แฒ๐ผ heyyy pretties, kate here. i'm asking for some juicy fresh ideas!! in my inbox. i wanna pick some good ones out to feature in my new update post.
repeat requests are cool too (it proves dedication if you submit twice imo).
what's okay to submit? hit me with your best shot. fluff, smut, angst, funnies. tropes, kinks, trends, whatever. mha, jjk, or hq.
hello miss kate!! always nice to see you online (: who are some characters you wanna get better at writing for vs some you just hate doing no matter how hard you try?
hello hello!! :) hmmmm! yk... i'd really love to finally crack the kageyama code. feels like i can't quite get him right. he's just so silly to me.
wc: 1k | brazilian!reader | nasty language barrier | timeskip!hinata | heavy petting | oiled up massage | PDA | tan lines | mention of blackmail | consent king | begging for the tip | mutually horny strangers | แฒ๐ผ i hope this finds the right freaks
"ahhhh... so hottt ! "
you melt right into your favorite beach chair, chin kicked back as you adjust a pair of thin sunglasses to cover your wandering gaze.
that delicious pro volleyball player from japan is out here once again. without fail he is always sweating on your private beach, hitting a ball with his tall friends. night and day. no matter the weather.
that bright-haired vixen has served as your guilty pleasure on your after-work decompression time for weeks now. sometimes, when the sun isn't out, you even watch him play from your window.
it feels dirty, sometimes, as you set up in a spot just right for staring. but you gotta keep the tan up, after all. he just happens to practice on your family's property (blissfully unaware) and you just happen to keep a close eye on him. in case he's not so clueless and tries to leave trash or loiter in a less sexy, productive way.
you didn't know who he was at first, but after posting a pic online, you got a shocking amount of fans asking where you were- how you knew the professional athlete- when it was taken- you quickly deleted it and didn't bother anymore with your socials.
you wanted him all to yourself, and you had a sneaking suspicion this was the only way to do it.
when they take their break, you approach him as he's digging around in their cooler.
when he looks up at you, he quickly looks right back down, bright red. he puts his hand on his neck, sheepish, at your string bikini. it was easier when you were far away, watching their skirmishes, but even that was distracting.
you laugh, and call him adorable, but he doesn't speak your language at all.
he notices what your holding and tries to speak some English as a middle-ground.
"ton-mm- tan- lines," he motions to all of you, your skin, and your eyes widen. you understood that! you laugh, nodding.
you pose and tell him you work hard for it, like he does with his precious volleyball.
his curious eyes roam ravenously over your body. you take the attention well-- it's cute that he's not as accustomed to it as you are.
of course, you simplify anything you say.
because there's nothing better than what you can communicate with your hands. you shake your homemade tanning oil and motion to yourself, then back to your flattened chair.
he hasn't stopped gawking at you, so it's no surprise that he goes right along with it.
his arm flexes as he flips his sunglasses back over his eyes and takes your bottle carefully. he calls something back to his group and they continue their game without him.
he tilts his head at the hypnotic way you walk on the sand, studying how you stretch onto your belly, and trust him -a total stranger- to help you out. he stumbles a little and fiddles with the cap. some of it spills prematurely onto your back.
you tense and give him a look as he -probably- apologizes.
but, he figures it out. soon you're humming, as his muscular hands spread warmth all over your shoulders.
"mmm..." you smile, eyes closed. his shorts are already straining.
he tests exactly how much you're asking for by teasing the tips of his fingers under those skinny, flimsy straps.
you give him a beautiful, giggly grin in return.
wet fingers start slipping into all the right places. your heartbeat pulses hard between your thighs as his thick fingertips sweep once again under your bikini strings.
the pads of his thumbs massage and work the stress out of your lower back. just a fraction of his strength is making your heart flutter, reminding you why you want him so bad.
it's full-on massage as he takes the oil down your legs in long, strong strokes. minutes later, when he's gripping and groping back up, he straddles you to get both sides evenly. he takes his time, but he's greedy, and doesn't shy away from fully oiling up your ass.
you mutter whiny profanities under your breath, and all it does is make him rougher, muttering back at you through heavy, dreamy, sighs.
you don't give a damn that you can't understand his words.
as he disregards your top, in its totality, and swipes the sides of your breasts, down your ribs, and takes all the weight of your heavy hips upwards-- you gasp and bite the towel you're using as a pillow.
he's pushing, pulling at your tender hips, thumbs working into the hard and muscled flesh of your ass. it's one thing short of what you need.
you're already coiled up so tight with barely any stimulation.
"just the tip--," you gasp, "just the tip, please-"
you tell him this, but he doesn't give it to you. you can feel his thick cock through his shorts, getting jammed between your ass. you arch into him, soaking wet at this point from way too much body oil and your own overactive lust.
you look back at him, eyes pleading, to fuck you right here. on your private beach. you were willing to blackmail him at this point if only he'd understand it.
you can't tell if he even sees you through his sunglasses-- and as you realize he won't pull it out, your heart sinks.
you had to de-escalate.
"mm-!" unable to take it anymore, you push yourself up to flip over.
he retracts right away and stands up on the sand instead. intimidated and apologetic at your sudden movement.
"hurry up," you relax onto your back with a little chuckle.
he doesn't understand. he keeps his head ducked toward you. his hands are stained sparkly and dark from your shimmery oil - along with the front of his briefs.
you click your tongue at him, cooing,ย and motion with your palms to come forward. you guide his hands and slide them all down your tummy.
"ahh- sorry, sorry," he nods quickly, relieved, and realizing what you want at last.
he never gets as rough as he was. you figured he was maybe an ass-guy. or that he never recovered from the shock of simply considering you might've been turned off.
by the end, he's squatting beside you and giving the last of a lovely forearm massage. you smile, a little shy now, at each other.
"good?" he gives a thumbs up, cocking his head at you.
you grin, nodding along, and giving a thumbs up, "good!"
before he can turn to go, you beckon him closer.
you sit up, just to meet him halfway. you know he won't comprehend a word of what you say, but you take your sweet time to whisper many dirty confessions in his ear.
every hair of his stands up- his grip on your hand tightens, his breath again becoming uneven.
then, while he's shivering, and a total lust-drunken mess -staring at your mouth and getting closer to your lips, you shove your phone into his chest and knock him on his butt, back into the sand with another playful giggle.
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taglist. @thisiswhereishitpostalot @megapteraurelia @integers @babybird-meena
แฒ๐ผ postnote. experimenting with format :P
content. 1k wc | college au | angsty to smutty pay-off | bullying? | jock doesn't realize you're hot trope | stem major!reader | nerdy!reader | student athlete!oikawa | oikawa is super vain + immature | reply to be tagged for part 3: 'steamy study session'
pre-note. light redirection of reader disposition? less bullying. doesn't really happen in college anyways
"Oikawa. Goggles." Your professor drawls.
He pops his head into your evening session now and then, every time having to tell Oikawa to use his protection instead of sporting them on his head like sunglasses.
He doesn't even spare the effort it takes to complain again. He adjusts them to cover his eyes- then waits 20 seconds, and places them back into his fluffy brown hair.
"We almost done?" He presses.
Part of you wishes he did put them on, for your sake. You'd like more of a barrier between your eyes, so it didn't feel so harsh anytime he pressured you to hurry or asked you a rare question pertaining to your work.
"'We' is crazy," You roll your eyes and carefully drop salicylic acid into the tube up to the line.
He chortles and scratches the back of his neck. Things have improved ever since the professor started taking phones up at the entrance of the lab. And during these later, evening sessions, he didn't have Iwa to serve as a distraction, either.
"Fuck around and be honest with me..." He relaxes against the bench, where he'll be in the way soon when you need to weigh the product, "You totally asked to switch partners, right?"
You tense up.
Module 1 was one thing. All introductory, basically just lecture review exercises, where all the worksheets lacked intentionally complex questions. You got by with doing it all on your own and letting him treat lab like social hour.
Ever since you got deep into Module 2, his lack of assistance started seriously chipping away the minutes. Today was the third instance you had to come back in the evening.
You were lucky that he even showed up to these; team practice ended so close to time that he was still in his workout clothes. The scent of body spray and half-dry sweat would make you recoil, whenever he moved too fast.
"What, like you didn't wanna work with your boyfriend?" You joke, dry.
"Ooh," He grins, and bites his bottom lip, "Did I strike a chord, Daria?"
Daria? Like the cartoon? You frown and shoo him so he'll move off of the bench. He scratches his belly under his thin Nike tech, eyes darting around your frumpy sweatshirt and double-layered goggles like an apathetic predator. When you don't give him the satisfaction of a response, he slowly peels himself off of the blacktop.
"Thanks." You say only as a formality.
You receive a value that, finally, makes sense and scribble it down with fervor.
"You got it?" He leans in, excited to be done, craning to half-read your messy work in the margins and on the numbered lines, "Was that it?"
You swipe the sheet, immediately overwhelmed by his braindead and insensitive invasion of your personal space. You rush it to the desk to be checked while he stays behind. He slowly pockets your nice pen - just because.
"Woo! Let's gooo!" He grins. He cleans all your materials up, as you make your way back to the station with no more paper in hand.
You search briefly for your pen, but assume you've already put it in your bag or your pocket, and take a big sigh of relief to just be finished for the day.
While you massage your sore neck, you watch him flip both of your stools onto the counter. His arms bulge under the short sleeves, stretching the material- and you adjust, warm, as you zip your bag up and sling it over your shoulder. You begin to leave.
"Hey," He calls after you.
"Goggles."
He says it in a bit of a chuckle. You realize that, yeah, they're still on, and give a soft curse. You have to trudge back to put them in the basket.
It's poorly timed so that you have to walk offset to him, leaving the building. He doesn't walk with you and you can guess why.
-
He was typically just nicer when you were completely alone. You began to realize this as opportunities stacked.
Week after week, having to come back in the evenings to finish up was becoming less of the exception and more of a norm.
What truly begins to chip at your patience is the lower and lower grades that you start getting back. It's not that the feedback isn't sufficient; you just, somehow, never have enough time to get these experiments completed according to the instructions.
Midterms roll around quickly.
And as Oikawa chews your gum supply out of existence, watches you work for a total of 6 hours every week, and promotes from active-nuisance to chud-idiot-- you are spiraling at night, falling asleep in your Chem textbooks, and are nowhere near shocked when you get an abysmal practice paper back.
"I did not see this coming..." He grumbles under his stupid, oversized palm.
His Who-woulda-thought shell-shocked expression makes you want to wrap your hands around his thick neck and shake him within inches of his life.
You have to bite your knuckles. You want to accuse him of sabotage and/or murder in the first degree of your GPA. This will not be the first class you retake.
This midterm exercise was supposed to be the best slice of practice that you could get before the real deal next week. It would be the same methods, same reactants, same catalyst. The only differing factor would be amount and resulting end yield.
And the paper crumpled up in your hand boasted a chilling 32/100.
You both pressed your backs into the spiral stair railing. You were alone aside from other students trickling out of your lab as they finished up.
His knuckles come closer, beckoning. You gladly pass him the garbage. His eyes scan it, the marks, the difficult cursive, and he grows rigid at the lack of his own work on the page.
He only understands -maybe- a fourth of the material.
"I know you have-" It takes a lot of effort to refer to his #1 crutch excuse in a civil manner, "Practice. I propose... that we meet up after you're done."
He's quiet, for the first time. You continue in the same careful, even tone. "I don't care where. It just needs to happen."
Oikawa tips his head back with a heavy sigh. Like it's all hitting him at once. He's quiet for minutes.
There's no way he was going let himself be seen with you anywhere but the STEM building. He'd never hear the end of it, the false accusations about his taste in women would never end. Hottie reputation? Over. No, nobody was allowed to know about you.
A flat, defeated, "You got any roommates?"
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taglist. @thisiswhereishitpostalot @megapteraurelia @integers @babybird-meena @polodetti @sweetieelilii @blueberrymumshikens @littleprince-rei @defnot-bri @st0ppleaseee @saltyscoops @berrymunch25
แฒ๐ผ post-note. yay found some time to write today!!
Kateโฆ I need ur take on how Tsukki would react to someone confessing to him? ๐ฅน๐ฅน๐ฅน
quick confession headcanons: tsukishima kei
แฒ๐ผ preee note. sorry for low qual but i am 5 drinks in and can't sleep yet so here you go my bubby sweet sweetie mootie moot <3
whether the feeling is mutual or not isn't even important for a guy like tsukki. he's desperate (check), is a big contact-crush type of guy anyway (check), is a member of the 'unprecedented dopamine crisis' in young men (check)
so, if you're new? if... you've maybe held off because you're intimidated by him- maybe because you've shared eye contact a couple of times for a second too long, or shivered when he stands next to you in line, or stuttered in passing- you're fucking perfect.
the first thing tsukki would do is act like the god is thinks he is. yes or no at the end, none of it even matters, because there's no 'confessing' to kei and walking away with even a shred of dignity.
ohh, and don't worry about having to let it sit in silence, because he would spare no breath to draaaag it out, too. ask and jab at your tender heart with accusations and subtle suggestions like:
'what? you're joking, right?'
'what happens if i say no?'
'so, like, what do you even want?'
'tch- am i supposed to say you're my girlfriend?'
the thing is, he's never shutting you down, he's only trying to make you limp to the finish line because he 1) finds you adorable and 2) revels in the abuse of what little power he can play with.
i think that sums him up. tsukki likes to play around. swat at you like a lazy cat and a clumsy little beetle. he doesn't want to bite, he knows not to. not yet. not until he's had his entertainment first.
guys i feel like i've done kenma this way and that way and upside down and bent over backwards and under the sun and in public and with his best friend..
if you dirty hellions want more kenma you gotta hold me at gunpoint and the bullet has to be like god tier smut idea
student athlete!oikawa x study goat!reader hate each other
warnings. angsty. tw: insecurity + general cruelty. minors DNI.
content. 700 wc | angsty to smut pay-off | bullying | mean guy doesn't realize you're hot trope | tw: insecurity + general cruelty | shy!reader | nerd!reader | student athlete!oikawa | oikawa is super vain + immature | reveal to come, stay tuned + part two here.
แฒ๐ผ pre-note. dropping this little thought experiment to test waters. can't decide if reader will be a subbyish or mommyish in the end yet.. ,maybeee drop a recommendation if u feel some way ab it?
Your heart plummets into your stomach as the lab pairings are listed out for the semester.
"Oh my god..." Oikawa groans under his breath as he yanks the stool out next to you. It's laughably loud as it clatters against the hard tile.
Out of maybe 30 or 40 students in this classroom, would have to sit on that metal stool next to you for two hours every Tuesday and Thursday- as you both struggle to complete a worksheet by the end of class time. And -even better- if you couldn't, you got the privilege of coming back to the lab after 5 p.m to finish it.
You flinch, and he notices, but doesn't care enough to soften for you.
As he settles in, seat creaking, still muttering -despite the teacher telling him to be quiet-, you pull at the collar of your spring sweater. Your neck is hot and you turn inwards, as you feel his sharp gaze under those heavy, resentful eyelids.
It's not new, but it never gets easier.
What concerns you most, at present, is why faculty seems to always assert themselves the wrong way in student social dynamics. Much like jamming a triangular peg into a square hole, sometimes the best thing to do is separate students like you and Tohru, not bring you closer together.
You give a hard, but unnoticed stare to Dr. Yamada during the rest of the lecture. It's your best bet to ensure you don't look at the meathead next to you; you don't want to encourage any further drama.
-
He is an idiot, that much is for sure.
"Name?" He asserts, scribbling his own -only first- name onto the worksheet. You blink. The whole thing is supposed to be done in black pen.
He snaps, "Dude."
He tosses the pencil back down and runs his palms down the sides of his face, as if the second it took you to answer has cost him a year of his life.
Before you can even take a breath to speak, his friend in a similar athletic t-shirt recognizes his voice across the work station. A dark-haired volleyball player ducks under the cabinets.
"Yo! Tohru!!"
"Iwa!"
They share a loud handshake as you slide the sheet to your side.
He's only vaguely quiet as he snips, "Can you believe this shit?"
To add insult to injury, not even a whisper would've gone unheard at this distance.
"Yeahh...Well, what can ya do, y'know?"
Iwa is quieter, but the one-two lands a lot harder when you can't chalk it up to a singular person's bad manners and flawed sense of self worth.
You silently complete the entire first-day assignment yourself. It isn't difficult. It's not meant to be. The time was supposed to be spent getting to know each other.
You even erase his poorly-written name to rewrite yours, then his, full name in proper ink. He discusses their last game with his buddy, only stopping for a Clash of Clans breaks on his phone when Iwa helps his partner out.
Dr. Yamada grades your sheet in front of you; quite possibly the singular good thing about this class. You, and Oikawa, get a big, red 100.
You pause, though, as Oikawa shuffles out of the classroom, sporting mild but fleeting approval at the score. It quickly melts off of his brow once he's gone.
You start: "Sir, I really need to switch partners--"
He spouts off the exact script he's given three or so pairs of students before you:
"Nooo changes to the roster, (L/n). I said it at the beginning of lecture."
"I-I know, I know sir-,"
"Then you know that a partner change is not possible and I won't be entertaining it for any pairs."
You sigh, clutching your paper -yours-, "Sir, he's not gonna do any of this work. I'll be doing all of it, alone. All semester."
Once again, you're met with a brick wall, repeating the same lines to every student, regardless of the reason that they need an exception.
"You'll have an opportunity for peer rating at midterms, and again at finals. I will adjust grade-weight based on those ratings," He looks beyond you, at a handful of students waiting for you to leave, "Next in line."
You shift out of the way, but linger, and watch him grade part of the next paper. You listen to the pairs of girls chatting about nice things, getting to know each other, getting along-- then grip your bag tight and finally leave.
links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my inbox. part two here.
taglist. @thisiswhereishitpostalot @megapteraurelia @integers @babybird-meena
แฒ๐ผ post-note. wrote this a lil tipsy, forgive me for errors
content. 508 wc | teasing | secret relationships | making out | quickie in a closet | shy!reader | goshiki appearance | dirty little secret, light manipulation | golden retriever x black cat trope | lightly smutty fluff
Tendou didn't even need to sprint to the gym. He was already ten minutes late. Another minute or so of meandering back wouldn't change how royally fucked he was or had brutal the afternoon would be.
The team was in the last stage of warm-ups when he walked in, grin plastered on his guilty face.
Your scrunchy around his wrist stood as incriminating evidence. It rendered zero need for a verbal excuse.
The scariest part about Coach Washijo's reaction was that he didn't yell.
"Lu-cky girl..." Coach sang as Tendou slammed his body into the gym floor-- six laps of diving drills later. The sweat was helping him slide better, at this point.
"Was she..." --S l a m !! "Worth it?"
All he could do was laugh through it. In his head-ย even he wasn't crazy enough to laugh out loud at his Coach.
"Mmnh!" He swallowed, shoes squeaking as he went for another but was stopped. He looked down at an expectant face.
"O-h," A moment of hesitation, catching his breath to deliver a strong, smiley, "Yessir-!"
"Wrong!"
Coach tsked at his dumbfounded expression and just shook his head. If Tendou wasn't going to regret his lack of discipline, the only thing left to do was waste the rest of his practice time by sending him across the court, line to line.
"Again!"
It was a long afternoon. Tendou stumbled home wobbly and weak, but not empty-handed.
When you heard about the treatment- more like torture- that he endured at practice, you felt like you could sink right to the floor in heavy puddle shame.
"Oh my god..." You groaned, hugging your pillow.
Goshiki, deep in his recollection of Tendou's one-on-one conditioning, snickered on the other side of the phone.
"I just wanna know..." He bit his nails, leaning, with baited breath, "What were you doing?"
Your head bolted up, brows furrowed tight.
"Nothing!" You felt your face grow hot.
Stolen, messy, tongue-forward kisses behind the barely open door of a supply closet were certainly not nothing. His chilled fingertips, making you squeal and squirm closer into his shirt kept you up late that night. Grumbly crackles of laughter tingling against your hot skin, giving way into moans that stopped short of soft lips, the same ones sucking dark marks into your shaky thighs-- oh, that was certainly something.
How you had to go home with your hair a legitimate mess and missing your favorite pair of panties? Yeah, it wasn't nothing, but... it had to be. For the time being.
Guys from your school's volleyball team, specifically starters, were notoriously not allowed to date. Tendou faced being kicked from the lineup if you ever went public.
"C'mon, (Y/n)..." He groans, always and forever one for hot gossip. You knew better; anything you say would be grounds for the entire Shiratorizawa team's common knowledge.
You insist, sitting up, breath hot through your nostrils, face contorted strangely by your bold lies, "Literally nothing, Goshi."
"No dude pulls up smiling to Coach Washijo's Wednesday practices!"
"Well-- he's not a dude. He's-," You search around with your hands, hopelessly trying to find descriptors, but you end up shrugging, and settling on, "He's Tendou."
Restless quiet in the receiver supports your point. Yeah, he'd pull up to a losing match grinning ear-to-ear, provided he saw his favorite beetle outside on the pavement.
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taglist. @thisiswhereishitpostalot @megapteraurelia@integers @babybird-meena
แฒ๐ผ postnote. this WAS part of a request, but a buffed it out to be a short little thing and a little nastier. :P
vampire!choso that chokes up when you caress his face and whisper that you love him in the morning, despite being years into your arrangement already.
vampire!choso just makes sense because is there any other character so relentless in the pursuit of kindness, soft in his actions, despite the circumstances? not to mention his entire worship-and-praise theme. it's giving very Old Money and dark religious ties. rainy, vast castles - a dark, unsettled forest backdrop- ambiguous early morning howling that makes you cling to the fabric of your nightgown. as if the true danger isn't pressing you against his chest, naturally invigorated by your fussiness; your fear.
vampire!choso that will not turn you. it's the only thing he won't hear you out on. the sole dead-stop brick wall stance he'll ever take. it angers you, because deep down it freaks you out that he can dismiss you, the Powerless Thing, that is ultimately infatuated with him and his nature.
but most appealing is vampire!choso's uncanny and inhuman knack for restraint. you think, sometimes, he must enjoy the deeply personal torture that comes with keeping you around. because how could he have ever spared you in the first place, if not for selfish pleasure?
links. my masterlist. more works. my inbox.
แฒ๐ผ postnote. sorry for the big unannounced break, friends. working full time is buns!! i miss school. writing motivation comes and goes and rarely stays for long enough to start something, let alone finish anything.
แฒ๐ผ pre note. just a little something from the mind palace
warnings. implicit nsfw. minors DNI
content. 1k wc | teasing | tutor!reader | making out | getting interrupted | whiny!suna | prude!reader | conversations around coercion | begging | pathetic!jock x mean!nerd trope | blue balls
โStop that- st-ahh.. ah-,โย
Rin's strong hands were desperately trying to distract you from your ringing phone. The noise, the buzz, was starting to get reach a certain point where every new call was making you jumpy. This was the seventh in a row, and you were about seven times tougher to keep still than when you started.
Maybe sucking on his neck right away was a little too much. Rin was being disproportionately needy and far too handsy to keep up with.
There's a very soft, "What the fuuuuck..." as you push yourself off of him. You weren't going to address it, but his attitude always succeeded in making you defensive.
โYou've been acting like a dog all night."
Your firm voice was nothing but a backdrop to your softness pushing through the dip in your bra.
You left him too easily, slipped like sand through his fingers, but he was too drunk on your lips to force you still in time. So you slithered back to your busy phone, buzzing on the counter.
โOkay- you're blaming me for that?โ He rolled onto his stomach- grunting, shifting, when he has to readjust his hips to make space for his cock against the floor.
Your permanent pout had these confusing, but sometimes rewarding, layers to it. He knew he couldn't judge you based off of a frown; that was your resting expression.
And although he was more of an expert on the range of meanings than anybody else, he couldn't be 100% sure of your thoughts 24/7. He figured he was lying to himself for a while that your situation could be saved, already. The flightiness you'd exhibited today wasn't new. And it wasn't worse than usual.
"Hello?"
He hung his head with a sigh.
Rin slowly pushed himself up, sore from his match this afternoon. You were never as happy to be there as he wanted, but you did always go to watch.
He looked up from the pulsing tent in his lap at your soft, sharp curse.
He knew you wouldn't respond, "What'sup?"
It was so quiet that he could hear the blood flowing in his ears, in tandem with a painful beat in his groin. He knew you also don't respond to grunting, or groaning, or moaning but he makes his predicament known anyway.
Maybe that's why you're so mean when you end the call.
"I gotta go." Your proclamation settled over him like a harsh wind.
He squinted back at you, as though there was a legitimately strong breeze in his dorm room.
You rolled your eyes, and spat out a weak, but true excuse, "What? Kotarou just failed his make-up chem exam."
"Nooo," He groaned beneath his palms, "Don't do that-"
"Do what--? My job?" You turned your nose up at him.
That face. That face that means I think you're so beneath me set his nerves on fire and filled his body with adrenaline all over again. He talked under you, while you held your palm out and shook your head in the other direction.
"Are you serious?"
"I told you I might have to go-"
"You're fuckin' him, aren't you?"
"Don't act like you're dumb!"
"Ohh my god. You're killing me."
A shift -or, hours of availability, rather- that you volunteered for. He never understood it. Why work when you aren't scheduled?
The pay was shit and the program was understaffed. Good tutors were hard to come by and he had a sinking suspicion that your customer base was a little-too-muscular and a little-too-needy because the website included a portrait of every employee.
"Then why-," He started to stand, "Do you insist on--
"Fuck-!" He was cut off by a furious flash of pain in his hip.
He stumbled- leaning too much on one leg, just to lose his balance in a clumsy baby-deer-fashion.
You rushed to help, and made the distance fast, but were easily too far away to catch him. When you got right by him, it looked like there's nothing going on upstairs. Wide-eyed and breathing manually.
"You okay?"
He rose, slow. His palms weighed heavy on the edge of his mattress.
Head low, mind racing, hip stinging.
Was it something serious? Did he pull something? Was it a cramp? Was it much worse? Was it permanent?
Your hand between his shoulder blades felt like it was healing him from the spine. Like he was on low-battery and you were a really, super crazy nice charger that he didn't have to wiggle to make work.
He never bought those. He was the type to buy another cheap charger, a convenient one, when the last had wires exposed and he couldn't keep bending it or twisting it any longer.
"Rin."
He looked at you. You realized he didn't hear you the first time.
"Are you okay?"
There's a nod, and another- then another, and it's not convincing.
"Y-eah--," He thought for a moment, and wanted to stand up, but didn't try for fear he might suffer the same sensation twice.
"Just blue balls," He lied.
It worked. You settled back into a disappointed, exhausted state, because you're nothing if not willing to believe the worst in him.
"Okay," You sighed. Your hand slips back off of him, "Good thing you can figure that out on your own."
You fixed your hair, paced around for your belongings, and looked properly, perfectly annoyed while doing so. He grinned up at you, how predictable you were, and groaned -excessively- as he sunk back onto the floor.
"Do me a favor?" He called out to you.
You paused in the doorway, brows knitted tight, and cock your head back, hesitant.
"Yeah?"
He was a little bit breathy from the pain, "Send me-ah- some pics tonight."
You laughed out a soft, "Fuck you" and left to go clean up the blubbering mess that had become of Kotarou.
open relationship - yamaguchi x reader x tsukishima
แฒ๐ผ 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.ย
"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."
แฒ๐ผ 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!!!!
open relationship - yamaguchi x reader x tsukishima
แฒ๐ผ 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.ย
"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."
แฒ๐ผ 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!!!!
แฒ๐ผ guyyys if i had a 6.5k !! tsukishima x reader x yamaguchi open relationship FULL angsty smut that was like.. super freaky/overstim/powerplay/'punishing' the brat kind of situation... would literally anybody actually read that shit? or is it better off never seeing the light of day
