Atsumu Miya X Reader - Blog Posts

BACKSEAT GIRL ; Atsumu x f!reader

As if he’s trying to memorize every dip and curve of your body, the shape of your soul. As if he doesn’t mold you like molasses underneath his fingertips, perpetuating his name into your being.

contains: f!reader, friends to lovers vibes, college au, mutual pining, heavily suggestive (hence me not tagging anyone from the gen taglist for this i'm sorry), non-sexual nudity (bathing together), no plot just one thousand words of atsumu miya being touch-starved

word count: 1.3k

You didn’t plan on taking him home.

But the words he murmured against the shell of your ear were a little too sweet and his kisses were a little too hungry; and maybe you’ve also dreamt a little too often about Atsumu Miya nudging your legs apart to slot himself between them while he pushes you against the nearest wall–until it all wasn’t a dream anymore. 

It feels forbidden. As if you’re not supposed to know what it feels like to run your fingers over the shaved part of his neck. Or how his canine teeth graze the skin on the side of your neck, leaving trails of faint red marks. Or the way his muscles flex when you slip your hands underneath his shirt to feel him closer. 

He’s just a guy who sits in front of you in class. Someone who occasionally asks you for a pencil or your notes just so he has a reason to turn around to you, who nudges your feet with his underneath the tables when you push them together for group work, who finds a lame excuse to linger behind when you’re too slow with packing up your bag after class, just so he can walk to the cafeteria together with you. 

Atsumu shouldn’t be here; with his hair still a little damp from the shower and naked from the waist up in your bed, in your arms. He’s like a weighted blanket on top of you, his face hidden in the small space between your neck and your shoulder, his hot breath fanning across your skin. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, giving it a slight tug whenever his shameless fingers dip underneath the waistband of your shorts, followed by an airy laugh against your collarbone. 

Just a kiss, you told yourself earlier in that dark corner you both found yourself in, his broad back shielding you from the eyes of anyone else at the party. It was as if he wanted you just for himself, something so easy to brush off as greedy. But there’s something else luring underneath the surface, underneath the carefully composed mask of brazenness he wears so well. You couldn’t figure out what it was, too dizzy from his kisses and his hands roaming your body, but now in the dim light and quiet of your bedroom you can see it so clearly. 

Atsumu is touch-starved.

It shows. There is his hand on the small of your back when he leads you outside through the crowd of people. His fingers interlaced with yours in the back of the cab after he reached over you to secure your seatbelt for you. The stolen kisses during the elevator ride up to your floor and the scowl on his face when the elevator door opened, interrupting you too soon. Him kneeling in front of you while he helps you out of your heels, nimble fingers brushing over your ankle before loosening the clasp for you. The love-drunk expression he gives you when you grab his chin between two fingers, tilting it up so he’d look at you. 

As if he’d ever take his eyes off you to begin with. 

Not when he unzips the back of your dress till it slips to the floor with a soft thud. Not when you push him towards the bed, his hands catching your hips to pull you on top of him. Not when you unbuckle his belt, his fingers digging in the flesh of thighs, his chest heaving with every breath you draw out of him. 

For someone who has never learned how to shut up in his entire life, Atsumu turns into a needy, whining mess underneath you. All coherent words seem to slip from his mind as badly as his self-composure. It’s like he’s pleading for your touch, to feel more of you, to have you fully, wholly, deeply. His hands grasp every part of you he can reach, sometimes gentle, mostly insatiable, always with utter adoration. As if you’re a dream that’ll crumble between his fingers when he blinks.

You bathe together afterwards–or you try, at least. It’s the night you learn that your bathtub is a little too cramped to hold you and someone of Atsumu’s size, but you make it work somehow with your back pressed against his chest, nestled between his legs, his hand splayed out over your stomach. His idle fingers draw small patterns against your skin and every now and then he leans down to press kisses against your shoulder, a low sound of affection rumbling in his chest when he does. 

He washes your hair for you even though you didn’t ask him to, slender fingers working through every bit of tension in your scalp. Part of you believes he does it just so he can charm out more of these sweet little sounds from you that he seems to love so much, but then he tips your head back to kiss you upside down, smiling against your lips, and you think that maybe you’re not the only one who has fallen in love a long time ago.

Atsumu holds perfectly still when you dry off his hair with a towel. He sits on the edge of the bathtub, legs spread to make room for you standing between them. Looking down, you try hard not to think about how he had you grinding against his thick thighs earlier but to be fair it’s impossible to forget how that made you feel, the pulsing still present. There’s his grin again and your stomach does a little flip. I love having you like this, Atsumu murmurs and tugs you closer to him by your waist before trailing countless kisses up from your stomach to the valley of your chest, honey colored eyes never leaving yours. 

As if he’s trying to memorize every dip and curve of your body, the shape of your soul. As if he doesn’t mold you like molasses underneath his fingertips, perpetuating his name into your being. 

If Atsumu was a braver man he’d tell you all about the way you make his heart stumble. How the thought of you being with anyone else makes his chest coil and tighten. That only you allow him a calmness so unfamiliar it scares him sometimes. But the words are stuck in his throat and just won’t come out.

Not yet. Not when it’s you.

Because with you everything is different. With you his prideful heart unravels so easily, finding shelter in your palms. You give all of his touch a meaning, as if everything before you was just hollow. Golden, he thinks. Your love feels golden. Shining bright like a hundred suns, igniting a flame within him. Atsumu has long fallen for you without even realizing it. He gets it now, sees it so clearly when you smile at him; that it’s you. It’s always been you. 

You both don’t bother getting fully dressed after your bath–there’s this unspoken unanimity that you won’t need these clothes for too long. Atsumu carries you over to the bed despite your protests, your laughter mingling with his when he drops you unceremoniously on the mattress and crawls on top of you again, half-crushing you underneath him. It’s a sound he wants to hear forever, paired with your playful shoves against his shoulder and your huffs and puffs, as if you didn’t hook your leg around his middle to keep him close to you. He kisses the side of your neck again, wondering where else he can leave his mark, and what waking up with you will feel like, and just how these three words will taste like once you lick them off his lips.

Ambrosial, he thinks. Just like you.

a/n: starting the year with an atsumu fic was not on my bingo card but here we are. @nekozaki hi ily this is mostly for you my liege

𖦹 AM I THE SAME GIRL? ⇆ atsumu miya

┆︎summary ┆︎you've taken up two new interests―geology and unearthing the truth behind atsumu's new cryptic behavior.

┆︎tags┆︎getting together, friends to lovers. reader is oblivious. atsumu is predictably, a loser in love.

┆︎wc┆︎3.7k

┆︎an┆︎it is the beginning of winter and for some reason i always think of summer. and also this 100% an excuse to research further about something that has always interested me. half of what i learned didn't even make it into the fic but just know i have about 3 hours worth of stuff lodged in my brain now.

okinawa is a long thirty-six hours from your home in hyogo. you've already vowed to visit once your curator job takes off―and you actually have enough money to stay there. but anyway. the reason you want to visit so badly is because of the hoshizuna no nama―or the star sand beach. where sand is typically made up of tiny rocks and particles, the sand is made of tiny star-shaped little particles.

you know this, and other odd things about rocks you've never heard of before, thanks to your monthly subscription to the petrology society journal. the part time job you've gotten at onigiri miya doesn't allow much for extra expenses, but the journal is one of the things you don't mind dipping into your budget for.

it's nothing something most people would expect from you (and certainly not something you thought you would enjoy so much) but you had caught the tail end of a documentary on the history of the earth while studying for yet another exam.

you're reading the latest issue now, or you're trying to. it's more like you're pretending to read it, as your eyes scan over the same paragraph seven times. in reality, you're way too interested in watching osamu and a few of his friends play a friendly (?) game of volleyball. and more specifically―watching atsumu play volleyball.

osamu had asked if you wanted to join, or maybe if you wanted to keep the score but you had declined. these were osamu's friends, and you felt more than a little out of your element just by being there. you attended the inarizaki high, same as osamu and his friends, but to say you were friends then was a generous statement.

at most, you and osamu partnered together often to work on projects or study. classroom friends. not the sort that hung out together outside of school hours. and when you started working part-time at onigiri miya, you assumed it would be the same. it isn't, and as a result, the two of you have struck up a tentative new friendship.

atsumu, osamu's twin, is an entirely different story. even in highschool, he was never someone you were able to understand. and nothing about him ever made any sense. even after all the time that has passed, that remains the same.

it's like he pays too much attention to you, but at the same time―none at all. you don't get it.

suit yourself atsumu had said, putting his hands on his hips as his eyes traced over you―watching keenly as you found a place to sit off to the side. you can just be my cheerleader instead.

your scowl had been instantaneous. feathers ruffled, you planted yourself down on your beach chair and forced yourself not to give atsumu the time of the day. a challenge, when he's possibly the hottest person you've ever seen. he carries himself differently than osamu, and you wonder if that's what makes you so drawn to him.

you aren't sure if you want to know the answer. what does that say about you, being attracted to boys with bad attitudes and piss colored hair?

"i don't hear any cheerin" atsumu drawls out, when he catches you staring for maybe the third time in a row. you scowl again, and cross one long leg over the other, body language clearly expressing your displeasure.

the star sand, in the end, isn't made up of anything mythical―not like you had been expecting. you know magic isn't real, but still your mind had conjured up the idea that the star sand was made of remnants from magical stars. sand, star shaped or not, are made up of decomposed organisms.

your eyes slide once more towards atsumu. for once, he isn't looking back at you. people, famous volleyball athletes or not, are made up of the same things.

--

today had been taxing in a way it hasn't been in a long time. you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, plastered with heat and sweat. class fared no better, and you forced yourself to trudge through the lessons―completely fumbling when a professor suddenly cold-called on you.

the one time you decide to give yourself a few extra hours of sleep instead of keeping up with the reading, you make a fool out of yourself in front of everyone. you're sure no one even remembers it, or gives it a second thought. but you wouldn't know how to stop being so mean to yourself, even if you wanted to.

your day hadn't gotten any better. you spilled a cup of iced coffee all over yourself, tripped and skinned your knee, had a disastrous shift at onigiri miya (to the point where osamu sent you home early)―and to top it all off, passed out the moment you arrived back at your apartment, instead of working on a paper that was due the next day.

never again will i take a summer class, you think to yourself, as you stand sleepily in line at the nearby convenience store.

"you seem tired" a voice says, next to you. and you turn blearily to face atsumu miya himself. "you're in grad school, right?"

it's totally and completely unfair that he gets to walk around looking that perfect. if there is a god, it's clear that he has favorites. and you are most certainly not one of them. atsumu, on the other hand, is.

"i'm regretting taking summer classes" you explain, tracing the floor pattern with the toe of your beat-up sneakers. you don't want to delve too deeply into your issues, and you're unsure if atsumu even cares to listen. "it's―challenging. at times"

"it might be a busy day, but try to make some time for yourself. any time spent settling your mind is time well spent. staring pensively into that cup of tea for a few moments can be equally beneficial" says atsumu, reading off of his phone, tone unusually wise. "calm your mind, and your heart, and make it an at-peace day"

it's night. your brow arches, thoroughly concerned.

"what?" is all you say, looking at him.

"it's pretty straightforward you know" atsumu pouts―pouts. this whole infatuation...thing, would be a lot easier if he weren't so pretty to stare at. "just, keep it in mind, okay?"

"...okay" you promise, because what else can you even say at this point.

a grin spreads across his face, surprisingly genuine. you don't even want to begin to unpack what that might mean, so you don't. you pay for your things, and part ways outside of the entrance of the store, going in opposite directions.

you get back to your apartment. and you make yourself a cup of tea, staring at it in the snoopy shaped mug.

it does help you feel a bit better.

--

your favorite shifts at onigiri miya are the morning ones. well, late morning and the beginning of the rush hour. you and osamu typically chat politely, where he asks about the different events happening in your life. neither of you seem to have many friends and you're all the more glad for the easy friendship you have with him.

this morning had been passed in comfortable silence, both of you in separate parts of the shop, working.

that is, until osamu sticks his head to the front of the shop and throughs a wrench in your entire life. "you know you could just talk to him"

"huh?" you say ineloquently, serving spoon held above the rice. it dawns on you pretty quickly, what osamu is saying and you don't have to look at him to know that he knows. still, you lie and reply with, "i have absolutely no clue what you're talking about"

"really? because 'tsumu's standing right there" your head snaps up. atsumu is not there. you turn to glare at osamu, who only laughs loudly at your expense. "god you're easy"

"i'm going to quit" you threaten, though both of you know that isn't the case. osamu only laughs louder. "i don't deserve this treatment"

the bell jingles overhead. "what treatment?" atsumu says, in the flesh this time―fresh from a jog. both you and his twin look surprised. speak of the devil, they say, and he shall appear. "osamu you better be treating your best employee with the utmost respect!"

"i don't even treat you with the utmost respect" osamu drawls, before heading into the back of the shop so he doesn't have to hear his twin's response.

atsumu, thoroughly annoyed, stalks to the front. he stares down at you through the separation glass and smiles. "good morning. doing better?"

"uhhh" you say, awkwardly, staring at him. or trying not to stare at him. he's wearing a tank top today and you can feel your brain shutting down. eventually, your brain reboots itself and you remember what it is he wanted to know. "yes―the tea helped. thanks for that"

"no problem" atsumu replies, and rattles off his usual weekend morning order. two spicy tuna and two yaki. he watches you make them with eerily focused eyes―like it's his first time ever seeing anyone make onigiri or something.

you make your way to the cash register, and atsumu follows. his eyes land on your latest issue of the petrology society journal. "you've been reading those a lot."

your eyes, naturally, also track to the magazine. you usually like to read to pass the time when there's no customers in sight. but being noticed, perceived, by atsumu of all people, makes you feel suddenly too-conscious. you try to remind yourself of the star sand, and how it's just like regular sand. atsumu is just another person. no need to get so worked up about it.

"every time i see you, your nose is usually in it" atsumu says―unaware of the effect it has on you. he points to the cover. "do you know what kind of rock that is?"

"basalt" you gurgle out, avoiding his stare.

atsumu's eyes light with understanding. "looks kinda like gravel to me" he lifts his gaze to you once more. "is that a rock? gravel?"

you pretend to think on it―like you haven't covered that topic on one of your earlier issues weeks ago.

"gravel's made up of a lot of other crushed rock" you explain, eyeing him. he's looks genuinely interested. "usually limestone, sandstone and basalt"

atsumu smirks, victorious, and snaps his fingers. "i knew it"

he did not 'know it'. you hand him onigiri with a small smile and a shake of your head anyway.

--

osamu, atsumu, their friends and a handful of new faces you don't quite recognize are playing volleyball in an indoor gym. once again, osamu has extended an invitation to you―but you learn that atsumu has asked that you be there as well.

this time, you bring along an ice cooler, stashed with water bottles. you don't really know what volleyball players eat to conserve energy and after classes sucking the joy from your body, you didn't feel too up to making anything. but they seem overjoyed at the snacks you've brought anyway.

what excites a bunch of grown adult men about mere trail mix and greek yogurt, you'll never understand. but if it means everyone likes it, then you're happy. you're chatting with a few siblings and close friends of the players and you're having so much fun you haven't bothered to pick up your magazine once. but its tucked into your crossbody bag, pressing up against your side as a gentle reminder of its presence.

watching them play volleyball is fun all on its own, too. atsumu and his brother play on the same team, playfully bickering with one another. and then atsumu's eyes search through the small gathering of people watching until they land on yours. he slaps the back of osamu's shoulder and jogs off the court before he can retaliate.

"give me your hands" atsumu says, instead of greeting you like a normal person.

you, predictably, do no such thing. instead, you shoot him a cautious look, cradling them to your chest. "i'm not doing that"

atsumu rolls his eyes. "just do it"

he holds his hands out, expectant. side-eying him, you comply. he takes hold of them―touch surprisingly gentle. his hands are warm, but aren't sweaty like you'd expect. he turns your palms over, and his eye's scan over them, studying them.

there's not much else for you to do, but join him. you look at your palms, trying to see what he see's. if he's seeing anything at all.

"you know, by looking at your hands, i'd say you would make a pretty good spiker" he says, and then, cryptically―"a twist in your plans will lead to unexpected joy. embrace the change"

"what are you, miya-san, you aren't making much sense at all" you say, trying not to give away how much you like it when he gently starts to trace over your palm lines with his thumb.

atsumu holds up one of your hands, comparing it to his own. "your palms and your fingers are proportional―see? signs of a good hitter they say"

that sounds like you made it up, you want to say, but don't.

"and the last part―it was your horoscope this morning" he says, continuing to make less and less sense. why does he know your horoscope in the first place? does he check it periodically, or is this a spur of the moment thing? the two of you are still holding hands. what does any of this mean?

i didn't know atsumu was into this kind of stuff, you think to yourself, as you stare at his hands in return. you suppose you aren't the only one with new, emerging interests.

"and what do your hands say?" you reply instead, hoping that he doesn't pull away.

atsumu snorts, and this time, places his in yours. "well i guess you can check. not that you know what you're looking for"

"well explain it to me then" you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning his palms over in your hands, like he had done with yours. you hear the hitch of breath that follows, before you see it.

"well my fingers are slightly longer and that means they're unproportioned to my palms" he explains, matter of factly. you stare more pointedly at his hands, so you don't have to look up into his face. "so you could say i would make a good middle blocker"

"but you're not" you say, frowning.

"i'm not" atsumu confirms, smirking at you―like it's a fond secret the two of you share. someone laughs in the background, surely not at the two of you, but he pulls away anyway, running a hand through his hair.

"is it really that hard for you to want to cheer for me?" he asks suddenly, staring at you.

confusion falls upon your face. every time it seems that you finally have a handle on the conversation, atsumu has to flip them so that you remain ever puzzled. "huh?"

"i always ask you to. cheer for me, i mean." he explains, uncharacteristically looking away. "but you never do. you cheer sometimes for osamu, or suna. oran especially."

you wish for the contact of his hands again. "i didn't think you were serious. i'm sorry"

it dawns on you then, that he has. nearly every time they play, in fact. he asks without fail. but you assumed it was a joke, or something.

"try it next time?" he asks, 100% serious, ignoring the way his team calls out for him. you have a feeling this isn't about the cheering anymore. but it's like you're missing several pieces of a particularly large and complex puzzle. in other words. you have no idea what it is that atsumu means behind his words.

"okay" you say, because what else is there to say?

atsumu beams, and jogs back onto the court.

--

osamu says he's going to head out to go pick up some supplies. he returns forty-minutes later with no supplies and with atsumu in tow, flanked on the other side by suna.

"hi atsumu, hi suna" you greet, waving, closing your magazine. "are you guys getting anything?"

suna and osamu look to be in much higher spirits than atsumu, who looks seconds away from puking. he doesn't. suna leans close to whisper in his ear, and atsumu glares at him fiercely―trying to turn around to leave the store. osamu doesn't let him, looking all too cheerful to push him towards you.

you decide you really don't want to know what shenanigans the three of them are up to.

"your usual, miya-san?" you ask again, putting on a pair of serving gloves.

atsumu spares another look at his brother, before shuffling forwards half-a-step. he rubs nervously at the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "there's a market. for crystals and stuff, about an hour from here in osaka. it's here for two weeks and i wanted to know if you wanted to go with me"

then, looking up at the ceiling of all things, continues. "it'll have other stuff too. like horoscopes and fortune telling."

you don't really need the extra information. you figured that sort of thing would be there. but horoscopes are kind of atsumu's thing. you're pleased he wants to share it with you―even if you find it a little cool as well.

"sure" you smile "sounds fun"

atsumu looks as though he could faint. or puke. or maybe do some combination of the two. but his color improves, and he gives you a small smile in return, shockingly bashful.

he peers down at you, shedding all of his strange behavior. "okay. great. tomorrow? i'll pick you up"

"tomorrow works for me, miya-san" you reply, good-naturedly.

atsumu turns and leaves onigiri miya without another word.

"you should dress nice" suna says, oddly, once he's completely gone. osamu's too busy typing madly on his phone to interject, so you look at him strangely. now he is starting not to make sense.

--

you do dress nicely. so much so, that atsumu compliments you on it at least four different times before you can even make it to the marketplace. i like your hair, it's cute. pretty, like your skirt. things like that. you don't know what to make of it.

"are you excited?" you ask, once the security guard hands the two of you wristbands.

atsumu clasps his on deftly, but signals for you to hold out your wrist once he notices you struggling. you try not to jerk in place every time his fingers graze your skin―but you aren't sure how successful you are at keeping a straight face.

"shouldn't i be asking you that?" he asks, raising his brows in confusion. he doesn't wait for you to answer, tugging you along by the hand in the direction of one of the booths.

"oh i recongize this one" you tell him, pointing down at a jagged stone. "its called chalcedony. i read about it a few days ago. it's a type of cryptocrystalline"

"a what?" atsumu asks, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stares down at the stone with a puzzled expression. it's cute on him, the casual bewilderment. he looks at it like he's trying to place where he's seen it before.

"a cryptocrystalline" you repeat, smiling at him. much easier to do when he isn't looking at you. "it means you can only tell that it has the structure of crystalline when its under a magnifying glass"

atsumu hums, pleased. "cool", he says, and browses the rest of the booth with you. once you're done with that one, poiting out all of the stones and rocks you've read about―atsumu pulls you along to the next one, eager to repeat the process. he's seems interested in what you have to say, asking questions to pick your brain for more information when he senses you might be holding out on him.

"i'm glad i heard about this" he brings up, as you walk away from a food stall―matching bowls of yakisoba in hand. "i read yesterday that opportunity only seizes those who are ready to take it and that i need to take the fearful leap"

you stop a stray noodle from landing on your crisp yellow cardigan, looking over at him. "what?"

atsumu's eyes are on yours. "my horoscope" he says, like it means something important.

"oh!" you exclaim, once realization hits you "i'm surprised you've gotten so into horoscopes and fortune telling"

a odd look crosses his face. "i'm not―you are"

"no i'm not" you tell him. "why would you think that?"

atsumu's face heats. "well, you're always reading about the rocks. the crystals and gemstones"

"i like petrology. not crystals and gems" you explain, unable to hide your smile. "it's about rocks in general. like their origins or what they're composed of"

you remember all of atsumu's cryptic words, odd, strange ways of speaking. the sage advice in the store that one time. they were horoscopes. before you can stop it, you burst out laughing. you try to muffle it into your arm, but the sound escapes anyway.

"that's what you were meaning with all those weird things you kept saying?" you ask, once you've managed to stop laughing. "i thought you were trying to―i don't know, warn me of my ominous and impending doom!"

"i wasn't" atsumu pouts, tossing his unfinished yakisoba into the trash. "i was trying to find something to start a conversation with you. i didn't know how else to tell you i liked you"

your amusement dries up and your throat closes up. your eyes look around, at everywhere else but him.

"...are you going to say anything?" atsumu asks, looking like the boy you remember from highschool.

"i―uh. i like you too" you stammer out, staring down at your shoes. it's shockingly easy to do. logically, you knew there was always a small, small chance that he would reciprocate your feelings, always in the most pleasant of dreams.

in them, atsumu would blush (much like he is now) and ask "are you sure?" much like his is now.

and in your dreams, you would throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. or confess your undying love and attraction to the most strangest boy you've ever known. but like the star sand, and so many other rocks you've learned about, reality does not end up like your wistful imagination.

"i'm sure" you nod, and gingerly reach for his hand. "do you want to keep looking around?"

atsumu beams. squeezes your hand in his own. it feels better than any of your dreams could have ever conjured up. "'course i do"

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

So I have a request can you write how Kenma Kageyama Nishinoya and Atsumu would react to their s/o randomly telling them to spread their legs cause she wants to put their head on their stomach 🥺👉🏾👈🏾 please and thank you 🙏🏾

“Spread Your Legs”... to Cuddle (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: Slight warning guys, I haven’t watched season four. Aka, Atsumu is maybe OOC. Aka aka, I have no idea how tf he acts. I tried tho, I swear. Also, dear requester, with my dirty mind, I sincerely hope I took your request the right way, and hope you weren’t completely looking for innocent fluff. With love, this dirty-minded author. Anyway, hope you like it! (Oh fuck, I just reread your request, I am so sorry (I saw “randomly” and went off). But I promise some of it is fluffy!! you know... some of it.)

Word count: 1116

Kozume Kenma: 

I'm just gonna start out by saying this is Kenma we’re talking about.

If you ask him for something romantic, he’s obligated to say “fuck no.”

Like seriously, you just gotta sneak attack this dude, cuz straight up asking him isn’t gonna work.

… okay maybe just this once.

“Hey Kenma, can you spread your legs?”

He gives you a weird look, then returns to playing his game. “No.”

I told you so.

So anyways, you just, you know, spread his legs.

He’s laying on the couch so one of them dangles off, and you just kinda slither between and snuggle up to his lap. 

As you do so, he takes in a quick breath and avoids your gaze, keeping his eyes locked on the screen with maximum effort. 

You lay your head on his stomach and smile against him, enjoying the heat after a cold day.

“You’re really warm.” You press a kiss to his stomach and he tenses up.

“Y-you should’ve told me this is what you were going to do.”

“Would you have let me do it?”

“...” 

He just purses his lips and relaxes his game on top of your head.

“Do you want me to stop?” You set your chin on his stomach and peer up at him innocently.

He flushes and rolls his eyes. “...no.”

Kageyama Tobio: 

You’re playing with fire with this one. But like… fake fire that doesn’t burn when you touch it, you feel me?

… Anyways, this guy is very, very concerned at first.

“Tobio, can you spread your legs for me?” 

It’s one of the few days he’s invited you over (more like you invited yourself), and when you popped into his room, he’s already relaxing in bed.

When he hears those words, steam practically blows from his ears.

“W-WHAT?!”

You love to tease him of course, and any other day, you would’ve done so, but…

Fuck it, who am I kidding, you’re totally gonna tease him. 

You step closer to his bed where he’s got one leg crossed over the other and he flinches when you run your hands up his lower legs. 

“Just spread your legs for me, baby.” 

“Y-YN, you don’t have to do this.” 

“Don’t be so nervous, Tobio. I want to.”

Hesitantly, he allows you to settle your hands on his kneecaps and pull his legs apart. 

You slide up onto the bed and slink your way in between his legs, giving him a reassuring smile. 

Then you plop down in the middle of his thighs and rest your head on his stomach with a relieved sigh. 

“Mmm, thanks for letting me do this, Tobio.”

He’s silently oblivious for a moment. (Lowkey thinking “is this how it’s supposed to be done the first time?”)

Then he slowly sets his hands in your hair and combs through it with trembling fingers. 

“S-sure.” 

Don’t worry, later you showed him how it’s done ;)

… meaning you let him lay his head on your stomach then. Geez, get ur head outta the gutter, guys. 

Nishinoya Yuu: 

SPEAKING OF PERVERTS

Just kidding, this strong boi treats you like a queen. 

“Spread your legs, Yuu.”

“Oh, FUCK YEAH!” 

Except for that. You can only giggle when he spreads his legs wide instantly, relaxing a hand behind his head while the other rests on his chest.

With a grin, you clamber onto the bed and slip between his legs, resting your head on his stomach. 

Nishinoya instantly combs his free hand through your hair while you hum in delight against him.

‘Cause you guys do this all the time. Because this is how you cuddle. 

He loves feeling like he’s taking care of you, and this is just one of the many ways he does. 

When you ask him to spread his legs, he knows it’s because you’re cold and want snuggles, and this tiny boy absolutely loves to provide for you. 

Once, when you tried to move after he had fallen asleep, his legs literally wrapped around you and trapped you against his chest. It was warm tho, so you couldn’t complain.

Anytime, whenever you’re watching a movie or just plain old taking a nap, he loves the feeling of you between his legs. 

If it’s a scary movie or you’re having a nightmare and you whimper into his chest, he’ll just coo and massage your scalp until you calm down. We’re talking hairdresser-level scalp massages. 

Noya is good with his hands, it’s confirmed.

As I said before, he loves to take care of you, and you asking him to spread his legs isn’t an uncommon occurrence whenever you two hang out. 

Now this doesn’t mean he doesn’t get a little too excited sometimes...

Miya Atsumu:

First of all, y’all are just laying in the grass courtyard studying.

Well, you’re studying. He’s just basking in the sun and trying to fuck with you in any way he can. 

When you finish (or more like give up) your studying is when you ask order him.

“Spread your legs.”

His brow raises oH fUcK, then he does that lil smirk.

“Oh really? Here? YN, you naughty girl.”

You’re dead tired. “Shut up perv, I just wanna cuddle.”

“What if I wanna do more than cuddle?” *waggles eyebrows*

“Suffer.” 

You spread his legs apart and he silently inhales, trying not to choke on air. 

When you crawl up between his thighs, he tenses up and the smirk on his face falters a bit. 

Then you rest your cheek on his stomach and wrap your arms around him like a teddy bear and he’s like “oh.”

There’s not really much he can do. He doesn’t wanna push you off bc nO but he also wants to keep up his suave, self-controlled appearance. 

But that’s not how biology works.

His hands settle into your hair and he’s hoping if you fall asleep fast enough, you won’t notice. So he starts brushing through your tangled strands and holding you closer to keep you warm.

I mean, you were really tired after studying, right?

Wrong.

“Atsumuuuu.”

“Sorry babe, but this is mostly your fault, just sayin.”

Yeah so um, next time you wanna lay on his stomach, just kinda say it, cuz this boy is all about gettin’ it onnn.

You’re too pure for him to handle

atsumu’s not going to college.

it’s not what he wants, and it’s not a requirement for his plans for the future. he has a one track road set for going pro in the volleyball industry, and he has no plans for detours slowing him down.

that was always “the plan”, and you were not part of it — you were always going to college, and you were going to spend the full time there making sure your future’s on the right track.

that’s why he broke up with you.

the two years he spent with you throughout high school gone down the drain the second he decided this would be better for him — and he feels like he’s wrong, because he still checks on you when you’re not looking — but atsumu’s dead set on the fact that he’ll only slow you down if he kept you with him.

or so, until now.

“atsumu, it’s two in the morning.” you tell him, your yawns coming in a drip drop motion as you try to understand what he’s doing in front of you right now.

it’s been two weeks since you last saw him — two weeks since the breakup — two weeks of no calls, texts or even acknowledgements from in between classes or study halls.

but now he’s here, standing on your doorstep, and you’re not really sure if you want him to be.

atsumu tells you, “i have a solution.”

“it’s two in the morning.” you remind him again.

and he only repeats, “i have a solution.”

your eyebrows furrow, “do you want to come inside?”

“no,” he shakes his head, his nose red from the cold, and he tells you, “you have to listen to me.”

you bring your arms up to your chest, not feeling so warm yourself, and you hate that he chose to do on the coldest night of the month.

you tell him, “i can listen to you inside.”

and he only replies, “i have a solution.

and you frown, “so we’re not going inside.”

you have no idea what he’s talking about, all you know is that you’re still upset with him for ghosting you right after breaking up with you, and you’re not sure if you’re ready to forgive him for that yet.

you sigh, “why are you here?”

and he nods, “because i can get a job — i’ll work on the volleyball thing most hours of the day — but whenever i’m free, i can take shifts in the local café near your campus.”

you cut him off, “wait — my campus?”

“yeah,” atsumu nods, “i checked, and they have an opening and i can totally get a job there.”

atsumu? with a job? at a cafe? you can’t even put it to words, but you’re unsure when he visited your campus, unsure why he’s even doing all this in the first place.

“a job?” you raise a brow, “why do you need a job?”

atsumu ignores your question, shivering as the cold hits him, his breath turning white as it leaves his mouth, and he continues, in a frantic fit, “i have a car, it’s for my 20th birthday but my dad agreed he can give it to me early — and i have a lot saved up so there’s that for an apartment too.”

you’ve never seen atsumu be so nervous, you’ve seen him before his games and after his losses, but he’s never looked like this — never looked so worried.

“slow down.” you break through his endless string of sentences, your eyebrows furrowing as you’re still so confused and lost of what’s going on, and you say, “it’s two am.”

atsumu doesn’t respond.

you touch his arm, “have you slept?”

he feels silly — this is the first time you’ve seen him in two weeks and he must look insane to you already. he doesn’t care, he’s tired, he misses you, he’s been missing you for two weeks, and he hasn’t stopped.

atsumu looks at you, “i don’t want to break up with you.”

you stare back at him, blinking profusely as if trying to make of the situation, and your heart softens as easily as it leaps — because you didn’t want to break up with him either.

he still looks frantic, like he’s a second away to pull his hair out, and you’d offer to let him inside the house one more time, but you’ve got a strong feeling that he’d just say no again.

“i have the place, the car, the job — you have college and i’ll have my volleyball — and i know this isn’t what we planned, but i have the solution and i really think we can make this work.” atsumu tells you all of this, a straight (frantic) tone coming through his words, he catches his breath, and he’s ready to talk to you again.

but your eyes are gentle, “what are you talking about?”

he looks at you, like he’s nervous to be looking at you, a huge lump in his throat the he needs to be swallowing down soon since he’s gone too long without speaking — and he’s nervous, because this situation earns him every right to be nervous.

he’s only 20, unsure of every decision he’s making towards his future, but he’s just spent the last two weeks without you, and the first real thing he’s realized is that there’d be nothing worse than that.

the night is cold.

atsumu stares, “will you marry me?”

mimi i'm 100% sure u made me into a thirsty bitch for tsumu, like i'd read the fics and they were good! but idk he just never peaked my interest outside of that but today...idk i saw a post abt baby tsumu on twitter and i immediately thought what it'd be like with me in a mating press and him just going balls deep to make tiny tsumus sjfbdbfjshs breeding kink go brrrr😳

he would fill you up so good too, he’d hold you down and make sure you can feel every inch, sinking into you slow and deep to feel just how good your soft walls hug him tight. you tremble underneath him and dig your nails into his shoulders as he bottoms out, full, massive balls resting against you. 

“that’s my girl, look at that, you took it all,” he breathes, just barely starting to thrust in and out, wanting to savour the way your cunt throbs around him when he’s fully buried inside you. “squeezing me so tight, baby,” atsumu groans, “look at me.”

your eyes flutter open to dark, honeyed eyes, lidded and searching for any signs of hesitation in your expression. “pretty.” 

atsumu starts to pull out slowly, hissing through his teeth and shuddering when he stops halfway through his movement, fingers pressing into the backs of your thighs. “relax, you’re—ahh—can barely move, shit.” 

“s-sorry, tsumu.” your apology comes out slurred as you shoot him a dazed smile. “guess you’re gonna have to stretch me out, then...”

excitement flashes through atsumu’s eyes at the challenge and he pushes your thighs back further, pulling out only to thrust back in sharply. “yeah?” you both moan on the way back in, atsumu repeating the movement over and over until you’re begging, pleading for him to just fuck you already.

“pretty girl wants to get fucked, huh? i’ll do ya one better, baby.” atsumu finds his rhythm and thrusts into you, his slightly curved cock slamming right into your g-spot with every push of his hips. “gonna breed this hungry cunt,” he pants, speeding up, “fill your little womb up with cum and make you a mommy for me, yeah? how’s that sound?”   

post-game | miya atsumu

pairing: atsumu x reader

warnings: 18+ smut, pwp, unprotected sex, sex in a locker room, dirty talk, creampie 

word count: 362

author’s note: based on the ask: daily Astumu milking (◡‿◡✿) 

“someone could walk in on us any minute now… you’d like that though, wouldn’t you?” impatient as ever, he starts bouncing you, all the way up and all the way down, easily guiding your movements as the squelch of your pussy fills the locker room.

Keep reading

message delivered | miya atsumu

this is part 2 to typing… find part one here!

miya atsumu x f!reader - 18+

warnings: smut, size kink, light hair pulling, praise, oral (male & fem receiving), fingering

wc: 4.9k

A/N: this was supposed to be a 1.5k pwp. idk what happened. thank u to @atsumuse for hyping me up the entire time i was writing this and being my baeta

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since that one crazy, unbelievable drunk night when you spilled your guts about how sexy you thought Miya Atsumu, MSBY Setter #13, was. Since then, it feels like you’ve constantly been walking on air. After Bokuto had so rudely interrupted your video call with Atsumu, the latter had been quick to give you his number, asking you if you had time the following day to “finish what we started”.

Unfortunately, you didn’t. As much as you wanted to drop all of your responsibilities, you’d had prior obligations and couldn’t find any excuse out of them. You cursed being an adult, responding with disappointment and shaky fingers, hoping that Atsumu wouldn’t ghost you for not jumping at the opportunity to meet up with him. Luckily, he was completely understanding, saying that the next time he’ll be in town will be in two weeks and that he hopes he’ll get the chance to see you then.

That didn’t stop you two from texting each other nonstop, especially now that you had his number. At first you were hesitant, not wanting to come off as too clingy or obsessive, but with every passing day and text exchanged between the two of you, that quickly wore off. It helped that Atsumu always returned your enthusiastic energy and reciprocated the eager itch you felt in your fingers. 

Keep reading

typing... | miya atsumu

After a drunken night with your friends, the last thing you expect to wake up to is Miya Atsumu in your DMs.

miya atsumu x f!reader - 18+

warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol, atsumu, mutual masturbation

wc: 3.7k

A/N: ty to local atsumu fucker and my baeta @atsumuse​ for once again coming in clutch and making sure atsumu isn’t the bumbling idiot i headcanon him as!!

find part two, message delivered, here!

Saturdays are for two things: the girls and indulgence. When you work hard, you deserve to play hard, right? At least that’s what you tell yourself when you’re four shots deep, dancing like an idiot to some up and coming pop musician in the living room of your best friend’s house.

One of your friends calls your name from the kitchen, where she’s munching on some chips and salsa. “Didn’t you say you had a new boy toy obsession? Let’s hear about him!”

Laughing, you twist open a water bottle and take a long gulp. Something so simple as water tastes like nectar of the gods when you’ve been drinking nothing but liquid fire all night. “You know that volleyball team I follow?”

“The coyotes or whatever?” Your best friend pipes up, lying down on the cool tile of the kitchen floor.

“Black Jackals, but close enough. Yeah, well, I’m kinda over Bokuto—the owl-looking guy—now and I’ve been crushing hard on his teammate. Here, check him out.” You pull up Miya Atsumu’s instagram page, spinning your phone around to show your friends.

Keep reading

we need to talk about the way atsumu teases you over facetime when he’s away at an important game. 

you’re surprised to see him in a hotel bed, looking up at the camera with half-lidded eyes and a smirk. “hi, sweetheart.”

“’tsumu!!” you beam at him, waving into the camera. he looks… tired?

he exhales heavily and his eyes shut briefly at the sound of your voice. it takes a second for you to realize, cocking your head to the side and focusing on the sight of him before it dawns on you.

“a-atsumu… are you…?” you purposely trail off, eyes widening as the question spurs him on, groaning. you can see his shoulder moving, the trajectory of the repetitive movements making it very clear. he is. 

“yeah, baby, i sure am,” he confirms, panting, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “was thinking of you and – nggghh… had to see your pretty face to get off.”

he’s still in his uniform and you can see how sweaty he is from his game. “we won so – fuck – i wanted to see my little girl.” he continues pumping his cock, looking into your lust-blown eyes, his bottom lip getting caught between his teeth as he grazes over his sensitive head.

“you wanna see daddy’s cock? yeah, you miss it already, don’t you?”

part 2