KNEW BETTER E42!miles X Fem!reader

KNEW BETTER — e42!miles x fem!reader

SUMMARY. the alluring pull of a stranger entices you to make a risky decision all too familiar to your last WORD COUNT. 3,754 CONTENTS. miles and reader are in their late teens for realistic purposes, language, brief mention of a kiss, my attempt at an adequate plot and characterizations that actually have substance SONG INSPO. “knew better/forever boy” by ariana grande AUTHOR’S NOTE. i currently have no plans to take this further but inspiration struck and i had to write it lolll

How did you end up here?

Sticking out like a sore thumb on the roof top of a family party that definitely wasn’t yours, though they’d started to feel like it in the last few months. It’s not like your family would be mature enough to come together, put their pride aside for five minutes, and get along the way these people were. And after your parents’ separation became official earlier this year, negotiation was way out of the question. This distraction from the chaos you left back home was more than welcomed.

Your friend’s hand was starting to pale from how hard you were clutching onto it, yet you didn’t notice. The music was loud and a little upbeat for your taste, but you slightly bobbed your head to it anyway, a mindless thing you found yourself doing regardless of whether you could understand the lyrics to the song or not. There's no way you’d be caught dead at a party looking as if you didn’t have at least an ounce of rhythm.

Noticing your nerves, as well as the growing ache of her fingers, your friend Camila turned her head to the side, her silky, chestnut brown tresses flowing over her shoulder when she shouted over the bass of the speakers.

“Don’t be nervous! They’re all real nice, I promise!”

"Camila—" barely hearing what she said, you stopped for a second to give a sweet smile to an older lady who passed you, then softly tugged her arm to get her attention. “Can’t we just, stay in that cute little corner over there with the—“ you paused. “What are those— enchiladas?”

“Empanadas.” She corrected with a lighthearted eyeroll, her Queen’s accent heavy on her tongue. “And no way! I want you to meet everyone.”

"Everyone—wait what?” Your eyes bulged. You probably resembled a looney-tunes character at the moment. “I thought I’d officially met everyone last month at the uhh— the fuckin—“ You made a wafting motion with your hands, as if it’d prompt your brain to get your thoughts out as quickly as the two of you were walking. “The Heritage Month BBQ, thingy?”

This was the first time the doe-eyed girl had stopped to look at you throughout your walk through the venue—like, actually look at you—and of course it was only to laugh at your ridiculous observation. She nearly doubled over.

“Ha!- Yeah, nah. That was a funny joke though.” she giggled. “That was family family. This is family and family friends. So basically, more family. You know that!”

Oh yeah. Makes complete sense. Family didn’t even sound like a word anymore at this point, you thought to yourself as she pulled the both of you to a stop at the drink table.

You and Camila had been friends ever since the second grade. The girl had the prettiest hazel eyes and the longest, shiniest hair you'd ever seen. Since time she’s liked to refer to herself as the “Puerto Rican-Filipina Rapunzel", and though the term she’d come up with was a bit of a mouthful, you’d be lying if you tried to disagree.

She’d waltzed up to your secluded spot at indoor recess in Mrs. Walter’s class, demanded the two of you be friends, and even gave you a pink Hello Kitty sticker to accompany her proposition.

And seeing as you couldn’t remember much before that, you really couldn’t remember a time when Camila wasn’t in your life, either. Protecting you from anyone who might have anything to say about her bestfriend, and always quick to step in front of you and get in someone’s face about it, even if the someone in question was a burly 6’3 football player who had to crane his neck to look down at who was cursing him out a mile a minute.

If people saw Camila, they saw you, too. That’s just how the two of you rolled. And yeah, you’d been to more than a few family parties, slapped on some low-waisted, bejeweled miss-me jeans and boots to fit in with the dress code, and attended a few bailes even though you couldn’t dance for shit. But you’d never been to a gathering of theirs that was this large. What was the occasion?

As you watched her scoop a ladle of some sort of homemade drink mix into a red solo cup, you realized you’d unintentionally asked the question in your head.

“So, what’s the big occasion?” You took in your surroundings, noting how happy everyone looked.

“Ah, my aunt finished her M.D program, or somethin’ like that. Basically, she’s gonna be a real big doctor soon, so you know we had to party. My cousin invited me."

“Mm,” you nodded stalely, accepting the cup she quickly pushed into your hand before she went to pour another for herself.

“Speaking of my cousin…”

There was a mischievous glint in Camila’s eyes. Was mischevious the right word? Maybe excited, but either way, you didn’t like it one bit.

Mid sip, you slowly lowered your drink from your lips, eyes narrowing at her in suspicion.

“Camila Janaé Reyes. What are you plotting?”

“Nothingggg!”

Judging by that tone, it was definitely not nothing.

“I just want you to meet him, that’s all.” Her words drawled as she gave you one of her sickeningly sweet smiles, and you whined like a child who’d just been asked to put a coat on before leaving the house.

“Seriously, ‘Mila? That’s why you invited me?”

“No! Well… Kinda?” she grimaced.

Your bestfriend could be quite persistent, especially with specific things others didn’t want her to be persistent with. Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made them slightly less favorable, and of course, that trait is almost impossible to recognize in yourself.

This—the overbearing persistence, the thinking that she knew better for everyone than they did themselves—was Camila’s, and it irked you to your core like no other.

“Camila, I told you, no boys. I don’t even think I have it in me after..." The rest of the sentence died on your tongue as your hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose, prompting Camila to give you a knowing head nod. With her, you didn’t even have to finish the thought.

“I know, I know,” she said. “But his mom’s been a little worried about how quiet he’s gotten and asked if I could bring someone for him to talk to. So, I thought maybe you guys could be friends or something. That’s it! He don’t got many, and you—well…”

You almost cracked a smile at that, even though you were still annoyed with her. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

You somehow found it in you to let your guard down a bit, which, in theory, would probably come back to bite you in the ass later. You just didn’t know how soon that would be the case.

Your shoulders slumped, a telltale sign of you ready to throw in the towel, just this once like you always did. Camila was already getting excited.

“Alright, alright. Who’s your cousin?”

The petite girl rolled her lips inward to bite back a wide grin, and instead of answering you, she slid beside you and slunk her arm around your shoulders. Her neck stretched for a second as she scanned the lively gathering, her eyes widening once she found who she was scouting for.

She gestured with her chin, not wanting to make it obvious.

“See that guy by himself over there? Like, six foot two, wide shoulders, lowkey thinks he’s Batman, kinda gotta mug on him? He’s nice though, swear. When he wants to be.”

You squinted into the distance. “Uhh… I think that’s a woman, ‘Mila.”

She gasped at that, shoving your shoulder hard enough to almost make you stumble. “No not my Tia Beatriz, you bitch!”

“Oh shit—“

A laugh tore through your apology before you could stop it, and the girl next to you made a sound with her throat that was clearly her trying to hold back her own laughter.

"Idiota," she mumbled.

Two hands clamped down on your shoulders before you felt your body shift to the side a bit, someone else coming into view once your perspective changed.

“I’m talkin’bout him.”

The last time you could recall your heart dropping into your ass at this same rate was when your mom caught you trying to stuff your bra in the sixth grade before the bus arrived. And somehow, that feeling still wasn’t comparable to this.

This—this was much different.

“Y’see him?”

How could you not?

A little ways down, casually leaned back on an elbow at the tall edge of the roof, stood a lanky-looking, brownskinned boy who was far too handsome for his own good. Clad in a fitted black shirt and a cropped leather jacket, you could tell that piece of clothing alone cost more than your entire outfit. He was rocking some straight-legged, black cargo pants and a pair of Air Jordan 1’s you’d never seen before. There was a jaded look plastered on his face, and something about his body language led you to believe that he was forcing himself to be here.

You swallowed,

“That’s your cousin?”

Camila’s insanely, good looking, cousin, if you hadn’t mentioned that already. Not even her older brother was this fine. This boy put the childish crush you had on Luis to absolute shame.

“Mm-hm.”

Your gaze alternated back and forth between her and the boy in the distance. "But, you guys don’t—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. We get that a lot, big family.” She waved you off, probably having heard this a million times.

Her posture suddenly straightened with newfound determination, and it made your heart jump.

“Well, what are we just standin’ here for? Let’s go-“

“Nope. Nuh uh.”

Camila’s head recoiled when she raised a questioning brow at you. “Fuck you mean ‘nuh uh’?”

You balked at her as if the answer were obvious.

“I am not talking to that man!”

“Well why not?” she asked incredulously.

“Because he is fine as hell, are you crazy? I ain’t got no business goin’ over there.” You don’t know why you were lowering your voice; it’s not like he’d be able to hear you over the music anyway.

But, just by a stroke of luck, he suddenly looked up, probably due to the sweltering heat of your eyes dissecting his entire persona.

“Anddd now he’s looking at me. Oh my god,” you whisked around as casually as you could play off, fingers pressed to your hot forehead as you cursed beneath your breath.

His line of sight was cast in your direction, and though he could’ve been looking right past you, which was simply wishful thinking on your end, that was a chance you absolutely weren’t going to take.

“Yeah, he’s always able to catch people staring. I don't know how he does it… And s’kinda weird now that I think about it…” Camila mumbled distractedly to herself, her pondering eyes drifting skywards. A sharp elbow to her side, yours to be exact, was enough to pull her out of her observation and earn you a pained whine.

“Focus! What do I do now? He probably thinks I’m a creep.” you groaned.

A puff of amused air blew from her nose. “Yeah, I doubt that. He’s a bit of an odd ball himself.”

That definitely did nothing to make you feel better.

“Besides, he don’t bite,"

Your feet weren’t moving on your own accord as you began walking; it was Camila tugging you out of your in-plain sight hiding spot and towards the very boy you were just marveling at.

“I think.” she added.

“Camila, I really don’t think this is a good idea—“

Through the rush of the brief murmur-screamed argument you had with her, the walk over to him was surprisingly much shorter than your brain had estimated it to be. And of course, ever the gentleman with perfect manners, the boy in question clicked his phone off and tucked it away in his front pocket once he saw the both of you approaching him.

Camila put on her sweetest voice, and albeit a bit annoying, her intentions were pure.

“Heyyy, Miles! How are you?”

Miles. That’s a cute name. Or is it only cute because I think he’s cute? Fuck, I’m spacing out, aren’t I?

The light baritone in his voice edged you to believe that it was the latter.

“Hey cous’, I’m straight.”

Miles was talking to Camila, but he was staring dead at you while he did, as if he was purposely trying to send you into a terribly premature fit of cardiac arrest.

He had a solemn look to him; face hardened with faint frown lines that seemed a bit unfitting for his age. The only resemblance these two shared was the striking allure of hazeled eyes and how they were both able to have people lost in them without even trying. There was an energy that radiated from him—something about his presence that you felt a pull towards. It wasn’t intimidating, or brooding, no. It was more on the lines of intoxicating. And it didn’t necessarily make you uncomfortable, per se, but the fact that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling his stare was giving you most definitely did.

It was a known fact that you couldn’t hold eye contact for shit, and an observing Miles easily picked up on that after the third time your eyes had darted back and forth between his own and any random object you could keep your attention on. So, when he finally decided to spare you and directed them towards his chirpy cousin instead, you felt like you could finally breathe again and stole an embarrassingly deep inhale that nearly made you lightheaded.

“So wassup, who’s this?” Miles motioned towards you with a slight tilt of his head, hands nonchalantly planted in the pockets of his jacket.

Now that the focus was off you for a second, you used this to your advantage and took a moment to get a good, close look at him.

Everything about him was clean cut and neat—strategic. From his sharp, tapered hairline that was so precise that not a single strand of hair was out of place, to the tidy twin braids that kissed his shoulders, and even down to his shoes. They were crisp, and looked like he’d taken them right out the box before he came here, but you could tell that wasn’t the case. It was clear from the way he carried himself and the fresh ass silver cuban link hanging round his neck that he simply cared about his appearance enough to keep them that way.

“This,” A subtle, yet intentional squeeze to your right arm brought you back to the conversation. “is Y/n, my bestfriend. I don’t think she’s met you yet, so I just thought I’d introduce the two of you.”

He didn’t even nod. You weren’t even sure if he blinked. All he gave was a vague,

“Mm.”

What the fuck did that mean? Was that a good mm, or a bad mm?

Your ruminating was interrupted when Camila quietly murmured something to Miles that you couldn’t quite make out, her eyes hard in warning.

“Sé amable y no hagas nada estúpido. De verdad.” (Be nice and don’t do anything stupid. For real.)

He kissed his teeth at that, an indistinct irritation lingering in his tone at the latent reprimanding. “Nunca hago nada estúpido.” (I never do anything stupid.)

Brows bunched in confusion, your lashes fluttered in annoyance upon realizing it was their intent to keep you out of the brief exchange.

“Well,” Camila clapped her hands. “I’ll leave y’all kids to it! I need to go grab some of those pinchos before they’re all gone.” Both you and Miles sent an irked look her way when she gave a cheesy thumbs up and dipped.

It was just the two of you now, and since names were already out of the way, you hadn’t the slightest idea of where to start. But the worry didn’t last long; Miles was the first to speak up, which you were more than grateful for.

“So, how you know my cousin again?” His brow peaked. “Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Miles was good with faces—excellent, actually. He spent a lot of time people watching; knew most of Brooklyn by now, and he definitely wouldn’t have forgotten a face like yours. So he let his eyes drink you in from head to toe, committing you to memory. And damn, he sure picked a good day to be social.

You tried to focus on your answer instead of the glint of his earrings or the sharp of his jaw when his head turned to the side, so you settled on studying the buildings that lined the magenta-stained skyline in the distance.

“Well, there’s not much to it, really. I met her in the second grade, and she said we were bestfriends now, no questions asked. Guess it’s been that way ever since.” you shrugged.

“Yeah, sounds like her," he chuckled, shifting to rest both his elbows on the ledge as his back leaned against it. “She can be a little—“

“Persistent?” you interjected knowingly, a small smile painting your features.

“Shit, you tellin’ me," he snorted. “I guess that’s a nicer way to put it.”

Miles picked his cup up from where he’d previously set it down and took a swig. So far, this conversation wasn’t nearly as grueling as he’d expected it to be, and shockingly enough, he might’ve even been enjoying your company.

But unknown to you, this wasn’t the first time Miles had been introduced to one of Camila’s friends. He’d met probably three of them at this point, and honestly, he was a little over his cousin trying to throw him a bone he didn’t ask for. Did he entertain them? Possibly, for fun. Though it’s not like he actually enjoyed their presence. But there was something intriguing about you that he didn’t pick up on with the others, and he was starting to wonder what was in this punch.

“Hol’ on,” a curious look crossed his face. “You from Queens, right?”

“Mhm, grew up in the same building as Camila and everything. Why?”

“You’on really sound like it, that’s all.” he noted. Poking at the inside of your cheek with your tongue, you battled with an answer.

“Yeah, I… go back and forth, a lot.” You gave a half-hearted smile, in which he responded to with a simple nod.

Your brows furrowed as a sudden realization dawned on you.

“Y’know, now that I think about it... I don’t think I’ve ever seen you, either. You don’t come around often, do you?”

“Mm,” His lips pushed into an upturned frown—that thing people usually did when someone wasn’t far from being correct. He gave a shadowy answer and changed the subject.

“You could say that. Camila’s brought you to one of these before, I’m guessing?”

“Mm-hm, all the time.” You nodded, swirling around the fizzy liquid in your cup. “I usually chill with the elders, though.”

“Heard that.” Miles understood you completely, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile.

Now that you’d had the chance to actually speak with him, he wasn’t nearly as aloof as you’d presumed him to be.

“This your mom’s party?”

“Yes ma'am." he hummed.

You took a quick breath in through your nostrils, and Miles almost laughed at how much one word affected you.

"So..." Your eyes cautiously dragged their way over to him. “Why aren’t you celebrating with everyone else?”

Your tone was careful. Like you already knew your question was personal.

His jaw tensed for a beat and his smile dimmed a little, but he was shrugging and back to his coolheaded mien before you could make any inferences on how your question might’ve made him feel.

“Just like bein’ by my lonely, I guess. Better this way.”

Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made themselves slightly less favorable, and this was yours. Asking intimate questions too soon, unintentionally trying to uproot information about someone’s life through the innocent curiosity that usually got you into trouble.

“S’ain’t really my kind of vibe anyway." he admitted with a flippant gesture toward the party.

You mindlessly fiddled with the charm bracelet dangling from your wrist.

“And what’s your ‘kind of vibe?’”

It was a genuine question. Honest. You knew his confession came in passing, yet that didn’t deter you from wondering what he was thinking when he said it.

Miles’ aureate gaze floated to your person, and you watched as he studied your features. Eyes flitting between the both of yours, as if he were trying to get a read on you without having to ask.

You relaxed a little when he finally cracked a mirth-kissed grin.

“You just full of questions, huh?” he teased, a glint in his eye.

Somewhere in the midst of this conversation, his body had turned towards yours, and you hadn’t noticed until now that he was facing you completely. You looked to him with the same intensity he gave you and played right back.

“You could say that.”

There were a few seconds of internal struggle, seen in the way he fought to pull his gaze away. Teeth biting at the inside of his cheek like he needed a taste of pain to remind him to behave. But, when he caught sight of the way you were looking at him, that little voice in the deep of his mind wasn’t nearly loud enough for him to listen to it.

Licking at his dry lips, he knew better, but he asked anyway with an appetent tilt of his head.

“You wanna get outta here?”

—

Now how did you end up here?

Party forgotten like an old toy on Christmas morning. A newfound agenda on your mind and a new pair of lips on yours to match.

You knew good and well that the question he asked didn’t entail stepping away from the party to get a breath of clean air; in fact, you were finding it quite difficult to breathe right about now.

Huh, and here you thought he was a gentleman.

And Miles was fully aware that this was probably a bad idea, but when he wanted something, it was as if tunnel vision clouded any chance of better judgement.

Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made them slightly less favorable, and Miles was not excluded from this verity.

Starting things he knew he wouldn’t finish, was his.

here and there, about him.

summary: is he perfect? no, just like anyone else. but there will always be something about him. (aka a snippets of one of many, many things he will do for you.)

notes: missing lovesick bllk boys trope for a hot minute while doing other stuffs. short and light stuffs to scratch the itch. was about to isagi and nagi, but turns out self control is still a thing for me. warning: none, just minor swearing + fluffs capital f of smitten boys, chigiri is ready to fight for you. reader's gender unspecified.

characters: rin, chigiri, kaiser.

itoshi rin is very, very much very obvious in his favoritism to you. so obvious that both his teammates and his brother told him to tone it down a little bit. of course, rin only scoffs and tell them to mind their own business (actually he said it more as ’fuck off, cretins’, but details). but, really, no one could exactly blame them. this guy could be in an ongoing tirade of how person a is an utterly pathetic soggy wet trash, then you greet him with a smile and he turns into a cold, suave, rich boyfriend in a snowy winter day. drape his jacket on you, hold your hand, let you hug him from behind while discreetly intertwining your finger with his type of stuffs. it’s a bit disgusting, honestly. and no one wants to start commenting on how he immediately looks at your direction after scoring a goal. also if he buys something, the only one who has the slightest bit of hope of ever receiving anything is his brother here—and that chance is very miniscule on its own since none of them are you. put simply, it’s a bit infuriating, yet undeniably infuriatingly cute in its own way to watch. especially when there is a very high chance you will be the one and only romance this anti social guy will ever have. everyone in the team supports the two of you, but by gods maybe please do something about him a little bit?

chigiri hyoma would never let anyone hurt you. it’s common knowledge already that he takes no shit from anyone and ever since he saw you as ‘the one’, he pretty much already thinks of you as an inseparable part of his life already. so, in other words, that means you have gotten yourself a boyfriend who is ready to became a biting guard dog at moments notice. someone insults you? tries to physically harms you? oh, baby, held your boyfriend back because he is also known to get angry real quick. save his reputation and held himself back from spouting words that would make someone’s ancestor cry or, worse, beat someone up. this is a speedster athlete trained by ego jinpachi himself—no one could escape unscathed from something like that. but hey, this is someone who naturally turns into a shoujo manga male lead with soft gazes and flowery smile the moment you put a hand on his cheek. this is, in a way, just another way for him to protect and make sure of your comfort. also, he needs to have an outlet for the less soft part somewhere other than soccer.

michael kaiser is very reliable and observant, despite whatever persona or deflection he will give you even in the ‘official already’ part of your relationship. this guy got a high ego and put on an air of someone high and mighty, beyond your league. but everyone all know if you got to the part where he proudly let you wore his clothes or make sure you stay pressed to his side during walks, he is down bad. still, for his sake and maybe everyone else’s, let him take care of you and act casual about it. don’t point it out when he suddenly crouch down and tie your untied shoelaces, keep talking as if nothing happened when he put a hand in the small of your back, and just act as if nothing happen when he gave someone a ferocious glare while making sure you cling unto his arm. don’t praise or, god forbid, swoon at those. it will only make him get flustered and lose his composure or, worse, get real annoying. he is indeed good at the whole act of service thing, surprisingly, but please do remember his attitude is indeed also in the ‘piece of shit’ category most of the time. just let the yellow and blue betta fish swim at his own pace and let what means to happen in the future, happen at its own time, including giving praises to him without him reacting like a lovesick brat.

i was just watching buzzfeed— dave franco and alison bries couple interviews and if you haven’t done it already, reading thirst traps together?

COUPLES THIRST TWEETS

you and your boyfriend are invited to read thirst tweets on buzzfeed

cw: HERE YOU GO. suggestive. sfw. dialogue based.

“he’s been looking forward to this one.”

bakugou arches an eyebrow. typical crossed arms, way too casual for an interview but this is expected from him. since you’re beside him, he says more than on his own.

“have i?”

“nope. he hates when people thirst over him and over me.”

“people have no BLEEP-ing decorum. unless it’s you sayin’ it to me.”

you laugh looking to the camera, “it’s a good thing i’ll be the one saying it to him today!”

“oh god this one is long. ‘why did nobody tell me how fine dynamight is? i just saw a newspaper cover of him half naked and bloody on my way to work and i’m thinking of going back home to touch myself’.” you cover your mouth when you’re done, giggles rippling through your body.

your boyfriend makes a loud, “hah? no fuckin’ way. see that’s just…” he rips the paper out your hand to read it again.

“you are a hazard. the blood makes you look all ragged and sexy.”

he meets your eyes, pointing at you, “you people are crazy. i was bleedin’.”

“for fucks sake, ‘if yn wants i will be her dog and serve her all day because there is no reason a woman that beautiful should do anything she doesn’t want. wanna eat her ass.’”

you laugh out loud while bakugou skims it again, “why the fuck did they have to add that last part. it was doin’ okay.”

“you think it’s okay someone wants to be my dog?”

bakugou wipes his hand over his face, “nah, these people need to stay away from you.”

“would you be my dog?”

bakugou levels you with a stare. his frown and your sweet smile. it doesn’t last long before he breaks and smiles back at you, “i think i already am.”

“i think i would be able to BLEEP dynamight unlike anybody else. i’d massage him, relax him till he’s sleepy and then finger BLEEP his asshole. he looks like he needs it he’s so uptight.” you gasp, “they said you look like you need a finger up your ass!”

bakugou cannot help an amused, “what? BLEEP you! i’m stressed out all the BLEEP-ing time savin’ the world and in return i’m told i need to get fingered?”

you shrug, “maybe you do? your shoulders are so tight.”

“BLEEP you too, babe.”

“watchin’ interviews with yn and dynamight you know their sex is good. i’ve never seen dynamight so chill and yn laughs like he’s the funniest man on earth.” bakugou reads, then looks up, nonchalantly, “the sex is great.”

you shove him and he chuckles, “what?! they agree!”

“i do not laugh that much,” you shake your head, “the last person saying you look uptight and this one saying youre calm with me.”

“don’t put ideas in their heads,” he nudges his head to the camera, “tell them that the sex is good.”

“it’s alright.”

“baby.”

“great. showstopping. never been done before. amazing—,”

“yn talks and i’m just lookin’ at her tits. dynamight is a lucky man,” bakugou reads in a grumble before looking up in the camera, “BLEEP off.”

“they said you’re a lucky man!”

“yeah i am but that’s code for they wanna BLEEP you. it’s a weird compliment.”

“i look at your tits when you talk.”

“i know you do. i’m the only one with decency.”

“one night with bakugou dynamight katsuki. please please please please. i want him to rail me until i pass out.” you read, “understandable.”

“no thank you.”

you’re smiling, “really? that’s your response?”

“you’d want me to rail them until they pass out?”

you nod, “he’s such a respectful gentleman.”

bakugou grabs your stool and begins to shake it for you to fall off.

“i almost died!”

“if yn and dynamight want a sugar baby i am happy to give my application. i’d have my face in her ass and dynamight’s dick in my—woah—stomach,” bakugou reads, eyes widening at the last part. “her BLEEP-in’ stomach?”

he even frowns at the cameras completely disgusted, “where the BLEEP do you find these people?”

you could laugh at how prude he’s being, like he doesn’t say the same shit to you behind closed doors and you to him. “is that another respectful no then?”

“BLEEP no. you’re enough for me.”

“he’s already got a sugar baby.”

“who?” he blurts, squinting at you.

“me dummy.”

bakugou chuckles, his shoulders jumping. “she’s got her own money, dunno why she’s lyin’.”

you nudge his shoulder, “i like using yours though.”

if he wasn’t in front of the cameras he’d kiss your cheek since you’re leaning so close into him, “that’s alright with me.”

obey me x pokemon au: the great mammon wants to fight!

summary: when you decide to become a pokemon trainer, a familiar face from your childhood decides he's going to help you by not helping you. or that's what he tells himself, anyway.

featuring: mammon x gn!reader

content: sfw (suggestive towards the end). follows the vibes of generation one except they're adults and, y'know, not children. "rivals" to lovers trope and so many clichés. tbh this is mostly mammon challenging reader to pokemon battles instead of talking about his feelings. wc: 1.6k+

Mammon is there when you choose your first Pokemon and he boldly declares that he's going to be your rival. Apparently, it's going to toughen you up and you should be grateful. When you admit you've never battled before, he embellishes his own track record hoping to impress you. (It doesn't.)

"Your first challenger is the Great Mammon! You better be ready to cough up that prize money!" He summons a low-level Pokemon similar to yours, but your Pokemon has a type advantage over his and it's almost a landslide victory in your favour.

He scoffs when you seem surprised by how easy that was. "You’re lucky I wasn't trying that hard. The next time we meet, I won't hold back!"

He just happens to set out for his own adventure the same time you do. At one of the junctions just outside of town, there's a very clear fork in the road: left or right. You think he's going to follow you, but when you turn right, he pointedly goes left. You wish him luck but he doesn't look back, and your mood deflates a little. It would've been nice to have company for a journey like this, but you carry on and accept it might be a long time before you see him again.

As it turns out, you cross paths with Mammon much sooner than you think.

For someone who claims to be your rival, it's weird how often you run into him. It's too convenient that Mammon shows up exactly when you need help the most. He teams up with you whenever a pair of trainers tries to gang up on you, or when you wander into an area with Pokemon far stronger than your own. Your Pokemon learn to fight in sync with his because they spend so much time together.

No matter how many times you ask, Mammon refuses your offers to officially join you. Sometimes he shows up out of the blue to challenge you to a battle. Other times he shoves a bag of supplies - usually spare Pokeballs and potions - into your arms and takes off again.

For most of your journey, Mammon's not far behind you. There are a few times he beats you to your destination. It’s a rare treat when you arrive at the next gym in time to watch him battle against its leader. He gets flustered when he realizes you're watching from the sidelines, but his Pokemon preen under your rapt attention. His team's gotten a lot stronger too.

If you're last to challenge the town's gym leader, Mammon waits for you outside and drags you into another battle. You're not sure what he's trying to prove, but you reluctantly accept his challenge and defeat him once again.

He doesn't usually have much prize money to give you when he loses. You refuse to take the small amount of gold he has in his pockets. He's your friend and you don't even want his money, but that just seems to irritate him even more. He denies loudly and vehemently that you're nothing more than his rival.

You think losing would hurt less than the sting of his rejection.

Contrary to what he says, your not-a-friend keeps traveling the same path you do. It would be cute if he wasn't being so stubborn.

Your dream of becoming a Pokemon Champion draws closer with each gym leader you defeat. You fasten the shiny new badge from the eighth and final gym leader to your jacket, but your excitement is short-lived. There's a familiar figure waiting for you on the outskirts of town, and he's wearing all eight badges too.

"Mammon, do we have to keep doing this? We've come so far. I really don't want to fight you anymore."

But he just smirks and plucks a Pokeball off his belt. "How are you gonna beat the Elite Four if you can't beat me?"

It's a close battle - the closest one yet - but you add another victory to your winning streak against him.

After the dust settles (literally), Mammon storms away. You heal your Pokemon with some potions first and you heal his too. None of the Pokemon pick up on the tension between you and Mammon. In fact, they all play together like they weren't just locked in a feverish duel a few minutes before.

You look over your shoulder and spot Mammon under the shade of a nearby tree. The scowl on his face is unwelcoming and you decide to give him his space. You assume he's stewing in the disappointment of another defeat. You could say "I told you so," but that would probably make things worse. (And you don't want to make things worse.)

Besides, even if you asked him, Mammon wouldn't be able to tell you what's wrong. He watches his Pokemon flock to you for attention and you feed them berries from your satchel. Was it the fact that you beat him every time he challenged you to a battle? He's always been a sore loser. Or was it the realization that he wasted so much time being your rival when he could've just been your friend instead?

"I wonder if you ever needed me at all," Mammon mutters to himself. His voice is too quiet for you to hear.

Eventually he returns but his mood is indiscernible and you don't know what to say. By the time you're both packed and ready to leave, the bitter expression on Mammon's face is gone. He runs his hand through his hair, glancing at you from the corner of his eye while his cheeks darken slightly.

When he's not too busy being your rival, you think that he can be very charming.

"How do ya feel about goin' up Victory Road together?" He holds his hand out to you stiffly. "Y'know, safety in numbers and all." His expression softens when you immediately place your hand in his. He laces his fingers with yours and you both pretend neither of you are smiling.

You make it through Victory Road, but the playful banter between you fades into grim anticipation when you finally reach the steps of Indigo Plateau. You both sign up to challenge the Elite Four at the reception desk before you lose your nerve and run back out the door.

There must not be any other challengers because Mammon's name is called almost immediately. He looks as panicked as you feel; there's so much left unsaid but not enough time to say anything at all. When he passes through the door without a word and it slams shut behind him, you feel like you're going to cry. Regret sits heavy in the pit of your stomach but all you can do is wait.

It feels like an eternity before they finally call your name, and Mammon still hasn’t returned.

You try to push thoughts of him away so you can concentrate on battling your opponents and their formidable Pokemon. Adrenaline surges through you and your hands tremble each time you summon a new Pokemon to your side. One by one, you come out of each battle victorious. It feels like luck rather than strength or skill that's gotten you this far because your potion supply is dwindling. Doubt clouds your mind each time one of your Pokemon is knocked out but the third member of the Elite Four finally bows to you.

The battle with Lance, the final member of the Elite Four, is absolute chaos. Your Pokemon suffer the merciless onslaught of his powerful dragon-types, the likes of which you've never seen before. Somehow your team barely manages to secure your victory, but it's still too early to celebrate.

There's one more challenger waiting for you.

When Lance accepts his defeat and moves aside, you step into the next arena to face off with the region's newest Champion.

“Yo! I was wondering how long you were gonna keep me waitin’!”

You gape at Mammon who waves to you from the Champion's podium. He looks so happy to see you that you break the stunned silence with a sigh of relief that bubbles into giddy laughter.

He tosses his first Pokeball into the air and catches it again, over and over, while his confident smirk warms into something more teasing. "C'mon babe, it's just you 'n me at the top of the world. Show the Great Mammon what you've really got!"

Both your teams fight like they've never fought before. It's a knock-down-drag-out battle that shifts back and forth between your favour and his.

When your last Pokemon is the only one remaining and the battle is won, Mammon jogs across the arena to you. He hands you a bag filled with more prize money than you know what to do with. "I owe ya from all those times before, don't I? You deserve it. Besides, I got most of it from those losers back there."

He nearly loses his balance when you throw your arms around him and give him a hug. It only takes a moment for him to wrap his arms around your waist and melt against you.

"So, Champion," he murmurs, brushing his lips against your cheek with a smile, "how about we find somewhere to grab dinner and celebrate?" 

The next morning, Mammon looks far too devilish with his messy white bedhead hair and starchy hotel sheets draped loosely across his hips. You're not sure you'll ever want to get out of bed when he looks like that, but when your tummy rumbles with hunger, you bashfully suggest getting up.

Mammon waggles his eyebrows and slides an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. His very thoughtful suggestion is staying put and eating a breakfast of champions instead.

(He holds up his hands in mock surrender after you hit him in the face with a pillow, and he agrees to go out after all - once you give him one last kiss, of course.)

read more: obey me x pokemon au masterlist | obey me masterlist

CRUSH (ushijima wakatoshi x reader)

summary: wakatoshi has a crush.

word count: 720

warnings: fem!reader, its all just fluff

tags: @keiva1000

Ushijima knows he has fans. He might be simple-minded and a little oblivious, but he’s not stupid.

He knows girls stare at him from the balcony during practice. And he can hear their giggling when he passes them in the halls. Tendou often calls him Shiratorizawa’s Golden Boy, which Ushijima wholeheartedly disagrees with, but never voices out loud. Tendou often says strange things. He doesn’t mind.

Ushijima doesn’t understand his popularity. Sure, he is a good player. The best ace in the prefecture. But most of these girls have no understanding of volleyball. So why are they spending hours upon hours in the stands, watching him play?

“They’re not watching the match, Wakatoshi-kun. They are watching you.”

Hm. Strange. His play is very consistent. Watching him do the same thing over and over has to get boring, especially when they aren’t watching for the sake of the game.

But then he sees you for the first time.

You are in his third year English class. In his three years of high school, Ushijima is sure he has never seen you before. Because if he had, there was no way he would forget you.

He is curious. And a little enamored by you.

You are, by all means, a regular girl. You sit on the same chair every day, bring your own bento instead of eating from the cafeteria. It is always wrapped in a pretty multicolored patterned cloth, done up in a knot on top. You have a small stuffed cat chain on the zipper of your backpack. And you wear your hair differently every day. Some days it is tied up, some days it is let down. And some days it is half-up and half-down. You have one pink bunny hairclip that you wear maybe once every two or three days that Ushijima thinks is very cute. Your uniform is always immaculate.

There are so many tiny details about you that Ushijima has learned, and he finally understands why girls would stay hanging over the gym balcony to watch him for hours, because he could watch you for hours too.

You are very smart, he could tell. You always answer correctly when the teacher would call on you, and he has glimpsed at your notes. Simple, but neat and easy to understand, just the way he likes it. There are no crazy colors and highlighters, and your handwriting is neat and beautiful, just like the rest of you.

You are also quiet. You have a select group of friends that you talk to, and while you are nice to anyone who interacts with you, you don't go out of your way to stand out. Again, Ushijima loves that. It seems he loved everything about you. All the minor details that make you a little bit more unique to everyone else.

When you show up at his game, he nearly loses his focus.

It in’t an important game by any means, just a practice match with another local university team. So why are you here? Have your friends dragged you along? Or are you here by your own volition? Ushijima feels how sweaty his palms are when he clenches his fists, and it surprises him.

Is he….. nervous?

Why? Because you are watching? How ridiculous. Ushijima has never once doubted his own strength, or his ability to win. How could your presence alter that? The thought annoys him, and he is determined to prove that you being here would not be a hindrance to his play.

Turns out, he needn't have worried. It seems your presence had sharpened his senses more than ever. Shiratorizawa won in straight sets, and of the 50 points they scored, 39 had been from Ushijima’s hand.

“You were on fire today, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou comments as the final whistle rings. Ushijima unintentionally glances at you in the stands, cheering for the team. Cheering for him.

His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he doesn’t think it is because of the game he had just played. He hears Tendou let out a dreamy sigh.

“Ah, the miracles of having a crush.”

He feels his lips tick up in a tiny smile as he throws a towel over his shoulders. Tendou is wrong. Ushijima doesn’t think he has a crush.

He thinks he is in love.

Hii! I just saw your Loren art work and HE. IS.SO. CUTEEE!!! 💖💖 the pink collar around his neck is 😍😍 but it made me think of a funny scenario (most likely one where reader knows about his obsession with them and uses it to their advantage)

It was a huge game for the college team. Almost everyone and their grand mama came to see it! Two rival teams competing against each other, both known for their long streaks of winning, and not only that! Loren’s darling is on the sidelines cheering him on! (You are probably just watching the game bored out of your mind cuz the coach FORCED you to be there *saying it’ll give them a higher chance of winning*) unfortunately though Loren’s team seems to be losing by a couple points. The stands are restless and the other teams stands even started mocking the players! With Loren’s coach yelling and hollering he suddenly got an idea.

Coach: OY! Number 13’s (girlfriend/boyfriend)! Get over here!

Surprised at the sudden call over you quickly walked over to him. “What-“ “-no time for Lilly gagging! I need you to give number 13 a pep talk! Some type of motivation! You hear me!? I ain’t gonna let these assholes win!!” He cut you off and told you what to do. Thinking for a minute as he pushed you to where Loren was taking a break on the bench, a thought popped up. You sighed and stood in front of him, he looked up to you in with that cute gaze and a sad smile. “Hey (y/n), I know this ain’t look too good but I bet we can still turn this around!” He tried to stay positive (as positive as you can get when making a fool of your self in front of your crush). You just lowered yourself to his eye level and started talking.

(Y/n): don’t worry bout that, don’t worry about what already happened. Just focus on what you do next. Cuz like you said you still have time to turn it around. *you grabbed the back of his neck and leaned into his ear, whispering* if you do manage to win,I’ll celebrate with you-give you a reward. I’ll do things so VILE to you that it’ll make the devil blush~ *giving him a smirk and a kiss on the cheek you left him on the bench*

Meanwhile the other team:”We are destroying those fools!” “They can’t keep up with us!” “That trophy is—wait do y’all hear boss music??”

Long story short Loren’s team won, the other team had most of their players end up in the hospital and he didn’t leave your apartment for almost 3 days after. (He also couldn’t walk properly for a whole week and had to wear more “covering” clothes for a while) —💖💖 anon

I almost feel like I don’t need to write anything at this point! The scenario is too good too pass up though.

——————————

Loren was frustrated. You could see it from where you sat on the teams bench. Technically, you weren’t supposed to be sat their, as it was reserved for the team and all, but the coach had made an exception for you on account of Loren’s-….crush. Or whatever it was. You didn’t know and you didn’t care.

But you had to admit, seeing that look on his face was a little upsetting. The guy had been sweet to you. A little overbearing, but sweet. And you found it a bit hard to deny the butterflies in your stomach whenever he looked so eager for praise or attention from you.

You weren’t stupid. Loren had made his intentions very clear after the first few meetings. “My lucky charm” he so often said. You found that almost laughable, what with how unlucky you often seemed to be.

That felt all the more true when you watched Loren let out a frustrated sigh, his helmet being roughly pulled from his head as the coach called a time out.

You watched, in a somewhat flattered manner, as narrowed brown eyes found their place on you, and subsequently widened in shock and awe. A wide smile broke onto the star players face as he made a beeline straight towards you.

You stood up once he came to a stop infront of the bench you occupied, and handed him his water bottle.

Loren’s tan cheeks flushed darkly, though you weren’t ignorant enough to assume it was from sweat with the way he was staring at you.

It was intense enough to make your heart beat just a little faster.

He panted after a quick sip, trying to catch his breath and not sound more pathetic than he felt.

“What-“ a deep breath “what’re you doing here? I thought you had a test tomorrow?”

Loren didn’t do much to hide how happy he was seeing you. Though the embarrassment of his previous play seemed to quickly settle in when he realized you had been watching him flounder about on the field.

You gave a soft huff and folded your arms. “Yeah-, well.” You glanced to the side, a bit shyly. You weren’t embarrassed. Only a little actually. Maybe a lot. “I finished early and decided to come see the game. A friend of mine told me it was a big deal or something so I figured I’d might as well.” Actually you knew the whole time. And you skipped studying. The real reason you showed up was because you felt guilty after seeing his face when you first rejected the offer.

God it payed to be pretty didn’t it?

Loren’s smile became all the wider at your answer. Though you spotted what seemed like mirth dancing in his eyes, before he shook his head of the cold water he sprayed onto it and looked deeply at you.

“Well I’m glad you came. Though, I wish you hadn’t see us getting our asses kicked out there..”

Jesus that kicked puppy look was killing you. You imagined he probably felt the brunt of his teams failure. Since he was the captain and all. You felt a bit bad for the guy.

“….”

You bit your lip softly.

Am I really about to do this?

If there was one thing you learned about Loren, Is he was driven by motivation. And nothing got him more motivated than you. He was more like a dog than people realized.

With only a few minutes left in the game, you decided it was a now or never situation. Besides, it wasn’t the worse case scenario.

You didn’t mine the idea actually.

With quick resolve you gripped the front of Loren’s jersey with one hand, yanked him down to your height and gripped the hair on the back of his neck firmly with the other, earning a startled grunt from the burly player who looked at you with wide glazed over eyes.

The way he was staring at you was borderline…..

Whatever that wasn’t important right now.

“Loren. I don’t know why the fuck your playing like shit right now.” Your heart ached at the borderline whimper that poured from the poor brunettes chest, “But I know damn well you can kick this shitty little teams ass.”

Loren’s breath cought in his throat for a moment, and he stared deeply in your eyes as if searching for any hint that you didn’t believe what you just said. But when he found nothing he swallowed thickly with a raging flush.

“(Y/n)…”

Time to real him in.

With a heavy exhale you furrowed your brows and gripped tighter on to his shirt.

“If you make a come back and win this game…”

“I’ll give you a kiss.”

.

.

.

Somehow the deafening roar of the two teams crowds faded instantly into white noise. The bright lights of the night poles buzzed dully in your ears as Loren’s brown eyes burned so hard into you, you swore you’d go blind.

“On the lips?”

“On the lips.”

You watched as this 6’6 hunk of man slid onto his knees in front of you, and you forced yourself not to whip around in embarrassment at the sight and the possibly of a dozen eyes watching you.

Loren breathed deeply, pushing his head into your stomach softly, like a dog asking to be pet, and you couldn’t stop yourself from running your fingers through is soft wet hair.

He shuddered, and shakily exhaled. “Promise?” He begged this wasn’t a cruel joke. Something you were going to hang over head.

“Promise.”

Holy fuck

You’d never seen a guy bolt up like that before. With nimble feet he grabbed your hand and placed a gentle kiss on the pads of your fingers, like a promise of what was to come, before turning around and marching onto the field, helmet now securely placed on his head.

The aura he had was intense. Like he was officially in the game for the first time that night. And it seemed both teams realized this, with the way their shoulders tensed and the audience grew more frenzied.

It was over before the enemy could even blink, and the sound of cheers that followed was deafening.

You could feel yourself smile a bit at the sight of Loren’s teammates crowding around him excitedly, like kids who just won a new toy.

He laughed loudly, though quickly jerked away from their hold and ran to you.

He was out of breath when he reached you, and the furious red on his cheeks was very telling. In fact, you were pretty sure the sweat and heavy breathing wasn’t from the game he just played.

Guess you had to commit now huh?

Loren’s gaze was nothing short of eager and desperate, and the way he licked his lips, seemingly unconsciously made the whole thing seem much more vulgar than it actually was.

It was just a kiss right? Probably barely even a peck.

You should’ve known that Loren was gonna get as much out of that single kiss as he could though.

With quick confirmation from you, Loren’s large rough hands took careful hold of your face. He already looked ruined from just touching you, though that may have been the post game sweat.

Time slowed briefly, and before you knew it you felt a heavy breath on your lips, where the star players hovered for a moment before finally pressing down.

It was soft at first. Gentle. His hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you closer amongst the screams and roars of the fans who watched in awe.

Some angry. Most charmed by the romantic display.

Though when Loren’s other hand slid to your lower back, and his foot inched forward to press further into you, causing you trip, the noises faded out again.

Because Loren didn’t stop kissing you. Even when you’d fallen and your mouth popped open to gasp slightly, and his arms caught your head and cradled it tenderly and possessively, he continued to kiss you. Deeply, passionately, and above all else desperately.

What was supposed to be a pretty and simple kiss quickly turned into a make out, Loren’s hands groping at varying parts of your body but never breaking away. Your hands subsequently finding themselves tangled in his spiky soft hair.

At the sound of a low groan pouring from Loren’s lips you snapped out of it and pushed him away, though he resisted for a moment before remembering where he was.

Lifting himself up, he didn’t appear the least bit embarrassed by the public display as he hovered over you on the dewey grass field.

He looked almost frustrated at the interruption if anything.

The sky was dark above him, and the faint artificial lights glowed around you in his eyes. Though you could’ve argued similarly.

He almost looked angelic. If it hadn’t been for the look in his eyes and the odd firmness on your thigh.

Your embarrassment reached its peak when the coach blew his whistle at the two of you.

“Alright Ortega quite snoggin and get your puebescent ass over here! We still gotta wash up and go over the game! ”

Fuck you wanted to crawl in a hole and die so badly. At least your team won the game right?

It was best you didn’t know the only reason they had been losing in the first place was because a certain wonder boy was pouting over your previous rejection.