Reborn! Anon Kink Meme!
The Katekyou Hitman Reborn! Kink Meme 3!
The meme is now closed to requests. Please visit Kink Meme Four to post any prompts you think of. This meme is still open for commenting and filling requests.
You can find the list of unfilled prompts from the second kink meme here: Part 1/ Part 2. A list of filled requests from that meme is here if you want ( Read more... )
The meme is now closed to requests. Please visit Kink Meme Four to post any prompts you think of. This meme is still open for commenting and filling requests.
You can find the list of unfilled prompts from the second kink meme here: Part 1/ Part 2. A list of filled requests from that meme is here if you want ( Read more... )
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Their first time, Gokudera is nineteen and aggressively uncertain and prickly in that sharp-edged way he only gets when he thinks he’s screwing up and is trying way too hard to make sure no one else notices that he’s scared. Yamamoto laughs, whispers muffled encouragement only a little slurred by the alcohol, teases patient kisses out of Gokudera until Gokudera shoves him back on the bed with a growl and pins his wrists over his head.
“Just... shut the fuck up, okay?” He chases the demand with a rough kiss, more bite than anything, and Yamamoto groans into it in wordless acknowledgment. If shutting up is what it takes, he can manage that. Probably. As long as Gokudera doesn’t stop. Which he’s showing no signs of doing, nipping at Yamamoto’s lips until he finally opens his mouth, tongues meeting in a clash that might be challenging if Yamamoto wasn’t putty under Gokudera’s hands by now. He’s not the one who seems tense enough to bolt at any moment, half guilty and half eager and half hard against Yamamoto’s thigh--Yamamoto has enough wits left to wonder muzzily when that happened, but he’s kind of pleased anyway, trying to rock up against the warm body pinning him down until Gokudera snarls again and lets go of his wrist to slam one palm hard against his shoulder. But he figures that’s pretty okay too, if it makes Gokudera happier.
Plus, it’ll make for great leverage tomorrow. ”Haha, what? It was prettymuch your idea, Gokudera, what’re you so mad about?” Because Gokudera’ll be mad for sure, he knows that already. He can see it in the fierce determination of his narrowed eyes, the way he presses his lips into a thin focused line as he breaks the kiss to jerk impatiently at Yamamoto’s belt, fumbling it open just enough to pull pants and boxers together down Yamamoto’s hips in a tangled mess. Yamamoto squirms enough to try to get them the rest of the way off, at least until Gokudera’s fingers close with strangely intent clarity around his cock and start to stroke. Then all he’s doing is collapsing back against the mattress and moaning again in distraction, wondering whether it’s the alcohol-flavored haze or just Gokudera’s uncomfortably nimble fingers that numbs his brain quite like that. Somewhere near his ear, Gokudera’s still hissing “shut up, shut the fuck up” like a mantra, like he’s not even aware of it anymore, and even that’s okay since Gokudera doesn’t really seem to care when he moans a little and jerks his hips up into the stroking, seeking more friction.
“Fuck, you want this, don’t you?” Gokudera breathes, beyond drunk, enough for his walls to slip a little and a hint of something like genuine bafflement to creep into his tone. Yamamoto, choosing the most inopportune possible moment to take Gokudera’s instructions to heart, only smiles enigmatically. It makes Gokudera curse him again, liltingly and in two languages. Even that’s nice. He likes the way they twine together on his tongue, like sharp-sweet promises edged with violence and dangerous affection, the only kind Gokudera allows. He’s okay with that; he’s learned years past that he’s more than tough enough to take it, to take almost anything Gokudera can deal out in the name of defending his pride.
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There’s a long tense moment, mutual acknowledged uncertainty (hey, does it go like this, you sure you know what we’re doing?) before Gokudera stiffens his shoulders and curls his lip, all cool confidence and unflustered calm. Never mind that he’s flushed with more than just the alcohol, that he’s hard and panting and fierce and kind of hot like that, arched over Yamamoto looking proud and a little scared at the same time. He has the in-control mask on, so Yamamoto humors him and tips his head back to breathe out a low moan as Gokudera’s slender fingers press into him. For just a moment, he tenses, trying to writhe backwards though the unyielding matress offers no escape. Even through the drunkenness softening out the corners and making everything pleasantly warm and welcoming, it hurts, and he almost tells Gokudera so. It’s the veiled vulnerability in Gokudera’s expression that makes him swallow it and close his eyes. Lots of things have hurt before, and it’s not like a broken arm or a rock shard to the eye or even a blade against his skin. So after a few seconds he relaxes, winding his arms around Gokudera’s shoulders and rocking his hips up into it uncertainly, letting the foreignness fade into the awareness of how close they are and how Gokudera’s watching him with that defensively awkward expression.
“C’mon, c’mon, ‘s okay.”
“Told you to shut the hell up,” Gokudera complains again in a way that sounds more like relief than anything. He bares his teeth, nips Yamamoto’s throat in warning, moves his fingers with gradually building confidence that makes Yamamoto start to groan again and move in time with him. Gokudera bites harder, enough to leave a mark, and that just makes him writhe more. “‘N stop fucking hugging me.”
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And okay, that hurts again, but it’s only for a few seconds until Gokudera’s fingers scrabble over his hip, his abdomen, find their way to his cock as Gokudera gasps in harsh pants against his shoulder and drives faster and harder into him. Then it’s okay, because Gokudera’s always had these amazing nimble fingers and he’s never put them to better use than he is right now, and Yamamoto’s just ignoring how Gokudera’s breathlessly telling him to just seriously, shut the fuck up between rough panting thrusts and moaning Gokudera’s name like a charm. It’s still on his lips when climax catches him almost by surprise and he comes hard on his sheets, wondering drunkenly if there’s any conceivable way he can wash these before his dad sees them--and then he feels Gokudera coming inside him and he’s really not thinking much of anything else at all.
It’s a few minutes before either of them really moves, Gokudera slumping bonelessly beside him and Yamamoto sprawling in self-satisfied languor, nevermind the sticky sheets. A few more minutes still before he decides that Gokudera’s orders have well and truly expired and he whispers a little hoarsely at him in the dark.
“Hey. Next time let’s try it facing each other, okay?”
Gokudera’s reply is luckily muffled by the way he’s burrowed his face in the pillow, but includes some pretty colorful Italian Yamamoto’s sure he hasn’t heard before. The tired punch in the vague direction of his shoulder transcends language.
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Prompter!anon loves you for giving such an old prompt a chance.
Because Gokudera’s the one who cares about things like pride, and looking tough, and not lowering himself to moan and suck on some guy’s fingers like maybe what he’d really want is his dick in his mouth instead
THIS. Just this. You have just summed up exactly why I love 5980, you mind reader. *falls to knees and worships you*
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But seriously, writeranon is super happy that it worked for you. ♥
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Anon would like to see 5980 doing it facing each other!!!
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