Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Atsumu Miya was secondary genderfluid, but lived life as an alpha, because it gave him more opportunities, and he hadn’t ever wanted to spread his legs for anyone.
That was a fact, of course, until the team had been out for drinks and dancing, and Kiyoomi had pressed up against him in the dim light of the club, and Atsumu felt so small and surrounded, and instead of turning around with a snarky grin and a raised eyebrow, he’d whined.
Series
- Part 1 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
- Part 1 of Secondary Genderfluid
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Kiyoomi grabbed Atsumu’s other leg and pressed him against the wall. “Stop, trying, to fucking, kick me,” he growled into Atsumu’s ear.
If Atsumu were feeling generous, he’d be impressed at the strength Kiyoomi was displaying, by holding him up against the wall. His inner Omega would preen at the idea that such a strong Alpha wanted him so badly he was willing to fight this hard for it.
But his inner Alpha told that bitch to shut the fuck up, because there was a bastard Alpha in front of him who deserved to get his eyes fucking scratched out.
“I’m only jus’ gettin’ started, asshole,” Atsumu said, before headbutting Kiyoomi in the nose.
Series
- Part 2 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
- Part 2 of Secondary Genderfluid
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Tobio Kageyama never expected to be an Omega.
His parents were Alphas, his sister was an Alpha, even his grandfather. There hadn’t been an Omega in his family for four generations. He’d checked, once he’d found out he was one.He didn’t take his Omega presentation very well. He was already gangly and tall, not cute or soft like the other Omegas at school. And he was too pissed off to be submissive, to anyone. He couldn’t believe he was an Omega. The irony.
Series
- Part 3 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Kiyoomi could look, but he couldn’t touch.
He could handle that.
What he couldn’t handle was the fucking smell.
The smell of his Omega in his heat, the smell of Atsumu as he reached his pleasure over and over again, without him.
They’d agreed this would be fun, but that was before, before Kiyoomi was tied to a chair and made to watch.
Made to watch Atsumu, laid out in their nest, as he glistened and moaned, looking Kiyoomi in his eyes as he came, over and over again, his gaze unbroken even as he voice became more and more shattered.
Series
- Part 4 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Welcome to Trope City, Home to Trope City State University by KHShip for Aranwen
Fandoms: Haikyuu!!
13 Apr 2022
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Summary
Tobio had worked at the florist’s for over a year, and in that time the retail space next door in the strip mall had been empty. It had used to be a mailbox place, his boss said, but nobody sent mail anymore.
Tobio showed back up to his job in September, happy to be finishing his final year of university. But it seemed that over the summer break, while he was back home, someone new had moved in to the empty storefront.
His happy feeling faded as he looked over at the new neon sign. It read “Tattoo and Piercing.”
Why was Tobio annoyed? A new store meant people coming by. And while he had a customer-service job, he didn’t think anyone getting a tattoo was going to be interested in flowers of the non-inked variety.
A lack of customers for his shop didn’t matter to Tobio. He preferred it that way, actually. Less customers meant less interaction, and more time to fulfill the orders that came in over the phone for corporate clients, funerals, and weddings.
No, Tobio was annoyed with a Tattoo shop, because he knew one type of person who loved tattoos. Alphas.
Series
- Part 5 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
Atsumu was horny. So, so horny.
It doesn’t help that he was stuck at work, while Kiyoomi had the day off. The lucky motherfucker kept sending him pictures.
They weren’t even sexy pictures. Not at first.
The first one was of the sink and surrounding countertops, which sparkled in the early morning sun. Kiyoomi was proud of his work. He’d said in the past that a clean kitchen was sexy.
Atsumu replied to the picture. Said a clean Kiyoomi was sexy. And that he’d like to clean Kiyoomi. With his tongue.
Kiyoomi had sent back a silly gif in return, one of their inside jokes. Atsumu was so fucking in love with him it hurt.
Series
- Part 6 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
Kiyoomi didn’t mind being roommates with Atsumu.
At first, sure, he’d bristled at the idea of dorming with anyone, but it was a part of the athletic scholarship to attend TCSU, and at least Atsumu was clean.
They were also on the same team, which made it so there was always a topic of conversation, as they hung out in their room, studying or doing homework, or before they fell asleep.
Not that Atsumu fell asleep in their room often. He had a different girl every other night it seemed, but at least he was considerate enough to meet them at their place, or at his brother’s nearby apartment.
Listening to Atsumu brag about his conquests was bad, but having to see all the hickeys and bruises all over his body in the locker room was even worse. Kiyoomi didn’t let on how annoying he found the whole thing. He kept it to himself as he rolled his eyes.
Why /did/ it bother him, anyway? He wasn’t upset by Bokuto going on and on about the love of his life, wasn’t annoyed by Hinata’s graphic descriptions of all the fucking he was up to. What made Atsumu so different?
Series
- Part 7 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Labels Don't Matter (Unless You Want Them To) by KHShip for chaotic_k
Fandoms: Haikyuu!!
03 May 2022
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Summary
Atsumu and Kiyoomi had been dating for a month.
Dating! Atsumu Miya! Yes, he was very surprised, too.
He had never “dated” anyone before. Unless you called drinks at a party followed by several orgasms in a dorm room “dating.” Which he didn’t.
Not now, now that he knew what it was like to go on an actual date.
Sure, they drank at parties sometimes, and sure, they’d had their share of blowjobs and handjobs and orgasms together, but there were other things too. Things Atsumu never knew he had wanted to do before, before Kiyoomi.
There was getting pizza slices at midnight together, eating them on the curb outside the convenience store, laughing at Kiyoomi getting sauce on his nose somehow.
There was watching movies and adding snarky commentary, but now they watched the movie curled up next to each other, sharing the same blanket.
There was walking each other to class, and if they both woke up early enough, maybe a coffee date at a cafe, their pinkies linked under the table.
Series
- Part 8 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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“We’re going to need you to come with us,” Tanaka said, his voice shaky, his gun steady.
“Is it about Shou?” Tobio asked, one eyebrow raised in question. Of course it was about Shou. How could it not be? The three of them were inseparable. And Tobio didn’t see Shouyou in the backseat of the car, so something must be going on.
“Yeah,” Noya said, before Tanaka quickly shushed him. Or attempted to. Once Noya was talking, there really was no shutting him up. “It’s about Shouyou.”
Shouyou Hinata, the heir to the Karasuno crime family. Feared Yakuza, Omega, and Asshole.
Series
- Part 10 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
Kiyoomi couldn’t stop sneezing.
He wasn’t getting sick, he’d taken his temperature and didn’t have a fever. No sore throat, no cough, no congestion, nothing to explain the sneezing.
He decided to clean the apartment. Maybe it’s dusty in here, he thought. And that’s why I keep getting the sneezes.
Series
- Part 11 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
Tobio Kageyama met Shouyou Hinata at the breakfast buffet.
Technically the buffet was open all day, and it could have been any meal, and technically the board outside said they were currently serving lunch, but Tobio had just gotten up, so technically it was breakfast.
He had been sleeping a lot on the cruise, much to the consternation of his parents. They were the ones who had made him come, had told him it would be good to get out, have a little adventure. They'd begged and cajoled and paid for Tobio's ticket, and in the end, they'd threatened to call his boss themselves, like he wasn't a 32 year old man and quite capable of requesting his own vacation time off work.
Series
- Part 13 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
Tobio Kageyama had never been on a hike before. But, he thought, if a dumbass like Shouyou Hinata could do it, it couldn't be that hard.
Not that Shouyou was dumb. Or an ass. He was actually kind of smart. At least as smart as me, Tobio thought, and ignored the voice that replied that that wasn't very smart at all.
Tobio was in good shape. He’d had a gym membership since he was 16, and he was no slouch in the cardio or weightlifting department. You can do this, he thought, pumping himself up mentally.
He was nervous for some reason. He told himself it was because of the hike. It was definitely not because he was going to leave the boat for the first time since he'd been on the cruise. And it was definitely not because he was spending his day with Shouyou.
Series
- Part 14 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
Can you ache for something you’ve never known?
He asked himself that, as he noticed a place where his fingernail wasn’t smooth, but it wasn’t jagged, either. No place to find purchase, to be able to tear it away, chip off the old block. No, this needed a file, and time, to wear it down to something smooth and less rough, more palatable, easier to spend time with.
He wondered why he ached, if it was for something he’d never known. If he hadn’t known it, ever, why then, there was a hole where the puzzle piece was missing, that he could physically feel inside his chest? Maybe where his heart was, even though he knew the heart was simply a muscle for delivering blood through arteries and receiving it back through veins. Maybe his soul, then, if it truly existed. He’d heard rumors.
He didn’t know why he felt this way. He had friends, and they were enough, right? It was greedy, truly, to want more than that. He should be grateful for what he had, and stop asking for more.
Series
- Part 15 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
Bokuto came back from his five-kilometer run to see Atsumu ass up in the living room. He frowned. Of course he appreciated the sight, even if he had a boyfriend, but Atsumu was nearly underneath the couch, which was not standard operating procedure.
“Whatcha doing there, Tsum-Tsum?” Bokuto asked, his head cocking to the side in the way Keiji told him made him look even more like an owl. A horny owl was usually Bokuto’s reply, knowing his terrible joke would be rewarded with some very un-terrible kisses.
“Cleanin’,” was the muffled reply, since Atsumu was still mostly buried under the sofa. As Bokuto watched, his hand scooped out a used tissue, some mail they’d misplaced, and a single sock.
“My sock!” Bokuto chirped happily, retrieving it with glee. “Been looking for this one!”
Series
- Part 16 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
Atsumu is horny in the morning.
Deep down, this does not come as a surprise. Kiyoomi knows Atsumu has a level of horny that is constant, somewhere below simmering, twenty-four hours a day. For the past two weeks they’ve been dating each other, he’s gotten even more proof, in the way Atsumu can’t keep his hands off him, any time, any place, settling for kissing him so hard it takes his breath away when Kiyoomi tells him no, he won’t fuck him in a locked storage closet or an empty bathroom stall.
Kiyoomi has never tested the “in the morning” part. Atsumu hasn’t spent the night. Not yet. When Atsumu makes his declaration, loudly, under the influence of warm sake and even warmer thighs wedged against each other in the booth of the izakaya, Kiyoomi can’t help himself, the shit stirrer that he is. He demands proof.
The next morning he gets what he was promised.
Series
- Part 17 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
“What was that?”
“I already heard it from Coach. I don’t need to hear it from you.” Kiyoomi brushed past Atsumu, careful not to jostle him, even as he left him behind.
His long legs took the path to the nearest train station a lot quicker than Atsumu could. Kiyoomi faintly registered a “wait up, Omi,” that faded as the distance between them grew.
He knew he was being unfair. He knew Atsumu had just gotten off the crutches, had been excited to see Team Japan play, even if he was relegated to the area of the arena for people who couldn’t easily take the stairs. He’d whooped and hollered and watched them all lose.
Hot tears threatened Kiyoomi’s lashes. Not here. Then where?
He knew he wasn’t going back to the team dorms. He was unwilling to see the faces of his teammates. It had been bad enough to see Atsumu colored with such disappointment. A special kind of disappointment. Not at the team, but directed at him. Because it had been his fault.
Kiyoomi had played like garbage.
Series
- Part 18 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
Kiyoomi likes sour things.
Umbeoshi. Salt and Vinegar potato chips. Extra dirty martinis.
But Atsumu’s eyes are honey gold and he tastes just as sweet.
It happened like this:
Kiyoomi joined the Jackals a little over a year ago. Had decided it was the team that needed him the most.
That was, of course, before he’d known better.
Known how Atsumu could bring any hitter to the top of his game.
Hitting his sets was so sweet.
Easy as pie, a piece of cake. Short and sweet. Why were there so many idioms about sugar?
What would be the polar opposite, the contrast, the pitch black to the shiny gold?
Sour grapes. Salt in the wound. The bitter end.
Kiyoomi had always enjoyed the salt around the rim of the glass, the salt beading on an upper lip, the salt of his sweat as the fingernails burn. The sour copper tang of blood beneath his teeth.
But Atsumu is always so sweet.
Series
- Part 19 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
Kiyoomi is mean.
He’s always been mean. Everyone knows he’s mean.
This time he’s gone too far.
He can tell by the way Atsumu’s cheeks flush, like he’s been slapped.
Maybe the words were an assault, a physical blow, and Atsumu can feel it just as physically.
He turns away from Kiyoomi after his face is painted red, before Kiyoomi can see his eyes well up with tears. He assumes that’s what’s coming next. He’s seen Atsumu lose it over less.
This isn’t less. It’s more. It’s more and it’s mean and Kiyoomi can’t help himself, couldn’t let the barb slip a little less viciously. Couldn’t turn it into a joke by softening his delivery. He’s too tired and too angry and too pent up, and it isn’t Atsumu’s fault that he’s any of these things, but Atsumu’s the one who becomes his whipping boy.
Series
- Part 20 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
“Are y’nervous?” Atsumu asked, with a smile. Why shouldn’t he be happy? He was going home, a place of rest and comfort. He was in his element, surrounded by people who liked him, or at least knew him. Kiyoomi? He was a fish out of water, a city boy in the suburbs.
Plus, there was the whole dark-shadow-not-personable-hate-strangers thing he had going on. It didn’t really invite too many friendly smiles and warm hugs.
“Omi?” Atsumu said, and now he looked nervous, as if he were the worried one.
Kiyoomi realized he hadn’t answered his question. He considered lying, but Atsumu always saw through him whenever he tried it. He decided to tell the truth. “A little.”
“Tell me what you’re worried about.”
“Meeting your parents.”
“Yeah, okay,” Atsumu laughed. “But what specifically d’ya think’s gonna happen, that’s gonna be bad? Like, d’ya think y’re gonna accidentally insult my Ma? Or punch my Dad? Or rip a huge fart n’fronta them r’somethin’?”
“How does your mind come up with this shit?” Kiyoomi sputtered. “Of course I’m not worried about punching your dad, why the hell—” he paused and considered the worst case scenario. “Did any of these actually happen before?”
Series
- Part 21 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle
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Summary
“I need you to hit me,” Kiyoomi says. He means it, regardless of the look Atsumu is giving him. Thick eyebrows pitched upward, mouth open in disbelief.
He knows Atsumu can get the job done. He’s lusted after his serves for years, longer than he’d care to admit. He imagines what it would be like to be the ball.
“Why?” Atsumu asks. He looks near tears, and Kiyoomi is jealous.
Kiyoomi can’t cry.
Maybe it was growing up in a household were tears were the object of derision.
Maybe it’s the weight of responsibility, stifling him, suffocating him.
Maybe it’s the fact that he’s broken, not a real human being, incapable of emotion.
Whatever it is, he feels like he’s on the cusp of orgasm, rightthere, but incapable of letting go.
And he needs to let go, needs to get it out, because this half-state of numb acceptance is killing him.
Series
- Part 22 of Threads 🧵🪡 and I'm the Needle