katsuki’s been close with you and izuku since childhood. and now, he’s fucking you, and every time you whine that sweet, “kacchan!” he can’t help but think of izuku too.
"ah! god, fuck!" you mewl, head thrown back at the sensation of katsuki's active thrusting, warm hands gripping your thighs.
"atta girl. so good f'me, baby." he grunts, hips angling to hit the perfect spot, sweat collecting on his brow.
"mmph! yes kacchannn, shit!"
kacchan. that stupid nickname. he hates when you say it in bed. it makes him think of izuku, he's the one who started with it in the first place. it makes him wonder what it would be like if he were here, if he heard you say that. how he'd react. how his face would get all red for no absolute reason and his dumb overflowing brain would get all fuzzy—
"baby, cut it out with that shit." katsuki grunts. he's scolded you about this before.
"m sorry!" you groan, hips wiggling and grinding against him. "but why?" you pout, and you're super fucking adorable. your skin's all moist and glistening beneath him, a soft crease on your forehead.
he pants above you, slowing down his movements to a reasonable talking pace. "cuz— makes me think of deku. n i dont wanna think about his dumbass while im balls deep in my girl—"
"i love izuuu..." you croon, eyes all blissed out. you clench around him and his jaw clenches, cock twitching inside you.
"i- i know ya do, honey."'
"no, i," you grunt, eyes rolling back briefly, jutting your hips forward. "i love him, katsuki. wish he was here with us..."
"he's so cute," you babble on mindlessly, with little squeaks leaving your throat here and there. you messily brush your hair out of your face, gripping your boyfriend's tough biceps right after. "he's so cute, suki. want him too."
"jesus fuck," katsuki hisses, leaving a light lovetap on your asscheek before bending down and sucking on your tongue.
"you want him here too." you mumble when he pulls away, saliva coating both your lips. "mmmph— you wanna have him, baby, i know you do!"
bakugou squeezes his eyes shut, digging his face into your neck as he rocks into you with soft grunts. "y-yeah. okay, fine. shit.."
Hi I pookie I just wanted to bother you but do you guys think izuku would be the one to treat you like a princess and then break the bed with you under him🥹💔
-🍰
🛞 RESPECTFUL ✩ izuku midoriya .ᐟ
🏁 pit stop ! 𖦹 izuku is the boyfriend of everyone’s dreams. he’s good with mums, favoured by fathers and is the type of man your friends secretly wished they snagged. he’s respectful until you’re alone. then, he isn’t. (1.3K)
🏁 safety car ! ⋆ not safe for work ⋆ smut ⋆ eighteen plus only. pro hero au, canon compliant, established relationship, fluff, izu spoils you deown, hopeless romantic izu, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected sex, mentions of breeding, dacryphilia, cum play, boyfriend izuku midoriya & fem reader.
i think izuku is very much the type of guy who presents himself as respectable, kind and caring— especially when meeting the people closest to you.
your friends think he’s the greenest flag you’ve dated since they met you — he charms them at a lavish restaurant he’d heard you mention in passing. uses his big pro hero salary to pay for each round of their drinks and high end sushi, kisses your cheeks in front of them whilst recounting how it was love at first sight with you — how he can’t live without you. izuku tells them that he works with kids and has a passion for shaping the youth of tomorrow, to which they giggle and whisper to you that he’d make the perfect father. they tell you that you’re lucky for finding a catch like he izuku. he shakes his head, green eyes sparking with adoration and says.
“never, i’m the lucky one.”
your mum considers izuku her son in law way too early. she can immediately tell he’s been raised by a single mother and often tells him to send inko her well wishes. she thinks that he’s so well mannered, especially with the way your boyfriend always calls her miss and ma’am despite her insistence on him calling her mum too. izuku heads over to your parent’s house on a Sunday without you asking, every weekend without fail, he drives your mother to the store and helps with the weekly shop. keeps her company on her errands in town and even treats her to lunch. he sends her a custom bouquet of lilies on Mother’s Day with a card that expresses his gratefulness towards her — thanking her for bringing you into the world.
your father shares a similar sentiment — he calls izuku son before your fifth date and they spend time on weekend chatting hero statistics and rankings whilst they work on fixing your father’s vintage car. you gush over lemonade with your mother about how handsome izuku looks all greased up, oil smeared over freckled cheeks and arms exposed by rolled up sleeves. his biceps flex and you giggle every time, shy as your boyfriend waves up to you.
“he makes you so happy, i’ve never seen you look this happy.” your mother iterates warmly whilst standing with you, staring down at the men from the porch.
you swirl your glass and smile fondly as the ice clinks inside of it. “he does,” you say wistfully. “he really does.”
and it’s the truth, because izuku spoils you so much. your apartment is always stocked with everything you could ever need — he sends you groceries from work and roses whilst he’s between classes. a necklace you’d mentioned saving for becomes a gift on your Friday night date night. dates go from lavish to simple and loving — a cake picnic in the park planned by him because you said you missed the sunshine to caviar on a yacht for your first anniversary, kissing over sweet sparking champagne. he doted on you all of the time, cooking his is favourite way to spoil you — learning proper knife skills from kacchan to make sure he can cook every dish that you love, especially the ones from home that aren’t so easy to find in japan.
after nights out with your girls he slips your heels off ( red bottoms from him ) and throws you over his broad shoulder — laughing with you whilst he carries you to the bathroom, smiling at you whilst he washes you in the tub with the vanilla scented shower gel you’d left at his place, cooing at you to keep your head up when he changes you into your pjs and takes off your makeup.
let’s not forget, izuku carries your bags whenever you’re out shopping, designer paid for on his black card as well as a wad of cash slipped into your back pocket for your appointment with your favourite private nail tech. every design has is initials incorporated into them because he pays for every set. deku loves the way your decorated nails look when you’re holding hands or wrap them around his throat.
speaking of… izuku appears perfect on paper, presents that way towards the people you love but when you have a moment alone — when it’s just you two, the quiet and the chemistry between your bodies… izuku transforms. for the better.
izuku fucks you like a monster, like he hates you because he loves you.
every time he has you, gets to ravage you — the sheets turn into a mess nearly as soaked as you are. coated in cum, doused with sweat. izuku never just stops at one orgasm, he pushes you both to the brink and beyond because there’s always something so addictive about the way you scream his name right when you hit your peak. something of a song, a melody that only he gets to hear. you string out the syllables like they’re notes to a song you composed of your own volition and the way your body shakes and arches and bows into deku, with each stroke of his tongue or thrust from his hips into you, acts like an accompaniment.
he’s skilled in ruining you, shaping your consciousness to think only of him — empty of all thoughts except for the simple instruction of moaning for him echoing throughout your brain. izuku midoriya teaches your body to remember him, precious creamy little hole accommodating the thickness of his girth every time, hugging izuku close and milking him for all of his worth. he pours every load he can into you, until your folds are frothed up with white and hot potent seed pours out of you even after — there’s always something much that it even acts as lube for the next round, helping you to rock yourself down onto the pro hero’s throbbing dick when he asks you to ride him.
you’re trained to drain him dry every time sure, but also worshipped like you walk on water. he could spend hours between your thighs, sucking what you spill from your ripe cunt like it’s the first drink he’s had in years. izuku gets high as a kite on your taste, always has your thighs hooked over his shoulders or pinned to the bed because he has to keep you spread and quench his thirst. sometimes he’s his fingers, curled in search for your g-spot, relentlessly rubbing the squishy spot raw and scissoring you nice and open until you have no choice but to keep squirting right into his eager mouth — so full of hungry praise and sin.
every single one of his movements and touches is guided by passion, an eager attempt to make you feel the way that deku does. he loves you so much and so blindly, every fibre of his being is filled with adoration for you. it means he puts your pleasure above his own every time, infatuated with every reaction or mewl that you give him. whether it’s bent over the edge of the bed sucking his cock until your throat is sore or it’s rolled onto your tummy as he wildly rams into you from behind — you always get your release first, you get as many of them as you ask for as long as it pleases you. it pleases him to please you.
he’ll cum hard if you tell him you love him, pussy so full of his cream not even his rapid, calculated thrusts can keep it all in. hot white is smeared between your bodies always but deku holds the until you’re a bumbling limp mess underneath him or on top of him — he pushes you through the mattresses, fumbles for your had in the sheets because despite being inside you and wrecking your cunt more than what should be legally allowed, he still isn’t close enough to you. izuku’s swollen lips always meet your knuckles right has he finishes deep inside, lining the walls of your womb as your aftershocks shake through you.
you always cum first and he’ll always destroy you to get his orgasm afterwards.
so, perhaps that makes izuku respectful in bed too. you know, ladies first and all.
end. - reblogs and comments are always appreciated! just liking doesn't do much so pls motivate this writer if you'd like to see more!!
katsuki with a shy girl who only lets him eat her out if he has a blanket over his head...
he tried to do it a couple times before, only to be met with your thighs clenched around his head and your face stuffed in a pillow — pulling him up by the collar of his shirt as you ignore the ache between your thighs and mutter that he "doesn't have to do that"
and katsuki knows what he can do, prides himself on knowing how to eat pussy, how to make his girl feel good — and he's determined to get to the bottom of this.
so, the next time he's kissing down the valley of your cleavage and feels his hair being tugged as he reaches for your waistband, he decides enough is enough.
"why won't you let me do this"
your hands loosen their grip in his hair, "katsuki—"
"please, you're killing me here" he mutters, bringing one of your hands towards his lips as he kisses your palm, "just wanna make you feel good"
it's clear he wasn't taking your excuses this time, especially when he can see your slick soaking the thin fabric of your panties when his mouth gets just a little too close.
so, you give him an ultimatum...
and katsuki's mouth is ruthless, as if he's been depraved from something so divine all his life — because he has. his head bobbing under the sheets as he listens to your stifled moans. he comes up for air between licks, forehead dewy and hair stuck to his face as he watches you with glossy eyes.
and katsuki never complains, cause if this is the only way to have you as loud as he wants you to be — he'll choose that damn blanket every time.
a/n: do we fuck with the blurbs horndogs? i like writing them when i feel like i have an idea that doesn't need a whole fic 🤔 also then i can provide for your freakiness a little faster ykyk -> masterlist. | comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! 💋
Omg idk how comfortable you are with this, but....
All the main blondes of ua, yuga, katsuki, monoma, and Denki finding out your into blondes and each taking their turn fucking you to try and show you he's the better blonde?
And then ending up with someone who isn't blonde just for funnies???
I AM SO SO COMFORTABLE WITH THIS!!
i really hope this delivered. if not, i can do it over eventually. this was also very katsuki centric, I'm not sorry. i love hitoshi too
First off, Katsuki wanted this to be done at his apartment, just so he can have that bit of control hanging over everyone's heads instead of the outcome. You're closest to him than the others and that makes him smug and has him feeling extra greedy when you came over an hour before the others showed up. Sure you made out, felt each other up a bit, but it was mostly about him making sure you were still up for it, that you still had a clear headspace and everything. He fed you a light snack, make sure you were hydrated and poured you alcohol while you played Monopoly before the calvary came.
When they do, the rules are laid out and so are the limits. The main thing though is that this is all for fun, no feelings just vibes. The men obviously didn't follow through on that, you know they heard about your preference for blondes and they're all showoffs in their own right. So whether it was by dick size or stroke game, there was also a competition. If you were gagging on Monoma's dick, Katsuki was determined to make your jaw ache as he bullied his fat cock between your hollowed cheeks.
Denki wasn't as mean as the others were, he was a total sweetheart, cooing at you, praising you for riding him so good and begging you to keep going. But when you weren't looking, he'd flash the others a triumphant smirtk at the fact that you seemed to be putty in his hands.
Yuga was the most prissy, acting like he was doing you a favor, but boy, was his dick long.
Of course they stuffed all your holes, they rotated, they even bickered about it as if they were arguing over a side dish. On a different day, maybe you would have been offended but you were just happy to be there.
When you finally tapped out, nobody argued, nobody overstayed their welcome. Aftercare was a given, it wasn't treated as an option but a necessity. When they all left, Katsuki herded you into the guest bathroom as he drew you a bath, he didn't join you or anything, just stood watch at the door to make sure you didn't drown.
You watched Chinese dramas until you were tired—Katsuki fell asleep first—and went to work as normal the next day.
It's the end of the work day when Katsuki sees you getting picked up by someone. The parking garage was dimly lit but there was no mistaking the shock of purple hair. Hitoshi kisses you as he keeps eye contact with Bakugou. It's a look that conveys "I already know, I orchestrated it."
You drive away with Shinsou and Katsuki feels like a gossiping bitch when he texts in his squad group chat.
Katsuki: Did any of you fuckers know she was dating Yzma?
Denki: Yeah
Sero: Since high school broseph.
Kiri: Had brunch with them last week, their pet snake is cute.
katsuki’s been close with you and izuku since childhood. and now, he’s fucking you, and every time you whine that sweet, “kacchan!” he can’t help but think of izuku too.
"ah! god, fuck!" you mewl, head thrown back at the sensation of katsuki's active thrusting, warm hands gripping your thighs.
"atta girl. so good f'me, baby." he grunts, hips angling to hit the perfect spot, sweat collecting on his brow.
"mmph! yes kacchannn, shit!"
kacchan. that stupid nickname. he hates when you say it in bed. it makes him think of izuku, he's the one who started with it in the first place. it makes him wonder what it would be like if he were here, if he heard you say that. how he'd react. how his face would get all red for no absolute reason and his dumb overflowing brain would get all fuzzy—
"baby, cut it out with that shit." katsuki grunts. he's scolded you about this before.
"m sorry!" you groan, hips wiggling and grinding against him. "but why?" you pout, and you're super fucking adorable. your skin's all moist and glistening beneath him, a soft crease on your forehead.
he pants above you, slowing down his movements to a reasonable talking pace. "cuz— makes me think of deku. n i dont wanna think about his dumbass while im balls deep in my girl—"
"i love izuuu..." you croon, eyes all blissed out. you clench around him and his jaw clenches, cock twitching inside you.
"i- i know ya do, honey."'
"no, i," you grunt, eyes rolling back briefly, jutting your hips forward. "i love him, katsuki. wish he was here with us..."
"he's so cute," you babble on mindlessly, with little squeaks leaving your throat here and there. you messily brush your hair out of your face, gripping your boyfriend's tough biceps right after. "he's so cute, suki. want him too."
"jesus fuck," katsuki hisses, leaving a light lovetap on your asscheek before bending down and sucking on your tongue.
"you want him here too." you mumble when he pulls away, saliva coating both your lips. "mmmph— you wanna have him, baby, i know you do!"
bakugou squeezes his eyes shut, digging his face into your neck as he rocks into you with soft grunts. "y-yeah. okay, fine. shit.."
Cw: (pseudo) incest ((not if ur freaky like that)): 
HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT….older brother yuuji or izu….WALK WITH ME WALK PLEASEEE…it’s the same as daddy but just younger, more playful/youthful, there’s like so much to be explored….
we are freaky like that in aali ville fret not!!
ive talked a little bit about older brother izuku before !! nomnom everyone thinks you’re like weirdly close because of how protective izuku is of you. you’re off limits to his friends but they don’t really bother to try flirting with you after a while because you’re always clinging onto your brother. clambering into his lap in the middle of parties, letting him pour drinks down your throat, letting him feed you and sucking the sauce or juice from his fingers after.
think the only friend he’s really allowed you to be gross with is kirishima cause he’s defo walked in on the two of you before and stayed to watch.
i think that izuku is like … the type to cry if you get a boyfriend as your older brother. he wouldn’t try to scare your bf off but would manipulate you in secret “are you sure you even like him? you have me.” or “what can he do that your big brother doesn’t do already?” sneaks into your room in the middle of the night and cries about it into your neck while he’s stretching you open on big fingers stuffed into your cunt :(( you have to comfort big brother izu n tell him you’re a big girl now
“big girls don’t need help being prepped then.” he’ll say, turning mean and biting down on your cheek. “they just take it, right?” pulls his fingers out before you have a chance to cum on them, and slides into you half hard waiting for your warmth around him to get him all the way there. grinning softly because the burn has you turning your head to cry into the plushie he got you for your twenty first birthday :(
— an invincible fanfic // mark grayson is on thin fucking ice.
synopsis: dating a superhero wasn't easy, especially when they got on their knees and begged so well.
wc: 4.1k
cw: NOT PROOFREAD AT ALL. SLIGHT ANGST AND SM*T. MDNI. NSFW CONTENT AHEAD.
includes: kinda pathetic mark?? like mark is a BEGGER and a YEARNER and y'all argue. cannon-compliant relationship problems. dirty talk. f*ngering. or*l (f receiving). cunn*lingus. multiple org*sms (f receiving). overst*mulation. marathon s*x. squ*rting. piv. cre*mpie. tell me if i missed any :p
old m.list | new m.list
you first broke up with mark grayson after 2 months and 17 days of being together. you got together with him a month later, when he confessed his identity to you and begged you to take him back. you broke up with him again 6 months and 15 days later... well, err, no. you were about to break up with him but that day never came. you couldn't. not when mark grayson was so good at making up.
now, you had been dating for two years, 7 months and 2 days.
you knew dating a superhero wasn't easy. i mean, sure, him blowing you off to save the world stung but it was bearable. him having this huge secret that you had to protect with your life weighed on you but again, bearable. what wasn't bearable were the constant injuries - mark turning up with a black eye. or two. with bruised cheeks. with long gashes alongside his sides. with broken arms or legs. and all this was on an easy day. what wasn't bearable was the constant threat of losing him. to anything and everything around you.
he was invincible. you weren't. it weighed on you.
and god, it was getting repetitive. the fights. the justified helpness of his pretty eyes. the welling of tears in your blood-shot ones. your yells, pleas. the following, constant, jagged silence from him as he chose his duty over you. again and again and again. the sound of wind whooshing as he flew out of your window when he was confronted by the problems in your relationship. it was becoming a habit. a sick, twisted reality for you and the superhero.
you should leave each other, you pysche begged you as he brushed his teeth standing behind you in the early mornings, pressing his lean, muscular body to your back. you don't work together at all, it mused again when you poured him a cup of coffee. it's just gonna end in a heartbreak, you knew as you kissed his cheeks goodbye as told you he'd be home soon.
but you two were so good together. god.
you laughed at his jokes, hand in hand when out for a walk on the off-chance when he wasn't called on his superhero duties. you smiled up at him and ruffled his hair on cafe dates. you posed with him, all matching and shit, and kissed him stupid in one of the many photobooths you went to. he would get you pizza from italy and matcha from japan. he would give you his classic million-dollar smile and ask if you could forgive him. and you did. always did. only to come back to a shitty reality.
you knew it was doomed. you should have stopped. but you didn't... you couldn't. you loved him! you loved him! you loved him... especially when he always knew how to make it up.
you could still remember the first time he fucked up, before you knew even knew his identity.
you held your head in your palms after your very first big fight. you thought it was fucking over and fairly so. you had had it. you were done. he was so absent, and so full of shit. you and mark were just not going to work out and that was fine. that was fine. that was fin-
triiiiiing!
when you opened your gate, mike stood there.
"i'm sorry," he piped up, a whole cheesecake in his hands. giving you one of his classic mark smile, he asked. "please forgive me?"
and you did. but not before you mumbled about how he wasn't allowed to cancel on you again.
he promised you he wouldn't. he then cancelled on you atleast seventeen times. then, you broke up with him. and then, he won you back again.
after that, fight after fight, mark would find a way to make it upto you. extravagant trips, food, anything! but then, it got too much. you didn't want pizza from italy or matcha from japan or tteokbokki from korea. you wanted your boyfriend. and he was rarely there. "anything" for his baby started failing when he did everything and anything except reassuring you that he'd leave this superhero life behind and just live normally with you.
and so, it changed. it went from trips and food to begging. excessive begging. mark would tear up at the thought of losing you, at the thought of ever being parted. he couldn't lose you. not after all that he had lost. and you couldn't possibly put him through that pain. that ache of loss. so, you stayed.
and that's all you did. stay. any romance between you two had gradually fizzled out. a kiss on your cheek before he left wasn't affection, it was habit. you making enough coffee for two cups wasn't care, it was habit. you automatically leaving his dinner in the fridge to be treated when he got back wasn't love. again, just a habit.
and now, at one in the morning, two years seven months and three days later, you lay awake on the bed of your shared apartment.
the window was cracked open, allowing for a safe and seamless entry for whenever mark reappeared. you probably should have slept. but you couldn't. not with the dull ache in your heart.
an hour later, the sound of the clock going tick-tock was a source of comfort rather than annoyance. your chest rose and fell in steady breaths. your eyes stared at the wall in front of you. and then...
whoosh!
the curtain fluttered as your half-viltrumite boyfriend flew in through the open window. he took off his mask, barely even glanced at you as he immediately asked, "you're awake, babe?"
"yeah." you mumbled from your position, barely lifting your head to greet him.
"oh. shit, sorry. were you waiting up on me? sorry. there was this crazy interdimensional stingray and..." at your lack of response, he sheepishly said, "sorry."
"mark." your voice was feeble, barely audible to yourself. but you knew the viltrumite had super hearing, he could probably pick up on it.
if he heard you, he didn't react. instead, he quickly took off the rest of his suit, "uh, i'll take a quick shower and come. you should sleep, babe."
"mark." you said again, louder.
that made him pause.
"yes?"
you sat up, weary and lagged, "we... we need to talk."
he blinked at you before nodding, "yeah. sure. what is it?"
"this..." you took a deep breath, pinching your forehead, "this is not working."
mark's eyebrows furrowed. his eyes softened. he stepped forward, "what?"
"this isn't working." you repeated.
"no. i mean- i heard you." his words escaped him quickly, "i did."
"you know this isn't working-" you tried to reason.
he didn't even let you finish before he had practically teleported to your side, so close to you, with his face mere inches away from yours and his hands clamoring to stroke your cheek. "babe. i know... i know it is shitty and i work unreasonably long and- and listen, i'll talk to cecil. i'll take some time off—"
"no." you turned your head away from the warmth of his hand. "that's not it."
you felt his fingers twitch against your skin, "no...?"
you met his eyes again and swallowed, "this just isn't it, mark. we're done."
you expected some kind of rambling apology, some fake promise of a far off future when he retires and has all the time in the world for you, or some sort of compensation. but nothing came. nothing but radio silence.
mark grayson simply opened his mouth and closed it shut, again and again, like a fish out of water.
finally, he sighed, "you- you always say this. every once in a while."
you blinked at his words. fury rose to your throat, "yeah? because it's the fucking truth—"
he cut you off, putting his palm on your cheek again. it was soft. it grounded you. it infuriated you. "have i not been a good boyfriend? i mean... fuck, i mean... i try to do everything right. i make up when i fuck up and i always apologize—"
you shrugged his touch away, "and that's not enough. there's no point in those extravagant gestures when you're never fucking here." your voice quietened, packed with a punch, "you're never here."
"i'm here right now."
you inhaled sharply at his words. "at almost 1.30 at night? when i waited the entire night for you to show up? you don't get it mark. you can either be invincible or be mark grayson. you cannot be both."
he blinked at your words, "i- i'm sorry."
his apology hung low in the air alongside the thick silence. he didn't say anything, and neither did you. you couldn't forgive him again, not at the expense of your own ruination.
"it's just... over." you swallowed, looking away from him, "maybe... maybe you should just-" you stopped yourself, wincing, "maybe you should not be with a civilian like me. i clearly don't understand your work and—"
mark kissed you.
at first, you didn't react. didn't kiss him back. instead of backing down, he just increased his fervor, kissing you till he felt like his superhero lungs were on the verge of collapse.
when he pulled away for air, you simply asked, "what... are you doing?"
"making up." he pleaded, "for my mistakes."
"mark..." you watched as he clamored to get his upper half of the suit off. you reached forward and touched his bicep, trying to halt halting him. but he took your palm in his, throwing off his suit somewhere on the floor of your shared apartment. his voice weighed as heavy as the ache in his eyes, "please. let me."
and you wanted to protest, wanted to tell him that sex wouldn't solve any of your problems but your tongue weighed heavy in your mouth. it had been so long since you both... touched. did anything other than kisses or quickies because mark had to run.
"please." his eyes refused to leave yours as he pressed a kiss to the back of your palm. it was chaste but something molten stirred in your core.
"okay." you nodded once, and that's all mark needed.
he kissed you immediately. his hands were on you in a second, one of them cupping your cheek while the other palmed your chest through your sleepshirt. he pushed you backwards until your back was against the headboard, until he had somehow nudged his lower half in between your thighs.
you were sandwiched between the hard wall and him.
"fuck..." you groaned into his mouth, "i missed this."
he nodded, eager, already pawing at your tshirt and ripping it off.
"mark!" you yelped at the rip of the fabric, but he didn't care. his lips latched onto your breasts, his tongue permeating the fabric with lecherous wads of saliva whilst his hips driveled against your clothed cunt.
whatever arguments you had died on the tip of your tongue. this was too much. he was too much. mark was always good at sex, thanks to the viltrumite stamina but when he was needy like this? when he had something to prove... oh god, it was hard to believe you would make out of it alive.
your clothes were ripped off of you. actually. your bra, then your shorts and panties, with not even as much as a decent apology, just the promises of "i'll buy you more." as he threw around the tattered fabric.
his lips circled your nipple, his knee grinding carefully against the heat o your apex. you arched your back and gasped into the air. he grinned against your skin and drank you in feverishly.
"fuck... c'mere." you pulled him up, kissing him again, all while his knee built up that gutting pressure against your core. it was delicious. it was delirious.
kissing down the edge of your lips, and then your jaw and then your neck, he quickly replaced his knee with his fingers. god. his fingers. long, agile digits that knew where exactly to pet. to curl. to work. it was as if you were his personal favourite experiment and he knew exactly where to push and prod to get the most favourable outcome.
he pet your gooey spot, stroking the g-spot so tenderly that it had your thighs tremble and eyes roll back in bliss. he was methodical. in and out. in and out. in and out- and oh fuck, he ramped up the tempo. his fingers delved in and out of you like a machine - precise, deep and fast - until his fingers were all but a crazy blur slick with your juices. his lips still worked against your pulsepoints, sucking in bruises that made your head spin.
"fuck, fuuuck-" you cried into the heady air, head thrown back and shaking as you felt your core tighten. your orgasm built and built until it tore through you, hot and shaking.
mark came to kiss away your cries of pleasure, to drink them in as his fingers did not halt, just momentarily slow down.
"fuck," he groaned, heavy against your lips, "you're squeezing the fuck out of me, babe."
"s-sorry."
"no." he kissed you to shut you up, "don't fuckin' apologize. feels so good. feels like heaven." he panted like he was the one who just came, and then sped up his fingers again.
"mark, no." you winced, already trying to shimmy your hips away at the overstimulation of his doughy fingertips teasing your sensitive pussy again. he groaned at the thought of you escaping, "don't run from me."
"'senough..." you argued, thick-tongued and hazy, "i'm- it's enough."
"no." he kissed you again, and then, without missing a beat, lowered himself down your body. you felt his hot, open-mouthed kisses everywhere on your simmering skin as he went down - from your collarbone to the valley of your breasts and your belly, to your hip and inner thigh. his fingers didn't stop in the slightest, and now his sinful mouth had joined in the mix.
his tongue traced delicious patterns onto your clit, teasing and probing the nub until you were forcing his head deeper in and squirming your hips farther away.
the tremor in your thighs picked up pace, and before you could run, or even think of it, mark had his arms looped steadfast around your legs. he pinned you down, rendering you useless completely and utterly.
you pawed at his head, "mark— shit... too much— seriously!"
"no, no, no." he cried against your gushing pussy, kissing it intimately, "please don't run. i have to make up for this..."
you're sure your boyfriend was rambling on in the background, something about how sweet you were and how lovely you tasted but you couldn't hear any of it, not over the dull roar of blood in your eardrums. as your second orgasm washed over you, you felt your vision blank. your back arched, nails ripped into his shoulders and eyes rolled back. for a moment, all that existed was you and mark and the sexual limbo he had subjected you to.
you're not sure how long it took — seconds, or perhaps minutes — but when you caught your breath and felt your vision return to your body, you blinked back dark spots just to find mark still attached to your core.
"mark." your throat was choked, eyes heavy with unshed tears. "no more."
he looked up at you, eyes wrecked with lust and devotion. "one more. i wanna feel you cum again. on my fingers. on my face."
if his tongue wasn't enough to give you a blood rush, his words certainly were.
you shied under his intense gaze, "you don't have to— jus-just fuck me now. im ready."
mark blinked at you, as in disbelief. "and miss the feeling of my girl squirting all over me?"
your cheeks heated impossibly higher. you demanded through the embarassment, "but I want you inside."
"i know." mark gave you a smile, still unyielding in his pumps inside your cushiony pussy. "don't worry, I'll make you squirt on my dick too."
any chance of a protest were long dismissed as mark grayson dived into your core again, drinking the erotic liquid pooling from your honeyed sex.
with how overestimated you were, and how well his fingers and mouth worked in tandem, it took only a few minutes till your vision was going splotchy and head was feeling lightheaded.
an unreal pressure built up in your lower belly, then kind that had you gasping chants of your boyfriend's name in the hopes of ruination, or salvation, or both.
"fuck, fuck, fuck—" you panted, in heat and spiraling, "it's... fuck I think I'm going to..."
"yeah?" mark groaned, using his other hand to quickly swipe against your swollen clit. the strikes of his doughy fingertips only teased the burning geyser in your core and before you knew it, you felt your body shake with need and release. a jet of liquid splashed against marks face and like an indecent man, maddened with lust, he hung open his jaw and drank all of it.
you writhed against him, shaking and trembling and gasping in pleasure, and the man still had the audacity to come place kitten licks to your quivering sex.
when, ever-so-slightly, your sanity returned to you, you opened your eyes to find mark grayson cleaning up the mess between the juncture of your thighs with the softest strokes.
you pet his hair, which was now sweaty and sticking to his handsome face.
"too much?" he asked, nuzzling his face against your perspired skin. his face was still practically dripping with your essence.
managing a weak smile, you shrugged, "eh, I've had a viltrumite boyfriend for so long. I'm used to it."
he kissed up your body again, leaving the obscene trail of your juices on your body with every kiss.
when he finally made his way to your face, you wiped off his lips with your palm. he smiled against your skin, "are we good?"
you paused at that. were you? the sex was good but... was it enough?
you looked away to the side. mark gently pulled your face back to him.
"tell me if we aren't." one of his arms hooked your legs over his hips, quickly shuffling to his stifling cock to line against your entrance.
you swallowed, "i don't know." you paused again, feeling his oozing mushroom tip kiss your entrance in such a wicked game of teasing. "i just don't even know if you love me anymore."
that seemed to do it. he blinked at you, confused.
"what?" his expression was hard to decipher, even as someone who was very transparent. "how- how can you say that?"
"i..." you inhaled, sharp, "sorry. it just feels like it..."
he rested his forehead against you, "don't ever fucking say that. don't ever." there was a strain to his words, the kind that was followed by the sheathing of his cock right inside you.
you gasped, "mark!"
but it was done. as someone who loved missions, mark grayson had already found his next. he pushed your thighs to your chest, folding you in as he bludgeoned his cock into you.
"don't fucking say that." he grunted, his pupils blown with lust and resolve. every snap back of his cock was lined with a promise. "i love you."
"i—" words came hard to you. your core was already tight and burning. you were so close.
"i love you." he said it again, like clockwork. like saying it again and again made it any more true. "you don't get to fucking question that. please."
his cock was not in the slightest jilted by the rambunctious nature of his words. he dived his leaky tip to the deepest of your core, stretching you out on himself as if it were habit. his muscled erection massaged your walls.
"mark. fuck. again—nggh!" your sanity had somehow reduced itself to only one word — his name.
he nodded, feverish, bringing one of his hands to swipe at your swollen clit again. it throbbed under him, raw and overstimulated. despite his actions, his words didn't falter. "i love you. i am gonna— fuck, fix this. hah. fix it. all of it. i love you."
with each drag of his cock back into your perfect cunt, he babbled on like a madman. you, on the other hand, were struggling to retain your sanity, much less listen to his pleas.
"fuck— oh my god—" your breathy voice was enough of an indicator of what was to come. mark momentarily stilled inside of you, quickly swiping his fingers against your drenched cunt.
your back bowed, eyes clenched shut and jaw hung open as another stream of squirt hit the man's lower abs, travelling down in rivers of sin.
the juncture of your thighs were a mess of fluids — his, yours, his, and yours. the mixture did nothing but egg him on to increase his pace, to use the fluid as lube to fuck you senseless.
recovering from your fourth consecutive orgasm, you barely registered the tightening of his jaw and his irongrip on your body. he panted, "fuck— hah. god, can I cum inside? please—ngh baby?"
you nodded, not trusting your voice to be capable of much after such violent screams of pleasure.
at your go, mark grayson increased his pace to an unfaltering degree. he was inhumane — fucking you at a speed that almost coaxed another orgasm out of your spent body. your entire body jiggled at the force of his thrusts.
and then, with a few more, he spilled inside you with a unrestrained cry, "oh— holy shit."
mark collapsed on top of you, weighing his muscular body against yours as he took deep breaths. there was a mess in between the juncture of your thighs, and there he was — still buried.
instinctively, your hand flew to his hair again. you pet it, soft and smooth.
"fuck." he groaned into your perspired skin. "that was good." mark looked up, eyes big and doubtful, "yeah?"
you managed a nod, "it was."
he smiled, "are you okay?"
you sighed, still playing with his hair, "i don't think i can walk tomorrow."
mark laughed at that, airy and unserious. "I'll fly you wherever you want."
you rolled your eyes at that. you were in a post-fuck haze, not stupid.
"as if. cecil's gonna be ringing you up any minute now."
"no." mark picked himself up to press a kiss to your lips. a quick peck. "I'll take tomorrow off."
"i thought you said a superhero never takes a day off?" and though there was a teasing lilt to your voice, the two of you knew just how deeply the question flowed.
it wasn't a joke, it was a clever way to corner him, get him to admit the truth that he believed in.
"well, i can either be mark grayson or invincible, right? i choose to be mark grayson tomorrow." he flashed you a sincere smile.
you blinked, "seriously?"
mark nodded. "seriously."
you grinned, "i love you."
"i love you more." he pressed another kiss to your lips, this one a lot longer.
when you both parted, mark smiled against your lips. "i know i fucked up. I'd be better."
you smiled too, "thanks."
mark carefully removed himself from you. he then cleaned you up, offering you one of his tshirts to sleep in. you're not sure how quickly you fell asleep, but you fell asleep against his chest, listening to the rise and fall of his chest.
next morning, when you woke up, you reached out for your boyfriend but his side of the bed was empty.
groggy and sore, you blinked the sleep out of your eyes and sighed. cecil probably called. he probably needed to go save the world from an alien species for the fiftieth time this month.
well, it was fine. whatever. it was mark. why were you even expecting anything different? he was a smooth talker. and god, the sex was amazing but when had he ever kept his promises—
"i made french toast!" he announced proudly as he walked into your bedroom, a tray table in his arms.
you blinked, "you're... here?"
"uh, yes?" he looked at you, confused, "today, im mark grayson, remember?"
you blinked from him to the tray in his hands. "right... i just thought you left—"
"cecil called thrice." mark admitted honestly, "but I told him if my girlfriend breaks up with me, I'll probably go berserk and end the planet. and the GDA wouldn't want that." he added, sheepish, "probably."
"wow." you sat up, half impressed and half terrified. "that's a lot of responsibility on my shoulders. stopping invincible from ending the planet."
"it got cecil off my ass for today." he leaned in to kiss you.
you looped your arms around his neck and kissed him back.
maybe the relationship was doomed. but the sex was bomb. and so was his french toast.
a.n: GUESS WHO GOT INTO THE INVINCIBLE FANDOM AND ALSO raise your hand if you want me to do a part two with much more angst. originally, reader was gonna leave mark's sorry ass but then i felt like being nice. hope you enjoyed the filth.
(TO ANYONE WHO'S WAITING ON MEDDLE ABOUT, I'M WORKING ON IT.)
old m.list | new m.list
another tsukishima and yamaguchi fighting over reader fic
warnings. thirst. minors DNI
content. 2.5k words || college au || bubbly!naive!reader || messy love triangle || nonexistent boundaries || jealous!touchy!tsukki || cramped booth seating || PDA || canonically bully-adjacent!tsukki || confessions, flirting, and almost-kissing || lots of non-explicit touching
"Soo tired!"
You stretch tall, hands reaching up to the ceiling as your trio enters your small campus café. The light pours through your splayed fingertips and for a moment, there's peace, until you get a small jab to ribs.
"Ow!" You mostly warn. You swat hard at Kei, making progress towards your favorite booth in the back.
"Ughhh!! Do we seriously have to study every day?"
Yamaguchi gives you a warm, apologetic smile on behalf of both of them, "I know, but with midterms coming up, we won't regret it. It's an investment."
You know better than to ask what how investments are relevant, because Kei's already stiff in the shoulders with the desire to tease you about your poor grades again.
The only reason he keeps his comments to himself this time is because he just stopped talking shit about your failing English paper that had fallen from your open bag, minutes ago. He'd be damned before he made the same joke twice in a row.
He gets around it anyway, "Maybe if (Y/n) knew how to use the zipper on her bag, she'd know what an investment is."
"Tsukki," Is Tadashi's resounding groan.
It's practically his catchphrase. You wish you could focus enough to count how many times he does that throughout the day, because you're sure 'Tsukki' would be his #1 most-spoken word.
Kei wore a grin you could hear better than you could see. And it was always audible when he teased.
Tadashi takes a seat first and you follow soon after. As you get settled, you accidentally place your palm atop his and you both pull away quick, warm, and unsure- until Kei also takes that side. He jams your body tight between the both of them and the adjustment is difficult.
"Ow-!!"
Your arms don't even have enough room; you have to hold them out in front. You put them to good use, slapping the blond's long legs.
"Hello?" You struggle, and grunt, and wiggle, and... he's unbothered. You're dealing less damage than a gnat.
"Whaaa-t?" He groans, "We've got more coming."
"So you can-?," Tadashi takes a breath and has to readjust, smushed against the wall. He tries to settle his nerves. It's unsuccessful as he snaps, "Can't you sit over there until they show up?"
They share a loaded glance over your head.
"Nahh." Kei readjusts and pushes an inconspicuously strong leg against you so he can enjoy more room, "Don't feel like it."
Your knees clack together and you shoulder him in return, digging into his ribs. He plucks his arm up and over your shared booth seat. It successfully babygirl's both you and Tadashi.
It's a tiring endeavor that you soon find isn't worth it, because he will not budge.
There were worse places to be, but Kei's bony elbow and the keys in Tadashi's pocket are something short of comfortable.
You point to a new drink advertisement on a folded, upright menu, "Y'think that's any good? Should I get it?"
"If you get it, I wanna try it," Tadashi comments, flipping through your textbook to find the chapter you stopped on in class today.
"'Scuse meee," You turn to Kei.
He's slouched back, arms half-crossed, scrolling his phone, his headphones already on.
You sigh through your nose.
The feeling on your palms pressing into his sweater, your knee sliding between his parted thighs, your breath breezing past the side of his face, makes him stiffen. He quickly readjusts his headphones. He sits up, eyes rapidly scouring you, pink tinging his pretty, slim features.
"Whaaat?" Your face is about four inches from his, and your other hand flies to his arm for stability as you wobble, "I said excuse me!"
All too quickly, you've stumbled out on the other side of him.
He mutters, "Dumbass..." And earns your cute little tongue stuck out at him, in return.
Amber eyes track your skip down the cafe to the counter-- how your skirt sways and all that peppy, simple energy. You do it again in line when you catch him watching you. Cute.
There's no hiding how long he looks over his shoulder at you, nor his explicit thoughts from Tadashi, who's busy burning holes into the side of his stupid, blond head.
"Tch," He rolls his eyes all the way into his skull when he finally sits forward in his seat again. He could feel the heat. There was hardly even a need to confirm it, anymore.
Everybody on the team. Everyone in their class (who cared enough) knew. You knew. Kei was not alone in peddling around for Tadashi to grow some balls and make a fucking move already. Afternoons of classmates: lingering in the door when, without fail, Tadashi would escort you to practice. Fellow teammates: pausing their conversations to get a glimpse of your hug as you parted ways to change. Kei: at his wit's end with these study sessions that bubbled, teeming, with opportunity, but reliably fizzled out into nothing.
There were many eyes on you, all the time, searching, scanning, for any signs of a confession happening. Selfish with the need to see it themselves but nonetheless supportive.
He spares his freckled friend, at last, a tiny look, "Relax. She's getting you a drink."
Tadashi is extra snappy. He's not just talking about the seasonal advertisement as he goes on to correct him:
"She's getting her own drink. I'll try it. You could also easily try it, Tsukki."
"Don't wanna try it." Kei mutters, arms crossing over his tingly chest again, "I want my own."
Tadashi shifts, exaggerated, and slaps an arm on the back of the booth, his whole body turned totally towards his friend. It's not like he would ever do anything, but intimidation was a rare thing on his usually mild temperament. Kei had been acting a bit like a toddler all day and Tadashi was returning it in his own way, sporting a tired-parent tone.
"Why don't you get up and get- your- own?"
Kei said nothing. But his icy stare said, quite clearly, 'I want yours.'
"'Scuse meee," You sing to Kei again.
He turns, slow, like it pains him, or is perhaps the most inconvenient favor he's ever done, by sticking his legs out in the aisle to let you through. If Tadashi wants to challenge him, Kei had an ego to protect and a point to prove.
There's an large, elaborate drink in your hands. You've got a bit of whipped cream on your chin already, and Kei -broody- misses his chance to bring it up as you feel for it and wipe your face clean.
It's a tight squeeze, still.
The outside of your thigh brushes his shoulder. Your skirt catches and lifts a little on the material.
You pay it no mind, but it's all Kei can do to collect himself before he resets. He lingers, seconds after you're seated, with his legs still in the aisle and his nose filled with the sweetness of your perfume. It's so easy.
He affixes his headphones, first, and turns to once again squish the two of you in. Harder this time. He ignores all ensuing complaints.
If only. Maybe his bouncing leg with speed this hellish torture up. Literally forcing you together.
It does succeed in making you lean into Tadashi. You can tell Kei is in a mood today and his uniform is scratchy on your bare leg.
The new order was better than your usual. You're extra satisfied. Less bummed about the prospect of spending time at the cafe today now that you've been somewhat compensated for the usually dry and fruitless effort of studying.
"Tada-shii-!! Mmm, it's soo good!" You hold the straw near to his lips, so that he has to sip it from your hands, "Here, try it- try!"
You play Keepaway when he reaches to hold it himself twice, flustered. They're both being sensitive and it makes you squint at him, calculating.
"Mm-mm, you'll drink too much of it..." You mumble, and press it closer, "Here."
His eyes bounce from the straw to your expectant face. He's drinking out of your hands with very little convincing; you're into it. It's kind of like feeding a small, timid animal. You bite back the giggly Good job and desire to coo at him like a bunny, or a cat.
Dark, thick, long eyelashes from this angle are so pretty. His complexion that was healthy. Sunkissed, athletic, and coated in an explosion of specks. Killer smile.
"I like your freckles..." Spills out, and makes him choke.
You forgot he doesn't.
"Sorry, sorry!"
You wince and yank out a bunch of napkins from the holder across the table. He has no choice but to accept your help and try to make a graceful recovery, but it's hard to come across as unaffected when now his lap is wet and your flippant comment is bouncing off the walls of his skull.
"Nice," Kei snorts, genuine laughter behind the back of his hand.
It is pretty funny, so you fail to hide your own giggles, and Tadashi gets all shy again.
What is truly funny is the two of you needing to exit the booth in order for him to get out, so he can clean up in the restroom. It's a clamber, a clumsy endeavor, with everyone stumbling out.
"It's okayyy!" You call to Tadashi. It doesn't help.
You don't have high hopes for the café soap, tap water, and electric hand dryer on his pants. He'll probably have to take them somewhere and live with the stain on his crotch for a few hours.
You share a rare look of amusement with Kei, because 1) you're often not left alone and 2) you often don't find the same things funny. This was a particularly odd exception.
You both dip your heads away. Small smiles and quiet giggles make Kei polite enough to clean up the mess you were responsible for.
"I got it."
He leans over you with no more words. He's lacking in his usual shittiness. He smells nice, but you push that all the way to the back of your mind and try to pretend like you never noticed.
The reach from his long limbs makes his position not a huge deal, but you're still warm at how he grips the wood right behind your head. You 'have' to stare at his arm while he carefully sops up the mess of your drink. You're partial to being a bit higher than him. Or, maybe it was the fact that he was doing you a favor. You don't care. You aren't in a rush to find out.
He acts like he doesn't feel your uneven breath flutter across his skin.
When you turn, because you can see him twitching, your eyes stop on his cleaning hand. He makes the napkins look very tiny.
"So big..." Falls from your lips.
He bites his cheek and looks away to hide how much he likes that. You're staring at his fingers, so his choice to take a second is nonconsequential.
Soon he's done and places all the napkins he used wadded up, back on the table to throw away later. He sits up, but doesn't turn away.
It's so easy. You are so. Easy.
Kei keeps his smile under his palm as he rests his elbow on the table, and flips his free hand palm-up, pressing the back of it into your lap as an offering.
"You've got a crush on him, don't you?"
You squirm, hesitant to take his touch and to answer his uncalled for, yet informed question. He can't help himself. You're too fun to tease.
"Do'y'want me to leave?"
"N-o..."
"Do'y'want me to tell him?"
"No," You're fidgeting just the right amount, toying with the tips of his fingers. He's got you where he wants you and he's where he wants to be.
You send a chill up through his arm as your touch skips across the lines in his palm. He shifts, nostrils flared.
It's not shy, he's not avoidant; it's just as conversational as everything else he's said today:
"Y'know I like you?"
See, Tadashi? It's so easy that even he can do it.
You pause. You're unsure what to do with that, and assume he's joking, until you feel his hand slide up into your hairline while you're busy searching his sincere expression. The 'Are you serious?' dies before it gets past your teeth.
His thumb is caressing the side of your face. It's a sensation that simplifies, dulls, everything else. With it, he gets you laser-focused on him.
Just the two of you. It rarely is this way, isn't it? Your heart is quickening and you truly look at him for the first time. He's got blond eyelashes. His glass are a bit crooked, when he presses his jaw into his hand like that. He's beautiful. He's not lying.
"Stop playing," You go to pull away, but he's rough with the angle to grip your roots and desire to keep you still. Just for a moment. He wouldn't hurt you, but he is selfish.
There's tension in the side of his face that you can see.
You like Kei. You want him around. You like the way he feels, right now.
But what you Really like is the fact that he's so direct.
"M'not joking. I do."
He knows he'll lose you eventually to his best friend.
You don't care much for quick-wittedness and sarcasm, or sick blocks, or the extra height he boasts about. You want- and deserve- somebody just as sweet as you.
Yet, for some reason, he can't roll over and let the Nice Guy win. On some level, he's certain that he's doing your future relationship a favor by making things rocky and interesting now.
Tadashi was fighting so much harder than he would've ever had to in order to win your affections.
"Tired of not saying it," He sighs.
His grip is soft, but your body feels drawn in, as if he's capable of generating a gravitational force. You don't realize that it's because you areleaning.
His eyes sink lower to your lips.
You want somebody to take your weight. Your heavy, beating heart. You had been stuck waiting around for a confession. Now you got one.
"You..." You run out of breath after just one word and your face flashes hot.
He's close.
You still don't wiggle away. You even hold your breath, and your lips are just barely sticking to one another before a heavy textbook slams onto the cafe table.
The awful shared flinch means his fingers get stuck and you're both left looking flushed, horribly guilty, and attempting to fish one of his adjustable rings from one messy lock of hair.
Kageyama's low, disgusted mutter: "Ugh... I didn't peg you for a pervert..."
The late company would've been a welcome sight three minutes ago, but all it does is throw a wrench into a track you didn't realize you were speeding down.
"Take that back, dumbass."
"Huh?? Like Hell I will! What were you doing?"
"None of your damn business, Tobio."
"Don't say my name like that!"
As those two get into it, you spiral in what was Tadashi's seat, fingertips pressing against your bottom lip. You're zoning out hard.
"Mm!" Hinata is helping himself to your drink across the table, "This is so good! Is this new?"
content. 5k wc | college au | riding | bratty!oikawa | degradation kink | praise kink | f!rec oral | body worship | switchy but mostly bottom!oikawa | stem major!reader | nerdy!reader x student athlete!oikawa
Warmth hits his nose first, quickly spreads to his cheeks, and zips across his whole body as he gets a full look at who is supposed to be his nerdy, frumpy, loser lab partner.
"Oh, shit- you're early," You breathe, "Ah, I'm sorry. The air conditioning is- sorry, hold on!"
You turn to some of the maintenance guys, who are in the middle of giving you some extra instructions before they go.
'What the fuck?' Ghosts from his lips, totally unseen.
It leaves him to stand alone in the threshold, one hand on the door. Was that you? He glances around, then back to that outfit you had on. He didn't realize you were working with all that.
A sweet little tank, tiny pair of shorts, no shoes, hair all down and messy? Where in the world were your glasses?
As you speak to the workers, he notices a sheen of sweat across your shoulders and cheeks. He could feel it, too. The heavy heat of your apartment. He fluffs the collar of his shirt with a free hand, brow knitted, mind racing, he's thinking: You were a piss-poor excuse for a girl before today.
"You can come in!" You call out as you sign a form.
He hesitates, but slowly enters and shuts the door.
You incorrectly read him as being angry about the broken air conditioning.
"I know, I know. Just-," His eyes wander hard when you finally turn to him and the living room starts to clear out, "Awful timing. Let's try to get this done fast, yeah?"
"We'll be back tomorrow!"
"See ya Ms. (L/n)."
"Thanks guys!"
Girl, get what done? Looking like that was just begging for a different kind of chemistry.
Torn between player-Tohru and shitty lab-partner-Tohru, he rakes his hands through his scalp. He's sweating too, but it's not just the apartment.
"Where's the glasses?"
One-track minded, he simply can't help himself. Cute girls are his sole weakness, and coupled with the crushing realization that he had been all too dismissive of you-- he was trying in his own special way to bridge a one-sided gap.
You're confused for a second. He's never commented on your appearance before, so it throws you off.
"Oh," You laugh, "I... only need them to read."
After an odd, awkward glance, you lead him to your bedroom. It's where you had been able to hook up the most fans, where the sun wasn't directly in the window.
"Do I have something on my shirt?" You ask, as you begin setting up your study space on the cool hardwood floor. It's too warm to sit anywhere else other than your low table.
"What?" He breathes, eyes raising to your face once more.
You both sport similar, embarrassed expressions. Nobody protests to getting started, for real this time.
It quickly devolves into senseless intellectual violence, though. He's clearly not trying, and you are having to do all the work again.
He squints, jaw working at that perfect little top. He taps his forefinger on his bicep, savoring in the sight with another quick inhale.
"Damn.." He groans at the sight. He kind of? covers it with an eye roll, "This shit is ridiculous."
"Just- !! Shut the fuck up," Your hand is palm-out and shaking close to his face, before it slowly, painfully, closes into a fist and bangs onto the table.
Sure, he must have been godly on the volleyball court to have even been admitted into your university, but he was actively making his incompetence your problem for one too many late nights.
His helpless tone and lack of arguing back are leaving you completely unchecked. With lots of ammunition against him, this hot-ass room, and ample pent-up anger to fuel you, the feelings start to spill out at once.
"Wha-awha'ddya mean?"
"That one. Right there." You snap.
"I-i I don't-,"
"The damn integer!! On the page!!"
"What! I don't know what you're sayiiiing!!" He cries, hands flying to grab something to relieve him of this stuffiness.
He fans himself with your textbook and relaxes against the side of your mattress.
"This is so dumb..."
"No!" You jab a finger at him, offended he's giving up again, "You are so dumb!"
"So," You look at all the work you've put forth into teaching him. From basic equations- while the clock has been tick-tick-ticking the entire time and you've made no progress tonight. You continue speaking out loud in a listless but cruel murmur, fingers massaging your sore brow, "Fucking. Dumb."
"God-- have you always been so useless?"
As it leaves your lips, regret sets your tongue dry. You look away, reeling at how fast your heartbeat is- made irrevocably worse by the heat in here- and take deep sigh in the silence.
The floor is a little wet where you were sitting moments ago. Ew- you cringe and take a look back at him, preparing to apologize for your words.
Oikawa is very still. Paused, like somebody had pressed a button to make him stop moving entirely. He doesn't meet your eye right away, but when he does, it's... like he's softened. In an odd way.
You apologize anyway, breaking eye contact for a moment, "I'm... uh, sorry. That was too much."
To your surprise, he shakes his head. Just a bit. Like, a miniscule amount. If you hadn't been watching him so intensely, you'd have never noticed it.
"N-no, you're right," He's getting really red at the ears and you only feel worse for your outburst.
He sets your textbook down and places his palms behind him, head lazily tilted to the side as he gets a good, deep chest stretch in. He seethes in your plaintive silence, eyes rolling back for a moment before meeting yours once more.
"Do y'know how hot you are when you're mad?"
His little confession and seemingly genuine shyness around it take you by unpleasant surprise.
"What are you talking about--? I--," You look around, for the cameras, and your heart is pounding again in uncertain desire, "What??"
He giggles at your reaction. He brings a hand up to cover his mouth, then rakes it through his soaked hair.
"Mmm- sorryy hahaa. I gotta thing for that." His brow raises, and he tacks on quickly through more giggles, "Plus, jeez, you're a total sleeper. Didn't realize."
For some sadistic reason, you cannot stop checking him out. His same old practice uniform is horribly distracting today, and once you notice his bulge, you're no better than him. He is constantly glancing around your sticky, exposed skin.
"Look- man, I-I said I was sorry-- I'm not trying to get involved in some blackmail scheme--," You try shake his words to keep some semblance of sanity here.
It's getting to a dizzying level of BS, between the sudden playboy DTF in your bedroom and all the desire to take your clothes off anyway.
"What! You think-," He glances away for a moment, amused, and comes back to you with an awfully convincing amount of sincerity, "You think I'm kidding right now?"
"You are such a dick." You roll your eyes, and shift, heated all over again as you check him out.
"You think I'm gonna fall for this stupid little joke?"
You press on, standing, to maybe help sober up:
"Do you WANT to fail? Because I don't! That's why I've been carrying our fucking grade all semester for you."
You add, super quick, pointing a rigid finger at him, "You're welcome by the way!"
Instead of standing, too, and storming out- he keeps his ass sat. And those pretty brown eyes are drinking you right up.
Oh God, he likes it-- you forgot he likes it. Your blush spreads faster than you can calm yourself down and he thinks that you like it, too.
And, to your fast-growing realization, you kinda do.
It all keeps spilling out, naturally, as you think through his cocky, inconsiderate behavior all semester and the 0s you had been looking forward to circling on his peer review, "You are so disgusting..."
Once again, where should have been an opportunity to defend himself, he's shamefully adjusting his hard cock in his athletic shorts.
"I'm not hearing a no?"
You sigh at him, conflicted, but growing to like him more by the second. He's never not been the most attractive guy in the lab. Maybe even the entire STEM building.
"What -exactly-," You enunciate your words clearly, so he'll give you the straightest answer possible, "Are you trying to do?"
"Y'know- just uhh, ride me a little," He squints, that cocky smirk and low murmur fucking you up, "Get it out of our systems, yeah?"
Ohh. Your blush is hard to hide, the suggestion too appealing right out the gate to act all high and mighty about it. He's staring up at you, well, all over you, with a perfectly content and empty-headed smile.
"Well... at least let me see what you're working with," You grumble- half convinced and fully turned on.
That was subject to change, though, if his cock was anything less than his confidence was letting on.
"My-? Oh, sure," He chuckles.
He's stumbly as he rises to his feet. You share a brief, loaded glance at the sudden height difference but you successfully end it by looking down.
Your hand finds your hip, eyes wide with curiosity as he stretches his waistband out.
Yeah. That was... yeah. You like that.
You blink at it a few times and try to get it together before you look back up at him. It's adorable, how you think you hide your thoughts so well. It helps get him off, too.
"How big would you say that is? A number."
"Mm, I dunno-," He chuckles, apologetic, and shrugs, "Never measured."
"Right..." You sigh.
"Probably can't count that high anyway."
A bright blush floods his fair-skinned face. You're so quick even though you're clearly not in your comfort zone.
He leans down and closes the distance fast for an unsure, but deeply needed kiss. You return it when you catch your balance- or, start to trust his, rather, and relax against his soft lips.
Do you even have TIME for this shit?
God- you really, really don't. But he is a rare fuck for a girl like you. You're used to STEM weirdos and maybe the rare mechanical engineering guys always trying to one-up you because you don't belong in their spaces. The medium-ugly classmates you tried in the past always trended from shy and approachable at first, to straight up misogynists with a superiority complex by the time you cut them off.
You're both gasping a little when you pull away. When he goes back in, he doesn't pay much mind to the fact that you're grinning and trying to pull away.
"Mmh- Oikawa--,"
Between blind and deaf kisses, he demands you call him Tohru. One hand swallows up your lower back- the other takes the back of your neck to help guide you.
The butterflies that take to swarming around in your belly inadvertently leave you weak, leaning into him, just to stay standing.
He was really good. You could've guessed. It was part of the stereotype. But if left you unprepared- and jumpy at his ability to leave you swooning.
You pull away, weak, and shaky, and panting. You're in for one, then two, and then after six more you're more than willing to straddle him as he guides you to grind on his lap and--
"Wha-? H-a, hahaa," You dive your chin to the side to avoid his kiss again, dizzy.
"Fuuck."
His palms are massaging your sides, your lower back, and your hips, steadily melting your tension away.
"Fuuck," You sigh harder at his skilled mouth over the side of your neck.
Then, he pushes your hips down to straddle his hardon-- and you gasp, tensing all over.
"Okay-okayokay," You clear your throat, buzzed off of his drug-like skill.
"Hm?" He fixes his hair, smiling, like he's fine and this isn't a little weird.
"Oi-Mm-mm, Toh-ru," You glance around his face, from his blacked out, easy-going eyes to his perfect lips, parted for easier breath, and the shimmery layer of sweat all over. You have to collect yourself, "What about the exam?"
You watch his pupils contract, in real time, at the mention of it. He blinks, dumbfounded, and shifts his weight.
It jostles you slightly so you have to pull back and fix yourself. You clear your throat while you have the opportunity.
"Mm... I'll, ahh..." A bit smaller, he puts his hands behind him once more.
You shudder at the lack of touch and the way he absentmindedly moves his hips to get a bit of friction going between you. This fucker is way - too - good.
"I'll come over again?"
You hold your breath.
Who would have guessed this cold-natured prick with a knack for making your life a living nightmare would be giving you these big, brown puppy dog eyes now?
"Absolutely not."
His jaw drops instantly and he starts to complain, confused and frustrated, but you shove your palm against his stupid mouth to shut him up. It's satisfying finally getting to do it.
"If you come over again, you'll never leave."
While he chews on that concerning, hauntingly sexy threat, you explain:
"We should go somewhere that's more... professional. Public. Probably should've done that to start, yeah?"
You watch that comment sting in real time.
When you release him, he's contemplative, instead of simply distracted by you. He scratches his tummy again and your eyes widen at the casual muscle underneath.
"Library... tomorrow?"
"Yeahyeah- library tomorrow- raise your shirt up a little."
His eyebrows raise, a laugh ghosting his lips.
"Kayy," He smiles and takes the bottom of his shirt between his teeth, hands submitted to support his weight from behind.
Your hands slip across his soft skin, and when you press, you're shocked to find that the muscle isn't 'rock hard.' It's still fleshy, and gives with pressure of your curious fingers.
"Mmm- you like that?" He giggles.
Mindlessly, you nod, "Mhm..."
You use both hands to thumb into all the divots of his plump abs. Exploring the lines that trickle across his sides and dip down into his v-line. Now that was harder. His whole pelvis felt justifiably very powerful.
As your nails trace lightly across his waistband, he bucks up at you with a whimper.
You're shocked from your slight trance and look back up to his face-- he's grimacing, and a bit teary eyed.
"Take it off," Your soft instruction breeds immediate action.
When he tries to lay down, you shake your head, slide off of his lap, and beckon him to stand with you.
Now he's a little weak in the knees, nervous, and twitchy as you feel up his strong back.
"Wow..." You mutter against his gorgeous skin. He's got a few moles across his shoulder blades- each practically begging to be kissed- and he has to grit through each tingly one with balled up fists at his sides.
His shoulders are so strong and wide, when you prompt him to flex, excitedly twirling around every angle-- that is for sure a competitive build. It was a relief to know he's actually good at something.
He gives you a breathless, hot chuckle, "You done creamin' over me or what-?"
"Not nearly," You admit, and take one of his arms, literally weighing it, in yours.
He pouts and shivers at your hungry hands. You grab at his lats once more and pull him around.
You're inquisitive. It's just your nature. And now you'll never screw a skinny guy again, that's for sure.
"Feels like you're gonna chop me up, mix me with somethin' and measure me out..."
He whines at how cruelly you kneel, just to try to wrap your hands around one of his big, powerful legs. You can't even manage to get his quad to fit, let alone everything else. His skin is so smooth under his shorts, albeit sweaty like yours, but much, much stronger.
"Y'know, at this point..." You gaze for a couple seconds, trying to calculate how big his package actually is according to what you've seen so far, "I might do that for extra credit."
"M-mmh!" He's super whiny at your quick over-the-shorts kiss to his print.
As you rise to meet his gaze, he's placing his arms around you and leaning to mutter in your ear,
"Can I taste you?"
He's beyond huffy now, practically grinding up against you, and asks- yeah, asks- if you'd let him taste you.
This brat never once asked to do anything for you, before. It leaves you squinting, a bit cold-- like, why now?
"Mm. Do I really look that different?"
He couldn't believe you didn't just give him an easy yeah.
"Honest?"
"Honest."
"You... don't carry yourself well. I dunno why you think you need to slouch so much- and... you don't do your hair super well, either. You look better without glasses. And... way better without safety goggles."
Even though you asked for honesty, it still pisses you off.
"That was a bit much." You scan him up and down.
"I can make it up to you," He suggests- still playful- and doesn't give you time to stew in your assessment of him, because he's bringing you in for another rough kiss, and pushes you up against your wall.
Your back hits the surface hard, but he keeps your head safe and secure in his palm.
"Mmh-!"
He's infuriating, and confusing, and horrible because he's so hot and this will not last. He literally took the breath out of you. None of that is enough to make you stop him from stealing those tiny shorts off of you as he sinks to his knees.
He keeps his mouth open and his tongue nice and fat, like a good boy.
"O-hh," You're weak again, trembling, at his skill, "H-ahh..."
It keeps catching you off-guard. This position is enough to make you unsure, too, but damn does he look good down there.
"Fuck..."
Your fingers slide into his roots and his brow screws up at the sensation. That slick tongue slides back into your heat and right against your sensitive clit.
You gasp, and gasp again- at his strong arms hooking around your thighs. It can't be understated, how interested you were in his athletic ability, how sure you are that you will never settle for less in the future.
Gazing up at you, making you feel good in ways you've never felt before, this man looks totally natural. As if he's given you nothing but affection this whole time.
That tongue-- you hated his stupid mouth, how he could never just shut up in class. Now you were actually putting it to good use.
In truth, it's an apology- of sorts. He doesn't like carrying guilt, but he does like that you're mad. He can't help but get a little excited at a girl yelling at him.
He gets enough of the begging and groveling, himself. It's a tired old story at this point. Girls lined up in high school just for the chance to talk to him, so none could blame him for getting a bit desensitized to it.
What he would never admit is that he actually had a moment of clarity recently. Where he saw through your nerdsuit after, on attempt #2 and 15 minutes to spare for your final weigh-in-- you snapped your fingers at him shushed him, real sharp. Much like an owner to its misbehaving dog.
He simply didn't think you had it in you. So he smiled all to himself, sat back, and studied the tension in your face as the value failed to meet the range you needed. It was sexy.
"F-uck-!"
You are trembling from the pleasure. You weren't about to tell him that you've never been ate before, but it's starting to show, because your shaking hand is slipping from the condensation from the walls, and you're short of breath, and he looks so at ease, but focused and--
Gasping, your whines clip high as you let your orgasm wash right over you.
He's got the gall to keep going, too. He laps, loud, at your soaked pussy like he actually believes you won't yank him away.
Your fingers tighten in his hair and, both of you weak and wincing, you manage to push his eager tongue away. It doesn't get a break, though, because you are very clumsy as you slide down the wall and straddle him. Knees banging, teeth clinking and all.
You both fall right onto the floor, kisses extra lubricated and pussy-flavored now. You're also not so nice as his head bangs onto the wood. The journey is so loud and creaky and full of thudding that you fear you'll get a noise complains from your downstairs neighbor.
"God-," His chin is actually slick, and you pull away to wipe it off for him before going back in for your due kisses.
Oikawa is fast to pull his cock out- he doesn't even both taking his shorts all the way off at this point, because he wants your weight on him. He wants your heat, to not make you wait for a second longer, and is fine with his back on the hardwood floor so long as he can fuck you already.
You're startled. You make a cute noise of surprise against his hungry mouth when you feel it, thick and hot and pulsing against your needy cunt.
"Never been on top before," You sigh, grinding, although a little reluctant, as he pushes and pulls you over his length.
You assume you're less experienced than him, he assumes you aren't experienced whatsoever. He wastes no time inviting, forcing, all of your weight on him.
"Well, first rule is to try and crush me," He laughs at your cringe when he takes his cock in his hand, "'Try.' You can't, but- y'know."
His kisses are distracted, maybe bordering on lazy, buzzing against your temple while he lines himself up with you.
"A-hh-!" You flinch, trying not to make a huge deal out of his dick so as to not inflate his ego, but it's not easy getting used to. It's actually pretty tough. You weren't expecting the struggle.
"Yea-h, there you go," His soft, constant encouragement does help, a lot, as you mumble and murmur and twitch.
"Good- fuh-ck, fuckfuck goood, good..."
He has to wait for you but he doesn't express any impatience, really. He's drinking you up as you sit a little further up on him and push on his chest. He won't tell you that it hurts a little.
"Sooo wet for me," He hums to himself. His eyes are wild, searching your body. Pretty Thing- that's what they're saying.
"Y-eah, wh-atever," You wear a bored pout, wincing, at his size, "Cause' you drooled all over me..."
"F-uck, fuck you're so ti-ght," He seethes as you try sitting back on him. There's a whine quick to follow.
Your eyes have to refocus for a few seconds, gasping, as he bottoms out-- your nails dig into his bouncy chest. He's much more hung than you're used to. The girth was the hardest thing to get used to.
"G-ah-! Fucking--h-mmn, you're- you're...big..."
"Y-eah?" He eggs you on as he keeps slapping his hips up into you, "Too- big for you?"
You sneer down at him.
You know what he's doing and take his stupid, chiselled jaw in your hand as a warning.
He eats it right up. His elated groan is proof.
"Hm-mm-- that's good, ah-ahhha..."
"What? This pussy too good for you?" You push his head to the side.
Your attitude had peaked, and you wait, curious, slowly sitting back and forth on him, to see if he actually likes the aggression- or if he was just bluffing.
Before you can place that hand back onto his chest, he nabs your wrist and settles it around his neck.
Being purposefully hurtful is not a practiced skill in the slightest, but his entitled and simple perspective on all things insofar makes it much easier to indulge his odd preferences. In a way, you are -still- doing him favors. It's just that this one, unlike chem lab, was actually enjoyable.
You squeeze, and with it, your heart skips with titillation, with found power, over his barely-there whimper. Oikawa is flushed and damp with sweat.
Maybe boundaries and expectations should've been a conversation, but the thought didn't and doesn't cross either of your minds.
Your eyes roll back- words uneven but not broken like his- as you ride and taunt him.
"Soo pathetic."
You know all the big words to make him crumble.
"You're too cute... but there's nothing going on up there, huh?"
His hand dwarfs your wrist as he pushes, adding pressure to your chokehold. Looks like he's drowning, lost in your features.
"Hm?" You smile, curious, as you study his huffing and whining.
He fills you up so good it puts your toys to shame. You're greedy, and you want another orgasm bad. If only just for the sake of saying you came twice fucking the volleyball team captain.
"Mmnh- ah- ahha-!" Oikawa cringes, adorable, at your nails digging into his sensitive side.
It makes him buck up into you just right. His hand flies to find yours and interlocks your fingers and he throws your weight forward by placing it next to his head.
It's not as sweet as it looks, because you were hard pressed to take your hand back. His grip was insane.
Once again, he is aggravating- because he's such a performative little brat just trying to make things harder on you.
Despite strong grip on his throat, he giggles and teases you: "What- y'ca-n't- fuck-- mmh!"
His inability to finish his sentence is so rewarding. You can control where he looks, with a slight shift in your wrist.
He winces, mewling, at the way you roll your hips on him.
"Can't what?" You beckon through gritted teeth.
At some point, he just starts repeating himself and it all falls off into unfinished gibberish.
You're pretty satisfied with yourself overall.
Until your left thigh starts cramping.
All too fast, your legs were betraying you. You were wobbly, at best, and panting. In tens of seconds, you realize you weren't going to be able to keep this up, as is. You weren't very practiced, and it makes you shy as he feels you, sees you, start to withdraw.
"Hm?" He cocks his head and blinks off some of his high, properly confused.
"T-ired-," You blush, trembling bad even though you've long since relaxed your thighs. You expect him to maybe roll his eyes or click his tongue at you.
But he subverts your expectations for the thousandth time and laughs, cooing, "Mm, that's o'kay that'sokay- I goootchu."
He takes a few moments to adjust you and truly grip you the way he needs. You think he's taking forever, and that your precious chance to cum again with soon disappear, until he actually starts fucking you.
"A-Hh-!" Your nails dig into scalp, his skin.
He fills you up again and again, the sound of it filthy and loud, as he brings forth a kind of panicky unsureness at how to handle so much rough and ready pleasure.
His cock is perfectly slick and full and hot- you want him, and beg him, deeper, and harder, pitiful and muffled into his shoulder.
You've never been able to relax against somebody like this before and trust that they can handle. Oikawa makes it seem so easy- supporting your weight comfortably, without effort, without complaining, and makes you feel so good. Your standards will never again be lowered out of sheer desperation.
However. This asshole made you work so hard when he could screw you like this the entire time? You don't have the room to be bitchy about it- because you're gasping, pawing, again.
"Ohh my god- I'm-- Mn!" You sob into his shoulder, forced into another early orgasm.
You're having to take his breathy grunts and groans right against your ear-- an overwhelming, tingling sensation that spreads down that entire half of your back.
And as he gets closer, he wraps his heavy arms around you, palms flat in more of a tender hug, than anything.
He finishes between you, thank god, because that also wasn't a conversation, and could've been utterly disastrous.
It takes a minute of coming-to before either of you can actually speak to each other. The air is a bit tense now that you've 'got it out of your system.'
He's better -and faster- at filling silence than you, "Best you've ever had?"
All you can do is laugh. He's got no idea how right he is.
It's... so hot. You're both drenched, and the floor is dangerously slippery. He hums in discomfort when you sit up on his poor, sensitive cock and jam his hips harder into the unforgiving floor.
"Yeah, I'll miss it," You grant him an ounce of sincerity, voice low, reflective, and sobered.
"We got 'til finals," He remarks, flat.
At first, he sounds like he's reverting right back to the the guy who talked shit about you from a foot away that first day of class.
But you see the softness in how he checks you now. For a reaction, for the reward of getting under your skin. You decide to take the bait because you want him, and this, again.
"If we pass midterms," You withdraw before he can bring you in for a kiss, or cuddle, and he practically sobs at you.
Your smirk is hidden when you turn to grab the rest of your clothes, "Get out, dumbass. See you tomorrow."
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Ი𐑼 post-note. dude...5k of oikawa...this was insane for me
good friends who lick up the trail of ice cream that has dripped down the valley of your chest and suck on your tits through the flimsy excuse of a bikini top for good measure
open relationship - yamaguchi x reader x tsukishima
Ი𐑼 pre note. another, filthier, "tadashi's pretty girlfriend" based on a request. the only reason this isn't an answer post is because i accidentally deleted it on mobile while swiping through my inbox lmfao
warnings. explicit nsfw. minors DNI. pretty freaky
content. 6.5k words || angsty smut or smutty angst? || secret relationships || secret-er open!relationship || poly!yama || poly?tsukki || grayed lines but a clear hierarchy || overstim torture || power play || riding || bottom!tsukki || exhibitionism/voyeurism || first yama smut || sexually charged roughhousing || getting too attached to your third
A symphony of shoes squeak against the linoleum floors. It overlaps loud and frenzied voices, shouts of dismay, even some maniacal laughter. The storm outside is muted as you slide the gym door closed, but it isn't silenced. It still roars against the metal walls.
Sure, you're spooked at the sudden downpour outside but, all things considered, you made out well. As you glance about Karasuno's fellow senior class, they're drenched in their practice clothes. You had some luck staying kind-of dry with your rain jacket.
You quickly shake it off at the entryway while the others slip, soggy and shivering, to change into their shoes. Even though you're trembling from the cold a little too, it's not the same. Wet cold was so much worse.
There's a voice above your head.
"(Y/n)."
Tsukishima's clothes are practically see-through.
He stares at you for longer than necessary. There's an uncertainty that deepens his frown. Coupled with his blind squint down your body, it makes you a little more than shy. You give him a few looks and a gesture to stop his hovering as you hang your jacket on the rack, but he doesn't pay your warnings any attention.
When you finally glance down, you find that his lenses -in his hand- are littered with tiny drops of rain.
"You mind?"
"Oh. Oh-yeah. Sure, sure."
You take his glasses tenderly. If you fucked them up, or god forbid-- dropped them you would pay for it later. Tsukishima acts like he isn't watching you clean them off. You try to mimic how you've seen him do it before, but his standards are higher than your skill.
So, it takes you a while. He shifts from leg to leg, squinting around the gym as the team disperses, with crossed arms. He makes eye contact with two dumbasses but doesn't know it.
Across the gym, already warming up, Hinata has his head cocked to one side.
"Isn't that weird?"
Kageyama stiffens at the fact that Hinata beat him to what he was going to say.
"Shittyshima isn't nice... why's he being nice?"
Tsukishima takes them back by the nosepiece and peers hard through the glass before they're good enough to put back on his face. He takes a quick glance around. It isn't thorough, because he trusts that his scans from before, unassisted, were sufficient.
Hinata watches him lean down- and fully believes he might be whispering something to you, until you lean up, stumbling, and touch his face. It's a secret kiss.
Both of their jaws drop, and they turn to each other at the same time, dumbfounded and silent. Panicked. Nobody else saw that.
They immediately scramble around to search for their Captain.
It's not 'official' but everybody knows that you and Yamaguchi have something going on. Even worse: you're everybody's favorite couple. Always sharing sweet looks. Hesitant, but eventually sitting next to one another on the bus-- because why wouldn't the manager sit with the Captain? Always unavailable at the same time. Always studying together. Both terrible secret keepers.
Based on optics alone, you are trampling all over that sacred status quo.
But Yamaguchi is unfazed by their jabbering, and talking over each other, and correcting/re-correcting their very shaky retelling of what they thought they saw. He lets them go on for a time, until they've exhausted themselves and stare, huffing, and confused.
"Guys, guys- relax. okay? Let's all breathe, yeah?"
Hinata follows his instructions, but Kageyama doesn't.
"In- hold, then out."
"She's cheating on you." Kageyama interrupts, but his firmness is short-lived. He whips his head around to make sure Tsukishima wasn't going to snipe him with a punch or a kick.
An uncomfortable, but un-threatened expression doesn't quite cover it.
"Ummmm..." Yamaguchi struggles to respond.
They're not so panicked anymore, so they start picking up on his unusual body language. How it's clear that he cares, but refuses to ask for clarification. Something they're more than willing to give, and a missing piece of the conversation that leaves everybody waiting for the next natural beat. It just doesn't come.
"O-kay, we... will," Yamaguchi glances at his watch and jumps at the opportunity to tell them, "We'll talk about this later, 'kay? Gotta start warm-ups."
"Warm-ups?"
If there was one thing those two were pros at, it was forgetting every single thing that did not relate to volleyball. Practice was fine. They didn't try to meddle, and saved him the headache on the court-- but they were extra persistent afterwards. Hanging onto a promise, now.
He barely escaped their questions. Half-baked answers, avoidant eyes, and stutter-y excuses filled the space of their expectations. Yamaguchi was mild, sure, but this far exceeded the bounds of what they expected him to tolerate. It was awkward in the locker room until he left. In-toe with Tsukishima.
Two pairs of eyes tracked them through the tiny window, defeated.
"Did we, like, offend him?" Hinata pulled off his drenched practice shirt by the neck.
"Fuck if I know."
Kageyama ruffled the sweat out of his hair with a dirty shirt. He sneered at Tsukishima's cubby, and the stupid red lock he used. Nobody else actually secured their stuff but him. He jiggled the lock just to fuck with it. It didn't give. He kicked the bench in the center of the room.
"Shit."
Hinata was muttering to himself, considering what else they could possibly do, what options they had. It was scarce. And they were out of people to go to. If they should even care was starting to become a bigger question than Do they have evidence?
"Ain't our business," Kageyama sat on the crooked bench. He looked up through his fingers at the red lock again.
It's not like what they said didn't change anything. Yamaguchi was late to respond to Tsukishima multiple times after practice, like it was all on his mind. They didn't pair up to clean like usual. They spoke sparsely while they changed-- yet, they left together.
It didn't bode. Something was off. And that made them anxious- unsatisfied, and twitchy.
You silence your phone on Tadashi's mattress with a good look at the screen, filled with messages from Hinata.
"You could stand to be a bit more careful, you know," Tadashi delivers a soft kiss to your temple. When you look up at him, he's staring past you.
Kei's face screws up at once.
"What?" is bitter. He spits it out like venom.
It makes Tadashi scoff at once, and all of a sudden, your routine study session feels shy of comfortable. You bite the inside of your cheek and shift, so you're not obstructing their view of one another.
Tadashi is nothing but cordial, "You heard what I said."
Cordial, polite, whatever you want to call his tone- those are still fighting words. Especially to Kei, who cannot stand to be corrected outside of the sport you all share. Even that was a hard-fought battle.
tch.
You share a look with Tadashi. This time, it makes you smile, which makes him smile back- which makes you grin- which makes him laugh.
"The fuck is so funny?" He mutters with a big, dramatic eye roll.
He takes a seat at the desk, quick to put his headphones on, as he rifles through the start of your homework. Tadashi shakes him off with a smile and stretches back onto the mattress. His tummy peeks out from the hem of his shirt, so you finish the job by hiking it up and running your nails along his subtle happy trail.
You love that he doesn't get worked up. He takes things with a grain of salt. He's so patient; way more than you. But, he's also far less convincing. With Kei, there came a critical point where he wouldn't listen to Tadashi. You bridged the gap, at least for now. It was a work in progress.
You sigh through your nose and take a long look at the flexion in Kei's jaw. He jots notes down quickly, flips his pages fast and loud, and curls up over the desk like he's trying to keep you two from peeking.
"Tsuuu-kiiii."
You pad over to him in your socks- Tadashi flips onto his side to watch as you lean on the desk and obstruct some of his work.
You might be the only person in the world who could do things like this. Getting close, in his space, that is, and coming out unscathed. Kei doesn't even look at you when you pluck his headphones back off.
He addresses only you, in a mumble, "Nobody was even watching."
"Apparently..." You lead, with a look towards Tadashi, and brush some of his hair back, "Shoyo saw."
tch.
"Why are you so worried about that stupid runt?" Kei snaps.
Tadashi is quick to argue back, palms sliding down his freckled face, "Because that 'stupid runt' might tell everybody. We don't need that! And-- I covered for us. Me."
You both understand that his attempt at 'covering' probably dug a deeper hole than intended. He was the worst liar out of you three. There was no way this predicament was going to be over.
Kei sets his pen down with a heavy, irritated sigh.
He hangs his head for a moment, thinking up some ways to get out of the trouble he got you all in, and mindlessly scans you.
His fingers twitch.
At first, when you all wordlessly agreed that this 'arrangement' could work, you and Tadashi shared a hypothesis that Kei would get bored. That once you weren't untouchable, his infatuation would wane, and his interest would shake, and he would fuck off.
But, so far, after month in the making, he still can't get enough of you. His appetite was simple and, for better or for worse, insatiable.
Their friendship, by association, had also seen some marked changes. While nobody could ever 'train' the snark out of Kei, he was now quicker to turn it off. The guilt after he was wrong, or just being an ass, was more pronounced. It humanized him. Gave you both something to pick on, in good spirit.
You reach out to his hard-working expression and thumb the worry from his brow.
"Don't you think you're being a little defensive?" You ask, gentle, but regardless of tone- are unsure if it'll set him off.
He simplifies things by shoving his face into your tummy. His fingers gather the fabric of your shirt. It's Tadashi's, so there's enough excess to remain covered, but he rides the line and hikes it up to your hips.
"Mm."
"'s not an answer," You giggle.
Kei remains silent, aside from his heavy huffs into your bunched up clothes. Your study session, once again, is compromised- but for a different reason, this time.
Tadashi is actually a pretty bad cuck by definition. He's not a sidelines kind of guy; he never was. You were his first, so he doesn't sit tight when things threaten to heat up between you and Kei. He wants in.
"'Mm asking for an apology, Tsukki," He mumbles into Kei's hair and punctuates with a small kiss.
You shiver a little at the Captain voice. Rarely did it make an appearance off the court, so it carries a distinct weight in the bedroom. And Kei is worse at hiding how much he likes it. Pink at the ears and holding his breath.
But he's not getting an apology. He'd sooner drop dead.
You make his reaction worse by smothering him, palms warming his already hot cheeks. He shifts against you, uncomfortable, but doesn't pull away. He's where he wants to be.
"Where is it?" You can't keep the giggle down as you good-cop bad-cop him.
"Tsukki."
"Where's his apology?" Is so sugary-sweet it raises the hair on the back of his neck- pupils growing, under your pretty smile.
Something about Tadashi getting a bombshell girlfriend so quickly, so easily, broke him. What started as a blind, furious need to get back at him became a little more reverent.
With it came the hesitation to knock all these beautiful building blocks of your relationship down. And Kei was okay watching, but Tadashi always did like his best friend a little too much, didn't he? The invite to join you was inevitable.
Kei melts, fingertips hooked, but still, under your panties. You feel his open-mouthed sighs on your lower stomach as Tadashi sucks a few messy kisses into the side of his neck.
He grips that beautiful blond head hard. Tadashi doesn't have to act tough to seem that way; he's just direct. "Say, 'I'm sorry.'"
He grins at the sting, slow, and sleepy. You note how it spreads all the way to his eyes, because most of his smiles don't.
"You're sorry."
Oh, okay- it wasn't physical. He reveres himself that much.
He gives a big, sharp sigh at how roughly he lets go. He mumbles something under his breath as Tadashi rubs the tired lines from his brow.
Kei's snickers buzz against your shirt. His big hands are no longer distracted, as they palm all the flesh they can grab. Your lids are low as he sucks candied kisses into you- not choosy, not hesitant. Just wherever he can get to. Ribs, tummy, sides, breasts. It's all the same. A beautiful opportunity. You meet your boyfriend's gaze for just a moment, and understand you've been playing favorites for slightly too long.
"It's okay, baby," You comfort Tadashi, arms out, to invite him closer to you.
Annoyed, he still takes you up on it. He sinks into your body to act as a big obstruction. Kei scowls at his sudden loss of space and fixes his glasses. He sits back, but plays with the plush of your closest thigh, dissatisfied and searching you two.
Though it was tempting to tease and tell him how badly he walked into that, you weren't one to rub salt in the wound with anyone other than Kei. So you smile against Tadashi's soft lips, primed and eager to deepen his kisses.
Even before Kei had a place in your heart, you never held your affections back in front of him. And now there was a thrill to it. Unashamed. Performative.
Tadashi's hand swallows up your ribs, his thumb hooked under the curve of your chest, his breath warm and familiar.
Despite the teasing, the taunting, the push and pull of who's-gonna-take-this-thing-further, you found yourself still a bit shy around Kei.
At three years soon, you find yourself getting more disgustingly domestic with Tadashi by the day. You split meals without asking. You knew how every intimate part of his routine; from how he needs to fold his shirts, to how he puts his contacts in, to the exact location he liked his slippers in the morning.
This bitter, judgy, difficult addition to your lives was plenty exciting, but unnatural. He likely didn't even know the extent of it.
So when Kei stands up, and the air above you gets thicker -heavy- with tension, you shrink into Tadashi's chest.
The whimper just spills out.
Tadashi throws a glance to Kei, impressed, but chuckles at you, "Oh, yeah?"
Tanned fingers stumble down to your panties, over Kei's own. Palms slip over knuckles, their shared confusion fast but fleeting, his contact helping only as a brief, 'Go ahead,' because Kei does all the quick work of stripping you.
A real struggle turns Kei's face into a mean one.
As he rises again, he's all too proud of himself, "What was that?"
The embarrassment gets you hot, but their reactions are what's truly unbearable. Tadashi, though amused, gets messy and impatient. Kei gets bold. And unbelievably greedy. Then they both feed into each other's appetites.
You glance between them, and there it is; dumb and dumber. You always hated when you were getting ganged up on, but it does give you the most leeway. You could say whatever you wanted and still enjoy your pedestal.
"Shut the fuck up." You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.
He's so easy. He pushes back against you, pushes his hands up your body, pushes his tongue past your teeth, pushes you off-balance, pushes his hips against the desk because you're too far back. His groans, frustrated and painfully turned on, rise against your lips.
It always takes a moment for Tadashi to recalculate how to join. The not-naturalness of it took form for him in that regard.
His hands slide across Kei's shoulders, eyes contemplative, touch gentle and full of consideration. It feels good, you can tell, because he's straightening back against it. He barely gets enough time with you to start marking up your tacky skin.
"Don't you owe us something?"
tch.
"I don't owe you shit."
Kei's flushed, strained expression is a great contrast to Tadashi's calm, dark one.
"Okay," He seethes, and they both pause to look at your naked, reclined body. They share an identical expression.
"You wanna be like that?"
Tadashi tilts his head at him. Kei is slow to look away from you, but the words register immediately. His brow is tight, frown deepening, and he matches his ultra quiet volume.
"Oh," He replies, soft, "It's like that."
You stiffen.
"Is it that hard to say sorry?"
You bring your knees up to hug, as Tadashi backtracks from a pretty hard shove to the chest.
They move to where they have more room.
They don't often fight. But this is not the first time they've been heated enough to start getting a little too rough with one another. You stay out of the way, cheek smushed against your knee, as they take the scuffle to the floor.
The first instance was super early into your relationship. During practice, Kei shoulder-checked him and didn't expect a bump back. Offended, he pushed Tadashi, hard, out of disbelief and just to show off-- but he got shoved to the ground instead. Kei scampered to his feet, but they both got tripped up on the ground all over again. Nothing landed, they weren't too hurt, but it was a scuffle everyone talked about for months.
They were best friends the next day and blamed adrenaline, but Tadashi told you it was a really important moment for him. For them. Kei stopped picking on him as often after that.
Kei's short fuse was no secret, but now more than ever, Tadashi toyed with his temper because he had extra leverage with you by his side.
It was cold, so you plucked your shirt off the swivel chair and put it back on. You sat down with a heavy sigh and watched them, a bored tilt to your chin.
One thing you've given a lot of thought to lately was the intimate nature that's defined their relationship for a long time. The stuff that predated you. Tadashi confessed that Kei was a crush of his, but that made it seem like it was something of the past.
You had been given zero reason to doubt his love for you, and maybe it was naive, but you weren't bothered about his obvious double-attachment here. You liked them both, so if he did too, that only gave you more in common.
It was a little simpler when it was just a sex thing, though.
"Say sorry-"
"Fuck you!"
"Say sorry!"
Kei flinches at his shouting voice. There's a second where it's just them breathing.
"...Fuck you."
Your boyfriend rises, shoulders working that thin t-shirt as he wrestles his friend onto the bed. Your eyes drift to his slutty waist, how he's panting, and perched on top of Kei.
You bite your finger at how he could get down and dirty in a way that was in direct contradiction to his sweet babyface. You guessed Kei was kind of the opposite. He flirted with the cool-guy, bad-boy vibe, but at the end of the day, didn't possess much desire to be on top. He liked things being done to him.
"Baby?" Tadashi calls to you, light, but through a big, long sigh, "C'mere, please."
They were both still hard. Or, at least Kei was. And Tadashi was sitting on it.
You take your finger out of your mouth and blink back to reality.
"Oh. Okay, yeah," You grin and float over to the mattress. You hesitate, though, "Mmmm... Don't kick me, Kei."
He's so out of breath but gives you a strained, "Wouldn't-- fucking- fuck! Do that to y'-- augh-- Get off, bitch!"
The Bitch was meant for Tadashi.
Those long legs could have been enough of a weapon to get himself out of his position, but he doesn't use them to twist Tadashi off. Your touch softens him past the point of being tempted to leave.
He's ultra careful not to resist as you slide between his legs and replace your boyfriend. All his strength is being slowly drained because he refuses to be restrained quietly-- especially by a freckly teddy bear.
"You're gonna tell me sorry tonight."
Kei's gaze flits across the folds of that big shirt over you, how it covers where you're sitting, atop his stinging hardon. You're slow, and bored, but you've got this intrigued shine in your eyes when you look at him. You didn't look at Tadashi that way. He loves that it's only for him.
He sighs, "Whatever," with a cold, lasting look to his friend.
It doesn't work anymore. All he gets for his false cruelty is a laugh.
He's even a little frantic at it, at how much he likes that Tadashi doesn't get sheepish. Strong, and loyal, and vindictive.
"You two gonna kiss, or what?"
You crane to glance between their awfully close faces, but Tadashi pushes on your shoulder to make you sit back down. In doing so, he moves away, and the moment is ruined.
Your disappointed mutter only makes them shy further away.
Did they think you were delusional enough to believe that this was only for you? Or were they fooling themselves? Friends don't look at each other like that. Heterosexual men don't fight like that.
"Don't," Tadashi warns you with a slow, but rough kiss. You smile at his intensity, and roll your hips against his friend.
"Mkayy," You chuckle, gaze low to his mouth as he denies you another.
"I'm serious," He pulls away, and forces you to look up at him, "Don't."
You're cute but that doesn't always get you everything you want.
You've left a wet spot on Kei's light grey sweatpants when you take up the offer to play with your toy.
Because that's what Kei is. In this bed. A toy. He's about as docile as one, too, because he stops complaining as soon as his clothes come off. He keeps his opinion limited to sharp looks and the occasional snappy remark or two. He knows that he'll be given what he needs. He can play the long game.
"Mmh!"
"Fuuck...H-ahh..."
When you take his cock, Tadashi's a little busy folding your clothes and putting them away. He's grinning, to himself, at the distant sound of sex.
"That feel good?" He calls to you.
You wince at Kei's size- nails digging into his chest as a warning- and blush at how he bares his teeth at you. He's sensitive but he always the energy, the room, to remind you that you wanted him.
"Y-eah-Ah..."
You're sweet for your boyfriend, but reserve something more acquired for the one under you.
"So good, huh?" Kei mutters, a jab, at your little act. He is such a brat.
You give a sharp whine at how hard he bullies his cock into you, so soon, and place a firm hand atop his; he's so mean when given the chance, even unprovoked, and you're so often taking the brunt of his frustration.
He shushes you, shaking off your hold, so he can grip your precious face.
"Tell him how good this dick is," He grins at your sweet little moans, how you only half-ass fuck him back, because you don't need to try for it to feel good.
When you wrench his hand off of your throat, he enjoys your surprising amount of strength. It doesn't overpower him, not like how Tadashi gives him a real fight, but Kei likes you enough to not resist as you pin his wrists above his head.
"Not very chatty today." He mumbles up at you, staring, at your soft lips. You can't tell if he's disappointed or just observant.
"Don't act like you deserve it."
Tadashi states, back from folding. You're both a little bummed that he still has all of his clothes on.
He wastes no time pulling out your favorite vibrator- running his knuckles all over Kei's sculpted torso as you sit up to use it. You've got this adorable excitement all over you that makes him melt.
While he thoroughly enjoyed any time he got making Kei docile, the feeling didn't apply to you. Your dynamic was different, and only one here could hold the World's Biggest Brat title.
"Such a good girl..." He coos, unable to bite his praise back. He's quick to kiss you and swallow up your noisier sounds.
"Not-ah-! Fair," Kei grimaces, jaw tight at how your pussy is so much harder to deal with when he brought that loud, obnoxious vibrator out, "She's not- a fucking angel."
"That's no way to talk to your Mommy."
A disgusted noise is beyond your concern. You're hardly listening, eyes cloudy with ecstasy as Tadashi takes care of you and Kei stretches you out. You're late to realize that Tadashi referred to you that way.
"Not into that..." He mutters. He throws a nasty, judgmental look to his friend, coming behind you.
The way he flexes inside of you indicates otherwise. You swallow a whine.
"He's lying," You tell on him. It's toneless, but surprise is all over your face.
He huffs, then huffs again. His fingers are unable to cover a shaky smile, "'m not ly-ing,"
"Oh, God...c'mon, Tsukki. You laugh when you lie." Tadashi chuckles.
He lets you hold your own toy so he can fill up his hands with your waist. He brings you up and down, at a pace he wants to see.
"Yeah- juuuust like that baby," He presses a messy kiss to your hair, unable to trust that you'll be steady on your own.
"Oh, yeah. I knoww, I knoww..."
"Mmh! A-hh-ah!" You can't keep up.
Kei shakes with weak chuckles. A brainless shell of the usual ruthless bastard he was. His brutality paused in Tadashi's presence, but curious enough, wouldn't happen without you, too. He needs both of you. Your glassy stare keeps him fixated, feeling special. Or at least different.
He doesn't cum inside-- he's not allowed to.
And you almost get denied your own. But that puppy dog stare never fails to break through Tadashi's determination. He comes back around, obstructing your view of Kei, to make you look at him.
Tears fill your eyes as you finish, filled with his best friend's already tired cock.
You're smiley and pliable and littered with praise for taking it so well.
But, as you drift back down, watching-Kei-watch-you, it's pretty clear that there's more. Tadashi is fully clothed and restless-- dilated, usually kind eyes are zipping from you to the out of breath, pink, sweaty guy under you.
While you back away, and hug the back of Kei's slender thigh, you rest your chin on his knee. You settle, curious and satisfied, as Tadashi takes him in his hand.
"Fuck-!"
Kei flinches, having just painted you in white. He gasps at how different Tadashi's hand feels, and doesn't know whether to tell him to fuck off, because this feels weird, or whine, because he's way too sensitive.
He doesn't get far. Only a stilted groan makes it out.
"I said that I'm making you apologize tonight."
"Wha-t-- is this an Uncle situation? You-- ah- ha, s-erious?"
His eyes dart from Tadashi's slick palm to his face, then to you, as if you'd be any help to him.
You kiss the inside of his knee, hardly unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of Tadashi's slow handjob, lubed with your juices, "You remember that, don't you?"
"Ahh...Shit."
Kei's face is still scrunched, brows together, but his gaze is totally blissed out.
Softer, but tense, "Yea-h."
He sinks back into the mattress, his head heavy, lids even heavier. The expression on his face as he tracks Tadashi's hand melts into the kindest one you've seen on him today.
The difference between the two continues to astound you. Handjobs were nothing for Tadashi, so you rarely bothered. It felt kind of disconnected, more of a pity thing. He once said that if you weren't feeling up for more than jerking him off, he wanted to wait until you were, rather than settling for it.
So you get to wonder, sitting back on your heels, running light lines up and down Kei's thigh, if you were actually bad at giving them-- or if reserving something 'not really worth it' for Kei was another wordless Us versus Him reminder. You desperately hoped it was the latter.
"Mmh-," Kei readjusts sharply. He's wincing, gasping, at how he twists his wrist at the tip. It ruins his edge, forces him to flex, to try and fail to think about something unsexy.
"You wanna say sorry?" Tadashi reminds him.
Their eyes meet. One of them is enjoying this too much, the other is quickly catching up.
"You... are fucking crazy..."
The astonishment in his sigh makes it sound a lot more like What happened to you?
Even though he knows why he's being put in this position, taking it is still too easy. It's still rewarding. Kei likes to win, and that little pull at the corner of his mouth was one you typically only saw when he felt triumphant.
There are many things you notice him do. The ultra comfortable way he placed his own hands behind his head. The sleepy, but measured scan over Tadashi's tanned, plump arms. The twitching of his leg against you, maybe at how you touched him. The ownership of his place between you, behind closed doors only. How the taught lines of his torso kept getting tighter, and tighter- and how his breath kept getting away from him, how hard he resisted making too much noise.
"Do you like being watched, Tsukki?" You ask.
His eyes scrunch shut- he scoffs, into a grumbly moan.
"Wh-at? Ahgh- fuck-! I dunno."
It makes you both giggle.
"You wanna try?" Tadashi is sickeningly sweet to you. He tries to include you as though he's offering a bite of his dessert.
You're not much better. You're eager to bring out more from him and readjust to sit on his lap again, enthusiastic. You frown. You can't hold as much of his cock at once.
"G-od," He flexes, resetting, as two hands replace one.
His eyes are focused on your pretty, nude body as you listen, nod, and try to incorporate Tadashi's coaching.
"F-uck," He seethes, thighs tightening as you edge him pretty fast, "Fu-ck-- fuck-,"
Kei is largely ignored. While he can't take his eyes off of you, you're blushing at how your boyfriend tells you, over and over again, that you're good at this.
"Mm, your hands are so cute," Tadashi chuckles into your temple.
His kisses are light, and his touch roams his favorite parts of your body. It makes a little weak, and tingly anywhere he rubs or grabs.
"Ah-h shit... n-o, mn- Fuck-!!"
It's kind of wild that he cums watching the two of you get lovey-dovey. When your attention is split, and you're a little clumsy, because Tadashi is getting in the way.
His gasps are very tired, and they sound like cries, as you twist away from Tadashi's rougher kisses to see all the cum spill onto his chest.
"Keep going," Tadashi encourages.
He's breathless, and has to really try to stay off of you. He wipes his chin of your shared spit, "Keep going 'till I tell you to stop, 'kay?"
As if you're not turned on enough. You shiver at his words. You couldn't craft a reply.
He swats Kei's hands away before he can grab your wrist. They ball up into fists, briefly, before he runs his palms hard down his face.
"Augh-h-!" He grunts, but doesn't fight, "Fuck you!"
The look Tadashi wears isn't surprised. It's not dull, or mean, or unimpressed, but he's got this almost-perceivable nod, like he had all of this planned out and it was going accordingly.
His lack of a proper reaction makes Kei bitter, and his broken sounds are a confusing mix of pain and pleasure.
"Might need some cuffs next time," He mutters only to you.
A bigger hand envelops your own, dictating how fast you pump him. That happens to be much quicker.
Tadashi is terribly passive-aggressive as he tilts his head down to Kei as he cums again, weak, undone, and wordless, "I can do this all. Fucking. Night."
His gasp- the pleasure of it- is short-lived and cut off by an embarrassing cry.
"Fuck- fuck!"
He's very strong and loud when it starts to hurt. He's shocked how terrible it feels, how the pain spreads all throughout his body in sharp, then dull waves.
Tadashi had never stopped paying close attention, so he can weigh his love-drunken squirming down before it's uncontrolled.
It's funny how everything changes when he's not being pleased, or getting something he wants, or thinks is valuable, out of it.
"I'm s-orry-s-ahh- Ah-!" Kei struggles against his hold, chest heaving, trembling under you, and realizes that he can't win for once, "Fu-ck I-I'm sorry, h-ah!! Pl-ease,"
Though you're grinning ear-to-ear at the sound of Tsukishima Kei saying sorry multiple times, Tadashi looks... less than pleased.
"It's a bit late for that, don't you think?"
You're shocked, and shamelessly into his little show of power.
Kei sobs at your still busied hands, keeping him hard and sick with too much pleasure.
It's a gorgeous sound. All his 'sorry's and pleading and whimpering-- you replay every mean thing he's ever said, revel in how he's paying his dues now, and you're entranced. You don't have the mercy to quit. You get it. You love making him regret his bitchiness.
"Tad-ashi-- ple-asepleaseplease-," He goes straight to the source of his predicament. After all, you're just the pretty executioner.
You run your thumb in circles, under that flared up vein on the underside of his cock, and study the side of his abdomen seizing up, twisting, in agony. You're damn near drooling. You still, he breathes. You move, he cries.
Tadashi sees it click for you, smiles, and finally regards his friend. His gaze moves from you to him very slowly. "Hm?"
"I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry- Ah!" He flinches, whining again, at your cruel, slow pumping, "I-I checked- I did I did-I did..."
You shared a glance. That was specific.
"What?"
You soften, and slow, but don't dare let off entirely.
"H-hah... I...checked, but," Kei's memory is broken and constantly interrupted by right now. His eyes squeeze shut, in struggle, and you care more to hear him out than keep reminding him to feel bad.
His lashes shine, dewy, with a big gasp as he professes, "I didn't... have my glasses on."
He speaks as though it's news to him too. Eerily as though he was stringing you along in a great, devious story. Tadashi's strength fades as he considers the possibilities. A well-done lie? Or a forgotten snippet of the truth? It was too stupid of a mistake for Kei.
Plus: When would he have ever been in those circumstances? Tadashi begins to firm back up, because although he's not laughing, he's got no proof.
"He's right," You say, far away.
It was raining. You were cleaning them off.
Kei is not innocent but he wears sheep's clothing very well. The fact that you were partially responsible makes you look to Tadashi, apologetic, and for a better opinion.
He's quiet for a minute. You've both had a little too much fun. He isn't done hammering the point home.
Tadashi doesn't look away from his swollen cock, and asks, "You out?"
Kei grunts, a little feisty after a taste of a break, "Yes. It'll be a fucking blank."
You had to hand it to him; Kei knew his body well. It was a hard fought fruitless orgasm. He had nothing left.
It's not for a lack of trying, either. You're panting, gasping, and sparkling with the sweat you worked up milking him dry.
You're left a little lightheaded and snappy with Tadashi. But the answer is visible in his eyes after he kisses you.
A tiny, accusatory facial twitch did a lot, but mostly served as a disregard for your pleasure. You bite your tongue when you realize he wasn't going to say sorry. That was your punishment, too.
Kei is grumpy and grabby and tender after a vocal finish. Like, so cuddly that it makes him aggressive.
"Tear my dick off, why don't'you?" Kei snaps. He pulls your entire weight onto himself. He shows no signs of effort, but he's pale and shaking.
He nuzzles his face into your messy hair, sighing, "Fuckin' evil."
Tadashi showers you in kisses. Half of them you register, maybe a fifth of them you catch. You're mostly grateful for your favorite throw blanket- and sigh, trembling, at how they both help to wrap you in it.
"So good, sweetie- you did soooo good," His eyes are still bright with unspent excitement.
Your heavy lids meet your smile, and you rest your head in the ample space of Kei's shoulder. He's hot to the touch, and smells like sweat, but the buzz of multiple orgasms and cuddle chemicals swirling inside of you makes you tolerant.
Kei is worse off than you; dizzy- brutally so, and dehydrated, but less comfortable asking for water, or kisses, or a blanket. Tadashi doesn't know how to work around that brick wall.
"Oh, I don't get any of that?"
"Mm-mm, no, you don't," Tadashi puts an arm around you-- you barely keep the complaints to yourself, because three arms are actually pretty heavy, and Kei does enough smothering for the both of them.
It gets easier, though. The weight makes you extra tired.
"Oh- okay, yeah," Kei rolls his eyes, "Forgot who I was talking to."
"'Ts'alright," Tadashi sighs, sarcasm dripping from his words, "We can't all be perfect."
"You okay? Hm?" He asks you, but all he gets is a light snore in return.
"Guess so."
Tadashi's fingers are filled with blond. His nails scratch light, tingly lines up, and down, and side to side. His smile grows, watching how he can put him to sleep like that. But Kei is fighting against something else, something bigger-- so he props himself up on his elbow and waits. It takes tens of seconds.
"Hey?"
Their eyes meet. It's painful. They both fight the strong desire to look away, like they always do. He's quiet, and quieter still, now that you're asleep. The sincerity is laid all out there. His voice is hoarse and his face is sticky.
"What the fuck is this?"
For some reason, he figured Tadashi would have the answer prepped and ready to go on a silver platter. The only part of this conversation he had considered to the fullest was the effort of asking. So he wasn't ready for the uncertainty that twisted Tadashi's face- or stiffened the fingers in his roots- or made the bed feel super cramped.
His, "I dunno," was only word-decoration, when he finally did spit it out. Kei was already three trains of thought deep.
The silence is not gracious or forgiving. They both feel like they need to say something, but every word fails to be enough, and nothing makes it past the tongue. You weren't working as their usual scapegoat. Tadashi felt childish. Kei felt selfish.
"Are we... okay?"
"Yeah," Was fast, albeit cheap, relief. That's why he says it twice, "Yeah."
Ი𐑼 post note. happy saturday my loves. end dialogue is purposefully vague. so happy i finally did the full tsukireaderyama love letter. now i won't be possessed by them anymore?? i'm free!!! i'm FREE!!!!
Can people stop being cowards and write men crawling, begging and being desperate for the readers forgiveness idgaf why are WE FORGIVING A MAN who cheated on us like i read fanfics so that i can see men beg and grovel, if I wanted to see men being forgiven for cheating i might as well not read fanfics at all
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