Tobio Loves To See Tsukishima Suffer Canon.

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 [ miya atsumu x f!reader ]

word count : 2k // notes: no warnings just me having a crush on atsumu <3

“Are you still single?”

It was an overused taunt between the both of you.

Miya Atsumu, the nation’s bachelor’s twin brother had recently proposed to his girlfriend and so he and his bride had hired you to ensure their wedding day would be perfect.

“And who are you to say that, Miya-san?” You smile, swiping your journal with all of your plans away from his sweaty hold.

He sticks his tongue out when you laugh in triumph.

Each of his friends had fallen into the curse of matrimony—as Atsumu would call it.

His teammates from Inarizaki, from MSBY, down to the national team, and even his rivals have all settled down and some of them even had the “privilege” of having children.

He had attended the majority of the weddings as the best man—being the constant single friend; and you had attended all as their wedding planner and that was how you met the ever so charming Miya Atsumu.

“What’s the excuse this time? Commitment issues? You know... you should probably be planning your own wedding soon, Y/N.” He smiles, playing with the nameplate on your desk. “We’re not getting any younger.”

“I don’t really see the need to get married. Commitment isn’t a joke, Miya-san—“

“Miya-san is my father, just call me Atsumu.”

“I like my job, Miya-san.” You flip through the demands of the couple. They wanted fancy but simple, memorable but special, a garden theme sounded nice but having the reception at a beach wouldn’t hurt, Elegant but hints of youth would be nice.

That was as far as their requests went. The rest was up to the both of you.

Being a good friend of the bride and as the wedding planner, you had the duty of making their day perfect to suit both of their interests.

As the brother of the groom, Atsumu was left in your care to help you out—a request from the engaged couple.

Their special day rested in both of your hands.

Atsumu fumbles with his phone. “I’m just saying, most girls at our age tend to worry about settling down. And we’ve had at least seventeen weddings together in the last six years, right? Seven of them, I was the best man—not that I’m counting or anything.”

He miscounted.

The both of you had seen each other at nineteen weddings total and at every wedding since the third, you would taunt each other regarding your relationship status.

He charmed a bridesmaid or cousin from two of those events but declined their company, danced on one of the tables two weddings ago and Osamu had to bring him down. He cried five weddings prior to this one because that wedding was where his first love married someone else that wasn’t him.

Rumors said he had been sleeping around since then—Atsumu would leave an indefinite and open response but his brother, Osamu, would oppose to say that Atsumu wasn’t the type to do so; and who better to believe than his own twin?

Despite all those times you mentioned you hated seeing his face at all those weddings, the fondness in your eyes reserved for him (and only him) would say otherwise.

When you’re about to lose your mind, he was always there to rescue you and take you away for a bit. Whenever one of the plans goes wrong, he somehow helps you come up with an alternative thanks to his connections.

He was spontaneous yet reliable and you loved having him around.

And his signature cocky grin just made you just want to kiss the corners of his lips.

With a lazy yet cocky smile, Atsumu pocketed his phone. “Why don’t we get married next? That way you can finally plan the wedding of your dreams.”

“No thank you, do you have any idea how expensive weddings are?” You answered rather too fast.

“Money won’t be a concern with me.”

“It’s still a no.”

“Suit yourself.”

Five weddings ago—the same one where he cried his heart out, you slept with Atsumu Miya. The moment his warm hands pressed themselves onto your hips almost like a cry for help, you foolishly allowed him to have his way with you. He wreaked of tears, chardonnay and red wine, cologne from Ralph Lauren, and caramel tarts that night.

There was something about the way he whispered your name instead of hers like a prayer, how he carefully undressed you and looked at you like you were everything he wanted, how his feverish yet impatient touch burned on your skin, how his tongue felt and tasted like caramel against yours, or how he kissed you and said that he loved you.

You left immediately after he passed out on the pale white sheets of the hotel bed.

“Are you still single?” Atsumu’s habitual greeting came as he swung the door to your office open.

“As are you.” You click the pen in your hand while you try to imagine a layout for the ceremony. “The groom wanted something traditional and his bride wanted something modern… I’m thinking of gray satin—“

“This isn’t the first time we worked together, right?” He immediately plops himself down on the couch of your office. From where he sat, he could see fabric samples scattered and pinned on a desk, three whiteboards that blocked the windows full of table arrangements for the reception at a garden, contact numbers listed and posted all over your window.

It was messy—but you had a system.

“No it isn’t.” You look back at him. Miya Atsumu looked so unbelievably handsome you couldn’t help but stare. He was dressed in a white tee and jeans, it was a simple outfit yet his top accentuated his broad chest and shoulders and the jeans around his thighs—

“The first was at Oikawa’s wedding or was it at Bokuto’s or Hinata’s?”

“No it was at Bokuto’s and then at Hinata’s, then it was at Oikawa’s”

He laughed, remembering how stressed you were handling all those events in a span of a year.

( He wonders if you ever took breaks. You rarely asked for help and never brought your personal life onto the table—Atsumu knew so little about you. )

You wave your hand in front of his face and mention that he was aggressively staring off into the void—too intense for your liking. It was like he was plotting a murder or something.

He then ponders about a life with you.

The nation’s best wedding planner and the nation’s eligible and most desired bachelor? That would certainly be a headline or a cover for a magazine.

Would you soon be wearing that navy blue dress from five weddings ago? The very dress he had given you as a gift as a thank you for making his friends happy?

A smile pulled at his lips, remembering how you teared up in gratitude when he managed to pull some strings and hired another media crew to document the wedding when the one you hired decided to back out on you six hours before the event.

They owed him a favor and he wanted to help you.

When you called him your hero and embraced him so tightly that day, he swore his heart stopped.

He wanted you to look at him like that again; seeing as how exhausted you tend to be when planning these events, you most probably needed a partner to help you out. If he had to stop volleyball, perhaps he could run this business with you—if you would allow it.

“Miya and Miya’s Wedding Planning Service.” Atsumu grins to himself and locks eyes with you. “How does that sound to you?”

“If you and your brother are planning to buy my business from me, it’s not happening.”

“Oh, I was thinking of Miya,” Atsumu’s palm rests on top of his chest. “And Miya.” He then gestures over to you—fingers in your direction and palm facing upward.

A proposal.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion with a tinge of shock, feeling your cheeks burning. “What are you talking about—“

“Just painting a picture.” He leaned into the cushions of your couch. “It looks… less lonely and I see two happy people. What do you see?” There was a sound of an object breaking—or rather, crunching, behind him.

“Not a lot without my glasses.”

The professional athlete fished said object from the cushions and promised to buy you a new pair.

You waved it off.

One minute your face was so close to shriveling like a pathetic raisin within the walls of your office from stress, the next it was relishing in the soft breeze of the beach.

“What do you think?” Atsumu rolls the cuffs of his jeans above his ankles. “They loved driving to this spot every summer. This was where my brother and his girlfriend had their last date.”

He passes you the umbrella and dashes into the water, laughing like a child’s first time on the beach.

“Before he proposed?” The sand crunches under your toes, tailing after him.

The resort nearby was owned by one of your cousins—it would make a great location for the reception.

“I think so.” He splashes the seawater your way and invites you to join him in the water. ( You didn’t have the energy to scold him for dampening the cover of your planner. )

You’ve seen him play on the court before. The way the lights would give him some sort of halo, his sweat glistening on his skin, the triumphant grin on his lips, the way his muscles tensed, his sharp eyes...

But to see him underneath the bright afternoon sun—it was different. Atsumu and the beach were a terrific mix. He was beautiful.

Atsumu was reliable, gentle when he wanted to be, a little crass and informal at times, judges characters without hesitation, inviting, endearing, warm, smelled like autumn, safe and whatnot. There was just something alluring about him.

Setting your shoes and planner next to his, you roll up your slacks just below your knees.

The setter beams and cheers when you step into the waters and approach him. His hand was outstretched for you to take which you timidly did.

“We could have the wedding here.” He glances at the waves foaming on the sand. ( It takes him a moment to remember he was there for his brother’s wedding and not his future one. ) “The bride really loves beaches so I believe we’d get plus points for having it here.“ He continues to ramble on about the possible arrangements.

And then it finally settles in you—you like him... a lot.

“I didn’t think wedding planning with you was going to be entertaining.” He squeezes your hands and softly places his lips on the curves of your knuckles. “You know, my offer for Miya and Miya’s Wedding Planning Service is still open.”

And it honestly doesn’t sound so bad...

Thirty hours until the wedding.

Everything was in place, all toxic invited guests were eliminated, never went above the budget, the bride is excited to officially wear her gown and change her surname, the groom is shaking in anxiety and finally got the acceptance of his father-in-law-to-be, none of the hired staff and crew looked like they were going to back out anytime soon...

Both parties were planning to celebrate the day before the wedding and you were planning to get some rest before you were going to be overwhelmed with pressure and stress that will come in the next couple of hours.

Seven months of stressing over the pressure, planning, calls, negotiations, and connections finally paid off.

Atsumu had other plans though—he wasn’t interested drowning in blinding lights and beer that day. Leaving his brother with his peers, the setter had asked you if it was alright to see you.

How could you ever oppose?

The same taunting greeting came as soon as you both locked eyes but this time, there was a hint of hope in his tone. “Are you still single?”

“Who’s asking?” You lean on your doorframe.

“Me.” He shoves his hands in his pockets—his eyes admiring every inch of your face. “So... will you be wearing the same navy blue dress you wore five weddings ago? That pretty velvet one... the one I gave you.”

“Are we going to keep asking questions—wait what?” Your stomach twists in shock. Navy blue dress? Five weddings ago? Does he actually remember what happened?

“I wasn’t drunk that night and neither were you.” Atsumu rubs the back of his neck, processing the mixed emotions on your face. “I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Atsumu, were you planning to match with me tomorrow?” You could not help but smile at the way the tips of his ears burned red.

“I was.”

“Navy blue is not part of the palette, remember?”

“It should have been.”

His lips tasted like cherries that afternoon.

hey! there's zero esims left for the connecting gaza campaign as of today. i remember you promoting them earlier. could you give them a much needed boost?

oh dang! unfamiliar with that particular campaign, as I always donate via crips for e-sims because it's super easy to do, but regardless let's go people!

some fun sex tropes:

laughing during sex

and/or things going wrong during sex that leads to laughter

sex on a countertop/tabletop/sink because we couldn’t wait to get somewhere with cushions

kissing to stay quiet

biting to stay quiet

one person meticulously doing something entirely for the other’s benefit without expectation or need of reciprocation

“wow i did not know that was A Thing for me until right now and i’m totally fine with that but for the love of god keep doing it”

someone straddling the other while they’re “trying to read” and slowly getting them to put the book away

“you’re only allowed to sit there and watch until i tell you otherwise”

kissing anywhere but the lips

alternatively, touching anywhere but where the person desperately wants to be touched

“we couldn’t find a condom so we’re getting each other off in other ways” sex

anything involving the secretive brushing of fingertips against inner thighs in public spaces

sex with clothes half on/panties still on

the pleasant misuse of ties

sleepy morning kisses that accidentally turn intense

little moments on the rooftop

featuring: KUROO TETSURO

pairing: implied she/her pronouns ?? (

type: SUMI’S ONE-SHOTS

warnings: okay there's a kissing moment and the term "masochist" is used in a joking manner and ummm yeah that's about it tbh

genre: slice of life/fluff

a/n: trying to start writing little things so i can get back into the flow of writing again idky i haven't had any motivation recently :((

"hey," a voice called out to you in the night.

you turned your head to see the bedhead haired boy, standing at the rooftop entrance door. he was in his familiar nekoma volleyball team jacket with a pair of checkered warm pajama pants.

you had situated yourself on top of blanket and a few other blankets that were wrapped around you. "hey."

he walked over to where you were sitting and took off his shoes, gently stepping onto the blanket. he crossed his legs as he sat down. you opened the one blanket you had wrapped around you just so he could scooch himself in next to you.

"god you and your long limbs. so difficult to deal with," you mumbled as he tried to settle within the blanket.

"hey! leave me and my long limbs alone," he huffed with a pout. the both of you bursted into laughter with a half smile etched on your face that he grew to love and cherish.

looking away from each other, you looked out into the view in front. ithe both of you could see the lights from the downtown skyscrapers into the distance.

in front of you, though, you could see your neighborhood lit up with the usual and casual street lights. occasionally, there would be a car or bicyclist going by but it was relatively quiet during this time.

as the both of you stared into the distance, you leaned your head onto his shoulder. his body tensed for a moment but you eventually felt it soothe down.

"mmm you smell nice," you told the boy. "did you put on some new body lotion or something?"

"yeah. obassan bought some new body lotion but i don't think she knows which one is my regular one but it's okay. i like this one though," he explained.

"you smell like that rose scented perfume i showed you at the mall the other day," you told him.

he sniffed the sleeve of one of his hands. "how do you even smell that? it clearly smells like strawberries."

"does not."

"does too."

"it literally said on the package 'strawberry scented.'"

“…”

he looked over at you, his smirk growing on his face. “you don’t wanna admit that i’m right huh?”

"i hate you."

"no you don't. otherwise, we wouldn't be here now, would we?" he said with that mischievous grin on his face.

"stop it or i'll plant my fist on your nose," you rolled your eyes.

he comically put his hand on his forehead to show his pain and agony. "are you a masochist or something? you're always putting me through pain huh?"

you laughed and lightly flicked your finger on his cheek which had you laughing but him wincing in slight pain which turned into eventual chuckles.

he starts mumbling something under his breath. you couldn't seem to catch them though.

"hm?" you responded.

"i love being with you. so damn much." he replied.

you looked up at him as he continued to look towards the scenery in front. you lifted your head off his shoulder which had him confused, forcing him to look at you.

and then you took his face in your hands and kissed him. it wasn't those messy, desperate kisses that you had when the both of you made out. it was a kiss that was slow. and passionate. and in a way, comforting. a kiss that explained more than words could ever.

he slowly responded back with his hands wrapping around your waist. he pulled you in closer to him, trying to get you as close as he could to you.

he pulled away and a blush started to etch its way onto his face. you couldn't help but let the snarky comment come out of your lips. "aww is my favorite pretty boy blushing?"

with no response, you realized he may have been a bit too flustered your sudden kiss.

you forced his face to face you. looking into those golden pools in his eyes that you always sought comfort and joy in, he smirked and leaned in to kiss you back.

“i'm always blushing for my pretty girl.”

HEY who’s following me …

Nanami gets a strange feeling.

it’s in his bones, a simple vibration that he knows isn’t physically there, but it jitters still, slowly growing stronger and stronger. It’s a memory he can’t place, but so strong he can taste; it’s copper and sweat, the undercurrent of panic-

“Kento?” 

Nanami blinks away the thought and presses his thumbs into the bridge of his nose to calm the headache that’s started. When he looks up, you’re pushing the screen door open and joining him on the back porch.

Sunset has just begun, casting a golden glow against your skin. The ocean’s foam almost glows with sherbet tones as it laps the shore, so far and yet so close he can taste the salt.

“You okay, dear?”

The feeling hasn’t subsided; it rumbles stronger, like a train powering down the tracks.

“Of course, just tired.” Nanami places his book on the railing. The worn thin, water stained pages flutter in the breeze.

“Dinner’s ready if you’re up for it,” you say, “Yuuji’s setting the table right now.”

He pushes off of the chair with a grunt, his knees protesting the movement. The strange feeling sticks to his bones, begs to be acknowledged-

“All by himself?” Nanami pulls you in by the hip and presses a kiss into your temple as he passes, tugging you back inside. The door creaks closed, tapping his but when he doesn’t move fast enough. “When did he get so big?”

“I don’t know, but it breaks my heart a little!” you croon, “Our baby isn’t a baby anymore.”

“Well, don’t fret. If everything goes according to plan,” Nanami catches your mouth against his this time, “We’ll have another baby to whine about soon.”

You shine at that, but your smile quickly falters when you meet his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, “You seem off.”

“Yes, just-” Nanami looks outside. The beach is the same as always, forever changing with each wave. Yuuji is singing to himself in the dining room, some jaunty thing he learned in preschool, though he’s not quite getting all of the words correct.

“I just had the feeling that I almost didn’t have all of this.”

liv i have a question about ur dear suna,, in most fics he's smoking a juul/cigarette so does he ever blow that smoke into readers eyes to be a little shit after inhaling ?!

suna's favourite game is "hide the juul" where without his knowledge or permission you take his juul and put hide it somewhere without him knowing (esp in your own pocket) and then when he asks if you've seen it you say no and then watch him search for it in confusion and even help him out looking under pillows and stuff and then when he's at his wits end bc he cannot for the life of him figure out where it went u just take one like long drag off it and he hears the crackle and turns around with the least impressed look on his face bc u got him AGAIN (trust me he loves this game, keep doing it.)

With a single word from Netanyahu, the crossing was closed. With a single word, two million people were starved and buried! We are just numbers in the archives of this dark world. How long will this injustice continue? Our lives in Gaza are like those of prisoners. No food, no water, no electricity, no medical treatment. No basic necessities of life.

Miniature cigarette pack editions of classic literature by Tank Books. The Kafka pack contains The Metamorphosis and In The Penal Colony.

trying to become a wine couple with shouto and the two of you sit on the floor in the living room each with a healthily poured glass in hand while you try (and fail) to describe the tasting notes.

"it's very..." you run your tongue over your lips, as though catching the last drop that clings to them might be a breakthrough. "...dry."

shouto swallows another mouthful, his nose twitching a little at the taste—he doesn't seem to like it, but he's trying (mostly for your sake.) he considers your point, and then adds thoughtfully: "i think it's pretty wet actually."