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Atsumu never understood the concept of ‘colors.’ Everything was black, white, and all the shades of grey in between. He found the monochrome hue of the world frustrating. His mother would constantly comment on his eyes, calling them ‘warm pools of sun rays.’ But when he looked in the mirror, all he saw was grey. He would lose sleep, staying up till the early lights of dawn obsessing over these ‘colors.’ He tried so hard to see them, but that was impossible for him.
“You will see when you find Them.” his mother would always calmly say, while Atsumu was near going bald pulling his hair out in frustration. He was tired of all the black and whites and greys. He wanted to see colors. Though he had no idea what that meant, he wanted it anyways. He always heard adults, elders, and even people of his own age talk about ‘blue skies,’ or ‘red apples’. He got migraines trying to figure out what they meant. All he saw were dull skies, black nights, and grey apples.
When will he find his soul mate? The concept was so cheesy, so stupid, yet it nearly drove him insane and controlled his everyday and entire lifestyle. He was stuck to live in this purgatory of black, white, and all the greys in between. He had to wait for however amount of time until he met his ‘significant other’ or until they died. He wanted to meet his counterpart; he really did. He liked to imagine a life in a nice little apartment, waking up every morning to the love of his life making something cliché like pancakes or maybe French toast if they were feeling spontaneous.
But on late nights as he stared at the array of supposedly varicolored items, he wondered if he could wait that long. He was so tired of the lacuna label, the governmental term for those like him, garnering looks of pity everywhere he went. Sometimes on those nights in the deepest part of his unstable and exhausted mind, he hoped his other would die.
Punishment for making him wait so long.
Of course, that was always his sleep-deprived delirium talking and life went on in its boring ‘colorless’ ways. Each time he woke up from another one of those nights, the weight on his heart got a little heavier with not only disappointment but guilt for even entertaining the thought of losing his soulmate.
His twin, Osamu, met his soul mate during their first year in high school and it only added to Astumu’s frustration. The other would come onto his bunk and talk about everything in his new world. Atsumu would listen awestruck as the other described the world of colors, torn between the bitterness of being left behind by his twin and his excitement and love for his twin. He wanted only the best of Osamu but the ordeal ebbed away at his heart every time he saw his twin and his soulmate. At sixteen, Atsumu's childhood best friend Aran met his soul mate when a new student transferred in. To say Atsumu was jealous was an understatement. But nevertheless, he forced a smile and was happy for his best friend. He was stuck being the only Inarizaki player who couldn't see the world as it really was.
At eighteen Atsumu was admitted to Tokyo University where he ended up being one of the only lacunae in his admitted class. It slightly discouraged him, but he worked hard to prove he was just as good at being able to see simple shades of grey.
But the boy was stubborn, impatient, and expected the worst of his situation, and as he walked past a gift shop within the train station, he recalls the night he came to the conclusion he would never meet his soulmate. At two in the morning, Osamu came bursting into the kitchen to the pathetic sight of Atsumu wailing in the middle of the kitchen. Their mother was gone on a business trip and leaving Atsumu alone with his thoughts was evidently a bad idea. Bright colored fruits were squished everywhere and Atsumu was just a mess. The twins slept together on the couch that night and they watched a Studio Ghibli while eating pints of his favorite ice cream. It helped, and distracted him for a bit. But the gloomy conclusion always wandered from the back of his mind.
The duration of his short three-hour ride from Hyogo to Tokyo was absolute torture for the boy. He was squished between an old couple from England who were traveling the world. They talked to Atsumu the whole ride, telling him of their first-time meeting, their children, wedding, and other stuff Atsumu was forced to listen to.
“Oh yes, when I met my dear James,” Atsumu forced his tight-lipped smile and listened to the story. It was different than the others, but that was a given. Meeting your soul mate was a unique and once-in-a-lifetime thing. But the symptoms were always the same. So, he nodded and played along as he heard the typical signs of headaches and shock and whatnot.
The symptoms seemed terrible, but he envied them so much. He was so used to putting up a front with everyone, playing the loud and obnoxious boy without a care in the world. And in a sense, he still was that person. But every now and then the realities of his situation would settle deep in his bones and begin to throb for attention. He plastered a smile on and continued listening, or at least pretending to.
Despite it all, he still couldn’t help but be somewhat endeared by the couple and walked with them out of the train to help them navigate the signs. Though, in hindsight that was rather difficult with his poor English and little-to-no knowledge of Tokyo. Eventually, the trio found what the couple was looking for and he waved as they rode off in an obnoxiously colored tour bus.
His grin faded as the bus disappeared and the sudden sounds and smells of the city came rushing to him. He held down a whimper at the overwhelming feeling building up in his chest and quickly looked up directions to his new apartment with shaky hands. He scrolled past various messages of love, congrats, and other pleasantries from others back home. Getting out of Hyogo on both academic and athletic scholarships was a feat that hadn’t been done before and the weight of his home’s pride was heavier than he expected. That was the last thing he needed to focus on while stranded in Tokyo.
As his feet led him in the presumably right direction, he couldn’t help but look around in awe like a child in a candy store. Skyscrapers loomed over him, the crisscrossing of wires and boards nearly blocking out the grey skies in some parts. The street was full of characters from all walks of life, whether it was a businessman running late or a cosplayer trying to make a quick dollar off of tourists. Intricate designs covered tiles that scaled the buildings, graffiti spreading messages in the shadows. Between shiny buildings and all the commotion, he got a glimpse of the darker parts of the city that he rather not stay to explore.
Eventually, he found his way to the Tokyo University campus, his apartment complex just outside the main campus. With a mental pep talk, he pushed open the doors to the apartment lobby with his head down. He practically scampered to the elevator, praying it was come fast and empty. The weight of it all was catching up to him and all he wanted to do was settle in and sleep on his bed. The gods Kita always prayed to seemed to be in his favor as the elevator arrived nearly seconds later and he jumped in while frantically pushing the close button as he heard a group approach the area.
To his pleasant surprise, when the doors opened on the fifth floor there was no one out in the hall. He quietly made his way down the hall, scanning the numbers until he found his own.
- 504. 506. Oh, right here, 50-
A gasp pulled him from his thoughts, causing the poor boy to jump nearly a foot into the air. He whipped around to see a head poking out of room 506, a large grin on the person’s face.
“You’re Kiyo’s neighbor!” the brunette cheered, scrambling out of the room and extending his hand out for a proper greeting. Atsumu blinked away his surprise, offering a weak smile onto his face and taking the offered hand while the shorter man pulled someone out of the apartment.
“Hi, I’m Atsumu,” he offered, trying not to focus too hard on the dots the shorter man called eyebrows. He turned to the new person, a smile freezing for a moment as he tilted his head. It's not every day that he meets someone who causes him to move his head up to see them, the thought alone caused butterflies to flutter in his stomach.
The masked man regarded his outstretched hand with a raised brow before nodding stiffly and retreating back into his apartment.
Ouch.
“Oh, don’t mind him, he’s just a grumpy dude. I’m Komori Motoya and that was my cousin Sakusa Kiyoomi!”
The name rang bells and Atsumu begrudgingly realized that the man who rudely dismissed him would be one of HIS spikers. He kept his smile tight, not wanting to offend Komori. The guy seemed nice enough and he could sympathize with the damage control he was probably in charge of.
“Real charmer.”
Komori chuckled, nodding with a fond look in his eyes. Unfortunately (or fortunately) exhaustion was kicking in tenfold and the two bid each other farewell when Atsumu’s eyes drooped a little. The second the door clicked shut, the blonde all but collapsed against the door. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking and his stomach was doing summersaults, only adding to his headache. The vibrations of his phone pulled him from his very-likely vertical slumber and he answered with a sigh.
“What's up, scrub?”
The next month went by in a blur, everything in the city was so high-paced and there was constant bustle. Atsumu would be up at 5 to go to practice half an hour early every day, unfortunately, Sakusa seemed to have the same idea and the two would stand on opposite sides of the gym while doing their own thing. This wouldn’t bother Atsumu normally, as it was always nice to practice with a partner but Sakusa was a solitary figure and has refused nearly every invitation to practice together outside of whatever was assigned by the coach. As if that wasn’t already bad enough, Atsumu had an 8:30 biology class every day after practice and never had time to grab a casual breakfast with the rest of the team, impeding his ability to really bond and understand his players. Most days, the blonde wouldn’t get home until at least 8 at night and be absolutely dead by then.
He knew he was rapidly approaching his breaking point, the thin string holding him together was bound to snap at any moment. He was so goddamn tired but insisted on going back to the gym late at night and practicing his serves. The practice was for his players, his sets and tosses but that left little to no room for him to perfect serves. Which was why he found himself panting in an empty gym at nearly ten at night.
Sweat dripped from his forehead and his heartbeat was thrumming in his ears. His vision was blurring and he honestly could not tell if it was from the sweat in his eyes, the exhaustion, or the tears threatening to pour if he missed yet another serve. Evidently, the gods who blessed him at the beginning of the quarter were nowhere to be found and he felt his heart sink as his next serve landed out of bounds.
The smack of the ball masked the snapping of the cord in him and he collapsed to his knees with a muffled sob. He couldn’t even serve a damn ball. The most basic lesson in volleyball and he couldn’t even do that. He barely understood his teammate’s play styles and struggled to even send a half-decent set in their way. As much as the guy irritated him, Sakusa deserved better than a mediocre setter. Not to mention Bokuto, his second spiker with a heart of gold and the patience of a god. They were all putting up and dealing with the weakest control tower they’ve ever played with. He’s never doubted his skills until now, he was so confident and all of that was thrown right back in his face.
His sniffles and hiccups echoed off the empty gym walls, concealing the sound of the gym doors opening. He was so absorbed in his self-loathing that he didn’t even notice the other presence until something draped itself over his head, causing him to jump with a gasp.
He pulled the towel off his head, blinking up at the figure who moved their way to stand in front of him. To his absolute horror, Sakusa stood over him with a glowering look. As if his general displeasure wasn’t bad enough, now it seemed to all targeted him.
“Are you stupid?”
He blinked up at the gruff words, muffled by a black mask. The tears that temporarily stopped came back at full force and he mustered his best glare before turning his head away.
“If yer jus' gonna make fun of me, then fuck off.” Atsumu hissed, voice hoarse.
“I’m not making fun of you,” despite the reassurance, Sakusa’s tone remained steady and monotonous causing the blonde to look back to gauge his emotions. “I’m asking a genuine question. Are you stupid?”
The lack of malice confused the hiccupping boy, who tilted his head with guarded confusion. Sakusa rose a brow, waiting for an answer.
“N-no...” Atsumu mumbled, breathing calming down with the distraction of this confusing interaction.
“So why are you here serving until your legs give out? How are you supposed to set to me tomorrow if you pull something tonight?”
Atsumu squinted at the words, unsure of how to receive them. The question was asked purely logically but nothing ever came out of Sakusa’s mouth without some sort of snark.
“Omi,” he started, wiping his tears with the towel. “What are ya doing?”
The said man rolled his eyes.
“I need my setter to give me the best sets. Evidently, you’re my setter and you’re literally breaking apart. I’d rather not have to practice with a new guy.”
The ensuing silence was deafening. Atsumu’s head was spinning both from the previous breakdown and because of the confusion. In the month the two have been playing together, Sakusa has only ever spoken to him when criticizing his plays or rejecting his offers to practice together. Atsumu’s confusion must have told Sakusa something as his harsh gaze suddenly softened somewhat and he let out a defeated sigh.
“Go home, Miya. Get some sleep and we can,” he paused, contemplating his next words carefully. “Practice together before the rest of the team gets here.”
Record scratch. Freeze frame. Screeching breaks.
Atsumu couldn’t stop the dumb grin from forming on his face at the words. His eyes were still red-rimmed and puffy and his breath was still shaky but the words uttered from Sakusa seemed to flip the boy right back. He couldn’t stop the watery giggle that left and Sakusa rolled his eyes, the action significantly less harsh than normal.
True to his word, the next morning Atsumu found himself face-to-face with the spiker as he opened his apartment door. They both blinked at each other, startled by the other.
“You were taking too long,” the taller of the two grumbled weakly, backing away to let the other into the hall. Atsumu glanced down at his watch only to turn back and shoot Kiyoomi an incredulous look. The other feigned ignorance and shoved his hands in his pockets, spinning on his heel and making his way to the elevator. Atsumu followed, quietly grumbling about being two minutes behind schedule.
The walk to the facility wasn’t the most painful thing, though a bit more chatter would have been welcomed. Atsumu fought the urge to blurt something obnoxious for the sake of some form of communication and instead forced himself to enjoy the brisk morning. They walked past some joggers who gave curt nods in their direction, the city itself still slowly waking. The quietness was welcomed for once, with no aggressive horns or screaming vendors. Just quiet shuffling as Tokyo slowly woke its inhabitants.
He shot a subtle look at Kiyoomi who was so passively focused on getting to the gym. His expression was oozing boredom but this was the most relaxed he had ever seen the taller man. There was a slouch in his shoulders not akin to the typical nightmare-inducing posture, rather it was an absence of tension that normally strung the man high. The sun was just cresting over buildings, rays warming them. A pang of sadness hit Atsumu as he saw the sun shining in Kiyoomi’s dark eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder if they were as black as they seemed or if there was some color. Not that Atsumu would find out the truth anytime soon.
Kiyoomi’s gaze moved to the corner of his eyes and he rose an eyebrow at the very obvious staring causing the shorter to whip his head in the opposite direction, face warm and neck suddenly aching.
The breakdown seemed to switch something in their dynamic, Sakusa was suddenly more receptive to Atsumu and his requests. This improved not only their relationship but Atsumu’s entire dynamic with his team. Even teammates like Shoyo noticed and appreciated the change and that was saying a lot.
Somewhere in the back of his head, Atsumu couldn’t help but hear the nasty little voice telling him that they were only doing this to win games. That they were pretending to care so they wouldn’t have to deal with whatever it was that Sakusa saw. But as he looked around his living room where some of the team had gathered for a movie night, the thought immediately dissipated.
“My first-time meeting Bakayama was nowhere NEAR this romantic,” Shoyo pipped up, a look of utter disbelief on his face as the two characters in the movie began to profusely make out in the rain. “He was such a jerk and I just wanted to beat him in everything. We even had a bet to see who would find their soulmate first.”
Atsumu shook his head, a small smile at the story. Leave it to Hinata and Kageyama to make everything, including their relationship a competition. It's kind of funny how the two had high-fived after a successful quick attack in high school and suddenly realized they were soulmates. Unconventional but so typical of them.
“’Kaashi and I met on his first day of high school. I grabbed his arm to bring him to the gym and BOOM, found my soulmate.” Bokuto sighed, reminiscing the past with a dreamy sigh. Atsumu could practically see the hearts beaming out of his eyes. The blonde shuffled nervously in his seat, earning the attention of Hinata.
“What about you Atsumu-san?” He grinned, the innocent question basically stabbing the setter in the heart. The said man chuckled nervously, fiddling with his sleeves while looking away with shameful heat spreading across his face.
“I uh-” he coughed, clearing his throat. “I haven’t actually met mine yet.”
He expected a gasp or shocked looks of sympathy. That was the usual response he got, especially when around people who have had their soulmates for a while. Instead, he was met with a shrug and easy grin from Bokuto.
“No biggie, you’ll find them. You are barely an adult, it’s not like you had a lot of time to explore outside of Hyogo.”
Hinata nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah! Omi-San hasn’t met his either, it's no big deal.”
Atsumu’s eyes shot to the quiet figure sitting on the beanbag in the corner of the room. He nodded in agreement, rather unbothered by the words. He felt sort of envious of the nonchalance that his teammate showed, wishing he was that relaxed about the whole ordeal. Kiyoomi met his inquisitive gaze and rose a brow in question. Atsumu smiled weakly and shook his head, turning his attention back to the tv. He tuned out the rest of the movie, losing himself in his thoughts again.
Why can’t you just be normal like Omi-Kun? He’s in the same boat as you and completely unbothered. You’re being a pathetic brat, whining over something as stupid as soulmates. Why are you even so bothered, knowing your luck you’ll probably just fall in the category of people who weren’t born with one. Just another defective human, honestly.
He barely registered the remainder of the time, vaguely aware of movement around him but it wasn’t enough to pull himself out of his thoughts. He was unaware of the concerned looks his team gave him, eyes glazed over as he let his conscious take the reins. He was unaware of the tall figure ushering everyone out with a furrowed and contemplative look. It wasn’t until said figure walked over and crouched in front of him did he slowly come back to his body.
Kiyoomi knelt in front of him, a worried look etched on his normally impassive features.
“Omi?” his voice came out significantly quieter than he expected, internally cursing himself for sounding so stupid.
“What’s going on?” It wasn’t accusatory or belittling, instead, it was quiet and laced with that rare gentle tone that Kiyoomi seemed to use so rarely and exclusively with his setter. Atsumu kept mum, blinking owlishly at the softness. This side of Kiyoomi had, ironically, been the most difficult adjustment for Atsumu. One: because no one believed him when he talked about the spiker’s gentle demeanor, and two: it was tugging at the dusty and old strings in the setter’s heart. Kiyoomi had quickly become a norm in his daily routine and these anxiety-inducing feelings were threatening the fragile bond that was precariously built between them.
So, the setter did what he did best and faked a smile, shaking his head as though to physically shake off whatever was concerning Sakusa. “Nothin’, just zoning out.”
Sakusa frowned, opening his mouth to say something when the setter abruptly stood up forcing him to stand up and take a step back. Atsumu knew he was being a bit harsh but having the taller man so close to his personal space was making him feel a lot more flushed than he would have liked. Said spiker reached out to him as he tried walking past but Atsumu’s hand instinctively came up and pushed it away.
Under normal circumstances, Atsumu would have felt horrible for the automatic reaction of smacking away his friend’s hand and Sakusa would have probably cursed at him or something akin to that. But a sharp gasp left Atsumu’s lips instead as his ears suddenly began to ring. It felt like someone took a bat to the back of his head, the pain-causing him to stumble and lose balance. As his world seemed to flip on its side, he was vaguely aware of someone calling his name before a weight fell on top of him.
He blinked his eyes open with a groan, tears clumping up his lashes as the pain subsided nearly as quickly as it came. His heart jumped to his throat when he managed to focus on the bewildered figure above him.
The first thing he saw was a black, pure black mop of curls and that was given. But his thoughts faltered as she noticed his face. It wasn't the usual grey or white or even black. It was this weird color. Something he wasn't used to seeing at all. Then again, he wasn't used to seeing color at all.
Colors .
A shocked laugh left his mouth as he let a hand come up and brush the side of Kiyoomi’s face, tears now freely running down his cheeks. Kiyoomi himself seemed to be in disbelief, his expression sitting somewhere between elation and utter confusion.
“It’s been you,” Atsumu sniffled, not even having the space to entertain the thought of being embarrassed about the tears. “Omi, you-you're my-”
“Soulmate,” the other breathed out, slowly getting off the setter but pulling Atsumu up with him. He had no time to register the movements before Kiyoomi was pulling him into a soft embrace, lips slotting against his own and hands snaking around his waist. Atsumu melted into the feeling, letting himself be pulled into Kiyoomi’s lap as he wrapped his arms around the spiker’s neck.
The need for air started to outweigh their other instincts and Atsumu paused to take a nearly gasping breath, his exhales coming out in short giggles as Kiyoomi pressed their foreheads together. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the other, this new vibrancy was addicting and overwhelming in the best ways. As Kiyoomi met his gaze, Atsumu decided that whatever color Kiyoomi’s eyes were, were now his favorite color.
As he settled himself down into Kiyoomi’s lap, a sudden thought wormed its way to the front of his mind and he felt his face warm. Nervously playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, Atsumu dropped his gaze down to avoid Kiyoomi’s eyes as he uttered his next few words.
“Think there’s a lot of lost time we should prob’bly make up fer, like ya know, touching-wise or whatever.”
Kiyoomi snorted at the words, they easily being the worst lines he’s ever heard someone use to get him in bed. Nonetheless, they were the most effective because suddenly Atsumu was being picked up and carried off to his own bedroom like Kiyoomi owned the place. Atsumu’s legs quickly wrapped around Kiyoomi’s waist, causing their clothed members to brush. Atsumu’s moan was cut short by a gasp as he was unceremoniously dropped onto his own bed, Kiyoomi wasting no time and crawling over him to capture his lips in another heated kiss.
Kiyoomi sunk his hips down, the delicious friction opening causing Atsumu to open his mouth as a moan escaped. Kiyoomi took the opportunity to slip his tongue in and met zero resistance as he explored, Atsumu’s own tongue dancing around his.
“Fuck,” Kiyoomi gasped, pulling away to kiss a trail down Atsumu’s neck. He gently sunk his teeth into the junction between the blonde’s neck and shoulder, earning a soft whimper. Kiyoomi sat up, quickly discarding both his and Atsumu’s shirts before pausing to look at the debauched man below him.
Atsumu’s eyes were hazy and his face flushed as he panted for air. His lips were kiss-swollen and a trail of color was already starting to bloom where Kiyoomi had laid his teeth in.
“I didn’t think you could be any more gorgeous, Atsu.”
The nickname nearly had Atsumu cumming in his pants like a horny teenager and he whined, simultaneously grinding his hips up while reaching to pull Kiyoomi back into another heated make-out session. Somewhere in between furious kisses and light hickies, the rest of their clothes ended up strewn across the room. Kiyoomi kissed and bit a trail down Atsumu’s chest, stopping to take a nipple between his teeth. Atsumu gasped, bringing a hand up to tangle into those luscious curls while Kiyoomi sucked his tit raw. He blindly smacked his free hand around his bedside table until it landed on his target, a half-empty bottle of lube.
“O-Omi,” he gasped, tugging at the curls to get said man’s attention. “I love ya, but I think ‘m gonna die if ya don’t fuck me right now.”
“Shit, Atsu,” he all but growled, snatching the lube and generously coating his fingers. He quickly sunk down, disappearing from Atsumu’s sight and the blonde forced himself up on his elbows to see what was happening. Any question died on his lips as Kiyoomi licked a quick stripe up the underside of his cock, effectively silencing Atsumu as he fell back onto the bed with a soft moan.
He felt something swirl at prod at his rim before Kiyoomi sunk in a finger. The feeling was foreign but not unwelcome, Kiyoomi’s long fingers reaching deeper than Atsumu’s own. As the man added a second, he took the head of Atsumu into his mouth and ran his tongue over the slip as a distraction from the stretch. Atsumu’s moans broke off with a stutter, back arching beautifully at the sudden curl of the spiker’s fingers.
“Fu-fuck fuck fuck, Omi ‘m not gonna,” Atsumu’s blabbering became incoherent as a third finger entered him, the stretch barely noticeable with Kiyoomi sucking the literal soul out of him. He felt the tell-tale signs of his orgasm reaching and opened his mouth to warn when suddenly the fingers pulled out and the mouth disappeared.
His sob was cut short as something else entered him, Kiyoomi’s hands coming to still Atsumu’s waist as he slowly sunk into him. Atsumu’s gasps were swallowed up as they waited for him to adjust, the man rendered nearly speechless by how full he felt.
“M-move,” he whispered after a few moments, letting his eyes flutter shut as Kiyoomi took a gentle and experimental thrust. He started off slow, tangling one hand with Atsumu’s and clearly gauging Atsumu’s reactions. He angled his next thrust and Atsumu’s back did that beautiful arch again, Atsumu’s free hand flying up to grip the sheets above him. A quick squeeze of Kiyoomi’s fingers was the only warning he received before the spiker began pistoning his hips, brushing his prostate with every thrust.
Kiyoomi’s name left his lips like a mantra, with zero thoughts except Omi Omi Omi in the blonde’s head. Kiyoomi suddenly sat back on his heels and Atsumu all but screamed as the man hit his prostate dead-on, setting a brutal pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelching was obscene but only egged them on. Kiyoomi’s name began to meld as Atsumu's jaw slackened and eyes rolled to the back of his head as he reached his peak.
“So good, you’re so fucking gorgeous Atsumu,” Kiyoomi’s sudden words pushed Atsumu over the edge, mouth open in a silent scream as he spilled over his chest untouched. He was pretty sure he blacked out for a moment but strung tight as his orgasm crashed over him. Kiyoomi’s own pace began to get sloppy as he fucked Atsumu through the waves, whines leaving him as Kiyoomi pushed him into over-stimulation as he chased his own orgasm.
“Such a good boy, so fucking good for me,” Atsumu’s whimpered at Kiyoomi uttered those words, hips stuttering to a stop. The blonde couldn’t stop the moan as he felt the man paint his insides white. Kiyoomi stayed there for a moment, his vice-like grip on Atsumu’s hips loosening as he came down from his high.
Atsumu could barely keep his eyes open, exhaustion rolling over him as that post-orgasmic bliss settled into his bones. He made only the softest noises of protest when Kiyoomi pulled out, not having the energy to feel embarrassed about cum now seeping out of his ass. He was alone left alone for a minute before gentle hands wiped him down, cleaning him as well as one could with a washcloth.
“’Mi... Omi, clean tomorrow. Snuggle now.” The hands on him paused, followed by a chuckle before he felt Kiyoomi slip into the bed beside him. It took him nearly all the energy he had left to turn around, burying his face into the man’s chest. Kiyoomi’s arms wrapped around him, holding him tight as if he was trying to get every inch of their skin to touch. Not that Atsumu was complaining.
“I love you, Omi.”
A soft press of lips to the crown of his head.
“I love you too, Atsu.”