Latest Posts by driftwoodsun - Page 9

queer is literally a slur. like you’ve never been called that in a derogatory context like most lgbt people? you think your experiences escaping homophobia make it okay to justify the use of a homophobic slur?

queer is an identity.

it has also been used as a slur. there is no denying that. but using a word as a slur does not make it a slur. because before queer is a slur it is an identity. before it is derogatory it is a label. the use of queer as an identity is infinitely more important than the use of queer as a slur because the people who identify as queer are infinitely more important than the people who use queer as a slur.

say a lot of people decided they hated me. despised me. were disgusted by me to the point where my own name became a slur. would you tell me not to say it? would you tell me i could no longer be helena, and instead must come up with a euphemism for the name that belonged to me decades before it belonged in the mouths of bigots?

because that would make you an enabler.

you would tell me i can’t say my name anymore because some lowlife decided he could use it to insult me?

you would tell a gay man that he can’t be gay anymore because some teens in the early 2000’s started calling everything they didn’t like “gay”, and now he has to say “same sex oriented male identifying individual”?

does that enrage you? because it should. that’s exactly how you sound.

you are telling me i cannot use my label. you are telling me that when my great-uncle shouted until his face was red and he spat tobacco and the word queer at my feet, he was right. he was right to insult me, and i was wrong to say my name.

you are shitting on every single one of our predecessors. you are slandering every person who fought for their rights to exist and and be tolerated and be celebrated in their countries, every person who was lost to the aids epidemic, every person whose country criminalizes love and gender expression, every child whose parents abandoned them for straying from the norm, every person who was born and will die in the closet longing to be themselves. the queer umbrella is a safety net, a security blanket, the comfort of being known without being pressured to tell. it is near and dear and important as fuck to every member of the lgbt+ community and you are a blight upon the earth you walk.

how dare you speak upon my experiences with homophobia. how dare you disguise your own homophobia as activism. and how fucking dare you have the audacity to come to my blog and hide behind an anonymous ask and preach to me about how i’m oppressing myself. go look at the fucking wikipedia page for queer and read about how 1980s lgbt+ activists, especially lgbt+ people of color, fought to call themselves queer in a world that still hates peculiar things. and here you are forty years later spitting queer back at their feet.

i don’t give a fuck if people start using my name as a slur. my name is still helena. i will not change it. i chose it, i like it, and it belongs to me. it does not belong to bigots no matter how badly they want it. your discomfort with my identity is not my fucking problem.

i am helena. i am queer. die mad & go fuck yourself

Somewhere in my notes in the last few days I saw someone add some tags that I’ve been thinking about ever since. I wish I could find them again (or that I’d just saved their post at the time) because I think they made a lot of sense.

They were talking about how fanfic is becoming more and more mainstream while still remaining largely transgressive. It’s such an interesting dichotomy to think about!

On the one hand, you have sites like AO3 and realities like widespread high speed internet access being more and more accessible to larger and larger groups of people. This makes it incredibly easy for anyone at all to find and read fanfic.

On the other hand, you have the roots of fanfic. It was born out of marginalized groups such as women, people of colour, and members of the queer community deciding to take the stories that had been aimed at a largely male, white, heterosexual audience and inverting them into something they could enjoy and relate to. To this day, fanfic is a place where people write the kinds of stories that don’t get made into movies and TV shows. The kinds of stories that don’t get published or end up on the New York Times bestseller list.

Fanfic used to be written and shared in secret. People used to hide it. People still do hide the fact that they read or write it. But it’s becoming something that more and more people are becoming more and more aware of.

So now there’s a spotlight starting to shine on fanfic. People who aren’t looking for transgressive works are finding them where they always were. People who think the status quo is fine are getting upset when they enter a place where the status quo is constantly being upended.

The tags on that post that I can’t find made the point that popular media is curated and sanitized and stripped of most of its controversy in order to appeal to the widest possible audience. But that also makes that audience expect all media to be curated and sanitized in the same way. When they encounter the messy, controversial, ugly, radical, difficult things that people write in fanfic, they’re unprepared.

Fanfic isn’t big media. Fanfic authors aren’t being edited and filtered and polished - and nor are their works. The clash between the expectations of people new to fanfic and accustomed to popular media and the realities of what fanfic is and what it’s being written for - that’s part of this struggle that fandom is going through right now. It’s been going on since the beginning of course, but it’s getting louder every year.

I’m still thinking my way through this, but it really does make a lot of sense to me. If those were your tags, please let me know so I can credit you with the ideas at the core of this post.

And if you have any ideas for how we as fans can better introduce the newbies to the culture and expectations in fandom, I’d love to hear it. The better we can guide people into our space, the better they’ll fit in when they join it.

by All_the_Queer, Driftwoodsun

When Kei jokingly suggests that they go to Hinata’s Halloween party as a dog and his owner, he stumbles upon Tadashi’s most intense kink.

Kei gets more than he bargained for. Tadashi gets exactly what he bargained for.

Words: 11770, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Haikyuu!!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Underage

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi

Additional Tags: Halloween Costumes, Halloween, Pet Play, Puppy Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Dumbification, Sex Toys, Butt Plugs, Finger Sucking, Begging, Gags, Collars, Collars and leashes, Subspace, First Time, Resolved Sexual Tension, Fluff and Smut, Comfort, Tadashi drools and it’s a thing, Punishment, Shameless Halloween smut, Slight Dacryphilia, Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Leg Humping, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings

I feel this in my soul

Want some Yamagoooch? Here's a Yamaguchi art made by yours truly~ Enjoy!

Yamaguchi takes care of cold-ridden tsukki 🤧💓

I finished this little thing i started a bit ago and i couldve made it smoother but i did not want to 😅 NEVERTHELESS I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!! ☺

yamaguchi holding a funeral for tsukki................'s single status, he got his mans

Celebrating with some cake he found in the fridge

"put down the fanfiction, read a real book"

shut up, nerd

"stop looking at everything through a shipping lens"

im having fun, so no

its really that simple. idc if my literary tastes are too lowbrow for you im here to have fun.

and right now im having fun at the expense of you snobs

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Haikyuu!! Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tanaka Ryuunosuke Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Tsukishima Kei, Omega Yamaguchi Tadashi, Dubious Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Control, Edging, Mind Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, PWP, Pheromones, Possessive Tsukishima Kei, Jealous Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi is a Little Shit, Slut Shaming, Dom Tsukishima Kei, sub yamaguchi tadashi, POV Yamaguchi Tadashi, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Dom/sub, Humiliation, Verbal Humiliation, brat taming, Yamaguchi Tadashi is a Brat, Brat Tamer Tsukishima Kei, Overstimulation, Ruined Orgasms, Spanking, Bondage, Multiple Orgasms, Blow Jobs, Sex Toys, Vibrators, Dacryphilia, Objectification, Mindbreak, Scenting, MPreg (mentioned), Jealous Yamaguchi Tadashi, Mind Games, Dumbification, Possessive Yamaguchi Tadashi, Masturbation, Crying Yamaguchi Tadashi, fleshlight, Face-Fucking, Cock Warming, Naked Male Clothed Male, Collars, Aftercare, Altered Mental States, Pack Dynamics Summary:

Yamaguchi goes out of his way to make Tsukishima jealous.

Obviously, he gets more than he bargained for.

Last chapter of that horny, kinky a/b/o fic of mine is finally up.

thinkin about sucking yamaguchis pretty cock and balls until he’s crying and begging for me to let him finish <3

Fic writer aesthetic

- you just had a brilliant idea. it’s 3am - bonus: you have something important the next day - “wow I wrote so much, let’s see the word counter” 350 words “LIES” - when your worst work gets the most attention - “[AO3] You’ve got kudos!” emails are your lifeblood, water your crops, and clear your skin - B L A N K P A G E S O F D O O M - playing the entire story out in your head. never writing it - watching or reading anything ever and imagining an au - making playlists to write to. never writing - getting an “[AO3] Comment on ______” email and doing the thing. you know the one - headcanons. so many headcanons - spending days or weeks on a piece - watching the hit count rise and the kudos count stay on said work - when will the kudos return from war

TSUKKIYAMA WEEK DAY 6: Promise

Yamaguchi + D, T, V.

18+, mdni.

D= dirty secret

sweet, sweet yamaguchi. love's the feeling of overstimming himself. likes to see how far he can take it before he taps out. the way his toes curl into the carpet with each jerk of his cock, the way his body shudders as he fucks another load into his hand, the way he fights the pretty moans bubbling in his throat so his roommates don't hear...it all adds to the thrill, the pleasure of it all. he always blocks off half a day for these sessions because once he's finished, he sleeps for hours.

T= toys

owns toys but he's a lil shy about it. won't bring up the fact that he has a handful of different cock rings under his bed, or the fact that he's got a fleshlight or two in his closet, unless you ask.

V= volume

he's a whiner, lets out a long whine when he finally sinks his cock into you. typically not extremely loud, but he definitely can be. doesn't take much to make him loud, a little bit of dirty talk or a few quick pinches to his sensitive nipples usually does the trick.

I don’t want to be the only first year who has to sit out

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 ♡

♡ leave a tip ! ♡ ♡ reblogs & likes appreciated ♡

𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 5613 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ~ // nsfw (minors dni!!), lil angsty, f!reader, cheating, teasing, choking, crying, daddy kink, hate fuck -> kinda toxic soft fuck, brat taming, oral m!receiving, good dialogue shitty writing

i wrote this in 3 hrs bc hyperfixation (song i listened to) like its smut but is it the type of smut u get off to? probably not.

i don't understand, whats a girl gotta do to get a good lay around here???? thx

11:14 PM • 07/01/21

your tweet was not a rhetorical question. your tweet was supposed to get a few fun dms. your tweet was supposed to blow up just a little bit. your tweet was not supposed to entice your ex-boyfriend to message you for the first time in over a year, and it definitely wasn't supposed to lead to him texting your number that you thought he no longer had, and it absolutely positively 100% was not supposed to lead to you hooking up.

not that it was an issue for you, but it probably would be an issue for his girlfriend.

//

the dm shocked you, because how could it not after going so long only knowing about atsumu through the news and social media? his girlfriend was the entire reason two of you stopped talking when you did, but it wasn't even her doing. atsumu chose to break off contact all on his own, some bullshit about trust and her being really good for him.

and they were still together, you saw their anniversary post less than a week ago. and yet there he was.

and yet there he was texting back and forth with you for the better half of an hour before making the short drive over to your place.

and yet here he is, one hand ghosting over your lower back, other hand bracing the under side of your thigh, hot breath on your collar bones despite the fact that he had a girlfriend and despite the fact that you shattered his heart into a million pieces

//

he’s made small talk, asked you how you’ve been with an unease that he didn’t try hard enough to hide, leaned against the couch, but hasn’t actually sat.

“hey, calm down or i really will call your brother, always the calmer one.”

“and, yet, ya didn’t date him,” he quips back. the air is still for a moment, settling alongside the realization. you’d acknowledged it through text, but this was different. it slipped out easily, an impulsive rebuttal to a joke made numerous times before, a passing recollection and acknowledgment of the very reason he shouldn’t be here in the first place.

“well, no, obviously not, i’ve got a thing for blondes,” you shrug and he laughs, short and breathy. it feels almost humoring, but then you watch his shoulders slump, laxing into a normal state for the first time since he’s been here.

“a thing for blondes who actually sit down on the couch instead of leaning against them,” you gesture towards the middle of the sofa.

“what about you?” he asks, abiding anyways and taking a seat perfectly where your eyes landed, not enough room on either side of him for you to fit.

“where do you expect me to sit?” you ask right back, raising your eyebrows, stepping towards him anyway despite your teasing adversity.

he only glances down at his lap, lifting his hands from their clasped position, and motioning towards himself. you crawl into his lap, one knee dipping into the cushion on either side of him.

“what, did you miss me that much?” you tease, placing your hands overtop of his, pulling them lazily along until they're resting on your ass, fingertips tucked politely under the hem of your underwear. there's hesitance in his movements even with your guiding help.

"you don't have to be gentle with me, y'know." you tilt your head to the side, pushing backwards until you can feel resistance, until you can feel his fingers spread apart, taking as much of you into his hands as he can and digging his dull fingernails into your flesh. "i know you've probably gone soft a bit, huh? with your girlfriend and all"

his entire body tenses, some sort of backlash bubbling up in the discomfort, and you know that backlash is probably in the form of a shitty comment at your expense.

so you don't let it leave his throat, closing the gap and slipping your tongue into his mouth, sliding it against his before he can make an excuse or put you down. you did it to catch him off guard, but he tastes so good, so familiar even though so much time has passed that you can't help but moan into the kiss.

and fuck is his hair softer than you remember. his hands are bigger than you remember and his stomach is more rigid than you remember and he's stronger than you remember, and you pull away from the kiss now because you're out of breath and it's probably been enough time for him to swallow whatever shitty thing he was going to say and he's so much fucking prettier than you remember.

when did he get this pretty?

the softness of your eyes is mirrored in his, a reflection of rediscovery, relearning things that you don't remember forgetting. and there's this feeling that's burning in your core, a mixture of emotions, one of them you can't put your finger on, but you know you want to ignore.

"can you please take your shirt off, i haven't fucked anyone as ripped as you in a while and i kinda miss it." fingers running along the hem, you tug upwards gently.

"is that the only reason i'm here?" he jeers, but leans forward anyway.

"you know why you're here." before you've thrown his shirt into a crumpled pile on the floor, he's already wrapped both of his arms around your waist, picking you up only momentarily before sitting you down on the edge of the couch.

"i do," he says, and if you weren't you, if you hadn't known atsumu for as long as you have, you wouldn't have been able to recognize him after that drastic change in tone with that sultry look in his eyes as he drops to the floor, nudging your legs apart and smirking up at you. "i know exactly why i'm here, which is why it's kinda weird that you've had such a bitter, snarky mouth all night."

if that damned smirk and stupid tone didn't warm you right up, this would've done just fine on it's own. instead, it just added to the involuntary reactions you were feeling all over your body, cheeks burning, fingers restless against the muscle of your thigh, peering down at atsumu as he toyed with your panties, softly, abruptly, there and then not as his grasp moves to the hem of your shirt, pushing the fabric up as far as he can reach, running his palm over freshly exposed skin.

you finish the motion, brushing your fingers over his as you throw your shirt onto the cushion next to you.

"why don't ya ask nicely if i'll eat ya, princess?"

he kisses the insides of your thighs and you wonder if he remembered how sensitive they are or if it's just a coincidence.

but it doesn't matter how badly you want it, how many nights you've spent lying awake thinking about his stupid fucking tongue, wishing that there was some sort of toy that could replicate how disgustingly good it felt, because the question enters your mind and you want so badly to knock that smirk off his face.

"do you call her princess too or is that reserved just for me?"

and it does, knock the smirk off his face that is, but only for a moment. he tsks, shaking his head as he pushes himself up from the ground. regret is already seeping in as you squeeze your thighs together. your pussy is already soaked and you were about to get everything you've been missing for the past 3 years.

now, instead, atsumu is towering over you palming himself through his shorts and talking down to you in a way that makes you even wetter, "we gotta do something about that ungrateful little mouth of yers, don't we?"

"if you're not going to eat me out, won't you at least answer my question?" you ask, digging yourself deeper into this disobedient hole you're finding yourself in.

he reaches out so quickly that you almost flinch, but you trust him too much for that. he laces his fingers into your hair forming a tight fist at the base of your head, directing your eyes to him as he steps forward between your legs, spreading them apart with his shins. "the answer would probably just go to your head."

absolutely nothing could stop the smile that spread across your face, corners upturning and spanning as far as possible as you greedily think of this pet name saved just for you.

"what else did you save only for me, tsumu?" you ask, scooching forwards, legs spreading wider, pressing against the outsides of his calves. you're far too excited about the effects you've had on him and his relationship. as the sentence leaves your mouth, as the nickname falls so easily off of your tongue, you see his strong exterior falter for a fraction of a second. "she doesn't get to call you tsumu?"

the fist in your hair gets tighter, so tight that you can feel his hand start to shake and there's a darkness in his eyes that wasn't there before, a darkness that tells you he's been timid up until this point, a darkness that you probably shouldn't provoke, but it's been a long time since you've had this much fun.

"been awhile since you've had a brat to tame, hasn't it?" you whisper, blinking away the tears that have collected in the corners of your eyes.

"i think yer beyond being brat at this point," he huffs, no longer waiting for your next move. he uses one hand to push down his shorts, keeping a tight grasp on your head, not letting you move an inch and then guides your head towards his cock. "put yer mouth to good use or i swear to god you won't be able to talk for four days."

it sounds like an option, but it's not. he doesn't give you the chance to misbehave again. he drags the head of his cock on your bottom lip, precome smearing against it before he presses the tip into your mouth.

you're staring up at him because you've missed this so much, the concentration on his face, this control that he has over you, this underlying distain for the way you act out. he's not even looking you in the eyes, staring past you at the way his cock disappears between your lips.

"fuck, take it," he grunts, thrusting in and out of your mouth slowly, spit drooling down your chin as they start getting faster, head prodding at the back of your throat.

your mouth feels so full, head bobbing with his wreckless thrusts until he pulls you completely onto his cock, your lips wrapped around the base, the length of his fat cock perfectly surrounded by your tight throat, and then he holds you there. seconds tick by and your eyes flutter closed and the only sensation you can take in is the light throbbing of his cock.

"isn't this so much better? actually being useful for once," he sneers, but you can barely hear him as you focus on just staying conscious. his fingers skim over your neck, wrapping around the bulge he's created, balls twitching against your chin. you bring your hands up to his thighs, fingers digging into the muscle as you reach your limit, head fogging and throat burning.

he pulls you off of his cock and you only catch a glimpse of how satisfied he looks as you gasp for air, swallowing just to feel your throat void of something. "god yer lucky i wanna be inside of ya so fucking bad now or i would cum down that pretty throat of yers so fast."

you're still regaining your composure as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down your thighs, cock throbbing as he watches the string of wetness connecting your pussy and your panties. he presses harsh, rushed kisses into the side of your jaw, trailing down until he can’t reach any further.

you want to say something, anything to put him back in his place, to make him flustered again, but you just can't think, still drunk on the feeling of choking on his big fucking cock.

the only thing that comes out is, "please, fuck me."

he laughs, honest to god, throws his head back and laughs as he lines himself up with you, rubbing the tip between your pretty slick lips and pressing his hips forward just enough to feel your hole start to stretch for his head. "not so bratty, now, are ya?"

you shake your head because it doesn't matter anymore how much you missed acting out just so he would put you in your place, you were there. you were exactly where he wanted you and fuck, did you want him.

"ask nicely," he taunts, a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he pushes his luck as far as he can take it.

you roll your hips, desperate to feel any part of him. "please, daddy."

"f-fuck," he stammers, grin completely gone, precome leaking from the slit of his twitching cock, harsh resolve crumbling over a single word. "fuck, again." he presses his hips forward, sliding inside of you inch by inch.

and it hits you.

"she doesn't call you daddy, either?" you ask, narrowing your eyes, some sort of clarity replacing these pathetic thoughts.

when you were with him, you used the name religiously, in and out of the bedroom. sometimes to get what you wanted and other times just to watch him tense up. and now his life was void of the weight that name carried and that didn’t sit with you right. poise and bite fill you almost as quickly as it left you, "you saved a lot of things just for me, didn't you?"

he doesn't reply, silent as he places a hand on your shoulder and thrusts completely inside of you, hips pressed against the insides of your thighs as the breath is knocked completely out of your lungs. he's trying to prove that he has control over you still, digging into you so brutally that he knows you'll think of him later. and it feels so fucking good and you feel so fucking full and it would be so easy to just shut your mouth and take it, but it wouldn’t be nearly as fun.

“fuck, there’s no way that you’re this rough with her,” you almost laugh, settling on a telling smirk instead, “mmm but there’s also no way that you get this hard for her.”

each time he fucks into you, the sound and the sting of his hips smacking against the insides of your thighs gets harsher. you know that he’s doing it to shut you up, to make you forget about whatever it is that’s on your mind and focus on how good it feels or how much it hurts, but it’s really just proving your point.

his hands are roaming, moving from place to place, trying to find a permanent spot to root, one that gives him the most control. in the process, he’s leaving marks all over you, red spots, crescent-shaped indents, freshly forming bruises, and the thought of finding them in the coming days is driving you insane.

you can feel the stretch, closing your eyes to savor the feeling, quiet for a moment, the sound of your dripping pussy clenching around him filling the room. you don’t want to admit it, how quickly he’s gotten you so close, but you’re sure he can feel it in the way that you’re gripping onto him even tighter.

you snake your hand down between your legs, rubbing sloppy circles into your clit as he continually pounds into you. you’re so fucking close, can feel that familiar heat rising to your core, your body growing more sensitive.

“makes sense you wanted to come fuck me,” you mumble, “bet you haven’t gotten off really good in a long time, right, daddy?”

he’s unapologetic in the way he lets it affect him this time, grip getting tighter, cock slamming into you, not because he wants to teach you a lesson, but because he can’t help it.

“not without my tight cunt and dirty mouth, huh, daddy?” it’s somehow fucking with him even more as your voice gets scratchier, needier, softer from how close you are. “rub my messy pussy, daddy, gonna cum.”

your arms are weak as you hang them around atsumu’s neck, holding onto him desperately because you know you’re going to need it while you cum. his calloused fingers replace yours, rougher, thicker, harder, faster rubbing over your swollen clit. “cum all over daddy’s cock, princess.”

god, you’re just as fucked as he is hearing that name bounce off the walls and right back to you, that name that’s just for you. you wrap your legs around his lower back, pulling him into you because you need to feel every fucking inch, wanna coat his entire cock with your cum, have to, cumming from how deep he is inside of you, and then from the thought of her unknowingly tasting you on it.

“good girl, fuck, yer tight.”

you stare up at him with half-lidded post-orgasm eyes and an innocently dopey smile on your face, “tighter than her?” you look so fucking cute, sensitive walls hugging his length, so fucking happy and blissed out that the answer slips right out.

“yes, fuck, missed yer cunt so much.”

you move to sit up, push your hand into his shoulder and motion to the couch. when he moves, you move with him, not wanting to feel empty for a second longer than you have to.

seated completely on his cock, he’s even deeper inside of you and you want to feel this full forever. you don’t even want to move, resting your forehead against his. “tell me something, tsumu, and be honest.” he doesn’t offer any sort of reply, verbal or otherwise.

“do you think of me sometimes when you fuck her?” you start moving, sitting up straight as you pull yourself off his cock almost completely before slamming back down. “do you wish she was me? do you almost say my name when she cums because she almost gets as tight as i am?”

“you don’t need to answer, tsumu, can see it all over your face,” you continue, hand placed firmly on his chest for leverage as you fucked yourself harder on his cock.

“yer a fucking bitch. ya haven’t changed at all,” he breathes, and it hurts way less than it probably should, the tone of his voice and the shock on his face, but you can feel him inside of you, you can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath your palm. he’s throbbing with every shitty question, twitching at every mention of how much better you are than her, grunting under his breath whenever you point out one of his slip ups. he fucking loves it and you know him too well not to notice it.

“no, i have, it’s just not exactly what you wanted when you texted me. you wanted a tight brat to bruise and choke, didn’t you?” you ask, tilting your jaw upwards, exposing your neck. “fucking do it then, but don’t whine about the fact that this little brat is better than your girlfriend.”

his hands are still planted loosely on your hips, guiding your motions, helping you set a pace. he’s not reaching for what you’re so graciously offering him.

“don’t fucking kid yourself. you can’t get off to a nice girl who gives you exactly what you want, can you, tsumu?” you glare down at him, no longer on display, leaning towards him so you can talk through gritted teeth. “i’m a fucking bitch because it’s exactly what you want, none of that ‘really good for you’ bullshit.”

he lifts his hips, thrusting up to meet you as you slide down his cock. it’s brutal, the slapping of your tender skin against his toned thighs, and it feels so good, hurts so good that you don’t even remember what you were saying. and he doesn’t slow down. he keeps getting faster, keeps going deeper, and you’re starting to think that he’s realizing how much he likes it, the shitty way that you talk to him, that he actually missed it.

“fuck you.”

“am i wrong, baby? that’s why you’re with me right now and not her.” it leaves your mouth without much thought. you can’t think much about anything with the way he’s fucking you.

“i didn’t come here to talk about my girlfriend all night,” he bites.

“right, but-” you’re stopped in the middle of your sentence, two hands wrapping around your throat, long fingers pressing into your windpipe. his eyes are deadlocked on yours as he squeezes gently, testing the waters.

you rest your hand on his wrist, smiling as best you can, hoping you look pretty enough in his grasp as you push your neck further into his hold and the look on his face is one that you want to capture forever. it proves your point even further, this notion of atsumu and his nice sex life and his girlfriend that’s really good for him, because when’s the last time that atsumu has been with someone who just wanted to be treated like shit?

when’s the last time that atsumu’s been treated like shit?

you roll your eyes back in your head, chin towards the ceiling, lack of oxygen only heightening every inch of your skin that’s in contact with him before bringing your line of sight back down to his peering eyes.

your voice is choked, hoarse, sparse as the words struggle to leave, only strong enough for him to hear if he’s really paying attention. “fuck, atsumu, you’re so fucking big, so fucking perfect, you’re a fucking god, fuck me so good, thank you so much, i wish i never broke up with you.”

he doesn’t say a word, swallows whatever noise or comeback was coming up his throat, and blinks at you. fucked out expression, gasping for the return of the air you just spent, but it’s all worth it. his fists are closing, squeezing to stop you or to dare you to fight back, you’re not completely sure, but the second that your lungs have filled up just enough to mutter three more words, you do.

“is that better?”

you wait, assured and confident that whatever he does next will be some dramatic act to prove something to you and to himself, to make you regret your outlash, to make you actually believe the sarcastic statement you just spewed.

atsumu always did surprise you.

“it is,” he grunts, hands placed back onto to your waist, but they’re delicate now, tender almost as he runs the pads of his fingertips over your hipbones. “tell me how much you missed me, doll.”

there were so many ways you could fuck with him, so many things you could say to keep up this shitty charade, you know there are, you know they exist, but you can’t think of a single one. you open your mouth and nothing comes out save for tiny, quivering breaths and noises that were beyond your control.

“tell me.” harsher than before, but with an underlying care that made your heart flutter.

“sometimes, i do miss you,” you admit, and that’s exactly what it is, an admittance, something that’s circled in your brain but has never left your mouth, not even to the empty walls of your room. an absurd part of you hope he picks up on the lack of past tense.

he’s known you for too long, listened to you too well, gotten too deep despite the fight you put up to not hear how genuine this senseless little sentence is coming out of your mouth. “really late at night, lonely in my bed, wondering why i let you go.”

and, fuck, it’s so stupid, not what you bargained for at all, but you want to feel closer to him, need to feel him completely against you because his skin is warm in a way that you’ve haven’t been able to replicate and maybe this is just a long-winded ploy to make you regret this attitude you’ve adopted for the night, but it’s working and you don’t care.

you’d like to think that he could see it on every feature, in every movement and action, this overwhelming need of yours for him to hold you, to be closer than he is right now even as he’s buried inside of you, because he does. he runs his hands up your back, crosses them over one another and braces you with his arms, mouth against your ear, “tell me more, pretty.”

and you listen. not because he’s fucking you into submission or because he has this caustic influence on you, but because you want to and because he deserves to know these thoughts of remorse and guilt that have been weighing heavy since the minute you left.

“think about you a lot,” you mutter into his chest, “was really shitty to you, couldn’t stop thinking about the version of our break up that you told everyone, and now i see you on my feed and think about if that were me celebrating an anniversary with you at some gross fancy dinner.”

your muscles have relaxed, movements ceased, leaning fully into atsumu as he thrusted up into you leisurely, focusing instead on the snap of his hips and closeness between the two of you. “wanted to reach out to apologize or to fuck you or just to hear your voice, but i didn’t.”

it’s heavy and not necessarily the dirty talk that you thought would be coming out of your mouth tonight, but it’s also not stopping and he’s not telling you to stop. “missed your voice and your face and your hands and your warmth and how good you are to me. and i really fucking needed this, tsumu, fuck i needed you so bad.”

you hope, with everything in you, that he’s understanding everything you’re saying, that he’s perceiving it all as the truth, that he’ll see that you actually have changed, finally ready to tell him all of the things he wanted to hear back then, all the things he tried to get out of you before you broke his heart. but have you really changed? are you saying these things so that he’ll know the truth or so he won’t be able to stop thinking about you while he’s with her?

your chest feels tight, heart racing, air leaving your lungs as shaky as your limbs, in desperate need of some sort of redirection. you’re silent for a few moments, letting the room fill with his shallow breaths and striking skin, composing yourself and fixating on atsumu’s steady pace.

curling your fingers against his stomach, you move in time with him once again, lifting yourself as he pulls away and slamming down as he thrusts upwards. you don’t know if you’ve really changed or what the real motivation behind inviting atsumu over tonight was, but you know exactly what you’ve been craving, not just in these last few hours, but for years.

you brush your cheek against his, leaning forward to whisper directly into his ear so that the feeling of your breath and the soft cadence of your voice never leave his memory.

“does she let you cum inside, tsumu?”

his response is visceral, instinctive, hips stuttering, failing to smoothly meet the backs of your thighs as his head collides with your shoulder, too heavy with swarming thoughts and poor self control to make any audible noise that’s not an almost animalistic grunt.

kiss after soft kiss is pressed into his jawline, down his chest, fingers interlocked behind his neck, pulling yourself closer and closer until you can feel his destructive heartbeat combatting your own.

“does she let you pump her full of cum, daddy?”

he can’t form a verbal response, groaning into your shoulder as he fucks into you with abandon, no longer as a power trip or a control tactic, just using you to get off. you wanted him to use you to get off. he’s so fucking wrecked beneath you, eyes screwed tight as he moves on compulsion alone, but you knew how pretty he sounded when he was about to cum, whiny and grateful and you refused to let this moment slip away.

“i know how much you loved filling me with your load, tsumu, feeling my pussy get all creamy, milking your fat cock into my greedy little hole. you went crazy for it, would always pump your thick seed into me until it spilled out all over your cock, made me feel so full, so pretty,” you ramble into his skin.

“baby, do you still get to feel that? does she let you unload so deep, tsumu?” your questions are coming out more haphazardly than anything else you’ve said and you know the answer, but you’re craving the sound. “or did you save that all for me too?”

“saved it for ya,” he mumbles, throat hoarse, cock pulsing against your walls, needy, sloppy kisses placed wherever he can reach.

“yeah? tell me, baby, saved it all for me, couldn’t cum in a pussy that wasn't made just for you? needed me, right, baby?”

“needed you, fuck, only you, need only you,” he moans and it’s so perfectly desperate and everything you need it to be.

“gonna cum, baby, gonna cum for you, will you cum for me? will you cum inside me, tsumu, please?” you know he can tell how close you are, can feel how tightly you’re squeezing him, how dripping wet you are, can hear your incessant, thoughtless ramblings.

“i’m gonna fill you, pretty, wanna feel you cum on my cock while i fill you, okay?”

you nod against his chest, core tight, waiting, waiting, his hips driving upwards faster, slamming you down harder until his movements stutter, a guttural groan falling upon your ears before feeling his cock pulse inside of you, rope after rope of thick cum painting your insides, and, fuck, you missed this.

you let go, collapsing against atsumu entirely as you cum around his cock, pussy clenching as he lazily thrusts into you, driving you through your orgasm and fucking his cum deeper inside of you, coating his entire length.

when his movements stop, when his hips stop moving and the grunting is replaced with shallow breaths that turn into normal breaths, neither of you move. your chests are rising and falling in time and you’re starting to feel gross the longer you sit in it, but you don’t want to move. you can’t move. the things that you’ve said might feel too real if you move from this position. and that doesn’t make any sense, but you don’t want to chance it. you feel gross, but also better than you have in a while and then he rubs a small circle into your lower back just gently enough for you to notice, just softly enough to send shivers up your spine, and you know that you can’t be in this position another second.

//

being in the same bathroom as atsumu, legs spread, sitting in your bathtub, cleaning up the mess he’s made while he uses crumpled up pieces of toilet paper to clean up the mess you’ve (mostly he’s) made is weirdly domestic in the most comforting way. it’s not awkward, but some part of you wishes it was because the seconds keep ticking on and the regret isn’t seeping in, not just about tonight, but about anything you’ve said.

it’s mostly silent save for atmospheric noises that couldn’t be helped and you wish that you were wishing someone would say something.

but you clean without a word and so does he and when you stand up, he offers you a hand to step over the lip of the tub and he passes you a dry towel from where you keep them under the sink. he uses your toothbrush without even asking and then preps it for you to use and you thank him when he hands it to you.

you walk back with him to your room and he’s one step ahead of you because he could find your bedroom blindfolded and you get changed in front of him and it’s not one of those moments where you get embarrassed and then feel dumb about getting embarrassed, you just feel at home.

“i meant it, by the way, i miss you sometimes,” you shake your head, “no, that’s a lie, i miss you a lot.” you’re starting to feel antsy now, missing the comfortable silence because now you’re talking about uncomfortable feelings while they’re not mindlessly spilling out of you.

your fingers are tingling, heart furiously beating in your ears as you continue, “and nights like tonight make me miss you more than i thought was possible, more than they probably should for how long i’ve been without you, but i think you bring out a really shitty side of me.”

“i think i don’t have to,” he says, rushing to get it out of his throat before he’s too scared to say it, “i think i remind you of how you used to be, but that’s not how you are now.” you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. “i think we could try again and i could show you that it’s not true.”

“you don’t...,” you start, voice diminishing into silence, because what do you say to that?

“because you’re right, why else am i here with you tonight and not her?” he asks, closing the gap between the two of you, not touching you, just getting closer.

“tsumu…,” you start again, voice diminishing into silence again, because what do you say to that?

“i don’t let her call me that because i couldn’t bear the sound of it not coming from you.”

you take a step back, head spinning from a single sentence despite only solidifying a conclusion you had already come to all on your own. “i think maybe you should go home to your girlfriend before she notices you’re missing.”

“let me stay the night,” he blurts, hand spanning out to grasp your shoulder, your arm, wherever his reach would land.

it comes out of your mouth like a warning, imploring him to tread careful, “tsumu.”

but he just keeps pressing forward, faster, harder, recklessly, heedless and senseless, “please, yn, please, if this is the last time i ever get to talk to you, to see you standing in front of me where i can do this,” his hand floats up, fingers caressing your cheek, curling against your jaw and you melt into how inviting and warm his touch is, “then just let me savor it.”

the thought of this being your last night together hits you, hard, like you’ve been run over by a train, and you didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. you’re convinced it feels worse than when you left him the first time. you don’t want it to be the last time.

“last time, huh?” you ask. with how close he is and the hold he has on you, you know that he can feel the instability in your voice, see the hesitance in your features.

“i mean,” he pulls you into him, arms wrapping tightly around you so that you can feel the vibrations of his laugh, “how well did that work last time?”

“if i see you again, i’ll want to see you again, and again, and again,” you admit, soaking in the discomfort of vulnerability before asking, “is that okay?”

“that’s all i want.”

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

yamaguchi isnt a hufflepuff JUST because hes loyal hes also a *hard worker*  and *dedicated* 

im not against hcing him as a slytherin but i think the outright rejection of him as a hufflepuff is rooted in ppl caring too much about subversion that it becomes more important than actual analysis 

(P.S. …suga is definitely a hufflepuff and slytherin suga, unlike slytherin yama, is PURELY the product of people trying too hard to be subversive/subvert popular fanon) 

Study 🍟📖

yamaguchi! where are all of tsukishima's tickle spots? :>

On the way home from jump float practice. I’m trying out different styles, send help.

Commissions || Ko-fi

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Haikyuu!! Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima Kei's Father Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Tsukishima Kei, Omega Yamaguchi Tadashi, Mentioned Terushima Yuuji, Mentioned Kageyama Tobio, Mentioned Kuroo Tetsurou, Dubious Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Control, Edging, Mind Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, PWP, Pheromones, Possessive Tsukishima Kei, Jealous Tsukishima Kei, Yamaguchi Tadashi is a Little Shit, Slut Shaming, Dom Tsukishima Kei, sub yamaguchi tadashi, POV Yamaguchi Tadashi, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Dom/sub, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Humiliation, Verbal Humiliation, brat taming, Yamaguchi Tadashi is a Brat, Brat Tamer Tsukishima Kei, Overstimulation, Ruined Orgasms, Spanking, Bondage, Multiple Orgasms, Blow Jobs, Sex Toys, Vibrators, Dacryphilia, Objectification, Mindbreak, Scenting, MPreg (mentioned), Jealous Yamaguchi Tadashi, Mind Games Summary:

Yamaguchi goes out of his way to make Tsukishima jealous.

Obviously, he gets more than he bargained for.

2nd Chapter finally up!!

Rainy day yams

𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕚'𝕤 ~ 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓 ~

i literally just did a small, cute, 3k event but i have not been able to stop thinking about cheating fics

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮:

♡ cheating irl? not good at all, horrendous, would never commend.

♡ cheating with fictional characters in fictional spaces? mmyum.

♡ either the character you choose or the reader can be the titular cheater cheater, we don't discriminate. fic can be centered around:

reader is cheating on said character

reader is cheating with said character

character is cheating with reader

character is cheating on reader

they’re both cheaters (read: cheater cheater cheater cheater)

♡ entry due by: august 1st! ♡ fic completed by: september 1st!

𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠:

♡ be 18 or older, even if you're writing sfw!~

♡ write anything u want, any format, as long as it's over 500 words! dark content welcome as long as it's tagged accordingly

♡ multifandom!!! hq, aot, mha, jjk ~

♡ anyone can join! send me an ask or message with:

character you're writing about (one fic per character, first come first serve!!)

which type of cheater we're vibin with

genre (nsfw/sfw, smut, angst, fluff)

♡ please reblog this post if you're participating or thinking about participating to get the word around!

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠:

♡ make it clear that it's apart of the collab! please tag it with #cheater cheater collab so that they'll all be in the same place~~

♡ tag me so that i can reblog it and put it on the masterlist! ~~

𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 ~

♡ @ultamatrix ♡ ~~ kuroo / nsfw

♡ @a-kaash-me-outside ♡ ~~ osamu / nsfw

♡ @kodzukuroken ♡ ~~ atsumu / nsfw

♡ @haikyutiehoe ♡ ~~ meian / nsfw

♡ @alwaysaslutforfic ♡ ~~ daichi / nsfw

♡ @kim-jonginism ♡ ~~ bokuto / sfw

♡ @driftwoodsun ♡ ~~ yams / nsfw

What do we say, to the sad fic that will make us cry and go to bed feeling miserable?

We say, not today

Not today

how to trick writers into giving you more fanfic to read

yamaguchiii

From divine right granted by the God of Christianity to divine right granted by the God of Capitalism. Sounds about right.

the fact that pro-monarchy arguments have degenerated, over the past few centuries, from “the king rules by divine right and is accountable to nobody but god”, to “uhm the royals generate a lot of income from tourism” will never stop being extremely funny to me