Fics like a posteriori

“Who here thinks that Omi-omi is the hottest.” Atsumu’s voice is breaking. Everyone looks at Sakusa, who is blissfully unaware to the drama around him. He’s changed out of the towel into white practice shorts, with black knee guards underneath. He hasn’t put on his shirt, so the whole room can see water glistening on his pale, perfect skin, dotted with a constellation of moles, and dripping from his elegant black curls, which are swept messily back, so that only half of his forehead is visible. He must have done a morning workout before official practice, because his back muscles are thick and defined, and tightly corded in his biceps like velvet over steel. As the team watches, Sakusa gives his hair one final rub with his towel, and then shrugs on his practice shirt, his abs flexing. His head pops out from the neck of the shirt, such that his curls bounce almost sensually in ripples from the top of his head. One after another, the whole team slowly raises their hands. - After a Twitter poll crowns Sakusa as the hottest member of the Black Jackals, Atsumu sets off on a quest to prove the Internet (and himself) wrong.

Fics like a posteriori

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