drowning in feels

Oikawa offers him another beer. Tetsurou’s only had two, but Kenma hasn’t had anything to drink at all - despite how he looks, he’s no lightweight - and he has no doubt Kenma’s staying sober for a reason. 

He accepts the beer anyway, but he barely takes a sip when there’s a firm, almost painful grasp on his forearm. Tetsurou’s stomach drops, not at all in a bad way, as Kenma pulls the bottle from his hand.

“I don’t think you need another one today,” he says, and heads back to where Hinata is standing, head cocked in confusion. Tetsurou swallows at the way the tail of the “sexy cat costume” he’d bought as a joke swishes as Kenma walks away.

Tetsurou knows he’s something of a masochist, but he’d take a spanking any day over this. 

“Lets just go,” he chokes out a few minutes later when everyone starts clearing the middle of the room to make way for the pong table.

“Are you sure?” Kenma asks, the shadow of a smile at the corner of his lips, “You know you’re getting punished for dragging me out here.”

Thank you anon!!

Another muffled moan came from the other bed, and Keiji squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will his erection away. Kuroo and Kenma had been at it for at least half an hour. Keiji knew that he might have deserved this a little bit after he and Bokuto had gone at it the night before while Kuroo and Kenma had been asleep (or not, apparently,) right beside them, but at least they’d gone about it quickly.

Kenma mewled, and it wasn’t even muffled into the sheets this time, echoing loudly in the room, followed by a soft grunt that could have only been Kuroo. Keiji could almost see it; Kenma flushed with Kuroo’s cock deep inside him, his face screwed up in pleasure, Kuroo biting his lip to keep himself from making noise. Just imagining it sent pure arousal rushing down Keiji’s spine, and it took all of his willpower to not rut mindlessly into the sheets.

“Keiji?” Bokuto whispered into his ear, and Keiji jumped, his breath hitching.

“Bokuto-san,” he said, “how long have you been awake?”

“The whole time.” Bokuto was quiet for a moment, and then Keiji felt something hard press into his ass.

“Do you wanna?” he asked, and Keiji had to swallow a groan at the rumble in his voice.

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji said, heart throbbing in his chest. “We can’t, it’s improper-”

“I don’t think they care.” Keiji felt his resistance melt away as Bokuto reached around to pull him out of his boxers. 

Keiji felt embarrassment creep up on him as the afterglow faded away. He could only hope the surrounding rooms were empty, because the hotel’s walls weren’t exactly soundproof, and the four of them had not been quiet. He buried his face into Bokuto’s chest, trying to will himself into unconsciousness, because he didn’t know how he could look Kuroo or Kenma in the eye after this.

“Dude,” Kuroo said, sounding like he’d just had the greatest idea of his life. Bokuto perked up against him.

“Bro, yes.”

Keiji could only groan, and he heard Kenma make a similar sound from the other bed. There was only one revelation Bokuto and Kuroo could have after listening to each other have very vocal sex with their boyfriends. He also found that he wasn’t against the idea of seeing Kuroo and Kenma as well as hearing them. He was even less against the idea of being an active participant.

Keith woke with a gasp. Sweat beaded at his brow, damp shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin as he sucked in deep, desperate breaths.

He couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him as the images of his dream played back in his head; a fight on a Galra ship, Zarkon welcoming him as one of their kind, and Lance on the ground in a growing pool of blood, eyes blank and unseeing.

A quick glance at the makeshift clock on his nightstand told him it was just late afternoon; he’d only woken from a nap. He stood on shaky legs, changing out of his damp shirt before leaving his room.

He planned to go to the training room to spar and shake off his dream, but something brought him inexplicably to a distant, rarely-used corner of the castleship instead. Lance stood at by the edge of the observation deck, staring out into the distance with his arms crossed tightly under his chest. The sight of him brought Keith’s earlier panic crashing back onto him, making him stumble his steps as he approached.

“Lance?” he said softly, his eyes wide, half-afraid that Lance would disappear if he blinked, or worse; that he would turn and look at Keith with the same horrifically dead eyes that he’d had in Keith’s dream. Lance turned, and Keith took in his downcast expression with a vague sense of relief.

“Oh. Hey Keith,” Lance said, lips quirking up in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes before he frowned. “Are you okay, buddy? You look kind of pale.”

Keith moved before he realised it, not registering he’d placed his hand on Lance’s arm until he’d done it. They stood frozen, staring at each other with wide eyes before Lance bit his lip and reached out to pull Keith into a hug. 

Keith breathed, took in Lance’s scent, the way his arms shook as they wrapped around him, and let his presence ground him until he felt like himself again.

“Don’t you die on me,” he murmured into Lance’s shoulder once both of them had calmed, their breathing even and arms relaxed around each other.

It’s after a particularly bad argument that Lance and Keith find themselves locked in one of the castleship’s closets, Pidge having forced them in so they can “work out their differences.”

“I don’t know how locking us in a closet is supposed to make us stop hating each other,” Lance says after the closet door slides shut. “This would just make beating each other up so much easier.”

Keith snorts, letting his head fall to rest on Lance’s shoulder. “I think Pidge was just sick of dealing with the noise and doesn’t actually care if we injure each other or not.” 

Lance laughs, twining their fingers together where their hands rest between them. “You know I don’t actually think your hair looks stupid, right?” He says. Keith rolls his eyes.

"What a surprise. And here I thought you hated my guts," he says flatly. Lance smiles, shoving Keith a little with his shoulder as the atmosphere settles into a comfortable silence. They sit in there for a while, enjoying each other's presence, before Lance gets bored.

“Why don’t we give Pidge something to worry about?” he says, meeting Keith’s eyes with a sly grin as he trails his fingers up Keith’s arm.

The doors open a few minutes later, with a frantic-looking Hunk and an even angrier Pidge on the other side. Their mouths fall open, though, when they see the state Lance and Keith are in; instead of bruised and at each other’s throats, which they assumed from all the groaning, the two of them were flushed, their hair mussed, and - well - quite literally at each other’s throats.

“You know we’ve been dating like three weeks now,” Lance says smugly on the way out, pulling his shirt back down over his chest.

How can you say you are sorry! Thanks for taking the prompt and write for this two, I loved it!! (yes, it is I under the gray and shades)

It was quiet.

Hunk and Pidge had both left to explore other parts of the planet some time ago. It was just Keith and Lance now, lying on the grey sand of an alien beach, a sea of strange blue goop stretched out in front of them instead of clear water.

“This sucks,” Lance piped up after a while. Keith looked at him; he’d thought Lance had been asleep.

“What does?” Keith asked, looking back to the sea. They’d had an uneventful day, sure, but it hadn’t been particularly terrible.

“This,” Lance said, gesturing at the air, frustration thick in his voice. “It’s weird. It kinda reminds you of home, you know? But it’s off. I don’t even wanna touch this blue slime stuff. It just makes me miss the actual ocean.”

Home. The word used to ring empty in Keith’s head. It didn’t, anymore. His team was his family now, and home was wherever they were. He didn’t have the same sentimental attachment to Earth that Lance did; he wanted to save it, sure, because he liked Earth as a planet and it was full of people, but he’d never longed for it the way Lance did now.

“I wouldn’t know,” Keith said. “I’ve never lived near the ocean before.”

“But you’ve been to beaches, right?” 

“A few times. Never just for the hell of it.” Keith shrugged. “I’ve flown over a lot of them, though.”

Lance squawked as if Keith had punched him in the stomach, sitting up with an affronted look on his face.

“What? Nonononono. That’s not cool man. I’ll have to take you when we get back.” 

“Take me where?” Keith asked. A beach, his mind supplied, but he liked the way the sad set of Lance’s face morphed into excitement when he asked.

“Home, I’ll show you what the ocean is supposed to look like. The water goes so far out that you can’t tell where it ends and the sky begins, and when it’s a clear day there’s just this huge expanse of blue in front of you.” Lance paused, and Keith saw him send him a look from the corner of his eyes. “If you don’t mind dealing with my crazy family, that is.”

Keith thought of Lance’s huge family, of being surrounded by people who exuded the same warmth and gave easy smiles, and something painful twisted in his gut; almost like longing.

“I’d like that,” he murmured. Lance let out a relieved huff beside him, and when Keith turned his head to look at him, he was grinning.

When Lance stood some time later, muttering about dinner, he offered Keith a hand up. He didn’t let go as soon he could have after Keith reached out and let Lance pull him upright, and he gave Keith’s hand a firm squeeze before he did. 

YAAAAAAS BITCH YAAAAAAAAAASSSSS!!!! BAKED THAT FUCKCAKE REAL GOOD MHM

strawberry fuckcake im in fucking tears pls

Kei is sprawled across Tadashi’s lap, blindfolded, his wrists bound in front of him. He feels strangely off-centre, like it’s possible for him to fall over despite the fact that he’s supporting exactly none of his own weight. Tadashi’s hands stroke lightly over his skin; his lower back, his ass, the tops of his thighs, and every touch has what feels like static running over Kei’s skin.

The first slap isn’t hard; just a firm but light blow on his ass, but it has a Kei gasping anyway, biting his bottom lip as his mind zeroes in on the sting it leaves behind. Tadashi slaps him again, each one harder than the last, until Kei is groaning, only half-aware that he’s lifting his hips to meet every blow.

“Tsukki,” Tadashi says, voice rough, as his hand comes down against Kei’s ass. “You’re so gorgeous like this.”

The praise sends a shock of arousal up Kei’s spine, and he bucks, his cock already hard and leaking against Tadashi’s thigh. Kei feels fingers press against his lips and he moans as he opens his mouth and lets Tadashi push them in, his lips and tongue exploring the long, slender lines of Tadashi’s fingers. Kei pulls his head back, letting them leave his mouth before he tilts his head, tongue coming out to lick one a finger the base to its tip, making Tadashi suck a breath in through his teeth.

“I wish you could see how good you look,” Tadashi says, and Kei mewls around the fingers in his mouth.

Tadashi’s other hand leaves Kei’s ass and Kei almost protests until it returns, fingers slicked to slip between his cheeks and rub at his hole. Kei whimpers when Tadashi slips a finger into him, stretching him out just enough so he can take another, before Tadashi starts finger-fucking him in earnest, going right for his prostate. 

Kei is a wreck, moaning non-stop and already close to the edge from the spanking he received. Tadashi pulls his other hand from Kei’s mouth and Kei sobs when Tadashi delivers a final smack onto his throbbing ass before he wraps his hand around Kei’s cock. It’s only a few strokes until Kei’s coming, his orgasm strong and drawn-out, spattering Tadashi’s thighs with come.

Lance is breathless, biting his lip to keep from crying out as Keith sinks down on his cock. He’s shaking with the effort of keeping himself still, but Keith’s eyes are still intense on his, as if daring him to move. Lance can feel his control slipping, though, because even tinged with the bitterness of suppressants Keith’s scent is heavy in the room, urging Lance to fuck into his hole, to knot him and fill him with his seed.

“Look at you,” Keith says, the words forced out between breaths as he bounces on Lance’s cock. “You want to move, don’t you? You can’t help it.”

Something in Lance surges at the taunt, an urge to bite and mark and just wreck Keith until he can’t say anything else. Lance tamps it down, gritting his teeth as he struggles with the need rut into Keith’s hole because he’s not losing against this asshole goddamnit, but then Keith leans down and whispers into his ear.

“Do it, c’mon Lance, move.”

Lance is gone. He grunts, pressing his feet flat to the bed so he can drive his hips up into Keith’s hole. Keith keens, slick weeping from his hole as Lance pounds into him. He comes with a yell, splattering his stomach, but Lance isn’t done, flips them over so he can fuck Keith into the mattress from behind. 

By the time Lance’s knot swells Keith is boneless under him, his slick running down his thighs and a puddle of come under his still-hard cock. Lance chokes out a breath when he starts coming and Keith seizes with another, final orgasm, his hole squeezing deliciously tight around Lance’s knot. 

Lance falls forward onto Keith when he’s done, and Keith grunts under him, hand reaching out to swat at the air. 

“Move, you ass, you’re heavy,” Keith says, pushing back against Lance’s weight. Lance chuckles, rolling off of Keith, hands holding Keith against his body so they both end up on their sides, Keith still plugged up with Lance’s knot.