♯ ⋮ 𝄞 you're clingy with them ! ༉ new gen 11 x clingy! gf reader
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ vivian hugo
ever since you and hugo started dating, everyone around him slowly realized something that was very different about him, and it wasn't even because of him.
it was because of you.
you were naturally clingy, always wanting to be somewhere close to him no matter what you were doing. if he was sitting down, you somehow ended up leaning against his shoulder without even thinking about it.
if he was standing, your fingers would quietly find the sleeve of his jacket or the back of his shirt, gently holding onto the fabric while you talked to someone else.
if he walked away for even a few seconds, you'd unconsciously follow after him like it was the most normal thing in the world. it wasn't something you forced yourself to do, and it wasn't because you couldn't be alone.
being around hugo simply made you feel calm, so your body naturally drifted toward him without you even noticing.
at first, hugo didn't really understand it. he would glance down whenever he felt the familiar little tug on his sleeve, only to find you absentmindedly standing beside him with your attention completely somewhere else.
you weren't asking him for anything. you weren't trying to interrupt him. you just liked being there.
after a while, he stopped questioning it entirely. whenever he noticed you quietly reaching for him, he'd lift his arm just enough for you to comfortably wrap yourself around it before continuing whatever conversation he had been having.
if the team was waiting between training sessions, he'd automatically leave the empty spot beside him open because he already knew where you'd end up sitting. he never teased you for it or called you needy. to him, it was simply another part of you, just like the way you smiled or laughed.
the others, however, found it impossible not to notice.
"is that…normal?" one of them quietly asked after watching you spend nearly ten minutes standing beside hugo with your hand loosely hooked around his wrist while scrolling through your phone.
"they've literally been like that all day," another answered.
"i don't even think she realizes she's doing it."
"hugo doesn't either."
except he absolutely did.
he noticed every tiny habit you had, even if he never pointed them out. he noticed how you'd sleepily reach for his hand whenever you got tired.
how you'd gently bump your shoulder against his whenever you wanted attention but were too shy to ask for it. how you'd instinctively search for him in crowded rooms before relaxing the second your eyes landed on him. they were tiny things that everyone else overlooked, but hugo remembered every single one.
after practice one evening, everyone was exhausted from training, slowly packing up their things before heading back.
hugo was sitting on one of the benches, quietly drying his hair with a towel when you wandered over without saying a word. still sleepy from waiting through the last part of practice, you simply stood between his knees before resting your forehead against the top of his head with a quiet sigh.
"…tired?" he asked.
you only hummed.
he gave a small nod like that answered everything.
without another word, he wrapped one arm around your waist to keep you steady while finishing drying his hair with the other hand. it looked so natural that nobody would've guessed he had only started doing things like this because of you.
when he finally stood up, you instinctively reached for the back of his shirt again.
he looked over his shoulder.
"…ready?"
another tiny nod.
he waited until you had a better grip before starting to walk.
the hallway was busy with players passing by, but hugo never once tried to shake your hand off his shirt or tell you to let go. instead, he slowed his pace just enough so you wouldn't have to rush after him.
"you know," one of the players muttered as they walked past, "she follows you everywhere."
hugo looked down at your fingers still curled into the fabric of his shirt before looking back up with the same calm expression he always wore.
"…i know."
"…doesn't it bother you?"
he was quiet for a second.
"…if she stopped."
his answer surprised even himself.
because somewhere along the way, the tiny weight on his sleeve, the quiet hand finding his, and the soft warmth constantly beside him had become something he looked for without realizing it.
later that night, while the two of you sat together watching a movie, you had somehow managed to end up almost completely leaning against him, one arm lazily wrapped around his while your head rested against his shoulder.
you were half asleep, barely paying attention anymore, mumbling little comments every now and then before your words slowly became quieter.
hugo looked down. "…comfortable?"
your eyes stayed closed as you smiled. "mhm…"
"…good."
he adjusted himself just enough so your neck wouldn't hurt, gently pulling a blanket over both of you without waking you. after that, he simply stayed still, even when his arm slowly started falling asleep underneath your weight. he could've moved. he probably should've.
instead, he glanced at your peaceful face resting against him and decided the numb arm was worth it.
"…sleep well," he quietly murmured, almost too soft to hear.
and although he'd never admit it out loud, the apartment always felt a little emptier whenever you weren't absentmindedly reaching for him anymore. after all, somewhere between all those little habits of yours, hugo had unknowingly grown just as attached to your quiet clinginess as you were to him.
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ michael kaiser
michael kaiser absolutely loved the fact that you were clingy, though he'd never admit just how much it fed his ego. in his mind, it simply proved what he already believed—you liked him the most, you wanted to be around him the most, and out of everyone in the room, you always found your way back to him.
no matter how many people were talking to you, how busy either of you were, or where the two of you happened to be, your body seemed to naturally gravitate toward his. if he was lounging across the couch, you'd end up curled against his side without even thinking about it.
if he leaned against a wall while waiting for something, within minutes you'd be standing beside him, your shoulder pressed against his arm or your fingers absentmindedly playing with the sleeve of his shirt.
you never seemed to realize you were doing it, but michael noticed every single time, and secretly, he looked forward to it.
unlike most people, he never found your clinginess distracting. if anything, it became something he expected. there were moments where he'd be scrolling through his phone or watching old match footage, only to feel your weight gently lean against him a few moments later.
instead of reacting, he'd instinctively shift just enough to give you more room, allowing you to settle comfortably against his chest or shoulder while continuing whatever he had been doing.
it became second nature. he no longer questioned why you always reached for him first because, somewhere along the way, he had grown used to your constant need for closeness.
whenever you weren't nearby, he'd catch himself glancing around the room before realizing you were somewhere else, and while he'd never openly admit it, the absence of your familiar warmth always made the space around him feel strangely empty.
there were times when your clinginess became almost impossible to ignore. if the two of you were relaxing together, you'd somehow manage to steal nearly all of his personal space without realizing it.
your legs would end up resting across his lap, your head tucked beneath his chin, or your arms loosely wrapped around one of his while you quietly occupied yourself with something else.
michael always acted like you were inconveniencing him, letting out dramatic sighs or rolling his eyes as though your affection was the biggest burden imaginable, yet he never once made any effort to move away.
in fact, if you shifted even slightly as if you were about to get up, he'd unconsciously adjust his position to keep you close before he even realized what he was doing.
by the time he noticed, it was already too late, leaving him to pretend it had been completely intentional all along.
he especially enjoyed how naturally you sought him out after a long day. the moment you saw him, your shoulders seemed to relax without you even noticing, and before long, you'd quietly settle beside him, leaning your weight against him as though all the exhaustion you'd been carrying could disappear simply by being close.
michael liked to tease you for it, often calling you attached or claiming you couldn't survive more than a few minutes without him, but beneath every smug remark was a quiet satisfaction he couldn't hide.
knowing that your first instinct was always to look for him, to stand beside him, or to rest against him filled him with a sense of pride that only inflated his already enormous ego.
to everyone else, it looked like harmless teasing.
only michael knew how much he genuinely enjoyed being the person you searched for without even thinking.
the people around you noticed it almost immediately. they found it amusing how someone as prideful and self-centered as michael somehow became incredibly patient whenever it involved you.
the same man who complained about people invading his personal space somehow never minded when you leaned against him for hours or absentmindedly held onto his arm while the two of you sat together. if anyone else tried that, they'd receive an irritated glare within seconds. you, however, were different.
michael rarely acknowledged it aloud, but he unconsciously adjusted everything around your habits. he'd sit in ways that gave you more room to lean against him, slow his pace whenever you naturally reached for his hand, and remain still whenever you looked comfortable enough to fall asleep beside him.
he never thought twice about making those adjustments anymore because somewhere along the line, your quiet affection had become part of his daily routine.
despite all of his confidence and endless teasing, there were moments where michael revealed just how attached he'd become in return. on the rare days when you were busy or simply spent more time with someone else, he'd notice almost immediately.
he'd tell himself it didn't matter, insisting that you were free to do whatever you wanted, yet somehow he'd always find an excuse to wander into the same room as you or insert himself into whatever you happened to be doing.
he'd never admit that he missed the familiar feeling of you leaning against his shoulder or reaching for his hand without thinking, but the second you naturally drifted back to his side again, the faint smirk that settled across his face said everything he refused to.
in the end, everyone assumed you were the clingy one in the relationship, but if anyone paid close enough attention, they'd realize michael had quietly grown just as dependent on your presence as you were on his—he was simply far too prideful to ever admit it first.
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ sae itoshi
ever since the two of you started dating, sae quickly realized that you were the kind of person who loved showing your affection through quiet closeness rather than words.
you never demanded attention or interrupted whatever he was doing, but your body always seemed to drift toward him without you even noticing. if he was sitting down watching game footage, you'd eventually wander into the room with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders before quietly settling beside him, leaning your head against his arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
if he stood in the kitchen making himself something to eat, you'd appear only moments later, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and simply standing there without saying a single thing.
there were days where neither of you exchanged more than a few words for hours, yet somehow you were always touching him in some small way, whether it was your fingers hooked around the sleeve of his shirt, your shoulder pressed against his, or your legs resting over his whenever the two of you relaxed together.
being close to him made you feel safe, and after a while, sae became so used to your quiet attachment that your absence felt stranger than your clinginess ever did.
sae himself wasn't naturally affectionate, nor was he someone who constantly sought physical contact, but he learned your habits faster than he expected. at first, he'd glance down whenever he suddenly felt your hand slip into his or your forehead rest against his shoulder, wondering if there was a reason behind it.
eventually, he realized there wasn't one. you simply liked being near him. that realization made him stop questioning it altogether. whenever you absentmindedly reached for him, his hand would already be waiting before yours could fully find it.
if you leaned against him while he was reading or watching something, he'd shift just enough to make sure you were comfortable without ever looking away from what he was doing.
even when he was focused on something important, he'd subconsciously adjust his posture so you had somewhere to rest, almost as if his body had memorized yours before his mind even registered your presence.
your clinginess also showed itself in the smallest moments throughout the day. whenever sae came home after training or traveling, you were always the first thing waiting for him.
you'd quietly make your way over the second you heard the door open, wrapping yourself around him with sleepy eyes before he even had the chance to take his shoes off. you never cared if he was tired or sweaty from practice; all you wanted was those few minutes where you could reassure yourself that he was finally home.
sae never returned your hugs with the same enthusiasm, but he also never pushed you away. instead, one hand would naturally come to rest on your back while the other gently stroked your hair a few times before he continued walking, practically carrying you through the apartment because you refused to let go.
after enough time together, he accepted that this was simply how you greeted him, and if one day you didn't come over to cling to him, he'd quietly find himself looking around the apartment, wondering where you were.
the people around sae noticed it long before either of you did.
they often found it amusing how someone so emotionally reserved ended up dating someone who practically treated him like a personal pillow.
during gatherings or visits, you'd always end up tucked against his side without thinking, your head resting on his shoulder while conversations happened around you. sometimes you'd doze off against him entirely, completely trusting that he wouldn't move until you woke up.
everyone expected sae to complain or gently move you away, but he never did.
he'd simply continue whatever he was doing with one hand resting absentmindedly on your arm, making sure you wouldn't slip off or wake yourself. the sight was so unlike the cold, distant image people had of him that it caught everyone off guard.
sae never acknowledged the stares or comments because, to him, this had quietly become normal. your constant need to be close wasn't something he tolerated anymore—it was something he unconsciously made room for, adjusting his own habits around yours until your presence became woven into every quiet part of his daily life.
there were even moments when you apologized, worried that you might be bothering him because of how often you found yourself reaching for him without thinking.
sae never understood why you worried so much. if your hand searched for his while the two of you walked together, he'd simply lace his fingers through yours. if you rested your head on him after a long day, he'd continue sitting there as though nothing had changed.
if you fell asleep leaning against his shoulder, he'd stay exactly where he was until you naturally woke up, even if his arm had gone numb long ago. he wasn't the type to shower someone with affectionate words or dramatic gestures, but his patience spoke louder than anything he could have said.
he accepted every quiet habit you had without making you feel embarrassed for them, and over time, you realized something that made your heart ache in the sweetest way possible.
you had become sae's routine just as much as he had become yours.
he would probably never admit it out loud, but on the rare occasions when you weren't there to absentmindedly cling to him, the silence around him felt just a little emptier than it used to.
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ bunny iglesias
bunny never had a problem with how clingy you were.
if anything, he found it strangely comforting. there was something about the way you always ended up beside him that made even the busiest days feel quieter.
you never asked for much—you simply liked being close. whether you were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder while doing your own things, lightly holding onto the sleeve of his jacket whenever the two of you walked together, or absentmindedly resting your head against him whenever there was a moment to slow down, your affection always came so naturally that it never felt forced.
it was simply how you loved him, and before long, it became something he couldn't imagine going without.
at first, bunny didn't really understand just how often you searched for him. he'd look up from whatever he was doing only to find you already standing nearby, quietly existing in his space without expecting a conversation.
there were moments where neither of you spoke for several minutes, yet you'd still be leaning against his shoulder or sitting close enough that your knees brushed together. eventually, he realized you weren't looking for constant attention—you were looking for comfort. being near him settled your mind, and once he understood that, he stopped questioning your little habits altogether.
instead, he'd naturally make room for you before you even asked, shifting over on the couch, slowing his pace, or leaving one side of him open because he already knew you'd end up there.
your clinginess showed itself in countless little ways throughout the day.
if bunny stood still for more than a few moments, you'd wander over almost without thinking, gently looping your arm through his or leaning against his side while your mind drifted elsewhere. whenever the two of you were relaxing together, you'd somehow find yourself pressed against him, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder while you read, watched something, or simply enjoyed the peaceful silence between you.
you weren't trying to demand his attention; your body had simply grown so used to seeking him out that it happened without thought. after enough time together, bunny stopped noticing when you leaned on him because it had become such a normal part of his everyday life.
the people around you found the relationship amusing because they quickly realized how differently bunny treated you compared to everyone else.
he valued his personal space with most people, yet somehow you were the one exception. no matter how often you leaned against him or quietly followed him from room to room, he never looked bothered. instead, he unconsciously adjusted around you, making sure you were comfortable before thinking about himself. if you looked tired, he'd stay where he was a little longer so you wouldn't have to move.
if you accidentally fell asleep against him, he wouldn't dare disturb you, even if it meant sitting in the same position until his shoulders became stiff. to everyone else, those gestures were small, but to you, they meant everything because bunny wasn't someone who expressed his feelings with dramatic words. he showed them through patience.
there were even times when you worried you might be too much. you noticed how often you reached for him without thinking and wondered if it ever became overwhelming. every now and then, you'd hesitate before leaning against him, trying to give him more space than usual, only for bunny to notice almost immediately.
he had grown so accustomed to your familiar warmth that the sudden distance felt wrong. without saying much, he'd naturally close the space between you himself, settling beside you until your shoulders touched again or quietly resting an arm around you as if reminding you that you never had to second-guess yourself.
he never made a big speech about it because that simply wasn't who he was, but his actions always answered your worries before you could voice them.
over time, your clinginess stopped being something either of you thought about. it became part of the rhythm of your relationship, woven into every ordinary moment the two of you shared.
bunny grew used to feeling your hand find his without warning, to your head resting against him after a long day, and to your quiet habit of searching for him whenever you entered a room. it wasn't something he merely tolerated—it became something he looked for without realizing it.
on the rare days when you were too busy or simply forgot to drift toward him, he'd notice the empty space almost immediately. he'd never admit that he missed your constant closeness, but the way his eyes instinctively searched for you, and the quiet ease that returned the moment you settled beside him again, made it obvious enough.
to everyone else, you were the clingy one, but the truth was that bunny had slowly grown just as attached to your presence as you were to his.
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ julian loki
loki was not someone people expected to be the type to indulge someone’s clinginess. with his calm personality, his focus on football, and the way he carried himself with quiet confidence, most people assumed he would prefer having his own space. but when it came to you, things were different.
your affection never felt like a distraction to him. if anything, it became one of the few things that allowed him to relax completely after spending so much time pushing himself. you had a way of making the world around him feel slower, and your constant need to be close became something he quietly appreciated more than he would ever openly admit.
you were naturally affectionate, the kind of person who always found small ways to stay connected to him.
you weren't always talking or asking for attention, but you were almost always near him. whether it was sitting beside him while he reviewed something, resting your head against his shoulder when the two of you had a quiet moment, or simply reaching for his hand while walking together, your presence always seemed to find its way into his routine. sometimes you didn't even realize you were doing it.
it was almost instinctive, like your body already knew where it wanted to be. beside him, close enough to feel comfortable, but never enough to interrupt his own space.
loki noticed those little habits almost immediately.
he was observant by nature, so he picked up on every small thing you did. he noticed how your mood changed when you were able to spend time with him, how you naturally relaxed whenever you were close, and how you always seemed to search for him first whenever you entered a room. instead of finding it overwhelming, he found it endearing.
there was something incredibly genuine about the way you loved him. you weren't attached because you wanted something from him—you simply enjoyed being around him. and for someone who spent so much of his life surrounded by expectations and pressure, having someone who just wanted his company meant more than he could explain.
because loki was so patient, he never made your clinginess feel like a problem. he never pushed you away or made you feel like you were taking up too much space. if you leaned against him while he was relaxing, he'd simply let you stay there.
if you held onto his arm while the two of you walked somewhere, he'd adjust his pace so you could stay comfortable. if you quietly followed him around during his free time because you wanted to spend more time together, he would just accept it as another normal part of his day.
he didn't need constant affection himself, but he understood that it was important to you, and that alone was enough reason for him to give it back.
the funniest part was that loki slowly became just as used to your closeness as you were.
your presence became something familiar, something he subconsciously expected. after a long day of training, he found himself looking forward to the peaceful moments where he could simply sit with you and forget about everything else. you were one of the few people who didn't see him as just a talented player or someone who always had to be perfect.
with you, he could just exist without having to prove anything, and your clinginess reminded him that he was loved outside of football.
others around him noticed the difference too. they were used to seeing loki composed and collected, always focused and professional, so seeing him quietly allow you to cling to him was something they found surprising. he would be in the middle of something important, yet the moment you came over and rested against him, his attention would soften.
he wouldn't stop what he was doing completely, but he would make room for you without hesitation. it was subtle, but anyone who knew him well could tell that you were an exception to the usual distance he kept with people.
there were even times where you worried you were becoming too attached. you wondered if you were bothering him or if he wanted more space, especially because loki wasn't someone who always expressed his feelings through obvious reactions.
but he always made sure you knew you were welcome. he wasn't the type to shower you with dramatic affection or constantly reassure you with words, but his actions always gave you the answer. the way he stayed close, the way he remembered your little habits, and the way he never once made you feel like your love was too much spoke louder than anything else.
eventually, your clinginess became something that belonged to both of you. it wasn't just a habit you had—it was a quiet part of your relationship that loki had grown attached to as well.
he became used to your hand finding his, your warmth beside him, and the comfortable silence that came from simply being together. and although he would probably never make a big confession about it, the truth was that your affection became one of the few things he never wanted to lose.
because even someone as disciplined and focused as julian loki needed a place where he could stop being a player and just be himself, and somehow, that place had always been right beside you.
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ don lorenzo
lorenzo was probably one of the last people anyone expected to be comfortable with someone being clingy toward him.
with his strange personality, playful attitude, and the way he always seemed to keep people guessing, most people assumed he wouldn't care much about someone constantly wanting to be around him. but when it came to you, it was different. your clinginess wasn't something he saw as annoying or overwhelming.
instead, he found it oddly reassuring. after spending so much of his life feeling like he had to rely on himself, having someone who naturally reached for him, chose him, and wanted to stay by his side was something he never truly got tired of.
you weren't clingy in a way that took away his freedom. you simply loved being close to him.
it showed in the small things you did without even realizing it. whenever the two of you were together, you always found some way to stay connected, whether it was sitting close beside him, leaning against him during quiet moments, or reaching for him whenever you walked together. sometimes you didn't even need to talk.
you were perfectly content just being near him, existing in the same space while doing your own things. for you, his presence alone was comforting, and over time, don lorenzo became used to the way you always seemed to find your way back to him.
at first, he found it amusing.
he was used to people reacting to him because of his reputation, his personality, or the strange way he carried himself, but you were different. you didn't treat him like someone intimidating or impossible to understand.
you simply treated him like someone you cared about. your affection was natural and honest, and that was something that caught his attention more than anything else. you weren't trying to change him or expect him to act differently. you just accepted him exactly as he was, and for someone who had grown up without always receiving that kind of care, it meant more than he would ever openly say.
lorenzo slowly became accustomed to your habits.
he learned that when you were tired, you would naturally move closer to him without thinking. he learned that when something bothered you, you found comfort in staying near him rather than being alone. he learned that your way of showing love was through small touches and quiet moments together.
instead of moving away or teasing you too much, he simply allowed it. sometimes he'd act like he was bothered just to get a reaction out of you, but the truth was that he never actually wanted you to stop.
because beneath all of his strange jokes and unpredictable behavior, lorenzo was someone who valued loyalty deeply. your clinginess reminded him that someone genuinely wanted to stay. you weren't around because of his talent, his status, or what he could offer—you were there because you cared about him.
and that kind of affection was something he didn't take lightly. even if he didn't always know how to respond in the most normal way, he understood the importance of having someone who made him feel wanted.
the people around him would notice how different he became around you. lorenzo was still don lorenzo—still playful, still weird, still someone who could make everyone question what was going through his mind—but there was a noticeable softness whenever you were involved. he was more patient with you, more willing to listen, and strangely protective over the comfort you found in him.
if you leaned against him for too long, he wouldn't complain. if you stayed close during stressful moments, he wouldn't tell you to move. instead, he'd simply let you remain there, accepting your affection in his own quiet way.
there were even moments where he surprised himself by noticing when you weren't around. he was so used to your presence that the absence of it felt strange.
he'd find himself looking for you without realizing it, expecting you to appear beside him like you always did. he would never openly admit that he missed your constant closeness, especially because admitting something like that meant showing a softer side of himself, but the way he naturally relaxed whenever you returned gave him away.
your relationship with lorenzo was never about one person being clingy and the other simply putting up with it. over time, your affection became something shared between the two of you. you gave him the comfort of knowing he had someone who would always choose him, and he gave you the reassurance that your love was never too much.
behind the strange humor and carefree attitude was someone who appreciated being cared for more than he let anyone see, and your clinginess became a quiet reminder that he was no longer someone who had to face everything alone. you were simply the person who stayed beside him, and somehow, that became the thing he valued most.
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ teddy knight
teddy was the type of person who made it difficult to tell what he was actually thinking.
he carried himself with a calm, almost unreadable expression, often keeping his emotions tucked away behind a quiet attitude and a composed presence. because of that, most people would assume that someone being constantly attached to him would eventually get on his nerves. but when it came to you, it was completely different.
your clinginess never felt like a burden to him.
instead, it became something familiar, something that slowly settled into his life before he even realized how much he had started to depend on it.
you were the kind of person who showed love through presence. you didn't need some grand reason to be near him—you just liked being around him. whether the two of you were sitting together in silence, walking somewhere side by side, or simply spending time doing separate things in the same room, you always found yourself drifting closer to him.
sometimes your shoulder would brush against his, sometimes you'd quietly sit beside him without saying anything, and sometimes you'd simply stay nearby because being around him made you feel comfortable. it wasn't about needing constant attention; it was about knowing he was there.
at first, teddy didn't really know what to do with it.
he wasn't someone who was used to having another person so openly seek him out. he was more familiar with keeping a certain distance, observing others rather than being the person someone naturally reached for.
so when you started appearing beside him more often, resting near him without hesitation, or instinctively looking for him whenever you entered a room, he didn't quite know how to react. he wouldn't push you away, but he also wouldn't immediately show how much he noticed.
teddy was the kind of person who would quietly take note of everything before deciding how he felt about it.
and eventually, he realized he liked it.
there was something strangely comforting about knowing that you always chose to be near him. your affection wasn't complicated, and you never expected him to become someone completely different. you didn't need him to constantly express himself or act a certain way—you were happy with the little things he already gave.
for someone like teddy, who seemed more comfortable keeping his thoughts to himself, having someone who understood his quiet nature was something he appreciated more than he could explain.
your clinginess became part of his routine in the smallest ways. teddy became used to feeling you sit beside him whenever there was an empty space. he became used to your habit of leaning closer when you were tired or reaching for him without thinking whenever something made you nervous.
he became used to the way you searched for him first, like his presence was something that automatically made things feel easier.
and while he might not always react dramatically, he always noticed. every single time.
he was also surprisingly patient with you.
if you stayed close while he was focused on something, he wouldn't make you feel like you were distracting him. if you wanted to spend time with him after a long day, he wouldn't turn you away. teddy wasn't the type to constantly shower someone with affection, but he showed care through small, deliberate actions.
he would make sure you were comfortable, remember little details about what you liked, and quietly adjust his own habits to include you. his affection wasn't loud—it was in the way he made space for you without needing to be asked.
other people would probably find the difference amusing. teddy, who could seem so distant and difficult to read, somehow became someone who allowed you closer than most people ever got.
they would notice how he didn't react the same way when it was you. someone else invading his space might earn a cold look, but you could sit beside him for hours and he wouldn't complain.
your presence became an exception, a quiet place where he didn't have to keep up any walls.
there would also be moments where you worried you were being too attached. you'd wonder if you were overwhelming him or if he secretly wanted more space, especially because teddy wasn't always obvious with his feelings. but the answer was always shown through his actions. he never pulled away.
he never made you feel like your affection was unwanted. instead, he would simply stay there beside you, allowing the silence between you to speak for itself.
over time, teddy became just as accustomed to your closeness as you were to his. he might not be the type to openly admit that he enjoyed having someone always near him, but he would notice when things felt different without you.
the room felt quieter, his routine felt slightly off, and there was a strange emptiness where your familiar presence usually was.
he wouldn't call it missing you right away, but deep down, he knew exactly what it was. because your clinginess gave teddy something he wasn't used to—a constant reminder that someone wanted to stay.
and for someone as reserved as him, that meant more than any big gesture ever could. you weren't just someone who followed him around or held onto him a little more than others.
you became the person who made his quiet world feel a little less lonely, and without even realizing it, teddy started making room for you in every part of his life.
𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘: sae itoshi (japan), michael kaiser (germany), julian loki and vivian hugo (france), bunny Iglesias (spain), don lorenzo (italy), and teddy knight (england)
𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘: this is my first time making p*rn links oneshots, MINORS DNI!!!, visual sexual content, ignore this if you uncomfortable in videos, sorry the grammar, ALL THE CHARACTERS IN HERE ARE 19, except sae and loki they're 18, all videos are belongs to twitter
𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: p and v sex, fetishes, moody sex (sae, teddy and hugo), sucking tits, cunnilingus, backshoting, rough sex (kaiser/lorenzo) etc.
Summary: He returns home after being away for a few days to play an important game. But at home, something is happening that is far more important to him. "You know you're more important than a measly 90 minutes on the field."
Tag/Warnings: Fluff, taking care of his sick girlfriend/wife, domestic fluff, heartwarming, mention of vomiting, A/U where they actually feel human’s emotions and feelings such as empathy and compassion.
a/n: In memory of the first time I got sick while living on my own. Here 'Je suis malade' by Lara Fabian (Hugo). Here 'Je reviens te chercher' by Gilbert Bécaud (Loki).
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Bunny ⋆˚꩜｡
Barça’s crushing victory over Sevilla in the Copa del Rey final made headlines.
In red, in big letters, on every TV channel. Even if you were bedridden, with a fever clinging to you like a sin, you knew everything—from every dribble to Iglesias’s hat trick.
You were proud of him.
Because no headache on earth could stop you from watching his games and feeling that pride. You’d brave a dry throat and dizziness just to see him celebrate his goal from afar.
Even if the flu meant dozing off unintentionally for a few minutes and waking up thinking you’d landed in paradise.
But no, that wasn’t the case yet—it was just Bunny standing at the foot of the bed.
Fatigue kept you from making out the expression on his face, but you knew him. He was probably studying you, a smile on his lips as he tried to guess whether you’d just woken up from a nap or were faking it.
"I called your name."
He broke the silence, his eyebrows furrowing in a mix of concern and relief at your presence. Priceless, starved for your mere company.
“I’m sorry,” a cough interrupted your sentence, and your runny nose compelled you to search for a pack of tissues among the pile on the bed. “I didn’t hear you. Did everything went well?”
Lying there like a mummy, wrapped in dozens of blankets and yet still feeling a chill in the air, he moved closer to you and handed you what you were looking for. A gentle expression etched on his face.
"What's wrong, cariño?"
So soft, his voice echoed through the room bathed in orange light—the only light your fragile eyes could bear—his hand finding yours. Pressing it gently with a tenderness that whispered to you that he was there now.
"I don't know," you sniffed again. But this time it was different—he could tell. It was a sniff that revealed an overwhelming urge to cry out of sheer exhaustion. "I think I'm sick."
Trembling, your faint voice reached his ears, tugging at his heartstrings.
"I think so too," he knelt down beside you, the cold of his hand contrasting sharply with the heat radiating from your forehead. "Very much indeed."
With a difficulty as great as not laughing when he missed a goal he had dedicated to you, you propped yourself up. And the world around you rocked like a boat caught in a raging sea.
A sea where every ship flies his flag.
"Easy there," he cooed, stroking your back, probably feeling how damp you were from having stayed in bed all day. "Why didn't you call?"
Slowly, sliding like a snake toward your chin, his thumb cupped your face, lifting it just enough to make out your tired eyes, ringed with dark circles.
"I didn't want to worry you," you blubbered, averting your gaze as tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. "I'm sorry—I'm such a burden."
You had this innate ability to make everything more romantic.
Even when you were sick as a dog, all he noticed was that your pajamas had his name on them.
He didn’t notice anything else—just the way you’d slept on his side of the bed. Or that the TV was playing highlights from his game.
He didn’t care about your sweat, your runny nose, or your hoarse voice. All he saw was how much of him shone through you. That even in pain and discomfort, you were still thinking of him.
"You know that's not true," Brief and gentle on your chapped lips, he pressed a soft kiss. The tips of his fingers drying away those tears he so despised on you. "You know you’re more important than 90 minutes on a pitch."
"Stop that, Bunny. You’ll get sick."
"That's the best gift you could ever give me," again, he planted another peck on them. "Wouldn't you like to be stuck in bed with me?"
Hugo ⋆˚꩜｡
"Ma choupette?"
The front door slammed shut, jolting you abruptly out of your daze.
Slumped over your desk, wearing a dressing gown that wasn’t yours, you struggled as best you could to remember your very name.
Your mind was still foggy, your eyes struggling to adjust to the harsh light, and your head was pounding in time with your heartbeat—or even faster. You couldn’t tell.
Even peeling the paper off your sweaty arm was a real ordeal. The pen wedged between your fingers a clue about what you were doing before you succumbed to exhaustion.
Desperately trapped in a kind of dream where you couldn’t tell if the voice echoing down the hallway was his.
"Bichette, where are you?"
A reply didn't even have to cross your lips; his inner compass naturally guided him to you.
Like a cat that always lands on its feet, he knew by heart that sense of peace that washed over him whenever he found you again.
Even if he turned blind, his legs alone would guide him to you. That was destiny.
"There you are," he breathed, relieved to find you in your usual spot. As if you would ever miss one of his comings home. "Were you working with your headphones on? What did I tell you about the risk of hearing loss?"
Hugo was very pragmatic; the kind of guy who would point out the doormat that was in the wrong place—the one you might have tripped over—before even kissing you hello.
"I’m sorry, I was sleeping."
Your revelation made him drop his bag from his shoulder, a puzzled look frozen on his face. It was almost as if you’d just told him something huge, really huge, and completely unbelievable.
"What do you mean, 'sleep'? On the desk, you mean? What about your lower back? Your neck? I’ve already told you that taking naps in the middle of the day messes up your sleep cycle."
You couldn’t even get a word in edgewise, the concern in his voice growing as the realization hit him.
"Are you sick?"
"I think I’m sick."
There it was—the question and the answer at the same time. He wasn’t slow on the uptake; he just took the time to consider all the facts before drawing a conclusion.
"I’ll be right back," he slipped away, and you heard the cabinets open, the faucet turn on, then his footsteps in the hallway. "Why didn’t you call me?"
The big question. The one that had been running through his head for what felt like agonizing seconds and had probably already rewritten his brain.
"It's just the flu," you clumsily grabbed the glass of water he handed you, his fingers wrapping around it to steady your hand. "And besides, I had to work."
"Working in these conditions? Seriously," his thumb rested on your chin, opening your mouth just enough to slip an ibuprofen tablet inside. "Look at yourself. You can barely sit up. Drink."
He was a jack-of-all-trades—scolding you while playing doctor and giving you orders. So quick-witted, all yours.
"I ended up falling asleep. Maybe I passed out or something like that," you admitted, gulping down the water he offered you. "I’m sick, that’s all. No need to make a big deal out of it."
He was a proxy hypochondriac, and using terms such as "passed out" may have been the last straw on his scale of what was acceptable to hear.
"Still…"
He wasn’t reassured by your words; you could tell by the way he took your hand. His other hand resting against your lower back, he guided you through the apartment, a labyrinth to a mind so foggy.
“I can’t even concentrate when I’m sick. The flu makes me feel stupid.”
“Lara Fabian sings a song about being sick,” he murmured, tucking you into a bed with rumpled sheets and planting a kiss on your forehead.
The you from this morning was far too preoccupied with his game rather than doing household chores.
"I think she’s talking about a broken heart, not catching a nasty virus," your tried to recall, far too somnolently.
"See? Being sick doesn’t take away from your insight, choupette."
Soon after, sleep carried you away once more while he was telling you about his day. But this time, under the watchful eye of a man who was looking out for you.
And when you woke up, he already seemed more at peace. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his blank book resting on his laps, he looked at you the way a tourist might look at the Eiffel Tower.
A look of wonder and that already irresistible urge to come back and visit her every night, as the “Iron Lady” sparkles with a thousand lights.
"Was it my destiny to get sick?
"I don’t think so. But it was my destiny to take care of you."
Loki ⋆˚꩜｡
He had come back to claim her—that trophy with rabbit ears that sealed the second star on the Parisian jersey.
The capital erupted, the streets overflowing with people celebrating the coronation of the rightful champion.
Their shouts of joy echoed until the early hours of the morning, until the realization of this exploit finally catches up with them.
As for you, you dazed off as the players lifted her, your eyes closing on that picture of him. A silly smile on his lips, your ears almost picking up that beautiful laugh of his.
Maybe the stress of being away from him got the better of you, giving way to something a little more wicked.
A vicious cold.
A cold that immediately put you in bed—no room for negotiation. Just like him when he'd remind you to go to sleep, saying you needed to get your 8 hours of rest.
A cold that made you sleep for 12 hours straight, that woke you up the day after the celebrations with regret that you hadn't called him to congratulate him, and a dry throat.
Not even a quick text, worse than any type of fever.
The first thing your mind jumped on, grabbing your phone with such difficulty that just pulling your arm out from under the comforter made you shiver.
There wasn't even time for your eyes to adjust to the light before they widened.
On your home screen, dozens of unread messages ranging from cute morning texts to immense concerns. Missed calls logged at all hours of the night, almost every minutes. He’d even sent emails.
A sort of descent into madness, made worse by your dismissive attitude. And a realization that only deepened your sadness; you’d probably ruined his evening.
Still a little groggy, your brain didn’t know what to do. He was probably still asleep at that hour, after undoubtedly celebrating late into the night, but his absence actually reassured you.
It bought you some time to get back on your feet. And you would have hated for him to get sick too.
"I was worried."
You’d spoken too soon.
Leaning against the bedroom door, arms crossed, he was observing you. Eyes tired, still wearing the sweatpants from the day before, he looked as if he had a restless, unrefreshing night.
And knowing his personality and habits, that was undoubtedly the case.
"Loki," you called out, the drowsiness finally leaving your limbs. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry I didn't call you to celebrate your victory."
Gathering what little strength you had left, you waved him over; your headache still too severe for you to even consider getting up.
Quiet, obedient, he slipped by your side, dropping to his knees as to be at eyes level. For a few seconds, all you could discerne was how his eyes sparkled with the pride and determination of a newlywed.
A gaze that made your heart tighten, leaving your lungs unsure whether to inhale or exhale.
"It’s okay," he reassured, sweet. "Are you sick?"
You nodded, and your throat went dry at the sound of his soft voice. As if you had longed for it for too long, his touch tingly on your skin.
His kiss, as gentle as waves lapping at your ankles, grazing the back of your hand.
"Mon cœur, you should have called me."
Right away, you shook your head.
"Certainly not," you admitted, tightening your grip with what little strength you had left. "It’s not every day you become European champion by beating your friend."
He chuckled, his piercing eyes softening for a moment. A moment when he looked at you the way he looked at her yesterday.
Terribly in love, proud and reassured.
And without even breaking his gaze, he slipped a bouquet of flowers into your palm.
The ones you adored, the ones he gifted you on every occasion. The ones who soothed your heart and could have healed all your ills.
"Maybe you’re right," again, a kiss. "But it's not every day I get the chance to take care of my own bedridden girl."
Kaiser ⋆˚꩜｡
Even though Bayern Munich’s championship win wasn’t much of a surprise after their 35th title, it was still a reason to celebrate.
But not for you.
Confined to bed with a sore throat and a stuffy nose, you felt like you were dying every time you swallowed your saliva and choking when air wouldn’t get through your nostrils.
Feeling both cold and hot at the same time, you were losing your mind as the hours ticked by. Being sick didn’t suit you—it made you very dramatic and caused a lot of overthink.
Overthinking about everything. Like those unanswered messages you sent to Micheal.
Your mind, far too foggy for such an hour of the day, overflowed with morbid thoughts. When you closed your eyes, you saw his plane crashing. When you buried your face in his pillow, you imagined a fatal car accident.
Even staring at the ceiling turned into a manhunt: supposedly, his plane had already reported its landing. So no doubt that he was still alive and that your fever was making you anxious.
Wrapped in his blanket, you peered over the balcony to see if you could spot his car on the street. But nothing—every black cars oddly resembling his.
Every blond men sporting a jaded expression a hint of hope.
Leaning on the railing, you watched the passersby wearing Bayern jerseys, smiles lighting up their faces, and a sigh escaped your lips.
Your nerves were on the verge of snapping; exhaustion was starting to make you delirious, and at that moment, you wished for him to come back to you.
That he would gently scold you, tucking your feverish body in bed, still with that hint of arrogance dripping from every words.
That feigned nonchalance that hides something as big as his love for football.
"What’s exactly is wrong with you now?"
Cold and probing, that voice felt just as good as a fresh breeze when you suddenly felt like suffocating. Disdainful even over such a simple matter—you didn’t know it was possible to be that way.
And yet, as you clutched your comforter tighter, when you turned around, you were glad to see him.
Black tracksuit adorned with the club’s crest, perfect hair, and a bag at his fingertips.
There he was, annoyingly cute with that pout religiously stuck on his lips, a gleam of animosity sparkling in the blue of his eyes.
"Micheal, you’re back," you breathed softly, your fever and that anxiety subsiding with every step you took toward him.
"Why wouldn’t I be?"
“Because I was…” You stopped short, and a silence fell over the room as you realized there was actually no reason to worry.
"Get into bed," he snapped, his irritation already evident in his voice. But his rudeness was just as poorly feigned as the distant, anxious look that shone in his eyes. "I brought you some medicine."
You watched him, a raised eyebrow the only display of your confusion.
"Medicine? How did you know I was sick?"
"Go to bed."
Clearly not in the mood to explain, he just repeated himself. A slightly more serious look settled on his face to drive home his point, but it vanished when he tucked you in under the comforter.
Piling blankets on your lap, he even resigned himself to covering you with the one with little hearts—the one you’d given him as a joke and that he kept hidden from prying eyes. The very same one he used when you weren’t there.
He was silent, focused on his task, and brimming with caution.
And watching him open the bottles one by one, tear open the ibuprofen packets, and make trips back and forth between the kitchen and the bedroom to take care of you—secretly—had a greater effect than his medicine.
"Open your mouth," he ordered and you obeyed, your gaze never leaving his. In love. Completely charmed by his gentle behaviour. "Wider!"
You shouldn’t have pushed it—this was still Michael Kaiser, after all.
He made sure you swallowed it, taking a tiny bit of pleasure in your grimace at the bitter medicine before forcing you to lie down, a damp towel on your forehead.
He took care of you as if you had an incurable disease. An innate affliction he’d waited his whole life to cure through you—something he couldn’t even cure within himself.
"How did you know I was sick?"
"I just guessed."
"Liar."
You were sick, sure, but his lies didn’t go unnoticed.
"I saw it on the surveillance cameras," he confessed, his words barely a whisper, as if he were ashamed of keeping an eye on you even from across the country.
"Surveillance cameras?"
"Go to sleep."
He acted as if he hated having to take care of you, when deep down, far away, he was almost reveling in it.
"Since when do we have surveillance-"
"I said, sleep!"
Lorenzo ⋆˚꩜｡
You’d woken up with a start in the middle of the night, the winter fog still blanketing the streets outside.
Drenched in sweat, like a damp towel clinging to your body after a swim.
Head spinning, just like on those days when the sun strikes so hard you lose track of time.
And yet, none of that was the case right now. Far from the gentle summers spent away from everyone, tonight it was you who was far from him.
Your bedroom was still lit by the TV you’d left on last night, its blinding light splattering across the walls and bedding. Letting you come to your senses, steady your breathing in front of him.
Or at least, in front of the highlights of the Supercoppa—its final won by Lorenzo and his teammates barely a couple of hours ago.
His footwork and dribbles made your head spin even more, your palms oddly sweaty around the remote control to turn it off.
You couldn’t even remember how your evening had ended. Almost as if you’d collapsed into bed, clutching his pillow—still carrying his scent—to your body like a sin.
Just like the sin of envy, your mind unable to accept the fact he wasn’t by your side at this hour of the night.
All of that just to wake up feeling nauseous, alone in that bed, your whole body burning with the urge to throw up everything you’d swallowed.
As you dared to get up, your legs were so wobbly they threatened to give out, your vision blurry when you reached for the bathroom light switch.
Then suddenly, your stomach turned, and a sudden wave of heat surged through your chest, overwhelming your face.
You could still feel the acid burning in your throat, while your breathing quickened at the sight of a second reflection in the mirror.
Slender, tall, and carrying that weary look no amount of sleep by your side could cure. Lorenzo had come home at the worst possible moment.
"You weren’t answering your phone," he whispered, approaching you cautiously, as if afraid you might falter at the slightest sudden movement. "What’s wrong? Tell me."
You leaned against the sink when you realized that everything was going to be okay now, your racing mind finally quieted.
It must have been a painful sight to see—your trembling hands pushing him away, breaking his heart. Even more than your fleeting gaze.
"Sorry for worrying you," you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, securing it with the same confidence he’d shown when lifting the trophy. "It’ll pass, don’t worry. But stay away—I don’t want you to get sick."
You didn’t even dare look up, embarrassed that he’d see you in such a condition.
But that was underestimating him—his resolve was tenfold when the one he cherished was suffering. Because he knew perfectly well that he could help you feel better and never suffer the way he had.
So gently on your cheeks, he cupped your face so you’d look at him. Because even with your tired eyes, chapped lips, and sweaty face, you still shone with that way you had of wanting to protect him.
To shield him a little more from this cruel world.
"I'm calling the best doctor in town," he said, grabbing his phone while his other hand remained on your forehead. "What are your symptoms?"
"It's just the flu—it's no big deal," you reassured, with a confidence he could hardly believe.
Your body barely able to remain steady, swaying so much that even the edge of the sink looked like a wobbly pudding.
As if to prove you wrong, agree with him against your own will, your body sent you those unmistakable signals.
A knot in your stomach that tightened up as breathing alone became a conscious effort, a bead of sweat running down the nape of your neck sending a shill down to your fingertips.
And then, that sudden dryness in your mouth made you lean over the sink, Lorenzo grabbing your hair to keep it out of the way of what was about to happen.
"Is this nothing?" Another gag, his fingers brushing away a strand of hair, tucking it gently behind your ear. "Nothing this expensive doctor can't treat?"
"Money doesn't solve everything..." The faucet turned on; the water still bearing a strange taste in your mouth.
And yet, his words seemed to you like honey that healed all your ills. His mere presence the cure for your troubles.
"I guarantee that, as far as you're concerned, my money is the answer to all your problems."
Sae ⋆˚꩜｡
"Wake up."
In your dream, sporting an invisible smile, Sae had just won his fourth Champions League.
Content, maybe proud, he looked like a whole different man. That trophy a the tip of his fingers like a king being crowned after years of struggle.
"Wake up."
His white jersey as immaculate as the rebirth of a player who had lost all hope.
"Why are you smiling? Wake up."
Sudden, unwanted, your eyes flew open, gasping for air as if you had been emerged under water for too long.
Sweaty and exhausted despite your visible very, very extended nap, your body almost instantly reminded you of that night spent rummaging around the house for medecine that could make you sleep.
Like a ghost haunting the walls of an old building, your sore throat and dizziness didn’t magically disappeared after a restless twelve hour of 'nap.'
"Why are you sleeping on the couch?"
Startled once again, his figure looming over yours made you gasp.
He seemed carefree, with his bag slung over his shoulder like a teenager, yet he appeared worried. As if something were weighing heavily on his mind. Something that had to do with you.
"Sae, why are you here?"
You asked, trying to prop yourself up—at least having the decency to sit up straight so you wouldn't look like a slumped-over rag.
Without exchanging a word, he helped you, wrapping your shivering figure in that blanket that always carried your scent, your warmth never too far away in its fabric.
"What do you mean? I just got home."
A silence, your mind racing with thoughts of everything and nothing at once. Your memory failing you to even remember the last time you saw him.
"What about the final?"
"It was yesterday, and we won." He looked at you like you were some sort of alien, speaking gibberish. "I rushed back home because you weren’t answering."
His statement was laced with sarcasm, as if you were playing at his face—trying to fool him with one of your unfunny jokes.
"What’s the date?"
"It doesn’t matter," He took off his bag, his usual expression replaced by one that was even more indescribable—a mixture of worry and confusion. "What’s wrong with you? Sleeping on the couch, ignoring my calls, not answering my texts."
"I don’t know, I’m feeling dizzy and all."
"You’re sick," it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. In the sense he knew you so much that every of your actions had a meaning.
Ignoring him? Certainly napping.
Speaking nonsense in your sleep? Dreaming of him.
Sleeping on the couch? Watching one of his games.
A long sigh, exasperated, escaped from his lips as he watched you. Like two people waiting for the other to carry on the conversation.
More like, one man pretending not to be happy that you were sick.
He stubbornly pretended not to care about anything, but deep down, he longed for those moments of vulnerability when he felt he was needed.
When he didn’t have to settle for something less prestigious than his dream. When you were his dream, and no matter what happened, that dream would never change.
"Why didn’t you call? I could have send you a doctor."
"I didn’t even realised I was sick myself."
A glance that said it all was offered to you. And today, it seemed like even your puppy eyes won’t be enough to save you from his gentle scolding.
"And you’re an adult with responsibilities?" A hand raised to your blazing forehead. "You’re lucky I love you."
Starring: Itoshi Sae : Bunny Iglesias : Michael Kaiser : Julian Loki : Vivian Hugo : Karasu Tobito
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Itoshi Sae: Thighs. Sae loves seeing you in short skirts, dresses or hot pants, because he has a nice look on your thighs. He loves them big, small, shaved, unshaved, strawberry skin or smooth, Sae literally doesn’t care. Because they’re yours. Attached to his pretty girlfriend. One of his favorite things are (obviously) thigh jobs; your thighs clenching tightly around his dick…sigh, he adores it.
Bunny Iglesias: Boobs and Ass. He literally can’t decide. Bunny loves grabbing your ass at any given moment, his hands coming up first thing in the morning, cupping your ass and giving it a soft squeeze. But he also adores your boobs. He just loves looking at them, since you’re such a goddess.
Michael Kaiser: Ass. Michael worships your entire body. But your butt? He goes insane for it. The way he can grab it at any point, the way you throw it back on him in doggy or when you lie on your bed, only in lace underwear, the panties hugging your amazing ass just right. It drives him mad. Also, if you can twerk…? Yeah, his brain short circuits.
Julian Loki: Boobs. I actually headcannon him not being that into women, but if he would have to choose, he’d say boobs. They’re aesthetically pleasing and everyone knows that the French prefer beautiful things. You definetly are a very beautiful thing. So yeah, if Loki catches interest in you, he’d love your tits.
Vivian Hugo: Just like his best friend, Hugo prefers Boobs. He loves them on everyone, but he especially loves them on you. Whether they’re small or big, he loves them. Especially during sex, he likes to squeeze them and suck on your pretty nipples. One of his deepest, darkest secrets is that he fantasizes about you lactating, jerking off to the thought of drinking your milk after practice.
Karasu Tobito: Thighs. Karasu actually also really likes butts, but thighs just do it for him. Just like Sae, he loves seeing you in short clothes, just because of your gorgeous thighs. But unlike Sae, his obsession with your thighs is a problem; he pops a boner every time you sit down and your thighs double in size. He’s a goner and a gooner.
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a/n: English isn’t my first language, criticism is welcomed but please be nice. Likes, comments and Reblogs are highly appreciated! Do not steal or copy my work.
n: ignore that sae canonically is an ass guy, i think he just fits the vibe ‘thigh guy’ way better.
