(Azumanga Daioh) Kanpai
Title: Kanpai
Fandom: Azumanga Daioh
Pairing: Yukari/Nyamo
Rating: NC-17
Words: 649
Notes: For a prompt at the Third Annual Femslash Kink Meme.
Summary: Routines and patterns and the same old questions.
Nyamo asks herself if it’s worth it every time. Every damn time. Grumbles it into her ramen as Yukari bellows out toast after toast. Sighs it into her hands when Yukari falls out of her chair. Mutters it under her breath as she drags Yukari towards the street so they can find a taxi, which Nyamo will end up paying for.
Every damn time.
Yukari is a loud person. She lives her life at maximum volume, as if it’s not real if everyone in the surrounding area isn’t being treated to the blow-by-blow, as if the world is boring to her without an unwilling audience.
Nyamo’s pretty sure she’ll be prematurely deaf by the time she hits fifty.
Yukari is a loud person in her day to day life, but that has nothing on drunk Yukari.
Drunk Yukari is normal Yukari turned up to eleven. Drunk Yukari is normal Yukari by way of megaphone.
Nyamo’s gotten really good at smiling apologetically in all directions whilst trying to juggle Yukari’s weight, because people don’t tend to appreciate it when Yukari screams “HEY YOU, YOUR HAT IS EXQUISITE!” or “FOLLOW YOUR SHOES AND THEY WILL LEAD YOU DOWN THE PATH OF urghIdon’tfeelsogood!”
Going out drinking with Yukari means an empty wallet and a nice round of public humiliation.
Every damn time.
But Nyamo stills goes. Still accepts every invite. Still takes every steak dinner bet, even though she’s long since learnt that Yukari will change the rules in the blink of an eye to avoid paying up.
Still ends up shoving Yukari’s dead weight into a taxi and praying Yukari doesn’t throw up, because the drivers tend to fine their patrons for that kind of behaviour.
Getting Yukari up the stairs to Nyamo’s apartment is always an ordeal. Yukari will keep sneering out all these little comments about how Nyamo’s a gym teacher, so shouldn’t this kind of physical exertion be a walk in the park for her, never mind that Yukari’s the one who’s forgotten how to use her feet.
But the alternative is dumping Yukari at her mother’s place, and that just seems cruel.
And there are, Nyamo has to admit, more selfish reasons for bringing Yukari home with her.
Because there’ll come a point, once Nyamo’s heaved Yukari through the door and deposited her on the couch or the floor, that Yukari will finally, finally go silent.
That silence means one of two things. The first possibility is that Yukari’s passed out, already drooling all over herself and frowning in her sleep.
The second possibility is the one that makes Nyamo squirm, because Yukari will be staring at her with narrowed eyes, beckoning Nyamo closer.
And Nyamo will obey. Every damn time.
She’ll settle down next to Yukari, let hands brush lightly over her clothes, over the exposed skin on her arms, trying not to chew her lip bloody.
Because that’s when Yukari will talk to her. Not shouting, not even speaking at her usual shrill volume.
No, Yukari will whisper to her, lips pressed to Nyamo’s ear. Will tell Nyamo her much she wants her, how beautiful Nyamo is when she blushes like that. Will tell Nyamo how wet she is for her, how much she wants to taste her, tongue licking everywhere until it finally presses inside.
Yukari will describe how Nyamo is going to open for her fingers, and Nyamo can almost feel it, thighs fanning open as she pants and Yukari smiles into her hair. Yukari’s words washing over her, promising pleasure and love and forever and ever, and Nyamo will listen until her blood roars in her ears.
And when she can’t take it anymore, when she feels like she’ll explode without Yukari’s touch, Nyamo will turn her head and crush their mouths together, tasting beer and heat, and Yukari will smirk against her lips and make it all worthwhile.
Every damn time.
Fandom: Azumanga Daioh
Pairing: Yukari/Nyamo
Rating: NC-17
Words: 649
Notes: For a prompt at the Third Annual Femslash Kink Meme.
Summary: Routines and patterns and the same old questions.
Nyamo asks herself if it’s worth it every time. Every damn time. Grumbles it into her ramen as Yukari bellows out toast after toast. Sighs it into her hands when Yukari falls out of her chair. Mutters it under her breath as she drags Yukari towards the street so they can find a taxi, which Nyamo will end up paying for.
Every damn time.
Yukari is a loud person. She lives her life at maximum volume, as if it’s not real if everyone in the surrounding area isn’t being treated to the blow-by-blow, as if the world is boring to her without an unwilling audience.
Nyamo’s pretty sure she’ll be prematurely deaf by the time she hits fifty.
Yukari is a loud person in her day to day life, but that has nothing on drunk Yukari.
Drunk Yukari is normal Yukari turned up to eleven. Drunk Yukari is normal Yukari by way of megaphone.
Nyamo’s gotten really good at smiling apologetically in all directions whilst trying to juggle Yukari’s weight, because people don’t tend to appreciate it when Yukari screams “HEY YOU, YOUR HAT IS EXQUISITE!” or “FOLLOW YOUR SHOES AND THEY WILL LEAD YOU DOWN THE PATH OF urghIdon’tfeelsogood!”
Going out drinking with Yukari means an empty wallet and a nice round of public humiliation.
Every damn time.
But Nyamo stills goes. Still accepts every invite. Still takes every steak dinner bet, even though she’s long since learnt that Yukari will change the rules in the blink of an eye to avoid paying up.
Still ends up shoving Yukari’s dead weight into a taxi and praying Yukari doesn’t throw up, because the drivers tend to fine their patrons for that kind of behaviour.
Getting Yukari up the stairs to Nyamo’s apartment is always an ordeal. Yukari will keep sneering out all these little comments about how Nyamo’s a gym teacher, so shouldn’t this kind of physical exertion be a walk in the park for her, never mind that Yukari’s the one who’s forgotten how to use her feet.
But the alternative is dumping Yukari at her mother’s place, and that just seems cruel.
And there are, Nyamo has to admit, more selfish reasons for bringing Yukari home with her.
Because there’ll come a point, once Nyamo’s heaved Yukari through the door and deposited her on the couch or the floor, that Yukari will finally, finally go silent.
That silence means one of two things. The first possibility is that Yukari’s passed out, already drooling all over herself and frowning in her sleep.
The second possibility is the one that makes Nyamo squirm, because Yukari will be staring at her with narrowed eyes, beckoning Nyamo closer.
And Nyamo will obey. Every damn time.
She’ll settle down next to Yukari, let hands brush lightly over her clothes, over the exposed skin on her arms, trying not to chew her lip bloody.
Because that’s when Yukari will talk to her. Not shouting, not even speaking at her usual shrill volume.
No, Yukari will whisper to her, lips pressed to Nyamo’s ear. Will tell Nyamo her much she wants her, how beautiful Nyamo is when she blushes like that. Will tell Nyamo how wet she is for her, how much she wants to taste her, tongue licking everywhere until it finally presses inside.
Yukari will describe how Nyamo is going to open for her fingers, and Nyamo can almost feel it, thighs fanning open as she pants and Yukari smiles into her hair. Yukari’s words washing over her, promising pleasure and love and forever and ever, and Nyamo will listen until her blood roars in her ears.
And when she can’t take it anymore, when she feels like she’ll explode without Yukari’s touch, Nyamo will turn her head and crush their mouths together, tasting beer and heat, and Yukari will smirk against her lips and make it all worthwhile.
Every damn time.