn towards the garage nearby the sorority house. 

The walk towards the house is littered with other members and their dates for the night. You stay far enough away to where waves suffice as an acknowledgement of their presence. You’ll have plenty of time to socialize once you’re inside. 

“Did Vera say when she’s coming with your brother?” You ask as you both start up the steps to the main entrance of the house. 

The sorority house has been completely transformed from living quarters to an elegant formal event. Furniture is sparse besides high tables and some bar stools for those tables. The living room still has the comfortable couches, but they’re pushed up against the walls and full of the new pledges waiting who must be too shy to mingle just yet. 

“I think they should be here now,” Atsumu finally answers. 

You look around. “I’ll go get us a drink and then we can look for him.” 

On the way to the kitchen you run into several girls who want to know just how you got Atsumu to come with you. You just laugh and make a few jokes about it before finally getting two cups of champagne and bringing them to Atsumu. 

He’s flocked by a few of his friends, and Osamu. You hand him the drink and then walk away, no longer feeling obligated to keep him company. Vera is standing with a girl named Heather who’s the president of your chapter of the sorority. 

You join them in conversation before Heather is swept away to handle something with the pledges. 

“Where’s Atsumu?” She asks, dragging out the last vowel. 

“Where’s Osamu?” You mimic. 

“Looks like they’re having a good time with each other.” She says and you nod, taking a sip of your drink. “Thank you for bringing him.” 

“Eh, it’s worth the tickets.” 

“Shh,” she hushes you and you roll your eyes. 

“He won’t find out, it’s fine.” The music is way too loud for him to overhear you. 

“I think he likes you,” Vera says after a few moments of listening to the new song that’s started. “He’s been a mess for a few days since you didn’t answer him.” 

You frown, this definitely was not something you had accounted for when you agreed to bring him to this as your date. 

“Did you know he would-” 

“Hey, wanna dance?” Atsumu interrupts and you frown again at Vera before nodding to him. 

“Sure,” you pound the drink, handing the cup to Vera before taking his hand and going to the dance floor. 

The music is loud and all consuming. So many people are dancing, you don’t even notice Atsumu much, besides when his hands slip around your waist and you wiggle away from him as nonchalantly as possible. 

He doesn’t stop though, and you like it despite knowing this isn’t making it easier on him… or you.  

A few songs pass before someone calls out for some shots, and everyone runs to get one but you and Atsumu. He looks at you and takes your hands in his. 

“Want a drink?” He asks. 

“Eh,” you shrug. “The champagne doesn’t do well with all this dancing. 

“We don’t have to keep dancing,” he grins and you avert your eyes. 

“I’ll be right back.” You tell him, walking off and towards the stairs you’d seen Vera go up a song or two ago. 

If Atsumu had feelings for you before this started, it was fucked up of Osamu and her to make this deal with you. You want to call it off. Let them go to the concert together and you can go back to being the awkward third wheel when you get to see her. 

Trying to open a door you find it locked and you laugh. Already? It’s barely nine now. To each their own, though. 

Another door opens, but it’s just one of the bathrooms. The third and final door down this hall opens to a bare room with a bed in the center. Not many of the girls actually stay in the sorority house anymore, it’s mostly just for events like this one. 

Vera must be in the locked room. 

You turn to leave the room, but find Atsumu standing in the doorway. He shuts the door behind him, stepping forward and beginning to speak. 

“-----, I need to tell you something-” 

“Atsumu, stop.” You hold up your hand, and he pushes it away. 

“No! I’ve been wanting to tell you that I’m sorry. I know I made things weird the other night at the banquet-” 

“I’ve been lying to you.” You blurt it out. “I never wanted to bring you here.” 

He laughs, turning away from you and rubbing the back of his head with his right hand. He turns back to face you. He steps closer, pushing you back on the bed. 

You fall back, pushing yourself back up ready to yell at him for pushing you down. Before you can curse him, he is hovering over you, his eyes wild and you feel every nerve in your body awaken. His lips graze yours. 

You can’t help it, you kiss him back. You dig your fingers into the back of his shoulders. Oh, and you spread your legs just enough so his thigh can press up against your core as he kisses your neck. Everything about it feels more real than anything else you’ve experienced in your life. 

“Atsumu,” you groan as he palms at your breast. 

“Please,” his voice is pleading with you just as his words do. 

“I can’t. Atsumu I can’t,” you try to push him off you, but he stays put looking down at you. 

There’s tears in his eyes. 

“Do you think I’m stupid, —--?” He asks and you frown. 

“No I-” 

“You think I don’t know Osamu and Vera are bribing you to spend time with me and bring me here? Do you thin k I’m that fucking stupid?” His voice is cracking. 

“Atsumu, I really don’t know what to say.” 

“Just use me then! Use me for what I’m good at.” 

Something in you breaks now. This was wrong. This was all so so so wrong. You’ve made a huge mistake and now he wants you to keep doing it just so he doesn’t have to feel rejected. 

“I’m sorry,” you cry now too, but you know you don’t deserve to. 

Your tears are worthless to him. Instead of letting him see your remorse, you think of the quickest way to get away. You manage to crawl out from under him and run out of the room and down the stairs. 

If you’ve ever been good at one thing. It’s running away. 

–

Turning your phone off was easier than dealing with Atsumu’s emotions, Vera’s rage, and of course, the sorority sister’s gossip. You leave it off for the remainder of the weekend. Vera didn’t bother to come home, which didn’t really surprise you. 

However, when you open your phone up for the first time in 48 hours, there’s an alert from ticketmaster that tickets have been transferred to your account. Two tickets for a show no one is going to want to go with you to. 

It’s not for two weeks, so you could sell them, but what good would that be? You already made Atsumu feel like shit, something that wouldn’t have bothered you a week ago, but now you do. Something about going makes you feel like you’d be rubbing salt in his wounds. 

Even if you try justifying that you didn’t know he had feelings for you, you still feel… icky.

The only saving grace is that fall break is this week, so you don’t have to see him on campus. Once the week passes though, there is the chance you’ll run into him since Vera is in kahoots with his twin, afterall. 

When the time comes, you find it’s actually easier to avoid him than you imagined. Osamu has taken an internship at a local restaurant so Vera is freed up during the day’s she usually spends with him. Without Osamu around, Atsumu was sure not to follow. 

“I don’t know what to do.” You tell Vera, the night before the concert as you’re both sat in the living room watching 10 Things I Hate About You. 

“Just invite him to the concert. It’s like an olive branch or something,whatever they call it” she says, staring at the screen. “It’s not like you can write him a deep thoughtful letter in one night. Just text him.” 

“I don’t have his number,” you admit. Within a few seconds she’s sent you the contact for him. 

“Fine,” you get off the couch and pace in your room for a while. 

You type out about a dozen different apologies, all of which would do nothing for someone who thought you were just going to use him after what you’d just done. Words have never been your strong suit. 

So, you just send him a screenshot of the spare ticket. 

The next day, you arrive at the concert venue near campus where the band is playing. You wait for as long as you can at the gate before deciding to go in. When you make it to your seats and the two openers play, you decide he isn’t coming and you’ve just royally fucked up any chance of recovering it with him. 

Fall Out Boy takes the stage and you’re out of your chair without a single thought. At least for the next hour you can not think and just feel everything in the music. When it gets to one of your favorite songs, you have completely forgotten about anything going on in your life now. 

That is, until you feel two hands grip your waist and nearly give you a heart attack. You freeze when you feel breath on your neck. Just as you’re about to turn, you hear the lyrics repeated in your ear. 

“I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me.” Atsumu sings with them. 

“Atsumu!” You scream, turning around and throwing your arms around him.  “I’m so sorry,” you sob into him, but you doubt he can hear you. 

He holds you against him until the song ends, then he holds you by the shoulders before pressing his forehead against yours. 

“I forgive you,” he says and you feel the tears threatening to spill again. 

“Ats-” before you can finish, his lips are on yours.

[naoyaslut]

Maybe Next Time

pairing: atsumu miya xfemreader+18 college AU

synopsis: your first (of many more to come) encounter with fuck-boy miya atsumu

warnings: unresolved sexual tension, drinking, profanity, fraternity houses

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: this one had been sitting in my drafts for a long long time, probably almost 2 years tbh and its my first haikyuu fic period, but something that isn't complete smut and in a college au to satisfy my crush on fuck-boy atsumu.

You were annoyed, actually, you were pissed even as you ascended the stairs to the fraternity house two at a time.  Not only did you have to bail on a date you had been looking forward to, but you also got a Snapchat message from one of your friends.  The quick clip portrayed your younger sister, a FRESHMAN with a funnel slipped past her lips guzzling... What was that Jim Beam?

To top it off, she was wearing one of your dresses; one that you’ve been looking for, for weeks.  Scoffing, you shoved your iPhone back into the pocket of your blazer jogging up the rest of the stairs.  The crisp air of the evening nipped at the exposed skin of your legs, the fishnet thigh highs not giving much reprieve from the cold. 

The low hum of music could be heard behind the thick wooden doors as you approached, the doors swinging open with two girls filing out in the direction of the parking lot.  A lanky brunette stuck his head out after, his eyes trailing up and down your form before settling on the exposed cleavage visible from the low-cut crop top under your overall dress.

His lips quirked up at the corners of his mouth as he raised both eyebrows.

“What’s the password, beautiful?”

You crinkled your nose, affronted at the nickname before sighing.

“Password? Are you fucking kidding me?”  you were already in a bad mood and your only priority at that point in time was to get your sister out of this clusterfuck of a party and get her back to her dorm.

He stepped into the open doorway and leaned against the door frame catching it with his elbow.

“No password, no entry.” a mirthful smile passed over his lips clearly amused, his eyelids drooping as he leered down at you.  “I’ll settle for a kiss and let you pass.”

You pursed your lips together and shoved passed him intentionally throwing your elbow into his ribcage. “Move, dumbass.”

He doubled over as he stepped back inside, closing the door behind him. 

As you stepped further into the humid building your gaze scanned over the open space filled with way too many people.  It was humid, the music was loud, and a thick haze of smoke filled the much too cramped room.

Slowly you were able to maneuver your way through the thick crowd of partygoers, eyes filtering through the faces of patrons to see if you spotted Kaoru (your little sister).  Forcing your way through a small group gathered near the kitchen, you were tempted to scream her name at the top of your lungs.

Irritation slowly seeped into your very being as you brought a hand up to fan yourself.  The air was heavy, thick, and humid; the smell of weed and cigarettes made your stomach curl.   Leaning against the kitchen island, you scoured the kitchen once again catching a glimpse of the back of a small female scurrying out of the back door.   It was YOUR dress that she was wearing, and the same asymmetrical bob haircut that your sister had.

Scowling, you pushed yourself up on the island with the intent to slide over the countertop.  Before you could hoist yourself up, a strong arm wrapped around your middle pulling you flush against the front of a firm body.  It knocked the air from your lungs as you teetered planting your feet firmly on the floor in an effort to regain your footing.

“Hey!” you complained, snapping your head around to scrutinize whoever had prevented you from going after your sister.  You were going to kill her. “Get off me!”

“Hang on there, pretty.” A husky voice reverberated from over your shoulder, causing the vibrations to thrum through your tense body. “Not many rules in this house, but not climbing on the furniture is definitely one of em’.”

The arm that was still in place around your waist loosened enough for you to turn to face the blonde who was standing uncomfortably close to you.  Your breasts brushed against his hardened pecs causing your nipples to pebble at the friction.

The blonde wore a lazy smirk, an opened beer clutched in his right hand and his left finding purchase on the end of the island as he caged you in.  He was standing indecently close, so close that you could feel every ripple and curve of his abdomen along your own.

Flushing, you raised an eyebrow as you listened to the distinct twang of a southern accent rolling off his tongue.  Placing a palm flush against his chest you pushed against him hoping he’d catch the hint and give you some room to breathe.

“Do you mind?  You’re standing awfully close to be someone I’m not fucking.”

Eyeing him, you watched as his lip twitched in amusement but he himself didn’t budge an inch.  He only moved in closer drawing his mouth towards the curve of your neck.  Instinctively you maneuvered backward until your back was flush against the island.

“That can be arranged.” he purred, bringing the beer he had been clutching up to his mouth to take a swig.

You wanted to cringe.  You really did.  You were supposed to be disgusted and storm off angrily at the tangible fuckboy vibes that the bleach blonde in front of you was giving off.  Even though the kitchen smelled like alcohol, high fructose corn syrup, and weed he was giving off a nice contrast; woodsy and freshly showered.

He smelled amazing, and he had a neatly faded undercut that made him look halfway decent.  Blonde hair, tall, and a very broad athletic body.  He was attractive.

“And you are?” you asked flippantly, a scowl giving away your aggravated state.  Although this was a frat party, was he really expecting you to drop your panties for him like he was some kind of celebrity?  Who is this guy?

You genuinely wondered if he was actually this unbearable in real life or if he was a dumbass freshman pledge, probably just like the idiot guarding the front door.  Crossing your arms across your bosom you pinned him with a pointed glare without saying a word, waiting for him to enlighten you.

A good ten seconds or so passed before he raised both of his eyebrows in genuine surprise.  He leaned down to speak over the music playing in the background. “Ya’ don’t know who I am? For real?”

Reaching up and placing a hand at the blonde’s nape you pulled him in closer your voice vibrating against his ear.

“Should I? You’re giving me real-life fuckboy energy.”  Your fingernails lightly scraped against his scalp along his shaved undercut and continued to lean in so that your bottom lip brushed against his earlobe. 

“Are you a fuckboy?”

He allowed you to pull him closer to you, the distance between the both of you now absolutely nonexistent.  His larger frame dwarfed your own, his hand still latching onto the beer bottle he had been nursing.

That lazy smirk had fallen over his features once again as he picked his head up to look you in the eye.  There was an unbelievable amount of tension between you two, so thick that you could cut it with a knife, and that made you nervous.  Without warning, he closed the short distance between the two of you his lips colliding with your own in a suffocating kiss.

The force of his mouth knocking against yours pushed you flush against the kitchen counter, his thick forearm wrapping around the small of your back to keep you upright.  The kiss was... intense to say the least.  Your whimper of surprise was swallowed and replaced with a groan of his own.

His tongue lapping eagerly at the recess of your mouth, colliding with yours in a one-sided game of tug of war.  And he was winning. You squirmed hastily under his adamant grip, inhaling a gulp of the humid air once he released your bottom lip with a resounding smack.

You stared at him wide-eyed and dumbfounded, the taste of cheap beer lingering on your lips.  Your face heated up, along with the rest of your body as you stood frozen your mouth ajar.  You were initially being facetious, you did not expect the tall, handsome, and probably intoxicated stranger to take any action from your teasing.

He was drinking in your reaction, a satisfied smirk curving onto his face as the pad of his calloused thumb found your bottom lip.  He swiped away the shiny string of his saliva with the calloused digit before leaning back down to speak into your ear.

“Miya Atsumu, pretty.  Do I get a name in return?”

Ah, so he was one of the Miya twins.  He and his brother both played volleyball for the college team and probably on the trek for going pro.  You’d never interacted with him or his brother personally, but you did know that Atsumu had a reputation on campus.  He absolutely was a fuckboy.

The feel of his digit ghosting across your bottom lip snapped you out of your stupor, a glower falling over your soft features as your palm returned to pushing at Atsumu’s taut abdomen.  Pushing at him, you sighed in relief as he stepped away, out of your personal space.

“I don’t have time for your fraternity dares Atsumu.”  Glancing over your shoulder you eyed the door that you had seen your sister slip through maybe 10 minutes earlier.  You groaned in annoyance, turning to step off to leave, but again were stopped by the all-star volleyball player.  Rolling your eyes, you shifted your weight onto the opposite foot as the arm around your waist held you in place.

Atsumu gasped as if he were offended one of his large palms resting over his heart in mock shock.

“Ya’ really not going to tell me your name even after all of this-” his hand left his chest to fan back and forth the empty space that was now between you two.  “Chemistry we have?”

You crinkled your nose at the gesture as if you were disgusted and turned to hightail it out of the building, you had to catch your sister before she disappeared into the night. 

“If I ever see you again, I’ll tell you my name,” And with that, you were out of there disappearing into the evening on a desperate mission to get your shit together. 

You could never imagine the impression you left on Atsumu that night.  He very well did vow to find you again and get that name that you desperately owed him.

[kairismess]

Omg I just saw a tiktok and it was the cutest thing ever! Okay so this girl goes up to her fiancé after his game (the like meet n greet or whatever) and acts like his fangirl! Could I get something like that for Atsumu please? (You don’t have to but thank you if you do <33333)

well hello, pretty stranger.

after atsumu signed yet another one of his fan's merchandise of him, he took in a deep breath and tried to brace himself for another round of smiling nonstop and acting all charming, like how his fans think of him as. it does get suffocating after a while of this, all he can imagine of to keep himself sane and from teetering at his wits' end is by dreaming of coming home in a few hours, laying down on your lap, and being treated to a night long full of loving between you two.

as he's stuck day dreaming about you, the next person in line comes up; with her excusing herself to him to catch his attention as he sat there, in a bit of a daze, imaging how soft your lap would be and how much he just wants to get this over with already so he can smother you with his affection.

he soon snaps out of his gaze when she waves her hand in front of his face a little, catching his attention. he quite literally snaps out of it, his back jolting in surprise as he gains sobriety once more and realizes just where he is and what he was doing before dreaming of you and your embrace. he chuckles and rubs the back of his head, an embarrassed smile on his face as he apologizes for not noticing her earlier.

he doesn't look at her face yet, but he politely takes the jersey she handed to him to sign, but for some reason, the feel of the jersey was... familiar. the smile fades from his lips as he looks over the clothing she handed him, seeing the number on the jersey was the same as his, but on the back, the words, "mrs. miya" were printed on them. it was then that atsumu realized... you came to his signing, you came to his meet and greet today.

all his wishes came true much earlier than he thought, and when atsumu looked up, his suspicions were confirmed. "um... are you okay, mr. miya?" you ask him with a shy, yet awfully knowing, smile; making atsumu do a double take and pause for a minute to collect his thoughts. he nodded and gave you a beaming smile. "yep! ...never been better." he muttered as he signed your jersey, taking all his time to let this moment with the woman he'd spend the rest of his life with in a few months linger for just a split second longer.

when you thank him and take the jersey back from him, he sneakily wraps his calloused hands around your wrist, gently pulling you close to him as he whispers in your ear, "thanks for saving my ass and sanity, babe. i love ya." and when he relinquished his grip on your wrists, leaving you flustered and unable to return his 'i love you', he looked to you from the side as you were about to leave and wait for him somewhere in the building, sending you a genuine smile of gratitude, and a wink your way. he couldn't wait to officially make you his mrs. miya in the future... you gave him enough energy and excitement to last 50 more of these meet and greets for one whole sitting!

[kozumesphone]

✮⋆˙ LO$ER=LO♡ER

⤷ haikyū!! boys (multiple) x fem!reader

masterlist

♡ fandom | haikyū!!

♡ includes | rintaro suna x f!reader. atsumu miya x f!reader. kotaro bokuto x f!reader. keiji akaashi x f!reader. (separate pairings/drabbles)

♡ warnings | swearing (in suna’s and akaashi’s), loser boyfriend behaviour (in bokuto’s), nicknames (‘babe’, ‘my girl’, etc. in suna’s and akaashi’s), i-love-you’s, very very very short but effective as fuck (it’s literally all 100-200 words each but I loved the endings help), not proofread as always, lmk if I made any mistakes anywhere.

♡ a/n | my favourite inarizaki and fukurōdani boys!!!!! also I kinda projected onto y/n’s personality so i’m acc sorry if it doesn’t cater to your exact personality 😭 and they’re drabbles for a reason but still: they’re so short help 💀 anyway, suna and akaashi’s were inspired by this post (more parts coming soon!)

♡ wc | 1k

(りんたろう 。。。RINTARŌ SUNA !

“delete that!” I shrieked, launching myself at my boyfriend’s body.

he held his phone out of reach and said, “but babe, I like the picture—”

“rin! that picture is so bad—at least let me get pretty, and then we can go out. then you take some pictures and look at them forever, or whatever.” I grumbled, folding my hands over my chest and flopping down onto the couch.

“but you always look pretty,” he looked down at me, before tumbling onto my lap.

“shut up.”

“but you do! even when you think you don’t look pretty, you do! especially when you’re napping or doing stupid shit without me or bullying ‘tsumu into buying you ramen at 2 in the night, and it makes me fall flat on my face, everyday, knowing I get to wake up to such a beautiful person by my side,” he said, fondly, and grinned. rintarō suna grinned at me! wait. i’m his girlfriend. why am I simping over that?

words failed me, so I just resorted to turning bright red and grumbling. “yeah. whatever. shut up—”

he pecked my cheek and sat back.

unable to conceal my red cheeks and wide eyes, I stood up, smacking his head, and walked to the kitchen.

“oi! don’t ‘whatever’ me! I love you!” he yelled, and stood up, continuing to follow me as I giggled to myself.

宮 みや 侑 あつむ 。。。ATSUMU MIYA !

“y/n, I swear to god, stop diving–” osamu started.

“IT’S LITERALLY MY JOB, SHUT UP–”

“YOU GOT ENOUGH PRACTICE, YOU’LL HURT YOUR TINY SELF–”

“oi oi oiii, don’t call my girl tiny,” atsumu, my personal favourite miya twin, said, walking onto the court with three bentōs and water bottles. he pecked my check.

“huh? she started it!” osamu pointed an accusatory finger at me.

I blew a raspberry in his face, sticking my tongue out.

“oho, I see the team is here, eh? spiker, setter, and libero, mm?” kita’s voice rang out, his smug tone not going unnoticed.

I groaned. “don’t you dare let akagi-senpai hear that. I will kill myself if he hears it. I don’t need a skilled, official libero flaming behind me.”

“after akagi-san graduates, we’ll probably die trying to find a proper libero, ehh,” osamu said.

“what if we disguise n/n as a guy?” atsumu suggested. I slapped his arm, catching onto his idea.

“dude! yes!” I screamed.

“bro! I love you so much!” ‘tsumu shrieked, grinning.

“ahh, to be young, to dream, and to be in love,” kita sighed behind us.

ぼくと こうたろう 。。。KŌTARŌ BOKUTO !

“i’m not fixing him, i’m making him worse,” I smiled.

“are you talking about bokuto or your toys?” akaashi raised his brow. “you’re supposed to say, ‘I can fix him’, not ‘i’m not fixing him’.” he groaned. “god knows he needs it!”

“excuse me?!” bokuto screeched, walking into the living room with two bowls of popcorn, feigning shock.

“kashi! don’t say that to my baby,” I frowned. “you’re an absolute angel, c’mere, baby.” I made grabby motions at bokuto. he grinned at me, turned around to stick his tongue out at akaashi, and handed him a bowl of popcorn. akaashi pretended to gag, but accepted the bowl and started scarfing down the popcorn without hesitation.

“he’s just jealous he doesn’t have a y/n,” bokuto grumbled after sitting down beside me, and hiding his face in my neck.

“I see her everyday anyway, and I don’t need another, honestly. she’s chaotic as it is,” he said, halfway through finishing his bowl. I flashed him a toothy grin and stole some popcorn from bokuto’s bowl.

he handed the entire bowl over to me, and mumbled, looking anywhere but at me, “itwasforyouinthefirstplace.” I still saw his red ears and giggled.

“bro, you’ve been with her for two years,” akaashi pointed out. “you still get nervous talking to her, just like the first time, eh–”

“shhh, kashi! let me enjoy one of japan’s top aces getting flustered over popcorn–it’s cute.”

“youreluckyIloveyou!”

“what was that? i’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you–”

after that, bokuto whined and akaashi teased him, and I could only look at them and smile, till the movie ended.

akaashi moved to his bedroom while I walked up the stairs and flopped down onto bokuto’s soft mattress, melting into it.

he was already sound asleep beside me, passing out as soon as his body had hit the bed around an hour ago. I rolled closer to him, and threw both my legs over his blanket-covered ones, lying in an odd diagonal position across the bed.

I opened tumblr on my phone to scroll through my dash before sleeping. I chuckled at the first post that showed up, reblogged it, and fell asleep.

あかあし 。。。KEIJI AKAASHI !

keiji came over around an hour ago to my dorm after his volleyball practice with the boys ended late. after he took a shower and came out half-naked, we fell onto the couch in the living room together, wrapped in a blanket together with the air conditioning at its lowest temperature.

he was lying to the inner side of the couch on his side and I layed down right in front of him, on my side too.

“I can feel you staring. it’s creepy as fuck,” I said, turning around to look at him in the dim light of the room illuminated solely by the television playing some show.

“i’m not even allowed to look at my girl now? geez,” he rolled his eyes, continuing to gaze lazily at my face. my breathing quickened at the short distance, and I was sure he could tell.

“don’t look at me with those eyes,” I whispered.

“what eyes?” he smirked, leaning in.

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[pparadiselost]

overdriven.

msby black jackals x fem reader the black jackals are rewarded with an unexpected surprise after a hard won game. warning(s): nsfw, dubious consent, gangbang, degradation, creampie, breeding minors do not interact.

the msby black jackals give it their all when they play. volleyball is their raison d’etre, the very sport they’ve dedicated their entire lives to. that being said, it’s no surprise that being pro players brings them a hoard of benefits that the average person couldn’t even dream of. 

but they’re in for a surprise after a hard earned victory—

—a pretty girl waits for them in the locker room: a doll-like sweetheart thrown to the wolves in order to help them let off some extra steam after such an intense game.

(“she’s all yours, gentleman!” kuroo had laughed heartily, beaming at you with honed cat-like eyes. it’s a perfect mimicry of a trained predator. “it’s the least i can do for you all on a job well done!”)

they really don’t need to be told twice.

bokuto gets to work quickly, grabbing you from behind and hoisting you up to his hips with his strong arms. his big hands make quick work of your thighs, spreading your trembling legs open fully so that your glistening cunt can fully take him in. it hurts—from just how stupid big his cock is, but bokuto’s determined to get all of himself into you. 

“t-too big, bokuto-san-!” you choke out, gripping at his forearms. his thrusts only speed up, your gasps only fueling him. he can’t help it. he’s so pumped up from having that much fun on the court, and your pussy won’t stop rubbing and tightening all up against him. you’re also so small in comparison to him too, that when he can feel you turning into jelly in his arms and melting into his chest, bokuto’s fascinated beyond belief.

he wants to break you, even if he isn’t fully aware of it yet.

bokuto’s the first to make you cum. he gets so excited when he feels you gush and cream around him. he did it! he made a pretty girl feel so good on his cock that you came all over him! bokuto doesn’t even give you room to breathe before he’s pounding into you again, his heavy balls slapping mercilessly against the curve of your ass. 

he wants to feel that again! he wants to make you cum again, wants to feel you pulse and quiver all over his dick again! he doesn’t care if there’s a whole locker room full of other horny men staring the two of you down—his hands are groping your entire body. your soft thighs, cute tits, gripping at your throat so he can pull you down further onto his girthy cock…

you’re still reeling from the aftershocks of the first orgasm he forced out of you when atsumu grabs you by your hair, dragging your face down under his navel until your face-to-face with his dick. he looks so obscenely smug, looking down at you from above like you’re some inferior being bowing down to him.

“now, bokkun,” atsumu cooes, yanking your face forward so that your lips ghost over the tip of his drooling length, “let’s not get too excited here. she’s meant for all of us, isn’t she?”

“‘m not done with her yet,” bokuto frowns, and his nails dig into your waist as he pumps his hips forward. you let out a loud cry, and you can feel his dick twitch prominently deep inside of your stretched out hole. 

atsumu keeps his fake smile plastered on his face. “if you wanted her to yourself so badly, then you should try scoring at least 50 points on your own in the next match. maybe then i’d consider it.”

“-but until then-” atsumu grips your hair, and you’re given a split second to open your mouth before he’s shoving his cock down your throat. “you’re going to have to share.”

you clench your eyes shut. everything burns momentarily. the tip of atsumu’s cock effortlessly hits the back of your throat, and the blond hisses under his breath when his engorged dick is rewarded with your warm and tight mouth. he thrusts slowly into you, almost like he’s pretending that he’s fucking your pussy instead. 

you let your jaw fall slack as atsumu fills all of your senses. the noxious taste and stench of his pre-cum floods your tongue and cheeks, and his thick pubic hair ghosts across your nose when he forces his cock further into you. 

“what a good girl. being spitroasted feels good, doesn’t it?” atsumu weakly chuckles. his other hand moves to caress your face, his thumb tracing over your eyelids while you force deep breaths through your nostrils. unlike atsumu’s leisurely pace, bokuto won’t stop ramming into you like the pussy-drunk madman he is, and your muffled moans only make atsumu shiver with pleasure. 

“take it-,” bokuto pants out, determined to feel you cumming around him again. “take it all, pretty girl- want you to feel you around me-”

you splutter and choke all over atsumu’s cock, barely able to focus on the dick shoved down your windpipe through the overstimulation. he’s making a mess out of your cunt, and all you can hear (besides from the heckling) is the loud squelching noises your poor body getting the daylights railed out of you.

“feels good-” the grey-haired man ruts his hips harder. “pretty pussy feels good- wanna cum inside of it-”

cold fear shoots up your chest, and you unintentionally clamp down on him. bokuto lets out a strangled cry at the sudden sensation, and before you can yank yourself off of atsumu’s cock (not that his grip would let you), bokuto’s digging his heels into the floor and slamming down as deep as he can into you. 

he cums, and he cums hard. 

you nearly shriek on atsumu’s cock, your tongue catching over his soaked dick as bokuto’s sticky cum invades your poor hole. it feels like it’s burning you from inside out, drenching every part of your fluttering cunt white. bokuto groans loudly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he thrusts slowly, riding out his high for as long as he can. he feels a flicker of pride when he feels his cum frothing and pooling up at the base of his cock, and when he pulls his dick out of you, the large gob of semen that falls out of you with a ‘plop’ on the floor makes him grin. 

“you’re fucked up for that, bokkun.” atsumu brings your mouth down further on his dick, earning a strangled cry from you. “focus, sweetie. don’t tell me you’re gonna be fucked dumb just from taking bokuto.”

his rhythm speeds up rapidly, and you’re left moaning and fighting to keep yourself in one piece. his cock rubs against your mouth invasively, and the vibrations from your cries only makes fucking your mouth feel that much better. atsumu thinks you look absolutely precious, crying and gagging on his dick. 

“c’mon,” the blond slaps at your face lightly. “keep up. i’m not going anywhere till i see that cute mouth of yours drinking up my cum.”

and he keeps true to it. atsumu wishes he could take a picture of your lips wrapped around his thick cock, keep the image of you obediently bobbing your head against his hips in his phone so that he can beat one out later. every time you blink up at him through your tear-clumped lashes and do your best to make him feel good by dragging your tongue over his sensitive cockhead, his resolve wavers.

god, what he wouldn’t do to whisk you away and keep you as his own personal fuckbuddy.

“that’s it, that’s it, darling,” he purrs. his breathing shallows, and his once steady ruts against your jaw tremble and stiffen. “hah- you’re such a good slut, you know that? ‘m gonna give you all my cum, ‘kay? make sure to swallow it all, or i’ll just fuck it into your pussy instead.”

you nod hesitantly, your throat constricting around his length perfectly. atsumu can’t help but grin down at you, just the same way he does when he manages to score a point in a match that no one saw coming, and his hold on your scalp tightens painfully as he forces you down his length all the way.

he pumps you up and down on his dick once, twice, like a glorified fleshlight before he’s cumming with a low groan. you try to loosen your sore jaw up the best you can, immediately swallowing around his twitching and throbbing cock the best you can. hot loads of cum overload your consciousness, and the salty-bitter tang of atsumu’s semen coats every part of your mouth while you try to stomach as much of it as you can.

“fucking hell… you’re going to be the death of me-” atsumu pulls himself out of you, leaving you coughing for air as your windpipe finally clears up for the first time since he got his hands on you. a few droplets of his cum catch on your lips, and you lick your lips with your cum-stained tongue and make a show of swallowing it all. wordlessly you open your mouth up to show that you swallowed it all, that you took everything he gave you like the good whore atsumu said you were.

he smacks your face lightly again. “good girl. hinata, sakusa, she’s all yours now.”

“why should i get your sloppy seconds?” sakusa grumbles as he tugs at his uniform’s waistband. he shoots atsumu a mirthful glare, but he still whips out his cock.

you whimper when he slaps the tip against your lips. your mouth is still heavy with the taste of atsumu’s cum, but sakusa clicks his tongue at you.

“hey, all eyes on me.” his tip smears over your mouth, not quite pushing into you. he was definitely enjoying the view, watching you scrunch your face up and shudder under him as he prodded at your face with his dick. “it’s rude not to pay attention to someone when they’re talking to you.”

your core throbs with arousal, and your thighs are sticky and heay with your own slick and bokuto’s dried up cum. you open your mouth to shower sakusa’s cock with kitten-licks, lapping up any drops of pre-cum that was beading up around his slit. you moan softly, not taking him into your mouth quite yet, but licking all up and down his length. 

sakusa lets out a low groan, and he twitches against your lips. even through the muddy fog building up in your head, you feel a small twinge of pride bloom in your chest. knowing that you could get the ever-so-austere sakusa to crack, you lapped at his dick a little more exaggeratedly.

“such a slutty girl,” sakusa whispers under his breath. he grips the base of his cock and presses it against your lips again. his stomach coils and tightens around nothing, wanting no more of your silly games and to fuck that shameless mouth of your senseless. “open up.”

you listen to him. sakusa’s quick to exploit you, slamming his hips in all the way until your nose is at his navel. you cough and gag, not expecting him to stuff your throat with his cock like that, but sakusa only grabs at your hair and force you to stay there. your chest burns as you splutter and try to breathe around him, but sakusa thinks your throat feels addictively good as it constricts and pulses around him.

“choking already? and here i was, thinking you could take it. you were deepthroating atsumu’s cock like you couldn’t get enough of it,” he mocks. you whine around his dick, fighting past your discomfort to move your head in tandem with his hips. his cockhead keeps hammering into the back of your mouth, leaving you drooling all over him and yourself. 

he frowns disapprovingly, and he pumps his hips into you roughly. you cry out, and your entire torso burns from having your windpipe bullied by his cock. he’s too big, too rough, too much for you to handle entirely, yet you’re still kneeling before him like the obedient little pawn you are, sucking him off like he’ll throw a word of praise at you or something.

and sakusa, being the keen man he is, knows you’re getting off to being manhandled like this. he sneers down at you, and his eyes narrow slightly. “look at you, drooling all over yourself like that. you’re making a fucking mess everywhere. dirty little cockslut—that’s all you are.”

your pussy clenches around nothing, and you moan into his hips. god, it’s so humiliating, getting off to being insulted like this while a whole team of volleyball players pass you around, even with a whole dick shoved down your esophagus. you squirm underneath sakusa, and despite the fatigue building in your body, you want more.

his dick throbs against the inside of your cheeks, and sakusa watches you intently as you bob your head the best you can. slurping at his dick, hollowing your face out, and humming gently so that everything you do pleasures him, there’s something particularly wicked about how much sakusa enjoys breaking you down.

then again, he’s always been a little bit of a sadist.

“filthy girl,” sakusa sighs. his thrusts stammer slightly, and you’re more than happy to make up for it by taking more of him into your mouth. “are you gonna swallow my cum? are you gonna take it all?”

you moan loudly in response, imitating a nod as you jerked him off with your mouth. 

“if you’re so eager to drink it, then i guess i have no choice,” he hisses. “even though the last thing i want to do is give someone like you my cum. be grateful.”

his thrusts become rougher, and you can barely keep up as he fucks your mouth without any regard towards you. he grips your face with his big hands, keeping you in place as he shoves himself down your gullet as deep as he can, and when your throat clamps up around him, sakusa cums with a low groan. his abs flex, and his balls tighten up against your mouth, emptying himself into you. 

it hurts. it burns. 

the corners of your eyes prick with tears as you try and stomach whatever you can swallow, and sakusa guides himself slowly through his climax by thrust in and out of your cum-drenched mouth. part of it seeps past your swollen lips and drips down to your chin. streaks of pearly white cover your skin before it drips down onto your breasts. 

he pushes back on your forehead with his hand, and you release his dick with a soft ‘pop.’ you nearly fall to the floor in a heap right there and then. your vision spins violently from the lack of air, and while you cough and struggle to gain your bearings, sakusa presses his lips into a thin line. 

“making a mess yet again… how unsightly,” he grumbles under his breath. you press your forehead against the floor, completely undone after only about three rounds. you can barely see through your blurring field of sight the number of men who crowd around like starved beasts, and if the long matches are anything to go by, their stamina easily takes them for multiple rounds.

you’re trembling uncontrollably by the time hinata’s calloused hands rub at your back and waist. the young man coos at you sweetly, like he’s calming down a scared animal rather than waiting to fuck a live, sentient human being. he presses calming circles into your skin while he uses his body to shield you from everyone else’s view, waiting for you to regain your bearings somewhat.

“kuroo-san’s really gone and done it this time,” hinata laughs. your vision’s still blurring in and out, but your breathing stabilizes. “i wonder how he managed to get his hands on a pretty little thing like you.”

“h-hinata-san…!”

planting one hand flat on your back and pushing your upper half against the ground, his other hand grabs at your hips and drags it upwards. your ass is in the air while hinata pins your chest against the ground, and he looks down at you with such a faux apologetic smile that your heart drops. 

“sorry, princess,” hinata’s chest presses up against your back, and your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his bare cock rubbing against your slit. his tip catches on your swollen clit, and you whimper like a wounded animal as he ruts against your entrance. “if kuroo-san went through all this trouble to reward us, it’d be rude to not take it…”

he penetrates you slowly, and his eyes stay fixated on you to catch every single one of your reactions. your breath hitches, a high-pitched whine coming from your chest when you feel his cock stretching out your sensitive pussy.

your walls coil and twist around him, sucking him in deeper. hinata exhales through his nose when he bottoms out, his palm patting at your ass gently. “fuuuuuuuck, you’re really taking me in… even after having bokuto-san fuck you, you’re still so tight…!”

hinata fucks into you from behind. his thrusts are strong and hard, his toned thighs slapping against the back of your legs and leaving you quivering in the aftermath. shockwaves of pleasure rip through your core, and your pussy drools at how ruthlessly hinata’s dick feels inside you.

the sound of skin-on-skin fills the room again, and you’re mewling into the floor with your head in your arms. he’s the perfect size: his tip ghosts over your sweet spot, and his girth spreads you open the perfect amount. it’s like he’s teasing you, keeping you that close to the brink.

“feels good- more, hinata-san-!” you choke out. your toes curl as his dick throbs and rubs up into your wet walls, your insides clenching up and milking his cock for dear life. “more, more- do me more, please!”

“oh? you like that?” hinata grinds his hips against you harder, and your body threatens to cave in on itself. “you like being fucked like this, sweetheart? you like being fucked like a whore in front of my entire team?”

“h-having your dick in me feels good- your dick feels so good!,” you sob into your hands. you can feel the remnants of bokuto’s cum lurching deep inside of you, and every time hinata’s dick prods at your cervix, you can’t help but moan lewdly. 

he keeps stirring up your insides, observing your body to see what brings out the strongest reactions. you’re squirming and crying out underneath him, trapped underneath his heavy body and being pressed flush to the ground. 

you never knew being manhandled could feel this good.

“hah- you’re sucking me in so much- that pussy of yours won’t stop taking my dick-,” hinata pants. he continues to grind into you, and his leaking tip won’t stop bruising against your deepest spot. he’s reducing you into a teary, begging mess without even doing much, just by bullying his cock into your stretched out cunt. you can’t stop gushing around his dick, your pussy overwhelmed and drinking up how good it feels to have a man’s cock making a mess out of it. 

you arch your back, your cunt coiling up. the knot deep in your stomach twists around itself, threatening to snap at any given moment, and you’re so far gone from the feeling of being fucked out like a whore that you can barely slur out your words. “gonna cum…! please- wanna cum, wanna cum so bad…!”

“yeah? are you gonna cum on my cock? is my cock making you feel that good?” hinata taunts. you nod, practically slobbering all over yourself as you try to move your hips back against his, wanting more of him inside you and messing you up. the pleasure’s ridiculously overwhelming, to the point that you know your pussy’s gonna be beyond saving by the time these men are done running a train on you. but you don’t care: all that’s on your mind right now is stuffing your slutty hole with as much cum and dick as you possibly can.

your thighs shake uncontrollably, and you can barely keep your ass up in the air. your body is on the verge of collapsing, and hinata firmly plants his hands around your hips to keep you right where you are. 

“so close- ‘m so close, hinata-san…!” you plead. you shakily reach down your stomach with one hand, rubbing desperate circles down onto your clit. you nearly cum right there and then, your senses overrun by the pleasure of touching yourself and having hinata ravish you. 

he smacks your ass gently, his fingers rubbing circles into your soft flesh. “c’mon- stay with me a little longer, pretty girl- let me have my fun too… ‘m almost there with you.”

you clench up around him, sucking in your stomach as you frantically toy with your clit. he’s close, you know he’s close, yet the thought of cumming with him has you almost passing out from how lewd it feels. all these volleyball players that you admired from afar, often in the bleachers or on tv, are having their way with you. fucking your mouth, forcing you to swallow their cum, stuffing your abused pussy with as much semen as you can humanly take…

“you ready? are you gonna let me creampie you, sweetheart?” hinata grips your body.

“yes-! cum inside me- want it inside me, hinata-san…!” you gasp out. he grunts as he keeps you firmly in place, pumping his swollen cock into you roughly. you nearly fall over from the motion, and your body chokes up at the rough shockwaves of pure euphoria that overtake your core.

“that’s right. take it all for me, princess.” he buries his cock as deep as he can into you, and your arch your back all pretty for him. a loud whimper manages to escape through your lips when you feel him pulse in your pussy before he cums inside of you. he feels like a second heartbeat in your cunt, the way his dick throbs and twitches as he empties his heavy balls. your stomach immediately feels heavy, his cum flooding your hole and mixing in with whatever bokuto left inside you.

“c-cumming…!” the knot in your stomach snaps. the added pressure of feeling hinata cum inside of you topples you over the edge, and you’re crying loudly as your pussy tightens around his orgasming cock like a vice. hinata grits his teeth as he feels you creaming around him, your pussy clinging to every inch and vein on his girthy dick like your life depends on it. it’s fitting, for a cock-hungry slut like you, to end up cumming on him while he fills that insatiable cunt of yours up with his loaded semen.

you’re reeling on the floor, twitching and gasping for air. your mind is clouded, and you can barely feel your own body as hinata slowly yanks himself out of you. he watches with unwavering eyes as your hole flutters and gapes, and a few drops of pearly white cum drip out of your pussy and down your thighs.

“so pretty,” hinata laughs, patting your ass. “bet that felt good, huh?”

you can’t even answer him as he wipes his cock clean on your legs, smearing more of his cum all over your messed up body. 

he stands up and motions for someone else to come over. “alright, who’s up next?”

…

…

…

how long has this been going on for? everything blurs over in your head. all you remember is the dull throngs of pleasure consuming your body, your legs held open and stretched out as every member of the black jackals indulge in their turn. hands pull at your tits and twist your face, and you can barely recall the number of men you’ve kissed or blown off with your mouth, your lips sensitive and bruised from the onslaught you took.

you’re overstimulated beyond comprehension, to the point that just having someone’s fingers ghost over your abused clit has you squirming and squealing incoherently. you can’t even form words properly, only crying out from the uncontrollable pleasure you’re being subjected to. 

how many rounds have they gone? how much sex have you had? you don’t know, and at this point, you don’t even care. your pussy is long gone, heavy and twitching from the amount of semen that’s been shoved into you. you can’t even recall how many times you came from being rough-handled in such a demeaning manner, yet you managed to get off on it the most. 

“hey, hey, why don’t we try something?” someone calls out. you think you recognize the boisterous voice as he grabs at you, big hands easily molding you into the position that he wants. you can’t bring yourself to clear your mind enough to see who’s grabbing at you—after a while, all the different bodies all feel the same.

“whaddya have in mind, bokkun?”

the man grabbing at you giggles, and he presses his still big cock flush against your cum-drenched cunt. not putting it in directly just yet, but teasing you as he grinds against your slit. 

“why don’t we have a competition to see who can knock her up first? don’t you think that’d be fun?”

[1zukuz]

WRONG INITIAL !!

HOW haikyuu boys react when you don't get their initial on your nails !

INCLUDES: cussing + fluff

ATSUMU, KAGEYAMA, BOKUTO, KUROO, SUNA, KENMA, OIKAWA

lol if ur name starts with a y i apologize kuroo didn't mean it

[slut4msby]

Happy New Year? Miya Atsumu x Fem!Reader

+ tags & warnings; suggestive content, heavily implied smut, atsumu and reader did the deed :0??, borderline fuckboy!atsumu [i have a soft spot for fuckboy!atsumu], not proofread, implied ex bf but no one is specified other than being a vb player so use ur imagination qts :3

+ a/n; hey guys! i'm lea :3. this is my first fic on tumblr in YEARS i used to have an account long long long ago that like NO ONE would know so this is my welcome back ig ;p have some fuckboy!atsumu tehheeheh [i want fuckboy!atsumu so bad or maybe i just have issues teheheh]. also its dec 31 when i post this so HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! stay safe and take care x

Waking up on your own has become a tradition on New Year's Day. For the past three years, a very lonely past three years. Ever since your partner had broken up with you. 

This year was no different, waking up in an empty bed - but not your bed? The realisation left you in confusion. Your eyes darted around the room, cologne, dirty clothes, sports trophies and empty water bottles filled the room. How classy. You sat up against the headboard, head pounding from the alcohol that had consumed your body the night before. Despite its uncleanliness it was a nice room at its core. The problem is, you don't know when you got here or how you got here. Matter of fact if you were even still in the country.

“Hey Doll.” A shirtless figure called from the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist, his V-line on full display. He was fit, no one could deny that. His blonde hair messy from his shower, his body littered with hickies and scratches - your hickies and scratches. “You really did a number on me huh?” He let out a soft chuckle.

You tried to respond but your body was still in a state of shock from the man you had managed to catch.

“You alright princess? You seemed to be a lot louder and confident last night.” He teased, walking towards you taking a seat on his bed. “You know, you look good in my shirt.” He adds on in reference to the oversized t-shirt which accompanied your body. He shuffled closer to you, he planted another kiss on your neck over one of the many purple marks he had given you last night, “could get used to having you around.”

“Me?” You question, he only nods in response. 

He grabs your face in his hand. You couldn’t deny his hands were nice, they were big and he obviously knew how to use them. He moved you to look at him, forcing tension. You couldn’t lie from what you could remember is that he was good. He pulled you closer and closer, looking at your lips and then your eyes. “Can I?” He asks.

“Can you?” You respond giving him your infamous ‘fuck-me eyes’.

“Oh doll, we both know we can.” He mutters against your lips, before pulling you in for a kiss which you very happily accept. 

That’s when the memories come back, you could never forget a kiss like that. You remember Kuroo forcing you to a party and meeting him, Atsumu Miya.

“C’moonnnnnnnn n/n-chan it will be fun.” Kuroo begged.

“Tetsu, I don’t know I am happy alone.”

“You’re so boring now n/n-chan.” He pouts. He knows that sentence will rile you up. “You used to be the life of the party y/n.”

“Used to? Oh baby I still am.”

“Then come to the party n/n.”

“Fine.”

You remember walking in and being greeted by Bokuto who you hadn't seen in years. Completely ditching the volleyball scene after your ex-boyfriend. Bokuto was still as huge and friendly as always. You greeted all the familiar faces and were even introduced to some new ones. It was nice. As the hours went on the alcohol overtook your body. 

You had found yourself on a couch on top of him - Atsumu Miya. 

“Woahh pretty girl slow down.” He pulls away from the kiss a string of saliva breaking you apart as he does so. “What's yer name, pretty girl?” He asks before leaving light kisses on your neck forcing a gasp out of you.

“L/n.” You say quickly, “y/n l/n.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He says continuing kissing down your neck. He would have gone further right then and there however your rendezvous was cut short by Bokuto and Kuroo calling your name. And you thought that was gonna be the last encounter with the mystery man.

“Ohhhh~ n/n-chan getting it on with tsum-tsum.” Bokuto teases.

“N/n is lonelyyyyyy.” Kuroo slurs.

The teasing continued all night, however at 11:58pm everyone started gathering around for the countdown, you were convinced this is the fourth year you would be lonely. Before you felt an arm snag your waist.

“Hey pretty girl.” He purrs into your ear.

“Oh it’s you.”

“I have a name y’know princess?”

Silence.

“Do yer seriously not know who I am.”

“Egotistical by the sound of it, pretty boy.” You respond.

“Atsumu Miya. Y’know? MSBY’s setter?”

“Right. I like pretty boy more.” You giggle.

5

“Yer won't be moaning that tonight trust me doll.”

4

3

2

1

Atsumu pulls you in for a kiss, “So you wanna take me up on that offer princess?”

You can’t help but nod eagerly.

Happy New year to you indeed.

©slut4msby.

[moonswolfie]

GF REVEAL <3

a oneshot haikyuu smau: hinata, oikawa, atsumu x fem!black!reader

oh man this is my first time creating something exclusively for my dark skinned girlies (luv yall) normally i don't write anything with a specific race in mind but i thought since my smau is so oriented around gf pics i don't want you all to feel excluded hehe

(don't mind the opposing hairstyle in the tooru one, maybe he braided your hair as the date went along LMAO)

₊˚⊹♡ Hinata Shoyo

₊˚⊹♡ Oikawa Tooru

₊˚⊹♡ Miya Atsumu

[mrshigurumasshop]

Overstimulated | HQ Men ~ the one where you just needed littleeee bit of space

─➭ hq men x fem!reader: atsumu miya, bokuto kotaro

─➭ mentions of: overestimation (not nsfw), reader is just irritated and tired, no hard feelings, fluff, comfort (?)

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

Atsumu Miya

You had a longer day than you anticipated, thus sparked a little irritation. You were called into work 30 minutes earlier than usual because some higher up decided they wanted to see your presentation earlier than planned so you rushed to get ready for work and didn't look as professional than usual.

Then you forgot your lunch and your boyfriend was already at work and couldn't bring it to you. So you were hangry all day and small things just kept building up. When you came home you were ready to finally be away from people and decompress, your boyfriend (who shows his feelings physically) thought that's what you needed.

"Atsumu, please," you said firmly as you turned around to face him. You had such a irritated look on your face that Atsumu almost cried on the spot. "Give me some freaking space."

Poor baby was just trying to hold you from behind since he hadn't seen you all day. And he’s well aware that he can be annoying but he's never seen you look at him like that. He'd think you'd look cute with your nostrils flared up but you kinda scared him a bit. So he gave you what you asked for with a little pout on his face and stepped aside to let you walk out of the kitchen into your shared bedroom.

You let out a frustrating huff as you close the door to take a much needed bath. Had you just realized that you snapped at ‘tsumu? Yes. Are you gonna apologize? Of course…but after the bath. You need to calm down for a bit after all that.

Atsumu heard you turn on the faucet in the bathtub so he knew you were going to take a while but he has matured enough to understand that you needed the space. And he remembered the texts you sent venting to him about what’s happening.

He orders for pickup from your favorite spot just around the corner from your building and set some pj’s for you since he noticed you forgot to grab some and left it on the bed before leaving to get the food.

About 20 or so minutes later, you felt so much better. With how overwhelming you felt all day, you never got the chance to just slow down for a second. You grabbed your towel resting on the toilet cover as you get up from the tub. You wrap it around yourself then drained the water. You do your regular skincare routine and left the bathroom to see a pair of sleep shorts and atsumu’s t-shirt.

You let out an appreciative smile before drying off and putting the clothes on. Once you finished you walked out of the room to go find ‘tsumu and apologize but he wasn’t there. You pout a bit thinking you really hurt his feelings so you were going to call him but you heard the front door unlock.

You take a couple of steps over to the door to see him walk in with two plastic bags in hand. One had two to-go boxes and the other held a small and clear container with what looks like cake.

As ‘tsumu takes his shoes off he looks up to see you standing there looking cute as shit in his t-shirt. “Hey baby, you okay?” he asks with a smile as he walks over to you.

You smile back and it makes his chest warm. “Yeah honey,” you say softly as you cup his cheek, “I’m sorry for being snappy earlier. I didn’t mean it.”

‘Tsumu gives you a wider smile as he leans into your touch and moves his head to press a kiss on your palm. “I know baby, it’s okay,” he says as he sets the bags on the kitchen counter before opening them. He pulls the to-go boxes out and opens one up to you, “Your favorite from the shop around the corner, m’lady. And a mini bundt cake.”

You giggle and lean up to press a kiss on his cheek with a loud smooch, “Thank you, ‘tsumu.”

“You’re welcome, baby,” he smiles as he looks at you then your lips, “Can I hold you? I missed you.”

You didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his neck and stood on your tippy-toes to press a loving kiss against his lips. Atsumu sighed into the kiss as he slides his hands over your hips towards your lower back.

Both of you pull away with smiles on your faces. You look up at him with sparkling eyes and a smile. “Love you, baby,” Atsumu whispers against your lips.

“Love you too, ‘tsumu.”

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

Bokuto Kotaro

Working from home had its pros but the cons? Staring at two different screens all day in the same chair can be the most irritating con. Yes, you can get up and stretch while working in your pj’s by today was not the case.

You’ve been back and forth with the same damn project you and your team have been working on for weeks. Everything and anything regarding the said project has been making negative impacts and affecting communication with your team. As much as you love them, your patients was running thin.

You were in a middle of a phone call when Kou came home from practice. He stayed longer than usual for practice for a game coming up so he came home wanting to see you right away since he missed you so damn much.

But he was caught in your wrath when he barged into your little home office in the guest bedroom of your shared home to gain your attention.

“Baby!” he called out loudly as he opened the door and walked towards you with his bright smile.

Now he usually does this when he comes home but with what was going on with work you just couldn’t take it. Feeling him wrap his beefy arms around your shoulders it felt like the weight of your project was pulling you down. And the pressure you felt in your chest made you antsy and uncomfortable right away.

“Kou, get off I’m in a meeting,” you scolded as you lightly pushed him away and turned back towards the computer screens.

Oh our sweet owl’s hair deflated had the sound of your mean mom voice, he likes to call it. A deep pout settles on his face as he stares at the back of your head. “Meanie…,” he mumbled then his eyes move behind your head to the two screens. He recognized the slides you were looking at.

“The same project?” he thinks…

He remembers you venting about your frustrations with the project a couple days ago and he thought things have settled down now. So he steps out of the room while closing the door softly. Yes, he’s a little hurt but you’re stressed so it’s not something he’ll take to heart.

You’re a patient woman. One of the many reasons why he loves you. When he has his downs, you’re there for him the entire way and he’ll do the exact same for you. When you’re frustrated you do tend to want to be alone for a minute or two than wanting any physical interaction like Kou does.

So, since you still have 15 more minutes left till you clock out for the day, Kou gets the idea to hopefully lift your spirits. He had called you during his break to let you know he’ll be picking food up for dinner so it was all ready for you once you were.

Exactly 15 minutes later, you let out the longest sigh as you get up from your chair to stretch. You also let out a quiet ‘jesus christ’ in frustration too when you remembered how you greeted Kou back earlier. You hate acting out like that because it leaves a bad taste in your mouth. So you move your stiff legs out the bedroom door.

“Hey, sweets!” kou smiled with his hair standing a bit.

Your eyes widen as you slip an ‘oh’ in surprise seeing a little fort in the living room and take-out boxes ready to open. It looks like Kou was laying the pillows from the bed down on the floor with blankets galore piled together.

You giggle as you take in the scene. The warm fairy lights were on and so was the tv. The smell of food made you stomach growl. Kou sits on one side of the fort with a huff. “Come here, baby,” he pouts with open arms, “I know you had a hard day.”

You move hastily towards him to sit on his lap and arms wrapped around his neck. Your face nuzzled into his neck. Kou takes you in a warm embrace with his arms around your waist. “M’sorry, Kou,” you mumbled as he held you tighter against him, “Stupid project is kicking my ass.”

Kou laughs softly as he presses kisses on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” he says before pulling away from you, “I got your favorite from that restaurant down the street.”

You smile and cup his face before smooshing his cheeks together. “You’re the best, you know?” you say as a fact before giving him a fat kiss like you usually do when he comes home.

“You are though,” you mumble against your kiss as he squeezes your waist and pulls away with a happy smile, “The best and the prettiest baby…”

You laugh wholeheartedly as he began to smother you in kisses and raspberries. “Kou!” you laugh, “Come onnn, I’m hungry!”

“Nope!” he laughed and continued to kiss and tickle your sides, “This is what you get for being mean!”

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

[paperultra]

THE FIVE NONSENSES

[ SOULMATE!AU ] Pairing: Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader x Miya Atsumu Summary: Like most people, you do not meet the Miya twins so much as they are thrust upon you. Unlike most people, you are thrust upon them as well. read on ao3 | read on quotev

CHAPTER THREE: SMELL Word Count: 8,205 words Warnings: Swearing

“Hey, you! Join the photography club!”

You narrowly dodge the flyer thrust in front of your face, knocking back into someone in the process. Flustered, you move in the opposite direction, only to knock shoulders with another student walking the other way. Both of your apologies get lost in the noise.

“Join the basketball team! Winter Cup finalists two years in a row!”

“Improve your focus in calligraphy club!”

“Join kyudo club!”

“Join marching band!”

With a small huff, you grab the strap of Osamu’s schoolbag and squeeze through the crowd. Osamu looks over his shoulder at you, and you meet his raised eyebrow with a grimace; not long after, a hand presses between your shoulder blades to usher you forward.

“Dammit,” Atsumu grumbles, digging his phone out of his pocket. “Where’s the volleyball club?”

“Hell if I know,” Osamu says. “Call Aran.”

“’S what I’m doin’, dumbass.” Punching a few buttons, the other boy presses his phone against his ear with visible impatience. “Aran!” Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as Atsumu’s voice carries high over the clamor surrounding you, causing several students to swivel their heads. “Where the hell’s the volleyball club? … Class 1-7? Seriously?”

Hanging up without so much as a thank-you, Atsumu quickens his stride down the congested hallway. Osamu follows suit, and you end up seizing the back of his blazer as the three of you head to Class 1-7, evading arms and signs and flyers the entire way.

Having visited the school before to watch Ojiro play, you had known that Inarizaki High School is big; navigating it as a student on the first day of school, however, is a whole different animal. You hadn’t realized it was this big. Or this crowded. After a year of being large fish in a small pond, you now find yourselves in an ocean.

At least you have the twins to rough it with.

(It should be noted that your thankfulness varies wildly from hour to hour.)

Near the entrance to Class 1-7, you spot Ojiro wielding a bright sign advertising the volleyball club. He easily stands head and shoulders above most of the other students, and the sight of a familiar face helps you relax – even though you’d just seen him at graduation a few weeks ago, he somehow looks older here, comfortable and self-assured in the raucous halls of Inarizaki.

“Yo! Aran!” Osamu and Atsumu call out, running up to the second-year. You, still holding onto Osamu’s blazer, are unceremoniously yanked along.

Ojiro perks up and grins widely when you all reach him, freeing one hand to bump fists with the twins. “’Bout time you guys showed up. Thought ya chickened out or somethin’,” he exclaims, then nods at you with a grin. “Good to see you here too, [L/n]-chan.”

You smile back. “Hi, Ojiro-senpai.”

(Of all the people the twins consider friends, which have always been rather scant in number, you like Ojiro Aran the best.)

“Chickened out?” Atsumu scoffs. “No way. You scrubs are gonna need us if ya wanna win nationals this year.”

A laugh bursts out of Ojiro’s chest. “Don’t ya think you’re gettin’ a little ahead of yerself?”

“Yeah, well, what’s new?” Osamu pipes up. He elbows his brother’s side, jabbing a thumb at the doorway when the latter chokes up and glares. “Hurry yer ass up, ‘Tsumu, we haven’t even signed up yet.”

You cough. Ojiro laughs again, leading the three of you into the classroom.

There’s a ton of students already inside when you enter. In one corner of the room is the girls’ volleyball club, and in the other is the boys’, though many are mingling and wandering around to chat. A few are upperclassmen wearing the Inarizaki volleyball team’s jacket – the rest, you assume, are first-years hoping for a chance to join.

It’s not surprising for a school that’s gone to the Spring Tournament almost thirty times. Most of these applicants will be benched for their entire high school career.

Following Ojiro to the desk for the boys’ volleyball club, you encounter the two people sitting behind it.

“Arata-senpai, Kobayashi-senpai,” Ojiro announces, clapping one hand on Osamu’s shoulder and the other on Atsumu’s, “got a package deal for ya.”

The first thing you notice about Arata is how tall he is when he’s sitting down. Then he slowly stands up, and your eyes widen as he keeps going and going, finally stopping about half a head taller than Ojiro.

Arata breathes in, vulpine eyes narrowing, before he slams his hands down on the desk with a loud thwap.

“If it ain’t the Miya twins!” he chirps, voice much peppier than expected, and you choke back a surprised laugh. “I watched yer match last year at nationals. You two think ya have what it takes to be part of a powerhouse?”

“Why talk big when we can just show ya, senpai?” Atsumu says, as if he hadn’t been gassing himself up to Ojiro moments before. He pulls out his signup sheet, already filled out in his usual large, messy print, and slides it over to the captain, leaning over the desk with one hand on his hip. “Got yers, ’Samu?”

“Yup.” Osamu slides his over as well, handwriting slightly neater.

Arata takes the sheets happily. Your gaze falls upon his hands by chance, and then it remains there, taking stock of the scribbles of purple and red decorating his skin.

Ojiro whistles. “Looks like yer soulmate’s havin’ fun with some gel pens,” he comments, pointing at Arata’s hands.

“Hm?” The other boy blinks and takes a moment to inspect the words curving below his knuckles. His brow furrows, and he squints before finally breaking out into a goofy smile. “Ah,” he says, and his voice takes on a distinctly fonder, dreamier tone, “guess they are. They’ve been practicin’ hiragana a lot lately. See? Pretty good, eh?” Arata stretches his hands out face-down, showing them off.

(You can barely read the characters.)

“Neat,” Atsumu says, though his tone has flattened just slightly.

“Right?” Arata doesn’t seem to notice. “We’re gonna finally see each other in person next summer after I graduate. They’re graduating high school this June in Spain …”

“He’s really excited,” Ojiro mutters to the three of you, “in case ya couldn’t tell.”

The volleyball captain’s cheeks turn an endearing shade of pink. “What’s wrong with that, huh, Ojiro? I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with them, so it’s a good sign I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

Next to you, Osamu shifts and shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. You feel his elbow brush against your arm, bare skin separated by layers of fabric.

The rest of your life.

A strange feeling forms in the pit of your stomach. It’s the same kind you get whenever your parents ask about Osamu, and whenever you see couples wearing matching outfits at the mall – a feeling a little less than longing, and a little more than guilt. Like you ought to be doing more, saying more, expressing more. Feeling more.

You wonder what it is like to be Arata, infatuated, proudly flaunting the colors on his hands.

The girl sitting at the desk finally speaks up.

“I thought we were talkin’ about volleyball, not yer love life, Arata.”

Your gaze moves away from Arata’s wrists and onto the girl.

Still sitting, she and the captain paint a picture of a mouse and an elephant, her tiny form complemented by large, expressionless eyes and a small nose. The maroon jacket hanging off her shoulders looks one size too big.

And yet, when her gaze flicks over and meets yours, you’re overtaken by a sudden chill.

Scary.

Arata jumps and glances down at her. “O-Oh, right! Sorry, Kobayashi-chan, I guess I got carried away.”

“It’s fine.” Kobayashi continues to stare at you, and you start to feel slightly uncomfortable. “’S why I’m here.”

“Yeah!” Coughing, Arata rubs the back of his neck and turns his attention back to the twins. “Gettin’ back on track … if it isn’t obvious already, Kobayashi-chan is our manager. She’s real good. Real detailed.”

“But I’m also in my third year, which means we’re currently lookin’ for a new manager for next year,” Kobayashi supplies. “So if ya happen to know any first-years who’re qualified and willing to apply for the right reasons, please let me know.”

Your brow furrows at that.

“Whaddaya mean, ‘the right reasons’?” Osamu asks.

A sheepish laugh escapes Arata’s throat. “Well … the volleyball team’s pretty popular, so we get a lot of folks wantin’ to be manager just to get closer to the team and see if one of the members is their soulmate.” He sighs. “It’s not that I wanna keep any soulmates apart, but those kinds of applicants slow down the search, and obviously, we want a manager who actually wants to manage.”

Ah. Already, some of your peers already seem like they’re on a time crunch to find their person. Soulmates are getting to be a bigger and bigger deal as you get older, and with that comes certain expectations. It’s not hard to figure out why some would hope to have someone popular and athletic.

“Sorry, don’t know anybody like that,” Atsumu replies at the same time Ojiro says your name.

You look at your senior, surprised.

He directs a finger upwards. “Ya know volleyball pretty well,” he points out. “Wanna apply? You already manage the twins, after all.”

“Oi, what’s that s’posed to mean –”

Arata seems to finally notice you, eyebrows raising. “Oh! Sorry, didn’t see ya there,” he exclaims. “What’s yer name?”

Reluctantly, you step up next to Osamu and introduce yourself.

“[L/n]-chan. So ya know the twins?”

“I’ve lived on the same street as them since elementary school.”

“Really! Ya must know them well, then.”

“More than well,” says Kobayashi.

She points down at your hand. Arata follows her finger, and you resist the urge to curl your pinkie when his mouth drops.

“Oh, damn, you’re soulmates with – er, uh –”

Osamu and Atsumu just stand there, watching the captain flounder. After a few seconds, you reach up and tug Osamu’s earlobe sharply.

“Osamu,” you say, both as an answer and as a scolding, ignoring the muttered ‘ow’ coming from your right.

Clapping his hands, Arata nods. “You’re soulmates with Osamu-kun! Wow, that’s amazing. And you’ve been together since elementary school? He’d think and play better with you just bein’ there.”

You smile, embarrassed.

“That doesn’t make her the right candidate, Arata,” says Kobayashi. “Even if she really wants to manage the team, she might still prioritize Osamu-kun over everybody else. The last thing I want is a manager who picks favorites.”

She says it so bluntly, so seriously. Your smile weakens as her words hit a sore spot you didn’t know you even had.

There must be a good way to disagree. The two truths of the matter are that being a good manager would mean risking being a bad soulmate, and that being a good manager is a risk you can afford. Osamu isn’t the type of person who needs to be worried about. He gets scraped up, but he doesn’t mind it, and he knows his limits. If a player got hurt right as Osamu called you for something, you know you’d check on the other player first. Even if the other player was Atsumu. (Maybe.)

Osamu simply does not need you to take care of him. You don’t know how to express this without seeming like you don’t care as much as you should.

Atsumu cuts in before you can organize your thoughts into words.

“She wouldn’t,” he says, “unless it’s me. But ’Samu and I are soulmates, so we’re already at our best when we’re on the court.”

The upperclassmen before you tilt their heads simultaneously.

“… Wait,” Arata says after a while, slowly. “You’re tellin’ me that Osamu-kun has two soulmates?”

Osamu glances at you, eyes half-lidded, and you can only meet his eyes for a few seconds before you have to look at the ground.

“Guess I’m favored,” Osamu replies.

“Wow.” Huffing out a laugh, Arata crosses his arms. “Two soulmates … huh. I wonder how that works …” Kobayashi grunts and he clears his throat. “S-Sorry. Anyway, [L/n]-chan, if you’re interested in the manager position, just fill this out and give it to Kobayashi-chan. We’re taking applications until July first or until we find someone, whichever comes first.”

He hands you a sheet of paper, and you take it tentatively.

“My phone number’s at the top in case you have any questions,” Kobayashi adds. Her voice lowers, but its monotony remains. “And if ya end up applying, know that I won’t show any favoritism just because of yer soulmate.”

You take in a breath through your nose, fingers curling into the application in your hands. “Yeah, of course.”

She nods once, then leans back in her seat. The set of her mouth relaxes just slightly, and she crosses her arms, morphing from a cutthroat manager to a tired senpai.

“See ya after school. Good luck,” she says. Her eyes bore into yours. “To all of ya.”

There’s a moment of silent surprise between you, Osamu, and Atsumu. Then all three of you bow as Ojiro and Arata chuckle.

“Thank you!”

—

The twins, predictably, become one of three first-year regulars on Inarizaki’s boys’ volleyball team. You place your manager application in the top drawer of your desk, which you pull out frequently over the next three weeks just to stare at the blank form, unsure about the whole thing.

Saturday afternoon rolls around, and you’ve taken the paper out of your binder and set it on top of your desk at home when your phone buzzes.

Osamu: you home

You: yeah

Osamu: ok

And that’s it. You stare at your screen for a few seconds, unblinking, before you shoot up from your seat and scramble to your dresser to get changed.

Five minutes and a bit of haphazard cleaning later, there’s a few firm knocks on the front door, followed by incessant banging. You stalk over to open the door before it’s knocked off its hinges.

“I could hear you,” you tell Atsumu, unimpressed, as the two enter and shuck off their shoes.

“I know.”

He deftly dodges the kick you aim at his ankle. This usually happens nowadays, unfortunately, but it doesn’t stop you from trying.

“’S just you here?” Osamu asks, shuffling into some slippers and walking further into the house. His gym bag hangs from his shoulder, big and bulky, and you look at it curiously.

“… Yeah?”

“Fer someone left home alone all the time, you’re duller than a rock,” Atsumu says. “Folks’re gone and ya don’t even throw a party? Geez.”

You narrow your eyes as he grins. “Maybe I just want peace and quiet after havin’ to sit in class with you all week, Atsumu. Anyways, why are you guys here?”

You receive no answer. After eyeing the kitchen, Osamu turns and heads down the hallway, prompting you to follow. You’re further confused when he enters the bathroom and sets his bag on the countertop.

As he unzips it, Atsumu squeezes past you and reaches into the bag, pulling out a –

A shower cap.

“… Is the shower at yer place broken or something?”

“No,” Osamu says, and he pulls something else out. “Ma’s home.”

You stare at the box in his hands. Then you look back up at the twins.

“She’s gonna kill you.”

—

Watching Osamu and Atsumu bleach each other’s hair is like watching a train wreck in slow motion.

Their dark T-shirts have speckles of orange on them, there are bits of foil littering the sink and the bathroom floor, and the acrid stench of bleach filling the bathroom is starting to creep down the hallway. You can only hope it doesn’t linger past Sunday night when you go back to the dorms.

“If you screw this up, I’m shaving yer giant head in yer sleep.”

“I’m doin’ it better than you did, ya scrub!”

You stand outside, shirt collar pulled up and over your nose, as Atsumu finishes combing through the top part of Osamu’s hair. It’s an incredible thing to witness: Osamu sitting on the shower seat, hunched over and holding a sheet of foil over his undercut while Atsumu hangs over him, wearing one of the shower caps to keep his own hair out of the way. It’s also a disaster.

You lift your phone up to snap a quick picture.

“Oi! What’re ya doin’?”

“Making a present for Ojiro.” Upon viewing the photographic evidence, you realize something. “You’re not gonna tell Auntie that you dyed yer hair at my house, right?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Osamu assures, letting Atsumu hold onto the foil while he pulls on a shower cap. He sets a timer, and the two of them hurry out of the bathroom to escape the fumes. “She won’t be thinkin’ about the details when she finds out.”

“Like she’d ever blame ya, anyway.” Atsumu scoffs. “You’re the favorite and you ain’t even her kid.”

“Well, I don’t wanna take my chances.” You recall the countless number of times the twins had received a whooping for something stupid they did, and the countless number of times you had just barely managed to slip under the radar by keeping your mouth shut. “Y’know, she might make ya dye it black again if the school doesn’t like it.”

“Please. If anything, they’ll thank us fer givin’ them an easy way to tell us apart.”

“Is that why you’re dyein’ yer hair? You’re already in different classes.”

“It ain’t fer class,” Osamu says. “It’s fer volleyball.”

Atsumu presses his back against the wall and slides down to the floor, pulling up a game on his phone. “Some of the scrubs still can’t tell us apart on court,” he sniffs. “’M tired of it.”

That, you think, makes a lot more sense.

Osamu and Atsumu have always taken full advantage of being identical twins. You’ve seen them pull just about every stunt in the book – switching the way they part their hair on random days, pretending to be the other when one of them gets in trouble, making money off classmates who bet on knowing who’s who (and lying on more than one occasion). Looking alike isn’t usually a point of contention between them.

When it does bother them, volleyball is usually involved. They don’t always wear different shirts or numbered jerseys at practice, and you’ve been to enough of them to know that this can cause issues at the beginning of the year. The coach calls out the wrong name, a teammate calls for Osamu when they mean Atsumu, things like that.

They get especially miffed when one gets praised for something the other did. Atsumu, in particular, hates that the most.

“Ya have anythin’ to eat?”

Head snapping up, you look at Osamu and nod halfway through absorbing what he’s just asked. “There’s leftover onigiri in the fridge and snacks in the cupboard,” you reply, stepping over Atsumu’s outstretched legs to lead his brother towards the kitchen.

(“Heat up an onigiri fer me,” Atsumu calls out.)

(“Get it yerself, lazy-ass,” Osamu shoots back.)

In the kitchen, you fish out the last two onigiri the twins’ mom had given you yesterday and present them to Osamu.

“Here. You and Atsumu can each have one.”

“These the ones with salted salmon?”

You nod.

Osamu thinks for a moment. His lips purse, his eyelids droop, and even though he kind of looks like a lunch lady with that shower cap on, it’s cute.

“I’ll make ochazuke and yaki onigiri,” he decides. “What do ya want?”

“I’ll just have some chips or something. I just ate lunch, so I’m not that hungry.”

He stares at you, then accepts the onigiri from your hands. “Okay.”

Putting the rice balls on the counter next to the stove, Osamu retrieves a small plate, a bowl, and a mug from the cupboard. He finds most of everything else pretty quickly – the cast iron skillet under the oven, the spatula in the drawer right next to the fridge, and the soy sauce and oil in the lower corner cabinet. The only thing he asks for you to locate is the green tea, which you get from the depths of the second shelf in the pantry.

While he works, you grab a bag of your favorite chips and pop it open, leaning against the unused counter on the other side of the stove to watch.

You like it whenever Osamu cooks. The click of the stovetop turning on, the curve of oil being poured into the skillet, and you’re rocking gently in a small boat, curled up in an overstuffed chair on a rainy day.

(It’s an extension of how he feels, you’ve learned – for as much as Miya Osamu loves volleyball, he loves food just a teeny bit more.)

When the oil is hot enough, he unwraps one of the onigiri and places it in.

You turn the opening of your chip bag towards him as he wipes his hands on a towel. “Here,” you offer once he notices.

“Thanks.”

Atsumu’s onigiri sizzles in the skillet while the water for Osamu’s tea continues to heat up. Osamu mirrors your posture on his side of the stove, messily crunching down on several chips, and the two of you wait.

“Didja apply for the manager position yet?”

You swallow too early, rough shards of chips cutting down your throat. Fighting the urge to cough, you shake your head and reach for the water you’d left on the table this morning. “No. Still thinkin’ about it.” He hums. “You guys haven’t found one yet?”

“Kobayashi-senpai’s real picky.” He flips the onigiri over with one sharp push of the spatula, brushing soy sauce over the freshly grilled side. The water boiler beeps right after, and he seamlessly transitions over to pour the hot water over the teabag in his mug. “Most of the applicants we saw were annoyin’, anyway.”

“Oh.”

You recall the last practice you’d attended, watching from the balcony with your homework as the team ran laps around the court. The applicant on trial that day had watched them go by a few times, still and proper, before suddenly turning to Kobayashi and excusing themselves from the gym. They never came back.

On the walk back to the dorms that evening, Atsumu explained that the student had a counter for how many times their soulmate would pass by them.

(“Waste of time n’ space,” he’d complained. “Who’d wanna be with someone that desperate?”)

“Ya wouldn’t be half bad at it.”

“… Yeah …”

“If ya don’t wanna apply, just say so.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t know if I’ll wanna do it for the next three years.”

“Whaddaya want to do, then?”

“I dunno.” With a sigh, you set your bag of chips down. “I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to apply.”

Osamu shrugs. “If ya are,” he says, turning off the stove top, “don’t do it just ’cause of me.”

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, sharp and knowing as he flips the yaki onigiri onto the plate he’d pulled out earlier.

After calling Atsumu, who had migrated to the living room couch while he had been waiting, the twins scarf down their afternoon snack in no time at all and raid your cupboard for the complimentary snacks your parents usually bring back from their trips.

Halfway into his fourth wafer, Atsumu’s timer goes off.

“Oh, shit.” Shoving the rest of the wafer into his mouth and silencing the alarm, Atsumu gets up and eagerly makes a beeline to the bathroom.

“… Do ya think it worked?” you mutter as you and Osamu stand up more slowly.

“I dunno.”

A loud swear explodes from the bathroom.

You look at each other sharply. Wiping the crumbs from your lips, the two of you run over to investigate.

As you get closer, you hear the sink running, then Atsumu muttering underneath his breath.

When you peek into the bathroom, your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline.

Holy shit.

“Holy shit,” Osamu says, leaning past you to get a better look. “’Tsumu, ya look like a carrot.”

“Shaddup, ’Samu,” Atsumu moans, rinsing his hair angrily. “I know. Fuck.”

Hair bleach on dark hair, as you find out, works similarly to hair bleach on dark fabric. Contrary to the sandy blond the older twin had desired, the result he had gotten is instead a bright, burnt yellow-orange matching the stains on his T-shirt. Not carrot, necessarily, but definitely not blond.

“Ugh.” Nose and forehead wrinkling, Atsumu leans toward the mirror, pinching a section of hair between his fingers. “It … it ain’t that bad, right?” His pitch rises with the slightest hint of denial. “I’m pullin’ it off.”

“It’s that bad,” Osamu says.

“’Samu!”

“Maybe you can bleach it again?” you suggest.

“And then his hair falls out? Bad idea.”

“Dye it, then, like you are.”

“We don’t have money left to buy a different color.” With a sigh, Osamu puts his hands on his hips. “Damn. Sorry, ’Tsumu.”

Atsumu groans and thunks his forehead against the mirror, dripping water all the way down its surface onto the counter. His frustration is so palpable that you can feel it prickling your skin.

If he hadn’t been so excited before, you’d probably poke fun. You should poke fun, but the disappointed twist of his lips and the droopiness of his sopping wet hair just makes you feel bad. He looks like a wet puppy.

Dammit.

You take your phone out.

Osamu tracks the movement. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Lookin’ something up.” You press on the first link you see, skim the webpage quickly, and put your phone back into your pocket. “I’m headin’ out fer a bit. Stay here.”

“… ’Kay.”

“Whatever,” Atsumu grumbles.

After grabbing your wallet and checking its contents, you head outside to drag your bike out from underneath the vacant carport. And as you hop onto the seat, pedaling down towards the nearest drugstore, you tell yourself that Atsumu better thank you on his hands and knees once you get back.

—

“Blue shampoo?” Atsumu’s tone is suspicious as he slathers the back of Osamu’s hair in grey dye.

“It’s supposed to cancel out the orange.” Turning the bottle to face you, you read the description beneath the brand name. “‘Eliminates brassy, orange undertones.’ See?”

“It ain’t gonna fuck up my hair even more?”

“’Course not,” you retort, all hopes of veneration quickly fading away. “I ain’t an asshole, Atsumu.”

His eyebrow twitches, hands slowing. You take the opportunity to place the bottle sideways in the crook of his neck, forcing him to tilt his head to hold it in place.

“Oi –”

“Go try it. I’ll finish Osamu’s hair.”

“Yer so bossy,” Atsumu grumbles, but he lets you nudge him out the way, peeling his gloves off and grabbing the shampoo.

You snap some gloves on in turn, keeping one eye on Osamu’s hair and the other on Atsumu as he ducks his head beneath the sink faucet. They’d pretty much finished up applying the dye for Osamu, at least from what you can tell, so you start combing through the locks with your fingers to make sure everything is covered.

Miya hair is very thick. Soft, too. You hope all this bleaching and dyeing won’t ruin it too much.

“Hm,” Osamu hums abruptly.

You stop. “What?”

“Nothin’.” You furrow your brow but resume, only to just barely hear him mumble, “… Feels nice.”

Oh.

A smile crawls onto your lips without warning, the space behind your ribcage suddenly cozy and soft.

“Alright, I’m doin’ it,” Atsumu announces. You look up just in time to see him squeeze a dollop of shampoo into his hand. “Euch! It’s so blue!”

“Why do ya sound so surprised?!”

“Shaddup, I just wasn’t expectin’ it to be so dark! … Smells okay, though …”

While the shampoo does its work on Atsumu’s hair, you take a little extra time combing Osamu’s. He remains quiet and still, thumbs tapping idly on the dark screen on his phone. You wait for him to make more snide remarks at Atsumu’s expense or complain about the smell of the dye, but he doesn’t.

You eventually finish up while the water still runs blue and sudsy into the bowl of the sink. Osamu mutters a thank you and ambles off after eyeing his brother for a few seconds. You linger for a while longer.

(God, you hope it works. If not for Atsumu’s sake, then for your pride and your wallet.)

After what seems like forever, he rinses out the last of the shampoo, wrings his hair out a bit, and straightens up to look in the mirror.

You examine his reflection as well. It’s less orange, yes, but still not as light as he had wanted, more gold than sand. Not necessarily good, but certainly less bad.

Atsumu fixates on the more muted shade of his hair for a minute or two. His lips press downwards at the corners, and then they part to say your name.

You blink.

“What?”

“Why’d ya buy the shampoo?”

He sounds almost accusatory, but not quite; there’s an undertone that you very, very rarely hear in his voice. He meets your eyes in the mirror, hair a dripping, tangled mess.

“… ’Cause I felt bad fer ya,” you admit unwillingly. Atsumu makes a face, and you sharpen your tongue, because that is what feels comfortable with him. Normal. “And I didn’t want to hear ya mopin’ and complainin’ about it all week.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” he persists. “I coulda pulled it off.”

You scoff. “Just ’cause you’re taller than most of the school doesn’t mean they wouldn’t’a noticed. And anyways, it’s better now, ain’t it?”

“I didn’t ask ya to buy it.”

“Ya didn’t even know what it was until I told you.”

“An’ if I did, I still wouldn’t’ve asked!”

“Yeah, ’cause yer prideful ass would rather die than ask fer help!” you snap, jabbing his bicep with your finger. “God! I knew ya wouldn’t even say thank you!”

“Well, if ya knew I was gonna be a dick about it, why’d ya waste yer money?!”

“I felt bad fer ya!” you screech. “My mistake!”

“Yeah, yer mistake!” Atsumu shouts back.

Chest heaving for breath, you glare at him. He glares in return. Temper pinks his face and the tips of his ears, flares his nostrils and curls his lip in that fierce and familiar way. In the back of your mind, you know you are doing the same.

Asshole.

You’re angry, yes. And offended, and exasperated, and and and –

And hurt.

“It’s so hard,” you say, your voice deciding to crack at the worst time possible, “to be nice to you sometimes, Atsumu.”

When the words leave your throat, his face grows blank in that way you’ve always hated, his mouth pressing into a fine line.

“So?” he replies.

You roll your eyes. “Forget it.”

Casting one last glance at the bottle of shampoo next to the sink, you clench your fists and turn to leave. What a waste of money. This is the last time you’re ever going to feel bad for him.

A hand wraps around your elbow upon your first step outside the bathroom.

“… Are ya cryin’?”

“No,” you bite, wishing he hadn’t asked because now you do feel like crying, just a little bit.

Atsumu pauses for an excruciating moment. You can practically feel his distaste for whatever words he’s about to say.

“I’ll pay ya back,” he mutters. “Fer the shampoo.”

“No.”

“Whaddaya mean, no?”

“I don’t want yer money.”

“Well, what do ya want, ’cause I ain’t owin’ ya anything.”

“I want a thank you.”

“… Can’t I just –”

“No.”

Atsumu throws his hands up. “Fine!” he says. “Thanks fer buyin’ somethin’ I didn’t ask fer! There, ya happy now?”

“I want ya to mean it,” you say quietly.

“I did mean it.”

You cross your arms.

He groans. Glancing around as if checking for hidden cameras, Atsumu slowly pushes his bangs away from his face and wipes his nose, sniffing.

“… Fine,” he eventually grumbles at the floor tiles. Cheeks puffed, he looks up at you from the corner of his eye and scratches the back of his head. “The shampoo fixed it a little bit,” the words struggle their way out of his mouth, “so … thanks … fer gettin’ it fer me. Ya didn’t have to.”

He looks like he’s just eaten soap, his ears still red, and that’s how you know he’s being sincere. Your shoulders relax a little bit.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Atsumu’s expression, almost doleful for just that moment, blooms into something more sarcastic once you accept his gratitude. He gestures at the doorway behind you. “Can I go now?”

“Dry the mirror and the counter first.”

“But I said thank you.”

You throw a towel at his face and walk away, more satisfied than not.

—

“How’s Osamu-kun doing?”

You prop your phone up against the wall behind your desk, tilting your pen between your fingers. “He’s fine, Ma.”

“Did ya tell him how good his curry is? He makes it better than me.”

“Yeah, he says he’s glad you guys like it.”

After resolving the blue shampoo issue with Atsumu on Saturday, you’d gone back to the kitchen and found Osamu chopping vegetables and tofu next to the sink. At first, you figured he was hungry again, but upon your questioning, he’d only denied it.

(“’S fer you.”

“… Fer me? No, you don’t have to –”

“Yeah, I know. Ya don’t like the curry at the cafeteria, so bring mine back to the dorm and save it in the fridge fer later. If ya don’t want it, leave it fer yer folks to eat when they get back.”)

He didn’t leave much room for debate. And since he was using your family’s food to make it anyway, you accepted, a bit perplexed but happy nonetheless. You hadn’t expected him to remember your complaint about the cafeteria’s bland curry.

The amount he made was enough to fill two Tupperware containers, one of which you left for your parents when they returned two days later. Needless to say, they were delighted.

“What a thoughtful boy. He’s so good to you, honey.”

You smile, walking back to your desk. “Yeah.”

(“Ya like dark chocolate in it, right?”)

Your mom sighs. It’s a familiar sigh, and you click your pen, knowing what she is about to say before she even takes a breath.

“I just don’t know why he hasn’t asked ya out yet.”

You can hear your dad speak up between chews in the background. “It ain’t like how it was back when we were young, dear. Soulmates these days don’t like makin’ things so formal and official.”

“Oh, I know, but wouldn’t it be sweet? I was so happy when we went on our first official date.”

“The one at the konbini ’cause I couldn’t afford anythin’ nicer?”

“Yes. I loved it.”

“I know. You were smilin’ the whole time.”

“Glad you’re still in love,” you say dryly when they giggle over the phone, your nose wrinkling when your dad comes into view to give your mom a loud smooch. During these moments, you wish you’d called instead. “I’m still here.”

“Oh, I know, I know. Honey, you should bring Osamu-kun somethin’ fer his next game! A snack fer afterwards. He’ll like that.”

“Okay.” You’ve done that before. The first time you gave him an orange in your first year of junior high, he and Atsumu squabbled over dividing it for five minutes. Now you get double portions whenever you have the compulsion to bring something after games, just to keep the peace.

“Speaking of games …”

Here we go.

“… Have ya applied to be the manager for the volleyball team yet?”

“Um.” Glancing at the wall to your right, you click your pen some more, taking your time to answer. “I filled the form out …”

“[Y/n]! If ya dawdle, someone else’ll snatch it up. When’s it due?”

“July first or until they find someone.”

“Turn it in tomorrow!”

“Okay, okay.”

Your mom sighs again, and she places a bowl down onto the table. “… Otherwise, are ya okay? I’m sorry we missed ya at home.”

“It’s fine. I hung out with Kokomi and the twins. How was yer anniversary?”

“We’ll make sure we’re home next time you’re on weekend leave. And it was lovely! Oh, honey, ya should’ve seen the fish yer pa caught …”

You talk with your parents until they finish their dinner, hanging up once they’ve started cleaning up. As soon as the video cuts out, you release a breath and turn your phone face-down.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous about applying for the manager position. It’s the natural thing to do, because it’s natural to want to be involved with something Osamu is interested in, his own opinion on the matter notwithstanding. You think you might like being a manager. It’s not like you want to do something else more.

Getting rejected by Kobayashi would be horrible, though.

Maybe you’ll wait a little longer to turn your application in. Polish it up some more, and such.

—

After volleyball practice ends, and after everyone who had lingered behind to practice some more is ready to call it a night, Atsumu tells you and Osamu that he’s staying a little longer to practice his jump float serves.

“Are ya sure? Cafeteria’s servin’ all-you-can-eat pasta for dinner.”

“I’ll be done before it closes.”

Osamu doesn’t look convinced. To be fair, neither are you; Atsumu often loses track of time when he stays behind, resulting in an extra hungry, extra irritable Atsumu.

“Atsumu,” you say.

He huffs at you. “Seriously, I will!” he insists, before turning to walk back to the end line. You, Osamu, Ginjima, Akagi, and Ojiro all look on helplessly as he throws a volleyball into the air and gives himself a running start.

“Don’t worry,” Kobayashi says, grabbing your attention just as he jumps. She holds up the key to the gymnasium. “I’ll kick him out before he misses dinner.”

Ojiro, ever the responsible one, lets out a noise of protest. “Senpai, I can lock up. You should go.”

“No, it’s fine.” Though her tone is impassive, she makes it clear that her mind is set as she waves him off. “I’m goin’ out to eat with my boyfriend later, anyway.”

You blink.

Though Ojiro is visibly reluctant, he acquiesces. “… Okay. Thank you, Kobayashi-senpai.”

“Mmhm,” Kobayashi hums, and her gaze falls upon you. “Make sure they get to the cafeteria in one piece, [L/n]-chan.”

“I will, senpai.”

You wait outside while the guys change out of their gym clothes and gather their things. Once they exit the building, you join them, listening idly to their chatter about today’s practice as the five of you trek towards the cafeteria.

“Hey, Ojiro-senpai, Akagi-senpai,” Ginjima speaks up during a lull in the conversation. “What Kobayashi-senpai said earlier …”

Attention piqued, you look at your upperclassmen for their reactions to Ginjima’s question. Next to you, Osamu does little to hide his curiosity as well.

Ojiro and Akagi, in turn, share a glance, and Ojiro raises an eyebrow at Ginjima.

“Yeah?” Ojiro replies.

“Well, y’know …” Ginjima presses expectantly, “when she said that she has a boyfriend, did she mean …?”

“That’s somethin’ you can ask Kobayashi-senpai about, ain’t it?”

You imagine doing just that and cringe.

Ginjima’s eyes widen, and he clears his throat. “Well –!” he replies, a bit too loudly. “I would, but I don’t want her to think I’m bein’ judgmental or somethin’. Plus, I’m just a first-year …”

“Aw, I think it’s fine if they know, Aran. It ain’t like she’s hidin’ it or anythin’,” Akagi says. Ojiro looks up for a moment in thought, then shrugs tentatively, and Akagi smiles at you and the two boys. “Kobayashi-senpai’s not datin’ her soulmate. They’re pretty serious, too.”

Ojiro rests his hands behind his head. “He’s a nice guy. Comes to games sometimes.”

“Oh, I see …”

You nod slowly, absorbing this new piece of information. Kobayashi has a boyfriend. A boyfriend that she goes on dates with, one she really likes. You wonder how long they’ve been together.

You wonder if Kobayashi’s met her soulmate yet.

“E-Excuse me! Hello!”

The quick patter of footsteps interrupts your train of thought. Glancing behind you, you stop short when you see one of your classmates running up to your group, waving one hand and holding a camera in the other. The golden orange of the sky burnishes her red hair.

“Naruko-san,” you and Ginjima greet at the same time. Ginjima laughs.

“Sorry to bother ya!” Naruko bows and quickly straightens, holding her camera up and smiling nervously. “I-I was just takin’ some pictures for photography club, and I was wonderin’ if you guys would mind me takin’ a picture?”

“How long’s it gonna take?” Osamu asks.

“Not too long. Five minutes? U-Unless y’all are in a hurry to get somewhere …”

“Not too much of a hurry. Just wanna make it to dinner.” Ojiro smiles, patting Osamu and Akagi’s backs. “Where do ya want us?”

Naruko brightens, her cheeks going red. “J-Just keep walkin’! The lighting’s perfect right now, and I wanna take a picture of yer backs with yer volleyball jackets on.” She glances at you, and her expression grows more nervous. “Er …”

You lock eyes with her for a few seconds before catching on. Nodding, you take a step towards Naruko to join her.

Osamu’s hand grasps your shoulder.

His hold is loose, but you bite back the urge to slump over at the sudden warmth of it, pausing instead to look back at him.

“Where’re ya goin’?”

You answer tentatively. “I don’t have a team jacket.”

“That’s fine. You’re walkin’ with us too.”

“Yeah, but …” You wet your lips. “Like, visually, it’ll look weird if one person doesn’t have one on …”

The corner of Osamu’s mouth twitches, and he frowns. You watch as his gaze moves past your shoulder. A sudden, brief twinge of irritation, not belonging to you, zings through your ribcage.

“Why’s that matter?”

“Yeah. C’mon, it’ll be fine,” Ojiro says.

“It’s okay!” Naruko suddenly blurts, and you jolt slightly, looking back at her. She bounces on her feet, voice even higher pitched. “I can do a more candid shot, now that I think about it! A-Actually, Miya-san, could ya give [L/n]-san yer jacket? And Ginjima-san, you can keep yers around yer waist …”

Her sudden change in idea perplexes you a bit. But Osamu seems to be satisfied, and he shrugs his jacket off, placing it over your shoulders.

After a bit of hesitation, you slide your arms through the sleeves.

(It’s just as warm.)

“Ooh, [L/n]-chan’s wearin’ Osamu’s jacket,” Ginjima teases behind his hand, and your face heats up.

“Okay.” Behind you, Naruko lets out a wistful-sounding sigh. “I’m ready. Y’all can start walkin’ now, just like ya were before.”

With only a bit of self-consciousness, the five of you follow her instructions. There are only a few clicks of the camera before Naruko calls out her thanks and goes off without another word, leaving you and the boys to speculate whether you’ll ever see the results.

“How cute,” Akagi comments. “She looked like she was gonna throw up, though.”

“I hope those were conflicting statements.”

“Okay, Aran, I wasn’t implying …”

While the two upperclassmen start to banter, you move to take Osamu’s jacket off, only for him to stop you.

“’S fine,” he says. “You can wear it if ya want.”

“Oh. Okay.”

And so you do.

—

The boys’ first practice game in July is brutal.

Many of your peers have come to watch. It’s a favorite after-school pastime of Inarizaki’s student populace, you’ve quickly discovered, to hop from one athletic club to the other simply to spectate and speculate. People pack the balcony and peek around the doorway, catching the scent of blood and sweat.

Between the crowd’s cheering and jeering, the squeak of sneakers on the gym floor, and the sound of palms ramming into volleyballs, the atmosphere is sharp, almost electric – something that you feel tingling on your skin as you stand on the sidelines, Kobayashi right by your side.

Atsumu delivers another devastating service ace. It ricochets off the corner of the other side of the court with a thunderous boom.

“Did you catch that, [L/n]-chan?” Kobayashi asks, arms crossed. “That was one of his better ones.”

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t.”

“Hm.”

You watch the slow, satisfied stretch of Atsumu’s smile, and wait patiently. “It’s okay. He ain’t done yet.”

Indeed, Atsumu is just getting started. You spare an amused glance at Osamu in front of the net, his hands locked protectively behind his head, before turning back to Atsumu as the volleyball is thrown back to him.

Raising your camera, you adjust the focus, finger ready on the shutter button.

Toss. Run. Jump.

Click.

On your other side, a girl pumps her fists and cheers.

“Wow! Another one!” she gushes.

You smile behind your lens. “Ya always sound so impressed, Tsubaki-chan.”

“I’m just excited! We’re crushin’ them in the last set!”

“’Course we are,” says Kobayashi. “Our offense is that much better. I’m a little disappointed.”

As your upperclassman patiently points out each player’s strengths and weaknesses, you keep an eye on the team and crouch low. You’ve got plenty of photos now that the game’s nearing its end – lots of sets, a few spikes and digs, some flashy jump serves. Hopefully, some of them have turned out halfway decent. Even though you’d widened the aperture to make up for the gym’s crappy lighting and adjusted the shutter speed for blurring, you still worry about your timing.

By the time Inarizaki scores the winning point, you’ve moved to the opposite end of the court and have to race back to capture their reactions.

One thing you like about the volleyball team is how expressive they are. Joy, passion, pride – off the high of a victory, they bare everything, whether it’s through their expressions or the way they move or both.

Tsubaki says your name excitedly as soon as the teams have finished thanking each other, tugging on your arm. “Can I see the action shots, [Y/n]-chan?” she requests.

“Ah, sure.”

You turn the camera towards her, and she leans in as you scroll through the photos, her grin widening.

“Wow! Yer timin’s amazin’. They look so cool!”

The praise brings summer to your cheeks. “Thanks,” you reply genuinely. After a moment of hesitation, you lift the camera again. “Smile, Manager-san?”

Tsubaki doesn’t hesitate to broaden her already present grin, throwing up a peace sign for good measure. Kobayashi looks your way as well, and you take one shot, knowing it will be kept.

“Cute!” Tsubaki exclaims.

Two shadows loom over your shoulders as the girl bestows you with another compliment. When you turn your head to the right, your nose nearly brushes Osamu’s cheek.

“Ya got any good shots of us, [Y/n]?” Atsumu asks expectantly.

“Yes, actually, I did,” you reply, going back through the camera roll with a particular image in mind. You’re only vaguely aware of the warmth they exude as they budge into your personal space, the smell of sweat lingering on their skin. “Here.”

You’re particularly proud of this one. It had been a split second of pure luck, standing on the sidelines when a window of opportunity opened for a fast-tempo set. You had felt it – you knew Atsumu would set to Osamu, and as Osamu jumped, arm reared back as Atsumu sent the ball to him, you had captured it.

Somehow, you always get the timing right with them.

“Cool,” the twins approve proudly.

“Email that one to us, will ya?” Atsumu says. “I ain’t lettin’ you photography nerds hoard it away.”

“She’s sendin’ all these to Arata-senpai, ya dolt.”

“Hey, I wanna see!” Gintama breaks into your little group, trying to sneak a peek in. “Did ya get one of my spikes?”

“Yeah, how about my jump serve?”

“That super cool block me and Ren did in the second set!”

“Didja get one of Coach?”

One by one, the team gathers around you, eager for a glimpse of their successes. The crowding is uncomfortable, but you try your best to show them what you can anyway, feeling a rare sense of pride about your own accomplishments.

You’re happy with your choice.

Tsubaki will be a great manager. Even when you first met her, you knew she had everything she'd need for the job – a passion for the sport, a desire to help others succeed, and an endless amount of perseverance. Inarizaki couldn’t ask for a better person to replace Kobayashi next year. She’ll do well in what she’s decided to do.

And so will you.

—

prev

[nova-amor]

whatever miya atsumu set his mind to, he wouldn't stop until he was 100% satisfied with the final result. regardless of whether it was practicing his serves or setting a new weightlifting personal record, atsumu was always determined to succeed.

so, it shouldn't come as a surprise that after challenging him to see who could last longer during sex, that atsumu would take it personally. he had cleared off his weekend schedule— canceling any plans and appointments that he had made to have an open schedule set aside just for you.

he had even set up a mini scoreboard on your nightstand, keeping an official record of how many orgasms you gave each other through the weekend. he had made it a serious challenge, determined to prove to you that he was willing to win no matter what.

atsumu planted a fat kiss on your swollen clit, the bud throbbing and sore from the continuous stimulation. he peered up at you with half-lidded eyes, swiping his tongue over his top lip to clean off the creamy stains of your release from his mouth.

he had been eating you out for what had felt like an eternity, sucking your soul straight out from your overwhelmed cunt. "your thighs are shaking so much," atsumu pointed out, resting his cheek along your inner thigh. he resisted the urge to smile, knowing how exhausted you were based on the way your brows furrowed and chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

"do you need a break? we can stop," your eyes snapped open at his suggestion, any sense of fatigue instantly fleeing. you shuffled your body away from his, his own moving up to sit on the balls of his feet.

"don't wanna stop— wanna keep going," you mumbled, determined to prove yourself. your hands worked quick to wrap themselves around his cock. you were absolutely determined to even out the scores, you weren’t going to lose this challenge. "we aren't stopping until you give up."

atsumu smirked, "m-me? g-give up?" he stuttered, hips bucking to match the pace you had set. you two hadn't even fucked yet— spending the last few hours pleasuring each other with your hands and mouths instead. "h-have you met me? i don't give up."

you returned the smirk, giving his shaft a rough squeeze; he let a groan slip out at the sensation. "well, you know me— i don't either."

[scaramoche]

" character x gn!reader but reader (characteristics that's doesn’t make them gn anymore)"

... yeah

[im-n-your-walls]

Haikyuu characters reaction to y/n asking for help coming out as bi/pan to their unsupportive/conservative parents...?

⊹₊⟡⋆⊹₊⟡⋆⊹₊⟡⋆Coming out⊹₊⟡⋆⊹₊⟡⋆⊹₊⟡⋆

list of links 🔗

mf is right beside you the whole time and will stay there

daichi, kuroo, ushijima, tendou

will throw hands at your parents if they try to hurt you

tendou, Nishinoya, Tanaka, saeko, yaku, atsumu

They made a PowerPoint for your parents on how to not be homophobic

sugawara, kita, yaku, yachi

good luck cuddles before and good job cuddles after

hinata, tendou, yamaguchi, asahi

made you dinner for your bravery

ushijima, kita, osumu, tendou, asahi, sugawara

[kira-fluff]

haikyuu!! neurodivergent headcanons 💕

tw: several listed mental illnesses, some of these are solely off of vibes but most of them I have reasons lol note! I do not believe autism is a mental illness or something that is "wrong" with an individual, hence why the title is "neurodivergent" rather than "mental illness". just had to put that out there! to all my neurodivergent babies I love you! a/n: hello! as a neurodivergent like myself (depression, anxiety, ptsd, bulimia, etc etc) i thought it would be really cool to do an analysis on one of my biggest hobbies (psychological illnesses) and relate them to haikyuu characters! some of them have a deeper explanation because I feel so strongly about it.

attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADD/ADHD) BOKUTO, hinata, NISHINOYA, atsumu, lev

generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) sugawara, OIKAWA, asahi, yamaguchi, yachi, aone, akaashi, tendo

social anxiety disorder (SAD) asahi, KENMA

post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) oikawa

depression (MDD) oikawa, KENMA, kuroo, suna, matsukawa, tendo

autism sakusa, USHIJIMA, kageyama, kyotani, kenma

eating disorder(s) (AND, BND, BED) OIKAWA, KENMA

obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) oikawa

borderline personality disorder (BPD) daishou

insomnia kuroo, kenma, osamu

hypersomnia suna

analysis under the cut

it's pretty obvious that bokuto struggles the most to self-regulate, even to others, but I personally believe that oikawa struggles the most with his mental health.

like almost everyone in haikyuu, oikawa is obsessed with volleyball, but he takes it to a point of overexertion and taking his anger and frustration at his own inadequacies out on others.

I really think oikawa's relationship between he and kageyama and he and ushijima are the ones that show how bad his anxiety is

ushijima and kageyama both don't understand the emotions oikawa is feeling which could be written off as them not understanding their talents, but I think it's something more

to me, I feel it is blatantly obvious that ushijima is autistic. he just so frequently seems to be unable to read the emotions of others or takes things literally when it's something else intended. I'm not autistic, though, so autistic community, let me know your thoughts!

bokuto and hinata both have an insane amount of energy, but struggle to be successful in school. sports works for both of them because their focus is constantly needed to be diverted or "all over the place" that it helps them be great players

kuroo is one of those other characters that I feel like I'm reaching to say he has mental health struggles but to me it just comes off in vibes. first of all, any kid with divorced parents should be in therapy so I feel there's definitely some struggles there.

I think kuroo is the type that hides his struggles and pretends they aren't happening. he puts a lot of pressure on himself to be the best at everything he does, and so he feels he doesn't have time to deal with the emotions that leave him feeling empty

kenma was someone I immediately felt was autistic. he has so many key factors like an obsession/hyperfocus on his hobbies and trouble socializing (social anxiety).

kenma has some of the strongest evidence toward my beliefs, specifically in this quote: "I'm not good with people, and I don't want to interact with them. and yet, I'm very concerned about what others think of me." like, tell me that doesn't radiate autistic/SAD vibes!!!!

idk what it is, like inadequacies or what but I genuinely believe oikawa has some kind of trauma. like he's definitely carrying something that so heavily effected him that it controls the choices he makes in life

I don't have much evidence that suna has depression, it's just a vibe because of his mannerisms and what he says. I think it's the kind where it's well-managed, but it shows up in physical symptoms like apathy more than anything.

atsumu gives ADHD vibes solely because of like how all over the place he is and how he can't always seem to properly get out what he's trying to say lol

sakusa is one that to me could be seen as "done with your bullshit" but I think he also hates crowds (like me, I mean who doesn't) and struggles socially probably because of anxiety or autism. not sure!

basing daishou off of vibes, too, because if I'm being honest all I've seen in the show is him having hostile relationships or being on-off with them, though its certain I could be reading too much into it, but that's the fun of headcanons.

do you agree with what I wrote? I would love to hear your thoughts!

[ennoshitas-princess]

Cake and Dresses

Dad! Atsumu Miya x Fem! Reader

Warnings: only a lot of fluff, Miya twins insulting each other, Atsumu isn't in the first couple scenes (sorry it will be worth it)

Synopsis: You and Atsumu have a beautiful daughter and it is her birthday and Valentine's Day

Word Count: 873

—————————————————————————

—————————————————————————

You come back home with your cute little daughter after her long and exhausting school day. Today was a very special day. Not only was it Valentine's Day, but it was your sweet daughter’s birthday. Currently you go and pick up the cake her dear Uncle Osamu baked for her. When you saw the pink hearts all over the place. Her name was written in white frosting. The cake was chocolate (your husband’s and daughter’s personal favorite).

“Thank you Osamu! I hope it wasn't too much trouble.” You said holding the heart shaped baked good.

“It's no problem! I love helping ya… but not my dumbass twin brother.” He chuckled.

You were used to the two bickering at each other. At times you found it quite entertaining. Especially since Atsumu proved himself not to be very smart when it came to saying something back. You tried to help him come up with comebacks, but he told you he could do it on his own.

And he was so wrong.

“So Aiko, how was kindergarten today?” Asked her uncle.

“It was great! I got many Valentine's and for my birthday too!” Your little girl held them in a box.

“Well, that's nice. Did ya know yer dad never got Valentine's until he was in his last year of high school?”

“Osamu! That is not true! You know I have been giving him gifts in his locker since junior high!” You told him.

“Well, he didn't know ya had a crush on him until ya wrote that cringy love letter that year.” He teased you.

“Well, I don't regret it one single bit because he helped me make this cutie!” You squished Aiko’s chubby cheeks.

You later on made it home with the help of Osamu carrying that cake, while you were holding all the things your daughter received. When you were picking up the cake, your dear husband was getting the living room ready for Aiko’s birthday party.

“We are back!” You yelled at Atsumu.“Just in time. I was done decorating and getting very bored.” He replied back slouching on the couch.

He looked up to see his beloved wife and daughter. He averted his eyes and saw his twin brother. “Hey y/n, why’d ya invite this dumbass??!?”

“Who are ya calling a dumbass?!?” His brother set the box on the table.

“Yer ugly ass!!”

“I am not dumb or ugly. We basically look the same!!”

“Daddy!!” Your baby girl pounced on her father to give him a nice bear hug.

“Aiko, my sweet baby girl.” He picked her up and kissed her round cheek.

You smiled at the adorable sight of Atsumu hugging Aiko. She had your eyes and had Atsumu’s dark hair (but you know he has his hair dyed blonde). You couldn't help but go over and join. “Don't forget about your wife Tsum Tsum.”

“Oh of course I would never forget about my beloved Valentine since we were teenagers.” Atsumu place your sweet daughter on the ground and pecked your cheek.

“Hey!” Your daughter puffed her cheeks while stomping her tiny foot on the floor.

“Honey, no one forgot about you.” You bent down to her height.

Her toothy grin appeared onto her face again. She ran away to her room for some reason. Usually Aiko stays in the living room on her birthday. (She adores the attention.) She came back with presents in hand.

“Whatcha got there, baby girl?” Asked her father.

“For you!” She stretched the presents to both you and your dear husband.

“Awe, how cute and sweet of you Aiko.” You smiled at her.

“What about me?” Osamu frowned.

“I didn't forget about you Uncle ‘Samu!” She reached into her bookbag for a little box.

You guys opened up your presents to see something the little girl has made for each of you. Atsumu got a bracelet made with beads and a volleyball charm. Osamu got a bracelet too, but with an onigiri charm. You got a necklace made with beads and with a gem charm in the shape of a heart. “Ya did a good job in making them little love.” You told her.She twisted her foot on the ground with a shy smile. “I am glad you like them.”

“Oh! Birthday time!” Shouted Atsumu at the top of his lungs.

After the party, Osamu headed back home. Of course, before leaving he bickered some more. Aiko fell asleep on the couch. You couldn't resist taking a picture of your lovely daughter. Atsumu went to the room to get a special thing for you.

“There you are. Mind helping me in carrying this little cutie?” You asked your beloved husband.

“No, I don't mind. But first, I would love to give ya something.” He said hugging you.

“What is it?”

“Ya have to open it my dear.”

You opened the box to see a beautiful dress that was (favorite color). It was an everyday dress. It had some flowery design on it. “So, do ya like it?” He smiled at you.

“I adore it. But not as much as you!” You hugged him tighter.

“Maybe a date sometime. My dumb brother can take care of our daughter.”

"Absolutely!" Was all you said.

Author's note: hi guys!! I hope you liked this! If you wanna request a one shot of a Haikyuu character please request on the request post!! This is late for Valentine's Day but yeah!!

Click here to request

Click here for my Atsumu Miya x Fem! Reader Fanfic

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ennoshitas-princess

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[astyrial]

the history teacher atsumu miya x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: it's hard having the hot history teacher right next door word count: 1.1k warnings: atsumu is so flirtatious omg masterlist | requests are open

   a bell rings throughout the high school as students shuffle to get all of their items together. as your gaze finds the clock, you realize it's lunch time for most of the junior students. you take in a deep sigh and clasp your hands together in front of you, "don't forget, chapter five and six tonight, make sure to finish the questions. and there are some on the back!"

  you watch as all of your students file out of the room, one of them staying behind. mae, your brightest and most promising student, walks over to you, book in her hand. she always liked staying behind, talking about how you're her favorite teacher. she purses his lips and sighs before finally telling you what plagues her mind. 

  "i need some advice... about guys,” she brings her focus onto you, figuring that no one could overhear her.

  "mmh okay, well i am by far the best person in that department, but what's on your mind?" your eyebrows raise for a second, a calming smile on your lips. 

  mae takes in a deep breath, eyes flickering between you and the door, "someone has been leaving notes in my locker, anonymous ones. they feature poems but i don't know who it is. i just wish i did so i could talk to him."

  "i'm sorry mae, maybe you just have to give it a little more time. if he really likes you, he'll let you know it's him. either through little things that remind you of him or a written confession. i'm sure it'll be fine," you lean against your desk, your own gaze finding the door when you see the figure of your coworker.

  he leans up against the door, right eyebrow raised. his shoulders are wide, a polo shirt just slightly unbuttoned. you look back at your student, finger pointing towards the clock, "you should probably get to lunch, wouldn't want you missing out because of a secret admirer."

  mae nods, scratching the back of her neck before turning around to leave. with a couple of books in hand, it takes her a minute to look up and notice your coworker standing there, she looks back at you, a cheeky smile on her lips. you shrug your shoulders until she leaves, watching as she gives a short goodbye to the school's most interesting history teacher.

  he takes a few steps into the room, shirt ever so slightly small around his biceps. you look over at your computer, eyes trying to hide from his. however, there's something so intriguing about him that you can't help but meet his gaze. him, the history teacher, the one who is in a room next to yours, the one who always finds a way to see you. 

  "ms. l/n... i overheard you aren't a pro when it comes to romance. considering how beautiful you are, i'm very surprised," he reaches his hand out and taps one of the student's desks, gaze not breaking yours.

  you nod, shrugging your shoulders, truly watching him sway into your classroom nearly takes your breath away. the way he can just walk so effortlessly to you, "well mr. miya-"

  "you know you can call me atsumu, i've always told you that," a few pieces of rich brown hair falls down, one hand moving to push it back into place. 

  "i wouldn't think that to be very professional, especially if you call me ms. l/n all the time. besides, i think that miya is a great name," your hands becoming clammy as they push against your desk, heartbeat quickening as he takes a few more steps in your direction. 

  he lets out a hearty laugh but doesn't stop his runway walk towards you. the leather belt he's sporting keeps the shirt tight enough against his stomach that you can almost see his abs. despite you knowing that starting anything with a coworker is an awful idea, you can't help but wonder if anything could happen between the two of you. 

  "well, y/n... how does that sound? you call me atsumu and i call you y/n. and by the way, i love how your breath hitches whenever i say your name," atsumu finally makes it to your desk, resting a hand on your desk, body a mere foot away from you. 

  you bite your top lip while looking away from him, shaking your head slightly. of course your breath hitches as he comes ever so close to you. he's been this way ever since you met him and he's right. you do like him, especially as he tilts his head in such a cocky manner. "i don't know what you're talking about... atsumu."

  a smile stretches across his face at his name coming from your mouth. atsumu then leans a little closer to you, breath just barely brushing across your skin. "right... well, y/n, how would you feel about dinner, saturday? because i know an amazing chef," he brings his free hand to rest on his hip, most likely flexing his arm a little.

  "dinner? mmh you may have to let me think about it," you turn back to look at him, his face inches away from yours, his golden brown eyes flickering between yours. 

  "it seems that you may already have an answer," atsumu's ears perk up a little and his hand reaches for yours, "either that or i'm completely misinterpreting how you look at me. by the way, my eyes are up here, for future reference."

  heat rises to your cheeks as you bite the inside of your cheek, gaze turning to the floor. you sigh, feeling his hand running over yours. "i have no idea what you're talking about. however, i may have already thought it over and would love to join you for dinner," you finally look back up and can't help but take in a sharp breath. 

  atsumu smiles, leaning back again, nodding. he runs his thumb along the back of your hand before grabbing his phone from his pocket. he holds it out to you, not able to keep his eyes from you, "you want to add your number in here?"

  "alright, atsumu, if you insist."

  you begin to type your number into his phone, removing your hand from his. however, neither of you notice it when your student mae has returned to to grab one of her other books, that same knowing smile on her face. she may not be able to recognize the romance within her own life, but she can definitely see how you see the history teacher from next door.