#do you guys even know what kings cup is? is it an Aussie thing? idk HAHAHAH

[itsleese]

WEESE CONGRATS KISSKISS BANNER HARE KON!!!

could i ask for: atsumu, party/social gathering with a lil spicy 👉👈

raphhhh babie yesss yuzu is best girl and DESERVES SO MUCH BETTER IM—! 😌✨ the vibes of this are immaculate!

“No.”

Uproar. Everyone around the table starts complaining about it, and you sigh, glaring at the instigator through the holes cut in the beer carton you’re currently wearing like a helmet. They even cut you a little mouth hole so you can drink through your straw.

“Babe, you’re box-head, you’ve gotta get me a beer if I ask. King’s Cup rules, not mine.” His grin would be contagious, if it didn’t make you wanna slap him upside the face.

“Fine,” you stand abruptly, grabbing his empty bottle and stomping out of the dining room and down the hall into the kitchen, rolling your eyes at the cheer that explodes from the group.

You put the empty with the others on the counter and turn to angrily— because you’re only at this stupid gathering because he begged you to come— reef the fridge door open, when you feel hands on your hips.

“Hey,” he says, smirk evident in his voice.

“Atsumu, I swear, if you’re in here to be funny, I—”

“‘M not, though,” he says softly, pushing you against the closed fridge doors with his hips, one hand gathering both of yours behind your back, the other snaking down your front to dip into your leggings.

“Atsumu.” You’re trying to be stern, but your breath hitches, “c-can’t see,” you whine as his fingers bypass your underwear, his calloused pads ghosting over your clit to dip into your wet heat.

You moan, eyes rolling as a breathy sigh leaves his lips, and you wish you could feel it against your ear, your neck, your mouth—

“Tsumu—”

“Shh, they’ll hear you,” he teases, bringing his wet fingers up to your clit, drawing slow, practised circles over and around it, grinding his cock against the thin material of your leggings. You rest your head against the cardboard and close your eyes, pushing back into him with your bottom lip between your teeth as he edges you closer and closer to—

“Yo!” Someone— Bokuto, probably— yells, a gasp tearing from your throat. Atsumu doesn’t stop; he goes faster. Presses into you harder. “Hurry up with the beers!”

“Baby, you better cum, he’s coming in...” Atsumu teases, rubbing with precision as you wriggle and moan against him, still stuck, heart racing. “You gonna cum? Like a dirty little whore? While my friends are in the next room? While one’s about to walk in—”

You cum with a whine, knees buckling, and he takes his hand back, releasing yours to grip your hips, keeping you steady, hard cock pressing against the crack of your ass

“God, dude, leave her alone,” Bokuto sighs, disappointed. You grab Atsumu’s wrists and attempt to push him away, but he holds tight. “We’re all waiting to play in there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Atsumu laughs back airily, arms wrapping around you, your heart still racing as you try to steady your breathing. “Just wanted a moment alone with my number one gal; ‘s that so bad?”

“Sorry, Bo, we’re coming back,” you say, wriggling from his grasp and straightening the box on your head so you can actually see through the damn eyeholes. “Did you need a beer?” You ask, opening the fridge and taking a deep breath.

“Yeah, thanks!” Bokuto laughs, “they’re on their way back,” his voice carries as he walks back down the hall.

A loud smack whips against your ass, and you shriek, fixing the box and turning to glare at the blonde, who just laughs. “Hurry up, box head,” he grins, dipping his fingers into his mouth and sending you a sinful wink.