#atsumu x reader

[killpy]

"atsumu," you whisper hiss, crossing your arms and glaring at the back of his head from the bathroom door, "what the hell are you doing?"

he freezes, almost comically so and turns around. a bottle of bleach is raised in his right, ungloved nonetheless, hand and he gives you a sheepish grin.

"hey pretty, what are ya doing up so late?"

you squint hard, pursing your lips.

"what are you doing up so late?"

he pouts and sets the bleach down with a whine.

"my roots were showin'! i had to fix it."

"it is 3am, miya. it is 3am and you are clanging around in my bathroom, leaving me in bed all cold and alone."

as if to prove your point, you shiver slightly, flimsy pajama shorts and his shirt doing little to warm you.

"i hate when you call me that."

you sigh and yawn, he's giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes and as pissed as you are about being woken up, you cant help but soften a little bit.

"hand me the bleach you dummy, you missed a bunch of spots."

atsumu smiles widely and hands you the bottle, you snap on the disgarded pair of gloves on the counter and get to work.

"i love ya," he mumbles, kissing your forehead as he crouches down, letting you massage the bleach into his hair.

"love you too... even though you wake me up at ungodly hours of the morning for vanity reasons."

[alpali]

Atsumu talks big and a lot.

Acts all cocky and prideful. And hell it’s infuriating because he can back up everything he says.

But the moment you’re on your knees in front of him, sucking him so good.

He’s crying.

The pro setter of the Black Jackals, the heart throb, all whiny and crumbling the minute your lips meet the tip of his cock.

“I told ya s-stop teasin’ me.” He huffs.

Most think he’d be the one to dominate you and sometimes he does. But not when he’s in this position. His brain is complete mush and he’s panting like a dog. The moment he even tries to buck his hips you’re pulling off of him.

“Baby please! ‘M sorry, I’ll stop.” He whines desperately. He acts like a toddler throwing a tantrum all because you’re not letting him finish just yet.

“Will you ‘sumu?” He nods his head frantically.

“Promise!” He practically yells.

So you oblige, wrapping your small hand on his thick cock, licking the vein that goes straight to his tip. He draws out a breathy moan that almost sounds like a sigh of relief. His lip is pulled between his teeth, his eyes already welling up with tears.

“Love ya s’much.” He whimpers, his hands gently raking through your hair.

His head is thrown back when you take him in your warm mouth all the way until he hits the back of your throat. Yet right when he’s so close to seeing white, your mouth is gone and your hand is the only thing left.

And he cries.

His chest heaves as the tears fall down his cheeks. He’s babbling nonsense at this point, the only thing spurring through his body is the need to cum.

“Why!” He drawls out, thick fat tears falling as he hiccups. You grin at his reaction, his noises.

“You want it ‘Samu?”

“Yes—yes. I’ll do anythin!” His breathes are erratic, it’s starting to hurt and you could tell by just how red his tip is.

Yet instead of giving in just yet, you deliver a small kitten lick right on his slit. And just like that, thick ropes of cum are shooting out, as he moans and sobs. His abs tightening as he quite literally spasms.

You pout at the fact, you wanted him to last a little longer. Once he finally stops, his body slumps against the couch, utterly breathless and heaving. His eyes are lidded on his tear stricken face.

You, agonizingly slow, clean up the mess he’s made, making sure not to waste a drop. He twitches when your mouth reaches his crotch, trying to move away from you.

“N—No more. ‘S too much.” He sounds so broken, voice so raspy yet squeaky at the same time. You smile at him softly.

“I’m done dummy.”

You lightly slip on his boxers and he’s practically pouncing on you with the little energy he could muster up, his head falling on your lap.

“Yer fuckin crazy.” He huffs, still not fully recovered from his life altering orgasm. You giggle as you wipe the remnants of his tears.

“And you’re a crybaby.”

[sukumna]

┌─ .✦ DOES INARIZAKI PREFER BRATS OR GOOD GIRLS?

best haikyuu team??? best haikyuu team 🙂‍↕️.

— OSAMU MIYA, loves a sweet, obedient good girl who listens, cooks with him, and blushes when praised. melts when you say “yes sir,” or follow instructions without hesitation. he loves to spoil you with soft touches and gentle dominance, but he’s firm when needed. the better you are, the more rewards you get. he makes you feel like his everything. “there ya go, sweetheart. knew you could listen.”

— SUNA RINTAROU, a quiet brat. the subtle eye rolls, smirks, and passive disobedience, he finds brats entertaining. the type to not react right away, but he’s definitely keeping score. you’ll pay for it later, you always do. he stores every little challenge away like ammo. later, when you least expect it, he’ll flip the switch and make you pay for every eye-roll. quiet, cold payback. “you done?”

— MIYA ATSUMU, a brat. only because he thrives off the chase. he loves the attitude, the teasing, the fight for control. the more you sass, the more he smirks. he’ll tease, edge, deny—make you earn your pleasure. The more you pout, the more he grins. loves turning you into a moaning mess. “oh? that mouth’s real loud for someone who’s gonna be beggin’ in five minutes.”

— KITA SHINSUKE, the most respectful, sweet good girl. he does not entertain brats. he’s calm, composed, and very traditional. he wants someone respectful, disciplined, and eager to serve—not challenge him. he’s all about structure. loves a girl who kneels without being told, keeps her eyes down, and takes his guidance seriously. his control is quiet but absolute—and he’s so soft when you obey. “If you can’t behave, you don’t deserve my hands on you.”

— ARAN OJIRO, a brat with a lot of sass. he’s chill. real laid-back. but a little attitude? he loves that. It makes things interesting. he’ll match your energy—laugh with you, banter—but the moment it crosses a line, his voice drops. his hand tightens. that grip turns punishing. he makes brats feel small, but safe. wrecked, but cherished. “you keep talkin’ like that, baby, and I’m gonna have to remind you who you belong to.”

[dearru]

atsumu miya who has the biggest crush on you and makes a private story with ONLY you on it so he can post thirst traps to get ur attention

[rosierin]

when the world isn't kind (at least they are) | atsumu, osamu, suna

synopsis; (y/n)'s day has been a string of minor disasters. she’s cold, wet, and one comment away from crying. lucky for her, she lives with three people who know just how to fix a bad day.

a/n; thanks anon for the request!! i enjoyed writing this ☺️

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

She hadn’t woken up in a bad mood.

In fact, she’d actually felt kind of hopeful. The sky had been soft and grey, the air cool enough to wear a sweater, and she’d hummed her way through brushing her teeth, already thinking about the green tea and toast she’d have before work.

But the kitchen... had other plans.

No green tea. No jam. Just an almost-empty jar that looked like someone had scraped it clean and then smugly put the lid back on. She stood there for a moment, toast in hand, chewing on dry disappointment and reminding herself it wasn’t a big deal. Minor inconvenience. Not the end of the world.

Then she missed her bus. Not by a lot—just enough to watch it glide past her like a cruel joke, her half-eaten toast still in hand. She stared after it, mouth full, heart already starting to sink. The next bus was late. The air was muggy. Her tote bag strap kept slipping off her shoulder.

By the time she got to work, the café was already drowning in orders. They were short-staffed, the espresso machine was being temperamental, and one of the to-go lids kept popping off no matter how hard she pressed it down. A customer complained that her “vibe” was off. Another one yelled at her because they ordered almond milk and somehow got oat. She burned her hand. Her manager raised an eyebrow like it was her fault the universe was visibly against her.

Still, she kept it in. Smiled when she had to. Made it through the day on muscle memory and caffeine and one lone protein bar she found at the bottom of her bag—probably the one Suna gave her earlier that week. At least it was her favourite flavour. Small mercy, she supposed.

When her shift finally ended, she didn’t even clock the clouds until she was pushing the café door open. The bell above her jingled. The air smelled damp.

She stepped outside—and sighed. A deep, resentful, resigned, and exhausted sigh.

Rain.

Not the soft, misty kind—the drizzly kind she could potentially work with. No. It had to be the cold, needly, drench-you-in-seconds kind.

Her eyes widened slightly, lips parting.

And of course. Of course.

Today of all days, she hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella.

Because why would she? The morning had been grey, not stormy. And she was tired. And her brain was full of everything except weather.

So she just stood there for a second. Let it hit her. Let the water soak into her sleeves, her shoes, her skin.

Then she walked. Head down. Shoulders hunched. Rain dripping from her hair and one minor inconvenience away from a full-blown breakdown.

By the time she pushed open the front door of the apartment, all she wanted was a bath. Maybe a hot chocolate—if they even HAD any—and then bed. No boys. No banter. No dinner table nonsense. Just steam, silence, and sleep.

The apartment was warm, dimly lit and quiet. It smelled faintly of something Osamu had probably cooked earlier, something homely and rich. Her keys clinked into the bowl by the door as she slipped off her shoes with a sigh, water squelching in her socks.

From the living room, she heard the low murmur of the TV. Suna’s armchair creaked slightly, and Osamu’s spoon tapped against a bowl. Neither of them called out to her, but she felt the shift in energy—the subtle way the room quieted at the sound of the door, like they had somehow already picked up on her bad vibes.

“Hey,” Osamu said, voice low and even. Gentle, but not pitiful.

Suna’s eyes flicked toward her, taking in her drenched clothes and the unmistakable aura of someone on the brink. “You okay?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

She nodded once, already moving toward the stairs. “Just gonna shower.”

Neither of them stopped her. No jokes, no teasing. Just a quiet “Alright,” from Osamu and the return of the TV hum as she trudged past them.

But then—

From the kitchen came him.

Mister Tactless himself.

Atsumu, barefoot and fresh from a snack raid, rounded the corner with a slice of cold pizza in his hand and a mouthful of something stupid to say.

He barely looked at her before the laugh slipped out.

“Shit—ya look like a drowned rat.”

It wasn’t cruel. Just thoughtless. Reflexive. The kind of teasing that normally earned him a shove or an eye-roll.

But tonight it landed differently.

Her breath caught in her chest, like something inside her clenched all at once and just... snapped. She didn’t even say anything. Just… stood there, dripping on the hardwood floor, lip trembling before she could stop it.

Atsumu blinked. The smile slid off his face.

“Wait—hey, I didn’t—”

Her hands came up to her face, and then it happened. The kind of crying that didn’t make a sound at first—just shaking shoulders and a sharp inhale, like her body was trying to hold it in but failing.

Osamu stood up, face hardening as he shot Atsumu a look. Suna didn’t say anything, just dragged his chair in a slow pivot to glance at the scene.

Atsumu was frozen. Like someone had unplugged his brain. Even the pizza seemed to droop slightly in his hand.

“Shit, okay—c’mere.”

He set his food down and crossed the room fast, arms hesitating for a half second before he wrapped them around her, warm and solid and stupidly gentle for someone who’d just called her a wet rodent.

“'M sorry, ’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, rocking her a little like that might help. His voice was quiet now, words pressed into her hair. “'M sorry sweetheart. I thought you’d joke back. I didn’t know, I swear."

She shook her head against his chest, her fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt.

“No, it’s not you,” she mumbled, voice watery. “I just… I’ve had a really shitty day.”

She didn’t pull away right away. Just stayed there, tucked into him like she was trying to disappear. Her breath hiccupped against his chest, damp clothes clinging to both of them now.

Atsumu ran his palm up and down her back in slow, shaky sweeps. Like he wasn’t totally sure it was helping, but couldn’t stop himself.

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

She exhaled through her nose, shaky and tired. “Just… everything. It honestly just felt like one thing after another. I kept it in all day and now it’s like—” She pulled back slightly, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s stupid. I just wanna take a bath and go to bed.”

“S'not stupid.”

He said it instantly. No teasing. No grin. Just a low murmur with an edge of guilt clinging to the end of it.

“Alright,” he added after a pause, stepping back like he didn’t want to crowd her, “Go run yer bath. I’ll heat somethin’ up in case ya get hungry later.”

She nodded, still blinking back the last of her tears, and gave him a tired half-smile. Not quite forgiveness. But close.

He watched her retreat down the hall, water still trailing behind her, and rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pink.

Behind him, Suna muttered mockingly. “Drowned rat?”

Atsumu clicked his tongue. “Shut up.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The bathroom filled with steam in minutes, fogging up the mirror and softening the harshness of the day. She sank into the water slowly, letting out a shaky breath as the warmth wrapped around her like a balm. For the first time since she’d woken up, her shoulders started to lower. Her jaw unclenched. Her eyes fluttered shut.

The bath salts she’d been saving for a “bad day” finally got their moment. Lavender and eucalyptus curled through the air, calming her nerves as they prickled beneath the surface. Her hair was damp and messy, her eyes still puffy, but the silence was kind. Her breath came easier here.

She didn’t stay in long. Just long enough to stop shaking. Long enough to feel like herself again.

After wrapping herself in her softest pyjamas and towel-drying her hair, she padded barefoot back toward her room, ready to collapse into bed and forget today ever happened.

But when she opened her door, something else caught her attention.

There, sitting neatly on the centre of her bed, was a single daisy from the living room vase. It was slightly crooked, like it had been plucked in a hurry. Next to it sat her favourite kind of chocolate bar—half-melted around the edges like someone had clutched onto it too tightly.

A folded scrap of paper sat beneath the daisy. Her name jotted across it in messy, slightly smudged handwriting.

She recognised it instantly. Picked it up with a curious hum.

Sorry again for earlier. You’re not a drowned rat. Also Samu said I’m banned from the kitchen so if you’re hungry I’ll just order ya somethin. Just say the word. Please don’t hate me. – Tsumu ♡

She stood there for a long moment, lips twitching into the kind of smile you don’t even feel at first. Then she placed the flower gently on her nightstand, unwrapped the chocolate, and read the note one more time—tracing her thumb over the messy little heart at the end.

And just like that, the heaviness in her chest loosened a little.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel like being alone anymore.

She padded out of her room and down the stairs, blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape. Her hair was damp and slightly frizzy, her cheeks still a little pink from the bath, but she didn’t care. Not anymore.

Suna looked up first. He didn’t say anything—just raised his eyebrows slightly in greeting and moved his legs so she could sit down.

Osamu glanced over from the armchair. “There’s soup on the stove,” he said casually. “And hot chocolate in the thermos.”

Atsumu twisted around on the couch, too swift for it to be casual. His face lit up in that boyish, unfiltered way he never quite managed to hide around her.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Feelin’ better?”

She nodded, curling up between him and Suna with a tired little sigh. “Yeah.”

He draped an arm over her blanket cocoon, hesitating for a second like he wasn’t sure if he was still in trouble.

Then she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Forgiven.

They watched some random show for a while. Nothing important. Nothing serious. Suna handed her a mug of hot chocolate without looking. Osamu disappeared into the kitchen, then reappeared with a warm bowl of soup and a slice of bread, setting it on the coffee table like he could already sense her hunger even before she did.

No one said much.

But her eyes stopped stinging. Her chest felt a little less heavy. And when Atsumu nudged her knee and whispered, “yer the cutest rat I've ever seen” she rolled her eyes—but smiled this time.

The world hadn’t been kind to her today. But her friends were.

And that made all the difference.

[kawoala]

atsumu miya - 320 words.

atsumu knows he’s screwed.

the second you laugh at his joke, fingers brushing his chest as you lean forward, he knows he’s absolutely screwed. later, osamu will tease him for how red he got, but he’ll brush it off with an indignant roll of his eyes.

from that moment on, atsumu’s familiar cockiness melts away in your presence. he stumbles over his words, avoiding eye contact. his jokes fall flat, and yet you still laugh every time. suna tells him you’re way out of his league and atsumu shoves his shoulder playfully, reluctantly and internally agreeing.

some random day after school, to his surprise, you ask him to walk you home. he has practice, but he skips the first half for you. kita is gonna tear him a new one—he can’t find it in himself to care. he shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at the ground as you talk to him, too nervous to meet your eyes.

when the first dribbles of rain hit the ground, he curses. you both make a run for a nearby bus stop, where there’s a roof, and stand there for a quiet moment.

“i love the rain,” you say eventually, letting out a soft sigh.

he glances over at you and the look of absolute wonder leaves a pang of joy in his heart. you look so . . . ethereal. suna was right; you’re so out of his league.

“especially when it’s warm out,” you continue. you reach your hand out, letting the water fill your cupped hand before pouring it. you turn to atsumu with a giggle. “do you like the rain?”

he hesitates, enamored by the look in your eyes. “yeah,” he answers, breathless. and, really, he doesn’t. it’s cold and wet and it sucks. but you like it. and he likes you. and he would stand with you in the rain forever if it meant seeing that look on your face.

[noirflms]

BEING A GIRL DAD — hq men

to them their daughter is their world, to them she is everything. or wherein haikyuu men experience being girl dads.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ HINATA SHOYO !

his little girl is his everything. he’d bring the whole wide world to her feet if he could. he would do anything for this little girl of his. the day she was born brought him nothing but immense pleasure, it was one of the best days of his life; the day that made him grow, the day he realised that there would never be nothing as important as the little one in his arms and you — the love of his life and the mother of his child.

to him, being a girl dad came easy. he had looked after a young girl once, who has now become an outstanding woman in the field of his very own expertise — volleyball. being a father to a daughter came easy to him, he loved her like it was breathing, to him she was the very thing that brought him to life.

he loves his little girl to pieces. for he sits at her tea parties, even wears the crown and play the princess in despair. he lets her paint his nails the colour that mummy’s (your) eyes are, he lets her do his hair the way she wants it to look for her daddy should always look handsome. he adores his little one to death; for she brought him strength, she grounded him to where he belongs.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ MIYA ATSUMU !

twins. you birthed twin girls. it was a miracle, yet there was no doubt they were supposed to be twins, it was the very thing that ran in his family. the day they were born, he wasn’t there and he hates that he was not present to see them be welcomed to the world, but you tell him, their love won’t change one bit for him. the girls are his universe, they mean so much to him, that he might go insane if they aren’t in his sight.

they are daddy’s little girls, they love their father too much. the press kisses to his cheeks when wishing him goodnight, they punch him when he hurts their mommy, they giggle when he turns into the kissy monster for them. he does everything for them; he calls it making it up for when he misses their birth.

he tries his best to be at home, to always be a face engraved in their memory, so they don’t forget him when he leaves for matches and tournaments and return after months. he doesn’t want his little girls to forget who he is. he cries in your arms at night thinking he does so less for the three of you, but only if he knew the girls screamed the loudest whenever their papa came on screen, their faces lit up with the brightest smile whenever they get to talk about him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ KUROO TETSURO !

he always wanted a little girl. and his wish came true. she looked like you, yet had subtle hints of his features, yet she was so much like you. to him, his daughter was the very thing that breathed life in him, she meant the world to him. he remembers when he first held her, she was too small in his big arms, he couldn’t help but tear up at the sight, as you laughed with tears lingering in your eyes at the scene before you. in the moment he realised he would even go to war for this little soul he helped create.

being a girl dad came with consequences of their own. but he knew, that if he wished to give her the world, he would even take the bullet of circumstances and chaos brought to him. from seeing her take her first steps to seeing her blow the candles of her birthdays, from watching her say ‘dada’, to crying in the morning when he left for work — he wished he could take a leave but he knows you’d scold him so.

to kuroo, his daughter is his life. he gives her all, from the dresses she would only wear just once and throw away, to toys she just had to touch and they will all be brought. but she was his heart more when she touched the volleyball and the glint in his eyes grew, but he knows he would only do whatever she wants, for she was the one ruling his heart now.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ IWAIZUMI HAJIME !

his daughter was his exact copy. from loving godzilla to calling oikawa — uncle shittykawa. to giving names to people without a second thought behind her eyes. she was exactly like the man you married, it made you wonder if she even had the littlest of your traits. in hajime’s eyes he is proud for he has the strongest girl, his warrior princess as he calls her.

she has your eyes and that is what iwaizumi loves, for he gets to fall in love with the same eyes again and again. and those are also the eyes, that he would never be able to say no to. it takes all in him to begin with ‘no, sweetheart, not this time,’ that gradually turns into, ‘don’t tell your mom i got you this.’ but he forgets he is too loud at whispering within these thin wood walls and you’ll always know.

your daughter is an absolute hero is what you’ve also known. she was four when she had picked up an bug from the garden brought it to you, you almost fainted but kept your cool at the bug being suddenly brought up to your face. it’s funny how much she looks like you to only share traits with her father, and so it makes you wonder, would another little one have your traits of just the same as their father’s?

back and i am better 😝😝

NOIRFLMS 2025 ! all rights reserved - plagiarism is a crime , do not translate my works without permission.

[dayndream]

✷ THEIR LIPS ON YOU

NSFW — MNDI. How they use their mouth with you: kisses, marks, bites, etc. Obviously time skip. They're kinda possessive and completely obsessed with you. Lots of praise, but Suna is a bit of a tease.

Including ATSUMU, OSAMU, SUNA, KITA (separately) x fem reader.

⊹ MIYA ATSUMU loves placing open-mouthed kisses all over your pretty neck while he is holding your wrists on top of your head. A soft, graceful moan with his name falls from your lips, fueling his insatiable desire, which only causes his lower body to move instinctively towards you, greedily. His lips got pressed against yours a second later—kissing you and drowning into you, just before he grunts over your skin as he went back to your neck.

His hands wandered through your figure with a burning sensation at the tip of his fingers, gripping your hips harshly to move you closer to him with ease. His lips traced a path full of kisses to your chest, leaving marks all over you. “Look how gorgeous you look like this... All mine, right? You're all mine”, he pants, smiling without even the slightest shame of the multiple dark spots he was painting on your body. In fact, he was proud about it, teasing you about how needy you seem whenever his lips start sucking on your skin—bragging as if he wasn't all desperate as well.

⊹ There is not an inch on your body that MIYA OSAMU leaves unkissed. Just as with his hands, he adores to feel you entirely, leaving sweet caresses all over you while he claims you as his property. Of course he is a gentleman, don't mistake him, but he is also insanely obsessed with you. His teeth slightly sink in you, leaving bite marks without any kind of order while he surrounds your waist with his thick arms, keeping you lovingly close—hungrily in love.

“You're so perfect, I want you— want you just for me”, he growls, barely brushing his lips onto your skin before pressing them on your temple. His rough thrusts were completely opposite to his kiss, but not to the lewd glare he gave you after it. His filthy eyes went down on your body, admiring everything only he is able to touch. He bit his own lips as he approached closer to you, just for him to bite yours after, leaving them sore and plumped while holding a sneaky smile on his face, planning to leave a thousand kisses and bite marks more on the rest of you.

⊹ SUNA RINTARO can't get enough of how much control he has over you and your pretty moans solely by using his tongue on the right places—those vulnerable spots that he knows they never fail to turn you weak only for him. He wants to taste you—wants to devour you. Gentle bites here and there would never be missing either, adding a soft but taunting pressure onto your body as he enjoys the sweet melody of your gasps carrying his name as they roll out from your mouth.

“Oww, so wet already, doll?”, he said with a annoying smug expression all over his face as his fingers slid smoothly in between your thighs, finally touching your needy cunt. “Guess I gotta take care of this, yeah? So fuckin' pretty— just for me, you're mine”. His unique eyes looked into yours for a brief moment, smiling lovingly despite his mocking tone before kissing your lips profoundly, almost eagerly—craving to make of you a whole mess. His lips trailed down to your neck, then to your chest, until reaching your lower stomach, dragging his hands to your waist as he started getting completely down on you.

⊹ KITA SHINSUKE is such a romantic man, he is head over heels for you, and you know that—everybody does, but only he knows how immense his love really is. As he fucks you—no, as he makes love to you, it's almost as if he was trying to physically show you how intense and passionate his feelings truly are. His deep thrusts making you breathlessly moan his name. “It's okay, baby, I know”, he coos, while gently holding your face before giving your lips a soft peck, kissing you fondly right after it. A few moans escaped his mouth, falling into yours as he continued to bottom you out.

His lips traveled down through your neck, leaving sweet kisses on your skin as the rest of his body refused the idea of having even the slightest space in between you and him. Holding your hands, he leaved soft bites on your breasts, naturally intertwining your fingers with his at the same time. “You're so pretty... I love you— love every single part of you”, he praised, already coming closer to your mouth once again as he was looking for another lingering kiss.

Memorabilia Passage.

© 2025 dayndream. — do not modify, repost, claim, copy or translate.

[inloveinsickness]

MIYA ATSUMU has countless pet names and cheesy phrases for you but at the end of the day, your name is the one that grounds him.

"wish me luck babe!"

this is an important game, not in terms of progression but to set the tone for the rest of the season, and it's not going according to plan.

"you'll get the next one!" "ya bet i will darlin'!"

he's slightly off form today, a couple of missed serves and sets off trajectory too many for a seasoned professional like himself. of course, everyone makes mistakes, but atsumu doesn't take his own shortcomings lightly.

despite the victory, it shows in the way the furrow of his brow remains past locker room debrief, etching creases into his forehead with a barely suppressed frown to match as he shuffles over to you once everything's wrapped up. you know better than to ask questions, simply taking his calloused hand in yours and squeezing thrice, silently leading him to the car.

his damp blonde strands ruffle in the wind, yet it still falls short in masking the disappointment swirling in his eyes, the sound of your name falling from his lips small in the expanse of the once busy carpark, now almost empty, like a distant lighthouse amidst the sea.

"hey," the evening breeze caresses his cheek just as your words grace his ears, fingers intertwining with his as you step closer, overwhelming his senses. "i'm proud of you tsumu."

the warmth of the golden sunset pales in comparison to your ever saccharine love and embrace, and if atsumu's quivering lip against your shoulder is any indication, you always did know what he needed to hear.

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

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

@ayatakanosstuff @zuhaeri @cyxjz @sexylexy12

notes. so about not posting this week... i lied... ;3 anyway this is not proofread so don't mind any typos

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

[cottonlemonade]

Thinking about how Atsumu turned all pouty whenever he saw his teammates getting a jump hug from their partners after a game.

“Why can’t we do that?”, he whined and looked at you with big puppy eyes.

“Because I would hurt you.”, you replied patiently.

“Nuh-uh. Why do ya think I go to the gym?”

His sage logic aside you only chuckled, still fairly certain he wasn’t serious.

“A layman might think it’s for your job.”

“Not anymore!”, he countered, “Been meaning to tell ya. I’ve long ago abandoned the dream and am now solely focused on giving ya the lovin’ ya deserve. Up against a wall.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, honey, but that will never happen.”, you patted his cheek and turned to join the crowd in their slow migration towards the exits.

“Why not?”, he whined, catching up with you.

“Because I will not be responsible for the end of a pro athlete’s career, that’s why.”

“That’s so unfair.”, he stepped into your way, “I want a jump hug. With impact. I want us to almost bang our heads together and only narrowly avoid a major concussion.”

Chewing your lips you looked down at yourself, at the chubby tummy and thick thighs that Atsumu loved to use as a pillow for his naps.

“How long would it take me to talk you out of it?”

“My funeral.”

And so you sighed. “Fine.”

As you put some distance between you and him for a good running start you bumped into a few people and thought more and more about what an incredibly stupid idea this was. But then you saw your boyfriend roll his shoulders and widen his stance, so very ready to catch you.

“Don’t be scared, baby! I got ya!”, he called and unfortunately pulled several surrounding eyes onto you.

When you finally ran at him and jumped, you closed your eyes waiting for him to tip over but your man stood strong. Not even a wobble in sight. You clutched at his biceps, still sweaty from the game, and squinted at him hesitantly.

A wide cocky grin was spread across his face and he adjusted his grip on you.

“Told ya I gotcha.”

[kurooh]

FIRST DATE JITTERS ☆ MIYA ATSUMU

atsumu swears he isn’t crazy.

yes, he’s talking to himself while standing in the middle of his very empty apartment, right at the epicenter of the mess he’s made with his own hands. a lamp gifted to him by his mom is on its side on the floor, the lampshade permanently dented now—the flung shoes that had knocked it over are beside it, the toes pointing right at him to further prove that it was entirely his doing.

rumpled blankets are hanging off the foot of the bed, touching the floor while they’re weighed down by all of the clothes he’s dragged out of his closet. somehow, his high school jersey made it into the mix. god, like he’d ever wear that to a date.

atsumu slams down on the dial button again and waits impatiently, starting to fidget as the low tone of the phone drones into his ear. if he gets sent to voicemail one more fucking time—

“what do ya want, tsumu?” osamu’s grumble crackles through the phone, accompanied by the sounds of talking and clinking dishes. “ya only called me nineteen fuckin’ times. should’a known it was only a matter a’time before ya called the fuc—ahem, the restaurant.”

“answer yer phone an’ i wouldn’t have’ta call ya so many goddamn times! listen, i need yer help with something, i’ve gotta pick up a date in a half hour and i—”

“tsumu has a wittle date, huh?” on the other side, osamu ignores the weird looks from customers and his own staff members as he pitches his voice. “and ya just had ta make it my problem. i’m not comin’ over there, ya need to deal with it yerself.”

atsumu sighs indignantly, practically blowing steam out through his nostrils like a wild bison. his brother is really, really getting on his last nerve, but he doesn’t want to show up at your place with a vein bulging out of his forehead, so he tries to calm himself. “if ya’d just listen ta me, ya’d understand that i need some help choosing what ta wear. my apartment’s a fuckin’ mess right now, which coulda been prevented if ya picked up earlier, goddamn it!”

he shouts the last of it and hopes that osamu doesn’t hang up and instead senses his plight with the hard-wired brotherly instincts they both share.

“sorry, what was that? the restaurant’s real busy, i think i might have to get back to it.”

“i need yer advice! i don’t know what i should wear ta pick her up, so stop messin’ around and help me. yer the one who’s been on more dates anyway, ya scrub.”

osamu sighs, probably fidgeting with the phone cord as he contemplates giving in and helping out. this is the first time his brother has called with this much desperation over a date, of all things—he honestly thought that atsumu would get better at this whole song and dance once he made it onto msby. he supposes it’s a good thing that he’s the one atsumu is calling, and it’s a nice little ego boost too.

anyway, between the two of them, he’s always had an easier time talking to and wooing women. you’ve come up in their conversations a few times before, but atsumu tends to drone on about how much he likes you, so osamu pointedly avoids the topic. as much as osamu loves him, he knows that his brother can be a bit much—awkwardly making jokes when he first meets someone, describing volleyball to them against their will, and worse, texting back too quickly to start up more torturous conversations.

but from what atsumu’s divulged to him over the phone, osamu understands that you are a perfect match for his brother. you balance out all of his excitement and listen to his volleyball stories—even laughing genuinely at a few of them—in a way that nobody has before. osamu wants his brother to be happy, and he also wants to be the one credited with bringing the two of you together (he can see this working out in the long run).

“m’kay, tsumu, open yer ears and listen closely. got it?”

atsumu’s trying not to start sweating and ruin the results of what ended up being an hour long shower; you unknowingly send him a friendly text letting him know you’re ready to go and awaiting him. “yeah, i got it . . samu, fuck, she’s sayin’ she’s ready and—”

osamu snaps into the serious, focused persona he usually reserves for when he’s crammed in the kitchen during a holiday rush hour. “ignore her text an’ tell me what yer options are. i assume yer takin’ her ta dinner, right?”

“fancy place over on eleventh street. both of ‘em are dress shirts, but it’s between dark blue, white, and—”

“dark blue, tsumu. make sure it has a goddamn collar, you ain’t going ta a team dinner.”

atsumu frowns as he holds up the shirt, scanning over the fabric for a single wrinkle. he got everything he could find dry cleaned just for this moment and steamed—three dress shirts, two pairs of pants, a vest, and two ties. you’re probably sitting on the couch at home, waiting for a text back in your pretty dress, completely unaware of the fact that he’s spiraling. seeing the dry cleaning bill plus the rush charge on top of it made him take a lap around the parking lot, but he returned brandishing his card, reminding himself that this much effort would totally be worth it. “‘m gonna go with the black pants. should i wear a vest too or will she laugh at me?”

osamu winces, sucking in a sharp breath at the thought. this is a risky maneuver, but it should be fine if he balances it out with a nice tie. one of his waitresses is mouthing a plea for help toward him, and he’s trying to let her know he needs two more minutes max.

“samu, come on,” his voice gets whiny and he stamps his foot on the carpet in frustration. “‘m getting sweaty already.”

“deodorant before ya put anything on, don’t wanna take her breath away with yer stench. match the vest ta the pants, make sure ya got clean socks on.”

“oh, fuck off! i always wear clean socks, it was only that one time.” atsumu is currently rifling through his drawers for a pair of clean socks without patterns in case you end up seeing them later on, and he finally comes up with a tight ball of fabric. he holds it up like it’s a gold nugget, the eureka of the decade, and then remembers that nobody is in the apartment with him.

“look, tsumu, i gotta go. remember ta be a gentleman ‘n hold doors, pull chairs, all that.”

atsumu’s face drops while he’s in the middle of pulling his socks on. he starts to protest uselessly, growing more panicked with every word that tumbles out of his mouth. “samu, oh my god. she’s gonna look really fuckin’ good, how do i compliment her? what if i start chokin’ when we’re eatin’ and i embarrass myself? i need ya ta talk ta me, i really like her and—”

“tsumu, breathe. no need ta get so damn worked up, it’s jus’ a date. be yerself an’ use yer judgment. ya got it in the bag, don’t sweat it.”

osamu considers that this may be the wrong choice of words, because atsumu groans and pops off the cap of what is probably a stick of deodorant. dejected, his brother mumbles a goodbye and a thanks, not wanting to hang up himself.

“wear a blue tie. send me some pictures, ‘kay? try yer best not ta look like a scrub, dude. good luck with her, yer gonna be fine.”

atsumu is quick to follow his brother’s instructions after applying one too many layers of deodorant. when he’s fully dressed, he takes a mirror photo and sends it to osamu’s cell, then texts you that he’s heading over to pick you up for dinner. he sprays a small amount of cologne and adjusts his too-tight tie before heading out the door, his tummy flipping nervously.

it is only soothed when you open the door with a smile on your face, right after a single knock. atsumu looks as handsome as ever, outfitted in a tantalizing combination of blue and black. his cheeks are a dusty pink, and they only darken when he respectfully tries to take in the beauty of your dress.

he clears his throat, snapping out of his daze, and offers you his arm, a cute though awkward grin splitting across his face. “yer just . . god, yer breathtakin’. so beautiful.”

you laugh as you take his arm, cheeks warming. “you clean up pretty well yourself, atsumu.”

—

“wait, what?” you cackle in disbelief, laughing breathlessly as osamu nods seriously. “no way, he really called you and begged you for your help?”

“yeah, he tore the fuckin’ place up all because he couldn’t make a decision. hey, tsumu, tell her how much ya spent on dry cleanin’.”

atsumu flares indignantly, cheeks burning with a visible glow as he sets down the wine glasses a little harder than he should. “samu, i know we’re gettin’ married, but that was two goddamn years ago. ya didn’t even help me that much, my tie was tangled and—”

you gasp in surprise, recounting the events of your first date. “baby, is that why i had to loosen it for you? it was so tight, i’m surprised you didn’t suffocate and keel over on the way up to my apartment.”

atsumu dramatically turns his head to the side, tipping his nose up in disdain. he did nearly choke himself out with the tie that had been a birthday gift from an msby teammate, but in his defense, he was rushing out the door and had only ever worn ties tied by either his mom or osamu. “maybe if i did, i wouldn’t have’ta sit here while you throw dirt all over my name, samu. and you, babe, yer laughin’ at me.”

osamu pours himself a glass of wine and watches as you console his brother, hugging him tightly. “mm mm, tsumu. i’m only laughing because i think all of the effort you put into that date was sweet. i didn’t look it, but i was almost as nervous as you were.”

eyes gleaming with hopefulness, atsumu softens and looks at you with a small smile. “really? yer not just tryin’ ta apologize for disparagin’ me in front of samu?”

“i promise,” and then you tilt his face toward your own, brushing your lips against his in what is clearly the beginning of a lovey-dovey kiss.

osamu sits back with the wine glass in his hand, then starts to gag and retch loudly when atsumu purposefully kisses you more passionately. “urk! i know yer gettin’ married next month, but everybody else an’ i don’t wanna see all that.”

instead of saying anything, atsumu lets his middle finger speak for the two of you.

inspired by this! haikyuu fluff will always be special to me <3

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 ✎ ⋆˙⟡

miya atsumu x f!reader

your menstrual period just so happens to arrive the week of your first big writing deadline. meanwhile, atsumu discovers new sides to you.

part two of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.

Atsumu had never lived with a girl before. It was disorienting — the amount of stationary you used, the amount of candles you lit when you cooked. The entire bathroom smelled like your shea butter body wash after you showered, and the countertops were littered with a million different skincare products he didn't even know the purpose of.

He also had to be cleaner around you, too, which took almost every fiber of his being. He was used to throwing his socks on the floor and leaving his dirty dishes in the sink. But now, he couldn't help but pick up after himself around you. The apartment was just too damn nice. He even found himself using the chore calendar you'd created on the whiteboard by the kitchenette, moving his assigned magnets — foxes for him, bunnies for you — beneath each chore he'd completed.

What on earth had he become?

Osamu had joked that the real Atsumu had died and been replaced by a cleaner, more considerate version of himself. That you — with all of your house plants and bath salts and kitchen towelettes — had domesticated him more than his future wife ever would. He wasn't prepared for the 180° turn, moving from the fraternity house to your cozy north campus apartment.

But nothing, nothing, had prepared him for the first time he saw you on your period.

"Is...she okay?" Osamu asked his twin brother, peering out of the kitchenette where they had been hiding for the past twenty minutes.

Past the threshold, you sat at your dining room table, surrounded by papers. Your unwashed hair was tossed into a lopsided knot on the side of your head, and the drawstrings of your hoodie were frayed from the amount of times you'd chewed on them. You were furiously scribbling out sentences of your latest short story, occasionally crumpling up a page in a fit of rage, and you were murmuring. Atsumu couldn't tell if you were reading to yourself or performing an exorcism.

"Y/N's short story for her creative writin' workshop is due this week, and she's been stressed out of her mind about it," he mumbled under his breath. "Not to mention she's been crankier than usual."

"Maybe she's havin' second thoughts about lettin' ya through her front door," Osamu mused.

"Ya know she chewed me out for not double-knottin' the trash bag this mornin'?"

Osamu shot him a disgusted look. "You should doubt-knot yer trash bag, ya pig. That's plain ol' common sense."

"Yeah, but she din' have to be so mean about it — "

"I can hear you, you know!" you shouted from the other room. Atsumu flinched from the sheer ferocity in your voice; Osamu, on the other hand, simply rolled his eyes.

"I restocked yer fridge with all the leftover veggies from the restaurant!" Osamu called out to you in consolation. "They're pre-diced and everythin'. Just throw 'em in the pan."

A second passed. Two.

Then, in some semblance of your usual, cheery voice, you said, "Thanks, Osamu! You're the best."

"Excuse me?" Atsumu choked, looking personally offended. "I get shot at for not takin' the trash out right, and suddenly yer the best?"

Osamu waggled his eyebrows before swiping his car keys off the kitchen counter and making his way towards the front door. "What can I say? I'm not the one she puts up with every day. I just deliver her groceries."

Atsumu glowered as the younger, more likable version of himself tipped his Onigiri Miya hat towards you and clicked the door shut, his self-satisfied smirk still lingering in the air long after he’d left.

Since Atsumu had moved in, his twin brother had taken it upon himself to ensure your fridge was never empty. He was always calling to ask if either of you needed anything from the grocery store, and he regularly dropped by after his shifts with containers full of sushi rice and diced vegetables. You found it sweet how Osamu made time to drive halfway across town to care for his brother while running a restaurant full-time. But Atsumu knew that, deep down, his brother was doing it partly out of pity. These past couple of months had done a number on the young volleyball player, and he was too emotionally spent to deny Osamu's help. Trudging towards the dining room, Atsumu was amused to find you completely zoned out in your chair, staring into the ether with a landfill's worth of crumpled paper at your feet.

He closed the distance between you and gently rapped a knuckle against your skull. "Anyone home?"

"I'm fucked. This story is fucked."

"Come on. It can't be that bad."

"Oh, it's bad," you said under your breath. "I've rewritten the same scene three times, and I've wasted half of my legal pad. I'm single-handedly contributing to deforestation."

"Well, ya ain't The Lorax, so I wouldn't worry about it too much," Atsumu grunted, bending down to collect your trash. "Why don't ya just take the rest of the night off? Take a walk, clear ya head?"

"I can't," you argued, standing from your chair for a quick stretch. Almost immediately, you doubled over from the pain twisting and knotting in your lower abdomen. "This story is due in two days, and I don't have that much time outside of class to work on it. Plus, I'm kinda..."

Atsumu blinked at you expectantly. "Kinda what?"

You gestured to the lower half of your body. "...menstruating at the moment."

Oh. Oh.

"I see," he mused, shucking your discarded paper into the recycling bin. "The Red Sea."

"Don't call my menstrual period The Red Sea," you threatened, although your voice carried less vitriol than before. You scrubbed your face with your hands and sighed. "Anyways, I'm cranky, I'm tired, I can't write my way out of this scene, and all I can think about is eating a twelve-ounce steak and a basket of fries." "Well, what if I helped ya out? Lemme see what yer working on."

Atsumu plucked your stack of papers off the dining room table and held his nose up to the page. "His lips traced the outline of her collarbone with calculated precision — "

You snatched it out of his hands. "Don't read it out loud like that!"

"What? I'm tryin' to help ya!" Atsumu argued, though a coy smile danced across his lips. "I'm not judgin' ya for writin' smut."

"It's not just smut. It's romance."

"It's smut."

"It has character development."

"Why are ya so worked up about me readin' it, anyway? Yer classmates get to, don't they? Ain't that the whole point of a writin’ workshop?"

"Yeah, but that's different. They're...English majors."

"Oh, so I'm just some dim-witted business major who can't have a critical eye?"

You perched your hands on your hips. "That's not what I meant."

"Then lemme read it," he said, holding his hand out. When you bristled away from him, he glared at you pointedly. "Look, I already know yer into horny reality TV, so you might as well jus' hand it ‘ere." You rolled your eyes. Ever since you and Atsumu had made Bachelor Mondays a weekly tradition, you'd shown him a few episodes of other reality dating competitions, Too Hot To Handle and Love Island in particular. You were happy to show him the side of you that indulged in steamy, on-screen romances, but romances you'd actually written? That was a whole other level of vulnerability. Still, his brown eyes never wavered in resolution, and after several seconds of watching you squirm, Atsumu eventually won. You slapped the handwritten pages into his calloused hand and said, "If you dare make fun of me for this, I will kill you."

"Will ya relax? I promise to take yer smut seriously," Atsumu said, pulling out a chair. "Now shuddup for a second while I read."

You busied yourself by making a cup of herbal tea for the next twenty minutes, occasionally peering over Atsumu's shoulder to check his progress, gauge his reactions. He wasn't kidding when he said he'd take your writing seriously — his eyes never left the page until he absorbed every last word, and even when he did, he went back to reread a passage or two.

"Damn, Y/N," he said after a while. "Yer writin' is good. A lil' freaky, but good."

"...thank you?" you replied, sliding into the seat next to him. "What about the characters, though? Were they believable?"

"Oh, yeah. Great chemistry, too," he said with a nod. "I wonder, though, if they should bone after she finds out he's leaving the country."

"Really?" you asked, a little surprised. "But the plot twist makes for such a heart-wrenching last line."

"It does, but think about it. Yer love interest makes himself out to be this earnest, down-to-earth fella, yet he sleeps with a girl he just met without tellin' her his plans to move abroad. It just doesn't really sound like somethin' he'd do."

"Huh. I guess I'd never thought about it that way."

"Plus, it'd be even more heart-wrenchin' if she stayed the night knowing he was leavin’."

"Oh, that's a good point." You reached for your pen to jot down some notes. "That way, she decides to break her own heart instead of feeling completely mislead."

"Exactly."

You felt the gears begin to turn in your brain, Atsumu's words unlocking a whole new realm of possibilities for the scene you'd been mulling over for the past several hours. It was as if he'd turned a light switch back on in your brain, reorienting you completely.

Now it was your turn to look impressed.

"Damn, Atsumu," you said, looking at the pages in your hands with a newfound sense of clarity. “That was...really helpful, actually. Thank you."

He stared at you flatly. "Ya don't need to act so surprised, ya know."

"I just didn't expect you to be such an expert on romance, is all."

"Are ya kiddin' me?" he scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. "I'll have ya know I was a huge heartthrob back in the day."

"Back in the day?" you snorted. "What were you, twelve?"

"I meant in my first couple years of college. Before..." he trailed off, the confidence on his face faltering for a split-second. You looked at him expectantly.

"...before what?"

He picked at a loose thread on the seam of his sweatpants.

"Before my first real heartbreak," he finally said, shrugging it off as if it was no big deal. "Happens to everyone at some point.”

Your gaze immediately softened, the picture of Atsumu's life before you becoming a little sharper in your mind. It wasn't clear enough for you to fully understand his reasons for moving in with you senior year, but it was enough for you to reach out and give the sleeve of his sweatshirt a gentle tug.

"Well, if its any consolation, you'd kill it in my creative writing workshop."

Atsumu smiled, though it didn't completely reach his eyes. "Nah. I ain't as colorful with my words as ya are. I never knew there were so many poetic ways to describe gettin' railed."

With that, you picked up your stack of papers and smacked him in the arm. He laughed this time around, his posture calm, more relaxed.

"Thank you for your help," you told him in earnest.

"Anytime," he said, pushing his chair back. "Now put yer shoes on. We're headin' out."

"Where are we going?" you asked, following your roommate into the living room as he retrieved his wallet and car keys from the coffee table.

"Ya said ya wanted a twelve-ounce steak and a basket or fries, right?"

You blinked. "Well, yeah, but — "

"Then let's go. There's this 24-hour joint my teammates and I always go to after games. That alright with ya?"

As if on cue, your stomach squelched in hunger.

He nodded. "I'll take that as a yes.”

Living with a girl may have been new territory for Miya Atsumu — but if he prided himself on anything, it was being a fast learner. And judging by the confused, if not mildly touched look on your face as he ushered you out the door, he was catching on quickly.

a/n: thank you for all the love on the previous chapter! i always had a soft spot for atsumu, so I wanted to explore what he would be like in his healing/coming-of-age era. this exploration does require a bit of emotional duress (forgive me), but also lots of tenderness and love! i'm excited to continue writing. ( ╥ ᴗ ╥)

all my best, @miyasmagnolias 2025

[xlun1ax]

Lover scenario

~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~

❥ More than that > reader x male lover

Fluff, sleep, unconscious, kissing, touching, mild suggestive, hugging

୨୧꯭

·

It was 9pm

When Your lover came homelate his excuse? His co-workers wanted to hangout with him there was no harm in bonding with them. And, knowing you you would be more than happy to hear he grew close with others since you tend to encourage it.

He knew your habits like on the back of his hand at nine you would slow down your routine get ready for sleep so he was full on expecting you to do your usual stretch or another quiet hobby like watching a show or reading.

But this was a rare sight.

Your legs were on top of the couch. Like your pretty feet was full on dangling there on the backrest. His brow was raised in contemplation while taking a step towards you wondering if you found a new hobby that made you in the new position but no,

oh dear, his heart skips a beat.

You fell asleep.

You were hugging your phone, while your hair was tossed to cover the pillow, you didn't look ready for bed like you usually do. It took a while but he arrives to a conclusion. Seriously would it hurt to ask him to come home early? You always say you don't like texting because it's a hassle. You prefer face to face interaction only when he's around you would be honest with your intentions seeing that phone on your chest. you were waiting for him to text you when he'd come home.

It made his heart ache at how cute you can be sometimes dispute your ego.

His eyes drank in the sight of you letting out a sigh recognizing your sleeping habits that he grew familiar to. He doesn't know why, but whenever you'd sleep you tend to lift up your shirt until it shows your sweet subtle waist till your bra band,

Or more .

It was a question he never got an answer to he really doesn't get why. Not that he's complaining about it, it's just one of the unimportant things that tend to linger in one's mind. Perhaps it's cause you had a phase where you slept naked, who knows? But because of this habit of yours he had developed his own habit.

He leans in towards your lower abdomen kissing the skin his lips lingered on it that when he pulled away it was coated with slight wetness of his lips. He knows that's where's a baby tend to be planted if you guys decide to have one. But regardless of not having one he came to love that part of you often kissed you there. The habit became obvious whenever he sees you asleep.

“seriously what are you doing to me my love” he mutters as he looks up at your docile state unconscious. He didn't think he would put so much effort in a girl but you proved him wrong, You had trust issues heck it took a long time for him to win you over then you get overstimulated easily he couldn't touch you if he didn't do it right it makes you annoyed but seeing you sleeping Infront if him. Made him realize how much you trust him now.

He could do anything while you're unconscious you knew about it. You voiced your concerns about the possibilities but now it's all worth it he's the closest that anyone will ever be to you...

How can he not take pride in that?

You were a hard nut to crack but it was all worth it in his opinion although he'd be dead if you find out he kissed your tummy whenever you're sleeping. He can already picture the endless teasing. He kissed the corner of your lip ready to get off you.

But to his surprised

You grabbed his wrist pulled him back on the couch. Without letting him process it you went up on his chest nuzzling your face into his neck planting a soft kiss on it.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't blushing.

“L-love” his voice cracked as he gazed down at you he gulped parting his lip about to speak but you cut him off “I waited for you, is that all you're gonna give me?” you muttered making his face rival the redness of a tomato

“I didn't think you'd be so needy today ” he murmured covering half of his face. He can't comprehend this normally your arousal state would be near you period..

What date is it today.

Your lips crashed into his before he could remind himself. He knew it was coming but it never fail to make him weak he feels himself shiver while holding the couch fabric for any semblance of stability.

But you're too much of a weakness for him. Any more it's enough to make him fall to his knees. He lets out a moan louder than usual when you let your tongue in. The loud volume took you by surprise making you pull back rose an eyebrow at his reaction before a chuckle slips out of your mouth in amusement.

He never fail to amuse you and you love that about him.

His eyes hover to the side feeling embarrassed by his out burst. He didn't wanna believe that was him but your reaction says it all “stop laughing ” he grumbles flustered at your burst before your laughter dies down shaking your head.

Your expression was soft being beside him always manages to make you feel better suddenly that heavy feeling felt lighter. But is it gone? No.

You need more.

More than that to feel much better.

He knows.

It's not everyday you wait for him when you are being transparent like this it's because you want him to know how much you want him. You are careful you knew he picks up on detail that's why you calculate every movement it's sad you have to act like this that's why he savours every drop of transparency that you let out.

It's too good

It's addictive

You're addictive

It makes him want more

And he knows the question is coming

“sorry that was a bit much but, ” your voice was soft like lullaby to his ear you finger on his cheek was like carefully tracing a textured art work he loves the attention. The attention that is so hard to grab.

“ you don't need to apologize I was just surprised ” it was true you didn't because he loved it soo much he wants more you can see it in your eyes you both can't help but feel lucky to have a partner that understands you guys better than anyone.

This is your guys home. A home where you both can be honest with each other in. A safe place that will never be tainted.

Savour it

Love it

Cause time is limited

You don't know when the clock will stop ticking

That's how you guys feel with each other inside the house.

More.

I need more time with you

“that's a relief than lovely, can i have more?” your voice rung your thirst was obvious and he loves it. You both could be obsessed with each other and you guys don't care.

“you can more than that my love ”

If you want more and more is what you'll get.

You guys are willing to give each other more than anything in this world.

Because to you guys you both had excided more than that with each other.

.

Turns out he was right next morning you got your period.

~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~

⢷A/n: as always thanks for reading luv you bub<3

✧

©xlun1ax do not copy, translate or post author's work on other platforms

[alpali]

Hi hi Ali, congratulations on 700 followers! Your writing is so good I'm glad people are appreciating it (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

May I ask something for your event?

If yes, may I have Atsumu and the trope "singing your favorite lovesong to them as if you are truly dedicating the song to them"? I thought the trope is super cute and a bit of yearning is always endearing. If it's ok, a drabble would be good

Once again, congratulations 💙

Having a roommate who was tall hot and cocky was definitely a challenge. You had applied for the room since he lived close to your campus and at first he was very respectful, no boundaries crossed, very much a gentleman.

However when the two of you grew closer, maybe even blurring the lines between friends or lovers, his goofy side made an appearance. He was loud, a baby, flirtatious, inappropriate. You always replied with a playful roll of your eyes, indulging in his dumb banter.

Lazy early mornings were a regular for the two of you. You’d wake up, get breakfast started and Atsumu would come strolling in, half asleep. You hand him his mug, all apart of this routine. He leans against the counter watching you with a soft smile.

You gasp when your favorite song plays through the speaker. You immediately start humming, swaying your hips. Atsumu breathes out a laugh. You look so cute and so domestic with nothing but your oversized shirt and shorts. Yet you take him by surprise when you whip around, holding the spatula and walking towards him and singing.

“Oh—I wanna take two, I wanna break through—I wanna know the real thing about you, so I can see you in a new light~”

You push his mug to the side, forcing him to dance with you. He looks amused, staring down at you with adoration.

“What is this hm?”

You don’t answer, only singing more.

“Oh~ we can go far from here and make a new world together babe.”

He grins, which you can only guess was due to the pet name.

“Cause if you give me just one night, you’re gonna see me in a new light.”

He doesn’t say anything else, letting you lead him as you both sway away in the kitchen. Food, his mug, your spatula, all of it forgotten. At some point his hands had ended up in your waist and your hands on his shoulders. He twirls you around solely because he loved the way you smiled when he did. He pulls you against him but you’re not done just yet.

“What do I do with all this—what do I do with all this, this love that’s running through my veins for you.”

This couldn’t just be you singing right?

This had to have meant something.

It was all getting to him. The you looked at him with your doe eyes. He couldn’t ignore the way you looked so happy and he tells himself he doesn’t want to see you any different. When the song finally dies out, you giggle against him. He smiles down at you lovingly, fixing your hair.

“Yer so cute.” He smiles, he so badly wanted to kiss you.

You guys were so close anyways, this all felt so intimate but god he didn’t care. He loved every second of this and he didn’t want any of it to end. You laugh, patting at his chest.

“I love that song so much. You should be happy I sang it to you.” You tease and he throws his head back with a laugh.

“Ya sayin I’m special?” He quirks a brow and you roll your eyes.

“Sure—‘sumu.” You slide off of him, turning off the stove.

“Well I’d say yer in love with me after that kind of performance.” You smile to yourself, serving him food.

“And if I am?” He’s taken aback, his cheeks flushing red.

“Yer gonna kill me ya know.” You giggle again, taking a bite of your food.

“But I’d say that I’m in love with ya too.” He smirks, glancing at you for your reaction. You blush as well, moving your food around.

“Are you asking me out Miya?”

“I liked babe better.” He steps closer, he slides a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“If it means I get more mornin’s like this, then yea I am.” His fingers twirl around your hair.

“Take me out at least.” You sigh dramatically and he laughs, leaning closer.

“Let me kiss ya first.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Says the one who just sang a whole love song f’me.” He grins, unmoving.

“Fine, just one.” You hold up your finger.

It was indeed not one.

Because Atsumu had been waiting for this moment and he wasn’t gonna let it go to waste.

[rosierin]

domestic | atsumu miya

synopsis; (y/n) can't even fold the laundry without being harassed by a certain miya twin (not that she minds of course).

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

(Y/n) was minding her business.

She really was. Just folding laundry in the living room, bathed in the quiet, honeyed warmth of golden hour. Sunlight poured lazily through the windows, settling over the floor in soft, drowsy patterns, casting everything in a dreamy, amber glow. Her feet were tucked beneath her, legs folded as she knelt on the rug, hair slightly tousled from the long day. The laundry basket sat beside her, still warm from the dryer, its contents smelling like fresh cotton and floral detergent.

The air in the room felt gentle.

Things were peaceful.

Until Atsumu walked in—shirtless, in gym shorts, towel slung lazily over his shoulders, wet hair clinging to the nape of his neck—and the vibe… shifted.

Dramatically.

"Evenin'," he said, like he wasn't dripping sex appeal all over the hardwood floors.

(Y/n) forced her eyes to stay on the shirt in her hands. She knew—she knew—that one glance would unravel her composure faster than a loose thread.

"Evening," she replied lightly. Then, side-eyeing him: "Oi, use a hairdryer. You're getting the floor all wet."

He dropped onto the couch behind her with a groan, towel flopping over his lap, shaking his head like a golden retriever. A very hot, very smug golden retriever.

Water droplets sprayed in all directions. A few landed squarely on the back of her neck.

Her eye twitched. "Atsumu."

"What? I'm air-dryin'. Environmentally friendly."

She scoffed, not out of irritation—more out of muscle memory. He had a talent for toeing the line between annoying and charming. "Environmentally obnoxious," she muttered.

He smirked, running the towel through his hair with lazy swipes. “Whatcha doin’?”

She blinked down at the stack of laundry. “Baking a cake.”

"Smartass."

“Laundry,” she clarified, flatly.

“Fun.” He stretched his legs out until one pressed deliberately against hers. “Want company?”

She didn’t even look at him. Just kept sorting the laundry with practiced ease. “Mmm… not really.”

“Too bad.”

She exhaled through her nose, but there was a tug at her lips she didn’t bother hiding. Of course he was bored. And of course, when he was bored, he came to her. He always did.

She never really minded—

“Whatcha wearin’ under that hoodie?”

Never-mind.

She paused mid-fold. Blinked. Looked over her shoulder, one brow arched. “I beg your pardon?”

His grin curved slow, wicked. “You heard me.”

There it was—the look. Those half-lidded eyes and cocky little tilt of his chin. Every time he looked like that, trouble wasn’t far behind.

“Whatcha wearin’ under that hoodie?” he repeated—teasing, shameless.

She turned back around, shaking her head. “None of your business, you perv.”

Behind her, she heard a low hum. Felt the weight of his stare like a hand pressed between her shoulder blades.

“That means it’s somethin’ cute.”

She clicked her tongue and dropped the shirt into her lap, spinning halfway toward him with mock exasperation.

But he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and the shift made his shoulders flex like he knew what he was doing. He probably did.

“There’s somethin’ real hot about domestic stuff,” he murmured.

Her throat tightened. The tips of her ears burned. She did not ogle the way his forearms rested against his thighs, or the way a bead of water rolled from his collarbone down his chest. No sir.

…

She looked.

Damn it.

His eyes sparkled like he caught her in the act.

"’M bein’ serious,” he drawled, tone dipping lower. “You sittin’ there, all cosy with that serious little look on yer face… it’s real cute.”

She wanted to play it off. Wanted to roll her eyes and scoff like usual.

But he was shirtless. And radiating warmth. And sitting right there.

And the playlist in the background had switched to some jazzy love song that made everything feel a little too cinematic.

She tried not to look again. She really did.

“I’m just sayin’,” he continued, “yer out here foldin' laundry, and suddenly I’m considerin’ things I shouldn’t be considerin’.”

Her heart jumped.

“Atsumu—”

“You’re turnin’ me on.”

She launched a sock at his face.

He caught it easily and flashed her one of those stupidly attractive grins.

"Ya look flustered, sweetheart," he cooed. "Don't tell me my flirtin's actually gettin' to ya this time."

This time she did scoff, half-hearted at best. Turned back to the laundry like she urgently needed the distraction. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly into you,” he shot back.

She hated the way her blush gave her away.

He laughed softly, the sound making her chest flutter more than it should have.

Then, gentler this time: “Seriously though. Ya look real cute like this. All domestic and stuff. Makes me wanna mess it up.”

Her fingers curled around a pair of joggers—his, naturally. “You’re all talk.”

She felt his foot nudge her lower back.

"You want me to prove it?"

She swatted him away without turning. “Stop pestering me. If 'Samu gets home before I’m done, he’s gonna think I’ve been slacking.”

"Or," Atsumu chirped, sounding far too pleased with himself, "ya could tell him the truth and say ya were too busy eye-bangin’ me instead of doin’ yer little chores."

She turned, unamused. “Says you. I’m not the one getting turned on by someone folding a few shirts.”

He leaned back, stretching like a smug house cat, arms draped over the couch with a lazy kind of swagger.

“Nah, but admit it—ya like the attention.”

She narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I don't.”

“Liar.”

They stared at each other across the chaos of socks and damp joggers, tension simmering somewhere between playful and awfully close to flirty.

And then—

The front door creaked open.

Crap.

“You still not done?”

Osamu’s voice floated in from the doorway, heavy with suspicion. He stepped into the living room, keys hitting the side table with a clatter, a couple grocery bags slung over one arm. He paused halfway through toeing off his shoes, eyebrows raised as he scanned the laundry chaos still strewn across the rug.

(Y/n) froze mid-fold.

Osamu tutted like a disappointed parent. "C'mon (y/n), I've seen ya fold quicker than that."

She pouted dramatically, throwing a pointed finger in Atsumu’s direction like a child tattling on her sibling. “It’s his fault!”

Osamu gave his brother a flat look. “What’d he do this time?”

Atsumu, lounging back on the couch like he’d never done anything wrong a day in his life, cocked a brow. “Yeah, (y/n). What did I do?”

She glared at him.

He winked.

Osamu’s gaze flicked to the couch—and immediately narrowed on the damp spots soaking into the cushions.

“You absolute dumbass,” he muttered, striding over to whack his twin upside the head with the towel. “Get yer wet hair off the furniture and go dry it before I throw yer whole ass in the goddamn dryer.”

“Alright, alright! Jeez.” Atsumu got up, rubbing his head like he’d been assaulted. “No need to get violent.”

He shuffled off toward the hallway, grumbling under his breath like a scolded puppy.

(Y/n) watched him go, biting back a laugh. She lifted a hand to her mouth, failing to hide her amusement behind her sleeve.

He caught the sound just before turning the corner, stopped mid-step, and turned to shoot her a betrayed look.

She smiled sweetly—and blew him a kiss.

Atsumu rolled his eyes.

Osamu, still standing nearby, huffed a laugh through his nose and turned her head back towards her assigned task. “Alright, back to work, miss. Ya can flirt with my brother after the laundry’s done.”

(Y/n) laughed despite herself, not even bothering to defend her honour as she turned back toward the basket. “Yes sir, sorry sir.”

Osamu smirked. “That’s more like it.”

The room settled into a quiet warmth—playlist still humming in the background, laundry pile slightly smaller, the air still charged with something light and playful.

(Y/n) smiled to herself as she folded the next shirt, fingers moving on autopilot.

Atsumu returned not too long after, already radiating mischief like he physically couldn't help himself.

He grinned her way and she shook her head.

Perhaps she did like the attention after all.

[ottocre]

˚✶ * apple bottom jeans w/ atsumu

m.list / wc: 375

    "oh- like the song?" someone asks from beside you, barely passing through the thick noise of your headphones and the shuffling of feet down your university campus' hallways. 

  furrowing your eyebrows, you turn around to see who was speaking. standing there is atsumu miya, hand grappling at his backpack's strap. the other presses a volleyball against his side. his eyes widen as you look back at him, lips forming into a straight line, "sorry, i was thinking out loud. but it's your shorts, right? 'apple bottom jeans'."

  you had never spoken to atsumu miya before. never having been in the same groups or classes before. his reputation solely connected with his volleyball career and 'attempt' at being a physical therapy student (mentions of multiple relationships seem to come up too). biting your lip, it takes you a moment to remember what shorts you were wearing. the small apple patch on the back pocket nearly erased from your memory.

  "oh, no it has nothing to do with the song," pursing your lips, you look back to your phone, waiting impatiently for your friend to text you back.

  he says something, you can tell it's him despite the loud music playing through your headphones, the way his inflection just seems to worm its way into your ears. looking back at him, you raise an eyebrow. "what'd you say?" you pull one of your earbuds out, eyes wide.

  "just that it looks really cool... matches your shoes and everything," atsumu shrugs his shoulders, hands stuffed into his pockets. he has a sullen look on his face, like he's not saying everything he wants to say, or he just can't get it to sound exactly like he wanted.

  nodding your head, you give him a short smile. "thanks, your volleyball has a neat design, you just carry it around everywhere you go?" you question, not quite meaning to continue any lengthy conversation with him, especially knowing his reputation. 

  the corners of his lips turn upwards, hands fiddling with the unique patterned ball. "no, but if it inspires you to have a conversation with me, then maybe i should," as soon as the sentence passes through your ears, you realize why he has such a reputation. he's just too much of a charmer.