#i for two seconds thought about bastardizing them into skate rats

[undermattsun-archive]

𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚚 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜

⇢ a tag game! choose 4 (or less) schools and describe what type of relationship (platonic or romantic) you’d have with 1-2 characters from those schools!

was tagged by sunnt ( @blahkugo ) + angle ( @bakatenshii ) + now linsanity ( @sugardaddykenma )ok i get people i’m doing it sheesh ,,also i don’t have those sexie lines y’all have how u do that i’m still confused by it nvm angel gave me lines n i’m too lazy to backspace :)

karasuno ◇ kageyama

ok this might be a surprise to some that he’s on my list but lemme explain. he’s too much like all the other boys i love to annoy irl and i think despite the bitter exterior/mean tendencies he wouldn’t actually mind my company. i think the two of us are awkward enough that’d we’d be like? should we just date to get it over with? it’d probably be a short relationship or one we’d drag out longer than necessary. but i think we’d end up being important people to each other if that makes sense.

so ol tobio would be my first love and that’s pretty epic.

aoba johsai ◇ matsukawa issei

my url isn’t for nothing! matsukawa issei is truly the blueprint for me, tall, great eyebrows and looks like he doesn’t give a fuck? sexy. but truly i just think he would entertain all my foolish whims, watch animated kids movies, get ice cream or whatever fast food at 1 am and go on long drives where we do nothing but listen to music and talk about whatever. to top it all off, i just think whenever i go through whatever mood i’m in he’d be that pillar of strength i need (while also telling me to snap out of it when i’ve dragged my pity party out for too long)

this man right here? love of my life, whether we stay together forever or woefully part bc such is life, he’d forever be in my heart.

shiratorizawa ◇ tendou satori

this man right here? he’d be my ride or die, thru and thru. we would murder for each other and with each other. half our time spent with each other would be talking about completely diff topics than the other but it would still make sense. we would probs end up getting arrested together for arson and that’s just too iconic of us.

thru and thru partners in crime like literal crime we r for sure gonna get arrested

inarizaki ◇ miya atsumu

ok ok he’s on here and the reason is simple. he reminds me too much of my irl childhood friend, what can i say? i think we would fight all the time while simultaneously ready to go to war for each other. we’ll always be able to be completely authentic with each other, no holds barred. and yeah maybe there’ll be days where i’ll wonder what if, what if we dated or whatever but i know in my heart we’re meant to be nothing more than friends!

he’d be my friend forever, my rock, my favorite what if :)

tags: @onefortyninecm @sbspice ,,,i can’t remember who has and who hasn’t been tagged so,, if u wanna do it say i tagged u

[welllpthisishappening]

21 for the kiss prompts. because I am me LOL

Alright, so, full disclosure, this is not CS fic. I was going to write CS fic for this. i was! I had this vaguely angsty Emma gets hurt and Killian loses his mind thing happening, but then—I didn’t write that. Instead, here’s Will Scarlet gets hurt and Belle French loses her mind and it’s hockey. It’s 2,000 words! I don’t know how that happened. Anyway, the prompt here was “bloody kiss” and I love Will Scarlet with the force of a thousand suns. If you guys want to send more kiss prompts, I’m still waiting for people to respond to my emails.

“You’re mad.”

“Your powers of deduction are truly unparalleled. What gave me away, exactly?”

Will bit his lower lip. Let his teeth dig down until he tasted blood and, well—more blood, he supposed. Six stitches later, though, and there wasn’t much blood left on his face, just a pair of narrow eyes doing their best to glare a hole through his cranium and he didn’t think that was entirely possible. 

Biology had never been his strong suit, really. Unless you counted hauling off and punching some rat-faced bastard on the Caps who couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut about a possible offsides that had maybe happened two periods before and they’d been winning and it was fine. Totally fine. This was his job. Punching and bruising up assholes. Just a little bit, to remind them who they were playing and what was on the line and—

It was entirely possible Belle’s eyes were not entirely human. 

His face flushed. Heat raced through either one of his cheeks, threatening what he could only assume was the structural integrity of his own eyes because Will couldn’t remember when he’d decided to widen them, exactly. Just that they were starting to dry out a little bit and Ariel was going to kill him. 

She’d made that very clear post-game. 

There might be a two-person line to wreak havoc, now. 

“You get this little pinch between your eyebrows,” Will said, leaning forward until the top of his head nearly hit the bottom of her chin, “makes it easy to tell.”

Belle huffed. Crossed her arms. Nearly punched him in the face, which would have been something close to the peak of irony at this point, and then maybe Ariel wouldn’t threaten to kill him again. No, that was wishful thinking. 

It’d be a miracle if they were allowed uptown later. Ariel had probably sent out an APB, or whatever the culinary equivalent of that was. No admittance until the blood had dried off his forehead and he laid prostrate at her feet, begging forgiveness for the error of his ways. 

Like hell, he would.

This was his job. He was the—

Fuck, maybe he was a goon. He hadn’t scored in a while. Not even a secondary assist, or anything. Skating at the edge of the blue line on a fledgling power play did not an All-Star make, and, well, now that he thought about it, maybe Will had started jawing first. There were mumbled insults, at least. 

From him, specifically. More than once, actually. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be back here, y’know.”

The pinch got—

Pinchier. Deeper. Like a tiny, little crevice between what Will was starting to realize were meticulously cared-for eyebrows and maybe he should get a CT scan or an MRI or something because it had taken him this long to notice she was also wearing his jersey. Too-long sleeves grazed the slight bend of her knuckles, looking as if she was actively stopping herself from fisting her hands at her side and that thought wasn’t supposed to make him smile. 

Still. 

Will’s lips tugged up. His eyes thinned. Nose crinkled ever so slightly. Something that had been growing increasingly familiar in the last few months of the season jumped between his ribs, like little flutters of wholly imaginary wings, and she kept wearing his jersey. Kept coming to games, and that was good because they’d gotten past the labels and expectations, all of which were sky-high on the NHL’s most romance-prone hockey team. 

God, maybe he wasn’t just a goon. Maybe he was a complete and total asshole. 

“This is Cap’s fault,” Will announced, and he’d been ready for the pinch. He was less prepared for those eyebrows he was starting to become a tad obsessed with to soar up Belle’s forehead, past the swoop of bangs that regularly messed with his cognizant reasoning. 

She scoffed. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No, but maybe when we get back to—”

“I will kick you in the shins, Scarlet, I swear to every God you can think of.”

He tried not to deflate. Really, he did. But his name seemed to crack out of her, punching the bridge of his nose like Belle had actually pulled her right arm back and her scoff was more like an exhale that time. That had never happened. 

Even before. Before the labels and the attempts at setting up Killian and watching that entire season and how often he stared longing at Emma, before Regina and Locksley continued to be parents extraordinaire and the jealousy started to eat away at him. Slowly, but surely and he never talked about that, but he figured she knew because Belle knew everything and—

“Bet you twenty bucks you could name more gods than I could.”

Another sigh. A tilt of her head. It made her bangs shift. He wasn’t sure what was happening in his chest. Expanding and contracting, a painful rhythm that hurt way more than the stitches or the shitty metaphors and he was glad she’d snuck into the locker room. Will didn’t want her anywhere else. 

Naming conventions, aside. 

“I’m sorry—” “—I love you.”

He almost fell over. Impressive, since Will was still sitting down and his feet didn’t entirely reach the floor from that position. His jaw dropped. He hated that. Partially because it hurt and mostly because he should have been way cooler, wanted to be way cooler, but there were dots of red on his girlfriend’s cheeks and teeth digging into her lower lip, now, and he resolutely ignored the ache in his calves when he slid back to his feet. 

Curling an arm around her waist, he didn’t think much about the precise way he yanked her. Forward. Directly into his chest and that didn’t leave much room to bend his knees, but Will was less concerned with specifics and the staging of this than actually getting to the good part. 

The kissing part. 

Plus, Belle pushed up on her toes. So, that helped. 

He groaned. Loudly, like embarrassingly loud. As soon as her head tilted and he could get his mouth on hers and they were all hands and lips and whatever she was doing with her tongue, tracing the lip he’d been so intent on biting through just a few moments before. Bending his knees did give Will some more leverage. To pull her even closer, moving his arm and ignoring her soft protests. 

Most of them died when he managed to get a hand under her left thigh. 

She groaned. Something to be said about symmetry, Will assumed. Although he also didn’t really...care. About the saying, mostly. Not when he was melting and falling, dropping into the deep end of a pool that was a shock to his system and the best thing that had ever happened to him and she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Bar none. 

Especially when she did that tongue thing. 

Closing his eyes, he knew he had to tilt his head. Had to breathe and stay conscious and he didn’t want to think about the medical requirements of a professional hockey player at a time like that, but he knew consistent awareness of his surroundings was probably fairly important and the roar of triumph blaring through his brain made that a little difficult. Breathing would have to be enough for now. 

“I can’t—” Belle’s shoulders heaved. Fingers dragged across the back of Will’s neck and he had to admit he was fairly impressed with her balance. Her right foot wasn’t on the ground. “Shit, I—” He pulled her lip between his teeth, tried to memorize the next hitch of her breath and he was about five-point two-three seconds away from losing his mind. Rocking his hips up was a very bad idea. He did it anyway. “Babe, I can’t think when you do that.”

Everything was spinning. He was spinning. No, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t spinning. He was standing and touching and there was barely any color left in Belle’s eyes. 

Pride prickled at the back of Will’s brain. Until pain joined the fray, making a glorious and unwelcome return at the precise moment he realized there was moisture on his cheek again. Warm and red and Ariel was going to kill him. 

“Cap and Emma were making out in the hallway,” Will explained, “pre-game. Nothing they don’t normally do, and I don’t even think they knew I was there.”

“Is any of this supposed to make me feel better?”

He nodded. “I love you, too. Like it’s ridiculous how in love with you I am.”

Silence. As much as there could be in a locker room, at least. Water fell from shower heads a few hundred feet away, the low murmur of questions and Lucas-approved answers, squeaking sneakers and clacking heels, and the familiar sound of wheels rolling across linoleum as the equipment hampers moved down the hall. 

Will took a deep breath. 

Slowly, through his nose. Keeping the nerves off his face was harder than he expected, and even more ridiculous than whatever he’d just proclaimed because Belle had proclaimed first and it was entirely possible they were both colossal idiots. That put them on even ground, though. 

He appreciated that. 

“Why were you mad, ma moitié?”

There was the pinch, again. “Why do you think?” Will shook his head, brushing hair away from her eyes and he knew he didn’t imagine that sigh, either. Softer. More content. All that previous even ground. “Because I—” Belle started, and the color hadn’t left her face yet. “I know you think you’ve got to be this guy. Out there defending, not just the goal but the people and that’s...I’m super into that.”

“But?”

“But it makes me so nervous, I could spit.’

Will genuinely had no idea what noise he made. It might not have been human, really. Tearing out of his throat, his eyes bugged and he bent over without really meaning to, forehead finding Belle’s shoulder like that was the only reasonable landing place. He was still bleeding. Or bleeding again, whatever. 

“Say that again,” he mumbled. Into her jersey. His jersey. Whatever, part two. 

“Spit,” she repeated, making sure to enunciate every letter, “because I know you can hold your own in a fight, and that’s how you think you make a difference on this team, but—”

“It is that’s why.”

“Was my shin-kicking threat not threatening?”

He kissed exactly where his lips were. “Not really, no.”

“‘Cuz I’ll totally do it, I swear. To all those gods and goddesses and then they’ll descend from on high and tell you that they also think you’re an idiot who should know that letting some rat on the ice get under your skin is exactly what they’re trying to do. Plus, it’s way better when you check them, y’know?”

Lifting his head didn’t hurt. Made him a little nervous, anxiety churning his gut and this was not the way Will thought this would happen. Maybe he could get Belle to kick Killian too. For the making out. And the unspoken frustration. He was definitely an idiot. “Is it just?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Don’t have to. You’re very easy to read.”

Belle lifted her eyebrows. More. “That so?’

“You think it’s super attractive when I check another dude.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to. Also, I love you.”

“You mentioned that before, yeah.”

“And I am sorry for freaking you out.” Sigh number three wasn’t quite as resigned as the others, but it still left guilt rising in the back of Will’s throat and every single inch of him froze. As soon as Belle leaned around him, grabbed a far-too-large handful of gauze and started wiping blood off his cheek. “That’s way too much, babe.”

“Ariel can deal.”

“Ya gonna kick her too?”

“I’ll consider it,” Belle mumbled, back on both feet again. For, like, two seconds. Before she pushed back up on her toes, kissed the corner of Will's mouth, and added, “Don’t do that to me again, ok?”

“Aye, aye, Cap.”

He had much better reflexes than her. Pulling her back to his side before either one of her shoes could land a blow was easy and bordering almost close to joyful and that was a strange thing for him to be, but it was also easy and somehow even more simple and Ariel let them into the restaurant that night. They stayed for all of fifteen minutes. 

And Will told Belle he loved her once every five minutes on the cab ride back to his apartment. 

He timed it, and everything. Just to make sure the color stayed in her cheeks.

[specterskater]

willie’s declassified afterlife survival guide (or why not to sell your soul)

aka the post about his connection with caleb

so it’s been... a very long time since willie has actually had his soul. like the majority of his afterlife. he passed away in 1993 and only spent a very short amount of time in limbo / the dark room before coming back fully. a lot of that early afterlife was... difficult. he tried clinging to the pieces of his old life as much as he could but it only made them slip away even more. a lot of time just,,,, disappeared that way.

eventually he decided to go to los angeles, rather than staying in seattle and being miserable while all his friends got married and moved on. this was around 1997-98 (like i said, a lot of time slipped away when he had nothing to occupy himself with). being in a new city gave him a better sense of self and helped reconcile with the whole ghost thing, leading to him pick up skating more and more. things aren’t great but they’re better.

and then it hits 2003. that existential crisis comes back full force when he realizes it’s been 10 years and he doesn’t know why he’s a ghost. why he didn’t just move on like everyone else. why is he here. time starts slipping again and he’s terrified. this is when one mister caleb covington swoops in to save the day, according to him at least.

willie ends up breaking into the hotel thats connected to the hollywood ghost club, finding out about it that way. he’s shocked to find a whole community of ghosts who are all somewhat okay with not moving on and performing for eternity. caleb, being the rat bastard he is, looks at this poor kid who’s just wanting a semblance of home and family and offers that to him. of course, in exchange for his soul.

willie accepts. he has nothing to lose.

(mechanics + further explanation under the cut! because its very long)

since willie’s soul is tied to caleb and whatever fuckin ghost magic he has, this means that there is a tether between the two that cannot be removed. willie will always unconsciously be drawn back to his soul because it’s his body trying to bring the two back together.

this means a certain level of his energy is tied to the hollywood ghost club. when he’s physically in the club, he’s regaining his strength so he can go out and do things during the day. the longer it’s gone since he sold his soul, his strength has significantly weakened so it takes longer for him to recharge and less time to drain.

this also means he literally cannot run away from caleb. if he does, he disappears forever. he’s tried already, and was only greeted with a “i told you so” look from caleb when he showed back up at the hgc flickering every three seconds.

caleb has the same ability to puppet willie as demonstrated with the boys in episode 9, but it’s a lot stronger and more subtle than what the stamp affords. caleb’s influence manifests as a gut feeling or instinct, usually a tiny thought or impulse that won’t leave him alone. this is what led willie to bump into alex and also offered to bring them to the hgc - even though willie might have thought it was his own volition, caleb planted the seed. 

here’s another example from a willex fic i wrote a couple weeks ago: “He knew something was up from the moment his compulsion to visit the Hollywood Ghost Club suddenly disappeared midway through the afternoon. It was a constant nagging in the back of his head no matter where he went, his body unconsciously seeking after where his soul remained. The feeling disappearing was followed by a sudden bout of vertigo, sending him tumbling off his board. As he sat on the concrete trying to steady himself again, it all clicked together. Caleb didn’t want him visiting the club, trying to keep him out of the club. There would be no reason for him to do that unless he knew that Willie could interfere with something.”

this is why caleb acts very casually around willie as well as directly telling him his plan at points (“You never said you were going to stamp them, you know what that will do to them.” “Well of course I do William, but they’re too powerful, I need them working for me.”) both of them are aware that caleb holds all the cards and no matter what willie does he won’t be able to break his contract without destroying whatever remains of himself in the process. 

all of this combined is why willie blames himself so severely for bringing the sunset curve boys to meet caleb. not only was he being manipulated, but he knew exactly what was going to happen. he also tries to stay away from all of them, especially alex, from that point onwards as so not to give caleb anything more to work with -- “Except Caleb knows too much already. From the point Alex started rambling about them in the Hollywood Ghost Club and Willie had to direct him back to talking about their abilities, Caleb had his bargaining chip for both boys.”

caleb never actually... gets mad at willie? at least never to the point of physical violence. if willie ever steps out of line or rebels, he’ll just get that tether between them yanked hard enough to induce some very severe flickering. again, both of them are aware what caleb can do. for this reason, caleb never really needs to lecture him (outside of that one scene in episode 6 in the alley). 

a slight sidenote: willie isn’t actually a performer at the hgc! because of how naturally charismatic he is, he’s usually a greeter or something along those lines, mainly interacting with the lifers during shows. he does occasionally perform but doesn’t dance - his thing is acrobatics!

[arttheweapon]

that time show pony bought fun ghoul at tommy chow mein’s

(based off of this) 

None of them noticed that Fun Ghoul had left the building.  To be fair, Fun Ghoul himself didn’t notice either. He was asleep. 

“What do you mean ‘you sold him’?” Party Poison asked, leaning onto the counter at Chow Mein’s. “He didn’t have a fuckin’ price tag.” 

Tommy shrugged. “Round here everything has a price tag. I know what I’d sell you for.” 

Party paused, finger in mid air, mouth open. Kobra Kid nudged him. He closed his mouth. “We’ll discuss that more later,” Party settled on. “Who did you sell him to?” 

“Can of Power Pup and I’ll tell you.” 

“Two seconds.” Party said, then turned around, spinning Jet Star and Kobra around with him. They had a brief, loudly whispered conversation about the merits of handing over precious food versus holding Chow Mein, “that rat bastard”, at phaser point (Baby Girl’s suggestion). Tommy heard every word, but didn’t react. The only sign he was alive was a slow blink and the rise and fall of his suited chest. He didn’t tend to take things personally. The three-out-of-four turned back around, and Baby Girl pushed her way to the front. 

A can of Power Pup was placed on the counter. 

---- 

“Show Pony!” Jet yelled, banging a fist on the plywood that passed for the door of Dr. D’s station. It slid open and Show Pony leaned against the wall, the picture of words such as “casual” and “suave”. 

“You rang?” They said, blinking at Jet through thick, glittering eyelashes. 

“I think you have something that belongs to us.” Jet stated. He heard a crash from inside the station, muffled cursing, and then Fun Ghoul appeared under Show Pony’s arm. 

“Fuck you! I belong to no one!” Ghoul shouted, pointing a finger in Jet’s face. “I am my own damn person!” 

“Of course you are, honey.” Show Pony said absently to Fun Ghoul, then levelled Jet with a stare again. “I bought him fair and square,” they said. “What can you give me?” 

Jet thought. “Power Pup?” “Hate the stuff.” “A new jacket?” “Do I look like I need any fashion from you?” “Fair. Uh, A back rub?” “Jet Star, if you want me just say so. No deal.” “Shit. We can get your roller skates new wheels?” “Now you’re getting warmer.” 

Jet wracked his brain. Fun Ghoul was watching, very amused. He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Jet pointed toward the Trans Am, where Party and Kobra were waiting in the front seat. “I can give you Party Poison.” 

“I already have Party Poison in all the ways that matter,” Show Pony responded. They raised their voice, shouting to the car. “Don’t I, sweet thing?” 

Party stood up through the sun roof. “They do.” He sat back down. Jet sighed. 

“Ghoul, just get in the damn car or I’ll break all your bombs and have Kobra bury the parts where the sun don’t shine.” 

“See what I have to deal with, Pony?” Ghoul whined, leaning exaggeratedly into Show Pony’s side, wrapping his arms around their middle. 

“It’s just awful, darling.” Show Pony crooned. Ghoul grinned wickedly at Jet. He was playing a game, and Fun Ghoul played to win. But so did Jet Star, and he had a secret weapon. It was time to break out the big guns.

“Well gee, Ghoul, what am I going to tell Angel Face?” Ghoul froze, and Jet knew he had an in. “You know, she was the one who noticed you were gone in the first place.” 

“She was?” Ghoul asked, voice suddenly higher. 

“You bet your ass I was!” Baby Girl appeared from behind Jet, hands fisted against her hips. Her tiny face was creased in rage. “’Cuz you hadn’t been running your damn mouth for ten seconds! C’mon.” 

She grabbed Ghoul by the hand and tugged him all the way back to the Trans Am, verbally abusing him the whole time with some very creative swear words until she had gotten him into the backseat and sat firmly on his lap. Show Pony slid up to Jet on their skates, grinning blissfully and blindingly.

“What a charming young lady.” 

[undermattsun-archive]

tell me

(skate rat) miyas x fem!reader | w.c 1.6k

a/n: ok look i’m no brother fucker on main, but the lewding potential post-show me was too delicious, and if i’m not an opportunistic whore... so here it is the pt 2 y’all keep screaming about that i actually started writing no more than two hrs after posting show me bc i have no self control

another big thankies to @sugardaddykenma for giving this a read over big fat wet besitos for u

18+ university | please read ALL warnings

warnings: INCEST full on (i’m sorry god), dubcon/noncon elements, fingering, overstimulation, dumbification (lowkey), degradation, manipulation, a dash of gaslighting, a bit of humiliation, virginity loss (mentioned), crybaby!reader, little bit of mind break, reader is tired + slurs words a bit

just...them taking advantage of dumb reader

read show me first! (not necessary but appreciated + it would make more sense to do so) NOW with the third part make me !!

One hour, twenty-six minutes and who knows how many seconds have gone by since your brothers have decided to go into an entire good cop, bad cop tirade.

Their words barely making a dent in your mind as a soreness settles in your bones, the added discomfort of a mixture of sweat, saliva and cum drying on your skin with the debauched feeling of Kita’s cum dripping from your sore cunt keeping your mind thoroughly distracted.

“You’re never gonna see him again.” Atsumu-nii barks out.

“It’s better that way.” Osamu-nii adds gently.

“In fact he’s dead next time we see him.”

“Yeah, very much dead.”

“We told him to stay away from you, fuck.” Atsumu flops down beside you, Osamu follows sitting on your other side.

“It’s not that big of a deal.” You mumble, regretting your words the second you see the look in your brothers’ eyes.

“Not that big a deal?” Atsumu’s voice is no more than a low growl as he rises, eyes narrowing at the statement. “Kita’s a fucking bastard and you just let him between your legs like it was nothing. Are you stupid?”

Your eyes widen at the accusation as you scoot away from him, drawing your knees to your chest, letting your eyes fall to the rumpled blankets surrounding you.

“You let him cum inside you?” A gasp falls from your lips, embarrassment scorches through you as you realize the way your bare cunt is exposed by the way you’re sitting. You immediately shoot back, slamming into Osamu as you squeeze your legs shut, dread filling your lungs as Atsumu crawls forward.

“Our little sister really is dumb. Is that what you’ve been up to while you’re away?” He’s always been faster than you, proven by how his fingers are already around your wrist, yanking you towards him. You know that struggling is a moot point, he’s bigger and faster and so much stronger. But you can’t help but wiggle around, barely able to make him budge even a centimeter.

“No! That was my first...” you bite your tongue as Atsumu crosses his legs and seats you in his lap, your back pressed against his chest as he snakes an arm around your waist. He rests his chin atop your head, a thoughtful hum vibrating in his chest against you.

“Hear that Samu?” Atsumu squeezes you tightly as your eyes frantically dart around Osamu’s features, silently begging for him to free you from this situation.

“Yeah Tsumu, she really gave up her virginity to Kita.”

“Like an idiot.” They muse in unison.

“I- but-”

“But nothing. Now your nii-chan’s need to clean you up. Stupid little girl.” He mutters against your hair, smoothing his hands over your thighs, spreading them apart more and more. Stretching them until they’re caught by his knees, rendering you helplessly exposed.

“Umm.” Your legs twitch, the position all too embarrassing, the powerlessness of it parallel to when you were being held by Kita. Taboo, the position screams.

“It’s okay, dumb girls like you make mistakes all the time,” Osamu smiles gently, shifting over to lift the hem of your shirt, handing it to Atsumu keeping it pinned just above your belly button, “that’s why you have us.”

Confusion swirls as you watch your older brother's fingers disappear into his mouth, eyes watching as his tongue flicks over the digits, retracting them slowly.

“Ah! Wait!” You yelp out as he pushes his index and middle fingers past your puffy hole, a stinging pleasure making the taut muscles of your thighs twitch. Atsumu lets out another low laugh, steadying your legs, forcing you to keep still as Osamu continues to prod further. The blunt ends of his fingers pressing and dragging against the sore gummy walls.

“Too much, too much.” You gasp as Osamu’s fingers dig further into your cunt, shaking as you feel the tips of fingers brush against your cervix. Fat tears begin to roll down your face as you press harder back into Atsumu, as if you could find escape in the rigid planes of his body. 

His fingers continue to twist and scour, the sensation is all too overwhelming, making your throat tighten as you make futile attempts at clamping your legs shut, only making Atsumu snicker above you. You watch with panting breaths as Osamu finally draws out his fingers, covered in the milky white slick, evidence of the sins you committed just a few hours before. 

“What a sloppy cunt, you really let him make a whore of you huh?” Atsumu bites, the words cut into you, the betrayal in his voice making your throat tighten further. You can only manage to choke out a broken sob of a denial as Osamu brings his fingers against your lips.

“Say ‘ah’.” You shake your head frantically, face quickly being caught in Osamu’s other hand.

“Don’t be difficult, we’re helping you.” Disappointment, the disappointment crumbles what little fighting spirit you had in the first place, you can’t stop the tears from falling as you let Osamu slip slicked fingers into your mouth. Lazily you swirl your tongue around them, exhaustion starting to sweep over you. 

“All good?” Atsumu asks as Osamu pulls his digits from your mouth, smiling proudly at you.

“Let me make sure.” He lowers himself more onto the bed, bringing him face to face to your dripping cunny, he plants a hand against the taut muscle of your thigh, staring so intently at your twitching hole. “So fuckin messy.” It’s the closest to warning you get as he pushes his fingers back in, the yelp you let out sounding pitiful even to you. 

“We shouldn’t, d-do this.” You grip at Osamu’s arm, but it’s as if each tug you make has no effect. There isn’t a purpose to his motions, his fingers pumping in and out of you with reckless abandon, the wet, lewd sounds filling the room. 

“‘M just helping you.” Osamu breathes out, hot breath fanning over your sensitive cunt. With each push of his fingers you feel as though your whole body has been thrown under an unwavering waterfall, every stroke of his fingers feeling like the ruthless waters beating down on you. 

“Yeah, you’re the idiot who went and fucked Kita Shinsuke of all people.” Atsumu chides, running a hand across your belly, lips tickling the shell of your ear. He pulls one of your hands off of Osamu, intertwining your fingers, securing your hand against your heaving chest.

“M’Not an idiot.” Your panting whines swirling with the soft wet clicking made by his digits in your cunt punctuating your shame, your words weakly slurred together. “Samu-nii n-n’more.”

“Hm? What was that?” He teases his ring finger against your entrance, viciously scissoring his index and middle, making your body stiffen, the pain of overstimulation surging violently chased with flecks of pleasure. 

“Pretty sure she said more Samu.” Atsumu goads, slipping his other hand underneath your shirt to massage your tender breasts, the endless waves of exhaustion leaving you unable to deny yourself melting in his hold.

“More it is.” Without the slightest of stutters in his motions he stuffs in his ring finger, forcing your back to arch at the sting, the throbbing of your cunny is gut wrenching but the delicious curl of Osamu’s fingers is undeniable.

“Shlow down.” Your tongue feels thick in your mouth, head lolling back, knocking into Atsumu’s chin as you stare down with blurry vision at Osamu’s fingers disappearing into your wet heat.

“Think our little dummy means speed up, right sis? You wouldn’t want Samu to miss any leftover cum from your little slut stunt.” 

“I-I don’t?” You mumble, trying to crane your head to meet Atsumu’s gaze, the disconnect of his words is disorienting as you continue to slip into worn out haze.

“Of course not, that’s what we’ve been telling you.” He releases your hand in favor of sliding his hand up to grip at your jaw, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Hey Samu I think you can fit a fourth.”

“Yeah, me too.” Atsumu presses your head against his, leaving the two of you cheek to cheek as your eyes widen at the sight of your brother’s pinky swiping besides your entrance.

“Won’t fit.” 

“It will.” Osamu looks up at you, the familiar lazy half smile almost comforting as he begins to work his fourth finger into your thoroughly abused cunt. A jolt of biting pain mottled with bliss erupts through you. The feeling of being utterly stuffed, pushed past whatever limits you had, leaving you unable to even focus your eyes or make sense of whatever Atsumu whispers against you. 

The entirety of your body feels like an exposed nerve, as if you’ve been left out in the sun too long, simultaneously hyper aware and numb of all the little touches and strokes across your flesh. You can feel Osamu steadily pick up the pace with each thrust of his fingers, each stroke as if he’s trying to dig deeper, as if he’s trying to make your cunny memorize the shape of each finger. 

“Tsu-tsumu-niii, I thiiink…” Whatever comment you had is lost in your throat, the tiniest caress of Osamu’s thumb against your clit has your mind going blank, the entirety of your body coiling tightly, a mangled whine preempting the feeling of yourself gushing around Osamu’s fingers. Your body spasms, held tightly in Atsumu’s arms as you squeal out at Osamu unwilling to relent his movements, continuing to piston his fingers with reckless abandon.

“Enough, Ssamu enough.” Your vision goes spotty, watching with jagged breaths as he gradually withdraws. You spiral into unconsciousness one last shiver wracking through you as you watch him bring his fingers up to his lips, licking a stripe up his coated fingers. A dastardly grin the last thing you see as you black out.