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a-kaash-me-outside · 1 year

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the walls are thin - ch3

in which atsumu is your college neighbor with whom you share a wall. previous | ch3 | next [masterlist]

// perfectly inconsiderate, maybe cluelessly oblivious ~ ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 6733 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: soft self-indulgent flirtationship with hanamaki, 18+ masturbation (and eventual smut), feelings are confusing, flirting is also confusing (but prevalent), seijoh4 hangout session, more lunch dates, flustered contact, afab reader she/her pronouns oh and ofc she's got a playlist (♡)

send an ask and i’ll add ya to the taglist! ~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

this has happened before. this isn’t some new phenomenon taking you by surprise. this has happened many times before, actually. this isn’t out of the ordinary for your overly sexually active, inconsiderate, unknown neighbor.

but for some stupid reason it feels out of the ordinary for atsumu. not miya atsumu, the name on the door of your irritatingly thoughtless neighbor, but for atsumu, the one you texted for two weeks straight and that commented on every single one of your vacation photos with silly inside jokes and who called you to talk about his first day back at volleyball practice.

you knew this time was coming sooner or later, or, in hindsight, you should have. he didn’t just magically change who he was because he met you and he admitted it himself, he only really started hanging out with you because he wanted to fuck you. and you don’t blame him for that. your motives were similar at first.

the shift from strangers to flirting strangers to friends was a bit more difficult than you thought it would be, especially when you haven’t really moved on from the whole flirting bit or the whole wanting to be more than friends but not wanting to ruin the rest of your last college year bit.

you know him now. maybe not know him, but you know enough, more than nothing, so being here, consciously listening to the first time that atsumu has fucked someone since you moved from nothing to something just isn’t sitting right with you. not that you can even really focus on the noises if you wanted to, not with all of this thinking going on in your head.

your stomach drops.

this actually probably isn’t the first time that he’s fucking someone since you met. he probably picked back up on this routine the second that volleyball stopped for spring break and the realization is really making your stomach hurt. the thought of him with someone else, texting you before and after, is having too much of an effect on you.

the only saving grace is that you can’t hear them, not the beds or the impact, but them. you’re not sure you could’ve ever recovered from that, not now. the air of the situation has already changed just from knowing him, but if you had to hear him too, you’re not sure you could have continued down this path of friendship. more than that, it feels like a betrayal, creepy maybe, and, at the very least, weird for you. you feel like a stranger in your own home. you can barely think as you swallow the lump in your throat. there’s so much on your mind, so many feelings swarming around you and you can feel every single one on your skin even if you can’t identify some of them.

and underneath it all, a small but persistent sting.

you can’t be here a second longer.

even as you close your door softly behind you, your chest feels tight. through your entire walk, your chest feels tight. you’re no longer in your room, but you can still feel the rhythm beneath your sternum. you shake your head, arms, all the way out to your hands, trying to get this feeling off of your body, sitting in anticipation as you wait for a response to your knocking.

“not fucking this again, you’re lucky-,” maki says, hushed but forceful, throwing open the door. whatever was about to come out of his mouth dissipates in his throat before it can even reach his tongue. he moves aside from the door, giving you plenty of space to leave the openness of the hallway. his features quickly morph into concern and now you’re feeling bad that you’re making it somebody else’s problem.

he locks the door quickly and pulls you into his room. only when his door is also shut and locked behind the two of you does he speak, “what happened?”

you’re silent for what feels like the better half of an hour, though realistically you’re sure is a handful of minutes. “‘ts stupid,” you mumble, shaking your head. you still feel small, but you’re starting to feel a bit more normal as maki wraps his fingers around your forearm.

from the second that he saw you, he knew that whatever happened had something to do with your previously shitty turned okay turned shitty again obviously neighbor. he asks anyways, “did atsumu do something?”

you don’t try to, in fact, you actively try not to, but the events are too recent, mind too swarming to have as much control as you’d like; you wince at his name. despite everything you’re feeling, somehow you’re still able to focus on maki as he warms, mouth opening to spout something loud, but shutting to be replaced with a calm exhale. what he really wants to do is go over there at this exact second, but what he needs to do is just be there for you.

you shrug your shoulders a bit, pathetic laugh leaving your chest at the pure familiarity of it all, “lover boy’s at it again.” the confusion that takes on maki’s face is gone just as quickly, waiting for you to explain rather than make assumptions. you continue, “it’s been three weeks with nothing and then -”

maki interrupts you, sitting on his bed and smoothing the space next to him. you sit, back against the wall, legs crossed, head hanging. you explain everything to him and it’s hard to remember that all of this happened just a few hours ago. the lunch, the weird thing atsumu said to you, the hurt that you noticed on his face, the note he left you, the cactus, your feelings every step of the way.

by the end of it your head is on maki’s pillow facing maki whose head is also on his pillow and he has the slightest, feather-like, ghosting touch on your hip and you’re slowly forgetting the distress you were in earlier. maki’s always had that effect on you, really.

“you’re welcome to stay over until-,” he starts, but you cut him off, shaking your head.

“no, i have to…,” you pause. have to what? “i have to do it, stay over at my own place and stuff. i can’t keep hiding at yours every time something happens,” you reason, and it feels good coming out of your mouth. it feels like progress. “i will take you up on that offer tonight, obviously, because i’m not moving from this very spot.” there isn’t much space between the two of you, but you’re determined for their to be none, scooching closer, forehead resting on his shoulder.

“tomorrow night i’ll sort myself out, wear headphones or something, i don’t know.” as you shrug, your arm moves against his, just another reminder of how close you are to him.

the two of you sit in silence for a minute and it’s nice to be able to not feel like you have to keep talking in an attempt to feel better. you pull back, just a few inches, to look at him, “but it’s nice that you’d let me stay here indefinitely,” you smile, a real smile, a lightness returning again if only for a moment.

he presses a soft kiss onto your forehead. “unfortunately,” he jokes, “i would do just about anything for you, so.”

“i think that’s pretty fortunate for me,” you laugh softly, and you really do mean it.

/++/

you make true to your promise. the next day you stay in despite how much you want to leave your room and go anywhere else.

> maki ♡ / 12:32 am > futon/bed is open if tonight’s too much btw

< 12:32 am < should be okay < but ty < will update you tomorrow < wish me luck

> maki ♡ / 12:33 am > nah > you don’t need it

the anticipation is almost worse than it just happening. you wait and wait and wait for the inevitable noise to come, but it doesn’t. by 1 am you’re wondering why you just haven’t gone to sleep yet. by 2 am you know that it’s because you want to know if something is going to happen. by 3 am you can barely keep your eyes open and he’s done it again, inadvertently fucked up your sleep schedule.

two more nights go by and nothing, both peaceful, quiet nights that you would’ve killed for at the beginning of the semester. now even these feel sour.

it really can’t get any worse than this.

/++/

> miya atsumu / 11:23 am > are you avoiding me?

shit.

in the span of these three anticipatory days, you hadn’t seen atsumu, not in the hallway or around campus. that could potentially have been on account of you not being in your dorm building except to sleep and avoiding common student areas like the plague. potentially.

you weren’t necessarily avoiding him, just the places where you had the highest chance of running into him. there’s a difference.

< 12:01 pm < lol no

> miya atsumu / 12:03 pm > prove it. let’s go get lunch

shit.

/++/

you get there first, set out a small blanket in the far corner past the busy areas around the student union. of course you agreed to go and of course you felt like you might puke but you couldn’t just avoid him for the rest of the year and the longer you waited, the worse it would get.

at least you had time to prepare yourself, fiddled with the lunch that you had grabbed, told yourself everything would probably be fine, tried to anticipate whatever his reaction would be to how awkward you were inevitably about to be. you try to keep your head down, like you couldn’t care less about when he’s coming, paying attention to your phone. this, of course, just means that his voice, all the way from across the lawn, scares the shit out of you.

“i can’t believe you tried to ghost me,” he says loudly, voice traveling, catching the attention of a few too many people, completely negating the quietness of the spot you’ve chosen, arm outstretched, pointer finger perfectly in your direction as he closes the distance between the two of you. “after i watched your plants, bought you lunch, got you a cactus?”

shit shit shit shit shit shit. if it were anyone else, there would be a moment of fear, of terror, like you’ve certainly fucked something up, but with atsumu that wasn’t the case. his tone is light, perfectly airy, really, harboring a teasing nature that means the difference between fake annoyance and real. and there’s laughter bubbling up from your stomach, taking over the pit that has been sitting there since you first got his text message.

you really try not to let him win, to let him back into your good graces as easily as you’re about to. though, you’re actually not sure he’s done anything wrong in the first place, not when you’re the one that basically turned him down, not vice versa. he’s still here, still trying to be your friend, still making an effort.

“i know where you live,” he shouts.

just like before, you feel all of your resolve slipping away. your lips upturn, smile wide as you let the laughter come in waves, clutching at your stomach when the feeling doesn’t stop for some reason. he takes a seat beside you, “come on, yn, people are staring. it wasn’t that funny,” he smirks.

still throwing tiny flirts and inside jokes in your direction.

he’s looking gorgeous yet again. you only notice it, unfortunately, when he’s sitting right next to you, shoulder pressed up against yours, stealing a grape from your fruit cup. he’s to blame, really, for looking that good stealing your food.

“i’m sorry i’ve been absent the past couple of days,” you say, and you mean it too much to care about how genuine it sounds in comparison to your typical taunting.

you wait for him to keep it up, the poking fun, or at the very least ask you why you were gone, all outcomes that you really didn’t want to deal with. instead, however, he takes another piece of fruit from the plastic cup, “no sweat.” he shrugs, “just don’t do it again.”

you exhale something adjacent to a laugh, “alright, yeah, deal.”

he reaches over once more, hand open and moving towards your fruit cup. you smack his shoulder, “oh my god, get your own.” it’s effortless, the playfulness that comes out of you, and it’s making you feel like the past three days never even happened. he pauses and looks like he’s deep in thought.

“nah,” he reaches forward again. this time a smack doesn’t do it, because despite you hitting his hand, wrist, forearm, wherever you can reach, multiple times, he just keeps pushing forward. there might be a metaphor somewhere there.

you grab onto his arm, “are you kidding?” it takes more of your strength than you’re willing to admit, wrapping both arms around his bicep and trying to pull him away, but he just keeps on. “i paid 5 whole dollars for that,” you groan, voice strained by the effort of your attempts as you practically crawl on top of him. he pulls his arm back further like it’s nothing at all to counteract the weight of your entire body on his arm, laughing as he does so. you make one final attempt, springing forward.

“‘tsumu, seriously.”

and then he stops, blush spreading across his nose and cheeks. he clears his throat, doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s staring at you and you’re 100% certain that his blush is contagious. you don’t know whether to tease him or apologize or just carry on. you let your arms hang around his, knees on either side of his thigh.

eventually, you lean back into the balls of your feet, creating a bit more distance between the two of you slowly. it’s like your movement made the moment real, made it come back to life. he smiles, shakes his head. “you’re something else, you know that?”

all you can do is smile proudly, still frozen in this position and a tiny part of you, the smallest goddamn bit, wishes that there was something off about the interaction, but you can’t find a single bitter feeling anywhere.

/++/

that night, you hear it. the second that it starts, you’re worried that it’s going to send you back into whatever that was again, but the only worrying that you actually end up doing is worrying about worrying. the thumping is soft. even in your bed, you can barely hear it. most of the time it fades into the background and only once every few minutes are you reminded that it’s even happening.

still, you’re convinced that any minute now all of that is going to change, the pace is going to pick up, the noises are going to get louder, you just know it.

and then you fall asleep. during the lull between soft reminders, you drift off and in the morning you don’t really know what to feel. you just feel… normal?

you spend all morning worrying, then, that this normal is a false sense of security, that it’s going to start a weird cycle where you ditch atsumu for three days straight again, but while you’re getting ready, atsumu knocks on your door and offers to walk you to class even though his class doesn’t start until 10 and is on the other side of campus just because you mentioned that you get lonely on your 9 am walks in a passing text message during spring break.

the two of you walk to your class and atsumu tells you to meet him for lunch and you’re looking forward to it. you’re not even thinking about last night. maybe that’s because last night wasn’t too disruptive, but even still, you don’t spend the next nights waiting for something to happen. it just feels normal.

it’s much less frequent than before, still happening every few days, but not nearly as often as before you knew him. though, you traded constancy for knowing him. it didn’t matter how far between those nights were, they were different now. not completely, of course. you still drowned it out with your headphones, still went to go study instead of just sitting around and dealing with it, but it was the times that you didn’t leave that were really different.

before you used to just get annoyed at every noise that wasn’t a bedpost against your shared wall. the thumping was bad, but at least it was consistent. the squeaking, the moans, the muffled voices, now they weren’t just annoying. now you could see everything so clearly in your head. you had a face, a body, a personality to attribute to these actions.

every time these thoughts would start and your imagination wandered, you curbed it quickly. you didn’t let yourself indulge in them, only got so far as to tilt your head and listen closer one time. it felt like a breach of privacy, like you were betraying trust he didn’t even know he was instilling in you.

the sounds were easy enough to ignore, sure, but the feeling of the wall against your shoulder? that was a little harder to feign oblivion to. the thumping was sending waves through your entire body and even though you weren’t listening, you could picture it so clearly in your head, not the rhythm, but his rhythm. the abstracts of these actions were becoming so human, so atsumu.

when you close your eyes you can see him, but you don’t see him over his shoulder or like a movie, no. you see him like you’re underneath him, like you’re the one making him shake the wall. you take a deep breath, hands moving on their own as they pull your headphones off, setting them on your side table so gently, like if you were too rough, atsumu would be able to hear you.

your heart is beating so violently against your chest and there is a tiny voice in the back of your head telling you that this is probably a bad idea, but you can hear him now, muffled but still audible, the groans and deliberate small praises. you slide your palm over your neck, squeezing gently, following your body down, digging your own nails into your collarbones, skimming over your chest. if you weren’t so aware that these noises had been going on for some time already, you might have teased yourself a bit more, let you feel yourself a bit more, but his moans are getting more desperate and you can’t hold yourself back.

your hand is slow as it moves between your legs, two fingers slipping between your lips and you’re almost embarrassed at how wet you are already. whoever else is in that room is sobbing, crying out his name and it’s not your voice, but you imagine that it is, like you’re the one he’s turned into this babbling mess.

you push two fingers inside of yourself and it’s not enough, not big enough, not long enough, but it’ll do for now. you move your fingers in time with the thumping against the wall, getting faster when he does.

“yeah? is it good?” he says, words punctuated by a faster pace. “tell me how good it is.”

“‘s so good,” you say under your breath, shoving another finger inside of yourself, other hand digging into the fat of your hip just like you’re imagining atsumu would.

“reach down and rub that fucking clit,” he groans through gritted teeth, the banging of the wall getting a bit less consistent. “fuck, that’s good.”

you move your other hand down, rubbing small circles into your clit as you finger yourself as fast as his pace is letting you. a whine is trapped in your throat, coming out in the form of a small, low hum as you roll your hips onto your fingers.

“deeper, atsumu, deeper, please,” you hear someone cry.

you know that you should probably feel jealous, and you do, but more than anything you feel yourself flood, your entire body warm as your sloppy hole quivers around your own fingers, around atsumu’s cock. you feel delusional.

“not yet. not until ya’ve earn it,” he growls, “tighten that pussy around me. milk my cock.” the moan tears out of you without warning, throaty and taken, barely audible, mouth agape as you tighten around your own fingers. it’s not just what he’s saying, it’s how he sounds while he’s saying it, that fucking accent - thicker and stronger than any other time you’ve heard it. you’re shaking, your own mind deceiving you, telling you that one day you’ll coax it out of him, take him so well that you can barely fucking understand him.

you’re so close, so fucking close, but you don’t want to finish until he has, want to hear him as he comes, pay close attention to what he sounds like so you can play it on repeat everytime you fuck yourself

“good girl,” he says, and it’s like it was made for you.

you’re whispering thank yous under your breath. you’re convinced he can hear them, that he knows how grateful you are for them. “gonna come,” you warn him.

“‘m almost there, fuck,” he grunts and the wall shakes harder, harsher. “fuck.” his voice is throaty. his breathing is labored, heavy. and then the walls stop shaking. a single strangled moan rips from atsumu, a string of mumbles and obscenities that you can’t really make out follow and you come all over your fingers, fucking yourself through your orgasm as your walls flutter around your all-too-small fingers.

you pull your hands from between your legs, resting them at your side, chest rising and falling so heavily that you’re surprised you’re still conscious. fuck, you were going to need a minute to recover.

she obviously is not given that luxury. you hear some murmurs and mumbles, hear the bed groan, keys jingle, and a door open and then immediately shut. if you wanted to, you could go over there right now and see exactly what he looks like after something like that, but you can’t really move, couldn’t get up from your bed let alone put proper clothes on and walk over there despite how tempting that sounds.

after everything clears, you’re waiting for the regret to sink in, for the guilt to take its place, but it doesn’t. sure, it feels a bit taboo, but if you really regretted it, you wouldn’t have kept doing it. you wouldn’t have kept listening, kept masturbating to it, wouldn’t have stayed up waiting for it to happen.

and you’re not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing, how easy it was for you to face him during the day, to ask him how his nights were and to flirt with him in the same way that you used to. your relationship stays the same, good, great even. you continue to hang out just as much as you used to despite the fact that you knew things about him and his sex like that maybe you shouldn’t have known.

you learned things, patterns, kinks, all because atsumu was perfectly inconsiderate, maybe cluelessly oblivious.

it wasn’t just the one time that she left minutes after everything was said and done, it was every time. in fact, if you really wanted to, you could, without even listening for the click of the door, go over there without catching her just on the basis of how consistent it was.

you knew that he loved to hear his own name during sex, moaned and panted and screamed and whined. he asked for it frequently, for them to call out his name, always seemed to be motivated by it.

you knew that he loved to be deep throated, but that no one could really take him as deep as he wanted to go. you wouldn’t admit to anyone the lengths you’ve gone to attempt it, even bought a new dildo just to open up your throat and to reach deeper and stretch you wider than your fingers could now. it felt so good, reached so deep. you could picture it as atsumu’s, use it whenever he boasted about how deep he was inside of you, how big his cock was, how well you took him.

you knew that his head is sensitive, could tell exactly when someone was paying extra attention to it based on his whimpers alone. you knew that there was one time that he got fingered and you have never heard him react so much to one thing. you knew that he loved to come deep inside, would ask if he could between sweet kisses, and when he got a positive response, he was gone in seconds.

you knew that he loved dirty talk, though most of his partners usually left that up to him. the stunned silence that dirty talking right back could result in is something that didn’t happen enough, not when he was so fucking good. he deserved it all and thensome. he deserved everything that he wanted all at once, wrapped up in a neat little bow.

and it just kept happening, this weird cycle of finding out more and more about atsumu’s sex life intercut with the two of you casually hanging out finding out more and more about atsumu’s life life.

but sometimes the stars would align, sometimes they had a hand in each other in ways that you could have never even dreamed of.

/++/

“do you have lunch plans, because you do now,” atsumu says in one quick string, jogging to catch up with you when he spots you on campus on his walk back to the dorm.

“i actually already do have lunch plans,” you say, “but if i didn’t-.”

he cuts you off, face twisting into evident confusion, “just cancel them and come hang out with me instead.”

“no can do,” you say, shaking your head for emphasis, “i’ve bailed on them like three times already i think….” you pause, counting on your fingers, “for you. every time.”

“great, so one more isn’t that big of a deal,” he says, still walking along with you as you walk towards your rendezvous spot.

you laugh, “you know i think your persistence is cute, but it’s just not going to work this time.”

“but i don’t have lunch plans,” he complains.

“you could come have lunch with us,” you offer. you’re not sure if he’s going to go crazy for the idea, but at least it might be better than eating alone.

“yea, right,” atsumu furrows his eyebrows, “i don’t think so. your friends don’t like me very much.”

“you’ve never even hung out with them,” you reason.

“i met your one friend that one time and i don’t think he likes me,” atsumu replies and despite the fact that you’re still walking towards lunch with your friends and despite the fact that he knows that, he’s still following alongside you.

“i don’t think you liked him very much,” you retort.

atsumu’s silence seems like a pretty strong tell, but then he speaks up, “yn, he called me the volleyball guy.”

“that’s a compliment, probably.”

“ha ha,” atsumu fakes.

“come on,” you say, taking his hand in yours and dragging him along, “let’s go have lunch with my friends, tsumu.”

he narrows his eyes at you, mouth about to open to protest, but he just can’t. “i never should have told you how i feel about that nickname.”

“well, then i’d never use it,” you point out.

he’s quiet for a beat. “yea, no, that’s much worse.”

/++/

when you approach the picnic table, atsumu’s hand in yours, oikawa is the first person to notice you, shooting a questioning look your way without notifying the rest of the guys who are arguing over god knows what. be cool, you mouth. the smile on oikawa’s face doesn’t exactly read cool, it reads more mischievous.

you absolutely made a mistake.

“yn-chan!” oikawa gets up, yanking iwaizumi up with him and moving around to the other side of the table with matsukawa.

“what- what are you doing?” iwa asks, very evidently confused as to why oikawa is disrupting him in the middle of a heated argument. “yn can sit by issei, why are-.”

he’s not.

“no! it’s okay! maki’s saved you a seat,” oikawa explains, waving both you and iwa off.

the argument ceases, attention turns to you as a broad topic, but the focus is absolutely on the interlocked fingers between you and atsumu. now you have to make the choice to drop his hand or be confident about it and you’re not sure you can do either one. and, on top of that, worry about the fact that you’ve really just brought atsumu into the foxes den without even thinking.

though, atsumu never does leave you hanging. and, like always, he usually does surprise you.

atsumu tightens his grip on your hand, holding tight as he picks his arm up and throws it around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. you know that he’s soaking in the expressions that it’s elicited. slight tinge of anger on one, confusion on another, surprise on another. you just wish that you could somehow warn him about oikawa’s look of confounded vex.

“atsumu’s going to be joining us for lunch if that’s cool,” you say, not waiting for a response as you sit down next to hanamaki. you assume it’s going to be weird, moving in time with atsumu draped on your shoulder, but he follows your lead. when you’re both sitting on the bench, he withdraws his arm, placing both forearms on the table after offering a small wave.

oikawa, you knew, could infer without even knowing his name, maki’s already met him, but you’re not sure that issei and hajime are completely understanding the extent of what’s happening, why oikawa is on offense right now.

“so, how do you know yn?” oikawa asks, an iced coffee straw between his teeth.

“well, we met because we live next to each other, but now we’re best friends,” atsumu explains and you don’t have to look at maki to know he wants to hit him right now.

but this question wasn’t to provoke maki; it was to silently explain to the other people at the table what exactly was happening. iwa and issei instantly look gobsmacked. you don’t even know if they try to stop it, but if they do, they’re doing a terrible job.

“ah! that’s right!” oikawa chirps, “that neighbor we’ve heard all about.”

everyone is quiet for a second, waiting to see how atsumu will respond, but he doesn’t give oikawa nearly enough of a reaction. “well, i’m oikawa, this is iwa-chan, matsukawa, and you already know maki. of course, you know maki. anyone who knows yn knows maki.”

“yeah, we’ve met,” maki responds, smiling at oikawa’s description of him, “how’s volleyball?”

you shoot oikawa a warning glare as iwaizumi and issei start a conversation with atsumu about volleyball. watch it, you mouth. oikawa just looks confused, but you catch the slight smile that he throws in maki’s direction.

the conversations are split now. atsumu is talking to iwa and issei, conversation shifting from volleyball to iwaizumi’s goals for the future in athletic training. even with all of the shenanigans that oikawa’s already executed, atsumu is deep in thoughtful conversation with half of your friend group and if it isn’t making your heart swell up for some reason.

you lower your voice for only the otherside of the table to hear, “if you don’t knock it off…”

“then what, yn?” oikawa smirks.

“i’m going to bring hajime into this,” you narrow your eyes. it’s always a gamble bringing up hajime with oikawa. sometimes it works like a charm, a perfect pacifier to a fired up oikawa, but sometimes it backfires, just driving oikawa in the exact opposite direction of where you’re trying to get him to go. maybe you shouldn’t have bet on hajime today.

“no one likes a tattletail,” oikawa whispers, “you’ll see.”

the anticipation is back, something that you really didn’t want to return for a while. you’ve had enough of it this semester if you’re being honest. atsumu stays, thankfully, paying attention to his half of the table, laughing along with the two men about whatever they’re talking about while you face maki.

he’s not necessarily talking to you about anything in particular, just about his day and updating you on the situation with one of his old coworkers, telling jokes and just being maki. when he mentions something stupid, something unreasonably funny, it takes you by surprise, letting your head fall and clash against maki’s shoulder, holding the other one in your hand as laughter bellows from the two of you as if you were alone.

all at once, you’re taken out of the moment as you feel a hand rest on your thigh, long fingers spanning over the fabric of your skirt, curling around the hem. you slowly bring your head up, arm still resting on maki’s other shoulder and maybe this was oikawa’s plan all along, to get you to sit between maki and atsumu and feel it as much as you’re feeling it right now.

if only that were the case.

oikawa butts in on atsumu, matsukawa, and iwaizumi’s conversation, completely disregarding whatever they’re talking about. “hajime and i are together,” oikawa says, throwing his arm around iwaizumi’s shoulder, pulling him closer in a very familiar way.

“oh, that’s great,” atsumu says, evidently confused at the relevance and the disruption.

iwaizumi grabs oikawa’s wrist, throwing it off of him, “you’re being weird, kawa. you don’t even put your arm around me, i put my arm around you if anything-”

oikawa ignores him completely, “you know, that reminds me of something!” he points repetitively at atsumu as if he’s remembering something for the first time that he has to blurt out or he’ll never remember it again. he leans forward like he’s telling a secret.

no.

“y’know, maki and yn used to date,” oikawa says in a tone that you would use to tell someone a fun fact. atsumu stills, hand withdrawing from your lap as he turns to face the two of you. your hand is lingering on maki’s shoulder and you don’t want to move it because then it seems suspicious.

you turn to face atsumu, letting your hand drop from maki’s shoulder. you can’t read the expression on atsumu’s face again. you’re not a fan of that feeling.

“really?” is all atsumu asks, nothing more.

you clear your throat, “yeah, during freshman and sophomore year when all of us became friends in the first place.”

“hm,” he hums, and everyone is just waiting for something more, a bigger reaction, a scoff, a confrontation.

but atsumu never does leave you hanging. and, like always, he usually does surprise you.

atsumu snakes his arm around your waist, protective grasp punctuated by his fingertips digging into your side, the pads of his fingertips brushing against your skin as he pushes them under your loose shirt. he pulls you closer to him, slides you across the bench, away from maki, your side now pressed up against his. “yeah, but you’re just friends now, so,” atsumu shrugs and continues on with his conversation that oikawa interrupted previously.

maki and oikawa look more shocked than atsumu did. there’s a slight trace of annoyance on oikawa’s features, but maki’s is just complete shock, not animosity, just shock.

the rest of lunch goes by without another oikawa fueled hitch.

/++/

today could’ve gone a lot differently.

if oikawa wasn’t oikawa and atsumu wasn’t atsumu then it would’ve gone very differently, you’re sure. one very important difference being that you wouldn’t be here, in bed, about to fall asleep only to be woken up to that familiar sound. or, at the very least, if things would’ve gone much differently you would’ve felt too bad, too awkward, too guilty to pull the dildo from your bedside table even though you really had no intention of fucking yourself tonight.

you liked these nights the most, the ones where you were able to take it all in, tease yourself just like you’re sure he was teasing her. you could listen and be patient and follow along so nicely, but you don’t get that same luxury tonight. it’s all very quick, very fast paced and atsumu is being uncharacteristically quiet.

when he slips inside of her, you can hear the snag in his breath, and you mimic it, pushing the dildo inside of you. then you feel the vibrations. you really feel the vibrations, harder than you’ve ever felt that. it doesn’t feel like just your wall is shaking, it feels like your whole room is shaking, it’s harsh.

“fuck, is that good?” atsumu asks, the first thing he’s said all night and you can’t believe how much you missed his voice. mmhm, you whine. you can’t make the dildo fuck you as fast and as hard as you know atsumu is going right now. your arm won’t move that fast, not while feeling the stroke of his entire cock. it’s not as good as he is and you know it.

“tell me,” atsumu huffs, and usually it’s muffled, but you feel like you can hear it clear as day, right in your ear, “tell me i’m the best you’ve ever had.” your hand stops, motions cease. did you hear him correctly? it sounded so clear, you can’t be mistaken. maybe you’re making things up or putting meaning to things that aren’t really like that. you shake it off, hand moving again trying to match his speed.

he’s already out of breath, panting, and you’re realizing that the reason you haven’t been able to really hear her is because she hasn’t stopped making noise this whole time, a low, monotonous crying that hasn’t changed a bit.

“tell me,” he says, voice just as harsh as his movements.

“fuck, atsumu, you’re the best i’ve ever had.” you can’t imagine it’s not the truth. the same sentence falls out of your mouth.

“yeah? i’m better than him?” he asks, groans getting more possessive, pleas getting more desperate. he can’t even wait for her to respond, needs to hear it now. “tell me, fuck, tell me i’m better than him.” you can’t breathe. it’s not a coincidence. it can’t be. you’ve listened to atsumu have sex enough times to know that this isn’t just some kink thing that he likes. this is pointed. this is fueled. and you know exactly by what.

she listens quickly, which is fair considering that this is probably the best she’s ever felt, despite not really understanding what he’s asking her to say, “you’re so much better than him. fuck, you’re so good, atsumu.”

“yea? ‘m bigger than him, make you feel so much better than him,” atsumu groans, no longer asking, room shaking as he chases his high, “fuck need to fill you, please, fuck.”

“yes, fuck, fill me.”

“gonna fill you so full, make you feel so much fuller than he can, every drop just for you,” he whines. shit, you wanted to hear those whines in your dreams.

“every drop for me,” you whimper, pumping the cock in and out of you, clenching around the thickness, so fucking close despite the few times you couldn’t help but stop.

“just for you, -” he grunts, pretty little scream hitting him and you’re sure that tonight wasn’t just incredible for whoever he was inside of right now. it’s not the scream that sends you over the edge, but the beginning sounds of your name that fall from his tongue but are quickly cut short.

you push the dildo out of the way, body and mind exhausted by whatever just fucking happened. you count the seconds until this person is gone from atsumu’s room. the lock clicks, door opens, then slowly shuts. in the quiet of the aftermath, you hear a heavy sigh and a loud, “fuck!” followed by another softer sigh.

maybe you had more of an effect on him than you thought.

taglist: @natriae @simpfully-heartbroken @mobbbb1 @cloud-lyy @mimivinx @kjd55 @url0call1fter @kryzi @slut-for-dabi @katsunarii @unstaaableaf @misfit-megumi @solovolpe @cheezitwh0re @5sausefandom

@phantomremi @ellie111593 @pizzasdeliveries @pebble-did-what @raionmikage @niverine (might have blog finding off because i'm unable to tag!)

send an ask and i’ll add ya to the taglist! ~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

#atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #atsumu x reader smut #atsumu x female reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader smut #atsumu x yn #hq fluff #hq fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #eventual smut #toriwritesshit #twrt!

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iwas-princess · 1 year

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You ABSOLUTELY should write about atsumu's boobs!!! 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

writing abt them again bc they’re j so great

miya atsumu • not at the dinner table

“if i’d known how much ‘ya’d love my tits, i woulda upped my weights a long time ago, sugar.”

your cheeks heated as you blushed at him, slightly flustered that he’d bring up such a topic while eating.

well, to be fair, you were also burning holes into them at the dinner table and practically drooling on your plate. it was only a matter of time before he would say anything.

you nudged a green bean with your fork, rolling it around your half empty plate. your eyes flicked down to the discarded vegetable, avoiding getting caught looking for too long in fear of his growing ego.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘tsumu.” you lied, your voice wavering slightly in hesitation.

he scoffed, lightheartedly but taken aback by your lie. his own eyes dropped down, but instead of staring at his own plate, he mirrored your previous actions by admiring the cleavage of your tank top.

“not that i blame ‘ya for staring, i can hardly keep my own eyes away from yer tits too.” he mumbled, ignoring your previous attempt at fibbing.

you swallowed thickly at your boyfriend’s flirtatious comment, suddenly finding it hard to sit still as you began to rub your thighs together mindlessly.

he quieted, his gaze locked on your supple breasts spilling over the lowly cut fabric and giving him an eyeful. he silently thanked himself for choosing to lounge in nothing but sweatpants today or else the topic of breasts might have not been excusable at the table, if it wasn’t for your wondering eyes continuously checking out atsumu’s bare chest.

“can i, maybe, touch them after?” you mumbled, your voice shy and unsteady.

his ears perked up at your sheepish behavior, watching you in amusement as you fidgeted with your food nervously.

he always admired how shy you got when it came to sexual related questions, acting as if you being the filthiest slut he’s ever fucked wasn’t reality. as if you weren’t begging him last night to fill you up with his cum. or as if slobber wasn’t dripping down your chin and coating his heavy balls as you took all of him down you greedy throat yesterday morning.

he found it impossible for him to go one day without burying himself inside of you at least once, the sight of someone so sweet having the filthiest desires keeping his sex drive at all time high.

he never in a million years expected his precious babygirl to be so desperate over a pair of enlarged muscles, especially on his chest. atsumu was always big, but fuck, ever since he increased his weight training he’s been insatiable.

beforehand, you and atsumu would fuck each other five days a week, regulating a healthy sex life that kept the both of you more than satisfied with your busy work schedules. but, ever since you discovered this new kink of yours, it’s been impossible to keep your hands and mouth to yourself.

something about the way his hardened nipple felt in your mouth with your cheek pressed comfortably against his plump breast as you contently suckled, made your brain short circuit. the sensation was so serene yet incredibly sexy, and also deeply addictive— to both parties.

because even though your cocky boyfriend likes to let you believe that he only ever indulges in this kink of yours for your pleasure, he secretly enjoys if just as much as you do.

your mouth had always drove him mad, either it be wrapped around his cock or pressed against his lips, atsumu had always daydreamed about the wicked things that your filthy mouth could do for him. now, it’s even worse. watching your lashes flutter shut as you relaxed against the cushiony flesh, your lips wrapped tightly around his blush nipple and lazily suckling as you both winded down for the evening, was always the main thought that occupied his horny brain as he worked out every morning. the amount of times that he accidentally caused himself to pop an unwanted boner was beyond recording at the point.

“ya’d love that, wouldn’t ‘ya, princess?” he teased.

of course he was going to let you suckle on them later, it was his new favorite passtime. but, poking some fun at you beforehand can’t cause any harm.

your breathing caught in your throat, long lashes kissing the tops of your cheeks as you fluttered your eyes closed in longing.

atsumu’s teasing never failed to rile you up, no matter how vulgar he could be. in fact, you’ve found that the meaner, the better. he always repays you with soft aftercare anyway to heal any possible mental wounds that his words may have caused.

he chuckled at your reaction.

“are ‘ya going to ask correctly, princess?”

you gathered yourself rather quickly, knowing well enough that if you don’t give him a direct answer quickly, you would have to opt for another form of pleasure.

“pl-please, ‘tsumu. let me suck on your tits tonight, i’ll be a good girl.” you embarrassedly pleaded, your ears and neck turning red with humiliation.

the tint of your flushed skin caused a spark of corruption to jolt through atsumu’s cock, the electric feeling causing the organ to twitch in his sweatpants. he spread his legs farther under the glass table, attempting to make himself comfortable with a massive hard on.

“can’t really deny ‘ya when ask so pretty like that, now can i?”

#atsumu 🌷#atsumu #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader smut #atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader smut #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x reader smut #atsumu smut #atsumu miya smut #miya atsumu smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader

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myunconquerablesoul · 7 months

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Recommendations. *NSFW*

Haikyu!!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+ only!!!

Kageyama Tobio

SWEATER SEASON - @tteokdoroki

Iwaizumi Hajime

venus - @saetyrn9

Akaashi Keiji

treating keiji on his birthday - @kiyoobi

Miya Atsumu

himbo!atsumu - @tiniella

Miya Osamu

it's samu's birthday - @sugawarassoulmate

no title, but trust me! - @augustineafterdark (kitchen sex)

THANKFUL - @yukimiyaz

Sakusa Kiyoomi

no title, but trust me! - @sciophobia (sakusa doesn't like the idea of toys)

pussy enthusiast! sakusa kiyoomi - @miyasins

no title, but trust me! - @doingitforbokuto (Sakusa who masturbates on all fours)

Private - @teeyoomi

-> Navigation.

#recommendations #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #akaashi keji x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #kageyama tobio x reader smut #iwaizumi hajime x reader smut #akaashi keiji x reader smut #miya atsumu x reader smut #miya osamu x reader smut #sakusa kiyomi x reader smut

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mxomo · 1 year

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a kiss good luck ♡ miya atsumu

You kiss your husband good luck before an important match. c/w: haikyuu. female reader. pet names (baby girl, little miss), public fucking a/n: i dunno. 'tsumu is mean. happy valentine's day!

“P-people are going to see, ‘Tsumu!”

“Not if you’re quiet. Hush.”

“Mmf- oh, oh!”

“I said shut up, baby girl, or you’re going to get caught full of cock and I don’t think you want that, do you?” Atsumu sniped at you, punctuating each word with a hard thrust of the hips. Your knees were by your head and your back against the bench rest, the back of your head knocking into the wall and further unfocusing you as his fat cock slid roughly and dutifully against your insides, doing far too much and disrupting your ability to keep your mouth shut.

“Mm-mmf, please, ‘Tsumu,” you panted as you struggled to focus your vision, your mind, anything at all. Your hands clawed at Atsumu’s back in some attempt to ground yourself. His insistent gripping on your plush thighs was not enough to keep you focused. You distantly registered the sound of a groan as the tension in your belly continued to build, Atsumu whispering broken praise in your ear as he used you to his leisure. His sweet nothings only fluttered your pussy further and you whined again, louder, desperate and wanting.

“Shh, or I’ll make you scream so loud the whole team will come watch,” he snarled, nipping your ear hard as his hips began to stutter. One, two, three hard thrusts later and he spilled in you with a moan, riding out his orgasm and burying himself in your warmth, trusting your diligent, pulsing pussy to milk him dry. Rubbing your clit, it took only seconds for your orgasm to follow, your pulsating, gummy walls sucking out every bit of seed he had to offer.

“Thanks, little miss,” he said cheerfully, pulling his cock out of your leaking hole and shoving it into your mouth for a quick clean, pushing into your throat a few times with a grunt to work off some of that pussy juice. It wouldn't do for their star setter to appear on the court a mess, after all. He grasped his member by the base, still mostly hard as he poked your mouth with the tip.

“Give me a kiss good luck, yeah? Good girl. I’ll see you after the match.”

masterlist

#*smut #*hq #*writing #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu smut #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x you #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya smut #Drabble #haikyuu smut #haikyuu drabbles #x reader smut #miya atsumu x you smut #miya atsumu x reader smut #atsumu x reader smut #atsumu x you smut #*nsfw #atsumu

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torubeth · 10 months

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when he comes back up from between your thighs for a breather, his eyes notice your clutched hands at your sides, nails digging into your palm and he wasn’t having it. leaning down to continue from where he left, he takes your hands in his and places it on his head, a gesture telling you to just pull his hair already.

or or or!!!!!!

he entwines your fingers with his, placing kisses on your wrist, your palm or wherever possible.

“fuck baby, you’re making me lose my goddamn mind”

that was the last thing he said before diving down between your thighs to resume his ministrations.

eren jaeger, suna rintarou, kuroo tetsurou, gojo satoru, miya atsumu, aki hayakawa, matsukawa issei (all characters aged up!)

#yours truly has officially graduated school #and she’s bored so this is the end result #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu timeskip #suna x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #eren smut #eren jeager smut #kuroo smut #aki hayakawa smut #csm smut #miya atsumu smut

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tojisprettywife · 1 month

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{note: i rewrote this, with b.s.t (hope someone gets the reference 🧍🏻‍♀️) anyway i cried, it got deleted first. i’m sleepy, hopefully it’s okay. minors DNI.}

warnings: smut. characters! m! x f! reader. characters are aged up to 21.

inexperienced men. who for the very first time feel, what a pussy feels like. your gummy, warm walls clenching around his throbbing cock. the way he clenches his jaw and gritting his teeth, to regain composure from cumming almost immediately. “f-fuck…so tight ..”. your pulsing soft walls suck his cock in, barely holding himself up. the way his soft, silky locks fall on your chest as he’s hunched over you. only gasps, curses and more whimpers slipping out of his lips. “so.. t—tight.. shit..”. pushing his full length into, till the base, gripping the plush of your hips, a bit too hard, in meek attempts to stop himself from painting your tight walls white. after what seems like forever, he slowly moves his hips, each stroke, sending shivers down his spine. he leans down to kiss you, again in attempts to keep him from moaning loud. he pushes his tongue into your mouth, his tongue lapping yours. but soon, the kissing gets sloppy, saliva dripping down both your chins. he leans down, burying his face into the crook of your neck. his teeth grazing the base of your neck, as his hips erratically, in haste buck against yours. the sound of his balls slapping against your ass, filling the room combined with his little whimpers and yours. “i-i’m cum-ming… f-fuck” he buries himself to the hilt, pushes himself even deeper, his tip bruising your cervix. his eyes squeezed shut, biting down your shoulder lightly. his cock, pumping ropes of milky, sticky cum. his cock twitching inside you, panting against your neck. just as he catches his breath, your walls convulse around his twitching cock, overstimulating. “o- fuckkk.. f..ck” barely able to form coherent sentences, slurring his words. burying his face into the pillow, beside your head, to stifle his moans. muffled moans, teary eyes as one hand gripped your waist tightly, bruising them lightly and the other hand gripping the sheets, crumpling them. his first feel of a vaginal orgasm. he presses soft kisses from your jawline to your neck, “it feels… so good.. one more time?.. please baby?..”. no longer will his hands suffice for him, as he felt what heaven feels like, you.

~ Choso Kamo, Gojo Satoru, Oikawa Toru, Nagi Seishiro, Inumaki Toge, Miya Atsumu, Naoya Zenin, Yuuji Itadori, Kageyama Tobio + whoever you want 😵‍💫

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kuroosdarling · 1 year

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‎♡‧₊˚ ꒰ FEATURING ꒱ virgin!atsumu

‎♡‧₊˚ ꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI !! virginity loss, unprotected sex, overstimulation, tsumu and reader fuck each other dumb oops

check out the others here !

"what did ya do to me?” atsumu gasps out, resting his forehead onto yours before he starts moving again.

he can’t help erratically rutting into you, feeling your slick walls coat his cock, driving him further into insanity. the constant pulses your cunt emitted pulls him in a haze, fucking his cum further into you. the way you squeeze him so tightly was going straight to his head, clouding his vision until all he could feel was you.

he never knew it could feel this good. it honestly felt better than any win on the court, higher than any high he’s ever had. something was coursing through his veins, egging him on to push himself as deep as he could into your warm, welcoming cunt.

once you showed him where the clit was, it was game over. he had surprised you, he was a natural. but then again, he was always good at striving to be the best.

and you were being so good for him, laying there and taking it, guiding him with your legs wrapped around his waist. but what else would he expect from his cute manager. the one who had welcomed him to the team with a sweet smile and constant reassurance. he didn’t realize he had gotten any special treatment from you until bokuto commented on it. that’s when he knew you might’ve liked him. and that’s when he decided to make his clumsy move.

it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cum or how he had already cum, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. he kept spilling into you while simultaneously spilling out all the feelings he’s kept locked inside. it was like a dam breaking, once it started it couldn’t stop.

“cant believe i’m the one that gets to fuck ya.” he moans in your ear, hips stuttering against you before finding his pace again. the room was filled with the sound of your bodies slapping together, his balls feverishly clapping against your ass.

he knew he sounded whiny — but he didn’t care. not when every fiber of his being was on fire, the amount of pleasure was overwhelming. the overstimulation was starting to bite at him but there was no way he could stop, even if he wanted to. absolutely addicted to the way your body melded with his.

“shit-” you gasp out, clawing more into his back. the sensation of you drawing small scratches into him brought him back down to reality for a moment, letting out a deep groan.

his eyes quickly found yours as he tried to assess if you were feeling as good as he was feeling. but judging by the way those breathy moans and whimpers of his name were flowing out of your mouth, he hoped he was doing a good job. but he needed you to say it.

“does it feel good? when i fuck ya like this?” he pants, leaving open mouth kisses along your throat. his words were laced with insecurity despite his cocky question, absolutely desperate to know the answer.

“feels so good ‘tsumu.” your words slur together. the nickname caught him off guard and pride swells in his chest, driving him to drive into you harder, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. the new position angled him deeper, and he knew he was a goner.

“fuck m’gonna cum again.” he panted out, driven by the need to fill you up more. he felt himself getting tired but he didn’t want to stop, not when you were babbling out for him. breathing wasn’t the priority right now, you were. tears pricked along his last line as his hips stuttered into you, trying to push himself all the way past your wall and lodge himself into your heart.

everything with blank for a moment, white filling his vision as he came in spurts, practically moaning out your name as he emptied himself into you. the way your walls were fluttering around him prolonged his orgasm and he could barely hold on, roughly gripping onto your waist as his lifeline.

but he wasn’t done.

after cumming twice already, overstimulation was ripping into him, the pain shooting directly into his tip. but the pleasure easily outweighed it. especially with the way your slick walls were clinging onto his cock, almost as desperate for him as he was for you. he knew he had another one left in him.

the two of you were drenched in sweat and who knows what else. but he had never seen you look more beautiful as you laid under him, pulling at him for more. his cock twitched at the sight, and he was more than ready to deliver what you both craved.

#⁺. ʚ now streaming:#ᥫ᭡ : cherry chaser chronicles #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #miya atsumu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyuu smut

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sluttsumu · 8 months

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☆ — ft. atsumu miya + getting leaked

warnings: 18+, tsumu being nasty

a/n: a little thought of mine, i can totally imagine msby being up in arms because there’s an “alleged” video out.

atsumu is a nightmare for msby’s pr team.

at this point no one is even surprised when there’s a new viral vid on twitter of him fucking you from behind or stuffing his face in your ass. the lewd photography the two of you take may never have your faces in them but, it’s definitely you two, everyones knows that.

he has no shame, and neither do his teammates. the most recent scandal was a video of him fucking you in the new pair of handcuffs that seemed to get everyone’s attention.

it was another ordinary day for him as he walked in the locker room to see everyone on their phones after practice. the air was tense and everyone was thinking the same thing, he knew that they’d seen it and they were wondering why he didn’t care.

kiyoomi was the first to break the silence, as expected.

“so….miya”

atsumu flips his towel over his shoulder not even sparing his friend a glance. “how many times did you cum from watching it?” he cockily chuckled leaving the rest of the locker room in awe.

“SO IT IS YOU” bokuto exclaimed before starting to laugh along side hinata.

“i have no idea what you’re talkin’ about bo-kun”

the devil was a liar, and so was atsumu miya.

despite lying to his team claiming that the video wasn’t his, he enjoyed toying with the curiosity of others.

sakusa muttered a small “tch” under his breath as he reached into his pocket for his phone.

the video started playing.

atsumu’s lips curl into a smile as he finally turns to face the rest of the locker room as sakusa holds his phone to the blondes face. “that’s literally your girlfriend, miya.”

experiencing it was one thing but watching it was something else. the 20 second video played over and over again of your face stuffed into the sheets as atsumu fucked you full of his cum, your muffled whining echoed throughout the room until sakusa finally turned his phone off.

“she sounds pretty doesn’t she?” he smirked.

everyone was guilty to getting off to you, and atsumu knew that, it simply boosted his pride.

grabbing his bag his walks to the door, but doesn’t leave until spewing condescending words just to keep his friends on their toes.

“knock yourselves out.”

the door closes behind him meanwhile everyone looks at each other confused before receiving a collective notification, to a google drive with all of your porn on it.

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ilylovelyz · 8 months

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⍣ ೋ the times they cried because of you

☆ includes ushijima, iwaizumi, atsumu, kageyama, bokuto

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — he never cries. you met this guy when the two of you were young freshman in high-school, and you quickly became a good friend of his. that being said, you never saw him cry. even when the two of you began dating in your senior year, you still never did. years passed, and it was the same as the previous years. sure, he occasionally got upset, but even then, he still put on a stoic display, never really letting you in on that side of him. even at your wedding, he sure showed some emotion but he didn't cry. then came the birth of your first child.

"she's so cute, isn't she 'toshi..?" you said weakly, forehead still damp with sweat, bodu trembling with the aftershocks of your hard, long labor. your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the sight of your dear wakatoshi holding your newborn baby.

your heart fluttered at the soft image of your husband holding the tiny baby closely again his chest, his forehead mere inches away from the baby's forehead. it was barely there, barely noticeable. if it weren't for the reflection of light, then you wouldn't have been able to see the way his eyes were glazed over, corners red, tears brimming at the borderlines of his eyes.

he was so memorized, so in love with this product of you, this product of his and your love. god, you just make him the happiest guy on earth.

with a grunt, he sniffled lightly, trying to mask his emotions. "yeah.."

IWAIZUMI HAJIME — he hates crying. but being the responsible and knowing person he is, he knows that crying is inevitable. but the "strong", reliable guy in him wants to punch himself every-time he feels his eyes sting at the feel of salty tears brimming at his waterline. unbeknownst to you, he would avoid you every-time he felt like he was going to cry, usually hiding in the locked confides of the bathroom. he thought he was hiding it well, until one fateful day where it all came crashing down..

"haji?" you said on the other side of the door. he immediately shot up, his eyes darting to the doorknob. he always made sure to lock it, but today, he was just so exhausted and down that the idea of a lock was forgotten. crap, "hey wait-," before he could even rise up from his slouched kneeling position on the bathtub's side, you opened the door unknowingly. "i just need my–hajime?"

there he was, in all of his fucking glory, hunched over, his face long and clearly expressing his hurt feelings. his heart fell to his stomach, his vision going cloudy as his day just kept getting worse. "hajime?" you called out once more, only your tone had softened, more light and tender. you reached a hand out to him, eyes full of concern. he couldn't help but jolt away from your hand, eyebrows furrowing at your softness.

he didn't like your tone. why are you looking at him like that? like some sad kicked puppy lost in the middle of nowhere? it made him feel so small, so weak. "haji.. are you okay?" you whispered, crouching down to his level outside of the bathtub. you attempted yet again to touch the side of his face, lightly pressing your fingertips against his cheekbone before fully pressing your palm against the side of his face.

his lips trembled as he was just a second away from breaking down, his eyes locked on a single object as to hold on to the last of his will. you sighed softly at his resistance, of course he wouldn't want to cry in front of you, but you don't understand why, afterall, what makes a person weak for crying? "it's okay, hajime."

with that, fat tears finally ran down his cheeks, his eyes shutting close as he finally broke at your words. he could only grab onto your hand as you climbed into the tub, his head going straight into your chest as he sobbed and wailed.

MIYA ATSUMU — surprisingly, you've seen this guy cry many of times before. he cried when getting accepted into nationals, winning nationals, just crying at things any normal person would do. but he never cried for you. no, he held himself to higher standards. he'd never cry for someone, not even for you. yeah, he loved you, but he wasn't about to cry for someone like a little child. all high and mighty, he never thought you would actually have an affect on him like you do now. him being someone who wears his heart proudly on his sleeve, he found himself getting into an argument late at night with you, too prideful to back down.

"are you serious atsumu?! you know i'd never do that!" you yelled, voice hoarse and scratchy due to the ongoing screaming match between you and your boyfriend. "oh really?! then why were ya' 'll over that fucker earlier? huh?!" he yelled back, pointing out the way you were seemingly flirting with a guy at the club earlier.

but you weren't? you would never do that, you're not a scum. "what?! we were just talking?! am i not allowed to TALK to people atsumu?" you scoffed, arms crossing defensively. "if you wanna consider talking as flirting, then let's talk about that girl you were laughing with the other day? huh? let's talk about that!"

his eyebrow raised at your counter, fumbling nervously as he wondered what to say. "w-wh- you know what?! fuck you! i don't know why i'm even dating a bitch like you!" he said, almost immediately regretting his words when he saw the way your eye's widened at his harsh words. the apartment was finally silent as you registered his words, he wishes you had any sort of expression on your face, but you had nothing but a stoic and emotionless face.

"okay then," you finally said, arching your eyebrow in a taunting way, resting your hand down on your hip. "bye." you followed, grabbing your bag and your keys, turning your back on him.

he watched, frozen in his spot as you exited out the apartment with your composure. his body jolted when he heard the slam of the front door, finally letting out that breath he was unknowingly holding. he scoffed at what you said, clenching his jaw tightly as he tried to hold onto his pride. "damn it." he said.

he felt the tear roll down his cheek before he could even register that he was crying. "..damn it!"

KAGEYAMA TOBIO — to him, life is volleyball. his childhood consisted nothing of volleyball, and so will his adulthood. maybe his obsession with volleyball was a little extreme, but you never really minded. he respected you greatly for your patience, he wasn't dumb, he knew that his priority of volleyball was evident, so he always tried to make it up to you by spending time with you whenever you wanted. but it seemed like after awhile, he began to take your patience for granted. it wasn't until the nth time when he didn't show up for the nth date was when he realized.

kageyama was careful to shut the front door as quiet as he could, tiptoeing as he took off his shoes and walked throughout the dark hallways and into the master-bedroom. he jolted like a cat when he sat you sitting up on the side of the bed, back facing the doorway.

"y-you scared me. what are you doing up at this time? it's nearly 10PM." he stuttered obliviously. it was silent for a few seconds before you sighed, slowly turning your head to face him. "you forgot." you muttered before turning back to look at the wall. forgot? forgot what? it was then he noticed the way your hair was done, still clad in a pretty dress.

"o-oh.. the date! i-i'm sorry y/n, i promise i can make it up to you"— "don't bother." you interrupted, voice stern yet monotonous. what do you mean 'don't bother?' you love going on dates don't you? his lips pursed into a straight line, chewing on his bottom lips nervously. "w-what do you mean? i really promise, this thursday i have a free day.." he trailed off when you suddenly stood up from the bed.

"i mean that i think we should break up." his heart dropped at your words, eyes widening. break up? his mouth was agape, mind spinning with different solutions and apologies. before he could detest, you walked over to the corner of the room, pulling up a suitcase that he didn't even notice.

"b-but why? you said yourself that me and you are meant to be together?" he cried out, quickly rushing over to your side and grabbing onto your wrist. he watched your face closely, eyes taking note of every single feature of yours. you inhaled deeply, still refusing to look at him.

"i said that when we were in high-school and didn't have any major responsibilities. things have changed, we aren't in high-school any more. you're now a pro-volleyball player with big responsibilities, and i'm.. someone who clearly has too much time on their hands, wasting it on someone who can't give me any of theirs. it's not your fault, kageyama, but we just don't align anymore."

you finally said, tugging your hand away from his grasp. before you could take a step, his hands were once again on you, gripped onto your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. "but.. you said you would be there for my game at nationals.." he whimpered out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

it was then, when you were finally walking out of his apartment, out of his life, was when he finally did realize, that maybe, he did take your patience for granted..

BOKUTO KOUTARO — this guy cries a lot. he's cried so many times you might have to start writing it down somewhere. he rarely masks his emotions, he's an open book. thats what you love so much about him, that he's so open and honest. you love the way he's so eager and sweet, you love the way he's always willing to talk to you and so damn clingy it's like you have your own personal koala. aside from the times he's happy, he's sad, sad because he didn't perform well, or because you didn't kiss him. but you never really made him cry, you'd never do that. or so you thought.

"y/n!! i missed you!" you hear a booming voice yell, his footsteps speeding up at the sight you. he paid no mind when you didn't respond to him, as you were currently hunched over the your work desk, laptop gleaming at you brightly. your back was turned to him, so you were basically calling him for a back hug.

"y/n!" — "not now koutaro." you interrupted, tone serious and stern. he raised his eyebrows at you with surprise, his arms a few inches away from your shoulders as they stilled in their preparation to hug you. "babe? is something wrong?" he asked curiously, lips pouting at your stern denial. you never decline a hug. you love them. right?

"i'm working. can't you see that?" you spit out, sighing deeply. you pull away your cramping fingers away from your keyboard, rubbing them over your sore eyes. "my gosh." you mumble under your breath, eyebrows intensely furrowed with stress. you had been working for a few hours straight, staring at nothing but a bright screen with words that were becoming incoherent to you.

you yelp out when you're suddenly pulled from your chair, being lifted up into bokuto's strong arms as he spins you around. "don't be so sad!" he says cheerfully, hoping to cheer you up with a big warm hug. only— this seems to make you mad. "put me down, koutaro!" you yell, pushing his chest away and forcing him to practically drop you.

"don't you see i'm working?! why are you so damn clingy? you're so annoying, god, why don't you just leave me alone?" you spit out. your words are like venom, stinging his heart greatly as his hair is quickly deflating once your words reach his ears. you simply return to your laptop once you've finished, typing mindlessly once more.

him? annoying? he didn't mean to annoy you..

he couldn't help but softly whimper, left standing in shock. he opened his mouth to say something before your previous words were reminding him to stay silent—leave me alone. he clutched his palms, looking at your turned back with teary eyes. he hopes you don't find him annoying for long..

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a-kaash-me-outside · 1 year

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the walls are thin - ch7

in which atsumu is your college neighbor with whom you share a wall. previous | ch7 | next [masterlist]

// really pretty, honest to god made for you ~ ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 8806 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni no longer eventual, the smut is here, angst clean-up, apologies, feelings and explanations, fruition, oral m!receive, deep-throating, oral f!receive, hard scratching, marking, light blood mention, come eating but probably different than ur thinking, fucking with feelings, afab she/her pronouns

join my taglist here!! ~~ (one more chapter left?!?!?! and an epilogue) ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

your first thought is that you need to go see him. you need to see him right now, but your body won’t move. seconds tick by and then minutes but you don’t let them turn into tens and fortys because there is a point of no return and you refuse to make it there.

still, there’s hesitation in every movement that you make towards seeing him.

your body feels like it’s drudging through cement, so much resistance as you swing your legs off the side of your bed and when your feet touch the floor, it somehow gets even harder. you’ve got a chain around your ankles and it’s connected to the weight of your relationship, dragging against your carpet, telling you that it’s do or die.

you’re thinking too much but not about the right things. you make sure that the door doesn’t make a single sound when it closes but you forget to lock it behind you. the hallway is too bright, too cold, an interim of purgatory. and there’s something pulling, pulling, pulling on your wrist, you can’t pick it up high enough to knock.

everything seems to be halting your movements, so many factors that are begging you to stop, that it’s not until you’re faced with this door, with this unknowing nameplate, that you start to wonder if you even should. you’re still not sure.

you’ve heard so many people leave atsumu’s room, but none like this, and not since you’ve been the one on the other side. before, you could count the steps, knew the timing to a T, but now you could see it. you could see her leaving, the walk from the bed to the door, could feel what it felt like to have to stop out of nowhere in the middle of something like that.

your fist is loose when it raps against the wood, shaky as it makes contact, and if you had a bit more room in your head for helpful thoughts, you’d be conscious of the fact that he could hear all of these emotions in the three contacts you’ve made with the door.

with all the time that it’s taken you to get here, you’d think you’d have thought of an entrance line at least by now, but you didn’t have much time to formulate one, mind flooded with one thing: what are you doing what are you doing what are you doing what are you doing.

but before you can say anything to him, he has to open the door first. you try to come up with something, anything to say to him, but you can only wonder how long you have until he opens the door, if he’s going to open the door at all. as the seconds tick by in time with your heartbeat, you realize that if he doesn’t open the door, you’re going to be standing out here until the end of time.

fortunately (or not), he doesn’t make you wait quite that long.

when he opens the door, you quickly understand that no amount of preparation and helpful thoughts could have resulted in this sight not taking your breath away. his hair is still perfectly neat, no shirt, an unzipped hoodie, and those fucking athletic shorts. a more perceptive you would’ve laughed at how full circle this feels.

but it is different from that night. his shoulders are slumped and he looks so conflicted and fuck, if all you wanted to do back then was to kiss him and make all of his cares go away, you don’t know what it is that you’re feeling now.

both of you knew why you were here and for some reason, that didn’t make it any easier. you open your mouth to speak, but your throat feels tight like your body won’t let you make this worse or better, like it’s punishing you for having any feelings at all. so you let out a breath instead, thankful that you’re at least able to do that.

he speaks first. the tone is light, much lighter than when you were standing in the hallway last time, so feathery soft that you almost accept it as an apology. his features have softened, no trace of booze anywhere, and he swallows before speaking, voice wavering only enough for you to catch it. “what do you want?”

this one’s easy. fuck, he makes it so easy.

“wanted to check on you,” you say, honest, but still as small as a few hours ago.

it’s quiet again and you’re terrified that this is all it’s going to be, that he’s going to shut the door in your face, but he just steps backwards into the room, leaving just enough room for you to take one step into his room, to cross the barrier. a wordless gesture that is messing with your head and your heart.

you step in.

and for a moment, a small moment before his next step backwards, you’re almost skin to skin with him again, you can feel the warmth radiating off of him, and when he does take another step backwards into the room, you follow again.

“are you okay?” you ask.

“are you?” he asks.

“don’t evade my question,” you say back, slight joking nature that fizzles out quickly.

he steps into his room completely, shutting the door, arm swinging over top of you. you stand right by the doorway, body forcing you to stay within arms length of the door just in case things go south again. he walks back into his room, not towards the bed, doesn’t even look in it’s direction, so he ends up standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“i’m fine,” he answers, and then repeats, less convinced, “i’m fine.”

there are a million more questions that you want to ask, but you’re trying to choose your words so carefully, going through branches of dialogue you could end up at, thinking way more than you ever have speaking to him before.

“are you sure?” you ask, arms behind your back, nails skimming over the tops of your fingertips.

he pauses, looks up at you from the floor, “seriously, yn, what are you doing here?”

“i told you, i came to check-,” you start.

he interrupts you, shaking his head, “no, like,” he lets out a huge sigh, running his fingers through his hair, “why are you here?” you’re silent. that’s what he just asked you, but your answer wasn’t appeasing enough. he’s silent too, because he’s trying to communicate something to you with these questions, but they’re just not coming out right.

“i fucked up,” he says, stronger now, but not like before, “so why are you here?”

your entire body feels like it’s being pricked with tiny needles, hands numb, throat dry. you’re convinced that you can’t move, but you do, nerves on autopilot as you move to close the gap between you and him, closer to atsumu than the door now. “why wouldn’t i be?” you ask, envy of the strength in his tone.

“because you’re good,” he says, eyes evading, “you’re really great, and i-” he takes a step back, “i was really shitty?” it comes out like a question, not one skeptic of whether or not he was shitty, but still wondering why you stayed.

“i was shitty too,” you offer back, not really knowing what else to say.

“no, you weren’t,” he says, frustrated huff separating the repetition, “you weren’t.” it’s quiet again and he takes another step back. “you never are. you crack jokes to make me feel better and you expect the best out of me because you always bring it out and even now, you’re standing here after i was the shittiest person in the world, asking me if i’m okay.”

you wait a beat. “are you?”

he lets out a breath, “i’m not sure.”

“that’s fair,” you reason, taking a few steps forward despite how much your body is telling you to stay put and all of the care you’ve taken for the words that you’re saying falls to the wayside, leaving space for these words to come out of your mouth, “i mean, at least it was hot while it was happening, definitely got me going until she left in the middle of it, who does that?”

it’s supposed to be a recollection of what he did to you, but you’re realizing only after the fact that it might just read as something really shitty that you’ve said. too far?

he laughs, catching your joke in stride because he knows you and because you know him and because of course he does, “yea, idiots, i don’t know.” he waits for you to fill the silence that comes after and when you don’t, he lets his care fall to the wayside as well, “or people that are asked to leave because the person that’s fucking them can’t stop thinking about someone else.”

silence.

“oh,” you say.

“yea,” he says.

silence.

“me?” you ask.

more silence, hesitation here.

“fuck it,” he says under his breath, but not enough so that you don’t catch it, “i mean, yea. it was basically for you anyway,” he answers.

“for me?” you ask.

you know all of these questions are redundant, you know them to be true in your heart of hearts, but you can’t stop them. you take a step closer to him.

“of course it was,” he says, “this time, last time, the time before that, when i’m alone, i just…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, passes you and sits down on the edge of his bed, puts his head in his hands, like he’s ruined everything just from this sentence.

but he certainly hasn’t ruined everything, not yet.

your heart threatens to leave your chest, knocking harder than your entrance to this conversation, and for once, the bed feels like it’s pulling you closer. you walk, slowly, but assured, until you’re right in front of him.

“thinking of me?” you ask.

he looks up at you, lips slightly parted, eyes that refuse to just settle on one spot, and you have to physically stop yourself from reaching out and resting your thumb against his throat to feel him swallow. you nudge his legs apart, step between them, both hands on his shoulders as you swing one leg over his knee.

“haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the day we got back from our date,” he says, tone changing, still remorseful, but more confident now, somehow just as syrupy sweet.

you lean down, your lips moving towards his quickly, but he stops you, cups your cheek with his hand, smooths his thumb over your jaw. a million emotions wash over you at once, namely fear and embarrassment and confusion.

“i think i was trying to fill the void of you all this time,” he explains, because he needs you to understand, can’t continue on without you knowing how sorry he is, “ever since i met you i’ve tried to bridge this gap to something more but i didn’t want to push any boundaries, wanted you to set the pace, but didn’t want to make you feel like i was expecting something, didn’t want to expect something, so i just kept on like i was.”

he continues, eye contact unwavering and you can see how hard it is for him to explain all of this to you, all of these feelings he’s been experiencing this entire semester, “flirting with you and being whatever we were while still being my old self? like that would change something or fix something or save me from something because every time i thought you might go along with the things i did, you didn’t.”

he rushes, “and that’s not an excuse,” he shakes his head softly, “i just didn’t want you to feel like i was making you do something you didn’t want to do, and flirting and meeting my friends was what you wanted to do so that’s what we did.”

“but you said that thing in the hallway to me and i was an asshole,” he says, this part evidently a bit harder to explain, much more recent, much harsher and deeper, “a really big asshole, because i didn’t want to explain all of this, didn’t want you to feel like i was expecting something from you, didn’t want to just admit that the reason i hadn’t slept with anyone else was because i was waiting for you, that- that,” he stutters, trying to find the right words.

“that since the moment i met you, all i needed was you,” he breathes, fingers curling against the side of your face softly, gently, and he keeps looking down at your lips. “and i’m really sorry it took me this long to just tell you that.”

you feel weak, knees buckling, grateful for his quick reaction, hands on your hips as you fall against his knee. you’re practically eye level with him now and for the second time in your relationship, he nearly kills you with the same single question, “can i?”

when you nod, there’s no more hesitation, because this is what he’s wanted since that night and you’re finally here in front of him again in a long t-shirt and underwear and nothing else and his fingertips are digging into your hips and they’re so soft even with the barrier of your shirt between your skin and his touch and he’s not going to let anything stop him this time.

he moves his hands so quickly, puts both of them on either side of your face and pulls you into a kiss, your first kiss. his lips are soft, so soft, and his kiss is needy and desperate like you’re the prettiest drop of water in a year long drought. he doesn’t keep his hands on your face for long, trades the pulling for pushing, sitting up into you as his hands move back to your body, to your waist.

they’re not roaming, not feeling you, just patient, allowing himself the pleasure that he’s wanted for months, just taking in the taste of your lips and the feeling of being close to you like this. he wants to remember everything about this moment, forgets everything he ever thought it was going to be, because it’s so much better than he ever could have imagined.

he tilts his head and you follow suit, and for how desperate this kiss is, he’s being disgustingly soft with you. you know that will change later, you’d stake your life on it, but right now, you can feel his chest rising and falling against yours and his lips are pressed against yours so sweetly, you’re going to get a toothache.

your hands are clasped behind his neck, fingers creeping to the base of his head, playing with the length of his hair with your fingertips. it’s so soft, the sensations so much. you can feel him between your legs, his hair in your hands, his lips against yours. he hasn’t even opened his mouth yet, hasn’t even fully tasted you, and he’s already decided that he will be yours forever if you let him.

when you open your mouth, let your tongue swipe against his bottom lip, he bucks up into you. you can feel his shaky breath against your now wet lips, the shakes perfectly mimicking the shivers that move down to your fingers and toes. your hands move up, into his hair, fingers curling around the locks, and you have to remember not to rush, to pace yourself, because you’re already getting overwhelmed.

you nip at his bottom lip, silently begging him for more, you want to kiss him more, sloppier, deeper, you want all of him.

he pulls away, your head following him as if it’s a mistake at first, but then letting him catch his breath. you begrudgingly welcome the time too, chest heaving as you’re apart. you almost scold him, but he speaks, pressing his forehead against yours, pulling you close to him. “i want to fuck you so fucking bad,” he says, and you’re not even embarrassed at the way you start to move to make that happen, but his grip stops you, “god, i want to fuck you so bad, but can i kiss you for a little longer first?”

holy fuck.

you nod vehemently, passionately, swallowing so hard that the mhm can’t even leave your throat. you tighten your grip in your hair, pulling him back towards you, that was enough, but he doesn’t seem to think so. “please, fuck,” he grunts, “if i just kiss you, promise me that i get to fuck you after.”

“i promise, yes,” you pull him into another small kiss and he lets you. you nod against his lips, “fuck, yes, tsumu, please.”

he kisses you again, harsh enough that you can still feel his lips on yours when he pulls away. “i’m not letting anything stop us this time,” he says and then presses his lips to yours before you have a chance to reply. instead, your reply comes as you kiss, nodding desperately, whining all the same. you slide your hands down his arms only for a moment, only long enough to push his hoodie off of his shoulders and throw it to the side, and then they’re back in his hair.

he doesn’t hold back now, diving his tongue into your mouth, running it over your teeth, slipping it against your own. you can taste him, you can breathe him, you can feel him. you grab onto his hairs, onto those pretty, soft strands and tug him backwards just enough so that you can make eye contact with him as he whimpers from the pressure before resuming quickly.

he leans back, mouth still pressed against yours, pulling you with him. your chest is leaning against his own, and he’s getting so far away from you that you have to crawl on the bed to keep your distance. he guides you up, hand on your ass to coax you along, your knee dipping into the soft mattress beside his hip. he places a strong hand on the back of your thigh, moving you so that your legs wrap around his waist, fully seated in his lap.

now, the only thing between your pussy and him are the thin fabric of your panties and the the thin fabric of his shorts and, fuck, you can feel everything. you can’t sit still, squirming as you try to concentrate on kissing him, on tasting him, on feeling his tongue mash against yours, on his teeth scraping against your lips.

but you can’t. you can’t focus on anything, not when you can feel how hard he is already. you’re painfully aware of his length, the heft against your clothed cunt, and the warmth radiating from between your legs. you feel like you’re on fire.

you pull away, using the grip in his hair that hasn’t moved to move him back as well. you look directly into his eyes, pupils blown wide. your gaze follows down his face, the flush on his cheeks, his lips sheened with the mixture of your spit and his. he’s looking up at you too, seeing the exact things. “if i don’t move from this position, i’m going to fuck you completely clothed, right here, right now,” you warn.

“fuck,” he breathes.

“and as hot as that would be,” you say, pushing yourself backwards until your feet can touch the ground again, moving so that both of your legs are situated between his instead of bracketing, “i’ve waited too damn long to not savor every fucking bit of this.”

he swallows harshly, nodding, eyes trained on you as you place both of your hands on the edge of the bed between his thighs. he watches you use them as leverage. his hands slide up your body as you sink down between his legs until they’re gripped into your shoulders. atsumu’s already filling in the next events in his head and you can see his hard length twitch against the constraining fabric of his shorts.

“besides,” you say, crawling your fingers onto the insides of his thighs until your palms are flat against the toned, flexed muscle. you dig your nails into his skin. “no way am i letting you fuck me without hearing the pretty sounds you make while you’re crammed down my throat.”

“oh fuck,” atsumu says, whimper following it.

“that’s the one,” you encourage. you push your palm into his thighs, paying close attention to the way his skin molds to your touch. you lean your head down, follow the paths you make with the harsh pressure of your fingertips with gentle kisses up his inner thighs. the further you get up his thighs, the more you’re enveloped by them. you migrate your hands to the outsides of his thighs, pushing them together, surrounding yourself with them.

maybe you weren’t so mad at the shorts anymore.

you push your palms up the muscle until they hook into the waistband, elastic tightly pressing your fingers into his hips. you let your touch linger there, preparing to free his cock, but not moving to do so, not yet. you pull your head up just enough to crawl forwards, stomach pressed flat against the edge of the bed as you nudge your nose against the hard outline of his cock. you look up at him, steal glimpses of how much anticipation is filling his wide eyes, how they follow your every move, how his lips part when you let your jaw drop open and lick up the length of his covered cock, how the sensation makes his eyes flutter shut and another pretty fucking whimper leave his throat.

“spent too long listening to other people try to make you sound like that,” you say, lips sliding up the outline of his hard cock, “‘ts my turn.” he nods at you, silently threading his fingers into your hair.

you lift your head, taking in how big he is just trapped in his shorts. you’ve thought about this moment repetitively, endlessly, more times than you can count, in more ways than you can count, and none of it could have prepared you for how turned on you get when you pull his cock out of his shorts.

it’s weighty in your hand, hot to the touch, makes a dull thump when it smacks against his stomach that will inhabit your brain forever, and you’re the one making pretty little whimpers now. one hand on his cock, you use your other hand, and his help, to pull off his shorts.

you slide your fist up his cock two times, just to get used to the length. your palm is flat against his hip, just the presence of it reminding him not to buck up into you and to let you do exactly what you want to do. your thumb swipes against his head, smears the beads of precome against the sensitive tip.

“don’t think it’s fair that i haven’t heard you make noises just for me,” you pout. and then you take him into your mouth.

the sound that tears from him is nothing like you’ve ever heard before and is something that you will never forget, really pretty, honest to god made for you. his fist gets tight in your hair and his thighs threaten to close, but you place both of your hands on the insides of them once again. you take him with only your mouth, swollen head first as you slip the tip of your tongue against his slit, smear the salty pre against your tongue, soft moan vibrating the tight ring of your lips.

then you let him sink deeper into your mouth, underside of his throbbing cock sliding against your tongue, taking it inch by inch into your mouth and into your throat. your jaw is starting to ache, he’s so fucking thick. you can feel him hit the back of your throat and you still have so much to take.

you could move your hands from his thighs, wrap one fist around the base of his cock, move your mouth up and down his cock with the supplement of your palm, but that’s not enough. you know what he wants. you’re going to give him what he wants. you need to be choking on it, gagging, spit drooling down your chin and onto the sheets below you. it has to fill your throat so full that you can see the imprint in your neck. he’s still whimpering, but you need more, need it to fill the room incessantly. you need him to be just as breathless as you.

you press your face down further, forcing his cock down your throat farther. there are tears in your eyes now from the stretch of your jaw and your lips. your body convulses as the fullness of your throat causes you to gag and you can’t catch a good breath to center yourself, but you claw your fingernails into his thighs and swallow around him.

“fuck- holy fuck- you-,” he breathes, sitting up on his forearms, “ya don’t-” he can’t even fucking speak, “yn, fuck, ya don’t-” he shudders, “don’t have to-” he grunts, bucking up into your throat as he finishes the sentence in his head, “take me that deep.”

yes you fucking do.

you push your head down deeper, throat filled with his cock. now you really can’t breathe, can’t think, but you’ve almost taken his huge fucking cock completely down your throat and you’re not stopping until your nose is pressed against his stomach. as soon as the tip of your nose meets some sort of resistance, you pull off of him, gasping for air as you do. he’s about to praise you, to offer some sort of gratitude or awe, but you don’t let him speak, returning right back to where you were before, cramming him down your throat.

“shit,” he hisses as you take him completely. his hand is shaking in your hair, not that you can really focus on that, though it is easier the second time around. you can feel how open your throat is as you lift your head, tight muscle squeezing his cock so good as you deepthroat him. “fuck, i-,” he says, “can’t take it.”

you look up at him as best you can with how full your throat is and how teary-eyed you are. “christ,” he mutters, “jesus fucking christ can i fuck yer throat please just a few times fuck no one’s ever taken me this deep please” it comes out as basically one string of words. you answer by placing your hands on his hips, stilling your head and then lifting them to meet your lips. “fuck.”

he follows the movements you’ve started for him, lifting his hips to fuck into your throat, going as deep as you managed to go. he slides his cock nearly the entire way out of your mouth, the only thing left is his swollen head, and then he rams back into your throat. your eyes squeeze tight as he repeats his motion a few more times. the sounds that he makes are payment enough, cry after cry of pleasure ripping from his throat as he destroys yours.

when he pulls your head off his cock to the tip for the last time, he doesn’t pull you all the way off. instead, he lets both of his arms drop, falling back onto the soft bed. your hands slide up his thighs, past his hip bones, fingers spanning across his glistening stomach. you finish the motion, feel his abs tense in your hands as you swallow him one last time and then pull off for good.

from this position, you get to watch his chest rise and fall as you catch your own breath. he sits up in just enough time to watch you wipe the mixture of spit and precome from your chin. it’s enough for him to need to lie back down again, a soft swear falling from his lips as he reaches for you without looking, grabbing at your arm to pull you on top of him. both of your legs are on either side of his hips, a very familiar position except now there are no shorts trapping his cock.

he sits up, bracing you with one arm as he turns the both of you, spinning until his head is on his pillow. his hands root on your hips, fingers digging into your skin, holding you in place as he drags his cock against the outside of your wet panties. “y’know,” he breathes, not looking up at you, but at the long t-shirt covering his view. “ya owe me a new pillowcase.”

your face burns. you’re way more clothed than he is and yet you feel so exposed. you know that he knew, or, rather, you thought that he knew, but him saying it to you right now makes you feel so fucking filthy.

he reacts to your change in expression, smirk taking place on his lips and a breathy laugh that comes along with it. he holds you as he lifts off the bed, steady as he flips you over so that you’re underneath him, so that you’re on top of the pillow. “‘ts still dirty,” he nods past you, “just like ya left it.” you whimper.

he pushes backward, falling between your legs as he asks, “are ya gonna admit it?” you swallow harshly, barely paying attention to his words when he’s getting so close to your pussy. “didya make a mess on my pillow?” he asks.

atsumu doesn’t wait for an answer, moving your panties to the side, the cool air against your drenched lips evidence of that. when your mind catches back up to you, you nod, constantly, as if to make up for all of the hesitance. “what were ya thinkin bout?” he asks, mouth open, tongue out.

“this,” you profess.

the words barely leave his mouth before they’re muffled by your puffy lips. “good girl.” you can feel his lips curl into a smile as they’re pressed against you, tongue diving into your clenching hole, swirling around the rim. your hands find his hair again, your favorite place to ground yourself. oh my god leaving you a million times in succession.

he pulls away only enough for you to make out the words, but not far enough so that you can’t feel them on your cunt, “tell me more, pretty.” you don’t have any direction, too much on your mind, you don’t know what he wants or what to say, so you just whimper helplessly as he sucks your swollen clit into his mouth.

“this what ya imagined? the pillow as my face?” he asks into you, tongue licking up your slit over and over and over, curling it at the end to flick against your sensitive clit.

“yes, just like this,” you groan, hips circling once against his tongue as you remember that night and how desperate you were.

he pushes his head into your hands, “again.”

you listen, fists tightening in his soft hair, thrusting your hips up this time to get more pressure against his tongue. you roll your hips slowly, feeling every tiny bit of his tongue against your clit. your cunt is aching, hips getting less and less slow as the tightness in your core builds. “thought,” you huff, “thought about this, came so many times on your pillow just thinking about you sleeping on it.” if you were any less turned on, these words would be nothing but embarrassment right now.

luckily for you (and for atsumu), you’re never felt hotter.

“more,” he commands, scraping his teeth against your clit, sucking your lips into his mouth, making a fucking mess of you, and you haven’t even lost an article of clothes yet.

there are no rests between the movements of your hips now, repeatedly thrusting against his open mouth, “you too,” you breathe, “you made-” huff “a mess too.” you can see him still for only a moment before resuming. “‘ts still dirty, isn’t it?” you ask.

his mouth is still on your cunt, but he’s looking up at you now, wants to see where you’re going with this when he hums an affirmation. you grab the pillow from behind you, letting your head fall onto the flatter one below. your eyes scan the fabric and you see it, the small stains on top of your big stain and you know that he can feel your pussy fucking throb when you do.

“shit,” he grunts, thrusting his cock against the mattress, moaning into your cunt as he watches you bite onto the fabric, spit drooling down the sides of your mouth as you lave your tongue over the dark stain repetitively. it doesn’t taste like much, like fabric softener and a little bitter, but when you close your eyes you can see him coming against the pillowcase and-

“fuck,” you grunt, pillow thrown to the side as you put your hands back into atsumu’s hair, fists so tight that your knuckles are turning white. your core is tight, face is hot, legs are shaking against his cheeks, “holy fuck. ‘m coming, fuck, fuck,” you announce as you flood against his tongue. he digs out the come with his long tongue, swallows it until there’s nothing left but his spit.

he doesn’t even give you a second to breathe, doesn’t give you the same luxury that you gave him, a few seconds to recuperate before moving on, but you get it. you understand, because despite the fact that you could close your eyes and fall asleep right now because of how spent you already are, you know what’s coming next.

he sits up on his knees, allows himself to take in the sight of you for a few seconds, and then moves to the edge of the mattress again. he offers you his hand and you take it. you’re pulled across the span of the bed until you’re at the edge as well. “can ya stand for me, pretty?” he asks.

you nod, stepping off the side of the bed and facing him again. you’re in the same position that you were before he laid you on the bed, standing with your legs bracketing one of his knees. if you were expected to stand completely on your own, you would have denied your ability, but atsumu is doing most of the work, holding you up.

in fact, he takes it a step further, leaning back a few inches, grabbing you by the ass and placing one of your knees onto the bed next to his hip. he moves his hips closer to you, grabs the base of his cock and smacks the underside of it against your panties. “yer really fuckin’ dirty, didjya know that?” he asks, leaning in to kiss you again, his accent thick against your tongue.

you nod, “yeah, but it never hurts to be told just how much.”

he scoffs, nudging your chin to the side, exposing your neck and sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin. you whine at the contact, pressing your neck into him, wanting to feel it harder. he thrusts his cock up against your clothed cunt again, forearms tense as he holds your hips perfectly still. he kisses down to your collarbones, running his teeth along them, sloppily licking the dips and hills of your chest.

“gonna fuck ya so fuckin’ good tonight ya won’t be able to fuckin’ walk tomorrow, yea?” he asks, kissing your chest. he pulls your shirt off with one hand in one fluid motion and immediately attacks your tits with his mouth, capturing one of your nipples between his teeth, laving his tongue over the sensitive bud repetitively.

“you’ll be here with me in the morning and you’ll be so sore ya can’t get out of bed and walk to yer room so i’ll fuck ya again, slowly but even fuckin harder. yer gonna have to limp back to yer room because fuck i just can’t resist pounding ya so fuckin hard.” your mind is spinning, mouth feels dry, because he’s telling you everything you’ve ever wanted to hear and you just nod over and over again, whimpering with plea.

if he kept talking to you just like this, you could come just from the contact of his hard cock against your panties, because he’s talking to you, telling you exactly what he’s wanted to say and he’s saying it directly to you. the words are low. he’s not screaming like before. they’re quiet and against your skin and you can feel every one.

they’re meant just for you.

he hasn’t even started fucking you yet but the fabric between you is so thin and you can feel how much his cock is leaking even with how wet you are and your pussy is still a fucking mess and the friction feels so fucking good and it’s so fucking warm and your hands are in his hair again and you’re grinding down onto him and you’re moaning into his ear and he’s biting and nipping at every place he can reach.

you circle your hips to meet his grind and you speak so softly that it could’ve brought him to tears, “gonna cum, tsumu.” you close your eyes, let your cheek fall against the top of his head as you stroke his hair, circling your hips gently as you ride this soft high just from this friction and being here with him.

“fuck, good girl,” he praises, looking up and pressing a kiss into the side of your face. you feel his hand move to your panties, his knuckles slipping against your puffy lips as he slips them to the side, lifting his hips until his cock catches against your clit and then pulling them back to follow your slit to your hole.

he slides inside of you without so much as a breath and you fucking see stars. he’s so big. he’s so fucking big. he’ssofuckingbig. so big so big sobigsobigsobig. he’s literally so fucking big, you feel like you’re splitting apart. he didn’t feel this big in your throat. you don’t remember him feeling this big in your throat and he’s biting down on your shoulder and kissing it as he pulls you down, seated perfectly on his cock.

“fuck, figured i should let ya get adjusted-,” he breathes, voice so fucking shaky, forehead pressed against your shoulder, eyes squeezed shut, “‘m not sure ya woulda been able to handle it if i just laid ya down and railed ya right now.”

you shake your head no. you can feel him in your fucking stomach, can feel every inch, every vein, every throb, every twitch against your choking walls, they were made for him, he was made for you. “couldn’t,” is all you can manage to squeak out.

“‘ts alright, doll, i couldn’t either,” he says, shaking his head against your shoulder, “not when yer this fuckin’ tight, squeezing my cock, fuck.” he stays still for a moment, lets you both get acquainted to this new sensation, at how full you’re feeling and how warm he’s feeling. when he starts moving, it’s slow, so fucking slow. you can feel every massive fucking inch enter you and pull out of you. “swear to god, ‘m not even fuckin’ ya, yer just sucking me in yer so fuckin’ tight.” god, there’s that fucking accent.

he flips you over in one motion, does it without even taking his cock out of you. he’s hovering over top of you now, stood between your legs, cock buried deep inside of you. one hand on your hip, the other hand on your stomach, he pulls almost all the way out. he doesn’t use his hand to guide himself back in, lets the tightness of your cunt keep him from slipping out of your messy hole. the fucks are shallow, just his sensitive head.

the mushroom tip keeps slipping in and out of you, but it never falls completely out. his grunts and moans and shaky forearms proving how fucking good you feel around him. “deeper, now, tsumu?” you ask, hand on his forearm to get his attention. well, he certainly can’t deny that.

he pushes his hips forward slowly, agonizing seconds until you’re full once again and fuck you missed not being able to breathe. this isn’t him letting you get adjusted again, this is him starting to fuck you. your cunt is quivering around him, walls fluttering, enticing him in deeper every time he slowly pulls out.

and then he gets faster, sliding his cock in and out of you so quickly that you can’t even get a grasp on how big he really is, it feels neverending. you’re nodding, not really sure for what, and your throat is getting tight and you can’t stop swallowing harshly. you’re already so fucking close.

“closer, please, tsumu, closer,” you say to him, reaching for him, and he listens immediately, pressing his chest against yours. he’s so big that you can’t fucking breathe, can’t control yourself. your nails scratch down his back, clawing at whatever you can reach, not light traces, but breaking skin, tiny beads of blood being smeared by your fingertips pushing back to the top again. “m sorry, fuck, m sorry, can’t.”

“don’t apologize,” he says, shaking his head, and you’re amazed at the fact that he can still speak right now with how fast he’s pistoning into you right now. he’s abusing your pretty little cunt so hard, stomach smacking against your clit, hips slapping the inside of your thighs, whole body already sore, you can tell when you try to adjust your hips to get him inside of your guts deeper. “you can go harder if ya need to.”

you nod against him, tears streaming down your face because you don’t know how else your body is supposed to deal with what’s happening right now, with how much it’s feeling and how good he’s treating it. you listen to him, dragging your fingernails down his back again and again. “gonna come,” you sob, “gonna- fuck.” you can’t stop crying. you stop clawing at his back, wrapping your arms around him, smearing the blood against your forearms and down his back, holding him as close as you can and this somehow doesn’t mess up his harsh rhythm.

the next words out of your mouth do mess up his rhythm, though. “baby, gonna come, baby, you’re gonna make me come, feel so good, baby, fuck.” his hips stutter, arms shake overtop of you, collapsing and caging you in even more. you don’t mind one bit. it takes every ounce of self control for him not to either blow his load inside of you or pull out. he’s not ready to do either one.

when you come around him, you get impossibly tighter, gummy walls choking his thick cock, fluttering as you ride out the best orgasm of your life. by the time you come down from your high, cunt relaxing around his cock, atsumu had almost convinced himself that your walls were always that tight, it felt so long.

atsumu pulls his cock out of you slowly, letting you feel every inch that you clenched around. when he looks down at his cock, he has to applaud himself for his self control again, because, “holy fuck, doll, made my cock so creamy, fuck,” he says, not even trying to hide how much the sight is effecting him. he can’t take his eyes off of it. he reaches down, spreading your lips as best he can so that he can see your tight hole wrapped around his cock and the creamy come you’ve left all down the length.

your legs feel like jelly, mind just the same, but it comes out of your mouth anyway. “over,” you almost slur. you’re not exactly sure if it’s the best idea considering how weak you feel, but you need it, need to see him beneath you.

“hm?” he asks for clarification, not stopping or tearing his eyes away from the mess you made on his cock.

“flip m’ over,” you say more clearly.

he listens, pulling you on top of him as he lies down on the bed. your knees are on either side of his hips, softly pressed into the mattress below and it feels like you were as deep as you could get before, but there’s more of him to take in this position. you fall onto him, seated completely on his cock in one motion, a tiny moan escaping you.

you place your hands on his chest for leverage as you lift yourself up the tiniest bit on his cock. he lets you take control, lets your fingers curl against his sternum and slide down to his stomach as you move a bit faster. it’s nothing compared to his speed. it’s not as controlled, not as fast, not as harsh, but it’s deeper and it’s you.

“does it feel good?” you ask, just wanting to hear him sing again.

he nods, whimpering and bucking his hips to meet you on instinct as he hears your voice. you lean your weight into your wrists, he can feel it all on his sternum. the pressure is incredible, like he couldn’t take control if he wanted to right now. you slide up and down his cock at your own pace, his hips barely moving now as he starts to realize how perfect this all is, how perfect you are.

“what do you want?” you ask.

he knows exactly what he wants and he’s only slightly embarrassed to ask for it. “say it again,” he mumbles.

“say what?” you cock your head, lifting off of him and slowly taking him all again.

“called me baby,” he says, out of breath, staring up at you like you’re the only person he’s ever felt truly comfortable with and your stomach is filled with lightness, heart is filled with love.

you push off of the bed again, your legs exhausted, but you’re going to milk every last drop of come out of him until he can’t give you anything else. as soon as you’ve fallen back down, you lift off again, almost completely, hole tight around the sensitive underside of his head. “fuck, baby,” you say, voice like heaps of sugar, “need you to do one last thing for me.” you push your hand across his chest, palms smoothing over his tits, back arching to meet your touch.

“anything,” he says, and you believe it.

you lean down, forearms resting on his shoulders, hands in his hair, circling your hips quickly now, clenching yourself around him, “can you fill me up, baby,” you ask.

“oh god,” he says, shaking his head against the pillow. you were about to ruin him.

you can feel him twitching inside of you, his balls tightening against your ass, but you’re not done. you’re going to wreck him. “drain inside me, baby, need it, need all of it,” you whine, taking him faster, harder, harsher, deeper. “deep inside, need my baby to come deep inside,” you say. you can already feel him pulsing inside of you, his hips lifting off the bed trying to chase his imminent high. “stuff me full of your load, so much until i can taste it,” you whisper into his ear. “make me yours.”

his grip on your hips will leave bruises. honestly, you’re convinced they might already be forming, blooming under his current death grip. his come is forceful, plentiful, ropes of thick come making you feel fuller than you already do, when you look down, you’re half expecting to see him in your stomach, you’re that fucking full.

you can match each grunt with each release, each stream of hot come that paints the insides of your walls. he’s doing exactly what you asked of him, stuffing you full of his hot fucking load. you reach down, gathering the drooling come that’s already leaking out of you on your fingers and shoving them in your mouth. when atsumu sees this, you can feel another rope of come fill you and then one more until his soft grunts no longer make you feel any fuller.

you don’t move immediately. you want to be this full for the rest of your life. the time has slowed down, the desires are lowering, each second that ticks by is closer to him throwing you out of his room like all of his other hookups. you close your eyes, count the seconds, know when you should be walking to the door and getting dressed, but every time you surpass a self-proclaimed time limit, nothing happens.

instead, he wraps his arms around your lower back and sits up with you on his thighs. “can i-,” he says, sheepish, like he’s embarrassed to even ask. his tone is making your stomach fill with butterflies. “can i watch it drool out of you?” your breath gets caught in your throat, but you nod at him regardless.

he pulls you to the edge of the bed and slowly, so slowly, pulls out. when he does, he sinks to the ground, spreading open your sloppy lips with his thumbs and watches a fat glob of come drip out of you. neither you nor him really know if it’s instinct or need that drives it, but he leans forward and tongue out, and drags the flat of it in between your lips. “fuck, baby,” you say, in awe, because it doesn’t matter what drove him to do it, you want to watch him do it a million times.

he slips two fingers inside of you, coaxes out more of the mess he’s made, and smears it against your pretty swollen clit. there’s still more of his load inside of you and he watches it drip down your leg and onto his sheets. he can’t stop staring, mesmerized. when he meets your eyes again, he mumbles, a blushing mess, “i’ve never done that before.”

“just figuring out really hot kinks or what?” you ask, finally able to catch your breath.

he shakes his head. “no, it’s just you,” he says, more confident in this admittance, “needed to see it so i knew it was real and not just a dream or something later.”

maybe you didn’t know when the timer started. maybe it started after that, started now instead. you’re waiting for him to make you leave, you ready yourself, count the seconds once more, but in the midst of your countdown, he smooths his hand over your hair and stands up.

before he even crawls into bed, he helps you get comfortable first. he moves you so that your head is on his remaining pillow. he grabs one of the smaller ones and offers it to you as well. the covers are a mess with the two of you, but thankfully hopefully just on the outside. he pulls the blankets over you and then immediately gets under them with you.

you’ve lost count in your head, but the timer would be over by now, someone else would have been gone by now, but not you. you’re facing him and he’s facing you, and both of you are exhausted, but neither of you want to give up this view right now.

“you should get some sleep,” he offers.

“hey, where did that accent go?” you quirk an eyebrow.

he shakes his head, “wouldn’t you like to know.” he extends his hand out, wraps it around your waist, pulls you closer to him until your head is resting against his chest.

“yea, that’s why i asked,” you joke back, letting your eyes close. he tightens his grip around your waist.

“hey,” he says, clearing his throat, “thanks for coming to check on me.”

you hum, nuzzling into him closer. sleep is taking you, dragging you kicking and screaming despite how much you want to stay up and have this conversation. “of course,” you mumble. “we will have this conversation tomorrow, i promise, baby.”

he holds you tighter. “that whole baby thing is dangerous,” he admits to you.

“you shouldn’t have admitted that to me,” you say, shaking your head as you try to get even closer to him.

“i will accept the consequences if i get to hear it any day,” he admits again. his eyelids are getting impossibly heavy as well now, barely able to keep them open, drifting in and out of consciousness. “goodnight, yn.”

“goodnight, baby,” you reply. you’re surrounded by warmth. you feel like you’re right where you belong.

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