scoutings

[scoutings]

PERMISSION NOT INCLUDED ꩜.ᐟ

cw: brother's bsf kuroo, sneaky lînk?, your brother will kill him if he finds out, lots of makeout, semi-public, fingering, p in v, they nearly get caught (all the characters are 18+)

“don’t even think about flirting with my sister.”

your brother’s voice cuts sharp the second kuroo steps through the door, all lean muscle and that infuriating smirk. kuroo laughs, rough and dismissive, like it’s the dumbest thing he’s heard all week.

“why the hell would i flirt with your sister? she’s probably, what—twelve?”

he’s cocky, so sure of himself. until you walk in.

you’re not twelve. you’re a grown ass young woman, all soft curves and glossy lips, wearing a sundress that clings to every inch of you like a second skin. your eyes meet his, and something dangerous sparks. kuroo’s smirk falters.

“oh,” he mutters, voice low. “shit.”

he tries to keep his distance. tries to be good. but kuroo’s never been subtle.

he’s always lingering. watching you laugh, your head tilting in a way that makes his cock twitch. his eyes drag over your shorts riding up, your shirt hugging your tits when you lean. it’s a slow burn, heat pooling in his gut until it’s unbearable.

you notice. you always do.

you catch him staring when you suck juice off your thumb, his jaw ticking. catch his fists clenching when you stretch, your tank top teasing a glimpse of skin. catch the way his voice drops when you say kuroo-san like it’s a fucking spell.

he’s your brother’s best friend. loyal, dependable kuroo tetsurō. but he’s a man, and you’re a temptation he can’t ignore.

it’s late, past midnight. your brother’s passed out upstairs, the house dead quiet except for the fridge’s hum. you’re in the kitchen, barefoot, in a loose t-shirt and tiny sleep shorts, digging for a snack. the fridge light spills across the floor, casting shadows.

kuroo appears in the doorway, shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips, cock already half-hard against the fabric. his hair’s a mess, like he’s been tossing in bed, thinking of you. his eyes rake over you, dark and hungry.

“couldn’t sleep?” you tease, voice soft, knowing exactly what you’re doing.

he steps closer, the doorframe creaking. “something like that.”

you lean against the counter, your shirt riding up, showing the curve of your hip. his gaze locks there, shameless.

“you’re staring,” you murmur, echoing that hallway moment weeks ago.

he smirks, closing the distance, his thigh brushing yours. “can you blame me?”

your breath catches. the air crackles, thick with want. his hand grazes your arm, and you feel the heat of him, the hard line of his cock pressing against you through his pants. you tilt your head up, lips parting, and his eyes fix on your mouth.

“he’ll kill you,” you whisper.

“worth it.”

his mouth crashes into yours, hot and desperate, tasting like sin. you kiss him back, fierce, hands tugging his hair, pulling him closer. his tongue teases yours, and you moan into his mouth, the sound making his cock throb. he groans, gripping your hips, grinding against you.

he lifts you onto the counter, the cold granite biting your thighs. your legs spread, and he steps between them, his cock pressing against your cunt through your shorts. you’re already soaked, and he can probably feel it.

“fuck,” he mutters, kissing you again, sloppy and hungry.

his hands slide under your shirt, rough palms grazing your skin, thumbs brushing your nipples. you arch into him, gasping as he tugs your shirt up, exposing your tits. his mouth moves to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks, and you whimper, tilting your head for more.

his fingers hook into your shorts, yanking them down with your panties. they hit the floor, and you’re bare, your cunt glistening under the dim light. he stares, licking his lips like he’s starving.

“god, your pussy’s fucking perfect,” he groans, voice wrecked.

his hand slides between your thighs, fingers finding your slick heat. you gasp when he teases your clit, circling slowly, watching your face as you bite your lip to keep quiet. the house is silent, the risk of getting caught making your pulse race, but it only makes you wetter.

“quiet, baby,” he murmurs, lips at your ear. “don’t want him hearing you take my fingers, do we?”

you shake your head, but it’s hard to stay silent when he slides two fingers into your cunt, curling them just right. your hips buck, and he pins you with his free hand, keeping you still as he fucks you with his fingers, slow and deep. the wet sound is filthy, and you’re dripping, coating his hand.

“kuroo-san!,” you whimper, barely a sound, and he smirks, loving how you say his name.

“fuck, i love that,” he says, kissing you to swallow your moans.

his fingers move faster, thumb rubbing your clit, and you’re close, so close, nails digging into his shoulders. the thrill of your brother upstairs, the creak of the counter, it’s all too much. when you cum, it’s with a choked gasp, your pussy clenching around his fingers, soaking them.

he doesn’t let you catch your breath. he’s tugging his sweatpants down, freeing his cock—thick, hard, the tip already leaking. your eyes widen, and your mouth waters, but there’s no time. he grips your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter, your legs wrapping around him.

“you sure?” he asks, voice strained, cock brushing your cunt.

you nod, desperate, and he doesn’t wait. he pushes into you, slow and thick, stretching your cunt in a way that makes you gasp. he’s big, splitting you open, but the burn feels so fucking good. he stills, letting you adjust, his forehead against yours, both of you panting.

“fuck, your pussy’s so tight,” he groans, voice raw.

you shift, urging him to move, and he does, pulling back to thrust deeper. the counter creaks, but you don’t care. his cock fills you, hitting every spot that makes you see stars. he fucks you steady, hard, his hands bruising your hips. you bite his shoulder to muffle your moans, and he hisses, slamming into you harder.

“you feel so fucking good,” he pants, lips grazing your neck. “been dreaming of this cunt for a while.”

you clench around his cock, and he groans, pace faltering. he lifts your leg over his shoulder, the angle letting him sink deeper, his cock dragging against that spot inside you that makes you tremble. you’re close again, the pressure building fast, your cunt gripping him.

“cum for me,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “let me feel this pussy squeeze my cock.”

his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles, and you shatter, cumming hard, your cunt pulsing around his cock. you bite your lip to keep from screaming, and he fucks you through it, thrusts growing sloppy. when you tighten around him, he groans, low and wrecked, and cums deep inside you, filling your cunt with heat.

you’re both still, panting, his cock still buried in you. then, a creak from upstairs makes you freeze. your eyes widen, and kuroo pulls out fast, your mixed cum dripping down your thighs. you scramble for your clothes, heart pounding, as he yanks his sweatpants up.

“shit, shit, shit,” you whisper, pulling your shorts on, cum still slick between your legs.

he’s grinning, the bastard, handing you your shirt and stealing a quick kiss. footsteps hit the stairs, and you dive for a water bottle, trying to look normal. your brother stumbles in, half-asleep.

“what the hell are you two doing up?” he mumbles.

“just grabbing a snack,” you say, voice shaky.

kuroo leans against the counter, smirking like he didn’t just fuck you raw. “couldn’t sleep.”

your brother grunts, grabbing water and shuffling off. the second he’s gone, kuroo’s eyes lock on yours, dark and promising.

“next time,” he whispers, “we’re locking the fucking door.”

you shiver, knowing you’re already hooked.

[scoutings]

you and your theme are the absolute cutest :)

phy dont make me cry 🥺 ily

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men who blush

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Spits on you

Hey

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hi scout!!! hru ^_^

AHHH!!! HI MISU!! i've been kind of irritated with my new work schedule, it's so exhausting :( what about you

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SCOUT I MESS WITH THIS THEME VERY HEAVILY ILL HAVW YOU KNOW

NELL ILL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I LOVE U!!!

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Bothersome beast, comforting friend

[scoutings]

⁀➷ UNSAID | K. BAKUGOU

pairing. bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre. collage au, aged up au, angst w/ a happy ending

warnings. cussing, longing, jealousy, aggression

1.3K | jealousy is a disease and bakugou katsuki is riddled with it.

back | masterlist | next

When you reached his place, you knocked, only for the door to swing open almost immediately, revealing a tense Bakugou standing there, looking more agitated than usual.

"Let's make this quick," you stated, stepping inside cautiously.

He didn’t answer right away, shutting the door behind you with more force than necessary. The loud bang echoed in the entryway. You watched him carefully, noting the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched at his sides.

"You and that extra done?"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised that he was bringing it up so bluntly. "We were never really dating, but yeah, I guess we are." You shrugged. "Why?"

His red eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles in his forearms taut like he was holding something back. "Never really dating?" he echoed, voice dripping with disbelief. "You were all over that guy, calling him cute, acting like he was something special."

You furrowed your brows, confused. Bakugou was so quick in acting like he didn't care. He practically abandoned you and this was the first thing he wanted to bring up? Un-fucking-believable.

"Not to be that girl, but why do you care?" you sighed, the faint ache in the back of your head fueling your words. "You ignore me for weeks, act all weird, and then suddenly you want to talk?"

Bakugou’s jaw tightened at your anger, and you saw a flicker of something dangerous cross his face. His arms dropped to his sides, fingers twitching like he wanted to do something but ultimetly decided against it. Instead, he stepped closer. His mouth pressed into a deep scowl, his presence looming over you like a storm waiting to break.

"I’m being weird?" he snapped, voice low and sharp, both warning and desperate. "You think I haven’t noticed you acting like everything’s fine when you’re hanging around that fucking loser?" His red eyes bored into yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart shake in its cage.

"What the fuck are you talking about? I can hang out with whoever I want, Katsuki. Let me say again that you haven't spoken to me in two weeks—"

"It pisses me off!" he shouted, stepping even closer, his breath fanning against your face. He caged you between his body and the wall. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his scent familiar and overwhelming.

His eyes were blazing, fury barely contained, and something more swirling behind them. "Seeing you with some guy, calling him cute and shit. Hanging off his every. Fucking. Word."

Your eyes widened, and for the first time, you didn’t know what to say. The room felt like it was closing in, the air thick with tension. Bakugou’s words hung in the space between you, raw and unfiltered, like he had finally let something slip out.

"You think I don’t care?" he scoffed, his voice dropping lower, rougher. "That I haven’t been paying attention? You just don’t get it."

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your throat tight as his words sank in, but you were just as angry as you were confused. If this man thought he could barge back into your life without so much as a clear explanation, he was dead wrong.

"Use your words," you said quietly, not backing down even though your voice wavered slightly. "Because all I saw was you ignoring me and then getting mad when I tried to fix it."

His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite read— regret, frustration, maybe even fear— but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"I haven’t been ignoring you," he muttered, his voice strained now. "I’ve been trying to... I don’t know, hold back?"

"What— Hold back?" you shot, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Katsuki, if you don’t stop being so vague, I’m—"

Before you could finish, his hands shot out, seizing your waist with a force that sent a jolt through your body. In an instant, Bakugou’s lips were on yours— hard, urgent, like he’d been holding this in for far too long.

You gasped, startled by the intensity, but your body responded instinctively, your hands clutching at his shirt, desperately seeking some anchor in the storm of his affection. His kiss was rough, almost punishing. His mouth unyielding against yours, as though he was pouring all of his pent-up frustration and unspoken words into this one moment. He moved with a hunger that set your skin on fire, like if he stopped, you’d slip away.

He groaned low in his throat, tilting your head back and demanding more access, deepening the kiss with a ferocity that left you breathless. His grip tightened around your waist, fingers digging into your skin, pulling you impossibly closer.

Bakugou kissed you like a man starved, his desperation palpable in the way his lips moved against yours. It felt like he was trying to memorize the taste of you, the way you fit against him. There was no hesitation, no restraint— just pure, burning need.

When he finally tore his mouth away, both of you were gasping for air, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your pounding heart. He looked away, suddenly shy, a complete 180 from the man who had just made your knees weak seconds ago. It was a sight you thought you’d cherish forever.

His hot breath fanned over your face, shaking and uneven, but he didn’t let go. His fingers were still digging into your hips like he couldn’t bear to lose contact, like he needed to make sure you were still there.

“I care,” he muttered, voice thick with emotion, low and guttural like he was admitting something he could barely stand to say aloud. His fingers trailed along your hip, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"I care too fucking much, and it pisses me off that I can’t stop thinking about it. So yeah, I’ve been distant, and yeah, I’ve been avoiding you, but that’s because I don’t know what the hell to do with this." His voice cracked slightly, the tension in his words making your heart race even faster. He didn’t have the nerve to look up at you yet, not when you hadn’t said a single thing, and it was killing him.

"So fucking sue me for trying to figure this shit out."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing to keep up with everything he was saying. His confession was raw, vulnerable in a way you had never seen from him before. He wasn’t just angry— he was scared. Scared of what he felt, scared of losing control, scared of what you meant to him.

"Katsuki..." you started, your voice soft, but he cut you off with a gruttal sigh. He looked up, red eyes boring into your own for the first time, and they were pleading, desperate.

"Don’t say anything," he muttered. "If you’re gonna say some pity shit, don’t wanna hear it."

You stared at him for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, and then, without thinking, you closed the distance between you again, your lips meeting his in another heated kiss. This time, it was slower, deeper, but still filled with that same urgency, that same need. His hands slid from your waist to your back, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the tension in his body melt away.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads still pressed together. Bakugou’s grip on you loosened, but he didn’t let go entirely, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made your chest flutter.

"Next time," he muttered, his voice low and gruff, "don’t go running around with some fucking guy."

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, even though your heart was still racing. "Next time, don’t wait so long to tell me you care."

His eyes flickered with something soft for just a moment, but then he huffed, looking away with a scowl. "Shut up."

[scoutings]

CLOSE ⋆˚࿔ IWAIZUMI HAJIME

tags/warnings: smau, post timeskip, roommates to lovers, very suggestive, a lot of flirting, language, mdni

an: i got high and wrote this listening to lipgloss by charli xcx on a loop i dont remember what i wrote and i dont know if it makes sense and i really dgaf lmafo anyways ily also funny story i went 'i havent written for iwa in forever its been wayyy too long' and the literal last thing i wrote was about iwa lmafo i just love him so bad

general taglist: @ottocre @sodaneko @dambxtch @angee444 @kameyyy @A-girl-can’t-decide-on-a-name @kodzu-ken @girlhooddiaries @boooolame @thatonecroc @nnnyxie @eclecticeggknightpsychic @manhattanstrawberry @evilari111 @nicerthanu @localgaytrainwreck @alcyneus @megapteraurelia @kiyokostan @jadeoru @sexylexy12 @kr1nqu @loveyislost

[scoutings]

know my name, know my face.

megumi is sick and tired of you being so formal. he is silent in his feelings until one day, when something as simple as a little shop and your eagerness about a keychain tips him over.

just a really silly fluffy fic. canon verse. was supposed to be a drabble but I yapped too much so I formatted. megumi yearns and longs and broods and- you get it. a mix between a drabble and a short fic kill me. no beta we die like everyone in the jjkverse. word count of 1046.

masterlist

although he loathe to admit how deeply he is being affected by this whole situation, the truth is that megumi is getting fed up with you.

not you, per se, but the way you seem to view him. he feels more distant to you than the others; you seem more personal with them, more friendly. even though you choose to spend more time with him than anyone else and speak to him more fondly and overall express more affection for him, he feels out of place. when you call upon the other first years, his name rolls off your tongue differently. it leaves your lips akin to that of a stranger.

you see, there is yuji and nobara and then there is fushiguro.

(he recalls the early days of your friendship with the group. your voice had been so sugary, lined with honey as you asked “is it okay if I call you yuji?” and, “you don’t mind nobara, right?” …you had not even asked him. he had looked straight ahead and pretended to feel less invisible.)

it meets his ears and makes him wince internally every time. it is soft and sweet as it always is, but that does not change the facts. you refer to him as a classmate rather than a companion. he wants to grab you by your shoulders and make you repeat the syllables of his first name until it is engraved in your mind and vocals alike — his ears too. maybe, if he were feeling really desperate, he would fall to his knees. however, he does neither. he simply gives a nod and lets the sound ring through him, lets the echo of it beat against his insides and leave welts big enough to have him crumpling to the ground. he greets you back like he is neutral, keeps his knees steady. he calls you by your last name also.

perhaps he is being dramatic. perhaps he is irked by it more than he should be, but he cannot help himself. what is it about him that is so alien? he had always been different from other people, but jeez.

he is silent in his brooding, quiet in his troubled inquiries. they fester in his mind and do not pollute the air. until one day, his mouth betrays him.

your feet have the gravel crunching beneath you as you bound up to him, a smile on your face. the others were not in sight—the three of you had gone off into another part of the shop whilst he lingered in a different isle. you had returned to him alone. it made him feel seen, even as he schooled his expression to indifference.

you hold a keychain out to him. “look, fushiguro! isn’t this cute?”

the warmth in him flickers, fading into a dull ember. he gives a short nod, hoping you would not notice the way the corner of his lips tugged downward. a long, silent exhale leaves his nose, eyes focused a little too intently on the trinket than necessary.

you pause, because you noticed, as you always did. you saw him. but unfortunately, you only saw fushiguro.

“fushiguro?” you questioned tentatively.

that was the final straw; the words escaping him before he could will them away, “why do you do that?”

a pause. the meaning of the cryptic statement is somewhat lost on you, he quickly realized. the tips of his ears heat up as he continues, “speak to everyone so personally except for me. we aren’t strangers, you know.”

tilting your head, your brows furrow, not because you are still confused but because it was so ironic. not one person at jujutsu high called him by his first name save for gojo, who was met with the meanest scowl every single time. you would much rather be left out of his wrath, therefore did not bother pushing him for it. your eyes flicker oddly for a moment and he is left to drown in the silence.

“everyone calls you fushiguro.”

he averts his eyes completely. the tips of his ears are turning pink, but you can only see if you look very closely. “what makes you think you’re just a part of everyone?”

“well, when we met. you stared at me deadpan and introduced yourself with it’s fushiguro, point blank.”

his cheeks warm further. he scowls, both because of your horrible impression of him and because of the recollection. he did do that, but… that was different. that was a long time ago. that was before you had become so close to his heart that you could touch it, feel it beat against your palm and speak his first name in morse code for you. now is now.

“that was different.”

“so… you want me to call you megumi?”

the sound of his first name hits him like a punch to the gut. his heart speeds up, fingers twitching at his sides. finally, he thinks. after multiple months and a bit of mild mortification, you had done it. his soul eases and sinks contently back into his bones. he shrugs, though, despite his entire conscious screaming yes. “do whatever you want. I was just asking.”

you chuckle. he is a bit of a terrible liar when it comes to these things, you have learned. you choose to humour him. “okay. i’ll call you megumi, then.”

he nods. silence falls again, but it is different this time. easy. transparent. it does not settle thickly and add to the weight on his shoulders, instead lifting it, if even a little. then, “I don’t sound like that, by the way.” his voice is a low grumble.

“you totally do, don’t lie.”

“shut up.”

“okay, whatever, megumi.”

despite himself, he smiles. he would let you torment him so long as you eased the sting with the soothing balm that was his name on your lips. hell, you could curse his entire existence and he would forgive you if it was followed by the gentle whisper of megumi against the shell of his ear. it is a scary thought, but he accepts it with surprising ease.

as long as you called out to him like he was a little more than a stranger, he was anything to you. he was yours.

tags: @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniyaa @kashee-h @fiannee @bubybubsters @lizbix @mayyhaps @adoresia @xianji @cinnamxnangel @sickpatientt @megapteraurelia @scoutings @anotherwriternamedclara @spookypeacesandwich @titititititixo @wizzzierr @jadeyaps @whoevenisjessica @nishislcve @rustymind @grndz3r000

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Old pictures

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IWAIZUMI IS SO SUBLIME CORE!!! IDC!!!

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dating kuroo means enduring the most raging baby fever (his) every mother’s day he until he finally knocks you up

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i sometimes indulge in sweaty sex smutty fics and then just stare at my screen because i'd immediately start sobbing if that happened to me

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co-worker admitted he hasn't showered in 16 days i'd be disgusted but i'm more concerned on how he DOESN'T smell bad at all??

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of course - h. iwaizumi

content: iwaizumi (27) athletic trainer x fem!reader, meet-cute, grumpy!iwa (at first), iwaizumi really fucking likes burritos, FLUFF, post-timeskip - divider indicates pov switch between iwa & reader

word count: 1.3k note: first time posting my writing...gulps...enjoy

part 1 of the meet-cute series!!

iwaizumi hajime hated the airport.

he hated the security, he hated the noise, and most of all, he hated the crowds.

he understood that the airport brought stress on everyone, not just him, especially as he was currently running late to his gate—despite the fact that his flight didn't leave for another hour and a half. he understood why there were so many people here right now, probably because the olympics were starting soon. what he didn't understand, though, was why some people had to be so damn thoughtless.

it was laughable the number of times that someone had either stopped right in front of him to go on their phone, nearly spilled coffee on him as they rushed by, or simply shoved him out of the way to get wherever they were going.

for a few years now, he had genuinely suspected that the universe had some sort of vendetta against him. something always went wrong when he was at the airport, as if he were a magnet that attracted delayed flights and stolen plane seats.

his suspicion only grew when someone collided with him right as he was leaving an airport breakfast shop, knocking his suitcase and recently bought burrito to the ground.

of course.

hajime nearly laughed as he glanced at the splattered remains of his breakfast littering the floor, despite not finding it funny at all.

"oh my god, i am SO sorry!"

looking up from his mangled breakfast, he found you staring at him with wide eyes and an apologetic expression. he would have thought you were pretty if you hadn't just slaughtered his burrito.

sighing, he glanced once more at the sight before looking back to you. "It's fine, don't worry about it—"

"please, let me buy you another one! that was completely my fault, it's the least i could do." you stepped forward, already reaching for his suitcase and walking back toward the store before he had time to protest.

he huffed out a breath, causing you to look back over your shoulder with a stubborn smile. "come on, it'll take, like, two minutes. consider it my karmic punishment."

hajime didn't have time for this. maybe any other day when he wasn't at his own personal hell and was in a better mood, but he was already running late for his flight and didn't need time to worry about a stubborn girl risking him missing it.

"no," he said, grabbing his suitcase back from you. "i said its fine. thanks." and with that, he turned on his heel to leave, ignoring your complaints.

part of him felt a little bad for dismissing you so quickly, but guilt could wait. he was already pretty pissed off, and would rather not awkwardly wait in line with a stranger while his replacement breakfast was made.

fortunately, with an hour seconds to spare, hajime forgot all about that little mishap as he approached the attendant desk. unfortunately, he barely even got a word out before he was met with the words that he probably should have been expecting:

"your flight's been delayed, sir."

of course.

he didn't even respond to the attendant, just let out a sharp breath before turning around, only to be met with your face.

he blinked, and it took everything in him not to lose it. he knew it wasn't your fault that the airport and everyone inside it seemingly hated him, but he couldn't help but be a little weirded out considering you followed him all the way to his gate. "you're—"

"—also on this flight." you cut in, raising your ticket. "not stalking you, promise."

again, he blinked. and blinked a second time. then said, mostly to himself,

"of course."

he wasn't sure whether he had given up at that point or just really wanted that damn burrito, but when you shot him a sly grin and said, "so, about that breakfast..." he found himself grumbling before following you back to the shop.

you watched him scarf down that burrito like a man starved.

"...you must really like burritos, huh?"

his eyes flicked up to yours, and he swallowed the rest of his bite before finally setting it down for a second. "mhm."

since you two got to the breakfast store, you had only made small talk before sitting down at a little table in the corner. during that time, you learned that his name was iwaizumi, he was an athletic trainer, and that, apparently, he thought being anything less than an hour early to board was cutting it close.

"oh, so you're that type of person," you teased. "the 'needs to arrive two hours before boarding' type."

he scoffed, and you looked over to find his eyes already on yours. you took this moment to really look him over since you had bumped into him earlier. he had tanned skin, green eyes, and caught his muscles flexing as he reached over to his drink. he was actually rather good-looking, a realization that made your brain short-circuit for a moment.

"it's called being prepared," he said, giving you a flat look. "maybe if you were like me, you wouldn't be here with three dollars less to your name for a replacement breakfast."

"i promise i don't make a habit of assaulting people's meals," you laughed. "...but, if i hadn't, i wouldn't be sitting here across from a cute guy with a burrito obsession."

he stared at you for a second before looking away with a smile, and you swear you could see a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. for someone who looked like he could bench-press twice your weight, he sure blushed easily.

you still felt really bad about the earlier incident, but he seemed fine now. in fact, as he finished up his burrito, his mood had improved a lot. he was more talkative while the two of you waited for the flight time to arrive, and even offered to help you hold your carry-on while both of you walked back over to the gate.

"you know, you scared me," you joked. "i thought i had horrible game. that was the first time a man has rejected my offer to buy him food. guess you were just hangry, though."

"yeah, well, i wasn't exactly thrilled when my freshly-bought breakfast got ruined. i really wanted that burrito," he faux huffed, the corners of his mouth twitching.

you rolled your eyes as he brought up the incident once again and replied with a laugh, "of course you'd say that. you have a problem, you know."

and, as you boarded the plane, you realized you were smiling to yourself a little too hard. each time you both traded jabs, you'd find him looking away from you a bit too quickly when you made eye contact. he was actually super sweet, and he even walked you all the way to your seat.

or so you thought.

when you sat down at the window, you turned to him only to see his brows furrowing in confusion before lifting his ticket and examining it as if he was double-checking something. and, when the realization dawned on you two, neither of you could help but smile.

of course.

the flight wasn't anything to write home about. hajime slept most of the time while you watched something on your phone.

although he hated plane rides just as much as the airport itself, he didn't mind this one so much. not when the cramped seats forced your thigh to press up against his, flustering him every time the plane bumped and you leaned closer to him without noticing.

maybe he was getting soft, but when the plane finally landed and he left the airport with a new number saved on his phone, he came to one conclusion:

iwaizumi hajime didn't hate the airport so much anymore.

a/n: tbh he would probably take like a private flight or something but he didn’t because i said so div creds bernardsbendystraws & saradika-graphics

[scoutings]

kuroo being a nerd while making you squirt for the first time

kuroo lays with his cheek on your thigh, his fingers twirling the hem of your shorts. he kisses your thigh, “baby…” he says softly.

you look down, “hm?” you put down your book. he pouts up at you, “i learned how to make you squirt while fingering you.”

you laugh, “what?” he nods. “i seen it! look!” he grabs his phone and opens twitter. he shoves his phone in your face, showing you a video.

you look at him, “seriously, kuroo?” he lays his head higher, on your stomach. “yes! i wanna try!” he whines. you put your book on the nightstand.

“fine.” he says a little yay! before removing your shorts. he’s fingered you before… just never made you squirt from fingering.

he kisses your panties, “remember when i ate you out… through your panties?” he asks. you cover your face, “don’t remind me.” he smiles, “you were super overstimulated… it’s because of the pressure and tension of—“

“baby..” you stop him. he nods, “sorry.” his fingers carefully remove your panties. he kisses your clit instantly.

you gasp, “kuroo…” you say softly. you look down at him, your head on your shoulder. he stares up at you as his tongue flicks on your bud.

“ready?” he asks. you nod, “mhm.”

he sucks on your clit as his slender fingers enter you. you moan softly, biting your bottom lip. he hums, “good… good girl. i got you.”

your head falls onto the soft pillow, “i’m gonna start now, kay?” he says. you nod again, “o-okay…” his fingers pump in and out of you.

your wetness makes a squelching noise, “oh fuck…” you whimper. he continues to finger you as his lips wrap around your clit.

“i feel you… i feel you squeezing my fingers. you close?” he asks. you moan, “yes… yes…” he sits up more, his large warm hand pressing against your stomach.

“does this hurt?” he looks at you. you open your eyes again, “no, baby…” you reassure him. “tell me when i find it.”

his hand presses harder… and harder until you gasp and tremble, “oh fuck— kuroo.. baby— right there!” you moan loudly. he smiles, “right there?” you nod frantically.

he spits on your cunt as he leans back down, his hand still pressured against your stomach. his tongue attaches back to your clit.

you tremble and moan repeatedly, “f-fuck! it feels like i’m about to pee—“ you throw your head back. he devours you, “i know… it says that squirting feels like you’re supposed to be. even though i would be fine with you peeing in my mouth—“

“shut up… shut up, kuroo,” you whine as your fingers grip his hair. “baby—“ you breath heavily as your juices cover his face. he continues to pleasure you as your high goes down. he gets up, slapping your cunt.

“good fucking girl, baby! you did so good!” he smiles. you look at him. his spiky black hair now messy and covering one of his eyes. he looks down at your sheets, “made a mess but it was worth it, right?” he kisses your cheek.

you lay down, shy and tired.