𑣿ྀི ⋆˙ ࿐ྀུ

[parudoll]

𓏲𝄢 @ parudoll / ru !! 19 ꪆ୧ black. any pronouns !! lace. trinkets. cantaloupe!!! stickers. star clusters. balljointed dolls. clicky sounds. baking. visual novels. poetry. collecting. uuuuuhhhhhhh

𓊆ྀི † 𓊇ྀི i write based around my interests!!! bnha, jjk, bllk, resident evil, etc. these will most likely be in the perspective of fem reader / black reader / veeery self indulgent. whole page is still a wip&:$: contains nsfw / dark content at times.

━╋⠀ : masterlist ৻ꪆ recent: slump !

[rottendolliezz]

Filthy

Summary: Zenitsu's other side doesn't seem half so bad

word count: 2.2k

i have been starving for some delicious competitive thunderbros content but couldnt find any. so i wrote it myself :D reader gets referred to with 'she' a couple times, but readers gender doesnt really matter not proofread because im lazy, so im sorry if theres any mistakes ;3 I hope you enjoy:D

“He’s disgusting.”

Kaigaku gnashed his teeth together, his eyebrows furrowed into a permanent scowl.

“He’s revolting.”

You watched how clench his fists, his shoulders tensing up as his nostrils flared.

“Trash like him shouldn’t be allowed to live.”

You looked like him like a deer in headlights, utterly clueless on how to respond to this tidal wave of contempt Kaigaku had for his sibling. The soft muttering of other voices in the small café filled the gaps of silence, along with the peaceful humming emitting from its speakers.

“There’s nothing about that sad sack of piss and wind that has any value to me.” He continued. “In fact, I’m nauseated by having to share the same house as him.”

You had no idea the mere mention of Agatsuma Zenitsu would have triggered this kind of outburst. Judging by his bodylanguage, you could tell Kaigaku and Zenitsu weren’t exactly on good terms, but still. The fact that Kaigaku could not bear to mutter at least one positive syllable about his other half left you bewildered.

“He’s pathetic. He’s a crybaby. He’s the furthest thing from manly to exist.”

The aroma of the steaming teacup in front of you managed to calm you down a little. The coffee Kaigaku had ordered remained untouched as well.

“Kaigaku…” you muttered. “What is your definition of manly then?”

He huffed in response, raising his eyebrows in such a cocky manner only Kaigaku could.

“A man.” He slammed his fist on the table. “Doesn’t beg girls to go out with them. Doesn’t blame others for their own shortcomings. Doesn’t take the easy way out.”

He let out a sigh, letting his spine collide against the cushions.

“Whatever. Let’s talk about something else. Speaking of that scum just makes my blood pressure go through the roof.”

You weren’t exactly sure how to feel about the project partner mister Himejima assigned you with. Zenitsu had mentioned once that Kaigaku had high scores, and whenever you managed to peer at his exam results, he was right.

Kaigaku strook you as someone disciplined. Serious. Dedicated.

Hopefully a breath of fresh air compared to other group projects where you yourself did all the work.

Zenitsu however, was not happy.

“YOU’RE WITH KAIGAKU????????????????????” He exclaimed, honeyed eyes blown wide as saucers by the news. His hand was desperately gripping onto your jacket, utter fear swirling in his eyes. “PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE JOKING. PLEASE!!!!!!!!”

You sighed, gently putting a hand on top of his head like you always did. “Hey, it wasn’t like I assigned the group partners for this project. Mister Himejima did.” You rationalized. “Besides, Kaigaku doesn’t seem that bad to me. He has some of the best grades in our class, right?”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?????????????” Zenitsu wailed. “HE’S THE DEVIL!! THE DEVIL!!!!!!”

You sighed once more, trying your hardest to soothe his worries.

“It’s just us working together for this project. It really isn’t the end of the world.”

Zenitsu’s lip trembled. He reminded you of a sad, wet puppy.

You mindlessly grabbed ahold of the teacup in front of you, the warm liquid gracing your lips.

“Kaigaku.” You spoke, straightening your spine a little. “I believe you are entitled to your own opinion of Zenitsu. But please don’t insult my friend in front of my face.”

You were surprised to see Kaigaku’s posture relax a little. You had expected him to see your statement as a challenge, seeing it as an invitation to spew more insults at your face.

“Fine.” He said, leaning back. “Guess that’s fair.”

A short silence followed. A waitress walked by your table.

“Why are you friends with him, (__)?”

You blinked, letting a silence settle as you tried to come up with an answer.

“Because I like Zenitsu.” You replied. “He’s funny and kind. I love how loud and chaotic he is. He never makes a single day boring.”

Kaigaku’s eyes narrowed. You could almost see the flames of a bitter jealousy burning within them.

He hummed. “Tell me, has he ever tried hitting on you before? Begged you to date him even?”

You stayed quiet at that.

Kaigaku was right. You lost count of the times Zenitsu had gone on his knees, desperately clinging onto your clothes as he wailed and begged you to marry him.

The bitter chuckle emitting from Kaigaku confirmed his suspicion.

“I knew it.” He clicked his tongue. “But he’s dating that girl isn’t he? That second-year from the Taro class?” He tapped a spoon against his cup. “What’s her name again?”

“Nezuko.”

“Nezuko!” He laughed, repeating her name with great amusement. He smirked as he ran a hand through his dark hair. “Oh man. I cant believe all his begging and pissing himself in front of girls managed to land him someone.”

Kaigaku’s arrogance was dripping from his demeanor. He genuinely believed he was above him.

It was kind of attractive.

“But oh man. Everyone can see how utterly pathetic their relationship is. It’s been a year now and they never even held hands before. It’s hopeless. I almost feel bad for him. Even talking about it gives me secondhand embarrassment.”

You stayed quiet. Although something inside you itched to defend their relationship, you bit your tongue. Kaigaku wasn’t exactly wrong.

Nezuko was a good girl. Much kinder than anyone you’ve ever seen. But still, you’d be lying if you said their relationship wasn’t one-sided. Nezuko barely initiated any kind of physical contact, and from how busy the Kamado bakery could be, she often failed to reply to her texts on time.

You watched as Kaigaku suddenly leaned forward, a sly smirk etched onto his lips when he did.

“(__).” He almost purred your name. “Don’t you think you can do better?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Look at you.” He said, finally taking a sip from his abandoned coffee. “I’ve seen you. Your grades are good. You’re smart. You’re disciplined. You’re pretty too.”

You tried your hardest not to look shocked. You hadn’t expected him to compliment you so easily.

“Aren’t you worried that guys like him end up dragging you down? Aren’t you tired of babysitting your supposed friend like that?”

You inhaled briefly, his constant slander now getting on your nerves. There was only so much you could handle.

“I think I can decide that for my own, Kaigaku.” You asserted. “Now, let’s just begin with the project.”

Kaigaku stayed quiet. You watched the smirk melt off his features as his green eyes bore into yours.

“Fine.”

——

Their kitchen smelled of steamed rice and vegetables as Jigoro scooped a handful of the food into three separate bowls. The two boys thanked him as he set down their dinner in front of them and began to eat.

Kaigaku watched as Jigoro and Zenitsu laughed about something he didn’t care about, reminiscing your company at the café. In a way, he kind of respected your assertiveness when it came to Zenitsu. Despite his constant slandering, you remained loyal and defended him as much as you could.

He thought about your body language, about your straightened spine and stern look in your eyes.

You had a backbone. He liked that.

He perked up as he heard a phone rang. Jigoro got up from his seat as he walked towards the living room, mumbling something along the lines of ‘I’ll go get it.’

A silence followed.

“Hey.” Kaigaku spoke, making Zenitsu look up from his dinner.

“That friend of yours. (__).” He paused. “She’s pretty hot. She single?”

Kaigaku watched in utter delight at how Zenitsu’s eyes widened in utter disbelief, his surprise quickly making way for vengeful, acidic rage. He chuckled when he watched the blonde’s hands grip his chopsticks til his knuckles turned white.

Veins of rage were throbbing atop his temples, his breathing quickened.

“Stay away from her.”

“Hah?” Kaigaku replied, enjoying every nano-second of ragebaiting Zenitsu. “Why do you care? It’s not like you ain’t got a girlfriend already.”

Although he’d expected a certain kind of annoyance about showing interest in Zenitsu’s best friend, he hadn’t expected him to get this enraged about it. Wide, unblinking eyes stared him down, mimicking a predator that looked ready to pounce.

He’d never seem him this furious before.

“You will not date her.”

Kaigaku clicked his tongue. “That isn’t your choice to make, asshole. She can think for herself.”

Even when Jigoro re-entered the room, it did not dilute the aggression plastered on Zenitsu’s face.

His eyes were glued onto him for much longer than he liked.

——

“(______________________________!!!” Zenitsu whined, pushing his face into the plush of your arm. You chuckled at the familiar feeling as you tried to get comfortable on your couch.

“Hold meeeee!”  He pleaded. “My girlfriend is ignoring me AGAIN!!!!! I’M GOING TO DIE FROM A LACK OF ATTENTION!!!!”

You merely sighed, gently patting his head to soothe his emotions. He said that sentence way more often than he should.

You kept stroking his soft hair until his whines died down a little. He slid his arms around your arm, nuzzling it.

“Hey (__)…” He spoke. “How’s the project with Kaigaku coming along?”

“Honestly? He’s a much better partner than I expected.” You replied, smiling.

Zenitsu hated that subtle spark in your eye as soon as he mentioned him.

“He’s very disciplined and reliable. He takes a lot of initiative and takes his classes seriously. I like that.” You continued. “Besides, when me and him agreed to meet up at the Aozora café, he insisted on paying the bill. He even walked me home after!”

Zenitsu felt his stomach acid begin to bubble. You sounded way too positive about him. He hated it.

“Of course, we exchanged phone numbers to make communication easier. He even texted me asking if I got home safe. So far, he really exceeded my expectations!”

The smile melted off your face as soon as you saw Zenitsu’s horrified, disgruntled expression.

“Zenitsu…?”

--“But!” He pleaded, his grip onto your arm tightening. “But Kaigaku’s a brute!”

“I honestly didn’t get that impression…” you admitted.

The only thing that really bugged you about Kaigaku was how negative he was about Zenitsu. Although you stuck up for the latter like a proper friend, you didn’t want to sprinkle salt in an open wound. Perhaps Zenitsu was better off not knowing what he said.

“Besides..” You paused. “Do you really feel like that?”

Zenitsu sighed deeply as he let go of your arm, his eyebrows scrunched up in a sad expression as he stared towards your floor.

“No…” He sighed again in frustration. “Kaigaku…he’s a real pain the ass, but despite everything, I do admire him…”

You stayed quiet, letting Zenitsu speak.

“It’s like you said. He’s smart. He’s disciplined. He’s arrogant too, sure, but he always works hard. Harder than anyone else.”

His hands found your arm again.

“He never whines, never moans or complains. He always gets his work done properly and never makes excuses. If anything, he’s the real opposite of me…”

Your hand started rubbing soothing circles atop his head again.

“It’s alright.” You reassured as he locked eyes with yours.

“You’re still my favorite, Zenitsu.”

——

The following days, Kaigaku proposed meeting up at his place instead. According to him, the tables and atmosphere the Aozora café provided were no good to get any proper work done.

You agreed, seeing no reason as to why not. He did live together with your very best friend after all, and Jigoro was no stranger to you either.

How Kaigaku reveled in seeing Zenitsu’s sour expression as he opened the front door to let the both of you in. His keen eyes observed him carefully, taking in every detail about his tense body language.

That hungry look in his pathetic eyes. The way his teeth clenched and fingernails dug into his skin.

He loved it. Bathed in it. Pissing off Zenitsu was truly his biggest joy in life.

And so, what better method to aggravate him more than to be touchy with you?

Zenitsu noticed.

The way his filthy hands gently rested on your lower back, far too intimate for his liking. The way he leaned closer to you ‘because he didn’t quite catch that’, and finding other bullshit excuses to get closer to you.

The times he called you ‘pretty’ were the times Zenitsu was ready to fly off the handle. His nails dug violently into whatever he held, trying to calm his racing heart as it vibrated against his ribs.

Of course, Kaigaku remained gentle, never going as far as to make you uncomfortable or afraid. After the dreaded study-sessions were over -which Kaigaku insisted on doing in their living room, the scene of you two bonding all too painfully clear for Zenitsu to see- he insisted on walking you home, always texting you if you got home safe like the true gentleman he was.

 You couldn’t help but think about him sometimes. Although you audibly despised and disagreed with the way he badmouthed Zenitsu, there was something about his overbearing arrogance and carefree attitude that clung to you. Something enticing about that overbearing sense of self.

You were almost sad when the project was finished. Although you’d never admit it, part of you felt like the whole trajectory ended way too quickly.

Two eyes widened in surprise as soon as the grades were published. A gratifying score of 90/100.

“Hey.” Kaigaku’s low voice spoke as his teal eyes registered the grade. “Let’s work together again sometime soon.”

You nodded, smiling.

“Sure.”

[hidingwhere]

rough week so here’s some sukuna fluff + comfort

You’d been quiet all day; too quiet. Reserved and occasionally snappy whenever one of the servants asked you a question. Sukuna hadn’t seen you participating in your daily hobbies; drawing, reading, knitting, some of the many you had.

When he searched for you at your normal places, you were nowhere to be found. Not in the bedroom, not in the living room, not in the flower garden where you liked to roam. No, instead he found you up the large willow tree in the back area of the estates gardens, legs dangling precariously from the high branch.

“Wife,” Sukuna growls. “Come down immediately. You are far too high, it is dangerous.”

Much to his surprise, his usually disobedient wife clambers down the tree immediately. The King of curses tries to hide his shocked expression, two arms crossing over his chest as you… walked right past him?!

He watches with one brow raised suspiciously as you strut down the garden, annoyance radiating off you in severe volumes, more than he’d ever seen from his precious, calm missus.

However, Sukuna is not a man to back down that easily. He follows you like a predator through the gardens, footsteps matching yours as you walked inside and towards your shared bedchambers. Only when he shut the heavy wooden door behind him did he speak again.

“Tell me what bothers you. I will not tolerate this silence.”

You huff, still facing away from him. “Leave me alone, Ryo. I want space.”

His frown deepens. “I can sense your frustration. You’ve infected the whole castle with it. Tell me your troubles.”

There’s a long stretch of silence as you refuse to answer for some strange reason that Sukuna is yet to know.

“Are you menstruating? Is that the reason?”

You finally snap, hands curling up in frustration to form a ball shape. You whip your head around quickly, tears already brimming in your waterline. “Why does everyone always think a woman is menstruating when she shows emotions? Am I not allowed to feel things if I’m not bleeding? I want space! So go. away.”

Now, tears are flowing freely down your reddened cheeks and your hands come up in vexation, tangling into your hair and dragging down your eyes to roughly wipe the tears away.

Your husband studies you silently during the whole rant, only stepping forward when you start pressing your palms into your eyes that looks more painful than relieving.

“My wife, cease your crying.” Two large hands take yours and pull them down to your side, whilst a third hand rubs your head and cheek in a soothing motion. “Please,” he murmurs. Ryomen was unaccustomed to fragile human emotions, especially those that involved the appearance of tears. Thanks to you, he had encountered a fair few since being married to you, yet he still classed them as strange and unfamiliar.

You bury your head into his chest, silky robes gaining small dark, wet patches from your tears. Your little hands grasp onto of his arms, fingers squeezing around his beefy biceps. “I’m sorry for yelling,” you mumble apologetically into his skin.

He tuts. “Don’t be foolish, woman. Lay down and tell me what troubles you. The servants will prepare a bath.”

He guides you slowly to your shared bed, settling you down like fragile glass against the soft covers. You grasp onto him like he’s your only lifeline, eyelids dipping in tiredness.

“Just a rough week,” you utter out to him, like a secret only for his ears. “I’m tired and everything seems to be going wrong. Everything feels wrong.”

He lightly taps your thigh, an encouragement to explain.

“The bed sheets are too heavy, the bread I made was too sticky, and the drawing I did was so disproportional it looked stupid.”

Red eyes study yours intensely until you can’t maintain the contact any longer, dipping your gaze to the sheets below you. “It’s stupid. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have-“

“Silence, wife. No complaints of yours are stupid. I will have the servants get new bedsheets, make new bread, and order new pencils.”

A small smile touches your once frowning lips. “Thank you, Ryo.”

“Anything for my wife.”

[bia-nana]

You Seem Pretty Sad for a Girl So in Love...

When you started wondering whether loving Aang was supposed to feel this sad, you never expected the answer to come from Zuko.

PAIRING: Zuko x Reader |vs.| Aang x Reader

SYNOPSIS: You spent several years loving Aang—waited through missed anniversaries, forgotten birthdays, unfinished conversations, and promises meant with all the sincerity in the world. You knew loving Aang would also mean that you understood that he is also the Avatar. What you never expected was that healing from the sadness you felt while loving him would lead you back to the one person who had never left your side—your childhood best friend, Zuko. As old promises linger and new beginnings take root, you must decide whether love is found in the person you waited for or the person who stayed.

Chapter 1: What's Wrong With Me? [90% done | to be posted...]

"I keep looking for distractions, hope the feeling passes but I've got to say, it's getting harder everyday."

CHAPTER OVERVIEW: Your anniversary ends the way too many days with Aang does—with another goodbye. Left behind in Republic City while he answers the call of duty, you spend the evening alone until Zuko unexpectedly stays by your side, turning disappointment into laughter beneath the city lights. Months later, Aang returns with promises of uninterrupted time together, reminding you just how deeply he loves you, only for duty to pull him away once more. Sick, exhausted, and trying not to dwell on another empty goodbye, you throw yourself into work until Zuko quietly intervenes, insisting you rest while he handles the burden you refuse to set down. As storms rage outside the palace walls, you ask him for one simple thing—to stay—and for the first time, someone chooses you over everything else.

WARNINGS: None | No beta, we die like Gojo

Chapter 2: Begged [40% done | to be posted... ]

"They say it's a virtue to not let good love slip away, so I'm cool and forgiving. I'll take what you're giving... but nothing's quite enough."

CHAPTER OVERVIEW: Ember Island offers a temporary escape from Republic City, but not from the loneliness that follows you wherever Aang’s duties take him. Though his letters are filled with affection and promises of seeing you soon, “soon” never seems to arrive. As you spend your days tending to work, visiting your paternal grandfather, and reminiscing about simpler times at Ember Island with Zuko, you slowly realize how much of your life has become an exercise in patience. Every farewell is met with understanding. Every delay is forgiven. Every letter you send carries the same quiet request hidden between the lines: stay. By winter’s approach, you’re no longer certain whether you’re waiting for Aang—or begging him to choose you.

WARNINGS: Blood, characters being injured | No beta, we die like Gojo

Chapter 3: Less [30% done | to be posted... ]

"If loving me means crying on the curb at LAX, I wish you loved me less."

CHAPTER OVERVIEW: The colder the days become, the more fragile everything seems. Though Aang’s letters continue to arrive with reassurance and affection, they cannot replace the comfort of his presence when you need it most. As grief, responsibility, and loneliness begin to intertwine, you find yourself relying on the people who choose to remain—including Zuko, who never seems to leave when you ask him to stay. But by the time Aang finally comes home, some wounds have already had too much time to grow. And as your patience finally reaches its limit, you’re forced to confront how much of yourself have been spent loving someone who could never truly stay.

WARNINGS: Grief, minor character death | No beta, we die like Gojo

Chapter 4: The Cure [20% done | to be posted... ]

“My head is full of poison and my heart is full of doubts."

CHAPTER OVERVIEW: Aang leaves with a promise of coming back. Zuko leaves you with his confession of his true feelings that you aren’t ready to hear. Caught between heartbreak and healing, you choose distance, hoping time will quiet the confusion growing inside you. Instead, time only makes certain things clearer. Some people remain even when they’re given every reason to walk away. Some feelings refuse to disappear no matter how deeply they’re buried, and when your heart is finally ready for an answer, it returns to the person who never stopped choosing it.

WARNINGS: MDNI, suggestive content, heavy kissing | No beta, we die like Gojo

Chapter 5: Honeybee [20% done | to be posted... ]

“Baby boy, Honeybee, God— I love the way you look at me, and it's too hard to describe this in a way that feels honest, but even when I'm quiet, I love you, baby. I promise."

CHAPTER OVERVIEW: The waiting is over. The doubts are quieter now, replaced by a happiness so gentle that it almost catches you off guard. As late night intimate talks turn into wedding plans, future dreams, and conversations about the life you want together begin to fill your days, you discover that love was never meant to feel like a battle. It was always supposed to feel like peace. Now, you look into the future, hand in hand with the person who chose you every day, you finally understand that some promises are worth waiting for.

WARNINGS: MDNI, nsfw content—virginity loss, heavy kissing, pregnancy talks | No beta, we die like Gojo

BIA'S NOTE: This mini-series is inspired by Olivia’s new album. The girl on the swing gif that I made is Olivia! (inspired by her album cover) reminder that it's not representing the reader, as the reader is you, pookie! | Aang vs. Zuko x Reader is not being talked enough, so I’m here to serve 😼

[parudoll]

slump　˳𐑞 timeskip izuku midoriya x reader.

synopsis: bedrotting gets the best of all of us, but this one almost has you beyond saving.. to you, atleast. gotta get up.

⭑ hurt/comfort ??? from MEEE?? in this economy???? description of poor hygiene & depression, executive dysfunction, mention of relapsing (not exactly about physical self harm — mostly just falling back on bad habits in general), body dysmorphia ??? (one (1) line about wanting to leave your body)

you feel like a fucking cesspit. there’s a thin layer of plaque on your teeth from whatever you had left in your fridge. you keep forgetting to floss for the past few days. your sleep schedule has been beyond saving. waking up past lunch, and hitting the unwashed sheets when the sun rises the next day. insomnia has riddled you since childhood, digging its murky claws into your back and you refuse to pull them out. you desperately need a hair appointment.. bitch, let the hair ties rest.

you know theres dust piling up somewhere in the corner on the floor; spring weather added with dirt is a ruthless combination. you’ve had mosquitoes fuckin buck up to your face multiple times — today. a couple dishes lay untouched near the sink. you have a sufficient amount of food for the week, yet you dont feel like going through the steps that are required of a “full” meal. coffee it is again !!

what about all those applications you were supposed to send …? dont forget them assignments, too. doing all those things you said you wanted to do soon? you might’ve relapsed a couple times or so. laid in bed for so long your ass actively hurts from being in the same position for hours. you’ll happily stay up the entirety of the night — and then end up falling asleep, before brushing your teeth and showering a second time for the night.

you wanna rip yourself out of your skin and walk out of your own body.

so when izuku gazes at you with the utmost patience of a saint, you’re not sure as to what he’s even seeing in you.

scarred fingertips carefully move loose strands away from your face. “.. still gotta get up, darling.” he coos. silently looking over every pore and mostly faded blemish.

when you only half heartedly murmur in response, the motherfucker grins. grins. has all the trauma finally caught up to him?????? were you dating an alien clone of your own boyfriend and didn’t know?

“nnnnuh uh. cmon, im not flaking out on you.” you feel a gentle pair of lips plant themselves on your crown. and then multiple times over, exaggerating the sounds the more they come. freckled arms gather you to sit up against him, chest to chest on your bed. he’s stifling back giggles at your drowsy face. surely he should be irked at you — a grown adult that’s rendered practically useless?? in the face of someone who’s been bussin his ass since he came out the womb?????

it aches. it aches, in a warm way. it seems to be about noon, heading into evening. golden rays slowly slipping in past the blinds of the windows. it hurts how he’s so.. so. so stupidly sweet with you. how even in this scornful state of yours, he can’t help but loom over you — quite literally curling you up in his arms until you gather the energy to get up yourself. and even then, you’re sure wherever in the house you plan to go first, he’s sure to follow.

you’d wail if you could, push your palms into his front and tell him to stop wasting his energy on you. that you don’t deserve such warmth. but you know that wouldn’t work; not now, not in a millennia. even during those choice days when you put all your focus into something, he will still be right there — absolutely fawning over you. rewarding you for your hard work, as he calls it. doesn’t matter if you were a workaholic some months, and then a complete shut-in for the next; you’re never gonna be able to shake this green eyed fucker off of you.

and you adore it.

ru’s note: gulps. short but still something!!!!!!!!!!!!! hey guys how has this year & last year been for y—(pipe falling sfx)

[parudoll]

see ok i dont know if im stupid or if tumblr on mobile just . doesnt let u switch accounts when following ppl)$;?&:/?5: LIKE

[parudoll]

NNNNNEEEEWWWW THEME WHO CHEERED

[pyroami]

I TOUCH MYSELF JUST THINKING ABOUT YOU, YEAH

I'm sexually frustrated, and I can demonstrate it if you'd like.

𝄞 synopsis: your best friend, SAE ITOSHI knows you've never been one to have sex, do hookups, or even date. he doesn't want to overstep; he really shouldn't. but you keep looking at him like you want him to teach you, like it's his responsibility. and maybe as your best friend? it is.

𝄞 contains: SMUT, fem!reader, reader has hair, reader has a mom, they r 19, swearing, endless anime references, childhood best friends, family friends & neighbours, experienced!sae, inexperienced!reader, bratty!reader, pussydrunk!sae, posessive!sae, pining, sae teaches reader how to kiss and masturbate, making out, neck kissing, vaginismus (complications with his fingers), clit rubbing while you touch yourself, pussy spitting, pussy eating under the blanket, yapper sae i repeat yapper sae

𝄞 word count: 6.9k + 453 bonus drabble !

𝄞 credits: to @g-gulp for editing, discussing, and making the banner for me! ur so awesome n amazing. other creds to all my irl friends who beta read this...

𝄞 A/N: piggybacking off this post. based off an argument i had w an experienced!sae truther... also i took inspo's from @dotlusional's 'kiss' w katsuki! it was amazing!

"Okay, it's embarrassing, but I haven't really kissed anyone before."

"That's not surprising in the slightest."

"What? Hey!"

Sae had always been the blunt type; you knew of that. Ever since you were children, he would wave away the kind reporters asking him questions with a harsh 'Go away', take trophies and medals wherever he walked, and speak like he was better than everyone else.

Nobody told him he shouldn't talk like that to people — especially to adults and teachers. That language like that wasn't proper etiquette, so he never fixed it.

And you were always the more polite type. Shy, but got along with almost anyone if they spoke first. Kind, chiding him whenever he told another kid to piss off. Pretty, as the years went by and you went from scraped knees and tangled hair to soft skin, girlish fragrances, and the delicate contour of your legs.

He swallowed thickly.

Your legs.

As you got older, you stopped wearing basketball shorts and switched to skirts, then short shorts, then slacks. Frankly, it was hard for him to look away from your thighs. They were plush and soft and ran up the curve of your—

He tore away his gaze from your bare legs resting over the blanket and focused on the TV screen, the fan, and the open window pouring with rain. Anywhere but your tempting skin.

Sae usually doesn't admit these kinds of things, especially not to you, but looks alone? He's astonished that not even one person ever tried hard enough to date you. You're smart, comforting, and nice to look at. If he were to settle down, he would do it with someone like you.

Of course, someone like you.

"I don't mean it like that," he murmured, fixing on your eyes instead. Pretty they were—all round and warm and focused on his. "You reject everyone who's interested in you."

Your index rubs your chin thoughtfully. "That's because..."

"Of your standards. Always on about your anime boys, huh?"

"That is so not funny, Sae!"

"It is a little funny. You're like Rin. He's almost finished his Junji Ito collection."

"Oh, now we're comparing me to Rin—"

"You collect figures and manga."

"They're pretty."

"They're anime boys."

"They're Tomoe, actually. Don't generalise."

"Tomoe is an anime boy."

"You were the one who watched Kamisama Kiss with me!"

"Hmph. Touché."

When was it? The summer before he left for Spain? You were prancing on about your ritualistic tradition of bingeing romance anime with him. There was Kamisama Kiss; Lovely Complex; NANA, which he had to stop because he hated Shoji; and his favourite, Ouran High School Host Club. The blonde male lead, Tamaki, always made him snort into his sleeve as a boy while you shook his shoulder squealing about it.

Anime like that was more up Sae's alley compared to Rin's fixation for horror and suspense, so he quietly cherished those days. Lying on the couch, watching TV in the summer heat, your frame on your stomach next to his, destroying a popsicle stick. It was a much better predicament than watching some porno his teammates had found on a beat-up DVD rental.

After all, he was with you.

You fiddled with your hands as the movie played on. Taxi Driver, for the third time this year. It was his favourite movie, but now that he thought about it, he never asked if it was yours too.

Was it?

You severed his thoughts with a question. "What was the anime you like right now, anyway?"

"The Apothecary Diaries. I like Xiaomao."

"You just like her cause she's like a cat."

"Meow."

You rolled your eyes at his quip. "I wonder what you think of Jinshi, then."

He paused. Sae always had a soft spot for the types of people with an odd backstory, much like Jinshi. It spiced things up compared to all the boring societal bullshit he deals with enough every day. "...I like him too. But he's a little dramatic for my tastes."

"You only like him cause he's pretty."

"Are you slut-shaming me or projecting?"

You snickered. "The former. Is he your type?"

"Not really? What do you think my type is?"

Waving your hands around, you mocked. "Someone hot with a nice ass."

He scoffed, but for some reason, he could feel his jaw clench. "So now you think I'm shallow."

You snorted. "...Yeah."

"Looks aren't everything, y'know. Pretty sure I go by vibe."

You snickered, your hand reaching into the bag of potato chips, his favourite snack that he was banned from eating. Damn you. "Uh huh."

You popped the chip into your mouth; a soft crunch was heard between your teeth, but all he could focus on was the plushness of your lips. He wondered if they felt as delicate as they looked. If they were as untouched as you said. How could that be possible? Look at you—

"Y'know that scene in The Apothecary Diaries where Maomao thinks his dick is a frog?"

He rubbed his cheek, snorting into his palm. "What about it?"

"Do dicks feel like frogs?"

Sae hadn't jerked off enough to remember, and he certainly wasn't going to check. Sighing, he said. "I don't think so? Mine doesn't."

"So why did she think it was a frog?"

"She's never felt a dick before. And it was probably the position. He was on top of her, after all."

You shook your head. "No, she was on top of him."

"Idiot. He was the one who landed on her."

As Sae reached for his phone before you could pointlessly argue about their weird pseudo-sex position, the sheets rustled and—

You climbed on top of him. Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, grinning like you proved something. Your arms were braced on either side of his head, your hair grazing the skin of his cheeks. And your knees—they were braced on either side of his hips, the urge to grab them all too real. Too sweet. Too good.

His breath hitched, magenta bangs poking his forehead as he murmured lowly. "What are you doing?"

Still, his large hands moved to rest on your waist, anchoring himself.

You reached for the phone in his hand, plugging in the password you knew by heart into the screen, fiddling with the phone.

You tilted the glass right before his eyes, it was that stupid frog scene. Maomao was on top of Jinshi, and you were unfortunately correct.

"See! I told you she was on top of him!" You grinned, pulling the phone away.

Before Sae could process what was about to leave his lips, he scoffed. "Are you sure you've never even kissed anyone before?"

"...What is that supposed to mean?"

Fuck.

He grumbled softly. "You're on top of me."

You scowled. "It's how the scene goes—a physical demonstration. And you're dead wrong; I don't feel a frog in this position."

"Cause m'not hard, stupid."

But if you kept yourself there any moment longer, he might be. His dick was already stirring to life in his sweats.

"Pfft— You aren't?"

"Very funny. You're a natural at this."

"At what?"

Sae didn't want to overstep; he really didn't. Ever since you were kids, he had always felt this weird sense of protection towards you. At first, it was the same protection he felt towards his younger brother, Rin, even though you were the same age and probably tougher than him. Then as he grew older and hit that age where some people were more than family, that protection grew into something different. Something familiar, yet completely foreign at the same time.

So he shouldn't overstep; he'd be a horrible, horrible man if he did. But your lips are curved so prettily into a proud smile. Your eyes, the colour and wrinkles of skin, stirred something down his neck and abdomen.

The tingle didn't stop there, blood rushing to his half-hard cock.

Shit.

He already moved to tuck your hair behind your ear, whispering. "Temptation. Wanna gain some experience?"

You paused, eyes blowing wide.

Shit.

The both of you recoiled from each other instantly. Sae had nowhere to run, really, but he threw his head back against the couch, hands twitching, deciding if he should let go of your waist or not. You, on the other hand, completely pulled back. In this new position, it seemed more like you were straddling him than just looming over him.

A flush crept up his neck, his hand moving to cover the lower half of his face. "That was a—"

"Geez, didn't know you could be so bold." You laughed, rubbing the back of your neck.

He blinked, hoping you were another hallucination and he was dreaming in the confines of the Real Madrid training facility. That you were just another illusion tempting him.

No, you were still there. This time, your eyes lit up.

"Hey, that's a great idea, actually!" You leaned in closer again, a bright smile plastered over your mouth as your breaths mingled.

He paused. One second. Then, the next one. His lips twitched expectantly, his cerulean gaze low-lidded and fixed on you.

"...What is?"

"Teaching me how to kiss."

Damn his biology, cock completely twitching to life at your wanton suggestion. "Wha... What?"

"Oh, come on; it's just a little kiss," You whined, nudging his shoulder.

Sae cleared his throat, quickly adjusting the waistband of his sweats. "No."

"You've already kissed like, so many other people. One more wouldn't hurt. And it's for educational purposes."

"There's a difference when I kiss other people," he whispered, his sensual gaze betraying his words. "It's that they're not you."

"Dude, am I that bad?"

Dude? His brows furrowed, his lip curling into a grumble. "Not what I meant."

"Then what?"

The space between you was so thin he could die. Let the couch swallow him whole, and let the hallucination die with him.

Hazy excuses and words scrambled in his mind. "It's just that... We're friends. And your mom wouldn't be exactly happy with me if she knew about this."

You shuffled in your position, hips lifting off his. "...My mom isn't here right now. And we're not kids anymore. I don't need my mom's permission to do things."

Sae inhaled sharply when you pouted, head tilting back and hitting the soft cushioning. Were you going to keep whining about it until he gave in? Pester him and keep pressing yourself against him? God, what if he were going to like it?

Then, you muttered. "...Fine. Not like I wanted to know, anyway."

Ever since you were children, Sae had always been the more disciplined one of you two. When he was renowned as a football prodigy, nutritionists and dietitians quickly came into his life, lecturing him about his dietary restrictions to maintain and grow his build. While you ate Happy Meals and devoured candy every week, Sae had to almost entirely let go of fast food, specifically his favourite—French fries. There was no doubt that he had to let go of many things to be perfect, but then he discovered that perfection was more than a flawed goal. Flawed philosophy. A lie.

But even if he wasn't perfect—nobody was—Sae could have at least shown some semblance of hesitation or discipline, especially when it came to you, someone who was oh so dear to him.

Instead, his fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged you down, his lips brushing your cheek.

One breath.

Then, the second one.

And on the third, his other hand snaked to the back of your neck, the faint blades of baby hair standing up from his touch.

"I'll teach you," Sae whispered, something resembling a low whine pulling from his throat. "Nobody else can."

You swallowed thickly, eyes wide and pouring into his.

"Okay, I trust you."

His lips were twitching and breath uneven as you uttered the words. You might have been some sort of hallucination he imagined to get through the countless gruelling days in Spain. You might have been a fragment of his dream. Who cares? You were still so utterly divine.

After all, you were his favourite girl. His best friend.

Sae didn't want to overstep; he really didn't. But if you didn't learn ruin from him, then someone else would have to teach you. And he knew he was too selfish for that.

One breath. Then, the second one. And on the third, you closed your eyes.

And his lips pressed against yours.

You never thought you would find yourself in this kind of situation.

Sure, younger you had eyes. Sae Itoshi was famous and handsome and rich, but he was off-limits. He was your neighbour. And after Sae moved in Spain for almost three years, you were much closer to Rin than the distant boy since he barely responded to your letters and calls.

Getting involved with Sae would be a betrayal to your dear neighbour and pseudo-son, Rin. You once thought. Sae was annoying anyway.

But then his lips pressed against yours like you were something delicate, and the faint taste of strawberries and honey sent thrills of warmth straight to your core; any semblance of restraint you had melted away, pressing yourself against him firmer—needier.

Then, you pulled away, just enough to peer down at him. His magenta locks were all frizzled up from the cushioning, and his cerulean gaze was half-lidded and fixed on yours.

No, more like on your lips.

"Did I?..." You start, but he cuts you off with a chuckle. "That was just a peck, idiot. Open your mouth."

You blinked.

His cold thumb pressed softly against your bottom lip, pushing the fullness down just enough to part your lips.

"Open your mouth," he whispered again, lower, against your lips. "It feels better this way, I promise."

A soft whine escaped your throat as he pressed his lips against yours again, shocks of electricity shooting down your spine and abdomen. His tongue swiped against yours once, something you assumed was like asking for permission, and your lips completely sealed around his, pressing yourself against him further.

Your hands scrabbled at the collar of his white T-shirt as his tongue prodded in the wet cavern of your mouth. It was gentle, like he was testing if you'd pull back. And when you whined, his tongue dragged slowly over yours, his hands tangling in your hair.

"Mmm—" Sae drawled into your mouth. "Is this okay?"

You panted, your breath mingling with his. "Yeah, yeah—Sae—it's good. Feels good."

"Yeah?" He seared his lips onto yours again, tongue webbing out to rub the roof of your mouth, sending sparks of heat down your stomach. He pulled back again in a quick haze, lips brushing against yours. "Feels good, hm?"

"Feels s'good; is it always this good?" You mewled, pecking his lips before flicking your tongue over his bottom lip, gasping when his mouth parted.

One of your hands gripped his collar, the other cupping the back of his head, tangling between his soft magenta locks. A gentle prick disturbed your bottom lip, caught between his teeth.

It stung a little. And in a normal context, it would even hurt. But it felt so good—so, so good when the sting came from him.

His lips then descended to pressing wet kisses down your jaw, all the way to the column of your neck.

You moaned quietly. His lips were hot—suffocatingly hot to the touch. Burning, like a fire had scorched your skin, but instead of pain, it was bliss.

You felt his lips curl into a faint smile against your warm skin as you craned your head back, exposing more of your neck. Soft groans escaped your throat, your fingers curling hard into his shirt.

His lips settled in the junction between your neck and shoulder, pressing a soft kiss before biting down. Harder than before.

"Sae!—"

"First time it felt this good for me too." He murmured against your skin, slowly thumbing your hips all the way up your waist. "You sure this is your first time?"

A slight flush crept up your neck, turning your head away from him. "You don't have to try and make me feel better, y’know…"

"M'being forreal." He tilted his head to the side, cerulean eyes filled with something you weren't quite used to—mirth. His gaze kept following yours even as you tried to look away. "Don't believe me?"

You pursed your lips sheepishly, your hands moving to rest over his shoulders. "Not really. But I— It's kinda hot in here, isn't it?"

Maybe it was his wet, full lips, or the fact that his lashes were so close you could count the endless, luscious hairs. Maybe it was the soft tingle in your core that tightened with each lingering touch of his hands.

Then, he lifted himself up before gently pushing you off his lap. "You're nervous; I get it. It's because you're on top of me."

He loomed over you, a playful twinkle in his eyes so faint you wouldn't catch on if he weren't your best friend. An annoying kid you forced to be your friend.

Naturally, you pushed yourself back until your back hit the cushions. Blinking up at Sae, who stopped himself short when you lay down, your hand tugged on the hem of his shirt.

You knew what that meant; so did Sae. A silent plea for something more than kissing. A silent prophecy that if he leant down, he wouldn't be able to get back up again.

Fucking Sae Itoshi, the idea of that was too surreal. You knew he had experience, that being a prodigy meant plenty of beautiful men and women threw themselves at his feet. You knew that he lived in an entirely different world from yours for five years, doing who knows what out there.

Still, you wanted him. You wanted him bad.

You frowned. "...Sae."

"This is going a bit far, don't you think?" He said, eyes averting from yours.

"I thought you wanted to."

"...I do."

"Then why are you hesitating?"

"I'm not supposed to touch you like this—"

"But you already have," you cut in. "Why are you acting like I'm some kind of... some kind of nun?"

"Pfft— You kinda are."

"That's not even true!"

"You are really innocent, sweetheart. It's not a bad thing."

You bristled. Sweetheart?

"Sae, c'mon," You tugged harder, watching his jaw clench. "Please."

He muttered. "Don't say that."

"Please."

You tugged on him a little harder, but this time, he let himself fall over you, hands bracing on each side of your head.

He pressed his lips against your forehead once, the action more intimate than you liked to admit. Like he was afraid of breaking you.

"You do know what you're asking for, right?" He whispered against your temple, carefully moving to the shell of your ear. "I don't wanna pressure you into anything."

"I—" You paused, trying to ignore the shivers trickling down your spine. "I want this."

"Are you sure?"

"Sae," you whined. Was he teasing you again? Your chin tilted to face him, your gaze softening at his unsure one. It was so uncharacteristic of him. Completely unlike the impassive boy you grew up with.

"M'sure."

"Okay," he nodded, cheek softly nuzzling against yours. "You're in charge then."

You weren't so sure what he meant, but your eyes shut and carefully found his lips. His kiss was slow and carnal, nose brushing the side of your own and large hands snaking around your waist. He squeezed you so softly, as if it were afraid of your departure, and held you close. So close that his breath felt like your own.

Your hips lifted to accommodate his hands, sliding to paw at your ass. His tongue gently prodded in the expanse of your mouth, darting around before stilling just at the tip of yours.

A noise of confusion escaped your throat as you scrunched his collar.

Sae hummed, laughing quietly against your mouth. "C'mon, kiss me too. You wanted this, right?"

The thought made you squirm beneath him, hands gripping tighter. He gently grasped your wrists and redirected them over his shoulders, coaxing you further.

"Wan' you." You whispered, arms wrapping around his neck. "I do wan' you."

Your lips reconnect, this time slipping into the cavern of his mouth and rolling your tongue against his. The wet friction sent shocks of electricity between your legs. Your tongue prodded behind his teeth before licking the roof of his mouth.

"Don't get shy on me now," he whispered. "Get your tongue deeper."

Your tongue pushed deeper at his words. So warm. So nasty. So fucking good.

He hummed, lips sensually following the pace of your own, hands grazing whatever he could touch. His tongue dragged over yours to poke your inner cheek, laughing when you whined and pulled him closer.

You pulled away breathlessly, only disrupted from his lips chasing yours into one last, searing kiss.

"Sae—" You gasped.

He gently pecked your lips. "Sorry. Got carried away."

You panted, temple pressed against his cheek as you caught your breath. Your thighs rubbed together from the hot ache between your legs, sparking with each fleeting second.

"You're wet, aren't you?"

Your head tilted up, your eyes widening at him. "What?"

Sae was breathless and debauched, his lips swollen and wet from your own, magenta hair dishevelled from your hands, almost revealing the baby bangs he liked to hide after turning sixteen.

"Here," two fingers shakily slipped past to press against your clothed pussy. "Feels good, right?"

You squirmed, fingers clasping around his wrist. "T-That feels good."

"You want me to help you?" He panted, softly thumbing your clothed slit. "You can say no."

"No— I mean, yes."

You paused, eyes darting to the sheets instead of his curious gaze. "...Do you have a condom?"

He was at your place, after all. And frankly, you were gravely underprepared for this kind of situation.

"Idiot," he laughed, fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. "We won't be needing that for a while."

The chill of the AC hit your skin when Sae tugged your shorts over your ankle, fingers smoothing over your clothed mound.

"Hm," he mused, tapping his index over the wet patch of your panties. "You're really wet."

His digits were twitching over your pussy, hooking beneath the edge of the cotton fabric. Like the urge to push your panties to the side was killing him.

A flush crept down your neck, gaze settling on the sheets. "No—No shit."

He made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, tapping over a particularly sensitive part of yours—one stationed above your hole, twitching when he rubbed it.

Your hips jolted at his touch, his index slowly circling the beady sweet spot. "Mm!—"

Then, his hand pulled away, moving to the curve of your ass. With a gentle tug, he hooked your panties' waistband down. "Up."

Your hips lifted as he tugged away the last remnant of privacy you had. Any semblance of comfort washed away from the cold air and his lingering gaze, the fabric hooking over the same ankle your shorts were.

"Hey, relax." Sae clicked his tongue when you squirmed, his warm hand moving to rest on your knee. "Eyes on me."

You tried to listen, focusing on his collarbones, his shirt, and fragments of his messy hair, but nothing worked. You couldn't meet his gaze, not when he stared at you so intently. Not when he could see every part of you. Not when his fingertips moved to press against your entrance.

Was this really what you imagined fucking Sae would be like? Not like you had imagined it or anything, just out of curiosity. He was never open about his personal life, but it was obvious that there was a side of him you've never seen. The weird phone calls. The weird disappearances. Hearing him curse and belittle others was the normal kind of crudeness you were used to with Sae. It was no doubt he was gentler with you—softer with you.

So to hear him be so blatantly vulgar?

He inched closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"You say you want me," he started. "Then you do shit like this."

It was bewildering.

You fiddled with your fingers before finally tilting your head to face him, swearing you saw the faintest hint of a smile when he dipped the tip of his middle finger inside.

"Mm, good."

Something like a whimper escaped from your lips, unaware that you were actually able to make those kinds of noises. "S-Shit."

His brows furrowed as his finger gently prodded at your entrance. "You're—" Sae bit his inner cheek pensively, stilling his digits. "You're a little too tight."

You winced, feeling your hole stretch around his finger. "I-It hurts."

He immediately withdrew his finger. "You've touched yourself before, right?"

"Um, yeah? Not really, like this—"

Sae smoothed his hand along the underside of your thigh—an attempt to soothe you. But his eyes were wide and... chiding? "Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"Okay, well, I don't know how this works!"

"Oh my god." He sighed before sitting back. "C'mere."

You chuckled nervously. "To do what?"

"To do it yourself," he chided. "C'mon."

That's when you found yourself in an embarrassingly exposed position, settled right on Sae's lap, his knees stationed right between yours, spreading your legs.

"Can't believe you wanted to fuck before even masturbating..." He murmured, chin hooked over your shoulder.

You swallowed thickly, head turning away. So vulgar. "It's not m'fault I didn't know."

"It's not your fault. Should've prepped you better."

You huffed softly. "So why do I have to do it?"

"Because," his hand gently clasped over your dominant hand's wrist, snaking it down your exposed abdomen. "There's no way someone at our age hasn't touched themselves before."

"I have. Just not..."

"Fingering?"

Your ears burnt. "It hurts."

"Because you're not relaxed or turned on enough." He brought your index finger to rest over your sensitive bud. "This is your clit. Feels good to almost any kind of touch. Be gentle with it."

You bit your inner cheek, watching his hand guide you to rub your clit in slow circles. "I know what a clit is."

"...Nice to know that's the only thing you've touched in the past nineteen years."

Your head snapped towards his. "Hey!"

He snickered, ignoring your huff. "So, if you want to cum..."

His lips ghosted over your ear, whispering softly. "Touch here. Rub there. Doesn't matter. But you could always..."

A soft whine escaped your throat as his hand guides you down further, stopping right at your entrance. "Make yourself feel good here."

Before you knew it, your middle finger was already dipping between your folds and inside your hole.

"Oh my god," you mumbled, brows furrowing. "Sae."

He hummed lowly. "Like that, go slow. It's good, hm?"

"S'good." you murmured, your finger now entirely inside.

"Feels even better when you curl your fingers."

Your brow twitched at his words, following curiously. "Wha... Okay."

His lips trailed down to the spot under your ear, kissing and sucking on the skin softly. "What do you usually think about when you touch yourself?"

His hand tapped the back of your own as you panted. "You."

It came out quicker than you expected, and in all honesty, it didn't even register properly from all the haze. But it was weird that after every call, every time you met Sae, you couldn't help touching yourself later that night.

It was something about his drawled voice, or the contour of his skin, or the flawlessness of his lashes or the chisel of his jaw. Or maybe it was his body, sculpted from divinity itself?

His breath hitched at your admission, fingers twitching over your hand.

You whined, pulling your finger out to push it back inside, curling to hit a sweet spot that made your toes curl. "I always think of you."

Something stiff throbbed against your ass cheek.

Your breath caught in your throat. Then, he bit down on your neck. Harder. "Ow—"

Sae seared your lips in a fervent kiss—all tongue and teeth and the intimate squeeze of your waist. He drank down every noise you made, panting against your mouth, swirling his tongue along yours.

"Let me help you," he panted, shaky fingers moving to gently pinch your clit. "Need to help you."

You moaned into his mouth, hips jolting from his touch. "S-Sae."

"Two fingers, you can do that, right?"

Swallowing thickly, you panted over his lips as he pecked you. "Mm—"

"C'mon," he muttered, pressing wanton kisses down your jaw. "Gonna make you feel s'good."

You pressed your ring finger to your entrance, pushing in slowly, wincing. "Hurts, Sae."

"Shh," he hushed against your cheek. "You can take it."

His index and middle rubbed against your puffy clit in a desperate side-to-side motion. Brows twitching with each passing second, he panted heavily. Your hips lifted in shock, fingers instinctively curling inside you.

Oh, you hit that good spot. It was spongy and rigid and oh so sweet.

You moaned, head thrown back over his shoulder. "Ah..."

"That's—" he sputtered, fingers continuing their relentless attack. "That's your g-spot. Should feel different from the rest of ya. Should feel really good."

Wet noises filled the room as you pistoned your fingers in and out of your hole, bracing yourself atop your best friend. Even though he was talking in your ear, breathy and hot as he always did, nothing registered. Every sense you had was being replaced by the overwhelming sensation of sweet bliss, your jaw slack and eyes shut.

"Curl your fingers more. Yeah, like that, deeper. Shit, you're—"

You whimpered, hips jerking as he continued to rub and roll your clit. "Sae, think m'gonna do that thing where I... F-Fuck."

He let out a quiet whine against your shoulder. "You are?"

"Y-Yeah, aren't y-you supposed to be the expert?"

"Sh— Shut up."

Just as something hot and unbelievably euphoric was about to snap, his fingers pulled away, panting harshly over your shoulder.

You huffed, your brain foggy. "Wha... Why?

"Not yet," he muttered. "Not yet."

Before you knew it, he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you. "You sure this is your first time masturbating?"

He pecked your lips, descending to your chest, pressing soft kisses to your clothed nipples and down your stomach. "You're pretty good at it."

"Pretty good?" you murmured, jolting every time he kissed your stiffening buds. "Thank you?"

His low-lidded gaze flitted down to your drenched slit, lips spasming at the sight.

You frowned as he settled between your thighs. "Sae, no."

"No more?"

"No," you shook your head, hand scrambling to tug at his collar. "I didn't do anything for you."

"...You don't need to."

You huffed, spotting the tent in his sweats. "Don't lie."

"M'being serious," he grabbed your hand, pressing a hot kiss to your palm. "I want to do this."

You sputtered at his words, embarrassed that he was inching so close to your bare pussy. Panting, you whined. "Do what?"

"Eat you out."

"What? Oh my god, that is so—" you stammered. "So embarrassing!"

His hands smoothed over your inner thighs, spreading them apart. "No, it's not."

"Yes it is. Sae, get up!"

He huffed as you pulled at his collar again, his sigh blowing warm air over your wet folds, making you yelp.

"How about this?" He reached for the blanket urged aside. "You see a blanket instead of me. Way better, right?"

You huffed. "You say that like I don't want to see you..."

"Isn't that what that is?"

"I don't want you to see me!"

"But you're so pretty." He pressed a kiss right on your clit, making you jolt. "And so sweet."

Your ears burnt as he pressed another kiss on your slit and another on your entrance.

"Okay, okay. We'll use the blanket."

"Alright," he hummed, pressing one last kiss to your clit again.

"Fun."

It was weird, feeling the ghost of his breath but only seeing a broad figure under your blanket.

Your legs were spread over his shoulders, thighs marked with soft kisses and bites Sae spent minutes on perfecting, murmuring something almost biblical to himself.

Then, you felt his fingers spread your lips in a V-shape, letting your head fall back on the cushions.

One breath.

Then, the second.

And on the third, still, nothing came.

"What are you doing down there?!" You whined, heel digging into his defined back.

You were only met with silence, but from the hot wave of air, you knew he was annoyed.

You scrunched your nose. So typical of him.

Then, he spoke from under the blanket. Low and teasing. "Your clit is all puffy."

"...What?"

He leaned down, pressed his lips to the bud and whispered. "And you smell s'good."

Then, his tongue licked a slow strip from your weeping hole all the way to your sensitive bud. The entirely new sensation washing over you in ways you could never imagine, your teeth catching your bottom lip.

"Oh, fuck. Sae..." Your hand reached under the blanket, tangling in his magenta locks.

His tongue slowly swirled around your clit, switching to softer kitten licks, slowly bobbing his head. You whined, thighs clamping around his head. "Ah— t'much!"

Your thighs squeezed shut around his head, so close that your knees grazed each other and the sweat from his hair smeared against your thighs. Sae huffed and wrapped his lips around your sensitive bud, slurping it into his mouth harshly.

You moaned sweetly, cheek pressing against the cushioning. "F-Fuck!"

Finally, you loosened up enough for him to catch your thighs off guard. His fingers dug into the plushness and pushed them apart, all the way until your knees hit the cushions.

"Too much?" Sae hummed, spitting into your messy hole. "You're so dramatic."

Dramatic? He was the one seriously overwhelming you!

His tongue webbed out, swirling around your entrance before licking up your folds. Spreading your labia with his tongue in a firm, upward lick, soothing the fold with soft, barely-there kisses.

Then, he sealed his mouth over your entire pussy.

"Sae," you whimpered, fingers pulling his hair in warning. "Don't even think about it."

A soft huff vibrated against your folds, his snicker evident. His thumb gently rubbed your thigh like some kind of apology. Then, he sucked your pussy in one, harsh motion.

"Oh my god—" you cried, thighs struggling to close against his strong grip. "C-Can't!"

"Mm," he murmured against your folds, his tongue moving to swirl around your entrance again, the tip gently prodding its way inside. "You can."

Your fingers sharply pulled at his hair. "S-Sae!"

He grumbled, the vibrations sending tremors into your pussy. "Stop movin'."

"Can't," your eyes squeezed shut when his tongue pushed in, firmly licking your sweet spot. "Sae, I c-can't."

Sae's tongue withdrew, soothing your pussy with wet, apologetic kisses, lips pressing over your inner thighs. "Why? What's wrong?"

You panted, fingers still gripping his hair. "...I told you I can't."

"Can't what?" he hummed, thumb reaching to rub your clit in slow circles. "Cum?"

"Cum." Your cheeks burnt at the word. "No, I do wanna cum."

He panted harsh breaths against your thigh and pussy, the oxygen levels decreasing by the minute under the blanket. "You're pissing me off. You say wanna cum, but you can't take it?"

"H-How is that my fault?"

He grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it aside. His bangs were all sweaty and pushed back over the rest of his hair. Sweat beaded at his temples, some reaching down his neck.

And his lips quivered, his entire mouth drenched with your wet slick, smeared over his cheeks and nose. Sae huffed lowly, cerulean gaze focused on the cushions, catching his breath. "M'going as slow as I can."

"I-I'm trying to keep up with you."

He scoffed. "...Yeah 'course you are."

You huffed. "I don't like your attitude."

"Okay then," he retorted, eyes threatening to roll. "So stay still. I'm not using a blanket this time."

Your breath hitched as he settled between your legs again, fingers tracing circles over your hips.

"And," he hummed. "M'not letting you hide."

Before you could process what that meant, he steadied his hands over your hips and flipped you onto your stomach. You could only see the open window from this view. Not Sae. Not a blanket. Nothing.

Your feet kicked squeamishly, though it didn't help much. "Wait!— This is so embarrassing—"

His lips found the seam between your thigh and ass, pressing a soft kiss to the warm skin. "Hn, stop squirming."

"How can I?" You buried your face in your hands. "You can literally see everything and I wanna die—"

You were cut off with a soft moan, his thumbs spreading your lips to slurp up your dripping hole, tongue prodding into your hole. His fingers dug into your ass cheeks, groping it harsher—needier.

"Fuck," he groaned softly, kissing down your folds until he found your sensitive bud. He sealed his lips around it before sucking fervently, noises growing as you squirmed. "Fuck, fuck. You taste s'good."

He almost growled into your cunt, moving to press kisses to your ass cheeks, softly biting down on the flesh.

Your hand wrings back to grab at him—his shirt, his shoulder—to be met with a firm hand clasping your wrist. He pinned it to the couch as he leaned down again, lapping his tongue over and over at your clit.

He was breathing—panting so hard that his exhaling puffed air into your hole. "S-Sae!" You moaned softly into the cushioning. "Oh my god—Sae!"

Something warm tightened in your abdomen. It was hot and electric and aching to explode, just like the times when you'd touch yourself, but this was much more. So much more.

You panted into the cushions, soft moans and whines escaping you as he ate your pussy. He was relentless; he always was, but this was a different kind. Sae could do anything, say anything, but when he promised you pleasure and brought you heaven?

Holy shit, it was too much that you could go crazy any second now.

"Let me tell you somethin'," he broke your thoughts, murmuring as his tongue slid out of your hole. "When you feel something so good you think you'll go crazy. Say you're cummin'."

"I-I know what that is."You whined, seeing that sort of language in the porn you read and watched, but not exactly knowing when to use it. "I think."

He muffled a scoff against your cunt, switching to long, firm licks up your entire pussy. "Wow. Genius over here."

You felt the warmth spread down your stomach to your thighs and cunt and clit and everywhere, fingers clawing into the cushioning. "Okay! Okay, I'm... M'cummin!"

You could feel his brow quirk, lips ghosting over your clit. "You're what?"

You were close, so close to the pressure releasing. But now, your cheeks were burning because Sae couldn't help but bully you about sex language. "I'm... I'm—"

He smiled against your pussy, the curve faint but there, and wrapped his lips around your bud one last time, flattening his tongue and sucking harshly—so harsh you could see stars.

"M'cummin'!"

White dots skewed your vision, and you swore you had died just now, but the pressure released, getting licked softly from Sae's tongue.

But oh, it still felt so good after you came, grinding onto his wet muscle. "Ah, Sae..."

His tongue stilled as you ground on his face, fingers digging into your ass cheeks harder. "Now's the time you get eager?"

"Sh— Shut up." You whined as he freed your wrist. "Oh my god."

He began to lap again, a little softer but pleasing against your puffy clit. "Mm," he hummed. "You came this time."

"I already told you— I know what that is—"

He slurped your clit into his mouth, the sensation all too overwhelming for your current senses. "Ah!"

"I know you know. Just telling you." Sae said, pressing one last gentle kiss to your bud before pulling away.

You panted against the cushions, only now realising the drool pooling in your mouth. Your ass was still perched in the air, your whole body dripping from sweat.

Sae swallowed thickly at the sight, his own erection throbbing against the cushions.

He didn't want to overstep; he really didn't. Sae was your best friend. Someone your mom entrusted to you. Someone you'd watch romance anime with. Someone who purposely didn't laugh at your jokes, just to see you get angry,

But you tasted so fucking sweet. Your noises were so pretty, so alluring. He'd have to die before leaving his place between your legs.

And you kept arching like it was his responsibility to teach you. Touch you. Make you cum over and over until you couldn't think of anyone else but him.

And maybe as your best friend, the boy you knew since you were in diapers?

It was.

"One more." His hand moved to grope your ass cheeks again, flipping you onto your back. "Give me one more. I know you can. Just one more."

"Wha?... Sae." You whined, so clearly fucked out, not even bothering to glance at him.

"You can do it," he whispered, leaning down to press several shaky kisses to your wet folds.

"For me. C'mon."

BONUS!

The summer after you graduated high school, you found yourself back at home in Kamakura. The weather was scorching, sweat beading down your neck as you stared at the ceiling. Your feet were perched over the side of your bed, back pressed against your cool floor.

"Did you finish?" you murmured, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Sitting on the floor against your bed was Sae, who had come back from Madrid to spend the summer with family. Frankly, in the past three weeks he had been here, he had not spent one day with his family.

Well, maybe aside from his mom, but everyone liked Mrs Itoshi. Besides her, he always had some lame excuse to work out, go on a jog, meet someone, go to Tokyo, or spend time with you.

You didn't mind, really. It just meant summers were meant for Sae.

"Shut up, m'almost done." He said, checking off the boxes on his phone. He wore a black T-shirt, legs crossed in a pair of basketball shorts, accentuating the muscles he had been gaining over the past few years.

Was it weird to stare?

Your head tilted faintly, settling on his concentrated face. He had been getting pretty good-looking recently, a little more than you'd like to admit. Since last year, he's been pushing his bangs back. His bangs were cute—almost childlike, but him with this new style... It certainly brought out his blessed facial structure and his lashes. Also, the glowiness of his skin—

Oh my god, ew, that sounds so dick hungry.

And that was certainly not towards Sae Itoshi.

"Done," Sae tilted his phone towards you, a bright red sixty-four illuminating from his screen.

"What the fuck have you been doing in Spain?" You immediately propped yourself up, snatching his phone. "A rice purity of sixty-four?"

He shrugged. "Why would I tell you?"

"Last year when you came back, it was like, an eighty-seven."

"Things change."

"Whore."

Sae rolled his eyes, taking his phone back. "You'll get there one day."

You scrunched your nose as he petted your hair—outwardly affectionate, but you knew he was being annoying.

"I don't wanna be like you." You swat his hand away. "I am totally okay with my ninety-two. Totally okay."

He stared at you blankly. "...Riiight."

You whined, sighing. "Maybe I'm not, but will that day come any sooner?"

"Y'know, in order to get some, you have to...put yourself out there. Talk to people. Flirt."

"Oh, fuck off," you reached to pinch his side, grinning when he groaned.

"You're too old to be doing this."

"We're eighteen, dumbass."

He grumbled, efficiently moving four feet away from you. "Wonder who your first kiss is gonna be, or somethin'. I feel bad for him."

Then, Sae groaned again when you threw a pillow at his face.

pyroami 2026

[parudoll]

but im a chuuuuuuuuuud im a weeeeeeiiirdooooo

[tteokdoroki]

🛞 TUNNEL VISION  ✩  yoichi isagi .ᐟ

🏁 pit stop ! 𖦹 when it comes to you, yoichi isagi has tunnel vision. you’re the very object of all his desires. it doesn’t help that he can’t see when other people are into him — so you take matters into your own hands and make sure that they see he’s only into you. (12.1K)

🏁 safety car ! ⋆ not safe for work ⋆ smut ⋆ eighteen plus only. pro soccer player au, canon compliant, characters in 20s, established relationships, healthy jealousy, mentions of injury, mentions of named female antagonist, dry humping, handjobs, obsessive marking, hickies, cum tasting, overstimulation, oral sex (m!recieving), yoichi isagi 25 - pro giver gets to recieve, lover boy isagi. pro soccer player isagi, fem reader.

🏁  team radio ! ⋆ you guys!! happy birthday to my beautiful boy yoichi!! my sweet love, i miss you him so much all of the time. i've been sitting on this bad boy for months and im so excited to share with you! hope you enjoy!! click for more. 

── © tteokdoroki ╱ 2026.

sometimes, you like to joke that your boyfriend, isagi yoichi, has tunnel vision. 

on the pitch or during a game, he only sees one thing. a means to an end, a means to win. 

although, when it comes to his personal life, the only thing isagi cares to look at — is you. love wasn’t something he ever wished for or intended on finding and for a long time, soccer was his everything. he breathed, ate and dreamt of the sport from the moment he could walk to the moment he entered blue lock and beyond, there was nothing else to focus on except for becoming the best in japan. the best in the world. 

in his future he envisioned, it was just him at the top. no one else by his side, no one else as ambitious as him. of course, until he met you — a chance encounter one fateful night, passionate eyes locked and the rest was history. he knew it then and he knows it now…

isagi yoichi only ever has eyes for you, you’re the only one he’ll ever want.

even if other people want him instead.

like most couples in the public eye you’ve had your fair share of jealous fangirls and vicious fanboys, but you’ve long since passed the stage of teary eyes and the threat of breakups looming over your heads. the blue lock PR team is insanely good at moderation, surprisingly, and you like to think the bond you share with their diamond player is strong enough to withstand whatever test is thrown your way. only sometimes do you feel that nagging vulnerability at the back of your mind, when someone gets a little too close to your all-star player and looks up at him with dreamy eyes as if to hope and pray he’ll look at them differently. look at them the way he looks at you. 

your boyfriend has never been one to stray, he’s as loyal as a dog and perhaps has an meaner streak than you when it comes to being possessive – he has an appetite for destruction when others attempt to get close to you, maybe even so much as glance at you and will turn into that vicious egoist not just you, but the entire world, loves. yet sometimes, your territorialism over isagi outshines his over you, sometimes you go to the extreme to prove that you’re the only one meant to be with him.  

this is one of those times.

whilst champagne flows and music thumps through your body due to the heavy bass, your mind wonders away from the party thrown in honour of the blue lock eleven’s latest victory against an overseas team in the football league. winning four to one with most scores and assists resulting from your boyfriend’s chemical reactions on the pitch — you should have been sneaking off somewhere to give him an even better prize than a silly gold cup. instead, you dance around the outskirts of the gathering, darting between the familiar faces of his teammates and their loved ones with swaying designer skirts whilst attempting to spy on isagi as he chatters away innocently with her.

her being a recent hire on the blue lock sports team is entirely too infatuated with your yoichi for your liking — as the new assistant physiotherapist for the eleven rowdy players, it was natural that this brand new and shiny ‘hana’ girl would be spending more time alongside the boys. alongside your boy. you don’t blame her, to be fair, it’s easy to be starstruck by yoichi. he’s the best player in japan, he’s gorgeous too — golden skin that glistens during matches and beautiful blue eyes holding the depths of the ocean’s secrets. his charm transcends anything anyone’s ever seen in a player of his ferocity, isagi can be kind and humble, attentive and makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world when he’s with you. 

you truly cannot blame her for the obvious little crush she has on him, one that must have bubbled and brewed during therapy sessions in between games and practices. 

that doesn’t mean she doesn’t bother you.  

your boyfriend, ever the angel, is too sweet to take note of her subtle advances and gazes filled with yearning. he doesn’t know that she’s attempting to flirt when her hand slides a little lower than considered professional during pre-game warm-ups and massages. he can’t tell that she’s pining after him like a high-schooler with a love note tucked behind her back when she makes sure that he has his water bottle and extra electrolytes first whenever isagi has training. nor does he notice that she clings to his sweaty towels for a little too long after he’s handed them off to her. 

isagi is so nice, so oblivious — just like when you met. just like when you made moves on him back then. he doesn’t know what a simple tilt of his head during conversation does to a girl — the type where he’s trying to listen in and seem attentive. he’s unfamiliar with his own game and charm, oblivious to his gravitational pull and ability to make people fall for him the way you did, hard and fast without even realising you were about to hit the ground. all because yoichi was there the catch you, free-falling with you through the love in the air.

it’s possible that hana doesn’t know about you and isagi — he’s a show off, always touching you subtly, searching for your eyes across the way, throwing you secretive smiles during interviews… but you’ve been together so long that you’ve begun to hide the precious parts of your relationships away from the public. aside from passing social media posts and the odd rumour about your togetherness… only the people most important to you know that you’re still a couple now. so maybe she doesn’t know. maybe she has no clue. 

maybe that’s why she cuddles up to him before the snack table, pulls that typical move by pretending to have one too many sips of high-end alcohol so she has an excuse to sway on her feet and steady herself against your partner’s sturdy frame.

you let her bask in the interaction for now, because while you know in your head and by your own logic that isagi would never betray you for someone else — your heart rears it’s ugly head, the blood in your veins turning a nasty shade of green as it courses through your body. it makes you question whether you should be mad at her or mad at him, who will be on the receiving end of the plot being spun in your mind like a spider forming its web.

a cruel, twisted smirk tugs on the corners of your perfectly glossed lips before you knock back the last of the golden liquid swirling around in your champagne flute. from across the room, hazy ocean eyes slink away from the girl who is no more than a coworker to their owner in order to meet yours. midnight blue flickers to life with love, drinks in the dress that matches them and wraps around your perfect body. isagi’s lips quirk up into a subtle smirk, one that hides his layers of want for you. one that tells you that you’re still the only one on his mind no matter who he’s with. 

and you know then, that yoichi isagi will be your victim tonight. 

set to receive a curious mix of both punishment and reward that he’s sure to enjoy after such a hard day’s work, of being the best in every sense of the word.

isagi always looks most handsome when he’s concentrating. 

during a game, something switches within him. he becomes a beast of untapped talent and potential that shines across the field like a polished diamond. his eyes are often wild, set ablaze with a cool fire that burns his enemies alive. when the pro player is focused, no matter what it’s on, his expression will often send a pang of heat straight through you — the way his tongue often pokes into his cheek, causing it to bulge, and brows furrow at the centre of his forehead, azure eyes darkening as they analyse whatever task he’s paying attention to. 

after the party tonight, the two of you headed straight back to your private suite rented out courtesy of ego and anri for the team. isagi would have joined you in the shower, he loves to see you undress and feel your skin against his, but his mind was racing from the match that had been won with his goals. ever the analyst, he has to watch the game through to pick apart the plays from both he and his team. so while washing up, you leave him to concentrate on his replays — trying to scrub away the irrational jealousy wrapping around your brain stem and crawling down your spine.

however, the scorching hot water does nothing to wash the feeling away. when you return to the room and isagi lounging away in the love seat by the balcony, he hardly looks your way — wrapped up in his phone, perfectly toned thighs twitching every time he sees a perfect play, his tie loose around his thick neck and tux half shrugged off. the digitalised final minutes of his match capture every ounce of his attention  and you can’t help but wonder if his mind is elsewhere. aside from the sports. you’re so used to being the centre of his world, the only one he looks at that you worry he could be thinking of her tonight instead of you. reminiscing the way her fingers glided over his biceps to steady herself after her faked drunk stumbling.

it makes you sick to your stomach, how jealous you are when there’s no need to be. you trust yoichi and you know that if the roles were reversed, he would trust you too. padding deeper into the room, you become hyper aware of the carpet beneath your toes that curl into it and the way yoichi’s shirt sticks to your damp body — the fabric growing heavy as a result of the water from your shower that seeps into it. fidgeting before him, you note that your senses are heightened by unpleasant emotions of anxiousness and irritation, and clear your throat to speak. 

this doesn’t grab your boyfriend’s attention either. so you cough louder before you voice your thoughts and feelings. “she likes you, yanno,” you hum, feigning nonchalance as you perch yourself on the arm of isagi’s chair. you throw your legs over the edge of the rest, feet falling into his lap. the star player says nothing but raises a brow in acknowledgment. he’s listening in now, whether he believes you or not. “hana, she’s got a major thing for you.” you go on, frowning with your lips drawn into a pout.

regrettably, this piques isagi’s interest — one hand reaching for his sports drink with a straw as the other holds his phone steady. “no she doesn’t. she’s just being friendly?” confusion curls around his heart as he chews on the paper straw, inevitably turning it to mush between perfect rows of pearly white teeth. a poor attempt at avoiding his plush lips sucking on the straw is made, heating you up under the collar. for a moment, you forget that you’re mad and irritated, too enamoured by how attractive your boyfriend is even while doing the mundane. 

you must be pulling a face, a discontented one, because isagi sets his drink down and smooths his palm over your bare calf to keep you in place — making sure you don’t topple backwards over the edge of the seat. he’s paying attention now – trying to decipher whether or not you’re being bratty or you’re genuinely upset. “she brings you extra protein shakes when you’re not supposed to have them, and schedules you extra physical therapy sessions even though you don’t need them...” you scoff as though your observations are the most obvious thing in the world, playing into yoichi’s concern for you. “haven’t you noticed that? it’s weird…” 

when he shakes his head ‘no’, you petulantly snatch his drink away from the table beside you both and take a sip, the dark haired player’s cerulean eyes trailing to your lips around your straw and the way your adam’s apple faintly bobs in your throat. it clicks for him then, the way you’re subtly teasing him under the guise of being upset – you always know how to keep him on his toes, his precious little menace. 

you’re not really mad. just a little bit jealous… and all you really want is to be spoiled with his attention.

yoichi clicks the power button on his phone, tossing the sleek black device onto the table. he looks at you then, gaze mirthy and amused as the rough palm of his hand slowly makes its way up to your thigh – squeezing the doughy, exposed flesh in his own form of reassurance. “and that’s not being friendly? she does the same for bachira.”

there’s an annoyingly condescending lilt to the tone of isagi’s voice now that his attention is fully on you. you’ve started a dangerous game in an attempt to prove yourself as number one in yoichi isagi’s heart. the ghost of his touch slipping under the shirt that you wear, moving from your thigh to pinch the fat at your hips – it makes saliva pool on your tongue, makes your vision swim, nearly distracting you from your mission to re-stake your claim on the star player.

he cocks his head up at you, squinting to see if your resolve will crumble just like he does with an opponent on the field. 

“that’s only because he pesters her for special treatment too and he’s your best friend,” you squirm as though you’re a creature being inspected under a microscope, turning your nose up at your boyfriend. “do you think i was being friendly with you when i was sneaking into your locker rooms during practices to spend extra time with you?” lifting a hand, you ruffle his hair.

isagi shakes the dark locks of his bangs from his eyes, a deep chuckle rumbling in the depths of his chest and right through you. for a moment, he pretends to think – reminiscing about all of the secret make-out sessions that took place during the early days of your relationship. 

“you weren’t?” 

“i wasn’t, i was flirting with you.” you roll your eyes in response, ignoring the flutter in your heart at the sound.

faux surprise spreads across the slopes of his features like a filter at your reply and he tuts mockingly, as if to scold your scandalous behaviour back then. as if he didn’t thrive in it, adoring how you so boldly went after him. “and look where that got us…” yoichi’s voice drops into a lower octave and maintains a breathiness that drives you insane, brushing over that patch in your brain that controls your lust and acts as the epicentre for your desire. you know that voice, you’ve become so familiar with it over the years – falling under its control under the moonlight and just before the sunrise, tangled up in sheets or pressed against walls. it’s the very voice isagi uses whenever he wants or craves you, matching the energy whenever you want him to.

in one sudden movement, yoichi’s using his grip on your hips to tug you into his widespread lap from the arm of the chair. his chin juts upwards in your direction, practically begging for a kiss once you’re settled – plump pink lips spread into a hungry, lopsided smirk. daring and dangerous, coaxing you to take exactly what you want from the man before you.

you do just that, patience wearing thin as your fingers wrap around his loose black tie – giving you the leverage to tug him into a slow, wet kiss. it’s not like the two of you haven’t ever kissed like this before, but even after all this time – your tummy still fills with a myriad of butterflies whenever your lips meet. they fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. blue lock’s shining star locks lips with you so tenderly that you hardly notice his tongue prying your mouth open, licking over the barrier of your teeth to taste you before he’s squeezing your waist in his lap – anything to get you to gasp and let him in.

the way he touches you, kisses you, sucks on your tongue as soon as he’s able to is intoxicating – casting a dark veil over your brain to trap the static and prevent you from thinking about anything else aside from him. not that you care, not that you mind…because you know isagi is equally as infatuated with you as you are with him. the two of you have always been like this, perfectly balanced in your obsession with one another. saliva is swapped between you, fed to you by isagi as he licks into the hot cavern of your drooly mouth – pouring his increasingly desperate moans into you. you wonder if he tastes the bitter jealousy pooling on the palette of your tongue, if that’s what draws him into you, makes him suck the spit from the writhing pink muscle and press himself impossibly closer – nose nudging yours throughout the eager rhythm of your airless exchange of bruising pecks.

if you try to breathe in between kisses, the only thing you’ll be able to intake is him. his scent, musky and woody, the whisky seeping through his pores. the level of desire you have for him is too much for your body to handle, threatening to burst at the seams as lust brews under the heated surface of your skin – intertwined with red blood cells shooting through your veins, travelling south. you flinch as your sex pulses to life in isagi’s lap, pathetically wet from how good he sounds mewling between slow, carefully placed smooches. you’d feel ashamed, but there’s no time to be when your boyfriend is so intune with your body, quickly catching onto the blazing neediness that sets your insides alight from the way you instinctively buck down on him. he smirks against the swell of your lips, using his hold on your waist to show you that he feels the same – pinning you onto his growing erection, hard and weighty between your damp thighs.

before the two of you can get too carried away, entirely too turned on from making out like two teenagers – you pull back with spit-glazed lips and hazy eyes. “...and look where it’ll get her if she keeps this up...” 

isagi pouts at the separation, unconsciously chasing your mouth – almost letting out a whimper when you purposely hold yourself out of his reach. “f-fuck i… i don’t want to end up anywhere with her. i only have eyes for you. i only like you.” he says firmly, like it’s a promise – grinding up against you in an attempt to get you to give into him.

“just like?” you tease him happily. 

“love. i love you.” he huffs with faux annoyance.

jealous nights will usually end like this. with you surrendering yourself just to end up with isagi ramming you through the mattress, proving the extent of his desire and dedication to you…but this time, you want to be the one to remind him where he and who he belongs to.

at his admission, however, you feel a wave of cuteness aggression inside that twists deliciously with the pleasure beginning to form knots deep within and reach out for him; pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “you’re perfect, yoichi isagi. you’re precious.” 

“i could say the same about you, baby.” isagi groans possessively once he realises your light affections are all he’s getting for now. in a last ditch effort, his slender fingers curl around the nape of your neck – not to choke you, but to remind you of his presence and the sheer control he has over your body – loyal to him and him alone. all he wants is a kiss, to bask in the sweet flavours and reminiscent alcohol dancing on your tongue but you have other plans. 

dipping your head, you latch onto his unsuspecting earlobe – pulling it between your teeth whilst your lashes flutter against the side of his face. you move on, sucking just underneath the same spot and relishing in the way his pulse races beneath your cherry-bitten lips. the unmarred, golden expanse of this throat becomes your next victim, soon to become the perfect canvas for a barrage of purpley-blue hues in the form of love bites. all isagi can do in response is whine and moan salaciously as you mark him up, make him yours. all while rutting his hardness into you, inevitably smearing early evidence of his arousal against the inside of his now-wrinkled suit pants. 

“p-precious, what are you doing?” sex crazed hormones begin to drift into the air, rattling about and colliding with kinetic energy as isagi begins to question you breathlessly. In all actuality, he doesn’t care, surrendering his body to your command and control.

“nothin.” you purr coyly, letting go of his neck with a wet pop.

“doesn’t feel like nothin to me…oh, okay. c-christ, okay.” he tilts his head back, allowing you more room to work our magic on the column of his throat – biting down hard on the sensitive spots you’ve familiarised yourself with over the years. like his favourite, just above his adam’s apple, the one that makes him buck up impulsively and hiss when is pulsating cock brushes against the sticky outline of your clothed folds. he sighs out in content, voice deep and ladened with enough lust to send an electric current of ecstasy right through you. “b-baby,” yoichi pants restlessly, arching away from the back of the chair, willing to receive anything you have to give to him. “y-you know, ego won’t like it if you leave anything that shows…”

and still, neither of you can find it within you to care. not when you’re like this, hung up on each other, barely holding back. “don’t care. b’sides, you like it…” your tongue rolls over the fresh bruises you’ve left on him, soothing their sting as you speak. “hey, ‘ichi?”

he’s too dazed and turned on to form proper words, blue lock’s precious number one falling to pieces drunkardly looking down at you pressed up against his chest. “hmm?” comes his lazy hum.

“lift up your shirt.” 

“wh—“ 

“i know that you see yourself as mine, but let me show everyone else that you’re mine,” isagi fucking adores you. you were always meant to be his and he was always meant to be yours. even on the field, playing his first love, he’s sure hasn’t been anyone quite able to match his ego and freak in the same way that you do. so he can’t say no to you, not when you’re pleading, aching to show him off and make it known that he is the centre of your world. slowly, he relents, undoing the last few buttons of his pressed-cotton dress shirt so that he can take the flailing ends of the material between his teeth. the both of you share a haughty groan as isagi reveals his blistering hot skin to the cool, airconditioned room. washboard abs contract under your greedy hands as you smooth over his lean frame – defined by the hard work he does on the pitch every day.

you inch your way down his body, leaving a trail of wet kisses and sloppily placed hickies in your wake until you’re able to sink onto your knees between his spread thick thighs. the entire time, you keep your eyes locked on his – never shying away or backing down, staring straight into mirthy ocean blue because you know just how much isagi loves it when you keep your eyes on him, when you look at him with those sweet puppy dog eyes. like he’s the only thing that exists in your world.

in all your years together, you’ve come to know that yoichi isagi is much more of a giver than he is a receiver. you learned that very quickly and in the most appetisingly sinful ways possible. he’s always quick to go down on you, to taste you, gets a kick out of being the only one to put his mouth on you and know the best way to make you cum on his tongue. you wonder if he’d like the reverse treatment tonight. since, when you do actually get to give him head, he’s extra sensitive.

your cunt flutters at the idea of what’s to come, but you push down your own selfish wants and needs to focus on the man panting in anticipation above you. “yoichi,” you sigh, licking your lips once your knees are firmly planted on the floor — their wet surface coasting over his toned stomach as it contracts felicitously. “wanna suck you off. i’m going to suck you off.” 

isagi sucks in a breath, slumping back in the seat and running a hand through his disheveled hair. “yeah? you are?” he leers down at you languidly, his eyes darkening virulently — their cobalt shine dimming as though a storm cloud has raged forward to block out all forms of sunlight emitting from your happy-go-lucky boyfriend. his switch has been flipped and you’re the only one to blame. “right now?” 

you pout and nod preciously, resting the chub of your cheek on his twitch thigh before you drag the pinkish tip of your tongue over his perfectly pressed black slacks. “i mean it, yoichi,” he thinks you’re so cute like this, assertive. possessive. a carnal hankering for Japan’s best striker tearing through your body with unspeakable force. “right now.”

“alright, alright,” isagi raises his hands in joking defence, bright laughter brewing from deep within, before he cups your face to capture your gaze — watching you with pride as your mouth accepts the thumb that glides over your bottom lip. “you know, you don’t have to. i don’t want you to think that i need sex to be reminded of how much i love you—” he’s reassuring with his words, because the pro player would never want to make you feel used over some slight jealousy but his concern quickly joins your melting pot of lust fuelled emotions when you suck down on his thumb. hard.

a teaser of what’s to come. 

nestling yourself back on your haunches, you beam up at the soccer player with sweet eyes that occasionally shoot down to his now, very prominent, pulsating erection as he manspreads a little more in place. the sight makes your mouth water and a hungry whine lodge itself in the base of your throat too. “i want to,” you say. “i want you.”

“you want me, huh?” he presses down on your tongue with an air of both fascination and condescension about him, enjoying your struggle as you lightly gargle around the rough pad of his digit and earning a saccharine simper from you. “well… that’s nice to know, precious,” isagi coos to you slyly, the slightest crack in his voice hinting at his slowly crumbling composure. the way he yearns for you, even while playing cool, will never cease to make you melt — at the end of the day he craves your attention in the same way you long for his. it’s a delightful dynamic that never leaves either of you undesired because you know each other down to the dark depths of your souls, only fuelling the passion that buzzes between you and keeps your borderline obsessive relationship alive. “tell me more, let me hear it… let me see it, baby…”

pulling from the addictive, wet cavern of your mouth, isagi drags his saliva slicked thumb over your cupid’s bow — smudging it over the corners of your lips with a satisfied hum. it almost sounds like he’s begging, pleading with you to fan at the flames of debauchery circulating through his bloodstream — setting his body alight with bright white lust. like throwing wood or gasoline on an open fire, he wants you to feed his ego, stroke it until he’s certain that he’s the only one on your mind. the only one you’d die for and heaven knows you’d sing isagi’s praises until your final breath. 

with your entire body bristling with joy and underlying pleasure at his intimate gestures, you keen into his firm thighs and chase the touch of his fingertips like a good girl. “i always do. i want you in every way. want you to know that you’re mine…” you bleat earnestly, as though you’re stating an obvious fact. “and i want other people to know that too…” 

instinctively, your lips part to reveal the thick web of drool that ties the roof of your mouth the your tongue. to see you like this, on your knees with a raging appetite does something insane to isagi’s ego, something of a power trip. it reminds him of how good he must be to get you so riled and fucked up over a girl he hardly cares about. practically salivating with the dire need to selfishly keep him all to yourself. in your heart of hearts you’ll be the only one for him until the day he fades from this earth, but still, you feel an urge to prove that to him. 

maybe it’s a little fucked up and twisted that he enjoys it, maybe it’s a little sinister that he’s basking in the way your eyes form heart shapes while you admire him from below — like he’s some kind of god who’s cock you want to serve and worship.

the foundations of your relationship with isagi might be loving and healthy — the happiest you’ve ever been with a partner in your life…but it's woven together by strong threads of slightly unhealthy, unhinged monomania that neither of you care to get rid of any time soon. especially now that your lover is  hanging over you, starry eyed and rosy cheeked about to fuck your mouth in some lavish hotel room in a foreign country. you love this. you thrive on it.

“come back to me, precious. don’t wander too far,” isagi’s freehand once abandoned on the fabric arms of the chair takes yours, intertwining your fingers and guiding them over the bulge outlined in the dark material of his dress pants, sucking in a sharp breath when you begin to paw at him by your own will. “fuck… that’s what you do to me, baby. that’s all you. no one else,” his admission sends a shockwave of pleasure straight to your clit and coaxes you into the dark, inebriating enigma that is isagi yoichi, clouding your mind and expelling any thoughts you may have from your mind. he clicks his fingers before your dilated eyes, voice low and sexy when he speaks. “you’re so pretty when you’re not paying attention, baby. thought you wanted all of mine…c’mere, suck my cock like you said you would. i wanna watch, wanna show you how i only have eyes for you.” 

you feel dizzy, like you’ve fallen under a spell that you never want to wake from. “all me?” your voice is quiet, raspy from the lust that you feel as your dainty hand roughly rubs at his dick print, back and forth, back and forth. god, you might really kill him. isagi. he might die here with you smiling up at him every time he twitches to life underneath your fingertips and he’d die happy. 

and when you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his clothed cock, he thinks he might have seen god. “all you, precious. just you…” blue lock’s diamond in the rough races to finish his sentence, unable to fight his instinct to kiss you. appease you. pacify all of your doubts and worries and jealousy. he relents, giving into you — licking past the seams of your swollen lips, just enough to leave you wanting more, blur the thoughts in your brain and put your mind at ease. isagi dangles himself and his body in front of you like a worshiper offering up a sacrificial lamb to the gods, to keep you wanting him and boosting his ego.

that way, you dance around each other, light on your toes, breathing new life and excitement into your relationship no matter who or what comes your way. it works; not that you’d expect anyone outside of the two of you to understand your functional dysfunctionality. 

palming him harder and faster, you smooth a finger over the outline of your boyfriend’s leaky tip and watch hungrily as precum seeps through material – effectively darkening it, and earning yourself petulant moans and whines from isagi. pretty sounds that just barely escape through perfect gritted teeth. its impossible not to adore the way that the star player, so strong and confident, trembles above you – going as far to pet your pretty head to ground himself ( never to push your head down, he knows you don’t like that). he grows impatient, struggling to breathe, struggling with the idea of not fucking up into your mouth just yet. you’re torturing yoichi and he loves it, following you into the dark depths of hell.

“i love you like this yoichi; only i get you like this,” you moan, evilly, lowly and tauntingly between his legs, knowingly pushing the pro player beyond his limits. “not her, only i can be the one to taste you. that’s why i’m yours and you’re mine.” between each word, you mouth hotly at his sticky, clothed cockhead – the condensed, temperate air seeping through the barriers of fabric that keep you from him.

you want him to admit it. to say that it’s true. you belong to each other.

subsequently, isagi’s head drops forward, a mop of blackened hair falling over his covetously clouded eyes – pupils blown as the sunkissed surface of his bare chest glistens with a light sheet of sweat. “f-fuck,” the soccer star curses quietly, the volume of his voice just high enough for you to hear.  “only you. you’re the only one. p-please precious. c-can i have your mouth on my cock now?”

that’s all you need to hear before you’re leaping forward like a lioness who’s finally chosen her prey. “take it off for me?” whilst you busy yourself with peeling back the final two layers of your boyfriend’s clothes, without much care for their fine craftsmanship – isagi, ever the sweetheart, does some of the work for you and fiddles with the belt cinched around his unfairly slender waist. he makes quick work of it too, hanging onto your every sugary word as the metal buckle clinks in your ears and his hips are set free from their clothed confines.

you leave intentionally placed love bites and hickies against his pelvis as his pants and boxers come down, knowing that they’ll sting with the reminder of you during his next match. then your tongue tangles in the dark curls of his happy trail, honeyed laughter echoing in your throat when isagi’s drippy girth finally comes into view. the entirety of him slaps against his shimmering, rock hard abs once enough of him is revealed to the world, spasming rhythmically as a result of the fresh, air-conditioned atmosphere.

not that you’ve had much to compare it to, but you’re sure that yoichi isagi has the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. he’s thicker than he is long, yet the perfect size to keep you satisfied almost daily and plugged full of cum where it counts. contrastingly, his balls are round, plump, full of an ungodly amount of seed reserved only for you and the parts of your body he thinks it’ll look best on. viscous, opaque precum beads at the slit on his tip, ready to be sampled.

and you do just that, leaning forward without using your hands and kitten licking the saltine stream of his essence from his mushroomed cockhead that burns a painful shade of crimson red – completely flushed from your earlier ministrations. it shines sinfully as though its been glossed like your lips. not to mention, the veins that spiral decoratively all the way down isagi’s meaty shaft rival the colour of his azure eyes and pulsate with the lustful blood rush from his brain. you take care with your touch, keeping it tender as you wrap your dainty digits around him, flesh to flesh for the first time that night – circling the pad of your thumb over his sensitive tip, smearing precum through it’s sticky slit sweetly.

“y’so pretty, yoichi…” you say through a pleased shudder, misty bambi eyes flickering from his length in your hands to his handsome face – twisted in ecstatic-like agony. 

god, he smells like heaven, is all you can think as you slap your boyfriend’s thick dick against the palette of your tongue rolling over your bottom lip. a heavy musk mixed with blades of freshly cut grass fills your nose, drifts over your brain like a concentrated fog wafting through a swamp – acting like the fumes of a sleep gas that dampen your ability to control your own consciousness. you become hyperaware of everything, the carpet brushing harshly against your bare knees, the weight of him against your tongue and the same tip of your tongue that writhes against the backs of your teeth, yoichi’s shaking thighs and how he throbs in your grip.

starting nice and slow, you jerk the parts of isagi not resting on your tongue – a series of wrecked and strained sighs catching on the ridges of his throat when you adjust your hold on his dick, your slick palm pressing into prominent forked veins that wrap around his shaft. “yeah, says you,” his breathing falters barely, managing to counter your compliment,  “i’m all yours. do what you want with me…” the air in his lungs grows scarce and thin like he’s been tossed into the depths of space and lost himself to the darkness of his own debauched mind, when you shake your head from side to side – slurping down whatever paints the pink of your strawberry tongue with opaque white.

its nearly too much for isagi, the threat of bursting prematurely into your mouth, looming over him. so he does what any man should do before getting head from their precious girl. before you can move to take him into your mouth fully, just as you have done many times before, warm breath coasting along his chubby cock – the soccer star swoops down once more, capturing your awaiting mouth in a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss.

yoichi sucks his own flavour from every inch of your tongue, making you mewl muffledly in surprise. you know his body all to well, you’re familiar with what makes him tick and what has him creaming in a matter of a few measly minutes – but tonight, he wants to hold off, savour the special treatment you give him, giving you the time and attention you need to ( unnecessarily ) prove your position to him. where isagi is number one in japan’s soccer league – you are number one in his heart and mind. a fact that he is proud to know.

you giggle against puffy lips that smack lewdly against yours, choosing to palm him instead of giving him head for time time being. his dick jumps to life at the gentle movement, spewing milky white against your knuckles while you form a closed fist around him. “gonna make you cum, ‘ichi. that’s what i’m gonna do with you,” you state like its obvious, or at least try to, between selfish kisses and the lubricous sounds your hand makes as it glides up and down your boyfriend’s cock – wet from where you’ve been toying with and licking at him. your movements are also aided by the globes of precum that drip down to his balls from time to time.

“god… that’s all i wanna do. fill that pretty mouth with my cum, watch you swallow it…” isagi rasps with finality before breaking the kiss and pulling back to sit at attention. he stares down at you through unfairly long and dark lashes, obsidian black engulfing the assure in eyes as you drag your smooch swollen over the cream he leaks one last time. “can i do that? please, precious?” 

the begging combined with the baritone register to isagi’s voice makes your skin crawl in the best of ways — clearing your mind so that all you think about is him. his power over you despite his dick being at the mercy of your wet lips and gentle touch is something to be studied. instead of verbally responding, you let the physicality of your actions speak for themselves — leaning forward, you take your boyfriend down your throat with practised ease, sinking down on him until his bulbous cockhead just barely grazes the back of your throat and your nose is tickled by his faint happy trail.

a symphony of soggy whimpers and lewd gargling noises tangle with the thick smog of lust in the air, isagi’s head collapsing back against the head of the chair — midnight blue locks tousled against the furniture, sitting perfectly out of place. 

your tongue molds against the curve in yoichi’s cock, flexing the pink muscle as it swirls from his chubby base up to his seedy tip. “fuuuck me, baby. always forget how fuckin’ good your mouth feels,” the sensation leaves isagi unable to open his eyes, rendered useless as you lick and suck at him to your heart’s content — he just barely manages to lift a shaky hand, lovingly rubbing over one of your cheeks as it bulges with his girth before moving to pet your head. your gaze flickers up and the all-star soccer player lets out a heaving laugh. “d-don’t worry… ‘m not gonna push you down. i’d never… never do that to you,” it’s too soon, to be this fucked up and high on ecstasy... but you’ve always had that affect on him. that ability to make isagi see stars before the night has even begun. your shiny gaze and chubby cheeks so full of him only amplify his feelings, abs clenching to stave off a premature high. “need to feel you, g-ground myself a little…shit, you’re so perfect.”

at the praise, a gentle hum from you reverberates around isagi’s cock, causing a lightening strike of dopamine to spark in the little space between his brain and his skull — dazing him. “you’re so good t’me, precious. how could i ever look at someone the way i look at you?” he drawls, wiping a trace of drool from the corner of your mouth. “my good girl, on her knees, taking me so well.”  notes of paise are lavishly layered over the whiny lilt to your boyfriend’s voice, only pushing you to work harder — basking in the rewarding feeling of knowing that you’re the only one to have him like this. 

hollowing your cheeks in the way you know he likes, you swallow him down and your throat contracts to tackle his thickness, until his sticky mushroomed tip is just barely brushing over your uvula. you were each other’s firsts, isagi’s never had his cock sucked by anyone else nor anyone as talented as you. he’s so glad to have you, someone who cares to pay attention to what he likes and gets him off the quickest. he could never replace you, not when you’re down on your knees keeping him safe in the warmth of your wet and hungry mouth. 

for a moment or two, you lazily bob your head — eyes fluttering sleepily at the heaviness of yoichi against your saliva soaked tongue. it gives you time to taste him, the saltine precum he oozes, sliding down your throat like a viscous lava flow. his flavour is just as enticing as his scent, you’ll never give that up, never let anyone else take this right away from you.

tilting your head to the side, you let isagi shallowly thrust into the soft epithelium of your cheek — a string of colourful curses spilling from his frenzied mouth into the buzzing, sex tainted air. you give and he gives back, every time you gargle on his aching, pulsating cock he treats you with his own airy, pathetic moan. a never ending sinful cycle between the two of you.

“s-shit. such a dirty little trick, precious,” a dirty laughter rings out into the night, fucked up and full of fondness. isagi throws a burly arm over his flushed face, hiding his blush and the shine on his face. “don’t you need to come up for air?” he’s done for, ruined — evident in the way fat beads of sweat begin to bedazzle yoichi’s hairline, soaking through his dark coloured hair. the collar of his white dress shirt darkens as the liquid seeps through, showcasing how much of a mess you’ve made him despite how amused he attempts to appear.

running your tongue over the veins on the underside of his cock, you smile with your dazzlingly pretty eyes and swallow him down to the base once more. “no? didn’t think so… you’re so cock hungry and desperate to prove a point you wouldn’t waste a second without mine in your mouth,” resolve weakened by your tantalising tongue and  gaze, blue lock’s all star player lets his filthy mouth run. every dirty, nasty, sick and twisted thought that comes to mind slips through your ears like treacle in the form of poorly structured sentences. acting just like he would be during a match. the sight and sound of yoichi isagi makes your cunt throb, that familiar feeling beginning to stem in the pit of your stomach. “look so happy with me in your mouth, should… let you suck me off more often,” 

you’d agree if you didn’t have your mouth full, spit and precum running down your chin — glazing your lips like an expensive gloss that can’t go to waste. what you wouldn’t give to be able to worship isagi like this more often… because giving him pleasure, is receiving it too. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely turned on right now, juices basting the seat of your underwear; clit throbbing so ruthlessly that you have no choice but to grind your hips down against the floor to alleviate its ache. one word and isagi would do anything to take care of you, drag you onto his lap and pound up into you. perhaps flip you over in the chair and fuck you until you received noise complaints from the entire floor, not just his team. you’d love that, you both would… but tonight was all about him. 

all about telling him, showing him how he’s the only one that runs through your twisted mind. like a one track horse. and how you should be the only thing that runs through his mind.

even if your lungs burn with the dire need for oxygen, even if your head spins from the lack of air and even if your jaw locks from how long you’ve been deepthroating the soccer star — you won't stop. you can’t stop. not until he’s begging you for mercy and pleading with you to blow his load against your talented tongue or pretty face. everything makes it all worth it, to bring an egoist down a notch, humbling him and reminding him who it is that gives him that boost. isagi is worth it, those striking cobalt eyes fluttering and the pinkish blush blooming across his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. all of it. 

especially when his expression worsens, morphs into agonised bliss. when you draw back, plush lips wrapped around his tip, tauntingly squeeze his cock between slippery fingers and dance down to give the same treatment to his weighty balls — plump and full of cum yet to be unleashed on you. dancing that fine line between pain and pleasure. 

eventually, though, the ache in your chest becomes too much to bare and you pull from isagi’s dripping dick with a lewd pop — panting for air. “you taste so good, yoichi,” you rasp, throat a little sore from blowing him off for so long. “are you gettin’ close?” the innocent cadence to your voice sorely contradicts the iniquitous way that your palm replaces your mouth — stroking yoichi at a strikingly rapid pace. the centre of your hand becomes doused with each movement, covered in a layer of opaque precum that practically pours down your wrist and over your knuckles. 

“so close, baby. you’re gettin’ me so close,” one thing that’s certain, is that isagi will miss this once it’s all over. once the dam breaks and the passionate jealousy cools, he’ll miss the view and your soft hands barely fitting around him. your cute little mouth sucking on him for all he’s worth. “my girl— knows just what to do to get me off. ‘m so lucky, so fucking lucky…” he slurs avidly, chest heaving, throat running dry. yoichi throws his head back, desperately trying to delay his inevitable high so that he can selfishly stay in the moment with you.

but the pleasure mounts like the well cemented bricks of a sturdy house deep within his gut — his insides twist deliciously, epinephrine and pure excitement shooting through his veins addictively. he knows this feeling all too well, that prickling sensation that creeps up on him during a match as well as the puzzle pieces that come into view. it’s the taste of victory, the taste of triumph and euphoria. the soccer star only ever gets this way when he’s on the pitch or when he’s at the mercy of his perfect girlfriend. 

you.

all he needs is a little push to get over the edge, you know that. you can tell by the way he twitches in your soft grip while you continue to jerk him off lovingly. the soccer star instinctively starts to buck into the small fist you make around him — syncing his movements with the flick of your wrist. almost like the perfect play. “so… let go for me, baby. please, let me have you,” you giggle temptingly, regaining your breath. you hardly waste any time, increasing your speed until isagi is reduced to nothing but a puddle between your fingers. it doesn’t make you any better, you’re pawing at his spit slicked cock like it’s your full-time job. 

midnight blue locks fly out of place whilst isagi shakes his head no, adam’s apple bobbing furiously in an attempt to force down beefy cries and greedy gripes. “n-no, not yet. can’t cum yet,” he swears he’s not ready, that he needs to last longer but instantly contradicts himself. taut hips lose control; fucking your hand as though it were your cunt. “don’t stop, precious. don’t you dare fucking stop—!” the tail end of his words die in the night air, twisting into a high pitched wail as you spit down onto the head of his girth. “o-oh god!”

the frothy mix clings to the obvious veins decorating isagi’s chubby dick, oozing down to his balls and base. sliding slowly and then, isagi’s quite literally putty in your hands. milky and heavy when you dip your head, swiping your tongue through his tip, on the verge of making out with it. lapping at whatever he gives you happily. 

encompassing isagi’s shaft in the wetness of your mouth, you work even harder to earn his high. nursing his tip, sensually massaging what doesn’t fit, moaning around him so that the vibrations shoot through him – rattle around the inside of his skull so the only thing he hears and feels is you. by god, does it work, yoichi isagi’s mind is as clear as day – devoid of any and all rational thought except for the puzzle pieces, fragments that piece you together entirely. 

like he would during a soccer match, the fight of his life, he looks for what’s missing – what makes the perfect play and allows him to survive on the field a little longer. chasing that elusive goal and flash bang of adrenaline accompanying the heartbeat in his chest. except this isn’t a match or a friendly football game, this is the dance of strong willed desire that keeps him on his toes. this is the only relationship he’ll ever want and have. you are the key to isagi’s survival, the missing part of his formula to life. 

without you, there is no yoichi isagi. you make up more than half of him. 

and so, as you consume his thoughts, fuck him good and make him see constellations made up by lust-blown stars — the dark haired soccer player realises he won’t ever let you doubt how precious you are to him and he won’t ever let you think that a random girl could ever take your place… because there’s no one else for him in this world aside from you. to him, you’re nothing short of perfection — having your puffy lips wrapped around his sloppy, spit slicked shaft is just an added bonus. 

“gonna make me… lose it, precious,” he gasps between high-pitched moans, sweat dripping down his throat — a single bead running over his adam’s apple like a raindrop on a pane of glass. a theil courses through his system, jolting isagi in place as pick up speed around him — jerking your head up and down, faster and faster. you add your delicate touch back into play, the combination of your flexible and drooling tongue with the way intermittently squeeze his length teases all of your boyfriend’s senses. he can taste how close his orgasm is, feel that pressure build and tingle in all four of his limbs, see the way your cheeks and chin glisten with spit and precum. he’s right on the edge, and if he closes his eyes even for a second — he might miss how quick it all comes crashing down. “ohmygod… i’m close. r-right there… sweet jesus. baby…!”

you know the signs all too well, the tautness to his abs and stomach, fidgeting thighs and the practically sobbed out, laboured breaths that make isagi sound like he’s drowning — locking eyes with you, angsty swirls of ocean blue boring into your soul, he knows that you know he’s about to burst. because your innocent eyes flicker with mirth and well you pull off his bright red cock to speak, never letting up on the relentless flick of his wrist — your pouty lips quirk upwards into a cruel, calculated smirk. “cum in my mouth,” you demand, no room for questioning. “give it to me ‘ichi. make a mess. give me your cum.” he’s rendered incoherent from the pressure, any retort he had planned dissolved into a haze of need while yoichi frantical nods his head in agreement though he knows he wants to cum elsewhere.

in a battle of heart vs mind (or dick versus mind), what be wants you up there with him, kiss him, coaxing him through it — instead he revels in the feeling of his sensitive tip slapping his dick on the flat surface of your tongue. you’re almost ashamed of how wet the connection sounds as the pink muscle writes in place, aching to swallow down all of his cum, pleasuring isagi with all that you can. his face scrunches again, a haughty moan ripping through the tense atmosphere when you experiment with your grip, alternating between gentler touches and a firm hold on the meat of him. his eyes screw shut while he fights little whimpers and moans. isagi always sounds so sexy when he's about to cum — you can hardly get enough. 

a surge of power courses through you as you tear the great egoist to pieces between your teeth and hands working him to the high heavens. your strokes become more insistent, matching the fastness to his uneven breathing. yoichi’s cock throbs rhythmically, forked veins pulsing as happy hormones dart from his brain, down his spine and to his balls aching for release. he’s almost there, walking the tightrope, dancing on a fine line — isagi’s body tightness, muscles stiffening and that’s when his eyes suddenly snap open wildly.  

that’s the final straw for yoichi. the nasty squelch that echoes from your slobbery mouth when his hips instinctively jump up to feed you his cock — “no… no i—” the soccer star stammers, pupils blown until they eclipse the midnight sky trapped in his eyes. his voice is strained, husky, as the world around him threatens to fall away. “fuuuck, that’s it…‘m cummin’… shit. didn’t wanna—” he punctuates his words with sharp, accidental thrusts and the first spurts of viscous and hot seed hit the back of your throat — nearly taking you by surprise. 

you can’t even bring yourself to stop, worshiping isagi’s dick like it’s god’s gift to mankind — peering up at him with blissful hearts dazzling in your eyes because you need him to need you, to love you enough that he’ll keep filling your mouth with his cum. he’s salty, creamy, everything you could ever want and it feels so good to make him tremble and shake above you. you press a hand against his tummy, feeling it tighten under your palm. your mouth is too wet, too hot, too perfect and far too much for him to handle and he crumbles like a tonne of bricks back down to earth. 

just like that, the striker’s orgasm continues to rip through him, painting your mouth a shade of white as his release copiously spurts from his ravaged cockhead. “you gotta… you gotta stop, precious,” isagi heaves your name gently, because he’s still going and he’s far from done. at first, you feel scorned, cheeks and chest burning with embarrassment — did you go too far? is this too much? does he not… want you anymore? but your boyfriend is quick to reassure you, trembling hands lifting from the arms of the chair to cup your shiny, arousal soaked face tenderly. his own painted with a pained and pleading expression. “please come up here baby, need you. still cumming, got me so fucked up.”

letting go of his milky tip, you both greet each other with coy smiles. yoichi holds your face and you keep hold of his hard cock as you carefully crawl into his lap. he instantly guides you into a sloppy open mouthed kiss, simpering against your cum-soaked tongue in release as he sucks his own release off of it. the taste of himself is enough to keep isagi turned on, ploughing roughly into the ‘o’ shape your soft fist forms around him — using your hand like his own personal fleshlight. 

memorised by him, your lips chase after his, your eyes while you pump him through the rest of his plentiful orgasm — little mewls of his name escaping into each warm breath you take between languid lip locks. they’re lazy and dazed, entirely  uncoordinated yet so completely addictive. all you want to do is taste him and all he wants to do is swallow you whole until you’re apart of him — swapping spit, swapping the thickness of his cum that still remains on your tongue.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck… can’t get enough of you. treat me so fuckin’ good…” yoichi trips and stumbles over his words, losing control of his taught hips that wildly grind and thrust into your sloppy palm. thick white oozes over the edge of your knuckles, an endless trail of it seemingly starting at the slit on his bright red tip. everything is a mess —  his body is drenched in sweat, his pants and your bare thighs soaked and stained with cum whilst his eyes borderline shine with tears. and despite it all, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

yoichi isagi is beautiful and he’s all yours.

squeezing the base of your boyfriend’s shaft as if to milk the very last drop of his orgasm out of him, you nudge your nose along the side of his own and press encouraging kisses over his cupid’s bow and swollen lips. you’ve broken him in, made sure he’ll never so much as look at or have the desire to fuck someone else ever. “mmph… yoichi. keep on cummin’ for me, whatever you have to give. i want it,” the size of him doubles as a second load builds up in his balls, dwarfing your hand that works him up in slow, silky strokes. 

“i love you. fuck, i love you — god!” isagi becomes ravenous for his release and with one final guttural groan he paints your hand and your supple thighs with another round of heavy, white hot cum. his entire body shudders with the force of it, white nose crackling in his ears like static from an old fashioned TV. he feels like he might die, like he can’t breathe because of how much he’s cum by now… but you’re right there with him, foreheads pressed against each other and your lips a breath’s width away from swallowing down exhausted-sounding curse words. 

his head falls to the crook of your neck, ragged breath fanning over your damp skin as yoichi mumbles the syllables of your name like a well rehearsed mantra — spilling seed over your intertwined bodies, tucked into his cramped chair. 

the temperature of the room begins to cool, silence now replacing the buzzing particles of lust that once filled the air. the egoist is still holding you tight, hiccuping incoherent thoughts and broken phrases against your flesh whilst he calms down. eventually, you break the quiet by smooching him softly on the side of his head, the two of you sharing a hushed giggle. “you okay?” you ask attentively, stroking back the mussed sweaty locks of his dark hair.

“mhm…more than; think i got a little carried away,” comes yoichi’s lazy reply before he cautiously leans back, flinching only when you release his sensitive sodden cock from your hold. glistening azure eyes sweep over your face and crinkle at the corner with a bashful smile. your egoist has faded away and your sweetheart boyfriend reappears for the final act. “sorry for pulling you off earlier i just, really really, wanted to kiss you.” 

shaking your head reassuringly, you lift your soiled hand to suck his cream from your fingers — laughing when isagi leans up to lick the reminders of his release from the corner of your mouth dirtily. “i liked it, i think it’s hot how you always wanna taste yourself.” 

“what can i say? it tastes even better when it’s coming from you…” he groans lowly at the sight of you cleaning your hand up, fighting the urge to pull you in for another round. “how’s your jaw, and your knees?” 

“all good,” your cleaner hand scales the length of isagi’s tired body, tracing over patterns of berry purples and midnight blues that have taken the shape of love bites across every inch of his golden skin. evidence of your promise to each other. “hope these aren’t too sore tomorrow…” you add quietly, grinning at your work.

pride washes over him as you draw invisible lines between each bruise, connecting them like constellations. “i like my pleasure with a bit of pain. so, i think they’re perfect,” yoichi states before he takes your wrist in his large hand, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to your pulse point. another silent promise, once that commits his heart to yours for as kind as you’ll have him. “you know how i feel about belonging to you. i am yours as much as you are mine — even if we get a little crazy about it,” there’s hidden meaning in his words, a reference to hana and the jealously that sparked tonight’s raunchy rendezvous. “i love when you show me off, i love when you get like this. i love you all the time. i love you and no one else.” 

even though he’d just spent the better half of an hour moaning, crying and groaning your name — isagi takes the time to address the worries that had led to the events of the evening. he loves you, and will only ever love you. no doe eyed, brand new and sparkly co-worker can change that. you’ve been by his side since the very beginning, he’d be a fool to give up someone as perfect for him as you.

in other words, hana has nothing on you. 

“i love you too,” the butterflies return to your tummy as a bashful heat tingles just beneath the surface of your skin — you distract yourself by closing your eyes and snuggling against yoichi, hiding your face in his bitten and bruised chest. “think she’ll get the memo, though?” you ask, biting back another round of sleepy laughter.

“oh, i think she absolutely will.” isagi chuckles as his own eyes drift shut, resting his chin atop your head affectionately. 

damn right she will. 

BONUS:

you can’t get down to the pitch fast enough, and of course, hana beats you to it. 

in the second half of what’s supposed to be a friendly warm-up match before the next game, isagi is practically bulldozed over by a member of the opposing team. tensions are high, a perfectly calculated goal swiped from right between his feet fades into nothingness and your precious boyfriend is writhing in pain between freshly trimmed blades of grass and asphalt. as if acting on pure instinct, your legs move before your mind does and you’re darting from your seat in the stalls with other blue lock girlfriends and family members to be by the egoist’s side without even realising.

the tip of your toe just barely makes it onto the grass by the time hana is cosying up to yoichi, his head in her lap, beautiful face contorted with discomfort while she innocently inspects his body for any signs of injury. of course she gets to him first. this is practically the better half of her job but even after your night with isagi, that doesn’t mean you’ve learned to trust her too.

and so, you end up trotting behind the pair and the medical team as they manoeuvre your boyfriend off the pitch. you visibly cringe when hana insists that she ‘handle him from here’ as they go. some of the boys laugh at that, you think. 

“that was quite the fall you took there, yoichi, do you… mind if i take a look?” she asks him in a sickly sweet tone, the kind that gives you a toothache or makes your stomach twist like you’ve had too much sugar. she’s dying to give him a pat down, you think, entirely too close to him now that they’re settled in the medical bay. “it’ll only take a second.”

yoichi shrugs, twitching to get back out there and into the game. back out there to show off for you, make you proud. “sure.”

a little frown tugs on hana’s lips whilst she stands before him, he’s colder than usual but continues her work — tipping and tapping at the parts of the star player she thinks are injured. “any pain in your ankle?” 

“nope.” 

“knee?”

“nah.” 

“shoulder?”

“feels good…” the blue eyed striker interjects, patience wearing slightly thin. “are we almost done here?” 

isagi rolls his shoulder experimentally to double check his own pain levels but just as he lifts his arm, hana presses down on his ribcage — nodding to herself once the pro player hisses uncomfortably. “ribs,” her hand slips dangerously low. “hips too. take off your shirt, we might need to put some muscle gel on there if we want to get you back out there!” 

it could all be in his head, the slight bite of excitement nestled deep within her high pitched, candied voice. she’s just doing her job. she’s just being nice… but after all that you and isagi discussed ( or at least attempted to, with his dick in your mouth for most of the evening ), he can’t help but let his suspicions grow. even still; yoichi does as he’s told, slowly rolling up two layers of polyester and spandex ( from his football jersey and compression shirt )  to reveal his perfectly carved, marbled body to underlyingly hungry eyes. 

a gasp rips through the quietness of the medical bay, not the reaction both isagi nor hana were looking for. where blue lock’s number one was expecting actual medical advice, she was expecting injured but otherwise golden delicious skin, her greedy gaze meet’s yoichi’s bruised and bitten flesh, a trail of slightly swollen love bites extend from his neck and collar bones, over his chest and between plush pecs, all the way down to his pelvis and probably beyond…

hana’s cheeks immediately flush, her gaze averting isagi’s bright ocean eyes and hands immediately pulling away from his body. “o-oh my god… i-isagi where did you get all of those bruises?” she feigns surprise. they both know she’s not stupid. anyone with an active sex life and enough common sense can tell that yoichi isagi is covered in hickies.

what she means to ask is… who did this to you? 

a personal question with an answer she doesn’t really want to know — one that’ll shatter her heart and whatever fantasy she had of herself and pro player in her head. a stupid crush squashed before her very own eyes. 

an awkward silence fills the room, only broken by the light humming of the artificial white lights hanging up above. yoichi grins sheepishly, at least that’s what it seems like to hana, rubbing the back of his neck as if to soothe an embarrassed heat that blossoms there. “oh well… my girlfriend gave them to me...” he laughs lightly, crinkles forming happily at the corners of mirthy blue eyes. what she doesn’t know is how intentional isagi can be. how he likes to see an opponent squirm like an insect under a microscope during a challenge. you see, he’s realised it now, put the pieces together. if it hadn’t been for you staking your claim on him, hana probably would have made a move. too bad he’s only got tunnel vision for you. “we must have gotten carried away, she loves to see me play, yanno?” he adds with another bout of sweet laughter. “she was in the stands earlier, wearing my number. she’s the cutest thing.” 

recognition sparks across hana’s face. the last piece of the puzzle falling into place a little too late. she knows who you are, of course. you’ve always been around. always clinging onto isagi. she just never… her entire body writhes in place, tense and humiliated — doing her best to chuckle along with the soccer star seated before her. 

yoichi knows that he’s being a little mean, doing all this. putting on a show. subtly declaring his love for you. but he’s setting a boundary that should have been put in place a long time ago and by the way you look at him as you slip silently into the room — eyes so full of love and appreciation, he can tell he’s doing a good job. he’s reaffirmed his love for you in the most meaningful way and that’s all that matters to him.

he doesn’t care for hana, not in the way he does for you and he probably never will. that should have been made clear from the very start.

“i’m sure… i’m sure the two of you make a great couple a-and i bet you look great together!” hana stutters, finally looking isagi in the eye as she sweeps her jealously under the rug. “she’s lucky to have found you…” she mutters the last part under her breath, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

but isagi isn’t looking at her and he does notice, instead choosing to stay focused on the point over her shoulder where you stand — ocean eyes and stormy gaze lasered in on you and only you. he notes the relief that washes over your worried body language once you know that he’s truly okay. not to mention the subtle quirk in your lips as you give him an angelic smile. he can’t help but mirror it, truly enamoured by you, amused at himself and how he gets tunnel vision just by looking at you. 

“i know we do and i’m the lucky one, she loves unconditionally,” isagi states like his word is fact, because to him, it is. you’re the only thing that matters in this world, his biggest blessing to date.  “i will only ever have eyes for her.”

end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED © TTEOKDOROKI 2020-26. all fanfics & layouts belong to me. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai, or recommend elsewhere.

[narcjsistx]

— YOU SHOULDN’T BE TANGLED HERE !

ও sae itoshi x fem!reader ; clearly inspired by the movie "tangled" that is my favorite since i was a baby ᥫ᭡

It wasn’t normal. It absolutely wasn’t normal.

Although the morning had started well, with pleasant sunlight pouring into the room through the large window, you had actually had a night full of nightmares. Not particularly terrible nightmares, things like getting stuck for hours on the hook your mother used to climb up and down the tower, but strange and depressing enough not to let you sleep for even a second.

You thought the sun today would improve your morning at least a little, and if you were lucky enough, your mother would come back with your favorite berries. The sun had actually made you get out of bed with a little more enthusiasm, but paradoxically it had also put you in this abnormal situation.

You had simply wanted to open the tower’s main window to make the room even brighter, however, when you leaned out you clearly saw someone climbing toward you using arrows. You firmly believed he hadn’t seen you leaning out, so focused was he on climbing and not falling, but you?

You had clearly seen him.

And here you were now, holding a frying pan, with a person, actually the first one in your life besides your mother, sitting in front of you, tangled up in your hair. You had never actually seen anyone before, and your mother had always been clear in explaining to you that everyone out there was horrible. This man certainly was too, because what right did he have to enter someone else’s tower? And besides, why would he have that crown in his bag? You knew your mother had all the knowledge in the world in her head, and apparently she was right when she said that people were horrible. Yet, however strange the situation was, everything was now under your control. At least, apparently. Enough for you to breathe a little more calmly.

His hair, unlike yours, was cut short and carefree, a reddish color similar to the one you used to paint the sunrise on the walls. He was clearly a man, physically different from you and your mother, much taller than you had expected from how you had seen him while he was climbing. With your frying pan you had given him a solid blow, and although the concept of death was somewhat foreign to you, for the first few seconds after hitting him you suspected you might have killed him.

Even though you were scared, you checked. He was still clearly breathing, but he hadn’t regained consciousness even after at least half an hour. You sigh, holding the frying pan less tightly in your hands. Everything was under control, even if he regained consciousness, your grip around his body through your hair was far too strong for him to move. You were safe.

At least, that’s what you thought. Suddenly, fear returned to you just in time to see him lift his head and stare at you, frightened. Teal irises were now staring at you, delicate lashes framing the edges of his eyes, which were now intensely scraping at your soul. Something stirs inside you, perhaps from the anxiety of actually meeting new eyes after years and years of absolutely nothing new, or perhaps because there’s something else that you choose to ignore for the moment.

“What…?” the boy whispers, his jaw clenched, probably because of the abrupt awakening or some lingering pain from the earlier blow. Instinctively you point your frying pan at him, taking a step back “Silence!” you shout louder than you actually intended, now gripped by a kind of fear. The boy closes his eyes, trying to move his hands, firmly restrained by your hair. Still somewhat frightened, you watch him struggle in search of freedom, until he finally gives up and looks back into your eyes “Free me” he asks, though to your ears it sounds more like an order. You raise an eyebrow, puzzled “What…?” you ask lowering the pan a little, but he does not relent “I told you to free me” he says, his words laced with an authority he has no right to possess, considering that he is the intruder.

“No…!” you murmur, raising the frying pan again and shocked by his arrogance, which does not waver even after your refusal, in fact, it seems to grow “Who gave you permission to tie me up?” he asks, tilting his head, but you shake yours “And who gave you permission to enter my tower?” you shoot back immediately, though this only seems to irritate him further “That’s what fugitives do” he replies sharply, unable to move but speaking as if he still holds all the authority.

You grow more and more shocked by his behavior, and yet, even though he sounds so arrogant, he doesn’t seem like someone who would physically hurt you. At least not unless he wants another frying pan to his face, a limit you’ve never really set since the moment he entered here. If this boy is a fugitive, what is he running from? And if he is running, that means he comes from outside. He comes from the world hidden beyond these walls that have kept you here for years.

“Where did you put my bag?” he asks, pulling you from your thoughts, and you find yourself shaking your head to clear them away and focus on what’s in front of you “Huh…? Your bag? What do you need it for?” you ask, knowing you placed it just a little behind you. His eyes widen “Give it back. And you should untie me too, thanks” he continues, but it is precisely from his urgency that you realize he truly needs that bag. You take a few steps back, grabbing it without taking your eyes off him. The weight is considerable, and when you dangle it in front of him, something seems to snap inside him. He leans forward, causing the chair to shift slightly. You jump in fright, but from that very gesture, you realize that perhaps you are holding a power even greater than the one your hair already possesses. Your lips part in surprise, then suddenly press together as the thought crosses your mind.

No, that would be too risky. Your mother would come looking for you, and you don’t want to disappoint her or make her angry. However the idea of touching grass, that green expanse that has surrounded you for years, is a desire you have carried within you for as long as you can remember having memories.

How much are you willing to risk to have a crumb of freedom?

You swallow, forcing down a large lump of saliva that holds more worry than liquid. You lower the bag, tying it around your waist, while you don’t dare take your eyes off the boy in front of you, who is now watching you with a certain curiosity “I can give it back to you” you say cautiously, taking a step forward and grabbing a large handful of your hair in your hand, the ones connected to the grip around his neck “But you have to take me with you. From now on” you say, ending up practically in front of him, tilting your face toward his. His eyes lower to look at you from below, until they meet your irises already fixed on him. He clears his throat, showing no sign of discomfort at the closeness, while you’re wondering what on earth you were thinking. Yet, something in the air shifts. You don’t know if it’s the closeness of another person who isn’t your mother, or because you’ve always seen other people’s lips near your cheeks, maybe for a goodnight kiss, but never your own lips. Yet, you feel his breath as if it were your own, and is strange.

“Will you give me back the bag as soon as we get down from this tower?” he asks, and the words brush against your own lips. You shiver, nodding “Only if you let me come with you”

There is silence in the room, soon broken by a sigh. You pull your face back slightly, watching his drop for a few seconds before he lifts it again “We have a deal. But you have to untie me if you want it to happen” he says carefully measuring his words, while inside you an unprecedented surge of adrenaline explodes. Your breath catches in your throat as you let the frying pan fall to the ground and begin to untie him from the mass of hair that has kept him pinned. You are disobeying, yet why does it feel more like a reward than a punishment?

As you remove the last layer of hair, you take a step back, just enough to let him stand up. The boy frees himself from the final strands around his body, and when he finally rises, you realize you hadn’t truly registered the height difference between you. You watch him brush dust from his shoulders, then let his gaze fall back on you “If you need to take anything, do it now. We have to go” he says, heading toward the main window, the same one he came in through earlier. You press your lips together, shaking your head and following him toward the edge of the opening “No. We can go”

You step closer, positioning yourself in front of him so you can tie your hair to the hook that allows your mother to climb up and down whenever she wants. What will she think when she calls for you and you don’t answer? Will she be angry?

You don’t think about it, at least not from the moment his hands wrap around your waist. You look up, embarrassed, while he seems unfazed as he sits you and him on the edge of the window, your legs dangling into the void “I think you need to hold me” he says, while you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck as he launches himself into the void. With one hand firmly along your back, leaving you pressed against him, and the other around the mass of your hair, you both plunge into the void. The jump keeps you anchored to him, even if it lasts far less than you had expected. You also expected him to let go, but instead he held you tighter than he normally should have. The sensation of emptiness lasts only a few seconds, abruptly replaced by a landing that almost bounces.

Still held close to him, the hand that had been gripping your hair to lower both of you down, is now behind your knee. You lift your gaze timidly, noticing how the tower is now above you, no longer beneath your feet. Your lips part slightly, revealing an immense expanse of green stretching out before your eyes.

“Your hair might come in handy, now that I think about it” the boy’s voice says, making you lift your gaze toward him, though he still hasn’t let you go. You feel your feet still dangling as his hand shifts from the upper part of your back to the lower one. You shiver, still unaccustomed to the contact, though it hasn’t yet caused you discomfort. You are free after all those wishes, and you are with someone who holds you against him as if you were as precious as your magical long hair.

“Yeah, maybe they could”

[suniless]

GOD, I'M SO LOVESICK ...

What have you done to me?

𝄞 random bf texts with SAE ITOSHI

𝄞 contains: fluff, absolutely lovesick and smitten sae, hes a bit dry, established relationship, domestic fluff, he visits japan towards the end, some suggestive moments, mentions of shidou and rin, usage of babe and baby

𝄞 A/N: awwwww my cutie pie sae i made these little random bf texts for fun! i hope u guys enjoy my first smau hehehehehe

suniless 2026

[em1lysm]

❧ you are drunk (and a tease) II Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

“You wanna kiss me s…soooo bad.” In his arms, you press your palms flat on his chest, swaying and peering up at him with the roundest, prettiest eyes. And he knows this mood, knows you’re playing coy, fluttering your lashes with such skill he wonders if it’s just instinct for you to do so. 

Satoru laughs, the breath tickling your cheeks and sounding something like amused adoration. He picked you up after a night out with your friends. Like, literally picked you up, bridal-style, feet kicking and giggling muffled into your hand like after all these years of being a couple, you still couldn’t believe he’d do that for you. 

Your strappy heels dangled from his fingers as he carried you to the car, because you buried your face in his shoulder and whispered into his sweater that your feet were killing you. And of course, ever the dutiful lover, he took it upon himself to relieve your burden. 

A little grumble tugs him back to the present, where you’re now pouting like a wet cat. “Hey. Where did Gojo goooo?” Then, you begin cackling like a delighted mad scientist, triumphant. “Gojo and gooo. Do y’get it? Get itttt?” 

He doesn’t. Not even a little. But bursting your drunken bubble would be criminal. 

“Yes, sweetheart. Makes so much sense,” he says, nodding solemnly. 

He nods so hard that he’s not sure if he’s trying to convince you or himself. Then, in one swift motion, he lifts you onto the countertop, hands resting around your hips like they belong there. 

“And yes,” he murmurs, with a smile so full it hurts. “I want to kiss you sooooo bad.” 

“Wait!” You hold a stern finger against his lips. “I’m drunk, you can’t kiss me.” 

“Okay, I won’t kiss you.”

“So, you don’t want to kiss me?” Your eyes go wide, lip wobbling like he’s just betrayed you on a spiritual level, like he’s just broken up with you. 

He blinks. Then laughs, soft and helpless. “I want to kiss you sooo bad that I will walk a million more dark streets with you in my arms, and holding your overpriced medieval torture devices. But I want to do it when you’ll remember it.”

You blink like it’ll help your sluggish thoughts form words more quickly. “That’s…really romantic.”

“I thought so, too.” 

“But right now, you need sleep. And water. And to sober up. And then I’ll kiss you.” 

“Promise?” His hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip like a vow. 

“Promise.” 

© 2026 lolalied. all characters belong to gege akutami. do not plagiarise, feed my work into any AI systems, translate, or repost my work to any platforms 

repost! repost. respost. she is mine i birthed her. thank you for reading! likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated <3 mwah ily

[parudoll]

this whole blog’s still so janky n messy wut the hell do yall follow me for ……. but still, thank u !!!!!!!!!

[parudoll]

i want tea and coffee at the same time wjat the fuck do i dew

[ryoride]

ꮼ DO YOU LIKE THIS POSITION, DO YOU LIKE THIS POSITION !

cw: penetrative sex, detailed sexual positions, orgasms mentioned, fingering + eating combo, cunnilingus, strap-on use, freaked-out Sokka, men who yearn, not proofread.

ⓘ Featuring Aang, Zuko, Sokka, Toph, and Katara having very special, very favorite positions.

ⓘ AANG !

He got you in missionary once & has been addicted ever since.

He'll always be down for anything you ask for—but missionary is his go-to. From how easy it is to whisper in your ear, kiss your face, or massage your breast, he loooves it so much.

His favorite thing about missionary, though, is that whenever his thrusts hit just right, your nails will start digging in his back & leave red streaks as little secret reminders.

ⓘ ZUKO !

Zuko is easy to please; he likes every position you throw at him, but by far, spooning is his favorite.

One of the biggest reasons he likes spooning so much is the limited time before duty, or before resting, that you actually have to be intimate—he likes how sex never feels like a quickie even when that's mostly what you have time for.

Early in the morning? He can kiss your shoulder and whisper how pretty you look, taking all of him, and make sure you get breakfast in bed before going to work.

Late at night? He can feel you arch against him as you tell him how your day went—it doesn't matter what you're doing; if you're pressed up against him, thigh hiked over his hip, he's in heaven.

ⓘ SOKKA !

He cannot pick a favorite position for the life of him, so he likes to fuck in lotus & face off interchangeably.

They can be very similar depending on his mood & typically end with you moaning in each other's ears or making out, trying to drown out each other's noises.

If he wants to have something more intimate, he'll guide your legs to hook around his waist & try to kiss all over your skin between whimpers in lotus—or in face-off, he'll get a little less thoughtful with his thrusts & end up rougher than usual.

It depends on your moods, if you've been teasing each other, or if you just ask him to be rougher, but he likes both of those equally.

ⓘ TOPH !

Toph pulls the fingering & eating combo—that way, she can pull back to tease you and still be giving you stimulation.

She'll stop sucking or licking at your clit whenever she feels you tensing to tease you for finishing so quickly, as if she weren't putting her all into making you feel good.

Her favorite part is that she can pull off & talk you through it, though. Driving you crazy with just a little bit of dirty talk, it makes you both feel comfortable to giggle & deepen your connection.

She'll use her free hand to intertwine with yours & squeeze whenever she's really in the zone of munching—she's an expert with her fingers, taking great pleasure in the whines you make when she curls them just right.

ⓘ TOPH & HER STRAP !

Toph tries to be open to whatever you suggest but was very skeptical when you brought up buying a strap-on for the bedroom until you helped her put it on one night & rode her till your legs gave out.

The girl loves cowgirls, how your hands tremble holding yourself up, the whines of her name, and how you'll collapse into her chest whenever you're close, moaning against her neck & she can thrust her hips into yours to coax out louder noises.

She'll always stroke your back after you finish & is deeply grateful she agreed to buy the strap-on with you.

ⓘ KATARA !

She loves it whenever you sit on her face.

Her hands curl around your thighs, helping you roll your hips into a slow grind while her tongue explores your body—it's always so hot to know she's the reason your thighs are shaking.

Sometimes she'll trail a hand up to knead one of your breasts, eating harder whenever little gasps start to escape your lips for her.

Her favorite part of it is whenever you're getting close and start pulling at her hair & show her how much you need her.

ⓘ KATARA & HER STRAP !

She wanted to add some heat to the bedroom and picked out the prettiest sky blue strap to use on you—in every damn position she could think of. The position she'd had the best luck in was doggy style.

It's comfortable; she can rub your back, let you rock your hips back against her while adjusting & muffle yourself into your pillows.

She'll kiss your back when you're getting close & coo that you should let go for her and get so ecstatic whenever you finish.

[bllkho]

sae itoshi's wife does not like his fangirls ✧

"sae-channnnn! over here!"

a rather unpleasant feeling was stirring in your stomach.

"wow! you're soooooooo good sae!"

and the forced voices were making you more agitated by the moment.

of course, it's completely normal for your husband to have many fans, especially fangirls. however, this must've been too much.

these girls each decided to wear a fake jersey with his number on it. they even decided to crop the shirt horrendously short.

now you weren't one for bringing down other girls for what they wear, of course, anyone could wear anything they wanted! but there was a pattern emerging with this specific group of girls.

no matter where you were sitting, you could always hear, see or even sense them somewhere in the crowd of 20k+ people. it was starting to get annoying with how often they tried to disrupt sae's flow during gameplay, but there was no rule of kicking people out just for doing that.

sae had no issue with them, even when you talked about it with him one time, he just brushed it off, saying, "i didn't know they existed."

as of right now, he was in the middle of a penalty kick and the girls, with what little brain cells they have, resorted to squealing as loud as they could when clearly, it was not a good time.

anyhow, sae kicks the ball, creating a long, curved arc and he somehow makes it into the goal. you don't question the science behind it because listening to sae talk about it may as well be a story to put you to sleep.

you have to be impressed with how these girls never lose their voices though. even when they've screamed for at least 80 minutes of the game, you can never make out any sort of voice crack that comes from them.

but then sae turns.

you expect him to lock eyes with you like he does after every goal he's ever scored in a game. but no.

he makes eye contact with those girls.

and you catch it.

your eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing before you're even more irritated when the girls go wild. screaming. shouting. squealing. barking?

seems like sae wanted to see the fans he never saw before.

you scoff under your breath, crossing your arms as you stare at sae unimpressed. why pay attention to those girls when your wife is literally watching from the vip seats?

whatever.

your wedding ring glints in the stadium lights and you twist it around your ring finger anxiously.

it's the last 10 minutes of the game. sae's team needs to score one more point to cut off the draw from the opposing team.

your eyes are only on sae as he seems to strategically place himself where the ball eventually gets kicked over to him. you never bother to think how this man predicts everything, it's normal by now.

he dribbles the ball past the opposing players, stoic expression plastered on his face. you hold your breath as he approaches the goal, where many of the players have positioned theirself to defend it, almost as if their life was on the line.

sae expertly weaves between players, the ball a blur as he manages to change pace, direction and even makes a player fall over his own feet as he fakes a shot.

after all of that, an opening appeared, his teal eyes shining as they zone in on the place he wants to shoot at. he kicks it hard and fast, the ball shooting directly at the top right corner of the goal.

the whole stadium cheers and the buzzer sounds, signalling the end of the game. you smile slightly, breathing out a soft sigh of relief. you never doubted sae.

even after the crowd quietened down for the ceremony, the girls were obnoxiously talking loudly about sae.

"his eyes are to die for!"

"oh my god his hair looks amazing even after all of that!"

"we love you sae!"

you sat in your seat in a pool of dread, just waiting for the awards ceremony to be over. after all medals were awarded, the crowd started to filter out of the stadium.

you took your time grabbing your things, knowing sae would probably be bombarded with interviews from the media.

as always, you walked down to the field, watching sae walk away from his interviews.

of course, he had to interact with the leftover crowd along the way, which also included those girls. the girls were close to falling over the barricade as they reached their hands out with random things in hand, probably for him to sign.

sae never did these things however, he couldn't be bothered.

he just gave a short wave to the crowd, nonchalantly walking past the girls, leaving them with pouts on their faces.

"hello, husband," you said, loud enough for the girls to hear as you were still near the crowd.

their heads turned immediately at that.

after all the games they've been to, had they not known you existed?

"hello... wife?" sae said, almost unsure as he watched you approaching him rather quicker than usual.

"you did well," you smile, sliding your hands around his neck, giving him a slight hug. his scent was mixed with his usual musky scent and a bit of sweat. you didn't care though.

his hands slid awkwardly to your waist, not used to doing this much PDA especially in front of fans. he raised an eyebrow as he took in the way you were smiling like a cheshire cat.

before he knew it, you were leaning in, giving him a soft kiss on the lips.

it wasn't obvious at first, but sae melted into it, reciprocating the kiss thankfully.

the girls gasped, jaws dropped to the floor.

you finally pulled away, still smiling innocently.

"let's go back, i'll make your favourite?" you interlaced your fingers with his, the cold metal of the ring pressed against his own fingers.

sae wore his ring on a chain around his neck. he didn't want to lose his ring any time while playing, it would be an inconvenience.

"sure..." he said, still unsure why you were acting this way.

after you two left, the girls stood there, starstruck looks on their face.

"y'know... hear me out on his wife," one of them said slowly.

the other two of her clique whipped their heads around so fast you could think they snapped off.

"y-you can't just say that- we were literally just cheering for sae!!"

a pause.

"but you're right."