#well yeah homie you need twice as much fucking fabric what do you think it’s gonna cost

[ny-3aets]

Alright, so I might lose some followers for this, but I don’t care. This is the blog where I get to be honest about my views, so I’m going to be honest about this, too:

“Fatphobia” isn’t fucking real.

Yeah, some people treat others like shit human beings because they jump to conclusions about their circumstances. I’m not denying that. It sucks. However, it doesn’t reach into the territory of some kind of epidemic of oppression because not only is being fat something objective, it’s also not something people are born with and it’s absolutely something that you can change.

”Diet culture“ is only as harmful as you allow it to be if you take everything given to you at face value and don’t do any of your own research or contact someone like a nutritionist or a personal trainer to figure out what specifications work for you. The reason there are hundreds of different diets is because there are hundreds of different people that wrote each of them, and for each of them that specific method works, and it may not work for you.

With that in mind, nothing’s gonna fucking work if you do not commit to it for months or even years. A diet isn’t something you do for a month or two like you’re an actor prepping for a movie and then you get to go back to whatever you were doing before. Maybe if you’re already at a moderate shape and it corresponds to the needs of a new sport you‘re pursuing, it might, but for overall change at a casual pace, this isn’t how it works. You pursue a diet as in, that is your diet now. That is what you eat, period.

Your unhealthy codependency on unhealthy foods because they’ve trained your brain into assuming that they are vital in bringing you comfort and joy is exactly that — unhealthy, codependent behavior. No diet is extreme for asking you to give up desserts or extremely calorie-rich foods — being able to do this means maturing enough to understand that food is just that — food. It’s an energy source, nothing more, nothing less. Whether or not you choose to still eat unhealthy food “every once in a while” is entirely your choice because it’s your body and you can choose what you do with it, but in potentially compromising a diet you‘ve selected, you have absolutely no place to say that a diet does or doesn’t work.

When you start pursuing any diet specifically in order to lose weight however, you need to be at a calorie deficit. This, once again, takes some independent research as well as arithmetic to understand how much of a calorie deficit is right for you, depending on how active your lifestyle is. This isn’t me taking the high ground and pretending to be something I’m not. This is just a fact.

Not all forms of exercise work for everyone. Either go into the gym and obsessively (although safely) try everything for a two-week period at a time, or do intense research, and, if you can afford it (and I’m positive that there are online ones that will offer their services for free or discounted prices from an in-person gym) hire a personal trainer. Hiring a trainer doesn’t negate your research, however — question everything she says, look it up at home, see if there are opinions of other trainers online (YouTube has an entire hub of these guys).

Yes, there are cases in which people have genetic disorders which make it nearly impossible for them to lose weight. Those are A) rare and B) vary in degree of hinderance, meaning in certain circumstances there will absolutely be tons of research right at your fingertips to find a way to maneuver around it.

Yes, the BMI rating is a joke, specifically for people with extreme amounts of muscle mass (as muscle is heavier than fat), but I think you know if you look like Dwayne Johnson or you can achieve some of the same shit as a Sumo wrestler or a Siberian grandma. Either way it’s a mostly arbitrary number, although it can be a rough guide of where you “should” be.

Yes, there are people out there that are fat by societal standards but are more than capable of achieving extreme physical feats. Most of the people competing in throwing events at the Olympics or Strongman events look very different from the hypertrophied Greek statues of bikini competitions. I don’t have to tell you that this requires an extreme amount of training and dedication (and perhaps a winning ticket of the genetic lottery), but if it’s something you achieve, more power to you; I don‘t care.

I am not calling fat people lazy. Anyone can be lazy.

I am not calling fat people selfish. Anyone can be selfish.

I am not calling fat people terrible or disgusting or worthless or whatever the fuck else you want to extract from this because I decided to look you in the eye and tell you that your excuses suck.

Whether or not you’re fat doesn’t determine your worth as a human being, however, being fat, 9/10 times is something you can control and something you can work with. Finding a way to lose weight safely and effectively is something that takes years and years of trial and error and the negative psychological effects of what you see online are no one’s problem except your own — take everything with a grain of salt and do your own research instead of pretending that the world is out to get you. If you feel that people’s posts promoting something that works for them just fine is somehow a personal attack on you, I think it’s time to evaluate your relationship with the online media sphere at large, methinks.

I’m not a personal trainer, I’m not a nutritionist, I’m not going to tell you what to do, I’m not gonna look up and evaluate every single diet plan and workout regimen known to man — I already did it for myself, I spent the sweat and tears on it for the last five years of my life, and I know what works for me. I cannot tell you what is going to work for you and I cannot tell you that losing weight is something you must do but I can tell you that there is something that will work for you, if you want to lose weight. You just aren’t looking hard enough.

While at the end of the day, I don’t care what people do because it’s not my place to control their actions or their words, but I do care when people fucking lie. When they regurgitate the same “diets don’t work!” over every insinuation that maybe there needs to be some kind of change in their food intake, when they so boldly say that they can’t lose weight, that they’ve tried everything, that diet culture is “toxic” because they can’t take the time to impersonally and carefully evaluate whatever is being peddled to them, or when I want a friend or a significant other to support me on a lifestyle that I’m pursuing and they throw me the: “Oh, but you’re so beautiful regardless!” because that shit doesn’t fuck help me, that shit doesn’t make me feel any better and is a worthless statement when I want to approach something objectively and it’s clear that there are set goals with visible obstacles to overcome.

Yes, yes you can lose weight and the people telling you that you can do not wish any kind of harm upon you.

Yeah, we‘re all gonna die in the end anyway, but I don’t want to get there absolutely winded after every staircase I’ve climbed.

[mizunetzu]

YOURE DOPE ASS SHIT HOMIE <3333 can i get uuHHHhh mutha fuckin tanaka x femboy reader ?

HAHAHA SAY LESS I NEVER EXPECTED TO GET A TANAKA REQUEST IM-

——————

Tanaka x reader - one date wonder

⚠️ warnings - reader is referred to as a girl unintentionally, by Nishinoya in the beginning. Don’t worry, I assure you this is a Male Fic. Ta-ho.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

If there was one thing Tanaka hated, it was pretty boys.

They were so over hyped. Just because they have a handsome face, all of a sudden they’re the talk of the town. Especially if they had a skirt on and whatnot. What happened to personality?

“Oi oi Ryu!”

Tanaka didn’t notice Nishinoya shoving a phone towards his face. He continued skimming through the Miyagi volleyball weekly magazine. “If I see one more article about that prick Oikawa I’m gonna-“

“Ryu!” Nishinoya practically slapped Tanaka’s head with his phone. Tanaka yelped.

“Hell was that for?!”

Nishinoya wordlessly held up his phone uncomfortably close to Tanaka’s face.

A girl with (h/l), boyish hair and a pretty pink skirt stood tall on Nishinoya’s small phone screen. The girl had cute (h/c) hair, framing her face as she posed with her hand flexed into a peace sign.

She was totally his type.

“Apparently she goes to our school.” Noya giddily scrolled through the girls feed, careful not to accidentally like anything as to not be caught stalking her page. Tanaka exhaled.

“Dude...if I ever see her I think I’m boutta simp.”

“Riiiight?” Nishinoya held down his phone screen to let Tanaka in on the girls social media page.

———

Walking into class the next day, he ran into a horde of girls surrounding someone in the middle of the room. There seemed to be someone in the center, awkwardly chuckling and trying to say something, but it was drowned out but the vociferous squeals or questions thrown at them. Tanaka couldn’t quite make out the person’s face.

Stalking closer, trying to subtly peek from over the heads of the girls, the person’s eyes slowly panned over to him. They locked eyes. Something seemed oddly familiar about that person. He couldn’t quite place it, though.

The person’s eyes lit up and they wadded their way out of the horde and made their way to him. Upon closer inspection, the person was handsome, and wearing the boy’s gakuran. It made sense, he was being crowded around a bunch of girls gawking at his pretty face. He immediately puffed out his chest and scowled.

“Oi oi! Got a problem, pretty boy?”

“P-pre...” The person, who he now knew was a boy, flushed and shook his head. “A-anyways! Tanaka-kun, can...”

“C-Can you meet me in the school courtyard after class!”

The boy bowed suddenly, making Tanaka falter and step back. He awkwardly coughed. “Uh-sorry man, do I know you?”

Of course he knew him. He was that one popular second year in class 2-4 that every girl was throwing their panties at. He found it weird that he wanted to talk to him out of everyone.

“My name is (L/n) (Y/n)! I’m-im in class 4 but I...don’t think we‘ve ever spoken before...”

“Then why do you wanna meet up later? Do you needa tell me sumthin’? Can’t you just tell me now?”

“No!” (Y/n) puffed out his cheeks. For such a high strung popular pretty boy, he was acting pretty fumbly and flustered. “I can’t say it here-!”

“Uh...ok...see you there...?”

“Thank you!” (Y/n) smiled, walking through the eavesdropping girls and out the door.

Tanaka wondered why he looked so familiar. Oh well, it’s probably nothing.

———

Tanaka picked at his unbuttoned school uniform, standing under a cherry tree in the school courtyard. It took him every single ounce of his body not to just up and leave.

His ears perked up at the sound of rapid footsteps approaching him. There stood this boy from before, doubled over and heaving in front of him. Tanaka shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So-what’ja need, dude?” Tanaka tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. (Y/n’s) head snapped up, and he stiffly straightened upright.

“This is for you-!” He averted his gaze as he outstretched a pristine white envelope to Tanaka with both hands, a cute little heart sticker sealing the opening flap shut. Tanaka blinked once. Twice.

Did a girl ask him to give this to him? Wait, why would this pretty boy who probably thought he was some ruffian scum randomly be giving him this love letter? Was he trying to make fun of him? Did he think that he didn’t get love confessions because he wasn’t a popular pretty boy like him?

“Oi, you tryna mock me or something? Tryna make fun of me pretending a girl wanted you to give this to me?” Tanaka puffed out his chest, tilting his chin up. (Y/n) paled.

“No! No! This-“ (Y/n’s) grip on the letter tightened, crumpling the smooth paper ever so slightly at the corners. “This i-is a real letter...f-from me to you, Tanaka-kun...!”

Tanaka blinked again. Huh? Huh?!

“I like you, Tanaka-kun! I know it’s weird because you don’t know me and I’m really popular and ‘wow why is this popular dude talking to me haha and why is he so awkward’ but I really wanted to tell you and-“

(Y/n’s) phone buzzed. He stopped in his tracks, and fished his phone out of his black school pants. Tanaka, even though he knew he shouldn’t, peeked over his head a bit, trying to see what was on his phone.

Powering it on, a picture of a girl with boyish hair and pink overall-skirt popped up on screen, holding up a peace sign near her eyes. That girl looked familiar.

Oh! That was the girl that him and Noya were fawning over the other day! Now that he thought about it, the girl and (Y/n) looked very similar. Like, very, very, similar. Same hair, same eyes, same everything...

That’s when something clicked in Tanaka’s head.

(Y/n) clicked out of his Home Screen and shot a quick text to someone on his phone. He pocketed it once more.

“A-anyways, sorry Ta-“

“Are you a crossdresser?!”

“Cr...” (Y/n) sputtered. Tanaka pointed bluntly at (Y/n), eyes widened in disbelief.

“No! No I’m not! I...why can’t I wear feminine clothes without being called a crossdresser...”

(Y/n’s) shoulders slumped over. Stagnant air surrounded them as (Y/n’s) nimble fingers dropped the letter carelessly, letting it flutter towards the ground gracefully.

‘Fuck. Fuuuuck. Me and my big mouth...’

Tanaka awkwardly cleared his throat. “I-I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sorry, man! There’s no harm in um...wearing that-! Shit, uh. How can I make it up to you?”

(Y/n) smirked. He slowly raised his head up. He held out his pointer finger.

“You can make it up to me by going out on a date with me.”

Tanaka deadpanned. Treacherous pretty boy snake. “Wh-“

(Y/n) clasped his hands together. “Please! Just one! And we don’t even have to hold hands or anything! After that it’s done! It’s just-“

“F-fine.”

(Y/n) looked up. “Really...?”

“I mean, it wasn’t cool of me to call you a crossdresser, so if it’s just one...”

“All right!”

———

The date went by like a dream. Even if Tanaka didn’t harbor much feelings for (Y/n), he still enjoyed eating free food.

Though, he couldn’t help himself from occasionally staring at (Y/n). Not because he had something on his face of anything,

But because he was wearing a a high-waisted black plaid skirt with a belt secured snuggly on his waist, with a slightly baggy baby pink sweater that looked comfortable enough to sleep in. And to top it all off, a small kitty hair clip pinning some loose strands of hair behind his ear.

He looked exactly like he did on his social media. Tanaka gulped.

Even if he was a guy, he couldn’t help but notice how his skin seemed to glow off the fabric of his sweater, or how his skirt complimented his body perfectly.

“U-uh, (L/n)-san?” Tanaka was trying to be as respectable as he could. (Y/n) stopped eating mid bite and waiting for him to go on.

“Why do you uh, pose as a girl on social media if you don’t want people thinking your a girl..? No offense, I mean? Just wonderin’, y’know.” Tanaka took a huge bite out of his food to occupy his running mouth.

“Oh.” (Y/n) pulled up his phone and booted up his profile on social media. “It says in my bio that I’m a dude. So, it’s kind of the persons fault if they mistook me as a girl, but I don’t mind if they do...! I think I look pretty...”

Tanaka flushed. Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t deny it. He was kinda cute when he tried hiding his blushing face behind his chopsticks. But he wouldn’t say it out loud. It’s like he liked him or anything, no. Definitely not!

———

Next day at school, Tanaka felt a strange sort of emptiness in his chest. It felt hollow, like he was coming off a high and dealing with the consequences. And he had no fucking clue why.

“Dude...I feel so depressed...” Tanaka slumped over a box in the club room, sighing dramatically. Nishinoya hummed while scrolling through (Y/n’s) profile, once again.

There was a sour taste in his mouth. Tanaka glared holes into Noya’s side, until Noya finally looked up from his phone.

“Dude, why’re you glaring at me-“

“Help me with my baggage I’m feelin’ depressed and I don’t know why!” Nishinoya sighed, before smiling widely and standing up with his chest out.

“Ok. Doctor Nishinoya here. What seems to be the problem, good sir.”

Tanaka snickered. It was Nishinoya’s turn to glare at him.

“So, I went on a date with this gu-, um, girl, and I only went because I promised, so now I don’t know why I’m feeling so sad.”

“Liaaar. Siiiiimp.”

“Shut up!” Tanaka barked at Nishinoya. “I’m tellin’ the truth here!”

“Well,” Tanaka gave Nishinoya a look to go on. Noya clicked a pen he found on the club room floor and adjusted his non-existent glasses. “Sounds like you caught feelings, dude.”

Tanaka sputtered. “I-I couldn’t have!”

“You totally could.”

“Could not!”

“You could”

“Not!”

“Why not, then?” Nishinoya crossed his arms.

“Because the person I went on a date with is a dude!”

Nishinoya choked on air. Tanaka covered his mouth. Noya sighed.

“Well, maybe you’re just a lil’ gay then.”

“I’M NOT!”

——

Ok, maybe he was. Just a little bit. A teeny weeny bit.

Tanaka found himself standing outside the 2-4 classroom, and he frankly didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he was so nervous too. He was really, really scared to go inside. But he wouldn’t show it.

Which is why he was leaning on the wall across from the door, with a scowl on his face and a suffocating, intimidating aura around him. Ennoshita walked out of the 2-4 classroom, before immediately being drowned in Tanaka’s scary presence.

“Jesus Christ Tanaka-kun, you scared the hell out of me!” Ennoshita rubbed his eyes. “Anyways, did you need something? Were you waiting for me or something?”

Tanaka’s face relaxed. “Uh! Actually I-I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here, so I’m just gonna-“

“Tanaka-kun?”

Shit.

Tanaka slowly turned around. Standing in the classroom door frame was (Y/n), holding a bento and looking directly at Tanaka.

“Oh-! Sorry, sorry, please give me a second-ah-!” (Y/n) excused himself from his growing horde of female classmates, worming his way out of the classroom.

“What are you doing here?”

Tanaka’s mouth ran dry. Nishinoya’s voice rang in his ear.

‘Well, maybe you’re just a lil’ gay then.’

Fuck! Maybe he was. But fuck.

“U-uh...” A million thought went through Tanaka’s head, and went blank at the same time. It was the same feeling he gets whenever he looked at Kiyoko. The same tingly, warm, simp-y feeling.

Ennoshita looked between the two, before gasping in realization. “Oh. Oh! So-uh, I’m gonna...head to practice-Daichi said he needed me for something bye-!”

Ennoshita whispered a “Tell him.” in Tanaka’s ear as he walked by, then promptly disappeared behind a wall. Tanaka looked back at (Y/n).

“Um...h-hi...”

‘Fuck! Stop stuttering!’

Tanaka leaned against the wall, trying to seem as cool and suave as he could. (Y/n) put his hands in his pockets.

“Did’ya need something from me?”

‘Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.’

Shut up, Ennoshita! Tell him what, exactly? He didn’t know if he was even sure about his feelings or not.

“So...about our um...date a few days ago..” Tanaka also shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Ah! You’re here to tell me it was weird going out with a guy! Or that it was weird going out with a guy in a skirt! I’m-“

“No! No! Not at all!” Tanaka blurted out. (Y/n) let his mouth fall shut.

“I just...” Tanaka pursed his lips. “...Maybe we could, I dunno, go out on...another date.”

“Really?!”

Tanaka flushed and furrowed his brows. “Y-Yeah! You got a problem with that-!”

“Yeah! I mean no! I mean I’d love to go!” (Y/n) grasped onto Tanaka’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “Are you free this Friday at around 8?”

“‘Course I am!”

“It’s a date, then, Tanaka-kun.”

——————

Epilogue:

“No way your going out with her.”

“Him.” Tanaka corrected, pointing at Nishinoya’s phone. An image of (Y/n) holding up a cat he found on the street in an oversized sweater was on screen. “It’s a dude. And he’s my boyfriend.”

Nishinoya stopped walking. Tanaka raised his eyebrows.

“You’re such a liar, dude-“

“Tanaka-kun!”

A voice rang out, with growing footsteps approaching behind them. Both Tanaka and Nishinoya turned around, though with the dark moonlight it was hard to see who it was.

Someone wearing a skirt, tucked in shirt, and Karasuno jacket stopped behind the two. Tanaka smirked triumphantly what Nishinoya gawked, looking between his phone and the person.

(Y/n) smiled. “Are we still on for our date today? I know it’s kinda late...”

“Course we are, babe.” Tanaka smugly wrapped his arm around (Y/n), making sure Nishinoya saw. Noya’s mouth fell open.

“HOLY-WHAT THE FUCK! RYU, HOW’D YOU-“

“To be honest I don’t really know either.”

——————

[angelaiswriting]

The Contest (4 of 7) | some R6S guys x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Tachanka x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: Dominic Brunsmeier can’t keep his goddamn mouth shut when it comes to eating pussy, and that’s how Y/N finds herself being drafted to be the judge of this pussy-eating contest. Alex is on another level. (Straight out of a dream @kind-wolf​ had)

✏️ A/N: enjoy 😈

✏️ Warnings: 18+ only (oral f/r, fingering)

✏️ Word-count: 3,762

✏️ The links to the other parts are in the masterlist linked in my bio.

<< part three: timur <<  |  PART FOUR: ALEXSANDR  |  >> part five: dominic >>

Y/N had feared having to avoid Dominic after leaving Timur’s room because the fact that he had a rival in the head game field had been painted all over her face, even somehow visible in the way she walked. But there hadn’t been anyone outside her door when she reached it and as she hastily punched her code into the door pad, she had found herself heaving a sigh of relief.

The next day, though, avoiding Dominic had become a feat. He was growing restless, and probably the fact that some of his friends were eating her out was exciting him more than he had anticipated or that he could have thought. More than she could have ever thought, as well.

“C’mon,” he was saying, breathing down her neck from behind, his hands on her hips as he pressed himself against her rear. She was typing the last batch of data into the computer of the testing facility, and his constant distraction wasn’t helping her at all — not when she had been lost in her own thoughts for two days now. “We go down to the pool —” and his lips pressed kisses on the faint hickeys Timur had left behind — “and we have a good time. No one has to know.”

She cackled, typing the last numbers in before going over her work in search of mistakes in the transcription. “Are you so worried about this contest that you want to remind me what your cock feels like?” she asked eventually, turning around with a sly smile on her lips.

Her left hand, the one not holding the bluetooth keyboard, moved up to his throat for a moment, gave it a brief squeeze, before it trailed down his chest and stopped on his crotch.

He scoffed, bucking his hips forward and into her hand. “I’m not scared of shit. I know how good my game is. I don’t need to fear a stupid contest, I know I can make you scream with or without my cock, Hase.”

Her smirk made his smile falter for a second. “What, then? Would you like to witness? See your homies eat this —” and she moved one of his hands so that it was cupping her through her shorts — “pussy? Did you play with yourself when I was with Elias and Timur?”

She knew he loved the dirty talk. He got off of it, just as she did, there was no denying that. She’d climb mirrors if he talked dirty to her when she couldn’t have him — and it had happened on a mission, once.

“I did, yeah.” He grabbed her keyboard, put it down on the shelf to her side, and moved in between her legs, pulling her hips close to his. “But I know you have the day off, and me dicking you down won’t interfere with anything. I could take you right here, even with that security camera in the corner blinking at us. Let the security guys know how good you let me fuck you.”

She let his face inch closer to hers as her hands came up to grip his biceps, and when their lips brushed together with his clear intention of kissing her — and certainly slip his tongue into her mouth, something he hadn’t done in a few days now — she pushed him away.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” she warned him. “Don’t break the rules of the contest you fought so ardently for. This will be over in less than a week and when the winner has been announced and has had another go with me —”

“That’s not gonna happen, baby.”

“It is,” she nodded, cupping his cheeks before finally pressing a chaste kiss to his lips in the attempt of satiating him a little. “I said that would happen if I felt like it, and you agreed to it. What are you worrying about? You might even win, Dom. But after that happens, I’ll let you fuck me wherever you want. Even against this wall, for the security guys behind that camera. Friends with benefits, remember?”

He grunted against her lips and he rolled his eyes. But then, after having mulled her words over in his head, he heaved a sigh. “Fine, one more week. I can get myself off just fine until then.”

A smirk stretched on her lips and she had to do her best to hide her chuckle. “That’s my good boy.”

*

She was in the gym that afternoon. She hadn’t expected to have a day off from the contest, and not even to find herself bored to the bone and almost pissed off at the idea that she didn’t have some oral sex to look foward to that day. It was cute that they cared about her, but the night before with Timur and the knowledge that Dominic had the worst hots for her had left her in a mood that required more than the machines in the gym facility could help her with.

And it felt atrocious. To not be able to stop thinking about some men that had always been just friends to her, but that had had — and would soon have — their mouths eating her out. And to have to endure this without saying anything, not after how adamantly she had stressed her own fucking rules…

The cold shower she took in the gym helped her more than training had, though, and she found herself standing there, immobile, under the steady stream of water raining down her face and into her eyes every now and then. The anxiousness and that weird and heavy sensation that had kept her whole body in a grip slowly left her muscles, until all that she was left with was the post-workout exhaustion.  Little by little, the feeling came back to her limbs and she became aware of the pulsing sensation in her knuckles and the heaviness in her legs.

It was uncomfortable — but at the same time, not even in a weird way, just what she had been looking for.

She turned off the water, her skin covered in almost painful goosebumps, and grabbed the towel from the hanger. The sigh that left her lips was almost an involuntary moan when she pressed her face against the soft fabric of the towel and breathed its clean smell in.

Her back to the doorless frame that led back to the locker room, she took her time drying herself off and as she did so, she missed Alexsandr walking in and standing in the way, staring right at her. Hadn’t her mind been somewhere else, she would have picked up on the soft, almost squeaky sound his sneakers made on the tiled floor — or so she would try to convince herself a few hours later, when she’d be back in her room with a vibrator between her legs.

But then she turned around, her hands busy toweling her breasts off, and she saw the man standing there, towering in the door frame with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I am horny,” he stated, matter-of-factly. His hands were intermittently closing into fists and even from the other side of the shower room, she could see how heavily his chest heaved with every breath he took.

There was no stopping that moan that left her lips upon hearing his blunt honesty. Absent-mindedly, one of her hands came back up and her fingers spread wide to cup a boob, the perked nipple peeking through from between index and middle finger.

“I have been trying to get myself off, but I can’t stop thinking about eating you out,” he continued, his eyes never leaving hers, his feet rooted to the spot he had stopped in. His left hand moved to grab himself from above his sweatpants, almost as though to highlight his point.

Her legs trembled and while he smirked slightly at the sight, she managed to get a grip on herself.

“I know I haven’t warned you one day in advance as you wanted.” His eyes were fixed on her naked form — surely on her vulva, but definitely on her breast, as well. “But I really —” and he took one step forward — “really want to have the taste of you in my mouth.”

The air burned her lungs, both on the way in and on the way out. She stared at him, his words echoing in her mind, and she pictured this man — this mentor of sorts — fisting himself and not managing to come, just to then go and walk around the base to look for her with a badly concealed boner raging in his pants.

Her towel dropped to the floor and Y/N found herself taking a couple of wobbly steps forward, paying attention to how she moved so as not to slip and fall. She had already given herself a bump on the head when she slipped in the shower once, and she wasn’t in the mood to re-live such an accident when she could, in fact, be getting head.

“I don’t know what you’re waiting for, then, Alex,” she managed to squeak out.

She was doing her best not to pay it too much attention, but she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious somehow. This man much older than her was standing there fully dressed, and his gaze made her skin burn as it scanned over her body as if to commit every detail to memory. Elias and Timur had seen her naked as well, but she had been prepared for that — she had known they would come and she had made sure to be found as perfect as she could. But Alexsandr took her by surprise and suddenly, part of her brain was second guessing herself.

He moved closer. His movements were slow and measured, and for a moment he did feel like some sort of predator. “You are so beautiful,” he said. There was surprise in his voice and that had blood rushing to her cheeks.

“Did you use to think I wasn’t?”

His hands settled on her hips, his fingertips pressing into her flesh and squeezing twice, almost experimentally. Then, they moved upward, caressed her sides until his thumbs stopped underneath the swell of her breasts.

Although his breath was scorching hot on her skin, there were goosebumps tugging at it.

“I never tried to picture you naked before the contest,” he replied after what felt like an eternity of her heart drumming wildly against her ribcage.

His lips brushed against her right temple and he inhaled her smell, his hands moving up her back and then back down her spine again.

“But I see now I won’t be able to stop thinking about you.”

He pulled back a little, just enough to be able to stare into her eyes again, before his gaze swiped lower, down her breasts. His hands came up, covered her boobs and kneaded their flesh. Her nipples ended up between his thumbs and forefingers, and she fought to breathe when he rolled them between rough fingers.

She only realized he was slowly making her take steps backward when her back touched the freezing cold tiled wall of the room.

“So young and beautiful,” he murmured against her cheek before dropping to his knees with a heavy thud. She didn’t know whether he felt pain at that, but it was also true that she didn’t spend too long thinking about it, not when he grabbed one of her legs and raised it to rest it over his shoulder, never once breaking eye contact.

His forehead leaned forward, then, and as he pressed it against her lower belly, he inhaled again.

“I can faintly smell your arousal,” was what he said, voice low and raspy as he fixed himself inside his sweatpants. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

He hummed with closed lips against her skin, and she swore she could feel the vibrations of the sound he made throughout her whole body.

The temptation of biting back with something along the lines of Then why don’t you? tickled the tip of her tongue, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. She didn’t know what it was about him in this moment, but she knew she’d do anything he told her to — and that she’d let him do anything he wanted if she didn’t manage to remain lucid enough to remember only mouth and fingers were allowed in the game.

His head turned to the side, toward the leg draped over his shoulder, and he somewhat gently bit down before swiping his tongue over his mark. That jolt of pain came unexpectedly and in her attempt to keep her balance, her arms shot out: she grabbed his free shoulder with one hand and his hair with the other. But she didn’t have time to complain, for his nose was already bumping into her clit.

He groaned — at her smell, at how wet she was, at the situation as a whole, she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter.

His thumbs parted her inner labia and his tongue came out to trace her entrance. When he groaned again this time, she felt herself clench around nothing as the back of her head thudded against the wall and her gaze fixed itself on a crack in one of the tiles at the other side of the shower room.

He licked her again, and this time his tongue ended up a bit deeper than the first time. Then he repeated the action. Again. And. Again. And each time the movement of his tongue seemed to become more focused, in a way, making her pulse all over as her breath was cut short.

“I love your taste,” he groaned.

One of his thumbs came up to circle her clit, and the middle finger of his other hand slipped into her achingly slowly. When she opened her eyes — to order him what, she had no clue —, she found him already staring up at her, his chin wet and his lips stretched into a proud smirk.

She couldn’t look away, hypnotized as she was by this mountain of a man on his knees for her. There was something in the sight itself that made her clench around his finger, and that was the moment he waited for to add another. She didn’t find it in herself to remind him to eat her out, because she knew, somehow, deep down, that it would be his mouth that would make her orgasm and not his fingers. He knew how to play a game and although he didn’t necessarily play to win, he didn’t exactly play to participate either.

When he started fucking her with a third finger as well, his head moved back between her legs and his lips latched onto her clit. Her heart was in her throat, in the pit of her stomach, her ears. Christ, even in her toes! Her breathing trembled with each exhale and even though his mouth and fingers on and inside her turned her silly, with whimpers and moans falling from her lips she had no control over, she kept her eyes on his and he seemed to bask in it.

The coil in her stomach was tightening and the more he flicked or sucked her clit, or the more his fingers teased her from the inside, the tighter it seemed to become, until it was hard to keep standing on her left leg. It was trembling, and if it wasn’t for Alex’s hand on her stomach and his shoulders keeping her pressed against the wall, she knew she’d fall.

“Fuck, I’m…”

But her body went stiff, her lungs stopped working, and her eyelids closed shut under the blinding orgasm that washed over her all of a sudden, in a way. Her brain switched off and when it rebooted, it seemed to be working on a slower program than usual.

When she did come back to her senses, though, she had to push Alexsandr’s head away from her core and when she looked down, chest heaving painfully as she fought to breathe somewhat regularly, his chin was glistening with her juices.

He withdrew his fingers, then, and put her trembling leg back down so that he could stand up.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed, and she did so without a second thought. Then, when his fingers were resting heavily on her tongue, she closed it again and sucked them clean. She moaned at her own taste, and although her cheeks were burning and she was dying to look away, to avert her gaze from his, she found herself unable to do so. “You taste divinely,” he hummed. Then, when he pressed closer to her and his lips brushed against her earlobe, he almost made her knees give out. “I would’ve never thought you’d squirt, though.”

She gasped, and he took the chance to take his fingers out of her mouth.

“Now I can go and have my orgasm,” he declared, happy both with the result he had had and with the fact that he had finally done his part in the contest.

But when she exclaimed a pointed No!, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“No, please, one more time.”

He stopped in his tracks, taken aback by her words for a moment before they registered and he picked her up in his arms and her lips crashed against his. The kiss was searing, all tongues and teeth as he blindly walked back into the locker room.

“I want to sit on your face this time,” she whispered against his lips, eyes boring into his as she ground herself against his crotch. “Can I?”

He smirked and had she known her legs would turn to jelly and she’d have trouble walking after, she would’ve asked him to take her back to either of their rooms. “You are the judge,” he pointed out, kneading the flesh of her buttcheeks in his hands as he still had her in his arms. “This contest is for you as well.”

She wasn’t down on her feet for too long: Alexsandr pushed two benches together and although she hadn’t thought it possible, together they were large enough for him to fit. He laid down on his back, his feet firmly planted on the floor, and he stretched one hand out for her to grab so that he could guide her.

The position was uncomfortable, with no padding between the cold and hard surface of the benches and her knees when she straddled the upper part of his chest, but she knew Alex knew how to make up for it. He moved his arms out of the way so that she could lay her shins flat on the surface, and then grabbed a hold of her thighs in his strong hands to guide her down toward his face.

“Sit, zayka,” and she could clearly hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke.

She lowered herself closer, her hands planted on his chest and her fingertips digging into his pectorals, when his breath hitting her still sensitive core made her huff out and squirm.

Nothing would have prepared her for the whine that scratched her throat on the way up when he suckled on her clit and his nose brushed right between her folds. Her arms failed her when he started eating her out again, and she found herself leaning forward on him.

He was still hard in his pants, and the sight of him alone would have been enough to make her moan out loud, unconcerned that someone could walk by the locker room and overhear her literally losing her mind with a man’s face buried tongue-deep inside her pussy.

“Alex.”

He hummed against her, his hands pulling her down flush against his face — and if there was someone other than Dominic that she was sure could breathe out of their ears as the man had joked about, then that was Tachanka.

She caught him groaning something in Russian, something she would have most likely understood hadn’t she been lost in the pleasure that was gripping every fiber of her being. His tongue dived into her and when he spanked one of her buttcheeks, one of her hands slammed down on his thigh, just this shy of slipping underneath the waistband of his sweatpants and wrapping around his erection. She had to bite down on the other to keep herself from being too loud.

It took her a while for her brain to connect with her body and pick up on the slow grinding of her hips on his face. She tried stopping the automatic movement, but another one of his slaps — on her other buttcheek this time — told her she should continue.

“I need…” She was stuttering, head completely empty but for thoughts of him — and the sight of him in front of her. If he won — and there were hella high chances that he would come out of that contest as its winner —, she knew where else she wanted to have him. “Fuck, I—” but her jaw went slack, both hands now gripping at the sides of the bench to keep herself up, and she couldn’t even finish forming her thought in her mind.

He slapped her ass again. Two of his fingers plunged inside her without notice and his lips wrapped around her clit. The air left her lungs, and what would have been a high-pitched moan turned out silent when she came. Hard.

When she came back to her senses, she was lying down against his chest, her head on his thigh and her nose barely brushing against his crotch. There was a darker stain on the fabric where he had come inside his sweatpants, and she moaned at the thought that he had most likely gone commando just to go and look for her.

“Did you—”

He chuckled, and she felt the vibrations throughout her body. “Da,” he replied, almost even proud of it.

She whimpered when he went back to kitten-licking her. Her glutes contracted and her thighs trembled, her pussy still sensitive and pulsing in the aftermath of her orgasm.

“You make the cutest sounds,” he continued after a while, one of his fingers tracing her opening before he licked her again, his tongue flattening against her. “I could spend the rest of my days right in this position.”

Feedback is always welcome if you want to drop old me a line 💛

Original pic used: https://www.pexels.com/photo/white-clouds-and-blue-sky-4870972/

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ASK)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892  @mblaqgi​ @becs-bunker

[zacknano17]

Day 9 : words 15,039 - 18,000

In which, Magnus fails to tip over a chair.

It does track, but he can't help but feel like the situation is a little weird.  People have their quirks, and that's fine (it isn't like Taako doesn't also have them, after all).  Maybe it's the accent?  He feels like he has heard it before, though he can't place where.

“So I was thinking about venues,” he says, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the desk.  “Neither Mags nor I have any real ties anywhere, and our guests will be from all over the place.  I was thinking, I don't know, maybe in Neverwinter?  That's fairly central, as far as things go.”

She smiles.  “I have done some of my best work in Neverwinter.  There are a number of amazing venues around the city,” she says.  “The location is so important, Taako.  Here, let me see.”  She takes a moment to glance around the room at her portraits.  “Ah.  A few of these were in Neverwinter.  Let me show you...”

They stood up and walked around the room, looking at transformed portraits at the venues within.  Taako soon discovered that architecture was far less interesting to him than floral arrangements, especially since he knows that the wedding he is planning isn't actually ever going to happen.  He attempts not to show his boredom, because if it was a real thing, this would be a lot more important.

When he doesn't show much interest in any of the venues displayed in the office, Rebekah very patiently leads him back into the front room. Salvatore greets them briefly before going back to work, sliding the paperwork he had been working on back into a drawer.  The dark haired elf apparently named Alfonso is nowhere to be seen.  Whatever had broken seems to be fixed.

While Taako is looking at a three dimensional view of a beautiful grand hallway, he notices that Salvatore has gotten up from behind the desk.  He moves toward the door.  Taako turns his attention back to the illusion, but mentally, he keeps track of Salvatore's movements. He isn't suspicious, but he is well trained at this fighting stuff by now.

That's why he notices that Salvatore's footsteps are getting closer rather than going back to the desk.  He turns his head, and --

“What the fuck, dude?”

The umbra staff is up and pointed at Salvatore a split second after Taako realizes that he's holding a bottle and a cloth.

“Ah. Salvatore.  You really botched that stealth roll, didn't you?” Rebekah sighs, stepping back from the painting they had been looking at.

“My apologies, madam.”

Taako is quite literally backed into a corner now, and he realizes that Salvatore has probably locked the door.  Neither of them looks terribly upset about having a staff pointed at them, even though Rebekah for one clearly knows that it's a magical focus.

“Um, are you, uh, are you guys tryin' to kidnap me or what?” he asks. “I'm a powerful wizard, you know.  It's not gonna end well for you.”

“We'd really like to ask you a few questions,” Rebekah says, still very polite.  She doesn't appear to be very threatening, but she has a wand in hand and the Oculus over her eye.

“Can't answer nothin' if you knock me out, homie!”

With that, Taako directs a cone of cold at them.  His strategy is to take out one or the other and get the hell out of here.  He should have guessed that things would go south the minute that he stepped into this place alone, but Rebekah's seemingly kind nature has thrown him off -- as it is probably intended to do.

When the frost explosion stills, Taako discovers that Salvatore has leapt in front of Rebekah.  He looks worse for wear, but he blinks the ice from his eyes and cracks his knuckles.

Taako runs, his hand already in his bag, fishing around for the hole thrower.

Before he can get to the door, the room vanishes.  He stumbles, falling forward and to his knees.  The umbra staff skids out of his hand, disappearing into the empty, inky blackness, and he realizes with a start that he is entirely alone.

It's like he's fallen into a pocket dimension with nothing inside of it. There is the flat surface he is sitting on, but he can't see any boundaries around him anywhere.  He puts his hands out, feeling for edges.  He finds one first to his right, what feels like a heavy fabric with no real give when he presses his hand against it.  He finds the other walls only moments later.  They are very close.  Too close.  This invisible room is closing in on him.  He can't even stand up anymore.

He hears voices, muffled and vague from behind one of the walls.  He presses himself to it desperately, clawing at the walls, pounding his fists against it, anything.  And then he hears a voice.

“You think he's in here?”  It's Magnus' voice.

“He had a meeting with the Wedding Wonders lady today, so I dunno where else he'd be.”  That one is Merle.

They're here?  His friends are here?

“Hey! Hey!  I'm here!  I'm in here!!  Help me!  She trapped me, I'm -- ”

“I don't see him,” Magnus says.

“Should we go in and take the Oculus ourselves?” Merle asks.

“Rebekah seems like kind of a pushover, huh?  Man, think of all the great things we'll be able to do once we get our hands on that Oculus,” Magnus replies.

“What?” says Taako, weakly.

They continue talking, but their voices grow fainter.  Taako redoubles his efforts, shouting and pounding on the walls, clawing at the fabric desperately.  “Wait, wait, wait!  No!  Don't leave! Don't leave me alone here!  Help me, please, please...”

How is this happening?  What has Rebekah done to him?  Had the door been a ruse?  Why were Merle and Magnus even here, and why on earth would Magnus ever talk about using the Oculus? Hadn't they just established how terrifying these Relics really were?

In fact...in fact, he wouldn't.  In fact, the Oculus is the Relic that uses the power of illusion magic.

Almost like...none of this is real.

Immediately as the thought crosses his mind, the inky blackness around him fades, and he finds himself on the floor of the front room of Wedding Wonders again, right where he had been only a few moments ago.  Rebekah and Salvatore are standing over him, and the icy terror that has manifested inside of his ribcage has only faded a little.

“W-what?” he manages, his voice weak.

Salvatore presses a cloth over his face, and he can't even find it in him to fight it off.  He coughs, hands grasping ineffectively at the orc's hands, and then, everything goes dark.

It isn't really very hard to avoid Taako.  Taako has made that easy by also avoiding Magnus.  Not that Magnus is avoiding Taako.

Okay, he is definitely avoiding Taako.

The level of animosity in his elven friend had been...a little surprising.  He isn't unfamiliar with Taako's penchant of picking fights when he's in a bad mood, but Magnus is usually better at circumventing these arguments.  It's just...personal this time.

He can't quite figure out what's bothering Taako about this entire situation, though.  He had seemed genuinely apologetic for dragging Magnus into this the way he had, even though it does make the most amount of sense.  It's just that he seemed to want Magnus to just immediately get over his hang ups and be totally fine with betraying Julia like this.

Okay, no, he isn't betraying Julia.  He isn't actually getting married. He's certain that even Julia wouldn't think it was betrayal if he does get married again someday, or probably anyone else either.  He's just not sure how he could ever convince himself of that.

And it isn't like there's anyone else he's really interested in!

Sure, he has looked.  He is alive, after all, and he keeps company with the most beautiful elf he has ever seen in his entire life.  There are plenty of pretty people in the Bureau.  He looks, sometimes.  He enjoys, sometimes.  And that's all he does, because there isn't anything else.  He doesn't want anything else.

None of that really matters, though.  He doesn't really want to talk to Taako after the things he had said, but he also knows they're here on a job.  There's supposed to be another meeting with Rebekah sometime today, he thinks, and so he'll just have to own up and get over himself.  He needs to play the part of the bashful groom for a little while.  It's for the greater good.

The problem is, he doesn't know when the meeting is.  Taako is talking to Merle -- Magnus had heard them in the hallway once or twice.  So Taako could have told Merle and Merle is supposed to tell Magnus. But he hasn't, so Magnus investigates himself.

Taako isn't in his room.  Merle is not in his either.

Have they gone without him?  The idiots.

But no, a trip down to the tavern area shows Merle enjoying an early dinner by himself at one of the tables.  Magnus sits down across from him.

“Where's Taako?” he asks.

“What, not even a hello?  How are you, Merle?  Been lonely these past couple of days when us two idiots ain't been talkin'?”

“Hi, Merle.  Where's Taako?”

“Oh, I see how it is.  Nobody cares about me, huh.”

“Listen, Merle, I love you.  You're great, even though you're a cleric who never heals anyone. But I'm pretty sure we were all supposed to go over to Wedding Wonders today, and I can't find Taako.”

“Oh, shit!”  The light bulb has finally gone on above Merle's head. “You're right.  We were, weren't we?  But that was a couple of hours ago.”

Magnus stares at Merle.  “Are you serious?”

“Yeah...”

“He didn't...I mean, he's not that dumb, right?  He didn't go by himself, right?”

Merle smooths his beard around his mouth for a moment, contemplative.

“Taako is pretty smart, but...he's also real stupid, ain't he?”

“Maybe we ought to try calling his Stone of Farspeech?  I dunno if he'll answer if it's me, so you should try.”

“I keep forgetting we have those dang things,” Merle admits.  He works the leather thong he wears his on out of his shirt and spends a few extra minutes adjusting the frequency.  “Taako?  Buddy, you there?” he says into the thing.  There is no response.

Magnus stands up, sending the chair he was sitting on skittering back a few inches.

“Get your gear, old man.  We've got an elf to find.”

Merle raises an eyebrow.  “You been practicing that one?”

Magnus rubs the back of his head.  “Yeah, actually.  How'd I do?”

“Eight out of ten.  Next time, try and topple the chair over,” Merle advises before he too stands up.

Ten minutes later, they're standing outside the inn.  It's a little strange to be out in full armor and armed to the teeth in the middle of the city, but not that strange.  It is probably more strange to head to the wedding planner's joint in full armor and armed to the teeth, though.

If they get there and Taako isn't there, there might be some trouble. The last thing they want to do is make Rebekah suspicious that they have ulterior motives.  Surely she knows how powerful the Oculus is by now, and surely she must be worried someone is going to find it. Paranoia is not an uncommon condition when possessed by these things.

But they can't not investigate either, because if Taako is there, and if Rebekah has seen through their scheme, then he could be in a whole lot of trouble.