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takes1 · 3 months ago

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tsukishima and yamaguchi are incapable of sharing you

is this a big metaphor? maybe. i dunno. it's steamier this way. read between the lines or something. two weeks of having a cold? or covid? or the flu? idk what it was but it burnt me outttttt

warnings. suggestive, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / suggestive fluff / love triangle? love shape? / fighting over reader / unrequited crushes / suggestive touching / touch starved!tsukki / touch starved!yamaguchi / sports massage, hot / best friends / girls team!reader / sadomasochism clawed its way into my fluff fic / tsukki is transactional / boyfriend material!yamaguchi / brotherzoning, friendzoning / daichi has canon aura / 4.1k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines.

"Oh, wow--," Tsukishima's cruel and quiet snicker at your expense was inevitable. He pushed one side of his headphones off of his ear.

His brow raised in amusement at your exaggerated wobble, how you were unable to stand on your own.

Yamaguchi kept his arms stretched out for you to grab and help yourself up, a master at utilizing any excuse he could to hold you.

"Isn't this- I dunno- kind of excessive?"

He sighed, palms flat against your back as you stumbled into his chest.

He expressed no real urgency to let you go. The guy was -generally- touchy with all of his friends, so it was never worth raising any color flag over.

"We-- hah-h," You gripped his forearm when you tried to take another excruciating step on your own. You sunk to the floor so fast he didn't even think to try and catch you.

It spurred another rare, genuine laugh from Tsukishima.

You cleared your throat with some attitude, and attempted to gather your dignity before trying to get up again.

"-We did lose."

Now, especially, you could truly appreciate his tendency to help. This practice had been group punishment for losing your last big game.

Sparing the gruesome details, it left most of the first-years in horrible condition. Even the more experienced girls on the team were ambling away at a slower pace, wincing, under the weight of their own bodies and struggling to take one step down from the gymnasium.

"(Y/n)!!"

You all stiffened. That was Michimiya's voice- you thought all the upperclassmen had gone, but she popped her head out from the exit and sounded just as intimidating as usual.

"Yes ma'am?" You called, a grimace all over your face.

The two boys shifted further away. They weren't technically supposed to be here, yet, and kept their heads tilted to the floor, expecting to be scolded for not going straight home.

"Head to the training room and roll your legs out-- I need you better before Friday! You two--," She hesitated before telling them to leave, vaguely aware that you were all buddies. "Help her, please."

"Yes ma'am!!"

Just like that, she was gone. Your eyes were shining. You were needed. For the team.

"Oh my gosh..." You bit your lip.

"That's awesome!" Yamaguchi laughed, excited for you. If Daichi had told him something like that, he'd be over-the-moon happy.

Tsukishima crossed his arms, unable to relate, and now tied to this place even longer.

He didn't validate your silent request to be helped. He only came across as cruel, but his real reason was objectively worse.

Thankfully, Yamaguchi was there to fill in the gaps of his awkward, ill-timed difficulty. You smiled at his light concern, an 'okay' of sorts to let him know he could find your condition funny, too.

"Th-anks-- hh-ah... shit,"

It was so much worse now. You wished you had listened to your teammates, to not sit down ten minutes ago, no matter how much you felt like you needed to.

Tsukishima watched, hands deep in his pockets with no intention to be of free service. That sound of struggle was almost as satisfying as hearing you ask for help.

You didn't let go of his hands for a few seconds. The weight of your body was a lot to handle- you kept his palms squeezed hard in yours and were beyond grateful he stayed, unbothered by it.

They were technically tasked with getting you to the training room, but you only had faith that Yamaguchi would see it through. Tsukishima might go as far as to get on the first train home, all alone, because that's how much he hated waiting on other people.

Yamaguchi, however, shared in your experience. His eyes were bright and his smile always waiting to agree, or laugh, or ask you something.

"Can ya walk?" He giggled.

His freckled hands stayed, attentive, at your sides, as you laughed with him and tried.

Moving was doable, but only in little, shuffle-y, painful, half-steps. Your hamstrings were like guitar strings, pulled too tight from your ass to your knees, your quads as stiff as set concrete, and everything was burning hot to the touch. You worked up another sick sweat, just moving 20 steps.

The two friends shared a look as they slowed down for you. It was worse than they thought- and though they had confided in you earlier, telling you that this was normal, they weren't exactly sure anymore. They hadn't yet been pushed this hard at their own team practices (they actually won their games).

Tsukishima's chortle was mean, targeted, in nature.

"Am I gonna have to carry you?"

Your exhaustion blocked any of your usual retaliation. The suggestion was, unironically, very appealing. He had to ability to take some pain away and was 'offering.'

"Oh!" You groaned, palm on your hip after taking a few tiny steps to get to the wall, "Would you? Please?"

It caught him off guard for an imperceivable second.

He rolled his eyes, his fair skin inadequate cover for the blush you had inspired.

Yet, always the master of masking his emotions, he swung his body in the direction of the training room to evade suspicion, instead, "Hell no."

The multiuse training room was thankfully spared of any life, except for you three clowns. There wasn't even the athletic trainer, paid to stay later for hurt athletes. Most teams were finished up already and all the gear -the weights, the tires, the specialty equipment- was in its proper place.

You glanced to Tsukishima, who was second to make the connection that this was an even bigger waste of his time-- unable to take the sound of him picking on you again, you waved your hand at him, dismissive at his catty sigh.

"You can go home, Tsukki, I know you've got better things to do."

Yamaguchi smirked at the light pink that dusted the fair tips of his ears. He followed close behind you towards the mats, near the recovery gear.

'Reverse-psychology' almost always worked on him, outside of a match.

"Pff- whatever," He cleared his throat, shoving his hands even deeper into his pockets, "It's not a big deal or anything."

It was, in fact, a big deal.

You couldn't take even the softest of featherlight touches, or stretches, or damn near anything that was suggested by your teammates to try.

"You can't just give up," Yamaguchi said, softly, trying to encourage you to try the massage gun again.

"You're just being a crybaby--," Tsukishima shrugged, as if he didn't insult you, and took the thing in his hand, "If you can't do it, one of us should."

Without a second of hesitation, you swiped it from him. That thing was a weapon, with the wrong head attachment and in the hands of somebody with as little sympathy as him.

"Yamaguchi-!" You grew warm, handing it to the nicer of the two, "If- um, one of you has to do it for me. I want Yamaguchi to."

It was the most efficient tool for the job prescribed to you. Break up the lactic acid, promote healing, warm the muscle up for some stretching.

That list seemed so much simpler when pain was not part of the picture.

Having one them subject you to forced recovery was, regrettably, more doable than trying it on yourself. That didn't mean that it was easy.

Yamaguchi knelt atop your legs whilst you lay on your stomach, trying his best to ignore your pleas (as you had asked of him). He kept your leg still as he prodded the machine into your damaged tissue.

It was excruciating. Why did you play this sport?

"Stop-stopstopstop!!"

At last, your begging was met with a precious grain of sympathy. Yamaguchi looked nothing short of conflicted, unable to help without hurting you, but unwilling to let you leave without doing what needed to be done.

He gritted his teeth and looked back at you- to check if you were okay, because you weren't saying anything.

The rapid rise and fall of your ribcage was all he needed to see.

"I'm sorry- I-I can't--,"

He groaned, not knowing what to do, and set the massage gun down by your left leg.

"Oh- my- godddd." The blond boy groaned, horribly impatient in an instant.

The sound of the machine getting turned back on made you jump, but you got squished down before you could even think that there was a need to move faster.

Tsukishima sat backwards on top of you. He wasn't using his entire weight but it was enough to keep you immobile in the ways that mattered. Your muscles seized against your will at the primal realization that he was not going to be nearly as gentle or attentive.

Your shrieking become muffled in your sleeves, but it would've gone just as ignored if you hadn't taken that initiative.

"What are you doing?" Yamaguchi sighed, a bit mean and confused at how he just took over instead of talking about it first.

If he was doing something wrong, he at least wanted the chance to fix it. But that wouldn't fly in this company. Tsukishima was never the type to give people, even his best friend, that much faith.

"I wanna go home dude. I'm--,"

His pressure on the inside of your calf sent you into a full-on seize. He flew to keep your ankle to the ground with a pissed off groan and a heavy thump.

"-Getting- this done."

"You don't have to help!"

Yamaguchi was technically yelling at him, but it didn't sound like it. His voice was raised, a tiny bit louder than the massage gun, and that was about it. It was almost impossible for him to come across as angry. Maybe passive-aggressive, which was, admittedly, jarring enough.

He was met with a signature scoff but didn't back down from it. Yamaguchi had too many reasons not to shy away. If he was that bothered by staying longer, he could go home alone. The chance to hang out with you alone, not to mention the perfect opportunity to touch you, wasn't lost on either of them. Tsukishima knew about his feelings for you. Until now, it was never a topic that needed to be explicitly addressed.

Tsukishima threw a narrowed, cold look through his lashes to him.

That was oh-so-intentional, and a painful thing to process as he barks at you to stop whining so much. His hands are giant, wrapped all the way around your shins, weighing you further down so you can't kick.

You were almost getting used to it- how much it hurt- as you feel Yamaguchi settle next to you and place a reassuring hand on your back.

You're panting, hoarse and labored- you were going to thank him, but Tsukishima makes his way up to your hamstring and you flinch again with your face slammed back into your arms.

"Augh-! Dude!! Ha--Ah!"

Absolutely no remorse in his voice, "Tadashi, c'mere and hold her ankle. I can't do both."

They shared another charged glare behind your back, but Yamaguchi wasn't going to intentionally make things more difficult than they had to be. He wanted to go home too, and wanted you to feel better quicker- this was a necessary evil.

Part of your hoodie sleeve was soaking wet from where you were biting down, grimacing. You were slick with cold sweat, trembling, and could not wrap your head around how torturous this whole ordeal had become.

For a moment, just one tiny, fleeting moment, he took the machine off and you were able to gasp in a non-labored breath. He adjusted to sit on top of your butt (without asking if you were comfortable) and slipped a warm hand between your thighs to grasp your inner leg to keep you still. Yamaguchi's grip on your ankle felt after that- harder.

The pleasant sensation it sent down into your tummy became quickly interrupted by the worst of it.

"Mm-h-!!" You groaned into your clothes.

"Ohh- yeah, you're fucked," Tsukishima laughed in shock at how he could feel the tension, the spasms, under the skin once he placed that godforsaken thing back onto you.

You mostly blocked the rest of the experience out of your mind- it was nauseating, and long, and arduous. Tsukishima made no efforts to make the process any easier by asking you what you wanted, if you needed a break, or if you were okay.

It made the last of it that much sweeter. The training room was quiet, again, once the buzzing was gone.

"That should do it," He muttered, pushing the heel of his palm down the now compliant, though aching, muscle of your hamstring. It was practically mindless.

"Y-eah-," Yamaguchi rolled his eyes at the shameless display.

Tsukishima glanced at him. He cleared his throat and pinched you, just for good measure, then decided for you, "Yeah, that feels better."

You rolled your cloudy eyes just to yourself, unable to lift your head from your weak arms.

"Okay! Jeez! Get off of me."

Another ill-intentioned snicker was almost enough to make you look back. It, instead, only motivated you to tense up your shoulders.

"Did you forget that you have a second leg?"

Yamaguchi would've laughed with him, had he not been so pissed off that he was getting- for lack of a better word here- cucked.

Barely able to peel your chest up off of the ground, you huffed and pushed the stagnant tears from your face.

"You are not doing that again!"

It was another way of saying that you couldn't take it, which, in his twisted mind, was reason enough to smile. He had to adjust himself pretty plainly in front of his freckled, grumpy friend before getting off of you.

You rolled, heavy and slow, onto your back, and didn't spare him any looks. You spoke to the ceiling. "I'll do my own calf. Tadashi,"

His face was softer, attentive, at how you sighed his name. Every word afterward was a lot sweeter, lighter, than the ones that were meant for Tsukishima.

"You get my other hamstring. I can't reach it."

Now 'unemployed,' Tsukishima reclined against his bag, pushed his headphones up, and played on his phone.

You flipped back onto your tummy and pulled down on the hem of your shorts, for some bit of decency. All it did was make Yamaguchi's eyes wander. Tsukishima had already been stealing crystal clear glances.

Those practice shorts left little to the imagination, especially hiked up the way you liked to wear them for training. It did not go underappreciated in this group.

Yamaguchi tried not to stare- he really, really tried. His eyes were bouncing back and forth between where to adjust over you, and where he desperately wanted to cop a feel. It's just that you were turned around, with no way of knowing, and there was nothing too wrong with looking.

Neither of them were bold enough to bring up that your glutes -realistically- were the most worked muscle group that needed to be attended to.

Yamaguchi mirrored his hand placement to where Tsukishima had done it, earlier. He was not prepared at how intimate it felt at all, because his friend had given zero indication that it was such a big deal.

You flinched at the contact even though it was hundred times softer than you had been touched earlier. His palm was unsure, and varied in firmness as he tried to palm your thigh the 'right' way. You were grateful nobody -especially that blond idiot- could see how embarrassed you were, as you buried the side of your face harder into your clothes.

"I'm gonna try to be less gentle- so," He lost his train of thought, captivated in the sight of your softness filling the gaps of his long, tanned fingers, "Um... yeah."

Not-gentle was a good way to describe that massage gun on your stiff leg. But it wasn't a stabbing pain, like how forcefully and suddenly Tsukishima had started.

And yet, you couldn't help the reflex to bend at the knee, and almost nailed him with a powerful kick.

"A-ah! Sorry--," You couldn't quite get the apology out, between gritted teeth.

Since Tsukishima had been too busy peeking out of the corner of his eye to admire the space between your legs, the curve of your ass, and all the shaking, he was quick to grab that free ankle and pin it down.

They shared a mutually surprised expression behind you that, if anything, helped ease their nasty, competitive, and degrading attitudes.

Yamaguchi's face was very warm, his legs, his grip, had to be readjusted-- his fingers felt indescribably good in the midst of so much discomfort. He put more of his weight on you, having underestimated how much you might throw him off.

Neither of the two were saints, but if it were a competition, Yamaguchi at least tried to repress things.

He wanted to be seen as good, as nice, and sweet. Getting brother-zoned all the time sucked but at least it spoke to his positive qualities.

Tsukishima did not care all that much about looking like a good person. Being 'cool' was different, and just as performative, but still, different. He had less internal struggle when it came to checking you out behind your back; his only worry was getting caught, because it made him look interested. Being interested, to Tsukishima, was worse than being a 'nice guy.'

All that to say: He pushed your ankle a bit further to the outside, craning his neck to see just how much those safety shorts actually covered down there.

If he could get Yamaguchi to move his hand out of the way--

"You're doin' it wrong," He sighed, sounding flat- bored, even though he wasn't.

You spared Yamaguchi the responsibility of responding to him.

"You're- ahh- ridiculous, Kei. Fucking-- ridiculous."

His nose wrinkled at your assertion that he could possibly be wrong, "The fact that you can talk is evidence enough."

That made your face multiple degrees hotter, and kept you biting a rude reply into your shirt- it pissed your nicer friend off, on your behalf.

"Dude, shut up," Yamaguchi mumbled.

It was ironically something that sounded like it would come out of Tsukishima's mouth, in tone and phrase. He could've told either of you to shut up at any given moment, on any given day, and it wouldn't be a big deal. Coming from Yamaguchi, though--

The blond stiffened, his mouth curled into an absurd grin, but his eyes were fixed and brutal behind his glasses.

All the implications under their words, their jagged tones, were so plain and out in the open. To them. You remained disadvantaged, partially deaf (from the loud massage gun) and mostly blind (turned around), still preoccupied with your physical inability to stay on their conversational level or that emotional space.

To you, they were only trying to help, and the situation had not degraded so much.

You were busy thinking about how Tsukishima could not have been more wrong about Yamaguchi's 'technique.' The pressure had grown, making for a more intense experience than before, with all the new compensation.

An awful, bitter comeback was on the tip of Tsukishima's tongue.

"Woah!" A new voice, one you didn't quite recognize, was at the entrance to the training room, "What're you three still doing here? It's late!"

"Daichi!" Yamaguchi sighs, breathless, for a couple of different reasons.

You winced at his weird readjustment on top of you- and the terrible, sinking feeling that this was inappropriate and semi-public.

Was there no safe place for a bunch of underclassmen to hang out anymore? Since when did the seniors linger for this long? They usually were the some of first out the door, and the guys' team had been done for almost an hour, now.

His grip softens, flittering away, for a moment. A rush of strength finds his legs and he's safely hovering, instead of sitting, on you.

"Oh! Taking turns with the gun? Man-," Even his laugh is leader-like, all punctuated and deep, "Must be pretty bad, huh?"

When he clocks that their captain isn't there to scold, he keeps one palm safely on the mat, instead.

"Do you--," You push yourself up to your elbows again with a groan and a scrunched up face. It helps, to reiterate that this is not some kind of debauchery, "-Have any advice?"

Daichi was there to return some gear. He placed a bag on the table closest to the door, then hung up some keys. All that you could think was how responsible he looked.

He hummed aloud to himself, "Advice...?"

Yamaguchi slowly moved off of you, so as to not look suspicious, but his nervous demeanor always made him look a little bit guilty of something. You waved off his soft apology in favor of staring, curious, at the new presence.

You were able to roll over to your back and sit up, with marked effort- then stilled as their team captain joined your spot on the mats.

He took a second to look between all three of you, face impossible to read, then seemed to recognize you.

"You must be that rookie Yui was talking about," He doesn't realize how important that off-handed statement means to you, "It's nice to meet ya."

"You too," Your voice was ghostly soft, eyes wide, when he sat down to take you through some handy stretches.

His team jacket looks really worn in. His thighs are giant from years of playing. He knows what he's talking about. And your two idiot friends are silent, for once, so he must be super cool. You listen very carefully.

"So, if it's just soreness that you're dealing with, what you wanna do is--,"

"Man-," Tsukishima mutters, an incomprehensible 'What the fuck,' under his breath at those stupid puppy dog eyes you were giving their team captain. Great.

He threw a glance to Yamaguchi- his face was all screwed up, pissed off, too. They looked at each other with mutual, gloomy attitude.

Little did they understand that Daichi could've broken this up in a less civil way if he deemed them as any less credible in their actions.

It was their 'harmlessness' that kept them spared from a talking-to.

You were slower to understand that you were infatuated. As your long-time friends, they often read you quicker than you could understand your own emotions. It had been three minutes since the last time you blinked, and you didn't realize it, yet.

His stretches, and little tidbits of advice, rang familiar but more memorable than the second-year's recovery tips from the end of your practice.

"Thank you," You muttered, uncharacteristically quiet.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes so far back, so slow, that Daichi caught it.

"Of course! Happy to help."

You watched the incredible lines in his legs dance as he stood up and briefly wondered if he had ever suffered like this, before. Surely the answer was yes.

"Well-- It's great seeing you all take care of each other. Hang onto that!" Daichi kept one last, somewhat reminiscent, look on the three of you, and was on his way to the door.

"Oh-,"

You shivered, holding yourself as he turned around.

"Make sure to lock up when you're done!"

When he was gone, the door fully shut, you collapsed onto your back with a dreamy sigh. Yamaguchi was the first to stand up.

He was disappointed that you were so easy to impress, yes, but otherwise unfazed.

"You guys wanna go get something to eat?"

Tsukishima got to his feet, too, and had his bag slung at the ready-- usually not so food-motivated, but he was starving, at this point. The sun was low in the window. You nodded at the great idea.

Head still tilted to the closed door, you asked, "Does- uh, does he... have a girlfriend?"

Yamaguchi avoided your eyes, an easy task at his height, and took both of your hands to lift you to your feet. It was solely out of curiosity. He was so out of your league.

Tsukishima rattled off a blatant and well-done lie.

"Yeah. He's dating Michimiya- you didn't know that?"

It helped to cushion your feelings. You nodded, smiling at the way Yamaguchi kept you steady again with his hands in yours.

"Ohh, right. Right. That makes sense."

☆VIP☆

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my masterlist. more haikyuu

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dewdropdinosaur · 9 months ago

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Kinktober Day 9: Praise Kink

Summary: You truly had meant no harm by your little plan, it was just to test a hunch: Lucifer loves praise. So, to possibly worm a blush or stutters out of the King of Hell, you concocted a week-long scheme that ended better than you anticipated. Warnings: Praise kink, use of pet names, mommy kink, dry humping, mentions of cum, and masturbation. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @minkdelovely MY FRIEND, CHECK THEM OUTTTTTT!!

Lucifer Morningstar was the epitome of cool confidence, at least to most of his subjects. Yet, there was one person who could unravel that confidence with just a few words: his girlfriend. You loved the way he ruled the underworld with charm and charisma, but you also knew there was a softer side to him that he rarely showed after Lillith disappeared.

You truly had meant no harm by your little plan, it was just to test a hunch: Lucifer loves praise. So in an effort to possibly worm a blush stutters out of the King of Hell, you concocted a week long scheme.

Day One:

The week began on a typical morning, you sauntered into Lucifer’s lavish office, where he was reviewing some paperwork, brow furrowed in concentration. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed with a playful smirk. “You know, I don’t think I tell you this enough,” you said, voice lilting with mischief.

Lucifer looked up, intrigued. “What is it, my dear?”

With a grin, you continued, “You’re not just the King of Hell; you’re the most incredibly handsome demon in existence!”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Oh, really?” His usual smirk faltered, and a slight blush crept up his neck. “That’s… quite a compliment.”

You chuckled, enjoying his flustered reaction, test results coming in clean.

Day Two:

The next day, Lucifer had decided to take you out to dinner. As you both settled into the booth, you couldn’t resist. “You know, I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have the most charming demon as my boyfriend,” you said, eyes sparkling.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a mock air of arrogance. “Oh, is that so? What makes me so charming?”

You leaned in closer, voice low and teasing. “It’s not just your looks, though those are dangerously distracting. It’s your wit, your intelligence, and how you handle even the worst of demons with such grace. Honestly, it’s quite impressive.”

He coughed slightly, the compliment taking him off guard. “You’re laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

“Just trying to keep you grounded, my king,” you winked, watching as he fumbled with his napkin, clearly flustered.

Day Three:

On the third day, you had joined Lucifer in a meeting with his demon advisors. As he began to outline his plans, you decided it was the perfect moment to throw him off his game. Leaning over to whisper quietly in his ear, you spoke. “I don’t know how you manage to be so persuasive, but you could convince me to do anything right now.”

Lucifer blinked rapidly, clearly taken aback., face flushed as he fiddled with his mess of papers. “Uh, yes, well… I do have my talents,” he stammered, glancing at youwith an expression that was a mix of surprise and embarrassment. His advisors exchanged smirks, and you couldn’t help but suppress a laugh.

Day Four:

On the fourth day, your plan was going perfectly. Lucifer was a stammering blushing mess and you felt like you had done the great job of being a girlfriend to show him how great he was. Walking down the expansive hallways of the palace, you were minding your own business, thinking of all the devious ways to make your partner blush. As you came across Lucifer’s door, you paused hearing vague noises from inside. While the noises were by no means alarming, faint thuds of the bed frame could be heard. Eyes widening, you barreled into the room, expecting to find Lucifer being attacked since he was King or some horrible overlord was going to—

Instead, you came upon the sight of your boyfriend in a rather…comprimising position. All the while you were complimenting your boyfriend, thinking it was cute and sweet; Lucifer would leave your little meetings and dry hump his pillow till kingdome come. Whining and mumbling incohereny praises as if the pillow was your tight little cunt, as if he could drill into it and make you feel as good as your deserved. He had not noticed your presence, so focused on the memories of your sweet praises as he desparetly sought relief in the silk fabrics.

Moving over to be next to the bed, you dragged a chair along with you; settling next to the king. With darkened eyes and finally seated, you grabbed Lucifer’s hand gently, breaking him from his trance. Eyes blown wide with embarrasment and lust, the startled king started to spit out apologies before you stopped him.

“Why don’t you come over here and sit in my lap mhm? They don’t have things as pretty as you in the rest of Hell.” Lucifer, nodding obendiently, crawled over into your lap, cock still free and weeping pre-cum from the tip. Smirking as he settled on your thigh, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his sweaty face. Cooing, you couldn’t help what took over you.

“Go on baby, you wanna feel good mhmm? Go ahead, help yourself…” Lucifer took his opportunity willingly, grinding in earnest on your thigh with small whimpers and lewd moans.

“That’s it baby, you look so pretty for me. So good for me, mhmm? Such a good boy.” The moan that parted from his lips at that phrase was nothing short of pornographic.

You lips move to his jaw, peppering kisses along the skin, teeth nipping at his jawline. He can feel his self-control slipping further with each passing second, how delicious the friction of your thighs were against his aching member. He's wanted this for so long, and now that he has it, he's not holding back. With each thrust and whispered praise from your sweet puffy lips, Lucifer could feel the peak of his release nearing. Speeding up, bucking his hips like a desperate whore into your legs, moaning and crying muffled sobs; you took one last little jab for your experiment.

“Let go my king, will you be good for mommy?”

The coil in his stomach snapped and Lucifer came all over your lap with a loud cry, his hands coming to grip your shoulders with a bruising force. Peering up at your with tear stricken eyes, lips formed in a small pout, Lucifer brought his hips to a halt; whinning at any overstimulating friction he recieved from the fabric of your clothing. Placing a soft kiss to his lips, you were met with eager lips and his tounge trying to get a taste of you.

You were certaintly in for a long night, not that you minded.

#hazbin hotel fandom #answered #romance #vizziepop #radio killed the video star #lucifer imagine #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel smut #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #hazbin hotel x reader #praise k!nk #hornyposting #help me this fandom has a hold on my soul

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tyler007sstuff · 6 months ago

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THE 7TH COMIS CAME OUTTTTTT

LESS GOOO

#tf2 #team fortress 2

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weepylucifer · 2 years ago

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harry bursting back in 3 weeks later: "i now have Queer Elder Advice for you!!! listen up. have you boys ever tried pissing on each other?"

steban: "don't ever be part of my book club ever again"

steban: "please i need advice from a Queer Elder™. how do i get ulixes to open up around me more? his shirt specifically"

harry who had not known he was a Queer Elder™ but will make that his whole personality for the next 3 weeks once he's done internalizing that thought: "look, unbutton your own shirt more and see if he mimics you. you know, since he's the echo maker"

steban: "he's the what"

#harry: i think mazov too appreciated a nice golden shower. this knowledge came to me in a dream #steban: get outttttt #ulixes: you can pee on me comrade

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grainsofexcellence · 5 months ago

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What happens when Agatha goes looking for a fake date on the buy nothing group? Let's find outttttt ;P

Agatha opened the first group that came up for her, her local buy nothing group. Because while she had left behind her poverty years ago – she was still that thrifty little poor kid at heart. She scanned the page and debated giving away her extra blankets to a woman collecting for a local animal shelter that had just had a fire. She had always loved animals, but the only ones she was allowed to have were the outside dogs, cats and horses on her family's broken farm. She made a quick note of the woman’s post and a reminder to collect some blankets for her that weekend.

She opened a new post and let her cursor blink at her while she thought about how to go about this. She knew this space probably wouldn’t be the avenue for this endeavor, but maybe she could get a good laugh out of the post.

“Greetings All, I seek someone to follow me on the road home for the holidays as somewhat of a stand-in woman in my life, to piss off my deranged mother. I can promise you front row seats to a family drama more interesting than reality shows and Christmas movies combined. An all expenses paid trip to my hometown with me for a week. I know this is last minute, but if you want to do something interesting with your holidays – give me a shout.”

She rolled her eyes – it wasn’t her best work, and yet, she hit post. She let herself pick up her laptop as she decided some hot chocolate and some very strong alcohol must be in order for reading through the comments that were sure to come.

She tilted her head as she found the expensive chocolate powder in the kitchen and wondered if this was more of a weed situation. She shrugged and continued on with her drink, grabbing a bottle of bourbon – she could get crossed, that seemed like a good evening plan. She had done it before with a good amount of success.

She stirred her drink and placed it in the microwave, her eyes moving back to her laptop that sat on her island counter. A man had responded – because of course one had. She leaned over as if she was luring her chest in his face, fucking with him. Well, if he could have seen her. She let her eyes take in his photo. Ah, so not even a man that would have been in her league.

She snorted and ignored the message. She heard the ding of her microwave and returned to get her drink, grabbing her laptop. She wandered into her living room and pulled out a blunt from her cabinet drawer. She sat in her recliner and set her laptop on her lap, took a sip of her drink and set her mug back down, staring at her weed. Her eyes landed on the lighter she needed across the room. She rolled her eyes. A ping had them drifting down to the post, a new man, better looking this time, was shooting his shot.

“You’re stunning, Gorgeous. I would love to accompany you home for the holidays.”

She groaned. “Well, apparently literacy is dead.” But what had she expected? That there might be some woman, some hot woman, that would want to accompany her home just to help her piss off her mother? Maybe she could settle for a stupid man, maybe there would be one that could piss off her mother, even if for a brief moment Evanora would think that Agatha had been “Cured”.

She moved her laptop and went to retrieve her lighter. Upon lighting up, she walked over to her window, cracking it open with force. She held the smoke in her lungs for as long as she could before she let it trickle out slowly. She let her eyes follow the trail of smoke as it blew towards her neighbor’s window, her lips ticking upwards into a smirk.

Mrs. Heart was going to have a field day when she figured out what the smell was and where it was coming from – but Agatha knew the woman would give it a good two hours before she would be able to identify the smell and come stomping over in the snow to confront her about her life choices. She swore it was as if her mother were around sometimes.

She smiled as she saw Mrs. Heart’s nose scrunch up in disgust through her partially open kitchen window. Coughing quickly as the smell must have hit her. Her voice growing frantic as she shouted for her husband to come quickly, a skunk must be outside! Her desires firm that he needed to go chase it away before it got in the house.

Agatha chuckled as she heard the man complaining loudly about how he didn’t want to get sprayed either. As they argued, Agatha took another long drag of the blunt and closed her eyes, letting the smoke fill her lungs and relax her body… and her mind. Both enjoying the moment of stillness.

A ping had her eyes flashing open, the smoke leaving her mouth in a whoosh that sent a cloud billowing from her window. She turned and set her joint down on an incense tray, as she made her way back to her computer. Her eyes ready to pop out of her head when she saw the most beautiful woman she had ever seen respond with a large photo of herself in a revealing black swimsuit.

“Oh, I’m all for pissing off mother’s. Give me a call. (or like a DM).”

Blue eyes scanned for a name. Rio Vidal. Ah, Spanish, she loved a bilingual girl.

She snorted after her eyes had devoured the picture. Had this woman really just posted a photo like that on the Buy Nothing page? She moved to hover her cursor over her name and hesitated before clicking on messaging her. Her self preservation attempting to kick in.

What if she was a psycho? Is this how she wanted to die?

She looked at the woman’s photo once more, and raised an eyebrow, happy with what she saw.

Honestly, how could she be mad at it? What a way to go.

Continue reading:

#pinkpillow19 #sapphic #agatha au #agathario #agatha all along #agatha harkness #evanora harkness #agatha x rio #rio vidal #aaa incorrect quotes #aaa #gay marvel #gay mcu #buy nothing or risk Kathy's Cookies #they are like crack #Rios had them... after sex

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