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gabzlovesu-archived · 3 months ago

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royal knight!caleb & princess!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, ageless, and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is written / portrayed as a curvy, thick black woman but you do not have to imagine it that way ! anyone and everyone is welcome to read <3. historical / medieval au so there will be use of language & rhetoric relative to that era ( i.e., aye = yes or indeed . . . . i did my best doing research ). caleb is a high ranking knight in the kingdom they live in and is referred to as 'sir' because of his status. reader is a princess of royal status. mentions / descriptions of blood and injuries, and contains violence sprinkled with a little bit of gore (???). depictions of murder / character death. a liiittleeee bit of religious imagery & references, not sure but adding it just in case. hints at caleb having psychological issues and / or mental instability. kind of yandere(ish) behavior if you squint; caleb is obsessed with & in love with the reader. he is also a wee bit condescending ( not to reader ). instances of caressing ( groping? ) and slow, sweet kisses. veryyy subtle manipulation (?) via intentional omission of the truth. sorry if im exaggerating with these tags lol. directly based off this post i saw a few weeks ago. i tried my best to proofread at 1am pls excuse any errors. let me know if i missed anything!

word count ━━ ! 3.9k

notes ━━ ! man…..🚬🚬🚬 i can’t believe i wrote this lmaaaoooooooooo like what. where did this come from even.....anyway hi everyone i’m back with another (short-ish) fic <3 my apologies it's been another two months since my last published work, you know what it is: it takes longer for me to put things out and i wanna make sure i put my best foot forward every time >< but whoop whoop here's to my second fic of the year! as u can see i have gotten into lads during this past month and some change....... and i swear, i really had no intention of writing for any of the guys any time soon, let alone the newest one..... i took a pause from working on my longer projects to write this LMFAOOOO. i honestly thought that if i really did have a burning desire to write about them, my first lads fic would have been about sylus cause he.....anyway i won't go on a tangent about him, but i sincerely hope u guys enjoy this one!!!!!! obviously this is my first time writing for any lads character so pls be kind to me. i also want to apologize if this characterization of caleb is weird or ooc, i haven't unlocked him yet but i have seen a lot of content of his story in relation to the mc, his lore, his voicelines, etc so i hope i did him justice!! reblogs + commentary are HEAVILY appreciated ♡♡♡.

THE SKY REMAINED DARK, BUT a deep navy hue began to seep into the heavens, soon giving way to the dawn; the early hours of the morning was nigh. The castle was silent— obviously, but still eerily so despite the hour. There was a draft that seeped through the miscellaneous cracks of the stone, the shutters, and the windows of the castle that had not been properly shut, and the brisk breeze that flowed inside caressed the walls with a whisper— quiet but forceful enough to sway the small flames of the candles. The unsteady flickering of the flames grazed and dimly illuminated the walls behind them. Upon its surface were fresh stains, which would permanently seep into the stone if not cleaned in time. The stains were red.

It was blood.

In the many corridors of the castle was a figure, trudging through the halls like a corpse that had risen from its resting place, exhaustion weighing down his every step down to the marrow of his bones. He was injured— not gravely enough to make him lose consciousness but enough to reopen the wounds he so haphazardly patched himself before returning to the kingdom.

His chambers in the keep, along with all the other higher-ranked Knights, was on the other side of the castle grounds. He should have made a left the moment the portcullis closed behind his heels so he could at least get patched up again, get some water, and something else for the pain. Instead, the soldier walked straight ahead, onward to the main structure of the castle, down the stretches of its veins, up the stairs– a path he had memorized after spending many a moon traversing it, sometimes without your knowledge.

But he needed to see you, and he was unsure if he would be able to wait until the sun’s ascension in just a few hours time to do so.

The knight was tired, and that slowed him down, but eventually he made it to your private quarters. He made sure to quiet his labored breathing and footsteps as much as he could; the king would have his head before he even made it to your chambers if he were to be discovered.

You laid underneath a thick blanket, the warmth of the fur against your clothed skin protecting you against the brisk cold. As comfortable as you were, however, tonight you had trouble staying asleep. It would greet you kindly, only to slip away from your embrace if you held it too tightly. Your eyelids were half-open, finally on the verge of drifting close again, when an abrupt but muffled thumping noise resounded on the wood of your door.

The sound caused your eyes to snap open with alertness, any waves of sleep that were about to wash over you retreated at the sound. You laid still, absently wondering if you were hearing things, but the noise reverberated in the air again, then three times— it was soft, as if the source of the sound was being careful not to be too loud.

As the sleepiness of the late hours continued to melt away, you began to remember what day it was, and your pulse quickened as a result.

He should have returned today, you thought. But could it be? It cannot possibly…

And yet, that possibility is what tugged your body forward to sit up and straight, and slide your legs out from underneath the layers of blankets. That possibility is what led you to slide your bare feet into your slippers, and move to swing the long, woolen robe on top of your nightgown. That possibility is what pulled you to the thick door of your chambers, and opened it by an inch to peek through the cracks.

The relief and subdued elation you felt when you saw the familiar features of Sir Caleb’s visage on the other side washed over you.

But that feeling faded as quickly as it came when you noticed the state Sir Caleb was in. While it wasn’t abnormal for him to have a deep scratch or a bruise somewhere, he looked . . . worse, somehow. And whatever it was seemed to reach deeper than just his physical injuries.

Without exchanging any words or outwardly questioning him, you carefully— for he winced at nearly every graze of your fingers on certain areas— led him into your room, allowing him to use your body as a crutch. Caleb let out strained puffs of air, both in relief that he didn’t have to carry the weight of his own body alone anymore, and with increasingly dwindling self-restraint.

He had hardly stepped foot in your bedchambers before; only about four steps past the threshold of the doorway at most, out of fear that his mere presence when he visited in your absence would become a noticeable, tangible thing. Like you’d be able to sense if he ventured too far in for too long, too many times.

Everything smelled like you. Your unique flowery scent was almost palpable with how it clung to every surface of your living space, even the air itself. The contrast between the fleshy softness of your body pressed against the cold, angular ridges of his armor was enough to make his breath catch in his throat and his pulse to miss a beat.

“M…milady.” Caleb croaked, his throat significantly lacking moisture to the point it almost ached to speak. At this point, the remaining strength in the knight’s body had become completely nonexistent; the sword he didn’t even have the strength to place back in its scabbard tumbled from his loosening grip onto the ground, the sound sharp and uncomfortably punctating.

“Sir Caleb”, you gasped, your grip tightening on whatever area of his stocky, towering figure you could reach. Both the suddenness of the sound of metal colliding with stone and your delayed realization of how serious his injuries were pulled your nerves all the more taut, the worried furrow in your brow growing more prominent.

Caleb’s legs gave out next, all while his heavier form still partially hung from your sleep laden frame. His arm slipped from around your shoulder as he descended to his knees, the movement clumsy enough to slightly throw you off your balance. The room was still dark enough that you did not readily see nor notice the blood that now permeated the folds of your nightdress.

The honorable knight— who did not quite look so on his knees like this— absentmindedly grasped at your calves, pulling another surprised noise from the back of your throat. It was as if making physical contact with you would steady his mind that swirled endlessly with fragmented thoughts, stained with the dark horrors that crawled from the depths of his subconscious, and keep him tethered to the plane of consciousness. The blood loss would soon catch up to him.

Silence descended upon your room, save for Caleb’s ragged breathing and your quiet, frayed inhales. He still held onto your lower legs like it was his lifeline, the mesh underside of his metal gauntlets sending a subtle shiver with each miniscule movement he made, but you did your best to silence any hitch in your breath or twitch in your muscles. Worry still festered underneath your skin, so much so that you were afraid if you moved, or even spoke, that Caleb might fall apart at your feet, considering his current state.

“Milady…” Caleb tried again, his voice still rough but a muted veneration was present underneath his words, as if your title was the beginning of a prayer. It was a thought that spurred another shudder to crawl across your flesh. “Milady, I have returned. The war with the kingdom to the east—Havencroft— is over now.”

The knight turned his head slightly so that his cheek was resting on the fat of your thigh, your nightdress being the only barrier between his skin and yours. Another stain of crimson leapt from the side of his face that rested on your leg to your clothes, but you could not see it from this angle. Caleb almost resembled a wounded animal, marking the territory that was once his after enduring an attack– not much for your sake, but purely for his own, as a reminder of sorts.

Even through the linen, you could feel the uneven puffs of warm air from his mouth fan across that small area on your thigh. Like a magnet attracted to a metal of the opposite affinity— a force yet to be explained or explored— your palm gravitated towards the knight’s armored shoulder. Whether it was an action of acknowledgement and commendation, to silently urge him off his knees, or as a means to steel yourself was unclear even to you.

“The enemies… have been defeated.” Each syllable felt delayed, each word tumbled from Caleb’s lips like a wispy trail of smoke from burning incense, and the casual hold you had on his steel shoulder imperceptibly tightened when you felt his gloved hands trail up the back of your legs. His movements were slow—almost reluctant and experimental— but deeply rooted in reverence, as if this was the first and last time he would be able to touch you so boldly.

The knight below knew better. He was well aware that his actions more than just bordered on bold, they fully reveled in it– embraced it, even. But he was having a significant amount of trouble caring enough to stop himself. It was always a difficult task reasoning with the thing that resided in the folds of his unconscious— especially and specifically when it came to you.

Caleb awaited you to halt the soft caress of his palms, either verbally or by action, but neither came. You were rendered silent, breath slightly restrained as you stared down at him from on high, your palm still resting upon his armor. A part of you was swayed by the currents of curiosity to see what he’d do next, just to see what might happen you allowed this moment to persist a bit longer.

And the other part…might have enjoyed this. It might have enjoyed the sight, the sound, the sensation of his iron skin, the subtle yet unknown metallic aroma that washed over your senses, mixed with his signature musk.

So he resumed, both his movements and his speech, which were languid and slowed. “Those that wished… to do harm to the kingdom, to you…They have been slain.”

The way his head shifted against your leg was like a cat nuzzling itself against its human companion. The weight of his body pressed upon you like this was even a bit endearing, and it began to melt your heart. Caleb’s hands glided from the backs of your knees down to the base of your ankles, only to carefully ascend back up the valleys and shores of your legs. In his ascent the hem of your dress got caught in between the gaps of his fingers, causing it to steadily rise like a curtain and expose the bare, supple brown skin hiding beneath it.

His touch was so gentle, like dragging the sharpened edge of a knife against one’s skin in fear of accidentally cutting it. As someone who has done so much damage and has scarcely been shown this kind of gentleness, it was a bit jarring to see himself embody it so naturally. “...The lot of them. I made sure of it.”, he continued, the knight’s noble heart raced so frantically about his chest, he thought it might reverberate and echo against his chest plate if it were to beat any more intensely.

Even with the sizable gauntlets weighing down his hands, Caleb was still able to tell just how delicate and cushiony your flesh was, and he released a barely-there, shaky exhale of his own when his fingers lightly clenched around it. If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought he was on the brink of death and was kneeling before the gates of heaven.

It was nearly impossible for you to distinguish the sensation of the carmine substance being smeared against your bare skin with each inch Caleb caressed, because your nerves had put all its effort into focusing on his breath fanning across your legs and the cold surface of his armor. At some point, the hand laying on his shoulder levitated to rest atop his head instead, the area unadorned without his helmet; a shiver rolled down the knight’s spine at the gesture. Sweat dampened the rich, umber strands of his hair, and the heat radiating from the crown of his head rivaled the one building underneath your face and chest.

“The army of the east kingdom, boasting numbers of over eight-thousand men, have all…. fallen. All of their strongest knights…”

Caleb’s words sounded a bit muffled as his mouth was slightly pressed against your leg, his pillowy lips continued to trail across the expanse of increasingly exposed limbs, “...their battalions, their village militia units…”

By this point, Caleb’s strong sense of rationale, his logical consciousness that usually never steered him wrong had finally caved in on itself. The void that it left in its absence would now be filled and controlled by the iniquitous thoughts that plagued him day in and day out. Such immoral, perhaps unhealthy, thoughts that always had you at the front and center of it all.

“...Even the gentry. Witnessing them …attempting to wield a polearm was almost pathetic. I would have pitied them, but one way or another, they would have attempted to harm you and our kingdom in some way, at some point…”

There was a brief pause, the surface of his parted lips and that of his artificial armor took turns savoring the feel and smell of you, even being so brash as to place tender almost-kisses across your thigh. You gasped silently at that, and the reflexive clench of your fingers in the tufts of his hair brought forth something of a purr that vibrated in the back of his throat. Embedded within that imperceptible purr in his deep voice lurked something more dangerous you did not notice— sharp, like having a dagger pressed against one’s jugular.

“And I cannot allow that.”

Caleb continued to murmur about his achievements of war into your chestnut-tinted skin as if he were talking directly into it and not you— as if it were actively listening. And with the way your nerves sparked and crackled with each syllable he pronounced, you could easily become convinced that it was.

Aye, he could not even pretend to spare an ounce of compassion for Havencroft’s gentrymen, or their local militia, their skilled battalions and armies, nor their most honorable knights. Not after their plans and intentions were discussed amongst the king’s council just months prior, which served as the reason why he and the rest of the kingdom’s army were dispatched there in the first place.

Swine, the lot of them.

The same could be said for his own king’s council members— your father’s most trusted political companions and advisors— that had the gall to speak ill of and scheme against the king and his realm.

The balls to speak ill of you when they believed there were no listening ears around; about how your future ascent to the throne would be this kingdom’s downfall, about how His and Her Majesty should have tried for more children in hopes of a young lad.

He could only thank the gods that he returned from his knightly travels when he did, for the dark-haired soldier knew within seconds of overhearing such idiotic arrogance what his next course of action should be.

Like some kind of cunning animal whose only purpose was to hunt and kill, Sir Caleb watched and waited for the opportune moment to present itself before closing in to strike. And that moment arrived when he realized the two men were making their way to the western-most side of the main castle, where the kitchen and laundry rooms were located. He sneered at how clever they thought they were being, choosing that specific place because they were aware most of the help and servants had retired for the evening.

Without a moment’s hesitation, when he had heard enough drivel, he attacked, administering two swift but fatal slashes to their vital points— one for each man. The pain from moving like that when his injuries had been previously reopened nearly caused his legs to buckle, but he remained steady and quick. This had to be quick, for it would be troublesome if they made noise or if he was too sloppy with his timing and execution. Blood splattered on the nearby walls from the sheer force of his swing, the blade cutting through the councilmen like a cleaver cutting through a slab of tender meat. He made a note to himself to come back and clean any remnants that remained later.

The councilmen fell to their knees, staring and cowering from Sir Caleb in confusion, shock, and unadulterated fear at the realization that their lives might end that very night, and that someone might have heard them.

Surely they blathered on in hushed voices, demanding to know the meaning behind his actions, begging for the knight to spare their lives, frantically questioning him if he had heard them say anything particularly controversial. But Caleb paid no mind and did not bother responding. All he did was stare at them, his eyes as empty as a weathered piece of parchment with no ink on it, his salmon-colored lips resting in a straight line that spoke nothing of his true thoughts.

Caleb’s gaze alone deeply unsettled them, for they had never seen him look like that before.

On his honor as a knight, Caleb would die before he let any harm— relative or distant, real or perceived, indirect or direct— fall upon you if it was in his power to prevent it. Because not only did he pledge his allegiance to the ruler of this land, but to you as well. And in performing his obligatory duties as a knight— guarding you from near and far, being graced with your kindness, your wit, your smile—it was inevitable that he would fall in love with you at some point along the way.

And wasn’t it a good thing, a true virtuous thing, a normal thing to do what you can for the one they loved? To keep them safe?

And so, with that resolve embedded in his heart, the knight Sir Caleb would do what he could, and did what he must when the steel of his blade at last collided with the mens’ uvula. The last thing those so-called loyal councilmen saw was his void eyes, and the slightest upturn in the corner of his lip.

But you need not worry or be privy to the gritty details. All you needed to know was that he fulfilled his duty in protecting you, in protecting this kingdom you loved dearly and would govern someday. He would see through this role until the day he could no longer.

Aye, you did not need to know that the blood that had now seeped into the fabric of your pretty lilac nightgown and smudged on his face was fresh; you did not need to know that in some other part of this very castle, two people that had been around since your youth had drawn their last breath, never to be seen again; you did not need to know that the faintest hint of guilt and regret for his actions was snuffed out the moment his eyes met your visage. You did not even need to know of the tender affection that he harbored for you– at least, not yet. A separate time for that should arrive soon, he would pray on it.

And now, all Caleb needed was to hear it from you. That you were proud of him.

“I hope my efforts in battle were satisfactory to you, milady. That my efforts …in keeping your safety and interests of the monarchy at heart pleases you.”

The knight's lips continued to drag across your skin in a lackadaisical manner, its touch at some point turning into undeniable kisses— pecks so light and fleeting you could have imagined it.

But you weren’t. You knew it to be so because the phantom sensation that was left behind after each one was as real as the ground you stood upon.

You were indeed proud of the knight before you, on his knees revering you with his mouth like you were some kind of holy thing that might disappear into thin air. For all of his years here, you have seen the scrapes, the faded scars on his ungloved hands, a limp in his gait or a straggle in his step, and you felt sympathy for him. You sympathized with him for having to sustain a number of different injuries in the name of your kingdom and its values. But seeing him hurt also inspired a great deal of gratitude within you, and you always made sure to take time at night before you fell asleep to thank the Lord above for uniting your paths– even though the two of you were on slightly different social standings. You secretly hoped that one day, that fact might change.

This is why you had no problem in saying that, “From what you have told me, Sir Caleb, your endeavors in battle are indeed quite….satisfactory to me,” Your words were momentarily interrupted with a sound that sounded suspiciously close to a pleasurable sigh, your fingers absently combing through his hair as you continued to speak, “So I must thank you, for doing your duty so well, and apologize that you were so badly wounded in the name of this kingdom. I truly appreciate all that you do.”

The words of sincere gratitude that spilled from your plush lips only excited the muscle beating wildly in Caleb’s chest, and they were enough to spur his heavy hands to glide higher underneath your gown, moving to the backs of your thighs once again. As his lips persevered in its affectionate assault of your legs, his palms mindlessly cupped the full roundness of your buttocks and gave it a slight squeeze, effectively losing himself in the suppleness of your curved body.

His name, without the proper prefix, was about to fall from your tongue, but you swallowed it down in exchange for something else. “This kingdom is— I am quite fortunate to have someone so capable…so strong and valiant at our disposal. Thank you, Sir Caleb, you have done well.”

And that was all it took for a quiet groan to be pulled from Caleb’s throat. A part of him hoped you didn’t hear it, he was already behaving so shamelessly.

But another part hoped that you did, so maybe then you’d realize without him having to potentially embarrass himself how much he cared for you, craved you, and impacted him so deeply.

“Thank you, milady. You are too gracious to me. I am unworthy of your praises, but will humbly accept them.” One palm resumed its directionless roaming to map out your lower body while the other remained on buttocks, interrupting his own reply by offering your skin doting, airy kisses in between. His reddish violet eyes were somewhat hooded when his gaze flickered up to look at you once more.

“I will continue to do my utmost…to serve you and your kingdom.... to the best of my ability.”

( # ) @smiley-babe @ramonathinks @dollwrites @valentineluvu @rinsko . my apologies if u did not want to be tagged. let me know if you want to be tagged in my future works!

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gabzlovesu-archived · 2 years ago

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my special magical spell

.∧＿∧ ( ･ω･｡)つ━☆・*。 ⊂　ノ　　　・゜+. しーＪ　　　°。+ * lov and hugs * +

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gabzlovesu-archived · 2 years ago

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please this is so wholesome !

⋆｡°✩ CONTENT WARNINGS | light swearing, tooth rotting fluff, gender neutral! reader

main masterlist | tip jar | come say hi :3

Y O U wake up to incoherent mumbling. Well, it's not quite mumbling when you can hear it all the way to your bedroom but you digress. With heavy lids you drag yourself out from underneath the covers, taking slow and sluggish steps to the kitchen where you hear another wave of Spanish obscenities spill from the dark haired male's lips. There's a sharp and metallic smell hanging in the air, tickling your nose as you scrunch it.

"Inútil pedazo de mierda, espero que mueras en tu -"

"Miguel."

He whips around, the scowl that once settled deeply over his features relaxing as he takes in your semi sleepy state. In one hand he clutches a spatula, which is bent at a strange angle, and on the counter a piece of paper is spread out, sprawled with messy, thick handwriting. His broad shoulders block your view of the stove but if you had to take a guess he was most likely trying to cook. He's decided to forego a shirt this morning, clad in a pair of black sweatpants that hang low on his hips, giving you a delicious peek of his vline and happy trail, his brown hair tousled from sleep.

"Mi corazón, baby, good morning," he gushes, his lips pressing flat into a painfully inconspicuous smile as he shuffles two or three steps to the right, blocking your view of the stove and kitchen counter behind him. "What are you- Why up so early? I thought you were going to sleep in?"

You lean against the kitchen counter, raising a curious brow as you try to peek behind him before smiling lazily. "I could hear you swearing all the way to the bedroom."

His shoulders deflate a little and his lips pull into what you swore was a pout. "Oh."

Lyla's voice cuts through the silence, a teasing lilt to her voice, "Your eggs are burning."

The tips of his ears are red and the blush only seems to spread to his cheeks, a furious shade of red that could've easily matched the red of his hero suit. "No, they're not. I like my eggs well done, y'know? Nice and crispy -"

"They've turned black."

Miguel's shoulders stiffen and his hand twitches at his side. "Lyla, would you please just-"

You narrowly supress a chuckle, shaking your head as you snicker underneath your breath. Sliding past the island counter you dip past Miguel, turning off the stove and grabbing the pan. You knew that with his abilities he could've easily stopped you from seeing his mess but he lets you glide past him without any objection, merely dropping his head between his shoulders with a sigh.

"C'mon, Miggy," you coo softly, your voice soft and adorned with quiet encouragement as you reach out to take one of his hands. He doesn't hesitate to clasp your hand with his own, encompassing you in a wave of warmth, silent assurance paired with a squeeze.

You're here with him.

He's got you.

"Let's try again, yeah?" you murmur as you lead him back to the walk in pantry. "We always do better when we're together."

Miguel follows behind you like a puppy, passing Lyla's monitor where she simply crosses her arms and gives him a cheeky, knowing smile.

#˳೫˚ — recommendations #miguel x reader #you mean to tell me that this monstrosity of a man can’t handle EGGS?!!#i’m dying

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gabzlovesu-archived · 2 years ago

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the way this was was sweet, then funny, then hot. I swear my facial expressions changed every damn minute reading this 😭

DO I WANNA KNOW?

Chapter Four: "Maybe I'm too busy bein' yours to fall for someone new"

Keishin Ukai x Reader

✨You and Keishin decide to be assholes to someone who deserves it✨

He’s fucking furious right now, actually. He’s so furious he’s clear-headed. Calm. No one should’ve had the power to do this to you. No one deserved the ability to wound you like this. He’ll do everything he can to make sure it’ll never happen again. That no one else will ever make you cry like this.

And he’ll make sure that this fucker will never get to know that he did this to you.

“Hey,” he murmurs; he cups your face and tips your chin up to meet his gaze. And when your eyes meet again, he knows exactly what needs to be done.

AO3

Chapter Content Deets!(For all fic content tags, please check the full work post here): afab!reader, black woman reader, she/her pronouns, reader is described a little, former Olympian!reader, childhood best friends, high school sweethearts turned exes, no y/n usage, nickname ("Berry" [spoiler: it will be explained later]), name calling (you call each other "asshole", eventual smut, for now kissing, ANGST, but with FLUFF PAYOFF!, light hair pulling, heavy PDA, somnophilia (negotiated and consent off-screen), oral (fem and male receiving), fingering, dirty talk, light brat taming, overstimulation, mild degradation, praise, being mean to your ex (lol)

6,461 words

It’s not something either of you have ever discussed, but you and Kei have a very distinct core memory of your previous relationship that has come back to you both pretty frequently in the years you’ve spent apart.

It was…three days? before you went official in front of all your classmates, two days after Kei pried a confession out of you and kissed you in his car. Two days, and you’d already had sex 8 times. Your aunt was off on a vacation, and you both had a rare weekend off. You’d woken up that Saturday morning to him pressing kisses to your neck and chest, licking and biting softly against your skin.

“You look good in my hoodie,” he said; his voice muffled as he pushed the fabric off your nipple and wrapped his lips around it, flicking the tip of his tongue against it.

“Good morning to you too,” you moaned, squirming underneath him, the cold metal of his hoodie zipper pressed to your side making you feel hot all of a sudden. “Does that mean I can keep this one too?”

“No,” he huffed, pressing more soft kisses to your chest as he shifted to your other nipple and repeated the motion, the palm of his hand weighing down against your twisting pelvis. “I’ve already lost half my sweats to you.”

“Mean. What are you doing?”

“Making you feel good. You wanna feel good?”

“Yeah,” you replied. Kei grinned up at you.

“If you insist, Berry.” Your ear quirked as you took in that nickname for the millionth time. You’ve known him your entire life, and he’s been calling you that ever since the moment you handed him half a packet of Now&Laters when you were six and he decided the two of you would be best friends forever, but it never even occurred to you to ask before now—

“Kei?” you sat up as he made a trail of kisses down from your chest to your stomach, and he looked up at you, eyes big and brown and twinkly.

“Mm?”

“Why do you call me Berry?” He smirked.

“You’re just asking now? Really?”

“It just occurred to me now,” you fired back, and he laughed. “Well?”

“Fine,” he pressed another soft kiss to the spot above your belly button and huffed as he sat up a bit. “Before you and your aunt moved into that house the people who lived there first had a little garden in the back where they grew strawberries in the summer. And they were amazing strawberries. Fucking delicious—”

“Nice for them, but what’s that got to do with me?” “Shush,” he snapped, lightly slapping the side of your thigh. “I’m getting there. The whole neighborhood called it the Ichigo house. They moved eventually but we still kept calling it the Ichigo house. And the first day you moved in was around Christmas, you were wearing this bright red sweater and a green bow in your afro puff and my dad said ‘she looks like a cute little brown strawberry’. And he and my mom just kept calling you the little strawberry girl. And it just stuck. Until they met you, that is. But yeah. Berry.”

A smile spread across your face before you could stop it and he grinned in response, leaning down to press another soft kiss to your tummy.

“Okay, I don’t mind it now that I know Uncle Jukito came up with it. That’s sweet.” Kei scoffed as he tugged one side of your underwear down your hip.

“I knew you would.”

“Not my fault your dad is hot and nicer to me than you.”

“For the millionth time,” he sighed in that way that told you he was at his limit. “Please stop calling my dad hot. Especially when we’re about to fuck.” You snorted, but laid back again all the same and his head ducked down to press another soft kiss to your stomach. “Also you didn’t ask but, if you wanna dye your hair back to red, I don’t know anyone who would complain.”

“I thought you hated it!” You barely stifled a moan as he licked across your hip and bit.

“I loved it. I hated having to cock block every asshole in our school trying to get at you. But you’re mine now, and I can fight. So do it. If you want to.”

“Noted,” you whimpered softly; Kei’s fingers skimmed along the edge of your wet slit, and his thumb pressed into your clit, letting out a soft huff of a laugh when you whine, shuddering.

He cherishes that memory, so deeply; one of many that makes the sight in front of him so much more special.

Man…he really missed the sight of this.

The last time he woke up to you laying in his bed was the morning of the day you left for college. He still lived with his parents, and he hadn’t yet told you that he hadn’t applied to Tokyo University. He’d been planning to break the news to you then, but he knew things would be changing, knew that you would be upset. So he’d been up earlier than you’d planned, just to…soak this in. Regardless of how this went, he knew this would probably be the last time he would have this for a while.

You were wearing his jersey, maybe one of his spare away game ones, he couldn’t remember exactly. But this was one of the rare months where the season was over and his granddad convinced you to take time off, so your braids were waist length, cascading along your shoulders from under the silk headscarf you leave when you sleep over.

All he wanted to do was hold you, press kisses all over your face, but he didn’t want to break the illusion. Didn’t want to introduce real life into this before he had to. So he let you sleep, until your alarm went off, and you had to rush out to finish packing, with the promise that he’d meet you at the train station with his own overnight bag that night. Obviously…obviously that hadn’t happened.

But now. Now? Now is even better. For obvious reasons (not in his parents’ house, disposable income, general adulthood meaning real free time, your relationship being better) yes, but also because you look gorgeous lying in the blue of the early morning like this, your skin deep brown and soft. You’re a fucking dream. If he weren’t in love with you already, hadn’t been secretly harboring and nursing his love for you all these years, then this would be the moment he’d be lost to you. So fucking perfect…

“Hey,” he says. He brushes your braids away from your face and runs the tips of his fingers along your jaw, watching the slowly turning moon-to-sunlight play across your skin. “Wake up. We’re gonna be late.”

“No,” you grunt, furrowing your brow. “Don’t wanna. Too early.”

“Okay, fair, it is 4 am,” he replies, chuckling. Your eyes open at that and you stare him down, your face on the verge of what seems like panic.

“4 fucking, wait, what are you still doing in bed, aren’t you supposed to be at the field?!” His hand finds your shoulder and he shoves you back down.

“It’s fine. I’m taking off today, remember? Today? The day? The day we planned out three days ago?” He preempts your impending argument, his eyebrow arching as he looks over to your suitcases in the corner, and you slap a pillow over your face in response. “You need to go get your stuff, Berry. It's been a week.”

“I know,” you groan softly. “I just…I’m not looking forward to this confrontation.” Kei shifts to lay down next to you, hooking his arm around your waist, and shuffles into you until his head is nestled under the pillow with you. He leans against your neck and kisses you softly.

“I’ll be with you the whole time. And it shouldn’t take long, right? Just your clothes and your books, some kitchen stuff, one or two bits of furniture—”

“Nothing’s packed,” you sigh. “My clothes are still in my closet, my books are scattered all over the apartment, I’m sure he’s been using my mugs because he always does—”

“If he was, we’ll wash them when we get back here. And if we leave when you said we should, which would be in…an hour, 45 minutes if we don’t stop for breakfast, he won’t be there.”

“What if he is?” Kei yanks the pillow off your head and tugs your hip, flipping on top of you. He holds your chin and presses a kiss to your mouth; you shiver and reach for him in kind, pulling him down to lay across your body. You’re breathless and still reaching to kiss him more when he leans away from you. He smiles, gently stroking the line of your cheek.

“Then we’ll deal with it, angel. Like we used to. Like we do now.” He sits up, and drags you up behind him. “Besides, I’d love to meet the guy who could never measure up to me. Poor guy never had a chance—”

“Fuck’s sake,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “I shouldn’t’ve told you that, you’ll never fucking let it go now—”

“You are correct, but that’s a future problem for you. Right now, I need you to get dressed so we can get on the road. Because,” he lets out a soft exhale as his eyes trail down from yours, down to your mouth, to your collarbone, lower, darting between each of the marks he left on your bare chest. “If you stay undressed like this for long, I will fuck you again and then the whole day will be shot. We’ll have to wash the sheets for the fourth time in like 5 days.” You roll your eyes as you swing your legs out of bed and stretch your nearly naked body, then turn to look at him over your shoulder with a grin.

“Fine,” you reply, “gimme like…30 minutes. Or 15 and then I’ll suck your dick before we leave. Cool?” Kei’s gaze darkens as he takes you in.

“Berry,” he sighs. “You’re not gonna be able to carry boxes if you let me get started. And honestly I just showered, I cannot fucking fuck you in this room again until we get the AC from your place and put it in here.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “30 minutes it is.” Kei’s watching you, eyes trailing down your body hungry and slow, watching as you collect the clothes he ripped off you the night before, then move over to your suitcase to pick out moving clothes—

“Fuck,” he groans; he slings an arm around your waist and tosses you back into bed. “Fuck. An hour won’t kill us.”

“S’a five hour drive, Kei,” you reply, laughing. “And you’re right…we shouldn’t waste your day off.”

“An hour eating you out is never wasted time,” he says, his eyebrows knitting together. You roll your eyes.

“That’s very romantic, I guess. But Taki and Shima are helping today too, remember? I don’t wanna keep them waiting. Because you know Tak will not fucking wait.”

Kei sighs. Then looks down at you splayed out underneath him, and kisses you softly again, then rolls onto his back, and lets you climb off him, before he smacks your ass, so hard you can feel it jiggle, the pain swooping in seconds later.

“Run. Before I change my mind.”

“Sooooooooo,” you look over to him from the passenger seat of his car. He looks over the edge of his coffee cup at you, eyebrow cocked.

“So? What?”

“We’ve got some catching up to do.”

“A week wasn’t enough catching up time?” He replies, incredulous.

“Obviously not, because we spent all of it fucking.”

“Not all,” he protests. “We went to practice, I went to work, you did some editing—”

“And we had sex after, before, between, and sometimes during all of those things. I’m shocked you can walk. I’m shocked you woke up before I did.”

“What can I say,” Kei’s brow quirks. “That pussy’s better than coffee.”

“Jesus Christ,” you snort. “Can you please take this seriously? We lost 6 years. We have 5 hours to cover as much as we can.”

“One way. There’s still the return drive—”

“Keishin.”

“The full name, Jesus, okay, I’m listening. What d’you wanna know?”

“Good. Thank you. Now. Why the fuck did you dye your hair blonde?” Kei snorts.

“Why’s yours that—?”

“Because you said I looked good,” you reply simply. Kei’s eyebrow shoots up.

“Seriously?” You nod.

“You may have made me mad, but you were right, like you usually are. This is my color. So I changed it and I didn’t look back.” Kei huffs a breath, but doesn’t offer a word, for a few minutes.

“I needed a change,” he says, suddenly. He casts a look over to you, then. “I felt stuck.”

“Was this before or after college?” He shrugs.

“I grew my hair out during college. Dyed it a year or two ago.”

“Oh.” Kei goes silent. The thought that you should say something crosses your mind a split second before he says—

“You broke my heart.” He casts a look to you over his arm, and he sighs, loud and heavy with embarrassment. “Like I said a couple days ago, I’ve been trying to get over you for 6 fucking years and I just…you know, so I dyed my hair.”

“Damn,” you say after a long, awkward stretch of silence. “I really got you turnt out, huh.”

“You are so fucking annoying,” he laughs. You smile back at him, reaching to him to lightly yank a lock of his hair, carding the soft, thick section through your fingers.

“You like it though,” you reply, smiling.

“Yeah, I do, unfortunately,” he replies; he reaches for your outstretched hand, then tugs it out of his hair and kisses it, softly, across your knuckles, a smile spreading across his face. “So, from the top. College. Discuss.”

~*~*~

The light is different. Maybe because you haven’t been there in days after you spent almost all day everyday there for a year. But it could just be that Jacob changed the fucking light fixtures in the living room. Could be because he also made the living room more crowded by packing up all your shit and shoving it into the corner closest to the door. You peek over the edge of a box and catch sight of your wok underneath a bunch of haphazardly-wrapped mugs and wineglasses, then look to see your books packed into a box stacked next to it. You narrow your eyes. It was nice. Uncharacteristically nice. He must’ve done something; he didn’t seem crazy pissed about the jacket but maybe you missed something—

“Shame,” you look up at the sound of Takinoue’s voice to see him and Kei dragging wardrobe boxes in from the foyer to look around the living room. Takinoue runs a hand through his short blonde hair and huffs out a sigh as he meets your gaze.

“What?”

“Shame that the guy on the lease sucks,” he spots the AC in the window and starts toward it, tugging a screwdriver out of his jacket pocket. “It’s a nice apartment.”

“Tak,” you huff. He shrugs.

“What? It’s true.”

“So,” Kei casts a look around the room, then stares at the stack of boxes next to you. “S’that all your stuff?”

“Uh,” you reply, then cast a look over the stacks of boxes, then a cursory look around the living room. Fuck…you knew you didn’t have a lot of stuff here, but seeing it put into this context is really bringing it all together for you. You should’ve known this wasn’t going to last. How could it when Jacob wouldn’t even make space for you? When you’d spent most of your relationship calling the space you both lived in ‘his apartment’? “Most of it, I think? Kitchen seems to be accounted for. My side of the closet isn’t here, though side is saying a lot, most of my clothes are actually still in packing boxes.”

“Jeez,” Takinoue replies. “You weren’t kidding. Where’s the rest of your shit? Did you even have shit?”

“Eh,” you reply. “I moved in with him. He already had his stuff here, so I left most of my things at my aunt’s place and just brought my clothes and shit. It just made the most sense at the time.”

“Mm, well,” Kei comes forward and wraps his arms around you, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “We’ll drive down to hers and get your stuff in a couple weeks. That is…if you still wanna move back.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “I think she’ll be glad to have her garage back.”

He smiles, kisses you even harder, then groans, pulling away from you when you sink your hand into his hair.

“I’m gonna vomit in my fucking hands,” Takinoue says, loudly. Kei rolls his eyes, but smiles down at you.

“We’ll get that window AC out and start loading these. You pack up your closet. Hop to.”

“Yes coach,” you reply. Kei grins, nudging you toward the hall after giving your ass a good swat. Takinoue mimes vomiting and you snort.

“We gotta hustle anyway,” you say. “I don’t want Makoto to have to hang out down there with the truck for too long.”

“Shouldn’t be longer than a few hours, if you pack with intention,” Kei replies.

“Yes coach,” you yell back from the hall, and you let out a loud laugh when he barks. He likes that nickname a little too much, you muse as you drag the wardrobe boxes behind you on your way down the hall to the bedroom. You should try it out more often.

Your suspicions get sharper when you come into the bedroom and you see a stack of collapsed boxes wedged between the bed frame and the wall next to the door. You didn’t order these; you pull out your phone to check the text thread between the two of you, and you affirm that you haven’t received a message from him in the past week. He bought you a bunch of moving boxes, packed up most of your shit, and didn’t tell you.

Most of…

Your eyes whip over to the dresser, to see a large box sitting next to it, your t-shirts and sweats peeking from the top. You rifle through it for a moment, spotting a few of your old jerseys, and…fuck.

It’s not there.

Anxiety climbs high in your body as you whip the closet door open, then feverishly take stock of the stuff hanging there. Then look over your old moving boxes stacked on the top shelf. As far as you can tell, everything in there is where you left it. You don’t remember the last time you saw it, but maybe you hung it up after digging it out of that box in the corner?

So much for moving into a bigger place together, you muse, smiling grimly as you find the divide between his clothes and yours. Sakanoshita’s apartment has more closet space, so you’ll at least be able to hang all your things instead of shoving them in storage.

You begin pulling the boxes down from the shelf and stacking them in the hall, and once that’s done, you start taking the hanging clothes out and placing them into the wardrobe boxes. It’ll turn up. It has to.

~*~*~

A couple hours later, Kei knocks on the bedroom door, and you look up from the dresser, your face a mask of mild distress.

“Hey,” his brow furrows as he takes you in. “What’s up? I thought you were done in there?”

“Me too, but,” you go back to the drawer you’re rifling through. “There’s something missing. I’ve gone through this whole fucking room and I can’t find it.” Kei comes into the room and kneels next to you on the floor.

“Well, those boxes from your closet were pretty full—”

“It’s not in those, I’m sure of it,” you shove that drawer closed and pull open the next one; based on how messy the stacks are, he can tell you’ve gone through it already. “I pulled it out of one of the boxes a month ago.”

“Maybe I can help. What is it, what’s it look…” he catches a stressed look in your eye before you look up at him and meet his gaze; he’s not even sure you heard him.

“Shit,” you say. “We’re behind aren’t we, what time is it?”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “Tak and I got the coffee table and the armchair down, and I finished packing the bathroom a while ago. We got the lamp you asked for too, and the bookcase.”

“How the fuck did you pack up the bathroom without me?”

“Your scent preferences haven’t changed in six years,” he replies, winking. “I know what you like, Berry. Plus, there’s fuckin’ Axe in there. I just took all the expensive-looking stuff that had shea in the ingredients list, because I know Jacob’s not using that shit.” You roll your eyes, but Kei catches the curl of your mouth before worry creases your forehead again.

“Thank you, but…” you let out a sigh, then cast another look around the room. “Fuck, I can’t believe I lost it.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s in one of those boxes, okay? We’ll look for it when we start unpacking.” He pulls you to your feet, and kisses your forehead. “Come on. Takinoue and Makoto are already driving your stuff back. Let’s double check the other rooms and maybe we’ll find whatever it is?”

“Okay,” you sigh. You follow him into the living room, and as you cast a look around it, your gaze lingering on the conspicuously open spot where your armchair used to sit, he hooks his arm around you and kisses your temple.

“It’s okay if you’re sad to be leaving,” he says. “I understand.” You look up at him then, your eyes a bit shiny.

“I just feel…all I can think about is how I wasted time here, with him.”

“Hey,” Kei tweaks your chin and nudges it up until you meet his brown eyes with your own. “If this hadn’t fallen apart, we probably wouldn’t be here together. I’m grateful. Even if I fucking hate him.” You snort.

“Well, when you put it like that…” Kei squeezes your shoulder and turns you to face the bookshelves.

“Yeah,” he says. “Double check in here. I’ll go fix those drawers.”

“Yeah, nah,” you say. “I think we’re good. I was dividing up my stuff in here for a couple weeks and he cleared out the side I set up. I already got the books I loaned him packed with my clothes.” You pull him along with you to the hall and push him toward the door, then turn into the kitchen. “I’m just gonna double check in here, it looks like he packed all my stuff but I just want to be—”

You stop cold. Mid-sentence. You actually freeze in place so thoroughly Kei’s almost convinced you’ve become a statue.

“Oh my God,” you whisper. “What the fuck?”

“What?” Kei says, instantly on alert, “what’s wrong?”

You start creeping toward the sink. “You and Tak didn't come in here at all, did you?”

“No, you said…” Kei’s voice falters in his throat as you reach in and pull out a charred black and sopping wet clump of orange. He catches the very top of a faded black “U” and lowercase “K” etched into the fabric before the realization hits him. You turn to look at him.

“Fucking asshole,” you say, and your eyes well up. “He burnt it.”

It’s not even the hoodie that throws him off. He doesn’t really care that a hoodie you stole from him 10 years ago was ruined; he has plenty, he can give you the one he’s wearing right now off his back and he honestly wouldn’t miss it.

No. It’s the face you’re making, the pain in your voice when you saw it burnt, shredded, and sopping wet in the kitchen sink. Utterly heartbroken. He knows how much you loved that hoodie; you stole it from him after one practice and went to great lengths to keep it away from him until he gave up and gifted it to you. He’d even started spraying his cologne on it occasionally.

Kei’s sure your ex torched it purely because it had his name on the back. His eyes land on the clock above the stove. Nearly 6. If your guess was right, he should be coming back soon…

“No fucking wonder he packed up my shit for me,” you whisper. “He ruined it. Left it somewhere I could see it. Knew he wouldn’t do something so nice without twisting the fucking knife.”

“Hey,” Kei says, softly. You turn away from the sink, the faded orange scrap of fabric in your hands, and fuck, truly the saddest look he’s ever seen etched into your expression. He’s gonna have to call his mom and see if she still has his old uniforms and sweats; he really can’t bear to see you so hurt and sad. “C’mere.”

“What, Kei,” you sigh. He shrugs, then lets a soft smile spread across his face. Despite your devastation, your eyebrow cocks in suspicion.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise. I have plenty of hoodies for you to steal now.”

You don’t even hesitate. “I want this one though. This one is special. It’s why he fucking destroyed it.”

“I promise, I can find you another one. I’ll just ask m—”

“No,” you say, your voice suddenly sharp and on the edge of hysterics. Kei’s eyebrows shoot up as you try to quell the sudden tears in the corners of your eyes. Your voice cracks as you try to explain, “this one is special. I was…I’d been having feelings for you for a long time, and I was scared to tell you, and this was like, your first Karasuno hoodie. It had your fucking starter number on it and everything. You were really proud, and you wore it all the time until your number changed and I told myself that like…” you trail off. But Kei doesn’t let you off that easily; how can he? He reaches forward, tilts your chin up until your sad, beautiful eyes meet his.

“Go on,” he says softly. You bite your bottom lip, in that way you do when you’re trying not to cry, and he’s patient as you get your breath back under you.

“Fuck, it’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid—”

“It means something to you, so it isn’t. Tell me.”

“I told myself that…if I could get you to give it to me, then it meant that, maybe you felt the same way, that I had a chance. And you let me borrow it after practice once, and then when I got home that night you let me keep it, and then…we were together like 3 weeks later. I know it’s stupid, I know it’s not why, but…it’s lucky, Kei. It kept you in my life. And now it’s ruined forever.” Kei’s chest gets tight as you begin to cry, and he pulls you into his arms, shushing you.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’d rather have you than my old sweatshirt. We don’t need it anymore anyway. You’re not running away from me ever again.” Your arms tighten around him, and he hugs you to him closer. The tightness in his chest distills, settles into something that he can make sense of, and it hits him. He’s…angry.

He thought he was familiar with his anger. He thought he met every level and facet and color of it. He thought, once he confronted himself about leaving you at the train station, once he processed his own sorrow at you ghosting him, once he understood his own frustration with wanting his granddad’s approval, once he made friends with the discomfort of his parents’ mortality, that he had met every version of anger he could feel. But this is different. This is…rage. Something close to that competitive fury he felt when he played volleyball, but much higher. Far more elevated. What he felt when he saw the way Matsui Shinji looked at you, but worse. When Kei realized for the first time that other people could see what he saw in you. And he would move heaven and earth to make sure they knew you were his.

And he’ll make sure that this fucker will never get to know that he did this to you.

“Hey,” he murmurs; he cups your face and tips your chin up to meet his gaze. And when your eyes meet again, he knows exactly what needs to be done.

His mouth presses against yours, and you gasp, sinking into the insistent warmth of his arms around you. Your lips part, and he can taste you; the tangy salt of your tears, the smooth nuttiness of the coffee you drank on the drive here. His tongue slips past your lips, and you whimper, gently, arching your back to get closer to him, and he grins against your mouth. That’s his girl…you’ll certainly feel your feelings, but you’ll never let them get in the way of a fuck. And that’s exactly what you both need right now.

A good ol’ fashioned “you’re mine now” fuck.

And what better place to do it than in your ex’s bed?

As if you read his mind, you break away from his lips, gasping as his mouth trails along your jaw, down your throat—“Kei, no, we can’t do this here, it’s too risky—”

“Who’s gonna stop us,” he breathes. His hand snakes down your body, slips into the front of your sweats, and you arch more against him, gasping as his fingertips press against your clit. “You’re already doing pretty bad if you’re planning to.”

“Kei,” you whimper. His arm curls tighter around you and his mouth presses tighter to yours, feeling you shudder against him as his fingertips probe deeper into you, plunging slow into the warm, suddenly gushy depths of you. Your eyelids flutter as you melt into him, but he knows you can see the grin that spreads across his face.

“Yes, baby?” He whispers, softly. “You need something from me?”

“More,” you reply; your fingers dig into his shoulders, and when he curls his, the heel of his hand digging into your clit, you squeeze around him, a little spasm that makes you breathless and makes his dick hard, immediately.

And that’s that, you’re done protesting; you’re pushing your sweats off and he’s winding your legs around his waist, pulling you higher and closer to his body, and you’re tugging his jeans open, but he’s moving quick, navigating down the hall you both just traversed, shoving the bedroom door wide open and dropping you on the bed, folding over and weighing you down, his fingers slipping back into you in a flash.

He has a plan here; his dick’s so hard he might come just kissing you, but it can’t be about him right now, not if he wants maximum damage.

You’re so easy for him, and he’s never been more thankful for it than he is right now; you come so easily for him, riding his fingers, moaning softly against his lips. He just…needs a little taste of you…he shouldn’t if he wants to get the timing right, but…he can’t deny how much he wants it—

Your thighs squeeze around his head, but he’s quick with it, pressing his palms to the insides of your knees, and shoving them open, holding them down, not skipping a beat as his tongue laves across your clit, alternating between soft kisses and strong, wet licks.

Turns out he doesn’t need to rush; your estimation was a bit off. He’s not even mad, quite the contrary. He could spend days between your thighs, drawing out every letter, every character he knows, committing every little sound you make to memory, creating new combinations to test out for the future.

Fuck, you’re hot. You always have been, always been so desperately sexy to him, in a way that made him want to bend you over and shove his face between your cheeks at every opportunity. He was a menace, he knew that; after you first started dating he’d probably spent more time making out with your pussy than you, but he couldn’t help it. If you could understand just how good you taste, how perfect you feel around his dick—

He chokes back a snarl when he finally finally breaks you open on his cock, pulling handfuls of your ass toward him as he sinks into you, much faster than he should, watching the line of your spine curl. A tight vice, so tight he’s a little worried, like always, that those are actually cries of pain, that this is finally the time your snug sheath of a pussy won’t be able to take him.

But like always, you roll your hips back, then in slow circles, adjusting to the weight and feel of him in you. ‘The prettiest cunt’, he sighs, softly, soft shades of brown fading into gorgeous pink, split wide open around his dick, pulsing, squeezing, hot and so fucking ready for him.

“What a fucking idiot,” he breathes, rolling his hips into you. You let out a muffled whimper and twist, but he just grips the dip in your thighs and repeats the motion. “Fucking idiot to give up this pussy.” You gasp and he speeds up, just a little— “Lucky enough to get a piece and wasted it. That’s okay. It’s all mine now. Back where it belongs. So I can fuck it just right. Tight and wet and fucking mine, baby, right? Right?”

“Yeah,” you moan, and Kei grins, pleased, wide and breathless. “All yours, Kei. Fuck. Just yours.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, giving my pussy away to him?” He lays a sharp slap across your ass and curses when you squeeze around him on the impact. Fuck. “Huh? Are you stupid?”

“M’sorry, m’so sorry—”

“You better fucking be.”

Kei hears a series of creaks from the hall, subtle, but very much noticeable and smirks, doubling his efforts. He almost feels bad; he can imagine how awful it would be, coming into his apartment, expecting to be alone, and hearing…this. Hearing whimpers that he thought he’d never hear again, maybe ones you’d never done for him. Hearing you moan Kei’s name, begging him to make you come again, telling him that no one’s fucked you as good as he can. That your pussy was made for him.

It’s gotta be worse, seeing it. Coming around the corner, to look into his bedroom and seeing you, his way-out-of-his-league ex, bent over, hair a mess, tits spilling out of your bra, shirt hanging from one shoulder, sobbing into his bedspread, while your-former-ex-now-current-boyfriend he could never compete with mercilessly fucks you from behind. Humiliating, to hear you cry like this. To hear how wet your pussy is, with so little effort. To listen to you say how weak his dick was, how Kei’s dick fills you up so perfectly—

Kei almost feels bad.

Almost.

And when Kei reaches forward, grabs a handful of your hair, and yanks you up so you can see Jacob, so Jacob can see you fall apart on Kei’s dick, so he can listen to you whine at full volume, so you get to look him in the eye and say “no one will ever fuck me as good as you do, Kei”—

Well. He knows it’s cruel. But you let him do it. You don’t hesitate when Kei tells you to speak. You could tell him to stop, and he would. But you don’t. You don’t turn away. In fact, when Kei reaches down and presses his fingers to your clit, you counter, arching your back, bouncing down harder on his dick, digging your fingers into his hips for leverage.

Kei can see your ex going through all the stages of grief. He wants to laugh at him. But he thinks watching you come and squirt on his dick, letting out a raw, loud, gorgeous moan is enough. Kei’s not done though; he’s gotta twist the knife. He squeezes your post-orgasmic fucked-out face, and presses a soft kiss to your cheekbone, a sinister grin spreading across his lips.

“Take a photo if you want,” he pants, slapping the side of your thigh for good measure. “It’s the last time you’ll ever see her come. If you ever did.”

And he stops caring about the presentation at that point. He folds you back over, and he starts hammering into you, fucking you with wild abandon, filthy and wet until he comes with a satisfied moan, thrusting shallowly against you as the mixture of your come spills out of you, drips down your thighs to the rumpled bedspread.

It doesn’t matter to either of you whether your ex is still standing there at this point. But he’s gone when you finish. Just as well; he’d probably be even more devastated if he heard you having a second round in the shower. But after that, you finish packing up the last bits of your stuff and load it into Kei’s car with no further issues (or any other burned items).

Kei clears his throat on the drive home and you look at him from behind the wheel, your grip relaxed as you shift gears.

“Good?” You stare at him a little too long, then roll your eyes, smiling softly.

“You’re an asshole,” you reply.

“Takes one to know one,” Kei smirks as he takes your free hand, then presses a soft kiss across your knuckles.

Yeah. He can get used to the stairs.

He’s not budging on two AC units though. He loves you, but not enough to wake up drenched in sweat every morning.

#˳೫˚ — recommendations #moots [🖤]: toni #ukai keishin x reader #haikyuu!!#getting your back blown by kei in front of your ex >>>

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gabzlovesu-archived · 2 years ago

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notes: based on asks sent by @unknownspecies and @kuroosdarling ! thank u guys for the inspo ! just a little fic for iwas bday :3 enjoy

warnings: mentions of bugs, animal crossing knowledge used for plot

tagging: @gabzlovesu <3

"boo."

you jump two feet at the presence of your boyfriend, iwaizumi, as he sneaks up behind you. a squeal leaves you when he traps you in his jacket and arms.

"haji!" you huff, looking at him incredulously, "you scared the daylights out of me!" you squirm under his jacket, wrestling against the man.

he grins, holding you closer as he has confined you in his jacket. you don't really mind it, he's shirtless under the thin material and feels really toned. like, really toned. your head feels like it's resting on clouds instead of pecs.

"what did you want me to meet you for?" he asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"nothing important, just need to go run some errands and wondered if you wanted to come with me?" you ask, squeezing his hand.

"oh," he tries to hide his fallen expression of disappointment. he really didn't want to think you forgot his birthday, but with the way things were looking, he thinks maybe you did. "sure."

he can't be mad at you, or upset. or he tries not to, because he is, but not so much to the point of him wanting to talk about it.

"great! let's go!" you say, moving to separate from him. he seems spaced off and you nudge him gently.

"haji?"

"yeah?"

"you need to unzip me first."

"oh, right."

by the time you get to the car, you pause, telling him there’s something you need to do.

“this errand requires you being blindfolded.” you explain straightforwardly.

he raises a brow, skeptical, "what's going on? is this a prank?"

"close your eyes, please." you instruct, avoiding his question. “i can’t tell you without over explaining.”

iwaizumi sighs before following your instructions, feeling a cloth being tied around his eyes. once making sure the cloth isn't too tight and making him pinky promise to not peek (with sworn honor), you hit the road.

"how long is this errand of yours going to take?" he asks, mindlessly glancing as if he could see.

"not too long. it'll all make sense when we get there. trust me."

"right." he tries to settle back in his seat, but the impending thoughts in his mind would not rest.

eventually, the trip for this 'errand' becomes a 45 minute drive (iwaizumi knows from asking for the time repeatedly).

he wants to joke that you're kidnapping him and taking him out somewhere suspicious, but doesn't.

the car comes to a complete stop eventually, and his drowsy nature leaves him completely. he hears your get out and coming around the side of the car to where he is, and he can't help the beat of his heart.

"careful," you make sure he doesn't hit his head on the way out of the car. your hands, much more soft and delicate than his own, move you both out to another area. he hears chirping and the sound of gravel and grass as you two walk. something about the scent of the air...is all familiar to him.

could it be—

"okay, we're finally here!" he hears you say. "i'm going to take your blindfold off now."

he grunts in acknowledgment, feeling you fiddle with the cloth before it slips off completely. his sight is blurred and he blinks repeatedly, rubbing his eyes before they adjust to his surroundings.

his green eyes light up with recognition, "it's—"

"the park we used to play in as kids, yes." you giggle, smiling. "you thought i forgot, didn't you? about your birthday?”

he looks mildly panicked but shakes his head, "what? n-no..."

you chuckle, "yes you did, you looked so grumpy when i told you i was going on an errand. is it really that easy to get you to do something for me?"

"if it's you, then yes," he answers without hesitation, "i do trust you, after all. but you know i'd do anything for you—even if it drives me insane."

you become shy at his words and how forward he is, but also flattered.

he's silent as he inhales, taking in his surroundings, "wow, it hasn't changed too much."

"still as beautiful as i remember," you add, lacing your fingers with his.

he pulls you into his side, "and you've gotten more beautiful since then,"

you laugh into his chest, "no need to flatter me."

"jus' telling the truth." he says, and when you look up at him, you can tell by the dust on his neck, cheeks, and ears that he's being honest.

the two of you sit on a blanket, eating the food you packed and made (all mostly your boyfriend's favorites). you both reminisce over your childhood together, basking in the memories that felt so vivid, they could've happened yesterday.

the two of you would go bug catching, and occasionally oikawa would too. it was really the start of your friendship with each other.

"you wouldn't even go near any bug with a ten foot pole now." he laughs, clutching his side. "it's so funny, i need to tell shittykawa about this."

"t-that's not the point! you know i used to be brave enough to!" you pout.

"yeah, i thought you were crazy for picking up dead cicadas and talking to them." he smirks, poking your sides.

"maybe, but you like crazy." you roll your eyes.

he hums, pulling you into his side, "you're right. you're my perfect type of crazy."

you feel an elated warmth all over your body as you lean into his touch. "i have another surprise for you." you announce, beaming.

he raises a brow, surprised, "more? well aren't i lucky. what is it?"

you show him the bug nets and jars you brought, just like how when you were kids.

"you didn't."

"but i did!"

the two of you go out more into a woody area and venture for bugs. well, more like iwaizumi did, and you followed.

"you know we don't have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable..." he says, glancing over his shoulder for the umpteenth time to check on your stiff state.

"oh! i'm fine, i promise!" you say, waving your hands.

"really?"

"really!"

he doesn't look convinced. "okay, because there's a beetle on the tree right behind you." he says.

you shriek, fleeing down the meadow, making your boyfriend bark with laughter.

"kidding," he says, wiping a stray tear from his face.

"you're mean, haji." you pout, frowning.

he coos, kissing your forehead, "ahh i'm sorry, sweetheart, just messing with you. i've always protected you from the big bad bugs, haven't i?"

"sure," you sigh, relaxing again.

resuming your search, you grow a bit more comfortable with your surroundings and such. following your boyfriend, he pauses for a moment, noting a stag beetle on a tree bark.

"it's a rainbow stag beetle," he notes, holding it close and far enough from you to see.

"it's pretty," you murmur, admiring the metallic like colors of the shell.

he looks at you, "you want to hold it?"

there's a hesitant look on your face, "i don't know..."

he smiles, "you don't have to, it's okay. they are pretty harmless to humans, though."

"okay, well maybe—" you stiffen as he places the creature on your palms and shiver at the way it feels when it moves.

"not so bad, right?" he says, looking at you fondly.

"maybe not. i forgot how fun it is." you grin, looking back at the beetle. "and they're kinda cute...i guess."

eventually the two of you let the beetle go, bidding it goodbye and continuing your search for other fun things.

the night ends with you singing (to your best ability) iwaizumi happy birthday. even if it isn't the most beautiful singing he sure makes it look like it is. you hold the cupcake with a singularly lit candle.

"happy birthday haji! now blowout the candle and make a wish!" you say, beaming.

he can't help the shy smile that creeps to his face. he had never been the biggest fan of his own birthday (even with his obnoxious friends hyping it up), and especially now as an adult it felt just like another day. but something about celebrating it with you made him remember the special feeling of doing so when he was a kid.

he blows out the candle and you cheer, scooting to sit on his lap.

"okay, final gift." you announce, reaching for a bag.

he frowns, "i hope you didn't do too much for me." he didn't like when you spoiled him too much, but you don't care. he deserves it all.

"i can never do enough for you, what do you mean?" you pout, handing him the gift, "open it please?"

he takes the gift, unwrapping the objects from the tissue. one gift is a new watch for him to wear (since his old one long stopped working, and he was too lazy to get a new one) and the second, being a framed photo of you both as kids after bug hunting for your first time.

your boyfriend is silent after looking at the photo and you grow worried at his lack of response.

"are you okay? you're silence is scaring me—" you're surprised by his lips on your mouth, his calloused hand holding your jaw tight.

"thank you, you're a gem. you know that? an angel." his emerald eyes hold so much emotion, and you know he wants to say more. he's never been one big for words so he only kisses you again.

once pulling away, you shiver from the cold air and he sighs, unzipping his. "come here."

facing towards him, you wrap your legs around his torso, feeling his arms around you.

"you should've brought a jacket," he scolds, "i always tell you—"

"to keep one just in case, i know. but it's better like this. laying on your boobs."

he flushed red, "must you call them that?"

"yes," you answer, groping his chest. "it's not my fault they're so nice."

he doesn't answer you and only laughs. "anyways, thank you, for bringing me here. and celebrating with me." he says.

"of course, i'm glad you had fun. i've never seen you smile so much before. i always love seeing your smile.”

"well, when i'm with you, i do that a lot..." he says, scratching the back of his head.

"i’m glad. so, what did you wish for?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he smiles, "can't say."

you boo, grabbing his face, "aw come on, tell me! you're no fun..."

"you're not supposed to tell or it won't come true, right?" he asks, booping your nose.

the touch makes your wrinkle it up. "i guess so. but whatever it is, i hope it makes you happy."

he doesn't necessarily have to hope when all he needs to be happy is right here in his arms. the only thing he can hope for now, is for the perfect moment to propose to you and for a 'yes'. he's always know long in his heart you'd be the one he'd spend the rest of his life with.

#˳೫˚ — recommendations #moots [🖤]: kurisu #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu!!#this is so darn cute 😭#i would hold a big just for iwachan

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