there were few men like miya atsumu: a man who described himself as a jack of most trades, master of setting, and your sexy ass boyfriend'. a man who believed in having staring contests whenever you tried to welcome his twin into your shared home, a man who never minded the stares from people in the park as he made you splash in puddles with him after the rain, a man who has seen mascara running down your face on your worst nights, a man who kissed every inch of skin he could, who constantly looks for more excuses to kiss you and touch you and keep you to himself.
atsumu knew nothing better than you, with volleyball being that exception. but volleyball wasn't like you: full of life, full of sunshine, full of the ups and downs that he would help you through. volleyball was a commitment, but you were a different commitment.
it was one of the rare days he had off, seeing you off with a kiss on the cheek that was followed by several more until he was finally waved off. cook, clean, take care of whatever stresses he could. an easy job for once, atsumu's eyes glued to the clock and to his phone. it was lonely being home without you, and he missed your presence.
but the second you walked in the door, shoulders heaving and breath heavy, he knew something was wrong. stress, or that was what he fully believed was wrong. heavy footsteps only brought you to the table, where his culinary creation stolen from osamu was waiting for dinner. atsumu's lips dipped into a frown as he watched you plop in the seat, his brain already moving a mile a minute. could he?
"tsumu, what are yo-" you didn't need an answer when he was on his knees in front of you, gently lifting up one leg to hoist over his shoulder and a hand resting on the other ankle. you could feel his hot breath on your thighs, the skirt inching up towards your hips. "tsumu, i wanna eat," you whine, hoping for the slightest bit of mercy.
"i gotta eat my meal too, babe." not the most comfortable position, but atsumu doesn't care, his eyes glued on your clothed pussy. a hand goes to push the skirt up, his nose brushing against the soft cotton and a heavy breath taking in the scent. he loved every inch of you, and he hadn't kissed you here in a couple of days. his tongue worked on the fabric, happy to let you wiggle and complain. there was nothing he wanted more than to stay here for as long as he needed, to eat you out until his face was wet.
there were only breathy moans and shudders between the complaints, finding escaping hard between the chair and atsumu's body. but there was no escaping, not when the panties were finally pushed aside and warm lips were on your clit. it was instinct to grab for atsumu's hair, to tug and feel the vibrations of his moan against your pussy. it was getting wetter, and whether it was from your own arousal or atsumu's tongue being put to work, you were far more concerned with rocking your hips to the rhythm, your head falling back and your grip on the blonde hair tightening.
atsumu loved this side of you, when you took some control. and he didn't mind the mess on his face, his tongue and fingers working together. always a bit of pressure on your swollen clit, something working at your tight hole, occasionally a hand to keep your hips in place. his own moans covered up some of yours, but his favorite moment was when you finally came, thighs squeezing around his head as he sucked on your oversensitive clit, feeling the wetness coat his face and your heel digging into his back.
the man didn't bother getting up from his knees until he declared your pussy clean enough, ignoring the shakes in your body. he rests his head on your thigh, his tongue slowly licking over his wet lips to get his final taste of your cream. god, dessert before dinner truly was the best. "how you feelin', babe?"
you could only give him a nod, trying to ignore your hot face and the tingle left in your pussy. his fingers were still so teasingly close, and it would be easy for him to plunge them him. "f-fine, tsumu," you stutter, trying to avoid his eyes. that cocky look
