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#suna hq
missmeinyourbones · 4 months
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HOOKED ON HER FLESH
cw: afab!reader, fingering, pussy job, penetrative sex, pet names used (pretty girl, baby, etc), suckin and fuckin in the bath, raw fucking but this is not real so practice safe sex my friends
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The click of the front door is dull, and Rintaro can feel the burn in his calves when he bends down to place his gym bag beside the few pairs of tossed shoes by the entryway.
If you were on the couch like he'd half expected you to be, you'd scold him for leaving it there knowing one of you always trips over it. But you're not.
It's late, almost 11 PM when he returns home from a long day of training. The apartment is dim and oddly still when he weakly calls out to address his presence. With still no answer, he makes his way down the dark hallway with nothing but the kitchen light illuminating the space.
The second place he checks is the bedroom.
Weirdly enough, you're not there either. But before he even gets the opportunity to worry, he spots an outline of light shining through the closed bathroom door in his peripheral.
Quietly entering the bathroom, he's not all that surprised to find you sponging in the water, eyes closed and hair carelessly clipped up.
You're not asleep—he can tell by your breathing. He notes the glass of red slightly sipped on as it balances on the back ledge of the toilet.
He leans against the door frame, admiring you while he can before you shy away and refuse to let him. It's somewhat muggy in the room from the steam, and he gathers that you've been marinating for a while based on the drops of sweat beading in your supple creases and cleavage.
When the nippy draft of the open door finally makes its way to you, you crack your eyes open and jump a bit at the unexpected figure in the doorway.
Your face cushions a bit when you realize it's him, "God, you scared me. When did you get home?"
"Just now," he placates, making his way over to kneel beside you at the edge of the tub. That singeing ache returns in his calves, but he doesn't seem to care when he's this close to you, counting the steam droplets adorning your cheeks and eyelashes.
You're heavy with sleep when you reach for him, "How was practice?"
He hums in acknowledgment, letting his thumb trace your jaw in a gentle touch.
"Nothin' special," he shakes his head before smiling a bit at your drowsy murmurs. "Tired, baby?"
You nod along against his hand, "A little, yeah."
Opening your eyes, you admire your lover; he's tired too, the subtle lines of worry and fatigue marking his handsome face. Your eyes flicker to his blunt bangs, damp and sticking to his forehead.
Your fingers find them easily, brushing them off of his eyebrows and causing him to crinkle his nose. "You already showered?"
"Yeah," it's his turn to close his eyes. "Took a quick one before I left. Figured it was easier."
You seem pleased with his answer as you relax further into the water. "Good, 'cause I really didn't wanna have to get out."
He shakes his head in amusement, fingertips gently caressing your eyebrows and lids when he asks, "Why're you even in here?"
"What do you mean?"
"You only take baths if you're like, stressed or something."
"Not really stressed," you breathe, though the sigh entwined in your words betrays your point, "just wanted to relax a bit. Feel like I've been a bit wound up these past few days."
Rintaro nods but bites his tongue. His mind filters through the handful of times you've been a bit snippy with him this week. When he forgot to take out the trash and you called him annoying. When his shower went on just a few minutes too long, leaving the hot water merely lukewarm and you cursing at him. Just this morning, when the two of you were buzzing around the kitchen preparing for your days—he used the last of the milk in his coffee and didn't write it down on the grocery list, resulting in a glare from you and a passive-aggressive nudge towards the notepad on the counter.
As if noting the gears turning in his head, you whisper above the sound of water gently sloshing beneath you as you readjust your legs over the side of the tub.
"I'm sorry I've been kind of a bitch."
Rintaro chuckles and it sounds like love. His tone is light and airy when he squeezes your hand in solidarity, "I like you a little bitchy."
You roll your eyes, though both of you know it's harmless, and a warming silence comfortably overtakes your tiny apartment bathroom.
Rintaro thinks he's subtle, and maybe he is to anyone who isn't you, but you know him, and you know that his tender touches trailing from your hand to your leg are filled with both love and something a bit more desperate.
"So," his hand slowly caresses your damp leg as it dangles outside of the water, "wound up, huh?"
A glare is sent his way but the smiling pulling at your lips encourages him.
"Can I help?" His thumb applies some pressure to your calf, rubbing slow circles to the tender muscle and ears perking up at your soft sighs.
"You don't have to, you're probably tired and—”
He interrupts your weak restraint with a rough whisper against your cold ankle, "I'm never too tired to make you cum, let's get that straight."
He hears you kiss your teeth as his vulgarity, "I'm just saying, I'm okay."
And Rintaro does what he does best, and doesn't take no for an answer.
"Well, what if I want to?" he purrs against your skin, "What about my needs?"
"Your needs of making me cum?" you scoff behind a smirk.
"Exactly."
Sitting up a bit to better see you, he prompts you to uncross your legs with a gentle pry of his hand. You obey and spread yourself against the front of the bath, heels against the sides of the cold ceramic as he slips a sluggish hand between your thighs.
He can feel the slick already forming submerged in the water as he teases an experimental finger through your folds. Taking his sweet time, he brings his thumb to brush against your untouched clit, and grins like a wolf when you whimper and jolt at the slight friction.
You hear Rintaro laugh through his nose. "Yeah, you're okay?" he smugly prompts.
You close your eyes at the feeling, too needy to care about his mocking, "Shut up."
You can't see his smirk but you know it's there all the same. He plays with you without any urgency, mindlessly enjoying rolling your nub between his pointer and thumb, greedily inhaling each and every one of your gasps and mewls.
Once he's pleased with his mess of you, he allows a fingertip to just barely dip inside of your heat. Painfully slow and deliberate, he lets it barely sink into you before it pulls itself out, repeating the movement slowly.
He's fucking with you openly, giving you a sinful taste of the feeling you're addicted to without any actual benefits of it. You know he wants you to break, and you can't even bring yourself to put up a fight with your dwindling restraint slipping through your pruney fingers.
With a prod of his finger that goes just slightly deeper than the rest, you whine in frustration and reach for his arm.
"Rin," your hand wraps around his flexed bicep, to both steady yourself and prompt him to do more.
He ignores your pleas, continuing to give you just enough to squirm and thrash at his repeated actions. He knows your lack of patience at his hand—if he hadn't made you so greedy, you'd just take what he gives you.
But Rintaro learned long ago that he's a weak man when it comes to you. He's always going to give you exactly what you want—he's just going to be annoying about it first.
He lets it continue for a bit longer before you finally whine and dig your nails into his bicep.
"Stop—fucking doing that…need—” your words falter into tiny little whimpers as he continues a steady pulse on your clit.
"Need?" his eyebrows raise in a delight that mimics the devil.
You go to close your legs in instinct, but Rintaro's free hand uses its palm to hold you open. The still water in the bath splashes against your movements as your chest heaves with a need that he's not even close to giving you.
Somewhere between mocking and comforting, he tuts and coos at your frustration. His fingers stay steady as he kisses your neck, licking the sweat mixed with citrus-scented salt from your relaxation.
He taunts, "Gotta use your words, pretty."
"Need you," crawls pathetically from your throat, "you asshole."
Rintaro smiles, baring fangs you're not one hundred percent sure are actually there or not. For once, he says nothing as he finally sinks a full finger into your eager cunt.
You gasp at the pressure and he follows suit, almost mimicking your hiccups and whimpers as if he too feels what you feel. With every exhale of yours, he's unashamed in inhaling the sweet sounds, trying to savor them by tasting them for his own.
One finger turns to two, and time doesn't exist as you're rocking against his palm and losing yourself between the splashing water and his mouth on your neck.
"Look at you," he presses kisses anywhere he can, "my pretty baby."
I'm—fuck," your legs try to jostle shut again but they're unsuccessful as Rintaro continues his pace.
"It's okay," he sweetly mocks your shaky attempts to reach your high. His teeth move to sink into the outside of your thigh when he tells you, "Just relax for me."
Feeling you clench around him in a manner that's far too familiar, he changes his movements in a way he knows gets you there every time. Curling his fingertips upwards and lingering a bit too long against that spongey ribbed spot inside of you, you nearly jump out of the water at the harsh sensation.
Suna laughs, holding you down as your nails sink into his wrist in an attempt to ground yourself.
He continues against your feeble tries, mentally checking all of the boxes for when he knows you're about to lose it. When you get to the babbling nonsense and begging for quite literally nothing stage, he decides it's time.
A gentle kiss prods against your temple, "Talk to me, pretty."
"Feels good—so fucking good, I—” Your back arches and flexes against the water, desperately trying to reach your approaching high.
"You gonna cum for me?" he breathes through a smile.
You can't speak, nodding furiously and mindlessly as you feel yourself reach your peak. The churning inside of you unravels like a wave, and you can feel your hips bucking themselves upwards without meaning to for the sake of release.
Your lover doesn't let up, rubbing and curling and cooing you through your high. You don't even hear him, can barely feel him anymore as he milks you for all he can before giving you a break and moving his loving touches to your legs and neck.
"Feelin' good?" he's out of breath from watching you perform for him.
Between how tired you were before, let alone how hard he'd just fucked you on his fingers, he expects you to be spent. He's undeniably hard—only human, after all—but with the way your eyes can barely stay open, he mentally plans to get you settled in bed before leaving himself quickly and joining you.
But he's never been more willing to be wrong when you whisper against his bicep, planting wet and messy kisses across his skin in an attempt (as if one was even needed) to persuade him.
He can feel you beam against his skin when you mewl and pant, "Think I need the real thing now."
"The real thing?" his voice octaves in a condescending sweetness.
You're pulling at his cloth-covered torso when you groan, "You know what I mean."
"That wasn't real? You left fucking crescents on my wrist—”
"Rin," you cut him off with a groan, looking up at him all teary and needy and so fucking pretty he thinks he could cry. "Please?"
You watch his chest inflate with a sharp inhale as his eyes rake over your malleable form. His tongue skims his canine when he chuckles and shakes his head.
"Fuck you."
He's undressed and on top of you in the water within seconds.
"Condom?" he heaves into your neck, practically swallowing you whole between breathy groans.
He feels you shake your head and he kisses his teeth in aggravation. "What'd I say about words, baby?"
"No," you nearly hiss, before following it up with a velvety, "just wanna feel you this time, please."
Rintaro groans into your chest and subconsciously bucks his hips against you, "Fuck, okay. Okay, baby."
He takes his time when lining himself up with you, letting his pink tip acquaint itself with your puffy folds like it's the first time. He feels a pull inside of him that egnites when he realizes, it's not the first time, and over his dead body will there ever be a last.
He watches beneath the water as his pre-cum smears itself all over your pussy, sticky and webbed as it dissolves under the water. He flicks himself across your clit, tapping heavily against you when you softly cry at the sensitivity. He lets out sounds of amusement at your feeble protests.
"Don't—” you hiccup as he runs his shaft between your folds, "—be a dick."
"Shut up," he quickly kisses your lips, "I got you—"
As he breathes, he unhurriedly sinks himself into you, relishing in the way you both inhale one another at the stretch. Breathing in one another's gasps and shivers, he lets himself ease in and out of you until he's completely bottomed out and pressing his weight onto your abdomen to hear you shiver.
It's all sweaty kisses and desperate licks as you meet his movements, pulling as he pushes and taking everything one another can offer. And it is everything—you'd never give anything less.
You can tell he's slowly losing his composure, but he does a good job of keeping up with his long and intentional strokes. He means to leave no inch of you untouched, wants you to remember the feeling every time he's away and you find your hand snaking its way between your legs.
"I love you," falls from your lips like the wine you neglected from the untouched glass that sits a few feet from you. And Rintaro swallows it greedily, tastes its rich red and white and pink before spewing it right back for you to keep as your own.
His thrusts become more sloppy and frantic as he feels himself reaching the brink of his climax. "I love you, shit—love you, I love you."
He comes in bursts of heat and desperation, and with a few more needy strokes and circles on your clit, you follow suit behind him. Spent and sticky with cramping limbs in your tiny tub, Rintaro coddles you through shaky whimpers and sore muscles.
"So fuckin' pretty," he breathes between kisses, to you or himself, he doesn't think he'll ever know the difference. "My baby."
Touches turn lazy and tender, and breathing is now slow and steady when Rintaro adjusts himself with a groan and sits upwards. He reaches for your unattended wine glass, taking a strong swig and raising his eyebrows in jest when you roll your eyes and laugh at him.
He then holds it to your lips, gently leaning your jaw back as you take a sip of your own. You swear that his eyes have stars in them, and while you don't know it, yours gape the same right back at him.
Sinking into the water on the opposite end of the cramped bathtub, he grabs your leg and hooks it upon his shoulder, leaving a gentle kiss to your ankle before letting his head loll to the side.
"This water's fucking freezing now," he mumbles, eyes closed.
But his spirits lift when he hears you giggle at his declaration, opening his eyes and smiling behind a scowl to catch you lazily tossing your head back in amusement.
"It was nice before you got in," you shrug, rubbing your ankle against his ear just to watch him whine at the motion, "so it must just be you."
Rintaro hums in faux agreement, turning to weakly gnaw on your calf before kissing the crescents indented from his front teeth.
"Keep it up and I'll keep your pruney ass right here all night."
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dira333 · 3 months
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The Gremlin or how to get over yourself - Suna x Reader (Angst to fluff)
A/N: I moved my writing schedule to write only on weekends. Things will take a lot more time but my health will be better off. Please enjoy this Suna Fic, it's my first time writing for him.
Words: 7,1k - tagging @emmyrosee because she loves Suna
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It’s seven p.m. on a Thursday night when Suna’s phone rings, Keeping up with the Kardashians is playing on low volume as he swallows the rest of his Chuupet, a necessary entree prepping his stomach lining for the slightly burnt Rice he’s having for Dinner.
Samu’s curt in his greeting, kitchen noise in the background as usual.
“The Gremlin’s having a week off.” He says. “I’m not supposed to ask, but do you still own that pull-out couch?”
The Gremlin. He hasn’t heard that name in months.
Suna’s the one who came up with it, a silly joke that slipped out at an unfortunate time.
-
“That’s our sister,” Tsumu comments on the high-pitched wailing coming from the kitchen. “Just ignore her.”
“She’s not that bad.” Samu tries. “Just don’t look at her too long.”
The wailing stops abruptly, followed by the tell-tale sound of someone snuffling loudly.
“Samu? Tsumu? Are you home?”
Red-rimmed eyes peer into the hallway, silver braces glinting in the dim light. Your hair’s a mess that might have been pigtails sometime before. 
“You look like a gremlin.” Suna points out. He half expects you to cry again. Instead, you kick him in the balls.
-
“Uh, sure.” He manages to pull himself out of the memory, the pain still fresh in his mind even if it’s been years. “She could just ask herself, she’s got my number.”
“Ah,” Osamu chuckles half-heartedly. “I didn’t like her last boyfriend. She’s still mad about that.”
“Boyfriend?” He hears himself ask, mind going a little frayed trying to picture you with a boyfriend. 
“Yeah, I don’t know if you know him, but he was Nekoma’s Captain when we went to Nationals? Black hair that made him look like a Rooster?”
A chill runs down his back. “You let your sister date Kuroo Tetsuro?”
“Hey now, it’s not like I got anything to say in that matter. You know how she is.”
“Yeah, I do-” He mumbles, mind already drifting back.
-
“Why would I do that?” Gremlin asks, nose pointed to the sky. The braces look almost cute on you when you smile like that, a little arrogant and so very pleased with yourself. The new set of pimples across your nose ruins the look a little bit, but there are more important things to think about.
“Come on.” Tsumu whines. “It would be so funny! You just have to ask him out on a date.”
“Nah.” You blow a bubble with your chewing gum, clearly feeling very important. It’s rare that your brothers ask you for help and you like to lord your power over them. 
“If you do it, I’ll ask Kita-san to let you train with us for one day.”
Your eyes light up at the prospect, even as both Samu and Tsumu groan in annoyance. The girl's Volleyball Club isn’t to be messed with, but you’re as competitive as your brothers. There’s a long-standing battle of who’s best and you’ve gotten better since you got into High School, yearning to show off.
He can’t quite understand why, but he respects it. You’re one of the youngest in your Class, born on the last possible day to make it into one school year below your brothers. Maybe it’s because you’re born prematurely. Tsumu calls it your obsessive need to be part of absolutely everything, Suna thinks you’re obsessed with proving yourself. 
“Fine.” You huff. “So I ask the Basketball Captain on a date and then I just stand him up?”
“Yeah!” Tsumu nods eagerly, Samu a little preoccupied with his Bento. “I’ll even toss to you during training if he accepts.”
Midorima-san does not accept your confession. But Suna gets to be there, phone ready, when you kick him in the balls. Midorima-san screams like a little girl.
-
“Anyways.” Samu pulls him out of his reverie again. “I’ll text Kita to let her know you’ll pick her up from the train station.”
“Hold up.” Suna puts his phone between his ear and shoulder, trying his darned best to save both his dinner and his last remaining brain cells. “Why do I have to pick her up and why can’t you just tell her yourself?”
“Dude, keep up. Mom would kill you if she knew the Gremlin had to take an Uber in a foreign city when you’re perfectly capable of picking her up. Who raised you?”
“True.” He huffs, wrinkles his nose at the perfectly burned rice on his plate. Oh well, Take-out it is. “And Kita?”
“I told you she’s still mad about that Kuroo thing. She could never say no to Kita.”
“True,” he repeats, an acid taste on his tongue. He used to hate that, how Mr. Perfect could make even you swoon, the Gremlin, the monster every boy at school secretly feared. 
“So, what did you do? That made her so mad?”
“Ask Tsumu about it, I have to work.” The call disconnects with a dissatisfying click and Suna grunts, orders Pizza, and calls Tsumu. He’s invested now.
-
Five days later he’s as well informed as he can be.
You’re arriving at exactly 5:24 p.m. and you broke up with Kuroo over both his workaholic tendencies and a job offer too good to decline.
Samu and Tsumu decided to throw a party at the news which didn’t go over well with you, even though you did decide to get drunk with them - Tsumu woke up with half his eyebrows shaved off and Samu still misses a box of his favorite cookies that he swears you took.
You like Tamagoyaki for breakfast and you’re here to decide between three different offers for three different teams, all Division 1 of Japan’s V.League. You’re a Libero now and a pretty good one too.
-
“Why are you crying?” He asks, offering you a Chuupet. You like the pineapple flavor best and that works out okay because it’s his least favorite flavor. 
“Doesn’t matter.” You wipe your nose on your sleeve and stare down the roof. He can hear Tsumu somewhere below them, yelling some curse words into the wind. He’s probably fighting with Samu right now.
“Did you get asked out by someone ugly?” He asks, taking a seat opposite to you. “Do I have to beat someone up?” 
“Kita-san is leaving after this year.” You point out. It’s a fact and you don’t sound too upset about it, yet it feels like you’ve dropped red-hot coals into his stomach, the acid bubbling from the heat.
“Uhuh.” 
You pull your knees up and he averts his eyes, lest someone accuses him of looking up your skirt. It’s not his fault you never seem to remember that you’re not wearing shorts.
“Kita-san told me that Tsumu’s going to be Captain next year.” You mumble into your arms. “And he asked me what my plans are.”
“What did you say?”
“What do you think?” Your voice is sharp now, the usual sting of your words a welcome sensation. This is the you he knows well, unbothered if your truth makes others uncomfortable.
He leans back as far as he can, lets his eyes rest on your shoulder, the smooth curve of your neck. You’ve grown a few inches since you came here and it suits you well. 
“You want to be better than Tsumu.”
You snort, hit his thigh with your fist. The touch lingers even when you take your hand back.
“Kita-san said I can never be better than Tsumu.”
Suna’s never moved this fast before. His head almost knocks into yours.
“He didn’t!” His voice is almost shrill, his chest tight with a weird sensation. You seem calm, brows arched.
“He’s right, isn’t he?” You tell him, too calm. You’re the most dangerous when you’re calm. “I’ll never be an Original. Tsumu will keep playing, Samu won’t. If I keep playing, I’ll be just like Tsumu. If I decide to do something else, no matter what, I’ll be just like Samu. It just sucks so much!”
“Be a Libero then.” It’s a slip of his tongue, nothing more. But your eyes are big and bright and he wants to forget the way you looked before, desperate and desolate, so he keeps talking.
“You’re tall for a Libero. You’re average for a Setter. You’ll always be at the back of the Court and always wear a different shirt. Tsumu’s receiving sucks anyway. You’ll never be Captain, so you’ll never have to argue with him who’s been better at that. You can keep playing Volleyball and do your own twist of it.” He shrugs. “Just… Just an idea. I mean, you can do what you want. It’ll always be original. You’re the Gremlin after all.”
He forgets how to breathe when you pull him into a sudden hug. You’ve never been one for cuddling, never been into touch that doesn’t lend itself to violence.
But it’s nice, how you fit right in his arms, like you’d grown just for that purpose.
-
“Suna!” It seems that he might have been able to forget quite some things, but not your voice.
“I’m here!” He lazily raises his arm, counting on his height. There are too many people on the platform right now, the bustle making it hard to spot you.
But then you step out from behind a gaggle of businessmen and his mouth runs dry.
It should be illegal to wear shorts this… well, short. Your legs are way too long to be real. You could probably break a watermelon between your thighs. Why is it suddenly so hot?
“Hey Stranger!” You greet him with a grin. Where you used to have braces is now a perfectly white set of teeth in a perfectly formed mouth. Oh, wait, no, there’s the dimple and the slight curve to the right. He feels a little faint and curses the fact he’s not had dinner yet.
“Hey.” Should he move to hug you? Offer his hand? Slap you on the back?
You take that decision from him, knock your left knee into his right like you used to do back in High School. “What’s up with you? Did you forget how to talk?”
“No, I’m fine. Just tired. How was the train ride?”
“Long. Boring. Are you hungry? Can we go eat before we drop off my stuff or do you have a ‘No girl stuff in my car’-rule like Tsumu?”
“Tsumu’s still single then?” He asks, directing you toward the exit. “Both’s fine with me. We can order take-out. What are you in the mood for?”
“You eat take-out? How shameful.” You wrinkle your nose at him in mock disgust. Would it be weird if he leaned in and bit into it, dug his teeth into your skin? Probably.
“You gonna rat me out to Samu?”
“Probably.”
“I’m letting you stay in my apartment.”
“I said probably. My Silence is expensive.”
“Hey, Suna!” A familiar voice yells over the crowd. He turns, surprised to see Komori.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nohr got a craving for that one Pork Belly Dish, so I drove over to get it for her. Is that your friend you mentioned? Hey, I’m Komori Motoya.” 
There’s that familiar tightness again, building up in his chest as he watches you chat with Komori. It’s Highschool all over again, how you swooned over Kita, had private discussions with Aran or the fact that you regularly went over to Ginjima’s place for some kind of secret meetings. 
It’s not that he dislikes you having friends. Or that he hates the fact that his friends like you too. But he’s him and that’s Komori, the nicest guy that ever decided to play Volleyball. Well, at least Komori’s not single.
“Oh, hi Suna.”
“What are you doing here?” 
Washio furrows his brows at his less than friendly tone.
“Wow, I know I messed up a little today, but are you really still mad about my Block?”
Your eyes are on him too now and he swallows the bile down yet again.
“Sorry, I’m being a dick.”
“When are you not?” You ask, a teasing lilt to your voice. It still stings, but less so when you knock your knee against his again. “You’re both on his team then?”
“Oh, yeah, Mr. Miserable is our Middle Blocker. I’m the other Middle Blocker and Komori is our Libero.”
“Oh, a fellow Libero.” You grin easily. “I’m here to check out a few teams in the area. We could get together some day, maybe? When the Grump’s not so obviously hangry?”
Washio laughs. “Sure. Sunday works well for me. What do you think Komori?”
“I’ll talk to Nohr and let you know, but I think I’d be fine with Sunday.”
“Don’t I get asked too?” Suna grumbles and you elbow him. “Pork Belly?” You ask him instead, nodding at the take-out containers both Washio and Komori carry.
“Sure.” He agrees, because at least that will get him out of this conversation.
-
It’s almost time to go home and he’s still in possession of his second button.
Suna refuses to give it up and both Samu and Tsumu seem to think it’s hilarious.
“Hey.” In an uncharacteristic show of emotion, you weedle yourself under Tsumu’s left arm, press yourself into him as you peer up at Suna. “What are you guys doing after School?”
“Mom’s making Hot Pot!” Samu decares from your other side, finishing off the rest of the Yakisoba bread you had brought in as a present. You got all of them graduation presents. A book for Ginjima, new shoes for Tsumu - though you declared that you wanted his old ones - a mixed bag of Chuupets for Suna. All of the pineapple flavors have been taken out and while he should find it annoying, it’s a little too endearing to him.
“You’re invited, by the way.” Samu points out. “But Mom said it’s okay if you can’t come. Your parents probably planned something for you too.”
“Not sure.” He mumbles, fiddling with his second button. 
“Oh, we’re going soon, right?” Samu flings the wrapping paper of his bread into the waste basket at the door and pulls at Tsumu’s arm. “Come on, you still need to confess to that girl from the Crafts Club.”
“What?” Tsumu looks at him like he just declared he’d start playing Basketball from now on. “Yeah, come on.” Samu tugs again. “We’ll get back to you later.”
 And just like that, it’s the two of you, the air around you growing dense with unsaid things. 
“You still have your second button?” You ask, pointing at it.
“Yeah.” With one last tug, the string gives away and he holds it in his hands. The button’s not even that big, he thinks as he rolls it between sweaty fingers. Just a tiny thing made from plastic that holds so much meaning.
“Were you planning to give it to someone?” Your voice sounds weird. He can hear his pulse in his ears, way too loud and way too fast. He’s going back to Aichi in a few weeks, doesn’t know much about his future but the fact that he’s got into College there, will have to get into their College Volleyball team if he wants to make it Pro. And even then, nothing’s sure. Not if he’ll make it Pro, not if his team will win the important matches. He could be doomed to be average for the rest of his life, living from the memories he made right here, in those last three years.
When he looks up, you look different than before. 
You’ve got the Miya Gene of Stubbornness, and are the worst of all three when it comes to not letting go of your dreams. You’ve managed to turn around and beat everyone’s expectations in the last year alone, making it from an average setter to an extraordinary Libero. You almost won the Nationals last year and there’s word of it being a sure win the next time around.
It’s not a conscious decision, but it feels right. To open his mouth and say “No. I’m not giving it to anybody.” To fling that damned button out the window. 
Still. He’ll probably never forget the way your mouth curved at the sight, like you were trying to hold something inside that was trying to burst out of you. 
He misses your graduation because of a stubborn cold. He watches most of your matches until he gets so busy with training and College and just, life, that he falls off, little by little. 
Soon enough you’re nothing but a memory and he’s probably less in your head.
After all, you’re dating Kuroo Tetsuro and making a name for yourself, aren’t you?
-
His heart is a traitorous thing, it seems, but at least it calms down over Pork Belly. You’re eating on the Couch you’re going to sleep on later, your legs familiarly thrown over his. Keeping Up with the Kardashians plays on TV, but it’s basically background noise now as you talk, laugh, and wave your chopsticks around.
It’s like old times, hanging out at your house after school. Any second now, Samu’s going to come in from the kitchen with his second helping. He can almost hear Tsumu’s nagging voice in the background, telling you “Shut up! I didn’t sound like that.”
“Hey, Gremlin.” Your head snaps around at the nickname and his mouth runs dry.
“What?”
“‘s nothing.” You mumble into your dish. “Just not used to getting called that way again.”
“Oh.” He’s suddenly not hungry anymore but stuffs his mouth nonetheless to think of a comment.
“You want me to stop? It was a stupid nickname, really.”
“Nah.” You shake your head and dig your heels into his thighs. “It’s okay. I am a Gremlin.”
“You totally are. Like, you didn’t even bring me a present. Didn’t your Mum teach you about housewarming gifts?”
“I totally brought you a gift!” You jump up and pull something from your suitcase. He recognizes it by sound alone, the crinkling plastic wrap a tell-tale sign.
“You bought me Chuupets?” He laughs, his heart tightening when he realizes that you pulled all the pineapple flavors out. 
“Samu said you’re still eating them.” You point out, handing them over in a way that tells you this is just as awkward for you as it is for him.
“Course. What do you think of me? I don’t change like that.”
“Could’ve fooled me!”
“Okay.” He claps his hands on his thighs and sits up, grabs his phone from his pocket, and connects it with his TV. “History lesson. I’ll catch you up on what happened in the years since I graduated.”
“Oh wow, are you going to let me write a test on that too?”
“Only if you keep asking stupid questions.”
-
His alarm goes off way too early for the late night he’s had. 
You just kept swapping stories, drunk on nostalgia. 
The girlfriend he had in College, the most awkward affair of his life to date. “She was obsessed with my hair.” He spilled what he hadn’t even told Samu, “Cut off a few strands of it and kept it in her purse for personal reasons.”
How you got to play for the Tokyo Tigers and your awful first date ever with a guy who thought he could get free Onigiri through you. 
“Kicked him in the balls for that.” You said, grinning smugly. He couldn’t help the “That’s my girl,” that slipped out of his mouth. But you smiled like you agreed.
“Morning Gremlin.” He calls out as he moves toward the bathroom. Your head pops up, dried spit sticking to the side of your face, hair sticking out in odd angles.
“Bathroom’s mine.” You declare with something like a war cry. He’s got a headstart, but you still beat him there, your body trained by years of living with the twins. 
“What the f-” You kick him in the shins and slam the door in his face when he goes down. Long-forgotten memories of sleepovers resurface. What does it say about him that he’s still grinning when you step back out?
“I’m so sorry.” You tell him, your hair less messy, your face void of spit. He focuses on your eyes because your sleep shirt is a little too revealing for this early hour.
“Nah, it’s good. I like being heckled right after getting out of bed.”
You snort. “I’m making breakfast.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Hey, I’ve gotten way better! I bet I’m better at cooking than you.”
“I’ll let you try.” The Challenge lights a familiar fire in your eyes. He’s going to have to come up with excuses to eat out if he doesn’t want to turn into a sore loser.
-
“Morning loverboy,” Komori greets him at training.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Suna’s probably never been this diligent with his stretches before, but it’s a welcome distraction now.
“Nohr said she could do Sunday, by the way.” Komori’s not letting the topic go, however, and Suna can’t even blame his stubbornness. He’s grown up with Sakusa, after all. 
“Great.” If negative excitement is a thing, he’s projecting it right now.
Training goes smoothly, however, which he’s thankful for. 
It’s hard enough to deal with Komori’s excitement - he’s been trying to set up Suna since before he met Nohr, his enthusiasm only intensified by his own personal happiness - and Washio’s weird sense of humor on any day, but he doesn’t dare imagine what it would be like if he sucked. They’d probably tell him that he’s lovesick or something equally stupid.
“So, your girlfriend-” Washio starts when they gather for a quick break.
Suna barely avoids choking on the sip of water he’d just taken, can’t even be happy about narrowly avoiding death when a smug smile appears on Komori’s face.
“She’s not my girlfriend!” He points out hastily. “Remember the Miya-Twins? She’s their little sister.”
“Ouch.” Komori pulls a face. “That must have been a rough childhood.”
“So you’re not with her because they’d kill you if you’d try?” Washio asks and Suna’s glad his mouth is empty this time. 
“No, I’m not with her because I’m not with her. We’re just friends. She’s the Gremlin, okay?”
“The Gremlin?” Washio’s brows furrow in the same way they do when he thinks about Bokuto. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Suna points at his shin, the darkening spot on his skin.
“She kicked me in the shins today because she wanted to use the bathroom first.”
“She’s a guest. Of course she should get to use the bathroom first.” Washio points out. Suna grunts in annoyance and turns to Komori.
“Don’t ask me for help there, I always let Nohr take the bathroom in the morning.”
“Yeah, because you’re whipped.”
“And you’re not?” Washio’s eyebrows are now doing the “Coach is saying something but I sense he means something else”-Dance.
“Weren’t you listening? She’s the Gremlin. There’s nothing there between us!”
“Good.” Washio puts his watter bottle down with a nod. There’s something there, maybe in the sound of plastic hitting the floor, or maybe it’s in his voice, but the knot in Suna’s stomach pulls taught to the point he’s afraid he might vomit any second. “That means I can ask her out.”
-
Suna’s good at what he does, because he’s not only observant but has a Poker Face to match it. He’s a strategist, plays the long game, all of those things.
So the fact that he did not see that coming from a mile away should scare him way more than the prospect of you dating Washio. 
Oh god, what if you date Washio and it works out? And you move here? And he has to see you every time they do teambuilding stuff like movie nights or Karaoke sessions? 
His mind races with a speed formerly unknown. His face is completely blank, at least he’s still got that going for him, but his mind is tormenting him with a terrible picture of you and Washio at the altar.
“I mean, you can ask her out, but I can’t tell you if you’ll have a shot with her or not. Remember Kuroo? They broke up recently.”
Washio nods slowly. He doesn’t know that “recently” is a very vague description. He’s not so sure about the timeframe himself, but it sounded like a few months have passed since that incident. Not that Washio has to know that.
“Can you give me her number?”
“Only if I want to get neutered in my sleep. But I’ll tell her you asked for it and offer her yours.”
Washio nods even slower and Komori’s face looks like he’s doing his best to hold back diarrhea. 
“Well, do that, and if she’s not into it, I can still ask her properly on Sunday. She’s staying till Wednesday, right?”
“Right.”
“All right Boys, get back into position.” Coach yells from behind them. Suna’s never been more glad to get back to training.
-
Suna spends Friday and Saturday evening sightseeing with you, which is in itself an exaggeration. He’s never been one for sightseeing like the typical tourist.
“Okay, stop. And don’t smile, this background is serious.”
You roll your eyes, but don’t look around - you’ve learned from your previous mistakes. When he flips his phone around, you can see yourself leaning against the railing of a footbridge, behind you the central landfill.
“The Gremlin in its natural habitat.” He teases. You punch his shoulder as hard as you can.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Oh, come on,” He slings his arm around your shoulder. “You get to take one of me next. How about the mural with the poop emoji? Will that suffice?”
You lean your head back to look up at him and your face is so close now that your breath washes over his face. Your lips open and close as you speak, but there’s an odd noise in his ears. 
Pain erupts from his cheeks as you pinch and twist them.
“Ouch, what the f-”
“You were zoning out completely. When’s the last time you ate?”
“Oh, good call.” Suna turns away to regain his composure. “Take-out or do you want to actually sit and dine.”
“Or we could cook?”
He pulls a face. “Do we have to?”
You laugh. “I could teach you a few things. Mom wouldn’t let me leave for college without knowing how to feed myself. And Samu asks me to help him every chance he gets. Cheap labor, you know.”
“So you’re saying that your cooking is better than Takoyaki from a street vendor?” He points at the sign he’d noticed a few seconds ago. Your confidence falters. So it is still your favorite food…
“What if, and hear me out, we get Takoyaki, enjoy your weird little poop emoji mural, and drop into a Konbini on the way back. By the time we’re home, you’re going to be hungry again anyway.”
“I’m not Samu, I don’t eat that much.”
“No? Well, I do. And I’m your guest, so what I say goes.”
Suna laughs along, ignores the tingling that erupts whenever you knock your shoulder into his as you walk. It’s nice, to be like this with you. Relaxed, at ease, no dangerous thoughts rolling around in his brain.
-
It’s only when you’re pushing the shopping cart down the aisle that things change.
Your phone rings and you pull it out, frown at the display.
“Sorry, I’ve got to take this. Can you pick up some more rice and vegetables? I only need five minutes.”
“Sure.” Suna keeps his face neutral as ever, but he’s seen the caller ID. It’s Kuroo.
“Hey Tetsurou, what’s up?” He can hear your voice as you walk away from him. You sound too friendly for a chat with your ex-boyfriend. He desperately wants to hear more, but he’s not a creep, so he pushes the shopping cart away from you, down another aisle. 
By the time his mind clears a little, he’s far far away from the produce aisle and staring at an assortment of Shochu. He picks up two bottles at random and drops them in the cart before making his way back to where he was supposed to be going.
-
Suna’s not sure what wakes him. 
He knows it’s a Sunday because his body, conditioned by years of training, tells him to stay in bed. His head feels a little fuzzy, telling him he drank too much last night, but it’s Sunday, so that doesn’t really matter anyway.
His blanket must have slid off during the night, so he pats around, eyes closed. What he finds instead is a face and his eyes snap open to dawny morning light and your annoyed grumbling.
His heart, usually a rather chill fellow, thrums in his throat. He’s frozen in place, his hand still somewhat cradling your cheek. His mind unhelpfully supplies him with the information that your cheeks are warm and soft, fit perfectly into the palm of his hand.
He tries his best to block out this information in favor of checking if he’s still wearing clothes.
He couldn’t… he wouldn’t… You blink and he goes completely still.
“Suna?” You ask. “Are you okay? Your face looks weird.”
“I…” He manages before his voice gives out. 
This is both his biggest nightmare and his sweetest dream. If only he could convince himself that it’s not real, he could slip back into his dreams and consider it private. 
Something on his face must have tipped you off. This is worrying, because since when can others read his face?
You pull his hand from your face and slip out from under the covers. You’re wearing boxer shorts and a tank top, reasonably dressed for what he feared might have happened.
“You have not changed at all.” You say, your voice way too calm to be harmless. He’s not sure what he’s done, but he’s going to regret it.
“What do you mean?”
You stop at the door and level him with a look he’s only ever seen directed at people you never want to come across, ever again. This isn’t going well for him.
“You’re the king of mixed signals, Suna. And I’m sick of it. Make up your mind.”
“Where are you going?” He follows you, a little less balanced than you.
“Out.” You pull clothes over your sleepwear, drag your hair into something resembling a messy bun. “I need some fresh air.”
“Look, whatever happened-”
“I know.” Your voice is as hard as steel now. “Nothing happened. Nothing ever happens.” 
The door clicks shut behind you with a sound of finality.
-
You're still not back when Suna drags himself out of bed hours later.
His head hurts and his mouth is dry in a way that even three glasses of water cannot seem to fix. He calls you over the first cup of coffee, but you don’t pick up. 
Five unanswered calls and plenty of messages later he’s ready to call the police. Sure, you’re one to hold a grudge, but accidents happen.
The thought of you hurt on the side of the road, will not leave his mind. His hands shake as he moves through his contacts, his first instinct as always to call Kita. 
He doesn’t get that far, however. 
“Why are you calling?” He asks, his voice doing some weird thing he’s not exactly proud of.
“Your friend.” Washio’s voice is serious in a way he hasn’t heard before. “She’s with me.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” There’s the sound of a door closing. Suna can’t help but picture it. You’re probably on Washio’s Couch right now, the massive green beast he helped carry up the stairs a year ago. He’s probably made you a decent Lunch or a cup of coffee that does not burn away your stomach lining. You’ve probably told him everything already. Whatever. It’s not like he can fall any deeper in Washio’s eyes.
“Suna?” That’s Komori’s voice. It sounds like he’s on speaker phone now.
“Yeah?”
“I’d rather do this in person, but you’re both stubborn as hell. Everyone can tell that you like her.”
“I don’t-”
“Lying about has got you into this mess, you could be honest for once.” Komori’s voice stays the same, friendly and light as ever, even as his words pack a punch.
“It doesn’t matter.” Suna presses out. “I’m not good enough.”
He didn’t mean to say those last few words. It seems as if the truth is like a Chuupet, slippery in his hold - but a lot less sweet.
“I think she’d disagree.” Washio grumbles along with his deep voice. “Apparently you’re totally her type. Snarky assholes who don’t know when to stop teasing and stuff like that. Trust me, she’s not stopped talking about it since we picked her up.”
“How- How did that work out anyway?”
“Sakusa’s on Atsumu’s team, remember?” Komori explains. “I think she just needed someone to vent who’s not her brothers. Someone who knows the current you. Nohr is currently with her and they’re talking to someone called Kita on the phone.”
Suna flinches. It would have been less painful for him if you’d called the twins.
“I’m not sure if you know.” Komori starts again after a few seconds of silence. “But she doesn’t have an offer here. I’m not… I’m not telling you more about that, but I think you guys should talk. And be honest for once. You’re both grown ups, for goodness sake.”
“Sure.” He huffs. “Like she’s going to listen to me now.”
“Get over here.” Washio declares. “I’ll send her down as soon as you’re here. It’s on you to get her to listen, though.”
-
“Never have I ever served a ball into someone’s head.” Suna declares confidently. 
“It was on purpose.” You point out as you down your Shochu. 
“Tsumu?” He asks. You grin smugly. 
“A Lady doesn’t tell.”
“You’ve never been a Lady.”
“I totally am!”
“You totally are not! You’re the Gremlin.”
“Well, at least I’m one of a kind.”
“That you are.” The words weren’t meant to come out this soft. But your eyes seem to mirror his sound, now pools of warm liquid that seem to pull him in.
“Never have I ever had a crush on someone in my school.” You drink right after you say it, but he’s too far gone to complain about you breaking the rules as he downs his own shot.
“Who?” You ask, giggling. You’re swaying in your seat, barely able to hold yourself up. 
“You should get to bed.”
“Not without knowing who you’ve had a crush on.”
“You should get to bed first.” He gets up, utterly convinced that the Shochu won’t have any effect on him until he can barely keep upright without the Couch cushions stabilizing him. He pulls you up all the same, dragging you across the room. “Come on.”
“I sleep on the Couch.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Who did you have a crush on?”
“Who did you have a crush on?” He asks back. “Kita, right?”
“Everyone had a crush on Kita.” You brush it off. “Whataboutyou?”
He pushes you onto the bed, giggles when you bounce off the mattress. It looks so soft and he lets himself fall too, lands a bit too close to you to be comfortable, his head knocking against your shoulder as he tries to wriggle away. He can’t look at you properly in this position.
“The teacher.” He declares with all sincerity he can muster while going cross eyed looking at you. You’re so close now, he can count your lashes. One, two, three…
-
Your eyes narrow the moment you spot him.
You turn back towards the still open door but Suna’s faster, grabs your arm to pull you back.
With everyone else, he’d feel bad about this, but you’ve kicked his ass enough times. You respond in kind, gift him a few more bruises on his shin and pull him down into a headlock. He’s not fighting it. At least you’re not pushing him away, right?
“What are you doing here?” You ask. Your knuckles are no longer rubbing over his head, but rather brushing through his hair. Are you aware of that?
“I want to talk.”
You huff, let go of him. He grabs your hand before you can step away, drags you down the sidewalk by your hand. Your fingers intertwine as you fall into step with him.
“I’ve had a crush on you.” Suna points out when the park comes into view. “I don’t know when it happened, but I had a crush on you. In high school.”
“I know.” You point out, your grip on his hand neither tightening nor loosening. “Everyone knew.”
“Excuse me? I have the best poker face in the prefecture.”
“Oh please, you suck.”
“You suck!”
“Suna!”
“Rintarou.”
You stop, suddenly breathless as you gaze at him.
“What?” You ask, your voice raspy.
“You should call me Rintarou.”
“No.” You glare at him. “No, we’re not doing this. You can’t push me away and pull me in right after just to push me away again.”
“I know.” He looks down, surprised to see that you’ve still not pulled your hands apart.
“Tell me one thing.” He purses his lips, tries his best to make his words sound less pathetic than they are. “You could have had Kita. Or Ginjima. Even Midorima-san was kinda impressed with you. Washio has the hots for you too. Why would you even care about little old me?”
Softness washes over your face. You’ve never looked this good.
“I’m the Gremlin.” You tell him. You obviously are, in your layered slept-in clothes and your messy bun, your tendency to kick his ass even when he’s not asking for it. “You like me for what I am. I like you for what you are.”
And there’s a truth to that he hadn’t considered before.
You’ve been at his side for long enough, know how he acts after a loss or a win. You know he can’t cook for shit, have seen him block, have heard him snore.
A strange lightness takes hold of him. He feels like giggling.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks.
You nod. 
He leans in, heart beating in his throat again, but for different reasons this time. 
His lips brush yours, the softest of touches he’s never thought possible. 
When you respond it feels like coming home.
-
They’re almost too heavy for the swings, you’re on his lap on the tiny set.
“So, Kuroo?” He asks when everything else has been talked about, over and over and over again.
Your head’s a comforting weight on his shoulder. He could get used to this, being so close he only needs to lean down a little to kiss you.
“We’re still friends if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s not what I’m asking, but good to know.”
“Since when are you jealous?” You furrow your brows at him. He looks away.
“Rin.”
“Yes, love?”
“Since when are you jealous?”
“Since you fancied Kita, I guess.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“And you said you loved me, so jokes on you.”
You straighten up and glare at him.
“I told Kuroo that I wanted to try, one last time, to get with you. He was the one who got me interviews in this prefecture. So if you have a problem with him helping me-”
“I don’t have a problem with that, I just-”
“You think he’s better than you and wants me back eventually?”
“It sounds awful when you say it like that.”
You laugh. “You’ll have to work on that. It’s cute now, but your jealousy won’t be cute forever.”
You kiss the comeback from his lips. His stomach grumbles loudly.
“Lets get back to the others.” You pull him up from the swings. “It’s time for dinner anyway.”
“Do we have to? We could just go home and have fun instead.”
“Suna Rintarou. Your friends just helped you get over yourself and you want to repay them like that?”
“You’re only here until Wednesday and you want to spend time with my friends instead of with just me? Shame on you.”
“We can call in sick tomorrow? How does that sound?”
“Oh, you are a dangerous influence.”
-
Rintarou hollers loudly as the ball connects with your outstretched arms and soars through the air. Nohr claps exitedly next to him.
“That was a good one.” He calls out. “The Fans are going to love this.”
“How many followers do you have now?”
“About 500.000 and counting. Tsumu is still salty about it.”
“How many does he-” Nohr interrupts herself when Komori drops on the chair next to her and passes her a cup of soda. “Thanks, Baby.”
“Get a room.” Rintarou teases, already zooming in on you as you prepare for another receive. 
“I bet they’re going to win. Who dares to go against me?”
“I will. We have a strong Offense on the other side and the Game just started. Loser has to pay Dinner?”
“Deal.”
Your expression is thunderous when you exit the changing rooms.
“Hey Gremlin,” Rintarou calls out to you, watches as you part ways with your teammates and march over.
“You played good.” He points out and leans forward, softly bites your nose as a way of greeting.
“Not good enough.” You knock your head against his shoulder. “And it was the last game of the Season. This sucks so much.”
“I know, I know.” He rubs your back, pulls you closer even. “But it wasn’t your fault. Number seven messed up a lot of the blocks. You couldn’t do anything about that.”
“I know.” 
“You wanna go out with the Guys? Or go straight home and pack for tomorrow?”
You’re quiet for a while. He lets you stew on the decision. There’s no formula on how to feel better after a loss, no other way to go over this than to listen to what your body and your mind tell you.
“Can we get drunk?” You ask finally. “At that bar that serves fried chicken? We don’t have to leave that early for Osaka, right?”
“No, we can get drunk. Do you wanna take some stupid selfies and send them to Tsumu?”
“Yeah.” You nod, press a kiss to his chin. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Great. Also, we have to pay for Washio’s dinner.”
“No!” You whine. “You need to stop betting on me. Rin!”
He laughs. “You say that now like you’re not going to bet on me during my next game.”
“That’s different.” You point out and take his hand. “I only take bets that I’ll win.”
“Ah, what’s losing one bet or two if I’ve got you?”
“Sap.”
“Gremlin.”
“Yours.” You grin, smug about it.
“Mine.” He agrees.
431 notes · View notes
lele-11 · 7 months
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Ok yall I just wanna know…
Personally mine is Suna (and yes I did vote, but so what?)😍
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starreo · 5 months
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multi-character drabble.
includes the seven minutes in heaven trope, breeding, words like slut, stupid, dumb, idiot, and adult themes so, mdni.
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his cum is already dripping down your shivering legs, hasn't it been past seven minutes anyway?
ah, who cares right now? being bred by this large man, was more important than anything else. his hot cum still being plunged into you as he thrusts in a few more times, for good measure. "a-ah, no! 'm still sensitive-aah!" he scoffed, this time, dragging your waist down to his pelvis as you grabbed the shelf to support you again.
"y'er such a slut, b-being so g-goddamn loud for no reason," he muttered, staring at the mixed orgasm oozing out of your cunt. 'ts your fault! you wanted to say, but all you could do was gasp and whine as he suddenly took his cock out and quickly replaced it with his fingers. his breath shaking as he stuffed his cum back inside of you, was he trying to get you pregnant?
"y'er so dumb, y/n...s-stupid girl." he groaned as you grinded back into him, making his cock slowly stand up again..."wan' you...p-please..."your grip still solid on the shelves. "k-keep g-getting y'erself in t-trouble, mmph-then complain 'bout it, idiot." he whispered, shushing you, as his cock slipped in with ease, your loud whimpers and moans echoing in the little store room.
"your pussy feels so warm 'n, snug, aah-i, jus' wanna be here forever,."
toji, bakugo, nagi, barou, atsumu, eren, wc!kunigami, gojo, uni au!sukuna, suna + your favs <3
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© starreo 2023. do not copy, translate or repost .
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forusomimiya · 1 year
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Virgin!Suna is a horny mess. Whenever he sees you he gets a hard-on and has to run to the bathroom to jerk off and imagine that you are there between his legs, sucking his balls and cumming later on your face. Virgin!Suna fantasizes about you in every possible way. You're always on his mind, whether it's on his face or on his cock. He often wonders what your cum would taste like, and the mere thought of it makes him get hard again and go get some toilet paper to jerk off again. Virgin!Suna will come up behind you at the party and rub his cock against your ass like a fucking dog in heat. He'll whisper in your ear the wonderful things he could do to you if you were at home. Meanwhile, you'd be slumped over his shoulder, struggling with the heat and the shiver his dirty words send down your spine.
"I bet if you let me taste that little pussy, you'd end up on your knees in front of me begging for more, don´t you? What do you think about it?"
Virgin!Suna would despair and take it out on you for not fucking him that night in the cruelest way. A picture of his red cock, with cum all over his belly would ignite your desire and leave you horny for hours. "Look at what you've done to me…. So miserable and proud that you won't help a poor virgin to milk his cock…. I hope it's a lesson for you next time, I don't let just anyone play with me".
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xfgpng · 1 year
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“just the tip”
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when he first met you, he found you annoying. it wasn’t because you did anything in particular, he just couldn’t understand how you could get underneath his skin with just a slight tilt of your head or the way you laughed with your whole body, pretty eyes crinkling at the corners.
you were kind to him sure but you never really showed interest in him outside being acquainted. it drove him crazy.

why didn’t you want him because fuck, he wanted you so badly.
he’d be up and nights, big hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he closed his eyes, thinking about you and your pretty face. he wondered how you’d look laid out underneath him, struggling to take his cock because he was just too big for you.
how your lips, always glossy and plump due to your lipgloss, would look wrapped around the mushroom head of his dick. he had to bite back a moan, tightening his hold around the base so he could edge himself. he needed you so badly that he could barely focus on any other girl.
the man was convinced you were using those crystals he had heard your friends talking about. why else was he so into you when you gave him no impression that the feeling was mutual.
“fuck fuck fuck” he whines, whines like a bitch and he should feel embarrassed but he can’t even think about how desperate he sounds. he thinks it’ll be worse when he does finally get the courage to speak to you one on one.
he had no issues with getting around, his own friends like to call him a slut but he didn’t care and he was absolutely willing and ready to stop his one night stands if you just let him put the tip in.
he needed to have you.
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|| eren, suna, bokuto,toji&gojo
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hqkalon · 8 months
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something about getting degraded, yet praised at the same will forever be hot.
he has your legs pressed against your chest, amused by the way your pussy takes him so well. his fingers wrapped around your thin throat while maintaining eye contact, almost humiliated by how dumb he has you on his cock, babbling nonsense as he strokes that sensitive spot inside you making you whine in response. “that’s a good girl, taking my cock like an obedient little slut.” he groaned, thrusting deeper inside you. “o-oh my god!” a moan fell from your lips, mouth almost slacked as he pounded into you. “yeah baby?” he teased, before leaning down to cup the buttom of your jaw, forcing your gaze within his direction. “eyes on me as I fuck this pretty pussy.” he hissed, making you clench around his length. you felt so full, it was almost hard to create coherent words. “nghh s’so much!” you whined, hesitating direct eye contact as his lips curled into a frown.
“that’s it angel, keep looking at me that.” his breathy coaxed with lust as your tummy swirled with pleasure, feeling as though you were holding in an approaching orgasm. “p-please!” your soft hands grabbed at his wrist, rocking back and forth with each connecting thrust. “use your words.” his voice deepened as his dick slowly slid out of your wet hole, coated with wet opaque— clenching around nothing, but air. “please let m— nghh!!” a moan pierced through your sentence as your eyes widened. “words.” his tone urged, pounding into your cunt. “cum. gonna. cum!” you cried as your tummy caved in, feeling hot waves wash over your body as bundled nerves exploded within your core. “good girl.” his eyes darkened as he continued stroking your sweet spot. “let’s see how many times a filthy cunny can cum.”
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semifilms · 1 year
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doing that silly little lipstick tiktok trend to the song “k.” by cigarettes after sex with them. when you pan the camera to him wiping away your smudged lipstick and he’s just staring at you with so much adoration and a little smile on his lips—face covered in kiss marks. which causes you to smile hard at the sight. once the audio cuts off and the video stops you turn to him, “see that was fun wasn’t it?” and he’s completely zoned or now just staring at your lips—his slightly parted. you know exactly what he wants now and you wouldn’t hesitate to lean in to lock your lips with his. once you pull out of the kiss he’s cheesing and is all, “if there’s ever anymore trends like that don’t even ask me, i’ll do it no questions asked.”
ATSUMU, SEMI, OIKAWA, IWAIZUMI, kuroo, BOKUTO, konoha, ARAN, SUNA, hinata, SUGAWARA, daichi, TANAKA, NOYA, kyotani, TERUSHIMA, aone, tendo,
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reference video
©semifilms do not copy, repost or translate my works
reblogs appreciated!
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lumiinix · 1 year
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Whenever he went to the store, ladies will stop on their tracks and look at him with heart on their eyes, they would gossip to eachother about how there’s this handsome man who always came into this store, some even build enough courage to went up to him and strike up a conversation, only to be severely disappointed when they saw the wedding band on his ring finger. It gets awkward for them when they see him again, this time with you by his side, your husband’s hand around your waist and what’s more? A 5 year old child sitting on his shoulder. Yeah, they’re too late, he’s off the market now.
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sir-kuroo · 1 year
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𖦹 themes: x f!reader, public, mutual masturbation, heavy petting
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You should've just dined at home.
It all started with him staring intently at your lips and speaking so intimately close to your face. Now, he’s dragging his lips against the skin of your neck, reaching your earlobe and giving it gentle bite.
“Not here.” You squeezed his thigh under the table as warning, but he took your hand away and led it on the bulge on his pants. You gasped to feel him so hard for you. He pressed your hand even further and used it to stroke his cock over his pants, feeling him throb and get bigger against the touch of your hand.
“Can you feel how hard you make me?”
You let out a strained whimper and gulped dryly.
“There are people,” you said almost breathlessly.
“Then stop your little hand from massaging my cock and push me away. Unless…” He skimmed his palm against your thigh, hiking the skirt of your dress up and finding its way on your panties right at your pussy. You’re so fucking wet. He smirked. “You want it too.”
“Someone might see us.” You heaved.
“Not when you keep it down.” His index and middle fingers circled your clit over your panties, which made you grip on his cock so tight. He groaned against your neck as you tried your best to keep your moan from escaping.
You quietly whined his name when his fingers pressed harder. Your one hand stifled your noises while the other was caressing his cock. His heat seeping through the fabric of his slacks.
You squirmed in your seat as he rubbed the lips of your pussy, teasing your slit and ultimately drenching your panties and the inside of your thighs. Fuck! You’re so ready and horny for him that he felt like bursting anytime soon with just your light caresses over his cock.
Through gritted teeth, he hissed against your ear commanding and begging you at the same time, “Restroom.”
—♡ kuroo, osamu, tsukishima, suna, hirugami, iwaizumi, ushijima
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© nekorei 2023 - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.
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missmeinyourbones · 1 year
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THE RUST THAT GREW BETWEEN TELEPHONES
in which suna is annoying (shocker). slightly suggestive? tw: hickeys/bruising 
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Sometimes you swear life is laughing at you, and sometimes it is. But other times, it’s just your boyfriend.
Waking up this morning with an alarmingly noticeable hickey on your neck was not what you meant when you said you were looking for a new accessory to wear out to brunch. 
You’ve already spent about twenty minutes of your getting ready process on trying to cover up the harsh bruise that formed on your skin overnight, and with each pump of foundation and stroke of concealer, your frustration grows. 
Amid your horror, you hear a borderline squeak. Something that perfectly reflects a mumbled snort of laughter behind a stupidly long and calloused hand. 
You let your gaze sharply adjust to the silhouette in the reflection behind you. Suna stands exactly how you’d imagined him, watching your feeble attempts at trying to cover his bite with a shit-eating grin hidden behind his fist.
He’s utterly amused by the scene playing out before him. You? Not so much. 
“Choke.”
He almost does at your blunt words paired with your gaze of daggers. When he removes the hand covering his mouth, he holds up his palm in defense. You don’t miss how he does his best to hide the smirk pulling at his cheeks. 
“I didn’t say anything,” he innocently sings.
Your glare somehow gets even colder, before you scoff and ignore his words. You go back to rubbing at the mark, hoping to disperse its bruising a bit before furiously going in with yet another layer of concealer.
Suna shakes his head as he tries to keep a straight face, walking towards your back facing him. Nearly out of spite, you start rubbing harder at the mark. 
“Hey, hey—stop, alright?” he grabs your wrist with ease, before making eye contact with you through the mirror once more. “It’s not that bad.”
A lie. You both know it is that bad. In fact, it may be one of the worst ones he’s given you—it looks like he practically bit and sucked on the same spot for about an hour and a half straight. Maybe he did, you can't quite exactly remember where his lips were when his hands were—
As if reading your mind, Suna catches your eye and raises his brow at your dirty thoughts. 
“This isn’t funny,” you remind him for what feels like the umpteenth time.
“And I’m not laughing,” he insists, hands resting comfortably on your waist as he watches you (try to) blend out the makeup smothering the bite.
“But you want to,” you practically scoff. “I can tell by that stupid look on your face.”
He hums a laugh into the crown of your head.
“Maybe that’s just my face,” he reasons. You decide to bite back a fresh comment when he gently pokes the irritated skin.
You whine a bit at the sensitive prodding. Pathetically frustrated with the situation at hand, you whimper out a half angry half embarrassed mumble, “Hurts.”
He hums mockingly, cooing above the skin as he whispers, “Want me to kiss it better?” 
His lips lean in to skim the maroon bruise, but your hand swats at his cheek before he can successfully make contact. 
He whines at the gentle smack, pulling away with an amused smirk.
“That’s how it got there in the first place, dumbass,” he hears you mumble beneath your breath as you give up on the makeup, trying to play around with the collar of your shirt in any way that hides the ridiculous bruise on your neck. 
Suna watches you fumble with the material, face muffled in the side of your neck that isn’t marked.
“Not my fault you wore that dress last night,” he breathes evenly before daring to nip lightly at your jaw, “looked too good.”
“Good enough to practically eat me alive?” you retort with something that sounds like embarrassment.
Suna coos at your dramatics. He returns his attention to the prized possession he left on your neck. 
He nods, showing no regret and rubbing a soft thumb over the mark, “And then some.” 
Sighing in defeat with a groan, your hands fall flat at your sides.
“I can’t go out like this.” 
“You could gimme a matching one,” Suna casually slings an arm around your shoulder, exposing his neck dramatically in the process, “and consider it payback.”
You glare at him through the mirror, before glancing at his barren neck—because, unlike someone, you’re cautious with your marks. 
Your reaction not being the one he wanted, he tries again.
“Or,” he draws out the syllable before smoothly turning his head, “you could let me mark you up some more.”
You scoff, eyes stuck on the sore mark that seems to make itself known no matter what.
“And how would that help?”
“If you’re covered in ‘em, it takes the attention away from the big one,” he says simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.  
Though you let out a tiny laugh, it’s quickly hidden by your sarcastic response. 
“Can’t argue with that foolproof logic.”
His face returns to your neck, now determined to make you feel better after getting a taste of your amusement. “Stop being grouchy and let me love on you,” he nearly whines.
With a pathetic pout, you lean into his touch. He allows his head to lift with his hand, thumb smoothing out the worry lines forming on your forehead.
“M’sorry, though,” he softly breathes. “If you really hate it that much, I won't do it again next time.”
The insinuation sends a small panic through your core when you hear yourself quickly interrupt, “No–” 
“—Hm?” Suna pulls back to see your flushed face, nearly as red as the mark adorning your collarbone. 
With his eyebrow raised in amusement, Suna knows he’s won. 
Actually, he knew he’d won the second he spotted the mark on you this morning—when you were too sleepy to care and too sore to realize. As if he read you like a book and planned this all along, he feels victorious in his calculated actions.
“No, it’s not…” you do your best to grasp onto what's left of your dignity, “it’s not that.”
Suna hums, encouraging you to continue as he rubs a sweet circle on your side. 
“...I do like it,” your voice eventually comes quietly. Your eyes avoid his gaze in the reflection when you elaborate. 
“I just don’t want other people to see me like this,” you look down, playing with your hands shyly when you breathe, “just you.”
Suna swears he falls in love with you all over again every single day, and you always call bullshit on his cheesy declaration. But it’s true, and right now proves it. Over something as silly as a stupidly inconvenient hickey, you still find a new way to make him want to throw up with how much he adores you. It nearly makes him sick to his stomach in the best way possible.
He softens when he teases you with a squeeze to your waist, “Yeah? Just me?”
You groan at his prodding but nod into his chest nonetheless. Repeating history, Suna uses his hand to gently have you look at him.
When your eyes meet him, he leans in slowly. 
“Well then,” he coos against your lips, repeating your prior words back to you, “I can't argue with that foolproof logic.”
Needless to say, the two of you were late to brunch—and when you do show up, no one questions your turtleneck. 
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makkir0ll · 11 days
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"hmm, is it green apple?"
you giggle in his arms, shaking your head no and smile as he leans down to press another kiss on your lips.
the past fifteen minutes had been spent trapped under his arms while he kisses your plump, flavourful, lips. it started out when you put on some chapstick and he asks for some. you knew that this was his way of getting a kiss, but when his lips press against yours the flavor is different than your normal vanilla, its fruitier. "what flavor is that?" he asks, pulling you closer to him to plant another kiss on your lips, "berry?"
"no" you say smiling as you await his actions. hoping that he does exactly what you expect him too.
and he falls into your trap. the next fifteen minutes are spent with his lips on yours as he guesses what flavor it could be. strawberry? mango? pineapple?
all no.
at this point all he could taste was his own spit on your lips. completely kissed away all the chapstick that coated your lips. he breaks the last kiss with a whine.
"y/n put some more on, i can't taste it anymore." he loosens his grip on your body as you shift underneath him to find the chapstick in your pocket.
"close your eyes, i dont want you to see the label." you tell him and he obliges, squeezing his eyes shut in a childish manner as you apply the chapstick on your lips.
once you're done you toss the tube away, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down, he's smiling. his lips press against yours yet again but this time it's different. the kiss is deeper, he cups your face and his toungue swipes on your lips and you open your mouth slightly to let the wet muscle enter. it takes your breath away and you start to feel dizzy from his touch and all the sensations happening around you. he pulls away, a thin string of saliva connected the two of you. your eyes are still closed, processing what happened when you hear him say,
"it's berry isnt it?"
you nod your head no, hoping he will kiss you like that again, and he does. but little do you know that he caught a glimpse of the berry graphic on the label when you pulled out the chapstick from your pocket.
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HINATA SHOYO. (probably doesn't notice the label though tbh). BOKUTO, hanamaki, oikawa fucking tooru, sugawara (he knew from the start it was berry but goes along with the act to amuse you), akaashi (same as sugawara). NISHINOYA. (same as shoyo, genuinely continues to guess), ATSUMU. KITA FUCKING SHINSUKE (he knew from the first kiss, but realized that this made you happy). KUROO. SUNAAAAA.
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lele-11 · 6 months
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Fav Person 🥰
(Made from CapCut Template)
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starreo · 4 months
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multi-character drabble.
includes insecure! reader w glasses, adult themes so, mdni.
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he doesn't understand why you take off your glasses right before stepping out. you're squinting at absolutely everything, struggling to even read the types of boba on the menu behind the counter. your eyebrows are furrowed and you're biting your lips, so he reads out the menu, emphasizing your go-to. as you walk out of the cafe with your usual boba in one hand, and his arm in the other, he asks you. "do you not feel pretty in your glasses?" and you almost choke on the chewy tapioca. you ask him to elaborate with wide eyes, does he too, think you're prettier without your glasses?
"they add character to your appearance. to me, they enhance your beauty, instead. dunno why you don't like 'em. my entire body gets hot when i see you in 'em. like, the urge to just drop everything and fuck-" noticing your amused expression, he immediately stops himself. he was never good with words...so maybe, he'll just show you with actions.
and staying true to his internal promise, he did.
his hands trained on your waist, gripping tightly as he tries to keep his eyes open despite the overwhelming pleasure.
his large, veiny cock pacing in and out of you so quickly, hitting all the right spots, making such a mess that you can't register anything in that brain of yours before you're cumming all over the sheets again. your glasses getting crooked as you try to bury the back of your head into the pillow, because your brain just could not handle the amount of pleasure being received by your body. "s-so hot....f-fuck...y'er so hot..."
gojo, reo, eren, bakugo, nagi, barou, atsumu, kunigami, suna rintaro + your favs <3
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© starreo 2024. do not copy, translate or repost .
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merlucide · 4 months
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boys that would do this
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GOJO, ITADORI, INUMAKI, KAMINARI, SERO, HAWKS, HINATA, sugawara, NISHINOYA, TANAKA, OIKAWA, KUROO, TENDOU, ATSUMU, SUNA, TERUSHIMA, hoshiumi
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I’m down to make out😏
made January 8th 2024
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heich0e · 1 month
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"are you like... into that?"
you tear your eyes away from the screen a few seconds after rintarou says it, too rapt by what's unfolding in the movie scene to look away too soon.
"what do you mean?" you ask, glancing over to the other end of the sofa where he's seated. he's slumped down in the corner of the sofa, nestled right into the valley between the cushions where he always sits—which has resulted in a permanent sort of vaguely rintarou-shaped indentation that you hide using throw pillows when company comes over.
he's watching you very intently from his side of the sofa, too intently almost. you'd thought you'd felt his eyes on you while you were watching the movie, but you aren't exactly sure how long he's been staring, and now it leaves you wondering what exactly he's up to.
rintarou nods towards the television on the other side of the room, you look back at the screen once more and see the male lead still at the centre of the scene. he'd just gotten into a fight—shirtless, glistening with perspiration, and a strangely erotic trickle of blood trailing down his philtrum. you swallow a little as you become engrossed in the movie again, forgetting momentarily that you were ever asked a question at all.
"so?"
your eyes snap back to rintarou—who's still focused only on you, but with a slightly more disapproving look this time.
"what?" you ask him, a bit huffily. you're still not even sure what he'd been asking you in the first place.
"you've been ogling that guy since he got the shit kicked out of him," rintarou says pointedly, lifting a hand and gesturing towards the television. "you into that or something?"
there's something kind of accusatory in his tone.
"wha—hu—no," you stumble over your words in your haste to defend yourself. "i've told you i'm not into hardcore stuff. and that would constitute like... doctorate level BDSM."
rintarou's lips purse slightly. "do you think that guy's hot?"
"i mean... yeah," you answer after contemplating it for a moment. "i didn't really think so before but he's kinda sexy in this scene."
"he just got the shit kicked out of him," the boy at the other end of the sofa responds flatly.
"so you've pointed out," you answer. you turn back to the screen, watching as the battered male lead winds a roll of bandages around his ribs, then drags his knuckles roughly across his lips to clear away some of the blood that clings to them. your tongue peeks out to moisten your own unconsciously. "don't you think there's something kind of hot about a guy with a bit of blood on him?"
"is this a trick question?"
you look back at rintarou again, and find him still fixated on you rather than the film. he's pouting a bit, and it kind of makes you want to laugh. instead, you push yourself up from your own little nest at the opposite end of the sofa, crawling down towards him.
"rintarou, are you jealous because i called the bloody guy sexy?" you ask him as you pause at his side, resting back on your haunches.
he nibbles on the inside of his cheek—a habit he's had as long as you've known him—and for the first time in possibly the entire 54 minutes this movie has been playing, he averts his eyes from you.
"...no."
you do laugh then, swinging one leg over his lap to perch yourself atop him.
"you're being silly," you say to him as you balance yourself with your hands on his shoulders. his own come slithering up to settle at your waist, and his grip is a little tighter than you expect. he's still sulking though, refusing to look at you.
there's a loud crash in the film playing on the screen behind you, but you don't turn to look at it—you doubt that would help the situation at hand very much.
"rin," you coax him, making your voice as sweet as possible.
he doesn't look at you, but he does seem to bite the inside of his cheek a little harder now.
you dip down close to him, your mouth hovering over his and your eyes level. "rin-ta-rou."
he finally looks at you, his lips parting in surprise at your sudden nearness. you're so close that your mouths brush slightly thanks to that subtle movement, and he leans into the warmth of your lips to kiss you properly after getting such a small taste of it.
rintarou pulls away after one long, deep kiss, slouching back into the sofa again—but this time pulling you down with him into his little him-shaped indentation—holding you tightly to his chest as he gets you both comfortable. you let him maneuver you however he wants to, placating him with your docility to make him feel better, and keeping any comment about his jealousy to yourself—at least for now.
the two of you eventually find a comfortable way to rest, entwined together on his end of the sofa but both with a clear view to the screen to resume your spectating of the movie.
"what's so hot about a guy with a nosebleed anyway? i used to get them all the time when i was a kid," rintarou mumbles bitterly after a few moments, and you feel the words reverberate through his chest as you rest with your head upon it.
you laugh lightly, and your boyfriend's arms tighten around your waist.
he pipes up again after a few moments more pass in the film.
"you don't want me to start fighting or anything, do you?" he asks you skeptically.
you've effectively lost track of the movie's plot now, but you don't really care that much.
"no, rintarou, i don't want you to start fighting," you reply, patting his chest reassuringly. "you'd get your ass kicked anyway."
"well, apparently you're into that," he mutters.
"will you be quiet and just watch the movie, nosebleed boy?"
(a week later, rintarou sends you a photo from practice—having gracefully taken one of motoya's receives to the face—with an angry red welt on his cheek, blood dripping from his nose, and an obnoxious smirk on his lips. unfortunately, you are kinda into that.)
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