the small, crowded college apartment you share with miya atsumu has proved over and over again to be the biggest annoyance of your life.
the leaky sink, the wobbly table, or even the stupid balcony that you would consider cute if it wasn’t for the fact that it gives the entire town a complete view of what’s going on inside your apartment.
all piling up to be a great bane of your existence, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you hated it more than atsumu does.
this mess of an apartment that you both call home, cluttered with your college books and his sport equipments, you don’t know how the two of you could continue to live like this.
( and it’s not like you guys can move and find a bigger place to live either, the two of you are broke enough as it is. )
so without the options of getting a new apartment or literally incinerating every single thing inside the flat — you and atsumu do the responsible thing:
putting on old songs on a stereo, and deep cleaning the entire place!
the two of you start small; taking out boxes you never got around to unpacking and deciding to organize whatever it was that was in there.
(of course neither of you took into account just how many boxes you both ignored to unpack, and now, seeing as how the apartment is cluttered with stacks and rows of moving boxes, you realize how it might have been a tiny mistake to start there.)
“ok pause!” you yell from your side of the room, calling out as you pull something out from one of the cardboard boxes, “look what i found!”
and not a second later, atsumu sprints to your side - his hair a complete mess, in his old inarizaki jersey shorts and a t-shirt that’s too old to be worn outside - he has his own box of items in his grip.
“what’re those?” he drops the box he carried onto the floor, walking closer to you as you offer your hand out.
on your palm, you hold out two boxes of the colored diamond ring candies that almost double as a lollipop — ring pops!
the boxes they come in are dusty and a bit crumpled on the edges, but the smile you give atsumu as you hand him one is unmatched.
he takes one from you, “what are these?
“okay so like these are rings,” you move closer to him, “but get this the diamonds are actually made of candy.”
atsumu rolls his eyes, shoving your shoulder playfully as you hold back a conniving grin.
“i’m not 8.” he tells you, focusing on his box of candy.
you cross your arms, “i’m not 8 either.”
but before the two of you could say anything else, he’s hurrying to open his box of candy, and you’re hurrying to open your box of candy.
“what flavor did you get?” he looks over to your unwrapped candy ring, stars in his eyes.
you smile widely, “grape!”
and he scoffs, “i got red - that’s not even a flavor!”
“that’s what you get for forgetting about them,” you shake your head, clicking your tongue over and over again in the tune of an ‘i told you so’.
atsumu frowns, and he’s quicker than you, so you don’t anticipate it when he grabs the -your- candy ring from your hand, and before you could react, he shoves the entire piece of candy inside his mouth.
(plastic handle and all.)
a silence falls in the air. atsumu looks at you with a proud smirk on his face, and you take a long time to blink.
“tsumu.” you call to him.
and with the piece of candy still in his mouth, he says, “ywes?”
you shake your head, “i’m gonna kill you dead.”
needless to say, that’s what begun the hours of chasing around the two of you did all throughout the entire flat.
boxes and stray pieces of clothes still scattered around the floor so the constant ‘ow!’ and ‘agh!’ as either of you take turns tripping and falling fills the quietness of the air.
atsumu insists to take an hour for a pizza break, and you insist to take an hour for a lay-on-the-sofa-and-do-nothing break.
the next hour you decide to put away more boxes, you’re sitting on the floor, opening through piles and piles of paper bags and unopened seals tucked away in the crevices of the cardboard.
sometimes you see old souvenirs, sometimes there are mementos, and other times there are photographs.
you wipe away the sweat on your temple with the back of your palm, taking a closer look on one of the picture frames you fished out of a box.
“god, we have to go to one of these.” you say aloud, and atsumu - sitting by your side, rummaging through his own box of nonsense - looks over your shoulder.
he tilts his head, “okay, i have no idea what i’m looking at.”
“it’s an informal debate!” you shove the picture frame closer to his face.
and he rolls his eyes, “you say that like a normal person would know what that is.”
“okay, loser.” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest, “it’s literally just a normal debate but the crowd gets to chime in with their opinions.”
your husband looks unimpressed.
and you grin, “sometimes people throw stuff.”
“okay,” and atsumu scooches way closer to you, taking the frame from your hand, “you have to take me to one of those.”
“hmm.” you hum slightly, a grin breaking through your face as you see him so invested in the photo.
he hands the photo back to you.
you chime, “one time this person threw fries at the speaker because they didn’t agree with what they were saying.”
“huh.” atsumu smiles, and he looks at you, knowingly, “so were the fries cold?”
and you grin, “nah, i just didn’t want to eat them anymore.”
“now we definitely have to go, i wanna see you throw food at people with stupid opinions.”
“it’s a date.”
atsumu kisses you lightly, smiling against your lips as you don’t pull away from him.
this entire day has been the two of you just walking around the mess of the apartment, cleaning up what you can, making even bigger messes by accident, and sharing stories about the things you’ve brought along together.
there are stacks of books on one of the old wobbly tables and it’s when atsumu decided to make you flash cards to help you study for your finals.
there’s a huge dent on one of the walls of your bedroom that you opted to cover up with a framed picture of you guys — the dent was made by a volleyball ball when he tried to teach you how to serve.
and there’s the perfectly good dining table covered with books and clothes and bags and old cartridges of hair dye because atsumu knows you prefer to sit with him on the floor.
the mess of an apartment that you two call a home.
atsumu kisses you deeper, and he feels you smile against his lips.
you laugh, “i can taste my ring pop from your mouth, and i resent you for it.”
the day is almost over, the white skies slowly being painted by a pink and orange as the sun sets, and the balcony doors are left wide open to let the summer breeze in.
you lay your head on atsumu’s chest as he lays his back on the hardwood floors.
sunlight seeping in to fill your cluttered apartment, now seeming even messier than before, and you feel the fast pacing of atsumu’s heart.
“how have we been cleaning for hours and it still looks like a maze in here?” you sigh loudly, keeping your head on his chest.
atsumu murmurs, “i think we’re cursed.”
and you tilt your head up slightly to him, “do we move?”
“too much work.” he groans, “stay on the floor.”
there’s a bubble of laughter coming up your chest, and maybe if you weren’t so tired, you’d actually have the strength to laugh at that.
you rest your head back against his chest, smiling, “the next time we do this—”
“there’s gonna be a next time?” atsumu groans louder.
and you get up slightly to turn, laying on your belly to see a better view of him, and he only feigns a dramatic frown once he sees that you’re finally looking at him.
your hand goes to his forehead, pushing back the hairs that clung to his skin with sweat, and you smile.
“next time we do this,” you continue, “we sweet talk aran and the others to help us.”
atsumu seems to be chipper, and he props himself up on his elbows, “do you think we can sweet talk them into doing all the work?”
“well, we still have that wedding gift ‘anything you want’ favor coupon suna gave us,” you laugh lightly, remembering how ridiculous of an idea it seemed at first.
(atsumu said he was being lazy. suna turned to you and told you not to marry him.)
“woah.” atsumu nods, “but do we really wanna use our one great favor from suna on having him clean our apartment?”
you look at atsumu, and atsumu looks back at you.
there’s a second stuck in the air.
you snap your fingers, “we have him clean the balcony too!”
and atsumu, stars in his eyes, pride in his chest, nods his head slowly, “i taught you well.”
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pairing: massage therapist! hinata shoyo x fem! reader
cw/tw: sex on the job, oral + fingering (f → receiving), creampie, hints of hand kink and praise kink
a/n: this is for @indyura’s but- i'm at work! collab <3
The outside of the spa is unassuming. A basic facade you’ve seen a hundred times at various places that advertise themselves as luxury, but when you open the door you find that it actually is as upscale as advertised.
The lights are gently diffused, bathing everything in soft, bright light as the gentle sound of rain and nature is quietly filtered into the lobby. The furniture is mostly green and white, accented only with statement pieces of dark, rich wood. There’s an artificial waterfall installed directly into the wall, softly splashing away next to an array of water dispensers, made of clear glass to show off the fruit infusing the water.
“Hello, welcome!” the receptionist says as you step up to the counter, their tone is as soothing as the atmosphere of the lobby, “How can I help you?”
“Hi, I have an appointment today,” you give your name and wave the little gift card before you set it down, “And a gift card.”
A friend of yours had heard you complain about your back aching one too many times. If you won’t do anything about it, they’d said as they shoved the gift card into your hand, I will!
“Of course,” they start to type away at their computer, scanning your card before saying, “You’re good for a thirty minute Swedish massage today.”
You nod, not exactly sure what that means— a massage is a massage, right?
“Do you have a preference?” the receptionist asks, looking up at you expectantly.
“Would you like a male or female massage therapist?” they clarify.
“Oh,” you pause for a moment to think, “No preference, I guess.”
“Alright,” they say with a smile, “Go down the hall to the first door on the right and your masseur will be right with you.”
You nod, “Thank you,” then make your way to the room.
Oooh, masseur, you think, hoping he’s at least cute. You do a courtesy knock at the door, just in case someone’s inside. When no one answers, you open up and step inside
The color scheme of the room is the same as the lobby, the lights just as gentle too. You notice an essential oil diffuser, glowing with color but not releasing any vapor, next to a miniature water feature gently burbling in the corner, water endlessly falling over smooth grey stones.
There's another door across the room, a discreet restroom sign on display. You drop your things onto a chair by the water feature, double checking that your phone is on silent before you set it down. You’re not in the room for more than a minute before you hear a knock.
“Come in!” you chirp.
The masseur who pokes his head in is just as you’d hoped: cute. Well, when he steps inside you can see that he’s not just cute, he’s frustratingly handsome. Not incredibly tall, but that doesn’t matter when you see his sunny smile accentuating his gently tanned and freckled cheeks, framed by hair as bright as summer. His uniform shirt is tight on him, outlining the thickness of his arms and torso attractively.
“I’m Hinata, I’ll be working on you today. Nice to meet you!” he says as he shuts the door. When he comes in close to shake your hand, you’re hit with his fresh, clean scent. Floral and citrus, bergamot maybe? Whatever it is, you instantly love it.
“Hi,” you give him your name as you smile back, “Nice to meet you too.”
You watch him start what you assume to be his routine— putting on quiet music and setting out towels— as he asks, “Have you ever had a professional massage done before?”
“No,” you reply as he starts to fill the diffuser with water, “I’m really only here cause I got one as a gift, but I’ve always wanted to.”
Hinata turns to you with two different scents in his hand, tilting his head in a silent question. You point towards the one you prefer and he nods, “Good choice,” he pours a few drops in and starts the little machine, “Well, here’s what I’ll have you do: I’ll step out and let you get undressed, you only have to take off your underwear if you feel comfortable! Lay face down on the table with this—” he gestures with the thin sheet on the table, “—covering you up to your hips, and I’ll come back in a minute so we can get started.”
Hinata waits for you to nod before he slips out, leaving you to get ready. You fold your clothes, taking only a moment to decide on keeping your panties on or off— definitely on. With your bra neatly tucked between your shirt, you clamber onto the massage table, shimmying so you’re centered. Your chest smushes against the comfortable vinyl, warming it with your body. You reach down to pull the soft sheet over your legs, making sure to cover your butt fully.
Right as you’re adjusting to the face pillow, Hinata’s knocking on the door again, not opening the door until he hears your voice telling him you’re decent. You listen to the door shut behind him before he dims the lights slowly.
“Ready to go?” he asks as he comes to the side of the table, one hand lightly brushing your shoulder.
“Yea, of course.”
He taps your shoulder with a soft, “Good,” before he’s pumping lotion into his hands, rubbing them together above your back.
Hinata starts gently, laying his warm hands across the tops of your shoulder blades, letting you feel their broad warmth. You sigh as he smooths them down, following the curve of your spine. His palms glide against the back of your arms, his fingertips grazing along your ribs sets your heart beating a little faster.
You can’t be blamed for the way your mind wanders, you’re sure anyone who gets a massage for the first time revels in the quiet intimacy, even if it’s paid for. It doesn’t help that Hinata is so handsome, with broad hands so pretty you can’t help but imagine them on places other than your back.
Hinata stops for just a second, only to rub his fingers with some more lotion before he lays his hands on you again. Instead of just gently rubbing your skin, he digs his fingertips down into your tense muscle.
It’s loud, you’re unable to cough or sneeze or do anything to pretend it was anything other than what it was. An obscene moan, more fit for an adult film than a spa.
“Oh, my God,” you sputter, pinpricks of embarrassment blooming hot across your cheeks and neck, “I am so sorry!”
Hinata isn’t perturbed at all, his hands just keep up their steady motion, working the mildly scented lotion into your back with practiced strokes, “Don’t worry about it!” he says cheerily, “It happens all the time, especially with first timers like you.”
You’re hardly comforted by that, glad your face is hidden in a pillow so he can’t see your look of mortification. The shame is brief though, easily erased by Hinata melting away the stress stored in your aching muscles, soothing you with heated, slippery hands. You can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so at peace, so boneless and airy, you’ll have to remember to thank your friend with something really nice.
You lose track of time, feeling like the thirty minutes are stretching into infinity as you drift off, only to snap back to attention when Hinata’s fingers slide down the small of your back. You have to suck in a sharp breath to hold back another moan, his fingertips seem to be able to find your most sensitive spots with uncanny precision.
Another sound joins the calming symphony of white noise, the tinkling of wind chimes louder than anything else playing. You blink, bleary eyed, trying not to whine when Hinata takes away his hands.
He whispers your name in a soft voice as he shuts off the alarm, “Get up whenever you’re ready, sweetheart, take your time.”
You lie there for a minute more, gathering the courage to sit up and leave the comfort of the warm massage table. Hinata notices the moment you shift, his hands back on you to help you off the table, one at your elbow and one at your waist. He gives you a smile and wraps one of the spa’s fluffy robes around your shoulders, pointedly not looking down at your naked chest. You’re almost disappointed, but you shake off the thought quickly, this is just his job.
“So,” he starts, voice still quiet, “How was your first massage?”
You hum happily, giving him a little smile as you reply, “It was really great, you did an amazing job. My back feels so much better, thank you!”
Hinata’s grin grows, it almost looks like he’s preening because of your compliment, “Glad to hear it!”
He nudges the slider on the wall up, the room filling with light makes it easier for you to shake off the sleepiness and stick your arms through the robe’s sleeves.
“Oh, before I go, I have something for you,” Hinata says as he fiddles with something in a drawer, “Here!”
He hands you a paper loyalty card, Buy five massages, get your sixth free! it says in loopy but still easy to read font. He’s already punched out the first shape, a little heart you try not to read into, you only have four more massages to go.
“I hope to see you again,” he adds quickly before he leaves you to get dressed.
“Me too,” you say to the closed door, your finger tracing the edge of the card.
✰ ✰ ✰
You can already feel the divot this little venture is going to make in your credit card statement.
This is how they hook you in, you think as you pull into the parking lot, get a hot person to do massages and boom! Repeat clients, just like that.
Yet here you are, eager to see your hot masseur again, about to solidify yourself as a repeat client. You check in at reception for another appointment with Hinata, only booked after waiting a respectable week and a half even though you desperately wanted to see him sooner. A week and a half filled with fantasies of his skillful hands roaming all over you plaguing your mind.
You’ve picked something a little different for today. A little more flashy, a little less hands on action, a hot stone massage. You’re not really sure what they’re good for, but the photos you’ve seen are aesthetically pleasing and the internet says it’s worth trying, at least once.
You’re directed to a different room this time, the last door on the left at the end of the hall. Hinata’s already waiting for you inside, carefully fishing the black stones out of their warming pot.
“Hey!” he greets enthusiastically, giving you a little wave over his shoulder as you shut the door.
Guessing you’re coming into your appointment blind, Hinata pipes up to explain the process, “I’ll walk you through it,” he gestures to the array of smooth basalt, “I’ll apply some oil to help the stones glide easier on your skin since I’m going to be using them more than my hands to massage you. The heat feels really good on sore muscles, I promise.”
You start the same routine as always: undress, lay down, wait for Hinata to work his magic.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his words accented by the soft clicks of stone against stone in his hands, “This shouldn’t hurt.”
You feel the back of his hand first, dragging down your shoulders to slowly introduce you to the hot stone.
You let out a quiet sigh, “Feels perfect.”
Hinata murmurs, “That’s a good girl,” before he’s off to work.
You feel the ghost of his fingertips as he drags the stones along your muscles, slowly letting you get acclimated to the heat. Up and down your back, the smooth texture of the basalt accentuated by the massage oil easing the way across your skin.
You tense when he reaches your ribs, even as the pressure he’s applying gets lighter. You gasp quietly when the touch falls lower, grazing the sides of your breasts. You swear he lingers there, maybe it’s just your own wishful thinking, either way you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from making an embarrassing sound.
The rest of the massage passes without anything too eventful, you lose track of time like you do with every visit. The heat and Hinata’s quiet humming lulls you into a half-asleep state, eyes closed as you relax and linger between fantasy and reality.
The stones still haven’t fully cooled when the timer goes off, leaving your skin cold when Hinata takes them off your body. He deposits the used basalt into an empty bowl and sets it to the side before he checks in with you.
“How d’you feel?” he asks as he helps you sit up.
“Really nice,” you reply, reaching for the familiar robe in his hands.
Hinata hums, “You did well.”
“Hinata,” you giggle airly, “All I did was lay there and let you work.”
He gives you a little chuckle, not trying to refute your point as he makes his way out, “Have a great rest of your day, I hope to see you again.”
He adjusts the collar of your robe before he leaves, his fingertips delicately graze your neck for the briefest of moments then he’s gone. You roll your shoulders with a satisfied smile, already looking forward to the temperature play fantasies you’ll conjure up during the week. You get dressed, idly wondering if there are any massage treatments involving ice.
✰ ✰ ✰
“You booked an aromatherapy massage,” Hinata points out cheerfully as he sets out assorted glass containers, “Did you have any particular scents in mind?”
You give a sheepish little laugh and shake your head, “Not really! I, uh, just picked it without really knowing what it means.”
“It’s really just a regular massage, but I’ll be using oil, obviously, instead of the usual lotion.”
You nod, “Got it! Well, I don’t have a preference for any oil in particular so…”
“Dealer’s choice?” he asks, holding up a deep green bottle.
“Sounds good to me,” you reply, shrugging off your jacket.
“Want me to step out so you can get changed?”
You drape your jacket across the back of the chair, your back towards Hinata as you think for a moment, “No,” you murmur, already starting to pull your shirt up over your head, “I don’t mind.”
The sound Hinata makes is somewhere between a cough and a choke, you guess this isn’t something he does often with clients. You bite your tongue to suppress a little laugh, you don’t feel bad. If he can get you worked up, albeit unknowingly, during a massage, what’s the harm in teasing, just a little?
You fold your top and bottom before laying them on the chair. Hinata’s back is to you when you turn around, he doesn’t bother moving until he hears you settled on the table. Hinata is as diligent as always, every so often asking if you’re alright, if the smells aren’t giving you a headache.
And, as always, time passes too quickly and Hinata’s pulling away, saying goodbye and leaving you in the quiet room. Your only solace is, when you tuck your nose into the collar of your jacket, you realize you smell like Hinata.
✰ ✰ ✰
Today’s massage is one Hinata himself suggested after seeing the way your shoulders and lower back get after a week at work. A deep tissue massage, pretty straight forward but Hinata insists on briefing you on the process anyway.
“First, I’ll warm you up, just like a usual massage. Then, I’ll use some force, more than I have before. But you’ve gotta tell me if it hurts, okay?”
“Sure, you got it!”
Hinata’s hands spread lotion along your back, rubbing you down until he deems you ready. He cups the back of your neck for a moment before he presses his fingers in, dragging the weight of them along. You wince, a whine of discomfort pulled from you at the pressure on your shoulder, but Hinata doesn’t let up.
“Shh, baby,” he coos, rubbing his fingers in tight circles until you relax, “That’s it, good girl.”
You whine again, this time from the way his words, his voice does to your body. You stop yourself from squirming, determined to not let on how there’s heat pooling between your legs.
“Sorry,” Hinata apologizes in a whisper, “I should’ve known you were sensitive.”
“Ngh, it’s…” you take a deep breath as he moves to your opposite shoulder, “It’s okay. It kind of felt good.”
“Yea?” he asks, something about how breathless he is almost has you whining again.
You let out an mhm, wondering if you could mention you don’t mind a little pain without being obvious that you’re trying to come onto him.
He keeps working, applying pressure in slow, deep strokes that have you biting back more sudden noises, only a few sharp gasps occasionally spilling out. You’d never realized how much tension your body holds, not until he’s melted it away.
One of Hinata’s hands curls around your ankle, the other gently smooths down your opposite calf as he asks, “Ready to turn over?”
Hinata keeps his eyes off your chest as he covers you with a towel, very professional outside of the light blush dusting his cheeks. He sets off again, massaging your collarbone and the top of your sternum. You melt into the table as he keeps at it, down your torso until he reaches your legs.
Your eyes slip shut as you imagine him parting them, kissing along every inch before he finally touches where you’ve been aching for him. You try to shake the thought, but it lingers, your body responding to the fantasy of Hinata’s perfect hands getting you off.
You do your best not to squirm, he doesn’t seem to notice as he moves onto your arms, mindlessly humming along to the soft melody playing. Hinata works all the way down to your fingertips, he even weaves your fingers together at one point. You know it’s a simple part of the routine but it has your chest tight with fondness.
“Looks like we have some extra time today,” he muses as he rolls your wrist, his thumbs kneading your palm, “Do you need more attention somewhere?”
It takes a moment for your brain to catch up, your thoughts still honey slow with bliss, “Uh, my thighs, I guess,” you offer thoughtlessly. You know they’re only tense because you keep squeezing them together to suppress your arousal.
For a moment, it sounds like Hinata chokes on air, but he’s quick to cover it up, “Sure! Sounds good!”
You know you’re covered, you’ve kept your underwear on, but you’re suddenly aware that he may see a damp patch caused by him, by his broad, sure hands all over your body. He folds one of your legs, planting your foot on the table as he starts to massage you at the knee. His touch crawls up the outside of your thigh, up up, up, until his fingertips are brushing against your panties at your hip. The process starts over again at your knee, but now his touch is between your legs.
The air in the room suddenly thickens when he reaches your inner thigh, pulling a soft, sweet cry from your lips. Hinata falters for only a heartbeat, his tongue coming out to quickly swipe against his bottom lip, before he continues. His movements are slow, deliberate, kneading into you hard enough to have you breathing heavier. Your lips part with a quiet gasp when you feel him start to rub the juncture of your hip and thigh, dangerously close to your panties.
You feel his hands stutter again before he’s massaging you there, grazing against the fabric with every gentle stroke. You’re sure he can feel the heat of your cunt, the back of his knuckles ghost along the front of your panties when you squirm, there’s no way he isn't doing that on purpose, growing bolder and bolder.
Right as you feel him start to hook his finger into the side of your underwear, the gentle alarm starts to ring, signaling the end of your allotted time. It startles you both enough to make you jump, Hinata's hands swiftly pulling back and you jolt up, as if you’d been caught in the act. It takes all of you not to pout, you have to bite your tongue to curb your disappointment.
“Um, I’ll see you at your next appointment,” Hinata coughs, his voice a little pitchy and rough, “I’ll let you get dressed now. H–Have a good rest of your day!”
You can’t even manage to say goodbye before he’s bolting out the door, leaving you suddenly cold, a persistent throbbing between your legs, right where he was about to touch. You flop back onto the table with a deep sigh, squeezing your thighs together and trying to picture what it would’ve been like if the stupid alarm hadn’t gone off.
You can only imagine how good his thick fingers would feel curling inside you, prepping you to take his cock. You bite back a whine as you wonder if he’d take his time, slowly teasing you until you’re begging, or if he’d be the desperate one, asking so sweetly like he always does. You can almost hear it, is this okay, does that feel good?
There’s no use waiting around, fantasizing will only get you more frustrated, you’re begrudgingly rolling off the table to get dressed. Next time, you’ll ask for the longest appointment they have, a full hour and a half, no room for interruptions.
✰ ✰ ✰
“Hello, I have an appointment today with Hinata!”
The receptionist greets you by name now, smiling apologetically as they inform you, “I’m sorry, Hinata unfortunately isn’t here today. We have someone else covering his shift, is that alright?”
You try to not let your smile falter, hiding your disappointment as best you can to reply, “Oh, that’s okay!”
They nod and type something onto the computer before they take your card and punch out the last shape. They hand it back to you with a smile, “Looks like your next massage is free, congrats! Go ahead to the same room on the right, Oikawa will be right with you.”
You do the same routine as you have the previous three times, disrobing and laying on the table before you close your eyes and wait. Oikawa is lovely; pretty and funny, his massage skills seem just as good as Hinata’s, but you’re not left feeling the same way you do when the redhead’s hands have been all over you.
There’s no warmth in your cheeks or low in your gut no matter where his hands end up, and not once did you have to hold back a moan. As you put on your comfortable athletic clothes again, you realize that the spark you felt with Hinata might go a little deeper than you initially realized.
You shake your head and pour yourself a plastic cup of the spa’s cold, fruity water for the road, trying to ignore the dull ache in your chest. You can only hope that he feels the same way about you. You wave goodbye to the receptionist as you push the door open with your hip, already thinking about your next visit.
✰ ✰ ✰
“So, what kind of massage would you like today?”
You’ve cashed in your punch card, one free massage with your favorite masseur. You hope this is a good day to make a move, any more visits to the spa and you’ll be massaged out of house and home. You’ve done stupider things for less attractive men though, you’ll live.
“Dealer’s choice,” you say with a smile.
You swear there's a flush to his cheeks beneath the tan when he suggests, “How about a full body oil massage?”
The mental image of his warm, large hands slippery with oil gliding up your inner thigh has your mouth dry. You nod, not trusting your voice to come out steady. Hinata turns his back to you, setting up the diffuser with your favorite scent as you undress and lay down, your hands reaching back to cover your butt with a towel.
“I’d like to… apologise for how I behaved last time I saw you,” Hinata starts, “I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay!” you interrupt, “If… if I hadn’t liked it, I would’ve said something, really.”
“Okay,” he hums behind you after a beat, “Let’s get started.”
You listen to the quiet glug of oil being deposited onto his hands, the scent of it understated, sweet in a way that isn’t headache inducing. No essential oils today, but hopefully you’ll end up leaving with his scent on you anyway. You decide to pillow your head on your arms today, wanting to watch him out of the corner of your eye as he touches you.
As usual, he starts at your neck, gently digging his sturdy fingers into the skin above your spine, rubbing soothing circles there before he trails off to your shoulders. Your eyes shut as you lose yourself to the familiar feeling of him rubbing you down, loosening knots in your muscles you didn’t even know were there.
You could almost drift off to sleep, if not for the incessant throbbing between your legs, you can feel the wetness gathering there growing with every passing second. Hinata’s finished with your arms now, kneading down your back, only stopping to reapply oil as needed.
His movements nudge the towel barely covering your ass downward, revealing nothing but bare skin underneath. You can hear his sharp intake of breath before he lets out a soft groan, “You’re not…”
You shake your head, the motion squishing your cheek onto your arm. You almost open your eyes, almost lift your head to ask if it’s alright— you know it technically is, you’ve read the spa’s rules— but Hinata’s hands on you again keeps you quiet.
You swear he works on your thighs and calves three times faster than normal because before you know it he’s murmuring, “Let’s get you turned over.”
Hinata helps you flip over, cradling your head as you lay back down. Normally he starts right where he left off, you’ve memorized the feeling of his hands curling around your ankles well, down to the fingerprints, but today he skips the front of your legs entirely. His warm palms settle on your hips, thick fingers massaging the oil up and onto your stomach.
Your hands uselessly clench at your sides when he moves upward, skimming your navel and finding the sensitive skin below your breasts. He lingers there for a moment before he takes the plunge and cups you fully, bringing the oil-slick pads of his fingertips to circle your areolas. You gasp, your chest expanding only serving to push your tits into his hands even more.
“Hinata…” you pant as he plays with you, starting to gently tug your nipples into stiff peaks. You moan and watch him start to blush, the red creeping up from under his shirt to bring color to his cheeks and parted lips.
He bites his bottom lip before he whines your name, his eyes unable to move from your tits in his hands, “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” you nod, about to repeat yourself but you’re stopped by his lips meeting yours.
You whine into his mouth when he pinches one of your nipples, his other hand smoothly gliding down until he finds himself between your legs. Hinata’s fingers rest on your mound, right below your stomach. You part your legs for him, silently encouraging, but that’s not enough for him. He pulls back from the kiss, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he speaks.
“Can I touch you here?” he asks, his honey eyes flash with eagerness and desire as they flit from your lips to your eyes.
You tilt your hips up with a soft mewl, “Please, Hinata.”
“The doors are locked and we have time, so don't worry,” he says, kissing the corner of your mouth before he continues, “Just relax, yea? Let me take care of you, just don't be too loud.”
Hinata adjusts your legs, draping one over the side as he folds the other, exposing your pussy to the cool air. You expect him to touch you right away, but first his slick fingers trail up your inner thighs, one leg after another before they finally reach the apex of your legs. He gently parts your slick folds, the pads of his fingers sliding up and down until they find your clit.
“You’re so beautiful,” Hinata breathes, watching your tits move in time with your erratic breaths, “Been waiting for so long to touch you.”
You let out a pleased hum when he slides one finger into you, “You’ve been touching me since we met,” you joke.
Hinata chuckles as he dips his head down to nip at your pulse point, “Not like this though, not like how I’ve been wanting to. Very unprofessional of me.”
You manage to let out a breathy laugh in response, only to be cut off by your own sharp gasp, forced out of you by Hinata pushing another finger inside you. He pumps his fingers in and out languidly, the rhythm of his hands as sure and steady as they’ve always been. You let your eyes flutter closed, focusing on the drag of the heel of his palm against your clit. One of your nipples is suddenly sucked into his mouth, making you tighten around his fingers with a quiet sob.
“Oh, fuck…” you rasp, one of your hands coming up to tangle in his bright hair.
He hums against you, his other hand reaching up to gently play with your unattended nipple. He eventually pops off your nipple to quiet your moans with a kiss, his pace speeding up as his fingers curl to find your g-spot. Your thighs tense when he brushes against it, the gasp you let out bleeds into a whine when he takes his fingers out of you.
“Sorry, baby,” he groans, low and deep in his chest, “But, fuck, I have to taste you.”
Before you can process the words, he’s wrapping his arms around your thighs and dragging you down the table, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he kneels, “Hinata!” you gasp.
“Shoyo” he corrects as he kisses the tender spot where your thigh meets your pelvis, “Call me Shoyo.”
You feel his hot breath ghost against your folds as he parts them with his thumbs. You lift yourself up on one elbow to look at him, a surprised moan falling from your lips at the obvious rapture on his flushed face, his eyes focused on your exposed cunt.
Your thighs try to close around his head as you cover your mouth with your hand, “Shoyo, ‘s embarrassing!”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he whispers, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for a moment, “Your pussy’s perfect.”
Hinata’s golden eyes close as he lowers his mouth to press a kiss right on your clit, his thumbs sliding down to your leaking hole. You gasp and lay back down, trying not to kick your legs out as he starts to lap at you, gentle enough to make it feel like he’s simply making out with your cunt. You can’t help but tremble when Hinata moans, an honest-to-God moan, loud and sustained like he’s the one receiving pleasure, it’s almost pornographic.
You’re close already, having him finger you open for who knows how long has you keyed up, sensitive. He picks up the pace, sliding two fingers back into you as he purses his lips around your clit, suckling at it hard enough to have you arching off the table.
“Cum f’ me,” he mumbles against you, unwilling to move more than a hair’s width away for even a moment.
You nod, eyes scrunched tight, your body obeying under his skilful hands and mouth. Hinata works you through your orgasm, his fingers curling in time with each flick of his tongue as you keen, trailing off into a gasp of his name, your body tensing for a final time before relaxing again.
Hinata kisses your clit again before he stands, chuckling quietly at the way you twitch. He comes around to where he was standing before to kiss you. You moan at the taste of your cum on his tongue, your arms loosely wrapping around his neck as his hand pets your thigh.
“Shoyo,” you breathe after you break the kiss, “Fuck me.”
His reaction is instant, a strangled sound gets caught in his throat before he swallows and asks, “Yea?”
You nod, your thighs rubbing together at the hungry look in his eyes, “Please, Sho, need it…”
“Yea, baby, of course,” he says, his tone absolutely debauched as he tugs his pants down.
You barely get a glance at his cock— to be fair, seeing it bob up against his stomach is all it takes to have another wave of heat rushing between your legs— before he's turning you over onto your stomach. You see his shirt sail to the floor out of the corner of your eye as he climbs onto the table behind you.
“Just relax,” Hinata instructs, “I’ll take care of you, make you feel good. I promise.”
He takes your hip with one hand, angling you upwards ever so slightly so he can glide his cock along your slit, both of you groaning when his cock head catches along your hole. You muffle your whine into your palm as best you can when he starts to slide into you.
You’re not sure how long he is, but the girth of him stretching you out already has you keening. The weight of him— his thighs pressed to the backs of yours, his hand squeezing down on your hip, even the heaviness of his cock inside you— has you melting into the massage table. Eyes open but unfocused, not truly taking in the twinkling tea lights and miniature water features anymore; all the information your brain is receiving right now is Shoyo.
Hinata bottoms out, his hips gently meeting yours making you both gasp. You’re so sensitive you can even feel his happy trail and the trimmed hair above his cock scratching against you when he fully lays his body on yours. Your elbows are tucked into the crook of his as he grabs your wrists and hides his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin before he kisses it.
“You feel s-so, so fuckin’ good,” he sighs, his voice vibrating from his chest to your back.
“Sho,” you whisper, the sound caught in your throat, “Move, please.”
You squeeze your pussy around him, pushing your hips back slightly to encourage him. Every fibre of your being is so on edge you swear you can feel his cock twitch in response. His hand on your hip grips tighter as he moans your name, trying to keep you in place as he pulls his cock out. Your body mourns the loss of him inside you for only a moment before he’s filling you again, and again and again.
Slow, almost agonizingly deep strokes that leave you stupid, mouth hanging open against your palm even though hardly any noise spills out. He steals the breath from you each time his hips meet yours, you can feel your ass jiggle with each of his thrusts. One of his hands comes off your wrist to hold your throat for a moment, long enough to have another bolt of heat to shoot right to your clit, but he moves it to grab at your jaw, to turn your face to his for a kiss.
He slips his tongue into your mouth with a moan, his hips stilling to simply rock against you. You shudder, feeling his cock pulse inside you with each hump. Hinata’s weight pushes your body flush against the massage table, the friction giving your clit just enough stimulation to have you right at the brink of orgasm.
“I’m g’nna— Shoyo, Shoyo!” you gasp into his mouth, your fingers scrambling at the table’s vinyl.
He starts fucking you again, his hips coming down harder, the same speed as before but now hitting the sensitive spot inside you with more force, “Yea, pretty? Cum on my cock, fuck. Be good for me and cum, come on—“
Your brows furrow as your jaw drops, a pathetic series of whines and barely muffled sobs falling from your mouth as you cum, tightening around Hinata’s cock hard enough to have him whimper your name.
He tucks his face into your neck again when you throw your head back onto his shoulder, moaning shamelessly as he buries himself in your cunt, “Let me cum inside, I need to— need t’ cum, please,” he begs.
You nod instantly, starting to beg for him to finish, needing to feel his warmth deep in your stomach as your orgasm drags on. You whine out his name when you feel his cock kick as he pumps thick ropes of cum inside you, just like you asked. Your eyes flutter shut, your head lolling forward as Hinata’s soft moans fill the air.
“Yea, that’s it, baby,” he huffs, shuddering against you, “You take it so well, good girl.”
He starts to move back, mumbling something about the mess but you don’t want him to pull out, you need him close for a little while longer. You whimper as you grab his hand, turning your head to look at him with pleading eyes.
“Not yet! Please,” you whisper, tightening your hold on his hand, “Sorry, I just—“
“No, no, don’t be sorry! You’re alright, baby,” he coos, squeezing your hand back as he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hinata strokes your arm with his free hand, letting you compose yourself as he whispers soft praise; you did so well, you look so beautiful, you know? That’s it, deep breaths, angel, relax for me.
It takes a few minutes for you to come back down, but Hinata never once complains or rushes you, he just waits and keeps you full of his cock until you tell him it’s alright to move. He gives your shoulder a kiss as he pulls out, you let out a little whimper and he sucks in a breath through his teeth.
Hinata gently rolls you over before he brings one of the spa’s thick towel robes to you. You gingerly sit up, groaning a little at the ache already settling in your thighs. Hinata smiles apologetically as he helps you off the massage table, wrapping you up in the robe before he hugs you.
You tilt your head back, laughing softly as he lays a trail of warm kisses along your jaw, “All your massages are free from now on, by the way. Now let's get you cleaned up,” he says. Hinata leads you to the small bathroom connected to the main massage room, “And, uh, I’d like to take you to dinner after this, a real date.”
“I guess we did things a little out of order, huh?” you ask, giving him a teasing poke to the ribs.
“I think we did things just fine,” Hinata retorts as he starts the shower for you, “But you still deserve to be taken out sometime.”
“Okay, Shoyo,” you agree, shrugging off the robe before you step into the warm water, “A real date.”
✰ ✰ ✰
minors dni credit goes to @/rat-zuki !
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