Atsumu Love - Blog Posts

miya atsumu x gn!reader, suggestive

“what are ya thinkin’ about?”

“how soft your hair is,” you hum back in reply, carding your fingers through your lover’s hair. atsumu, fresh out of the shower and smelling of peaches, freezes in his spot between your legs — obviously guilty.

“ya like my hair?” he asks.

you ignore him.

“have you been using my conditioner, ‘tsumu?”

“…what’s mine is mine, and what’s yers is mine, babe.”

you suppress a laugh. “who said that?”

“it’s in our wedding vows.”

“we’re not married!”

atsumu turns, his arms finding their usual place around your waist while a familiar lazy grin pulls at his lips. “not married—yet.”

“silly goose.” you bring your hand up to flick at his forehead gently, suppressing yet another chuckle at how your lover scrunches up his handsome face. then you kiss away the crease between his brows, peck the tip of his nose, and finally press a big noisy smack to his lips — complete with an exaggerated “mwah!” that makes him giggle boyishly.

“what are you thinking about, then?” you ask when you pull back.

“hmmm.” a tiny pout pulls at his lips. you see the mischievous glint in his eyes — he’s pretending to think. “i’m thinkin’ ‘bout yer tits in my mouth.”

“miya atsumu!”

“oh, uh, please? yer tits in my mouth… please?”

“you’re terrible.”

“that wasn’t a no.”

you feel atsumu’s arms tighten around your middle, shoulders flexing under his thin cotton shirt, and your breath hitches when his thumbs slip under the hem your shirt to rub at the sensitive skin of your waist.

“…no, it wasn’t.”

“Gimme a kiss,” Atsumu murmurs, deep voice low in your ear. His hands are on your hips, fingers digging into the softness of your skin. 

You pull him away from you, hands cupping his face and thumb running along his cheek in the way you know he likes. You raise an eyebrow, smiling softly, “I’m wearing lipstick, you know.” This causes his eyes to drop to your lips, gaze hungry, suddenly reminded of the fact. 

“So?” he asks, eyes flicking from yours and back to your lips. “Let everyone know I belong ta ya.” 

“You’re going to walk around with my lips printed on your face?” 

He nods eagerly, ducking to bury his face in your neck. “I’d be the happiest man alive if I got ta walk around like that.” 

This makes you laugh, your heart melt, and you reposition your arms around his shoulders to squeeze him closer to you. “You’re going to be late for practice, ‘Tsumu.”

“Just one kiss, baby. Even if it's on the cheek.” 

You sigh, but you know that he knows you’re only faking your reluctance. “Kay.” 

He pulls away from you, giving you his right cheek, and tapping his pointer finger against it with a giddy smile. You make sure to dramatize your actions, making an amplified noise when pulling away, laughing when he gives you his other cheek, and repeating your actions until he finally lowers his mouth to yours. 

He makes sure to deepen the kiss and only chases after you when you pull away, giving you little pecks and placing kisses all around your face, playfully biting your nose when it scrunches in fake disdain. When he finally separates from you, you take notice of the bright red lip marks on his cheeks, and the red tint left on his lips that are stretched into a grin. 

“How do I look?” 

“Like you are definitely mine.” 

His smile widens. “Great. ‘Xactly what I was goin’ for.”