AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

“I think fanfiction is literature and literature, for the most part, is fanfiction, and that anyone that dismisses it simply on the grounds that it’s derivative knows fuck-all about literature and needs to get the hell off my lawn. Most of the history of Western literature (and probably much of non-Western literature, but I can’t speak to that) is adapted or appropriated from something else. Homer wrote historyfic and Virgil wrote Homerfic and Dante wrote Virgilfic (where he makes himself a character and writes himself hanging out with Homer and Virgil and they’re like “OMG Dante you’re so cool.” He was the original Gary Stu). Milton wrote Bible fanfic, and everyone and their mom spent the Middle Ages writing King Arthur fanfic. In the sixteenth century you and another dude could translate the same Petrarchan sonnet and somehow have it count as two separate poems, and no one gave a fuck. Shakespeare doesn’t have a single original plot—although much of it would be more rightly termed RPF—and then John Fletcher and Mary Cowden Clarke and Gloria Naylor and Jane Smiley and Stephen Sondheim wrote Shakespeare fanfic. Guys like Pope and Dryden took old narratives and rewrote them to make fun of people they didn’t like, because the eighteenth century was basically high school. And Spenser! Don’t even get me started on Spenser. Here’s what fanfic authors/fans need to remember when anyone gives them shit: the idea that originality is somehow a good thing, an innately preferable thing, is a completely modern notion. Until about three hundred years ago, a good writer, by and large, was someone who could take a tried-and-true story and make it even more awesome. (If you want to sound fancy, the technical term is imitatio.) People were like, why would I wanna read something about some dude I’ve never heard of? There’s a new Sir Gawain story out, man! (As to when and how that changed, I tend to blame Daniel Defoe, or the Modernists, or reality television, depending on my mood.) I also find fanfic fascinating because it takes all the barriers that keep people from professional authorship—barriers that have weakened over the centuries but are nevertheless still very real—and blows right past them. Producing literature, much less circulating it, was something that was well nigh impossible for the vast majority of people for most of human history. First you had to live in a culture where people thought it was acceptable for you to even want to be literate in the first place. And then you had to find someone who could teach you how to read and write (the two didn’t necessarily go together). And you needed sufficient leisure time to learn. And be able to afford books, or at least be friends with someone rich enough to own books who would lend them to you. Good writers are usually well-read and professional writing is a full-time job, so you needed a lot of books, and a lot of leisure time both for reading and writing. And then you had to be in a high enough social position that someone would take you seriously and want to read your work—to have access to circulation/publication in addition to education and leisure time. A very tiny percentage of the population fit those parameters (in England, which is the only place I can speak of with some authority, that meant from 500-1000 A.D.: monks; 1000-1500: aristocratic men and the very occasional aristocratic woman; 1500-1800: aristocratic men, some middle-class men, a few aristocratic women; 1800-on, some middle-class women as well). What’s amazing is how many people who didn’t fit those parameters kept writing in spite of the constant message they got from society that no one cared about what they had to say, writing letters and diaries and stories and poems that often weren’t discovered until hundreds of years later. Humans have an urge to express themselves, to tell stories, and fanfic lets them. If you’ve got access to a computer and an hour or two to while away of an evening, you can create something that people will see and respond to instantly, with a built-in community of people who care about what you have to say. I do write the occasional fic; I wish I had the time and mental energy to write more. I’ll admit I don’t read a lot of fic these days because most of it is not—and I know how snobbish this sounds—particularly well-written. That doesn’t mean it’s “not good”—there are a lot of reasons people read fic and not all of them have to do with wanting to read finely crafted prose. That’s why fic is awesome—it creates a place for all kinds of storytelling. But for me personally, now that my job entails reading about 1500 pages of undergraduate writing per year, when I have time to read for enjoyment I want it to be by someone who really knows what they’re doing. There’s tons of high-quality fic, of course, but I no longer have the time and patience to go searching for it that I had ten years ago. But whether I’m reading it or not, I love that fanfiction exists. Because without people doing what fanfiction writers do, literature wouldn’t exist. (And then I’d be out of a job and, frankly, I don’t know how to do anything else.)”

— “As a professor, may I ask you what you think about fanfiction?” (via meiringens)

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI

GENDER : Male

AGE : 16

BIRTHDAY : 10 November

HEIGHT : 180.0cm

WEIGHT : 63.0kg

POSITION : Middle Blocker Pinch Server

PERSONALITY

Yamaguchi adalah orang yang cukup pemalu yang bergantung pada orang lain. Meskipun pada umumnya dia adalah orang yang baik, dia cenderung tertawa bersama atau bergabung dengan Tsukishima setiap kali dia mengejek orang lain, terutama Kageyama dan Hinata. Ini juga membuktikan bahwa dia adalah teman setia yang sangat peduli dengan teman-temannya, terus-menerus meneriakkan semangat dari pinggir lapangan dan membela Tsukishima.

Ketika dia masih muda, dia diintimidasi karena bintik-bintiknya yang membuatnya sangat tidak aman. Dia terus-menerus meragukan kemampuannya dan merasa sulit untuk berkonsentrasi dengan banyak orang. Ia juga mudah gugup, karena ia cenderung terkejut setiap kali wasit meniup peluit untuk servisnya.

Dia pekerja keras, seperti yang ditunjukkan ketika dia mencari latihan ekstra sendiri dan bagaimana dia terus berlatih di luar tim, setelah melihat betapa lemahnya dia dibandingkan dengan rekan satu timnya yang lain.

Setelah kekalahan fatal dalam pertandingan melawan Aoba Johsai High, dia mendapatkan banyak kepercayaan diri berkat rekan satu timnya dan Makoto Shimada, yang telah membantunya berlatih servis jump float. Selama kamp pelatihan musim panas, dia bahkan melawan Kei Tsukishima, membuatnya terkejut dengan tindakan Yamaguchi dan bahkan memanggilnya "keren" untuk pertama kalinya. Tsukishima mulai bekerja lebih keras, dan hubungan mereka kembali normal setelah kejadian itu.

𝕚 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕠𝕣𝕪

ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ~ 10k ᴡᴏʀᴅs (exactly) ✧ nsfw ✧ minors dni!! ✧

slight voyuerism, overstim, threesome, super sweet aftercare uwu

"I have a question for you.”

Before you've even turned over to face him, before you can even see the expression on his face, the one that looks like he's trying so hard to hide the mischief and failing miserably, you know that this question will not be a simple feat. "Kinda ominous that you started out with that and not just asking me the question," you say, flipping over on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow, "but I'll bite. What's up?"

“We’re close enough for me to ask you this question, I think,” he says, matching your position, jaw resting in the palm of his hand as his elbow sinks into the pillow beneath him. 

“Considering you were literally inside of me about 15 minutes ago, it worries me that you only think we’re close enough,” you retort.

"If you would be so willing," he starts, the facade already slipping and the real intent shining through as he ignores your comment. 

You cut him off, squinting at him and trying to pinpoint what emotion exactly is floating to the surface. "Seems less so now, but go on..."

"I need your help with something," he states plainly, innocently, despite the fact that you know whatever else comes out of his mouth won't be.

"You sure are dancing around this question, Kuroo," you reply.

"I have this theory, right," he pauses, giving you just enough time for your brain to start to wander, but not enough time to flesh out the details, "centered around limits and, well, someone exactly like you." The smirk on his face is in full view now, no remorse and no concealing the way that the corner of his lip pulls upward towards his narrowed eyes or the way they scan you, slowly, but not critically. 

“What kind of limits?” you ask, skeptical now and just as equally intrigued.

"Ones that involve you being completely naked and having a lot of trust in me and Tsukishima," he explains, as plainly stated as he possibly could for the words that he just spoke.

There are a million things that want to come out of your mouth, but the only thing that actually does is, "I'm sorry, what?" The shock doesn’t come from the thought of you being naked in front of him. You’ve done it plenty of times before and felt completely comfortable doing so. Honestly, you always have. It’s one of the perks of the fluidity of your relationship, the casualness of it all, more than friends, definitely not partners, some weird blend of best friends and fuck buddies. 

It isn’t about the trust either; you trust both of them completely. It’s the combination of the two. The only time that you hang out with Tsukishima is around Kuroo or in big group settings. There are a handful of names that could’ve come out of Kuroo’s mouth that would have made more sense than Tsukishima, someone that you’ve barely had solo interactions with, let alone shown any sort of romantic or sexual interest, no matter how attractive you thought he was or how much sexual interest was actually there. 

He doesn't respond, just gives you time to soak in what he's said, so you continue, "What do you mean by 'someone exactly like me', like it has to be me or…”

This time he answers straight away, looking directly into your eyes, giving you something to focus on as your head spins around the proposal. "It has to be you, but there's no pressure, is what I mean."

The vague praise makes a heat rise into your cheeks. Has to be you. You push past it, worrying that if you linger for too long, Kuroo will definitely start to notice. "But what kind of limits? You didn't really answer my que-."

“The more you know, the more prepared you'll feel and the less accurate and genuine your reactions will be," he explains, pausing to let you get the full effect of every single one of his words. "But you can trust me and Tsukki," he continues, "We'll take care of you."

You’re silent, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. And then it clicks. "Are you asking me if I'll have a threesome with you and Tsukishima? Is that what you're asking?" you blatantly pose, trying to figure out if this is some weird, convoluted way of approaching a difficult situation.

For the first time tonight, and maybe ever, you've shocked Kuroo, his demeanor faltering until he clears his throat. "Kinda? I guess," he starts, not really looking at you, but thinking, mulling over the question in his head before shaking it and back-pedaling, "I really want to test this theory that I have and Tsukishima agreed to be my assistant and," he turns the palm that’s not supporting his head upward and takes a deep breath, "will you help me?"

"Like, by take care of me, you mean...," you trail off, knowing that he’ll fill in the blanks without you having to reach for it. 

He moves closer to you, smirking at your curiosity. "I mean exactly what you're thinking." He pauses, wondering if he should take it as far as the thoughts in his head, and then he does, “just like I did tonight.”

You rush to respond, to distract yourself from the feeling that’s rising into your core, the one that’s making your heart rate quicken and palms begin to sweat. “Yes, Kuroo, I will have a threesome with you and Tsukishima. All you had to do was ask,” you tease, your voice just as strong as you need it to be.

Kuroo lets out a laugh, short and light, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist gently, extending his fingers against your palm and stroking the soft skin. His entire aura changes in an instant, the cockiness and complex fading away, leaving behind a look of sincerity and concern. “Seriously, though, if you don’t feel comf-.”

Your response is instant, almost instinctual. "I trust you," you say because it's true. 

His smile reappears, more confident now as he presses a quick kiss into the side of your hand, his eyes boring into yours as he does. “Good.”

//

The way that you were envisioning it, you were so absolutely sure that the science aspect of it would be pushed to the side. You knew that Kuroo was a science nerd at heart, sure, but there was no way that that would take priority over the fact that no matter how you sliced it, you were about to have a threesome with two very attractive men. 

Walking into Kuroo's house feels exactly like every other time you've walked into Kuroo's house, nothing ominous or altered about it. You kick off your shoes in the exact same way, you call out Kuroo's name in the exact same way, you throw your things on the side table right next to the door in the exact same way, and yet, Kuroo doesn't greet you in the exact same way. 

Kuroo doesn't greet you at all. 

It's Tsukishima that you see first, and who sees you first, and it's only then that you realize how different tonight has the potential of being. 

Still, you raise your hand in a nonchalant greeting, murmuring some sort of pleasantry that doesn't get returned to you. He only offers a small, "Hey." You can't get a good read on him, on whatever he's feeling, and it's so much different than Kuroo. 

With Kuroo, you could read every emotion that he wore, even if it was only there for half a second. You're not sure if that's the result of who Kuroo is, how long you've known him, or how well you know him. Either way, it was a luxury that you didn't have with Tsukishima, his eyes looking you up and down, but not saying another word or giving way to whatever he was thinking. 

You ignore his lack of reciprocation and ask him directly, "Do you know where Kuroo's at?"

"Sorry!" Kuroo calls from the other room, not letting Tsukishima answer, though you're not certain he would've. "I was finishing setting up. You're early."

"Yeah! Well, I made the first train so I didn't have to wait for the late one," you explain, the small talk feeling so foreign. "I hope that's okay," the courtesy also feeling very foreign. The air feels equally as foreign and you almost feel like you shouldn't be there.

And then Kuroo flashes a smile at you. He takes two quick, lengthy strides towards you, pushing your hair out of your face and leaning in close enough so that only you can hear him say, "Are you nervous?"

The unfamiliarity that was brought along by the possibility of rigidity fades away as soon as you feel Kuroo next to you, instantly feeling at ease again. You pull back from him, only a few inches to play into the question. “Why would I be nervous?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. “Should I be nervous?” 

"You don't have any reason to be nervous, no," Kuroo denies. He takes you by the hand and pulls you along with him. "Thanks again for agreeing to help out. Do you want to get started?"

The formality almost makes you laugh, and you're grateful for it. There is plenty about this situation that could have made you spiral, but just being around Kuroo is making you feel so much more at ease. "Absolutely," you confirm. 

You follow him down the hall, your hand still in his despite the fact that you're pretty sure that you know his house layout better than your own. In fact, you're sure that if you were blindfolded, you could find your way to Kuroo's bedroom. The bedroom that you just passed. 

You're about to open your mouth, to poke fun at him for missing his own bedroom or to wonder aloud why you were walking so far, but then he stops abruptly in front of a door. 

"Your office?" you ask.

He nods, looking down at you and explaining, "Repurposed for testing."

His response surprises you, given the fact that up until this point you were still convinced that this was just a strangely-veiled setup for a normal threesome. The surprise doesn't have the chance to settle before more sets in.

He pushes open the door to his office, but it's not the same as it was the few times you've been in here before. The furniture is all pushed against the walls, making way for a long, steel table in the center of a perfectly white sheet on the floor. Beside it stood a matching, but significantly smaller, table holding a variety of neatly placed, and equally distanced toys. Your gaze doesn't remain on the table long, far more intrigued by the hinged lamp that was positioned next to it, pointed directly at the table, but turned off. 

The scene in front of you is like nothing you expected. You outstretch your arm, fingers spanning until they make contact with the table. It's so much colder than you think it's going to be, the chill sending shivers up your arms and throughout your body.

Kuroo can see the overwhelm in your movements and reactions, so he reaches out his hand and places it on top of yours, combatting the feeling of cold that's transferring to your body so easily. "Is this okay?" he asks. 

He's not talking about the hand placement, you know that. He's talking about the place that you're in, the company that's downstairs, what he's going to ask of you, to do to you, what the future holds. He curls his fingers around your own and withdrawals them from the table, fast enough for you to forget what the metal feels like against your skin, but not too fast as to startle you. 

You remember back to the conversation that you had with him, how much he cared about you feeling comfortable and not pressured. You remember back to how Kuroo's been the entire time you've known him. And then he solidifies it. 

"I meant what I said," he mutters into your shoulder, "We'll take care of you. You can trust us. I promise."

He places his hands on your hips, kissing up your shoulder gently and pulling you into him, your entire body weight resting on him. "Okay," you reply, letting yourself relax. "Yeah. I trust you." 

You can feel the kisses against your skin turn to smiles before he turns you around to face him, the small of your back resting against the edge of the table. "Can I let Tsukishima undress you?" he asks, your body turning rigid at the unfamiliarity of the concept. "Please." 

You don't reply, not fast enough at least, because Kuroo runs his hand up your body and places it under your chin, pinching it gently between his fingers. "What happened to trusting us, to letting us take care of you?" he asks, "Give up control, okay?"

“Okay,” you respond, maybe too quickly as you exhale the breath out of your lungs. 

“Okay, what?” Kuroo asks, lowering himself so that he can look into your eyes more easily. 

“Okay, I’ll give up control,” you explain. You wait for Kuroo’s response, but it doesn’t come. He stands there, eyebrows raised ever so slightly as he waits for you to continue. “Okay, I’ll let Tsukishima undress me.” Your cheeks feel warm as the words come out of your mouth. 

Kuroo doesn’t even acknowledge you, just turns his head towards the entrance, immediately calling out of the room for Tsukishima who appears in the doorway in an instant. “We’re ready.” Tsukishima replaces Kuroo in front of you so seamlessly as Kuroo moves to the smaller table, pushing things around ever so slightly.

“Turn around,” he says, quietly. The words aren’t nearly as loud and commanding as Kuroo’s, but you still want to follow every direction he says. His slender fingers grab the hem of your shirt, pulling upwards as his fingers scrape against your stomach, his hips pressed firmly against the back of you.  

Despite how much of your skin that he’s touching and the goosebumps that it’s leaving behind, it all feels so precise, so scientific. You lift your arms, allowing Tsukishima to pull it over your head. You know that if it was Kuroo, your shirt would have been in a heap on the floor 15 seconds ago, but Tsukishima is taking his time, to tease you or not to make any mistakes, you’re not exactly sure. He straightens out your shirt, folding it in half, tucking the sleeves, and then folding it in half again, before setting it down gently onto the corner of the smaller table. 

His fingers are moving with so much care, each tiny movement planned and meticulous, and it’s affecting you far more than it should be. He snakes his arms around your waist, unbuttoning your pants, pulling down the zipper, navigating through touch alone. The contact brings you a comfort you didn’t expect, relaxing into Tsukishima’s arms and resting yourself against his chest. You feel him tense, lose his poise, if only for a beat. He slides your pants off, hooking his thumbs into your underwear and dragging them down in the same motion. 

His hands don’t linger longer than they need to, but God, do you want them to, wish they would hover over every inch of you just light enough so that you could feel their presence. He doesn’t even need to touch you. You just want him to be there. “On the table,” he directs, breaking you out of your escalating thoughts. He folds your pants with the same amount of care, in half, matching the hems, and then in half two more times, setting them on top of your shirt. 

You listen without acknowledging, climbing onto the table. “On your back,” Tsukishima specifies. You nod this time, hands bracing the table as you lower yourself slowly until your back is flat against it.

You’re not sure what shocks you more, how cold the metal is or how hard it is. There’s no forgiveness in the solid sheet you’re lying on top of. You arch ever so slightly in reaction to the sudden change. Tsukishima’s hand lies gently on your stomach, pushing, not harshly, to counter your movement, until you’re flat on the table again, embracing the uncomfortability of the material.

It’s Kuroo, now, that towers over top of you, looking down at you with a look so void of lust and filled with authority and inquiry. You feel so exposed. You’ve been naked in front of Kuroo so many times before, but this feels like an entirely new experience. “I’ll explain,” Kuroo says, distracting you, if only for a moment, from how on display you feel.

“It all started with an observation,” he kneels down right next to your face. You turn your head to face him. His eyes are still, concentrating on yours as he speaks. “Sex with you is incredible.” And now you know why he keeps his eyes trained on yours, the effect showing so strong within them. 

“So I was thinking, why is that? There are some obvious reasons,” he says, smiling as he pulls a reaction out of you once again, “but more than anything else, I think it’s because of how determined you are to hold off on your first orgasm.”

You blush at this, at the fact that he notices it in the first place and the fact that he’s saying it aloud with such pride. It doesn’t make complete sense, though, in your brain, why that would equate to the sex being incredible. He answers your unspoken question. 

He stands up, no longer worrying about how affected you are by what he says. “You focus so hard, so intently, on not coming for as long as you can so that your first orgasm is unsurmountable. Am I wrong? That would be really awkward if I was wrong.”

You shake your head, because, of course, he’s not wrong. You’ve always loved holding it, thought it made the pay off so much sweeter, and it definitely did. He knew it too. 

“So, then, I had a theory,” he says, walking to the foot of the table, placing both of his hands on each of your ankles, pulling them apart. “that you would stay so strong in the beginning, but then, as time goes on, you would crumble away so quickly until you had absolutely no resolve left.”

Your jaw falls open so subtly, but Kuroo notices, doesn’t try to hide his smirk as he does. “All you have to do,” he starts, “is wait to come for as long as you possibly can.” He runs his hands up your calves, massaging into them, and pushing up until he gets to the insides of your thighs. “Can you do that for me?” 

You nod, slowly at first, because you’re not even sure that the movements are conscious, but then you feel his thumb digging into your thigh, rubbing pressured circles into the muscle, and a verbal confirmation following a breathy whimper leaves your mouth. 

“Great. Tsukishima, tell her the spiel,” Kuroo says, lifting his grip from off of your thighs so suddenly that another whimper breaks from your lips. Kuroo doesn’t even acknowledge it as he starts picking things up from the table beside you. 

“We’re working on a colored system. If at any time you’re feeling like something is moving into a place where it’s too much to handle, say yellow. We’ll stop, make sure you’re okay, slow down, adjust. If at any time, it’s too much and you need to stop for good, say red. We’ll stop, help you however you need to feel okay again,” Tsukishima explains, his hand resting on your arm the entire time, the touch helping you focus on every word. 

“If you can’t speak, three firm taps, squeezes, contact of any kind, whatever you can manage. Just three, repetitive motions, okay?” he asks. 

“Okay. Yellow, red, three touches. I got it,” you repeat, nodding along, and then tacking on a, “Thank you, Tsukishima.”

You’re so focused on Tsukishima’s words and the grasp that he has on your arm that you only notice Kuroo lowering himself next to you when he’s already there. He’s rubbing his thumb against the pads of his two fingers, pulling them apart meticulously as a string of liquid connects them together. 

He reaches his hand down, careful not to get the liquid on anything other than where he’s aiming. His fingers hover between your legs, not making any contact yet, just lingering. He speaks at the exact moment that he dips his fingers between your lips, the coolness of the lube rivaling the metal on your back when you first came into contact with it, “I’m going to let Tsukishima fuck you first, okay?”

Air draws into your lungs quickly, a small, sharp inhale both from the words and the feeling. “Okay,” you reply.

Kuroo rubs the lube between your lips. He lets his fingertips graze over your hole, teasing it, gently prodding, but not inserting them, not yet. “More lube,” he says, pulling his fingers away from your hole, but still between your lips. He rubs your clit with the length of his digits, letting the bundle of nerves slide between the creases of his fingers as you watch them intently. 

Tsukishima uncaps the bottle, letting a generous stream of lube pour onto your pussy, the excess dripping between your legs and onto the table. Kuroo adds another finger, rubbing the pads of them over top of your lips, repetitively moving them up and down until he slips the middle one inside of you.

“I’m going to stretch you out first,” he tells you, as he pushes as deep as he can go, his other fingers resting against your ass. Both Kuroo and Tsukishima are watching you so closely, your body language and your facial expressions and the way you move when Kuroo adds another finger and then another until his three fingers are slowly stretching you. 

He slides his fingers in and out of you, reaching down with his other hand to rub your clit. You hum at the additional contact, feeling your own wetness add to the lubrication between your legs. Kuroo’s fingers feel so good, but they’re not deep enough. “Tsukishima’s going to fuck you now,” Kuroo says, no confirmation at the end of it this time. Still, you nod. 

“Move to the end of the table,” Kuroo says as he removes his fingers from you. You listen immediately, scooching to the edge, legs dangling off of the side as Tsukishima positions himself between them. 

Tsukishima has his fist around his cock, stroking the length steadily, rubbing lube over the top of his head as he moves closer to you. The unfamiliarity of it all is setting in, your breath quickening as Tsukishima places one hand on your knee, spreading your legs open even further. He rubs his head between your lips, letting your wetness spread over the tip before pushing inside of you.

He grabs the undersides of both of your knees, holding your legs up and pushing them into your chest as he gets deeper inside of you. He’s not as thick as Kuroo, but he’s so long. You let your head tilt back into the hard surface, gazing up at the ceiling as you concentrate on each inch being inserted inside of you. 

He’s so deep and he just keeps getting deeper, pushing into you until his hips are directly against your thighs. You can barely catch a good breath, looking up at him, seeing the bliss in his eyes before he starts moving, pulling out slowly and pushing back in even slower. 

You can feel it building up in your stomach as he continues the repetitive motions, but it’s nothing you can’t manage. You look directly up at Tsukishima, staring into his eyes as he thrusts in and out of you. You want to tell him to move faster, but you know that you should pace yourself, know that Tsukishima is probably giving you exactly what you need for how early it is in the night. 

“Tell me, how long do you think you can hold it when you can’t breathe? When you’re concentrating on staying conscious instead of holding your orgasm?” Kuroo questions, positioned directly next to your face, pumping his fist around his cock. “Open.”

It’s like they’ve planned it. The second that Kuroo finishes the word open, Tsukishima starts fucking into you faster, holding you in place by your hips as he thrusts so deep inside of you. He lets you feel his entire length slide in and out of your hole, not sacrificing anything for how fast he’s getting. 

You can barely part your lips before Kuroo’s head is between them. He pushes his hips forward, spreading your lips with his girth and your mouth feels so full so quickly. You weren’t a stranger to Kuroo fucking your throat. You both loved it. But there was something so different about it when you could feel another cock ramming in and out of you. 

He pushes into your mouth slowly, your jaw opening as wide as it needs to compensate for how thick he was. You can feel the underside of his cock slide against your tongue, the head driving into the back of your throat, gently prodding at it before withdrawing. 

It’s harsher this time, the thrust inside of your mouth. You can feel the spit coming from the back of your throat and coating him as he messily fucks your mouth, your lips stretching around him. His head rams against the back wall so rough that you gag violently. You can feel Kuroo stroking the sides of your face, his hands migrating down to your throat as he massages his thumb into your airway. 

He pushes his cock as deep as it can go, your nose against his hip, but he doesn’t pull back this time. He just keeps it there, blocking any air that begs to come through. He reaches down, plugging your nose so that there’s absolutely no chance of you getting any oxygen. You don’t know what to concentrate on as your head feels lighter. 

Tsukishima’s thrusts into you haven’t stopped, have only gotten more ruthless as he watches Kuroo abuse your throat. He’s so deep inside of you that you feel like you can feel him in your stomach, but the longer that Kuroo holds his cock in your mouth, the less you can feel it. Your eyes are shut tightly because you can’t see straight anyways, and your head hurts, and you’re opening and closing your fists because you’re starting to not be able to feel them. 

“Switch with me, Tsukishima,” Kuroo says, pulling out of your mouth right before you would have pushed him off. 

He moves so quickly, Kuroo, to get between your legs, and when he’s positioned there, he doesn’t hesitate for a second. He slides inside of you, grunting at how tight you are around him. He’s not as deep as Tsukishima was, but you can feel how much he’s stretching you already. “Fuck, Kuroo, I’m so fucking full, fuck,” you groan. 

He fucks your tight hole faster than your throat, harsher than your throat. He’s being relentless, knowing that he’s the one that wants to make you come for the first time. He wants to be the one to feel you tighten, to ride your high with you. 

But not yet. You focus on your Tsukishima’s cock in front of you, capturing his head between your lips and then sliding them down his length, taking him inside of your mouth and then as deep down your throat as you can manage, your fist stroking anything you can’t reach. You concentrate on how he tastes, the noises that escape him. You do everything in your power to ignore what’s going on between your legs, on the mess that Kuroo’s making of you, because if you thought about it, even for a second, you’d be coming all over him. 

You concentrate on how your tongue swirls around the head and how the tip fits so perfectly in the slit. You concentrate on how your body twists so that you can massage his balls with your other hand while still stroking the rest of his cock steadily, building speed as you feel his balls tighten. You let his head glide against the back of your tongue, swallowing around him, letting your throat massage the length. 

It doesn’t take much more of this meticulous care that you’re giving Tsukishima’s cock or the sight of your entire body bouncing from the force of Kuroo’s thrusts for Tsukishima to come down your throat. He grabs hold of your hair, moving your face at the exact speed that he needs as he uses your mouth just like Kuroo did. 

You feel his cock pulse between your lips, your mouth a tight ring around him. It coats your tongue, bitter and warm, and you know that Kuroo is probably so jealous right now. Tsukishima doesn’t stop moving his hips, pushing the cum deeper into your mouth. “Will you swallow for me?” he asks, the first thing he’s asked of you all night. How could you deny that?

You don’t remove his cock from your mouth, you swallow around his length just like you did before. He groans at the feeling of your throat tightening around his sensitive cock, but he doesn’t move. You hollow your cheeks as you pull off of him, sucking any last drop. 

It all catches up with you the second that Tsukishima’s cock leaves your mouth. You barely have time to swallow the cum that’s left in your mouth before you’re struggling to control your orgasm. You were working so hard to ignore it before, but you can’t now, the feeling of him fucking into you, still stretching you apart somehow. 

Kuroo rests his fingertips on your stomach, his thumb flicking your clit exactly how he knows you like it. You can see how insistent he is on pushing you to your limits and as much as you want to curse at him for testing you, you just don’t have the mind to. It feels so good. He’s making you feel so good, a string of curses and his name flowing from your mouth as you try your hardest to channel the pleasure into something else. 

“I’m going to come inside of you,” Kuroo says, slamming inside of you harder now. The sentence makes you swallow harshly. You’re so close, so fucking close from the repetitive motions and how thick Kuroo is and how full you feel. He can see it on your face, loves watching you lose control like he has so many times before. It’s his favorite part. He wants to watch you unravel from him, and only him. “Tsukishima, stop touching her,” he commands, so harshly that you feel the dominance of the demand. Tsukishima removes his hand from your shoulder that was lingering there from before.

“You’re so close,” Kuroo breathes, chest heaving as his grip tightens onto your waist, holding you in place as he pounds into you. “I know you’re so close and you’ve been so fucking good for me, waiting, holding off on coming, but I’m going to break you now.” A whimper falls from your lips. You feel so conflicted. You want to just let go, but you know that you have to try harder than you ever have. 

“Try to hold it for me, baby, but I’m going to break you. I’m going to come so deep inside of you, and I’m going to fucking break you,” he spits, a look of determination now on his face. 

His cock is ramming in and out of you, knocking the breath out of your lungs as soon as it enters, the sound echoing around the room and back at you, definitely not helping the vulgarity of the situation or your determination. Your eyelids close tightly, trying to find some sort of grounds, anything to concentrate on instead of how crude and how good Kuroo looks over top of you. 

“Open your eyes, baby, look at me. Look at me,” he coaxes, his hands moving from your hips to your chest, dragging them down your body leisurely, letting you feel the pressure and contact on every part of you. You listen to him, opening your eyes just in time to see him licking his lips. His gaze isn’t on yours, but rather, on you, scanning and staring, and somehow that’s worse. 

“I’m going to come inside you,” he repeats, “so fucking deep. I’m so close.”

“I-,” you start, interrupted by the abrupt slam of his hips against you, “I can’t hold it, Kuroo,” you admit, shaking your head, eyes watering, core tightening. 

“No?” he asks, and you know that he’s patronizing you, and you just can’t bring yourself to care. You shake your head harder, the tears dripping down your cheeks. 

“Can’t,” you mutter. “Feels too good.”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. He comes first, draining inside of you so deep that you’re convinced it’ll never come out. You can feel his cock twitching with every stream, can feel him still as he takes in his own orgasm, but then he starts to move again. He’s no longer focused on his own pleasure, on taking the time to savor the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you, painting your insides. 

He pulls out of you almost completely and fucks back into you even harsher than before. You were completely ready to come on his cock solely from the depth and the pulsing and how full you were feeling, but he’s regaining the momentum that he lost for only a moment. In fact, it’s faster now, more brutal, intent on doing exactly as he said, breaking you, not just making you orgasm, but absolutely destroying you. 

His name is the only thing on your mind, the only word that you know at this point, and you can’t stop saying it, mushed together in a string of incoherence, getting louder and louder until you’re screaming. 

The orgasm takes you harder than it ever has. Your core cramps, your chest rising off of the table, folding into your knees, your forehead colliding with Kuroo’s chest, resting there for only a moment before you violently fall back into the table. Tsukishima’s there to catch you, his hand placed gently under your head as you crash into it. In any other scenario, you’d feel bad, but you’re quite positive that you couldn’t feel any ounce of bad right now, no matter what happened.

Your body is overcome by pleasure, spreading out your entire being, electrifying everything inside of you and out. Your skin feels like it’s on fire and your hands are closed into fists so tight that you can feel the marks your nails are leaving. Your legs are shaking so violently that even Kuroo’s strong hold can’t stop them. And at some point, your screams for Kuroo turn into high-pitched nonsense and then into silent sobbing. 

You know that you had to have been breathing, it lasted far too long for you to go without air, but when you regain control, when your body starts to calm down, and the feelings all subside, you can’t see straight, can’t breathe right. Your mouth is open, gasping for air and expelling it just as quickly and severely. You don’t know what you look like right now and you’re not sure you want to know. 

You close your eyes, your entire body sensitive to even the tiniest breeze, and even more sensitive to the fingers in your hair, stroking and petting as you regain composure, and the dull nails scraping against the insides of your thighs, but not far enough to make you convulse again. 

You move to sit up. Your core is on fire, but you need to feel some sort of control. You don’t get very far. Kuroo’s hand immediately braces your shoulder, “I’m not done.”

Your mind still feels foggy. You’re barely able to understand exactly what he means. He moves you back to the center of the table, gently, slowly, but the touch still makes your skin feel hot. “That was only the first part, remember?” he asks, spreading your legs apart so slightly, your thighs still touching. “The rest of the theory was about you crumbling away so quickly until you had absolutely no resolve left. That’s the more fun part.”

Even with the pleasure still taking over your brain, you understand. You hear each word and only now do you feel the implications of them for real. Your body already feels exhausted, spent, so tired, and he wants to put you through even more. 

He walks over the table, using tissues to clean himself up before putting his pants back on, letting you recover for a little bit longer. He grasps one of the toys in his hand, the wand, and you’re already feeling your resolve slip away. 

He spreads your lips apart. “Can I trust you not to move or should I strap it in place?” he asks before pushing the head directly into your clit, a gasp escaping you as your back rises off of the table. It’s not on, but the pressure of something against your sensitive clit makes you flinch. 

“Understood,” he replies to your reaction. “Tsukishima, the belt,” he motions his head towards the table behind him. Tsukishima moves quickly, grabbing the leather strap from the table and snaking it under your thighs. Kuroo moves the wand carefully, lying it in between your closed thighs, your lips wrapped around the head which is pushed into your clit, covering the entirety of it. “Tighten it,” Kuroo commands. 

You’ve never seen Tsukishima listen so well without a fight to anyone, especially Kuroo, but there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place, an emotion floating between eagerness and inquisition. Your stare is trained on his fingers as they position the belt over the top of the handle and tighten the strap so that neither your thighs nor the wand can move at all. 

“Are you ready to test my theory?” Kuroo asks, standing next to your head, stroking your hair gently as he waits for your reply, a low, confident, hum. “Great. Turn it on, Tsukishima, slow.”

The wand presses into your clit harder as Tsukishima pushes the dial forward. You feel the click first, the signifier that it’s on, and then you feel the vibration. It’s low and weak, but enough to make you jolt at the feeling. If it wasn’t strapped to your thighs, the wand would already be out of place. 

“How does that feel? Can you hold it?” Kuroo asks, his hands moving from your hair, grasping onto your shoulders. You hum again, but it’s not in affirmation or denial this time. It’s just a sound, a reply without intent, because honestly, you’re not sure. The vibration is weak against your clit and yet as the seconds tick by, despite the fact that Tsukishima hasn’t touched it at all, it feels like it’s getting stronger, like it’s affecting you more. 

Kuroo’s hands move, sliding down your neck and over your collarbones as he rubs them over your chest. His thumbs brush over your nipples, purposefully. The pleasure from your chest spreads throughout you, overlapping the pleasure of the vibrations and you feel almost pathetic from how close you already are. 

Kuroo rubs your nipples between his fingers, harshly, rolling them in between the pads repetitively. You arch your back as much as you can, pushing your chest into Kuroo’s grasp, showing him how desperate you’re feeling without saying anything. He listens to your physical beg, uses his whole hand to massage your chest, thumbs still skimming over your hard nipples as his fingers dig into your skin. 

The vibrations don’t get stronger, but the pressure does. Tsukishima pushes the head of the wand into your clit harder and it’s getting almost impossible to stay still or to stay quiet. “Kuroo, I- I’m close,” you mumble through half-closed lips. 

“Already? That’s great,” he says, stopping just short of a laugh. He continues, “I’m not going to turn it up. I’m just going to let you come from the lowest setting.” 

The orgasm reaches you so much softer this time. The build-up is so slow, so gradual, and so are the effects that it has on you. You can feel yourself flood. You roll your hips into the vibrations as much as you can. It’s not breath-taking or life-changing like the one you had witnessed just minutes ago, but your body feels warm. 

It only takes you a few beats to catch your breath again, but the wand is still on, moving against your sensitive clit, and Tsukishima reaches down and rolls the dial. The vibrations intensify and the embarrassment of how little it took you to come last time is nothing in comparison to now. 

It takes so little for your chest to rise and fall dramatically, the airflow matching the quickening of your pulse and the closeness of another orgasm. “More,” Kuroo says, but it’s not to you. He’s looking directly at Tsukishima. He watches how far he pushes the dial, how much stronger the vibrations come. “Good.”

“I’m- I’m-,” you stutter, not able to say anything else as your eyes close quickly. The orgasm hitting you again, faster and more abrupt this time. 

“Fuck,” you whine. You don’t have to tell him. He knows. He can see the way he’s wrecking you with each continuous orgasm. He strokes your jaw, pushes the hair out of your face, wipes the sweat off of your forehead. 

“I know, baby, I know. It’s okay,” he coos. 

It pushes you over the edge, the extra touch and his words. It’s more intense this time, the feeling that washes over you. It’s not as extreme as your first one, but it’s getting there. You lift your knees off of the table, the wand pressing harder between your legs as you rock against it. 

“Look at you,” Kuroo gushes, watching in awe, “Even strapped together, you’re still squirming to make yourself come.” He shakes his head, standing up straight. “Well then, do it. Make yourself come again,” he orders. 

You don’t move at first, not exactly sure if he’s serious or just taunting you, but then you see the look of expectancy in his eyes. You slowly bring your knees into your chest again, circling your hips so that the head moves against your clit in a repetitive path. It doesn’t take long for that, coupled with the continuous, almost abusive vibrations to bring you there. 

“That’s it. Make yourself come. Move your hips just like that,” he mutters, staring down at your every move. He acts like it’s completely up to you, as if the wand between your legs wasn’t put there by his hands, as if the way you’re moving and grinding isn’t specifically for his eyes, because of his words. “Come for me, again.”

And you listen, not intentionally, just because your body wants to do whatever he wants it to do. You hug your legs, arch your back, driving the wand as harshly against your clit as it can be. You rest your forehead against your knees, moaning into the small space you’ve created, muffled by your own skin and limbs. 

As soon as it’s finished, you slowly relax, letting your legs uncurl, the backs of them lying flat against the table once again. You brace yourself on your elbows first before lowering your back as well until you’ve returned to your original position. The vibrations aren’t stopping. You don’t even have time to catch your breath. 

Kuroo moves to your side, standing directly across from Tsukishima, and places both of his hands on your legs, holding them down, thighs pushed roughly against the table so that you can’t move at all. You can’t spread your legs or lift them. Any amount of small control you had seconds ago is now completely gone. The only thing you can do is lie there and submit. 

It’s Kuroo, this time, that pushes the dial, stretching his finger while keeping his hold on you in place. He lets his finger rest against the wand, feeling the muted vibrations that are coming from the handle. For some reason, knowing that Kuroo’s the one in control again, that he’s the one towering over you and watching you convulse under his touch, brings you closer than the vibrations do. 

“Kuroo,” you whimper, his name falling off of your tongue so easily considering that it’s the only thing on your mind. You don’t know whether to beg for more or to concede, welcoming defeat. “Kuroo,” you repeat, begging, but still not sure for what.

“What, baby? Do you want it higher?” he asks, finger moving to the dial again, but not pushing it until he sees your reaction. 

You’re nodding, on instinct, with pure need, or just to make him proud, you’re not sure. He smiles at you, “Good girl.” And now you’re sure. 

He pushes the dial until the vibrations are so strong that it almost hurts, and yet, the dial doesn’t click again or hit a barrier. Your stomach is in knots just from the contact of the head against you. You regret asking him to turn it up. It barely feels good anymore, the constant, intense buzzing between your legs, but the stimulation is still pushing you towards an orgasm that you’re not sure you can handle anymore. 

When you come, the good is good. It might have even felt better than the first time. Though, it doesn’t matter much, because it lasts for mere seconds. Settling in behind it is just the most intense feeling you’ve ever experienced. It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but it definitely didn’t feel good. It almost felt like your entire body was cramping. You wanted to convulse with the motions, feel each wave as it barrelled through you, but you couldn’t move, held down by strong hands. And when it finally fled, the only thing you could feel was how sensitive you were. 

But the vibration didn’t stop. No one moved to turn it off, not even with your whining and whimpering, so you opened your mouth, letting your pleas fall out. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I’m so sensitive, Kuroo. I can’t,” you ramble, shaking your head against the table. 

“You can, you can. You know the system, right? You know what you have to say for me to stop, right?” Kuroo asks.

You nod, eyes shut tightly. You didn’t need him to stop. You could handle it, but the words still pour from you. “I know. I know, but I can’t, I can’t.”

“Tell me. Tell me you know what you have to say, okay?” he tries again. You can’t see the look in his eyes or the concern on his face, barely pick up on the tone of his voice and how serious it sounds. He knows that this is the first time you’ve done something like this and wants to make sure you’re safe.

“Yes, fuck, I know what I have to say, yes. I know. I don’t need you to stop,” you say and then correct yourself, “I don’t want you to stop. I just, I’m so sensitive. I can feel everything so much and I’m so sensitive, Kuroo,” you babble. 

“I know, I know. You’re doing so good,” Kuroo says to you, and then he talks over top of you, directed at Tsukishima, “Turn it up.” The confirmation gives him what he needs to push you even further. 

You’re so focused on the imminent, unbearable sensation, that you don’t even see Kuroo turn on the light. You feel it before anything else, the warmth that the light creates and how quickly it becomes excruciating. Sweat drips down your forehead, glides past your temples, forms on your stomach, and under your thighs, letting you slide against the table. It just makes everything so much more intense. 

And then you feel the click of the dial, the signifier that it’s up as high as it goes, and you’re cursing so many things that have played a hand in this. You’re cursing the company that made the wand and Kuroo for being so sadistic and Tsukishima for helping him and yourself for agreeing to this. You’re trying to move your mind anywhere other than how hard the wand is vibrating against you. 

You know that you’re talking, you think that you’re talking. Your mouth is open and it feels like words are coming out, but you don’t know what you’re saying and you can’t hear them. Tears are streaming down your face, steadily, not overwhelmingly. Someone’s, you’re not sure whose, and it doesn’t really matter at this point, touches you, moves to stroke your arm. You can hear yourself now as you bark, “Don’t touch me,” regaining enough control of yourself and your voice to add a softer, “please” onto the end. 

You lay there on the table, your body feeling excessively hot in every facet, with a buzzing between your legs that if it was any lower wouldn’t even be affecting you right now because you feel so numb. Everything is heightened. You can feel everything. The light, the air, the warmth, the breath on either side of you, the way that the breath is cool against your skin, the way that the breath is moving, slowly, blowing onto your shoulder and neck and stomach. The contrast of the stimuli makes you feel some sort of balance, some sort of ground. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise. You could feel everything at once, but you couldn’t feel the sensation approaching. You’re positive that you’re screaming because there’s no way you can’t be. Your throat feels sore and the tears haven’t stopped and you reach your arm out, grabbing onto whatever you find first, squeezing into it so hard, your fingernails digging, digging, digging until your hand is shaking so hard that you can’t manage to control it anymore. 

It’s so much. It’s so much. It’s almost too much. The second that you’re off of this short high, you know that the sobbing will come. You can feel the tears and the tightness in your throat. You can see yellow flashing in your head. You’re not at your limit. You’re not hurt, but if they don’t slow down, you’re going to be very quickly. The word is traveling up your throat, graces your tongue, but doesn’t get the chance to leave your lips. 

The vibration stops. 

“You’re done” is the first thing that you hear when you regain awareness. Kuroo repeats it again, “You’re done, baby, you’re done. Can I touch you? Is that okay?”

You nod because, despite the fact that you’re trembling, that every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire, that’s really all you want right now. The flinch still comes when he touches you, rests his hand on your cheek, so he hesitates. If you had more energy, you’d lift your own and put it on top of his. 

“You did so well. You did so well,” he repeats, leaning in closer to you and rubbing his thumb against your cheekbone. “God, you did so good.” You can’t respond, but you hope that he knows how much that means to you. 

He lets you lay there, not moving you or rushing you, but just letting you recuperate as long as you need to. The second that you’re able, you talk, “Tsukishima, can you unstrap my thighs?” It’s more of a mumble than a strong sentence, but he gets the point, working just as slow and methodical as before, perhaps more so now. You can barely feel him when he brushes against your skin, numb now from the consistent vibrations. 

Without the constraint on your thighs and the object between your legs, you automatically feel like you can breathe easier now. “And the light,” you mumble. It’s not a question, but it doesn’t need to be. The light is turned off in a second, the heat fading quickly without the intensive brightness. You hum, now, content with the environment you’re in and the company you’re with. 

“I know you probably want to fall asleep right here, but we should get you into bed,” Kuroo mentions, his hand still in the same place against your skin. 

“Kuroo, I don’t think I could move right now if I tried. My legs are completely numb,” you say, “Literally if the house caught on fire, I would die here. There’s no way I could even stand right now.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. “You most certainly would not. I would save you.”

Your eyes are closed softly, but you still roll them, and you hope he notices. “My hero.”

“Come on, I’ll carry you. You can’t recover correctly from all of that if you’re in this room on this table, okay?” he asks.

There aren’t many things you would deny Kuroo of right now, with his voice as sweet as it is and his touch as soft as it is, and carrying you into his room to be more comfortable is definitely not one of them. Your eyelids flutter open and you’re finally able to see Kuroo looking down at you and Tsukishima watching the two of you. 

“Okay,” you agree. 

“Can you put your arms around my neck?” he asks, leaning down and snaking his arms under your knees and your back. 

“Fire, Kuroo, remember, fire,” you reiterate, “No, I could not crawl myself out of this building.”

“You won’t have to bear any weight. It’s just for support.”

You oblige, using all of your energy to lift your arms and lock them around his neck. They hang lazily and you know that if he so much as moves you in the wrong way, they will fall heavily by your sides. His steps are careful, making sure that they’re not too fast or too harsh and you’re so grateful for it. 

Tsukishima pushes open the door to his room and Kuroo carefully steps inside, careful not to bump you into the doorway. He lays you down in the center of his bed so softly that you can barely differentiate being in the air and surrounded by mattress. “There’s water on the bedside table that you definitely need to drink,” Kuroo mentions. “And do you want the TV on or the fan?”

“No, I’m okay. This is nice, I think. I do want a t-shirt, though,” you say, not wanting to be this exposed anymore. 

“Yours or mine?” he asks, already halfway to his dresser. 

“Yours,” you call out, “something really baggy.”

He grabs a shirt from his drawer, walking back over, and handing it to you. You accept it graciously, putting it on over your head slowly, the clean fabric against your skin one of the only sensations that feel acceptable at the moment. “Thank you.”

“Well, you should get some rest, okay?” he says, leaning over and kissing your forehead. “Hydrate first, though. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything at all.”

You nod, finally relaxing. The bed is so comfortable compared to the harshness of the metal that you were lying on before. It melds against your body so perfectly, conforms to every curve, but you can’t even think about falling asleep. Your mind is still racing, wandering, active, despite the exhaustion you’re feeling so heavily. 

“Wait,” you say with the last ounce of strength you have. Both of them stop in place, Tsukishima already halfway out the door. They’re looking at you expectantly, waiting for whatever you have to say or request, but you can’t get it out. It feels weird, almost, that after everything that just happened you would feel uncomfortable saying anything at all to them. 

“Do you need something?” Kuroo asks, already moving back towards you. 

“I-,” you start, face feeling hot at such a silly request, “I don’t really want to be alone right now.” You’re not sure if you’re imagining it or if Kuroo really does ease when you say it. 

“You want us to lay with you?” Kuroo asks, closing the gap, already by your side again. 

“I don’t have to if you guys want to be alone,” Tsukishima says, his voice so small it almost goes unnoticed. 

You shake your head, “I’d like if you’d stay.”

You’re positive that Tsukishima doesn’t mean to show the look of shock on his face, but he does. You feel the bed sink on one side as Tsukishima walks back into the room and by your side. You flip over towards Kuroo who holds the glass of water out in front of him. “Water first,” he says. You listen, taking it in your hands as well as you can for how spent your muscles still are. The bed behind you shifts, a hesitant hand rubbing the small of your back. 

It takes a few moments for you all to get comfortable, to get into positions that fit, to meld together as perfectly as you do, but when you do, you never want to move again. Tsukishima’s pressed up against your back, his hand gently on your hip. Your head is pressed against Kuroo’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and timing your breathing with it. 

The room is quiet and your mind is still racing, but with the company in the room, you feel so content. “Thanks for taking care of me,” you say to both of them. 

“I said we would, didn’t I?” Kuroo responds, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. 

“I mean, that’s not exactly what I thought you meant,” you murmured. 

Tsukishima doesn’t reply, just rubs the bit of skin he has contact with. That’s enough for you. The three of you lie there in silence, syncing your breathing, only ever disturbing the peace with rustling of the sheets and clothes until Kuroo speaks again. 

“You know, the scientific theory is based on the fact that your hypothesis is retestable and comparing the results to make sure that they’re in accordance with each other,” Kuroo says into the darkness. 

“Tsukki, please hit him for me,” you say, knowing full well that if you weren’t the most exhausted you’ve ever been, you would have done it much more justice. 

Tsukishima reaches over you and hits Kuroo’s shoulder so hard that you can feel the effects of it in his chest. You can’t help but laugh, and Kuroo does too, so lightly, and yet, you can feel it against your ear. You feel the safest you’ve ever felt in this moment alone.

“Give me a week,” you mutter. 

Kuroo responds far too quickly and eagerly, “Yeah, I mean, of course, whatever you need.”

Part of you thinks that come a week, you’ll regret the words that just came out of your mouth. Another part of you realizes the exact place you’re in, the way Tsukishima is still softly rubbing your hip, and the way Kuroo’s laughter is still taking over your mind. That part of you feels the fabric of their clothing and your own and the sheets beneath you. That part of you knows that even when you were as pushed as you were, you felt safe. That part of you knows that they know you better than you know yourself. 

That part of you knows that you could never pass up an opportunity to give up control, to listen to these men and trust them completely. You could never regret that. 

Just got reminded of yamaguchi tadashi and I'm back in my little haikyuu cage, so I decided to draw something, bc I haven't done that in a while :D I'd like to think it came out well, even though my coloring skills are SHITE.

not fair - ch4

in which your boyfriend is perfect in every single way... except for one and kei can't just sit back and watch you suffer...

previous | ch4 | next (coming soon) [masterlist]

// "what? you want to watch me fuck your ex?" ~ ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ʏᴀᴍᴀɢᴜᴄʜɪ ᴛᴀᴅᴀsʜɪ ~ 12431 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter/tw: 18+ minors dni super nfsw!, cheating (seriously, major plot point), threesome, cucking, vouyerism, size kink, weird feelings, use of character first names, degradation, oral m!receive, dom/sub undertones, coming untouched, stop light system, dirty talk, name calling, coming twice, plot-heavy, cross posted from ao3, afab reader she/her pronouns

send an ask and i’ll add ya to the taglist! ~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

If you could’ve never returned to this place, you wouldn’t have. If you could’ve left it all behind, ran away from the thought of confrontation and explanation, honest to God, you would have. 

You waited it out as long as you could, made do with the things you had at Kei’s place so that you didn’t have to go back to that house, to the space you and Tadashi had once shared. It was annoying, sure, having to figure out how to function without any of your things, but it sure beat the alternative. 

You wanted to convince yourself that this was the rest of your life, living down the street from everything you’ve ever known and owned, but never making any attempt to bridge the gap. 

But you couldn’t survive like this, you knew that, not without your entire wardrobe and your laptop and all of the furniture that you could have considered yours. 

So, yes, if you could’ve never returned to this place, you wouldn’t have. And, absolutely, if you could’ve left it all behind, ran away from the thought of confrontation and explanation, honest to God, you would have, but unfortunately, that’s not how it works, this whole having an affair with your boyfriend’s best friend thing.

So you were there, begrudgingly, standing in front of the front door that you used to push through every single day without a second thought, the key weighing heavy in your pocket as you opted to knock instead because it wasn’t yours anymore with Kei in tow behind you to lift all of the things that you had no interest in moving and also just because you’re not sure you could have done it on your own.

When Tadashi answers the door, when you see him in front of you for the first time in two months you realize that maybe you’re not the only one that’s been sulking in dread since the moment you made these plans. He looks good, better than you expect him to look considering the circumstances, but maybe you just had low expectations.  

He doesn’t greet you, doesn’t acknowledge Kei behind you. He barely looks you in the eyes as he speaks, detached, but not nearly as annoyed as he has every right to be. “Most of your stuff is still upstairs except for the few big things in the living room and kitchen.”

You can see past him inside the house, can see everything in seemingly the same way that you left it, picture-perfect and undisturbed, but you don’t make any move to break the barrier, not even when he turns on his heel and nods towards the upstairs. It’s not until you feel a strong hand on your lower back, encouraging, but not pushing, that you snap out of your own thoughts.

“I’ll start on the few things in the living room and kitchen and you can get whatever you need upstairs. We’ll be out of here fast,” Kei assures, because he knows that you need some type of affirmation just to step inside the house. 

“Right.” 

You expect it to be this big feat, this huge mountain to conquer, stepping back into what was once all you knew, but it’s not. You step over the lip of the front door, carefully and cautiously, and when the tip of your shoe skids across the welcome mat, you feel no different than you did on the car ride over. You can still feel the tightness in your chest and your palms still feel clammy, but that’s it. 

There isn’t any realization that hits you as you walk into the living room, nor is there a huge revelation that takes over you as you peer up the stairs and imagine your old room just the way you left it. When Kei’s hand leaves your lower back, when you’re on your own in foreign grounds, you’re okay. It’s not this dramatic, overwhelming experience. It doesn’t have to be. 

It’s the same thing walking into your old bedroom. This task that you’ve been dreading for as long as it’s been set in stone, and even before, feels, dare you say, manageable. It’s not the same as how you left it. For one, the drawers to Tadashi’s dresser are closed neatly and his bag isn’t lying open on the floor with miscellaneous clothes hanging half out of it. But more than that, the bedspread is completely different down to the sheets and the pillowcases and the curtains are changed, the ones that you helped Tadashi pick out, and the entire room smells like him. This room is no longer a culmination of the two of you, it’s undeniably his just with the pieces that you left behind. 

“I would’ve packed it all up, but I didn’t really want to touch it,” Tadashi comments, sliding an empty box towards you as you approach your dresser.

He’s not lying. You notice, now, how your things are all untouched, strewn across your dresser in the same way that you left them before the fight: a bottle of fragrance with its cap on the other side of the dresser, an open moisturizer, a burnt-out candle, things that could have been tossed without a second thought that he couldn’t so much as push to the side. 

“No, yeah, that’s fine,” you reply, shaking your head as you start to clean up the mess you left all those months ago. 

It’s not a monumental feat, sure, but it is so disgustingly awkward. 

The room is quiet save for the sounds of scrapping furniture from the floor beneath you and the sounds of drawers opening and closing. You have nothing to say to one another anyway. No, that’s a lie. You both have things that are clawing at your throats, things that are fogging your heads so badly that it feels almost hard to breathe, but neither of you is saying any of them.

For you, it’s mostly apologies, better ones than what you left him with that night or what you left on his answering machine numerous times, ones that you’ve thought endlessly about, ones that you mean wholeheartedly even if he wasn’t to accept them, ones that are trying so hard to come out, but are trapped. 

You don’t know what it is for Tadashi, what’s going on in his mind right now, or why he looks so conflicted and distracted. You have a few guesses, inclinations that feel right given the situation you’re both in, but you don’t prod. You move in silence, slinking past him a few times before you notice that he hasn’t moved in a while, stuck in the same place with the same facial expression with the same book in his hands.

You stop pacing, stop packing your things. He doesn’t notice your cease in movement, or if he does, he doesn’t show it. You want to say his name, call out to him and ask if he’s okay, because you’re not sure that anyone’s asked him that in a while, but you can’t get it out of your throat. Instead, you reach out, gently wrapping your fingers around the book and pulling it out of his grasp. 

The contact doesn’t shock him, but it does prompt his moving. He lets his arms fall back to his sides and he turns to look at you, really look at you, for the first time since that night. 

“I don’t,” Tadashi sighs, “why?”

“What?” you ask, because those three words, despite how filled they are with emotions that you can’t quite place, aren’t enough for you to understand. 

“You said that it was bad… with me… but how bad was it?” he asks, so slowly that you’re sure he’s handpicking every single word.

“I-,” you start because you don’t want to leave the question that he’s been internally struggling with all day unanswered, but then you stop because you just can’t fathom answering a question like that. Out of all the things you thought you were going to talk about today, your failed sex life with Tadashi was definitely at the bottom of the list. “Sorry, what?” you ask again, not because you needed him to repeat, but just because you needed time to think.

“How bad was it? Our sex?” he asks again and you struggle to identify the tone that he’s trying to convey. You want to hear the annoyance, the hatred, the disgust, the judgment, but you can’t find any trace of animosity. You don’t reply, still trying to conjure up some sort of response, so he keeps talking, desperate for an answer, “How could he be so much better?”

And then you hear it, not sadness or betrayal, but confusion, no, curiosity.

“I think about it a lot and I can never come up with an answer that makes sense, but I think it’s just because I don’t know enough,” Tadashi continues, mumbling now.

“Dashi,” you start, hesitating for a moment only because the nickname feels so foreign on your tongue, “I don’t really know how to answer that.”

“Honestly,” he says, the curiosity still lingering, but a sense of urgency and entitlement motivating it, “That’s a good place to start.”

“It might be because you don’t know enough,” you offer, using his own words to try to soften the impact. “Kei knows what he wants and he’s precise and he takes care of me, not because he has to, but because he gets just as much pleasure from it as I do.”

He flinches at the sentence but nods along anyway. 

You feel like you’ve said too much already, but Tadashi’s facial features have morphed into a look of intrigue and you can’t help the details that continue to spill from you, “I think with us it was like we were both…” you trail off, trying to find the right words, “Kei has this control, this power over me that I can’t explain, one that you never did.”

You watch the intrigue shift into something else for only a split second, something that looks eerily familiar in this setting nonetheless. He shakes his head, brows furrowing as he fights off the conflict that he’s feeling. “I just, I don’t get it. It doesn’t make sense to me and I wish that it did. I wish that I could understand how he could be so much better than I am,” he says, exasperated and frustrated. “If I could just see-” He doesn’t even get the chance to finish his sentence. 

“What? You want to watch me fuck your ex?”

The voice comes as a shock to both of you, backs turned away from the doorway that Kei now stands directly in the center of. His arms are crossed over his chest and he doesn’t have to be towering as tall over top of you as he is for you to feel as small as you do, but it definitely doesn’t help. 

You’re not exactly sure why you’re feeling this embarrassed. It’s not you that the question is directed at and it’s not you that’s almost pathetically incriminated by your own words. It feels like Kei knows something now that he shouldn’t. That conversation was private, the things that Yamaguchi was admitting to you were private, and now Kei knew them all. You don’t know how much he heard or how long he had been standing there, but you know that it was enough to warrant the permanent cocky grin on Kei’s face. It’s borderline ironic, the embarrassment you were feeling from the lack of privacy given that this is exactly what landed you here in the first place. 

“Is that what you want?” he asks, louder this time, a patronizing laugh following right behind it. 

“Kei,” you begin to object, but he puts his hand up, pointer finger extended up to quiet your attempt to de-escalate the situation, and it works. Whatever argument or defense that you were going to spew has dissolved into nothing.

Kei walks forward, slowly, towards the two of you. He doesn’t say a word, gives Yamaguchi ample time to protest, but he doesn’t. Yamaguchi is standing next to you, stuck in place, his eyes perfectly on Kei as he approaches you. 

“Do you want to watch me do all the things to your ex that you couldn’t? Do you want me to physically show you so that you understand?” Kei asks Yamaguchi, but he’s staring directly at you, closing the gap between his lips and your face, leaning down so leisurely, waiting for some sort of objection from either party. 

His lips brush up against your ear, his breath floating over top of your skin so lightly. Your eyes flutter closed, your breath already uneven as you wait for the contact, but it never comes. Instead, it’s just words, confirmation and the antecedent that you’re so used to by now. “You know the scale, baby. This works the same way, okay? If you get uncomfortable, just say the word,” he says into your ear, soft enough so that Yamaguchi can’t make out what he’s saying. 

You nod and he presses a kiss to your ear, “Good girl.”

He pulls away far too quickly, his absence just making you want him more, but he’s facing Tadashi directly now, forcing his gaze, not physically, but just from the command of his stare. “I’m going to need some sort of verbal consent before I destroy your ex right in front of you, Tadashi,” Kei says and the tone of his voice is so perfectly reminiscent of how he used to talk to you in the beginning, stern and abrupt enough to elicit a response from anyone, especially someone as awestruck as Tadashi.

“Yes,” Tadashi answers, finally. You’re expecting some sort of withdrawal, or regret at the very least, to settle in after and you think Kei is too, but it doesn’t, not even in the pause that Kei allows once Tadashi’s finished speaking. 

“Yes, what?” Kei asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes, I want to understand,” Tadashi responds, the confidence in his words quickly decreasing as he realizes how humiliating it all actually is. 

“No,” Kei denies, his attention fully on you once again, his hands sliding up the sides of your neck to cup your face between his palms. 

“What?” Tadashi asks, evidently confused as he watches Kei begin to touch you. 

“No. That’s not what you’re saying yes to,” Kei explains, softly stroking the sides of your face, “You’re saying yes to sitting there and watching me fuck your ex. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Tadashi says, dimly and not nearly as confidently as the first time, but it’s an agreement nonetheless. 

The second that the confirmation comes out of Tadashi’s mouth, you hold your breath. You don’t need to see the way Kei’s wicked grin spreads across his face or feel the way that his fingertips dig into the back of your neck to know that he was going to put on a show for Tadashi tonight at your expense. 

Kei steps backward, your face still clutched in his grasp as he drags you with him, 4 long strides until he’s colliding with the edge of what used to be your bed. Tadashi’s left standing in place, his back to the dresser as he watches Kei sink into the bed until he’s seated with both of your legs on either side of his own. 

Kei hooks both arms around your waist, pulling you into him, hard, until your stomach is pressed against his chest, and then down, slowly, so that your body rubs against him until you’re seated in his lap. He nudges your head to the side, exposing your neck and humming at the clean canvas in front of him.

He drags his teeth down the side of your neck just hard enough for you to feel the path even when he’s pulled away. He replaces his teeth with his tongue, running the tip of it against your skin before sucking patches of it into his mouth. You let your eyes close gently, focusing on the feeling of his tongue repetitively swiping against the sensitive areas of your neck, and for a moment you forget that Yamaguchi is in the room with you entirely. 

Kei molds his hands around your body, letting them conform to your curves as he slides them to your waist and plants them there, tightly. His fingertips dig into your sides, holding you perfectly still as he grinds his hips up into you. You couldn’t hold it in if you tried, the whimper that escapes your lips at the feeling of his growing length. 

Kei laughs loud enough for everyone in the room to hear it, shows you both how pathetic he thinks you are for acting the way you do in response to such a small movement. He moves his fingers, grabbing at the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head, quickly throwing it to the side. You have no time to even think before he’s unhooking your bra, kissing down your neck to your collarbones as he discards it as well. 

You’ve been naked in front of Yamaguchi plenty of times before, but it’s so different now. Kei is undressing you as he wishes, stripping clothing off of you at whatever pace he wants. You have no control of what Yamaguchi sees or doesn’t see and it’s making you flush in a way that you never have. You’re sure that they can see it, both of them, the way your body is reacting so involuntarily to whatever Kei wants to do to it. 

He pulls off his own shirt so that he can feel his skin against yours so that he can show Yamaguchi how in control of the entire situation he actually is and you’re so acutely aware of how fast everything is moving. His fingers are on the button of your pants, working so effortlessly to undo them, kissing down your chest as he does so before pulling away. 

“Go on,” Kei states, a smirk pulling at his lips with his hands planted firmly at your hips, “Show Tadashi everything that’s no longer his.”

You hesitate, not moving despite the fact that Kei’s thumbs are pressing into your hip bones, pushing you backward. He doesn’t push harder when he feels the resistance. He stills, cocking his head, holding back a scoff as he speaks again, lower, almost offended, “Do I have to repeat myself?”

You shake your head, standing up from his lap and slipping your thumbs into the waistband. “My underwear too?” you ask because you don’t want to get it wrong. 

“What do you think, Tadashi?” Kei asks, looking past you now at Tadashi standing in the same frozen place that he was minutes ago. 

“Yes,” he answers, perhaps too eagerly for how quiet he is. 

“Wrong.”

Tadashi jumps, unaware that the question of what he was thinking had a wrong answer, but he tries again regardless, “No?” It comes out more like a question. 

“Wrong,” Kei repeats.

Tadashi opens his mouth, brows knit together in confusion. Kei doesn’t help him, doesn’t offer guidance, but you know exactly what he wants to hear. It’s quiet in the room for a few moments as Tadashi tries his hardest to understand, to get it right. 

“What do you think, Kei?” he finally answers.

“Good boy,” Kei praises, only letting the gentle cadence linger for seconds before directing his attention back at you, hand slipping into his own waistband as he strokes himself to attention inside his pants. “Take ‘em off.”

You pull them down, facing towards Tadashi as you discard them. You can feel eyes trained on you, both Tadashi’s and Kei’s, and it’s causing a heat to rise into your core and the highs of your cheekbones. You don’t have time to revel in the feeling of exposure that’s taking over you, because Kei is already calling you back over. “Come be a good girl for me.”

When you turn to face him, you watch him spread his legs, his head tilting down to the floor between them as he pushes his pants and boxers to his ankles, exposing himself completely. He doesn’t look any bit remorseful or embarrassed. If it were at all possible, you’d be convinced that he looked somehow even prouder than before, being on display in front of your ex as he barks out commands that you listen so well to.

And you do listen, walking over and taking place between his legs on your knees, sitting back into your heels as you wait for whatever he tells you to do. You know this game well, know how perfectly obedient you have to be when he gets like this, how small of an error you have to make to be punished. “Be on your best behavior, now, okay? We’ve got guests,” he coos at you, sliding his fingers under your chin and curling them against your skin. 

You nod, once, just a short movement of your head for him to know that you will, indeed, be on your best behavior. No taking your own liberties or trying to get a rise out of him on purpose or pushing the boundaries of what you could and couldn’t do, you were going to be good. 

You sit there, perfectly still, not moving at all as he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, angling it down so that his head rubs across your lips, smearing the beads of precome that have already accumulated. He places it gently between your lips, parting but not passing them. 

“Lick your lips, baby. Taste it for me.”

You run the tip of your tongue against your bottom lip and then the top, staring directly up at Kei as you do so, savoring each drop that he left behind. Your tongue barely makes it back in your mouth before he grabs your face. “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” you say, urgently, overlapping the end of his question, but he doesn’t seem to mind, not when your gratitude to him is so instinctual. 

“You want more, don’t you? You want to feel it down your throat, don’t want to be able to breathe, right?” he asks, already lining himself up between your lips. 

You answer without hesitation, “Yes, please, Kei.”

In an instant, his hand is on the back of your head, fingers laced into your hair as he pulls you down on his cock in one fluent motion. It takes everything in you not to gag at the way his head jams against the back wall of your throat. He holds you there, your lips at the base of his cock as he groans at how warm you are around him. 

You’re waiting for him to pull you off completely or, at the very least, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he doesn’t. Your hands are gripping onto his thighs and your eyes are shut so tightly trying not to tap out, trying to show him and Yamaguchi how good you can be for Kei. 

“Stay there, baby, you’re doing so good,” he praises, but you can barely focus on the words. The grip on his thighs is getting weak and he can feel you trying to gasp for air around his cock and he still has so much more planned for you so he pulls you forcefully off of him. He uses the fistful of your hair to guide your attention, your chest heaving and mouth agape trying to get in as much air as you can. You can feel the spit dripping down your chin and are only now aware of the tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“Look at Tadashi. Show him how pretty you are when someone knows how to use you,” Kei coos. 

You turn your head just far enough to make eye contact with Tadashi and however you thought that he was going to react is completely thrown out the window. He’s staring at you, wide-eyed and timid, swallowing thickly as his eyes scan every inch of your face. He might even be more affected by Kei using your throat than you were. 

“Isn’t she pretty, Tadashi?” Kei asks, talking about you as if you weren’t sitting right between his legs. 

Tadashi nods but doesn’t say anything, too shocked, you’re sure, to form thoughts, let alone sentences and responses. 

“Back at me,” Kei commands, any ounce of adoration gone from his tone now, “Open.” You move to turn back to Kei and you catch it so briefly, the tent in Tadashi’s pants that twitches at the sound of Kei’s voice. 

You open your mouth as wide as you can manage, breathing consistently as you wait for his cock. He slips back into your mouth, more attentively this time, letting the underside of his cock slide against your tongue so that you can feel every pulsing vein and wrinkle of skin. “Close your lips around it, nice and tight like a little hole for me to fuck, okay?”

You hum around his cock in acknowledgment and form a tight ring around him. “I’m going to get as deep as I can and you’re going to swallow around me.” You hum again, the vibrations of your lips causing him to shudder. “Keep your eyes open, look directly at me.” There’s this authority in his eyes, one more intense than the ones he’s had in the past, one that’s so sure that you’re going to obey him. 

And you do. And you will. 

He pulls you deeper onto his cock until your face is pressed against his skin. You struggle to keep eye contact with him in this position that he’s forced you into, but you still do, desperate to keep listening to him. You swallow around his hard length, allow the ring you’ve made around his cock to loosen for only a moment as you suck in all the juices that you’ve created so that you can swallow again. Your throat massages his length and his head and you know how good you’re being for him because the fist he has in your hair tightens, his fingers shaking as he mutters a fuck . 

“Fuck, look how well she listens,” he groans, talking about you, not at you once again and you can feel yourself flood because of it, from being talked about, over top of, as if you’re not even in the room, like you’re not on your knees being used like a whore. “I’m going to fuck her throat now. I think she’s earned it, being such a good girl for me.”

Kei continues, “Watch closely. You’ll see how much she loves being used like this.” He starts moving your head up and down his cock, letting your spit coat his cock and drool onto the base. It’s forceful, but it’s not the worst that you’ve endured with Kei’s cock in your mouth. Until he lifts his hips off of the bed to meet your face, thrusting upwards to slide down your throat as far as he can and as hard as he can.

He wraps his fingers around your neck to feel the bulge that he’s created. He presses his fingers into it, groaning as he massages his length through your throat, simultaneously not allowing you to breathe. “God, you’re so fucking good.” You swallow around him again, trying to pleasure him in whatever way you can, trying to prove to him that you’re so fucking good, but you can be better. You stick your tongue out, gagging at how deep he is, convulsing around his thick cock. 

And then your mouth is empty. 

You look up at Kei, clearly now that your head isn’t bobbing violently around his cock. You can see his toned chest rising and falling and the look in his eyes of fading composure and you feel much prouder than you probably should given the amount of control you even had in that situation. “What?” he asks, breathy, but still just as much of an asshole, “Do you want a prize for doing what you were supposed to?”

He doesn’t give you time to answer. He leans forward, his mouth positioned directly above yours and you know what’s coming so well that you open your mouth before the word has even finished coming out of his mouth. He spits down your throat, harshly so that you don’t even have time to appreciate the taste. 

“Thank you,” you say without prompt. 

“On the bed. On your back. Legs spread. Heels into the mattress,” Kei barks out, paying no mind to your gratitude, despite how much he knows you want to be praised for it. He stands up from the bed, giving you room to crawl onto the middle of it into the exact position he’s described. 

“This is how you liked to fuck her, huh, Tadashi? Missionary? Was it so that you could see her pretty face while you fucked her?” He grabs your face, rests your chin in between his thumb and his pointer finger and then claws all five digits into your jaw. He jerks your head in his hand, showing you off to Tadashi, your eyes half-lidded just waiting for Kei to finally fill you. 

“There’s no way it could look as wrecked as it does when I fuck her, so I don’t really see the appeal for you,” Kei says, and then he stops moving, turning with your face still in his hand as he looks at Tadashi, “Or was it because you just didn’t know any better?”

Tadashi doesn’t answer, not with words anyway, rather, he mumbles something inaudible. Kei ignores whatever he’s trying to say. It was a rhetorical question. He didn’t need Tadashi to answer. He already knew the answer. 

Kei moves onto the bed, right in between your legs. He hasn’t touched you, has only used your mouth for his own pleasure, and yet, you’re so dripping wet that there’s already a dark spot on the blankets below you. He places an open hand on your stomach, pressing down to hold you in place as he rubs the tip of his cock between your lips, moaning at the feeling of your wetness slicking his head. 

“Sit,” Kei commands, but it’s not to you, it’s to Tadashi. He doesn’t point or gesture, just stares at the edge of the bed that neither of you is occupying. 

Tadashi listens after a moment of reluctance, taking slow, careful steps towards the side of the bed that Kei was looking at, as if moving any faster would result in punishment. You can feel the dip in the bed and you turn your head to look at him. There’s uncertainty painted all over his face, but the curiosity still remains. 

Your attention returns when you feel Kei push inside you just enough for you to swallow his head. He moves his hand from your stomach and his hand from the base of his cock and he uses them, now, to grab any part of your body that he can touch. He lets his fingers curl over your skin, kneads your tits and brushes his thumbs against your hard nipples, scratches red marks down your neck and chest, anything to keep your focus on him and not the third-party observer. 

You’re so busy focusing on how handsy he is, on thinking about where his touch will float to next, that when he slams inside of you without warning, a high-pitched scream tears from your abused throat. His hips are pressed against the insides of your thighs and he doesn’t move, just stares down at your doe-like eyes as you silently beg him for more. 

He pulls out of you, leisurely, feeling how tightly you’re squeezing around him, suctioning him back in. When he fucks into you again, you’re more prepared this time. The sound that leaves you isn’t a surprised scream, it’s a thankful groan. You know that if he wanted to, he could make you come in seconds, but he’s drawing it out, letting Yamaguchi watch how destroyed you get from such slow, methodical movements. 

When he sets a nice pace, fucking in and out of you, purposefully missing your g-spot so that the pleasure is coming only from how deep he’s going and how full you are, the surprise aspect fading away, for now, you’re intently aware on how close Tadashi is sitting next to you. If you were to reach out your arm, you could touch him. He was there, sitting on the bed, watching you get fucked better than he could ever manage. 

You turn your head to face him once again. You want to know what he looks like while he’s watching you and it doesn’t disappoint. His lips are parted so slightly and they’re sheened from spit as he keeps licking his lips and swallowing harshly. Your eyes follow his neck and his heaving chest and you catch a glimpse of how hard he is for only a moment before Kei’s hand is grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look back at him.

“Don’t look at him,” Kei snaps, his hips slamming into you harsher now, the sound of them slapping against your thighs getting louder, “Look at me. Focus on me. Don’t pay attention to him. He’s just there to watch. I’m fucking you.”

You stare up at him, eyes unfocused as they dart around Kei’s face and you want to listen to him. You want to be absolutely faultless for him, but when Kei mentions that Tadashi is just here to watch you, Tadashi whimpers. It’s soft and you can feel the embarrassment radiating off of him the second that it happens and you want to see him.

Your eyes wander for only a moment, flicking to the side to see if you can catch a sliver of whatever Tadashi looks like right now. The entire situation is so new, everything is developing so quickly, and you want to listen, but you’re just as curious as Tadashi is. Kei’s fingers dig into your chin harder, his hips pressed flat against yours in an instant as he speaks through gritted teeth, “Do you want him to fuck you?”

You start shaking your head, verbal disagreement coming out of your mouth, but he interrupts you, “No, that’s fine. He can fuck you and I’ll leave if that’s what you want.”

“No, no, no, no, please, Kei, I’m sorry,” you babble, the words leaving your mouth on pure necessity, “I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave. Please fuck me.”

“Then fucking pay attention to me,” Kei pulls out and fucks the breath right out of your lungs, “only me.”

Any amount of curiosity you could feel doesn’t outweigh the need you have to be fucked so rawly right now. Tadashi isn’t even a second thought anymore. 

“Yes, fuck, okay,” you nod, tears filling your eyes as he starts to pound into you again, “only you,” you murmur repetitively as he picks up speed. You don’t ask before clasping your fingers together behind his neck, pulling his head down to your level, and pressing his forehead into yours, but he doesn’t protest. His chin is pressed against his sternum, looking down at your body and the way that every inch of his length is being swallowed by your hole. 

He can feel you tightening around him like you always do when you’re about to come. You don’t even have to tell him anymore, he just knows, but you know that he likes to hear you anyway. You talk softly, the admittance feeling like betrayal given the other person in the room, but your want to appease Kei overrides that tenfold. “Gonna come,” you murmur. 

“You want to watch her come?” Kei asks, and Tadashi doesn’t even try to hide behind reservation, “Like, actually come? Not fake it like you typically see her do?” Tadashi’s nodding fervently, no remorse or apprehension to his desperation. “Well then, let’s show him how good you actually look when you’re coming all over a nice, thick cock, (y/n).”

He picks up the pace, pistoning into you faster than he was before, reaching one of his arms down to rub tiny circles into your clit, and angling his cock to rub against your g-spot right as you reach your edge. You pull Kei into you deeper as you come, your fingers gripping around each other and Kei’s neck as you clench around him. Thank yous are leaving your mouth incessantly, one after the other so quickly that they’re overlapping.

He doesn’t stop after you’ve finished, keeps going with his repetitive motions that brought you over the edge, knows that you’re already feeling sensitive from your first orgasm and uses that to his advantage. “That wasn’t enough. Come again. Show him how much power I have over you that he never did.” And you do. You’re screaming this time, nails digging into the back of Kei’s neck as he brutally fucks into your hole as it floods even more. 

“Look at Tadashi when you’re finished. Tell him how good it was,” Kei says, and you don’t see his face, not when you’re so delightfully blissed out from two consecutive orgasms, but you can hear the smirk in his tone. Kei pulls away from your grasp and without the grounds that his strong body was giving you, your arms fall to your sides. Your head falls against the pillow, ear flat against it as you look at Tadashi.

“It was really good, Dashi. He made me feel so good.” It slips out of your mouth without much thought, your brain on autopilot, just listening to Kei’s directions and you only notice the weight of them as Tadashi’s eyes widen. He’s marveling at the power that Kei has, at how quickly you listen to him, and how harshly he made you come in such a short amount of time and it looks like it clicks. 

It looks like he understands now, the difference between him and Kei, the reason that sex with him wasn’t as good, how Kei is so much better than him, why Kei deserves the attention you’re giving him, why he deserves to be ignored, and he’s not mad. He wants more. 

“How else did you like to fuck her?” Kei asks and when Tadashi doesn’t answer right away, he continues, “I know that there aren’t a lot of options to choose from, so this shouldn’t be too hard.”

Tadashi speaks, stammers through his words because no matter what answer he comes up with, it won’t be a confident one, “Um, I- Doggy style.”

“Yeah?” he asks as if he didn’t know all along what his answer would be. “On all fours,” he orders. “Face Tadashi so he can actually see what you look like when you’re getting wrecked, okay?”

You turn over, positioned on the bed on your hands and knees with a direct line of sight on Tadashi who is staring at you in awe. No matter how humiliating this is for you, it’s nothing compared to what Tadashi is sure to be feeling right now, but it seems like he’s soaking in it. You feel Kei move behind you, hear him spit onto his cock and then line himself up, pressing forward between your lips.

Kei roots both of his hands onto your shoulders and you close your eyes in anticipation. He pulls you back onto his cock, thrusting his hips to meet you halfway. He uses the grip on your shoulders to control his movements so precisely, to dictate how much of his cock he’s giving you, no matter how much you’re begging.

“You want more, sweetheart?” He lets the name drip off of his tongue like venom-laced honey. You’re not sure if he sees the shock that washes over Tadashi’s face or if it even matters to Kei, the exact reaction that it pulls from your observer. All you know is that you get to see it in full view. You watch the astonishment settle in first and then the disbelief, all followed by betraying arousal. The tent in his pants twitches, a small dark circle forming at the very top and you can’t take your eyes off of it. 

Kei’s thrusts are getting rougher, the sound of his hips against your ass matching the volume of your moans and drowning out the tiny whimpers that are coming from Tadashi. Kei’s name comes out of your mouth, breathy and sandwiched between moans that he’s coercing out of you, but that won’t do. 

The sound of his palm flat against your ass fills your ears before the sting sets in or the warmth starts to spread. “It’s okay. Say my name nice and loud while you’re getting fucked from behind,” Kei coaxes, the back of his hand making contact with your already red cheek, “It’s not like he hasn’t heard you say it before.”

Tadashi groans, embarrassed and trying to hold back how turned on he is by the whole situation. You close your eyes. You can’t bring yourself to look Tadashi in the face right now, can’t muster the courage as you listen to Kei. His name leaves your mouth much clearer now, actually audible this time. “Because who’s the only one that can make you feel good?” he asks, fucking into your g-spot with such purpose. 

“You, Kei, fuck, you’re the only one that can make me feel good, Kei,” you moan, “You’re the one that’s making me feel so good. ‘m close already, Kei, fuck, all because of you.”

“Already close?” Kei asks, snickering as he does. “You’re about to come for the third time, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod because all he has to do is say the word and you’ll come around him again. You want it so badly, for him to let you come again. You’re waiting for it, breathing softer so that you don’t miss the words, but they don’t come, not in the way you want them to, at least. “Why don’t you ask Tadashi if you can come? He’ll tell you when to come.”

Your first thought is to ask why, but you know that’s not your place. You open your mouth to obey, to ask Tadashi if you can come, but Tadashi is the one questioning, “Wh- What?”

Kei answers so matter-of-factly that you’re sure his intention is to make him feel stupid for even thinking it. “Well, you’ll never make her come so you might as well have the privilege of telling her to come and then watching her actually come.”

Tadashi doesn’t look any less confused than he was when Kei first said it, but he listens nonetheless. He doesn’t wait long, the falter probably coming from him trying to find the right words rather than to control your orgasm. “I- Yo- You can c-,” Tadashi stutters through. It feels awkward coming out of his mouth, any sort of power. You can tell how much he hates having this sort of control, how uncomfortable he feels telling you what to do. 

But you’re still close. Kei’s still hammering in and out of you relentlessly. You’re about to let go, reveling in the feeling of Kei slamming into you while waiting for Tadashi to finish his sentence just as you would let Kei finish his when Kei pulls out of you in one quick motion. 

“No,” is the first word to leave your mouth followed by the same word over and over again, “no, no, no, no.” You were so close, completely on the edge, only needing permission to actually come and it was ripped away from you so easily. You feel so empty, clenching around nothing now as your high leaves you so quickly. 

Kei laughs from behind you and you’re not sure who exactly he’s laughing at, you begging so desperately for him to let you come, to slide back into you so that you can just feel him inside of you, or Tadashi who is sitting there, so fucking hard, like his life has been changed in that single instant. Control was dangled in front of his face and it was gone instantaneously, or maybe, it was never there in the first place. 

“You’re nothing,” Kei laughs, “You have no power over her. Only I do.”

Actual tears are forming in your eyes. You arch your back, trying to get his attention. You just want his attention. “Kei, please, please, no, please make me come, Kei, please,” you beg. He lets out another breathy laugh, clicking his tongue at how pathetic both of you are. 

It all happens in the same moment. He grips onto your hips, digging his fingers in so harshly that you can feel the crescent moon indents that he’s making. He pulls you backward, violently, but controlled. And he commands, so spitefully that doing anything else would have felt like you were personally wronging him.  

“Come for me.”

He doesn’t fuck you through your orgasm, but you don’t need him to. Just the feeling of him filling you to the brim with his fat cock is exactly what you need. Waves of pleasure ripple through you and you can feel it in every inch of your body, but somehow, that’s not the most important thing that just happened.

You’re about to close your eyes, to just relish in how good Kei can make you feel from doing so little, how grateful you are for him, but then you see it. You see Tadashi’s face scrunch into ecstasy, the dark stain on his pants growing as the tent throbs and twitches, untouched. The strangled noises that are coming from his throat demand to be listened to and you can’t take your eyes off of him as he comes, unabashed only as he rides his high. His hips are thrusting upwards into absolutely nothing and you’re positive that you have never seen him look this wrecked while he’s come ever. 

The second that he stops grunting, the moment that his cock stops twitching against the fabric of his pants, he places a hand over his mouth. He breathes heavily against his palm and the distress sets in. His cock is still hard even after he came, untouched and unintentionally in his pants to a command that was meant for you. Kei notices right away, pushes past the surprise that even he’s experiencing to taunt Tadashi in this perfect state he’s in right now. 

“You just fucking came and you’re still hard seeing me buried deep inside your ex?” Kei asks. Previously,  Kei let Tadashi’s captivated eyes answer the questions. He didn’t need words, not when he knew exactly what Tadashi was thinking and what he was trying to say without even really saying it, but this time, he wanted to hear him. “Answer me.” The strictness in his voice makes you tighten around him on instinct. 

“Yes,” Tadashi answers, his voice fragile as he continues because he knows it’s not enough to satisfy Kei, “Yes, Kei, I’m still hard.”

“So you are capable of lasting more than one round? (y/n) said that you couldn’t,” Kei smirks, knowing fully well that he has an entire arsenal of things, just like this one, that you told him in confidence, that you thought would never get back to Tadashi. “Well, you might as well come on purpose this time.”

Tadashi’s voice is as shaky as he is as it leaves him, “C- can I?” 

“Can you what?” Kei questions, tilting his head to the side. He knows exactly what Tadashi wants, but he wants him to work for it. 

A flush falls over Tadashi’s soft features, intensifying until you can see it in the tips of his ears. “Can I touch myself while you fuck her?” It’s the clearest thing he’s said all night. It’s quiet, but each word is crisp so that Kei can’t miss a single one. 

“Are you going to listen as well as (y/n) does?” he asks. 

“Yes, Kei,” Tadashi answers, quickly and assured. 

“You better make yourself last for once. I saw how quickly you came without even touching yourself. Make sure you don’t come as quickly as you usually do, understand?” Kei asks, pulling out of you, slowly so that you can feel his entire length as it leaves you.

“Yes, Kei,” Tadashi repeats himself, his voice wavering as the realization hits him, how much Kei knows about his sex life. He fumbles with the waistband of his pants, pulling them down as quickly as he can manage. 

Tadashi isn’t small. You know that. You’ve told Kei that. And yet, compared to how much bigger Kei is than him, how much girthier and how much longer his cock is, you can’t help but notice a difference, to feel like Tadashi should be insecure with his size. Kei scoffs as he watches Tadashi wrap his fist around his cock. “I guess (y/n) wasn’t lying when she said I’m able to hit all the spots you never could. Might be difficult for you to.”

Precome drips from Tadashi’s head, his cock twitches at the mention of his inadequacies, and he’s nodding right along to Kei’s humiliation. His strokes are unsure at first, hesitant and slow as he adjusts to the thought of touching himself to you getting fucked by his former best friend. 

There isn’t a single part of your sex life with Tadashi that Kei doesn’t know about, Tadashi realizes now. Every tiny detail and major part of your intimacy has been laid out in front of Kei to nitpick and assess. He knows everything. He didn’t even get to consent to it, to the humiliation that he’s feeling so heavily now, and somehow that just makes it hotter for him. 

He’s in such a submissive headspace now, feels himself slipping with no regard into a place of listening and only doing what he’s told and he doesn’t want to go back. 

“C’mon, baby, you gotta show Tadashi how good you ride me,” Kei says, helping you to your feet before lying on the bed, his hard cock standing straight up for you. “Give him something to jerk his small cock to, yeah?”

You swing your leg over top of him, pressing your knees into the soft mattress as he lines himself up with you. His head is sliding between your lips, slipping so messily against your pussy from how wet he’s made you and how many times you’ve come around him. 

You arch your back, pushing backward until you feel his head enter you and then you don’t stop. You keep pushing backward until you engulf every inch of him with your warm walls. Your chest is resting on his as you slide up and down, your tits rubbing against him as you fuck yourself with his cock. You run your fingers through his hair, pushing stray strands out of his face as you look down at him. For all the talk that he does about how ruined he makes you look, he hasn’t really taken into account how he looks when you have an ounce of control.

“You never rode him like this, have you?” he asks, swallowing thickly as you circle your hips and shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip as you fuck yourself as meticulously as he normally fucks you. 

“No, baby,” you shake your head, a look of faux concern gracing your features as you coo down at him. This is what happens when he gives you an inkling of control. The smirk that’s normally on his lips finds its place on yours and the dazed look on your face finds its place on his and typically he soaked in it, in letting go and giving you the reins if only for a few minutes, but he had a reputation to hold up, one of demands and steadfast power. 

He sits up, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist and the other arm extended behind him, giving him some sort of leverage as he pushes you up as well. You’re fully seated on his cock now, can feel it so deep inside of you that you never want to move. His fingers mold around your ribs, pressing into the bones as he picks his hips up, lifting you with them. 

He leans his forehead against your shoulder biting small nips into your flesh as he raises you up enough to fuck his cock into you. Any amount of control that you had moments ago is gone now as grips onto you tightly, grunting as he moves both of your bodies in time with one another. 

He never pulls far enough out to make you miss the feeling, fucks you by moving only inches, but you’re crumbling so quickly paired with everything else. You can’t move, don’t want to even if you could. He has such a death grip on whatever he can reach of you and you can feel his hot skin in every single place that it’s making contact with your own. You have no idea how he’s managing to fuck you so brutally when he’s so close to you the entire time. The backs of your thighs feel like they’re on fire from how hard he’s thrusting up into you. Your legs are shaking and you don’t even notice how hard you’re breathing until you watch him kiss your chest. 

“Kei, I’m gonna come,” you mutter, swallowing whatever’s in your mouth because your throat feels so dry, “I’m gonna come, Kei, fuck.”

“No,” he scowls, his cock ramming into you harder now, “Don’t. Not yet. Not until I tell you you can.”

“But, Kei, please,” you choke out, “Please.”

“What did I just say?” he asks, impatient and testing and you know that you shouldn’t push it any further, but your core is tightening and your pussy is throbbing around him and you can hear the sounds of Tadashi whimpering as he jerks himself off barely 2 feet away from you and it’s so much.

“Kei, I need- please-”

With the position that he’s in, he can’t reach you with his hands, they’re far too busy. You know that if you were in any other position, his hand would be on your throat or in your hair or against your cheek at the first sound of disobedience, but he can’t. He can’t put his hands on you and also keep destroying you so perfectly, so he sinks his teeth into your neck, rolls the skin between them before migrating down to your collarbone and doing the same thing there. You can feel the imprints of his teeth, the marks that he’s leaving behind with the lingering pain and it’s making it that much harder to hold it. 

“I won’t repeat myself again,” he grunts into your skin. 

“Yes, Kei,” you oblige, closing your eyes as he continues his pace. You try to let your mind wander, to find other things to focus on while you’re getting fucked so good , anything to distract you from how close to the edge you actually are. 

You hold it for much longer than you think you will. You just want to make him proud. You can feel the sweat on his forehead as it slips against your shoulder and you can see the shine of his stomach and feel his grip getting weaker and you’re confident that he can’t possibly make you wait for your reward any longer. Your cunt is clamped around him so tight that you’re not even sure how he’s still able to fuck you so consistently. 

His thrusts slow four times. You count every single one, every slow fuck into you. If you had been with Kei for less time, you’d think he was giving you a break, but you haven’t. You’ve been with Kei for a handful of time now, know him and how he fucks you so well that you’re barely surprised when he starts fucking you even harder. You’re barely phased when he lifts you with his hips so harshly, keeps you in that position with one solid grip, and then rams into you with a force you didn’t think he could muster in this position.  

“‘m sorry, Kei, I-,” you breathe, tears forming as you rest your cheek against his head. “‘m so sorry. I can’t hold it. I can’t. I can’t.”

“Hold it,” he orders, so sternly that disobeying him feels that much more satisfying. Your eyes roll back in your head, your body begins to fall backward, but Kei holds you in place. With the way you’re positioned, how your weight is pushing back on his arm, he can’t pick you up anymore, can’t fuck into you as deeply as he wants to. Instead, he keeps you seated on his cock as he circles his hips, rocks them against you so that you can feel him move inside of you, against your g-spot and it’s absolutely ruining you. 

He lets you fall backward now, flat against the bed between his legs. You’re barely cognitive after how hard you just came, but he pulls you out of it. “I told you not to come,” he says, grabbing your face in his hand and guiding your gaze so forcefully that your neck hurts. His harsh grip fades, but his touch still lingers, soft now, as he scratches gentle lines into your neck. “But you couldn’t help it, could you?” he asks. 

You shake your head, a confirming noise leaving you in response. 

“I just make you feel too fucking good?” he asks, but not really. He’s not really saying it for you. He’s saying it for Tadashi, for him to hear not just once from him, but twice, repeated back how much power Kei has. 

“You just make me feel too fucking good, Kei, I’m sorry,” you apologize, eyes boring up at him as you try to catch your breath.

“See? You can’t make her come even when you try so hard, but she can’t stop herself from coming for me,” Kei says, looking away from you and towards Tadashi on the edge of the bed. He’s nodding along, hanging onto every single word that comes out of Kei’s mouth, wanting to listen to just how much better he is than him. 

“Because you’re pathetic, sitting there, jerking yourself off while I fuck your ex, huh?” Kei taunts, cocking his head. His condescending tone makes Tadashi throb in his own hand as he tugs on his cock desperately, moaning affirmation. 

“Am… Am I doing good, Kei?” he asks, all caution thrown to the wind now as he flat-out requests praise. He wants to hear the same praises that you were being told. He wants Kei to call him a good boy again.

“Are you doing good?” Kei repeats the question, standing up and walking over to him, lowering himself to look directly at his cock. “I don’t know. Show me.”

Kei doesn’t touch Tadashi, isn’t even close enough for Tadashi to feel his breath, or the ghost of potential contact, but Tadashi looks like he’s trying so hard. “Yes, Kei.” His strokes are more methodical now, less haphazard as he pays attention to his grip and his pressure and the way that his thumb swipes over his head. 

Kei’s eyes don’t leave Tadashi’s cock as he directs you, “Come here. Legs off the side of the bed right next to Dashi.”

It takes everything in you, every ounce of strength you still have to move where he wants you to. You’re so close to Tadashi now that you can feel the heat radiating off of him, can hear the sounds his hand is making sliding up and down his cock so well now. 

“You’re doing so good, Dashi,” Kei finally says, his fingertips hovering over Tadashi’s thighs, but not touching. “Such a good boy for me.”

Tadashi’s strong strokes falter, stutters so noticeably that the words that come next are no surprise. “Can- can I come, Tsukki?” he asks, the nickname slipping from his lips unapologetically as you both watch him stroke himself faster.

Kei could have edged him for hours, would have loved every second of it, but you’re not sure if Tadashi could’ve handled him like you could, not yet at least. “Since you asked so nicely,” Kei smirks, “Come for me like a good boy.”

Tadashi nods enthusiastically, thanking him repeatedly as he thrusts up into his hand, his strokes becoming sloppy as his breathing gets heavier. Kei watches him, eyes fixed as Tadashi spills over his hand, coming in thick ropes that shoot up onto his shirt, adding to the mess he’s made on his clothes today. “Thank you, Kei, thank you,” he says coherently as soon as he’s caught his breath. 

Kei stands up, barely moving to get in between your legs. You reach your hand up, letting it fall over his stomach, trying to touch him in whatever way you can. “Are you going to use me to make you come, now?” you ask, innocently enough. 

He doesn’t reply, just slips inside of you so quickly that you can feel him stabbing inside of you. There’s no waiting for you to get adjusted or giving you a moment to take in the fullness, he’s just fucking into you relentlessly now. “Are you going to make me come?” he asks, matching your tone with a bit more arrogance.

“Yes, Kei,” you reply, the words being fucked out of you right alongside your breath with every stab inside of you. You squeeze around him, your tight hole massaging his length, coating him with the slickness from how drenched he’s made you. 

“Play with yourself,” he groans, “Wanna see you play with yourself.”

You snake your hand down to your clit, rubbing exaggerated circles into your sensitive nub, whining Kei’s name as you bring your fingers to your lips and suck your taste off of them. 

“I’m going to come so fucking deep inside her and you’re going to eat it all out. Every last drop,” Kei orders Tadashi. Your pussy clenches at the thought, tightening around Kei’s length as his hips stutter at the sudden tightness. 

“Please, please, wanna feel you come so deep, Kei, please,” you beg, grabbing onto his wrist in desperation. You can see his resolve slipping, can feel his cock begin to throb against your walls. You place one hand on his cheek, coiling your fingers against his skin. But it’s not the touch that does it or the way your throat is so raw that your words come out weak, it’s Tadashi that pushes him over the edge. 

“Wanna eat your come, please,” Tadashi says so softly, so sweetly that even Kei couldn’t deny it. 

Obscenities leave his mouth as his chin falls to his chest, pushing himself so deep inside of you that you can follow the pulses of his cock from the base to the tip. Each throb is another stream, another rope of come that fills you fuller and fuller. He doesn’t move, doesn’t fuck it deeper into you and let it coat his length. He stills, his hips pressed into you until he drains himself completely inside of you, not letting anything drip out. 

You don’t want him to leave, don’t want to feel empty, but you know what’s coming next and the thought is making your toes curl. “Dashi, on your knees,” Kei instructs and you hear the thud instantaneously. “Don’t you dare waste a single drop.”

“No, I promise,” Tadashi swears eagerly, more ready than he’s ever been to eat you out.

When Kei pulls out of you, there is only a momentary second that you can count, a beat of cool air against your sloppy pussy before Tadashi’s lips are placed around it, his tongue diving so deep into you that you’re almost convinced that Kei’s never even gotten that deep. 

Your pussy is so sensitive from Kei’s relentless pounding and your own touches to your clit that you feel a familiar heat rise into your stomach. Your hands are shaking as they part Tadashi’s soft hair, grabbing onto it gently so you don’t disturb him. Though, you’re certain that you couldn’t tear him away from between your legs if you tried.

His tongue is delving into your hole, using the tip as a scoop to coax out any bit of cum that is too deep for him to shallowly lap up. He places his lips around your hole and sucks, pulling any drops that he can’t get out with his tongue, suctioning as hard as he can. And when you’re positive that you’re no longer filled with cum, he doesn’t stop. He continues to run his tongue between your lips, pressing the flat of it so mercilessly into you, flicking the tip against your clit so perfectly that it almost feels intentional.

It’s not, God, it’s not. The amount of times that you tried endlessly to help him understand, to show him what you needed never proved to be successful, but in this moment in time, it’s perfect. Everything about this second, this experience is perfect and it doesn’t matter how convenient of an accident it is. 

“Kei, Kei, I’m-” You’re staring up at Kei, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, swallowing harshly, “He’s- he’s gonna make me come.”

You’re not even sure that Tadashi heard you, so focused on getting any last morsel of the cum out of you, any remnant that Kei left behind, so sensitive, so much. 

“Fuck, that’s so good, Dashi,” you reposition your hands in his hair, not guiding, just to ground yourself. “That’s so good, don’t stop.”

Kei calls down, tells Tadashi to play with your tits as he goes, tells him that it’ll drive you crazy and he does. It does. It’s not as meticulous as when Kei does it, because of course, it’s not. His fingers aren’t as long as Kei’s and they don’t move as rhythmically as Kei’s, but his tongue is diving into you with an intent he’s never had before and you’re so sensitive and it’s so much and-

You’re coming, hard, right against Tadashi’s tongue, rolling your hips, not because he’s doing anything wrong or because you need something more, but because you can’t help yourself. Your body is reacting on its own, grinding onto Tadashi’s face, fingers so tight in his locks that he’s whimpering against you, but he doesn’t stop. 

Tadashi couldn’t do this on his own. You know that more than anyone. You’re not even sure that he was trying to make you come. You’re sensitive from Kei, on edge from him filling you so full without letting you come, and Tadashi pushed you exactly where you needed to be with the head start he was given.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy,” you moan when you can finally see straight. He hasn’t stopped, no one’s told him to, and Kei doesn’t look like he intends to, but you’re so sensitive that it almost hurts and you want to see his face, so you rest your hand on his shoulder. “Dashi, you can stop, you did so good.”

“Can- Can I come again?” he asks, looking up at Kei, his face still hovering over your pussy. 

“Are you hard again, Dashi?” Kei asks, overwhelming shock showing on his face, whether it’s intentional or not. 

Tadashi shakes his head, “No, but I- I have to come. I want to come so badly.”

“Then come, Dashi, you’ve earned it. You finally made her come for once. You’re not completely useless after all,” Kei says, watching the bliss take over Tadashi’s face as he speaks, “Come for us again. Show us that you can listen and be a good boy for us and maybe we’ll fuck you again.”

It looks almost painful, the way his eyes squeeze so tightly and his mouth opens so wide as the most strangled noise comes out of it. He rocks against his own hand, his heavy breaths against your sensitive pussy feeling so warm. He just wants you to be proud of him, for both of you to be. 

“So good, Dashi, that’s a good boy,” you praise.

When his eyes flutter open again, when he regains whatever amount of coherence that he can, he thanks you. Neither of you has even touched him tonight and, still, he looks so grateful. You can only imagine how wrecked he’ll look when you actually get your hands on him. The thought stops you in your tracks. You look over at Kei and how he’s looking down at Tadashi in awe and you wonder if he meant it, what he said about fucking him again. 

“Here, let’s get you into bed,” you say, sitting up. It feels weird being on this side of it and not completely in Tadashi’s position, being tucked into bed after being wrecked so hard. He doesn’t refuse. He lets you and Kei help him to his feet and get him into bed. You know how taxing it is to be in that position for the first time, for sex to finally be good for you, even if he barely participated in the actual act itself. 

“I’m still mad at you, y’know,” Tadashi mumbles as you pull the blanket up over his chin. “I have the right to be mad at you, both of you.”

“Dashi,” you say as you exhale, but he cuts you off. 

“I’m not finished,” he says, “I’m still mad at you because it was a really shitty thing to do to me.” He pauses, not trailing off, but letting you both really hear the words, “But I think I understand now in some weird way, not just how our sex was not good at all, but how important it is.”

“I’m sorry, Tadashi, honestly, I am. I should have told you. I should have talked to you about everything and I didn’t and I’m sorry,” you say, letting the apology that’s been in your brain for weeks finally come out. 

“I know,” he says, yawning now as everything catches up to him. “I know and it’s not okay, but it’s getting there.” 

You go to reply, open your mouth to respond, but Kei stops you, shaking his head as he gestures to the way that Tadashi’s breathing is even now and his eyelids are no longer fluttering. Then, he gestures to the door, picking up your clothes from the floor and handing them back to you before putting on his own. 

There are boxes scattered on the floors, an ample amount of things that are not packed up that should be. Honestly, this room is far more of a mess now than it was when you got here, but at least he’ll feel okay pushing your things to the side now. 

You shut the front door, locking it behind you with your key. Kei waits for you patiently, his hand extended out for when you’re ready to grab it. You intertwine your fingers with his. 

“Not necessarily how I thought moving your things would go, but I’m not mad about it,” Kei says, breaking the silence. 

“Of course you weren’t, you had two people to control. What a dream come true for you and your superiority complex,” you joke, though it’s not really a joke. He knows that. He doesn’t mind. 

You walk hand-in-hand, forgoing the car that’s parked in Tadashi’s driveway and making the quick commute back to Kei’s on foot. The fresh air is nice and you’re almost positive that if you were to sit down, even just in the front seat of a car, you wouldn’t be able to get up. 

“I can’t believe it,” you say, “how has fucking you both ruined and begun to repair my relationship with Tadashi?”

“I’m just that good,” Kei scoffs, shrugging as if it were obvious. You push your shoulder into him, letting him lose his balance and regain it all by himself. You squint your eyes at him. He laughs before correcting himself, “I think he just didn’t know that sex could be that good, just like you didn’t.”

You’re about to take his answer as it is, let it slide and continue on with your conversation. It makes sense to you, especially having grown in the same way Tadashi had, albeit more so, but this was his first time.  His response is enough to make you feel content, but he continues, for himself or for you or for Tadashi, you’re not sure. “Tadashi’s never been good at being honest with himself, at knowing what he wants, let alone voicing those wants to other people when he finally figures them out, and that’s fine bu...” Kei pauses, letting you hang onto every word of his observant explanation, “that just means without someone there to help… without us there to help,” he corrects himself, “sex is going to be really shitty.”

You hum. You thought that you were happy with the answer before, but this one sits with you so much better, and yet, even with his mention of you both helping him, your question still comes out not nearly as confident as you need it to be. “Were you serious about fucking him again or did you just say that to make him come?” you ask into the brisk air. 

“I was serious,” he answers quickly, “Have I ever said anything to you just to make you come?”

You shake your head in response, swinging your arms together as you come to conclusions, make connections in the silence between the two of you. “So, do you think we could do it again?” you ask, “But a little different next time.”

“Different how?” Kei questions, and you tell him. Maybe you’re a bit too excited, but as soon as you start talking, the ideas keep coming. They don’t stop, not as you step inside of your house or as you step into your bedroom or as you flop onto the bed or as you get under the covers. 

“Is that really what you want?” Kei asks when you’ve finally finished talking. 

You nod, not saying a word because you’ve talked a lot as it is and your throat is still sore. 

“Then, yes, I think he’d love that,” Kei agrees, pulling you deeper into him and mumbling a final thought into your hair, “And I would too.”

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the final climax of the delinquent!yamaguchi fic has arrived. what a perfect time to catch up on all of the drama! 

haikyuu movie during pride month….gays win

Love struck with a smile