#atsumu oneshot

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

──➤ Atsumu Miya sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

the author sent a letter :
❝dear reader,

first and foremost, i’m terribly sorry for being inactive— university and entrance exams are choking me in the least kinky way possible. so, in order to make myself forgiven, i shall deliver you a sinful atsumu letter.

sealed with a kiss,
nikki.

P.S:sending tons of love to @newfriendjen​ for taking some of her precious type to beta-read this letter, thank you so much once again, you’re an angel!❞

──➤Prompt used : A letter inspired by the song “Maneater” by Nelly Furtado— as Atsumu comes back from a volleyball-related trip, he’s greeted by the most enticing sight : yourself, on the bed, wearing the set of lingerie he had specifically bought for you. Atsumu knows he has you all to himself, or so he thinks? A battle for dominance caught between two lovers with prideful hearts.
─➤Genre :Smut.
➤Warnings : MINORS DO NOT READ THIS, 18+ ONLY. Switch reader and switch Atsumu, sexual intercourse, cunnilingus, cursing, degradation (both reader and Atsumu), overstimulation, daddy kink, mistress kink, vaginal penetration. 

There are three rules to being a man-eater : make them spend hard, make them fall on their knees and make them fall real hard in love.

The first rule came natural, a flick of your hair accompanied by a sensually calculated flutter of your eyelashes was enough to make him bend under your charms, as if the requests leaving your lips had been laced with a spell rendering him unable to deny your demand. After all, Atsumu Miya would give you anything on a silver plate and more if it meant he could hear you say his name. He was particularly fond of the way you’d drag the last syllable of his name with the pad of your thumb gracing your lower lip, giving you the grandeur of a faux innocent façade, it was this meticulous marriage of faux innocence and lust that would, each time, sign his own end.

And yet again, he had dived head first into the abyss of your charms— not that he ever regretted it, the grin on your face and the gleam shining in the corner of your irises was the greatest reward he could have ever possibly asked for. 

Atsumu had come home from yet another trip, a volleyball-related trip that is. He had the thoughtful habit of sending you different kinds of presents while he was away, hoping that the presence of these gifts would make up for the lack of his own presence. There was always a note attached to each package, if it was lingerie he often wrote something along the lines of how he’d wish time would fly faster so he could bask in the glory of your body, take mental pictures of how the red of the lace embraced your body so divinely well that he was convinced you were a muse  taken from a renaissance painting who had come to life.

Whenever he’d come home, his first reflex was always to head straight to his room— because he was positive that he’d find you there either way.

And bingo. There you were, clothed in the latest set of lingerie he had sent you while he was abroad. Atsumu had an idea of how said set would look on you from the pictures he had seen online, but never did he once think that it would look that good. After all, you always exceeded his expectations. 

A set so sophisticated, he had picked a black set this time (surely because his subconscious associated the color to the color of the Black Jackals and it was enough to send a rush of blood downwards at the thought of it) and, much to his pleasure, it left so little to the imagination. The fabric covering your breasts was transparent if it wasn’t for the embroidered flowers right above your nipples. Unbeknownst to him, Atsumu’s gaze had been stuck on the way your buds were peaking through the fabric whilst the back of his mind already imagined scenarios where he’d let his mouth would latch onto your breast to earn some of the moans he knew all too well but could never get enough of.

His throat tightened a bit when his eyes went south— the panties matched the bra, albeit the presence of the flowers were missing this time, allowing him to drink in the sight of your core already glistening with lust. He hadn’t missed the way you were seated on the edge of his bed either, legs already spread apart like a silent invitation for him to let those thoughts that would make a demon blush be set free, or the way your back was paying homage to a crescent moon from how arched it was. Fuck. 

« You like what you see, baby? » The words left your lips in a suggestive tone.

He blinked once, then twice, to set himself free from the torment of his thoughts. « Is this all for me? » He questioned, taking a few steps forward to reduce the space between the both of you. 

Alas, he was stopped by the red sole of the heels (courtesy of the expertise of Louboutin) planted on his lower abs. « What do you think you’re doing? On your knees. »

« Wh-… On my knees? » The smirk plastered across his facial features had fallen low into a look of disbelief. 

« Didn’t you get in the first time? On your knees. Now. » You repeated, the imperative tone of your voice becoming clearer. 

The second rule to being a man-eater was to make them fall on their knees.

He sunk down to his knees as told, his eyesight facing directly your clothed core he so badly wanted to have a taste of. Your taste was like an addiction, not that he was interested in finding some kind of antidote anyways. Atsumu didn’t even notice the way his tongue was swiping across his lower lip in anticipation for the future sinful deeds he was bound to do.

Seeing he was stuck in a daze of lust, you just had to earn his attention back. How dare he not pay attention to you? With the help of your index and middle finger, you began to stroke your clothed core in vertical motions, a slow and methodic pattern to entice him even more and make him sink even more into an abyss of dark thoughts.

« Do you want it? Do you want to eat me out, mhm? » You half-questioned, already knowing the answer to your question was going to be positive.

Although he thought it was impossible, his throat tightened even more, the constriction of lust preventing him from forming any kind of a sentence, hence why he nodded instead of ridiculing himself with broken words.

« Cat’s got your tongue? » 

« Lemme’ eat you out, please. » He replied after gathering enough strength to form a ‘normal’ sentence.

« Please who? » You demanded, leaning forwards to cradle his jaw.

« Fuck… Please mistress. » The words sounded so bitter, the price to pay to reach nirvana.

The way you had leaned back, propped on your elbows to obtain some kind of leverage, was a silent way to invite him to get a taste of yourself. Both of his palms roamed on the plush flesh of your thighs caging him into the sweetest hold, until his fingers reached the bands on the side of the panties which had been lingering on his mind more than he’d ever admit. Controlled by his unquenchable thirst to let his tastebuds be blessed by the sweet taste of your juices, Atsumu used his strength for good measure by ripping the fabric apart— a distinct testimony of the hunger casting a dark cloud over his irises.

And at this very moment, right when the fabric of your panties fell into an abyss of oblivion, Atsumu knew that the gates of heaven had finally opened up to him— his orbs were frenetic, trying to catch a glimpse of each centimeter of your body awaiting to be cherished by his lips and worshipped by his tongue, and you could’ve sworn his pupils had dilated when his gaze landed on your core, glistening in all of its lustful glory.

« You like what you see, don’t you? » You teased, knowing damn well the answer was written all over his face.

« I love it, I fuckin’ love it, mistress. » Atsumu answered, the desire to get a taste of you almost burning him alive.

You couldn’t help but smile at his awful lack of self-control, but oh well, at least he had the benefit of having tried… But was trying ever really enough? Your palm fell flat on his cranium, digits tangling with his bleached blonde locks that could rival the brightest rays of sunshine. « Go ahead… You have my permission. »

Those were the words Atsumu had been waiting to hear ever since he stepped foot in his bedroom, the words that triggered another wave of hunger in the pit of his stomach— in fact, said words had triggered the beginning of the end for him. And worst of all, he was aware of his own fatalist fate.

In a flash, the not-so foreign sensation of Atsumu’s mouth paving a trail of forbidden kisses from your inner thighs to your core awakened chills that ran down your spine. And there it was— the absolute devotion of his body to yours. He knew this was no place for teasing, the word reigning supreme here was ‘pleasure’, and he couldn’t allow to break the rules and not give his mistress what she desired, correct?

Like a man starved who was bound to eat his very last meal on Earth, Atsumu jumped head-first into a pool of lust and flattened his tongue to draw a long and fat lick of your core that would, for sure, coat all of his tastebuds with your taste. Fuck, this was heaven on Earth. He used his index and middle finger to spread your folds, thus obtaining a better view of your core and a clearer path to execute away the ministrations that would make a demon blush.

Kitten licks collecting any bits of remaining juice, sucking motions on your oh so sweet bundle of nerves that would be the key to your future orgasms, shoving his tongue directly into your hole that was clenching each time the tip of his tongue graced your inside— wasn’t he being such a sweet boy?

But it seems Atsumu had pulled out a fifth ace out of his sleeve when the same two digits that were spreading your folds open had taken a dive south to meet your core. He was getting drunk on the sight of seeing his fingers disappearing, inch by inch, into your hole that was clenching around him, a testimony of pleasure that was as clear as day.

Your back arched once more like the curve of a moon shining amidst a constellation, an iron grip maintained Atsumu in place and, at times, moved him a bit around when he was hitting that sweet spot that would make you cry out in pleasure. « Fuck, Atsumu! Nghh, right here, oh fuck, here! » 

And so he did as told— he pumped his fingers in and out of your core and let his tongue flicker some more over your bundle of nerves with a newfound purpose, the most lustful yet most rewarding one of them all, making you come undone. 

It wasn’t your first shared rodeo, and after quite a handful of experiences, Atsumu had gained enough knowledge to know when your body was about to give in to the sins of pleasure. He analyzed everything, knowing like the back of his hand how your moans would gain a higher pitch, how your hold on his hair would tighten more and more and how your breathing was gradually becoming more irregular. « Fuck, fuck— ah, fuck! I’m gonna, ‘gonna c-cum! »

And before the words had fully left your mouth, you were hit with ceaseless waves of pleasure that washed all over you, sending you into a state of pure bliss where you could discern stars behind your closed lid, much to Atsumu’s greatest pleasure. The latter hadn’t missed a bit, and as soon as the first drops of the awaited elixir of pleasure had poured from your clenching core, his tongue was quick to lick your entire cunt clean— he wasn’t the one to waste your sweet cum, after all. 

Atsumu could’ve sworn that he could’ve come undone from the taste of your cum only, and the crimson shade of the tip of his cock, aching from an enticing marriage of pain and pleasure, seemed to prove this point even further. « Fuck, you taste so good. So, so good, mistress. »

The tip of his tongue had cleaned the last remaining bits of cum on the corners of his lips, tasting once more what he’d define as the sweetest poison on Earth whilst you were completely sent into a post-orgasm daze, eyes blurry from the pearls of tears that had threatened to fall earlier.

Your gaze was stuck on the ceiling, causing you to miss the ill-intentioned grin that had crept across Atsumu’s facial traits. « Are we going to play this game longer, huh? ‘Kinda tired of playing your personal slut. » He trailed off, his body now hovering over yours. « We all know for a fact that if there’s a slut here, it’s you, and you’re all fuckin’ mine. » He whispered right in the crook of your ear, having chosen to reduce the space between your ear and his lips to send chills down your spine. 

« Atsumu… » You breathed out, barely recognizing your own voice from how weak it sounded. 

« Two can play this little game of yours, ya’ know? But… We’re gonna play under my rules now. So start calling me by my name. » Words coated with lust fell straight into your eardrum. « My real name, doll. » He added, this time with a deeper tone.

It was the last warning he had given you before crashing his lips onto yours, tongue barely waiting half a second to force its way in your own mouth where your two tongues clashed in harmony. Despite your state, you still put up a fight against his pink muscle, well decided to win this fight for supremacy by tugging him closer by the neck. 

« Dirty little thing, you never know when to quit, do you, huh? » He breathed out against your lips, a trail of saliva connecting your mouths. 

« Fuck you, Atsumu. You wish I’d give you what you want! » You barked back, bringing him closer to shut him up with yet another kiss.

« Weren’t you just cumming on my mouth, like, two minutes ago? C’mon, I haven’t even fucked you stupid yet and you’re already losing your damn mind? » He seethed, deciding to shut you up on his own terms by planting his pearly whites into the yet untouched flesh of your neck where, later on, a bouquet of scarlet and plum love bites would bloom.

Atsumu created a path of open-mouthed kisses, intercut with repetitions of « mine » between each kiss, that led to the valley of your breasts. His hands were quick to set you free (quite the euphemism because he decided, much like your panties, to rip your bra apart) from the poor piece of fabric that was separating him from your breasts. 

There again, he wasted no time sending another urge of pleasure coursing through your veins as his mouth was quick to latch onto your breast— the hypnotic rolling motions of his tongue and the small bites left on your nipple caused a flow of moans to fall free from your mouth. « Make those sounds for me, c’mon, don’t go shy on me now, princess. » He mused before giving the same treatment to your other breast while he was pinching your other nipple with his fingers, rolling it until it hurt pleasurably to the touch.

The whines and moans falling like a cascade from your lips had always been something he will never get tired of, it was like the best of rewards, that and seeing your face contorted by pleasure. 

He knew damn well your core was still leaking from your previous orgasm, and prepping it once more would only please you too much, and now that the roles had reversed, he was not bound to give you what you wanted anymore.

His digits wrapped around his cock, throbbing in anticipation and the tip as red as ever and a trail of pre-cum was leaking down the side of his girth. Atsumu gave it a few experimental pumps, using his fingers to spread the pre-cum all over his cock although he knew that he didn’t need much of a lubricant given how soaked you were. « C’mon, Atsumu, don’t tease me! » You whined. 

« Huh? What did you just call me? » He asked, ceasing the pumping motions on his cock which let you know that if you were to call him by the wrong name again, he’d just leave you on your own. 

« Fuck you… Don’t tease me, please, Daddy. » You breathed out.

« See? Dirty sluts like you can turn into good girls. » He grinned at your obedience before resuming to his antics. 

The tip of his cock was teasing your core, letting the tip run over your folds and your clit to give you a taste of the pleasure you were going to go through. And then it hit, the gradual pleasure conquering each inch of your body as he slid inch by inch the length of his cock inside your throbbing hole that was already sucking him like a vice. « Fuck, fuck you’re tight. » 

The sudden stretch caused a moan to erupt from your lips in response to the sudden presence amongst your walls. The way your body responded to every experimental inch drilled within you earned a light groan out of him each time, that is until he managed to push his entire girth inside of you, you mutually reacted to the overwhelming sensation by a choked breath, as if every ounce of oxygen had been knocked out of your lungs. 

And then it was a crescendo— not only regarding the rhythm of his hypnotic thrusts which never failed to cause the sudden appearance of a soft sound of pleasure from bursting out of your lips, but also regarding the rising level of ecstasy and pure bliss in your lower belly : the forming knots became a bit tighter with each slap of his testicles against your derrière and the stars shining behind your closed lids became a bit clearer with each thrust, sending you straight into a daze where you failed to tell the difference between reality and lustful dreams. « D-Daddy, please, ahh! Fuck me so good, fuck me so good… » You breathed out between moans.

You couldn’t help but dig your nails into the flesh of his upper arm which provoked a groan out of him, crimson colored trails colored his skin and the red tone of pleasure married the tone of his skin so effortlessly, as if your marks had always belonged on his skin. 

« Who’s making you feel this fuckin’ good? Who does this wet cunt of yours belong to, slut? » Atsumu grunted, a trail of curses leaving his lips in the process. His perpetual quest of pleasure was ceaseless, never once stopping to fill his lungs with clear oxygen. Every thrust spoke volume, and said volume growing louder and louder with each passing second and each thrust given as an offering to the deities of lust. « Y-You, daddy! No one.. Fuuck, n-no one else! »

«Fuck, baby! ‘M gonna cum in that tight pussy of yours, better get every single drop for Daddy, fuck, fuck, fuck! » His lips were glued to yours, careless to allow you the right to breathe and that was all due to the lust that consumed him as he could already fill the welcoming breezes of his approaching climax against his skin. 

The tip of his girth was kissing the panel of nerves designed for pleasure, each thrust caressing your cervix was as addictive as the last one. It signed the end of you, sealed the fatalist fate where you were bound to unleash a second orgasm although your body had barely recovered from the first one. This crescendo of lust had drawn more pleasure that your body could possibly handle, forced more reactions that your mind could follow. 

Speaking of the latter, it was pitch black, and not even a beacon of hope had the chance to shine through the void of your thoughts, pierce through the darkness emanating from the open gates of your subconscious. Only unintelligible sounds that echoed to pleasure left your parted lips, head tilted to the side with a string of drool creating a humid stain on the pillow. 

And then it hit you, your body had manifested the overdose of ecstasy for a second time, draining the last bits of energy you ignored you had. A dragged moan of his name, his real name, had left your lips at the occasion whilst the hand settled on his forearm had slid down on the mattress, taken away by the sudden exhaustion.

Atsumu’s salute came in the form of one final slam of his hips against your cunt dripping with the marriage of your juices and, after having colored the blank canvas of your walls with the color of sin, his own. « Good girl, see? See how nice you are when you obey? ‘Made a real mess, didn’t’cha? » He swore to himself that he could have come undone a second time at the sight of the cum leaking from your hole, pathetically clenching around his girth as he was pulling away from your hole. 

Your breathing was everything but regular, oxygen seemed to fade away as soon as it entered your system and your brain fogged by this persistent daze of lust wasn’t helping much. Obey? The same word was kept on loop in your mind from the moment he had said it. « Atsumu, I thought you knew me better than that. » You breathed out, bowing your lips into an ill-intentioned grin at the idea that had just blossomed in your mind. Obey? Very well.

« What are you on about? » He interrogated, brow quirked up to emphasize his question.

With the leverage given by the support of your elbows, you managed (as efficiently as someone who’s had two orgasms in a row, that is) to get back on your knees, and before Atsumu knew it, you were sitting on your self-claimed throne in the middle of his lap, right where his erection was still poking your entrance. You had essentially caged him with your luscious thighs, the sweetest hold he could’ve asked for despite what his face may say. « ‘The hell are y’doin’? » He asked once more, growing impatient by the second.

« Raising your voice at me? » You mused, sarcasm lacing your every word. « Very well, then. » You added, shoving your index and middle finger in his mouth to prevent him from spilling any more absurdities— you were not one bit surprised to see Atsumu quickly warming up to the not-so foreign presence of your fingers in his mouth, his pink muscle coating your digits with his saliva. « Good boy. See how nice you are when you obey? » Atsumu’s pupils dilated even more under the spell of lust when he realized you had twisted his own words in your favor.

Atsumu wanted to scoff, to shove you off and regain the monopoly of control once more but the way you were enticing him into a game of back-and-forth, a constant fight for supremacy, made him crave you even more. He hated it, and loved it at the same time.

How convenient that the tip of cock, still reddened by pleasure and coated with a veil of sinful cum, was grazing the curve of your derrière. One could say that this position was almost… Strategic, mhm? However, just sinking down on his girth in a heartbeat would be giving Atsumu what he wanted on a silver plate, with a supplement of moans and whines on top of it. 

« If you like control so much… » You trailed off, leaning to the side just a bit to reach the night stand right next to his bed where, of course, he’d hide his precious collection of toys devoted to pleasure. Your orbs scanned a bit, hands swimming through the myriad of strap-ons and others cock-rings with flashing colors, only to find the holy Graal in the form of metal-like handcuffs.

« You’re gonna love this, then. » You said, dangling from left to right the object of his torture, Atsumu’s eyes followed each motion of the handcuffs in a hypnotic manner, ready to be sent into a substate of delirium. 

« Hands. » You demanded, the imperative tone coloring your words provoked a whimper of anticipation out of him. « Good boy. » you praised, taking one hand after the other and locking each of them to the bedding, tugging just a bit on his wrists to see if the material would resist just in case Atsumu would put up a fight— but he’s such a good and obedient boy, he would never dare cross the limits you have drawn yourself.

« Who’s my good boy? » Words filled with such sweetness hidden behind a mirage of lust, like a poisoned apple of some sorts, fell straight into his eardrums. Atsumu’s mouth was set agape, believing for one second that he had forgotten how to talk properly. « ’S me, I’m your good boy, mistress. » So sweet, you couldn’t resist letting your hand envelope his cheek in a caring manner.

« Mh, what do you want mistress to do to you, my pretty boy? » More enchanting words lingered in the air, echoing like the fallen promises of the sirens to lure martyrs into the depth of lust. « I want… » He began, pupils dilating further upon observing your hands caressing all over his chest and abdomen region, feeling each bump created by his muscles. « I want mistress to fuck me, fuck me so hard ‘till she milks me dry. » He breathed out.

« And why do you want that? » You cooed, reducing dangerously the space between your lips and his own, your breasts pressed against the muscles of his chest. « … ‘Cause I’m your good boy, a-and your dirty slut. » He looked at you almost hesitantly, wondering if he had chosen the right wording.

The ill-intentioned grin painted across your face seemed to be the confirmation that, yes, Atsumu had said the magic words that had been housed inside the deepest, darkest parts of your subconscious. « That’s right, my dirty little slut. » 

You retreated your hips backwards, your gaze never once daring to leave his face and how his facial traits were already torn with pleasure. His hips had buckled at the degradation falling from your lips, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through his veins in a heartbeat— he was so receptive to your words and touch, it was almost pathetic. « You’re so impatient, aren’t you? But good sluts deserved so be fucked so well, too. ‘Want me to ride your cock until you can’t take it anymore, mh? ‘Want me to make you cum? » You mocked as the pad of your thumb was brushing in circular motions the tip of his cock, you’d continue this torture until the sacred words would fall from his lips with pity drooling from every syllable. « P-Please… Fuck, mistress, milk me dry… Fuck me like there’s no tomorrow. My cock’s— Ahh, shit, shit, shit! My c-cock’s yours, mistress. » 

He had begged so well, his pleas were on a loop like a broken record on your mind, getting drunk on the feeling of pity exuding his every pore shamelessly. You laid both of your hands flat on his lower abdomen to obtain some leverage, enough to tease him by gliding the angry scarlet shade of his cock in vertical motions against your folds. « Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please! » He pleaded once more, and as the words had died on his tongue like a secret prayer, you sank your hips down in a swift motion without warning. 

Atsumu felt like every ounce of oxygen had left his lungs, as if his brain had ceased to function for a moment because he was secretly persuaded that he had seen a glimpse of heaven as your derrière ascended onto his cock begging to be used for good measure, begging to have its flow of cum be leaked into the tight grip of your walls, begging to feel resurgences of pleasure over and over again until his mind couldn’t keep up anymore and until becoming a whining, stuttering, drooling mess fucked stupid.

And then it began again, the ascension to heaven— a path he knew all too well, a path adorned with your name written in the finest gold lettering infused with the most sinful essence, a path illuminated by your face contorted in pleasure. The mere thought of it alone was enough to send him in overdrive.

The repetition of your hips gliding the girth of his cock was enough to make his tongue peak through the corner of his lips, not that he could muster enough force to shut his mouth anyways. But it was fine, so fine, because you were at the center of the echoes of his moans. 

« C’mon, baby! Be my good boy, ah fuck, fuck! Good little slut! » You breathed out, neck tilted to face the ceiling in ecstasy. Atsumu wasn’t following much, the sight of you riding him alongside your breasts bouncing frenetically to the rhythm of your vertical motions was the greatest of gifts.

And on the other one hand, the greatest of gifts, for you, was being able to see him so weak and vulnerable, unable to put enough strength into his thrusts which led you to completely take control, unable to refrain any sound of pleasure from leaving the frontiers of his lips. « Ahh, fuck! Fuck me…! Fuck me! Nghh! » And there you were, drinking his enticing pleas. 

Your fingertips left hot crimson trails on the skin of his abdomen, true testimonies of the pure essence of ecstasy coursing through your veins. Your breaths were growing more erratic, oftentimes they were cut with your own moans too. « Wanna’ cum, pretty boy? W-Wanna cum for your Mistress? »

« Please, please! P-Please just lemme’ fuckin’ cum in you! Lemme’… Fill your pretty cunt! » He breathed out in response.

Those were the sole little words you needed to quicken the pace of your ascensions, the latter caused Atsumu’s moans to grow more high-pitched. Although you couldn’t see it, you were entirely convinced that the tip of his cock had never been more rouge, he was breathing out pleas but ignored why on the long run, fully sent into a state of overstimulation. 

« A-Atsumu! Cum with me! » And the magic of performative language happened, the familiar feeling of the warmth of his white shots of cum invaded in the sweetest way your velvety walls, coating them with sins and passion. 

An elongated whimper fell free from your lips as it announced your own end, your own orgasm had been triggered with the one last fatal pump that untied all the metaphorical knots in your lower abdomen. Such a blissful sensation that never grew old, especially when Atsumu was the reason behind it all. 

But alas, as soon as you had touched Nirvana with your fingertips, fatality hit you in the back— you found yourself deprived of your energy, feeling as if all the oxygen had been knocked off of your lungs, and your mind was caught in a daze which projected nothing but a white veil.

« Baby… You did so good, so, so good… » Your words fell like hot whispers against his chest, your sudden lack of energy had caused you to fall limp onto his chest while you were still cockwarming him. 

Atsumu blinked once, then twice, only to realize that the pleasure that had enveloped him was very much real— and so were you. « Fuck that was good… » He whispered in response, not daring to move one bit because he knew his muscles would never forgive him for doing so. « You’re an angel, y’know that? » His gaze fell on you, the softest hint of a grin adorned his facial features.

You couldn’t help but release a hush giggle at his answer « How dare you calling me an angel after all of that, hm? »

This time, it was his time to mimic you by giving life to his own giggle, « Hey, the devil was the most beautiful angel once… Or something like that, ‘dunno. » He grinned, keeping the groans of pain locked in his throat as he managed to lay his palm against your cheek— his touch was so familiar, leaning into his palm came natural.  « But I didn’t know the devil came in sexy lingerie though. »

Oh, to you, dear victim of a maneater : you know you would do anything to keep them by your side, because when they say they love you, they love you long time.

PLAYBOY - PART TWO

– in which second year inarizaki student miya atsumu wants to make a girl jealous. you were his best bet at doing just that.

a/n: part two!!! big thanks to isa, nona, and leaf for betaing this one <3. this is the longest continuous piece ive ever written (usually my work caps out around 700), and im lowkey sorta proud of it? it think it sets things up well for the end :)

genre: fluff, beginning into the hurt/comfort, fake dating

warnings: light swearing, but i think thats it this round

word count: 2158

enjoy!

You supposed it wasn’t that bad. He was sweet–well. Was he?

Atsumu Miya, strange man. Maybe it was his Libra sun, maybe that was thing that made him so damn compelling. He wouldn’t let anyone hate him fully, no matter how much they loathed and despised his entire being. They’d see his intensity and his insanity and how good those things made him at everything. Their own jealousy would override any appreciation they could have for him. If anyone had the choice, they’d hate him without a second thought, but he would never let that happen. He was charismatic like that. 

He’d send you a good morning text laced with sarcastic heart emojis and pseudo passion. He’d lock your fingers with his at the first possible moment. He’d wink at Suna and shoot a quick glance to where your hands met, making sure the other boy knew what was going on. Making sure he could rub it in. Suna would just scoff in response. 

Atsumu was very eccentric, to say the least. He was filled to the brim with strange claims and nonsense sentences that meant nothing to anyone who would care enough to decode them. He spoke in a language only one would be able to understand after spending your whole life with him. He texted just how he spoke; everything could be read in his voice, without even hearing it.

Mornin sweetcheeks ;)

                We talked about this, Miya. No pet names in private.

Awww Y/N! Thats no fun :( is there anythin i can call ya?

                 My name, Atsumu. 

:(((

But what if i wanted ta call yaaaaaa

Hmmmmmmm

Doll? Sweetie? A nickname??? Can i make up a nickname????

                  I’d rather you didn’t.

Sugar?

                  You sound like an old woman

Thats not a no, sugarplum

                  Yeah okay, whatever.

Yer so prickly

                   You’re insufferable

                   Meet me in the courtyard

My pleasure~

And he always would. He’d spot you standing next to the fountain and jog up to you, smiling brightly. His eye contact would be intense and passionate and unwavering without a second thought. He’d hold his hand out for you to grab and the acting for today would begin. 

“Aww, ‘Tsumu! Stop it!” You made sure to have blush applied all across your cheeks and nose today, and every day before and after. An artificial sort of heat made it all the more convincing, especially if your goal was to act like an embarrassed and giddy little schoolgirl. 

“Stop what, sugar? Thinkin’ yer beautiful?” He chuckled in the way only Atsumu was able to chuckle. It was filled with the most fake sincerity a chuckle could be; it sounded more real than any fake laugh you’d ever heard. It fooled even you more than once, but the look in his eyes always disproved the nagging potentials in the back of your brain. It’s fake, Y/N. He doesn’t think all that.

You simply pushed into his shoulder in response to the best of your ability, tossing his upper body slightly but not enough to change his composure. A small, fiendish smile was shot his way.  “Nice one, Atsumu.”

Deep down, it was incredibly apparent that everything was a game to Atsumu. He knew what he was playing, as well as all of the rules. He knew what he was meant to do. He knew what would get a rise out of you. He knew, somehow, every way to make you feel like someone was deeply infatuated with you, despite the truth behind the matter. He knew you began to think he liked you.

The night all of this began, you called Atsumu. It was a quick phone call, complete with the sounds of purple gel pen scrawling across dotted paper and two teen boys bickering about how uncomfortable you would be with certain things. It was an hour of lunacy, really, but all of the heavy sighs got somewhere in the end.

“What if we give each other letters? That could be cute and obvious.” A pen was pressed to your lips, tapping consistently against the softer skin. Purple ink, with only about two hundred words left in it.

“Are ya comin’ to my games in my jersey or not.” Behind him, you could make out Osamu say some snarky ‘why would she want to?’ preceding a thud and a grunt.

“Of course,” a large sigh escaped your lips, “I’ll try my best to.” 

“Good. I gotta prove to that Omi-omi I can get a girl.” Another snarky comment was added by Osamu.

“Why do you have to prove yourself to so many people, Atsumu?” He ignored the question.

“I like the letters idea.”

A stack of light pink stationary found its home on your desk from then on, the height diminishing by mere millimeters each day. Sometimes they’d say things like, “Nice ass, Miya” with doodles of little flowers on the corners. Sometimes they’d be well thought out observations on something he did in a practice game you were asked to watch. Sometimes they’d simply tell him that you were proud of him. What’s the harm in variety?

His were, well, vastly different. Most notable were his dissertations on how much his brother pissed him off. Second to that were his academic essays on why Suna Rintaro was a, in his words, “little baby who needs to get some damn passion for god’s sake!” And finally, his light compliments. He was a very observant guy, despite it all, and there was something deeply endearing about the way he, and his chicken-scratch handwriting, told you about something little he noticed. It started with the little heart you drew on your right pointer finger while dazing off in class, and continued with changes in nail color and if he liked your socks. It was easier to say he was just observant, but over time Osamu heard differently. 

Not that any of that mattered to you. Not that it was anything at all. It’s all fake, it’s not like you want him to like you. With his dreamy- intense caramel eyes that look like the warm setting sun. Or his unrelenting sweet energy that felt like a warm hug after years apart. 

Stop it, Y/N. That’s not what we’re here for. Just spiting Hisakawa. And, you supposed, whoever that “Omi-omi” was. And Suna too? At one point? It was all very vague.

Why do you have to prove yourself to so many people, Atsumu?

In addition to the letters, there were public displays of affection. According to Atsumu, because he was known to be very affectionate, he needed to be that way with you. It was a requirement from the

“Rules of datin’ Miya Atsumu. Number one: frequent P-D-A.”

“Why can’t I just be the exception?” 

“No one’ll be convinced otherwise, sugar.” He managed to win that argument, and it was more than just being touch-starved that let him do so. He’s a very convincing man. “I’ll jus’ give ya a mornin’ hug. Plus the hand holdin’. Plus maybe a few kisses here and there? Have ya been kissed before?”

“Yes, Atsumu.” You managed to pack in a sigh and a flirtatious lilt.

“Good.” 

Atsumu was a good kisser. It was practically a fact of life at around day four. He’d grab your hand in the morning and lean in for a small, chaste peck. That same routine would happen roughly three times a day. Nothing deeper than that though, so maybe you weren’t yet able to gauge it. His lips were soft like he took care of them; sometimes they tingled of menthol chapstick. He always tasted minty, for what you were able to taste. But it was all for show. It didn’t matter if he tasted good. 

You never really knew how important volleyball was to him until you began going to games. Sitting in the stands of the Fall Preliminaries and watching as Inarizaki racked up points, far faster and with more vigor than you ever thought they could. You didn’t know, until that moment, what it meant to be one of the top teams in the nation. 

Fall came and went, taking all of its warm color schemes and pleasant temperatures with it. A far more bleak energy was brought over the world as a whole, and suddenly it was time for Atsumu to leave for a training camp. His absence, be it only for five days, was slightly jarring. Your hand felt empty without his in it, and the occasional tingle of your lips without his on them was unmistakable. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder; maybe that meant distance makes you realize how much fondness was already festering. 

The pride you felt towards him should have been an early indicator. The way you looked at him through rose-tinted lenses within minutes of making the decision to ‘date’ him should have told some sort of story. Inarizaki had a practice game a few days before Spring Nationals; you studied for a few exams in the stands.

“Y/N! Didya see that?” He stared up you, excitement beaming from him. He must’ve done something cool.

“No, I’m sorry ‘Tsumu! Do it again for me, kay?” Acting out of your normal attitude made this whole thing seem more real to the onlooker. It was easier to look like you were in a relationship when you acted like it was all a romantic comedy.

“You heard the girl, ‘Samu!” 

It happened so fast. Osamu set the ball in the air, and suddenly it was pushed back down to the floor. 

“What the hell was that?” Your eyes bugged out of your head, surprised incredibly by his ability to play more than one position incredibly well. 

“It’s a quick attack! Copied it from that Tobio-kun from trainin camp and his little middle blocker.”

“Fuck, man” you were still trying to stabilize your breath, figuring out what the hell just happened before your eyes. 

He just smiled. He smiled the bright, intense smile he shows the whole world. A short blow of a whistle preceded a much longer one, and Atsumu’s smile somehow became even larger. That same smile made your heart flutter and soar, but he could never know that. It was all fake.

Atsumu offered to walk you home that night. You stood between Atsumu and Osamu, with Suna on the other side. One of them was speaking passionately about the coming national tournament, while the other three either listened intently or ignored everything. Even after an intense game, Atsumu still brimmed with energy. He was incredible like that.

“I’m so excited to do that quick in Tokyo. We’re gonna smoke those private school brats this year, I can feel it.” The blonde’s voice was soft but intense. 

“That ‘Omi-omi’ guy?”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.” Suna interjected, sighing loudly at his friend’s rivalry with this unknown person.

“He’s the ace for the school that always ends up beatin’ us every year. Itachiyama.” Osamu’s voice was solemn; he was tired.

“And we’re gonna crush em to bits, right?”

“Yeah, ‘Tsumu.” 

“I hope Tobio-kun sees us do that quick too, ‘Samu. His goody-two-shoes ass needs ta be put in his place.”

“You’re insane,” Osamu glanced to Atsumu once, then back forward, smirking, “but yeah, we’re gonna win.”

“Don’t be so sure, Karasuno had to beat Shiratorizawa to get there,” Suna scoffed.

“We’re gonna win.” Atsumu’s voice didn’t waver. He was so deeply sure.

“Why do you need to prove yourself to so many people, Atsumu?”

“Huh?” Osamu and Suna walked ahead of you two, picking up their pace to give the lovebirds some space–they both knew it was fake, though.

“You’re always trying to prove yourself. Why is that?” Your question was completely out of a place of curiosity. No malice intended.

He stopped completely, turning towards you and digging deep into your eyes. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes slanted. He didn’t know. “What?”

“Like with Sakusa and ‘Tobio’, why do you need to prove to them that you’re good” You paused for a second to stare deeper into his bewildered eyes. “We already know you’re good. You’re the best setter in the nation.”

There wasn’t really any explanation to what happened next, but Atsumu began crying. It was quiet and slow, a single tear falling down his cheek, but the fact that it happened at all was all the shock it needed to have. Maybe he wasn’t used to praise. “I don-” he choked slightly, “I don’t know.”

He seemed more empty than usual; all the happiness of the past few hours left his body in one fell swoop. Your arms wrapped around his waist quickly and seamlessly; you pressed your head into his body. After a second, he returned the hug. He held you there, in the middle of a sidewalk, holding back tears. Suna and Osamu were well out of sight by now.

“Let’s go back to my place, I’ll make us tea.”

part one ||masterlist||part three

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