#in the mocks there was some prompt that was like 'i got a text from my mom and i was happy heres why'

[dullahandyke]

i hate writing shit in irish... this is just a personal essay except i dont know how to speak in this language! let me just write bizarre nonsensical bullshit

[sugoroo]

SHARING IS CARING!

ʚɞ summary: satoru agrees to share his girlfriend with kento for one night to help ease some of the stress he’s been under lately! but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make it easy for his co-worker.

warnings: fem!reader, voyeurism, cuck!satoru, oral (m receiving), breast play, penetration (p in v), fingering, pussydrunk nanami, squirting, praise kink, 18+ minors dni.

wc: 7.1k

despite how much satoru enjoys teasing his co-worker kento nanami, he can see how much stress the other man has been under lately. it’s clear from the heavy bags underneath his eyes, the way his back is almost permanently hunched in exhaustion.

the white-haired sorcerer spent an embarrassingly long amount of time in his office brainstorming different ideas to attempt to cheer nanami up. his usual go-to for anyone else would be to buy them some sweets, but he has a feeling that wouldn’t be too appreciated in this situation.

and then, after his phone buzzed with a newly received text from you: his pretty little girlfriend who was currently waiting for him at home — a lightbulb lit up in his head.

he could give you to nanami to cheer him up.

well, when he says ‘give’, of course he really means lending you to nanami. a one-time only gift (that must be returned after use) as it were.

and satoru will unarguably be present to observe the entire interaction too — he has to make sure nanami treats his sweet girl the way she deserves, after all. if the other man was to leave you unsatisfied, he would very possibly have to hollow purple him.

(and he also wouldn’t be completely opposed to watching his much-too-uptight co worker unravel before his eyes, either. but he’ll keep that part to himself.)

pleased with his newest idea, satoru practically skips along the halls on the way to nanami's office, a wide grin stretched across his lips and anticipation buzzing throughout his body.

"hellooo, nanamin!" he coos obnoxiously once he arrives outside his co-worker's office, craning his neck to peek his head around the doorway. "you in here?"

nanami audibly sighs at the sound of the white-haired man's voice, glancing up briefly from his desk with an unimpressed look pulling at his visibly exhausted features. "yes, gojo, i'm clearly in here. what is it you want this time?"

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender, his grin never faltering as he steps fully inside the office. it's clear he's up to no good (even more so than usual), given the way he's practically vibrating on the spot with excitement.

"well?" the blonde man prompts impatiently, his eyes already cast back down to the various piles of paperwork splayed across his desk. he's evidently in no mood to deal with satoru's mischief.

"now now, don't rush me!" he huffs in response, his lower lip jutting out in an overdramatic pout despite knowing nanami isn't even looking in his direction right now. "this is a very... sensitive topic. so i'm gonna need you to pay suuuper close attention. got it?"

at this, nanami looks up from his papers, his annoyance slowly morphing into cautiousness. "sensitive how? this better not be about you wanting to know how many people i've bedded in the past, because i already told you that i will never dignify such a shameless question with an answer."

"what? no! it's not about that," satoru chuckles amusedly, before tapping the bottom of his chin with a slender finger in a theatrical display of thought. "....although, i really should find out the answer to that eventually."

nanami rolls his eyes all the way to the back of his head behind his goggles, bringing two fingers up to rub his temple. "i don't have time for this, gojo. whatever it is you came here to ask, will you just spit it out already?"

"alright, alriiight!" the white-haired sorcerer whines petulantly, sauntering further into the office and leaning his elbows against his co-worker's desk like he owns the place. "so, i've noticed you've been under a lot of stress lately—"

"which is none of your business, might i add." the other man deadpans bluntly, his lips set into their usual tight line as he regards satoru.

"sure. but, as your co-worker and friend, i've decided to make it my business," he retorts without missing a beat, waving a pale hand dismissively in nanami's direction as he continues speaking. "and i've come up with the perfect solution to cheer you up!"

nanami raises a blonde eyebrow at this, visibly still cautious but (hopefully) a little curious now. "oh, have you now?" he mutters tightly, attempting to hide the subtle interest hiding under his tone. but satoru notices, because of course he does.

"mhmm," satoru croons mischievously, his grin morphing into a little smirk as he leans further across the desk. "would you like to hear it, nanamin?"

the interest in his colleague's expression is gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by irritation yet again as he releases a deep sigh. "i'm not in the mood for your games, gojo. are you going to tell me or not?"

"ugh, fine," the white-haired man groans dramatically, rolling his eyes behind his blindfold. "can't blame a guy for trying to build up a little suspense."

satoru rifles around in his pocket for a few moments before pulling out his phone, instantly thrusting the device directly into nanami's face with absolutely no context.

"what—" nanami begins, his words quickly trailing off into an unintelligible sound of some description once he catches sight of the picture being displayed on his colleague's lock screen. "oh."

"like what you seee?" he coos obnoxiously from behind the phone, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to get a better view of the other man's reaction. "just kidding - i know you do."

"this... is that your girlfriend?" the blonde man croaks out, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically flustered. "and why is that your lockscreen, for the love of god?"

satoru just shrugs nonchalantly, jerking the phone back towards himself and taking a moment to admire the photo of you. it's your pretty body, completely bare on his bed, perky breasts on full display and smooth legs spread wide to reveal your abused pussy which was just oozing with ropes of his goopy cum.

"yes, it's my girlfriend," he hums proudly, shoving the device back into his pocket before fixing nanami with another wide grin. "and why not? it's not like anyone else sees it except me. until now, obviously."

"right," the other man breathes out, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly in a poor attempt to try and compose himself. "and, pray tell, why did you feel the need to show me that?"

satoru huffs dramatically, as if having to actually explain the proposition he's come up with is taking a serious toll on him. "come onn, nanamin. use that brilliant brain of yours! i say i have a way to relieve some of your stress, and then i show you that picture..."

nanami visibly tenses as the realization of what his colleague is suggesting washes over him, his eyes narrowing into cautious slits. but he doesn't want to get ahead of himself, just in case he misinterpreted his words, so he settles for saying — "is this another one of those highly unamusing pranks of yours, gojo?"

the white-haired man rolls his eyes yet again, leaning even closer over the desk and tilting his head to the side in a playful manner. "you really think i'd show you a naked picture of my girl if this was just a prank?"

as much as it irks nanami to admit, even to himself, his co-worker does has a point there.

"touché." he grumbles under his breath, trying his best to keep up his uninterested façade despite how obviously affected he is by seeing that picture of you; needless to say, he thinks satoru is a very lucky man.

"that's all you're gonna say? touché?" satoru repeats incredulously, throwing his hands up in the air theatrically. "no 'yes please, gojo, i'd love to get me some of that'?"

"first of all, i would never say it so crudely," the blonde man retorts with his nose wrinkled in not-so-subtle disgust, shaking his had faintly. "and second of all, i'm not the sort of man who takes what doesn't belong to him."

satoru snorts out a loud laugh at this. "ugh, drop the serious act for a minute, nanamin! it's not like you're stealing her away from me or anything. i'm just offering some... one-time only stress relief, that's all."

"whatever you say, gojo," he mutters dismissively, waving a hand in his direction before rubbing his temple yet again. "even if i was to consider such a proposition, have you asked your girlfriend if she would be willing to participate?"

"yeah, sooo, about that..." satoru responds in an elongated hum, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly.

"satoru—"

"wait, wait! just let me explain," the white-haired man squeaks hurriedly, waving around his hands theatrically. the rare use of his first name from his colleague clearly shows just how annoyed he is at this point. "i was so excited when i came up with the idea that i kinda-maybe-definitely forgot to ask her."

"why am i not surprised?" nanami huffs bluntly, clearly losing whatever interest he may have begrudgingly gained when he saw the photo.

but just before he can return to his work, satoru quickly speaks up again. "hey, wait just a minute! she's my girl, and i know my girl. she'll say yes."

nanami pauses for a few moments, silently cursing the way he's actually considering this insane proposition. but there's two facts he can't deny — one: he has been under a lot of stress lately, and he wouldn't exactly mind releasing it. and two: satoru's girlfriend is incredibly attractive.

much to his chagrin, he doesn't have a good reason to say no.

"...alright."

and that's how kento nanami finds himself standing outside your and satoru's apartment a week later, his fist hovering just above the door as he attempts to process what's awaiting him on the other side.

he can't quite believe he's actually going to 'release his stress' by using satoru's pretty little girlfriend who he's never even met before today. but he knows that not going through with it isn't an option — especially when he'll have to endure his colleague's relentless teasing afterwards.

so he knocks.

and it's you who opens the door, dressed in nothing but one of satoru's old shirts that is definitely much too long for you, the baggy fabric practically swallowing you whole as you stand before nanami.

"oh!" you gasp in realization as you look up at him, a small smile spreading across your lips as you kindly extend a hand to the man in front of you. "you must be kento! toru's told me a lot about you."

nanami, much to his own embarrassment, takes a few long moments to recover from the sight of you. somehow, you're even more beautiful in person than you were in that photo on his co-worker's lockscreen (despite being much more... clothed now.)

"ahem. yes, that's me," he murmurs after swallowing roughly, taking your hand in his own to give it a quick shake. he tries not to let his eyes linger too long on the size difference between them; how your hand practically disappears beneath his. "all good things, i hope?"

"oh, of course." you chuckle softly, stepping to the side and opening the door a little wider in a silent initiation for him to come inside. this is it — his last chance to just blow this whole thing off and drive home.

but he doesn't take that chance.

instead, he shuffles inside with a polite smile in your direction, pulling his other hand from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of flowers he'd bought on the way over here; he wasn't exactly sure what was an appropriate gift for someone else's girlfriend who was going to let him have sex with her, so he settled for some simple roses.

you close the door behind the two of you, your eyes widening when they fall on the flowers. how very... gentlemanly. you hadn't expected him to bring any type of present tonight — from what you'd gathered from satoru, this was going to be a very transactional exchange.

"sorry... is this too forward?" nanami mutters a little awkwardly, toying with the petal of one of the roses. "if you don't want them, i can go put them back in my—"

"no, no! they're beautiful," you say quickly, grasping the bouquet from him with a warm smile stretching across your lips. "it's really sweet of you. i just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

the blonde man seems to relax slightly at this, his tensed shoulders slowly deflating and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. it's clear he's never done anything like this before; but then again, neither have you.

but when satoru had come to you with the idea of helping out his thoroughly overworked colleague and friend, who also happened to be quite handsome (in your boyfriend's words), you couldn't help but agree.

and satoru definitely underestimated kento's appearance with that measly description. he's more than quite handsome — he's gorgeous, with those well-kempt blonde locks and that ridiculously sharp jawline that could probably cut glass.

...let's just say you're not having any last minute regrets about agreeing to this.

"so, how about you go and make yourself comfortable in the living room while i put these in some water?" you suggest kindly, gesturing to doorway on the left as you head in the direction of the kitchen with the bouquet in your hands.

nanami nods in agreement, ducking his head to fit underneath the doorframe as he saunters into the living room of your apartment. it's cozy and small, with little trinkets that just scream satoru gojo scattered around the area.

of course that man has to make even his living room as chaotic as he is.

he plops down onto the couch, his still somewhat tense body sinking into the comfortable material. he feels more relaxed already than he has in months — it must be something to do with the warm atmosphere in your home (or the promise of what's to come.)

his respite doesn't last for long, however, because satoru comes bounding down the stairs, his blindfold askew and his grin wide when he notices nanami sitting there in his living room. "heyyy, nanamin! you're actually here! i figured you'd chicken out last minute, honestly."

the blonde man rolls his eyes behind his goggles, shooting his colleague a thoroughly unimpressed look in response to his statement; as if he hadn't just been considering 'chickening out', as gojo put it, moments ago outside the front door.

but he doesn't have to know that.

"well, i didn't." he settles for sighing bluntly, raising a neatly trimmed eyebrow when satoru drapes himself across the couch next to him like an oversized cat, practically taking up every inch of spare space.

"what's that look for?" satoru snickers obnoxiously, slinging his lanky legs over nanami's lap as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "this is my house you're in right now, remember? i can do what i want."

before nanami can even think of replying, you start padding into the room, shooting your boyfriend what can only be described as a disapproving look. "toru, stop harassing our guest."

the white-haired man lets out a petulant whine in response, grasping your hips as soon as you draw close enough and pulling you down onto his lap. he buries his face in your neck, grumbling. "i'm not harassing him, baby! it's just our usual banter. riiight, nanamin?"

"right." he chuckles lightly, exchanging an amused glance with you over satoru's head at the other man's antics. he's more like a young, whiny child than a full grown adult; especially when he acts like this.

"hey, stop smiling at him!" satoru huffs overdramatically in protest, looking up at you from your neck with one of his bright blue eyes peeking out from under his blindfold. "you're supposed to be on my side, pretty girl."

"i am on your side, silly," you say with fond exasperation, bringing a hand up to ruffle his messy white locks affectionately. "are you seriously mad at me for getting along with your friend?"

"no, i guess not." he grumbles in response, nuzzling his face back into your skin like a beloved pet would do to its owner.

nanami can't help but find it fascinating how the strongest sorcerer and most popular teacher at jujutsu tech seems to completely melt in your presence — there must be something really special about you, and he feels honoured to be allowed to have you for himself; even if only for one night.

"so— uh, how does this... work?" the blonde man asks curiously after clearing his throat, looking between you and the manchild snuggling you in his lap with a carefully questioning gaze.

satoru giggles at this, turning his head to give nanami an obnoxiously teasing wink. "how does me letting you hit this..." he drawls playfully, his hand traveling down from your hip to lightly squeeze your ass. "...work, nanamin?"

nanami almost chokes on his own salvia in response to his colleague's blunt wording, but somehow he manages to compose himself (just). "...yes, i suppose. if you insist on being so lewd about it."

you let out a small chuckle at this, swatting your boyfriend's hand away from your ass and giving him a chiding look, to which he just shrugs innocently.

"i think it should be up to you, kento," you hum thoughtfully, resting your chin on satoru's head and peering over at the blonde man with an encouraging smile. "how would you like this to work?"

"ah, well..." nanami begins, finding his brain seems to have short-circuited at your suggestion. he gets to choose how he has you? jesus, how is even supposed to form a single coherent sentence with you smiling at him like that?

"oh, come onn, nanamin!" satoru whines, raising one of his legs from the other man's lap to kick at his chest with one of his socked feet. "want me to give you some ideas? hmm... how about you start with her perfect little mouth? it works wonders, y'know!"

nanami lets a choked sound escape from somewhere in the back of his throat at this, his wide eyes shooting to you for any signs of hesitance. but he finds none, no — you're still smiling at him in such a friendly way, as if your boyfriend isn't signing you up to suck another man off right in front of him.

"is that— can i... are you sure?" he stammers awkwardly, suddenly feeling like an inexperienced teenager rather than a fully grown man.

"it's fine with me," you say sweetly, each word so thick and honeyed, making nanami's head start to go a little hazy. he can already feel his trousers starting to grow uncomfortably tight just from the direction this conversation is going in. "would you like that, kento?"

"would i—" nanami swallows thickly, stopping his words before they can come out sounding too eager. "yes... yes, i believe i would."

satoru grins widely at his co-worker's admission, effortlessly lifting you up from his lap and placing you on the floor in front of the couch. you crawl the rest of the way across the carpet, coming to perch between nanami's manspread legs.

the blonde man audibly gulps when you bring your hands up to his thighs, shifting just a little on the chair to try and hide how much his body is reacting to your proximity.

"phewww... look at him, baby," satoru whistles amusedly with a mischievous smirk as he watches the interaction, obnoxiously pointing to the growing tent in nanami's slacks. "so worked up already."

you tut lightly, shooting another disapproving look in your boyfriend's direction. "stop teasing him, toru. he's probably just touch-starved."

"something you wouldn't understand, gojo," nanami pushes out through gritted teeth, trying his best to keep up his usual collected demeanour even when he feels your fingers graze over his bulge. "not when you have such a sweet little thing waiting for you at home everyday."

"hm. now that is true," the white-haired man hums in agreement, reaching over nanami's lap to give your hair a gentle, loving stroke. "my girl always knows how to keep me satisfied."

you smile warmly up at satoru, leaning your head into his touch slightly while your hand squeezes around his colleague's clothed erection — and, shit. you can tell just how big he is even through these tight trousers.

you've really got your work cut out for you here.

satoru is quick to help you out, grasping a cushion from the couch and leaning down to slide it underneath your knees to make the position more comfortable for you. ugh, your boyfriend is just so considerate— but tonight isn't about him. focus!

with better support on the floor, you reach up to pop open the button on the front of nanami's slacks, looking up at him through your lashes; and, god, he looks absolutely wrecked already. his cheeks are flushed a light shade of pink, and his goggle-clad eyes are staring anywhere but you.

despite how stoic he always was in satoru's descriptions of him, right now... kento nanami looks utterly adorable.

unzipping his fly, the only barrier between you and his monster of an aching cock is his expensive-looking boxers. and while at this point with satoru you'd usually do a little teasing, you figure with nanami, it's better to cut straight to the chase.

he clearly needs it.

so you dip your nails under the waistband of his underwear, carefully tugging it down to reveal your boyfriend's colleague in all of his touch-starved glory; cock just giant as it slaps against his clothed abdomen, all veiny and curved as the reddened tip leaks onto the couch.

"woww, nanamin!" satoru croons obnoxiously, fanning himself with his hand as if he's a prim and proper lady about to collapse from shock. "how big you are."

"do you really have to be here for this?" the blonde man retorts, shooting a glare so deadly in his friend's direction that if looks could kill... your boyfriend definitely would be six feet under.

"oh, absolutely," he drawls back without missing a beat, smirking smugly as he crosses his legs against nanami's lap, as if watching his girlfriend prepare to give his co-worker a blowjob is the most normal situation possible. "i'll be here the whooole time. better get used to it."

rolling your eyes at satoru's relentless teasing, you opt to distract nanami from the white-haired sorcerer's interjections by wrapping a hand around his bare length (let it be noted that you definitely cannot fit his entire girthy base in your grip.)

nanami lets out a raspy, broken groan at the contact, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he tries to keep himself together. but the way his cock visibly jumps under your touch doesn't go unnoticed by you or satoru.

"relax for me, kento," you coo sweetly, giving him a light squeeze to make sure he's paying attention to your words. "gonna make you feel good, yeah?"

he can only release a few incoherent mumbles in response, his head falling back against the couch when you start to languidly stroke him, moving your hand from tip to base with well-practised movements.

"fuck, that's so hot," satoru groans as he shifts a little closer to get a better view of you working his uptight colleague with your fist, his own sweatpants starting to visibly tent too. "keep going, pretty girl."

you smile again at the praise, your thighs rubbing together subtly underneath satoru's baggy shirt. but he notices it, because of course he does, he knows your body's reactions like the back of his hand. "see that, nanamin? she loves it when you praise her. i hope you're taking mental notes right now."

nanami can only watch in awe as you lean down to press your soft lips to the leaking tip of his cock, his brain completely scrambled already from only a few touches. jesus, he can't believe he almost didn't agree to take part in this; he’s silently thanking his past self for having the confidence to go through with it right now.

"that's... you're doing good— so good." he pushes out, the words more of a garbled mess than anything as his toned hips involuntarily buck lightly into your hand, in search of more and more friction.

a small, satisfied hum spills from your lips at the praise, your tongue instinctively flicking out to lap at the pearlescent rivulets of pre-cum just streaming from his pudgy tip.

it’s not as sweet as satoru’s — it has a bit more of a salty tang. but it’s not exactly unpleasant either, and you find yourself digging the tip of your tongue into his slit to gather more of the interesting new flavour.

"ah!" nanami gasps loudly, the sound escaping from him without permission. his eyes fly open to fall squarely on you as you start suckling on his tip, finding himself being rendered completely speechless at the way you’re making him feel already — and you’ve only just started.

he’s in for a long night.

“yeahh, she’s good, isn’t she?” satoru croons proudly from beside him, reminding nanami of his presence yet again. but he can’t bring himself to be too mad at his colleague when he’s giving him access to his perfect girlfriend with such a sweet mouth.

“mhm,” the blonde man grunts out, his head rolling to the side slightly. he quickly shuts his eyes, not wanting to catch sight of satoru while he’s receiving such intense pleasure; the last thing he wants is to ruin his upcoming orgasm. “you’re a lu— ah, a lucky man.”

“oh, i know i am,” satoru hums smugly, his hand still resting on your hair giving you a gentle push in a silent encouragement to move your head forward. “come on, baby. i know you can take more of him than that.”

with the help of your boyfriend’s guiding hand, you find yourself sinking more of nanami’s thick cock into your mouth, inch by girthy inch until your nose bumps against the small patch of trimmed blonde hair at the bottom of his abdomen.

“oh, fuuuck…” nanami groans roughly, gripping the fabric of the couch so hard his knuckles are whitening as he tries to hold himself back from just fucking into your mouth like a feral animal.

“it’s okay if you want be rough, nanamin,” the white-haired sorcerer murmurs against the shell of his ear, as if directly reading his thoughts. “she doesn’t mind. she’s your stress relief, remember?”

like the gentleman he is, nanami makes sure to make eye contact with you to check for any signs of hesitance first. but when he doesn’t find any; he just can’t hold himself back from thrusting his hips up into the wet cavern of your mouth.

you try your absolute best to kneel there and take it, but you simply can’t help the way you choke around his sheer length when his tip hits the back of your throat with a lewd thwack!, causing both he and satoru to moan in response.

“yeahhh, you look so pretty choking on nanamin’s cock, babygirl.” satoru groans proudly, trailing his spare hand down to leisurely palm the bulge in his own pants as he observes the scene before him.

your boyfriend’s praise makes you audibly mewl around the blonde man’s cock, the vibrations around his shaft making nanami slap satoru’s hand out of your hair to grab it himself, keeping you in place as he continues rutting into your mouth with reckless abandon.

“just like that, just like that.” nanami chants over and over like a mantra, starting to completely forget about any and all stress he has as he loses himself to the overwhelming pleasure you’re giving him.

“you’re close, aren’t you?” satoru chimes in with a satisfied smirk stretching across his lips as he leans in unnecessarily close to nanami’s ear to whisper. “don’t worry about pulling out, she’ll swallow it all.”

his colleague’s lewd words practically send nanami hurtling over the edge, his grip on your hair tightening to a borderline painful degree as he spills rope after rope of hot, thick cum straight down your throat.

it takes a few deep gulps for you to swallow everything nanami gave you, but there’s just so much of it that a few stray drops spill from the edges of your lips and onto the carpet. shit — you’ll have to clean that up later.

“thaat’s it. such a good girl,” satoru purrs warmly, his eyes alight with affection as he reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb, enjoying the dazed expression across your pretty features. “i think you broke nanamin, though.”

looking up at nanami, you can instantly see the visual evidence of what your boyfriend means by you breaking nanami.

the blonde man looks completely debauched — chest rapidly rising and falling as he pants harshly in an attempt to come down from the intensity of his orgasm and eyes squeezed shut so tightly it would appear that he's in some sort of pain if you didn't know better.

"you alright there, kento?" you ask half-teasingly, tapping his thigh gently to try and gain his attention. (it doesn't work; he's clearly out of it.)

satoru is grinning like a madman beside him on the couch, clearly more than pleased with how well his girlfriend is doing unravelling his uptight co-worker so far. "aww, what a shame! he's chickening out before he can even get a feel of your tight little pussy."

you huff, lean up to swat at the white-haired sorcerer's arm in an attempt to get him to shut up, which only causes him to scoop you up in his arms again and place a big wet kiss on your lips in retaliation, seemingly uncaring of the lingering tase of nanami on them.

giggling, you attempt to wriggle out of his grip, which accidentally causes your ass to brush against nanami's still half-hard cock as a result; and that seems to snap him right out of his reverie.

nanami's entire body jolts to attention, a low groan leaving his lips as he glances down at where you're unintentionally pressed against him. and, god, if your mouth made him cum that hard that he forgot where he was for a few moments, just how much better must your pussy be?

"finally back with us, hmm?" satoru drawls playfully, reaching around you to punch his colleague's shoulder a little harder than necessary, causing the blonde man to scowl in response.

"quiet, gojo." he mutters under his breath, unable to tear his eyes away from the slip of your panties he can just about see from underneath the hem of your baggy shirt.

oh, what he'd give for just one little taste right now...

"don't even think about it," satoru cuts in, snapping him from his thoughts. oh dear, did he say that out loud? he really does need to get control of himself. "if you taste her you'll get addicted, and we can't have that."

nanami can't help but feel slightly disappointed at this — he's always been the type to return the favour, and not being able to do the same for you makes a subtle frown tug at his lips.

but he knows that he has no right to ask for anything more than what he's being offered, seeing as you're not his. (and it's not like he can complain if he gets to be inside that pretty pussy that's been on his mind since satoru showed him his lockscreen last week.)

"are you just gonna sit there, nanamin?" satoru chuckles in teasing disapproval, shaking his head and lifting up the hem of your (his) baggy shirt to reveal the considerable wet spot painting the crotch of your panties. "or are you gonna hurry up and take care of my girl? you knoow, it's bad manners to leave a lady waiting while she's this needy."

"ahem. my apologies, darling," nanami mutters hoarsely, using every ounce of self-control he has left to forcefully tear his eyes away from your underwear and meet your eyes. he gestures to his lap, giving you the strongest smile he can muster right now. "would you like to take a seat?"

"still so well-mannered." you giggle lightly, although you oblige without question, crawling away from satoru to perch yourself upon nanami's wide thighs. he instinctively reaches out to grasp your hips with two large hands, keeping you steady.

"so... can i—?" nanami mutters quietly to satoru, as if sharing a well-kept secret, and not as if he's asking for permission to touch another man's girlfriend's cunt. jesus, is he out of his comfort zone right now.

"can you touch her? yes, yes, of course," the white-haired sorcerer replies quickly with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if eager to get this underway already so he can sit back and enjoy the show. "oh, and you have to make her cum on your fingers atleast once before you can fuck her. house rules."

nanami isn't complaining about this rule.

he owes you an orgasm anyway, but when he slides your soiled panties to the side and gets an eyeful of your pretty pussy, he feels as if it would be a crime not to put his fingers inside of you.

ever the gentleman, nanami looks up at you from behind his lopsided goggles one more time to check for any signs of hesitation, and when he still doesn't find any, he slowly dips two thick fingers between your folds, caressing your slick flesh.

you release a small sigh at the touch, your eyelids fluttering as a wave of pleasure washes over you. he's careful and gentle with his ministrations; since he obviously isn't familiar with what you like.

but you can tell he's the type to be a quick learner.

it isn't long before nanami has you squirming and whining on his lap, the two fingers he eased inside of your dripping entrance scissoring and exploring your sloppy hole, spreading you open bit by bit.

"mmm, you like that, pretty girl?" satoru asks raspily from behind you, lazily palming his clothed erection again as he observes your reactions to his colleague's touch. "is he making you feel good?"

"y-yeahhh." is all you can get out in your daze, your back arching forwards in an unconscious action when nanami's thumb finds your swollen clit, lightly pressing the rough pad of it down on the puffy bud.

satoru leans back in so his chin is almost resting on nanami's shoulder, his warm, laboured breaths caressing the lobe of the other man's ear. "her favourite thing is when you rub lil' circles on her clit." he whispers, voice low and teasing.

against his will, a shiver ripples down nanami's spine in response to satoru's words, and he finds himself following them like they were a command, his thumb sloppily circling your pretty clit and emitting a soft gasp from your parted lips.

"c-close, kento." you mutter breathlessly, your hips beginning to grind down onto his fingers in search of more friction. satoru is quick to assist, abandoning palming himself and wrapping his an arm around your waist to help you bounce on the other man's digits more smoothly.

"thank you, thank you!" you cry out to your boyfriend, turning your head to meet his lips in an uncoordinated, messy kiss inches from nanami's face. the blonde man finds his fingers unconsciously speeding up as he observes the interaction, fucking you on them hard and fast.

within moments, you're coming undone.

a soundless cry falls from your lips as your body falls limp between the two men, your cunt clenching and unclenching around nanami's fingers in search of something to milk.

"god. she looks even more beautiful when she cums... i-i need to feel her. can i feel her, satoru?" comes nanami's broken voice from somewhere nearby, your blissed out state making your vision swim and your hearing fuzzy.

"woow. called me by my first name and everything!" that's satoru, obviously. he sounds overwhelmingly smug. "if i knew my girlfriend would get you this pussydrunk, i'd have let you have a turn with her ages ago."

their bickering becomes background noise as you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm, but you vaguely register your baggy shirt being removed and your body being repositioned so you're splayed across the couch on your back.

"darling? do you need a moment or can i..." it's nanami's voice again. you manage to blink one eye open to find him hunched over you, burly arms either side of your head and his blonde tresses sticking to his forehead with sweat. casting your vision down, you can see his cock, flushed and angry with precum dripping from the tip once again, hovering just above your entrance.

"please." you mewl, the word slurred from lingering pleasure as you weakly grind your hips up into his erection, causing him to release a groan from deep in his throat.

"go ahead. give my girl what she wants," satoru grunts from somewhere behind nanami, the slick sounds filling the air indicating that he's finally released his cock from the confines of his sweatpants and started jerking himself off. "and you better give it to her good."

"i will," nanami mutters as he slowly but surely, pushes his monster of a cock past that first tight ring of muscle that is your entrance. "f-fuck— i will."

"i think that's the — ah — first time i've ever head you curse, nanamin." the white-haired man remarks playfully, his hips bucking up into his closed fist as he watches his colleague prepare to fuck his girlfriend. damn, this is even hotter than he expected.

"don't get used to it." he grunts in response, his arms visibly shaking above you as he tries to hold himself back from just slamming all the way into you. but no, he's still a gentleman; even now. he'll start slowly, atleast.

it takes a few long moments for nanami to push all of his ridiculously thick inches into you, and when he finally bottoms out, his heavy balls flush against your ass, both of you moan. he's stretching you out so good, just as much (if not more so) than satoru does.

the blonde man, to his credit, does manage to give you a while to adjust to the new intrusion filling you up, but it isn't long before he snaps, the animalistic side of him coming out as he begins rutting his hips into you like it's his last day on earth.

"a-ah! fuck, kento!" you cry breathlessly, your legs quickly locking around his waist for some type of support as he continues to use you like his own person cocksleeve, the couch rocking back and forth with the suddenly ruthless movements.

"uh huhh," satoru croons as he works his own cock faster, his blindfold discarded somewhere nearby so he can get the clearest view of nanami pounding his girlfriend into the couch. "use her to get rid of all that pesky stress."

"sorry, sweetheart — shit, sorry," nanami pants above you, his body seemingly having a mind of its own as he continues to drive his cock in and out of you, barely giving you a moment to breathe in between the rough thrusts. "can't stop."

you'd tell him it was okay, that it feels good, but right now you can't form a single coherent thought. you're completely and utterly cockdrunk, and there isn't even a doubt about it.

"hey — mmm — she really likes it when you play with her tits while you're fuckin' her." satoru adds helpfully, causing nanami to growl out something akin to thanks in response.

suddenly, a large hand is palming one of your bouncing breasts, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh and making you clench tightly around the cock inside of you.

nanami curses yet again under his breath, his eyes visibly rolling back in his head behind the fogged up lenses of his goggles. "so tight, darling. practically squeezing around me like a v-vice."

at his words, a broken moan gets ripped from your throat, your ankles digging into the muscles of his lower back in an attempt to pull him in even deeper. all you seem to be able to say is "more, more, more."

"that— ngh, that means she's close," satoru gasps out, his cock twitching beneath his fist as he continues to jerk himself off like there's no tomorrow. "rub... rub her clit like y'did earlier again."

instantly complying to the other man's command, two of nanami's thick fingers find your puffy little bud again, rubbing uncoordinated circles as he continues to pound into you like an animal in heat. jesus, he can't even remember what he was stressed about anymore.

"o-oh, shit!" you almost scream, the stimulation on your sensitive bud and the repeated slams of nanami's pudgy cockhead against your g spot driving you half-insane with pleasure. you can feel an all-too-familiar coil start to spool in the depths of your stomach, threatening to unravel at any given moment.

"yeah, that's it, baby," satoru praises breathlessly, his own orgasm approaching as he continues grinding into his fist like a desperate virgin. "cum all over nanamin's cock for me."

the dual sensations of your boyfriend's words and the thrusting of nanami's sinful hips has you spiralling uncontrollably over the edge, your second high of the night somehow even more intense than the first. you barely even have time to register the liquid just spraying from your cunt and soaking nanami's heavy balls where they're slapping against your ass with a lewd thwack! each time.

"god, so perfect, can't last—" nanami rambles in a very pussydrunk manner, his movements suddenly growing considerably more uncoordinated and sloppy as he struggles to find the strength to hold himself up. "gojo, where can i...?"

"not inside," satoru responds firmly, his voice the most coherent it's been since he started jerking himself off. it's clear there's no room for argument on this one. "that's for me only."

nodding shakily, nanami manages to pull his throbbing cock out just in a nick of time, rope after rope of his goopy cum splattering across the supple skin of your stomach, the stream going on for so long it seems like it'll never stop.

somewhere behind the blonde man, a low, raspy groan is the tell-tale sign that satoru has just finished too, probably coating his own hand with his sticky release.

it's silent for a few blissful moments, all three of you just basking in the afterglow of your respective orgasms. but of course, satoru gojo is a man who can never stay quite for long, so he says—

"hey, maybe we should do a threesome next time."

"next time?" nanami chokes out weakly, barely managing to lift his head up to glance over at this colleague with two raised eyebrows.

"yeah, next time," satoru shrugs nonchalantly, as if the proposal was nothing short of normal. "i know i said i'd only let you do this once, but... sharing is caring, right?"

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 2 - Broken

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

I'm sorry, part 2 got a little out of hand in length so I've decided to split it up into different chapters! There should only be one more part after this (maybe??!) Hope you enjoy! This is more of Bucky's POV and gives some more insight into what happened. Thanks for all your engagement with this series, as always comments and reblogs are appreciated! Unfortunately I no longer use taglists.

💔

Your phone sat on Bucky’s desk as he stared at it blankly. He wasn’t really sure what he expected, maybe that you’d call it, or it would magically reveal some sort of answers to the many questions he had. But it didn’t. It just laid there, about as useful as a rock. A ‘babe, how are you?! we need to hang out soon!’ notification from Natasha had lit up the screen an hour or so before, but otherwise it just continued to sit silently – an insulting prompt that mocked him with your absence, the clock on the screen taunting him with how late it had become.

He'd had a glance at the checking and credit card accounts he’d set up for you, but they hadn’t been touched. In fact, nothing had been touched. None of your clothes had moved, your toiletries remained in the bathroom. You hadn’t even appeared to have taken any shoes with you. Natasha’s casual check-in text suggested your friends were unaware of what had happened. You’d just…vanished. A ghost in the night.

He felt nauseous, his gut churning. He’d tried to find the CCTV footage of you leaving, but the image was grainy – he could hardly make you out. The cameras had been acting up lately, he needed Steve to get them fixed. He kept thinking about you wandering out into the night by yourself, no money, no plan, how he’d forced you out into the cold. The one person he swore to protect, to keep safe.

His guilt was eating him alive.

But then he thought of the recording. Your voice so clear, laughing with the fed – mocking Bucky, calling him names and sneering at his gullibility. He could hardly believe it all at first. Not you? Not his doll, who had opened him up to love in ways he could have never imagined. Surely it couldn’t have been you, who had uprooted his life for the better, who had hit him like a whirlwind, changing his very being forever in all the best ways?

But he’d checked in with Banner who ran the tech and had confirmed you had been there. Your phone had pinged the cell tower in that exact spot they’d tracked the meeting point to. They’d even found a CCTV clip of you getting in a strange car that day, despite telling Bucky you were having Wanda over for a girl’s night. The audio was delivered by his own men, verified by their informant. The evidence was overwhelming.

‘It was so easy’ you had giggled cruelly on the clip, the words burned into his memory, ‘I just fluttered my eyelashes a few times and he was asking me to move in after a few weeks. I barely lifted a finger yet he swallowed everything I gave him and asked for more. Now I know how his whole operation works…but I need more time on the Stark deal. Just give me a bit longer and I’ll have that one-armed pussy spill everything after a few more ‘I love yous’ and dirty fucks. I promise...’

Of course he’d seen red. How could he not? He’d always been hot-tempered (passionate, his mother used to say), and the recording had destroyed his entire world in a matter of seconds. Aside from the betrayal, the pain, he felt humiliated. He’d finally been vulnerable with someone, shared intimacy in ways he’d never experienced with another person – only to find out it was all a lie. A trick. A joke. It affirmed his biggest fear – that he had been correct to build those walls, to protect himself from anyone who would use his feelings against him. Love could be exploited as a weakness, and he’d turned up to the fight unarmed.

In his mind, he’d not thrown you out – not sweet, beautiful you. Not you who held him close in your sleep and nuzzled into his chest, not you who traced his scars with her fingers and encouraged him to take off his prosthetic when you were intimate if he wished to. Not you, who stayed up late on his birthday just to present him with a homemade cake when he came home after an exhausting meeting – insisting he blew out the candles. Did she ever even exist? He’d always joked you were too good to be true. Now he’d accidentally manifested that into reality.

No. He’d thrown out her. The woman who had been gathering intel on him since the moment the two of you had met. The woman who exchanged kisses for information. The woman who had laughed about all of this as she gleefully ratted on him, delighting in her prowess over the foolish, lovesick mob boss she’d so easily toppled. The woman who’d callously worn the mask of someone who loved him. She was thrown out of his house, out of his embrace.

Unfortunately, the two versions of you were one and the same.

But at least he knew better, now. He’d go back to casual sex and pretty girls hanging off his arm. Easy. Fun. Uncomplicated. The walls would go back up and they wouldn’t come down again. Deep down he’d always known that men like him weren’t meant to be loved, that they weren’t worthy of genuine affection. Not all voids could be filled. People like you, or at least who he thought you were, were not for him. They deserved better. You’d always deserved better. He’d had a brief taste of happiness, but that was all he deserved. The universe would continue to punish him for his many bad deeds.

The only thing left to do was finally go to bed, but a solemn knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He could tell it was Steve. 

“Steve?” he called, checking his watch. It was late, he’d assumed his second in command had already gone home.

Steve entered looking sullen. He was tensely holding his phone, and someone appeared to be on FaceTime with him. He cautiously extended it to his long-time friend.

“I’m sorry, Buck”, he said gravely.

“Steve..what?” Bucky asked as he gingerly took the phone from him. Sam looked back at him from the small screen, his solemn expression mirroring Steve’s.

“Bucky…I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly in that same tone, filling Bucky with a sinking dread.

Something was very wrong here.

“What is it?” He fired angrily at Sam, “just spit it out…”

Sam flipped the camera around to face what looked like a heap of old rags on the ground. He appeared to be in a parking garage, surrounded by nothing but concrete and darkness. It was hard to make anything out.

“What am I looking at here?” Bucky squinted at the camera as he tried to focus the image. Steve silently observed over his shoulder.

“Tell him what you just told us,” came the sound of Sam’s furious voice off-camera.

Bucky watched with confusion at the screen as Sam's boot suddenly kicked out at the heap, and the heap moved.

And then he clicked.

The ‘heap’ was a man.

The man groaned and cried out as Bucky realised the ‘rags’ were ripped, bloody clothes. He rolled over in obvious pain as Sam manoeuvred the camera to get a better look. As the man turned over, Bucky recognised his face. 

It was one of his own. 

“Rumlow?” Bucky asked with confusion. 

Behind him, Steve moved closer and leaned forward to watch the screen. “Just watch, Buck” he said sombrely.  

Rumlow looked up at the phone, blearily staring into the lens as he squinted at the phone light. His face was bruised and bloodied. Someone had given him a good going over. 

“It was me. Alright? I did it,” Rumlow groaned.

“Did what?” Bucky sneered, still not entirely clear on where this was going – but already feeling his anger mounting.

Rumlow sighed heavily and Sam gave him another swift kick to the ribs to encourage him to continue. 

He moaned out in pain and closed his eyes. “Aaargh. Alright…I did it! I did it okay! I made the recording!” he spat.

Bucky’s eyes darkened as comprehension of the situation unfolding began to take hold. His fist tightened around the phone screen. “Which recording…Rumlow?” He asked, his voice sinisterly calm. 

Rumlow paused and spat a wad of blood onto the floor. Bucky recognised the look of fear building in the man’s eyes, he’d seen it many times before. Rumlow was stalling to delay the inevitable.

“Tell me!!” Bucky roared at the phone, holding it so tightly in his fist that the screen might crack.

He watched Rumlow wince as he turned away from the screen, dropping his head in defeat.

“Of your girl…talking to the police…it wasn’t her-uh-it wasn’t even real. I used AI. From…from recordings of her voice from old security footage…I’m sorry…I just-”

But Bucky was eerily composed. Rumlow took his silence as the cue to continue.

“I hacked into the security system and planted the clip of her getting in the car. And I stole her phone for a few hours when she was at the house with a friend, planting it at the meeting point then driving back with it. She didn’t even notice it was gone…I’m sorry I…”

Bucky cleared his throat. He tapped a single contemplative finger over his lips as his eyes glazed over.

“Sam?” he asked, his voice void of emotion. 

Sam flipped the camera back to face himself. He looked grimly into the lens. “I’m sorry Buck…we had no idea…I caught him on the phone with the feds about the shipment – he thought I’d already left and-”

“Keep him warm,” Bucky interrupted, his voice cold like ice, “I have more urgent matters to attend to first, but I will deal with him”.

Sam merely nodded. Just as he cut the call, Bucky heard Rumlow wail and beg in the background. He’d be doing a lot more of that soon.

In a sudden fog of anger, Bucky pelted his phone hard against the wall. He roared with rage, lobbing his scotch glass at the window – shattering both. He flipped his desk, the chair, the bookcase – leaving a tsunami of destruction in his wake. Steve merely watched on, patiently. He knew Bucky needed to vent whichever way he could.

Eventually Bucky slowed, panting with exertion as he took a second to try and slick back his hair, now unkempt and messy from his outburst. He pulled back his shoulders as he attempted to regain his composure.

“We’ll find her, Buck”, Steve told him unwaveringly. “She can’t have gone far on foot. Then you can explain everything and apologise”.

Bucky shook his head as he ran his hands through his hair. Toeing the pile of debris that now cluttered his office floor he sighed heavily. “She told me she didn’t do it, Steve. And I didn’t believe her…”

“The recording was very convincing,” Steve clamped a sympathetic hand onto Bucky’s shoulder, “it sounded just like her – and had all of us fooled. Not to mention the phone location evidence…the CCTV of her leaving…before I came up here, Sam told me that this AI is brand new tech, far more advanced and convincing than what the masses have access to…”

Bucky bleakly shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. She’s my girlfriend and I’m supposed to trust her. Believe her. When I heard her voice on that recording I just…”, he trailed off sadly, “…it tapped into my worst fears…”

Steve nodded sagely. “Let’s just find her first, and you can talk to her. And then we can deal with Rumlow”.

Bucky grimaced, “I knew he was a risk to take on…with our shared history in HYDRA’s organisation…but I never thought…”

“Let’s just find her for now,” Steve repeated, always calm in a crisis. He pulled out his phone, making calls to various members of their group, sending out texts and kicking off various communication chains. In mere minutes, they’d have entire squads of their men scouring the area with a fine-tooth comb.

Bucky stood amongst the wreckage – the room’s physical ruins a glaring reminder that this wasn’t the only mess he’d made tonight. He pulled his own phone from his jacket pocket, opening his photo album as the pings and buzzes from Steve’s device filled the room. He flicked through the pictures of you: your face cheesily grinning at the camera, your lips sweetly planted on his cheek, a candid shot of you cooking in the kitchen – caught off-guard, your mouth a small ‘o’ of surprise. You’d asked him to delete it as you thought you looked dumb, but he insisted he keep as he like the way your eyes sparkled in it. It was one of his favourites. Looking at the pictures helped him calm down, his breath evening as he remembered what was important here. He ran a finger over the image of your face, “I’m sorry, doll” he whispered, “I promise I’ll do anything I can to fix this…”

A couple of miles away, you slept deeply in the tear-stained hotel sheets – completely unaware of the organised efforts to track you down. You didn’t dream, you didn’t stir, you just slept - grateful to give yourself over to oblivion.

💔

There had only been a few places you could have gone on foot.

Bucky’s men had worked quickly despite the late hour. The local police force, already firmly in Bucky’s pocket, loaned him a few law enforcement bodies to assist with the search, no questions asked – as was standard. Sheriff Bodecker always played ball. They collected the CCTV from local businesses, doorbell cam footage from local residents (who weren’t particularly happy to be woken to do so, but didn’t have much choice), swept the area on foot and in vehicles. It was faintly possible you had hitchhiked and thumbed a ride into the city, but Bucky knew this wasn’t likely, so they put that option on the backburner – although it hadn’t been entirely ruled out.

The gas station staff hadn’t seen you, but their CCTV did catch a blurred figure passing in the road opposite the camera. A faint outline of your route started to emerge as the puzzle pieces came together. Eventually, Bucky was sent the security footage of you checking into the Holiday Inn. His heart pulled as he watched you looking lost at the reception desk – your eyes round like saucers as you produced crumpled dollar bills, head turning left to right as you surveyed your drab surroundings. He could only imagine how lost you must’ve felt, how hurt and betrayed. Exiled by the man you loved, you trusted, and having to hunker down in a shitty roadside hotel. Part of him was impressed by your ability to pick yourself up and keep going even in the toughest circumstances – it was one of the many reasons he loved you. But mainly, he was ashamed. Ashamed that he’d pushed you to this, that he’d failed you in so many ways.

Bucky inhaled deeply as he closed the hotel clip on his phone, nodding to his driver and stepping into the dark SUV.

I’m on my way, doll.

[mypoisonedvine]

“YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!” with neil lewis? 😏

oh my god not me seeing the notification which just said "anon asked YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED" and being so concerned and confused lmao like who has naked pics of me

BUT ANYWAYS. neil my beloved. (i didnt use the exact dialogue from the prompt just like the concept)

warnings: 18+ only!! SMUT!!!, rough sex, some degradation, some hair pulling, punishment but like it's not that serious, facial, established relationship

"The fuck were you thinking?" he spat, one hand pulling down your pants while the other kept you bent over the end of the couch.

I was thinking you'd come right home and beat it up like it owes you money, you thought, and it looks like I was right.

"Wasn't thinking," you answered quickly instead, arching your back as he yanked your underwear out of the way and roughly shoved two fingers into you. "Fuck!"

"Oh, that's too much?" he scoffed. "Cause you wanted a whole lot more than this, didn't you? You were just texting me while I was at work about how-- what did you say exactly-- how you wanted my thick cock stretching you open?"

"Y-yeah, something like that," you mumbled with a smirk-- as much as you could smirk with your face pressed into the sofa cushion.

"So two fingers shouldn't be a problem," he decided, "and you're fucking soaked, too-- even more than in that picture you sent. Fuck, babe, somebody could've seen--"

"Did they?" you asked coyly.

"You say it like you almost wish they had," he noticed. "Are you that much of a slut, you want the guys at the store to see you like that?"

"N-no, but it would be kinda hot if you got caught," you admitted. "If they knew why you rushed home, if they knew how bad I need you..."

"Well, I don't know about them," he decided as he took his fingers out and began to open his jeans, "but the neighbors are sure as hell gonna know who's giving it to you."

He made good on that promise within a few minutes-- if not just from the way you screamed his name as he fucked you so hard, then from your couch scraping across the floor from how brutally he slammed into you.

"This what you wanted?" he taunted proudly, holding you down and watching you nod quickly. "You're such a tease-- getting me turned on at work like that, I shouldn't be giving you what you want-- but fuck, I want you too. I was hard as a fucking rock as soon as you sent me that, you're so fuckin' dirty, babe..."

"Gonna come," you admitted with a gasp. "Fuck, Neil, baby, m'gonna fucking come--"

"Then do it," he snapped, hips clapping on your ass as he went even faster. "Fucking come, come for me--"

Your back arched but he kept your head down; you sobbed loudly, more than enough to be heard through your apartment's thin walls, but you didn't care at all. Digging your fingers into the couch cushions under you, you felt everything in your body tense up all at once as heady pleasure coursed through you. Even knowing how needy you'd been-- you wouldn't have texted him something like that for nothing-- it had hit you faster than you expected.

You thought he might mock you for it, but he didn't, and a few seconds later you realized why: because he was in no place to judge.

You whimpered a little when he pulled out, even moreso when he tugged on your hair a bit. "Get up, get on your knees," he ordered quickly as he stepped back, "gonna cover that pretty face."

It was harder than it sounded, you were so fucked out and not especially balanced, but you did as you were told, crouching down and kneeling in front of him as he stroked his cock quickly.

"Knew you could be a good girl," he praised, "fuck, hold still--"

You weren't really moving much, but he still grabbed onto your hair and used it to hold your face where he wanted as he jerked off over it-- and he came with a deep groan and warm ropes that covered your face. You hummed happily, flinching and shutting one eye at some point when it his come almost landed on it, but waited patiently until he'd squeezed the last drop out and tapped it on your lips. He looked so damn good like that: a little sweaty and a lot disheveled, catching his breath with his lips slack and his eyes heavy.

"Fuck," he said lowly one more time, admiring how well he'd ruined you. "Stay right there. I think it's my turn to take a picture."

[sentientgolfball]

I humbly request the I’ve been getting ready for forever bc I wanna look good for you prompt with Swiss and Phantom 🖤🖤

I love me some good Swisstom ough

Swiss sighs, checking the time on his watch again. He’s been waiting in the lobby of the hotel for what feels like ages. To his credit though, Phantom is almost fifteen minutes late. They had a day off before having to pile back onto the buses and to their next venue in the middle of some Midwestern state. Swiss wanted to do something nice with his little bug while they had the time. He knows how rough the first tour can be and he can see the fatigue starting to claw at them. They’ve got lines under their eyes that won’t disappear. They spend just as much time in the shower as a dehydrated water ghoul, using hotel hot water until Swiss knocks on the door for his turn. He notices every time they hiss in pain the day after a show, muscles obviously sore from the over the top performance they give every night. 

He figured exploring the cute little downtown area of where they’re at would be fun, the shops they passed on the way in the day before looked promising. He suggested they go out when they got back from the show, sleepy words exchanged while cuddled under the covers. Phantom had seemed excited, albeit exhausted. Though now Swiss worries they may have just been saving face. He checks his watch again. 

He tries to distract himself by idly scrolling on his phone, but he’s not paying attention. Every time the elevator dings his focus shifts, hoping this time he’ll see the glamoured face of Phantom. He taps in and out of their message thread a few times, debating whether or not he should text them. If they went back to bed he doesn’t want to disturb them, they deserve to rest. But what if they forgot? They can be a little spacey at times. What if he’s down here working himself up and they’re up in their room wondering where he’s at? They could’ve gotten tangled up with one of the others. He’d hate to disturb them if that’s the case. He has been keeping the little bug nearby every chance he gets. 

He doesn’t realize he’s bouncing his leg and picking at his nails until his phone vibrates in his hand. His stomach swoops before he refocuses and sees it’s a message from Aurora. 

They’ll be down soon >:) 

The corner of his mouth quirks up just a bit. It simultaneously makes him feel better and worse. He’s glad their little day is still on, but now he can’t help but wonder why they were with Rora for so long. He tries to shrug it off, Phantom is an affectionate little creature and those two are like glue. He feels silly for even worrying, he knows they adore him. Still, that little voice in the back of his mind makes his skin itch. 

He’s broken from his thoughts when the elevator doors slide open and a familiar face finally pops out. He stands to go over to them, but he pauses when he gets a good look at them. Their hair has been put up in a bun, the white streak hanging out to frame their face. Their undercut looks freshly buzzed. They have a thin layer of makeup on, nothing over the top but still enough to notice. They’re in a pair of earthy green cargo pants and a sleeveless black mock top. Swiss nearly loses it when he sees the freckles on their shoulders. He has no words. This is a drastic change from the ripped jeans and hoodie-jacket combo they usually go for. 

“Sorry I took so long,” they smile at him, words a little breathless, “Rain and Aurora said you’re supposed to dress up for dates and I wanted to look nice for you.” 

Swiss surges forward, capturing them in a deep yet chaste kiss. They make a surprised noise before closing their eyes and melting into it. A deep chuckle rumbles in Swiss’ chest when he feels them smile against his lips. 

“So that means you like it right?” Phantom asks when they part. 

“Buggy you look amazing,” Swiss grins, “you didn’t have to get all dolled up for me.” 

“Wanted to.” They shrug and blush, eyes looking anywhere but his face. 

Swiss presses another quick kiss to their lips. They stare at each other for a moment, grinning like giddy teenagers before he finally speaks. 

“We should get going. I saw a little ice cream shop nearby. I think we should hit it.” 

Their eyes light up at the mention of ice cream. They slip their hand into Swiss’ with a light squeeze, “lead the way.”

[mariaofdoranelle]

The Booty-Call Dare

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics, prompt “Impress”

I got the idea for this after an incredibly unproductive conversation at a bar lol

Warnings: language, sexual themes (but SFW)

Words: 963

You’re just proving my point, Rowan texted her in response to a selfie Aelin sent of herself eating pie.

“What’re you smiling at?” Lysandra teased from the other side of Aelin’s living room, which caught Elide’s and Fenrys’ attention.

She immediately wiped it off her face and gave an eye roll before giving her attention back to Rowan.

It has strawberries in it, Aelin texted back, defensive of her dessert choices. It counts as fruit.

Nice try. There was a brief pause before he sent, What’re you up to?

Not much. You?

She needed to cut this conversation short before Fenrys complained that she wasn’t focused on Girls’ Night—no one could pinpoint exactly how he started attending, but he was a constant in her monthly-ish reunions with Lysandra and Elide.

In response, Rowan sent her a picture. It was a mirror one, just the curves of his biceps and shoulders in front of rows of dumbbells.

A gym pic.

Are you trying to make me feel bad for all that pie I ate? What the hell was she supposed to say?

His response came lightning fast. I thought it counted as fruit.

“Holy shit,” Elide said from behind Aelin, right before snatching her phone and zooming in the picture. “He’s so trying to impress you with these.”

“Stop it,” Aelin hissed as she took her phone back.

It wasn’t a show-off picture like the ones Fenrys posts, it was casual. Rowan must be so oblivious he had sent her a not-so-friendly reminder of his very tanned biceps.

“What?” Lys asked.

“Rowan DMed her a gym pic!”

Fenrys choked on his pie.

Aelin crossed her arms, ready for it. Her friends had a problem of constantly reading too much into Rowan’s behavior when he was just being a good friend.

Fenrys held both hands up in surrender. “Look, I can’t see through a dude’s heart, but I know when he wants his dick wet.”

Sometimes, Aelin wondered if things wouldn’t be different if she hadn’t been in a relationship when they met, in college. Still, she was glad for what they had now. “Rowan wouldn’t risk our friendship for a hookup.”

Fenrys sighed, a faraway look that indicated that he was in Philosopher Mode. “Having female friends is like raising chickens. Even if you never eat them, at some point you’ll look at them while you’re hungry and wonder.”

“Very well, then.” Aelin raised one brow up. “We’re friends.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you don’t think of me romantically.”

“No, ma’am.”

“But if I invited you to my bedroom…”

“I’d be there in a heartbeat. So would Rowan.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Aelin was confused, Fenrys never gave up like this.

“Alright,” he confirmed. “Call him now. Prove me wrong.”

“What.”

Lys and Elide cackled, then started a chorus of Do it! Do it!

Never one to back away from a challenge, Aelin squared her shoulders and unlocked her phone. “If I win, you’ll be demoralized and drop this subject forever. And if I lose…?”

Lys rolled her eyes. “You’ll fuck Rowan. I think this is a win-win scenario for you, Ae.”

But would she? She didn’t have much time to think about it, given the speed in which Rowan took her call.

“Hey, Fireheart.”

Her friends would mock her endlessly is she described Rowan as anything close to cheerful, but after being best friends for so many years, Aelin learned how to pick apart his undertones of grumpiness and yes, this was a happy one.

“Buzzard, hi.” The messy background noise from the call indicated that he was still at the gym. Good. She’d win this bet more easily if he was busy when she made the proposition—an idle brain is Hella’s playground. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Depends. Why’d you ask?”

“Um…” Aelin got up and paced around her small living room, and her friends watching on the edge of their seats didn’t help at all. “This might seem out of the blue, but I was wondering if you were up for… some Netflix and chill. You and me.”

This pause that felt like a lifetime was probably Rowan rewiring his brain after his best friend threw herself at him. Then, “Sure. There’s this new horror movie I thought you’d like. Or you wanna watch Gilmore Girls again?”

He didn’t want this. Rowan didn’t want it so bad he failed to recognize her proposal for what it was. The desire to hang up on him and disappear forever was overwhelming.

“No, not Netflix and chill. Netflix. And chill.”

A pause. “I’m confused.”

“I—“ Aelin pinched the bridge of her nose. This was harder than she thought. “Do you wanna bang?”

Rowan’s deafening silence was all the confirmation she needed.

“Fuck, um—“ Aelin grimaced. “I’m sorry. This was so stupid of me—“

“NO!” he interrupted. “S’okay. I— Um— Can you meet me in an hour? My place? Yours? D’youwannagrabdinner?”

“Um…” From the way her friends were grinning, Aelin’s blush must be visible from outer space. “Your place. I already ate. See you in an hour.”

“Cool.”

Aelin mumbled an unintelligible goodbye and hung up.

“I’m not even surprised.” Fenrys had a triumphant smirk on. “He’s doing cartwheels as we speak.”

Lysandra, the traitor, was laughing. “He’s setting off fireworks!”

Ellie’s eyes went wide. “Did he ask for that hour to shave?”

Aelin was frozen in place.

She had just scheduled a hookup with her best friend.

“Should I call him again to cancel?”

“Do you want to?”

No, she didn’t.

She had just potentially murdered their friendship, and Rowan seemed to be okay with it.

Aelin peeked under her shirt, cursed and ran to her room.

“I’m wearing granny underwear!”

If Aelin was about to ruin their friendship, she’d do it right.

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[cadotoast]

In regard to your post (this), I humbly propose:

John Price x Reader, Soulmate AU of sort, fluffy but toxic.

John is no way in hell anything but an emotionally unavailable gentleman that makes his FWB love him. (IMO)

Ohhhh I like this prompt

Here you go! I hope it's good 😅

Civilian Female Reader x Emotionally Unavailable Soulmate Price.

Content warnings: toxic Price, allusions to sex but no actual smut, allusions to potential murder, slightly manipulative price

But Your Heart Got Teeth

The knock on your door is simultaneously expected and startling. You've been expecting this particular visitor since he'd signed the lease you'd emailed him a few days ago: John Price, a Captain in the SAS, and your new roommate.

"The door is open! Come on in!" You look around your living room one last time, the monochrome view mocking you for the barest of seconds before you turn towards the front door.

It swings open, and for the barest of seconds, you catch a glimpse of a mountain of a man, broad shoulders, well-groomed facial hair, and wearing a startled expression, before your world bursts into color.

~~~

"Hang on, hang on, hang on." Miriam waves her hands erratically in front of herself, stopping your rant. "Your hunk of a new roomie is your soulmate?"

You sigh into your cappuccino, the light brown color mesmerizing you.

"It was like some stupid romcom," you admit with a sigh. "Our eyes locked, he's standing in the doorway like some kind of Greek god, and then I have the most disorienting experience of my life."

"Did you pass out? I've heard some people pass out." Miriam stage-whispers to you across the cafe table.

While the burst of color has certainly been trippy to say the least, you and John had both gathered yourselves enough to shake hands, and you had assisted John in bringing his boxes in before you'd locked yourself into your bedroom and texted your best friend immediately.

Since then, you've googled a color chart, which before had been various shades of a color called "grey", and have been adjusting to such a vibrant world.

"No, I didn't pass out..." Your voice trails off. "but this whole 'soulmate thing' seems a bit anticlimactic."

Miriam chuckles at your use of air-quotes, stirring her tea. "Just because the universe has tied you two together by your souls doesn't mean you don't have to get to know the guy first." Her smirk grins. "What, did you expect him to drop everything and ravage you over the nearest surface?"

Your cheeks and ears warm with a blush. With a muttered "no, fuck you", you drain your cup and get to your feet to return it to the barista. Miriam is watching you like a hawk, and the minute your butt touches the soft green cushion of your chair, she pounces on you.

"Where's he from? What does he do? Does he have a girlfriend? What color are his eyes? Is he packing?"

Her enthusiasm is drawing some looks, and you rush to appease and quiet her shrill excitement.

"I don't know, he's military, I don't know, blue, and wouldn't you like to know?" You rattle off the answers to her rapid fire questions. "And why would the color matter to you? You can't tell the difference!"

"It matters to you, and therefore it matters to me." She reaches forward, her warm hand settling on your forearm. "So, how are you gonna jump his bones?"

~~~

Life with John as a roommate is... interesting. He sets up an auto draft to you each month for rent and his half of the utilities, even though he isn't at the place 80% of the time. You barely have time to learn that he was an only child, and to find a new brand of tea in your pantry, before he is shipped off for something work-based, and you're once again alone.

A week later, he is sneaking into the apartment at three in the morning, while you're having a midnight snack of cheesecake. Needless to say, you were both surprised to see each other.

~~~

A knocking on your bedroom door stirs you from sleep. Blearily, you roll over, glancing at the clock. 8 AM.

"Sorry to wake you," John's voice is muffled through the door. "But I was going to make breakfast. How do you like your eggs?"

You pause for a minute while your brain processes the information. "Um... Over easy, please." You rub your hands over your face tiredly. "Thank you, John."

"o'course." And then his heavy steps are recording once more.

When you exit your bedroom, clad in a long band T-shirt and leggings, you're greeted with the smell of bacon, eggs, and toast.

"Tea or coffee?" John looks over his shoulder to glance at you.

"Tea, preferably." For the first time, John cracks a smile at you, and you can't help but chuckle, walking around him to get to the electric kettle. "Though on occasion a coffee is nice."

John is wearing some comfortable-looking sweatpants and a worn T-shirt, similar to yours. The same band, actually, just a different tour.

The conversation between the two of you gets easier, less stilted and awkward. The two of you grow close over the following months. Perhaps too close. The first time you wake up in his bed, you know something has shifted.

"I'm not ready for a relationship." You tell him that afternoon. "Whatever is between us... I'm not ready for a boyfriend."

"Of course, love, whatever you want."

That should have been your sign.

You see other people. Or try to, anyways. They always fall through. So far, four dates in a row have bailed on you last minute, and you're starting to lose hope.

John always seemed to be home on the nights those dates fell through. Always there to pull you into his lap, listen to your tearful sniffles that another date has fallen through, and you're starting to question your worth.

He hugs you close to his chest and lets you bury your face, your makeup streaming down your cheeks. He lets you blubber and sob, silent as he strokes your hair and back. Once your tears have stopped, he scoops you into his arms and cuddles you, large hands rubbing in soothing circles.

Little do you know, the same man who is scooping you up into his arms to take you to bed is the same man who has stalked your last five date prospects and warned them away. The same man who lays you out on his bed and worships your body is the one who released Ghost, Gaz, and Soap on some poor sod in town who looked at you the wrong way.

And when you're cuddled in his arms, sweaty from your copious lovemaking, he whispers something in your ear. And when you don't pull away, but instead snuggle closer, he knows that he's won.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Sebek, Ace: Let's be Honest!

Not me nyooming to write this and Malleus's 4th year anniversary prompt at the same time www

asdhubasyoabfwegua Good on Ace for saying what we were all thinking (that some of these framed illustrations have evil/suspicious as fuck expressions) 💀

WHAT’S WITH THAT CHUUNI FAVE + POSE COMBO IN THE GROOVY 😭 That must be Sebek’s “Kneel before wakasama!!” pose… Slap a duel disk on him and he wouldn’t look too out of place in Yu-Gi-Oh too. It looks extra goofy since Aurora and her forest friends look like they're staring at Sebek www

A Tale as Old as Time.

"Yo, Sebek!" Ace called out to his fellow first year. He thrusted his thumb at a painting. "Check this one out."

"Do not 'yo, Sebek' me," he bellowed angrily. "I do not take kindly to orders from humans, nor being summoned in such a casual manner!!"

"And yet you still stomped on over here when I said your name," Ace teased, pulling an even more intense glare from Sebek. "Anyway, cool your jets and take a look."

Again, he gestured to the platinum frame. It held the image of a maiden with long, golden curls and a wicker basket, leaning wistfully upon a low tree branch. Chin propped up on the back of one hand, she, with various animal companions--a squirrel, an owl, a flock of colorful songbirds--gazed off into the distance, as if caught in a wonderful daydream.

"Kinda reminds ya of a certain sleepyhead, huh?" Ace snickered, his grin turned a shade mocking. "Silver-senpai's totally got the same vibes."

Sebek's nostrils flared. "In what way does this woman resemble Silver?! You will retract that insolent remark at once!!"

"Uh, you don't see it? The checked-out expression, all the forest friends... It's definitely him, man."

"W-While that may be true, I would hardly compare Silver to a layabout like her!!"

"Whoa, that's harsh. What's got you all worked up?"

Sebek crossed his arms, mouth wrenched into a frown. "I have read about this woman in a text. She sleeps for long hours of the day--"

"Reeeeeally not helpin' your case there," Ace interjected.

"--and thinks of nothing but her dreams!! In this painting, she is even speaking to the animals about her most recent ones, where she meets a prince in the woods. He whisks her away upon his noble white steed, and they are happily wed."

"What's wrong with that? Isn't this the kind of stuff girls dream about anyway? True love or whatever."

"The content is not what matters!!" Sebek insisted--he was positively fuming. "What is absolutely infuriating is that she remains idle in her pursuit of that dream!! Rather than chase it or make efforts to make her wish come true, she sits idly by and waits for it to happen to her.

"Silver is, meanwhile, nowhere near that level of indolent! He is a man of action!! We have both diligently trained since childhood to serve as worthy attendants to the young master. To imply that he has not earned his position is tantamount to--"

"Okay, okay! I get it already, you don't have to shout," Ace grumbled, rubbing at his ears. He put on a gruff, loud voice, imitating Sebek. "Sheesh, for all the 'You're BELOW us great and proud fae, human!' talk, you sure are quick to jump to Silver-senpai's defense, huh?"

A smirk.

"Guess that means even hardasses like you have soft spots too."

"Hard work should be properly acknowledged and commended, regardless of who performs it," Sebek replied dismissively, "and there is a high standard set for those who serve the Draconia bloodline. Silver would not be where he is today, were he truly unworthy! Having undergone the same grueling training as he has... I can say with confidence that he has done his utmost to make his 'dream' come true."

This time, it was Sebek's turn to smirk.

"Perhaps the concept is foreign to you, seeing as you're one to skimp on effort. I've heard many a tale of how you cut classes and shirk your responsibilities in Heartslabyul--shameless!"

"Haaah?!" Ace planted his hands on his hips and glared. ""You've got a real talent for pissing people off, you know that?"

"Hmph! If you're going to be mad, then be mad at yourself for a lack of trying. As Lilia-sama says, you must take charge of your own destiny!! Fail to do that, and you've got no hope of attaining your dreams."

"Big talk comin' from someone who barely follows that advice! At least I go and put myself out there."

Sebek drew back, appalled, his expression curdling. "Unlike you, I am extremely punctual and thorough with my tasks, whether academic or professional!!"

"Not THAT, you idiot! I mean that you don't step out of your own comfort zone," Ace retorted. "You wanna be the best knight you can be? Then how's about you quit making excuses for yourself and be honest for once in your damn life?"

"Are you accusing me of dishonesty?! You, who constantly makes trouble for his own dorm members to clean up for him?"

"Look in a mirror, cuz you just described yourself too, buddy! Why don't you clean up your own act before you start pointing and starting shit with me?"

The two boys' voices grew increasingly louder and louder. More and more agitated. Other gallery goers passed looks in their general direction, shuffled away to free themselves of the noisy corner.

"SHHHHH!" a museum curator hissed at the duo from around the corner. "Quiet in the gallery! You're disturbing the other guests."

"I-I sincerely apologize for the disturbance!!" Sebek hurriedly called back, his cheeks warming with embarrassment. He bowed--a perfect 90-degree angle, an attempt to hide his furiously pink face.

Beside him, Ace cracked a smile most wicked. "Heh, there we go. Now that's more like the Sebek I know."

[rip-quizilla]

I'm Not Crying, You're Crying (Eddie Cries While Watching Tarzan)

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 27: You'll Be In My Heart

WC: 653

A/N: Okay... so I may have gone a bit rogue on this one. I know the prompt list explained this one as 'navigating love on the road', but when I hear the words You'll Be In My Heart I can't think of anything BUT Tarzan. So here's the weird little bit of fluff I came up with.

Tags: College!Corroded Coffin, crying, Eddie thinking about motherhood and the role it's played in his life, surprise at the end. It's an AU... but not the way you might think.

Divider created by @strangergraphics

In one of the smallest dorm rooms on the USI campus, four twenty-somethings had gathered around a glowing screen on a rainy Tuesday night.

“Wait, she’s taking the baby into a fucking tree?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Yes, Grant, she’s a gorilla. Gorillas climb trees sometimes.”

“But what if she drops it?”

Gareth scoffed, chiming in. “This is a Disney movie, idiot, that isn’t gonna happen.”

“I just watched a baby gorilla get mauled by a cheetah!” Grant yelled, incredulity plain on his face as he pointed to the TV. “You think they’d show that but draw the line at babies falling from trees?”

“A leopard mauled the baby gorilla.” Jeff corrected. “Cheetahs live in the savannah, dumbass.” 

“Would you all kindly shut the fuck up?” Eddie silenced them all, eyes trained on the TV with rapt attention as he watched Kala climb up the gnarled branches of a jungle tree, Phil Collins’ You’ll Be In My Heart crooning through the speakers. “You’re missing it.”

The other three looked at each other, confused but too scared to ask why he cared so much about some kids' movie, and continued to watch until-

“Dude, are you crying?”

“No!” Eddie sniffed, wiping furiously at his eyes. “You’re crying!”

Gareth’s nose scrunched up. “Bro, nothing sad is even happening, the mom got a new baby and the baby got a new mom-”

“They’re happy tears, jerkwad!” Eddie bit back, punctuating his reply with another sniffle. “This whole scene is about motherhood and loving your kid no matter what and it’s fucking beautiful, if you had a heart you’d be crying too!”

Jeff and Grant were laughing- to their credit, it was quietly and mostly to themselves. Gareth put on a mask of mock-sympathy as he grabbed a tissue and handed it to Eddie. “Those are some big feelings you’re having there, huh buddy?”

Eddie scowled at Gareth, swiping the tissue from him aggressively. He blew his nose into it, but not without giving Gare the finger first. 

Gareth patted Eddie’s back. “That’s okay, let it out big guy.” 

Eventually, the chuckling subsided until everyone’s focus returned to the movie. However, that scene still lingered in Eddie’s mind- the message about motherhood that this movie drove home for him every time he watched it. How Tarzan wouldn’t have grown into the man he was without Kala; a man so sure of his decisions, who trusted himself because his mother trusted him first. How no matter what happened, she stood by him and allowed him to chart his own course in life. 

Discreetly, Eddie pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping on his screen until he’d opened up a text thread. Quickly, he typed out a message. 

Love you, mom ❤️

The reply was instant, as it always was. 

I love you too bud! Everything okay?

Eddie smiled to himself as he typed out his response.

Yeah, all good! Just feeling extra thankful for my mom today :)

He turned his eyes back to the movie after hitting send, keeping his attention on the screen until he felt his phone buzz once, then again a few seconds later.

Aw, buddy! 🥹 That made my day!

I’m so proud of the man you’ve grown up to be. I raised a good one 😌

Eddie smiled, pride blooming in his chest. He and his mom had been through a lot, but they’d made it through because they’d had each other. Eddie couldn’t imagine what life might have been like for him if he hadn’t had her by his side. Who would he be? What kind of man would Eddie Munson have become? 

Now, here he was at college with his friends- his band- with a world of possibilities ripe for his picking. Could he have even gotten here without her support every step of the way? 

Maybe, he thought, but I would have been a hell of a lot more lonely.

[nian-7]

hiiii how are you?~ I saw your emoji list, it seemed very cute sksnks so I thought if it's possible, I wanted to request the emoji 🌸,🍀 and 💢for hajun, kanata and shiki from paralive plss and thank youu<3 c':

hi, i'm well!! i only do 2 prompts per req now so i just did the first two! hope you still enjoy

Hajun, Kanata, Shiki x gn!reader

✧🌸&🍀

✧fluff

🌸 - how do they deal with their jealous s/o?

-Hajun mocks you in a way about getting jealous over his fans. He teases you about how they'll never get to talk to him as much as he 'lets' you talk to him. Pretty annoying about it honestly.

-He doesn't really reassure you and just lets you tell him off, shrugging it off even though he does take at least some of your words to heart to keep them in mind just to avoid getting you jealous since he does care about you no matter what words come out of his mouth.

🍀 - how clingy are they?

-Hajun would never say it but he'd honestly like to be clingy sometimes. He doesn't want you to leave him and he wants you to truly love him but, he feels if he gets too clingy with you then you won't like him as much.

-He'd be somewhere in the middle at a 6/10 just because he does want to and he will eventually give in and hug you tightly, refusing to let go or cuddle you close to him even when you need to get up for something.

🌸 - how do they deal with their jealous s/o?

-Acts like he doesn't get jealous incredibly easy. Asks you why you got jealous over something so simple. Kanata just can't admit that he gets jealous really easy and so he acts like he never gets jealous.

-He doesn't really apologize about it and just kinda tells you that he doesn't plan on leaving you for anyone else because everyone else sucks. Hopefully you can take those as words of comfort from someone like him.

🍀 - how clingy are they?

-Undeniably the clingiest guy ever, a solid 9/10. He freaks out when you go to the convenience store without telling him. Texts you a bunch till you respond and tell him where you went. Kanata would hate to admit that he's so clingy to anyone even though it's pretty obvious.

-When you're around him though, you can't really tell that he's clingy. He acts very indifferent about it until you're out of his line of sight. That's when the clinginess comes out. Or if you both are cuddling, he can get clingy without realizing it as he holds your waist tightly as if you'll run away from him.

🌸 - how do they deal with their jealous s/o?

-The poor guy apologizes that he accidentally made you jealous, he doesn't have it in him to actively try and make you jealous. He thinks that'd be a little mean of him. Shiki is too sweet to even realize he made you jealous in the first place.

-However it happened, still apologize a bunch and tell you he'd try not to let it happen again even though he can be a bit clueless when it comes to stuff like that.

🍀 - how clingy are they?

-Shiki is clingy just because he really wants to be around you because you make him really happy! He's around a 7/10 in terms of clinginess. He gets a little worried when you're not around and wants to be right next to you all the time.

-He doesn't freak out too badly if you were to go out without telling him and just texts you and worriedly waits for your response. Not as clingy as Kanata but is also more embarrassed about being clingy out in public rather than acting like he doesn't care.

please do not repost any of my work without my permission, thank you for reading.

[beyondthesefourwalls]

For the prompts - loving them all so far! Jake + fluff + house + “Right here?” would be my request please. You are a great writer 💗

Hi Nonny! Thank you so much! I hope you don't mind that I threw some smut in here too. It worked so well with another ask that I got which included "here, why don't you just take it?"

Hope you enjoy it💚

----

warnings: fluff, smut, language

Cowboys and Hangmen

Jake was just as witty and flirty in person as he was in the brief texts you had exchanged, his southern accent making him that much more endearing to you. A mutual friend of yours had set you up, and you were having more fun than any other first date you had been on. 

“Honestly, Jake, come on. The Cowboys are overrated - at this point, I don’t understand why they’re even considered America’s Team.” 

He gasped in mock horror. You giggled at his dramatics. “Jesus, darlin. I think you just ripped my heart out. Here, why don’t you just take it? I don’t know if I’ll recover from this.” 

You could see the mirth in his eyes as he clutched at his chest, right above the organ in question. Feeling bold, you settled your hand right beside his. The cotton of his white t-shirt was soft beneath your palm.

“I can help nurse you back to health,” you offered, biting your lip as his green eyes watched you curiously. 

“That something you’d want to do for me?” he asked. You hummed in response, letting your fingertips dance across his chest. He caught your hand in his and you met his eyes. They were darker than they had been a moment ago, but you’re sure yours were, too. He ghosted his lips over your knuckles. “I need an answer, sweetheart. I’ve had far too much fun tonight to mess it up by making assumptions.” 

The heat that had been simmering between the two of you over the last two hours was reaching a boiling point, and instead of turning down the temperature, for once in your life, you decide to turn the dial up. His lips are slightly chapped, but they taste like the whiskey he had been sipping all night, and you chase the taste. 

“Is that answer enough for you?” 

The journey back to his house was a blur. His hand settled high on your thigh, warm and large in a way that made you wish the denim wasn’t keeping you from feeling him on your skin. Once you stumble through his doorway, it’s not long before all of your clothes are discarded and he has you on your back on his bedsheets. 

“God, Jake.” 

He was thick and hard and felt so good inside of you. Your back arched as your walls stretched to accommodate all of him. His hips were flush against yours as he bottomed out. Your fingers scratched at his back as he gave you a moment, and he didn’t move until you nodded your head and told him you were ready. He pulled out slowly, letting you feel every inch of him, and when he pushed back inside, you nearly keened. 

“You like that, baby?” 

“Yes,” you whimpered. “Fuck, yes. More. Please, I want more.” 

And more was exactly what he gave you. You lost yourself in the feeling of him, letting him have control. He whispered filthy words in your ear that had you shivering, and the press of his body against yours was deliciously heavy. You felt yourself closing in on the edge, and he had barely even touched your clit. 

“Want to make you cum,” he grunted. You could feel his dick twitch inside of you and knew he was close.

Jake’s thrusts were targeted and you knew that each drive of his hips was aimed at making you cum. The knowledge that he was chasing your pleasure while chasing his own was enough to have you shuddering around him. It had been a long time since a man had prioritized you in bed, and the notion turned you on more than it probably should. 

“Tell me what you need,” he demanded. You moaned, grabbing his hand and guiding it down to where the two of you are joined. He hissed when he feels your fingers touch the base of his cock, but he focuses himself, rubbing circles on your bundle of nerves when you tell him that’s what you like. The change is instant.

“Right here?” he confirmed. You nodded as his name became a mantra on your lips as your orgasm rushes through you. 

After, you laid tangled together on top of his sheets. He hadn’t bothered pushing them down or covering you, and the breeze from his ceiling fan felt nice against your cooling skin. Almost as nice as his body felt against yours. 

“It’s getting late,” you commented, resting your chin on his chest as you looked at him. He looked contemplative for a moment, like he was gathering courage. 

“I want you to stay,” he finally murmured, “if you’d like.” 

You smiled instantly, because it was exactly what you were hoping he’d ask. You move up his body to kiss him again. You found you were growing addicted to his taste. 

“Do you have something I could wear to bed?” you asked, “I have a thing against sleeping naked, sorry.” 

That flash of mirth entered his eyes again, and he gets out of bed with a chuckle, slipping his grey briefs back on when he stood. He digs through his dresser for a moment before something navy and soft is being thrown at you. When you see a faded Cowboys logo looking back at you when you inspect the t-shirt, you let out a full belly laugh.  You were so glad you had decided to go on this date.

word count: 903

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

“When was the last time you slept?” For sashnetra please?

Sorry this took so long for me to get out!! D: The only idea that I had for this prompt was within the Wedding Planner AU, which has been on my mind SO MUCH lately. But here's some college-age Sashnetra for a change!

(Also I barely proofread this lmao)

"When was the last time you slept?"

"It's been, uh- It's been a while, I think."

"That didn't answer my question. When was the last time you slept?"

"...I don't remember."

The fun part of sleep deprivation was long gone for Anetra. When you pull an all-nighter and stay up throughout the day. Everything is hilarious and you can't stop laughing at the simplest things.

Then after a good night of sleep, you felt great again, no energy drink needed. It was fine to deal with every once in a while, but not day after day for the entirety of fall break.

Sasha was still standing in the entryway of their apartment, her suitcase still had the paper tag attached from the airline. Anetra knew her girlfriend was excited to go on the study abroad trip to Thailand for the whole semester. Sasha's school breaks usually consisted of studying and crashing on friends' couches.

"I left on Wednesday before classes got out. Have you not actually had real sleep since then?" Sasha asked, arms crossed but held concern in her eyes.

Anetra felt like a small child in trouble. Her short-term memory felt like it was shot from her lack of sleep. She may have passed out on the couch for a few minutes at a time, but sleeping the whole night in her bed?

That hadn't happened since she last saw Sasha.

Anetra shook her head, feeling like tears were threatening behind her eyes. "I can't sleep. I've tried everything, but I can't,"

She never felt so over-dramatic. Her girlfriend was just on a plane for several hours, stuffed in an economy seat and dealing with exhaustion and jet lag.

And here Anetra was, whining about not being able to function like a normal human when she was at home all week.

Sasha left her suitcase and tote bag she used as a carry-on for the flight by the door as she rushed to sit next to Anetra. She wrapped both arms around her waist and held tight, "What's the matter, baby?"

Anetra felt like she could melt when Sasha held her like that. All the stress from the past week was about to wash away and she could just enjoy her time again with her girlfriend. She opened her mouth to start to explain why she couldn't sleep, but the ringtone from her cell phone chirped instead.

Tears started leaking out of Anetra's eyes, she knew exactly who was calling her. "She won't leave me alone. I didn't go spend Thanksgiving at her house and now she's blowing up my phone."

"Can I? I won't answer it, I promise." Sasha asked permission for Anetra's phone, glancing at it on the table. Anetra nodded, her cell phone felt like it was mocking her last bit of sanity.

Sasha already knew the passcode, unfortunately, this wasn't the first time this had happened. She scrolled through the call log history and the long thread of text messages, most unanswered. The messages read in tone anywhere from kind and caring to horribly malicious.

"She's been doing this since Monday?" Sasha asked in surprise.

Anetra nodded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, "I can't deal with her anymore. I told her so many times that I was done, but she keeps using the 'But we're family!' excuse" she said in a mocking voice.

Sasha sighed, putting the phone face down. "I think it's time to block her number."

"But she's-" Anetra started, but Sasha was quick to interrupt.

"I know it's your mom, but she's pushing way past your boundaries," Sasha said as Anetra's face fell more. "Listen, I know it's going to be hard, but you can't let her keep doing this to you."

Anetra stared at her phone, seeing it vibrate with a new text message. "I don't know if I'm ready," she said in a small voice.

Sasha thought for a moment, "What about you turn off your phone, and try to get some sleep. Then you can decide if you're ready," Sasha suggested.

The younger woman pursed her lips but nodded, "I can do that," she pressed the power button until the black screen took over the cell phone.

"Come on, I'm jet-lagged as hell. We could probably both use a good nap." Sasha stood up and held out her hand for Anetra to follow her to the bedroom.

Anetra didn't realize that she was grateful for Sasha to guide her to the bedroom until the room was spinning and there were two doors in front of her. She walked slowly as she held tight to Sasha's hand, without her, Anetra was pretty sure she'd be on the floor by now.

Pretty soon, they were both under the duvet, and Anetra's head was nestled on Sasha's chest. She felt long fingers run from the top of her scalp, all the way to her split ends. Anetra drifted off to sleep with the sound of the cars outside and Sasha's steady heartbeat.

She didn't have to face anything she wasn't ready for. Whatever she would have to deal with whenever she woke up, it was all going to be for the better.

[asherloki]

Drizzling evening

Bbc sherlock

Fluff

Word count:- 812

Dialogue prompt list

The clouds made it entirely clear how wrong I was when I decided I wont be needing an umbrella. I stared at the sky above and pouted, the evening dark sky was almost invisible under the red angry clouds, their anger also had a bit of mockery, mocking every human down there who'll run under the shelter if the rain starts, and as if they are about to laugh at me for ignoring the weather report.

"it's okay we'll get a cab" came from the man behind me. The enchanting voice of him, could melt any stoned heart. but not mine, atleast not now. So I preferred not to reply and walk to the bus stop. Sherlock eventually walked along. None of us uttered a word while we headed towards the nearest stoppage. Especially me, not even sparing him a glance, yet I knew him enough to know his brows were furrowed, but there was care in his expression I was well aware of it.

Me not sparing him a look was fine, after an argument it's perhaps normal, but the clouds not sparing me for my mistake of ignoring my lovely sea green umbrella at home was not acceptable. The droplets started to hit the ground. And both of us fastened our pace. still the bus stop was far enough from us to get there in time before the drizzle gets heavier. Mr detective carefully placed himself at the outside of the pavement so I stay towards the inside and the drizzle spare me a little more than it was sparing him. I watched all that however decided to remain ignorant of the fact that Sherlock would get drench himself than let me walk alone.

Reaching the bus stop was a hustle and more disappointment came along as there was barely any space under the shade. The rain caused everyone take shelter under the shade of the bus stop. And eventually we were getting soaked in rain.

"there's some space for you under the shade, go there I'll call you when I'll see the bus coming." he said his brows still furrowed as he took me by arm and let me stay under the shade. I didn't fight him this time. As I stood there I watch him, standing outside the shade, almost completely soaked, still not losing against the heavy drizzle which just got heavier.

I stood there watching him, my anger was still there, the disappointment of our argument too, but he's Sherlock Holmes. He can forgive anyone he loves, so to be clear he has forgiven my hundreds of mistakes. And that's when I forgave him, like our families say, " oh they can have really big fights, but they can't live a second without loving eachother."

My train of thoughts went on making me smile a little perhaps until he gestured me to come near him. The bus came and my man was soaked in rain, drops of water trickling down, tracing his sharp features from his wet curls. The fluffy curls were now sticking to his forehead for being drenched.

The bus ride also followed silence between us, but this time I spared him glances time to time. Watched him texting lestrade, discussing about the baffling case for which he needed Mr brilliant. After we reached, I put my bag on the floor and glanced at him, he smiled knowing my anger melted like ice cubes in summer, so I smiled back as well.

"you good now?" he asked softly, his voice filling our living room with a familiar warmth, the one I adore.

"yes, thanks" formalities was never a thing for us, so my statement made him raise a brow.

"just so you know" he said "you'll never have to be alone in such situations especially as long as I'm here". Yes it's true, years of taking care of my own problems, hiding issues from my family convinced me I'll be doing this alone my whole life, until one day Sherlock came like a gift. He helped me with everything since the beginning, without asking anything in return. How can I refuse to love such a person when my past lovers haven't been this kind to me?

"I want you always, to be a part of my everything, my joy, my sadness, my anger, my tears, my laughter, my success and also my failure" I replied untying my hair and tossing the rubber band somewhere in the room. Reason why rubber bands aren't enough ever. He did seem to understand the depth of my feelings for him was as much as his was for me.

"now before you catch cold go to the shower, and put these drenched clothes off" I demanded like I always do, and he obeyed like always. Then I knew his sudden smirk is about to be followed by a mischievous comment or rather offer,

"care to join me under the warm shower?"

[thespiritssaidso]

Mistakes Happen (And That's Okay)

Summary: Shawn and Juliet are having a baby. Juliet thinks that a small gender reveal for just the two of them would be a cute idea. But of course, mistakes happen. 

Notes: okay I’m not sure if anyone has seen it (if not, pleaseeee do), but there’s a TikTok of a couple doing a gender reveal the wife made and she messed up with the cake. The whole thing is super sweet, the husband comforts her and comes up with a solution and yea 

Anyways, I basically just based this prompt off of something that happened irl. Because it was cute and sweet and fluffy. So. Yea. It feels kinda cheap to me to do this instead of making up something on my own, but currently my imagination is at net zero. 

And yes, I know that Shawn and Jules canonically don’t want kids. I just thought this was a cute idea. 

Flufftober day 12: “I’ve Got You” (extra prompt)

—————

“This way, come on! I’ve got everything all set up!”

“Hang on, wait wait wait! Geez, Jules, I didn’t know you could go so fast in heels.” 

It was an especially sunny day at the park, or it seemed that way at least. A crisp breeze blew fallen leaves around, yellow and orange and red swirling through the air. The sound of children running around the small playground a few hundred yards away fell into the background as Shawn and Juliet walked – more like speed-walked – in the opposite direction, off into a small field surrounded by trees spaced out a few feet from each other. 

Earlier, about an hour or so ago, Juliet had enlisted the help of Gus to set up a little something for her and Shawn. A checkered blanket she’d borrowed from Carlton, a basket filled with champagne and two champagne bottles, and a homemade blue cake that Juliet had baked from a box and covered in white frosting and topped with blueberries and strawberries. 

The whole time they’d been setting up, Gus had been mock-complaining and making quips about how a gender reveal was the whitest thing Juliet had decided to do. 

See, Juliet was about four and a half months pregnant, long enough to have gotten an ultrasound from the sonographer to tell her what the baby’s gender was.  When she got the news, she knew Shawn would be over the moon when he found out as well. 

So that was why she’d arranged all of this (with Gus’ help of course). It took a lot of effort to keep it a secret from Shawn, but all he had been to figure out was that she was planning a gender reveal party for the two of them. 

Right now, Juliet was leading Shawn over to the little setup. Of course, she’d had Gus stay behind to watch over it and make sure that no one messed it up or stole anything, and then texted him when they were on their way. 

Soon enough, they had reached the little setup Juliet had worked so hard on. It looked better than she remembered it had, somehow. Even though it looked exactly the same. Maybe it was because she was with Shawn this time. 

“Oh look at that! There’s a blanket and a basket and everything!” He pointed at everything. 

Juliet nervously wrung her hands. “Do you like it? I didn’t want to do too much, but I still wanted to make it special-”

“It’s perfect! Jules, this is great!” Shawn sat down on the blanket immediately and tried to scoop some icing off the cake with his finger. 

Luckily Juliet was fast enough and stopped him with a quick and gentle slap on the wrist. She didn’t want him to accidentally reveal the cake color too soon. “Shawn! Not yet!” 

He dramatically drew his hand back and held it. “Ow!”

Juliet only smiled at Shawn as she sat down beside him. “Okay, so I already told you this in the car, but I just want to go over it again. We’ll take this,” she leaned past him and reached into the basket, pulling out the champagne glass, “and then use it to get a piece of the cake out. And whatever color it is will be the baby’s gender.” 

“Sounds good to me, Jules. Do you want to do it now?” he asked, reaching for the glass. 

“Yes! Yes yes yes! I can’t wait any longer.” Juliet was so excited. She knew Shawn had said that their baby’s gender didn’t matter, that he’d love them all the same no matter what. But of course he’d always ‘slip up’ and call them a boy.  

Together, they pushed the champagne glass into the cake to reveal- 

“Green? Isn’t it supposed to be… not green?” 

Juliet stared at the cake, heart sinking in her chest. No. No no no. What- how- no, she had- but- she had been certain she’d used blue dye, the batter had been blue and so had the outside of it right before she’d cover it in frosting… 

Then she remembered that the batter had been from a yellow cake mix. The food dye must have changed it into green when it went in the oven, but the outside remained blue while the inside went green. 

A million emotions ran through her already hormonally imbalanced mind, most prominently confusion, distraughtness, and anger. She knew that she was making a big deal out of nothing, but she couldn’t even think of that at the moment. She’d messed up, that’s all that mattered to her right then. 

Juliet couldn’t help the laughs that quickly turned into sobs. How could she ruin something so simple? One color, that’s all she had to do. But apparently she couldn’t do that right, either. 

Shawn noticed the quick change in her emotions. “Hey, woah woah woah, it’s okay! It’s alright, come here, Jules.” 

Tears clouding her vision, she fell towards where she heard her husband’s voice and felt him catch her. “It’s- it’s not supposed to be green, it’s- it’s not-” she hiccuped out, burying her face in his shoulder. She could feel the minimal makeup she’d put on for this smear.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. It’s just a cake.”

But it wasn’t just a cake, not to Juliet. It was the meaning of it, of the surprise it was supposed to hold. The surprise that Shawn still didn’t know. 

“Jules. Hey, look at me.” He said gently. 

Juliet sniffled, and did as he asked. Through tears, she saw her husband’s face, and it was so full of love. “Hm?” 

“It’s all going to be okay. Look, I still don’t know what the baby’s gender is. Nothing’s ruined, you’re okay.” He looked around, and Juliet could see he was thinking hard. “Uhh… oh! Here-”

Taking off an arm that was wrapped around her, Shawn leaned over to the cake and grabbed a strawberry and a blueberry. 

Juliet was confused now. “Shawn, what…?” 

“Okay, here, hold these.” He handed her the pieces of fruit, and she took them without a word, slowly understanding what he was trying to do. “You choose one of these, and I’ll close my eyes and you put one of them in my mouth. Strawberry if it’s a girl-”

“-and blueberry if it’s a boy?” Juliet finished. 

“Yes! Yes, exactly! Here, I’ll turn around.” 

And he did. It looked a little uncomfortable, having only his torso turned in the opposite direction while his lower half stayed seated where it originally was. 

She giggled at the overdramatic act. But it worked, it definitely made her feel better about the whole situation. 

Juliet already knew which one it was, so she popped the strawberry in her mouth. When she’d finished chewing, she said “Okay, I’m ready.” 

It was easy to see how hard Shawn was trying not to smile too big, and instead keep his mouth open for Juliet to put the chosen fruit in while one hand was clamped tight over his eyes. 

Juliet, carefully placed the blueberry in his awaiting mouth, anxiously anticipating his reaction. 

It wasn’t instantaneous. He had to sit for a moment. But when he realized what it meant, his hand fell from his face. Juliet had never seen his eyes so big before and full of joy. 

“We’re having a boy?!” He practically shouted in excitement. 

Juliet laughed again, and nodded her head emphatically. “Yes!” 

“Oh my god, Jules!” 

And they were both laughing so hard now, joy oozing from the couple as they hugged and fell into the grass behind them. 

“We’re having a boy!”

—————

Notes: sorry for posting kinda late, my energy’s been running low lately

ao3 link

[theogony]

the case study into sakusa kiyoomi's facial structure

written for the haikyuu big bang 2023 (@hqbb) ! Been wanting to write Sakuatsu for forever now and finally gave me the impetus to start writing :3 check out the beautiful companion art by twilightdays on twitter here!

Atsumu grins, foxlike and sharp, before turning to Osamu. 

“If I manage to get a smile out of Sakusa Kiyoomi within 3 months, you’ll agree I’m the funnier twin and give me an entire 2 weeks’ free supply of your onigiri.”

There are very few things Atsumu likes to almost surely bet on - examples being volleyball, Bokuto’s ability to break the sound barrier when calling Akaashi, and Osamu’s ability to be an annoying, stuck-up ass. 

Osamu hums, before holding out his hand with mock solemnity.

“A week and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

The newest addition to the list? Sakusa Kiyoomi’s unflinching jawline. 

-

–no one's convinced that Sakusa Kiyoomi can smile, least of all Atsumu (which is a downright shame considering the fact his face could be chiselled out of pure marble) - but by god if Atsumu is a quitter; especially when his drunken pride and Osamu's onigiris are on the line.

Alternatively, the 5 times in which Atsumu tries to make Sakusa smile, and the one time he does (ft. errant volleyballs, bad cooking, drunken decisions, and one nosy Olympic team)

read the rest on AO3! (formatted better there) / read below the cut!

0.

It’s close to 1 in the morning when his phone buzzes, and Atsumu is nowhere near sober enough to comprehend the texts appearing on his screen. 

He squints, blearily, trying to decipher through giant blobs of colour who exactly the notification is from, almost regretting the drinking contest he went up (and won!) against Aran. Next to him, Suna isn’t doing much better, for once phone left unguarded on the tabletop where he’s slumped. Aran and Kita are off in some corner, doing god knows what, and the only one remotely sober is Osamu, their designated driver, still picking at the leftover onigiri. There’s a particular glint in his eye that Atsumu knows means that he’s busy doing some particular chef analysis with the ingredients and god knows what else, so he resigns himself to swiping at the messages. 

Omi-Omi: Remember we’re both practising our sets tomorrow 

  Do not be late.                                          

Atsumu rereads the message twice, before throwing his phone (as gently as he can while drunk) with a loud groan.

“Fuck Sakusa Kiyoomi. Honestly”

Osamu turns his head around at the loud proclamation, before wordlessly joining Atsumu on the table next to him, retrieving Atsumu’s phone along the way. Instead of handing it to Atsumu like a sane person, he whacks his shoulder with it - ignoring his cry of pain - prompting Atsumu to monologue on “Stupid, Stupid Sakusa Kiyoomi and his stupid, stupid rules and stupid, stupid face.”

Osamu seems content to let him continue rambling, but with an unexpected amount of effort, Suna props himself up on the table, fully facing Atsumu.

“You’re kind of obsessed with Sakusa, aren’t you?”

Atsumu sputters.

His new fixation is one born of superiority. Not in volleyball - it doesn’t take a genius to notice Sakusa Kiyoomi’s sharp instincts and sheer skill - but in charm. Like, let alone having suaveness - hell, Sakusa’s Kiyoomi’s face is probably stuck in a perpetual line of disgruntle and disappointment - which occasionally curves up at a specific angle between 5 and 8 degrees when he looks down upon you, mocking. 

And if Atsumu perhaps thinks it’s a shame, considering his face, he isn’t drunk enough to admit that - even to himself. 

“Komori San did tell me Sakusa’s an emotional guy though”, Kita hums vaguely enough, having seemingly emerged from the deepest corners of the bar to provide sage wisdom on the perpetual disposition of Kiyoomi. Suna vigorously nods, before attempting to trawl his endless gallery for an almost certainly photoshopped image of Sakusa smiling.

“Omi cannot smile. It’s like. Statistically impossible.” 

Even imagining it sends a flush throughout his body. In horror. Of course. 

“You know what I think?” Osamu finally drawls, resting his chin upon his palm with a grin, and Atsumu suddenly feels a flicker of fear. “Tsum-Tsum here”, he helpfully adds, pinching his cheeks with a saccharine grin, “simply isn’t funny enough for Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

How. Dare. He. 

Atsumu’s face blooms scarlet. As if he could never be enough for that stuck-up prick. Sakusa Kiyoomi should feel lucky that he even spends time with him! A man who doesn’t know how to handle social interaction and function without the help of a 5-metre radius from everyone should feel honoured Atsumu even takes pity to keep trying!

"How dare ya say I'm not funny enough for Sakusa Kiyoomi!" 

Osamu takes one look at the petulant expression on his face and starts laughing even harder, and Atsumu suddenly decides that no, perhaps it isn't too late to repent for the fact he never ate him in his mother's womb.  

Before another full brawl can break out between the two of them, Aran holds his hands up in a placating gesture.

“We could always settle it using a wager.”

Atsumu grins, foxlike and sharp, before turning to Osamu. 

“If I manage to get a smile out of Sakusa Kiyoomi within 3 months, you’ll agree I’m the funnier twin and give me an entire 2 weeks’ free supply of your onigiri.”

There are very few things Atsumu likes to almost surely bet on - examples being volleyball, Bokuto’s ability to break the sound barrier when calling Akaashi, and Osamu’s ability to be an annoying, stuck-up ass. 

Osamu hums, before holding out his hand with mock solemnity.

“A week and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

The newest addition to the list? Sakusa Kiyoomi’s unflinching jawline. 

1.

There are 10 minutes left into the first game of the season in Tokyo, in a gym with over 3000 fans when Atsumu Miya lines up one of the last serves of the game. Though the distant cheering of the crowd is inspiring to some of the players - he knows Bokuto thrives off it, hell, in any other situation he would too - but this close to a victory - close enough he can nearly sink his teeth in - he can’t afford any slip-ups - any uncontrolled variables. The weight of the ball rests heavy and fits perfectly in the groove of his palm - but he doesn’t let the familiarity of the scene fool him into forgetting that playing against the Adlers is different from when it’s just practice matches. 

And though it may frustrate him, well. If there’s one thing life has taught him through a myriad of scraped elbows and bruised dreams, it’s how to channel that spark of anger. 

Atsumu smiles, fox-like and vicious as he hits a perfect serve toss - one slightly low, but still powerful enough to reach a fellow teammate, the resounding thwack memory at his point - comfortable enough to elicit a familiar welling up of nostalgia and competition. His eyes dart across the court, analysing the trajectory of the ball as it sails cleanly across the set (perfect path, his inner voice internally trills) - until the ball is smacked back against an impenetrable block of players, and he lands back on his feet, back in high-school again and staring at the faces of the triumphant team in front of him.

Damn it. This isn’t working. 

The frustration he’s feeling is clear in the eyes of his other teammates - he can see it reflected across Ninja Shoyou��s face - can see it in the way Adriah’s grin strains a little at the edges - the way Oliver’s hands tighten imperceptibly. 

But it’s nothing compared to the analytical grin Sakusa sports - eyes narrowed and face scowling, as though trying to figure out the key to cracking the game open. 

And then his gaze shifts - and there’s a flicker of something colder underneath, gone after an instant, and it hits Atsumu like a bolt of lightning. 

It makes him grin - makes him want to try something impulsive. 

“Omi-kun”, he continues, deliberately pitching his voice low so that the others can’t hear. “Trust me, yeah?”

In his peripheral vision, he sees Sakusa give Atsumu a long look, before dropping his hands to his sides.

It’s all the cue he needs for him to recklessly set the ball high up into the air. His body moves into a long-remembered dance, fluid and fast as he steps into motion, habit honed into instinct at this point. One step, two, three—he loses count and jumps, calloused hand slamming into the sweat-sticky leather of the volleyball. The ball sails upwards - a dazzling comet to the rest of the court and a thinly veiled demand.

Well? Hit it. 

There’s no doubt that Sakusa Kiyoomi is a brilliant player - there have been enough interviews - reports and articles on his “potential” and “style”.

But it’s one thing to read about it - and one thing to see his eyes twitch as he analyses the path of the ball in a way that is so perfectly like him - see his body flex as he responds to the arc of the ball, sending it perfectly across the court - the sharp zing through the air lost to the quick frenzy of players rearranging themselves to the unpredictable spin that he’s known for. Hirugami goes up too, but it’s a split second too late - and the thud of the ball as it hits the court is lost to the applause. 

Though he can feel the confused exclamations from Hinata and feel more than hear Bokuto loudly screeching in his ear, Atsumu doesn’t pause to think before carefully bumping a jersey-clad shoulder against Sakusa’s briefly. 

“Omi-kun”, he lightly drawls - giddy on adrenaline and excitement, inhibitions lowered now that one of his reckless decisions has already paid off. “No celebration?”

Sakusa sharply cuts his gaze away as he makes a soft noise under his breath - though not fast enough to completely hide the smirk he’s sporting - nor hide the familiar spark in his eyes.

“Your set was too far left.” 

Fingers twitching, almost hesitant to reach out, Sakusa walks off to address the Adlers. 

Demanding bastard, he thinks, but he’s still wearing a foxy grin as he trots behind him, maintaining a careful distance as they go. 

He tries not to think about the half-hidden smirk on his face - and the near brush of their fingertips. He dimly wonders if it’d feel like electricity - like the same thrum of lightning whenever he sets a volleyball into motion - like fingers fluttering an instant before locking together for impact.

2.

The sun has barely risen by the time the rest of the Jackals are up on their bus. 

This, however, has done nothing except possibly increase the amount of vigour in Bokuto's voice as he sings another slurring edition of the latest hit on the radio. Even though Atsumu's 90% sure this counts in some way as a violation of the Geneva Conventions with the way it pierces through his skull, he's frankly not awake enough to comprehend much. He could bother Hinata into doing something, but unfortunately, said Hinata is currently miming a conductor with such zeal that Atsumu perhaps wonders if there's any lost love between Shoyou and music. 

Meian ends up coming to their rescue, turning around and glaring at them with such wither and vitriol that it could rival Omi. Bokuto eventually shuffles back into his seat near Shoyou, as the bus quiets back down to a volume reminiscent of a traffic jam in the suburbs. 

However, as an unceasing panic starts to set in suddenly, Atsumu wryly ponders that perhaps Bokuto’s one-man band was the only thing loud enough to drown out the large thumping of his heart as he sits next to Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

At rest, like this, the sharp angles of his face smoothen out, light playing over his features with a soft, golden glow - an unintentional side effect from his constant attempts to find a comfortable sleeping position (though judging from the angle chosen, Atsumu can almost foresee the inevitable funk Kiyoomi’s going to be in due to an excess of kinks in his neck.) 

The bus rolls over a peaceful bump, and as though the universe is agreeing with Atsumu’s astute deduction, shifts Kiyoomi slightly, bobbing his still immaculate curls. Atsumu hums, turning the other way before freezing as he feels the bus jolt again - this time sending an irritated Omi straight into the space between the seat-

-And Atsumu’s shoulder. 

This close to him, Atsumu can feel the steady rhythm of Sakusa's breath - probably intensely regulated from all the yoga he does, because of course he does yoga - and can see the delicate curve of each of his eyelids, hooded and alluring. His moles are close enough for Atsumu to trace - and he has the irrational thought to try to connect them - like glittering stars in a night sky. 

As a particularly harsh sun ray strikes the window, Kiyoomi tsks, shying away like a vampire, Atsumu muses, before his heart rate kicks up another notch, and he stills, unmoving - because Sakusa Kiyoomi is now unconsciously nuzzling himself into the crook of Atsumu’s neck. 

His skin is impossibly soft, and his mouth twitches - curving imperceptibly - a facsimile of a smile. Studying him like this, unguarded and awash in the rosy sunlight, Atsumu can't help but feel faint at the sight of a completely unguarded Sakusa Kiyoomi - at the sight of him so peaceful.

So……..soft. 

So….human. 

He’s snapped back into reality by Bokuto's deep lungful of air, indicating another round of the song, and Adrian practically diving across the aisle to tackle him down. Despite his best attempts at stifling his surprise, he shifts imperceptibly - but even that much is enough to send Sakusa skittering back like a cat, eyes blown wide.

The two of them spend the rest of the bus ride in silence, content to let Hinata's chatter fill the space in between - and if Atsumu still steals glances at Sakusa back, it's only to see if Sakusa is planning to turn around and smile.

Nothing more, and nothing less. 

3.

The bar is vaguely familiar to Atsumu the same way everything’s vaguely familiar when you’re seeing swirls in mid-air, and internally he thanks himself for not breaking out into a brawl with Osamu the last time he was here. The next thing he thinks to himself is about the stupid bet and the stupid, stupid man who’s been taking up nearly all of his waking hours with every waking syllable that comes out of his stupid mouth. For analysis. 

Or something. 

Atsumu would have made more of an effort to remember, but it’s not often that Meian gives them free rein to get as drunk as they like - a victory treat to celebrate another match won against the Adlers before they’re forced up at ungodly hours of the morning for their regular drills.

(After an entire day of recovery, of course, from the inevitable hangover everyone would be nursing. Meian may be harsh, but he’s not an absolute monster.)

His head is spinning, and he feels lighter than a feather, and Atsumu knows without a certainty he is not drunk - rather, almost certainly hammered. Not that it matters, because he still makes his way to the bar to get more drinks because why the fuck not, since he’s already past the point to care. 

It’s only when he’s halfway across the room, and he’s close enough to recognise Hinata and Kageyama furiously making out in the corner, that it dawns on him that the bar is the other way, and he sharply veers away from the sight. Before he can make it any further, he finds himself collapsing into the nearest barstool and leaning close to the nearest person he can see-

“What. Are. You. Doing.”

Atsumu distinctly recalls his previous prayer and then also dimly remembers the fact that the universe, in general, is a fucking joke. 

Oh, he faintly thinks, as he turns around to get a front-row view of Sakusa’s steely glare. Karma is a bitch. 

But hell, does intoxication suit Sakusa Kiyoomi - a slight sway in his hips as he turns to face him, moving to some melody that only he can hear, one that he’d very, very much like the lyrics for. His usually sharp gaze is a little unfocused as it wanders over the room, his over-bright, red-rimmed eyes making him look tired and ready for bed. Or getting into bed with someone, he thinks, ignoring the unfamiliar twang of indignation and anger, only if Sakusa Kiyoomi was the guy to get into one-night stands. 

Atsumu gives himself a little shake, telling himself not to stare. Of course, he’s a pretty drunk. 

He stares anyway. 

How can he not, when every single thing about him is just the right side of dishevelled – his cheeks flushed and his hair mussed in that lovely end-of-the-night sort of way that makes him want to pull him closer and run his fingers through it. The still perfect curls that now curl loosely around Sakusa’s neck, so at odds with his put-together appearance on the court, beg to be pulled around his fingers, Atsumu not letting go until he’s rumpled and breathless, and the only thing that is on the both of their minds are each other. He wanders vaguely forward, thinking of doing just that, and his gaze suddenly sharpens and snaps to him.

“Miya?” he says sharply, as though glimpsing Atsumu for the first time, and well. Atsumu doesn't cower, but he does take a step back. Slowly, his dark eyes shift up and down his body (checking you out a delicious voice whispers in Atsumu’s brain) and all of a sudden, his prickly shield slips, and he visibly slackens. 

"I've found you." He says, in what he thinks is a whisper. 

It is not - yet the breathy lilt of his voice makes it sound like an invitation. 

Atsumu is certain this is a ploy to somehow send him to an early grave - because there's no other explanation for why Sakusa Kiyoomi is currently saying what he's saying- and because there's no other explanation for the way his heart painfully stutters a beat when he hears those exact words. 

You're drunk, his brain ridiculous supplies back.

"I'm very much not drunk, thank you very much. I'm completely undrunk." Kiyoomi glares back as he puffs up like an adorable cat, and Atsumu faintly thinks he's never been more glad that Sakusa is the definition of a liquor snob - only drinking the finest (and strongest) wines. 

"Right." 

The frown between Kiyoomi's brow deepens, and oh, he's fucking grinning now, the urge to laugh bubbling up in his chest as Omi continues scowling like the contrarian he is.

"I'm serious! I can walk perfectly straight. "

The fond feeling in his chest only grows as he watches Sakusa attempt to walk away - before swaying and falling back into Atsumu's arm, content to nuzzle into his chest. Something pleasantly possessive aches along his bones at the thought that he is the only one who gets to see him like this – only him and not Hinata or Bokuto, who gets to see him sleepy and soft at the end of the day, whispering secrets and leaning close - eyes and words crystal clear and bright despite the low hum and mundanity that comes with sitting in a cheap dive bar.

“Stop that. Don’t smile at me. I know what you’re doing.”

“And what am I doing?”

“You’re trying to… seduce me.”

Atsumu blinks. 

Did he mishear that? Freudian slip? Can you Freudian slip with your hearing when you're drunk? Even so, he can’t help but frown a little. In all the years Atsumu has known Sakusa Kiyoomi, and further in all the years he’s heard from Suna and Komori - this evening’s behaviour is extremely atypical for him - he’s almost never seen Kiyoomi this drunk, let alone expect him to go search for him in such a state. 

Which is ridiculous. Because Sakusa Kiyoomi is aloof. Mysterious. Not someone like Atsumu, who feels too much and wants too much, half ready to carve his heart out of his chest if Kiyoomi would direct a smile at him. 

Atsumu blinks again. 

“Does that happen a lot?” he asks, in what he hopes is a tone that doesn’t scream Hey, Maybe in another world where I was a bit drunker, and you were just a random stranger, and we had no emotional baggage I’d be kissing you senseless, but here we are, and I’m totally not jealous, but also I may be a bit jealous, but it’s chill and totally fine. 

His life is a train wreck.

Sakusa seems to ponder the question, before lolling his head onto Atsumu’s shoulder with frightening ease.

“Perhaps. About 5 times in this room, though none of them were good enough to be partners. There’s a difference between partners and partners, of course.”

“Really?” He says, only slightly shocked at the fact that Kiyoomi’s been propositioned 5 times today alone. But damn, if that doesn’t hurt Astumu’s ego. He’s not even locked eyes with anyone or checked out someone today (present company excluded, of course).  “What sort of-”

Sakusa ploughs on as though he hasn’t heard him, even as his voice slowly becomes barely discernible under the cottony feeling in Atsumu’s mouth as his eyes roved over Kiyoomi’s curls and the chaotic din of the bar around them. 

“The next song, dance with me.”

Atsumu stopped short. “What?”

"Dance with me," he repeated, clumsily pushing himself off from Atsumu's hand that he forgot was lightly coiled around his extremely nice to-hold bicep. "The next song, whatever it is." 

"If you wanted to get rid of me, you could have just said-" 

"No!" Kiyoomi puts his hands on his shoulders, and for a second Atsumu fears that he might lose his balance - an absurd image that almost makes him laugh. "The song. The next. Let's dance," Sakusa mumbles, eyes glistening and breathing heavy, but gaze determined. It's silly, really, but there's something adorable in the way he gazes at Atsumu with the seriousness of a marriage proposal, and laughter bubbles up in his chest. It's foreign – this urge to tip his head back and let himself laugh in front of Sakusa Kiyoomi - but he just lets it out, conflicted by how easy it is - how familiar all of it feels. 

But God, it feels wonderful, this addictive cocktail of amusement and care that Atsumu wouldn’t have any other way.

“Alright”, Atsumu finally says fondly, as he feels the beat of the next song start up, and he gently brings Kiyoomi to the edge of the dance floor. “Let’s dance.”

The song that plays in the background is quiet and smooth, a woman crooning out to her lover, accompanied only by a guitar. Even then, Sakusa moves limply, eyes focused downwards as Atsumu lets him lead through a decently complicated half-step that seems to fit this song exactly despite their stiffness. As the song slowly began swelling towards the inevitable climax, Atsumu let his eyes rove over Sakusa Kiyoomi’s body - in the dip of his shoulders, in the half crook of his grin, in the glimmer yet distracted allure of his eyes as he looked towards their feet, which had stopped moving a long time back. 

“Something interesting down there?”

Kiyoomi looks back up, eyes unfocused and dazed, and Atsumu suddenly realises he’s close enough to smell the faint, barely perceptible smell of alcohol on his breath. 

Close enough to see the chapped corners of his mouth. 

Close enough to kiss, he startlingly thinks as he sees Kiyoomi move forward. 

Before Atsumu can think too hard about it, he nestles his head into the crook between his shoulder and neck and slips his hands down from his hips to his waist, his quiet crooning more of a vibration into his neck than an actual audible sound.

“Atsumu?” Kiyoomi finally murmurs, the name almost an inarticulate sound in his alcoholic muttering.

"Mh?"

“You know the thing about partners?” 

Atsumu nods, half distracted, distantly remembering the drunken ramblings.

"You're going to tell me which one I am?" He half-jokingly asks, almost expecting the answer to be something flippant.

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, before indulging him anyway, leaning close to his ear, his next few words barely above a whisper. 

"You're the best kind."

He says it so carelessly - like it isn’t the most remarkable thing in the world. Like it’s just a fact of life, known and accepted and unchanging. The sky is blue, the earth is round, and he makes him ridiculously happy just because he's the "best" kind. Atsumu presses his lips together, embarrassed by the sudden rush of emotion in his chest.

"I-"

Whatever he's about to say next is drowned out by the large clinking of glass in the background, and all of a sudden the moment breaks - the both of them simultaneously moving apart. Kiyoomi still smirks at Atsumu, as though he knows precisely what he's doing to him.

Even when intoxicated, he still looks at him with a challenge in his eyes - still looks at him with a look that tells him that damned fool still wants to win. 

Atsumu’s not sure that he'd be entirely averse to losing at this point. 

But for God's sake, not tonight. Not when Atsumu still hasn't managed to crack a full smile on Sakusa's face.

"Drinks!" It's not quite the smooth recovery he hoped for, but Sakusa doesn't say a word, only tilting his head to the side as Atsumu makes his escape. 

As he perches himself onto a rickety barstool, the song shifts into something more upbeat- but the moment he shared with Sakusa Kiyoomi out of all people still replays in his mind - the slight tickle of his breath as it ghosted over his ears, the firm but gentle grip of his palm on Atsumu’s hips. A strange combination of feeling like he can’t quite catch his breath and somehow like he also just took the deepest, cleanest, fullest breath of his life comes over him, and he furrows his brows at the surprising pleasantness of it all. 

He suddenly wishes Sakusa was here, not that he’d be much help in the current situation. He’s probably trying to fantasise in peace about how victoriously he’d be able to crow his immunity to any hangovers and headaches over the rest of them (over Atsumu only, he reflects in hindsight). Sakusa’s a bit ridiculous like that. His drunken brain supplies ridiculously beautiful, and Atsumu suddenly remembers why exactly he’s drinking again.

To forget about stupid Sakusa Kiyoomi and his stupid theoretical smile and-

-and the bartender suddenly slams 3 shots on the countertop in front of him, moving forward to the next counter. Atsumu says a quick prayer for good health and good times before downing it all in one go, and he turns around to get up and chase the bartender back - only to bump into the man at the barstool over.

"Sorry!"

The other man grins at him, shirt half unruffled, and platinum dyed sticking out messily in a charming, roguish way.

"I'm sure a handsome stranger like you can make it up to me by buying a round for the both of us." 

Sure, Atsumu may have been half joking when getting offended when Sakusa Kiyoomi had been propositioned 5 times, if only for the fact that deep - very deep down, he knows that number is slightly improbable even for someone as great as him. But at the same time, that doesn’t necessarily mean Atsumu has never been flirted with - hell, it doesn’t mean Atsumu Miya is blind enough to miss the hungry way the stranger's eyes skim over his body. 

Had it been any other night, Atsumu would have probably made this a night to remember for the both of them - a night spent with a quick drink and an even quicker tussle in slick and sweat at some rundown hotel. But for some reason today, an extremely familiar man with black hair and a smile for some reason he’s sure would light up the entire room creeps into his mind.

The clink of glass on the countertop breaks his reverie, and he dimly realises he’s been staring at the man with a dopey grin - a fact which the man seems to revel in, preening under the dim lights as he leans closer - far too close for someone with innocent intentions. 

“Hope you don’t mind. I ordered one for us to share. It’d be awfully presumptuous of me if I didn’t bother to greet the most sinful man I’ve met tonight.”

Even though the sensible voice in his head currently blares about 3 different warning bells, Atsumu doesn’t move away - paralysed by the knowing look in his grin so exactly familiar to the one Kiyoomi was just wearing-

“Miya?”

The sensible voice in his head goes very quiet.

Atsumu turns around on the barstool, ignoring the hesitant voice asking whether he's already spoken for.

"Ah, Omi-kun, wait-"

Sakusa opens his mouth, but then shuts it, eyes flicking between the two of them.

"I'll leave you to your date. My apologies for interrupting."

Without even a second thought, Atsumu scrambles up, following Sakusa into the freezing air.

"Omi, it's just a stranger-"

Sakusa turns around, moonlight silhouetting him like a vengeful angel as he glares at Atsumu, apparent indifference to Atsumu's matters forgotten.

"Do not call me that. And don't take me for an idiot. "

For a brief second, Atsumu considers reaching out to Kiyoomi and his hand twitches - a move that doesn't seem to go unnoticed, given the brief flash of…sadness? that flits across his features. 

In the end, none of them moves - and Sakusa finally turns, inky curls glistening in the moonlight as he walks away, leaving Atsumu to sober alone in front of the bar.

And it’s just…… it’s so damned unfair- the way Kiyoomi looks so breathlessly stunning even leaving like this - and Atsumu suddenly feels a stabbing ache go through him at how badly he wants to run back and say sorry for something not even entirely his fault.

The best kind of partner, huh? 

How could he say such things when Atsumu hasn't even seen him smile even once? 

4.

When Atsumu first looks into his mini fridge after promptly dragging himself through another tortuous evening drill session with Meian, Atsumu swears he can hear his brother shout in his head at the dismal state of it. Normally, Atsumu would simply order something - rather than run all the way to experiment with ingredients from a completely new store - but he supposes that it's about time that he figures out how exactly Osamu just throws things in a pot and somehow produces the next culinary masterpiece. 

Midway through swiping through Japanese recipes, Atsumu sees an ad for a surprisingly appetising-looking sauce and impulsively decides that perhaps it’s time to try something new - and so he scours the internet for easy-to-make dishes and quickly swipes to a recipe for some soup he’s never seen before. 

Pho, the cheerful grandma says as she shows off her little stove top that looks nothing like Osamu’s meticulously arranged shelves - a fact that despite everything sends a small thrill through him. Osamu’s always been the showier one with food - cooked for precision, cooked to experiment and discover. 

Atsumu’s simply happy cooking for a sense of comfort - one this recipe seems to promise in spades. 

As he navigates the slightly off-beaten crossings, Atsumu muses about the strangeness of the situation - even he can admit Osamu is the real culinary twin - and the only other place he's ever tried to cook for himself is at their childhood home in Miyagi, a surprise downpour always chilling the tatami floor - which always made the food seem even more fresh, even more warm. Though in a way, it's not that much of a surprise - on the court, alongside Hinata's sunny disposition, Bokuto's cheer, and even Sakusa's frown he's found himself a new home amongst the rest of them - maybe not one that is perfect, but one that is inexplicably perfect for him.

After stepping into the chilly wonderland of supermarket air conditioning with the sound of a tinkling bell, Atsumu finds that all things considered, grocery shopping isn't too bad. Though it takes him a few unnecessary turns around all the aisles to locate all the produce he came here to buy (and a few other extra sweets because really, who knew they had such a varied selection of mochi?) Atsumu can triumphantly tick almost everything off his list - except a packet of glass noodles, which he thinks is right in the aisle in front of him. 

And there he sees it - a holy beacon nestled in between two other irrelevant packets of other pasta brands. He's lucky he came when he did - it seems to be the last one in the entire store, and it seems to beckon to Atsumu only till it’s cruelly snatched out of the aisle, to be rescued and imminently kidnapped and held for an indefinite ransom in some random thief's basket.

Luckily, Atsumu has been training for the past few years for this - being a jackal and more importantly, a twin of Miya Osamu meant always fighting for the best food, and so Atsumu reaches out to grab the other edge of the packet with enough dominance that he’s certain is bound to scare the other person away. He doesn’t bother tugging on the packet more than once - he sagely recalls that if done one too many times, your hidden desperation will reveal, which can become a tool that your enemy can use against you. 

“Miya?”

Atsumu feels a faint sense of déjà vu as he hurriedly drops the edge of the packet, jaw slackening in surprise.

While being Osamu's twin may have prepared him for a lot of things, it unfortunately did not prepare him to combat people who could stun Atsumu with a single glance. 

Then again, nothing really could prepare him for the immense self-rationalisation and gymnastics he'd have to go through against Sakusa Kiyoomi every single time.

Even dressed down and bathed in the most harsh of fluorescent lights, Sakusa still manages to maintain flawless posture and form. More importantly, Atsumu realises upon looking down into his shopping cart, that he's somehow managed to stack everything up in neat little rows and ensure it doesn't spill outside his basket. Atsumu is sure that if Osamu was here, he would weep at the forgotten opportunity to make Omi a top aisle organiser and perpetual employee of the month, and instinctively, he shies his basket away.

"Pho?"

"You’ve made it before?"

Sakusa furrows his brows harder, as though regretting the inevitable headache that appears whenever he's in Atsumu's vicinity. 

"If you're making Pho, why are you buying sugar? And so little garlic…." 

Scandalised, Atsumu snatches his basket back. Even if Sakusa hypothetically was right in the sense that he hadn't bothered to properly look at the exact quantities of ingredients, he did at least bother to call Osamu to let him know about his culinary foray! Or at least leave him a voice note after he didn’t pick up, most likely still busy with his restaurant! 

As though he can hear his inner monologue, Sakusa arches a single eyebrow at him, and Atsumu slumps over defeated. 

Fuck his stupid face. 

As though deciding that a socially acceptable amount of time has passed, the irritation on his face grows, and he picks up the basket, heading to the counter. 

“Omi-kun, don’t you know I need the glass noodles? ”

To his credit, Sakusa stops, though his eyebrow twitches. 

“There are plenty of other recipes out there which are more traditional.”

“Yes, but the recipe calls for it as well, so it needs to be a staple of mine, y'know! And besides-” Atsumu scrambles, eyes catching on the nearby bottles of Soju and Sake cheerfully advertised, lining the aisles directly opposite to them. 

“If you want, you could come over and help me cook! We’d make a drinking thing out of it- have some food and wine-” And oh, Atsumu is rambling, so he sends himself a mental note to shut up and give Sakusa his most winning smile. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem as impressed as he hoped. And yet, it still sets Atsumu’s heart thrumming. 

“It’s 10 pm, Miya.”

Atsumu blinks, tossing his head back - if only to hide the darkening blush on his cheeks at the typical connotations that come with inviting someone to their house this late at night. 

“How badly do you want this?” Sakusa asks, eyeing the half-hefted bag of groceries, and Fuck, Atsumu thinks. 

That’s certainly something to think about later. Not now, in the middle of two aisles in their local grocery store. Definitely not now, under the inscrutable gaze of Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

“..... Fine. Under one condition.”

Atsumu’s already prepared to say yes, but he can’t help but try pushing a bit further.

“I don’t know, depends on the deal….” 

Sakusa holds his gaze impassively, though his eyebrow twitches again in what Atsumu realises is covert exasperation. 

“Just give me the rest of it. When you're done. ”

Atsumu would be lying if he said he'd know what to do with it anyway  - and with jubilance, he picks up Sakusa's basket alongside his and begins marching down towards the checkout. 

“Miya, wait-”

Instinctively, Atsumu switches both the baskets to one hand, the song and dance familiar from his childhood trips with Osamu, fingers gently stretching to hold the ones behind-

-Oh. 

Atsumu never thought of his hands as pretty - covered in calloused, fingers bruised asymmetrically - immensely useful but mechanical joints with seamless cogs. Holding Sakusa’s fingers, however, feels like holding paper lanterns - like cradling a gentle craft Atsumu can break in a minute. 

It feels like holding perfection - and Atsumu never wants to let go. 

Belatedly, Atsumu realises that it's Sakusa Kiyoomi - Sakusa touch-averse-no-sweaty-hands-will-bleach-his-eyes-out-after-this  Kiyoomi whom he's holding hands with, and he nearly drops his neatly fitted palm - already running through millions of excuses to quell the dull ache that he’s sure will remain imprinted - a phantom feeling he’ll continue chasing for the rest of his life.  

But then he feels the curling of fingers - soft, but firm - cold ivory contrasting with the warmth of the flush that he can feel prickling just under the marble skin. Atsumu’s gut twists with a hunger he can’t name - a feeling of fullness, yet desperate yearning. 

“... Just hurry and buy the groceries, Miya.”

And if none of them says another word about the matching blushes on both of their cheeks, then. Well. That's neither here nor there. 

-

“You can take those onions, and make X's in the bottom with a knife, and drop them into that pan.”

"In with the soup?"

"No. Shoot." He kneels and retrieves a pot from one of the lower cupboards. "In here. They need to boil for a minute, and then you take them out."

Atsumu does as Sakusa says, filling the pan with water and turning on the flame. He finds a knife and scores the onions, and under his watchful eye carefully measures the fish sauce and cuts the lime wedges, before throwing them into the broth. He searches in a cupboard for a stainless-steel spice caddy and throws in a star anise and a pinch of salt, before letting the contents come to a simmer. On his other side, Sakusa prods the pieces of meat with a wooden spoon, and Atsumu is free to let his eyes wander over Sakusa’s frame and marvel at how comfortable he looks cooking like this, humming a song under his breath, fitting into the small kitchen space so seamlessly - as a familiar piece slotted into place. 

“I’d rather you not burn my kitchen down at midnight. Don't want the neighbours to think that this is what I do with all the men I invite over.” Atsumu finally says, arms lazily inching a breadth away from Kiyoomi’s. It’s easier to cover vulnerability with banter they’re both familiar with, and his body involuntarily relaxes as he sees familiar irritation flash across his face, breaking whatever trance he is in. 

“Fuck you, Miya. Or would you rather I leave?”

Atsumu doesn’t bother answering - doesn’t bother calling out the bluff behind his words. It’s easier than breaking this illusion than admitting that Atsumu could have ordered out and not made a makeshift space in his life that Kiyoomi could have fit into, a small bubble of quiet amongst the loud. Easier than confronting the fact that Sakusa could have said no from the start - could have hidden closed himself from Atsumu and never shown him this side of him - from the highlighter-coloured jersey to the small reading glasses currently perched on his nose - could have hidden the way he relaxes around Atsumu in a way no one else seems to see. 

“I think I need to add more liquid," Sakusa finally decides, pouring water from a tea kettle into the pan, suddenly causing the glasses he’d forgotten to take off to steam.

"I can't see."

Sakusa unconsciously steps away so that he stands a bit closer to Atsumu - the rest of the apartment is silent apart from the sounds of the stove, the kind of quietness that comes only when it’s nearly midnight and everyone else with their sanity intact is sleeping. Even as he holds up his hands, messy from cooking, coated with flour and thin grease and prepares to remove the glasses, Atsumu reaches over him carefully - fingers pressed to his bare arms, cool despite the warmth of the kitchen, a whisper of Let me ghosting over his lips as he pulls him closer to pull off the fog stained glasses before his breath catches in his throat, and he’s faced with eyes wide and open and brilliant and bright and startling, staring straight at him - and instinctively he knows, from the storm raging in his chest and the drum of his fingertips on pale skin that something’s changed.

The sharp whistle of a pressure cooker breaks the silence between them and startled by the sharp noise, Sakusa looks away wildly, leaving the glasses askew before rushing to fix the fish sauce and ensuring the entire pot noodles haven’t been charred. 

Even as moonlight slants over the both of them, reminding Atsumu of the entire absurdity of the situation - it’s 1 am, and here he is making pho with Sakusa Kiyoomi out of all people - he can feel the palpable tension between the two of them simmer into something calm. Inexplicably, Sakusa starts humming again, a half smile curving his lips and starts doling out the steaming hot bowls of soup. It’s not perfect - the meat’s charred in some places, the noodles too stiff - but Atsumu savours the soup like a starving man, the broth filling him up with warmth. The light above them flickers, and perhaps because it’s midnight - perhaps because Sakusa’s trying to be soft, in his own way - he begins to talk - begins telling him a story about Motoya trying to impress Suna by trying to learn how to bake. The shadows on his face soften the harsh features - and for a change, Atsumu sits and listens - occasionally interjecting with short anecdotes. In one moment - when the shadows on his face shift with apparent disbelief, Atsumu thinks he sees the tiniest trace of a smile, open and honest, playing on the edges of Sakusa's lips - but then he slips off into drowsiness - the tartness of tangerines haunting his dreams, juxtaposed with the gentle sweetness that is simply, inexplicably Kiyoomi.

5.

Atsumu’s not sure when this started - when hanging out with Sakusa Kiyoomi became part of his daily routine - when sliding next to Sakusa Kiyoomi became an inevitable fact of life, regardless of whether he’d be loudly shouting with Hinata, or pummelling Bokuto over some silly bet. A lot of it is probably from his dogged persistence - but it’s still surprising how they’ve gone in a blink of an eye from mere teammates to good friends. 

And yet, he thinks, frowning at the back of the setter who’s currently doing his best to try to disinfect every single surface of the gym equipment he’s currently meant to be helping to carry for Meian (decidedly ignoring the fact that he’s also very comfortably perched on the floor under the guise of an extended water break with Hinata), he’s never seen that damn smile even once. 

And sure, Atsumu has always been a too-curious-for-his-own-good kind of guy - but this particular bet echoes in his mind for some reason he can’t name. Maybe because it involves someone else for a change. Maybe because that person is Sakusa Kiyoomi, out of all people - the one person Atsumu can never accurately predict, the one person who clashes with Atsumu like gasoline and oil but complements him like fire and kindling. 

“Is he staring at Kiyoomi-kun again?” 

Before Atsumu can think of an accurate response, Shoyo loudly cuts in, shushing Bokuto with what is meant to be a discreet whisper. 

It’s obvious why he’s his favourite Kouhai, really, Atsumu proudly thinks as he lets his eyes wander back towards Sakusa’s expansive back. Always ready to defend his superiors-

“We’re not meant to tell him we know!” 

Atsumu blinks once, brain grinding to a halt as he considers the words. 

“Know what?”

Bokuto and Atsumu make sudden eye contact, and Atsumu feels a sudden urge to take a deep breath and count to ten. 

See, the thing about the rest of the MSBY jackals is that the one thing - if it can be called a thing - that brings them together is their pestlike nature. Sure, some of them are upfront about it - like Sakusa, who would gladly invoice you an itemised list of everything you’ve done wrong the past month - while some of them are less intentional about it - like Adriah accidentally revealing he’s been watching Atsumu figure out whether it was a push or pull door for months on an end. 

Individually, however, both Bokuto and Hinata are probably the best at it - simply because the two of them are so genuine about it. You think they’re doing good and being honest until Bokuto’s loudly weeping on your shoulder about how beautiful Akaashi is at 3 am after offering to buy you a round, or Hinata’s grinding alongside you into the air - subsequently making a fool of yourselves on Instagram. 

And then you end up forgiving them, in the end, simply because they’re both fucking sweethearts about everything. 

Which is precisely why Atsumu’s already made a mistake by ignoring the biggest red flag of this entire conversation - the fact that the two of them are in complete agreement over something. 

“It’s just...your vibe.”

“Our….vibe?”

Hinata pauses, momentarily deep in thought. “Like… the tension between the both of you where you’re always staring at him, and he doesn’t look back until you’re not looking at him. And you also know everything about him like his favourite snacks and colours and flowers, even the things Bokuto and I never notice! And the fact that you always spend time around him outside practices, and you’re always able to predict his bams and counter with your kachows! It’s like me and Kageyama before-” 

Before Hinata can go into even more sappy and excruciating detail about his own love life and make Atsumu feel pathetic about the lack of his own, his mind glazes over to absorb Hinata’s spiral. 

Tension? Sure, he has regular tension with Sakusa Kiyoomi. It’s inevitable when you’re dealing with someone exactly like Sakusa Kiyoomi, who walks around 24/7 with an insane amount of rules and a stick up his ass. If there is any tension in the first place, it’s only from the frankly ridiculous amount of little grievances that Sakusa has about everything Atsumu does in general. Not that Atsumu really minds changing his habits, even if a good 50% are external factors, if only because adapting to seeing and living alongside a more comfortable Sakusa Kiyoomi is something he secretly doesn’t mind. 

The one thing that’d help dissolve some of that tension, however, is probably the fact that Kiyoomi has still never smiled in his direction. But now that he does think about it though, the two of them are probably his best bet on trying to figure out whether Sakusa’s capable of smiling - given Motoya’s probably in both Suna and Osamu’s pocket when it comes to the terms of the bet. 

“It's for science.”

“For science?”

“For personal reasons.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m performing a socially backed-up study.”

“Wow.”

“It's Osamu’s fault.” He’s losing credibility.

“Tsum-Tsum, just because you like Sakusa–”

“Shut up.” 

It’s because he really, really doesn’t. Sure, it’s been quite some time since he’s made out with someone or looked for another outlet to blow off some steam. And sure, he and Sakusa have been getting along together - and they do spend enough time off the court for their relationship to be misconstrued. And even if Atsumu is irrationally overly invested in making Sakusa smile for reasons he can’t explain, it’s not like there’s any concrete proof of it. 

It’s mere conjecture. Plausible Deniability. 

-Or it’s plausible deniability until a stray curl falls across Sakusa’s face, and Atsumu lets his gaze travel across the moles littering his face - mapping the haphazard constellations he makes until he meets Sakusa’s gaze head-on from across the room, a sharp pang in his chest pulling him in like a siren’s song. 

Omi-kun would look really good with a smile, Atsumu first thinks. I wouldn’t mind seeing it every day, is the next thought and oh, he suddenly understands Bokuto and Hinata’s casual sappy comments about their own lives and their partners, because he’s pretty sure he’s fallen head over heels for the most insufferable person he knows - fallen for the snark in his voice whenever he insults him and the quiet care at which he makes space for him - fallen for the constant push and pull between them and the stupidest quirks like the way he secretly loves reading maudlin poetry and the way he competes over everything. 

Oh fuck, he faintly thinks. 

Atsumu’s not sure what he wants to do right now. Scream? Cry? Kiss Sakusa Kiyoomi until he’s out of breath? Seek therapy? 

Bokuto sympathetically pats his shoulder with the wisdom of a centuries-old wizard as Atsumu crumples into his hands. 

“Don’t worry! You can just go up to him and kiss him! It worked out with me and Akaashi!” 

He should have swapped to the Schweiden Adlers when he had the chance. 

+1.

Here’s the thing about Sakusa Kiyoomi. Even though their relationship can be tenuous even on good days, and on some other days he’s a complete prick - well, the one thing that he doesn’t let it interfere with is his damn sense of professionalism. 

It’s unsettling, the way he’s able to push everything aside and pretend to notice the way Atsumu’s been ignoring him for days on an end, terrified by the sudden realisation that he wants to kiss Sakusa fucking Kiyoomi. Sometimes, when Atsumu feels particularly self-flagellating, and he notices him looking his way but not saying a word, he lets himself think that it wouldn’t matter in the first place - that Sakusa has never cared. 

It’s suffocating, the sudden realization that you like someone, he thinks. Like inviting a beast willing to swallow him up whole. Atsumu knows himself - he knows he won't be able to disguise it for long, that he'll burst eventually, the words he'd fought to keep buried rushing from his lips the moment Kiyoomi looks at him. 

But for now, he’ll contend himself by pushing himself further. Even though his t-shirt is soaked it sticks uncomfortably to his back, he meets Kiyoomi’s challenge with gritted teeth and satisfaction searing through his veins, agreeing to stay back even as the rest of the team files out of the gymnasium. 

The set starts easy. Even though Sakusa sometimes goes easy on the others, he never goes easy on him. Watching him give it his all, hair barely unruffled, even as his eyes narrow on the tosses Atsumu sends at him, makes the satisfaction in his ribs flare and grow. 

By the time they stop, both of them are breathing hard, and Atsumu briefly squeezes his eyes shut as he sees Sakusa step forward. 

“You don’t have to try so hard.” 

Atsumu stills, nearly flinching at the inexplicable hurt that comes with finally having Kiyoomi’s concern - the intense want that comes with being this close. Like this, less than one foot away from each other, there’s a small part of him that wants to simply give in to the voice in his mind to pin Sakusa Kiyoomi to a wall and kiss him till he forgets his name. 

But he doesn’t know how to ask for that. Can’t ask for that. 

“I do.” Doesn’t he fucking get it?

Kiyoomi’s gaze turns quizzical, even as he takes another step forward, so close to Atsumu he can feel his breath on his skin - can see the slight crinkle between his brow, can see the golden light framing him already like a memory. 

“Why?”

It’s warm and inviting, the way his voice echoes in the empty room, the air still between them except for the rush of blood in his ears and the thundering of his heartbeat. 

“Because I’m in horribly into you, you idiot.”

He looks at his lips for a split second before it hits him - an insane cocktail of adrenaline and embarrassing bravery that grabs him by the neck until he’s digging his fingers into his scalp, and he pulls Sakusa Kiyoomi till their lips finally, finally touch. 

Kissing Sakusa is like kissing the sun - like tasting the softest and sweetest thing Atsumu’s ever known, and he chases after it - colliding into his body and slotting his easily into his own as if they’d been carved together from the very start. Atsumu kisses him harder, burying his hands into his hair, and Kiyoomi loops a hand around him before dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. Atsumu whines, pliant in his hands, ready for him to take and take, a silly grin parting his lips against his will as his brain goes blissfully quiet - happy to stay like this, framed against a window underneath the sloping sun - just like this, for the rest of his life, having found everything he wants to know.

And then it hits him like a truck. 

Oh. Oh fuck. 

He doesn't even have time to come up with an excuse by the time Sakusa steps back, lips red and puffy with a giant smile on his face.

Atsumu feels his face burning as he reaches out, ever so gently to brush a thumb over his lips, the touch lingering even as he caresses the corner of his mouth agonisingly slow, as though memorising the features of Atsumu’s face. 

He’s dizzy, and the world doesn’t seem to make much sense right now, the thoughts in his brain blurring from coherent thoughts to simple exclamation marks. 

But then Sakusa Kiyoomi begins to laugh, wild and free, and Atsumu knows he’s a complete goner. 

His eyes are bright and inviting, sparkling with genuine mirth that spills from his face, lighting the skin up in a way Atsumu never knew he could fall in love with - brightens his face up in a way Atsumu now knows he won’t be able to live without. Even as Sakusa’s hands wander freely across his face, Atsumu feels his face heat up - suddenly shy even as he parts his lips in a silent request. Kiss me, he thinks, half pleadingly, as Sakusa’s fingers stray dangerously close to his lips, moving with a deliberateness and earnestness Atsumu has never felt before, kiss me until I can’t breathe - until the only thing that I can think of is you.  

“You know”, he finally hums, tucking his head into the crook of his neck, tangling his hands behind his back and pulling him tight. “I was wondering how long it’d take you.”

Atsumu gasps, his entire body going beet red even as Kiyoomi nuzzles him close to his ear, cool breath hot against the sensitive skin on his neck. 

“You—this is not how I wanted to tell ya! I wasn’t even sure if I was ever gonna tell ya, you absolute ass!”

“I thought you liked me”, Kiyoomi hums, light and free in a way that Atsumu hasn’t heard before. 

Atsumu freezes, voice catching even as he looks at the ground. “You’re welcome to ignore that.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” asks Sakusa, half smile still on his face, even as Atsumu scrambles back out of his embrace, face aflame, only half convinced this entire sequence isn’t just an extended hallucination from the universe. 

“Ya serious?”

But then Sakusa laughs again, sound too real and vivid to ever compare to any of his fantasies, sweat dripping down his skin and eyes earnest and bright, and he reaches forward to grip his wrists gently, pulling him back into a hug again, light slanting through the glass and painting them aglow - eyes closed and hearts peaceful, perfectly in bliss. 

Kiyoomi doesn’t answer him - instead, he lifts his head and kisses him, enough times that he loses count until his brain is dazed - until he’s a little but a mess under his palms and Atsumu finds he couldn’t care less. 

“If I had known it would lead to this”, Atsumu finally says, biting his bottom lip as his chin rests on top of Kiyoomi’s head, “I would have embarrassed myself in front of the team a lot sooner.” 

“You embarrass yourself enough anyway.” he finally hums, no real heat behind the comment. Atsumu still isn’t sure if he deserves that smile or those words and Kiyoomi’s whole heart - and he knows when the others get back they’re going to tease him mercilessly, but right now Sakusa Kiyoomi is looking at him with all the warmth of the world in his eyes and Atsumu finally knows what he looks like when he cares. When he cares about him. It's—it's so lovely that it makes his chest ache.

Maybe, Atsumu finally concedes, some drunken bets with Osamu aren’t that bad after all. 

[innytoes]

Eff this, I should be at Build-a-Bear / Kayla and anyone

Okay but I was coming up for the plot of this and my brain rolled in your other prompt of 'I don't think pancakes are going to fix this. I think I need ice cream too. / Flynn ship of choice, romantic or platonic'

"Come join us at our summer job, Kayla, it will be fun, Kayla!" Kayla mocked as she flopped down on the too-hard mattress of her tiny bed in the Counselor's Cabin. "I just spent half an hour holding back a girl's hair while she puked because she ate two bags of sour gummy worms on a dare."

"Flynn had to break up a fight about who would be allowed to date Harry Styles once they made it big and they did not take it well when Flynn pointed out he was a thirty year old man and they were twelve," Julie said. She was equally flopped on her bed, but in the opposite direction, staring at the ceiling like she was regretting her life choices. "And a fourteen year old just nearly made me cry after I confiscated her vape."

"Fourteen year olds are vicious," Kayla agreed.

Sure, this 'pop star' camp was a pretty sweet gig. The environment was beautiful, they got to do what they loved, and they had copious amounts of free time when they handed the kids off to the boys - Willie and Reggie for more traditional camp stuff like horseback riding and archery, Alex for ballet where Kayla taught modern and hiphop dance, and Luke for songwriting.

Even though half the time Kayla stuck around at dance, Julie joined the songwriting workshops, and Flynn was always down to judge whatever weird games Willie or Reggie came up with for the kids.

And the kids were usually okay. Except for tonight. Maybe it was a full moon or something.

"Reggie just texted me that he and Luke had to put out a fire in one of the boys' cabins," Flynn reported. "And Willie heard something about them wanting to sneak out tonight and try and raid the girl's cabin, so he and Alex are driving into town to get some werewolf masks and gloves to patrol tonight."

"That'll be fun," Kayla said sagely. It would be a disaster, but that was a Willie and Alex problem.

"Why did we think this was a good idea again?" Flynn complained.

"The money," Kayla said.

"Looks good on college applications," Julie pointed out.

"Eff that, I should be at the club," Flynn whined.

"I should be at Build-A-Bear," Kayla sighed. Not as a summer job, mind you. She lasted like three days into her trial period before she accidentally exploded one of the bears by overfilling it and made a small child cry.

"Build-a-bear?" Julie asked, intrigued.

"It's my happy place," Kayla said. "You get to pick out something cute and soft and then see it come to life and dress it up in cute outfits and then you have something to hug." She stopped, realizing how uncool she sounded.

"Aw, now I want to go to Build-a-Bear," Julie whined.

"As soon as we have a day off, we're going, all three of us," Flynn declared. "But until then, let's raid the kitchen."

"Late night pancakes?" Kayla perked up. Julie's chocolate chip pancakes were legendary.

"I don't think pancakes are going to fix this," Flynn said. "I think I need ice cream too."

They were still halfway through a pint of the Good Stuff, hidden away behind some bags of peas in the big freezer, when the shrieks from near the boy's cabin started.

"We're going to need more ice cream," Julie groaned, as she looked out the window and saw lights coming on in all the cabins.