Wicked Game | Miya Atsumu

thirty.

warning: minor nsfw

Atsumu snuggled his head on my lap while my fingers playing with his soft blonde. He mumbled stuff in his lips which made me emit a soft chuckle at his cuteness. Atsumu opened his eyes slowly, catching up with the silhouette of me through his blurry vision. "Y/N?" he called my name softly with his sleepy voice. "Hey good morning" I greeted his, leaning down to leave a soft peck on his temple. His hair was messy but he was cute with it. He flashed a smile while he moved his arm up to touch my cheeks. My cheekbone was rubbed with his thumb. Atsumu rise up from my bed and leaned in closer to me. His eyes latched on my plump lips. He wanted to claim his morning kisses from me obviously.

"Ahem..." Mika cleared her throat, causing him to turn his head towards the lady. His body jolted up in shock before he sat up straight next to me. He cleared his throat in embarrassment. Seeing Atsumu being this dumb in the morning got me cackled. He's so cute. "I'm sorry to interrupt but..." Mika averted her eyes to look at me and gave a teasing smile. With a scoff, I rolled my eyes at her. "Come on, Mika" I shook my head before turning my head at Atsumu. "We have class at 11, right?" I asked. He looked at the time on his phone screen, humming after. "I'll get back to my dorm and be here to pick you up at 10" he got out of the bed, taking his stuff and sweater. "Ah, you're going back already?" Mika asked. Atsumu turned his head to look at the brown-haired girl, giving her a huh face. "I didn't get to talk to you yet" the smile on her, it was a psychotic one. "Oh my God..." I sighed, shaking my head. Mika was just trying to intimidate this guy but did she even know that that was a failure? Her pretty face doesn't scare anyone or more won't get to scare literally anyone. "Stop scaring him off" I snorted. Atsumu seemed confused. "Just don't listen to her, love" I got up, walking Atsumu to the front door. He put on his shoes and kissed my forehead. "I'll text you later" he said before I witness his figure disappear from the corridor.

I turned to Mika as soon as I shut the door closed. "Talk about what?" I quirked an eyebrow. It did somehow make me curious. She got up with a mysterious smile plastering on her pretty face. "You're curious aren't you?" she asked and took her steps forward. I rolled my eyes playfully. "I just want to be a good friend for you" she whined. "I just want to warn him that if he ever hurt you again, then he'll be losing his boner" she growled. Wait what? My eyes squinted as I let out a soft laugh. "Touch his dick, and Daishou will be losing his" I gave her a threatening smile. She crumpled her forehead with arms crossing over her chest. "Hey! I was just joking! You're no fun" she rolled her eyes and walked into the bathroom to take her shower.

I placed down my bag on my desk, settling my bum down comfortably on my seat. Legs and arms crossing, my back flattened against the seat. Atsumu had his stuff next to mine yet he made his way to the back of the class to join Suna and the others. "Where's Osamu?" he asked, dapping hands with the others. "We're the one who's supposed to ask you that" Ginjima cackled between his lollipop. Atsumu rested his bum at the edge of the empty table, his hand reaching for his phone and dialed Osamu. Talking about bad luck, Osamu didn't pick up any of his calls. "Did you fight with him?" Suna asked while chewing on his bubblegum. Atsumu clicked his tongue, shaking his head in confusion. "Nah, we were just good" Atsumu's thumb tapping his phone screen, forming a sentence before sending the text to his twin brother.

Miya Atsumu. 10:56am.
- Class's starting. Where are you?

"He's here" Kosaku tapped on Atsumu's bicep, noticing the presence of the lecturer for our first class. They quickly dismissed and going back to their respective seats.

***

OSAMU'S POV

I know I was supposed to be in class around this hour but I don't feel like attending it. I ditched the class to practice on my serve instead. I bounced the ball a few times before throwing it into the air and spiked it. I missed another target. My serves were extraordinarily bad today. None of them hit the bottles which I set up as my target points. The frustration grew bigger in me. I groaned out loud, wiping my sweats off my face with my jersey. My chest moved up and down as I was trying to catch my breath. I picked up another ball, bouncing it again, and did another serve. Again, I missed my target. "Ugh!" I groaned. What was wrong with me?