#he's always worried about pep when he does something to himself or gets into another fight with Noise for example

[nomlioart]

i was supposed to do it earlier but i was really lazy lol, but here you go

my pepstavo hcs in a nutshell

a lil more in the tags 👁️ 

[wavypotatochips]

and for the mbappe recognition, can I request kylian's brother ethan feeling upset bc of how media pressures him to be like his older brother but he doesn't want to worry his family so he keeps it a secret, for some reason he feels like he can open up to kylian's gf and she gives him a pep talk saying he's gonna make his own legacy and accidentally kylian overhears it and feels so happy his little brother trusts her and how nice she is to him that he falls in love with her even more. u can give it ur own spin, this is just an idea, thank u in advance 💓

𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐛𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Kylian Mbappe x Female Reader

Word Count : 1.5k

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: SLAAAAAY MORE MBAPPE RECOGNITION!!! Of course I don't mind writing about anyone, but more Neymar and Mbappe please c; teehee Thank you so much for requesting!! I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN, currently covered in college work so as of now uploads will mainly be on weekends. Thank you for your patience c’: ♥

Kylian asked you earlier in the day if you would mind picking up his younger brother from futebal practice because he wouldn't be able to, and of course you didn't mind. When it was time to pick him up from futebal practice, you did so and brought him home. Considering how much Ethan loved to stay to himself, you did not give his abnormally quiet conduct much attention, but you could still sense something was off. Ethan is currently in the living room scrolling through his phone as you are currently preparing dinner.

Ethan fiddles with his hair as he lets out another sigh seeing a sports channel talk about his performances and comparing him to his brother once more. Ethan is proud of his brother and will always be his number 1 supporter, but he hates how he always gets compared to Kylian. He especially hates when grown men on the sports channel talk about how he isn't good and he would never be like his brother. He tries his hardest to ignore the harsh criticism, but when you constantly hear about it- it tends to build up until you cannot take it anymore. This has been going on for a while now, and the one time he tried to talk to one of his teammates who he considered a best friend, he told him to just ‘try and brush it off’ as the media will always be negative. Well, he tried to listen to his best friend but as a 16 year old, it's not surprising that it can not simply be ignored when it feels as if the public only likes you because they think they have the potential to see your brother. He felt as if when people look at him, all they think about is Kylian Mbappe, not Ethan Mbappe. He begins to contemplate if he should talk to you or not because he does not want to worry you, but he knew you were someone he could rely on. You and his brother have been dating for 3 years now, and anytime there was a minor convince- you always helped him no matter what. He shuts off his phone, deciding it is best to talk to you and begins to make his way into the kitchen.

You were preparing dinner as he was debating what to do. You put on some music and begin to prep your ingredients, carefully chopping and measuring everything. The kitchen smells amazing as you sauté garlic and onions in olive oil, adding in diced tomatoes and a sprinkle of spices.

Next, you start on the main course. You're making grilled chicken marinated in a savory mixture of soy sauce, honey, and ginger. You pat the chicken dry and place it on the grill, watching as it sizzles and cooks to perfection. While the chicken is cooking, you start on the side dish. You're making roasted sweet potatoes with a hint of cinnamon and brown sugar. You slice the sweet potatoes into thin rounds, toss them in a mixture of spices and oil, and place them in the oven to bake.

You can hear Ethan's footsteps when he enters the kitchen, indicating that the music was not played at an excessive volume. "It smells nice," he says as he takes a seat on the bar stool. You smile hearing his compliment, "I'm making chicken and roasted potatoes with asparagus for us!  Although your brother is supposed to arrive home later than expected, I don't think we should go hungry until then, am I right?," you chuckle. He scratches the side of his head and nods in agreement before saying, "Hey ummm... Can we talk for a moment, Y/N.... ,"  he murmurs the final phrase, "There's been something that just has been bothering me." 

 "Of course," you say, sensing that he wants to open up to you about something personal. 

 "It's just that...I feel like I'm always being compared to Kylian, you know? Everyone's always asking me if I'm going to be as good as him or just the media constantly nagging my every move. If I mess up just once I just get so much hate, and it's like...I don't know if I can live up to that."

 You nod sympathetically. "I can imagine that's a lot of pressure. But you don't have to be Kylian, you know? You can be your own player." 

"But that's the thing," Ethan says, looking frustrated. "I want to be my own player, but it feels like everyone's always talking about how I compare to him. Even I do it to myself sometimes."

 "Well, you're not alone," you say, trying to reassure him. "Lots of people compare themselves to others, but it's not always a helpful way to think. You're talented in your own right, and you don't have to measure up to anyone else's standards.” 

Ethan seems to relax a little, nodding along. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But it's hard not to think about it when it's all people ever talk about."

"I get that," you say as you walk over to grab two plates from the counter. "But you should focus on your own progress and improvement, not what other people think or say.  And even though you're young, you have such a huge opportunity to keep on learning and growing as a player. You have so much potential and you're constantly improving."

"But I keep making mistakes," he says with a sigh as he watches you beginning to prep the plates.

"Mistakes are a part of learning.You're going to make mistakes, but that doesn't mean you're not good enough. It means you're growing and learning. You have so much potential, and I believe in you. Just keep practicing, keep pushing yourself, and don't worry about what anyone else thinks or says. You're doing great." You speak while you put food on both plates, along with a fork and a knife, on each plate. 

 He stays quiet for a moment as he takes in the words that you tell him. A small smile appears on his face, seeming to feel a little better. "Thanks. I guess I just need to work harder."

You take both plates and set them both on the kitchen island, moving one over to Ethan as you explain, "You don't need to work harder, you just need to believe in yourself."

"And if you're really upset about it, you can always talk to Kylian about it," you say as you start chopping the roasted chicken into smaller pieces. " We both know how unfavorable the media can be toward him, and I am not a futebol star like you, so my advice may not be the greatest."

Ethan looks thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess I could talk to him about it. Thanks for listening, though. I feel like I can trust you.” He takes a bite of the asparagus.

 "Of course I'm always here if you need to talk! And even though I'm not the best futebol player, if you ever need someone to talk to or to practice with, I'm here for you. I mean who knows, maybe I'll just cross you up." You both laugh, knowing that you could definitely not do that.

When you two were eating the delicious supper you had prepared, neither of you realized that Kylian had arrived home earlier than intended and had heard all you said.

Kylian quietly opens the front door of his house and makes his way to the kitchen. As he approaches, he can hear the sound of your voice, and his younger brother's voice responding. Curiosity piqued, he peeks around the corner and sees you sitting with his brother, giving him some advice and offering some kind words. He doesn't want to interrupt, so he decides to listen in. As he hears you speak, he can't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for you. You have always been a kind and caring person, but to see you taking the time to give his brother such motivational words is truly inspiring. Kylian takes a step back and leans against the wall, listening in to the conversation. He hears you tell his brother that he's capable of anything he sets his mind to, that he has so much potential, and that he doesn't need to compare himself to anyone else. Kylian can see the look of appreciation on his brother's face, and he can feel his own love for you grow even stronger. He thinks about how lucky he is to have you in his life, and how grateful he is for all the times you have encouraged him and supported him. He thinks about how you have always been there for him, through thick and thin, and how you always believed in him even when he didn't believe in himself.

In that moment, Kylian knows that he's found someone truly special, someone who brings out the best in him and in those around her. He knows that he'll always be grateful for your love and support, and he can't wait to see where your journey together will take you two.

[winterspiderpurrs]

Pepper sighed as she exited the elevator to head toward the lab. About two hours ago, she received the notification she and Rhodey set up several years ago. Rhodey was already en route to the tower. Should be here in the next twenty minutes.

When the doors slid open to the lab, she found Tony sitting in a chair, hand deep into a robot, but his focus was on a projected screen in front of him. Looks like he was reading paged of book. When he tilts his head a certain way, the pages turn.

" Tony. What are you doing?"

" Nothing. Just reading"

" Uh huh. Then why did Friday notify me that you unblocked Peter's on the server"

" Hey! Big tattle tell Friday! Don't worry about it, Pep. It's been a while, and I heard from Brucie that Peter published another paper. And I just wanted to read it. "

" Don't start this up again Tony. You go down this rabbit hole its going to be like before"

" Have faith Pepper! I'm just reading a paper, I'm not asking him out."

" Again?"

Tony swirls around in his chair and faces Pepper.

" I can control myself!"

" Said that the last 3 times. This time isn't going to work. Just leave him be Tony"

" It's not going to be anything! His idea to use some nano tech in closing wounds is intriguing, but we would have to test that out. Lots more research. I could get a grant for him to explore it. "

" Tony!"

Pepper stomps her foot to get his attention before he goes off on a tangent. This is how it always goes with Peter and Tony.

See Tony met Peter when Peter was 18 and was doing a summer internship at the tower. They hit it off and started a whirlwind romance. And that's how it went.

Things would be great, then Peter would ask for more, and Tony would break up with him. They separate for a while. Peter does something that draws Tony back in, and they try to be friends and end up where they started.

It's not like Tony doesn't know that Peter knows himself in the ways of science. But it came to the relationship? The long haul? Tony wanted that, but Peter was just so young, so he kept pushing him away.

They have been doing this song and dance for years. The last break up was a year and a half ago.

And Peter left without a fuss this time. Simply packed up his bags, told Tony to stop contacting him til he grows up and figures out what he wants. But not wait for him cause he was absolutely done.

The doors open to the lab again and Rhodey walks out.

" i don't smell alcohol so Tony is still sober. Whats the emergency Pepper"

" PGMATDK Protocol "

" Shit okay. "

Tony blinks.

" Hey! Only I'm allowed to have acronyms!"

"Sure Tones. But brace yourself."

"What?"

Pepper sighs and looks to Rhodey before back to Tony.

" You've read just Peter's papers. Haven't researched into him again correct?"

Tony frowned and looked between the two.

" No just his published work..."

" Well I'm sorry that this is coming out but...Peter got married"

Tony stares at them before standing up and pacing.

" We have only been broken up a year and a half? When? To who? "

Tony spins around to look at them.

" Tell me it wasn't to that Strange guy"

" No he didn't marry Dr. Strange, someone else about a month ago.

Tony stares at them again before sitting down. Rhodey comes to stand next to him and puts his hand on his shoulder.

" I'm sorry Tony..."

They stayed like for a while before Tony whispered.

" Does he seem happy?"

" Don't open that box Tony. But... he does... yes."

Later that night Tony was looking up the photos.

[richmondsway]

“ oh,  jamie,  i… ”    but  the  words  get  stuck  in  his  throat,  which  takes  paddy  by  surprise.    his  vocal  cords  feel  pinched  shut  with  emotion,  tears  blurring  his  vision  the  longer  he  looks  at  jamie.    he  knows  it’s  the  sight  of  the  young  lad  that’s  causing  these  tears,  it  would�� be  easier  to  look  away  and  have  his  tears  disappear.    but  it  would  feel  like  an  even  bigger  betrayal,  not   being  able  to  face  jamie  as  paddy  announces  his  retirement.    paddy  has  to  look  him  in  the  eye  as  he  does  this;  he  owes  him  that  much.    a  single  tear  falls  down  his  cheek  when  paddy  reaches  out  over  the  table  to  take  jamie’s  hand,  the  other  one  wiping  the  tear  away  as  quickly  as  it’d  fallen.    paddy  takes  both  of  jamie’s  hands  in  his,  pinching  them  so  hard  the  skin  of  his  fingers  turns  white.    “ yeah,  lad.    this  is  it. ”    his  words  wobble  dangerously,  balancing  an  edge  unfamiliar  to  it.

it’s  rare  for  paddy  to  get  this  emotional.    he  knows  he  won’t  cry  when  he  announces  the  news  to  pep,  shares  it  in  city’s  dressing  room,  says  it  out  loud  during  a  press  conference.    they  would  have  their  own  sort  of  gut-wrenching  goodbyes,  something  sweet  with  nostalgia  and  bitter  as  the  ending  of  an  era.    putting  a  period  behind  his  football  career  means  leaving  behind  a  part  of  himself  that  has  always  been  essential  to  how  paddy  o’gara  experiences  the  world,  how  the  world  experiences  him.    he  might  shed  a  tear  for  that  part  in  private,  when  he  feels  it’s  appropriate  to  grieve    –    if  he  finds  he  time  for  it,  between  taking  care  of  his  family  and  picking  up  the  dozens  upon  dozens  of  hobbies  he’d  promised  himself  to  take  up  once  he’s  in  retirement.    between  keeping  an  eye  on  jamie,  which  he  swears  to  himself  and  his  teammate,  as  he  pulls  his  hands  closer  and  leans  over  to  press  a  kiss  against  jamie’s  knuckles.

one  more  time.    jamie  and  paddy  will  share  one  more  season  on  the  pitch  together.    admittedly  paddy  had  worried  about  not  being  able  to  play  with  jamie  by  his  side  before  he’d  gone  into  retirement.    jamie’s  return  to  manchester  city  had  been  a  relief  in  many  aspects  and  paddy  would  lie  if  this  wasn’t  one  of  them.    ( it’d  also  been  a  tragedy,  paddy  knows,  one  he’d  hoped  to  keep  jamie  safe  from    –    but  some  things  even  paddy  o’gara  can’t  stop  from  happening. )    it  tears  at  him,  to  have  jamie  crawl  back  from  london,  only  to  give  him  another  kick.    paddy  had  hoped  to  have  finished  their  meal,  at  least,  share  a  few  laughs  as  to  not  entirely  taint  jamie’s  return  to  manchester,  their  long  awaited  reunion.    paddy’s  breath  turns  shaky.    he  presses  one  more  kiss  against  jamie’s  hand,  this  time  with  an  apology  attached,  before  he  lowers  them  to  rest  on  the  table.

paddy  remembers  the  first  time  he’d  offered  help  picking  up  the  cones.    he  hadn’t  really  offered  in  the  sense  that  any  other  human  being  would.    paddy  had  just  started  picking  up  the  cones  on  his  side  of  the  pitch,  making  his  way  to  meet  up  with  jamie  halfway.    he’d  carried  his  fair  share  into  the  stock  room  in  silence,  followed  by  the  dumbfounded   young  lad,  and  paddy  had  refused  to  let  him  out  of  his  sight  ever  since.    paddy  looks  at  him  now  and  still  his  love  and  pride  for  him  shines  through  his  regret.    look  how  much  he’s  grown,  he  thinks  to  himself,  he’s  going  to  be  fine  just  without  you,  pádraig.    but  maybe  it  wasn’t  a  question  of  how  jamie  would  fare  without  him.    what’s  paddy  going  to  do  without  jamie?    who’s  going  to  keep  him  company  every  sunday  noon?    who  will  paddy  make  his  apple  cake  for?    whose  hair  is  he  going  to  ruffle  and  laugh  at  their  dismay?    he  remembers  the  shape  of  jamie’s  head  on  his  lap,  the  weight  familiar  and  comfortable  by  now,  as  paddy  strokes  his  cheek  and  tells  him  it’s  going  to  be  alright.    paddy  hadn’t  realized  before  that  he  might  have  been  talking  to  the  both  of  them.    paddy  considers  his  kitchen,  empty  of  jamie’s  laughter  and  apple  cake  slices,  and  it’s  not  something  he  wants  to  think  about    –    because  it  feels  impossible,  his  life  without  enough  room  for  jamie  to  exist,  for  jamie  to  grow.

jamie  will  be  his  hardest  goodbye.    paddy  has  always  known  this,  even  if  it  was  something  he  didn’t  want  to  consider  to  its  full  extend;  he  knew  because  he  never  wanted  to  consider  saying  goodbye  to  jamie  to  its  full  extend.    he  knows  this  is  far  from  turning  his  back  towards  him.   there’s  no  way  that  paddy  would  ever  do  that.    but  paddy  will  move  back  to  ireland.    jamie  will  have  to  navigate  manchester  city  without  him.    although  paddy  thinks  they’ll  always  be  side  by  side  in  heart  and  mind,  they  will  no  longer  be  close.    watching  jamie  kick  a  ball  around  with  his  daughters  will  be  an  off-season  privilege  from  now  on.    paddy  will  have  to  watch  most  of  his  games  on  television.    their  late  night  conversations  will  now  become  video  calls  on  the  scarce  moments  both  will  find  the  time  to.    their  dynamic  will  change,  an  inevitable  consequence,  and  both  will  need  time  to  fill  up  the  empty  space  it  leaves.

“ ah,  shite. ”    paddy  curses  as  he  lets  go  of  jamie’s  hands,  wipes  away  another  tear.    he  tries  to  think  of  a  joke  to  make  things  a  little  more  bearable,  exchange  the  heaviness  of  the  moment  with  something  familiar  they  can  both  cling  to.    but  paddy  fails  to  come  up  with  anything  else  but  silence.    he’s  unable  to  fill  it  for  a  while,  coming  in  short  with  anything  else  to  say,  until    –    mercifully    –    something  does  come  to  light.    “ come  on  now,  jamie.    you’re   acting  like  i’ve  died  or  something.    it  isn’t  something  that  dramatic.    i”m  not  that  old   yet. ”

The 2020 season. Jamie's fifth season in the Premier League. He's going to do great things, he tells himself. It's necessary that he does. It's his time to shine. This'll be the year. He'll get his call up to the Three Lions, he'll impress Southgate, he'll be a fucking star. The fucking star he's always meant to be, shining in City blue. Richmond was just a step along the way to becoming the next Ronaldo, the next Roy Kent. Sure, Ronaldo and Roy Kent never went on loan, but that just shows how much harder Jamie will have worked by the time he's an old fuck like them - like Paddy, that voice in his brain adds. Like Paddy.

Jamie's always called Paddy old in an affectionate sort of way. It's different from the way he calls Roy old. Called, he supposed. Jamie'll never meet Roy Kent again. He fucked that one up good, didn't he? His childhood hero, the man he'd truly worshipped on the pitch, the man that Jamie would have done just about anything to impress... Paddy had been on the pitch the first time Jamie had been substituted into a Chelsea match facing down Roy Kent. He had seen the way that Jamie had paused, had stuttered in his steps, had practically handed the ball over to Roy Kent and Chelsea. Jamie had been nineteen, still so new to this game, still feeling small in his boots, especially faced with the legend - the god - that he believed Roy Kent to be his entire childhood; Jamie was only substituted in because of an injury to their 9, an injury that required treatment off of the pitch, so Pep had needed to put someone in - and that someone was Jamie. City had lost to Chelsea, 3-1. De Villardi was fuming after the match, but James had been fucking furious that night. Why had Jamie just stood there like a deer in headlights? Why had Jamie just let Roy Kent do whatever the fuck he wanted out there? His son doesn't let City lose to fucking Chelsea, you looked like a fucking fa- Jamie pushes that thought out of his head. It had been Paddy's doorstep that Jamie showed up on that night, far too late. He apologised to Sinéad, he hadn't meant to wake Éire, he hadn't meant to bother Sin, but it was cold and he was tired and his head hurt and his shoulder hurt and his body hurt and 'I just need your husband for, like, an hour, and also maybe a bed, please...'

Paddy O'Gara is like a four leaf clover - not just because he's Irish. But because he's... he's Paddy. He's let Jamie past his hard outer shell, let Jamie see the man he is. The man who loves to cook and bake for his loved ones, who dances with his wife in the kitchen, who's carried a giggling Éire around the pitch at the Etihad. Jamie held Teagan as a newborn - she'd been so small. He'd never seen a person that small before. He's had kickabouts with the two little O'Gara girls in their massive back garden, he's let them score goal after goal on him, and celebrated like they'd just won the World Cup. Because Paddy let him in. And Jamie feels so, so incredibly lucky to have a mentor like Paddy. He can't think of anyone else - other than Georgie - that would open their door to him in the middle of the night, let him in, let him cry into their lap on the sofa while Jamie tried to muffle his sobs. Paddy O'Gara is the best of men, Jamie's sure of it. The man Jamie is around Paddy is the man that Georgie has always wanted him to be. And, fuck, Jamie's glad he's back from fucking London so that he can be around him again.

Jamie looks across the table at Paddy - he senses something. An uncertainty that's so unlike Paddy before the start of a season. Paddy has always been so certain. He was certain in 2017, when they won the whole fucking thing - the first year of Teagan's life, Jamie knew he did it for her. And then he was certain again in 2018, and they did it again. The framed picture of Jamie leaning on Paddy during the trophy celebration is one of his prized possessions. It's one of the few things he brought down with him from Manchester to Richmond when he moved for his loan. It sits on his bedside table to this day, reminding him of what they're playing for, the goals they've set out to achieve. That City can truly do anything, if they just put their mind to it and dig their boots in.

But Paddy's uncertain. Why is he uncertain?

He speaks, and his voice shakes. Jamie sets down his own burger, wiping his hands off on his napkin. What's going on? His brow furrows, his eyes meeting Paddy's. When he speaks, Jamie feels like he's been slapped. Like the air has just been forced from his lungs by a strategically placed knee. Like he's that nineteen-year-old boy on that doorstep in December of 2016, lost, confused, scared. "What...?" he asks, his voice cracking. He's heard nothing of this. He knows Paddy is getting older; he knows it'd be fucking stupid to keep playing until your body's ruined the way Roy Kent did. But... this? This season? This is it? Fuck, did Paddy wait one more season to retire so that they could play it together? Jamie feels tears in his eyes. He fucking hates crying - how does Paddy manage to get him to cry so easily? "You- I-" He doesn't have the words to say. He feels a lump in his throat, making it even harder to catch his breath. "This-" Jamie knows it'd be unfair to force him to stay, to tell him to take that back, that they aren't finished yet, that they've got more to prove. This season will be for proving more. This season is their finale. "Fuck-" Jamie's voice cracks, scrubbing his hands over his face. Don't cry, Tartt. Don't cry. "This's it, then?"

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Jeff Winger (Reluctantly) Becoming An Older Brother Figure To You

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Jeff Winger x gn!reader (platonic)

Warnings: Optional mentions of a romantic relationship with an unspecified person (it’s optional so romance-averse arospec readers can still feel included!). Optional mentions of getting drunk. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: Platonic and/or older brother figure!Jeff is one of my favourite things to write when it comes to Community, so I thought I’d write some headcanons about it. This is a very messy set of headcanons, but I was just desperate to write them. This is definitely not a hint that I want to write more platonic and/or older brother figure!Jeff stuff and that you should send in requests for it. Definitely not.)

So, the title says ‘reluctantly’.

This is definitely the case when it comes to Jeff.

Most of the time, Jeff doesn’t care about anything or anyone (or, so he says).

If he does care, it’s completely against his will.

He’s so desperate to not care that you would think it caused him physical pain to have a shred of feeling toward another living being.

His time at Greendale causes/forces him to care about everyone in his study group (something he’d hate to admit, especially at first).

You were no exception.

I feel like the realisation of him caring about you would hit him when he walks past you in the hall when you’re crying, and he genuinely worries about you.

Initially, whenever Jeff feels himself caring about you, he’d definitely try his best to snap himself out of it.

He didn’t want to care about some random kid he accidentally befriended at his toilet of a community college.

But, eventually, he just couldn’t help it.

If he ever sees you upset again, he’d definitely make an attempt at consoling you and figuring out what was wrong (albeit in his own stiff and uncomfortable way).

He’d hug you and pretty much beg you to not tell anyone about it.

You would be one of the first people he looked out for without wanting to get into your pants.

That being said, he wouldn’t notice the fact that he’s become a kind of older brother figure to you until Britta points it out and Abed agrees with her.

I can imagine Jeff being concerned when you don’t show up to a study session.

Alternatively, if you’re interested in romantic relationships, this could happen when Annie told him you were on a date.

He’d ask about your romantic partner, which causes Britta to realise it because there’s no reason for him to care outside of him caring about you.

Once he becomes consciously aware of the role he’s inadvertently put himself in, he’d probably actively try to fight it, but to no avail.

The Study Group would realise that it’s something that kind of embarrasses him, and Britta and Annie would definitely tease him about it whenever something related to it comes up.

No matter how much he cares for you, he’s still incredibly awkward when he tries to comfort you.

Though, he’s in his element when he’s giving you a speech or a pep-talk.

Odds are he’ll become the person you first go to for advice.

It’s clear that he’s kinda protective of you.

He’s the first one to offer to solve any problems you’re having when another person (a professor, another student etc.) is involved.

He’s also the first one to shut down any ‘stupid ideas’ you have which he knows will end badly for you; it’s not always obvious, but he does this because he doesn’t want to see you get hurt, not just because he’s an asshole.

If you drink alcohol, I can picture you calling him when you need a ride home after getting wasted at a bar or a party or something, and him (much to his chagrin) agreeing to pick you up.

He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, but, if it does, he’ll definitely be there to help you.

He never imagined becoming someone else’s older brother.

In fact, he never really wanted to.

But, in the end, he’s okay with being an older brother figure to you.

[kurosukii]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞

pairing: oikawa tooru x f!reader

summary: there’s no one you hate more on this earth than your school’s cocky volleyball captain, and being paired with him for a class project just honestly takes the cake. 

genre: college au, enemies to enemies fucking au.

warnings: 18+. hate sex (oiks is a meanie here but so are you, kinda), slight size kink, against the wall sex, facetiming (noncon to dubcon), exhibitionism (noncon to dubcon), voyeurism (noncon to dubcon), dacryphilia, ass play, multiple orgasms (oiks has mad stamina), degradation, slight praise, face-fucking, oral (m receiving), tit-fucking, unprotected sex, overstimulation, squirting, spanking, dirty talk, humiliation, dumbification, spitting, cumplay, creampie, hair pulling, pet names (bunny), implied seijoh four x reader

word count: 6.9k

author’s note: not much to say about this other than i’m a SEIJOH FOUR WHORE!!!! (let me know if i missed any warnings) (MINORS DNI)

[2:11 PM]

you honestly think the world hates you.

you tried your hardest to stifle your groan and not slam your head on the desk when the professor called out your name with your self-proclaimed “enemy”, oikawa tooru, for the project that was worth forty percent of your grade this semester.

when class ended, you marched ‘respectfully’ to your professor to negotiate if you can work on this project alone, but even before a word even slipped out of your mouth, your professor raised their eyebrow at you, sensing what you were going to say and just said “just deal with it” and “stop acting like a high school student”.

well, that was an ice cold bucket of reality that was just poured on you.

you were definitely acting like a high school student, and the cause of your behavior was none other than one of your school’s most obnoxious athletes, oikawa tooru.

seriously, there was just something about him that irked you so much. maybe it’s an accumulation of all his actions, his smugness, and the way he turns his nose on everyone, but all the girls and guys seemed to keep running back to him. everyone saw him as the ‘perfect king’, but you knew better. at least, you seemed to think so.

sometimes, you’d feel embarrassed at the way you were feeling and acting. you were raised to be a respectful person with good manners and conduct, so every time you get the pep talk from the imaginary angel on your shoulder, you’d try your best to be amicable with oikawa for every interaction since you shared multiple classes with him. but every time you did so, oikawa would end up doing something that broke your resolve and you were back to square one again. it seemed like the guy got off to annoying the shit out of you and making your day terrible.

with the professor long gone from the lecture room, you were left alone with your thoughts, up until you heard someone click their tongue. you shook your head as you turned to the source of the sound.

“aw, do you not want to be paired with me that badly? i’m not that bad! i’m going to help you do the work if that’s what you’re so worried about, sweetheart,” oikawa taunted in that lilting voice of his, with brown eyes glinting in mischief as he tossed his hair back.

“fuck off, tooru. just don’t slack off on this project or i’ll kick your ass,” you threatened him, anger slowly rising. he laughed at you, mirth making his eyes disappear. your lips thinned to a line as your anger increased.

you called him by his first name, not bothering with the respect (if he even deserved that) that came with addressing someone with their family name since you ‘hated’ his guts anyway, but somewhere deep down, you called him tooru because you like the way it sounded.

you liked the way it fell from your lips with a sigh whenever you touched yourself in the privacy of your room. the post nut clarity always hits you hard after orgasming with his face in your mind. maybe that’s why you pretended to hate him so much, because you were really just like the other girls. you were just as enamored by him as the other fangirls were, only they embraced it while you still denied it. nevertheless, the hornier you felt for him, the easier it was to channel that into anger and exasperation against him.

meanwhile, you didn’t notice it, as you were too busy in your own bubble, but his eyes darkened when he heard his given name slip from your lips. he’s more accepting of his desire for you, fucking his fist nearly every night with the thought of you underneath him, begging him to fuck that naughty pussy of yours to oblivion.

oh he knew that you were just putting up a front, and he let you. he knew it in the way your stares would linger and change into something deeper—more carnal. you thought he wouldn’t notice.

but he did.

he notices everything about you just like how he notices every play on the court. he relishes in it, practically keeping a tally in his head, so when he finally gets to pound your cunt, he’d confront you about it, and there’s nothing you can do about but accept his cock and his words.

he shook his head from his dark, carnal thoughts and slowly walked towards you, shoulders tightening as he fought the urge to slam you down on the table and fuck your cunt and make you scream so loud that people will come running.

you stood your ground as you looked up at him, which is a feat because you were damn near shaking and the tightening coil in your lower stomach was not helping either.

damn you oikawa tooru, you growled in your head.

he leaned down towards you until your noses were almost touching, with his bubblegum breath fanning your face and chocolate eyes boring into your own. “don’t worry sweetheart, i’m not going to let you do this on your own. what kind of guy would i be if i let you slave over this without my help? tsk, that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, now would it?” he says as he straightened his body, with attitude and face going back to his usual demeanor, different from the one before.

you sucked in a breath as he pulled away and he smirked at you. “see you later at 7pm, sweetheart. you know where my place is, don’t you?” he asked you absentmindedly, making your blood boil at the audacity of him expecting you knew where he lived, and you did, but that’s besides the point. he was just so fucking obnoxious.

you scoffed an affirmative at him which made his smirk grow wider. “count the hours until you get to see me again, darling. i know i will,” he winked salaciously as he turned his back on you, wiggling his fingers as a sign of goodbye. you didn’t bother to grace him with a respectful farewell. instead, you raised your middle finger at him that was accompanied by a glare.

he just laughed at you, “always so mad at me, sweetheart. maybe you need to remove some of that tension,” his gaze smoldered, eyes turning into molten brown.

you involuntarily gulped as he slowly looked you up and down. he made eye contact with you, eyes still dark, as he licked his lips. he looked like he was about to pounce on you and devour you. It took him every ounce of his focus and self-control before his lips curved into his i’m so perfect and you’re not smile and blew you a kiss as he finally walked off to his next class.

you bit your tongue to prevent yourself from screaming as you cursed oikawa in your head to hell and back. the nerve of this dickhead, you thought to yourself. you grumbled more to yourself as you hiked your bag over your shoulder and walked out of the lecture room. you were done for the day and despite what oikawa thinks, you weren’t going to count the hours until you get to be in his apartment with him. alone.

but then again, all you did was lie to yourself wherever he was concerned, because you definitely didn’t twiddle your thumbs for five hours, took a shower and shaved, basically pampered yourself to look good and decent for him. no, you definitely didn’t do any of that for him.

if you were paired with another person, you would have definitely arrived ten minutes before the set time, but because it was oikawa, you took your sweet time going to his apartment, annoyance brewing. what was so wrong with living on campus? you asked yourself along the way, which made you even more annoyed because he didn’t even offer to pick you up at the train station. not that he needed to, but the courtesy would’ve been nice and it would’ve made you see him differently, but he didn’t do any of that so you’re stuck stomping your way to his apartment building.

“are you sure about this, oikawa? makki and i don’t mind having front row seats to this shit,” mattsun smirked, arms resting on the back of the couch in the spacious apartment. oikawa invited them to hang out after practice because he said he had a “surprise” for them.

“don’t know about the other one there, though,” mattsun nodded to iwaizumi who was brooding by the floor to ceiling window, arms crossed as he raised his eyebrow at mattsun. “maybe he wants in on it,” makki piped which made all three of them laugh at iwaizumi while he just told all of them to fuck off. he didn’t want to admit it, but he wanted to see you put in your place as well.

he wouldn’t have given a fuck about your petty and sexual tension-filled issues with his captain, but you also gave him grief whenever he was with oikawa and what better way than to witness, and probably have a hand in, seeing you begging and whining for your cunt to be filled with cum?  

“don’t worry guys, you’ll definitely have your turns,” oikawa’s eyes glinted as he smirked at his friends. “looks like little bunny is running late,” he checked his wall clock and tutted to himself.

sheesh, guess the king really does live lavishly, you grumbled to yourself as you stared at the intimidating complex. most college students are broke, live in school sponsored dormitories, and survive on store bought ramen, but oikawa obviously isn’t like most college students. you shook your head at the clear social divide and pushed through the spinning doors, the cool air of the lobby blowing into your face as you shivered from the temperature.

you walked up to the receptionist’s desk–of course there’s a receptionist–and you asked her what floor and room number oikawa’s apartment was. you just about thanked her when your phone pinged so you took it out and checked the message.

“you’re running late, little bunny. might have to punish you for this.”

your legs squirmed as you felt your panties dampen at oikawa’s text. your clothes seemed hotter now and you pulled at your collar. you cleared your throat and nodded to the receptionist as you walked to the elevator.

before you knew it, you found yourself before oikawa’s door. you were about to knock but it opened, revealing his shirtless form. you gulped and couldn’t help but stare at his lithe body, with droplets of water slowly trickling down his abdomen and disappearing through the waistband of his sweatpants. you raised your eyes to meet his. he was smirking at you, his smug face satisfied with your perusal of him. he was drying his damp hair with a towel, and it made his biceps ripple. why does he have to be so goddamn obnoxious and hot.

“are you done staring at me bunny? as much as i love your gaze on my body, that’s not what you’re here for, unless…?” he taunted you, his body lazily leaning against the doorframe as his tongue slowly licked the bottom of his lip as he stared at you this time. you scoffed at him, and didn’t bother to wait for his invitation inside his apartment.

you lightly shoved him, careful not to make most of your skin touch, which was a feat since he was naked from the waist up. “you wish, tooru. stop being stupid and let’s get this done and over with,” you muttered in annoyance, standing in the middle of his living room with your arms crossed and quietly observing your surroundings. “and don’t call me bunny!” you snarled at him, eyes meeting his glowing brown ones.

“i’ll call you anything i want to, bunny, and seeing that you’re in my home, you don’t get to have the privilege to order me around here, understand?” he warned you, voice lowering by a few octaves. if you had a tail, it would’ve been tucked between your legs by now. you bit your tongue and nodded at him with your eyes lowered. he smiled devilishly at you and turned his still shirtless body in the direction of what you presumed to be his room.

“let’s do this in my room, bunny. i have everything we need there,” you followed him without a word, realising that you were indeed powerless here. you didn’t notice the smug smile he was sporting, however, because his muscular back was turned to you. each step to his bedroom was a step closer to what he and by extension, his friends, had in store for you.

you entered his room and you marveled at his king size bed that was covered in navy blue sheets. there was a tall shelf against the off white walls that was filled with a few alien and ufo figurines, trophies, and framed pictures of him and his team.

you turned to him to ask about what he wanted to do until you felt him loom over you. he looked at you like you were his prey and he was the predator, which was not a far cry because you really did feel like a bunny and he was the big bad wolf. his dark eyes seared into your body as you felt your heartbeat quicken.

in one blink, he had you on your back on the soft bed with your wrists pinned together with one big hand as he nuzzled his nose on your neck and inhaled. “you smell so good, bunny. did you clean yourself up for me?” he hummed and shamelessly snaked out his tongue to lick a stripe on your neck which made you squeal at the hot and wet muscle against your skin. “taste good too,” he chuckled, the vibrations and heat of his breath making your spine tingle and arousal grow.

his timing was impeccable, he pinned you down before you even had the chance to notice the phone propped on the table beside his bed, with a fancy desktop where a few books laid askew, and his friends staring intently from the small screen. mattsun opened his mouth and before he could break the tension, makki slapped his hand over it and quietly shushed him. iwaizumi was too transfixed at the situation before him to reprimand mattsun for almost interrupting.

“t-tooru! get off—” you weren’t able to finish your sentence before oikawa bit the skin of your neck to quiet you down. “you should be honest with yourself, you know? i know how you look at me,” he teased you, slowly kissing down your body through your shirt. 

“not so feisty now, hm? you’re so putty in my hands,” he rose to his knees on the bed and let go of your wrists. you raised your arm to slap him on the face but he caught it, he also grabbed your other arm and slightly squeezed them as a sign of warning. “there she is, my feisty little girl,” he smirked down at you. his brown hair glistening in the low light of his bedroom as his dark eyes glinted at you.

he transferred your other wrist to his one hand as he slowly untied the strings on his sweatpants. you didn’t miss the growing bulge in pants, cock hardening at what was about to happen. you swallowed the lump in your throat because after so many nights of fantasizing and imagining, you’re going to finally see what he would look like under all those clothes.

“you want my cock? of course you do, your eyes are practically dripping with greed,” he mocked you, his hand slowly lowering his pants until his naked cock sprang free and bounced on his abdomen. fuck, he wasn’t wearing any underwear. your pussy gushed at the thought of him lounging around his apartment with only a thin fabric separating his cock from exposure.

“got nothing to say, hm? i was hoping you’d run your mouth just so i could have the excuse of shutting you up with my cock,” he taunted, eyes studying your face as a smirk stretched his lips. “did seeing my cock shut you up? i do have a pretty cock, don’t i?” he questioned you rhetorically.

you hated it because he was right. his cock was as pretty as him and it was enough to swallow on the words rising from your throat. it wasn’t overly girthy but you knew that it would still cause damage just by watching it pulse and throb, with pre-cum leaking from its tip.

“i’m going to let go of your hands now, slutty bunny, and you’re going to suck my cock until i fill your throat and mouth with my hot cum,” he told you in a matter of fact tone, and you really wished your weak self would protest and shove him away and bolt from his apartment to disappear from the face of the earth, but you couldn’t deny this opportunity, couldn’t deny yourself anymore, and oikawa knew that. he’s playing you like a fiddle and you’re absolutely falling for it.

he let go of your hands and you immediately gripped his cock, the other one holding on to his muscled thigh for balance. you licked one long line on the underside of his shaft before going back to suck the pre-cum on his tip. he tightly closed his eyes as he groaned, putting one hand on the back of your head and felt his thigh tense at the stimulation brought by your tongue.

your lips curled into a smug smile at oikawa’s reaction. he noticed it and glared down at you, he was about to say something before you widened your mouth to fit his entire cock in one go. you slightly gagged when he hit the back of your throat. oikawa threw his head back as he let out a long and loud moan, cock twitching in the heat and wetness of your mouth.

determined to make oikawa lose his shit, you started bobbing your head as you licked and sucked on his throbbing cock, maintaining eye contact with him. his lips were parted as he stared down at your moving head, eyes smoldering and grip tightening. you watched as his chest heaved up and down, his breathing becoming heavier.

oikawa lightly shook his head to get rid of the haze your mouth put him in and squeezed the roots of your hair. you moaned in pain while you narrowed your eyes at him. just when you were about to give him a lashing, he cut you off.

“my cock may be in your mouth but this is not your time to shine, bunny. you do have a good mouth on you, but i’m here to fuck that mouth until you learn your place,” he growled at you, the vein in his temple pulsing as he tried to regain control.

you didn’t even have time to think before he pulled out and slammed his cock back inside your mouth, balls hitting your chin. you cried around his cock as your eyes immediately watered at the sudden force of his thrust. you squeezed his thighs as a sign for him to settle before he fucked your mouth like a fleshlight.

unfortunately, he only gave you a few moments to get used to his size before his hands bundled your hair into a makeshift ponytail and used them as leverage to fuck his cock in and out of your mouth. he groaned as he watched the tears from your eyes fall around your full cheeks as you moaned like a whore with his cock in your mouth.

“i bet you touch yourself to the thought of me, huh?” he taunted you, not stopping from his thrusts. you whined pathetically and felt slick from your cunt wet your panties. “fuck, you do. just how much of a slutty hypocrite are you? all you do is lie to yourself-shit, that’s good–and pretend to hate me when you’re just like everyone else,” he growled, thrusting deep until he hit the back of your throat, clearly frustrated with your actions. you were slobbering all over his cock, saliva and pre-cum staining your face with how fast he was thrusting, while it dripped on the sheets below you.

his groans grew louder and his thrusts became sloppier as he neared his orgasm. you so badly wanted to touch yourself but with the way you were positioned, you’d end up choking on oikawa’s cock if you removed your hands from his thighs. instead, you tried your best to ignore the growing ache in your pussy.

“swallow all my cum, you slutty whore,” he ordered you, voice straining as he delivered one final thrust inside of your mouth before you felt the warm spurts of his cum paint the insides of your mouth and throat. you moaned at the heat, your mouth so full of his cock and cum that you tapped his thigh to give you room to breathe. thankfully, he pulled out his cock with a pop as you inhaled loudly, throat raw from the fucking it experienced.

even if he didn’t tell you, you would’ve swallowed his cum to try and make a statement. he gripped your chin as he inspected your mouth, eyes flashing in satisfaction when he saw your mouth empty. “that’s a good fucking girl,” he said, thumb going inside of your mouth as he pushed on your tongue. you closed your eyes as you breathed heavily, hands hanging limply on your thighs.

oikawa seized the opportunity to swiftly look at his phone, smirking at his friends when he noticed them shifting uncomfortably. iwaizumi flipped him off and oikawa just winked at him.

he turned back to you with your eyes still closed, stealthily blocking your view of his phone as he pulled his thumb from your mouth and licked it. his cock was still hard, owing to the pent-up tension that you have been giving him ever since day one.

he shoved you so your back landed on the bed as he straddled your waist, kicking off the rest of his sweatpants and chucking them to the floor. you opened your eyes as you yelped at the sudden movement, wondering what the fuck he was going to do now.

“what are you do–” you questioned him, but before you could finish, he ripped your shirt into two pieces. your eyes widened in protest as your sports bra-clad chest was exposed to him. “i’m going to fuck these pretty tits, whore,” he said as he squeezed your breasts together and groped them, making your nipples harden into peaks.

you moaned at his touch, finally feeling some stimulation on your body after aching for so long. he lowered his head down to your chest and started sucking on your nipple through the fabric. you threw your head back on his pillow and whined, his hard cock grinding on your thigh at the sounds you were making. he sucked and licked until your back arched to him, silently begging for more.

he raised his head from your chest which made you whimper at the loss of warmth. he looked wild, like he was a man on a mission.

his large hands reached for your bra and stretched the fabric until your tits were exposed to the cool air of his room. you moaned at the feeling of being exposed to oikawa, he stared at your hardened nipples, watching as his cock twitched against his abdomen. you watched his adam’s apple bob until you saw his mouth open. he spit on the valley between your breasts, string connecting from his lips. you moaned at the obscenity of his actions, spit feeling cold and thick as it ran down your chest.

he groaned at the sight, one hand guiding his cock under your bra and inserting himself between your tits. once he settled in between them, he squeezed them together to create that tightness. it wasn’t enough but he’s been wanting to fuck your tits, and it’s finally happening now. he thrusted and groaned at the softness of your breasts squeezing his cock.

his cockhead hit your chin, making it wet with your saliva mixed with his cum. your body rocked along with his thrusts, hearing him grunt and moan as he squeezed and fucked your tits. you wanted to touch yourself, but he was holding you down so you couldn’t reach your pussy. his thrusts became faster and your breasts became wetter as he neared his second orgasm of the night.

you watched him and you became even more annoyed because even in the throes of passion, he was still so pretty. pink lips parted as he breathed loudly, brown eyes darkening the more he looked at you, and that drop of sweat from his neck going down his defined chest.

“g-gonna cum bunny, fuck,” he grunted loudly, head thrown back as his cock spilled his cum and landed on your chin, neck, and chest. he stopped moving and stared at his work in amazement. you glared at him, because although he looked divine when he came, you still hadn’t experienced any type of relief for the night.

“tooru, i’m starting to think you can’t make a girl cum,” you raised your eyebrow in defiance, looking at him boredly, arms supporting you as you lifted your body in a sitting position. “all you did was pleasure yourself. do you even know how to pleasure a girl?” you taunted him, displeasure clearly written over your face. he watched your expression and smirked to himself.

the nerve of this guy.

“oh bunny, i can definitely pleasure you and make you cum. several times, in fact,” he said, eyes tracing his finger as he spread his cum all over your chest. “i just had the foresight to let myself cum twice because if i went straight to fucking you, you’d pass out before i even got my fill of you,” he purred, cock twitching again.

“and i want you to be aware of everything i’m going to do to your body,” he ended his statement with a pinch to your nipple. you yelped at the sting and swatted his hand away. he let out a low laugh before he grabbed your hips and abruptly flipped you over to your stomach.

“let’s remove these pesky shorts, shall we?” he said as he slapped your ass hard. you squealed at the pain, almost forgetting that he’s a volleyball captain and you’ve seen how lethal his serves can be. but you know that he’s not putting all of his strength in that slap. he laughed at your reaction and slapped the other cheek of your ass before pulling your shorts down and throwing it to the floor, eyes subtly flicking to the table.

“pretty ass wearing pretty panties,” he whispered, his index finger tracing the white lace of your panties. your face flushed in embarrassment because you know he’s thinking that you wore those for him. you did, but you’re never going to admit that.

never in a million years.

“your reaction tells me all i need to know, bunny. you definitely wore these for me,” he growled, his large hand coming down to your ass again as you cried at the pain. he watched the plumpness of your ass jiggle before he landed a few more consecutive slaps on the skin.

satisfied with the redness of your ass and the whimpering that came out of your mouth, he tore your panties into two flimsy pieces. he slowly removed them from your pussy, your wetness clinging on to them and forming a string. “can’t wait to fuck this dirty pussy, bunny,” he groaned as he watched it, cock pulsing at the tip.

he didn’t even bother removing your cum stained bra before he pulled your hips up until you were on your knees. he pushed his hand on your lower back, forming a deep arch until you bared your wet pussy to him. leaving one hand on your hip, he guided his throbbing cock to your clenching pussy and ran his tip along your folds. both of you moaned at the stimulation, sensitivity running down your bodies. you gulped at how he was going to make himself fit.

he stopped at your clenching hole before he pushed the tip in, squeezing your hip as he groaned, feeling the tightness around his head. you were about to thrust yourself on his cock because he was taking his sweet time before he shoved himself, making the both of you cry out as he bottomed out in your pussy. he gave an experimental roll of his hips which made your pussy flutter around his cock. he moaned at the sensation, bracing both of his hands on your hips.

he pulled back out and thrusted harder this time, drawing out a moan from you at the force and fisted the sheets in your hands. he began snapping his hips against your ass as you moaned louder.

“look at how my cock’s splitting you,” he grunted, eyes trained at how his cock was disappearing in your cunt. “swallowing my cock like it’s nobody’s business. your fingers aren’t enough. no, you need my cock,” he hissed as he punctuated each word with a hard thrust. he slapped your ass every time he thrusted back in, the double stimulation making you moan like a whore.

his obsession with your ass didn’t stop there. he stopped spanking your ass and centered on the puckered ring that was slightly clenching. he tilted his head to the side and stared at it in wonder. he gathered the saliva in his mouth as he spat on it. you squealed at the new sensation, body rubbing against the bed as he brought his thumb to play with the tight ring, an area you never dared to touch.

“t-tooru, that’s dirty!” you cried out in indignation, trying to squirm away from his finger, but you couldn’t because his cock was drilling your pussy to the bed.

“so? it’s perfect for a fucking dirty girl like you,” he growled, thinking twice if he should insert his thumb in your asshole, but he decided not to. he figured you weren’t ready for that, yet.

he removed his finger from your asshole as he gripped your hips to fuck you even harder, clearly frustrated that he wasn’t able to plunge his thumb in your ass. you moaned at the harshness of his thrusts as he pushed on the back of your neck to the bed. you whined at the pressure, switching your head to the side as you focused on oikawa’s brutal thrusts. that was when you noticed a phone on the table, seeing three red faces peering at you.

“oh my god, are they watching us?!” your eyes widened as you cried out. oikawa looked to the side and chuckled. “took you long enough. they were starting to feel lonely because you weren’t noticing them–fuck, that’s a good pussy,” he hissed as he felt your cunt tighten around his cock.

“why don’t you scream for them as well, hm?” he said as he delivered a particularly hard thrust that made you moan loudly while looking at his friends. iwa, makki, and mattsun groaned at your reaction, shifting their pants as they stayed in their respective places in the next room.

“t-tooru, please turn off your phone!” you cried, tears streaming down your face as you felt shame, embarrassment, and surprisingly, arousal creeping up your sweaty body. were you getting turned on by his friends watching your pussy get fucked?

“fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry,” he groaned as he spanked your ass once more, thrusting harder as he felt your cunt squeeze the shit out of his cock, clearly enjoying the fact that you were getting excited about being watched.

“and besides, i don’t think you really want me to. i think you like getting fucked stupid for my friends to see,” oikawa taunted you, his hands squeezing the fat of your hips. he moved your bodies so you were facing his phone head on, your fucked out face clear for them to watch. you lowered your head to save some of your dignity but he pulled your hair, neck straining as he showed your face to show them.

“tsk, don’t hide your face from them, bunny, let them see how good i’m fucking you,” he said as he looked at his phone, smirking at his friends who glared at him, clearly wanting to leave and bust the door down just to prove him wrong.

“after all, you are an attention whore. i’m just giving you what you want,” he whispered as he leaned down to bite the lobe of your ear. you whined at his strong thrusts, slick from your pussy sliding down your thighs.

“maybe you want them to come in here after i’m done with you and use you as a cum dumpster, do you want that?” he asks, hips thrusting hard as his balls hit your sopping cunt. you whined at his statement, hands gripping the sheets as your vision blurred from the pleasure.

“y-yes i want that! shit, t-tooru, feels so fucking good,” you whined, brain turning into mush as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. your legs were starting to tremble as your orgasm was fast approaching. oikawa knew you were going to cum so he pulled your hair harder and leaned down to whisper in your ear, his sweaty torso covering the expanse of your back.

“it’s okay, you can say it, tell me you love the way i’m fucking this filthy pussy. you’re the only one who doesn’t want to admit it,” he growled in your ear as he furiously played with your clit, making the knot in your stomach threaten to burst from his ministrations.

“i l-love the way you’re f-fucking me tooru! so fucking good, yes—!” you screamed as you came all around his cock, body shaking from the intense orgasm. oikawa groaned loudly as he filled you up with his cum, yours mixing with his. you moaned at the warmth in your pussy, breathing heavily as you tried to regain your senses. he came so much that it was sliding down your legs and staining his sheets.

you looked up at his phone and saw his friends staring at you with their jaws dropped. you would laugh at how comical they looked if you hadn’t just experienced the best fucking of your life, though you’ll never say that to oikawa. ever. you sighed instead, feeling icky with all the cum on and in your body.

you were about to lay on your back until oikawa carried you off the bed and slammed you against the wall, his hand cushioning your head from the hard cement. you yelped as your head spinned from the sudden movement.

“oh? you thought we were done? i promised to make you cum several times, didn’t i?” he smirked at you. you were amazed at his strength, his biceps flexing as he wrapped your still shaking legs around his waist. he didn’t even give you time to breathe before he plunged his hard cock inside your leaking pussy. fuck, this man’s stamina is endless.

you moaned wantonly as he pistoned his hips in and out of your cunt, hands squeezing the back of your thighs. your sweaty back was sliding against the wall as your body moved up and down, hands holding his shoulders for support. you noticed that you were still wearing your bra and it made you uncomfortable at the restriction it was causing to your tits.  

“we want to see her tits, oikawa!” mattsun exclaimed. he was practically bouncing in his seat in excitement. iwaizumi didn’t stop him because he wanted to see your breasts too.

oikawa  smirked, “you heard what he said, wanna show these tits to them?” you nodded frantically, embarrassment nowhere to be found as you removed your hands from his shoulders, finally removing the stained fabric from your chest. oikawa squeezed them with one big hand as soon as they were exposed causing all of them to collectively groan at the sight while oikawa continued fucking you.

“you walk around hating me only for you to end up getting fucked by my cock?” he growled at you as he ended his sentence with a hard thrust. “how pathetic and cock-hungry you must be. such a fucking whore.” you whined at his words, not being able to say anything because it was true. you were a cock-hungry whore for him, and you loved how he was fucking you with pent-up anger and frustration.

he squeezed your hips tighter, all the accumulated fluids in between you making lewd squelching sounds as you neared your orgasm once again. “to–tooru, fuck!” you screamed, cunt clenching as his cock hit your sweet and sensitive spot, walls fluttering around him.

“cum for me, whore,” he growled as he lowered his head to bite your neck. you came with a scream as you left red lines on his shoulders. his thrusts slowed down as he set your shaking legs down to the floor. he was still inside of you as he leaned his forehead down to yours, eyes closed as a drop of sweat fell from his hairline. his defined chest heaved as he fought to catch his breaths.

he carried you back to the bed with his cock still inside you. you thought he was going to pull out until he grabbed your limp legs and put them on his shoulders. you moaned at the new position, weakly trying to push him away because you were so tired. “n-no more tooru, t-too sensitive!” you weakly protested, hands trying to push yourself away from him.

“i think your dirty cunt can give me one more orgasm, hm? can you be a good whore and do that for me?” he cooed at you, thumbs slightly rubbing your ankles. you softly nodded at him, enamored by his sparkling brown eyes, or were you just drunk on his cum and musky scent? either way, his cock was too good to deny, even if your pussy was already close to being numb.

he smiled devilishly at you, he hugged your legs closer to his body as he started thrusting once more. you were practically incoherent, mouth sputtering unintelligible words and high pitched whines as oikawa rode your pussy. he let one leg fall off his shoulder as he gripped the headboard, mattress squeaking from his deep thrusts.

you watched as a drop of sweat fell from his neck and travelled down his chest and abdomen to mix with your joined bodies. you were so wet and slick down there that every thrust oikawa made only served to make your pussy throb and pulse around him more. you were moaning with reckless abandon, uncaring of the people that were watching your bruised cunt getting relentlessly fucked, only caring to climax one final time just so tooru would let you go and pass out on his bed.

oikawa was thrusting so hard and fast that the headboard was banging against the wall, with your breasts bouncing up and down along with it. you could tell that he too was at his limit, judging by how his thrusts became sloppier and erratic and his moans increasing in volume and pitch.

“t-tooru, g-gonna cum, please,” you said, he groaned as he brought down his arm from the headboard and played with your clit, pinching it with his fingers, making you scream and arch your back as you squirted all around him. he came with a loud moan as he saw the clear liquid shoot out from your pussy, drenching his abdomen. “fuck, did you just squirt?” he breathed in amazement, eyes widened and mouth dropped.

he set your leg down and pulled out as he watched your mixed fluids trickle out of your cunt. you were too fucked out to care as he played with your pussy, your mouth open and eyes drooping as you breathed loudly and heavily. he was pushing the mixed cum back inside your filthy cunt when you heard the door swing open to reveal your three voyeurs, all with tented cocks stretching the front of their pants.

“shit, oikawa. you actually fucked her dumb,” mattsun said in fascination, watching your chest heave up and down. makki hummed in agreement while iwaizumi just stared at your dripping cunt, watching your cum and tooru’s trickling out of your pussy and sliding down your ass, staining the sheets. you shivered at their stares and brought your hand to spread your folds, making them see your filthy pussy better. you smirked lazily as you heard the men in the room groan in unison while you swirled your finger, playing with the cum in your cunt.

“you got room for three more cocks, baby?” mattsun taunted you, three of them entering the room and standing at the foot of the bed. your smirk dropped as you watched iwaizumi take his shirt off, leaning your head back on the pillow as you moaned tiredly, your battered pussy quivering at the thought of more cocks making a mess of your cunt.

needless to say, you and oikawa didn’t get any work done on the project that night.

[9:21 PM]

[glowinggator]

It's Tradition, After All.

Request: if you’re taking holiday requests, I’d love a mistletoe scene with Leo or headcanons with all the turtles, whatever you feel like writing! :) happy holidays! 🎄💗

Pairings:

Raphael/Reader (Crush) Leonardo/Reader (Crush) Donatello/Reader (Crush) Michelangelo/Reader (Crush)

Content Warnings: General Christmas stuff, talk of parties, but otherwise none!

Word Count: 1662

Raphael:

Very, very nervous around mistletoe. It’s not that he doesn’t want to kiss you — the exact opposite, actually! It’s just that he’s never really been under one, and while he certainly knows how to kiss… he worries that he’s gonna mess it up somehow. He knows he isn’t your “typical” guy, and his heart would absolutely shatter at your rejection. But he really does love the tradition deep down, and he can’t help but fantasize about it just a tad. He’s still a nervous wreck, but that doesn’t stop him from staying by your side during the Christmas party. He’s not gonna let a plant ruin his night!

(He probably gave himself a pep-talk in the bathroom. He might have also thrown hands with one of the plants.)

He stays pretty close to you, sipping on cocoa while you guys talk about anything and everything. For the most part, it just seems like a normal night. But you can tell that he gets nervous whenever the two of you walk close to the hanging plant. He stumbles over his words, hands clenching and unclenching as though trying to work up courage.

When the time does come though? It’s completely unexpected. He rubs the back of his neck, smiling with a nervous laugh and a tilt of his head. He won’t deny you, not by any means. But he’s so nervous that he actually forgets to lean down, and kind of waits for your signal.

The kiss is sweet. The taste of chocolate lingers on his lips, but that’s not the sweet part — it’s the pure softness in the way he presses into you, the way his large and inhuman hands come to cradle your jawline like you’re made of glass, and the way he seems to melt into you over the few seconds you’re pressed together. He smiles when you part, so kind and so sweet, with a quiet and giddy laugh weaving its way into his breaths. He can’t help but close the gap once more, neither of you ever wanting this moment to end.

He’s glued to your side for the rest of the night, secretly hoping that the two of you will find your way under the plant again.

Leonardo:

He and Mikey were the ones who set up the mistletoe, actually. He has this air of confidence around him when it comes to the plant, but honestly? He’s a little bit nervous. He’s such a romantic at heart, but he secretly worries that something will go wrong. Maybe it won’t be the right time, or just maybe… you won’t want to actually kiss him. He loves you a lot, both romantically and platonically, and he doesn’t want to risk losing you. But he covers that up well and pushes through it — nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

He always seems to be right under the mistletoe at the perfect time. Checking his phone, searching for something that dropped, etc. But unfortunately for him, you always seem to be needed just at that moment. He eventually realizes that his brothers are messing with him, and Leo starts sticking by your side as a way to foolproof it. Going to get another drink? He’ll come with you!

When the time comes, he can feel his heart hammering in his chest, taking over his senses. But when he sees your thinly-veiled, giddy smile, he’s nothing but confidence. It’s tradition, right? If you’re caught under the mistletoe together, you simply have to kiss — it’s pretty much the law, after all.

His kiss leaves you wanting more, and more, and more. You’d happily drown in him, with the way he smiles so gently into the kiss, how his hands are so rough yet tender against your skin, and it’s everything you could have ever wanted and yet more than you ever expected. The taste of peppermint lingers on his lips, and when you part, you find yourself following him for just one more kiss.

He sticks by your side for the rest of the night, although that’s never been unusual for him. And if he keeps trying to guide you toward the kitchen — and back into the path of that little white plant — to put another drop or two of cocoa into his mug, you won’t chastise him.

Donatello:

If you ever asked him directly, he’d say that he hates mistletoe. It’s an old, boring tradition, and he doesn’t get why people think it’s so cute. But it’s secretly one of his favorite parts of Christmas, the biggest thing he waits for every year. After all, he’s been trying to find his way under one just to get a kiss from you. And he certainly hasn’t been waiting all this time because he’s nervous or anything — he’s Donatello Hamato! He’s never been nervous about anything, clearly not. He won’t admit any of this of course, but it’s true all the same. He’s terrified that you’ll reject him, that he’ll expose the most vulnerable part of his soul only to be rejected. Every time he sees you under the plant he hypes himself up to pass by and then… he doesn’t. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this nervous about anything, but God, he hates it. So in truth, he has a love-hate relationship with mistletoe.

He enjoys the main events of Christmas, but once more family and friends arrive, he’s a bit more content to hang out with you in his room. It’s loud, and he doesn’t really care or even like half the people anyways — seriously, who invited that honey badger? Don’t they know that honey badgers eat turtles? — so he prefers to hang out with you, instead. You two goof around together, probably playing the newest addition to your shared game collection, and he realizes that he’d gladly spend the rest of his life by your side. You two only leave the lab when it’s time to get another glass of something, and that’s when it happens.

Someone had taped a sprig of mistletoe to the doorframe. He notices it immediately — how could he not? He’s been so hyper aware of the damn plant since Leo and Mikey started putting it up earlier this month, so it sticks out to him like a fire in the dead of night. He freezes, swallowing, and tilts his head this way and that. He doesn’t let his nervousness show, but he’s half sure you can hear his heart beating out of his chest. He’s casual in his words, but he’s deathly still. He turns to look at you with half-lidded eyes, pointing blankly at the plant above. But when he notices the excitement in your smile, and the way you seem to fluster just a bit when you nod, his trademark confidence returns.

The kiss is soft for just a second- lips hesitant against yours, nothing more than feather light and he pulls away for a second, breath shaky against your lips, and then he’s back for more. His hands circle around your wrists, placing them against his plastron with a firm grip as though he feared you’d disappear if he wasn’t holding you. It’s like everything he’s ever felt is being poured into this kiss, this brief union between the two of you. You press yourself into him, kissing back with so much love and adoration, in hopes that he feels everything you’ve ever wanted to tell him.

If he’s a bit more cuddly tonight, then you don’t mention it. And if you press yourself into his hold just a bit more, he doesn’t mention it either. After all, words are nothing compared to what was shared just moments before.

Michelangelo

He and Leo were the ones who set it up, and it couldn’t be more obvious. It’s a cute idea, and he loves the concept of confessing your feelings under the plant. He’s a romantic at heart, and he can’t help the butterflies that bubble in his chest when he really thinks about getting caught under the mistletoe with you. But unlike Leo, he won’t try and lure you under the plant — he wants it to be organic.

Once all the extended friends and family arrive, he flitters around from group to group. Making sure everyone is having a good time, has enough snacks, etc. What can he say? He’s a social butterfly! In all reality, you probably start helping him out as well, carrying drinks and sweets out into the living room for everyone to enjoy.

Eventually the two of you pass by each other to get into the kitchen, and that’s when it happens. You’re caught under the mistletoe with Michelangelo Hamato himself. You’re more nervous than he is, but when you see his shining smile, your fears quite literally melt away. It’s a meet-halfway type of kiss, the type where both of you are just so eager to meet that all your worries are cast to the side. Mikey is a man of pure sunshine, and it shows itself in the way he smiles into the kiss, leaning into you and pulling you to him in equal measure. It’s pure gravity between you two, pure adoration for one another keeping you together. And just as the sun is warm and loving, he’s equal parts fiery. He can’t help but tug ever so slightly at your lips, and while you giggle, you can’t help the way your breathing deepens or the way your heart seems to leap into your chest.

You can’t tell if seconds, minutes, or hours have passed, but when you part it takes everything to keep yourself from diving in for more. Needless to say, he feels the same way.

He’s a bit more clingy during the rest of the party, reaching his hand out towards you when you pass and spinning you around playfully. He certainly double-downs on all his playful petnames, confidence in them soaring now that he knows you feel the same.

[mercurygguk]

what a man gotta do? | kth

genre; established relationship au, fluff

pairing; kim taehyung x female reader

summary; what a man gotta do when his girlfriend is insanely adorable when she’s drunk and doesn’t take no for an answer?

word count; 2,488

warnings; mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of swearing, just soft tae and oc being a cute ass couple that i really adore

a/n; saw a text quote on tumblr, my brain popped an idea. this is it. also, i know nothing about gaming, so if anything i’ve written doesn’t make sense, just ignore it lol. please love it a lot and enjoy!! ps. please tell me what you think, thanks x

There is something so oddly pleasing about having the entire apartment to oneself on a Friday evening. Taehyung has been looking forward to this evening for a week and it is finally here. An entire evening for himself with his gaming console, his friends in his headphones and a big bowl of popcorn beside him. It’s quiet in the apartment as he sets up his gaming spot, fluffing the pillows and setting them up nicely on the couch so he can sit comfortably for the next many hours of nonstop gaming with his bestest friends.

The reason for his night alone is because his girlfriend’s (you) best friend just got promoted to a higher rank in the law firm she works at. She then went on to invite all her friends out for drinks which, of course, included you. Taehyung had fought to keep in his excitement when you had told him of your plans a week ago. You had eyed him down then, noticing the small exciting smile forming on his lips as he listened to your words carefully as if he actually cared. He was just overly excited to finally be able to have a gaming night without interruptions. And it’s not that he wants to sound ungrateful or like he enjoyed that you weren’t at home. He loved spending his Friday nights cuddled up with you, hell, that was his favorite Friday nights. But he’s only a boy, really. And a boy has needs. Gaming needs.

So he walks to the kitchen with a pep in his step as the microwave finishes with a loud ping! He pours the popcorn into a bowl and heads back to the couch where his gaming spot has been set up to perfection, everything in place and ready for him to have a relaxing night of games. He sits back in the mountain of pillows, sighing in content as he places the popcorn beside him before grabbing his headset. He sets it atop of his head, checking the sound and mic. Seconds later there’s an incoming call from his group of friends. 

He picks up with a grin on his face. “Hey guys!”

Seokjin gasps from the other end. “What the hell? Got a night off from the wife?”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, a small smile on his lips. “She’s out for drinks,” he explains, “best friend got promoted.”

“Em got promoted?” Jimin then asks, just now hearing about the news of his long-time crush.

A smirk appears on Taehyung’s face. “Yeah, like a week ago. She didn’t tell you?”

Jimin falls silent at his question. Taehyung wants to tell his best friend to get out of his misery and just ask the girl out. He’s a hundred percent sure she’d say yes within a heartbeat. In fact, when Em is here visiting you and Taehyung, she talks about Jimin more often than she’d ever admit.

“Just ask her out already!” Seokjin groans annoyed, causing Jimin to tell him to ‘fuck off’. Taehyung grins, having missed gaming and talking with his friends like this. He saw them a few days ago in person which was nice too, but gaming with them is just so different and fun. It’s been a long time since he has had the opportunity to game for an entire night with Seokjin and Jimin.

“Well,” Taehyung captures the attention of his two best friends, “shall we get started?”

And that’s how the next three hours pass. There’s bickering, arguing because Seokjin didn’t manage to cover for Taehyung which caused Taehyung to get killed. “Come on, hyung! You were supposed to cover for me!”

Seokjin sighs deeply on the other end, calming his temper. “You think I’m a mind reader? How was I supposed to know you’d-”

Taehyung’s phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He pulls the phone from his pocket to look at the caller-id. Your photo flashes across his screen, the wide smile on your face on a snowy day in December. A photo Taehyung snapped one day before Christmas, a day you had dragged him outside and into the snow. The first snow in Seoul in years and you had been so happy that you couldn’t stop smiling, so Taehyung saw it fit to snap a photo of you with his vintage camera which he had brought along.

“Hyung, one second,” he cuts off Seokjin’s rambling, removing his headset to answer your call.

“Hey babe,” Taehyung greets who he thinks is you. He stills, confused as Em greets him back in a rather serious, tired-sounding tone. “Oh, hey Em, did something happen?”

Em sighs deeply. “____ is drunk off her ass. Can you come get her?”

Drunk of her ass? You haven’t been drunk off your ass in months, which is why you being drunk so drunk right now doesn’t come as a shock to him. It’s been a while since you went out drinking like you’ve done tonight, so your body has gotten used to not fighting alcohol. Taehyung runs a hand through his dark black hair, removing it from his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come by. Where you at?”

With the information from Em, he hangs up and grabs his headset to put it back on. “Hey, guys, I gotta go.”

Jimin sounds like an unsatisfied child as he whines. Taehyung can imagine the pout. “What? Why?”

“Em just called,” he tells his best friend, “____ is drunk as hell. I have to go get her.”

Jimin mutters an ‘oh’ and so does Seokjin. They tell each other goodbye before Taehyung is shutting off his gaming console and heading for the front door. He grabs a coat from the closet in the hallway, throwing it over the white t-shirt and the green unbuttoned flannel he’s wearing. He jumps into a pair of boots and grabs his keys before heading out of the apartment. 

“Shit,” he swears under his breath as he steps outside, into the cold air of January. He takes long strides towards his car, getting in and turning the key in the ignition. The heat is immediately turned on before he pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of the bar Em told him you’re at. “One night,” he mumbles lowly to himself as he slowly drives around the parking lot behind the bar to find an empty spot, “one freaking night.”

The bar is filled with people, some drunk and some just barely tipsy. The aura in there is happy, void of any worries these people might have on regular days. Taehyung skims the darkness of the bar, trying his best to spot you in the crowd. Soon enough his eyes zoom in on Em who’s waving at him. He glances to her right side, spotting you sitting there with your head resting on Em’s shoulder. You look like you’re passed out and Taehyung immediately finds himself worrying a bit more than he originally had. You never pass out, you just always end up being a slur who laughs a bit too much at anything you find funny in the moment.

“Hey,” Em greets Taehyung. He nods at her in a greeting as he stops in front of them, immediately squatting down to be at your level. He reaches out, brushing your hair out of your face. You look at him, eyes blank and unfocused as you take him in. Thank god, you’re not passed out, just closing your eyes for a few seconds for a short nap.

“Hi baby,” Taehyung coos, thumb brushing across your cheek. You smile sheepishly, a very soft and drunken smile. Your boyfriend has to stifle a laugh as you almost fall over as you sit up. He catches your shoulder with his warm palm, steadying you as he tries to catch your eyes with his own. “Wanna go home?”

You nod, not muttering a simple word other than a low hum as he helps you to your feet. You’re leaning against his chest, cuddling into the warmth of him as he talks to Em for a moment.

“Thanks for calling,” he tells her. 

Em nods with a grin and pats your shoulder as if to say goodbye. “Get her to bed,” she smirks, “she’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. He bids Em and your other friends goodbye before leaving the bar with you cuddled up against his chest. You’re stumbling alongside him, finding it rather difficult to stand on your own two feet.

“Baby,” Taehyung softly calls, “could you use your legs for a second? You’re way heavier when you’re not cooperating, you know?”

You mumble in response, nuzzling your body even closer to him. “I wuv y-you,” you hum, smiling with your eyes closed as you hug him tightly. The man holding you up can’t help but laugh at you, his heart swelling twice it’s size as you drunkenly confess how you feel for him. Even though he already knew that. Good thing it’s love confessions and not some other kind of confession that slips from your drunk mind.

Taehyung struggles to get you into the passenger seat but he manages. He helps you take a sip of the water bottle Em had gotten for you at the bar. Your head falls back against the headrest of the seat, eyes still closed and lips moving on in another round of mumbles and humming. Taehyung buckles you up before moving to his own seat behind the wheel. He glances at you as he ignites the car. You’re really a sight to see right now. Completely unfazed as you sit in a weird position in the passenger seat, your head lulling from side to side because you have absolutely no control over it at the moment.

“God, you’re drunk,” Taehyung sighs deeply, “let’s get you home.”

If Taehyung thought getting you in the passenger seat was hard, then he had another thing coming. Getting you out of the passenger, however, is a completely different ordeal and then getting you inside the apartment building and into the elevator was probably more exercise than Taehyung has ever done in one day. Ugh, he really hates going to the gym.

The front door is soon unlocked and you’re back home in the warmth of your shared apartment. After the elevator ride up, it’s almost as if you’ve sobered up again. You’re walking better, still holding onto Taehyung, but walking. You’re blabbering now, talking about how you and Em had tested who could drink the most shots in 30 seconds and who could chug a beer down the fastest. Taehyung listens with a small smile, shaking his head in amusement because this is so very much unlike you. But he’s happy you had fun with your friends.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the way I chugged down those shots,” you laugh, plopping down onto the couch as Taehyung kneels down to take off your shoes. “Em could not catch me at all!”

“I’m sure you were ace, baby,” Taehyung hums, grinning now because you’re way too cute when you’re drunk. He’s not even mad that you spoiled his gaming night because you’re too drunk to get home by yourself. This is a sight he would’ve hated to miss out on.

“My head hurts though,” you mumble, frowning. Taehyung matches your frown as he glances up at you while unclasping your heels from your feet.

Once your shoes are off, he gets back up. He cups your cheek, brushing a stray eyelash off it with the pad of his thumb. “Just gonna get a makeup wipe and some pills for your headache, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nod, smiling up at him. He pecks your forehead quickly before heading for the bathroom. Taehyung glances back at you to see you sitting there silently, wiggling your bare feet and hugging a pillow to your chest. He chuckles as he enters the bathroom to retrieve painkillers and a makeup wipe to clean your face. A few minutes after rummaging through the cabinets and the drawers, he exits the bathroom and heads back to you. He stops in his tracks when he notices you’re gone from your spot. He skims the living room, not finding you anywhere. What he does find though is something he hasn’t seen since he was like eight years old. Right there by the dining table behind the couch, you’re currently putting up a blanket fort, a wide grin on your face.

“Baby,” Taehyung catches your attention right away, “whatcha’ doing?”

You smile, looking back at the project you’ve started. “What does it look like I’m doing? It’s a blanket fort!”

Taehyung steps closer, nodding. “I can see that.”

It doesn’t take long for you to finish setting it up before you’re grabbing pillows from the couch, throwing them inside the blanket fort. You’re way too good at this. Something tells Taehyung that you’ve made a lot of these as a child. You emerge from the fort to motion at him, beckoning him to join you. “Come on,” you insist.

Your boyfriend looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind, when really, you’re just tipsy as hell. “____, shouldn’t we just go to bed? I mean, this is-”

“Just get in the fucking blanket fort.” 

Taehyung’s eyes widen as you stare back at him with hard eyes. “Alright,” he puts his hands up in surrender, painkillers in one and a makeup wipe in the other, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

The hard stare turns into a wide, content smile and Taehyung seriously thinks he’ll get a whiplash from how fast you can switch between facial expressions. You’re already inside the blanket fort when Taehyung stands in front of the opening to it. He squats down, looking inside. It did look insanely inviting and cozy in there. You pat the spot next to you on the blanket, still smiling. Taehyung sighs as he knows you won’t give up until he’s inside your blanket fort. You really don’t take no for an answer.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” Taehyung shakes his head before crawling inside the fort, plopping down beside you. You lay on your side facing him with a grin. “I haven’t been in a blanket fort since I was eight.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Then we must make blanket forts more often.”

[katsukikitten]

Hello friends! Here is my contribution to the Bakugou Birthday Bash! The master link will be linked here ! Please enjoy my bit of an angsty fic! And all of the other art and works that are on the master list! Enjoy the big bakugou blow out and remember to leave a comment on your favorite pieces! Happy birthday ya shitty man! (Lowkey become 3d please)

Warning: he's 28 btw 😂 (my fic says so also)

It shouldn't be this fucking hard to get groceries and booze. It's a quick and easy errand. Everything already pre-ordered for an important birthday that just needed to be picked up. And yet here you were crying in your car trying to get it together before the attendant asked for the order name. Honestly you had texted out "I can't do this today. Sorry." Several times before deleting it, telling yourself not to hit send. But you would have to be having the worst mental day of your life wouldn't you? Today of all days, how fucking selfish of you.

Especially with the amount of time and effort you and Kirishima had put into this idea. Since New Year's actually, months and months of planning after the two of you had gotten shit faced at Denki and Mina's new years party, creating the brain child. All after bonding over switching patrol partners six months before, you had gotten Bakugou and he had gotten Ashido. Kirishima and yourself giggle over stupid things to the side of the party, people watching as you took shots. Kirishima points towards a normally grumpy blonde.

"Wow I think he's actually having fun." You snort, as you watch Bakugou hide his rare cat smile behind a sip of his beer as Mina makes Denki the butt of a joke.

"He actually loves parties. He never says it so people just think he's a wet blanket." Kirishima laughs, pouring the two of you another shot. Bakugou lets out a particularly loud laugh after 'Dunce Face' proves Mina's point. I guess that would be the time that it started.

When you started to fall. His laugh makes your cheeks deepen in hue and burn, to want to hear it again, to watch it again and learn all of the other sides of your patrol partner that he obviously only reserved for his closest friends.

"Let's throw him a great birthday party." You say, holding up your shot as a devilish smile spreads over sharp teeth. The mountainous man clinks your shot glass before he adds.

"Let's." In unison the two of you down the burning liquid as the plan comes into fruition.

Four months, four months and nineteen days of you thinking of nothing but your patrol partner with whom you got extremely close with since New Year's. So why? Why today of all days were you struggling? Why would normal everyday tasks feel more as if you were wading through mud than the breeze they should have been? You flip down the visor, looking yourself in the eye through little square mirror as you grit your teeth hissing

"Get your shit together."

Your little pep talk helps you get the several cakes and the cart full of booze that everyone requested, planning to make this the best birthday ever. Helping Kirishima set his house up with decorations, setting out the snacks, catering and even pouring some drinks as guests began to arrive to set down their gifts and help with the last minute touches before hiding. Masking through the pit in your stomach as you smiled at all of your friends as they poured in through Kirishima's door. Through the weighted emptiness you felt as each one wrapped you into a tight hug, already praising you and Kirishima for the amazing effort, that Bakugou would be so surprised when it was more than just you and Kirishima here. . Finally you had to go and get the guest of honor just before sundown to catch him before he went to bed. A much needed breather from the constant smiling and forcing a laugh that everyone thought sounded genuine.

Enjoying the silence of the evening train as it pulled you across town to the unsuspecting blonde. And maybe you could have made it through the night from your shitty pep talk or at least through getting the freshly 28 year old to his party but instead you catch your reflection in the window. Your facial features weighted with exhaustion, shoulders hunched allowing your body to continue to produce cortisol. Tears prick your eyes as you deep low, too low. Remembering everything and nothing all at once, steeping in guilt as you beg yourself for just a few more hours. That the depression episode can happen when you're home and alone, after the party goes off without a hitch. Tears fall anyway and they do all the way to Bakugou's until you finally get enough control to step out of yourself for a moment. Ringing the doorbell several times as a smile is plastered on your face, the door swings open. Bakugou's eyes narrow as they take you in, he notices that something is off. Your smile is a little too wide, your eyes rimmed red but he says nothing about it. Instead he lets his initial anger come forth.

"Oi! I told you to fuckin' text me when you were on the train so I could meet you at the station!" He growls, slamming his door shut and pocketing his keys. Deadly and sweaty hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket as his palms itch to hold onto something else. Garnet eyes track your own hands as you reach over your head stretching.

"Yea yea, I hear you Dad." You tease giving him a look, "I still made it okay."

"Kirishima should have come instead of you that fuckin hair for brains." He snarls keeping pace with you as he always does on patrol.

"I know Dad must be sad cause his favorite didn't come to pick him up." You try not to sound dejected, nudging him in the ribs to distract from the crack in your voice, "Happy birthday ya big lug."

Bakugou cuts you a glare, mind racing before his barks out a "Thanks."

Comfortable silence stretches between the two of you before you two hit the train station, passing a corner store.

"Was shitty hair burning dinner? Do I need to stop for back up?" His thumb hooks over his shoulder towards the neon as he stands idle waiting for you to jog your memory. Kirishima had burned the last friend's dinner making Bakugou so angry he walked six blocks to make something that was 'FUCKIN EDIBLE!' while you tried to air out his apartment. You laugh loudly, genuinely for the first time that day causing Bakugou's shoulders to sag with relief. In the ten months he had been working with you he had only seen you faking a smile or laugh once or twice. Then the time after that you were absent from work the next day or two forcing him to patrol with Denki but worse yet...making him worry.

"Guess I'll grab something just in case." He gave you his back so you wouldn't see his face or the faint blush that dusted his cheeks.

"No, no! I ordered out this time. From that famous chef you like." Bakugou glares your way, digging in his back pocket for his wallet.

"How much." He demands through gritted teeth while you show him the palms of your hands in surrender.

"Woah woah! It's your birthday gift! You can't pay me back for dinner! I'd sooner burn the money before I'd accept it from you!" Your watch dings with a message from Kirishima asking for an ETA. You grab onto Bakugou's hand pulling him along into a run as you shout over your shoulder.

"We're gonna be late!"

Oh how Bakugou wished you hadn't done that, he was already struggling to keep his heart beat even when you were around and now to grab onto him. To pull him along in a hurry like those cheesy insta posts that couples did on their "grand adventure" together. He swallows the lump in his throat as he reminds himself that you are nothing more than his patrol partner. His friend at best.

Even though the train was mostly empty Bakugou stood closely by you, as he always did when the two of you were in a crowded space. He had seen how most men took advantage of the situation and he hated the idea of that happening to you although he knew you were more than capable of handling it on your own. Hell you could kick even his ass but he would die before ever admitting that. Instead he watches you talk about what you ordered for dinner and how you got the cake from that bakery Sato works part time at, the same one he got your birthday cake from but he doesn't hear a word. Instead all he can see is the golden light from the setting sun worshiping you. Kissing your skin to make it glow, giving your eyes a hue that makes his heart fall into his stomach and illuminating you in a true light. A radiant ethereal thing is what you were and Bakugou was just lucky enough to be standing by you. So out of it he doesn't realize the two of you are at your stop.

"Uh Suki?" Your voice is soft paired with the setting sun has him acting weird. He leans closer to you, pulled by some invisible force before he stops himself as he watches you look up at him beneath long lashes.

"You okay?" You ask almost nervously from his proximity, the smell of spice and caramel wrap around you making you feel warm and fuzzy. Temporarily making you forget that you were trying to act on the train, making you relax as you just talked to Bakugou. He sucks his teeth as he picks up your bag to sling over his shoulder.

"Yea but you were gonna forget your whole damn purse like you always do." He huffs, this time he was the one pulling at your hand in a rush before the doors closed to trap you two on the train. His hand feels warm in yours, his grip tight as he drags you along before pulling you within his sight, another habit of his you happened to notice. Almost reluctantly he lets go of you hand as Kirishima's house comes into view.

"We better have a good time tonight patrol Princess or you owe me a special birthday gift." He laughs causing you to roll your eyes at his stupid nickname that stuck after your first day with him, adamant that the two of you take your route instead of his it was a huge argument. But it was a good thing he listened to the "princess", it put the two of you smack dab in the middle of a robbery. You stick out your tongue.

"Trust me. You're gonna have a good time!" You push him up the steps as he bats away your hands. Opening the front door before everyone jumps out of various and bad hiding spots.

"SURPRISE!!" All of the alumni of class A and some of B shout, a select few already slurring their words. Bakugou's scowl turns into a smirk before he looks over his shoulder at you.

"Aw you did this to me?" His voice is teasing but his eyes almost sparkle, you nod encouraging him to go deeper into the party. As he does people flock to him laughing and yelling out happy birthday until he's sick of hearing it. All the while your smile wanes with the night. Until an hour in that heavy episode hits you full force. Numbness setting in where happiness should be, rotting as it turns to shame and guilt as you watch your friend, your crush, enjoy his night. Bringing a glass bottle to his lips as he talks with Kirishima, who then presses a shot into his hands. Bodies dancing to the house music that beat out of the speakers competing with chatter and laughter.

It felt weird to watch everyone truly enjoying themselves while you felt low. It felt more as if you were standing outside of the house, looking in through the window to see everyone enjoying themselves, no one even knowing who you were as you stared in.

You felt distant, alone. What a shitty way to feel in a room full of people, none of it being their fault and so the guilt pressed harder. Eyes watering as they lingered on the blonde who deserved this celebration and more. Making you decide to give the best birthday gift of them all.

To slip away upstairs and onto the roof, to give the room space to breathe when you felt like suffocating.

Crying to no one but the moon.

And no one noticed. Two hours slip by before Kirishima insists that Bakugou make a wish and eat cake before everyone gets too drunk too. The entire house drunkenly sings happy birthday but Bakugou notices a voice missing. Yours that's just a touch off key, not to mention he didn't hear you say the stupid nickname 'Suki' where his name should be in the song. Plus you weren't one to miss out on dessert. For as long as Bakugou has been working with you, you never turned down the opportunity for sweets. Whether that was taking the long way back to the agency to try to catch a certain street vendor or to hover by the deserts at a party to pick the very best treat.

And if it was a birthday party, you never could shut up that y'all could not leave until after they blew out the candles and made a wish.

His eyes linger for a second longer, making sure he didn't miss you before his heart sinks. He takes in a sharp inhale, thinks on his wish and blows out the candles.

Meanwhile you hear the cheers of everyone down stairs and sob into your knees. You missed your favorite part of birthdays. Of hoping they make a wish that comes true, of watching their face as they think of something quickly or how some people tear up when they finally realize just how loved they are on their birthday.

It isn't long after that do you hear the sound of combat boots on shingles. Whipping your head up in the direction of the sound. Stomach clenching with guilt as you watch Bakugou walking towards you with a slice of cake.

"Brought ya some cake, since I didn't hear you sing off key to me." He says sinking down beside you as you furiously wipe at your tears.

"I'm-um."

"You don't gotta explain yourself to me." He snarls as you stare dumbly at your cake, "You know that."

"I know…" Silence passes slowly, the moon shines overhead and the party carries on below.

"Well, I'm waiting!" Bakugou says dramatically, "You gonna sing or am I gonna have to sing to myself?"

"Oh." It makes you giggle a bit before you blush, realizing he is serious. You take a deep breath before singing "just off key" when you don't, to him.

"Sukiiiiii!" Relief washes over his features when he hears the dumb ass name, "Happy birthday to youuuuuu!"

"Okay, now you can eat the damn cake." He grunts, his smile never wavering as he looks to the empty street below. You follow his eyes, chewing the inside of your lip, setting the cake down.

"What'd you wish for…" Curiosity gets the better of you and earns his intense gaze. He smirks, scoffing at the end.

"You always say you shouldn't tell or it won't come true." He laughs at your pout, before he finally admits "I wished for courage."

With a furrowed brow you give him a puzzled look, he just holds your gaze.

"Why? You're like the bravest hero I know!" Bakugou can hear the truth in your voice, you aren't saying it just to fucking stroke his ego.

You actually meant it, making this conversation that much harder.

"Yea except when it comes to this one thing I want to do. Its fuckin easy and I've done it hundreds of times just as I'm about to do it I fucking back down cause I'm probably fuckin reading into things too much." He leans in closer, again his smell mesmerizes you, causing your body to visibly relax, "Too much of a fuckin bitch, thinking she doesn't want me like I want her. So I wished for the courage to follow through. To fuckin' just do it."

Your heart is racing out of your chest before one of his hands finds the nape of your neck pulling you into a feverish kiss. Teeth gnashing from the passion, lips perfectly modeling to the other before tongues lightly dance around one another. Lengthening seconds into hours with just a few head tilts and plush lips. You moan into his mouth, he pulls away, eyes clouded with lust as a string of spit connects your tongues. He pants, face flushed and his hand warm, almost burning at the nape of your neck, the shingle by his hand charred from restraint as he pants out.

"I wished for you."

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (4): Equality Statement (Fem!Reader x Naoya Zenin, 7.5k)

series synopsis: you are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. gojo, unfortunately, does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: you make the mistake of crossing naoya zenin at a sports festival and are forced to apologise. but as you well know by now, nothing ever seems to go to plan where any of your student’s fathers are concerned. 

NSFW. MINORS DNI. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. misogyny, weird power dynamics, hate-sex, piv sex, blowjobs. naoya.  

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)   ♡  (jujutsu kaisen masterlist)

1.

The Saturday morning that your first ever undokai is scheduled for dawns bright and early, and you can’t help the little thrill that goes through you at the golden fingers of dawn lighting up your room. There’d been talk of the weekend bringing rain, and things needing to be rescheduled – but it’s perfect weather, as you put on a comfortable tank top and shorts instead of your neat pencil skirt and suit jacket combination.

This will be your first event of the kind, and you’re excited about it. The kids in the class have been practising all of their cheers and routines and the like constantly, whilst the ones involved in the competitive sports have been cheering one another on and snatching time when they can to race against one another in preparation. It’s been nice to see all of the camaraderie between them – even some of the quieter ones have seemed to come a little bit out of their shell, with so much team spirit in the air.

Well. Most of them have. You’ve noticed Junpei still hanging back, face sad, uncomfortable when other boys crowd him and tug him off to who knows where – probably to get him involved in their own practises or rehearsals.

It’s been long and hard preparing for it, but even Gojo has been focused on something for once.

“There’s just something about events like this!” Gojo chirped to you, once, as he’d held up a megaphone he did not really need and called his class back into formation in front of him. “You know! The joy of youth! I want them to have the best time possible! They deserve it.”

Seeing Gojo’s mischievous eyes sparkle with determination instead of humour had made you smile at him, and you’d felt a strange pull in your chest when he’d smiled back, needing to pull your gaze away to ask Yuuji to stop poking Megumi in the back to get him to look at a weird caterpillar he’d found on the ground.

As a junior high undokai, things are a little more competitive than they might be if this were an elementary school or even a middle school event, but there’s still a big emphasis on the teamwork and the cheering on portion of the day. You’ve watched and applauded what feels like a hundred practises for the cheering section, confiscating whistles when they’re sneakily blown whilst you’re trying to teach a mathematics lesson.

Still, you’re not surprised to see that Gojo’s class have been corralled into his classroom whilst your vivacious teacher and mentor gives them a rallying encouragement that seems to contain a lot of bigging up the fact that they are, in fact, his class.

“I thought the pep talk was for them,” you say, as heads turn to you when you walk into the room. It’s strange to see all of the faces dressed in their gym uniforms instead of their school uniforms – and it’s even stranger to be wearing an approximation of it yourself.

“You look nice!” Yuji pipes up, and you smile at him.

“It is for them,” Gojo brings a hand to his sunglasses to push them down a little, giving you a charming smile and the full force of the galaxies swirling in his eyes. “I’m just reminding them that as Satoru Gojo’s class, of course they’re going to do well! We’re going to be the strongest, and win!” He looks at all of them – bright shining faces turned to him, all lit up with the excitement of competition. There’s something in him that you rarely see right now – something encouraging and bright and compassionate. He genuinely seems to want them to do well. “I believe in all of you!”

The warmth spreading through your chest at Gojo’s words is a new experience. You’re far more used to exasperation and frustration where he’s concerned.

But now, you can’t help the infectious smiles of the children and the determination in their face to do well enough for everyone to be proud of. Maybe Gojo isn’t so bad after all, you think, as he bids the children in the class farewell and tells them to go and join everyone else outside in preparation for the day’s events.

“What d’you think?” He asks you, as Junpei leaves the room, still dragging his feet a little. You can’t blame him. He’s involved in the cheering section, as so many of the less athletic kids are, but the undokai is not optional and you think that Junpei is the kind of boy who hates being looked at. “Are we gonna win?”

“I don’t think that’s quite the point of the exercise,” you say, eventually. “We’re supposed to be fostering team spirit and co-operation--”

“Yeah,” Gojo wrinkles his nose and grins. “But we’re still gonna win, right?”

You sigh.

“With Yuji and Maki? Probably. But that’s not the point!”

Gojo stands up and stretches his arms out above him. He’s in a shirt that clings tight to a surprisingly muscled abdomen,  and dark grey sweatpants. He’s never been the ‘formal wear’ kind of teacher, but it’s still jarring to see him dressed so casually �� and even more jarring to realise that he’s handsome, despite the fact you’ve spent most of the last few months rolling your eyes and sighing and cursing the world that you’ve ended up having to endure Satoru Gojo so much.

“I know, I know – but it’s nice to think about, right?” His grin is infectious. “Did you have time to have breakfast this morning? I know it’s an earlier start than usual, I’ve got a spare blueberry muffin in my bag – hope it didn’t get crushed too badly by my stretches--”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, already dreading the idea of him pressing a crumbled muffin into your hand. “I had a healthy, nutritious breakfast.”

“So did I!” He says, hotly. “The blueberry muffin had fruit in it, croissants are glazed with egg so that’s protein, and I had a slice of honey on toast too just because I felt like I’d have to keep my energy up today--”

You are constantly impressed by how he manages to consume all of this sugar without going into overdrive – then again, maybe that does explain a lot about him.

“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing today,” you admit to him. “I mean, I know I’m here to cheer on the kids and stuff, but I don’t know what my role’s supposed to be--”

“Oh!” He comes around and begins to walk out of the classroom, beckoning you to follow him. “Didn’t I tell you? They told me ages ago--” He did not tell you. You don’t know why you find this a surprise. “You’re gonna be in charge of the refreshments table for the first half of the morning – Yuta, you know, the other teacher’s aid, he’ll relieve you for the second half so you can cheer us on and help me a bit. Not that I’ll need it! It’s not a hard job, just be polite to anyone who needs to use it, most of ‘em bring their own lunches and snacks but we find that it’s always good to have a table with some extras – especially when it’s so hot outside!”

“You didn’t,” you say, but you follow him anyway. You have learnt by now that the most you’ll get from Gojo is a shrug and an airy ‘sorry’. And you suppose, in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t so bad. It’s not like you needed to have time to stop and prepare yourself to give people a polite smile and ask them if they’d like you to pour them a glass of water.

The two of you spill out into the grounds of the school, which is already full of excited students and proud parents. You recognise a few of them – your face heats up as you see Nanami forcibly pressing a bottle of sunscreen into Yuji’s hands, and as the two of you walk past Geto who is tying back Mimiko and Nanako’s hair, ensuring the team hats that the students are all wearing sit neatly on their heads.

There’s a man stood with Maki and Mai who you assume is their father; a blond with a sneering face and a presence that makes you feel like you shouldn’t even be looking at him. Maki has her arms crossed, her chin jutting forward – the two of them are clearly involved in some kind of argument. Even as you watch, some other men are walking towards him with their heads bowed, like he’s something special.

You vaguely recall that you’ve heard some tell about the Zenins being a very rich, very old, very respected family. Judging from the way he carries himself and the way people keep looking at him, you think that must be it.

“Is that Maki and Mai’s dad?” You ask, curiously, as you’re pushed past him towards a collection of tables beneath a bright yellow awning. Gojo makes a noise that sounds like a sigh.

“Yep,” he says, sounding short. There’s some kind of history there, you think. “That’s Naoya Zenin. Better for you to avoid him, if you can – he’s not the kind of guy you want to cross, y’know?”

“But Maki’s--”

“Absolutely nothing like him,” Gojo deposits you in front of a table heaped with water jugs, ice cubes and plastic cups. “Really.”

You wrinkle your nose as you look around. At least everyone else seems happy – excited, buzzing with energy and the promise of an exciting day ahead. You can’t help but worry about Maki’s expression, though. She had looked like her and her father were having an argument that had been going on for months--

Gojo waves at you as he jogs across the field, moving surprisingly quickly for a man who ate nothing but sugar for his breakfast. You watch him go, unable to stop a smile forming on your face as he pauses by Maki and Mai. He slaps a hand onto Maki’s shoulder and says something with a bright grin that she seems to respond to with a smile, turning to follow him. Her father’s eyes narrow, as he spits something that even you can work out is venomous at the retreating backs of one of his daughters. He sighs as he says something else to Mai, a smile almost tugging at the corners of his mouth as his attention shifts back to her.

It’s clear who the golden child is there, then.

You try and shake your thoughts away from Naoya Zenin and his two girls and concentrate on the place that you’ve been given, reminding yourself that even if it doesn’t seem like a big role, you all have to work hard to make sure that today is a success. Your students have been practising and getting excited for this event for weeks, and you want all of the parents to be as proud of their students as you are.

You have a good view from the refreshments table of everything that’s going on. You watch a few of the races, a few cheering displays from the other classes to the beat of the drums – and when kids run up to you, sweaty and panting, you hand them a plastic cup full of cool water and they thank you as if you harvested it from a spring yourself instead of merely pouring it out.

Some parents ask you politely who you are, and you tell them with a smile and a bright look, hoping that you being friendly and polite will get back to other people. A few of them exchange looks when they hear that you’re attached to Gojo’s class; the man has a reputation that follows him everywhere. You give out oranges and other pieces of fruit to some of the students who need an extra sugar boost, or the ones who have a bandage wrapped around their knee or grazes from falls that have recently been cleaned. Shoko is busy today, and you often see her direct these injured children to you as a rest stop, and so their parents can find them easily.

You pause for a moment as the names are called for a relay race, and you hear Maki and Mai being summoned. This is the first race that they’re taking part in – if their team wins this one, they’ll qualify for the final this afternoon. You can see Gojo lifting his arms and hollering and hear his loud, excited voice even with all of the other people crowding into the school grounds to watch, and despite yourself you feel a smile spread over your face.

You’re still smiling when you hear a scoff.

You turn around to see what the fuss is – only to see Naoya Zenin, holding a plastic cup of water as if it’s offended him mortally. Seeing you looking at him, his lip curls.

“Is this tap water?” He asks you. He has a curious accent; slow, drawling, and clearly much superior to your own. It’s not an accent that Maki and Mai have inherited – and as he raises one eyebrow, the sun catching the rings in his ears, you find yourself glad of it. “Well?”

“I think so,” you say. You are on edge. He peers into it, and sighs.

“Don’t you have anything better? Cell-gen or Tennensui or even I LOHAS, at least?” He speaks to you slowly, like you’re a child, or as if he’s not sure whether a peasant like you would even know the names of any bottled water brands. You can’t stand being talked down to, and you curl your hand into a fist as you say, trying to keep yourself polite;

“I’m sorry, Sir. There’s just this.”

“You’d think with the money pumped in-- fine.” He sighs, taking a sip of the water, his face scrunching in displeasure at – you don’t know. The disgusting taste of tap water, you suppose. You try not to look at the bob of his throat as he swallows. Everything about this man seems to be unpleasant except the way he looks.

You take your own cup of water, just to quell some of the dryness that has made itself known in your throat at interacting with him.

The cheering gets a little quieter, and you turn to see what’s happened. As it turns out, all that’s actually happened is Gojo has stopped putting forth his own shouts to the fray, his eyes focussed on you and Naoya, a look that you think is almost sympathy spread across his face. You see that the race is about to begin, and you don’t look at Naoya as you say;

“You’re Maki and Mai’s father, aren’t you? Their first race is about to start. Maki’s been training really hard, I think she’ll pip it for us—”

A dark presence at your shoulder, and a sneering, uppity drawl.

“I gather you’re the teaching aid I’ve been hearing so much about from everyone.” he says. It does not sound like a compliment. “Maki has really found you . . . encouraging.” He says it like it’s a dirty word.

You force yourself to remain cheerful, and not ask him what the fuck his problem is.

“Maki’s really talented,” you say. “Mai’s fast, too – they’re both really good representatives for the class--”

Naoya snorts.

“They should be on the sidelines,” he says, coolly. “Supporting the men. Not running. Not getting all sweaty and hot and messing up their hair and their pretty faces.” He shakes his head. “It’s unwomanly, and if Maki listened to a word I’d said, she wouldn’t be doing it.”

“Mai is doing it too,” you point out, hating yourself for getting involved in this. But you just can’t let him stand there and be such an asshole, spewing his narrow-minded ideas when there are impressionable girls around.

“Mai’s already agreed that if they win this race, she’ll ask one of the boys to switch in for her. I’ve sorted it with the principal. It’s not ladylike for her to do any more than she has to. She’s not going to get a husband in good standing based on her athletic prowess--”

Oh, this is too far. You’re seething, though you’re trying to keep your respectable face on. You’re at work, you’re at work, you’re at work--

“Perhaps there are some other things they consider more important than finding a husband, at the age of twelve?”

Naoya’s laugh is nasty, mocking – and you hate that there’s something in it that sends a curl of heat right through you, blooming between your thighs.

“The younger a girl learns her place,” he says, his voice very slow. “The better it is and easier it is for a man to be assured she’ll do her duties. I don’t see a ring on your finger, Miss – I’d hate for them to end up working some dead-end little job just because they don’t have anyone to cook and clean for--”

Nope.

You can’t take it any longer.

You turn and you throw the cup of ‘shitty tap water’ in your hand right over Naoya Zenin’s stupid, smug, asshole face.

2.

Gojo, for what you think must be one of the first time in his life, looks uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know you were going to throw water on him,” he tries to say, weakly. “Look, we all hate him, but . . . ugh. This is so frustrating! I hate all of this bureaucracy bullshit--”

It turns out that Naoya Zenin’s family – and Naoya Zenin himself – donate rather a lot of money to the school for such functions as the one you’re all currently attending. It turns out that nobody wants to piss off the bank-roll that’s keeping their gym maintained, their events fancy and expensive, the library well-stocked – and you get that! You really do! You know that school budgets are overstretched already, and that donors like the Zenin family are something to be gently courted and kept around for as long as humanly possible.

You just wish that the big donor for this school was anybody else.

“I didn’t know all of this,” you say, reasonably. “I know I shouldn’t have thrown a drink over him, but Mr. Gojo--”

“How many times? You can call me Satoru.”

“If you’d heard the way he was talking--”

“Oh, believe me,” Gojo’s full lips press into a thin line. “I know exactly what Naoya Zenin’s modus operandi is. Let me guess: he was all on at you about how Maki’s not a proper young lady, how the boys should be doing the hard work, how he’s trying to make sure his daughters get a proper start and a rich husband – ugh.” Gojo tugs at his shirt, clearly frustrated. “I’ve had it way too much.”

“Yeah,” you say. You find yourself sighing too.

“The Vice Principal’s in his back pocket,” Gojo says, taking a seat on top of the desk that you’re currently sat behind, cooling off some of your anger – Principal Masamichi had sent you inside to calm you down, and Naoya himself had been escorted into the building by Vice Principal Gakuganji to dry off, all the while saying placating things to calm down the school’s meal ticket. “They want you to apologise to him.”

“I suppose I should,” you say miserably. “But it’s gonna feel like swallowing gravel.”

“I certainly don’t blame you,” Gojo says, with a smile, trying to cheer you up. “Hell, I know some of the other staff members have been dying to do it--”

“Ugh,” you bury your face in your hands. “This is a horrible impression in front of the whole school.”

He pats you gently on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, “when this is all over, I’ll take you out for ice cream. I know the best places in the city, and they all know me too!”

You summon a smile for him. He’s not so bad, really – sure, he’s chaotic and thinks too highly of himself for his own good, but . . . at least he’s nothing like Naoya. You stand up and pull down your shorts, wriggling your tank top down to cover you as much as you possibly can. You feel a bit exposed, not in heels and stockings and a blouse.

“I should get this over with, then.”

Gojo has too much to do back on the field to escort you to Naoya himself, so he tells you that Naoya’s in the Vice Principal’s office and gives you another friendly squeeze on the shoulder.

“Good luck,” he tells you. “Remember: ice cream at the end of this!”

“Ice cream at the end of this,” you repeat, as you watch him jog out of the corridor. You’re almost tempted to tell him off for running in the halls – Gojo moves so fast that sometimes you lose track of him entirely – but you push back the urge. Gojo is being decent today. You’re thankful to him for sitting with you and helping you calm – and also, evidently, for being one of the things that keeps Maki’s fighting spirit inflamed.

You stand there for a moment, in front of the door to the office, balling up your courage tight and hot in your stomach. You do not want to have to apologise to Naoya, but you know it’s for the best. The sooner you can put this sorry incident behind you and try and avoid Naoya at every single function from herein, the better – so you tap hard on the door and wait until you hear his slow, drawling voice.

“You can come in.”

At first, you’re surprised to see that he’s alone in there – sitting in front of the desk in a comfortable chair, clearly at ease with everything. His arms are sprawled over the back of it, his legs wide apart. You chastise yourself for thinking it immediately – of course the vice principal is busy right now, of course he trusts someone as well-known to the school as Naoya to be alone in his office.

It’s hard not to think about every other time you’ve found yourself alone with the parents of your students, though. A heat crawls onto your face at the very thought of it. You find Naoya repellent, disgusting – but then again, he’s also (and you’re not being glib about it) handsome. You’d be lying if you’d said you sometimes hadn’t ignored a man’s personality for a night in favour of a face and a body that had drawn you in.

Not now.

You close the door behind you, clasping your hands together so you don’t clench your fists, and bow your head so that Naoya can’t tell that you’re grinding your teeth.

“I’m sorry for letting my emotions get the better of me, Sir,” you say, though it really does feel like you are gnashing ice to get the words out. “I should have been more polite. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

“Mmm,” Naoya says, and you peek up at him through your lashes to see that he’s clearly enjoying having you at his mercy, his lips tilted into a smirk. His hair is still a little wet at the ends, but all that you throwing the water over him seems to have actually done is made his shirt cling tight to a surprisingly chiselled chest and stomach. Asshole. Fuck him. “Yes. I should hope not.”

You straighten yourself up, still a little stiff.

“I hope you can forgive me,” you say. “I . . . I am still learning my place in the establishment.”

He laughs, low and soft.

“Your place?” He asks, the words dangerously sweet on his tongue. “Yes. I can see you still need some help on that one.”

His eyes crawl over you slowly, dragging up and down the length of you, lingering over where your shorts cling to your hips and the tank top hugs your chest. You resist the urge to shift – you don’t want to let him know that he’s making you uncomfortable. You know, though, that he can sense that you have gone hot and prickly all over. He has that smug air; the one men who know what they do to people always seem to have cultivated. The knowledge that they are good-looking.

You suppose for Naoya, it’s the heady combination of knowing he is good-looking and powerful and rich, and you breathe through the force of all of his attention concentrated on you.

“Seeing as you’re still . . . new to all of this,” he says, bringing an arm forward to tap his long fingers on the desk. “And you did apologise prettily, I suppose I can forgive this transgression – just this once, darling.”

The pet name crawls up your spine like ice. He’s still staring at you, enjoying the view like you’re a piece of meat on a market stall he’s considering purchasing.

“Th-thank you, Sir,” you say, hating yourself a little bit but hating him all the more.

“You know,” he says. “You’re not exactly bad-looking.” He stands, rising to his full height, stretching out, frustratingly comfortable in this environment when you feel like a deer who’s about to turn tail and flee at any moment. “You’d be much better off at home raising children than here.” He wrinkles his nose. “Working for a living.” The way that he says the words makes it clear that he considers this a task far beneath the likes of him.

He’s moving towards you now, and your breath seems to get stuck in your throat as he’s suddenly in front of you, stalking elegantly. You want to snap back something about how you’d rather work for a living than have to rely on the whims of a man, much less a man like him – but as he grabs your chin to tilt it up to the light, you find that the words seem to die in your throat.

“Hmm,” he says. “Not bad at all.” He makes an approving noise that sends a flutter right through you, making you dully aware of a pounding ache between your thighs. He leans a little further in, until he’s so close that you can see the pale colours dancing in his eyes, the way the light hits his high cheekbones. “You’re trembling with rage, you know. It’s adorable.”

“You’re very easy to be angry at,” you half-breathe, half-hiss, and Naoya’s smirk is going to be burnt into your memory forever and ever.

“If you’re so angry,” he murmurs, “I can certainly think of a way I wouldn’t mind helping you work out your aggression.”

You shouldn’t do it. But your heart is beating a frantic rhythm against your ribcage and your breath is short, and part of you wants to wrestle him to the ground and dominate him so that he can have a taste of his own medicine. You grab a handful of his hair and drag him down into a bruising kiss.

3.

Oh, and he kisses back. His mouth is soft against yours, but the kiss itself is rough – both of your tongues fighting for dominance, both of you trying to nip at one another’s bottom lip and seize the victory. You’re practically shoved backwards so that your ass catches the edge of the Vice Principal’s desk, even as you tug hard on Naoya’s hair to tell him that you’re not going to be overpowered by him so easily. You feel the feral curve of his grin as he pulls back just enough to whisper;

“Oh? You really think you’re going to get the better of me? You’re cute--” and then you push his shoulders hard, and he stumbles and falls back onto the chair he started this whole escapade sat in. You reach down to tug off your shirt, dropping it onto the floor beside you – Naoya looks for a moment like he’s going to stand back up and resume trying to wrest back the situation into his favour, but as he sees the slight bounce of your breasts in your bra he seems to decide it would be more interesting and beneficial for him to stay exactly where he is and watch you disrobe.

So you do, wriggling your shorts down past your hips – he lets out a low groan at that, as you stand before him in nothing but your underwear with your fists clenched on your hips.

You feel surprisingly powerful like this. It definitely makes a difference from all of the other ways you’ve felt when you’ve been alone with somebody’s father--

“Take off your shirt,” you tell him, and you’re almost surprised at the imperious tone in your own voice. “It’s your turn--”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but he does as you ask. Long fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, taking his sweet time pulling it off his body – and yes, it’s a nice one. Nice, too, are his thighs as he undoes his trousers that probably cost more than you make in a year and pushes them down, sitting before you in nothing but his equally as expensive-looking underwear – an impressive looking bulge outline pressed against the fabric. Even as he looks at you, he takes hold of himself through it and squeezes it, his grin crooked.

Your body does a throb of need.

“Oh,” you say, feigning surprise. “I didn’t realise you were so needy already--”

“Like you’re not dripping,” he says sharply, his eyes zeroing in on the space between your thighs. “Don’t flatter yourself. I can see the damp patch from here.”

“Who’s to say that’s for you?” You walk towards him. You can’t help but feel powerful and in control at how his eyes follow you with rapt attention, how his tongue darts out to swipe across his bottom lip as he drinks in your form in front of him.

“Please,” he says. “As if there’s anyone here more deserving.”

He reaches forward and his hands settle on your hips, dragging you closer to him – hot fingertips brushing your waist, the bare skin beneath your bra before he’s unclipping that too and your breasts are bare. He breathes in deeply.

“Pity,” he says, though his voice is thick with his own arousal. “You’re such a cute little thing, if only you didn’t open your mouth--”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me opening my mouth to do something else,” you breathe, and you reach down to ghost your fingers over his cock through the tent in his underwear. He hisses through his teeth, his eyes half-lidded.

“Don’t just say it, princess,” he says. “If you’re going to run your mouth, the least you could do is make it do something useful--”

“I’d rather die than get on my knees for you.” Your mouth is very close to his neck – to punctuate the statement, you give his earlobe a tug with your teeth, and he practically groans. You’re almost straddling him on the chair, and you do not miss, either, the twitch that his cock seems to give at the tug.

It seems like for somebody who really wants to be in control, and wants women to know their place so badly, Naoya actually is rather enjoying somebody giving him a taste of his own medicine.

He grabs your underwear and pulls it down, clicking his tongue as it bunches about your knees.

“Just give into what your body wants,” he says, all saccharine sweetness in that slow, deep voice. “You’ve made a mess.”

You know you have. You can feel slick when your thighs press too close together, hot and wet between your legs. You really are practically dripping. But it’s not just from Naoya, you don’t think – it’s from the sudden power you’re feeling, the rush of being an equal participant in everything, in feeling like you have the upper hand. And not a small part, you think, is because of the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins at the thought of putting Naoya Zenin in his place. You tip your head to the side innocently.

“What about you?” You ask, with a mean shade to the pitch of your voice. “You’re so hard it’s a wonder you’re not in pain--”

He grabs a hank of your hair with one hand whilst spreading your legs further with the other, so strong that the breath’s knocked out of you. The tip of his finger skims the outer lips of your sex, gathering your slick arousal on the pad as he growls;

“I’m still a man, darling. I see a pretty cunt to fuck and a pair of nice tits and I want to bury myself into it until the bitch remembers her place--”

“Good luck,” you breathe. “I think you’ll be the one remembering his place, here.”

He laughs breathlessly.

“Oh,” he purrs. “You’re going to be singing a different song when you’re begging me to fuck you harder.”

You give him a smile with your teeth bared; the challenge is obvious. It’s a smile that says ‘we’ll see’, even as you both tug at his underwear to pull it down and reveal what he’s been hiding beneath it.

You don’t want to admit that he’s got a pretty cock, but he has. He’s not the biggest you’ve seen, but it’s still impressive; a slight curve giving it an elegant angle that you realise with a clench will hit you exactly in the right spot when you take it inside of you.

He’s slick with his own pre-come, bubbling from the reddened slit – and as you shift forward and trap it between your thighs, he groans aloud again.

“That’s right,” he grunts, as the tip catches on your entrance and you begin to sink down upon it. “This is what you were made for, princess--”

“What?” You pant. “That would be disappointing. You barely fill me up--”

He grabs you and pulls you into another kiss as you finish off sheathing his cock inside of you – perhaps to save his pride, perhaps to muffle the noise that comes out of him, transferred into your mouth instead of his own. Whichever it is, you hate that you were right about the angle of his cock – you can feel it pressing snugly against the spongy G-spot even now, threatening you with a better time than you’d like to have.

You break the kiss to pull yourself off of him and sink back down, forcibly taking the lead and setting your own pace. You know it’s fast, you know it’s greedy – but fuck, if you aren’t boiling over with need.

You splay your hands across his shoulders, nails digging into his skin with little care to how you might mark him. You need him for leverage, as you continue to bounce up and down on his cock. Naoya tips his head back and groans, enjoying the feeling, before he remembers that you two are engaged in a battle of wits and attempts to get the better of you once more.

“I-is that,” he groans, coming to cling onto your waist and force you down on him with even more strength, helping you along in the too-fast rhythm of your thrusts and bounces. “The best you’ve got?”

“Come on,” you say breathlessly, as his cock continues to stroke that spot. You can hear the sounds of him sliding in and out of you, shamefully loud – too, you can hear the sounds of your skin slapping against one another, echoing and mixing with the breathless pants and the attempts to trade barbed insults. “Y-you’re making me do all the work?”

“Fucking pity you’ve got such a nice cunt,” Naoya snarls, his hips flexing, somehow managing to hit you deeper even as you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet and straddling him on the chair. His words are starting to sound very far away. “You should be in my fucking bed, keeping it warm, better off than wasting away here--”

Both of you are running your mouths, overwhelmed by how close one another’s bodies are and the intense heat radiating from you. There’s a frisson of electricity in the air, showering sparks, as the two of you continue to snatch words in between moans and groans and pants and whimpers--

“You’re pathetic--”

“You’re so fucking tight, I shouldn’t be surprised when you’re such a bitch--”

“F-fuck, harder, c-can’t you even keep the momentum going? You’re weak--”

“Baby girl, you’re fucking shaking – you gonna come first? Women are so predictable--”

You can feel your release hovering on the edge of your vision, blurring it as your eyes squeeze shut and you feel tears threatening to roll down your cheeks. There’s a heat inside of you that’s close to overspilling – and as you come down on him particularly hard, the head of his cock rolls over your g-spot just right, and you feel a dam inside of you break as your nails dig hard enough into his shoulders to draw blood. You bury your face into his neck so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of hearing you cry out his name, teeth worrying into his neck to leave a love-bite reminder of exactly what transpired between you two in the Vice Principal’s office.

You feel yourself twitch and tighten around him as your orgasm rocks your body, heat running through you like veins of marble. You can’t breathe – all you can do is bite, your hips chasing the final aftershocks.

Naoya is still hard inside of you as you lift yourself off him, letting his cock slip out of you as easily as butter. His own hands clench around your hips.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asks, his voice rough and hungry. Despite that, though, you can hear the thread of some other emotion sewn in to them – and with a shiver of delight, you realise it’s neediness. He’s been left wanting, and you’ve been handed all of the cards. “I haven’t finished.”

“And you won’t finish inside me,” you snap at him, enjoying the longing in his voice. “Ask me very nicely and I’ll finish you off with my hand.”

“Mouth,” he demands – and he grabs your cheeks, squishing them, pulling you down and reminding you of all of the power that he has even though it’s your body that’s got the advantage of the high ground. “You don’t really think I’m going to be satisfied with your hand, princess--”

“You don’t deserve it,” you spit at him, but you sink to your knees anyway.

You’re not entirely lacking in manners. You suppose you did get to come. It would be rude to just leave him like this. Especially when the whole reason you’d ended up in this office in the first place was to apologise to him politely.

“This is the perfect position for you,” he sneers, as you open your mouth and envelope the head of his cock within it. You can taste yourself on his shaft. “Fuck, that’s right – put your mouth to good use for once--”

You give him a mean, slow lick along the slit of his cock head that makes him groan in the back of his throat. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, fingers digging into the nape so he can control you at least a little bit, pushing you a touch too far so you almost choke. You pull off it, drooling.

“Choke me again and I’ll bite,” you snarl, and he pats your cheek like you’re an obedient dog.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he says – and you narrow your eyes at him in a way that says ‘try me’ before you return to sucking at him, hollowing your cheeks. You want to do a good job. A part of you wants to make him come so hard that he regrets being an asshole to you, even though you know that’s ridiculous and not going to happen.

Still. You’re not going to back down from a challenge, so you use your tongue to play along as much of his cock as you can.

“Fuck,” Naoya breathes. “Good . . . good fuckin’ girl—”

You’ve been hearing that low, polite drawl swear and curse for what seems like hours, but that one sends another pulse of heat through you – at your heart, you can’t argue that you love being praised. You whimper against his cock, glad that the fast pace you’ve managed to establish and the wet noises of your mouth around him muffle the noise so Naoya can’t dangle it over your head.

The hand on the nape of your neck jerks, so that you’re forced to look up at him and meet his eyes proper. His hips are slamming to meet your bobs now, the noise of him fucking your mouth filling the room. His teeth dig into his bottom lip and you feel him twitch, his voice pitching--

Salt coats your tongue as he fills your mouth.

But he doesn’t let himself finish there.

He pulls out, and he pumps his cock himself two, three times – coaxing out the other ropes of come, that hit your neck and chest and breasts hot and white and glistening. You’re too surprised by it to do anything – you’d expected him to keep your mouth on him, make you swallow down everything he gave you. He seems the kind of guy who gets off on that sort of thing--

But instead, he’s sighing, relaxing back into the chair as he looks at you with lazy eyes.

“You look cute like that,” he says, his voice low and sated. “I should take a picture.”

“Fuck you,” you breathe, getting off your knees. You are so fucking thankful for the box of tissues on the Vice Principal’s desk, as you reach across and grab some to dab at yourself so you’re not sticky and disgusting for any longer than necessary.

If you leave them in his pedal waste-bin, you hope that the cleaning crew will dispose of them before the Vice Principal is even aware that they’re there. Your lip curls as you wipe your mouth. You wish you had a mint – or at least a glass of water. Even tap water would do.

For what it’s worth, Naoya seems a little agitated as he puts himself to rights too. Evidently he was not expecting you to fight back so much – he places a finger on his shoulders and scowls when he sees that you made him bleed.

“I should sue you for assault,” he says. You tap your own body, at the curve of your hips and waist.

“I’m going to bruise,” you tell him. “So I guess it would be self-defence.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he tells you, with narrowed eyes – and you give him another smile, one that is clearly fake, as you pull your tank top and shorts back on and re-tie your shoes.

You’re surprised as you go to leave the room and he sets a hand on the small of your back in a mocking echo of polite manners. As the two of you walk down the corridor towards the exit, he does not remove it. To the assembled crowds, you hope it will look entirely innocent – like the two of you have merely had a little chat and come to an agreement instead of heatedly fucking one another’s brains out.

You blink as you emerge out into the light, your eyes taking a moment to adjust. You see Principal Masamichi give you a sympathetic smile – and there’s Gojo, immediately charging towards you like an overprotective bear. He slows down as he sees the way that Naoya is still touching you.

“I hope everything’s alright,” he says, sounding stiffer and more formal than you usually hear. Naoya’s smile towards him is cold.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “Perfect. You apologised beautifully, didn’t you, Miss?” Naoya looks down his nose at you, a conceited smile on his mouth. “I’ve decided to overlook this little transgression.” He leaves a pause, and you swallow as you realise what he’s waiting for.

“Thank you so much, Mr Zenin, Sir,” you say. Again, it feels like you have to force the words out through a mouthful of marbles – but they make it out of your mouth.

“Oh, don’t be so formal, Miss,” he smirks. “You can call me Naoya. I look forward to seeing you again – soon, I hope.”

“You’re just in time,” Gojo says coldly. “Maki just won the final race of the day for our team.”

Naoya’s gaze is sharp as he looks at him. His lip curls. You can tell that both of them want to do something – maybe have an out-and-out fist fight on the field. But Naoya manages to get a grip (you’re glad about it; you’re not entirely sure whether Gojo would have been able to hold back) and turns on his heel to stalk away.

He does give your ass one last squeeze, though, that you desperately hope that Gojo doesn’t notice.

Gojo’s shoulders stay set, his chin thrust proudly forward, until Naoya has been swallowed up by the crowd at large – and then, he turns to you. For the first time, you see his normally humorous eyebrows draw in with worry.

“You look upset,” he says. “Sweaty. You smell terrible. Do you need a minute?”

Your shoulders fall. Gojo gives you a sympathetic pat on the back.

“It’s a rite of passage to deal with someone from the Zenin family,” he says. “You’re just unlucky it happened to actually be Naoya today. He usually sends an underling or an uncle or someone to pretend to care about the girls.”

Wow. You sure hope the rite of passage has gone differently for everyone else.

“Why d’you think he came here today, then?” You ask Gojo. He looks at you strangely, a spark of something you can’t quite read in his eyes.

“Well,” he says, “he’s related to the Fushiguros, you know. I heard he and Megumi’s father have met up recently for drinks – it ended in a fight, of course, it always does. But maybe he expected Megumi’s dad to be here too?” He shrugs. “He can never resist an opportunity to relish over someone in his family winning, even if he doesn’t want Maki doing anything unladylike. Megumi’s dad isn’t here, though, so looks like that backfired on him--”

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you think about Megumi’s father fucking you on Gojo’s desk – and the lingering way that Naoya had said that he’d heard so much about you from everyone.

[bokettochild]

Legendary Cousins

So... I promised @peachy-scars that I would write them this a while back when they posted this, and after consulting y’all (I think it was @attllhak and several anons who helped the most) I finally had enough to just go ham and write this beautiful piece of garbage.

Hope you like it, Peaches!

 They had landed in a new Hyrule, and Legend’s instant reaction was to blink and stare about with a conflicted expression on his face while the others had stared in confusion at their surroundings.

 “Why’s this look so weird?” Wind demanded eloquently as he pulled himself out from beneath a giggling Hyrule, who always laughed nervously when they landed in a new Hyrule and seemed particularly giddy today.

 “Wind, manners.” Time chided softly, pulling himself back up and working with Wild to pull his protégé back up, Twilight looking around dizzily as he leaned on his mentor for balance. “You don’t know whose home this might be.”

 “I do.” Legend hissed softly, hooded eyes staring towards a nearby path while a slight smile touched his lips. “New Hero everyone.”

 Glances were exchanged before shooting to the vet in confusion. “How...”

 “You knew there were more heroes?” Warriors sputtered, staring at the vet in surprise while the hero in question pulled himself to his feet and shook out his limbs, knuckles crackling painfully and making the others wince.

 “Time travel mixed with world hopping and the occasional visit to other countries.” Legend answered in a low voice, stretching towards the sky and standing on the tips of his toes (eyes turned away as the vet’s already short tunic rode higher). “I’ve met plenty of other heroes. Five- maybe six? Not sure.” He shrugged, arms falling back to his sides as he moved further into the forest. “Come along, if we want to check up on things we’d best get headed to the castle. Monsters out here are brutal, even if they are bloody crazy.”

 Glances were exchanged again, Wind’s wide eyes growing wider as he mouthed the words ‘six other heroes’ to his brothers.

 “Who met Legend before all this went down?” The captain hissed, pulling Four up onto his back. “Because it sure as heck wasn’t me.”

 No one answered, and they didn’t have much of a chance to as the Vet’s voice broke through the forest, a harsh hiss for them to hurry. “You stay there all day the ‘blins’ll eat you!”

 Eight heroes pulled themselves along, following after as Legend trailed silently through the forest.

 Each stumble or loud noise earned a glare from the vet, and if it didn’t come from them, it made him freeze, steps stopping immediately as his ears would prick towards the sound. More than once, Twilight or Sky had to muffle a laugh in their respective wraps as the image of a bunny starting to alert entered their minds.

 Maybe it’s the laughter. Maybe it’s just their dang Hero of Courage luck, or maybe it’s just because Hylia thinks it funny, but even with all Legend’s glaring and stopping and sneaking, they are attacked just as they reach the edge of the forest.

 The monsters are... horrifying. Nothing most of them have ever even seen, and the only thing they can do as they fight is to take the vet’s advice. “Aim for the eyes! And if you can’t reach them, the ankles!” The vet shouts as he kicks into a spin attack. The other heroes follow suit, ripping into the beasts as Wild pulls back from the group, setting off volleys of arrows as best he can do by himself, and successfully blinding a few of the monsters.

 They’re thick into the song of battle when an unknown voice rings out. “Good golly! Hang on there, sirs!”

 It’s hard to see past the swarms of monsters (seriously, they’ve never been this thick!) but blonde hair and a swinging sword assure them that whomever it is, is likely the hero Legend had told them about. Enemies fall as bombs explode and various weapons pierce through hearts and heads.  

 Once the dust has cleared, they take careful stock of their injuries and weapons (Wild’s shattered another sword and Four is sighing wearily) before turning their attention to their unexpected help.

 Legend and the other hero stand over a dead bokoblin, shaking hands in a friendly manner while the one chatters to the other, the vet smiling thinly but genuinely as he listens.

 “Vet, who’s this?”

 “Ah! You have friends!” A bright smile is turned their way as the swordsman releases Legend’s hand. “Greetings! I’m Link.”

 “The Hero of Koridai.” Legend adds on, rolling his eyes.

 “Aw, come on, Other-Link!” The newcomer grins, jabbing Legend playfully in the side and effectively stealing his breath. “I’m just Link is all.”

 “That’s all of their names too.” Legend wheezes, glaring up at the other.

 The chain of heroes takes in the newcomer, who, much to the captain’s dismay, seems to share Legend’s opinion of pants, as well as a preference for pegasus boots. Bright brown eyes stare back at them, a dopey grin on the hero’s face, but beneath the welcoming grin there's a glint of something sharp and dangerous that has Warriors shuffling back warily.

 “What adventure is this? Finish meeting up with your lovely cousins?”

 The vet huffs a breath, clearing his throat as he straightens up again. “Thereabouts, this’ll be adventure seven.”

 “Ooh, seven. Ouch.” Bright brown turn towards the vet with a sympathetic wince. “Sorry about that.”

 “You had your own quests.” Legend dismisses, as if his words don’t confuse the others. “How’s Zelly by the way? We haven’t heard from her.”

 Link, for lack of a better current name, smiles cheerily. “Half a minute yet there.” Turning to the others he offers yet another impossibly wide smile, it’s very nearly uncomfortable to look at, and Legend is the only one who seems unaffected by doing so (he has seen far, far worse from this world). “We should skedaddle over to the castle.” A halting motion is made towards the castle just in front of them as the newest hero laughs nervously. “As long as you’re there, you won’t be attacked.”

 And for lack of anything else to do, they agree, following after as Legend and the new Link chat in the front, Legend with an amount of patience that has never in their memory presented itself and the new Link with an almost irritating amount of pep and cheer. “Zelly’s doing great, and we’re hoping to visit all of you soon too! Or, we were, but the monsters started getting real bad an’ Zel figured we’d better stay behind to make sure they didn’t cause too much trouble.”

 “How bad?” The vet’s brows quirk with concern and Warriors nearly stumbles at the gentle expression on Legend’s face.

 “Just a bit stronger.” The new Link shrugs, but smiles brightly up at Legend. “It’s not as bad as last time though, so don’t worry your pink head about it.”

 And Legend... Legend actually laughs, reaching up to tug the cap of the other Link as they cross into the shadow of Hyrule Castle’s walls.  

 “What the-” Warriors is cut off with a blaring ‘Beep!’ from Wind, who looks up at him cheekily when the captain looks down at him.

 “Censoring.” Wind chirrups.

 ”Soooo...” Twilight drawls, a smile pulling at his features as he looks between the duo, the heroes all relaxing as they enter the castle gates. “How do you two know each other?”

 “We’re cousins!” Link chirrups happily, shooting another smile over his shoulder that’s just a bit too wide and a bit too sharp.”

 “Third Cousins or...” Legend waves his hand vaguely. “Somethin’. Their father is my second cousin or some sort of thing, it’s unclear honestly, all we know is that Zelda is my cousin somewhere down the line and with those two dating-” The other Link flushes at the statement, face as dopey as Sky’s gets. “He’s bound to be thrown in there somewhere too.”

 “Wait!” Four looks from one of the cousins to the other (there is a bit of resemblance, uncannily enough, even though Link smiles far more than Legend). “Whose time is this?”

 The two share a look, nodding firmly before turning to the others and speaking together. “Both.”

 “Two heroes? In one time?” Time cocks a brow.

 Legend throws his hands up. “You can talk to Hylia about that!”

 “Oh!” Link’s grin widens further as he bounces in place. “And how is Aunt Hylia? Golly, I haven’t seen her in ages!”

 “Aunt Hylia...” Sky blinks slowly.

 The vet huffs. “Fine. She’s letting Fable back into the fighting ring this weekend, figured since the Master didn’t mess things up that it’d be okay to let Hylians head back out there. Hide the evidence if they send me an invite, yeah?”

 “Will do!” Comes the chipper reply, but the other heroes aren’t done.

 “Wait, wait, wait, how many heroes are there in this time?” Warriors looks from one to the other with panic building in his gaze.

 Link frowns in what seems an over-the-top expression of thought. “Do the colors count?”  

 Four chokes.

 Legend flushes. “They count.” His voice is strained and nearly wheezing as swirling hazel stares a hole in his head.

 “And then there’s the Hytopian wannabe, who might very well actually be one.” Link continues. “And the two of us. Does Great-Grandfather Raven count?”

 “Not in this time, he just traveled here briefly when Nayru became corrupted.” Legend drawls with a head tilt, as if talking about meeting your ancestors and de-corrupting a goddess was normal for this world, and with the way Link just nods along, they are all beginning to worry that that is the norm here.

 “Right, so five heroes.” Link nods slowly. “And then we have great-gramps Raven, and whoever- wait.” The new Link’s eyes fly wide open as he motions to Time. “Isn’t that Great-Gramps?”

 Legend and Time both splutter as the vet hurries to correct the other hero. “No! He’s...” Legend looks from the startled Time to his cousin. “That’s the Hero of Time.” He whispers gravely, and Link’s eyes blow even wider as he looks to Time, who winces. They’ve all heard of what happened to the Hero of Time in this world.

 “Oh!” Link breathes, before another smile stretches over his face. “Great-Great-Gramma Lon’s husband!”

 Legend just facepalms while Time stands with his mouth flapping and fingers twitching, the old man now trying to calculate exactly how many children are now officially his while Warriors proceeded to have all the color drain out of his face.

 “How are there two heroes of Courage here!!!!” The Captain hisses, and Link and Legend both look at each other. “And for the love of Hylia! Stop looking at each other all the time, what, can you read minds?!?!”

 And both stare at the captain with the deadest of dead expressions, which actually makes Link all the more unnerving and Legend all the more intimidating. “Yes.”

 It takes a while, but once they meet Zelda, she takes the time to explain.

 “Our fathers are cousins.” She says, smiling at the heroes as they all sit and have lunch in the courtyard, motioning to Legend as she speaks. The vet is currently pulling his hat back off of his face after having it tugged down in vengeance for earlier. “Once both had married into the royal family, there was contention in the kingdom so Auntie Hylia sent Mapa and Papa out here to take care of this part of the kingdom while she handled things in central Hyrule.

 “Most folks call Papa a king because they forget that it’s one country, but what with the high borders and all, it may as well be its own country.” She shrugs as she pops another piece of food in her mouth. “And there aren’t two Courage Wielders, technically. I mean, there are, but Link isn’t one of them.” She smiles in a sly sort of way, too wide, too knowing, too creepy for many of the heroes to be comfortable. “He just happens to care a lot and does what he can.”

 “Oh yeah,” Hyrule nods knowingly, chewing slowly on his own meal. “My brother is like that too.”

 The others, even Legend and Link, turn to Hyrule in shock. “Your what???”

[myonepiece]

Sanji, Ace, Zoro when their crush breaks up with their boyfriend

part 2 to this

-ecstatic, just yay

-he freaks out and twirls around the kitchen with heart eyes 

-chances are your boyfriend was dumped at some island they stopped at, Sanji threw his stuff off “carefully”

-and then he stood on the railing with his hand in his pocket and a cigarette between his fingers and stares at your ex with a smug look that’s saying something like “I knew this would happen” or “good riddance”

-of course if it was a hard break up he’ll be right by your side comforting you like he did when you fought with your boyfriend

-except now he’s a bit more touchy like more cheek kisses and forehead kisses, he’ll hold you closer because now he doesn’t have “they’re dating someone else” in the back of his mind

-no matter how long it takes for you to be ready again, he. will. wait.

-he definitely steps up his flirting but it doesn’t really become clear because he’s always flirty

-he’ll walk with an extra pep in his step because there’s nothing stopping him from asking you out now, except for respect that makes him wait for you to be ready for another relationship

-when he asks you out he’ll give you either big fancy bouquet or a handpicked one thats just as beautiful and he’ll say “will you go on a date with me” with the softest smile and most sweet lovely innocent look in his eyes

-if your now ex boyfriend wasn’t actually part of the crew, like he was only tagging along because of you, Ace would go straight to him and lean on the doorway of whatever room he’s in and be like “leave” 

-as soon as he hears the news he goes to brag to Thatch and Marco, then he grabs some snacks and goes to find you

-if you’re upset about the break up he’s ready to comfort you but he’s even more open with his insults and instead of trying to calmly make you feel better he tries to distract you by being goofy 

-he’ll have the crew throw a party to distract you (and to celebrate the break up but you don’t need to know that)

-Ace is extra smiley that night and always sticks close to you with at least an arm around you

-he becomes a little more touchy, he was touchy while you were with your boyfriend too so it’s not that much of a change

-but when you sit together he’ll either have an arm around you or your shoulders and/or legs with be touching

-he asks you out pretty quickly, maybe 4-7 days after the break up you’ll be in the kitchen eating lunch with the rest of the crew and Ace will look over getting distracted by you

-he’ll just blurt out “will you go out with me”

-and the whole crew falls silent and you giggle then say yes 

-Ace grins and hugs you and presses a big smooch to your cheek while the crew cheers

-he throws your boyfriend off the ship himself, if someone throws his stuff after then good for him,  if someone doesn’t? oh well

-if Zoro doesn’t throw him off thenn he waits for the crew to stop at an island and he bring your ex with him, getting him lost with him and he just leaves him there; he tells the crew he decided to stay there

-just like Sanji and Ace he will definitely be ready to comfort you, insults towards your ex are his go to now

-the first night (after your breakup) you’re sitting out on the deck with Zoro having a drink, he scoots closer and keeps your legs touching

-he’s blushing the whole time but he doesn’t stop

-you’ll fall asleep there with your head on his shoulder and he does the same with his head on top of yours 

-he’ll worry about if he should ask you out right away or if he should do it eventually

-you can notice a change in his behavior as he starts sticking closer to you and just generally lingering around you, he didn’t do it much before because your boyfriend was always with you and Zoro couldn’t be around him for too long without starting a fight

-a few days after your breakup you’ll be docked at an island and before you get off the ship to go into town Zoro will come up and ask if you want to spend the day with him

-he has to clarify he means a date which embarrasses the heck out of him so he turns his head away and grabs your hand to lead you off the boat 

[saphirered]

Heyo! Saw you wanted some individual character requests! I'm a sucker for Grog, and there isn't enough out there for him, so I was wondering if you could do a Grog x Sorceress!reader where the reader doesn't think grog would have a reason to like her since she isn't a melee fighter. Thank you so much!

P.s. Your writing is amazing, and I always love reading your works! ❤️

Thank you for the request! I'm glad you like my writing and hope you enjoy this one! Turned out a bit longer than I intended but that means more content. Anyway, Enjoy! 😘

Seated on the stone balustrade feet dangling over the edge looking over the city in front of you you twiddle your thumbs. You needed a moment away from everyone to sort your mind on your own. There’s a solitude in the dark clouds looming above and the first drops of rain signalling an oncoming storm and it’s never failed you before. Even while there’s no one around, you can confide in such storms knowing your words will be heard but carried away upon the wind and drowned out by the rain and thunder. A good storm won’t judge or hold a grudge. It will simply accept and listen. So here you’ll stay speaking your worries into the abyss and hope for some clarity or ease of mind and heart.

Back inside Grog sits on one side of the table, Scanlan at the other. They hold their respective tankards at the ready as the gnome counts down. By the end of the countdown they swing back their drinks finishing them as fast as they can being cheered on by the rest of Vox Machina and other witnesses to this drinking game. Grog’s determined to win this. While he’s pretty sure his tankard is actually a bucket with a handle, it’s more to scale compared to the gnome’s. Ale spills over the sides of Scanlan’s drink but Grog keeps it neat. No wasting ale after all.

With one last big chug Grog finishes the drink, slams it down on the table roaring in victory as the table shakes beneath his hit. Scanlan puts the remainder of his drink down on the table wiping his face disappointed. Grog looks around the crowd. Some are happy celebrating with him, others pass over money to the happy people for paying up on whatever amount they lost in their bets. How could they even consider Scanlan would win. He’s the best of the best after all and no one can out drink the all mighty Grog. He doesn’t spot you among the crowd and the victory doesn’t feel as sweet anymore. He really hoped you could have seen this one. Where had you gone?

Before Grog can get up and go find you he’s given a refill and the next challenger approaches. New bets are placed, Vex massages his shoulders giving him a pep talk and noting how he’s been making her a lot of money so better keep it up. He doesn’t want to disappoint his friends. One more game. Then he’ll go find you wherever you went.

The next game comes along, and another, and another but he’s done. No more games. When another challenger approaches and the game starts he doesn’t pick up the tankard and pushes away from the table. People ask him what the hell he’s doing but he ignores them. They’ve kept him long enough so he just up and walks before they can stop him. Grog leaves the room but Pike follows behind him worried for her buddy. He never refuses a good ale or a challenge, let alone the two combined.

“Grog? Grog, wait up!” Pike rushes after him leaving the banquet hall behind. Determined Grog still keeps walking but slows down his pace enough to let Pike catch up with him.

“Where are you going? There’s still plenty of ale to be drunk!” Pike reaches for the goliath’s hand to pull him to a stop. He does and turns to face Pike.

“I think I’ve had enough.” Grog says and Pike gasps. Never, never does Grog think he’s had enough to drink. Something must be wrong with him. Is he ill? Does he have a fever? Did someone poison her buddy’s drink? She might go on a war path if someone did and ruined his fun! But Grog seems okay. Physically that is. He’s fine.

“Do you know where she went?” Grog asks, maybe Pike can help him find you and maybe she can talk to you why you left. He doesn’t think you’d want to talk to him about that kind of stuff and while he’d consider himself a good listener, if something’s really up Pike always knows what to do. She can help.

“Who?”

“The pretty sorceress.” Grog states as a matter of fact and it is. Anyone who dares say otherwise clearly need some of those glass thingies Percy keeps on his nose and make him look smart.

“Oh, I don’t know Grog. She left to go get some fresh air.” Pike searches her mind to see where you might have gone. There’s a few places that come to mind but it’s all narrowed down to just the one when thunder rumbles through the sky. She knows exactly where you went and by the looks of it so does Grog.

Grog knows there’s only one place you really love to watch a storm unfold. You’ve told him before and you’ve even watched some storms together there. He shares a look with Pike and picks up his step going where he knows you’ll be, still dragging pike behind. When she doesn’t move fast enough he swings her up on his shoulders, running up the steps as far as they’ll take him, dodging a torch and pushing aside a guard here and there.

Then around the corner he sees you. Feet dangling over the edge, a single push away from what could possibly be a death drop, hand outstretched catching the rain with a sad smile on your face. You’re absolutely gorgeous. More alluring than anyone ever could. If he could paint, Grog would make sure this moment would be captured for eternity just so he would never forget. Maybe he can get some money from Vex to hire a painter? If Scanlan did it, why shouldn’t he?

You’re seated alone at the top of the tower. Lightning flashes through the clouds, sometimes branching down to strike the ground be it mountain or forest, you’re in a valley of safety surrounded by the storm. The drops of rain hit your outstretched arm extended beyond the cover of the overhanging. Cold as they are to the touch you watch them glide around your arm with movement until they too, continue their descend.

“…Sometimes I wish I would just have the courage but I don’t.” You speak into the skies. A burst of lightning strikes in the mountains, the sound echoing and even this high up you can feel the slight tremor of the ground. You know a storm is no sentient being but you read it like a reply no less and continue.

“I’m not a fighter. I don’t know how to wield a sword or an axe. I can barely lift one. We have such vastly different lives. Grog’s got no reason to like me in any way.” Thunder strikes again you smile briefly. You’ve come to terms you’ll always like Grog and your feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated. The only reason you’re even spending time together in the first place is because you’re both involved with Vox Machina in one way or another. You’ve got hardly anything in common so if you hadn’t met through them Grog probably wouldn’t even have thought about you twice.

That may sound sad and you’re thankful for getting to know him but Grog has his own life and interests so why should he bother indulging you in yours. He’s already not a big fan of magic and you won’t bother attempting to teach him. It’s not like it’s any interesting stuff and he’d probably be bored out of his mind the entire time. Then again, the theoretics of magic might just not be your strong suit either. It’s more of a natural born gift.

Grog gets this weird feeling in his chest as if he’s been hit by something and it’s being twisted. Kind of like when he got shot by an arrow and Pike had to remove it. It’s not a good feeling. Checking for injury just to make sure he’s fine. It’s clear to him he feels this on the inside; his heart bleeds a little for you. You shouldn’t think that way. He likes you. He likes you a lot actually so you couldn’t be more wrong. Pike nudges him to set her down. He does as they remain around the corner, leaving you unaware of their presence.

“Go talk to her.” Pike whispers and Grog panics for a brief second. How is he even supposed to do this? What is he supposed to say? He doesn’t know how this psychology stuff works. That’s what Pike’s for. If people feel sad they often come to her, talk about their worries and problems and then they feel better. How’s he supposed to do that? He’s not Pike.

“She needs you, Grog. I know you like her and she needs you. Go talk to her.” Pike nudges him on into your direction. The goliath isn’t physically moved by her effort but he does move. If Pike says you need him, if you really need him then he’ll be there. Looking over his shoulder one last time to ask Pike for some advise she’s already half way down the stairs leaving you with him. Grog thinks hard for a moment but thinking isn’t his strong suit either so he’ll do what he always does; face the problem head on.

A throat clears behind you and you almost slip from the fright it gave you. A heavy step rushes forward and an arm wraps around your waist pulling you back before you can fall. You’d have spells to save you in case you did fall but you’d rather not and are grateful for your valiant saviour. The bare arm wrapped around your waist is covered in tattoos, markings and scars and engulfs the majority of your middle. It doesn’t take a fool to know this arm belongs to Grog Strongjaw himself.

Flustered you allow the goliath to pull you back onto solid ground and off the balustrade entirely before he lets go of you, making sure you’re right on your feet. How much of your conversation with the skies did he hear? Did he hear anything at all? Grog steps back and stares at his boots. He doesn’t only appear to be more embarrassed than you feel but also apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Please don’t fall again and please don’t be angry at me.” Grog closes his eyes tightly afraid you might be mad at him as he was the cause of you almost experiencing a death drop. You’re basically gods but if we’ve learned anything from Keyleth; that doesn’t save you from a splat.

You step forward grab one of his hands in yours drawing his attention. With your index finger you tilt his chin up just enough so he’s looking at you and not over you. These gestures are enough for Grog to open his eyes. When there’s no look of anger on your face the tension in his body falls away just slightly. There’s still some rigidness from nerves but he’s closer to usual Grog.

“Chin up, big guy. You saved me too. I’m not mad.” You smile and the smile is returned. The air is still somewhat awkward so you decided you best get this over with and clear it up.

“How much did you hear?” You ask. The blush rushing to Grog’s cheeks and frantic glancing around to make sure no one else is here to witness it tells you he heard enough.

With a deep sigh you step back to the balustrade sitting down upon it once more but now to face Grog instead of the sky, your hair blowing lightly in the breeze, the rain and occasional illuminated sky behind you leave him staring yet again forgetting your question. He’s just captivated but you calling his name snaps him out of it. Saved it. Still got it. As long as he doesn’t turn to ‘drunk Keyleth’ levels he’ll consider it a win.

“I-uhhhh…. Why don’t you think I like you?” Grog twiddles his thumbs rocking back and forth from his tiptoes to his heels in anticipation of your answer. He knows he heard you tell the sky but he wants to be sure because if he gave you any reason to believe he didn’t like you, he did do something wrong. He’ll pick you over any of those other fools down stairs. He might just even pick you over the best ale. He’d already picked you over the ale he’d been offered. If that isn’t testament to his fondness of you, then what is?

“Ah, so you did hear that. I just- I think-. Ugh, why is this so hard?” You try to express your reasons but words are difficult and feelings even more so to describe yet still you try. Grog waits patiently either way.

“Do you think we would have been friends were it not for our lives being tied together as they are now?” You ask the dreaded question. You don’t even know if you really want the answer afraid that it may break any semblance of hope you had somewhere in your mind. Grog’s brow furrows, deep in thought but mostly confusion.

“Of course we would be. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Because I’m not like you. I’m not a fighter. I stay back with my spells and incantations while you run in axe swinging taking down anyone in your path. I read while you train. I sit around in my tower watching the skies while you go out and drink the town dry looking for a fight to enjoy. I could never do what you do and I do not dare to assume you’d have any interest in doing what I do.” The thoughts and feelings find words. A tension lifts from your chest like a breath you didn’t know you were holding just by speaking your mind to the goliath in question.

Grog knows damn well you’re not a fighter in the traditional sense. No steel or arrows for you but that does not mean you’re not a fighter in your own right. If he’s learned anything a fighter comes in many shapes and forms and you fit the description perfectly. You’ve shown determination and strength, courage against all odds and immense skill. You are a fighter.

“When I run into danger kicking ass who’s had my back every time?” Grog asks. There’s a harshness and authority in his voice indicating he’s leading somewhere and you better answer.

“We all have-“ Grog cuts you off.

“No. You have had my back every time.” He corrects. “Who comes watch me train, throwing spells to keep me on my toes? Who does it while reading her books completing not one but two tasks at the same time?”

“I do.” You admit.

“And who helps me kick ass in bar fights? Who cheers me on or joins me in any gamble or drinking game? Who is the best drinking buddy? You are. Now, who spends time with you watching storms whenever they occur up here in the tower or anywhere else?”

“You… do…” Grog’s right.

“I like to spend time with you because I like you. I don’t care you don’t swing an axe. That firestorm you do works just the same and looks way more badass. I’m not the smartest but I know two of the same are not always useful and can be too much. What are you going to do with two when you only need one. You need difference so they compitry- complitarity- colmpli-“ Grog struggles with that word. He’s heard Percy use it in a similar context but why is it such a difficult word to recall. He still tries and just hopes you’ll get what he’s trying to say.

“Complimentary?” You ask. You fear Grog might get himself a migraine if he tries any harder. You still don’t think that’s the correct use of the word but you get it. He’s trying to lift your spirits and it’s working.

“That one. Yes. Complimentary. I don’t just like you, I love you for who you are. You’re special and being different makes you special.” Grog admits he tries to fight the heat rising to his cheeks from admitting what he did but when he sees your smile grow, that’s enough to push his pride aside and let it be. Maybe he can do this thing Pike usually does after all? Maybe not unless it’s you. When he tells you he loves you he means it. When he has to say it to the likes of Vax he’d rather eat his own boots for lunch.

You gesture with your hand and beckon the goliath over to come closer. You rise to stand on the edge of the balustrade and wrap your arms around Grog’s neck holding him close. You feel his arms wrap around you in turn and pull you closer to where your feet barely touch the stone.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.” You pull back to look Grog in the eyes as he still holds onto you and take his cheeks between your hands giving him a quick kiss. Grog’s eyes light up and lifts you up higher offering you a kiss of his own. Sweet and short and filled with glee. He sets you back down on your feet but doesn’t let go of you yet.

“Do you want to go back downstairs? Last I checked there was a drinking game going on? Should we show them what we’re made off?” You grin and the proud look on Grog’s face tells you enough to know exactly what you’re talking about.

“Let me tell you the tale of my grand victories-“ Grog starts as he begins leading you back down the stairs, arm wrapped around your shoulders pulling you into his side as you walk.

[glitteryhellhole]

alright lets do this

here we go

Title: The Tent Fandom: Z nation Pairing: 10K x female reader Word count: approx 3k Rating: 18 Description: fluffy smut with awkward cinnamon roll 10K

A gas station. A real life, untouched gas station. Apart from the bloody handprints smeared on the concrete walls.

It didn't take long to sweep and secure the area, then fill up the truck and the reserve cannisters. Afterwards Warren gestured with her gun to the convenience store. “Look for anything useful.”

The place had been untouched since day one. Mummified hot dogs still sitting on a rack. The register hanging open- perhaps in the beginning some people had looted cash, but it didn't take long to realise money didn't mean anything anymore.

You shoved bottles of water and packets of candy into your rucksack before following Addy's gaze to the toiletries shelf. Pads and tampons, little travel-sized bodywashes, an actual toothbrush.

“It's a whole new kind of mercy,” she whistled.

You picked up the first aid kit and the two crushed boxes of painkillers, turning to ask Doc if they'd be any good- and found him and Murphy kneeling on the counter, pulling away the plastic panel which guarded the cigarettes.

Priorities, huh.

Loaded up, you looked around you. Warren was on watch so 10K had let his guard down for once and was poking at the faded magazines. You saw his pink lips move as he mouthed the titles to himself. Something familiar caught his eye, probably the one with guns all over, and he reached up- and the whole top shelf came tumbling down. Suddenly 10K was surrounded by glossy double-page spreads of unnaturally bronzed and perky breasts and butts.

He froze like an animal in a trap.

“Found what you're looking for?” Doc's voice was loud and his arms were cradling an impressive quantity of alcohol. “There's a lot of generic lesbians, over forties, asian fetish, but for a beginner I'd recommend-”

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a crash as 10K backed rapidly out of the shop, cheeks ablaze, taking down a stand of air fresheners and sending sunglasses skittering across the floor in every direction.

The rest of you laughed, for the first time in a while. Back in the truck and passing round bags of only-slightly-stale chips, you all agreed that the gas station was your best find in quite some time.

Except perhaps for the tent.

A little way back, a stranded family had been incredibly grateful for a tow out of the ditch, and had gifted you their spare tent. No ordinary camping gear, this thing was foil-lined and had a built in waterproof, cushioned underlayer. On an especially hot night you'd probably want it to yourself but the rest of the time it comfortably housed two people, keeping in the heat. You'd been taking turns each night, with priority to the injured, meaning that every morning there was at least one person who was fully rested and recharged. Ideal when every day was a battle for survival.

Of course, there was one other advantage to the tent. Privacy. Human needs didn't really get talked about in this un-human world, and whatever got overheard in the night would also go unspoken.

It was nearing dusk and you were pulling over to make camp. “Who's turn in the tent?” Murphy called out as he threw himself down on the ground. “Dibs.”

Warren, who was unloading a heavy bag, gave him a kick in the side. “Get up and help. I don't think 10K's had a turn yet.”

“Neither's she.” He nodded at you.

“Settled then.”

Murphy sniggered.

Since there was plenty of water, there was a rare chance to wash up a bit. Ladies first while the men stood watch with their backs turned, and then vice versa. Nowhere near to having a hot shower in privacy, but it was something. You noticed that 10K didn't bother putting his shirt back on afterwards as he squatted by the fire cleaning his weapons, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

How could somebody so skinny be so strong? Must be the result of life outdoors.

He raised an eyebrow and you realised you were staring. Oops.

“Here.” Somebody passed you a can of cheap beer that had come from the store along with the snacks and cigarettes. It was almost like being at a camp-out. The beer was gross but it gave you a nice warm feeling in your chest, and the idea of lying down somewhere soft started to seem quite appealing, so you said your goodnights and retreated into the tent.

You weren't sure how long it was until you were joined, perhaps you'd started to drift off- the sound of the zip jolted you back to your senses as 10K flopped unceremoniously into the tent, stretching out next to you. “Beer makes shoelaces hard.” He complained.

You giggled and sat up to help. “When was the last time you slept without shoes on?”

“Probably before my voice broke.” He scratched his head while watching you remove his boots and then said, “I'm not good at talking, especially to girls, but you don't scare me.”

“Thanks for the compliment, I think?” You laid back down, closing your eyes and pulling your blanket over you. There was silence for a minute but it was oddly comfortable, the security of a warm person breathing next to you.

“What was your first word?” You asked into the silence. “I bet it was gun.”

“Actually it was primrose.”

“Huh?”

“My momma's favourite flower.” He rolled over onto his stomach, closing the gap between you, and rested his cheek on his folded arms. “I was six. Doctor said I wasn't learning but I was paying attention to everything. She used to take me to the library in town to look at all sorts of books, that where we learned to sign.”

You couldn't help but ask. “When did she...?”

“When I was nine. Pops wanted me to try and be a normal kid but once she'd gone he didn't want anything to do with the rest of the world and stopped sending me to school.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's ok.” He wriggled a little to get more comfortable. “Can you talk for a bit now?”

So you talked about your own parents, and your hometown, and it surely wasn't very interesting but 10K watched you intently as he sobered up, studying your face, and you hoped you weren't blushing. After a while you came to a natural conclusion in your story and realised that his fingers were twitching, as though he were nervous.

What's up?” you asked softly.

He blinked slowly. “Ain't always easy to tell when you're supposed to say stuff and when you're not.”

Unsure what to expect, you gave him an encouraging nod.

“Can I... touch your hair?”

Your heart started to beat a little fast and you nodded again. 10K's fingers reached out timidly to feel you hair, twisting strands and brushing them away from your face.

You hadn't felt human touch in so long, and you couldn't help but rest your head on his arm as he stroked. The pair of you seemed to breathe in unison. It was almost peaceful.

Almost. Apart from the little sparks of electricity that seemed to fizzle into life where your skin touched his.

Could he feel it too? It didn't seem so. There he was growing more and more serene, while you were   warming up in a way that had nothing to do with the insulated tent.

“Um...” You fidgeted awkwardly, trying to choose the right words. “10K? You know why they were giggling right?”

“Uh-huh.” His eyes were closed. “People do stuff in the tent. Its pretty obviously I've never... y'know.”

“Does it bother you?”

“A bit, but its not like I can go meet a girl and ask her Pops if I can take her to the barn dance.”

You couldn't help but laugh a little. “I mean the teasing.”

“Oh.” He blushed slightly as he opened his eyes to look at you. “I get why, you're near my age and you're pretty. Any guy would be lucky to date you.”

Oh indeed. Maybe he did feel it then.

“You could...” You bit your lip and steeled yourself. “You could pretend that you were.”

He sat bolt upright, making you jump, and a wide grin spread across his face. “I could ask you on a picnic, at my favourite place in the woods.” His words were tumbling out fast from nervous excitement. “Make nice bread, Mom's special recipe with the dried fruit. And we could talk like we did earlier and I could pick you flowers and then I could kiss you.”

His lips were clumsy as they first met yours, but eager, and didn't take long to find a groove. You sighed and leaned in, one hand reaching up into his hair, and-

A single gunshot cracked through the air.

In an instant 10K was lurching for the tent entrance where his gun was propped. You reached for your shoes, panic rising in your chest.

“False alarm.” Doc's voice came from outside. “Nothing to worry about. Hey, you okay in there kid? Need me to give ya a quick pep talk on anything?”

“I'm good.” He zipped the flap back up then turned back to you. “Actually do you think maybe I should? I don't really know what to do.”

You couldn't help but laugh again. He was way too innocent for someone so good-looking.

You put and hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.  “Just do what feels natural.”

“Okay.” He gave you another wide grin, showing those adorably crooked teeth, and then practically launched himself at you, so you landed on your back and he was on top of you, lips moulding to the shape of yours. You gasped for air and 10K made an apologetic sound without pausing the kiss, propping himself up on one elbow so that you could breathe.

His hand rested on your stomach, fingers still for a moment before balling up your shirt and gently navigating the exposed skin. Tentative. Like soothing a spooked animal.

You reached your hand up to touch his shoulders, feeling hard muscle under surprisingly soft skin. Tracing his collarbones and around the back of his neck. He shivered and broke the kiss, and you saw his tongue dart out to wet his lips.

“Maybe I could take your shirt off too.” He mumbled. In answer you sat up and held your arms above your head. 10K pulled your shirt over your head- sending the little lamp tied to the tent roof swinging- then looked confused as his thumb hooked into the shoulder strap of your sports bra. You kind of wished you'd been wearing something nicer for this occasion, but you'd dressed for practicality before hitting the road.

“Here. Let me.” You wriggled out of the bra, trying not to elbow him in the process.

“Wowee.” 10K let out a whistle. “You look even better without clothes on. Why would anyone want to look at random pictures?”

It seemed like he could have sat there and stared forever, but you didn't have forever, and so you pulled him in to kiss again. He trailed his lips across your face and on to your neck, one arm supporting you from behind and the other hand landing on your chest, squeezing experimentally.

“Not so hard,” you gasped.

“Sorry. They're squishier than I expected.” He let out a humming noise into the crook of your neck as his fingers found a hard nipple and brushed back and forth.

You dipped your head down too, lightly touching your teeth to his throat. A low growl escaped and he pushed you back down, pressing his body close to yours, and you could feel his eager hardness against your hip.

10K tried the same move, nipping at the skin under your ear. His breathing was very shallow and rapid as he licked and sucked experimentally, moving down over your breasts.

“You taste good. But not in a zombie way.”

Your hands rested on his hips, fingers splaying out to softly squeeze his ass and then dipping below the loose waistband.

“Oh, wait.” He rolled off you to shed a pile of concealed knives and the little sharp discs that he used in the sling shot.

“What else are you hiding down there?” You smirked. For a moment he turned beetroot red and covered his crotch with his hands, but then met your smile with one of his own.

“Just means I like you and I like this.” He shrugged. “Do you-”

“Mmhmm.” You reached out to ease his trouser buttons undone, fumbling slightly, but you weren't nervous. It just felt right with him. “I like you. And I like this.”

He groaned softly as the restriction on his hardness eased and grabbed you for another kiss, this time hungry and slightly sloppy. 10K's fingers found the fastening of your own jeans and made quick work, tugging them down to your knees. Then he paused for a moment, putting a finger to your lips.

There was no noise from outside.

“We're good.” With a bit of awkward shuffling, you both shed your trousers and then looked at each other.

“We probably shouldn't go all the way,” you said almost reluctantly. “No protection and all that. But there's still stuff-”

“Anything.” 10K blurted out without a second's pause. “Everything. I'll do whatever you want. But not what you don't want.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips again as he stared at you earnestly.

You felt a shiver travel down your spine. Nobody had ever looked at you quite like that before. Not just lust but something deeper, as though he was seeing through your skin and right inside you.

“Come here,” he whispered huskily, grabbing your waist and pulling you onto his lap. You sighed into the kiss and slowly moved your hips, letting your centre rub against his as you straddled him, tangling fingers in his messy hair.

10K moaned something that sounded like “shucks” and you couldn't help but snort. What would it take to make him swear? You dug your nails in a little, catching his lip between your teeth.

“Want to touch you.” He moaned, gripping your hips. “Want you to touch me.”

You trailed your hand from his cheek all the way down to cup the pronounced bulge in his boxers and his eyes rolled back in his skull, but then he visibly shook himself and swatted your hand away. “Ladies first.” The hand slid a little clumsily down into your knickers.

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against 10K's, feeling how hot his skin was. His curious fingertips traced your labia and in between.

“It's wet.” He sounded surpised, and brought a thumb to his mouth to taste.

“That's a good thing.” You felt a little self-conscious as you explained, watching him suck his thumb. “It means I'm, you know, turned on.”

“Show me how to make it feel good,” he murmured, lifting you off his lap and laying you back down before tugging your knickers all the way down and spreading your legs.

You took his hand in yours and guided him, showing him your clit. His marksman fingertips quickly picked it up and he kissed you again as he touched you. “Am I doing it right?”

“Yeah you're- oh, yeah thats good.” Your voice was high-pitched and breathy. 10K made a satisfied “hmph” and nuzzled into your neck. He smelled of safety. Less dirt and blood than usual, traces of soap, whatever he was using for hair gel, engine oil. Sweat but not in the just-been-running-and-fighting way, in the musky hormonal way.

The feeling swelling inside you was something you hadn't experienced, hadn't even thought about, in a long time. But here and now it was growing, consuming, and you couldn't imagine anything other than his touch, his hot breath on your cheek.

“Hey.” 10K's voice was husky again. “You need something else?”

You became aware that your hips were twitching. “A bit faster maybe?”

A moan escaped your lips as he obliged, and 10K grinned. “That's hot.” Then he cocked his head to one side, raising his eyebrows. “I assume girls can- y'know-”

“It looks a bit different but yes.” You were gasping now as you spoke, chest rising and falling.

“Do it for me.” He murmured, watching you as though hypnotised and biting his lip. His words and his gaze loosened the coiled spring that was weighing down your abdomen and the endorphins came rushing as you climaxed.

“Shh.” He pressed his mouth to yours and swallowed your moan, pressing his fingers harder as you moved beneath him until it became almost too much. “Do you want them to hear us?”

You shook your head, trying to control your breathing.

“Maybe you do.” He raised an eyebrow again as his fingers finally slowed to a halt. “I kinda do. So they all know what I just did to you.”

“Do you want your turn or not?”

That shut him up. He glanced down and you followed his gaze. He was still very much erect, and there was now a distinct wet patch where he'd leaked a little in excitement.

You pushed 10K onto his back and settled yourself next to him. “Let me know if something's not ok,” you told him. “I won't do anything you don't want.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. He flinched a little as you pulled his boxers down but then his face relaxed and his lips parted as you touched him.

“Have you done this to yourself?” You asked. “So you know what you like.”

He nodded, looking somewhat bashful. “A few times. But this is different. Better.”

It was your turn to grin as your fingers circled his erection and found a rhythm. 10K's head tilted back and the smallest of high-pitched noises escaped his open mouth. You lowered your lips to his exposed neck and sucked gently at the skin. There was a red mark when you pulled away.

“Mmmph.” He rasped through gritted teeth. “Again.”

“It'll leave a bruise.”

“Don't care.”

You began to create a trail of little hickeys down his throat and across his collarbones as you continued to stroke, and his tiny whimpers grew more frequent. You knew it wouldn't be long.

10K was holding onto you tightly, nails digging in, droplets of sweat visible on his forehead. “I think I'm gonna- ahh....” He seemed to lose the ability to speak as you attacked his neck again, eyes rolling back. A few moments later, his hips bucked and you could feel hot sticky warmth coat your fingers.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

So he did swear after all.

You kissed him again, and then looked down. “Um, got anything to clean up with?”

Still breathing heavily, 10K sat up and reached for his trousers, pulling a bandana out of one of the many pockets. “It's my least favourite. I'll burn it.”

Like the gentleman he'd been raised to be, he wiped your hand off first before tending to himself, then tossed the soiled cloth out of the way and pulled you close. You rested your head on his chest. You'd heard the term 'afterglow' but never really thought that it was a thing; it apparently was. The chemicals your brain was releasing and the protective hold of his arms made you want to laugh, and cry, and drift off to sleep, and run a mile, all at once.

Just for a moment, there was no apocalypse. There was only you and him and the little lamp above your heads.

It was 10K who broke the spell. “I need to pee.” he said apologetically. “Like, real bad.”

You laughed at the face he was pulling and threw his trousers at him. 10K slithered with some difficulty into them, kicking the side of the tent, and then stumbled outside.

You realised how cold it was now and reached for your own clothes. As footsteps indicated 10K's return, you could have sworn you heard the sound of a high-five.

“What was that?” You demanded as he re-entered the tent.

“Never mind.” He grabbed the blanket and laid it over you.”I  want to do that again. But we should probably get some sleep.”

“The whole point of the tent is to get proper rest right?” You scooted closer as he laid down, offering the blanket, but he refused, tucking it round you and then wrapping his arms round too so you were tightly cocooned against his side.

“Yeah. Sure.”

>>>>>Thanks for reading! This is the first fanfic i’ve done in literally years. Open to feedback and even perhaps requests :) PS i am v english so I apologise to any Americans insulted by my attempts at your words

[intheticklecloset]

You're the Coolest (Haikyuu!!)

Primary Universe

@happyandticklish We're going back in time again! Consider this a bit of backstory for the events of "Burn Some Calories." I personally really love this one; there's not enough ticklish Noya in the world and he's so dang cute! Thanks so much for the fun prompt! Enjoy! ^^

~

This little first-year was at once making him look really bad and pushing him to do even better.

From the moment he’d introduced himself, Yuu Nishinoya had taken the court by storm. The kid was a natural libero, able to receive and defend better than anyone Asahi had ever known before. His bright smile and outgoing personality lit up the gym, making practice both more fun and more intense as everyone strove to do better, inspired by his energy.

Asahi admired him greatly for that. He, too, promised to work harder and improve in all areas so he could be worthy of sharing the court with Noya. As time went on, though, he found that it didn’t seem to matter how hard he worked; the first-year was always several steps ahead of him. While Daichi, Suga, and the others began to serve better, block better, and spike better, he himself – the ace of the team – remained steadfast in doing just as well as he always had. Sure, every practice was helping him improve, but only marginally compared to his teammates. Noya was always smiling and encouraging, but Asahi felt more and more like he was being left behind, and the weight was crushing him.

All of that changed one night after practice.

“All right, guys,” the captain announced, “time to call it a day. First-years, clean up. Second-years, put the gear away.”

Everyone shouted their affirmation and scattered to do as they were told.

Noya came bounding up to him, grinning. “You were great today, Asahi! You’ve been working on your serves, right? I can tell.”

Asahi gave him a tired smile. “You don’t have to do that, Noya.”

“Huh? Do what?”

“Act like I’m making such great progress.” Asahi gripped the ball he was holding before tossing it into the bin nearby. “I’m obviously not.”

“Sure you are.” Noya looked up at him, eyes wide and earnest. “If I’m having to work harder to receive them, that means you’ve been working harder to improve them. It’s logic.”

“That’s more a testament to how amazing you are than anything.”

“You think I’m amazing?”

Asahi looked down at his underclassman, astonished. “Of course I think that. You are amazing, Noya.”

Noya beamed, gently pushing his fist into Asahi’s chest. “You’re amazing, too, ace.”

“Not compared to you. You’re so…so energetic and adaptive and tough, and I’m…I’m none of those things.”

“Tough? I’m not tough,” Noya laughed. “You’re the tough one.”

Asahi tossed another volleyball into the basket. “Yeah, right.”

“You are!”

“Noya!” Tanaka snapped from the supplies closet. “A little help would be nice!”

“Hang on a second, Tanaka,” the libero called back. “I’m giving a pep talk here.” He turned to look up at Asahi again. “You’ve got to believe in yourself more, dude. I can see you’re improving. All of us can. Why can’t you?”

“Sure, I’m improving. Just not enough.”

“Everyone moves at their own pace.”

“I’ll never be as awesome as you.”

Noya frowned, and the look was so unusual for him that it gave Asahi pause. “I’m not as invincible as you think I am, Asahi. I’ve got weaknesses, too.”

“I have yet to see one.”

“Where do I start? My test scores are average at best, I’m total crap at serving – kind of why I chose to play libero, honestly. Oh, and don’t get me started on my luck with girls—”

“I meant physically,” Asahi said quickly, putting an end to that train of thought. “Physical weaknesses. On the court. I haven’t seen any.”

Noya hesitated for a moment, suddenly looking embarrassed. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening in, then lowered his voice. “Look, I’ll admit something to you, because you need the encouragement and I trust you. But you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone else, okay?”

Asahi swallowed, nodding.

“I’m ticklish,” Noya said quickly, cheeks turning pink as he spoke. “Like, stupidly ticklish. One poke and I’m completely useless.”

Asahi stared at him. He scanned him up and down, his mind automatically filling in the blanks. Ribs, sides, waist, knees. All places he’d attack first if he were to tickle Noya. Not that he was going to, of course. Not after the libero had specifically said he trusted him.

“Oh,” he said at last, voice soft. He blinked, straightened. “Well…I suppose that counts.”

“Nishinoya!” Tanaka yelled.

Noya whirled around and ran to him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!”

Asahi watched him go, then blindly – as if in a daze – picked up the rest of the volleyballs and helped take down the net, putting it away for the night. Ticklish, he thought, and that was all he could think. Noya’s ticklish. Noya’s ticklish. Noya’s ticklish.

Once the gym had been cleared up and cleaned up and the captain had locked the doors, Noya found Asahi again, prancing up to him as if it was the first time he’d seen him all week. “So, feeling better now, ace?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess so.” Asahi took one glance at the libero’s smiling face and lost all control. He wanted to see that smile more. Wanted to make him smile like that more. He was dying to hear what Noya sounded like when he was tickled. So, in a flash, he grabbed the little first-year’s sides and squeezed.

As promised, Noya immediately burst into giggles and crumpled to the ground, his legs giving out beneath him. “Nohohoho, Asahi!” he pleaded, holding up his hands defensively as the ace knelt down to join him and dug in again, more purposefully this time. “Nahahahahahahahaha! P-Please, I tohohohhohold you, I’m reheheheheheally ticklihihihihish!”

“You had to know I’d want to see for myself,” Asahi countered, beaming at the adorable sight but lightening his touch slightly.

“Ahahahahahahahaha! Sehehehehehee?! I’m n-nohohohohohot so tohohohohough, am I?”

“You’re the toughest person I know, Noya.” Asahi snatched up both of his wrists and held them above his head, using his free hand to wiggle his fingertips into the grooves of the libero’s ribcage. Noya spasmed, laughter spilling out of him faster than he seemed able to keep up with. “You’re just a sensitive guy, that’s all.”

“Tehehehehehell that to the lahahahahahahadies!” Noya retorted, squealing when Asahi found the backs of his ribs and kneaded there. He tossed his head back and laughed unguarded. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Part of Asahi thought he should stop, but another, stronger part of him found that he simply couldn’t. Noya losing control of himself like this was just so…so unprecedented and unusual, not to mention the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He swung a leg over to pin his thighs down and dug in a little harder, enjoying the shriek he got in response.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE, ASAHIHIEHEHEHEHE!!” Noya begged, smiling uncontrollably as mirth burst out of him in helpless waves. “STOP, PLEHEHEHEHEASE, I CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IT!!”

“You’re really ticklish, huh, Noya?” Asahi asked, half-teasing, half-serious. He trailed his fingers down to the libero’s belly and scribbled there. “It’s kind of cute.”

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UP!! I’M NOT CUHUHUHUHUHUHUTE!!” Noya insisted even through his frantic cackling and squirming. “I’M THE COHOHOHOHOHOOL, CONFIDENT LIHIHIHIHIHIBERO!!”

Asahi laughed with him at that. “Oh, are you, now? Not so cool and confident when I’ve got you pinned down like this, hmm?” He poked at Noya’s belly button, chuckling at the “eep!” he got as a reward. “Let’s see. Where’s your worst spot?”

“HAAH?!” Noya made a distressed noise through his giggling, twisting every which way under Asahi’s grasp. “N-Nohohoho, no, plehehease don’t, I cahahahahan’t take it! Reheheheheally!”

“I haven’t even found it yet!”

“Y-You wihihihihihill,” Noya replied, sounding nervous, his eyes panicked. “T-Then you’ll nehehever want to stop. Nohohoho one ever dohohoes.”

At that, Asahi pulled back, releasing Noya entirely as he climbed off of him. He frowned. “Whoa, dude, I’m sorry. Is this…is this traumatic for you?”

“No,” Noya groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes, still laying on the ground. “It’s just…I’ve got this reputation, you know? You were telling me yourself that you think I’m some awesome, unbeatable volleyball star. I…I like being cool like that. And this undermines that coolness.”

“Then why did you tell me?” Asahi asked. “If you were worried it would ruin your reputation?”

“Because it’s you,” Noya said, uncovering his eyes to look at him. “I trust you.”

I trust you. Those words again, with more meaning this time. Asahi smiled at him. “Then do you believe me when I say I’ll never tell anyone else about this? I’ll preserve your reputation. Don’t worry.”

“But…” the libero looked away, seeming embarrassed again. “My worst spot makes me sound ridiculous when I’m tickled there. There’s no coming back from that once you’ve heard it. That’s why I…I don’t want you to try it.”

Asahi felt a little wounded. “Why? Do you think I’ll think less of you?”

“Everyone always does. Once you lose your cool, you’re no longer cool. You know?”

“Noya, I’ll never think you’re not cool just because you’re a little ticklish. That’s silly.” When the libero didn’t answer, he continued, “But if you want me to stop here, I will.”

Noya turned to look at him again, and he frowned. “You really want to, don’t you?”

Asahi could feel himself blushing, but he couldn’t help it. “I mean…yeah. Tickling you just now was…was fun. I’d like to hear what other sounds you make. But not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Ugh.” The first-year covered his face with his hands. “You’re the cool one, Asahi. I’d never let anyone else do this, you know? You’re the only one allowed to see me like this.”

Asahi’s heart leapt. “So…is it okay? Or do you want me to stop?”

“It’s my thighs.”

There was a pause. Taking that as an invitation, Asahi cautiously reached out to try said spot, but stopped when he realized Noya was still hiding. He leaned forward and gently pried his hands away, forcing him to make eye contact. The ace smiled, then carefully grabbed one of the libero’s thighs and squeezed.

Noya spasmed again, his smile back in an instant, and just as instantly covered up again.

“Don’t hide,” Asahi said, pulling his hands away again. “I want to see that smile.”

“You’re the worst,” Noya whined, giggling. “The actual worst. I can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me-EEEEEE!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Asahi chuckled, scratching and scribbling along his thighs, enjoying how the lightest touch forced him into this amount of hysterics. “You know what, Noya? This is way more than just cute. This is cool.” He found the inner thighs and kneaded, making the libero toss his head back and scream like a banshee. “This is really, really cool.”

“NO IT’S NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHASAHIIIEEEEEE!!”

“Yes it is! Seeing you laugh so freely like that, like you don’t care who’s watching or listening? That’s really awesome. You’re the coolest, Noya.”

“SHUT UP, SHUT UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUP!!”

“Don’t be rude! I’m your upperclassman. I know what I’m talking about.” Asahi left Noya’s thighs, darting back up to his ribs and scribbling wildly, enjoying the tussle of trying to keep up while the little libero squirmed around on the ground, curling up, giggling wildly. “You’re so cool. The best first-year in the bunch. Don’t tell the others, though.”

“Please,” Noya wheezed, grabbing onto Asahi’s wrists, too weak to actually push them away. “Please, stohohohohop tehehehehelling me I’m cohohohohool whihihihihile you’re tihihihihihickling me!”

“But you are!” Asahi insisted, grinning at how red Noya’s cheeks were becoming. “I already thought you were cool, but your laughter is awesome. I think you’re cool whether you’re ticklish or not. I want you to believe me. Do you, Noya? Do you believe me?”

“Yehehehehehes, all rihihihihight, I’m the c-cohohohohohoolest kid on the theheheheheam!” Noya relented, giggling so hard he was gasping for breath. “Plehehehehease, stahahahahahap it! Let me gohohohohoho!”

Beaming, Asahi did as he was asked, allowing Noya to catch his breath before reaching down to squeeze his shoulder. “You’re the best, you know that? When you’re around I always want to do better. To improve. Having you share this with me and letting me indulge a little bit makes me feel like I can do anything. Because if our cool, confident libero trusts me enough to do this, there’s nothing I can’t do. Right?”

Nishinoya looked up at him incredulously, then burst out laughing all over again. “Oh my god, you’re such a sap!” he cried, clutching his stomach as he rolled onto his side. “All right, fine, you’ve convinced me. I’m glad my being so stupidly ticklish makes you feel invincible.”

“You’re not stupidly ticklish. You’re extremely ticklish,” Asahi countered, reaching down to scribble at his belly. “Because you’re an extremely cool person.”

Noya beamed, giggling, allowing his friend to have a little more fun at his expense.

From that day forward, he never called his sensitivity stupid again.

[milkybonya]

Butterfly

order 015, anon: large banana milk tea with lychee jelly and pudding for Asahi

Warnings: some angst (injuries, crying mentions) and food mentions

Summary: a coffee shop! enemies to lovers! soulmate!au all in one where Asahi, an expert barista and newbie!y/n's supervisor is easily angered by small mistakes, but ends up falling for his new employee as they begin to hone their craft, and even more so when he discovers the butterfly birthmark at the nape of their neck which matches his own.

*disclaimer! i'm not a barista but am writing using the minimal experience i have acquired after working in a place that makes coffee but isn't as artsy as a coffee shop,, so please forgive any inaccuracies!

[a/n] Alex if u see this LOOK IT'S A COFFEE SHOP AU HHH

After being lucky enough to get hired on the spot at your city's most famous coffee shop, you walk in on your first day, excited to make coffee and serve customers. The day does not greet you well, though, as your already nervous state is worsened when your supervisor and coworker, a dashing young man with black hair parted around his face, gives you a hard time.

Asahi is extremely cold and quiet, only yelling when he speaks to tell the employees to do their job right. He yells at you twice: once for forgetting to clean the steamed milk frother, and another time for when you serve the customers coffee that isn't fresh.

It leaves you feeling jittery to a point where you continue to make mistakes.

"[y/n], finish that order and meet me in the back," Asahi tells you, his voice completely emotionless.

Once you join him in the back, you find him sweeping, his hair falling in his eyes and prickling his nose. As soon as he notices you're there, he puts the broom away, pushing the hair out of his eyes before he turns to face you.

"[y/n], I realize that it's your first day, but you're doing an absolutely terrible job," he says.

"Our work here is more fast paced than you think, and if you can't handle it and keep getting nervous and slipping up, then I don't think we can keep you here."

Your bottom lip begins to tremble hearing the harsh criticism on what is only your first day, but luckily, a coworker who overheard everything steps in.

"Hey, Asahi! Big boss man, calm down. It's only their first day... stop being so hard on them," your coworker says, placing an arm around you.

When you look to see who it was, you discover that it's Junkyu, your bright and happy coworker who always does his job with a smile. Even just seeing him makes you smile, and he smiles back at you, patting your head.

"[y/n] is doing just great, so you can shut up!" Junkyu huffs, dragging you out and back onto the floor.

You may wonder why Junkyu was being so rude to his boss, but Asahi and Junkyu are actually close friends, so it's okay for them to get mad at each other like this.

"Don't listen to Asahi. He's like an old man sometimes," Junkyu says.

"And it's okay to get nervous! I was spilling so many things everywhere on my first day. Just take your time..." Junkyu explains, showing you how to do all the things that you messed up on before.

Asahi watches from the other side of the shop, feeling angry at the sight of Junkyu being so close to you, for some reason. He also thinks... he sees something on the back of your neck that matches his own birthmark, but he shrugs it off, telling himself he's just seeing things.

-

With the worst luck, you continue making mistakes every time Asahi shows up, and he scolds you for it in front of your coworkers and the customers each time. Sometimes, you have to rush to the break room to catch your breath and even cry it out, stare yourself down in the mirror and tell yourself that you're doing a great job.

"You're doing great, [y/n]! Don't worry about Asahi... you're doing great," you say.

Asahi, who is in the back of the shop in search of coffee grinds, overhears your pep talk and smiles to himself, immediately frowning as soon as you step out of the break room and face him, though.

"What are you doing? Get back out there!" he says.

You leave quickly and don't notice Asahi smiling at the way you waddle towards the front.

-

Despite being nervous at the beginning, your barista skills improve rapidly. You're able to master latte art after only a week and a half, creating pretty designs that are different for each customer. Your designs gain popularity and the shop grows busier with people waiting for you to hand them a pretty latte that you've designed.

Asahi still doesn't seem to want to give you praise of any sort, though, as he constantly points out your mistakes.

"It looks good, but does it taste good? You clearly went too heavy on the milk."

Even his your coworkers grow tired of Asahi, and everyone starts calling him angry bird Asahi behind his back with the way his eyebrows are pointed in a frown each time he comes to scold you.

For you, though, it doesn't matter anymore. You've found something you love and are improving in it rapidly, so Asahi's bitter attitude can't harm you anymore.

-

One short-staffed day, you're alone, closing the shop alongside Asahi. The two of you clean up in silence, save for Asahi's hushed hums as he sweeps.

Not noticing a paper bag on the ground, you trip on it and fall on your knees and hands.

Your yelp leaves Asahi rushing over, even though you thought he would just ignore your pain.

"[y/n], what happened?! Are you okay?" he asks, leaning down.

He pauses midway, staring at the back of your exposed neck. His fingers reach out in disbelief to touch what he sees, but he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable and stops himself.

A butterfly birthmark, just like the one on the back of his own neck. A shared butterfly birthmark in the same location: a sign of soulmates.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. I just tripped.

"Y-you're not bleeding or anything, right?" Asahi asks, suddenly breathless.

"Nope, all good!" you say, standing up and feeling confused at Asahi's flustered state.

"Are you okay? Why do you seem so panicked?" you ask.

"I'm... I was just worried that's all," he quickly says, returning to where he was sweeping.

He really found his soulmate despite not believing in the butterfly soulmate thing anyway....

-

Asahi is really weird around you for the next week, not scolding you anymore but just being super quiet and seemingly cautious around you. Everyone is confused as to what happened to angry bird Asahi, and feeling a little worried yourself, you approach him in his office on your break one day.

"Is everything okay, Asahi?"

"Hm? Yeah... why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know... you just seem more quiet than usual."

Asahi stares at the ground, wondering if he should tell you about your shared birthmarks.

Ah heck, let's just go for it, he thinks to himself.

He swivels around in his hair, turning his back to you and holding up his hair at the back of his head.

"Does this look familiar to you?" he asks, pointing to the birthmark at the nape of his neck.

You gasp, feeling the back of your own neck.

The birthmark looks exactly the same...

"Wha-?"

"I don't know what to do. Because frankly, I don't believe in any of this soulmate crap, but we're really soulmates..." Asahi says.

Your eyes, on the other hand, are sparkling. You've believed in soulmates since the beginning and always wondered who would have the same birthmark as you. It's weird to think that angry bird Asahi is your soulmate, but you don't want to lose this chance.

"What else do we do but go on a date!" you say, hugging his arm out of excitement.

Asahi glares at you and you pull away, clearing your throat.

"Friday after work! Wait for me and we'll go somewhere," you say, excitedly leaving Asahi's office.

He places a hand on his heart, feeling it beat a little faster than usual.

-

Friday, you notice Asahi's hair is looking a little different - all straightened, neat and tidy. Asahi also doesn't fail to notice that you're looking a little fancier than your usual self. Even Junkyu bothers you about it, asking why you look really prim and proper today.

When Asahi's shift ends, he has an hour to kill until yours does, so he spends that time in his office at the back, watching you make pretty drinks with you latte art through the security cameras. He has a full view of your butterfly birthmark and suddenly wonders what it would be like if he was able to kiss it.

Finally as soon as your shift ends, you rush out, forgetting to say goodbye to everyone unlike you usually do, but also forgetting to punch out. Asahi reminds you to do that as soon as you step into his office. The way he smiles when you swing open the door, his teeth peeking out while his eyes hide away, makes you feel like he's happy to see you... though he's just giggling at your mistake.

Once you're punched out and ready to leave, you step out of there and take the bus to an art gallery that you've always wanted to explore. You notice Asahi staring down into your lap as you ride the bus, shyly looking at your hands, fidgeting his own and then looking away. You become the brave one for the both of you and take his hand in yours, smiling at the window when he looks at you.

You take your time looking at the artwork, both of you quietly walking while holding hands. You only talk to ask each other if you're ready to move on to the next piece.

After some time, though, Asahi speaks up and asks you if he can take a photo of you standing in front of a butterfly painting.

"Just keep looking at it and I'll take a photo from the back."

Once he stands behind you, you feel awkward and stiff in front of the camera, and it probably shows, as Asahi asks you to relax.

"Just be like you usually would!"

You try your best and Asahi eventually takes the photo.

"Can I see?" you ask him.

"Later," he says, smiling down at his phone.

On the floor below the gallery, there's a place to grab food and the two of you do just that, gushing about how cool the art in the gallery was and what your favourite pieces were. Asahi tries to imitate this robot statue you saw made of metal, and it makes you laugh so hard that you almost get kicked out.

"Asahi, I never thought you would be this fun," you say.

"Well, at work I do have to be somewhat professional," he says, smiling at you.

"At work you're just a jerk," you mumble, thinking Asahi can't hear you, even though he does.

He decides to stop being so hard on you at work, and actually follows through. Work becomes more enjoyable without angry bird Asahi and with all of the dates you go one with Asahi after work. Eventually, the two of you start to officially date, and Junkyu is shocked to his core.

"H-how did this happen...? And why did no one tell me!" he screeches when he finds out.

-

Asahi presses his lips to the back of your neck in the dark of the room, his lips curving into a smile when he hears your giggle.

"What are you doing, Sahi?"

"Something I've always wanted to do," he says, burying his face into your chest.

It's his turn to giggle as you run your fingers through his hair, tracing his butterfly birthmark with your finger.