created this for x reader icl

✮⋆˙ wc: 1.3 k, Miya Atsumu x gn! reader, fluff, no use of y/n ✮⋆˙

Things do not happen like they do in the romance novels. It's a simple truth, one that should be universally acknowledged. You drill it into your brain every day when you wake up, a solemn vow to not hope for anything more than an average life and disappointing romantic experiences. 

Hiding alongside is a small prayer to be proven wrong. Deep down, who doesn't want to be desired like the protagonist? Just once, to have your feelings returned tenfold. To not suffer the drawn-out agony of an unrequited crush, watching from afar and waiting for a moment that never happens.

It would be nice, but you don't keep your hopes up, especially for yourself. 

After all, you have pretty dreadful luck with crushes, giving you the feeling that you were only meant to admire from afar. 

The people you liked never looked your way, and whenever one did, they turned out to be a massive piece of shit.

Or, perhaps there can be a mix. Perhaps, your crush never talks to you and also is an asshole.

As you walk through the entryway of Inarizaki High and spot the gaggle of people in the hall, you know it's true.

 Even through your rose-colored lenses, you can see the cockiness stamped across every inch of Miya Atsumu's body. His golden hair shines under the lights, giving him the deceptive appearance of a halo. He doesn't bother smiling at the girls gushing about how they watch all his games, nor at the guys patting him on the back and trying to pretend they're friends with the volleyball team's setter. There’s no reason for him to be nice, because they all stay anyway. 

You’re no better than them, really. Every time you walk past him, you steal glances like you’re robbing the Louvre. A mix of admiration and curiosity, tinted with the knowledge that you’re never going to actually talk to him. It’s actually impressive, how little you’ve interacted despite being in the same class. 

You’d worry he was avoiding you, but it’s not like he cares enough to.

He’s too busy, too arrogant, too handsome.

He cares about nothing but volleyball. Maybe his brother, if he’s feeling generous.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you can’t help smiling whenever he acts stupidly confident, or whenever his friends call him on his bullshit. It’s not fair that you’re stuck on the other side of the hall, walking past his gaggle of fans and carefully avoiding their eyes. You can see your own emotions reflected in their hopeful gazes, and you don’t like it one bit.

The truth is, Atsumu does not want a romantic partner. That means letting someone new see all of his (certainly very ugly) personality, after all. As far as the school is aware, he’s never dated at all. Fangirls are where he draws the line. Fangirls who love him but don’t know him, fangirls who he can use and discard.

“Ugh,” you mutter. You really need to get better taste. Your locker’s just past the crowd of people–a beacon of safety. With one last glance at your crush, you rush ahead and punch in the code. Getting your things is more important than ogling.

“Hey, ‘Samu!”

He’s walking past you. He’s behind you, his voice is close, oh now he’s on the other side, and you’re–

Your things. Stop. No looking.

He looks so good in the school uniform.

You grit your teeth. Evil, evil boy.

The locker opens with a slight creak. Your notes and textbooks are exactly where you left them, stacked neatly in a pile with a maroon envelope on top.

Wait.

What.

It’s just an envelope, with your name written on the top in bold strokes.

Should you open it now?

Wait?

When did someone sneak it in?

Who is this someone?

You glance around nervously, but no one’s watching. Not a single pair of eyes to watch you hesitantly open the package and pull out a folded piece of paper. 

There’s no way it’s a…love note, right? That’s not…no one would…

You unfold the paper and read its contents.

I like you a lot. Meet me after school, by that overgrown bush in the courtyard. Please. You won’t regret it!

Signed,

It’s a secret. Hah!

A laugh slips through your lips. Is this a joke? If whoever wrote this is genuinely trying to woo you, they’re doing a horrific job. It sounds more like a threat than anything.

“What do you mean your identity is a secret?” you murmur. “You want to meet me. Today. Why would you–” 

It’s almost endearing, how silly the whole thing is. Your shoulders are shaking from giggles as you tuck the note into your pocket. The most likely possibility is a prank, but you’ll still go along for the fun of it.

After school. 

See you then, I guess.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

You kick a small pebble on the ground to distract yourself from the sight before you. “You–I didn’t take you as the kind of person to do pranks like this.”

The sun’s starting to make its way back down to the horizon, but it’s still bright outside as you stand in the courtyard with the mysterious note in your hand. Across from you stands none other than Miya Atsumu, arms crossed with that asshole grin on his face. It only got bigger when he first saw you. No wonder–he knew his prank worked, and now you were sighing with your head downturned trying to logic your way out of this situation. You can’t show even a hint of interest in him, or you’ll be mocked mercilessly. 

No.

He won’t care. At all.

And that is even worse.

“Whatcha mean?”

You look up. Atsumu actually looks…nervous?

“Shit, did I say somethin’ stupid? I thought I was super cool and chill in it…”

“Well,” you wince, “it kind of read like a ransom note. It was kinda charming, though.”

WHAT am I saying?

I’m complimenting him. 

It’s not like he meant it.

It’s not like–

“Y’know, I’ve never asked anyone out,” Atsumu shrugs. “Everyone wants to date me, obviously.”

You groan. “Uh huh.”

“But, uh–remember when we had to do a group project?”

As a matter of fact, you did. He barely put in any work and was silent most of the time. 

“What about it?”

“Well, um.” Is Atsumu blushing?

Holy shit. He is.

“You told me I was nothing more than a pretty face.”

That…does sound like something you’d think, though he must’ve been really annoying for you to actually say it.  

Atsumu scratches the back of his neck with one hand, awkwardly gesturing with the other. “Uh, I…liked that.” He grins. “I like my compliments with a bite.”

“That was just an insult,” you frown. “I mean, you are very handsome–”shit what am I saying–“but I was…just saying you weren’t doing any of the work.”

“Mmhmm, that. That was the best part. Cuz you actually made me wanna help out more.”

“But for some reason,” he sighs, “we were never put together after that. So…I had to resort to this. ‘Samu thinks I should’ve just confessed from the start, he says I’m stupid. Honestly, I prefer you calling me stupid.”

Oh shit. He’s being honest. He likes you. 

Miya Atsumu likes you, and he sounds more introspective and sweet than he’s ever been from afar. You gulp. “Well, I may have, uh, had a crush on you this whole time. I just thought you were an asshole.”

His eyes widen at the confession.

“And you still are, by the way,” you add. Can’t give everything to him. “You’re not nice. But I think there’s some kindness hidden somewhere there. I really like you too.”

You hand him the note. “Is this you asking me out?”

He nods rapidly, looking for all the world like a happy dog. His lips twist into a massive smile. “So, you say yes?”

“Yep,” you reply. “I’ll date you, pretty face and all.”

Hesitantly, your arms wrap around him in a quick hug. It’s a little awkward and foreign. 

You’re excited to get used to it.

♥︎ Tendou, who never says anything when he catches you scrolling through the stories of people with more exciting lives than you, with more friends than you, with more everything. 

♥︎ Tendou, who notices everything with those sharp eyes of his and soon pulls you in a little closer. "Cheese!" To show how awesome we look, he explains.

♥︎ Tendou, who always starts yapping loudly to drown out the noisy friend groups stumbling on home drunkenly, asking questions and listening to your responses with rapturous attention. 

♥︎ Tendou, who leans his head against your shoulder and falls asleep to the soft rumble of your voice once you go to bed.

♥︎ Tendou, who doesn't pass up a chance to stay at home and avoid parties. You ask him if he, too, feels like he's missing out on his youth. He grins. "I'm spending it just fine, though." 

♥︎ Tendou, who's never been one for social settings in the first place. He knows that feeling of ostracization; he'd never judge you for staying away, but you always face the same refrain first: "You could do it all, if you wanted." You do want friends. It's just...hard.

♥︎ Tendou, who introduces you to his old friends from high school and guides you through the conversation, never letting you fall behind and chiding the others for their unexplained inside jokes.

♥︎ Tendou, who makes a big deal out of the accomplishments nobody else does. He celebrates each step you take, every flick of your wrist—all of it.

✮⋆˙ fluff, comfort, f!reader, slightly suggestive, no use of y/n ✮⋆˙

It's been a long day. Side tangents to appease others and a crippling desire for perfection lead you astray, hours past when you were supposed to leave work. 

After all the stress and exhaustion, the most you can do upon returning home is collapse into bed. Your limbs lie haphazardly against the neat sheets, messy hair and wrinkled clothes upsetting the space your boyfriend had straightened up. 

You hope he doesn't mind. 

Kuroo's off in some other part of the home, probably humming quietly to himself while filling out paperwork. You'd been extra careful to enter as silently as possible so as not to distract him, tiptoing on sore feet to the bedroom. 

Besides, there was always a chance he'd drifted off on his desk, cheek smushed against the wood and eyelashes fluttering softly. You smile at the thought, lips curling upwards as you imagine his face flushed with sleep. He's always so cute when he wakes up, all tousled hair and hazy eyes. 

The sound of footsteps interrupts your train of thought.

"You're home," Kuroo yawns. "I didn't hear. Sorry, my love." He eats up the space to your shared bed in just a few long strides, then peers down at you with a worried gaze. "Are you all right?"

A large hand reaches out to cup the roundness of your cheek, thumb rubbing up and down soothingly.

" 'm tired," you mutter. "I feel all gross, but..." You close your eyes, voice trailing off. He understands what you're saying. You know he does.

Before you can even open your eyes, you feel muscled arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you up as if you're as light as a feather. Kuroo lets out a half-grunt, half-laugh at the way you squirm upon coming to your senses.

"Kuroo, what are you doing?" you murmur. He doesn't answer, simply marches you over to your bathroom and sets you down on the edge of the tub.

"You want to get cleaned up," Kuroo explains. "So... I'll clean you up."

Your face flushes. "I mean—that's not what I—"

He presses a finger to your lips. "Shh, let me do the work, okay? You just keep those pretty little eyes of yours on me."

Without another word, Kuroo reaches down to tug at your skirt. It slips off without much effort, pooling at your toes like silk. Instinctively, you curl in on yourself. He's seen you naked before, but something about the gentle intimacy of his movements feels raw, unknown. It's a little scary, but you let him slip his thumb under the hem of your shirt and pull it to your bust. "Arms up, darling," he purrs. A shiver runs down your spine, sharp and indulgent. He knows what he does to you.

The last items of clothing to come off are your underwear and bra. The latter brings a rush of relief, and you lean your head back to enjoy the feeling of your tits no longer being choked. Your eyes flick down just in time to see the look of hunger on Kuroo's face—a desperate, numbing desire—before he controls his muscles into something more casual.

A cacophony of rushing water fills the room. An elbow hooks under your knees, and you feel yourself gently being placed in the water. It's near scalding, just how you like it. You can't help the soft moan of pleasure that escapes your lips at the sensation.

For a second, Kuroo just stares, awestruck. He places his elbows on the rim, watching as the steam melts away the weariness threatening to seep through your bones.

"Thought you were gonna help," you sigh. One shiny leg breaks the surface of the bath. "My kneecaps aren't going to wash themselves, are they?" 

"Oh, of course." Kuroo squeezes some shampoo into his palm. His fingers are strong yet delicate as they tumble through your hair, kneading the strands like his life depends on cleaning your roots. "Does this feel okay?"

You nod shakily. "Mmhmm. It—nngh, yeah that feels fine."

Sinking into the water, you lose awareness of anything other than Kuroo's hands on your body. He's at the nape of your neck, playing with the baby strands of hair. He's at your chest, tracing the outline of your curves with a light, teasing touch. He's running his fingers up and down your leg like a masseur, tongue flicking out in concentration. Spuds of soap float to the top, forming a little island that grows and grows as Kuroo cleans you up.

When he's finally done, you feel brand new. Your skin is gleaming and spotless, and your hair swishes through the cloudy water like a mermaid's. Best of all, you feel less crushed by exhaustion. The headache that's been threatening to bring you down all day is at the back of your mind, now. It's nothing more than a background noise accompanying the thunderous beat of your heart.

"Feel better?" Kuroo whispers. He has that smirk on his face, the one that tells you he already knows the answer before your lips begin to form a response.

"Yeah."

❥ Bokuto: Does not even get to Bone Bottom. He has never played Hollow Knight and has no fucking clue what to do, plus it's not really his thing. He asks Sakusa for help (and does not learn anything from it)

❥ Kageyama: He does not care or want to play, but he enjoys judging Hinata's playthrough and thinking about the realism of Hornet's attacks.

❥ Sakusa: 100% completion. He gets all the achievements except for the speed runs and those locked awards piss him off to no end. He uses a guide but only once he's at the end, and simply checks every single spot on every list until he gets it all. He doesn't even like video games.

❥ Aran: Takes his time, clearing all the side quests he finds and enjoying the scenery. He beats Grand Mother Silk the first time but doesn't realize there's more to do, and stops playing. Does not engage with the competition between some of his teammates.

❥ Atsumu: Attacks every enemy in his path and brags all the way to his (very frequent) death. Is forever haunted by Sakusa's achievements, because he can't even get through the citadel. Also, does not give a shit about the lore.

❥ Komori: Terrible at it but has a fun time, gives up somewhere in act one. He makes his cousin tell him whether Sherma survives because that's the only thing he really cares about.

❥ Hoshiumi: Insists on going in blind, beats the game but misses the vast majority of quests and areas. He likes pogo-ing off his enemies' heads and killing them in midair, which is why bosses that jump annoy him to no end.

❥ Ushijima: He decides he'll get to 112% in Hollow Knight before beginning Silksong. Unfortunately his athletic strength does not transfer to the Knight and he can't get past the third Pantheon, so he never starts Silksong.

❥ Hinata: Highly, highly determined, but absolute shit at the game. His biggest flaw is that he does not understand the crest system at all, and he constantly loses all his rosaries. After calling Kenma at every hour of the day for advice, he ultimately manages to get the true ending. It takes him 150 hours. Bonus: At a certain point, Kenma starts streaming Hinata's playthroughs so he can at least make content out of it

❥ Yaku: Low-key doesn't want to leave Bellhart once he gets his Bellhome, so he just fights monsters around there to keep the town safe. Says he believes that Lace will save the kingdom somehow because she's powerful.

˙⋆✮ NSFW, timeskip, f!reader, degradation, oral f!receiving, slightly mean reader, no use of y/n ˙⋆✮

Oikawa Tooru is used to the adoration, the cheering crowds and bedazzled posters proclaiming, "I love you!", "¡Te amo!", "大好きです !" He revels in it, soaking up every compliment like he needs it to survive.  Oikawa Tooru is used to idolatry, which is precisely what makes it so boring.  He knows he's perfect, down to his artfully messy hair and lopsided smirk. 

Behind closed doors, his eyes get softer. His words are desperate as he pushes you down onto his bed; he wants you to push back. You grab him by the wrists, squeezing tightly as you leer up at him. "Aw, you wanna touch me, babe?"

You can feel your boyfriend's breath on your face, heavy and quick. "Please," he gasps. "I nee-I-please." He lowers himself onto you, hard-on pressing against the fabric of your pants. Beneath, you can feel yourself pulsing and wet with want, but you're not going to let him know just yet. 

You grind up into him instead, relishing the little whimper that escapes his lips. "You're so hard for me, Tooru."

He loves when you use his first name, when you spit it like honeyed venom. "I haven't even done any yet," you coo. "Pathetic." Your lips brush against his ear ever so softly, moving down to his neck. You bite down hard.

"That's going to leave a mark," he mumbled. "If someone sees it during a game-"

"Then they'll know what a pretty little slut you are," you finish smoothly. Letting go of his wrists, you pinch his flushed cheeks. He's so much more beautiful here, unraveling at your touch, than he is on the court. "Now, why don't you make yourself useful, hm?" You flick your gaze down, roaming over the curves of your own body. "You wanna cum in me? Then earn it, guarra."

Oikawa obeys immediately, leaning to press a kiss to your collarbone. "Okay, baby. Does this feel good?"

He repeats the question as his hands trail along your sides, kissing his way down your body. The hem of your shirt hikes up, a perfect spot for his pleading caress. "You like it?"

Every time, your response is the same. A tsk, a shrug, anything that keeps him fervent and eager. 

He slips his tongue beneath the waistband of your pants. His hot palms burn imprints into your hips, and the look in his eyes is searing as he slowly, slowly catches the hem of the pants in his teeth.

"I told you to be useful," you sing-song. "Let's not stop now, 'kay?" You thread your fingers through his hair and tug, tug, tug. Get on with it.

Your pants come off smoothly, and your underwear next. A single pause sits between the two moments, a sigh of appreciation and wonder.

"So wet," he breathes.

Then his lips are on you, whispering sweet nothings into your pussy. He licks at your folds, messy and wet, before slipping his tongue into you. 

Nothing can hide the guttural moan that seeps out of you—it's music to Tooru's ears. "God. I don't deserve all your little sounds, but I want to hear all of them." He slips his tongue back in and flicks it all around, brushing the walls of your entrance with experienced movements. You've done this before with him, so many times, but the heat always feels different. Today it's disorienting and fierce. He needs to prove himself, and lord it is working.

 You thrust into his touch, melding your bodies together into an indistinguishable mess of pleasure and lust. It's so much and it's not enough.

You need his mouth on your clit, need him to suck you dry and feel you cum with sharp gyrations. You won't let him get you to climax with just his silver tongue. He needs to work for it.

A quick pull raises his head enough to meet your eyes, hazy and full of want.

"I can do more," Oikawa rasps. "I'll eat you out so good, I promise. Trust me."

He's good at keeping his promises, spreading you out like a feast and kissing his way to your clit. He gives no warning before sucking deeply, taking you in and letting his tongue slide against your bud.

"Mmph," you gasp, hands seeking purchase on Tooru's head, his shoulders, his arms. For a split second, his teeth meet your clit, cold and sharp and more of an accident than anything.

It's too good,  he's too good, he can't know he's this good.

It's no use. You can feel yourself come undone, hips bucking fiercely as you climax. Tooru's lips never once leave your pussy. He rides it out, tasting you in all your ruined glory. Only when you lie still does he get up, climbing on all fours until your noses touch.

"Mi corazón," he whispers. "Did I do a good job?"

You sneer teasingly. "Could've been a little defter with your tongue." 

It's a joke, but Oikawa's eyes are cold and serious as he nods, "I'll do better next time."

Then his face relaxes, and he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. "...Now can I fuck you teary-eyed? You're always so pretty with my cock in you."

You think on it for a moment, not letting your emotions show on your face. "Fine. But you have to beg for it.

Tooru flashes a blindingly bright smile, matching the wicked one spreading across your face. "Of course, baby." 

♥︎ timeskip, fluff, established relationship, gn!reader, no use of y/n ♥︎ ft. Bokuto, Tsukishima, Osamu, Kageyama, and Sugawara

Bokuto doesn't wait a millisecond, immediately stumbling into the room and staring at you with wide, sad eyes. He's like a kicked puppy, running straight to you and dropping to his knees. "You don't mean that, right?" he murmurs. You can't keep up the act when his chin is propped up on your knee. Brushing your hands through his hair gently, you laugh. "Of course not." Just like that, joy spreads across Bo's face, and he leans into your touch with a big smile on his face.

Tsukishima immediately sees through you. He doesn't even bother to try acting fearful, just sends a raised eye emoji, letting out a sharp laugh when you go into his room and give him your best pouty look. You'll find his weak spots eventually, don't worry, but for now you rush to his arms and accept defeat. "Smart guy," you sigh.

Osamu runs past you and out of your home, not even sparing you a single glance as he flees with his phone in hand. You frown, wondering what he could be up to. It's almost an hour before the lock turns in the door and it opens to reveal your boyfriend, holding an absolute feast-all your favourite foods, plus some of his specialty onigiri. "You made all of that?" you yelp in surprise. "How did you even-" He interrupts you with a smug grin. "Took over 'Tsumu's kitchen. Anyway please don't break up with me." A giggle spills through your lips, and you get up to grab utensils. "Fine," you sigh. "I guess I shouldn't fire my favorite chef."

Kageyama simply texts: "Ok. Why?" Blunt, but you were used to it. You respond with your pre-planned follow-up. "I don't know, I just don't feel the sparks anymore." He shoots back, "What do you mean?" How the hell were you supposed to respond to that? Your laugh fills the room, and a second later Kageyama is peeking his head in. He frowns, asks you why this is funny. You-oh god, you can see tears in his eyes. "Wait no I'm so so sorry, I was trying to be funny I don't-" At a certain point. you trail off, burying your face in your hands. "I'll take you out on a date tonight to make up for it, I promise. I'll watch all your games!" Kageyama shrugs. "Don't you already watch all my games?" At least he didn't seem too phased by the whole thing, letting a rare natural smile show-the one only you could bring out, and no other person. You know, since volleyball isn't a person.

Sugawara walks past you with a pile of boxes less than five minutes later, overflowing with his belongings. They're tall, but his face is still visible when you ask, "What are you doing?" He nods his head towards your phone. "Leaving. That's what you wanted, right?" He looks way too happy to actually think you two are breaking up, right? And he keeps looking at you as he moves through the home-is he whistling?! You break. "I wasn't serious!" Sugawara tsks, putting on his teacher voice. "No, that's not what you said," he teases. "I distinctly remember your text. You sa-" You tackle him in an embrace, mostly to keep him from packing up any more. He lets out an exaggerated huff. "Want to say what you mean? That you love me and would cry if we actually broke up? That I'm the most incredible, kind, humble, et cetera man?" You groan. He was right, of course, but did he really have to be so grandiose about it?

a/n: ive never written x reader and i have no clue how to do the aesthetic fonts and headers but i had a vision, made a new blog and everything ◉‿◉ dunno if ill ever write here again lmao