miya atsumu didn't believe in love at first sight until it happened to him.
he and osamu made it to school by the skin of their teeth, just before the physical education teacher closed the gate. the twins shared a look of relief before both grabbed each other by the collar.
"ya almost made us late, 'tsumu," osamu snarled, shaking atsumu's collar.
atsuma sneered, "hah?! don't pin this on me, 'samu! yer the one who wouldn't stop hoggin' breakfast!"
"that's 'cuz ya keep eatin' my share, dumbass!"
"yer share?! ma said that plate was f'me!"
before their argument could escalate, a startled shout intervened. atsumu snapped his head towards the gate, seeing you run while fixing your blazer. you were loudly begging the teacher to open the gates for you, but he just shook his head and pointed at his watch, indicating that you were far too late and have to be noted as such.
"damn, sucks to be her," osamu muttered, pushing atsumu away from him. "if ya didn't take yer fat ass outta kitchen, we'd probably be with her by now."
atsumu felt his temple throb the more he listen to his twin. he was about to retort, maybe even call osamu the fat ass twin by how much he eats and demands another serving, but his voice died in his throat as he watched you effortlessly jump over the gates by scaling the walls and gaining momentum via a kick. his eyes never left your flying figure as you landed a few feet away from him.
you squatted when your feet touched the ground, an exhilarated smile spreading on your lips as you congratulated yourself for a job well done. the teacher's mouth hung open, looking back and forth from the gate—which was around six feet tall or more. he groaned, dragging both hands down his face as he instructed you towards the faculty room. the smile on your face immediately vanished, replaced by a cute pout.
"woah," atsumu managed to breath out, heart racing as the scene of you jumping replayed in his mind again and again. he'd never seen anyone jump that high before nor anyone who managed to jump over the school gate that gracefully. his heart thumped against his chest, faint red spreading on his neck, cheeks, and ears as he watched you get scolded by the teacher.
when you noticed a pair of twins watching your scolding, you whined in embarrassment. as the teacher guided you towards tne entrance, you sent a small wave them.
atsumu choked on his spit when you waved at him. he pointed at himself, blinking rapidly, then waved back excitedly. he was unaware of the shaky smile on his lips nor the prominent blush coating his face.
"yer red as a tomato, 'tsumu," osamu cackled, silently taking photos of his twin as backmail material. "don't tell me ya fell in love with that girl!"
atsumu immediately jumped on osamu, shaking his shoulders. "the hell're ya sayin', 'samu?! yer seein' things 'cuz ya ate too much octo sausages earlier!"
"hah?! don't drag ma's octo sausages into this, 'tsumu! just admit ya finally have a crush on a girl!"
"shut yer trap!"
"both of you, go to yer classes already!" a passing teacher snapped at them.
the twins paused and made themselves presentable, nodding. they sneered each other as they finally entered their school building, changing into their indoor shoes.
as atsumu walked towards his classroom, he couldn't help but wish that you were his classmate... not that he'd admit it out loud, though.
for some reason rook @corviiids and i have created an elaborate sitcom scenario wherein miya atsumu shows up with a very cute baby of mysterious origin. nobody in the v-league is of any help whatsoever
osamu miya is your husband, you just haven’t been informed.
“last orders!” you said, cleaning up after the salary man who just left.
the last customers were a elderly couple who often came for dinner. living a few blocks away from the store allowed them to visit frequently, making them one of the common faces in onigiri miya.
you turned around and walked towards their table, asking for a final time if they wanted or needed anything before closing time.
“efficient as always mrs. miya”
“haha, thank you for your high praise, however i’m not a miya”
the woman looked surprised, as her husband calmly sips on the last bits of his green tea getting ready to leave.
“your not? i’m pretty sure the owner said you were his wife?”
this time you were the perplex one, looking down to your fingers to make sure you didn’t forget marrying your boyfriend.
raising your hand to show your empty ring finger, you felt another pair of hands wrap around the half raised arm, putting it back down by your sides. then you heard a voice from behind you.
“we just got married last month, so she’s still getting used to the new surname”
turning around you look at osamu, who was still holding your hands with a small mischievous smile on his face. you shoot him an inquisitive look, before returning your attention to the customers packing up to leave.
before you could correct his blatant lie, the woman chuckled. “fufufufu, you should’ve told me so earlier, enjoy being a newlywed while you can”
the woman shot you and your boyfriend a sweet smile, as her husband helps her put on her coat.
giving up on clearing up the misunderstanding, you escorted them to the exit.
before leaving the store the woman’s husband handed you some cash which you assumed to be a tip.
“consider it our wedding gift to you”
surprised by the reasoning, you tried to explain and clear up their misconception of your relationship with the owner.
“oh, we’re not actuall—“
“thank you so much for your blessings! we’ll see you next time!”
osamu cuts you off, grabbing your hand from behind again to wave the elderly couple off, wishing them a safe journey home with a wide grin on his face.
you glanced at your boyfriend, as he shamelessly walks back into the store. you followed him in, locking up after entering, shooting him another glance just to see him cleaning up his station like he didn’t just lie to get extra money.
“did you just propose to your employee at work? i’m pretty sure that’s an abuse of power mr. miya. wouldn’t want your business license getting suspended now would you?”
breaking your silence, you decided to question him on the events that transpired in the last 5 minutes.
“i don’t know what your talking about my dear?”
“you just lied to our regulars!”
you heard the grin in his voice as he replied.
“our? i’m pretty sure this place is called onigiri miya, so for them to be OUR regulars, you must be a miya”
“hmmmm, i don’t see a ring on my finger”
laughing at your response, he exercised his rights to remain silent. little did you know about the cake, bouquets, and engagement ring waiting for you at home, along with marriage filing documents he’d already signed.
-
a few months later, the regular elderly couple was back.
“mrs. miya, still as efficient as ever”
“thank you as always, i don’t deserved your high praise ma’am”
she chuckled in response “fufufu, i see you’ve gotten used to your new name.”
you flushed at her observation, not bothering to clear up the misunderstanding from before. as you sheepishly scratched your head flashing the glittering ring osamu proposed with.
you're splayed out on atsumu, back pressed to his chest, fully naked with your backside grinding against his thick bulge. he keeps pressing slow kisses to your shoulder, murmuring right against your skin. "fuck, look at ya, all spread out for us like this. so fuckin' pretty when ya moan like that. ya feel how hard my cock is against your ass? keep rubbin' on it, baby."
osamu is down between your legs, two fingers already pumping in and out of your dripping hole while his tongue laps messily at your clit.
he's loud about it, slurping every drop of your juices, adding a third finger without warning and stretching you open wider. "shit, she's so wet, 'tsumu. keep talkin' to her, she's clenching hard around my fingers. taste so fuckin' sweet, can't get enough."
atsumu chuckles low, one hand sliding up to cup your breast while his lips stay busy on your neck. "hear that, baby? osamu's makin' such a mess down there. ya like bein' our little toy, huh? keep those legs open for him. gonna have ya squirting all over his face before we even unzip."
osamu groans into your cunt, sucking your clit between his lips as his three fingers thrust deeper, curling just right while his free hand grips your thigh to keep you spread. "so fuckin' tight around my fingers. ya gonna cum for me like a good girl? soak my tongue, pretty. let 'tsumu feel ya shake on top of him."
atsumu's hips roll up against your ass, his free hand sliding down to spread your folds wider for osamu. "that's it, grind on my dick while he eats ya out. such a messy little slut for us. keep moanin' like that and we'll both be fuckin' ya stupid once we're done playin' with this pretty pussy."
⤷summary: totally innocent things you do that makes them lose their minds a little
⤷content: fluff, light crack, suggestive undertones??, established relationship
⤷characters: miya osamu, sakusa kiyoomi, ushijima wakatoshi, miya atsumu, kita shinsuke, and tsukishima kei
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ OSAMU MIYA
it’s the sauce again.
you’re perched on the counter in one of his shirts, eating fried chicken with your fingers, and you don’t even notice him watching.
“you’re starin’,” you say, voice muffled with food.
“am not.” he’s absolutely lying.
he’s supposed to be mixing batter, but instead he’s thinking about the way you just licked your thumb clean—slow, absentminded. he grips the whisk tighter.
you tilt your head at him, all innocent eyes and a sauce-stained cheek. “you okay there, chef?”
osamu blinks, turns around, mutters something like “yeah, fine” while trying to look anywhere but you.
he’s not fine. not even close.
you swing your legs and hum as if you haven’t just ruined his entire morning. he swears the next time you sit on his counter like that, he’s confiscating all sauces within a ten-meter radius.
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ SAKUSA KIYOOMI
he’s folding laundry when you come in, hair down and messy from sleep.
then you grab a scrunchie, push your hair back, and tie it up.
he swears time slows down. the wrist twist. the tug. the reveal of your neck. he blinks once, twice, and looks away like he just saw something illegal.
“what?” you ask, oblivious.
“nothing.” he’s staring at the wall now. very intently.
you shrug, go back to scrolling your phone, and he’s left pretending that he isn’t imagining pressing his lips right where your pulse beats.
later, you catch him watching you again in the mirror. “you sure it’s nothing?”
he exhales sharply. “you should... wear your hair down less.”
you laugh, because you know exactly what he means.
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI
you stretch beside him, arms raised above your head, shirt lifting just enough to show the soft curve of your stomach.
he’s reading, or at least he was. now his book is halfway forgotten.
“tired?” he asks, voice steady, but his eyes have gone a little unfocused.
“just stiff.”
he hums like he didn’t just witness a divine act. you drop your arms, sigh contentedly, and he swallows. he has a thought—something about how delicate you look and how badly he wants to trace the shape of you—but he keeps it to himself.
later, when you fall asleep next to him, curled and warm, he closes the book, presses a kiss to your forehead, and whispers something you don’t quite catch.
it sounds like mine.
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ ATSUMU MIYA
you sass him again—hands on hips, that tiny pout, that look.
“i told you it’s your turn to do the dishes,” you say.
“i’m the breadwinner ‘round here,” he argues dramatically, “shouldn’t have to wash dishes when i’m providin’ for us.”
you stare him down. he cracks first. he always cracks first.
five minutes later, he’s elbow-deep in soap suds, muttering under his breath. you lean against the counter, smug.
“what was that?” you ask sweetly.
“nothin’, sweetheart.”
you hum, start humming a tune as you dry the plates.
he glances up. there it is again—that stupid warmth in his chest that feels like home. he grins, shakes his head.
“ya drive me crazy, ya know that?”
you smirk. “that’s the point.”
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ KITA SHINSUKE
you’re curled up on the couch, oversized sweater sleeves covering your hands, a steaming cup of tea resting in your lap.
he stops in the doorway for a good ten seconds before he moves again.
“you okay?” you ask, smiling softly.
he nods. “you just look… peaceful.”
it’s a small thing, but it hits him every time—the way you exist so gently. the way you make his quiet evenings feel warmer.
he sits beside you, careful, and you shift enough to lean your cheek on his shoulder. he freezes for a moment, then exhales.
“that’s nice,” you mumble, eyes half-closed.
he hums. “yeah. it is.”
he’ll never admit it out loud, but he thinks you might be the most dangerous thing to ever happen to his heart.
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁ TSUKISHIMA KEI
you’re talking—about something random, probably a meme or a classmate—and your hands are moving all over the place. waving, gesturing, tapping your knuckles on the table when you pause to think.
he’s not listening. not really.
“are you even paying attention?” you ask.
“no,” he says truthfully.
you roll your eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but you’re smiling.
he watches you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and it’s unfair, honestly, how you can make him feel this unsteady without trying.
when you reach out to poke his cheek, he catches your wrist—not hard, just enough to make you blink up at him.
“you talk too much,” he says, but his voice is softer than usual.
you grin. “and yet, you never tell me to stop.”
he doesn’t reply. just lets go of your hand and goes back to his phone—even though he’s not reading a single word on the screen.
