#aran drabble

[katescorner]

suna "we're just friends" rintaro who's actually in a secret relationship with you, but feels the need to keep it a secret until it gets more serious because he's scared. except the miya twins have caught on, and they have a running bet going for who's going to spill first. atsumu thinks suna would rather keel over than admit to them he's dating someone, but osamu is smugly convinced that his friend's resolve is weaker than yours. so they decide to put it to the test.

it starts off . . . weird. osamu is putting moves on you, and you have no idea what to make of it. he's asking to walk you home and tells you that you should come to watch them practice. he even shoves atsumu out of their usual seat in the cafeteria to invite you to sit next to him. he seems really interested in you, and you don't want to be mean, but you also can't lead him on.

you're too focused on osamu's strange behavior to notice that he only acts this way when suna is around. so you don't see the way your boyfriend clenches and unclenches his fists when he overhears osamu wanting to walk you home after school. you don't hear the huff he lets out or how he slams his locker door a little harder when osamu invites you to watch them play with a well practiced smile. and you certainly don't realize the sheet white paleness that grows on his face when osamu shoves atsumu off the bench to make space for you.

suna doesn't blame you. his friends are idiots and getting on his last nerve. but everything comes to a screeching halt when osamu puts his arm around your shoulder, and suna absolutely loses it.

"we're dating!" it's the closest he gets to yelling without actually, but it's loud.

"damn it!" atsumu shouts, but suna doesn't hear. he practically has tunnel vision, zeroed in on where osamu connects to you.

"we're dating," he repeats through gritted teeth. "so get your grimy slimy spiker little hands—" he stalks over to osamu with surprising speed to knock his hand off of you, "off of my—"

"rintaro," you scold softly, and the twins try not to react when their usually unbothered and finicky middle blocker . . . listens?

"he—you're my—i'm—" he erupts in an aggravated groan and quickly decides to pull you to his side, away from osamu.

suna starts mumbling things under his breath they can't hear. his words are clearly reserved only for you, but the twins watch quietly anyway as you smooth away the worry lines growing on his face from his furrowed eyebrows and press a soft kiss to his cheek that has leaves them dusted in the slightest pink. he's whipped, and suddenly the only thing the miyas could think of was—how the hell did they not notice sooner?

yes i'm a soft lovesick sunarin truther. that man is a simp and i take no arguments

[slut4megantheestallion]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅Threesome w/ ElliVi

Pairings: Ellivi x fem! reader

Warnings ⚠️: Mdni, Smut, Dom!ellie, Dom!vi, threesome, polyamorous relationship, fingering, strap-on sex, overstimulation, dumbification, sex toys, pussy slaps, slight degradation, heavy praise, aftercare, soft!Ellivi dynamic at the end.

The room is dimly lit, the low hum of the city outside barely reaching the thick walls of your apartment. You're sprawled across the mattress, legs trembling as Ellie grips your thighs, her calloused fingers digging into your skin.

"Look at you," she muses, her voice thick with amusement, running her two fingers teasingly through your soaked folds. "Already so needy, huh?"

Before you can even stammer out a response, Vi chuckles from behind, her rough hands ghosting up your torso before grabbing your chin, tilting your head back so her lips hover just near your ear.

"She loves being our dumb little thing," Vi murmurs, voice smooth yet edged with something dangerous, something possessive. "Don't you, babe?"

A whimper is all you manage before Ellie delivers a sharp slap to your clit, making you jolt. Your body betrays you, pushing further into her touch even as the sting lingers.

"Use your words," Ellie demands, her other hand tightening around your thigh. Vi presses a soft kiss to your jaw before adding, "Or we'll have to make you beg for it."

Your head spins, caught between them, bodies warm, eyes dark with hunger.

Ellie’s fingers stay at your entrance, teasing, barely dipping inside before pulling back out, making you squirm. "She's already making such a mess," Ellie mutters, dragging her fingers through your slick before pressing them against your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles.

Vi smirks, still holding your jaw. "She's always does. She's our good little thing, aren't you?" Her voice is deep, taunting, sending a shiver down your spine.

You nod quickly, panting, but Ellie’s grip on your thigh tightens. "Nah, none of that nodding shit," she corrects, pressing a little harder against your clit before giving it another sharp slap, making you whimper. "Tell us."

Your voice comes out shaky. "Y-Yeah, I'm your good girl."

Vi grins, satisfied, and kisses down your jaw, down your neck, nipping at your skin. "That's right."

Ellie pulls away, reaching to the side for something, and when you hear the familiar sound of a cap being popped open, your body tenses in anticipation. "Relax, babe," Ellie coos, coating her fingers in lube before bringing them back to your dripping cunt. "We're gonna take care of you."

Vi shifts beside you, her strong arms wrapping around your waist as she leans back against the headboard, pulling you onto her lap. The feeling of her bare skin against yours makes you whine, especially when her toned thighs press against yours, spreading you open. "Hold her still, Vi." Ellie instructs, and Vi doesn't hesitate, keeping a firm grip on your waist,leaving you completely exposed.

Ellie wastes no time, pushing two fingers inside with ease, the stretch making you gasp. She curls them immediately, brushing against that perfect spot that has your body arching against Vi. She chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Yeah? Feels good, huh?"

You can't even respond before Ellie adds a third finger, thrusting them at a steady rhythm, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room. Your hips buck, but Vi holds you down easily, strong arms keeping you in place. "So desperate," Ellie teases, pressing her thumb against your clit, applying just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. "What do you think, Vi? Think she can take more?"

Vi hums, dragging her fingers down your stomach before spreading your folds apart even more, watching Ellie’s fingers disappear into you. "She can take more," Vi confirms, her voice thick with lust. "But she's already getting dumb on just your fingers, babe."

Ellie grins, slowing her movements, pulling her fingers out almost entirely before slamming them back in, making you cry out. "Aw, are we already fucking you stupid?"

Your head falls back against Vi's shoulder, your body trembling, only able to whimper. Vi tuts, her fingers coming up to your chin, tilting your face towards hers. "C"mon, sweetheart," she murmurs, pressing a slow, teasing kiss against your lips. "You can give us a real answer, can't you?"

Ellie picks up the pace, fucking you open with her fingers, the wetness dripping down onto Vi's thigh. "Answer her, baby," Ellie taunts, adding another sharp slap to your clit that sends a jolt through your entire body.

Your voice is weak, barely coherent. "Y-Yeah- feels so good"

Vi chuckles, pressing another kiss to your lips before muttering, "That's our girl."

Ellie fingers suddenly disappear, leaving you empty, making you whine. "Don't pout." Ellie coos mockingly, reaching for something else. When you hear the distinct sound of a vibrator clicking on, your breath catches.

Vi grins against your skin, her hands keeping you spread open. "Oh, you're in for it now, baby."

Ellie presses the toy against your already overstimulated clit, and the moment the vibrations hit, your whole body jerks. "Oh, look at her," Ellie taunts, rubbing slow, deliberate circles. "She's shaking."

Vi tightens her grip as you struggle against the overwhelming sensation, pressing her lips to your ear. "Be good for us, sweetheart. We're just getting started."

Your legs are trembling, body struggling to keep up with the relentless pleasure Ellie and Vi are giving you. The vibrator stays pressed against your clit, Ellie watching you with a smirk as your hips twitch involuntarily.

"Poor thing," Ellie taunts, eyes flicking up to your dazed expression. "Already so fucked out."

Vi hums in agreement, kissing the side of your neck. "And we haven't even gotten to the best part yet."

The best part.

Your whimper is swallowed by Vi's mouth as she pulls you into a deep kiss, her teeth nipping at your lower lip before soothing it with her tongue. Ellie, on the other hand, is focused - watching every little movement, every shudder, every sharp inhale as she turns up the intensity of the toy.

Your body jolts. "Ellie! I-"

"Shhh, baby," Ellie coos mockingly. "You can take it."

Vi grips your chin, forcing you to look at her. "Yeah, you can, sweetheart. You're our good little thing, remember?"

Ellie suddenly pulls the vibrator away, leaving you gasping at the loss, and moves back, reaching for something. You barely have a second to register what it is before you hear the low hum of another toy - a strap, the silicone glistening as Ellie coats it in lube.

"Think she's ready, Vi?" Ellie asks, stroking the toy slowly.

Vi smirks, shifting beneath you. "I think we should stretch her a little more. Make sure she can really take both of us."

Your breath hitches. Both?

Ellie’s grin turns wicked as she guides the tip of the strap against your soaked entrance, teasing, just barely pressing in before pulling back. "Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?"

Your hips try to chase the toy, desperate, but Vi tightens her grip. "Ah, ah," she scolds, pressing a hand to your stomach to keep you still. "Be patient, sweetheart."

Ellie pushes in slowly, watching with dark eyes as the strap disappears inch by inch. The stretch makes you moan, head falling back against Vi's shoulder as your body adjusts.

Vi presses soft kisses to your jaw. "That's it, baby. Take it."

Ellie bottoms out with a low groan, her hands gripping your hips. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so good." She pulls out almost entirely before snapping her hips forward, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has your breath hitching.

Vi chuckles, her hand trailing down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. "Look at you," she murmurs. "Taking Ellie so well."

The combination of Ellie deep thrusts and Vi's teasing fingers has your mind spiraling, pleasure overwhelming every inch of your body. You can barely form a coherent thought, words slurred as you whimper and moan for them.

Ellie leans in, her voice husky. "Bet you can't wait for Vi to stuff you full too, huh?"

Vi presses a kiss behind your ear. "We're gonna ruin you, sweetheart."

And the night is so far from over.

Ellie doesn't let up, her hips snapping forward with precise, deliberate thrusts, each one forcing a choked moan from your lips. The stretch is intoxicating, the way her strap drags against your walls, making your whole body shudder. Vi's fingers don't stop either- two of them rubbing slow, teasing circles over your swollen clit, keeping you right on the edge but not letting you fall over.

"Shit," Ellie groans, watching the way your body reacts to her. "She's so fuckin' tight."

Vi hums, pressing her lips to the side of your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin. "She always is," she murmurs, her free hand coming up to cup your throat - not squeezing, just holding you there, making you feel completely at their mercy. "Our dumb little baby can barely handle it, huh?"

Your head feels light, every nerve ending burning with pleasure. "I- Ellie- Vi, Please-"

Ellie grins, snapping her hips harder. "Please what, baby?"

Vi chuckles, her grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. "Gotta be specific, sweetheart. What do you need?"

The words are struck in your throat, too lost in the overwhelming sensation of Ellie pounding into you and Vi's fingers torturing your clit. Your body is trembling, overstimulated, but desperate for more, your mind going blank as the pleasure builds higher and higher.

Ellie slows her thrusts, pulling out almost completely before dragging the tip of the strap through your soaked folds, teasing. "C'mon," she coaxes, pressing the tip back in just enough to make you whimper. "Use your words."

Vi's grip on your throat tightens again, just for a moment, before she releases you entirely. "She's getting too dumb to think straight," she teases, voice thick with amusement. "Already gone, huh, baby?"

Ellie smirks. "Guess we'll just have to keep fucking her stupid, then."

Before you can process her words, Ellie slams back in, harder this time, setting a ruthless pace that has you crying out, back arching against Vi. She groans, her hands gripping your waist to hold you still. "Fuck, watching her get wrecked like this is so fucking hot."

Ellie’s breath is heavy, her hands digging into your hips. "You ready for her?" She asks, voice strained with hunger.

Vi smirks against your shoulder. "Oh, I've been ready."

Your body is still shaking when Ellie pulls out completely, leaving you feeling empty, your cunt clenching around nothing. Before you can whine in protest, Vi is shifting beneath you, guiding you to straddle her lap.

Her strap presses against your entrance, slick with arousal, and she doesn't waste any time, hands gripping your hips as she pushes in, stretching you open all over again. Your head falls forward against her shoulder, a broken moan leaving your lips as she bottoms out, filling you up completely.

"Fuck," Vi growls, her grip tightening. "She's gripping me so tight."

Ellie chuckles, moving behind you, her hands running up your sides before gripping your ass, spreading you open. "She's always a greedy little thing."

Before you can even catch your breath, you feel the blunt tip of Ellie’s strap pressing against your entrance again, right alongside Vi's, making your entire body jolt.

"Wait -" Your voice is barely above a gasp, brain short-circuiting at the realization of what they're about to do.

Vi tilts your head up, forcing you to look at her. "You can take it, sweetheart," she murmurs, lips brushing against yours. "You're our good girl, aren't you?"

Ellie presses in slowly, the stretch almost unbearable, your walls struggling to accommodate both of them at once. The burning sensation makes you whimper, but the sheer fullness has your head spinning, pleasure, and pain blurring together.

Vi kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans. "That's it," she breathes, her fingers gripping your hips tighter. "Taking both of us so well."

Ellie groans from behind you, her hands kneading your ass. "Fuck, she's squeezing us so tight."

Once they're both fully inside, they stay still for a moment, letting you adjust. Your body is trembling, every muscle taut, but the overwhelming fullness has you feeling drunk on pleasure, mind hazy, and incoherent.

Ellie moves first, pulling out slightly before snapping her hips forward, forcing a cry from your lips. Vi follows her lead, thrusting up into you, matching Ellie’s movements perfectly, their rhythm synchronized to wreck you completely.

The sensation is overwhelming, your body caught between them, every nerve ending burning with pleasure. Each thrust has you seeing stars, their hands gripping you tightly, keeping you in place as they fuck you mercilessly.

Ellie leans in, her breath hot against your ear. “You’re so fucking ruined, baby.”

Vi chuckles darkly, dragging her nails down your back. “And we’re not done yet.”

They keep going, thrusting in perfect unison, stretching you open, fucking you so deep that your mind goes completely blank. You’re barely aware of your own voice, barely aware of anything except them—except the way they own you, body and mind, claiming you as theirs.

The only thing you know for sure is that you’re not coming out of this night the same.

Your body feels weightless, mind completely blank as the overwhelming pleasure finally peaks. The coil inside you snaps violently, waves of ecstasy crashing over you in relentless succession. Your body tenses, then completely melts between them, a wrecked moan slipping past your lips as your vision blurs.

Ellie and Vi don’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm, dragging out every last pulse of pleasure until your whole body is trembling uncontrollably. Your legs shake, your arms go weak, and all you can do is let them hold you up as they push you past your limit.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Ellie groans from behind you, her hands gripping your waist tightly, anchoring you to her. “So fuckin’ pretty when she cums.”

Vi hums, watching the way your body reacts, how you’re still spasming around them, completely spent. “She’s done, babe,” Vi murmurs, pressing a slow kiss to your shoulder. “We wrecked her.”

Ellie sighs, slowing her thrusts before finally pulling out, leaving you feeling empty but relieved. Vi follows, carefully easing you off her strap before laying you down on the bed. The moment your back hits the mattress, your entire body goes limp, completely spent.

A warm hand brushes over your cheek, grounding you. "Breathe, baby," Ellie murmurs, her voice softer now, all teasing gone. “You good?”

You try to nod, but you’re too exhausted to move. A small, satisfied smile tugs at Vi’s lips. “She’s out of it.”

Ellie chuckles, flopping onto the bed beside you while Vi shifts to the other side, both of them surrounding you. “She took us so well,” Ellie praises, running her fingers through your damp hair. “So fuckin’ good for us.”

Vi hums in agreement, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You did so good, sweetheart.”

The shift in their dynamic is immediate—where before they were teasing and relentless, now they’re soft, careful, taking care of you in every way possible.

Vi moves first, slipping off the bed to grab a warm, damp cloth. Ellie stays beside you, her calloused fingers tracing soft patterns against your bare skin, grounding you. “You with us, babe?” Ellie murmurs, voice low and soothing.

You manage a small hum of acknowledgment, eyes fluttering open to meet hers. The corner of her lips twitch in a lazy smile. “There she is.”

Vi returns, gently wiping between your legs, cleaning you up with slow, delicate movements. “Tell us if anything feels too sensitive,” she murmurs.

The touch is warm and comforting, and you sigh softly, sinking into the bed. Ellie leans over, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “You need water, babe?”

You nod faintly, throat dry, and Vi immediately grabs a water bottle from the nightstand, helping you sit up just enough to take a few small sips. Ellie watches with a soft smirk. “See? We take care of our girl.”

Vi hums, setting the water aside once you’re finished. “That’s ‘cause she’s ours.”

A warmth spreads through your chest at their words, at the way they’re both looking at you—soft, protective, completely wrapped around your finger.

Ellie shifts, tucking herself against your side, draping an arm over your waist while Vi slides in on your other side, pulling the blankets up to cover the three of you. You’re warm, safe, completely surrounded by them.

“You feel okay?” Vi asks, voice quieter now, brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

You nod again, melting into the comfort of their embrace. “Yeah,” you murmur, voice slightly hoarse. “I feel… really good.”

Ellie chuckles, pressing a slow kiss to your bare shoulder. “Good. ‘Cause we’re not lettin’ you go anywhere.”

Vi smirks, nuzzling against the crook of your neck. “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

Their arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer, their warmth seeping into your skin. Your body is sore, completely spent, but the comfort of being between them makes every ache worth it.

Ellie presses one last kiss against your skin, her voice dipping into something fond. “Get some sleep, baby.”

Vi hums in agreement, her voice the last thing you hear before exhaustion fully takes over.

“We got you.”

[haikyu-mp4]

cw: period and mentioned pregnancy

your husband thinks he knows you pretty well by now; the only grey zone was the first day of your period. somehow, you always managed to surprise him with something then.

now, as you’re lying in bed, curled up under the duvet and groaning as the pain rolls through you in unpleasant waves, your husband is tiptoeing around you and making sure you have everything you need.

until…

“you did this to me,” you mumbled, catching him off guard in the way you glared at him.

his jaw dropped, and he considered the pros and cons of just agreeing and taking the blame if that made you feel better. “I see…”

“if you got me pregnant, I wouldn’t have my period.”

his lips were now entirely pursed, a small squeak sounding from his throat. he sure would love to get you pregnant, but you both agreed to wait another year.

instead of speaking his thoughts, he came over to your side and stroked your arm comfortingly, urging you to relax so you could sleep it off. “I know, honey. how about I order your favourite pizza for dinner later?”

it might sound like he was talking to a child, but it worked as you scrunched your face up in pain and nodded at the suggestion. “you’re so good to me.”

he lifted his palms and shoulders, thinking to himself hell yes I am. “it’s easy when it’s you, my love.”

it is not. he loves you, but you're going to cause him a heart attack.

asahi, DAICHI, kita, ARAN, osamu, hirugami, ushijima, AKAASHI, kageyama, KAI, takeda, anyone you want<3

[noorpersona]

Confessions: Atsumu

You’ve known the Miya twins for as long as you can remember. They were the loudest boys on the playground, all scuffed knees and sunburned cheeks, their laughter carrying across the schoolyard like a war cry. Atsumu, the loudmouth with a cocky grin that drove teachers insane, and Osamu, the quieter one who always seemed two seconds away from dragging his brother out of trouble. You were caught in the middle—sometimes willingly, sometimes not—but you never complained. Being with them was easy. Natural. Like breathing.

“Yer too slow!” Atsumu had whined once, standing at the edge of the sandbox with his hands on his hips while you struggled to keep up. “Then go ahead without me!” you’d huffed, kicking sand in his direction, cheeks flushed and breathless.

But he never did.

No matter how many times you fell behind, no matter how many times Osamu rolled his eyes and threatened to leave you both behind, Atsumu always waited. And somehow, that pattern never changed.

Years passed. Middle school turned into high school. The three of you didn’t hang out as much anymore—between club activities, exams, and life pulling you in different directions, it was harder to find the time. But you still showed up. For them.

You never missed a game, sitting in the stands with Osamu’s mom and cheering as loud as the rest of the Inarizaki fans. You watched Atsumu serve with impossible precision, eyes narrowing with focus before the ball left his hand. You watched Osamu spike with terrifying accuracy, his smirk barely contained afterward. You were proud of them both, proud to see them rise, proud to be part of the crowd that supported them.

“Yer comin’ to the next match, right?” Atsumu asked one afternoon after practice, leaning against the fence with his bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was damp, a few stray strands sticking to his forehead, and his uniform was loose, hanging casually over his broad frame. The sun was dipping lower, casting warm orange hues across the field where a few stragglers still kicked a soccer ball around. You glanced up from your phone, pretending to be nonchalant. “I always do, don’t I?” His grin stretched wide—cocky and confident, just like always—but there was something in his eyes. Something… uncertain. Hidden beneath the bravado. “Just checkin’.” He kicked at the dirt, scuffing his sneaker against the pavement. “Ya don’t gotta, y’know. Betcha got better things to do than watch us all the time.”

Osamu was the one who noticed it first, the subtle shift in Atsumu’s behavior. It was after another win, and the three of you had gone out to grab a bite. Atsumu was unusually quiet, barely picking at his food while you and Osamu bickered over the best dipping sauce for karaage. “Oi,” Osamu had muttered under his breath when you went to the counter to grab more napkins. “What’s with ya?”

“Nothin’,” Atsumu had mumbled, poking at his plate, but Osamu’s eyes had narrowed. “Ya never shut up. Now yer quiet? Somethin’s up.”

“Nothin’s up,” Atsumu insisted, but Osamu didn’t look convinced. He shot his brother a look but didn’t press further. Later that night, as you waved goodbye and promised to see them at the next game, Osamu lingered behind. “He’s actin’ weird,” he muttered, watching Atsumu walk ahead. “Ya notice?”

You had laughed, brushing it off. “When isn’t he weird?”

It wasn’t until you started talking about someone else—Takahiro, a guy from your class—that things started to change. He was smart, funny, and polite in a way that seemed almost too perfect. You didn’t even realize how often you were mentioning him—how your eyes lit up when you talked about how he made you laugh during group projects, how he texted you after class to ask if you understood the material. At first, Atsumu barely reacted. Just a quirk of his brow and a half-hearted, “Huh. Cool.” But then it happened again. And again. And suddenly, Takahiro’s name was slipping into conversations more often than not, and Atsumu noticed. Every. Single. Time.

He didn’t say anything to you about it. But he did talk to Osamu.

“He likes her, don’t he?” Atsumu had muttered one afternoon, his voice low, barely audible as they sat in the back of the gym after practice. His knees were drawn up, elbows resting loosely on them while he picked absentmindedly at the tape around his fingers, pulling at the frayed edges like they held the answers to his problems.

Osamu raised a brow, glancing sideways at his brother. “Who? Takahiro?” His tone was neutral, but the way he looked at Atsumu was anything but.

“Yeah.” Atsumu’s jaw clenched as he peeled another strip of tape from his skin, eyes fixed on the floor. “She’s always talkin’ about him lately. Laughin’ at his dumb jokes. Her face lights up when she talks about him.”

“Since when do ya pay attention to that kinda thing?” Osamu’s tone was teasing, but there was something careful underneath it, something that probed deeper.

“I don’t.” Atsumu’s answer was too fast, too defensive. His fingers stilled against his knee, tape forgotten as he shifted, posture rigid.

Osamu tilted his head, watching his brother closely. “Right.” Silence stretched between them for a beat, thick and unspoken. “So, why do ya care?”

“I don’t.” Atsumu’s voice was quieter this time, almost too quiet. But his jaw was tight, his eyes dark with something Osamu didn’t need to ask about.

Osamu exhaled softly, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. “Yer full of shit, y’know.” He didn’t push, didn’t ask any more questions. But his words lingered in the air, hanging heavy between them. Atsumu didn’t respond, and Osamu let it go—for now. But the silence that followed spoke louder than anything Atsumu could’ve said.

You started noticing the shift after that. Atsumu was different—quieter around you, shorter with his words. His usual sharp remarks didn’t carry the same playful edge anymore. They were clipped, like he was forcing himself to stay distant. At first, you thought he was just tired. Volleyball took its toll, and with nationals approaching, it wasn’t unusual for the entire team to be running on fumes. But this was different. His usual warmth was gone, replaced by something colder, something heavier that settled in the pit of your stomach. His eyes didn’t linger on you the way they used to, and when they did, there was something in them you couldn’t place. Frustration? Hurt? You weren’t sure, but it left a bad taste in your mouth.

It all came to a head during the next game.

It was an intense match—one where every point mattered, the air thick with anticipation. You were in your usual spot in the stands, cheering louder than most of the crowd, but this time… you weren’t alone. Takahiro was beside you, leaning in close, his shoulder brushing yours as he whispered something in your ear that made you laugh. You didn’t notice the way Atsumu’s eyes flicked toward you, sharp and fleeting, but he saw it. He saw the way you smiled—soft and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corners—and it knocked the air out of his lungs.

It burned.

Atsumu’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling a little too tightly around the ball as he lined up his serve. He tried to shake it off, to focus on the game, but your laugh echoed louder than the roar of the crowd in his ears. His heartbeat pounded in his chest, faster, harder, until it drowned out everything else. The whistle blew. He tossed the ball, went through the motions—but his mind wasn’t in it. His focus was shattered, replaced by a tangled mess of emotions he didn’t know how to deal with.

The ball sailed too far.

Out of bounds.

By a mile.

The murmur that rippled through the crowd was deafening in his ears. Atsumu’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt, his teeth grinding together as he forced himself to breathe through the frustration. He didn’t look at you after that. He couldn’t. But he felt it—your eyes on him, concern etched into your features, even as you turned back to Takahiro. The tension settled like a weight in his chest, suffocating and inescapable.

Throughout the rest of the game, Atsumu was off. His sets were technically perfect, but they lacked their usual precision. His timing was a second too late, his movements a little too forced. The fire that usually burned in his veins, the one that made him relentless on the court, was barely a flicker. And no one noticed but Osamu.

“Get yer head outta yer ass, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu muttered under his breath during a timeout, his voice low enough that only Atsumu could hear. “Yer messin’ up, and I know why.”

Atsumu didn’t respond, eyes locked on the floor, jaw clenched. But Osamu wasn’t done. “If ya don’t fix it, we’re gonna lose. And if we do, it’s on you.”

By some miracle, Inarizaki still scraped by with a win—but barely. Atsumu was the first one off the court when the final whistle blew, not bothering to stick around as the team lined up to thank the crowd. His skin was crawling, frustration boiling beneath the surface as he tore off his sweat-soaked jersey and tossed it into his bag. He needed to clear his head. He needed to breathe.

And you? You noticed.

“Where’s Atsumu?” you asked, concern lacing your voice as you turned to Osamu while everyone congratulated the team. Osamu’s eyes flickered toward the gym, his expression neutral but his tone softer than usual. “Needed some air,” he muttered, his voice quiet but knowing. “Ya know how he gets.” And that was all it took.

Your chest tightened. Something told you this wasn’t just about a bad game.

“Oi, Miya!” Takahiro’s voice broke through the hum of post-game chatter as he stepped forward, flashing a bright smile. “Hell of a match out there. You guys pulled through in the end.” His words were polite, his tone smooth, but the second they left his mouth, the atmosphere shifted.

Ginjima, who was standing nearby, narrowed his eyes, barely masking his distaste as he gave Takahiro a once-over. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a second, it looked like he was about to say something. "So, ya think—"

But before he could finish, Aran stepped in, his usual easy-going demeanor firming up as he gave Takahiro a curt nod.

“Thanks,” Aran cut in smoothly, his tone polite but clipped just enough to send a message. “Appreciate it.”

Takahiro, oblivious to the silent exchange, just smiled and gave a thumbs-up. “No problem. You guys really pulled through.”

You felt the tension rolling off Ginjima, and even Kita’s usually neutral expression was unreadable as his eyes flickered between Takahiro and the team.

You lingered with the team for a little while longer, standing by Aran as he exchanged a few polite words with Takahiro, who was blissfully unaware of the underlying tension. You nodded along, adding the occasional "yeah" or "for sure" as Takahiro talked about how intense the game had been and how impressed he was by Inarizaki's performance. But your mind was elsewhere.

Atsumu’s absence gnawed at you. The way he’d left the court so quickly, the frustration rolling off of him in waves—it didn’t sit right. Something was wrong, and no matter how much you tried to focus on the conversation happening around you, the pit in your stomach wouldn’t go away.

Eventually, as the crowd began to thin out and the post-game buzz started to fade, Takahiro turned to you with that same easy smile. "We’re all gonna grab something to eat after. You coming?"

You hesitated, your heart tugging you in a different direction. "Hey… I think I’m gonna head home," you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m kinda tired."

Takahiro’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering across his face. "You sure? We were all gonna hang out for a bit."

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you replied, offering him a quick, reassuring smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Alright… text me when you get home, yeah?"

“Of course.”

But you had no intention of going home.

As Takahiro rejoined the group, you slipped away, weaving through the crowd without a second glance. Your feet moved on instinct, carrying you back toward the gym, where you knew exactly where Atsumu would be. Something gnawed at your gut, telling you this wasn’t just about a bad game. You could feel it, a weight settling in your chest, making it hard to breathe.

As you got closer to the gym, the familiar sound of volleyballs slamming against the floor echoed through the quiet night. The steady thump reverberated through the empty halls, each hit carrying a frustration that was almost palpable. Your steps slowed as you approached the entrance, the muffled grunts of effort and the sharp sound of rubber meeting wood growing louder with each step.

When you reached the doorway, you stopped, heart hammering in your ears as you took in the sight before you. Atsumu was there, just as you’d known he would be. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his hair damp and sticking to his skin. His jersey was clinging to his back, soaked through, and the gym floor was littered with scattered volleyballs, some rolling lazily across the surface after missed targets. But Atsumu wasn’t slowing down.

His jaw was clenched, his eyes locked on an invisible target as he tossed another ball into the air, his muscles flexing as he jumped, body coiling with raw power. The crack of the ball echoed through the gym as it slammed into the floor, and a grunt of frustration escaped his lips, reverberating off the walls.

You stood there, frozen for a moment, watching him pour every ounce of frustration and anger into each serve. He didn’t notice you. Not yet.

“You're gonna break the damn floor at this rate.”

Your voice echoed across the empty gym, but Atsumu didn’t stop. He tossed another ball into the air, his muscles flexing as he jumped, slamming it with a grunt that reverberated off the walls. The ball ricocheted off the floor and hit the back wall with a loud thud. His breathing was heavy, shoulders rising and falling with each ragged inhale.

“Go home.” His voice was clipped, laced with exhaustion and something sharper. He didn’t turn to look at you, eyes locked on the next ball he was already lining up.

“Atsumu,” you said softly, stepping further into the gym. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.” He tossed the ball, and another loud thwack echoed through the gym as the ball hit the floor. “Go home.”

But you didn’t move.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” Your voice was firmer this time, crossing your arms as you stood your ground. But then, as Atsumu lined up another ball, ready to serve, you couldn’t take it anymore. Your feet moved before your brain caught up, and you stepped forward, planting yourself right in front of him.

“Atsumu, stop.”

His eyes widened in surprise, the ball still gripped tightly in his hand, but you didn’t back down. You stood your ground, heart pounding as you met his gaze head-on.

“Move,” he muttered, his voice low, but there was no real heat behind it.

“No,” you said firmly, your voice unwavering. “I’m not moving until you talk to me.”

“Why even bother?” His voice was sharper now, but there was something raw beneath the anger. “Go back to yer boyfriend. Bet he’s waitin’ for ya.”

You blinked, stunned by the venom in his words. “Boyfriend? You mean Takahiro?”

“Yeah, him.” He finally turned, eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place—hurt, frustration… jealousy? “Bet he’s real smitten with ya, sittin’ in the stands, watchin’ ya smile at him like that.”

Your brows furrowed, confusion flashing across your face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Atsumu snapped, his voice rising. “I saw ya. Laughin’ at his jokes, lettin’ him get close. Ya looked real happy. Real fuckin’ happy.”

“That’s what this is about?” Your voice sharpened, anger bubbling to the surface. “You’re pissed because I was talking to Takahiro?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Atsumu drawled, his tone dripping with mock sweetness as he dropped the ball and crossed his arms. “‘Takahiro’s so nice,’” he mimicked, his voice going higher, mimicking yours in an exaggerated, sing-song way. “‘Takahiro helped me with my assignment.’ ‘Takahiro said the funniest thing today.’” He scoffed, his expression darkening as he took a step closer, his eyes flashing with something dangerously close to jealousy. “Ya never shut up about him.”

If you weren't pissed before, you sure as hell were now.

Your jaw clenched, heat rushing to your face as your hands balled into fists at your sides. “What the hell is your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” He let out a bitter laugh, eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just sick of listenin’ to ya gush about him like he hung the damn moon.”

“Are you serious right now?!” You raised your voice, the frustration bubbling over. “You’re actin’ like a damn child, Atsumu!”

“Maybe I am!” Atsumu’s voice shot up, matching yours as his face flushed with anger. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you, his eyes locked on yours with a heat that made your pulse race. “But at least I’m not the one actin’ blind to what’s right in front of me!”

“Blind to what?!” You threw your hands in the air, voice sharp and cutting as you took a step toward him, closing the space between you until there was barely any room left. Your chest brushed his as you tilted your chin up to meet his fiery gaze. “Why do you even care so much, Atsumu?!”

“Why do I care?!” He was practically towering over you now, his breath hot and ragged as his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with frustration. “Because ya never stop talkin’ about him! ‘Takahiro this, Takahiro that!’ It’s all I ever fuckin’ hear!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t act like you don’t give a damn about me!” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t back down, standing your ground even as the tension between you became suffocating.

“I don’t give a damn?!” Atsumu’s voice was louder now, the frustration bleeding into his tone as he stepped even closer, his chest brushing against yours. “You’re the one who’s been actin’ like I’m invisible! Like I’m just—just some guy while yer out there with him!”

“Then why didn’t you say something?!” You screamed, voice echoing through the gym, your frustration boiling over. Your hands were trembling now, knuckles white from how hard you were clenching them at your sides. “Why do you even care so much?!”

“Because I love you!”

The words erupted from him, loud and raw, his voice breaking as the confession echoed through the gym and filled the space between you. His chest heaved, his face flushed from a mix of anger and desperation, and his eyes—wide, vulnerable, and filled with something you hadn’t seen before—were locked onto yours.

You froze, the weight of his words crashing down like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless, your heart pounding in your ears. The world went silent, and for the first time since you’d stepped into that gym, neither of you had anything left to say.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you stared at him, his chest still heaving from the force of his confession. The air felt thick, suffocating, as your mind raced to process what he had just said. Seconds stretched on, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Then, without thinking, without giving yourself a chance to second-guess it, you stepped forward. Your eyes locked on his, your expression unreadable, and before he could say another word, you grabbed the front of his jersey, yanking him down.

"You’re so fucking stupid," you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant. It was fierce, fueled by weeks—no, months—of pent-up frustration, confusion, and feelings you had pushed down for far too long. Your lips crashed into his, and Atsumu froze for half a second before he was kissing you back with just as much desperation. His hands found your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, and the world around you blurred until nothing else existed.

The anger, the yelling, the unspoken words—they all melted away, leaving only the two of you, tangled in the heat of the moment, finally giving in to everything you’d both been too stubborn to admit.

[semifilms]

semi, ATSUMU, osamu, hinata, TENDOU, OIKAWA, IWAIZUMI, kuroo, SUGAWARA, akaashi, TANAKA, aran, GOSHIKI, asahi, USHIJIMA, UKAI, kyotani, suna, terushima

[kitasgloves]

Wassup Suki, Wassup Bullet

Kageyama, Tsukishima, Kenma, Iwaizumi, Akaashi, Ushijima, Kita, Osamu

Wassup Riri, Wassup Rocky

Daichi, Kuroo, Oikawa, Matsukawa, Semi, Atsumu, Suna, Aran, Sakusa

Hi Barbie, Hi Ken

Hinata, Hanamaki, Bokuto, Tendou, Komori, Hoshiumi

[cottonlemonade]

Thinking about your countryside boyfriend from Miyagi or Hyogo teaching you how to ride a bike.

You’d just moved from Tokyo and are used to the hustle and bustle of city traffic and the endless opportunities of public transport. It was anxiety inducing enough to see the bike messengers zipping through the steady stream of cars to put you off ever wanting to get onto one of those flimsy looking two wheeled contraptions.

But life is slower in the rural parts of Japan and if you miss your bus to school, well, have fun waiting an hour for the next one. So one day, when you talk to your boyfriend about the inconvenience of it all, he suggests to get a bike like most other students. You can even ride together, he suggests. He’d gladly pick you up in the mornings and bring you home after school, too.

It all sounds very romantic and cute and you’re very excited - for about a minute - and then remember that you’ve never learned how to ride a bike because there was no need for it before. Your boyfriend blinks, then chuckles and offers to teach you, no problem.

And now you’re on an empty open road on a Sunday morning in the sleepy village you live in, wobbling over the very stony dirt. Your boyfriend got you a helmet matching his own and was holding tight to the rear rack.

“You’re doing great! - Keep peddling! - You’re doing it!”, he praised and let go just for you to immediately lose control and roll gently down a very grassy slope, only bruising your ego. He laughs as he helps you back up, brushing blades of grass from your back, maybe giving your squishy love handles some more attention then necessary until you giggle. He rightens your helmet again, giving it a teasing rap with his knuckles. “Good thing you had this on. Come on, one more time.”

When you finally do manage to stay steady he jumps and cheers as if his team just won a game and runs over to you.

“Did you see?!”, you squeak excitedly.

“I did! Look at you! You’re becoming one of us after all.”

You beam at him when he gives you a kiss. Then he jogs back to grab his own bike leaning against a boulder for your first official run to the convenience store with your bikes.

Daichi, Sugawara, Asahi, Noya, Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukishima (although far less enthusiastically), Yamaguchi, Ennoshita, Kita, Aran, Atsumu, Osamu, Suna, Oomimi, your rural fave

[flyingwargle]

aran week day 6: boundaries

aran hates the town of inarizaki.

there’s a sizable population of elders and kids, whose parents left them behind to work in the cities. the only adults left are staff at the elementary, junior high, and high schools, rice farmers who also do odd jobs outside of harvest season, municipal workers and others who have businesses in the town center.

then, there’s his dad, in charge of a buddhist temple on the outskirts of town.

the temple comes with a large property, which they occupy a corner of. his dad spends most of the day sifting through papers and materials left behind the old caretaker while aran is expected to go to school, make friends, enjoy his childhood. he would, if the kids didn’t whisper behind his back, visibly flinch away from him, pointedly turn the other way whenever they see him in the hallway.

just because his skin is darker than theirs.

he lives away from the town center, deep in the forest. aran always feared what’d happen if he got lost, wondered if the trees would teleport him to a place where he’d be accepted, where he wouldn’t be teased for his looks or his dad’s job.

his eyes dart upward at the rustling bush ahead of him, noticing the tip of a fox’s tail disappearing into the foliage. even he knows of the town’s protectors, twin foxes sent by inari-sama herself. if he catches one of them, maybe they’ll grant his wish? he looks around before stepping off the trail and into the trees.

aran bumbles through the undergrowth, poked by stray branches and leaves. every so often, he stops and listens for rustling, stepping through foliage in its direction. “hello?” he calls out. “fox-san? are ya there?”

no answer, obviously. he is undeterred, moving deeper and deeper into the forest, so determined to move forward that he doesn’t notice the sudden slope beneath his feet.

“wah!” his shriek echoes around him. he loses his balance, falls onto his back, slides down the hill. branches and leaves rip his exposed arms and legs, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

the ground straightens beneath him. he daren’t opens his eyes, afraid of what he’ll see. if he keeps them closed, he can imagine himself at home with his dad, safe and sound, instead of lost in the labyrinth of nature, where no one can find him.

i don’t wanna be here. i wanna go home. please, inari-sama, take me home.

--

he isn’t sure how he dozed off, but when he returns to himself, he hears voices.

“…ya just had ta let yerself be seen, an’ look what happened.” a drawl like his own, only deeper and annoyed. “inari-sama’s probably pissed at ya.”

“inari-sama’s always pissed at me.” a snort in reply, also with an accented drawl. it’s different from the first voice, slightly lighter and carefree. “i’ll bring the kid home, relax. can ya heal him fer me?”

“fine, but ya owe me.”

aran struggles to open his eyes, but stops at the blanket of warmth that covers his limbs, stinging scratches reduced to a whisper of pain. the sensation fades a moment later, the cool spring air causing him to shiver in the aftermath. “there. ya better take him home.”

“yeah, yeah. it’s always me runnin’ ‘round town while ya just sit at the shrine an’ look pretty.”

“that would be nice, if the humans could see us.” the dirt shifts. “i’ll see ya later.”

the air starts to move around aran, and he realizes someone is carrying him. still, the weight on his eyes remains, leaving him no choice but to relax, resting his head against the person’s chest. the fabric reminds him of a hakama, a familiar sensation after years of sitting on his dad’s lap while he read to him.

“hey, kid.” the drawl addresses him. “yer gonna be okay. i’ll bring ya home ta yer papa soon, ‘kay?”

he tries to speak, but it’s like his mouth is sewn shut. “i used a lil’ bit o’ magic on ya, just so ya won’t see me,” the voice continues. “ya might remember this, ya might not. youkai gotta do what they gotta ta protect themselves.”

youkai. his dad told him stories about them, about tsukomogami, kitsune, kama itachi, spirits and deities. there are very few who can see them, as they do not want to be seen. some can be cruel, but many are benevolent, harmless creatures who live parallel to humans.

“ya don’t gotta worry ‘bout those scrubs at school, either. they aren’t worth yer time.”

how does this youkai know about that? aran wants to ask, but the voice sweeps on. “it takes time fer friends ta come, but when they do, they’ll be friends ya keep. so don’t give up, yeah? yer a strong kid, not even cryin’ after yer tumble. i rescued a bunch o’ squirts who wailed their heads off, even chased me or my brother off when we tried ta help. ya got a kind heart; find others who see it.”

the air shifts as he’s lowered onto grass, kissed by the sun. aran feels control return to his body, and he wrestles his eyes open, vision blurry. however, it’s enough to see a young man with golden tails and pointed ears on top of his head walk away from his line of sight, dressed in a hakama. “stay safe, kid.”

--

the next morning, he leaves the temple with a backpack around his shoulders. he walks through the forest to school, and as he’s about to emerge from the trees, he spots a golden fox watching him with wide, golden eyes. aran stops a safe distance away, blinks at the fox. he smiles, dips his head, and continues his way, letting the fox watch him depart.

maybe staying in town would be so bad, after all.

[runekirikjartan]

Mandokarla Aran AU notes

Fox has tattoos all spanning his shoulders/back with ritual rites and the names of the vode sacrificed

the guard have the protection of kad ha'rangir

Fox's batchers are Bacara, Neyo, Faie and Doom

Fox is the second oldest in his batch

Fox's hair started going grey 3 months into the war from shock

he has a scar on his forearm where Carver and Murmur had him in surgery for six hours

[shiplikemyhelmet]

Treasure Chest Opened! You Acquired a Space Dragon egg!

At first, the feared Huntress is ready to smash the egg open with her fists. She, at first, has no idea what species this egg belongs to, only that it is something profoundly dangerous. A quick scan reveals it to be the potential progeny of her most hated foe. As far as she knew, he, too, was the last of his kind. Could he have laid this egg? It wasn't impossible; certain species where known to either change their sexes or possess the reproductive organs of both. Regardless of who it belonged to, she was hit with an immediate wave of disgust when she realized what she was about to do. If she smashed that egg opened, she would be no better than the hateful creature that laid it. But what to do with it? She wasn't about to raise a dragon herself. As a nomad living out of her ship, she had no room to house such a beast nor a stable employment to provide for a youngling. Best to leave it in the care of an expert, maybe a scientist, or an orphanage or something. One thing was certain; it most certainly wasn't going to be returned to its kind.

[playboydax]

While Samus hadn't completely retired from bounty hunting since the "enhancement incident", she had been able to carve out a more comfortable life for herself and her new boyfriend as she took advantage of the more steady stream of income her OnlyFans account now provided.

[rosierin]

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ hq m.list

suna ; separate from the off-season quartet series

thunderstorms and reheated prawns 

⇨ suna gets food poisoning and his little sister calls you for help

sick day 

⇨ in which suna pays you a visit when you miss out on school

one more night 

⇨ includes; lost keys, 4am McDonald’s, shooting stars and mutual pining

weak dates, roommates, and fanfiction bad takes 

⇨ suna picks you up after a disappointing date and on the way back home you engage in a riveting conversation about fanfiction.

happily ever after 

⇨ you’re put in charge of babysitting suna’s little sister but your period pains cut your evening short. instead, suna lulls you both to sleep by reading you a story as you cosy up in bed

atsumu ; separate from the off-season quartet series

mischief & manner 

⇨ kitsune au. whimsical, fun, innocent, adventure, coming of age

close quarters

⇨ “and there was only one bed”

“mildly inebriated” 

⇨ in which a drunken atsumu shares his thoughts about reader and suna’s past relationship

colors (mix of short imagines)

⇨ an ode to my fav hq boys

(not) him

⇨ a continuation of my suna self ship in which reader realises she’s no longer in love with atsumu but his friend, suna

osamu ; separate from the off-season quartet series

mischief & manner 

⇨ kitsune au. whimsical, fun, innocent, adventure, coming of age

one hell of a cook

⇨ osamu participates in an onigiri-making competition for charity and meets a chaotic cook who he finds oddly endearing despite their lack of culinary skill

other ;

scording a date (is harder than scoring a point) | kageyama tobio

⇨ kageyama’s shy attempt at confessing his feelings to you. feat wingman hinata and the karasuno hype squad

shinsuke de hyōgo | kita shinsuke

⇨ kita is poor with words and his s/o is left underwhelmed by his confession. who does he turn to for advice? the miyas of course! what could possibly go wrong?

studying with you | tsukishima kei

⇨ studying with tsukishima involves lots of eye rolling, backhanded comments and just a hint of attraction

moments like these | nishinoya yuu

⇨ childhood friends to lovers drabble. starring a mediocre football game, a not-so-accident accident and piggybacks

headcanons ;

what they buy you for christmas

⇨ ft.daichi, sugawara, asahi, nishinoya, tanaka, kageyama, hinata, tsukishima, yamaguchi

what they buy you for christmas (part 2)

⇨ ft. oikawa, iwa, mattsun, makki, kyotani, kunimi

what they buy you for christmas (part 3)

⇨ ft. kuroo, kenma, lev, bokuto, akaashi

what they buy you for christmas (part 4)

⇨ ft. ushijima, tendou, semi, atsumu, osamu, suna, aran, terushima, aone

what they smell like

⇨ ft. hinata, kageyama, tsukishima, yamaguchi, tanaka, nishinoya, daichi, suga, asahi, oikawa, iwaizumi, kyotani, atsumu, osamu, kita, suna, bokuto, akaashi, kuroo, kenma, lev, ushijima, tendou

who their favourite disney princesses are

⇨ ft. akaashi, suna, daichi, asahi, tendou, yams, tsukki, kuroo, ushijima, tanaka, iwaizumi

who their favourite disney princesses are (part 2)

⇨ ft. kageyama, kita, oikawa, osamu, nishinoya, kenma, suga, bokuto, atsumu

haikyuu boys as big brothers

⇨ ft. many

haikyuu boys as big brothers (part 2)

⇨ ft. many

what the haikyuu boys wear

⇨ ft. twins, suna, sakusa

what the haikyuu boys wear (part 2)

⇨ ft. oikawa, iwaizumi, kageyama, hinata

what the haikyuu boys wear (part 3)

⇨ ft. kuroo, kenma, bokuto, akaashi

what the haikyuu boys wear (part 4)

⇨ ft. tanaka, nishinoya, tsukki, yamaguchi

random things guys do that are attractive

⇨ ft. many

oddly specific haikyuu headcanons

⇨ ft. atsumu

oddly specific haikyuu headcanons

⇨ ft. suna

being friends w/ the haikyuu boys includes;

⇨ ft. the seijoh 3rd years, the twins + suna, the karasuno 3rd years, tendou (with a hint of ushijima), nishinoya and tanaka, the terushima squad

haikyuu x squid game: who survives?

⇨ ft. 47 characters, so pretty much the whole cast

[haikyu-mp4]

imagine you move in with Kita and turn on his tv to watch netflix, only to find that all four profiles of the family plan he apparently pays for are filled:

Kita, Suna, Miya 1 and Miya 2

(both twins use Miya 1 so Aran is actually undercover as Miya 2)

[noorpersona]

Managerial Duties: Inarizaki

The gym hummed with the familiar sounds of practice—sneakers squeaking against the polished wooden floor, the rhythmic thuds of volleyballs being passed, the sharp whistles from the coaching staff calling out drills. Despite the usual intensity, one corner of the court stood out, where a first-year was repeatedly failing to receive a serve. Every time the ball came hurtling over the net, it ricocheted off his forearms awkwardly or skidded away in an uncontrolled direction. His frustration was palpable, his shoulders tense as he shook his head and muttered under his breath.

You had been watching from the sidelines, arms folded as you observed the way his stance shifted just before contact. His weight was off, and his timing was a fraction too slow—small errors that compounded into one big problem. With a sigh, you stepped forward, motioning for him to pause.

“Try widening your base a little more,” you instructed, tapping your foot against the floor to demonstrate. “If you keep standing so stiff, the ball’s just going to knock you off balance. Loosen up, shift with it, don’t fight it.”

The first-year hesitated before nodding, adjusting his stance as you had suggested. Before he could attempt again, however, a familiar voice cut through the air, dripping with smug amusement.

“She may be the manager,” Atsumu drawled from across the court, his golden eyes glinting with mischief, “but try takin’ advice from an actual player.”

A ripple of laughter followed his words as he sauntered closer, spinning a volleyball between his fingers. His smirk was lazy, self-assured, the kind of expression that made you want to wipe it clean off his face. You slowly turned to face him, leveling him with an unimpressed stare.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had a PhD in receiving,” you shot back, voice laced with dry sarcasm. “By all means, Miya, please educate us lesser beings.”

The gym’s atmosphere shifted instantly. A few players who had been in their own drills slowed, turning their heads with interest. The rest of the team wasn’t going to let this pass unnoticed. Osamu, who had been idly refilling his water bottle, perked up from his spot near the bench, already smirking as he anticipated the banter that was about to unfold.

Atsumu’s grin widened, his cockiness unshaken. “Ain’t about havin’ a PhD. It’s about experience. And last I checked, ya ain’t the one out there servin’ in nationals.”

A slow, knowing smile curled on your lips. "You're right, I'm not. But then again, you spend all your time servin’, while I actually learned how to receive."

The reaction was instant. Aran let out a low whistle, Osamu barked out a laugh, and even Suna's smirk twitched slightly. Atsumu tilted his head, clearly amused, but you caught the flicker of something sharper behind his expression—curiosity.

“Oh yeah?” he mused, tapping the volleyball lightly against his palm. “Then how ‘bout ya prove it?”

The words barely left his mouth before the other players reacted. Suna, who had been casually stretching nearby, sat up straighter, his gaze flicking between you and Atsumu like he had just stumbled upon something far more entertaining than practice. The rest of the team quickly caught on, whispers and murmurs spreading like wildfire.

Atsumu ignored them, eyes locked on you. “C’mon, manager. Think ya can handle one?”

The challenge hung between you like a taut wire, the weight of every gaze in the gym settling on your shoulders. Most of them, you knew, were already betting against you in their heads. Atsumu was known for his ruthless, pinpoint-accurate serves, the kind that left even the best liberos struggling.

But that’s exactly what made this fun.

You exhaled slowly, reaching up to unbutton your team jacket before sliding it off in one smooth motion. A hush fell over the court as you folded it over your arm and set it aside. Without a word, you walked to the opposite side of the court, rolling your shoulders as you moved. Along the way, you grabbed a pair of spare knee pads from the equipment pile, sliding them over your track pants. Then, with practiced ease, you crouched into a libero’s ready stance, feet planted, knees bent, weight balanced perfectly.

“Bring it,” you said simply.

Osamu groaned, already sensing where this was going. “Don’t be stupid. Ya know his serves are hell.”

You didn't talk much, getting into the zone. "I know."

Osamu’s brows lifted. “You know?”

Atsumu’s smirk twitched slightly, something unreadable flickering across his features. “And what exactly do ya know?” But you don't respond.

You didn’t move, didn’t blink—just stared at him, completely unfazed, waiting for him to serve.

You rolled your shoulders, shaking out any stiffness, meeting his gaze. “That your serves are fast. That they’re heavy, deceptive. That if I blink, I’ll miss it. That you’re expecting me to screw this up.” You smirked slightly. “That about sum it up?”

A beat of silence passed before Aran let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Atsumu tilted his head, his usual smugness fading into something else—interest. He bounced the volleyball once against the floor before catching it, eyes gleaming. “Alright, then. Let’s see what ya got.”

Aran crossed his arms, letting out a slow sigh. "This ain’t a smart move."

Osamu clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Hope ya like bruises."

The court stilled as Atsumu took his place at the baseline, rolling his shoulders before tossing the ball in his usual pre-serve routine. The tension was palpable now, a mix of disbelief and anticipation.

Most of them thought you were about to get wrecked.

"Ten bucks on the manager eatin’ dirt," Ginjima muttered, arms crossed as he glanced at the others.

"Nah, I’ll say she gets a hand on it but doesn’t control it," one of the first-years chimed in.

"I got five on Atsumu embarrassing her," another snickered.

"Idiots," Aran sighed. "At least bet somethin’ interesting."

Suna, however, leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed, watching with a smirk.

“Put me down for a win,” he said, voice calm.

Osamu looked at him like he was insane. “Ya serious?”

Suna’s smirk widened. “Yeah. I’ve got a good feeling.”

Atsumu, unaware of the exchange, exhaled deeply before tossing the ball high into the air. In the split second before he made contact, everything seemed to slow.

Then—

A sharp, deafening crack as his palm connected with the ball, sending it screaming over the net with vicious speed. It was a perfect serve—fast, cutting, barely losing momentum as it hurtled straight toward you. Gasps rang out as everyone braced for the inevitable.

But you were already moving.

Your feet pushed off the ground with practiced precision, body reacting purely on instinct. Time snapped back into motion as you lunged forward, reading the spin in a split second, dropping into a perfect tumble to absorb the impact. The ball met your forearms with a loud thwack, and for a heartbeat, there was only silence.

Then, impossibly, the ball arced upward—clean, controlled, perfect.

It landed precisely where a setter would need it.

The gym erupted.

“What the hell?” Ginjima gawked, eyes wide.

“No way,” one of the first-years breathed.

Osamu just stood there, mouth slightly open before slowly dragging a hand down his face. "Well, damn. I should’ve bet against ‘Tsumu."

Atsumu, still frozen at the baseline, blinked at you in genuine disbelief. His mouth opened, then closed. He tried again, but all that came out was, "How—?"

A pause. His brows furrowed, his brain visibly short-circuiting. "But ya—?"

Silence. A deep inhale, then a third attempt. "There’s no way—"

Nothing coherent followed.

Atsumu looked genuinely betrayed by reality itself, struggling to reconcile what had just happened with everything he knew about volleyball.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. A sharp, satisfied sound, the kind that made the stunned silence in the gym even more ridiculous. "Oh my god, you look like you just saw a ghost," you teased, shaking your head.

You rolled your shoulders, exhaling slowly as you straightened up. "I played libero in middle school, and I still play casual games." A brief pause, then you nodded toward Suna. "We went to the same middle school. Suna knows."

Every head in the gym turned to Suna, who simply smirked, arms still folded. He let the silence stretch for a moment before tilting his head toward the rest of the team.

“So,” he said smoothly, “who owes me what?”

Before anyone could react further, a new voice cut through the noise. "What’s everyone standing around for?"

The entire team turned to see Kita standing in the doorway, his usual composed expression tinged with mild disapproval. The court immediately fell into silence, the players straightening unconsciously as if caught slacking.

"Uh," Ginjima cleared his throat. "Just—observin’ somethin’ important, Kita."

Kita’s sharp gaze swept over the court before landing on Atsumu, who still hadn't moved from the baseline, then flicked toward you, standing composed and unruffled. "Hm." His eyes narrowed slightly before he simply nodded. "Get back to work."

Without another word, the gym broke back into motion, though murmurs still floated around, disbelief lingering in the air.

With that, you dusted off your hands and turned toward the exit. "Alright, I'll be back."

As soon as you stepped past the gym doors and out of their line of sight, the composure you had held so effortlessly cracked. A sharp, searing ache radiated through your forearms, the sting of the brutal impact catching up to you all at once. You sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to cradle your arms like they had just been run over.

"Holy shit," you hissed under your breath, shaking out your wrists in a futile attempt to lessen the throbbing. Atsumu really didn’t hold back. The ball had practically dented your bones.

You glanced down at your skin, already seeing the faint beginnings of bruises forming beneath the surface. Yep, no way you were getting through the next week without feeling this.

Forcing yourself to walk straight despite the radiating pain, you took a sharp turn down the hallway and made a beeline for the nurse’s office.

"Long sleeves for the next week, it is," you muttered to yourself, resigned to your fate as you pushed the door open, fully ready to drown in an ice pack for the next hour.

[sukumna]

triggers. DARK content ahead

₊˚⊹ 📃 — DRABBLES

atsumu + fleshlight

₊˚⊹ 📃 — SHORTS

atsumu | downwards dog / 2:11 AM

₊˚⊹ 📃 — HC’S

visiting practice with the kids - atsumu, bokuto, oikawa, suna

his favorite type of sex - oikawa, osamu, atsumu, suna, bokuto, iwaizumi

his favorite type of sex part two - kenma, kuroo, hinata, kageyama, tsuki, akaashi

his favorite type of sex part three - sakusa, kyotani, meian, aran, kita, issei

brats or good girls - inarinzaki

₊˚⊹ 📃 — ONESHOTS

tba

[mintmatcha]

I want to hear more of that reader and that kita when you have the time. I got my emotional support plushie ready with me

cw: brief mention of blood, reader is chronically ill. linked to the other kita drabbles ive done lately lol

--

Kita regrets saying it before it's even out of his mouth.

"I think she's going to leave me."

The table goes quiet. Aran sets down his beer with a pressed brow, Suna looks up from his side conversation with Atsumu, who's slackjawed and wide eyed. Osamu chews his food noticeably slower, his eyes flicking to his twin in silent conversation.

"Uh," Aran gathers himself first. "That's a big thing to drop, buddy."

"I thought things were getting better." Osamu says, bringing his bottle to his mouth for a big swig. He's Kita's usual confidante-- and from the looks he's exchanged with Astumu, Kita thinks the other twin may know the whole story as all.

"They were." Kita sighs. He taps his nails against the glass of his unopened bottle. The beds are bitten down to the quick: a new habit for him.

Really, he doesn't know why he grabbed the beverage at all. He doesn't drink; the taste of alcohol never suited him.

"But now they aren't."

"I doubt she'd leave." Suna shrugs it off, tone fairly light. "After everything, it'd be kind of ungrateful."

"Don't say that." It was a joke, but Kita still doesn't let it sit. "Everything I've done-- everything I do--"

Emotion almost rises in his voice, but Kita fights it down. Chronic illness is a nearly constant struggle. You always see yourself as a burden because of it, but he won't let anyone else see you that way. "It's what you do when you love someone. Nothing more."

"Sorry. I didn't mean it like that." Suna raises his hands together, as if praying. "Just... After everything you've been through together-"

"Why do you think she'd leave?" Aran saves his friend from finishing that statement.

"Things have been tense. Her health's been down, money has been-" Nonexistent. "Tight. It's been... tense. Very tense. I don't think she can handle the stress."

Last night had been the worst of it. Another bill had rolled in and you had caught it before he could squirrel it away. You cried at the kitchen table, so fiercely that your nose bled and your migraine rolled in. He suggested a doctor's visit, which only made your sobbing worse.

The two of you slept on opposite sides of the mattress. You didn't say goodnight.

"I mean-"

The table's attention snaps to the mouthy blonde.

"Atsumu."

"Atsumu..."

"Atsumu, be careful." The three men warn in unison.

"Fuck off, I'm gonna say something good." Atsumu leans in, resting on his elbows. "I think that you're the best person to be stressed out with, so that's gotta mean something."

"But if she had married someone else, she wouldn't be so stressed." Kita says. "Someone with a modern home, in the city..." And a bank account that wasn't near the negatives.

Kita twists the top off of his beer and takes a swig. The hops burn his throat and blossom in his stomach; a welcome feeling compared to the misery he's been tasting.

"Things will get better." Suna nudges him with an elbow. "They have to, right?"

No, Kita thinks, they could always get worse.