Part of Kiyoomi’s pre-game ritual is to meditate while she completes her wrist exercises. Unfortunately, the equipment sponsor for this tournament is more concerned about pretty visuals and lights than the science of ergonomics. Hours on their mouse and keyboard will be killer on her wrists, so she needs to take meticulous care to exercise now to alleviate the pain later.
Or at least, she’s trying as best as she can to meditate when she’s surrounded by the perpetually overexcited Hinata and Bokuto, who are practically vibrating in their seats. They have their Bluetooth headphones on, completely absorbed in some video on Hinata’s phone. It’s bad enough that they’re more keyed up than usual, but now for some inexplicable reason, Inunaki has also joined them in their excitement.
Barnes and Adriah are just watching the clown show in amusement, clearly willing to let the trio go wild by themselves, while Meian is dead asleep.
“Hnng, she can step on me—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Kiyoomi exclaims, standing up and throwing her hands up in exasperation. “What are you guys even watching?! I swear to god if it’s porn— Might I remind you, two of you have boyfriends, one of whom is only two doors down!”
“Yeah, and we’re watching his live interview!” Hinata says, either unbothered or oblivious to Kiyoomi’s irritation. Given his general disposition and word on the streets, it’s likely the latter. Although this is Hinata’s first year in the professional VABO league, he’s not at all new to the esports scene. He was in the amateur circle when VABO first launched and became friends with a couple, if not most, of the current professional players in the league. It’s a small world, especially when she found out Hinata’s dating the Adlers’ Kageyama.
“Tsu-chan’s hosting a pre-game interview with Adlers!” Bokuto adds, and that actually explains so much. Kiyoomi leans over just in time to see to streamer TSUMU wave to camera before it cuts to an ad break.
Boys. She rolls in her eyes at the dumb trio, because of course, they’d be this predictable. Atsumu is easily the most viewed streamer right now with her no-nonsense approach to gaming and the rude remarks she occasionally makes about other players. The internet hasn’t decided whether they love or hate her, but she’s raking in all the views and sponsorships anyway.
She’s polarising: half her fans think she needs to get into esports because she’s actually good at games, whereas the other half can’t get enough of the drama she stirs. For gaming idiots like Bokuto and Hinata with only VBA in their heads, Atsumu’s a queen. And well, Inunaki’s just a simp because she winked at him once, and he swears they made a connection.
“I’m so jealous he got to meet her!” Hinata whines. “She’s so pretty! Why don’t we have interviews too?”
“We literally just finished ours with Yamamoto-san half an hour ago,” Adriah points out, and thank god, at least someone still has their heads on their shoulders here.
“She’s prettier in person! She played with the rest of SETTV in last year’s exhibition tournament, and the whole team got to say hi to her,” Inunaki says.
“Her hair looks so soft, and they’re even softer in person!” Bokuto adds, fervently nodding in agreement.
At that, Kiyoomi can’t help but scoff. “Her hair is bleached to death. How is that in any way soft?”
“Ignore her, Hinata,” Inunaki says. “Sakusa doesn’t get along with Tsumu.”
Hinata gasps, “I thought those rumours were fake! Didn’t you make up already? You’re always wearing the limited edition version 1 of her scrunchie merch!”
Kiyoomi’s a little stunned at the amount of detail Hinata apparently knows about Atsumu’s merch line. He’s a bigger fan than she thought, and that’s more than a little disconcerting to learn about a teammate.
“It’s PR. She got in trouble with Management and was forced to make nice,” Barnes quips, laughing at the memory.
Their first meeting last year truly was a disaster of epic proportions. Kiyoomi had just signed with the Black Jackals that year, and a number of their fans kicked up a fuss about it. Officially, they say it’s because she’s a rookie (despite winning the collegiate MVP title for years), but really, everyone knew it was because she was the first female player the team’s ever signed. It took months of peak performance and driving up her kill share rate and DPM stats before the fans stopped dragging her name online.
These are the same fans that flood Atsumu’s chats with donos and subs, calling for her to join the professional league because she’s apparently such a good gamer, even though Kiyoomi had consistently better stats even when she was only playing at the collegiate level.
It’s a touchy subject, so when Atsumu creamed her in the exhibition match, she was more than a little upset, and it showed in the media interviews when all she had to say about her were snide remarks. She'll be the first to admit it wasn’t her best moment.
In her defence, Atsumu hit back just as hard and arguably said nastier things, but all her white knights went wild on their keyboards that evening. Their PR manager had to issue a statement and forced Kiyoomi to make appearances on Atsumu’s streams and play games with her until the storm passed.
Barnes was wrong about one thing, however. The only reason Kiyoomi has the scrunchie in the first place is because she lost to Atsumu’s kill-death ratio by a couple of points at the end of their forced collaboration. Atsumu mailed her the limited edition scrunchie so Kiyoomi could model for and advertise her new merch line. If they think she’s wearing it out of the goodness of her heart and not because she lost a second time, then that’s not her problem.
“But you’re friends now, right?!” Hinata asks, looking alarmingly manic now. “Can you introduce me to her?! I’m her biggest fan! I’ll never survive knowing I was close enough to breathe the same air but never met her.”
Kiyoomi rolls her eyes and plops back onto her spot on the couch, pulling out her phone. If there’s one thing she learned from her girlfriend, it’s how to handle overexcited dumbasses by not getting drawn into their shenanigans, so they burn off their energy by themselves. Still, she shoots off a quick text. Let the records show Kiyoomi does do kind things for her teammates.
“…well, I think my complete collection of new merch should win over your handful of old merch,” Inunaki argues.
“You’re insane! These are collectors’ value! Straight in the packaging from the first batch ever. It’s proof I was her fan longer than you!” Hinata shoots back.
“That’s gatekeeping behaviour, Shouyou,” Inunaki berates, sagely. “I thought you were better than that.”
Bokuto nods in agreement, and Hinata looks at his self-proclaimed mentor in betrayal. “Bokuto-san! You agree with him?!”
“I dunno, my disciple, gatekeeping is pretty toxic…” he hums. Inunaki looks almost smug until he continues, “In any case, Keiji and I both have her original merch and new ones, so by both your standards, we have you beat. Let’s gooooo, power of love!”
“That’s cheating! If I add Kageyama’s stuff too, we’d be tied!” Hinata cries.
“Two-income households aren’t welcome in this league!” Inunaki snaps at them both.
“Well, there’s two of us and one of you, so maybe you’re the odd one—hgnfkcls!”
Kiyoomi tuned out most of their conversation, but the inhuman noise Hinata just made startled her back into awareness. Even the dozing Meian snaps to attention and looks at the door of their holding room where Atsumu herself pops in and approaches them.
“I hear you’re my biggest fan?” Atsumu asks, winking at her.
Kiyoomi rolls her eyes and jerks a thumb at her panicked teammate. “You’re looking for this idiot.”
“Hmm,” Atsumu says, giving Hinata a once-over. “I’m more into the glare you into submission type, though.”
Hinata goes absolutely beet red and splutters for a while before Atsumu finally puts him out of his misery, laughing in good cheer. “I’m just messin’ with ya! I really appreciate yer support because I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my early fans. Maybe I can sign yer merch later... If I’m invited to your legendary post-match celebratory party?”
“See you there, then,” Inunaki says with an upward nod because his manual on how to play it cool and be manly is dated 2018.
“Oh, so sure we’re going to win?” Kiyoomi asks.
Atsumu grins at her and snakes an arm around her waist, giving her a quick peck on the lips.
Inunaki drops his phone.
Hinata looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe again because he’s turning purple.
Bokuto just looks very, very gleeful, like Christmas came early or Akaashi walked in wearing fishnet tights.
“My girlfriend’s number two on the leader boards,” Atsumu preens at her arrogantly. “I expect nothing less from her team!” Looking at her watch, she continues, “Well, I’m on in like 3 minutes, so I gotta run. I’ll take ya up on yer invite and see you guys in the afterparty then!”
She leaves as quickly as she arrives, leaving Kiyoomi to deal with the fallout and answer the dozen or so questions plastered on gobsmacked faces and dropped jaws.
Inunaki’s the first to recover. “What the fuck? I thought you hated her! What happened to ‘women need to have more self-respect' and ‘streaming is for after you fail at esports’?!” He scrunches up his brow in a terrible impression of the scowl Kiyoomi now wears.
“I was wrong,” she huffs, rolling her eyes.
“Oh my god,” Barnes says, cradling his head in his hands. “How long has this been going on? Were you dating under our noses the whole time?”
“We weren’t keeping it a secret,” Kiyoomi grumbles.
“I KNEW IT!” Bokuto finally explodes. “I knew the sakuatsu stans were onto something!”
Kiyoomi massages her temples at the mention of the name. Atsumu loves the fanart and fanvids, and her desktop wallpaper is even one of them decked out in their VABO heroes’ clothes. Kiyoomi’s been roped into several uncomfortable positions as Atsumu tries to recreate fanart poses, refusing to be dissuaded by things like anatomy or physics.
“B-But we had a connection…"
“Holy shit,” Adriah says, fist in one hand in a eureka moment. “She’s your roommate. She’s the roommate in all your stories!”
Understanding dawns on the whole team.
“Wait…” Meian abruptly says in horror. “So the random sex toy we found in your bag that you said was a prank from your roommate…"
Kiyoomi is spared from further embarrassment and interrogation when their manager enters the room to tell them they’ve got ten minutes before they’ll enter the arena. “Head in the game, boys. There’s no afterparty if we don’t win.”
Despite leaving them all dumbfounded and confused, they play an excellent game against RaijinJP, carrying their momentum over to their match with the Hornets before finally facing the Adlers in the finals. It was a close game, but the team’s synergy was so on point that the Adlers were already playing defence by mid-game.
Atsumu herself is on a roll today. “With half the game gone, there is half the game to go!” she announces and Oikawa next to her cackles.
Oikawa says, “There’s a fiery glow coming from Hoshiumi’s staff—is he about to cast a last-minute spell that’ll save the game?”
“No, Tooru, that’s his damage counter,” Atsumu quips, laughing. “Sakusa and Hinata have cornered Hoshiumi’s hero and are barraging him with— oh, and he’s dead.”
Five minutes before the match was set to end, their manager makes a call to the nearest izakaya to book a reservation for their afterparty. Atsumu says, “Kageyama looks like he’s on fire today, and that’s because he is, courtesy of one nasty shot from Bokuto Koutarou.”
With two minutes left to spare, the bookies were already paying out wins in favour of the Jackals. Atsumu texts, “That’s my girl <3”, and the crowd erupts into a cheer when the Black Jackals finally break the Adlers’ win streak and bag the championships.
“What the fuck. What the actual fuck. I’m stunned we won like that, but weirder things have actually happened today,” Inunaki says on the winner’s podium later.
“This isn’t the only thing I won!!” Bokuto laughs, nudging Kiyoomi, who’s too high on the win to care.
“We couldn’t have done it without our lucky Number 2 and new rookie here,” Barnes says, bringing Kiyoomi and Hinata into a headlock.
“And how will your team celebrate, Cap?” Oikawa asks, turning the mic to Meian.
“I’d say a signature Black Jackal's afterparty, but I think this one’s going to go down a little different,” he answers.
They get far, far drunker than anyone thought possible. Kiyoomi has to thank their manager’s forward-thinking in booking a private room because nothing here is safe for public consumption.
Briefly, Kageyama and Hoshiumi were there to congratulate them and took a couple of ribbing with good grace. They walked away with their team shirts covered in the Jackals’ signatures. Even Suna and Motoya came by to say hi, but she and Atsumu chased them off quickly enough. The less the team knew about all the dirt those two had on them, the better.
Merch were exchanged, and signatures were taken in a backdrop of body shots and misguided drinking games. Kiyoomi had hoped Meian would continue to be a voice of reason, but it seems he’s thrown all his misgivings and reservations out in light of their championship. Kiyoomi would blame him for how many spilled drinks landed themselves on her person if she weren’t in such a good mood herself.
Atsumu hasn’t left her side all night, even as the whole team congregated on them like vultures, and she’s eternally grateful for it because years in the public eye has made Atsumu a god at dodging questions she doesn’t want to answer.
When Bokuto asks, “Who confessed first?” Kiyoomi hums, and Atsumu winks, miming zipping her mouth.
“Does Sakusa know your natural hair colour?” She does, but she’s not telling, and Atsumu doesn’t feel the need to enlighten them either because she evades it with a quick, “Maybe? I’ve been pretty consistent with the touch-ups, so I don’t know.”
“Has Atsumu really never boiled water before?!” This one makes Kiyoomi laugh, and Atsumu didn’t need to pinch her cheeks to keep her quiet because she never planned to answer in the first place.
“Who has the bigger sex toy collection?” Someone from the back asks, and Kiyoomi bets her ergonomic gaming chair that’s Inunaki.
“Is this workplace harassment?” Kiyoomi says at the same time Atsumu cracks up, laughing. “Oh, you’d think it was me until ya see Omi’s—mmf!” She rubs her sore side where Kiyoomi pinched her and sticks her tongue out.
As the night goes on, Hinata gets plastered beyond belief, riding on the high of his first championship win and on his debut season too. He’s shamelessly switched into his TSUMU 2019 hoodie, which Atsumu gladly signs in gold sharpie. He’s also still doing shots with Bokuto at the bar despite the fact that half the shots he throws back end up in his nose. Hinata will learn come morning when the hangover hits like a ton of bricks that Bokuto has the constitution of an ox and shouldn’t be challenged in a drinking match, ever.
Inunaki is slumped over dead on the side, and Kiyoomi is kind enough to hook a plastic bag’s handles over his ears so the bag rests under his chin and he can barf into it in peace. Adriah is appointed his bag replacer and handler because he’s the only one who wasn’t drinking.
Kiyoomi’s arms are tightly wound around Atsumu’s waist, buzzed but still mostly sober. Atsumu has a deep flush going, and she sways every so often, but Kiyoomi won’t be fooled. Atsumu could probably outdrink Bokuto even on a bad day, so there’s no way she’s as drunk as she appears to be. Kiyoomi holds her close and props her upright anyway.
“So, how long exactly have you two been together?” Barnes asks, swirling his drink around.
Atsumu hums and shares a look with Kiyoomi before she answers, “Unofficially, a little more than half a year. Give or take. There’s no official date yet; we’re still hashing that out.”
Kiyoomi snorts into her shoulder. Months of causal sex and refusing to let the other know they were exclusive does complicate things a bit in terms of finding an official date.
“You’ve been keeping this a secret for half a year?! Sakusa, do I even know you?” Meian asks, aghast.
“It’s not a secret. I just didn’t feel the need to announce it to all of you,” she grumbles in response. Atsumu hums, contemplative, and Kiyoomi hugs her closer.
“So why are you telling us now? What changed?” Adriah asks, patting Inunaki’s back as the man heaves into the bag.
“Nothing. We were just all in the same event, and we literally drove here together,” she says, playing invisible piano keys on Atsumu’s inner thigh just because she can.
Inunaki jolts up suddenly, waving a hand in their general direction. “Sh-Shtop showin’ off—hurk—your happhy rela’shnshp to us sad single sods.”
“Hush, you. You’re going to dislodge the stupid bag. I’m not cleaning you up,” Adriah warns. “Don’t test me. I’ll actually leave you here.”
“You’ve never mentioned it on stream, though,” Bokuto says, approaching their table and lugging a passed out Hinata under his arm.
Atsumu snaps out of the zone Kiyoomi’s fingers put her in and answers a little dazedly, “Huh? Oh. Uhh, well, who would believe me if I said I was dating the Jackal’s Sakusa anyway? ‘Samu didn’t even believe me!”
“You guys could do those cute SO Q&As together! Kuroo says Kenma always gets a flood of new subs from those vids,” Bokuto says.
“Hmmm. It’s Omi-omi’s call,” she says slyly, sneaking a quick peek at Kiyoomi. “Whaddya say, Omi?”
Hinata chooses that moment to throw up all over Bokuto, who yelps but very kindly does not drop him. It says a lot about these afterparties that Bokuto’s developed a tolerance for barf and a kind bedside manner perfect for the wasted.
“Right. I think we’ll go— Adriah-san, can I borrow one of those bags?” Bokuto lays Hinata down on the booth while he strips off his outer shirt, stuffing it into the bag before calling for a ride. These two bowing out means it’s definitely time for the rest of them to pack it up.
Everyone shuffles out of the Izakaya, Meian paying an extra hefty sum for the chaos they must have left behind. Being one of the few people sober enough to stand on two feet, Kiyoomi and Atsumu wait for the rest to get their rides before they head home themselves.
Atsumu doesn’t bring it up on the way back, and she doesn’t bring it up when they prepare for bed. It lulls Kiyoomi into a false sense of security that she even forgets the topic was ever broached until she steps out of the shower and finds Atsumu waiting for her in the bed, clad in an oversized shirt and sleep shorts, looking like the cat that got the cream.
Kiyoomi stands frozen, fight or flight instincts warring with the knowledge that there’s no way Atsumu’s going to let this go.
She’s like a dog with a bone sometimes when it involves something she’s interested in. Kiyoomi should count herself lucky she falls under that category, but this is a conversation she’s skirted around for so long, it’s easier to just not talk about it. Someone more responsible ought to get it over with, however, and it pains her a little that that person is Atsumu right now.
“So, that went pretty well…” Atsumu starts, already sounding way too satisfied for Kiyoomi’s liking. “You liked showing me off, huh? Lil’ ole amateur me?”
“Oh, come off it. You know you’re good enough to go pro. You just can’t be bothered to keep up with our training,” Kiyoomi says, rolling her eyes. She has it on good authority that Atsumu’s been approached by several professional teams, mostly because she’s the one who takes in their mail.
She sits on her side of the bed, fully intending to sleep, but Atsumu hugs her from behind, snaking her arms around her waist and settling her chin on Kiyoomi’s shoulder. “So ya weren’t keeping us on the down-low because yer ashamed of me?”
Kiyoomi blinks at her, deadpan. “Are you fishing for compliments?” she asks, pinching Atsumu’s puffed out cheeks. “What would I even be ashamed of? That whole fiasco when we first met was entirely because you beat me. In any case, aren’t you the one with more a more volatile fanbase and a reputation to maintain?”
Atsumu starts unbuttoning Kiyoomi’s sleep dress and nosing at the sensitive spot behind her ear. She nips at the lobe and says, “Omi, you should know by now I don’t really give a shit if I lose fans. They’re not real fans if they have a problem with us.”
That was never something Kiyoomi worried about though. Atsumu’s always blunt and true to herself regardless of anyone’s expectations of her; it’s one of the reasons Kiyoomi continues to fall in love with her every day.
“And If they only want me because they think I’m single and available,” Atsumu tilts Kiyoomi’s chin to face her in time to see her leer and wiggle her eyebrows. “Then they’re perverts and maybe fucked in the head enough to stick around because my girlfriend’s fucking gorgeous, and we look damn good together.”
“It’s not that I was worried about either of those things—”
“Well, gee, thanks for caring about my career…”
“You know that’s now what I meant,” she growls, shoving Atsumu a little so she’d stop giggling. “Those were never of any concern to me either. My own career isn’t contingent on whether I’m single or not either because my value is in the way I play, not in whom or if I’m dating.”
Atsumu pulls her closer, so they’re facing each other now. “So why aren’t we telling people?”
“Didn’t we just tell my whole team?”
Atsumu makes a face at her and flicks her forehead. “Don’t get smart with me.” Then she cups Kiyoomi’s face and runs her thumb around her cheek. More gently, she says, “I don’t actually mind if we don’t tell people, Omi. I’m just curious about why you don’t want to, but if ya don’t wanna tell me, that’s fine.”
It’s really fucking unfair when Atsumu does this. She can be the most selfish and petty princess most of the year, but she’s also rudely considerate and understanding at the most inopportune times. It should be good manners for Atsumu to schedule these moments in her calendar first so she can prepare appropriately in advance.
As it stands, Kiyoomi can only groan and lets her head drop heavily on Atsumu’s shoulder in surrender. “I’m just a little greedy for you.”
“What?” Atsumu asks, sounding amused.
“I’m afraid the moment you open up about us, it’s going to open up the floodgates,” Kiyoomi says reluctantly, and it’s even more ridiculous now that she says it aloud. “They might feel entitled to more of you. Want more from you, about you— I don’t know. I like being the only person who knows you have a Vabo-chan plushie collection, or what your natural hair colour is, or that you suck at Catan even though you’re supposed to be good at resource management games. Look, I don’t know. I’m just greedy about you, Atsumu.”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Atsumu groans, pressing their lips together. “You can’t just say these things! It’s gonna give me a crisis! I don’t know if that’s turning me on or if I need to barf from the sap.”
Atsumu brings them back together into an open-mouthed kiss, tugging on her swollen lower lip as she quickly undoes the rest of Kiyoomi’s buttons. Her hands predictably gravitate to her chest, running her hands through the slope of them and giving a quick squeeze. Atsumu groans at the heft of it on her palms, groping and pushing them up to appreciate their weight before she gives any attention to her nipples.
Her breasts have never been that sensitive, but all the attention Atsumu showers it with flicked a switch in her brain. Whether they’re in the middle of sex, cuddling, or really any time they’re in private, one of Atsumu’s hands will be feeling up her breasts before long. She’s permanently associated soft hands lingering on the underside and greedy fingers splayed out to touch everything as an Atsumu Thing who in turn is a straight out of Kiyoomi’s fantasies thing.
Now she leans into Atsumu’s touch, bending her knee a little, so her thigh meets Atsumu’s hot centre and moaning at the throbbing wet desire she feels soaking through her shorts. Atsumu pushes back and shamelessly humps on it, letting Kiyoomi now just how much she wants her.
“You’re so fucking hot, Omi. Can’t believe you want me,” she says in between trailing butterfly kisses down her jaw and past her neck. She spares a few moments to suck a bruising kiss into her clavicle, and it feels so good that Kiyoomi briefly forgets the Black Jackals have more media interviews tomorrow and that a hickey will definitely peek through most of her shirts.
She only remembers when Atsumu moves on to kiss down her sternum, but the self-satisfied tug to her lips tells Kiyoomi that her girlfriend is well aware of her predicament. Pinching her ass, Kiyoomi growls, “You’re waking up early to help me cover that up.”
Atsumu hums noncommittally, too busy taking one of Kiyoomi’s nipples into her mouth and flicking the bud with a firm tongue in a way that Kiyoomi feels down to her throbbing core. She lets Atsumu have her way with her until she’s aching with need.
“I want to fuck your mouth,” she says, tilting Atsumu’s head up in time to see her pupils blow wide. She runs a thumb over Atsumu’s lower lip, shivering when they fall open so easily. She presses her thumb on Atsumu’s tongue and coos, “You’ll be a good girl and let me sit on your face, won’t you?”
Atsumu moans around the digit and nods, stripping her shirt off and falling down on a pile of pillows beside Kiyoomi.
“Stick your tongue out, but lay it flat for me, baby.” But she didn’t need to say that because Atsumu’s eyes are glued between her legs, and her tongue falls out on its own when Kiyoomi pulls her underwear down slowly. Atsumu’s eyes follow her until she’s straddling her face.
Kiyoomi rolls her hips and starts fucking her clit against Atsumu’s pliant tongue, going slow at first to enjoy the warmth and gentle pressure of it, and the blissed-out look on Atsumu’s face like there’s nothing else she wants except to be used like this.
Atsumu takes it so well, moaning at the slick slowly coating her chin. She runs her hands up Kiyoomi’s thighs, brushing her fingers firmly around her opening, pressing against it to coax more slick out of her.
“Fuck, Atsumu, you feel so good. God, I love your mouth.” As a streamer, Atsumu essentially commentates games for a living, and the numbers show she’s more than good at it, but Kiyoomi finds that her real talent is holding her tongue just so.
Atsumu squeezes her ass with one hand in response, encouraging her thrusts. Her other fingers are still softly sliding between her folds but not pushing in. There’s a little defiance in her eyes, and of course, she’s going to be defiant even as she lets Kiyoomi rut herself on her face like this.
Kiyoomi tangles her fingers through blonde locks and tugs, hard, pulling a pained moan out of Atsumu. “Stop teasing and put your fingers in me already,” she growls.
There’s an annoying smugness to Atsumu’s eyes, but Kiyoomi can’t be too bothered when her fingers finally slip in, two at once and then abruptly three, and they feel so fucking good, rubbing and scissoring her just the way she likes it. Atsumu’s palm is firmly pressed against the underside of her ass, gripping tight so her fingers stay deep inside her even as Kiyoomi’s thrusts get more frantic.
“God, look at you. Would you go on stream like this? Is that what you wanted? To go live with drool and slick all over your face, letting everyone know what a good girl you’ve been for me?”
Atsumu’s mouth is so, so warm, and she looks gorgeous between Kiyoomi’s legs like this. Her eyes are hungry, taking in Kiyoomi’s flushed face, taut neck and bouncing breasts. God, she must be soaking right now, and Kiyoomi throws her head back and moans at the thought of burying her face in Atsumu’s heat.
“I can’t wait to get my mouth on you and lick you clean, baby.”
When Kiyoomi’s thighs start to tremble, and breathless pants turn into loud moans, Atsumu leans forward to latch her mouth on Kiyoomi’s aching clit and sucks on it hard, sliding a fourth finger in as she fucks her properly with her hand. The suction drives her over the edge, waves of pleasure washing through her with every rock of Atsumu’s hand.
Kiyoomi falls to her side, leading against the headboard to prop herself up when her limbs give way. Her eyes fall shut as she tries to gather her breath and wits back. Atsumu sits up to kiss her, running her clean hand up and down her flank and along her inner thigh.
When they break away, Atsumu holds her gaze as she makes a show of licking her soaked fingers clean. Kiyoomi groans at the sight, dragging her back into a deeper kiss, and Kiyoomi can taste herself in Atsumu’s mouth.
She pulls her closer, and Atsumu moans at the feeling of Kiyoomi’s perk nipples pressed against her chest. Kiyoomi’s thigh slips between her legs, and Atsumu wastes no time grinding against it, fingers digging into Kiyoomi’s back at the stimulation on her cunt at long last.
“Omiii,” Atsumu whines. “’m gonna cry if ya don’t let me come soon.”
“Is that a promise?” she says, trailing kisses up to her ear.
Atsumu grabs Kiyoomi’s hand and places it under her sleep shorts where she’s desperate. “You can make me cry while you’re touching me. Please, Omi-omi. Need ya so bad.”
“Hmm, only because you were so good earlier,” Kiyoomi says, not breaking eye contact as she takes the scrunchie on her wrist and gathers her hair in a ponytail.
Atsumu whimpers at the sight, and she opens her mouth to complain, but Kiyoomi shuts her up with a kiss, licking at the seams of her mouth and her teeth when she opens them. She helps Atsumu pull her shorts down and circles around the hood of her clit with one finger, and Atsumu breaks their kiss to let out a long, raspy moan.
KIyoomi continues to tease around the area as she moves her kisses down Atsumu’s body, nipping at the underside of her breast before continuing past her soft stomach to the patch of dark trimmed curls. She places a firm kiss on her hooded clit and all around her lower lips until Atsumu’s all keyed up and whining.
When Atsumu is squirming and clenching the sheets in frustration, Kiyoomi spreads her glistening cunt open and blows a warm breath of air right on it.
“OMI!” Atsumu practically sobs, hands going to Kiyoomi’s head to push her close. “Please!”
Kiyoomi doesn’t resist and lets Atsumu press her head down, lapping at the glistening slick around the entrance before plunging her tongue in, nose pressed right up against Atsumu’s hooded clit. She eats her out with no amount of gentleness, sucking harshly just the way Atsumu likes until she can’t help but rock her hips back.
“’m so close, I’m so close, please don’t stop, please, please…” With how vocal Atsumu is, Kiyoomi can almost play her like an instrument. A quick nip here and there, and she’s keening. It’s when her voice tapers into short, wordless pants that Kiyoomi knows she’s on the edge. She presses harder on Atsumu’s clit, pinching and rubbing as Atsumu’s fingers dig into her scalp, and her thighs clamp around her ears, holding her head there as she rides the crests of her orgasm.
When her legs finally slump back on her shoulder, Kiyoomi crawls up and gathers a boneless Atsumu into her arms, hand skating up and down her back as she waits for Atsumu’s breathing to even.
“Ya really need to start competing with yer hair down now because ya’ve rewired my brain to expect orgasms when ya look like this,” Atsumu mumbles into her shoulder. “Otherwise, I’ll have to turn down hosting gigs to save myself the discomfort of sitting through hours of UST.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Kiyoomi huffs, amused. “Did you forget why I even wear your scrunchie to games? If I drop it now after two seasons, people are going to think we’re fighting again.”
“I’ll talk to my merch designer about clips. Or headbands!” she says, lifting her head in excitement. “Fox ear headbands, Omi!! It’ll make you look less mean, and it’s so on-brand for me.”
“Absolutely not,” she says, firmly shutting it down, fully aware of the dangerous waters they’re treading right now. It’s very, very difficult to dissuade Atsumu of an idea she’s convinced is brilliant. Just a month ago, she was convinced she got a good deal from a Reese’s sponsorship that paid her a fixed fee upfront and chocolate for view count goals met. Now they have way more boxes of chocolate than they could ever eat.
Kiyoomi’s definitely learned her lesson. “How am I supposed to explain why I’m wearing fox ears in a Black Jackals game?” Plus, she’s going to look ridiculous, and now that the whole team’s aware of their relationship, they’re never going to let her live that down.
“I’ll get you special edition black ones!” Atsumu says, brushing back Kiyoomi’s fringe. “I could make some for the whole team! Shouyou-kun and Wan-san would love—mmph!”
Kiyoomi brings their lips together, cutting her off. If all else fails, keeping Atsumu’s tongue occupied so her mouth stops running is always a good plan. And if Kiyoomi sucks at her tongue and brings Atsumu’s hand to her chest, it has the added benefit of making Atsumu’s brain go too dumb to continue her line of thought.
“Y’know, I’m kind of greedy about ya too,” Atsumu pulls back just enough to say against her lips. “You’re mine, Omi. I don’t want anyone to think you’re available. It was so hard to get ya to even look my way; I don’t want anyone else thinking they even have a chance of catching yer eye. I won ya fair and square.”
And well, does Kiyoomi even stand a chance when Atsumu puts it like that? Kiyoomi sighs, pulling away before Atsumu distracts her with her pretty, plump lips. “Okay. How do you want to tell people then? Do you want to make a big announcement about it or casually mention it at some point?”
Atsumu has the audacity to look surprised, as if she doesn’t know she’s got Kiyoomi wrapped around her finger already. “Are you serious? I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I don’t mind if we don’t tell people, Omi.”
“I do enjoy keeping you to myself,” she says slowly, figuring out exactly how to word this. “But I think I also enjoyed them knowing I’m keeping you to myself, if that makes sense. I liked them knowing I had all the answers to their questions about you and not giving them anything to go on.”
Atsumu grins brightly. “You can join me in Saturday’s stream, and we can make a quick announcement and that we want privacy, and then spend the rest of the time playing games, ignoring any personal questions.”
“Your chat is going to be furious,” Kiyoomi says, but she’s grinning just as wide.
Of course, things don’t go exactly as planned. The morning after, the season’s rankings are released, and a dishevelled Kiyoomi bursts into Atsumu’s stream room while she’s live, shouting in excitement, “Tsumu! The rankings are out! I beat Kiryuu!”
Atsumu squeals in surprise, jumping out of her gaming chair and into her girlfriend’s arms, grabbing Kiyoomi into a kiss live before her 500 thousand viewers. Chat explodes in unmitigated chaos. The mods stood no chance.
Atsumu laughs and looks at the camera when they break apart. “Whoops. We were gonna tell ya eventually, but here it is! Your Rank 1’s mine, chat.”