Fukui take's note of his manager's friend, after an observant comment from Himuro, who seems to have her eye on him; only to find out this situation has a lot more fun points than it initially seemed to.
Word count: 3,278↳Requested by: Asculei
“I’mtelling you, man. She only comes to games when you’re playing. Shewatches you.”Himuro let his bag slide off of his shoulder and it landed on thefloor with a dull thud. “She’s cute and you’re so desperate to findyourself a girlfriend it’s almost pitiful,” he teased, laughingsoftly, more breath than actual sound passing over his lips. “Whatcould go wrong?”
That’show it started: a simple conversation with a teammate two weeksbefore graduation. That’s when the utilitarian part of Fukui’s brainfizzled out somewhere between perception and his proclivity todetail. His disposition, once resolute had turned vulnerable, bustedin the blinding lights and manipulated by winds of change. He was upin the air and tempting fate with nothing to fall back on but thesharp edge of rejection.
Fukuiwas chasing a dream that he was starting to believe had anything buta favorable outcome. Unless accomplishment led to affliction andprogress led to pain, he didn’t have much to lean on by way ofencouragement.
“Whatcould go wrong?” Fukui starts, rounding on Himuro after a practicematch that made Fukui miss playing with Yōsenfor the game, but equally grateful to be clear of Murasakibara’sdisplay of reproachful gainsay and childish antics. “I’ve beenturned down three times and the last time I tried to flirt with her,she laughedat me. Do you know what that does to a man’s machismo?”
Himuroarches an eyebrow and tips his head to the side, the bend of his lipscurving into a lopsided smile. “Nice to see you too,” is hisreply. He reaches for a bottle of water with one hand while wipingsweat from his brow with the other. “What’s this about machismo,now?” Himuro asks, visibly biting back a wave of laughter.
“Ihate you,” Fukui deadpans.
“Hey,I just made a suggestion,” Himuro says, pointing his water bottlein Fukui’s direction. “I can’t help that you suck at picking upgirls.”
“Ishould hit you,” Fukui counters, narrowing his eyes in Himuro’sdirection. “I do not suckat picking up girls, asshat. We can’t all be pretty boys like you.Some of us actually have to trytoget girls to notice us.”
Himurofrowns then, knitting his brows together in a show of consternation.“Look, Kensuke, I’m sorry. I was just giving you a hard time. Ididn’t mean–”
“Forgetit,” Fukui says, shrugging. “I don’t know what I was hoping toget out of coming here.” He turns and starts toward the exit whilemumbling: “I’ll see you at the graduation party.”
Himurofrowns as he watches Fukui go, his hands stuffed deep in his pocketsand his posture curved into a slouch.
“What’swrong with him?” Murasakibara asks, rifling through a plastic bagof snacks.
“Doyou actually care?” Himuro returns. He flashes Murasakibara awithering look and smiles.
Murasakibaralifts his shoulders into the barest of shrugs and frowns. “Notreally.” He rips open a package of nerunerunerunecandyand walks away without another word.
Himuro’sstill smiling as he watches him go. He shakes his head before takinga long swig of water. He drags the back of his hand over his lips andsets the bottle down on the bench beside him. “You’re lying,” hesays, quiet enough to keep the accusation to himself. Youcare, hethinks. Youalways have. Thenhe jogs in the direction of the locker room to wash the sweat andheat from his skin.
“What’sshe doing here?” Fukui asks. He leans back against the wall andcrosses his ankles. Then he lifts a can of soda to his lips, more outof nervous habit than actual thirst.
“Turnsout she’s friends with the manager. They were a little short on helpso she offered her assistance.” Himuro looks at Fukui and nudgeshim in the side. “You should go talk to her. It was nice of her tocome.”
“Nice?”Fukui says, the word sharp on his tongue. “She’s not nice.” Helooks at you and licks the sweet of sugar from his lips. “She’sevil,” he adds.
“She’snot evil,” Himuro laughs. “You’re just upset because she hasn’tgiven in to you yet.” Himuro tosses a hand up in a gesture ofgreeting when Okamura enters the room. “I’ve seen the way she looksat you—it’s obvious that she thinks you’re cute.You just have to do something about that personality of yours.”
“You’renot going to be so cuteifyou keep hassling me,” Fukui warns, slanting his eyes in Himuro’sdirection.
“Youthink I’m cute?” Himuro asks, quickly dodging the fist aimed at hisribs. “All right, I’ll stop.” He’s laughing when he moves backinto his former stance, and after a brief pause, he says: “I thinkyou’re too scared to confront her.”
“Ithought you were going to stop,” Fukui bites, grinding the wordsbetween his teeth.
“I’mnot trying to get at you. I’m serious this time. Girls like guys witha little bit of initiative. You need to prove yourself to her. Showher that you’re serious and that you’re not just another guy tryingto get in her pants.” Himuro claps Fukui on the shoulder. “I knowyou can do this.”
“Idon’t need a pep talk,” Fukui says, crushing the now-empty Coke canin his fist. He tosses it into a nearby trash can and steps away fromthe wall. “For the record” –he looks over his shoulder andmeets Himuro’s eye– “I dowant in her pants.”
“Justtakes things slow, Lothario,” Himuro warns, nodding in yourdirection. “Don’t scare her off.”
Fukuiwalks away, each step he takes bringing himself closer to whereyou’re standing. You lift your head, eyes going wide at the shock ofbeing face-to-face with someone so abruptly. “Fukui-kun,” yougasp, your voice catching on the sound of your breathing. “Didyou–”
“Don’ttalk,” Fukui says, his voice sharp and snapping over the thrum andpulse of the room. Your eyes go wide at the resonance of the command,and you’re trying to blink the situation into clarity as Fukui movesto stand within inches of your body. You try to collect yourself, butFukui’s hand is coming out to brace at the back of your neck and youdon’t have a chance to breathebefore his mouth comes into contact with yours.
“Isaid to take things slow. That’s why you needed the pep talk,”Himuro says, shaking his head while watching the events unfold acrossthe room.
It’sa quick drag of friction at first, his lips ghosting yours in atentative rush of contact. Then he’s lifting his hand to the back ofyour head and as you open your mouth at an attempt at speech, Fukuiis kissing you with the force of unhurried exploration. You can tastesyrup on his lips and the heat of his breath spills into your mouthas he pushes you back and up against the corner wall. His fingersflex against your hair as if to pin you to stillness, and you barelymanage to lift a hand to his chest before he’s twisting those fingersintoyour hair. He steps in closer and fits his hips against the shiveringreflex of your body. Your heart is hammering in your chest and you’resure that you can feel it in the shift of your lips when Fukuipresses close against you.
“Fukui,”you manage, but your lips are brushing his own and the hum ofvibration gets lost to the slow glide of Fukui’s tongue. He opens hismouth and you don’t know what to do other than part your lips insurrender as Fukui tightens his hold on you again. He lifts a hand toyour hip as if to steady you, but there’s nowhere you can go betweenthe weight of his body and the support of the wall behind you;however, you can’t help but focus on his hands, his grip steady andsure. Fukui pushes against you and works a knee between your own, theheat of his skin like bare friction against raw nerve endings. Youcurl your fingers into a fist against Fukui’s chest, desperate forair even before Fukui can pull away to catch the bottom line of yourmouth between his teeth.
“Whatare we doing?” you gasp, your breath hot against the spit-slick ofhis lips.
“Ithought that should be obvious,” Fukui says, dropping his hand tostroke over the back of your neck. “I’ve been thinking about doingthis with you for ages.”
“Ages?”The word rings surprise before it goes silent against the space ofFukui’s mouth. “I need to settle down, to get my head right.”
Fukuislides his hand down over the front of your shirt, the weight of histouch striking hot against the frantic pulse of your heart. “Areyou trying to tell me that this doesn’t feel right?”
Youhuff an exhale that you can’t afford given the lack of oxygen in yourlungs. “I don’t know how to answer that,” you reply, heatradiating from your lips to warm the swollen shape of Fukui’s mouth.
Fukuilowers his head to look at you directly and you notice how brillianthis eyes are, turned dark and blown wide; how his lashes dip eachtime he blinks, soft and unexpectedly long. “Not everything needsan answer, ____.” Fukui leans in again, bracing you between hisarms as he cages you back against the wall. The fabric of his shirtslides away from the waistband of his jeans, revealing a sliver oftoned, pale skin. You swallow with little effort and place your palmagainst the flat of his stomach. Fukui crushes his lips against yourmouth, making a sound at your lips that brings you forward againsthis body.
Fukuiarches his back and brings his leg up higher between your thighs. Thefriction pressing against you is quickly becoming too much, andyou’re panting for air over Fukui’s mouth as you try to steadyyourself against his hips. “Fukui–”
“Kensuke.”You can feel the thrum of the word spilling into your mouth. “Iwant you to call me Kensuke. I want to hearyou say my name,” he purrs. He lowers a hand to clutch at your hip,his fingers tightening to press hard against your skin. You archforward, your hips grinding against Fukui’s reflexively. He leans in,pressing the weight of his cheek against your own. “I want to dofilthy things to you,” Fukui whispers, his lips brushing the shellof your ear. The sound of his voice is enough to lay claim to yourbody, but when he rocks forward in a gesture of unstated dominance,you nearly offer up your independence entirely.
Fukuilowers the arm opposite to the one wrapping around your waist tobring you close. He trails his fingers over the contour of yourcheek, surely flushed with heat and visibly dark to Fukui’sappraisal. “I could close my hand over your mouth and take youright here. I could drop down to my knees and make you come so hardstanding will be a thing of the past.”
“Quiet,”you tell him. “We’re in a room full of people.” Your legs beginto shake at the observation, forgotten for the press of Fukui’s bodyand the way he’s manipulating your mouth. It feels dangerous but he’sgrinding his knee against the apex of your thighs and you can barelytug your thoughts into the present moment, much less pull away fromthe friction that sends static rocketing through your blood. You openyour mouth and inhale Fukui’s breath as he pushes the whole length ofhis body against you, the pressure as clear as the image forming intoclarity right before your eyes. You don’t know whether you should pinthe rush of desire building in your veins on shame or longing, but nomatter what it is, your composure is splintering, leaving you to pantand shake beneath Fukui’s hold on you.
Fora brief moment, you don’t care about being caught; you don’t careabout being seen if it means that Fukui is willing to give youwhatever you want. And right now, all that you want is his hands onyour body, the warmth of his breath against your skin, the taste ofhis tongue against the roof of your mouth, his fingers tangled inyour hair—but it’s too much to ask for, too much to be seen.It’s enough that Fukui is stripping you open, burning you with hiseyes of honeyed-brown to embers, exposing your soul in ways thatleave you vulnerable.
Fukui’slashes brush your cheek and you can hear him inhale a shudderingbreath before he draws back from your lips. “Just give me achance,” he says, his voice level as he leans forward to press hisforehead against your own. “I promise you that I won’t fuck thisup.”
Youfeel disappointment forming in the low of your belly as you fight tofill your lungs with enough air to speak. You feel like you’veskidded to a painful halt, knees bruising and skin raw—then comesthe fall, the truth of what he’s speaking turning your wings to wax.
“Areyou playing with me?” you ask, sounding overheated and small.
Fukuilaughs and takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Notin the way you think, baby.” He slides his opposite hand throughyour hair, then settles his palm against the nape of your neck. “I’lldo whatever you want. If it means taking things slow, then I’m game.Though, if I’m being honest, I’d love to take things fast.”
Youcatch your bottom lip between your teeth, then laugh. “You thinkthat teasing me like this is enough to win me over?” You tug at thehem of your shirt to pull it back into place, your eyes trained onthe swollen red of Fukui’s lips. “What do you want from me,Fu—Kensuke?”
“Mm,”Fukui moans, his eyes closing on the sound of his name forming intoopen air. “I want you.”He clears his throat then, an attempt to drive out the quiveringshake of heat on his voice. “I want to be yours and I want you tobe mine.” He pauses and lets the weight of rationale sink into yourblood like the heat in your veins. His gaze is sharp, cutting up toyour face to gauge your reaction. “I know that sounds a bit amissbut I want you so fucking bad.” He steps forward and fits his handsaround your hips roughly. “I’ll be an animal on your leash as longas I can have the blood on your lips when you kiss me goodbye.”
Youpause, trying to understand the shape of suggestion forming intoFukui’s words. Then: “What is that supposed to mean?” you ask,trying to conceal the humor rounding your tone.
“Idon’t know,” Fukui answers, exhaling a sharp breath. “I’m no goodat…” he waves a hand dismissively “…metaphors, or whatever.My point is, that as long as I have you, I’ll do my best to make youhappy.”
“You”–you pause for a huff of laughter– “you really missed the markon that one.”
Fukuibreathes a winded sigh and nods, stepping back to lower his hands tohis sides. “All right. I get it. You don’t want me.” He turns onhis heel to walk away, but you close your fingers on his arm beforehe can even put distance between you.
“Slowdown, Chimera. You’re breathing fire and I haven’t even given you ananswer,” you say.
Fukuiturns around and pins you in place with the weight of his gaze.“Chimera?”
“Ithought I’d try my hand at your poor excuse for a metaphor.Except…mine actually makes sense…forget it.” You shake yourhead as if to clear the mess of words from your mind. “My point isthat you’re always walking away before I can tell you how I feel.”
“Youmean, you’d actually be willing to give me a chance?” Fukui looksconcerned, like he’s walking a fine line and it’s threatening to snapat any given moment.
“I’vegot nothing to lose,” you answer, smiling and tipping your head tothe side.
“That’s…”Fukui chews on his bottom lip before he exhales a deep breath. “Idon’t really know what to say.” He smiles awkwardly and runs a handthrough his hair. “This doesn’t mean that you’re obligated to…youknow. I’ll save some space for you beneath my skin. Then, when you’reready, you can cut me open and I’ll let you in.”
Youfurrow your brow and part your lips, an agglomeration of wordsforming in the dark of your throat. “That’s nice…but also, kindof gross. Let’s just take things one step at a time, okay?”
“Surething.” Fukui drapes an arm around your shoulders and leads youthrough the center of the room.
“Itlooks like everything worked out with you guys,” Himuro says,flashing you a smile, then turning his dark gaze to Fukui. “Here’sto hoping things turn out for you.” Himuro lifts a glass into theair and pats Fukui’s chest once, reassuringly, before joining thethrong of graduates gathered in the kitchen.
“Ido have one stipulation,” you say, turning to look Fukui in theeye. “You know, if we want to make this work.”
“What’sthat?” Fukui asks, then presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“Layoff the metaphors when you’re with me, okay?”
Fukuilaughs and hugs you closer to his side. “I think I can handlethat,” he says, smiling. Then: “So, how about we ditch this placeand go get something realto eat?”
“Soundsgood to me,” you answer. “But you’re paying, as punishment forthe way you teased me tonight.”
“Isthat so?” Fukui guides you outside and into the crisp night air. “Iwas planning on handling the bill, but I don’t think that yourreasoning is justifiable considering I didn’t have a chance tofinish.”
“Wewere in a room full ofpeople. You might be into that sort of thing, but I'm–”
Fukuiturns you in his arms and fits his lips to yours in a way that sendsa shiver down the whole length of your spine. He lets you taste theheat of his tongue before he retreats, taking a breath to steadyhimself. “I think I’ll like you even better with just me and no oneelse.”
“Why’sthat?” you ask, struggling to force movement upon your lips.
“BecauseI’m going to devour you,” Fukui tells you, his hand sliding downthe fabric of your shirt to settle at the small of your back.
Yousmile and let the weight of his hand burn through you. It feels nice,solid and reaffirming, and you think that this might actually work.
Youcame planning for a party, but you were never prepared for this. Asyou walk away from the noise and the rhythmic pulse of music you canonly wonder what the future has in store for you.
Maybe I shouldn't work Fridays? Both of the above meals were provided. Country ham biscuits for breakfast and pizza and salad for lunch. Definitely going have to work extra had here in a few minutes. I feel so guilty lol
so i was on the bus earlier, and i was wearing a leather jacket and jeans and boots. thing is, its summer in uk and is half as hot as the sun. so i walk to a seat and the guy opposite me has a cold beer and is wearing nothing but shoes and shorts. topless. fucking sweating. and he was staring me down for like a whole minute. i cant blame him. i know he was thinking i was crazy. hes right
Engmates provides an opportunity to their students to embark in the public, converse with them, and thus remove their own public speaking fear. An outdoor activity conducted in the heart…
Engmates provides an opportunity to their students to embark in the public, converse with them, and thus remove their own public speaking fear.
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So...I had to go out today. I was at a place where I was waiting for my number to be called. What normally would have taken about thirty minutes of waiting turned into three hours of waiting. Because wouldn’t you know...I didn’t hear the first time they called my number. Since I didn’t hear when they called my number, they assumed I wasn’t there and went on to the next person, which bumped me to the last spot. My butt grew numb, my stomach was growling, and I really needed a smoke (which I REALLY REALLY want to quit btw)
I ended up having to wait until they called everyone else’s number before mine would be called again.
I only found this out because after waiting two hours and wondering what was taking so long, I finally asked the guy at the front desk about it. He confirmed that I’d missed my number. I told him I couldn’t hear the numbers being called, but it still took another hour to get to me.
Ah, the perils of public interaction as a d/Deaf/HoH citizen.
In my experience...the world caters only to the hearing. Fuck the rest of us.
So I have spent a good deal of time scrolling through blog after blog seeking prompts for short stories/drabbles, poetry, and for digital graphic art work. These are being used to help me when the well runs dry while trying to get things up to Patreon. (I manged to keep on task this week partially, I impressed myself, just have to get one more thing posted). So here's the interactive part:
Where do you go for inspiration? Do you have a special if it site or sites? A specific blog or artist or writer?
And for those who post to Patreon, do you share your work on other sites (ie DeviantArt, instagram, facebook)? If you do, how long do you wait after posting to Patreon for paying subscribers do you release your work to the public on those other hosting sites?
