I Hope No Ones Done This Yet (plz Let Me Know If Someone Has) But Hinata Trying To Seduce Kageyama Into

i hope no ones done this yet (plz let me know if someone has) but hinata trying to seduce kageyama into buying a whole plane ticket for some hole

Double Dates

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x fem!reader (featuring Osamu and made up character)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: nsfw (MINORS DNI), voyerism/public, fingering, slightly dom!reader, vivid depictions of sweat

It was a mistake bringing Atsumu to dinner. Red leather sticks to your thighs, holding like glue from the film of sweat threatening to drip, to trickle down your calf and into your shoe. The room is sweltering, and the body heat from the athlete snug against your side in the cramped restaurant booth is not helping.

Steam from the kitchen clings together high into the ceiling above and the yellow lights dangling over the table only aid to the growing warmth. A thin stream of sweat rolls off your cheek, taking a bit of hairspray and setting powder with it. The hair that you spent an ungodly amount of time styling is lifted off of your neck and you fan yourself with the menu, making some offhand comment about the weather to the couple in front of you.

“I find the weather around this time of year nice. Maybe it’s just me,” Osamu responds, his last few words awkwardly dragged out and quiet as he watches the sweat boil and bead on your chest.

The girl on his arm, more engaged in her boyfriend’s voice and definitely dryer than you, adds while popping a fry into the grey-haired’s mouth, “I agree with Osa. You probably just have a sweating disorder or something.” She doesn’t even look at you while her words swing with great strength, aiming straight for your gut.

Atsumu has always despised Osamu’s girlfriend for a multitude of reasons. The first being that she had tried to rebrand the nickname “Samu” as her own, which Atsumu had absolutely none of. That was his brother as well as his nickname to use and take credit for. What the Jackals player found even worse was the nickname she ended up using, “Osa,” which he’s always complained about how unnatural it sounds. To add insult to injury, this woman constantly tries to claim superiority; over how much she knows Osamu, over being the better couple, even over being the better girlfriend.

So, you shouldn’t be surprised at how the faux-blond’s hand stills and tenses inside of you. You can practically feel his ivy veins pulse and bulge against your inner thigh in annoyance. He opens his mouth to protest the snide remark from his twin’s partner but seals his lips shut as soon as your walls squeeze around his pruning finger, drawing him back to you. He slowly picks the rhythm of his wrist back up, letting the thin skin of his knuckles drag back and forth into you.

When Osamu first brought up the idea of weekly double dates after noticing the disapproval of his lover from both you and Atsumu, he was pleasantly surprised that you both agreed, especially surprised that his brother was on board. But why would Atsumu decline and pass up an opportunity to establish his own twisted idea of dominance over his twin and his twin’s shitty girlfriend? Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend had been plotting his evil scheme from the invite.

It wasn’t until you got to the joint that he begun to caress your thigh, feel you up under the table, and play with your skirt that he had picked out for the occasion. You thought this was him messing around, as he’s prone to do, but when he cupped his warm palm over your pussy, sliding a nimble finger into your slicked-up entrance, you knew that this was more than his typical antics. Ultimately though, you decided to play his little game, shooting him a competitive glare as if to say, “You can try, but I am not making a fool of myself at this table.”

Ever since, it’s been hard to read the items on the crimson menu, vision blurring slightly while his finger pads prod into your g-spot. Your toes curl in your shoes, the uncomfortable feeling of your toenails grazing the soles of the kitten heels is overshadowed by the burning of your veins so intense to the point of feeling like they’re freezing over.

Though the laminated sheet in front of you is slightly bent and crinkled from your white knuckles, you’re barely showing any signs of the scene that’s unfolding beneath the wood table. It pisses Atsumu off, especially since he can feel the familiar flutter around his hand, and the way that you rock your weight onto his wrist for more. He knows you’re close but your poker face makes it so no one in the diner has a mere clue.

Soon, the waitress comes to take orders, and there’s no hint of strain in your voice, not even a squeak when he decides to abruptly slip in a second finger. He scissors them, biceps flexing as he orders with a tone more weak and tired than your own. The frustration in Atsumu builds, his pervy goal of unraveling you so easily infront of the entire restaurant becoming more intrinsic by the second. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he couldn’t make you cum in any circumstance?

Conversation continues between the couples, albeit mundane and not of any value. Surprisingly, Atsumu doesn’t participate much in the banter between the four of you, choosing to bite his tongue and focus solely on your pleasure. Here you sit, unphased while talking about your coworkers as his fingers desperately curl and thrust in a last-minute attempt to push you into an orgasm, a gasp, a wince, anything.

Your insides contract around him, and he can almost feel victory with the way you squirm in your shared seat, letting the shallow pool of sweat and arousal slosh beneath you. Just one more spread of his fingers, a hit upwards, a press of his thumb clockwise on your clit, and-

“Here’s your otoro sushi, sir.” The waitress outstretches the plate to Atsumu, who reluctantly takes it from her with his unoccupied hand and sets it defeatedly in front of him. Normally, he’s appreciative of fast service, but not in an instance like this. Quiet thanks and greetings are politely muttered around the table to the waitress and the freshly cooked meals, your boyfriend being the last to participate.

He sighs, “Itadakimasu,” and retreats his hand back to his utensils, not before wiping the wet glaze coating his fingers on a napkin of course. Picking up his chopsticks, Atsumu takes tiny bites of the fleshy tuna, chewing and silently sulking with his head on the heel of his palm. He grabs his glass, covered in condensation from the contrast in temperature, and lifts it slowly to his lips.

The only conversation taking place is in the form of hushed slurps, lips smacking, and eye contact, each person enjoying their meal in comfortable silence. You poke your boyfriend on the shoulder, and he turns to you pouting, with eyes pitiful enough to almost feel bad for the man. But after the little stunt Atsumu just pulled, there is no compassion to be found lying within you.

“Hey, can I try a piece?” You ask, after seeing the lovesick pair across from you fawn over and make a spectacle about feeding the other. The athlete slides the plate an inch in your direction in a bored display of permission. You rise from your seat, just enough to put your knees to work and for the leather beneath you to rip from its hold on the skin of your thigh.

Leaning over him to grab a piece of the pink fish, you whisper to him, “You better be ready for what I’m going to do to you once we’re out of here.” You’re still concentrating on picking up the sushi, but you can imagine the contraction of his throat from his audible gulp. “You’re lucky I’m even waiting that long,” you add to make him restless, sitting once again into the pillowed backing so you can observe the pathetic nerves crawling up his spine.

a/n: i don’t really know how i feel about this one because smut isn’t much of my forte but if you guys seem to like it, i think i’ll make a part two. also i apologize if the flipping between past and present is confusing, this was originally just going to be a rlly short drabble so i didn’t plan out a solid plot until halfway through. as always feel free to leave any feedback (a compliment, concern, critique, etc) in the form of a reblog, comment, or ask if you’d like. have a lovely day and thank you so much for reading <3

hi, just curious, are you still taking requests?

yes, i am!! :)

CREAMINGGGG YOU DID THE OIKAWA ASK SO FUCKING GOOD THANK YOU FOR MY MEAL 🧎🏼‍♀️

AHHHH THANK YOU i was kinda nervous about it at first but i like the finished product

also no problem it was a lot of fun to write :3 eat up 🗣🗣

hey guys just a reminder that if you ever wanted to request something that this week would be a good time to do so!! i’m on spring break so besides seeing old friends i’m pretty much free to write and such.

i can do headcanons, one shots, drabbles, etc just make sure to check out my rules before you suggest anything :)

Manga panel redraw of Iwa-chan and Shittykawa