My face and body are absolute perfection. Every detail of my face is flawlessly sculpted to be breathtakingly beautiful. My skin is smooth, radiant, and glowing. My eyes are, captivating, with an absolutely perfect shape. My lips are full and perfectly shaped, complementing my features. Every inch of my face is absolutely mesmerizing, and people can’t help but admire me wherever I go. My face is unforgettable, and everyone is in awe of how beautiful I am.
My body is a work of art. It’s exactly how I want it. Every curve is perfectly placed, and my proportions are flawless. I feel incredible in my body, and it’s impossible not to notice how stunning I look. I feel like I could conquer anything with my dream body because it’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. Every part of me is symmetrical and balanced, creating the most visually pleasing figure.
I’m the girl everyone wants to look like, the one who stands out in any crowd. My beauty is undeniable, and people are constantly drawn to me because of how perfect I look. Whether it’s my flawless face, my perfectly sculpted body, or my radiant energy, I’m the complete package. I can feel the admiration in the air, and I know that I am the ideal of beauty. Every time I look in the mirror, I see the dream version of myself. My features are exactly how I want them, and I feel amazing in my skin. I know I’m the standard of beauty, and I have everything I’ve always dreamed of. My body and face are exactly what I deserve, and I own them. I am stunning, and no one can compare to me. Everyone admires my beauty, and I’m impossible to forget.
englishman in new york pisses me off so bad you’re not an alien you’re not a legal alien sting you’re an anglophone in the anglosphere nobody cares that you drink tea instead of coffee oh my god
when the blind man shows frankenstein’s creature the pleasures of life he shows him cigarette and music. notice how he doesn’t show him linkedin and email
came to drop a cute ghost wishing happy pride!!! :D also giving a donut, i hope you have a nice day and smile at this too!!! sending lots of love and positive vibes <3
contents/warnings: fwb dynamic, fluff, heavy on angst, suggestive but sfw, reader uses she/her prns, referred to as girlfriend, wife, reader has minor social anxiety
when i said this, i was referring to this
--
Of course it’d be the one time you say yes to the many invitations you get from Hinata to celebrate a post-game win with his teammates and other close friends.
Even though you’ve met a handful of Hinata’s volleyball friends and teammates before, the prospect of being in an enclosed space with people you don’t know still makes you anxious. You pay a bit closer attention to your outfit before heading out.
A 15-minute commute and one deep breath at the door later, you’re sat next to Hinata at the table as he introduces you to the rest of his current Black Jackals teammates.
“You know Kageyama and my old high school teammates already. That’s Bokuto-”
“Hey!”
“That’s Sakusa-san,”
A silent nod.
“Hoshiumi-san,”
“Hello.”
“And Miya Atsumu-kun, our setter.”
“Hi,” you nod shyly to everyone. The immediate halt in the conversation leaves you feeling like you need to bust out a joke or something. Luckily, everyone quickly turns their attention back to the menu, leaving you to catch your breath even though all you’ve done was say a one-syllable greeting.
You spend much of the first half of dinner talking only to Hinata, racking your brain for topics for small talk, and speaking up only when you’ve been talked to first.
A few drinks help loosen you up a bit and dinner ends without a hitch before the group decides to move to a nearby bar.
You’re content to watch the group and their antics quietly, before excusing yourself to get another drink at the bar.
“‘Scuse me.”
“”Oh,” you say, shying away from the voice. “I’ll move over.”
“Thanks,” the unfamiliar voice responds.
You stand awkwardly at the bar as you and the stranger try to flag down the bartender. You feel the prickly sensation of a stare at the side of your face and when you glance over, you find the stranger’s gaze on you.
You give him an uncomfortable smile, before averting your eyes again.
“Busy night, huh?”
You glance at him again, giving him one nod of acknowledgement.
“What’cha drinking?”
“Oh, uh… just a beer, I think.”
“Yeah? What kind?”
“Uh… I don’t know. Just whatever,” you say, hoping he takes the hint.
“Can I make a suggestion then? What do you usually like to drink?”
You glance back towards your group and accidentally make eye contact with Miya Atsumu, the setter you had met at dinner. He looks away just as quickly.
You close your eyes in defeat before turning back to the bar, being careful not to make eye contact with the man beside you. “No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
He inches closer, arm almost touching yours now. “Aww, c’mon. Just tell me. It’ll be on me.”
You lean further away, the back of your thighs now pressing against the bar chair behind you. “I-”
“Hey! Gettin’ another drink?”
The said bar chair suddenly gets yanked away, leaving you stumbling back a few steps, but a hand comes up on your shoulder to steady you. You look up to see Miya Atsumu. He places one arm between you and the other man, angling his body to face you.
“Oh! Atsumu. Yes, I am,” you can’t contain the relief in your exhale.
You notice Atsumu inching backwards to give you more space and simultaneously box out the other guy. His back pushes into the other guy’s arm, who gives a weak protest.
Atsumu looks behind him and offers a flippant, “sorry, buddy,” before flagging the bartender down with no issues.
“Another beer for me and…” Atsumu looks to you.
“Make it two.”
The two of you stand side by side while the bartender fills up the mugs and you rack your brain for things to say.
“Sorry if I was bein’ a busybody,” Atsumu speaks first. “Just didn’t look like you were enjoyin’ it.”
He juts a thumb behind his back to gesture at the guy, now a distance away.
“Oh yeah- I mean, no. Uh, thanks. Yeah…”
Atsumu laughs. “No worries and… there’s no need to be nervous around the guys. We’re a rowdy bunch, but all good people, I promise.”
You pick at your fingers. “Was I that obvious?”
“Little bit,” he chuckles. “Seems that the drinks are loosenin’ you up a bit though.” He gestures at the glass that the bartender dropped off in front of him and hands his card over.
“I can pay…”
“Nah, on me. You can take the next one if you feel bad.”
You thank him and take the glass.
Atsumu sits down on one of the bar chairs facing you. “So, how do you know Shoyo-kun?”
Still standing, your eyes flicker to your group, still huddled around the same table where you left them.
“Are…” we not going back? The question dies on your tongue when you turn back to Atsumu and see the way he stares, eyebrows raised as if he knows what you’re thinking and curious as to what decision you’ll make.
You sit down in the bar chair next to him and he’s so easy to talk to and one thing leads to another and before you know it, you end up in his bed later that night.
–
You wake up the next morning with foreign sheets tangled around your legs and an unfamiliar body warmth under your cheek. When you tilt your head up, you're met with Atsumu’s brown eyes. He’s awake and blinking lazily down at you, one arm still wrapped around your waist.
It’s instinct, the way you look back down, embarrassed at having been caught and shy despite the state of your undress.
A raspy chuckle shakes from his chest where you have one palm flat against as your brain awakens its overthinking engine.
You have no experience with hooking up with strangers, but he wouldn’t be looking for a no-strings attached type situation if he’s cuddling you in the morning, right? Or maybe you should’ve left last night?
But at the same time, isn’t poor etiquette to kick your partner out of bed the second you’re done? So maybe he’s just being polite by letting you crash here? And the cuddling, as comfortable as it is, is just him being a decent man?
“Hey,” his gentle voice shakes you from your thoughts, one finger coming below your chin to meet his eyes. “Good mornin’”
“Morning,” you mumble demurely, eyes desperately looking anywhere but him, even as he holds your face close.
He drops a light kiss on your lips. “Last night was great. You feelin’ okay?”
Your legs twitch in response. You belatedly realize that your legs are pushed between his. “A little sore, but I’m okay.”
“Good. Wanna take a shower and we can talk over breakfast?”
“‘Mkay.”
You reluctantly take your legs back, relishing the last bit of his body heat, but Atsumu has other ideas. In one sweeping motion, he flips his duvet off and tosses you over his shoulder.
“Atsumu!”
He gives your thighs a pat before walking you over to the bathroom. You thank every god out there that you had some sense to pull your panties and one of his shirts on before passing out.
He drops you off on the toilet seat. “Use anything you want. Fresh towels are in that drawer. There should be a new toothbrush under the sink.”
“I could’ve walked myself.”
He presses another kiss to your lips, the contact making you realize you’ve been pouting. “I know. Take your time, darlin’.”
You make sure the door clicks shut behind him before you grab a fresh towel, hold it tight against your face and scream into the abyss.
–
A hot shower revives you. The ache between your legs stays but the hot water helped, so you wobble your way to the kitchen. Two plates of toast and eggs sit on the dining table already as you watch Atsumu fill up a glass of water. When he sees you, he gestures for you to sit.
“Hey, how was the shower?”
You give your own body a once over before frowning at him. “I could’ve worn my clothes from yesterday.”
A clean t-shirt was sitting folded for you on the toilet seat when you came out of the shower, so that’s all you were wearing over yesterday’s underwear.
“And can you put on a shirt?” you add.
He grins. You’re already getting used to seeing that expression on him. “Why? Am I distractin’ you? And in case you forgot, you spilled water all over yourself at the bar yesterday, so your clothes are still wet.”
“We should’ve put them in the dryer or at least hung them up last night…”
He walks over to you and pulls you towards the dining table. You let him coax you into a chair. “Well, we were a bit preoccupied when we got inside, yeah?”
“Whatever…” you deflect, jabbing at the scrambled eggs on your plate.
“So…” he starts, after putting the dishes in the sink and refusing your attempts to clean up. “About last night.”
You tense up, clenching your fists.
“I had a really good time and I really enjoyed talking to you.”
Enjoyed, past tense. A part of you relaxes. At least you know the general direction he wanted to take this in.
“Me too,” you respond.
“And I don’t wanna give you the wrong idea, but I’m not looking for a committed relationship right now. I need to focus on volleyball and I mean, you’re Shoyo-kun’s friend, so I don’t want that to be weird either.”
You nod. “I get it.”
He looks startled at your easy response. “Really?”
“Yeah. I really enjoyed talking to you too, but I’m not expecting us to start dating or anything.”
He blinks.
“Why do you look so surprised?” you ask, wondering if you should be offended by the reaction.
“It’s not that I’m surprised. Well,I guess I am a bit. You don’t really seem like the type who’s used to casual hook ups.”
“Excuse me?”
“I just mean-”
You laugh. “I know what you mean. I’m just playing with you.” He relaxes a bit. “You’re right. I don’t really do this,” you gesture between the two of you, “often. But like you said, I think we both really enjoyed each others’ company and we can leave it at that.”
“Okay, then.”
“Yep.”
An awkward breath passes before he speaks up again. “I hung your clothes up to dry earlier this morning. They should be good now.”
You’re not positive that he means it this way, but you take the hint anyway. “Thanks. I’ll get changed and get going.”
He gets up after you. “Can I walk you back?”
You put a hand out to keep some distance between you two. “Atsumu. I think I can manage.”
He smiles, unsure, but nods anyway.
At the door, he opens his arms and you file in robotically, giving him a loose hug before saying goodbye.
You feel slightly bad at the obvious distance you were putting between the two of you, and you’re sure Atsumu can pick up on it, but it’d be far better to make things a little awkward than to let him get any closer than he already has in just one night.
–
It takes another afterparty hosted by Hinata for you to see him again. You had kind of figured that the unspoken rule was that if neither of you reached out, it really meant nothing. Even though the two of you never exchanged numbers or social media, you’d be lying if you didn’t have a little hope that he’d ask someone for your social and DM you. But days, weeks, went by with your messages and DMs dry, so you packed up your foolish hopes and chucked them to the furthest corner of your brain.
This time, the gathering is hosted at Bokuto’s beautiful lofty apartment, fully furnished with a modern kitchen, balcony overlooking Tokyo, and massive living area.
Even though you know pretty much all the attendees today, it doesn’t keep you from feeling a bit nauseous on the elevator ride up. Once again, at the front door, you raise your finger to press on the doorbell, pausing to take a deep breath before pushing the button.
When the door swings open, the loud chatter of the inside makes it clear that this was not the small gathering you were expecting. The apartment is packed with people, many of whom you don’t recognize.
“Hey! You made it!”
“Welcome to my place!”
Hinata and Bokuto, with one arm around each other, greet you loudly at the door.
You awkwardly push your gift of red bean mochi in front of you. “I’m so sorry… I thought it was going to be a small thing, so I only brought a pack of 12.”
Bokuto laughs heartily, plucking the gift from your hands. “This is great! Akaashi loves red bean mochi, so thanks! We’ll just keep it to our close friends instead of sharing it with the entire party,” he winks at you.
Hinata grabs your arm and ushers you to the kitchen area, which is slightly less packed than the living room and balcony. “Are you drinking tonight?”
“Yep, I’ll have something.”
He produces a can of beer and pops the tab for you.
“Lemme introduce you to some of the people here. You already know the usual Karasuno alum. You met most of my current BJ teammates last time. Oh, yeah,” he interrupts himself. “What happened to you last time by the way? We were all at the bar and then I don’t really remember seeing you go home at some point.”
Not seeing any particular reason to keep it a secret, you tell him about going home with his setter.
“Ah.” Hinata says.
“What?” you ask warily. “Maybe… has Atsumu asked about me?”
Hinata shakes his head. “No, not really?”
You scowl. “Then why’d you say ‘ah’ like that?”
“Did I? My bad!”
You roll your eyes, having momentarily forgotten that your friend hardly thinks about much else other than volleyball.
He introduces you to some other people, mostly other volleyball players before dropping you off at the kitchen since you said you needed another drink.
“You sure you’re going to be alright on your own?”
You try to smile reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. Go have fun.”
He leaves, so you busy yourself rummaging through the fridge for another drink. When you find nothing of interest, you look around the room, eyeing what people have in their drinks. The longer you spend looking around without a drink in your hand and in your own company in the crowded room, the more you feel out of place. With that, you grab the first unopened drink on the counter and snake your way through the crowd in search of a familiar face.
And it just so happens that the first familiar face you find is Atsumu.
“Hey, stranger,” he says easily to you.
“I’m not the one who’s a stranger,” you blurt out the first quippy line you could think of.
His eyes widen. “What-”
“It’s just a joke.” you cut him off. “I didn’t mean it in any special way.”
He doesn’t buy it, expression sobering up quickly. “Didn’t sound like a joke to me.”
You scramble for words, your social anxiety not helping. “I really just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. You know I get really nervous at these group things…”
He stares at you. A couple of seconds go by and you contemplate just turning around and walking away to mourn your social ineptitude somewhere private. But Atsumu breaks out in a small smile.
“You were pretty nervous at that time, huh?”
“Exactly!” you eagerly add on. “Atsumu, I really didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I believe you. But…”
You stiffen.
“Wouldn’t blame you if you meant it in a special way. I hear I’m pretty unforgettable.”
You punch him in the arm.
He laughs good-naturedly and offers a crooked arm. “Another drink?”
You look down to see your bottle empty. You take his arm and let him lead you to another drink which turns into four.
Atsumu’s presence is massive and it makes meeting new people easier. He introduces you (as Hinata’s childhood friend, of course) to new people, resting a heavy arm over your shoulder as he gets more drinks in his system.
The gesture doesn’t alarm you. After all, men who are interested in someone would put an arm around your waist, right? Friends do shoulders, just like how Hintata and Bokuto had greeted you at the door.
But just like last time, he melts your worries away and before long, the two of you are giggling into each others lips and sneaking out to go do something other than talk.
–
And it happens again, and again, and again. Before you know it, every single dinner, afterparty, night out becomes an opportunity for the two of you to get together. You always somehow find yourselves all alone where you always talk for hours and enjoy each others’ company too much, and fail to resist the temptation of falling into bed together. And each morning, you wake up, act like lovers until breakfast, before parting ways to radio silence until the next time.
Your mutual count of offenses gets into the double digits before you really realize you’re in hot water.
–
The next time it happens, it’s when Hinata invites you to watch an official game. You show up wearing a plain black top to show your support for the Jackals. As you settle into the seats Hinata offers up to you and some ex-teammates, he spots your group and gives you his usual sunny smile.
The rest of his team notices you and now that you’ve met them a couple of times, a natural smile comes easier when you meet each of their eyes. When your gaze finally falls upon Atsumu, he gives you a silly grin, not unlike the one you’re getting used to seeing over breakfast, and holds his fingers up in a corny heart. You roll your eyes playfully and he clutches his heart dramatically in response.
A giggle escapes your lips, keeping a ghost of a smile on your lips until Tsukishima, who decided to join you to watch the game, catches you with one eyebrow raised.
“What?” you ask defensively.
“Nothing.”
From there, you make sure to keep your expressions reigned in. Sure, your eyes may follow him a bit more than any other player, but that’s not something to read into. He’s the setter, after all. They touch the ball the most so it only makes sense that anyone watching the game would watch him the most.
The Jackals end up losing in the close third set. You meet the players outside afterwards to tell them it was a great game and when the group emerges, it’s sans the setter. Mustering up a reassuring smile, you give each one of them a hug before sneaking away back to the gym to check up on the one you’re most concerned about.
After your first hookup with Atsumu, he had told you that volleyball was the reason he couldn’t be in a committed relationship at the moment. To anyone, that would have sounded like an excuse. But after getting to know him more, you could tell he really meant it. So it’s not a surprise to you when you find him still on the court, practicing serves even when his eyes are rimmed red.
“Atsumu,” you call out.
He jumps and slams another serve, as if he hadn’t heard you.
“Atsumu,” you say a bit louder.
You step closer and closer, taking tentative steps until you’re right behind him. As he picks up another ball, you put your hand on his arm to stop him.
“Atsumu,” you say softly.
He doesn’t shake you off so you take the chance to pry the ball out of his hand, letting it bounce to the ground as you circle around to face him. His eyes stayed glued to the floor, fists clenched. You bring your fingers to his, lightly uncurling them from where they make angry crescent imprints in his palm. When his hands relent, you let them fall limply back to his side before pulling him in for a hug. It only takes one second of hesitation before he returns the embrace fiercely, crushing you against him. You swear you can feel a dampness on your shoulder that isn’t sweat.
“You need to rest,’ you whisper.
He nods, letting you guide him home, where something in him seems to snap. His hands and lips are all over you even in the hallway of his buildings and it leaves you with barely enough sanity to dig his keys out of his gym bag to unlock the door before he takes you against the door, on his couch, and one last time in bed. Maybe you imagined the “thank you” he whispers to you before you pass out cold.
It’s sometime in the middle of the night when you come to, somewhere between awake and asleep. You stir to the sensation of Atsumu’s fingers brushing against the crown of your head.
“Hey sleepy,” you hear him murmur.
You hear yourself make some incoherent noise, curling your body closer into the warmth of his body.
“You awake?”
“No.”
He chuckles. “Up for another round?”
“‘Tsumu… I’m tired.”
“I like you calling me that.”
You open one eye. “‘Tsumu?”
“Yeah,” he says before leaning down and kissing you. It’s not a close lipped, innocent kiss that he often gives you the morning after. It’s languid but still urgent. You can feel your reservations slipping away. He slips a warm palm under your shirt and as he ghosts over your stomach, ribcage, then higher.
There’s something intensely intimate about the way he touches you tonight: his forehead pressed to yours, vocal in the way he insists that you keep your eyes open. That intimacy fills your insides with something warm, and at the same time, dangerously hot. It trips some sort of alarm in your mind, but all your reservations fly out the window as he starts to move. You can’t think.
Definitely not when he keeps kissing you up until the moment you fall asleep and you fade away to the feeling of his lips pressed to yours.
–
For one of the first times ever, you wake up dreading the morning-after routine with Atsumu. Because this one feels different. The way he says good morning with a lazy smile, the way he strokes your forehead, the way he stares when you stretch, the way he carries you like a princess to the bathroom.
By the time it’s time for you to make your exit, you’re convinced he feels it too. His stares linger too long, too hot to be casual. He says goodbye with a longing that is hard for even you, in all your inexperience, to ignore.
And you have to know.
You turn back right as you’re leaving. “Atsumu.”
“What happened to ‘Tsumu?” he teases.
“Can I come watch your next game?”
“Hm? ‘Course you can. Shoyo-kun usually gets you tickets right?”
You test the waters: something subtle but gets the message across.
“Would it be okay if I wore your jersey?”
His laughing stops abruptly.
If he laughs it off and makes a joke about you joining his army of fans, you’d take the hint. This would still be casual and you’d need to re-rectify your barriers. But if by chance…
He looks at you for a long, excruciating moment, before offering a small, shuttered smile.
You tense up. It’s not the answer you wanted, but you always knew there was a chance this would happen anyway. You’re just grateful you waited until it was time to leave before bringing it up.
“No… I don’t think you should.”
That takes you by surprise.
“I mean, I don’t want our friends to think that-”
“That what?” you bite back with a bit more aggression that you wanted.
Atsumu stands up straight from where he was leaning lazily in the doorway. A quiet, but stern calling of your name snaps you out of whatever reverie you’ve been in for the past couple of months. “I thought we both agreed that this was a casual thing. It goes without saying that I don’t want our friends to think we’re together. That would only complicate things.”
Complicate? You want to scoff. As if being the outlet for his frustration last night wasn’t complicating things already. As if every kiss and touch from just a couple hours ago wasn’t complicating everything.
But, you take a breath, composing yourself.
“Right, sorry. I just wanted to… let you know I’m here for you. Like last night.” you bite out.
He winces slightly.
“See you around, Atsumu.”
He doesn’t stop you when you walk off. In fact, everything remains the same. No texts, no calls, no messages.
Today I’ve been admiring my official Studio Ghibli museum/park cel art reproduction collection which lives in its boxes to keep them brand new of course 😁 and considering if i should list it on eBay to be able to afford more life stuff 🤣🤣🤣
i must not nap. nap is the work killer. nap is the little death that brings total obliteration. i will face my eepiness. i will permit it to pass over me and through me. and when it has gone past i will turn the inner eye to see its path. where the eepy has gone there will be nothing. only i will remain.
won't beef with people younger than me because that's embarrassing for me. won't beef with people older than me because that's embarrassing for them. won't beef with people my age because i know we both have better shit to be doing. peace and lovr on planet earth
