miyusawa + angry kisses
angry miyusawa kisses give me life;;; hope u like this sweetie!!!
“You guys solve whatever shit you gotta solve,it’s really annoying.”
As soon as Kuramochi left the room and the doorclicked shut behind him, Miyuki got up from where he was perched on the deskand crossed the room in three quick heavy steps. Sawamura barely had time toget up from the bed before Miyuki grabbed his collar and smashed him againstthe wall.
“What the hell?” Sawamura started.
“Next time you ignore one of my calls we’regoing to have a serious problem?”
Sawamura snorted. “Yeah, and what would thatbe?” Truth was, Sawamura had been feeling especially feisty that day duringpractice, ignoring every single one of Miyuki’s calls under the pretext that hewas beginning to grasp the concepts of game-calling. It had worked out well,more or less, probably because of Miyuki’s own abilities as a catcher, thoughSawamura wouldn’t acknowledge that. It had led to an everlasting contest ofglares and awkward silences during dinner, which had provoked a strangely shorthang-out session in Miyuki’s room, Kuramochi being the only member of the teamable to stand the ongoing cold war between Miyuki and Sawamura for more thanhalf an hour.
“Well, I won’t catch for you ever again.”Miyuki said, tightening his grip.
“You were calling shit today.”
“Because you were pitching shit. Shut up,” hebarked out as Sawamura started to protest.
“Make me.”
Sawamura leaned in, circling Miyuki’s wristswith his hands to loosen his hold on his t-shirt, but Miyuki had already moved,and he found his head yanked back by a tight grip on his hair. Before he couldeven think of pushing the catcher away from him, Miyuki clashed their lipstogether in a kiss so forceful Sawamura thought he might be bleeding. His mouthdidn’t taste like metal though, so he kissed Miyuki back with double strength,swiping his tongue along his lower lip only to bite it afterwards. Miyuki madea noise akin to a growl that made a shiver run down Sawamura’s spine, and hebit his lip again before placing his hands on Miyuki’s chest and pushing hard,one, two, three times until the catcher’s back hit the other wall, their lipsstill waging a battle.
Sawamura broke away from the kiss and buriedhis face in the crook of Miyuki’s neck, biting furious red marks that werebound to be a beautiful palette of burgundy, plum and, eventually, marigoldcolors. Miyuki consented this a few more seconds, digging his fingers hard intoSawamura’s hipbones, before bringing his right hand to the pitcher’s jawlineand forcing him to meet his lips again. Somewhere along the line, Miyuki’sfingers loosened until they were just a brush of fingertips on tight skin andhe leaned back slightly, resting his forehead on Sawamura’s.
“You’re a brat,” he said against wet lips.
“And you’re a ruthless dictator.”
They stayed like that, ragged breaths mixingand hands wandering lazily through stray strands of hair.
“I have to be,” Miyuki said. “If we want towin.”
Sawamura leaned in, placing a slightly off-centerkiss in the corner of Miyuki’s mouth. “I know.”