unofficialbf!katsuki who secretly positions himself in ways that'll make cuddling him convenient... spreading his legs bc he knows you like to slot yourself between em, keeping his arms open so you can crawl right onto his chest... he would never ask you to cuddle, but if you do it all on your own, who is he to stop you? you're so damn clingy, after all!
꧁ mdni. smut. porn with what plot. unprotected piv sex. mentions of oviposition. ꧂
being split open on a merman's cock was rather irresponsible for a woman soon-to-be sold off in an arranged marriage.
but suguru could be awfully convincing.
"feel me in here, pretty girl?" he purred, pressing his palm down below your belly button, his slightly webbed fingers splayed out as his cock throbbed inside of you.
"uh, uh-huh," you nodded, whining as your back arched back, nails scrapping down his broad back as his sharp teeth snapped at your throat.
leaving bites you'd barely be able to hide beneath your clothes after it was all over, his free claws sinking into your forearm to pin you against the rock as he rutted in deeper. filling up every crevice, completely stuffing you full with no room left to even squirm.
"you thinking of me, princess?" he huffed, his usually honeyed voice coming out raw, ripped from the back of his throat as you gasped his name. "or that prince of yours?"
someone was jealous.
it wasn't your fault you'd been born into this position. or that your parents were determined to ship you off to another kingdom as a political pawn.
the most you could do to defy them was sneak out on silent nights like this, evading the guards stationed outside your room by climbing down the trellis and slipping past the landscaped garden to the beach below.
suguru had made a habit of waiting in the hidden cove tucked away around a curve in the rocky shore. the soft purple of his scales gleaming in the moonlight as he laid back on the flat rock he was so fond of fucking you on.
tonight was no different.
"you," you whined, nodding your head like a fool.
"what would he do if he knew his pretty princess wasn't so pure?" he dryly teased, his heavy tail pinning your legs down his swollen tip rubbed right up into the spongy spot of your cervix. daring to push past it, the intensity of the pressure threatening to push you over the edge already. "if he knew you'd given your virtue to someone like me."
"he'd call it off," you half-whispered, a treacherous flare of excitement stirring in your stomach as you imagined all the different ways he might try to make it happen.
you knew it was wrong. that you shouldn't want it.
but you liked that glimmer in his sharp eyes, the way his mouth curled up in a cruel smirk, sharp teeth visible for a second as he pulled himself out to plunge back in, his ribbed cocks rubbing you just right as he stretched you out and seared his thick shape into you.
it burned more at first, but you had gotten used to it. addicted to it. the way you could feel his cocks not quite rubbing against each other, only separated by the thin wall of your anatomy.
"will he now?" he asked, his gills straining from how long he'd been out of the water, but he didn't stop fucking you.
"suguru," you softly spoke his name, running your fingers through his dark hair, sifting through the damp, silky strands. "w-what are you-"
your question died in your throat as you felt the base of his top cock begin to swell, delicious added pressure pressing against your entrance.
"think he'd still put a ring on your finger if i put my eggs in you first?" he asked, cocking his head to the side as another broken gasp was torn from your throat.
the idea was supposed to be scary.
but he could feel the way you clenched at it, thighs trembling without so much as an ounce of trepidation, holding onto him to brace yourself for what was coming instead of squirming away from it.
craving him to complete you.
even if you weren't sure how if he could.
"i-i thought we weren't compatible," you stuttered, clinging to his shoulders as you felt something slowly starting to travel up, up, up his cock, whimpering as your walls barely managed to mold around him, struggling to take what he was trying to give.
the cock in your ass keeping you still, his grip on you firm as he clicked his tongue.
"oh, princess," he grinned. "that's nothing a little magic won't fix."
"what kind of magic?" you whispered, far more enthralled than you should be at the prospect of being his. at opening another door with him you really should've left stuff.
he didn't push the egg in yet.
daring you to beg him to either bury it in your womb or bail.
"oh baby," he coaxed, trailing a hand down to your swollen clit, pressing softly over it. "wanna be like me?"
"i wanna be yours," you whined, squeezing down as you nodded weakly.
no thoughts, just iwaizumi fucking you against your desk—you’re lying on top of your mounds of homework for uni, some papers crumpling from the movement, your computer in sleep mode from lack of use. your shorts and underwear decorate your ankle on the floor while your other leg is propped up on the chair, giving him that perfect angle to hit that sweet little spot that has you seeing stars and creaming all on him.
his hands grip your hips in a deliciously bruising hold as he fucks the stress out of you, whispering in your ear how you’re his smart girl who just works too damn hard. his smart girl who loves to go absolutely dumb from his fucking cock.
and when his smart girl is stressed… of course he’s gonna make you feel better.
“hajime—” your voice more of a breathy whine than a moan, “—fuck fuck—s’good, soo—ohh good.”
“yeah?” iwaizumi grabs a fistful of hair and pulls your head back to look at him. your eyes are glazed over in a beautiful, heady daze, reserved only for him. “am i fucking my princess dumb? can’t think about anything else?”
drool trickles down your chin as you babble out words you can barely articulate. “only you—fuck— oh my god… haji, ’m gonna—“
his hand comes down to your puffy little clit and rubs it just right for you to turn into a loud, whimpering mess. “c’mon—come for me, princess,” he groans, fucking you through it. he feels you clench around him, paired with a strangled, “‘m gonna make a mess! hajime!” before you finish—white clouding your vision. he groans as he nears his own finish, making sure you were finished with your own high before pulling out and jerking himself to come all over the swell of your ass.
and it’s been proven that every time he helps relieve your stress, you lock in and finish all your required assignments and get ahead on more. which, in turn, just means iwaizumi gets to tell you just how wonderful and smart his pretty girl is…
CONTENT: a story in which the bond you share with your boss is as exciting as it is confusing. [tw: MDNI, explicit smùt, mild crack, rom-com vibes with a smidge of angst, satoru being a little shit, office șex, breedıng kınk, piv şex, squırting, creampıe, backșhots] word count: 6.2k
notes: little comm for ms. @madamechrissy 🤭 i hope u enjoyed it bby
When you’re as rich and attractive as Satoru Gojo, the world is basically your playground. It was clear on your first day of working as his personal assistant that the man did whatever the hell he wanted and gave no fucks while doing so.
“. . . So with all that being said, I’m sure you can understand why I need you to start dressing in a way that’s more. . . fitting for your stature.”
“Yeah,” you nodded and lightly smiled, feeling a sense of warmth start to creep up your neck. “I understand, Mr. Gojo.”
The thing about Mr. Gojo? He had to be one of the most charming individuals you’ve ever come across. He knows how to make you feel special, even when he’s calling you an outfit repeater with no sense of style at the moment.
He’ll soften his gaze, speak with words coated in a thick layer of honey, flash that million dollar smile of his— every demand that came from him sounded so sweet, it was sickening.
He let out a pleased hum. “I knew you would.”
“It’s just– I don’t,” you cut yourself off with a nervous laugh, the sense of warmth you originally felt quickly morphed into embarrassment, “I don’t have anything else to wear.”
“No?”
For a split second, his voice drops. Even if it’s just for a moment, it doesn't fail to leave you a bit unsettled given his history of losing his mind whenever things didn’t go his way.
“N-no, Sir,” you shrink in your seat, “I’ll have to wait until my next payday to go shopping.”
“I see.” His lips curl back into a smile after realizing he’s going to scare you off, as that wasn’t his intention here. He looks at the door real quick, then back at you. “How about this, then— you remember that department store I had you pick up a suit from once, Damian’s?”
Your eyes widen once you realize where he’s going with this. “Oh! I don’t think that’s n—”
He plants his elbows on top of the desk, leaning forward and cutting you off with the simple, yet powerful act of clearing his throat.
“Why don’t you give them a visit this weekend, yeah?” He pauses for a moment, as if he were daring you to interrupt him again. You don’t. He laughs. “Yeah— why don’t you give them a visit. I’ll reach out before the day ends so they know to expect you. Better yet, I’ll tell them exactly what I’m looking for and have them pull whatever pieces fit the idea I have in mind, that way you won’t have to think too much into it.”
“But Mr. Gojo, I can’t afford that,” your voice nearly breaks telling him that.
Satoru doesn’t even know why you bothered telling him— he already knows. If you haven’t already forgotten, he’s the one that pays you. How hard is it to get you to stop dressing like a fucking nun? He’s had it with the god damn turtlenecks.
He lets out a sigh, fighting to keep his cool demeanor despite his dwindling patience. “Which is why I’m sending you to Damian’s, they have my card ready to go on file.”
The wheels in your head continue to turn, wondering why he’d even offer you this much. Wondering if this is even appropriate. It’s been over three months since you started working for him and not once have you heard of an allowance meant for office attire. Now he’s sending you to some high-end department store to pick out new clothes, on his dime, since your clothes don’t ‘fit your stature’. Whatever the hell that means.
“I don’t think I can accept this…” you look down at your feet and murmur, and Satoru nearly rolls his eyes.
You can and you will.
Satoru watches you freeze and realizes he just said that outloud, making him let out a laugh in an attempt to make himself sound less crazy.
“Ahem— sorry, what I meant was…” he stalls, leg lightly bouncing as he thinks of what to say, then decides to make this a company thing, rather than a him thing, “if the company’s requiring it, then the company should pay for it, right?”
His words disarm you enough to nod. “...Right.”
“Perfect,” he chirps out. “That’ll be your assignment for the weekend then.” He leans back in his seat, looking quite pleased with himself. Looking at the clock, he notices it’s a quarter to five, and takes the opportunity to kick you out of his office before the air between you grows awkward again. “Well, now that it’s settled, why don’t you wrap up for the day?”
You glance at the clock. “Uhhh… yeah, sure! Was there anything else you needed before I clock out?”
There was a lot that Satoru needed, like for you to stop sounding so eager when asking if he needed anything else from you. You have no idea how painfully hard that makes him.
“No, thanks,” he responds in a strained tone. “Enjoy your weekend.”
“Thanks! You as well, Mr. Gojo.”
You give him one last smile as you rise from your seat and begin to walk back to your desk that’s just outside his office. It’s not until your hands on the doorknob, ready to turn it, when he stops you one last time.
You brace yourself the moment you meet an unfamiliar pair of eyes, just glimmering with amusement. Satoru then proceeds to throw you off in a way that almost feels ceremonious with how he never quite gave you the chance to get back up.
“I know it’s just a little favor, but you know how people can be sometimes. So for both of our sakes, let’s just keep this between us to avoid any confusion, yeah? It can be our little secret.”
Something in that low, velvety voice of his told you it was just the beginning of many secrets you’d be sharing, but it still managed to lure you in.
And so, you said yes— marking the very beginning of something that was just as confusing as it was thrilling.
. . . . . .
Being a man of his stature, Satoru has to really watch himself in public— watch what he says, who he says it to, what he does, and where he does it. Which is why he frequents places the public didn’t have knowledge of, let alone have access too. Places that allowed him to let loose.
Though, in your honest opinion, just because someone can let loose, doesn’t mean they should. Especially someone like Satoru, who does a shit ton of coke and treats it like a fucking free for all.
His idea of a good time is often a violent one. You wish you were kidding, there’s nothing that gets him going more than being in the middle of an all out brawl— just grinning from ear to ear while drinks and punches get thrown in every which direction as music continues to blast in the background.
The first to call you is his driver Ijichi, who’s aware that your job consists of tasks that went way beyond the professional scope.
The next is the county jail, because you are Satoru’s emergency contact.
An hour later, you’re patching your boss up in the middle of his penthouse at 3:00 A.M, when you should be asleep like most people are on this side of the world.
“Sorry you got ripped out of your sleep for this,” he boyishly mutters as you dab the corner of his mouth with antiseptic. Lucky for him, the cut’s small, and should be gone by Monday morning. It’s his knuckles that are all scraped up. But then again, he doesn’t interact with many people at the office to begin with, and the ones that do get paid enough not to ask.
“Are you actually sorry, or are you just saying that?” you murmur back.
“Let’s just say I’m grateful that it's you that’s cleaning me up right now.”
“As opposed to who?”
“I dunno,” he chuckles, looking at you through heavy lidded eyes that you refuse to meet. “Don’t even wanna think about anybody else’s fingers on me.”
“How sweet,” you boredly say, dabbing a bit of ointment on the small cut. “Maybe you can extend that kindness to everyone else for the rest of this weekend? So I don’t have to, you know— pick you up from jail… again.”
“What if I only like being sweet to you?” he murmurs.
He doesn’t make you feel special anymore.
For how close of a proximity you have to the man’s personal life, you already are special, and it’s something he constantly reminds you of, even during times it’s not necessary. In the midst of all the confusion it leaves you with, you’re reminded of a line that’s been completely blurred, and you’re not quite sure who’s at fault here.
Satoru may be pervasive by nature, but you’re still here. Somehow there’s still a part of you that wants to please him despite all your irritation.
“Well then everyone’s out of luck and I’m out of sleep.” You sigh as you close the first-aid kit.
He watches as you get up from the couch to put it back in the cabinet, eyes tracing over your body throughout the entirety of it. You may not be in the tight skirts and high heels he has you in during the day, but he found himself enjoying off-duty sweats and slippers just as much. Shamelessly, he doesn’t take his eyes off you when you start walking back towards him, but you’re used to it at this point.
“Y’know you can spend the night here if you’re so tired, right?” he teasingly asks, but you know there’s a part of him that’s more than serious about it.
“No thank you.” You throw your purse over your shoulder, typing away at your phone as you try to book an uber. “I’m sure your silk sheets are great, but they’re no match for mine.”
To no one's surprise, you got out of his penthouse fast. You’ve gotten pretty good at dodging him in situations that could easily end with you on your back, splayed out right underneath him.
Believe it or not, he actually respects that— the self control and all. Especially with the way you’ve almost given in to him a couple times. It didn’t need to be said for him to know. He’s seen the needy, defeated look in your eyes during the times he’s gotten too close. It’s a look that screams ‘get away from me before I do something stupid, please’. A sweet girl you are, really.
But what would happen if he kept going and finally closed that distance?
Sometimes, he thinks he’d be nice to you. Be all soft, put you on his lap, whisper sweet things in your ear while his hand slowly slid down your stomach. You’d begin to hold your breath the moment he went past your waist and it’d finally catch once his fingers found themselves in between your thighs, slipping right in between your folds.
He’d kiss on your neck, pull moans from you as he drew little circles over your clit, making your legs tremble once he finally slipped inside and started curling in.
Then there’s times he thinks he’d be rough with you. Make you start crying from how fast and hard he made you cum from just his fingers alone. Bend you over the nearest surface and tease you with the thick head of his cock, rubbing it over your slick folds until you beg him to put it in.
He’d pull your hair back, make you look him in the eyes while he fucked you senseless, pump you full of so much cum that it’d continued to leak out of your poor pussy the very next day.
Bonus points if you two had to work together that day.
But for now, a man could only dream, or rather imagine, as he starts to fist his cock to the thought of you for who knows how many times now.
. . . . . .
There’s something mildly embarrassing about going to Damian’s with Satoru after being sent here all those months back to pick out new work clothes. Only because he specifically told the stylist to only pull items that were tight fitting and showed a decent amount of cleavage.
You’re sure if that asshole hadn't done that, you would’ve walked into the department store without a second thought. As if it couldn't have gotten any worse, that same stylist is here, and she’s looking at you with the same amount of concern you’d give to someone who’s being put through the ringer from extreme work conditions.
You technically are, given all the extra shit he has you do, like picking him up from jail at 2:00 A.M. You’re not exactly planning on leaving anytime soon, though. Don’t ask why. You’re not so sure of it yourself, either.
Satoru was here to try on a few different suits that just came in. And you’re here because unless you’re working on anything that’s considered incredibly important, you go wherever he goes.
Just as he was able to go off to the fitting room, the poor stylist asked a question she really shouldn’t have asked. She had good intentions when asking if you wanted to see some of the new pieces they had for Spring, and then Satoru made some comment about grabbing whatever you wanted and putting it on his card.
And then this poor girl looks at him with all the confidence in the world and asks, “If you’d like, I can pull a few different pieces from the racks like last time— tight fitting, low cuts, and neutrals, right?”
You didn’t have much of a reaction upon hearing that, it was already clear he had requested those things the last time you came here.
Satoru, however, just stood there and stared at this girl as if she had just ruined his fucking life.
It is not often he's left so appalled that it’s rendered him speechless, but there he was just staring at her with nothing but anger and betrayal in his eyes. She looked like she wanted to cry, and rightfully so. You were honestly scared for her.
“I think that’d be great,” you cut in, trying to break the tension, only to feel Satoru’s nasty glare get directed towards you instead once he realized you were trying to save her. “We’re here for less than an hour, though, so maybe just pull some skirts since the weather's starting to warm up.”
“Y-yeah! Of course.”
You watched as she quickly scurried away, then turned to find your boss just now deciding to follow the tailor, still looking absolutely fucking pissed that she just outed him like that.
Maybe you should tell her to hide once she comes back with those skirts.
. . .
Satoru might not be one to talk right now given how his goal a few months back was to get you to start dressing just a tad bit sluttier while still looking appropriate enough for work, but he didn’t give a shit. That woman had no tact whatsoever.
Who says something like that? You’re clearly his fucking assistant, there was no need to out his preferences like that.
It fucked up his entire mood for the hour… not that it stopped him from going ahead and having all the suits he tried on sent to his house. But just as he was getting ready to let it go, he saw something else that managed to make him do a double take.
It’s exactly what you think it is. Which is why he’s walking straight towards you and whoever the hell you’re talking to.
You didn’t know Rei existed up until two minutes ago, and tried to do him the favor of wrapping up the small conversation he tried sparking up with you once you caught a glimpse of a certain someone walking your way.
It didn’t work and now Satoru’s standing in front of you two, making you brace yourself for whatever sequence of words is going to come out of his mouth since he’s already in a shitty mood from the stylist snitching on him for being a pervert.
“You can leave now. Bye,” he simply says to the man, nodding towards the exit.
There’s a moment of silence. His reaction wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, but it still adds weight to the air around you. Rei was understandably left scrambling, not that Satoru noticed, he was too busy looking at you like he was tired of you disappointing him.
And your eyes widened, as if you were asking him, what the fuck did I do?
“Excuse me?” Rei finally managed to ask.
The displeased look on Satoru’s face stays as he briefly turns his attention to Rei. “You’re excused. Goodbye,” he says, casually dismissing him again.
“I’m sorry,” the man laughs from pure disbelief, “are you her boyfriend or something? Because you could’ve just said—”
“I’m not,” Satoru cuts him off with a tone that’s still surprisingly calm.
He wouldn’t say he’s calm— disassociated is more like it. All the words Rei throws at him just swarm around his head like a bunch of little gnats, and he steadily loses his patience since he’s already told the guy to fucking leave. Eventually, he closes his eyes and lets out a long, deep sigh.
“You know what?” Satoru suddenly cuts him off and proceeds to make him an offer— one that makes your jaw drop. “If you want her number so fuckin’ bad, then fine. You can fight me for it.”
“Satoru?!” you immediately scold the man.
“What the hell is your problem, man?!” Rei says at the same time as you.
“Oh, wow.” Satoru looks at you, then points a finger at Rei. “He doesn’t even want to fight for you.”
At that point, the man storms off, muttering some stuff under his breath about people and wondering what the fuck was wrong with them, leaving you to deal with whatever sudden mood swing your boss was having today.
It didn’t just start within the last hour. This has been going on all day and started when he almost snapped at one of the interns for running into him this morning when turning a corner too fast. You don’t have much patience for him, though.
“Ijichi’s already waiting outside for us,” you casually inform him and turn your heel, taking a step forward to walk away.
“That’s it?” The lack of acknowledgment makes Satoru snap. “That’s all you have to say?”
You stop and turn again, taking a good look at Satoru as you try to come up with more to say, which is hard given how you just watched him agree to let someone have your number if they fought him.
Yet all that comes to mind are the lines that you’ve blurred with the man.
“Do you want me to walk on eggshells around you, too, just like everybody else has today?”
“...No.” It’s not much of an answer with the way he mumbled it, but at least you were able to reroute the guy.
You softly sigh. “Alright, then… let’s go.”
. . . . .
The air’s been stale between you since that day.
You have no idea what’s gotten into him, neither do you want to ask. And it’s not that you don’t care— of course you do. It should've already been made clear by now that you care about Satoru more than you should.
At first, you wonder if it’s some sort of rough patch. Then you realize that isn't normal in professional relationships, leaving you with more questions than answers because nothing about your relationship is professional.
You run around all over the place for him, picking up his suits and sometimes even him at 3:00 A.M when he’s too drunk or high to drive home. As if that didn’t cross the line enough, he treats you like his friend. A really jealous friend, at that. He’ll do things like cockblock you if a man tries to talk to you when he’s around, sometimes even threatening to fight them.
It’s been three weeks of silence.
He didn’t even bother saying goodbye to you when you clocked out for the weekend yesterday. It wouldn’t have been a bad thing at all with your last boss, but something about getting just a simple hum from Satoru left you feeling stupid.
So what did change with him? It might be better if he listed all the things that didn’t.
He still jacked off with you in mind— that probably won’t ever change, at least not for a while. He still keeps an eye on you.
It sounds bad, but it’s really not.
He just has surveillance over your apartment building, not your actual apartment. He also has the security team keep an eye out whenever you walk to and from your car, before and after work. Just basic safety stuff. He might have a tracker on your car, but never looks at it.
Unless he’s drunk, but that doesn’t count in his head.
So then what changed?
Probably the new sense of shame that only seems to unveil itself when you’re around. He’d rather you not have a front row seat when it comes to all of his less… desirable qualities anymore. He is far from perfect— very fucking far from it.
Was it too late for that?
Probably.
It still made him feel just a little bit better about himself, even though he’s been rotting away on the inside from keeping his distance.
. . . . . .
Staying late at the office is a rare but unavoidable occurrence.
It happens. Some work gets prioritized over others, leaving small tasks to multiply and pile up. Today is one of those days Satoru is forced to push a main project aside and tackle all the little ones.
He considered taking on all of it by himself, but was reminded why he avoided the work in the first place just an hour into his day. It was all so boring and tedious. It would’ve driven him up the wall had he not handed off a portion of it to you.
But even then, there were a couple moments he spent wallowing in self-pity, looking out the window with thoughts of throwing himself off the top floor of the high rise. He fucking hates this and hates how he has no one but himself to blame for all the procrastination he’s done.
The office feels like a different world once everyone’s gone. It may feel comfortable for your boss since he has his own office, but your desk right outside of it gives you a front row seat to a corporate wasteland. Muffled chatter gets replaced with the sounds of the fluorescent lights buzzing above you. Air vents thrumming as they recirculate the cold, stale air.
The clock says 8:48 p.m once you finally finish your last task of the day. As happy as you are to finally leave this place, you grow nervous at the thought of entering your boss’s office to let him know you’re finished and heading home. Whatever camaraderie you had with him is non-existent at this point. Everything with him just feels awkward now and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you haven’t already started looking for new positions.
You lightly knock on the door leading to his office and don’t enter until you hear a tired hum on the other side of it.
Aside from the lamps next to his desk and next to the sofa you see when you first walk in, every other light is off, allowing the moonlight to peek through the dim space. It’s actually quite peaceful with his view of the city’s lit up skyline.
Satoru's eyes must hurt. He has his reading glasses on, framing the tired lines and dark circles under them.
“I’m all done for the day,” you say, carrying a stack of papers as you walk up to him and setting them down on the oak wood desk he’s half leaning on.
He doesn’t look at you.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, sounding just as drained as he looks.
You stand there, waiting for him to say anything else before coming to the conclusion that maybe it was time to move on to a new company, because you are too far gone.
Stupid.
The long day you two have had wasn’t a reason to think he’d give you more than he has lately, let alone something to get your hopes up over.
Just standing in front of him makes you feel pathetic— you shouldn’t feel like that.
You open your mouth to say goodbye for the night, since he won’t, but instead say something entirely different that leaves even you shocked.
“I’m putting in my two weeks.”
You haven’t even sent out any applications.
Satoru’s eyes darted up at you while staying in place. “What?”
Despite not having the right, he did not fucking like that. The cold tone of his voice made you want to cower down and take your words back, but there was no turning back.
You push through the nerves as you repeat yourself in a professional manner. “After some consideration, I’ve decided I want to take my career in a different direction and that would require me to step down from my position.”
The overly corporate tone does nothing but put a glare on Satoru’s face, one that deepens as you continue to spew, what he considers, a bunch of bullshit from your mouth.
“I’d like to thank you for the opportunities the company has given me, of course. I’d be more than happy to train my replacement.”
“You’re not training anybody,” he scoffs, standing from his seat as he starts to go through literally every stage of grief. “What the fuck? No? No. You’re not fucking leaving— absolutely not. Fuck that.”
Your eyes widen in disbelief over how entitled he is. He’s been treating you like a second class citizen for weeks and now he’s not letting you leave? “That’s not your choice to make.”
“I don’t care,” he says delusionally. “You’re not fucking leaving.”
“Yes I am.” You raise your tone. “You can’t just fucking keep me here—“
“Where are you going then, huh? Since you seem to have found a place so much better,” his immaturity inevitably shines through as he cuts you off.
“That’s none of your business!”
“It’s not, but you owe me that much,” he begins to argue.
Your face twists in disgust. “I don’t owe you anything. I— how can someone be this selfish?! You’ve been giving me the cold-shoulder for weeks—“
He cuts you off again. “So that’s what this is about?!”
For someone that’s been ignoring you for weeks, he’s very expressive, especially when he argues. His pupils will be blown out, he’ll look at you in disgust, talk with his hands, pace around the room, then get in your face. This time is no different.
“You’re leaving ‘cause I won’t give you attention? I thought you didn’t fucking want that!” He throws his arms out, voice resounding through the room.
You pause, mouthing a ‘what?’ to yourself in complete disbelief. Leaving someone angry and confused is one impressive skill— Satoru has clearly mastered it.
“When have I ever said that?!”
“It was written all over your face!” He shouts back, almost as if it was something that hurt him. “I figured you were getting tired of me so I backed off!”
“Seriously? That’s your definition of backing off?” You have to stop yourself from laughing at how ridiculous it sounds. “Backing off is stopping the 1:00 am calls on the weekend— not completely disregarding me.”
“I went back to being your boss—“
“Yeah, a really shitty one.”
“I was always a shitty one.” He barks out a laugh. “The only reason why you’re mad now is because you’re not getting anything out of it anymore.”
Satoru doesn’t mean that.
Not that you’d know.
He tends to reject anything that brings him even just the slightest bit of discomfort, all while hating rejection himself. Watching you try to quit has made it one hell of a combo for him.
If he was just someone you simply had to tolerate, then whatever you gained from it was not worth your time. But he spoke with enough conviction to render whatever response you had useless.
“How the hell do you expect me to stay after saying that?” you genuinely ask. “I’m tired of not being treated like real person and now you’re being a fucking asshole.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I—“
“No. Save it,” you say in defeat as you start to walk away.
“Where are you going?” he asks, still having the audacity to sound irritated.
“Leaving— have fun finding a new replacement. I’m not staying for another two weeks.”
He lets out a bitter laugh. “Well if you’re not coming back would you at least finally admit you felt something between us?”
You stop and let out a sigh. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” he says, taking a couple steps towards you.
“No, there wasn’t.”
“Alright,” he huffs out a laugh. “I get that you’re mad at me and everything, but there’s no point lying about now.”
“I’m not lying about anything.”
“I don’t believe you,” he blandly says. “You wouldn’t have stayed as long as you did if there was never anything there. Be honest with yourself for once.”
Just as you’re about to deny it for the third time, you hesitate. “Just forget it already.”
The sight of you walking away for the second time feels entirely different from the first time for Satoru. No more confusion or panic, all that’s left is certainty. Perhaps a little amusement, as well. “No. I don’t think I will, actually.”
It happens fast.
You hardly process being spun back around, then you’re stunned again by a pair of lips crashing into yours. It’s messy from the start and he’s breathlessly apologizing against you with each rough kiss.
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t mean that. Please.
And you forgive him, because there’s really no point in lying anymore. Not when you’re kissing him back. Desperately, at that— filled with just as much need. His hands start to roam, clothes start to scatter, leaving a trail that leads in the direction he took you in.
He always thought he’d put you on the desk.
The couch shifts erratically, moans pour into the room with each thrust. Satoru’s pressing down on your back and deepening the arch he put you in, bottoming out over and over again.
“Good job, baby,” he drones, mesmerized at the sight of you helplessly stretched around his thick cock, covering it in a thick coat of your slick.
It took some working up to. The moment he sat you down on the couch, he buried his head in between your thighs and tongued your clit— dragging it over that sensitive little bundle of nerves until you couldn’t see straight. Then it was his fingers. Working not one, but two of his long digits into your cunt, curling them into a little spot that had you gushing all over him.
Now he’s fucking that same little spot to no mercy, making your toes curl as the thick head of his cock catches it. “Oh my g-god— Satoru– fuuck!”
“Mmm I know,” he grabs your hair and pulls you back up against his chest, not letting up as he gets right in your ear. “Say my name again.”
His balls slap against your clit with each thrust, leaving you a gasping mess. “S-Satoru.”
“Again.”
“Satoru!” you cry out.
“Sounds so fuckin’ pretty coming from you,” he hums, licking a stripe up your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “You like getting ruined on the couch like this?”
Shamelessly, you nod. “Mhm.”
“Yeah? You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?”
“I have,” you admit. “A lot.”
“So honest tonight,” he grins, “so have I— thought about kissing you, fucking you, putting a baby in you.” A hand snakes down your belly until his fingers reach your clit, drawing little circles. “You really wouldn’t be able to get away from me then, huh?”
“That’s fucking insane,” your attempt to complain dies out into another pathetic moan.
“I fucking know,” he laughs, pulling your hair back even more so you can look him right in the eye while he fucks himself even deeper into you. “I think you might like that though since you’re squeezing around me like crazy.”
And you have no idea how to respond to that, you’re so fucking close. It’s taking everything in you to hold yourself together while he just tears you apart with each snap of his hips, rubbing fast circles over your clit.
“How bad do you wanna cum again?”
It’s been three times already, each time harder than the last. Your own body betrays yourself when you answer his question. “So bad.”
He hums sympathetically, though the look in his eyes seems to be the complete opposite of that. He keeps the same dizzying pace, pushing you further and further to edge until you’re finally gushing around him, again. He watches as tears of pure pleasure start rolling down your cheeks, trembling and letting out choked moans as he continues fucking you into overstimulation.
“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, letting go of your hair and wrapping his arms around your waist, keeping your back flush against his chest while he starts chasing against his own release. “M’so fuckin’ close. You’re gonna take it all, right?”
“Yeah,” you weakly nod, nails digging into his forearms, steadying yourself as best as you can.
“Shit— good girl,” he exhales, snapping his hips against your ass even harder, thrusts growing sloppier. “Here we go.”
The groans that spill out of Satoru are just downright sinful. There’s nothing but desperation in his tone as he holds on tight and starts pumping you full of his cum, shuddering as you milk his cock for all that he has.
You’re spent by the time you come back to your senses, with his arms being the only thing keeping you up. And yet, as you lay limp in his hold, he says something that, at the time, sounded like a threat with how entranced he seemed.
“Don’t think I’m done with you yet, princess.”
—
It’d been months since the night he finally broke his silence with you.
No, you don’t work for him anymore. You quickly found a new job just three weeks later. One with better pay and normal hours. Easier, too.
Looking back, he truly was a shitty boss. A conniving one that always took up your time. You guess you just never saw it because a part of you always liked it— better yet, liked him.
Good thing he’s a better boyfriend than he is a boss.
You were reluctant to start a relationship with him at first, the thought of him taking up even more space into your life lingering in the back of your mind and threatening whatever little peace you had left. But surprisingly, he went from being a conspiring little bastard to…
“I just have one request tonight.”
You’re in the middle of doing your makeup when his sudden presence pulls your attention away from it. You look at a slightly reluctant Satoru through the vanity mirror, raising a brow and waiting to hear what exactly that request is for tonight.
“Can you wear something that shows your tits more?” Immediately you scoff, and he’s quick to defend himself. “What?! It’s our anniversary!”
You’ve been with him for an entire year now, and he just seems to grow more and more pathetic as the time passes. He’s in nothing but boxers, begging you to show off some cleavage, for fucks sake.
“You see my tits every night,” you scold him.
“And I want to see them some more tonight, too.”
You scoff. “Sato—“
“Please,” he cuts you off with a beg. There’s a bit of a stare off shortly after, with him looking at you like some lost puppy and you inevitably give in, like you always do. He’s hard to say no to when he gets like this.
“Fine.”
He smiles and walks up to you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss, careful not to mess with your lip liner. “Love you.”
“I love you, too,” you softly say, before barely scolding him again. “Now go put your suit on, you’re the one that said the driver was gonna be here soon.”
“Yeah, whatever— he can wait,” he waves a hand, lazily walking up to the sea of suits he has in your shared closet.
“Hey, Satoru?”
“Hm?”
“If we’re even one minute late, I’m putting on a fucking turtleneck.”
osamu notices you're having an off day and wants nothing more than to comfort you. the only problem? you're both chaperoning the kindergarten field trip.
part eight of the after school series, a friends-to-lovers AU featuring you, osamu, and the relationship you build solo-parenting two girls in the same kindergarten class.
Her name was Itoga Kohana. Twenty-six. Creative strategist at a Top Five advertising agency. (You didn't even know what creative strategists did.) Her Instagram was flooded with vacation photos of your ex-fiancé and her perfect, well-styled family, and she was gorgeous.
It had only been a week since Jun invited you to his wedding. Asked you — no, insisted — that Misa be his flower girl for the ceremony. Since then, you'd carefully placed his save-the-date in a kitchen drawer. Created a Google calendar notification for May the ninth of next year. Not that you'd made your decision just yet.
"Think on it," Jun said, plopping his platinum card onto the leather check presenter after the waiter had taken your plates. "Hana and I couldn't think of anyone better to do it, but she insists on having your blessing first."
As if you could ever give your blessing to a person you'd never met. To your infuriating ex-fiancé, who would probably make a LinkedIn post about this later that week. I had a tough conversation with a person from my past. Here's what it taught me about B2B sales...
If you had the luxury of being selfish, you would put your foot down and say no. After all, the entire idea of Misa as Jun's flower girl was rich. Performative. A complete ruse that painted Jun as the present, loving father he never cared to be.
But this was Misa you were talking about. The girl whose eyes lit up whenever her father entered the room. The girl who still included him in family drawings, albeit on an airplane beside her butter yellow sun. She didn't know Jun's absence wasn't right. If anything, she saw him as a superhero, squeezing in time to see her whenever he wasn't out saving the world.
It was sweet at times. Heart-breaking at others. You wanted nothing more than to preserve Misa's reality for as long as possible. Or at least until she was old enough to hold the truth about her father without completely crumbling beneath it.
But that was a problem for later you.
“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” Osamu murmured. He pressed a warm thermos of coffee to your cheek, startling you from your thoughts. “Ya ready for today?”
“Hm?” You blinked back at his concerned expression. Felt your eyes wander to the plaid flannel that stretched across his forearms, his chest. “Oh, yeah.”
He frowned. “Ya look like ya haven’t slept a wink.”
“Yeah, well…” You scratched your scalp. Awkwardly accepted the thermos. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Yeah? Wanna talk about it?”
“What? Here?” You gestured to the chilly parking lot. The eighteen squirmy kindergarteners waiting to be let on the school bus. “Miss Yuki will be back any second.”
“Miss Yuki is currently hunting down the custodian to unclog the toilet in her classroom,” Osamu chuckled. “I think we got time.”
You folded your arms across your chest. Took a sip of the coffee Osamu had prepared. Two creamers and one Stevia, just how you liked it.
"Fine," you grumbled, lowering your voice so no one else could hear. "It's Misa's father."
"Oh?" Osamu nodded, feigning ignorance as best he could.
You frowned. “Please don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you didn’t already meet him!” you hissed. You averted your gaze, a blush rising into your cheeks. "Go ahead, judge all you want."
"No, no! He looked...smart. Accomplished."
"He's fake and conniving, is what he is," you sighed. "Anyway, he just asked me something super insensitive, but I don't think I'm entirely in a position to say no."
“Why are you sorry? You’re not the one who asked me."
You squirmed beneath Osamu's gaze, then — that grey, glassy-eyed stare he'd give you whenever you confessed to skipping lunch or working late nights. He looked at you like one might an elderly person. Or a malnourished cat.
Either way, you were relieved to hear the sound of Miss Yuki's orthopedic shoes smacking against the loose gravel not a moment later.
"Alright!" your daughter's teacher chirped — hair frazzled. Sweater slightly askew. "Fortunately for us, an entire roll of toilet paper is no match for me and Mr. Watanabe. Unfortunately for us, we're running about twenty minutes behind."
She smacked a stack of name tags, Sharpie pens, and a seating chart into your and Osamu's hands.
"I need to grab the first aid bag from the front office before we go," she said. "You know what to do!"
You and Osamu busied yourself for the next half hour — wrangling girls into seats, sticking name tags onto polo shirts. (You had to peel Kina's off her forehead at least twice.) By the time Miss Yuki had returned, you both had resigned yourselves to your own assigned seating. You in the front. Osamu in the very back.
You okay? he mouthed when you spared a glance over your shoulder.
You gave him a bleak thumbs up before collapsing into your seat, the sound of high-pitched laughter reverberating in your ears as the bus lurched into motion.
As childish as it was, you almost wished you were sitting next to him.
Osamu had never been to the sculpture garden before. Just thirty minutes outside the city, the fourteen-acre property was home to twenty outdoor art installations, a two-story villa for rotating exhibits, and a koi pond teeming with peacocks. (Misa nearly ripped his arm off when one approached her in the parking lot.)
It was quaint. Quirky. The perfect outdoor wedding venue, according to their tour guide. Not like he was paying much attention, anyway.
The class had split up thirty minutes ago for a guided tour of the premises — and while he'd more or less expected to be separated from you, he couldn't help the uneasiness now seeping into his stomach. Just what exactly had Jun asked of you? And why weren’t you in a position to say no?
He knew he had no right to ask. Knew you, of all people, were capable of handling conniving men on your own. But that didn't mean you had to.
"Osamu-san," Misa murmured, trailing behind the rest of their assigned group.
She tugged on his flannel with a bunched fist and pointed at an art installation just beyond the trees. "Can you take a picture of me and Miffy-san?"
He trained his phone camera on your daughter's sun-warmed face, felt a chuckle rumble from his chest as she stood beside the ten-foot-tall bunny sculpture like a soldier recruited for battle.
"Don't worry," Misa said when she caught him staring at the photo a little too wistfully. "We'll be back with mommy soon."
At that, Osamu’s face turned beet red.
"Yeah?" he chuckled, pocketing his phone. Playing it off. "I just hope Kina ain't givin' her a hard time."
Misa merely hummed. As if she couldn’t reassure him on that one.
The entire class reunited for lunch outside the villa — picnic blankets sprawled across the grass, the smell of katsu sandwiches, ketchup, and cold milk thick in the air. He spotted you handing out bagged lunches from a soft cooler hung over your shoulder, and something in his chest shifted when your eyes caught his across the lawn.
“How’d it go?” he asked as you approached.
“Good! Nobody got lost, and Kina only serenaded the group twice." You frowned. "She knows a surprising amount of Kendrick Lamar, though."
"Are ya serious?"
"Don't worry. I don't think she actually knows any of the words."
"I told Atsumu to stop listenin' to his game day playlist in front of her..."
You smiled at him for a half-second. "Well, if you're not sitting with anyone for lunch..."
"Daddy!" Kina interjected, voice barreling across the lawn. She waved him over from the picnic blanket she was sharing with another girl from her group. Yuta. Or was it Yui? "We saved you a spot!”
"Go," you reassured Osamu with a laugh, sweeping your gaze across the lawn. "I’m gonna find my own spawn. I'll...I'll catch up with you later?"
At a ripe twenty-eight years-old, Osamu had never felt more childish as he accepted a bagged lunch from you, stalked across the grass, and plopped himself down on the blanket next to Kina.
He was halfway through his pork katsu sandwich when Yui (he'd read her name tag) asked, "So is Y/N-san, like, your girlfriend or something?"
"What?" he balked around a mouthful of food. He reached for a paper napkin and swiped the corner of his mouth. "What makes ya think that?"
The child shrugged. "You look at her like my dad looks at wagyu beef."
"You're so silly, Yui," Kina giggled into her sandwich. "My daddy doesn't have a girlfriend."
She met her father's eyes, then. Noticed the way they drifted to your and Misa's picnic blanket across the lawn.
"See? There it is again!" Yui cried.
"Oh my gosh," Kina said, wide-eyed. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No!"
"Oh." She sagged her shoulders. Took another bite of her sandwich. "Well, maybe you should."
They continued to giggle about his lack of a love life for what felt like ages. Osamu's face didn't return to its normal color until lunch was well over.
The field trip concluded with a free-draw period by the koi pond. Students were given a sketchbook and pencil and told to recreate whatever they wanted, provided they didn't disturb any of the animals. ("We do not touch the peacocks. Okay? We respect the peacocks' boundaries.") The energy of the group had since taken a dip — some girls crouched protectively over their drawings, others still circled the pond in search of inspiration. It was nice. Tranquil, even.
"Why don't you two take a break?" Miss Yuki suggested. "There's a walking trail not too far from here. I hear it's beautiful this time of year."
"Are you sure?" you asked, eyes flitting toward the pond. You half-expected a child to tumble in at any second.
"I'm sure," your daughter's teacher reassured you with a smile, practically ushering you and Osamu in the direction of the trailhead. "Just don't wander too far!"
The warm buzz of cicadas now filled your ears as you walked side-by-side with Osamu — the sun hitting you sporadically through the trees, the crunch of gravel sharp beneath your feet. You'd subconsciously hoped for a moment alone with him the entire day, but now that you had it, you didn't quite know what to say.
"You know, I never got the chance to — "
"So how was the rest of yer — ?"
You both clamped your mouths shut. Exchanged shy, sheepish smiles flanked by matching pink expressions.
"You first," Osamu insisted.
"I was just going to thank you for making me coffee this morning," you said. "I got pretty crap sleep last night, so..."
"Yeah?"
You nodded. "What with work and Misa's father coming into town, it's just...it's been hard to fall asleep."
You began to feel it, then. The dull circles pooling beneath your eyes, your unwashed hair clinging to your face. Even your usual button-up shirt seemed a little more wrinkled than usual.
"Ya can always call me, ya know," Osamu murmured. "If yer goin' through somethin'. Ya don't need to wait until ya see me."
"I know." You nodded, painfully aware of how guarded you were and how wonderful he was. You just couldn't find the right words to tell him. Didn't know if they existed anywhere beyond the deep, gaping void in your chest. "I will."
Farther along the trail, a bridal party stood taking photographs amid the trees. It was a small group — you could count on one hand the amount of bridesmaids and groomsmen, and they were all dressed in the same sage-green satin.
"Did I ever tell you that Jun and I were engaged?"
Osamu blinked back at the question. The sudden force in which you'd asked it.
"No."
"It wasn't for very long," you added quickly. "I actually think it lasted about nineteen days."
Your eyes drifted to the happy couple. The untouched joy in their expressions, the way their shoulders shook in nervous, pre-ceremony jitters.
"He came into town to tell me he was engaged to someone else," you said suddenly. "And to ask if Misa would be his flower girl."
Osamu stopped walking. You followed suit. His eyes — sharper than you'd expected — bore into yours.
"Ya serious?"
You nodded. His shoulders sank.
"Shit, Y/N." He ran a hand down his face. "How long have ya been holdin' that in?"
"I dunno." You shrugged. It didn't stop your expression from crumbling. The tears from prickling the corners of your eyes. "About a week?"
Osamu didn't hesitate. Simply grabbed your wrist, pulled you flush against his chest, and held you. You squeezed your eyes shut as an onslaught of tears threatened to ruin your mascara, and your whole body tensed as the scent of Osamu's detergent fried your every nerve.
"I don't know why I'm crying," you scoffed, clenching your jaw in protest. "I'm over him."
"I know."
"For fuck's sake, I don't even like him. He just..." You shuddered, hot tears dribbling down your face and onto Osamu's shirt. "He shows up whenever he wants. Leaves at a moment’s notice. He gets to decide that now's a good time to get his act together, and I..."
"...don't?" Osamu guessed after a while.
A weak laugh slipped past your lips.
"I don't regret having Misa." You buried your face into his shoulder. Relaxed ever-so-slightly into him. "And I love the life we've built together. I just...I wish I wasn't the only one who had to take responsibility for it, you know?"
"Yeah," Osamu exhaled. He pressed his cheek against the top of your head and frowned. "Yeah. I understand ya completely."
You stayed like that for a while. Osamu's arms holding you firmly in place. The sounds of laughter and camera shutters lifting your spirits slightly.
He was warmer than you expected. Like a patch of sun on a cloudy day.
"Have ya told Misa yet?" Osamu asked once you'd stopped crying.
"No," you muttered. "I'm afraid her excitement might blind me."
"Yeah..." Osamu's chuckle rumbled through your whole body. "She was so happy to see him the other day. I'll give him that."
"I know," you groaned. "God, what am I going to do?"
"Well, whatever you decide," he murmured, hands rubbing gentle circles into your back. "I'll be here for ya."
"...thank you," you breathed. You pulled away from Osamu's arms. Gestured miserably toward your swollen face. "Does my mascara look bad?"
You tried not to squirm as his calloused hands cupped either side of your face, thumbs swiping firmly beneath your eyes.
"Crap," he admitted after a moment. "I think I'm makin' it worse."
"Forget about it," you told him, a shaky laugh working its way out of your chest. "Just walk with me."
You continued hiking side-by-side toward the end of the trail. Congratulated the newlyweds as you overtook them. When a lone peacock wobbled onto the path beside you, you nearly ripped Osamu's arm off in terror.
The whole situation was absurd. Hilarious, too, if you weren't so goddamn petrified. Distracting enough to make you forget about fiancés and flower girls and seemingly incurable fatigue. If only for a moment.
And right now? You'd take any of those moments you could get.
dating iwaizumi hajime has turned into a full, chaotic, and perfect marriage—he’s 31 now, terrifyingly strict with the national volleyball team, and yet the most tender, doting husband at home. you’ve built a life together with a three-year-old daughter who keeps both of you on your toes—and has made iwaizumi’s possessiveness toward you even more intense.
mornings are soft and domestic—shirtless iwaizumi flips pancakes in the kitchen while your daughter climbs onto a chair to “help,” tiny hands patting his cheek and giggles filling the room. he hums low as he works, occasionally glancing at you with a fond smile, like he can’t believe he gets to spend his life with the two of you.
the home gym has become a family space—your daughter tries to copy everything you do, stretching or folding into wobbly yoga poses while you guide her, and iwaizumi chuckles quietly from the side, proud and entertained. he gently adjusts your posture during light workouts, hands lingering a little longer than necessary, teasingly possessive under the guise of coaching.
he still never pushes you too hard—your workouts are gentle, short, and playful, mostly to keep you active and healthy. he encourages your daughter’s movement too, whispering little praises while sneaking in soft kisses or playful nudges at you. the three of you together create a cozy, loving rhythm: yoga, stretches, and giggles filling the gym.
sex now happens only when the house is empty—usually when your parents or his parents take your daughter for a day or two. when it’s just the two of you, iwaizumi is unrestrained and possessive, indulging fully in his breeding kink.
he pulls you into the gym or bedroom, pressing you down onto benches or the yoga mat, hips pressing into yours with full strength. every thrust is deliberate, deep, and overwhelming, making you gasp and tremble beneath him.
he grips your waist, lifting and adjusting you mid-thrust, murmuring filthy praises: “so tight…so wet…all mine, baby…mine to fuck.”
his hands roam across your body while he fucks you, squeezing your hips, tracing your back, and teasing your breasts, making your body arch instinctively toward him.
he loves dirty, possessive whispers while he pounds you, dragging your face to the side of his shoulder, pressing his lips to your neck, and groaning your name like it’s the only thing he wants to say.
he shows off his strength, picking you up and spinning you over onto the bed without breaking rhythm, cock still buried deep, thrusting into you with full force, hips snapping harshly against yours.
favorite position is still mating press—he folds you in half, pressing your chest to the mattress, holding your arms above your head as he drills into you, watching your toes curl, your back arch, and your lips part for him.
he loves hearing you moan around him, telling you how perfect you feel, how he can fill you so completely, and how you’re his in every way.
when he knows you’re close, he grabs your jaw or presses a hand over your chest, forcing you to meet his gaze as he murmurs, “cum on my cock, baby…only mine.”
he doesn’t let you come alone—drags it out, thrusting deep, teasing, whispering filthy praises and ownership, until your body is trembling, overstimulated, and completely his.
after he’s done, he collapses beside you, still glancing down at you with that soft, satisfied smile, brushing damp hair from your face, murmuring, “so good…so perfect…my girl…my wife…”
afterward, he cradles you like he did your daughter as a baby, kisses along your shoulders and neck, whispering soft praise while you both catch your breath.
iwaizumi balances life as a trainer, husband, and father—commanding and strict at work, playful and doting at home, and completely possessive in private moments, showing that he can be all sides of himself and make them work seamlessly together.
as a father, he’s everything you knew he would be—firm when needed, endlessly patient, and completely soft for your daughter. he melts when she runs into his arms after practice, scooping her up like she’s the only thing that matters in the world. he reads her bedtime stories in a low, soothing voice, even doing silly voices to make her giggle, and sometimes you catch him asleep beside her crib, still in his work clothes, too tired to move but unwilling to leave her side.
as a husband, he’s fiercely devoted—always making sure you feel loved, protected, and cared for. he checks in on you throughout the day with texts, sneaks you quick kisses in the kitchen while dinner cooks, and holds you close at night when exhaustion hits him hardest. no matter how stressful work gets, he never lets you doubt his love or his attention.
balancing his role as japan’s athletic trainer with family life isn’t easy, but he manages it with grit and dedication—strict, no-nonsense iwaizumi at the training facility, and gentle, soft hajime at home. he sets boundaries clearly: work stays at work, and when he steps through the door, he’s yours and your daughter’s completely.
he takes pride in being able to do it all—guiding the best athletes in the country, being the father his daughter can always run to, and the husband who never stops cherishing you.
the mix of domestic fluff with your daughter and unrestrained, filthy intimacy when alone makes life with iwaizumi full, messy, and perfect—strong, loving, tender, and completely his.
iwaizumi hajime, at 31, is proof that he can carry the weight of the world in his hands and still come home to hold his family just as carefully—balancing discipline and devotion, strength and softness, until the life you’ve built together feels unshakable.
knight!iwaizumi who knows it’s so wrong to be feeling this way, to be doing this right now…
but he just can’t bring himself to stop.
“oh, god, princess,” he groans in your ear at the drag of his thick cock in and out of your tight, sopping pussy. his hands grip your plush thighs, his lips pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your neck, careful to not leave any marks on your skin.
you gasp, chills running down your spine as his hips roll into yours at a slow, deep pace. “oh, hajime—” you whisper in his ear, your voice soft and saccharine as your lips brush against his lobe.
everything about this is so wrong. you are to marry another man—a wealthy duke—in a week’s time to fulfill your role as the nation’s princess and future queen.
and yet… your heart belongs to another.
“i love you,” you softly whine, your eyes glazed with both pained and pleasured tears.
iwaizumi’s eyes squeeze closed as he feels so damn close… “fuck, princess, i love you too—” he chokes out, “more than anything in this world…”
it seems as if the world is getting smaller, where nothing else matters besides the two of you, pretending that you are not a princess and he is not your guardsman. pretending that this illicit affair couldn’t cost iwaizumi his position and, possibly, his life. pretending that this forbidden love will not taint you—where every other experience you’ll have will just pale in comparison to the way iwaizumi makes you feel…
“hajime—!” you softly cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as everything became so damn tight. and as you fall into the throes of ecstasy, iwaizumi cannot hold himself back any longer, letting out a reserved, strangled groan as he paints your insides a creamy white.
your knight shall always be there. he has sworn an oath to the crown to protect you with his life, his entire being. and even if you must marry another man, you know the true gentleman who has your heart.
the one who holds it in his rough, calloused, armored hands.
boyfriend!iwaizumi hajime who loves it when you borrow his hoodies, then return them full of your own natural scent.
boyfriend!iwaizumi hajime who buys hoodies just so you could steal them and wear them on top of your uniform.
boyfriend!iwaizumi hajime who just grins when you borrow hoodies from him, then hands you your favorite drink or food with it.
boyfriend!iwaizumi hajime who loves it when you come to his home and away games wearing his hoodie, cheering him on as best as you could.
boyfriend!iwaizumi hajime who swore to always find you in every life time just to smell your scent on his clothes, to imagine your arms wrap around him.
boyfriend!iwaizumi hajime who purchased a gray hoodie in his size to give to you on your anniversary.
boyfriend!iwaizumi hajime who gets teased by oikawa, mattsun, and makki for being an absolute simp for you.
so who would’ve thought boyfriend!iwaizumi hajime would turn into ex!iwaizumi hajime while he hugs you tight after you wear the hoodie he gifted you, sobbing on your shoulder with you frozen in his hold.
“i’m sorry, y/n. i’ll come back for you, okay? i promise. i just can’t pass on this opportunity.. i’ll be better for both of us, i promise you.”
ex!iwaizumi hajime who kisses you for the last time, puts his cologne on his your hoodie, and swears to come back.
ex!iwaizumi hajime who couldn’t look at you as you beg him to work it out with you instead. pleading that you can take it even if he’s studying far away, he just kisses your forehead while crying.
“i’ll be back for you, my sweet girl.”
ex!iwaizumi hajime who studies hard abroad only thinking of you. he has all your photos; on his gym bag, his backpack, on his nightstand, on his desk, a poster of you and him plastered on his wall, a picture of you smiling in his wallet, and a heart locket with separate photos of you and him in it so when he closes it, you both kiss.
ex!iwaizumi hajime who always stalks your social media and smiles when he sees that you’re still rocking his hoodie, one of the strings in between your teeth as you hold a peace sign.
ex!iwaizumi hajime who always likes your photos but never texts you to keep himself strong because once he does, he’s sure he’ll go home in an instant.
ex!iwaizumi hajime who actively repelled women by showing them your photo and a ring saying he’s engaged (he bought one for him and for you, but you don’t know that yet).
ex!iwaizumi hajime who giggles like a school girl when you like his photos in social media, blush coating his cheeks.
ex!iwaizumi hajime who’s still mutuals with you on instagram just to post gym pictures on his close friends only with your account in it.
ex!iwaizumi hajime who goes back to japan once he’s finished with his studies and immediately runs to your house, not caring about the absolute motion sickness he just had.
ex!iwaizumi hajime who looks at you—who’s as gorgeous as ever and wearing his hoodie—and runs to your arms, then breaks down sobbing.
“i— oh god, you’re gorgeous. i missed you so much, so— so so much. i’m sorry i left— i— i wanted to be good for you, to be able to provide for you once were older. i couldn’t afford to go in contact with you because i knew— i knew that once i did, i’ll run back to you. i just— i love you so much, y/n. please— please take me back. i’m nothing without you.”
ex!iwaizumi hajime who relaxes once you kiss his forehead and says, “i told you i’ll support you in any decision you’d make, right, haji? that’s one of them. you’re still a cry baby for me, huh? how would tōru, mattsun, and makki react to this?” you caress his face with a teasing smile despite the tears rolling down your face.
boyfriend?iwaizumi hajime who scoffs through hiccups at your teasing, “whatever.” and before you could quip back grabs your face—oh so gently—and smashes his lips against yours.
boyfriend!iwaizumi hajime who lets out a sigh of relief between kisses as you kiss him back while he pours all his longing into you. his tongue slips in your mouth, finding yours with a little to no effort. one of his hands slowly moving to tangle his fingers through your hair to tilt your head to the side.
boyfriend!iwaizumi hajime who sheds a last tear and smiles in the kiss, pulling back just a little to say, “i love you so much. i told you i’d come back.”
you giggle, “i love you more, haji. and i told you, i’m here waiting.”
a/n: aha, i was slightly sobbing cs the song was playing..
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