Thread by @murcielagoAO3

#nsfw established miyahina four thoughts...

after msby, shouyou goes back to brazil. of course he does. they all get it, and can deal with it for a year or two. three at the most, he promises. they can visit. he'll visit too. it's not really the end, even if it feels like a

breakup because the balance is broken, one of them is lost, trapped inside a phone screen or laptop microphone while the rest of them float in a directionless orbit because the sun they love is just /gone/.

natsu is inconsolable. she puts on a brave face for her brother when

they have their video calls. he always calls her first, talks with her 1:1 because she's his nacchan, and it helps, but she still winds up curled in a ball in atsumu's lap every night for the first month.

atsumu holds her close and if his shoulder ends up wet he ignores it and

combs fingers through her long hair until she falls asleep. or, until she reaches for him and trails sweet kisses up his neck to his waiting mouth. he's happy to give her what she needs, however she needs it because he's also shadowed by the burning ache shouyou left behind.

atsumu's seen how shouyou makes love to her and he does the same, kisses her temple, her hair, nuzzles under her chin as he rolls his hips, fucking into her hard and sweet, takes their mutual longing and twists and pulls until nacchan is gripping the headboard slats and writhing

through her third consecutive orgasm. when her whimpers quiet down he pauses deep inside her, then kisses her neck and throat and clavicle until she relaxes into the exact kind of soft breathy laughter her brother makes when he knows how close atsumu is, and how much he's been

holding back.

she strokes through his sweaty hair with both hands and tugs him to her mouth, kissing him with tongue and teeth and raspy moans, then whispers that he better give her /everything/ and licks a wet stripe up his cheek the way she's seen her brother do it when at his

most mischievous.

atsumu licks her right back, eliciting a giggle. then he wraps her hands around the headboard slats once more, looking her in the eye before sliding out of her and snapping his hips all the way back in, savoring her gasp. he folds her in half and fucks her the

way he fucks shouyou when provoked, the weight of the 17,000 km of the planet that separates them from shouyou driving him to force yet another orgasm out of natsu before claiming his own, head tipped back and tears sliding down his face.

he and natsu spend a lot of time

holding each other, running hands along each other's arms or playing footsie under the table, and it helps, the physical affection is reassuring, trying to make up for what's been altered.

her red hair, her smaller stature fits into his nicely but natsu is not shouyou and

he loves her and loves what they share in bed and what they can do for each other but there are things she /can't/ do and it's not her fault but.

the longing. the craving. he's starting to squirm in his skin because he's used to shouyou and samu tumbling him on a regular basis

and samu's been elusive lately, working extra shifts and sleeping apart.

that doesn't stop atsumu from cornering him with a hungry kiss by the refrigerator and pushing the right buttons to get fucked over the dining room table so rough and hard he doesn't even come but the

sting of samu's teeth in the side of his neck and the intensity of samu's whispers in his ear the whole time are as satisfying to him as the sounds of osamu's climax echoing in their kitchen.

osamu isn't surprised atsumu would ambush him like this, and isn't really mad about it

either. the four of them share something special and something he hopes will last long enough for shouyou to come home to them.

seeing natsu and tsumu so upset makes him angry. and he misses shouyou too, so he's conflicted about it all even though his number one priority is,

and will always be, his twin. atsumu is the center of his universe and being cornered by his twin like that is a wake-up call that he's not been looking out for him enough. or nacchan, either.

osamu showers and slides into bed with them, reclaims his usual place and spoons

his brother and trails his fingers over nacchan's hip, pulling her in tighter where they sandwich atsumu between them.

like shouyou, nacchan likes to watch and when atsumu starts to wake up and rock back into osamu's body he shows her every detail as he fucks atsumu into the

pillows, a moaning, wanton thing that surrenders to his whims.

she's got the same gleam in her eye as her brother, fingers between her legs and pinching her nipples into peaks, biting her lip and sighing when he finally quits edging atsumu and lets him come, wordless and

desperate.

osamu watches her so close to her own climax and realizes he misses her, maybe had been avoiding her big eyes and red hair and ability to captivate them all, just like shouyou. he shifts so he can tug her into a kiss, then slides down her body and puts his mouth on

her mound, teasing her right over the edge and drawing out her most primal cries.

she joins them on occasion, helps take atsumu apart. she starts to seek him out again, slips into the shower with him and swallows him down before he fucks her into the tiled wall and none of it

resembles what he and shouyou were like but at this point maybe it's no longer needed for it to do so. the three of them, mismatched pieces, are finding a new way to interlock.

shouyou is diligent about calling them, doesn't let too much time go between facetime or video calls.

he aches for them, /all/ of them, and refuses to give them up despite the decision he had to make for his career.

sometimes they just talk, individually or together, and other times they get each other off, individually or together, with whispered words and wandering hands and

eyes glued to the screen. he savors his moments with them, counts the days until he can visit them or host any one, two, or three of them in brazil, even if it's not the same at all through a camera lens, not ideal, not really enough.

twice a month he allows himself to pick up

a temporary partner for a night, feel real hands on his body and drown in the physical acts that keep his longings at bay. brazil has any number of sassy young women, bratty bleached blonds with legs for days, and men with hooded gazes who resist his dominance in a delicious game

to see who will submit first.

he keeps these trysts to himself. they probably know about them anyway, but there's no need to open that box and hurt each other even more than the current circumstances.

he calls. they call. he'll visit. and they'll visit. and that will have to

do for a while until his solo voyage loops him back around to the people he wants to make proud, to the people who make his heart keep on beating, to the people he calls /home/.

🥺😔😭💞

@threadreaderapp unroll