#miya atsumu

[eeveebooart]

MIYA TWINS 🦊🦊

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

“tsumu, c’mon. you know you can’t just sit here all day.”

atsumu lifted his head from the counter, fixing you with the biggest, most ridiculous pout you’d ever seen. his eyes were wide, downright pitiful, and paired with the way his lower lip jutted out, he looked like a kicked puppy. you snorted, shaking your head as you leaned forward against the counter, resting your chin in your palm.

the shop wasn’t packed, but it was never truly quiet either. soft conversations filled the space, the hum of the kitchen blending into the ambient noise. yet somehow, atsumu made it easy to forget all of that—probably because he was draped over the counter like a housecat demanding attention.

“why not? it’s my day off,” he whined, stretching his arms out in front of him dramatically. then, he shot you a lopsided grin. “thought ya liked havin’ me around, angel.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the amused twitch of your lips. “i do. just not when you’re takin’ up space and bein’ a pain.”

“yer so cruel,” atsumu sighed, tilting his head to look at you, expression exaggeratedly wounded. “where’s the love? the appreciation?”

before you could retort, osamu’s voice cut through the space. “he botherin’ ya again?”

you glanced over to see him standing behind the prep station, arms crossed, wearing the same unimpressed look he always had when dealing with his brother’s antics.

“always,” you replied, lips quirking.

“unbelievable,” atsumu muttered, shaking his head. then, before you could react, he suddenly leaned in, his face dangerously close to yours.

“tsumu—”

he moved fast, pressing the lightest, quickest kiss to your cheek before you could pull away.

your brain short-circuited for a second, heat creeping up your neck. but atsumu just grinned, smug as ever, leaning back before you could properly process what just happened.

“that’s what ya get for teasin’ me,” he said, voice dripping with satisfaction.

“oi, don’t go kissin’ people across my counter.” osamu grumbled, though he didn’t sound particularly surprised.

you, on the other hand, were still recovering. “you’re insufferable.” you muttered, turning away to busy yourself with something—anything—before he could see just how flustered you were.

but from the way he chuckled, you knew he’d already noticed.

[vertejay]

MY MAAAANNNNNNN UHGHHGHGHGGHHHHHHH TY SAHRI MY BELOVED

[msbysuperfan]

lost bag meet-cute...? (pt.1)

miya atsumu x gender neutral reader, college au (some things altered from canon but nothing really important plot wise), fluff, attempted slow burn, osasuna sort of implied

next

likes/rbs are appreciated!

[oldmama]

[haikyu-mp4]

Overlooked – Nishinoya x reader wc 799 – f!reader, brother!Atsumu, brother!Osamu

Family functions at the Miya household were already causing quite a ruckus, and adding one Nishinoya to the mix was bound to make things rowdier.

You were lounging in the living room, catching up with some family before dinner and making sure that everyone had been properly introduced to Nishinoya. Introducing him as your boyfriend made you grin with pride, but you could only ignore your brother’s gaze for so long.

Not Osamu, he was in the kitchen helping your parents prepare dinner like the angel he is (he’s stealing the food).

“That sounds like so much fun, you guys,” Atsumu cooed after you finished telling your aunt about you and Nishinoya’s most recent journey to New Zealand. “I wish I could live without goals or ambitions, it sounds so freeing. Just travellin’ until ya run out of money.”

Even as you pinned the blonde with an angry look, he completely ignored you in favour of leaning towards your boyfriend.

“It’s too bad ya decided to stop playing volleyball. Ya used to have some potential.”

“Tsumu,” you warned.

Nishinoya squeezed your hand which he had intertwined with his, lifting the other to point cheekily at Atsumu. “Bet you were relieved I wouldn’t be in the league to receive your new hybrid serves.”

“Relieved?” Atsumu huffed in annoyance at your boyfriend’s positive turn. “Would have loved to see that terrified look on yer face again.”

Instead of giving Atsumu the kind of discussion he wanted, and before you could even retaliate on his behalf, Nishinoya turned his approach to the rest of the family members in the room with a bright look in his eyes. “Atsumu and I played against each other in high school and it was one of the first times a serve had me genuinely worried. Luckily, my team had my back when I needed them.”

“Not exactly how I would’ve told that story, but…” You drove your elbow hard into your brother’s side.

Needless to say, Nishinoya had your whole family charmed despite Atsumu’s continuous attempts at undermining his efforts.

Still, you felt the need to address this. He’s your baby brother, after all.

“Hey,” you greeted Atsumu later that evening, in the privacy of the small children’s bench by the old volleyball net in the backyard. “What’s botherin’ ya, buddy?”

He looked down at where he picked some dry skin from his arm, shrugging his shoulders. “Nothin’.”

You smiled. This was exactly what you expected. With an encouraging hum, you scooted closer and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Come ooon, tell your big sis.”

Atsumu sighed, taking a couple more seconds but eventually opening up. “It‘s just… no one here cares that I’m literally a professional volleyball player,” he said first, taking a quick break to confirm that you wouldn’t laugh at him.

“What makes ya think that?”

“It’s always Osamu and his successful restaurants, y/n and her great travels, and now…”

You hummed, glancing over at where you could see Osamu and Nishinoya talking animatedly inside, sharing a plate of leftovers from dinner. “You feel overlooked?”

With his little sniff, you knew you had struck the right chord. “Mhm.” You picked your head up, slinging an arm over his shoulder and shaking him a bit.

“I can’t really speak for the rest of the family, but you know me and your brother are your biggest fans, right?“

He didn’t answer, but you knew he was listening from his affirming nods.

“Sure, we already knew you would play professionally after high school. And yes, we already knew you would get an offer with the team you wanted because you’re just that good.”

You felt satisfied with the ego boost you had given him and ruffled his hair roughly.

“But you don’t need to punch down at my supercool boyfriend!”

Atsumu cursed at you in complaint, pushing you away way too lightly for it to make you move. You giggled loudly, a big fan of how like himself Atsumu still was.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Think we could still get along?”

You snorted, pointing a thumb over your shoulder. “Oh, Yu? He thinks you’re the coolest, he got us all new merch for your next game.”

Atsumu’s eyes welled with tears, something nostalgic washing over him and urging him to crush you in a hug. “I’ll dedicate my best serve to him!”

You groaned in complaint but didn’t fight the squish. “Good to see ya back on track, ya big baby.”

“What’s he cryin’ for now?” Osamu yelled from the door, so you and Atsumu simultaneously flipped him off. “Fine, just know ma’ pulled out yer baby album for Noya!”

“Shit,” you cursed, getting up and gesturing for Atsumu to follow. “Come on, stop whining.”

“Yer so mean to me.”

“It’s good for ya.”

masterlist

requested by dearest @cottonlemonade for my event, anything for you <3

[noorpersona]

Rivalry: Atsumu

It had been years of this.

Years of Atsumu Miya being an unrelenting, aggravating presence in your life.

From the moment you met, he had been insufferable. Smug, fiercely competitive, and persistently irksome, he thrived on pushing every button you had. Every interaction with him was a battle—whether it was a disagreement over training schedules, a critique of his technique, or a casual observation about his erratic setting. He never let anything slide, twisting every word into an argument, every comment into an opportunity to outmaneuver you.

The worst part? You never backed down.

If he provoked, you retaliated. If he smirked, you sneered. He could infuriate you faster than anyone else, and he knew it—and he reveled in it.

And now, in your third year as the Inarizaki team manager, you had mastered the art of tolerating Atsumu Miya—

Until tonight.

Tonight, he’d finally gone too far.

The entire team had long since caught on to your dynamic.

Atsumu didn’t merely annoy you—he made a sport out of it.

If you walked into practice? He was already waiting, arms crossed, a cocky grin stretching across his face as he prepared some quip guaranteed to get under your skin.

“Yer late, manager,” he’d say, despite the fact that you never were.

If you so much as tried to correct something? He’d smirk, feigning surprise. “Oh? Maybe I should just hand ya my setter position, huh?”

And the worst part? The others loved it.

Osamu, Futakuchi, and even Kita occasionally leaned back and observed your fights like a live-action drama, amused by how predictably you two clashed.

“Ya know, at this point, I think ya like the attention,” Atsumu teased one afternoon, casually tossing a volleyball between his hands. “Yer always gettin’ worked up over me.”

You scoffed, arms crossed. “Oh, please. The day I enjoy anything about you is the day hell freezes over.”

Futakuchi nudged Osamu. “Tension’s thick today.”

Osamu smirked. “Give it five minutes. They’ll be yellin’.”

And five minutes later, Atsumu had said exactly the right thing to set you off, and the shouting commenced.

Practice had gone as usual, with only a few sharp remarks exchanged between you and Atsumu before it was over. You were exhausted, your muscles aching from running errands for the team all day, your patience wearing thin. All you wanted was to head home, collapse into bed, and forget that Miya Atsumu existed for a few blessed hours.

The team packed up in the club room, their chatter filling the space as they slung their bags over their shoulders. You barely noticed that Atsumu wasn’t among them as they filed out, too focused on getting the final tasks done so you could lock up and leave.

But when you walked into the gym, your plans crumbled.

Atsumu was still there, alone, setting balls into the air with effortless precision. His expression was intense, brows drawn together in concentration, jaw tight, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. The only sounds in the gym were the rhythmic thud of the volleyball meeting his hands and the slight squeak of his sneakers against the polished floor as he adjusted his stance.

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. Of course. Of course he couldn’t just leave like a normal person.

His shirt clung to his body, damp with sweat, emphasizing the broad set of his shoulders and the way his forearms flexed every time he made contact with the ball. He moved with precision, power behind every motion, muscles tensing and releasing like a well-oiled machine. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good. Infuriatingly good.

But you didn’t care about that right now.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and sighed. "Seriously, Miya? Go home."

He barely looked at you before responding. "Suck my dick."

You scoffed. "You wish. Now pack up, or I’m locking you in here."

He ignored you, setting another perfect ball into the air. That was the last straw. Marching onto the court, you grabbed the nearest volleyball and chucked it at him. He caught it effortlessly, smirking.

"You gonna help, or just be a pain in my ass?" he taunted.

You turned on your heel and stormed toward the supply closet, yanking the door open with more force than necessary. The overhead light buzzed faintly as you stepped inside, the scent of disinfectant and old volleyballs filling your nose. Without hesitation, you grabbed a laundry basket full of towels and shoved it into Atsumu’s chest the moment you returned.

“You’re gonna help clean up tonight,” you said sharply, your voice edged with exhaustion and frustration.

Atsumu scoffed, letting the weight settle against his chest. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You stayed late to practice, and I have the keys to the gym. That means you’re packing up before I lock up for the night.”

Atsumu smirked, that lazy, infuriating smirk that made your blood boil. "But you're so much better at those kinds of things, ya know? We all have our strengths."

“Oh? And what's yours?”

He shrugged. “I score points.”

You wanted to strangle him. “I mean off the court, Miya. You brainless egomaniac.”

That smirk widened. "Damn, sweetheart, say it like ya mean it."

Your entire body tensed. If there was one thing—one thing—that set your blood boiling faster than anything, it was that nickname. The way he said it, like it was his own personal joke, a word meant to patronize, to needle at you in a way that no one else dared. It was never affectionate, never playful—not in the way others might say it. No, when Atsumu called you sweetheart, it was dripping with arrogance, a smirk wrapped around syllables meant to get under your skin.

And god, did it work.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, jaw tightening so hard it ached. "Don't. Call. Me. That."

His smirk only grew, as if he had been waiting for that exact reaction. "What? Don't like it? Thought ya might warm up to it by now."

"I'd rather set myself on fire."

Atsumu chuckled, slow and smug, like he'd already won this round. "Now that is dramatic."

You threw a towel at his face, and he caught it effortlessly, his smirk widening. "Temper, temper," he taunted, shaking his head like you were the one being unreasonable. "Y'know, if ya wanted me to get all sweaty cleanin' up, ya coulda just asked nicely." You only roll your eyes in disgust.

“Take those to the supply closet. And don’t start with your usual bullshit, just do what I say for once.”

Atsumu tilted his head, his eyes glinting with something sharp. “Bossy.”

You inhaled sharply, jaw clenching. The way he looked at you—like he thrived on how easily he could rile you up—made your skin prickle. “Miya, I swear to—”

“Fine, fine,” he drawled, rolling his eyes as he slung the towels over his shoulder. His smirk deepened as he eyed you, a flicker of amusement dancing behind those infuriatingly sharp eyes. "Must be exhausting bein’ so uptight all the time. Ya ever tried just... relaxin'? Oh, wait, guess that'd require ya to actually remove that stick from  yer ass."

Your blood boiled instantly, a sharp sting of irritation spreading through your chest. Exhaustion and frustration swirled together into something combustible, something that snapped your already frayed patience. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you fought the urge to throw something harder than a towel at his smug, insufferable face. Without thinking, you stomped past him, heading into the supply closet, letting out a frustrated breath as you grabbed another piece of equipment to throw at him if necessary.

"Maybe if your setting was as reliable as your big mouth, I wouldn’t have to waste my breath on you,” you spat, voice cold and cutting.

Atsumu went rigid. His smirk flattened into something unreadable, but his eyes—those sharp, burning eyes—flashed with something dark, something livid.

In an instant, he was storming after you. Before you could react, he followed you into the supply closet, his movements sharp and full of barely restrained anger. The door slammed behind him, the echo bouncing off the walls.

"The fuck did you just say to me?" His voice was low, lethal, his usual teasing edge completely gone.

You whirled around, arms crossing over your chest. "You heard me, Miya. Maybe if you focused on actually being consistent instead of running your mouth, you wouldn't have to work overtime trying to convince people you're the best."

His nostrils flared, jaw clenched so tight you could practically hear his teeth grinding. "You think I got this far by bein' inconsistent? By bein' a fuckin' joke?"

"I think you got this far because you talk so much shit, people actually start to believe it," you bit back. "But I'm not like the rest of your fangirls, Miya. Your act doesn’t work on me."

Atsumu let out a low, humorless laugh, stepping closer. Too close. "Ya really think you know me, huh?" His voice was dangerous now, quiet and sharp like a blade pressed just beneath your skin. "Yer full of shit."

"And you're full of yourself."

The air was thick, charged with something volatile, something unstable. His hands were curled into fists, his breath coming in sharp exhales. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his fury rolling off in waves.

You scoffed in disgust, shaking your head as a bitter smirk pulled at your lips. "You're pathetic."

Atsumu’s nostrils flared, his jaw tightening dangerously, but you were already turning away, reaching for the door handle to get as far away from him as possible.

Then your stomach dropped.

The knob refused to turn.

Atsumu frowned. "The hell are ya doin’?"

You twisted the knob again, harder. Still nothing.

Your throat went dry. "The door is locked."

Atsumu snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, sure it is." He reached out, confidently twisting the handle—

Nothing.

Atsumu frowned, twisting harder. Still nothing.

Silence.

Then, without missing a beat—

“Yeah, like I didn’t try that,” you deadpanned.

Atsumu’s scowl deepened, his frustration crackling in the air between you. "You’ve gotta be fuckin' kidding me. This is all your fault."

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. "Oh, right, because I totally planned to lock myself in a closet with you of all people."

"Yer mouth sure makes it sound like ya did." His voice was low, edged with something sharp. "Maybe ya just wanted me all to yourself."

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Please. If I wanted something all to myself, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you."

Atsumu took a step closer, his presence closing in on you like a storm. "Keep talkin’, princess. Let’s see if ya can keep that smart mouth runnin’ when we’re stuck in here all night."

"Oh, fuck you, Miya," you snapped, stepping forward to meet his glare head-on. "You are without a doubt the most infuriating, self-obsessed asshole I have ever met."

His lips curled into a sneer. "And you’re the most uptight, high-strung pain in the ass I’ve ever met."

"Oh yeah? Well, at least I don’t have to spend every waking second convincing everyone I’m the best. News flash—if you actually were, you wouldn’t have to try so hard."

His eyes darkened, his entire body stiffening at your words. "You wanna talk about trying too hard? How ‘bout ya take a fuckin’ look in the mirror? Always actin’ like ya hate me, but yer always up in my business. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think ya like this."

You scoffed, tilting your head in disbelief. "God, you’re delusional."

"And you’re a fuckin’ hypocrite." He was even closer now, his breath hot, his voice tight with rage. "You always act like ya can’t stand me, but here ya are, pushin’ up against me like ya wanna make this somethin’ else."

The worst part?

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

Your chests were nearly brushing, your ragged breaths intermingling. Your skin was burning, your hands clenched at your sides, every inch of you wound too tight. The anger, the frustration, the way he always got under your skin—it was all-consuming.

And then, suddenly, neither of you were talking anymore.

Atsumu’s mouth was on yours before you could process it, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was just as furious as your fights. You yanked him down by the collar, fingers tangling into the damp fabric of his shirt, pulling him in hard enough to hurt. He groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist, pressing you back against the closet shelves as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was years of pent-up aggression and frustration, a battle neither of you wanted to win. Teeth clashed, hands grabbed, nails dug into skin. The heat between you was unbearable, suffocating, and neither of you had the willpower to pull away.

Atsumu nipped at your bottom lip, his breath hot against your mouth as he muttered, "Knew ya wanted me."

Shut up, Miya." You bit back.

And then you kissed him again, drowning out whatever cocky response he had left.

Atsumu wasn’t satisfied with just kissing you. His frustration, his irritation, his hunger bled into every movement as he pushed forward, backing you up until your spine hit the cold surface of the supply closet door. The impact barely registered, not when his hands were gripping at your waist, fingers digging into your sides like he was trying to mark you, claim some kind of dominance even here.

You gasped against his mouth, the moment of vulnerability only spurring him on. His lips left yours for half a second—just long enough for him to smirk. “Told ya,” he murmured, voice husky, breath hot against your skin. “You just needed me to shut ya up properly.”

You barely had time to react before he was kissing you again, harder, more desperate. Your hands found their way to his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck and pulling—a move that ripped a deep, guttural groan from his throat. The sound shot straight down your spine, heat pooling in your stomach, making your breath hitch.

His hands slid down, gripping the backs of your thighs, and without a second of hesitation, you wrapped your legs around his waist. He held you effortlessly, as if supporting your weight meant nothing to him. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath your ear, making you shudder. He lingered there, his teeth scraping before his mouth latched onto your skin with deliberate pressure. You barely registered the sensation, too caught up in the heat of the moment, too focused on the way his body pressed against yours. But his smirk against your neck said otherwise—like he knew exactly what he was doing, leaving his mark before trailing his lips back to yours.

The warmth of his touch burned through the thin fabric of your clothes, his fingers pressing into your skin in a way that made your head spin. His hands started to wander, moving up beneath your shirt, his touch searing—

And then the door burst open.

Atsumu lost his balance. With a startled grunt, he stumbled forward, dragging you with him as you both spilled out of the closet and onto the hard gym floor.

“What the hell?!”

You barely had time to register the situation before a voice rang out above you.

“The fuck are you two doin’ in here?”

Your eyes shot up to see the janitor, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, face twisted in the most unimpressed expression you had ever seen.

Silence.

Neither you nor Atsumu moved. You were still on top of him, his hands still on your thighs, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders. The position was beyond compromising.

The janitor raised an eyebrow. “I ain’t cleanin’ up after this.”

Atsumu let out a breathless chuckle beneath you, his smirk returning full force. “Guess we got caught, huh, sweetheart?”You shoved him off you so hard he hit the floor with a thud, scrambling to your feet, face burning with embarrassment. “Shut up, Miya!”

[rivvszn]

honestly it is infinitely more funnier for me to imagine that nobody has ever perceived atsumu as cocky despite him trying so hard. like first meeting he gives people that hooded eye stare and makes a sassy comment but he forgets he's usually surrounded by great volleyball players so two seconds later he's staring at them from across the net all starry-eyed and vibrating with excitement. the people at his school regularly see him getting his ass beat by osamu and the only reason they let him do that hand gesture thing at matches is because he pouts for DAYS if he doesn't get his cool™ moment. he wants to be one of those senpais who command respect forcefully but kita asks him to be responsible and he gets so excited at seeing new faces anyway that he just pampers the fuck out of his juniors, gaining respect in a completely unintended way. he probably fails to bully kids on roblox because he's sensitive as fuck and complains to aran when anyone insults him. whenever he acts up suna threatens to post embarrassing pics of him. he's one-third of the idiot msby trio. he has somehow annoyed half the japan team and iwaizumi into adopting him. he's probably forced by osamu to dress as an onigiri mascot once a month to promote the restaurant. basically let miya atsumu be a himbo sunshine loved by everyone this man is a loser omfg.

[bluemotifofsleep]

OMG i just remembered that in the soul eater universe, everyone has their own unique soul that looks like them. i am totally going to draw each of the haikyuu characters customized souls OMG i’m so excited.

like imagine this but a grumpy iwaizumi soul ORR a super happy spiky bokuto soul. aaaaaaaaahhhhh.

[ithildinwrites]

very much a fan of passenger princess kiyoomi x atsumu who drives with one hand on the wheel and the other leaned outside the window basically, its rolled down and the wind is blowing in his hair. he’s showing kiyoomi around hyogo. i read a fic once where he had an old ass truck and i LOVE the idea of that so much

[iraskts]

messy sketchbook skts

[kkumri]

redraws from the olympics! 🏐🏅🤺🤸🏻‍♂️

[hanavbara]

retro haikyuu!! 🧡🏐✨ the complete series!

prints available 💫

[timeofdeathnote]

Japan playing the Haikyuu!! theme song after beating Argentina in volleyball is so iconic

[riddlesrose]

"is he single!?" your attention is drawn behind you, to where a group of insignificant chatterboxes cluster together like they're trying to start a mob. their quips died down instantly when someone in the group shushed the rest and you released the breath you were holding. you return your attention to your friends in front of you.

a few minutes pass and another comment catches your ear, "i mean, there's a leech on his side, but other than that, just look! he's so picture perfect." you fight the urge to crane your neck around, to stare directly into the heart of the group with piercing eyes, to let them know that they are anything but quiet. all the while hoping they're not talking about your boyfriend, who's arm is wrapped comfortably around your waist, holding you ever so close. like a leech.

you snicker to yourself at the backwards use of their ugly nickname, gaining the attention of your boyfriend, who asks what's so funny, and comments that no one said anything worth laughing over.

"oh, no reason." you smile as you wrap an arm around to rest on his back. what he can't see is that you folded all fingers down but the middle one so that you're flipping off the group of prattlers stood behind him.

you lean into his side more and press a sweet kiss onto his cheek, he retorts by turning you back to him and pressing a lasting kiss to your lips as muted gasps and scoffs were heard. someone in the group attempts to silence their peers but their calls fall upon deaf ears. "whatever, let's go."

you relax against him as the group disperses, a content sigh escape your lips.

a moment passes, before your boyfriend leans to whisper, "were they bothering you?"

"what? no!" yes. they were annoying. is what you meant.

your boyfriend kisses your temple, "sure. oh, and you're not a leech, my love." you turn your face away, hiding the heat that rushes to your cheeks at the fact he cracked your code so quick.

if your friends could look any more grossed out at the sickly sweet pda, they probably would. but you don't care, your boyfriend is the sweetest 🤍

satoru gojo, suguru geto, tooru oikawa, atsumu miya, tetsuro kuroo, vil schoenheit, malleus draconia, kaeya alberich, diluc ragnvindr, kazuha kaedehara, ayato kamisato, jing yuan, argenti, tenya iida, ejiro kirishima, & your favourite

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