#tokyometronetwork

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 18. behind closed doors

chapter tags/warnings: mentions of sex. infidelity/adultery. misogynistic! naoya. manipulative undertones. strong language. classism. heavy angst.

word count: 3.2k

notes: there was a lot dished out in the last chapter, aha! i promise that the storyline's background will get elaborated on in the following chapters. also, this chapter is posted just as jjk season 2 is on schedule for release! so excited to see our man toji and the iconic sashisu trio in full action. likes, comments, and reblogs are deeply appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

“Leave me alone, woman!”   

Those were Naoya’s words as he pushed you aside from the foyer, beyond aggravated that—on the one evening he sought a reprieve from his apartment—you followed him to the door, interrogating him on his whereabouts. In his honest opinion, you had no business sticking your nose into his personal matters.  

He thought he had made his intentions clear that other night, when you first confronted him about his infidelity: that there was no love in his marriage with you, that he had long promised his heart to someone else, and—the most important bit—that he would not meddle into your affairs so long as you did not meddle with his.  

These past few weeks, he had completed his part of the promise. At the very least, you should give him credit for the many evenings he spent pounding his thick semen deep into your warm core, ensuring that not a drip would be wasted.

The thought may have been in vain, but you were sure that you were winning your husband back. 

Sure, Naoya Zenin was by no means a big cuddler. Instead, he was the type to mumble a terse ‘good night’ after he had gotten his own orgasm, tossing over to his side of the bed as he slapped your thighs one last time. 

But tonight was when you realized that Naoya had never changed at all. 

With nothing but a nightgown, you chased after his fast paces. “Then, will you be home in the morn—” 

“Know your place before you speak,” he countered impatiently, not showing the slightest worry for the way your lower lip trembled. With great irritation, he ignored your frozen form, departing with one last comment that inflicted a thousand times more pain than any physical wound: “In the Zenin household, all you are is a fucking ornament.”  

In other words: pretty, nice, and ultimately useless.  

Which is how you ended up suffering alone, all the bottled-up torment gushing out the very moment Naoya disappeared past the front door. 

Truthfully, you were not sure how long you had been sobbing, shaking, and crying. As the tears that blurred your vision cleared into a puddle by your feet, you stared into a nearby mirror reflection. Sorrow etched into your features: vibrant eyes now dull and cheeks with remnants of cascading tears.

What did you do to deserve this? 

Was this because you were the homewrecker to begin with? Was this your punishment for marrying a man who had already promised himself to someone else, for hindering the romance between your husband and his true lover? 

Naoya’s secret girlfriend, not his lawfully wedded wife, was whose existence had carved a special place in his heart. But you?    

No, you were just his toy, a ragdoll to be tossed to the side once he was done and tired. 

If only you weren’t so selfless. Your life would have been easier if you cared less about being a people pleaser and instead prioritized your mental well-being. 

But Naoya had made a point. His father Naobito and your father Daisuke had spent months arranging the marriage details, determined to solidify the relations between two of Japan’s most influential households.  

‘We wouldn’t want them finding out about our part-time flings, now would we?’ 

Weeks later, these words from your husband still echoed fresh in your head. Naoya was right, he and you were married for a reason. Although he had long been devoted to another woman and you had secretly indulged in various extramarital ventures, your vows to each other had been pledged in a ceremony that graced television screens and magazine covers. Renouncing the marriage and subsequently disclosing the reasons would not only leave you both falling from grace but also begin an ugly feud between families too powerful and dignified to see themselves lose. 

At this point, there seemed to be no solution to your marriage, nor did you desire one.

With this, anyone could tell you desperately needed someone who would listen to your anguished thoughts. You needed someone who would empathize with your frustration and your sentiments. You needed a therapist.  

Perhaps...a sex therapist.

Suddenly, you remembered. Mind in auto-pilot, you traveled toward the unit's walk-in closet, connected to the master bedroom from the side. With so many handbags on display, you nearly forgot about this one Goyard tote placed toward the bottom had it not been for the very important business card you had left inside. 

You rummaged through the purse and fished a thick black badge from an inner pocket.   

Dr. Toji Fushiguro.   

Delicately, your fingers traced the name etched in graceful and golden strokes, seemingly flowing over the card’s sleek surface. Your last encounter with Toji, that one evening in Teyvat, didn’t end prettily. How you now wished to apologize to him, to tell him that he was right, that he had always been right—about how you had deserved better, about how Naoya could never truly like you, and about how you should have been considering a divorce long ago.  

When the scattered light from above played upon the card, your eyes were drawn to the embossed numbers below his office’s address.    

What if...you called him? 

No, you really shouldn’t. Toji could not be burdened with your internal agony. Not at this late night hour.

But if your own therapist Toji wasn’t the one to talk to, then who would that be?    

You abhorred how you were alone with your thoughts and, surely, no one else—not your father, and definitely not your husband—would want to deal with your emotional turmoil. 

So, you decided.  

Grabbing your phone from the tabletop, you dialed the number, the sound of each digit pressing against the screen echoing in the quiet room and your nerves dancing in tandem with anticipation as the phone started to ring.  

What if Toji didn’t want to talk to you anymore? Besides, you did just depart suddenly and angrily the last time you had seen him. Honestly, you could still back out from this call if you wanted to. Maybe the better decision would be to sit in your own discomfort and try to figure out the solution yourself rather than— 

“Good evening, you have reached Dr. Toji Fushiguro’s line after hours. How may I help you?” 

Wait, who was this? 

For a moment, panic crashed upon you. Interacting with strangers was never your strong suit, but there was a familiarity to the enigmatic timbre that hummed on the other line. The first and last time you dialed Toji’s number, his son had picked up, giving your call a very awkward start. Whoever picked up this time was not the teenage boy, however, and you pursed your lips in an attempt to identify the mystery man.    

“Geto...?” you murmured when the realization struck.  

Upon recognizing your voice, the said man paused briefly, likely surprised to hear from you but moreso bothered at the shakiness in your tone. 

“Hey, are you alright?” 

“Can you please,” and you stopped. 

With floodgates bursting, you melted onto the floor with a choked sob, clutching your nightgown to ground yourself. Gosh, you had to stop sniffling if you ever wanted to finish your sentence. What a mess you were, your syllables punctuated with shaky inhales. 

“Can I please talk to Toji?” 

When the line fell silent once more, your heart raced. Only when the words fell from your mouth did you realize how offensive you may have sounded. After all, Geto had mentioned that Toji was off the clock, and what was wrong with confiding in him? 

“Sorry!” you half-yelped and half-choked, grateful that no one else could see the tears streaming down your cheeks. “Sorry, Geto! I’m certain that you’re a wonderful therapist too and would be an amazing person to talk to, but—“   

“Send me your address. I’ll pick you up shortly.” 

And Geto was true to his word.  

Within fifteen minutes, a Porsche Cayman turned into your street, the vehicle’s yellow exterior gleaming from the street lamps before slowing to a stop not too far from your apartment building’s entryway.    

From the curb, you could peer inside from the windows, seeing Geto in the driver’s seat. He slicked his long hair back, the strands bunched up with an elastic with stray tufts resting behind his neck. He smoothed his top—a Hawaiian shirt with pink pineapple prints (just how many button-ups like these did he have?)—and rolled his window down completely.

Geto threw one arm out to greet you with a wave and then, with his chin, gestured toward the empty shotgun seat.  

“Get in.” 

Compliant, you wrapped around the bumper before getting inside. The interior was a creamy leather, leaving you to sink into the material that wrapped around your weight like warm water. 

The moment your seatbelt clicked into place, you were suddenly pulled toward the side in one swift motion as Geto tucked his fingers below your chin and lifted your head.  

His lips.

Upon turning towards him, the first thing on Suguru Geto that drew your attention was his lips. Plush. Smooth. Lightly parted as though they invited you to explore the mischief within. 

A dangerous expedition, that would be.

You realized you had never seen Geto up close before, mere centimeters from him such that his breaths fanned hotly across your cupid’s bow. He had a nice jawline too, not to mention defined cheekbones that blessed him with strong features rolling against his softer angles. When an unexpected glint caught you off-guard, your gaze shifted to the silver piercings that adorned each brow. Edgy. You liked how the metal accentuated his natural arches, shining when headlights from passing cars shone into the vehicle.  

When he blinked, you then turned to his eyes, and goodness—you met the most intense inky pools that could ever peer into your soul.

How long had he been looking at you like that? Why did he look at you like that? With those insanely dark depths that swam with so much curiosity that you almost wished you hadn’t looked at him to begin with.

Almost. Almost wished.   

Thankfully (or not), Geto averted his gaze first. He inspected you instead, gently wiping at a small black-tinted streak near your chin, his brows pinching as concern tugged his handsome features.  

“Been crying?” Geto prodded. Of course, he noticed the glassy film that shone on your pretty eyes, the puffiness that dabbed your warm cheeks. When you did not immediately reply, he brushed a warm thumb over your lower jaw. “Listen, cupcake. You may not know this about me but...” he paused, the usual glimmer in his sharp eyes darkening into a chilling stare. “...whoever did this to you, I will fuck them up.” 

At his offer, you forced a sad smile. 

“Nobody,” you lied. Geto had already had taken the time to comfort you with his presence at such a late hour, and he could not be burdened with the pitiful details involving your marriage. “Just some personal stress with—” 

“It was Naoya, wasn’t it?” 

Just hearing your husband’s name left you frozen, your heart suffocating in pain. “Was...it obvious?”  

As the man clicked his tongue, he brought his hand up again. He brushed a few strands away from your face, tucking them loosely behind your ear with lithe and tattooed fingers, your earrings swaying softly with the movement.  

“I see lonely eyes like yours more often than I’d like,” he explained, expression sullen.

While you had once registered Geto as outrageous and unscrupulous upon your first encounter, you were starting to realize that he was—in fact—incredibly empathetic. 

"You do?" you asked quietly.

At the question, he pushed his lips to one side and sat up straight, placing his hands on the steering wheel so that he could idly drum his fingertips on the surface.  

“Everywhere. I see those hopeless and confused gazes everywhere,” and his tone was melancholic as he started a list, “Clients in sex therapy because their partners can’t satisfy them, clients in sex therapy even if their partners  can  satisfy them. Don’t even get me started on some unfortunate patients I’ve seen from the hospital’s OBGYN department when I work there.”  

Given Geto’s carefree nature, you had forgotten that he had mentioned his work in the medical field before, and you let silence hang in the air while you quietly contemplated the emotions Geto must encounter as a practitioner across various disciplines. 

Noticing the resulting sigh from your lips, Geto relented. He really wasn’t the type to poke his nose into other people’s business, anyway. 

“Listen, you don’t have to say more if you don’t want to,” he offered, easing the silence by re-adjusting his rearview mirror. “I get that. I respect your privacy.” 

When the engine rumbled to a start again, you peered over your shoulder. “Then, where are we going?” 

After such a somber discussion not long ago, Geto’s lips twitched upward, appreciating how comical you could be. 

What a silly question, he must have thought.  

“To the one man who can understand your situation better than anybody.” With his left hand, Geto signaled right to pull away from the sidewalk, his indicators blinking against the road. "You were the one who wanted to see him, no?"

You twiddled with the wedding band on your finger, a habit you have yet to drop. "I thought Toji wasn't working now."

"He's not. Usually, I'd handle any late-night emergencies for him, but I'll take you to his place instead."

"Oh." That did not make you any less anxious. "So, he knows I'm coming over then?"

"Nope," the therapist answered curtly, and he popped the 'p' in his response. "But, you know, just for you," and Geto shot you one last wink, "he would do anything."

Toji was not the 'broke motherfucker' that Sukuna had once made him out to be. 

What broke motherfucker lived among Tokyo’s tallest residential skyscrapers?  

As the Porsche slowed upon arrival, you craned your neck to gaze at the colossal structure, which was no normal residential building for Japan’s middle or lower classes. Rather, this was an extravagant premise clearly tailored for—not even the nouveau riche—but for the descendants from old, old money.

While Geto pulled into the entrance's porte cochère, y ou had to ask, "This is where Toji lives?" 

How his colleague was able to afford such a luxury in the Minato Ward, the most expensive neighborhood in not only the Japanese capital but also the entire country, was beyond your knowledge. You glanced over at the vehicle's infotainment system at the center, which—according to Google Maps—indicated in bold lettering that your destination was, in fact, to the left.  

You glanced up again, the high rise making you feel like an ant in Disneyland. "Sure you didn't take me to the wrong address?" 

Shifting the gear to park, Geto nodded assuredly. "A hundred and ten percent positive."  

"But then," you turned toward him in your seat, "Sukuna called Toji broke? Toji could not afford this if he was broke." 

At first, Geto lifted a brow in confusion. But as the words sank in, his fingers traced along the wheel as he chuckled. "Ah, that. Toji just isn't where he could possibly be." 

"Could possibly be?" you repeated. 

He hummed, looking ahead. "Longest story, honey.” He sat back in his seat, toying with his man bun in thought. "Shouldn't be a tale for me to tell anyway."  

Your mind might have buzzed with curiosity, but you conceded. Whether Toji wanted to reveal his private matters was not something for his colleague to decide. 

"Look," Geto pointed beyond the shotgun seat window, "the footman's here." 

Following the direction of his gaze, you glanced behind you to see someone approaching the car. With white-gloved hands, the attendant opened the door in one controlled swing, waiting patiently and wordlessly for you to disembark. Half-expectantly, you waited for Geto to get off as well, but he shook his head.

"I can't stay here," he informed and pointed to a nearby signage. "I can only drop you off because I can't leave my car here for too long. Besides, I've got plans." 

"You do?" That should not surprise you. Didn't Sukuna mention that Geto had something going on with, what was her name again, Shoko? Wasn't she, like, his girlfriend or—

“Work,” he replied, reminding you that he was the therapist on call tonight. He then turned to the footman beyond the door, ducking slightly so that he could catch the escort's gaze. “This young lady is here for the Fushiguro residence.”  

“Of course.” The footman offered a warm grin, stepping back to gesture you inside. “Right this way, Mrs. Fushiguro.” 

Mrs. Fushiguro?!  

The misplaced designation really shouldn’t have caused your heart to flutter as much as that did, but you could feel your entire body grow warm, hoping that no one could notice how you broke into a flustered sweat. 

“Ah, I’m not—”  

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Geto interrupted with an impish smile, his eyes crinkled into mischievous half-moons. Oh, he found this funny, didn’t he? He tipped his head to the side, and he waved. “Have a wonderful evening.”  

“Hey! I—” How dare Geto leave you like this? 

Yet, with the footman already heading back inside, you could not finish berating him, instead focused on scurrying after the steward’s long strides like a squirrel.  

Once at the entrance, the heavy glass doors parted automatically, and the lobby inside must be a whole other world. Fresh blooms nearby welcomed you with their sweet perfume as a staff member behind the concierge desk acknowledged your presence with a slight nod, a gesture you shyly returned. Meanwhile, the marble floors clicked to your footsteps as scones along the walls washed the vicinity with cozy hues, plush armchairs to the side offering a small sanctuary. Living amongst such splendor yourself, the sheer elegance in this space was not anything new, but what you were marveled by was the fact that the Toji Fushiguro lived here? In this very building?!

“The elevators are over there, madam,” the footman called when he must have noticed your stupor. 

You blinked rapidly, otherwise not noticing that you were headed in the wrong direction. “Oh.”  

He led you down one grandeur hall, scanning a card at various security checkpoints to allow you through. Upon reaching the elevator bank, he pressed a button at the dispatch screen, and the rightmost door opened with a number on a dashboard indicating that the lift was headed to the forty-ninth floor.  

Upon yourself stepping in, the doors slid to a close and offered one last view of the footman who had angled himself into a bow.

It was ridiculous how skittish you were as the elevator ascended, the Mozart tune from the overhead speakers doing little to calm your nerves. When the doors reopened a little less than a minute later, you were introduced to another warmly-lit corridor. The passageway itself had a design similar to the lobby floor except with one large abstract artwork centered across the elevators. 

At an incredibly slow pace, you neared the only door on the floor, the entrance’s deep dark mahogany surface looming over your much smaller presence. There was no turning back now, and you pushed the small glowing button at the side.   

There was no response. 

Of course, there wouldn’t be. You had only rung the bell ten seconds ago, but anticipation rushed to your fingertips. While holding your breath, you turned to your clicking heels.

You battled your body’s thrumming desire to flee and, just as the seconds seemed to stretch into hours, the door finally cracked open.  

Your gaze shot up.  

On the other side, Toji stood—silent and stunned. There were a million questions that you caught running across his murky emerald eyes, but a much-needed sense of relief embraced you as you met his familiar, comforting gaze, tears welling up at your lashes all over again.   

“Can...we talk?”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Unrelated, but I've recently started my full-time job! Balancing my personal and health priorities along with my work has been challenging, but I've made a point to still work on my fics as writing and interacting with my readers (you!) genuinely makes me happy. Sending love and hugs to you all.

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @hinativity @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @piqer @nobody289x @chaoticjojofan​ @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @moodpi @blackdragoncigarette @puffaloxx @tokyometronetwork​ @downtown-roponggi​ @the-cosmos-network

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk smut #jjk season 2 #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #naoya x reader #naoya x y/n #naoya x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #suguru x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #toji #naoya #geto #sukuna #choso #anime #anime fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #tokyometronetwork #downtownroppongi #jamms.sextherapy

[bokutosmochi]

HOW THEY PUNISH YOU

what's it? smut allergen warning/s? edging, thigh-riding, degradation, impact-play, spitting, oral-fixation, choking, name-calling, multiple-orgasms, oral f!receiving, overstimulation. most of these are for toji, rip. sugar level? 0.7k names for the order? gojo satoru, fushiguro toji, nanami kento, sukuna ryomen regulars? @hanayanetwork​

GOJO SATORU: edges and teases you until you're crying and begging for him.

"aww, c'mon angel, you can do better than that, can you? you were so good at grinding on me earlier. where's all that spunk now?" he pouted down at you trying to get yourself off on his thigh. his hair was down and he had his hands behind his neck, not helping you along at all. "'toru, please. want it so bad." bless him, he finally took pity on your sobbing form and started to flex the thick muscle, making it move up and down and grazing your clit. you lost your balance, plopping down onto his waiting chest as he was sat up against the headboard. you took advantage of the situation, rubbing yourself against him and panting, mouth wide open, breaths coming in and out rapidly. and there you were, so, so close, but before you could actually tip over the edge, gojo was holding you by the waist and halted your movements. "ah, ah, ah, not so fast."

FUSHIGURO TOJI: degrades you to filth, as if you are nothing to him.

he slaps you across the face once more before grabbing it and spitting on the corner of your lips, his thumb works to spread it all over it then pops into your mouth. you suck at it and run your tongue around the appendage while your hips subconsciously juts up to grind yourself against him, legs wrapped around his waist. the hand that used to be on the bed carrying his weight transfers itself to your neck, squeezing tightly, just the way you like it. "you're such a fucking whore." he hisses out at you. not that you mind it, not that you can even comprehend it because all it does is make you even wetter -- something he knows all too well because he can feel how your panties dampen at his harsh words. "no good cock hungry slut. it's a good thing that cunt of yours is heavenly or else you'd be worth nothing."

NANAMI KENTO: overstimulates you. makes you cum again and again.

"a-ah kento! t-too mu-ch!" you whimper out at the man who's head is buried between your legs, treating your clit like a fine wine as he works to coax out your fifth orgasm of the night, all from the talent of his mouth. and once again, he gets it out  of you. your toes curl and eyes roll into the back of your head, but he doesn't relent. he shows no signs of stopping. "no," he simply states, his tongue, wet with your cum, stops flicking at your clit, replaced with his thumb which rubs circles on it. three thick fingers covered in cream continue to thrust in and out of you. his voice was dominating and the bass of it makes your abused pussy quiver. "you wanted to be a brat, correct? this is what brats get." the best worst part of it is the fact that you know he's not done with you yet because nanami kento cannot resist burying his cock into your pussy.

SUKUNA RYOMEN: uses your cunt as if it's nothing but a fleshlight for him.

after making sure that you're wet enough to take him, he unceremoniously shoves his cock into your cunt, not even giving you any time to adjust to his sheer size. it brings tears to your eyes because it burns even if you were already sopping wet from his dirty walk. it doesn't seem like sukuna cared much though. he continued to thrust in and out, panting wildly above you, chasing his high and not caring about how you felt. he throws both of your legs over your his broad shoulders so he'd be able to shove his dick in further into your hole, yet he did not sacrifice speed nor strength. you knew your pubic bone as well as your thighs would ache tomorrow, but you couldn't get yourself to care. the way the tip of his cock easily brushes your cervix and the throbbing vein running alongside his shaft grazes your g-spot every time he fucks into you makes it so, so worth it.

i get: reblog

you get: a blue button down shirt

#hanaya network #tokyometronetwork #takipnet #order up for gojo! #order up for toji! #order up for nanami! #order up for sukuna! #one kona coffee mochi #with a side of pineapple italian ice #gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #toji #toji x reader #toji smut #nanami #nanami x reader #nanami smut #sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader

[bxd-decisions]

! RISOTTO NERO NSFW HEADCANONS

SYNOPSIS︙Just some self indulgent NSFW headcanons of Risotto Nero!

PAIRING︙Risotto Nero x AFAB!reader

GENRE︙headcanons, smut

WARNINGS︙smut, Dom!risotto, sub!reader, fem! bodied reader, oral sex (both recieving), BDSM, bondage, flogging, rough sex, unprotected sex, jealousy, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, fingering, size kink, degration, soft Dom!risotto

AUTHORS NOTE︙this was very self indulgent bye💀

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK APPRECIATED

Risotto is a large man. That being said, he is a monster in bed. He knows how to turn you into a babbling and weak mess under him.

Foreplay with him consists of mainly fingering and teasing. While he knows how to eat you out, he is way to impatient to do so.

Risotto will often drag you to a secluded spot in the hideout after a job and blow off steam by pinning you to a wall and fucking you senseless. He knows you'd never say no anyways.

In terms of giving oral sex, as said before, he is very impatient, but he has his sweet moments where he wants to go down on you. It's usually on your bad days when you're feeling bad.

His tongue game is fantastic to say the least. He knows your sensitive spots and he knows just where to lick and suck to turn you into a mess.

Risotto had a big dick. And it's a gorgeous sight to say the least. He's thick and heavy and long too, about 21cm. It takes lots of preparation for you to be able to take him and each time he give you good, almost painful stretch.

He loves to see you in lingerie, something about it just gets him going and he can't help but to rip apart the undergarments each time. Everytime he'll need to buy a new set because they're completely destroyed.

He is also heavily into BDSM. He loves to be the one to take control, and he loves to see you tied up and to his mercy. He thinks you look adorable under him when he rams his cock inside of you.

You can bet that he will have a flogger, since he is into BDSM he is definitely into flogging. But he will never ever purposefully hurt you with them. He just likes to tease you and rile you up with them.

Risotto doesn't have a favorite body part on you, he thinks every inch of your skin is impeccable and he loves to kiss single part of your body. He will never miss a spot.

As said, he has his times where he can be sweet, where he will show you how much he loves you through being intimate with you. He will hold you close and always whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he slowly and sensually ruts himself into you.

Risotto HATES to use condoms. It's a huge turn off for him. It's just not the same as when you take him raw. He loves to feel how wet you are and how you feel.

He will never ever let you be the one in charge. He likes to know he's in charge because he knows what to do and how to make you feel good. It's not that he doesn't think the same for you, the thought is just off putting for him.

He is also very jealous. He is very good at putting up a poker face and hiding that fact when he is around others, but in the moment when he is fucking you? He will degrade you and call you vile names all while telling you how you only belong to him, and him alone.

He once saw you getting a bit too close to Melone, hence the jealousy.

He lovessss to receive head. Especially when he is doing some work, he likes the thrill of you being under the table and sucking him off while he is busy with paper work.

Risotto is not very vocal, maybe he will let out very soft grunts when he close to his high, but other than that, he will be panting softly, or not make noise at all. He also loves to talk the most nastiest things while he is going on rough you, he loves the way you whimper and beg, he loves how pathetic you can be for him.

TAGS: @tokyometronetwork @benkeibear

#nora's writing #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #golden wind #jojo's bizzare adventure x reader #jjba x reader #golden wind x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure smut #jjba smut #golden wind smut #risotto nero #risotto #risotto nero x reader #risotto x reader #risotto nero smut #risotto smut #risotto nero headcanons #risotto headcanons #tokyometronetwork

[sweet-seishu]

anchor

rindou haitani x reader

warnings: fluff, comfort, reader just needs to have a good cry, short and sweet

a/n: a sweet nonnie asked me write something, and since i've been going through quite the rough patch lately i kind of self indulged :)

Rindou Haitani didn't know how to comfort people, he was the type to just tell them that it would be okay, and give them a small pat on the back. But when he saw you completely breaking down into tears after he got home from work, it hit him differently, and it hurt.

He didn't know how to react as he watched you wipe your tears from your face, only for new ones to fall. He didn't like seeing you like this, someone normally happy, always smiling was now completely broken in front of him.

What was he supposed to do, he just wanted to make it better, to see that pretty smile on your face.

Ran was usually better at this stuff, being the warmer of the two brothers, but you were Rindou's, and he knew he needed to do this himself.

"Y/n.." He said softly, standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom. "Are you okay?"

You hadn't even noticed he was standing there, he must have just got home from work. "Oh- rin! Yeah I'm okay, don't worry."

Don't worry.

You always said that to him, always made sure that he knew that you were okay, always giving him a smile and a peck on the lips.

But how many of those smiles were hiding that sadness you were showing now?

He slowly walked up to you, gently grabbing your face and holding it softly between his hands, making sure your eyes met his.

His heart broke at the sight.

Your eyes were completely rimmed red, a sign that you had been crying for a while. Tears were building up, falling down freely and hitting his hands as you looked at him, biting your lip so you could keep the sobs at bay.

Rindou has been beaten up, knocked unconscious and hurt so many times; but nothing could ever prepare him for the pain this brought him.

"Baby-" He started

You could only sob again, cutting him off as you tried to pry his hands from your face just so you could bury it into the pillow, but he wouldn't let you.

"Don't pull away from me, please." Rindou said softly.

"Rin I'll be okay, just need a moment." You whispered.

"You're obviously okay right now y/n, please let me help you." Rindou pleaded.

You could only cry more, holding onto his wrists as he watched you, not knowing what to say to make things better.

"I just-" You sobbed, hiccuping as you looked into his violet eyes. "Rin I don't- I just everything is so much, I try and be happy, try to make everyone around me smile and i- I'm just so tired."

Rindou only continued to stare at you, holding your face between his hands as he tried to thing of something he could say to you.

"Rin I promise I'll be okay, I just need to let it out and I'll be alright, just go order some food or someth-"

Rindou cut you off, pulling you into his chest as he held you tightly, his hand rubbing up and down your back. "If you need to let it out, then please let it out, but don't push me away. Wanna be here for you, want you to know that I'm always going to be."

"Rin-" You said quietly, gripping onto his shirt.

"I know I'm not the best with words, and to be honest I really don't know what to say to make it better, but I can offer you my shoulder cry on, soak my shirt with your tears, I don't care, just let me be a comfort for you.."

You couldn't hold it back after that, sobbing loudly into your boyfriend's chest as you held onto to him for dear life. Rindou didn't say much, only drawing lightly on your skin as he listened to your cries. His heart hurt for you, but he stayed as strong as he could for you, being the anchor you so clearly needed.

After about an hour your sobs finally calmed down, and your breathing was starting return to normal as you relaxed your hold on Rindou, but he tightened his hold on you, needing to be sure you were okay.

"Look at me for a second baby." Rin said softly. You moved slowly in his hold, looking up at him, the tear stains on your cheeks making him frown. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." You told him. "I think I just needed a good cry, it's been a while since I've had one.."

Rindou leaned down, pecking your lips softly. "I want you to know, that you never have to hide how you feel, I want you to tell me when you feel down okay? I want to be here for you, like you always are for me."

You smiled softly at his words. "You know Rin, for someone who claims he doesn't know how to comfort people, you're pretty good with your words." You kissed him again, placing your hand on his cheek. "Thank you, I love you."

"I love you to, I don't like seeing my pretty baby so sad." Rindou smiled.

"I'm sorry, for all of that."

"Don't you ever apologize for needing to let your feelings out you understand?" Rindou said sternly. "I'd rather you cry than keep it all bottled up, and I promise you that I will be here for you every single time. I'm your anchor y/n, and I'm always going to be."

network tag: @tokyometronetwork

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x you #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou #rindou #rindou haitani #rindou haitani fluff #tokyometronetwork #~katie writes○●

[musings-and-moans]

homewrecker

submission for: @cirigiri's The DILF List Collab (DILF #17 — the friend’s husband) AND for iwaizumi's birthday on the 10th of june. also, this is part 1, part 2 is coming out on the 21st, and part 3 during kinktober <3

features: friend's husband!hajime iwaizumi x mrs. oikawa!f!reader (afab!reader, uses she/her pronouns) | song: homewrecker - marina | wc: 4185 | part 2 | part 3

summary: while hajime iwaizumi is a highly successful athletic trainer, his marriage is in disarray. his wife ended up cheating on him even after having a son, kaito iwaizumi, when she went on a business trip to argentina; with his best buddy, tooru oikawa, of all people. he wasn't the only one who had been duped, though. so were you, tooru oikawa's wife, and with a daughter, melina jose oikawa. you remembered your pent-up sentiments for hajime while comforting each other, and things start to take a spicy turn. | visual inspiration: this artwork by @/novak.rouge on instagram (@beware-of-the-rogue the way you and ella have spoiled me xD) and serena mendoza is inspired by serena van der woodsen from gossip girl (yes i love that show gtfo my case lol /j /lh)

beta readers: @mrskenmakozume @sweetsbysatori (your inputs are so so valuable ilysm <333) | networks: @tokyometronetwork @hanayanetwork

brainstorming: @mxonigirimiya (this wouldn't have been possible without you so thank you so so much *sobs* <33)

content warnings: hq timeskip spoilers, themes of infidelity, suggestive tones, angst, hurt/comfort, usage of swear words (this is so not me lol, i just had a rough couple of days, and this is me venting lol), serena's called a bitch, paparazzi, mentions of body insecurity/dysmorphia (but not reader), the reader having symptoms of depression including having trouble with eating, mentions of consumption of alcohol, sexual tension, slightly dubcon (if you squint at the end) 'cause iwaizumi's speaking in a slurred voice, please lmk if i miss out on any tags

a/n: this took me a lot of while to come up with this lol, because it's writing about my kinnie in a bad light, but it's only for the sake of the plot y'all. but i honestly loved writing this, i'd been in a bad mood off late and i needed to vent out. also, please note that i don't ever condone cheating. as always, likes, comments & reblogs, especially reblogs are appreciated. also, minors please dni, i will block you.

9th May 2021. 7:00pm, San Juan, Argentina

The waves from the cerulean sea kissed your toes as you were sitting near the shoreline in Del Bono with your elbows on the clear sand. The incandescent moon shone light on your shimmery silver dress and sand-covered feet which had become sore after running away from the izakaya after one of your colleagues shared the news where you learned that your husband, the setter of Club Atletico San Juan, Tooru Oikawa, was rumored to have cheated on you with your best friend since university, Serena Mendoza. You heaved a long drawn sigh as you felt something punching your gut as you then sat up with your hands hugging your stomach, writhing in agony, and tears welling in your eyes. Your heart broke for your daughter, as you wondered whether she heard the news about her father, and wondered whether her classmates would eventually make fun of her. She was at no fault of this at all, but was unnecessarily caught in this crossfire. 

Wiping the tears from your waterline, for a moment you think about Serena, one of the richest, most popular and good looking girls at the University of California at Irvine, who became your best friend over your course of study at the university. She was regarded as one of the most beautiful girls in your university. Everyone wanted to be her, some wanted to be with her, and you, (Y/N) (L/N), having moved to the States from Japan, had considered yourself very lucky to befriend her. 

The day after you two graduated from uni, you two were lying on one of the sands of the California beaches. You let the sand below you cling to you as you wore a swimsuit with every inch of the fabric hugging your skin especially after you’d gone for a swim, while Serena wore her black V-neck one-piece swimsuit, her body and her long, wavy blonde locks basked in the glory of the sunshine, waiting for you to get back. As you two were lying down, soaking in the sun, Serena said, “You know something? Someday, it would be nice for us to get married to a pair of best friends, wouldn’t it?” As the water kisses your feet, you turn to Serena and add, “Famous best friends, maybe? And if we end up getting a high profile job too, someday we wouldn’t have to worry about our life, y’know? ‘Cause we’d be living a life of luxury,” chuckling amongst yourselves.

Boy, how you were wrong.

10th May 2021. 7:00am, Tokyo, Japan

“We now begin this special program with breaking news as we see clips showing the well known setter for the San Juan Volleyball Team, Tooru Oikawa, walking out of his hotel with someone other than his wife. Sources say…”

As Iwaizumi was told by Atsumu Miya, one of his athletes that he was training for the Olympics, to watch the news online through his iPad,  the world came to a standstill for him. He was beyond disbelief, seeing his wife and the mother of their son, as the mystery woman who was scuttling inside the hotel with Oikawa’s arm around her waist as he kissed her on her lips. He could make out that it was Serena through her blonde tresses, and the emerald earrings that he gave her for their anniversary.

“Haji,” he heard her calling for him once more, interrupting his train of thought, but the voice that once brought him joy now wrung his heart, causing him to be in profound agony. He turned in the direction of the gradually unfamiliar voice as he noticed Serena walking out of their bedroom in her work attire. She’d seen a little frantic, when she asked him, “Haji, where’s our son?” Furrowing his eyebrows at her, the athletic trainer responded, “That’s not something you needed to know,” then shrugged his shoulders to continue, “given that you don’t care for him anyway, but I’d already contacted my parents to take him in.” Serena widened her eyes in shock, raising her voice, “How dare you! He’s our son! How dare you make such decisions without consulting me?” 

Approaching her, Hajime confronted his wife, and replied, “Serena, you lost that right. Not when you chose to go to Buenos Aires for the trip. You lost the right to call me your husband and Kaito as our son, when you decided to fuck my best friend,” raising his voice at the end and pointing a finger towards her. Serena’s mouth gaped wide open as he told her, “Atsumu showed me the news. That bastard woke me up at 7am! I’m glad that he did though, because you cheated on me, and betrayed your best friend, by sleeping with my asshole of a best friend! Oh my god, do you have any idea what she must be going through?” In the midst of the long argument, initially she kept denying it, saying, “No, Haji, that’s so not true. I just met him and caught up with him. That’s all,” and she kept trying to change the topic, but fate wasn’t on her side as she got a ping on the phone from Oikawa. He snatched the phone from her and then saw a notification from the beguiling devil himself. As he opened the phone, the text gave him enough reasonable doubt to confirm his suspicions:

“Serena-chan, what are we gonna do? (Y/N)-chan hasn't seen the news yet, has Iwa-chan? How are we going to explain this without getting caught?”

His olive-green irises started seeing red, but instead of deciding to lash out at Serena, which even she expected, an idea sparked into his head. He took a deep breath and he then proceeded to dial your number. As you lifted the phone, he was met with your ragged breaths and sniffles, as you replied with a lump in your throat, “Hello, Iwaizumi?” For a moment, when he heard you, he felt your heart break along with his, but he knew he had to be strong for the both of you. 

He’d known you and Serena since the time you three studied together in Irvine. You and Iwaizumi did not have much in common, but you two were willing to be a part of each other’s interests. You two would watch Godzilla together while you would take him along with Serena out on a drive. Whether it was playing volleyball, playing in the arcade, or sipping on some horchata while gorging on some tacos, you loved to hang outdoors. You two slowly started to become thick as thieves, and you started to have feelings for him.

However, when he confessed one day that he had feelings for Serena, it caused your heart to break inside and you were a little jealous of her, but you had kept all the negativity aside, resigning yourself to thinking that he would never be interested in you to begin with. So, when Oikawa dropped by to visit Iwaizumi, the former ace introduced you to his childhood best friend who started shadowing his idol, the former setter-turned-coach Jose Blanco, when he joined the Club Atletico San Juan, one of the most popular teams in the Argentinian Volleyball Federation.

Tooru had once come across as smug initially, but he eventually captured your heart over you two having a lot more in common with each other, and you had similar experiences growing up. You two eventually fell in love with each other, and you and Tooru and Serena and Hajime got married on the same day. While Hajime and Serena worked in the States, the former gaining American citizenship, you had worked with Serena for a while, until you and Oikawa moved to Argentina, with him gaining Argentinian citizenship.

“Hi, it’s… been a while, hasn’t it?” Iwaizumi asked you, in a softer tone, causing Serena to open her mouth in shock. Taking a long drawn breath, you responded with a quivering voice, “It has, but it’s sad we’re talking under these circumstances.” He nodded, inquiring while Serena widened her eyes, “When did you find out?” Drooping your shoulders, you continued, “I was at an izakaya with my co-workers after we had a successful presentation. Before coming here, it felt really awkward. Many of my co-workers were giving me weird looks throughout the day, until some of them decided to treat me to a drink in the evening. You know that she and I decided to be colleagues in the American Volleyball Association where Kuroo-san referred us before I transferred to Argentina, right? So, I contacted my boss after knowing the news and he granted me permission to work from home. I’ve never done this, Iwa! I take pride in going to work everyday, and I just…” 

You couldn’t speak anymore because you’d started sobbing, smearing your makeup. Iwa repeatedly called your name to calm you down, while flashing his hand at Serena to stop her from walking towards him. Having gained your attention, you replied, “I don’t know what to do, I’m going to be booking a cab home as of now.” He then interrupted you by saying, “Before you do that, I think you need to call Oikawa. This needs to be talked about.” Your eyes widened as fear and anger gripped you, snarking, “wait, is that bitch here?” He hummed in response, causing you to respond, “you know what? Let’s do that. Also, please put the phone on speaker.” 

While Serena does not move an inch, Hajime put the phone in front of him and turned on the speaker, while side-eyeing at her. After a couple of minutes, a familiar voice was heard out loud. “Ola, mi amõr. What's up? Practice is wrapping up, so I’m on my way home. What do you want for dinner?” The whole room could sense that he was acting like nothing happened. Then you continued, “Tooru, I saw the news. I know that you’re having an affair with Serena.” An uncomfortable silence lingered in the room, before Oikawa breaks it, replying in an act of defiance, “Baby, it's not what it looks like,” when Hajime chimed in, exclaiming with seething rage, “So what is it then, Shittykawa, ‘cause it looks like you're all over my wife!” 

Serena then cried out, “Tooru, I did not tell him anything,” with you interrupting her, saying, “Shut up, bitch, no one wants to listen to you!” Tooru was shocked, and he softly replied, “Mi amor, can we talk about this by ourselves, at home? I’m so sorry–” Shaking your head, you retorted, “Nah. You’re only sorry that you got caught. So, either we can’t talk about it at all, or we can talk about it now since you decided to embarrass not just yourself, but all four of us on an international stage. Do you know how many weird looks I got today? Huh? I'd have to call my boss for some days off or to work from home, because paparazzi would probably be fucking hounding my office, putting my job at risk, so I'm at the beach, and I’ll be going back home now, and I’m sure the cameras have reached there too,” you shrug and raise your voice, continuing, “packing our bags, and taking Melina with me to Tokyo, where you’re not going to follow me, do you understand, Oikawa?” 

During this time, Oikawa gets a call from Jose Blanco, his coach, and Iwaizumi from Fuki Hibarida, the coach of the Japanese National Volleyball Team. Both of them were urged to put the phone via a conference call, where everyone was present. You muted your side of the call out of respect but didn't cut the call. Instead, you got up, rustled your dress, and booked a cab home. “Oikawa,” Blanco spoke first, “you’re our most important player in the team, so how is it that your dirty laundry is now aired?” Hibarida continued, “we’ve decided to arrange the conference call, because one, we know that you two have been friends growing up, so this better be fixed somehow, and two, the Olympics are on the way and we don’t want any bad press to affect our games. So, you two better fucking get it together or both of you're off your respective teams, because we're not going to risk our image by being associated with that mess.” Nodding with a single tear streaming down his cheek, Hajime responded, “We are so sorry, Hibarida-san and Blanco-san for all the chaos that’s been happening. I’ll be organizing a press conference tomorrow and come clean. I hope Oikawa does the same, because a lot is at stake here, including our friendship, which has already gone to the dogs. Have a good day, both of you.” 

When both of them hung up, you unmuted yourself and continued speaking, “I’m home now. I’m telling our daughter  that we’re taking an impromptu trip to her grandparents’ place, in Miyagi. Hajime, since our parents live nearby, why don’t you bring your son there?” With a soft smile on his face, he replied, “Already did that, (y/n). It will be nice for our kids to bond. Where will you be staying?” 

“I’ll be staying over at a friend’s place,” you continued, “We’ll be in touch, Haji. But before I hang up, I want to ask the both of you something. Tooru, what did she give you that I couldn't? Serena, what did he give you that Hajime couldn’t provide? What could have been so lacking in our respective marriages, that you, Tooru sought it out in not just any woman, but the wife of your best friend for almost 2 decades? The same question goes to you too, Serena.” Both of them sheepishly replied, “I don't know,” making both you and Iwaizumi even more furious. You then hung up and tried to find a way to collect your emotions and move out to a friend’s place with your daughter before you move back to Tokyo the next day.

On the following day, Hajime and Tooru organized a press conference at their respective places, and Tooru was the first to speak, “Good evening everyone. This press conference is being held to come clean and ensure that our Olympic game is not jeopardized. The rumors are true: I did have an affair with Iwaizumi's wife. All of us have known each other since college days, and Iwaizumi and I grew up together. So, this in no way excuses my actions, or our actions. We were drunk, we acted impulsively without thinking about the impact it would have on our partners We are sorry—not only to everyone we disappointed, but especially to our partners whom we betrayed in one of the most intimate ways. Having said that, it was a one time thing that never should have happened, and all we can do is ask for forgiveness,” half-lying in the end. Then Hajime continued, “Our families request privacy as we figure out how to move forward after this scandal. So, I hope that all of you will respect our decisions in this matter. And to those who are fans of the team and of the sport of volleyball, I request that this isolated incident should not affect your love for it at all. Above all, we’ll always be fans of the sport, no matter what. The press conference ends here.”

Days have passed since you moved out of Argentina back to Tokyo, and you and Hajime had told Serena and Tooru that you two were separating from the both of them. Upon reaching Tokyo, you’d contacted your childhood friend, Tetsuro Kuroo, who was now a sports promoter at the Japan Volleyball Association, who gave you a separate house to live in for a couple of days, and was even willing to refer you for a spot in the JVA, should you wanted to come back to work. You responded, saying that you would think it over. In the meantime, Iwaizumi moved out of the house and contacted his other best friends, Issei Matsukawa and Hanamaki Takahiro. “Bro, we’re really sorry that that happened and you can stay with either one of us,” Mattsun replied over the phone, “however, Oikawa was lying about one thing. It was not a one time thing, Iwaizumi. They’d been sleeping with each other even when you all were just dating.” Hajime felt a sinking feeling within him when he learnt of the dirty little secret.

Despite all the four settling with each other in different countries, Oikawa and Serena had a secret that neither Hajime nor you were aware of. Even though Tooru and Serena loved you two a lot, enough to want to start families  with the both of you, they loved each other differently. The secret glances they shared, the trips they would secretly take to meet each other, the marks they had to hide and everything else surrounding their years of tryst were oblivious to you two. They were never caught, except by some of his Argentinian friends who tried to convince him to stop the affair, until now. Mattsun had eventually learned of this the month before the press leak, when he ended up snooping through Oikawa’s phone when he’d come to Japan for some time before the Olympics. Mattsun told Makki and while the both of them confronted Oikawa and told him to inform Hajime, he said that he would, but since they knew that he wouldn’t, Makki left an anonymous tip to the press who started tracking them, hence the press leak. The day of the press leak, Oikawa lost his cool when he saw the only DM from Makki ‘cause they’d usually talk over the phone: “I hope you enjoy explaining your affair to the press, Oikawa :D”

The first few days went by very drearily, causing you to weep profusely. This affected you so much that it caused you to have sleepless nights and bouts of overeating and not eating at all. You were scared to go to work again so after a couple of days, you contacted your boss saying that you wanted to work from home until the situation died down. So, you started slowly gaining your energy back, and with employing a couple of self-care options, you were slowly feeling better yourself. This didn’t stop you from suddenly thinking about the whole situation without it constantly pricking you. You’d told Tooru that you wanted to be separated and you wanted time to think for yourself and the custody of your daughter. It was especially hard when you’d be in touch with your daughter and you were not able to say anything to her just yet. She may have your hair and your features but she had Tooru’s eyes, and it pained you to see her brown irises  and be reminded of him.

With Hajime, it was different. 

In any case, he kept to himself anyway. Nonetheless, people did still know him as an athletic trainer, and through a couple of viral videos of him working out, he was also referred to as a “DILF.” He never missed looking in the mirror since he started working out consciously and living a healthy lifestyle, and he was proud to see his muscle mass growing in the right places. As he raked his fingers through his hair, he would flex his biceps and admire the physique he was trying to build for himself. 

He was not ashamed of the way he looked. It may have bothered him that he was shorter than Tooru, but he was happy with how he lived. He was aware that Tooru was more popular with girls than he was. However, whenever Serena complimented him and told him that he still looked attractive and that she was lucky to be with him, he became much more at ease. But with her having cheated on him, he suddenly felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, realizing that she may have been lying. He suffered a significant blow to his self-confidence, not only as a partner but also as a parent and a person. The moments he felt like not working out, he would skip it, but would be chided by Mattsun, Makki, and you. 

Everyday you’d check in with Hajime to figure things out as to how you two would be able to cope with everything. You were able to convince one of your old friends who work in the grocery store to deliver the groceries to Hajime so he could avoid the paparazzi, and since Kuroo gets his groceries delivered anyway, you don't have to go out either. This wasn’t just to calm everything down, it's also to salvage your images because you didn’t want people to pity you as the left-behind partners. You two were much more than that. Because life had been kicking the both of you hard, while you two were occasional drinkers, your quantities eventually started increasing. You two somehow found a way to sneak to each other’s houses without garnering unwanted attention. Even if it was for a brief moment, you two indulged in a temporary escape with each other, ignoring the reality that was haunting the both of you. 

One day, at his house, when you two were watching a comedy movie while hogging on some popcorn together, while laughing, your hand subconsciously landed on his thigh and then your eyes turned to each other. Your heart started to beat faster as your eyes landed on his. Ragged breaths were echoed throughout the room, as he closed the laptop. As he was cupping your cheeks and drew your face closer, he asked you slowly, gentlemanly, “(y/n), can I please-” and as you were about to give in to the temptation, your phone buzzed causing you to jolt from your carnal trance as your daughter called you. Sensing that you needed time to think about all that just happened, you told him that you were leaving and that you’d meet him later. 

As you finish speaking with your daughter, while driving back home, your mind then lingers back to the first time when you first saw him at the university's recreation center, his dark brown, spiky hair caught your attention and then his green eyes which truly captured your attention. In discussing the intramural tournaments with him as you were interested in signing up, you found his toned figure attractive. You were standing at the registration desk when Serena grabbed your arm and whispered into your ear, “oooh, did you notice the dickprint on his shorts?  Because that looks so satisfying,” and you did notice a slight bulge in his shorts as you glanced over at him.

He seemed to get the memo when your gaze meets his, as he winked at you, making your cheeks flush as you parted ways. Ever since then, over the years, whenever you touched yourself, as your fingers ran over your clit, everyday, even when you were married to Tooru, you still kept thinking of Hajime as you imagined him calling you, “baby,” as he thrusted himself inside you. You were scared to tell Serena about how you felt for him because they told you individually, and out of respect for both of them, you kept your feelings aside and you genuinely started to like Tooru, but you couldn’t stop thinking of Hajime. How could you? You were truly in love with him.

9th June, 2021. 11:30pm

You realized that it was Hajime’s birthday coming soon, and no sooner did you think about him, than you were immediately reminded of the moment you two had shared when you two almost kissed each other, causing your cheeks to fluster. You’d wanted him for so long, but never got to act on the feelings, but that day, when your lips were about to meet, you realized that you haven’t had sex in so long. Your marriage with Oikawa had fallen apart at its seams, and while you had been thinking of getting back to him for your daughter, that moment with Hajime made you realize that you’d rather have the athletic trainer more than the setter.

Having then downed a few glasses of wine, and craving to be intimate with him, you put your lacy underwear under Hajime’s oversized volleyball shirt, turned on your vibrator, placed it over your clit, and felt the vibrations run through you. Initially, you moved the tip of the toy slowly up your entrance before you let it enter you, then you increase the speed. You were fondling yourself, bursting out in a series of moans when you heard a knock at your door. As you awoke for a brief moment and wondered what was happening, you kept the vibrator on your bedside table. You ran to the door, opening it with your eyes wide and shocked at who was there. The former ace mumbles in a slurred voice, picking you up as he wraps your legs around his waist. He takes your cheeks to bring you closer and begins to kiss you.

© Shyna 2022 - reposting on any other platform is not allowed. likes, comments, and especially reblogs are appreciated. (taglist in next rb)

#📃 the dilf list ! #tokyometronetwork #hanaya network #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer #haikyuu smut #haikyuu angst #hq hurt/comfort #tw dubcon #tw alcohol #mentions of body dysmorphia #tw depression #shy pens it out #let shy bite your lower lip

[shinigamiplayroom]

♡𝕀𝕥'𝕤 𝕀𝕥𝕥𝕠'𝕤 𝔹𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕕𝕒𝕪 ♡

☾ 18+ mdni | cw: slight somno, itto eating you like your his last meal, otherwise just unedited thirst fully wrote this with my pussy im not sorry.

☾ itto x afab!reader

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All I can think about is him waking up next to you. you look so peaceful and warm cuddled up against him. but it’s his birthday and he knows exactly what he wants. He’s already painfully hard looking down at your lips, already wet from the little bit of drool pooled at the corner or your mouth.

His mind running in circles like a dog off its leash about how good his cock fits so snug against your tongue. He’s getting restless. Can almost feel the blood rushing to his twitching length. He wants to taste you. HAS to have you in his mouth.

He rolls over as gently as his massive frame can move without disturbing you and slides himself down until his head is between your legs. Heat rises to his cheeks, his mouth watering at your scent alone. You’re HIS every inch of you. He wraps his arms around the plush of your thighs his fingertips pressing into you just enough for him to pull himself in closer, kissing the mound of your clothed cunt before his tongue is pressing against the fabric of your underwear. He can already taste how wet you’re getting for him in your sleep.

You shift slightly, a soft moan lilting past your lips that makes his cock throb against the mattress. He needs more, his fingers pull your soaking panties to the side before he lets two fingers trail your glistening slit, teasing your entrance. He’s in love with the way you tighten around just his fingertips, how he can hear how wet you are when he glides them up and down your dewy folds. How fucking intoxicating you feel so soft and gushy just for him.

His hips start a slow rock against the sheets, the friction driving him to recklessness. He pushes his fingers deeper inside you, curling them up and along your gummy walls that flutter around him making you stir. His name on your breath when you moan sleepily for him again. Fuck you sound so pretty, so sweet. He whines, not wanting to wake you yet, pulling his fingers out of you to put them in his mouth sucking your essence from his wet fingers.

And now he wants it all. He drags his tongue through your pussy, your tight hole already leaking for him before he wraps his lips around your clit. Sucking and flicking his tongue against you while your legs tense up in his grasp. he can hear your breathing heavier, little whimpers catching in your throat that just makes him want to bury himself inside you.

He can’t help it, he digs his fingertips into your thighs, locking your legs in place while he eats you. The edge of ecstasy quickly approaching and waking you from your sleep when your eyes flutter open, looking down to see him rutting into the bed, whining into your cunt like he can’t get enough of you. Begging you to cum on his tongue. He NEEDS it. Your hands find his hair, holding his head in place while you rut into his mouth panting for him not to stop. He growls into you, lips latching onto your clit, giving one last suck before you reach your high. Trembling in his massive hands as he laps up every single drop of you and coats the sheets beneath you in his seed.

tagging: @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi

#itto smut #genshin smut #mdni #im crying and not from my eyes #help #tokyometronetwork #.downtown roponggi #genshin impact smut #shin writes genshin #genshin drabble #itto x reader #arataki itto x reader #arataki itto thirst #afab!reader

[mrskodzuken]

This is my entry for @arlertslove's I'm Sucking Off A CEO! collab (which I took it literally lol), my first (and last, unfortunately... hopefully) NSFW art featuring Bouncing Ball Corp. CEO Kozume Kenma. I've worked my ass (and puthy) off sketching and digi-coloring it since last Sunday. Thank you @tetsukentona @beware-of-the-rogue for helping me come up with spicy and witty dialogue for this hot one-panel art piece *drools* <333 tagging @hanayanetwork @tokyometronetwork

Likes are okay, reblogs are nice, reposts and plagiarism stuff are frowned upon 🥰 | ALL WORKS BY MADKITTYBLOSSOM © 2022

#sucking off a ceo collab #tokyometronetwork #haikyuu fanart #haikyuu smut #kozume kenma x y/n #kozume kenma x you #kozume kenma x reader #kenma x y/n #kenma x you #kenma x reader #kenma fanart #kenma smut #tks.dayo #takipnet #hanaya network #🐱saku.smut #🐱saku.doodle

[blueparadis]

#𝐁𝐚𝐣𝐢 : ❝MY FERAL PRINCESS❞

꒰content warnings꒱ — she /her pronouns, aged-up Baji (in his 20s), jealous boyfriend baji, established relationship, s/d dynamics, dom baji, domish reader, fluff, crack, soft smut ˖˖ wc- 0.6k

؂ Now playing semaphore / masterlists.

Baji skims his veiny artistic hands through his locks while his eyes roam all over you from afar. "Yep see you Fuyu, bye", you wave your hand through the window as Chifuyu smiles back. That was the first time Baji bit his bottom lip too hard to bruise it just because you ruffled Chifuyu's hair.

No, he didn't hate you for blending into his friend's circle he liked seeing you being the center of attraction. And with him on your side, you both have become an eyesore to all. Baji liked it, liked to show you off: his feral princess.

"hey!", he calls out wrapping his gingers around your wrist and pulling you into his lap. You could feel his cold hands over your back. The moment you shift your gaze on him his eyebrows jerk up while he blurts out,

"What the fuck?! You're not wearing a bra....."His other hand resting on your thighs as your clear your throat puckering up your lips in a pout exclaiming," It was getting uncomfy..."

"Oh yeah!", he utters lifting one of his eyebrows. You know why exactly he's being like that, you two just had a dinner party with all of his friends.

Chifuyu was the last one to leave while all the time Mikey was way too excited to meet you. It was Mikey's nagging that Baji agreed to have this in the first place.

"Never mind! You must be really tired...", he exhales strongly slipping his hands under your top as he leans onto your shoulders. "Keisuke... Kei... keiiii"

"Shhhhh! I'm trying to calm down", he mumbles but before you could satisfy your curiosity more he sucks onto your pulse point making you gasp. You turn towards him hoping for more of his gentle touch but he swiftly scoops you in his arms carrying you to the bed.

It was so unlike him. No, he loves to cuddle with you but after constantly slipping his hands onto your things during dinner time he just suddenly turns cold, or maybe he is just tired.

"omg! everyone's here, you squealed in excitement. Baji's heart dropped seeing you hopping from Mikey's bike. One thing he cherished the most is bike rides with you; how could he not after you whispered right into his ear those magical words while having your arms curled around his torso.

So, seeing you with Mikey like that he couldn't just hold it any longer but he knows that it's him, his insecurity, not some deliberate lame-ass acts to make him jealous.

As soon as you reach the group Baji slips his hands along your nape rubbing his nose against your temple, followed by a kiss on your cheeks. You nuzzle in his embrace in a reflex, smiling at his gesture.

While others gave you two a little space he just whispers with his bold masculine tone “don’t turn me on now" making you flinch and as you look up to him he gives you a wide grin concluding, "I'm not gonna hesitate to drag you behind that cottage and fuck you baby", with a squeeze on your ass.

"But Kei ... I wore a bra today and that turned you on?", you mumble cocking an eyebrow on him, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “I love you!”, he utters instantly biting his lower lip slowly.

Baji indeed hid the fact that he did it purely out of jealousy but you: his feral princess obeying him, all the more: dressing by his liking sure made him hard.

by BLUEPARADIS

tagging — @haitaniapologist @1900-aria @etheralyonn + networks— @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @planetonet @tometpd

#baji x reader #baji x you #baji x y/n #baji smut #baji keisuke #baji keisuke x y/n #baji keisuke x reader #baji keisuke x you #baji keisuke smut #keisuke baji x you #keisuke baji x y/n #keisuke baji x reader #keisuke baji smut #baji scenarios #baji imagines #baji drabble #tokyometronetwork #planeto🪐 #tokyo revengers smut #tokrev smut #tok rev smut #tr smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers drabbles #tokrev drabbles #tr drabbles #tokyorev drabble #tokyo rev drabbles #smut drabble

[jotatetsuken]

'tis the damn season

features: hajime iwaizumi x gn!reader (no pronouns used, written in 2nd person)

submission for: @woahsamu’s  “It's Always Been You” Collab  | song: ’tis the damn season - taylor swift | type of writing: oneshot | trope: slice of life, exes to lovers | wc: 2530

summary: when you come back to japan for the holiday season, while walking along the sidewalk enjoying the snow, a chance encounter with your ex reminds you how much you miss and still love him.

content warnings: partial haikyuu timeskip spoilers, suggestive themes, hurt/comfort, talks of the breakup, talks of commitment-phobia, the reader's being called baby, love

beta reading: @mxonigirimiya @portfolio-of-dreams @mrskenmakozume (ily all thank you so much <333) | networks: @hanayanetwork @tokyometronetwork

(taglist form / library account, turn on notifications to be updated) (taglist in next rb)

a/n: when i first chartered my list of fics i was going to write for tumblr, i had a fleeting idea for this song along with iwa, and when the collab came into existence, i knew what i had to do: bring the idea to fruition. taylor swift's one of my favs (y'all know this lol), so it's no surprise that my writing's based on one of her songs. plus, I thought of creating a moodboard instead of the usual banner. also, this is based on a two-year relationship i'd had with my ex in uni before i left for the states and he decided to stay in india and prepare for civil services exam. as always, likes, reblogs, and comments, especially reblogs are appreciated.

It had been a cold, chilly winter in Miyagi. The temperatures were almost unbearable. Taking a deep breath, you rubbed both of your mitten-covered hands together while blowing a warm breath in between them. While listening to calming music with your hands in your pockets, you walked along the sidewalk enjoying the snow. Suddenly, you paused along the tracks and took out your earphones, when you recognized a familiar face. One that you know all too well. While his familiar dark brown spiky hair was covered by a dark green beanie with dinosaurs on it, your gaze caught the man's olive-green irises. You took a step back in surprise, your breath caught in your throat, placing one hand on your chest as you realized who it was.

A soft smile spread across his face as he walked toward you. At that moment, you closed your eyes and took deep breaths as you tried to conceal your flushed cheeks, with all the memories you two shared flashing through your mind. From making fun of his best friend, Tooru Oikawa, to pranking the pranksters of Aoba Johsai, Matsukawa and Hanamaki, to going out on different dates: for coffee, for movies, for volleyball matches, for karaoke. The way you used to text each other, passing around secret notes, exchanging love letters, having clandestine encounters in the corridors, everything. He was your first kiss, your first love, and the one to whom you chose to lose your virginity, and as they say, “you never forget your first love.” You also felt a tug on your chest as you remembered the day you broke up with him. 

You had seen many long-distance relationships break, and while you were amazed at how your parents could manage when they were apart for so long, with your father being in the merchant navy, nevertheless, you were scared that you would end up in the same situation. As a result, you dropped the bomb on Hajime Iwaizumi and told him why you had to end the relationship when he revealed that he was moving to the United States to study sports sciences and eventually work for a person he looked up to, Utsui Takashi. The truth is, you loved him too much to let him go. You loved the way he stood by your side whenever things weren’t going so well. You loved being engulfed in his embraces, and more so, you loved being lost in his kisses, every touch of his sending shivers down your spine. You knew he always treated you right; you especially experienced it, but you were afraid your relationship wouldn’t stand the test of time. In addition, he could see there was something wrong with you from miles away, but he never knew what it was until you revealed it to him.

When he heard what you felt, he was very upfront with you, albeit his gaze at you was laced with melancholy. “You know, baby,” he responded, with his shoulders drooping, “I’m actually hurt that you would think that our relationship would fade away as we meet different people, because trust me, what you and I have, I don’t think I can ever have that with anyone. However,” he reached out for both of your hands and held them, saying, “I’ll always be grateful for the memories we had together. I strongly believe that we’ll still find a way to each other, no matter what.” He then cupped your cheeks and planted a farewell kiss before leaving your house, concluding, “That’s because it’s always been you, my love. Always and forever.”

As you opened your eyes, you noticed him standing in front of you. He always had a great sense of fashion, wearing a pair of dark blue jeans with an oversized dark blue denim jacket over a grey hoodie. He was known to make things look good on him. He smiled at you, ever so softly, with his gaze never leaving yours. Unbeknownst to you, a warm smile crept upon your face, as you muttered your first word to him in years: “hey.” He also replied with a single word: “hey,” as you two stopped talking for a while, oddly finding comfort in the silence you two were sharing. You tilted your head and asked him, “It’s been a hot minute, Iwaizumi. When did you come back?” He let out a small chuckle, responding, “You know that you can still call me Hajime, right? I came back a couple of days ago for the holidays. I’ll be here until the second week of January.” Nodding, you weren’t sure as to how you could continue the conversation until an idea popped up in your head. “So, um,” you hesitated, before continuing, “Let’s walk together, to Sakanoshita and get some pork buns. What do you think?” He grinned at you, responding, “I thought you’d never ask.”

The walk to the store was not a silent one; instead, you two handled small talk well. You learned that Hajime was about to complete his senior year in undergrad in sports sciences and will be interning under Utsui Takashi, his role model, after college. He then reveals that Takashi turned out to be the father of his and Tooru Oikawa’s high school nemesis: Wakatoshi Ushijima. You both shared a light-hearted chuckle as he continued, saying that after the internship was over, he intended to work as a full-time athletic trainer and that he was attempting to become the trainer for the Japan National Volleyball Team for the upcoming Tokyo Olympics. For some reason, this gave you a glimmer of hope. 

As you two bought a couple of pork buns from Keishin, nodding at both of you before leaving the store, he was about to ask you whether you were currently seeing anybody when you interrupted him by telling him that you were pursuing your final year in your college studies in Tokyo with Tetsuro Kuroo, an alumnus of Nekoma High School, and you were set to work alongside him in the Japanese Volleyball Association. While his enthusiasm seemed to have died a little bit, thinking that you were probably seeing the former Nekoma captain, you then cleared your throat and confessed to him, something that he found oddly assuring.

“I don’t know where you stand, relationship-wise, but you were right, Hajime. I dated other guys, not Kuroo, because I told him about you, and we just became friends, but I dated other guys, and they weren’t you. They could never be you.”

As he held your hands in silence, a single tear drop streamed down his cold cheeks as he smiled in response to your confession. While you were confused as to what that meant, he asked you in a soft voice, “Do you still stay with your parents, or did you get an apartment of your own?” With a tint of blush hitting your cheeks, you nodded, replying, “I do stay on my own in Tokyo, but here I stay with my parents. However, they’ve gone to Bangkok to visit my relatives, and I told them that I'd be joining them soon, so until then, I live alone. Did you want to come over and spend some time?” He shook his head in denial, replying, “Not until you truly are ready to be with me again.”

Furrowing your eyebrows at him, he continued, “If I do end up coming over, the good memories will return, and I'll want you to commit to me. There’s no middle ground anymore, (y/n). It’s either we get back together, or we stay as acquaintances.” You were taken aback at his confidence. For a moment, you pondered and realized that he had never stopped having feelings for you. Respecting his opinion, you nodded, and suddenly, an idea popped into your head. “So,” you said, “I’ll not be here for long. Maybe a week or so. Until then, would it be okay if we hung out at your place with Mattsun and Makki, and during that time, we can see whether the feelings still exist, and we can, um, give it a go.” Smiling, he nodded in agreement. “Alright, seems fair. We can do that.”

He then called Mattsun and Makki and urged them to come to his house with a couple of board games and to set up video cameras to surprise someone that was coming home after a while. As you two ate your now lukewarm pork buns while walking to Hajime’s house, you started talking about the crazy moments that happened to the both of you while you were away working on your goals. Upon reaching the house, your memories come back as to how you met him in the first place. You then opened the door to find the boys shocked that you had come back, and as you looked at the video camera to their right that caught their expressions, you and Hajime laughed at them, much to their chagrin.

As the days went by, you four hung out often at Hajime’s house, playing different kinds of board games,exercising, watching movies, and catching up with each other. You would even video call Oikawa to surprise him, and he’d whine with a pouty face, “Why am I not there now?” to which you’d reply, “because someone chose to fly to exotic places over us,” with the rest of you cackling and laughing at the milkbread-loving setter. What was seemingly oblivious to Mattsun and Makki was that there were stolen glances exchanged between the both of you, you found your hands brushing against each other often, and you would mistake other people’s names for each other. One day, someone had dropped cutlery, and while you’d kneeled to pick some spoons and forks up, you noticed Iwaizumi kneeling to pick up the same, causing your faces to be a couple of centimeters apart, and as you two realized that the tension between you was so strong that you could use a knife to cut through it, you gulped a little bit of air down your throat.

The day before you were about to leave for Bangkok, you called him and started cajoling him, “Hajime, I need to talk to you. Would you be able to come over, please?” Exhaling a deep breath, he replied, “Okay, fine. I’m on my way.” You were pacing around the living room for fifteen minutes, confused as to why you were feeling this way until the doorbell rang and you rushed to open the door. When you unlocked the door, Hajime was standing on the front porch, shivering. His hands were in the muff of the dark blue hoodie, with his hood down so that you could see him clearly. His hair was disheveled as if he had run his hands through it one too many times. You let him in, a panting mess, looking as if he had just been jogging in the chilly weather. As you two sat on the warm couch near the fireplace, you knelt down. 

This time you were the one holding his hands, causing him to widen his eyes. “Hajime, when I told you that all those people that I dated could never be you, I meant it. Sure, I was commitment-phobic as hell, and you know that, and I was scared that that would disturb our relationship should we go long-distance, because I’d be doubting you constantly, be jealous, and have all kinds of negativity in my head, but the truth is, I love you, Hajime. I always have, and I want you to be my boyfriend, and me to be your partner. I want to go ahead and fully commit myself to you, come what may. Always and forever, right?” 

Smiling at you, he then cupped your cheeks, brought your face forward, and kissed you on your lips. No sooner did that happen than you enveloped yourselves in a deep kiss, eventually causing the two of you to peel the clothes off each other’s bodies. Every touch, every kiss, every action had the power to convey how much you still loved each other at this very moment more than words ever could. 

An hour had passed since you two made love after four years, and you had wrapped yourselves in a blanket, sipping on some hot chocolate in front of the fireplace, nuzzling against each other. Suddenly, either one of the phones buzzes as Hajime kisses your forehead as he goes to the strewn pile of clothes and not only gets out his phone, which just had his alarm ringing, but also a small box. As you narrowed your vision to the small box, a number of thoughts spawned in your head. “Wait, is he asking me to marry him already?” You think to yourself. “Isn’t that too soon?” However, as Hajime brings the box to you and opens it, it didn’t seem like an expensive diamond ring, but it was one of those even more expensive platinum bands that must have been bought from a jeweler’s shop.

He then tells you, “(y/n), I’ve been aware of your fear of commitment ever since your cousin had a messy divorce, and your best friend’s eleven-year old relationship ended. When you broke up with me, while I was sad and heartbroken and you were citing your inability to commit, I imagined something: that years later, you'd tell me that you wanted to commit to me, and whenever you did so, I’d give you this ring. It’s not an engagement ring, it’s a promise ring. With this, baby,” He slides the ring onto your left ring finger and says, “I promise to love you and cherish you whenever you’re ready to take the next steps in the relationship, and I promise to walk alongside you, because baby,” he then holds both of your hands while saying, "There wasn’t anyone else in my life that I dated other than you, especially when I went to the States because I couldn't imagine anyone else but you by my side. It was always you, (y/n). Always and forever.” 

Tears streamed down your cheeks as your gaze met with his. You then cupped his cheeks and kissed him on the lips, with both of your “I love you”s reverberating throughout the whole house. The next day, the quarter of the Seijoh 4 helped you pack your bags, and Hajime drove you to the airport. As he stopped in front of the airport, he saw you twiddling your thumbs while subconsciously biting your lower lip. He took one hand and intertwined his fingers with yours as you turned in his direction. He smiled at you, saying, “I promise you, love, this is not the end of us. In fact, it’s just the beginning.” Both of you were then engulfed in a warm embrace for what felt like an eternity. As you got out of the car and got your belongings, you then gave Hajime a kiss before leaving for Bangkok. If you learned anything from this trip, it was that ‘tis the damn season’s fault for bringing you two back together, because that kiss wouldn’t certainly be the last.

© Shyna 2022 - reposting on any other platform or even tumblr is not allowed. do not copy my layouts, moodboards or banners. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated.

#— it’s always been you collab #tokyometronetwork #hanaya network #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi angst #hq fluff #haikyuu angst #hq angst #haikyuu fluff #tw suggestive #shyna suggestives #iwaizumi hajime x reader #commitment phobia #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi #exes to lovers #hurt/comfort #shyna muses #musings of an extrovert

[highviewsmoved]

You were just trying to work off steam from a recent bad break-up. What you didn't need was some guy at the gym telling you your form sucked. Even if he is ridiculously good-looking and right about it. So you use his expertise to help train you. You have something to prove to your ex and to him. 

Attraction is a force to be reckoned with. 

WORD COUNT: 13.1K TAGS: Personal Trainer!Waka, Romantic Comedy, Meet Ugly, Female Reader, Sexual Tension, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Language, Gyms, Alcohol, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Sparring, Boxing (in like the loosest terms), Post-Break Up, Mutual Pining, Banter, Power Dynamics (Sort Of)

The words still echo in your brain. “I think you’re weak. We should break-up.”

That phrasing has become a broken recorder, spinning the words into a continuous chant. At first, when Jun told you his feelings and left you there at the café you had cried. You called up your best friend Mei and told her everything about it. Mei had cussed him out for you, had comforted you while you were in the bathroom sobbing on the phone.

You didn’t know how to move forward from that moment. I think you’re weak; he had said. What could that even mean? Is that even an appropriate thing to dump someone over? He had thought you were weak? When he was the one who clung to you, who seemed to never let you have a moment's peace on your own.

No, he was the weak one. He was projecting onto you. The next moment you were crying and then suddenly there’s a certain determination stirring within you.

You’ll just have to show Jun, your old, awful ex, just how not weak you are.

“Boxing?!” Mei asks in disbelief. Her voice rose so loud that people in the nearby vicinity were glancing at the two of you.

You pick at your food. “Yeah,” you mutter. I think you’re weak, springs back into mind. You say it again, much more confident. “Yeah, I’ve decided. I’m going to do it.”

Mei shifts in her seat, sipping at her drink. “I mean, good for you, but also is what Jun said really that important to you?”

You swallow, not wanting to admit that his words had wounded something inside you. Sure, you had your moments. You were emotional, sometimes irrational, but you had thought he had understood. It’s like two years of being together were out the window. Which remains. How long did he feel this way? Maybe he just couldn’t ever grapple with you? In the grand scheme of things, you’re glad it’s done.

Another, more scorned portion of you is angry. Pissed, even. You’ll have to prove it. It’s a new motivation for you, to figure out who you are and maybe go through a grandiose change. Just to get back at him.

Mei sighs, knowing you’re dead set on it. “There is a gym in the area, I’ve never been, but I heard the guy is a skilled fighter. Maybe he can–”

You stand up, interrupting her before she can continue. “Genius, Mei! I’m going right now.”

“Right now?”

You grab your purse, needing to head into your house to gather clothes. “Yup, I’m doing this! I’ll call you later, okay?” You holler, running out of the café. You had to grab the next train to head over there. The day was just beginning.

First, you had some studying to do.

You arrive at the outskirts of the building. It looked dingy on the outside; the gym being in a shady part of town tucked into a corner. You could see a few people coming and leaving, experienced grown men and even some women. It’s a little daunting, but you’re not weak, you chant. You can do this. You will.

This is paramount to you and your worth. A reminder of the strength you hold within yourself. Courage can shine beautifully in these times. So, you take a deep breath, looking both ways to cross the street.

You had the night before looked up information about boxing at the bookstore. It was filled to the brim with instructional books and information for beginners. The stances, what each move was called, the proper gear to gather for it. You had to go out and buy some used boxing gloves. You spent a bit, but that was alright. This is going to be life changing. And for the better.

When you walk into the gym, it is exhaustingly hot. The huge fans above you are coming through. It was all steel. The place was some old warehouse turned facility. You look around. There’s a boxing ring in the center, with a few punching bags next to it. There are metal shelves near the ring with different sizes of gloves. Now, you feel ridiculous for buying some.

Someone comes up behind you, startling you. “You new?” He asks.

You whirl around to meet face to face with a good-looking man, who looks to be your age. He has a blase expression, lazy eyes, and is chewing on what looks to be a yakitori stick.

You grapple with your thoughts. “Uh, yes, do I need a membership for this place?”

His eyes slide away, looking ahead. You turn to see the list of prices above you in the corner. 1,000 yen for a day and 20,000 yen for a year membership. You frown. “Are there, uh, discounts?”

“No,” he states.

You sigh. “Where do I pay? Is cash okay?” He gestures over to the counter while you follow him there. He walks around to it, popping open a register. You dig into your bag, pulling out the three bills of 1000.

The man slides the money to him, counting it.

He will not explain the details of the gym, you realize suddenly. “Um, so do I just come in? Are there showers? Any amenities?”

He glances up at you with piercing eyes. “We have showers in the back, locker rooms included, and the weight room is next to the ring.” He gives you your change, then. You take it from him, nodding.

“But do I need an ID for this place?”

“No. I remember everyone who comes through here,” he replies simply.

You huff. “Okay, thanks.” You walk away from the counter, heading into the back area of the locker rooms. They were a little terrifying. There was no other person in sight. So, you quickly change into your basic shorts and tank top. You feel a weird ball in the pit of your stomach. Could you do this? Every day by yourself? Mei already has a gym membership elsewhere, but it didn’t have boxing lessons.

If this is the only place, then so be it.

You step out, focusing on the weight area. You glance around, seeing the guy away from the counter doing something by the shelving.

You swallow, feeling a little too exposed.

The weight room had an entire mirror set up. Looking at yourself made you feel weird. To warm up, you decide to start off with some simple stretches. In doing so, maybe that will loosen everything up.

Soon, you’re all warmed up, feeling motivated. You decide to do some weight lifting, hopefully to build up some muscle overtime while doing the boxing practice. You do squats, simple enough right?

You grab some dumbbells, starting off with simple ten pounders.

What you don’t realize is the guy from the counter following your every move. He sneaks glances when you’re focusing. He knows. She’s never done this before.

He leans forward on the counter, watching.

You continue doing some kind of thing. You’re timid about how to do this. You were never the athletic type. In school, during sport festival days, you typically opted out of those by pretending to be sick. So you knew nothing of what you were supposed to be doing. You were absolutely certain that this is what you read, though. From afar, he could tell you were struggling.

Wakasa has to say something. It’s almost unbearable not to. “Hey, Rookie,” he calls out.

You turn then, frowning. “What?”

“You’re doing that incorrectly,” he inclines his head to the weights and your arms.

You raise an eyebrow. “I am perfectly fine.” You tap your foot a bit, trying to do your workout in peace. You turn away from him, trying to do this set. When the guy once again speaks up, it’s almost like a necessity to him.

“You’re doing that incorrectly. You could seriously pull something like that.”

You swivel around, dropping your arms and the weights. “I am doing fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “Listen, I am learning, alright.”

“Well, wherever you learned that from taught you incorrectly, so.”

You scowl at him. “I learned it from a book, specifically on this subject.”

His grin forms then, and it is mocking. “Maybe you should get your eyes checked. That’s not what you’re supposed to do.”

You size the man up. How dare he talk like he knows everything? Who gave up their throne to make him king? “Excuse you, but I don’t take unsolicited advice,” you scoff, turning back to your mat. The man doesn’t move from his spot and obviously he’s not even that phased by it. He just stares at you. “Alright then,” he shrugs. “If you say you know what you’re doing, I won’t stop you.”

“Thank you,” you say primly. You brush the tendrils out of your face and squat, doing the leg workout instead. You had read something about lunges. You just started here. He was the one that didn’t give you any details on this gym until you had to wheedle it out of him. Now he’s trying to train you? Suddenly he’s interested in what you’re doing. Seriously, what an ass.

“You’re going to pull a muscle if you do it that way,” he calls out, like a reminder. You stop what you’re doing. He flicks the newspaper without even looking up.

“Okay, since you know everything, let me talk to your owner. I have a few words about their employee harassing patrons.” You cross your arms, irritated. You have a lot of pent up frustration and this guy is not making it any easier.

Wakasa turns the page, glancing up at you lazily. “You’re lookin’ at’em.”

You grimace. “What?”

Wakasa sets the paper aside. “I am the owner of this facility.”  

You squint as if unsure of that. “Well, my point still stands.” you would not give him this imaginary point going forward. You won’t back down from this.

“About?” He drawls, he looks the least bit amused by your stubbornness on the situation.

You bend forward, lifting the dumbbell to set it back on the rack. You don’t sense his eyes following your every move or the way they seem to burn holes into the back of your head. You reassure yourself that it’s because he’s glaring. He is, but he’s also interested.

“You just want to be right. I know your types.”

“My type is to be a good owner and not have people like you injure yourselves in my building to sue me or something.”

You give him an affronted expression. “I would never, but now that you mention it, I might now.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, chewing on his stick. “Oh, really?”

You put your hands on your hips. “For the emotional toil you’re causing me. And harassment.”

He gives you a dead eyed look. “That’s low, even for someone like you.”

You sniff haughtily. “Well, that’ll teach you to mind your own. So, when do you work? Are you always here?”

“Why do you wanna know? To accuse me some more?”

“No, so I can know what days to avoid, so I don’t have to see you,” you add petulantly. You cross your arms.

He smirks at that. “Oh?”

You nod. “I’m serious.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m here 24/7. My home is this gym.”

You huff, defeated. You can’t keep going to do this back and forth. It’ll just be a waste of time.

You decide to ignore him, doing the best you can with what knowledge you know. He can just write all his grievances down for all you care. If he has so much of an issue, maybe he could teach you.

The idea crosses you at that very moment. If this guy knew everything there is to what you’re trying to do and is the owner, it must mean he’s the skilled fighter Mei had mentioned.

You sneak a glance at him, the guy not even looking up from you. He doesn’t look to be the type to be like that. He looks regular, just lean.

But you knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

You march over to him, full of purpose. “Hey—”

“Wakasa. Wakasa Imaushi,” he says, still not giving you the time of day.

Alright, you can take that. “Wakasa,” you smile. “Look, I know we had a bit of a cheeky start, but do you have any expertise in boxing?”

Wakasa looks up at you, a keen interest in his eye. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, I need someone with the knowledge to help me train for it.”

He doesn’t seem to believe that. “You’re asking me? The same guy you threatened just a little while ago?”

You wrinkle your nose. “It’s bad, I know. Listen, I apologize, really. I just would like some help? A guidance, if you will.”

He assesses you with a careful distance, almost as if he’s worried about you reaching in. Maybe he’s the person who needs space to think about these things. You didn’t think it was that serious.

“Why?” He inquires. It’s a simple question, one that you have a real answer to, but not the one you’re willing to give. That sort of honesty will take you a while.

So, you lie, it’s half of one, but it’s not the reason. “To get stronger.”

Wakasa seems to contemplate it for a moment. He weighs the pros and cons. You’d be here a lot and he didn’t really particularly like the way you spoke to him; but he can’t help being a tad curious.

He hasn’t trained someone since Senju, and that was simply because she’s a prodigy all her own. This is someone new, who looks to know nothing of the sort. It’d give him something to do. It couldn’t hurt. “Alright,” he nods. “I’ll take you up on that.”

You release a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you!”

“When do you want to start?”

“Pardon?”

“We can start now.”

You take a minute, your brain short circuiting. “I mean–”

“Or not, your choice.”

You hate having to decide. Why does it have to be on your shoulders? You asked for it. You remind yourself that this is all you're doing and not anyone else's. You begrudgingly make the call.

“Fine, let’s do this.”

It’s simple: Wakasa goes over every single term. It’s become a lesson. He pulls out old magazines, guidebooks and lays out all the equipment in front of you. All the stuff you’ve seen and sifted through, but didn’t have anyone there to explain it.

You go through memorizing each thing. He breaks down the concept of boxing down to its core. “Fighting is an art,” he explains. “Think of it like dancing or making music. There’s a passion that gives it life. Boxing is in that realm. It is someone matching you to a rhythm. It can be a breathless waltz or all the times you’ve had a bad dance partner step on your toes.”

You nod, understanding that boxing for some is a way of life. It is a third lung, an extra crutch. It’s a brutally gorgeous sport split into different categories by weight. You’re matched to someone in likeness and ability. That has to mean something to so many. Wakasa seems very knowledgeable about it.

He talks about fighting like it’s a lover. It seems to be where his heart is.

You thank him. There’s an odd kindness that you see in him. Not that it wasn’t present before, but you had thought him to be more of a smart-ass. You feel you know him a little better. You’ve seemed to come to an understanding with him.

“I appreciate it, I do,” you tell him. The two of you walk out to lock up the Gym while he heads out to lunch.

“It’s no problem. Hey, make sure you go over those tapes. There are good references there.” Wakasa was kind enough to hand them to you in a nice tote.

You laugh a little. “Sure, sure.”

The two of you depart ways, but you can’t help but feel a little better. Wakasa seems to have that sort of presence. A calming, reassuring aura.

In a matter of a week, you head into the Gym every morning. It’s a ritual at this point. Mei called you the other night to see how it was going.

“It’s going,” you had told her.

She sings in excitement. “Oh, I’m just so happy for you! You already seem more perky. Who’s teaching you, anyway?”

You explain all of it to her, how you mistook the Gym Owner as some bad-tempered guy who kept commenting on your ability. How he is actually a pretty decent guy to work with.

Mei seems to have taken that as great news. Her resulting in telling you not to form a crush on the new trainer.

You had felt yourself grow warm at that. It’s not like he’s not handsome, but he’s your trainer. That has to count against any sort of feelings being dredged up.

You don’t really know him, nor have you been acquainted with him for much longer than a couple of hours. Unless something of the sort does blossom, god forbid. You just don’t want to think of that.

A part of you, though, is almost curious. Certainly it couldn’t happen. He’s definitely not interested. Right?

You come in the next day. Wakasa welcomes you to the front.

“Rookie, we’re going to do something different today,” he informs you. You look at him questioning. “What do you mean?”

He leans over the counter. “We’re going to try doing some move practices in the ring.”

You gape at him. “Already? I thought we were going to do more drills?”

“I need to see something. You’re going to have to get used to some sparring.”

When he says this, you don’t know exactly what you’re in for.

Wakasa explains the general gist of it to you. He shows you the form and you mirror him the best you can. “This is for practice. I want to know if you’ve been watching those tapes.”

You have been. The fighters make it look incredibly easy. The swift movements, the footwork, all of it.

“I want you to swing at me. If we fumble around, it’s okay,” he says. So you do, you take a gander. You throw your fist back and he dodges it. He does the same, but you’re not quite good at blocking yet, so it nearly catches onto your shoulder.

You both continue like this for what feels like sometime. The videos had seemed clear cut, but maybe there were things you were missing. It also feels like Wakasa is toying with you. The way he seems to inch closer to you, the proximity almost dizzying.

You two go about this in an odd dance, a tangle of arms coming through and messy blocking. Wakasa somehow has completely blindsided you. He’s right behind you now, so when you swivel around he is entirely too close, his fist coming to a stop at your chin. He doesn’t move, remaining there for sometime.

The way he presses himself near you, knowing he shouldn’t be. He has a full strength advantage against you. Maybe sparring wasn’t the wise choice for you to start with today. Especially since you only think emotionally and not tactically.

Wakasa Imaushi is dangerous, lethal, in every capacity. He’s got years of experience and you’re just now learning. You know better than to move from this position. You asked for it; you made your grave. His lips come close to your ear, tickling against the bit of your loose hair. Curse him, curse his pretty face and that smile. “I win,” he murmurs, his voice causing goosebumps to crawl over your arms. He releases you then, fist coming down, and you take a few steps away from him. You’re frustrated.

The freaking tease. He did it on purpose. There’s a daring look in his eye directed at you. Your move.

When you go in for a right hook, he stops it with his hand easily. He seems to hold on a little tighter.

“This makes you vulnerable,” he moves a fist towards your stomach area. “See, right there, I could’ve taken you down. You’re open.”

He lets go, and you wipe the sweat from your face.

“We can go over some more fundamentals tomorrow,” he informs you. “At this rate, it’ll take you longer than six months to get the initial stuff down.”

You nearly choke on your water. “That much?! It takes that long to learn?”

Wakasa wraps his towel around his shoulder. “Yeah, did you not read that in one of your books?”

You sniff. “No, I just thought it was a few punches and kicks,” you gesture. You try to imitate the stances of cage fighters you’ve seen on television before. Wakasa takes up a relaxed posture, leaning against the ropes of the boxing ring.

“There’s training that goes into it, a lot of mental and strength building. So, if you want me to still help you, then—”

“That’s fine, I’ll be ready for it,” you say. You bounce already, eager for the next day. You feel the soreness, but not as bad as it was during the first week. Doing the drills Wakasa sets up for you has been much easier now, it's showing that your conditioning is working.

“We can start some core building tomorrow morning,” he states.

Your neck snaps up. “Tomorrow morning?”

You remembered then that Jun had called you the other night, drunk and lonely. He had begged you to come and see him. The dependent part of you had wanted to. He had asked you to meet at the café where you both used to go.

Wakasa nods slowly. “That’s what I said. Your work is in the afternoons, right? So why not?”

There’s an obvious choice here. You would have to pick the training time every week with Wakasa, it would diminish a lot of your social time. You think of Jun, alone and waiting for you. That feels much better than just lingering for him to notice you. Also, he can suffer for all that he’s done.

You smile, bright and happy. “Sounds good to me.”

The next few weeks, Wakasa has you on a rigorous schedule. You rise at five in the morning, and you’re done by eight before the gym opens up for public access. You do various drills, running through the fundamentals after. He teaches you the poses for each stance in boxing. “There’s The Orthodox Stance,” he makes the pose, pushing his left foot forward, gently. His fists raise to act as both shield and weapon.

He stands up straight, gesturing to a buddy. “Here with me today is Benkei. He’ll be my example.”

Benkei, a rather large man, comes into the ring, putting on his gloves. You watch the two of them carefully. “First, we will show you the offensive moves.” He calls out, introducing each one.

The jab, a short handed left punch he throws Benkei dodges easily. The hook and cross, his arm bending to form the crook as he throws another hit. The uppercut, a punch thrown upward with as much force as your torso can do. “The uppercut takes a lot of tension in the lower half, it helps propel it,” he explains.

The two of them relax their stances. You nod, trying to remember how to do each of those. “We won’t show you the defensive moves just yet, but if you want to try those out right now you can.”

“Right now?” You parrot out in shock.

“It’s practice,” Wakasa waves you up into the center. Benkei takes a seat on the side where the chair is.

You head back into the arena. You remember his words, doing the stance, pushing that left foot forward. Wakasa intently watches you, his gaze not looking away from your form. You feel really self-conscious between him and Benkei.

He hums, approaching you. “This arm needs to be moved here.” He grabs your wrist gently, moving it to the correct position. His thumb slides away then, you watch his fingers curiously, and he is close.

A lot closer than he should be. “Look up,” he lifts your face up. “Don’t lower your chin down. That can cause harm.”

His hand lingers for too long, unless you were imagining it. Benkei coughs off to your side. Wakasa’s eyes slide over to his pal there, giving him a harsh look.

You blink, confused by the reaction.

It goes like this in a back and forth. Where you repeat the motions of the offensive moves. He either stops you where you are, frozen in the spot, to adjust your hands to the right position. Waka reminds you of the dos and don’ts, the risks if you tuck your thumb into your fist. How one can even damage many bones at once with the impact of a single hit. You feel yourself paling at the thought. You didn’t want to fight professionally by any means, but you feel like this is something that would build your confidence. It’d give you reassurance and a push. It’s one of those things that is a great conversation starter. Oh, you do boxing, that’s so cool.

You just wanted to seem more interesting, and this is a start. Wakasa nods once, seeming happy with it. You feel you've been doing this for an eternity.

“Alright, we can begin with the defensive.”

You gulp. Wakasa does the usual of signaling Benkei over once more.

“For the defensive, you have the slip, where you move your head to the side,” he presents it. Benkei goes in for a strike and Wakasa avoids it with ease. He shows the block and finally the duck. All words that are easy to understand exactly what you’re supposed to do.

What shocks you the most is Wakasa asking for you to be on the defensive while he is on offense.

“Wait, shouldn’t it happen naturally?” You ask, the nerves hiking up.

“We’re getting you used to the feeling of them. We’ll do more set drills over these.”

You sigh, heading to where he is to do a repeat, except this time you have to defend yourself from Wakasa. “Relax,” he says. “I’ll go slow.” You worry a bit about that.

When he throws the jab at you, you panic, blocking it. Pure luck. Benkei makes a grunt of approval off to the side. You relax a little, feeling a little more confident. Wakasa throws another cross and you duck under it.

He does one more, the uppercut, which you successfully stop. Wakasa cracks his neck, relaxing his posture. “Good work,” he tells you. “I think we’re done for the day.”

You loosen up, removing your gloves. Benkei approaches, offering you water. “You’re doing good for a rookie. Congrats,” he gives you an affirmative nod and a small smile. You thank him, appreciating his gesture. To have someone like him acknowledge your strength. It makes you feel better about doing all of this.

You gather the rest of your things, ready to hit the showers. You turn to wave at the two of them, but you notice they seem deep in conversation. Wakasa looks bored as usual, but there’s a certain tenacity to his stance. You bite your lip, curious, but you know better than to eavesdrop.

So you decide to just tell them on your way out.

You take a warm shower, feeling your muscles ease from all the worked up energy and tension. You’ve been learning so much these last few weeks. It feels fantastic to gather that confidence. Jun hasn’t crossed your mind at all and Wakasa is a great teacher.

You’re glad you got over the hurdle of insulting him the first time you met. You value his companionship and his expertise. He’s becoming someone you can rely on. You trust him. Although you know nothing about him. You wonder, outside of the gym, what he does for his own entertainment.

You get out, dry yourself off and get dressed. Today was an off day for you from work, so you had the afternoon to sleep. Wakasa suddenly steps into the vicinity, right when you pull down your t-shirt. You startle after seeing him in the corner of your eye. “Oh my– Wakasa! You scared me!” You hold a hand over your heart.

He doesn’t bat an eye. Does he just always silently walk into the locker rooms like that? “What’re you doing after this?”

You blink at him. “It’s my day off, so I was just going home.”

“Let me treat you to some food,” he offers, his hands suddenly in his pockets. He has that crouched sort of posture. The yakitori stick in his mouth, rolling from side to side. You wonder if that’s an oral fixation that he has. You shoo that thought away, though.

“I mean, that sounds good to me, okay?” How kind of him, you think. You would’ve never thought he would do something like that.

He motions for you to hurry, exiting out of the room. You smile, you're feeling that familiar thrum. You decide to ignore that, tucking it comfortably away. Not now, you think. You must get stronger first.

The two of you walk down the path to a chain restaurant down the way. The bright yellow insignia of the place is welcoming. “It’s on me,” he says once you order. You shove your money away, stuffing it safely into the confines of your wallet.

“Oh, thank you!” You chirp.

He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

The two of you sit across from one another, waiting on the order to be called. You are very aware now that you’re right across from Wakasa. The same irritatingly cocky man who’s been training you. You’re uncertain if you should be the first to speak. Perhaps he likes quiet lunches.

“Where do you work?” He asks, breaking that thought down immediately.

“I work at my family's office just doing the paperwork. We own a dental place. My dad and mom are the heads,” you tell him. He nods, seeming to take that in.

“Cool,” he murmurs. The server appears then, delivering your orders. He sips on his drink, not saying anything else.

You realize maybe it’s your turn to ask something. It’s how real conversations go.

“And you? Do you do anything outside of gym stuff?” You take a bite of your sandwich.

He leans back against his seat. “I train, go to meetings, and hang with my friends.”

You perk up at that. “Oh, are you a business major?”

Wakasa gives you a wry smile. “Something like that,” he covers his mouth, suppressing a grin. You’re not sure what the joke is.

You want to ask more, but you feel silly prodding him for an explanation. After it all, you both go your separate ways. Maybe it’s best to keep it that way, yet there’s that curious itch in you. You want to get to know him better. He’s an enigma in every way, but he’s been a reliable mentor to you. You want to at least give him the right to tell you himself.

“Why’d you want to pick up boxing?” He asks then. You’re surprised he didn’t ask you that previously. Back then, maybe he wanted to, but you just had given him the excuse of wanting to get stronger. Maybe he didn’t fully believe the reason.

You mull over the question more than you’d like. Wakasa waits, though, his presence comforting in a strange way. “I had a bad break-up,” you admit. You duck your head a little in shame. You don’t know why you feel guilty telling him the truth. “My ex told me I was weak, so I wanted to change myself. To prove him wrong. I wanted to do something for myself, for once.”

You wait, nervous about his response. What does he think of you? Would he think that’s a pathetic excuse? Something only pitiable people would do by taking those words to heart?

Wakasa leans forward then, his eyes searching your face. They’re the shade of the lilacs your mother used to grow out in the yard. “I think you’re changed,” he says. You look at him, wide eyed. “You’re stronger than you know.”

The familiar thrum returns, making your neck warm and your mood lighten.

After your time together, Wakasa heads off in a different direction from you.

You think about his words, how they juxtapose what Jun had told you. ‘I think you’re weak’ replaces itself with ‘you’re stronger than you know’ . You feel the familiar hum, your heart-warming itself. You think of Wakasa and his mysterious confidence, the way he speaks to you with conviction. He treats you not as someone less than but someone who is worth teaching. He is a fantastic pep talker, if that’s what you can call it.

You walk home feeling lighter than ever.

Benkei greets Wakasa back at the gym. The former eyeing him warily. “How did it go?”

Wakasa throws his keys on the table, sitting down on his cot. The silence stretches for a long period. “Fine,” he mumbles.

Benkei shakes his head, walking away. “I came to check on you, but it looks like you need more time to think.”

Wakasa pulls out one of his sticks from the back of his pocket. Benkei sighs, casually striding over. “You need to figure it out. There’s only so much I can say.”

Benkei leaves then, without another glance. Wakasa sits there, unmoving. He thinks of what he said to you today. He thinks of the way you were right there, across from him. At any point, he could’ve asked you properly. Instead, he can’t make the words come out. He had to do it in gestures or lingering touches. He’d hope you would catch on, but it’s going to be a lot harder than that. You were dense, unsurprising, though. You two had a work relationship, with some boundary treading on his part. He needed to not do that any longer. He can’t compromise this for you.

He can tell that relationships were off limits. He had to grapple with that. It’s odd to be on the receiving end of things for Wakasa. Typically, people of all kinds would leer at him. He’d usually beat them senseless if they got too close or he would ignore them. He’s never been the one with the one-sided feelings. Is this how Shinichiro used to feel? He exhales. Man, he misses him, especially in times like these.

He lays back, his arm over his face. “It’s like I’m fucking fifteen again,” he grouses.

You arrive at the usual time for training. When Wakasa welcomes you, there’s a certain tension in him. Something was off about him. Usually, Wakasa would come in with a light tease, maybe a little “Hey, Rookie.” There was none of those greetings. Something about today was different.

He seems to be dead set on not recognizing your presence in its entirety. He is supposed to be training you. So he would have to either way be in his line of sight. Whether or not he likes it.

When you finish up your drills, Wakasa seems to rush through the lessons. Not the familiar quickening of pace, but a hurried snap of the fingers. Almost as if he’s trying to get rid of you. What is his deal? He’s not usually like this. It’s unexpected, even for him.

“Hey, Wakasa,” you approach him during the water break. “Is everything okay?”

He looks at you, his mouth pressed in a firm line. “Yeah.”

You swallow, feeling odd. He’s lying to you. There’s something obviously bothering him. Could he not entrust you with it? How did the Wakasa from the other day who told you those encouraging words go from that to this? Right now, he’s showing a much more callous side of him. It causes your frustration to break through. “How about this?” you offer. “We spar, we go slow, and if I can dodge your hits, at least three. You tell me what’s wrong.”

Wakasa licks his lips. “Alright, I can work with that.”

You’re happy he agrees. At least it’s a start somewhere.

The two of you take your stances, Wakasa goes for an uppercut and you block it. The frustration builds again when he throws a few hooks and jabs. You dodge each of those, surprised by how fast he’s going. He seems irritated. It couldn’t have been something you did, right? It should’ve stopped, but he keeps going; disregarding your agreement entirely.

Maybe you had said something off? “Wakasa, you’re not going slow,” you tell him, barely missing a strike to the face.

He’s really going for blood, it seems. You do your best to evade the onslaught. Wakasa seems intently focused, like he’s no longer there. It’s just pure instinct leading him. It felt like guarding against a feline. The way he moves, agile and swift. Fine , if he’s going to get lost in this, then so will you.

You move backward, the side-to-side motions he matches with. The training you’ve endured shining through this. All of your movements have become second nature.

“Wakasa,” you call out again. You’re determined to understand what’s happening. “What’s going on? Please talk to me!”

Wakasa moves then, suddenly close, his uppercut coming for your chin. You stop it just in time, but a hook comes right to your side. He stops then, not at all hitting you. You feel the glove against your waist. His breathing is heavy, his eyes holding yours. You felt caged in. Just you and him.

“You’re open,” he rumbles. You look up at him in awe. The way he’s looking at you, his eyes are so bright. They seem to say something, luring you close. They’re like the way a feline catches their prey, getting low and slinking towards them to attack. You’re drawn in. You feel you could drown in the depths of him.

His head dips low, you can feel his breath much closer now, his lips nearly brushing against yours. Your heart pounds in your ear. He might not be in the right frame of mind. You want to, but you also need to bring him back. “Wakasa?”

He breaks away then, creating a distance that was not there before. Wakasa Imaushi has always been a puzzle. There is almost a simplicity to how he is. You like to think you figured it out. He holds himself to constant diligence. It’s all in the way he carries himself. Today, this was not one of those days for you. He has become unreadable in your eyes.

He swallows, not saying a single word now. What was that? Your mind supplies. That couldn’t have been.

“Let’s take a break from this,” he begins. He trails off, not sure where to elaborate. Your mood tanks then. Is he serious? Wakasa Imaushi being the one to call it quits. He has some nerve.

“What are you implying?”

“I’m saying we should stop this. We should stop this training. We take a break,” he suggests.

You do the best thing you can do. You argue with him. “No! What, we were just getting started! It’s only been a month!”

Wakasa cannot even spare you a single glance. He avoids your opposition and the way you look at him like you can’t believe what he’s doing.

“I’m the trainer, so I get the say. If I call it off, it’s off.”

You shake your head, hurrying to take your gloves off so you can actually hit him across the face. “You asshole! You can’t just do that. I paid you money for this.”

“I’m doing it now. I’ll refund you. Every bit.”

Your breath comes out as a shaky exhale. You can’t believe the words he’s forming right now. He sounds so much like a coward. “You’re running away,” you declare. He looks at you now, a fire that was not there before. It’s different from the passion he exhibited earlier.

“I’m not. I think we just need some time.”

“You need time,” you push. “You’re the only one who wants this.”

Wakasa has never once looked angry. He may have expressed a general detachedness, or an air of indifference, but there is one thing you can be sure of. He never looked at you with such contempt. As if you were the last person on earth he’d ever want to be with.

You won’t back down, even if he’s pissed at you, for whatever reason. You’re telling him the truth. The least he could do was do the same.

Wakasa does not yield, though. He climbs out of the arena, heading over to the counter. You jog after him. He pulls out every bit of money you had paid him, slapping it on the counter. “Take it and go.”

“I told you I won’t!” You shout. You’re trying your best to keep it cool, but this is maddening. Why won’t he just talk to you? “You have been nothing but helpful, so why?” You demand. “Why are you just throwing this all away?”

“This is the last time I say this, Rookie,” he spits out your nickname. “Get the hell out of my gym.” His voice lowering, incredibly even.

You shatter at that. He has no reason to treat you so coldly. You feel the overwhelming, crushing weight of rejection. He’s going to stop training you, you won’t get to see him anymore.

The utter disdain on his face is a grim reminder of what happens when you fully open up. This is the exact reason. Everything Wakasa has done for you disappears. He’s gone too far. You throw the money onto the ground, stalking off. You feel weak and you tremble. You will not cry in front of him. You won’t let him see that.

You grab all your things, walking quickly towards the front when Benkei and another man come in.

“Oh, hey, Rookie!” You push past them, apologizing and leaving as fast as you can.

You run out into the street. You don’t know how long you go, sprinting down the alleys. You’re gasping by the time you're done, the pain in your side making you forget what happened, for just a moment.

You slide against the wall; the crying begins. That horrible, disgusting heaviness coming back in full force. You hiccup, folding into yourself. Once again left in shambles.

Nothing hurt more than this. Not Jun’s breakup, not anything like this. Wakasa wounded you, and all you can do is cry.

You’re worried it won’t ever be the same.

There’s a beat of silence until Benkei’s face contorts into anger. “Hey, what the hell was that?”

Wakasa ignores him, gripping the sides of the counter harshly. He feels the immediate regret overwhelming him. Why the fuck did I do that? He wants to break windows, smash someone’s face in.

“What did you do, Waka?” Benkei asks again, much more resolutely. Takeomi watches them warily, sighing.

“Something you won’t be proud of,” Wakasa mutters darkly.

Benkei stalks over to the counters, reaching over and grabs him by the collar. “What’s not stopping me from beating that shit attitude out of you?” Those two haven’t fought since they were teens. They’ve never laid hands on each other, not since Shinichiro was there. Not since he made them become good companions, a team.

Takeomi stomps on his cigarette, needing to intervene. If Shinichiro had been here, he would’ve already had this mediated. “Hey, now–”

“I think I made a mistake,” Wakasa murmurs softly. The two of them look at him, their friends’ eyes glazed over. They’ve never seen him look like this.

Benkei releases him. “I’m asking you one more time, what happened?”

Wakasa licks his lips, lowering his head. He starts from the beginning.

Mei comes over immediately the following week, staying with you to comfort you. “I can’t believe this. You were doing so much already.”

You sniffle lightly into the bedding. “I’m just tired. I don’t want to talk or even think about it anymore.”

Mei nods, rubbing your back gently. “I’m super sorry. It just seemed like it was working out so well.”

You nod. You had done your work mutely, your parents worrying about why you seemed so down. You needed space, time to think. It hurt, remembering how Wakasa had looked at you. How he had viewed you as something to be thrown aside.

He was the one, a part of you battles with that thought. He’s the one who started it.

You think back at the proximity, the downwards tilt of his chin, his eyes drawing you in. He was alluring, having held this gravitational pull to reel you in. You almost kissed him. You wanted to. Your heart felt it in that moment that it meant so much more.

He pushed you away, but maybe it’s more of an issue with him than it is with you. It’s something he’s grappling with. Maybe he’s the same, not letting anyone too close. He closes himself off because it’s easier to do so.

That makes you more upset at the thought. What you really want to do is fight him. This time where he actually spars with you. He had not gone the pace you asked of him. He had pushed it. He tread a line. How much of this mentor-mentee relationship had been passing through boundaries?

You grumble, burying your head into a pillow. Mei rubs your back in soothing circles.

“Did you maybe want to go see a movie? Go out to Harajuku or we might eat somewhere nice.”

You have a great idea. It’s been a while since you’ve been out on the town. “How about we go clubbing?”

“Where?” Mei asks.

You smile, a mischievous grin. “Kantou area, they have some good bars over there.”

Mei nods. “Let’s do it!”

You find that it’s relaxing getting yourself together. There’s something peaceful in presenting your best side–appearance wise to the rest of the world. It really shows through that you’re not letting whatever knocks you down win.

It’s rejuvenating and being with Mei helps that.

Your dress is a tight fit, one that hugs your body in a way that gives you an enticing look. You’re nervous about wearing something like this, but it’s a cleanse. It's a part of the healing process of rejection , or so says Mei.

The two of you head into a place called Snake’s Den, with a huge, massive dance floor in the center, and a long island bar floating at the back. The booths and tables are at the ends of the area, away from the center, where the massive amounts of people are already jiving to a pounding bass.

You and Mei head to the side, avoiding the dancing bodies and the leering men.

Once you get to the bar, you already begin a tab with the bartender. You needed a drink; you needed to get out. To mingle or something. The bartender slides over the yuzushu², a citrus beverage with alcohol. You down the drink without hesitation. Mei gives you a serious look.

“That was fast? Hey, make sure you don’t drink too much,” she warns.

You wave a hand dismissively. “We’re celebrating a night of farewells.” The thought of Wakasa creeps in your mind, you grimace. He needs to go away. You wave the bartender over, asking for a few other drinks.

You continue like this, going to dance a bit with Mei and getting more drinks, alternating between water and alcohol.

“We should order something to eat,” Mei suggests. When the food comes around, you eat the edamame and the tsukune². Hopefully to weigh down the lightheadedness kicking in.

You order more drinks, chatting and laughing with Mei. Its good being around people again, especially a great friend.

What you don’t realize, in the back corner of the booth area, there is the one person you didn’t want to see. Takeomi, Benkei and Wakasa had just arrived at Snake’s Den.

The three of them keep an eye out for someone to do a deal with. Takeomi assures them the guy is good. Wakasa rarely does things like this, leaving it up to Takeomi. A part of him is sure it’s because his friend is trying to cheer him up. In the worst way possible.

“So,” Takeomi says. It’s been some time since they've relaxed like this. Just the three of them. “How’s the stuff going along?” He makes a wince, realizing the error in the question.

Wakasa narrows his eyes. “What do you think?”

Benkei gives him a warning glance. “Takeomi is just trying to help, even if it’s incorrect.”

He shakes his head, already exhausted.

Wakasa’s glare is deadly. “You know I don’t drink or smoke, right? I don’t enjoy these areas like you do, Takeomi.”

He shrugs, draping his arm over the booth. “I know. You needed some fresh air. You punching your knuckles raw will not help either.”

Wakasa moves his jaw. Sometimes, he wishes his friends could just let him be at peace with his own mistakes, but he knew better. Shinichiro wouldn’t have wanted him to be alone, he knows this. They all do.

He tries to relax, trying not to think of you. The way you had been so malleable moments before and then in tears the next. Him being the cause. It made a pit form in his stomach. He was never supposed to get close. He only meant for this to stay strictly professional. Wakasa felt damned the minute you challenged him. It felt continuous. The way he had left clues for you. His hands brushing against skin, against your hair, seeing you sweat. You struggled your way through it all. He felt proud of those moments. Thankful you wouldn’t see the way he looks at you. He had toyed with you too much, the unabating sensation of you. Wakasa didn’t realize how much he hungered for it. How much of that was stagnant inside of him?

Takeomi orders drinks for the three of them, specifying that Wakasa only gets water. The server leaves. He understands now that he won’t be able to leave until he looks like he’s at least going to get some enjoyment out of this.

He crosses his arms, glancing around the dance floor, the amount of people here invasive.

Wakasa, really to put it delicately, hates his friend sometimes.

You had gotten done with one of too many shots. For whatever reason, something catches your eye. You look around the table areas, all of them full to the brim with people chatting, drinking and laughing. You like to watch people, but then a specific table of three stops you in your tracks. The glass of liquor is not even touching your mouth.

Over by the booth area, sitting there amongst the flashing lights and various people parting away from dancing. You see him . Wakasa Imaushi is right there. You squint, trying to set your glass down, nearly knocking it over.

It couldn’t be. There’s no way. He looked to be talking with Benkei in the middle and Takeomi on the other side. He doesn’t seem like someone who enjoys this sort of scene, so why is he here?

You feel the warmth again, of seeing him looking okay, but the anger that you had stored up within you resurfaces. It lashes out. You smack Mei beside you, who is in a deep talk with an investor. “Mei,” you say. You shake her shoulder. “Mei!”

She says goodbye to the man, who throws an uneasy look your way, leaving her. Mei swivels around, frowning. “Are you kidding me?! He was cute! What do you want?”

“It’s him,” you say.

Mei raises an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Who? Is it Jun?” She stretches her neck, looking for him. You shake your head, getting her attention.

“No, worse. It’s him,” you repeat with a stronger emphasis.

Mei gasps. “Where?! The guy from the gym? He’s here?”

“He’s at one of the back tables with his friends. What’s he doing here?” You whine, the ache in your heart wedging itself into your ribs. You can’t do this again. You can’t face him.

“Him?!” Mei yells over the music, spotting the general direction you pointed in. “Oh my gosh, he is hot.”

“No!” You shout. Mei looks hard at the table, trying to see him better. “No, he isn’t. Don’t give him that. Also, don’t stare!”

Mei looks at you like you’re insane. “But you also think he’s hot?”

You puff out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, he is, but he’s so–”. Your mind conjures up the incident, a horrible reminder of why you’re here. To forget about that. To forget about how he talked to you. How he told you to leave. He’s the one who should drink himself in regret. Wakasa should drown in guilt. Why is it always you left to suffer?

Mei gives you a sly look, all too knowing. “I mean, he seems willing if he tried to kiss you–”

“Don’t say it,” you groan.

“Sex!” Mei shouts, giddy. “You two could just have sex. Why not! It’d be fun. You have done nothing since your ex. You need to get out there.”

“Need I remind you why we’re here,” you say through clenched teeth. “It’s because he told me to leave. He kicked me to the curb!”

Mei grimaces. “I mean, that’ll just make it sexier, I think.”

“No, Mei!”

This is getting you nowhere.

You shake your head, slapping your cheeks. This time, people looked in your general direction. “He can’t stand me, and I can’t stand him. I’m going over there,” you say. You stand up straight, but your feet ache. You down the rest of your drink.

Mei tries to stop you, worried. “No, you should not. You’re going to get laughed at!”

You remove her hand away from you. “I have something to prove. He won’t one up me this time!”

“He’s not picking a fight with you!” Mei hollers, making a face. “There’s no stopping that one,” she narrates to herself, sipping her martini. Mei plucks out the olive to eat while eyeing you from afar in interest. “Might as well buckle in for this.”

You groan. “Stupid fucking shoes!” You snap, you remove the heels, flinging them somewhere away from you on the dance floor. There are shouts in the direction you flung them in. “Hey! Who the hell threw shoes?!” You hear.

You ignore it, with a one track mind. You take note offhandedly that Wakasa has his hair down³. It’s gorgeous. He really is a handsome man. You sneer. This isn’t the time to be smitten by him. You remind yourself to focus.

You will get him back. You nearly fall over, but you slam your hands down onto the table; alerting the surrounding men.

Wakasa looks up, not reacting, but you can see the way his jaw ticks. Huh, that is attractive. No! Your mind screams. Focus.  

“Excuse me, gentleman,” you don’t realize it, but you’re slurring. You feel heavy and warm. All three of them look up at you. Wakasa’s expression remains unchanging. The lights of the club give him a stunning glow.

“What’re you doing?” Wakasa has the audacity to ask. He sounds irate. What reason does he have to sound that way?

You pull your dress down, you can feel it riding up your thighs. “You,” you point directly at him. “I have a bone to pick with you?”

Wakasa eyes you intently. He’s unsure of what you’re playing at. “Why?”

“We need to finish what we started–back at the gym. Or here, I don’t care. I’m going to win this time at our spar.”

His two friends next to him watch the interaction. Benkei coughs. “I think she needs you to confirm some things.”

Takeomi’s smoke rises away from the table, puffing in interest. Wakasa gives them each a chilling glare, then his bored eyes meet yours.

“Let’s go outside,” he offers, getting up. You huff, once again pulling at the hem of your silly dress. You were going to kill Mei over this. “Well excuse me, men.”

You follow him, the way he doesn’t look back to even see if you’re there, firing you up more. He’s such an ass. Once you thought that. In some weird moment, as if he could hear your thoughts. Wakasa stops to check on you, probably realizing his mistake. Huh? You think. “Here, grab my hand,” he offers.

There’s a sudden push right then. “Move, bitch!” A burly man grunts out. The sheer force of him throwing you off balance.

Wakasa catches you in his arms, the two of you glaring at the respected man.

“Hey!” You holler before Wakasa can say anything.

The man turns to the two of you, unimpressed. “You don’t fucking push a lady, asshole!” You say, getting into his face.

The man’s about to say something, but whatever is going on around you goes unnoticed. You don’t realize the way Wakasa looks viciously at the man or the fact that he realizes Takeomi and Benkei both rise from their seats at seeing the altercation. The man looks around, not even concerned with you, now.

“Whatever, watch your girl, man. Or someone else will.” He threatens before stalking off. Wakasa watches him leave. He throws a glance at Benkei and Takeomi, then grabs you by the arm. “Hey!” You gripe at him, resisting.

When you both reach out into the back alley, he releases you. “What is your problem?!” You snap at him.

Wakasa looks at you. He runs a hand through his hair. “No, I should ask you that?”

“What?” You hiss. “You can’t beat me to that. You’re the one with the problem? What is going on with you?”

He scowls then. “What’re you doing here?”

How dare he keep asking over your own questions! “I told you,” you grit your teeth. “I’m here to finish what we started back at the gym. You didn’t finish your lesson, and you called it quits before we even got the chance.”

His eyes search you, you’ve never seen him gauge you like this before. Unless he’s just been really good at hiding it this time. “We called it quits that day because we needed a break.”

“No!” You retort. “You were the one who needed a break. You said it.”

Wakasa’s frown deepens. “It was, for both of our sakes. I went too far. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You were going to kiss me,” you slur. In your drunken haze, the puzzle pieces clicked together. You knew then, kind of, but now you definitely know. “I have a lot to say about that.”

“That—” He breaks off, not looking at you. “I knew it wasn’t a good time, but you keep–.”

He’s so wrong. “Are you accusing me now?” You interrupt, losing a bit of your balance, already dizzy. The drinks you chugged catching up to you. Wakasa eyes you, his brows furrowing.

“You’re inebriated. We can’t have this conversation right now.”

Your hand presses against his chest. He holds onto your wrist, making sure you don’t fall over. “Oh, we are and we can have this conversation now,” the words don’t come out. They’re in a mumbled mess. Wakasa doesn’t smile at all. He looks serious, in the way he always does. Though in the dim lighting of the alley, he looks at you with questioning eyes. He seems uncertain, trying to hold you at arm’s length in the metaphorical sense.

“You were going to kiss me! And that’s not fair, cause you know why? I wanted to kiss you too!” You jab a finger into his chest then, nearly losing your footing, but you grab onto him.

Wakasa’s gaze softens considerably, that look in his eye no longer accusatory.

“Yup,” you say. “I did, and you know why! Because I think you’re incredibly attractive and I think about all the times you would touch me, which also you should be careful about,” you warn. You lean to the side a little and Wakasa grabs you by the waist.  

“Okay, hey, that's enough,” he tries to stop you.

You move too much in his hold. “No! Listen to me, it’s my turn! I like you and you’re weak to not have kissed me. So I’m going to do it first–” you purse your lips, attempting to stand on your tiptoes. Wakasa is at a loss for what to do, but grabs you by the shoulders to not let you get any closer.

“Hey, we can’t do this right now,” he murmurs. You suddenly hiccup, pressing your forehead against his chest. You hide there for a moment. You can hear his heartbeat, a residual thud that is constant and soothing. You want to stay like this. You know better, though. You knew exactly the route this would go down. You’re tired of tucking away your feelings, keeping them for safety. If he takes it, it shouldn’t be your problem. But it is. The thought of him not feeling the same way. Your lower lip trembles.

“I hope you like me back,” you whisper more to yourself than him. You feel the prickle of tears. Wakasa wraps his arms around you; a gentle squeeze. He’s warm. He smells good. That sort of refreshing mint scent that lingers with him. It’s calming. You snuggle your face close to him. “I like you a lot, even when I shouldn’t, because of my past relationship and the fact that you’re my trainer,” you confess.

Wakasa rubs your back, trying not to touch your skin too much. Your cursed dress had an open back. He can hear you start to snore. Seriously?

He pulls you back and your head lolls to the front. “Hey, wake up, you got to go back–”

You moan, pushing on his chest. “My stomach.” You try to move backward, but he stops you from it. You don’t have the words to tell him you felt ill.

“Wait–”

You pull away, leaning over, the sounds of vomiting coming from you. Wakasa sighs, feeling entirely unsurprised, just accepting it. He can sense the bile on his shoes. Shit.

You collapse back into his arms, snoring.

“I can take her home,” Wakasa says to Mei.

Mei eyes you worriedly, then back at him. “Alright, but take good care of her. Don’t tell her she puked on you. She will die from embarrassment.”

Wakasa waves her off. “It’s fine,” he glances towards his friends, waving them over. “Can you two get Mei home?” Benkei nods to that, glancing at you being carried.

“And this one?” He gestures.

“I’ll take care of her. We got some stuff to talk about.” The three people around him notice the way he holds you; as if you were something special. Something he wouldn’t want to let go of.

Takeomi raises a brow, a cheeky grin on him. “Finally.”

Wakasa gazes at you while you’re asleep in his cot. He’s unsure of what to do, since that time before he’s been trying to banish every single thought of you.

All of the lessons and the planning. Every single thought of you since the beginning has distracted him. Just you . It grew frustrating. No one has ever been on his mind that much. The way you would come in and just flip his world around. There’s not many people who he finds amusing, so you existing, and being around really turned everything outward.

All the times he’s felt being near you. It’s odd, for someone like him, to feel those certain emotions. He thinks of Shinichiro who was so desperate to have a relationship, getting shot down every single time. It was admirable. He never really put himself out there that much. So being in this situation, where his friend once was, is just off.

Benkei had realized it before him. There were times he’d be there, observing the two of you. Benkei noticed how often Wakasa looked at you. He had pointed it out, it made him feel exposed.

It’s like an open wound he carries; a massive lesion that no matter how many times he patches up, it never fully heals. Wakasa liking you, felt exactly like being punched in the face, but the thrill of that after never leaving. It’s all the times he’s faced off against titans and won. When he would freely maneuver in the air, having these emotions, strong and heady felt exactly like flying. It made his blood thrum through his veins. The same way he would walk away from fights bloodied, grinning, and alive.

It’s both exhilarating and a heavy weight he carries. He stares at your sleeping form and he walks over to you. Wakasa watches the way your chest rises and falls, curled into yourself. His hand brushes against your cheek, gently moving hair away from your face. He leans close to whisper in your ear. “I’m sorry for everything.”

When you wake up in the morning, there are three things that are obvious.

You are not in your apartment, your head is pounding horribly, and there are insistent sounds of something being struck.

You try to think, but you wince. “Ouch, it feels like I got shat out,” you mumble, rubbing your temples.

Your memory is blurry as you try to remember the events that led you to here. You remember you were with Mei; you had been drinking; you saw Wakasa, and then you followed him.

Then it hits you all at once. You had told him things that night. You had laid your heart bare to him. It was there, out in the open, for him to examine. You just can’t remember the after. Why are you here? You recognize it looks an awful lot like the gym.

Wakasa’s words from a while returning to you. “My home is this gym.” You gasp. You’re in Wakasa’s room. You look around then.

A simple bed, a desk, a bookshelf, some appliances. Oh god. You’re here with Wakasa. You went home with Wakasa.

The panic sets in and you feel dizzy. A mixture of both the headache and the feeling of seeing him again.

You had hugged him; you had told him everything. You slap your forehead. He must really think you’re horrible. A wretched person. Someone foolish enough to fall for their trainer.

Idiot.

You continue hearing that specific noise of chains rattling. You gather your bearings; you try to breathe calmly. Could you face him like this? How you look must be a serious mess.

You wish you could at least call Mei or conjure up some mirror to fix your appearance.

When you finally muster up the courage, you feel your nerves take over. You would have to see him. The conversation wasn’t over that night. He hasn’t even apologized to you about kicking you out. He completely cut it off.

You do some breathing exercises to relax. You do not know what he’s going to say. How does he view you now after all that has been done? You cannot bear to be on the receiving end of that look.

You shake your head. You need to go out there. You need to end this. Even though you don’t want it to. You want to cling desperately to those feelings. You never want to let go of all the good you had with Wakasa. Being with him, whether it was as acquaintances or a trainer giving advice, he had made you feel better.

You didn’t want that to change.

Ultimately, a decision needed to be made.

You find him over by the punching bags and he is tearing into one. He’s moving quickly, the bag seeming to bend every time he strikes it, doing more impressive kicks to it. Wakasa in action is truly dangerous.

You stand there for a moment in awe, unsure of what to say. You haven’t seen him since then, at least not sober. Wakasa stops then, landing one more harsh kick against the side causing the bag to jostle and the chain to rattle loudly. His shoulders slump, exhausted. He must’ve been doing that for a while.

Wakasa looks at you then, his eyes sharper than usual. You swallow, your heart thumping much more loudly. “Hey,” you say weakly. You want to wring yourself around the neck. Be confident.

“How’d you sleep?” He asks, walking over to one of the metal chairs. Beside it all of his things are there, including a water bottle.

When he removes his boxing gloves, you notice his knuckles are healing over. They looked to have been torn up from a fight. You try to look away, but he catches you staring.

He waits then. You need to give him a response to his question at some point. “Never better,” you say. You scowl. “No, that's not what I wanted to say. I want to talk to you.”

He sits on the chair then, leaning forward. “About?”

You realize he will not make this easy. Somehow that makes you more upset. “Don’t you have a few things to say to me first?”

You both stare at one another in a standstill. Wakasa looks away then, shaking his head.

“Wakasa, you owe me an explanation. You can at least give me that courtesy,” you say, crossing your arms. You feel barren. Entirely too open for your own good.

He juts his jaw forward stubbornly. “I struggle with this,” he says finally. He swallows. You can tell whatever he’s trying to voice is hard for him. “I did a lot of shit and you know this is one time I didn’t feel proud of it.”

You wrinkle your brows together, trying to parse together what he even means. “I hurt you. I pushed you away after everything. I didn’t explain an ounce of anything other than our training.” Wakasa looks down at his hands, his finger tracing against the calluses on his palm. “Being around you feels exactly like all the times I’ve gotten into fights. When I’m in the moment, I feel exactly what you make me feel.”

Your lips part, your neck growing warm. Is this a confession? It has to be right?

“Wakasa,” you say his name like it is a breath wedged between your ribs and lungs.

“I feel intense when I’m around you. I want to be in your space, in your hands and everywhere all at once.” He admits this out loud: it makes you feel alive . You’ve heard nothing like this before. It felt sentimental and secretive; and it’s being shared with you. This is what Wakasa has been hiding from you since you’ve known him. Those feelings are made clear now. Is this how he has been feeling for you this entire time?

He sits there for a moment, the silence the only thing between you two. You should say something to that. Anything. You just can’t. Your mouth finally moves.

“Wakasa, I didn’t know. I mean I thought I suspected, but I told myself I was imagining it.” The tears well up despite yourself. He’s been feeling these emotions the whole time. That’s painful, you think. To be alone with such thoughts of someone who may or may not want you back. You were only there to be under his instruction, he knew that better than anyone else, you leaving eventually is expected. You don’t want to leave, but you don’t know how to tell him.

“Did you mean everything you said last night?” Wakasa casts an attentive gaze towards you. That’s a question begging to be answered. Your stomach turns inside of you, the anxiety of admitting to him everything you feel. There it is. Your weakness. You don’t want to.

Your heart wants to say: yes, yes I did mean it. I liked you since the first time I caught eyes with you; but you’re terrified. You don’t want this to end up being something that ends almost immediately. Your heart cannot take that again. It cannot live with itself being broken, only to heal with crooked pieces in place.

Wakasa is still waiting for your response. His face betrays his inner feelings, but his eyes tell so much. It’s like a magnetic pull.

You hesitate, you don’t know what to say. You want to save yourself from the embarrassment of another confession and another broken heart. Pathetic. It’s a weakness. You realize all along Jun had a point in what he told you.

You had asked him for honesty and he did that for you. You cannot do the same for him. “I don’t remember,” you reveal, the hesitation loud and clear. You look away from him, down at his feet. You cannot bear the weight of that gaze any longer.

Wakasa is quiet for a moment. Then you can hear him inhale sharply, turning away from you. He gathers everything with him, packing it up. When he finally has everything ready, he’s going to walk out of that door and never turn to face you. You will no longer hear him give directions on your form or the way he looks at you with so much in those eyes. You will never get to be around him.

That is worse than the exposure of your embarrassment or vulnerability; losing him hurts so much more than any of that.

You follow him. He had given you exactly what you wanted. Wakasa laid his heart out for you to accept it, yet you spit it right back. You feel the crushing force of shame. How could you be so cowardly?

“Wait–Wakasa, please , wait!” You call out to him. Everything feels smothering. You don’t want to lose him.

He continues onward, shaking his head. You feel your chest tighten. The tears welling up. “Wait, goddammit! Let me explain, please!” Your voice rising to a panic.

Wakasa pauses, still not facing you, but you can tell his shoulders are tense. He’s breathing heavily. You swallow, gaining the courage. Since everything that has happened, you recognize now that you are not weak. His words from before coming back to you. You’re stronger than you know. It was Wakasa who had given you that word, and you will continue to show that he is right.

You always stopped yourself from moving forward, from letting others really get to know you deep down. You were the brakes, the glowing red light that caused people to leave you eventually and you would let them.

Not this time. You won’t be. You will tell him. Just how he told you so much without even a word. There was always a promise there. “I lied. I know what you’re thinking. How can you trust anything that comes out of my mouth?” You control your breathing, but you feel the nausea. “I like you so much. I think I did since I first met you when you gave me your unsolicited advice.” You laugh a little through tears. “Between the times you would tease me or encourage me. I think not being able to be around you anymore because of my mistake of letting you go would hurt so much more.” The tears fall then, unabashedly. You let them. He needs to know. “I am weak, that is correct, but I am strong in so many ways. I want to be strong in every capacity. So, I like you. I meant every word last night. Every single thing. I meant it.”

You let it out into the air. It is fully up to him now. Whether he will want to stay with you or let you go, not taking anything you said for certain. That will just be something you will have to live with. You feel the cracks beginning again, that shattering. This time, though, it hurts more. It is raw, and it is like the sensation of a gaping wound. The loss of something before it even began.

What you do not expect is Wakasa, a quiet, collected Wakasa Imaushi to take deliberate steps towards you, dropping his things.

He cups your face, his thumbs wiping your tears away. Wakasa moves close, his lips touching your forehead. You sigh, absolutely at peace with this. A simple action can mean so much. That is all he has ever done. Those hands were always the gentlest part about him.

“Go home,” he murmurs against your skin. Your heart sinks at that. Wakasa makes a face at your disheartened look, his eyes drawing you in. He has so much more to say. “I want you to get cleaned up, and then meet me here.”

“Oh,” you say shakily. “I thought I was going to be banished from here.”

Wakasa pulls away from you, studying your face. His eyes oozed with ardor. “I am going to do so many things to make it up to you. Just come back to me.”

You feel yourself grow warm. Oh. “I mean, there’s a convenience store nearby where I can get a toothbrush and bathe here,” you say in a daze.

Wakasa’s coquettish grin appears at your suggestion. “Works for me,” he says smoothly.

When you wake up, you’re close to him, covers draped over both of your bodies. His hair is messy, but his face is serene in the morning light. You look at him, memorizing every inch of him. The way he sleeps on his stomach and the gentle breathing you find comfort in. You touch his cheek, your fingers tenderly moving to trace his brow line.

Your heart flutters fondly. You adore him. It’s incredible how quickly the feelings developed. You’re drawn to him, absolutely infatuated. He had the arrogance of someone who had every right. A knowing presence with his quips and reassurance. He never once belittled you. He always took great care in reminding you how capable you really were. You kiss him lightly on the nose, moving closer to him.

His eyes open slowly, like hyacinths in spring. He hums. “Good morning,” you say, heart pounding.

Wakasa drapes an arm over you, his hand rubbing against your arm. He moves then to be on his side. His hand coming back to touch your face. Wakasa kisses you. His lips gently prodding yours open, you moan lightly against him. It’s unfair how gentle he is. He breaks away then to look at you. “Did you sleep alright?” He asks then.

You nod, bringing yourself close to kiss his shoulder. “I did, and you?”

He smiles, a genuine, not teasing grin. It is brilliant. “Never better.”

#wakasa imaushi x reader #wakasa imaushi x you #wakasa x reader #tokyometronetwork #tokrev reader

[portfolio-of-dreams]

summer mornings with you. | junpei yoshino x gn! reader

content: fluff, slice of life || warnings: none

w/c: 1.6k

a/n: this is for @sweetsbysatori “summer of love” collab! this was so cute and i’m really happy with the outcome! thank you for hosting this and allowing me to participate! also huge thank you to @h-shibas & @kazububs for being my beta readers<3

A soft golden glint whispered its way through the translucent glass of your 3rd floor apartment bedroom. New white rays shift through the window and curtain just the same, pouring out in tanned hues that weave together and fall across the white bedspread. Varied shades of brown like sand dunes at dawn, as alluring as the lightest of timber carried ashore upon windswept waves in the crescent gleam of the moon. Amid the light, the beams move as if to wave with the undulating pleats, yet in truth they are strong and true, giving structure and form. As the moments pass the intensity rises and softens, valiant yet gentle, telling of the day that passes in the world beyond. 

The summer air has fully hit and the slight humidity in the air makes your hair stick to your forehead. The only sound is the slight whir of the small fan on the side table as it whirs and tetters against the wood from not being sat flatly. You’re still dazed as you slide your hand across the bed to only feel a warm empty space. You slowly sit up, knitting your eyebrows in confusion over the missing presence. You tossed the thin bed sheet off of the only leg it covered and pulled on a pair of cotton shorts to tread through the apartment.

“Jun? Junpei?” Your words echo through the empty hallway.

You two didn’t have much, but what really did you need? You had a bed to sleep on, a small bookshelf with your favorite books on the bottom two shelves and his favorite movies on the top two shelves. He did it that way so it was easier on you to reach your novels when you needed them, and he was taller, so it made sense. You had a TV to watch the movies on but no couch. The two of you would drag the mattress from the bedroom to the living area and end up falling asleep to whatever movie he decided on that night. You had the basics and you had each other, which is all you really needed.

You eventually made your way to the kitchen where you finally found Junpei. He had pancake mix stained across his shirt and face, broken eggs on the counter and a small bowl of poorly cut fruit. He was bent over the sink, nursing his finger- probably more dramatically then he should. He was running it under the water and blowing air puffs onto the skin when you cleared your throat behind him.

“Oh, you- uh, aren’t supposed to be up yet…” He spoke with a soft smile as his free hand rubbed nervously at the back of his neck before wrapping a bandage around his index finger.

“Jun, it’s not even 9am and you’ve made a mess of the kitchen.” A soft chuckle leaves your lips as you pick up a piece of an egg shell. 

His cheeks dusted a soft pink as his dark hair fell over both eyes in defeat. You smile at him, still, as you look at the mess. Cracked egg shells on the corner of the counter that are stained with coffee rings from uncleaned spills. The tops of strawberries sit around his feet and in the sink and a pure white flour lightly dusts the floor and Junpei’s cheek. You brush your thumb over his skin to wipe it away which only makes his blush grow darker. The small window above the sink was cracked and beaked choruses of birds sang through the opening. The soft hum of the seasonal sun sizzled against the screen as the transparent cotton clouds bracketed themselves to the eternal summer sky.

“I appreciate you, Jun.” - You place a kiss to the spot your thumb was, warm and soft against your lips- “Let’s clean this up and I’ll help you make something for us.”

He nods in response and gets the old wicker broom from the closet to sweep up the strawberry hats and eggshells. You took the old kitchen towel from where it was hung over the bar on the oven, red spaghetti sauce stains littered the edges from last night. You wiped the countertops and put the dishes in the sink to wash later. You finally scrubbed those stubborn coffee rings off the vinyled top. After everything was cleaned up, it turns out you had no butter left, three eggs and one was cracked at the top; but you did have fruit and a few pieces of sponge cakes left from the visit to your grandmother's last weekend. You walked over to the fridge and found you still had whipped cream- that would be breakfast.

“Hey Junpei, can you bring the mattress and the fan to the TV room? I just want to have a movie day- it’s too hot to go anywhere.” You smiled at him over your shoulder as you closed the refrigerator. 

“Sure, sweetheart.” He spoke as he walked down the hall to your shared bedroom. 

He walked back in from the bedroom, dragging the full sized mattress behind him. Small veins snaked up his biceps, and his hair fell down over his eyes as it stuck to his forehead from the humidity in the room. He dropped it down flat, with a plop against the floor that echoed in the small space. You put together little fruit cakes on a paper plate using the fruits Junpei cut and washed earlier; strawberries, blueberries, raggedly cut apple chunks (he did his best), and kiwi.  You grabbed the container of whipped cream from the shelf in the door of the refrigerator, and made your way to the living room.

“We can order take out later. I don’t want to try to throw anything together with what we have left in the kitchen.” You giggled at him as you sat down on the mattress.

He blushed, again but offered you a warm smile. One that, even though he was embarrassed, you could feel the love radiating from. It pulsated in strums and enveloped you like a plush blanket. It was inviting and felt safe- like home. He was becoming your home. You could live in boxes that wilted like lilies in the rain, or mansions on high hilltops that echoed the autumn winds- nothing mattered as long as you got to keep him at your side. He leaned down, resting his hands against his thighs, right above his kneecaps and opened his mouth. 

“Give me a bite! Please?”

“Sure” He missed the coy grin that captured your lips as you feigned innocence.

You took one of the cakes in your hands and started to bring it up to his agape mouth. Right as he was about to take a bite- you squirted the whipped cream onto his face, only getting some into his mouth. You couldn’t help but fall onto your back laughing as he moved his tongue up his cheek to try to get the sweet treat. Your eyes were closed as you tried to stiffen your giggles and in that unsuspecting moment Junpei quickly stole the container from beside you and pressed down on the nozzle, covering your cheek. He hovered over you as he rubbed his face against yours, peppering your skin with open-mouthed, sticky kisses.

“Jun! You’ll get us both gross with that!” You breathlessly said in between laughs.

“Guess you should’ve thought about that before you challenged me.” - He places one more kiss on your warm cheek before pulling away- “I’ve got an idea. Stay here.”

He swiftly got up, grabbing a sheet, a few of the boxes that cluttered against the back wall of the room and the broom from the kitchen. He unscrewed the bottom broom piece from the wooden stick and stacked the boxes at the front corners of the mattress. He fluffed out the sheet over the top and stood the pole in the middle to hold it up. He plugged the small fan in the outlet in the wall in front of you and turned it on to the middle setting- blowing in to keep the sheet up. 

“Ta-da! A fort thing.” He smiled triumphantly, peering into the opening at you, before turning his back to pick a movie. 

You smiled to yourself as you took a bite of a strawberry. You were sure he’d pick an action movie because it was one of the genres you both agreed too. He was a true horror movie fanatic but you were a true scaredy-cat. He slid the disk into the dvd player and crawled up next to you under the sheet. The infamous title screen cast across the small boxed television you owned that was set up on a stand you found on the side of the road for free and refinished one lazy Sunday afternoon. You curled up next to him, laying your head in his lap as he began to run his fingers absentmindedly through your hair- the way you always watched movies.

You glanced up at him, as scenes of the movie reflected and danced in mirrored images in his eyes. He was fixated on the screen- seeing the cars race along the dirt roads on the film. He really did love movies and found so much joy in them. You could feel your heart, calming beats erupting through your chest as kindling heat spread through your body. After a while, he noticed you were staring.

“Something wrong?” he looked at you, concern laced in his amber honey eyes.

A soft smile spread across your face as you reached over to brush his hair off of his forehead, tracing the outline of his scars with ghosted fingertips, “You promise you’ll always watch movies with me?”

He places a soft, lingering kiss to the center of your forehead and whispers against your skin, “I promise.”

tagging: @islascafe @akihaya @arlertslove @aces-high @wakasasucker @rxmera @kisakiapologist​ @ry0m3n​ @blueparadis​ @fairyfuyu @koucaine @bokuroskitten @momoewn @planetonet @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi

#portfolio of dreams #junpei yoshino #junpei yoshino x reader #junpei yoshino x you #jjk junpei #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #tokyometronetwork #downtownroponggi #planeto🪐

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 17. wicked games

chapter tags/warnings: family drama. mentions of masturbation. mentions of sex. infidelity/adultery. nonconsensual acts. manipulative undertones. strong language. classism.

word count: 3.6k

notes: this chapter incorporates the official manga relationships in the zenin household (link that illustrates the family tree). without further ado, i present to you the latest pov added to the fic: toji! likes, comments, and reblogs are deeply appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Toji Fushiguro could not get his mind off of you.

Was that weird to admit?

When he last saw you two weeks ago in Teyvat’s meeting room, dolled up in that pretty pink dress, he had to wrestle every urge to push you onto his dick. All the times he had to retreat to his room afterward too—all because your one outfit had set off his imagination—forcing Toji to lock and then lean against his door so that he could palm himself through his sweats to dirty thoughts about you.

Gosh, what higher being in the universe allowed you to be such a hot and sexy tease? You sure loved prancing around with basically nothing and stealing looks at his colleagues as though he wouldn’t notice.

At this point, Toji was certain that he wasn’t the only therapist calling dibs on you. That most definitely pissed him off, though, because he explicitly told you that your pussy belonged to him.

Then why hadn’t you made another appointment these past two weeks?

Were you upset, perhaps flushed with utter denial, from the revelation that your husband had been cheating on you? Besides, he recalled how you had reacted so strongly to the information, racing away from the therapists who were just being honest with you.

In hindsight, Toji might have felt a teeny tiny bit bad about crushing your rose-colored glasses without much lead-up, but he was rarely the type to beat around the bush anyway. After all, he was the one to suggest a divorce in your first therapist appointment.

Of all things, echoing laughter was what finally grounded Toji’s wandering mind.

His green eyes fluttered rapidly, realizing that he had been in his office and staring blankly at his desk for... how long has this been? He glanced briefly at his tabletop clock. When he noticed how the time had advanced by thirty minutes, Toji rested his forehead on his left palm. “Damn...”

Given how he had a fully booked schedule today, he could not afford to dawdle in his thoughts. He had not noticed that half an hour had passed so quickly. How was it possible that thinking about one person (you) made him lose all sense of time?

He could do better than this.

‘Maybe you’re the one who needs a therapist,’ Megumi had recently pointed out to him in irony, and boy, do these words from his own eighteen-year-old son sting.

In contrast to himself, though, his co-workers had lately been in higher spirits than usual. That much Toji could ascertain given the hubbub that continued to filter into his suite. He would not have minded the phenomenon much had it not been for this gut feeling, this hunch, that you were the reason behind this change.

At his age, Toji has learned to mind his own business, but he still considered joining his colleagues by the reception desk to investigate. He stopped, however, upon noticing an article at his desk.

Right, this was what had derailed Toji from his work.

‘Look at this, boss,’ Geto had said when he first presented the printed webpage to Toji. ‘No wonder Y/N’s been lonely. Naoya literally took his side bitch to Mexico.’

The accompanying photo may be in low resolution, but Toji recognized the two figures hand-in-hand, stepping into a private jet. Their faces were shielded by baseball caps and face masks, their bodies clad in boring and baggy clothes. Consequently, Toji had to scoff, drumming his fingers along his cheekbone. 

Another impeccable snapshot for our collection, huh?

Quite the scandal was brewing in Japan’s high society, not to mention how the illicit relationship involved your husband, and the therapists were merely here for the show. This was what the therapists were trying to advise you about before you promptly shut yourself away from them.

The love affair—especially involving a family as influential as the Zenin’s—should theoretically be all over magazines and newspapers, but any internet search for this image would prove futile. The Zenins were good like that, relying on under-the-table tactics to ensure that this photo would go nowhere.

Only thanks to his colleagues, who had extensive contacts throughout Japan’s many ranks, was Toji able to get his hands on this printed article before the magazine editors had taken them down.

Naoya, that cunning bastard.

If he had been in Cabo prancing around with his paramour, how did he so quickly realize that his images had been circulating among Japanese media? Or, more likely, was it his authoritarian father Naobito who informed his doltish son about the impending rumors?

Either way, Toji could not believe that he was affiliated with both assholes by blood, no less: Naoya, his cousin, and Naobito, his uncle. To think how he was involved again with the relatives who he had sought to avoid, Toji assumed that fate must love toying with him.

Already, growing up in the Zenin family was hell, to put things mildly: how they would obsess over power and prestige as though those two items alone determined one’s value as a human being, how they would scrutinize one’s every action because everything had to conform to their cookie-cutter standards, and then how they would abruptly cast aside those who strayed away from their ideals.

Toji, once an established member of the household, could speak from experience. Thus, blood relation meant nothing if these were the same people who had prayed for his downfall. 

He recalled his relatives’ dirty glances when he announced his engagement twenty years ago, then the even nastier looks when he took his first wife’s surname as his own: Fushiguro. ‘She’s a woman too low for our caliber,’ Toji had been told. 

He remembered the apathy he later received after his wife’s untimely death, followed by belittlement when he chose to marry again—this time, to a single mother. Perhaps he should have heeded his family’s advice for the last bit, but his decisions seemed right at the moment. During a desperate time, he provided his then-gradeschool son with a much-needed maternal figure as well as a stepsister.  

His personal life already made him a deviant among his relatives, so when his family discovered his therapist ventures earlier this year, Toji was not surprised to be severed from the household he once had been considered to lead. Well, Toji was more relieved than bitter, anyway. He could now live life on his terms without worrying about what his father’s uncle’s second cousin twice-removed or some crap like that thought about him and his son.

As he gazed upon the pixelated photo again, he sighed and wondered: was this how low the Zenins have stooped since they had expelled him? A centuries-old bloodline built on relationships with the public and the powerful, now resorting to bribes and threats to sweep scandals under the rug? While watching the Zenin clan burn from afar was entertaining, the situation was also pathetic and sad.

To also think that his moronic cousin Naoya was now not only the household heir but also the current CEO of the family conglomerate. Not to mention that the family’s current patriarch Naobito seemingly turned a blind eye to Naoya’s flings. The older Zenin might have been a brilliant businessman back in the early ‘90s, but his elderly brain had deteriorated too far to see how, at this rate, his son would eventually drive the company and the prideful family to the ground.

Had you realized what you married into?

Probably not, but you didn’t deserve this.

Or, to put things the other way around, the Zenin family didn’t deserve you.

“Yo!”

Toji shot up from his seat just as his door crashed against the wall.

He turned to the sound’s source in surprise. Leaning against the entryway stood a personage with his white lab coat draped over his unsurprisingly shirtless chest. The incomer crossed his thick arms over his half-exposed tattoos, but one such arm frees itself to greet Toji with a mocking wave.

“Sukuna,” the older therapist grumbled, “I’ve told you to knock first.”

“Why?” the pink-haired man challenged, not caring how this must have been the hundredth time he heard the order. For him, this was in one ear and out the other. Rather than mind the complaint, he inspected his newly filed nails. “Worried I would walk into you fingering Mrs. Zenin again?”

“Only because that’ll make you jealous,” Toji retorted with equal spite, to which his colleague chose not to respond anymore.

Besides, as a savvy businessman, Sukuna knew how to pick his battles. He might come off as crude, but only because he understood that, with his financial acumen and incredible connections, he was an indispensable asset.

After some silence, Sukuna’s chest rose and fell with a long sigh. “Well, check your schedule, Fushiguro. You have an appointment coming up now.” Not only was he the most well-organized therapist but also the current receptionist on duty. He then huffed again. “Tsumiki’s mom has been waiting for you. I don’t know how you deal with such an impatient bitch. What the hell am I supposed to do when—"

And a hand shoved his face away before he could finish.

Sukuna, flinching from the unexpected approach, recoiled at a beaming woman that peered in from the door frame. Anyone would immediately notice that the overly excited client was beautiful. The plush of her full lips, the gentle arches to her face, the roundness in her doe-like eyes—her looks were akin to an angel constantly in awe. Most people could hardly believe that, with her youthful looks, she actually had a university-aged daughter (with whom Toji could see a strong resemblance, too).

Meanwhile, her large brown eyes scanned the office—the posters, the couch, the nearby mirror—until her gaze landed on Toji and lit up.

“Honey, I’ve missed you!”

Before someone could stop her, the woman welcomed herself into the premises, her lithe limbs swaying with her graceful figure. She sported a simple navy dress that contrasted with her true self because, as far as Toji knew, this woman was anything but simple.

In fact, as she sashayed into the room uninvited, Toji remembered the paparazzi pictures still sprawled on his desk. He caught Sukuna’s maroon gaze and scowled.

This is why I tell you to knock.

Hurriedly, Toji then pushed the photos under some files just as his client seated herself in the sofa seat closest to him. She then turned to her escort in the hall. “Thank you, Sukuna. You’re such a wonderful man.”

She might be oblivious to Sukuna’s irritation, but Toji did not miss the way his colleague hid a gag and rolled his eyes. “M'kay, whatever,” the pink-haired therapist muttered as he slinked back into the corridor.

Then, when Sukuna shut the door with him, she pressed her rosy lips together. “Aw, Strawberry Boy doesn’t want to join us. Guess he likes to play hard to get.”

“Mari,” Toji started, placing his right ankle over the other knee. He rested his back against his chair and held his hands behind his neck. “I do not think neither Sukuna nor any other therapist here is interested in you. Therefore, if you are seeking a summertime fling, I’d suggest you pursue someone else.”

Shot down, an exasperated Mari tossed her dark locks to one side, a die-hard habit of hers. “Like who?”

Like Naoya.

It was hilarious for Toji to think about how he was entangled with his cousin’s mistress, the very same lover in that paparazzi photo with the young executive. In fact, Toji had this theory that Naoya sent Mari here as a Trojan horse, a seemingly harmless client whose actual intention was to gather intel for the Zenin CEO from afar, a pretty façade to lure others into ruins. He didn’t have much evidence to back up the suspicion (yet), but he knew Naoya for long enough to be familiar with the silly games he’d play. Did Naoya and Mari really think that Toji would be so naïve?

“Well, in Tokyo, there are plenty of ways to meet people your age,” he finally suggested and had to suppress a slight smile before adding, “Unless...you’re into younger guys?”

Mari narrowed her eyes but for a millisecond. Had Toji not been at the top of his field, he would not have noticed. Nothing, however, got past him.

“But,” she responded, “I still like you most because you give me your time, Toji.”

Interesting. Because that would mean Naoya had been too busy for his poor sweetheart, hm?

No wonder Mari had been so frustrated. Life must be tough when one was merely the mistress of the Zenin Corporation’s CEO. Not only was Naoya Zenin a mediocre performer in bed, but the homewrecker role also came with no fancy balls, no formal recognition, and—if the affair was well-hidden—not enough public attention either.

Pity.

Toji leaned forward in one fluid motion, resting his elbows on his desk. “Do not misunderstand my intentions, though,” he clarified while lacing his fingers. “I spend time with you because, as your therapist, I am sadly obligated to do so.”

The woman frowned.

“Now, that’s not nice,” she pointed out, allowing her staccato to afflict him with guilt. "That’s not how to talk to your wife, my dear husband.”

And Toji snapped.

“Ex-husband,” he corrected forcefully. His startled client jerked backward in her seat, but that didn’t matter because he had to sternly remind her, “You were the one who filed for divorce, remember?”

Toji liked to think that he was a patient man. Well, he had to be. As he grew up, the pressure that came with the Zenin spotlight taught him to exert self-discipline and emotional regulation, skills that became even more pertinent in his current role.

As a licensed practitioner now, Toji was obligated to treat all clients equally regardless of background. But under no circumstance could he remove all biases when this was the very woman who split up with him, leaving his son Megumi and his stepdaughter Tsumiki under his care. Therefore, she had quite the audacity to keep visiting him at his office and still call him her husband, especially since she was Naoya’s mistress!

How sinister life could be. For years, no one—not even Toji himself—would have seen this coming: how his second wife would leave him, citing ‘irreconcilable differences’ on the divorce papers, only to become his first cousin’s secret girlfriend.

His sudden confrontation, however, must have caught Mari off-guard, for she began twirling at her strands again. “Just because we aren’t married anymore does not mean that I don’t think about you. It’s been so long since we’ve—"

“Three days,” Toji interjected. He had to hold his breath before his annoyance controlled him completely. “The last time you saw me was three days ago. That isn’t much long ago at all.”

The silence that ensued was admittedly awkward until Mari suddenly stood up.

For a moment, Toji had to hide his relief thinking that the appointment would end earlier than anticipated, but he should have known that Mari wouldn’t leave that easily. Instead, she approached him in slow steps, encircling the seated therapist like a vulture.

When she drew near, her hands skimmed up from his brawny arms to his equally well-built shoulder blades, gliding over his lab coat before her warm palms began to knead at his tired muscles.

“I...think about you more than I’d like to admit,” she whispered, an incantation that could set any lustful man’s heart ablaze. Her fingers continued to massage him in slow and circular motions, the gentle pressure over tight knots melting into a calm and comforting rhythm. “I care about you so...don’t be mean to me, alright? The words you sometimes say, they hurt me a lot.”

Her delicate hands crawled up to his chin next, her left thumb tugging at the plush pillow of his lower lip. The most dangerous thing about Mari wasn't how she embodied a young lady’s exuberance with a mature woman’s elegance. Rather, it was her ability to place spells like these. Back when he had less self-respect, Toji might have forgiven her and caved in, her simple but flirtatious touches like trances that could crumble his resolve.

But you still fuck your ex-wife?

Of all moments, your words from weeks ago decided to haunt him now, your revolted expression a clear image in his memory. His heavy-lidded eyes batted quickly as he came to a realization: Why was he doing this?

In the revelation, Toji stopped Mari’s wandering hands from traveling toward his black slacks.

“Mari,” he said very firmly. As he pulled her away from him, his green eyes held her shimmering brown ones. “No.”

“What?” Given the woman’s visible surprise, Toji could also imagine the smoke that fumed from her nose. After all, this was the same man who once would go weak on his knees for her. Mari stepped back, folding her arms defensively. “Why not?”

“You say that my words hurt you, but I would argue that you’ve hurt me far more,” the therapist explained. As he regained composure, he twirled his chair so that he could face his client squarely. “Have you heard? Your own daughter Tsumiki isn’t even returning to Tokyo for her university’s summer break because she is too ashamed to see you.”

“Good!” she shot, surprising the man with her soured temper. “Would not have cared to hear from her either! Tsumiki had always sided with you and your urchin-headed son. But you know what? You’ve changed, Toji. You, and all the other therapists here, too. I don’t know what has been up with you four, but this clinic was far better back when Naoya worked here.”

Toji had a talent for hiding the whirr behind his thoughts, but he could not conceal his surprise this time. Although he wanted to, he never bothered to mention Naoya in his appointments with Mari before. However, it turned out he didn’t have to be the first one to bring up his cousin since Mari did so herself. Had she not reminded him, Toji would’ve forgotten that Naoya was once a sex therapist too, the family pair once working several doors away from each other. 

Since the opportunity already presented itself, Toji took the chance to inveigle his ex-wife. He stood up from his office chair and closed the little gap between him and his glaring client. 

“Let me tell you something,” Toji started, his voice low but steady. “You genuinely think Naoya is all that great of a person? That man has received countless complaints from his former clients about manipulation and derogatory remarks. He’s disrespectful. He’s deceptive. He's a complete con man. Therefore, I would actually argue that our office is much, much better without that elitist and misogynistic asshole.”

Come on, woman. Take the bait. I’m waiting. Three, two...

“Naoya is not that kind of person,” Mari erupted, likely faster and with more fury than she intended.

Well, that was easy. Toji appeared unruffled from the outside, yet he grinned inwardly.

While he paid no mind to how the woman shook her hands from anger and flung a weak fist into his strong chest, he did—however—find more amusement when she added, “Spreading false rumors about your own relative doesn’t make you the bigger person.”

Unfortunately for her, she tended to act and speak before she thought, not realizing that rushing to Naoya Zenin’s side made her suspicious. 

“What? Do my claims about ‘my own relative’ upset you that much?” Toji challenged, quoting her words. He rolled his shoulders back after pushing the woman’s hands from his pectorals. “He’s my baby cousin, so naturally, I have seen his good and bad sides. Just throwing that out there. Unless,” his voice then dropped into a deep bass, “for some reason, you know something I don’t...?”

The inflection in his tone was purposely inquisitive, and he raised an innocent brow with his questions. He could see the emotions that threatened to spill past her walls, from how she furrowed her brows in contemplation to how she pursed her lips in wrath.

But Mari bit her tongue at the very last moment. “No,” she quipped and folded her arms defiantly. “Naoya is not my business.”

Sounded rehearsed, but oh well. The paparazzi photos from their recent Mexico getaway might prove otherwise, though.

“If you say so,” Toji shrugged. 

He was satisfied enough with Mari’s reactions to his cousin’s name, and he liked thinking about how two heartless people had found passion in each other. Just as Toji retreated to his seat, a knock rapped at the door and opened to Geto at the entrance.

“Time is up, boss.”

Even as the appointment ended and was followed by other clients that day, Toji’s mind buzzed into the evening. 

Call him obsessed, but—for himself, for his son, for his stepdaughter, for his colleagues, and for you—he sought revenge. As Toji mulled over his strategy in his home library that night, he could feel himself about to detonate like a time bomb when the apartment buzzer rang unexpectedly.

“Megumi!” Toji’s low timbers boomed, hoping that his son would hear him from his room upstairs. He chased toward the entryway in hurried steps, calling the teenager’s name again because only the boy’s high school friends would be visiting at this hour. Toji swung the door open. “Megumi! Yuuji and Nobara are downst—”

His words vanished when, in the place of two bubbly teenagers, there stood you. 

You raised your gaze from the ground, the overhead lighting leaving a warm glow on your features as you met Toji with reddened and lachrymose eyes.

“Can...we talk?”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: 1) For me, this was another challenging chapter to write, as I balanced between introducing the many layers behind our main therapist and inundating you—my lovely readers—with too much information without adequate context. 2) Originally, I had named Mari something else. I changed it because her name eventually reminded me of a different anime character and I didn’t want the association. Haha. 

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @hinativity @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @piqer @nobody289x @chaoticjojofan​ @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @moodpi @tokyometronetwork​ @downtown-roponggi​ @the-cosmos-network

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk smut #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #naoya x reader #naoya x y/n #naoya x you #choso x reader #choso x y/n #sukuna x reader #geto x reader #toji #naoya #sukuna #geto #choso #anime #anime fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #n/sfw #tokyometronetwork #downtownroppongi #jiminjamms #jamms.sextherapy

[bokutosmochi]

random suna rintaro headcannons

what's it? general allergen warning/s? n/a sugar level? 0.6k regulars? @hanayanetwork​

♧ doesn't like wearing suits because to him, they feel uncomfortable. sure, it feels a bit better after he sees how attractive he looks in one, but still. he'd rather not. likes all black suits though.

♧ owns a ton of those fluffy headbands because he doesn't like it when his hair get in his face too much. he usually wears it when doing chores like cooking, cleaning and such.

♧ the biggest gossip girl. he's quite introverted so he doesn’t get to chit chat with other people as much, but if he's with a friend or with his partner,, boy you can bet sunarin has all the tea.

♧ his bedroom walls are littered with movie posters, but mostly band posters. he has one of those posters from pinterest where there's a photo of a band's album's and all songs on said album are written on it for every single one of his favorite band's album and they all fit his room's vibe, thankfully. he probably wouldn't have put them up if they didn't.

♧ he'd never admit to it and he'll probably deny it until the day he dies, but he also has cute photos of his friends from high school. he keeps them in its own folder and he looks at it every time he feels homesick or sad. it never fails to make him feel a tad bit better.

♧ he still thinks those action shots of atsumu getting his ass beat by osamu are funnier though.

♧ makes tiktok thirst traps often, but they're usually just very lazy, like him tossing his hair around or using the BLVCK filter -- his favorite. nevertheless, it's very effective and everyone in the comments section needs to go to horn-knee jail.

♧ has been teased for the way he dresses, for wearing eyeliner, painting his nails and the such but never lets it get to him. he looks good and he knows it. besides, he knows that the guys leading those comments on his instagram gets no bitches unlike him 😎😎

♧ always walks around with earphones or a headset on. the only time he puts them away is when he's walking with someone.

♧ as a teenager, he had a chest full of posters he planned to put up. he wasn't able to do so with some of them because it didn't match the aesthetic he was going for.

♧ has a signature accessory he wears every time he goes out and it's a simple silver chain. it's not big or eye-catching at all, it's something cheap he bought when he was still a teenager, but it held a special place in his heart all the same. even in games he wears it as it's small and light enough to not be an issue.

♧ as a teenager, he used to cut his hair all by himself at times which led to some.. questionable hairstyles and bullying from the miya twins and honestly, if suna can point out a reason as to why he has a hair lady now, it's probably because of that. in his opinion, when the miya twins tell you that you look dumb, you have hit a whole new low.

♧ related to the last headcannon, he has no idea how to feel when he has the same opinion as those two when it comes to unimportant issues because when it came to important ones, they usually share the same opinions as none of them are bigots :)))

♧ likes softly listening to lana del rey and the humbug album while having breakfast.

♧ thinks he would have been a tattoo artist in another life. hell, if volleyball didn't work out, he'd probably pursue it.

i get: reblog

you get: heart candies

#hanaya network #tahonet #tokyometronetwork #one kona coffee mochi #with a side of peach italian ice #suna #suna x reader #suna x you #suna fluff #suna one shot #suna headcannons #suna imagine #suna rintaro #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintaro headcannons #suna rintaro imagine

[bxd-decisions]

◈ CUDDLES ⸻ ONE PUNCH MAN

◈ SYNOPSIS︙ How they cuddle you :)

◈ PAIRING︙ Garou x reader, Metal Bat x reader

◈ GENRE︙ Fluff, headcanons

◈ WARNINGS︙ NONE!

◈ AUTHORS NOTE︙ Reposting old work :)

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK APPRECIATED

◈ GAROU ◈

This…tsundere of a man. He is the most difficult person to cuddle, EVER. 

Garou likes to act as if he is doing YOU a favor by holding you, when in reality, he is hiding the fact that he also craves some sort of physical contact… nonviolent… physical contact.

He is your personal heater, his body is so damn warm and so comfortable, it's addicting to say the least.

The best place to rest your head is on those tig ol' biddies of his, it's nice to listen to his heartbeat, sometimes it's beating a bit faster than usual because you're around.

Garou will act all annoyed and mutter out loads of curses, but eventually he will decide to swallow his pride and wrap his arms around you, well the… welcome to heaven. 

His embrace is so gentle, yet so protective, he will sometimes let his fingers run through your hair to let you fall asleep. 

Maybe… just maybe you will see the slightest smile on his face, as he enjoys the proximity between the two of you, just don't say anything about it.

10000000000000/10 because I'm biased towards Garou.

◈ METAL BAT ◈

He's a teddy bear!! He absolutely loves to cuddle you. His embrace is always so nice and warm… and soft!

He loves to play with your hair, and he loves it if you nuzzle your face into his chest.

Another thing he loves is when you're the little spoon, his little spoon, he holds you so gently, like he is touching a porcelain doll. 

He loves to have his cat join in with the cuddles.

Badd loves to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he gently plays with your hair, it's his way of showing you how much he loves you.

Expect lots of forehead kisses, and he definitely covers you with a blanket, he likes to take care of you.

10/10. HE IS A TEDDY BEAR!

TAGS: @tokyometronetwork @garous-nipple @frimpfuck

#nora's writing #one punch man #opm #one punch man x reader #opm x reader #one punch man fluff #opm fluff #one punch man headcanons #opm headcanons #garou #garou x reader #garou fluff #garou headcanons #metal bat #metal bat x reader #metal bat fluff #metal bat headcanons #tokyometronetwork

[sweet-seishu]

hate to love you

chapter thirteen

a/n: i'm sorry this is so bad, but this is still a ran x reader so thats more the focus ofc. i'll just let you all leave this date up to imagination since this is short af

《prev | masterlist | next》

"Hey Mikey!" You smiled, getting into the back of that car.

"You look pretty." He told you, a small smile on his face.

"Thanks." You blushed, your mind immediately going to Ran and his compliment. You pushed the thought out of your head before looking back to Mikey. "You look great to."

He sat there in a dark blue button up with black dress pants, his beautiful platinum hair fell in his face as he looked at you, thanking you quietly.

"So where are we going?" You asked.

"Thought we could do dinner?"

"Perfect." You smiled, looking out the window.

Mikey decided to take you to a nice Italian restaurant, making you smile when you saw there was barely any people there, and there was a beautiful table reserved just for you.

"Wow." You smiled. "This is beautiful Mikey."

"Anything for my favorite girl." He smirked, pulling out your chair and allowing you to sit.

"Be careful, you say things like that and I may jump your bones." You winked

"You always say that, yet it's never actually happened." Mikey raised a brow at you.

The waiter came by, pouring you each a glass of wine before leaving you to decide on your order.

"Well I'm not just going to do that Mikey, not unless you actually wanted to."

"You know why I won't? Be with you I mean." Mikey asked. You shook your head, sipping the sweet wine before looking into Mikey's dark eyes.

"I've always wondered, but to be fair, most of it was just for fun. I did always kind of hope it would work one day though." You chuckled.

You smiled as the waiter came back, taking your orders before refilling the wine glasses.

"I'm going to be honest with you, when I say I have genuinely thought about it." Mikey said. "But somethings and someone just keeps me from doing so."

"Wait what?" You asked.

"Sweetheart, you can't honestly tell me that Ran isn't on your mind most of the time, and you can't tell me that you don't have any feelings for him."

"Mikey-"

"And on top of that, I am honestly just to busy for any type of relationship right now, with bonten becoming larger, more deals coming in, I don't want to neglect you, or make you feel unwanted." Mikey said with a small smile. "I do love you, and I cherish you very much, but you know we won't work, and I dont want to hurt you."

You looked down at your hands, biting your lip as you took in his words. Even Mikey could see right through you.

"It's funny, I had every intention on trying to make you fall in love with me tonight." You chuckled. "But I do understand where you're coming from."

"Did you have a plan to make me fall in love with you?" Mikey smiled.

"Uh– not really?" You chuckled. "I was just going to hope for the best, try to flirt with you way more than normal, and hope you'd give in to it."

Mikey laughed quietly, watching you as you chugged back the wine. "You are something else y/n."

"I know." You smiled

Dinner went by too quickly for your liking. Even though you knew you had no chance, you genuinely likes spending time with Mikey. You loved hearing him talk about his life, what led him to create such a organization like Bonten.

You didn't want the night to end, you were having so much fun, but you also knew you had a job to focus on come tomorrow.

That and you really couldn't get Ran out of your head for some stupid reason.

"So, you nervous about the job?" He asked you as he walked you to your penthouse door, your arm looped through his.

"A little." You said honestly. "I've never done a job over seas, I'm just– I'm scared I'm going to fuck it up."

"I wouldn't send you if I didn't think you were capable. I trust you y/n."

"But yet you had to send Ran with me?" You asked, stopping when you got to your door.

"Ran, surprisingly enough, does know what he's doing y/n, I trust him to keep you safe."

"I'm just worried it will be like the last time..."

"It won't, don't worry I had a chat with him already." Mikey reassured you. "Now you should get some rest, you have a flight tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay." You pouted. "I had fun Mikey, thank you for a great night."

He smiled, moving to kiss your cheek softly, causing your face to heat up.

"We should do this again, it was nice." He told you.

"Anytime." You smiled. "You know I'll drop whoever I'm with for you, whenever you need me."

"Keep saying that, and I may just have to keep you to myself." Mikey chuckled.

"It's all part of master plan." You smirked.

"I couldn't do that to Ran, no matter how much he pisses me off."

You heart stuttered at the mention of the older Haitani, your body suddenly feeling like it was on fire.

"Goodnight sweetheart, we'll talk tomorrow."

"Night Mikey." You said softly, watching him walk away before opening the door.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you went to undress. What was with you? Why couldn't you get that idiot out of your head?

taglist: @the-psyco-simp @matsunosan @captainsbaby @themagiacademy @nalyana @q-the-rockaholic @guesswhatiamabookworm @reiners-milkbiddies @sanzuharuchiyoswife @wakasagurl @fallensuguru @gulfkfl @tokyometronetwork @gabytodd @shuujin @toshikamo @hana-patata @bluppen @simplyhaikyuu @-miiss-orihara- @bontensbabygirl

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers smau #tokrev smau #tokyo revengers ran #ran haitani #bonten #ran haitani x reader #haitani ran #ran haitani x you #haitani ran x reader #bonten ran #bonten x reader #mikey x reader #manjiro sano x reader #bonten mikey #tokyometronetwork #series: hate to love you

[musings-and-moans]

i can't help it i want you

submission for: @cirigiri 's The DILF List Collab (DILF #17 — iwaizumi hajime — the friend’s husband) (basically parts 1 and 2 were to be one post but I divided them into two and thus submitting both ^_^), late Father's Day post, DILF Appreciation Day, AND for iwaizumi's birthday on the 10th of june {and yes, part 2 is here <3 check out part 1 here and part 3 will be posted during kinktober :') }

features: friend's husband!dilf!hajime iwaizumi x mrs. oikawa!f!reader (afab!reader, uses she/her pronouns) (both of them are separated) | song: you right - doja cat ft. the weeknd | wc: 3500 | part 1 | part 3

summary: After Hajime Iwaizumi and you separated from your respective partners because of them having an affair with each other, you two had gotten closer and were helping each other recover. Then, one night caused the both of you to almost kiss, and you two realized that you wanted each other instead. As Hajime comes to your apartment with the intention of talking the feelings out of you, your bodies, however, wanted to communicate in a different way.

beta readers: @mrskenmakozume (ilysm &lt;333) | networks: @tokyometronetwork @hanayanetwork

content warnings: hq timeskip spoilers (not much 'cause everything's mentioned in part 1, but surely iwa's aged up), mentions of consumption of alcohol, dubcon ('cause it's drunk sex), both iwa and reader have been separated from their partners but not divorced yet, so technically, infidelity?, use of sex toy (vibrator), dry humping, pussyjob, cowgirl, cervix fucking (if you squint), oral sex(m! and f! receiving, but not 69), facefucking, deepthroating, praise kink (maybe?), edging, orgasm denial, mating press, doggystyle, squirting, i love you is said during sex, creampie, iwa being a masseuse as the end &lt;;33 please lmk if i've missed any tags

a/n: it took me almost a couple whole nights but i finally wrote it. thank you so so much for your support for part 1 and i hope you're excited to read this part &lt;;33 also, likes, reblogs and comments, especially reblogs are appreciated <3

9th June, 2021. 11:30pm

You realized that Hajime’s birthday was coming soon, and no sooner did you think about him than you were immediately reminded of the moment you two had shared when you two almost kissed each other, causing your cheeks to fluster. You’d wanted him for so long but never got to act on the feelings, but that day, when your lips were about to meet, you realized that you haven’t had sex in so long. Your marriage with Oikawa had fallen apart at its seams, and while you had been thinking of getting back to him for your daughter’s sake, that moment with Hajime made you realize that you’d rather have the athletic trainer more than the setter.

Around the same time, in another corner of Tokyo, Hajime couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning with guilt gripping him because he was also thinking about the other night where you two were about to kiss each other. He had thought of the college days for a moment, especially when he first met you and winked at you when he noticed you staring at his shorts, and his heart started thumping as he thought of you. He sat and thought to himself of the time he told you that he was in love with your best friend, Serena Mendoza. It was now that he understood the way your face twitched, the way your expressions suddenly changed from a cheerful smile to that of a frown.

It was now that he understood why he was the one who called you more often, whereas the number of calls from your end dwindled. It wasn’t because you were not considering him a friend, it was because he was more than a friend to you, and because you couldn’t have him, you chose to keep your guard up. He thus realized that you were wanting him all along, and it was during this time that he realized that he had to be with you. So he ran to his Mustang, started the car, and drove to your apartment.

Having then downed a few glasses of wine, and craving to be intimate with him, you put your lacy lingerie under Hajime’s volleyball jersey that was oversized for you, but you loved it anyway. As you were admiring yourself in the mirror with the jersey, your mind then drifted to the time you tried on his jersey and told him that you were keeping it, and he scoffs and replies, “you can keep it, I have extras anyway,” much to your delight. What you didn’t know, however, was that he was also muttering under his breath how you were looking even more beautiful than Serena with his jersey on. As you then admired yourself in the bedroom mirror, you then hopped onto the bed, opened your bedside drawer to find your vibrator, turned it on, placed it over your clit, and felt the vibrations run through you. Initially you moved the tip of the toy slowly up your entrance before you let it enter you, then you increased the speed. 

Upon reaching your apartment, he immediately took half a dozen beer bottles from the cooler in the trunk, opened two of them, and chugged them immediately. He was unaware as to why he was doing this, but something told him that he was scared of meeting you sober. At the same time, it had been a couple of minutes where you were fondling yourself, bursting out in a series of moans when you heard a knock at your door. As you awoke for a brief moment and wondered what was happening, you kept the vibrator on your bedside table. You ran to the door, opening it with your eyes wide and shocked at who was there. The former ace, who was wearing a teal t-shirt and grey sweatpants, mumbled in a slurred voice, picking you up as he wrapped your legs around his waist. He then took your cheeks to bring you closer and began kissing you.

10th June 2021. Midnight

As you two cupped each other's cheeks, and raked nails through each other's hair, you were acquainting yourself with the taste of each other’s lips, having been touch-starved for too long. While according to you, his lips felt warm and caramelly, just like the beer he had, to him, your lips were cool and sweet like Merlot. You walked backwards as he walked forward; you were lost in each other, as he hurriedly locked the door behind you with one hand without wasting a moment. Both of you then dashed toward the living room and he placed you gently on the couch before coming on top of you, kissing hard. You both sucked on each other's bottom lip, swirling your tongue around his and vice versa, to gain control until he stopped you, purred out your name, and nuzzled into your chest.

Sensing that he's been feeling dizzy, you got off the couch, picked Hajime by his arm and took him to your bed to let him rest. As you were turning away, he quickly grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, sliding his hand under your shirt and groping you. You wanted to swat his hand away, but as his hand cupped one of your clothed mounds, fondling it while fiddling with the lacy material of the brassiere, you not only liked the fact that his slightest touch caressed your skin, but were craving for more. So you silently unhooked your bra, took off the straps, and pulled the bra from under your shirt, discarding it; this caused you to feel his callous fingers playing with your nipples. You bit back your moans and turned them into whimpers as you climbed atop him, aligning your clothed cunt with his bulge and grinding along it. 

You noticed the silent whimpers that came out of his mouth as he moaned “oh baby” in the air, your eyes rolling back in response. How often had you been thinking of him, you thought to yourself, it’d probably been a while since thoughts of him had died down, but you had especially been thinking of him ever since the separation. Regardless of the chaos surrounding you, it was at this very moment that it became apparent to you: nothing mattered anymore but Hajime Iwaizumi. You wanted him in every way possible, and especially, inside you. 

As you kept on grinding, you felt your wetness pool inside your panties, as both of your moans were echoing in the room. So, you put his hands away and took off your panties, with only the oversized shirt still on you, and you quickly peeled his track pants and boxers off him, his cock springing free on his abdomen hard. Then you climbed on top of him and grinded your cunt against his length, with your wetness serving as lube, causing him to open his eyes and look at you lustfully. He then whispered softly, enough for you to hear, “For how long have you been wanting me, (y/n)?” You leaned forward with your stomachs touching each other and muttered, “Ever since I first met you, Hajime. I want you more. I don’t want him. I want you, I always did. I can’t help it.”

As he rasped into your ear, “Oh baby-” he picked you up from your hips, aligned his cock with your entrance and slammed into you. Your eyes rolled back as you finally had him in you, moaning his name out as you grind against him. He hugged you, bringing you forward, and you two enveloped in another steamy, sloppy kiss. He then started thrusting his cock into you, causing you to release yourself from the kiss and lose all sense of inhibition as he smacked your ass, encouraging you to bounce on his length hard. Both your cries echo in the room as the sound of your skin slapped alongside his girthy cock, eventually bottoming out and reaching your cervix, making your sensitive cunt twitch as you feel chills rushing down your spine.

As he hugged you again and sucked on your nipples while thrusting into you, you started seeing stars. You thought of nothing else except for the number of times you wanted him to be rough to you, because you wanted to make up for the lost time between the both of you. Suddenly, one of his thrusts jolted you so hard that you were overstimulating. He brought your ear closer to you as he whispered, “cum for me, precious,” causing the coil in you to snap. Your essence started to drool down his length, and you’re immensely cockdrunk. As you slowed your pace and eventually stopped bouncing on him, you peeled yourself off of him, and then he spoke to you in a dominant tone: “On your knees, baby.” A switch turned on in your brain as you’re nodding and was about to get out of the bed when he lifted you up by your legs and carried you till he placed you on your knees. 

You were now able to see his cock in its full glory. It was really girthy with the prominent vein on display and you’d imagined it to fill you up so well that you were already feeling empty inside. The tip looked pretty too, and as your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, touching nothing else, your tongue started swirling around slowly, getting a taste of his pre-cum. “Baby,” you cried out to him as he tilted his head in your direction and his gaze fixated on you. While maintaining eye contact, your mouth slid all the way down to the base of his dick. You sucked it hard, enough for him to feel like you’re pulling the cum out of him.

Hajime opened his mouth wide and his eyes rolled back as he closed his eyelids, giddy with pleasure. Pushing against his firm length, you began moving your lips up and down, back and forth. “Ngh, this feels so good," he whimpered, “but I’m about to make it better.” With a confused look on your face, he brought his hand and combed his fingers through your hair before fisting your locks and roughly bucking his hips into your mouth, ripping a loud moan from you with your gaze locked onto his. Hajime was so in awe of how you were taking him in his mouth, muttering, “oh baby, you take me in so good, I want you to be my good cocksleeve, only mine.”

His lips gaped open, his chest heaving, and his eyelids rolled back as he closed his eyes, his face flushed with delight. You continued to bob your head up and down as he pushed the tip of his cock first into your mouth, urging you to open your mouth wide, then he pushed it all the way to the back of your throat. Then, he slipped in further, with his head tilting back and him groaning as his length bottomed out inside your throat. He slowly pulled almost the way out and swiftly buried the entirety of his dick back down your throat over and over again. His lips tugged between his teeth and tilted his head backward for a split second, only to meet your lustful gaze again. He was in awe of how well you were deepthroating him… you really wanted this, and it was visible.

As he began increasing his tempo, his cock sliding in and out of your throat, you left out a couple of wanton moans that turned pornographic when one of your hands immediately snaked down to your clit, two of its fingers harshly rubbing them in time with his thrusts. You continued to bob your head in time with his brutal pace, sounds of gagging and blubbering mixing in with your moans, and your own eyes fluttered shut.  He breathed, “(Y/N),” writhing into your mouth, his hands gripping your hair hard to keep your head to stay steady. He also noticed your other hand caressing his balls. He groaned, “baby, don’t cum right now, because as much as you’re taking me so well, I want you to cum on my cock.” As you nodded with a moaning response, he felt a buzz in his pockets. Hajime took one of his hands off your hair and fished his phone from his pocket, before seeing Mattsun’s contact name and number on the screen, calling him. With a sly smile, he said, “I’m going to be talking over the phone now, so don’t make any noise, or else,” causing you to hurriedly nod at him with a soft moan. 

“Hi Mattsun, tell me,” Hajime responded, to which Mattsun and Makki shouted, enough for you to hear through the phone, “Happy birthday Iwaizumi!” He responded with a chuckle and thanked the both of them while he kept on fucking your face, bobbing your head up and down like he was fucking your cunt. Suddenly, in the midst of his conversation, your eyes rolled back and your clit twitched as the coil that ended up building inside you yet again snapped and you let out a soft pornographic moan. He looked down at you, and told both of his childhood friends, “Mattsun, Makki, I’ve got to hang up. Someone has to be taught a lesson.” Both of you were met with “ooohs” and “aaaahs” as he hung up the phone and threw it on to the bed, before he carried you by your waist and placed you on all fours in front of the mirror that was next to the window. You felt a sharp sting on your derriere as his palm met the skin with a couple of smacks.  Groaning, “Why are you being so disobedient, huh?” he gripped your ass tight with his hands, bringing your overstimulated pussy closer to his mouth, and licked a single wet stripe from bottom to top before sucking on to your folds, with his tongue later thrusting into your core.

“Daddy, please let me cum, please, I’ll be a good girl, just please–” you couldn’t speak anymore as your hand fisted the sheets and the sounds of your moans kept on echoing across the room, with him slurping you and his hand reaching out for your clit, harshly rubbing it with two of his fingers. He stopped devouring you, his face wet with your arousal covering his nose, mouth and chin, and curtly instructed you, “look at yourself in the mirror while I keep eating you out. Also, get the vibrator for me.” As he loosened his grip on you while going back to eating you out, you laid flat on the bed and reached out for the vibrator. As you got the toy in your fingertips, he placed you in such a way that your chest was pressed against the mattress and your ass was up in the air, while still eating you out and your body facing the mirror in front of you. At this point, you couldn’t take it anymore, and your eyes rolled back as you tried clenching your thighs, but he kept them far apart. He’d left you at his mercy as it is by refusing to let you cum, but by accidentally cumming for the second time, he was not letting you go until essentially, your essence spurted out of you.

“I’m going to enter inside you now, baby. Don’t lose eye contact with me or I’ll stop. I’m gonna celebrate my birthday by going rough with you, okay? Happy birthday to me,” he rasped as he pounded himself into you with an animalistic pace, harshly grabbing your hips. The way the bed creaked with both of your movements was a testament to how well he was rocking your body. 

As he kept thrusting into you, he grabbed the vibrator from the bed with one hand with the other still on your ass and turned it on, placing its tip on your clit. The only thoughts in your mind were how Hajime's dick filled you up completely and stretched the walls of your pussy well, along with the vibrations from the toy, how all of it was driving you into a frenzy. Your core kept squelching and your broken moans were reverberating in his ears as if he was in a lustful daze. “Ha-Ha-Happy birthday baby,” you stuttered in between your moans while trying to maintain eye contact with him through the mirror, “it feels so good, please don’t stop.”

While his one hand was using the vibrator on you, his other hand left your hip to grip your head and pull your body to him, causing you to feel him even deeper, his balls hitting your folds as he went faster. Your sensitive spots were marked by his lips as they brushed against your neck. The coil in you built up again to a point where you couldn’t take it anymore, your voice becoming hoarse as you’d seemed to have moaned aloud a lot for the night. Sensing as you were about to lose control of your orgasm, he then whispered into your ear, “it’s okay, baby. I’ve got you, cum for me.” With one final thrust as the tip of his cock hit your cervix, you eventually started squirting, a clear fluid coming out of you, your body trembling and shuddering from the intensity of the sex. He grabbed hold of you and softly whispered, “You did so well for me, baby. But, we’re not done yet.”

He then placed you back on the mattress, face up, with your fucked-out face on display, having cummed twice and squirted once, and seemed to be unable to take anymore. However, it was all far from over, as he instructed you to fold your legs and he pushed your thighs closer to your chest with his hands, asking you to hold your legs by your knees, leaving your cunt vulnerable and open. He aligned the tip of his cock with your entrance and, intertwining both his fingers with yours, rammed his whole length into you in one go, bottoming himself out and reaching your g-spot, causing you to let out a shrill moan as he smiles at you, while eventually increasing his pace and strength as he thrust into you. He leaned forward as he kept on rutting into you, stuffing his cock deeper into your now very sensitive cunt, and his lips brushed against yours, enveloping in a sloppy kiss with your tongues swirling around each other. He released himself from the kiss, totally dazed and pussydrunk, and whispered into your ear, “I love you, baby.” 

For a moment, you sobered up, as you realized that in addition to being cockdrunk, you finally heard what you’ve been needing to hear from him. You then moaned out your response, “Haji, I–I love you too, I always have,” as he kept on rutting into you, now with his eyes open, realizing that you two just confessed your feelings while being in a lustful daze. You two kept going at it as he whispered into your ear, “Baby, don’t you think this is a good chance for our kids to have another sibling? Wouldn’t that be nice?” You couldn’t respond because all you kept doing was moaning, but the thought of having his baby suddenly turned you on more, so you whimpered and responded, “Yes, daddy, please fill me up. Want you to fill me up,” causing him to rut into you harder, and he whispered again, “I’m gonna cum inside you, baby, and make you a mom again.” This caused you to nod and moan out his name until a couple of sloppy thrusts later, you let out one sharp scream. With one final thrust, the inner walls of your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him dry as he unloaded all his seed into you, still thrusting slowly to make sure all of it stayed inside you.

10th June 2021. 2:30am

He pulled out and noticed the product of your love oozing out of your pretty little cunt, and smiled. Once he released your thighs, he massaged them with his fingers, pressing every finger onto the pressure points, causing you to feel great relief. Afterwards, he crawled to the other side of the bed and cupped your cheek with one hand, bringing your face closer and kissing you on your lips. As he pulled out of the kiss, he softly spoke, “I meant every word of what I told you, baby. I love you.” You caressed his cheek and softly replied, “so did I Hajime. I–” you were interrupted by a ping on your phone. As you reached out for it on your bedside table, both your eyes widened in shock as you see the message flashed on the phone screen and your mouth gaped wide at the sender’s name:

Tooru Oikawa: We need to talk. About you and Iwa-chan. We know.

© Shyna 2022 - reposting on any other platform is not allowed. likes, comments, and especially reblogs are appreciated. (taglist in next rb)

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