Lynd ☾⋆。˚ C☻mms Open! 🎄

Lynd ☾⋆。˚ C☻mms Open! 🎄



#SakuAtsu | truth or drink | Rated T (#Haikyuu) __ 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦? If Kiyoomi had to choose, he’d be torn between Miya and Hinata, both whom beamed as bright as the sun, and were infectious with it.

Or, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘏𝘈𝘋 𝘵𝘰? If he was honest, all of his teammates were kissable. But Kiyoomi disagreed with a lot of hygiene practices and if he had to choose then it would either be Inunaki, who washed his hands for two minutes

and always smelt of mint or Miya, who always smelt so clean. Standing next to Miya was like standing next to a detergent commercial featuring Kiyoomi’s favourite scent. Miya’s clothes smelt like lavender, and his skin smelt like the woodsy cologne he used, and his breath was

always minty and fresh from an entire foot away. But if Kiyoomi had to 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 someone, as this stupid game of Truth or Drink demanded, then darn it, he’d take a shot and only secretly admit that, if he really had to climb anyone, it would be Miya fucking Atsumu.

Miya with his gorgeous honey eyes, and lazy little smirks and tree trunk thighs. Miya who always made snappy remarks that made his blood boil, who sometimes looked at Kiyoomi as though he was sizing him up. Hell, Kiyoomi didn’t even need the incentive of these stupid shots.

𝘖𝘮𝘪-𝘬𝘶𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦, Atsumu preened every time Kiyoomi picked him. “Keep dreaming, Miya,” Kiyoomi answered, even as their eyes met across the circle with so much blatant heat, Kiyoomi felt his skin throb with it.

When Miya later crowded him into a dark corner and stole a toe-curling kiss, Kiyoomi was not as surprised as he should be. “You’ve been staring at me,” Kiyoomi licked his lips, tasting mint and alcohol and Atsumu.

“You’re a pretty boy, Omi-kun,” Atsumu breathed, stroking a thumb over Kiyoomi’s slick lips. “Miya Atsumu likes me,” Kiyoomi mocked, smirking. “Fuck yeah he does,” Atsumu stole another kiss, looking possessed. “He really really does. Go out with me, Omi.”

“Kiss me again and I’ll consider it,” Kiyoomi tipped his head back lazily, drunk with the taste of it. When Miya—when 𝘈𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘶—kissed him again, it was with enough boldness to strip him of logical thought, breath and reservations.

Kiyoomi was so goddamn gone, he didn’t even care how pathetic it sounded when he ripped his mouth away to blurt, “fuck yeah take me out on a date, Miya.”

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