I swear she CARRIES these mini animations, the merch team is so stupid
Hearing her go into detail on the kind of work she has to do behind the scenes was fun lol I'm just picturing her calling Narita airport management after the No. 12 fight like
"Please understand that Vice Captain Hoshina's act of falling leaping from the JAKDF designated helicopter to create a large crater along your main runway was integral to the operation."
Most importantly, it was great hearing Hoshina thank Okonogi in such a defeated tone...... ufufufu........
bakugo doesn't need big to keep going — ( requested ) smut, small bust!reader
You were straddling him on the couch, your shirt bunched up under your arms and your breath coming fast. Bakugo’s palms were hot and rough against your ribs, thumbs brushing right under your breasts like he was deliberately avoiding them.
“Tch—” he smirked, eyes locked on your flushed face. “Cute little things, huh? Thought you were gonna be shy about ‘em, but—” he squeezed your sides, yanking you down so your chests pressed together, “—I fuckin’ love having ‘em all to myself.”
You whimpered when he mouthed at the top of one, not sucking, just letting his hot breath fan over your nipple until it pebbled against the cool air. “Katsuki—”
“Yeah?” He finally closed his mouth around it, sucking just hard enough to make you arch. “Don’t need big tits to get me goin’, dumbass… you’re already drippin’ all over me.” His hand slid between your thighs, fingers curling up under your skirt, finding the soaked fabric of your panties. “Shit—” he growled, rubbing slow circles over your clit, “—you’re soaked. Just from me talkin’ about your tits? You’re fuckin’ unreal.”
He sucked harsher now, tongue flicking against your nipple before he bit gently, just to hear you gasp. His free hand dug into your ass, rocking you against his thigh until you were grinding shamelessly.
“Katsuki—fuck—”
“C’mon, baby,” he rasped against your chest, eyes flicking up to meet yours while his fingers pushed your panties aside, “—let me fuck you while I keep these perfect little things in my mouth. Wanna hear you lose your fuckin’ mind over me.”
And when he slammed you down onto his lap, his teeth and tongue on you, his fingers spreading you wide—your voice broke exactly the way he wanted.
i’ve never put in a request before but i read literally all of your haikyuu stuff and i was wondering if you could do something like your asahi x feral!reader but for tsukishima? or even just more asahi or tsukishima stuff would also be cool
tsukki using toys on feral!reader
i love you. here's your present pookie <3
warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI
details. fem!reader / rough sex / switchy, mostly dominant!tsukki / mutual masturbation / exhibitionism / voyeurism / use of vibrator / use of dildo / mutual crushing / dirty talk / tsukki loves to tease / flirty!tsukki / friend sex / mostly clothed sex / light choking / 3.3k words
links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3
Even the way he slid his tie off made you want to drop to your knees and beg him to fuck.
Tsukishima was an alright buddy, but you knew he'd make a much better lover. Maybe it was your delusion, built-up by years of crushing on your closest friend, but there was something about being a mean guy's favorite got you going.
More specifically: soaked, swimming in your raunchy imagination, even investing in some toys to help with the fantasy of it all, most nights.
He had no clue. You were always careful not to look at him more than you had to, to never speak to him too often. It was only thanks to being in the same class that he came over to study, and you got the chance to callous your crush-masking and Calculus III at the same unfortunate time. So fun.
"You study at all yet?" He stretched with a yawn, sore and tired from practice.
"A little," You were usually curt with him when it was just you two.
Today, Yamaguchi opted to work on his serves after practice with his mentor, instead of studying with you two. You nearly cancelled this, but you needed to go over a few concepts with somebody before the quiz tomorrow morning.
Yamaguchi was the best person to bounce off of, so the three of you had better, friendlier chemistry than just you and Tsukishima. You didn't have to fake it as much.
You set your laptop up on your desk and stood, bent at the hips to open up your class materials and take some books out of your bag.
"I didn't have time today," A weight was on the side of your hip, making you stifle a flinch. It was only the side of his leg, from the way he leaned back onto your desk right next to you, "I had to practice at lunch, too."
Another yawn.
They had been busier, lately. Both of them couldn't meet as regularly because they had extra, informal practices.
"Big match coming up?" You clicked to the website and took the soonest opportunity to get away.
You sat down in your chair and kept your eyes on the monitor. You couldn't handle his proximity. You were already wet just from the ride over, having to sit thigh-to-thigh with him on the train. It would be impossible to focus if he kept this shit up.
"Kinda."
The conversation died there. Neither of you tried too hard to keep any discussion alive without Yamaguchi.
He started getting his materials together and paused, then took another few minutes to root around. He glanced around your desk and didn't find what he was looking for.
"You got a pen I could borrow?"
You half-hummed, in the middle of copying down an equation from the screen to your paper.
"Uhh- yeah, yeah. Bedside table. Should be next to the uhhh, the lamp."
Tsukishima watched you for a moment longer, suspicious, but stretched again and pushed himself up to find the pen. To his delight, that was not what he found, when he tried looking through the drawers instead of limiting his search to the surface.
A quick glance back to you- still focused on anything but him, to a level he had grown to understand as simply overcompensation, and he knew he was clear to let his curiosity roam.
"Interesting."
"Wha'?" You mumbled, lazy against your knuckles, a dry, slow blink at your monitor filled with equations.
Long, slim fingers danced over the pink, silicone dildo in the back of your drawer. His grin grew to serious proportions when he found its smaller, surely nosier friend. He could have guessed you were a little freak, but loved this confirmation.
In your attempt to give your retinas a break, you found a spare pen behind one of your notebooks.
"Oh-, hey, I found it," You sighed.
You turned in your swivel chair to face him and see what the delay was about. A flash of pink in his hand made your blood run cold.
"Tsukki!"
You almost tripped scrambling out of your chair, the sound of your call a short and wheezy one, so he had plenty of warning before you were upon him, plastered to his front just like he wanted.
"Put that down!"
His hand flew high into the air, at a height you could never hope to reach- it angered you so quickly, and you felt your face getting hot. That tall bastard utilized his abnormal wingspan at the worst of times.
Frantic fingers clawed his sweater down, but there was no chance you could pull his entire arm down far enough.
From here, you realized he was also holding your smaller vibrator in the same hand. That just wasn't possible without freakishly large proportions.
You screamed, "You're such a fucking weirdo! Put it back!!"
Tsukishima pouted at you, making you think you might have gotten through to him, but like most of his expressions, it was sarcastic.
"Ooooh... I'm the weirdo?"
That one, especially coupled with the eye roll, pissed you off. It wasn't your fault that he was incapable of sexual attraction. You were over-active, sure, and maybe you rivalled the sex drive of a man, but that was your personal business. Up until now, it was stored safe and secret.
"Fuck you!"
You shoved him. And he actually fell back. He wasn't very heavy.
When he hit your mattress, it was a race to recapture your toys that had gotten knocked out of his hand before you could get to them.
You scrapped to get on top of him, weigh him down, and dodged his elbow to reach his wrist-- it was too late. He gripped the thing and you could only then try to pry his hand open.
"Ah-ah-ah," His smirk was so mean, how he found you, in the midst of all your panic, as cute as a button, "What's the magic word?"
"You're never coming over again, you dick," You muttered, fuming, when his fingers just wouldn't be opened.
Tsukishima didn't do much to keep his hand away from you. You held his forearm against your chest because you the most leverage there.
His unrestricted laugh was pretty; scratchy and elevated, watching you try and try again to take your belongings back from him.
Fatigue was getting in the way of your efforts. When he pulled his hand back, over his head, you got knocked off balance and caught yourself, looking down at him.
It distracted you for a moment.
There was something in his eyes you hadn't noticed before, in all your attempts to retrieve your precious toys.
"A little small..." He furrowed his brow, a purse on his lips as he angled it in the light behind you, "Don't you think?"
The hand against your other side made you pause. His thumb, starting to rub you through your uniform, made you shudder.
Why was everything so slow, all of a sudden? You could hear your elevated heart rate, acutely aware of how heavy your breathing had gotten. Tsukishima seemed as though he had always been here, in this state, because he looked you over at a glacial pace.
"Oh- god," You shivered at the realization you were sitting on him, in your skirt.
What had been such a sure reality of never getting off to him again, all at once, became the very reason to do so.
When you looked like you were gearing up to move off of him, smaller, and meeker in spirit, he spoke up through your habitual doubts.
"Stay-," His hand was firm now, gently pushing your weight onto himself, "Stay here."
Hearing something genuine come out of Tsukishima's mouth was so rare that you thought he was joking. You kept trying to rise off of him.
"Hey," He chuckled, but his smile was fleeting.
He set your toys down and used both hands to weigh you down by your thighs. Your uncomfortable expression was mostly confusion.
"Why would I do that?"
You were torn between wanting to take your stuff back and get far away, and the animalistic urge to stay and entertain whatever this was.
His scoff, the roll of his eyes, made your thighs flex, like it always did. This time, he could feel it. But it was confirmation he didn't need, at this point.
"Don't act like you're not into me."
The heaviness of being caught made you sink. It didn't appeal to you to find out why he knew. He was intelligent, after all, and made it his job to notice small things.
Now that it was out in the open, you had no need to lie. A lot less to worry about, too.
Tsukishima smirked at your tiny, defeated sigh.
You glanced to the toys, free for you to take and hide again, but found no desire to do so. You took a good, thorough feel of that soft sweater under your hands. It turned into pushing up under his shirt, and adjusting closer down, open for a kiss, if he felt so inclined.
He sucked in a breath through his nose, restraining himself only once, at that little, dirty roll you did against his cock.
A slow, unsure kiss was soon a rushed and racy battle for power.
Any drop of validation you gave him, whether in sound or feel, was drowned in a charged kind of yearning for more; More of that noise, more of your mouth, more of your body under his starving grasp.
His fingers spread over the plush of your ass, quickly between you and your underwear, spreading you from the back with so much vigor that you whined at all the intensity.
"Mm- yeahh, I know you like that shit," He nestled his kisses against the side of your face, rough and smiley.
You gasped, sharp, at his words and his nails digging lines into your skin.
"Oh my god," You moaned, eyes shutting at how his attention seemed to wrack through you like some sick wave.
In your sudden inability to kiss him back, he ripped open your uniform blouse and sucked hasty bites into your chest.
Finally. He made you feel like you could take anything.
When he sat up, you came with him, and rejoiced in the way he shoved you onto your back, all out of breath and turned on, hovering over you like you were his. That proud expression on your face deserved a few more kisses, he decided.
They were still so rough and challenging to keep up with- especially when you felt him sliding your panties off.
"M-mn," You chased after his lips for a second, not wanting him to pull away so quick.
"I want you to use this," He muttered, and handed you your vibrator- he was keeping it in his pocket, so it didn't get lost in the sheets (as it often liked to).
The sound of that was enough to make you giggle, instantly compliant. But it made you curious.
"Well- what will you do?"
Tentative, you held it without moving- but his hands guided it right where it needed to be. He smirked at your gasps, your thighs flexing hard against him.
"I'll watch," His voice was proceeded by the clang of his belt, zipping out of his belt loops and clattering onto the floor.
Your drunken eyes widened at the monster he pulled out. Yeah, it did make your dildo look small. But it looked natural in his big hand, starting to stroke himself at the view of you, under him.
There was no chance to be coy- he was doing the same thing, even the one to suggest it all. You gave a dreamy sigh, content at the chance to be his cam girl.
His head tilted, eyes lowered to watch your pussy, getting juicier by the minute- so he was a sick son of a bitch, too.
Ever the one to tease, he muttered, "How often d'you think about me?"
That made you warm. You didn't want to say it right away, because even you knew it was getting to be an addiction. It was hard not working one out every night when he was making you horny any time you spoke in class.
"Every day..." You mumbled, eyes still locked on the way he stroked himself, curious to try it for yourself.
He was busy imagining how often you had probably both been masturbating at the same time, with no idea. His hands pushed your thighs up- a nasty, preoccupied gaze on just the way it puffed up your pussy. God, he needed to feel you from the inside.
"Me, too," He admitted. Though it was a dirty thing to say, he said it so flat, in his own little way, as he searched for that dildo. He left out the fact that he jerked off multiple times a day.
"You wanna get that wet for me?"
You hummed, sweet and cute, at the opportunity in front of your face.
Getting it nice and slick in your mouth was just a way to torture him a little more, let him in on what he had been missing- you sucked the thing off a little longer than necessary.
His jaw flexed at the sight, his eyes narrow, intense, just how you liked them.
You grinned as he took it back and cleaned the string of spit from your lip. He sucked it off of his finger like cotton candy.
Tsukishima took the liberty of filling you up with it- watching every little twitch and savoring every whine with so much concentration.
The look of it had him pumping himself a little faster, a little dumb at the sight of you stuffed, already, and dripping onto your sheets. You had been getting off to him every night, then treating him like the dirt under your shoe, for three years?
"I would've been fuckin' you so good- mmnh- freshman year, if you had just been honest with me."
His words made you lose your breath, gasping at the thought of how much you could've helped yourself out, if only things had been different. But, that fixation on his face, all the anticipation leading up to now; you wouldn't have traded it for the world.
You bit your lip at how slow and patient he was, stretching you out all for himself.
"D'you want me to cum?" You asked, tone purposefully candied for him.
There was no hesitation. He looked a little staggered. It was adorable, how badly he wanted to see it happen.
"Fuck, yes."
It took you more effort to hold out, talk, and edge, than it did to give him a show.
You just fell into what you usually did when you got home from classes- this time, with little sounds falling from your lips, and your thighs up the way he liked so much.
The way his eyes clouded over, how he started to relax in the shoulders, and grew breathier at your performance stroked your ego on a deeper level.
"Ah-h!"
His breath stalled at the sudden tension, the gasp on your lips. He was watching you, completely captivated, at your rigid brow and crescendoing sounds.
"Mnn-H-Aahh!" You wished he would touch you, so bad, but it didn't happen. He was too busy studying you.
"Damn," He sighed.
He was taken by the way you came completely undone for him- it made his face soften, made him want to kiss you through it, but he loved watching from right here. It was unbelievably hot.
Though he pulled out that pink obstruction to his real plan, he didn't let you move your vibrator away. He grinned at your reaction, as you were still coming down.
You squirmed at the discomfort, a little panic in your eyes, all to find him enjoying it more.
"A-ahh-! Tsukki--,"
"Ohh- sorry, you thought you were getting a break?" His voice was so sweet, so amused.
He lined himself up with you, sure to lube up in all that extra slickness. It was so deranged and bold that it made you relax, watching in quiet, but whiny captivation, despite needing more time.
"Fuuck," He sighed, a huffy laugh on his lips at how perfect you took him, "God- mmnh-!"
It shouldn't have surprised you, but he wasn't slow, and he wasn't gentle. You supposed you weren't, either. You were both one in the same, too excited and caught up in the rare chance to let loose with a likeminded pervert.
The intensity in his twitchy brow gave way to a narrowed focus on your face.
"Feels so good, (Y/n)."
"Mmnh- call me anything but my- na-me," You sighed, a clip at the end of your phrase as he started using you like his own toy, fast.
He stretched you so good- nothing like your pitiful replacement for him. You couldn't believe he was packing so much, for such a skinny guy.
Though you half-expected him to keep using your name as a means to tease you; he smirked, instead.
"You can- ahh, be my dirty little slut, then-,"
You did say 'anything.' And, to your pleasant surprise, you didn't hate that as much as you thought you would. You still laughed at him, though, because he deserved it. He grinned, unable to take it too seriously, too.
Your recovery period was laughably short. The newness of his cock, the hungry look in his mean face over you, his attitude completely transformed by your body, had you short of breath all over again, wanting more, taking him better with less discomfort.
You welcomed his intensity. This time, all of it, finally wasn't fabricated in your head.
It began to spiral, tightening like a spring in your tummy, into the fundamental need to be railed to another orgasm.
"Harder- please," Your begging couldn't go unrewarded.
It was like he was waiting for confirmation to fuck you as hard as he wanted-- his hand naturally squeezed around your throat, a struggle playing out in his eyes, now, at the way you gripped his arm to keep it there.
He got raspy, breathy, sweat rolling down the side of his face.
Your volume was intense- elation and indulgence all at your liberty, since you were the only people home. Your family trusted Tsukishima, and you were only just now learning that they probably shouldn't.
"F-uck!"
The pretty shock taking your face, coupled with the spasm of your cunt as you actually came twice was all too much for a guy as nasty as him.
That shit was too raw- your gasps, wavering cries, too good for his filthy mind. He was gonna throw all of his porn away as soon as he got home. Next time he needed to cum, he'd take the train here.
He pulled out and absolutely ruined that cute uniform. You were twitchy, panting at all the overstimulation, drenched in sweat, and unable to care right now. He pried his own fingers, slowly, from your neck and lowered to kiss you. It was slower, now, as you both caught your breath.
Coming down with somebody wasn't nearly as sobering as coming down by yourself.
His forehead was slippery against yours, "I'll pay for- ah, your uniform, if I need to."
It was a sweet gesture. You pressed a kiss against his cheek with a laugh, "Just throw it all in the washer."
"Hm," He smirked, an idea taking form behind his eyes as you were carefully stripped of your clothes.
satoru knows you hear him when he cums. you know he does.
you’d been as good about it as you could be. it’s not as though he did it day in day out, just occasionally during the week.
you’d have your headphones in, volume low to pretend that you’re immersed in one of your shows. acting like you don’t already have the sound of his moans memorized like a symphony, like you can’t hear him getting himself off. trying your very hardest to just ignore him as best as you can.
usually, at least.
sometimes it gets to be too much. your soft bottom lip ends up held taut between your teeth, weak enough to let a hand slide down the front of your shorts to ease to growing ache building in your abdomen.
pretending that it isn’t your roommate’s moans alone working you up. hoping you’d time his orgasm just right so you’d finish with him.
hell, maybe you’re just as bad as satoru is, just not as loud.
he’s always ridiculously shameless about it too—deep groans, breathless curses, the wet drag of his fist as he strokes his cock. little praises like there’s someone else’s there.
“you’re so wet,” you’d once heard him murmur, voice edging off into a toe curling moan, “feels so good, baby…”
it’s like he wants you to hear him.
which you do. every. single. fucking time without fail.
once is mistake, twice is a coincidence? but 3 times? and the various instance after those?
pattern, sheer pattern. he has to know. if the knowing glint in his pale eyes when morning came meant anything, his chirpy little ‘sleep well, roomie?’ that has the tips of your ears heating because no, obviously fucking not! grade a asshole, that’s what he is. it’s already a struggle to fight the building attraction–he’s annoying as hell but a sweetheart of a friend. lends you his stuff when yours break, makes you breakfast here and there, always helping you...among other things.
but now you know exactly how he sounds when he finishes, how whiny he gets, and it just makes that fickle restraint falter even more.
aside from the whole ‘noisy jerker’ thing…he isn’t bad at all. you’d gotten lucky in the roommate lottery, you suppose. at least he handles his shit with the door closed (the singular saving grace).
tonight’s different though. you’d stepped out for a quarter of an hour at best to run to the convenience store—he’d been to one to offer up his card to restock the snacks you like in the communal cupboard, letting you go with a simple ‘get the good stuff, yeah?’
he’d been given a clear time frame so there’s 0 good reason why his door is cracked when you get back in, fucking up into his fist with gentle strokes and no urgency at all.
"fuck…just like that.”
you halt midstep, frozen—card in your hold and heart beating all the way up into your throat.
the sight is much more than you’d expected. he’s so fucking pretty.
sweats pushed low and bunched on his thighs, chest bared for the world to see. lashes settled against the paleness of his cheek, snowy strands mussed with a few sticking to his forehead. and then your eyes drop lower. to trimmed hairs that do match the drapes that lead to a lovely, pink, lengthy—
maybe…maybe you’d just wait till he finished. resign to your room for a little, keeping the card with you. he wouldn’t mind. you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t even be looking.
he’s jerking off and you’re just stood there. gosh, you feel like a bigger perv than he is. getting off to the sound of him is bad enough, now this?
“are you just gonna stand there?” it’s a little lazy sounding, a syrupy drag tinged with amusement. like this is normal, everyday conversation that you two have. the card slackens in your hold and your breathing ceases momentarily, mouth parting to get out an excuse, a ramble of apologies perhaps.
“you’re—oh fuck,” and he doesn’t even stop, eyes closed, head tipped to the ceiling now. as he squeezes at the head of his cock to ebb his pleasure. pearly cream smears near the pretty bulb with a light stroke, thumb stroking over a vein at the side. “fine. you’re fine! come in, ’m not busy.”
you do, you’re not sure why you do. maybe it’s your body working quicker than your mind is, one saying yes, other saying no type thing. betrayal of every good instinct you have. limbs moving before you can process his request properly. he grins like he’d known you’d do just that, floorboards giving you away.
you try not to look, you really do but it’s right there. rigid girth held in a light grip, flushed head all soft and rosy. veins pulsing proudly under flushed, shiny flesh. a cock you’ve tried (you really have) to not imagine too often. glistening with what looks like either lube or saliva (maybe both). heavy looking in his hand, the kind of pretty that causes a near physical ache in your chest and somewhere lower, dampness between your thighs only building.
“you’re gonna cum to it anyway,” he murmurs, “might as well get you in here to let you see the real thing.” your eyes follow another pearlescent dribble from his head, eyes growing glossy, willing the dampness pooling between your thighs away. you’re stood there like a deer in headlights, his words registering late and you’re all hot in the face as you glance up at him, stumbling over words about needing to give him his card. “huh? I don’t even…satoru, I promise you it’s not like that at all.”
“it’s not?” and then he laughs, all deep and rich, not at all helping with your situation currently.
“you just happen to touch yourself exactly when i’m getting myself off? the walls are thin, pretty. I don’t think the pillows muffle the vibrations too well.” you wonder if there’s a quick way to dig a hole to just jump into. maybe if you fake a fainting spell, he’d drop it and you could escape? shitty fucking amazon vibrator – those reviews were all lies.
you make a strangled noise in your throat, half startled, half mortified. trying to get a word out but your lips won’t cooperate.
satoru’s eyes open, all slow and heavy like he’s already drunk on the pleasure. fuck, he loves this. loves the look on your face – all stunned, no words to say to explain yourself. “you’re not coming?” and god, he says it so breathily, you can’t help the instinctual clench of your thighs, nor the bob of your throat with a harsh swallow.
“a little watching got you all wet?” he’d noticed. of course he had. “why don’t we help each other out, hm? take your panties off? let me see how wet I got you.”
that gives you a pause, panties in question uncomfortably damp. hot in the face with..embarrassment? arousal? most definitely arousal. maybe that more than the former. your hands are shaky as they graze the soft edges of your shorts, hooking under the cottony band of your panties.
you don’t know why you’re just listening to him. walking out and pretending this didn’t happen would be just as easy as walking in had been. but you don’t – you’ve been wanting to at least touch him for ages, lying to yourself wouldn’t do either of you any favors.
the plain pale gray, turned smoky and the center falls to the floor in a heap with your shorts, pressing the card onto the closest surface with a gentle movement. his gaze drops and he groans at the clear glisten between your thighs, thumb swiping over his tip, hips twitching slightly as he slows his strokes.
“perfect. now c’mere,” he says again, softer this time. voice something warm and inviting.
you take a step, then a few more till you’re at the edge of the bed. his legs spread a little wider, chin angling down in a simple gesture. his strokes somehow get slower, lazier. teasing now, dragging out every wet sound, every twist of his wrist that has dribbles of his pre spilling over his knuckles. you sink down to your knees so you’re settled between his thighs, fingertips biting into the hardwood.
“there you are.” he croons, bringing his free hand back from gripping the sheets to brush stray hairs out your face, tipping your chin up.
“say ahh, roomie.”
๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑ a/n: ty for reading ⭑.ᐟ minor revamp of an archived piece lol
๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑ temp mlist: #sena's script ⏾ for all works ⭑.ᐟ
I would like to request a teasing Suna who, despite wanting to fuck his partner into the mattress, takes his time practically making her beg for him to do it. Also I love your work your write so beautifully 😫😫
earn it
teasing suna was your favorite game—until it always backfired, leaving you breathless and on the edge as he made sure you earned your release.
haikyuu masterlist.
leave a little stardust on my ko-fi
author's note: this is not proofread yet but i was too excited to post it!!
the gala was buzzing.
the hotel ballroom venue glittered with soft fairy lights, the air filled with polite laughter, clinking glassware, and classical strings humming faintly over speakers. everyone looked immaculate—the team captains, jva board members, a sprawl of sponsors and national-level athletes dressed in tailored suits and gleaming formal wear. the scent of cologne and high-end perfume lingered like static.
you were tucked beside your boyfriend, suna rintarou, middle blocker of japan’s national team, your fingers idly playing with the stem of your champagne flute as you listened to conversations you couldn’t care less about.
you were here with him. but your real attention was on the hand resting casually on your thigh beneath the table.
because while suna looked every bit composed and disinterested—legs spread in his seat, jacket draped over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up to his forearms like he hadn’t just come from a red-carpet-worthy photo op—you were up to no good.
and he knew it.
especially when your heel slid along his shin, inching higher with every pass.
suna's grip on your thigh tightened at your actions. he turned his head slightly, eyes still sharp and unreadable, and leaned in close—his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered,
"you really want to start something here, kitten?"
his voice was low. smooth. dangerous in that lazy way of his—the kind that made your thighs press together without thinking. but with his hand already there, he felt it. he always felt it.
you smiled, barely turning your head as you murmured back,
"i already did."
suna gave you a confused look, a quick flicker of furrowed brows and a glance laced with suspicion, like he wasn’t sure he heard you right.
you didn’t explain.
instead, you smiled—slow and sweet—and lifted your champagne flute to your lips. took a slow sip, tilted your head just slightly, and winked at him over the rim of the glass before settling back in your seat like you weren’t being a complete menace in the middle of a formal event.
you didn’t even break eye contact.
your foot continued its slow path up his leg, the toe of your heel brushing the sharp line of his calf, then gliding up toward his thigh with practiced ease. your movements were graceful, controlled. to anyone else, you were just the doting girlfriend enjoying a classy evening next to your national team boyfriend. nothing more.
but suna knew better.
he looked at you again—longer this time—and shifted in his seat just slightly, the muscle in his jaw tightening as your foot crept higher. his fingers were still resting on your thigh, warm through the fabric of your dress. and now, slowly, they inched up.
"what did you just say?" he muttered under his breath, low enough that no one else at the table would catch it.
you leaned in, pretending to look interested in the centerpiece, and whispered close to his ear.
"i said… i’m not wearing any panties."
you heard the breath he didn’t take.
his fingers on your thigh stopped. went still.
then you felt them slide higher, slipping under the slit of your gown like they belonged there. like he didn’t care who was around. when his knuckles brushed bare skin, you felt his entire body shift next to you, just the subtlest movement—but to you, it was thunderous.
"no fucking way," he muttered, turning slightly to glance at your face, scanning it for a lie.
you smiled again, smug and patient, the way you always were when you wanted to push him just far enough.
"mmhm. just for you."
you felt his fingers curl lightly against your inner thigh.
"jesus," he breathed out, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. only heat. only tension strung too tight across his spine.
you picked up your wine glass again, fingers delicate on the stem, and added quietly, "figured you deserved a little something after this long season. thought you’d enjoy the view."
suna turned fully toward you now, his body angled just enough to shield what his hand was doing beneath the table. his expression was unreadable—flat and sharp and simmering.
"you think you’re clever, huh?"
you shrugged. "i think i’m wet."
his nostrils flared. his gaze dipped.
and then he slid his fingers between your thighs—parting them just enough—and found out for himself. two slow passes through your folds, and you were already so slick, he barely needed to try.
you sucked in a soft breath and tried not to flinch. not here. not in front of the team, the sponsors, the federation members.
but he felt the way your thighs trembled.
"fuck," he whispered, voice caught somewhere between warning and arousal. "you’re dripping."
"you’re the one touching me under the table," you mumbled, eyes fluttering slightly as your lashes dipped. "don’t act surprised."
his fingers found your clit and circled it once—firm, direct, and devastatingly slow.
you jolted.
then he dipped one finger inside you, knuckle-deep.
your hand clenched around your napkin on your lap. you looked up at the table, pretending to listen to hinata talk about a training match—eyes wide, lips parted—but your entire body was focused on the way suna was curling his finger inside you, the pad brushing just right against that spot that made your stomach flutter.
"you better stay quiet," he warned. "make a sound, and i’ll stop. and you won’t get a fucking thing from me when we get upstairs."
you swallowed hard. nodded quickly.
he continued. another curl, another slow pull out, before pressing in again—this time with his thumb stroking lightly over your clit, subtle enough not to be seen, intense enough to make your whole body ache for more.
you bit your lip. hard.
his eyes flicked down to watch your thighs twitch, then back up to your face.
"look at you," he whispered. "trying so hard to behave. not so smug now, huh?"
you couldn’t answer. your body was on fire. heat pulsed through you with every slow pump of his finger, every pass over your clit, every whisper that made you feel small and exposed and completely undone—right here, in a room full of people.
“you wanna come?” he asked quietly, like he was offering you more wine.
“yes,” you breathed, not even pretending to hide how wrecked you already were. your voice was thin, barely there, your thighs shaking under the long white tablecloth.
you were soaked. clenching around nothing. dizzy from restraint.
you didn’t know what you looked like right now, but you knew it wasn’t composed. not fully. not with your flushed cheeks and parted lips and the edge of desperation in your eyes.
suna leaned back slightly in his seat.
"but i don’t think you deserve it though."
your breath caught.
"what—"
and just like that, he pulled his hand away.
completely.
no more slow pumps of his finger. no more gentle circles on your clit. no more reward for being silent, obedient, needy.
you were left empty. aching.
your cunt clenched around nothing, a sharp throb rolling up your spine, and you bit down on the inside of your cheek hard enough to sting.
you turned to him, confused, frustrated, a quiet protest dying in your throat, but he didn’t even look at you.
instead, he brought his hand to his mouth—the hand that had been inside you—and without even blinking, he slipped two fingers past his lips.
he licked them clean.
his tongue dragged over each one like it was instinct. familiar. practiced.
not rushed. not messy. just deliberate.
smooth.
lazy.
you watched, stunned, as his lips wrapped around the tips of his fingers, licking off your slick like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just been playing with your body under a table in front of national team members and jva executives.
“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, quiet, almost like he was talking to himself. “you taste so good when you’re this worked up.”
you inhaled sharply, trying not to shake. your pussy fluttered around the loss of him, around the emptiness that made everything worse, sharper.
you turned to him, whispered, “you said if i behaved—”
he finally looked at you again.
and he smiled.
"yeah, but you didn’t behave,” he said, voice smooth, almost amused. “you came to a formal gala with no panties, kept rubbing your foot all over my leg like a needy little slut, and then had the nerve to beg me in public like you didn’t know what game you were playing."
you clenched your fists in your lap, biting back the low whimper caught in your throat.
“i stayed quiet,” you hissed.
“not well enough,” he said, leaning closer, his voice so soft it made your skin prickle. “you were shaking. you were panting. think no one noticed that?”
you didn’t answer.
you couldn’t.
because the idea that someone might’ve noticed made your thighs press together even tighter, and your cheeks burn hotter. not in shame.
but in arousal.
he smirked when he saw it.
"god, you like this," he muttered. "being denied. being teased. sitting next to me while you’re dripping down your thighs and everyone’s too polite to look under the table."
your breath hitched.
“if you really want to come tonight,” he whispered, “you’re gonna have to work for it.”
then he turned back toward the table, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and casually joined in on the conversation across from him. something about league changes. training schedules. a few light jokes passed between the players.
you just sat there.
wet. shaking. unsatisfied.
every nerve in your body alive, overstimulated and under-touched.
your heart was hammering in your chest, and all you could do was press your thighs together, breathe through your nose, and act like you weren’t on the verge of tears from being edged in public with nothing to show for it but a smirk on suna rintarou’s mouth and your arousal on his tongue.
you shifted in your seat. he noticed.
his hand slid back to your thigh, resting there again like before.
but he didn’t move this time.
just pressed his fingers down softly—reassuring. grounding. like a warning.
like a promise.
he didn’t look at you again.
but under his breath, so faint you barely heard it, you caught one last sentence.
"keep that up, kitten, and i won’t just make you beg upstairs. i’ll make you cry for it."
you told yourself to behave.
really, you did.
you told yourself to sit there, legs crossed, hands folded, smile pretty, and wait until this damn gala ended so suna could drag you upstairs and fuck you like he promised.
but then you saw that smug look on his face.
the one he wore when he knew he’d won. when he could sit there, sipping his wine with your arousal still drying on his fingers, knowing you were wet and throbbing next to him—denied, ruined, and obedient.
and something in you snapped.
fine. if he wanted to play, you could play too.
you leaned toward him again, that same sweet little smile painted on your lips, and pretended to be adjusting your clutch on the floor.
your arm brushed against his thigh.
your fingers—just barely—drifted toward his lap under the table.
his breath hitched, almost imperceptibly. but you felt it. and you smirked.
"be careful," he muttered without turning to look at you.
"just getting comfortable," you whispered back.
your hand slid up higher, brushing the front of his slacks. he was already hard—very hard—and you felt the twitch beneath your touch. you didn’t grip him. didn’t stroke. you just… rested there. barely touching.
then you crossed your legs and smiled across the table like you hadn’t just put your palm over your boyfriend’s cock under a linen tablecloth in front of twenty very important people.
"stop," he warned lowly, teeth clenched, voice sharp. "don’t you fucking start."
"what’s wrong?" you asked, feigning innocence. "i’m just touching my boyfriend."
"not here," he hissed.
but you didn’t move your hand.
you pressed down slightly—just enough for him to feel the pressure, but not enough to give him anything. you watched the muscle twitch in his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the armrest, the way his breath came out slower through his nose.
"you know," you whispered, “you made me sit here dripping and aching, and now you expect me to behave?”
you rubbed your palm over him, slowly, lazily, circling once.
"consider this revenge."
"you’re playing a dangerous game," he muttered, eyes forward, refusing to look at you now.
"so are you," you said sweetly.
your hand trailed back down, slow and light, brushing over his thigh again as you sat back like nothing happened. like you hadn’t just touched him hard enough to feel him pulse in your palm, but soft enough to make it agony.
you watched him now.
watched the tightness in his shoulders, the way he shifted in his seat, the slight crease between his brows he always got when he was trying not to snap.
he was pissed.
and hard.
and trying not to show either.
good.
he deserved to squirm too.
he turned to you once more, slow and low and dangerous.
"you really think i won’t fuck the attitude out of you the second we’re alone?"
you blinked up at him with wide eyes. "i’m counting on it."
his hand returned to your thigh again, this time gripping tighter. his thumb brushed up—once—barely grazing your still-sensitive clit, making your breath stutter.
"no mercy tonight," he whispered.
"wasn’t asking for any."
he pulled his hand away.
checked his watch.
and stood up from the table with a casual stretch.
"we’re leaving," he said under his breath. "now."
"mm, so soon?" you teased as you rose with him, grabbing your purse.
"keep talking," he muttered as he placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the elevator with a calmness that didn’t match the look in his eyes. "you’ll be crying in ten minutes."
you barely made it to the elevator.
suna's hand never left your lower back, his grip firm but not rough—just controlling enough to remind you who was in charge now. he didn’t speak as he guided you through the carpeted halls of the hotel. didn’t acknowledge the staff nodding politely or the players waving their goodbyes from across the ballroom. his jaw was tight. his expression unreadable. but his pace? sharp. decisive.
you’d pushed him too far.
and you could feel it.
the elevator doors opened with a soft ding and slid closed behind you both. the second they did, something shifted.
his stillness cracked.
he moved fast.
“hands on the wall.”
his voice was quiet—low and sharp enough to cut through you. you blinked, heart racing, but obeyed, your palms pressing flat to the mirrored wall, your chest rising and falling with anticipation.
“rin—”
“quiet.”
he stepped behind you, the heat of his body coiling around you like smoke. his fingers gathered your dress slowly, deliberately, until your ass was exposed, and his eyes locked on the mirror—watching you squirm under your own reflection.
“look at yourself,” he murmured, voice like gravel. “so fucking needy.”
his hand slid between your thighs, two fingers slipping through your folds like it was nothing. he didn’t even need to try—you were soaked for him. still pulsing. still aching from earlier.
“god, you're dripping,” he whispered, his breath ghosting against your ear. “and i barely touched you.”
you whined softly, pressing your thighs together, but he caught that movement too quickly and stepped closer, using one hand to guide your hips back where he wanted them.
“you think you’re in control?” he muttered, pressing two fingers inside you in one slow, delicious stretch. “think touching me back was a smart idea?”
you whimpered, forehead leaning against the mirror.
“so cocky at the table,” he went on, thrusting his fingers just enough to make you gasp. “so fucking smug.”
his thumb brushed your clit, barely there.
just enough to tease.
just enough to make your body jerk.
“you wanna come?” he asked, keeping that same maddening rhythm.
“yes,” you breathed, voice trembling.
“mm.” he hummed, amused. “but i don’t think you deserve it though.”
and just like that, he pulled his fingers out again—leaving you empty, aching.
you made a small sound, something pitiful and involuntary, but he only sucked your slick off his fingers again—slow and unhurried—like he was tasting dessert.
“what the fuck, rintarou!” you hissed, too loud, too whiny, with your whole body shaking.
he glanced at you. calm. smug.
“watch your tone,” he said. “unless you want to come in this elevator with an audience.”
you glared. he didn’t flinch.
you pressed your thighs together again, trying to find some friction. he noticed immediately.
“don’t,” he said sharply. “you’re not allowed to come.”
you were about to retort—something smart and bratty and half a whimper—when the elevator dinged.
floor twenty-three.
the doors opened.
he took your wrist and walked you through the hall without a word, like he didn’t just make you soak through your thighs in public. your heart was hammering in your chest, lips still parted from how ruined he left you.
and then—right as he unlocked the door with the keycard—he grabbed you.
his hand pulled you back by the waist and pinned you to the hotel wall just inside the door, mouth slamming into yours like he was starving. his lips devoured yours, hot and unrelenting, tongue slipping between your teeth as you gasped.
his other hand held your jaw still as he kissed you harder, messier, breathless.
“so fucking mouthy tonight,” he muttered into your lips.
you clawed at his shirt, grinding up into him, needy and pulsing and soaked. he groaned against your mouth, but didn’t give you what you wanted.
you tugged at his belt. he slapped your hand away.
“no,” he said. “you don’t get to want things tonight.”
“but—”
“no.”
you whimpered, but he was already walking you backward toward the bed, eyes dark with restraint. he pushed you down onto the mattress, flat on your back, legs spread, and stood over you with slow movements—undressing only his blazer and sleeves, keeping everything else on like he wasn’t here to please you.
“what are you doing?” you asked, voice a little breathy, a little sharp.
he raised a brow. “putting you in your place.”
then he sank to his knees.
his hands pushed your thighs apart, spreading you open wide. you flushed under his gaze. there was nothing gentle about it—just a slow, steady look that ate you alive.
“you know what you’ve been like all night?”
he kissed your inner thigh. then the other.
“a brat.”
another kiss. higher.
“a tease.”
his fingers grazed your folds, just once.
“a needy, spoiled little thing who thinks she can act out and still get what she wants.”
“i apologized,” you muttered. “kind of.”
he gave a low laugh, one that didn’t reach his eyes.
“that wasn’t even close to begging.”
you were about to answer when his tongue suddenly flicked over your clit.
you cried out—loud, shocked—and he grabbed your thighs to hold you still as he flattened his tongue and licked you again. slow. wet. deliberate.
you moaned, hands flying to his hair.
but right when the pressure built—when your body clenched and the first wave hit—
he stopped.
pulled back.
you almost screamed.
“rin—what the fuck—”
“you’re not coming,” he said simply, licking his lips like he wasn’t finished. “i told you. you haven’t earned it.”
then his fingers pushed into you.
two this time.
deep. precise.
he curled them just right and watched as your body arched off the mattress, as your legs trembled, as you tried so hard not to fall apart again.
“please,” you gasped.
he sped up just enough to bring you right there—just at the edge, just before it snapped.
you moaned his name, louder this time. “rintarou—please, i’ll be good—i’ll—i’ll listen—”
he stopped again.
your orgasm died in your throat.
you blinked through the tears stinging your lashes, wrecked and twitching under him.
“you don’t even know how to beg properly,” he said, voice calm. steady. completely unaffected by your trembling body and soaked thighs. “if you’re going to act like a brat, i’m going to treat you like one.”
then he kissed your clit.
soft.
sweet.
and stopped again.
you tried to roll your hips, desperate for more, but he held your hips down with both hands and blew a breath over your soaked folds, watching your body twitch at just the ghost of sensation.
“you’re going to take it,” he whispered. “every lick. every thrust of my fingers. and you’re not going to come until i say. no matter how many times you cry. no matter how many times i stop.”
your lip trembled. your hands fisted the sheets.
“do you understand me?”
you nodded, frantic, lips trembling. “yes—yes, rin, please—i’ll be good, i promise, i’ll do anything—”
his smile was slow, wicked.
then his mouth was on you again.
licking. sucking. teasing.
and once more—just before you came—
he pulled away.
again.
and again.
and again.
until you were crying, writhing, begging him with slurred words and broken sounds, and still—he wouldn’t let you come.
you didn’t know how long it had been anymore.
you’d stopped counting the number of times he brought you to the edge, only to pull away right before your body could tip over. your voice was hoarse, your thighs shaking uncontrollably, slick dripping down to the sheets in a messy, ruined pool of need.
you were soaked. overstimulated. swollen. aching.
you were going insane.
your hands trembled as you tried to reach for him again, to clutch his hair or his shoulders or anything that might ground you, but he caught both of your wrists and pinned them down above your head, his grip firm but not unkind.
“uh-uh,” he said softly, his lips slick from your arousal. “no touching.”
“please,” you croaked out, your voice cracking. “rintarou—please—i’m losing it—i can’t—i can’t take it anymore—”
you didn’t even sound like yourself. everything you said came out slurred and broken, as if your mind had gone soft from being denied over and over again.
and still—
he just smiled.
he hovered over you now, kneeling between your legs, and leaned in to press a kiss to your jaw. gentle. out of place. cruel.
“you look so pretty like this,” he murmured. “all messy. all ruined. begging for something i haven’t even decided to give you yet.”
his fingers dipped back between your folds again—slow, deliberate—and just that slight contact made you flinch like you’d been electrocuted.
your body was too raw.
too ready.
and he knew it.
his finger brushed your clit, featherlight.
you sobbed.
“r-rin, please—i need to come, please, just let me—”
he tilted his head, eyes watching you carefully. your red cheeks. your glassy eyes. the way your chest rose and fell in panicked little gasps.
he looked… pleased.
no—worse. satisfied.
because this?
this was exactly where he wanted you.
"you're so fucking close again," he whispered, dragging his fingers through your folds, slow and lazy. "i can feel it. your cunt’s begging just as much as your mouth is."
he slid a finger in again—then another. curling perfectly. angling just right. and your walls clenched around him so tightly that your hips lifted off the bed.
“oh my god—oh fuck, please—please—”
his mouth was back on your tits, kissing the soft skin there, sucking a nipple between his lips just to make your back arch.
“you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, kitten.”
you shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks, body thrumming with so much pent-up tension you thought your soul might crack open.
he slowed down again.
again.
you let out a wail.
“no—don’t—don’t stop—i’ll be good, i swear, i’ll do anything, just please, let me—”
his lips ghosted over yours.
“you said that last time.”
“but i mean it now—please—rin—i’m gonna go insane—”
he kissed you, and it should have been sweet, should have been mercy, but it wasn’t—it was the kiss of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to you and was going to enjoy every second of breaking you down.
“you’re already halfway there,” he whispered. “look at you. crying and begging and still so wet for me.”
you could barely think. barely breathe.
you didn’t know how long he’d been teasing you—fifteen minutes? an hour? it felt like forever.
you throbbed with need. your clit was so sensitive, you swore the next pass of his tongue would make you break.
“please,” you whispered again, almost unintelligible. “please—let me—let me come—i’m gonna lose my mind—”
he leaned in, kissing your tears this time.
“good,” he whispered against your cheek. “i want you fucking wrecked.”
as if to prove it—as if you weren’t already trembling, dripping, sobbing for him—he dipped his head again and latched his mouth onto your breast.
you gasped—sharp, high, choked.
his tongue flicked over your nipple first, warm and wet, before his lips closed around it completely and sucked. hard.
your entire body jerked.
your back arched off the mattress as another shock of pleasure tore through you, raw and electric, sliding down your spine like lightning. and the worst part? the best part? he knew what he was doing. he didn’t move his fingers. didn’t speed up. didn’t even give you more—he just added one new sensation to the chaos already bubbling beneath your skin.
“rin—fuck—i can’t—i can’t—”
he switched to the other breast, licking slow, wet circles over your nipple before sucking again, lips hot and possessive, one hand still keeping your thighs open and your wrists pinned above your head.
his tongue traced a line down your sternum, messy and sweet and unbearable.
“you said you could take it,” he murmured, breath fanning over your spit-slick skin. “you said you’d be good.”
“i am being good,” you sobbed, helpless, arching into his mouth again as he licked back up to your chest, trailing kisses along every sensitive inch. “please, i need it, i’m gonna—i’m gonna lose it—”
he pulled back to look at you, chest heaving, pupils blown, lips swollen from everything he’d done to you.
“you already have,” he said, dragging two fingers slowly back through your folds, just enough pressure to make you twitch again. “you’re crying, baby. look at you.”
you were. tears had stained the corners of your lashes. not sad tears. frustrated, desperate tears.
“i c-can’t take any more,” you whispered, voice breaking apart.
“yes you can,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your nipple again, completely at odds with the way his fingers were teasing your entrance, so slow it made your body pulse.
“you’re gonna fall apart when i say,” he whispered, kissing up to your jaw. “not a second before.”
you whimpered, wrists flexing in his grip.
he licked down your chest again, flicked his tongue lazily over your overstimulated nipple, sucking light and slow, until you were grinding up into nothing.
you were a mess beneath him.
writhing.
panting.
begging.
and he was still holding back.
because watching you break apart under his mouth, little by little, while still not giving you what you wanted—
that was his fucking reward.
you were close again.
dangerously close.
his fingers were gliding in and out with just enough rhythm now—just enough pressure, just enough of that sweet, slow drag along your walls to make your body seize and clench and burn. his tongue was back on your nipple, sucking in time with the rhythm of his fingers, and you could feel it—your release curling tight in your belly, rising hard and fast like a wave ready to crash.
your thighs shook. your mouth dropped open. your breath caught—
“rin—rin, i’m gonna—please—please—”
and he stopped.
again.
you screamed—a broken sound, strangled and wrecked—head tossing back onto the pillows, fists twisting into the sheets above your head as your body tried to chase after the orgasm he ripped from you.
“you’re fucking evil,” you sobbed.
he just chuckled, sitting back between your thighs, his hand dragging along your inner thigh. “i know.”
you were shaking now, tears streaking your cheeks, chest rising and falling with each gasping breath.
“rintarou,” you hissed, half broken, half furious.
“you only call me that when you’re really losing it,” he mused.
“you made me lose it three orgasms ago,” you snapped.
he leaned forward again, his lips brushing your temple, then your cheek.
“and now i’m gonna give it back to you,” he whispered, the hand that was once fucking you now replaced by the warm, heavy press of his cock against your entrance.
your eyes widened.
he was hard. painfully hard. and it felt too good—the promise of it, the weight of it finally resting against where you needed it most. your hips lifted instinctively, greedy and eager, but he held them down with one strong hand.
“not so fast,” he said softly. “you don’t get all of me yet.”
he slid the head of his cock through your soaked folds, dragging up through your slick with slow, maddening strokes. your body shuddered beneath him, clenching uselessly around nothing.
he rubbed it along your clit once.
twice.
your back arched, your mouth fell open again.
“you like that?” he murmured. “so sensitive now. every little thing makes you twitch.”
“just—please—put it in, i can’t—i can’t take it—”
he exhaled slowly, like he was enjoying himself far too much.
and then—
he pressed the tip in.
only the tip.
your mouth dropped open in a silent gasp as your walls clenched around just that much—just barely enough to feel him stretch you, fill you, light your nerves on fire.
but then he stopped.
he didn’t move.
you blinked up at him, chest heaving, every inch of your skin burning.
“why are you—”
“shh,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your jaw. “feel that. just that.”
you sobbed.
“you’re so fucking mean,” you gasped.
he smiled, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “i know.”
his hips rocked forward—just an inch deeper—and your breath hitched.
he pulled back again, letting the head drag along your entrance, rubbing it up and down again like he wasn’t already inside your head and under your skin and deep inside your soul.
“this is what happens when you tease me,” he murmured, kissing your chin. “when you show up to a formal event without any panties, rub your foot along my leg, and then act surprised when i ruin you for hours.”
“you’re ruining me now,” you cried, trembling.
“you deserve it.”
he pushed in again—this time just a little deeper—and your eyes rolled back.
“say it,” he whispered. “say you deserve it.”
“i—i deserve it,” you choked out. “i was a brat—i teased you—please, just fuck me—”
he groaned softly into your ear.
“good girl.”
and then—
he finally, finally—
thrust all the way in.
your breath left you in a sob.
the stretch was immediate, delicious, deep—every inch of him sliding into your soaked, twitching heat in one slow, punishing stroke. your body seized from the sudden fullness, walls clenching around him like you’d never had him before, like you were about to shatter from the inside out.
“fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth, burying himself to the hilt. “you’re so fucking tight—look at you. this pussy missed me, didn’t it?”
you could barely answer.
you were already clawing at his arms, tears spilling down your cheeks, mouth open as your body trembled under the weight of finally, finally having him inside you.
“please,” you sobbed, “please move—please just fuck me—”
he didn’t answer.
not with words.
he pulled out halfway, grabbed your thigh, then slammed back into you with a wet, obscene slap of skin-on-skin. you screamed, voice raw, legs shaking around his waist.
and then he started to move.
hard.
fast.
each thrust knocked the breath from your lungs. his cock dragged along every sensitive spot inside you, each stroke merciless and deliberate. there was no warm-up. no buildup. he fucked you like he owned you—like he needed to feel you break around him.
your moans were high and cracked and near-constant. every thrust drove the tension higher, coil tighter, heat spreading so fast your mind was spiraling.
“r-rin—i’m gonna—”
“yeah?” he growled, hips snapping into you faster. “gonna come now? after all that?”
you nodded frantically, tears falling, lips trembling. “yes—yes—i need it—need it—”
his hand wrapped around your throat.
not too hard. not choking off your breath—but just enough. enough to tilt your head back. to make your eyes flutter. to make your walls clench down violently around him.
“you’re gonna come when i tell you to,” he snapped, fingers tightening slightly. “you wanted to be a brat? now take your fucking punishment.”
he leaned over you, his hips still pounding into you, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing through the room.
“you want to squirt all over my cock?” he growled into your ear. “make a mess all over this bed?”
you whimpered, too fucked out to speak, body thrashing with overstimulation.
“do it,” he said. “fucking come for me. right now.”
and your body obeyed.
you screamed—back arching, legs locking, walls clenching around him so hard he groaned your name.
and then—you broke.
your orgasm ripped through you like fire.
you squirted—wet, hot, and messy—gushing around his cock as your whole body convulsed. the sheets were drenched. your thighs trembled. your vision went white. and suna didn’t stop. not for a second.
he fucked you through it.
“that’s it,” he growled, watching you completely fall apart. “just like that. so fucking pretty when you come like that—ruining the bed—shaking like you can’t take another second—”
you were sobbing now, barely coherent, still twitching from the force of it.
he slammed into you harder. faster.
“gonna come inside you,” he panted, teeth grit. “fill you up so good, kitten. you want that? wanna feel me spill inside your pretty little pussy?”
you nodded. choked on your breath.
“yes—yes—yes, please—please, rin—”
he buried himself one last time, hips stuttering.
and then he came.
hot, deep, endless—thick ropes of cum spilling inside you as he groaned, holding your throat, fucking you through every wave of his release.
you felt every throb. every twitch. every last drop.
and when it was over—you were soaked, dripping, ruined.
he collapsed over you, breathing hard, still twitching inside your overstimulated cunt.
his hand loosened on your throat and slid up to cradle your cheek.
“you okay?” he whispered, softer now.
you blinked up at him—blurry, fucked-out, still trembling.
you nodded.
he leaned down and kissed your tear-streaked face.
“good girl.”
his voice was softer now. hands warm and steady as they trailed gently down your sides, grounding you. your body still pulsed from your last orgasm, muscles twitching, every inch of you raw and oversensitive. but beneath all that wreckage was something else—something aching.
you didn’t want to stop.
you wanted him again.
“rin,” you whispered, voice small, wrecked.
he looked at you—really looked—taking in your flushed face, the tear stains, the dazed way your eyes fluttered half-open beneath him.
“you’re tired,” he murmured, brushing a thumb across your cheek.
“i know,” you breathed. “but i want more.”
he exhaled slowly.
then gave you a look—quiet, reverent, like you were something fragile and divine all at once.
“…okay,” he said after a beat. “come here.”
he pulled back just enough to tug his shirt off over his head, tossing it aside. then he lay back against the pillows and guided you into his lap, his hands never leaving your skin. you climbed onto him slowly, your limbs heavy, trembling, your knees on either side of his hips.
and then you saw him.
laid bare beneath you.
and fuck—you could’ve come right then and there.
his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, lean and sculpted with just enough definition to make your mouth go dry. collarbones sharp, shoulders broad, skin flushed from everything he’d just done to you. there was a slight sheen of sweat across his torso, glinting in the warm hotel light, catching the outline of his abs and the faint trail of hair that led down to where his cock lay heavy against his stomach—still slick with your release, throbbing, flushed red at the tip.
his arms flexed slightly as he reached for your hips again, forearms roped with tension, veins prominent beneath golden skin. you could see the marks you left on him—scratches along his ribs, faint red lines trailing down from your nails, love bites scattered on his neck and shoulder.
but it was the look on his face that nearly undid you.
his eyes were half-lidded, dark and hungry and soft all at once, like he wanted to devour you and cradle you in the same breath. his hair was messy, flattened against the pillows, strands clinging to his forehead. his lips—god, those lips—were swollen from kissing you senseless, parted slightly like he couldn’t wait another second to feel you wrapped around him again.
“you’re staring,” he murmured, voice low and rough.
“you’re hot,” you breathed, almost delirious.
he smirked, hand sliding up from your waist to the dip of your back, guiding you closer.
“yeah?” he said, thumb brushing the side of your thigh. “then sit on it.”
you whimpered—actually whimpered—as your hips instinctively shifted forward, his cock pressing up against your folds, the head catching right at your entrance.
your whole body pulsed.
and suna?
he was still watching you. eyes low, hands steady.
“come on,” he said, voice soft, seductive. “take it, kitten. nice and slow.”
you hovered above him, breath stuttering.
his cock pressed up against your soaked entrance—warm, thick, slick from your release and his previous thrusts. it throbbed beneath you, twitching ever so slightly when your hips shifted, barely brushing against his length.
and he just watched you.
his back rested against the pillows, lean body flushed, chest rising slow with each inhale. his lips were slightly parted, and his dark hair was a tousled mess against the hotel bedding. he looked patient. calm. but there was heat simmering behind those half-lidded eyes, burning slow and deep, waiting for you to behave.
but you didn’t.
instead, you rolled your hips forward—just a bit—grinding your dripping folds along the underside of his cock, letting your clit drag against the tip.
his jaw twitched.
“kitten,” he warned softly.
but you weren’t done. you rocked again, slower this time, letting the head catch right against your swollen entrance before sliding forward, soaking him in your arousal, teasing yourself just as much as you were teasing him.
“i thought you said to take what i wanted,” you murmured, a little breathless smile playing on your lips.
he didn’t say a word.
not at first.
his fingers gripped your hips—hard enough to bruise—holding you in place as you tried to roll again.
smack.
his palm came down on your ass in one clean, open-handed slap.
you gasped—a sharp, needy sound, the sting sinking into your skin and pulsing between your legs.
then he leaned in, mouth brushing your cheek as his voice dropped low, calm and devastating.
“you wanna act up again? make me flip you over? tie those pretty wrists and fuck you until you can’t speak?”
you whimpered, your body pulsing just from his words.
his hand smoothed over where he’d spanked you, slow and almost tender. he wasn’t angry. just in control.
“no?” he prompted, kissing your jaw. “then behave.”
your whole body shivered at the authority in his tone.
so you listened.
you angled your hips and slowly—finally—sank down.
inch by inch, you took him in. the thick head of his cock stretched you open again, your walls fluttering in overstimulated sensitivity. he filled you perfectly, your slick easing the way as you took him all the way to the base.
your hands landed on his chest, steadying yourself.
“fuck,” you breathed out, head tilting back. “you’re so deep…”
his groan rumbled beneath you, hands still steady on your hips. “you’re so fucking tight still. can feel how sensitive you are, baby.”
your thighs trembled slightly from the stretch and the exhaustion still clinging to your muscles, but your body wanted him. wanted more. you started to move—slow, careful grinds, small circles of your hips to test the friction and find your rhythm.
but before you could really take over—
his hands stopped you.
“uh-uh,” he murmured, sitting up just enough to press his chest to yours, one hand sliding up your back to keep you close. “you said you were tired. let me do it.”
you opened your mouth to protest, but he leaned in, lips brushing yours.
“you wanna come again, right?” he whispered, eyes half-lidded. “then be a good girl. just feel me.”
his grip returned to your hips, guiding you now—lifting you slightly before dragging you back down onto him with a slow roll that made you gasp.
you moaned into his mouth as his cock hit deep—too deep—making your walls pulse around him, already close.
and then he kissed you.
not rushed. not sloppy.
slow. deep. intimate.
your lips molded to his, your tongues moving together in rhythm as his hips rolled up into yours from below, letting you ride him while keeping control. every slow grind had his cock brushing your sweet spot, every thrust pulling broken sounds from your throat.
you moaned into his mouth, your fingers sliding down his shoulders and across his back—leaving light scratches that made him growl.
he didn’t stop kissing you.
his hand on your back pulled you closer, chest to chest, while the other held your hips firmly as he kept thrusting up into you from below, guiding your movement like he had all the time in the world to love you like this.
your thighs were shaking again, every nerve lit up, body overwhelmed in the best way possible.
and still—he held you, kissed you, rocked into you like nothing else existed.
“fuck—rintarou—i’m gonna—”
“shh,” he breathed against your lips, slowing you again. “you’ll come when i say.”
you whimpered, your walls tightening around him, everything too hot and too deep and too much.
and still—he made you wait.
made you feel everything.
you pulled away from his lips to take a breath as you can feel your stomach tightening. your eyes rolling at the over whelming pleasure. suna on the other hand being mesmerized by your tits bouncing in front of him.
"rin. fuck please harder, deeper, faster."
granting your wish, he did exactly that at the same time sucking your tits
made you feel everything.
you pulled away from his lips, gasping for air as your head tilted back, a broken moan falling from your throat. your body was flushed, trembling, and slick with sweat, and you could feel it — that tightening heat in your stomach curling tighter and tighter with every roll of your hips.
your thighs trembled with the effort of staying upright, of taking all of him. the pressure was building fast, your chest heaving with each breath as your eyes fluttered shut, rolling back from the overwhelming pleasure.
suna, beneath you, looked like he was in a trance.
his hands were still firm on your hips, but his eyes were locked onto your chest — mesmerized by the sight of your tits bouncing with each grind down on his cock. you looked utterly ruined and breathtaking on top of him, your flushed skin glowing under the low hotel light, your mouth open, your body completely given over to him.
you moaned his name again, voice higher, wrecked. begging.
“rin,” you gasped. “fuck — please — harder, deeper, faster — i need it — please —”
his eyes snapped up to your face. and the second he saw the way you were breaking — how desperate you were for him — he gave you what you asked for.
immediately.
his grip on your hips tightened, and in one fluid motion, he began thrusting up into you with more force — harder now, deeper — meeting each grind of your hips with an unrelenting snap of his own. the sound of skin slapping filled the air, wet and obscene, and you cried out, head falling forward as he fucked up into you with a pace that made your thighs tremble harder.
then — his mouth was on your chest.
he leaned in and sucked one of your nipples between his lips, hot and eager, tongue circling the stiff peak before biting down just enough to make your hips jolt. he groaned low in his throat as he felt you clamp down around him.
“fuck — you like that?” he murmured, voice muffled against your skin. “you want me to use this pretty body until you can’t move?”
“yes — yes, fuck, please—”
he sucked again, harder, teeth grazing sensitive skin as he moved to your other breast, leaving wet, messy kisses in his wake. his cock kept driving into you from below, deep and precise and merciless, hitting that spot inside you over and over until you were gasping with each thrust.
your nails dug into his shoulders, clawing down his back, and he groaned — hips snapping up even harder as your walls clenched tight again.
“you’re so close, aren’t you?” he panted against your chest. “i can feel you squeezing me. you gonna come all over my cock again?”
you nodded frantically, tears spilling at the corners of your eyes. “i c-can’t hold it — rin, please — let me—”
he pulled back, lips slick from your skin, eyes dark and wrecked as he looked up at you.
“then come for me, kitten.”
and with one final deep thrust — you did.
you shattered on top of him.
your orgasm hit like a lightning strike—violent and immediate, rolling through you in waves that left you sobbing, trembling, breath punched out of your lungs. your walls clamped down around his cock like a vice, and then—
you squirted.
hot and sudden, your release gushed around him, coating the base of his cock and spilling down over his abs in a slick, messy rush. it splattered against his taut stomach, glistening across the faint ridges of his toned muscles, dripping down onto the sheets below.
your thighs twitched around his waist. your nails dug into his shoulders. your head dropped forward with a cry so raw and wrecked it didn’t even sound human.
and suna—fuck.
he groaned, deep in his chest, his head falling back for a second as he felt you come all over him.
but he didn’t stop.
not even close.
“fuck, look at that,” he muttered, voice wrecked but steady, eyes dropping to where you soaked him. “you’re dripping down my stomach, kitten. making a mess.”
his grip on your hips tightened again, steadying you. and then—he kept moving.
his cock never left your walls, still hard, still buried deep, still thrusting up into you even as your whole body trembled from the overstimulation.
you whimpered—a high, broken sound—and tried to squirm, hips twitching as his cock dragged against your raw, hypersensitive insides.
“r-rin—i can’t—” your voice cracked on the way out, too hoarse from crying out his name.
“yes, you can,” he said again, low and unwavering. “you’re still taking me. look at you. your body knows who it belongs to.”
your head dropped to his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut, tears pricking at the corners as he kept fucking you—slow, grinding thrusts that dragged out the aftershocks of your orgasm, stretching them into something near unbearable.
his abs flexed beneath your thighs, sticky with your slick.
his cock throbbed inside you, dragging through your fluttering walls with unrelenting pressure.
and all you could do was feel.
“you hear that?” he whispered, right against your ear. “listen to how wet you are, baby. you’re still dripping for me.”
his hips snapped into you again—one, two, three thrusts in a rhythm that made your breath stutter.
you were twitching on top of him now, nearly delirious from overstimulation, your clit throbbing, body giving out with every second. but he held you steady—arms wrapped around you, chest flush to yours, every movement guided by his hands.
“just a little more,” he groaned. “you can give me a little more, can’t you?”
your fingers clung to his back, nails raking down as your walls clenched again around him, still so sensitive, still fluttering uncontrollably.
and he felt it.
“fuck—kitten—i’m gonna—”
his breath hitched, hips stuttering as his rhythm faltered, and then with a low, guttural groan—he buried himself deep one last time.
and came.
you felt the first pulse hit deep—hot, thick, spreading inside you as he spilled everything into your already wrecked body. his arms pulled you close, forearm tight across your lower back as he held you in place, cock twitching with each release.
it was messy.
filthy.
his cum mixed with your slick, dripping around his cock, pooling between your thighs.
you moaned softly into the crook of his neck, every part of you limp and soaked and shaking.
and he just stayed there—buried deep, breathing hard, holding you tight like he never wanted to let you go.
after a long moment, he ran one hand up your back, smoothing down your spine with gentle strokes, his other palm cradling your hip.
you could feel his cum leaking out around his softening cock. the bed was soaked. your thighs were trembling.
but in his arms—you felt safe. warm. wanted.
“you okay?” he murmured, voice rough but soft now, lips brushing your temple.
you gave him the smallest nod against his shoulder, your fingers still curled into his skin.
“that’s my girl,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “you were so fucking good for me.”
his arms never left you.
he stayed buried inside for a while, just holding you close as your breathing slowed, his hands gliding up and down your back in soothing, slow motions. he kissed your shoulder. your temple. your jaw. your fingers twitched weakly against his chest, and you mumbled something too soft for him to catch.
he tilted his head, voice barely above a whisper.
“what was that, baby?”
“’m tired,” you breathed. “too tired to… to dress up. don’t wanna move.”
you felt him smile against your skin.
“of course you’re tired,” he murmured. “you came so hard you cried all over me.”
you let out a sleepy, breathy laugh.
his hand slid gently into your hair, brushing back the damp strands clinging to your face. he leaned up, kissing your forehead.
“we made a mess,” he said softly. “you’re all sticky. can’t let you sleep like this.”
“can’t do a full shower,” you mumbled, still buried in the crook of his neck. “my legs won’t… they don’t even work.”
he chuckled, warm and low. “then we’ll do a half one. just enough to clean you up.”
you whined softly in protest, but when he began to move, you didn’t resist. his hands were careful as he lifted you off his lap, his softened cock slipping out of you with a slick, messy sound that made your cheeks flush again despite everything. his cum leaked from between your thighs, down the inside of your legs.
“look at this,” he said, more to himself, almost in awe. “made such a mess of you.”
you were too dazed to care.
he helped you to the edge of the bed, supporting you the whole way as you tried to get your bearings. your legs did feel like jelly. he kissed your shoulder again and whispered, “told you i’d fuck you dumb.”
“shut up,” you mumbled sleepily.
“you love it.”
he left for a moment to run warm water in the hotel bathroom, then returned to scoop you up in his arms like it was nothing. you didn’t even have the energy to tease him for it. you just curled against his chest, arms around his neck, breathing in the warm scent of his skin as he carried you.
the bathroom was misty with steam, light dimmed, and everything felt safe and slow.
he sat you on the counter first, grabbing a clean towel and soaking it in warm water. then—without a word—he began to clean you. soft, gentle strokes between your legs, over your thighs, down your stomach. he was careful, tender, like you were something precious and breakable.
you watched him with half-lidded eyes, lips parted, your body loose and pliant under his touch.
you sighed, your head resting against the bathroom mirror, too boneless to even tease him back, your body still thrumming from earlier. the towel trailed lazily over your hip, and then your waist, his fingers ghosting just behind the fabric like he didn’t want to stop touching you.
“i’ll grab you a shirt,” he murmured eventually, reaching for the bathroom door.
but your fingers caught his wrist before he could step away.
you shook your head weakly, voice a whisper. “just dry me up.”
he paused. then smiled softly, that quiet, knowing smile he always gave when you let yourself be vulnerable with him.
“needy,” he teased under his breath, but his tone was fond. adoring.
he bent down, slipping one arm under your knees and the other around your back. you didn’t even try to fight it—you just let him lift you, tucking your head against his bare chest, letting his warmth swallow you whole again as he carried you out of the bathroom.
he set you down gently on the edge of the bed, one hand trailing down your spine before he reached for the overnight bag on the floor.
you blinked, eyes fluttering closed and open as you watched him grab a simple pair of your underwear—soft, lacy, dark.
he knelt between your legs, still warm and bare and relaxed from the bath.
“lift your hips, baby.”
you did, barely.
he guided the underwear up your legs with careful hands, pausing once the fabric reached your thighs. he glanced up at you, and you could already see it—the glint in his eye. that quiet mischief he never needed to speak aloud.
“rin,” you warned sleepily.
he didn’t listen.
instead, he leaned in.
and kissed your clit.
soft.
slow.
indulgent.
you twitched, a surprised little jolt, too sore to take more but too sensitive not to react. then his tongue followed, a small, deliberate lick, and then—
he sucked.
your body gave the weakest kick, a tired squeal leaving your lips as you pushed at his shoulder, legs twitching.
“rintarou—!” you half-laughed, half-whined.
he chuckled against your thigh, smug. “couldn’t help it. she looked lonely.”
“she’s tired,” you hissed, voice soft and hoarse, your hand swatting at his shoulder with no real force behind it.
suna just grinned — that lazy, smug grin that said he knew exactly what he was doing.
“still pretty reactive for someone who’s tired,” he murmured, unfazed, as he slowly pulled your underwear up the rest of the way. once the fabric settled snug against your hips, he didn’t move right away. instead, his hand lingered — palm pressing over your core, fingers dragging lightly against the damp lace, just to make you squirm again.
your hips jolted slightly at the contact. you whined, feebly, already too sore to keep up with his teasing.
and he didn’t stop there.
before stepping back, his other hand casually slid up your body, fingers skimming your waist, your ribs — then cupping one breast, warm and firm. he gave it a slow squeeze, thumb brushing your nipple before giving it a light pinch.
you squeaked and smacked his arm again, this time with a little more urgency.
“rintarou!”
he laughed — full-bodied and low, amused at your flustered glare and wobbly kick beneath the covers.
“just checking everything’s still where i left it,” he said smugly, and stood up off the bed.
you watched through half-lidded eyes as he padded across the room, his lean, toned body bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. he bent over slightly to pick up his discarded underwear from earlier, giving you a brief, unfair view of his back and thighs.
he caught you staring.
of course he did.
he smirked, sliding his boxers on slowly, just to be annoying. “see something you like?”
you rolled onto your stomach, burying your burning face into the pillow. “i will throw something.”
he chuckled again, warm and affectionate, and made his way back to you. his weight dipped the bed beside you as he pulled the blanket over your back, sliding in behind you once more. his arms snaked around your waist, his chest pressing to your spine, and he kissed the top of your shoulder softly.
“go to sleep,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin. “we’ll clean the rest up tomorrow.”
you let yourself melt into him, surrounded by warmth, his scent, and the steady rhythm of his breathing. his hand found yours under the blanket, fingers lacing with yours like it was instinct.
you let yourself melt into him, surrounded by warmth, his scent, and the steady rhythm of his breathing. your body fit perfectly against his, your back to his chest, the blanket cocooning you both in heat and quiet.
his hand found yours beneath the covers, fingers lacing with yours like instinct — like second nature, like he’d never not touched you this way.
but of course, suna being suna, he couldn’t keep his hands entirely to himself.
what started as innocent palm-to-palm comfort slowly shifted — his other arm, wrapped lazily around your waist, began to inch up. slow. casual. until his fingers brushed the curve of your breast. then rested there.
soft. possessive. too natural to even feel like a tease.
you sighed, half-asleep. “rintarou…”
he hummed behind you, feigning innocence, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.
you swatted weakly at his hand. “stop copping a feel.”
he didn’t move it. just chuckled low in his throat and gave it a slow squeeze.
“can’t help it,” he mumbled. “they’re warm. perfect. mine.”
you groaned into your pillow. “you’re so annoying.”
“you’re the one who started it,” he murmured, lips brushing over your bare shoulder, warm and featherlight. “rubbing your foot up my leg during a gala like you wanted to die.”
his voice was smooth and smug, a low, velvety tease that made your skin tingle. the way he said it — half-laughing, half-accusing — sent a little flutter through your chest, even though your body was far too spent to properly respond.
you let out a breathy huff, cheek pressed to the cool side of the pillow. “worked, didn’t it?”
he chuckled — the sound rich, indulgent — and you could feel the curve of his smile against your back.
his hand, still resting comfortably on your breast, moved again. his thumb swiped lazily over your nipple — a slow, almost absentminded stroke that made your breath hitch just slightly. not from lust, not anymore — but from the feel of him. steady. warm. always touching you like he didn’t know how not to.
even in your exhaustion, your body twitched at the contact, the faint spark of sensation making your muscles shiver in the best way. but you were too far gone — melted into him, soft and pliant, your limbs heavy and boneless.
you didn’t push him away this time.
you didn’t even swat at his hand.
you just let him.
and then, instead of another teasing pinch or roll of his fingers, he began to massage.
gently.
slowly.
like he was coaxing every bit of tension from your chest with the warm weight of his palm. the movements were languid, rhythmic — his large hand molding to your skin, kneading softly as if your body was something fragile and sacred.
it wasn’t lewd.
not now.
it was something else entirely.
intimate. grounding. his.
you let out a shaky exhale, the tension slowly seeping from your shoulders. your spine curved a little more into his chest. your breathing steadied.
his touch didn’t stop.
he kneaded and rubbed in slow, patient circles, fingers tracing your curves like they were familiar territory. like he was memorizing you for the thousandth time. like he needed you closer even though there was already no space left between your bodies.
your voice came out quiet, barely above a whisper. “feels… really nice.”
“mm,” he murmured into your hair. “i know it does.”
you didn’t need to look to know he was smiling again — that small, proud smile he always wore when he had you soft like this. when you gave in. when you let him care for you after fucking you apart.
his lips brushed over your neck, the tip of his nose nudging gently at the back of your ear as he pulled you in tighter. his legs tangled with yours under the covers, keeping you close, his heartbeat slow and steady against your back.
and still — his hand stayed over your breast. protective. soothing. his thumb rubbing lazy, comforting circles just beneath your nipple now, no longer to arouse — just to calm. to keep you floating somewhere between sleep and safety.
you closed your eyes again, your fingers tightening slightly around the ones he’d laced with yours.
“don’t stop,” you breathed, half-lost to the weight of his touch, the warmth of his skin, the feeling of being absolutely, completely his.
he hummed softly, pressing one last kiss into your shoulder before settling in.
“not planning to.”
and he didn’t.
his body molded to yours perfectly — warm, secure, possessive in the quietest way.
your breathing had just started to slow, your muscles relaxing inch by inch, and for a moment, it felt like the night was finally winding down into silence.
until—
“wanna go again?” he murmured against your skin, voice low and teasing, his lips brushing your shoulder. “you’re so soft right now… think i could get one more out of you.”
you didn’t even open your eyes. you just let out a weak, raspy groan and swatted your hand behind you, landing it somewhere on his hip.
“rin,” you grumbled. “say that one more time and i’m booking a separate hotel room.”
he laughed, full and smug and completely amused at your threat — knowing damn well you didn’t have the strength to do anything about it. not after the way he ruined you tonight.
“so mean,” he murmured, nuzzling deeper into your hair, his voice dripping with lazy amusement. “after everything i did for you tonight?”
you didn’t hesitate.
“you edged me, rin,” you muttered, voice hoarse and sleep-laced. “i don’t even know how many times.”
he snorted against your neck, his body shaking lightly behind you. “you’re the one who teased me under the table in front of like half the board.”
“i wasn’t asking to be ruined in five different ways.”
“you weren’t wearing panties. that was basically a contract.”
you groaned and shoved your foot weakly at his shin. “you’re unbelievable.”
“you loved it.”
you sighed, lips twitching. “…yeah. still booking another room next time though.”
“sure, kitten,” he said, voice smug as hell, already pulling you closer again like he’d never let you sleep apart. “whatever helps you sleep at night.”
you didn’t even respond — just let out a sleepy huff, too tired to argue, too full of him to care. you were already sinking, slowly, gently, into the kind of sleep that only came after being thoroughly ruined and even more thoroughly held.
your back stayed pressed against his chest, the curve of your spine molded perfectly to him, like your body had long since learned where it belonged. his breath was steady against your shoulder, warm and slow, like the whole world had stilled around you.
your fingers stayed tangled with his across your stomach, his hand resting protectively beneath your ribs — a quiet, grounding weight that made your heart settle in your chest.
and his other hand?
naturally, still on your boob.
not squeezing this time, not teasing — just resting there, palm splayed, warm and possessive, like it was the most natural place for him to be. and honestly? it was.
you didn’t swat him away.
you didn’t even try.
because that was just how suna rintarou loved you — wrapped around you, pressed to your back, with a lazy hand full of your tits and his name still echoing somewhere in your bones.
you fell asleep like that.
spoiled. sore. and wrapped up in the warmest kind of quiet love that never needed to say much.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ not even sex can stop him from being a huge nerd
your laptop sat open on the desk, half-forgotten as your fingers trembled over the keyboard. the assignment deadline loomed, but it was really hard to focus when your boyfriend was buried between your thighs, lapping at you with slow, deliberate strokes.
kuroo had been at it for at least twenty minutes, taking his sweet time, letting the occasional deep groan vibrate against your pussy just to watch you squirm. he was always like this—half a menace, half a worshipper—dragging you right to the edge only to pull back and start over. it was infuriating.
you bit your lip, trying to stay somewhat composed, your hips shifting toward his mouth as he sucked your clit between his lips and rolled his tongue against it in that obscene way that made your toes curl. you barely managed to type another sentence before a sharp whimper escaped your throat, and he chuckled—smug bastard.
“mm, getting close?” his voice was muffled, lips brushing against your slick folds.
“y-yeah, so stop—”
but of course, he didn’t stop. he paused. and that was somehow so much worse.
instead of diving back in like a decent boyfriend, he lifted his head slightly, fingers idly tracing patterns against the inside of your thigh. “you know, i read this study the other day about how the female orgasm actually lasts three times longer than the male’s,” he mused, voice far too casual for someone who had his face drenched in your juices. “it has something to do with the way the pelvic muscles contract—”
“tetsu, i swear to fucking god—”
“no, but listen—” he pressed a quick kiss to your clit, as if that would make up for his absolute nonsense. “the average male orgasm lasts about six seconds, right? but for women, it’s closer to twenty. and some women can even have multiple in succession. isn’t that fascinating?”
your entire body twitched with frustration. “tetsurou.”
“what?” he asked, blinking up at you with faux innocence, lips glistening with proof of just how not innocent he was.
“either put that mouth to better use or—”
you barely had a second to brace yourself before he groaned—that deep, gravelly sound that sent heat curling in your belly—and devoured you like he had something to prove. his tongue flicked against your clit, fast and relentless, two fingers pressing inside you with that perfect curl, stroking the exact spot that made your back arch clean off the chair.
you barely had time to suck in a breath before pleasure slammed into you, your entire body trembling as you came with a broken, desperate moan. and he didn’t stop.
“mmh, see?” he mumbled against you, his words vibrating through your overstimulated nerves. “multiple in succession. science is so fucking cool.”
❤︎ | He's just trying to be a good best friend by teaching you a useful skill in life... blowjobs (2k wc)
╰ feat. iwaizumi hajime (hq) x afab! reader
kinktober entry no. 10 | kinktober masterlist
tags - college au, childhood bestfriends, Oikawa mention, blowjobs, handjobs, no p in v, p*rn with plot, virgin! reader
minors do not interact
You've known Hajime since you were in diapers, long enough that he had grown indifferent to your antics. He hasn't even looked up once from his phone as you paced tirelessly around his bedroom. You were losing your shit and Hajime was sitting on his bed without a care in the world.
A bright idea came to you in the form of making your footsteps louder in hopes that it would annoy him enough to catch his attention. He clicks his tongue once before narrowing his eyes at your moving form.
But not even a second later, his eyes were back on his phone one again. "What the hell are you even doing?" he asked.
"Pacing around. Isn't it obvious?"
He grumbles, finally turning his phone off and throwing it to the side where it landed on his pillow with a soft thud. "No shit Sherlock. I meant what are you pacing around for? It's annoying."
Finally, you stop in your tracks, facing your childhood best friend with your lower lip between your teeth. You've been dying to tell him what was on your chest an hour ago. But now that you're about to spill the beans to him—you found yourself tripping over your words.
"I guess... um... Oikawa kinda asked me to hang out soon... um..."
Hajime's interest was piqued. Normally he wouldn't give two shits about who Oikawa asked out. But this time it was you. An uneasy feeling brewed in his stomach, like he had drank rancid milk.
"And you're worrying about it like some middle schooler? C'mon you're in college," he deflects. Of course, it was his defense mechanism—to act all tough and harsh with the revelation.
You crossed your arms in defense. "I get that... but it's THE Oikawa Tooru that we're talking about here."
"So?"
"What do you mean 'so'? Is your head not screwed on properly?"
Hajime rolls his eyes. Not only were you about to be whisked away by Oikawa, but you had the gall to act like a total brat right now.
"He's just asking to hang out—what's so amazing about that?"
Truth be told, you hadn't thought this far into what it would be like if you had this conversation with Hajime. You figured you wouldn't have to divulge the second—more embarrassing—part of this whole event.
A disappointed sigh leaves your lips. You screwed your eyes shut as if to prepare for the impact of his reaction on what you have to say next.
"A friend of mine told me that when he says something like that... it usually leads to... you know..."
Hajime's eyebrow perked then silence ensued. He knew what you meant, of course. He wasn't born yesterday.
"To what? Fucking?"
Your eyes shot open at his vulgar choice of words. That's exactly what you meant, but you didn't think he'd be so blunt about it. "I mean—if it does get to that... obviously I won't just go all the way with him. I haven't even talked to him that much," you say—backpedaling.
"You won't go all the way, but you'll go somewhere huh?" he pried further. He played it off like he was teasing or, worse yet, mocking. But he wanted to know; he knew his friend's intentions, but he didn't know yours.
You nervously bit your lip again. This was going to be the third revelation of tonight. Never in a thousand years would you have thought that you'd be having his conversation with your childhood best friend.
"Maybe... maybe, yeah... that's what I'm nervous about..."
The uneasy feeling had grown worse. Hajime swallowed even though his mouth felt dry. "Then just don't," he suggests. "You could always just hang out normally."
Another sigh escapes you and you decide to sit beside him—plopping down on the mattress. You ran your fingers through your hair, smoothing out any tangles that had built up.
"I just wanna experience something... you know? I'll only be young and in college once..." you admit. At this point, there was no use in hiding it. Hajime knew every substantial detail anyway.
This time, it was Hajime who sighed. Part of him still felt dread, but another felt pity for you.
"Jeez..."
Hearing his reaction, you felt the urge to stand up and find your bearings. But a warm hand grips your wrist before you could go. You turn to look back and see Hajime's determined expression.
"I'll teach you then."
────────────
Hajime was a 100% sure not a single rational thought was left in either of your heads. Somehow, he thought that if only you touched him and not vice versa—it would be fine. And, somehow, you agreed to it.
You gulped at the sight in front of you, Hajime leaning against the wall on his bed with his dick out of his sweats.
"Well... that's certainly... something..."
"Do you also plan on commenting about his dick when you see it?"
His sarcasm was hardly appreciated right now, especially since you were sure that your nerves would send you into a tailspin.
"No, of course not. I just—fuck, fine. Let's get to it," you say before scooting closer to him.
Carefully, you reach out and gently wrap your fingers around his shaft. Hajime hissed softly, but you were too concentrated to even notice.
Mesmerized, you swiped your thumb over his tip and gave him a soft tug. His jaw was clenched so hard, trying to act like none of this fazed him. But the way you treated him so delicately was arousing in its own way.
You begin stroking him faster. "Is this okay? It doesn't hurt, right?"
"No, but," Hajime pauses before placing his larger hand over yours. "You could do it better though."
He was now guiding you—actually teaching you how to jerk a guy off. Your eyes were fixated on the way both of your hands glided up and down his shaft, slippery from the immense amount of pre.
But his eyes were on your face. Oddly enough, he found it endearing how focused you were at the task on hand (quite literally). He watched every time your face scrunched, how your mouth was a bit agape, and how your eyebrows would quirk up sometimes.
It was cute, he thought.
As soon as you figured out the pace and pressure, he let go of your hand, allowing you free reign over his dick. You felt it twitch. It was most likely a good sign at least. Even better now that he had his eyes closed, head thrown back against the wall.
Maybe this was easier than you thought. Maybe you could do something else. So your hand slows and your eyes trail up to his face. "Hajime."
"What?"
"Can I use my mouth?"
All the air was knocked out of his lungs upon hearing the words that left you. "Huh? What for?"
"No one's gonna be impressed by a handjob. Guys already do it on their own all the time," you reason.
Hajime clicks his tongue. "You don't have to do that kind of thing yet when you're this inexperienced."
He tried staying stern despite the almost pleading look on your face. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was denying you. He could have your pretty lips wrapped around his cock in a second and here he was—acting like a righteous fool when he doesn't have to be.
Again, he clicks his tongue. But, this time, not because of you. He's annoyed at himself for having no restraint... for having no shame that he's kind of taking advantage of his best friend's naivety.
But to hell with it.
"Okay," he relents. Hajime watches as you get even closer to him. Only then do you feel the nerves consume you once more.
The newfound confidence you had earlier had quickly dissipated as soon as you began leaning down. It didn't help that his natural manly scent was intoxicating. It was warm—you felt it against your face—and it was achingly hard.
You pucker your lips on instinct, accidentally kissing his tip instead. Hajime thought you were doing it on purpose to fuck with him, not realizing that you were tripping out of nervousness.
"Don't be a tease."
"I'm not!" you countered before quickly wrapping your lips around his cock. The warmth of your mouth sent shivers down his spine. But the slight grazing of your teeth on his sensitive shaft made him uncomfortable.
"Ah shit.... less teeth. Gotta hollow out your cheeks a bit."
Your jaw was already hurting. Though it probably had less to do with your skill and more to do with his size. He seemed more manageable with just a hand, but now that you're using your mouth, the task seemed gargantuan now.
But you still try. You do as he says and you feel his entire body relax a bit. It takes a lot of your concentration to make sure your teeth were out of the way and your lips provided enough suction.
That alone had Hajime seeing stars. It wasn't the best blowjob of his life, but seeing that it was your head bobbing up-and-down on his dick was a sensation in and of itself.
After getting used to the basics, you decide to throw in a little bit of tongue action. It caught him by complete surprise and a soft groan spilled from his lips.
Scared that you had hurt him, you were about to lift your head to ask him, but his hand quickly places itself on top of your head. He wasn't rough nor did he forcefully keep your head down.
Instead, he began caressing your hair—starting from the top of your head, going down to smooth your locks. It was his way of reassuring you that he felt fine—amazing even. You were doing a damn good job for someone who hasn't done this before.
Hajime avoided using his voice throughout the whole thing to make it less intimate and more 'educational' if that even made sense. But he understood that you probably needed more reassurance.
"That's it," he started. "You're doing so well... so well for me."
Hajime had filthier things to say otherwise, but again, this was supposed to be 'educational'.
As much as you want to keep up the pace that you built, your jaw was too sore for that. A bit of a break wouldn't hurt, so you retract yourself—tongue lolled out with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. The sight alone would have made him bust, but he kept his composure... somewhat.
"Oh fuck..."
His words spurred you on, however. You settled on suckling his tip while your hand worked on the rest of his length. Having the best of both worlds made his head spin. His leaking tip was the most sensitive it had ever been and the fast pace of your hand made the coil in his stomach tighter and tighter.
Hajime wanted nothing more but to come in your mouth—consider it as payment for him teaching you. His dick began to twitch again like earlier, but this time you noticed the way his abs would tense up. The dampness that had been pooling in your underwear ever since you had his dick in your hand was starting to become distracting. But you pulled through.
"Fuckkk... I'm coming in your mouth," he announced. Thick white ropes of hot cum painted your tongue. The flavor was odd—something you've never tasted before. It made your face contort a bit.
He tried catching his breath after that single mindblowing orgasm. But through his high, he noticed the hesitation on your face. "You don't have to swallow that you—"
But he stops mid-sentence as he watched you gulp down his fresh seed. You've gone this far—might as well.
Hajime swore that he felt his dick twitch back to life, ready for more. He wasn't sure what you did to him. But now he was certain that you absolutely shouldn't do this with anyone but him.
"Fuck... forget about that moron. Have fun with me instead."
❤︎ | He's just trying to be a good best friend by teaching you a useful skill in life... blowjobs (2k wc)
╰ feat. iwaizumi hajime (hq) x afab! reader
kinktober entry no. 10 | kinktober masterlist
tags - college au, childhood bestfriends, Oikawa mention, blowjobs, handjobs, no p in v, p*rn with plot, virgin! reader
minors do not interact
You've known Hajime since you were in diapers, long enough that he had grown indifferent to your antics. He hasn't even looked up once from his phone as you paced tirelessly around his bedroom. You were losing your shit and Hajime was sitting on his bed without a care in the world.
A bright idea came to you in the form of making your footsteps louder in hopes that it would annoy him enough to catch his attention. He clicks his tongue once before narrowing his eyes at your moving form.
But not even a second later, his eyes were back on his phone one again. "What the hell are you even doing?" he asked.
"Pacing around. Isn't it obvious?"
He grumbles, finally turning his phone off and throwing it to the side where it landed on his pillow with a soft thud. "No shit Sherlock. I meant what are you pacing around for? It's annoying."
Finally, you stop in your tracks, facing your childhood best friend with your lower lip between your teeth. You've been dying to tell him what was on your chest an hour ago. But now that you're about to spill the beans to him—you found yourself tripping over your words.
"I guess... um... Oikawa kinda asked me to hang out soon... um..."
Hajime's interest was piqued. Normally he wouldn't give two shits about who Oikawa asked out. But this time it was you. An uneasy feeling brewed in his stomach, like he had drank rancid milk.
"And you're worrying about it like some middle schooler? C'mon you're in college," he deflects. Of course, it was his defense mechanism—to act all tough and harsh with the revelation.
You crossed your arms in defense. "I get that... but it's THE Oikawa Tooru that we're talking about here."
"So?"
"What do you mean 'so'? Is your head not screwed on properly?"
Hajime rolls his eyes. Not only were you about to be whisked away by Oikawa, but you had the gall to act like a total brat right now.
"He's just asking to hang out—what's so amazing about that?"
Truth be told, you hadn't thought this far into what it would be like if you had this conversation with Hajime. You figured you wouldn't have to divulge the second—more embarrassing—part of this whole event.
A disappointed sigh leaves your lips. You screwed your eyes shut as if to prepare for the impact of his reaction on what you have to say next.
"A friend of mine told me that when he says something like that... it usually leads to... you know..."
Hajime's eyebrow perked then silence ensued. He knew what you meant, of course. He wasn't born yesterday.
"To what? Fucking?"
Your eyes shot open at his vulgar choice of words. That's exactly what you meant, but you didn't think he'd be so blunt about it. "I mean—if it does get to that... obviously I won't just go all the way with him. I haven't even talked to him that much," you say—backpedaling.
"You won't go all the way, but you'll go somewhere huh?" he pried further. He played it off like he was teasing or, worse yet, mocking. But he wanted to know; he knew his friend's intentions, but he didn't know yours.
You nervously bit your lip again. This was going to be the third revelation of tonight. Never in a thousand years would you have thought that you'd be having his conversation with your childhood best friend.
"Maybe... maybe, yeah... that's what I'm nervous about..."
The uneasy feeling had grown worse. Hajime swallowed even though his mouth felt dry. "Then just don't," he suggests. "You could always just hang out normally."
Another sigh escapes you and you decide to sit beside him—plopping down on the mattress. You ran your fingers through your hair, smoothing out any tangles that had built up.
"I just wanna experience something... you know? I'll only be young and in college once..." you admit. At this point, there was no use in hiding it. Hajime knew every substantial detail anyway.
This time, it was Hajime who sighed. Part of him still felt dread, but another felt pity for you.
"Jeez..."
Hearing his reaction, you felt the urge to stand up and find your bearings. But a warm hand grips your wrist before you could go. You turn to look back and see Hajime's determined expression.
"I'll teach you then."
────────────
Hajime was a 100% sure not a single rational thought was left in either of your heads. Somehow, he thought that if only you touched him and not vice versa—it would be fine. And, somehow, you agreed to it.
You gulped at the sight in front of you, Hajime leaning against the wall on his bed with his dick out of his sweats.
"Well... that's certainly... something..."
"Do you also plan on commenting about his dick when you see it?"
His sarcasm was hardly appreciated right now, especially since you were sure that your nerves would send you into a tailspin.
"No, of course not. I just—fuck, fine. Let's get to it," you say before scooting closer to him.
Carefully, you reach out and gently wrap your fingers around his shaft. Hajime hissed softly, but you were too concentrated to even notice.
Mesmerized, you swiped your thumb over his tip and gave him a soft tug. His jaw was clenched so hard, trying to act like none of this fazed him. But the way you treated him so delicately was arousing in its own way.
You begin stroking him faster. "Is this okay? It doesn't hurt, right?"
"No, but," Hajime pauses before placing his larger hand over yours. "You could do it better though."
He was now guiding you—actually teaching you how to jerk a guy off. Your eyes were fixated on the way both of your hands glided up and down his shaft, slippery from the immense amount of pre.
But his eyes were on your face. Oddly enough, he found it endearing how focused you were at the task on hand (quite literally). He watched every time your face scrunched, how your mouth was a bit agape, and how your eyebrows would quirk up sometimes.
It was cute, he thought.
As soon as you figured out the pace and pressure, he let go of your hand, allowing you free reign over his dick. You felt it twitch. It was most likely a good sign at least. Even better now that he had his eyes closed, head thrown back against the wall.
Maybe this was easier than you thought. Maybe you could do something else. So your hand slows and your eyes trail up to his face. "Hajime."
"What?"
"Can I use my mouth?"
All the air was knocked out of his lungs upon hearing the words that left you. "Huh? What for?"
"No one's gonna be impressed by a handjob. Guys already do it on their own all the time," you reason.
Hajime clicks his tongue. "You don't have to do that kind of thing yet when you're this inexperienced."
He tried staying stern despite the almost pleading look on your face. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was denying you. He could have your pretty lips wrapped around his cock in a second and here he was—acting like a righteous fool when he doesn't have to be.
Again, he clicks his tongue. But, this time, not because of you. He's annoyed at himself for having no restraint... for having no shame that he's kind of taking advantage of his best friend's naivety.
But to hell with it.
"Okay," he relents. Hajime watches as you get even closer to him. Only then do you feel the nerves consume you once more.
The newfound confidence you had earlier had quickly dissipated as soon as you began leaning down. It didn't help that his natural manly scent was intoxicating. It was warm—you felt it against your face—and it was achingly hard.
You pucker your lips on instinct, accidentally kissing his tip instead. Hajime thought you were doing it on purpose to fuck with him, not realizing that you were tripping out of nervousness.
"Don't be a tease."
"I'm not!" you countered before quickly wrapping your lips around his cock. The warmth of your mouth sent shivers down his spine. But the slight grazing of your teeth on his sensitive shaft made him uncomfortable.
"Ah shit.... less teeth. Gotta hollow out your cheeks a bit."
Your jaw was already hurting. Though it probably had less to do with your skill and more to do with his size. He seemed more manageable with just a hand, but now that you're using your mouth, the task seemed gargantuan now.
But you still try. You do as he says and you feel his entire body relax a bit. It takes a lot of your concentration to make sure your teeth were out of the way and your lips provided enough suction.
That alone had Hajime seeing stars. It wasn't the best blowjob of his life, but seeing that it was your head bobbing up-and-down on his dick was a sensation in and of itself.
After getting used to the basics, you decide to throw in a little bit of tongue action. It caught him by complete surprise and a soft groan spilled from his lips.
Scared that you had hurt him, you were about to lift your head to ask him, but his hand quickly places itself on top of your head. He wasn't rough nor did he forcefully keep your head down.
Instead, he began caressing your hair—starting from the top of your head, going down to smooth your locks. It was his way of reassuring you that he felt fine—amazing even. You were doing a damn good job for someone who hasn't done this before.
Hajime avoided using his voice throughout the whole thing to make it less intimate and more 'educational' if that even made sense. But he understood that you probably needed more reassurance.
"That's it," he started. "You're doing so well... so well for me."
Hajime had filthier things to say otherwise, but again, this was supposed to be 'educational'.
As much as you want to keep up the pace that you built, your jaw was too sore for that. A bit of a break wouldn't hurt, so you retract yourself—tongue lolled out with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. The sight alone would have made him bust, but he kept his composure... somewhat.
"Oh fuck..."
His words spurred you on, however. You settled on suckling his tip while your hand worked on the rest of his length. Having the best of both worlds made his head spin. His leaking tip was the most sensitive it had ever been and the fast pace of your hand made the coil in his stomach tighter and tighter.
Hajime wanted nothing more but to come in your mouth—consider it as payment for him teaching you. His dick began to twitch again like earlier, but this time you noticed the way his abs would tense up. The dampness that had been pooling in your underwear ever since you had his dick in your hand was starting to become distracting. But you pulled through.
"Fuckkk... I'm coming in your mouth," he announced. Thick white ropes of hot cum painted your tongue. The flavor was odd—something you've never tasted before. It made your face contort a bit.
He tried catching his breath after that single mindblowing orgasm. But through his high, he noticed the hesitation on your face. "You don't have to swallow that you—"
But he stops mid-sentence as he watched you gulp down his fresh seed. You've gone this far—might as well.
Hajime swore that he felt his dick twitch back to life, ready for more. He wasn't sure what you did to him. But now he was certain that you absolutely shouldn't do this with anyone but him.
"Fuck... forget about that moron. Have fun with me instead."
I just thought of how cute it would be if Bakugo ever tried to win over someone and ended up becoming 'one of the girls' in her group friendship.
He's not yet a boyfriend because he hasn't worked up the courage to confess, but he makes his attraction obvious. But you're oblivious to it.
He tries hanging out with you alone sometimes, but you're really close with your girls, so he ends up hanging out with you all as a group.
And he acts grumpy, always, but there's some moments of tenderness between you all.
You complain you're hungry one day whilst you're both in the dorm kitchen and he offers to make you a sandwich. But then two of your friends walk in, and tease at him about why he's making only you a sandwich.
He glares at them, grumbling. Usually, he wouldn't care. He'd yell at them maybe, scoff with that scowl on his face, and make some comment about how you're the one that's hungry.
But the way you giggle and smile has him malfunctioning, a blush dusting his cheeks and his body tensing in frustration.
You're so beautiful.
And so, in an attempt to hide his feelings for a while longer, he ends up making for them, too. Four of you end up sitting around the kitchen island, munching on his unsurprisingly good sandwiches, your friends teasing him and laughing with you.
They know he likes you. It's obvious, and if he were ever to ask their help in anything concerning romance with you, they'd help without complaint.
But watching him fumble around you was entertaining and endearing. Plus, he was a good friend when he wanted to be.
I'm talking, agreeing to take faceless pictures with them to make some guy they were talking to jealous.
Begrudgingly buying you all matching bracelets when they threaten to set you up with some boy from another class.
Giving out guy advice to the best of his abilities, but not without thoroughly shitting on their dating lives.
"You've got fucking commitment issues, you know? I thought you were settling with the movie-date guy."
"If he liked you, maybe you wouldn't have to be the one to text him first after 3 days."
And over time, after he'd managed to actually tell you how he feels, and you both end up together, he can say he genuinely enjoys the company of your friends, and actually does mind when they caption him as 'our bitch' on their posts.
I have been reading Kaiju No. 8: B-Side and I love how it shows that the author cares for his characters and plot. Every character has their growth and each of them is given a chance to EAT every time. I truly love that.
Kaiju No. 8: B-Side is like a side-story where we get to know more about the characters, and it answers some of the viewers’ questions. It’s a light read and not really necessary, however, you’d most likely read it for its soft and lovable stories. <333
[Mild Spoilers below the cut]
We get to see Hoshina’s backstory of how he got in to Third Division.
How Kikoru got her own customized weapon + hints of her crush (the admiration type, please some fans are weird) on Kafka and it’s so cute.
Finally, we get to see Narumi’s backstory and his awakening.
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