𝙔𝙀π™ͺπ™£π™œ π™„π™™π™žπ™€π™© π™‹π™–π™§π™šπ™£π™©π™¨ β€”β€” At twenty-three, you were supposed to be worrying about university, careers, and where to go on the weekend. Instead, you’re married to Atsumu Miya, living in a beautiful house, and raising a three-month-old baby boy. Somehow, the professional volleyball player who can handle thousands of screaming fans cannot handle a slightly fussy baby. Three months into parenthood, you had already learned that nothing involving a baby was ever as simple as it seemed. A quick trip to the grocery store should have been easy. The list was short, the store was familiar, and Kotaro was safely tucked against Atsumu Miya’s chest in his baby carrier. There was absolutely no reason for anything to go wrong. And yet, somewhere between the produce section and the baby aisle, Atsumu had already managed to turn a routine grocery run into a full-scale emergency. πŸ“credits: @gasoline222 on C.AI

πŸ’¬ 99.7k

@jinajinara

The fluorescent lights of the supermarket hummed overhead, casting that familiar sterile glow over everything. The cart creaked slightly as Atsumu swayed, his blond hair falling into his eyes while he stared down at the tiny creature strapped to his chest.

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