#atsumu x fem!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alicewrotethis · 21 days ago

Text

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞﹒𝐩𝐭 𝟑

ㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒synopsis!! atsumu misses you while hes away, one call couldnt hurt, right? ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚౨ cw!! timeskip! a. miya x artist! oblivious! reader, nsfw, phone sex, use of good girl, sue me ﹒ ◠ note!! final part! but if u want a part 4 or more atsumu content lmk! that banner makes me absolutely feral.. ౨ wc!! 3k ˚ ۪˖𓏲 mood!! series playlist

[part one] [part two] [part four]

The apartment had felt quieter than normal, a stillness settling in that seemed to press against the walls. You sighed as you leaned into the couch, your phone resting in your hand. The sound of the narrators on the TV filled the living room.

He had left early two mornings ago, his departure marked by the sound of his suitcase wheels rolling down the hallway and his usual mix of excitement and nerves barely contained in his voice. The away game was a big deal to Atsumu, he'd spent the entire week leading up to it alternating between trash-talking the competition and pacing the living room as he ran through game strategies in his head.

You'd watched him as he packed, his energy electric as he tossed jerseys and clothes into his bag, muttering to himself about making sure to not forget his lucky socks. His excitement had been infectious then, filling the apartment and masking the thought of how quiet it would feel without him there, but now, with him gone, the absence was sharp and unavoidable.

You couldn't help but think of all the moments he usually filled, his loud singing while he made breakfast, his playful teasing whenever he caught you lost in thought, and the way he had a habit of draping his large body across the couch, leaving you to sit on the floor in front of him, and how you'd talk about everything and nothing until the night blurred into the morning. Two days without any of it, and the apartment already felt like a completely different place.

Your fingers tightened around your phone as you stared at the last text he sent, a picture of his team's pre-game warm-up. He looked so happy, his usual wide grin plastered on his face as he held up a peace sign with Hinata and Bokuto in the background. You smiled faintly, proud of him, but at the same time, you shouldn't shake the growing ache of missing him. His voice, his presence, and all the little ways he made the apartment feel like home.

The arena was alive with the sound of sneakers squeaking against polished floors and the sharp whistle of the referee cutting through the noise. Atsumu wiped the sweat from his brow, gripping a water bottle as he stood with the team during the timeout.

On the surface, he looked every bit the confident setter, but his mind wasn't fully in the game. It's not as if he was playing bad, he just couldn't stop his mind from drifting.

He reached for him phone hidden away in his bag beside the bench and unlocked it to find the last text you'd sent. It was something simple, so you, a casual 'im watching, you'll do great tsum!', but he read it three times already, letting the warmth of your words replace some of the restless energy buzzing in his chest. Atsumu wasn't one to admit things easily, not even to himself, but he felt your absence more than he thought he would.

He hadn't expected it to be this quiet without you. Sure, his teammates were loud and the atmosphere during away games was electric, but it wasn't the same. There was a certain calmness in your presence, even when you weren't doing anything particularly remarkable. Whether it was your clueless remarks when he tried to joke with you, and the way you'd absentmindedly hum as you worked on something. You made the apartment and his world feel alive in a way he didn't think anybody could.

The hotel hallway was quiet, the faint hum of fluorescent lights being the only sound as Atsumu stepped off the elevator, his duffel bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. His footsteps were muffled against the carpet, but inside, everything felt loud, his heartbeat, the rush of thoughts swirling in his head, and the nagging ache in his chest he couldn't quite shake.

The match had been grueling, leaving his body sore and his mind buzzing. Normally, the adrenaline would still be carrying him, the thrill of a victory filling every corner of his being, but as he entered his room, tossing his bag onto the floor, he couldn't help but feel hollow. The cheers from the crowd and celebrations with his teammates felt miles away now, unable to touch the strange emptiness that followed him.

Kicking off his shoes, he collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the stark, unfamiliar ceiling. Atsumu wasn't one to dwell on things, he liked to keep moving, to fill the quiet with noise, jokes, or distractions, but tonight, the silence wrapped around him, heavy and unrelenting. He hated it.

His hand reached for his phone almost instinctively. Opening your chat, he scrolled through the texts from earlier, his lips twitching at the teasing banter and you congratulating him on his win. Even through the screen, your personality came through so clearly, sharp, cute, funny, and effortlessly grounding. But the texts weren't enough. They were just words. He wanted more. He wanted you.

For a second, he hesitated, his thumb hovering over the call button. Would you think it was weird? It was late, and he didn't even have an excuse other than the gnawing need to hear your voice. But before he could second-guess himself, he tapped it, holding the phone to his ear as the line began to ring.

Each ring made his chest tighten, the seconds stretching unbearably. What if you didn't pick up? What if-

"Hello?" Your voice came through, soft but tinged with curiosity, "Tsum? Isn't it late over there?"

Hearing you felt like taking a deep breath after holding it for too long, he closed his eyes, letting the tension ease just slightly.

"Yeah," He said, his voice quieter than usual," I just... wanted to hear your voice,"

There was a pause, one that felt like an eternity, before you laughed lightly. It wasn't the full, unrestrained laugh he loved hearing, but it was enough to make the corners of his mouth lift.

"Well, here it is," You teased gently, "How was the win?"

"Didn't feel the same, s'too quiet here without you," He said softly, his grin forming despite the exhaustion weighing on him.

Your silence this time was heavier, but not uncomfortable, he could almost imagine you sitting in your favorite spot on the balcony, processing his words, maybe fiddling with the hem of your shirt absentmindedly or biting your lip in that way that always seemed to undo him.

"I miss you too," You said finally, and it hit him like a wave. It wasn't dramatic, not even particularly vulnerable, but it was enough.

The words settled between you, like a shared secret neither of you wanted to disturb.

Atsumu let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, running a hand through his hair as a faint chuckle escaped him. But this time, it wasn't the lighthearted sound you were used to, it was softer, lower, as if you reached a part of him no one else ever had.

"Wish I could be there right now," He murmured, his voice dipping into something that made warmth bloom in your chest, "Not just to fill the quiet, but... I dunno, to see you, to really be with you,"

The words hit you harder than you expected, the honesty in them leaving you momentarily speechless. He wasn't teasing or trying to smooth-talk his way out of an awkward moment, it was just Atsumu, bare and unguarded in a way he rarely let himself be.

"You'll be back soon, right, tsum?" You replied, but even to your own ears, the words sounded hollow. There was a tremor in your voice, a longing you couldn't quite hide.

"Not soon enough," He shot back, the grin audible in his voice now, though there was a tension underneath it, "You've got no idea how much I-"

He cut himself off, the words catching in his throat. A beat of silence passed, his breathing uneven as he tried to find the courage to finish.

"Tsum?" You asked softly, your voice threading through the phone like a lifeline. It wasn't teasing, not this time, it was laced with something gentler, something that made his pulse hammer in his chest.

His name on your lips was enough to undo him. He exhaled sharply, and when he spoke, his voice was lower, rougher like he was balancing on the edge of restraint, "Ya don't make it easy for me, y'know," He murmured, his words drawn out, heavy with something unsaid.

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, his tone rich with a tension you couldn't ignore. There was no playful edge to it now, just raw honesty, dipped in a yearning that made your breath hitch.

"Every time I hear your voice," He continued, his voice rasping like he was barely holding himself together, "Its like... it's like you're right here, and I cant- I cant stop thinkin' about what it'd be like if ya were. If I could see you, touch you, hear you laugh 'cause yer too nervous to do anything else."

Atsumu's words were heavy, unfiltered, dripping with a longing that practically reached through the phone. You could hear the way his breathing shifted, uneven and shallow like he was struggling against the weight of what he was feeling. And then, a low, guttural groan slipped past his lips, quiet but undeniably raw, sending a wave of heat through you.

"God," He groaned out, "You've got no idea what yer doin' to me, do ya? I can't even think straight when it's you, the way ya talk, the way ya say my name like it's the only thing that matters..." His words trailed off into a shaky exhale as he palmed himself through his shorts.

You felt your face grow hot, your heart pounding so hard it was a wonder he couldn't hear it through the phone. You felt your core pool in your shorts as you listened to his shaky breathing.

"Tsum..." You whispered, your voice soft but laced with an edge of vulnerability you couldn't hide.

"Say it again," He interrupted, his tone almost desperate now, "Say my name,"

The way he said it sent another shiver through you, his voice dipping into something deeper, something that wrapped around you like a vice. And before you could stop yourself, you obeyed, his name falling from your lips in a way that left him completely undone.

"Shit," He let out a breathy moan, his breath ragged, "Im losin' it over here, I don't even care, just- just keep talkin' okay? Dont stop, needa' hear ya,"

His words were a plea, his tone dripping with an unrestrained intensity that left you dizzy. Every syllable seemed to pull you in further.

Atsumu couldn't handle the way his dick throbbed against his shorts, he craved and yearned for the sweet release, the intensity of his need, or his desire to hear you and feel you all too much, all past exhaustion seemingly slipping away with the shorts now wrapped around his thighs.

"Can never get enough of ya," The confession hung in the air like a promise.

You felt your fingers subconsciously trail down your body with soft whimpers as you listened to Atsumu, your noises only pushing him further.

"Ya gonna touch yerself? Wanna hear ya moanin' my name, need it s'bad," He said, his voice desperate as he began slowly stroking himself to the sound of your whimpers. He imagined how much better they'd sound if he was there, touching you, replacing the fingers that were now sliding down your puffy slit.

His words echoed in your mind, sending another rush of warmth through your veins, it made your heart race and your walls clench around nothing.

You closed your eyes, imagining how he looked with his big hands wrapped around his dick, imagining the blush that would spread across his face, how his skin would feel against your own.

"Bet ya look so cute right now, huh?" He let out, the strokes on his cock were steady as he bucked his hips up into his hand, letting the pleasure take over him in shuddering groans.

Your fingers were coated in your own wetness, you couldn't muster up anything, too nervous to form a sentence so you let your sounds do the talking for you. You slid a finger into your aching pussy, a soft moan leaving your lips at the feeling.

Atsumu smirked as he imagined the sight, "Just like that, fuck, ya sound so pretty, say my name," Atsumu mewled through gritted teeth, trying his best to hold onto his composure as his biceps trembled, pumping his cock sloppily, precum leaking from his tip and into his stroking hands.

"Tsum," You said in a low, drawn-out moan, the weight of his words spurring you on, leading you to insert another finger, you were glad he couldn't see the deep red that painted your cheeks.

"Hah, I bet you'd take me so well, wanna show ya how much I miss ya," He panted, feeling the all too familiar feeling of his climax swirling in his chest.

You slid your fingers in and out at a stable pace, the pleasure creeping up your spine as you arched your back, your clit rubbing against the flat of your palm forcing soft whimpers of need.

"Feels so good," You babbled, placing the phone down next to you on speaker so you could use your now free hand to rub circles on your clit. Your thighs trembled and your hips jerked up.

Atsumu's strokes became sloppy and messy as he neared the edge, "Are ya close? W-Want ya to cum with me," His voice wavered, his eyes now closed, fully concentrating on the sounds that were emitting from your mouth.

You felt your orgasm seeping into your core, the shake of your legs, the arch of your back, your mind was running wild.

"Yes, fuck, tsum, want you so bad," You mewled, the sound of your fingers sliding in and out of you filling the room.

The sound of your pussy drove Atsumu crazy, "Cum, baby, cum for me, yer such a good girl,"

His words were enough to make you spill over the edge, your orgasm hit you hard, and you couldn't contain the loud moan that erupted from your throat as your thighs snapped shut, your eyes rolling back in pure bliss.

Atsumu's climax followed soon after, being pushed by the sounds of your orgasm and the chanting of his name over and over. Ropes of white painted his hand and his jersey as groans of pure euphoria filled his hotel room, his hips jutting up into his fist to ride out his high with a shuddering groan.

The silence that followed was thick, hanging heavily between you. You both knew something had shifted, but neither of you seemed ready to acknowledge it. Atsumu was the first to break the quiet, his voice softer than it had been before, tinged with uncertainty.

"Uh, sorry, I-" He trailed off, the words clearly not coming out the way he'd intended. You could hear the tension in his tone and the way he was trying to find the right thing to say, but the weight of everything that had just passed was making it hard.

Another long pause stretched between you. It wasn't uncomfortable exactly, but it wasn't easy either. You could feel your heart beating a little faster than usual, your mind racing with thoughts. What does this mean? Where do we go from here?

"It's okay," You replied softly.

Atsumu let out a shaky breath, "You're sure its okay? 'Cause I... I didn't mean to make things weird,"

It was endearing, the way he still seemed unsure despite how confident he usually was. That vulnerability made the whole situation feel different, somehow. It was like both of you had just crossed a line that neither of you were prepared for, and now you were both trying to figure out what the next step was.

Atsumu took off his jersey and stared into the phone screen at your contact name, waiting for your next response.

"Yeah," You said, finally, your voice quiet, "It's just... a lot. I didn't expect... this," You weren't sure how else to put it, but he seemed to understand, his next words coming out more slowly, more carefully.

"I get it, I didnt either, guess I'm just... not great with this kind of thing, but I don't wanna make you uncomfortable," He admitted, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Your chest tightened a little at his words, and you found yourself smiling despite the awkwardness, "I'm not uncomfortable, just... processing,"

He let out a small laugh, a nervous one, "Yeah, me too, this is weird, huh?"

You both laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. It wasn't perfect, but it was something. You weren't sure where this would lead, or if it should lead anywhere, but for now, the air between you had shifted, and there was something strangely comforting about knowing you weren't the only one feeling a little lost in all of this.

"I guess we'll figure it out huh?" You said, your voice was a little more steady now, as you both tried to make sense of the unexpected bond that had formed between you.

Atsumu's response was quieter. but there was a gentleness there, "Yeah... we will."

navigation !

[part one]

[part two]

[part four]

117 notes · View notes

kairismess · 11 months ago

Note

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!

741 notes · View notes

kozumesphone · 3 months ago

Text

✮⋆˙ 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 !

87 notes · View notes

pparadiselost · 2 years ago

Text

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?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hinata shoyo #miya atsumu #sakusa kiyoomi #bokuto kotaro #x reader #fem reader #my writing

1K notes · View notes

1zukuz · 2 years ago

Text

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

833 notes · View notes

slut4msby · 1 year ago

Text

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.

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

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.

225 notes · View notes

moonswolfie · 5 months ago

Text

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

98 notes · View notes

mrshigurumasshop · 2 years ago

Text

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!”

●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘● ●∘◦❀◦∘●

413 notes · View notes

paperultra · 10 months ago

Text

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.

—

#haikyuu #hq #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya atsumu #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader x miya osamu #haikyuu fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #soulmate au #yeah i got carried away LOL #the miya twins giving themselves terrible dye jobs lives rent free in my head #atsumu's especially. i KNOW they screwed up with his #that color looks way too close to a bleach gone wrong on black hair and he just made it his brand for the rest of high school #this is spiraling i am spiraling #kobayashi i'll miss you i loved thinking you up #the five nonsenses

123 notes · View notes

alicewrotethis · 18 days ago

Text

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞﹒𝐩𝐭 𝟒

ㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒synopsis!! atsumu comes back home, wondering how the previous events will affect your friendship ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚౨ cw!! timeskip! a. miya x artist! oblivious! reader, nsfw, fluff, plot ﹒ ◠ note!! someone asked for a part 4 so here u go!! finally part! love this ending sm more ౨ wc!! 3.8k ˚ ۪˖𓏲 mood!! series playlist

[part one] [part two] [part three]

The rumble of the train beneath him was steady, almost soothing, but Atsumu's mind was anything but calm. He shifted in his seat, his knee bouncing slightly as he stared out the window. The scenery blurred past him, but it barely registered. His thoughts were miles away, back to you, to the way your voice had wrapped around him the other night, soft and vulnerable in a way he'd never forget.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his golden hair as he slouched against the seat. Thoughts were racing in his mind. What if it's weird now? What if he regrets it? What if you regret it? No matter how hard he tried to shake the thoughts away they always creeped back into his mind. Sure, you'd both laughed it off a little after, but there was no denying that something between you had shifted.

But alongside the nervousness was an undeniable excitement that bubbled up every time he thought about seeing you again. He hadn't realized just how much he missed you until the distance made it impossible to ignore. The little things like your laugh, the way you'd nudge him when he was being too obnoxious, the way your presence filled his core with warmth had left a gaping hole in his routine.

He gripped the handle of his luggage as the train slowed at another stop, his foot tapping against the floor. His heart was beating a little faster now, the closer he got to home. You miss him too. You said so. That thought was enough to make him grin widely, though it didn't entirely ease the tension that coiled in his chest.

The train pulled to his stop, and he stood quickly, shouldering his bag as he stepped onto the platform. The cool evening air hit him, and he took a steadying breath while searching for his Uber.

The cool evening air swirled around you as you stood by the living room window, glancing outside though you knew he wasn't anywhere near yet. Your fingers tapped idly on the windowsill, nervous energy thrumming through you, but it wasn't anxiety. It was anticipation, pure and electric, couring through every inch of you.

Atsumu was coming home.

You tried to keep busy earlier in the day, finishing paintings and cleaning your brushes. Anything to stop yourself from staring at the clock, counting down the hours. But as the sun dipped lower your resolve broke. The apartment didn't feel quite right without him. too quiet, too empty.

Eventually, you grabbed your easel and paints, dragging them out onto the balcony. The cool breeze brushed against your skin, and the distant hum of the city provided a comforting backdrop as you set up your workspace. The sky had deepened into shades of orange and pink, fading into twilight as you started to work.

You didn't have a plan for what you were painting, not really. Your hands moved instinctively, brushing streaks of color across the canvas in a rhythm that matched the swirling of emotions inside you. The soft glow of the streetlights below and the stars beginning to peek through above became your inspiration, a reflection of the restless energy you felt.

Hours passed without you realizing, the world outside fading as you lost yourself in the strokes of your brush. Your eyelids grew heaving with every passing minute, but you were determined to keep going, to stay awake and busy until he came home.

But your body had other plans. Somewhere between blending the blues of the night sky and detailing faint stars you sat your brush down and leaned back against the chair. The breeze was cool and soothing, and the rhythmic sounds of the city below felt like a lullaby. Before you knew it, your head tipped to the side, your eyes fluttered shut, and the exhaustion of the day overtook you.

The crisp night air nipped at you as you slept, peaceful and unaware of the soft hum of a car engine pulling up outside the building.

Atsumu stepped out of the Uber, his bag slung over his shoulder, and glanced up at the apartment. A single light glowed faintly, and he smiled to himself, already imagining you waiting for him inside.

Atsumu gripped the handle of his luggage as he entered the building, his footsteps echoing faintly in the stairwell. His heart was pounding, not from exrtion, but from the bubbling anticipation of seeing you again. Each step brought him closer to the apartment, to you, and the nervous excitement tangled in his chest grew stronger.

He paused at the door, fishing out his key. For a moment, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle. What if things were different now? What if he'd crossed a line he couldn't uncross? He took a steadying breath, shaking the thoughts away. You missed him, he knew that much, and he wasn't going to let his own doubts ruin this moment.

The door creaked softly as he pushed it open. The apartment was dim, the faint glow of a lamp in the living room casting long shadows across the walls. He stepped inside quietly, leaving his luggage near the door and kicking off his shoes.

"Hey," He called out softly, his voice low as if not wanting to disturb the stillness. When there was no reply, he frowned slightly, glancing around. The living room was empty and the kitchen was dark. His brows furrowed. Were you asleep already?

As he moved closer to the balcony, he noticed the curtains were flowing slightly with the wind. His pulse quickened as he stepped through the curtains, and the sight that greeted him stole the breath from his lungs.

You were curled up in the chair, your head resting against the back, your face peaceful in sleep. The faint glow of the city lights painted your features in soft hues, and Atsumu's chest ached at the sight. In front of you, a finished painting rested on the easel, a swirling night sky dotted with faint stars, vibrant and alive, much like the emotions you stirred in him.

The cool night breeze brushed past him as he crouched beside you, his fingers hesitating before gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. You stirred slightly but didn't wake, your breathing steady and soft.

"Ya really worked yerself tired, huh?" He murmured under his breath, a small fond smile tugging at his lips.

Carefully, he slid one arm under your legs and the other behind your back, lifting you with practiced ease. The chair creaked softly as he shifted, and for a moment, you stirred, your head leaning against his chest.

"Shh," He whispered, his voice low and soothing, "I've got ya,"

He carried you inside, the warmth of your body pressed against him making his heart race. As he reached your bedroom door, he nudged it open with his foot, the dim light from the hallway spilling into the cozy space. Just as he stepped toward the bed, your eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep.

"Tsum?" Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and the way you said his name made his heart ache with longing.

"Yeah, it's me," He said, his voice just as gentle, "Didn't mean to wake ya, just takin' ya to bed, yer gonna catch a cold sleepin' out there,"

A sleepy smile spread across your face as your eyes focused on him, your arms lazily wrapping around his neck as he laid you on the bed, "You're home," You murmured as if reassuring yourself he was real.

"I'm home," He confirmed, his voice thick with emotion.

Before he could say anything else, you leaned up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. It was tender and warm, filled with a quiet affection that left him completely undone.

Atsumu's breath hitched the moment your lips met his, the soft kiss catching him off guard in the best possible way. His heart felt like it skipped a beat before racing to catch up, pounding so fiercely in his chest that he was sure you could hear.

The warmth of your touch seeped into him, erasing the cold distance he'd felt during his time away. For a split second, his mind raced with questions, was this real? Did you mean it? But they all melted away as quickly as they'd come.

When his initial shock faded, he couldn't stop himself from leaning into you, his grip on you tightening instinctively. You felt so fragile and yet so solid in his arms, and the tenderness in the kiss left him utterly unraveled.

This is what he'd been missing. The thought hit him hard, and he could feel the tension from the past few days, the uncertainty, the nerves, all dissolving in that one moment.

His chest ached with the weight of emotions he couldn't fully name, relief, gratitude, longing, and something else, something bigger and harder to contain. The way you kissed him wasn't rushed of hesitant; it was soft, sure, and filled with a quiet kind of affection that hit him deeper than he expected.

When you pulled back, his lips tingled, and his whole body felt like it was buzzing. He couldn't take his eyes off you, even as your eyelids drooped with sleep again. You'd kissed him. You'd chosen to kiss him.

A faint, almost dazed smile spread across his face as he cradled you closer, his thumb brushing lightly against your side.

You smiled faintly, the corners of your lips curling in a way that left him utterly breathless, "Missed you," You murmured, your voice soft and raw, like a secret just for him.

His grip on you tightened ever so slightly, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your side, "You don't even know," He muttered, his voice a low rasp, "Missed you more than I even knew I could,"

The room seemed to shrink around you, the space between your bodies almost nonexistent now. He could feel the heat of your breath against his skin, the faint scent of your shampoo teasing his senses. It was intoxication, and every small movement from you sent a ripple through his that he couldn't control.

His hand moved without thought, fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch featherlight as if he was afraid you might disappear. Your skin was warm under his palm, grounding him in a way he didn't expect. You leaned into his touch, your eyes soft and unreadable, and that tiny movement sent a jolt through his entire body.

"Ya drive me crazy, y'know that?" He whispered, his voice barely audible, as if saying it louder might break the moment. His thumb grazed your lower lip, and his eyes followed the motion, lingering there like he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to.

You didnt reply with words, instead, your hand found his, your fingers tangling together as if to anchor him in place. The gesture was simple, yet it sent a rush of warmth through him, his heart thundering in his chest.

"Say somethin'," He pleaded softly, his forehead resting against yours now, "Anythin', just don't leave me hangin' like this,"

Your lips curved into a small smile, your voice still heavy with sleep but clear enough to make his pulse race, "I'm not going anywhere, Tsum,"

The weight of your words settled over him, pulling him further into you. His lips brushed against your temple, lingering there as if trying to commit the moment to memory. Whatever distance had been between you before had dissolved, leaving nothing but the warmth of your body against his.

"Yer voice is so pretty, y'know that?" He breathed out lowly, his voice was deep and laced with something unfamiliar.

His hips jolted against your clothed pussy, the feeling of his erection sending tingles and waves of warmth straight to your soft cheeks. Something low and consuming began to build, an ache you couldn't name but couldn't ignore.

"Tell me what you need," He breathed out, lips ghosting over yours with a small grin. The soft glow of the city pouring in from your window cast an illuminating light across his feature, highlighting the intensity of his eyes as he stared longingly at you.

Your lips were slightly parted, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered, familiar and comforting as you tried to muster up a reply but the only words you could think of at the moment were, "You,"

Your pulse raced as his hands trailed down your body, each touch slow and deliberate, igniting something deeper. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, then deepened as his hand wandered lower and lower, leaving your skin feeling hot below him.

Your hips had instinctively bucked up into him, grinding into his erection, earning a low groan from Atsumu at the feeling, your thoughts were a jumble of anticipation and nervousness.

"Is this okay?" He asked as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your shorts and panties.

You nodded your head needily, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Atsumu backed away to slip your clothes off, the cold air replacing his warmth as he did so. Once you were fully exposed to him he spread your legs to either side of his hips, taking in the view of you below him, your soft skin being illuminated by the moonlit window.

"Yer so perfect..." He whispered under his breath with a smile, his fingers taking their place on your clit, using his other hand to hold the underside of your thigh, "I'll stop if ya want me to,"

Your moan was barely more than a whisper, trembling and raw, as though you couldn't contain it.

"God, the way ya sound," He murmured, his voice rough with need as your moans grew softer and more desperate.

The thumb on your clit circled at a steady pace, sending waves of pleasure to your core.

"Don't, fuck, stop," You moaned out, your back moving into a slight arch from the overwhelming sense of newfound pleasure. "Need more, need you,"

Your words hung in the air as Atsumu processed them, his thumb left your clit to unzip his pants, his breathing becoming erratic as his cock sprung free from his boxers, landing on top of your stomach. Using your elbows to prop yourself up you saw the length of him, your eyes widened at the thought.

"I'll be gentle," He breathed out, one of his hands resting on your thigh while the other pumped his length. His head fell back in pleasure, and he quickly looked back towards you with a smirk.

"Are you ready?" He asked, sliding his dick up and down your slit, coating his tip in your wetness.

You nodded shyly, biting your lip as you watched his actions, your flush never leaving your cheeks.

Atsumu sunk his tip into your cunt, stretching your walls as a low, throaty moan escaped him, pulled from somewhere deep.

Your head tipped back, lips parted as a soft sound left your mouth, the sound was like music to his ears. Your gasps and moans became more drawn out and unrestrained as he sunk deeper, the stretch turning from pain to pleasure slowly.

"You like it?" He murmured, his voice quiet and rough as your quiet plea was all the confirmation he needed.

You could feel all of him inside you, your sounds turned to pants as he slowed his movement once he bottomed out, giving you time to adjust to his size and shape. You didn't need long, in fact, it hadn't even been a minute before you were grinding your hips against him, his tip hitting your soft spot with every movement, and the moan that slipped past his lips wasn't just about pleasure, it was a testament to how much he'd missed you, how much he needed this.

His hands snaked their way to your hips, gripping you gently as he pulled out, your walls aching for him before he slammed back into you, forcing a sharp shriek to slip past your lips.

"Tsum!," You gasped out as he repeated his action, craving more of the sounds you were making.

"Sorry, mm, you just sound so, fuck, so good," His voice dipped into a low groan, the sound vibrating through his chest like he was barely holding it together, as if he was clinging to the moment, "Wanna feel you cum 'round my cock, wanna hear ya,

His words were enough to make your body tense, every nerve alight as the pressure built within you, a wave of warmth spreading throughout your limbs as you welcomed the feeling, a deep shuddering feeling that made your legs shake around his hips as you chanted his name like a prayer, your breath hitching as the pleasure seemed to flood your senses, leaving you dizzy and breathless.

Atsumu felt your walls clench around him repeatedly, the feeling making his breath hitch, his thrusts becoming more erratic and sloppy as he chased his own high, your legs pulled him further into you, his tip practically kissing your cervix, the sensation sending a shudder down his body.

"Let me cum in ya, please," He pleaded desperately, "Wanna fill ya up so good 'nd so full,"

Your eyelids felt heavy as you watched his cock thrust in and out of you sloppily, the base of his length being coated in a thick white substance. "Tsum, I want you to,"

"Missed ya so much, needed ya so bad, mm, I can't- you're so- fuck-," He felt the rhythmic pause of his body as it surged, each wave of pleasure hitting him in quick, sharp bursts as a low groan escaped him, his body trembled and he leaned forward, his arms caging you to hold himself up as he grinded lightly into you, pushing his cum more into you as your walls flooded with white and warm liquid.

The air in the room hung heavy with warmth and quiet intimacy. Atsumu rested his forehead against yours, his damp hair sticking to his skin as he struggled to steady his breathing. The rise and fall of his chest matched yours, and the shared rhythm was a quiet reminder of the closeness you both had just experienced.

His arms, still caging your frame, trembled slightly, a mix of exhaustion and lingering adrenaline coursing through him. He opened his eyes slowly, his gaze meeting yours in the soft, dim light. There was something unspoken there, an overwhelming depth of emotion that he wasn't entirely sure how to put into words.

"You okay?" He finally asked, his voice low and husky, but filled with concern. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek as though grounding himself in the moment.

You nodded, a soft, dazed smile tugging at your lips, "Yeah, I'm okay, more than okay," Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried a sincerity that made his heart clench.

Atsumu let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, a quiet laugh escaping him as relief washed over his features, "Good," He murmured, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek, his gaze roamed your face, as if committing every detail to memory, the curve of your lips, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him, the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed.

"Yer amazin', y'know that?" He said, his voice tinged with wonder, there was no teasing in his tone, just quiet, genuine admiration.

Your cheeks warmed, and you ducked your head slightly, a shy laugh bubbling up, "You don't have to say that, Tsum,"

"I mean it," He insisted, his hand sliding down to cradle the back of your neck, keeping you close, "I don't think I've ever felt this way before 'bout anyone," His eyes held yours, unguarded and vulnerable in a way that made your chest tighten.

The weight of his words settled between you, heavy but not unwelcome, "You make me feel safe," You admitted softly, the words spilling out before you could stop them, "Like I can just be myself around you,"

His lips twitched into a lopsided smile, his heart swelling at your confession, "Good," He said, his voice a little rougher this time, "Cause I don't want ya to ever feel like ya gotta be anyone else,"

For a moment, the two of you simply stayed like that, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the moment, the faint glow of the city lights seeped in through the window, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. Atsumu shifted slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"Lets get ya cleaned up," He said softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that sent warmth blooming in your chest, before you could protest or even process his words, Atsumu shifted, his strong arms sliding under your knees and around your back.

"Tsum, I can walk," You mumbled, your cheeks heating as he lifted you effortlessly.

He shot you a grin, playful but warm, "Nah, not takin' any chances, besides," He added, his gaze softening as you looked at you, "Lemme take care of ya, yeah?"

The sincerity in his tone silenced any further protests, and you relaxed against his chest, your arms looping around his neck. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear was grounding, a gentle reminder of how much he cared.

When he reached the doorway, he paused for a moment, his smile softening as he looked down at you, "By the way," He said, his tone teaing yet affectionate, "We're hangin' that painting up in the living room, yeah? I don't care where, but it's gonna be front and center,"

You blinked in surprise, a little taken aback by how serious he sounded about it, "You like it that much?" You asked softly, the warmth in your chest spreading further.

His grin widened as he sat you on the counter, shifting so he was standing between your legs, "I love it," He replied with a quiet sincerity, his hand brushing a lock of hair from your face, "Every time I see it, it'll remind me of you, of... this," He glanced away for a moment, a rare vulnerability in his eyes, before he looked back to you, that familiar playful gleam returning.

You chuckled, a light sound that made his heart flutter, before you nodded softly, "Alright, we'll hang it up," You agreed, your voice warm.

Atsumu leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips with a smile, "Perfect," His hand lingered on your side, grounding you both in this quiet moment. The world outside felt distant as if it didn't matter at all right now, with him close, holding you, "I'm glad to be home,"

You smiled, your heart full, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw as you whispered back, "I'm glad you're home too,"

navigation ! i cant reply to comments :(

[part one] [part two] [part three]

108 notes · View notes