The Thing About Fanfic Is That, If You Really Pay Attention To It, It Expands Into So Many Other Inerests.

tsukkiyamayachi

12/07/24

star fever 🌙💫⭐

NOTE: apparently the only tsukki i can paint is a pining one

Population of Two

i am once again thinking about how chapter 297 is titled Master and Student and is focused on how Kuroo has been a mentor to Tsukki in regards to his blocking skills

and then the chapter ends with tsukki acknowledging that he knows kuroo is better than him and that he never had expectations of beating him on his own

only to then perfectly transition into chapter 298 titled Guide (!!!) where yamaguchi is subbing in to serve.

(god i have so much to say about this, it was genuinely difficult not to just paste the entirety of 298 when i quoted panels)

i mean, these next two panels make me crazy. the first one (on the right) is the last panel in 297 and it's the first time we've seen yamaguchi in the whole chapter and furudate has set it up so that it's right when tsukki says that he couldn't do this alone!! and THEN the panel on the left is from the second page of 298 right after kuroo says that while tsukki may not be trying to win on his own, yamaguchi sure looks like he's determined enough to do it—and not only does tsukki agree that yamaguchi probably is thinking of taking them down with his serve, but by saying the "he's always one step ahead of me after all" line he's also admitting that this is a quality of yamaguchi's that he admires and is likely inspired by!!! and THEN in the bottom left of that panel (which is where the eye usually goes last in the way the panels are laid out) we get the chapter title drop to emphasize that yamaguchi is indeed guiding tsukki (despite the implications from the series up til now that yamaguchi is seen as being in tsukki's shadow )

the rest of 298 goes on to essentially beat us over the head with all the ways in which tsukki has come to see yamaguchi as being that guide to him. and the way furudate achieves this is so so well done

in contrast to 297, Master and Student, in 298 furudate doesn't explicitly tell us that yamaguchi is the guide—the title drop and tsukki's 'walks ahead of me line' that i just mentioned are the closest things—instead, in order to get the audience to feel (rather than just know) the importance of their development (together and as individuals), furudate shows it to us.

first, yamaguchi gets a service ace right off the bat (the first one of the match, even before kageyama got one), basically proving that he can beat all of nekoma in a way (which is a nice subtle callback to earlier scenes in the series about how serving is the only solo weapon in the game, the only time you can truly take down the other team on your own)

so this little bit is great for a few reasons, 1 it confirms that yamaguchi's hard work in extra practices/dedication to learn the serve in the first place, is still paying off, 2 it confirms that his confidence in being able to take points on his own is warranted and 3 it confirms that tsukki's confidence in yamaguchi's skill has not been misplaced.

the chapter continues by transitioning to show how yamaguchi's serve can still lead to points even when he doesn't get an ace, by showcasing his and tsukki's first perfect serve and block combo. it shows the way the two of them are wordlessly thinking in sync, how mentally connected they are,

and then it shows us how, even though they haven't practiced it directly with each other, they've both been working toward this moment for a long time (a quick panel of bokuto calling tsukki's blocks wussy, cutting to tsukki having a monster block that mirror's kuroo's from chapter 297, and then a beat later a quick panel of yamaguchi overhearing ukai say that other than an ace, a serve and block is the perfect/ideal play)

but then, for me, the real magic of this is that furudate doesn't emphasize those moments as the most meaningful ones that got them here. yes those were the moments that allowed them to consciously start practicing the physical skills that they needed to pull it off, but those panels are small and more for context, because what furudate does want to emphasize is what emotionally and mentally led them (especially tsukki) to be here. the things off the court and away from the game that still contributed here

furudate (again instead of just telling us) shows us the payoff of tsukki saying "he's always been one step ahead of me after all," shows us how tsukki came to think that in the first place. which furudate does by redrawing, recontextualizing, and reframing moments that we've already seen throughout the series, but this time framing them to clearly be from tsukishima's perspective

there's no dialogue between the two of them in the whole chapter, and no narration in these few pages, just the new redrawn panels that show how tsukki has been aware this whole time of how where yamaguchi started, how yamaguchi was the one looking up to him, and how he watched as yamaguchi passed him by.

the audience has seen these scenes before, but never from this lens—some were small, or inconsequential, or they were important but, they were one-off events—before they certainly didn't seem connected. and now, we feel the moments again as tsukki feels them, remembers them; it puts us directly into his head, and imo, it makes the ending of the chapter hit even harder

because we've just felt the triumph that tsukki and yamaguchi felt in succeeding in that play, and on the court in the story kuroo too could see tsukki enjoying himself and he (teasingly) asks him how he's been liking volleyball lately

and this is it. this is the culmination of tsukki's character arc right here.

yes, his stuff block against ushijima was the moment that hooked him, but imo this takes it even a step further. (the moment in the shiratorizawa match was about his skill—his blocking abilities, his mental resolve to track the ball, to learn, trick, and bait the setter—and allowing himself to feel pride in his hard work despite years of telling himself that hard work didn't necessitate results)

but here, now, tsukki makes a point to emphasize that it's because of everyone that he finally has fun playing volleyball. chapter 297 talked about the importance of tsukki physically learning to be a better blocker from kuroo, and 298 showed us how he was inspired by yamaguchi's dedication to better emotionally/mentally commit to the game. and both chapters come together here and circle back around to one of haikyuu's biggest themes: connection, and connection as a form of love.

if yamaguchi hadn't told tsukki he was being lame at the tokyo training camp, tsukki wouldn't have gone to ask bokuto what he liked about volleyball, he wouldn't have asked kuroo for blocking tips, he wouldn't have had the skill to stuff ushijima, or to pull of the serve and block here with yamaguchi. and he wouldn't have had the inspiration to even try to care to do any of that in the first place. because for tsukki, it was never really about the skills. it was about not understanding why he should care to learn those skills in the first place.

kuroo taught him what to do, bokuto told him how it could happen and yamaguchi showed him why it was worth striving for at all. without those friendships, without those connections, tsukishima would have never found this happiness, this self worth. he may not have been able to truly reconnect with his brother.

without everyone, he wouldn't go on to play professional volleyball for a div. 2 team.

this still volleyball. all plays are connected.

and furudate put us right into the moment to let us feel it alongside him. across the net, through the page, we connect too

i see a lot of mild angst fics about yamaguchi getting fed up with / upset with tsukki because he feels like his affection isnt reciprocated or like tsukki doesnt express his affection enough BUT i'd like to suggest that not everyone requires constant gushy affection to know / think they are loved and yamaguchi in all his sweetheartedness is actually incredibly independant and one of his favourite things about tsukishima is that if he doesnt text him for two days he has zero concern and takes no offence. additionally, yamaguchi is not super interested in drawing attention to himself and LOVES that tsukki does not require him to verbalize his affection very often because he finds it embarassing.

"yamaguchi aren't you upset at all that tsukki proposed to you in such a lame and uninspired way? literally just at home, not even a fancy date?"

yamaguchi, who had an anxiety attack the last time he had to ask a waiter to correct his order: "I think if tsukki had tried to propose in public I would have killed myself."

captain and vice captain

everything he's ever wanted

part of my cheater cheater collab

♡ atsumu x freader ~ 6300 words

♡ nsfw - MINORS DNI!!

♡ tw: dark content!! dubcon/noncon, intoxication, cheating, manipulation, cum eating, crying

♡ basically u think ur fucking osamu bc ur so drunk and atsumu takes adv of tht

a playlist i made to go along with the manipulation vibes

♡ the party had simultaneously gone by so quickly and dragged on so long even though you were the one that brought it up in the first place and convinced your boyfriend, osamu, to take you and atsumu to tag along

♡ but your concept of time was out the window along with your balance and partying mood

♡ and you were drunk, so drunk, hadn't been out in so long and were trying to make up for it for some stupid reason, and your feet were killing you and you wanted to go home, but osamu was having so much fun so you tried to wait it out

♡ osamu could see you weren't having fun and as the caring, loving boyfriend he is, was going to cut his night short and take you home, because you were much more important than staying out for a few more hours

♡ "baby, i'm taking you home. you're tired and very drunk and i've got you, okay?"

♡ it takes a bit of time, and several attempts to turn him down, but osamu eventually agrees. atsumu is, after all, the one single person that he would ever trust to get you home safely and put you to bed without having to worry so avidly that he wouldn't enjoy the night anyway

♡ it takes a bit of time, and several attempts to turn him down, but osamu eventually agrees. atsumu is, after all, the one single person that he would ever trust to get you home safely and put you to bed without having to worry so avidly that he wouldn't enjoy the night anyway

♡ osamu kisses you quickly and says something you don't quite catch, but the room is spinning so you don't stick around to ask for clarification. you just want some fresh air.

♡ you're walking home, swaying from side to side, hopping over the small cracks in the sidewalk with atsumu's hand hovering over your arm just in case you lose balance completely

♡ he doesn't want to cross any lines, push through any barriers for both you and osamu. it doesn't matter how infatuated or obsessed atsumu is with you or how much he thinks about you, his brother's unobtainable, but incredibly gorgeous girlfriend, atsumu would never betray his brother, not like this.

♡ but his fingers skim over your arm and you don't move an inch, don't even acknowledge that he's there. his touch flows, so soft that it's tickling the pads of his fingers, and the flat of his hand is resting on your lower back.

♡ you're so out of it that you don't notice or you don't care or you just don't mention it, but... you're not saying anything, so it can't be crossing any line then, right? at least, not ones important enough for you to remember when you're inebriated.

♡ the hand on your lower back becomes stronger, more assertive, more confident in it's placement and in return, you're more lovey, moulding to the warmth and then leaning, on purpose or otherwise, into atsumu's shoulder with a delighted hum.

♡ "mmm, samu, thank you for walking me home, can't wait to get in bed with youuu" ~~

♡ hearing his brother's name come out of your mouth in reference to him makes atsumu recoil, cringing so viscerally that he almost immediately reprimands you, but the correction doesn't dare fall off his tongue.

♡ he couldn't force it if he tried, because you reach up, arm stretching to cusp his face in your hands, so soft against his jaw, and he loses every single train of thought he had.

♡ but that's not enough, because you turn your head and place a kiss wherever your lips land, not wanting to strain yourself. your lips purse against the base of atsumu's neck and they linger, but are gone too soon regardless.

♡ you're giggling because you're warm and your boyfriend is walking you home and you're drunk and happy and what's there not to be smiling and laughing about? you are a perfect state of absolute bliss with a syrupy sweet adoration that atsumu has to pretend is actually for him and he can't help himself-

♡ the instant that you stop walking, both feet planted on the ground for no reason other than the fact that you didn't want to take another step, atsumu kisses you. he takes your face in his hands, lifts your view towards him, looks you directly in the eyes just in case something'll click, and then he kissed you, hard and breathlessly, because he's always wanted to.

♡ god, it would have been so much easier if you just recognized. if you recognized it was the wrong twin in that moment, the rest of the night would have been so much easier.

♡ but you don't recognize him, not when he touches you or looks at you or kisses you. you kiss back, no hesitation in the way you match his intensity, murmuring osamu's name against his lips and, fuck, he's going to have fun tonight.

♡ because you keep calling him osamu the entire walk home, laughing and not registering when an answer comes back that feels a bit more cocky than you're used to, but it's fine. it has to be fine because he's about to get everything he's ever wanted.

♡ when you walk through the door, kicking your shoes off right in the middle of the entrance so that atsumu has to step over top of them, you’re already whining about wanting to be in bed, not straying far enough to be out of atsumu's sight, but enough to coerce him along

♡ you push through the door into your's and osamu's shared bedroom, stepping through the threshold like it's nothing, because it is nothing. this is your room, your private place of residence. you enter easily and without a second thought, and you expect him to do the same.

♡ but this wasn't atsumu's room. he had only been inside on a handful of occasions, frequently spending time in other rooms of the house, but never having a reason to be in your personal space.

♡ atsumu's thankful that you're drunk for many reasons and one of them is the fact that you won't notice the small amount of hesitance that runs through his mind as he steps past the doorframe.

♡ and you don't notice, much too busy with the shirt that's too much work to lift over your head and the pants that are much too tight, buttoned too neatly for your current lack of dexterity

♡ "want this off, samu, help."

♡ this time, atsumu doesn't hesitate, stepping forward in 2 large strides to meet you at the edge of the bed. he takes his time despite how whiny you are to get the articles off of you, but your fussy discomfort can wait.

♡ he wants to revel in it, the fickle impatience you're experiencing and how it makes your eyebrows knit together in the middle of your face and your bottom lip jut out. he leans down, pressing a kiss against it, because he can, and because your pout dissolves momentarily as you giggle at the contact

♡ atsumu's fingers skim against your stomach, migrating back and forth between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your pants. so many options laid out in front of him and all he has to do is choose.

♡ when you murmur out osamu's name, egging him to move on, he listens, lifting up your shirt, palms sculpting to your sides as he pushes up the fabric.

♡ once he catches sight of your perfect skin, exposed only for him, he starts to lose himself, much too urgent to teasingly strip you. your shirt’s in a heap on the floor and his fingers are fumbling with the clasps to your bra, impatient in his own endeavor to see your perfect body

♡ “need help with this too, baby?” he asks, but it’s already undone, straps sliding down your arms with atsumu’s guiding push.

♡ he bends down, forehead against your shoulder, nose nuzzled right into you, inhaling your scent so deeply that it almost makes him dizzy. your perfume has worn off, subtle hints lingering, but ultimately the only thing he can smell is you.

♡ if it weren’t for his overwhelming need to kiss you, to gawk at you, to taste you, to feel you, he could sit right here, pressed against your skin, breathing you deep for the rest of his life. he can feel the blood rushing from his head, cock growing harder in his jeans as he inhales you

♡ lips press wherever he can reach, licking his lips between each one so you can feel the cool air where his lips used to be whenever he reluctantly pulls away.

♡ wet marks trail down your body, caress roaming briskly so he feel more of you, as much as he can get his hands on, he can't stop, you feel just like he's imagined

♡ he lowers to the ground, lips dragging against your stomach until he's eye-level with your waist. the button's much easier for him to undo, no difficulty unfastening and tugging down your pants for you to step out of them.

♡ your panties are so tight, taut against your puffy lips, a tiny dark spot drawing him in like a man dying of thirst.

♡ fuck, he needs to taste you. he knows that there's an unofficial timer counting down in his head, one that runs out with his brother coming home and all of his dreams coming to an end, but he has to get between your legs, shove his face so deep in your cunt that he'll be tasting it forever

♡ "pretty girl, lay down, let me take care of ya, okay?"

♡ you don't object, but he's not sure that with the state you're in right now, you completely understand the implications of that sentence. your movements don't have nearly as much control as they normally do, back falling against the bed almost instantaneously with your hips.

♡ he wants to continue to take his time with you, but he's getting restless, skin crawling with an overwhelming need, stomach empty, hungry for you and only you. he rolls your panties down your thighs, calves, throws them to the side, and, in a moment, nudges your legs apart

♡ his arms snake beneath the undersides of your knees, hands clasping together under your lower back. he pulls you close, leans in closer, salivating because your folds are glistening. if he didn't have such a hold on you, he'd drag a single digit between them just to test the waters

♡ he'll just have to use his tongue instead

♡ the second his tongue dips into your heat, there's no going back. whatever ounce of reluctance that was buried deep inside has evaporated, gone with all self-control.

♡ it's all teeth and tongue, lips, nose, and chin, any bit of his face that he can rub against your slippery cunt. he can't breathe, too excited, too smothered. he'd rather die than give this up for a second.

♡ you're startled at first, confusion leaving your lips, evident on your face if he looked up for a quarter of a second, but he couldn't, he doesn't, stays buried between your legs, surrounded by you, thighs pressed against his ears so when you tell him...

♡ "stop for second, samu, wait, what? baby, hold on, what's happenin?"

♡ he can't hear a thing, not that he would've stopped if he'd heard you crystal clear.

♡ you taste just as sweet as he thought, maybe even sweeter, hints of salt and thicker than he imagined, swallowing whatever was too much for his mouth. you coat his tongue, prodding at your hole because every time he does, you gush for him even more.

♡ when you give in, not quite understanding, but knowing that warmth is spreading to every inch of your skin and your throat is getting dry, your body relaxes, melts into the bed, hands parting his natural roots. you're far too lethargic to fight it anyway, so you might as well enjoy it.

♡ atsumu could stay here forever, gracious and happy as he sloppily worked his tongue between your lips. if he wasn't so pussy-drunk, he'd be more meticulous, care more about the shape of his tongue and the placement, but he's so hard, cock straining against the insides of his jeans, and his tongue feels so good flicking over and jabbing into your hole, but he needs to be inside you.

♡ he pulls away, watching a thin string connect his lips to yours, cock throbbing at the thought of being surrounded by it, and he whimpers, unapologetically because you won't remember it in the morning and he's been waiting so fucking long to take you

♡ "samu, you came home early for me, lemme repay you, know you love it, baby."

♡ you sit up and before he knows it, you're already crawling towards him, hands out towards his belt, innocent pleas in your eyes that he couldn't deny even if the plea wasn't for something he's fisted his cock to on many occasions.

♡ atsumu places his hands over yours, helping you along as you try to undo his belt and button. you're fumbling even with his guidance, rushing to get it off as you scooch closer and closer with each passing second.

♡ you don't waste any time once his cock is released from it's confines, breath hitching for a moment as you sit back into your heels and just look at him. it makes atsumu's heart flutter in a way that it shouldn't, the admiration in your eyes as you look up at him.

♡ your mind is racing, not all there, and you don't remember osamu's cock perfectly, but this feels different in a way. it feels different against your palm, longer and thicker, slightly more curved, purplish head with precome beading at the slit. you have to open your mouth wider, you think, maybe, jaw aching as you take him into your mouth.

♡ oh my god, your mouth is so warm, hot wrapped around his length, head immediately bobbing so fast that he has no idea how you’re not dizzy. you don't give him any time to think or react, your fingers digging into his thighs, pushing down his jeans further as he slides down your throat deeper

♡ you're choking, gagging on his length, eyes screwed shut, throat sore, speed slowing, but that won't do. his cock sliding against your tongue, mouth so wet and warm, lips tight like a perfect little hole, he can't get enough.

♡ it felt good when you were in control, but when he grabs a fistful of your hair, it gets so much better. he's setting the pace now, no regard for the spit he's fucking out of your mouth or his balls slapping against your chin, just enjoying how willingly your throat accepts every inch.

♡ your nails are digging into his thighs, arms weak, but trying, as they push against him, protests garbled because your mouth is so full. he can't understand you, so he keeps fucking your throat harder, harder, harder, harder until his grip on your head is shaking

♡ it takes you far too long to feel okay again, out of breath, coughing to regain composure and to get more air in your lungs and because there's finally nothing in your throat, blinking away tear after fat tear, wiping them with the backs of your hands.

♡ "samu, fuck, baby, that hurt a lot."

♡ your tone is hoarse, eyes evading from shyness or fear, it didn't really matter. he was moving you in the midst of it all, positioning you on your back again, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist, but they keep sliding so he places them on his shoulders.

♡ and it should be a warning sign, a cautionary tale, something to deter him from going too far again, but fuck, if you don't look so pretty trying to feel better. fuck, if it doesn't make his cock twitch when you sniffle from the tears. fuck, if he wouldn't be lying if he said your voice didn't sound even sweeter just like this.

♡ "sorry, doll, just felt too good."

♡ he can hear how disingenuous it sounds, just the apology, not the rest, but you don't catch it. you nod along, no verbal acceptance, nothing to tell him it's okay, but humming anyway.

♡ but he doesn't wait for a reply or an okay to move on from what had just happened, it doesn't even enter his mind as a possibility. he's so close. if he pressed his hips forward the tiniest bit, he could feel you. his cock won't stop leaking, dripping precome against the sheets, going to waste.

♡ so he rests his cock between your legs, rubbing against you slowly, just feeling the drag of your skin against his, leaking onto your stomach.

♡ his head slips between your lips, no hand to guide it, moving with gravity and the push of his hips. when he feels the warmth, the wetness coating his spongy head, his hips buck on instinct, rutting again in an attempt to replicate the feeling again

♡ he rubs the tip between your folds, hips canting forwards to feel even more of you, exhaling all of the air out of his lungs when you envelope the head

♡ youre so wet, so fucking wet, pussy drooling onto the sheets below you, and atsumu is staring in awe, swallowing thickly at how involuntary your need is for him

♡ “want me fuck this slutty pussy, dontcha?”

♡ he mumbles it under his breath, not giving you even a moment to think about it before sinking into you, burning hot walls choking his cock almost immediately

♡ he had only used his tongue, hadn’t stuck a single finger inside you to prepare your tight hole for his girth. he didn’t let you adjust either, slid right inside you, pulling you onto him and pressing his hips to meet you until they were flush against your thighs

♡ he wasn’t regretting it. not even as the size took your breath away or the subtle protests left your throat, wasn’t pulling out or slowing down, either, only offered an unapologetic apology as he kept a steady pace

♡ “baby, samu, canyou slow down m please, cant take it, hurts.”

♡ “sorry, pretty, i know, sorry.”

♡ he couldn’t regret it, not when your fleshy walls hugged his cock so tight, squeezed every inch, arousal slicking him with every thrust, the most lewd noises bouncing off the walls right back to his ears only encouraging him to fuck into you harder

♡ once you get used to it, the pain of the stretch subsiding, you won’t stop squirming, moving, whimpering and moaning with every drive of his hips, muttering words too incoherently to make out

♡ you look so cute beneath him. your hair is a mess, head pressed so far into the mattress, unable to stay still as atsumu fucks you harder. you’re not looking at him, can’t focus on one thing for too long, but he can’t stop looking at you

♡ he couldnt if he tried, eyes glued to you as you convulse, clenching around him, walls fluttering as you cum from penetration alone

♡ and, well, atsumu's obviously better for you anyway, right? because you're fucked out beneath him, recovering from your orgasm, already being driven to another one, eyes rolled back so far that you can feel the strain, tears streaming down your cheeks, sobbing so pretty, begging him for more

♡ "please, please, please, it's so good, more please, feels so good, samu, fuck, oh my god, please don't stop, baby, please."

♡ you won't stop asking for more, praising his every motion, slurring gratitudes, and sobbing out osamu's name, telling him that he's never fucked you this good before, because he hasn't

♡ osamu has never fucked you this good before, with such urgency and desperation. atsumu's fucking you as if this is the last time he'll ever get to, because it will be. he's savoring it, committing to memory how your gummy walls massage his length, how perfectly tight your hole is, how eagerly you're sucking him.

♡ your hole is so snug around his fat cock, it feels like he has to force his way inside with every slam of his hips, like he’s splitting you open, your cunt molding around every vein, every curve, clenching around every throb.

♡ it's like you were made for him.

♡ you were made for him.

♡ you were made for h i m.

♡ he knows from praises tumbling from your lips that he’s pleasing you in ways that osamu just isn’t capable of, that’s not atsumu’s fault. every single one of your reactions is pushing him further, harder.

♡ on your walk back, he had some sort of resolve, could separate his wants from reality, from what could actually happen, but now the line was blurred. no, not blurred, it was completely gone. he was getting exactly what he wanted, he could have whatever he wanted, nothing to stop him, nothing to hold him back

♡ and you just kept solidifying it in his mind, kept proving him right time and time again with your noises and your involuntary jerks, how you would cum around his cock without even announcing it, so absolutely wrecked that it wasn’t even a thought in your mind

♡ he slinks deeper and deeper into this power-hungry state, never wanting the feeling to stop, your orgasms a necessity for him, for his pleasure. his regret and remorse are slipping through a shallow grip that he has no intent on retaking, justifications as useless as your warnings of discomfort

♡ it’s not enough. not enough. need more. he needs more. needs it harder. has one arm wrapped around your thighs, tight together against his chest, one digging into your hip, slamming his cock inside of you.

♡ he’s savored it for too long. it’s burned into his mind, the way your folds part for his head, the image of your hole sucking him in as he pulled back on repeat every time he closed his eyes. he didn’t need to savor it any longer. he needed everything you were capable of giving and more.

♡ the uncomfortable groans turn to winces. the winces turn to soft mutters of osamu’s name. the soft mutters turn to audible wait, wait… waits. the waits turn to stops followed by pleases. your hands are on him, no strength behind your pushes as you try to ground yourself

♡ “wait, stop, please, it’s too much, fuck, it hurts, stop for a second, please.”

♡ but it’s okay. it’s fine. ♡ who cares?

♡ atsumu doesn’t have to worry about that. atsumu doesn’t have to listen to you. atsumu doesn’t care. because… why would he?

♡ atsumu isn’t fucking you so relentlessly, so deep that the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix, pain shooting through your lower body, spreading through your chest, eyes closing harshly so tears don’t come spilling, breath taken from your lungs.

♡ atsumu isn’t choking you so brutally that your fingernails are drawing blood from his wrists, grip like it’s life or death as you claw at whatever part of his arm you can reach. each thrust somehow cutting off even more of your airway

♡ atsumu isn’t throwing you around the bed, manhandling and forcing you into positions so violently that in your drunken, wobbly state, you fall off the bed, crashing and colliding with the floor. the humiliation almost worse than the pain.

♡ atsumu isn’t the one that gets onto the floor, onto his knees, and lifts your lower half up to him, ass against his thighs as he slides back into you, fucking you mercilessly, subtle burns forming on your back from the rough carpet.

♡ atsumu isn’t muttering praises, your name, whatever actually comes to his mind as you grip onto him continually, orgasms like rolling waves, growing in intensity and subsiding, but never truly leaving.

♡ you’re sobbing, snot and tears and spit sloppy all over your face, quiet attempts to stop him still spilling despite his active ignorance. and it should turn him off, but it makes it so much better, so much more real, the effects he has on you.

♡ and it pushes him over the edge, your strangled, weak pleas and contrasting bodily reactions, and just how perfectly made for him you are.

♡ “gonna cum, pretty girl, gonna cum, doll, deep inside ya, pretty.”

♡ it’s not a request, but you seem to think it is, eyes blown wide for the first time tonight, panic instantly taking over your features, your limbs.

♡ “no. don’t. please, i can’t- i’m not- you can’t. don’t. please, samu, don’t. seriously.”

♡ he almost wishes that you didn’t protest, not because he needs you to want it, but for your sake. it’s so easy, so much more satisfying to press his hips against your flesh, balls twitching against your ass as he unloads deep inside you, cock pulsing so powerfully that you can feel each one, can match it to each thick rope that paints you

♡ you want it to stop. you wait for it to stop. every stream feels like it’s the last one, like any more would spill out of your hole, no matter how tightly clenched it was around him. it doesn’t spill out, atsumu makes sure of that. and it’s not the last one, there’s still more, so much you can taste it, so much that you’re not sure how it’s all stuffed inside of you.

♡ “perfect, so perfect for me, baby, just for me, all mine, marked ya so yer all mine.”

♡ he’s half-tempted to leave it inside of you, let it drip out through the night, stain your sheets dark with his cum, and let you find it in the morning when you stand up and feel it drool onto your thigh.

♡ but he can’t do that. he knows that he can’t, pulls out slowly, chest heaving as he reaches down, two fingers to catch whatever milky seed drips out of you, pushing it back into your gaping hole, fluttering so tenuously from being so empty.

♡ he rubs the thick, sticky substance over your puffy, red lips, over your swollen, sensitive clit, and you’re crying again, trying so hard to squeeze your legs together without squeezing the rest of the cum out of your ruined cunt

♡ “yer so messy, baby”

♡ he couldn’t keep it inside you, he would’ve missed this pretty fucking sight.

♡ and he couldn’t keep it inside you, because osamu would never do that. and the person fucking you right now isn’t atsumu. the person who came so fucking deep inside of you isn’t atsumu.

♡ it’s osamu.

♡ osamu is the name falling from your lips and osamu is, in your mind, the person who is fucking you so rough that your orgasms are coming, repeatedly, constantly, from force, not enjoyment, the person who, against your very verbal and phsyical nonconsent, came inside of you.

♡ but you won’t remember in the morning how horrible “your boyfriend” was to you, anyway, no. you’ll wake up with some bruises from the fall, a soreness in the depths of your throat, some burns you’ll never be able to find, and a foggy recollection that… that.. someone?? something happened last night, but the details will be sparse

♡ the details will be so sparse and the memory will be a grain of sand compared to the mountain that is the actuality of the situation. you probably won’t remember this moment, despite the time that’s ticked by and how badly he wishes that you will.

♡ he doesn’t harp on it for too long, is too busy soaking in the aftermath that he’s created.

♡ fuck, you look so perfect with his cum pouring out of you that it pains him to clean it, hesitantly diving his fingers into you so he can coax the mess out. eyes fixated on how empty you’re starting to look as more and more leaks out of you and he refuses to let it go to waste

♡ he coats his fingers with it, scoops as much as he can with his fingertips and places them against your lips.

♡ “open. don’t waste it.”

♡ it’s not as sweet as the rest of his words, but you don’t seem to notice, parting your lips slowly as he slips his digits between them, cum glossy on your lips and dribbling down your chin. he’s fast to catch the mess, shoving his fingers down your throat as soon as he wipes it away

♡ he doesn’t stop until his fingers come out clean, the only thing left a thin sheen of slick and cum against your thighs that he kisses away

♡ he hopes that if nothing else you remember his cum against your tongue, the texture and the slightly salty taste. he hopes it lingers until the morning when you’re sober and aware and that a heaviness sits in your stomach that you can’t quite place.

♡ you’ve gone silent now, no longer pleading for him to stop or asking questions, lips a quivering line as he helps you into bed. his touch is ghostly now, so soft that you can barely feel it in comparison to his previously painful hold.

♡ he dresses you in one of osamu’s shirts, carefully rolling the fabric over your sensitive skin. and then he tucks you in, pulling the blanket up to your chest, pushing the hair out of your face, wiping your sweaty forehead, and he kisses you.

♡ leans down and presses his lips onto yours, hands clasping together on the base of your head to bring you deeper to offset your flinch, savoring the last of his moments with you, and then pulling away.

♡ he says it from the doorframe, hand hovering over the light switch

♡ “goodnight, yn, i love you.”

♡ and then he leaves, shutting off the light and closing the door leaving you all alone

♡ in the morning, you’ll wake up next to a passed out osamu who was also disgustingly drunk and atsumu will knock on the door lightly because he can’t not have a control on the the first conversation hat you and osamu have

♡ because osamu is smart and you’re smart and you’ll both connect the dots

♡ so atsumu knocks on the door and you shuffle to the door and he motions into the kitchen, and this is where he sees how good your memory actually is, waiting with hitched breath to see if you object and slam the door on him

♡ but you don’t. you follow, still a bit dazed and groggy, but dragging your feet against the floor as you make your way into the kitchen a few steps behind him. he’s already made you breakfast, is brewing you a cup of coffee and you don’t look apprehensive, you look elated

♡ the conversation at the table is small, you’re mostly focused on eating and he’s mostly focused on trying not to think too hard about last night.

♡ did you taste him when you woke up?

♡ osamu eventually makes his way into the kitchen as well and you are all over him, dumbly soft hanging onto his shoulders, leaning your body weight against him and atsumu is gazing at your body, slowly undressing you in his head, relishing in the picture he’s painting himself because you’re too in love to notice

♡ and you’re breathy moans are filling his head along with the plush fat of your thighs in his hands and the sting of his hips from pounding into you too hard and he’s trying, but not hard enough, to not get hard at breakfast

♡ yours and osamu’s conversation is a back and forth of recollections of the previous night, smiles and gratitudes and “did you have fun?”s and atsumu’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

♡ then it does.

♡ “god, samu, baby, i’m so sore from last night. you were so rough with me, i mean- it was really fucking good, but i just feel it everywhere this morning.”

♡ osamu goes to answers, narrows his eyes and titles his head and wracks his brain for the memory of fucking you. he was really drunk last night… did he? when he got home? no… right?

♡ atsumu sees the wheels turning in his head and cuts it off before it can progress any further.

♡ “no, i took ya home last night. got ya in bed safe and sound. well, i mean, ya did fall off the bed because ya didn’t want to go to sleep and were tryin to get up and tripped over yer blankets, but no, ya got home and went straight to bed.”

♡ “i don’t know, maybe some weird dream?? or?? i don’t know. i’m not sure what happened after osamu got home.”

♡ but, god, fuck, he knows. of course, he knows. he’s been thinking about it all morning. he’s thinking about it right now. he’s remembering you around him, you screaming out for him, you fucked out beneath him, and he’s trying to hide how much it’s effecting him under the table.

♡ he’s remembering every single detail that you can’t fucking remember, running through his head like he video tapped the entire thing (and now he’s cursing himself for not filming the entire thing)

♡ maybe next time.

♡ there has to be a next time.

♡ he couldn’t live with the thought of never being able to fuck you again.

♡ he has to excuse himself, muttering some excuse about feeling dirty after being in the club all last night, and it’s somewhat true, but not really the reason he needed to leave, why he needed to sneak off to the shower

♡ he can’t get you out of his head, how could he. and he’s so fucking hard, throbbing against his thin shorts, palming himself through his boxers as he waits for the water to heat up.

♡ fisting his cock as the hot water drips down his body, steam filling his lungs with every quick inhale as he tries to replicate how snug your cunt was, thinking, coming up with any scenario in his head to fuck you again.

♡ he has to have you again, whatever it takes.

♡ it doesn’t matter if he has to get you drunk again, drug you, fuck you while you’re sleeping, it doesn’t matter how unwilling or how incoherent you were, he was going to be inside of you again.

//

♡ except..

♡ except…. being drunk again implies that you were drunk in the first place

♡ but you hadn’t had a drink for hours before atsumu had taken you home. you had dumped your drinks or swapped them for water or forget them on barstools and tables. you hadn’t drank for hours, but no one knew that. only you knew that.

♡ because you watched atsumu watch you all night, sure, but more than that, you’ve watched atsumu watch you for years. you’ve seen him stare at osamu with an envy so familiar that it hurt and you’ve seen him stick around with you in situation he normally wouldn’t just to walk close to you

♡ but you had osamu and you loved osamu and would never cheat on osamu, but if you could create a scenario… well, maybe you wouldn’t have to be the bad guy.

♡ maybe you would commit osamu’s name to memory, staring at his brother with that stupid fucking smirk on his face. they were twins, yes, but they didn’t look the same, no, not when you really looked.

♡ atsumu always looked smug, like he was hiding a secret from the world that no one else was good enough to share it with, and he always looked happy, like his life was so incredible that he didn’t have any choice in the matter, and atsumu looked like he could destroy you without even trying.

♡ and maybe you would bat your eyes at atsumu like you always did at osamu so that he couldn’t tell the difference and you would hang off of him your entire walk home so that he knew you were depending on him

♡ you didn’t know at the time that you had bitten off a bit more than you could chew, but that didn’t matter, because you were living out an all too familiar fantasy in your head

♡ if your plan was to let atsumu get exactly what he wanted while you got exactly what you wanted, then, is that so bad? and, well, if osamu ever found out.. well.. you were the victim.. you were so drunk

♡ “samu, i- i thought it was you, baby… i didn’t know.. he was.. he was so rough, i should’ve known you would never treat me like that, but i didn’t… i was so.. he..”

♡ if osamu found out, he would never blame you.

♡ he’d know that it’s not your fault. it wasn’t your fault that you had been taken advantage of so horribly by someone you and him both trusted so much.

♡ that’s… that’s not cheating ♡

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Thinking "tsukishima telling yamaguchi to shut up constantly is mean" is okay but thinking "yamaguchi has no social awareness whatsoever and will scream and talk your ear off if tsukishima doesn't remind him to let others talk" is better