i've been thinking about a farmer!katsuki x reader type thing where reader moves from the city to the countryside to stay with their nana in her declining health and learns her nana's neighbor has been helping their nana out with small things out of the kindness of his heart while they were away. romance ensues.
i've been thinking about it sm, i wrote a small snippet of something that could turn into something bigger, but idk if i can make it a whole story yk? let me know what y'all think....
“when i was younger, i wanted to be a superhero when i grew up.”
he says it like a confession, one he’s embarrassed to admit, especially to the likes of you, not yet friends but too intimately close to be acquaintances. his eye line doesn’t quite meet yours and he’s playing around with his salad, like he’s said something wrong or obtuse.
it’s cute; katsuki letting his guard down enough to let his vulnerability show. you’ve come to learn lots about him over the past few months through mere observation; how he would ask your nana for extra chili oil in his dinner because he liked his food super spicy; the way his nose would scrunch up when he was deep in thought over things he had no business worrying that much over. his person transformed before your very eyes just as the climate did. before, where you had to pry at him to get him to tell you surface-level things about himself, now, without even noticing, he lets out little gifts of his character, granting you access little by little, tearing down his walls brick by brick, and you couldn’t be more grateful to receive them.
“stop laughin’ at me.”
katsukis words crash your train of thought, bringing you back to the present. you realize you’ve been smiling to yourself while thinking of how much he’s grown; how much the two of you had grown closer together.
“im not!”
“you are. yer smilin.”
that gets you to laugh.
“now katsuki, when did smiling and laughing come to mean the same thing?”
he shrugs, playing around with his food some more, moving a crouton here, and sprinkling some parmesan cheese there.
“i’m smiling because what you said was cute.”
that’s enough to get him to look right at you like you had said something to offend him, though he holds no look of malice in his eyes, only intrigue.
“you’re definitely pretty enough to be a superhero and you’re jacked, so that checks out too.”
katsuki’s cheeks quickly turn from a soft shade of pink to a deep red reminiscent of his own eyes. when he doesn’t say anything and stuffs his mouth full of caesar salad and garlic bread in place of a response, you decide you’ve spent enough time poking fun at the ash blond.
“with everything you’ve done for my nana and me, i’d say you fit the definition of a hero quite well, don’t you think?”
he finishes chewing and shakes his head, roughly wiping away the crumbs from the garlic bread and dressing from his salad with his napkin, his ears growing to match the shade of red the rest of his face had warmed up to.
“’s nothin.”
“well you are my hero katsuki,” you say with gusto, maybe a little louder than you should in the evening quiet of the diner, wanting him to accept your confession as a self-evident truth, a confirmation of his childhood dream he’s worthy of carrying, “i don’t know how i could ever repay you for what you’ve done for us.”
“there’s nothin’ to repay,” he says with finality, stuffing his face with more salad and bread with a scrunched-up nose, gesturing to your untouched dinner.
cw: aged up characters, light college football player!bakugou katsuki x college student reader, angst,miscommunication, kinda toxic tendencies lmao, lots of cursing, reader referred to as "baby" and "girlfriend" but no other names or gendered terms used, katsuki is kinda good at feelings, hurt/comfort, other stuff i forgot about lmao, barely edited sawry
word count: 1.6k me thinks
a/n: hey yall, im still working on my football player!sero fic but it's turning into a long boy and i'm so ass at writing lmao so take this instead i hope y'all likey *muah*
you hated it when you and katsuki fought.
more often than not, it was always over something stupid and that’s what made the whole situation so frustrating. and because of your big ego and his stubbornness, that made it even harder to make up.
you understood he was busy. you really did. being the star quarterback was not a light task and you never would deny him that truth. but it was easy to miss him and his time with his schedule. and he understood that too. but his shared words of you being selfish and disrespectful lie too heavy on your heart.
the day hadn’t treated you kindly, you first woke up early before your boyfriend to avoid the continued argument from the night prior. what’s funny is that you don’t even remember what you were fighting over but the memories of his hurtful words thrown at you prevent you from digging further into your conscious to investigate the source of your hurt feelings. it didn't matter anyway.
when you got to your first class of the day, through intense and sudden anger last night, it had slipped your mind that you had an exam. this wasn't your worst subject but you hadn’t studied much the night before. you tried your best to conjure up some sudden knowledge of the material the exam was written for, but you’re pretty sure you bombed it. it was okay though.
bakugou had expected to wake up with you next to him, not in a happy state and probably scooted against the very edge of your shared bed, but at least there, with him. he didn’t expect you to forget what he had said to you, or even forgive him for his poor choice of words from the night before.
to his surprise when he feels around for your body and your side is ice cold, he shoots up in shock. he fumbles around for his phone and when he finds it, he texts you 7 times and calls you thrice. after 5 minutes with no response, now in the bathroom with his toothbrush in his mouth, he checks your location, not cause he doesn’t trust you but to see why you seem to be so busy you can’t answer the phone.
he sees that you’re most likely in class and chooses to leave it be, sending a ‘have a good day’ message and giving you your space, preparing himself to start his packed day with morning practice.
the weather seemed to be against you as well, raining periodically throughout the day, the climate growing more fickle as winter approached and because you left so unexpectedly, you hadn’t dressed appropriately for the day.
you open his messages throughout the day and ponder over what to say to him, but you settle on saying nothing, not sure what you could say that would mend or help how either of you felt. he usually picks you up from your last class before his, but you feel silly asking him to do so even though it's a part of your routine. you settle on taking the bus home.
you attend your next class, and after that, even though he probably wasn't home yet from his day classes and evening practice, you hide in the library until well after dark, trying to study and taking advantage of the warmth in one of the study rooms, but finding yourself crying most of the time you're there.
the student workers kick you out eventually and you rush to the nearest bus stop in the misty humid air of your city, careful to stick to your plan and not accidentally miss the last bus for the night. when you’ve convinced yourself that you’d make it in time with a pep in your step, a car passes through a comically large puddle, and the splash drenches you from head to toe as if it were a scene from a movie.
it leaves you even colder than you were before, fingers numb and near frozen. they hurt to move. you drag yourself to the bus stop in defeat, and even though there is no longer a bus to catch, you take off your backpack, sit down on the wet bench, and fish for your phone in one of the pockets, wiping the wet screen on your pants.
you can tell he was waiting on your call because he doesn’t let the line ring once before picking up, your name on his lips.
“katsuki?”
the sound of your voice nearly shatters his heart like glass.
“what’s wrong baby? where are you?”
you explained that you had stayed late at the library after your class to study and planned to take the last bus home. but because of unfortunate events, you ask him to come pick you up, defeat etched throughout your tone.
“are you fucking crazy walking around this late at night? i told you to fucking call me.”
he makes you stay on the phone with him until he gets to you, even though the two of you don’t say much. every few moments he hears you sniffle and he can't figure out if it’s from you being out in the cold or you crying. probably both.
he cusses a lot when he’s mad. you hoped he wasn't mad at you.
it takes him five minutes flat to get to where you are at the bus stop even though you live 15 minutes away. he throws his truck into park and even has the decency to put his hazards on to make up for his illegal parking job.
he steps out of the vehicle and stomps over to you, yanking your book bag from your grip as you stand up. you follow him back to the truck in silence with your head hung low and dried snot on your face with your sleeves pulled over your hands in an attempt to keep yourself warm from the cool night air. you wonder if he still likes you when you look like this.
he still opens the passenger door for you even though you know he’s angry. you climb in and whisper a quiet “thank you” even though you’re still hurt over the things he said earlier. he grunts and sets your bag next to your feet and when he closes your door, you can tell he tried his hardest not to slam it to let off some of his frustration.
he gets back in the driver's seat and slams his door shut this time, though you can tell he regrets it when spares you a glance.
he yanks off his black hoodie and throws it over to you, making a silent gesture to get you to put it on. it’s warm and naturally smells like him, a soft amber scent reminiscent of what you’d imagine a home to smell like. tears threaten to spill from your eyes.
he turns his hazards off and pulls off, pressing buttons on the dashboard. you feel your seat start to warm.
you’re surprised when katsuki breaks the silence first.
“instead of ignoring me all day, why didn’t you fucking ask me to pick you up?”
“because you’re mad at me.”
he pulls up to a red light and stares at you with the straightest face he can muster, though his flaring nostrils instantly show he’s trying to maintain his composure. he stares at you for the length of a light cycle and the only thing that breaks his gaze from yours is the car behind beeping to let him know that the light had changed to green.
he sighs, takes off, and pinches his brow with his nondriving hand, “just because i’m mad at you doesn't mean i stopped fucking caring about you. yer my fucking person, don't act like yer a burden to me. i should be yer first choice, not yer last resort.”
you bite your lip and nod, still looking down at your lap. he maintains his focus on the road but you have his full attention.
“i don’t like fighting with you,” you say after a while, quickly glancing over to him and back to your lap, crocodile tears spilling from your eyes and onto your pants, staining them with dark spots.
“you think i like this shit? seein' you cry and fucking letting you have a bad day when i knew you needed me?”
you shake your head.
“but you’re busy you said,” you say, wiping at the snot on your face with his sleeve.
what he said last night floods him with instant regret, “i'm not busy enough for my girlfriend though.”
he lets you cry and gives you his free hand, offering the comfort of his touch. he slips his hand in between your thighs, stroking your leg with his thumb. you take his arm and cry into it, trying to stave off your tears but you find it easier to just let yourself weep.
the rest of the ride is reminiscent of his initial journey to get you, the space of the truck quiet though littered with your sniffles every few moments.
when he parks his truck in front of your apartment, he reaches over and roughly wipes the tears from your face though you’re certain you still look a mess.
“i don’t— fucking,” he sighs and shakes his head before taking another deep breath, “i love you. and i know you love me. we’re gonna fucking fight and shit and it’s gonna suck but don’t ever for a minute think that i’ll ever wanna stop learning you or want you to stop depending on me. cause i’m not.”
you nod and he yanks you into an embrace. you melt into his touch and savor the feeling.
“i’m sorry,” he says into your hair.
“i’m sorry too,” you mumble into his neck.
and even though you knew there’d be many more fights and uncomfortable moments, because he was him, you knew everything would be alright.
content warnings: 18+ (minors i will snitch on you to your parents im not kidding), established relationship, aged-up characters (like 19 or 20, old enough to live together on their own), heavy petting, male masturbation, handjob (m receiving), ejaculation, cum eating, voyeurism (kinda??? idfk atp i was just horny and letting my fingers type shit), kinda very super duper sweet soft dom shinsou???? not rlly, but if u squint (there aren’t actual power dynaimcs), afab reader but no pronouns used, one “good girl”, multiple “baby’s”, mentions of marriage, mentions of pregnancy, AFTERCARE, mentions of family, shinsou and reader are whipped for each other like down bad horrendously for each other, not proofread
authors note: hey 🧍🏾♀️long time no talk, i haven’t wanted to write in a long time and im not good at it LMAOAOAKSKJSS this is very self-indulgent idk how i wrote this ive never done this before but i want to so bad and shinsou would eat that shit up so. i wrote this for him. and me. we. yeah. i hope yall enjoy this utter fucking garbage and filth like this is actually disgusting. if something doesn't make sense it not my fucking fault LMAOOOOOOOOO. this is the song the fic was based off of. HAPPY READING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! constructive criticism welcomed, reblogs appreciated :333
“you wanna what?”
your boyfriend stares at you in confusion, cheeks rosy, lips red, and hair more wild than normal from smothering your face with his just a minute prior to your sudden question or rather, your strained statement.
“ugh,” you reply, hands flying up to your face to shield you from further embarrassment, “i knew i shouldn’t have said anything.”
hitoshi adjusts himself, sitting up a bit further on the couch and you jostle slightly in his lap as the result of his actions.
“no, no baby, i didn’t mean it like that,” he rebuts, grabbing your wrists to pull your hands from your face. he’s too met with rosy wet lips and flushed cheeks as well as a mild pout. he tries to make eye contact with you, but you focus on things around your apartment instead. hmm, the trash looks full. maybe you should take it out later, and oh! the dishes need to be washed as well. oh, look what’s on tv! you’ve been meaning to get around to watchin-
“baby,” histoshi breaks you from your wandering thoughts and brings both of your hands to his lips to kiss them, “it’s okay,” he says in between kisses, “i was just wondering why is all.”
your eyes snap back to his briefly, then back to fluttering around the apartment, trying to stall and think of an answer that would logically make the most sense.
“well i,” you say, biting your lip between words, “i like seeing you feel good. and you feel good when doing that, right?”
hitoshi hums, kissing about both of your hands, up and down both palms, across each finger, down to your wrists.
“the thought of watching me jerk off turns you on that much? seriously?” he asks, a teasing smirk spreading across his face and you drop your head to the crook of his neck, where his shoulder and collarbone meet.
“you are not making me feel better,” you groan, “i thought we were supposed to be open with each other about these things”
“we are and im glad you told me,” he says, letting go of your wrists and wrapping his arms around your back. “it’s just my job to tease you as your boyfriend.”
you sit up and gift him with a smack across his chest which elicits a chuckle from him. he closes the space between you two and locks his lips with yours, you sighing into the kiss and bringing your hands up to run your fingers through the hairs at the nape of his neck.
the two of you kiss for a while, slowly grinding and whining in response to your growing need for each other. he was so hot and he made you hot and you could never be able to get enough of him.
hitoshi is the one to pull away softly, a soft smack sounding throughout the living room, a thick string of saliva connecting the two of you, “fuck, okay, okay. you wanna see me feel good, yeah?” he asks, eyes heavy and out of breath. “yeah,” you reply, nodding and biting your lip.
“okay,” he says again, giving you a quick peck on your lips before straightening his posture against the back of the couch once more. you move to lift off his lap, intending to take a seat on the soft rug atop the hard cherry wood floor of your living room, but histoshi grabs the meat of your sides before you can fully unmount him.
“i want you to stay here,” hitoshi says, positioning you against his hard length.
you drop your forehead to meet against his, sticky with sweat.
“okay,” you whisper, breath fanning across his face. he hums, agreeing with nothing in particular that you said, simply enjoying the presence of your voice.
he removes a hand from your waist, struggling to shimmy both his joggers and boxers down his legs devoid of his other arm, it having a mind of its own, working itself underneath his (yours) sweater.
you lift up a bit onto your knees to make the process a little easier for him, his head resting between the valley of your breasts. he takes his time working his bottoms down his legs, his other arm caressing the canvas of ur back underneath your (his) oversized sweater. u card ur fingers through his hair as he takes his time partially undressing.
normally, you’d be much more impatient and needy with him, but there was something different about this exchange between you two. this had been sitting heavy on your mind for a while. i mean you always loved jerking him off before giving him the suck of his life, but this was different. he’d never done it in front of you, there was never a need to. he was always hard and ready whenever the time called for it.
you knew he’d done it to the thought of you. he’d told you in passing once, before one of your shared classes.
“i don’t need porn anymore, i have you,” he’d stated blankly, like there was nothing wrong with what he said (there wasn’t, he was just more open than you sometimes).
“oh, okay,” you reply, not sure how to respond.
you were flattered to hear as much, but what really got you hot and bothered was the thought of him doing it. shirt clenched between his teeth, rapidly working his hand up and down his thick cock, needy for release. and ever since you’d been meaning to getting around to asking him to let you see it.
thank god he loves you so much. the bastard actually got turned of by the thought of you watching him as well. what a cawinky dink.
his joggers and underwear finally pool around his ankles and you slowly lower yourself back onto his lap, spreading your legs a little wider. he stares at you, eyes dripping with hunger as he undresses you with just a look.
you pull a little on his hair at the nape of his neck, eliciting a soft whimper from him. his dick, fully erect and raging red at the tip, jumps from the sensation as well, smearing pre cum against his bare stomach.
its weird to see him like this. you’d normally do things like this in the dark and enclosed in your shared bedroom but this was different; orange and pink light spilled from the sheer curtain-covered balcony windows in the living room, lighting everything up properly. there was no room for him to be shy (not that he would be any way).
his happy trail caught the light perfectly, leading down to his crotch, his pubic hair trimmed but not completely shaven. his dick spills more precum, sparkling in the light.
you drop your head back into the crook of hitoshis shoulder, unable to fight the embarrassment from ogling his dick so intensely.
“you asked me to do this and you’re more embarrassed than me?” he laughs, pulling you up to meet his gaze once more.
“it's not every day im having a staring contest with ur dick hitoshi,” you reply, eyeing him with slight annoyance, “it's just… out… looking at me… all intense like and shit.”
he shakes his head, huffs out a breathless laugh and smiles before pulling you into a quick chaste kiss. when you separate, he brings his left hand up to your face, “spit,” he commands, a tone of bass in his voice, and you comply, building up a nice amount in your mouth before letting it slowly pool into his hand.
“good girl,” he praises, caressing your cheek with his free hand before bringing his other down to his dick.
you're the first to break eye contact, following his hand go to smear your spit over his already wet dick.
the noise it makes is absurd and you can’t help but moan at his action, squeezing his hips with your knees in hopes of calming down your pussy. you can feel yourself growing hotter by the minute, pussy growing wetter by the second.
“did that make you feel good?” your boyfriend murmurs. that teasing bitch.
nonetheless, you nod, mouth slightly agape, your eyes not meeting his eyesight, but rather staring at his hand fist at his dick, a disgusting slick slick slick rhythm sounding about the living room.
in a way, it was beautiful, the way he fucked his glistening dick with his hand in the golden time of the day. every other stroke, he’d grip his dick firmly, foreskin slowly rolling over his tip, precum mixed with ur spit settling in the small concave space at the tip, making u cream more and more in your bottoms.
this fucker really knew how to please you. what a sweetheart.
“oh fuck,” he wheezes, free hand flying up to grip his hair. he’d found a nice rhythm, speeding up and slowing down, sometimes taking a break from working his shaft to rub his tip with one finger, staying right on the edge.
at this point, you’re squirming all about his lap, unable to contain your need for him. when he moans, you moan. when he gasps, you gasp. when he stops, you try to stop grinding on him, but you have a little less self-control than he does.
he starts and stops again, dick red from all the agitation. you whine from the lost contact, eager to see him continue fucking himself.
“can you do something for me?” he asks, bringing his face up to yours, rubbing his nose lightly across your cheek.
“anything you want,” you whisper against his lips, eyes heavy and breathing hard. you hope he can’t smell the onions from your late lunch. that’d be embarrassing.
“give me your hand,” he says, reaching out for your right hand. he grabs it and his hand feels kinda gross against yours, cold and wet from the lost contact of his dick.
instead of watching him guide your hand to his dick, this time your eyes stay glued to his, a new sudden confidence flowing through your body.
sometimes, he’d made you feel small with this type of look, eyes unwavering, never shifting from your form. he’d always made you feel shy, his presence suffocating in a way.
but other times, its made you feel so loved the look of want smothering you up to your chin. what does one crave if not wanting to be wanted?
he closes your fist around his dick, your hand encompassed in his larger one, guiding you on how to pleasure him.
“go slow, ill lead,” he says and you nod, still staring at him.
he squeezes his fist around yours, tightening your grip around his length before slowly bringing it down to the bottom of his shaft, his tufts of purple pubic hair tickling your hand before pulling your hands back up to the tip. his foreskin moves with the motion, stretching and tightening around his dick.
your mouth waters at the image displayed of what the sight could look like, but you’d be damned if you lost the game against your boyfriend so you hold his gaze despite your want to watch you pleasure him.
he builds up a rhythm again, this time a deeper slurk slurk slurk sounding about the space. your mouth waters more as he whimpers, louder and more frequent the more you jerk him off. his eyelids sit heavy but still on you, meeting your level of competitiveness.
he pants, almost like a dog, voice reverberating off the walls and breathing pattern matching the rhythm of your shared strokes on his cock.
awe shit, awe fuck. you want to put him in your mouth and swallow his load, you want him to fuck you softly into the couch, you want to feel him everywhere. you wanted him to give you his babies. raise a family. grow old with him. love him. awe fuck, awe shit.
“does that feel good baby?” you mew, panting in desire. he nods rapidly, eyebrows drawn to a point, mind too clouded with lust to muster up a verbal answer.
you tighten your pointer finger and thumb just slightly as he brings your hands back up to the tip. he jerks forward slightly, but keeps your gaze, groans falling from his mouth. you take you free hand and cup it under his balls, pulling up against them slightly, adding just that much more pressure.
that seems to be what sets him off.
hitoshis eyes squeeze shut and his jaw slacks agape as he moans out “oh fuck, oh baby, oh fuck fuck fuck fuck, im gonna cum. thank you, thank you-“
he keeps the pace going before his stomach hollows and his thighs tense, slowly jerking his foreskin around his tip with your hand, and letting his head fall back against the couch.
he spurts hot cum from his angry red dick, it splatting across his chest and stomach, across your (his) sweater, and onto your thighs. he still works your hand and his up and down his softening dick, cum oozing down your hands and across your fingers, a squelch squelch squelch gracing your ears.
soon he brings your joined hands to a stop, and sighs, head lolling to the side on the back of the brown couch, eyes still closed, a small smile on his face.
he lets go of your hand, his dick, now shrunken and soft, flopping on his messy stomach. you move to wipe his spend mixed with your spit on your (HIS!!) already soiled sweater but he brings his own hand up to his mouth before licking it, bottom of his palm up the side to the tip of his finger. he pries his eyes open, immediately finding yours before removing his finger from his mouth with a pop.
“tastes good. wanna taste?” he asks and like always, you nod.
he slowly rises from the back of the couch, grabbing your face with his hands, pulling you into a deep, sweet kiss. it was an odd taste, almost like the sour cream water before you mix it up, but if it was from hitoshi, then you’d always ask for more.
you separate with a smack and you smile. he smiles back.
“you like it?” he asks, and you nod.
“toshi’ juice tastes good.”
“good. don’t ever say that stupid shit again.”
you laugh and he sticks his forehead to yours, both slick and sweat.
“where did you learn how to do that?” he questions softly. you giggle, shrugging and pulling him into another kiss, his lips soft and fitting like a puzzle piece against yours, “i told you, i’ve had a lotta time to think about it.”
“i cant wait to marry you,” he whispers, eyes crossing slightly in a post-coital haze of love and lust. you smile harder and let your head fall into the crook of his neck yet again.
“when did that turn into a competition?” you mutter, voice vibrating against his neck and sending shivers down his spine. he lets out a small groan and you smile so hard, your cheeks start to burn.
“you started it,” he accuses and you simply shake your head, “and i ended it too,”
he laughs, airy and wonderful before pressing the tip of his nose to your neck, breathing in your scent.
you let your brain fog over for a bit after such an intense emotional and physical exchange. what were you gonna make for dinner? you still had to wash the dishes from lunch. and take out the trash. and now you both are all dirty and sweaty and smelly. maybe you could shower together after some rest? thank god the couch is pleather. it would be a bitch to clean the cum off of if otherwise.
“i didn’t get you to come yet,” he reminds you, your mind hazed over with sleepiness. you hum, nuzzling further into his neck, “that’s okay. i know you’ll make it up to me.”
he kisses your neck and hums in agreement, suckling at different parts of it, leaving red marks in his lips. “i'll wake you up in a little while so we can get dinner ready. sleep well stinky.”
your mind clouds over until you feel yourself drifting off to sleep. a light snore graces hitoshis ears which only makes him smile.
he rests his back onto the couch, you nuzzling more into his chest. he interlocks his fingers together across your back, his arms resting where your waist meets your ass. the sun sets a nice shade of amber red, smothering the both of you in a calming evening heat and glow. its time to rest now.
farmer!katsuki who wipes his hands on his pants for what seems like the hundredth time in the past five minutes, trying to pick out the perfect bouquet of flowers for your date in the afternoon quiet of the farmers market; the date he had worked up the courage for over three months to ask you on. he hovers back and forth between the cool purple lilies and the vibrant red roses, hands and forehead growing sweatier, unsure of which to pick. he quietly curses himself for never asking what your favorite color was, settling on the most expensive ones, grabbing a few single flowers for your nana as well, and stomps over to the cashier, paying for his wares. he departs to his old beat up work truck, slamming the door shut and gently placing the flowers across the front bench, hands sweatier than ever, throwing his truck in drive and making his way over to pick you up with the a/c on blast.
cw: 18+, aged up characters, fem!reader, set in medieval times, sfw but a bit steamy so MDNI, probably not historically accurate but idgaf lmao, reader is a part-time village teacher, reader wears a dress, reader wears a headdress, mentions of being “lady-like”, barely proofread
wc: 1.7k i think
a/n: hey all!!! here’s what ive been cooking up for a while, i really enjoyed writing this and may start a series on it idk. constructive feedback is always welcome just don’t be mean lmao
yuuji melts into your arms when he comes home to you. you try to memorize his touch during each reunion, just in case he doesn’t return.
“missed me?” yuuji says softly, lips brushing against your neck, the tip of his nose resting right against your pulse. you peek around his frame, only to find your front door ajar, likely showcasing your reunion to the entire village. he must have been eager to see you, too.
before his sneaky hands can wander to the places you’ve yearned to feel his touch, you slip from his grasp to swiftly lock and close your front door as a means to save your reputation from the masses of the village. there’s nothing like a gossiping flock of elders airing out your business with the town’s knight in green amongst each other. or the hushed laughter between your young students, whispering of the many times yuuji has stopped by your home-turned-classroom with the prettiest of wildflowers or the sweetest of treats for the class.
“i should be the one asking you that, seeing as you can’t seem to shut the door behind yourself just at the sight of me.” you tease, though not quite meeting his gaze. you steal a few glances at him but try to ration how much of him you take in, not wanting to waste what little of him you do have.
you play with your hands and lean against your front door, the main room of your house dripping in the orange of the sunset. midwinter had passed on, and with the early signs of spring also came the warmth of your knight.
“my apologies, my lady,” yuuji laughs bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck, “how could i forget my manners?”
how cute. even the bravest and strongest man in the region could still get shy.
he slips an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, using his other to softly lift your chin and get you to look at him, “could you find it in your heart to forgive me, my lady? just this once?”
you finally allow yourself to drink yuuji in, making note of each new scar he’s acquired on his latest journey away from you. leaning closer, you can’t help but let your gaze wander over yuuji’s features, taking in the changes that his time away has etched onto his skin. each mark tells a story of bravery, battles fought and won, close calls, and daring escapades. these scars, new landmarks on the map of his body, speak of adventures you’ve yet to hear about, of challenges faced without you by his side. they’re a testament to his strength, his resilience, and the life he lives beyond your shared moments.
as you trace the lines of his experiences with your eyes, you realize how much you had missed him, how much there is to catch up on, and how eager you are to explore the depth of the stories he has to tell. he’s not as grimy as he usually is when he comes to greet you after one of his raids, his clean hair and fresh though still musky scent indicating a trip to utahime’s inn, just on the edge of the village.
“i wouldn’t let it bother you,” you easily retract, letting your thumb trace the long scar that spans the bridge of his nose, “you do enough for me anyways, let alone the common folk.”
yuuji hums, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch. he only lets you touch him like this, and you happily indulge in the privilege, letting your fingers wander to his cheek, caressing the soft pink skin next to his lips.
“how long will you stay?” you ask after refamiliarising yourself with him, trying to mask the sadness in your voice. you know your knight won’t stay long; he never does. with a responsibility like his, you can’t find it in yourself to get jealous, knowing if he could make your arms a permanent home for himself, he would. but that’s not enough to stop you from wanting to be selfish, from wishing to hoard him as if he were yours and only yours.
he kisses your palm and pulls away to ponder at your inquiry, “just a few days. is that enough time for my lady to get her fix of me?”
you can’t help but flush at his frank response, likely a jab from your earlier teasing.
suddenly overwhelmed, you free yourself from yuuji’s hold yet again, brushing non-existent dirt from your linens and making your way over to asses your gift-covered table. he trails close behind you, not letting so much as a breath’s space get between you.
yuuji had brought you enough grain and flour to last you through spring and amounts of sugar and honey one could only dream of getting their hands on, only for those dreams to be made an accessible reality for you, thanks to your nimble-fingered lover.
“i don’t know how to thank you,” you say, looking over the items he’s brought you. you can only imagine the lengths of trouble he went through to get them for you and many others in the village.
“you don’t need to,” he breathes, crowding you against the table, trapping you in the space between his arms, “you know i’d do it a thousand times over for you.”
“perhaps i could make you a pie or sweet cake with the treats you’ve brought me,” you say, pushing the named items around your table. you can’t bring yourself to look at yuuji, knowing if you do, what’s likely to come after. you feel his hands snake their way around your waist, leaving a searing hot path in their wake even though he’s not yet touched your bare skin.
“oh, i’d like something much sweeter than that, my lady,” he whispers, words like venom on his tongue as he drags his nose lightly across your face, bringing up his hands to tilt your head just enough to gain access to you.
he captures your lips in a heavy kiss, and you know all the restraint you had for yourself; everything reminding you to “be a lady” was quickly lost in the way he efficiently worked you apart with just his lips and tongue.
he’s worked you halfway up the table, to the point where you’re on the very tips of your toes, using the table and your cast iron grip on his shirt as leverage not to fall before he finally breaks your kiss.
“i did miss you,” yuuji confesses, confirming your statement from earlier, breathing hard and planting slow, wet kisses down your neck, “missed you so much i thought i’d lose my mind.”
you try to say something to him, anything really, but with your brain fogged with lust, a moan finds it’s way out of you before words can. that’s invitation enough to have yuuji taking your lips in another kiss, this time with much less force but the same longing the first had. you taste the desire on the tip of his tongue. although his movements are erratic, he still takes his time with you, careful not to push you over the edge before he’s even got a taste of you.
and before you can allow yourself to finally indulge in him, after spending so much time away from each other, a round of firm, loud knocks at your front door has the two of you ripping apart, you clumsily knocking the table back a few inches and yuuji steadying himself as so not to crush you against it.
“brother! when i stopped by nanami’s and saw you weren’t there, i knew to come here next! gojo’s got information on the sheriff that you should hear before nightfall.”
you can’t help the bout of frustration that washes over you, but you knew something, or rather, someone, would eventually show up to interrupt your quality time with your lover. you understand the little access you do have to him is a privilege; how could you not? but even so, is it wrong to yearn for more of him?
“go,” you say, breathless and flustered, patting down on yuuji’s deep green tunic to rid him of the wrinkles from your steamy embrace, “i’ll have a warm meal and some ale waiting for you when you come back.”
you can tell he feels bad for having to leave you again so soon, but he makes no note to comment on it, instead busying himself with straightening your dress and pulling your head covering back into place before stepping away to gather his belongings at the front door.
his actions — the careful straightening of your dress and the gentle repositioning of your head covering — are tender gestures that speak volumes more than words could at that moment. they are his silent ways of apologizing, of cherishing the final moments before departure.
you follow him over, the boisterous but loyal todo aoi waiting just on the other side, unknowing of his well-intentioned interruption.
“i’ll be back home soon,” yuuji reassures, bending down to grab his pack and weapons, slinging his bow across his back.
“i’ll be waiting,” you softly reply, watching yuuji busy himself arranging his possessions on his person in a convenient way for on-foot travel.
this time, you allow yourself to be selfish, just this once, stopping yuuji’s actions to pull him down and kiss him as softly as you can muster, careful not to work yourself up all over again.
you pull away with a smack before yuuji can entangle himself around your person, “off you go.”
yuuji laughs and presses one last kiss to your cheek, unlocking and opening the door to find his brother in arms waiting patiently outside in the evening coolness.
“miss!” todo says, straightening his stance at the sight of you.
“aoi,” you greet him with a smile, “be sure to bring him back in one piece for me.”
“why, of course, miss. what kind of brother would i be if otherwise?”
you laugh softly and step aside to make room for yuuji to step across the threshold of your home, hands intertwined until they’re not, and before you know it, you’re bidding your goodbyes, watching yuuji walk away from you yet again to a place that you will never know. you suppose you have that luxury because of him so unlike before, you don’t complain. you simply thank the gods for blessing you with such a man as righteous as your knight in green.
cw: 18+, MDNI cisfem!reader, sukuna is a teasing asshole, not proofread at all
sukuna gives you a sly smile from his position underneath you, his free hand, not yet painted, tracing unknown shapes into your thigh.
your position atop him was that reminiscent of royalty, so comfortably perched on his chest as if were a throne designed only for you.
it was nice to switch perspectives for a change.
and yet, because sukuna was sukuna, he always found a way to get what he wanted when he wanted it.
his hand moves from its place on your thigh and slowly travels to your ass, toying with bottom of your sleep shorts.
“kuna,” you warn, your thighs clenching around his figure, “you’re the one who asked me to paint your nails. do you want them to look like shit?”
his hand journeys across your body in response, cupping the base of your thigh, taking his thumb and dragging it up and down your clothed entrance.
the moan that leaves you is pathetic, and you jump so hard that you drag a long dark purple line right across sukunas finger.
your boyfriend lets out a hearty laugh, not visibly bothered by your mess up; it was his fault anyways.
despite your physical position above him, he reminds you with his small yet powerful actions that he still holds the utmost power over you, taking you apart with just his slightest touch.
he licks his lips from beneath you and grabs the nail polish from your hold, all but throwing it on the side table, still caressing your folds through your bottoms, but his touch unravels you all the same.
you want to be angry at him for interrupting all your hard work, the work he asked you to do. and you’re sure his nails are completely ruined by now; he hadn’t allowed enough time for them to dry before he started feeling you up.
but that anger is short-fueled as sukuna continues to pull you apart with just the small motions of his thumb, evidence of your arousal soaking through the material of your panties and shorts, beginning to drip its way down his hand.
“i think i’ve let you have enough fun for now,” he finally says, pulling his thumb away and bringing it up to your lips. you allow him entrance with no fight, mouth agape and welcoming of his slick covered digit, “my services seem to be overdue.”
content warnings: it's really just fluff LMAO, blood and minor violence mentions, the reader is really just nervous, not proofread :P
authors note: happy new year yall! i whipped this up wine-drunk this morning. it's heavily heavily HEAVILY inspired by @mintmatcha and their hockey player!sero au drabbles. i think about it every day and i was in the mood to write so i had at my own take at it. i don't know shit about college hockey so if there are inaccuracies, i don't care LMAO. i wrote this for fun, i hope yall enjoy, and enjoy your new year's day!
“just grab onto my hands,” sero smiles with outstretched arms, stepping backward and carefully placing both of his skates on the ice
you stand awkwardly in front of him, your own arms wrapped around your body in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold air of the rink. despite sero reminding you to bundle up before picking you up, you’d opted for less clothing, not wanting to look like a marshmallow or something like the sort on your first actual date with the guy you had somewhat of a crush on.
instead, you opted for a pair of simple black leggings, probably not thick enough to shield you from the chilling temperature of the air, a fleece jacket with a little bulk to it, and nice thick socks, not only to help a little with the cold but also with the tightness of the skates.
when you arrived at the rink, he sat you down on a nearby bench to help lace your skates. you tried to keep your shivering to a minimum, hoping he wouldn't notice how your body shook, not only because of the cold but also in an attempt to physically curb your nervousness.
“cold?” sero asks kneeling low to the ground seemingly reading your mind, grabbing one of your legs to hike up your foot onto his knee, loosening the strings of the skate before tugging quickly, tightening the skate snug against your foot.
“a little,” you lie, taking your hands from the heated air of your mouth and placing them underneath your thighs.
“i told you to bundle up,” he smiles, repeating his action, lacing up your other skate. “i can lend you my jacke—“
“no!” you interrupted, jutting your hands up, “that's okay. ill uh,” you stutter, “i'll get used to it.”
it had come out of nowhere, the jock's sudden and random attraction to you. your roommate mina had been bored and whenever she was bored, she dragged you along with her to engage in whatever shenanigans she thought would stifle the boredom.
on this specific escapade, she’d dragged to your university’s athletic center for a hockey game. “it’s free with our student ID and they give out free t-shirts!” she’d tried to rationalize when you gave her a flat look, wanting to commit your free time to study or maybe a girls night in would have been nice.
the two of you sat in the audience of your university’s nearly empty hockey rink, in the row nearest the ice and besides what was known as the penalty box, witnessing possibly the most boring game of hockey ever (according to mina even though this was her idea.) while she stayed locked into her phone, you’d tried to grasp whatever knowledge of hockey you’d ever come across and apply it to the display in front of you.
there had been a bunch of repetitive passing back and forth between both of the teams, some vulgarities being thrown around, mostly by a crimson-eyed blonde on your college's team, and a shitty halftime performance by the band. the game was pretty meek but otherwise enjoyable.
as the game neared its end, the visiting team up one and mina fighting her sleep, a spat broke out and you gathered your attention quickly to see what was wrong.
before fully comprehending what was going on, a body was thrown right at you and your sleeping friend. you were thankful for the plexiglass that stopped it from likely killing mina and yourself.
you let out a yelp and covered your mouth in shock, the loud impact knocking mina from her pattern of dozing off into full-blown alertness, a confused “what the fuck” falling from her lips.
the body rose, jersey donning the name ‘sero’ and two double zeros. they threw off their helmet and gloves revealing a shaggy black mullet and red-faced man, face bloodied likely from the blow his body took.
he holds his hands up and cages them strategically in front of his body, ready to face whoever launched him halfway across the ice.
his opponent mirrors sero, the two circling about the ice, sizing up each other before sero quickly steps forward and juts his fist out, clocking the other guy square in the mouth.
you keep your mouth covered as mina hits your arm repeatedly, mouth hung in shock, before whipping out her phone to capture the scene.
the two scuffled for a little while, what crowd was still there, now fully engaged, cheering and chanting at the violent exchange. blood painted the ice, it seeping in and changing its color from snowy white to a cherry red.
after what felt like a lifetime, the officiators finally broke up the players, careful to not get hit in the crossfire, and threw them into their respective penalty boxes, one of which was right next to your seat.
you watched as the boy dropped in the seat next to you, only being separated by a small wall of glass and painted brick, with his head hung low. your hands remained stuck to your face, unable to process how that had all happened right in front of you after there was no action for most of the game.
you weren’t sure who won due to you covering your eyes for most of it, or even if anybody could technically win in a fight like that, dirty from the start and also possibly very illegal.
his face was even bloodier now, some of it clotting up on his lip on a path from his nose, other bits of it mixing with the sweat on his ear and matting his hair near it up.
it's only then you realize you’re being rude and staring at a stranger that just got beat up in front of at least a hundred people, probably a little more with it being broadcast on the local nearby stations. you also realize that he’s been staring right back at you.
your eyes widen in surprise, averting your gaze and turning your body into your roommate's space, her already posting the video to her snapchat and saying, “well that certainly made the end of my night.” heat washes over you and you start to get a little itchy, but curiosity gets to you nonetheless and despite the little person in your head telling you not to, you turn your head back towards the box.
you meet his gaze once again and before you can shyly turn your head back around in instant and immediate regret, he gives you a small smile and throws up a hand.
the heat moves fast to your stomach, embarrassment turning into butterflies. you also throw up your hand, waving it gently in his direction.
the game ends soon after the altercation, the visiting team scoring once more, leaving your school's team scoreless and you could feel the morale of the team depleted.
the athletic center nearly empty, you’re on your way back to your shared dorm when mina suddenly excuses herself to the restroom, leaving you alone at the front entrance of the rink. a voice you vaguely recognize rings from around the corner.
“i know ma, i should have waited for him to throw the first punch, but he kept messin’ with kaminari the whole game and you know i can’t stand there and watch that happen,” the voice said, getting closer.
you stand and fidget with your fingers, looking at your feet in anticipation.
“yeah, i know. i know. i will ma. okay, ma. okay ma, i will, i promise.” the voice stops.
you look up and see the guy from earlier, bandaged up and noticeably cleaner, standing at the end of the hallway a few meters away from you. again, you mirror each other, gazes locked.
“alright ma, i gotta go. love you more.”
he hangs up the phone and shifts the bag hanging on his shoulder before dropping his phone into his pocket, making his way down the hall in your direction. you avert your eyes back down toward your feet and drop your head, hoping the universe would grant you with the gift of invisibility.
his sliding steps eventually come to a halt and you feel a warm presence beside you, not quite breaking the plane of personal space, but enough to make you hyper-aware to wonder if your outfit was okay. or if your hair looked wild. or if you smelled bad.
“was i that pretty for you to be staring at me like that?” he jokes, breaking the awkward silence and it makes your body get hot and itchy again.
“im sorry, i know i was being rude,” you apologize sincerely, picking at the threads of your newly acquired red and blue colored t-shirt, it donning the school's 'plus ultra' slogan on it. “it was my first hockey game and i didn’t know things like that could happen in sports or were even allowed to happen in sports.”
you look up at him, “i guess i was staring because i was wondering if you were alright is all.”
“hockey is different from other sports,” he says softly, eyes moving downcast, “but you’re right, it's definitely not allowed, at least not like that. sometimes i don’t know comes over me.” disappointment sounds in his voice and it makes your heart hurt a little for him.
he shakes his head before picking it up to look at you and throws his hands in his pockets, “but i’m glad i had someone watching over us. over me. even if it was your first game. i hope i didn't scare you.”
after a name and number exchange, a few facetimes, and walks to class, he’d finally asked you to hang out, albeit doing something outside of your comfort zone, but you couldn’t complain. a date was a date. if you could call it that.
and now you’re here, still shivering but no longer from the cold in front of the incredibly cute and sweet guy trying to teach you how to skate.
“i'm sorry," you apologize, eyes flickering up quickly to glance at him and back down to the ice, “i've never done this before. and i really don’t want to fall.”
“i won't let you fall,” he promises, very slowly sliding backward, the weight and inertia of his body shifting him around on the ice. “i'll hold your hands the whole time. it’s not as difficult as you think.”
you roll your eyes and whine, “easy for you to say mr.hockey man. you do this, like, professionally, and i'm just,” you sigh, letting your shoulders fall, “i'm just me. scared of falling.”
“just try, for me. and if you fall and bust your ass so bad that the embarrassment leaves you unable to ever recover, i'll never make you look at the ice again, let alone try to skate on it.”
you laugh and shake your head, trying to listen to his words.
“it's just me and you and all these empty seats,” he drags on the ‘L’ in ‘All’, “i won't let you fall. even if you did fall, i wouldn’t laugh at you or point or anything mean like that. i'd just help you up and we’d keep trying until you get it. come on,” he tries again, gesturing for you to grab his hands.
you finally release your body from your hold and take a few deep breaths, mentally hyping yourself up to trust him. you grab one of his hands and he grabs onto your forearm, helping you steady yourself. you place a foot onto the ice and wobble a little, letting out a yelp.
“you’re okay,” he reassures you, “just keep your knees bent. now push off a little with your other foot. yeah. now try to walk normally.”
“please don’t let me fall hanta” you screech, gripping his arm with all the strength you can muster.
he laughs, “i won’t, i won’t .” the two of you glide carefully across the ice, close to the wall for a little extra caution in case you were to fall.
“see, you’re doing so well. keep your knees bent,” you bend your knees a little more, “good, yeah, just like that.”
maybe you wouldn’t mind falling. it seems like you’ve already started.
here’s a snippet from my football player!sero fic. idk when imma finish it but i love it so much i wanna share it with y’all :3
cw: fem!reader, making out, heavy petting(?), sero is whipped for reader, not proofread at all
“yeah we can take it slow, reallll slow if we have to. im good at slow.” sero says, sitting up and nodding his head, agreeing with his own statement.
“hanta” you says, and he looks at you slightly confused, “you’re the fastest and most dynamic running back in the entire conference, what have you ever known about ‘going slow’?”
“sero,” you start, placing a hand on his chest, and he frowns at you, “hanta, sorry,” you correct yourself with a warm face, “you don’t have to feel bad about running into me or hurting me or anything like that.” you bite at your lips and avoid his gaze. “things like that happen all the time. i was in the wrong place at the wrong time and i shouldn’t have to be your burden nor problem to try and fix.”
“im not doing this cause i trampled and almost killed you” he says “sorry again by the way,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, “im doing this cause i like you. i want to get to know you and your work more, i think you’re fascinating. and i kinda dont give a shit if you dont want my help, im taking care of you until you’re fully healed if you like it or not. dont think of it as me pitying you, im doing it cause you deserve it.”
its nice. having someone to hold like this and someone to hold you too.
but then, the universe decides to disturb the only peace youve seemed to get in the past week or so, and seros phone alarm rings heavy across your dorm, snaping you from your sleepy haze. you assume its his cue to start getting ready for his night practice before his game.
he slips his phone from his sweats and turns the alarm off, “i gotta go,” he says into your hair and you sleepily nod against him, “i know.”
“ill be back as soon as the busses get in, take you to lunch, or maybe i’ll make yo—“
you press your fingers to his lips in an effort to shut him up, “no. youre gonna get back, go to your apartment, and get some rest. i’ll be fine.”
“but—,” he squeeks out but you frown and press your fingers even firmer against his lips, “no buts” you say.”
he smiles and brings his arms from around you, grabbing hold of your hand that attempted to silence him, and kisses it.
he starts at your palm and works his way up to your fingers, peppering small kisses about your hand, keeping eye contact with you.
your face heats more and you turn your head from him to hide your girlish giggle. for him, it was easy to bring out your bashful side.
it feels weird, whatever the two of you have going on. he’s the universitys star running back, in the runnings for some of the most prestigious awards, trophies, and honors, and you’re just some nobody geek who needed a topic to do your work study on.
how the stars aligned for the two of you to cross paths, you’re not sure of, but you couldnt be anymore greatful.
all because he ran into you. literally.
he slowly and carefully starts to separate himself from you, scooting back and standing up from your slightly lofted bed, stumbling and almost falling.
you laugh and cover your smile, much to seros dismay. he could be so clumsy for such a focused athlete.
you try not to feel sad as he collects his things to leave, even though you were just telling him that he didn’t have to dote on you so much. you dont know how to feel really. youve never been treated this nice before.
he gathers the last of his things, keys clinking in his hand as he looks to see if he’s missing anything. after triple checking, his alarm sounds off again and he curses, “i thought i told you to shut up.”
you watch as he slips his phone back into his sweats before trotting over to you, leaning down and placing his hands on both sides of your body, caging you in.
he infiltrates your personal space so easily, but with a gentleness you can’t describe, so you don’t complain. your noses are almost touching and you can feel the breath from his nose blowing onto your face.
“ill be rooting for you,” you breathe, trying to keep your eyes from flickering from his eyes to his lips.
“id expect nothing less of my biggest fan,” hanta replies and you roll your eyes with a smile, the tension finally being broken by his insufferable humor.
“stay off that leg,” he reminds you with a huff and hard stare, “i mean it.”
“aye aye captain,” you reply, finally breaking and letting your eyes flit down to his lips, annoyed you couldn’t keep your composure, but glad youd finally indulged in this little game between the two of you.
hanta does the same and slowly begins to close into your space and you let him, heartbeat heavy in your ears.
theres a part of of you telling yourself to stop and that this was wrong but you didnt care. you didnt care one bit and if some part of sero was telling himself the same thing, he didnt seem to care either.
he carefully slots his mouth against yours and exhales through his nose, relieved he’d finally been able to kiss you.
his lips are soft and gentle as they slide against yours, and you wonder if yours feel the same, if he’d like the way this felt as much as you did.
a hunger washes over him and he pushes a little more into you,noses rubbing almost uncomfortably against each other, your covered breasts rubbing on his chest.
and before you can make a move to go any further, sero breaks the kiss, pulling away from you with a smack that reverberates off your dorm room walls.
“sorry”, he huffs, breathing hard and fast, trying to regain some sort of coherent thought, dazed from the touch of your lips, “im sorry.”
“its okay,” you reassure, shaking your head and ringing your fingers in your lap. “i didnt mind.”
he looks up to you and you smile bashfully, still hot from your kiss.
he lowers his head back down with a smile before straightening himself and walks backwards towards your dorm room door.
“kick their asses,” you smile and he smiles back.
“aye aye captain” he salutes, before opening your door and slipping through, giving you a knowing look and a wave before closing it, the auto lock clicking into place.
you flop down onto your bed, cover your face with your hands, and smile so big your cheeks hurt. if you could kick your legs in excitement, you would but unfortunately you’d have to settle for slightly less exciting expressions of joy.
