sunghyunjaes

[sunghyunjaes]

━━ ❝ HE LIKES IT WET 'N' MESSY ❞

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...synopsis : the more you think about it, the more you realize you love how messy atsumu is…

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...cw : m. atsumu x fem!reader, wet and messy, ovėrstimulation, dirty talk, marathon sėx, desperation, playful banter, unprotected sēx, excessive cūm (?), atsumu's undiscovered breēding kınk, begging, messy kissing, atsumu miya can't shut the fuck up

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...lunar's note : another revamping of an old work of mine where i just. make this even more debauched and filthier than it was before !!

if there’s one word to describe atsumu miya, it’s messy.

sometimes, he leaves his clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed, waiting until you playfully kick him in the butt to pick up his things and put them in the laundry.

he's also so messy when it comes to eating, always having food on his face, causing you to tease him as he tries to wipe it off, completely missing.

it doesn't bother you that much, having already grown used to his messy nature.

it does bother you, however, when he makes a big mess of the sheets. he's always ignoring your whines for him to get a towel to put down or else you'd make him do laundry for the rest of the week.

atsumu always gives the same damn response, a long whine of your name, telling you he’ll clean it up after.

after all, atsumu doesn't think he can bring himself to pull out of your slick heat, not when you feel this fucking good. he can't remember the last time he got to fuck you like this, messy and desperate without worrying about needing to get up early the next day to catch a bus or plane for a game.

he swears he almost forgot how warm you were, how sweet your voice sounds when you were this close to him, how pretty your face looks even when you were looking at him rather annoyed despite being fucked.

“’t-'tsumie, the towel—!��

“baby, nooooo, don’ make me pull out, don' it feel good? d'ya really want me to stop?”

fuck, you can't lie, it feels good, it feels so fucking good, the way he slows his hips to torture you with the slow drag of his cock, making you feel every inch pull out...and then slowly slide back in, a wet squelch signally his hips pressing fully against you.

but that doesn't stop you from being annoyed, knowing your fresh sheets were already a mess.

“d'awww, don’ look at me like that, sweetcheeks. tsumtsum's gonna make ya feel reaaal good if y'forget about the damn sheets,” atsumu huffs, his sweaty hands grabbing the back of your thighs and pushing them closer to your upper body.

its sinful the way he manages to slip in even deep into you, his teeth digging into his bottom lip to prevent the pitiful little whimper from leaving him.

“l-lemme make a mess, baby girl, please?”

you want to roll your eyes at his request, because it's a little too late for him to ask you that. his cum from the first round is already dripping out your stuffed cunt, leaking onto the freshly washed bed sheets under you.

it doesn't matter that his sticky cock head is messing up your insides by pressing against all the spots that have you gushing. you just put these sheets on the bed!

giving him the best pout you can manage, you huff, "f-fine—o-oh!"

that pretty little moan shouldn't cause him to react so excitedly, but he can't help it. hearing your approval has him giggling, he knew you'd give in eventually, and he's going to make sure you don't regret it.

besides, hearing you, his sweet lil' princess, try to sound all tough and serious with his cock deep inside your hot gummy walls that were sucking him in with each thrust is making him so dizzy.

you are too damn cute for your own good.

he can't hold back anymore, not when you're so cute. his hands squeeze your thighs before he starts to pound into you, savoring the way you keen for him, mouth open as you chant his name so needily.

you aren't the only one being loud, poor atsumu giving up on holding back all those pretty noises of his, the way your tight walls squeeze and massage his throbbing dick so sweetly making it literally impossible to stay quiet.

“f-fuck, 'tsumu, ‘s too deep, ’s coming out more,” you whimper, trying to lift your hips to stop his cum from leaking out of you.

the wetness of your overstimulated cunted paired with his leaking cum causes the room to be filled with loud, wet, squelching, causing you to look down.

you suck in a breath, a hot pang of pleasure shooting up your spine at the sight between your legs. atsumu’s stupidly big dick is an absolute creamy mess that only seems to get messier the more he moves, pulling and pushing the sticky mixture of your cum in and out.

“listen to that, dolly, s' fuckin’ dirty. mmnh, tight l-lil' cunt can’t hold all my cum?”

god, atsumu doesn't ever shut up, he's always such a talker, knowing how embarrassed it makes you.

“c’mon, say it, angel, say it f' me, pretty please?”

“a…atsumu, i can’t hold all of your cum…’s comin’ out, ‘tsumu, you're making me messy.”

he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it, god, he really wasn't, but you did and now his eyes are fluttering as they roll back into his skull.

don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, he chants to himself, feeling himself nearly lose it just from your words.

a choked groan forces its way out of his mouth, you're just too fucking hot for him. he can't think of anything but you, your pretty face, your soft body, and your insanely wet cunt.

“s’okay, s’okay, fuck, i’ll-i'll fuck ya, pumpkin, 't-'tsumi's gonna fuck ‘n’ fill ya up over ‘n’ over again, 'til y'can't keep it all inside, gotta stuff you with my cum, make you cream around my cock, need it, need it.”

atsumu is absolutely gone, now fully pressing into you as he fucks you into the mattress. each thrust makes you cry his name, fingers digging into his back as he puts you into a mating press, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, so ready to pump another hot load into you.

it's too much, the drag of his cock and the way it was so deep inside you. tears prick the corners of your eyes, each thrust making your brain slowly turn into nothing but mush. you hate the mess, you really do, but hearing atsumu so desperate does something for you.

you...you want it, you want him to mess you up.

your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you moan and pant against his ear.

“a-atsumu, honey,” you coo to him, savoring the stuttering of his hips and the quiet hiss of ‘fuck’ you get out of him from the sound of your voice. “please, please fuck me more, fuck me, fill me up, stuff my pussy with your cum, h-honey, mark me nice a-an' deep, okay?”

everyone in the world knows that atsumu miya would give you the world if you asked. so you want to be filled up nice and full? then, he'll give you what you want, take such good care of you and make sure you feel him dripping out of you for days.

“yeah, yeah, fuck, good girl. take this cock, take it like a good girl, so good, my pretty girl, fuck! s-she takes this cock so well, wish you could see how good ya look stretched 'round me like this, baby, ohmyfuckin'goddd.”

you can't stop yourself, pulling him into a sloppy, desperate, the need to taste him overwhelming as your hands get tangled in his hair. he pulls away, panting into your mouth as his thrusts get harder and sloppier.

it's just a fucking mess now, your slick and cream and his cum are coating his abdomen and thighs, dripping everywhere. each thrust has you splashing on him from how fucking wet you are, and atsumu feels like he's gonna fucking faint if he tries to hold off his orgasm for much longer.

“'tsumu, 't-tsumu, 'tsumu—!"

“t-tell me ya want it, baby girl, p-please? c-c'mon, tell me y'want my fuckin' cum inside ya, n-need ta hear it,” he begs against your mouth, eyes watery as desperate tears threaten to spill.

you can't think, can't give a coherent response as you babble, the word ‘please’ falling from your lips over and over again. you just want him to stop talking and kiss you again as he pumps your needy hole full of his seed, until you can't take anymore, until it spurts out from around his cock.

but then, he stops.

a strangled sob leaves you the second his hips stop moving. it's borderline painful, you're so fucking close. just a few more thrusts and you'd be creaming all over his thick cock, tugging and pulling on his hair as your slick squirts all over him.

but no, atsumu fucking stopped.

you look at him with teary eyes, silently begging him to explain. this is just unfair to both of you! but atsumu only gives you a cocky grin, and you have to stop yourself from flicking his nose.

he grants you some relief, rolling his hips gently as his hand slides up to cup the back of your head as he pepper your sweaty cheek in open mouthed kisses. he's so annoying, you love him so bad.

“dunno, pumpkin, don' think ya begged enough f'me. hmm...i’ll give ya one more shot, baby…tell me how fucking much ya want my fuckin’ cum in yer pretty cunt and make ya a creamy lil' mess."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[sunghyunjaes]

hope isn’t something you just have, it’s something you sink your teeth into like an animal so it doesn’t get away

[sunghyunjaes]

I would like to apology in advance

Queen never cry💞

[sunghyunjaes]

SPOILER! My S Class Hunters

Han Yoojin is giving birth to his first son, Han Gyeol

reference : Queen Never Cry

[sunghyunjaes]

━━ ❝ it's sticky, toshi... ❞

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : you help ushijima finally realize that he's got a breeding kink

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...cw : u. wakatoshi x fem!reader, dirty talk, messy and wet, teasing, marathon sex, pet names, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy, ushijima can't stop cumming

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : haikyuu save me, save me ushijima wakatoshi, SAVE ME !! anyways hi i spent 150$ on ushijima merch yesterday and i don't regret it, so say hello to my haikyuu phase coming back !!!

ushijima having a breeding kink isn't a surprise to you at all.

what is surprising is how long it takes for him to figure it out.

sure, at first it wasn't clear, but after being with him for so long, you quickly pick up on whenever he'd mutter in your ear as he slid his stupidly big cock inside of you, saying how badly he wished he could cum inside of you instead in the condom.

afterwards, he's so focused on cleaning you up and making sure you felt good and satisfied, you don't get a chance to question him on it. not that you were complaining, ushijima is so cute when he's asking if you need anything and constantly reminds you to get up and go use the bathroom.

it's even cuter when he realizes you can't walk.

"ah. i'm sorry, i didn't realize how hard i went...here, let me help."

eventually, you to suggest things to ushijima, trying to test out the waters with him.

you start by just asking if he’d want to fuck you without the condom, what he thought about cumming inside, even jokingly saying you’d make him a dad one day.

but it seems like that last part was swimming around his head for a while...he can't get the thought of you getting chubby and round with his kid out of your head. and knowing he'd be able to take care of you all the time? that thought alone made him shiver a little.

what can he say, he loves doting on you more than anything.

however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.

"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."

"..."

"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"

he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.

next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.

"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"

you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.

he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.

"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."

it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.

“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.

"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”

with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.

ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.

but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.

ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.

“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.”

“I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.

“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[sunghyunjaes]

[sunghyunjaes]

Could I ask for Akaashi, Osamu, Kenma, and Bokuto + them giving oral?

❥ til your teeth rot! | akaashi, osamu, kenma, bokuto

warnings: timeskip! characters, fem! reader, cunnilingus (duh), praise, degrading, overstimulation, face sitting, semi-public sex, osamu's accent, kenma is v lazy, fingering

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 1.8k

a/n: i wrote this when i was having tummy issues so i'm sorry if its awful

got a request? my ask are open!

❥ Keiji Akaashi | Slow and steady

Akaashi eats your pussy like it’s made of glass like it could break at any moment. Every flick of his tongue, every sucking motion on your clit is calculated based on your previous reaction. Did you mewl louder when he harshly sucked on your sensitive bud? He’ll apply more pressure next time, hopefully earning another one of your adorable moans. 

Just because he was calculated to give pleasure does not mean he was inexperienced or selfish. Absolutely not. He could never dream of denying you anything you so plainly desired. All you had to was flash him those beautiful, sparking eyes of yours, and you would be on your back, legs spread, and moaning like an amateur pornstar while Akaashi made you cum for the second time that day.

He never rushes you through your orgasm, he doesn’t think that being intimate with you is some kind of game. It’s a puzzle that he simply wants to solve. His tongue is achingly slow against your folds, making the most precious moments between the two of you last longer. He is savoring each bit of your sweet nectar, and he fucking loves it. 

K-Keiji!” you sobbed, your hands flying to his neat mess of dark curls, desperate for purchase. Your legs were wrapped around his shoulders, just in case he would try to flee. Akaashi fucking loved it when you trapped him between your legs, it made him feel like the two of you were the last people on earth. “Gonna cum!”

Akaashi smiled against your folds, his tongue pausing momentarily. “I know, pretty girl. Wanna fall apart on my tongue again? I love it when you do that.” he praised, diving back to make out with your core. His tongue slipped past your entrance, the tip of the wet muscle gliding in and out with ease. His soft hands squeezed the inside of your thighs, rolling the supple and soft flesh between his fingers. 

Your head was rested on the pillow beneath you, hair growing knotted and messy whilst your thighs trembled in Akaashi’s grasp. His nose rubbed against your clit so deliciously, the additional stimulation pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm washed over you as you cried in pleasure, his name leaving your lips over and over again. Akaashi purred at the sensation of your release coating his mouth and tongue, pulling away once your high had subsided.

“Amazing job, pretty girl. You did so well for me.” he praised, wiping your slick from his chin. He leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips, lingering just long enough for you to taste your own release. “See how delicious you are, darling? So unbelievably perfect for me.”

❥ Osamu Miya | No time to lose

Osamu eats your pussy like he has somewhere to be at all times like he’s in a hurry. Being the owner of a popular rice ball spot keeps him occupied most of the time (as well as dealing with his pain-in-the-ass older brother), so when he finds a free moment to be intimate with you, he makes sure he makes himself efficient. 

Even though Osamu is the more relaxed and lazy twin, he’s never lazy in the bedroom. His usually tired and ‘over this’ attitude would melt away the second you two shared a longing kiss, his body being taken over by some kind of insatiable desire. He’s driven by his motivation to make you scream his name for the shop next to him to hear. His tongue lashes at your pussy like a man starving in the middle of a desert. 

If there’s a rare lull in customers entering and exiting his onigiri shop, he’ll change the ‘open’ sign to a ‘come back later’ sign and text you to be in the back of his shop ASAP. And, of course, you’re there in less than ten minutes, your skirt flipped up and your hands supporting your weight on the steel countertop as his tongue ravishes your cunt, drinking in your slick like honey.

“Stay fuckin’ still,” Osamu groaned into your heat, slapping the inside of your thighs. “I can’t make ya cum if yer wigglin’, sweets.” that was a lie. He was a liar. He could make you cum regardless of how much you were moving, he didn’t matter to him. But if you writhed around so much that it caused some ingredients to fall onto the floor, then it became a problem. 

“S-sorry ‘Samu! Fuck!” you moaned, your hands gripping onto the steel material of the counter for dear life as his tongue hungrily, your sweet nectar coating his tongue beautifully. It was the best alcohol he could ever wish to taste. “M’close!”

“Ya better fuckin’ be. I only got five minutes before those fuckers wonder why the shop ain’t open,” his words sent vibrations through your core, your clit painfully pulsating. The rough pad of this thumb swirled around the sensitive bud, pressing against it harshly. “Be a good girl and fuckin’ cum already, yeah? Gotta open up soon, sweets.”

Osamu finally flattened his tongue in the way that drove you over the edge, still swirling your bud with his rough thumb. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned, lapping up your release eagerly. “Taste so fuckin’ good for me.”

He pulled himself out from between your thighs, wiping off his chin with the backside of his hand. Osamu stood up and pecked the top of your head, playfully slapping your soaked cunt. “Get outta here, I got customers to serve.” he also had to sanitize his countertop hard. 

❥ Kenma Kozume | Suffocate him

Kenma will only eat you out if you sit on his face. Not hover, not dangle, fucking sit on it. Despite being a CEO and a popular streamer, this man is lazy as hell. Typically, you do all the work during sex. Bouncing on his cock, sucking him off, etc. But on the rare occasion Kenma wants to eat you out, you still have to pull a heavy load. He is not getting up off his ass by any means, so you might as well cooperate with him. He’s stubborn as a fucking mule.

Kenma was a selfish lover, and he didn’t want to change that. He liked being taken care of and not putting much effort into it. He’s already so successful. Why should he do more work than he already is? That’s so exhausting. But how could he refuse when his pretty girlfriend practically paws at him to help get her off? He’s lying on the bed in a minute, gesturing to you to tear off those pretty red panties and take away his ability to breathe.

“Ride my fucking face,” Kenma groans into your core, squeezing your ass with hands as your hips buck into his mouth wildly. He loved it when you got like this, so desperate and needy for his tongue. His tongue plunged into your sobbing cunt over and over again, eliciting the cutest moans from your pretty lips.

“Fuck, Kenma!” you whimpered, your hands grasping the mahogany headboard like it was the last lifeboat on board. Your ground your clit onto his nose, mewling pathetically as his tongue lashed at your most intimate parts. Kenma savored your sweet honey, adoring how it nicely coated his tongue. Maybe he should make you fit on his face more often. 

His deep brown hair stuck to his forehead, the skin slick with sweat as the tip of his tongue traced meaningless shapes on your clit, occasionally nibbling at the sensitive bud. He knew you were close. The way your entire body was shaking was a dead fucking giveaway. That, and his name practically being screamed repeatedly, was also a good sign. “Gonna cum? Do it, princess. Make a mess on me.”

And you did, your orgasm spilling all over your boyfriend’s cute face. Your writing stopped, with Kenma slapped your ass, indicating that you should get off. You sighed and chose to straddle his lap, pecking his nose gently. “Thank you, baby, that was amazing.”

“Did you think we were finished?” Kenma groaned, resting his arms behind his head. “You got me really fucking hard, princess. How about you take care of that for me, yeah?”

❥ Kotaro Bokuto | Pure addiction

Boktuo fucking loves eating you out. Whenever you mentioned that you were horny, he would drag you into his bed and plunge his face into your thighs until he got you to coat your inner thighs with your release. He could never get enough of you and how good you tasted. How you would only crave his tongue and his fingers on your most imitate parts. 

He didn’t fucking care when or where you were horny, he was more than happy to make you scream in pleasure. Whispering to him in a cafe? He locked the bathroom and had you sitting on the sick, your dress bunched up at your hips, and your stockings ripped so your soaking cunt could be displayed just for him. Woke up at two in the morning from a wet dream? No problem, he had you riding his face while he jerked his fat cock to the sounds you made. Did you also wanna suck him off? No problem, baby! You were sixty-nining until the rooster screeched. Truly, Bokuto was addicted to eating you out. 

“Why are you covering your mouth, baby? I wanna hear your moans,” Bokuto groaned into your cunt, eagerly lapping up your slick like a man gone mad. Your trembling body was pinned against the bathroom door of your favorite restaurant, your skirt pushed upwards, and your soaked panties dangled off your ankles while Bokuto whispered pure filth into your cunt. “Don't you wanna let all those people out there know how good my tongue can make you feel?”

“Ngh, we’ll get in trouble, Kotaro!” you whispered, doing your best to keep your voice at an acceptable level while your boyfriend spelled his name with your tongue, eliciting a sharp squeak in return. “F-fuck, don’t stop!”

“Yeah? You wanna cum on my face in a public bathroom, hm? God, you’re so fucking hot. How’d I get so lucky?” he purred against your clit, swirling the tip of his tongue over the throbbing bud. “You taste so fucking good, holy shit. Way better than lunch.”

His index and ring finger bullied their way inside of you, curling at the spot that made you instantly cum all over his face. He didn’t stop sucking on your folds when your orgasm hit, his fingers still scissoring deep inside of your broken cunt. Your hand slapped over your mouth, covering out your molten cries of ecstasy.

“Good fucking girl, I’m so proud of you.” Bokuto praised, licking off his tongue as he stared at your ruined state. He pulled your panties up and your dress down, kissing your forehead tenderly. “Now, do you wanna go back home and cum again, hm?

[sunghyunjaes]

time skip! bokuto kōtarō + fem! reader | mdni | 1,578 words | established relationship, mirror sex, fingering, creampie, implied insecure reader, bokuto wants to show you how pretty you look for him <3

bokuto has been watching you all night, amber eyes following your fingers as they run over the stem of the wine glass, your hand wrapping around the thin strap sliding down your shoulder, chewing on your lips as you scan the room for him. he knows you hate it when he stares, but he can’t help it. you’re the prettiest girl in the room. the prettiest girl in the world. he’d look at you only for the rest of his life if he could. and maybe that’s impossible, but he can look at you only for the rest of the night.

now standing in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, he should be focusing on unbuttoning your dress. it’s already a difficult enough task for him, his fingers too large and clumsy to deal with the tiny, slippery buttons that run across the length of the dress. but how can he? you look breathtaking, skin glowing in the dimmed warm light and nearly feverish to the touch. maybe it was the wine that you had over dinner. or maybe you’re just flustered at how his eyes are raking over your form in the mirror, how his tongue peeks out just slightly to wet his lips, how he leans in to inhale the scent of you, hair tickling his nose. it’s both, probably. the feeling of your skin burns against his knuckles. and his breathing becomes more laboured with each breath as he fumbles with the delicate fabric. 

“you’re so beautiful,” kōtarō whispers before he presses his lips to the top of your ear, then trails little kisses down the side of your neck, your eyes meeting as he nips at your shoulder. he wraps his arms around your chest, brute strength keeping you in place. “do you know how beautiful you are, hm?”

he never tries to hide his feelings. his love is unreserved, so freely expressed, so overwhelming. and you yearn to bask in his warm, bright light, but your body is frozen in place. and you can’t silence the nagging voice that’s always questioning if you’re good enough for him. “kōtarō,” clutching at his arms, you try to squirm away from his grip, “please let go.”

but he’s slightly tipsy and very much in love with you, so he isn’t going to give up. “let me show you how i see you.” the faint whisper of his voice as he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck makes your skin tingle. it feels like you’re holding his beating heart in your hands. and you yearn to see yourself through his eyes, shimmering and perfect. he waits until you nod to slip the straps down your shoulders and lets the beautiful dress he bought for you pool on the floor. 

you can hear your own heartbeat and the blood rushing through your veins as you stand in front of the mirror, bare aside from a pair of seamless panties. eyes darting across the room as you try to focus on anything but your naked form and how embarrassing it is to be so exposed.

his hands move to cup your breasts gently, thumbs circling your pebbling nipples. “they’re so pretty. look.” the pads of his digits sink into the fat of your tits as he squeezes them, pinching your hardened nubs between his thumb and forefinger until your eyes meet once again. “fit perfectly in my hands, see?”

words stick to your throat as you take in the reflection of your bodies intertwined. and you start to understand the appeal. your body looks so soft against the wall of corded muscles behind you. and his eyes are more of a burning fire than amber as he looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists in the universe. like he would die for you.

something about how he’s still completely clothed makes the blood rush to your head. and you start to notice little details, your chest heaving, lips swollen from biting down on them, and you think you might look like the heroine of one of those erotic novels you like to read in secret. and it makes your pussy flutter with excitement.

bokuto traces your spine, marking his way down with sloppy kisses as he kneels behind you. then his lips move to the back of your thighs and he tugs your soaked panties down until they’re lying around your feet. and you’re completely naked and his for the taking.

“you’re the prettiest girl in the whole world,” he says it like it’s an indisputable fact. and you believe he means it. and he believes it too. 

arms scramble to cover your bits as he pushes the tan leather armchair behind you to face the mirror. but then it all happens so quickly - bokuto sitting down, grabbing you by the hips to pull you onto his lap, and then forcing your feet on the armrests. your legs stretched so wide it’s painful. 

his lips are grazing your ear again. “fuck, baby, look at you.” your gaze is trained on his hand as it moves across your hip bone and down your pelvis. thick fingers teasing your plump pussy lips. skin so soft he almost feels like his touch might spoil it. “you see how cute your little cunt is?”

a pearlescent drop of slick drips from your hole, and god, you look sinful. like temptation itself. you should be embarrassed. gushing and throbbing at the tiniest of compliments. but you don’t. the only thing on your mind is how you want your boyfriend to do every nasty thing you’ve ever read, seen, and imagined in your most desperate moments. 

his grip on your chin keeps your eyes on the mirror while he uses his other hand to play with your pussy. you’re a whiny mess as he slowly runs his middle finger down your slit, cooing against your jaw. 

“is my baby needy?” 

you whimper at the friction as he dips two digits inside you. it’s cruel how he’s moving so slowly, working you open around his fingers. stretching your walls, but avoiding the soft, spongy spot you’re aching for him to touch. he notices your frustration by the way you squirm in his lap, the plush of your ass pressing into his dick which is so painfully hard at this point. but he can’t just give you what you want. you have to ask for it, take it for yourself.

“be a good girl and tell me what you want.”

brain foggy with lust, you scramble to string a few words together. “wan’ your cock, please, please, please.” it comes out slurred and pathetic but it’s good enough for him. he’s yours.

you buck your hips helplessly as he presses his length to your folds. and he’s going to give you just what you want but he’s never seen you so desperate for him, so horny and needy and he just wants a moment to memorise every detail. it’s the look in your eyes as you watch yourself grinding on his cock that almost stops his breath. he can’t hold back any longer. 

so he sheathes himself inside your tight pussy in one stroke and starts bouncing you on his cock, not sparing even a second for you to adjust to how he’s just about splitting you in half. but you forget all about it as your brain becomes foggy with the mess of your two bodies pressed together. his forearms straining and veins protruding from the effort of lifting you up and down so eagerly. his thick thighs spread and twitching below you. and then, the way your tits are bouncing and his large hands on your hips. and, fuck, the way his fat cock is stretching you open, your cunt fluttering around the girth. you think you can feel him all the way in your belly, no mercy as he’s bullying your insides. 

it feels even better when you allow yourself to let go. lips wet and parted and spilling the most delicious moans he has ever heard in his life. he’s not any less of a needy mess than you. “you’re taking me so well, fuck.” lips pressed to the crook of your neck and panting. “you’re such a good fucking girl.”

the most obscene sloshing, squishing sounds fill the room as your little pussy is leaking slick around his cock, dripping all the way down to his balls. “the best girl.” your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, so drunk on his cock, drunk on his praise. “the best pussy.” he’s nearly incoherent himself. and when he feels your cunt throbbing and clamping down around him, he pulls you down by the waist, bucking his hips up into your ass at an almost brutal pace. “f-fuck, let me hear how - fuck,” something about the way his voice cracks makes your walls squeeze tighter. “how sweet you sound.” and all you can do is blubber as he fucks you through your orgasm and fills your pussy so full of cum that it’s dripping down his length. and you think you might pass out.

but it’s not enough. you want more. you want to be stuffed full to the brim for as long as you can keep your eyes open. “i wan’ more cum.” your hips seem to move on their own as you whine and paw at bokuto’s thighs. “please just o-one more.”

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[sunghyunjaes]

CHIROPRACTOR BOKUTO KŌTARŌ

• Best friend/Tutor

• Warnings: grinding, pussy eatin!!, female reader (please don’t trust anything scientific I write, this is barely researched and I am not licensed).

• Summary: Bokuto wasn’t physically feeling well, but due to his good nature, pushed it aside. Although you were to help him with studies, you were far from blind. Luckily your major was almost perfect for the moment. He let you test your skills on him, so your hands roamed his body. Maybe it came off more sexual than intended…

“Ughhh…” Bokuto groans.

A creak sounds from far behind you, alluding at the door opening. The sound of the fan gyrating in the background of the apartment slowly dissipates with the air, you assume, because stepping out right after his hot shower then being hit with the cold is the least pleasant thing in the world to him.

You take a sip of the lemonade that resides on the coffee table in front of you. The giant living room TV played whatever sitcom was aired ever since Bo kindly got you as comfy as possible for when he got back, but with your head buried in a book and a gel pen in your hand, it was of no use to you. Finally dressed, he returned.

However, he returned with his right hand placed on his left collarbone, rotating the left shoulder accordingly.

“Are you alright?” You ask. You didn’t look up. Thank god for your intensified range of peripheral vision from reading, seeing the man beside you with naturally fallen hair and water droplets still journeying through curves of his body in full attention would absolutely break you.

Yes, he was your best friend—but you were still a woman with eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Must’ve just overdid it at practice,” he casually replies. You recognized the tone. Despite his loud tendencies, he was being quiet with you because of the item in your criss-crossed lap. The word “just” also apprised you not to worry.

He leans back on the couch with his full attention gravitating towards you.

“Alright Professor, what’s first?” Professor.

Bokuto was the most careless person you knew. He was also the most careful person you knew. Yes he was clumsy, yes he lost things easily, and maybe doesn’t understand others—but he tries. Despite many beliefs, he was extremely attentive on and off the court; his ability to read the room peaks anyone you’ve ever held conversation with. Most of the time he just willfully ignores it. He cared tremendously for anything that was close to him, hence the low volume of the television and the torrential downpour outside to compliment his high focus to your efforts in helping.

He set the room right for you, cleaning up, and being on his best behavior. You doubt he would’ve done such a thing for Kuroo (because he knows of your high expectations for him and he wishes to please you), so you admire the ability to plan his day fit. And the special treatment.

You flipped the book to your right, letting him survey the page without having to crook his head.

“Geographical Impact on Culture Practices and Language,” he reads the subtitle. He then looks at you for confirmation.

“We’re starting with Greece. Then we’ll move to India, then China,” you declare.

“Alright, we’re moving east.” He nods.

You smile and praise, “A great start.”

You’ve come to find the way he learns best is when he knows he’s doing something correctly, and also when he gets something wrong. However with the latter, he has to wield some determination, otherwise he’ll just lose faith in himself. Luckily that has yet to happen.

———

Some time into the practice you recognize the progress that he’s made. With each tutoring he has almost doubled the amount of pages the two of you have gone through, gradually picking up more and more information to build off of. His vocabulary has undeniably grown as well.

“China—as a sphere of influence,” he briskly catches himself: “kept good look on the Mongols because they knew of their ravaging proclivities, while also having almost complete isolation from the rest of the world. The ocean, steppes, deserts, and plateaus were a sense of protection, starting with the Tibetian.” He recites. His notes were short but sweet, he clearly writes down what he doesn’t think he’ll remember. Other than that, he can take a swift look at the topic and depend on memory for the rest.

“Bingo! that sounded great Ko.” You take your glasses off and blink a little, cleaning them off with a handkerchief you keep around. They resume their spot on your nose.

At some point earlier you scooted a little closer, shoulder to shoulder, so you could hold the book and review his notes at the same time. The soap he used you could probably guess the scent of. Once you lifted off him for your lens cleaning, Bokuto runs a hand through his hair and exhales happily, content with himself. He hisses though, quickly contorting his expression to one of pain.

“Shit,” he curses. He attempts to soothe himself by rubbing slow circles on your previous spot. He said it wasn’t anything (even though you doubted his statement from the beginning), yet you leaned on him anyway. You hadn’t meant to hurt him.

“Crap- sorry, was I on it?” You already knew the answer, but it didn’t seem like it was hurting him. Maybe the pressure didn’t matter in the moment, but when your weight came off, the pain returned with what it yielded.

“I didn’t think you were. You’re okay, I’ll put something on it.” He reassures.

“How does it hurt?” He mentally processes your interrogation before answering, probably thinking if Biofreeze would work.

“…It feels tight. Like something is tugging on it and won’t let go.”

“Does it hurt when you tilt your head like this?” You make the movement. He then mimics your action and shakes his head no. “Try the other side.”

He holds a face of slight confusion while attending to your order. He rapidly forms the previous countenance, an obvious sign of discomfort.

“It looks like an overworked muscle, so you were right. But you still need to tend to it.”

Your advice runs through his ear but out the other. You notice his absence of mind and slightly press on the sore shoulder blade spot in front of you to remind him, then it sticks to his brain what he needs to do. Hell, he was an athlete. He’s been told at least a thousand times.

“Can you stretch it out for me?” He asks innocently. Why not?

“Sure,” you agree. “Stand up.”

Following your orders has become his second nature. He knows you wouldn’t sabotage him in any way, so there’s no reason to defy them. You stand behind him, then walk to the open space of the apartment while instructing him to lay down on his stomach. Watching him obediently get to his knees and his muscles involuntarily flex in the short-sleeve shirt he wears does something to you (you’ll never say what). He does a single effortless push-up down to the floor. He lays silently, with his cheek resting in folded arms.

“It’s kinda cold down here.”

“Whatever,” you giggle, and follow him down. Fuck, it is kinda cold. Anyway, you go to check to see how his body is aligned. “I’m gonna lift your shirt up, ‘kay? Just sit still.”

He hums in acknowledgement and you’re pretty sure his eyes close. Your fingertips find the end of the thin cotton that does great things for his sharp figure, and lift only the back part. He slightly raises his body from his core, allowing you to pull just a little harder and get past his waist, leading to finally slipping it up to his under-arms. He aggravatingly groans at the temperature below him. You try your best to remember the context of said groan, while also ignoring the thought of his carved chest pressing on the hardwood.

The small things he does that prove his pure strength get your mind roaming. Being able to do push-ups with quickness, having utter control over his core, lifting heavy things with ease—you need to get a hold of yourself.

You run your hands along the freshly-washed, soft, skin of his back. It was an awkward angle being on his side, so you hesitantly swing your leg over, and reside right before his spine ends. Please, please don’t come off the wrong way. He lets out a heavy breath.

“Lay your hands outwards naturally.” He shifts. His left shoulder blade was slightly higher than the right, showing clear tension.

“You’re right handed, correct?” You inquire.

“Correct.” It comes out low and throaty, his face pressed to the floor. He was quiet every time you were around. He knew you appreciated few words—especially in a moment dedicated to studies and reading—so he’d trade out his loud self for your comfort, even if you didn’t mind the usual Bokuto that drew you to him the first time you met. He almost sounded tired.

You place your hands in the space between the scapula and press slightly. “Does it hurt there?”

“No ma’am.”

“So it’s only the left then. I’m going to run my hands along the bone while also pressuring the muscle. It’ll hurt a little, so just tell me when to stop.” Bokuto giggles a little, just airy enough to be able to hear. You don’t even acknowledge it because you don’t wish to be lead to the same sexual depravity his mind is situated in. Not like yours is any better.

You roll your hands through the muscle, upwards towards his deltoid, working it with a technique you were taught. This hopefully loosens it up the slightest bit if you were doing it right. You also tell him he could resume his previous position since you could sense how uncomfortable he was.

“Based on what I’ve gathered: not only do you constantly hit with your right hand, it’s your dominant arm so almost everything everyday is done on it. With your left, however, it’s not the main focus of what you do.” Your fingertips dig into his skin.

“I’m not sure what you necessarily work on in practice but because it’s not trained for nearly as much as your right, it’s taken a toll. The tension capacities are different. The scapula are naturally connected by the trapezius muscle so this is why it hurts to lean the opposite way,” you explain. You can almost feel his astonishment as he cocks his head behind him and looks you up and down through grey lashes. He still lays down, almost unbothered by you rubbing up against his bare back whenever you move.

“Y’know you never cease to amaze me? You know a lot about my body.” He compliments slyly. You blush at the word choice. He’s been very, very testy today.

You relent, “Not just yours, we’re all human Ko. Now take a deep breath.”

“Mhmm…Anything for you,” he states sarcastically. You could tell it was sarcasm, so why did it still affect you? You rise a bit on his back from the large breath. With a sudden press to the center, he curses in shock, then follows with an animalistic groan.

“Holy fuck, do that again,” he sighs. You press his head down between his arms, lift the left one behind his neck, and connect his hand to his right blade. You only tug a little, careful not to hurt him. Another faint crack.

He moans happily. You release him from your legs, saving the both of you from the suggestive position. It would only get worse from here, for when you needed him to turn over.

“Turn over, please.” He listens and grunts on his way up. Twisting his body over, now propped on his elbows, you could tell most weight was still shifted to his right arm. Bokuto rolls down to his back.

“You’re in charge,” he exhales, running his hands over his face. You knew he had to be cold, the previous warmth you provided was canceled out completely by the cool wood. This was where you’d have to straddle him again—except now it was ten times harder, ten times more suggestive—and you couldn’t stop the slight red from decorating your skin.

“It’s gonna be a little weird at first,” you warn.

“It’s only as weird as you make it,” he smiles knowingly. His knees come up, fully prepared for you to spread over him. Not to mention his chest was still out— It was far more entrancing than his backside. Nonetheless, you swing your leg over once more, and it takes everything in the male to not instinctively place his large hands under your lower thigh to help you. The first thing you do is pull the shirt as low as possible, attempting to cover any temptations.

“What? You scared of me?” Bo entertains.

You clear your throat more for stabilizing yourself, “No, it’s just not necessary at the moment. Left hand over your chest.”

“Sure,” he pushes incredulously, even you could tell he wasn’t the least bit convinced. You’re really fucking scared.

He crosses his left hand over his chest like a salute. His eyes never leave yours under long grey and black hair, except for when you order him to take another deep breath. You grab his arm and push left swiftly, but the pop sounds from his lower back. You must’ve pushed him too far left but he wasn’t complaining. “Sorry, one more time.” You lay forwards, building the strength to push more downwards this time into him, then finally get the spot you hoped for. His mouth opens for a moan again, nothing sounds but a breath of air.

“I would literally pay you for that. Is this just a secret talent?” He breathlessly questions.

“I major in exercise science, so we do a lot of studies on biology and human anatomy. The rest I just kind of guessed to be honest.”

Once he comes down from the feeling and opens his eyes to you still close on his chest, his head goes to dangerous places. Especially since you were smiling at him from your proud work and your back had a slight arch to it. This angle made your proportions completely surreal, your ass enlarging and your waist thinning at the hands of perspective. Of course, you did also just push with a significant amount of quick pressure directly into his groin.

“Okay, how does it feel?” You push up eagerly with your hands on his clothed chest. Your palms were perfectly atop his breasts.

“Like I need a cold shower.”

Surprisingly, you agree with this statement, it was good for the body and should be talked about more for people farther than athletes.

“Good. It’s great for relaxing the sore muscle,” You smile innocently. Ko laughs mainly to himself, “Yeah, it is.”

Your hair falls around your shoulders and over his head. His beautiful golden eyes were almost hidden by his long hair, but those large, expressive eyebrows could be spotted anywhere. They allowed you to read him like a book. At some point, your hands started slightly roaming the surface of his hard body, and your smile fell. You were subconsciously inching closer and closer to him.

Bokuto was disposed to let it happen. You’d been subtly rubbing up on him all day, and most of his words were limited because of you. God, how he loved listening to you go on and on about the subject he hated most, it made him at a loss for words; a rare feeling for someone who always had something to say. Your glasses framed your face perfectly, and your educated speech had him locked up in a poetic cage that you wielded the key to. The worst part is? He wasn’t sure if he wanted it unlocked.

You were already so close to him, his body, so when he brushed a piece of hair back with his fingertips and manually removed your glasses in a way that wouldn’t hurt you, you halted. It was almost like your conscious returned, telling you every bad effect possible. The angel on your shoulder was momentarily silenced by the devil, but finally broke free of the reigns just to declaim you the consequences of your decisions.

“Wait Ko,” you begin, “I-I um…don’t think we should.” You moderately shake your head. “It’ll change things.”

Your voice barely peeks above a whisper. He watched as the realization hit, your eyebrows upturned.

“Isn’t that the fun in it?” His eyes train to your lips before they finally find yours. “Things change all the time,” he smiles hopelessly. His large hand weaves through your hair and pulls you down to him.

Just like that, you were sold. Your full lips meet.

You moan gently in his mouth and fall chest to chest. Now your arch was fully purposeful. Pecks and sweet kisses dissolved into longer ones, it didn’t take long before he was sucking on your tongue like candy. You took up the job of twisting your head to search deeper into his throat, his current position rendering him unable to do what he desires to be doing to you. You think of the possibilities.

Maybe he’d take you on the wall with both legs under his control, slamming into you as you grab onto whatever leverage you could find. Or, he would bend you over in the shower with several fingers inside you and a hand on your throat, your body stuttering as the hot liquid runs down to the drain. You audibly moaned at this on accident.

Desperate, you grind down into him. His hands grip the fat of your ass, but he pulls from your puffy lips and away from your ruffled hair.

“Whatcha thinkin of? Can see it on your face.”

Your strong, independent woman composure was crumbling by the second above him, “Nothing,” you gasp, “just thinking.” He nips at your jaw, then follows down to your neck. He touches on a spot that’s always been sensitive, causing you to let out a keening whine, but he doesn’t say anything, so you assume he wants you to elaborate. You unintentionally moan, “Yes,” and he laughs into your neck.

“Tell me what about.” He’s pushing you further; seeing how much information he could get to leak out of you based off how far gone you were.

“You…touching me,” You reply, fully prepared for what he’s about to ask you next. You’ve read enough books to know. But that wasn’t the issue in question, it was how you’d reply. Would you crumble and shy away, or be bold and instruct him to give it to you? Would you elucidate it to him with the praising tone you know he adores?

“How was I touching you y/n?” Your name rolled so prettily off his kissing tongue. His grip on you tightened awaiting your answer, a problem beneath you that’s risen figuratively and literally.

“Um…” your blush spread so you tucked your face in his neck. “Your fingers were inside.”

It was a lot harder than it looks.

“Is that what you want?” A big grin spreads across his face—you can feel it.

“Yes.”

He finds your legs situated around his waist, sits up, and somehow comes to his feet. You were at least 5 feet in the air now. He casually walks to the couch and flips you on it, but a jagged edge cuts into your back.

“Book, ow ow-“ you wince in pain. By instinct you lifted back up, where he was already prying away the notebook hidden behind the pillows. He sends an apologetic smile and drags you along by your legs once the regained sexual drive returned. Next leaves your jeans.

Just waiting to see his prize, he gets them off quickly. The panties you wore were nothing absolutely special, but they were still lacy nonetheless; your previous being not finding a thong necessary on the way here. Bokuto could care less. The time you took thinking about it was the time he took to rip them off.

You scolded him for it, to which he responded “I’ll buy you any more you want” while punctually kissing your thighs. At the same time his fingers rose and spread your top folds, revealing the wetness you’ve gathered over the span of the past 10 minutes. He dunks a single finger in shallowly, then further pushes the digit deeper, and then turns it upside down so he could curl upwards. His large eyes focus on your heavy-breath reactions while his mouth licks away at your clit. The finger eventually comes out.

“Ko,” you utter. He hums in your pussy with his tongue swirling around. “You aren’t learning like this.” His throaty laugh reverberates up your center and through your body.

“Teach me.”

Once you get what he means, slowly, you reach for the casted away book as he holds your hips in place. It has proven harder than anticipated. His large arms encased your legs, wrapping around your thighs like a fucking present. You should’ve known he’d love it like this; it’s just you assumed he’d favor breathing.

Your glasses were in someplace on the floor elsewhere. Good thing you were near-sighted, but with how he was doing you, it would continue to be cumbersome. You open to a familiar page, already cracking when he sucks at your skin, but you resume a reviewing lesson nonetheless.

“Greece is—hmm—located in Europe,” you take a deep breath, “on the Mediterranean and just to the right of—“

“—The Italian Peninsula.” He completes. He slips two fingers in, scissoring you out and almost toying with you at this point. You were so, unbelievably wet.

You squirm in his hold and brush hair out of your face. He noticed how your eyebrows were forced upwards the slightest bit, resulting in a growing, complacent smile against your pussy lips. “Greece is surrounded by many little islands and water, therefore—”

“—Inducing maritime trade,”

“…And?” Your eyes shutter closed in the moment. The textbook was slowly dropping from your chest.

“Shipbuilding.” Breath fanned against your already extremely responsive body. Deliriously, you slightly open your eyes to find Kotarou’s jawline constantly moving with his pink tongue. He knew when to fill in the blank based off when you lowered the book to see him, expecting an answer. He’d never move away when speaking and just proceeded on with his job. So adroit, the male was—still tactful too, you had to be reading 10x less than your average speed.

You clear your throat, trying your best not to moan while reciting like earlier.

“The soil wasn’t ideal, so majority of the food was—“

“—olives, grapes, ‘n fish.” He was more muffled since the two fingers he had running through you were now pumping soothingly, and when he curled upwards again, the book slid off your breasts, prompted by the sudden arch you displayed, and even further bolstered by your fingers weaving through his hair.

“Great fucking job Ko, just like that.” The praise falls from your mouth and only provokes him to slurp and suck on your pussy harder. Of course, the words could’ve been relative to the studies, but both ways work. The squelch sounds relay through your brain.

His (somewhat) free left hand comes under your shirt, adventures it’s way past your bra. His large hand carries a respective imprint under your shirt. When he feels around the round of your breasts, he slows around your nipple, just waiting to suck on them when he gets the chance.

Feeling you up was his literal favorite thing ever. The thought of your hips automatically rolling up into his touch purely by will and desire fuels his brain in unimaginable ways. Calloused yet soft hands gliding along every curve and roll to memorize the trek of your body, the responses and reactions gathering into knowledge for reservation.

Your right leg was thrown over his shoulder, to which his bicep curled around to reach your upper body where his head dug through your lower. You were so close to nothing and everything, like something in you was held taut, just the interval alone precipitating another hiatus in your mind. His hand rolled around your breast almost as if it were a handle.

“That’s so good Kotarou, don’t stop—show me how good you eat it for me,”

He tried his best to circle his face around and flick the muscle over your clit. There wasn’t much room to move. An easy adapter he was, so he removed his digits and hugged you tight with twain arms. He held his tongue flat and idle, allowing full consent for your hips to gyrate and stutter on his face as you pleased. His long, variegated, fallen hair was threaded through your nails while he moaned himself encouragingly until finally, it snapped.

A loud stream of mushed words and imprecations poured from your lips and reflected off the walls into his covered ears. Unconsciously, legs locked around his head to prohibit his quit, and if your neurological clearheaded mind were apprised that the fingers drenched with your own slick were slipping over your abdomen, the feeling alone would’ve turned you over. However, it wasn’t, therefore creating the most mind-altering orgasm you’ve ever had.

All you could do was laugh whole-heartedly towards the ceiling at the whole thing as it washed over you. It was the epitome of cliche. You were his tutor, helping him out, and somehow ended up landing on the couch with his face betwixt you. His golden eyes were nothing short of a symbol of his happiness, proud of himself and you. You were definitely proud of him too.

No more failed tests!

© hxltic

[sunghyunjaes]

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐈’𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔

୨୧ ꒰ pairing ꒱ miya atsumu x f!reader

୨୧ ꒰ synopsis ꒱ You find yourself rolling your eyes at his dramatics, especially at the irony of his statement. Ever since you were children, you and Atsumu have been inseparable, almost more so than him and his twin. Where one found Atsumu, they found you, gripping onto his hand. Where one found you, they found Atsumu close by, attached to you by the hip. It wasn’t something you ever grew out of, and, eventually, you no longer found home in your respective beds. You no longer found ‘home’ in your house, surrounded by your families. You no longer found ‘home’ in the threshold of your kitchen, or in the books stacked, lovingly used, pages old and spines cracked, on your bookshelf. 

You found home in each other.

୨୧ ꒰ warnings ꒱ smut (mdni), themes of mental health (reader feels like their life is out of control / mentions of anxiety, but no mentions of depression and no heavier themes of mental health), slight angst, emotional sex + love confessions, childhood best friends to lovers, pining, oral (f! receiving), cursing, fingering, gn pronouns but female anatomy, atsumu has body hair + mentions of scars and stretch marks, bathhouse (inaccurate depictions, but this is fiction so that's fine), bathing together (non sexually), mentions of The Notebook (they watch it as a movie night), fantasizing (sexual), teasing, open-ended ending (slight angst, but hopeful)

୨୧ ꒰ word count ꒱ 21.9 k

this fic is a love letter to myself and everyone else who often feels like their lives may be out of control.

crossposted to ao3

The scent of sugared lemons and white tea billowing in the air is reminiscent of your childhood, bringing forth fond memories of warm spring afternoons. Between hushed, childlike whispers, you leaned over the center aisle, craning your body over the large desk in the direction of your best friend. 

A young Miya Atsumu faced you, bright-eyed with flushed pink cheeks, a broad smile adorning his face when your attention turned to him. He always did perk up when you looked at him, gave him your attention, called his name between cupped hands; it was a normal, comforting reaction, and one you had grown used to. 

Your schoolbook hid your quieted giggles, and you peeked from around the edge of it to make sure your grade school teacher hadn’t caught on. 

“You really mean it?” you asked, a youthful hopefulness evident in your voice. Feeling confident that the coast was clear, you turned back to face him, a questioning look in your gaze. On the apples of Atsumu’s cheeks were sparkling flecks of sugar, reminding you of the sweet lemon treat you shared during lunch break. 

Atsumu, ever the pleaser, nodded enthusiastically, eyes sparkling with an honest gleam. 

“Yeah!” he exclaimed, his young voice higher pitched than it is now. His ruddy fingers, slightly chubby, reached out to yours, and you clasped hands with him eagerly. “We’re always gonna be together!” 

And, in your childlike haze, protected from the world's harsh realities, you believed him. 

“I promise,” Atsumu smiled at you, all toothy, cheeks kissed pink with remnants of the sun still in his hair. 

Those memories are carried warmly in your heart, reminding you of the warm embrace of the spring sun, enveloping you in its fondness on days you need it most. It’s a comforting thing, one that soothes the stresses of everyday life, reminding you of the blissful peace that once surrounded your days. It is a kind of knowing comfort you wish you could return to, days filled with nothing but the blissful ignorance of youth.

But childhood is surrounded by a shiny, pink haze—one that does not correlate to adulthood, and one that does not survive the seemingly never-ending push and pull of the millions of possibilities it comes with. It’s distressing to realize that you do not have a grip on your own life, and the feeling threatens to swallow you whole. The deep pit in your chest only widens each day, and you fear that—without answers, without a clear path to travel—it will never go away. 

You ponder how you became like this; how, one morning, you woke up and suddenly felt so out of control. It was as if there was a minimal shift in the air—so slight, yet still so significant in your life; how, when you woke up, a strange sense of unease overcame you, and your sheets suddenly felt a bit colder than usual. 

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” you asked over the phone later that morning, fearing that the words came out shaky and painfully-strung together. Internally, you winced.

You paced around your kitchen, worriedly rubbing your mouth as you waited in anticipation.

 “We’re sorry, but the position you applied for has been filled already. We can pass your application to our sister company, if you’d like. Or, if it would be more favorable, to another department within the company,” the employee on the other line attempted to state helpfully. 

Letting your head fall to the palm of your hand, you squeezed your eyes shut, your heart falling pathetically despite your preparation. You bit your bottom lip, nodding your head along with the words of the person on the other line, and your mind spun with possibilities of how to save the job opportunity. 

It felt like you were flailing, with no safety net prepared to catch you.

“Sorry, but are there really no other openings? I am very interested in this position,” you insisted, taking a deep breath. The nervousness inside you made it feel as if all the air was balled inside your chest, coiling and buzzing with a kind of cold adrenaline.

You heard the employee hesitate—the way one does when feeling uncomfortable. Instantly, you felt bad, knowing that this employee likely had nothing to do with your not getting the job, and was probably doing whatever they could to placate you. 

It made you burn with embarrassment and shame, even though you knew you did nothing wrong. 

“Sorry,” you apologized, closing your eyes to fight away the sting of tears building on your lashline. “Yes, please. I would love to be kept in consideration for another department.” 

You listened as the employee laughed, relief evident in their voice; it was as if they were happy they didn’t have to further crush your spirit.

“Wonderful!” you heard some clacking, as if the person on the other line was typing on their keyboard. You pictured your information—a neat photo of yourself, carefully tacked onto the side, along with your professional resume—being input into the company’s system, being carefully stacked away with hundreds of other applicants. 

 “Well, I’ll go ahead and add you to the waitlist, and if we hear anything or have any new openings, we’ll go ahead and give you a call…”

You tuned out the rest of the call, only nodding along listlessly and adding small bits of input where needed. It ended quickly after that, and all you were left with was an aching pit of confusion and uncertainty for the future. It was painful and had you clutching at your chest, wringing your shirt away from your body as if it were the offending strangler. 

And the pain didn’t come from not getting the job; even though it was an excellent position, one you’d sought for months, it wasn’t the primary source of your frustrations and anxieties. 

It was the fear of the future; the fear of uncertainties, and the confusion that came with not knowing what to do with your life.

You found yourself wishfully pleading for that shiny, pink haze of childhood to return.

—

Onigiri Miya has always been a place enveloped in the warmth of familiarity. Your hypothesis states that this is due to the family ties that bind the restaurant, punctuated by a never-ending stream of photos displaying the twins, by the loud, raucous laughter that comes with groups of friends, volleyball players new and old alike. It states that this feeling of comfort is rare in everyday life, carrying with it a brisk sense of nostalgia that brushes past you abruptly, but it is not unwelcome. 

The wood tones of the walls only further this feeling of warmth, and as you lean against the front counter, peering your head inquisitively, you freely welcome the feeling. 

You attempt to ignore the biting feeling creeping down your back—the same feeling that’s been present for weeks—and stamp down the confusion it comes with.

“He’s taking forever,” Atsumu groans, voice accentuated with a slightly obnoxious huff. Almost bored, you tilt your head to the side, looking at him with a raised brow, questioning. You watch his arms cross over his broad chest, the gray shirt a bit too tight for the new muscle he’s gained since further pursuing his volleyball career. As he leans his head against the wall, Atsumu stretches his long legs out, kicking them almost childishly against the floor as he shifts in the chair. 

Rolling your eyes, you push yourself off the counter. As you make your way over to the restaurant’s glass door, you deliver a swift, albeit gentle, kick to Atsumu’s shoe as you pass him, helpfully flicking the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed.’ 

“Hey!” Atsumu pouts, mouth falling open in protest. It’s almost comical how his eyes widen in faux hurt, head snapping up from its resting place to glare at you. He looks nearly appalled, clearly snapped out of some kind of listless thinking. As he sits up, you notice a few pieces of his hair sticking up in the back, and you have to stifle a giggle. Flicking your eyes to the coarse wood walls he was leaning against, you raise your brows playfully.

“‘Tsumu,” you hum, voice lilted in a singsong tone; despite his feigned annoyance, Atsumu can’t help but perk up at the familiar nickname and sweet tone of your voice. 

Covering your mouth with your hand, you let out a soft laugh, biting your lip to prevent any other sounds from spilling. Atsumu shoots you another glare, but you delight in the playful mirth that gleams in his gaze. 

You make a gesture with your hand as if you were smoothing out your own hair. “Your hair,” you offer, and when Atsumu gives you a confused look, you reach out a hand. “It’s all messed up.”

Atsumu stretches up a bit to accept your help, instinctively closing his eyes at your gentle touch. 

“But still cute, right?” he asks, but the slight hope present in his tone isn’t enough to fool you. 

You hum, tilting your head as if in thought. “Hm. Maybe,” you state, before a teasing grin tugs at your lips. “But not as cute as your brother’s.”

Smiling to yourself, you pat down the back of his hair, resisting the urge to ruffle the strands and mess it up even further. Atsumu’s hair has always been soft, despite the years of bleach he’s put it through, and you grin with the knowledge that it’s because of your excellent choice in hair products that his hair hasn’t been singed to a crisp. 

Choosing to ignore your previous—and obviously untrue statement, Atsumu thinks with a huff—he continues on. 

“What d’ya kick me for?” he pouts. You think he resembles a kicked puppy, and the sight is endearing. 

His hair is messed up again as he frowns at you, and you have to resist the urge to reach out and fix it again.

“You deserved it,” you merely justify, shrugging with a soft grin. As Atsumu shifts in his chair, propped up against the wall, your eyes flit to how his biceps cross over his chest. His arms have always been so strong, so comforting, and you can recall endless hours of being held within them, soothing words whispered to the crown of your head or a bright grin pressed against your cheek. 

Those arms remind you of home, and you have always felt safe in them.

Again, a feeling of unease settles in your stomach, and you have to resist the urge to duck your head, instead picking at the hem of your sleeve in a poor attempt to distract your relentless thoughts.

“Ya so mean today,” Atsumu complains, rolling his head along the back of the chair as he gazes distractedly at the ceiling. “And ‘m hungry, and ‘Samu’s takin’ forever.”

Atsumu, always your number one in making you feel better, instantly shoos away your harsh thinking. He’s always been able to pick up on your moods—as well as any slight changes—and is an expert at making you feel better. He says this with a minor quirk of his brow, silently asking if you’re okay, and shoves his hands into his pockets. 

You feel immensely grateful for him.

Shaking your head with an amused laugh slipping past your lips, you chastise your best friend. “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you patience?” you question, voice a bit low as you nudge at a stray leaf with your foot. You frown, crunching it satisfyingly under your heel, before swiftly leaning down to clean up your mess. It’s the little things, you realize, that give you your everyday joys, and you take pleasure in the way the brown leaf cracks under your shoe, forming little creases along the seam of it, one last resistance before it splits. 

You wonder, a bit cynically, how long it will take your life to crack and split open.

Atsumu rolls his shoulders in laughter. “Definitely didn’t learn it from you,” he retorts, shooting you a teasing glance as you playfully glower at him. 

“You’re right,” you admit, sighing a bit as you dump the leaf’s remains in the trash. Brushing the remnants off your hands, you finally turn your head back to meet Atsumu’s. “I only taught ‘Samu that.”

Immediately, Atsumu’s face morphs into that of a feigned shock, dipping his head down and shaking it at you. “I knew it!” he cries, scoffing before letting his head fall back again. “Knew you always liked ‘Samu more,” he murmurs, sulking adorably. 

You find yourself rolling your eyes at his dramatics, especially at the irony of his statement. Ever since you were children, you and Atsumu have been inseparable, almost more so than him and his twin. Where one found Atsumu, they found you, gripping onto his hand. Where one found you, they found Atsumu close by, attached to you by the hip. It wasn’t something you ever grew out of, and, eventually, you no longer found home in your respective beds. You no longer found ‘home’ in your house, surrounded by your families. You no longer found ‘home’ in the threshold of your kitchen, or in the books stacked, lovingly used, pages old and spines cracked, on your bookshelf. 

You found home in each other. 

“Whatever,” you say jokingly, a laugh removing the bite from your words. 

“Who’s sayin’ my name?” a voice emerges from the back kitchen, and Osamu joins you. His cap is twisted, a lock of hair peeking out from the lip, and his black top has smears of flour and rice decorating it. 

He holds out two brown paper bags, and Atsumu soon snatches one of them, opening it up and smiling widely at the sight. Completely ignoring his brother’s words, Atsumu beams at his onigiri, carefully made, the white rice packed neatly into a soft triangle shape. “Salmon? Woah, ‘Samu! Ya outdid yerself!” Atsumu exclaims, already shoving bits of it into his mouth. 

You hide a laugh at the way his cheeks puff out, and the image of a chipmunk arises in your mind. 

“Ya have to pay for that, ya know,” Osamu glares, but you all know his threat is empty. You give him a grateful look as he holds out your bag for you, and your eyes brighten nearly as much as Atsumu’s did when you open its contents. 

“Thanks, ‘Samu,” you say, digging in your pockets for a few hundred yen. As the paper crinkles in your palm, Osamu pushes your hand down, shaking his head slightly—insisting you don’t need to pay for it. 

You raise a brow at him but relent. “You have to let me pay you, or your brother’s gonna run you out of business,” you scold him, but an affectionate smile accompanies your words. 

At your tone, Osamu merely smirks. “Who said anything about him not payin’.”

“Hey!” Atsumu exclaims, voice muffled as his cheeks are still stuffed with the onigiri. “‘M right here, ya know!”

Osamu looks his brother up and down, as if playfully judging him, before shaking his head. “Oh, we know.”

Shaking your head at the duo, you turn back to Osamu. “Let me help you somehow. You guys can catch up, maybe, and I’ll go clean things up in the back?” you offer, gesturing towards the kitchen with your thumb.

Osamu appears hesitant, never being one to let others help him too much. However, he easily gives in to your pestering gaze, peering at him with a knowing smile. 

“Alright, alright. I already did most of it, but there are some dishes, probably,” he explains, brushing back his hair as he pulls a chair next to his brother. You smile fondly at the brothers, nearly a mirror image of each other but so different in so many ways. 

“Have fun you two,” you say, waving a hand at them. Your voice lilts off in a singsong voice as you begin making your way to the kitchen. Weaving around empty tables, all neatly arranged with their respective chairs, you hear a voice call after you. 

“If ya’ need help, just holler! I’ll be right there,” Osamu instructs, and you stifle a laugh as you hear a smack, followed by a curt “Ow!”

“Dontcha mean ‘we’ll’ help?” Atsumu scolds, and you shake your head at their antics. “He means ‘we’ll’ help!” Atsumu shouts after you, though you find no need for yelling. However, that means little to Atsumu, and you have a theory that his voice only knows one volume: loud.

As you push a stray chair in by your hip, you picture him cupping his mouth with two hands, and the image fondly reminds you of childhood.

You find yourself scrubbing stray dishes, and once you’re sure they’re clean, you find clean ones to wash. In truth, you need time alone to think, to muse; you need time to question the direction of your life and the millions of ‘what-ifs’ that flit through your head. It’s a troublesome thing, and one you can’t quite seem to shake.

The missed job opportunity taunts you, and the thoughts accompanying it only further smother your spirit; it is similar to that of uncooked rice falling through the seams of a hand, the pale, puffy pieces spilling before one had a chance to catch them.

Out of all the people in your life, you feel like you are the only one without a solid plan. The knowledge is dizzying and scary, and you feel lost in a sea of endlessly deep water. You don’t know what direction to go in or which one you should attempt to pursue, because with each one comes its own set of equally terrifying obstacles. The loss you feel is suffocating, yet you simultaneously feel abandoned, left behind by all you care about, left to pick up the small bits of yourself that you recognize. 

As your thoughts begin to unwillingly spiral, you get lost in the feeling of the water spreading across your palms—the coolness of it reaching across your fingertips—until tiny drops fall from them. It should be refreshing, yet as you sink into restless mindlessness, you can’t help the vague feeling of loss creep up your throat, closing up the gaps in your mouth until you can’t concentrate. Your body and mind ache for an easy answer, a clear path, or something as simple as a sign to help guide you. 

A loud laugh from the main dining room breaks your train of thought, followed by a striking crash and more laughter. You’re grateful for the distraction, and a small laugh spills past your lips as you hear Atsumu shouting something at his brother. It allows you to recenter yourself, and you come to the brief realization that your thoughts are foolish, especially with the conversation of two of your best friends reaching your ears. Realistically, you know no one has left you; in fact, they’re a constant in your everyday life, sticking to your side even when you joke that they’re ‘too much.’ 

In reality, you hope they’ll never leave you alone. 

Looking down, you realize you’ve been scrubbing the now glimmering plate until your fingers became red and aching, and you scowl as you toss the offending brush to the side. Attempting to regain your focus, you turn off the water faucet, admiring the clean silver of the appliances Osamu insists on keeping clean. 

“How’s it going?” a voice knocks you out of your reverie, and Osamu glances between you and the pile of neatly placed dishes. Leaning against the doorframe, he shoots you a knowing look, crossing his arms as he eyes your nearly distraught hands. 

“You okay?” he asks, concern clear in his tone. 

Embarrassed at how soon you were caught, you duck your head, a shy smile playing at your lips as you wring the warm rag over the sink. “I’m fine,” you state, still avoiding Osamu’s gaze as you nod—as if you’re trying to convince yourself. “Are you?” you chuckle, remembering the string of loud disturbances from a few minutes ago. 

Osamu breathes out a huff, an airy sound, as he sheepishly scratches his cheek. “Everything’s fine. ‘Tsumu just fell.”

Halting your motions, you raise your brows at Osamu, looking at him in disbelief. “Oh? He fell, did he?” you inquire, suspicion clear in your tone. You know that without yourself as a buffer, Atsumu probably didn’t fall, but the thought is humorous nonetheless.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that,” he says quite bashfully. 

You nod as your suspicions are confirmed, a brief beat passing between you both. 

“Ya can talk to me, you know,” Osamu states, then, as if suddenly shy, ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck. “If, ya know, you want to.”

And this time, you don’t have to fake the smile that spreads across your face. A kind of familial fondness overcomes your heart, spreading across your chest at the sight of one of your oldest friends in front of you. “I know,” you affirm, voice soft. 

For a moment, you decide to tuck your worries away, folding them neatly between the waves, promising to fully face them in the future. 

Osamu holds your gaze for a moment longer, but the silence that settles between you both is comfortable, built on years of friendship. He crosses his feet similarly to his arms as he leans against the doorframe, eyes flicking between your own as if wondering if he should question you further or leave you be.

He seems to decide on the latter, and a look of remembrance and realization crosses his face. 

“Oh!” he exclaims lowly, hands moving over the pockets of his dark jeans, patting over the fabric. “I have somethin’ for ya.”

Osamu curls two fingers in the left pocket, and you’re reminded of a cat curling in on itself as he leans down. Fishing two pieces of paper from them, Osamu looks up triumphantly, and, like his brother, you scowl at a few strands of misplaced hair.

However, unlike his brother, you don’t move to fix them. 

“One of the grannies gave ‘em to me,” he explains, holding out the papers to you. Drying your hands off on a rag, you carefully take them, peering over the tiny pieces of paper. They’re small, fitting in the palm of your hands, with a photo of a traditional-looking bathhouse at the top, steam curling around the edges of a pool. 

“I don’t really have the time to go before they expire, but I figured…” Osamu trails off, and when you lift your head to look at him, you notice him staring off to the dining room—where his brother is. 

“You figured…?” you offer, tilting your head to look at him better. You feel the scheming radiating off of him, and you narrow your eyes at how he so obviously is attempting to pull some strings. 

You have yet to piece together what the strings are.

Osamu bounces off on a tangent—something about the group of grannies that come by every week, often accompanied with lilted stories of their youth as they pinch Osamu’s cheeks. You barely listen; instead, your gaze catches on the words printed on the two coupons in front of you: onsen bathhouse.

“...and I figured you and ‘Tsumu could go,” he finishes, and, at the mention of his twin’s name, your head jolts up in surprise. 

“To a bathhouse?” you question, disbelief coating your words. Osamu looks at you a bit bashfully, but also a bit expectantly, before glancing over his shoulder to see his brother. 

“Well, yeah,” he merely offers, picking at something on his shirt. “I can’t go, so I figured the two of ya could go instead.”

You blink slowly, attempting to piece together the words in your head. You wait until the words form an appropriate picture, flashes of possibilities forming in your mind. 

You and Atsumu. Together in a bathhouse. 

“Do they even make mixed-gender bathhouses anymore? I thought they were all separated now,” you muse, furrowing your brows as you gaze at the coupons. They feel heavy in your hand, and you think that the heaviness comes from the millions of different possibilities they hold.

“Mm,” Osamu hums, barely agreeing with you. “Some of them. But not this one,” he explains, deeply sighing at your obvious reluctance. 

“Look,” Osamu gains your attention, ducking his head to look you in the eyes. Meeting him head-on, you shoot him a slightly exasperated, yet deadpanned, look. “It’s just an offer. Ya don’t have to go or anything,” he shrugs, pushing off the wall as he prepares to head back to the dining room. 

“But,” he states, voice a bit lower, and you find yourself perking up at his words, “I don’t think ‘Tsumu would mind it.”

His words leave you reeling, even as you venture out to the dining room again. Anticipation and confusion tingle at the edges of your mind, and you find yourself wondering it Atsumu really wouldn’t mind it. 

As you enter the dining room, Atsumu is caught nearly stealing your portion of onigiri, rice staining his cheeks as evidence of his crime. 

“Someone seems to have grabby hands,” you scold, snatching Atsumu’s wrist in your hand. He looks up at you with a slightly apologetic look, but the mischievousness that resides there overturns any of his admission of guilt. “Thief,” you tease, lips curling up in a mean smirk. 

“Was just testing it for ya,” Atsumu attempts to explain, and you scoff at the pleased look on his face as he swallows. “Ya know, making sure it was still warm, making sure ‘Samu didn’t make it gross.”

Osamu scoffs, and your head feels like a volleyball bouncing back and forth as you observe the two. “Yeah right! Why don’tcha just admit my cooking is the best you’ve ever had.”

A brief sense of sentimentality fills you as an image of the twins, ten years younger, fill your mind. When their hair was the same dark color, but their words and actions were just the same as they are now.

“Then ya obviously haven’t had Yumie’s cookin’ in a while,” Atsumu says, brushing a stray piece of rice from the edge of his mouth,

Their laughter is tamped down as Osamu, sitting backward in a chair—his arms crossed over the top of it—speaks up. He calls your name, humor still present in his tone, and you perk up. “How did that job thing go, anyways?” 

Internally, you wince, but don’t allow the waves of loss and uncertainty to rise over you again. With a likely feigned smile, you merely shrug. “Not in the cards for right now,” you simply explain, voice a bit more monotonous than it had been. 

Atsumu furrows his brows, his gaze jumping between that of you and his twin. His twin, who now appears to slump a bit in his chair, apologies on the tip of his tongue; and you, body tensed with hurt, a brief smile on your face attempting to hide the sadness you must feel. 

“Job thing?” Atsumu asks, furrowing his brows as he feels out of the loop. He tries not to comment on the fact that it’s painful, not knowing what you two are talking about, and he feels out of place suddenly. 

Taking a bite out of your onigiri, you shake your head. “It wasn’t a big deal, don’t worry about it.”

Atsumu watches as Osamu visibly deflates, the excitement and hopefulness he felt for you gone in a moment, replaced with pity. “I’m sorry,” he states, voice somber. 

Not wanting to ruin the moment, you wave your hand, a more genuine smile making its way onto your face. “Not your fault!” you exclaim, shushing Osamu’s insistence on apologies. The brothers share a swift look, noting how the air seems to have shifted slightly, and silently agree on making you feel better. 

“Actually, ‘Tsumu should be the one apologizing! Didn’t even know about it,” Osamu pokes fun at his twin, grinning at the genuine laugh you let out. 

Atsumu looks appalled, flicking his gaze between you both with a playful hurt. “Well how come no one told me about it?” he nearly shouts, and you let out a humorous huff as you take another bite of onigiri. 

“You were too busy being sucky at volleyball,” Osamu retorts, standing up from his chair and stretching. 

You continue this back and forth, reveling in the sweet familiarity that comes with being surrounded by your oldest friends. Your problems are easily forgotten in their honeyed words and bright smiles, and the mood is steadily uplifted until the darkness from the night sky peeks through the glass windows. You stay for as long as you can, basking in the sweet company, before Atsumu sweeps you away, gesturing for you to hurry up as he holds the door for you. 

After hushing him to be patient, you give Osamu a hug. He smells of food, and his arms are comforting as they wrap around you; you ignore how Atsumu whines and pouts from the door. 

“Don’t forget,” Osamu encourages you, patting the pocket where the bathhouse tickets reside. You feel heat rush through your body at the reminder, and you pull away from the friendly embrace to nod. “It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

As Atsumu walks you home—a tradition he’s insisted on since you were in grade school, stating that it’s “his private time with you, with no ‘Samu allowed”— you can’t help the way your mind tosses and turns. Internally, you’re stunned at the idea of going to a bathhouse with your best friend, and the weight of the coupons seems to increase with every step you take. 

You want to curse and chide Osamu, to scold him for his blatantly obvious behavior of trying to pair you with his brother. Then again, if you flip the coin, you could also scold and chide Atsumu, who appears to be the only one oblivious to your feelings for him. 

“So…” Atsumu begins, breaking the comfortable silence of the night. The darkness on the street is interrupted by interspaced lights, warm spots of yellows and oranges guiding you along the sidewalk. 

“So…?” you inquire, playfully nudging Atsumu. He grins at you before shouldering you back, and you laugh at how he places an arm protectively around you—as if ready to catch you if you fall. 

Then, as your laughter quiets down, so does Atsumu’s bubbly mood. “Why didn’t ya tell me about the job?” he asks. Atsumu shoves his hands in his pockets, dipping his head down to kick at a stray rock with the tip of his shoe. Your eyesight follows the rock’s trajectory as you attempt to form an adequate sentence. 

When Atsumu glances back up, confused as to your silence, you want to wince at the slight bit of pain that resides there. His features are downturned, a small frown pulling at his lips; however, there’s still a look of compassion in his eyes as he stares at you, and you suddenly feel silly for keeping it from him. 

You shrug, knowing that any false pretenses you attempt to put up will fail against Atsumu. “I didn’t think I would get it,” you admit, and the brutal honesty in your words is another painful reminder. A deep pang strikes through your chest, and you swallow as you look down towards your feet. 

“Ya didn’t think you would get it?” Atsumu repeats, ducking his head to meet your gaze. He smiles then, and the soft, tender look of it causes your heart to warm. 

“No, I didn’t,” you state, voice a bit quieter than usual. You can’t find the words to explain yourself, even though you know you don’t technically have to. Feeling the waves encroach upon yourself again, you want to shrink in on yourself; Atsumu, seeing your demeanor, doesn’t allow this. He tucks a hand under your chin, bringing your gaze up to meet his. 

And the smile he gives you causes the waves to return to a soothing, comforting lull, washing away your insecurities and instead bathing you in the warm light that is Atsumu.

“So, because ya didn’t think you would get it, ya didn’t tell me? That’s the gist of it, am I right?” he asks, as if mostly talking to himself. You nod. 

After smiling up at the stars, he looks back at you. “But ya were still excited for it, right? Ya still wanted it.”

You take a deep breath, noting with a small grin that your steps have lined up with Atsumu’s. “Yeah, I wanted it. I still do,” you state, but this time, the bite that comes with the realization that you didn’t get the job doesn’t sting as much as it used to. 

Atsumu brings his hands up in a small shrug, then lets them fall back to his sides. “Well, then that’s reason enough to tell me. I wanna know everything that goes on with ya’, to be by you and support ya’. You know this,” he states, simply. He says it as if it’s an ultimate truth in his life, as if he’s merely stating that the grass is green and the sky is blue. 

Then, he flicks your forehead, smiling when you happily laugh and swat his hand away. “So don’t leave me behind next time, okay? I don’t care if ‘m busy or whatever. I always have time for you.”

Atsumu pauses, then furrows his brow. “Well, and ‘Samu, too. But don’t tell him I said that!” 

You laugh, and the sound is like music to Atsumu’s ears. He smiles as he watches you, as the life returns to your eyes in a way that makes him smile. His heart pounds in his chest when you look back at him, gracing him with that look that’s had him by the neck since childhood. 

“You’re right, ‘Tsumu,” you hum, and Atsumu hopes you can’t hear the way his heart pounds at the sweet nickname. 

“‘Course I am! I always am, aren’t I?” he teases, knocking his head back to take a deep breath of the refreshing night air. 

You agree with him internally—not able to out loud, knowing the considerable ego you would have to deal with for the rest of the night. 

“So! Movie night! My place, right?” he asks, knocking you back to the present. You nod happily, already musing over a list of films you’d been wanting to watch. 

“I can sleep over?” you ask, not wanting to brave the streets in the early morning hours. Atsumu scoffs—agreeing as if that was the most obvious thing in the world—before throwing an arm over your shoulder. You glance at the touch, suddenly wondering if outsiders would view you as lovers due to the sweet embrace. 

Suddenly, you find your heart jumping in your throat. 

“By the way,” you begin, moving your hands down to pat against your pockets. You feel for the coupons, tugging them out and brandishing them, almost embarrassed, to Atsumu. “‘Samu gave these to me. Said you and I could go.”

You allow him to take one of the coupons from you, ignoring the heat when his fingers brush against yours. Watching amused as Atsumu curiously peers at it, you stifle a laugh. 

“A bathhouse?” he asks, furrowing his brows in an appealing manner. You nod, pointing at the words that center at the top. 

“Yeah, said he can’t go before they expire, so he gave them to me,” you explain, fighting the slight embarrassment that rises inside you at the suggestion. “Said we should go.”

You miss the blush that suddenly dusts his cheeks at the thought, his thumb smoothing out a creased edge. “A traditional bathhouse? Just the two of us?” 

There’s an edge of nervousness to his words, and you nearly stutter over your feet as you continue walking. 

“Well, yeah, but it’s not a big deal, right?” you ask, silently asking for reassurance. You nod along with your words as if trying to convince yourself that being naked together, in such close proximity, wouldn’t mean anything. 

Noticing how you begin to shrink in on yourself, awkwardness filling your steps, Atsumu quickly changes his trajectory. 

A minor, mischievous smirk quirks at his lips, and he brushes his shoulder with yours. “Ya’ know, if ya’ wanted to get me naked, ya’ just had to ask.”

He brandishes the coupons above your head, looking at you in a way that instantly soothes your nerves. “No need to use ‘Samu or these,” he hands you back his coupon, “as an excuse.”

You scoff, stuttering over your words. Instead, you opt for a bemused laugh, though it comes off more flustered than you meant it to. 

“Please, you wish!” you retort, quickly snatching it out of his hand. Atsumu chuckles fondly as you shove it back in your pocket, anticipation filling him at the notion of going to a bathhouse with you. 

“Maybe I’ll just take someone else, instead. Maybe Kita—oh! Or Suna!” you tease, elbowing him gently in the side. 

Atsumu quickly rises to the bait, a look of shock and scorn crossing his features as he protests. “Absolutely not! If anyone’s gonna go with ya’, it’s gonna be yer best friend!”

Indulging him, you play with the smile on your lips, feeling a sense of contentment that’s been lost on you lately. “Sure sure, whatever you say, ‘Tsumu.”

Later, you find yourself lounging happily on Atsumu’s couch. The Notebook plays in front of you—Atsumu’s insistence, not yours—as you comfortably lean against him. Atsumu hums along with the movie, pointing out plot point after plot point, an arm slung around your shoulder. He holds you against him comfortingly, and the smell of his deep cologne and a scent that’s uniquely him invades your senses. 

You find that you want nothing more than to bury your face in his neck, to kiss up the column of his throat, and have his smell surround you in a way it never has before. 

As Atsumu remains immersed in the film, your eyes wander over him. The way he leans against the back of the couch, spreading his legs a bit and jumping every time a scene particularly interests him. The way his gray sweatpants highlight his legs, coming to taper off at the ankle. You watch as his blonde hair—perpetually messy, your hypothesis states—rests lazily over his forehead, and you reach a hand out to brush it out of his eyes. 

Atsumu hardly notices—after all, you’ve been doing it for years. 

“Oh, it’s my favorite part!” Atsumu exclaims, sitting up a bit straighter. You’re tugged along with him, and you freely scoff at his words. 

“You say that about every part,” you note, reaching around him to snag part of your snack. He shoots you a glare, not willing to admit the truth to your words, as he snatches your wrist in your hands. 

“Ya’ gotta pay for that,” Atsumu raises a brow playfully, and you quickly catch onto the playful glint in his eyes. His hand—large and warm—encircles your wrist, a slight smirk playing at his lips as he teases you. 

“Oh?” you ask, equally as mischievous. Fighting his strength, you bring the food quickly to your lips, making an exaggerated hum at how good it tastes. Atsumu merely watches, scowling as your wrist is still trapped in his hand.

 “I have to pay for it?” you point to your mouth, your words slightly muffled. “Sorry, a bit too late for that. It was really good, though.”

Atsumu lets your wrist fall, slightly exaggeratedly rubbing his hands over his face. “Always so mean ta me,” he pouts, pulling his hands away from his face to sulk at you. 

You hum, not entirely amused, as you turn your face to the television screen. Atsumu continues peering at you, pestering you as he pulls you against him. “Whatever,” you say, though he can see the smile that accompanies your words.

“Wow, harsh,” Atsumu places a hand over his heart, still unhappy that your attention isn’t on him. “Ya’ hurt me, really.”

You scoff, which morphs into a soft laugh, as you keep your gaze fixated on the screen. “You like it,” you state with a smile, knocking your head to the side to grin at him. 

Atsumu finds the air sucked from his lungs as you look at him, and he becomes lost in your gaze as you ramble on about something. He admires the way you talk, lips curling around the words that sit on the tip of your tongue, moving your hands as you gesture at the movie. He admires the way you feel sinking against his touch—an action so familiar he can recount it like the back of his palm. 

Atsumu feels an irresistible pull to you—at home with you in his arms. 

“Look at you, spacing out again,” your words bring him out of his reverie, and he chuckles out an apology. 

“Sorry. Distracted,” he flicks his wrist as if clearing the thoughts from his head. 

“Poor excuse!” you exclaim, pointing towards the screen. “You said it’s your favorite part! And you’re not even paying attention. What a poor fan you are.”

Your playful words only spur him on as he pulls you tighter against him, pinching your cheeks in a gesture reminiscent of childhood. “Oh yeah? I am, am I? Wasn’t it you who missed my last two games?” 

You squeal and slap his wrists away, laughter shaking your shoulders. Rubbing at your cheeks, Atsumu still keeps you close to him, not yet willing to let you go. 

“Yeah? You mean the games that were overseas?” you huff, slapping his chest lightly. You feel a sense of déjà vu wash over you as Atsumu holds your wrist in his hand again, keeping it firmly placed on his chest. 

“Whatever,” you watch as he blushes, and a content feeling fills you as he finally relinquishes. 

 “...what do you want?” cuts across the room, Noah’s voice distracting you from each other. You both refocus your attention on the movie, and Atsumu shifts slightly to better accommodate you against him. 

“I want a white house, with blue shutters,” Allie returns, walking around the barren, broken-down home. Noah nods his head, murmuring a quick mhm before Allie continues. 

“And a room overlooking the river so I can paint,” you watch with fondness as Noah simply watches Allie, brushing her fingertips over the dust-covered ledges and shelves, a sense of affection present in his features. You find yourself yearning for someone to love you that way, and wonder, pleasantly, if Atsumu ever looks at you like that. 

You both watch, enraptured, as Noah leans against the doorframe, a friendly grin on his face as he watches the girl he loves. “Anything else?”

Allie quickly responds with a cheeky smile, her voice uplifted as she states a simple, “Yes!”

Her voice is brimming with bliss and euphoria, as if the night she lives in holds infinite possibilities. They both laugh, and the sound is so private that it feels as if you and Atsumu are intruding on an intimate moment. 

“I want a big ole porch that wraps around the entire house,” Noah oohs at her words, as if picturing the moment perfectly. As if he’s envisioning a future with her. “And we can drink tea, and watch the sun go down!”

Noah simply nods, and the look of pure adoration that adorns his face as he looks down at Allie is enough to have your heart aching. “Okay,” he agrees.

Allie looks at him with a playful smile, tucking their hands together in a small embrace. “You promise?” she asks, voice hopeful. 

With parted lips, you watch as Noah nods his head. “I promise,” he agrees with her. 

Atsumu watches as you lose yourself in the movie, suddenly lost himself. He’s lost in childhood memories, of warm spring days where the scents of sugared lemon and white tea rested in the air. Of you calling to him behind cupped hands, before he grabbed your fingers between his own. 

We’re always gonna be together.

Then, a soft smile.

I promise.

“Whaddya want?” Atsumu asks you, a hint of a smile hidden between his words. He speaks quietly, as if afraid to interrupt the peacefulness of the moment. When you shift in his arms, confusion settling on your face as you gaze at him questioningly, he chuckles. 

“What do you mean?” you respond, resisting the urge to caress his cheek as he smiles at you. It’s breathtaking, just as it always has been, and you find yourself wishing you could drown in it. 

“In a house, I mean,” then, realizing he doesn’t mean just that, he continues. “Well, I guess in general. For the future. Anything, really.”

A list of possibilities filters through your head. You think about a big house, a penthouse apartment, a traditional home settled between rice fields. You think about big windows and the bright sunlight streaming through them, about hardwood floors and old fireplaces. You think about two-storied homes with enough rooms to allow your friends to visit and fill the halls with love and laughter. You think about yellow rooms and blue rooms, tall walls, and wood walls filled to the brim with photos of your loved ones. 

And then, Atsumu. 

A brief sense of confusion fills you as you turn to look at him again, resting comfortably against his side. “What do you mean?” again, you repeat yourself. 

Atsumu, ever bewildered, opens his mouth to speak. 

Then, he stops himself. 

“I just want you.”

Your words feel intimate, and it causes Atsumu to feel shocked to the core. He suddenly can’t bring himself to speak, realizing that words are simply not enough at this moment. All he can do is blink slowly, a melancholic look taking over his features, as he leans down a bit to better see you. 

And they are words that have never felt more true. As soon as you said them, you realized that he’s all you’ve ever wanted, ever needed. It’s always been him, and it’s something that’s been ingrained in you both for years. 

Because Atsumu feels like home, and he’s the only home you could ever need. 

Bringing a hand to cup your cheek, Atsumu allows a small moment of vulnerability to pass between you. You lean into his touch, and while unused to this kind of affection from him, you accept it gratefully. He brushes a calloused thumb over your cheekbone, slightly catching under your eye, his breath hitching as your eyelashes flutter against the pads of his fingers. 

“Ya’ promise?” Atsumu mimics the movie, his voice low and eyes half-lidded with hopefulness. 

The tension steadily builds between you, ushering in a sense of anticipation as you simply bask in the other’s attention. Atsumu’s eyes graze over your features, taking all your expressions in with a satiated look on his face. For a moment, you believe he looks a bit like how Noah looks at Allie: full of love and adoration, like she holds the world in her eyes. 

His gaze dips to your lips as he nudges you again. “You promise?” he asks, a bit more insistent this time—as if he needs to hear your answer. 

Atsumu’s tongue swipes along his bottom lip, and the action immediately steals your attention. Warmth spreads across your chest as his eyes flicker back up to your own, before distractedly moving to your lips. His body leans towards you unconsciously, instinctively, and you find yourself moving similarly. 

“I promise,” you whisper, voice a bit breathless, as you stare at him. Atsumu may be looking at you as if you hold the world in your eyes, but you find yourself thinking it to be untrue; you’re certain of the fact, because how can you hold the world in your eyes if it’s already enclosed in Atsumu’s? 

“You’re all I’ve ever needed,” you admit, swallowing thickly. You blink multiple times, warding away the small sting of tears that threaten your lashline. However, Atsumu notices—when it comes to you, he always does. His thumb catches a stray tear, and you want to curse the traitorous wetness that continues building in your eyes. 

“Why’re ya’ crying?” he asks, voice laced with concern. He brushes away your tears, his attention preoccupied with the way your skin feels under his touch. Dragging the wetness across your cheeks, he swallows a similar kind of painful thickness lodged in his throat, realizing that he’s about to start crying, too. 

A watery laugh falls past your lips, and Atsumu has never wanted to kiss you more. “Why’re you crying?” you ask, a bittersweet smile making its way onto your face. Placing your palm on top of the hand that’s cradling your face, you press your lips there for a barely-there kiss. 

Atsumu’s gaze follows your movements, a million confessions sitting, afraid, on the tip of his tongue. He chuckles, an airy sound, full of unshed tears, as he swipes a finger across your cheekbone. “‘M not cryin’. But you are. Why?” 

You fight the urge to duck your head, entranced in the small space of time where Atsumu’s attention borders that of love. “I don’t know,” you admit, your tone a bit scared. Taking a shaky breath, you allow yourself to fall into vulnerability, comforted by Atsumu’s touch. 

He nods, taking in your words with a kind of seriousness that’s unlike him, but not entirely uncommon. It’s a look you’ve held witness to a few times in your years of friendship, and each time, it causes your head to spin. “That’s okay,” he states, before his voice takes on a more assured tone. “‘S okay to not know. And it’s okay to not be okay.”

Somewhere in your heart, his words settle. They smooth away the tense confusion you’ve held onto for weeks now, brushing aside any insecurity or self-doubt that comes with the sense of loss you’ve held onto. His words clear away the shadows, calming the storming waves in a way that only Atsumu can. He settles your body, settles your heart, calming down the raging storm that’s recently taken shelter inside you. 

They settle in your heart warmly, comfortingly, and, suddenly, you know that everything will be okay. 

“I only need you too, ya’ know,” he murmurs, still not breaking the breathtaking eye contact you hold. Atsumu’s eyes, always so full of brightness and life, are a bit dark, drawn together in a look you recognize but can’t place. “Always.”

His thumb is rough as it dances across your lips, brushing past them in a gesture that toes the line between ‘friends’ and ‘lovers.’ 

Neither of you mentions it. 

“It’ll be okay,” Atsumu sighs, finally breaking the contact to pull you into a warm embrace. Like muscle memory, your arms circle around his waist as his make their way around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him. He tucks your head under his chin, and you grip tightly onto his shirt as he comforts you. “Everything happens for a reason,” he assures you, and you know he’s talking about the thoughts and feelings that have been afflicting you recently. 

“You’re my best friend, ‘Tsumu,” you confide in him, even though it’s a truth you both are distinctly aware of. 

Atsumu’s heart yearns as you clutch to him. It desires to hear something else fall past your lips, a confession that he’s more than just your best friend. He desperately aches to hear you tell him you love him, that he’s your entire world; that he always has been and always will be.

He aches to tell you that he’s in love with you.

“Yer my best friend too,” he says instead, leaning down with a short burst of courage to press a kiss to the crown of your head. You sigh against him, sinking into his touch. “But don’t tell ‘Samu I said that.”

At his sudden humorous words and the slight tinge of fear that laces them, you let out a laugh. It’s genuine, bright, and breathless, and now it’s Atsumu who feels the tug of the waves crashing upon his heart. 

“I won’t if you won’t,” you conclude, pulling away to look at him. Atsumu’s eyes are rimmed with red—evidence of how he let a few tears of his own slip out—but his lips are turned into a charming grin. 

He holds out a pinkie—a childish gesture, but one that fills you with a brief sense of belonging and nostalgia. “Promise?” he asks.

Similar memories flash in your head as you hold out your pinkie, entwining it with his own. “I promise.”

The feeling of loss dissipates as the days pass, and the waves return to their soft lull. Soon, you forget about the biting feeling that had formed a dark pit in your stomach, the confusion and sense of uncertainty no longer retaining a place at the forefront of your mind. You fell back into the regular motions of your life, and the sense of familiarity that came with it was comforting. 

“‘M actually getting pretty excited,” Atsumu states. He bounces a bit on the tips of his toes, the adrenaline apparent as he refuses to sit still. However, an air of nervous energy surrounds him, causing him to move around a bit more restlessly than normally. 

“Yeah, right,” you indulge him, knocking against his shoulder as you make your way up the wooden steps of the bathhouse. It’s traditional, a small place in the country, with red clay roof tiles stacked on top of each other and dark wood columns supporting it. 

As you push open the front door, a small counter greets you, and you nudge your shoes off in the genkan before slipping on the provided slippers. You smile to yourself at the neat, orderly sight of them, arranged in multiple sizes, all colored in a pretty cream. 

A small, older lady sits at the counter, a tiny book in her hands as a table fan juts in her direction. Years line her face, decorating prominently around her eyes and the corners of her lips—slightly upturned as if in a constant smile. Her hands appear soft and gentle as she turns the page of her book, the white strands of her hair tied in an intricate braid. 

“Hello,” Atsumu greets her, offering a formal introduction. The older lady places her book down, a hand coming to her chest as she graces you with a full laugh. It’s a hearty sound, one full of the years of life that can only come with age, as she smiles kindly at you. 

“Goodness, you frightened me. But no matter—how may I help you?” she asks, taking her glasses perched atop her hair and settling them in place. 

“Um,” you walk forward, digging in your bag for the coupons. 

“Mind your step, dear,” she offers, raising her brows and pointing slightly at the raised step of the genkan. You smile at her in thanks, and you and Atsumu step in front of the counter. 

“I have these,” you say, placing them on the wood. It’s lacquered under your hand, polished lovingly to where you can see streaks of different browns. 

Adjusting the thin-rimmed glasses, she picks the papers up, curiously looking at them. She reads over the tiny font, lips moving incomprehensibly, until a bright smile lightens her features once again. 

“Ah! I see. And you’re here for the couple’s special, yes?” she asks, peeking at you from under her glasses. Her gaze shifts between you and Atsumu, and before you can correct her common mistake, Atsumu speaks up. 

“Yes, please. We’re very excited. Never tried a traditional bathhouse before,” you take note of how his accent seems to diminish, his words forming polite sentences in front of the elderly woman. 

You glare cutely at him, but the look is promptly wiped off your face when Atsumu grabs your hand, entwining your fingers together. 

His fingers are warm as they lace with your own, the pads of his fingertips brushing over your knuckles comfortingly. Your heart stutters in your chest as he continues talking to the sweet older woman, watching how she coos over how cute you two look. 

“...of course, you have to shower first—which are located back there,” she pauses, turning around in her wooden chair to point towards a door. It hangs off the left, and you assume if you travel beyond it, showers will lead you to the main bathhouse. “Then you’re free to go to the bath. I have you in the private one, situated near the back. You shouldn’t get lost.”

You thank her for her help, and Atsumu continues holding your hand as you make your way to the showers. 

“So, ya wanna shower together, too?” Atsumu jokes. You quickly punch his shoulder, separating from his hand, and he snickers. “What—we’re already gonna be takin’ a bath together. Why not go all the way—ow! Okay, okay! I got it.”

Atsumu rubs his shoulder where you just hit a bit harder than previously. “Geez, ya got a lot of strength there,” he murmurs, pouting. 

“I learned from the best,” you muse, voice lilting up in a singsong tone. 

“Whatever,” Atsumu huffs, rolling his shoulder back exaggeratedly. “I’ll see ya back there?” he asks, stopping in the hallway in front of the shower doors. 

“Yeah, don’t take forever,” you tease, attempting to stifle the nervousness that creeps up. 

He offers you a gentle smile—one that instantly calms you down, before stepping into his shower room. The door closes with a soft click behind him, and, just like that, you find yourself alone in the tiled hallway. 

Biting your lip, you try not to let your nervousness consume you. You distract your thoughts, focusing on not biting your lip as you swivel on your heel to enter the opposite shower room. 

As you wash with a lavender-scented soap, you can’t help but think of how bold this is. In a few minutes, you will be naked with your best friend, sitting side-by-side in the large bath. You feel your palms sweat despite the water rolling off your body, and you have to take a few centering breaths to calm yourself. 

It doesn’t mean anything. Nothing is going to change. You’re simply taking advantage of Osamu’s charity by indulging in a traditional bathhouse. 

With your best friend. Who you just so happen to be in love with. 

You heave a sigh as you turn off the faucets, feeling properly clean. Slipping on your slippers, you wrap a warm, fluffy towel around your body, securing it neatly under your arm before you gather enough courage to open the door.

It’s easy enough to find the private bath, and as you brace a palm against the door, you smother any traces of nervous energy that bubble inside your chest. You silently wonder if you’d rather Atsumu already be in the room, waiting for you in the water, or to be the first one to arrive. Then, other thoughts invade your mind. Is he excited? Is he nervous? Does he also feel a sense of anticipation about doing something so intimate together? The older woman had mistaken you as a couple—does he wish you were a couple? And, after your movie night together, does he view you differently? 

As you push open the door, you’re greeted by the sight of Atsumu, already lounging against the back wall of the bath. Bubbles surround the water—you’re grateful that they cover anything below the water, and are sure they are only allowed since it is a private bath. 

“Hey,” you murmur a bit nervously. 

“Hey,” Atsumu responds. 

You distract yourself by glancing around the room—it’s large, similar to the rest of the building in terms of wood surrounding the floors and walls. It’s beautiful, as the different tones trace along the smoothed, lacquered surface, and you note that even the water appears fresh and soothing. Heat curls around the room, steam rising around the water and the tiny fountains that pour into the large bath. 

“Ya’ okay?” Atsumu breaks your reverie, pulling you back to the present. 

You nod, forcing a smile onto your face as you clutch the towel tighter around your chest. 

“Ya’ gonna get in…?” Atsumu asks, dipping his head down to peer at you. Though his words are encouraging, they are not unkind, and you feel slightly silly for feeling so out of place.

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, biting your lip in thought. “Just, could you turn around, please?” you ask. 

Atsumu watches as you shift your footing, his hand curling around the edge of the bath as it rests there. “Yeah, of course.”

True to his word, Atsumu turns around and even makes a show of covering his eyes with his hands. You laugh at the sight, trying not to become distracted at the sight of his broad back, slightly tan and stretched with muscle. 

“And no peeking!” you scold, raising a finger to mockingly shake at him. His shoulders move with silent laughter, but you can hear it in his voice as he responds. 

“I promise,” he affirms, closing his eyes from under his fingers. 

Hesitantly, but not due to being uncomfortable around Atsumu, you allow the towel to slip from your hold. You don’t feel cold as your bare body meets the air, and instead feel comforted as the steam instantly curls around you. It embraces your body as you grip onto your elbows, hurriedly moving to step into the water. 

First, your ankles sink into the warm bath, slowly encompassing your calves and thighs as you step further. It laps against you comfortingly, and again you’re faced with the calming scent of lavender as the bubbles work their way up your skin. 

All the while, Atsumu remains turned away, obediently listening to your wishes. 

You make your way to fully rest in the bath, sinking down onto a step until your breasts are hidden beneath the milky water and pure bubbles. The heat that rises on the surface causes your nipples to harden beneath the water, and again you find yourself fighting the urge to cover your already hidden skin. 

You sit across from Atsumu, and when you’re fully prepared, you speak up. “You can turn around now.”

Atsumu, always wanting to make you feel safe, chuckles. It’s a smooth sound that spreads across your body, settling at home next to your heart. The warmth runs down your arms, reaching the tips of your fingers as you slowly stretch beneath the water.

Beside you, one of the faucets guides more steaming water into the bath.

“Yer decent?” he jokes, before slowly turning around. Atsumu settles against his step once again, his gaze not leaving your eyes as he chuckles. 

You realize, with fondness, that he’s doing everything in his power to put you at ease. 

“Yeah,” you retort, “You only wish I wasn’t.”

Instead of denying your statement, Atsumu only raises his hands. Water trickles down his forearms as he ducks his head, making a movement as if surrendering to you. You find your eyes drawn to the light hairs that smooth down his arm, to how his muscles strain slightly. 

“Never said I didn’t,” he responds smoothly, looking up at you from under half-lidded eyes. 

Finding yourself distracted once again by the strength present in his arms, you attempt a rebuttal. “What is it they say in that one movie?” you ask, tilting your head in thought. 

“Which one?” Atsumu scoffs, rolling his head to lean against the back of the bath. “There are a lot of ‘em, ya know.”

You scowl—a sight he misses due to how he lazily rests his head back—before you scoop a fresh tumble of lavender bubbles in your hand. Gathering a bit of courage, you lethargically make your way closer to Atsumu, carefully holding the bubbles in the palm of your hand. 

Atsumu realizes all too late what he has coming for him, only learning of your attack after the bubbles were mashed against his hair. 

“What were you saying?” you muse, a joking tone to your words. Atsumu whines as he fusses with his hair, muttering something along the lines about you ‘never being nice ta me.’

“You know, the one with Leonardo DiCaprio and Margot Robbie?” you nudge him, now comfortable to sit side-by-side. 

Atsumu takes note of this, still patting down his hair and pouting under his breath. 

“The Wolf of Wall Street?” he asks, his arm still raised to rid himself of any extra bubbles that might’ve escaped his grasp. 

Snapping your fingers, you turn to face him triumphantly. “That’s it! Anyways, what was the saying? Ah! ‘Stop flexin’ ya muscles, ‘Tsumu. Ya look like a fuckin’ imbecile.’”

Atsumu, not amused, takes a brief pause. “Not sure that’s how it went, but okay.”

You laugh—a genuine sound that causes Atsumu to grin despite your teasing. It’s refreshing to see the look cross your features, softening the harsh lines that have formed around your forehead in the past weeks. 

“Well, if the shoe fits,” you laugh, playfully slapping his shoulder. 

You both pause at the touch, neither of you moving. 

Atsumu’s skin is tanned and wet underneath your touch, and you can still feel him tensing his muscles. You wonder if he’s doing it unconsciously—he must be, as his gaze is rested on your face, drinking in your every expression. 

A choked laugh escapes his lips; curiously, you wonder why it sounds slightly panicked. “It’d have to be a pretty big shoe. Ya know what they say,” he grins. 

He turns his head and scratches the nape of his neck—as if embarrassed—and you find a similar heat making its way up your neck. The notion of his statement leaves you reeling, and you’re suddenly curious, wishing the water was a bit clearer so as to affirm or disprove his claim. 

You continue simply basking in the other’s company, but the increasing tension that mounts between you is irrefutable. Perhaps it’s the heat that surrounds your bodies, cradling you in a dizzying embrace as the water laps at your shoulders, around Atsumu’s waist. Perhaps it’s because you’re both bare, your naked bodies mere inches away from each other. His previous statement, no matter how joking, only continues to pique your curiosity, nudging at your mind and throwing your thoughts down a spiraling rabbit hole. 

You want to know what it would be like to be encased in those arms, his muscles tensing around your head as he cages you against the bath. You’d like to see the flushed look on his face, how his messy hair would hang low across his forehead; you’d like to see how he would lean into your touch, how his mouth would fall open when you’d brush the hair away from his eyes. How his eyes would glaze with lust as you’d bring your chest above the water, hands tugging at his waist to kiss you, deeply. How he would moan and press himself against you, nudging his hips to rest between yours, his stiffening cock pressed against your thigh. 

You can almost imagine how soft and heated his lips would feel, plump and swollen, dragging down your skin, brushing against your neck as your fingers would tangle in his hair. 

The drawl to Atsumu’s voice appears more strained than usual, and you’re almost certain he can feel how tense you are next to him. 

Atsumu, ever the gentleman, pretends not to notice. 

He can’t deny how intimate it feels to be with you in this aspect. He can’t deny how his heart pounds, or how a different kind of heat settles in the pit of his stomach. The nervous, slightly panicky edge to his mood still hadn’t diminished, and he’s certain you’re aware of that fact—namely due to his knee bouncing incessantly under the water, forming centric circles on the surface. 

He has a hard time concentrating on anything that isn’t you. Your voice draws him in, and he quickly finds himself reeling in the sound of it. How your annotations pick up, when you add a slight lilt to your words as you laugh about something. The way the syllables form on your tongue, curling around his ears until he’s basking in it. Years of friendship reside on your tongue, and while Atsumu cherishes it like no other, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like for another kind of relationship to blossom under your words. What would it be like, he wonders, to kiss you breathless, to steal the words from your throat as he’d cradle your body close to him, pouring nearly a decade’s worth of emotion into you.

Atsumu suddenly finds the high temperatures to be suffocating, sweat beading along his forehead as an innate sense of restlessness rises inside him. 

“You okay?” you ask, confused at his sudden lack of input. 

Atsumu straightens, mulling over the possibilities in his head before he lands on honesty. “No, not really,” he admits, and his brows draw together as he frowns. 

He doesn’t know what prompts him to finally admit part of his feelings. He isn’t aware of any innate shift within himself, nor is he privy to any of the thoughts hidden behind your eyes. The shift isn’t noticeable, instead skirting along the thin air and disappearing beneath whispered words—as if carried hopefully on the wind. 

Atsumu knows that he can no longer hide himself from you, an intense need filling his chest to finally bring to light the honesty you both crave. 

Because, when he looks at you, he sees his home, and the reminder that all you want is each other. 

As he looks at you with a slightly torn look on his face, concern overtakes your features, pinching your lips as your eyes flit between his. Atsumu appears to hesitate, almost drawing in on himself before he meets your gaze. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, unable to hide the panic present in between the syllables. 

He winces, and you notice that his breathing comes faster than before. It’s a bit shallower, and you suddenly wonder if the temperature of the water is too hot. You have half a mind to step out of the bath, to fiddle with the knobs in a poor attempt to lower the intense heat swirling in the air.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he states, and you can see the muscles in his neck straining as he avoids your gaze. 

Unease fills you, storming against your chest and filling the empty spots around your heart. The pit of uncertainty opens up again, and you bring a warm hand to rest on his shoulder. “‘Tsumu…”

“I can’t—” he begins, shrugging and taking a shaky breath. Your eyes follow his movements, confusion still lacing your features as you patiently wait for him to gather his thoughts. “I can’t be by ya like this.”

Again, a sudden sense of hurt fills you, and you quickly shrink on yourself. 

“Oh,” is all you can say. You begin drawing your hand away from his shoulder, but you’re quickly interrupted. 

Atsumu moves to rest his palm on top of your hand, holding it in place over his skin. He’s heated, the warmth radiating off of him pleasantly, but still enough to leave you dizzy. 

“Let me finish,” he pleads, his grip on your hand flooding your body with affection. Carefully, slowly, you nod, your eyes not leaving his as he takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I should be by ya’ like this—‘cause all I can think about is touchin’ ya’ in ways I shouldn’t.”

His words are truthful, and it causes your mind to go blank. 

"In lovin' ya' in ways I shouldn't want to."

There are no words that could possibly break through the tension—the tension that skyrockets with his words, balancing precariously as it weighs between you heavily. It waits for your response, and you liken it to the feeling of standing on the tips of your toes, arms stretched out with a hopeful feeling in your chest that maybe you won't fall.

However, the balance is always tipped, crashing down due to the coarse waves that crash against the shore. 

"You—what?" your words are broken, halted between syllables caught in your throat. Then, a nervous laugh escapes your chest, and you press a palm to cover your heart. 

Atsumu doesn't respond, content to watch as his words sink into your beating heart, imprinting along your skin. 

"What do you mean?" you ask, this time more insistently. Atsumu's eyes are pleading and dark as they bore into your own, and you find yourself brimming with an adrenaline-filled hope that buzzes throughout your veins. 

"Ya' know what I mean," he prods, urging you to understand the hidden meaning between his words. 

Internally pleading for you to hear the confession laced in his tone—to hear the words he's still too afraid to speak out loud. 

A new sense of confusion befalls you, not quite similar to the one you'd been feeling recently. It fills your chest, surrounding your stuttering heart as you make a poor attempt to form words. They seem to get lodged in your throat—or maybe your mind—as you simply sit there, eyes wide and mouth parted in a shocked, quiet stupor. Because, yes, perhaps you do know what he means. But does that mean you're willing to admit it to yourself? To bask in the hopefulness that carries his words, to allow the gleeful optimism to make a home in your heart? 

"Atsumu, I—" but you're quickly cut off, a raised hand coming to rest against your cheek. 

"Don't have ta say anything," he reassures you, and you find yourself leaning into his touch. The pads of his fingertips brush against your cheek, running over your jaw. You quickly bring a hand up to meet his, curling your fingers through his and melting at the affectionate smile he offers you. 

This time, when the dark waves surface, you find that they're no longer as dark as they have been and don't carry a deep sense of uncertainty and foreboding. 

This time, when they lap against your heart, they do not open a bottomless pit inside you, instead ushering in a forlorn feeling of love for Miya Atsumu. 

"Promise?" you ask, and Atsumu knows it's in relation to his previous confession. You're asking him if his words are truthful—if he truly does care for you in the way he's hinting.

He chuckles as a sort of complacency fills the spaces between you, bridging the gap. Leaning forward, he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, careful to not touch any other part of your body. 

"Promise," he returns, and when he pulls away, the look in his eyes is enough to have you aching for his touch again. 

"We'll be okay?" you prose, looking at him with a hopeful glance. The need that seeps from your words causes Atsumu's heart to jump, and he wants nothing more than to pull you into a comforting embrace, to ensure your happiness. 

"You'll be okay," he murmurs, holding the truth of his words close to his heart. 

You know his words don't just cover his confession and instead encompass all the pain and uncertainty you'd been feeling as of late. You find no more words are needed, instead lulled by the soothing sense of relief that floods you at the realization. 

You will be okay. 

The rest of your time passes briefly as you are suspended in time. It's weightless as you simply bask in each other's company, feeling an immense bout of comfort from being in the other's arms. Being like this, embraced by Atsumu like so, soothed by the notion of his slight confession, you no longer fear the threat of uncertainties that previously plagued you. The sense of loss and fear you once felt is not gone but healed, and that notion in and of itself is more comforting than any other. It's the idea that you can live with the pain you forced upon yourself, the small cracks of your composure now filled with gold. With Atsumu's help, and the assistance of your loved ones, your fear of the future dissipated. 

And you find yourself realizing that, no matter what happens, it all occurs for a reason, and you will always have the memories of your loved ones to comfort you. It fills you with a sense of serenity, one that you tuck away carefully in your heart, knowing that you can return to the feeling if need be. 

Now, instead of lying listlessly at night, worrying vehemently over what the future may bring, you curiously ponder your relationship with Atsumu. When had his feelings shifted, and how long had you not realized it? Has he harbored these feelings for long, or were they recent findings? 

You find that the answers fail you even days later, where the only distraction to your thoughts is the friendly laughter of your friends. 

Kita sits pleasantly across from you, traces of sun still present on his skin. He grins, silently asking if you're okay, before turning back to the boisterous and lively conversation. 

You clutch onto your drink, leaning forward as infectious laughter spills from your lips. "Okay, so, wait—" you pause, pointing between Atsumu and Suna. Beside you, Aran chokes on his drink with laughter, slapping his chest as if to dislodge the liquid from his throat. Kita helpfully pats his back and is rewarded with a thankful glance from the other man. "You two actually tried to run away from practice one time?"

Osamu sits next to you, throwing a long arm over your shoulders. He leans back, stretching his legs underneath the table, and pretends to not notice his brother's searing glare.

Wanting to stoke the flames, Osamu pulls you a bit closer. 

"Oh yeah they did," Kita chimes in, an air of bitterness surrounding him. You watch, bemused, as the old captain shakes his head at the two troublemakers—as if still shocked by their bold actions. "Said they didn't wanna do the conditioning drills. So what'd they do?" he asks, raising a palm to gesture at them.

"They ran away," Aran muses, nodding his head distractedly with Kita's words. 

Atsumu and Suna attempt to defend themselves, but their rushed words stumble over each other and are quickly lost as Osamu continues the story. 

"Didn't take their things or anything. They just made up some excuse—what was it again? The bathroom or somethin'? Anyways, they made up some excuse and ran."

"And where was I for all this? I don't remember?" you laugh, shaking your head happily. 

Across the table, Atsumu watches, entranced, at your every reaction. Everyone seems to notice but you. 

"I dunno," Suna pouts, shoving his hands in his pockets. He's clearly unimpressed by the constant teasing, but even he can't hide the small smile that tugs at his lips. "No one was paying attention to that—only to how much trouble Atsumu and I would be in once we got back."

But his words are false; Atsumu was paying attention. 

"Anyways!" Osamu interjects, giving everyone a pointed look as he takes a swig of his drink. "Can I finish now? Will ya' heathens allow me that?" 

You duck out from under his arm at his playful words, swiftly landing a gentle smack on his chest. With a short exclamation of feigned pain, Osamu frowns and rubs at the point of impact. "Out of ya' and 'Tsumu, I thought you were the nice one," he mumbles, but his admittance is enough to have everyone bursting with laughter again. 

"Come on now, we've always known that isn't true!" Kita chuckles, looking between you and Atsumu fondly. "Atsumu has always been the one who gets into trouble, and they," he points to you, "have always been the one to get him out of trouble."

Next to you, Aran nods at his words. "You have to hold a certain amount of toughness to reign Atsumu in," he states solemnly.

"Speaking of 'reigning in,'" you nudge, gesturing around the table, "can someone please finish the story! I want to know what happened!" 

Embarrassed, Atsumu rubs the back of his neck. "Nothin' worth sharing," he attempts to state, but you can't be convinced. 

"I'll be the judge of that," you state, crossing your arms over your chest.

"So what do these two geniuses decide to do? They crawl past the gym—I don't know, maybe they were afraid of someone poking their head out the door and catching them?—and decide to go on a run instead," Aran joins in, a chuckle decorating his words. 

Furrowing your brows, you glance between the two men. "A run? Can't you have thought of something else, a bit more fun, maybe? Like get snacks or something? Maybe go see a movie?" 

You watch as Atsumu stutters over his words, Suna merely giving up to rest his head on the table. 

"See, that's what they'd planned to do, at first," Kita chides them, standing up to ruffle their hair. The sight is endearing, watching the man they'd always looked up to treating them so fondly. "But then they decided to leave all their things—money included."

You quietly protest as Atsumu leans over to steal a bit of your snack, and you sulk as you gently swat his hand away. "Thief," you mutter, carefully cradling the rest of the snack in your hand as you lean away from Atsumu. 

Kita shares a knowing look with Osamu, politely averting his gaze from the interaction. 

"So, you didn't plan it out more?" you ask, furrowing your brows as you munch on the food. Atsumu finds the sight terribly bad for his heart, unable to help himself as a blush settles over his cheeks. "I can see it was definitely a 'Suna and Atsumu' plan, then."

"Be nice be nice be nice! Ta' me!" Atsumu glares, quickly leaning over to snatch another piece of your food. You're faster this time, cradling it to your chest as you shoot him a glare. 

"If you want some, you'll have to pay up, pretty boy," you hum, taking another bite merely to spite him. 

Atsumu pauses, halting in his seat, as his mouth falls open in shock at the endearing nickname. 

"Okay, someone finish the story, please! I'm sitting on the edge of my seat here," you whine, shifting in your seat as if to prove your point further. 

"The ending isn't as interesting as you'd like," Suna begins, rolling his head back to gaze at the ceiling. His feet accidentally kick yours as he stretches, and he shoots you a playful smirk as you glare at him. "They found us after a few hours, and they weren't as pleased with us as we were with ourselves."

Atsumu snorts, looking at the table in disbelief. "That's for sure. I remember we were in so much trouble. Instead of getting to go out to eat before the next game, the coach and captain here—" he juts a thumb in Kita's direction "—made us stay behind and do the drills we missed."

"Three times over," Suna adds, wincing as if he still feels the phantom soreness in his muscles. 

You chuckle at the ending, shaking your head as you take a sip of your drink. "Well, I don't really blame them. Sounds like you two had it coming. Still, I can't believe I've never heard this before," you state, shrugging.

As Kita and Aran begin conversing among themselves, soon drawing Osamu into the conversation, Atsumu moves to stand up. Your eyes follow his every move, raising your brows slightly as he makes his way to you. 

"Be right back," he leans down to whisper to you comfortingly, squeezing your shoulders in a brief touch and pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You close your eyes at the feeling, sinking into his touch for a moment, before he starts to walk away. 

"So you two finally got together, huh?" Kita’s voice breaks through the now-quiet atmosphere, bringing all conversation to a stilted hold. A pause settles between your group, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife, before your shocked voice cracks. 

"Sorry—what?" you ask, furrowing your brows. You shake your head at his words, rattling them around in your brain—as if it would help them to make more sense. A feeling of panic creeps in on you at Kita’s knowing look, glancing between you and Atsumu as if his words were unmistakable. 

You wonder if your feelings have always been clear to everyone but you.

"Nothing—it's just good to see you two finally admit it to each other," Kita finishes, a pleased look passing over his face as he grins at you. 

He seems to be the only one to not realize the heavy weight of his words—as well as the fact that you and Atsumu are certainly not together. 

As you and Atsumu stand in stilted shock—too flustered to say anything—Osamu swoops in. 

"Alright, that's enough from the peanut gallery," he states helpfully, moving to stand and clap a hand over Kita’s loud mouth. Kita shoots him a confused glare, fingers curling around Osamu’s to pry his hand away from his lips. 

"Just ignore him," Aran leans forward, conspiratorially sharing a look with you. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

But, as the night settles on, the mood gradually uplifting with every nostalgic story that passes between lips, your mind can't help but settle on Kita’s words repeatedly. Was there some hidden meaning between his words, something you missed? Was he simply playing coy, wanting to stir something in you and Atsumu in his own form of mischievousness? You find that the answer is lost on you, and as the night ends and goodbyes are exchanged, you once again find yourself at a loss for words. 

The drive back to Atsumu's place is quiet, a million words resting unspoken between you. They hang tense—as if balancing on a thin wire—and threaten to spill past your lips with every errant bump in the road. The back and forth is nearly suffocating, stifling the air in your lungs until every breath that leaves your lips and every thought that enters your head is Atsumu, Atsumu, Atsumu. 

As you cross the threshold of Atsumu's home—a second home to you, as well—you have trouble concentrating on anything else except the incessant swirl of thoughts. 

"Wanna watch some movies? I have a few good ones picked out—" you begin, toeing off your shoes by the door.

"I think I need ta' say somethin'," Atsumu interrupts you, a thick hesitancy coating his words.

He pauses, bracing a hand against the countertop behind him. Atsumu allows his words to sink in slowly, allowing them to roll around your head, curiously tilting in question. It hangs ominously in the air, threatening to change the very foundation your relationship was built on. It's a scary thought, he realizes, to hold the world near the palm of his hand, so close yet still so far. However, he can't deny the rough burgeoning of his emotions, nor the meaning behind them, and he sighs, giving in to the explanation you both crave.

"You do?" you ask, suddenly stilling in front of him.

Atsumu leans against the counter for support, dipping his head down in a slow nod. "I think I should," he admits lowly, his gaze nervously avoiding yours. He chooses to trace along the lines and divots of the floors in his kitchen, tracing over their smooth preciseness. "I think ya' deserve it. I think I owe it ta' the both of us."

I think, I think, I think. The words feel like weighted cement in his thoughts because they're untrue. Clumsily strung together, laced with a visible panic that makes itself present in the slight bouncing of his knee. It's a fib—an omission of truth—Atsumu realizes, because he doesn't think.

He knows. 

All you can do is stand before him, wringing your wrists together as anticipation begins to lick at the air fervently. 

When he finally raises his head to look at you again, the passionate intensity in his gaze causes you to nearly stumble. There's an assuredness in his eyes as they flicker between your own, silently asking if it's okay that he continue. 

"Please?" he pleads one last time. You watch his knuckles that grip the counter turn white, then fade to a pinkish blush as he tightens his hold. Slowly, cautiously, you move forward, your steps careful as you stand in front of him. 

Without any words, you reach a hand out, gently placing it on top of Atsumu's, and easily uncurl his fingers from the edge. He watches as you do so, the look on his face imperceptible as he unconsciously moves his body to lean closer to yours. 

"There," you murmur, your heart beating wildly in your chest. You don't let go of Atsumu's hand as you face him, meeting his gaze with a determined look. Fondly, he threads his fingers through yours, entwining them until your palms press together in a mirror of a kiss. 

Then, aching to relieve some of the distress that coils around his form, you cup his cheek. "Talk to me," you urge, not unkindly. 

Atsumu has a hard time focusing with you so close to him. He wants to curl into your touch, wrap himself in your arms and tuck you in his embrace. Your hands are warm as you hold his face, the pads of your fingertips gently tracing over his cheekbone, running across the slight curve of his jawline, before you rest it against the pink blush of his cheek.

You don't mention it, and Atsumu is grateful.

Taking a deep breath, Atsumu wills himself to not back down—to say the words so desperate to break free of his chest. 

"I know you've been strugglin' lately," he begins, and you feel the tension in his jaw as he bites his lip. You don't move, simply allowing him to sift through his words, thoughtfully picking his phrases. "And I just want you to know that everythin' will be okay."

The words are simple, yet they are enough. They are enough to fill you with the sweet relief of comfort, washing away any uncertainties that still lay rest in your mind. 

"I've been tryin' ta think of what could help ya' feel better," Atsumu continues, slowly trekking through his thoughts to form them in appropriate words. "Honestly, I have no clue. I've thought about it over and over, and I still can't think of anything to make ya' feel better."

You want to sigh at his sweetness, to reassure him that he's perfect. "'Tsumu…"

He holds up a finger, and you're immediately quiet. "Hold on," he struggles for a moment, then continues, "I know I'm not the best at this. I'm not the best at a lot of things, I think. But there are also some things that I'm good at."

You nod, furrowing your brows as you internally wonder where he's going with his words. 

"For example, I know I'm good at makin' ya' smile. At makin' ya' laugh," as if to further accentuate his words, he playfully pokes your side. He smiles as a huff of laughter graces his ears. "See? Just like that."

You grin at him as he smiles, a proud upturn to his gaze. It feels incredibly intimate, and Atsumu punctuates it by placing his hand on your own. 

"'M good at volleyball—objectively, that is," he states, chuckling a bit at the self-deprecating joke. You pinch his cheek gently, but a fond smile plays around your lips in a way that leaves Atsumu feeling content. 

"Don't joke about yourself like that," you chide, "you're really good at volleyball. Everyone knows this."

"Yeah, well," he swallows thickly, and you watch as his adam's apple bobs in his throat. "'M better at other things. Wanna hear 'em?" 

Breathlessly, you nod—as if in a trance. 

The moment is shrouded in a sense of intimacy and fondness that has you both leaning into each other. You reach for the feeling, grasping for it on the tips of your fingers, aching to better revel in the sweetness as it surrounds you. 

"'M good at being a brother, a friend," he nods along with his words as if ingraining them in his mind. You think, briefly, that he needs to hear these words as much as you do. "'Samu might disagree, but I think he'd be lyin'."

You chuckle, letting your head fall a bit as you smile warmly. "No, he wouldn't disagree," you state, sure of that fact. Atsumu simply shrugs, tilting his head to the side in an adorable fashion. 

Atsumu hesitates, once again curling into your touch. You watch as his eyes flit nervously between you and the floor, his other hand returning to the counter to incessantly grip it. Pain prickles your heart at the sight of him so obviously conflicted, and you urge him to look at you. 

"Hey," you call to him, pressing your palm against his cheek. You guide him to face you again, and the vulnerability that gleams in his eyes is enough to drown in, you're sure. "Come back to me."

Distantly, your phone rings; you both ignore it, the ringing bouncing teasingly off the walls, until it eventually tapers out.

He becomes restless, feeling as if the chance to fully reveal his thoughts to you could slip through his fingers. Atsumu's heart clenches almost painfully as you look at him, bringing with your gaze dark waves that crash upon his heart, flooding it with adoration for you. He finds that his breathing comes in shaky, shuddering breath—as if the water in his heart is real, stealing the air out of his lungs and leaving him with nothing left. 

But then, a sense of serenity passes through, and the waves feel hopeful instead of suffocating. They feel refreshing as they lap against his chest, pulling out of his heart all the words he's always been too afraid to say—save for when he murmured them against his pillow during restless nights thinking of you, or practicing in front of the mirror while shaving. 

And, while he's still afraid of confessing to you—of changing everything—Atsumu finds comfort in you. 

It comforts him that not all confessions are these grandiose, extravagant productions. That they do not always come with detailed speeches, a beautiful bouquet of flowers, words of love filtering past the blissful euphoria that comes from telling someone you love just how much you love them. 

Sometimes, they occur in small kitchens, with an air of nervous energy surrounding them, and two best friends dangling precariously over the open water. 

"I think I'm good at being your best friend," Atsumu states, his heart pounding erratically in his chest before he continues, "and I'm good at being in love with you."

And finally, the waves settle, smoothing across the water until they disappear under the surface. The hope you'd held onto since the bathhouse formed a beautiful conclusion in your heart, and you feel overjoyed at knowing his true feelings.

 A pause is held in the air between you, the mood shifting as your palm that rests on his cheek falters. Atsumu holds you there, a content look settling among his shoulders as he allows the total weight of his words to sink in. 

To settle at home in your heart. 

No words can satiate you right now; an intense storm rages inside you, but as Atsumu smiles at you, you find that you don't care if it thrashes you back and forth. 

Atsumu holds you close, and you can feel his heart racing against your chest as you merely bask in the comfort of each other. You feel dizzy, full of a comforting bliss stretching across your limbs. It can be likened to that of refreshing water washing over your skin, dipping into a cool pool as the water laps at your chest. The adrenaline buzzes throughout your body as you fully come to terms with Atsumu's confession, allowing the words to cool across your skin and settle at home in your heart. 

And you know his words are true. It's been an innate truth since you were young. Ever since you were children, you and Atsumu have been inseparable, almost more so than him and his twin. Where one found Atsumu, they found you, gripping onto his hand. Where one found you, they found Atsumu close by, attached to you by the hip. It wasn't something you ever grew out of, and, eventually, you no longer found home in your respective beds. You no longer found 'home' in your house, surrounded by your families. You no longer found 'home' in the threshold of your kitchen, or in the books stacked, lovingly used, pages old and spines cracked, on your bookshelf. 

You found home in each other. 

And now, you found love in each other, too. 

"I…" you begin, stuttering as you struggle to find the words. 

Atsumu simply looks at you, patience decorating his features. He holds your palm to his face, turning his head ever so slightly to place a kiss on your fingertips—his gaze never leaving yours. 

"You promise?" you whisper, eyes flitting to his eyes down to his lips. With a shocking realization, you find that his do the same, his hooded eyes—melted in different shades of brown honey, lingering delicately on your lips. 

Atsumu chuckles at the phrase you'd often repeated for years, nostalgia and fondness infiltrating the sweet smile he holds. 

"I promise," he simply states, moving your hand to brush against his lips. He holds you there, eyes searching yours for any hesitance. When he finds none, he drags the pads of your fingers over his soft lips, and you shiver as he presses tiny kisses to each one. 

Taking a deep breath, you break the intense concentration you held on the way his lips feel under his touch. "Miya Atsumu," you state, growing in confidence as you stand up straight. 

"Hm?" he hums against you, entwining your fingers together before bringing them down to rest against your sides. Atsumu raises his brow as you quietly encourage him to continue, hoping that you don't feel the intense way his heart thrums under his shirt.

In an effort to help, Atsumu cradles your cheeks in his large hands, and the warmth from his palms causes a wave of bliss to wash over you. You feel yourself sinking into his touch, immediately soothed by the familiarity that resides there. His heart beat pulses along his skin, resting along the tips of his fingers—with great satisfaction, you note that your hearts are almost beating in tandem. 

"You're my best friend, and I am so in love with you," you admit.

Atsumu's breath catches in his throat, and he leans over you a bit, crowding your body against the opposite counter. You allow him to slowly guide you—his steps careful and hesitant. When your back meets the back of the counter, Atsumu's arms come to brace around you, smoothing down your hips and the side of your leg with a knowing look. 

"You are, now?" he asks, sweetly, slightly cheekily. You nod, unable to form coherent words. Atsumu takes when you give him, running his hand down the side of your leg, one of them resting against your cheek.

"Are you sure?" he suddenly asks, scared. You hear the nervousness in his tone, in the slight tremble of his words, and the shaky breath he lets out. Your fingers catch against his collarbone, quickly smoothing circles over his heart, easily slipping under the hem of his neck to press against his heart. 

"I'm always sure," you nod, tapping your fingers against his collarbone. Then, in a mirrored movement, you take Atsumu's hand and—with great courage—bring it to dip under the neck of your shirt, pressing against your heart. 

"This is yours," you murmur, pointedly pressing his fingers against your heart. You can feel the vibrant thrum coursing through your body, sharply coiling around your pulse point; you're relatively certain Atsumu can feel it, too. 

"And this…" he repeats, not a beat passing between the two of you, ". . .is yours."

Again, the tips of your fingers rest against his erratic heartbeat, and the moment is so intimate that you have to fight the urge to swoon. 

"Can I kiss ya'?" Atsumu asks, then he pauses. "Please?" 

You steadily nod, sliding your hand down his chest. Atsumu shivers as your touch ignites a heat inside him, your fingers deft as they travel down his chest. 

Slowly, carefully—giving you time to deny him if you needed, though knowing neither of you ever would—he leans down. Atsumu leans over your body, caging you protectively against him, crowding your space. Your breathing comes shallower and shallower as he comes closer, your noses suddenly nudging together as his warm breath fans across your face, his gaze pointed at your lips. 

"Are ya' sure?" he asks, giving you another chance to say no. 

"Please," you nearly beg, your hands traveling to cup his neck. Atsumu leans into your touch with parted lips, sweetly brushing your noses together. Your lips graze in the whisper of a kiss, and a gasp gets caught in your throat as you attempt to chase him. 

Chuckling, Atsumu leans back slightly, slowly pulling away from you. He gazes at your eyes and the heat that now resides in your skin. He stares dazedly at the wide look in your gaze, watching entranced at how your lips part, words failing to push past them. 

"You missed," you mumble, eyes flicking between his own and his lips. Their pinkness is tantalizing, and you want nothing more than to feel their plushness drag along the swell of your breasts, pressing against the column of your throat as he pushes inside you. 

"Did I?" he teases. The needy whine that falls past your throat causes him to grin lopsidedly at you, a lovesick expression overwhelming his features as you pull at his neck. 

"'Tsumu, please," you plead, the desperation becoming more apparent. You feel an intense need to have his lips cover yours, to hear the sounds that would slip past his lips, to feel how soft they would feel against your own. 

And Atsumu always did have a hard time denying you. 

This time when he leans forward, sweetly nudging his nose against yours, the smile between you is shared. Lips brush against lips tentatively—a mere graze of a touch—before he repeats the motion. It's addicting, the feel of your lips so close to his own, where one errant move would cause them to be flush together. 

Finally, after years of hidden emotions, Atsumu kisses you. It's something you've fantasized and dreamed about for years—wondering how his lips would feel against yours, if you would ever kiss, how your heart would pound when your lips eventually meet. 

It feels like you're falling—being in his embrace like this. Atsumu cups your cheeks reverently, holding you gently against his body, still bracing you against the kitchen counter. It's an innocent touch, one full of the wonders and adoration that come with first kisses, as his lips begin to slowly move against yours. 

Atsumu tips your head back slightly, cradling your jaw between his hands and pressing his tongue forward. He makes a slight sound as he soaks in your taste, resisting the urge to moan as your lips part for him. Atsumu licks into your mouth, pressing his tongue against your own and relishing in the sweet sound you let out for him. 

Atsumu feels the room becoming hotter, and when he pulls away, he feels utterly breathless. 

The next series of kisses increase in intensity and desperation—somehow, still carrying the same wave of devotion. Your touches become fumbled, running down sides, brushing over chests, as you pant into each other's mouth. Atsumu groans as you press your hips forward, seeking friction, brushing against where his cock is half hard against his thigh. 

He pulls away—afraid he went too far—before gazing at you with lidded eyes. "We can stop. I don't wanna do anything yer uncomfortable with," he states, dragging his tongue out to swipe against his bottom lip. 

You lean forward to brush your thumb along his mouth, softly tracing over his lips, grazing the corner of his mouth. "And I feel the same," you tell him, heavy eyes meeting his own. "But I don't want to stop."

Then, a pause. "Do you?" 

And Atsumu has never found an answer easier. He breathes out a heavy response—as if the words pain him. "No."

His touches are more insistent—more desperate—than before. He easily guides you to his bedroom, allowing you to take the lead but hesitant to let his hands leave you. Excitement brims at his core, tugging at the deep coil of pleasure inside him as your kisses become more rushed, more hurried. 

Hands tug at clothes, questions of is this okay? and can I touch ya', please? passed between breathless lips. Atsumu helps guide you to lie back against his bed, cradling you in his arms calloused hand holds your face softly, caressing your cheek as he smooths his thumb over your cheekbone. Thick pants fall past his pink, kiss-swollen lips, lust swirling with his words as he looks down at you with heavy lids. His other arm is wound tightly around your waist, holding your body flush against his.

"Ya' sure ya' don't wanna continue movie night?" Atsumu jokes, allowing the tension to break for a brief second. 

You find yourself laughing fitfully at the way he grins at you—lopsided and endearing, his blonde hair falling over his brow. "I'm sure," you state, then decide to tack onto his teasing statement. "You sure you don't want me to fix this hair? Cut it, maybe?"

Atsumu looks pained at you, an overly-exaggerated shocked look on his face. "Ya' don't like my hair?" he asks, but the joking tone to his word softens the blow. 

Taking a moment to reign the situation back in, you cup his cheeks between your hands. "I love everything about you, 'Tsumu."

And he feels like he could positively melt, hovering over your body. Your top is scrunched up your chest, and Atsumu's long fingers smooth down your stomach, fingers tapping playfully against your skin. "And I love everything about you," he returns, leaning forward to press kisses to your neck. 

You let out a soft sigh, fingers threading through his hair as he kisses you. His lips caress the spot right behind your ear, his breath brushing against your skin in a way that has you convinced that the room is spinning. All you can do is clutch tighter to him, fisting his shirt between your hands. 

"Off," you nearly demand, fitfully pulling at his shirt. Atsumu pulls away from you, instantly missing having your skin under his lips. 

With a smirk, he tugs his shirt off, grabbing it from the back of the neck. 

You watch with fitful eyes as his slightly tanned skin is revealed—mouth watering at the expanse of muscle that lines his abdomen, stretching across his broad shoulders and biceps. 

However, as you look closer, you also find pleasing traces of stretch marks, a scar here and there, and the soft hair underneath his navel coarse to the touch. 

"Have I told you that I love you?" you hum, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. 

Atsumu smoothly leans over you again, covering your body with his own, and before he settles fully, you quickly tug your own shirt off. 

"Ya' might've mentioned it," Atsumu muses, distracted gaze roaming your features. His hands find purchase on your hips, long, coarse fingers dancing across your skin. "I think I need a reminder, though."

His grin is cheeky as he kisses you deeply, freely moaning into your mouth. Your lips part to allow his tongue entrance, dipping between your lips to press against your own. Fingers carding through his hair, you gently pull as a sharp whine spills into his mouth, arching your back up to push your body closer to his. 

"I love you," you remind him, and the way his chest shudders against you causes wetness to pool between your thighs. 

"I love ya' more," he groans against your lips, slanting his mouth over yours in a quick succession of kisses. 

Your hands slide down his chest, running them lightly over his stomach, admiring how strong he is. Your fingertips trace over every scar and stretch mark, reveling in the sweet sounds he lets out against your lips. 

He breaks apart with a soft huff, leaning his forehead to rest against yours as he sighs. "Yer drivin' me crazy, ya' know that?" he chuckles. Atsumu lets out a low gasp when he feels your fingers smooth down his navel, teasingly brushing over the coarse bit of hair that disappears under his pants. Slowly, your fingers dip underneath the hem of his pants and boxers, mouth falling open in pleasure and anticipation as you barely drag them over his lower abdomen. 

With a burst of confidence, you press your hips against your own, quickly giving Atsumu consent to touch you. 

"You drive me just as crazy, I promise," you whisper, breathless, as he leans down to kiss you again. His elbow braces against the bed as he cradles your head, and his other hand presses against your heated core. 

Instantly, you moan at the friction, rolling your hips up to meet his touch. You feel his cock, warm and thick, as it rests against his thigh, almost throbbing at the way your hips press together. 

"Can I touch you?" you ask him, pulling away to airly moan as he runs a finger across your clothed slit. 

"Please," he moans your name, head falling forward. Atsumu stands quickly, and you follow suit, both of you eagerly anxious to rid yourselves of the remaining pieces of fabric that separate you. 

You undress each other carefully, reverently, and with an air of anticipation. It causes your touches to fumble, stuttered confessions of how beautiful the other looks falling past kiss-swollen lips. 

In the darkness of the room, you don't think Atsumu has ever appeared as bright as he is now. 

A soft shlick is heard as Atsumu pulls his belt from the loops, and your fingers quickly make their way to his buttons. With a euphoric, shared laugh, you quickly tug down his zipper, pressing against the button to unlatch it from his pants. When your fingers brush against him, Atsumu shivers, pressing his aching cock against your hand. 

Done with all the teasing, all the build-up, you whisper to him, "I need you, please. Can't take this anymore."

Atsumu watches with a heavy gaze as your thighs press together, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Instantly, you take notice, surging forward to press your mouth to his. 

His hands instantly curl around your cheeks, pressing you against his bare chest, his cock thick and throbbing against his thigh. 

"Let's get these off first," Atsumu breathes when he pulls away, but not before letting a sweet kiss linger on the corner of your mouth. 

Atsumu bends at the waist to tug off his pants, kicking them around his ankles as he steps out. Your breath catches in your throat, and, eager to join him in his state of undress, you quickly take off your own. 

The light that streams from the small window of his bedroom is minimal, only faint glows of the streetlamps and stars cascading across the floor. Yet, it is enough to see the beauty that resides in Atsumu, especially around his eyes as he gazes at you with an infinite amount of love. 

You stand before each other in just your underwear, simply taking in the presence of the other. Soon, however, it isn't enough, and aching hands curl around the other's body in a feeble attempt to pull off the remaining clothes. 

"So beautiful," Atsumu murmurs along your neck, his palm brushing over the soft curve of your breast. You tremble and lean into his touch, arching your body closer to him as his fingers roll against your nipple. 

"Says you," you retort, running your hands down his chest, admiringly. 

Atsumu's curious hands travel down your sides, lighting a burning fire with his touch before two of his fingers finally settle over your covered slit. 

"Fuck," he curses, letting his head hang forward to rest against your shoulder. His eyes are dark, completely swallowed with lust as he swipes his fingers against you, relishing in the sweet way your body leans into his touch. "Yer so wet already. What're ya' tryin' to do ta' me?" 

"You're one to talk," you gasp as his fingers pull your panties to the side, biting your lip as they dip between your folds. Not wanting to be left behind, you gently cup his stiff cock, aching even through his boxers. Rolling your wrist against him, you encourage the gentle way his hips arch into your touch, another curse falling from his lips. 

"Don't do that unless ya' want me to do it for ya,'" Atsumu chides you, pulling your lip from between your teeth. He leans forward to peck your lips, and—without warning—bites down gently on your lip before carefully sucking it into his mouth. He moans as your taste invades his senses, still working two of his fingers against your clit.

"Can we please—" you moan, clenching around nothing as he spreads your wetness across your folds, "—please get in bed?" 

You tug at his hips, quietly whining as you urge him back to bed. 

Atsumu obliges, curling over you once you settle in the middle of his bed, pressing his hips to rest between yours. You can feel the way his hard cock aches against your cunt, warm and begging to be touched. 

"Can I take these off?" he asks, tugging at the hem of your panties. 

With a quick nod, Atsumu gives in to your desires, and he follows the path your panties make down your legs until he's settled between your thighs.

"Beautiful," he muses, bringing a hand to distractedly swipe between your lips. He spreads them apart, admiring the way your wetness clings to the pads of his fingers. "Please let me eat ya' out," he looks back up at your, and you nearly whine at his lewd words. 

"You have me, 'Tsumu," you state, leaning back against his pillows as he grins beneath you. 

Atsumu wastes no time, biting his lip as he leans forward. The first drag of his tongue through your folds is hesitant, but still pleasurable, a soft moan spilling past your lips at the sensation. 

Atsumu encourages you to tangle your fingers in his hair, his own moving down to brush against your entrance. He begins sucking your clit, simultaneously pushing two fingers inside you and crooking them up, curiously. He builds you up like this, swiping his tongue through your folds, bringing his lips to wrap around your clit, sucking it into his mouth with a heady moan, stretching you out by working two fingers into you. 

"Ya' feel good?" Atsumu asks as he pulls away briefly, admiring how your thighs feel around his shoulders. 

"Yes, please keep going," you bed, pulling at his hair as the pleasure continues to build inside you. 

It coils tighter and tighter, especially as Atsumu pulls the hood of your clit back, placing soft kitten licks on your sensitive nub. His tongue tenses as you grind down onto him, a breathless moan falling past his lips at the taste of you. Two of his fingers—long and thick—curve inside you, arching against the spot against your walls that has you creaming for him, hands harshly tugging at his hair. 

Quickly, you pull him up, hurriedly pushing down his boxers. Atsumu assists you, biceps straining as he kicks them to the floor. When he moves to cover your body with his own, a sheepish grin tugs at his lips, and you moan as you feel the head of his cock slipping through your folds. 

"C-condom?" you ask, covering your mouth as his leaking tip presses against your clit. Seeming to like that reaction, Atsumu reaches a hand down to guide it against your nub again, rubbing teasing circles against you with the head of his cock. 

"Right here," he murmurs, reaching over to pull one out of his bedside table. You grin at him, peppering kisses all over his cheeks as he carefully tears open the condom. 

You help him roll it over his cock, clenching around nothing as he lets out a heavy moan. His cock is pretty, curving slightly as it rests thickly in your hand. As you guide the condom over his cock, giving him a few teasing pumps, Atsumu groans out your name in warning. 

"Are ya' sure you wanna do this?" he asks, giving you space to think. 

Wanting to soothe his nerves, you caress a hand through his hair, coming to rest at his undercut. Your nails scrape against the skin there—teasing—and Atsumu moans under your touch, his cock throbbing against his thigh. 

"Please," you murmur, whispering out his name in a state of adoration. 

Atsumu slowly sinks his cock into you, and choked gasps escape you both as you stretch to accommodate his size. Atsumu moans your name, body bowing over yours and crowding against your chest. You gratefully grasp onto him, moaning his name as he continues pressing forward, inching his cock into you slowly. 

Wet lips wrap around your nipple as he spreads wet kisses along your chest, gently moving to brush against your collarbones. Unable to take in the sight of you—thinking it would make him cum immediately—Atsumu buries his head against the nape of your neck, hot breath fanning across your chest as he rocks forward. 

Atsumu draws his hips back, slowly guiding his cock out, and the drag is so sweet that it has you keening. Your hips arch up—as if desperately chasing the feeling of being whole again—before Atsumu presses into you again. 

"Oh fuck," he groans, head falling to press hot kisses against your jaw. Your fingers dig into the underside of his hair, soft locks brushing against your face as Atsumu begins rolling his hips against you. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, fingers tangling in his hair. Atsumu brings a hand between your bodies, rubbing tight circles against your clit as he pushes his throbbing cock inside you.

"'M perfect," he gasps, bringing his head up to kiss you. "Never been happier."

And the truth that coats his words has you clenching around him. His fingers swipe through your folds, barely brushing against where you're connected as he ruts his cock into you again. Atsumu continues fucking you like this—slow, steady thrusts, stretching you as he pushes inside you so deeply. The tip of his cock aches as he pulls back, continuing the soft roll of his hips. 

Atsumu's fingers continue pressing against you.

"I'm sorry, m'not going to last much longer," Atsumu mutters against your lips, chests brushing against each other. He presses inside of you as he bites his lip, gaze heavy with love as he traces tight circles against your clit.

Atsumu's arm curls under your thigh as he fucks into you, entranced by the softness as he circles his hips. Pulling him flush against you, you let out a loud gasp at the way he suddenly stretches you out, his pelvis pressing against your clit. The coarse hair that leads to his cock only adds to the sensation, and you feel the tight coil of pleasure threaten to snap inside you as Atsumu grinds against you.

"'Tsumu!" you cry out—the only warning to your orgasm. It spreads across your body in warm waves, pleasure licking at your fingertips, spreading across your clit as you clench around Atsumu. His gaze flickers from where you're connected to the sight of you cumming around his cock, mouth falling open in pleasure at the picture of you tensing around him. 

The pleasure spreads across your senses, and Atsumu can't help but praise you as he feels his own orgasm abruptly crashing over him. Atsumu bows his body over yours, arms tight as they cage you against his bed, mindlessly rutting his cock through your folds to prolong his orgasm. He cums into the condom with a long moan of your name, and you don't think you've ever heard a more beautiful sound. 

You collapse against the bed as Atsumu curls his body around you, carefully settling on top of you. Sweat slicks at both your chests, and you let out a tired laugh as Atsumu's lips continue licking and sucking at your breasts, traveling up your throat to nip at the sensitive skin there. 

"Ya' still love me?" he teases, wincing as he carefully pulls out of you. Instantly, Atsumu misses the feeling of your walls tight around him, warm and wet as he fucks you. 

"Always," you smile at him, only barely letting him leave the bed. Atsumu disposes of the condom quickly, aching to be back in your arms. 

He lies beside you, easily pulling you into a hot embrace. Atsumu chuckles as you sink into his touch, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head as your eyes flutter shut. 

"So, you really mean it?" you ask, fingers tracing shapes across his chest. They arch over his collarbones, and you lean forward to press a small kiss there. 

"Of course I mean it," Atsumu runs a hand along your back. "I always have."

You're happy as you sink into his touch, sighing softly as his fingers rub against your body. You both fall into a state of blissful peace, the waves of blissful relaxation echoing shadows upon your hearts. 

"Ya' wanna know something?" Atsumu muses, gazing up at the dark ceiling. You hum in return, attempting to not let sleep overcome you. "Ya' know—everything you stress about? Everything yer afraid of? The uncertainties and all that stuff? It's okay to be scared like that. It's okay to worry."

Your brows furrow at his words as you bring your head up. You rest your chin against his shoulder, silently encouraging him to continue. 

"Because—those things we worry about? Very rarely ever come true," Atsumu states simply, tapping a finger to your forehead. "Yer mind will make it seem like everything is worse—that the worst case scenario could happen. But that's not true, and worst-case scenarios hardly ever happen," he states, a frown pulling at his features. 

You feel immensely comforted by his words, and you suddenly wonder where he found the sage words of advice. "How'd you know?" you ask, curious as to how he knew of your struggles. 

And, similar to earlier, he simply shrugs. "With you? I always know."

After the last words have been spoken, you rest in quiet comfort, arms looped lazily around each other. You find home in each other's arms, a sense of love and adoration wrapping you both in a blissful bubble. Your heart feels healed as you rest in Atsumu's embrace, the waves no longer crashing in your chest, the intense storm soothed by weeks of figuring out that everything is okay. That everything happens for a reason, that it's okay not to be okay, and that the worst possible scenarios very rarely ever occur. You come to the realization that it's okay to not have all the answers in life, that it's okay to not know which direction to go. It's okay to not get the job you want, or to be intimidated by the limitless possibilities you could face in life. 

The dark water no longer frightens you, especially as you find home in Atsumu's arms. 

Your phone rings again, and you let out a loud groan as Atsumu shifts. He sits up on the side of the bed, playfully poking your side. 

"You get that—it might be important. I'll go get ya' some water," Atsumu stands up, stretching his arms above his head, before leaning down to search your pockets. After fishing out your phone, he hands it to you; you grin as his fingers purposefully brush your own. "Be right back."

And then you're alone. Swiping across the accept button, you bring your phone to your ear. 

"Hello?" you ask, not noticing the caller ID. 

The person on the receiver says your name, questioning. You affirm their question. " Excellent! We tried getting ahold of you earlier—you must've been busy…"

Your blood runs cold as they continue speaking, their cheerful voice tittering in your ear as the uncertainties and waves start their relentless attack on you once again. 

As Atsumu fills up to glasses of water, he can't help but let his gaze sweep over his arms, his chest. There are marks on him—just as he's sure there are similar marks on you—and he admires them. If he presses on the spot just below his collarbone, he can remember how your lips felt against his skin. 

As he finishes filling up the cups, he carefully balances them before running a hand through his hair. At the feeling of the messy blonde strands, he grins, remembering how perfectly your fingers curled there—how at home it felt to have you in his arms. 

The smile doesn't disappear from his face as he makes his way back to his bedroom, looking forward to kissing you again. The memories mull over his mind, and he flips them back and forth as a fond smile makes its way onto his face. 

I love ya' so much, he thinks.

"So I got two options for ya'! Cup one or cup—" he halts, stopping suddenly in the doorframe. You're curled in on yourself, clutching a sheet to your chest as you pinch at the skin just above your collarbone. 

Just above your heart,

"What's wrong?" Atsumu asks, concern filling his features. The air in the room is different, and Atsumu feels a bout of panic filling his chest, biting at his gut until you look at him. 

He nearly drops the cups of water, watching how tears fill your eyes, and he suddenly can't shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong. 

"I got the job," you whispered, hand still curling around your phone. Atsumu glances at the dark screen, still confused about why you look so upset. Adjusting his grip on the cups, he sets them down on his dresser before looking at you once again. 

"Well that's good! It's what ya' wanted, isn't it?" he asks, furrowing his brows. Atsumu makes his way across the room, kneeling before you. He places his hands on your knees, ducking his head in an effort to make you look at him. A finger is tucked under your chin, lifting your head to meet Atsumu's gaze; he attempts a poor excuse of a grin, the ache growing in his chest doing little to comfort him. 

And he feels dread creep up his spine at the look you give him, a strange sense of unease settling deep in the pit of his stomach. 

"It was," you begin, voice thick with unshed tears. Atsumu feels out of control, fingers twitching helplessly as he searches your eyes, begging for an explanation. "But this isn't the exact one I wanted."

He watches as you take a shuddering breath, a sinking feeling settling in his heart. You clasp your hands together, leaning forward until your foreheads are pressed together. Atsumu, still reeling at the new ways he's able to touch you, brings his hand up to cup your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. 

"I got a job at their sister company…" you begin, a hand coming to muffle the choked sob that spills past your lips. Still finding confusion in your words, Atsumu furrows his brows, tears pricking his eyes at the sight of you crying. 

"Their sister company?" Atsumu inquires, nudging you to continue. 

And you look at him. You look at your best friend through the tears that pool in your eyes, through the deep, dark waves threatening to drown you. You look at the boy you call 'home,' fighting against the pit of uncertainty and frustration that rises inside you, instead trying to focus on his face. You attempt to focus on his worried gaze, his beautiful eyes now filling with tears at your tears, your lack of response. 

"Their sister company…" you agree with him, nodding your head as you gather the courage to continue. "…overseas."

And you both fall silent, the only sound being the roaring of waves present inside you.

"You really mean it?" you asked, a youthful hopefulness evident in your voice. Feeling confident that the coast was clear, you turned back to face him, a questioning look in your gaze. On the apples of Atsumu's cheeks were sparkling flecks of sugar, reminding you of the sweet lemon treat you shared during lunch break. 

Atsumu, ever the pleaser, nodded enthusiastically, eyes sparkling with an honest gleam. 

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, his young voice higher-pitched than it is now. His ruddy fingers, slightly chubby, reached out to yours, and you clasped hands with him eagerly, pinkies entwining. "We're always gonna be together!" 

And, in your childlike haze, protected from the world's harsh realities, you believed him. 

"I promise," Atsumu smiled at you, all toothy, cheeks kissed pink with remnants of the sun still in his hair. 

Loving the boy who makes you feel like home is easy. It is easy to love Miya Atsumu—the boy who feels like home to everyone. People are drawn to him, to his easy smiles, his even easier laughter, always brightening up the room when he enters. His teasing words and mischievous antics cause people to want to grow closer to him, to know what makes him smile, what brings him the most happiness. It does not take long for people to find out that the main source of his happiness is a person who's been with him since childhood, making promises with him, getting him out of trouble with his brother, comforting him when times got rough. 

The one person who felt like home to him.

And as Atsumu kneels before you, cradling you gently in his arms, cooing supportive words in your ear, he is reminded of the fact that you are his home. 

His home does not encompass a building. It is not in his own bed, in his kitchen where his twin brother often resides. It is not when he holds a ball in his hand—though that is a close second—nor when he's putting on his jersey, tugging it so that it rests appropriately across his chest. 

His home is wherever he's with you, as his home resides in you. 

And as you freely step into your future, Atsumu knows that the promise he made in childhood will withstand. He knows that he will always be with you, and you with him. He knows that he will always stand by you, supporting you and loving you—no matter what. 

He knows that he will keep the promise he made in childhood, even if your lives are no longer surrounded by the shiny pink haze of adolescence. 

"I promise," he whispers to himself, and to you. 

And as you pull back to look at him, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, Atsumu knows he will keep his promise. 

Pulling back, he entwines your pinkies together—a silent promise passing between you both. 

Because you've found home in each other, and no dark waves will ever tear you apart. Because over the weeks you have both learned that the waves, no matter how dark or rough, won’t tear you apart. They will not crash against the serenity or peace you have created, and they will not harm the healing you have brought upon your heart.

Instead, the waves will push you together.

Thank you all so much for reading my fic! I want to give a huge thank you to my sweet Ina and Dilly for supporting me and putting up with me for weeks on end! I couldn't have written this fic without your guys love and support, and I'm so grateful for you both! Again, this story is a love letter to myself, because life can be hard, and not knowing what you want to do with your life can be a deeply suffocating and scary notion. I hope this helped some of you in the same ways it helped me to write it. Please remember: everything will be okay, everything happens for a reason, and that the worst case scenarios very rarely end up occurring. I sincerely appreciate you for reading my fic, and sincerely hope you enjoyed it <3

tags: @atsumeii @satorhime @sunkeiji @crescentkaze @spideytetsu @hanuh @miyasann @demxnscous @134340am @tetsustulip @tetsusjaan @vlumii @6tsonya @gassytritis @belleruse @swtbunny @unstaaableaf @julfdm @bloombb @khwohsahnt @ffsg0jo @my-reality-is-in-my-head @mitskisaveme @justsomeonewhoyoudontknow @tenaciouswritersheep @sorrythatspussynal @kazuhatiny @diligentstudent @sandysadie @shoyouu @goldenvenuz @cherrirach @t0ruuuu @bbyxxm @autumn242 @celioderso

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[sunghyunjaes]

┌─ “ ! „ JITTER

tw. manipulation, anal, misuse of power, brat taming, degradation, little choking & spit, possessive tsumu, creampie, corruption, virginity kink, praise wordcount. 3.6k

a/n. ♡ commissioned by the fucking amazinggg @bisexualturtledove ♡ thank you so so much for commissioning me again mY lOVEEE it loved getting to write tsumu again!! you’ve been just tHE bEST and agGGHHH i really hope you enjoy it!! mwuah

miya atsumu x fem!reader

Miya Atsumu might just be a God among men. That’s what you think the first time you catch his eyes when waiting in line after a game, with shaking hands. He’s shining even against the bright spots of the gym hall, standing a head or even two taller than most of the passersby. Even among the other giants that patiently sign volleyballs and people’s leaflets, you only have eyes from the radiant setter that sends sparks down your whole body when he looks up. Looks up and seem to glance straight at you, with those eyes that look like molten amber.

The line both -can’t go fast enough, and be any longer- all at once, because you feel like you’re suffocating with each step towards him. When it gets to your turn, you’re already smiling before he even speaks, and Atsumu’s infectious charisma basically hits you in the face full force afterward. He gives you a little doubletake as he takes your paper and talks, voice all low and seductive— not that you’d imagine Miya Atsumu flirting with you of all people, and swears up and down to remember your name.

“Yer a Miya fan?” Atsumu is quick to point at your jersey number with the back of his marker, and laughs when you nervously fidget with your hair in an attempt to save yourself.

“Well— if I had to pick a favorite of the current lineup, yeah,” you settle on admitting, and bite your lip.

“Just the current lineup?”

“I- I mean- not, not like- I just meant that I enjoy every play you make. I d- didn’t mean anything by it.” It only makes him giddier, has him leaning in some.

The toothy smile on his handsome face is so enchanting you barely notice you’re leaning in to hear every word. “Is it bad, that just makes me want to be yer favorite of all the lineups now?” You have no way of answering that, and he knows it, because he continues. “I’ll play my very best next time, sweetheart. Promise.” He uncaps the marker and winks, looking at you like you’re the only person in the room— and it fucks with your brain. Short circuiting it even more. “Come back to tell me if it changes next match, yeah?”

Before you can say anything, he puts the paper aside to take a gentle hold on your face, long fingers softly brushing a few stray hairs away. He signs your cheek instead, his focused face much too close for your brain to have any way of processing it. And grins when pulling back, bright like the sun, then he squeezes your hand. It feels like an eternity passes before the security is ushering you away. You only realize after two more —increasingly risky places to sign—

Miya Atsumu is absolutely flirting with you, of all people. 

It’s still crazy how things fall into place after that. Though you no longer have the jitters when seeing him, it’s just as much a shock when he’s kissing down your throat. It’s dark as you two stumble into his apartment with tangled limbs, tossing off his practice jacket like he can’t have you fast enough. Still a bit clumsy so early in the relationship, you can’t help but giggle as he clings to you while he kicks off a shoe and gets back to your body to kiss you silly— stealing your breath in the process. His tongue is sweet against yours, and makes your entire body feel heated.

It doesn’t take long for him to pull back and eagerly help you take off your top, staring for a few seconds before he’s back to you. On you, more like. “Yer so fuckin’ cute, ya know that?” he pants against your collarbones, kicking away your shirt somewhere towards the door as he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you in place against him. You’re more than glad to. His blond hair lays messed up on his forehead, still damp from a shower as he traces those long fingers along your sides, shoving up your bra. As you reach to take it off he circles your nipples with practiced precision, letting you shiver from the touch before kissing all over them too.

“Tsumu- I—agh,” your whiny beg is interrupted when he leaves a love bite right under it, looking up through those thick lashes.

“My cute, amazin’ girlfriend,” he coos with a smile, before straightening and grabbing two hands of ass to walk you backwards towards the bed, grin turning a bit sharper, eager. “So fuckin’ pretty. Ya know what y’need, baby? Care ta tell me? I love hearin’ you.” The way he looks at you sends even more heat to your pussy, feeling so scrutinized under his eyes, and under the way his hands grab at your ass like it’s his favorite thing. “Say my name again.” He lets you wrap your hand around his neck to pull you close, watches you enrapt as you suck your lip, leaning in.

“Want you— so bad, want’you to fuck me, Tsumu.” He looks as if he doesn’t want to miss a single second, and smiles wide while hovering your lips. You run your fingers through his undercut until you reach hair you can grab and tug a little, and groans against your mouth at the feeling. “Atsumu, please. Please. Want you, hurry up.” It’s not the begging that makes him click his tongue, but your petulant attitude as he suddenly lifts you by your thighs and tosses you into the bed, placing both hands beside your head to hang his muscular, tall body over you.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” He dips to kiss down your chest again, over your tits, your belly, then slowly drags your skirt and underwear down. With motions so excessively slow, that it makes you want to roll your eyes, and you allow yourself to beg for him under your breath. Atsumu notices when you try to lock your legs behind his thighs to pull him closer though, and stops midway undressing to grab your ankle and place a kiss there too. He trails his fingers up your leg to pinch at the inside of your thigh, lifting a brow. “Stop bitchin’ and take it how I give it to ya, brat.” It’s a direct order that sends unfair amounts of heat to your pussy, you can’t help it.

Your body is strung so tight you’re halfway to crying if he doesn’t hurry it the hell up. All the teasing in the car ride here would be enough to drive any sane person a bit frazzled. Still, if it was anyone else, you’d probably feel embarrassed about being this needy. But your skin tingles when he releases your thigh to pull your panties up over your feet and tosses it too, spreading you open to allow himself room between your legs. He’s still in a shirt and shorts, while you’re now naked before him— something that you pout about, grabbing at the fabric to pull it. “Off,” you ask, and your greek statue of a boyfriend breathes a hum.

“Ya’ll get nowhere without a please.”

“Off, please,” you repeat with a frown for him, nudging it up for him to take off— and he obliges, but not before giving you a look. One you can’t quite read, all you know is that it’s dark and heavy and he licks his lips when coming back to you. “Tsum—” He kisses you hard as you fall back in the bed, moaning at the greedy, possessive kisses, at the way he sucks your tongue too. Large hands that grab at every part he can get to, and having your whole body needy for more. Your pussy clenches with need for him, fighting the urge to lock your legs around him again.

“When ya act like a spoiled brat, it makes me wanna punish ya like one,” he breathes the words against your mouth, reaching under you to grab your hair and pull your head back to expose your throat, where he starts kissing even more. All over the sensitive skin he’s been bruising up all week— it makes you moan despite yourself, and suck in a sharp breath. “Keep goin’ and see what happens.” But you shake your head when he sucks hard at a particularly sore spot, and wrap your arms under his. “No? Ya don’t wanna play?”

You fall silent to think of an answer, and Tsumu grins as he trails his fingers down your torso to get to your pussy. You swallow, and moan. “I— I just- want you. Want you inside me, please. Please? I won’t act up, I swear.” The long hum that he lets out feels far from a real agreement, but he’s too busy staring at the way his fingers glisten when he swipes them through your wetness, listening to the lewd noises each time his fingers barely push in. It’s excruciating, and you grab at his strong arm while you throw your hand back. “Atsumu~ god, f-fuck.”

“Didn’t even hafta do anythin’, ha? Look at this needy cunt, already dripping. Fangirl cunt trying to get ruined by her favorite?” There’s a slight flush high on his cheeks as he gives you a slow up and down again, grabbing your boobs to give them a little tap and pinching your nipples hard, so good it makes your legs twitch. You want him. You want him now, and it’s near unbearable to keep your mouth shut. “Ya like me this much?” he coos, and this time you nod obediently, though a whimper follows it when he pushes two thick fingers inside your cunt with a smile. “How’s that? Feel good? Hurt?”

“You’re big- r-really big—all of you is,” you choke, no show needed as you let out a deep breath when he pulls back and curls them into you again, “but good. Feels so good. Holy- fu-uck Tsumu, hurry it up please.” He spreads his fingers to stretch you out nice and easy, pulling more slick out of your cunt onto his fingers, his hand and wrist. “Tsumu~” you’re already moaning again by the time he places his free hand on your throat and applies just enough pressure to keep you lightheaded.

“Gotta stretch this cunt out, or ya’ll hurt,” he nods his head dramatically up and down to your own shaking head, and places his thumb onto your clit with small circles. “Uhuh, ‘n I don’t want’ya complaining ‘bout it after.”

“It won’t hurt—” you try though, and it won’t. You’re drenching the sheets under you with your wetness, enough to make his entire hand glisten as he pulls back. But your boyfriend suddenly places his hand next to your face to lean back over you, and looks deep into your eyes. His deep ochre eyes are narrowed when he bites his lip, and pushes his fingers with your own slick between your lips.

“Yer not—” he seems to think for a moment, before clicking his tongue as you suck obediently around his fingers. “I’m not yer first?” The question flicks up at the end, like he’s— like he’s disappointed. “No- I just figured-,” he sighs out, “ya’d save yerself for me.” You let his fingers out of your mouth with a wet pop. Despite the heat burning on your chest and face, and the sweat on your neck, you feel like you’ve been doused with cold water with how he’s looking at you now. It’s not anger or disappointment, but definitely something. “I wanted ta stretch this pretty pussy out for the first time, y’know. Spent the entire time thinkin’ about it, how good ya’d look.”

It’s weird. You should feel offended by the comments, but this is Tsumu. The Miya Atsumu, rock hard straining against his boxers, and perfectly sculpted body still hanging over you like he’s dying to fuck you up and down on his cock. He’s close enough for you to feel his cock twitch against you, and still taste him on your tongue. He leans in with a little pout, sliding his lips along your pulse point when his free hand starts toying with your clit again. “Ahh, fuckin’ bummer, hm? I was dyin’ to make you cum on my cock,” he whispers, low and promising, ��would’a made ya feel so good.”

“Dontcha think?” he continues as his lips come back to yours, open mouthed kisses bringing your itching brain back to the moment. And as you let him rub your clit so good your toes curl, you keep thinking so loud. It is a bummer. He’s back to you though, back to sucking on your tits and then moving to kneel between your legs to lock his mouth around your cunt instead. His swift tongue licking up the length of it, alternating patiently between soft, long licks and a harder sucking that has you gripping his head. “Hmm- that’s- tha’s it, baby- feel good?” You hum back, nod and moan all at once as he slides two fingers smoothly back into your clenching pussy.

Bummer. You grab your own tits with your free hand, toying with the hardened buds until you can feel your orgasm start to build tight in your belly. It wraps around you with every noisy smack from between your legs, every panted coo. “My pretty girl— gonna give’t to me? Give me this, c’mon.” The sound of his voice between your ears is loud and pressing, making your closed eyes flash with the idea of him. Him pushing you against a wall, of you two on the bed with hands linked. Him, taking your virginity. Your legs clench around his face and you moan, Tsumu letting out a pleased chuckle at your reactions.

The Miya Atsumu fucking you for the first time. Even if you didn’t mean to, your body betrays how close you are with every touch, every curl into the soft spot of your walls. He’s relentless as he fucks his tongue into you, hiking your thighs higher onto his wide shoulders to make you cling to him. “G’na give it to ya better than anyone.” Your legs clamp against his back with a long whine of his name, every muscle pulling tight. And then you suddenly bite your lip as black comes over your vision and you cum hard on his tongue, on his fingers.

As he finger fucks you through your orgasm until your spasming cunt is sucking back on his tongue for come. “Ah-gh-Ts-tsumu, ohh-fuck, fuck, fuck.” But all you can really think is that— you want to give him more. Want to give something you can’t. He gets from between your legs to scoot you back on the bed and dips it with his weight, grabs your chin to place a few greedy kisses full on your mouth. He pushes his boxers down toned thighs to reveal his hard, leaking cock to you with a grin. You knew he was big, but the heavy balls and thumping vein along the underside make you want to have him so much more. An unbearable amount. He grabs himself at the base with a deep sigh.

“Ahh, fuck.” As he strokes his cock a few times, keeping you transfixed on the glossy bead of precum that sits on the flushed head— “Let me fuck you to another. Hah, doll?” You are still panting and your pussy so needy, but there’s so much on your mind. You nod though, wrap your arms around him to shudder as his cock is rubbed between your legs with slow, teasing motions. He pushes the head in to make you bite your lip, and Atsumu notices. “What’s wrong, needy girl? Don’t want me ta stretch this needy cunt to yer max?”

“I want,” you start, only to stop halfway and give him a teary eyed look, “wanna— give you- m-my first.” You shiver as you say it, sucking the sweetness from your tongue as you wrap one leg around his glutes to keep him closer to you. Not that he budges much. Your boyfriend stares at you with those lidded eyes for a second or two, before a self-satisfied smile tugs his mouth up.

“Yeah? Ya wanna be my little slut to ruin for anyone else?”

You’re nodding before you know it, slick pussy clenching around the head he pulls back out of you. “Please, please— want to.”

Tsumu sucks his teeth as he looks down, and trails his fingers down your pussy again. He lowers his voice enough to barely let you hear it. “Knew ya’d wanna. My little fangirl girlfriend.” It’s said with so much sickening affection that you mewl at the soft kiss he gives you, then grins even wider against your lips. “Yer so sweet, baby. Such a smart girl.” The wetness of your cunt drips down your skin and ass, where he rubs his fingers in slow circles. It feels weird- making heat rise to your entire face. “What about here? D’ya ever—”

“Never-” you quickly breathe back, feeling your nipples pebble and spine straighten at the pressure to your puckered hole. “You- can be my first. If you want,” you mumble, and Atsumu grins wider.

“G’na let me deflower yer spare hole?” He pushes until his finger enters and your breathing hitches, urging you to relax with slow motions. It feels good, really good— eyes starting to water from the stretch. “We can pretend it’s yer first time. So, so wet for me; look at ya.” When one finger slides in and out smoothly, you put your tongue between your teeth to watch as his cock bobs between his thighs. Taking his fat, throbbing cock now seems a lot more intense- considering. A second finger pushes at your hole, slowly opening you up, and more wetness drips down to it.

“Ah, agh, T-ah-tsumu.”

He gives a toothy grin when glancing at your face, and nods. “Uhuh, feel good, don’it. You look like yer enjoyin’ that.” It does. The soreness of stretching so wide is overridden by how good it feels to have his fingers sliding in and out against the resistance, and you slowly hum. Before you can really get used to the feeling he pulls back and grips his cock though, giving a few more pumps to push out more pre. “Spread yer legs,” he says, and hauls you to move your legs over his thighs, “there. My pretty slut- how lucky are you? Getting yer favorite ta fuck yer clenching, little hole.”

The hot, unbearable feeling travels down your chest and to your belly as he presses his cock to your ass, and pushes against the resistance. You’re slick enough for it to stetch instantly, but not without throwing your head back at the intrusion. “O-oh, hol-y fuck. Hm-ugh,” you only notice you’re crying and shaking when Tsumu giggles at it, slowly pushing in one inch at a time.

“Aw, baby. Yer doin’ so well- fuck-” His hand comes back to your throat to squeeze it, making your voice even smaller and more pitched as he bottoms out and his thighs clap against your ass with a loud groan. “Fucking tight, shit.” His other hand reaches to rub your clit until you take a deep breath and relax, finally allowing him to pull back and slide back in. And at the first thrust, you’re eyes are crossing. It’s impossible not to, with how far inside he feels— like you can feel it in your throat. Atsumu sets a pace that has the bed rattling loudly, headboard bumping the wall as he keeps you in place.

And bounces you on his cock hard and so, so good— you clench your eyes closed and let out a long moan under his hand. “Tsumu, I’m gonna cum again- I’m,”

“Heh,” he chuckles through his teeth and hums, taking a deep breath from the effort. “Is it that good, yeah? I’m fucking ya stupid already, stick out yer tongue.” You do, and he spits onto your tongue before giving you a messy, open mouthed kiss. His balls slap against your ass each time he bottoms out in you, and hits a spot so good it has your entire pussy spasming around nothing. “Go ‘head,” he mumbles then, “cum for me. Yer so fuckin’ cute, fuck.” You do, your back curling off the bed with a long cry— and your legs and arms clamped around his strong body. “Oh, fu—uck, baby doll.”

“Such a good, tight hole, gh-oh, that’sit— s’good.” He doesn’t slow, and it only makes your orgasm more intense, slick spilling down your cunt and thighs and all over the bed until you can barely tell which way is up. “Oh, gonna fill this pretty body with cum, ruin ya. Love fuckin’ my little fangirl slut.” And Atsumu grips your hips hard, pulling you back down on his cock until he gets sloppy. “Gonna- cum.” You can just open your eyes to watch the way he bites his lip and groans, his cheeks flushed pink and pretty eyes narrowed. You’re so shaky, but he hammers his cock into that spot again and again and again until his body clenches.

“Th— ohh, fuck, fuck, that’s— Ughh. Yer mine, mine, my whore. My virgin cunt ta fuck full of me.” Until he spills hot ropes of cum into your unused hole, filling you with heat. He pumps you full of cum until he can’t give anymore, before slowly pulling out with a groan of your name. He slumps down beside you with a huff, and lets his arm drop over your body. You can barely keep your eyes open as he pulls you on top of him and brushes your hair behind your ears, then cups your face and kisses you long and hard. “Y’ were so good for me, baby. Lets do that again.”

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[sunghyunjaes]

Day 7: Atsumu

Warnings: Cunnilingus, pussy whipped Tsum, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, bed humping

If there was one thing about Atsumu Miya, it’s that he is the biggest simp; your simp, specifically. At your beck and call anytime, anywhere, anyway, he’ll be there, doing whatever you need him to do. And he could never say no to you; even when his closest friends and twin brother decided to do No Nut November. Even when he wanted to win oh so desperately. But, your needs always came far before his own.

“Ya taste so good, angel,” Atsumu’s deep groan in your dripping pussy had you pulling his hair harder, pulling his face closer to your heat.

The man between your legs had the brightest of ideas; since you were needy, he’d take care of you, obviously. But if he didn’t cum, he’d still win the challenge. Giving you what you need and not losing in the process, hell, that was a win-win.

So, that’s where you both had found yourselves. You, laid out on your back on the cushiony bed, and him on his stomach with his face buried between your thighs; his favorite place to be.

Every thought out flick of his tongue to your clit sent stars flying behind your closed eyes, every squeeze of his fingers from his arms wrapped around your legs to keep you in place made the room fill with your breathy gasps. Your whines spurred him on, eating your cunt like a man starved. “Can’t get enough of ya. Wet, ‘n it’s all fer me, huh?” he pulled away and looked up at you, a goddess in front of an unworthy man such as himself, bringing an arm around to pull your slick folds apart with one of his thumbs. Drool pooled in his mouth, eyes trailing down to fixate on your leaking hole, his spit mixing with your own juices caused his cock to twitch in his boxers; but he was so entranced by the sight before his eyes, he ignored his own growing pleasure.

“‘Tsum,” you whimpered, trying to bring his mouth back to your greedy hole. You felt it, the fiery, hot band in your gut so so so close to snapping. “Baby, please,” tears continue to fall down your pretty face, “wanna cum so bad.”

“I’ll get ya there, dontcha worry, angel,” he couldn’t leave his darling, perfect baby hanging like this, so he dug right back in. He unwrapped his arm from around your thigh, using his fingers that were pulling you apart for his eyes to bring them to your entrance, sliding two fingers in with ease. The feeling of his tongue on your clit and the added stretch to your pussy brought you seconds closer to your release.

He didn’t realize his hips were grinding his length into the bed at the same pace of his fingers pulling out and pushing into your warm walls. As your peak was drawing closer and closer, you started clenching down on his fingers, giving him a heads up that you were close.

“Baby, baby,” you chanted, moving your hands from his hair to the back of his neck, the feeling of your nails digging into his skin made him finger you faster and faster, his hips following the pick up in pace.

“Come on, want it all,” he groaned once again into your cunt. The permission to let go had your eyes clenching shut; thighs shaking around his head, your screams and cries graced his ears; god he could drown in you if you’d let him. One final push and curl of his fingers deep inside of you had you squirting all over him, covering his face and the bedsheets below you.

A moan sounded from his own lips as he pulled away and realized what you had done, what he had caused you to do, his hips stuttering mid bed hump. “Oh shit, oh fuck, angel I-” he cut himself off, biting your inner thigh to silence his lust filled whimpers. A warm, wet, sticky feeling in his boxers had his eyes opening wide, panting against your skin and collecting himself.

He had cum. In his boxers. He lost. From eating you out.

After a few seconds of catching your breath and carding your fingers gently through his damp hair, you spoke up with a shit-eating grin on your face, “did you just-”

“Don’t say nothin’,” he grumbled, letting go of your legs and crawling up to you, “was an accident.” He flopped over onto his back beside you, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, “yer just so beautiful, just lookin’ at ya can make me cum. Don’t know why I thought I could win this stupid challenge,” he pouted, looking over at you with a red face.

“Well,” you smirked, rolling over to straddle his waist, his tip catching against your hole caused him to hiss through his teeth, “since you lost… you can fuck me properly now.”

A fire lit behind Atsumu’s eyes, his cock twitching to life once again below you, “fuck, angel, can never say no to ya.”

[sunghyunjaes]

♡ Master List Link

☽ Bokuto / Fem Reader

⇢ Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+;

⇢ Warnings; oral sex (blow jobs/pussy eating), car sex, riding, small amount of anal play, mating press, kissing, praising

Koutarou who is the sweetest man alive. Who you’re unconditionally in love with, but…is an airhead. I.e., he loses his phone all the time and often forgets plans he’s already made. Who somehow drops his wallet down a hole at the top of a parking garage that’s 30 feet deep while planking but miraculously finds it lying on a car below?? Who you’ll always help find his shit either way.

Koutarou who enjoys wearing a variety of colors and whose wardrobe resembles a rainbow. Whose favorite color is baby blue. Who once got his face painted with a rainbow on it at the fair and looked so cute you couldn’t help but blush.

Koutarou who practically vibrates with excitement when he spots you watching his games from the stands. Who smiles so broadly you fear his cheeks may split. Who waves at you in the middle of a play and runs into the net by accident.

Koutarou who turns a sweet shade of pink when you wear his jersey to the game. Who picks you up in a sweaty bear hug and squishes the air out of your lungs after the match is over. Who chatters excitedly in your ear as he carries you a few feet and who only sets you down when Hinata rescues you by reminding him they have to go change.

Koutarou who gets into certain self-deprecating moods sometimes but lets you help him feel better. You let him talk it out and spending as much time with him as he needs. You whisper words of support and encouragement as you poke the dimples on his cheeks, which gets him to giggle and smile almost every time.

Koutarou who likes listening to hip hop, and surprisingly, hair metal. Who loves singing in the car and has an astonishingly beautiful singing voice. You love watching him as he drives. He gets so into the music, wiggling in his seat and singing to you. Who loves Paramore because you showed them to him.

Koutarou who takes up half your bed when he sleeps. Who is so fucking tall and thick. You love it, using him as your own personal blanket. Who does get super sweaty in the middle of the night, which forces you to roll away so you don’t melt to death.

Koutarou who absolutely loves holding your hand. Who laces his warm fingers through yours and tugs you in every direction no matter where you are. Who leans in so close to speak that you can see his snowy eyelashes. Who never fails to make you flush white hot when he looks at you with stars in his eyes.

Koutarou who is always the life of the party. Everyone loves the fucking ace, he just radiates positive and happy energy. Who has people drawn to him as if they’re moths to a flame. Who has a revolving door of people that want to speak with him. You don’t mind, he comes home with you a night either way.

Koutarou who introduces you to Kuroo. Who he has remained friends with after high school. Kuroo is a sly bastard who you’ve grown quite fond of and have become close friends with. You instantly clicked over your combined efforts to tease Bo.

Koutarou who loves taking hot showers with you. Who likes to hug you under the warm spray and allow it to relax both of you. Who talks about his day and asks you about yours. If you end up on your knees sometimes that’s neither here nor there.

Koutarou who is stupid hot when his hair is down. When the soft strands frame his cheeks you can’t help but stare at him until he asks if there’s something on his face. You tell him how amazing he looks, which makes him blush a rosy pink and drag you into his lap to make out.

Koutarou who beams at you when you call him by his last name. Don’t get him wrong, he enjoys when you call him Koutarou, but he can’t help the flash of heat that shoots between his legs when he hears your sweet voice calling him Bo.

Koutarou who loves you so wholeheartedly he may burst at the seams. Who is your best friend. Who you can be completely yourself with and who supports you in everything you do. You know in your bones that he’s your one and only. Who has been secretly planning on proposing to you for awhile and most definitely cries when you say yes.

Koutarou who is buff. Who is a great deal taller than you. Who is packed with muscle and his cock is, to say the least, thick. Who is just the right length that makes you feel as if you could take him multiple times over without hurting.

Koutarou who gets rock hard whenever you kiss his neck. Who gasps, whining and squirming underneath you when you sink your teeth into the muscle covering his pulse point. Who tilts his head to the side and melts when you leave hickies. Who tries his best to cover it up the next day but Miya Atsumu teases him at practice anyways.

Koutarou who only really curses during sex. Who is unable to stop the nasty words from leaving his mouth. You think it’s the biggest turn on when he can’t help but whimper a soft “fuck,” when he gets his dick inside you for the first thrust.

Koutarou who loves when you suck his cock. Who enjoys when you’re on your back and he straddles your chest. Who thrusts into your mouth from above and moans when you grip his ass to help him along. Who braces a hand against the wall, one hand in your hair as he watches his dick shine with your saliva as it repeatedly disappears between your lips.

Koutarou who likes to suffocate between your thighs. Who begs you to sit on his face and who grips your hips and forces you to rub your clit over his tongue. Who covers his finger in your slick and teases your rim until you cry out his name cum on his tongue.

Koutarou who was nervous when you suggested having sex in his car, but now he’s addicted. Who can’t do anything but hold your waist and whimper “yeah just like that pretty girl,” as you hold onto his shoulders. You use your feet and thighs to bounce on his cock in the drivers seat that’s been pushed all the way back.

Koutarou whose toes curl, cock twitching as his eyes either stayed glued to where your pussy sucks him in or the way your tits bounce in his face. You can’t help but tilt your head down to stare just the same.

Koutarou who whines high pitched and moans in your ear when he fucks you in missionary. Who folds you into a mating press and babbles about how good your pussy is. Who shivers as he tries to hold back from cumming too quickly. Who circles your clit and makes you squirt in this position.

Koutarou who sits back on his calves and grips your tits, fucking into you and curling his hips upwards to make you gasp and cry out his name. Who tells you how pretty you look underneath him and how much he loves when you cum on his cock.

Koutarou who almost cums instantly when you praise him for being so good at fucking you.

Koutarou who whispers how much he loves you and flushes pink when he starts to cum. Whose heart thumps wildly in his chest and who buries his face into your neck as he whines and fills you to the brim.

Koutarou who can never resist resting all his weight on you afterwards. Who snakes his arms underneath you and snuggles you tight as you both soak in the post orgasm glow. Who helps you clean up afterwards, and who gets you some water before you both take a nap or go to bed for the night.

[sunghyunjaes]

kinktober 2023 - haikyuu edition

So here is the complete masterlist i did for kinktober 2023, and it is an all haikyuu special! I’m excited to share all these with you and I hope you like them!

Day 1: THIGH RIDING - Miya Atsumu x reader

Day 2: THREESOME - Bokuto Koutaro x reader x Akaashi Keiji

Day 3: PHONE SEX - Oikawa Tooru x reader

Day 4: SHOWER/TUB - Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Day 5: MUTUAL MASTURBATION - Kageyama Tobio x reader

Day 6: ORAL - Terushima Yuuji x reader

Day 7: ORGASM DENIAL - Matsukawa Issei x reader

Day 8: DOMINATION - Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader

Day 9: SKINNY DIPPING - Hinata Shoyo x reader

Day 10: VIDEO TAPING - Suna Rintarou x reader

Day 11: STRANGERS - Iwaizumi Hajime x reader

Day 12: PUBLIC PLAY - Tendou Satori x reader

Day 13: GROUP SEX - Seijoh 4 x reader

Day 14: AGE DIFFERENCE - Ukai Keishin x reader

Day 15: MORNING SEX - Bokuto Koutaro x reader

Day 16: DADDY - Miya Osamu x reader

Day 17: DIRTY TALK - Miya Atsumu x reader

Day 18: HAIR PULLING - Kozume Kenma x reader

Day 19: SPANKING - Iwaizumi Hajime x reader

Day 20: SCRATCHING - Bokuto Koutaro x reader

Day 21: WINDOW - Suna Rintarou x reader

Day 22: KNOT - Miya Osamu x reader

Day 23: VOYEURISM - Kageyama Tobio x reader x Oikawa Tooru

Day 24: CAR - Miya Atsumu x reader

Day 25: COCKWARMING - Sugawara Koushi x reader

Day 26: DEGRADATION - Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Day 27: HATE SEX - Kuroo Tetsuro x reader

Day 28: DOUBLE PENETRATION - Kita Shinsuke x reader x Miya Osamu

Day 29: BRAT TAMING - Kita Shinsuke x reader

Day 30: OVERSTIMULATION - Sugawara Koushi x reader

Day 31: BREEDING KINK - Miya Osamu x reader

[sunghyunjaes]

kinktober 2023 -> day 31

breeding kink - miya osamu x reader

word count: 1512

A/N: so this is it! thank you so much for everyone who stuck around for this kinktober event. 31 fics in 31 days, its the biggest project i have ever done. thank u for all the love and support ❤️

kinktober masterlist

What is stopping you?

Your mind repeated the question in your head every day, and it felt like your brain was yelling at you in frustration and confusion, wanting to know why exactly you were tongue tied in this situation. It made no sense to wait anymore. The time was ideal.

Truly, there couldn't be a better time to bring it up. You were happy with your job, Osamu’s business was flourishing; he had just opened another Onigiri Miya in Tokyo. He had a good staff now, an organized system on how to manage it all. He didn’t have to be the only person worrying for the business anymore, since he had hired experienced managers. It allowed him enough breathing room to come home early, cook a nice, hearty dinner for you both that you enjoyed while sprawled on the couch in front of the TV. Money wasn’t a worry anymore.

So really, what was stopping you from bringing up the topic of kids?

You seemed to have become lost in the same thoughts again because you only came to when Osamu nudged you, making you blink and tear your eyes away from the TV screen. He was looking at you questioningly, and you could see a hint of worry behind his dark eyes.

“What’s on yer mind, doll?”

You shook your head and smiled, shrugging a bit. “It’s no big deal ‘Samu. Just a project at work.”

He hummed a little, shoving more noodles into his mouth and sparing you little glances as he did so. You knew he didn’t believe you. Your husband knew you too well to fall for such an obvious lie. But you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out how to broach the topic that was itching in the back of your mind for the last few days.

What do I even say? Put a baby in me?

You swallowed down the little knot that formed in your throat at the thought. Fuck. Was this turning you on? You grit your teeth tight enough that it hurt your jaw, scolding the little voice in your head to not do anything stupid.

When has your brain and lack of filter ever listened to you, though?

The next night, when Osamu had you sprawled on his lap, your back against his front, two fingers buried knuckles deep inside you and having pulled an orgasm out of you already, you babbled out the thought that had been plaguing you for many, many days.

“‘Sa- Samu,” you whined, long and desperate, dragging out his name. “Need your cock. Need your cum. Please.”

Osamu groaned in reply, pulling out his drenched fingers from your core and laying you on the bed. You pulled your legs up on instinct, spreading them wide, knees brought up to your sides. Osamu’s responding moan was sinful.

“S-shit, baby,” he breathed, clumsy hands quickly discarding his shirt and sweatpants. “Ya want it that bad? So ready to take me?”

You nodded your head frantically, back arching when he finally sunk his big, throbbing cock into you. The slide was comfortable and easy, considering how long you had spent spread apart on his fingers. Osamu wasted no time in immediately picking up speed, knowing exactly what spots to hit that had you reduced to a weepy mess.

You fumbled around until you had grabbed Osamu’s hands, hooking both of them under your knees and applying pressure. Osamu stared at you in realization before he shifted a bit and used his weight to hold your legs apart. You wanted him to put you in a mating press.

“This what ya want, sweetheart?” His voice was so hoarse you felt like you could cum just at the sound of it. “Fuck, ya look so sexy. All spread out fer me.”

Osamu was big on dirty talk, you knew. He loved speaking during sex and he loved when you spoke during sex. Over the years, you two had tried any and every thing in the bedroom that you possibly could, and you had lost all shame when it came to voicing your desires. The filthier, the better actually. Osamu could easily cum if you talked him through it.

Pair that with your days-old ruminating thoughts, and everything spilled out of you like word vomit.

“‘Samu,” you gasped. “Fuck me hard and deep, please. Please. Need to- need to be filled up with your cum, daddy. Need it.”

Osamu’s thrusts sped up and he cursed under his breath. “You’ll get it, babygirl. You’ll get daddy’s cum. Every last drop.”

You nodded frantically, crying out at a particularly well aimed thrust. “Yes! I- Osamu!” You wailed when his thumb made contact with your clit. Your nails dug into his back as you scrambled to pull him close. “Gimme. ‘Samu, gimme.”

Osamu was moaning into the skin of your neck, your legs over his shoulders and your body bent in half. “What’s gotten into ya today, baby? So greedy.”

You wound a hand through his hair, feeling the knot in your stomach pull tighter and tighter. You were seconds away from an orgasm. You pulled his head up by the hair until he was looking into your eyes. Your tears-coated, weepy eyes.

“Get me pregnant, Osamu. I want your kids.”

You didn’t have the time or the mental coherence to look at his reaction, because your orgasm washed over you like a freight train. Osamu’s movements stuttered, as a result of your words or you reaching your peak, you didn’t know. All you could do was feel the waves of electricity wash over you as you tried to breathe through the overwhelming feeling.

It was only when Osamu slowed to a stop in you, still twitching and throbbing, that you opened your wet eyes. He was looking down at you with mouth slightly open in shock, breathing still labored from his previous exertion. His dark hair was messy, stuck to the sweat on his forehead. All was silent between you.

“Are you serious?” He breathed, trying to see through your post-orgasm face. You nodded slowly.

“Thought about it a lot.” You admitted, tightening your legs around his waist a bit. “I’m ready if you are.”

A few more seconds, before Osamu bit his bottom lip and groaned, eyes falling to half mast again. He breathed deep, shaking his head. The corner of his mouth twitched up a bit.

“Do ya know how long I’ve waited fer this?” His voice was husky. He pulled himself up and unwound your legs from his waist. Then he bent you in half again, before setting a fast, bruising, brutal pace.

You gasped and threw your head back at the sudden change, pussy still sensitive from your orgasm, jaw going slack. His cock pounded into you with all the ferocity he could summon, one of the roughest sessions you two had had for a while, burning through you like embers crawling under your skin.

“Thought ‘bout it so much.” He continued choking out words, not slowing in the slightest. “The thought of ya all fat an’ swollen with ma kids. Fuck. Yer gonna look radiant.”

You moaned with him, picturing your pregnant belly, glowing face. Picturing a little human that you will birth. A human that Osamu could potentially put in you now.

“Daddy,” you whined. “Need…. I need- please.”

“Need what, baby?” Osamu had a little smirk on his face. His skin was flushed and damp, a drop of sweat rolling down the side of his face. His eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out his pupils. He looked feral.

“Need my load in ya? That it? Need ta take every last drop, yeah? Can’t risk wastin’ it.”

His hand came up, winding into your hair and tugging hard until you yelped.

“Take it, doll. Take it-”

His voice broke into a long moan as his hips stuttered and you felt warmth flood your insides, his bulging biceps trembling as he tried to hold his weight up through his orgasm. He was loud through it, coaxing you with rough words and even rougher fingers pinching your clit until you came one last time with a heaving cry, eyes rolling up into your head.

You had barely caught your breath when Osamu reached up to grip your face tightly with one hand, your cheeks squishing together. You stared at him with zoned out, misty eyes.

“Don’t ya dare waste a single drop.” He whispered so close that his lips brushed your puckered ones. “Keep it inside yer pussy like a grateful slut, ya hear me?”

You moaned in response, nodding weakly against his grip. He pulled out then and you clenched tightly, but you could feel it as a little bit trailed down your crack. Osamu hummed in disappointment, holding your legs open and watching as his cum leaked out.

“Poor baby. Couldn’t do it, could ya?” You felt him lean forward and brush a surprisingly soft kiss below your ear.

“I guess I’ll just have ta keep goin’ until I know yer pregnant fer sure.”

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy y @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[sunghyunjaes]

kinktober 2023 -> day 30

overstimulation - sugawara koushi x reader

word count: 662

warnings: smut, swearing, nsfw, dom!suga

kinktober masterlist

Sugawara Koushi could be cruel.

Your friends would be appalled by this statement. So would anyone who had met him even once. Koushi? Cruel? What a ridiculous thing to say. Koushi was kind and nurturing. He was a great mentor, and helpful senpai, a loyal friend. He didn’t have a single cruel bone in his body.

Oh, the misconceptions people have.

“Come on, baby.” He cooed, voice like honey in your ear, sounding as soothing as he always did. But it didn’t settle you at all. It couldn’t. Not with how tightly wound up you were. Not when your muscles were fatigued and stretched taut, every limb constricting and twisting until it almost hurt. You let out a broken sob, shaking your head with any ounce of strength you still had in you.

“Can’t.” You heaved out. “Can’t, Koushi. Can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” He encouraged, breath hitting the shell of your ear. “Which one will this be? Fifth? Sixth? Come on, sweetie. You’ve done more before. Don’t disappoint me.”

And you weeped, because it was true, you didn’t want to disappoint him. Despite the tingles that ran over your swollen, angry cunt, and despite how it burned when Koushi’s cock slid over your walls, you wanted to cum for him. You wanted to see the way his pupils dilated and how his pink tongue slid over his bottom lip when he watched you fall apart on him. While he loved watching you cum, you loved how he looked at you while you came.

You felt numb from the waist down, like the very soul had been sapped out of you. Koushi moved in deep, languid strokes that ended with him digging into the spongy little spot inside you. Stars burst in your vision with every brush of his cock on it, and despite how far you had been pushed, little tendrils of pleasure still zipped up your stomach at the feeling. Koushi’s fingers, skilled and meticulous, ran over your clit in ghostly touches, and even that little brush of them had you jerking and twitching. You felt empty, spent, and your boyfriend still showed no signs of stopping. He had been saying ‘one more’ for the last two hours, and here you were, cumming on him over and over until you were dizzy and blood was roaring in your ears.

You gasped when Koushi sped up, dread running through you. Speeding up meant he was ready to see you cum again, but you were sure you couldn’t give him more. You couldn’t. You felt like there was nothing left to give.

“Koushi. Please.” You didn’t know what you were begging him for. To stop, and finally let your body rest? Or to keep going, unable to yet give up on the buzzing happening under your skin?

He hummed to let you know he had heard, giving you a soft smile entirely contradictory to his cruel behavior. His hair fell to the side, windswept and effortlessly gorgeous. His eyes were warm brown as always, staring at you kindly like he wasn’t buried balls deep in you. His thumb and forefinger pinched your clit, making you yelp, before he immediately started rubbing on it hard.

“Fuck-” There was no stopping it, your breath completely ceasing in your lungs as your back arched impossibly high, another mind-numbing orgasm shaking through your very bones. Your teary eyes never left Koushi’s warm ones, watching as he bit his lower lip, gaze running hungrily over your sweaty, trembling body.

You gasped and nearly choked your way through it, going limp and hugging Koushi’s waist with your weak legs. He placed a soft kiss on your temple, running a hand up your side to ground you, whispering sweet praises into your skin and stilling inside you to give you a little reprieve. His lips brushed your ear, laying a tiny kiss behind it before speaking the two words you had been dreading the most.

“One more.”

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[sunghyunjaes]

kinktober 2023 -> day 28

double penetration - kita shinsuke x reader x miya osamu

word count: 1186

warnings: smut, swearing, kita and reader are in an established relationship, fluff towards the end

kinktober masterlist

You liked to believe you knew your boyfriend, Kita Shinsuke, pretty well.

You had met as mere kids in diapers. You had grown up with him. You knew of his careful routine, his vigilant schedule. You knew how caring he was, how wonderfully attentive. His love for his profession, hours and hours put into his precious fields, to earn a living for himself and you, his loving, doting housewife. All of these qualities, and more, were what made you fall in love with him in the first place.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Kita would ever suggest something like this.

You stared into his burning gold eyes with tears in your own, mouth dropped open, struggling to breathe. He reached for your face, careful thumb brushing over your wet cheek. You inhaled deeply as your body was jostled forward again, your stare with Kita breaking as your eyes squeezed shut and a low groan sounded from behind you.

“Go slow, Osamu.” You heard Kita say. “She’s hurtin’.”

A huff from the man in question. “I thought ya said ya prepped her for this.”

“Apparently not enough.” Came the reply.

It took another few minutes before Osamu was fully buried inside you, both men finally filling you up to the hilt. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, shaky and broken.

“Relax, sweetheart.” You heard your husband’s voice, gentle and doting in your ear. You felt his hand run through your hair where your head rested against his shoulder, trying with everything in you to undo how tense your muscles were. You weren’t used to this. You and Kita enjoyed a very vanilla sex life. It wasn’t even until one month ago that Kita had started playing with your ass, experimenting by prodding it, then entering, fingering, fucking.

You had loved it.

“Shinsuke,” you lifted yourself up, supporting your weight with your hands on Kita’s chest. You felt your back brush against Osamu’s front, felt his breath hit the back of your neck as your movement caused both men to shift inside you.

“You okay, baby?” Kita intertwined the fingers of his right hand with your left, the other running slowly down your side for comfort.

You nodded. “Feels- feels good.”

Kita’s lips turned up slightly in a smile. “Yeah?”

You nodded.

Kita shifted his hips then, just enough to change the angle of his cock in your pussy, causing you to whine. Behind you, Osamu groaned.

“Don’t do that, Kita-san.” His voice was so strained it caused worry to stir in your chest. “She’s clenchin’ round me so tight. I’ll cum too quick.”

Your cheeks burned at how crude he sounded, and you would feel embarrassed if you weren’t so preoccupied with how stuffed you were. Growing up with Kita meant growing up with Osamu too. He was your friend. And now here he was, buried balls deep in your asshole.

“Move, Osamu.” Kita finally said, before holding your hips tight with both hands, planting his feet steadily on the bed, and thrusting up into you.

You cried out and Osamu groaned, immediately following suit. You felt the breath get knocked out of you, eyes rolling up as both men began moving in earnest.

The sounds filling the air were nothing short of filthy, wet squelching that caused your body to heat up in embarrassment, yet somehow made you even more horny. God, you had never felt like this before. Never for one second were you left empty. If Kita pulled out, Osamu thrusted back in, and when Osamu left you, Kita filled you up. You couldn’t breathe with how shot every nerve in your body was, eyes crossing when Kita quickly found your sweet spot, making you yelp and arch back, once again making soft contact with the sturdy torso behind you.

Osamu’s arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place against his chest. His teeth grazed the side of your neck before leaving a tiny bite on the skin.

“Watch it,” Kita choked out. “No marks.”

Osamu’s lips replaced his teeth then, moving up to nibble at your earlobe. Throughout all of it, neither men even slowed their pace. You felt your body jerk and jolt, manhandled by these two men as they used you for their pleasure. You moaned loudly at the thought.

“F-fuck.” Osamu groaned into your ear. “F-feels so good, Y/N-san. Yer tight as anythin’.”

The undulating of three bodies felt heavenly. Touches felt on every part of you at any given time. Your holes ached, as if protesting the intrusion, the carving of big cocks inside your tight insides. Kita’s hands ran over your thighs, soothing any ache that formed with your position, while Osamu’s big hand ran over your front, groping and squeezing your breast with eager motions. Kita’s noises were low and consistent, small groans leaving his lips every few seconds. Osamu was louder, whining and cursing in your ear as if he was losing his virginity all over again.

You were so turned on you couldn't think straight.

You felt a familiar thumb find your clit, clenching hard when Kita started working it in tight, hard circles. You wailed at the feeling, almost trying to push away from it. It was too much. It was all so overwhelming-

“I’m gonna cum,” you weeped, eyes catching your husband’s while your nails dug into the arm Osamu had wrapped around you. “Shinsuke, I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, baby.” He replied, tugging you down onto his body again and holding your hips still as both him and Osamu picked up the pace. You screamed and cried as your orgasm hit you full force, briefly whiting out your vision and making your body twitch and jerk all over. You heard Osamu moan, low and loud, before he buried himself in you to the hilt and warmth spread inside you. Kita was next, thrusting a few more times before he came as well, groaning and huffing in your ear.

You fell limp onto Kita, wincing when Osamu slowly pulled out, his cum dripping down to where you and Kita were still joined. Kita made no move to do the same. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, turning you both to your sides.

You heard Osamu mumble something about a shower before pattering out of the room, leaving you in the warmth of your husband’s arms. You let your eyes fall shut.

“You okay?”

You hummed and nodded, hugging him tighter. You felt him lay a kiss on the crown of your head.

“I take it that you’ll wanna do that again?”

You giggled and looked up at him, grinning sheepishly. “Was it that obvious?”

He ran a hand through your hair, pushing it off your forehead. “You shoulda’ seen yerself, baby. Pretty little thing, moanin’ and cryin’ on our cocks. Ya looked like ya were gonna pass out.”

You groaned and buried your head into his chest again, feeling it vibrate with his laugh. A smile tugged at your lips when you heard the shower turn on in the next room.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats s @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!