[fanfic] Payback
I swear this will be the first and last time I will ever get up early to post a fic, and this is only because it's the first day of classes spring quarter.
HAWKSHIPPINGGGGGGG how I ship this like crazy, thanks much to dreaminginside for helping me come up with the name!
Title: Payback
Fandom: Inazuma Eleven
Pairing: Tobitaka/Fudou
Warnings: sexual activity, m/m
Summary: An eye for an eye, a tooth from the comb.
If you asked Fudou Akio if he considers himself friends with anyone on the Inazuma Japan team - regulars or reserves - he would scoff and call your mother nasty names and question your intellectual prowess. If you asked Fudou Akio if he considers himself close with anyone on the Inazuma Japan team - well, you’d better forget asking anything else because he’d go for your neck first. He is above such silly things, especially relations with any sort of person that can reduce him to a blubbering, cursing mess with a fierce, unexpected kiss. And if any such thing were to happen, he’d tell you he definitely beat such a person to an inch of his life for that, not that he kissed back with such a fervor they were both flushed and panting. Also it didn’t happen.
If there’s anything Fudou prides himself on most, it’s his sneakiness. He’s the best at it. You’ve got to be sneaky, if you’re going for the top. And since he doesn’t like anyone on the Inazuma Japan team, after he’s done making himself better than everyone else, he enjoys lurking around and learning deep dark secrets about everyone to use as leverage or just for kicks. He pulls Tachimukai aside once, much to the goalie’s chagrin, and repeats verbatim exactly what he heard Tsunami say behind closed doors until Tachimukai blushes so hard Fudou is sure he’ll faint and begs Fudou not to tell anyone. He finds out little bits for everyone here and there and commits them to memory; of course, Endou’s too obsessed with soccer to really have anything really interesting to hold against him. But all in due time.
And just because he’s so damn sneaky, when he sees Tobitaka’s signature yellow pocket comb lying next to his bag one day before practice, his practiced nifty fingers snatch it up out of spite before anyone can catch him (because he doesn’t like anyone on the team, not because anything. happened. or. anything.). Fudou knows for a fact, like everyone else does, that Tobitaka’s got a terrible unconscious habit of grooming that hawk of hair so taking away the key instrument would really throw a wrench in that idiot’s day. It fills Fudou up with glee. He lives for things like this.
He’s got to play it cool and act like nothing happens so he begins practice with his daily routine of mocking Kidou. Kidou’s becoming used to his jabs about soccer so Fudou ups the ante by making some personal comments (“How’s the siscon going, Kidou-kun?”) He keeps his post at the outskirts of plays, now waiting to see Tobitaka’s reactions. It’s too bad the punk’s gotten somewhat better than before and doesn’t mess up as often. Still, after a near miss, Tobitaka reaches into his pocket and Fudou almost can’t help himself.
Tobitaka is so confused that his entire part of the field is disrupted and even Endou has to look up and say, “What’s wrong, Tobitaka?” Tobitaka empties both pockets and looks frantic for a moment before hastily fixing his coif with his hands. The move is so clumsy it actually stalls practice for a few minutes and Fudou thinks he might burst if he has to hold his laughter in any more. The missing comb is so perturbing that it throws Tobitaka off and actually instigates his habit even more - a vicious cycle Fudou is proud to call his own doing.
During break, Fudou watches inconspicuously as Tobitaki searches through his own belongings with a deeper frown on his face than usual. When Endou hears of his, he joins in and they both run around like idiots looking for a cheap plastic comb. Fudou runs his fingers over the teeth of the comb in his pocket; it’s not much, but this little convenient store product welds an unexpected amount of power.
(“You’re hard,” Fudou notices, smirking with lips red and wet from kissing, and reaches over and palms Tobitaka’s crotch. The pressure he feels in his hand strokes his ego; he has this kind of effect on people. Tobitaka hisses, but doesn’t shy away, still looming over Fudou on his desk - cause that’s what he does, he just goes into people’s rooms and invades their personal space and annoys them when he wants, except they usually don’t advance on him and attack him like Tobitaka.
“So’re you,” Tobitaka says lowly, returning the favor and stroking through the shorts. It makes Fudou’s knees tremble - something he’s never experienced before, one’s knees simply do not shake in fear - and a low heat settle in his stomach.)
Tobitaka’s hawk coif (“Moose,” Kogure whispers whenever Tobitaka is out of earshot.) is always perfectly done and does not actually need any primping contrary to its owner’s opinion, so it still looks nice and done up but Tobitaka has started a nervous twitch at not being able to fix it constantly. His fingers can only do so much. Fudou stares as Tobitaka actually considers his fork before lunch.
“You’re gonna eat that?” Fudou asks, as the fork is halfway through the air to the hawk coif. Tobitaka looks at him and has the decency of looking embarrassed. Fudou cackles and finishes his food.
By dinner, Tobitaka is a nervous wreck; his hands are shaking and he looks strung up. Aki graciously offers her brush in the comb’s stead, but it’s not the same and not many of the boys carry combs with them in the first place (Gouenji’s hair is naturally like that and surprisingly Kazemaru needs very little to style his long hair). Now, while Fudou is mean and scheming and he’ll admit that freely, he’s also merciful because when you’re powerful, mercy is a good tactic to make people do what you want. So before dinner, he taps Tobitaka on the shoulder and leans in and says, “I think I’ve got what you want. Meet me in my room.”
(Tobitaka’s surprisingly wonderful with his hands, despite his infamy for his talent in kicking; probably because cooks need to be good with their hands? Fudou doesn’t spend much time thinking about this: he thinks about Tobitaka’s hand on his cock, rubbing it in all the right places and fuck it feels good. One hand is on Tobitaka’s shoulder and if he had a little bit more strength he’d move it to strangle the bastard and one hand steadying himself on the desk and oh fuck fuck fuck.)
Tobitaka is quick witted: “You stole that,” he says flatly when Fudou pulls the comb out of his pocket in his room.
“That pomp must be hiding quite the brain,” Fudou replies scathingly, waving the comb around. “You should have seen what my having this did to you. Twitchy as fuck.”
“Give it back,” Tobitaka says.
“You don’t order me around,” Fudou snaps, gripping the comb. He remembers to take a breath before he really gets angry. “What should I make you do before you can get this back?” he taunts. He smirks at Tobitaka’s predictable reaction. “Your addiction to this comb should be addressed.”
Habits are hard to control, and control usually means a chockfull of pent-up energy. Tobitaka comes at him with a glare in his eyes.
(“You came,” Tobitaka says, stating the obvious with a handful of cum and a flushed, grumbling Fudou in front of him.)
Tobitaka grabs his wrist so violently it hurts and Fudou accidentally drops the comb, which falls with a plastic clatter to the floor. He’s about to swear when Tobitaka comes in and bites his lip and Fudou fighting back until he thinks he can taste blood. Tobitaka’s shaking, but he’s hard, and Fudou can see it through his clothing. Fudou remembers the swell he felt in his hand and somehow it excites him.
“Don’t do that again,” Tobitaka threatens. The band is about to snap, Fudou can tell, and one more might end with him being ravished right on this floor because the beds are too damn squeaky. He feels the vibrations in the air and tastes them with his tongue.
“Or what?” Fudou challenges, and digs his fingers into Tobitaka’s hair.
HAWKSHIPPINGGGGGGG how I ship this like crazy, thanks much to dreaminginside for helping me come up with the name!
Title: Payback
Fandom: Inazuma Eleven
Pairing: Tobitaka/Fudou
Warnings: sexual activity, m/m
Summary: An eye for an eye, a tooth from the comb.
If you asked Fudou Akio if he considers himself friends with anyone on the Inazuma Japan team - regulars or reserves - he would scoff and call your mother nasty names and question your intellectual prowess. If you asked Fudou Akio if he considers himself close with anyone on the Inazuma Japan team - well, you’d better forget asking anything else because he’d go for your neck first. He is above such silly things, especially relations with any sort of person that can reduce him to a blubbering, cursing mess with a fierce, unexpected kiss. And if any such thing were to happen, he’d tell you he definitely beat such a person to an inch of his life for that, not that he kissed back with such a fervor they were both flushed and panting. Also it didn’t happen.
If there’s anything Fudou prides himself on most, it’s his sneakiness. He’s the best at it. You’ve got to be sneaky, if you’re going for the top. And since he doesn’t like anyone on the Inazuma Japan team, after he’s done making himself better than everyone else, he enjoys lurking around and learning deep dark secrets about everyone to use as leverage or just for kicks. He pulls Tachimukai aside once, much to the goalie’s chagrin, and repeats verbatim exactly what he heard Tsunami say behind closed doors until Tachimukai blushes so hard Fudou is sure he’ll faint and begs Fudou not to tell anyone. He finds out little bits for everyone here and there and commits them to memory; of course, Endou’s too obsessed with soccer to really have anything really interesting to hold against him. But all in due time.
And just because he’s so damn sneaky, when he sees Tobitaka’s signature yellow pocket comb lying next to his bag one day before practice, his practiced nifty fingers snatch it up out of spite before anyone can catch him (because he doesn’t like anyone on the team, not because anything. happened. or. anything.). Fudou knows for a fact, like everyone else does, that Tobitaka’s got a terrible unconscious habit of grooming that hawk of hair so taking away the key instrument would really throw a wrench in that idiot’s day. It fills Fudou up with glee. He lives for things like this.
He’s got to play it cool and act like nothing happens so he begins practice with his daily routine of mocking Kidou. Kidou’s becoming used to his jabs about soccer so Fudou ups the ante by making some personal comments (“How’s the siscon going, Kidou-kun?”) He keeps his post at the outskirts of plays, now waiting to see Tobitaka’s reactions. It’s too bad the punk’s gotten somewhat better than before and doesn’t mess up as often. Still, after a near miss, Tobitaka reaches into his pocket and Fudou almost can’t help himself.
Tobitaka is so confused that his entire part of the field is disrupted and even Endou has to look up and say, “What’s wrong, Tobitaka?” Tobitaka empties both pockets and looks frantic for a moment before hastily fixing his coif with his hands. The move is so clumsy it actually stalls practice for a few minutes and Fudou thinks he might burst if he has to hold his laughter in any more. The missing comb is so perturbing that it throws Tobitaka off and actually instigates his habit even more - a vicious cycle Fudou is proud to call his own doing.
During break, Fudou watches inconspicuously as Tobitaki searches through his own belongings with a deeper frown on his face than usual. When Endou hears of his, he joins in and they both run around like idiots looking for a cheap plastic comb. Fudou runs his fingers over the teeth of the comb in his pocket; it’s not much, but this little convenient store product welds an unexpected amount of power.
(“You’re hard,” Fudou notices, smirking with lips red and wet from kissing, and reaches over and palms Tobitaka’s crotch. The pressure he feels in his hand strokes his ego; he has this kind of effect on people. Tobitaka hisses, but doesn’t shy away, still looming over Fudou on his desk - cause that’s what he does, he just goes into people’s rooms and invades their personal space and annoys them when he wants, except they usually don’t advance on him and attack him like Tobitaka.
“So’re you,” Tobitaka says lowly, returning the favor and stroking through the shorts. It makes Fudou’s knees tremble - something he’s never experienced before, one’s knees simply do not shake in fear - and a low heat settle in his stomach.)
Tobitaka’s hawk coif (“Moose,” Kogure whispers whenever Tobitaka is out of earshot.) is always perfectly done and does not actually need any primping contrary to its owner’s opinion, so it still looks nice and done up but Tobitaka has started a nervous twitch at not being able to fix it constantly. His fingers can only do so much. Fudou stares as Tobitaka actually considers his fork before lunch.
“You’re gonna eat that?” Fudou asks, as the fork is halfway through the air to the hawk coif. Tobitaka looks at him and has the decency of looking embarrassed. Fudou cackles and finishes his food.
By dinner, Tobitaka is a nervous wreck; his hands are shaking and he looks strung up. Aki graciously offers her brush in the comb’s stead, but it’s not the same and not many of the boys carry combs with them in the first place (Gouenji’s hair is naturally like that and surprisingly Kazemaru needs very little to style his long hair). Now, while Fudou is mean and scheming and he’ll admit that freely, he’s also merciful because when you’re powerful, mercy is a good tactic to make people do what you want. So before dinner, he taps Tobitaka on the shoulder and leans in and says, “I think I’ve got what you want. Meet me in my room.”
(Tobitaka’s surprisingly wonderful with his hands, despite his infamy for his talent in kicking; probably because cooks need to be good with their hands? Fudou doesn’t spend much time thinking about this: he thinks about Tobitaka’s hand on his cock, rubbing it in all the right places and fuck it feels good. One hand is on Tobitaka’s shoulder and if he had a little bit more strength he’d move it to strangle the bastard and one hand steadying himself on the desk and oh fuck fuck fuck.)
Tobitaka is quick witted: “You stole that,” he says flatly when Fudou pulls the comb out of his pocket in his room.
“That pomp must be hiding quite the brain,” Fudou replies scathingly, waving the comb around. “You should have seen what my having this did to you. Twitchy as fuck.”
“Give it back,” Tobitaka says.
“You don’t order me around,” Fudou snaps, gripping the comb. He remembers to take a breath before he really gets angry. “What should I make you do before you can get this back?” he taunts. He smirks at Tobitaka’s predictable reaction. “Your addiction to this comb should be addressed.”
Habits are hard to control, and control usually means a chockfull of pent-up energy. Tobitaka comes at him with a glare in his eyes.
(“You came,” Tobitaka says, stating the obvious with a handful of cum and a flushed, grumbling Fudou in front of him.)
Tobitaka grabs his wrist so violently it hurts and Fudou accidentally drops the comb, which falls with a plastic clatter to the floor. He’s about to swear when Tobitaka comes in and bites his lip and Fudou fighting back until he thinks he can taste blood. Tobitaka’s shaking, but he’s hard, and Fudou can see it through his clothing. Fudou remembers the swell he felt in his hand and somehow it excites him.
“Don’t do that again,” Tobitaka threatens. The band is about to snap, Fudou can tell, and one more might end with him being ravished right on this floor because the beds are too damn squeaky. He feels the vibrations in the air and tastes them with his tongue.
“Or what?” Fudou challenges, and digs his fingers into Tobitaka’s hair.