Only Human | Msby 4

only human | msby 4

genre: fluff, comfort

wordcount: 1.3k

warnings: descriptions of depression and its physical symptoms

a/n: this is a work I'm salvaging from my OLD blog that I recently deleted. I really loved it and couldn't bear to have it gone forever so I'm posting it here. I am the original author!!!

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The second you walk through the door of the gym the day after msby had lost a tournament, the team knows something is wrong. You're their light, you keep them sane, you are usually the one taking care of them. The recent loss is hard on everyone and you're sent into full stress mode. Your mental health problems are no secret but no one on the team expects you to take the blame, considering yourself a distraction to them. Hinata's big brother instincts kick in and he starts to give up portions of his lunch so you eat something. Sakusa spends more time fussing over everyone's health and paying extra attention to you, Atsumu constantly tries to bring a smile to everyone's faces and Bokuto is the clingiest he's ever been. Everyone seems to get closer to each other in this troubled time, except for you.

You begin to push them away, you stop annoying Sakusa into paying you attention and rambling his ear off, You stop hanging off of Bokuto and showering him in affection, you start to brush Atsumu off of you when he leans in for a hug and when you walk through the exit of the refurbished gym with an uncharacteristically empty expression,they all knew something was up.

This corpse-like feeling hits you out of nowhere and you don't want to burden your family with your problems. It's not that you don't want to tell them and confide in them, it's that you can't; your 'inner demons' are so loud screaming constant reminders of your insignificance and how little people care for you. Whenever you see your boys the only thing you can think of is how much you're probably irritating them. Carrying around these demons is becoming frustrating.

You lock yourself away in your room for days. Thinking it's better that you can't burden them. You're flipping from one side to the other and contemplating whether or not peeing is worth getting up when you hear a few knocks at your door. They're loud and make a recognisable rhythm but they aren't frantic. Atsumu. It's not soft enough to be Sakusa or frantic enough to be Hinata. You're closer to Bokuto than the other boys, so he has a key.

"Y/N open up sweetie, please, you're killing us here"

us?

"Yeah! We love you Y/N, please let us in" Hinata's sweet voice rings through your house. You can't find the will to go to the toilet let alone the will to go all the way downstairs to let them in. Turns out, it isn't necessary as the lock clicks and your door swings open.

"Y/N!" Bokuto's voice momentarily distracts you from the physical pain. No one talks about the physical effects of depression; the headaches and stomach pains from dehydration, the dizziness from fatigue, the muscle aches and stiffness from not using them. It's agony. You hear several sets of heavy footsteps up your staircase and hear someone rummaging around in your bathroom cabinet. Sakusa. They had all come, your boys all cared enough to come and help. You can't hold back the tears anymore, your choked sob alerts them to your whereabouts. You're lifted up and placed in the warm lap of who you assume is Bokuto.

"Let it all out Y/N" says Sakusa. He sounds off, like he doesn't really know what to say. It's now that you have a form of relief that your attention is really brought to the physical pains you're feeling. You have a tendency in this state to ignore your body in favour of torturing your mind.

"my legs hurt... and my shoulders" you hum, curling up tighter to Bokuto who immediately starts to rub your shoulders. You hear more footsteps cross the threshold of your bedroom.

"hey y/n, we brought you some water and tsumu brought you some light food that'll be easier to keep down." Hinata's voice is soft and careful, a complete one eighty from his usual tone, It almost sets off the waterworks again. Another pang of pain in your stomach alerts you to the fact that you haven't gone to the bathroom in two days and you desperately need it. You wrestle with your conflict for a while, ultimately deciding it would be less embarrassing to ask for help than piss yourself on Bokuto's lap.

"can you help me?" you murmur, your voice is so quiet but they're paying so much attention to you that they never could have missed it. All of them hum or nod in response. "can one of you help me to the bathroom?"

For a moment youre irrationally scared that they're going to laugh or ignore you but they all seem deadly serious. Even Atsumu, who is first to offer you a hand. Bokuto helps you stabilize as you get up from his lap and you grab Atsumus arm. Atsumu helps you walk to the bathroom and holds the door open so that you can waddle your way to the toilet and shakily push your volleyball shorts down. Atsumu lets a few tears slip while you're in the bathroom. Atsumu has always been an emotional person and god did he hate that right now. He doesn’t want you to think you had upset him, you don't need that right now. He tries to pull himself together while you're busy trying to lean over and put pressure on the right spot for you to actually go.

When you're finsihed, Atsumu helps you walk back to the bedroom where Bokuto and the others are waiting. Bokuto looks scared, this was the quietest hes ever been around you. You lean into him as he goes back to massaging your aching muscles. You bury your face into his neck and mumble a thank you. You dont realise Hinata left the room until he comes back.

" I, uh, I ran you a bath"

"Kou?" you ask against his skin Bokuto hums in reply, still not really talking. He's over emotional, you know that. Seeing his best friend in this state is painful. "Can you help me".

He doesn't answer, instead getting up with you firmly in his arms and carrying you into the bathroom. He helps you strip down per your own request and basically lifts you into the tub. He uses the opportunity to continue working on your sore muscles as this time he can get to them properly. You let out an appreciative noise as he works out the tension in your shoulders. He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, a show of affection that you don't think much of. Bokuto has always stirred up particular feelings inside you but you gather that he doesn't feel that way towards you. You wonder what would happen if you confessed but you're snapped out of a potential downward spiral by Bokuto himself.

"I love you Y/N and it hurts to see you like this. I had no idea how bad it was, I'm sorry I let you go through this. I will fight all of your shitty feelings from now on so that they can't hurt you." You chuckle at the image of Bokuto trying to physically fight your emotions. You feel two arms wrap around your shoulders and squeeze you a little. Bokuto returns to massaging shampoo into your hair and puts all his focus onto taking care of you.

When you finish, Bokuto helps you dry off and change. He's respectful, being careful not to touch you anywhere that could be deemed inappropriate and apologised afterward for seeing you naked. He doesn't need to apologise though, you trust him not to be a creep. Bokuto guides you to your living room, being extra patient with you, and sits you on the couch where Hinata and Atsumu are setting food on the coffee table for you. Sakusa has gotten painkillers to ease your muscle pains and headaches and offers to help you clean your room. You eat what was given to you and settle back on the couch in between Atsumu and Bokuto, both of whom cuddle into you.

"You can talk about it y'know. We all love and care for you" says Atsumu patting your leg and kissing the top of your head.

Maybe, just maybe, it will all be okay.

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(𝟏) 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

ও rating. explicit

ও summary. you get your first caller, and can't tell why he sounds so familiar...until you do. | wc. 2k+

cw/ tw. college au. nerd!reader, volleyball player Atsumu, phone sex, dirty talk, praise kink, reader wears glasses (but it’s only mentioned in one line), pet names (ex. sweetheart)

ও featuring. Atsumu x Fem!Reader 

ও an. this is my self-indulgent birthday fic, enjoy:) | series m. list

Being the class tutor is pretty straightforward. The only problem is trying not to fall asleep in the middle of Professor Akbar’s monotone voice going over the lesson. 

Most of the time, you simply have to sit there and listen instead of rushing to copy the notes on the slides that he only keeps on the screen for a split second.

Except, recently, all your attention shifts from the screen to the blonde head of wavy hair (slightly tousled from a hand running through it, you think) sitting three seats in front of you.

It’s almost habitual now how your eyes travel up from your notebook every time you hear him walking into the lecture hall—always talking or laughing loudly with the guy beside him. 

Bokuto…? You can’t remember.

But. Still.

You’re not the only one that notices either because it’s the Atsumu Miya—local all-star volleyball player and resident of the most popular fraternity on campus. 

His presence practically demands an audience anytime he’s in the room with his too-long legs that barely fit under his desk and broad shoulders that seem to fill out all of his tops. Sometimes you wonder if he purposefully buys them smaller.

The girls in front of him turn in their seats, their girlish giggles traveling up the risers when he asks for a pencil. A crooked smile curls the corners of his mouth, one that softens around his eyes, and you wonder if he’d ever do the same to you.

Not that it matters.

He’d have to talk to you first for that to happen.

There’s this constant urge to keep glancing from your textbook to your phone, almost like you expect it to light up on reflex, but instead, it lays there black-screened and silent. Sighing, you flop back onto your bed and tiredly cover your face with your hands.

What your best friend, Kay, told you that morning still riggles at the back of your mind, an opportunity to make some extra money, she’d said—and part of you is still reeling that she talked you into doing something so…crazy. Because it definitely is.

And not quite what you had in mind.

Thankfully it’s legal. Well, that’s what Kay told you, and she usually doesn’t lie.

“All you have to do is talk to them. Dirty talk your way into a cushy paycheck. Just, ya know, don’t give them your name.”

You had rolled your eyes at the lack of further explanation, not that you expected her to spell out how to have phone sex with total strangers, but you can’t deny that it’s an easy job—especially with your tutoring hours. And you do need the extra money. 

All you have to do is get people off with your voice and then…and then hang up? 

Easy.

You hope.

What if they don’t like how you sound?

God. When was the last time you even had spontaneous phone sex with somebody?

A computer science major, Brad…maybe? The memory is a little fuzzy—not that you believe there was anything memorable about that night or Brad…

Your phone vibrates against your bed, squashing that pitiful thought to dust, and your stomach lurches up into your throat. You swallow around the lump, staring at the bright, cracked screen and unknown number for a moment longer than you need to before you finally answer.

It’s not until you bring your phone up to your ear that you realize you don’t know how to start what is bound to be the oddest exchange of your life—all of the hours spent pep-talking yourself into doing this, that you can get someone to cum from your voice, now reduced to white noise. 

And maybe a slightly choked sound that you hope they didn’t hear.

Just when you’re about to open your mouth to say something (anything), they, or rather, he, speaks first, stifling the words on the back of your tongue. And for a split moment, you can’t help but think that you know that voice, or (if nothing else) it sounds familiar. 

"Is this real?" 

“Um,” you clear your throat, unsure if you heard him correctly. "Excuse me?" 

"I just wondered if this would be automated or real." 

"Uh, no. I'm…I’m real," you tell him slowly. “Breathing and very much human or whatever.”

The laugh that comes through your speaker is breathy and low—a pleasant sound that lingers in your ear and makes you feel warm. "Nice to know,” he says. “So, what should I call you?" 

Right, no names; you forgot about that part.

You think for a moment. "Call me whatever you want." 

"Okay…sweetheart. Is that okay?" 

“Yeah, that’s—” your voice squeaks embarrassingly “—that’s okay.”

“Good, good,” he pauses, “so…what’re you wearing?”

You can’t help but laugh lightly. “I thought I’m the one who’s supposed to ask you that?”

“Yeah, but something tells me I’m going to like your answer.”

Oh…well, that’s—

You bite your lip, glancing down at your faded t-shirt, and consider lying. It’s not like he’d know. 

And yet you indulge him anyway.

“A t-shirt.”

He hums. “That’s it?”

“And underwear.”

“Good girl.” You can hear the smile in his voice, how pleased he is, which does nothing to slow down your racing heart, already beating a steady staccato against your chest because you don’t think anyone has ever called you good. 

At least not like this.

And you’re compelled to find out what it’ll take for him to say it again.

On Monday morning, you won’t pretend that you don’t try to pick out who could be the mystery caller and hope you just might come across him—even though the odds of that ever happening are low because it can be anyone. The campus is pretty big, after all.

Plus, what would you do if you did happen to find out who it is? Thank him? He’d probably think you’re crazy. 

As if the situation couldn’t get any more humiliating.

Money gets sent into your cash app later that day while you’re in the middle of browsing the meager selection of microwavable foods at the convenience store—because your landlord refuses to fix your broken oven until you meet him in his office to discuss your lease, apparently. 

He’s kind of slimy like that, and you can’t wait for the day you can finally move out.

The numbers that glare back at you are big and bold, enough to get someone to fix your oven and maybe buy lunch from that new cafe you always walk past on your way home. At first, you feel like it’s a mistake, perhaps a glitch with the app, but nope, the cut that Kay promised stays on your screen. Bright and promising.

Okay, maybe this odd job isn’t that humiliating, you think as you leave the convenience store to get dinner that’s not bland and soggy for once.

He calls back again later that week. And again. And again. 

For awhile, it’s only once a week until it becomes every Monday and Friday, precisely fifteen minutes after nine. You’re more than ready for him now that you know what will come after, that he’ll make you cum—even if the concept of doing so with a stranger is still pretty daunting. 

But you think you've found a rhythm: one where he leads, and you’re more than eager to follow. 

You almost thought he’d be bored of you by now. After all, you’re supposed to be the one giving, not benefiting. Still, it doesn’t deter the fact that he sounds so good when he’s telling you what to do—what he wants to do to you.

And you think you’d let him.

If only.

“—come on, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

“It feels good,” your breath hitches in your throat with the swipe of your finger over the slick bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

“Yeah?” he sighs. “That little clit is pretty sensitive, huh? I bet your needy cunt is making a mess.”

You gulp, squirming slightly. “Mhm.”

“Lemme hear it.”

It’s hard not to get flustered about how he likes hearing how wet you are for him, how it must be loud and clear against his ear. And yet, he asks you to do it, begs, really. Every. Single. Time. So that he knows you’re feeling good.

That’s what he tells you anyway.

You move your phone close to where your hand works aimlessly against your cunt, skin slippery beneath your fingers. The sounds are so filthy that you blush and hide your face in the crook of your arm even though he can’t see you.

“You sound so hot when you play with yourself,” he says, his voice dropping to something that makes your stomach do a series of somersaults. “You’re probably aching, huh?”

You have to swallow twice just to hiss out a pitiful “yeah.”

“Fuck,” he growls, and if you strain hard enough, you think you can hear the sound of skin on skin as he strokes his cock. 

But you don’t get to ask because he’s talking again.

“I wish I could see how you look when you do. I bet you look so fucking pretty sprawled out on your bed, thighs trembling from all the times I’ve made you cum,” his breath shudders, and you can tell he’s close. “What I would give to lick your pussy right now. You’re probably sweet.”

His admission should scare you because just imagining him in your room, watching, would make this more real than it’s supposed to be.

It doesn’t.

Instead, you cum harder than you have in weeks.

“So, how are you liking the job?” Kay asks one weekend, a limp french fry hanging between her fingers.

You leave out all the dirty details and settle with “it’s fine.”

You’re not sure why, but it feels almost…private?

It’s probably the safer thing to say anyway, not how you’ve been fantasizing about a faceless stranger on the nights you need to take the edge off. She’s a little too nosy for that, eventually piecing things together and asking questions you don’t feel like answering.

And honestly, you don’t really want to talk about the phone sex business you work for while sitting in the middle of a family restaurant.

You take a loud sip of your milkshake through your colorful bendy straw, listening as Kay changes the topic to the cute guy in her Literature Arts class who asked her out on a date.

“Can you believe that his parents are both celebrity surgeons?”

“Nope,” you tell her before stealing one of her fries.

It’s on a regular, rather boring, Thursday lecture that you discover why his voice sounded so familiar, where your center of gravity shifts and everything seems to tilt on its head. 

You’re in the middle of talking to Professor Akbar about midterms when Atsumu Miya accidentally bumps into you as he’s leaving the classroom, barely taking a moment to say, “oh shit, sorry,” before running down the crowded hallway towards the athletics building. 

There’s a split moment where you think you stop breathing, your vision growing hazy around the edges, and your lungs burning.

You can only blink through your now crooked glasses, standing in the way of the students trying to get to class, because you know how the words “oh shit” sound after he cums. How he grunts filthy praises under his breath to help push you over the edge, how a shiver races up your spine when he tells you you’re a good girl—

And it’s that crucial moment that you decide you’re fucked.

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Sleeping together for the first time

Sakusa

Being in a relationship with Sakusa meant going slowly. He wasn’t used to being in a serious relationship, the most that he has done is being on dates before, so you were more than understanding when it comes to him getting used to all this.

Over the time he became much more comfortable with your touch, which rapidly turn into him becoming clingier with you. He goes to your house every time his practice is over, only wanting to lay down with you after dealing with his annoying teammates.

“…and then Miya had the nerve to tell ME that I should do better when HE was the one setting lower”

“Are you kidding? He blamed you when it was on him? Unbelievable” you say caressing his head. It was a late Friday when he arrived, he was lying on your chest while you were on your bed, him telling you all the gossip about his day.

“I know right! So annoying” he mumbles squishing his cheek against your chest even more. After a few minutes enjoying each other presence, he sighs before lifting his head slightly “I guess I gotta go now, it’s really late already”

“Do you have to? You should stay”

“I love you, you know that, but I don’t feel like sleeping on the couch darling”

“Who said anything about the couch? Just sleep here, you’re warm”

He felt his cheeks grow hot while opening his eyes. Why does it have this much effect on him sleeping in the same place as you? It’s not that different from cuddling, so why his heart started to beat like crazy? He turns around still holding you, so now you are the one on his chest, an attempt to hide his flustered state.

“You’re just using me for my cuddles” he says kissing the top of your head

“Absolutely” you smile at his heart beat “So, you staying?”

“Sure”

The next morning Kiyoomi wakes up with him completely wrap around your body. He definitely enjoys waking up like this more.

Kuroo

You were hanging out in Kuroo’s house after his practice ended; he had invited you and Kenma for a movie night like you three usually do. You were friends with the two of them before Kuroo and you started dating on your third years, Kenma being the cupid between you two.

It was late when the movie was over. Since Kenma lives besides him, he left as soon as the movie was over, while he loves the both of you, he can’t stand seeing your couple-ly things.

You two decided to cuddle for a while before you had to leave, but you were so caught up talking and enjoying each other presence that you didn’t notice how fast the time passed.

“Shit! It’s 11 pm, I need to go” you say looking at his clock, trying to stand up while he grabs your waist

“I don't think I’m comfortable letting you so late, it’s way dangerous now” he says pulling you closer

“Then what do I do?”

“You can stay here, go and have a shower while I'll tell our families in the meantime” he kiss your cheek before standing up towards the door. You went to take a quick shower before coming back, finding some Kuroo’s clothes in his bed so you could change.

A few minutes after he comes into his room, a small snack on hand “Here, I already told your mom”

“Thanks” he sat by your side, continuing joking around as you finish eating you're snack. After some minutes talking you finally let out a yawn, which was enough for Kuroo to stop everything he was doing

“Okay princess, time to sleep” he makes you stand up to open his bed, taking some pillows and throwing them to the floor “you’re sleeping in my bed, I’ll take the floor”

“What…? Why?”

“I'm not letting you sleep in the floor, so I'll take it”

“But…”

“But nothing” he flicks your forehead “Go to sleep princess, I'll be fine”

You lay down on his bed, slightly guilty about the fact that he was sleeping in the uncomfortable couch. You tried to fall asleep, but his constant tossing around made you even more guilty that you already feel. After some minutes you couldn’t handle it anymore

“Tetsu? You awake?” you whisper

“Yeah, what's up love?”

“Come here” you just lift the blankets up while Kuroo looks at you with wide eyes “you clearly aren't comfortable there”

“Are you sure? I don't want to make you uncomfortable with me there”

“Its okay, it'll be like cuddle” he stands up, coming to you carefully, entering the bed with you. He immediately pulls you into his chest, you immediately cuddling into him. But he enjoys waking up with you in his arms way more now.

|| N A V I G A T I O N ||

About me

Helluu cutiees! <3

You guys can call me Eva and my pronouns are she/her. 

I am 21 years old and in my third year of university. I am studying Psychology and english literature. Uni sucks and is difficult but if I graduate I want to work with children in the future. 

I am a brown fic writer and write for Obey me the otome game though thats on a bit of a hiatus because I haven’t been able to keep up with the game since all the new stuff happened. 

Recently I have begun writing for Haikyuu and I absolutely love it. I have too many favourites but some are Tsukishima, Iwaizumi, Mattsun, Osamu, Atsumu, Suna, Sakusa, Ushijima, Bokuto - this was in no particular order. I love all of them too much.

I speak 5 languages; English, Hindi, French, Japanese and Punjabi. 

Thats it for now! I am always happy to talk to people though I don’t actively use my direct messaging but I love hearing from you guys through the ask box so fire away! 

Also now that the prompt list is up request away!!

Request rules

- Please read this carefully for both requesting fics and also taglists!

Prompt list 1

- For now there is only one but its miscellaneous but its made up of hurt/comfort prompts

Masterlist (Obey me!)

- On a bit of a hiatus because I haven’t been able to keep up with the game but I should be updating it soon

Masterlist (Haikyuu!)

- ongoing and as most will tell you the most anticipated fic right now is the second part to taken for granted part 2

🫦🫦 hello tumblr

(𝟏) 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

ও rating. explicit

ও summary. after weeks of phone calls, you get to know Atsumu, which makes pretending a little more difficult. | wc. 2.3k+

cw/ tw. college au. nerd!reader, volleyball player Atsumu, phone sex, video sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, reader wears glasses, pet names (ex. sweetheart, baby)

ও featuring. Atsumu x Fem!Reader

ও an. I want to start by saying thank you for the wonderful response to the first chapter and this series! It’s more than I expected for this self-indulgent fic:’) It motivated me to get this chapter out earlier than I anticipated, so enjoy! Also thank you @sookisaurus for brainstorming with me T^T | series m. list

You get absolutely nothing done for the remainder of the afternoon, simply staring blankly at the study sheets you promised Professor Ackbar you’d have finished before Monday—slow-burning mortification only slightly mollified by stress and the lack of sleep. 

At least there’s that.

On the bright side, you don’t have to face Atsumu until class next Tuesday, which is enough time to come up with a solution.

Not that he’d even be aware of his pivotal shift in your life.

But he can’t know, for your sake, more than his.

The reasoning behind it is pretty reasonable; at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself while you’ve been brimming with internal panic. Because what if Atsumu doesn’t like what he sees once he finds out you’re the girl on the other end of the phone? What if you don’t match up to whatever picture he’s painted of you in his head?

Which is equally devastating as it is likely. 

Or worse yet. 

You don’t believe he would stoop so low, but what if he makes fun of you or tells people you work for a sex hotline on campus?

You’d die, you think. Maybe not literally, but deep-core embarrassment could come relatively close.

Then there’s that small voice in the back of your head that suggests: but what if he does? Like you, that is. 

Obviously, that’s only wishful thinking. Nobody goes out of their way to talk to the know-it-all who sits by herself at the back of the class, not unless it’s regarding homework or study hours—including Atsumu, who hasn’t done either.

You groan, head falling into your arms folded over your desk. These study sheets are never getting done.

By the time Atsumu calls again, exactly nine days after the incident (that’s what you’ve called it), you resolve to act like it never happened. Which turns out to be more difficult than you thought because now there's a face to the voice you've been listening to for weeks, and better yet, it's the guy you have a big fat crush on. 

So when you answer the phone, you sit there, saying nothing. Jaw working, swallowing around the desert that is now your mouth.

“Hello?”

Again, your lips move, but no sound can be pulled from your throat.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Sorry, I was, um—” you eventually say, barely above a squeak, trying to devise an actually believable excuse “—studying.”

He hums, almost like he isn’t convinced, but he doesn’t question it. “Hey, can we just…talk tonight?”

Your mouth falls open. “Are you sure? That you want to talk, I mean,” you babble. “You wouldn’t be getting your money’s worth and—”

“I want to.”

To say that you’re taken aback by this sudden change of events is putting it lightly, and it’s the second time Atsumu has left your entire being shifted on its axis in the span of a week. Because did he really just pay you (not that his call alone gives you much) solely to talk?

After a moment of hesitation, you relent. “Okay.” And then the sound of car horns on his end makes your brows furrow curiously. “Are you outside?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m walking home.”

“Oh?” You’re unsure how much you can ask, yet he tells you anyway.

“My fraternity is celebrating its fiftieth anniversary or whatever, and I had to go. It’s honestly just an excuse to get shit-faced.”

“Oh,” you say again. 

You’re surprised that he would relay this bit of information to someone he shouldn’t. Of course, this isn’t news to you, but still, you covet it like you’re learning about it for the first time. 

“Aren’t the parties supposed to be, you know, the best part about a fraternity?”

He huffs out a small laugh. “They start to feel the same after you’ve been to a few. Maybe I’ll take you to one sometime.”

He’s joking, clearly. 

Clearly.

Although, your body doesn’t seem to get the memo as your stomach swoops, resembling that feeling you get whenever you go down that first drop on a roller-coaster.

You clear your throat. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“So, what is your thing?”

“Besides working for a sex hotline?”

You’re pretty sure he’s smiling when he says, “yeah.”

“I don’t know,” you pick at a loose thread on your shirt. “I like to read and work on research projects, I guess.” 

Atsumu makes a noise that almost resembles a snort. “I didn’t know I was talking to a little nerd.” 

Embarrassment swallows you whole, and suddenly you wish you could eat your words. God, how could you sound so lame? Of course, he wouldn’t find this attractive—

“I think it’s cute,” he offers before you try to take what you said back or sputter out a lie to make yourself sound more interesting.

You purse your lips and huff out a breath to hopefully hide any residual nerves from your voice. “Well, what about you? What do you do for fun?”

“Other than talk to you?”

A furious blush spreads across your face. “Sure.”

“Hm, I like to play sports.”

Volleyball. You know this.

The rest of your conversation goes back and forth like this—him asking random questions and you revealing that you’ve read ‘1984’’ several times, well twice…semantics—until he lets you know he’s home. You think this is probably the part where you should hang up. Only…you don’t. Neither does he, and you faintly hear keys jingling, followed by a door opening and closing.

“You know…” you pause because you shouldn’t say what you’re about to say. 

It’s bad enough that you already know who he is. It’s bad enough that you offer anyway.

Your mouth starts moving, and words are spilling out before you can properly think them through. “You don’t have to pay me if you need someone to talk to, er, like regular talking, not…well, you know, what we normally do.” 

At his continued silence, you start to panic, your hand shakily gripping your phone a little tighter.

“Only if you want to! I mean, that was stupid to suggest, right? Giving someone your phone number that you hardly know because—”

“I’d like that.”

“...Okay.” 

It’s hard to say how long the silly smile stays on your face after he hangs up, but you can’t be bothered in any capacity to know for sure. Just that your cheeks are a little sore right before you go to bed.

You’ve decided that giving Atsumu your phone number doesn’t turn out to be entirely a bad idea.

He’s actually easier to talk to like this. Aside from the side of him you’ve gotten to know quite intimately. But it’s nice, you find, learning about other sides of him too. 

The first time he messages you, it’s as you are walking through the supermarket with Kay, looking for something to make for your bi-weekly movie nights.

Pineapple on pizza. Yes or no?

You bite your lip, trying unsuccessfully to hold back a grin.

Yes.

His response is almost immediate.

I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that because I like you.

“Are you smiling at your phone?”

You jerk your head up as Kay makes her way toward you to throw an avocado in your basket.

“No,” you lie, locking your phone before she can see the screen.

She arches a brow, skeptical and nosy in that way Kay can often be, before tossing two limes into your basket—the topic obviously shelved until she can prod you about it later.

Hopefully, she forgets.

He talks to you about random things, innocent things, until one day, he sends you a message with an image attached to it that makes you stumble up the last step to your floor.

Because on your screen is a picture of Atsumu—well, half of him—posing shirtless in front of what is clearly a gym mirror, a sheen of sweat covering long stretches of tan muscle. Worst of all, the hand not holding his phone skims the waistband of his black shorts, as if he’d been about to edge beneath them. 

And just below that—

Oh.

You’re still staring at your phone when you accidentally bump into Miss Rosa from the apartment across the hall. The older woman hardly likes you, although you’re pretty sure she doesn’t like anyone, and no amount of apologizing erases the glare from her face until you’re safely inside your apartment.

He still calls you, though it’s no longer through the hotline, and there are no longer nerve-wracking expectations hanging over your head. Not that you think there ever were in the first place.

Except for tonight, it’s different.

He’s more earnest than usual, uninhibited.

"Can we try something? Please—Fuck." 

It takes a moment for the words to sink in.

Surely, he doesn’t mean—

"I really want to see you. Can I?"

"I…I don't know…" you stammer, shocked at what Atsumu obviously feels comfortable suggesting—that he wants more than the phone calls. Where he can see you. Right here, on your bed, surrounded by books and your laptop, with your hand working your sticky-wet clit. 

"We don't have to show each other's faces if you don't want to," he tells you hurriedly. "S-shit, I'm sorry if this sounds perverted, but I want to watch you touch yourself. It's all I can think about."

You swallow so loudly that he can probably hear it.

As he said, he doesn’t have to see your face, and you can keep this thing between you anonymous. So it’s fine, really.

Really.

You tell yourself this as you prop your phone against the textbooks lying on your bed, as you shimmy up your sheets, so you’re leaning against your headboard and clutching your t-shirt a little tighter than you need to between your fingers.

Then you turn your camera on, ensuring your face isn’t visible, while your heart flutters wildly.

Though you don’t have to wait long for his screen to turn on, too, and the first thought that flies through your head is that he’s…big. Just like the rest of him. 

You actually feel your clit throb watching him wrap a large hand around his cock where it lays heavy and twitching against his stomach—a tiny pearl of pre-cum dripping down the side that he smooths away with his thumb. It’s flushed red from base to tip and roped with angry-looking veins that make it seem almost intimidating.

Almost, if not for how your cunt clenches shamelessly, just thinking about how he’d have to get you all soft and pliant to help make it fit or that there’d be this dull ache you’d feel between your legs after.

And yes, you think, it’s much better than the gym short impression that you swore you merely peeked at the other day.

“Fuck,” he grinds out, his chest heaving as he takes you in. “Fuck. You’re so fucking pretty, just like I knew you’d be.”

The words make your ears burn, your voice hitching in your chest when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Spread your little pussy,” he pleads. “Lemme see.”

You move your shirt out of the way before slipping two fingers over your slick folds, sock-covered toes digging into your comforter as you reveal your achy-hot clit to the cool air in your bedroom. 

“Just like that. You’re so good, baby.” His fist strokes his cock, stopping with every upstroke to squeeze around the tip. “So good.”

A noise escapes you at the praise, some awful little hiccup that catches on the back of your tongue when you subtly grind against the heel of your palm. It’s unfulfilling, just shy of not enough, your heartbeat throbbing in your pussy.

Maybe if you—

Your fingers start moving before he can tell you to.

“O-oh,” you stammer as you rub quick, right circles into your clit. It’s different from all of the times you’ve done this before. To do it while he’s watching, seeing as his cock jumps in his hand at the soft, breathy moans you can’t hold in with your fingers working desperately between your legs. And you watch Atumu’s adam’s apple bob when he groans, the sound of it making you squirm needily against your hand.

“That’s it, good girl,” his cock slides through his fist a little faster. “Now, stretch that pretty little pussy for me.”

“Shit,” you hiss, “shit,” and your walls tighten around the two fingers you slip inside (easy with how wet you are), fluttering, pulling them deeper, wishing they were thicker.

“Hey, you’re that girl from class, the tutor, right?”

Your eyes instantly flit up from the notes you were working on to find Atsumu leaning against the chair in front of you, and you think your heart starts palpitating.

“Yep,” you squeak, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. “That’s me.”

The smile he gives you is disarming, bright and wide, with a hint of a dimple on one cheek. “I was wondering if you could help me with the test we have on Friday since I have practice all week.”

“Um, yeah,” you manage to say, subconsciously pushing your glasses up that slipped down your nose. “I’m free tomorrow around noon. Does the campus Brew Stop work?”

“Yeah, thanks. I owe ya one.”

You want to tell him that this is your job, that he doesn’t owe you anything. Instead, your gaze is drawn to the book he’s holding while walking away.

‘1984.’

The one you mentioned…It makes something inside you feel warm and fuzzy, and not for the second time will you have to explain to Professor Ackbar why you were late finishing the work he gave you.