hqkink | Prompt Post #1 [OPEN]

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Prompt Post #1 [OPEN]

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Asahi and Noya are dating but Asahi is asexual, so Noya asks Tanaka to help him out. Noya has (very loud, very enthusiastic) sex with Tanaka while Asahi watches. Poly or bros-with-benefits ok.

[[My first fill for this meme, I hope you enjoy it! true ot3 material. no dreamwidth, but i'm geromy@archiveofourown!]]

“Will you please go out with us?”

It felt like it had happened years ago, but it was only a month and some. Maybe that was just the feeling of starting to date someone you had already been so close with for so long. Especially when not much was different. He shared pecks with them before and after practice and his hands lingered against theirs a little longer after a congratulatory high five, but not much than that had changed.

They still went to practice together, to class together, they still hung out together Saturday nights. Even if now they spent it in a pile instead of a row on the couch cushions.

When it first happened, Tanaka had been a little caught off guard. He was happy, definitely wanted to be involved, but things between Noya and Asahi seemed fine the way they were. Although he wouldn’t admit it, Tanaka was a bit worried about ruining their so successful dynamic.

But it was about a week later that Noya explained.

“I mean, you know I’ve had feelings for you since the dawn of time, Ryuu,” he admitted, trying to play off the heat that billowed up in his cheeks with a roll of his eyes. “But I guess now the timing was sort of right for me to bring it up with Asahi.”

“You mean you didn’t tell him?” Tanaka asked, a slight twang of disgust hitting him as he pushed Noya a bit too far forward in his stretch.

“Ow! Of course I told him, but I didn’t present it to him as an endeavor so much as background noise.”

Tanaka let up on his pressure, going back to the gentle forward nudges as Noya reached for his toes.

“So what changed?”

“Asahi’s not into sex,” he finally muttered, making sure to keep his voice low while his eyes inspected every other player across the other side of the court to make sure none of them were paying any attention. “Like he doesn’t want it even remotely. Not even interested.”

Tanaka couldn’t help his snicker. “An ace ace. Poetic.”

Noya laughed a bit too, sitting back when he was finished with his stretches and rolling his shoulders back. “Yeah. That’s why the timing was right. I want to have sex, he wants to not worry about it, he already knew and was cool with me having the hots for you, so we went for it. And you said yes.”

“Can’t believe you want my dick that bad.”

Noya offered Tanaka a punch to the gut when he stood, “I want you that bad. Your dick’s just a nice incentive to finally buckle down and get it over with instead of putting it off.”

“I’ll pretend I believe that,” Tanaka snickered, giving his shoes an adjustment with a tap of his toes against the gym floor.

“Shut up and spike my tosses.”

“Is that innuendo?”

“Ryuu!”

That conversation had sort of been shoved to the back of Tanaka’s mind after weeks had passed and nothing had happened. It was another Saturday night, another night of Asahi being stuffed under Noya and Tanaka in their haphazard cuddle pile. They’d resigned to watching Ghibli movies after a late running practice, but despite Asahi’s attempts to keep things mellow, Nishinoya was restless.

“I guess I just can’t get into this stuff unless they’re old enough to be nostalgic,” Noya lamented, flopping an arm outward as he sprawled onto his back. Eventually though he rolled around back onto his stomach, and weaved his head right under Tanaka’s armpit to give Asahi a peck on the lips.

It was some sort of silent affirmation- Tanaka could tell even if they were trying to keep it to themselves. Noya lifted his head up with a grin, touching his nose to Tanaka’s with a gentle swish of his head.

“Hey, Ryuu. Make out with me.”

Tanaka just shot a pout over at first, gaze narrowing. “Just because you don’t care about this movie doesn’t mean I don’t,” he answered, feeling a bit comforted by Asahi’s head falling against him in silent encouragement.

“Shut up,” Noya snapped, sitting up suddenly and digging both his hands into Tanaka’s shirt. He hoisted the other up with the fist fulls of fabric, falling backward and pulling Tanaka on top of him. Asahi just barely managed to pull his legs free, his face paling a little as he tried to disturb the situation as little as possible.

Tanaka managed to avoid Noya’s advances just long enough to get himself comfortable, straddling his hips and letting Noya’s arms wrap around his neck to pull them both close to each other. His kiss was already sloppy and needy, a wave shooting through his body as he tried to grind his hips upward.

“How horny are you,” Tanaka muttered, holding himself up with his abdomen so his hands could work open Noya’s jeans.

“Extremely,” he whined, hands ripping into Tanaka’s shirt to pull it over his head and off his arms. “Top or bottom.”

“Switch,” Tanaka huffed, rolling his hips downward against Noya’s pelvis. “Gotta adapt in the bi world.”

“Good.”

That was a pretty simple response, which made it clear to Tanaka that wasn’t the end of the conversation. That became clear when Noya patted Tanaka’s chest to get him to sit up. Noya stood to move out of the room, his pants falling off his hips. He left them discarded on the floor as he disappeared into the hall.

Tanaka sat back while he waited, eventually glancing over his shoulder with a grin and flopping down entirely onto his back to lay across Asahi’s lap.

“I probably don’t say this enough, but I really admire you.”

Asahi offered a smile, one of his hands landing firm on the top of Tanaka’s head to stroke back along the fuzz of his hair.

“Likewise,” Asahi answered, letting Tanaka pick up his other hand and press his lips to his knuckles. Tanaka’s thumb pressed into Asahi’s palm, and they both relaxed in the silence between dialogues in the movie.

Eventually though Nishinoya came back, lube and condom in hand. He’d apparently lost his shirt and socks on the way, too, strutting forward in nothing but his boxers.

“What are you still dressed for? Prep yourself,” he snapped quickly, throwing the bottle of lube in Tanaka’s direction, only for it to smack his shoulder and roll onto the floor. “Nice catch.”

“Who’s the libero here,” Tanaka grumbled, rolling onto his side and reaching lazily for the bottle. He just barely managed to knock it closer with his fingertips, grabbing it successfully and sitting up to shove down his pants.

“Good receives are important for the whole team and you know it!”

“Not that I’m claiming to be an expert or anything, but does sex usually involve volleyball metaphors?”

Both of them looked up to look at Asahi, promptly bubbling up into laughter. Noya got comfortable against the armrest and spread his legs, one hand moving between his legs to work himself through his boxers while he watched Tanaka. Tanaka kept his boxers on too as he reached into them to finger himself, putting his focus on keeping his balance and his voice hushed.

Despite how much he ended up whimpering Noya was more interested in the visuals, watching Tanaka’s boxers slowly start to tent in the front. When Tanaka’s balance finally started to waver and he fell forward, he had already managed to soak a spot of pre into the fabric.

That was when Nishinoya finally pulled his boxers down his legs, static pulling up his leg hair as they went. He kicked them off and sat back properly on the couch, carefully reaching to move a hand around Tanaka’s wrist and pull it up.

“That’s enough Ryuu,” he muttered, slipping his thumbs into the elastic of Tanaka’s boxers to pull them down. His dick was hard enough to shoot upward once it was uncovered, and for a long moment Nishinoya got distracted by it, carefully leaning forward to press his lips into the side of it.

“Mnn… Noya,” Tanaka cooed, head lolling forward. His eyes fell closed as he sighed out a whimper, starting to scoot forward and throwing over a knee to straddle Nishinoya’s lap.

Their lips connected again and Tanaka could feel Noya’s tongue on his lips, opening his mouth for it and sliding his own forward to meet it. Noya was the one to huff out this time, one, two, three times before they both heard the familiar boop boop of the television’s volume being turned up.

“Oops,” Tanaka snickered, vowing to keep his voice down here on out.

By the time Noya was entering him though, that went right out the window. Noya didn’t even have to move before Tanaka’s throat felt like it was being torn apart from his attempts to keep quiet. By the time his hands were on Tanaka’s hips, pounding him downward, he was a mess. His throat was dry, his face was wet with drool. He was panting and whimpering and his body was shaking.

When the TV volume was turned up again he tried to slow himself down, feeling a bit of guilt settle in his gut. But when he looked over Asahi didn’t look angry, or disappointed, or even uncomfortable really. Mostly bewildered, looking over at his partners with morbid curiosity.

So Tanaka kept going, enjoying Noya’s breath hot on his back and the feeling of sweat on his neck, all the tenseness from practice melting and unwinding. The more he relaxed the louder he got, thrusting back at Nishinoya in the same rhythm.

He was a bit amused when the movie’s sound kept getting louder, the volume almost setting the speed for Noya’s thrusts, as if it was a competition. Eventually though the TV started to click back, signalling it had reached its max volume.

All three of them were laughing when Asahi stood up, pattering back into the kitchen. Noya took the opportunity to take over the couch, turning just enough to shove Tanaka onto his back and fold him in half with a push to the thighs.

The change in angle made Tanaka completely come undone, an arm shooting behind him to grip at the couch cushion. His back curled and his hips shot upward, and his entire body tensed in his orgasm. He cried out when it hit him, reaching a scream or two in the string. Every shot of his cum pulled another gasp from him, until he was practically wheezing for breath.

Just as they started to settle Asahi came charging back into the room, a frying pan in hand and one slipper missing.

“What was that?!” He shouted, panic evident on his face. His gaze darted around the room, scrambling to find the remote to turn off the TV so he could hear. “Where’s the intruder??”

Noya laughed as he sat back, pulling himself free from Tanaka and slumped backward against the couch.

“Only intruder here is my dick.”

Tanaka burst out laughing as a hand shot up to cover his face, while Asahi’s expression melted into one of absolute horror and humiliation.

“Is sex really so painful you need to scream?”

“I’m so not explaining this to you,” Noya groaned, tugging his condom off and knotting it closed. “Can you bring us some washcloths?”

“Why were you screaming?!”

Re: FILL: Screamer (AsaTaNoya, Poly/Asexuality) (no warnings)

(Anonymous) - 2015-04-07 03:55 (UTC) - Expand

Kageyama finds Hinata most attractive when he's got that serious, intimidating air or they're in the middle of an argument. Cue awkward boners and Kageyama purposefully riling Hinata up. Top!Hinata and Power Bottom!Hinata both welcome but no D/s please.

yamaguchi blows tsukishima and then gives him a cum filled kiss, probably causing a very mixed reaction on tsukki's end. (it's up to you, really.)

I KNOW EXACTLY WHO THIS IS FROM THAT PROMPT ALONE AND IM LAUGHING GODDDD
seconded tho

Daichi can't say no when Suga asks to top, but it's a little embarrassing how much he enjoys it UvU

In the dead of night, the bedroom was dark except for the soft glow of the moonlight and street lamps streaming in through the open window with the cool, late summer breeze. It sends a shiver through Daichi's skin, or maybe it was from the way Suga grazed his teeth over his kiss-bruised bottom lip.

Suga texted him about an hour ago that his parents had gone out for dinner and drinks, and Daichi knew an invitation for a few hours of doing anything they wanted when he saw one. In no time at all Daichi was at the doorstep, up the stairs into Suga's room, half naked and sandwiched between him and his mattress. There isn't anywhere else the captain would rather be than here, in this situation, running one of his hands through soft gray hair.

At the insistence of a little snuggling, Daichi tilts up his chin, giving Suga free reign to kiss along the sturdy line of his jaw, down the curve of his neck with all teeth and tongue along the way. Daichi let out a long, shaky breath at the feeling, watching Suga work under his lashes. He looked beautiful like this, concentrating only on Daichi to make him squirm from the overflow of pleasure. But it's not worth all the teasing, not right now when they didn't have all night. Cracking open one eye, he reaches for the nearby nightstand, pulling open the drawer where Suga keeps his supplies.

Or he would, but he's stopped by one of the setter's hands in his.

"It's my turn tonight, isn't it?" Suga says with a dripping sweet smile, even with his voice low and husky in ways Daichi is sure weren't fair. He's also 99% certain it's not Suga's turn (they had decided when they started this relationship to take turns because they found out both of them took equal enjoyment from being on both sides of it), but when he says it like that, who is Daichi to argue?

He raises up both his hands beside his head to surrender, watching Suga dig out the lube and condom from the drawer. "It is now."

"Then why don't you," Suga lets out a breath, putting a condom and the lube bottle atop the nightstand for easy access, "get these pants off?"

Daichi nods, not needing any other answer but to grab at his pants, undoing the buttons before doing the same for Suga, the two of them stealing kisses as they kicked off the last layers of clothing from their bodies. Daichi couldn't help but stare at the lines of Suga's body, thinking for the hundredth time how strong his smaller frame looked, vision moving up his chest and to his angelic face, watching the way Suga licks his lips and mirrors his desperate, loving gaze.

"Turn over."

And Daichi does, propping himself on his elbows and knees, waiting until Suga leans over to grab the lube to rub his ass against his partner's erection just to feel his whole body shiver. It earns Daichi a smack, square on his bum, and he can't hide the way his hair stands on end from the sting of it.

"Don't get cheeky on me now." Suga says with a laugh, the soft reverberations running through the room followed by the pop of the plastic cap and the squirt of lubricant over his fingers.

"How could I resist?" Daichi's not sure how he keeps his voice steady, but once Suga is running slick fingers over his hole, he's already biting the corner of his lip.

"You're lucky you're cute Daichi." he pushes one finger into the captain, making him shudder and back arching into it.

The way Suga works him open is meticulous, paying attention to every detail the same way he does when they're on the court. His finger curls and pushes into him before adding a second, and a third, working Daichi open until he's panting for breath and grinding his ass against those long, deft fingers.

Daichi breathes out, not hiding the level of desperation in his voice. "Suga, please..."

He hears Suga breathing, feels his fingers pull out, and Daichi has to take a deep breath to keep his brain functioning. He glances over his shoulder, watching Suga cover his cock with lube, positioning himself between Daichi's legs.

"Ready?"

"God yes."

With his hands on Daichi's hips, Suga presses himself in, slowly, and the captain has to hide his face in the pillow to keep himself from groaning out. It was so embarrassing the first time they did this, and when it hit Daichi that he loved the feeling of being spread apart and worked by his partner, but after a few times he's more used to the sensation and doesn't turn into a blushing, blubbering mess when every inch of Suga's cock is buried inside of him.

They both pause like this for a moment, bodies impossibly close trying to steady their positions, the setter planting a few hot kisses on the back of his partner's neck until Daichi arches his back, rolling his hips for friction. It's Suga's sign to go, and he doesn't waste a second. He rolls into him, long, measured thrusts, molding Daichi pliable until he can start to snap his hips, calculated moves giving way to heated action. Suga's hands run along Daichi's spine, tracing the lines the taut lines of muscle and ridges of bone, until he's grabbing so hard that his fingers are digging bruises into Daichi's hips.

Suga was normally intense when he topped, but whether it was because he was horny or the time pressure, he was fucking him hard enough to have Daichi grinding his hips into the mattress below. Whatever the reason was, it left the captain moaning and desperate for some friction on his own cock.

Another thrust brushes along the sensitive knot of nerves inside of him, and Daichi's voice breaks into a lower octave the way it usually does when he's breathless and close. It'll be embarrassing later, but for now, Daichi's mind can hardly think on it.

"Shit, Suga, Oh god..."

Suga's soft lips brush over his shoulder, to the bright red tips of his ears. "Come for me Daichi, I want to h-hear you."

The captain feels the way his partner's breath is uneven and shallow against his skin, the stutter of words that tell him Suga is just as close as he is. As much as he'd like to do something about it though, the setter is pounding into him, cock running over the sensitive spot inside of him again and again. It causes Daichi to flush and go flat against the sheets, moving his hips for more purchase. It's not long before his moans are filled with broken swears and his partner's name, clenching his muscles around Suga in a last attempt to get to him before Daichi comes like a shot, getting all over fabric and skin.

It's overwhelming every time when he comes like this, so much so that Daichi nearly misses the little hiccup from behind him and the way Suga hides his face between Daichi's shoulder blades when he spills out, shaking and breathless.

They lay like that for a moment, Suga's softening cock inside of Daichi with his face hidden in the captain's back, as Daichi sprawls out on his own mess while trying to catch his breath. It was a comfortable warmth until it wasn't, stickiness and sore parts taking over. Suga rolled off of him and Daichi could lay on his side.

"So." Suga started with a grin that made him look like the cat who ate the canary. "You really liked that, huh?"

"You're one to talk."

[omg this took forever... i hope u like it op]

Re: Push and Pull (daisuga, pushing/grinding into the mattress)

(Anonymous) - 2014-12-19 07:01 (UTC) - Expand

FILL: Pressing Down (Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, grinding against the bed)

(Anonymous) - 2015-12-29 17:42 (UTC) - Expand

OK IM GROSS but hinata getting fucked so hard by kageyama that he pukes all over and he loves it???? sorry im icky aND BONUS POINTS IF THERES CONSENSUAL CHOKING/ASPHYXIATION !!!!

(So this has more fingers in mouth as opposed to actual breath play, but- ... I wrote Hinata puking on Kageyama, so- hope OP sees this someday?? Lol, this is so gross, I hope someone enjoys~)

__________________________

Hinata had always been an enthusiastic cock sucker. The first time he had gone down on Kageyama, the orange haired boy had nearly given him a heart attack. He had gagged no less than seven times, saliva dripping down his chin as his fingers left bruises on Kageyama's hips.

"You've got a really long dick you know, how was I not supposed to choke?" Hinata frowned defensively after Kageyama had brought it up later.

"You use your hands too, idiot!"

"Whatever, you liked it, you shouldn't be the one complaining!" Both of their faces burned red at the subject, but neither willing to yield even in this.

"I just don't want to have to explain to your parents why you choked to death at my house, dumbass!"

----

Kageyama had never really been interested in sex. It had never been a motivator in his life, he would jerk off when he didn't have time for a cold shower, but he would never chase pleasure like a lot of people his age. That didn't change when he and Hinata started dating. He liked Hinata though, he liked giving him pleasure, and seeing his little boyfriend chasing orgasms on his cock. And Hinata would, he was wild in the bedroom. He would bring up things that Kageyama had never heard of, nor wanted to try, and yet he was curious. So when Hinata tells him not to pull him off his dick when he's choking- but to push him down harder, well-
Kageyama was interested.

----

"Please-" he rasped, lips slick, "-Tobio please-"

It seemed unreal, like someone else was conducting Kageyama's movements as he tightened his grip back in his boyfriend's hair and slowly pushed him back down on his cock. Hinata wanted this, he wanted this, Kageyama chanted to himself as he held the smaller boy tight on his cock, his nose pressed against the dark patch of hair at his groin.

After a long moment, Hinata finally gagged, air rushing out of his nose in a huff causing Kageyama to almost let go. But Hinata's fist was still clenched around the ball, and he didn't want them to stop so Kageyama held him there, feeling for the first time pressure against his hands as Hinata tried to pull back. The taller boy simply pushed back, groaning as Hinata gagged again, coughed up more saliva that dripped wet down his chin. Tears rolled down his cheeks and finally Kageyama let go.

Hinata already looked wrecked, eyes red, tears, spit, and probably other fluids shone on his face as he coughed, gasping for air.

"-p-please-"

He sounded pathetic. He looked pathetic too, on his knees, crying, drooling. Kageyama was ready to cum on his face, but he grit his teeth and pushed Hinata back on his cock. This time he held his boyfriend's head in both hands, thrusting without mercy into Hinata's throat only to pull back out again. Kageyama had to really focus not to blow his load just yet, so he zeroed in on Hinata's right hand, clenched around the ball that was their 'safe word'. Hinata gagged again, a bit more violently this time and Kageyama wondered what it would take to make him drop it. What was Hinata's limit? Was he really enjoying this or was he just too fucking stubborn to press the emergency stop button.

Kageyama pressed his foot against Hinata's crotch and Hinata choked as he came in his pants.

Wow.

Kageyama pulled him off and let him catch his breath on the floor for a bit.

"-what the- hell- I wasn't- done-" Hinata's glare might have been more effective if there weren't tears in the way.

"You look disgusting. Come here and ride me." Kageyama deadpanned.

Hinata got to his feet shakily. "Where did you put the lube?" his voice rasped.

"Top drawer, hurry up."

Hinata wiped his face and sniffed, feeling strange about crying without being sad. He also felt a little queasy, but that made sense after gagging on his boyfriend's cock for 20 minutes.

He shed the rest of his clothes and straddled Kageyama back on his bed. Reaching back with slick fingers, he didn't bother to go slow, knowing his limits and liking the burn and stretch anyways. He pushed two fingers inside himself, grinding down on Kageyama's lap. The dark haired boy gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and Hinata smiled. He could tell Tobio was still a little hesitant about hurting Hinata. But they were both enjoying themselves greatly and Hinata still had things he wanted to try.

"-hey why do you still have that thing?" Kageyama spoke up, noticing the ball still clutched in Hinata's fist.

"Oh- because I want you to choke me again!" Hinata chirped, two knuckles deep in his own ass. "But with your hands this time." Kageyama choked himself, on whatever reply he had prepared.

"I- I'm not sure if I can do that-" His face burned at Hinata's blunt manner. He tried to picture himself with his hands around Hinata's neck, squeezing and cutting off his air supply. It sounded kinda hot, but also dangerous. He felt like he should do more research on that before they-

"Kageyamaaaaaa-" Hinata groaned, interrupting his thoughts. "You don't have to actually choke meeeee (yet), just stick your fingers in my mouth or something!" He ground down, bumping his erection against the taller boy's. He was getting hard again, it never took long.

"C'mon- I'm ready-" his slick fingers pulled around Kageyama's dick.

"Are those your butthole fingers, Hinata I'm going to fucking-"

"-it's going up my ass anyways, who cares!" Hinata yelled as he situated himself.

"Hinata-haaaa-" Instead of waiting for his boyfriend to yell at him, Hinata chose to push down on his cock, sinking down until he was fully impaled.

"Oh god Kageyama, why is your dick so biiiiiiig-" He whined, straining his inner muscles a little to get him in deeper.

"-you're just- too small-" Kageyama grit his teeth with a huff.

"Nnnoooo- you're too long, it hurts-" Hinata gasped, winding his arms around Kageyama's neck. The setter wondered if it did hurt him and it was just one of those weird things Hinata liked. Speaking of, Kageyama slid two fingers in the other boy's mouth, cutting off his speech with a wet moan. His tongue was warm and velvety against the pads of his fingers and Kageyama reached, until Hinata choked, snapping his hips down and gagging around Kageyama's long fingers.

He bounced in Kageyama's lap, feeling full, full on both ends. He found himself wishing he had two Kageyama's, then he could get really stuffed at both ends. Kageyama added another finger in his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. Everything felt so good in a kind of painful way. His stomach lurched as he gagged again, saliva pooling in his mouth, Kageyama's fingers pressing at the back of his throat. He moaned, moving his hips faster.

Tobio's cock was hitting something strange inside him, the angle wasn't quite right and it hurt, oh god it hurt so good-

Hinata clutched the ball tightly, pushing Kageyama down on his back so he could ride him harder. He made sure his lanky boyfriend could still reach his mouth, sucking happily on three of his fingers. Kageyama pushed his hand again and Hinata gagged, tightening around him.
It did feel good. He then noticed Hinata slowing down, his hips stuttering to a halt. Kageyama dropped his hand to Hinata's waist, watching his little boyfriend's dazed, tear streaked face flash with alarm. Then his whole body convulsed as he snapped up and vomited into his own cupped hands.

Warm liquid spilled past his palms and splattered into Kageyama's stomach. The taller boy's eyes widened, his hands moving automatically to Hinata's hips in alarm as the boy gagged again with a choked sob. More stinging liquid and another full body convulsion as Hinata's stomach purged it's contents and that was it.

Kageyama all but exploded in Hinata's ass, a shocked orgasm ripping through him even as the vile, sticky liquid cooled on his stomach.

After that they looked at each other for a long moment. Hinata took a clenched, trembling hand and held it out over the edge of Kageyama's bed. When he opened it, palm up, the ball was still there. He closed his hand again and Kageyama looked back to Hinata slowly.

Hinata was crying, shaking, probably mortified too. He was also still hard as a rock. He didn't drop the ball though. The room smelled like vomit, Kageyama's bed was filthy, and neither of them knew what to say. Slowly, Kageyama layed back down on his back. Hinata had enjoyed that. Hinata was a freak, the taller boy mused, running a hand through the mess on his stomach and gripping Hinata's cock with it. Hinata choked, coughing with surprise and Kageyama took pleasure in the fact that this was the last thing his boyfriend expected him to do.

The setter watched in morbid fascination as Hinata started to move his hips again. His dirty hands were still hovering in the air like he didn't know what to do with them. Kageyama took his left hand by the wrist and held it to Hinata's mouth. The redhead whined, sliding his own fingers into his mouth until he convulsed again, more stomach bile splattering down straight onto Kageyama's chest. One twist of his hand as Hinata's weeping cock and he was done for, coming hard with a sob.

---

An hour of cleanup and a bath later, they were sitting on Kageyama's stripped bed. Hinata was uncharacteristically quiet, so the other boy pulled him into his arms.

"...you know I'm not mad, right." Contrary to his words, the taller boy sounded very angry, but Hinata knew that was just his voice.

"-yeah."

"So-. . . . talk to me."

Hinata didn't know where to begin. His legs still felt shaky, his ass was sore, his throat burned. He had just puked all over his boyfriend and gotten off on it.

"That- that was- IT WAS AMAZING, KAGEYAMA!!- next time we should-"

"NEXT TIME?!"

Re: FILL: kageyama/hinata emetophilia

(Anonymous) - 2014-12-21 23:49 (UTC) - Expand

just tsukishima pissing on yamaguchi during sex and yamaguchi loving it thats all

Tsukishima being force fed strawberry shortcake by yams or akiteru, or both??? either way is good. tsukki feeling super full and sickly while they're feeding him, i don't mind whether he actually pukes or not.

((Additional warnings/tags: D/S.
Let's try this again and hope it posts right. I'm still embarrassed months later, lol)).
------

It started because he noticed just how sensual it was to watch Kei eat a meal that he really enjoyed. It wasn’t often, but every now and again he would just sit and watch the blond eat. The way his mouth opened just so, closing around the food; the slope of his neck as he dipped forward to meet his chopsticks, glasses that were in dire need of a refitting sliding down his nose; the muscles working in his jaw as he chewed, lips pulling in just slightly as he went to swallow. Tadashi would sit, mesmerized by it, watching the bob of Kei’s adam’s apple as he swallowed and started the show again.

It makes him want to lean forward and push food into Kei’s mouth, piece by piece and feel Kei chew and swallow against his fingers. He just had a thing for Kei’s sharp mouth— and anything that passed those lips; he got off the hardest when it was Kei’s mouth around his dick or when the blond would eat him out. He wonders idly if that’s why watching Kei eat was so fascinatingly erotic. His chopsticks droop from his fingers, sliding forward into his rice as he watched Kei nibble, grain-by-grain, on his own.

He decides it’s the other way around, instead, that he gets off so hard from being blown or licked open because it’s so much like when Kei eats and talks. He wants to pick up a handful of his rice and shove it into that pretty little mouth of Kei’s, stuff his cheeks full and watch him struggle to chew it. He taps his chopsticks absently against his bowl until Kei takes notice. He makes up for the desire to stuff Kei’s mouth full of rice later by fucking the blond’s face so hard that Kei is still half-heartedly and hoarsely bitching at him about his sore jaw the next morning.

He watches Kei eat with a mind full of obscenities, of thoughts that make him squirm in his seat and itch to try them out. He satisfies himself with just watching, though. He doesn’t want to discomfit the blond, after all. An at ease Kei was much more pliable and enjoyable than a stressed out Kei.

When Kei’s appetite starts to decline under the stress of juggling college and a nearly-full time job, Tadashi is both reasonably and unreasonably upset with the situation. After two days in a row where the only thing that passed Kei’s lips was coffee and an energy bar, Tadashi decides it’s time to take extreme action. Actions that are… questionable at best.
He calls Akiteru. He thought it would take a bit more coaxing to get the elder Tsukishima in on his plan, because like Kei, Akiteru was easily spooked by the strange nature of the relationship the three of them shared. But all Tadashi has to say is that Kei hadn’t eaten in two days and that he was horribly stressed, and would Akiteru please come over to ‘help’, and the older man asked for a time without a second’s thought.
Akiteru arrives that same afternoon with a large platter of shortcake in hand, lips pursed in a slight frown.

Tadashi ushers him into his and Kei’s apartment before Akiteru thinks better of coming. He’s been bashful and wary lately, not that Tadashi could particularly blame him for shying under the implications of what they’d indulged themselves in a few months previously. But Tadashi has plans that involve that cake and Akiteru.

He greets the older Tsukishma brother with a firm kiss. He takes the cake platter from Akiteru, grinning slyly as the blond stammers out a greeting after they part. Akiteru slides off his shoes and Tadashi loosely tangles their fingers together before leading him to the kitchen. He explains slowly what he wants to do, trying hard not to relish the flush that starts spreading across Akiteru’s face at his words.

He’d thought that maybe, Akiteru would bolt, but instead he taps his fingers thoughtfully against the table as they wait for Kei to come home. He doesn’t explicitly agree to participate, but Tadashi sees his eyes dart to the cake to the door, then to Tadashi himself, cheeks and ears blooming red.

Kei comes home within the hour, his ‘Tadashi, I’m home’ quiet and subdued. Tadashi rises from the table and goes to greet his lover. He smoothes his hands over the drawn, pale face and down the white teeshirt Kei’s stripped down to. He’s still in his work slacks, black and well-creased and well-fitting. Tadashi thanks the heavens that the uniform for the school library is so sharp-looking and suited for Kei. He hooks his fingers into Kei’s belt loops. “Aki-nii is here,” he murmurs.

Kei’s face barely flashes in recognition. “Mmn.”

Tadashi’s worried about Kei’s lethargy; it never means anything good when the blond is so quiet and sluggish. He rethinks his plan for about ten seconds, but then Kei’s tongue darts out and licks over his lips and Tadashi thinks just how cute it would be to force Kei’s mouth open to the point that that pink tongue lolls out. He leans forward onto the tips of his toes and licks into Kei’s mouth, kissing the blond with very languid movements, coaxing Kei into kissing him back and leaning into his body. Kei’s hands fit against his hips and pull him forward, tongues sliding together between their lips.

Tadashi breaks away and licks his lips as Kei gives a very mournful sounding sigh. He steps backwards and pulls Kei towards the kitchen. “I told him how worried I was about how sluggish you are,” he says quietly.

“He brought cake.”

Kei tips his head to the side, “Ah?”

“Shortcake, from the place in town you like. A whole one, not just slices,” Tadashi supplies. “I asked him to go get it.”

Kei blinks at him, eyes calculating something behind lowered lashes.

Tadashi wonders what he’s thinking, or if he’s remembering the last time Akiteru was in their apartment. He tugs Kei into the kitchen, where Akiteru watches them both with a look that makes Tadashi think of lost puppies. He has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, both Tsukishima brothers ready to fall at his knees, and he’s going to use that to see Kei stuffed and writhing—the excitement is burning through his bones, much like it did the first time Kei let him tie him up or the first time he’d watched Kei bow and arch his body underneath Akiteru’s shaking hands.

“Won’t you please eat something, Tsukki?” Tadashi wheedles, gesturing to the cake. “He got you this, because we know it’s your favorite.”

Kei eyes Tadashi, then the cake, and then his brother warily. “Not hungry,” he mutters. Tadashi can tell, by the way his mouth twists and his eyes dart around the room that Kei’s figured out that Tadashi has something planned, and he’s starting to worry about it; he’s starting to worry that introducing Akiteru to the equation was the wrong move.

“Not cute,” Akiteru tells Kei, reaching out to grab his brother’s hand. Kei’s cheeks bloom red at the action; it makes Tadashi’s stomach flip and his mouth goes dry as he watches how Akiteru gently rubs his thumb into Kei’s palm.

Tadashi watches as shivers wrack down his boyfriend’s spine and he silently cheers Akiteru on.

“Maybe a little?” Kei relents just as Akiteru brings his hand up to start kissing at bony knuckles. “So let go, niichan.” He turns and starts pulling away.

“No, I think Tadashi and I want to make sure you really eat,” Akiteru muses. He tugs at Kei’s hand, hard, and the blond goes toppling into Akiteru’s lap.

Akiteru snakes his arms around Kei’s waist, hands flat against the thin material of Kei’s plain tee shirt as Kei squirms a bit in his lap, severely unbalanced.

Tadashi cuts a piece of cake for Kei, larger than he knows the blond would serve for himself on a good-appetite day. His stomach does another flip-flop at the thought of Kei not eating all of it.
He hands Kei the plate.

“Fork, Yamaguchi,” Kei intones. He ignores the way Akiteru’s running his hands up and down his stomach, wiggling his knees underneath his own, until his legs are hooked to either side of Akiteru’s knees. He flushes, but says nothing, as Akiteru uses the position to spread both of their thighs open.

“They’re all dirty,” Tadashi lies blithely. He kneels himself in front both brother’s knees. He skims his hands in between Kei’s thighs, petting over the satiny material of Kei’s slacks as he settles between them on his own knees. “Just eat.”

Kei looks at the plate skeptically, then down at Tadashi. “Really?” he asks.

Tadashi rests his cheek sweetly against Kei’s lap, “Mmm, yep,” he murmurs. He nuzzles against Kei’s fly, relishing how the blond’s hips jerk slightly up into his cheek. Tadashi feels Akiteru’s thighs quiver as well, and the older Tsukishima threads his fingers into Tadashi’s hair.

Tadashi looks up and grins lazily, a sex-soaked smirk that makes both brothers, who both are peering down at him with very similar expressions, turn pink. “Eat it with your fingers. Do you want me to show you?” he offers.

FILL: "Cake" (Yamaguchi/Tsukishima Kei/Tsukishima Akiteru, force-feeding) (Incest, Emetophilia) 2/3

(Anonymous) - 2015-05-15 21:22 (UTC) - Expand

FILL: "Cake" (Yamaguchi/Tsukishima Kei/Tsukishima Akiteru, force-feeding) (Incest, Emetophilia) 3/3

(Anonymous) - 2015-05-15 21:24 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: "Cake" (Yamaguchi/Tsukishima Kei/Tsukishima Akiteru, force-feeding) (Incest, Emetophilia)

(Anonymous) - 2015-07-07 02:27 (UTC) - Expand

idk I just want to see them fucking really hard in the bathroom of the gymnasium after their first practice match with Kindaichi still hating Kageyama for the Kitagawa Daiichi events and also being really jealous of Hinata and his on-court relationship with Kageyama.

Top Hinata with Oikawa and Kageyama competing over who's better at pleasuring him. Possibly they were trying to prove they were the better setter and then it turned into who can pleasure Hinata best.

Preferably when Kenma's either a third year or graduated. Without Kuroo around to bug him about his hair, Kenma's taken to growing it out and just leaving it in a loose ponytail for games. Cue Hinata frequently getting distracted by the thought of how [i]soft[/i] his hair looks, and how nice his shampoo smells and...

PS: Super duper gigantic brownie points for 3rd year growth spurt Kenma and hasn't-grown-a-whit-since-first-year-but-broader-across-the-shoulders-and-the-most-killer-legs Hinata ;o;

they can do whatever you want in the closet, but tsukki should be uncomfortable

Parties were, as a general rule, a bad idea.

Kei wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed going out just for the sake of going out. Why voluntarily subject himself to the stupidity of his teammates when he could just as easily stay home? But Tadashi, on the other hand, actually liked going to these functions, and every once in a blue moon, he could convince him to tag along (usually through bribery, or being so obnoxious that it was the only way to get him to shut up).

Tonight was one such event, and they were at the Tanaka residence with the bulk of their team, snacks strewn all over the low table in the living room and people sitting on every available surface. None of them had been drinking, Saeko wasn’t that easygoing, but everyone kind of got a little slap happy after sitting around and drinking copious amounts of caffeine and shoving sugar by the fistful into their mouths.

“Hey, hey,” Nishinoya said, smacking the table with his open palm to get as many people’s attention as possible. “We should play a game, or something.”

“Knowing you, it’s going to be something gross,” Kei grumbled from where he was sitting in the corner and sipping the same iced coffee he’d had all evening.

“It’s not gross,” the shorter boy squawked. “It’s a classic, a classic.”

“What is it?” Yachi pipes up, her eyes all big and round and curious. She’s no Kiyoko, but she certainly gets Noya and Tanaka’s attention.

“It’s called seven minutes in heaven,” Noya says, which draws a collective groan from at least half the people in the room. “And it doesn’t have to be gross. It’s really funny, actually, like that time Daichi and Asahi-“

A box of some kind flies across the room and nails him in the forehead, and Asahi looks like he’d be crawling under the table if he thought he could fit. “I thought everyone had very clear instructions not to talk about that,” Daichi says, his eyebrow twitching.

Hinata and Yachi look beside themselves with curiosity, but they also aren’t stupid enough to tempt fate and try to weasel it out of someone. Kageyama, who is occupying the third space on the couch next to them, scoffs in barely contained disgust. “It sounds stupid. I’m not playing.”

“Oh?” Tanaka’s attention swivels from Asahi to Kageyama, holding his hand over his mouth as if to hide his laughter. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

Key kind of wants to groan at how, predictably, that’s more than sufficient in getting Kageyama to sit on the floor at the table with everyone else, although predictably Kiyoko strictly bans bother herself and Yachi from playing (much to the obvious distress of Tanaka and Noya, like they didn’t see it coming at all). The circle around the table is a bit lopsided, since Tadashi is sitting on a cushion near Kei and doesn’t really want to move and they’ve kind of half-assedly attempted to keep the shape open enough to force him to participate (ha).

Tanaka shoves all the snacks onto the floor with a sweep of his arm (ignoring the mess) and drops an empty bottle of tea on the newly cleared space. “Let’s start with Noya,” he declares, prompting the other to scoot forward and give the bottle a spin. It looks like there’s probably a way to cheat with this, but since the target of his affections is sitting on the couch watching with a blank look, he doesn’t really have a reason to.

The capped end of the bottle ends up pointing at Suga, and Noya seems to be creepily acquainted with which of Tanaka’s closets would be the best space for this. Since she isn’t participating, Yachi is left in charge of the timer, tapping her phone and calling out to them to “gooooooo~!”. There’s probably about forty seconds of silence, some rustling, and rather abruptly, the sound of Noya’s shriek is accompanied by the sound of someone’s body smacking against the door.

“Oh my god,” Daichi says, dragging his hand down his face.

Kei wants to go home.

After that, they don’t last two more minutes before Noya comes stumbling out, face pale and accompanied by a rather serene looking Suga.

“Suga is terrifying,” he whimpers, and that’s all the explanation they get.

“Yamaguchi, you’re next,” Tanaka says, holding the bottle out gravely, like it’s a sword or something. “We always go clockwise.”

Tadashi was sitting next to Noya, so it only made sense, but that didn’t mean he was automatically participating. This was the sort of thing he wasn’t sure if his friend would participate in, because there was a limit to how much stupidity he was willing to entertain. But apparently the threshold for the evening hasn’t been met, because he takes the bottle, scooting forward until he can place it on the table and give it a spin, bottom lip caught in his teeth as he watches.

The bottle seems to be coming to a stop on Hinata, but Suga stretches his legs out with a yawn, jostling the table and causing it to roll until it points right at Kei.

Wow, subtle.

“Ehh, that’s not fair,” Noya whines. “They know each other too well, they’re not going to do anything interesting.”

“Don’t just assume I’m going to participate,” Kei snaps, eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

“You have to,” both Tanaka and Noya say at the same time, and if he wasn’t already backed up to the wall, Kei would back away from the determination in their eyes.

Tadashi is looking at him kind of funny, trying to pipe up and say “uh, guys, he’s not really playing”. Predictably, he’s pointedly ignored, and there are two bodies coming at him like they fully intend to bodily pick him up if they have to. That is so not on his list of things to do today, so he at least stands up in order to keep them from trying to lift him and dropping him. This way, all they really have to do is keep pushing at him until they get him in the closet, stepping aside only long enough for Hinata (why did he join in? asshole) to deposit Tadashi inside as well.

“Have fun you two!” Tanaka crows, slamming the door with much more gusto than necessary, leaving them alone in the dark.

It’s not an overly large closet, and there’s coats pressing against his side and boxes digging into the backs of his knees. The temperature is warm, not uncomfortable yet, but there’s definitely the potential for it to become stifling before their time is up. It smells like dust, stale and stagnant, but standing as close together as they are, at least he can smell Tadashi’s shampoo too.

There’s some shuffling, and in the corner of his vision, he sees a square of light bloom from Tadashi’s phone, casting eerie shadows on his friend’s face, but at least now he isn’t blind. His friend is looking at him in the same way he was outside, eyebrows crinkled and his mouth pulled down in what was an endearingly small frown.

Key realizes, belatedly, that he’s breathing slow and deep, actively forcing himself to keep his inhales and exhales even, tension making his neck and shoulders feel uncomfortably tight as he looks down.

“I’m sorry,” Tadashi says, and his voice gives him something else to focus on. “You’re still claustrophobic, aren’t you?”

“It’s fine.” But the lie is a bad one, since his voice is clipped and sharp and unhappy. “It’s only for a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?”

Tadashi is half-way leaning on him in the confined space, but thankfully, it doesn’t make his nerves worse. Crowds of people never make him panic, but small, dark spaces really get under his skin. His mother told him that when he was still little, probably too little to remember, Akiteru and him had been playing hide and seek, and he’d gotten stuck in the closet. His brother had gotten distracted by something, and no one even realized he was gone until he started crying. Mostly it’s an inconvenience at most, but this is a very small, very dark, very unfamiliar place that he’s more or less been bullied into, and he just wants to get out.

“I don’t want them to find out,” he mumbles, one of his hands resting on Tadashi’s hip. “I don’t think any of them are mean enough to like, push me in a locker or something, but I’d really rather not give them the ammunition.”

“We could just tell them that I’m the one who got scared,” Tadashi says, smiling up at him. “I don’t mind.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he answers immediately. “It’s my problem, not yours.”

Nobody really picks on Tadashi for anything, he’s far too sweet and genuine for that, but he doesn’t like the thought of the other taking on his weaknesses like that.

“Tsukki is nice,” he murmurs, wrapping one of his arms around Kei’s waist and reaching up with his other hand to rest his fingers against the pulse point in his neck. “Here, match your breathing to mine.”

“I’m not nice,” Kei denies, familiar disgust tinting his voice. “I just…don’t like the thought of them giving you a hard time for something that I should deal with on my own.”

Certainly, it’s gotten better as they got older, but it’s hard to forget how they met, how often Kei still had to tell people off even once he’d established himself as a friend and something of a guardian. It was hard to forget how often he cried, when he was still trying to come into himself and learn how to ignore how cruel children could be. No one on their team would do that to him, and Tadashi himself wouldn’t stand for it any longer, but the protectiveness was such a part of his personality that he didn’t know how to turn it off.

“Mm, well, let me look out for you this time, then,” he says, and the phone is held in the hand wrapped around his middle, the light a bit more muted now to the point where Kei can’t really see his face. But he doesn’t really need to, since they’re so close together, his arms now settled over Tadashi’s shoulders and he breathes in and out in steady rhythm.

It’s still too dark and too cramped, but it’s…nice, to be this close together, their chests moving in tandem, Tadashi’s long fingers still hovering over his neck to track the gradual calming of his heart. That single point of contact feels more intimate than all the other places they’re touching, but surprisingly, it doesn’t make him uncomfortable. Honestly, he doesn’t think Tadashi could do anything that would make him uncomfortable.

“Tsukki,” he says, voice carrying a teasing lilt. “You’re calming down, but I can hear your brain going a thousand miles an hour. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he insists, kind of leaning against one of the boxes to better support himself, and it has the added bonus of reducing some of the height difference between them. “I’m not freaking out, but can you honestly expect me to be comfortable in this situation?”

Tadashi makes a contemplative noise, his fingertips smoothing up his neck to brush against his jaw, and while it’s bright enough for him to see the soft smile on his face, the uncrushable fondness his eyes, he finds himself irked that he can’t see the splash of freckles across his cheeks.

“Do you want me to distract you?” he asks, and while his tone is still light, there’s something else there. Kei isn’t well versed in emotions, not even a little bit, but even he isn’t stupid enough to miss the meaning behind the way his fingertips touch softly at his cheek, like he’s touching something delicate and priceless and irreplaceable.

He doesn’t trust himself to speak around the lump in his throat, so he nods instead, a barely there movement that he’s sure Tadashi feels more than he actually sees. And he was expecting something to happen immediately, sudden and surprising, but no, instead he just keeps touching his face, smoothing over his jaw and the bridge of his nose, jumping over the frames of his glasses to brush the hair from his forehead.

Lips, dry and a little chapped but still warm, follow his fingers, brushing his forehead and cheek before getting anywhere near his mouth. It’s all soft whispers against his skin, making his heart feel full and the thoughts swirling around his head grinding to a complete standstill.

And the first brush of their lips is short, just a breath of contact, but he comes back for longer each time, tilting his head to keep Kei’s glasses from digging into his face. Tadashi’s fingers settle at the nape of his neck, gentle pressure showing him where and how to tilt his head, and that instinctual, protective, jealous part of him wants to know how he’s so damn good at this.

At the first brush of his tongue, Kei opens his mouth without a second thought, and he can taste sugar and chocolate and a hint of bitter coffee clinging to Tadashi’s tongue and the backs of his teeth. It’s not something he’d consider hot, but it’s sweet, like syrup, and he makes a soft, appreciative noise in the back of his throat.

Tadashi kisses him carefully, but with the familiarity that can only come from knowing each other for so many years. His thumb rubs small circles against the back of his neck as he licks the roof of his mouth, and Kei kind of hates how much he feels like just swooning.

The phone in his hand give a little rumble, and he’s really too sluggish and content to startle at the sudden sound. It was probably a text, but instead of looking at it, Tadashi just kisses him slow and close-lipped, returning to those soft, chaste little brushes of their lips that started this whole thing. It makes him feel like they’re winding down, but Tadashi doesn’t want to just pull away with a comical smack sound and leave.

Fingers brush against his sensitive lips, and it prompts him into opening his eyes. Tadashi is so red that it’s kind of a comical counterpoint to how smooth he’d been acting, and it makes Kei snort on a laugh. “Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Kei responds, and his voice sounds a little deeper than usual, but not panicked or uneasy or tight. “Uh, more than okay, really. Thanks.”

Tadashi beams, and it makes his heart do something a little uncomfortable in his chest.

“Did someone text you?” he asks, trying to draw attention away from the uncharacteristically open comment he just made, and thankfully, Tadashi lets him.

“Suga,” he answered with a self-conscious clearing of his throat. “He told me that our time is almost up.”

The image of Suga smacking the table with his leg comes back to him. “He did this on purpose.”

Tadashi is blushing even harder, if that’s possible. Hmm. It looks like he’s going to need to have a conversation with their vice-captain.

There’s a commotion outside, Noya and Tanaka calling obnoxiously that they’re coming to let them out, that they should stop anything indecent that they’re doing unless they want the whole team to see them.

Kei leans up, kissing Tadashi’s cheek before letting his arms fall back to his side. “Don’t wait for us to get locked in a closet, next time.”

Surprise flits across Tadashi’s face, but it blossoms into a purer kind of happiness than he feels like it should be possible for someone like him to ever give someone.

“Congratulations,” Noya and Tanaka crow, and Tsukishima kicks both of them in the shin on his way back to his corner.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he says, folding himself back into his slightly defensive position, picking up his now warm drink and taking a sip. “You’re the ones who said nothing interesting was going to happen, so pretending to be smug is stupid.”

They both look quite deflated at that, which makes Tadashi laugh. “Sorry, sorry!” he says as he settles back down.

It’s a bit different from how they were sitting before, because Tadashi’s back is leaning against the leg Kei has draw up towards his chest; a relatively small point of contact, but still present. Wisely, those few who do notice, choose not to comment.

Re: just say "no" to parties | tsukishima/yamaguchi

(Anonymous) - 2015-07-08 21:49 (UTC) - Expand

i don't mind who goes down on who or the circumstances or anything i just need this....so badly.....

((this is a little rough, but i had to fill it...))

Suga was pretty sure this had all started with one very, very bad joke in the Karasuno girl's locker room.

"Yo Noya, have you heard of Australian kisses?"

"What?! No, Ryuu, what are they?"

"It's like a French kiss, but down under!"

The two second year girls howled in laughter at the joke until Daichi's glare from across the locker room made them shut up.

The question was how it got from there to here.

Sure, Suga noticed that her friend/captain/now partner was a little quiet on the way home, like she was thinking about something in the back of her mind. She noticed that they held hands the whole way to Daichi's house, because her parents weren't home until late tonight and they could take a long study break which was Daichi's way of saying "make out and maybe more". Suga was never one to argue with that.

However, Suga was on her back on Daichi's bed, her unbuttoned school shirt showing off her now disheveled lacy bra, skirt flipped up to give Suga a clear view of Daichi's firmly concentrating face between her legs. In the months they had been doing... whatever this is, Daichi had become incredible with her mouth like it was a hidden talent, waiting to be found. The flat of her tongue dragged long, hot lines over Suga's folds until they pushed inside of her, sending an shudder down her spine. The setter's hands shot down into short, yet soft black hair, fingers fisting into it to hold herself steady. They had barely started and she was already breathing hard like they were deep in the second set, god, Suga was so, so screwed. It didn't help that her captain's uniform was on the floor, leaving her in nothing but matching knickers and socks. She looked too hot to be fair, as far as Suga was concerned, with those gorgeous back muscles flexing to adjust to the position and firm arms holding her legs.

Daichi only moaned against her as Suga tugged, fingers tracing random patterns over her partner's very sensitive thighs.

Thank god Daichi's parents aren't home, Suga thought, I have no idea how I can stay quiet.

But those teasing fingers were pinching Suga's clit before she realized what was happening, head rolling back with a gasp, and that was the last full thought Suga had for a while.

Suga's reaction only made Daichi more relentless, rolling her tongue against the walls of soft wetness, fingers rubbing and pinching as if there was no tomorrow. The captain moaned against Suga, and Suga was helpless to reply with anything but a broken moan of Daichi's name, legs shaking and baring into Daichi's back. Every touch, every lick, and every groan made the setter's blood boil and her nerves stand on an electric edge until Daichi pushes her thumb down hard on Sugawara's clit while curling her tongue just the right way and god, that was it, Suga barely moans out a warning as she comes all over Daichi's face.

She tried not to shiver as Daichi laps up the mess between her thighs, clearly enjoying herself down there with a coy smile over her cum-slick lips.

After a few more breathless seconds, she has to ask - "Please don't tell me this was because of that stupid joke."

Daichi grins, all teeth and mischief. "No, I just wanted to give you a special kiss. Is that so bad?"

And Suga can only laugh, smacking Daichi on the arm.

"Then let me return the favor."

Re: australian kisses (daichi/suga, rule63&cunnilingus)

(Anonymous) - 2014-11-07 10:03 (UTC) - Expand

OP

(Anonymous) - 2014-11-07 17:10 (UTC) - Expand

it hurt me so bad to know there is hardly any kiyoyachi fic and like....... no nsfw out of the little there is. where is it :'0

bonus for cute things in the leadup

Yachi takes a deep breath and knocks on the door to Kiyoko’s apartment. Her roommate is apparently gone for the weekend, and Yachi is staying over, and even just thinking about the implications of that makes Yachi’s heartbeat speed up to dangerous levels.

The door opens before she can get too worked up, and Kiyoko is standing there in front of her in shorts and a tank top, smiling. She’s so wonderfully, alarmingly beautiful that Yachi almost drops her bag of overnight things right on the floor.

Then she really does drop it, because Kiyoko is pulling her in for a hug and she smells so good it should probably be illegal.

“Missed you,” Kiyoko says softly, once she’s ushered Yachi inside.

Yachi still feels like there must be someone lurking behind her who’s more deserving of Kiyoko’s affections, but the thought is easily quieted when Kiyoko leans down to kiss her. She responds enthusiastically, winding her fingers through Kiyoko’s soft dark hair and opening her mouth with a little gasp when Kiyoko’s tongue touches her bottom lip.

“I missed you too,” Yachi says when they break apart, still hovering close enough that she can see how Kiyoko flushes with pleasure at the words.

That just makes Yachi want to kiss her even more, and so she dives back in, pressing clumsy kisses against the corner of her mouth and her jaw and that sensitive spot right by her ear. Kiyoko shivers and runs a hand along the line of Yachi’s back, all the way up to the nape of her neck.

“Do you wanna go to my room?” Kiyoko sounds a little sheepish. “I was planning on making dinner first, but--”

“Yes,” Yachi interrupts, so overwhelmed that she has to just bury her face in Kiyoko’s neck for a second and inhale. They’ve both been busy with finals, and she’s spent the past few weeks imagining how it would be when they finally found time to see each other again, sometimes with a hand down her pants and sometimes not.

“Sorry,” she says when she emerges, because just standing around sniffing people probably isn’t sexy.

“It’s okay,” says Kiyoko, a laugh in her voice as she leads Yachi down the hall.

Her bedroom is just as neat and tidy as the last time Yachi came over, and it still smells just like her. Yachi is so preoccupied with trying to take everything in that she’s unprepared for it when Kiyoko gently pushes her onto the bed, letting out a squeak that she immediately regrets.

Kiyoko grins wider, bracing a hand by Yachi’s head and leaning down to kiss her again. Her tongue dips shallowly into Yachi’s mouth as she rests her palm low down on Yachi’s stomach, pushing her shirt out of the way until it’s rucked up over the top of her bra. Yachi sits up so she can tug it all the way off, and then waits a little breathlessly for Kiyoko to do the same.

“Yours too,” she says, in case it isn’t completely obvious what she wants, and then wants to kick herself for being overeager.

Kiyoko doesn’t seem to mind, though, pulling her tank top over her head and getting rid of her bra along with it. Yachi has to close her eyes and take a few deep breaths, or else she’ll probably hyperventilate or something else terrible. When she started attending university, Kiyoko had gotten back into playing sports, and it shows in the easy muscles of her bare arms and stomach. If there’s a better sight to be seen in this world, Yachi doesn’t know about it.

Then Kiyoko is pulling her close, deftly unhooking her bra and laying kisses along the line of her throat.

Yachi lets out a shuddery gasp when Kiyoko opens her mouth, licking a spot on her neck and dragging her teeth across it until it’s flushed red and shiny with spit. Her hands come up to tangle in Kiyoko’s hair again, aimlessly twisting her fingers through it. Yachi can already feel herself getting wet, and it only gets worse as Kiyoko’s mouth moves lower. Soon she’s sucking kisses into the tops of Yachi’s breasts, and Yachi already feels so thoroughly debauched she’s not sure whether she’ll survive the whole night.

She actually whimpers when Kiyoko starts sucking one of her nipples, hands immediately flying out of Kiyoko’s hair to cover her mouth as she blushes bright red. Kiyoko glances up and smiles, a fond smile that Yachi’s seen a million times before, except now Kiyoko’s mouth looks slick and a little swollen and Yachi only blushes harder.

“You don’t have to be so embarrassed,” Kiyoko says. Yachi can’t really concentrate on the words, because she’s also pinching the nipple she’d just had her mouth on and rolling it deliberately back and forth between her fingertips.

“I can’t really help it,” Yachi says, the words coming out muffled from behind her hand, but Kiyoko is already back to work.

She bites at the soft underside of Yachi’s breast, rubbing thumbs over her nipples in hard little circles until Yachi forgets how to breathe right. Then she travels further down, pressing a line of kisses down the center of Yachi’s stomach until she reaches the button of her shorts.

Yachi, who’d held her breath the entire time Kiyoko was kissing her stomach so that she wouldn’t be heaving around unattractively under her mouth, lets it all out in a huge gust and pushes her hips up, begging wordlessly.

“Don’t worry,” says Kiyoko, reaching down to undo the button and easing Yachi’s shorts down, tossing them aside once they’re off. Her voice sounds innocent, but her expression looks anything but. “There’s plenty of time.”

Yachi had been hoping against hope that Kiyoko would take her panties off along with the shorts, her usual shyness at being naked trumped by how incredibly turned on she is. Instead, Kiyoko backs off, kissing the inside of her knee with a smile.

Yachi squirms, letting out a whiny noise that’s even more embarrassing than her earlier squeak, but Kiyoko’s mouth still moves achingly slow, kissing all the way up her thigh and spending an inordinate amount of time at the crease right at the top. Her knuckles keep brushing over the wet spot at the front of Yachi’s panties, and Yachi is absolutely positive she’s about to die. She can’t even be mad about it, because on a list of ways to go this would be pretty high up there.

After about a thousand years, Kiyoko finally hooks her fingers in the waistband and tugs them down. For a long moment after that she makes no move to touch or anything, just quietly observes as Yachi squirms underneath her.

“Please,” says Yachi, a lot louder and more desperately than she’d meant to, and Kiyoko finally gives in.

She plants one more kiss on Yachi’s thigh, and then she’s licking her, long and slow and messy. Yachi lets out a strangled noise, toes curling in the sheets. She’d been so tense a couple seconds ago, but now she feels like she’s melting into the mattress, pleasure hazing over her brain until all she can focus on is trying not to grind down on Kiyoko’s face.

Her tongue is so soft and hot and wet, and the beauty mark near her mouth is just barely visible if Yachi cranes her neck. Soon, she moves on from the broad, flat strokes of her tongue and starts concentrating on Yachi’s clit.

Yachi moans as Kiyoko seals her lips around it and sucks, not bothering to cover her mouth this time. It feels so good, unbelievable, and the fact that it’s Kiyoko down there doing that to her somehow makes it even better.

Kiyoko pushes a finger inside her and she makes a sound almost like a sob, her whole body shuddering as Kiyoko’s tongue drags up over her clit again.

“Gonna come,” Yachi breathes, feeling it build up inside her. Kiyoko moans, and the sound has Yachi working her hips up shamelessly, searching for more of that feeling.

Kiyoko crooks the finger she has inside Yachi, stroking her insides as her tongue curls against Yachi’s clit, and Yachi comes harder than she has in recent memory. It seems to last forever, and Kiyoko soothes her through it, petting her thighs as she leans up to kiss her, mouth and chin impossibly slick and wet.

Yachi kisses back hungrily, hands already gravitating to the hem of Kiyoko’s skirt.

“We can wait,” Kiyoko gasps when Yachi presses fingers against her through her underwear, but that’s probably the worst idea Yachi’s ever heard.

She’s too impatient to take the rest of Kiyoko’s clothes off, so she just reaches up underneath her skirt and pushes her panties aside. She’s so wet already, like maybe she’d been touching herself while she was getting Yachi off, and Yachi sinks two fingers inside her right away.

She starts up a rhythm, quick thrusts in and out while she rubs Kiyoko’s clit, because she knows Kiyoko likes it a little rough like that. Yachi really wants to go down on her, to taste her and feel her come apart up close, and she’s absolutely certain that she will before the night is over. Right now, though, she’s just focused on making Kiyoko come as quickly as possible.

“You’re so hot,” she blurts out, taking in Kiyoko’s flushed face and the way her chest heaves as her glasses slip down her nose.

Kiyoko just tips her head back and inhales sharply, the tight wet heat surrounding Yachi’s fingers spasming as she comes. Yachi keeps fucking her until Kiyoko shudders all over and pushes her hand away, too sensitive to continue.

Yachi hums happily and slides the fingers that had been inside Kiyoko into her mouth, figuring it’s more polite than just wiping them on the bedsheet. Kiyoko tips over with a groan and pulls Yachi close to her, tangling their legs together and dropping a kiss into her hair. She’s still breathing hard, and Yachi feels slightly exhausted herself.

“Missed you,” Kiyoko repeats into the quiet surrounding them. Yachi smiles and reaches for Kiyoko’s hand, lacing their fingers tightly together.

Re: FILL: "some head in a comfortable bed" (kiyoko/yachi)

(Anonymous) - 2014-10-28 06:44 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: "some head in a comfortable bed" (kiyoko/yachi)

(Anonymous) - 2014-10-28 06:48 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: "some head in a comfortable bed" (kiyoko/yachi)

(Anonymous) - 2014-11-01 14:01 (UTC) - Expand

(Can we even put SFW requests here?)

Tsukishima Akiteru has a thing for blondes. Especially tiny, cute energetic ones. So when his (busty, blonde) former schoolmate greets him with "Yo, Tsukishima, long time no see," he thinks enduring Kei's quiet rage after he notices him coming to watch Karasuno's match will be worth it.
But this is not Akiteru's story.
A few weeks (months?) later the younger Tsukishima and the younger Tanaka have to face the horrible reality - their older siblings are now dating.

So, yeah, that's basically it. I noticed Tsukki and Tanaka get along surprisingly well in canon, at least when it comes to making fun of people. Let them be brothers in misery.
Bonus points for other crows?...

There isn't nearly enough nsfw AsaNoya fic out there, and even less rule 63 fic. Cute romantic smut please?

I want filthy Oikage and I want angry reluctant prostitute Kageyama's hands sliding up Oikawa's stupid thighs THE REST IS UP TO YOU

Ahh sorry this is pretty terrible because it's following right after, but: Kageyama is a clueless salaryman having a drink, Oikawa is a prostitute who has him for an easy target. Oikawa is not wrong haha........

oh my god this is a mess but i needed to exorcise it from my life. /salutes

Kageyama's tie is surely crooked by now, because he can't keep his hands off it. He's sweating, just enough to feel it itching at his hairline. He needs to shower and his eyes ache and he's going to miss the last train, but when Oikawa turns around it's like the sudden drop in his stomach when a lift reaches the destination floor. The distance between them is so claustrophobic with obscure expectations that there's no polite way to excuse himself. Kageyama's nerves are stripped wire, twitching with anxious energy.

"Oikawa-san," he tries, but the sentence is another dead end that his brain slams against, leaving him momentarily stunned from the impact.

"Scary," Oikawa answers, with a lilt that implies it isn't even a little.

The suite's curtains are drawn. There's an armchair, and a bed, with a sedately moss-coloured duvet. The potted plants are fake, traced faintly with dust, and Oikawa is humming among them like expectations have never troubled him in his life. Oikawa is shrugging out of his jacket as though he's about to make himself at home, and his footsteps make no sound on the carpet. There's no reason for Kageyama to be here, watching every dip and turn and careless toss of hair, but he hasn't thought of a good reason to leave yet, either.

"You started making a scary face," Oikawa adds, as he folds his blazer over his arm. "Can it be that you've had second thoughts already?"

A cafe with late hours would have been cheaper. The hotel bar was probably fine, given his colleagues had parted ways so early; after this many years Kageyama can't imagine anything Oikawa could possibly have to say that requires more privacy than that. He can't imagine a conversation at all, but he has to, because he's still here, and Oikawa Tooru is leaning on the arm of the chair with a razor-thin smile, and Kageyama hasn't even had first thoughts. Oikawa's outfit looks distractingly like his school uniform had: white shirt short enough that it flashes a sliver of skin at the stomach when he stretches back too far. His tie's in a half-hearted knot, juvenile, and it's all very strange because the rest of him doesn't actually look like he had looked in school, except for his ridiculous haircut. His haircut hasn't changed in the slightest.

Kageyama's not drunk, strictly speaking. It's more like he's just a little bit overheated, and everything is still moving too slowly and too fast in turns, like a stuttering analogue film. Dissonance hisses through its soundtrack with static, drowning his thoughts in the noise. This Oikawa Tooru is so much sharper than the memory he inhabits, all the softness of youth gone from his face. His body is muscled but somehow too compact, imparting less the impression of something built on and more like something carved away.

"I still run," Oikawa offers, because of course he notices Kageyama looking.

When Kageyama finds his voice at last, he says, "I didn't ask," but by then Oikawa has closed the distance, and his hands are already on Kageyama's face. By then Oikawa is pushing at the furrow between Kageyama's brows, and unlike the rest of him Oikawa's fingertips are unexpectedly soft, tellingly uncallused, capable now of a butterfly-light skitter from Kageyama's forehead and down the bridge of his nose, halfway across his cheek before Kageyama knocks the arm away and says, "Stop."

"Stop?" Oikawa echoes blankly, like it's a word from a language he doesn't speak. Oikawa is leaning in close enough for Kageyama to smell his cologne, something airy and coy, and despite the lightness of the scent Kageyama feels like his throat is closing up around it. Oikawa's pout is weirdly dewy from lip gloss, and Kageyama can feel the warmth radiating out from his chest, can see his neck work when he swallows, a faint glitter of sweat caught in his eyebrows. The way he imposes all these minute, irrelevant details of his biology on Kageyama's awareness is suddenly infuriating; overwhelming.

"Why," he's murmuring, close enough to the side of Kageyama's face that his ridiculous hair tickles at his ear, "you do know how this works, don't you?"

"I don't--" Kageyama starts to say, but Oikawa pushes a finger to his lip, and he does know. He'd began to suspect in the lobby and he'd considered it very seriously when Oikawa's hands slid into his pockets, and now, in a hotel suite he'd probably paid for without arguing about even it a little, Oikawa Tooru's finger is trying to slide between his lips, and Kageyama can't breathe, he's not drunk at all, and he knows.

Kageyama turns his head to the side with a grimace, so that Oikawa's finger drags wet across his cheek, then falls to a loose grip at his necktie, temporarily thwarted. "No need to be rude," Oikawa chides, with a sticky and vacuous smile that is exactly as fake as Kageyama remembers it after all these years, so that he feels a weird rush of something near to remorse even as frustration begins to churn again in his gut, a restless tension seething his joints.

Oikawa is tugging the knot free, flicking a button loose with his thumb while his eyes never leave Kageyama's face. Beneath his stupid fringe Oikawa's eyes are sharp and cold, not at all nostalgic.

"You don't?" Oikawa prompts then, slowly, the words exaggerated by the absurd shape of his mouth, and Kageyama's trapped, pressed against the door, trapped by Oikawa's proximity and the glossy wet pout of his lips. Oikawa takes advantage of his silence and snakes his fingers through Kageyama's hair until he's cupping the back of his skull, but the tension doesn't break, and Kageyama can't move at all, can't concentrate on anything but those hands, and how they'd pushed at his mouth only moments ago. The seconds begin to pass like a slow trickle of honey in his head, newly sweet and suffocating. He doesn't fight it because Oikawa only makes a loose fist, pulling sideways with just enough force to skirt the boundary of pain. "Liar," Oikawa whispers, shiny lips curling, and suddenly he's dragging teeth down Kageyama's exposed throat, a brief sharp scrape on his skin that ends with the gentlest exhalation at Kageyama's collarbone. "You're still a brat, you know that?"

Kageyama opens his mouth to reply but to his horror it just emerges as a choked off noise, and Oikawa looks so very pleased, his face and his mouth so very near, that when Kageyama bends forward to kiss him and never catches his lips, the absence of an answering pressure is enough to make him dizzy. "Oikawa-san--"

Oikawa's mouth is so red, like an overripe fruit's splitting skin, but Oikawa's palm is pressed to Kageyama's sternum--holding him back, rejecting his terms of surrender--and Kageyama's heartbeat throbs so hard in his throat he can't breathe except in the smallest stuttering gasp.

"We don't do that," Oikawa is saying, shaking his head like he's delivering a lecture to a child, so that all Kageyama can do is nod along, lost, while his pulse struggles to race out of his skin. It's somehow easier to agree to small conditions, these new and easily digestible conditions, while the whole of the thing pushes at the edges, too large for him to take in. Oikawa's palm slides down his chest, down further still, until his hands are a weight pulling at Kageyama's belt, his knuckles a flirtatious brush against Kageyama's stomach.

"Ah ah," he smiles, gently. "There's the Tobio I remember. Knows when to listen to senpai."

It's as though inside him has begun to shake, a trembling feeling deep enough down that it doesn't quite reach the surface. Kageyama's hands are steady, his hands are always steady, but somehow they feel like they should be shaking at his sides. He doesn't know what he wants to do with them--curl them into fists, or touch Oikawa's face, or his hair--he only knows that he wants to kiss this Oikawa and he can't, so he falls back against the door and lets Oikawa drop down and breathe hot against his navel while his fingers work the buckle.

Oikawa's hands shouldn't feel so familiar, because he's never touched Kageyama with anything like gentleness. Even now the soft press of his lips to Kageyama's hip is like a parody of intimacy, ruined by the wrong angles of his smile, the insincere gust of laughter against the straining front of Kageyama's briefs. And Kageyama's never expected anything else, so it's neither a disappointment nor a surprise for Oikawa to say, "you're very sensitive, aren't you," in a way that sounds more like an insult than anything. His fingers trace delicate lines along the cotton seams and Kageyama can't be sure whether he's begun to shake in earnest or it's just the dizzy blood rush in his head, but Oikawa's thumbs are digging into the hollows of his hips now, bruisingly hard, and his mouth is--

The drag of Oikawa's tongue is too dampened by the fabric and somehow still too much to bear. "Oikawa-san," Kageyama groans, and even these syllables barely cohere, tumbling out of a blind fumble in his throat. "S-s--"

"Don't tell me to stop." Oikawa's lips are close enough to flutter against Kageyama's trapped erection, against the wet spot he's sucked into the underwear that traps it. "Look how hard you are now, but you'll still pretend you want me to stop?”

"I want," Kageyama blurts, and he bites back on the words, catches his own lip in his teeth to stop the shameful rush--but it's too late, Oikawa's smile is quick and tender and cruel, his thumbs digging in past the point of pain, an implicit but undeniable command.

"Tell me."

"Hands," Kageyama whispers, and squeezes his eyes shut to the expression blooming on Oikawa's face. "Your hands."

Against the dark backs of his eyelids Kageyama can still picture them with perfect clarity: the map of tendons and the pale trace of the veins beneath his skin, the neat trim of Oikawa's nails and their impeccable cuticles; his long, impossibly strong fingers and where their calluses should be but aren't anymore, the way their scrape should feel against his cheek, his thighs, his throat. Oikawa's answering laugh is soft, softer than the rest of him, even his too-smooth fingertips. "You really haven't changed," he's saying, sounding both annoyed and fond at the same time. The pressure of his thumbs relents but they're tracing circles now, not light enough to be ticklish but too light for his nerves to relax, and he wants to look, he wants to watch Oikawa's hands move against his skin, but it's so difficult to look.

As expected, Oikawa is staring right at his face, lips still quirked, almost bemused. "You really want this," he declares, and his palm slides over Kageyama's hip, slender fingers skimming his waist, and then he cups Kageyama's crotch and squeezes, just once. The warmth spreads up Kageyama's spine, through his entire body until it feels like too much for his skin to contain, like he might split open and spill all over this anonymous room. Oikawa rises from his knees, stands at full height and takes him in hand again, presses his next words against the line of Kageyama's jaw. "Is this a fantasy of yours? You want it so badly you're already--"

"Please," Kageyama says, and shuts his eyes again before the moisture spills. Oikawa's lips are brushing his earlobe, the crest of his cheek, the corner of his mouth, and it's all he can say, it's all he's ever been able to say. "Yes. Please."

"Good," Oikawa murmurs, and he's pressing in again, scrubbing his palm in hard circles, too rough, just right. "Maybe I haven't changed either." His fingers are a warm curl against Kageyama's abdomen, sliding under the waistband of his briefs, hanging there in unbearable stasis--"Maybe," he huffs, hot against Kageyama's mouth, "I still just want to crush my useless, adorable kouhai."

Kageyama moans, but the sound is muffled by Oikawa's own mouth, by Oikawa's tongue slipping between his lips so easily, wet and hot and demanding. This isn't right but even in Kageyama's head he can barely formulate a question, so he doesn't dare to break the contact, not with Oikawa's fingers finally wrapped around his cock, the heat and the smell of him everywhere, his free hand scraping cool fingernails under Kageyama's shirt.

Kageyama lets the wall take his weight and sinks into it, the friction, the noise of his own pulse and the impossible slide of Oikawa's mouth against his own. He tastes like the mints from the lounge, generic and playful as his cologne, but Oikawa's grip is too tight, the jerk of his wrist like something resentful, and his tongue fucks with no trace of coy affectation. His teeth sink into Kageyama's lip and they don't break the skin but it hurts, a dull throb in counterpoint to the throb in his cock, and afterward Oikawa laps at the sore spot, and smiles against it, and he says, "You're even easier than I expected, Tobio-chan."

When Kageyama comes it's more like blunt force trauma than an orgasm. He's barely conscious when Oikawa pulls back to show him, to draw one slick finger over his lips so that he has to taste himself on Oikawa's hand, so that he blacks out with bitterness in his mouth, and a lingering trace of mint.

His wallet's long gone when he wakes, but his mobile's still next to his hand, blinking with unidentified texts. And he's never expected anything else, so it's neither a disappointment nor a surprise that there's an attachment, and the frame shows just enough to leave no trace of doubt, while Oikawa's own face is obscured. Some gentlemen at the lounge paid me an advance on this photo, it reads, but I think I'll keep this one for myself, Tobio-chan, since you tip so well. Must be a popular guy at the office! Guess you're still doing your thing. xx. (＾∀＾)b⌒☆

Re: FILL: "service ace" (oikage, dubcon)

(Anonymous) - 2015-06-20 04:32 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: "service ace" (oikage, dubcon)

(Anonymous) - 2016-06-30 05:29 (UTC) - Expand

Hinata sandwich

i feel that ppl often think oikawa feels he is some sort of volleyball god but i feel a lot of what he says in canon (eg admitting kageyama is far more skillful than him) def disproves that.... so i just want oikawa getting off to iwaizumi saying encouraging things to him whilst getting HIM off

"Tooru," Iwaizumi breathes out, his voice deep, a little rough, and Oikawa moans around his cock loudly. Iwaizumi's breath hitches and he runs his fingers through Oikawa's hair, petting it incessantly. "Fuck, Tooru."

Oikawa loves when Iwaizumi gets this tone of voice, and it only ever happens when he's being sucked off. It is, in perfectly honesty, one of the reasons that Oikawa is so good at sucking cock, why he enjoys kneeling on the floor of Iwaizumi's room, doing this. He loves making Iwaizumi moan like this, loves hearing him talk in that husky voice of his, heavy breaths punctuating his words, shaky exhales and soft gasps.

Opening his mouth wider, Oikawa tightens his grip on Iwaizumi's thighs and bobs his head, taking more of him. Iwaizumi's cock nudges the back of Oikawa's throat.

"Fuck," Iwaizumi says again, and then after a deep breath, says, "I wish you could have seen yourself on the court today."

Oikawa hums at the back of his throat, the vibration of it making Iwaizumi gasp again. The fingers in his hair tug gently, and Iwaizumi takes a deep breath.

"You look so fucking graceful when you're doing that jump serve, Tooru, the way you run up for it, the way your body curves—fuck." Iwaizum's hips jerk, but he doesn't stop talking. "That serve is so deadly, so—hnn—powerful. It looks so satisfying, sounds so satisfying. The way it feels for me when you send me one of your perfect tosses. Like the ball was made just for me to slam my hand against it."

Oikawa hollows his cheeks, looking up to find Iwaizumi watching him. There's a flush across his handsome face, his mouth open as he pants loudly. Oikawa bobs his head again, tongue running along the underside of Iwaizumi's cock.

Iwaizumi does this when Oikawa sucks his cock, when Oikawa is on his knees with his mouth full, so he can't reply, can't interrupt, can't do anything but listen. He tells Oikawa the things he needs to hear, the things that he always wants to hear, praise spilling from his lips so easily here in this moment, when it usually comes like blood squeezed from a stone.

Oikawa still has his hands on Iwaizumi's thighs, hasn't moved them once, but his cock is already so wet, dripping so much precome that it's running down his thigh. Iwaizumi's praise doesn't once mention the things that Oikawa doesn't need to hear; he knows how pretty he is, he knows how popular he is. What Oikawa needs is to be told that he's a good volleyball player, that he's a good team member, a good captain, and Iwaizumi gives him that, breathy and stuttering as Oikawa blows him.

"You make Seijou s-so great," Iwaizumi stutters, as Oikawa swallows around him. "You lift us up to the top of our game—uhh—you make yourself better and it m-makes us better too, we—we wouldn't be half this good without you guiding the way."

Oikawa can tell that Iwaizumi is close. He slides his lips back and forth, matching the thrusts of Iwaizumi's hips, letting Iwaizumi fuck his mouth. The fingers in his hair tighten their grip again and it's almost painful, but Oikawa likes that, likes the desperation, the way Iwaizumi is forcing his words out, like it's taking so much effort to stay coherent.

"Love playing with you, Tooru. Love spiking your tosses. Love you."

The last one might not have as much to do with volleyball, but Oikawa needs to hear it too. He lets Iwaizumi control the pace now, lets him thrust and thrust until he's spilling down Oikawa's throat with a loud moan.

Iwaizumi immediately pulls Oikawa up off the floor and into his lap, jerking him off. Oikawa's so tightly wound that it only takes a couple of strokes before he's shaking apart, moaning, his voice sounding wrecked. Iwaizumi kisses him and kisses him, arms wrapped around him like something precious.

Oikawa is blushing so hard that he can feel his face and his ears burning. It's a good thing Iwaizumi doesn't treat him this gently on a daily basis, he thinks. He doesn't think he could survive that. Even this is overwhelming, but as Iwaizumi presses soft kisses to his lips, to his cheeks, to the rest of his face, Oikawa can only smile. In small doses like this, it feels like the best thing in the entire world.

bonus points for kuroo being on the receiving end

Kenma thought that since Kuroo's university was only an hour and a half away by train, they could easily visit one another when they had days off, or meet up somewhere in Tokyo to hang out.

The keywords being 'having spare time'. But Kuroo had gotten a volleyball scholarship at his school, not to mention taking a full course load, and Kenma was the new Nekoma team captain, making him suddenly in charge of all the rowdy first and second years. He did a good job at making everyone feel at ease, but it took a lot out of him.

So their relationship became more about texting, playing games online, and the occasional video chat on skype. It was okay, but not really enough. Both of them knew that.

"...We don't have practice next Sunday." Kenma said matter of factly, watching Kuroo's eyebrow shoot up his forehead. "If you're free, I can come up Saturday night."

"Oh ho, yes, please show up." Kuroo says, trying not to sound like he's begging. "I've actually got a great idea for something fun we can try. If you're up for it."

"I don't see why not." Kuroo sometimes came up with some crazy ideas, but they were never anything that far out of left field to make Kenma feel uncomfortable. "What is it?"

And just like that, Kuroo's smile went crooked and sly. "Consider it a surprise."

Kenma rolled his eyes, but accepted it anyway.

---

"Are... you sure about this Kuroo?"

"Positive. Are you?"

Kenma took a deep breath, running the black fabric through his fingers, and god, now he was really glad Kuroo hadn't told him about this when they skyped. He would've been half hard all week just thinking about it.

"Absolutely."

Kuroo grinned with mischief flicking in his brown eyes, laying himself flat on the bed. "Then c'mon and give me your worst Kenma."

Kenma gave his partner a smirk of his own as he moved up and straddled his partner, sitting his weight on Kuroo's stomach. "If you keep talking like that I'll tie this over your mouth instead."

Kuroo's eyes went wide, biting his lower lip like he was praying that Kenma's words were a fucking promise, and god, the realization shot through Kenma like lightening. No one should have this much power over another person, it was intoxicating.

"Put your hands behind your head like-- yeah, there." Kenma sat up just enough to push up Kuroo's shirt over his head, but stopping around his wrists so he could twist the shirt enough to tie the fabric into a knot behind his head. There wasn't a bedpost or anything, so Kenma made due with this.

"Hey, where did you learn how to do that?" Kuroo craned his neck up, trying to look at Kenma's handiwork. He shivered when Kenma brushed his lips over his adam's apple before answering.

"I... may have thought about doing this, too." he admits, voice low.

Kuroo could only groan, "Oh my god, Kenma, you're killing me."

"Do you want me to put on the blindfold or not."

"Sorry, sorry. You're the boss."

Kenma sighs, rolling his eyes, but he knows his cheeks are turning pink from this whole situation, having his boyfriend mostly naked underneath him, asking for him to blindfold him and tie him up and do... anything, really, Kuroo would give Kenma free reign over his body for the night. There were so many choices, Kenma thought, as he tied the black fabric around Kuroo's face, making sure the knot doesn't pull on that natural bedhead, it was hard to figure out where to start.

He sat back when the deed was done, and licked his lips. Kenma had always been the more observant one, and he'd been observing and watching Kuroo for years. But seeing him like this was new, fully open and waiting for Kenma to move.

He decided to start with touching - starting at running through Kuroo's thick, black hair, over the dips and corners of his ears, along the solid line of his jaw, the one he had kissed over hundreds of times, down to the dip of his neck, making sure to slow his fingers over the places where Kuroo was most sensitive, just to make him shiver and the flush cover his cheeks. The color of his blush made a great contrast against the black.

Kuroo breathed out Kenma's name, but he didn't stop touching, over Kuroo's collarbones, the scar just under his left one from where he fell from a tree when he was ten, down the solid plane of muscle that made up his chest, which, Kenma noted with appreciation, had only gotten firmer and more pronounced, probably due to the added weight training regime his university did for athletes. His fingers followed down the ridges and lines of ribs, scooting himself backwards onto Kuroo's hips to give him more places to touch, only to quietly gasp out in surprise. From just this, Kuroo was already completely hard.

"I'm not sorry." Kenma could tell Kuroo was trying to tease, but it was lost with the hoarse shakiness of his voice.

Kenma hummed, and slowly lifted himself up and to sit beside Kuroo instead of on top of him, because Kuroo had the nerve to still be wearing pants. With a small tsk, Kenma worked them off and down to Kuroo's ankles, before taking off his own pants.

"The lube is still in the top drawer, right?"

"With the condoms, yeah."

Kenma nods, but realizes that Kuroo can't actually see him. "Right." He sits up a little, running his fingers between Kuroo's bellybutton and the hem of his boxers. "Hey, Kuroo?"

"Hm?"

"Tell me what you want."

"I thought you were the boss tonight."

"I'm not going to do anything you don't want to do."

"Then why don't you touch my dick instead of making me shiver with antici....

A moment of quiet, and Kenma groaned, "Don't you dare."

"Kuroo."

"Seriously?"

"....pation."

With that, Kenma smacked him on the thigh, because who quotes that in the middle of sex, but he's surprised when Kuroo arches his body off the bed, the flush on his face back in full dark red.

"Hey," Kuroo's voice sounds strained, like he's trying to laugh but physically can't, "that hurt."

"Good." Kenma slapped him on the ass this time, knowing that Kuroo really did like that from the way his whole body shuddered and tightened, and then planted a kiss at the crook of his neck.

He kept kissing over Kuroo's collarbone, retracing the lines he made minutes ago with his hands, holding Kuroo's hips down hard against the mattress to keep him from rutting up against him. He could hear Kuroo panting for breath, feel it under his lips as they brushed over his abs, down to his hips, purposefully avoiding Kuroo's solid cock to start kissing the inside of his thighs.

"Kenma..." he whined, trying to move his hips, but Kenma wouldn't let him, holding him down flat to the bed. "Come on."

"Not yet." His whispered before sinking his teeth into soft muscle, swirling his tongue over the skin, sucking a hickey that would barely be hidden by volleyball shorts, before turning to the other thigh and leaving a matching bruise. Kuroo bit his lip, trying to muffle his moan.

"Please, Kenma, this isn't enough." Kuroo whined, trying to sit up, but again, Kenma held him down.

"I said not yet." but he couldn't lie - Kenma was starting to get a little impatient himself, his cock straining against his boxer briefs. He kissed his way back up Kuroo's thigh, his hip, before grabbing the hem of Kuroo's boxers between his teeth and tugging it down. He wanted to do it all the way with just his teeth, but at the end of the day he hand to cheat and use his hands. Still, it had the right effect.

"Oh my god, Kenma, did you just do that with your mouth? Oh my god, you have to do that when I can see you, fuck, I bet you look good."

Kenma frowned, and he mumbled to himself. "Next time I think I will tie it around your mouth instead."

Kuroo must've heard him though, because he whined, arching his full erection up, desperate for some kind of touch. "Whatever, just, let's do this time first, okay?"

"So what do you want me to do then?" Kenma cupped the base of Kuroo's cock, giving him a few slow pumps to keep him fully hard.

"What, seriously?" Kuroo was shivering, starting to sound desperate. Good. "You know what I want Kenma."

"I want you to tell me. Ask me nicely."

"Ask-- seriously?"

Kenma raised an eyebrow, looking over Kuroo, the way his whole body was betraying him with how much he wanted it.

"Yes." Kenma leaned over and pulled the lube out of the drawer, and uncapped it to leave a fat drop on the head of Kuroo's cock before Kenma slowly rubbed it down every inch of him.

"Come on," Kuroo whined, "Don't make me..."

Kuroo was a man who was almost always in control of everything in his life, even if others around him didn't fully realize it. For him to let go of it took a whole lot of trust, or at least an equal amount of trust and being really damn horny. So when Kenma said nothing for a moment, it made him squirm, and when he let go of his cock, Kuroo cried out in protest, trying to move toward Kenma, but his partner was already off the bed, the mattress sighing with the loss of weight. He breathed out, shaky, and insanely turned on. When did he become such a glutton for punishment? Kuroo strained his ears, hoping they could give him some answers where his eyes could not.

A zipper, rustling of clothing. A small snap of plastic and the...

...the start up nose for a 3DS? It was loud too, full volume probably, just to piss Kuroo off.

"Kenma, Kenma, dude, no, don't you dare, turn that off right now or so help me, I don't like this shirt enough for this."

"Ask me nicely then, for what you want." Kuroo thought he heard the faint noise of something slippery, but it was drowned out by Kenma starting up his copy of Mario Kart.

Kuroo whined, wondering why he was dragging himself through this pleasurable hell. "Please just... do me, Kenma."

"Oh?" Kenma said, still sounding nonchalant, even if he was more breathless than earlier. "Do you how?"

Getting his thoughts straight to answer was difficult when a pair of lube-slicked fingers were suddenly tracing a sticky line over his hip bone. "Just fuck me Kenma, hard, okay? Shit, when did you get so good at teasing!"

"I have a good teacher, I guess." Kenma's voice is quiet, but he closes the 3DS, thank god, and crawls back up onto the bed, and Kuroo can feel the heat of Kenma's body already, and suddenly Kenma grinds his lube-covered ass over Kuroo's bare cock, making him moan.

"Oh fuck, I take it back about the fucking, ride me, ride me until my hips break Kenma, please, please please."

Kenma doesn't say anything, but Kuroo can picture him smiling like he's beaten a really hard game, or won at the arcade, and he can hear the lube bottle popping open again, and the slick sound of Kenma working himself open, breathing heavily, and his solid cock rubbing against Kuroo's torso. He feels it, every little detail, his four senses on fire from the loss of one.

Kenma says nothing when he rubs his lubed asshole over the head of Kuroo's cock, even though Kuroo is already groaning and desperate, and sinks himself onto him steadily, slowly, at a pace that kills Kuroo but he knows he has to stay still, wait until Kenma has all six and a half inches of Kuroo buried inside of him.

Both of their breaths are shaking, shallow, Kenma's hands are pressed down on Kuroo's chest, but Kuroo certainly imagines he is worse for wear after all of the teasing. But Kenma takes a little bit longer than he expects, and Kuroo knows how to take a cue.

"Please, Kenma. Fuck me."

And that was it, those four words, because Kenma twists his hips up before thrusting them back down, and Kuroo shakes from head to toe, gasping for breath. He can feel Kenma's nails drag across his torso, hear the slick sounds of skin on skin, and every sharp breath between Kenma's teeth. Kuroo has no idea how he's going to make it through this without coming in an embarrassingly short amount of time, because he's fantasied about this, but having it come true was so, so much better.

With each thrust Kenma became more comfortable, each thrust getting faster, Kuroo moaning every time Kenma grinds his hips hard to punctuate a downward thrust, or how he cants his hips and certain angles until he hits that spot, the one that makes Kenma's whole body shake, and he keeps his body steady, just fucking himself over and over and harder and harder right there, and Kuroo was more than happy to push his hips up in time with those thrusts, just to feel the way Kenma's thighs quivered every time.

"Oh god, Kenma, Kenma, you're amazing, oh fuck, so good," Kuroo was breaking down, all coherent thought gone and everything out of his mouth was babbling. "I wish I could touch you, I want to feel every inch of you--"

"Say please"

Kuroo's eyes go wide and the raspy voice, and he doesn't even think twice. "Please, Kenma, Please."

And Kenma pulls himself up, off of Kuroo completely, making him gasp from the loss of heat and contact, but it was worth it to feel Kenma's deft hands pulling the restraints from his wrists. They felt a little chaffed, but Kuroo didn't give a shit. He reached out blindly for Kenma, hands crashing into his sides, feeling him up as Kenma pushed himself back down onto Kuroo's cock, making both of them groan. It was hot, heavy, and everything Kuroo wanted but right now all of that was taking backseat to Kuroo grabbing at his partner's cock, listening to the way it made him gasp, and pumping him in time with their matched thrusts.

Both of them were breathless in no time, and Kuroo was close, so close, it felt like every nerve in his body was about to short circuit, and Kenma, beautiful amazing Kenma, closed the distance between their bodies when he grabbed at his partner's face, pulling him in for a hard, open mouthed kiss. Their tongues were running together, and Kuroo was sure he had drool coming down his mouth, but he didn't give a shit, not now, not when Kenma had made a complete mess of him like this.

"I'm close, Kenma, Kenma, oh fu--" Kuroo moaned, loud enough that the kids in the dorm room next door probably heard him, because Kenma bit his lip and slammed his ass down onto his cock so hard that his vision went white behind the blindfold, coming harder than he had in a long, long while, still tugging at Kenma's cock until he felt the hot, sticky cum get all over his hand and stomach.

They collapsed onto the bed, panting for breath, uncaring for the horrible mess they made all over the bed spread.

Kenma must've recovered first, because the blindfold was tugged down before Kuroo was ready, and he blinked to get used to the sudden rush of yellow lamp light in his room.

"Holy shit that was--" Kuroo started with a cheeky smile, looking over, only to see Kenma for the fist time in what felt like ages, naked and fully flushed.

"That was amazing."

"Yeah..."

"You're amazing."

"Oh." Kuroo watched Kenma look away, embarrassed, and god, it was good to see him again.

op

(Anonymous) - 2014-11-11 01:40 (UTC) - Expand

writer anon

(Anonymous) - 2014-11-12 07:57 (UTC) - Expand

Re: anticipation (say please) [kuroken; tied up,blindfolded, begging]

(Anonymous) - 2015-10-17 10:55 (UTC) - Expand

FILL: Good (Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, light bondage, begging, blindfolds, orgasm denial)

(Anonymous) - 2015-12-31 10:39 (UTC) - Expand

trying them out, on a dare, whatever i don't care i just want this.

Kenma’s eyes travel from Kuroo’s expectant face to the jumble of items that she’d just dumped all over the bedspread. Kind of like a cat proudly bringing home dead mice, except in this instance the mice are a whole bunch of sex toys.

“Where did you get these?”

“Don’t worry about it,” says Kuroo, which is just about the least reassuring answer possible. “You wanna try ‘em out?”

Kenma gives them one more suspicious glance. There are six or so, ranging in size and shape from a small vibrator to a veiny silicone monster that she has no intention of going anywhere near.

“Only if I can do you first,” she decides.

“Sure,” says Kuroo, almost before Kenma even finishes talking. Fumbling out of her shirt and pants in record time, she sprawls out across the bed in nothing but her underwear.

“Which one?” Kenma asks. Kuroo probably won’t rest until all of them have been employed in one way or another, but she’s not really sure where to start.

“Surprise me,” says Kuroo, leering unhelpfully.

Kenma rolls her eyes and chooses a bright pink dildo at random. It looks a little too big for her tastes, but Kuroo just nods and spreads her legs wider, the lean muscles in her thighs flexing as she does. Kenma sets the toy aside for the moment and leans in to kiss her, slides her palm down Kuroo’s bare stomach and over her hip.

Kuroo starts moaning practically before Kenma even touches her, and she only gets louder when Kenma pushes the fabric of her panties out of the way. She’s laying it on especially thick today, and Kenma wonders if it’s because she’s excited to get fucked.

“Calm down,” says Kenma, and pinches the inside of her thigh. Now that they’ve gotten started, she kind of likes the idea of this, and she doesn’t want to get drawn into Kuroo’s ridiculous momentum and start rushing things.

Kuroo gives her an affronted look, but more or less does as she’s told. Soon she’s breathing weird and shifting restlessly like she does when she’s actually turned on, theatrics forgotten as Kenma bites her collarbone and works two fingers inside her.

She probably doesn’t need it, but Kenma still spends a little while fucking her like that because she likes the way it feels and the way Kuroo’s leg jerks when she brushes over a specific spot. Kenma curls her fingers one last time before she pulls them out, knuckles flexing while Kuroo twitches around her. Then she reaches for the toy, trying not to seem nervous as she tugs Kuroo’s panties all the way off.

Kuroo tips her head back against a pillow when Kenma starts easing the dildo inside, grabbing blindly for her wrist in an attempt to make her go faster. Kenma just swats her hand away, staring intently at Kuroo’s face as she huffs and squirms. She looks more flustered than usual, less in-control, and it’s good. It makes Kenma feel a little more confident in her ability to see this through.

Once the dildo is halfway inside Kuroo, stretching her open and looking generally obscene, Kenma starts pulling it back out.

“You’re enjoying this,” Kuroo accuses, lifting her head up from the pillow. She sounds more turned on than upset about it. Kenma shrugs and pushes it inside her again, slow but relentless, all the way to the base.

Admittedly, her heartbeat speeds up a little at the way Kuroo gasps and goes still. Kenma lets her adjust for a few seconds before she moves, starting up a rhythm that has Kuroo
rocking her hips down to meet every thrust. She can barely keep her eyes open and her breathing is fast and shuddery, but she’s smiling up at Kenma like she loves every second of it.

“Harder?” Kenma asks, pulling the toy almost all the way out at the same time that she starts rubbing circles over Kuroo’s swollen clit.

Kuroo doesn’t say anything back, just nods emphatically as her whole body trembles. She’s tense all over, mouth falling open on a whine as Kenma starts fucking her hard.

Not sure where to look but not wanting to miss anything, Kenma’s eyes flick back and forth between the vulnerable expression on Kuroo’s face and the dildo disappearing in and out of her. The color seems even more garish now that it’s slick and shiny with Kuroo’s fluids.

Kenma can see Kuroo start to come undone in the way her eyebrows draw together and her teeth sink into her lower lip. Instead of trying to pull the toy out, Kenma just rocks it further inside Kuroo with shallow little thrusts, working over her clit at the same time until she spasms hard around it and comes.

All the tension seems to melt out of Kuroo as she relaxes into the mattress with a sigh. Kenma admires the view for a few seconds and then crawls forward to kiss her.

“What next?” she asks once they break apart. Her eyes drift back over to the pile. She wouldn’t mind using a few more of those things on Kuroo, if they all yield such favorable results.

“You’re next,” says Kuroo. She sits up, slides her hands under Kenma’s shirt. “Remember?”

Kenma lifts her arms up so the shirt can come off, but she hesitates when Kuroo starts to unzip her shorts. She doesn’t hate the idea, and it probably shouldn’t even faze her at all since she’d just been doing it to Kuroo, but the thought makes her slightly nervous no matter how hard she tries to rationalize it.

Seeming to sense her discomfort, Kuroo tilts Kenma’s chin up with her fingers and kisses her gently. Kenma leans into the touch, sighing a little when she pulls back.

“We don’t have to,” Kuroo says. Somehow she manages to look sincere and understanding even with her hair sticking up every which way and her bra halfway off. “I’ll go down on you or something.”

“It’s fine. Just don’t use that huge one,” Kenma mumbles, taking her shorts off herself and letting them drop over the edge of the bed along with her underwear. They’d had an agreement, after all, and she’s honestly a little bit curious.

Kuroo’s face lights up, and after some rummaging she emerges with the tiny vibrator. It’s egg-shaped, with a wire coming out of it that attaches to a remote, and it makes a disproportionately loud buzzing noise when Kuroo turns it on. Kenma tries not to seem too alarmed, but Kuroo switches it back off anyway and braces her hand on the bed next to Kenma’s shoulder, bumping their noses together fondly.

Kuroo kisses her over and over, unhooks her bra with one hand and kisses her breasts too. Kenma knows she’s being purposely distracted, but Kuroo is very good at being distracting. Soon she gets a hand in between Kenma’s legs, the corner of her mouth lifting up when she feels how wet Kenma is already.

“I’m turning it on again, okay?”

Kuroo picks up the vibrator and presses it just to the side of Kenma’s clit. It feels weird, but Kenma nods, trying to brace herself. Then Kuroo flicks it on, and she realizes that no amount of bracing would have been sufficient.

She makes an embarrassing sound right away, shuddering violently as her face floods with heat. Kuroo hasn’t moved the vibrator yet, and it’s not even directly on her clit anyway, but neither of those things seem to affect the way her body responds.

“How’s it feel?” asks Kuroo, dragging the vibrator slowly to the right until it’s nudging up against Kenma’s clit. She sounds like she’s having a ball.

Kenma can’t even bring herself to glare. Instead she just inhales shakily, covering her mouth with her hand so that no more weird noises will come out. Her thighs keep trying to squeeze shut and she’s squirming so bad that Kuroo has to hold her still, vibrator buzzing over her clit at an agonizingly slow pace.

It feels like no time at all before Kenma starts getting close. She’s so warm and she can’t seem to catch her breath, heat burning across her cheeks and down her neck as a numb tingling sensation builds up inside her.

Just when she thinks she’s about to come, a drawn-out whimper escaping from between her fingers, Kuroo shifts the vibrator off to the side again. It’s probably meant to tease Kenma, to keep her on the edge for a little longer, but she’s so far gone that all it takes is the tiniest shift in position before she comes anyway.

“Nice,” says Kuroo appreciatively as Kenma trembles through her orgasm, nails digging hard into Kuroo’s back. She hasn’t turned the vibrator off yet—not touching Kenma’s clit with it directly, but dragging it across less sensitive areas while the aftershocks roll through her.

The feeling is on the borderline of overstimulation, but it’s still so good that Kenma can’t bring herself to push Kuroo’s hand away. Everything feels like too much and not enough all at once, and Kenma isn’t quite sure whether she’s going to come again or just start hyperventilating.

Kuroo reaches out to brush Kenma’s hair out of her face, gently tugging away the hand over her mouth and pressing their lips together as she grabs for the remote. The buzzing gets even louder and more intense, and Kenma practically sobs.

It only takes her a few more seconds to come for the second time, rolling her hips up shamelessly as Kuroo applies harsh, steady pressure to her clit. Afterwards she has to twist away from the sensation, her legs shaking like they do after a long run.

“Not so bad, huh?” asks Kuroo, switching off the vibrator and stretching out so that her front is to Kenma’s back. Her hands smooth through Kenma’s hair again, tucking it behind her ears so that her flushed cheeks start to cool off.

“Not bad,” Kenma agrees, once she remembers how to form words. She’s already thinking about how Kuroo would look with one toy shoved up inside her and another one pressed up against her clit. For now, though, they could probably use a break.

Re: FILL: "easy to please" (sexswapped kuroken, sex toys)

(Anonymous) - 2014-11-15 11:27 (UTC) - Expand

op

(Anonymous) - 2014-11-15 19:47 (UTC) - Expand

I'm trash

(couldn't even do this outside an au, hope that's okay haha...)

Hinata's wrists are raw and aching from a fruitless struggle with the manacles. He's given up on them for now, hanging limp with exhaustion against the cold stone wall, but the fierce glare of light has not yet left his eyes.

"You have such faith in him," the Demon King observes, with a flickering half-smile. His curiosity is flippant but his nails are razor-sharp against Hinata's throat, pressed like a laughably chaste kiss to the throb of his pulse--too light to break the skin but hard enough to cut him should he so much as twitch a muscle. When he leans in close his lips brush hot against the shell of Hinata's ear, perversely intimate. "I can't see why, to be honest."

Hinata scowls, but he can't lean away, so he snaps out his words like he could somehow wound with sounds alone. He can't. His sword lies on the ground mere paces away, a constant mocking reminder of his powerlessness. "Shut the hell up already. We are going to take you down."

Even now, Oikawa's laughter is too light, a sickly-sweet carillon that echoes through the shadowed hall until it's nothing but an awful, shapeless resonance in the pit of Hinata's stomach. "See!" he crows, rocking back on his heels to take in the full extent of Hinata's weakened, bruising body. His eyes are shining with an unmistakeable delight. "You keep saying 'we', like you're so sure he's coming for you!"

"He'll come," Hinata says, and he spits, but Oikawa dodges it easily enough. He drags his nail from Hinata's neck and up the line of his jaw, across his chin, until the soft pad of his finger is pressed to Hinata's bottom lip. Hinata's muscles are trembling, his hair stuck to his brow by a thin sheen of sweat.

"Did he ever tell you?" Oikawa wonders aloud, head cocked now to an exaggerated angle. His horns catch the torchlight and gleam like a brittle obsidian grin. "That Tobio, he used to serve me."

Hinata flinches, but Oikawa's finger is insistent, pushing between his lips to the wall of his teeth, so that Hinata can't answer without admitting it into his mouth. Oikawa only hums and says, "I thought not. He lead one of my armies back then, you see, only they turned against him, isn't that funny? Such a bad leader that even demons couldn't stand him. And yet--"

When Hinata tries to shout a protest, purely instinct, Oikawa's fingers slip in at the first opportunity: two of them pressing heavy on Hinata's tongue until he gags with it. Saliva drips over Oikawa's knuckles and spills down Hinata's chin, cooling rapidly in the chilly air until it's just a sticky residue on his face. Oikawa is snickering all the while, a susurrant and vile sound, like the soft hissing deaths of moths immolating in the firelight. Hinata starts to pull at the chains again but he doesn't dare bite down, not with the threat of laceration still implicit in Oikawa's leer of challenge. Oikawa presses down again, until Hinata's throat is spasming and hot tears are prickling in his eyes, but the pressure relents just moments before he vomits, and Oikawa finally pulls back, his posture wholly pleased.

"So this is a 'hero'," he says, slowly shaking his head. "Doesn't look like much to me."

Hinata musters the dregs of his energy and aims a kick to Oikawa's side, but Oikawa only catches his ankle and holds it, tight enough to hurt even through his breeches. The chains screech above while Hinata fails to twist away, and then Oikawa is pushing forward again with a very thoughtful hum, folding Hinata's knee up to his chest so that it's suddenly difficult for him to breathe under the pressure. His other palm slides over the back of Hinata's thigh until it's cupping his ass, and he can see the moment the realisation hits because all the blood drains from Hinata's face, and in that breathless, suspended moment he gives one slow, deliberate squeeze.

"S-stop, what are--don't," Hinata stutters wildly, thrashing at the vertex of humiliation and horror, and Oikawa makes a distasteful face but still there is a sound of tearing leather, sliced away, leaving Hinata's lower half newly exposed to the cold air and Oikawa's wandering hands.

"This is really too prosaic," Oikawa sighs, even as Hinata's body jerks away from the probing pads of his fingers, "but surely our dear Tobio wouldn't miss it for the world. Where is he now, do you think? Not yet summoned by the sheer power of your belief?"

Hinata is shrinking back where he can, but the struggle is draining from him fast, until he's just a writhing mess of limbs beneath the Demon King's manipulations. "It doesn't matter what you do to me," he manages, through his gritted teeth. His pulse is thready under his overheated skin, but he's glaring, somehow he's still glaring. "We're still gonna crush you."

"You know," and Oikawa's hands are spreading Hinata's legs now, his body is smothering Hinata's body, pushing him back to the wall, his face close enough the words are a gust of air against Hinata's slackening mouth. "--you heroes really piss me off."

That's all the warning Hinata's given before Oikawa's cock is pushing into him, and it's just too much, too sudden, Hinata's look of grim determination breaks all at once into one of shock and pain. The tears are spilling over, running freely down his red-stained cheeks, and Oikawa's moan is low and satisfied in his ear. For a long moment they are still, sweat-slick and panting in the near-darkness, Oikawa savouring the shudder that sweeps down Hinata's spine and Hinata struggling to keep silent. Then Oikawa pulls back just slightly in a very shallow thrust, but still Hinata chokes, a damp and ragged sob torn from somewhere deep inside his chest, and Oikawa's lips curl in a smile like dripping treacle.

"Does it hurt?" he says, curiously, but Hinata's biting down on his own lip so hard his mouth is a dark smear of blood. Oikawa makes a tutting sound and leans forward to lick at it, pressing his own smile against Hinata's straining grimace. "I could make it feel nice instead. Do you want it to feel nice?"

Hinata bares his teeth in a pinkish snarl, but his eyes are still wet and his whole body shakes with it. Oikawa's grip tightens on his thighs but he doesn't thrust again, not yet. Instead he says, "Have you done this before then? Has he gone this far with you yet? ...No?"

Hinata seems to rally some degree of detachment at the words and only stares resolutely forward, but his fingernails are still digging white crescents into his palms where they're bound above his head. Oikawa huffs out an amused breath against his cheek and just keeps talking, even while his cock is twitching deep inside Hinata. "If I make it feel good, you can pretend it's Tobio that's fucking you. I mean, since he won't actually. Wouldn't that be nice? I can be generous too."

The hitching noise that finally breaks free of Hinata's mouth is one of abject misery, but when Oikawa's mouth brushes at his ear again a nonsensical whisper slithers from his lips into Hinata's brain, an insidious and writhing thing that seems to spread through his entire body like a creeping disease, and within moments the tension is easing from Hinata's brow, replaced instead with a shiver of warm confusion, a flush of something like fever leaving him dazed by the leap of his own pulse beneath Oikawa's hands.

Only then does Oikawa move, in tandem with a guilty moan that rings out into the silent hall and echoes all around them. Hinata legs are wrapping around Oikawa's waist and Oikawa is fucking into him with a languid rhythm, lapping again at his mouth for the last beaded drops of blood and the salt of sweat in the dip below his nose. Hinata's stare is glazed, his tongue sluggishly pliant between them, and when he moans again, a helpless, wanton sound in the humid air they share, finally Oikawa reaches down to palm Hinata's cock where it's suddenly hard and leaking, throbbing in his grip.

"Good," Oikawa whispers, stroking him once and nodding when his eyes flutter shut from the sensation. "You look much better like this. I wonder what our dear Tobio would say if he could see you now," and he punctuates each word with another stroke, until Hinata is whimpering, weakly thrusting his hips up into Oikawa's fist and falling back onto his cock when his muscles give. Oikawa laughs, saccharine as ever, but Hinata tries to swallow the sound, tongue colliding with Oikawa's tongue and a desperate, keening noise.

Oikawa pulls away from the kiss and nips at Hinata's swollen lips like a playful lover might. "Just like that," he murmurs, "yes. All spread out for me and crying like a needy little slut."

Hinata's eyes look wild and lost, but his body's jerking urgently, chasing after Oikawa's heat, so Oikawa gives it to him, pitching forward into a mounting, frantic pace. Hinata's ankles lock around his waist but his body's small enough Oikawa bears the weight with ease, and for a long time the only sound is the rattling of the chains, their grunts of effort, the Demon King's cloak flapping at his thighs while he fucks Hinata to a shuddering, aching peak. And then he leaves him there, panting and straining uselessly toward Oikawa's hand while Oikawa waits with coyly lowered lashes for Hinata to ask nicely.

"Well well," he says, against Hinata's jaw, and suddenly his voice drops low, gruff and clipped and terribly familiar. "What is it? What the hell do you want?"

Hinata's eyes squeeze shut, moisture spilling from their corners, but his red mouth shapes a strangled groan, and then he rasps out: "please--"

"Speak up, dumbass," Oikawa whispers, punctuating it with a single jerk of his hips, and Hinata can't form the word again but cries out all the same, a broken, meaningless noise as he comes all over Oikawa's hand.

Later, when he's limp against the wall and his vision's still a warmly swimming blur, Oikawa draws a fingertip across his bound wrists where they've begun to bleed from friction, and shakes his head again, lips a shiny moue. "You should be more careful, Hero-chan. We don't want Tobio to think I don't know how to treat a guest. That is, if he's coming."

Hinata's brow pinches into the faintest frown, and his mouth falls open, but he can't say anything at all.

Oikawa only shrugs, turning on his heel and marching back toward his towering stone throne. "He is rather late. So rude."

Re: FILL: "status effect (charm)" (oikawa/hinata, fhq-verse, NON-CON)

(Anonymous) - 2014-11-08 07:15 (UTC) - Expand

Re: FILL: "status effect (charm)" (oikawa/hinata, fhq-verse, NON-CON)

(Anonymous) - 2015-01-08 07:38 (UTC) - Expand

or a storage room, or some other small tucked away space. basically the three say they're going to do some "captain duties" during camp but really they're having a hardcore threeway

basically daichi and suga getting tanaka to call them daddy, with tanaka getting embarrassed and lots of dirty talk. bonus for suga telling tanaka hes a good boy.

“I don’t know,” says Tanaka. It’s hard to sound skeptical with Suga’s chin resting on his shoulder and warm hands pushing up under his shirt, but he does his best.

“Just try it,” says Daichi, from a few feet away on the bed. He looks amused, like Tanaka is refusing to eat his vegetables instead of hesitating to become even more of a sexual deviant than he is already.

Suga reaches up to scruff a hand over Tanaka’s buzzcut, kissing his ear and his cheek and the corner of his mouth. It’s a dirty trick, but Suga specializes in those. Tanaka can feel himself inching toward defeat.

“It’s just--it’s not that cool!” he says in a rush, face heating up. “Saying something like that--”

“I’m sorry,” says Suga. He definitely isn’t. “Something like what?”

Tanaka makes a frustrated noise, and Suga’s hand wanders down toward the front of his shorts, lazily palming at Tanaka’s dick like they have all the time in the world. They don’t, and that’s what gets Tanaka to finally say it.

“Daddy,” he mutters, glancing off to the side and scowling.

Suga actually laughs, pressing his face into Tanaka’s shoulder to muffle the sound. Tanaka’s ears feel hot. This is a terrible idea.

“Oi!”

“Sorry,” Suga repeats, more contritely this time. He drags the heel of his hand down over Tanaka’s dick, curling a hand around him through the fabric and tugging roughly. “You sound good.”

Suga is probably lying, but his voice sounds so warm and approving that Tanaka is willing to let it go. After a few more seconds, he takes his hand away, kissing Tanaka’s cheek one last time and then shoving him gently toward Daichi on the bed.

For maybe the first time ever, Daichi relieves Tanaka of his shirt before he can take it off himself. Once the shirt is gone, Daichi curls a hand around the back of Tanaka’s neck and hauls him in for a kiss, tongue swiping across the slick inside of Tanaka’s lower lip.

It’s a tight fit, but Suga climbs up onto the bed along with them. Daichi backs off, and the two of them maneuver Tanaka up against the headboard and push his legs apart.

“How do you want it?” asks Suga, once Tanaka is positioned to their liking. He tugs Tanaka’s shorts down far enough to get his cock out and wraps one hand loosely around the base. “Want me to suck you off?”

Tanaka will never get over how conversationally he’s able to say these things.

“Yes,” he replies, even though he knows it won’t be enough. Suga’s expectant look confirms his suspicions. “Daddy,” he adds, testing out the word in his mouth, trying not to sound as embarrassed about it as before.

“Good,” says Suga, and Tanaka feels it all the way down to his toes.

He strokes Tanaka’s dick a few times and bends forward to lick right up underneath the head, holding his hips down when they try to jerk upward. Daichi stops rummaging around in the bedside drawer for a second to watch them, reaching a hand out to ruffle Suga’s hair.

Suga hooks his arm underneath Tanaka’s thigh to hold him still better and keeps licking, presses his lips against the base and drags his tongue all the way up. Then his hot wet mouth is sinking down onto Tanaka’s dick, sucking him in, and there’s a hand on his balls and he’s going to die. Come and then die.

“Fuck,” Tanaka says as Suga pushes his tongue up against the slit. He looks completely focused on what he’s doing when Tanaka can get his eyes open far enough to watch him, eyes lowered and jaw stretched wide, excess spit smeared down his chin.

The bed shifts as Daichi shuts the bedside drawer and crawls closer, putting the lube aside for a second in favor of getting his hand in Suga’s hair again. This time he threads his fingers tightly through it and pushes Suga’s head further down, until he’s inhaling harsh little breaths through his nose and his throat is contracting desperately.

It feels so good Tanaka could pass out, but he’s a little bit worried that he’s going to come like this and accidentally choke Suga to death or something. Before that can happen, Daichi lets him back up, knuckles bumping fondly against Suga’s flushed cheek as he catches his breath.

Suga grins at him and shifts over, making room for Daichi to take his place. He gets right back to it in his new position, fitting his mouth over the head and licking up the precum drooling out as Daichi carefully spreads Tanaka open and presses two slicked-up fingers against his asshole.

Tanaka throws a forearm over his eyes, trying not to squirm too much or think too hard about the heat of Suga’s tongue or Daichi’s fingers circling around him.

Finally, Daichi presses one all the way inside, and Tanaka lets out a noise from between clenched teeth.

“Like that?” Daichi asks. With his free hand, he reaches forward to tug Tanaka’s arm away from his face.

Tanaka tries to glare, but he forgets about that when Daichi adds another finger and starts fucking him in fluid, continuous motions, thumb rubbing against the side of Tanaka’s balls every time he pushes in.

“How should I do it?” Daichi asks, once Tanaka starts moaning in earnest. He keeps his fingers buried inside but stills their movement, nudging at Suga until he glances up and lets Tanaka’s dick slip out of his mouth. It looks so shiny and pink and inviting that Tanaka’s hips give a final, pitiful jerk up towards it.

“On his back, like this,” says Suga. He rubs a palm across Tanaka’s abs, right above where his cock lies flushed and stiff against his stomach. “Wanna watch him leak all over himself while you fuck him.”

His tone is the same as when he talks strategy during practice, and Tanaka doesn’t know why that’s so fucking hot but it is and he’s going to die.

“Sound good?” Daichi asks, shifting his gaze to Tanaka.

“Yeah,” he replies, but it comes out as more of a gasp than a word, so he nods fast and hard to make sure there’s no confusion.

Daichi gets more lube on his cock, holding Tanaka’s thighs open with his hands as he starts pushing himself inside. He’s way thicker than the fingers had been, and the stretch is kind of intense even though he moves achingly slow. Tanaka reaches down to wrap a hand around himself, but Suga smacks it away before he can get anywhere near.

He’d expected as much, but the frustration is still enough to make his eyes sting.

“Suga,” he says plaintively. “Let me--”

“But you’re doing so well,” Suga says, voice soft. “Taking him all the way in like that, you’re such a good boy.”

Tanaka inhales sharply and clenches his hands up into fists to keep from touching, body tensing around Daichi until he forces himself to relax again. Suga lets out a breathless laugh and squeezes himself through his boxers, already tented at the front.

“Good boy,” he repeats as Tanaka reaches out. He pushes his boxers down his legs and guides Tanaka’s hand to wrap around him.

Daichi starts pulling back out for the first thrust, still way too slow, and Tanaka groans. He’s probably giving Suga the world’s shittiest handjob but he doesn’t have it in him to do better, not when he’s been so close for so long.

“Harder,” he pleads, barely paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth. “Daddy, harder--”

Daichi’s fingers bite into Tanaka’s thighs hard enough to bruise as he holds him open, hips snapping forward with enough force to make Tanaka swear and arch up off the bed. The hand on Suga’s dick is pretty much useless by now, rhythm sloppy and stuttering. Suga gently pushes it away and starts jerking himself off instead.

“C’mon,” he urges, breath coming fast and shaky as he watches Daichi’s cock disappear in and out of Tanaka. “Say it again for me.”

“Daddy,” says Tanaka, voice cracking as Daichi shoves in again and finally, finally, wraps a hand around his dick. “Daddy, please, daddy--”

He’s not entirely sure whether he’s talking to Daichi or Suga or both of them at once, but it only takes one more deep thrust for him to come all over Daichi’s hand with an embarrassingly needy sound.

Daichi pulls out once Tanaka goes all loose and pliant, finishing himself off with a few tight strokes and aiming for Tanaka’s flushed chest, still rising and falling quickly.

Afterwards, Daichi and Tanaka both look at Suga. He’s biting his lip hard, expression almost pained as he works over himself until Daichi shuffles over Tanaka’s prone body to finish him off. Tanaka angles his face up toward them, sticking his tongue out and closing his eyes because he knows Suga likes doing this. Honestly, he likes it too.

Suga makes this cute gasping noise when he comes, keeping his eyes open so he can watch it land in Tanaka’s mouth and stripe across his cheek. Tanaka licks up what he can and lets Suga drag his thumb through the remaining mess, even though he’s going to need a towel very soon.

“So good,” says Suga, voice warm and affectionate. Daichi hums in agreement, and Tanaka feels a wave of contentment wash over him.

Re: FILL: "make you say my name" (daichi/suga/tanaka, daddy kink)

(Anonymous) - 2014-11-27 02:34 (UTC) - Expand

Matsukawa accidentally sees Iwaizumi and Oikawa doing the do in the club room. He decides to join because Oikawa is hot and tempting, and why not.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 2 of 15

Asahi/Noya/Tanaka asexuality/poly

FILL: Screamer (AsaTaNoya, Poly/Asexuality) (no warnings)

Hinata/Kageyama, Kag likes aggressive Hinata

tsukkiyama, snowballing

Re: tsukkiyama, snowballing

Daisuga, Grinding against the bed/being pushed into the mattress

Push and Pull (daisuga, pushing/grinding into the mattress)

kageyama/hinata emetophilia

FILL: kageyama/hinata emetophilia

tsukishima/yamaguchi watersports

Tsukishima/Yamaguchi or Akiteru, force feeding

FILL: "Cake" (Yamaguchi/Tsukishima Kei/Tsukishima Akiteru, force-feeding) (Incest, Emetophilia) 1/3

Kindaichi/Kageyama; hate!sex

Oikawa/Hinata/Kageyama; competition

HinaKen, hair/ponytail kink

yamaguchi/tsukishima, seven minutes in heaven

just say "no" to parties | tsukishima/yamaguchi

daichi/suga, rule 63, cunnilingus

australian kisses (daichi/suga, rule63&cunnilingus)

yachi/kiyoko, literally any nsfw......

FILL: "some head in a comfortable bed" (kiyoko/yachi)

[Gen] Tsukishima and Tanaka, bonding because of siblings dating

fem! Asahi/Nishinoya, cute/loving first time sex (no warnings)

oikawa/kageyama, prostitution, dubcon

oikage, prostitution, possibly dubcon?

FILL: "service ace" (oikage, dubcon)

KuroKenHina

oikawa/iwaizumi, praise kink

FILL: what you need to hear (Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, praise kink)

kuroken; begging, blindfolds, orgasm denial

anticipation (say please) [kuroken; tied up,blindfolded, begging]

sexswapped!kuroken, sextoys

FILL: "easy to please" (sexswapped kuroken, sex toys)

OiHina- NonCon

FILL: "status effect (charm)" (oikawa/hinata, fhq-verse, NON-CON)

daichi/kuroo/bokuto, fucking in a closet

daichi/suga/tanaka, daddy kink

FILL: "make you say my name" (daichi/suga/tanaka, daddy kink)

iwaizumi/oikawa/matsukawa, double penetration