#tell me if you want me to tag it as such though

[nanaslutt]

• I will always catch you •

ʚ synopsis: You and Nanami play a game of tag, if he wins he spanks you

ʚ cont: fem reader, spanking, fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation

You stood with your hands perched on the back of the couch, your eyes not once straying from where they were glued to Nanami's opposite the couch from you, the only thing that separated the two of you besides the coffee table that sat in front of the couch. "Ten second headstart." You said, already feeling your heart start to pick up at the promise of Nanami chasing you around. 

You knew logically no matter how much time you asked for, he would always catch you in the end, but that's what you wanted, not that you would tell him that—even if he already knew. Nanami nodded, removing his hands from his pockets confidently, his mouth barely quirking up in a smile at the corners, the skin beside his mouth dimpling with it. "You won't catch me this time." Lie. "We'll see." Was his only reply before he raised his hands and started ticking down his fingers, letting you know he had started the timer.

You ran around the couch, passing him where he stood on the other side as you ran for the kitchen across the room, using the large island in the middle of it to separate him from you. It was your best bet to escape him for as long as possible, wait him out here, bait him to stalk you around the island, and shoot up the stairs for his office which had the only locking door in the house save for the bathroom, but that was too close to the kitchen, you needed more time to get away. 

You watched, eyes bright and heart racing as his fingers hit 1, then he closed his hand tightly, letting you know you were out of time before he started walking toward you calmly. Your smile grew larger the closer he got, as did his, though he was far more cocky and confident than yours which was playful and full of adrenaline. "Aren't you going to run, sweetheart?" Nanami asked, cocking his head to the side as he made his way to the kitchen, standing across the island from you.

"I told you I learned some new tricks, you won't catch me this time." You said confidently, moving slowly toward the corner of the island, trying to bait Nanami into following you. And sure enough, he did. He didn't reply to you, just started walking towards the side in which you were closest to him, making you walk away from him, the two of you slowly circling the kitchen island as you made your way back to the opening of the living room.

You knew not to avert your eyes to his and give away your plans, if he caught you looking towards the direction you were going to run, he would catch you—no doubt about it. Nanami was taller and faster, his long legs eating up the space between you like nothing whenever you ran from him, so you had to be smart about this. "We'll see if your tricks are enough." Nanami finally voiced, stopping in his tracks diagonal to you, him standing where you just were in the kitchen, your positions now reversed. 

You smiled at him in response, showing your teeth before you turned abruptly and took off sprinting across the living room. Your heart raced in your chest, the sound echoing through your whole body and making that the only thing you were able to hear. You wanted to turn around so bad and see how close he was, but you knew you couldn't afford to do so. You let out a laugh as you reached the banister on the stairs, gripping it tightly as you pulled yourself forward, using that momentum to run up them as quickly as you could. 

You tried not to think about how Nanami often went up the steps two at a time, so if he was running he could probably manage three or more... shit. Your adrenaline was still pumping, making you more assured of yourself as you reached the top of the stairs, sure he wasn't right on your tail. His office was in your sight already as you pushed off the wall and sprinted toward the end of the hall. You were mentally praising Nanami for his constant pushing to leave all doors in the house open unless they were being occupied so the air could flow freely between them, making it so none of the rooms were stuffy—meaning the door was wide open and all you had to do was grab that door and slam it like your life depended on it. 

You could only feel your own steps as you raced down the hall, surprised that he hadn't reached the top of the stairs yet, but that meant you had one, you finally had one. You reached the office and grabbed the handle before spinning yourself around and momentarily disorienting yourself before you were snatched into a pair of strong arms and hoisted over a shoulder with a scream of surprise. You felt like your heart was going to leap out of your chest and run away at the shock.

How had he got you so fast? You were sure he wasn't on your trail, but apparently, that had been wishful thinking. "Nanami!" You laughed, kicking your legs against him, trying to free yourself as he held you over his shoulder with an iron grip, his arm locked tightly around the back of your thighs so you couldn't wiggle out of his grasp. Your laugh was cut short when a harsh smack was left on your ass, the sting making you whip your hands back and cover yourself from him. 

Nanami swiftly kicked the door shut behind him and stalked over to his desk, wrenching your hands away from your ass easily in his grip. "This is my reward for catching you, hands down." He said calmly, the deep baritone of his voice making you shiver as he pulled you off his shoulder and spun you away from him, using his body to press you against the edge of his desk and pushing you down on it with his hand on the middle of your back.

You weren't able to resist his moves, the speed of his actions making your body more pliant than you would've liked. The papers on his desk crumpled under your chest as you tried to push yourself up so you could stand again, and maybe try to attempt to run away, though you never had been successful at that before. Kento grabbed your wrists with both his hands and locked them behind your back with strength only he could possess, freeing himself a hand as he kept you at his mercy, rubbing his free hand against the swell of your ass.

"The new trick you tried didn't work so well." Nanami cooed, stating the obvious and making your face feel hot as he rubbed your loss in your face. "Were you planning to lock yourself in my office?" He asked, sliding his hand up and down the side of your body, making your skin prickle under your shirt. "Yeah, I was close too." You said defiantly, trying to gain back even a little bit of your ego. You had been so sure of yourself and now look at the position you ended up in.

"Mmm," Nanami hummed, the deep sound of it in his throat making your legs part willingly for him as he pressed his knee against the inside of your thigh and made you spread them. "What were you planning to do once you were in here?" He asked, making you pause. You looked around his office, thinking on his words. I don't know, relish in your victory? Bait him through the door? Write taunting notes about how he's a loser and slide them under the door for him to read?

"What do you think would happen when you opened the door? You couldn't stay in here forever." He asked confidently. "I'd come out because I would have won." You said quickly, the answer obvious, "There is no time limit on the game." He said, his fingers pushing up the back of your shirt and sliding against the skin of your back, pushing the fabric against your arms that were locked behind your back. The gears in your head started turning as you considered his words. 

"What do you mean?" You asked, turning your head as far to the side as you could manage to look at him from under your lashes. "I will always catch you, you can't escape me." You opened your mouth to complain, to whine about how the game has been rigged from the start, how there was no way you could ever win, when a loud slap against your ass stopped your words from coming, a different sound escaping you. Your hands balled into fists as you wiggled back against him, trying to find relief against the sting that never came. 

"That's not fair." You pouted. Nanami huffed out a laugh before his large hand rubbed across your backside, his fingers finding the hem of your shorts before pulling them down to pool around your ankles. "No, it's not." He agreed, another harsh smack making contact with your skin, making you jump. Nanami's warm hand stayed against your flesh rubbingaway the pain as he pressed closer to you, his crotch pressed against your left thigh. "But you don't mind as much as you're trying to make me think you do." He said assuredly. 

You felt a tick of annoyance run through you before it was almost completely snuffed out by another slap of his hand, this one followed by two more in quick succession against your other cheek. "Why would you think that?" You sighed, trying not to pant through your words and give in to him as much as you wanted to. "This whole game has been rigged the whole time." You complained, your eyebrows shooting up when he pressed his knee against your clothed cunt, making you press try to press your legs together--an action that was stopped by his knee that was knocked into your own, keeping you spread. 

Nanami gripped your ass in his hand before leaning over you, massaging the fat of your backside as his weight crushed you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. He rut his hips against your thigh, letting you know how much he was enjoying his win before he pressed a kiss right under your ear. You shut your eyes, a gasp falling from your lips as all complaints left your brain, the only thing you could think of being the weight and scent of him as he consumed you entirely. 

"You like it when I chase you, but you like it when I catch you even more." He whispered against your ear, his voice making you clench around nothing. "You're so cocky." You breathed, making him breathe out a laugh before he placed a kiss on your neck, the top of your spine, your shoulder blade. You held your breath when his hand that gripped your flesh slid between your legs, your body welcoming him as you spread your legs wider for him.

You couldn't stop the gasp that fell from between your lips when he pushed aside your panties like they were never there and rubbed his fingers through your wetness before dragging them across your clit. "And you're soaked, sweetheart," Nanami replied, showing you just how right he was about how much you loved being caught by him. But you didn't need him to tell you that, you already knew. 

Nanami leaned back from crushing you with his body at the same time he slid his fingers back down to your entrance and pushed two thick fingers inside you like it was nothing—and it might've well been, his fingers getting swallowed up by your wet cunt with ease. The groan that left your lips made his cock twitch in response, the feeling of his hard length against the back of your thigh driving you crazy. 

He released your arms from being caged behind your back, which you immediately used to grab the edge of the desk to steady yourself. Just when you were about to beg him for more, he slapped you again, harder this time, your ass stinging at the impact while your pussy tightened around his fingers like a vice. Nanami echoed your moan with a groan of his own as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching of your cunt echoing throughout his office.

"I can feel how much you like it." Nanami groaned, his voice deeper and more assertive with his arousal prominent. "Fuck," You whined, wiggling your hips back to meet his thrusts." Smack, another slap making you whine, a fuzziness starting to build in your mind as he fucked you harder on his fingers. "Tell me how much you like it, honey." Nanami moaned, though it sounded more like a beg as he rubbed his hips harder against your ass, trying to relieve himself on you. 

"Kento," You whined, thrusting your hips back against him harder. A clinking of a belt and a zipper following the sound told you Nanami was ridding himself of his own pants. Another slap against your sore ass was all the motivation you needed to answer him, nodding against the desk. "I love it Ken, I love it, it feels so good." You whined, your clit throbbing at the lack of attention as you wiggled back, hoping he would relieve you soon. 

You cried out when he pulled his fingers out of you abruptly, "Shhh, don't cry-" His words ended as he slammed himself inside you in one thrust, the stretch and slight burn of the sheer size of him making your eyes roll back in your head as he started up a brutal pace inside you, giving you little time to adjust before his hand dropped to your clit just as you wanted while his other massaged your soon to be bruised ass. 

Without his knee between yours anymore, you were able to squeeze your thighs together around his hand as your orgasm wracked through your body, making you scream as he pounded it out of you, his cock hitting just the right spot inside your soft walls and prolonging your high as his expert fingers matched pace with his thrusts on your clit. "K-kento-" You whined, one of your hands wrapping around his wrist that kept rubbing your oversensitized clit, the pleasure of it bordering on pain. 

"I know, I know, honey." Nanami cooed, his voice soft but his actions a stark contrast as he slapped your ass twice, once on each cheek, never once faltering his rough thrusts inside you, "You have to let go, sweetheart. Let go of my hand." He instructed, making you shake your head back and forth violently, only resulting in his fingers rubbing faster back and forth along your clit, it was almost too much.

"T-too much, Kento- f-fuck-" You cried, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you tried to lean forward to escape the pleasure, but he just followed you with his thrusts, knocking hard into your g-spot each time he slammed inside you. "No, it's not, Iknow what you can take." He replied dismissively, massaging your ass in a circle. The two of you had a safeword that had been long established and never used, and you weren't thinking about using it now, so maybe he was right, maybe he did know how much you could take.

You simply whined in response, feeling another orgasm quickly creeping over you, no escape from it in sight. "Let go of my hand, sweetheart, I won't ask again," Nanami said through a groan, his hand briefly coming up to cradle your cheek in a sweet gesture before he slid it back down your body and slapped the back of your thigh. The niceness of his words and the roughness of his actions made it hard to combine them into one person, you almost wanted to curse him out for sounding so unaffected but you knew he wasn't fairing much better than you.

The small sounds of him grunting and cursing under his breath told you exactly how he was doing. Kento's thrusts started losing their rhythm as he lost himself inside you. Begrudgingly, you let go of his hand, your own shaking as you placed it back on the edge of the dest, your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping it. "Good girl, I have you, I-I'll take care of you." The sound of Nanami's words getting choked off by a groan made your clit throb under his fingers. It was a fucking headrush knowing how much this man lost himself to you. 

"Please-" You begged, unsure of what you were asking for but knowing you weren't going to last much longer. "Let it out, I'm right behind you." Nanami nodded, leaning over your body and wrapping an arm under your stomach, pulling your back tightly to his chest as he humped his cock in and out of you, the stretch and loss of him with each thrust making you go a little dumb in the head each time. 

"Cum-" You weren't even able to finish your sentence as you came with a cry at the same time Nanami placed his lips on your cheek and kissed softly, trailing those kisses over your shoulder and neck as his fingers and cock worked in perfect harmony to draw your orgasm out of you. "Coming, I'm coming- oh my god-" Kento groaned through his teeth, his hair tickling your face as he buried his head in your neck and ground his hips flush against yours. 

The circular movement of Kento's hips against your ass made your legs shake with sensitivity as his fat tip rubbed against your g-spot as he emptied his balls inside you. A warmth filled you from the inside out with each kick of his cock as he came, rope after rope of his seed filling you just like he did every time he fucked you. A loud, low, continuous groan left his throat as his balls throbbed with his release, his fingers finally ceasing their rubbing against your clit as he went still, basking in his orgasm while keeping himself inside you. 

You reached a shaky, weak amr behind you and grabbed the back of his neck, gently scraping your nails up along his neck and trimmed undercut of his hair. Nanami hummed in satisfaction before he lifted his head and found your lips with ease, kissing you gently and lovingly, like the two of you had all the time in the world and nothing would ever separate the two of you. 

He pulled away and looked at you, a content expression on his face. He leaned in to press one more kiss against your eyelid before he pulled back entirely, smoothing his hands down your sides as he pulled out of you, making the both of you moan at the missing contact of the other. You already wanted to whine about how empty you felt, but you knew you could have him whenever you wanted so that feeling didn't last long.

"My ass hurts." You complained, breaking the silence as you were now finally able to feel the full extent of his actions without a clouded mind. Kento laughed as he pulled your panties back in their rightful place, keeping his cum stuffed inside you as he patted his fingers over your cunt before dropping down and sliding your shorts up your legs. "I'm sorry, my love. I'll take responsibility." He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

"You gonna massage my ass all night?" You asked, pushing your body up and leaning against the back of the desk, not yet ready to fully rely on your shaky legs yet. "Of course, I was the one who bruised it after all." Kento nodded as he buckled his belt back into place before stalking forward and caging you in with his body. You wrapped your arms around his neck like you've done a thousand times and let him lean in to kiss your neck, his hands wrapping around your waist to help you stand.

"Good." You said, relishing in his kisses before speaking up again, grabbing ahold of his face and pulling him back so you could look at him properly before you asked your question. "Was the game really rigged this whole time or were you just saying all that to be sexy?" Nanami smiled at that, his own hands grabbing your cheeks as he placed a kiss to the top of your head, to lessen the blow of his inevitable answer you knew was coming. " You know it is, I will always catch you." 

[syoddeye]

souvenir

soap x reader | ~1k words tags: established relationship, semi-public sex, fingering, dubcon recording (photos) a/n: couldn't stop thinking about this, so.

“John—Johnny—Can’t, please, Christ on the cross—” 

Your whisper hisses out with a reedy whine on its heels, a boiling kettle left on a burner. Heat licks up your spine and stomach on twin tracts before rushing southward again, not unlike the drop tower you’d ridden on half an hour ago. Before this, before Johnny begged you to hop into the photo booth for a ‘quick one’. How naive you are to think your insatiable boyfriend meant a quick photo.

You’ve been on his lap for all of ten minutes, back to his chest, and he’s already working a third finger between your legs. There’s no prying yourself loose. You tried. He laughed at your blunt nails, then groaned something sinful when you reached back to yank his hair.

He noses your temple as his ring finger joins its neighbors, groaning at the slight give, the reflexive and pulsing clench. “There she is, knew she wanted it.” His tongue dips into the sensitive divot behind your ear. “She’s fuckin’ perfect, so fuckin’ tight every time.”

In your apartment, in bed, you’d swat him for that. He knows you hate it when he talks about your pussy like it’s a whole fucking person, some independent entity conveniently attached to you. Says it to get under your skin as if he doesn’t take up prime real estate in your life, doesn’t course through your bloodstream. Here, in a public place, Johnny knows you’ll keep quiet, though. He might be shameless, but you definitely are not.

You clamp your hand tighter around his forearm and stifle a moan with the other as he furiously thrusts his digits, slowing only to grind the heel of his hand to your clit. The lewd clap of his fingers into your pussy is wet. Probably dripping onto the floor with how he's angled you in his lap. 

The infuriating idiot has the gall to tut, his voice adopting a patronizing tone. “That’s right, hush now, don’t want to let people hear, right? Gettin’ off like this—we’re in public, baby.”

There must be people outside, but a frantic peek at the thin gap between the machine and curtain confirms there is not. Panning up, the sky looks like spilled ink, splotches of gray leeching into the blue. 

A hand curling over your low neckline snaps you out of your gawking. Johnny’s fingers feel for the ridge of your bralette, then yanks both it and your dress down. He strains the fabric, seams popping mutedly. You throw an elbow into his chest, which he takes with a grunt, and return the pain with a bite to your neck. Tucking the stretched material haphazardly beneath your breasts, his free hand paws at them, kneading and pinching.

“God you’re—desperate.” You snark from behind your palm, only half-annoyed when he syncs a plunge of his fingers with a roll of a nipple. 

The curl of his mouth against your neck tells you he’s smirking. “Says the woman whose cunt’s clenchin’ my fingers in a vise.”

“And–and who started it?” You gasp, head lolling against his shoulder.

Johnny chuckles, laving his tongue over a little nibble.“You when you wore this dress.” He buries his fingers, stilling them to work his palm against your clit once more. “Showin’ off those legs. S’practically see-through.”

“You can’t see—”

“I ken what’s up your skirt, waitin’ on me, waitin’ on a little attention. She–You were begging for it.” He grunts, bucking his hard length into your ass, rough denim meeting and chafing skin.

God, his stupid mouth. Juvenile, smug bastard. The worst is that he’s right, partly because you did want his attention, though you expected to receive it somewhere private. You’d rather jump off the pier than admit it.

The warmth in your middle sinks, adding pressure to the coiled tension already low in your body. All while grinding insistently, he spews another string of filth in your ear, some of it pure nonsense, all shock value. It’s always humiliating when it works for you, the way that vulgar shit bids your body to answer.

What sends you over the edge is unclear—the drag over your clit, the fingers stuffed inside, or his teeth to your neck—but you bite off the desperate moan that accompanies your orgasm. But instead of coaxing you through it, fingering you until you’re shaky and incoherent, Johnny slips his fingers out lightning-quick and presses the big red button.

You jerk helplessly in his lap. Four flashes follow rapid-fire, catching you in your most debauched state.

You whine, the words smothered by your hand, super-glued by embarrassment and sweat to your lips, but Johnny doesn’t answer. He coos, wipes his hand on your thigh, and bends, sandwiching you with his body to snake an arm out of the machine. His erection digs painfully into your softness. You groan, uncomfortable and dripping, but watch him blindly snatch the photo strips that appear in the slot. Kissing the crown of your head as he settles back into the seat, chuckling.

Just as you imagined, there you are on color film, spread wide and fully exposed. Framed by cartoonish hearts and looping cursive that reads, I Love My Girlfriend. Over your shoulder, Johnny smiles for the camera. He holds the four strips like playing cards.

“Johnny, you–you asshole!” You curse, trying to fix your dress and grab the prints he holds just out of reach.

He doesn’t have to try to keep them from you. “Stop fussin’, they’re for me. A souvenir from a perfect day. I’ll get rid of the extra three. Just want something to look at when I’m…” His chin knocks your skull, head turning toward the booth’s curtain. He draws it open a hair with his free hand, and the smell of rain drifts in. Droplets splatter the ground and swiftly pick up speed.

“Perfect fuckin’ day.” Johnny reaffirms, drawing the curtain closed once more. He bumps you off his lap to stand on wobbly legs and turns you around. The photos are nowhere to be seen, tucked away somewhere, and he beams. “My turn, baby. On your knees.”

It isn’t until much later, well after Johnny’s shipped out again, that you think to look for the other copies. To destroy them, because you know that dolt didn’t keep his word. But they’re nowhere to be found. And somewhere in the Caucasus, Soap slips one each into the rest of the task force’s bags, grinning like a madman.

[dira333]

This Is Me Trying - Kageyama x Reader

there's one line missing that I'd have loved to include but I am still pretty okay with how this turned out instead.

Tagging: @alienaiver for helping, @screamin-abt-haikyuu and @lees-chaotic-brain for Haikyuu

“Where’s Kageyama?”

The rest of the team turns at Hinata’s question, but their first-year setter is nowhere to be seen. 

“Not this again,” Daichi mutters in frustration, thinking back to Hinata’s missing shoes the day before. “We’ve got twenty minutes before our next game. I want us to all go in teams. Hinata, you’re with me. I cannot have you get lost as well.”

- Meanwhile -

“How long have you been playing volleyball? Who taught you? How long have you been a setter? How do you train? Do you get along with your team members? Have you ever hit a wall?”

“Huh?” You turn to the guy creeping up behind you, a bag clutched in his hands as he stares you down. Your teammates are sending both of you curious looks and you can tell that your Captain is just a second away from interfering.

“Can I help you?” You ask, surprised when he flinches away, stuttering. 

“I- am… I am Kageyama Tobio.” He bows so abruptly and so deeply that you fear for his spine. “I saw you play yesterday.”

“Ah?” You blink. “What school are you from?”

“Karasuno.”

“Oh,” you blink again. “I saw you play as well. You’re their setter. What year are you in?”

“First. Your serve-”

“Alright, alright.” You pull him to the side by his arm and wave at your Captain before she can do something more drastic. “I have to say your drive is admirable, but you’re not the first person to ask for my secrets. Why would I tell you?”

Kageyama considers that for a second, brows furrowing. He’s really not good at making his face work for him. It might look cute though, if he relaxed a little. 

“I wanna stay on the court the longest,” he declares, face set in a scowl that could turn milk sour.”

“Again, you’re not the only one. You gotta impress me a little more, Kageyama-kun.” You snip two fingers against his temple, watch him almost short-circuit at the sensation.

To your surprise, Kageyama bows again.

“I want to spend more time playing with this team. I am not good with people. You are good with people. I need to learn more.”

“Fine,” you tell him after a second. “Gimme your phone.”

He doesn’t stop watching you as you type in your number. “If you win today as well, you can send me details about your play. Don’t forget to tell me where you’re staying. I’ll come by and we’ll talk about it, okay? Can’t promise it will help, though.”

“Kageyama!” Someone yells at that moment, and he turns to find two guys waving at him. One of them has a shaved head, the other has a bleached strand of hair sticking up like a lightning strike.

“Good luck,” you tell him, patting his shoulder. Kageyama leaves with one last look back at you.

“You’re in trouble!” Shaved head sings as he joins them. “Daichi’s mad as hell, looking for you. All because of a cute girl?”

“I didn’t- She isn’t-” He looks back as if to check, blushing bright red when he spots you still looking at him. “I wanted to know more about her technique, that’s all.”

Both guys laugh loudly. “You really are something else, Kageyama.” The guy with the Lighting Strike declares and then they’re gone.

“Why did you give him your number?” Your libero asks when you join the team again. “Aren’t you afraid he’s going to murder you for your skin?”

“No,” You laugh softly. “He reminded me of someone, that’s all.”

Karasuno wins. So do you. 

No one pays you any mind when you slip out of the hotel you’re staying in, jogging down the streets to where Kageyama’s team is staying.

“Oh,” Shaved Head spots you at the front door. “You’re the cute girl Kageyama found.”

“I am,” you grin, “I’m looking for him. Is he around?”

“Kageyama!” He hollers down the hallway. “Uh, he’s in the bathroom, I think. I’m Tanaka by the way. What team are you playing in?”

“Niiyama,” you explain and his eyes light up. “No way, you’re playing with Kanoka.”

“Exactly. You know her?”

“Yeah, we’re childhood besties. So, you won today, right?”

“Yep. Don’t know if she told you, but we’re thinking about making Kanoka Captain next year.”

“You are. Wow. Does she know alrea-” “I’m here!” Kageyama declares from the door, wet hair sticking to his flushed face. 

“Oh, you showered already?” You ask, “I thought we could do a run-”

“Right away,” Kageyama declares, already slipping into the shoes by the door.

“Forget it, hotshot,” you put a hand on his shoulders and drag him away, “not when your hair is still wet. You’re going to get a cold. It’s fine, it’s fine, we can still work without running around.”

And you do. Even though you have to pretend you don’t notice every single member of his team walking by, peeking into the little lobby, trying to catch parts of your conversation with him.

Kageyama, however, will not let himself get distracted. He’s sucking up every word you say and, as soon as you’ve figured out how he thinks, is able to discuss ideas with you at an impressive rate.

“So…” You lean back a little after almost an hour, ignoring the little red-haired guy who’s sitting at the door, listening in. “What are your plans? Do you want to become Captain in your Third Year? Make it to Nationals every Year? Play professionally after High School or go to College first?”

“I don’t have good grades,” Kageyama points out. “I just want to stay on Court for as long as possible. Play my best.”

“Hmmm,” you get up. “Tell you what. You have my number. Make it through these Nationals and go back home. Let me know how you’re feeling next school year, okay?”

“Okay.” He shakes your hand and bows deeply, staying far too long in the open doorway, looking after you as you leave.

You don’t feel you’ve done a lot for him today. You just listened, explained a few things, told him about your perspective.

But he’s acting like you’ve changed his world and you wonder if you did. And if so, in what way…

Kageyama’s sleeping on your bedroom floor.

Your mother would throw a fit if she knew, but she’s gone for the weekend and Kageyama took the three-hour train ride in stride just to spend a weekend training with you.

College Volleyball isn’t much different from High School Volleyball, except for the harsher course load. 

He’d been updating you weekly with the teams and his own progress, updates coming in more often when it turned out that the team had problems adapting to the new Captain, or rather, the lack of their old. 

“You miss Sugawara,” you point out only half an hour after he’s arrived. 

He looks surprised at first, but then easily gives in.

“I’m still not good at connecting with my teammates.”

“Have you tried the exercises that I gave you?”

He scowls and you laugh. “Come on, Kageyama, I know you’re better than that. Practice with me, then.”

Stiffly, he turns his head. “How are you doing lately?”

You laugh again, louder this time. “You’ve got to work on your expressions, but I’m doing okay, I guess. I don’t have that much time for training because of College, so I feel like I’m falling behind.”

Kageyama falls quiet and you nudge your elbow into his side.

“This is your chance to say ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Can I do something for you?’”

“Why did you go to College if it takes away time from playing Volleyball?” He asks instead and you stop, surprised by his question.

“Because I want something to fall back on if I can’t make it in Volleyball. What if I get hurt? What if I no longer want to play?”

Kageyama scowls. “Why would you want to stop playing?”

“What are you going to do when you’re too old to play professionally?” You ask back and he falls quiet. For the remainder of your run, he’s unreachable to you. Whatever he’s thinking about, he’s far, far away.

“What am I supposed to do instead?” He asks eventually, bangs hiding his eyes.

You’re stretching and he follows your movements, intent on copying you, as usual. As if you have all the answers in the world.

“Tell me about your Childhood, Tobio,” you ask instead.

That’s how you end up, him sleeping on your bedroom floor and you craving nothing more than to pick him up and hug him so tight that all the loneliness drains out of him.

You’re no stranger to grief, but it’s so different when you have to watch someone you care about in its clutches.

Karasuno doesn’t make it to the Nationals in their second year. Tobio still gets invited to this Year’s Youth Camp and you make sure to take that weekend off, taking the same train so you can sit next to him for three of his eight-hour ride, listening to him ramble on about school, Hinata, Volleyball. 

“You’re going to do great,” you tell him, wondering how it happened that you’re now feeling this way. As if he punctured your heart and crawled inside, making it his home without realizing it.

Third-Year Tobio is a heartbreaker. 

He tells you about the confessions he gets with the naivety of someone much younger. Every single time you have to force yourself to ask “And what did you answer?” only to hear that he’s declined, yet again.

You wonder what he’s thinking of you. You’re still a Star Setter, but do you have anything left to teach him? You think Sugawara did a way better job at that anyway. 

But he still makes the three-hour ride at least once every two months, sleeping on your bedroom floor when your mom is away for the weekend. 

One time you take his hand in a crowded train station and he doesn’t let go.

If only you could let yourself have this. 

But does he even think about you that way?

X

“Sugawara-senpai?” Kageyama asks, phone pressed hard against his ear. “What do you wear on a sleepover?”

He sits amidst his things, a volleyball in his lap.

“Pajamas, usually. Why do you ask?”

“Even if it’s with a girl?”

Sugawara sounds like he’s choking.

“A sleepover with a girl? Boy, you’re- wait, who are you sleeping at?”

Kageyama says your name with the familiar feeling of pride that comes with it.

He was the one who approached you and he’s the one who still gets to text and call you, visit you even. Not Hinata, who can make everyone like him, or Tsukishima, who’s somehow getting love confessions even though he’s an ass. 

“Well, it depends… on what you’ve already done together.”

“Done together?” Kageyama furrows his brows. “We’ve analyzed our games. And I get to play with her friends sometimes.”

“Kageyama.” Sugawara’s voice is serious. “I need to ask you this. Why are you sleeping over?”

“Because she lives far away and I can’t make both treks in one day.”

“I get that, but… why are you visiting her anyway? Just to get more tips?”

Kageyama halts for a second. “I… don’t know.”

“Mhm. Thought so. You know, most boys sleeping over at girls' houses have more than just Volleyball tips in mind.”

“She’s giving me tips on how to get along with my teammates as well,” He explains, but Sugawara just chuckles low in his throat.

“That’s not what I meant. I guess you know what it’s going to look like, right? That’s why you’re asking what to wear?”

Kageyama digs his knees into the floor of his room and bits down on his lip but the words still tumble out.

“I’ve never been on a sleepover before. One that’s not the whole team sleeping somewhere, I mean. I didn’t want to ask Hinata because he’s got so many friends and he might think-”

“Ah…” Sugawara interrupts him. “I get it. Don’t worry. We’ll go over this like we did with the topic of Smalltalk, okay? Basic steps first, then some finer things. Would that help?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Girl’s rooms look different than boy’s rooms, Kageyama knows.

His sister’s room is filled with pictures of celebrities, make-up, and accessories have driven out anything volleyball-related long ago.

Yachi’s room is colorful, with little designer pieces and cute stationery she likes to collect.

Yours is different altogether.

The prizes you won are proudly displayed, next to a collection of textbooks. There’s a bed and a small closet and you serve him tea on the floor of your room, giggling over the stories he tells from training.

Kageyama likes talking to you. Just like Sugawara, you never mind when his words come out more brash than they should, or when he can’t figure out how to word a question right. You’ve got kind eyes and a soft smile and you touch him more often than other people.

Telling you about his grandfather or his fear of ending up alone again - the words might not come easy, but you handle them gently, like it’s safe to let them rest with you.

You snore a little, he figures out that first night. The softest sound he wants to never forget.

Sleeping over at a friend’s house is something he wants to do again and again, talking low in the darkness, knowing that someone who cares is just a short distance away.

When he has to leave you hug him goodbye. 

For the first time, he thinks he knows why people do it, this seemingly unnecessary ritual of enveloping each other.

For the first time, he thinks about not letting go.

But his train’s going to leave without him and you wave until the train station is out of sight. Kageyama likes to think you waved a little longer. Just because.

“Are you away this weekend, Kageyama?” Has become a regular question. 

Hinata’s no longer pestering him with questions about his private training sessions on the weekend. 

He’s getting better at working with the new First Years and a new invite for the National Youth Camp has him reach for the phone to call you.

He’s more nervous than last time and he wonders if it’s about you, sitting next to him on the train, legs pressed together on the small seats. 

You smell sweet and he wonders if he could hug, just like that, just because. 

Do people do that? Just hug for no reason but to touch? He should ask Sugawara about it.

“You’re going to do great,” you say and he wants to promise that he will, just for you.

But he doesn’t, because that would sound weird, wouldn’t it? 

After all, he’s so much younger than you. 

Do you even think about him in that way? The way he thinks about you?

Your hand fits perfectly in his.

Kageyama knows the taste of your favorite dessert and always has some money saved to buy you a flower or two at the train station before he gets to your house.

Sometimes, when you sleep, you mumble his name and he can hardly make himself fall asleep because he wants to hear it all, every quiet mention, mumble or snore.

You’re real and you like him, still.

“Are you coming?” He asks when they get through the Qualifiers; when he knows he will make it to the Nationals one last time with this team.

“Of course,” you say and his heart leaps into his throat. 

Kageyama almost tells you, then and there, that he thinks this might be love.

But it doesn’t feel right, over the phone like that, so he pulls the words back before they can spill from his lips.

He will tell you, he promises to himself after they win. This time, Karasuno will be the last one standing in Tokyo.

X

“Oh, you’re here as well,” a guy with greyish hair and a beauty mark beneath his eye waves at you, “We’re sitting over here.”

“Do I know you?” You ask, taking the offered seat nonetheless. The guy pouts and his friends laugh.

“I’m Sugawara,” he explains, “Kageyama’s Senpai. These two are Daichi and Asahi, not that you’d recognize them, right?”

You laugh. “No, guilty as charged. I don’t think I remember any names from your team besides Tanaka and Kageyama.”

“Someone called my name?” Tanaka jumps down the last two steps leading to your seats, grinning. “Kiyoko, they’re already here, Babe.” He waits for his girlfriend to take a seat before leaning in. 

“You’re Kageyama’s girlfriend, right?”

“Oh, it’s not- I…” You wave your hands around awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Tanaka laughs.

“Ah, I knew it, I knew it. No way he’s got that much game. But he’s got lots of talent, don’t you think.”

“He does,” you take the offered topic, lament about their Kohai’s talents for over half an hour until the players finally arrive, warming for their first game. More of Karasuno’s former players have gathered around you, as well as a taiko drum group.

Sugawara lets out a shrill whistle using two fingers and most of the Karasuno players look up, obviously used to the signal.

You wave, hoping against hope that Tobio will be able to pick you out of the crowd.

From this distance, it’s hard to tell, but that frown could mean he’s smiling. Sugawara starts to point at you exaggeratedly and you slap his hands away but it’s too late. 

Tobio has already turned away.

He doesn’t play well at the beginning. Everyone notices.

It takes him a while to find his grove but when he does, he does.

Then it’s over and you wish to do nothing more but to run down and hug him. But it’s safer up here, you know, where your heart won’t leap out of your throat.

But then you have to leave, get up, and move, because the Niiyama Girls are playing in the other hall and you promised you’d watch their game too, knowing that it would sync up perfectly with Karasuno’s rest period.

“I’m going to be back for the next game,” you promise, “so don’t give my seat away.”

Your heart still hammers in your chest as you walk down the staircase.

If only you could keep these moments, locked up in a mason jar, take them out on bad days to relive them again.

“Are you leaving already?” Tobio’s looking up at you, sweat slick hair sticking to his temple, face flushed from exertion.

“I’m just moving to the other stadion to watch the Niiyama Girls,” you explain, pull him in for a hug when you reach him. “You were amazing.”

“Thank you,” his hot breath tickles your neck and maybe you’re imagining it, but you think you feel his heart racing through the thin jersey.

“Your start was messy though,” you reprimand him, your hand moving on its own to shuffle through his hair, putting each strand back where it belongs. “But you saved your ass. I’m going to be back for your next game, don’t worry.”

“I could come with you,” he rushes out. “It doesn’t really matter where I rest, right?”

You catch a look from Karasuno’s captain over Tobio’s shoulder. A smile dances over his freckled face and he makes a face that tells you everything you need to know.

“Fine,” you tell him, knowing that a ‘No’ would never work here, “But you should put on a jacket.”

His hand finds yours on the way to the other game, his grip warm and strong.

You don’t want to ever let go, but you still do, knowing full well how it would look like to your Kouhai’s. You’ve never had a boyfriend in the whole time you played with them. 

And even though the first years still remember Tobio showing up back then, you don’t want to give them any ideas that might come back to break your heart.

“You and Sugawara-senpai,” Tobio starts as soon as you’re sitting, “did you get along well?”

“I guess so,” your leg is pressed against his, the sensation shooting up your spine and into your brain. “He’s nice.”

“How nice?” He asks, voice so low you almost miss it.

You blink. The words are out before you’ve thought them through.

“Are you jealous, Tobio?”

“Should I be?”

You’re not sure how he means it. Teasing? Or is he unsure of this social construct, asking for an explanation?

He takes your hand, looks at it as if checking for injuries. “Would you hold my hand if Sugawara was here as well?”

Your mouth turns dry.

“Would I be allowed?” You ask. “I mean, I’m a lot older than you-”

“I like you.” He blurts it out like he blurts out most things. Two guys in front of you turn around with matching frowns. You’re sure they didn’t come here to hear your love confessions.

“We should talk about this later,” you whisper, cheeks burning. You press his hand. “I like you too, don’t worry.”

“Can’t we talk now?”

And maybe it would have been better to slip out and talk about it, but you’ve never once missed a minute of a game you wanted to see and Tobio’s hand doesn’t leave yours, his grip warm and heavy, his leg pressing into yours.

There’s much to talk about after this game ends and all the other ones today. There’s graduation and other things to consider, but you can’t help but think that it will be okay.

As long as his hand stays in yours, it will be okay.

“Where’s Kageyama?”

You turn to spot Sugawara looking through the crowd.

“Bathroom,” you explain. “I think he had a bit too much to drink.”

“Ah,” Sugawara smiles. “Haven’t had the time to properly talk to you today. How are you? How’s work doing?”

“Good and good. Our last match-”

“I know,” Sugawara smiles. “Kageyama tells me everything. He still calls every week to update me. He spent an hour boasting about that game.”

“Oh,” you blink, a little surprised and a lot flattered. “Wait, is that when he locks himself in our pantry for half an hour each Friday?”

Sugawara laughs. “He’s been asking for my advice for years and I don’t think he’s going to stop soon. I thought you knew, actually.”

“Well, I knew you taught him a lot concerning Volleyball, but this sounds like you did a lot more. Tell me the details, Sugawara-san.”

Sugawara grins cheekily, checking to see if Tobio’s still nowhere to be seen.

“When he spent the weekend at your place for the first time he asked me all kinds of questions. I’m the one who picked out the sleepwear he brought. He usually slept only in boxers or nothing at all depending on the temperature.”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “I see. Thank you’s are in order.”

“Uhuh,” Sugawara winks. “Nothing to thank me for. You two deserve each other.”

“That just sounded mildly threatening,” you joke just as Tobio returns, threading his arm through yours.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your weekly talks with Sugawara-san,” you lean into him. “And the fact that you only wear sleepwear because of him.”

Tobio blushes a soft red. “You said you liked my Volleyball Pajamas.”

“I do. They are adorable.”

Tip me?

[reiderwriter]

The Thrill of the Chase

Chapter Seven of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Waking up in Spencer's arms suddenly feels wrong, but you have to convince him everything is fine before your big secret is revealed.

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness, and triggers for emetophobia.

A/N: Welcome to Chapter Seven!! It's been a bit of a hectic week for me, so this is a bit of a shorter chapter, but I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! It's crazy to think there are only three chapters left now!

Masterlist || (tag list is currently being repaired, thanks tumblr)

When you woke up, you immediately wish you hadn't. 

The comfortable position immediately became a crick in your neck. The warm fuzz of sleep became sharpened memories of the night before. Your bed became Spencer Reid, though of course it did. 

If you were stiff, you were so sure he was. 

While you'd been wedged between his head and his shoulders, fitting nearly perfectly into his shoulder, he'd been forced up against the sofa, head pushed down at an awkward angle as he tried, and failed, to get comfortable.  

You blinked your eyes open and immediately closed them again as you cursed inwardly.  

 You wondered how you were going to extricate yourself from the solid grip he still had on your hips, but you weren't wondering for long.  

Not when the second time opening your eyes had your stomach somersaulting in your belly, a pair of legs or a head or something pushed right up against everything you'd eaten in the last 24 hours. 

You shot up, not caring if you woke him but absolutely caring that you didn't throw up all over him.  

He joked awake and only  really gained full consciousness when you bolted the bathroom door shut behind you.  

He tried his best to shake off that sleepy feeling, the fatigue of sleeping somewhere unfamiliar. For a second, he felt a pang of sympathy for you, having spent a full week sleeping in unfamiliar territory.

Truthfully, he'd been able to sleep just fine on the couch. His back was stiff, but it was nothing like the ache of the solid prison beds. He wasn't alone at least. 15 years with the FBI, and Spencer had seen enough to never want to sleep soundly again, but you had put your head on his chest and he'd gone from horny to humming contented as he slipped into sleep. 

It was his own relaxed state that had his senses sharpening as he heard the tell-tale signs of your morning sickness. You wretched and heaved over the toilet, mostly expelling nothing except all your comfort and joy. 

Whoever said the female body was purpose built for baby making obviously had never been through it themselves, as it seemed your body was more than likely trying to destroy itself to create life. You weren't even sure what was even left in your stomach at this point.

Spencer knocked quietly at the door. 

“Y/N? Do you need something?” He called, resting his still weary head on the door. 

“No.” You called back, tone a lot sharper than you intended. 

“Come on, what's going on in there?” He asked, still calm and content. Your only reply was another dry heave and a shaky sob of pain. 

You heard his footsteps retreat from the door as your head collapsed against the porcelain, and you rode out your pain once again. 

When he returned, his voice was firmer. 

“Y/N, we have a doctors appointment in 45 minutes at a clinic across town. If you can, open the door.”

“No!” You cried, throat closing up in panic as you heard his words. You weren't sure whether to be pissed at his presumption, steam-rolling you into a doctor's visit even though you knew exactly what it was that was wrong with you, or happy that he even cared enough to ask. 

Either way, you hadn't the energy to lift yourself up and open the door for him. 

You laid back on his bathroom floor and closed your eyes, the cool floor wholly more comfortable than the toilet had been.

You didn't get to relish it for long, though, before he had beaten the door down. You barely registered the first shoulder push before the second one carefully carried Spencer into the room.

He took one look at you and lifted you into a sitting position, even as you groaned, your head now pounding.

“Spencer, leave me alone,” you moaned, even as you hugged closer to him. He pulled you up to a standing position but kept his hands locked around yours carefully and walked you out to the front door, effectively marching you to the door before you could even tell him there had been a misunderstanding. 

You came up with every excuse in the book to get out of the car, bit you didn't have the time to utter a single one before he was strapping you in gently, closing the door behind you, climbing in himself and starting the engine.

“This is a misunderstanding,” you said, as your morning sickness began to fade rapidly. Finally. 

“Oh, so you weren't throwing up?” 

“No, I was but-”

“But what?”

“I do it every day,” you said quietly, knowing it was only going to confuse him more. 

“Then we're absolutely going to see a doctor.” 

You said nothing for the rest of the ride there, staring instead out the window as you felt your world implode beside you. 

In the doctors waiting room, Spencer sorted your insurance and medical details, checking boxes and dealing with the desk staff as you sat silently in the corner. 

You knew you couldn't hold off telling him much longer. Your body had already begun changing, stomach expanding just enough to be noticeable now you were approaching five months. It's why you hadn't changed clothes around him, hoping that he'd just assumed the change of scenery and stress had led you to gain some weight.

Still, you didn't want your hand forced like this.

“Miss Y/N,” a nurse asked from the desk, and you instinctively replied “Doctor,” though that really wasn't relevant here of all places. 

You stood, and Spencer stood with you. 

“No,” you said immediately, as he began to march to the doctors office. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Spencer, you…you can't come in with me.” 

“Why not? You're sick, you're suffering, you probably aren't even aware of your symptoms, Y/N. I have to make sure the doctor knows everything so he can accurately diagnose you.”

“Spencer,” you said, closing your eyes as your tone grew angry, attempting to calm yourself down. 

“You are not my father, legal guardian, and you're certainly not my husband. You are a colleague I have been forced to share an apartment with because there is some maniac possibly stalking me, though I haven't heard anything about that in a full week. So,” you said, dropping your voice to a whisper and stepping closer. “Back the fuck off and stop acting like I'm some pet project you have to take care of. I'm not a victim, I can talk to a doctor alone.”

You turned and left him in the waiting room, and went to apologise to the doctor for wasting his time. 

Luckily, the doctor was more than understanding of the situation. Even after you subtly undermined her professionalism by asking she really stick to her HIPAA oaths or whatever and not let on any information to Spencer at all. 

You knew you had to tell him. You were beginning to sound like a broken record in your own head, and you knew it. But you were sure as hell telling him on your own terms. 

“Could I possibly make a quick phone call while we're here?” You asked as the doctor performed a quick check up on your baby. You got the go-ahead and dialled Emily's number immediately. 

“Y/N, hello. What is it, is something wrong?” she asked as she picked up. 

“No, I'm… Emily. I'm going to be honest with you now, and I need your full cooperation. You can't speak a word of this to anyone, especially Spencer.” 

A moment of hesitation on the other line, and then she agreed. 

“I'm pregnant,” you said. “Spencer is the father.”

“I know,” Emily admitted, sighing slightly. 

“Penelope?” You asked, hoping that you didn't have to make another call after this.

“Penelope knows? Irrelevant, sorry. No, there was an ultrasound picture on your desk last week. And I'm good at my job.”

“Is Spencer good at his?” You asked, not sure you wanted a truthful answer. The only thing worse than Spencer finding out you were pregnant by himself was him finding out by himself and not telling you this entire time, his resentment building. 

“Yes. But he isn't good at anything when you're around.”

“He's good at pissing me off,” you scoffed, but it caught somewhere in your throat and turned into a sob. 

“I'm sorry, I just-” you started crying and your doctor offered you a tissue. 

“Y/N, what happened?” 

You explained the morning to Emily. Except that you didn't explain your predicament fully, so you explained your week, and then your month, and then eventually your entire acquaintance with Spencer Reid.

“So, yeah,” you ended, chest still shaking with quiet sobs. 

“What are you going to do?” she asked, and you replied as honestly as you could muster. 

“I don't know.” 

You wiped tears and continued before Emily could say anything else.

“But I need time to think about how to tell him again, and I need space. Can you call him into the office?” 

“He's at the doctor's office with you?” 

“He tried to come into the appointment with me. I yelled at him.”

“You do that often.”

“It's the only thing that works,” you sighed, and continued. “Please, Emily?” 

“I'll call him with an excuse. JJ’s close by, I'll have her come and pick you up while the doctor fills your prescription.”

You smiled and felt the pressure wash off your shoulders as you hung up. 

Then you stepped out of the doctors office and back into the waiting room and were almost knocked back on your ass when you spotted Spencer in the corner of the room. 

He was exactly where you'd left him, bit at some point the waiting room had been populated by young mothers, and Spencer was now animatedly locked in a conversation with a toddling small boy, playing with the toys as he passed the time. 

Your lip wobbled and you almost broke down before he looked up at you and you blinked back the tears. 

He gave you a confused smile, checking that you were okay before you nodded. 

You didn't move to join him, though, and like clockwork, his phone rang. He excused himself, pointing at his phone to let you know where he was going, and you finally breathed easily, knowing that Emily was sticking to her promise. 

[suoslalaloves]

Headcanons on how the boys take care of you when you're sick

Featuring: Sakura Haruka, Suo Hayato, Kaji Ren

Author's Note: First post with multiple boys :)), also I just realized I've been using all of their last names this whole time but we just gon ignore that LOL

Tell me what ya think of these headcanons :DD, press the slll writes tag to find my other works :))

Reblogs, Likes, Comments are always appreciated!

Okay bro would be panicking so much

You didn't answer your phone for like half a day and he got worried and when he found you with a hot fever he is c o n f u z z l e d and flustered.

Probably went to bofurin + Kotoha for advice

He is there at your beck and call, you need some medicine he's got you

You need some food he's got you

If you're someone who likes to ignore the sickness and get some stuff done– well too bad for you Sakura's out there with his claws to get you home

Will accompany you the whole time you will never be alone with this man.

"Oi! What the hell are you doing getting out of bed??? Who told you to get out? You need some food? I'll get some for you so go back to bed damnit!"

"Nirei and Suo told me to get some of these stuff and the others gave me these...ahh I don't know what to do!"

"You can go rest, I'll handle the complicated stuff."

I headcanon that Hiragi took care of him on the off chance he did get sick

So he tries to mimic whatever Hiragi did to him to make you feel better

He's like Sakura if he was a bit better hiding his panicking

He still reacts the same if you try to resist resting

If you've got a cough I bet he has some of those cough drops stashed somewhere and will drop them to you

Will play either soothing tunes or your fav songs to help you sleep and rest

"Hiragi what should I do first??"

"Here, some cough drops, I got more so if you want I'll give you more"

"Go rest, I'll play some of the songs you like, and I'll be here so don't worry"

"Hoo? And why are you up and out of bed? When you're still sick?"

I have just a tiny feeling Suo's a rich kid so once he found out you were sick he immediately got you to his house and made you rest on the softest bed ever

Probably make some teas for you

You need some warm meals he's making them for you too

You're sore? he will massage you

Probably has the most complex plan to help you get better

Just don't let him catch you out of bed though

"Is this good for you? Tell me if you need the blanket less or more thick"

"This type of tea helps you relax better"

"I made a simple soup for you, try it"

"Love...why are you out of bed?"

[prettyboykatsuki]

Does methinks have more thoughts on alpha togame they'd like to share?

tags for gender neutral + afab!reader (no mention of specific secondary sex but they can smell togames scent), dubcon (just out of rut shennanigans), mean togame, rough sex, omegaverse fuckery, a mention of face-fucking 18+

SO GLAD U ASKED ANON...

__

Togame tells you about his rut two full weeks in advance and makes a point to emphasize that you're not allowed to see him.

He never tells you no, though sometimes he likes to pretend. His immediate, firm rejection of spending time together during his rut strikes you as odd. Even more, he's being totally unreasonable by refusing to explain to you. You try not to take it heart because Togame is by all other means, perfect. And the way he lets you down is the same as always - kind, relaxed playful. Tells you it's not a big deal but still.

Still. It's unusually serious and worries you all the same.

He won't explain why he can't be with you during his ruts either, doesn't bother with the details and smooths past it when youpry. You snoop around Shishitoren searching for answers, but every member who's been with Togame long enough to know just gives you wide eyes and dodges your question. Choji answers you after some prying, with a wide toothed smile and a shake of his head.

"He's not really himself," And then a little kinder. "He's probably just worried about doing something bad to you. His ruts are kinda scary."

If Choji is saying so, you can't help but believe it's true. Still, Togame is your partner and he's always good to you, albeit a little difficukt. It feels like the least you can do is to be with him through it so he doesn't have to go through it by himself. You try arguing with him but he's always firm, even jokes he'll lock you out of his apartment if you show up.

It's maybe a bad idea for you to go over, but you can't help it. It's the first time he's been in rut in your relationship and the thought of him being by himself troubles you. So you go, you even bring things he might need.

You can immediately feel the suffocating, oppressive air when you arrive to his apartment. It's so strong it makes your skin prickle regardless of your sensitivity to pheromones. They practically seep under the door, make the hairs on your neck stand. A signal to danger, telling you to run while you're ahead.

But you're stubborn, so you stay and ring the door bell. It takes a few times before Togame really answers.

The first thing you notice is how different he looks. His hair is down and his glasses are off and his expression is... hard to describe. Dilated pupils, heaving breaths - something wild about him you rarely see, not even in fights. You remember what Choji says about him not being himself and decide it's accurate. Togame barely looks like himself.

"Why're you..." He shakes his head, covering his face with his hand to cover his nose. "Go home. Now."

You're being stubborn, but it's frustrating. "Let me in. I just want to to help you—"

"Go home. I'm saying this for you. Go."

It's petulant but you shake your head and frown. "I'm not going home."

He gives you a long look, scrubbing a hand over his face. His scent gets stronger, intoxicating - makes you lungs feel hot and your chest tight. You let out a shaky little breath and cross your arms. It takes a minute before you feel yourself be tugged forward. It happens too quickly for you to make any sense of it. Your bag is dropped onto the ground, back pushed against the door while Togame pins your wrists between his hands.

His voice is thick, lacking his usual bravado. "Don't be stubborn and go home." He says, the force of his grip getting tighter as if to drive in his point. "I'm hanging on by a fucking thread right now,"

"I'll be fine," You make sure to meet his eyes. "It's fine even if you hurt me. I'm not gonna break into a million pieces. I'm here willingly because I love you,"

He laughs. There's something caustic to it. "You're really have a talent for testing my patience."

You can feel the threads of his control snap when Togame finally kisses you. It's rough, more teeth than lip - a harsh clattering, a desire to dominate that bleeds itself into the gesture. He rarely reveals so much of his desire towards you with so little coaxing.

His scent is so thick you cant breathe. It's oppressive, washes away your own with no remorse. Your pressed so squarely into the wall there's nowhere for you to go, nowhere to run now even if you wanted too. The fabric of your clothes tears like paper under his grip, leaves you gasping as he grips you. It's bruising and quick, makes your heart hammer half-way between fear and full blown lust.

His voice is muddled with animalistic need but the words - his convictions are spoken with unmistakable clarity. "I won't go easy on you." Another nip, a bite - a harsh hand coming down on your ass that makes you yelp. "I'll fuck you until you cry and make you wish you ran away. Even then, you won't get any sympathy from me."

True to his word, Togame shows you no mercy. He fucks you right at is doorway with your face pressed to the wood and makes you squirt on his welcome mat. Fucks you with a leg up in the entrance to his living room, pinning you down even when you want to run away. His entire house ends up soiled before you even make it the bedroom - cum dripping on his counters, saliva from face-fucking you staining his couch. He fucks you up against a window and holds you up while he does it once - telling you his neighbors are going to see if you don't cum on his cock fast enough.

By the time you get to his room, your whole body is throbbing from all you've endured. You catch a glimpse of yourself in his mirror and you're covered in bitemarks and hickies. Too fucked out in a daze, Togame is still relentless. Still hard after cumming in you so many times and still with enough energy to pin your knees up - fucking you with your spine at an angle with just as much aggression as before.

He's barely sober enough to collect himself when your gazes meet for the first time in a while.

He smiles at you and it should be scary but it arouses you instead. "My ruts last days," He tells you, meeting your mouth in a sloppy kiss - through drool and sweat "Let's do out best together."

You can barely breathe, nodding in a daze as you resign yourself to fate

[shem-fatale]

Dragon Age Inquisition: "Canon" Choices Survey Results!

Tell us about your personal "canon" Inquisitor who will make an appearance in The Veilguard? What were their choices? Answers to this short survey were collected via a tumblr post between June 11th and June 22nd 2024. I have since found out which of the choices mentioned will and will not affect DA:TV but I will include all questions anyway. Text version and tags under the cut!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

1. Who is your "canon" Inquisitor and are/were they in a relationship with another DAI character? Female Adaar/Blackwall - 1% Female Lavellan/Blackwall - 1% Male Lavellan/Josephine- 1% Male Lavellan/The Iron Bull- 1% Male Trevelyan/Cassandra - 1%

Female Lavellan/Josephine - 2% Female Trevelyan/Josephine- 2% Male Lavellan - no romance - 2%

Female Adaar/The Iron Bull - 3% Male Adaar/Dorian - 3%

Female Trevelyan/Blackwall - 4%

Female Adaar/Josephine - 6% Male Trevelyan/Dorian - 6%

Female Lavellan/Cullen - 7%

Male Lavellan/Dorian - 12%

Female Trevelyan/Cullen - 13%

Female Lavellan/Solas - 33% Added headcanon comment from @spiders-scribbles: Male Adaar/The Iron Bull "Kas is played with the female model cause I hate how bulky the male Qunari body is and also trans reasons" <3 And another one from @doves-wing: Female Cadash/Josephine "i think they have an open relationship and so my quizzy has dated iron bull though that relationship ends before trespasser. she is still with josie though." <3 2. What combat class and specialisation apply to your "canon" Inquisitor?

Warrior/Two-Handed/Templar - 0% Warrior/Weapon and Shield/Templar - 0%

Rogue/Daggers/Artificer - 1% Warrior/Two-Handed/Champion - 1% Warrior/Weapon and Shield/Reaver - 1%

Warrior/Two-Handed/Reaver - 3% Rogue/Archer/Tempest - 3% Warrior/Weapon and Shield/Champion - 3%

Mage/Necromancer - 4%

Rogue/Archer/Artificer - 5% Rogue/Archer/Assassin - 5% Rogue/Daggers/Tempest - 5%

Rogue/Daggers/Assassin - 8%

Mage/Rift Mage - 30%

Mage/Knight-Enchanter - 32% 3. Did the Inquisition form an alliance with the Mages or with the Templars?

Mages - 86%

Templars - 14% 4. Who was left behind in the Fade?

Alistair - 5%

Loghain - 9%

Hawke - 29%

Stroud - 57% 5. Did the Inquisition give the Wardens a second chance?

Yes - 89%

No - 11% 6. Who rules Orlais?

Gaspard - 1%

Celene - 10%

Gaspard as Briala's puppet - 14%

Truce between all parties - 32%

Celene and Briala - 43% 7. Who drank from the Well of Sorrows?

Morrigan - 48%

The Inquisitor - 52% 8. Who becomes Divine Victoria at the end of DA:I?

Vivienne - 7%

Cassandra - 18%

Leliana - 75% 9. What happened to the Inquisition at the end of Trespasser?

The Inquisition continues in the service of Divine Victoria - 17%

The Inquisition was disbanded - 83%

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

A big thank you to:

@themightynej

@rotaryshakes

@slothsoep

@ladyotakukiut

@ellie-shy

@spaaace-ace

@infinitediversities

@missrosequeen

@re-venge

@tokyopewpew

@ennayeliah

@alesdaer

@what-ever-this-is-man

@maintitle

@doves-wing

@filbert-weevil

@robinthewarden

@flashyxtemplar

@0rzammar

@bonniemikaelson

@darthbootchie

@gugle1980

@hawkgirlriot

@huneybumble7

@onelessvenatori

@stillpanicking

@stuckyonbucky

@wildefiction

@animusrisunovatur

@anulindale

@azinareens

@cullens-babe

@energeticbasilisk

@fadejumper

@humonster

@joyfulpolicehologram

@krampus236

@maleficarmage

@mortalitasdeeznuts

@soft4sana

@themagnusbane

@thereiswarathand

@touchofweave

@tyralily

@witch-light

@witchybullshit

@littleballofanxiety

@precious-gem-of-a-cat @onlypartiallystars

@spiders-scribbles @titanwolfackerman @nervousparsnip @sowrongbutsowrite @argonian-at-heart @too-caught-up-in-moves @yjannu @lilywasx and also to everyone who didn't want to be tagged, plus everyone who spelled their user names wrong! I figured out some of the typos but some of you left me some crazy riddles hehe. <3

[yoonkinii]

How y♡u met Sukuna again (and got his number)!

Warning(s): Literally one curse word Requests open (only for this AU) Masterlist (Check for more AU content here)

Coincidences are curious things, often catching many off guard. You certainly didn’t expect one as you sat at a campus picnic table across from your close friend, Shoko, a fellow biology major. 

What started as a casual lunch meet up quickly turned into you babbling on and on about your encounter with the ‘hot uncle’ you met at work. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen him, and he hasn’t returned. Perhaps it was foolish to hope he’d come back just so you could steal glances at his gorgeous face, but you couldn’t help it. 

“I think I missed my chance, Shosho.” You sighed, sipping from the smoothie you had just purchased from a nearby smoothie bar. “We could’ve been soulmates.”

Your friend, eyes heavy with fatigue, rolled her eyes and poked at her lunch with her fork. “Do you realize how crazy you sound right now? You don’t even know his name.”

“It’s not about that though!” You scoffed, face falling  as you voice your laments. “This is about me and some hot guy with pink hair.” 

“You mean pink hair like that?”

Casting a confused glance at Shoko, you follow her pointing finger. When your eyes landed on the scene behind you, your mouth dropped open. Quickly turning back to face Shoko, you shrank in on yourself.

“Oh my God, that’s his nephew.” 

Shoko hummed, arms crossed as she stared nonchalantly. You gasped and kicked her under the table. She hissed, her irritated gaze snapping to you. “What the hell?”

“Yeah, what the hell, Shoko? Why are you just staring?” You whisper urgently, leaning in toward her as if Yuji might hear, even though he was still a good distance away.

“Quit acting like that before people start looking at you.” She retorts, pointing a finger at you.  “You’re the one that looks insane right now.” 

“I can’t help it, ” You mutter, “I was just talking about his uncle and how I wanted to bag him. It's like the universe is telling me something.” 

“Hopefully telling you to shut up.”

“Watch it.”

The corner of Shoko’s lip curved into a half smile. “I think you should watch it cause it seems that pink haired boy is making his way over here.”

Anxiety pooled in your stomach as your eyes widened. “You’re lying.”

Your dear friend couldn’t respond before your name was called out, drawing the attention of everyone around. Wishing you could sink into the ground at the moment, you turned to look over your shoulder. 

There Yuji was, waving energetically with a big grin on his face. Two other students trailed behind him: a boy with black hair who looked like he regretted every moment, and a girl with a brown bob who eyed you with curiosity, glancing between Yuji and you. 

“It’s been a while, miss Y/n! How have you been?” 

You offered Yuji a welcoming smile. “Hello, Yuji. It’s surprising to see you here.” You weren’t surprised he knew your name, given that name tag you’re required to wear at work. 

Shono snorts, hiding her laughter behind her hand as you slipped into a customer service mindset. You decided not to reprimand your friend, not with Yuji and his friends around. Turning to cuss out a friend isn’t something teenagers should witness from adults. You couldn’t help but glance at the other two standing behind Yuji. 

“Oh! These are my friends.” A jolt of shock rushed over you as Yuji spoke. He must have noticed you eyeing his companions.  “This is Megumi Fushiguro.” Yuji gestures towards the black-haired boy, who simply nodded, eyes downcast.  It was surprising to see someone who looked so gloomy be friends with Yuji. 

“I’m Nobara Kugisaki,” the girl interjected before Yuji could introduce her himself.

You smiled warmly, addressing Yuji’s friends. “Hello, you two. I’m Y/n, and this girl across from me is Shoko, a friend of mine.” Shoko waved her fingers in acknowledgement, more focused on finishing her lunch than engaging with high schoolers. 

“Let’s cut to the chase. How do you know Yuji?”

 You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in mild exasperation. “I met Yuji once at my workplace. He needed some assistance, and that’s about it,” you explained, noticing Nobora nodding thoughtfully at your response. “Now,” you continue, redirecting the conversation, “what brings you guys here?”

“School trip,” Megumi replied plainly.

“Already on school trips to colleges?” Shoko interjected, her eyes glued to her phone as she multitasked between typing and adding to the conversation. 

Nobora sighed, leaning against Yuji’s side. “Yeah, the school wants us to make connections and all that,” she says in a mocking tone, pulling a face for emphasis. You couldn’t help but snort at her antics, shaking your head. 

“Well, it’s better than sitting at a desk all day.”

“True.” Nobora agrees, Yuji nodding his head in contemplation. 

Megumi checks his phone for the time, glancing briefly before returning it to his pocket. “We need to go. It’s almost time for us to regroup.”

“Oh crap!” Yuji exclaims, eyes widening slightly. He waves goodbye to you and even to Shoko as he and his friends dash off to their designated meeting spot. Nobora’s shouts echo behind them as she begrudgingly follows, lamenting her dislike towards running. 

Shaking your head at their lively departure, you turn to  face Shoko. She glances up from her phone.  “So that’s the nephew? Seems like a handful.”

“You think everything’s a handful, Sho.”

She hums pleasantly, “True.”

You slouch, resting your head against the picnic table. “I was so scared his uncle was going to appear out of nowhere.”

“Now that would’ve been amusing to watch.”

“Have I ever told you that I despise you?”

“Hmm, I can’t recall.” Shoko teases, her eyes never leaving her phone. 

Yes, coincidences were a curious thing. There was no rhyme or reason to them; they simply happened without warning. Even as you stood behind the register, mechanically scanning, bagging, and collecting payments, your mind wandered elsewhere - or rather, fixated on someone else. 

You released a deep sigh for what felt like the umpteenth time. No matter how hard you tried to focus, thoughts of Yuji’s uncle always entered your mind. No man has ever affected you like this, not even the countless celebrities you idolized in your teenage years. You attributed it to his striking; there was no other explanation for why the mere thought of him made your heart race.

Another sigh escaped you as a customer approached your register, placing a full basket of items on the conveyor belt. Your body moved on autopilot, instinctively grabbing the basket once it was close enough and beginning to ring up the items.

You froze, hands hovering above the register screen as you prepared to input the code for a cucumber. Slowly, your eyes trailed up, unable to believe your ears. There he stood, the man who has been constantly occupying your thoughts, now right before you. It was a moment that nearly stopped your heart. Gone was the casual attire from the time you saw him; now he wore something formal- a white dress shirt with long sleeves peeking from under a charcoal-colored vest. His trousers matched, tailored to fall in clean lines all the way to his black dress shoes. His formal attire created a heavy contrast against his pierced and tattoo appearance but it somehow made him look even hotter than before. 

You were seriously going to die. 

He met your gaze with a bored expression, eyes heavy-lidded with sleep. 

Your brain went into overdrive, thoughts racing like a cacophony of buzzing bees. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. Quickly snapping your mouth shut, embarrassment heating the tips of your ears as you resumed ringing up his items. 

Nerves got the best of you; you couldn’t muster up a response. You knew you should’ve said something- after all, only God knew when you’d see him again- but your mind drew blank. It wasn’t until he paid and walked out the store that you groaned in frustration at yourself. 

You stared at the entrance of the store for a few moments, your mind consumed by thoughts of this man whose name you didn’t even know, practically making you unable to continue to properly do your job. 

“Fuck it,” You muttered to yourself, apologizing hastily to the customer as your register as you hurriedly exited from behind the counter and bolted out of the building. 

Ignoring all the alarms sounding in your head- all the ‘what ifs’ and doubts- you scanned both sides of the sidewalk. Spotting him wasn’t difficult; he hadn’t gotten far, and the streets were sparsely populated; not to mention he stuck out from a typical crowd of people. 

“Wait!” You called out, sprinting to catch up to him. It didn’t take long to reach him, but even then, you were slightly winded. He paused at the sound of your footsteps approaching, turning to look at you. 

You took in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You ignored the slight tremble in your hand and the fear churning in your stomach. Disregarding all rationality, you reached into your back pocket, pulling out your phone, and unlocking it with practiced ease. With a few quick clicks against the screen, you accessed your contact list. 

“Your number-” You stammered, swallowing deeply. You couldn’t even meet his gaze as you held out your phone. “Can I have your number, please?”

Moments stretched into excruciating silence as you stood there, eyes fixed on the floor, phone extended toward him. Your courage felt fleeting, certain you might die on the spot if you saw his expression. An apology hovered on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill out when his unexpected voice broke the silence.

“My number?” He mused, humming softly as he leaned in closer. You inhaled sharply, inhaling an earthy sandalwood as he got closer to you. You met his gaze instinctively, your heart skipping a beat. A playful glint sparkled in his eyes as he looked down at you, a smirk tugging at his full lips. 

“Do you even know how old I am?”

Licking your lips nervously, you asked in a soft voice, “How old are you?”

A breathy laugh fell from his lips, the deep sound sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m 32, sweetheart.” 

Your breath hitched at the endearment, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation. “Even better,” you murmur. 

He chuckled, clearly amused by your response. Balancing his groceries in one hand, he deftly took hold of your phone with the other. His thumb moved effortlessly over the screen, swiftly entering his information before handing it back to you. “I’ll expect a message from you soon.”

You stared at your phone in disbelief, blinking as if the number might vanish. When you looked up to thank him, you realized he had already disappeared. A smile crept onto your lips, your body tingling with excitement as you gazed at his name. 

Sukuna. His name was Sukuna.

-

Taglist (open): @kalulakunundrum

[eevees-hobbies]

cockwarming with ren , he's impatient but when you're a brat? yeah no that's his favourite thing ever.

also I should probably sign off as an emoji :3 , so call me 💌 anon ! :P

💌 anon?! Welcome back <3 So, like, we’re official, right? I love that for us–I’ll tuck you away nicely in my pocket, and as long as you sign off for me, I’ll include your love letter emoji in my tag <3

So cockwarming, huh? With Kaji? Wow. I can see the vision, babe.

Content Warning: vindictive, manipulative brattyness, jealousy, just the tip, clit smacking, cockwarming, teasing, choking, begging, validation. Minors Do Not Interact.

You’ve been pushing Kaji’s buttons all day—first, by not responding to his text messages promptly, which resulted in palpitations on his end. Were you ok? Were you safe? He was ready to go on a rampage until you answered with a one-worded “K” that made his eyebrow twitch. He had sent you a link to a song you requested. What made you think responding “K” to I Prevail’s Body Bag was appropriate anyway? It’s a good fucking song! Deep breaths, Kaji…

Then you were being far too friendly with Sakura. He watched as you dragged your hand, which he kisses, along Sakura’s chest. And what the fuck were you laughing at? He’s not even funny. Even deeper breaths, Kaji…

And your worst crime? Your worst offense? Not getting up to hug him as he walked through the door. You stayed on your phone, silently laughing at some dumb cat video that was probably AI-generated! Sure, you smiled at him and said, “welcome home, Kaji,” But where the fuck was his hug?

While Kaji wonders what’s gotten into you, you’re silently rejoicing in delight as you sneak a look at your flustered boyfriend. The truth is, you know exactly what you’re doing. A riled-up Kaji is an absolute monster of a man in the bedroom.

So later that night, when you wiggle your ass enticingly against his crotch as he’s spooning you, you fully expect to be left a blubbering, crying, fucked-out mess.

But what you didn’t plan on was Kaji being onto you. As he lifts the slip of your nightgown and presses his dick against your already wet folds, slipping the tip in, you brace yourself in excited anticipation to accept the entirety of his girthy cock.

But you wait, and wait, and wait. 

You blink and look over your shoulder, ready to question him and his inactivity, but you're met with the meanest scowl you’ve ever seen. It makes you turn around quickly and bow your head.

“K-kaji?”

“What?”

“Um, you, um, just put the tip in?”

“And?”

And? And? And? The word repeats in your head as you realize that maybe you fucked up today. Maybe you pushed him a little too far. 

But perhaps you could just move a little to get things going? After all, this was your baby boy, and he couldn’t resist your charm-

“Move an inch, and I’ll pull out.”

You almost gasp at his tone, at his unwillingness to budge, at how hot he sounds when he reprimands you like this.

Kaji snakes an arm around your front, slipping it in between your breasts and locking his fingers around your throat. He moves closer to you, which gives you about half an inch more of his cock but not nearly enough to satiate you.

“You’ve been awful all day,” his fingers tighten around your throat, and you swallow thickly, hoping that the constraint of his hand around your windpipe gives you a good high.

“Kaji I-”

“You speak when I tell you to speak.”

Oh, god, fuuuuuuck.

You can’t help but pulse around his dick; the way his voice growls in your ear is heavenly.

Kaji, who is not an idiot by any means, narrows his eyes at your blatant show of arousal, “you wanted this.”

No shit.

You shake your head like a good little girl, though.

“Don’t lie to me.” His grip tightens around your throat, and in what feels like a ridiculously cruel overreaction, Kaji reaches around and delivers a swift smack to your clit.

You yelp and backtrack immediately, your voice hampered by the pressure he has around your neck, “O-ok! Yes!”

Silence befalls you, and you’re thankful that you can at least get your bearings to allow the burning sensation in your pussy to subside.

“I guess I should reward you for your honesty,” Kaji says rather quietly, but you pay no mind to the volume of his voice. You only hear him offer a sweet reward, which you hope is in the form of him finally splitting you open.

And to your absolute delight, Kaji pushes into you, stretching your lush, silky walls with firm, thick muscle. You tremble and brace again for more, but Kaji is not feeling merciful.

Instead, he stays like that, cock buried inside of you but unmoving, and it feels absolutely torturous.

But what can you do? You did this to yourself, so maybe you should think twice about acting like you have absolutely no good sense.

You rack your brain, thinking of what could put you back in his good graces. An apology? Gross, no. Begging? You’re not above it.

“Kaji,” you say carefully, “I really want you to fuck me. Like really badly, baby.”

You feel him twitch inside of you–your sweet voice hard to resist, and you know it, but petty is forever.

“I told you to stop talking.” Another swift slap is delivered to your aching and drooling mound, and tears start to well up in the corner of your eyes.

You feel shifting behind you, the sound of a drawer opening and the unmistakable sound of a wrapper being removed and candy knocking against teeth as Kaji places a sucker in his mouth.

You sniffle, realizing that he could most likely do this all night.

The sniffle you make earns you another twitch of his cock.

Sadistic bastard.

It feels like an agonizing amount of time before Kaji speaks again, “bounce back on my dick like a good girl.”

And you’re so eager to fulfill his request that without a second thought, you roll your hips, quickly jerking off his cock with your cunt. You can hear him groan, and it sounds like a melody in your ears—his vocal validation serving as a high you didn’t know you needed.

But between your bounces, you need something else from him that you so desperately crave. “Kaji,” you whine, “say sweet things to me, please.”

And if only you knew how hard it was for him to hold back sweet, loving words from you this entire time, perhaps you would have waited just a bit longer because he was going to break soon, anyway.

Kaji moans and places a hand on your hip. “My baby, I love you so much.”

There it is. 

“I love you too, Kaji. I love you so fucking much.”

And it’s like a dam breaks, your words giving way to thrusts that are now meeting your bounces, Kaji moaning things like, “this pussy is mine, right baby?” “I’ve missed you all day. Did you miss me?” “You feel so good. Fuck, bounce just like fucking that.”

And you agree loudly to anything and everything he says because it’s his, his, his. 

And you swear you can hear a whimper behind you, his grip on your hip almost painful as he pulls out so far that just the tip is inside you and thrusts forward, filling you back up again.

And as Kaji continues to fuck you, you can’t help but think that you ended up getting what you wanted anyway.

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 5

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Johnny recovers slowly.

-

Fifteen minutes? Simon messages you. A flare going up in the darkness, an SOS signal even if you don’t know the accuracy of the analogy. But he doesn’t hear back from you that day.  Maybe what little luck he had left that wasn’t bad luck has run out. Maybe you realized that you had no real reason to be guilty, that Soap had stepped out in front of your car on purpose. You didn’t owe them anything. 

Simon wishes he could swallow that flare back up, eat it whole, let it burn him alive, but he can’t. Johnny needs him. 

Ever since the seizure, it’s been one bad pain day after another. The seizure itself was rough on his body, but so was how hard Soap fought afterwards, dealing himself damage that he didn’t even have the processing yet to tally up. 

Like clockwork he’s requiring those little green pills, choking them down on empty stomachs. Simon even has to break out what’s left of the sublingual morphine which they hadn’t used since Johnny first came home from inpatient rehabilitation. Only then will Johnny manage to fall into fitful sleeps wracked with nightmares and phantom pains from his missing arm. He cancels all therapy that week, hoping Johnny will return to his baseline soon. Hoping for the days he used to wish away. 

It’s hell on earth. Simon lays in bed beside him, ready to wake him from another nightmare, going on three days without sleep and he wishes that he had been the one in the helicopter instead. Wishes that it had killed him, since he can’t ever wish death on Johnny. Not ever. Not even when his boy begs for it. 

His phone buzzes, and it’s you: I’m free in twenty. Still need me?

Badly. Simon can’t remember the last time he showered. All he wants is fifteen minutes to scrub himself clean and feel human again. All he says though is: Yeah.

You appear just past twenty minutes later wearing a diner uniform. It’s cute: tight pants that hug your thighs and hips, a white button-down blouse tucked in, demarcation where your name tag used to rest.

Simon opens the door and ushers you in, somber-faced, like a pallbearer at a funeral. He goes to the bedroom door and glances in to make sure Johnny is out—there should be no waking him for the next two hours, but if there is one thing Simon has learned, it’s that God Laughs. 

“He asleep?” you whisper, lingering a healthy distance away. 

“Out like a light. I just need fifteen minutes in the shower.”

“I’ll watch him,” you whisper. Then you add: “I looked it up, by the way. What a seizure looks like. Just in case.”

Simon’s stomach drops between his knees. It takes him several heartbeats to realize that he isn’t nauseous out of any fear response, but out of sheer fucking gratitude. The feeling cuts through the fog in his mind like a knife through butter, and he feels like he sees you for the first time: your hair back away from your face, your healing bruises (and the new one on your chin), the embarrassed desperation in your eyes. You’ve latched on to Johnny too, he can tell, likely by some misguided guilt from almost hitting him with your car. But it’s there. He has a feeling that if Johnny were to take a dive off the balcony, he’d be taking you with him. 

You are completely unhinged. Borderline mad, even. Exactly what Johnny needs to keep him alive. 

“Fifteen minutes,” says Simon again before slipping into the bathroom, clean clothes tucked under his arm. When he resurfaces, only 11 minutes have passed. The military taught him everything he could need to know about thorough but expeditious showers. 

You are sitting at the dining table, having chosen the seat that gives you the best vantage point of Johnny’s sleeping figure in the next room through the doorway. Simon expected to find you on your phone, scrolling away, but it is nowhere in sight. You have sat perfectly still, watching Johnny. It would almost be eerie if he didn’t appreciate it so goddamn much. 

“We need to talk about this arrangement,” you say, clasping your hands together. You’re shaking. 

“You want out.” 

“What? No!” You both glance toward the bedroom, but Johnny snores on, in the throes of morphine-fueled dreams. When you speak again, it is quieter: “I don’t mind helping, but I can only check my phone at certain times of the day.”

This is the part where Simon asks why. But the question sticks to the back of his tongue like something unsavory. A more important question: can he afford to care why beyond what it means for him and for Johnny? The bottom line is that there will be long stretches of time where you’re unavailable. He can live with that. He’s been living with it, hasn’t he? 

“I’ll only ever need you when he’s asleep. If he knew I was letting you watch over him, he’d blow his top. I mean that literally.” Simon stands. “You want tea?”

“Tea?” You blink at him like the word does not compute. “Yes, please. Thank you, I mean.” 

“Just tea, don’t get worked up over it,” he mutters, going to put the kettle on. He needs a minute to fucking think. 

This goes against everything he was ever taught. The foundation of his personality is self-reliance, and it has been since he was a boy, since he learned that he couldn’t rely on adults for anything resembling stability. Asking for help feels like tossing up the white flag, like admitting he’s in too deep and he can’t take it anymore. It feels like failing Johnny. 

But there’s construction going on inside him. Those pillars of his personality are being torn down, and in their place something more important is being formed: a shrine to the only person who’s ever loved him that wasn’t his mother. If it’s good for Johnny, Simon must do it, even if it feels strange, even if it goes against all the strategies that have kept him alive in the past. 

When he brings tea back to the table, you try to drink it right away, scalding your tongue. 

“Slow,” Simon says. He didn’t even get the chance to offer you any milk or sugar. 

Face warm as the tea, you drink slower, tongue likely numb. The silence between you grows, adds up, and he catches you more than once looking toward the digital clock inlaid on the stove, like you are nervous and counting down the moments until you can escape. Like Simon frightens you. Fifteen minutes pass and more. You drain your cup. 

“I should go,” you say at length.

“Alright.”

“Thank you for the tea.” 

“Don’t thank me.”

You just nod and slip out of the apartment, quietly shutting the door behind you. Simon sits there for a long time after you’re gone, thinking over the arrangement. Thinking over you. 

You’re in trouble. He just can’t decide if he can afford to take on any more trouble right now. 

His tea has cooled by the time Johnny stirs in the other room, calling out for more pills. 

-

It does get easier. Tooth and nail they fight for every peaceful moment until they are able to string two of those moments together, and then two becomes three. Johnny is back to his old self—often angry, still pained, but with glimmers of the man Simon used to know shining beneath it all like diamonds under dirt. 

Therapy starts again, and so do Johnny’s tasks. 

The tasks aren’t therapy. They’re Johnny’s idea: each few days he picks a task that he used to be able to do before the accident and commits himself to relearning it. 

Today that tasks is unlocking the front door. He stands with his forehead against the oak, knowing Simon is somewhere on the other side, having heard him turn the deadbolt. 

The door has three locks. There is the handle which is the only one the apartment building originally supplied them with. There is the sliding lock, which Simon had installed on day two in the new apartment. It is only ever locked at night when both of them are home, and it is easy enough for Johnny to guide the wide end into the slot. Then there is the deadbolt, also installed by Simon, and easily the trickiest lock of all. Usually it requires the strength of two hands to unlock comfortably—but Soap’s down a hand and short on patience. 

“Jesus, get me in this apartment. Amen,” he mutters.

The key shakes in his hand as he guides it to the lock. It takes some fumbling, but he gets it after just a few moments. Then he must twist while pulling outward at the same time. It uses muscles in his arms that have grown weak with disuse. The key catches for a moment but then slides out of the lock uselessly. He pulled too hard; he did not twist hard enough. 

It’s a delicate balance, one he had perfected without even trying months ago when they moved in. Now it seems like a cruel and unusual punishment. If he can’t get this fucking door open, he’ll sleep out here, undeserving of his own bed. In his mind, the voice of encouragement does not sound so much like the calm soothing tones of Andy—his physical rehabilitation therapist—but instead the borderline abusive dialect of his superiors during his time in the military, the ones who had only ever cared about results and not much about the bodies getting those results. 

Footsteps come from the open elevator, and Johnny casts an irritated glance only to see that it is you. You are dressed for exercise, clingy clothes with running shoes and a baggy top thrown on over everything, drooping off of one of your shoulders. At the sight of you, Johnny remembers the lengths you went to to help him light his cigarette and his heart throbs with fondness, some of his anger evaporating like fog burnt off by the morning sun. 

“Afternoon, lass.” 

“Hi, Johnny,” you murmur, voice near a whisper as you cast a glance toward your own door. Maybe you are thinking about running from him. “Are you having trouble?” 

Johnny’s good mood dissipates. “No,” he lies. “Yes. I don’t fucking know.” 

“Can I help?”

“No,” he snaps. “I have to do this myself.”

“Where’s Simon?” 

“Inside.” 

“He’s locked you out?”

“Aye.” 

Your face changes. He knows you so little that it takes a moment for him to identify the expression for what it is: apoplectic rage. Your hands have clenched into fists at your sides, brows drawn low over your eyes as you glare a hole through the door. You reach out and take Johnny’s hand. He’s so fucking surprised that he drops the damn key. 

“Johnny,” you say. “You can tell me. Are you in trouble?”

“What sort o’ trouble?” 

“Simon. Is he good to you?” 

“Bastard eats my cereal and leaves the empty box behind, but aye, he’s good to me. Better than good. What’s all this about, hen? Simon locking me out? I only asked him to, that’s all—let’s me practice with the key, so I can open it on my own again,” says Johnny, stroking his thumb along your knuckles. 

You let go of him like you’ve been burned, face mortified. “Oh, God. I’m sorry Johnny. I misunderstood. Let me just—”

You bend down and retrieve the key, handing it to him. You can barely look him in the eye as you mumble a goodbye and rush past him into your own apartment, shutting the door solidly behind you. 

Johnny stares after you for a long moment, key held limply in his hand, mind far from the door. At last, he puts the key back into the lock. 

Twist, pull. 

[downbadsturns]

i'm right here, baby - c.s

in which ~ harper attempts to end her life and chris saves her before it's too late (happy ending!)

warnings ~ self harm, ed, death threats, mentions of death, hospitals, needles, anxiety, (whatever triggers)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

chris was never a boyfriend who ignored your own thoughts and feelings, instead he'd think your own was better than his.

for example, he said he wanted to have a steak dinner, but that didn't strike your fancy, so he told nick to turn the grill off and save the steak for later.

or, when he didn't want taylor swift but remembered you're a huge fan, so he told matt to turn on "long live"

but today, you thought of the worst.

what if, he was only doing this to make you happy?

no, thats stupid.

scrolling on the comments of your latest instagram post of you and the triplets at the beach, your heart dropped, all filled with "kill yourself ugly bitch" or "i can see your bones"

you've had major body issues since that one kid on playground said you looked like santa claus at 8 years old, after suffering an eating disorder your freshmen year, and the aftermath, familes telling you to gain weight, you did, but they still told you to.

a few days later, the death threats keep on getting worse, you told chris that you could ignore it, but really, you were refusing help, which lead you to sitting on the ledge of the bathtub, looking at your prescripted meds for depression.

you open the orange capsule, looking at the blue 200 mg tablets, wondering,

is it worth it? really?

without heasiation, you consume all of them, at first, you felt fine and stood up,

then blacked out.

chris found your unconscious body and started sobbing, screaming for matt and nick, the hurt in his voice was unbearable, all of their voices at that moment were unbearable.

nick struggles to call the ambulance as he's shaking, matt helps him as chris looks at the orange bottle, with nothing in it now.

the paramedics rush in, taking you away, all three of them quickly follow.

you were rushed in as the doctors hook up the machines, chris couldn't even bare to see his girl like this, thinking of the worst.

the doctors don't know if you're going to make it, by all the pills you've took.

chris cries as the doctors try to console him, he doesn't want to lose his girlfriend, he really doesn't.

the doctors say that they can do life shock to see if you'd wake up.

chris nods, his vision blurry from his tears.

the doctor preforms life shock as chris holds your hand

"c'mon harper..." he mumbles

the room went silent, thinkng you didn't make it

suddenly, your eyes flutter open, IV's in both arms, vitals, heart monitor, breathing tube, what the hell happened?

chris smiles widely as he kisses your head, "baby,"

you regain consciousness, "where, where am i?"

chris takes a deep breath, "you almost died."

hearing that makes your heart drop,

"you scared us baby, i thought you were going to die in front of me."

no words said by you, you move over so he can sit on the bed, you pat a spot for him, and he sits there, carefully wrapping you in his embrace

"i'm sorry.." you choke out

"no no no, don't be sorry, you should've told me sooner though,"

he sighs

"and always remember,"

he leans in and whispers,

"i'm right here baby."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: tysm for reading! i upload fluff for fun, and i'm planning on making a couple of oneshots.

kiss kiss, makenna

tags!

@24kmar @cherib3lla @bratzforchris

[blackswankisser]

First ever fic!

Part one

tags; dom!mtf acheron , sub!femreader, size kink, begging, cunnillingus

Warnings; nsfw mdni, microfic

Acheron pushed you down onto the bed with hunger and want, your clothes already off as she began to take hers off as well. Your breathing was heavy as you looked up at her in the rushed state, looking as she threw off her shirt and started unbuckling her jeans.

Your eyes lingered on her stomach and slowly you looked lower, the bulge through her boxers was intimidating, yet intriguing, it excited you.

She wasn’t going to let you have it easy though.

Once her clothes were off she practically pounced onto you, her eyes full of lust and need as she began kissing and nibbling your neck.

A light whimper came out of your throat at the feeling, you can feel her desperation for you through each lick and bite, making the heat between your legs grow wetter.

“Please, Acheron.” You say with a slight shake in your voice.

“Be paitent.”

“I can tell you’re ready..please.”

“I am. But you aren’t,” she slides her hand down your stomach to the top of your underwear, leaning so her mouth is close to your ear, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Don’t rush for what you can’t handle.”

You moan at the sound of her voice in your ear. She continues kissing down your body, at your stomach now, closer than she was before to your core.

While licking and kissing your stomach she pulls down your underwear and looks up at you for permission.

You inhale and nod your head “fuck- please.”

“Please what?”

You sigh, her teasing always gets you. “Please fuck me.”

She grins lightly and grabs your legs to put them over her shoulders.

[cleo-fox]

As the Clock Strikes Midnight - Part IV

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: In which you visit Loki's rooms. Chapter Warnings: Fingering, making out, orgasms, dirty talk, praise kink, more of Loki being a horrendous tease.

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

In the light of morning, this all looks like a very bad idea. You are a servant; he is a prince. There is no future with him, certainly, and while he seems to be infatuated with you at present, there’s no telling how long that particular whim will last. You have no guarantee that he has your best interests in mind. Sneaking around after dark was risky enough in itself when you were just going to the library to read—sneaking to a prince’s bedchamber for activities that most would consider indecent is a level of recklessness that you’ve never even come close to before. If Fritjof finds out about this, you are fairly certain you’ll end up in the dungeons.

But at the same time...the idea is appealing in a way that makes the risk seem worth it. Loki is handsome and clever and you like how his wit is as sharp as your own. You like how he makes you feel. You’d had some relationships before—a short-lived tryst with a handsome stablehand, a brief infatuation with a valet, a whirlwind romance with a merchant—but none of them had ever been quite like this. You hadn’t wanted them like you want Loki...and the thought of Loki wanting you is far more intoxicating than it has any right to be.

You should not go. You want to go. You shouldn’t. You want to. You go back and forth with yourself on this for most of the day, to the point that Anja scolds you for your inattentiveness.

There’s part of you, though, that knows all along what your choice will be.

And so, against every shred of good judgment you possess, you find yourself walking to Loki’s chambers later that evening. It’s a nerve-wracking walk and you find yourself jumping at every shadow, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest with every unexpected noise.

He opens the door before you can knock, almost like he can sense how fragile this is, how close you are to turning around and running back to your room, how wildly your heart is beating in your chest.

You’ve never been in any of the royal chambers before and you’re surprised by how immediately out of place you feel. His rooms are beautifully appointed and it only makes you more aware of the plainness of your work dress, reinforcing the fact that you’re not supposed to be here. You smooth your hands awkwardly against the fabric of your skirts as the door clicks shut behind you.

“Are you nervous?”

His voice startles you slightly, though you certainly haven’t forgotten his presence. You turn to face him, your chin jutting out defiantly.

“I am no maiden, if that’s what you’re asking,” you say.

He laughs quietly. “I wasn’t, but I shall take that under advisement.”

Your cheeks burn—you really need to think more carefully before you speak. It’s just that you’re so wildly out of your element right now that you don’t really know how to act, especially not with Loki looking like he means to undress you with his gaze. At least the library is familiar and dim enough to blunt the wrongness of what you’re doing. These beautiful rooms make you feel exposed and awkward.

You square your shoulders and stare him down as he approaches, trying to ignore the obvious smirk pulling at his lips.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says softly, stopping mere inches in front of you. He reaches up, fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “Are you nervous?”

You swallow and try to keep your face expressionless, even though he can surely feel your heart pounding when his thumb grazes your pulse point. “I suppose I don’t really know what to expect,” you say.

He gives you a rather devilish grin and heat flares between your legs. “I rather think you’ll enjoy it,” he says, taking both of your hands in his as he leads you over to the couch in a little sitting area. “In fact, I intend to make sure of it.”

“Once again, your confidence is inspiring,” you say, though your bravado is mostly to hide your nerves.

He chuckles as he sits down, pulling you into his lap so that you straddle his hips, your skirts riding up to the middle of your thighs. “I am looking forward to quieting that wicked tongue.”

“I thought you were going to endeavor to make me scream,” you say.

He chuckles, his large, warm hands stroking up your legs, pausing at your knees. “So dreadfully impertinent.”

“You like it.”

He hums, his hands inching up your thighs. “Not nearly as much as I like the idea of you becoming pliant and yielding under my touch.”

“You certainly have a high opinion of your ability.”

You say this to bait him and you’re immediately gratified by the dark look in his eyes and his hands coming to rest at the juncture where your hips meet your thighs. Your stomach muscles tense in delicious anticipation.

“Do I?” he murmurs, his fingertips gently grazing the thin layer of fabric that covers your sex. “I can feel how slick you are already and I haven’t even touched you.”

Without realizing it, you’ve tilted your head so that your forehead rests against his and he takes advantage of the closeness, slanting his mouth over yours, sliding his tongue along your lower lip until you open your mouth to him. He is equal parts rough and tender, a combination that leaves your head spinning and intensifies the ache between your legs as his fingers press lightly against you. He nips at your lower lip, soothing the sting with a sensuous swipe of his tongue before luring you back into a slow and seductive rhythm that makes it difficult to think about anything other than the taste of his lips, the dull ache building between your thighs, and the hard length straining at his trousers.

He breaks the kiss to look at you, green eyes boring into yours. Your breath hitches as he pushes the fabric of your undergarments aside, his fingers hovering teasingly over your sex.

Your breath has become rapid and shallow. He looks at you, eyes lust glazed, but still cool and calm and completely in control.

“Tell me what you want, darling.” 

There’s a small part of you that still has the wherewithal to be a little annoyed. Of course this is just another game, another trick to play. The bastard has the gall to look amused at how flustered you are, how you’re practically trembling and panting in anticipation of his touch.

But you’re just lust-crazed enough to play along with his tricks and games and his hand is so deliciously close to where you need him. “Touch me,” you murmur.

You decide to ignore the teasing, triumphant glint in his eyes—for now, at least. One finger strokes the very edge of your sex—not where you need to be touched, not anywhere that brings you relief.

“Here?” he asks, his eyes wide with feigned innocence.

You have enough presence of mind to scowl at him. “You know what I want.”

His grin is devilish. “Perhaps I want to hear it from you.”

You sigh, but you decide it’s worth it. “I...I want you to make me come.”

His eyes take on a dark and hungry focus that makes you shiver and his fingers finally—finally—part the slick folds of your sex, circling the swollen nub of your clit. Your eyes close and you let out a breath, a soft moan falling from your lips.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he murmurs.

“Smugness doesn’t suit you,” you say.

He gives a low laugh. “We both know that’s a lie.” He slides one finger inside of you and you can’t help the whimper that falls from your lips. “So slick already,” he murmurs, his thumb sliding up to rub your clit. “Did you touch yourself after I left you last night?”

You had certainly considered it—he had you wound so tightly that it took you nearly an hour to fall asleep. But you also suspected that he would make you wait another night if you took matters into your own hands and you were fairly certain you would die if you had to wait any longer, so you refrained, as difficult as it was.

“No,” you say and the look on his face when he realizes that you’re not lying almost makes the sexual frustration worth it.

“No?” he says, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck. “Even after I left you so terribly unsatisfied?”

“You told me you would make it worth my wait,” you say, your hips rocking with his hand. “So I waited.”

The look he gives you is dark and hungry and a little wild. “Good girl,” he purrs and you tighten reflexively around his fingers. You’re almost embarrassed by the effect that his words have on you, but you can’t bring yourself to care overly much, not with the way his fingers are moving inside of you and how his thumb is rubbing those perfect little circles against your clit. Your eyes shut and your head tips back as you moan. A warm, pulsing heat is building in your belly, rising like a tide, waiting to sweep you under.

“Yes,” he breathes, “that’s lovely, darling, you’re so responsive.”

You keen at his words and his fingers curl inside of you, pressing firmly against a spot that makes you see stars.

“Look at me,” he says in that purr of a voice. You somehow summon the concentration to raise your head and lift your eyes to him. “I want to hear you, do you understand?” he says. “No holding back.”

The pleasure is becoming unbearable and you can feel yourself tensing around his fingers, poised on the edge, about to fall. You whimper, your fingernails digging into his shoulders, hips rocking. 

“That’s it, you’re almost there.” His breathing is slightly heavy and he’s looking at you like you’re something wonderful. The hunger in his eyes summons a bolt of longing in you that translates to a physical ache in your hips. The thought of him wanting you like that is a kind of intense thrill that you’ve never felt before—so intense, in fact, that it’s enough to give you that final nudge over the edge and you come with a soft cry.

“Lovely.” He reaches for you and pulls you into a lazy kiss as you ride out the wave of your high. You sigh against his mouth and he nips at your lower lip. “But you were holding back,” he says.

You’re about to ask him why he thinks that, but his hand is moving again and it’s distracting, to say the least. 

“I suppose I’ll just have to make you come again,” he says with a mock sigh, his voice coming out as a bit of a growl. “Do try to follow my instructions this time.”

Distantly, you note that this is the sort of thing that requires a smart and snappy reply, which would be forthcoming if his fingers weren’t doing such unspeakably good things between your legs. With anyone else, it would be too much too close to your previous orgasm, but Loki has an almost uncanny sense of how to touch you. He is coaxing something warm and wicked out of those aftershocks, something that is building low in your hips, making you tighten around his fingers. You’re panting, a needy whimper falling from your lips.

“Yes, darling,” he murmurs, his eyes sliding over you appreciatively. “I want to hear you scream for me. No holding back this time.”

The thing is, you’re not sure you can hold back, even if you wanted to. It’s become rapidly apparent that you’re going to come again and by the way your whole body seems to be anticipating it, you’re fairly certain it’s going to be more intense than the last time.

“Oh, you’re so close,” he purrs. “I can feel that.”

Your breath stutters in your throat as you feel your body tense tighter and tighter, hurtling toward a glorious release.

But then just before you tip back over the edge, he stops, his hand stilling, lips pulling into a smirk. You let out a frustrated whine, your hips moving fruitlessly as you try to capture what had been so easily in your grasp mere seconds ago.

“Something you want, love?” he asks lightly, not even bothering to hide the laugh from his voice.

There’s some distant part of you that’s a little disappointed by how quickly you resort to begging, but you can’t bring yourself to care right now, not while you feel so wildly unsatisfied. “Please don’t stop, please.”

“Are you going to follow my instructions this time?” he asks. “Are you going to scream for me?”

“Yes, yes, please, I promise, please don’t stop, please, please—”

His fingers curl inside of you and begin moving again and you moan loudly, partly from relief and partly because you’re so close and can’t help it and partly because you don’t want him to stop again.

“Yes, that’s it, let me hear you,” he breathes.

Everything seems to slow as the building pressure in your hips suddenly crests and expands. You cry out—almost embarrassingly loudly—as your muscles spasm and release into a rush of feeling that makes your insides fizz. It seems to go on for ages, the aftershocks rolling through you, coaxed on by Loki’s still thrusting fingers and the soothing rumble of his low voice in your ear.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss against your neck.

You lean on his shoulder, your legs trembling as you try to catch your breath. He runs a hand down the column of your spine, gently pressing you against his chest.

You allow yourself to rest for a moment as he strokes your back, your head pillowed against his chest. It’s nice, sitting here like this, though you know you can’t allow yourself to become too sentimental, grow too attached. This is lovely, but temporary. You’d do well to remember that.

After a moment, you sit back up, leaning in to kiss him. He’s soft and languid in his movements—every time you try to draw him deeper, he resists just slightly, giving you just enough to make you long for him even more.

“Do you want more?” he asks, his lips barely moving from yours.

You’re well past the point of pride now. Sated and sweaty as you feel, there’s a lingering ache between your legs, a need for something more than what his fingers could provide. “Yes. Please,” you sigh, fingers tangling in his hair.

He presses a chaste kiss against your lips. “Come back tomorrow after dark.”

You pull back from him, frowning. “You’re not serious,” you say.

“I’m quite serious,” he says lightly, not quite able to hide the amusement from his expression. “I would hate to overexert you.”

Your eyes narrow. “My constitution is quite hearty, I assure you.”

He chuckles and slides out from underneath you. “I believe a very clever woman once told me that a little chase makes the conquest all the sweeter,” he says, standing.

You are not sure if you are more furious with him or with yourself. Of course that line would come back to bite you. Of course. You are slightly too distracted by your own fury and absentmindedly take his hand when he offers it to you.

“Perhaps I won’t be inclined to participate in the conquest,” you say sourly as you stand. “Perhaps I won’t return tomorrow.”

He leans in and kisses you, his tongue expertly parting your lips and returning some of the ardor that he had denied you earlier and that’s all it takes for you to immediately undercut your own point. You press wantonly against him, your fingers threading through his hair.

He is smirking when he pulls back. “I rather think you will.”

You scowl, knowing that he’s right.

Next chapter coming soon

[smallestapplin]

First time with jazz

Sorry for posting this yet again, I apparently don't know how to tag in a new fandom like a nerd, and something went wrong with it so here goes to round 2

Warning! : Reader is human,brief mentions of squirting. GN but has a womb and cervix. Yes, I know my size kink is showing.

-

-

Imagine taking Jazz for the first time👀

Him having you on his lap, your legs spread wide and hanging off either side of his. Your back is too his chest, but despite that, with his size he has a perfect view of you.

He's prepped your smaller body for hours, wanting to make sure his little light was stretched perfectly to take him, though he knows no matter what there will be some more stretching with just how big he is.

Even with mass displacement his spike is still rather large.

"Easy now, baby, I got ya."

You whimper, clinging to his hands that hold you by the hips, raising you up to rub your wet slit back and forth on his weeping spike.

"Jazz...I...haaa!"

"What's the matter little love? Feelin' too good for your pretty valve?"

He chuckles, nearly drooling when you toss your head back against his chest with a soft 'thunk!' just to look up at him with those pretty tear filled eyes.

"Please...."

"Please what, sweetspark? I won't know what ya want unless ya tell me, so c'mon use those sweet words of yours."

You can only whine and try to squirm in his hold, but the large mech's grip is too strong for you to wiggle from. Your words are stuck in your throat, you can feel the embarrassment rising as you realize he's waiting for you to tell him.

Just using his and your juices to slick up his spike, waiting for your orders.

"Please I can't take much more of this." You just know you'd cum soon if he didn't hurry up, you want to cum with his dick inside you this time.

"Jazz, please, I want your spike inside me, please fill me with it."

The large bot trembles, biting his lips once he hears your pleads. You take a sharp intake of air as you're lifted up a little higher, watching as Jazz positions his tip at your entrance.

You reach down putting at least a hold on his cock so he won't slip. Your jaw drops at the stretch just his tip gives you, your pussy struggling just to accept his spike. Jazz leans his head back, trying so hard to stay calm and take it easy as he doesn't want to hurt you.

But holy frag you feel so good. He's thankful for his visor being on, hiding the fact his optics are fluttering and crossing at the tight fit of your valve.

He can feel the muscles of your walls fluttering as well, clenching and unclenching around him. Scrap, it's like you want to make him overload early!

"Shh, you're takin' me so well, Starlight. Takin' my spike like it was meant for you."

He mutters into your ear, as he leans over you to watch your body struggle to accommodate his size, even with all his prepping before hand it still takes so much control to slowly keep pushing himself in.

Tears stream down your face once the pleasure and slight pain get to be too much for you, and he's barely a quarter of the way in.

"I-it's too much, you're too big it's not- mm! not gonna fit."

"It will fit, just gotta trust me. I know you can take it."

Your loud cry makes his spike throb, you just sound so good and look so hot speared open on his shaft like this.

Oh god you can't take it, you can't take much more of his dick! You blink the tears away, trying to see as you look down only to notice a small lump appearing just above your pussy.

He's only half way inside you and he's already bulging your stomach.

"J-Jazz! Ooh fuck! So deep-!!"

Your wail catches him off guard, though he only chokes on his own sounds as you sob, your pussy clenching and squeezing him as if trying to milk his fluid out of him.

You're overloading for the fifth time tonight, his spike being just too much for you.

He can't stop the groan that leaves his voice box, nor can he suddenly control himself. He tosses his head back with a barelt hidden sob, his hips bucking upwards shoving the rest of his spike inside you.

You scream sobbing at the overwhelming feeling of him stuffing your pussy.

"C-cumming!!"

Your juices spraying all over his spike and lap, but it only seems to egg him on. His hands tighten on you hips, keeping you in place, while he fucks up into you, pushing passed your cervix and battering your womb with every thrust.

"Yeah yeah that's it-Scrap! ohh Primus you feel so good! Take it, take my spike- that's a good sweetspark!"

He can feel his fans whirling trying to cool him down, his body covered in a thin layer of coolant, he can barely focus.

You've ruined him.

A squeal rips from your throat, feeling Jazz putting pressure on your stomach just to feel the bulge he's created in you.

"T'much! Oh god you're too deep! Gonna...gonna break-!"

You never expected Jazz would use you like a fleshlight, yet you aren't upset by it, finding yourself addicted to the way his spike fills you.

How much he makes you cum, oh you know you're not moving in the morning.

"C'mon baby, overload with me, c'mon pleasepleasepleaseplease-!"

You're making a mess of him.

You shriek, his thrusts slowing but hips smack against your ass harder, his tip kissing the back of your womb with easy.

Jazz pulls you back, leaning over you and locking his lips with yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth in a sloppy messy kiss.

His and your drool leak down your chin. The kiss muffling your cries, you try to thrash in his hold, feeling his hot transfluid being pumped into your cunt.

Your pussy is already so full from just his spike alone, his spent having no other place to go aside from gushing out from around him.

The sudden spent warming your insides has you cumming again, sobbing against your lovers lips. You grip his shoulders as you shake, it's all too much for you.

You both fall limp once you're both finished, he pulls his tongue from your mouth allowing you both to catch your breaths.

"Fraaag, little light, that was...oh, that was better than I imagined!"

You merely whine, leaning back against his chest. The bot having fucked the ability to talk right out of you.

Only for your eyes to widen with a weak mewl being your only questioning sound.

"Again, please? You feel so good, I can't- just one more, lemme stuff this pretty valve some more, please? haa! practically beggin' me too."

He's insatiable.

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/753829417407676416/i-hate-when-im-reading-a-fic-about-two-cis-male?source=share

Original OP here:

I'm sorry to the people I hurt with my words.

I'm sorry it came across that I think kink = evil = needs to be warned for when I think of tags as tagged = easy to find = can be gotten to by the audience who enjoys it.

I'm sorry "I hate it when [thing happens]" means "I have never seen [thing] before" in English. It's my third language. I had no idea it had that connotation.

I'm sorry I dislike something common in M/M. That is wrong of me.

In conclusion I am sorry and apologize. Jut because I dislike something is not an excuse for saying it. Negative thoughts should stay in my head where they cannot do harm. I know that now. I am sorry.

--

Uhhhh

Are you actually trying to grovel or are you being snide?

Either way, you did not ~do harm~ and the responses weren't saying that. People were just rolling their eyes and telling you you're probably out of luck.

I wouldn't want you to grovel regardless. I think that's a terrible cultural practice that's far too common in online spaces. Even if someone did feel hurt, that would be their emotion to handle, not a sign of wrongdoing.

--

Finding 'bussy' and the like annoying is pretty common. It's just not something that's likely to ever get tagged consistently. Some people do tag though; it's just that most of these tags are unwrangled or are incorrectly wrangled to 'X has a vagina' type tags. Here are some I found in a quick tag search:

Freeform: 'Female' terminology used for Genji's Genitals ‎(1)

Freeform: female terminology used ‎(1)

Freeform: female terminology used for genitalia ‎(1)

Freeform: Female Terminology When Referring To Genitals ‎(1)

Freeform: gendered terminology (female gendered body parts) ‎(1)

Freeform: Jason uses female terminology when talking about Dick's naughty bits ‎(1)

Freeform: Soap uses both male and female terminology ‎(1)

Freeform: tommy uses both male and female terminology to describe dream's anatomy ‎(1)

Freeform: use of female genitalia terminology ‎(1)

Freeform: Use of Female Terminology ‎(2)

Freeform: Use of Female Terminology for Raichi's sexual organs ‎(1)

Or search for 'pussy' and 'ass' in the same tag to come up with a zillion like:

Freeform: 'pussy' in reference to a cis man's ass ‎(1)

Freeform: ((they refer to his ass as pussy oop)) ‎(1)

Freeform: Calling the ass a cunt and pussy ‎(1)

I see these sorts of tags most on trans fic or A/B/O, but they're not unheard of elsewhere.

Offhand, I think this kind of tagging is about like tagging for the use of 'slut': if it's a major kink in the fic or the author thinks it will be especially upsetting in this context/about this character, they'll tag. Otherwise, they'll just assume it's standard dirty talk and doesn't need a special mention.

[bimbombimbo]

thistook like way too long it was supposed to be a doodle

anyways uhhh kid sniper and his trapinch!!! + grown up.. and flygon.. i have been rotating tf2 pokemon in my brain !!

You guys wanna listen to me ramble about tf2 Pokemon so baaad.. go on.. click on the read more thing...

OKAY SO i need to get this out of my system

It's probably obvious that Mick had been a difficult kid (of course, given that he was an outcast probably: the slim, small, weird kid with no body hair) and very much without friends. He'd have been the object of, mockery and nasty jokes and things like that; school sucks buddy!

Applying that into a Pokemon world: Mick would have definitely wanted a huge, strong pokemon. Probably to be able to properly defend himself, one like Kangaskhan, or a Zangoose or a Seviper (or even better, a Charizard just like he'd seen on TV!). Of course, having a strong pokemon would require years of training (and bonding too!), something that required a level of patience little Mick hadn't built yet. So, knowing his way into the woods due to always hanging around there by himself (comfort? escape? who knows), he goes deeper and deeper. Yeah, he tries to catch creatures he deems "strong", and horribly fails, again and again.

During one of these awful attempts, he returns home, frustrated and tired. However, the constant trips to this unknown part of the outback (and, of course, making a lot of noise) had attracted a teeny tiny creature: a Trapinch! The weak link of his group, low level, weak thing (but fierce and with a high defense), its presence isn't recognized until Ms. Mundy finds a lot of her crops missing and others bitten.

Of course, Mick finds the plague and brings it back to the outdoors, away from home. But it refused!Going back to the little boy's house each time it is taken away. Catching it on a small trap, Mick is willing to exterminate it, but something talks to him. Maybe he saw himself in the eyes of that tiny critter (who was struggling in a cage that wasn't made for it), or maybe he learned some empathy from his mother, or maybe he just wanted to contradict his dad. So, he keeps it in the end.

Clearly, the kid doesn't expect much from this, little creature that fits in his backpack (bad idea: he shouldn't have brought it with him to school, now he's also the weird pokemon kid). But still, he feeds it, he brings it with him everywhere (can't trust his dad enough), and slowly gets used to its presence.

The Trapinch soon tags along Mick into his hunting trips. The kid trains his precision with the bow and, in a couple of years later, his dad's rifle. Understands his companion's hunting method too, and slowly begins to train and teach new moves to it. A bond is forming! Through the years, Mick starts seeing the Trapinch as a pet (not that his family didn't had pets, but this one? it was his. the connection was visible between them)

The bullying problem doesn't stop though. Mick learns to avoid it, and avoid telling his parents about it (given that he already defends himself, and he doesn't want to make a fuss out of it). He drops school around his last years, dedicating himself to only hunting for some time, taking about a sixteen/seventeen year-old guy probably.

And wahoo! Word gets around about the quiet guy that headshots all the bunnies and deers and just like that he gets his first actually sniper job. (Not really going into that, let's focus on the pokemon aspect instead)

Trapinch probably evolves around this time. Not an extremely incredible event (some evolutions are televised) but Sniper might have not expected a Big Dragon-Fly. Vibrava is such a cool pokemon tho, it gets a while for Sniper to get used to the new name.

- Fun idea a friend of mine commented: "Vibrava can get him his jars to pee. It can also work as a bomb helicopter or smth: it grabs the jarate, flies above the enemy and drops it in their head"

However I do think they wouldn't have gone in much sniping jobs together, given a feral Vibrava's nature of, uh, the ultrasonic waves thing. It probably goes away a lot, into the outback all by itself. That's fine, but Sniper can't stop thinking his pokemon is going to leave and not come back some day.

Around this time, Sniper gets his contract at RED, travelling to Americs (probably around, 23 years old?) Forgive me for I don't know much about dates and ages! I headcannon Sniper to be in his mid 30's during the comic (Even though I'm pretty sure he's canonically 26, I'm sorry, I can't imagine him being younger than 30)

Sniper brings Vibrava with him into his (recently obtained) van, close to RED headquarters. For obvious reasons, it is not taken into the matches, but it's left out of its pokeball to explore around. At first, it doesn't return to sleep one night. Then it happens more often.

And it finally happens. Vibrava doesn't come back for a day, two days, a week. Of course, Sniper feels devastated, thinking it's gone for good (but leaving his window open everyday, just in case...)

He wakes up one day (or is it night? probably too early to notice), having heard a strong wind move his van. Groggy, goes outside to check if a storm of some kind is approaching, and he'd greeted by an enormous, dragon-bug thing that grabs him by the arms and lifts him up in the sky.

Flygon is way stronger than Vibrava. Bigger, of course, and more active. But still playfully bites at his hands, and still lays on its back demanding belly rubs like a dog (just like it used to do when it was a Trapinch). They go on camping trips together a lot. Sniper could technically go on its back, but he doesn't want to leave the van alone.

Sniper probably looks back to when he was a kid and is glad to not have uh, eliminated the pokemon when he had a chance.

FUCK THAT'S A LOT? i ain't reading allat 😂 if you're here thanks for reading i love you