Thread by @offmain1315

Ok I know I already did #sakuatsu fake dating but…I have no excuse, I’m just doing another one.

Except is it really fake dating if only one of them knows? Bc I’m thinking 3rd year Atsumu who is trying to prove that he’s over Kita and that he’s not still moping Osamu’s quitting.

So he’s like “No I haven’t been just sulking around, I’ve been talking to my BOYFRIEND. Why haven’t you seen us together? Because he lives in Tokyo, obviously.”

Osamu just rolls his eyes, used to Atsumu’s lies, but the rest of the team is like…not sure whether to buy it or not.

To them they’re like… that would be a hell of a lie, coming out to all of us just to seem like he wasn’t pouting, right?

(Atsumu just assumed they all already knew he was bi. He doesn’t exactly shy away from flirting with anyone he crosses paths with.)

And Osamu starts to doubt himself after Atsumu sticks to it; normally he’s caught out and caves pretty quickly. And it’s true that they haven’t really spoken since Osamu said he would be quitting after this year. Maybe Atsumu did go and get himself a boyfriend in that period.

The hardest part to believe is that his secret long-distance boyfriend is Sakusa Kiyoomi. But- it’s SUCH a wild lie, it almost must be true?

What Atsumu doesn’t want to admit more than anything is that he didn’t just blurt Omi’s name in the moment. He actually planned this one.

First, the pitying looks over the whole unrequited mess with Kita needed to stop. Inarizaki isn’t a small school, but you’d think it was the way the rumor mill worked. Kita graduated and suddenly everyone and their sister were giving Atsumu these disgusting Looks.

There’s only so many times you can say “it was just a crush, I’m over it” with no one believing you. Atsumu needed proof.

Next, Osamu thinks he’s such hot shit, carving his own path going off to start a business. And Atsumu is doing the - clearly superior - thing staying with volleyball.

But “staying” now seems like a passive choice. Nevermind all the work he put in, it sounds like he’s complacent.

So he needed a way to up the clout of being in the volleyball world. Like, you know, his hot new boyfriend being the top wing spiker in the nation.

The distance and Omi’s personality seal him as a choice. He isn’t here to contradict Atsumu’s lie in person, and he’s too damn intimidating for anyone to try to call up and question.

So Atsumu can muster full confidence when he tells the team he’s been dating Omi for weeks.

He considers giving Omi a heads-up. He’s got his email from the All-Japan camp (…ok, from Komori at the All-Japan camp). But trying to explain any of this whole situation to Omi, whom he has contacted exactly 3 times over the years, makes Atsumu want to puke with shame.

However, Atsumu clearly didn’t think this through /enough/, or he would have been smart enough to start this lie after the Inter-High was over.

In the time before he realizes his mistake, he maybe has a little too much fun with it.

He starts sentences with “Omi-kun says…” to back up opinions that are definitely just his own. When Sunarin is boring him, he’ll crank up the radio and sigh “this song reminds me’a Omi.”

And, okay, maybe he takes things too far with Osamu. But his twin is especially pissing him off with his “you’re a shitty, filthy liar” attitude and CLEARLY needs to be taken down a peg.

So Atsumu waits until he hears the front door close, the sound of Osamu returning from his part-time job at the restaurant (barf), and then wedges his phone in between his ear and shoulder and shoves a hand down his pants.

He angles his body so he’s facing away but his actions are unmistakable, and he gets the timing just right to moan “Yeah, Omi-Omi, ya like that?” as Osamu is opening their bedroom door.

He hears “oh my /God/, yer the worst” and the door slamming shut again.

He has to muffle his laughter in a pillow not to blow his cover, but Osamu stops calling him a liar after that.

It’s a week before the Inter-High when Atsumu realizes what he’s done. He’s looking over the bracket with disinterest when “Itachiyama” glares back up at him and panic beats hard in his throat.

Riseki slaps him on the back and says “Bet yer lookin’ forward to seein’ that boyfriend of yers” and Atsumu almost bites his tongue clean through. He forces a smile and makes a vaguely affirmative noise before power-walking to the bathroom to have a breakdown.

He tries to take stock of his options.

1) Come clean to the team
Absolutely not

2) Contact Omi and get him to play along for the week
Omi is more likely to impale him on an antenna as soon as Atsumu explains what he did

3) Denial until the last possible moment

Atsumu returns to practice with a cheery smile and a spring in his step. Everything will be fine.

On the train ride up to the Inter-High, Atsumu puts in his earbuds and cranks up the volume until he can hear neither his teammates nor his own thoughts. The underclassmen call him dedicated and focused on volleyball. Osamu calls him a jackass.

In the crowded entrance hall, Atsumu scans for yellow and green. He finds it, and says in relief when one head of dark curls is missing.

“I’m sure you’ll have plenty’a time to maul your cutesy boyfriend later,” Osamu says, mistaking his relief for disappointment.

He does spot Omi just before they march out onto the floor, but Atsumu is already holding the Hyogo sign high and Sunarin is shoving him forward into line.

He thinks he catches Omi’s eyes for a second, flashing a smile, but Omi’s face doesn’t change at all so it’s hard to tell.

By the end of day one, Atsumu is starting to hope the entire tournament will pass this way. Things are hectic, everyone is busy- they might just keep missing each other, and Atsumu can tell his team they snuck off on their own when no one was looking.

Hope is a sucker’s game.

Just as an exhausted Inarizaki is talking about where to go for food, Omi slinks into the lobby. Atsumu’s back is turned to him, but Gin calls out, “Sakusa-san!” as soon as he sees him and Atsumu freezes.

Atsumu turns with a too-wide smile as Omi veers toward their group.

“Are you gettin’ dinner with us? We were just decidin’ where ta go.” The worst thing is, Gin probably thinks he’s helping. Atsumu could throttle him.

“He’s probably tired, too, you guys, leave ‘im alone,” Atsumu tries. His voice sounds weak, even to him.

“And pass up a chance for interrogation? Unlikely.” Sunarin looks like a shark scenting blood in the water.

Atsumu panics and grabs Omi’s arm.

“Give Omi-Omi and I a sec!“ he says, then bolts. Omi doesn’t put up as much resistance as Atsumu expected. Possibly he’s preoccupied deciding how to eviscerate Atsumu for touching him.

Atsumu finds an empty room he’s not /totally/ sure they’re allowed to enter and pulls them in.

“We’re datin’.”

Omi’s face goes totally slack.

“Excuse me?”

“I told my team we’re datin’.” Atsumu pushes a hand through his hair and doesn’t meet Omi’s eyes.

“Look, Samu’s quittin’ volleyball and I used ta’ have a crush on our old captain, so I needed someone hotter’n Kita /and/ better than Samu at volleyball an’ then maybe I just kinda kept it up for a while, an’ now they think we’ve been datin’ all this time.”

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“How long do they think we’ve been dating?”

Atsumu blinks. That wasn’t the first question he’d expected Omi to have. “Uh, I dunno, seven, eight weeks?”

“Tch. Which is it, seven or eight?”

Atsumu feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience. “I-“

“What kind of boyfriend doesn’t know when the first date was?”

Atsumu’s head jerks up, and he’d swear Omi was smirking behind that mask.

Is Omi… fucking with him? Does Sakusa Kiyoomi have a sense of humor??

Atsumu feels his body flush hot and cold. Something in his chest slips loose.

“Seven weeks, three days,” he bullshits with total confidence. “But we didn’t exactly have a first date, we live in different cities.”

Omi hums and nods. “You didn’t make some grand gesture, then? Sneak off and take the Shinkansen up just to beg me to go out with you?”

“As if!” Atsumu’s face turns bright red. “Who’s sayin’ you didn’t come down and ask /me/ out, huh?”

Omi levels him with a look and makes a sweeping gesture to encompass the situation they’re currently in.

“…All right, fine. I asked ya out. But no beggin’.”

“Who knows why I even said yes,” Omi murmurs. Atsumu feels lightheaded.

“But ya did say yes, huh?”

“Are there any other details you told them that I should know about?”

Atsumu’s mind flicks over the past two months. Mostly, he’s kept it vague, and no one was really asking for many details.

“Uh- I sent ya flowers, once.” Sunarin had caught Atsumu shopping online with Osamu’s card, and that was the first thing his panicked mind conjured up. Omi nods.

“You learned that was a mistake. Too much pollen.”

Atsumu files that information away, as if he’s going to use it.

“Don’t touch me skin-to-skin,” Omi says, “and you’re paying for my dinner.”

“I… what?”

“While we’re out with your team tonight,” Omi explains with long-suffering patience.

Atsumu whips his head around. He’s not sure if he’s looking for hidden cameras or someone else Omi could be talking to in this empty room. He finds neither, and when he looks back Omi’s on his phone.

“…so I can touch ya through clothes? What about yer hair?”

Omi narrows his eyes like he thinks it’s a trick question.

“That’s fine.” He looks back to his phone and finishes typing a message as he heads back out the door. Atsumu follows him in a daze.

Atsumu shakes himself into regaining his composure before the team sees him again. He slings an arm over Omi’s shoulders, careful to avoid his neck, and tugs him in a bit as he calls out,

“All right, Omi-Omi’s joinin’ in. Didja figure out where we’re headin’ yet?”

They all head to a sashimi place a few blocks away. Atsumu’s arm stays wrapped around Omi the entire walk. Samu keeps throwing them sideways looks, but doesn’t say anything directly.

Omi sits beside Atsumu once they get their table and produces sanitizing wipes from who-knows-where to start disinfecting everything in front of him. Atsumu finds it strangely endearing.

He catches Samu making another face at him, so Atsumu sticks out his tongue.

The dinner goes more smoothly than Atsumu expected. Most of the questions thrown Omi’s way are about his game today, his performance, Itachiyama’s chances in the tournament.

(Easy, superb, and obviously they’ll win again, respectively)

Samu does seem to be angling for more information about their relationship, but he’s more subtle about it. Omi answers all of his questions with point-blank bluntness and none of the elaboration Samu is clearly needling for. Atsumu has to hold back from laughing in Samu’s face.

Then, of course, Atsumu gets too complacent. He’s arguing with Riseki about serving strategy for tomorrow’s match. Atsumu can’t fathom /why/ this punk won’t listen to him, after two years, after all of Atsumu’s best server awards- and that’s when it slips out.

“Omi-Omi says buildin’ up in power’s a waste’a time. Why not start out at 100% if ya can, that’s what warm-ups are for, an’-“

“I did not say that.”

Atsumu freezes and turns to his left. Omi’s eyes are boring holes into him. Atsumu licks his lips, and darts his gaze away.

“Sure ya did, Omi,” he says, mentally projecting /play along/, “the other week, doncha remem-“

“I didn’t say that,” Omi doubles down. Was this his play from the start? Pretend to go along and help Atsumu out with his ruse, then reveal all in front of everyone?

“Atsumu,” Omi says, his voice sounding dangerous, but- is that a smile? “Have you been using me to win arguments again? I told you to stop making up shit and telling everyone I said it, you’ll make me look like as much of an idiot as you are.”

Samu and Sunarin howl with laughter. Atsumu slumps over the table with a wail he only halfway has to fake.

He has never felt so accurately and brutally called out in his life. How did Omi even guess all that? Atsumu sure as hell hadn’t told him.

“Omi~!” Atsumu cries, covering his head with his arms. “Why’re ya so mean ta me? Can’t ya let me have it, just once?”

“I let you have plenty,” Omi says, and returns to eating his food. Atsumu’s glad his face is still covered to hide his blush.

Was that an innuendo? Does Omi tell jokes AND make innuendos? Atsumu isn’t going to survive the night.

Atsumu eventually sits back up, but stays slouching with a definitive pout. Omi looks at him sideways and pinches his hip.

Omi keeps cutting Atsumu to pieces for the rest of dinner, and each time Atsumu falls a little bit more in love with him.

Sunarin offers to show him a video of Atsumu flubbing a serve in a practice match, and Omi says “I’ve seen him making a fool of himself plenty, thank you.”

Gin questions Omi smacking Atsumu’s hand away when he tries to steal food off his plate, and Omi tells him “Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean I’ll allow him to act like a brat.”

And then Omi finally relents and takes Atsumu’s chopsticks and feeds him a bite from his own plate, and when Atsumu smirks at him he says, “You’ll need the extra calories more than I will; you looked ready to collapse after just playing straight sets today.”

Atsumu ducks out to hit the bathroom as they’re getting ready to leave. When he comes back, he notices Samu standing /just/ too close to Omi with a serious look on his face. Omi looks as nonplussed as ever. His mask is back on.

Omi’s eyes meet Atsumu’s as he approaches them.

“I’ll remember that,” he says to Samu. Atsumu frowns, and then Omi loops his arm around Atsumu’s elbow. “I’ll be taking him now.”

Before Atsumu can muster a response, Samu’s waving his hand and saying “Yeah, yeah, don’t keep him up all night, we’ve got matches tomorrow.”

Omi’s the one dragging Atsumu away this time, out of the restaurant and onto the street.

“What was all that?” Atsumu asks as soon as he’s sure no one’s trailing out the door after them.

“Osamu-san was feeling protective, I think. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t fucking with you.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes. “Ugh. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s fine. Obviously he cares about his brother.”

“Gross,” Atsumu says. Omi snorts. Atsumu looks around, and realizes the direction they’re walking for the first time.

“Hey, our hotel isn’t this way, Omi-Omi.”

“/Your/ hotel isn’t this way,” Omi says. “We’re going back to mine.”

Atsumu’s brain is nothing but static for about fifteen seconds. Finally, after trying a few times to speak, he manages, “We are?”

“You’re in the same city as your boyfriend for the first time since you started dating,” Omi says. “What do you think I’d do, let you go off alone to go to bed early?”

Atsumu’s head hurts. He’s tired and over-full and drunk on where Omi’s arm is still linked with his.

And he doesn’t know if all these things they’ve been saying, all these plans and lies they’ve been weaving all night are still just hypotheticals. He stares at the side of Omi’s face, as his expression gives away nothing of what he thinks.

And that’s when Atsumu decides to make the call himself.

Omi’s had enough of a say in this night, leading him around by the nose at every turn. He’s just been thinking he should be grateful that Omi was willing to play along for him. It’s time Atsumu grab hold of what he wants.

[Oh hey y’all this is about to get NSFW & I didn’t tag it at the start, consider this your warning ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ]

And, obviously, what he wants is Omi. Of course he wants Omi. Has he always wanted Omi?

Atsumu didn’t actually choose him for this because of some secret crush, but walking by Omi’s side, riding in the elevator with him, it all feels inevitable.

Atsumu glances around the hotel room, taking in two beds and extra suitcase on the floor.

“Ya got a roommate?”

“Motoya. I told him to spend the night somewhere else.”

Atsumu doesn’t fully process this; his brain gets as far as “alone in a room with Omi” before switching off.

“Omi?”

Omi turns back to look at him. Atsumu puts both hands on his shoulders and pushes down until Omi’s sitting on the edge of his bed. Omi blinks up at him for just a second before Atsumu’s dropping to his knees, running his hands up Omi’s thighs.

“I know ya said no touchin’, no skin-to-skin earlier, but I really wanna blow ya.”

Omi stares and stares and stares at him. He looks like Atsumu just threw water in his face. Atsumu licks his lips, and Omi’s eyes track the movement.

“Please?”

Omi nods wordlessly, and Atsumu’s fumbling to undo his pants as quickly as possible, before he can change his mind.

He doesn’t bother to stroke Omi fully hard, once he gets him free, just starts licking stripes up his cock. It doesn’t take long, anyway.

Atsumu cups his sack in one hand and lets his eyes flutter shut as he swallows Omi down. Fuck, but he’s long. Atsumu’s forcing his throat relaxed to take him all the way down. Omi’s breath sounds labored, and his hand has found it’s way to fisting in Atsumu’s hair.

Atsumu could live on this feeling, on Omi’s cock hitting the back of his throat again and again, on the punched-out sounds Omi’s making. He opens his eyes at one point, only to find Omi pressing the back of his hand against his mouth. It doesn’t do much to muffle his voice.

Atsumu lets the hand rolling Omi’s balls slip back to stroke at the skin behind them, firm pressure to oppose the soft slide of his tongue around the head of Omi’s cock.

It’s not long after that that Omi’s gripping his hair even tighter and groaning, “Atsumu- Atsumu I’m-“

Atsumu can’t think of anything better than Omi moaning his name as he spasms and comes down Atsumu’s throat. Atsumu has to press the heel of his hand into his own crotch just to relieve the pressure of the surge of heady pleasure he gets from it.

Omi is panting as he looks down at Atsumu. Atsumu can see the moment Omi registers that he’s touching himself. He makes a strangled sort of noise and flops onto his back, throwing one arm over his eyes.

“I’m normally the first to leave, after our matches are done.”

It’s such a non sequitur, Atsumu almost forgets how horny he still is. He licks his lips again, and tries to shift upward to see Omi’s still-covered face.

“Huh?”

“I was staying behind, after everyone else left, earlier.”

Omi peeks out from under his arm, and Atsumu’s face is blank. Omi sighs and sits up. He straightens out his pants and scoots back, pulling his legs up onto the bed.

“How is it you just sucked my dick and it’s still this embarrassing to admit that I like you?”

Atsumu’s stomach swoops like he missed a step on a staircase. He licks his lips and leans forward over the bed, closer to Omi.

“Ya like me?”

Omi covers his face again, this time with a hand. “Yes. I was staying behind earlier to look for you. To. Ask you out.”

“Omi… didja agree to pretend ta date me because ya already wanted to /really/ date me?”

“I don’t recall agreeing to /pretend/ to date you,” Omi says. He’s blushing red down to his neck.

“Omi-Omi!” Atsumu crawls onto the bed, grabbing Omi’s arms to pull his hands off his face.

“Didja agree to let me /blow/ you before telling me we were really datin’??”

Omi looks directly at him.

“That was an asshole move on my part. I thought you might not say yes to dating, and… well, you were offering…”

Atsumu is delighted. “Ya thought I’d offer to suck yer dick but not wanna date ya?”

“I don’t understand anything you choose to do.”

“That’s fair.” Atsumu drops his hands to the bed, still holding Omi’s arms. “I did offer it hopin’ you’d say yes even if ya didn’t wanna date me.”

Omi snorts, a smile stealing onto his face. “Maybe we are both idiots.”

“Speak for yerself, everything about this plan has worked out great fer me.”

Omi slips a hand over to the inside of Atsumu’s thigh. He’d gone soft as they talked, but his body seems to remember immediately what it had been up to a few minutes ago.

“Everything worked out? So it’s all over now, then?” Omi asks with innocence in his tone.

“Everything’s- gonna work out. ‘S what I meant. Right?”

Omi threads the fingers of his free hand through Atsumu’s hair and tugs him into the crook of his neck.

“I think we can figure it out, yes.”

(Later on, Atsumu sits bolt upright and says, “Wait, ya told Komori to leave for the night- when?”

“Before we left the arena for dinner.”

“But ya said when we got here, ya still weren’t even sure I’d say yes?”

“Well,” Omi says, tugging him back down, “I wasn’t sure, but I hoped.”)

[/end]