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“I thought we said we weren’t doing this anymore,” you gasp, fingers tangled tightly in the bleached blonde head of hair currently buried between your shoulder and neck.
Atsumu exhales sharply when you tug hard enough to unseat his mouth from your damp skin, pupils blown wide, lips shiny, face flushed. You know you don’t look much better splayed out beneath him on Suna’s bed in nothing but a bra and a skirt.
Because of course the two of you are hooking up at one of Suna’s parties.
Again.
The thing is—you and Atsumu are friends. Good friends. Great friends, even. Suna introduced the two of you (and he still regrets it to this day, probably, given how many times the two of you have fucked in this very room).
Romantically, your compatibility is nonexistent. Atsumu’s everything you don’t want in a partner, and you’re well past the “I can fix him” naivete of your youth.
Sexually? Your chemistry is egregious. Unbelievable. Infuriating. Mind-blowing.
“Did we? Can’t remember. Got hit in the head with a ball last game,” Atsumu laments in a tone that’s borderline pathetic, resting his face on your chest as he looks up at you with those stupid, big, brown eyes. “Memory loss.”
You flick his forehead, and he starts mouthing at your nipple through the sheer, lacy fabric of your bra.
Whatever. Maybe you wore your nice lingerie tonight. Just in case.
“You’re just horny.”
Atsumu sighs. “Ya say that like it’s a crime.”
“And you saw me flirting with Meian downstairs.”
He uses teeth, biting down on your nipple just hard enough to make you arch up off of the bed slightly. “Look, I’ve seen his dick in the locker room—”
You pull his hair again, harder this time, and he groans.
“You think I couldn’t take him?” you tease. Mostly to set him off. Atsumu’s competitive like that, after all.
(God forbid you bring up Osamu in bed again.)
“Oh, I think ya could.” Atsumu slides up your body, mouth hovering over yours. “But he ain’t gonna make ya come like I do.”
He kisses you, slow and filthy, tongue sliding past the seam of your lips as he cups your jaw, fingers splayed against the side of your neck. Like muscle memory, your hips rock upward, seeking that familiar friction in all those places your bodies fit so well together.
You’re rewarded with the feeling of his erection pressed firmly at your core, a shiver of pleasure rippling up your spine.
“We’re not having sex,” you tell him, trying to maintain any shred of dignity before your desire wins out tenfold.
Atsumu nips your bottom lips. “I got a mouth for a reason.”
“Nope.”
“Fingers—”
“No.”
He pauses for a moment, hair hanging in his face as he looks down at you. “Fine.”
Reaching down between your bodies, he pushes up your skirt to reveal your soft, pink cotton panties. There’s a gentle, almost intimate caress to your hip before he grasps it, his hair tickling your forehead as his lips meet yours in an open-mouthed kiss at the exact moment he grinds down against you.
Unable to hold back the moan that he drags out of you, your thighs tremble as you press back up into him. You feel him smile against your mouth.
“C’mere.”
Atsumu pulls back, and you have half a mind to protest the way he slips off of the bed, but then he hooks a hand under each of your kneecaps and drags you to the edge of Suna’s mattress.
“What’re you doing?” you ask him as he slips off his boxers and starts to palm his cock.
“Is there a rule that I can’t make ya come?” he asks.
You shake your head, because it’s hard to think straight when the only man who knows how to work you through three orgasms in a row is staring down at you with a lopsided smile.
(Because it’s difficult to make good decisions when he’s involved.)
(Because you know if you told Atsumu to fuck off right now, he would.)
Palming your thighs, he spreads your legs, positioning himself between them. He takes his cock in one hand and slowly, firmly drags the tip down the length of your core, the head dragging against your cotton panties. You shiver at the sensation, and he smirks.
“See, I’m a good boy. I can follow rules.”
If it were anyone else, you might feel embarrassed knowing that you’ve already soaked a wet spot into your underwear, the pink fabric rapidly staining into a darker, slicker shade with each steady, tender stroke of Atsumu’s dick up and down your sensitive, clothed folds.
But Atsumu’s got this way of making you feel sexy for how wet you get.
“Always so fuckin’ wet for me,” Atsumu murmurs, followed by a groan as he marvels at the way your panties cling to you, the line where they’ve been sucked into your slit, the tender little lump where they cling to your clit.
You choke out a noise that might be a sob when the head of his cock meets your swollen bud, the ridge a sharp, hot kiss of pleasure that swells in your abdomen with reckless abandon. Your body trembles with need, hips rocking into his touch, and this time, the tip of his cock catches on your hole.
“Atsumu—”
He exhales sharply. “I know, baby. I know.”
His cock butts against your quivering entrance, and you can feel the fabric of your panties stroking your inner walls as the thick head pushes inside of you. With the barrier of your underwear, he can’t sink in far, but it’s enough to have tears of desperation pricking at the corners of your eyes anyway.
“Atsumu,” you try again, uncaring of how needy you must look trying to push him further inside.
Your cunt aches.
He eases off, hooking a finger in the bottom of your panties and tugging them aside just enough to slip his cock beneath the fabric—
But he doesn’t ease it inside of you.
Instead, he slides his length along your bare, sticky folds. The sensation has you seeing stars, fingers gripping the sheets, the mattress groaning in protest as you shake. Pleasure scorches your insides with each long, slow, firm stroke.
And as badly as you want him to thrust balls deep inside of you, to fuck you into the mattress, to pump you full of cum till you’re a cock drunk mess, to finger fuck you through another orgasm or lick his own filthy mess right out of your tight hole after like he has a habit of doing—
There’s something about the determination on Atsumu’s face, the way he’s so hellbent on following these arbitrary rules you threw down on him after making out like teenagers in the bathroom. The way he wants to show you that he doesn’t even need to fill your empty pussy to have you thinking about his cock for weeks after this.
You’re so wet that the sound of Atsumu rubbing his cock against your pussy has become downright obscene, and his hand is soaked with a sticky layer of your arousal from guiding his shaft through it again and again and again.
Ultimately, it’s somehow the sight of him suddenly switching hands and sucking your slick off of his fingers that does you in, his eyes falling closed as he groans around the digits.
Pleasure explodes inside of you, a boiling hot flash flood that has every muscle in your body clenching so tightly you think you might collapse in on yourself entirely. Atsumu follows while you’re still coming down from the aftershocks, his cock tucked beneath your panties, and his cum soaks right through the material in thick, hot spurts.
Rather than collapse beside you, Atsumu does his best at cleaning up the mess, using up most of the tissues in the box on the nightstand in the process. He looks back and forth between the soiled wad and Suna’s trashcan before shrugging and tossing it in.
“Rin’s gonna kill you,” you mutter when he finally does settle down on your left side, briefly pressing his lips to your temple.
Atsumu’s fingers find your necklace, and he idly plays with the chain. “I can take him.”
You turn to look at him, brows raised. “In a fight?”
Both of you snort just as Suna’s voice yells through the door, “Atsumu, I swear to fuckin’ god if your bare ass dick is touching my sheets—”
His now-soft dick hovers limply above said sheets, where a single drop of cum has leaked from the tip onto the green fabric.
“Well technically…” Atsumu shrugs.
“You’re terrible,” you tell him, huffing in amusement.
“The worst,” he nods in agreement.
“We’re never doing this again.”
“That’s what ya said last time.”
“I mean it, Atsumu.”
“And the time before that.”
“Atsumu—”
“Did ya know you get this real cute wrinkle between your eyes when ya frown—”
You cut him off with a kiss.
Just to shut him up.