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itoshi-s · 1 year

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˚ ୨୧ ⋆ 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝒽𝑎𝑟𝑚’𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑦

@katasstrophy requested: rin + hate sex // no lukewarm love v-day event !

wc: 2.2k. cw: nsfw, hurt/no comfort, semi-public sex, toxic relationships, slight dacryphilia & cervix fucking. ꒰ minors + ageless blogs dni ꒱

Rin Itoshi knows how to bring you to tears.

He does it with much more ease than you suppose he'd think, your interactions ending with frustration collecting along your lashes in crystalline drops more often than not.

Then again, it starts to feel like he's well aware of it and ready to use it against you.

He's overwhelming, pressing you into the cement wall without a care for the exposed skin of your back, now burning from friction as he keeps you hoisted up in place. Each forceful thrust punches a bit more air from your lungs than the last and one of Rin's large hands cupping your mouth shut firmly doesn't help in easing the burn sparking deep inside your chest.

Your brows furrow - you're not sure whether it happens from pleasure or frustration - and the look you send the striker's way is nothing but pitiful, Rin realizes.

It's pitiful and miserable and makes his cock twitch inside of you so hard, he almost thinks he's coming already.

"Don't fucking look at me like that," Rin rasps, but his own eyes leer at you with no shame or restraint. The turquoise sits bright around his lust-blown pupils and makes him look all the scarier than he should.

With a low grunt, he bottoms out inside of you again, the flared, oozing head hitting right at your cervix. Your lashes flutter, thick and clumped with mascara that threatens to spill down your cheeks along with the tears that start to steadily stream down, then soak into Rin's skin as he keeps your mouth shut still.

It hurts, but you suppose it has to. It should. You wonder if it's some sick form of further punishment for ever letting Itoshi into your life - as if the whirlwind in your mind and growing void in your chest were not enough already.

The thought sits bitter in the back of your head, even if he's turned your brains to mush, filled your skull with cotton and incoherence. It never quite goes away, but now it makes your grip on Rin's hair tighten, pulling at the roots until you feel him jerk.

He would've doubled over from the sudden rush of pain if it wasn't for the fact that one) he's rutting into you so feverishly, it's almost as if he's leaning the wall along with you, and two) he actually really fucking enjoys it.

He'd rather drop dead - maybe give up the World Cup, even - than admit it, even if it's a state of things that you're both very well aware of already.

You yelp against the clammy hand still pressed to your mouth as soon as Rin's pace quickens. Each forward roll of his hips is calculated, pin-point precise with how he's bullying himself against your now swollen cervix. It sends an electrifying spark up your spine, renders you limp in the athlete's hold as white noise rises between your ears. He could truly fuck you unconscious if he wanted to.

"Rin," it's muffled when you cry, head rolling back, knocking against the wall. Your hips instinctively search for his, eager to take more of him in, as if in defiance of your will and sense of pride.

"Shut up," he forces out, breathy and choked and even from your current angle you're able to notice how his mouth hangs open. He's gasping for air, the unrelenting and brutal pace surely taking a toll on him, even with this ungodly stamina. "Please, fuck, don't- don't."

You've always had it in you to make the world's number one crumble and fall to his knees in front of you - the same pair that could carry him through the field within seconds. He wouldn't mind scarring them, wrenching beyond repair, as long as it was in your name. You tear him up, rip away every layer he's been so diligently wearing since years. An armor of sorts, one that you were once willing to ease off his shoulders and make way for your tender, healing love.

As Rin watches your eyes roll back and feels your nails leave scarlet crescent moons on his back, he starts doubting if the will ever died down.

Would you still allow him to touch you like this if it did? Would you withstand the stark contrast between his usual, daily indifference and harsh, ice cold treatment when he's inside you like this, using every minute he's been given with you?

Rin grunts as he readjusts his grip on your ass, blunt nails digging into the soft flesh as he hauls you up, pulling your hips flush against his own. You're close, he can feel it, from the way your clit throbs untouched against his pelvis to the tale-telling swell of your cunt around his leaking cock.

Why are you still here? Why do you keep whimpering his name like it's all you've ever known?

Dark green strands stick to his forehead, matted with sweat as Rin squeezes his eyes closed, an attempt to shut you out. You and that stupid fucking love-struck look that he knows all to well to ignore when it simmers behind your irises, peering up at him just to spite him.

He groans into the crook of your neck, where you didn't even notice his head has fallen. He's rutting himself inside of you, each thrust knocking your backbone into the wall, bruising you for days to follow. Rin only ever does it because he knows you'll look at the marks later and that the sight will eat you alive.

Your plush, doughy walls squeeze him abruptly, warmth oozing around the very base of Rin's heavy cock, and your lips part in bliss. Your nails rake down his back, eliciting a sound that probably turned out way whinier than he would've liked, and you tug him close, until he has to adjust his balance if he wants to keep fucking into you like that. (He does. God, he will fuck you stupid if it's the last thing he does.)

"Harder," you hiccup, almost meekly, but the way your claws stay cutting through his milky skin makes up for the borderline pleading tone. "Fuck me harder, Rin, can't you?”

He nearly growls by your ear, tongue wet against your pulse point as you can feel his canine press against it, like he wants to rip your throat out. You think he kind of does. "Fuck you." Rin spits, plowing into you deeper. He fills you up to the hilt and stays there for a split second, using the momentum to reach a hand up and wind his fingers around your throat.

Pulling away, he looks at you and relishes in the way your eyes grow unfocused, cheeks heating up from asphyxia. You can tell he wants to sneer at you, hurt you more than any grip on your airways ever could, but his gaze is too feverish, too desperate; it gives him away, his crumbling resolve.

Your legs start to tremble around his waist, soles of your shoes digging into the small of his back. Rin breathes, labored and heavy as your hands wander underneath his sweater, leaving a burn in their wake when your nails drag across the broad of his back.

"You- ha-ah- you like this." you manage to let out, squeaky and airy as Rin's grip on your neck tightens. He's almost single-handedly moving you around as if you're merely a doll in his hold, and the realization makes the coil in your tummy tighten. "You do." you utter in a voice so small, Rin could shatter into pieces. And fuck, he loathes it, he does, he really, really does.

And so,

"I hate you." he gasps, chest rumbling as he sucks in a breath. He's chasing his high, his rhythm growing unsteady and jittery but still, his cock reaches all the swollen hidden spots inside of you. When Rin notices his vision blur slightly with ecstasy, he repeats, afraid his point didn't get across with all the euphoria sneaking into every breath. "I fucking hate you."

You bite back a sob, emotion lodged in your throat. You shake your head, or at least attempt to, and feel Rin's cock swell inside of you, twitching every so often as the impending climax licks at his spine. Your fingers twitch to wipe at the drool shining on his chin, clinging to the lips you can only dream of properly kissing, or touching at all.

You want to ridicule him, point it out - make him feel as small as only his brother ever could. A delusional part of you tries to convince you it's what he deserves, for putting you through so much sorrow and longing that your heart will never heal from. But you can’t bring yourself to do it. Sadly, there’s one simple truth about you, and why you’re hurting the way you are:

You hate Rin Itoshi for the same reason you cry for him. The deeply unfair, persistent, inalienable fear of being loved, the one that made him shut out everyone else.

Your breathing quickens and Rin's hand shakes around your neck, grip lethal. Electricity starts to roll up your spine in time with your lover's telling groan, guttural and choked.

"You don't."

Rin's pretty when he falls apart. Your words strike the right spot, frail and vulnerable, and it sends him crumbling down. His eyes roll backwards, hair falling on his forehead and jaw locking in pleasure, every muscle in his tall frame taut as he rides out his orgasm. He's never looked this large yet vulnerable at once.

This time, his face falters in a different way, and you wish you could make out the emotion that displays on his features, but your own climax takes up every ounce of your being. You cling to him, moans laced through with incoherent blabbers of his name, and for a second you forget all about your surroundings. Half-minded, Rin tucks your head into the crook of his neck and God, he's sure he starts coming all over again when you bite at his shoulder forcefully to keep quiet. It hurts like hell, even through the thick wool of his turtleneck. What stings more is the realization that he will like looking back at the mark later.

You're not entirely sure how much time passes until the heat dies down, your limbs no longer fuzzy, lungs not feeling like sandpaper anymore. Rin catches on before you do, though, and knocks you back into awareness when he carefully yet swiftly eases you down on the ground. (He pulls the hem of your skirt down haphazardly, and hopes that you, too, think that it's just muscle memory by this point.)

Heavy breathing resonates in the training facility corridor, almost bouncing off the gray walls. With each next labored sound, it only seems to grow even louder, overwhelming to the point you just hold your breath in momentarily until the erratic jitter of your heart slows down.

It always only ever ends like this. It's more of a silent agreement between the two of you than anything else. You pull your panties back on and wince slightly when some of Rin's cum soils it immediately upon putting it on; you tidy your hair a little and wipe the fallout from under your bleary eyes, then check for your office keys, mind already moving onto work, where it should've been all this time.

Rin fixes his sweater, pulls his boxers back up, then does his belt. He swings the training bag over his shoulder and runs a hand through his bangs, pushing them out of his eyes as he glances towards you. The blank expression is back, splayed over the features that held so much emotion for you just mere moments ago. Hatred, disdain, longing - you don't care whatever it is.

You yearn for the way Rin showed you anything at all.

Twirling the keys around your finger, you peer up at him, but it seems like your gaze focuses anywhere but at Rin. You don't speak much afterwards, perhaps both too afraid to let everything spill out, but it's not like you hold proper conversations anywhere else either. It's bitter, the taste sitting on the back of your tongue when you think of how different things were, but came crashing down what seemed like overnight.

If Rin feels alike, then he doesn't let it show. He waits with you - for what, God only knows - and stands there, tall and broad, eyes unwavering.

"You coming to the game tomorrow?" He cuts through the silence, eventually, and you don't want to look up at him again. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing your gaze spark up with feelings of hope that seemingly just runs free inside of you by this point.

You keep your eyes somewhere behind his shoulder instead, humming under your breath, as if in thought even though your mind's made up already.

"No," you say softly. The gentle tune of your voice makes Rin's stomach churn. It's almost like you, too, start to sound indifferent to it all, building the same wall he's put up to keep you away. "No, I don't think so."

If only you would have glanced at him, even in shameless curiosity. But you don't, and you miss the way his gaze softens in what could be letdown, only to harden split seconds afterwards.

Rin fixes you with one last look, gaze lingering from head to toe before he eventually turns on his heel. Only then do you focus your gaze on his back as he heads down the corridor, then pushes down on the handle.

He almost wavers in his spot. Then, before the door can fall shut behind him, he regards you one last time.

"Good."

#srb

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