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This has to be the most bored she has ever been in a party, which is to say because her boyfriend is always dragging her to any gathering he as much overhears from the mouth of his friends, invited or not.
It's usually fun, but maybe that was tonight's problem. Atsumu was not here, and it instantly all became slightly less lively for her.
In his defense, he did say he might not be able to make it. The Black Jackal’s have been in an intense regime ever since the championship season started, and in between the National League and the V.League, it even left very little time for him to take proper baths once he got home, even less so to go out and have fun.
However, Suna had the time to plan something to celebrate by the end of the season, and she hoped that even though they still had one last game in the next week, the entire team could use a little time to get out there and unwind. This is the reason why she insists this time. She knows how Atsumu’s mind has been this past week just by the way he talked over the phone, just a tinge off, even when he tried so hard not to let it show.
[06:38 pm]: lets see if one of us can convince coach, but I don't expect much
[06:38 pm]: show me how you look tho
[06:40 pm]: need it for incentive
Those were the only updates he gave her, before her answering he would have to come see her for himself, and then disappearing for the rest of the night. She stares at the messages for a while, sitting on the couch in the living room until Suna comes to her rescue, with the help of the other twin this time, and it’s funny how they actually manage to cheer her up.
Osamu talks about a certain food blog with so much enthusiast it distract her for a really good few minutes until her eyes catch a group of people walking through the front door of Suna’s apartment — and the brunette in front of her laughs, because he can see in her face the moment she spots his brother.
It’s easy to notice when the Black Jackal’s arrive. Bokuto is never one to make small entrances, nor is Hinata. Sakusa, when present, usually looks more like a shadow sliding away from the spotlight, as every other person on the team laughs at it.
Atsumu is different, he always has been. She thinks about the first time she spotted him at a college party, how much light he brought into the room, and how easily everybody around him seemed to turn like insects, trying to bask in his brightness. It was different then, even before she properly met him, but it’s even more so now when he spots her in the room full of people and breaks into the sweetest grin she has seen for what feels like years.
Suna and Osamu turn into a collective of eye rolls and laughs, but none of them stop her when the girl pushes them back to give her enough room to jump out of the couch and run towards the blonde man standing by the door, both arms open already.
No one would dare to, she realizes when every single person in her way seemed to notice her eagerness and immediately walked a few steps back. Atsumu seems to notice it too because his hand goes to Bokuto’s chest when he tries to walk in front of him as he pushes him back slightly, his smile somehow growing wider as he braces himself.
Maybe it’s some new kind of adrenaline, one injected directly in her veins, because she almost couldn’t tell if she spent a second or several running through the long living room. She does remember the way Atsumu catches her though, both hands directly holding her thighs when she instantly wraps her legs around him the second he’s at arm’s length, jumping into his arms. Not ready at all, though he’s able to quickly pick her up, her speed was fast enough to push him few steps backwards until he hits his back on the door behind him.
“Ouch!” His head jerks back forward when he hits it on the surface behind him, a chuckle escapes his lips and he finally looks back at her.
He seems to want to say something when he does, opening his mouth slightly with a smirk forming on his lips, but then his eyes move down for a second, and he freezes on the spot, gaze fixed over her lips. Her smile grows with his, and it urges her to get a hold of his face and pull it up to look back into her eyes.
“Hi, handsome,” she whispers, giving him a small peck. He complies easily.
“Hi, beautiful,” he says, tapping her thighs playfully before bumping their nose together and whispering, “can I see how you look now?” His eyes never leaving her face.
She smiles, “after one more kiss, I’ll consider it.” Atsumu roll his eyes, because it’s torture, but he still touches his lips even being aware she would pull back before even a smidge of the red in hers can marks his, which is exactly what happens. When she’s far enough again, she finally slides her hand from his shoulder to his own and nods, standing on the floor again while intertwining their fingers, “the council has decided that you can.”
“Who is the council again?” He indulges her, only easing his hold as he he twirls her around twice. His eyes scan her body up and down, drinking every inch of the outfits she was wearing and almost reluctantly meeting her eyes again.
“The little guys in my head,” she says, giggling as he still holds her hand, standing a few feet from him as he still leans against the wall.
His eyes close slightly, suspicious as he asks, “you have other men in your head?” He tugs at her hand, amusement in his tone, and she scoffs from a few seconds before he pulls her to a kiss again.
Atsumu’s eyes and lips both are enough to tell his thoughts about tonight’s outfit, not just that moment but all the following hours he spends by her side. He always had a way to become more handsy whenever either of them dressed up, and he had no reason or felt no need to hide it.
Despite the answer being obvious, about a hour or so later, he doesn’t seem to hold himself quiet anymore and, as soon as Hinata’s attention shifts to someone else, he pulls her closer with the arm around her shoulder and leans against it.
“I like your makeup,” he whispers, she chuckles and it makes him lift his head and stare back at her face, eyes shifting up and down again.
Her smile grows, “I know,” she whispers, and it catches his attention back to her as it seems to prove she caught him when she concludes “you’ve been staring at my lips all night.”
In Atsumu’s defense, he has been dead tired since he woke up. He had barely any energy left to train today, much less to actively be social like he likes to be. But she asked him to be here tonight since it has almost been a week since they went out together, and suddenly it seemed like that was his only mission of the week.
Talking was exhausting, staring never was, much less touching, so he spent the night with his hand around her and catching glimpses of her every time he needed to recharge — which apparently, happened more times he had noticed.
Her hand finds his bangs, sliding his hair back for a second and calling him back to Earth when her breath reaches him. She whispers, “wanna try it?” and his expression instantly changes. Furrowed eyebrow raising as he scoffs silently, shaking his head.
“Not now,” is all he asks, because he’s far too tired to move from this place to appreciate that proposal properly.
She’s still kind enough to cup his face again, push her lips to his slightly harder now for a second before pulling back and nodding, “sure, when we get home, then.” And right after, also kind enough to pull back and lean her head against his shoulder to hide the temptation
Atsumu is somewhat a good liar, but a damn bad pretender. She notices when he pretends he’s paying attention to the conversation after she says that, pretends to stretch his shoulder once his hand involuntarily grips her waist tighter, pretends to need to move a bit only to catch a glimpse of her again.
He pretends he isn’t antsy when they get into the cab to go to his apartment, when calling the elevator multiple times, when he pulls her for a kiss once the doors close. She can feel his hand purposely stretching as he keeps himself from gripping too tightly at her body, she hears the sound of the keys as he fidgets with them in his pocket and she lets him pretend he isn’t desperate when he pulls her out of the elevator, tries every key and finally opens the door. Suddenly so full of energy again.
“You want some water?” He asks casually, like he usually does as he looks back to watch her lock his door. She turns to see his smile is bashful, and she can’t help but mirror it as she walks towards him with slow steps. Atsumu walks back, and chuckles, “what’s with that face?”
When his calves meet the couch, she smiles while slowly placing both hands over his chest, sending his mind spiraling as she gently presses against him. “You should see yours,” her whisper is the softest voice he has heard all night, though he doesn’t stay in that thought for too long since her lips find the bridge of his nose while she pushes him to sit down.
Atsumu falls back on the couch with a laugh, loudly echoing in the living room and hands trying to reach up for her until she finally walks a step closer and pulls one leg up to climb at him, straddling his waist. The next second is met with silence save for the soft sound of his breath hitching, hand instantly finding her waist to pull her closer against him and prevent himself from moving. His eyes, wide and cracked before with the smile, gain a new weight as it closes slightly, but never prying from hers.
She smiles at the sight of his slightly parted lips, hands cupping his jaw once he ends up not saying anything, “did you know I adore you?” She asks softly before giving a second kiss to his nose, harder now enough to leave the mark of her red lipstick between his furrowed brows, dissipating that tension.
Atsumu opens his mouth to answer what she can only guess that was an attempt of “yes,” but she’s faster to kiss the side of his jaw, under his ears. Gentle hands on his face to pull him closer, pressing her lips harder against his skin to make sure that the print of her lips stay for a while longer there and just slightly redder than his neck already was. It shuts him down instantly.
“I like when you notice when I put extra effort in looking pretty for you,” she whispers, kissing her way up to his temple, and bringing her body down, closer. “It’s cute. I feel very loved,” she whispers against his forehead before giving it a kiss, his hand finds her lower back and presses her hips against his.
Atsumu was his own downfall, they realized together. He makes a strangled noise when she sinks better between the shape of him, bodies clashing together and almost merging into one when his hands involuntarily pulls her down. It’s sweet how she smiles and kisses his eyelids softer now, just a light trace of red there, even if the shape is obvious, and he thinks he has never felt this overwhelmed. She pauses, pulls back, and he hums relieved, eyes still closed, “do you?” It was supposed to sound teasing, he isn’t sure that translates well with how breathless he sounds. He doesn’t mind it all at this point.
Her hand holds his face closer until their chests are touching, her fingertips brush lightly against his undercut, so lightly it makes him almost whine to the softness of it all. “A lot, actually,” whispering, lips above his, her breath against his own only helping him look slightly asphyxiated.
She can feel him shuddering, “it’s the right assumption.” He opens his eyes, looks into hers, and repeats, “I do love you a lot,” words dripping in a drunk gaze he shares with her.
“I know you do,” she whispers, pulling her hands up and him impossibly closer by his arms, whispering against his chin, “love you,” just for a second, in case he needed the reminder, before opening her mouth trailing messier kisses down his neck.
He’s impatient as always, almost rough with all his grabbing, full palms open at her lower back when he pulls her, making it so much more obvious how much larger they are when he places both above her thighs, riding her skirt slightly up to grasp at her flesh and pull it closer, his own body slowly sinking lower in the couch when he tries to bring her own closer.
Hers, however, are dangerously softer. Knuckles traveling up his arm, fingertips tickling the end of his hairline on his nape, gently dragging her nails at his spine. It’s almost infuriating, how it’s everywhere and not enough. He wants his hair entangled in the space between her fingers, her digits marked on his skin close to each of the red smudges all over his face. Atsumu wants every part of his body to feel her overwhelming warmth like he’s where she presses her waist against his.
“Come here,” he asks, barely audible, when she reaches to pull his collar down and leaves a softer kiss there. Any other day, she might have ignored the plea for a moment, waiting for him to make her do it himself since he was always too impatient.
Tonight, when he whispers that, it almost feels too close to his breaking point already — she would be the first to know, sometimes even before himself could. She recognizes the way his breath is uneven between the mumbled words, how his hands anchor her knees down on the couch, his own legs antsy moving under her. Atsumu rarely gets to keep himself together for too long when she’s like this, always wanting to do things his own way. He also would never once in his life dare to pull her away from his lap, always easily losing himself in the process, barely realizing his own limits.
Atsumu likes to take his time, experimenting, teasing, dragging them both for as long as he can. This is the reason that, when he calls her back to his lips, she immediately obliges with ease. The breath that leaves his lips when she touches it is of extreme relief.
She pulls for a moment to stare at his face, both hands cupping his neck while one of his leaves her legs for the first time to pull some of her hair out of her face. “What with that face?”
Atsumu asks that, face covered in the mark of her lips, most of the shape now almost unrecognizable, varying tones with how smudged they are. His eyes never leave her own, despite finishing his question, his lips remain parted; hell, he still has his head leaned back from when he tried to give her more access to his neck. He asks that and dares to look back at her with the most adoring expressions she has ever seen over his features. Her stomach flutters for a moment, shivering slightly when feeling his hand ride her skirt higher.
“Are you there? Do I need to repeat myself, doll?” His tone is laced with amusement, lower than ever, but she recognizes the fondness of those lip shapes anywhere.
“Just, no answer,” she smiles, leaning to kiss his lips once, “just my face looking at yours,” twice, “am I not allowed?” She pulls back, tilts her head to the side.
Atsumu pauses for a second, staring back at her, and she feels her stomach twirl when the ends of his lips does.
“You done?” He asks gently, though his hand traveling between her legs is anything but, “playing with me, are you done?” He asks again, making her stomach twirl like the ends of his lips does.
Her grin grows with his eagerness before chuckling quietly, nodding at him. Impatient to his core, Atsumu wastes not a second before he grasps both her legs and turns them both around until her back is pressed against the couch. His thumb finds her lips, presses slightly lower than her mouth to clean part of the smudge against it, before continuing their way down on jaw and then her neck, leaving a tray of his new favorite color on the way.
The gaze from his eyes burns her, and she thinks he’s still taking in the way the lipstick looks against her skin but it's almost funny; he thinks that's mesmerizing because he can’t look in a mirror right now. He can’t see the way her lips cover all of his face and down his neck, how the warmth of the red stains matches the color of his eyes, and how intently they look at her.
Atsumu always tried to find the best words he could for each situation, and most times he would successfuly do so, but she doesn’t think none of those compare to the way he suddenly slows down when he finally gets what he wants. How his eyes look at her when all exhaustion seems to leave his body and his gaze is dripping with desire that tells her that there’s no room for his impatience right now; giving place to so much adoration that it serves as a reminders that she would have to ask now if she wanted him to stop stalling.
She doesn’t, not for a long time, because it’s Atsumu, and he waited for her tonight just like she had waited for him before. They compromise to let the other take their time, in every instance in their lives, because they always knew the outcome would leave them both more sickly in love with each other than before. That's how they always worked, with as much patience as they could gather, and as much love as they could give.
So Atsumu waited to see her outfit for the night just like she waited for him at the party. He then waited again until she had covered all of his face with lipstick, and finally, she waits now one last time until at least half of that red from his face was transferred to every inch of her body.