#miya atsumu x reader

[qardenofeden]

you cheer and clap from the stands as atsumu miya secures the last point of the game, finishing the set and winning the match for his team. the crowd roars, his school’s chant echoing throughout the venue. atsumu’s teammates pool around him as they celebrate their win, the boys forming a circle within themselves.

but his mind is occupied with the pretty girl he sees in the corner of his eye— you. he pulls away, muttering a quick “give me a second” to no one in particular.

he walks to you, head held high and he can’t help but puff his chest and shoulders a little bit. just a little.

“what’s a girl like you doin’ all alone?” he asks, and some of his teammates a few feet away yell. honestly, you’re not even sure if they’re cheering him on or booing him, but you do hear a whistle from behind.

light breaths of air escape your lips as you giggle, “i’m here for my boyfriend.”

and he scoffs, the smug bastard. “i don’t see him anywhere. looks like you’re all mine for tonight.” calloused hands reach over to you, his arms flexing subtly at the tenseness built up over the game.

“hmm, i don’t know…” you look down, swaying ever so slightly as you put up a bashful pretense.

the blonde laughs, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he traps you in an embrace. “you ‘nd your games,” he says, kissing your forehead.

you squeal and pull away to no avail, his large arms wrapping around you like a blanket. “you started it! ‘tsumu, you’re all sweaty!” you drag out the last syllable, half teasing. it was true, his jersey was halfway wet like he’d been caught in the rain.

“shhh, stop resisting. your boyfriend might see.” atsumu teases, all while continuing to pepper you with kisses. the noise from the crowd and his teammates are blocked out, atsumu’s world limiting itself to you and him only.

a pretty girl and a championship. looks like atsumu’s going home with two victories tonight.

bokuto post-match &&& ushijima post-match

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 ⋆˙⟡

miya atsumu x f!reader

you go on a date with a guy in your major. meanwhile, atsumu finds himself increasingly upset about it.

part six 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.

"Y/N, have ya seen my knee pads?" Atsumu shouted thirty minutes before he was expected to be at volleyball practice.

"What?" you shouted back from across the apartment. Atsumu scrubbed his hair out in frustration.

"My knee pads!" he repeated, a little louder this time. "Have ya seen 'em?"

After an excruciatingly long second, you responded, "No, I haven't seen your note pad! What does it look like?"

"For god's sake," he murmured, storming across the apartment and barging through your open bedroom door. "I said — "

The words died on his lips when he caught sight of you.

You glanced up at him from your small desktop mirror, a tube of lipstick in one hand and a facial tissue in the other. You were dressed in a burgundy baby doll dress with ruffled sleeves, and your hair fell around your shoulders in gentle waves.

"Sorry, what did you say?" you asked innocently, clicking the tube shut and turning to face him. Upon seeing his frazzled expression, you asked, "What? Do I have lipstick on my teeth?"

Atsumu blinked once. Twice. It was as if the tiny person at the control panel in his brain had died.

"M-My knee pads. I can't find 'em anywhere," he managed after a while. Then, because he was flustered and incredibly stupid, "Ya goin' to church or somethin'?"

"On a Tuesday?" you retorted, fixing your lipstick in the mirror. "No, but I am going to dinner with this guy from my world lit class."

"I'm sorry — what?"

"I thought I told you."

"Uh, no ya didn't."

"I definitely did," you argued, plunking your lipstick into the nicest purse you owned. "We were sitting on the couch yesterday watching The Bachelor — "

"Well, see, that was yer first mistake. Ya know I lock in on Bachelor Mondays." He perched his hands on his hips. "What's this guy's name?"

"Jun."

"Like the month?"

"Phonetically speaking, yes," you said amusedly. "We got into this heated debate about The Paper Menagerie and its take on familial relationships, and he pulled me aside after class and asked if I'd like to do it again sometime."

"So he asked ya out?"

You nodded. "We're going to grab drunken noodles and ice cream, which will probably fuck up my digestive system for the next two days, but I don't care."

Atsumu didn't know what bothered him more — the fact that you got all dolled up for this guy, or the fact that he had no fucking clue what The Paper Menagerie was.

Either way, he shouldn't have been so surprised. You were pretty. Smart. Way too smart. Someone was bound to notice.

He just didn't know you'd be equally as interested.

"Besides, now that you're back at volleyball practice twice a week, I no longer have anyone to hang out with," you pointed out. "How are you feeling about your first day back?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "Fine. I'ma treat it like any other day. Go to practice, run my drills. Grab my green smoothie from Sip Happens."

"Love Sip Happens," you reassured him. A soft smile blossomed across your features. "I'm really proud of you, by the way."

He scoffed. "Why?"

"Because," you said, as if it should have been obvious. "Because you went through the shittiest break-up imaginable. So much so that you had to take a volleyball sabbatical and hang out with me for a whole month. But you dealt with it."

"Right," Atsumu breathed, shaking his head. That's what he should have been bothered by. His break-up with Akemi. His back-stabbing best friend. His month-long hiatus from the sport he loved.

Though, if he were being completely honest, he was getting better at recognizing the past for what it was. In fact, the more time he spent here with you — watching The Bachelor, eating dinner together, distracting you while you wrote — the less he ached for the life he once had. The more prepared he felt to step back on the court and prove himself worthy of being there.

He wouldn't admit that to you, though. Instead, he opted for the safer truth.

"I couldn't have done it without ya."

You frowned at the sudden sincerity in his voice, the emotion it stirred within you.

"Alright, get outta here," Atsumu said, jerking his chin towards your bedroom door. "Go talk about paper menageries or foreign films or whatever the hell y'all English majors like to yap about." Without thinking, he added, "But if he tries anything, I will break his face."

"Oh, I'm sure you will," you chuckled, slinging your purse over a shoulder and following him out. "By the way, you knee pads are in your gym bag already. I found them in the laundry room."

"Thanks, Y/N. Yer a lifesaver."

"I know," you said sweetly before closing the front door.

Sure enough, when Atsumu unzipped his gym bag, his knee pads were there, tucked safely inside. And beside them? A pack of blue raspberry sour straws. His favorite.

He peeled off the yellow sticky note you'd left on the packaging.

Good luck on your first day back! ♡

Sucking in a sharp breath, Atsumu tilted his head towards the ceiling, massaged the inner corners of his eyes, and tried not to tear up.

It had been a long time since you'd gone on a date.

It was strange — being wanted like that. Putting so much effort into your appearance for someone you barely knew. In fact, as you'd pulled the dress from the back of your closet and applied a little more makeup than usual, you couldn't distinguish the feeling in your stomach as butterflies or plain, old-fashioned anxiety.

Not to mention the look on Atsumu's face when he'd seen you — it was as if you'd grown a second head. Did he find your dress too frilly? Your blush too over-the-top? Did he think you completely pathetic for trying so hard?

"Earth to Y/N," Jun droned, waving his chopsticks in an attempt to get your attention.

"Yes!" you piped up, the clamoring sounds of the Thai restaurant flooding back into your senses. Across the table, Jun looked at you expectantly.

"Sorry," you apologized, dabbing the corners of your mouth with a napkin. "What did you ask me again?"

Your date sat back in his chair and took a swig of his sake. "I asked you what you've been writing recently."

"Right," you nodded. "Well, I just started outlining my creative writing honors thesis, and I think I'm going with my tell-tale genre."

"Which is?"

You poked your half-eaten drunken noodles with your chopsticks and debated your response.

"...smutty romantic comedy?"

"Wow," Jun chuckled into his ochoko cup. "I did not take you for a smutty romantic comedy kind of girl."

You shot him a bemused smile. "What does that mean?"

"Well, based off our heated discussion in Professor Connelly's class, I pegged you as someone with more sophisticated taste."

Ouch. You folded your arms across your chest. "Just because I write about sex and relationships doesn't mean I have unsophisticated taste."

"Of course not," he followed-up quickly. "But, come on. You aren't exactly winning a Pulitzer Prize with a genre like that."

"Well, maybe I don't want to," you clipped, your voice sharper than usual. Had he always been this condescending? This rude? You folded your hands in your lap and asked, "Why, what have you been writing recently?"

Jun put his chopsticks down and began gesturing in the air like a tenured professor. "Think Ernest Hemingway meets Flannery O'Connor..."

For the next fifteen minutes, Jun droned on about his 'disruptive' novel idea — something about an unbathed farm child, a long, winding road, and several metaphors about the journey within.

Meanwhile, you wondered what it would be like if Atsumu were here instead. The jokes he'd make, the questions he'd ask. If Atsumu were here, he'd press you for details about your thesis outline. Tease you for being a closeted freak before taking your story ideas seriously.

He wouldn't insult you. Or undermine you.

He would accept you. Just as you were.

You pictured him. Sitting across from you with his bleach blonde hair and lopsided grin and dimples you wished you could pinch off his cheeks. Asking for the check with an easy lift of his hand. Using that same hand to reach for your knee underneath the table —

"Ready for dessert?" your waiter asked. You nearly jumped out of your seat.

"Just the check. Thanks," Jun replied, plopping his napkin atop his empty plate. Once the waiter was out of earshot, he asked, "You still down for ice cream?"

You pursed your lips to one side before saying, "Actually, I think I'm going to call it."

"What? What happened?" he drawled, reaching underneath the table for your knee. You writhed away from his touch.

"Dunno," you shrugged, eyes empty. Tone flat. "I guess I just don't have very good taste."

You paid for your half of the meal and left.

"You were on fire today, man," Aran told Atsumu after practice, clapping him on the back in the men's locker room. "Welcome back. We missed you."

"Yeah, you nearly took my arms off," Sakusa muttered under his breath, massaging his forearms with soapy water in the sink.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Atsumu said sheepishly, wiping his face with a worn towel. "It's good to be back, though. I missed y'all."

Atsumu had definitely played better today than all of his previous off-season practices, but he couldn't say he was 100% focused, either. The entire time, he couldn't stop thinking about you and your stupid date. Were you having a good time? Had you exchanged Goodreads accounts? Were Jun's jokes funnier, more intellectual than his?

Turns out spiking the volleyball like it was English major's face made for some pretty incredible service aces.

"That from your girlfriend?" Sakusa asked, jutting his chin towards the sticky note you'd written for Atsumu earlier that day. He'd since stuck it on the inside of his locker door.

"Nah. She's just a friend," Atsumu told him, slamming the locker door shut and slinging his gym bag over a shoulder. At Sakusa's raised eyebrow, he said, "She is! She's literally on a date right now."

As they exited the men's locker room and pushed through the double doors of the student athletics center, Atsumu stopped in his tracks. Because there, across the courtyard, you sat. Phone in one hand. A green smoothie in the other. Sitting all pretty in that burgundy dress that made Atsumu want to disintegrate.

"Sure she is," Sakusa drawled, yanking his mask over his nose and mouth before stalking off in the other direction.

"Y/N, what are ya doin' here?" Atsumu asked as he approached you.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm picking you up," you said matter-of-factly. You handed him his green smoothie from Sip Happens for good measure.

"I thought ya had yer date with English major. What happened to drunken noodles? Ice cream? Two days of uncontrollable IBS?"

"Yeah, well, turns out English majors aren't really my type," you admitted. Upon seeing Atsumu's perplexed expression, you added, "The guy was an asshole."

"Oh," he said, shoulders sagging. "I'm sorry."

You rolled your eyes. "No, you're not."

"I'm not," he confessed almost immediately. You barked out a laugh. "I'm sorry! But ice cream after spicy food? On a first date?"

"You're right. He's a psychopath."

"A complete psychopath," he agreed. "Ya deserve someone better. Someone who understands yer digestive issues. Someone who — "

He stopped abruptly, unsure of how to finish that sentence.

You peered up at him expectantly. "Someone who...?"

"Someone who really knows you," he finished after a moment. His throat bobbed. "And who can put up with all yer freaky obsessions."

"Ugh," you groaned. "I am never telling a man I write smut on the first date ever again."

Atsumu's lips tugged into a soft smile. "Thanks for the smoothie."

"No problem," you replied, stretching your arms out towards the orange sky. "Wanna join me for second dinner? I'm starving."

"Why?" Atsumu asked. "Ya didn't eat on yer date?"

"Barely. I have leftovers in the fridge, but I need something that doesn't remind me of Jun's pretentious face."

Atsumu snorted, already heading in the direction of your go-to diner spot. "Weird way to ask me out, but alright."

"Yeah, right," you scoffed, right on his heels. "You wish."

He knew you were only joking, but his heart twinged anyways.

Because, deep down, he knew you were right.

@miyasmagnolias, 2025

[gojover]

“stop laughing,” you mumble against atsumu’s mouth, even though you’re giggling too.

“i’m not,” atsumu slurs, his grin pressed into your cheek as he tries to kiss you. his hand misses your waist and ends up on your hip, and he slides it higher, clumsy and warm. “i’m bein’ serious. so serious.”

“you just tripped over a shoe five minutes ago.”

his nose scrunches. “made you look, though.”

“you’re such an idiot,” you sigh, but you’re smiling, hands sliding into his hair. you tug him back towards you. atsumu hums into the kiss, messy and loud, his hand smoothing over your back before slipping under the hem of your shirt.

“yer so soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jaw. “m’gonna marry ya.”

“you say that every time you’re drunk.”

“i mean it every time,” he says, beaming, and his mouth finds yours again, all teeth and sloppiness. 

he tastes like whiskey and mint gum, and his hands are so warm. so, so warm. your hands slide down his shoulders, and he’s laughing into the kiss, breathless and giddy. his nose bumps against yours when he tilts his head, trying to get closer. you tug at his hair, the dyed-blond strands slipping through your fingers, and he groans.

“you okay?” you ask, biting back a smile.

“never better,” he says, mouth pressed to the corner of yours. his hand slips beneath your shirt again, palm warm on your skin. “so, so soft.”

“you already said that,” you say against his lips.

“and i meant it,” he says, laughing, and you can’t help but laugh too. his thumb brushes your side, lazy and fond, and you feel like you’re melting right into him.

he kisses you again, sloppy and open-mouthed, and your head is spinning—partly from the alcohol, partly from the fact that his hands are everywhere—and you would probably let him keep going forever if—

“seriously?”

your head snaps up. osamu stands at the doorway, face twisted in disgust. 

“on my couch?”

#22. kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

[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.”

[stunie]

“NEEDIN’ A RIDE REAL, REAL BAD!!”

HAIKYUU + THIGH RIDING ᯓ⭑ ft. bokuto koutarou, daichi sawamura, kuroo tetsurou, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi, & ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

contains : explicit smut (18+), thigh riding / dry humping, phone call (keep quiet n ride!), risky sex / very mild: cw exhibitionism, squirting, teasing, praise, kissing <3, hair pulling (you to them), orgasm denial, usage of pet names — 2.9K WC

note : yayya my first haikyuu post on here ! this is my response to this thirst here ૮꒰˶˃ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა hope u all have fun reading this <3

KUROO TETSUROU.

“Whoa whoa,” Kuroo coos through a breathy chuckle, big hand wrapping around your hip to hold you still against his thigh. “Easy now, pretty thing. Let’s pause for a second, okay?”

The sound of your protests and whines almost make him cave right off the bat. “…Tetsu..” you sulk, corners of your lips curling into a sad pout even when he gives you an apologetic smile before he’s jutting his thumb to gesture at his phone, the irritating melody of his ringtone repeating itself as the screen lights up, “Incoming call from: Kenma!” displayed across the top.

“Sorryy,” he huffs. “Can’t. This one’s important.”

He’s giving you a reassuring squeeze around your hip, a silent reminder that he’ll give you everything you need in a few minutes, but you’re not having any of that. Your arms come to stubbornly wrap around his neck before he can pick up the call, sugar sweet voice already making pleas only a second later.

On any other given day, you would have let him take the call with only an irritated huff— just not today. Not with the way you can already feel your orgasm running away from you. “P-please, please Tetsu,” you sob, “I was so close. Can’t wait any longer.. please?”

His eyes are widening a bit at the unfamiliar desperation in your voice, grunt slipping out when his cock reacts to it too, twitching and slapping against his stomach— a reoccurring habit that seems to only occur whenever you give him that needy little look of yours.

“Awww,” he whispers, and you barely catch the strain in his voice. “Well I’m sorry for ruining your moment, angel.”

You’re practically purring as soon as you feel his hand come to lightly cup your jaw, immediately melting into his touch as he smiles in response. “Ah— fine,” Kuroo caves as soon as he sees your hands coming to cutely hold his wrist in place. “Guess i can’t stop you if you need it so bad. But listen here..”

His thumb moves from your jaw, digit pressing into your bottom lip to angle your face at him. The look you’re giving him is just to die for, pouty lips soft against his thumb and you’re peering up at him through those pleady eyes— as if there was even a single chance that Kuroo would ever deny his pretty girl of an orgasm in the first place.

“Nothing crazy. Deal? Kenma hears and..” he presses a little harder into your lip, watching the way your tongue comes to swipe at the invasive finger. “Me and you? Are never hearing the end of it.”

You’re swiftly nodding as soon as the words register, hands coming to rest on the muscles of his shoulders as you resume your movement the next second, gasping at the way your clit catches against his thigh. “Kenma?” You hear him hum, tucking his phone between his cheek and shoulder— quick and casual.

Maybe too casual.

“Mmm,” his eyes flicker back towards you when you take in a sharp inhale. “So it’s about that. You sure you don’t wanna meet up to go over it?”

A loud gasp slips out from you when he abruptly grabs you by your waist, and your hands slam over your mouth, Kuroo tensing beneath you. “…Hm? Yeah, I’m listening.” He chuckles, regaining his composure in an instant as he starts to rock you back and forth against his leg— and fast.

The roughness has your face contorting, nails digging deep into his shoulders as you try and resist the strong hands guiding you back and forth— try and slow him down a bit, delay your oncoming orgasm by even second if anything at all. You hadn’t expected it to come back so fast, and.. you both knew good and well that you weren’t gonna be able to stay quiet.

You give him a look, something resembling your best attempt at a glare, but he’s ignoring it— casually chatting with kenma about something you can’t quite catch. You’re only left to bite your lip, eyebrows deeply furrowed as you desperately fight the knot tightening inside your belly, thighs clamping against his own as he flexes his quad straight into you.

“Oh,” Kuroo says, hand leaving your waist to pick up his phone again, finger hovering over the ‘mute’ button, and your body is falling limp onto his chest, hands balancing yourself on him as you peer up at him through tired eyes and a heavy pant. “Actually..”

“..Looks like I got a bit of a problem to take care of here first.” He smiles. “So give me a minute, yeah?”

MIYA ATSUMU.

“Gonna have to keep that pretty voice of yours down.” Atsumu’s lips brush against the shell of your ear, big hands tight around your hips as he drags you up and down his thigh. “Or ‘Samu’s gonna hear ya.”

Your hips stutter against his leg, drawing a sharp gasp from you- and he curses under his breath. Osamu would be back any second now, and yet he’s got you seated on him, your lounge shorts pulled to the side so he can draw one quick orgasm out of you before the three of you head out for dinner.

Because you— Atsumu’s impatient lil bunny, or so he calls you, just couldn’t wait until after the dinner to get a quick treat.

“‘M trying.” You whisper, voice breathless and whiny, and you tighten your embrace around his middle, burying your face deep into the fabric of his sweater. “Feels ‘s good… so good— need more..”

“I know, I know— later, yeah?” He sounds unsteady from how roughly he’s moving you against him, muscles of his thigh flexing and hardening underneath you. “Gonna give it to ya real good. stuff ya nice and full. How’s that sound, dirty girl?”

You want that.

You know exactly how easy it’d be for him to get you gushing underneath his cock if it weren’t for your insistence on him not cumming. And well.. it kind of made sense to him— considering how your last creampie went. His mind thinks back to how you looked with his cum dribbling down your thighs as you nervously clamped them together, and how no one seemed to noticed the juices dripping into a neat little puddle beneath you.

It’d be so easy— he’s got you all mapped out and knows you like the back of his hand. He could just push those pretty thighs of yours up to your face, hold them nice and still as he pummels the deep spot inside you that has you chanting his name over and over, and your cunt would be gushing right after that.

“‘Tsumu.” You choke out, tightly latching onto him like a koala, “‘M gonna cum..!”

“You are, aren’t ya? I can tell.” He groans, and his thigh bounces up into you, mumbling a curse under his breath when you squeal at the roughness. “Show me that pretty face when you’re lettin’ go.”

A couple more rolls of your hips and you’re gasping and stuttering against him, Atsumu pulling you just right against his thigh as your eyes slam shut, knot inside you violently snapping in an instant as you tremble underneath him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl.” His voice comes out deep and breathy, hands tightening their grip on you. “Ride it all out f’ me, rela- oh s-shit.”

Your eyes widen as soon as the sound of footsteps registers in your mind, and your head swiftly turns back to see that Atsumu’s already pulling your shorts back over your cunt, your juices immediately soaking through the fabric as he holds you flush against his chest, big hand cradling the back of your head.

“‘Tsumu..!” You whisper, but he’s shushing you with gentle strokes along the back of your head.

“What, ‘Samu?” he calls out, his mind putting together a silent prayer that his twin was not about to open the door.

His prayers go unanswered.

“You two ready yet?” Osamu’s asking as soon as he flings open the door, the knob accidentally slipping through his grasp, and your door crashes against your wall with a loud thud a second later.

You faintly hear him mutter an “oops” before his eyes are finally falling on you, brow raising at the sight of you clinging tightly onto atsumu as your chest heaves up and down.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

“What?” you can feel your concentration falter as soon as the sound of Sakusa’s voice reaches you, and you’re immediately wiping at the frustrated tears that have begun to collect along your lashes. “Can’t cum like that?”

You’re quick to shake your head, and he doesn’t miss the slight tremble to your lips. Cute.

Sakusa had his doubts about this idea of yours from the start. He knows how needy you always get— knows that despite that innocent face of yours, your cunt’s anything but. It’s greedy. Something like this was probably not gonna be able to get you to finish, and he knew that.. but a part of him was just curious.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to see you this frustrated. Your chest is rising up and down with each angry pant, arm coming to rub at your nose from the occasional sniffle after being denied orgasm after orgasm.

And him? he’s never felt such a strong ache before. The dark spot on his shorts are a tell-tale sign that he’s been leaking with pre-cum, and he can practically feel it starting to drip down his cock. Neither of you were doing so well, and if he was being honest, he’s on the verge of flipping you over and putting you in a mating press— but the small voice inside him wants to see you come undone on his thighs. Badly.

He’s just gotta see how you look.

“Need your cock, Omi.” You mumble, rising onto your knees to scoot further up, but he’s stopping you only a second later. “Omi? Why..?”

“No.” he says flatly. “You don’t.”

“I do!” You’re protesting immediately after, hands balancing on his shoulders. “Can’t finish without it— ah!”

You yelp when he’s roughly pulling you back down, his quad flexing as soon as your cunt makes contact with his leg. The hands around your hips are tight, and Sakusa’s setting a rhythm only a moment later, keeping the muscles of his legs firm and flexed to better rub against your clit.

“W-wait!” You’re stammering, whining straight into his ear as you frantically latch onto him. He lets you bury your face into the crook of his neck as he works you closer to your high, forcing you into a mind-numbing pace to have you flying right off the edge in a few more seconds.

“You can— don’t fight it.” His voice comes out as a deep grunt, a result of his dragged out attempts at ignoring the borderline painful throb of his cock, and oh- he was so going to take you in a mating press after this. The second you’re finished gushing, he was gonna flip you over and finally rid himself this irritating ache.

“Omi!” You sob, eyes clenching shut as your hips start to stutter, and he can feel you trembling underneath his hands. “Omi.. O-omi— ‘m close!” He only responds by roughly pressing his thigh up against you, thick muscle hitting your clit just right as you choke out a scream, finally gushing all over his thighs.

“See?” He exhales, breath hitching in his throat when your nails dig deep into his back, his hands slowly moving you up and down to ride out your high.

“You can.”

DAICHI SAWAMURA.

“Feeling good, huh? Don’t try to fight it.”

Daichi grunts when you tug at his hair a little harder, face buried deep into his front as you desperately hump his leg. He’s gentle with you, strong hands guiding you up and down his leg, but he’d be lying if he said his patience wasn’t starting to wear thin.

The sweet nothings he’s been whispering into your ear this entire time are starting to sound a lot less like cooing and a lot more like grunting.

He couldn’t help it. He can feel you so so vividly, feel your juices dripping down the sides of his thigh and hear you moaning straight into his chest. You were soaked through and through, and it’s taking everything in him to stay patient and let you have this.

“There you go.” He’s praising you when you grind against him particularly hard, ignoring the way his shorts are feeling painfully tight around his cock. “Just like that— move exactly like that.”

“Daichi,” you whine. “‘M getting so close— feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He exhales deeply, and the way his cock twitches suddenly has him groaning, hands squeezing a bit too hard against your hips as you wince. “Daichi..?”

“Oops, sorry princess.” He’s clenching his jaw, giving you a weak smile as you wrap your arms around him. “That’s my bad. Don’t mind me, okay? Just.. worry about yourself— this is all about you right now.”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI.

You weren’t as subtle as you thought.

His legs just looked so strong, so perfect to sit on, and you couldn’t help yourself. He didn’t seem to think too much of it when you first sat a little lower than you usually did, straddling his mid thigh as he flipped through another manga that Tendou had lent him earlier that week.

Just subtle movements up and down his thigh was your original plan, but it didn’t take very long for him to catch on.

“What are you doing?” Ushijima’s voice has you jolting from where you’re seated on his left thigh, his gaze now on you and the way you’re frantically waving your arms around in defense, barely able to stammer out a “N-nothing!”

You just barely catch the way his eyebrow raises in suspicion. It has you moving off him the next second, but he’s tossing aside the manga, big and strong hands easily wrapping around your hips to keep you planted on him.

“Don’t leave yet.” He says, stern and flat, but you catch the hint of curiosity swirling deep in his eyes.

The familiar heat of embarrassment is flooding to your face in an instant, and your head hangs low. “S-sorry, Toshi.” You mumble, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Your thighs just looked so big, just wanted to… ride them.”

It’s silent.

You work up the courage to snack a glance at him again, now faced with the sight of his head tilted a bit, as if confused by your confession. “B-but!” You continue, mouth already running off on its own. “Forget it, okay? It might be weird— Toshi..?”

It was just one little flex of his quad, one that had the muscle pushing up against your clit, but the way his name rolled off your tongue sounded sinful. You can feel his grip around your hips tightening a bit, and he’s leaning in to close the gap between the two of you.

“Wouldn’t it feel better like this?”

BOKUTO KOUTAROU.

It started off with an accidental brush of his knee against your cunt.

Bokuto had always been eager with his kisses. He had you pinned down on his mattress, body hovering over yours as he moved his lips against your own— and he hadn’t even noticed anything different until he heard you suddenly moan into his mouth. He’s pulling away the next second, eyes wide as he tries gauging your reaction again, bringing his knee back to rub over your cunt. And … just like clockwork, your eyes clench shut and you choke back a gasp.

He swallows thickly.

Only five minutes later and he’s got you seated on his thigh, moving you back and forth with a needy grunt, his free hand squeezing your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him. “Don’t look away, ‘kay?”

“You look pretty— pretty like that. I just wanna see.”

The look on his face isn’t much different from yours. His mouth is slightly parted in desperate pants, deep red spreading across his cheeks at the sight of you feeling good on his leg. He’s swallowing deeply before he takes in a sharp inhale right after, already pussy drunk and his dick hasn’t even touched you yet.

The way your face starts to contort when you’re rapidly approaching your high has him just hoping he doesn’t end up finishing untouched. It’s throbbing— absolutely aching with need and as soon as you start sobbing his name, he can feel his patience shatter into thin pieces.

You let out a loud yelp as soon as your back hits the mattress, Bokuto looming over you with a strained look on his face as he rushes to line his tip up with your hole. “S-sorry.” His voice is just above a growl. “I can’t help it after all. It’s okay though, right? Gonna make you feel good.”

[umehaji]

— 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓;

☾ Content: popstar f!reader much more famous than your pro volleyball player boyfriend- you finally hard launch your relationship on instagram but the public reaction isn't what you expect, so you take matters into your own hands

ft. Ushijima Wakatoshi, Hinata Shouyou, Miya Atsumu, Bokuto Koutarou, Kageyama Tobio

☾ A/N: inspired by dua lipa and callum turner and my girl sabrina

— 𝐔𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢;

Ushijima doesn't even have an instagram, naturally. the closest thing is he's got is his team's account, curated and managed by the PR team. so when you wiggle your phone in front of him to show him the chosen piece for your account, he just gives it a cursory glance and nods. the photo is from backstage at one of your concerts earlier this month: you, glowing with joy, arm slung casually around his neck, leaning into him as you beam up at him with a smile that could light up your stadiums. he's got one arm wrapped securely around your waist, usual stoic expression softened by a warmth in his eyes as he gazes down at you- one that only you seem to be able to draw out of him.

but the reactions to your post are swift and crushing. you're beyond proud of Ushijima- proud of his quiet strength, his dedication, his raw talent. you know you shouldn’t and it shouldn’t—doesn’t—matter, but your thumb keeps scrolling through the comments. each one feels like a knife twisting deeper, a personal attack, particularly the ones suggesting he doesn't care, that he looks like he's got the emotional depth of a spoon, that this is all just a PR move somehow. watching the sweetest man you know not get the recognition he truly deserves hurts more than you want to admit.

ᯓ🏐

when Ushijima steps into your shared bedroom, shirtless, his hair still damp from a post-workout shower and sweatpants slung low on his hips, his gaze finds you sitting at your vanity. the soft light of the mirror highlights your delicate features, casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

"toshi," you greet him warmly, turning toward him with an inviting smile. he pads over to you, barefoot, and you tilt your chin up expectantly. he rests one hand on the back of your chair, the other on the edge of your desk and leans down, capturing your lips in a long, slow kiss, his head tilting to deepen it as he lifts a hand to your cheek, gently smoothing his thumb across your soft skin before drawing back, a small smile curving up on his lips when he sees the dazed look in your eyes.

"morning, love." he says simply, before walking off to the kitchen to make himself a protein shake. completely oblivious to the phone propped up against your mirror, the livestream on the screen, and the chaos that you've just unleashed within your fanbase.

readerfanatic_official joined popicon4life just fell to my knees screaming in the 711 parking lot platinum_readerstan she's dating a TREE tinyreader777 'morning love'???...our queen is built different i would've evaporated on the spot bipbop_23 ...i get it now readerfan2024 guess i'm into volleyball now glitznglamfan girl i'm scared for ur holes

— 𝐇𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐨𝐮;

it's a cute photo: the two of you on a beach at a resort, there for one of Oikawa's games. Hinata's got his head in your lap, one of your hands gently running through his messy orange hair while your other hand rests on his chest. you're gazing out at the sea, a serene smile gracing your face as you enjoy the view, while Hinata looks up at you, equally captivated by what he sees.

the comments that flood in are anything but kind. most of them poke fun at his height, with fans wondering how he managed to catch your eye when he's fighting gravity every day, others insisting that he must just be very funny. and it doesn’t bother Hinata at all, not that you can tell- he just scratches the back of his head and laughs, exclaiming that it's nothing he hasn't heard before, that he’ll just have to work twice as hard to earn your fans’ approval. ignoring your protests that he has nothing to prove.

ᯓ🏐

a few eagle-eyed fans are the first ones to notice it and not long after, screenshots of your activity start to circulate. first it's you liking an edit of Hinata lifting his shirt during ones of his games to wipe sweat off his brow. then it's a clip of him leaping into the air, showing off his energy and athleticism. a third like is a snapshot of Hinata celebrating a victory, fists clenched and knees bent, muscles in his thighs flexed as he roars with triumph.

the one that nips it in the bud is when you share a post to your story. it’s a reel- a compilation of Hinata’s spikes, his raw energy and unstoppable power lighting up the court as he slams the ball past his opponents. your fans lose it when you post a mirror selfie on the same day: you've got your back turned toward the mirror, all dolled up for an award ceremony in a gown that leaves nothing and everything to the imagination. you look good, accentuated by the man at your side who, unlike you, is facing the mirror. but Hinata isn't looking at the camera- his heated gaze is on your reflection instead. one of his arms is curved loosely around your waist, hand resting just above your ass.

the internet goes wild.

mvpmichelle8 2h 385 likes our girl is thirsting publicly on main i respect it robsessed247 2h 306 likes rip to her ass cheeks keanue_433 2h 243 likes ...what team does he play for again stanacctreader 1h 178 likes she got herself a short KING FR newvolley_98 1h 85 likes so when’s the next game where you get a front-row seat to his… spikes? 🥵

— 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮;

you don’t exactly share the photo yourself, but it might as well be yours. when Vogue posts the cover shot and tags you, it goes viral almost instantly. because Atsumu is seated in a luxurious chair, looking every bit like a king in his perfectly tailored suit, legs spread confidently, an air of dominance about him. you're perched on the armrest beside him, the slit of your black dress exposing the smooth curves of your body. one of your hands is loosely intertwined with his, resting on your thigh. the chemistry is palpable, electric. the sultry confidence in your posture paired with the intensity in Atsumu's gaze makes it impossible to look away. paired with the article about your relationship, this is a power couple at its finest.

or at least so you think.

the opinions of your fans are mixed, but those who disapprove don't hold back. they say that he must be cheating on you, that he looks untrustworthy, that his self-assured interview quotes only highlight how self-absorbed he is, implying he’s too consumed with himself to ever treat you right. Atsumu's ready to fight everyone questioning his devotion to you before you remind him that he can’t spend all day replying to hate comments- he has practice, and that you’ll handle it.

ᯓ🏐

you show up to the world championship that month with your entourage in tow. you visit Atsumu in his locker room to wish him good luck, ignoring the way his teammates trip over themselves gaping at you. he almost doesn’t let you leave, seizing you in a deep kiss that leaves you a little unsteady on your feet, but you plan a firm hand on his chest because you have places to be, a job to do.

when Atsumu steps up to serve and you watch as his routine unfolds, the familiar movements flowing effortlessly, your PR team is at the ready. his signature has evolved since his early days, the fist still a familiar gesture, but now his index finger uncurls at the last moment, pointing into the crowd. he doesn’t need to look; he always knows exactly where you are. but today, it’s different. you’re not in the shadows, hiding behind sunglasses or a baseball cap. today, you’re wearing his jersey, sitting front and center, in the best seat in the house. you’re clapping louder than anyone else, beaming so hard your cheeks hurt.

this time, when he finds you in the crowd, the whole world is watching.

Us Weekly: Atsumu Miya Makes History with Serve: Fans Go Wild over Major 'Couple Goals' Moment at the World Championship Buzzfeed: Is He Pointing to Y/N? 10 Moments Atsumu Miya Was Literally Screaming 'I Love You' Sports Illustrated: Atsumu Miya’s Serve Gets Personal: The Unspoken Gesture You Didn’t Know Was for Y/N Kyodo News: Fans Flock to See Miya Atsumu's Relationship with Global Sensation Y/N in Full View Cosmopolitan: Y/N and Atsumu Miya: From Music Charts to Volleyball Courts—Their Love Story (Exclusive)

— 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮;

what you think is a beautiful moment, your fans interpret quite differently. in the photo you post, Bokuto's strong arms are wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him as he hugs you from behind. his hands are positioned low on your abdomen, fingers spread wide and pressing down lightly, a playful gesture that has you squirming in response. the candid shot your manager took captures you in mid-laugh. you're tilting away from him, hands gripping his wrists, body twisted in a half-escape as though you're trying to dodge his ticklish touch. Bokuto's lips are pressed softly to the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder partly obscuring his face. his expression is partially hidden, but the corner of his mischievous grin peeks out, his eyes glinting at the camera as he looks up right at that moment.

your fans tear him apart, their words dripping with criticism- accusing him of being too touchy, claiming that you don’t want him like that, that he's too obsessed, too forward. the comments flood in, one after another, each one more biting than the last. the relentless stream of negativity cuts deep, and you can see the toll it takes on Bokuto as he scrolls on his phone with a downtrodden look. you tell him to ignore it, that he has nothing to worry about, but you can tell it does little to lift his spirits.

ᯓ🏐

you show him that night just how deeply you care about him, straddling his lap and gently cupping his face in your hands. your lips meet his in a soft, reverent kiss, a silent exchange that you hope conveys volumes. you murmur against his mouth, telling him how perfect he is, watching with a quiet smile as the tips of his ears go red. but then he shifts, flipping you over on the bed, caging you in with thick arms all while still blushing so prettily. and when you feel something hard and big pressing against your inner thigh, you wonder what you've gotten yourself into.

Bokuto goes even redder the next day when he wakes up to incessant texting from his teammates and he opens social media to find a photo on your feed: it's of him shirtless, lying on his front and cradling a pillow with his cheek smooshed into it, his hair down and expression peaceful. what's not so peaceful is the view of his bare back- red streaks running down his tanned skin, unmistakably from your fingers. the white sheets thrown over his legs obscure anything from the waist down but his face flushes deeper as he takes in the rest of the intimate scene.

you've got one hand resting gently on his head, fingers woven loosely in his hair, thumb caressing his cheek mid-stroke. it's soft, casual, possessive.

fan_gurl_4 1h 403 likes the way we thought HE was the obsessed one...how the turn tables bobfriend_76 1h 386 likes she's marking her territory glamjam69 1h 207 likes ...this ain't demure or mindful at all menin4k22 45m 146 likes ma’am for science, p-please remove those sheets readerfan234 14m 121 likes the way she's touching him...i need a moment to grieve 😩

— 𝐊𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐨;

the release party for your new album goes off without a hitch, and you score tons of cute photos with Kageyama, cuddling up to him that night to scroll through and select the best ones. your top choice is one of the more simple shots: you, with one hand resting on his chest, leaning into the arm he’s wrapped around your waist. his long fingers were hot against your skin through the delicate fabric of your dress, and you swear you can still feel the imprints of them. he's serious in the shot, his lips set in a stern line as he gazes into the camera, but you adore that look on him. especially when that same gaze shifts to you, hinting at something deeper, something darker, waiting for later.

your fans, however, don't see what you do. so you wake up to a barrage of comments, about how he looks boring, how he probably doesn't know a single one of your lyrics, how you could do so much better. naturally, Kageyama doesn't give a single shit as to what your fans think about him. just kisses you goodbye and heads off to practice, duffel bag slung over his broad shoulder. but you care.

ᯓ🏐

it takes a fair amount of convincing and a hefty dose of bribery, which somehow includes you securing an advertisement contract with one of Kageyama's favorite yogurt brands, but he finally agrees to appear in the music video for your latest hit. though, you can't help but think it had more to do with you casually hinting that your company had intended on pulling in one of the hottest actors currently on the scene, known for making girls swoon at meet-and-greets.

he plays a cop arresting you for a string of crimes you commit in the name of revenge on your cheating ex, culminating in him pushing you down in the backseat of his patrol car. it's hot, steamy, and when he shoves his knee between your legs, leaning over you with one hand pinning your wrists above your head, you won't deny that you make a mental note to recreate this scene later, without the cameras.

the music video shatters records and skyrockets to the top of the charts.

and the comments this time? well. they speak for themselves.

bops234 • 1 day ago this awakened something in me fando23 • 12 hours ago i'm going to need this man's @ immediately barkbarkbark_89 • 12 hours ago are we sure he doesn't want to switch career paths stanacctreader • 10 hours ago i thought he was just a plain slice of milk bread but boy was i wrong freedomsings145 1h • 5 hours ago casting your real life boyfriend as the main romantic lead in your music video is such a power move, as always our queen's taste is IMPECCABLE atsumumiya • 2 hours ago he looks like a foot

[evamame]

2:05 A.M. / atsumu miya

your eyes, still heavily laced with sleep, flutter open to see atsumu laying by your side with his back leaning against the headboard. your baby daughter is curled up in his arms, fussing to no end.

atsumu feels you stir beside him and looks down at you, explaining the situation in a low whisper, “woke up and heard her cryin’.”

“just now?” you ask, your words hushed. you look over at the clock on the bedside table—2:05 A.M.

“‘bout five minutes ago. no amount of shushin’ is gonna get this girl to sleep.” he gently rocks her against his chest, running his hand through her wispy locks of hair in a futile attempt to soothe her.

you two are both drained. the forced smile on atsumu’s face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes is powered by the purest of love and adoration, but his gaze is still laced with exhaustion nonetheless. his eyes droop with heavy weariness, and you’re no different. every night your baby girl can’t help but throw an uncontrollable fit programmed to drive you both insane.

a long sigh of defeat leaves your lips as she continues to bawl, the noise beginning to ring in your ears. “take your shirt off.”

atsumu turns his head to you, one brow cocking up in confusion, “huh? ma’ shirt? why?”

you take the wailing baby from his arms, “just do it.”

he hesitates for a moment before obliging, quickly throwing his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. he holds his arms out, and you carefully hand your daughter back to him.

“skin to skin contact might help her calm down.”

he pulls your daughter impossibly close to his chest at your words, “ya’ think so?”

“i know so. the feeling of your heartbeat will relax her.”

you watch as he looks down at your daughter, and the silent pleading, willing, for her to calm down is palpable in his gaze. then soon enough, as if it’s a miracle, she slowly begins to settle in atsumu’s arms. her loud cries start to die down at the sound and feel of her papa’s heartbeat close to her ear.

“it’s really workin’,” atsumu mutters quietly in disbelief under his breath.

“see?” you curl up closer to atsumu’s side, running the back of your hand soothingly over your daughter’s tiny cheek.

“guess she just wanted her papa’s cuddles,” atsumu smiles tenderly, one filled with relief at the absence of her cries. he kisses the top of her fragile head before leaning his own head back against the headboard in defeat, followed by a soft sigh of resignation. his eyes close shut to rest for a quick moment, brows furrowed.

“just wake me up next time. i‘ll deal with it.”

he shakes his head, voice weak and raspy from a lack of sleep, “yer’ more tired than i am.”

“but—” you open your mouth to protest, but are cut off by atsumu’s words.

“i know. it’s okay. ya’ do great dealing with her all day when i’m at practice. lemme do this for ya’.” he leans over to place your daughter, who’s now fast asleep, back into the beside bassinet.

he slides under the blanket, strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to his warm chest as his legs tangle with yours. he tucks you under his chin, his breath tickling the top of your head as he mumbles, “ya’ need some rest too, mama.”

“don’t you want to put your shirt back on?”

you feel his lips curve into a teasing smile against your hair despite his exhaustion, “maybe the skin to skin contact will help ya’ get some much needed sleep too.”

“it doesn’t work like that,” you murmur.

“mhm,” he hums in response, and if he wasn’t so tired, he’d laugh at the way you fall limp into his arms, heavy with sleep not even a second afterwards.

masterlist | tag list | tags: @scoupsworld @mires765 @amaliaaliena a/n: atsumu is THE girl dad

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[dearru]

getting stood up | ft. hq boys

-> pairings: miya atsumu, miya osamu, hinata shoyo, suna rintaro, tsukishima kei, iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader | sfw | cw: smau, cursing, they all highkey want u | genre: fluff | mlist

-> synopsis: you text your friend after getting stood up, and he knows exactly how to comfort you.

—a/n: don’t look at me.

[19909]

ATSUMU looks starstruck on your wedding day. he's seen you try out the dress before, and the makeup ideas you've run past him in the weeks, but this is different somehow. you're glowing. as you come up the aisle, bouquet in hand, his jaw is slack, eyes wide. you couldn't have looked better.

his hands are shaking when you approach him, voice failing him as he gazes at you in awe.

"what's wrong? aren't you- aren't you happy?" you ask, nervous, when he doesn't speak.

atsumu doesn't want to cry, not in front of his friends and family, especially not in front of the videocamera in suna's hands. he squeezes your hand; "i am, i am, i swear-"

his voice breaks.

not even a day later, the video suna posts of atsumu in tears before even getting to his vows goes viral.

someone is insane in this room...! (me.)

[yuquinzel]

atsumu who goes above and beyond to impress you, his crush and classmate of four years, in all definitions of “impress.”

honestly how the fuck isn't it obvious to you by now, he might as well be walking around with “i like y/n” tattooed on his forehead.

you mention you like guys that can cook once and holy fuck atsumu who still doesn't know how to use the microwave without quite literally burning the food, who's never chopped onions before without ending up with enough cuts to bandage his whole hand— that atsumu practices for weeks and stays up till 2 am to prepare for the lunch he'll make for himself, because osamu said said no and then because you bring homemade lunch to stay and eat in class with your friends— he'll casually just plop down on the seat next to you, his friends will then very obviously willingly talk loudly about his lunch and he'll just throw in a, “yeah, made it maself, 'm a solid chef, who do ya think taught 'samu?”

okay if that didn't get your attention, no worries, what are his friends there for?

if atsumu gets lucky in a day and catches you chatting away with your friends in the hallway, then he instructs his friends to walk past you, hover in the corner, just within your earshot— “'kay, so when we pass her by, ya gotta speak ma name real loud, loud enough so she can hear it, but don't annoy her”

and so for the time you stand there, trying to hold a conversation with your friends, all your mind can really focus on is the, “atsumu was so fucking good in practice today, if we're gonna win, then it'll be all him”

and then you hear the subject of the conversation speak, “nah, we're a team, every time we win, it's all thanks ta you guys,” because you also mentioned you like modest, humble guys.

god forbid the days you're absent in class.

atsumu who's sulking all day, doesn't know what the fuck is going on in classes, he's half in and half not in every conversation, even his passes are sloppy and weak. to the point osamu and suna are concerned, well, in their own ways, “are ya constipated or something, yer missin’ your spikes and yer passes as clumsy,” osamu says off-handedly.

“i heard y/n didn't come today, i think her friends said she's sick.” suna chips in, and atsumu shrinks in his spot like a grumpy cat.

“i already know that, wouldn't have come today if i knew she wasn't comin’.”

“you'd miss practice then.”

“don't care, don't talk to me, don't wanna do anything, what's the point.”

“down fucking bad,” suna muses, and atsumu glares at him.

atsumu's day is ruined and his disappointment is immeasurable. why did you get sick? how could you get sick? now he's worried and half of himself and his passes are shit and god, he wants to see you. he feels like he could die.

then when you finally show up the next day after what felt like eternity to atsumu, you find on your desk a pile of snacks with a little note— banana milk, everyone knows it's your favourite, the bar of chocolate they only sell down the convenience store near the school, the glazed donuts that you're always eating in class, and a lot of bubblegums that only one person in class knows you like— atsumu's handwriting is rushed and barely comprehensive but you know it by heart because he doesn't know you saw him slip the note you found in your locker this morning, and countless other mornings—

“i hope you smile because of this”

atsumu as a secret admirer is... not so secret because he's still unaware that you see him every morning, and let him giggle to himself as he slips the notes and the strips of bubblegums in your locker— you don't even like that flavor.

but he gave them, so you think they might just be your favourite.

then again, maybe atsumu doesn't want to be a secret admirer.

atsumu has a crush on you and you know that— he's very obvious. but he's also very dense and doesn't realise that everyone besides him can see you like him too. he doesn't know the only reason you bring homemade lunch is because he had started to eat lunch in class with his friends. you stand in the hallways with your friends pretending to talk so that when atsumu's walking past you, his friends will practically yell his name and you'll see him blushing shyly. he still doesn't know you come to his every match, cheering for him and scream with joy at every one of his scores.

atsumu makes it obvious he has a crush on you but is stupidly dense that you reciprocate all the same :'))))

© yuquinzel 2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

POSTING BECAUSE WHY TF NOT HUH HUHHHHHHHHH

@kyoghurts hi bbg

[nnnyxie]

idk was listening to lemon boy and i thought of atsumu <3

“[name], why do you even hang out with him? he may be hot but he’s a major asshole.” one of your friends spoke, in a sour tone. “you’re so right! he’s a dickhead but people are too blind to see cause he’s a twin, and they’re both cute,” your other one decided to chime in. “atsumu’s not as bad as you guys think…” you mumbled and rolled your eyes. it always annoyed you when they did this. talking shit on someone they don’t even know.

talking shit on your atsumu.

they don’t know that he cries when a plant dies. they don’t know that he picks the tomatoes out of your food cause you hate them. they don’t know that he takes an art class with you on the weekends.

they don’t know anything about him.

but you do.

you know that he cried when beatrice (his plant) died because kita gave it to him. you know that he takes your tomatoes, despite hating them himself. you know that he takes art classes with you because you love art and he loves you.

you know everything about atsumu.

all his quirks and all his flaws.

atsumu isn’t bad. he just doesn’t know how to be nice. he doesn’t know how to express himself properly. he’s so sensitive to the point he puts up walls. and, overtime, you’ve had to chip away at the walls until they crumbled.

“you guys just… don’t get him, like i do.” you shrug and look back at the book you’re holding. it was one atsumu had given you, actually. you mentioned this author once and he was the first to buy their new book.

“come on, you don’t have to defend him just cause you’re friends with aran or whatever,” your friend groaned and rolled their eyes. “no— literally!” your other friend lightly slapped their arm. “just cause you’re aran’s friend, doesn’t mean you have to defend shit stain.”

“can you fucking stop?” you closed your book and stood up. “you guys don’t know him, so shut the fuck up. i’m sick of this, honestly.”

ME LOB HIM

[st4ringlow]

"you shouldnt wear that,"

you were taken aback by the unexpected comment from the man you hardly knew, your mouth agape as words failed to come forth. "i-im sorry..?" you asked, your voice tinged with hesitation and confusion. the man has a bored look on his face, but his words is totally striking your pride. "you're miya's girlfriend arent you? but people cant seem to differentiate between you and a slut because of that dress you're wearing," you were really surprised by his rudeness, and the word 'slut' hurts you like shit. no one has ever called you that, and why is this random stranger degrading you like you're some low women?

"what the hell did you just say to my girl?" atsumu's voice was cold and harsh, his angry tone evident. "who the fuck are you to tell my girl what to wear?" he asked, his fists clenched and jaw tightening. before you could speak, atsumu punched the guy. a commotion ensued, and you both left the party as the situation worsened. its safe to say atsumu made some new enemies that night, and now he's enduring a lecture from you while you apply ice to his bruised jaw.

you know atsumu is not a weak man; he will throw punches if needed for you. he doesn't mind being your knight in shining armor, because it's you.

"dont mind his words, you can wear whatever the fuck you want because i can and will fight if anyone opposes," a smile formed on your lips as you heard atsumu's words.

[haikyu-mp4]

as atsumu’s proud and beloved girlfriend, you posted a photo of him warming up for one of his first msby games. in the photo, he’s looking real sassy while side-eyeing the opposite team’s setter, so you put the caption “watch out, he’s first up to serve… SERVE CUNT! pop off, babe!!”

his pr management hates both of you.

[hinatsu]

prank calling husband!atsumu but it's literally impossible to get him mad at you bc he just adores you so, so much :3

but today?? you had the ultimate plan. the one that’d surely crack him. there was no way he wouldn’t at least get a little ticked over this one. because this man loves his truck. you’re already grinning as the phone rings, curled up on the couch with your phone pressed to your cheek, and ofc he picks up on the second ring.

“hey, sugar, whatcha need?”

you chew your lip, shoulders shaking as you try not to laugh. “honey, i—i think i did somethin’ wrong… ‘m sorry.” you throw in a pathetic little sniffle, turning your head to wipe a nonexistent tear like you’re up for an oscar.

“i ain’t never mad at ya. what’s wrong? darl’? fuck, don’t cry—”

you can hear the panic settle in. the soft shuffle of his chair. maybe even his keys already in hand. the guilt nips, sure, but the bit’s too good. you power through.

“i was just tryna surprise you… so i filled up your truck.”

you mute the phone real quick to cackle, slapping a hand over your mouth before unmuting again like nothing happened.

“i j’ used the green one! it was pretty,” you say, voice wobbling like you’re on the verge of tears. “but now the truck won’t move.. ‘m sorry baby..”

there’s a pause. a deep inhale. and then—

a sigh of... relief?? ffs. “oh, baby,” his voice is so soft you almost break again. “you damn near scared me half to death." he chuckles, voice sounding so sickeningly sweet. "it’s alright, darl’. you were just tryna help me out, yeah? s’okay. just don’t touch nothin’ else, okay? i’ll come take care of it. ‘s not your fault.”

you blink. “you’re not mad?”

he scoffs, like it was a stupid question. “are you kiddin'? ‘course not! i’d pour diesel in that truck m’self if you asked me to. shit—i’m on my way now. sit tight for me, yeah?”

you choke on a laugh. “tsumu—tsumu wait, i’m kidding—baby, i’m joking! i didn’t touch the truck!”

silence.

“…you little shit. are you doing that tiktok crap again?”

[swtnjk]

atsumu loves his princess

you and atsumu watch the bear on your tv, he didn’t care for it though. he stares at you as his hands rub up and down your calf. you look at him, “hm?” he shakes his head.

“just lookin at my girl.”

you giggle as you rub his shoulder with your foot. you drag your foot up to his cheek, slapping it softly. “suck my toes, baby,” you tease.

he raises his brows, grinning. “aight.”

and before you could reply it, he grabbed your foot with both hands and kissed your big toe like it was some priceless gem. “your wish is my command, beautiful.”

you laugh loudly, pulling your foot away. “ew— atsumu, i was just kidding!”

he watches you laugh, his grin still up. “princess wants her toes sucked, i suck ‘em. princess wants the moon, i’m stealin’ NASA.”

you shake your head with a smile, “you’re dumb.” he shrugs, “and proud. call me the foot king!” he grabs your foot again and pampers it with kisses.

you stare for a sec, “can i record?” you ask softly.

“course, baby.”

[alpali]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I jus’—”

He hiccups.

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

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

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

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