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thinking about shiba togo who decides he's too old for this shit when he gets roped into taking a plucky, overconfident sorcerer under his wing.
who didn't sign up for this—for the way you always steal his hair ties. the way you can't not talk back. the way you always chew gum and fuck with the radio station in his car. the way his car always smells like your goddamn strawberry shampoo.
the way you bat your eyes at him and grin when you shove a pile of snacks next to his pack of cigarettes on the counter at the konbini.
he didn't sign up for the sheer amount of stamina 20-somethings seem to have. for the way he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance before the blinks into existence inside of a club at 4 in the morning. your drunk, flirty giggles and your fingers lingering against his shirt buttons.
your skirt and your perfume and the way you whined his name.
shiba puts you to bed. and when he gets home, the first signs of light cracking through a cement sky, he stares at himself in the bathroom mirror for a while. stares at the red mark of lipstick smudged against the collar of his shirt for far longer than he should.
he collapses in bed, on top of the covers. he stares at the ceiling, runs a hand over his face, and ignores how hard he is.
you're a kindergarten teacher. you're a little too young to already be divorced with a thumb that too often runs over the bare spot left on your ring finger. you're a little too old to be dealing with dating apps overrun with flighty twenty-somethings that hardly even want to know your name.
you're a little too tired and more lonely than you'll admit with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes lately, though you try for the kids—the eager little sea of faces that hang on to your every word each day.
daichi's vague on the details when he asks you for a favor, your younger cousin simply tells you he has a friend from high school who's studying to become a teacher. a university student who needs to interview one like yourself for a career project.
you're not prepared for it, for him—for sugawara koushi's bright eyes and soft smile. for his gentle, raspy voice and his warm, open laughter. an old soul with a smart mouth and a steady, knowing gaze that notices everything.
you're not prepared for him to want to know you. for him to listen. for him to make you suddenly realize the difference between being looked at and being seen.
(you're not prepared for all of the sunlight that filters in, the way it lights up all those dark places your mind has been.)
sugawara's patient when you're forgetful and kind when you're having a bad day. he's brilliant and he's funny and he's going to make an incredible teacher. he flirts with you. he makes sure you know he likes when you wear yellow, and his eyes crinkle in amusement when you make a self-deprecating joke about the decade of time that exists between the two of you.
(you're not prepared for it—how utterly wanted you feel the first time that you find yourself pressed up against your front door with sugawara koushi's mouth against yours.)
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・❥・+18 (not sfw, mdni); Ukai x f!reader; older brother's best friend, secret romance, oral (reader giving & receiving), Ukai POV, overstim, spit kink, bit of breeding kink (no mentions of pregnancy), lightly possessive Ukai if you squint; this was supposed to be a two paragraph drabble until it wasn't; wc: 1.1k
older brother’s best friend ukai keishin who hasn’t seen you around since you left this small town for college. he heard from your brother that you’re doing well, that you’re coming back to help out with the family business for a few months, but other than that he’s not really sure what’s been going on in your life. in ukai’s mind you’re still the kid from back then, always on his and your brother’s heels, with your knees scraped and the hand-me-downs, whether it was your old squeaky bike or the clothes you wore.
do you remember me, keishin?
he looks up from the newspaper he’s reading behind the register, blinking at you slowly, a lit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. it takes him a few heartbeats, just trying to match your appearance now with the girl from back then, the girl who cried at her graduation, the girl with the big dreams and the desire to leave everything and everyone behind. he says your name like a spell and the smile that spreads across your face unfurls something he had tucked away carefully for years.
you’re a vision. it’s clear that the time spent away did you well. the air around you is completely different now, there’s a certain maturity to you, a glow from within that wasn’t there before, a light in your eyes. leaving this place has allowed you to break free from your cocoon and grow into the person you were always meant to be. ukai feels his chest tighten and he swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. he knows you, always did, and yet it’s like he’s meeting you for the first time. your arms wrap around his neck in a clingy hug just the same.
it’s almost unfair how effortless you fit into his life, like a puzzle piece that had been missing. dropping by at the sakanoshita store to grab ingredients for dinner, helping him hang up flyers around town to raise funds for the karasuno volleyball team, picking you up when your car breaks down and your brother doesn’t answer his phone so of course you’d call ukai. he’s making time and space for you in his everyday routine while ignoring the growing remorse he feels towards his brother.
after all, it’s only a matter of time until ukai breaks.
“your brother can never know about this,” while he kisses you feverishly in a dark corner of the garden at your brother’s wedding. you taste sweeter than anything he ever had a flavor of, drowning out the guilt that coiled in the pits of his stomach. he probably shouldn’t be doing this, you’re his best friend’s little sister damnit, but he knew from the moment you dragged your heels against his leg under the table that he would never be able to resist you.
“your brother can never know about this,” while he has you pinned underneath him in the backseat of his car, your panties around your ankles and three of his fingers buried in your pussy. the sounds escaping your mouth are nothing but obscene and have him straining his pants, a damp patch forming where he came undone earlier. you’re making a mess out of yourself, leaking all over the seats and the fabric of his pants, trembling and whining while you’re begging him to make you cum one more time. you’re greedy and he’s just the same.
“your brother can never know about this,” while you’re kneeling between his spread legs, cheeks hollowed out while you suck him off. ukai is on the phone with your brother, discussing something about the upcoming training camp, his knuckles white from the way he’s gripping the back of your head and pushing you down until your nose is nestled against his pubes, your eyes watering slightly. you’re so good at this, barely making a sound except for the small gasp for air when he allows you to pull back, watching you alter between kitten licks and sloppy kisses pressed against his shaft. the guttural moan that leaves him from deep within the moment he hangs up the phone is your cue to take him again, deeper, harder, letting him use your mouth until he’s close, so close, pulling out only so he can cum all over your pretty face.
“your brother can never know about this,” while he sucks on your tits through the fabric of your sundress, making you beg for his cock while you grind against his thigh. it’s summer and the air is as sticky as your dripping cunt, and even though this has been going on for months, ukai still can’t believe sometimes he gets to have you like this, perched in his lap, nimble fingers unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans just enough to make his cock spring free, resting heavy against his stomach. he tilts your head back with a big hand gripping your chin, tapping your cheek with one finger and you open up for him so obediently, letting him spit in your mouth before he kisses you like he wants to devour you. you’re a good girl, you know how to ask if you want something, but more than anything you also know what you want and how to take it. you sink yourself down on his cock and let out an airy laugh, clenching hard around him, and he dreams of having you like this forever.
“your brother can never know about this,” while he’s impossibly deep inside you, your shaky legs draped over his shoulders, folding you up like origami on his bed. he’s fucking you as if he wants to mold himself inside your being, making you remember the shape of him. ruin you for everyone else, some darker desire bubbles up within him. you chant his name while you’re dancing on the edge of your orgasm; he can tell from the way your eyes get hazy and lose their focus, your kisses getting sloppier, your cunt tightening almost painfully around him as if you want to milk him dry. and oh, how willing he is to give you all of him; harsh thrusts of his hips, whispered sweet and dirty nothings against the shell of your ear, his cock throbbing deep within. where do you want it, and your answer is always the same; inside, not wasting a single drop, stuffing you full until you’re dripping from him the rest of the day.
ukai is not sure for how much longer you two can keep this a secret or for how much longer you’re staying in town. but he’ll be damned if he lets you get away now that he gets to have you in a way he never dared to dream of. he doesn’t know if it’s love or infatuation, but what he does knows is that he’d sink to his knees to find the answer between your thighs and your parted lips, one open-mouthed kiss at a time, with your fingers tangled in his hair and dripping for him like honey.
a/n: some blond man loving demon possessed me writing this i'm afraid and now i can't get him out of my mind. @megapteraurelia afraid to tag you because you always seem to make my brainrot even worse (ily)
preoccupied with your search for a particular name amongst the colorful stack of plastic folders sitting in front of you, you don't notice that your next meeting has arrived until a low, warm voice suddenly startles you from your thoughts.
a disposable cup edges its way into your line of sight, the scent of coffee more than welcome after hours spent in this very spot, and you glance up to meet a pair of honey brown eyes staring down at you.
even without his scheduled parent-teacher conference time slot and his daughter's orange folder now sitting in front of you, you'd have immediately clocked the man standing in front of your desk for natsumi's father based on those eyes alone regardless.
"you must be kita-san," you say brightly, quickly standing up to shake his hand. "that was very kind, thank you."
despite the fact that you spend most of your day wrangling seven-year-olds with arts and crafts and silly voice impressions, you like to consider yourself a professional.
you take your job seriously, truly.
but you do have eyes.
and natsumi's father is, without a doubt and in the most objective sense of the word, a dilf.
kita's wearing brown boots and a pair of worn in blue jeans with a hole threatening its way over one faded knee, splotches of white paint and motor oil in various spots across the denim. his white t-shirt is spotless in comparison, and a red bandana peeks out from the pocket that sits over his heart.
and as you shake his hand, you find yourself distracted by his forearms, by his tanned skin, by the way the sleeves of his t-shirt protest the flexing of his biceps.
your throat goes dry as you tear your eyes away to look at his face instead, though the sight of him pushing silver hair tipped in black away from his face doesn't help matters in the slightest.
he loosely laces his fingers together in front of him as he settles down into a chair, and you're absolutely mortified by how quickly you notice the lack of a band around a particular digit.
"you're welcome," his mouth curves upwards, and it's like a soft, warm kiss of sunshine fluttering against the shell of your ribcage. "and shinsuke's fine."
your toes curl in your flats, lips twitching to mirror his smile as you flip open natsumi's progress folder.
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mommy, please......... "you look ridiculous in that outfit, by the way" OR "if you die, i'll kill you" with big boy hottie hot kaiju man kafka hibino???????
KAFKA HIBINO missed you. Like, a lot. Waaaay more than he was willing to admit. Because, y'know, maybe that's the fucked up part. After all, while he was busy chasing his pipe dream of being by Mina's side and saving the world?
He already had you.
The Kaiju is finished off in a small prefecture outside Tokyo. It's quick work on the Defense Force's part, and Third Division does a good job keeping property damage to the minimum. Collateral is low, no one died, and all in time for lunch.
The clean-up crews are on the scene fast — and Kafka has to bite the inside of his cheek when he spies a familiar van bearing the company logo of his previous employer.
Back before he managed to land himself boot-first in this dream job? It was you and him against it all.
He spies you shrugging on your hazmat suit by the back of the old van — the one with the dings in the bumper from the guardrail on the McDonald's by company headquarters, the one you and him used to visit after every shift.
"Long time no see, hotshot!"
His voice feels like a sucker punch. The smile on his face is worse. That uniform, too, only adds to the burn — and you sharply snap your mask to your face in response to Kafka Hibino's uncanny ability to make everything seem okay.
It's not okay. He... Fuck.
You fucking miss him.
Kafka's excited jog slows to a walk. His hand, held high in a wave, falters.
Your lashes narrow angrily behind your face shield. The look pins him a few feet away, his expression softening with hurt. You don't say a word as you hike up your rigging harness and tighten the buckles.
You can't help but steal a glance, then another. And another.
He looks good. Really good. Strong. Handsome — but he was always those things. The uniform just makes it more apparent, doesn't it?
Your voice is like ice as you brush past him, electric saw in hand, ready to work.
"You look ridiculous in that outfit, by the way."
He doesn't. It suits him. But, that outfit is the reason he left you — and he can't really blame you for being bitter at all.
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For the bsb ask! All Might and a breeding kink (if it's cool) please and thank you.
TOSHINORI YAGI bites his own lip so hard he tastes blood.
He's panting, his hands on your hips, his head leaned back into the pillows. You're atop of him, your hands on his chest and your expression absolutely blissful. Toshinori can't stare, he can't. His eyes linger on the sight of his cock, at the sight of you taking him so well—
And you let out a proud little laugh when his fingers dig a bit deeper into the softness of your hips and he muffles a moan.
"C'mon, Toshi," your whisper between breaths, "You're close, aren't you?"
The teasing never gets easier. Not when you lean forward, shift your hips and continue your pace of up and down and up and down. Fuck, he has to fist one hand in the sheets to even keep his head on straight.
All he can do is nod dumbly — because articulation is not a skill he has at the given moment.
"It's okay," you whisper into his ear and Toshi wonders if this is payback for all the times he's done this very thing to you: goad you, tease you, drag you along with words, "Wouldn't it be nice to fill me up?"
Fuck, fuck, fuck — his hips stutter and you smother his begging moan with a kiss.
"Is th-that a yes?" you ask when you pull away, far enough that your mouth is mere centimeters from his own, "Is it? You want to breed me? Make me yours?"
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