#atsumu miya x you

[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.

[forusomimiya]

Atsumu moans like a slut. It's a fact.

He knows that his moans, high or low, create a swirl in your belly, reminding you of how weak you are every time you hear them. Inevitable to hear even though they are a perfect fucking melody, so well intoned, that when they enter your ear, they send a shock straight to your pussy and you, clearly, can only moan in response.

“Ahh darling... so tight you can't stop moaning every time you take me. So much - shit - s-so much you missed me? Huh?"

His moans have become long and drawn out, like torture, sweet torture. Your vision blurs as you find you can't concentrate and you stop resisting the beautiful guttural sound Atsumu sings in your ear.

"Mhmmm babe close... ‘m so - so close nngh shit- hah...so close to fill you up, make you mine... ’cause you want it, don't you? You - want me s-so, soo bad?

You nod, entwining your legs around his waist and urging him to pick up the pace before with a muted warning, making Atsumu to struggle to hold on to the squeeze on his cock, he knows you're cumming with him.

"Yeah - yeah that's it... cum with me pretty girl, remember who - fuck- you belong to. Sing it on my ears, ah~”

[moechies]

tsumu - nii ❤︎ cw cest

“s-s so creamy, ‘tsumu-nii.”

“yeah? you like it ?”

“mm . .”

you slobber around the tip of atsumu’s cock, strings of spit dribbling down the heavy shaft. one hand wraps around his heavy base , the other around his blushed tip accompanying your mouth.

you’re crouched in between his spread legs , only seconds ago when you had asked your nii-chan for something unfamiliar .

₊˚⊹ ❤︎

“can i suck your cock, nii-nii ? please !”

“no honey. y’gonna hurt yourself, you don’t know how t’do it. next time , okay?”

“but— “ you protest with a petulant whine.

“i said no. y’really need nii-nii to repeat himself?”

“i’m sorry nii-nii..” you mewl.

he’s so mean. you had only wanted to help , since he had complained about the raging hard-on he seemingly ‘couldn’t get rid of,’ struggling and squirming in his spot on the couch. frankly, it was bothering you too.

you just want what’s best for your nii-chan.

you lean against his chest, his arms enveloping the small of your body , but he feels a tiny pang in his heart as he watches you pout, upset at his rejection.

he sighs and you look up, “okay fine. wanna try sucking nii-chan’s cock then?”

he swears he sees your eyes light up.

❤︎ ⊹˚₊

“n-nii nii, i really like it.”

“y’makin’ nii-chan feel so good baby. don’t hurt yourself now.”

“won’t..” you whine at his constant reminders.

you kiss against his tip, tasting his creamy pre on the plush of your lips. you have yet to take him down your throat without instruction ; you know he was likely to scold you if you had.

he runs his fingers through the soft of your hair , soft pats to the top of your head.

“gorgeous sis.”

you blush at the compliment , eager for more. you place the tip of his shaft against your tongue , soft suckles to the sensitive tip.

“ah.. shit . ‘s perfect for nii-nii.”

you rub your thighs together when he grunts , hand crawling back into the bed of your hair with a gentle tug.

“wanna learn how t’make nii-chan feel even better ?”

[loveiwaizumis]

vball captain!atsumu miya + manager!reader . . <3

-> pure fluff + sfw, not proofread, new to writing pls omfg 😭 -> !! reader is female !! . . . inarizaki captain!atsumu miya who was utterly scared, but nonetheless proud of getting his dream role in the volleyball team after years of playing, until all his fears went away when a certain (h/c) girl was introduced to the team as the official manager inarizaki captain!atsumu miya who secretly admired how adorable you were, sitting on the bench like a supportive girlfriend, noting down anything and everything about the team, training them personally from time to time, bringing them water bottles.. everything you did was adorable to a certain blonde..! inarizaki captain!atsumu miya who used his position to get close to you, but never try to force himself on you. he would playfully insist that you give him his water bottle first as captain, or he would intentionally ask you to help him demonstrate a few exercises with the team just to feel your touch, but he would also insist on washing the water bottles and towels with you in his spare time, or would offer to lock up instead of you so you could get home early, claiming that "he's your captain too, he needs to take care of you like any other member". inarizaki manager!reader who started staying later after practice with inarizaki captain!atsumu miya to help him improve and to ensure that the captain was not overworking himself. partly due to coach's suggestion, but mostly because you had started to care for the blonde as well. inarizaki captain!atsumu miya who ended up catching a fever and missing out on practice after a particularly hard and long day at practice in addition to the usual extra practice that you were unable to supervise this time due to another extra curricular activity. inarizaki captain!atsumu miya who was floored to see his beloved manager at his doorstep with pickled plums, medicine, and hot soup wrapped daintily in a little basket. he felt himself collecting tears upon hearing you ramble about how worried you were, scolding him to not overwork himself and how important his health is, how important he is. inarizaki captain!atsumu miya who began to whine and started tearing up due to how touched he truly was by your gesture, and how ashamed he was to seem even the slightest bit of weak in front of you especially as a captain. inarizaki captain!atsumu miya who, in his little tantrum, had ended up accidentally spilling how he wanted to be the one to impress you and how he should be doing the romantic gestures and not you. inarizaki captain!atsumu miya who was even more floored, jaw dropped wide, when he finally heard his beloved manager offer to let him swoon her with his "romantic gestures" once he got better. ---- @loveiwaizumis 2024 please do not repost, translate, copy. reblogs and likes appreciated <3

[kairismess]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ THERE'S ONLY ONE BED...

featuring atsumu miya.

a low whistle escaped his lips as he set your bags down on the low cabinets of your shared hotel room. "gotta be grateful for the tight budget this season," the blonde mutters under his breath with a sneaky grin and a low chuckle, with your eyes gazing down at the single king sized bed with white duvet covers in the middle of the room that was perched against the wall.

you rolled your eyes, clearly hearing him relish in the fact there's only one bed to share between you two. you set your things down while atsumu relaxed on the bed, his toned legs crosses and his muscular arms behind his head in bliss, while a satisfied smirk rested on his face.

"where're ya goin', sugar?" he asked you with a cheeky smile, his eyes gleaming with mischief. you gave him a quick side eye and shrugged, taking your coat off, much to his delight. "i'm fixing our stuff," "why, 'sit broken?" he asked in such a sarcastic manner, sitting up and looking at you with a silly little smile on his face.

you sighed as you unpacked your bags, with atsumu chuckling once more as he gets up from the bed and crouches down behind you, wrapping his large palms around your waist. "so cute when yer ignorin' me... and the fact we gotta share the bed t'night..." "i'm going to get another room," you joked in a deadpanned tone, making atsumu whine and embrace you.

"yer no fun!" he exclaimed, pouting. you huffed and pulled away from him, making him pout even more. he didn't want to say it, but he truly wanted you to be with him in the same bed tonight; even if you two wouldn't do anything too crazy, he just wanted to be next to you, just to feel you close to him, his arms wrapped around you–that's all that can make him happy tonight.

as you two got in the bed, atsumu did his very best to keep away from you as much as possible, for your comfort. he gave your preferred side of the bed, most of the blanket area, and kept his distance as much as possible. "alright, well... g'night, shrimpy," he whispered to you as he closed the bedside lamp, trying to calm his hammering heart in his chest at the fact you're sharing a bed together.

by some miracle, you turned around, faced him in the midst of the darkness, and moved yourself closer to atsumu. much to his confusion and fluster, you made his heart race a thousandfold when you asked him, "why aren't you hugging me?" placing his hands around your waist and wrapping your arms around his neck, atsumu could feel his face heat up and his throat go dry as he's living out his dreams, right here, right now.

"well, didn't think you'd want me to..." he muttered shyly. you pressed your nose against his, sighing softly, making atsumu's breath hitch in his throat. "of course i want you to..." you replied, making all of atsumu's worries melt away, with him shakily asking you, "really?" and you nodding in reassurance.

that night, atsumu slept well with you in his arms, and occasionally, him in your arms. atsumu loved being spooned by you, it made his heart flutter. sure, he hadn't really admitted everything he was feeling about you, but he figured that, little by little he'd be able to tell you.

and hopefully... hopefully, you'd feel the same way, and hold him like this every time you two are laying together–the way he dreams things to always be between you two when the time comes.

[cyanhydrangea]

Call Me By My First Name

Summary: Miya Atsumu wants the girl he's been chasing after to call him by his first name. After all, everybody else does to tell him apart with his twin. He managed to make her do it when she finally has no other choice.

"(First Name)!", Atsumu called you, making his way towards you from the school gate, leaving his twin behind. He greeted you a 'good morning' afterwards. 

"Good morning, Miya-san", you greeted Atsumu back with a straight face.

Atsumu sighed, "I told ya to just call me by my first name"

"None can do", you said unbothered.

Atsumu pouted. You're always like this, never call him 'Atsumu' like everyone else, ever so polite. You two are not dating or anything, Atsumu wished you two were though, but everybody else calls him by his first name to tell him apart with his twin.

His face lighten and he smiled as he's about to ask you a question he's been asking every single day.

"Go out with me?"

"No"

And your immediate response always making Atsumu eager to court you everyday.

====

You never understand why the louder Miya always chasing after you since high school. You always reject his request to date him. But along the way, you find yourself adore how headstrong he is in loving you. So when Black Jackals won another grand match and he shouted:

"MARRY ME, (LAST NAME) (FIRST NAME)?"

Anyone in their right mind wouldn't accept proposals out of the blue without proper relationship beforehand, but perhaps it was his determination that makes you fall for him, so you shouted 'YES' and you could swore the more stubborn Miya looks like the happiest man in the world.

And it was the night after your wedding when Atsumu can't stop grinning happily towards you without saying anything.

"What?", you had to ask your husband.

"Now you have no other choice but to call me by my first name, Mrs. Miya"

You chuckled, a smile plastered over your face.

"Fine, you win, Atsumu"

#CyanHydrangea

Date Written: 12/03/2024

[missmeinyourbones]

L, pro athlete atsumu and reader for "the only kind of girl they see is a one night or a wife" has me THINKING

ONE NIGHT OR A WIFE (a. miya)

a/n: pro athlete atsumu, implied woman identifying reader -> slight talks of womanhood and slut-shaming, atsumu is trying so hard he has the spirit he’s just ken

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

When the front door clicks behind you,  you're greeted with the back of a messy blonde mop peeking from above the lip of the couch. Atsumu doesn't have to turn around to know it's you coming through the door, but you don't even give him a chance to guess with the immediate interrogation flying from your lips.

"Why are we trending on Twitter?"

Amused, Atsumu turns around to catch a glimpse of your panicked face before he smirks, turning around and redirecting his attention back to the television.

"Oh, they think I proposed to you again."

His words oddly bring a wave of comfort over you, and when you exhale and plop down on the cushion next to his sprawled-out limbs, he lets his hand gently run through your frizzy hair.

And you don't pretend to ignore how it's weird that this calms you—that enough people on the internet typed and searched and chatted about the two of you to get it trending. How many people need to talk about something for it to trend worldwide? You think about googling it, but that's a headache waiting to happen.

Instead, you slump into his touch and try to keep your tone humorous when you ask, "On what grounds this time?"

Atsumu is now far from affected by the newlywed allegation, as this isn't the first (or second) time the media thinks he's popped the question to you. You always feel a bit warm when remembering the first time the rumor spiraled. How flustered he was, how he couldn’t meet your eye when opening the app for weeks, how it led to your first actual conversation about a future together. 

Now immune to the gossip, he casually fishes for his phone in his sweatpants and lazily pulls up a paparazzi photo of the two of you leaving dinner a few nights ago.

"Here," he hands the screen to you, borderline yawning. “This picture from the other night,” he has the audacity to point knowingly, like it’s common sense when he says, "left hand is hidden in yer jacket pocket."

You guess he is right, your left hand is tucked away into your coat in the photo, but that's because it's almost winter, and you're human, despite what some may argue.

The photo itself isn't even anything crazy—a candid shot of the two of you walking to the car. Atsumu's hand is on your back, seemingly guiding you as you walk along the curb. Your right hand rests on your purse, and your left apparently hides a flashy diamond ring in the suede of your pocket.

Atsumu hears you scoff at the stupidity, "So naturally that means I'm your wife now?"

He smiles and scratches your head with loving fingers.

"Yup," he pops the last part of the word before looking over to you with a grin. "Apparently the rock was so big, it had to be hidden in fear of blindin' the paparazzi."

He’s teasing, it’s lighthearted, but your eyes don't leave the photo when you softly furrow your brow.

"Why do they keep assuming we're engaged?" you lowly mumble, to him or yourself, Atsumu doesn't know, but he hears it all the same. Your voice almost wavers when you weakly exhale, "This is like the fourth time."

Carefully, as if you’re suddenly made of glass, Atsumu pulls the phone from your grasp, and you don't put up a fight when he easily swipes it and shimmies it back into his pocket.

"Dunno baby,” his voice whispers as his hand finds your shoulder. “People like to talk. I can't even begin to name the craziest rumors I've heard about me."

You hum to let him know you're listening, but when you don't elaborate much more than that, Atsumu knows something isn't quite right.

Not one to let his thoughts spiral, he thinks for all about two seconds before deciding that he’s getting to the bottom of this.

He tries to act like a normal person, stretching his arms and casually asking, "Does it bother you or somethin’?"

You're quiet for a moment like you're thinking extra hard about what to say. And when you do take a deep inhale and open your mouth, Atsumu feels a bit queasy.

"In a way," is all you allow to come out.

In a way? Atsumu doesn't know what to do with that. That could mean a million things. In what way? A good one? A terrible one? A way that makes you mad at him, at the world, at yourself? He needs more from you, but he’s too afraid to ask. 

You think a part of you breaks when his big brown eyes water a bit, but the tears are quickly blinked away through long lashes when he shakes his head.

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt that way."

You shift to sit up on your knees a bit, gently touching his jaw that's clenched to the touch. "Hey, hey no,” you watch him tilt his sour face away from you when you coo, “Not like that, don't apologize."

With the slightest pressure on his cheek, you're able to get him to face you again, where you're met with a grouchy pout and some slight hostility. 

You feel his jaw twitch and unclench when you place a delicate kiss on the carved bone. Your voice is soft, cautious when it rises to elaborate.

"People thinking we're married isn't what bothers me," you gently breathe. "We've talked about it, right? We're just not ready yet."

True, he thinks, logic returning to his clouded thoughts. Atsumu nods at your words, though his eyebrows are still downturned with stress.

"Right. So what does bother ya about it?"

He watches you open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find the right way to say the right words, but there really isn't a tailored combination for the sticky conversation at hand. He almost thinks you give up until your hand tenderly rubs his stiff neck and your voice comes out barely a whisper.

"It can be tough sometimes," your voice wavers with uncertainty, "y'know, being a woman associated with someone like you."

Atsumu turns his head to you in confusion, but he doesn't say anything. Because he trusts you—he might not understand, but he trusts that you do, that you're aware of something he might not be, and that you can explain it in a way he might be able to grasp.

He watches you shy in the slightest, struggling in silence with your tongue.

"I'm either slut shamed for being someone just fucking you or written off as your property. There's never really an in-between, y’know?" you choose to shrug. 

Atsumu shoots you a sympathetic tight-lipped smile because though he'd never agree, he's not stupid. He knows what people can say about you, sees the headlines and hashtags every now and then.

"Y'know," his voice comes uncharacteristically soft, "one time I read that I flunked out of high school."

Your eyebrows raise at the turn in conversation, "Did you?"

"No," he scoffs. "Wasn't a nerd or anythin' but I graduated like everybody else."

You hum in thought at his confession, but it doesn’t seem to get his point across so he continues. "One said I was on steroids, another said pills."

He takes a small amount of pride in the way your frown slightly quirks up at the corners.

"Please,” you huff out a breathy scoff, “you pout like a baby when you get your blood drawn and can barely keep up with your daily vitamins."

He fights off a smile, ignoring the teasing and resting his head on yours as he goes on.

"My favorite was that one theory that me and 'Samu switch lives regularly. Sometimes when I look a little pudgy, they claim it's him with bleached hair, so we can both live out the Olympic dream."

You actually laugh at that, a real one, and Astumu thinks the sound itself could make flowers bloom and storm clouds disperse.

"Well that one can't be true, you can't cook for shit," he hears you mumble against his neck. 

"Hey now," he gently smacks your thigh at your fresh words. "The point is that people say things all the damn time and I know it's not really the same as what they say about you, but..."

His tongue falters at the touchy subject, a hill he knows he’ll never conquer but is willing to die trying to defend you on.

He thinks for a moment before saying with certainty, "But we both know what's true and what isn't, right?"

You angle your neck to look up at him with sarcasm. "And what's true? That you're a healthy high school graduate with a twin brother who doesn't play Parent Trap with you?"

"What's true," he whines a bit, flicking your forehead before placing a small kiss on it, "is that I love you, and I'm absolutely marryin' you, just when the time is right."

You melt, both at his touch and his words, and for once in his life, Atsumu knows he's said the right thing when he feels you lean onto him a bit more. He takes on the comfortable weight like an Olympic medal, one he’d proudly wear everywhere if he could.

And as Atsumu goes on and on, your night gets that much better, and the silly rumor from some stupid tabloid doesn’t seem nearly as important as it did when you first got home.

"And yer ring is gonna be bigger than whatever the paparazzi imagined. And they'll be pissed when they find out we eloped and they missed the ceremony pics. And when we actually trend on Twitter for the right reason—"

[yenonnoff]

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE!

atsumu miya x fem!reader

⌒☆ synopsis : when y/n l/n, a rising actress, decides to star in a romance film that could make or break her career, she’s unable to showcase her skills, revealing her inexperience within the romance department instead. worst of all, atsumu miya, her co-star and the main lead’s love interest, seems to hate her guts! with absolutely, unbearably zero chemistry between the two, an idea was proposed: spend time with one another in the upcoming weeks. will y/n be able to ignore her professionalism and listen to her heart? and will she, a clueless romantic, be able to pick up on the signs her co-star is sending her?

⌒☆ content: actors/celebrity au, social media au, modern au, enemies (got off on the wrong foot) to friends to lovers, slow burn (sorry 😞), mild angst, fluff, crack/humor

⌒☆ warnings: she/her pronouns used, contains swearing, mentions alcohol/alcohol consumption

⌒☆ status: on-going (07/18/23)

🎬 chapter names may change as the story progresses + unless stated differently, ignore all timestamps

🎬🎧 — playlist

STARRING:

｡ｏ♡ HOT dummies // mentally sane + atsumu ig? ｡ｏ♡

( minor chars! )

LIGHTS:

01. vengeance (like batman)

02. vroom vroom! im here (��୧)

03. wtf is love

04. sweet dreams (or not)

05. hi, mr. charismatic

06. give me a break (୨୧)

07. morning madness

08. you ruined my coffee with your scowl (୨୧)

09. emergency conference meeting!

10. strangers (?) at an amusement park (୨୧)

11. perhaps a malfunction?

12. a mistake, 100% a mistake

13. your words

14. message sent, message received

15. tolerate! tolerate! tolerate!

16. me, you, and a beautiful sunset (୨୧)

CAMERA:

17. snap out of it!

18. brewing up a storm

19. do not disturb

20. conversation over coffee

21. cat chase (୨୧)

22. 2 people, 1 truth (୨୧)

23. tba

ACTION:

...

a/n: hi!! this is my first ever smau + my first time posting on tumblr so pls be patient if smth looks off (and if smth does, pls kindly inform me!!). i want to thank @idlerin for inspiring me to make this, so many thanks to syl!! u should check out her smaus and other works, theyre all amazing!! asides from that, i want to give the fattest biggest thanks to my best friend may (@kqbukimono) for putting up w/ my spontaneous questions and for giving the best advice ever (ure the best ig 😜). she also helped me choose the title! ok im being too nice, he might make fun of me. thank u so much to everyone who is planning on reading my smau!

taglist is open! dm or ask to be a part of it!

[wttcsms]

sweet everything, atsumu miya ; one shot collection

SWEET EVERYTHING┆this just in: maybe he can be fixed. atsumu miya used to make news as a longtime bachelor who considered marriage to be "settling down" and as someone who prides himself on "never settling", it's clear the only ring he cares about comes from a championship. barely seven years after this iconic interview, atsumu miya walks away from professional volleyball as a devoted husband and father to the most adorable little toddlers who test his stamina as he chases after them.

a collection of inter-connected (mostly fluffy) one shots and drabbles centered around husband/dad!atsumu, maintaining the honeymoon phase of marriage, and the family antics that occur when his children inherit his wild, brash nature <3

triple trouble┆before his early retirement from the game, new dad atsumu steals every reporters' attention as he shows the world his triplets during a post-game conference; only, it's really his babies that have everyone so entertained.

number one┆atsumu's always reassured you that he doesn't mind leaving behind his professional career to spend more time with the family, but the media gets to him. his creeping doubt and feelings of regret only amplify when he walks into his office to see that his sons have accidentally destroyed his trophy case, all his awards and plaques dented, ruined, or shattered into pieces on the floor. — coming soon!

my heart hits rewind┆noted as one of the longest standing (and healthy) relationships in celebrity circles, people online always speculate on how you and atsumu are still so in love with each other, especially after having kids that are constantly vying for your attention. alternatively: 5 times you and atsumu try get some alone time + the 1 time you two finally get a date night. — coming soon!

honeymoon fades┆you and atsumu celebrate your wedding anniversary (nsfw). — coming soon!

i want your dreary mondays┆before the marriage and your kids, it's just you and atsumu trying to figure things out. or: atsumu realizes he wants to spend his whole life with you and does everything in his power to convince you to stay by his side (even though you never really did need much convincing). (nsfw) — coming soon!

author's note a little throwback to my bleedinqhearts days lol!!! i hope you all miss dad!atsumu as much as i did <3

fan art inspired by the fics (from my old blog <3) triplets ami & atsumu

[heich0e]

the hunt - frat boy!atsumu/f!reader (haikyuu!) tags: not NSFW but not NOT NSFW if that makes sense, inspired by this art by @/hlxtn, mentions of alcohol, typical frat party debauchery, college!au, greek system!au, reader is in a sorority, atsumu has a lip piercing and is a whore, making out, heavy petting, graphic depictions of graphic depictions, gratuitous headboard knocking, this atsumu makes me want to scream, word count 3k

The brief is simple: a scavenger hunt of sorts. 

It’s just a bit of friendly competition between you and your fellow sorority sisters, not unusual for the chapter president and the upper ranking sisters to orchestrate. At 8:00PM on the dot, everyone received a joint text message with a list of items to retrieve or tasks to complete to earn points—for tasks without a physical trophy, a simple photo as proof would do the trick—and once the clock strikes midnight, the participants who've managed to scavenge the most points would be the winners, and those with the lowest points would face a forfeit.

And finally, throughout the night there would be bonus points come up for grabs in the form of special challenges.

Like the one currently lighting up the screen of your phone. 

(11:00PM) INZ hookup - 100 points for a pledge, 500 points for pres, 250 points for everyone else. (11:00PM) Current ranking: 12/25. 1 hour remaining.

“How far are we from the Iota house?” you ask, leaning forward against the restraint of your seatbelt and gripping the headrest of the drivers seat in front of you.

“A couple blocks,” your friend (and fellow sorority sister) behind the wheel says in confusion, “why?”

You and a few of your closest friends had wandered out that night to amass points together. You were all doing pretty well, but according to the rankings that are sent out every half hour, none of you have even broken the top 10. 

And now there's only an hour left.

“Go there next,” you say decisively. 

“Are you nuts?” another sister smushed into the backseat with you squeaks, “hooking up with an Iota is…”

Practically a death sentence. At least socially. You all know it. 

To call the boys of the INZ frat run-through would be a disservice to the word. Their reputation among the other greeks is NOT one to be trifled with. The boys themselves, beyond being philandering, are more than a little rough around the edges. They’re known for starting fights (and finishing them) and save for their chapter president Kita, and a few standouts among the brothers, they’re not generally considered the shining gold standard of Greek Life. The Iotas are the direct cause of more than a few of the sanctions your university has imposed on the Greek system in recent years, even against Kita's best efforts to keep them in line. 

But still, that many points may just be too gleaming of an opportunity for you to pass up. 

There’s a party in full swing when you pull up to the INZ house, because it's a Friday night so of course there is.

“Do you see anyone else here?” you ask your friends as you step into the fray, raising your voice to be heard over the pulsating music rattling through the house. You’re all wearing shirts with your sorority’s greek letters on them, so any fellow sisters should be easy to spot, though you can’t make any out from where you stand near the door.

“No,” one of your friends says, pressing close to your back to avoid being run over by a few passing partygoers chasing after someone in a hoodie with a quart of rum tucked under his arm. “Hey, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Of course it’s not. But the last time you lost one of these little challenges you were stuck vacuuming the entire sorority house for two months, and you weren’t eager to experience it again. 

“How much time is left?” you ask, pulling your cellphone from your pocket. 

11:12 your screen reads.

“Around 45 minutes,” your friend confirms what you know to be true once you see the time on your screen. Your eyes scan the party, landing on a figure on the edge of the crowd in an INZ hoodie with a red solo cup in his hands.

And a terrible, horrible, perfect idea comes to mind. 

You unlock your phone.

'Claiming this task!' you type as you cross the party, leaving your friends behind. 

The President replies immediately to your claim.

(11:15PM) Which Iota? 

You send your answer without a second thought.

The boy in the INZ hoodie doesn’t see you coming as you sidle up beside him, so when you put a hand on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and crane up on your tiptoes to get close to his ear he stiffens slightly in surprise. 

“Hi,” you say into his ear to be heard over the music blaring through the crowded house, your fingers twisting into the material of his sleeve, “you don’t know me, but I really need a favour.”

And that’s how you end up in Atsumu Miya’s bedroom in the Iota Nu Zeta frat house, standing on he opposite side of the room as he sits perched on the edge of his bed.

“Yer tellin’ me ya want me to pretend to fuck ya?” he asks, a brow quirked under the band of his backwards cap. “All fer some… bet?”

“It’s not a bet,” you correct him (not for the first time), “it’s a scavenger hunt.”

“And I’m the thing yer huntin’?” he's teasing you now, and you know it. 

“It doesn’t have to be you,” you huff, your lips pursing, “and if you’re gonna keep wasting my time I can go ask—“

“Now wait a minute,” he interrupts you before you can even dangle the threat before him, “now that I know yer trying to cheat the system, whose t’say I don’t send a text of my own to that pretty little president of yours and tell her what yer schemin’?” 

“You wouldn’t,” you say, your nose crinkling up in irritation. 

Atsumu grins, and the piercing on his bottom lip catches in the light of the lamp that sits on the table between the two twin XL beds in the tiny, untidy room. You assume he shares it with his twin brother, though you really don’t have much to base that assumption other than the fact you know he has one. The room is a bit neater on the side Atsumu is not sitting on, so you infer that Osamu is also the tidier twin between the two of them. 

“Nah, I wouldn’t,” he laughs, “I kinda like seein’ ya play dirty.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You guys always seem so…” Atsumu goes on, waving his hand in the air vaguely. 

“Rule-abiding?” you offer. 

“Stuck up,” he corrects you. 

He’s not necessarily wrong for thinking it, even if it does irk you. Your sisterhood is one of the more reserved greek chapters on campus—elite even, if you dared to say it. Sure, the scavenger hunt you find yourself partaking in that evening might not seem it, but the fact of the matter is that you guys aren’t inherently morally superior to any of the other greek houses - you’re just better at not getting caught. 

Something that seems utterly beyond the Iota brothers. 

Which is exactly why you need it to be him.

“Are you gonna help me or not?” you finally ask, sighing warily. 

“What’s in it for me?” Atsumu counters your appeal. 

“I’ll give you all my precal notes ahead of the midterm next week.”

Atsumu furrows his brow. “We’re in the same precal class?” he asks. 

Your expression flattens. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” you grit out, “which you might know if you didn’t spend every class napping.”

“Wait…”—he purses his lips, eyes scanning over your face—“we have a midterm next week?” 

You feel something throb palpably behind your eyes. 

“Yes,” you manage to get out even though your jaw is clenched firmly shut. "God you're hopeless."

"Yer awfully rude for someone who's tryin' to use me fer my body," Atsumu says, smirking when he sees the way your expression shifts into one of even further annoyance at his taunt. He leans back on his bed, resting his weight on his elbows. “So, what do I have to do here?”

“Just… take your shirt off and take a picture with me in bed with you,” you say, though it physically pains you to say the words. To have to stoop so low.

He quirks a brow mischievously. “Oh, ’s that all?”

“And keep your hands to yourself,” you tack on pointedly.

Atsumu snorts, lifting his hands in innocence.

“You got it, princess.”

Just as Atsumu shifts his weight forward, and his hand reaches behind his neck to grab at the collar of his hoodie, your cellphone jingles. 

You reach for it, and see that it’s a message from the sorority president. You unlock the device to reveal the message.

It’s a picture of a door.

The very door you presently find yourself behind.

Another message pops up in the chat.

(11:29) Recruited a bit of backup! You’ve got a little crowd waiting for proof, just to be safe ;)

And then another.

(11:30) Current ranking: 15/25. 30 minutes remaining.

“Fuck,” you mutter, miserable at the turn of events - and your drop in the rankings.

“What’s wrong?” Atsumu asks. 

“There are people out there…” your voice drops quieter, your eyes flickering over to the door on the other side of the room. “Waiting for… proof.”

The information seems to process slowly in Atsumu’s brain, and his eyes widen as the facts click into place. 

“Ohhh…” he trails off. “They want a real show, huh?” 

“Sorry for dragging you into this,” you sigh, “it was stupid, just forget I-“ 

Atsumu catches your wrist in his hand, tugging you forward before you can step away towards the door in defeat. You peer down at him as you stand between his parted thighs, confused.

“I never said I couldn’t give ‘em one.”

Your face flushes.

“Don’t be stu-“

“I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he says, letting his grip on your wrist fall, “we just gotta get a bit more… creative about it ’s all.”

You chew on the corner of your lip. 

You really hate vacuuming. 

“Alright,” you muster your resolve, offering him your hand for a handshake.

“And ya owe me all your notes right up until the final,” Atsumu tacks on, just before he clasps your hand in his. 

You huff, closing the distance between your palms and taking his hand in a shake. You can’t help but notice how much larger his hand is than yours. 

“Fine, whatever.”

Atsumu is… frighteningly good at putting on a show. 

He turns out the lamp on his bedside table so there’s no light peeking out from the crack under the door, he turns on music like he’s trying (and failing) to drown out any possible noise that might make it out, and he rocks his sturdy bed frame into the wall in a steady, unmistakable rhythm. 

“Hey,” he grunts out on a particularly hard knock of the wooden frame against the wall, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Ya gotta make some noise, y’know. Yer gonna ruin my rep.”

“What do you mean?” you whisper back, still standing frozen just beside the bed, more than a little awkwardly. 

“Y’know, moan or whatever,” he hisses back. 

“I can’t do that!” you snap.

“Yeah fuckin’ right,” he mutters, and you have half a mind to smack him. But before you have the chance to, a strong arm circles your waist and pulls you down. 

You squeak in fright. “Atsumu!”

He has you pinned underneath his body before you know it, practically nose to nose with him, his hands returning to their place on the headboard to give it another knock against the wall. 

Your eyes have adjusted to the dimness in the room since he turned out the lamp, and you can make out his features even though it’s dark. He’s smirking, that little silver hoop at the edge of his lip caught between his teeth. 

“There ya go,” he snickers, “just like that.”

“You told me you’d keep your hands to yourself,” you mutter lowly.

“Sacrifices must be made,” he shrugs, and gives the headboard another loud, incriminating knock. 

It��s preposterous the situation you find yourself in, pinned underneath Atsumu god damn Miya of all people. Pretending to fuck him. 

How the hell did you end up here?

“Ow,” you complain quietly when a particularly rough knock makes the back of your head hit the headboard. 

“Shit, sorry,” Atsumu mutters. He slides an arm underneath your back. “Here.”

He grunts, flipping the two of you over so you’re straddling his waist and he’s the one against the headboard in his tiny little bed. His baseball cap falls off in the scuffle, leaving the strands of his blonde hair loose. 

“’S that better?” he asks. 

It’s not actually, because this feels a hell of a lot more compromising than it had a second before. 

“Ya just gotta push against the headboard like this,”—he takes your hands in his, guiding them up over his shoulders to grip the wooden bed frame, pressing them back until it knocks into the wall—“see?”

“Okay,” you murmur, still a little dazed from the sudden role reversal, repeating the motion. 

You go slower than he had as you get the hang of it, distracted by how close his face is to yours. How you can feel his breath against your mouth. 

It smells like spearmint gum and cheap beer. 

You lick your lips. 

“This more the pace you like?” Atsumu asks, smiling crookedly as he remarks on the tempo you’ve set, his hands settling on your waist. 

“Watch your hands,” you snap quietly, and his touch retreats as you stretch back as far as you can from him without losing your grip on the headboard. 

“You’re still bein’ pretty quiet,” Atsumu comments. “You really gonna make me do everything?” 

“What do you-“

“Ohhhh, fuck.”

Atsumu’s moan is so loud that it startles you, and you let go of the headboard to slap your hand over his mouth in surprise. He grunts a little as you pitch forward, your palm muffling the sound. 

“You tryin’ to win this thing or not?” he asks you pointedly once you pull your hand away. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, acutely aware of the fact you can feel the slickness of spit on your palm, “you just… surprised me.”

He hums. 

“I’d say we’ve probably sold it at this point anyway,” he says with a little sigh. “As long as we go back out there lookin’ a bit scruffy, no one’ll know.”

You chew on the inside of your mouth as you mull over his words. 

“What?” he asks, noticing your hesitation.

You swallow, reaching up and touching the side of your neck. 

“You should give me a hickey.”

Atsumu’s eyes go as wide as saucers. 

“Yer jokin’.”

You shake your head. “It’s like… incontrovertible proof right? It’s not like I could give myself one.”

His eyes search your face for any sign of deception. 

“Ya don’t seem like the type who’d let someone mark ya.”

“I’m not,” you say, suppressing a shiver as his pointer finger loops under the neckline of your t-shirt, tugging it gently to the side. “You seem like the type to leave marks, though.”

Atsumu leans forward and chuckles, his breath is warm against your throat.

“Yeah, guess I am.”

Atsumu’s mouth is hot as it descends upon your pulse point, lips closing around the skin.

“Oh,” you gasp, your hands tangling in the blonde’s hair without thinking as he sucks at the sensitive part of your neck. His own hands have settled on your waist, and this time you don’t tell him to remove them.

“Atsumu,” you whimper as his teeth scrape over the skin he’s been suckling against, making you dizzy.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs into your throat, his hands slipping up under the hem of your t-shirt where his fingertips meet skin.

You don’t say anything.

Atsumu flips you over, and this time there’s nothing deceptive about the way the headboard knocks into the wall. 

His hands are still up your shirt, his lips still on your neck, and your legs wrap themselves around his waist as you writhe against his bedsheets. 

“D’ya know why,”—Atsumu interrupts himself to drag his teeth along the edge of your jaw—“I was so shocked we’re in the same class?”

You shake your head minutely, your fingers twisted into the material of his hoodie over his chest. You watch his lips part in a smile, eyes fixed to that little piercing again.

“Because I’ve had a crush on ya since first year,” he murmurs, “and if I’d known ya were there, then I wouldn’t of been nappin’.”

Atsumu kisses you—finally—and you can’t help the sound that slips out of you at the feeling of his lips slotting against yours.

His mouth tastes like spearmint and beer.

His piercing presses gently into your lips as his part against yours, his tongue slipping forward to taste you too.

His hands grab at anything and everything they can reach. 

Somewhere distantly, you feel you’ve played right into his hand. You recognize that you weren’t the only one who had been scheming tonight.

On Atsumu’s floor, your discarded cellphone lights up with yet another missed message. 

(11:45PM) Proof received +250 points

(11:46PM) No idea you had it in you LOL

(12:00AM) Final ranking: 2nd place

You don’t see the texts until much, much later.

[moechies]

first time w ‘tsumu - nii ♡ cw dark content inst

“n-nii nii , please— g-gentler..”

“nii nii’s goin’ as gently as he can princess. y’can’t even take this much ?”

“hic—“

“knew you weren’t ready f’this baby.”

it’s not like he could pull away from you if he wanted to. he was held in close by your fluttering cunt , and the tight wrap of your arms around his broad shoulders.

“n-no ! p-please , don’t! i— i can take it, okay? just wait.!”

you huff, he lets out an endearing chuckle at your attempt to please him. he glides his thumb over the prominent bulge of your stomach, causing you to flinch against his touch.

“okay sis, if y’say so. we’ll go slow okay?”

“hnn—“

“good sis, taking it s’well. just like how i taught you with my fingers ?”

“hah..! y-yes!”

he reaches his thumbs below to spread the chubby folds of your cunt, taking interest in your throbbing pussy forcibly taking more than you can take. your clit visibly throbs with neglect, which he takes notice of; spitting a dallop below as his finger soothes over to relieve of some tension.

“nii nii—‘s good, wan’ed you so much, for such a long t-time nii nii.”

you confess , not able to reciprocate what you had just admit to your eldest sibling.

“y’have me princess. ‘s it not enough f’you?”

“i-it is ..! just mean, ‘m so happy..” you look up into him with glassy eyes and a dopey smile, soon to be wiped off your face as he slots his tongue inside your mouth. it’s dirty, and raw, and he loves it, he loves you.

“such a sweet sis. couldn’t ask for any better.”

[lowkeyremi]

HE'S TROUBLE - All Chapters Atsumu x fem!reader

✧ Summary: Starting fresh is never that easy and here you are starting a new school year as a freshman in college. Frat boy Atsumu is determined to make your life all the harder, because why the hell not? Will you make it to the end of your first year without losing your shit?

✧ Content: Implied black female reader but anyone can read (reader wears a scarf/bonnet to bed), fluff at times, alcohol consumption (not of reader), suggestive (mentions of sexual content and whatnot), swearing, Atsumu can’t take no for an answer, fighting (Atsumu punches someone), the Miya twins have a little sister, cheating, all in all Atsumu is ultimately a sweetheart. (divider)

ONE - MOVING IN

TWO - FRAT PARTY... COUNT ME OUT

THREE - KISS AND TELL

FOUR - VOLLEYBALL GAME

FIVE - FUCK EXAMS

SIX - LUNCH DATE

SEVEN - MOUNTAIN TRIP

EIGHT - YOUR MAN CAN'T FIGHT

NINE - ANOTHER CHANCE?

TEN - BE MINE?

ELEVEN - THE END IS NEAR

TWELVE - YOU'VE MADE IT

✧ BONUS CHAPTERS ✧

THIRTEEN - GOING HOME

FOURTEEN - MAMA LOVES YOU

[kairiscorner]

y'all cannot tell me atsumu isn't the type to start teasing and flirting with you in the dark when you two are watching a movie.

he already loves showing you off in public and getting handsy with you, well, as much as you'll allow him to be. he gets clingy easily, though he prefers to tease you first before indulging you in his sweet, yet provocative, loving.

he isn't really much of a movie person, he likes being in a dark cinema close to you, though. the ambience of being close by you, sharing a tub of popcorn with you–having an excuse to brush his hand against yours, to have an excuse to wrap his arms around you, move closer to you to ask you questions about the movie every now and then just to get an inch closer so he could kiss your cheek... it makes atsumu feel just a little bit braver.

atsumu loves putting his wide palms over the back of your hand, on your thighs–giving them a little squeeze, and on your farther shoulder so he can be closer to you. he doesn't really flip the arm of his seat down, he loves having a kind of tiny couch between you two; makes it all the more easier to cuddle up with you as the movie plays, even though his attention is elsewhere... on you.

how to make him melt? simple–you lean against his shoulder and kiss that sweet spot by his jawline and neck, he'll be putty in your hands and squeezing you tighter, pulling you closer to him, and nuzzling your neck in no time as the blush creeps on his cheek and a sweet smile forms on his face.

your romance is just like in the movies... but a little more playful and subtle, and you both love it like that.

[kairismess]

just let him adore you. — atsumu miya x reader

🎧 song inspo: adore you by harry styles.

🏐 genre: fluffiness with a good brew of coffee ~

✒️ word count: 1,006

💭 summary: atsumu could never move on from the one who made his heart skip a beat at first glance, he held you in his heart, even after six years, for him to grab this very opportunity to tell you how he really feels.

🍥 author's note: time to spread the harry styles agenda (i'm so late to the party)

it was one sunny morning at the local cafe atsumu frequented, there was nothing out of the ordinary that day–just the same, average routine for the pro volleyball player, when he wasn't being noticed in public, that is. he was surprisingly very good at being lowkey, especially at the one place he found the most relaxation at.

on that day, that day when the light, feathery clouds let the sun's warm rays seem through it–he was greeted by the voice of someone who sounded familiar by the counter. he turned his head to see his old classmate from high school, smiling up at him, wearing that usually mundane, boring uniform of the cafe, that looked a thousand times prettier now that you were wearing it.

he's cheeks went flushed without him realizing it, and his honey colored pupils dilated as his lips parted, his mouth hung a little open. he tried to compose himself after you called out to him again, smiling still, and he shook his head, coughing a bit. "ah, yeah, um... can i get a, uh..." he stammered, unsure now of what his usual even was anymore because: one, you didn't usually take his order–and two, it was you who was going to take his order.

you, the exchange student that ended up in his class and brightened his uneventful days up with the small hint of your smile–you, who sat next to him in class and beat him to greeting you first–you, whose pretty strawberry lipstick always made your lips shine and appear glossier, and always had a sort of colorful way of looking at and doing things.

with you, atsumu always felt like he was in a rainbow state of paradise. but today, unfortunately, it felt like today he was stuck at one end of the rainbow spectrum at a time, since... you probably didn't recognize him–and, even if you did, he wasn't sure if you'd even remember him.

well, no harm in starting over again, he thought to himself as he finally got his order out to you and you went right to work at punching his order in and making it. atsumu really felt like his usual today would be a lot more flavorful than his ordinary 'usual', because today, the first person to ever make his heart beat a tiny bit more was going to make it.

"so... ya been 'ere long?" he asked you with a partially confident smile as he watched you brew his drink. you chuckled and responded that, no, you hadn't been working here for long–you'd barely been here for a month, actually. atsumu nodded as he watched you pour in the rest of the contents of his drink, mixing them up into a beautiful slurry of shades and lights. "for a rookie, y'sure are great at this whole coffee makin' thing." you smiled at his compliment. "and... you sure are nice, mister." you complimented him back, making him blush and smile wider.

atsumu snickered as he leaned over on the counter as he watched you cover his drink and began to write his order down. "alright, um, your name, sir?" "you first." he teases, grinning sneakily, making you laugh a little at how smooth he was. you pointed to your name tag and giggled. "right here." "i know, but... there's somethin' real pretty about ya and yer name, i wanna hear what it's like for ya to introduce yerself ta me, if it ain't too much ta ask for." he admitted, blushing a little as his eyes shone even more staring up at you with a wide smile on his blushing face.

you gave in and introduced yourself to him, and atsumu repeated your name, as if to take in the fact that, indeed, you were the one that made his heart patter all those six years ago–with the same way you carried yourself and said your name, how your eyes gleamed with a darling innocence and brightness to them, and how you always seemed to catch his heartstrings and squeeze his heart in all the right places to make him love you so, so much more the more you two talked and casually spent time together.

"alright, well... tsum." "tsum?" you asked him, feeling as though you've heard that name before, somewhere in a chapter of your past that you could kind of but not wholly remember. atsumu nodded. "spell it however ya want, i ain't that uptight 'bout it." he spoke, trusting you that you'd remember him well enough, even just barely, to spell his name the way you always did–because you gave him that nickname, 'tsum', and he grew to love it ever since, because... you gave him that name when you two became friends.

"this may be strange, tsum, but... i feel like i know you from somewhere." you confessed, feeling a bit awkward and shy. atsumu chuckled and thanked you for the drink, his long, calloused fingers brushing against your own when he received the drink. "well... so do i, actually." "really?" "i think... i've seen ya in m'dreams before." he teased, which was semi-true, he had occasionally dreamt of you here and there after graduation, wondering if you two would ever meet again.

it surprised him how calm he was, seeing the first person he ever truly loved right before him–and though he was always confused about what exactly he felt about you back then since he was so young and unsure... he knows how he really feels now, and he couldn't be any happier to feel it again and see you, be with you in the very cafe he loved visiting.

he doesn't mind how long it takes, he doesn't need you to love him, you don't have to say anything to fill the silence with him or say you're his when you two are starting out again–he'd gladly walk through fire for you, he'd do any and everything for you... just let him adore you. it's all he'll ever do, and all he's ever done.

[nova-amor]

whatever miya atsumu set his mind to, he wouldn't stop until he was 100% satisfied with the final result. regardless of whether it was practicing his serves or setting a new weightlifting personal record, atsumu was always determined to succeed.

so, it shouldn't come as a surprise that after challenging him to see who could last longer during sex, that atsumu would take it personally. he had cleared off his weekend schedule— canceling any plans and appointments that he had made to have an open schedule set aside just for you.

he had even set up a mini scoreboard on your nightstand, keeping an official record of how many orgasms you gave each other through the weekend. he had made it a serious challenge, determined to prove to you that he was willing to win no matter what.

atsumu planted a fat kiss on your swollen clit, the bud throbbing and sore from the continuous stimulation. he peered up at you with half-lidded eyes, swiping his tongue over his top lip to clean off the creamy stains of your release from his mouth.

he had been eating you out for what had felt like an eternity, sucking your soul straight out from your overwhelmed cunt. "your thighs are shaking so much," atsumu pointed out, resting his cheek along your inner thigh. he resisted the urge to smile, knowing how exhausted you were based on the way your brows furrowed and chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

"do you need a break? we can stop," your eyes snapped open at his suggestion, any sense of fatigue instantly fleeing. you shuffled your body away from his, his own moving up to sit on the balls of his feet.

"don't wanna stop— wanna keep going," you mumbled, determined to prove yourself. your hands worked quick to wrap themselves around his cock. you were absolutely determined to even out the scores, you weren’t going to lose this challenge. "we aren't stopping until you give up."

atsumu smirked, "m-me? g-give up?" he stuttered, hips bucking to match the pace you had set. you two hadn't even fucked yet— spending the last few hours pleasuring each other with your hands and mouths instead. "h-have you met me? i don't give up."

you returned the smirk, giving his shaft a rough squeeze; he let a groan slip out at the sensation. "well, you know me— i don't either."

[rintarousgirl]

kiss me better, baby - an atsumu miya two-shot

PART TWO - MASTERLIST

a/n: so, i randomly got inspired to write a thing like this, and i recognized that i haven't really written for 'tsumu before, so here i go! i tried doing all lower-case for this just to see how it is, because i feel like people nowadays enjoy a story on tumblr more like that, but on ao3 it needs caps?? idk, you tell me.

synopsis -

you and atsumu had been living together happily after your marriage, but after conflicting work schedules and bottled-up feelings, the two of you break into a heated argument. now, it's up to the two of you to mend it, maybe with a kiss? | tags: lack of communication, angst, making up, hurt/comfort, toxic relationship.

you married atsumu knowing, he was frustrating. you knew there would be up's and downs, and fights, and the regular. that's how marriage worked, and quite honestly, how your husband worked.

you knew by the end of the day, you'd be able to smile at him, embrace him, and give him a soft squeeze and a muffled apology as you dragged him in bed to watch a movie with you after work. everything would be alright, that's how things worked.

the two of you never got too worked up over apologies. you recognized that you did something wrong and made up for it with touch rather than words. that was what worked for you and him, and it saved atsumu the embarrassment of a wounded pride.

your friends had always told you that communication was key, and you knew that was true. you knew stating boundaries and expressing your emotions was right in a relationship and the best direction for a healthy bond between two people but...atsumu and you were different. you both had big prides and egos, and even if you were pissed off at day all of that seemed to melt away by the time night fell.

up until recently that is.

atsumu was obsessed with volleyball, you knew that much. it was his life, his career. everyone in his family had played it at some point, but they'd known when to give it up and pursue a career that lasted or one they were more passionate about. personally, you viewed as some passed down tradition, and you knew osamu broke out of it as soon as possible.

and just as reasonably you knew your own child would probably play volleyball to some extent. but that was exactly it. eventually, everyone got older, and their bodies couldn't keep up anymore, or they lost their passion with the sport that they held when they were young. atsumu wasn't like that. every game you still found that competitive spark in his eye, the same spark you fell in love with all those years ago.

but now you could only sigh, watching from the sidelines, phone dangling from your fingertips and your wedding band burning against your skin. was this the life you wanted to live? demoted to some trophy-spouse? no, it wasn't. you wanted your husband back.

atsumu began to stay later at practices, and left earlier in the morning too. when did come back, he'd drop his bag in the foyer, take a quick shower, and collapse in bed. you knew he was tired, and that he worked hard, but he was asleep before you could even say goodnight.

often times, you kind of had to chase him to bed. it would be around nine when he got back, dinner sizzling on the table from where you'd kindly reheated it for him. he presses a quick kiss to your lips, at least acknowledging your existence, and then run for the bathroom.

it was horrible, almost humiliating, even. by the time you had everything cleaned up, his dinner wrapped in plastic and placed in the fridge for him to pick at the next day, he was half-asleep in bed. you'd give his shoulder a comforting squeeze, brush the blonde hair from his eyes, and whisper a soft goodnight before leaving for the living room to watch your nightly television.

and even when he wasn't at practice, he was always doing something. whether it be an interview, or helping out at osamu's shop, or mentoring or watching other teams practices. sometimes, he'd hole himself up in the garage where you'd set up a homemade gym. this had nothing to mention the fact you had work to, a simple quiet office job where you filed papers, typed in numbers, and picked up calls.

it wasn't much, but it paid good money.

so, in the lucky times when you were both home, contact was limited to breakfast and lunch which even then your mouths were full and there wasn't much for you to talk about. the only thing that came out of his mouth were, "volleyball", "see you later," and an occasional, "love you!" without the "I".

somewhere along the line, you came to the conclusion of, well if i barely see him anyway what's the harm in picking up some extra shift for some more money? it wasn't like the two of you weren't comfortable. honestly, you both could live smoothly off atsumu's salary alone, but you were never the stay-at-home type.

atsumu had spared a small comment at that. late at night, as you crawled into bed next to him, he circled his arms around your waist and muttered, "you worked later today," into the soft flesh of your shoulder. you gave a small hum, feeling something bubble in your throat contracting your words.

you didn't have to work, but it was kind of satisfying nonetheless to have him hold onto you because you cut off an extra hour of time you had together. revenge was petty, you knew that, but you were tired of being on the receiving end of missed calls and empty sheets in bed.

his thumb had rubbed small circles on top of your hipbone, and you could feel his mouth twist into a frown. "you don't have to...did the cut your check or something?"

"no," you said into the quiet, "i just felt like it, that's all."

he sighed and buried his head into your neck. you felt yourself smiling despite it all, and he held you a little bit tighter the next few nights.

though, eventually, everything blew up in both of your faces. that night, when atsumu came home you hadn't bothered to reheat his dinner or make dinner at all actually. as you heard the front door shut and then lock, your stomach rumbled, having skipped it as well.

despite it all, you didn't have an appetite. not when you felt nauseous with your anger. you were tired of only seeing glimpses of your husband. hell, shoyo saw him more than you did in a week, maybe even a month.

you couldn't keep living like this. alone, and secluded, the barest hints of comfort coming from his touch. you knew he loved his job, and you wouldn't tell him not to. you just...wished he loved you as much as he loved the stupid game.

you missed your husband, your atsumu. those boyish grins he would give you and chaste morning kisses before he ran out the door. you missed when he would come home right in time for dinner and the two of you could sit down and talk and laugh about your days.

this time though, you didn't hear the sound of the water but instead his soft voice calling out into the silence of the house. usually you had the television on, or music playing when he came home to fill your head with something other than your own thoughts. now though? it was only the sound of his footsteps and your heavy breathing.

the door creaked open, his shadow spilling into the room. you hugged your knees to your chest, looking to the window beside the bed. atsumu walked in, sweat clinging to his skin and his lip caught between his teeth. "baby?" he asks, stepping further into the room, "are you alright?" he reaches forward, pressing the back of his hand to your head to check your temperature.

you gently swat away his hand, huffing as you refused to look at him. beside you the bed dips, and he places a hand on your knee. "what's wrong with ya? i'm all ears, y'know. i kinda promised...in sickness and in health and all that."

a lump rose in your throat, and you struggle to swallow around it as your eyes dart to the silver wedding band on his finger. it glints under the lamp light. you didn't have the heart to reach over and grab your own ring out of its box on the bedside table. atsumu hadn't noticed, but it's been there for the past three days.

"you're tired," you end up saying, "you should go to bed...I'm gonna go," you rush to get up, but you only make it so far before his hand jumps out and grabs your wrist and pulls you back.

he stands with you, pulling you close, still holding onto your wrist. "c'mon now, tell me what's wrong. you're worrying me, y/n," he admits softly, and you half-heartedly tug your hand out of his grip.

"it's nothing," you hiss, glaring at him, "of course you care now."

his shoulders go stiff, and his expression sours a bit. "what are you insinuating?" he mutters, lip curling, "of course i care for you, are ya out of your mind?"

"maybe i am," you grumble, "i'm sure you wouldn't notice then either since you don't seem to give a damn!"

his hands reach up to tug at his hair, before running through it and resting on the back of his head for a second. "i don't get what you're so worked up about. and i won't get it until you tell me!" he shouts, temper rising and patience thinning. well, you could play two at that game.

"oh, get over yourself!" you yell back, "you spend day and night at the stupid gym and i get to sit here all day and rot and wait for you to get back. and guess what? when you do get back it's like i'm talking to a fucking wall!"

he laughs, a little hysterical. "is that what you're upset about? you're upset that i care about my job?" it's so condesencing, and infurating and you just can't anymore. he was a grade-a asshole, and you were done putting up with it.

atsumu was sweet before, he would hold your hand and sway you around to sweet love songs that came on the radio in the kitchen. he's kiss you and laugh at all your jokes, and enjoy your food, and give you all his time. you missed that atsumu. you didn't like this version of him.

"get out," you whisper, hands curling into fists.

"what?" he stammers, a little bit of that anger fleeting from his eyes.

"i said get out!" you scream, shoving him a little. it wasn't enough to knock him off balance, you weren't strong enough for that, but it should've been enough to get your point across.

"you can't be serious," he says with a little huff, a hint of a confident smirk pulling at his lips.

"deadly," you growl, and point to the door, "now out! i don't want to see you tonight, or tomorrow preferably. actually, don't bother coming back from work either!"

you give him another shove, and that gets him to move an inch. you're fortunate that the door is close enough to the bed that after a bit of effort you can get him past the doorframe. he turns around, licking his lips, all that confident aura from earlier gone.

"so you're gonna kick me out? just like that, huh? over something so stupid--"

"honestly, atsumu, if you think this is stupid than you're more of an idiot than i thought. not in a million years had i thought this was the guy i was going to marry, but here we are now."

he stammers to say something, but you're slamming the door, locking it just as quickly. you turn on your heel, but your knees seem to buckle from beneath you.

crumbling down onto the ground, you press up against the back of the door and watch as your world disintegrates around you. your shoulders begin to shake, your lip trembling and eyes spilling over with tears.

the sobs don't begin until you hear the sound of doors slamming as atsumu no doubt packs a bag, and you can hear the metallic clang of the laundry machine door.

your breaths are shaky and wet, and you're choking on them. you don't know how long he's slamming around for, but eventually you can hear the running shower water, and the hallway light flickers off.

the atsumu you knew didn't give up that easily...the atsumu you knew didn't neglect you. the atsumu you knew would've sat on the other side of that door and pleaded to be let in.

and you can't help but wonder what happened? what did you do wrong? what is he hiding from you? an affair? a demotion? something more than that? you didn't know, you weren't sure you wanted to know.

so, for the night, you sat there. shoulders shaking, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, choking on your own spit and sobs. sooner or later, you fell asleep like that, curled up against the door, shirt soaked with your tears and a depression hanging over you like a shield.