#atsumu fanfiction

[heich0e]

JUST A TASTE - part one: salt miya atsumu/bartender!reader (haikyuu!) ao3 link word count: 3.3k tags: see series masterlist for more tags, enemies to customer service providers, f!reader, frequent mentions of alcohol a/n: this series is heavily informed by my understanding of western bar culture/mixology, so... suspension of disbelief, poetic license, forgive my ignorance, etc. my apologies + pls read at your own risk if that might bother you!

salty dog: 1.5oz gin or vodka, 4oz grapefruit juice, kosher salt, ice, grapefruit slice (optional for garnish). pour kosher salt onto a plate. rub grapefruit slice around the rim (or wet with tips of fingers and grapefruit juice) and dip the glass into the salt. reserve the grapefruit for serving if using. fill glass with ice. add vodka or gin, then top with grapefruit juice. stir gently to combine and garnish with the reserved grapefruit slice.

The most popular cocktail in the first bar you ever worked at was the Long Island iced tea.

You never knew why it was called a Long Island iced tea. The drink wasn't made with tea. You weren't even sure it came from Long Island—though the concoction undeniably stemmed from the excess of the west.

The cocktail's recipe was as complicated as the ambiguous etymology of its name: equal parts vodka, tequila, gin, rum, and triple sec; one and a half parts sour mix; all topped with a splash of coke to give it its familiar amber hue.

Like tea, maybe. If you'd never seen tea before.

The drink was stupid and convoluted, but they could get you fucked up pretty fast and didn't cost too much—which made it a fan-favourite among the broke students that crammed into the bar near your university campus every night of the week. Fridays they were even two for one, and the highest tally of Long Islands you'd ever made in a single night working the closing shift was three hundred and seventeen. It was on a Friday just after midterm week, and you’d almost thrown the last one right at the poor girl who’d ordered it at last call because you were so sick of mixing them.

Needless to say you were happy when you graduated and got a job at a nicer bar further in Osaka's city centre.

It was only supposed to be a temporary gig; just something to keep your lights on while you hunted for a job in your field. But all too quickly the career prospects that had seemed so promising with your diploma fresh in your hand quickly dried up, and so the drinks kept flowing.

The second bar was fancier than the one you’d worked at through college—the kind that named drinks after famous dead people and used coasters. It was frequented most often by young working professionals only slightly older (if at all) than yourself—dressed in suits and loosened ties, shirts unbuttoned at the collar, as they stopped by for a drink on their way home from the office or with a date on a Saturday night who they’d probably swiped right on on some app. You didn’t really mind working there all that much—the tips were more consistent, the spirits better quality, and you didn’t have to deal with obnoxious college boys slurring unsolicited advances at you over the counter while you poured them their fourth sake bomb of the night and resisted the urge to spit in it.

The most popular drink at this bar was a classic kamikaze, branded with a different name to justify the unnecessarily costly price attached to it. The recipe was a classic: equal parts lime juice, vodka, and triple sec; garnished with a slice of lime.

When you would leave the bar at the end of a shift, shuffling lethargically down the road to the humble apartment which you shared with two friends from college, you could still smell the sharp, astringent aroma of the green citrus fruit clinging to the tips of your fingers because of how many limes you'd used as garnish that night.

It was at that second bar that you learned to really enjoy bartending. It was easier to do in that place, when you weren’t focusing on quantity over quality; over making sure the senpai on the other side of the bar wasn’t getting too handsy with the junior girl you’d served one too many lemon sours that evening; over ensuring that someone didn’t steal the framed painting of Jumbo Ozaki off the wall (for the third time that month.) 

You found that, over time, the half-assed google searches and scanning job postings at the back of the Saturday newspaper stopped entirely; the books on your nightstand turned from a stack about finding your calling and nailing interviews to titles on mixology and spirits.

You got better at bartending too. You weren’t just fast and efficient (the only good thing that ever came out of that college bar job) but you had a good memory when it came to drinks—quickly becoming a walking encyclopaedia of not just recipes, but facts about spirits, wine, and beer that you used to charm customers into ordering the top shelf offerings, which translated into fatter tips left for you and your impressive wealth of trivia at the end of the night.

And then one day, an opportunity fell in your lap.

“I got a job at that new bar across town—you know the one on the top floor of that crazy high rise?” 

You looked up over the steaming bowl of ramen that was commanding the majority of your attention, your chopsticks pausing halfway to your open mouth.

Your coworker and friend, Shoji, peered back at you from the other side of the table after he said his piece. You should of known when he offered to take you out for lunch ahead of your shift that evening he’d had ulterior motives. 

“Ah,” you said, popping your food into your mouth and then speaking as you chewed. “Dees ah’ guilt noodows.”

“They are not guilt noodles, thank you.” Shoji laughed, slumping back in his chair as he watched you chew. He seemed to be contemplating something.

Shoji Taiyou was a few years older than you—closer to 35 than he was to your 25—and had been in the bar industry for twice as long as you had. He was still youthful in spite of it, with tattoos on his arm, a buzzed head, and a piercing in his eyebrow—and you rarely noticed the gap in ages between you. Above all else he was a good coworker. Reliable. The two of you had become fast friends when you’d started working at the second bar that took you on just after graduation.

You swallowed your mouthful of food.

“That place is fucking swanky—why the hell did they hire you?” you asked, but the comment had no grounds and you both knew it. He was as good of a bartender as they came, and had taught you a lot in the few years that you’d been working together. 

You’d miss him.

“My old friend from college is the manager,” Shoji said, reaching for his own chopsticks and picking out a piece of pork from his bowl. “He’s been trying to convince me to come on board for the past couple of months,” he explained, leaning on his elbow as he watched you fish out a shiitake from your own bowl of broth. “He came in last week to talk to me about it again—remember him?” 

You vaguely recalled the man, though you forgot his name. He was wearing a suit and had smiled a lot, showing off his unnaturally white teeth. He’d been pleasant enough. 

“He liked you,” Shoji said. “A lot.”

“I’m not interested in getting set up with your buddy even if he does run the fanciest bar in Osaka,” you said with a roll of your eyes, pointing your chopsticks at him warningly.

“He’s married,” Taiyou laughed. “And he doesn’t want to date you, he wants to hire you.”

You paused.

“Me?” 

Shoji had twice the wealth of experience you did, so it made sense he’d get scouted by another bar. But you? You were just a college grad who bartended because apparently art history majors were not, in fact, in such a high demand at the moment. 

“He said you made him one of the best cocktails he’s had in a long time.”

“I'm pretty sure he only ordered a highball...”

“Just think about it, will ya? He liked you, and I vouched for your skills,” Shoji said with a long-suffering sigh at your recalcitrance, letting his hand hit the table with a determined thud. The broth in your bowl rippled at the impact. “I’m putting in my two weeks today, so that gives you fourteen days to make up your mind as to whether or not you’re coming with me.”

And you did think about it.

A lot.

You thought about it while you worked that night—shaking a Martini over your shoulder for one of your regulars: a middle aged woman who was meeting with her lawyer as they discussed the third divorce she’d gone through since you started working at the bar. 

You thought about it while you shopped for groceries after your closing shift on the eighth day at the 24 hour grocery store by your apartment, choosing between vegetables and ice cream because your budget didn't allow for both. (You chose the ice cream.)

You thought about it while you vacuumed your apartment on the thirteenth day, tripping over the cord of the appliance with a face mask smeared thick across your t-zone that promised to help improve the brightness of your skin. It had been dull as of late, and you chalked it up to too much thinking.

You handed in your notice the next morning.

It hardly feels right to call the third bar you find yourself employed at a simple bar at all when it's so much more than that. 

It has stunning views of the city skyline from the top floor of a newly constructed high-rise. There’s polished glass, black marble, and a profusion of other modern finishes decorating the space in a tasteful, luxurious way that never feels too heavy-handed. But your favourite part of the modern, sumptuous bar has to be the atmospheric lighting that casts the entire space in a dim, ethereal glow without ever diminishing the view. 

Going to work every day still feels like a dream.

And it’s here that you really get to shine. 

The liquors behind the bar are expensive and imported. There are bottles of wine on the wine list that cost more than a month’s rent at your old apartment—which you’ve since given up in favour of a one bedroom closer to your new place of work, that you can afford now on your own thanks to the substantial pay increase you’d gotten when you’d accepted the new position.

The job comes with more responsibility, commensurate to the pay-raise, to be sure—you help to curate drink menus, source new and exciting additions to the spirit shelves and wine list, deal with any issues with distributors that crop up along the way. But you get to mix drinks, ones you come up with yourself, and it’s given you the space you need to thrive.

The clientele of the new bar is elite; politicians, actors, and athletes flock to the space in droves. They're the kind of people who don’t bat an eye at the hefty bills that land in their hands at the end of night, or think twice about how many zeroes they scribble on to the tip at the bottom of their receipt to be split between you and the waitstaff.

All in all, you find the patrons at the downtown bar to be mostly tolerable.

Except for one.

Miya Atsumu: professional volleyball player for the MSBY Black Jackals, part-time heartthrob, and full-time pain in your ass.

He shows up every Friday night with a date—a standing reservation in his name.

He always orders two cocktails.

Never the same one twice.

The women nor the drinks.

It had started a few weeks after you’d begun your new job: a busy Friday evening, as always, and the most popular drink that night seemed to be the cocktail that you and head bartender Shoji had come up with—a slightly more modern take on a classic whiskey sour.

You were in the process of making three more of the evening’s special when a head of peroxide blonde hair suddenly popped into your line of sight. You looked up, meeting a pair of suspiciously soft brown eyes peering at you from the other side of the sparkling bartop.

“Hello,” you greeted the man politely, wiping your damp hands on the apron tied around your waist, condensation from the shaker you’d just been holding clinging to your fingertips. “Can I help you?”

Your eyes flickered down to the man’s hands as he set them on the counter and leaned towards you—long, inarguably elegant fingers wrapped around two cocktails identical to the ones you’d just been preparing. One was mostly drained while the other barely touched, though you could spot the soft ring of a lipstick mark along the edge of the polished glass.

“I was wonderin’ if ya might be able to do me a huge favour,” the man asked, voice teeming with what you were sure was meant to be charm but immediately set your teeth on edge. You couldn’t help but have a sudden, visceral flashback to the college boys who would leer at you over the counter in your first bar, and you found yourself taking a half step back from him without thinking.

His eyes flashed with a quiet confusion at your unsubtle retreat, but he didn’t seem to let it stop him.

“Ya see, my date and I both ordered this cocktail—but she really hates whiskey.”

“It’s a whiskey sour,” you replied, forcing yourself to keep your tone professional though it still came out a little flat. Why someone who hates whiskey would order a drink that was made of it perplexed you—but it happened far more often than you cared to linger on in your line of work.

“I know—and I happen to think it’s delicious—I thought she’d like it too but she says she absolutely can’t drink it.”

“Alright, I’d be happy to make you something else,” you said, tone slightly clipped but still accommodating. “What can I get for you?”

“Well, what would you recommend?” he asked, his blonde head tilting curiously to the side.

Your eyes dropped down to the three almost completed cocktails in front of you, which you’d already allowed to rest for too long thanks to the unexpected distraction. You set about completing them while you spoke with the man. 

“Well, she doesn’t like whiskey. What spirit does she like?” You finished garnishing the cocktails, waving over the server who had been waiting for them at the edge of the bar to hand them off.

“Uh, dunno…” The man scratched absentmindedly behind his ear.

You blinked at him blankly, biting back a scoff.

“Alright, well does she like sweet things?” you tried again.

The man pursed his full lips. “Not sure about that either.”

“Is there anything you know about this woman?” The biting comment slipped out before you had the presence of mind to stopper it behind your teeth—and you momentarily panicked, wondering if he was going to take offence.

He merely grinned at you wolfishly.

“I know she's a swimsuit model.”

You very nearly sneered.

You curled your hands into fists out of sight below the bar, counting to five in your mind to calm the rage you felt building in your gut.

“Okay,” you said, turning away and grabbing some ingredients off the wall behind you.

It wasn’t anything particularly complicated—a slightly modified take on an Aperol spritz. The man watched you while you worked, mixing up the two cocktails with a measured hand, offering a few facts about the beverage along the way as you were accustomed to doing.

You finished the drink off with a bit of briney salt spray over the surface of the bubbling beverage, the champagne still fizzing from having only just been poured over the ice.

“What’s that?” the man asked, watching you mist the drinks.

“Saline solution,” you explained, running a clean cloth over the edge of the glass to clean up a little drop that had spilled over the lip. “It’s salty—like the sea. People say it reminds them of the beach.”

“Perfect fer a swimsuit model.” The man nodded approvingly, flashing you a winning smile.

“Sure,” you agreed half-heartedly, handing the drinks to the evening’s most annoying customer over the counter.

“I’ll be sure to let ya know what she thinks!” 

You bit back the comment sitting on the tip of your tongue telling him not to bother—catching yourself that second time before saying something you’d regret.

You didn’t need him to come and tell you his date enjoyed her drink—even though he did make a point of doing so on his way out, his cheeks flushed a little pinker and hair a little more dishevelled than it had been when he first approached the bar that evening. The three more rounds of the same cocktail that had been ordered for his table (and the hefty tip he’d left, with specific instructions that it was to go directly to you) really told you everything you needed to know.

It became a routine after that.

Miya comes in on a Friday night, some exorbitantly beautiful woman on his arm, and he’s quickly seated at whatever table the front of house staff has ready and waiting for him. 

Moments after that, he rises to approach you at the bar. 

He’ll offer you some minute detail about his date (though occasionally it is mercifully pertinent to their drink preferences—like a spirit they enjoy or a flavour they’re partial to) and you’re left to come up with a cocktail that will appeal to them.

“So, what’s the story with this one?” he asks one evening, a few months into the little ritual that has settled between you, leaning over the counter as you whip up a drink for his lady of the week. His hints that night were: daughter of a mogul, refined tastes, wants to get messed up.

“Comes from Monaco. They say the queen devised the recipe herself—all the bubble of champagne but twice the punch. Ladies weren’t allowed to drink hard liquor without it being seen as unbecoming, so this was a way they could get away with it and still have a good time.” You strain the slightly green tinted drink into the waiting champagne flutes below the shaker, watching as the frothy liquid pools in the basin of the glass.

“Nice.” The man nods in approval as you top both drinks off with a float from a freshly popped bottle of champagne. The colour of the drink softens even further with the addition of the effervescent wine, and in the dim light of the bar you can hardly even tell it isn’t pure champagne. 

“Two imperials for your prim and proper date.” You slide the drinks over to his waiting hands.

“She won’t be proper fer long." Atsumu winks at you over the counter and you wrinkle your nose in distaste.

Your interactions with the regular customer have also shifted in the weeks since he’d started bothering you with his patronage—far less professional than the tone you’d tried (poorly) to maintain on his first few visits to the bar. 

“Revolting,” you mutter.

“Thanks again! I’ll let you know how this one goes.”

“Just leave me a nice tip,” you say dismissively, wiping down the bartop with a clean cloth to prepare for the next drink orders waiting to be filled.

“I always do,” the man chirps back, flashing you the same grin he always does—charming, self-assured, and utterly carefree—as he steps away towards his waiting date once more.

But he’s right: for all of Atsumu’s shenanigans, he always leaves you a very generous tip at the end of the night. He always ensures to stop by on his way out—one arm wrapped around the waist of whatever absurdly good looking woman he’s conned into going out with him that week—to tell you that they loved their drinks and to slide a neatly folded stack of bills towards you across the counter.

He’s annoying, but he’s single-handedly financing your habit of buying the really good ice cream on your weekly grocery trip, so you don’t complain much. 

You watch as Atsumu crosses the length of the room to return to his table—this week he’s been seated at one not far from the bar, which affords you the perfect view of him sliding into his seat and handing one of the two drinks you’d just carefully prepared to the woman waiting for him.

She takes a sip and smiles, and you watch as Atsumu reaches out to brush a piece of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering just a moment longer than is necessary.

You look away with a roll of your eyes, setting to work on the numerous orders that have come in since you’d been busy preparing his drinks.

Good tipper or not, he really is completely shameless.

#miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu fanfiction #atsumu fanfiction #hq fic #hq writing #writing

[windydayey]

Fits perfectly

Atsumu Miya x Fem! Reader

Warnings : You'll have a mother (rip lol)

Safe to say you were extremely pissed right now, which is actually not very safe to say.

Your family were going to have a night picnic for New Years and the dress your mother wanted you to wear was a weird cotton night gown looking skirt.

You tried to fight against it but dear mother gave the puppy eyes as she folded it away silently to guilt trip you, which worked.

What can you say? You were an empath aww.

You and Tsumu were currently at the little restaurant near your school. It had always been a spot to hide for the two of you.

Tough day at school? Go there. He wants to hide from Kita? He drags you there. Hungry? Run there. First date? Also there. That place was like the refrigerator for you two, automatically going there without even any purpose now.

You both even had a regular customer discount there now, honestly? Good for you guys. Not to mention you and Atsumu both were good at buttering and sweet talking the owners out there you guys were basically their grandchildren now.

You were at your phone, your elbow on the table as your cheek leaned on your hand. You were reading urban legends. Atsumu didn't like this at all, he wanted you to chatter non-stop like everyday but looking at how you were tapping your foot. He knew it. He knew you were definitely not in the mood to tolerate any sort of crap.

So he silently cursed 'Tch what a weirdo.'

However you unfortunately heard that even in the noise of the utensils and the pressure cookers whistles. "The hell you just said now?" You looked at him and raised your eyebrow.

He just sucked his cheeks and looked away quickly. "Don't try me I'm not in the mood today." You warned him and he turned to you immediately and looked you in the eyes smiling like an idiot "Yer not telling me what happened I needa know what's bothering ya sugar" You sighed "Forced to wear some weird outfit by......you know"

And the next thing you knew you were in your house as the said gown is in Atsumu's hands "What do ya mean??? It's FINE" of course it wasn't a fine gown at all but Atsumu just wanted you to feel less embarassed about it "Yanno what? Wait right here." He just headed to some other rooms like that he's lucky your parents were going to be busy at the funeral of a distant friend of theirs for a few days.

You didn't even question where he was gonna go you were too tired so you just sat down and started texting your friend and rant to her.

"TA- DA!" He came out of nowhere.

You looked up from your phone and-

"pfft-" you started laughing, Atsumu wore the gown good thing it was strap gown else it wouldn't have fit him. It did yet the top part tightening around his flat figure was so hilarious to witness.

"whAT?? I look good in it!? Better than you atleast ??" You wiped a tear "ohh- hh definitely not-" he started posing and catwalking "If it looks this good on me it'll definitely look even better on ya duh"

"Stand there let me take a pic and send it to my mom" you raised your phone jokingly "wait- what? AUNTIE!? NO- NOPE" he covered himself with his hands in such a comedic manner. You got up and wrapped your arms around his waist then played with his hair "Why are you like this?" You smiled "Yer even weirder...you scare me sometimes" he pouted.

You sighed and layed a finger in his chest "This fits you well" he grabbed your cheeks and started lightly shaking your head "Then it will fit ya even perfectly."

-

//daily Atsumu brainrot at its job ah yes

#miya atsumu #atsumu hcs #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu #haikyuu ff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hc #atsumu miya #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu ff #atsumu fanfic #atsumu fanfiction

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 - haikyuu edition

So here is the complete masterlist i did for kinktober 2023, and it is an all haikyuu special! I’m excited to share all these with you and I hope you like them!

Day 1: THIGH RIDING - Miya Atsumu x reader

Day 2: THREESOME - Bokuto Koutaro x reader x Akaashi Keiji

Day 3: PHONE SEX - Oikawa Tooru x reader

Day 4: SHOWER/TUB - Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Day 5: MUTUAL MASTURBATION - Kageyama Tobio x reader

Day 6: ORAL - Terushima Yuuji x reader

Day 7: ORGASM DENIAL - Matsukawa Issei x reader

Day 8: DOMINATION - Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader

Day 9: SKINNY DIPPING - Hinata Shoyo x reader

Day 10: VIDEO TAPING - Suna Rintarou x reader

Day 11: STRANGERS - Iwaizumi Hajime x reader

Day 12: PUBLIC PLAY - Tendou Satori x reader

Day 13: GROUP SEX - Seijoh 4 x reader

Day 14: AGE DIFFERENCE - Ukai Keishin x reader

Day 15: MORNING SEX - Bokuto Koutaro x reader

Day 16: DADDY - Miya Osamu x reader

Day 17: DIRTY TALK - Miya Atsumu x reader

Day 18: HAIR PULLING - Kozume Kenma x reader

Day 19: SPANKING - Iwaizumi Hajime x reader

Day 20: SCRATCHING - Bokuto Koutaro x reader

Day 21: WINDOW - Suna Rintarou x reader

Day 22: KNOT - Miya Osamu x reader

Day 23: VOYEURISM - Kageyama Tobio x reader x Oikawa Tooru

Day 24: CAR - Miya Atsumu x reader

Day 25: COCKWARMING - Sugawara Koushi x reader

Day 26: DEGRADATION - Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Day 27: HATE SEX - Kuroo Tetsuro x reader

Day 28: DOUBLE PENETRATION - Kita Shinsuke x reader x Miya Osamu

Day 29: BRAT TAMING - Kita Shinsuke x reader

Day 30: OVERSTIMULATION - Sugawara Koushi x reader

Day 31: BREEDING KINK - Miya Osamu x reader

#kinktober 2023 #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #suna rintaro x reader #bokuto x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #ukai keishin x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #kozume kenma x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #terushima yuuji x reader #tendou satori x reader

[the-haikyuu-trash]

oikawa toru, bokuto koutaro, kuroo tersuro, matsukawa issei, atsumu miya, konoha akinori, meian shugo, hinata shoyo, tanaka ryunosuke, sugawara koushi, tendou satori

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fanfiction #x reader #haikyuu fluff #fluff #haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya #bokuto koutaro #haikyuu!! #miya atsumu #oikawa tooru #oikawa #kuroo tetsuro #haikyuu hc #matsukawa issei #hinata shoyou #konoha akinori #meian #meian shugo #tanaka ryunosuke #haikyuu headcanons #oikawa hc #kuroo hc #bokuto hc #hinata gc #atsumu hc #matsukawa hc #sugawara koushi #tendo satori

[byunbqbes]

HIGH TENSION SCENARIOS WITH HQ BOYS

RIDING PUBLIC TRANSPORT – where it's peak hour on the train, and you're getting squashed against him. you can smell his minty deodorant and, if you're not imagining things, hear the thumps of his heart in his chest. (it's your fault for looking up at him through your eyelashes!!) when you're nearing your stop, he leans down and whispers in your ear, "we're getting off soon."

IWAIZUMI, ushijima, osamu, bokuto, daichi (SORRY IM NAMING ALL THE BEEFY MEN...)

TOUCHING SHOULDERS – you are watching a movie together when he starts getting comfortable and scoots closer, accidentally grazing his shoulder against yours. none of you are focusing on the movie and you're both thinking to yourselves, does this mean anything more?

akaashi, kita, KAGS (boy would start blushing SO much), kenma, sugawara, sakusa

SHARING A BED – awkwardly lying as far away from each other as possible, only to wake up with entangled limbs and your head on his chest. one of you wakes up first and quietly observes how peaceful the other looks and how beautiful they were with the soft morning sun kissing their skin.

yamaguchi, mattsun, ushijima, sugawara, hinata, SAKUSA (this man will literally ASK you to sleep further from him before unknowingly spooning you in his sleep lol)

PUTTING SOMETHING OUT OF YOUR REACH – he probably just showed you an unglam picture that he took of you, and you reached over to snatch his phone out of his hand. but he's quicker - he raises his phone above his head to make you jump for it. he smiles smugly while you whine, tiptoeing to the best of your efforts. both of you are suddenly very aware of the sudden proximity between you. tense silence ensues

kuroo, SUNA, oikawa, TSUKISHIMAdjkfnsdkfn, tendou, atsumu, bokuto??

inspired by this tiktok: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS8uasSBx/

🥐 reblogs are very appreciated!!

#hq #hq imagines #hq x you #hq hcs #hq fanfic #hq sakusa #hq kageyama #hq oikawa #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq fluff #haikyuu au #haikyuu fanfiction #suna rintarō #atsumu x reader #kuroo tetsurou #hq suna #hq scenarios #hq images #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi x you #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #hq headcanons #ushijima wakatoshi #kageyama tobio #kuroo x y/n #suna x reader

[kairismess]

HE MIGHT'VE ... MESSED UP.

🏐 genre: fluff !

🍰 summary: he might've pushed you a little over the edge, and when you gave him the silent treatment, he couldn't handle it. he's gonna make it up to you, somehow.

🍥 author's note: is this just an excuse to make an smau? yes no

atsumu miya

atsumu tends to be very annoying when you're ignoring him. you used to think he was aware on how clingy and irritating he can be in hope to get your attention, but no, you have a feeling that–with how much he's been blowing your notifs up, he's probably unaware of how insufferable his apology is. but in a way, it becomes a little... sweet. just a little bit.

fast forward to a few hours later, and he's at your doorstep with all your favorite foods. he calls you, and in a sweet (yet unbearably smug) voice, tells you, "see, sweetie? it's not easy to ignore me... now please don't ignore me ever again, i can't take it... and let me in, please? i wanna apologize! and maybe... make out with you as an apology?"

he's looking up at you with desperation in his brown orbs, with a smile that really hoped you'd let him in and correct his mistakes; and show you that he loves you too much to let you stay mad at him for so long.

tooru oikawa

oikawa isn't the best at communication, despite being so charismatic and able to charm so many of his fans, he has always been scared of losing you. he has had exes before, but he never wished to make one out of you; he loved you too much, he couldn't imagine his life before he met you anymore or had you as his own. hence, he did everything in his power to get you back... through messaging you desperately.

surprisingly, this worked.

and the next day, he was at your beck and call. he'd carry your bag and things for you, take you to your every class, compliment you here and there, treat you to your favorite snacks, buy you things to keep you from getting angry at him, and dedicating every serve at practice for you, despite the other guys on the team (specifically iwaizumi) wanting to punch him for indirectly showing off his lovely girlfriend.

but, no matter, as long as he fixed his mistake and made you happy again... he was okay with it all.

rintaro suna

this boy had a tendency to anger you, and being his girlfriend, you were basically forced to be the butt of all his teasing. one day, he went too far on accident, and you ignored him for almost a week. if this was anyone else, suna would just shrug it off and wait until they'd talk to him again.

but you weren't just anybody. you were the one to suna, even if he didn't show it–he loved you, and he missed having you by his side. he knew he needed to talk to you again, no matter how awkward it'd be.

and he did just that. he facetimed you in the middle of practice and apologized to you over the phone with his classic neutral face. but his tone was slightly different, it carried an air of genuine apology–and his eyes bore into yours, not tearing his eyes away from you for even a second.

he hopes he can be with you tomorrow at school, so he can admire all your beauty the next day. he'll cut back on the teasing, for now, he'll just compliment you and tell the truth: you're too gorgeous for him to handle (while showing you atsumu and osamu's latest brawl).

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #suna rintaro #suna x reader #suna haikyuu #suna rintaro x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x f!reader #hq x female reader #atsumu x female reader #suna x female reader

[yandere-sins]

Do you think the miya twins would ever "mess around" with their darling at the same time? Ik they usually don't touch her like that unless they have her to themselves. Idk, I think it'd be fun to have the two crazies fighting over her as they have sex.

Oh yeah, totally!

[Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content]

Osamu is gracious, almost lenient. He knows Atsumu needs his alone time with you after a hard day of training, to celebrate his victory, or to just shut him up for a while. Having you bounce on his cock until he's satisfied is sure to knock Atsumu out for a while, as he'll be sleeping like a baby after a good fuck. And, to be honest, Osamu doesn't always want to deal with his brother's whining because you moaned the "wrong" name or because you've been kissing Osamu for too long. He just wants to be concentrating on your and his pleasure, knowing his brother can get off just fine by slamming into you but Osamu likes taking his sweet time. Also, Osamu is fully aware that his presence and extra stimulation could overwhelm you (although he enjoys that).

Regardless, that means he'll be the one to back off 7 out of 10 times, whisking you away after Atsumu is done for some fun in the bathtub and to help clean you up. Or he enjoys the rare time he has alone with you, bending you over the kitchen counter or taking you into the twin's room for somewhere more comfortable. There's also the delayed gratification in listening to your moans coming from the other room while he's cooking, his cock throbbing and waiting for his own chance of release that Osamu so likes. And he really likes being the one to pick up the you in pieces that Atsumu leaves behind, making sure you know he's the one to rely on in this weird relationship.

But there are times it can't be helped. I mean, look at you; how can anyone resist you?!

Surely not those two!

It's mostly when Osamu and you are getting frisky, and Atsumu comes home too early and catches you. He really has no shame, and there will be an unoccupied spot he can squeeze himself into. There's so much excitement in his eyes when he sees you, already hot and heavy, dazed, crying, or otherwise deliciously pleasured, and he can't help himself from asking you if you're enjoying his brother's dick and if you want to feel even better. He'll be so vocal about how pretty you are and how well you are taking Osamu's cock. How you'll be able to fit one more and take Atsumu as well, looking absolutely brilliant like this. If your mouth isn't occupied, Atsumu will make you tell him all about how you're feeling, asking you to say where his brother is making you feel good and apply some more stimulation that Osamu might have missed. Atsumu is always a little rougher with you, but he knows where to twist and pull to make your back arch, and he's the best when it comes to praising and degrading you, depending on what you need at that moment. And he knows. He always knows where you're itching to be touched, and if not, he'll make you tell him, kiss you feverishly when you speak up, and do everything you need him to do.

The twins might nag a bit at each other, but you know better than anyone that their teamwork is dreamwork. If they get together, you'll be drowning in pleasure until you no longer feel like the trapped darling you are. They'll make you feel like you belong. Like you are their lover and as if you want to be their bitch, chasing just one more height. The two of them are as addicting and devastating as drugs, but you'll never find anyone who knows your body better. Who's touch will make you cry from joy and who controls you from your thoughts to your orgasm, allowing you to let go of any worry or fear.

Although more rare, there are also times when Osamu joins you and Atsumu. Interestingly, Atsumu does give out an invitation every time Osamu walks in on you and his brother cock-deep inside you. It might be a jest, but Atsumu is unpredictable and mischievous in that way, and Osamu, too, can't resist his pretty darling, writhing and moaning in front of him, desperately in need of his attention. (It's what he tells himself, at least.) Sometimes, it's enough to watch you and his brother go at it as he jerks himself off, but on the very good days, Osamu will do anything to worship you, putting your pleasure before his, especially after seeing his brother rough you up. Isn't it nice of him to kiss all those bites and scratches? Osamu's hands can be so amazing as they dance across your skin, leaving trails of his touch from one hickey to another that make you gasp while his palms almost seem to burn when they settle. You'll want to nod and confirm any of his questions because you know he'll treat you to mind-breaking stimulation when you do. Of course you'll suck his fingers, push out your tongue for him and let him play with your hair as he rearranges you into new positions, making you feel things even deeper to the point both you and Atsumu are trembling and moaning.

Having the full attention of one twin can be exhausting or quite one-sided. But once you have both, you'll start to forget that you never wanted any of this.

Because in those moments, you'll only want more.

#Atsumu #Osamu #yandere atsumu #yandere osamu #Haikyuu!! #Haikyuu #HQ!! #yandere haikyuu #yandere!haikyuu #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[cr4yolaas]

not strong enough — miya osamu

notes: based off of “not strong enough” by boygenius <3

tags: reverse comfort, cheating implications (no actual cheating), self-deprecation + jealousy (osamu), super heartfelt tho

osamu hadn’t been home lately.

the kitchen was devoid of heart and soul. gone was the warmth that seeped into the apartment at his presence, or the comfort that his voice provided as it wafted through the halls. you didn’t see nor feel him anymore, save for the few glimpses of him getting ready before the sun could even greet your windowsill.

miya osamu was disappearing from your life, and you could do nothing but prepare for it.

you instantly feared the worst — that he was planning to leave you, or that he was seeking solace in another, or anything else that involved him separating himself from the life he built in your shared home. and so, delusion after delusion fed into one another, thus leading to an overwhelming bubble of anxiety that infected every inch of your bones.

when you had finally seen him — not just witnessed his shadow in the darkness of a lonesome bedroom — he appeared as if he had just barely dragged himself home. his skin hung heavy under his eyes, his hair was oily and tousled, his hands seemingly obtained an impossible amount of callouses and burns and scratches. you did not say a word, fearful for his response. instead, you held him in your arms in the doorway as he collapsed to the floor, the buckle of his knees bringing you down with him.

you could hear the remnants of an apology muttered into your shirt (his shirt, truthfully).

“what was that, ‘samu?” you whispered, your voice barely reaching his ears.

he turned his head to look to the side with his cheek still firm on your shoulder. “don’t ya ever wish things were different?”

his voice was hoarse; it was littered with exhaustion and pain and misery that you could not begin to understand. his question nestled itself deep into your lungs. you weren’t entirely sure what he was asking.

“a life where you’re living comfortably … and you’re free to do whatever your want …” he began to trail off, his features lined with sleepiness. “didn’t ya ever want that?”

you began to rub circles around his back, which was damp from the sweat that accumulated beneath his work uniform. you were waiting patiently for him to say it — to tell you to go pursue greater things to conceal his desire to rid himself of you, or that he didn’t deserve you because he had committed an act of betrayal. but instead, he continued, “‘tsumu’s doing great things … ‘n he’s rich ‘n happy ‘n famous and so much more. but what about me? what have i done?”

his words dissipated gradually. the cracks in his voice exposed him quite easily, not to mention the teardrops staining your skin. “you’ve done more than enough for me, ‘samu. i’m sorry i didn’t make you feel that way.” your boyfriend only gripped onto your harder, as if he were scared you would melt away if he didn’t.

“i jus’ wanna make you happy. i’m not sure if my job can even do that,” he muttered. “i’m trying to work harder at the shop, but i’m scared it isn’t enough.”

if it were situationally acceptable, you would have heaved a heavy sigh of relief. but it was not — so instead, you began to hold him impossibly tighter. “you don’t need to work so hard for me to love n’ appreciate you. everything about you is enough to make me happy,” you spoke softly to him. “as long as you’re by my side, i’m happy.”

miya osamu, despite his intricacies, was a delicate man at heart. that night, as you held him at the front door, the porcelain shell concealing his truest soul had shattered.

#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #haikyuu osamu #osamu haikyuu #osamu miya #miya osamu #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #osamu angst #osamu smut #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu haikyuu #atsumu miya

[verslxt]

shut up let me sleep ft haikyuu boys

“mhm shut up” you mumbled out as they persisted with bugging you. the finally got up from the bed and let you sleep opting to go to the kitchen and make you breakfast instead it’s about 45 minutes later when they come in with a plate of bacon, eggs, grits (SO GOOD) and pancakes “love you didn’t have to do this!” you say sitting up. “i did it because i love you” they say setting the trey down

ushijima, kita, aran, iwaizumi, and mainly ushijima, asahi, suga, daichi(maybe semi)

“mhm shut up let me sleep” “no.”

atsumu, hinata, bokuto, nishinoya, suna, tanaka, goshiki, oikawa and tendou

“mhm let me sleep” “fine” *sits on phone till you wake up*

suna, sakusa, semi, iwaizumi, ushijima (sometimes) daichi, suga, and tendou (also sometimes)

#suna rintarō #suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro scenarios #atsumu miya #atsumu fluff #hq atsumu #miya atsumu #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #haikyuu #haikyuu captains #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader headcanons #haikyuu x y/n

[kleftiko]

❦ TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF PT. 2

ft. sakusa, kageyama, atsumu

PART 1

—sakusa

when people ask you what your skin care routine is, you shrug. how are you supposed to know if you’re not the one that does it? your boyfriend does. you’re his little doll that sits pretty for him as he places the products in his hands to warm them up before patting them on your soft skin (patting, not rubbing, he’s very insistent on that). it’s a multiple step routine everyday and sometimes he’s very annoying about it, but he rewards you with a soft kiss on your lips every single time without fail.

—kageyama

takes you two on a monthly date to get your nails done. the both of you are sitting side by side as your cuticles are getting cut and his nails are getting shaped. he’s helping you pick out a new colour and he’s telling the nail techs all the new shit that’s going on with his team. even though he doesn’t get any polish (doesn’t want anything on his fingers) he still blows on them like he sees you do. then he’s paying and, depending on the weather, taking you to get a drink so you can show everyone at the cafe your new nails.

—atsumu

sometimes washing your hair is a hassle. you get into a rut where you can’t bring yourself to shower despite feeling like shit. that’s where your boyfriend comes in, with his wide smile and gentle teasing, he sits you down in the tub and lets the hot water run down your body. he’s mixing together random shampoos, acting like they’re different ingredients for a salad that is your hair. his fingers are massaging your scalp as he pretends to ‘toss’ the ‘ingredients’ together. it’s sweet and funny and even if it doesn’t bring you out of your slump, it makes you feel clean and loved.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama haikyuu #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa fanfiction #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #kageyama x reader #kageyama fluff #kageyama imagines #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu imagines #atsumu fic #kageyama x y/n #kageyama x you #atsumu headcanons #atsumu x you

[kitasgloves]

You're an Inarizaki graduate in a relationship with the SAKUSA KIYOOMI. You were close with the Miya bros, especially Atsumu, and friends with the entire Inarizaki volleyball club. You already had a longtime crush on Sakusa when you watched the practice match between Inarizaki and Itachiyama. You were forever grateful that Atsumu forced you to watch game because you wouldn't be able to have seen Sakusa.

You're working as PR in the MSBY Black Jackals and got reunited with Atsumu (unfortunately). He knows your big fat crush on Sakusa and tries to be your wingman. His plan? He gets you drunk in a party and forces you in a room alone with Sakusa. He claimed it would give you the enough courage to confess.

You confessed but you couldn't remember what Sakusa's reaction was. It ended up with Sakusa taking you to his place because you're incredibly drunk and unable to get home on your own. You woke up to the worst hungover since college and a shirtless Sakusa making breakfast calling you 'darling'.

The rest is history. You and Sakusa have been together for more than two years. Although you two seemed like the ideal couple, there has been frequent verbal fights lately. It mostly had something to do with conflicting schedules and a lot of dates cancelled. Sakusa was a busy athlete and your job as the PR didn't mix well with his hectic schedule.

"This is the fifth time that I have to cancel reservation, Omi!"

"Then just stop making reservations! You know how busy I am so don't get mad that I couldn't make up to our date!"

"You could've at least made an effort to! Or say sorry!"

"We've gone through this over and over again [Name] and I'm getting sick of it"

"So, what? You're sick of me?"

"Maybe I am!"

This argument was different from the previous. You were left stunned as Sakusa breathlessly glared at you, shattering your heart into smithereens. Immediately, your eyes felt wet as you turned around, grabbed your keys, phone, and wallet and stormed out of the apartment. You completely missed the sheer regret that erupted on Sakusa's face.

You called up Atsumu and asked to meet up at Onigiri Miya. When you arrived there and saw the blonde setter, you quickly went in for a hug and sobbed your poor heart out. Atsumu knew you had another fight with your boyfriend since you've been telling him about it for the past few days. It seemed like today, a line was crossed.

Sakusa tried reaching your phone but you have put your phone in airplane mode. Osamu kindly made you your favorite onigiri as you told them about the fight. Of course, the twins took over your side because they've known you for a very long time. You stayed over at Osamu's and had a sleepover with the Miya twins.

The next day, Sakusa was driving all the way to Osamu's place. He has found your whereabouts through his cousin Komori who he got from his teammate, Suna Rintaro. He sucked in a breath and knocked on the door. What he was not expecting was a very serious-faced Atsumu Miya answering the door.

"The hell are ya doin' here?"

"I need to pick up my girlfriend"

"She doesn't wanna be with ya right now"

"That's none of your business, Miya"

Atsumu gives Sakusa a humorless laugh and gives him the most intimidating glare that Sakusa has ever seen from him. Usually, the blonde setter is all smirks and smiles but seeing this death glare from him actually made Sakusa physically shiver.

"Ya made her cry all the way over here sayin' that yer sick of her! Do ya have any idea of the amount of effort she puts in scheduling a dinner fer the both of ya 'cuz she misses ya so much?"

Sakusa was officially speechless as he gulped. He rigidly stands there and gets his well-deserved scolding from Atsumu Miya of all people.

"[Name] means a lot to me 'cuz she's like a sister so if I ever catch her cry 'cuz of you again, I will personally beat yer ass then skin ya alive and give ya some bonus ass whoopin' from Osamu and the entire Inarizaki alumni"

Atsumu warned him. And Sakusa makes sure to keep that in mind. The blonde sighs and finally takes a step aside from the door.

"Go apologize to her and make up, Omi-kun"

Sakusa doesn't need to be told twice as he rushed inside the apartment, not bothering to take off his shoes and pounced at you in the kitchen. You just woke up but you were pleasantly surprised with your boyfriend profusely apologizing to you.

Osamu places a hand on his hip and looked at his twin. Atsumu was smiling as if he didn't just threatened Sakusa earlier.

"What did ya tell him?"

"Oh nothing, just gave him a little warnin' that's all"

Osamu knows Atsumu is a lying piece of shit.

#— ♬ ©kitasgloves #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #miya atsumu #miya osamu #komori motoya #suna rintarou #inarizaki #haikyuu msby

[wttcsms]

triple trouble, atsumu miya

pairing atsumu miya x f!reader word count 1.6k synopsis atsumu steals every reporters' attention as he introduces the media to his triplets during a post-game interview; or, more accurately, his triplets steal all the attention. like father, like sons. content contains domestic fluff, dad!atsumu, atsumu & reader are married and so in love, babies, mention of pregnancy more in this collection!

The flashes of cameras going off, the constant exclamations of “Miya! Miya!” coming from the crowd of journalists and reporters all vying for his attention, the fact that the foldout chairs they use for all these post-game interviews are harder on your ass than falling on asphalt — all of this is being handled with ease by a smug Atsumu Miya.

Or, normally all of this would be handled with ease by a smug Atsumu Miya.

But right now, the Atsumu Miya struggling to take a seat in the most uncomfortable chair known to man, dyed hair a mess, his usual trademark smirk replaced by furrowed brows and a look of concentration, doesn’t appear to be the godlike adversary on the court. In fact, he looks oddly human. 

The cause of what has humbled this cocky athlete and reduced him to mere mortal man are the three chubby toddlers he’s cradling in his arms. 

All of them are identical, from their chubby cheeks to their little grubby hands. Heads full of thick, dark brown hair (reminiscent of their father’s natural color) poke out from Atsumu’s hold, and the eighteen-month-olds’ eyes are all full of childlike wonder as they watch the crowd, confused as to who all these people are. 

After finally getting settled into his seat, Atsumu addresses the crowd casually, as if he didn’t spend the last two minutes ensuring that his baby boys weren’t going to slip from his arms while he tried to prepare for this interview. Akimitsu is secured in his left arm, Akihiko in the right, leaving poor Akinari to cling onto Atsumu’s neck. 

While athletes have been getting more comfortable with bringing their kids up on stage with them, no one has ever seen a professional athlete haul his three babies with him. 

A fact that one reporter is more than happy to point out.

“Miya, wife put you on babysitting duty?” A male journalist calls out from the crowd. A few chuckles follow, but Atsumu just smiles at the mention of you.

“Nah. It’s not babysittin’ if they’re your damn kids, right? Besides, she deserves a break.” A few appreciative murmurs flutter through the crowd. 

After the initial surprise of seeing identical triplets being carried in the MSBY Black Jackals’ setter’s arms, the reporters are back to business as usual. They’re all professionals — even if hearing Atsumu give them a great quote to use as a hook (“I respect Nakamura as a human bein’ but calling him a setter for a professional league volleyball team is an insult to setters everywhere.”) is followed by him cooing sweet words of affirmation to whichever of his sons happens to be babbling in his ears. 

“Nakamura isn’t a very good player, is he, Akihiko?” No one outside of your family and his teammates have ever heard Atsumu sound so affectionate. His words are practically coated in sugar, and it’s hard to remember that he’s insulting another player in the league whenever he’s practically bumping noses with his toddler son when he says it. 

Akihiko, most likely due to his father’s influence, lets out a stream of enthusiastic gurgles that Atsumu automatically translates to him being in complete agreement with him. 

“Write that down.” He says to the crowd. “Even my baby knows he’s shit at the game.” 

There’s a few more minutes of Atsumu answering the usual post-game questions, but halfway through one of his responses, Akinari loses his grip on Atsumu’s neck and is about to tumble to the floor before Atsumu’s reflexes kick in. You’ve made a joke once that you think Atsumu’s reflexes have become heightened after becoming a father; his athletic instincts have merged with the famous “dad reflexes” all fathers seem to be gifted with. (Atsumu tells reporters that this is why he keeps on becoming a better player; people think his family would hold him back, but once again, family is his greatest blessing.)

“Ya gotta hang onto me, buddy.” Atsumu can’t even pretend to be stern when he tells this to Akinari, who only smiles at him and exclaims something unintelligible. He shifts Akinari to his left arm, relaxes back in his seat, and is even excited to answer a question concerning his play style compared to Tobio Kageyama’s, but as he readjusts the two boys in his arms, Atsumu can’t help but startle at the fact that he has three kids. Not just two. 

Momentarily panicked, he almost wants to ask why the hell no one told him one of his kids jumped ship but then he feels a tug on the bottom hem of his volleyball shorts. 

Peering under the table, Atsumu is greeted with the sight of Akimitsu’s mischievous little face. He’s the oldest of the three and takes after Atsumu the most — meaning, he’s the cutest little nightmare there could ever be. 

“Whatcha doin’ under the table, Mitsu?” Atsumu asks, and Akimitsu gives out a happy, gleeful shriek. He’s clapping his grubby hands together and cheering. 

“Dada found me!” 

“I did find ya, buddy.” Atsumu coos. “Now why don’t you come sit on daddy’s lap?” 

After wrangling up all his kids once more, Atsumu sighs and looks up at the timer in front of him. 

“I have enough time for one more question.” He tells the crowd.

“Are you excited to get out of here and get back home to the wife?” 

“I’m always happy to come home to [Name]. If there’s a professional league for motherhood, she’s going into the hall of fame. I don’t know how she handles these fools by herself all day.” 

Akihiko takes a tiny, chubby hand and smacks Atsumu in the face. Repeatedly. 

“Home! Home!” His slaps get slightly more aggressive, but Atsumu’s received some serves with his face before, so it doesn’t really phase him. “Home! Mama!” 

“Well, you heard the man.” Atsumu actually gives a genuine smile for the cameras. “We gotta head home.”

You’re applying your moisturizer in the bathroom despite the mirror being fogged up from the hot shower. It’s probably why you don’t anticipate strong arms wrapping themselves around your body, and you gasp before your muscle memory recognizes him. Your body easily relaxes against his, and you’re smiling as you ask your husband, 

“Had a good day today?”

“We took ‘em in two straight sets. Slaughtered the other team to the point where it wasn’t even fair.” He angles his head just right so he can kiss you on the cheek, but you gently slap him away.

“I’m putting on moisturizer right now.”

“Great. My lips are dry.” He goes in for another kiss, and even though you’re giggling, trying to pull away from him, he still plants a peck on your soft skin. “Should I go for seconds, just for good measure?” He teases.

“Hmm, I guess so.” 

“Oh? What’s with the change? Realize how much you can’t live without my touch?” He pulls you in closer to him, your back pressed firmly against his chest. He’s fresh out the shower, stray droplets of water greedily clinging onto his skin. 

“Maybe.” You tilt your head back on the front of his shoulder so that you can see him. “You know your interview is trending on Twitter, right?” 

“Oh, yeah? Bet Nakamura’s pissed.” Atsumu sounds too happy at the concept. 

“No. There’s actually an interesting clip that keeps going around. Someone already used it as an intro for a thirst edit of you.” 

You like it when Atsumu is thinking. There’s an adorable crease in between his furrowed brows, and you can practically see him going through the memory files in his brain, trying to figure out what could possibly be worthy of inspiring an edit of him. 

“You seriously don’t know?” You’re laughing at him, and it’s the sweetest sound in the world. Atsumu doesn’t take kindly to being the butt of a joke, but from the moment he saw you, he knew he’d do anything to stay by your side, even becoming a fucking court jester if that’s what it took. 

You reach for your phone on the counter, taking a few seconds to load up the fan edit you have favorited. 

He’s burying his face in your hair, hiding away as he hears the audio of him going now why don’t you come sit on daddy’s lap playing on a loop. He groans when you let it replay, uncharacteristically shy as you keep telling him to watch it. 

“The comments are the best part, though, baby!” You haven’t been able to stop giggling at jackingthejackalsoff’s very bold and very true statement of yeah, if i were [name], i’d pop out triplets for him too tf 😭🙏.  

As Atsumu’s hands travel to rest against the growing swell of your belly, you tease him. “So, when the twins are born, do you think you’ll have enough space in your arms to haul all five of our kids, or should we finally use that baby chest carrier Shoyo gifted us?” 

“I can carry all of ‘em and you onto that stage.” He regrets making this smug remark whenever you slightly drop your teasing tone and use what he dubs The Mom Voice on him.

“Oh? If that’s true, then why did it take you so long to realize Akimitsu crawled out of your arms while you were busy calling your opponents scrubs?” 

“Have I ever told you what a wonderful mother you are? And this moisturizer! Wow, I don’t know what you’ve been doing with your skin, baby, but keep it up.” He’s peppering your face with more kisses, hurriedly trying to change the subject, and you gladly let him.

#atsumu miya x you #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #hq x reader #hq headcanons #fluff #one shot #drabble #hq fanfiction #atsumu headcanons #dad!atsumu #imagine #series: sweet everything

[captain-hawks]

STRESS RELIEF

♡ — atsumu miya x f!reader

Atsumu may be a legendary setter, but he’s also an incredibly sore loser. And all other forms of post-game slump stress relief pale in comparison to a particular one he shares with you.

18+ ONLY

wc — 2.4k

prompt — lactation kink

additional content — established relationship, fingering, squirting, coming in pants, coming untouched, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, cockwarming, questionable refractory periods, multiple orgasms, cum eating, insatiable Atsumu, Miya twin bickering, timeskip!Atsumu

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“Is there a reason ya always call me to babysit after losin’ a game?” 

Atsumu can hear the exasperation in his brother’s voice on the other end of the line, dulled slightly by the hum of customers chattering away in the background. He ignores Osamu’s question, shifting slightly from where he’s seated on the bench in the locker room as he tugs at his sweat-soaked MSBY jersey, pulling the material free from its damp grip on his chest.

“Some godfather you are,” he snarks back, offering Bokuto a wave as he slaps him on the back while walking past him on his way to the showers. “And how’d ya know we lost anyway, ain’t ya at work?”

Osamu snorts, “Had the game on in the office while I was working on the books. You played like shit.”

“Bite me,” Atsumu huffs, running a hand through his haphazard blonde locks. 

“I’m leavin’ the restaurant in about an hour.”

“I’m droppin’ her off in forty-five.”

“Take a goddamn shower first, ya pig. I can smell you from here.”

“Fuck you, Samu.”

He can practically hear the middle finger that his brother proffers to the phone as Osamu laughs, hanging up on him. Atsumu trudges to the showers to wash away the grime from the court—and hopefully some of his sour mood in the process.

—

In the years that you’ve been together, Atsumu has always been a sore loser when it comes to his favorite sport, even more so once he went pro. He cycles through different ways of working through his disappointment with himself after tough games, ranging from forcing himself to run miles on end until he’s nearly throwing up when he regretfully calls you to come and pick him up halfway across town, to dragging Osamu out for impromptu boxing sessions (“Ya tryin’ to make yer face even more ugly?!”), to binge eating ice cream on the couch (until he’s then also throwing up). 

Sex, of course, is also one of his favorite (and least self-destructive) options, though his frustration-fuelled stamina is enough to leave you both fucked out beyond belief. 

However, following the birth of your daughter just over a year ago, Atsumu found…a new form of stress relief.

One where he’d prefer to have no interruptions. 

Hence the recruitment of Uncle Osamu, who probably just thinks his pouty, needy brother forces him into babysitting duties to have loud, raunchy sex with his wife all night. 

Not quite.

—

“You’re worse than our daughter,” you fondly groan at Atsumu when he immediately starts tugging off your jacket the moment you step in your front door after swinging by Osamu’s house, his impatient energy coming off of him in waves.

Atsumu’s sound of protest dies in his throat when he spins back around from hanging it up to watch you slip off your shoes, his pupils expanding from eager to lust-blown the moment his gaze falls on the two wet spots already soaking through the thin material of your sundress.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his lips slotting tenderly against yours as he pushes you up against the wall, one hand coming up to cup your tender breasts.

His tongue dances along the seam of your lips, and you part them, sighing into your husband’s mouth as he deepens the kiss. You card your fingers through his still-damp hair, keening at the feeling of his thumb teasing your peaked nipples through the fabric. The arousal simmering in your gut sparks, pleasure seeping through your nerves with each deft sweep of his hands along your skin as he effortlessly unhooks your bra, tosses it to the ground, and pulls down the straps of your dress.

“Can’t even wait till we get to the bedroom?” You ask teasingly.

“Nope,” he replies, though the sound is muffled from where his mouth is now latched on to one of your engorged, leaking tits. 

Atsumu has never been one for patience. 

You haven’t pumped all day, and the soothing feeling of Atsumu needily lapping at your tender nipples, milk flowing into his mouth, has you whimpering in relief. Knees going weak with a flush of arousal, you start to slide to the floor, and Atsumu follows suit, his warm body slotted between your spread legs as he continues to drink from you. 

The house is quiet save for the wet, sucking sounds of Atsumu’s mouth slurping at your swollen tits, punctuated at intervals by his groans—the vibration of which makes you shiver—and the breathy, keening noises falling from your own lips.

You reach down, carding your fingers through his hair, running them from his messy, blonde strands to the soft, dark brown undercut beneath. He sucks harder, letting his teeth graze a pert nipple in the way he knows makes your toes curl, and you gasp, arching into his touch as you give his hair a rough tug in return. 

Atsumu moans, and you do it again, tipping his head back enough to take in the dazed look in his eyes, milk coating his lips and dripping down his chin. Suddenly, you become very aware of the way your arousal-soaked panties are clinging wetly to your folds, sticky and plastered against your eager, aching cunt. 

A knowing smirk teases its way across his full lips, and Atsumu snakes a hand up the skirt of your dress, running a finger down your slit. Separated from his deft touch by both your stockings and underwear, he teases you by pushing his fingertip firmly against the nylon and cotton where your fluttering entrance is. The material gives just enough, breaching your hole and scraping wetly against the tight walls of your cunt, and you whine, bucking into his touch as you plead for more. 

You can feel another spurt of milk dribbling from one of your tits, and Atsumu dips his head back down to catch it, tongue tracing a broad stroke from your belly to your nipple as he laps it all up. And just when he latches back on to milk you further, you hear a ripping sound as he tears a hole in your stockings, one large enough to slip his hand into. He then uses his thumb to pull your panties aside, swiftly plunging two fingers right into your damp pussy knuckle deep. 

“Atsumu,” you pant out, bucking up into him, the slick squelch of him finger fucking you warring with the sounds of his wet mouth fervently sucking on your breasts. 

He groans your name, drinking deeply from one tit as he massages and squeezes the other, pulling away for a moment to let milk squirt and spray against his lips. The feeling building inside of you burns its way down your throat and into the pit of your abdomen, your tightly coiled composure beginning to unfurl amid a slick, exhilarating thrum of pleasure. 

Feeling the way the muscles in your thighs have clenched, he swipes his thumb over your clit, stroking circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves as he firmly curls his fingers inside of you. The tidal wave of pleasure bursts, clear liquid spraying from your cunt as you come hard. 

Atsumu’s own steady sucking grows sloppy as he moans loudly when he feels you squirt all over him, smearing spit and milk across the swell of your tits. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he pauses in his ministrations for a moment to suck off the creamy results of your orgasm before returning to the streams of milk leaking down your chest. 

“Haaaaaah, oh f-fuck,” he groans as his entire body tenses and then goes entirely limp, arms wrapped loosely around your waist as he presses his forehead against your breasts, breathing hard. 

“Did you come in your pants again?” you ask, already knowing the answer. 

He nods, voice slightly muffled against your skin, “Ya know what you squirting does ta me.”

Playing with his hair, you smile, “Good thing we have all night.”

And Atsumu makes the most of it, both of you stumbling into the bedroom in your post-orgasmic bliss and collapsing against the mattress, slowly taking turns peeling off one another’s clothes until you’re both naked, his cum-soaked boxers left forgotten on the floor.

The thrum of anxiety and frustration from the game still lingers, and you know Atsumu hasn’t had his fill yet.

If this didn’t turn the both of you on so much, you know he’d otherwise latch on for hours on end without stopping once for air, suckling every last drop of milk from your swollen tits till the sun begins peeking over the horizon. And it’s not that you don’t spend hours with him lapping up your milk on nights like this, it’s just also always littered with copious amounts of orgasms, his normal refractory period taking a backseat to whatever milk-fuelled stamina keeps cum pumping from his cock far more times than either of you could ever hope to count. 

An hour later, you’re on your back, legs spread as Atsumu drags his tongue up your slit, lapping up a glob of his cum that’s leaking out of you. He leans in to kiss you, his filthy mouth slotting against yours tenderly, and you can feel as more cum from his last two climaxes drips out of you and onto the sheets below. 

He’s left your tits untouched for a bit, mouth otherwise occupied swallowing down your moans as he fucked you deep and slow. Milk dribbles down your body, and you arch your body up into his where he hovers over you, grabbing one of his hands and dragging it through the wet, sticky mess. 

“Here I thought I was the needy one,” he quips, a boyish grin on his face. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t act like you’re done.”

“Not even close.”

This time, when his hot lips latch onto your tits, there’s nothing slow or gentle about it. He’s greedy in the way he sucks and slurps, palming at your breasts and groping your ass and squeezing your thighs. Need courses through you as you wrap your legs around his waist, both of you moaning in unison as his thick cock sinks into your cunt again. 

The sound of him fucking his cum back inside of you is filthy, and you revel in it, nails digging into his shoulders and the heel of your foot pressing into his lower back as you urge him to go deeper. 

He bites and sucks at the sensitive skin of your breasts, the mattress creaking loudly beneath you as he begins to roughly fuck you into it, cum leaking onto his balls and dripping down your ass. Your chest heaves as pleasure snaps through you like a whip, drunk on the combined feeling of the downright feral way Atsumu’s drinking your milk and the relentless way he’s pounding into your tight cunt. 

When you come this time, it’s with a shout, vision going white as your pussy clenches down on his shaft. His orgasm follows in kind, Atsumu sucking on your nipple like his life depends on it while his cock pulses within the grip of your slick walls, once again filling you to the brim with another load of hot cum. 

Atsumu collapses on top of you afterward, both of your bodies limp with exhaustion, though not enough to stop him from keeping his mouth latched to one of your tits, idly sucking away. 

—

You don’t realize that the two of you fell asleep, not until you rouse to the soft morning light coming through your bedroom window and a round of knocks coming from your front door. When you go to shift, you find Atsumu’s head pillowed on chest, still unconsciously sucking on one of your nipples, even in his sleep. You roll your eyes fondly, stroking his hair. 

Atsumu hums, stirring slightly. Softened cock still lodged inside of you, he rolls his hips, and you moan softly at the combined pleasure from the feeling of him sliding through the copious amounts of cum he filled you with and the hypersensitivity of being touched when you’re still half asleep. His eyes open slightly, and he gives you a tired little smile as he groans, mouth falling open as he rocks into you again. 

His cock is quick to react, the feeling of his thick shaft hardening inside of the tight squeeze of your cunt leaving you breathless. 

There’s another series of knocks at the front door, followed by the buzz of a text message on his phone. 

Atsumu presses a kiss to your nipple before dragging his lips up the column of your throat, mouth capturing yours. 

Another knock. 

He pulls out and thrusts back into you deeply, languidly, cock dragging against your cum-soaked walls with ease. 

Your phone buzzes. 

Lazy, gentle kisses follow. 

His phone begins to ring. 

Atsumu reaches out in the direction of the nightstand, shoving his phone to the floor and ignoring everything but the way you keen and writhe beneath him as he fucks you through one more wet, tired, blissful orgasm. 

—

Osamu, fully dressed in his Onigiri Miya uniform, looks like he’s weighing the pros and cons of fratricide when Atsumu finally opens the front door in a robe, his hands and a brush no match for what an all-night marathon of sex and sucking on your tits has done to his hair. 

“I have a staff meetin’ in an hour, ya horny bastard,” he growls when he walks in, the malice a direct contrast to the way he then proceeds to coo over his sleeping niece when he sets her down in her carrier. 

“We slept in,” Atsumu says casually, though his air of nonchalance is thrown off by the way Osamu unceremoniously shoves the diaper bag into his arms. 

“Yer a shit liar.”

Exiting the  bathroom looking far more put together than your husband, you place a finger to your lips as you gesture to your child, who’s somehow conked out despite their raised voices. 

Osamu offers you an apologetic look, though he shoots his brother another glare when you make your way into the kitchen. 

“Thanks again, Samu. Want something for breakfast before you head to work?” you ask him. 

Atsumu pours himself a glass of orange juice in the meantime. 

“Toast would be great.”

“Thought ya were in a rush,” Atsumu snarks before rolling his eyes and taking a large sip from his cup. 

Rifling through the fridge, you brandish a hand in the direction of the myriad of beverages on the shelf. “Drink?”

“Milk’s fine.”

Atsumu chokes. 

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu smut #dee writes

[teamatsumu]

wrong twin? (miya atsumu x reader)

summary: you have a massive crush on miya osamu. so the plan is to get closer to him through his twin brother. it’s genius. it’s bound to work. right?

word count: 3008

warnings: fem!reader, fluff, slight angst, swearing, maybe a dash of humor, atsumu being atsumu, him and reader bicker a lot

tags: @keiva1000

When you handed in your application to join the Inarizaki High School volleyball club as manager, you had a very clear agenda in mind, but nobody needed to know about that. You had a good knowledge of volleyball, you had good organizational skills, and you were responsible. They accepted your application in a heartbeat, and were none the wiser of your true intentions behind joining the team.

It was only when you cornered their blond setter after practice one day that you actually said the words out loud.

“Ya want me to do what?” He raised an eyebrow, shoving his volleyball shoes into his backpack.

“Help me get close to him!” You whispered in a conspiratorial tone, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to you two. Your eyes lingered on Osamu where he was helping Gin clean up. “You’re his twin brother. You’re closest to him. If we hang out more, that would inevitably mean I get to hang out with Osamu more too. And we can become friends. Eventually, I will get him to fall in love with me.”

Atsumu stared at you with a very distinct ‘what the fuck’ look, but you stared right back, determined.

“Yer insane.” He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and making his way to the gym door. You followed behind.

“Please, Atsumu!” You begged, following him out of the gym and down the path leading out of the school.

“No!” He responded, not looking back at you. “Ya wanna get close to him, just go talk to him! Why ya gotta drag me into yer crazy schemes?!”

“I can’t just go talk to him, it would be creepy! I need a way into his circle.”

Atsumu gave you another look. “Oh yeah, what yer saying right now isn’t creepy at all.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.

You huffed, scowling at the back of his blond head. Your eyes caught the lights of the corner convenience store, and you felt an idea forming.

“I will buy you an after-practice snack every day for a year.”

Atsumu stopped short, looking back at you. “Yer bein’ serious?”

You gestured to the store up ahead. “We could start right now. I have money on me.”

His answering grin meant you had a deal.

……………………

When you joined the twins for lunch the next day at Atsumu’s desk, Osamu raised an eyebrow.

“It was my idea.” Atsumu explained. “She’s cool so I said we should hang out more.”

Osamu seemed to buy it, shrugging and giving you a welcoming little smile. You felt yourself flush, giddy as you pulled up a chair and sat down next to Atsumu, opposite to his brother.

“Oh sweet, are those pancake rolls?” Osamu asked when you opened your bento. You nodded eagerly.

“I made them myself!” You replied, pushing the box closer to him. “Wanna try?”

You knew Osamu liked food (okay, maybe you had stalked him a little), and even though you sucked at cooking, you had meticulously made your lunch today for this very reason. You couldn’t help your grin when Osamu bit into a roll and moaned at the taste, saying it was delicious. You could feel how hot your face was, even the tips of your ears felt warm. Atsumu rolled his eyes in your periphery but you paid him no mind, striking up a conversation with his brother instead.

“Yer like a different person around him.” Atsumu commented later that evening, when you were sitting on the curb outside the convenience store and he was chowing down on a pork bun you had bought him. The rest of the team had gone ahead, most of them too tired to stop for a snack and just wanting to get to bed as soon as possible.

You sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. He makes me feel things.”

Atsumu chewed for a little bit, watching you stare at the moth circling the streetlight.

“Gross.”

You slapped him hard on the bicep at that, making him let out an ‘ow!’. He pouted at you as he rubbed his arm, while all you did was roll your eyes in return.

……………………………

Lunch became a normal thing with the twins after that. You would wake up at 5am, cook something new that you thought Osamu might appreciate, and you would watch him devour it, praising you for how good it was. One time, Atsumu had gotten curious and tried to reach for a piece of onigiri, making you smack his hand away. He yelped and clutched it.

“What was that for?!”

“You already get a snack out of me every day, Miya. Keep your paws off my lunch.”

Osamu had snickered at that, and your heart had skipped at the sound, effectively forgetting Atsumu even existed as your focus shifted entirely to his brother. Atsumu grumbled but complied, saying something about ‘’s probably not that good anyway’. You paid him no mind.

You got to know Osamu a lot better during your little lunch sessions. He didn’t talk as much as his brother, but he was perceptive, and a great listener. He seemed to balance out Atsumu perfectly, and you could see how close they actually were. You would often giggle at their banter, witnessing the many foul names they would call each other, but knowing they didn’t mean it at the end of the day.

You often went to their house, under the guise of tutoring Atsumu. At first, Atsumu had told you no one would buy it, but you were adamant to try. And you were right. When you told Osamu why you were there, he snorted in response.

“Figures. This dumb fuck needs all the help he can get.”

Atsumu had yelled and tried to swat at his brother, but Osamu expertly dodged him. You had laughed at their antics.

Your study sessions were often spent with you stealing glances at Osamu from the dining table where you and Atsumu were located. He wouldn’t stick around much, preferring to camp out in their shared bedroom, but you still appreciated every glimpse that you got of him when he wandered down to the kitchen for a snack. Atsumu would nudge you with his knee under the table.

“Be a little less obvious, will ya?”

You stuck a middle finger in his face in response. He grabbed your hand and twisted it a bit, just enough to make you yelp and try to push him away.

“Tsumu, you jerk! Let go!”

“Say sorry!”

“Over my dead body!”

Osamu had to break you two apart sometimes, while you glared at each other from either side of him.

At practice, you would stay late when they needed help perfecting their quick attack, throwing balls so Atsumu could set them for Osamu. On the way back, you would buy Atsumu his daily snack and offer to pay for Osamu’s as well, which he always refused.

“Unlike this tool, I’m not shameless enough to let someone else pay fer me.”

“Hey!”

With every passing day, you felt that you were getting closer and closer to Osamu. Where you had barely exchanged words before, you two could hold long conversations now, and you especially loved when you ganged up to shit on Atsumu, who would be overdramatic as hell about the insults and act like he just got shot. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed so much.

Then, Osamu got a girlfriend.

You didn’t learn about it until you saw a girl at the gym on one random Wednesday. You had raised an eyebrow at her, watching as she looked around for something.

“Can I help you?”

She shook her head. “I’m just looking for Osamu. He left some stuff at my place last night.”

Your brain short circuited. Her place? Last night?

Then he ran over to her. Greeted her and thanked her for bringing his stuff. And then he kissed her.

You were mentally tuned out of practice for the rest of the evening.

When Atsumu walked up to you after practice so you could make your usual trip to the convenience store, you had just silently followed him. You had bought him some yakusoba bread, and you sat on the curb, waiting to walk home after he finished eating.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You finally asked.

Atsumu sighed in return. “Didn’t want ya to get hurt.”

You turned to look at him. His attention was on the bread. “Did you expect me to never find out?”

He shook his head. “I was hopin’ to tell ya after practice. Just couldn’t think of the words.”

For some reason, you felt anger boil up inside you. You stood up abruptly. Atsumu paused his chewing to look up at you.

“I don’t need you to coddle me, Tsumu.” You grit out. “That was not the deal.”

Atsumu didn’t seem fazed by your tone. “Sit down.”

You glared at him. “I’m going home.”

When you turned to leave, you were stopped by his hand reaching up to clutch at the hem of your jacket, pulling you back.

“I know yer hurtin’. Just sit.”

You don’t know why that did it. Tears that had been building up all during practice were set free, rolling down your cheeks. Silently, you sat back down next to him. He didn’t talk as you cried, only shuffling closer until his side was pressed to yours. An unexpected comfort came to you with the contact. You leaned on him, resting your head on your knees, shoulders shaking.

When you had calmed down enough, you wiped your face with your sleeves, sitting up straighter. Atsumu extended his bread to you. You raised an eyebrow.

“When have you ever shared with me before?”

He rolled his eyes. “Ya want it or not?”

The bread seemed to melt in your mouth. Food did make you feel a bit better, but your mind was still on Osamu.

“‘M sorry yer scheme didn’t work out.”

You laughed a bit, taking another bite. “When you call it a scheme, it makes me think it was bound to fail from the start.”

Atsumu shook his head. “Nah. Ya made an effort. I respect that.” He stretched his legs in front of him, leaning back on his hands. “Yer a real catch. Yer smart and yer pretty. Samu’s blind ta not see that.”

You giggled, nudging Atsumu a bit. “Careful, Tsum-tsum. I might think you were falling for me.”

If your emotions weren’t so over the place, and if you hadn’t just tired yourself out from crying so much, you would’ve noticed how the older Miya’s eyes softened.

…………………………

Getting over Osamu wasn’t easy. Especially after having chased after him for so many months. It didn’t help that his little girlfriend seemed to come around more often, sometimes joining the team during practice. At times like those, you tried to stay as far away from her and Osamu, and that often meant you would find comfort in Atsumu, the only person who knew about your crush.

“What does he see in her anyway?” You voiced out loud, watching her laugh at something Osamu had said. You were sitting on a bench outside the gym with Atsumu, watching the two interact on the other side of the path. The rest of the team still weren’t done with their run. As usual, the twins were the first ones to reach the school.

Atsumu ran a towel over his neck, setting his water bottle down next to him. “Ya need ta get over him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never loved anything except volleyball.”

“Damn right. Has volleyball ever betrayed me? No. So suck it.”

You dug your elbow into his side, making him yelp and grab your head, pushing you away. His hand was massive and covered over half your face, and you struggled to get him off, digging your nails into his forearm.

“Tsumu, you asshole-”

You didn’t even notice when Osamu stared at the two of you, too absorbed in your little squabble.

So yeah, getting over Osamu wasn’t easy, but having Atsumu around helped a ton. Everytime he would see your eyes linger on Osamu too long, he would make some sort of comment, or change the subject, just trying to get your attention anywhere else. Too many times, he would physically grab you and turn you away from his twin, saying something along the lines of how you should be looking at the ‘better twin’ instead.

“Sorry but which one of you decided to dye their hair the color of piss?”

“It’s blond!”

“You ever heard of toner, dumbass?”

And you would grab his hair, messing it up and tugging at it a bit, giggling when he whined about you ruining his ‘hairstyle’. You also knew that Atsumu would kill anyone else who dared touch his hair, and the fact made your heart skip a bit. It also made you think, and once the gears in your head started turning, there was no going back.

Now that the fog of your infatuation with Osamu was lifting a bit, you seemed to notice his twin more. You would watch how Atsumu seemed to almost shield you from anything that reminded you of Osamu. How he had made it a habit after that one evening to always share half his snack with you, no matter how small it was. He would often say out of pocket shit, but rather than annoying you, it seemed to endear you more. It was like these little quips were a part of his charm, and you would giggle along instead of telling him to shut up.

He was awfully touchy too. You suppose he had always been, and you had just never thought about it. But now it seemed like none of his moves went unnoticed by you. He had a habit of gripping your head with one hand and turning your face to his when you weren’t paying attention. It used to annoy the crap out of you but now it made you pause and blink, meeting his caramel colored eyes. He would nudge you and poke you, he would drape an arm over your shoulders and whine about how tired he was. And your cheeks would warm up every time. You were forced to admit it.

You had a thing for Atsumu.

Deep down, you cursed at your luck, almost laughing in incredulity. What a joke this was, having a crush on both twins. But you knew that this was different. You knew this wasn’t just a silly crush.

Atsumu was more. He had always been more.

“Tsumu?”

He hummed in response, indicating he was listening, even if he was busy stuffing a chocolate bar into his mouth. You two were in your usual place, sitting on the curb outside the convenience store, lit up only by the light of the store behind you and the lamp post across the street. You watched his profile, the way his jaw moved when he chewed, his eyes trained before him, his undercut, and his dyed hair falling over his forehead slightly.

He was so painfully attractive. And you had never noticed.

He looked at you finally when you didn’t speak, raising an eyebrow.

“Everythin’ okay?”

You nodded hastily, turning away from him. You heard him pause, wrapping up what was left of his chocolate and placing it next to him before shuffling closer to you.

“Yer lyin’. What is it?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You can read me so well.”

He shrugged in response, draping his arm over your shoulder. You closed your eyes, mentally accepting how the action now made you feel.

“I did spend the whole year hearin’ ya whine about yer feelings, so yeah. I can read ya pretty well.”

You sighed, turning your head to look at him. At this proximity, you could see the brown swirling in his eyes, and it reminded you of milk chocolate. You were nearly nose to nose with him, and you weren’t nervous at all. With Osamu, you would always be on edge. Your insides would squirm, your heart would race, and oftentimes, you would stumble over your words.

With Atsumu, you felt every muscle in your body relax when he touched you. Despite his chaotic personality and his crude language, Atsumu was so tuned in when it came to you. When you needed it, he was as calm as they come. There was such unprecedented comfort in his presence. When you were around him, it felt like everything would be okay.

“I love you.”

It came out of you involuntarily at that moment. But you weren’t scared to tell him. You should have been, but one look at him this close and all your fears were melting away. When Atsumu gave you a little smile, you couldn’t help but return it.

“I love ya too, sweets.”

His kiss was expected. Soft, slow, perfect. His lips were plush and warm, and he tasted like the chocolate he had just been eating. His arm around your shoulder tightened, and his other hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your head enough to deepen the kiss. You felt your head buzz, your hands fisting at the front of his shirt and trying to pull him closer, though it was impossible.

You whined in protest when he ended the kiss, making him chuckle slightly. The sound made your lips twitch up a bit, and you ran your eyes all over his face. He hummed in approval.

“There it is.”

You blinked. “What?”

He traced your cheekbone with his thumb. “Ya know how long I’ve wanted ya to look at me like that and not Samu?”

Right. Samu. You had forgotten about him completely the moment Atsumu’s lips touched yours. The thought made you giggle and pull at his jacket collar to tug him close, until his lips were meeting yours again.

#miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu fluff #miya atsumu angst #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu fanfic #miya atsumu imagine #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #friends to lovers #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines

[osakunt]

MINORS DNI (TIMESKIP)

The movement of your hips increase as time goes by,the feeling coming forth little by little.

His tongue lapping your slits, lips sucking your erect bud, both index and thumb rolling your nip between them. You, a moaning mess as you come closer and closer to your climax.

He smirks knowing he can make you feel this type of way. You start feeling the pleasure start to grow in your lower abdomen; bucking your hips up so his mouth can be much closer to you.

You arch your back ready to welcome the pleasure of satisfaction. But it never comes.

He moves back leaving you and your heat wanting more.

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[kairismess]

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

well hello, pretty stranger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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