#✰ workie works

[tsumuhours]

CLANDESTINE PARING: suna rintarō x fem!reader TAGS: smut, best friends brother trope WORD COUNT: 5k

If there’s one thing about the end of exams and upcoming – high school – graduation, is the plethora of parties that follow. Call it what you want; schoolies, freedom, and an amazing – yet awful – experience full of drinking, hangovers, or the flu. 

At this moment, you’ve been crashing at the one and only Niki Suna’s home. Your best friend, and number one party animal who has a killer house in the centre of all the house parties being thrown by, now, old classmates. 

It has been incredible, her parents aren’t home which gives the two of you the freedom to leave every night and come back after midnight without any questions or secrecy. The only issue is that her twenty-year-old brother is home. 

Rintaro is not a big problem, he keeps to himself, never leaves his room. He’s only in the country for his sister's graduation, free food, and the fact that he doesn’t have to do his own laundry. Plus, it’s a free vacation. 

Although, the times he does come out of his room, you can’t help but feel awkward around him. The last he saw of you was two years ago, when you were sixteen – an age that wasn’t sweet at all. Despite the short time span, a lot can change in two years, you’re evidence of that statement. 

You’ve grown into your face, matured, and don't look as young anymore. You’ve gotten more confident with yourself, your body, and it all reflects in the clothes you wear. You speak with a certain command and authority, you walk with a grown confidence, and radiate an aura of gold. 

Who knew that the girl that he knew would morph and change into a completely different person in the span of two years? No one can blame him for keeping a fixed gaze on you whenever you pass by, it’s admirable to see the person you’ve become. 

However, it doesn’t matter how much self-confidence you’ve built up over the last two years. Around him, around his sharp stare and gaze, it’s hard to keep your head up or find the will to get up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water out of the anxiousness that he’ll be there too. 

Which brings you and Niki to now. Friday night, one thirty in the morning, the two of you are walking through the front door. You have managed to sober up from that mysterious, sweet, and addictive, rum punch concoction that you’ve had one too many glasses of.

You cannot say the same for Niki, who had spent the night downing one too many shots and has yet to ride out the alcohol. Nevertheless, she’s still able to walk on two feet and not stumble into every coffee table or shelf stacked with family photos. 

“Oh my god,” Niki laughs, kicking off her shoes by the door. “I kept my mouth shut about this at the party, but fuck what was Rina thinking going for Jennie’s man?” She scoffs, “We need to debrief in my room.” 

“Girl, I’ve got so much to fucking say about Rina.” You add, forcefully removing your shoes, “Like, I was talking to Jasmine earlier on the balcony and god has Rina been pissing a lot of people off recently.”

“Tell me about it,” Niki rolls her eyes, starting to walk up the steps with you following behind her. “Like, she was fucking wilding out tonight.” She mutters, pushing open her room door – revealing the mess created from getting ready – and collapsing onto her bed. 

You, however, reach into your bag for the little toiletries pack, wanting to get all the makeup off your face and make sure no future breakouts happen. Skin care is a priority. And head towards the ensuite bathroom, “And she didn’t even know what she was doing.” You say. 

“Me personally,” Niki hums, “if I was Jennie, I would’ve swung on that bitch.”

“That’s so fucking valid though,” you nod, pulling out a micellar wipe before dragging it over your eyes. “Like, what the fuck are you doing? Get away from my man, if it’s like, you know I’m into him, we’ve hooked up multiple times before, what are you doing?” 

“Literally!” Niki exclaims, “We’re supposed to be friends! Why are you cuddling next to him on the couch?” She questions, shaking her head at the awful events that transpired throughout the night. “But! Don’t think I didn’t see you and Atsumu earlier.” 

“What about me and Atsumu?” You question, poking your head through the open bathroom door – still scrubbing away the mascara from your eyes. “Bro, Helen even asked me about that! She was like: when did you and Atsumu get so close?” 

“Did you do anything?” Niki asks, sitting up from the bed. “I know you have tendencies to get with people then not tell me!” She laughs, “Who was it again? There was Mattsun, and then his best friends? You have a tendency to go for the whole group.” 

“No, no, I did not do anything with anyone tonight.” You reply, “I mean, I wanted to… don’t get me wrong, but I had a feeling no one was down.” 

“Ugh, boo!” She groans, “Shit, okay, I need to change.” Niki thinks aloud, standing up from the mattress, “God, I’m so fucking ready to knock out and have the best fucking sleep of my life.” 

Your best friend opens up her closet, digging out a big t-shirt and shorts. “God, I need some fucking water.” You mumble, tossing the dirty makeup wipes into the bin, “I peed like five times at the party.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Niki snorts, slipping through that big t-shirt of hers.

“Dehydration is the biggest cause of hangover headaches,” you inform. “We’ve got two more parties coming up, and I’d like to be in good shape for the next forty-eight hours of ragers.” You exit the bathroom, then dig into your bag to change into pyjamas. 

Simple. Shorts and a tank. You walk back into the bathroom, half closing the door as you get changed. “Okay, so go downstairs and get water.” Niki says, stating the obvious.

“Can you come with me?” You ask from the bathroom. 

“What? No, go by yourself.” She says, “You’ve been here a billion times before, my parents see you more than they see me. This is practically your second home, why do you need me to come with you?”

You adjust your tank top before stepping out into the bedroom, “Niki! Your brother is downstairs, I don’t want to go down there alone.” You plead, “If it was just us, or your mother, then yeah, I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Girl,” your best friend looks at you as if you’re crazy. “It’s Rintaro, he probably won’t even clock that you’re down there. He’s not the brightest in the bunch, he’s studying business.”

“Yeah, but like, can you just… please?” 

“You’ll be fine! He’s just Rintaro, and he’s probably high as fuck.” She assures, “He’s probably too stoned to care.” 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” You dramatically sigh, trudging towards the closed bedroom door. “I feel so betrayed right now.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” Niki laughs. “Hey, and since you’re going down there, get the big water bottles from the fridge and get those crab or prawn crackers from the pantry.” She adds, finding a perfect opportunity to stuff her face with snacks. 

Although, Niki is underestimating how tired she really is, because the second she gets comfortable in bed – she will be out like a light. Niki has always been a quick sleeper, she claims it’s iron deficiency. 

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” You wave her off, mentally preparing yourself as you walk down those steps. 

As you navigate towards the kitchen, there’s music playing quietly from the TV in the dark living room. Rap, hip-hop, 21 Savage. And no doubt, there’s Rintaro sitting on the couch, a weed pen between his lips as he sprawled out on the couch, the dim light from his laptop casting shadows on his face. 

Lord knows what overdue assignment he’s working on, or how he can possibly be in the right state of mind to write a 2,800 word essay before the – extensions – deadline. 

Still, he lays on the couch, inhaling that condensed form of THC. Wearing sweats and a flannel that has been – purposely – unbuttoned. The way he sees it, is if you can wear those little black shorts with the white rims, he can unbutton his flannel. 

Now, never in a million years did he think he’d find himself attracted to you. It’s not meant to be an insult, but after watching you go through the most unflattering, awkward, phases and being his little sister's best friend… this new change, of seeing who you are now hit him like a pile of bricks. 

Besides it’s not fair to see you parade around in those clothes, unknowingly teasing him. The past couple days have been hell, a game of look but never touch. You’ve been connected at the hip with Niki, you’ve been avoiding him. 

Talking loudly about these random guys who looked ‘so fit’ at whatever party. Yeah, he’s heard those late night conversations you’ve been having. Niki doesn’t know how to close a door, and the walls are quite thin. 

Rintaro just wants a little fun, he wants to poke the bear, he wants to mess with you. Nothing serious. Just something to keep him entertained, being home has been extremely boring, and the last thing he wants to do is hang around a bunch of high schoolers at parties. 

His eyes glance up from his laptop screen, watching you like a fox, as you walk into the kitchen. He watches you as you grab that litre water bottle from the fridge, then dig into the pantry for those god awful prawn crackers. 

Rintaro gets up from the couch and approaches you. This is his chance, his chance to have a little fun, to get into your head with some sadistic ploy that will now doubt keep you up at night. Nothing more than a little flirty comment. 

“Fun night?” He hums, catching you off guard as you hold the heavily inflated packet to your chest. “It seems like you and Niki are out every day, how many parties could there possibly be?” 

“You should know, you went through the same thing.” You comment, calmly, nonchalantly. You can’t let him see that he gets to you in a way no one else does. 

Rintaro is the type of guy who is attractive and knows it. He’s cocky, and until now, barely gave you the time of day – or looked at you the way he’s doing now. It’s obvious, it’s in his eyes, one of the main reasons you’ve been avoiding him. 

He’s giving you the look that you’re no stranger to. 

You know what he’s doing, and lord knows you’ve played these exact same games in the last couple months. Nevertheless, that doesn’t excuse the pick up of your heart, or the slight shake in your hands as you talk to him. Rintaro is a tall guy, he’s intimidating, and on top of it all, crazy attractive. 

Anybody would be nervous. 

Even you, with your big mouth and presented confidence. 

“But yeah, it was a good night.” You add, walking over to the counter to grab the bottle of water. You can’t be gone for long, that would only raise questions from the very best friend who is waiting upstairs for her snacks. 

Or so you think, at this moment, Niki is knocked out on her bed – late night scrolling on socials instantly sent her to sleep – as what was previously mentioned, Niki underestimated how tired she was. 

“Anything interesting happen?” Rintaro asks, resting back against the countertop. “From what I heard Rina is about to get shunned from the friend group,” he teases. 

“Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about that if she had backed off.” You reply, “Never go for a friend's man, that’s claimed territory.” 

“What about brothers?” He muses, “Are they off limits too?” 

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, that was corny. “Yeah, I’d say they are.” You nod, fighting back the temptation to playfully flirt back. “It’s worse if this brother is someone you’ve known since you were thirteen.” You shrug.

“Well, if I could plead the case that the brother probably didn’t want to push any boundaries before, and didn’t see the sister's friend as a proper… prospect.” He says, “Besides, no fifteen-year-old would ever consider looking at someone younger. That’s weird.” 

“How is it different now?” You question, “It’s still two years.” 

“Eighteen is an appropriate age for a respectable gap of that size,” Rintaro hums. “It’s not like I’ll be playing on an illegal field either.”

“‘I’ll’?” You repeat, “What are you implying Rintaro?” 

There you go, you’ve caught him. May as well surrender and stop whatever he’s planning. A real shame though, you’d be lying if you say you’ve never considered or thought about what it’d be like. It’s just that, he’s your best friend's brother. 

Sure, the song is a good escape and great material to think about, but it’s not something you actually ever considered pursuing. He makes you nervous, even talking to him now feels like a crime. And the fact that you’re flirting doesn’t make the situation any better. 

“I’m not implying anything,” he shrugs. “And I don’t know what possibly drew you to that conclusion,” he says. “Are you implying something?” 

“Well, I don’t see any reason for something to be implied.” You shake your head, “All I’m wondering is why you brought up the concept of brothers being off limits, as if anything like that has stopped you before.” 

“Oh, wow, you’ve got a sharp tongue.” Rintaro remarks, “Flirting with me, and patronising me at the same time. I have to say, I’m impressed.” 

“That’s nice, but I should get back to Niki.” You say, “You know, your sister, my best friend, who is currently upstairs.”

“Oh, come on, you and I both know that she’d probably be knocked out in bed.” He comments, “Stay down here for a while, I could use the company.” 

“I know what you’re doing, Rintaro.” You inform, “I see it in your eyes, and it’s not going to happen.” 

He’s been looking at you as if you’re prey. And the alcohol still in your system makes it a lot easier to talk to him without stuttering over your words or getting flustered. His stare is probably the worst part about this whole interaction. 

“What am I doing?” He asks. 

He’s failed to realise that it’s hard to play a player. If you were considering flirting back, it’d be sly. The small hand placements, comments, the simplest of looks that would trap him in. You have your system, and it works. It worked for Matsukawa and all his friends. 

And it would have worked on Rintaro. 

“You know what you’re doing,” you hum. “Now, I will be heading back upstairs. Lord knows I’m not drunk enough to betray my best friend.”

“And I’m not high enough to not care about the consequences,” Rintaro shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I still don’t want to do it.” He takes a step closer to you, grabbing the items in your hand and places them down on the countertop. 

“You cannot be serious right now,” you shake your head. Sure, you knew that he was trying to play you, use you for a little entertainment, but you didn’t actually think he was being serious. You didn’t actually think he’d make a move. 

And no, he’s not expecting anything to happen or to come from this. He’s pushing his limits, seeing how far he can get until you end up running off. If anything, what’s persuaded him to be so forward is the sight of that little gummy bear charm hanging from your necklace. That stupid pink charm that you and Niki got as a symbol of your friendship or whatever.

That stupid pink charm that dips down to the crevice of your chest – something he hasn’t seen before, considering, in the past, they’d always be hidden behind a hoodie or some unflattering t-shirt. 

“I’m being serious,” he hums. Going along with some bit he’s come up with in his head. His fingers wrap around that little pink gummy bear as he plays with it. 

“Don’t do that, don’t even try Rintaro.” You shut him down, looking up into those striking pair of eyes, “Niki is upstairs. What would she think if she came down here and saw this?” You question, swatting his hand away. 

Curse your fucking loyalty. 

Rintaro rolls his eyes, placing his hands on either side of you on the counter, trapping you between his arms. “Niki this, and Niki that. She’s not down here, is she?” He questions, “What if Niki wasn’t a problem? Because, it seems like your only defence here is that she’s upstairs.” 

“That’s because she is,” you say. “I can’t possibly encourage this type of… behaviour with you. You’re her brother.” 

“What if I wasn’t?” He hums, “Would you change your mind then?” 

“Will you let me go if I tell you?” You ask, wanting to get out of this situation before anything bad happens. 

“Yeah, I will.” 

You sigh, meeting his gaze. And the sight of looking down at you, the flash of darkness in your eyes, it all sends Suna off a ledge. This must be what happens when he pokes the bear. There’s something behind your eyes, something that fucking pulls him in. That has him thinking this isn’t a joke, or a game anymore. 

“If you weren’t my best friend's brother, then yes, I would change my mind.” You reply truthfully, “Honestly, if I were drunk enough, or bold enough, I would change my mind. I’d even risk saying that if Niki weren’t upstairs right now, I’d change my mind.” 

“She doesn’t have to know,” Rintaro hums. “It’ll be a temporary fix, nothing serious. No one has to know.” He composes himself, trying to steer the conversation back to his control. He can’t show weakness. 

He can’t show how much he wants it now. 

“As much as I love temporary fixes,” you begin, “and the idea of sneaking around… I don’t think it’s the best idea.” Now you’re teasing him, running your hands down his flannel. He can’t poke the bear and not expect to get bitten. 

You know you shouldn’t be doing this, you know you’ve been so back and forth, but you can’t help but find some fun in this situation. It’ll be like one prolonged drum roll, an ellipsis, something which implies more but is never finished or reveals an ending. 

“Well sometimes we have to be selfish,” he whispers. The tension building up in his veins, blood, and mind. “And the best ideas aren’t always the smartest.” His hand moves to play with the ends of your shorts, the faint linger of his touch brushing against your thigh, up to your hips to the hem of your shorts. 

“I shouldn’t.” Correction, you shouldn’t be the one to make the first move. If he wants this, he will make the first move – despite everything which was just said, you won’t stop him. There’s something electrifying about the light touches, the tension you helped escalate. 

He wanted to play a game, and a game is what you’re giving him. 

“You shouldn’t, but you can.” Rintaro mumbles, unbeknownst to the fact that you’ve managed to have him wrapped around your finger in a matter of seconds – of playing dumb – due to the simple trick of making him feel wanted. 

“Lord knows I can, but what about Niki?” 

“She can go fuck herself.” He says, immediately connecting his lips with yours in a heated kiss. 

Kissing Rintaro is nothing like you’ve experienced, kissing him is like daring to run over knives or fire, it’s a rush of adrenaline caused by a strike of lightning. Kissing him is like knowing you’re doing something bad, but it’s too addictive to pull away. His eyes close, hands firmly placing themselves on your hips.

Rintaro pulls you closer to him, your hands tangling themselves in his hair. He gives in, kissing you with a growing desperation, arms snaking around your waist. Mouths linking together in a mess, tongue slipping past. 

He can taste the remnants of alcohol on your tongue, and you can smell the weed that has attached itself onto his clothes. 

He’s deep and urgent, pushed by the forces and temptation of a quick temporary fix, an illicit affair, and clandestine meeting. His hands travel down to your ass, underneath your shorts, holding the flesh in his hands. 

His touch lingers down to your thighs, Rintaro lifts you up onto the counter. Your hands run down his bare chest, and he shudders at your touch. Cold fingertips trailing down his body, to then pull at the drawstrings of his sweats. 

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You know that Niki could come downstairs at any moment and see the position you’re currently in; legs wrapped around her older brother, his hands exploring his body, learning every curve and crevice. Entangled together, connected by a messy kiss fueled by boredom, and frustration. 

Out of breath and completely intoxicated by the moment. Suna’s hand travels up, tugging down the tank top. Exposed to him, the chill of the night in the cold. He moves down, kissing your neck, throat, and the slope of your shoulders. Lips attaching themselves onto your chest, tongue placed flat against your nipple.

His breaths come in harder, faster. Your hands threaded in his hair, clinging to him in this ice-cold heat you’ve been placed in. Pulling at the roots, bringing him back up to your lips. Suna’s hand replaces his mouth, beginning to knead the flesh.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathe out. He’s moving away from your lips, moving down to nibble and bite at the sensitive skin on your neck and jaw. 

“But it feels good doesn’t it?” Rintaro hums against your neck, holding your body against his chest, trying to devour every piece of you he can. Loving the way you shudder at his touch, and the shortness of your breath. “I know you want me, because god knows, I want you. It’s only one night princess.” 

He returns to hover over you, head tilted down as he uses his thumb and index finger to bring your chin up. Looking down at you with a sinful glint in his eyes, grinning at you like the devil. Almost obsessed with the seemingly innocent, wide eyed look in your eyes, slightly parted lips. 

His thumb drags down your bottom lip, continuing to tilt your head up at him, keeping your gaze in place. “Come on, one night is not bad. Nothing is wrong with a little quick fix.” 

“Well, I’d rather not risk my morals, and integrity for something quick.” 

A flame ignites behind those eyes, a quirk of his eyebrow. “Whatever you say,” he says. Rintaro hoists you off the counter, your legs wrapped around his torso, as he carries you towards the couches. He throws you down onto the cushions, wraps his fingers around the bundled up fabric of your tank top and pulls it over your head. 

Then he drops down to his knees, in front of you. He tugs down your shorts along with your underwear, leaving you completely exposed on the couches. Rintaro pushes your legs apart, “Keep them open for me.” He smiles, pulling your body closer to his face. 

His tongue darts out, lips enveloping themselves around your clit. He uses a free hand aiding the stimulation. He’s devouring your cunt as if he’s never eaten before, as if he’s intoxicated by the feeling of the moment and the sinful act of going down on his younger sister's best friend out in the open on the couch. 

Savouring your taste on his tongue, his fingers prodding your entrance. 

Your back arches, throwing your head back. Chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, quiet and hushed whimpers escaping from your lips. One hand gripping onto the cushion behind you as the other pulls roughly on his hair. Hips bucking up, obsessed with the insatiable sensation of Rintaro’s tongue on your clit and fingers curling inside you. 

Suna hooks your legs over his shoulders, diving deeper into your cunt. Willingly obliging to the fact you’re pushing him closer. At the twitch of your legs, Rintaro quickens his movements, wanting to milk you and push you towards your orgasm. 

Whimpers and muffled moans, a strain of fuck, don’t stop, although the most motivating of them all is the pretty sound of his name slipping off your tongue. “Rin,” you say. A fire burning up in your abdomen, as he begins to leave a trail of sloppy kisses from your clit up to your stomach and chest. 

In the absence of his tongue, his fingers move quickly against your clit – forceful movements – determined to have you reach your peak. Your hips jolt forward, lost in the haze of pleasure that succumbs you. 

Eyes clenched shut and mouth agape, it’s a fucking sinful sight. 

Suna reconnects his lips with yours in a sloppy makeout, drowning out your moans and taking them in as his own. A result of his fingers, you’re shivering under him, so needy and desperate. “Go on sweetheart,” he whispers. The pads of his fingers rubbing harshly against your sensitive clit.

Your nails dig into his back, forehead leaning against his shoulder as you feel yourself reach climax. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” breathing out, your body growing weak under his touch. Mind spinning from pleasure. 

Strained whines, legs pushed back as he milks out your orgasm. Rintaro hovers over you, impressed by his own work and your finger and tongue fucked expression. He runs another finger through your folds, lapping up the cum and saliva. 

Using his free hand, Suna grips the back of your head, tugging harshly at the roots of your hair as he forces you to look at him. Then forces his fingers past your lips and onto your tongue, “Suck.” He instructs. Reluctantly, your lips wrap around his fingers as he slowly pulls them from your mouth. 

There you are, tired eyes, and completely vulnerable and exposed underneath hin. But the little smirk that appears on your lips. You sit up, pushing him back against the couch. Cocky as ever, Suna sits back, memorising the beautiful sight in front of him. 

He watches you with lustful eyes as you work your way down his body, tugging down his sweats. Your hand wrapping around his dick, stroking it, pumping him. Rolling your wrist over the tip, milking out the precum. 

“You got a rubber?” 

“I’ll pull out,” 

You shrug, placing a hand on his shoulders, pushing him down onto the couch and keeping him down. Lining his dick with your entrance, you lower yourself onto him. The sensation, and feeling, of your walls clenching around his dick sends him spiralling. 

His head rolls back, hands reaching up to grip at your hips. You roll your hips, finding all the right places for you, and absolutely driving him insane. She begins to lift, setting up a steady rhythm. “Oh, fuck, you little tease.” Suna breathes out. 

He has laboured breaths at the irresistible and mind-fucking feeling of you taking him in all so well, your tight little cunt that sends him off the edge. Getting to have you all, without a barrier. The rise and fall of your hips, bouncing on top of him. A hand reaching up to your chest to grab a tit, a thumb running over your nipple. 

You grab his wrist and pin it back behind his head, “No touching.” 

“We’ll see about that,” he groans. Quickly changing your positions, flipping you around until you're face down on the couch. Suna lifts your hips up, pushing down on your back to create an arch. He keeps a hand on the back of your head. He pushes his dick inside, causing you to intake a sharp breath. “What was that sweetheart?” He teases. 

A firm hand placed on the side of your ass, as thrust into you. A quiet “fuck” sounds from his throat as he begins to fist your hair in his hand. He rolls his hips, roughly, forcefully pushing into you. Bottoming out to reach the deepest part of you. 

Breath taken away from you, gripping onto the fabric of the couch. Back arching at an insane angle, “Ah,” you moan. He snaps his hips forward again, feeling weak and heavy from the current position, and the consistent thrusts coming from Suna. 

His movements become harsher, rougher, as he pounds into you. He pulls your head back by your hair, leans forward until his chest is placed against your back. Suna connects your lips in a roush kiss, biting down on your bottom lip. 

Although, he quickly disappears again, lost in the moment. His hands gripping onto your hips as he pulls you to him, matching his thrusts. You begin to lose any ounce of strength left in your body, letting your upper body lay slack on the couch. 

Suna lands a slap on your ass, kneading the flesh as he continues to thrust into you from behind. “Oh, fuck,” he groans. “You feel so good,” he hums, “fuck, I want to see your pretty fucked out face.” 

He pulls out, flips you around, hoisting your leg over his shoulder. He wraps a hand around your throat, basking in the way you grip onto his wrist. Looking at him with those half-lidded eyes, as he pushes into you. Loving the way your pussy sucks him in, loving the look of his dick moving in and out of your cunt. 

He picks up the pace, eyes fixed on your chest and how they bounce given each forceful buck of his pelvis. “Faster,” you whimper, gripping onto his hair. “Fuck me,” you plead. 

Suna pounds into you with relentless speed, and under him you’re falling apart. Becoming nothing more than a limp body that had been taken over by an overwhelming amount of stimulation and force. With the growing pit in your loins growing incredibly, the heel of your foot digging into his back. Dark vision growing blurry, mind clouding – blocking any thought or action, temporarily blocking your senses as you started to reach your peak.

Your pussy clenching around his dick, it sends Rintaro off a spiral, and he’s threatening to break. You’re close, so close, and all you need is one last push. His hips slam into you, body filling with pleasure as your orgasm rides out.

Suna quickly pulls out in time, cumming all over your stomach. He crashes down onto you, snaking an arm around your waist as he rests his head onto chest. Your hand brushing his hair, trying to regain your breath. 

“So, how long are you going to be in town for?”

“Until graduation, why? Wanna do it again?”

“I’d like to hear those whimpers again.”

[skinheadworkie]

who wants a shot?

[muddyoveralls90]

[colbleuworker]

[lilbodybuildermk2]

Big muscular workman. I bet you guys would just love me to come to your place and do some hard heavy sweaty labouring for you and watch me flexing my huge muscles fo you too!

[amuseoffyre]

tfw colleagues have clearly not listened to and/or retained any information about a thing you have been providing progress and details on for years and are now questioning why it's happening when the deadline is in the final countdown. And there is a hard copy right there. RIGHT THERE. And after MULTIPLE face to face meetings about it!

[gsdcf]

Wer weiht meine neuen buckbootz ein?

[seokmattchuus]

When Matthew tells you he's been a bit stressed with debut preparations, you help him get his mind off of things. With some handcuffs and a torturous, never-ending hand job.

[tsumuhours]

MAKE IT TO THE MORNING PAIRING: miya atsumu x fem!reader TAGS: lowkey toxic relationship, smut, cunnilingus. WORD COUNT: 5.3k

Miya Atsumu is not someone you can simply let go of. He’ll yell at you to leave, pack your things, and get out while chasing after you, begging and pleading with you to stay.

Where it's a rocky relationship, and he wants you to reconsider leaving him. He wants you to stay after a fight.

mature content !

There had to be some reasonable explanation for how you’d gotten into this continuous back and forth of shouting, screaming, and tears. It was a curse, you believed—some form of twisted karmic retribution from a past life, determined to ensure a lesson be learned in this one. It was a curse to be obsessed and in love with the thrill, the toxicity, and the question of which version of him you will get today. You didn’t know how or why you’d gotten yourself in that position, let alone how you’d let it go on so long. 

There were nights when you wished you could let go—when you did let go and walked away—but even then, letting him go proved to be a much more difficult task because Miya Atsumu is not someone you can simply let go of. He’ll yell at you to leave, pack your things, and get out while chasing after you, begging and pleading with you to stay. 

When you first laid eyes on him, you hadn’t expected things to go the way they did. 

Atsumu was a friend of a friend. He was loudly proud but kept to himself. He didn’t care about the new girl his teammate was dating or her equally less important friends. You hadn’t expected a single interaction at a party to turn into weeks, maybe months, of drunk calls, hook-ups, and long talks into the late night. And you hadn’t expected him anything real from what – you had assumed – was a mutual casual fling, but for once, you were wrong. 

You had found yourself tied to him, almost attached to his smiles and gentle touch as if you were the most delicate possession in the world. You got off on the stolen glances, how his eyes would always look for yours in a room and the quiet moments when he’d clasp a necklace around your neck. A casual, drunken fling and late-night hookups became something real, something reciprocated– something he initiated.

It was hard to let go of those moments – of seeing him smile, or when you’re half-awake in his arms, and he’s tracing his knuckles along your jawline, those usual cocky eyes so soft as they look at you, wondering how he got so lucky. 

Atsumu wasn’t a bad guy. He knew how to care and love, and you knew how fast his heart would beat whenever you got close. But together, you two could be disastrous, like fire and water. The constant fights, scream matches, and thin white lies he makes sound so pretty—his ability to point out every little mistake of yours and rip your heart out and leave. 

Your friends, roommates, and even one of Atsumu’s teammates told you he wasn’t worth it—that it didn’t matter how good, how needed, and how wanted he made you feel because Atsumu could take it away in seconds. He could make his words hurt, carving out your heart with a blunt knife and perfect precision. 

With mascara running down your face, storming out of another fight, your heart beating rapidly against your chest, and your mind reeling, repeating the phrase: ‘This is the last time.’ No more fights, no more him, you’re ready to leave– to finally take your friend’s advice. With long strides, your feet take you away from his bedroom, body and mind running on autopilot as you head toward the front door of his apartment. 

Atsumu chases after you almost frantically. He was not going to let you simply end it with weak excuses, blaming it on your friends (well, he was blaming the decision on your friends), only for you to walk away the second he started pleading his case on why you were wrong. “Don’t fucking walk away from me!” Atsumu’s voice was loud in your ears, hot on your heels, “Will ya just stop!” His hand catches your wrist, spinning you around to face him. 

“I don’t want to talk to you!” You snapped, your tone surprising not only Atsumu but yourself. You were frustrated and on edge, and the forty bucks you’d spent on a singular mascara had gone to waste as the colour faded on your cheeks– washed away by spilled tears. His hand dropped from your wrist at the pure look of defeat clouding your eyes, “We’re done, ‘Tsumu, done.” 

His jaw ticked as he took you in, staring at the tears staining your face. His nostrils flared, eyes narrowing, "Don't even, don't even say that. I— don't bullshit me; I know you're not done with me." His jaw tense, a flash of panic behind his eyes that betrayed the stoic demeanour he’d built up. “No.” He said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down at you. “We’re not done, not until we talk about it.”

Maybe there was some truth behind his words; you weren’t done with him. In a sense, you could never be done with him. How many times had you stormed out of a fight, had he stormed out of a fight, only for the both of you to be back together within the next week? But even then, you gave him a chance ‘to talk about it,’ and he tossed it into the fire when he started blaming your friends instead of listening to the points you made.

“We already did!” 

“No, we didn’t!” He argued, “We didn’t fucking talk about it! You didn’t give me any good reasons for this decision and sounded impulsive.” He let out a sharp, almost humourless laugh, scrubbing a hand down his face. He was tense, just as on edge as you. 

“Impulsive?” You echoed with a scoff, “For wanting to break up with you? Please be so fucking serious, Atsumu!” And then it came again, the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, the lump in your throat, out of pure frustration from his inability to listen. “I gave you a million reasons!” 

“Then give me a million more!” His voice raised, Atsumu ran a hand through his hair, his head shaking and his movements stiff. “I’m not going to let ya storm out like ya always do! Fuck that!” He scoffed, brown eyes focused on you as he took a step closer, his fingers pressed against his chest, almost pleading as he added, “Baby, just talk to me.” 

You sighed, rapidly blinking, hoping it would somehow push the tears away. Both hands ran through your hair, “I just can’t keep doing this, Tsumu!” Letting out a choked, defeated, tired laugh. “This stupid back and forth! All these fucking fights!”

"You think I can?! You think I like fighting like this? You think I like you running out and away from me – I swear to god, yer always running away...!" Anger laced his voice as his hand curled into a tight fist at his side; his jaw tensed as frustration clouded his eyes. He swallowed, breathing in, unable to look at you as he tried to compose himself– feeling as if the ground was slipping out from under his feet. "All these fights?" He echoed, scoffing as a bitter smile curled on his lips. “Ya think I like this, baby? You think I wake up excited to fight with ya? You think I like being the reason ya cry and feeling like I’ve lost my mind over you?”

Atsumu was losing his composure; that much was obvious. Many factors contributed to that feeling: his frustration, how riled up you got him, the daunting desperation rising in his chest, the panic, the need to grasp you tightly and never let you go, the voices shouting at him to just kick you out of his apartment, to be petty and let you leave, or to get on his knees and beg you to reconsider, to give him another chance. 

“I never said that!” Tears escaped your eyes at your exclamation; your voice strained from the lump in your throat too big to talk through. “We can’t keep doing this ‘Tsumu! We’re the only ones who don’t see how we’re a fucking disaster together! Neither of us like it, but we keep fucking doing it!”

Atsumu’s lip curled, his words coming out sharp and frustrated. “And what do you want me to do about it, huh?” He yelled, hands fisting in his hair, feeling as if he was spiralling. “You want me to— to— stop how I feel about you, how much I— I..” He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You want us to what, break up for good? That's what ya want, huh?”

Shaking your head, a shaky hand wiped away your tears. No, that was not what you wanted, even though it was what you said– even though that is something you should want. It felt so much more complicated than you intended; this was the opportunity you were supposed to take– your way out of an endless cycle of arguments, but you’d also lose him in the process. 

Were you willing to lose Atsumu? His laughter, his jokes, the safety and comfort he provided, how he made you feel like the most important person in the world? The impromptu lunch dates, his messy attempts at cooking as you’d sit on the counter with a glass of wine or even the way he’d wrap his arms around you and rest his head on your lap after a long day. 

“I–” you paused, ready to tell him, ‘Yes, that is what I want,’ but with your crumbling willpower, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. “I don’t know.” Maybe he did have a point. Maybe you were being impulsive. 

Atsumu watched you intently, his eyes flickering over your face, trying to read past the tears, your frustrated expression, and the anger in your eyes. “You don’t know,” he repeated, his tone laced with bitter, sarcastic disbelief. He shook his head, scoffing. “You tell me you don’t want to do this anymore, that we’re done, and then you don’t even know what ya want?” He stepped forward, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “Baby, I’m trying here. Ya gotta give me something.”

The blond felt like he was falling apart, his shoulders hunched, his hands clenching and unclenching uselessly at his sides, wanting to reach out and touch you. His jaw worked overtime as he struggled to control his emotions. He felt out of control, in every sense of the word, and it drove him insane.

“I don’t know, ‘Tsumu.” You huffed, exasperated with yourself, him, and everything. “I don’t know! I don’t know, I don’t know!” Repeating the words as if they have any substance or provide clarity to the situation, his words, and your emotions. “All I know is that we shouldn’t be together.” You sighed, overwhelmed. 

You two shouldn’t be together. All your friends say you shouldn’t be together, and you believe it, too, but you want him so badly.

Atsumu’s expression contorted a mix of frustration and hurt. “Why the hell shouldn’t we be together?” He stepped towards you, his hands cupping the sides of your face in a haunting featherlike touch despite the bite in his words. “Because your friends said so? Because we argue? Yeah, maybe we do, but we also love each other.” He clenched his jaw, eyes desperate as he stared down at you, “We can’t just— give up on us.”

His thumbs wiped away your tears, and your mind and heart defied every rational thought and alarm bells. Your friends would be so disappointed, but they won’t get it. They don’t get him. And it’s not like you were perfect either; lord knows you haven’t been the best either – hell, you’re sure that Atsumu’s friends had said you’re not worth the trouble, but yet, there he was, always ready to beg you to stay. 

‘Stand up!’ The voice in your head yells, “It’s not just because we argue, ‘Tsumu,” mumbling out the words. “It’s the fact that it feels like we’re constantly running in place, that we’re always taking one step forward and three steps back,” you explained, your hand placing itself over one of his. 

Atsumu’s expression softened just slightly. His chest ached at your words, and he almost felt you’d resigned yourself to giving up. “We can do better,” his voice held a hint of a plea as he lowered his head, his gaze focused on you. He said, “Baby, I can do better. Yer all that matters to me. Let me be a better man for you.”

As you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off.

“Please, don’t give up on us.” Atsumu pleaded, his voice threatening to crack. “I don't wanna fight with ya. I hate fighting with ya. I can’t stand it when yer not talking to me. I can’t stand it when ya storm out.” His hands holding your face, fingers in your hair, “Let’s just make it to the morning, see how ya feel then, alright?” 

Atsumu carefully searched your eyes for any hint of opposition or argument, which he didn’t find. At that point, you had thrown in the towel, ran away from the consequences and ran straight into him (metaphorically speaking). Yes, you might never learn your lesson. Every fight (that isn’t walked out of) ends the same, with one of you spewing pretty words that aim to disarm and keep the other within reach. 

And it’d always be worth it until the next fight, next argument, the next time you’re storming out of his apartment and when he’s slamming doors. “Okay,” a whisper, a quiet agreement, left your lips– knowing that your attempt to end things had inevitably failed, but even then, some part of you was glad. Smug and satisfied that he had cared enough to try to make you stay. 

“Yeah?” Atsumu breathed out, tangling his fingers in your hair, gently tugging on it, tilting your head backwards. 

“Yeah.” Assuring him and yourself. 

He kissed your forehead, another at the tip of your nose, and another on your lips. His lips were always soft and had a faint taste of the chapstick you thought you’d lost. The kiss was gentle and slow as if you were fragile and precious, but he kept it chaste, unrushed, to show you he was sorry. Then the hand he had tangled in your hair tightened, and an arm snaked around your waist, pulling you even closer against him. Atsumu deepened the kiss, nipping at your lower lip, gently demanding more before his tongue slipped between parted lips. He could taste you, the hint of salt from your tears; it fueled him and made him want more. 

He shifted, pushing you back against the wall, his body flush against yours. Your hands ran down the expanse of his chest, down his stomach, feeling him through his shirt. A low moan rolled out of the back of his throat, the sound sending a shiver through you. Atsumu presses his body against yours even harder, his rolling to meet yours. The hand, not tangled in your hair, roughly grabbed at your hip, holding you against him. 

Atsumu disconnected your lips, tugging your head back by your hair, giving him access to your neck as he dragged his tongue and lips from your jaw to your collarbones. Pulling skin between his teeth, messy bites along the crook of your neck, scattering the minor bruises like a painter working on an empty canvas. His teeth grazed against your skin, wanting to leave his mark on you. He could feel you, every movement, every sound. The way you rolled your hips, he could feel you against him, could feel how badly you wanted him.

As if you ever thought you could end things with him.

“Jump,” he mumbled against your neck, his grip on your hair releasing, trailing down your back. Atsumu wanted you so damn badly. He needed you, needed to feel you against him, needed his body on yours.

Your legs wrapped around his torso, his hands holding you up, your arms draped over his shoulders. Kissing him again, rushed, messy, deep, and urgent, as if you can’t afford to take your time or waste the moment. He carries you to the bedroom, dropping you onto the bed, where you’re resting against the pillows, and he’s positioning himself on top of you with a hand sliding up the hem of your shirt, tracing the curve of your waist. 

Atsumu’s lips started moving lower again, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck – stopping to nip at your collarbone. His touch found a spot on your chest, palming you, fingers digging into flesh, a thumb running over your nipple. He began to pull at the fabric of your shirt, the fabric between his hands, "take this off." he demanded breathlessly.

He didn’t hesitate to toss your shirt halfway across the room the second it slipped past your head, and you didn’t hesitate to paw at his immediately. Pushing you back down onto the mattress, Atsumu’s hands entwined with yours, pinning them on either side of you, as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest. His tongue ran over the sensitive peak of your nipple, his lips wrapping around you. 

"God, yer so beautiful," Atsumu mumbled against your chest. His hands pinned your wrists against the mattress, keeping you there, unable to move. He looked up at you, his eyes darkening as he took in every inch of you beneath him. He continued to place tender kisses against your skin, but they were far from gentle. They were rough, biting kisses, more bites than kisses, leaving dark red marks behind their wake.

You couldn’t help but writhe under him. To let out a quiet moan, to arch into him, to roll your hips up against his. You were needy, craving more of his touch, his mouth, his tongue – all of him, a piece of him – whatever you could get. Atsumu could make you feel so good without trying; every minuscule touch caused your stomach to flip and the heat to rush between your legs. 

He moved even lower, his lips trailing a path of tender and rough kisses down your stomach, stopping right before the edge of your pants. He looked up at you, his hands tightening around your wrists. "Tell me you’re mine, baby..." he breathlessly murmured against your skin. Tell him you won’t leave; tell him you’re his, no matter the circumstances or the fights and tears. “Say it,” he muttered, looking up at you with lustful brown eyes, his lips dragging along your hip. 

“I’m yours,” you breathed, “I’m yours, ‘Tsumu.”

His eyes clouded, his voice coming out as a low growl, “Lift your hips for me.” He released your wrists, his fingers gripping the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them off with a swift pull, frantic to remove the final barrier between you. 

He tossed the discarded material to the side, his eyes raking down your body. He sat back for a moment, taking you all in. His eyes trailed over you, pausing at the various dark red marks, his red marks, now littering the skin of your neck and chest, along your stomach. He gently spread your legs apart, his thumbs tracing small lazy patterns against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, never taking his eyes off of you. His gaze was intense; his eyes darkened, daring goosebumps to rise across your skin.

He wanted you, and you knew it. You could feel it based on how he gripped your skin and how his thumbs traced small, lazy patterns against your inner thighs. He slowly leaned down, hovering over you, his eyes glued to yours. Then, his fingers slip between your folds, feeling the dampness between your legs. Already so fucking wet. The pads of his fingers pressed against your clit in a torturous touch.

Atsumu could feel your body tense, your breath hitch at the contact – and he loved every damn moment of it. He could feel the heat coming from your core, the wetness of your cunt, aching for his touch, aching for him just to give you what you need – what you both need. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice low. "Who do ya belong to, baby?"

A whimper escaped your throat, the flow movements of his fingers lazily rubbing circles against your clit, needing him to apply more pressure, to move faster, to touch you. “I’m yours, ‘Tsumu.” 

His hands continued. Each second made you even more desperate for him. He worked his way down, his breath fanning against your skin, his lips close enough that his words were a ghost against your body, "Remember that the next time yer friends try shittin’ on us.” He was taunting you, positioning himself between your spread legs, using his free hand – that one which wasn’t teasing your clit – to wrap your leg around his shoulder. “I’m gonna give ya something to make noise about.”

Oh shit. 

Of course, he was still pissed off. Well, no, not necessarily pissed off – maybe a little bit too prideful, cocky, and irritated that your fucking friends had so much to say about him and your relationship. Consider this an apology on his part and some prideful, possessive performance to remind you that no one can try to come in between you and him.

Atsumu did not hesitate to bury himself between your legs, his tongue darting out to taste you, roughly working against (or in favour) the intense throb and ache. Harsh, messy, and rough as if to prove a point. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, fingertips digging into the flesh and keeping your legs spread out for him as he explored you with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. Instinctively, at the insatiable pleasure, you bucked your hips into him – back arching off the bed and head rolling against the pillows. 

Feeling your body arch into him, Atsumu let out a growl against your skin, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he lost himself in the sensation. He wanted to drive you wild, leave you needy and breathless beneath him. Atsumu wanted to fuck you with tongue so good that the thought of leaving him would be erased from your mind. He wanted you to crumble under him, scream for him, and lose all composure despite not even having fucked you yet. 

As your fingers roughly tangled themselves in his hair, he added more pressure with his tongue, finding the sweet spots that made you moan and squirm beneath him. His lips wrapped around your clit, assaulting you with his tongue – and lord was the sight sinful. Atsumu consumed you like a starved man, and the best meal was your dripping cunt. Your grip on his hair, tight and desperate, caused him to look up at you– your shaking, needy breaths and the rise and fall of your tits– and like the devil he is, Atsumu’s teeth nipped down on you. 

At that, your pull on his hair tightened, “You fucking– shit!” The sentence was cut off with a breathy moan that was pulled from your throat as he inserted two fingers, curling them and reaching that sweet spot that had you instantly reacting. His tongue, lips, teeth, and fingers elicited a very needy strain of whimpers and moans. 

As you clutched his hair, the heel of your foot digging into his back, Atsumu's movements became even more voracious. He knew you were trying to hold back, to keep your voice down, but he loved it when you let go, when you were loud and unreserved. He continued his assault with his mouth, his tongue and teeth driving you wild. "Let it out, baby," he panted between breaths. "Don't hold back. I want to hear you." He could feel you clenching against his fingers, your body on the edge of ecstasy. He wanted to push you over the edge.

You grind yourself against his mouth and his fingers, whining out Atsumu’s name over and over again as he flicks his tongue across your clit and his fingers relentlessly plunge and curl in you. You gasp out curses, legs shaking as you keep your hand tangled in his hair – keeping him in place while your mind focused on the burning pleasure spreading through your body like fire – breaths coming out shallow and short. 

“Fuck, ‘Tsumu, I’m gonna cum.” You mewled, hips lifting off the mattress only to get harshly pushed down into place by him. Atsumu groaned against you, a warning for you to stay put. You were so fucking close, and he needed you in place. Eyes and head rolled back, and you finally found your release, going limp on the bed. 

His tongue took one last swipe up your folds, his fingers glistening with your slick as he pulled them out – and your eyes met him as he cleaned you off from his fingers, licking off the fluids as if he’d just finished a five-course meal. “Look at ya, already so fucked out,” he purred, already working his way back up your body with sloppy kisses across your skin, “and all I did was go down on ya.” He smirked against you, nipping at the skin of your neck, before his lips brushed against your ear, “still want to leave me? Still think that we’re a fucking disaster together? Or do I still have to fuck that thought out of your mind?” 

“Don’t be a dick.” You muttered your response, pushing past the urge to roll your eyes. Yes, you still thought you and Atsumu were a relative disaster together – and it didn’t matter how good he was with his tongue – that was a well-known fact. You two were obsessives disasters who got too quickly hooked on each other, uncaring to all the bad omens and red flags, running back to the other because that’s just what you do. 

And, for some sick reason, you fucking loved it. 

“Ya know, I don’t mean to upset you,” He hummed. Atsumu was always so fucking smug; you could hear the smirk in his voice. His arm snaked around your waist, lifting your hips as he ground his down against yours, his face burying itself in the crook of your neck. “Let me try and make it right; let me show ya how sorry I am.” Through the thin fabric of his briefs, you could feel how hard he was, the slight friction causing a sharp inhale. "Let me take good care of ya," he whispered against your skin.

Atsumu’s slow, tortuous grind against you was becoming unbearable, and all that seemed to cloud your mind was how badly you needed him—with his arm snaked around your waist, one hand with fingers digging into your hip, his quiet, short breaths on your neck. Your fingers laced themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. Atsumu groaned against your neck, the sound coming out a low, rough rumble. He could feel how you were holding onto him, desperate for him, rocking his hips again, grinding against you ever so slowly. He could feel the heat radiating off of you, the way you were pressing against him, trying to get more friction from him. 

He pulled away from your neck, his eyes flickering down to you. "Tell me what ya want, baby." Atsumu could see in your eyes what you wanted, but he needed to hear it from you. 

“I want you,” you breathed out, “I want you to make me feel good ‘Tsumu, I want all of you. Please.” 

A low growl rolled out of the back of his throat as he heard you plead for more– for all of him. His lips captured yours in a rough, deep kiss before pulling back just enough so that he could speak. "I'll give you all of me, baby. I'm gonna give you every single bit. I'm gonna make you feel so damn good." 

Atsumu didn’t hesitate, freeing himself from the constrictive fabric of his briefs before pushing your legs apart and placing them securely over his shoulders as he aligned himself to your entrance. He almost collapsed right there and then, letting out a harsh breath as he slid into you. He's going crazy, losing his mind at the way you suck him in. Gummy walls around his cock, warm and so tight that he could come right there and then. Atsumu’s mind was spinning; he was going feral over being in you. He pushed in slowly, pinning your wrists to the mattress, watching every expression cross your features. 

He slowly pulled out, his tip teasing your entrance before bottoming out in you, stealing your breath. That's all he needed, the feeling of having your grip around him. “Atta girl,” Atsumu breathed out. His grip on your wrists tightened as he began to increase his pace, fucking you deeper and harder, completely consumed in his primal need and desire.

He continued to move, his hips rocking against you with a new ferocity. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a rough, messy kiss as if he were trying to devour you. You moaned into his mouth as he hit that sweet spot, breaking the sloppy kiss as your head rolled back– it drove him crazy. “Yeah? You like that, don’t you?” Atsumu continued to move against you, harder and faster (if that was even possible), desperate to hear every unrestrained, loud noise you could make, desperate for his name to fall from your lips. 

There were so many things he could say. Like how fucking insatiable you looked writhing under him, with your legs over his shoulders– letting him reach the deepest part of you– looking so damn perfect, on display for him, hickeys and purple bruises littering your neck and chest. How you were all his to touch, taste, fuck. How he was the only one to see you like this, begging, pleading, saying his name like a prayer – how he was the only one to get you like this. 

Atsumu moved faster, his body pressed against yours, his hands gripping you tight. He could feel how close you were; he knew he could push you over the edge with just a few more well-placed thrusts. He continued to move, his thrusts growing ragged and desperate, his breath hot against your skin, his hands clutching onto you as if he were trying to cling to you. He groaned, his movements becoming more erratic, frantic. 

You can’t catch your breath; his pace was rough, intense, and concise. Your addictive noises pushed him to grab your wrists, pinning them over your head with one hand, his other gripped onto your thigh, steadying himself as he thrust himself into you, needing to see you crumble because of him again. "Fuck, I love ya, ya know that, right?" He panted out, his accent coming out stronger than ever. 

As a response, you could only let out a throaty moan. Hearing Atsumu breathless was lustful music to your ears, and if your vision was clouded – if your eyes weren’t shut from the fire of pleasure – you would see his mouth hanging open and his hazy half-lidded brown eyes so focused on you. But you could hear the throaty groan escaping his lips as you tightened around him. 

“‘Tsumu, I’m gonna–” your sentence getting cut off by a whine. 

He could feel you, on the edge, ready to fall over - and he was determined to take you there. "Cum with me, baby," he panted. Your release, the way your body shook, convulsed, arched beneath him as your breath caught in your throat – it sent him over the edge with you, crashing through any last shred of control he had. His breaths came out in ragged gasps; his body flushed against yours as he spilled into you with a strained moan. 

Atsumu released your wrists and gently moved your legs from his shoulders and onto the bed, his arms wrapping around you as he lifted your limp body, “let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?” 

You both knew there was no chance you’d walk out that door tomorrow morning, so the running in circles continues. 

[skinheadworkie]

This afternoon

[abnormalradical]

[wolfavens]

slow month - much work - but i did a grid for my journal anyways ☺️ museum night, brunches, quick trips to vienna & prague, also those crazy sun flares omg what the hell 😅

[truckguy84]

Tractor boys x

[tsumuhours]

ONE NIGHT PAIRING: suna rintarou x afab!reader (she/her pronouns) TAGS: smut + a little choking (but honestly ur just gonna have to read this ig) WORD COUNT: 2.4k

mature content !

There you are. 

Standing across the room, eyes locked with his, practically teasing him as you dance with the blonde whose hands are planted firmly on your hips and your head rested back on his shoulder. Your gaze saying a million desires and words all meant to be kept secrets between the walls. 

And all he sees is a glowing vixen that he cannot wait to tame. 

Placing his drink down at the bar, Suna leaves the girl chatting his ear off before making his way to you. The crowd parted in his way as if it sensed the dark presence of the brunette which stood among them. His casual strides narrowed gaze and resting smirk not faltering as Suna tapped on the blonde’s shoulder, “I think she’s bored, how about you let someone else entertain her?” He says, pushing the other out the way without another word. 

Suna’s touch lighting fires in your body, the intoxicating feeling instantly clouding your mind as your hand reaches up to the nape of his neck where your fingers begin to entangle themselves in his hair. His hands placed on your hips, pulling you closer to him, looking up into his stare. Even in the dimly lit light of the club, you can vividly see the piercing colour of his green eyes. They’re enticing, and magnetic, refusing to let you look away. 

You pull his face closer to you, the lingering scent of alcohol and aftershave filling your senses as you breathe him in. Lips ghosting over each other, glancing up at him, noticing the tainted tint in his pupils – one that screamed danger, and a glimpse of insanity – which you ignored for the pros seemed to heavily outweigh the cons. 

Closing the gap between you, a hand fists his button-up, showing him just how desperate you are for him. Suna tastes the fruity cherry kirsch on your tongue, the mix of red bull and vodka smeared in with your lipgloss that had begun to wipe away throughout the night. His ring laced hand reaches up to the roots of your hair, gripping tightly as he tilts your head back, deepening the lustful action, his tongue slipping into your mouth within seconds. 

The kiss, becoming a heated make-out, messy and rough. A hand reaching down to knead the plush flesh of your ass, Suna begins to break apart from your lips, trailing down your jaw to your neck before leaning in close to your ear. Hot breath on your skin, his touch tracing your jaw to your chin. 

“How about we go back to my place?” He says, moving to stand beside you with a hand placed on the small of your back. You turn your head, the corner of your lips turning up.

“I’d like that,” hooking a finger around the chain on his neck as you pull Suna away from the crowd and to the exit of the building. The simple action manages to drive him wild, almost animalistic, the urge of wanting to claim you as his quickly blurring his vision. You push open the door, exiting the stuffy club and out into the cool night street. 

Spinning around, you are gently pushed up against the brick wall behind you. Suna towering over, with a hand placed on either side, trapping you between him. The glowing of his eyes in the night resembles one of a predator looking down at their prey, ready to pounce and kill for their meal. “Are you so impatient that you can’t wait?” You tease, playing with the buttons on his shirt, slowly – yet surely – undoing the first couple in the process.

“What’s your name?” He asks, wanting to remember the name of the pretty girl who caught his eye at a dinghy club. If you’re going to be a good fuck, he wants to know who to look out for in the future. 

“[Y/N],” you respond. 

“Do you not have a last name?” Suna says, dipping his head down to be at a similar level to yours.

“I do.” You tell, “But, I would be a lot less… reluctant if I knew who you are too. This goes both ways babe.” 

“Rintarou Suna.” He says, his voice deep and sending a shiver to run down your spine, the world around you going black as a red light shines over his back. “And now, I’m going to ask again, what’s your name?” 

You didn’t understand why it was so important for him to get your name and surname, but one thing you were sure of was that you were not going to ask. “[Y/N] [L/N],” you answer. “Do you want my entire life story too Rintarou?” Teasing him, your fingers reaching up to brush at his fringe. “Or can we go back to your place instead?” 

Suna, amused by how direct you are, and how particularly eager you are too, brushes it off. Smirking, as he backs away, holding out a hand for you to take so he can lead you back to his apartment. Smiling, you accept the gesture, getting pulled to Suna’s side as he leads you down the street to his home. 

By the time the two of you had arrived at Suna’s apartment, he wasted no time. Slamming you against the closed door, his lips crashing against yours. Your fingers work to undo all the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric down his shoulders where he throws the piece of fabric off his body then discarding it across the room. Suna, tears off your dress, essentially ripping the item of clothing in half and letting it fall to the floor. 

Pulling your bottom lip between his teeth before lowering his head and slowly falling to his knees as he travels down your body. Nipping at the skin at your collarbone before moving down to your chest, looking up through half-lidded up, chilling – and taunting – eyes staring at you. “No bra? Who are you trying to impress?” He hums. 

“Who says I dress to impress someone else?” You question, tugging at his hair to keep his stare on you. “Besides, I wanted to look good, and a bra would have ruined my outfit.” You explain, “Not to mention, they’re incredibly uncomfortable. Understood?” 

“Aren’t you feisty?” Suna says, “How about you I put you into your place?” 

“You can try,” you hum, tilting his chin up, “even so… I’ll always be in control. Whether you believe it or not.” You have a way of… getting what you want. Manipulation? Not exactly, but it is deception. Then again, Suna wasn’t being entirely honest either. “Show me what you got, pretty boy.” 

“Anything for you,” he muses. Kisses gave down the crevice of your breasts, hands kneading the flesh of your chest. Teeth gently pinching the skin, tongue pressing flat against the bud of your nipple. Suna travels down your body, leaving purple bruises to form in the place where his lips used to be. 

The brunette tugs the thin fabric down your legs, hoisting you up, hands firmly placed on your thighs as he wraps your legs around his shoulders. Suna's tongue attaches itself to your clit, slowly building pressure onto the sensitive bud, repeating his slow yet intense movements of his tongue. His amused hums send vibrations through your body, rhythm picking up and tongue lapping against your cunt. 

Suna draws patterns and lips curling around your clit, causing your hips to buck forward and a hand to shoot to his hair as another does its best attempt to grip onto the flat surface of the wooden door behind you. 

Pushing his head closer against you, increasing the side of pleasure as you continue to grind your hips to the skilled movement of Suna’s tongue. Breathing becomes staggered, chest rising and falling. Mouth hanging open, eyes clenched shut, toes curling, and legs hugging onto his body. “Just like that,” you gasp, whimpers escaping from your mouth while you succumb to the rush of euphoria and pleasure that races through your body. 

Mind going completely blank when his fingers come in contact with your cunt, a moan sounding from your throat. Suna glances up, basking in the wonderfully sinful sight behold him, snapping a million mental pictures. With his free hand, he clenches the plush of your thigh when your nails dig into the skin of his shoulder. 

Body flinching forward, legs going stiff, and senses overflowing with an insatiable amount of pleasure. “Oh– don’t stop Rin, you’re doing so good.” Panting, a more vocal moan echoing throughout the apartment, “Keep going, I’m so close.”

Suna complies, not stopping. He’s fuelled by the angelic sounds of your whimpers and moans, and he’s doing everything he can to hear the music to his ears of hearing you reach a release. Ignoring the mess on his lips, Suna picks up his pace, listening to the staggering and whiny responses of overwhelming pleasure which he provides you. Chasing the release, your back lifts off the door, eyes rolling, and your head is thrown back. 

Pleased, Suna drags his tongue up your folds one last time before trailing his lips down your thighs, leaving a mark or two. In seconds, he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his torso as he rushes to the bedroom. Throwing you onto the bed, crawling on top of you, where your hands meet his belt, undoing the band and the button of his jeans. 

Suna then kicks off his jeans, feeling your hand palm him through his briefs. His fingers wrap around your wrist, wide eyes looking up at him with the appearance of faux innocence, only driving him mad. “You’re needy aren’t you?” The brunette teases, “Are you that desperate Princess?” 

Unimpressed, you pull down the hem of his boxers, hand lightly grazing over his hard. Leaning in close, lips brushing over his, rolling your wrist, “You aren’t any better Rin.” You push him down onto the bed, crawling over him, knees planted on either side of his legs. 

Pumping his cock, before aligning him with your cunt. Keeping your palm pressed flat against his chest as you lower yourself, satisfied at the electrifying way Suna’s face scrunched up upon feeling your walls around him. 

Holding tight onto your sides as you start to bounce, his cock hitting deep, reaching your cervix. Filling you up by your control, rolling your hips, knowing how to find all the right places that work for you and driving Suna wild. He, surprisingly, was perfectly vocal. So whiny and loud, which you loved – it was an insatiable feeling that drove you over the edge. His eyes clenched shut, head rolling back into the pillows, and hips rising off the mattress. 

However, as fun as this was. This was not how he planned for his night to go. Snapping out of his daze, the intense fire and longing for control arising, Suna flips the two of you over. Hovering over you, face centimetres from yours. “Open wide Princess.” He instructs thumb pushing past your lips and pressing down on your tongue, “Good girl. Now Stay like that for a few, alright?”

Mouth agape, a string of saliva falls from his tongue and onto yours – a hand wrapping itself around your neck with narrowed eyes that crave power. Suna connects your lips in a lewd embrace, his hips colliding with yours in a forceful thrust. Eyebrows scrunching, nails digging into his back and a strangled moan coming in response. 

“Look at you,” he pants, infatuated with how your tits bounce with every thrust. How dumb you look, eyes rolled far back into your head, back arched, and how even in this weak state you’re gripping onto the headboard which bangs against the wall. “I’m fucking you dumb,” humourlessly laughing, “I bet no one else can ever make you feel this good.”

He feels it coming, that insufferable itching at the back of his mind. That intense sense of possessiveness, and all the thoughts of seeing you with other people. Images of them fucking you, your pretty moans that won’t be for him making him angry. He can’t stand it.

“No one will ever fuck you as good as I can,” he growls. Pushing your legs to your chest, allowing him more access to fuck you deep, obsessed with how his dick looks slipping in and out of your cunt. “Tell me [Y/N], have you ever been fucked this good before?” He questions, noticing the tear that slips past your shut eyes from the overpowering pleasure you feel. “Answer me.” 

“No,” you whine out. “You’re the best,” 

“Yeah?” He says, “You’re just a little slut at the end of the day. Need a good fuck? I bet that blonde at the club couldn’t fuck you like this,” Suna continues, “no one can ever treat you like I can.” He buries himself in your chest, sucking on your tit, “You’re such a good girl for me, Princess,” Suna voices between breathless grunts and curses. “Taking my dick so well, God, you feel so good.” He praises, “If I knew you’d be such a perfect fuck, I would have taken you right then and there at the club.” 

You moan in response, his words were enough to send you over the edge to pure ecstasy. Suna pounds into you with relentless speed, under him falling apart, becoming nothing more than a limp body that had been taken over by stimulation and force. The growing pit in your loins growing incredibly, back arching off the bed, as you grip on for dear life. Dark vision growing blurry, mind clouding – blocking any thought or action, temporarily blocking your senses as you started to reach your peak.

“Oh, you like this?” Suna says, “You like the idea of me fucking you in front of a crowd of people? Want to put on a show for everyone to see?” Movements and thrusts grow more erratic with every passing second. “Maybe next time I should make a little film, show the whole world what a desperate slut you truly are.” 

Your mind has little time to process the words he spoke before his hips slams into you. Body filled with pleasure as your orgasm rode out. Suna, pulls out, grabbing you by the nape of your neck as he pumps himself. A thumb opening your mouth before placing his cock in its place, releasing it onto your tongue. The white liquid spreads across your plump lips, collecting it with his thumb and shoving into your mouth. 

“Swallow [Y/N],” the brunette instructs. Smiling when you listen, swallowing his seed. “Open,” he says, wanting to see, satisfied knowing you listened. “Oh, I like you – I think I might just keep you around.” Laying down next to you, burying himself into your chest, falling tired and relaxed as your hands stroke his hair. 

[skinheadworkie]

a wet orange day

[muddyoveralls90]