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kais-e · 1 year

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(𝟏) 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

ও rating. explicit

ও summary. Atsumu confronts you. | wc. 2.2k+

cw/ tw. college au. nerd!reader, volleyball player Atsumu, mild angst (like you can blink and you'd miss it), reader wears glasses, praise kink, oral sex, unprotected sex, pet names (ex. sweetheart, baby)

ও featuring. Atsumu x Fem!Reader

ও an. we have reached the end! (my sleeping schedule is all over the place due to work, so I’m a little later than I said this would be up) hopefully, you like how it came together, enjoy:) | series m. list

You wouldn’t consider this—hurriedly slipping through a crowd of drunk college students to the front door—you running away from your problems. No. It’s just a reprieve, a moment to devise a reasonable solution in the time it takes to leave the frat house and reach the bus stop.

But once you’re out on the sidewalk, you admit that you’re not exactly not running away either. Because while trying to avoid tripping over your feet in the ridiculous heels Kay convinced you to wear, you wonder if switching classes or moving to a different school would be too irrational.

And in context, yes, that’s precisely the definition of what you said you're not doing.

You know—tangled up in the agonized frustration with how well everything was going and hopeless resignation with how it was bound to come to a head at some point—that you wouldn’t have stayed to confront Atsumu anyway. Not with so many people there to witness the look on your face when the rejection comes.

Avoidance is easier, and acceptance of harsh facts is doable over time. So that’s that.

Only it’s not. There’s more to it.

It’s just you’d rather not go over the mental gymnastics of it while trying to get as far as possible from the heat of bodies and loud music. Not when all you can think about is fleeing, particularly to the safety of your apartment, where you can be a coward in peace.

Unfortunately, parties and gossip go hand in hand. And with so many eyes and ears (and Kay) in such a small space, it’s no wonder it doesn’t take long for news to travel.

So it seems.

Or maybe you’re walking slower than you think.

Maybe…maybe Atsumu actually started to wonder what took you so long and asked around for himself. Either way, it doesn’t matter because you hear him come barrelling out of the party after you, and he’s fast.

You walk faster, a small part of you hoping he’ll give up if only to give yourself more time to think. You haven’t even examined everything or thought of what you should do yet—

Yet, your internal spiraling gutters out when he calls your name.

“H-hey, just wait a minute—!”

And then. Then, Atsumu’s in front of you, bringing you to a stop, his chest heaving and almost tripping over his feet—you’re almost not sure you’re ready to face him yet. You stand there anyhow, legs stiff and swallowed up by anxiety as you peek up at him from under your lashes.

“You’re leaving?” he breathes. “I thought you were having fun. You were having fun, right? Was it…was it me? We can—”

“You know,” you interrupt, voice trembling.

A slow blink is all you get—almost like he hadn’t expected you to broach the subject outright.

But an impossibly long moment of silence follows, a brief hesitation that says a lot and equally not enough. Strained. Painful.

Then Atsumu clears his throat, yet his voice still wavers.

“I know. I—” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve actually known for a while now.”

Your mouth feels dry, and the reasonable thing to do next is to ask how. But all you can think about are the number of times he’s shown up to class and known. That you’d said and done things, and he—he—

"Sweetheart,” Atsumu murmurs. “Don’t cry."

At first, you hadn’t noticed, but now you feel the hot trail of tears on your cheeks. And you’re not sure what’s worse: that you’re crying or that Atsumu’s here to witness it.

You cover your face with your hands. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Of me?"

"Not funny." You sniffle behind your hands, lip trembling. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wasn’t sure at first, not until last week. I'm kinda attuned to your laugh now," he explains. "But I was worried you’d avoid me if I asked you about it, so I thought I’d wait for you to tell me.”

“You’d probably end up waiting a long time, you know. I’m not—” your sigh is shaky. “I’m not good at this stuff.”

“I would have waited anyway. I’d…” Atsumu laughs nervously, “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. All of it. Because I don’t regret what we did.”

You’re too scared to see if he’s telling the truth.

“But—we—I-I’m me, and you’re…you. We’re just so different,” you try to explain.

“Why does that matter?” he asks softly.

“Because…because…”

For some inexplicable reason, you don’t have an answer. Does it really matter?

It shouldn’t.

And yet.

“Because nobody likes the nerd. I’m quiet and sometimes difficult, and I look like—this—and—”

“Sweetheart, look at me.” His fingers wrap around yours, thumbs smoothing circles over the inside of your wrists, and when you finally drop your hands, he smiles. “There she is. Listen to me, okay?”

You shake your head, biting your lip.

“I think you’re so pretty,” he says, reaching up to brush away the remaining tears on your cheeks. “And I could care less about how different we are. Do you understand?”

Out of all of the scenarios you thought up, Atsumu telling you how pretty you are in the middle of a dimly lit sidewalk as it starts to snow hadn’t been one of them. Part of you doesn’t want to believe him, but the way his eyes track over your face like he’s taking it in for the first time has your breath catching in your chest.

“Let me take you out on a date.”

“Right now?” you giggle softly in disbelief, feeling slightly breathless—a tell-tale flush trickles up your neck and sends prickles of heat onto your face. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Then we can stay in at my place.” Atsumu rushes to add when you arch an eyebrow, “we don’t have to do anything other than watch movies.”

He keeps going when you just stare at him, all dumbstruck.

“And I know a good takeout place that’s still open. Just…say yes,” he pleads.

You swallow thickly. Even though you’re still waiting for this to be the setup of some big joke, there’s not a single trace of dishonesty or mockery on Atsumu’s face.

“Okay,” you whisper, staring up at him. “Movies sound nice.”

The smile he gives you is almost shy, and you can’t help but return it.

It’s nice, not over the top like some dates you’d been on in the past, but it doesn’t need to be.

He sticks to his word, and you can tell he intends to make the most out of cheap takeout and sci-fi b-movies you’ve insisted you never watched. But it’s not until you’re both tucked under the blanket from the back of the couch that any residual nerves from earilier slowly melt away.

Maybe it’s because it’s Atsumu, or perhaps you’re just overly distracted by his hand tracing indelible patterns into the spot of your stomach where your shirt rode up after he curled you into his side.

You bite down on the corner of your lip, heart fluttering wildly, and look over at him out of the corner of your eye. However, he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to you. Instead, he’s entirely immersed in the movie on the screen.

It’s then that you realize you have no idea what to do next.

He said neither of you is obligated to do more than talk and laugh and cuddle. But it also implies that you can.

And the longer you sit there, wondering if he does or doesn’t want more, your nerves creep back.

Clearly, you’re overthinking this. You’ve technically done worse things with Atsumu over the phone. Several times. And for some reason, you can’t stop freaking out about how his fingers keep tracing lower and lower until you’re sighing into his neck.

"Sorry," he says insincerely.

"No, you're not." You tilt your head, blinking when you find him staring at you.

Slowly, he starts to smile. "No, I'm not."

The end credits come up on the TV at the same time that Atsumu dips his head down to kiss you. His tongue is already sliding across yours, and you bury your fingers into his soft hair.

He reacts exactly how you hoped he would: he groans softly as his hands palm your hips and slide up the back of your shirt, equally pulling you against him and pressing you further into the couch.

And when you fall back against the cushions, he follows like a lead, chasing your mouth until your thighs are bracketing his hips.

“I know I said we don’t have to do anything, but fuck,” he mumbles, palming your ass through your jeans in greedy handfuls. “Just this, okay?”

You don’t even know what it is that you agree to. Just that one moment, you’re nodding yes, and the next, Atsumu has both of you down to your underwear.

The noises he forces from you should be embarrassing when he lifts your hips and grinds his covered cock into you, mortified to acknowledge the wanton, needy side of you he so easily coaxes to the surface. But you can’t find it in yourself to care—not now, anyway.

Perhaps later, you think, after Kay begs you to recount every detail.

You won’t.

But. Still.

You’ll think about the muscles in his shoulders and how they roll as he moves you against him. Or how his mouth makes you dizzy until you’re thinking of nothing but the cock you want inside you. Just how much you want him in that very moment, it’s all-consuming.

"Atsumu—ah—I want you.”

He doesn’t even look up. Instead, he hums against your chest, lips latching onto a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “You have me, baby.”

This time, you tug on his hair lightly to get his attention.

“No, I want you.” The words come out so soft that you swear he didn’t hear you, but then Atsumu stops to stare at you with wide eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You swallow thickly and then say, “are you going to fuck me right here?”

"Yes?" He sees the look on your face before changing his answer. "No."

Atsumu scoops you off the couch by the back of your thighs, all but dragging you up his body to crash his mouth onto yours. Then he’s stumbling through the living room and kicking closed a door seconds later before he falls onto his bed with you.

He leans back, his eyes dark as they track over you, settling a warm, heady feeling that spreads in your abdomen.

“I’ve never gotten…to really look before,” he says, a wide hand trailing between your breasts down to the top of your underwear, where his fingers wrap into the waistband. “To see all of you instead of just parts.”

Then he tugs, and delicate lace falls apart around your hips, effectively ruining your favorite pair.

"H-hey," you try to protest, but it comes out shaky and hitched on the back of your tongue. "I liked those."

"I'll buy you more. As many as you fucking want," he groans as he shifts down your body, his hands pressing your thighs further apart. "Look how swollen your clit is. I just…"

“Oh.” Your hands scramble to his head, squealing when he presses several messy kisses into your cunt.

“Okay?” he asks as he slips one then two fingers inside you—your hips buck, rocking against his mouth. "I just need to taste you."

“Yes,” you hiss—barely audible over how loud your pulse thumps in your ears. Every other word is yes, or oh, only capable of little thought unless it consisted of Atsumu.

He doesn’t stop until your thighs are shaking around his ears, and from the tip of his nose to the bottom of his chin is absolutely covered in you—his face sticky-wet and shiny. Soaked. He presses one more lingering kiss against your clit, and makes a soft noise in the back of his throat when you eagerly arch against his mouth.

"Do I need a condom?" he asks while tugging down his boxers, breathless. Desperate.

You think about the ones Kay shoved into your purse, untouched and waiting—how she will likely call you an idiot later.

But that’s a future problem.

Right now, you’re too focused on how his cock slides heavily against your slit—looking bigger and more intimidating than it ever did through the tiny screen on your phone.

“Sweetheart, do I—”

“No, no, please just—”

You’ve barely finished speaking before Atsumu lunges forward and knocks you back against the mattress. His mushroom tip catches on your entrance, and then he thrusts in, slowly, right to the hilt, until you can feel the downy hairs that cover the base of his cock.

You gasp at the stretch, the sheer feeling of fullness, barely conscious of how your walls flutter around him.

“Shit,” he whines, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face between your breasts as he begins to fuck you deep.

He murmurs little praises into your throat, letting you know how tight and wet you are, asking, “there?” when he feels your toes curl. “Like that?” When you shiver and clench down hard.

“Y-yes,” you sob, head falling back against the sheets.

"I want you to moan my name. Loud enough for me to hear this time.” A little smile spreads across his lips when your breath hitches.

“I—”

"I know, sweetheart,” he says, his breath hot and damp against your neck. “I've heard you moan my name before when you thought you were being quiet.”

You squirm beneath him as he fucks you into the mattress.

“Go on,” he hisses. “Nice and loud for me."

Your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders, stomach clenching, doing exactly what he told you to do as you shatter around him. You cum with his name on your tongue and hiccupping around quick breaths.

“F-feels so fucking good.” He lets out a long, low groan as he grasps you tight, his fingers digging into your ass and back. His hips stutter, jerking deeper inside you, and you feel him, tacky-wet and dripping between your thighs.

He drops down on top of you, panting and tucking his face into your neck. You card your fingers through his damp hair and lightly scratch his scalp.

After a moment, he opens his eyes, lazily chasing your mouth for a kiss.

“We should do that again,” he mumbles. “With my phone this time. For later.”

When you giggle, he smiles against your lips.

#not me finally opening tumblr again #this was such a satisfying final chapter #atsumu is such a big softie #and i feel for the reader so much ;;#the way i'm going to reread this a lot ahhshs thank you for writing!!#atsumu x reader

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kais-e · 1 year

Text

(𝟏) 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

ও rating. explicit

ও summary. things get even more difficult when Atsumu needs help with his homework before his next game, and who better to help him than the class tutor. | wc. 2.1k+

cw/ tw. college au. nerd!reader, volleyball player Atsumu, sexting, dirty talk, reader wears glasses, pet names (ex. sweetheart, baby)

ও featuring. Atsumu x Fem!Reader

ও an. hi, yes it's been a minute, but real-life has gotten in the way of creativity and spurred a lack of motivation. anywho, I hope this was worth the wait! | series m. list

You glance at the coffee shop doors for the dozenth time since you’ve sat down. It’s unnecessary, considering you know when Atsumu will be there, and there are still ten more minutes to go—the big hand on the clock above the door moves.

Well, now nine.

Time is moving slower than ever today, and you can’t decide whether to be relieved or anxious: relieved that you have a few extra minutes to collect yourself and nervous that you’ll actually have to talk to Atsumu face to face instead of through a tiny plastic box.

Speaking of, your phone vibrates against the table. Looking down, you bite your lip when you find a message from him asking how your day’s going—

Okay, maybe you’re more nervous than relieved at the moment.

It’s weird, you think, knowing that you’re about to meet up with him in a few minutes, and he’ll sit by you, none the wiser, about the fact you’re the one he’s been messaging all morning. Like you and the girl he talks to through the phone are two separate people.

Strange, really, that you’re almost unsure how to feel about it.

Your foot taps against the linoleum floor until Kay sets your coffee on the table, and her arched brow makes you stop.

“So, do I know him?”

You roll your eyes. “This isn’t a date, you know.”

“Well, you’ll eventually knock over the table if you don’t stop bouncing your leg.” It’s honestly a miracle that you haven’t yet.

The glare you give her ensues a little smirk across her red-stained lips. “Whatever. Aren’t you supposed to be working instead of harassing customers?”

“What a way to talk to your friend,” she huffs in mock indignance. "Is it that guy you met at the grocery store last week?"

You make a face. "That guy was like sixty, with grandchildren.”

"Fine, fine. Is it that stuffy library aide?"

"No⎯"

“I mean, he didn’t even join us for Friendsgiving last year. Didn’t he make the excuse that his cat hopped onto the subway?”

“That did happen. We spent two hours helping him, remember?”

Kay purses her lips. "I'm only looking out for you. What if this guy turns out to be a total weirdo?"

"He’s definitely not a weirdo."

At least, you don’t think he is.

"And how am I supposed to know that?"

“You don’t need to because I’m only tutoring him like I’ve told you four times now.”

“So, if it’s not a date, then why don’t I get to know?”

She leans against the table, tapping her newly manicured nails against the wood—waiting. For such a seemingly unimposing person, she really is persistent.

“Okay,” you say, and Kay smiles. “I’ll tell you. But no more questions.”

“No more questions. Promise.” She runs an imaginary zipper across her mouth for emphasis.

You sigh and admit, “he’s a guy in my calc class.”

“Okay…” She nods, encouraging you to continue without going against her word.

“His name’s Atsumu—”

Her eyes become comically round, and she says almost too loudly, “Atsumu?”

“Shh.” You whip your head around to make sure nobody heard her. “Could you be any louder?”

“Are you talking about—”

“Yes, yes. Now, no more questions—”

You hear someone clear their throat behind Kay—the thought, oh fuck, passes through your brain like someone just pulled the proverbial rug out from under you. Because there’s Atsumu, hair damp and falling onto his forehead messily, but there nonetheless.

His smile is easy, charming.

“Sorry, I’m late.” He tugs the strap of his backpack further up his shoulder. “Practice ran longer than I expected.”

“No…It’s—It’s fine,” you choke out.

When he pulls out the chair beside yours, you feel your heart begin to pound, and you pretend not to notice how Kay winks at you over his head as she walks away with his order.

You clear your throat, trying to stop feeling so fluttery. “Do you have the worksheet I sent?”

Your stomach keeps giving this weird knee-jerk reaction every time his arm brushes against yours. It’s on accident, obviously.

Obviously.

Because he’ll give you an apologetic smile—not that he can fix how broad he is—and ask you to walk him through the next question, only for him to bump into you again several seconds later.

“Good. Now drop the zero,” you hear yourself say from very far away, your finger trailing across Atsumu’s paper. It’s a good thing, you think, that these assignments are basically muscle memory at this point.

“Like this?”

A little shiver runs up your spine with his voice so close to your ear. It reminds you of things you shouldn’t be thinking about in a room full of people.

“Yeah,” you breathe, adjusting your glasses on your nose. “That’s perfect. I think you should be good for Friday. How do you feel about everything?”

“Better than yesterday. Yer pretty good at this.”

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, ignoring how that crumb of praise sends butterflies swarming in your chest. “Thanks.”

Atsumu smiles. “If I pass, I’ll get you free tickets to my next game. Ya know, as a thank you.”

“Can you even do that?”

You can’t stop the giggle that slips out, and he turns to look at you. An expression trickles across his face, one you can’t place, but it passes just as quickly as it comes before he says, “probably not, but I’ll buy them, so they’ll technically be free. For you, anyway.”

“Technically.” You slip your laptop into your backpack. “But not.”

“You’ll go, though, right?”

The way he says it makes you stop packing up the papers on the table and glance over at him. He eyes you, mouth twitching, gaze hopeful.

It makes you warm to him—more than you already have—and a second later, you’re saying, “sure.”

A smile slides across his face, and you don’t even realize that’s the nth one he’s given you today—because you once thought they’d never be for girls like you.

And yet…

And yet.

Of course, Kay pries as she ought to about any trace of gossip, but you only give her half-truths. In a way, it makes you feel better about lying to your best friend.

“How long have you known him?”

Since the start of the semester. Although, you didn’t really know him until recently.

“I didn’t know you talked to the Miya Atsumu.”

We don’t. Not in person, anyway.

“He seemed to like you, though.”

He’s nice to everyone. Which, to be fair, you don’t really know. You’re just working under the assumption that he is since you sometimes spot him around campus talking to everyone.

“Did you know he’s packing? If you know what I mean.”

No. Yes.

“Did you get his number?”

No.

“Why not?”

Because I’m the tutor…Because you already have it.

“What’re you going to do once you’re not tutoring him anymore?”

I don’t…You don’t know.

Will you always want to be the faceless girl over the phone?

Eventually, that won’t be enough. Something inside you recognizes that with a dreadful certainty. Soon, Atsumu will want more—he’s already shown that from the pictures and video calls.

You’re just not ready to find out how it’ll unfold yet.

We won today.

The message comes as you’re getting ready for bed, and you smile, snuggling into your clean sheets.

I assume that means more parties.

Nah, not tonight.

Before you can reply, another message pops up on your screen. Well, actually, it’s a video, a bit grainy, but you can easily make out Atsumu’s hand palming the straining bulge in his underwear. And your stomach flips at the sound of his groan coming through your speaker.

But we can do other things to celebrate, comes the message right after the last.

It’s terribly cheesy, maybe even for him—the nerve-endings buzzing between your thighs don’t care, however.

You slip out of your underwear, kicking them to the foot of the bed, and then pull up your shirt until it’s bunched underneath your breasts. The flash of your camera is bright, but you’re less worried about that as you make sure the angle is right before you take the picture.

There’s no message attached when you send it, but you bite your lip, giddy and floaty, as you watch his text bubble pop up and disappear several times.

Fuck, sweetheart. You’re such a little tease.

The next picture is of your hand laying low on your stomach, close to where you’re wet and aching but not touching.

He calls you immediately after, and you answer on the first ring. “You wanna hear me play with my cock. That it? Then you’ll show me those pretty tits, huh?”

You stifle the needy sound you were about to make. “Please.”

The sound of him stroking his cock is loud and sinful in your ear, enough to make your hand drift between your thighs to touch your clit and the relief has you hissing between clenched teeth.

“F-fuck. If you were here right now…”

“Tell me,” you whisper.

He tells you how he’d trap your wrists with your shirt and suck on your perfect tits. See if he can make you cum just from that. You’re pretty sure you can—if it’s him. You moan just thinking about it, and he tells you how he’s going to stuff you full with his cock. How he knows your soft, wet cunt can take it.

How he’s going to fill you with cum until you’re dripping—

You cum with a barely muffled cry, hips bucking into your hand and your mouth parting with a soundless moan. One that only you can hear bouncing around boundlessly inside your head on repeat.

Atsumu. Atsumu. Atsumu.

Class ends earlier that day since Professor Ackbar spends the last few minutes handing back tests from last Friday, and you get halfway down the hallway before you hear someone calling your name. You stop midstep because you’d recognize that voice anywhere, and you turn to find Atsumu jogging toward you.

“You dropped this.” He holds out your pen.

This is the third time he’s talked to you outside of class, and each time your heart feels like it’s trying to compete with how fast it races from the time before.

“Oh, thanks—”

Two things happen in a matter of seconds. A group of students coming out of statistics across the hall shoves you and Atsumu together, incidentally forcing him to crowd you against the wall. You watch his face shift between a kaleidoscope of expressions—most of them you can’t quite decipher—until it finally settles into something neutral again.

Meanwhile, you’re still staring up at him, open-mouthed and breathless, swaying slightly on your feet.

He rubs the back of his neck, his mouth opening and closing like he can’t decide what to say. For a second, you think he’ll drop it and walk away before he says: “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” you mumble, fixing your glasses that fell. “It wasn’t your fault.

“And, uh, here are those tickets I promised.” He pulls two tickets from his pocket and hands them to you. “The other one is for your friend, or uh, if you want to bring someone else.”

You swallow, curious as to how much he spent on them. “Oh, you didn’t have to, you know.”

Color tints the high points of his face. “It’s no problem, really.”

“Well…thank you.”

He pauses, watching you put the tickets into your coat pocket. “Would you want to go to my fraternity’s party tonight?”

You think you’re holding your breath—you feel dizzy, faintly out of yourself.

Did he really—

No.

But he’s staring at you insistently, his eyes roaming over your flushed face.

You swear you can picture Kay squealing and making lewd gestures, nudging your shoulder encouragingly to do something for yourself for once. To take risks, to take chances until you finally say—

“Okay.”

#atsumu smut #atsumu x reader #hq smut #why is this shadowbanned omg #no wonder i couldnt find it even tho i'm in the taglist :(#op this is so worth the wait!#its so good huhu i always love a slowburn #pls pls im excited for how this ends #the balance between fluff and smut is immaculate

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