itoshiholic

[r1nitoshi1]

𓏵 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾 🪷．yui !!

✉️ 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗏𝖾ㅤ: ㅤ𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗆𝗌＆𝗎. ⇩

⇨ ⌞ ♱ masterlist ♱ rules - ⌝

m/w @kleinflx

˚　　 ▒ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗌 （𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌）: @honeyluvsw + @cursed-carmine

𝗏 ; ౨ৎ .10-07⋆

⇨ 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌 closed．!!

UPCOMING MENU. 26th June - 8th July

- read here.

[r1nitoshi1]

hi guys its been a while do u still love me 🥺🩷

[r1nitoshi1]

A HIT TO THE PRIDE — sae itoshi .

࣪ 𝜗𝒞 ៸ ࣪: Humiliation ritual.

He was sorry.

For his cutting words.

For his sharp glances.

Most of all, for his silence after the argument.

You knew that.

You knew he was sorry.

It was clear in the way he kneeled at your feet, kissing your inner thigh as you sat.

You had control.

“Take your clothes off.”

The words, spoken in a quiet command, stirred the air with an undeniable charge.

For a brief moment, Sae's muscles stiffened—a knee-jerk reaction from the man, so accustomed to being the one who took.

But then, his gaze drifted from the toes gently pressing at his chest, up to your face.

And he obeyed.

The first button of his shirt gave way in silence, followed by the next, and then another—each undone methodically, as if he were performing some sacred ritual.

His hands never trembled; they were steady, even now. But the way his breath hitched when your smirk deepened?

That was new.

His shirt slid off one shoulder at a time before dropping to the floor, revealing smooth skin over taut muscle.

He didn’t hurry— he let you watch him unravel himself piece by piece for you alone.

He looked more vulnerable like this— nearly naked, at your mercy.

For you.

There was a part of him that wanted to argue, to insist on preserving some dignity, but the look in your eyes silenced that part.

The ball of your foot smoothed over his boxers, gently pushing against his bulge.

“Hard already?”

“Yes,” he admitted hoarsely, voice roughened by something far more primal than pride now.

“Do you feel humiliated?”

He wanted to argue.

He wanted to deny it—to stand up for his pride, to take some measure of control back from you in this moment of perfect vulnerability.

Instead, he gave you a silent, almost defiant, nod.

He obeyed without hesitation when he caught the look in your eyes, sinking to his knees in one fluid motion.

A remnant of that stubborn ego look remained, but it had lost its edge now.

He was your plaything tonight.

When your hand came down on his face, his body jerked, surprise flaring through him like a jolt of electricity before morphing to something darker, more intimate.

The sharp sting in his scalp was like a brand, fingers tugging at the short strands, and the defiant streak he'd shown moments ago was nowhere in sight now.

His eyes were wide, dark with arousal, lips parted slightly in silent concession.

He could have fought back—could have taken control of this situation back with ease—but he chose this instead.

“You like that. Don’t you?”

His breath hitched—sharp, uneven—as your thumb dragged over his bottom lip.

“Yes,” he admitted quietly—no hesitation left now.

“Beg. Beg for me to hit you.”

"Please," he said quietly, his voice cracking slightly, earning a scoff from your dominating lips.

“I told you to beg. Not ask. Beg.”

His breath hitched—sharp, ragged—as you shoved him down.

His hands caught himself just before he could faceplant into the floor, fingers splayed against hardwood as his body tensed beneath yours.

For a moment, there was silence, except for the sound of his uneven breathing and your pulse thrumming in your ears like a drumbeat counting down to something inevitable.

Then came that quietest part—the broken whisper slipping past lips, still tingling from where they'd pressed against your skin earlier today when things were simpler than whatever hellish paradise existed right now.

"Hit me," he choked out finally after several agonizing seconds stretched too long.

"Please…just fucking hit me already before I lose my goddamn mind over it all."

His head whipped to the side with an audible smack that echoed through the room.

It stung.

It hurt.

Not because you were hitting him hard or anything—Sae had survived rougher tackles on football field without even a single bruise to speak of really —but because the act itself went against everything he stood for as person.

Yet, despite that, he didn't protest or even flinch away.

He took it, every blow to his face silently, accepting the humiliation.

© -r1nitosh1. don’t copy , translate, repost, without permission. don’t feed my work to ai.

likes, comments, reblogs: much appreciated.

[neviye]

(18+) sae’s a hidden masochist

i saw this tiktok n KNEEEW i had to write something omg, hes such a pretty boy i wanna ruin him!!! this was also heavily inspired by that “you like my voice” trend cause holy shit, i have a whole folder of em 🤤 (i dont think sae would call you that but the chances are low never zero)

the leather of a collar sat nicely around sae’s neck, biting into his skin as you fastened it tight. it was connected to you by a sleek metal chain which sat in your palm, leaving him completely at your mercy. his skin was scarlet from your makeout minutes earlier — the indents of your teeth and blossoming hickeys visible from his neck to his shoulders, even trailing down along his chest. he was laid back on the bed, staring up at you with a glint of desire glossed over in his eyes yet mumbled, “this is stupid.”

your sex life, which normally consisted of the same thing every single time, needed some colour, something new. so, you had proposed a switch. it took some work convincing him to be the sub for once but you knew he'd let you, he could hardly resist you. it would be fun and seeing him below you now, with that collar alllll pretty round his neck — it was attractive as hell, you knew you definitely had to do this more often.

“stupid?” you were yanking at the chain, forcing him to sit up and watching him twitch at the sudden pressure.

“y-yeah, stupid.” his words came out strained, collar cutting off oxygen as you pulled at it, observing him suffer with satisfaction. you held it firm, ignoring his response and enjoying his low gasps for air.

you were loosening your grip after a few seconds, a smile gracing your face as you neared him, holding his chin and tilting his head up, “you won’t be thinking that when we start.” you tapped your gloved fingers against his lips, “now say ah.”

he did as he was told, letting you ease into his mouth, the latex slippery against his tongue as saliva coated your fingers. it was dripping down his chin as you plunged into his mouth and he was groaning at the feeling, licking and sucking your gloves, wet spot in his boxers spreading as he did.

“goood.” you were pulling your fingers out and smearing his spit over his lips and cheeks, “easy isn’t it?”

he was giving you a both a feisty and alluring look, like he was enjoying it but was too proud to admit it. it was clear he was anyways, with the way he took your fingers and unmistakable boner in his boxers, it was just simply going to take a lot more to break him and you had the perfect plan in doing so.

you were settling into his lap, pulling him closer by the chain, just near enough that your lips were nearly touching, warm breaths fanning over each other. “now, you’re gonna be good for me and i’ll let you cum, alright?”

he seemed to get that easy enough, slowly nodding as his gaze lingered at your lips. his hands were snaking around your waist, lips leaning in to kiss yours before you were pressing the fingers covered with his own saliva to his mouth.

“not so fast.” you were tutting, hearing him groan with frustration, “i’m the one in charge today.” your hips rolled slow over his aching dick, lacey lingerie dampening from your arousal, earning another sound of annoyance out of him.

“so i can’t do anything?” he spoke through gritted teeth as you continued your relentless movements.

“not without my permission.” your breath hitched as your clit caught the fabric, friction delicious as your panties were now equally as soaked as sae’s boxers. “and you’re gonna call me mommy, ‘kay?”

that snapped him out of his trance, hands around you forcing you to a standstill. “what? i’m not calling you that.”

“you won’t?”

your hand was lashing out, swinging, flat palm connecting with his cheek in an instant. the sound of the connection cut, violent, through the room and he froze stunned. “you will call me that.” you gradually resumed grinding, hips picking up speed again, “and i told you, you can’t do anything without my permission, so don’t you dare stop me again.”

eerily silent, eyebrows furrowed with confusion, his face was burning a deep pink, not just from your ruthless slap, but also from self consciousness. he was stroking the tips of his fingers over his stinging flesh, astonishment painting his face.

his dick was twitching, and you could feel it — the painfully obvious outline in his boxers was pressing up against your cunt firmer, straining against the fabric like it was confined.

“aw, you liked that?” you were running your fingers along his tingling cheek, “want me to do it again?”

the tips of his ears were blushed, cheek still red from your hit as he spoke. “yes do… do it again.”

“do it again what? baby? love?” you were striking out the petnames on your fingers. “i don’t understand.”

he was giving in, mumbling softly, “...mommy.”

“see, that wasn’t so difficult was it?” you were rewarding him with another slap, harsher this time, feeling him throb under you once again. he was groaning at the contact, teeth accidentally gashing into the flesh of his lip and drawing blood.

you watched the crimson trail down the corner of his mouth, core hot at the sight. before you could think about it, your tongue was jutting out, lapping over the drip, distinctive metallic tang on your buds as you licked at it.

“you’re sick.” he whispered as you caught his lips in a kiss, his tongue moving with yours, tasting his own blood.

“mm.” you hummed as you sucked on his lower lip, savouring the taste of iron.

your hands were inching down through your frantic kisses, freeing his dick from his underwear and feeling him hiss against your mouth. he was so hard it hurt, cock weighty in your hand and pretty flushed tip leaking beads of pre as you ran a thumb over his slit.

“spit.” you were pulling away and gesturing at your palm. he raised an eyebrow at the word, stubbornly questioning your command. you yanked at his collar, “didn’t you hear me? i said spit.”

he did so with a soft ‘pwah’, watching you trail it down from your hand to his dick, using it as lube. you started with slow punishing strokes, listening to the hitching of his breath as you squeezed at the base.

“spit on it, come on.” you snickered, smile sly as he followed your order. it was so sloppy, his saliva and arousal clung to your gloves, making it extra sticky as his hips attempted to buck up into your palm for more relief.

“oh you’re so cute, look at that.” you sped up and his groans got louder, “who knew you could be so pathetic? fucking up into my hand like a desperate slut.”

“ye-yeah, don’t stop.” his eyes were watching the how your wrist flicked, how you stroked his shaft, how your hand slid down to caress his balls.

“are you sure? you don’t want me to slow down?” your hand was losing speed, pumping him at an unhurried pace.

“n-no,” his fingers were digging into your sides, grip rough as he pleaded. “i want it, shit—, faster.”

who were you to deny him when he was being so good for you? with his usual unfazed attitude and poker face, no one would believe that he was the same person begging you right now with a docile expression — eyebrows drawn together, lips parted and lashes fluttering dazed. you were drunk on the sight, hungry for more.

you were moving quicker, feeling him spasm in your palm, moans breaking as you tightened your hold his chain, cutting off his airflow.

“are you close? gonna cum?”

“y-yes, oh god, don’t stop.” the sentence came out choked from the restriction on his breathing, his eyes watering with tears from the pressure.

you waited till he was on very edge, purposely bringing him there by clutching him firmer, squeezing exactly how you knew he loved it, watching his tears fall and trickle down his face.

and then you were coming to a sudden stop.

his breathing laboured, he was floating back down from the loss of contact — the abrupt halt of the slide of your hand, the loosening of the collar around his neck and regaining his composure.

“why’d, hah— you stop?” a near frown was on his face, “i said—”

“sorry baby,” you faked sympathy, mimicking his pouting expression, “but did you really think you’d get to cum?”

you were slipping your panties to the side, lace already soaked, “it’s not about what you want.” sitting down, you sheathed the entirety of his sensitive dick into your heat, swearing at the stretch.

he let out a loud broken moan that made your pussy flutter, fuzziness in your abdomen as he tried to muffled it by biting into his lower lip.

“no, no, don’t do that.” you clenched around him cruelly, “let me hear you.”

a string of soft groans followed, his cock pulsing against your slick walls as he desperately tried to hold his orgasm back. his legs were shaking, entire body shuddering at the unexpected sensation of your warmth.

“fu-fuck, you’re s-squeezing so tight i—”

“you better not fucking cum.” you hissed, tip of his dick snug at your cervix making you feel oh so full. “not until i say so.”

“i-i won't.” his breath shook, body using every ounce of its strength not to paint you walls white.

who knew he’d enjoy this so much?

[laiaera]

sae hates to see you go through your seasonal depression.

sae is very blunt, reserved and sometimes emotionally detached.

so dating someone with these traits can be difficult. but one thing about him is he always shows he cares. even if it’s small.

you sit curled in the bed with your phone in your hand zoning out thinking about god knows what.

you’ve been in such a slump lately, and it’s taking a toll on you. and he can see it. and it absolutely hurts his heart.

he comes home from practice early walking into your shared bedroom seeing your small form curled up, he lets out a soft sigh before sitting down beside you making the bed dip.

his hand moves to squeeze your shoulder. “how’s my sweet girl feeling today?” he asks quietly. you hum in acknowledgment but dont give him a proper response.

he looks over your tired form and feels his heart ache.

“i don’t know what to do. i don’t know how to help,” he says in a quiet quivery voice.

you lift up slowly looking into his teal eyes feeling your eyes water before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug.

“i’m sorry… im like this. you don’t deserve this.” you mumble against him. he shakes his head squeezing you tightly.

“no. no. i know my sweet girl is in there. so don’t say that.” he says against your skin.

making your stomach twist as your tears fall onto him.

the slightest water droplet falls onto your thighs. it’s not yours, but sae’s delicate tear. and he never cries.

“you’re so strong. i see you trying. i know it’s hard but im here with you.” he says pulling back cupping your face.

you’ve never seen sae in this state before. reddened eyes, heavy shoulders, shaky hands.

he’s always been one to hide his emotions well, but to the woman he loves? impossible.

he pecks your cheek with soft kisses, then your neck, and back up to your face to kiss your nose making your eyes flutter letting out a soft giggle.

he smiles continuing to attack your face with kisses,

“there she is. i love hearing you laugh.”

you run your fingers through his soft magenta locks letting him attack you with kisses.

“i love you sae.”

“love you more.”

[r1nitoshi1]

OCEAN EYES — rin itoshi .

࣪ 𝜗𝒞 ៸ ࣪: The eyes never lie.

Rin doesn’t turn around, leant against the wall, but the corner of his mouth twitches—just slightly—as he hears your stuttered response.

“I-I have a boyfriend!”

Only then do the footsteps that follow indicate the boy’s (that had approached you) departure.

Rin’s hand snakes around your wrist, now that the annoyance is finally gone.

Physically at least.

That boy is still lingering in his head.

Rin doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to.

He’s always like this, even if he’s hauling you away a little faster.

The door clicks shut behind you both with a quiet finality. His room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of his desk lamp and the city lights bleeding through half-drawn curtains.

He tosses his gym bag onto the floor with an indifferent thud before finally glancing back at you over his shoulder.

His eyes catch the light just so, obscuring most of whatever expression flickers in those sharp teal eyes—but not enough to hide how they drag down your body like he’s memorizing every inch again for good measure.

“You’re still thinking about it,” he states flatly, “About that guy.”

A pause.

“You shouldn't be.”

“What? No I’m not.” You protest softly, following him over to his bed with gentle footsteps.

With a dry snort, he sinks down to sit at the edge of the bed.

You can practically feel him rolling his eyes despite his expression remaining as flat and unflinchingly indifferent as ever.

He lifts one shoulder in a dismissive half-shrug, face still indifferently cool.

He raises an eyebrow in clear disbelief as you follow him over to his bed, his expression almost bored.

He leans back against the headboard, legs spread out in front of him.

The fabric of his sweatpants stretches taut over his thighs.

He tugs absently at a loose thread on the seam, dark sea gaze flicking up to you again.

A beat passes before he reaches out suddenly, fingers hooking into the waistband of your sweats to yank you forward gently, until your knees bump against his thighs.

His thumb brushes over where some random guy’s words still cling like sweat onto skin earlier today.

“You don’t need anyone else.”

A quiet command more than an observation.

“So stop..thinking.”

He raises an eyebrow—a silent, doubtful challenge.

He's still frustratingly calm, still playing the part of unbothered.

Like you're the only one feeling this charged and uncertain.

His gaze slides back to you—he watches those nervous fingers of yours silently for a long moment before he speaks.

"You can touch me," he mutters finally, not bothering to hide the dry edge to his tone.

“But..you wouldn’t like it. Not like this,” You mutter quietly, “You sound bored. Dry.”

He hesitates; for just a moment, his tracing fingers falter. You noticed.

Something shifts in his gaze, too.

Those dark blue eyes narrow ever so slightly, the slightest hint of annoyance flashing in their depths.

Bored?

He hates when you think that.

Hates that you think you've figured him out.

He hates this—explaining himself, peeling back layers he usually keeps carefully hidden.

But the way you look at him—soft and patient like he’s some puzzle to solve instead of an open book waiting for you to read—it makes his chest ache in ways that piss him off.

“I’m not bored. I’m jealous, okay?”

He lets out a low scoff, his shoulders tensing involuntarily.

"I just…don’t know how to react when others approach you.” His jaw tightens, just a fraction, but then his eyes are softening as he meets your gaze, all vulnerable and open.

Yours.

© -r1nitosh1. don’t copy , translate, repost, without permission. don’t feed my work to ai.

likes, comments, reblogs: much appreciated.

[r1nitoshi1]

SENSES — michael kaiser .

࣪ 𝜗𝒞 ៸ ࣪: Removal.

The night was silent save for the sound of your panting as you came yet again, Kaiser’s promise of making up lost time actually following through for once.

His breath hitches—sharp, controlled—as he watches you unravel beneath him, body trembling with overstimulation under his hands.

Your eyes flutter shut as the fabric of his tie is wrapped over them, still warm from his skin where it had been pressed against chest earlier.

The silk was cool now as he tightens it ever so slightly.

His fingers tilt your chin up to meet his gaze even through the blindfold; dark eyes flickering over your face like he’s trying to memorize every gasp trapped behind those parted lips.

"I want to see you break for me again."

He drags his thumb over your bottom lip before replacing it with his teeth—not enough pressure to cause pain but close enough that heat floods low in your stomach when he murmurs, "You think I don't know how much you can take?"

”Please.” You whimper, fingers curling into air.

He hums a chuckle, tracing your jawline lazily with the pad of his thumb.

His lips ghost over your neck, leaving soft nips along the column of your throat.

"Please what?" he murmurs, the heat of his words fanning over your skin.

His other hand glides teasingly down your side, fingers tracing just below your ribs.

He can feel the way you shiver, muscles taut beneath his touch, waiting for his next move.

"I won't know what you need if you can't tell me, princess."

The word leaves him like a purr, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“Please…I can’t go anymore.”

"You can,” he whispers, fingers circling your hip to guide you closer.

His gaze locks onto your face, watching the flush rise to your cheeks.

"And I'll prove it to you."

He leans in, capturing your lower lip in a slow kiss.

The touch is careful, almost tender, before he coaxes them open to taste you properly.

His arms slide around your waist, pulling you flush against him in a possessive hold that betrays just how much he missed the feeling of skin-on-skin contact.

Your fingers finally curl in the sheets just beside his palm, trying to regain any bearings as his hand traces your skin, sensations heightened by the removal of your vision.

His touch is everywhere, roaming your body with a mix of reverence and arousal.

Fingers brush the underside of your chest before tracing the dip of your waist, then the curve of your hip.

He touches you like he wants to claim you—like he wants to brand you as his own in the only way he knows how.

Another kiss, this one deeper, more demanding, and then he whispers lowly against your mouth, "I've thought about this so much, you know."

“Thought about what? Blinding me?”

A rough exhale escapes him when he watches your throat bob —almost a laugh—before he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip again, watching the way you swallow.

"No."

His voice drops lower, darker.

"About how fucking perfect you sound when I ruin you."

The tie tightens just slightly before it can fall loose, his other hand splaying possessively across your stomach, holding still like he's savoring the feel of your trembling form beneath him before murmuring.

His fingers trail teasingly across your hip, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps in their wake. It's almost torturous how slow he's being, each touch calculated to drive you further over that edge.

He watches your hand search blindly for him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip before catching your wrist, pinning it gently back against the sheets above your head.

"Not so fun is it?" he murmurs, his grip on your joint just firm enough to keep you in place, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of desire and amusement— a look you couldn’t even see.

His free hand brushes lightly across the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, drawing lazy patterns with the back of his fingers.

The touch is maddeningly gentle, almost a tease.

He can feel the way you shudder beneath him—can see how much you're holding back, the way your body responds to his touch like a live wire.

His kiss grows more possessive, his teeth sinking lightly into your sensitive skin when he reaches the base of your throat.

"Stop thinking," he commands roughly.

"Just feel."

© -r1nitosh1. don’t copy , translate, repost, without permission. don’t feed my work to ai.

likes, comments, reblogs: much appreciated.

[stmlucky]

𝐃𝐀𝐃 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 … featuring rin itoshi

SYPNOSIS ... rin itoshi’s daughter is a dream to baby sit, and her hot single dad is the ultimate dream to fuck :: based off CONTENT ... nsfw content, read at your own risk :: fem!reader :: dilf!rin :: reader atleast 21 :: vaginal fingering :: light degration :: light humiliation :: cheating mentioned (not by rin or reader) :: probably super oc tbh the further i wrote the more i realised this is nothing like rin :: this took me so damn long to write for some reason as well

three and half months ago. that’s how long ago you started working for rin itoshi

like clockwork you’d babysit his daughter monday through friday from three till eight pm once his soccer practice ended

it was perfect, you’d spend six hours with this darling little girl, her insanely hot dad would arrive home, tuck her into bed, then you’d inform him on everything that happened while she was in your care

it didn’t matter how serious a day’s events could be, the way his eyes would track your movements and the nods of approval he’d give you would always make you soak through your lacy underwear. it truely was embarrassing

it didn’t matter how close you and his daughter were, the man always remained a mystery to you, just a thirty-something football player who’d been divorced for the past three years. that was probably the most alluring part

“can i offer you a drink, [name]?”

sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing his forearms, veins straining under his weight against the kitchen counter

“im okay, thank you though mr.itoshi”

he hummed in acknowledgment, then turned away from you. his toned back now staring at you through his polo

“how was she today?”

“good. as always. she’s like a little angel honestly”

you let out an airy laugh sensing a tenseness spread through the room

rin’s head turned over his shoulder slightly, if he didn’t you wouldn’t of caught the way his lips twitched up slightly. the small act made you heart pound and thighs squeeze tighter than before

his head turned back and he cleared his throat before speaking up

“you know [name], there’s something i wanted to bring to your attention”

shit. you racked through everything you’ve done ever since you stepped into the itoshi household. there wasn’t one memory of you crossing a line

“i-uh what it is..?”

your fingers instantly curled over the hem of your skirt, the palms of your hands rubbing across the fabric to stop the clammy feeling

“do you know if my daughter has a friend named miya?”

the emphasis on the word friend made you start to sweat. did the rin itoshi’s daughter have a boyfriend you weren’t aware about. you shook your head hoping it was the right answer

“let me be more specific. do you have a friend named atsumu miya my daughter knows about?”

your body stiffened at the mention of your ex. this had to be the most inconvenient thing for you to forget

memories of how you would be on the phone to your friends, talking about your cheating man whore of an ex with his innocent daughter doing homework. you swore she wasn’t paying attention

“…potentially mr.itoshi”

he hummed to no one in particular, you both now face to face across the island bench

“i’m assuming this guy was more than a friend, correct? ‘cause what i’ve heard from her, he was a quote, ‘cheating bum with nothing going for him’ ”

shame bubbled in your stomach and seeped up to your throat. you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes out of embarrassment

“i’m sorry mr.itoshi, that was unprofessional..”

it took all your might to keep your voice steady and yet you still failed. rin’s footsteps echoed as he inched closer to you, by the time you met his gaze again he was right in front of you

your nose burned lightly, tears threatening to fall at your undecided fate

“i always thought you were a pretty girl, very bright, and considerate. the fact you go above and beyond for my daughter means a lot to me”

he leaned in closer, this cologne invading your sense involuntarily, his cool minty breath fanning your face lightly

“you mean a lot to my little girl, to me. to think someone would cheat on a girl like you…such a kind and beautiful girl, it’s strange to me”

his voice lowered and became raspy. you couldn’t help but shift slightly, the slick in your panties soaking deep into the lacy fabric as it clung to your folds

rin’s hand reached up to your cheek, caressing it lightly while his veiny forearm coming into view again. you automatically leaned into the touch slightly and pushed your thighs closer together in a desperate attempt to stop the ache

the action caught rin’s attention and his hand moved away from your cheek, and down to your upper thigh. his thumb brushing up and down your thigh then stopping to sit at the hem of your skirt. your stomach was twisting into knots at the anticipation, your body growing more desperate for him by the second

“always thought you were gorgeous y’know”

his hand moved slowly, the tips of his fingers barely reaching under your skirt, now centimetres away from your throbbing core. you’d be embarrassed to admit how many times you’d played this exact scenario out in your head

your hips shifted slightly, body begging from his own

“may i?”

you couldn’t bring yourself to verbally answer, preferring to nod in response

“use your words”

his tone was partially aggressive at your lack of verbal confirmation

“..please…”

your voice not even a whisper as you made eye contact with the man in front of you. his fingers moved once again, inching closer to your cunt. your breath hitched when his hand barely grazed over the lacy fabric of your panties then slipped further down drawing lazy circles over the drenched fabric

“how lukewarm, this wet over nothing”

your face burned stomach bubbling with humiliation. his eyes remained focused on yours, his free hand now holding your cheeks to force your faces to remained locked on one anothers

rin’s hand slipped deeper, pulling the slick coated lace to the side giving him full access to your drenched pussy. he traced lightly over the folds, the wetness starting to cover his hand

you bucked your hips slightly whining in the process. you wanted, no, needed more

the tips of his fingers dipped between your soaked pussy making you moan at the new found feeling. rin’s hands were twice, if not more, the size of yours

“r-rin..”

his fingers barely rubbing inside your warm heat, his thumb now rubbing your clit gently, then pushing down on the bud, forcing out a louder moan

rin’s fingers traveled deeper into your pussy, the tight heat enveloping his ring and middle fingers up to the knuckles. he began to fasten his pace pulling gasps and cries out of you

“such a slut, being fingered fucked by someone who’s practically your boss”

you gripped onto one of his arms, the sounds of your slick and whines began to fill the room, while a pressure began to build in your lower stomach

“rin, please..!”

he only quickened his pace at your cries for him. his speed made your breath knock out of your chest. your nails drug into his forearm and your head fell forward into his chest, the white hot heat coiling tighter the longer he kept his fingers stuffed in your over sensitive, drenched cunt

tears pricked the corners of your eyes, rin’s hand pulled your head back up while other kept finger fucking you. your eyes met his again, yours teary and desperate while his were dark and unforgiving

your moans grew louder and the coil in you snapped coating his hand in your juices. his fingers worked you through your high, rin’s thumb still rubbing your clit

you panting began to even out and rin’s eyes softened once again. his fingers slowly leaving your tight heat, then sliding your ruined panties back over your sensitive folds

his hands now completely let you go as he began to speak again

“i’ll see you tomorrow [name], make sure you try to keep that little ex boyfriend of yours out of conversations with my daughter”

© stmlucky / all rights reserved

[r1nitoshi1]

oh and to add to my latest post, i will be taking a small break.

because of what happened, i’ve been so anxious and i can’t even bring myself to eat anything.

my physical health isn’t the best rn either, but i’m seeing the doctor on tuesday so hopefully things get better.

my menu items will still be releasing since they are scheduled

but i won’t be posting any new fics until i decide to come back

i will still occasionally be reblogging other writers

and any non-request related asks are allowed :)

have a good day lovelies!

[r1nitoshi1]

omg guys something happened today and i called my ex in hysterical tears, like i was hyperventilating and everything

and he fucking answered.

my call surpassed his dnd, which means he still has me on his favourites

and he woke up

just to answer my call

and then he listed to everything

what does this mean?

[pennyou6]

run to you

sae itoshi x f!reader

sae is late to your anniversary dinner

based off the couple from this fic and this fic (i really need to think of a name for this couple, comment any suggestions if you'd like!)

a/n:

trying to tell myself its okay to write a fic that isnt super mega long!!!! I end up putting sm pressure on myself that i end up losing motivation and ideas :////

<3

Sae makes sure he is always on time to meet you. Whether that’s at home after work, at the airport, the train station, a restaurant for a date, he is always on time, and even earlier whenever he can; he never wants you to feel like you’re not a priority, that he doesn’t care about your time or your feelings. Of course, there are times where he genuinely can’t help being late because of his job, but you’re always forgiving, him apologetic, and he promises to make it up to you (successfully every time) no matter how much you reassure him otherwise.

But today’s your anniversary dinner. And he’s very late.

He should’ve been more vigilant in checking the time, cursing his alarm that failed to go off, because before he knew it, time was flying by with practice, and he didn’t even realise that practice was continuing beyond the scheduled time. It was only when he slumped onto a bench in the locker room in fatigue did he check his phone, eyes widening in horror and heart plummeting to his stomach as he read the time; his practice has ended well over an hour more than it should’ve, and now he barely has time to shower, get ready and get a taxi to meet you at the restaurant. 

Sae had told you he’d get ready by himself straight after practice and meet you there, instead of going home first, because his practice grounds were closer to the restaurant anyway. He’d made sure he’d had enough time, calculated and told you when booking the table, made sure he’d be able to even arrive there early - but that was based on the time that his practice was supposed to end.

Now he’s taking the quickest shower of his life, not even sure if he’s washed off all the soap suds properly, foregoing drying his hair in hopes that the wind outside will dry it (and somehow style it) for him, changing into his pastel blue suit at record speed (but still with care because he knows if anything were to happen to it your heart would genuinely break) and fumbling to close his locker, cursing under his breath as the strap of his bag keeps sticking out and stopping it from shutting properly. His teammates can only stare in silence at his unhinged behaviour, not even being able to tell Sae that his shirt is inside out, his socks are mismatched and his zipper is still down, because Sae’s already rushed out the door without looking back or saying goodbye.

It’s only when he’s sitting in the taxi does he realise that he’s left his phone in the locker room, and because he was so busy trying to get ready in time, he hadn’t texted you that he’s running late. He swears aloud this time, telling the taxi driver to stop and wait for him while he runs back to the stadium to grab his phone (and his wallet, keys, watch, everything else he’d forgotten). The taxi driver splutters in disbelief at him but Sae’s already out the door before the car can even fully stop, sprinting down the pavement and trying to remain positive at the fact that at least he’d realised early before the taxi could drive away any further. 

The door to the locker room slams against the wall as Sae strides towards his locker. His teammates are shocked at his reappearance, fearful of his clear fury, but Sae’s already out again before they can conjure up a thought.

He immediately calls you as he begins to run again, his free hand double checking his pockets to make sure he hasn’t left anything behind for a second time because he is officially late to your booking. You answer his call immediately, and that makes him feel worse; he can’t imagine how horrible you must feel now, waiting alone at the restaurant, alone on your anniversary.

“Sae?”

“Baby, I’m so sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry, practice went over and I didn’t realise. My alarm didn’t go off and, fuck, I should’ve noticed. I’m so sorry, I’m on my way right now, I swear I’ll be there as quickly as I can-”

“Sae!”

“Baby?”

“It’s okay, really-”

“No, it’s not. You don’t have to say that. Shit, I really fucked up-” His hand is frantically running through his hair, still damp and he shakes his wet hand out on the pavement before hopping into the taxi again. He apologises to the driver, promising to pay him extra, before returning his attention back to you as the car starts to move again, “I’m in a taxi right now, I swear I’ll be there soon.”

“Sae… I moved our reservation time.”

“… What?”

“I moved our reservation time. We still have, like, over an hour left before our table.”

“How… when did you do that?” You giggle, and the weight on his chest lifts slightly at the sound.

“You didn’t text me that your practice ended. You always do, so I just assumed it was running late and decided to see if we could move our reservation to give you more time. We were really lucky that they had tables available later. I’m guessing you didn’t see my text?”

“Your… text?” Sae moves his phone away from his ear to check his notifications, and low and behold, there’s your text.

My Love

Just to let you know I’ve moved our reservation time!!! Since your practice is running late xxxx hope it’s going well!!! Text me when you finish <333

Sae can only let out a sigh of both disbelief and relief, putting his phone back to his ear as he drags a hand down his face. He must’ve been so distracted by the time that he hadn’t even noticed the notification.

“Shit. Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t even see-”

“It’s okay, baby. Really. I bet you were tearing up that locker room thinking you were late.”

He can only laugh, what an understatement.

“I think my teammates probably think I’m a lunatic now.”

“What?! Oh no, Sae, what happened?”

“I’ll tell you all about it over dinner.”

“Okay… Aw, Sae, I’m sorry, maybe I should’ve just left it as it was-”

“No, don’t apologise. You didn't do anything wrong. I’m glad you changed it. I hate to imagine you waiting alone like that. I’d never forgive myself.”

“Are you sure? You’re still in the taxi on the way to the restaurant, right?”

“Shit, yeah. Well, I guess I have the time to come home and get ready now.”

You’d stayed on the phone with him the whole taxi journey home, telling him about your day whilst getting yourself ready for the dinner. When he eventually makes it home, taking his shoes off to reveal his mismatched socks, he’s more than grateful to see you waiting for him at the entryway, all dolled up and pretty.

“Oh, Sae.” You run to hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying your best to hide the laugh that threatens to release from your throat at the state of him, “Welcome home, baby.”

“I’m home.” He whispers, hugging you back tightly as he buries his face into your hair, his shoulders finally relaxing in your embrace as he just breathes you in, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Sae.” You pull away from him just slightly, unable to hold back your laugh any longer as you brush your hand through his hair, his now dry but unruly hair, “You look, so handsome too.”

He can’t help but chuckle with you, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.

“I think my shirt is inside out.” He says, and when you look down the space between you two to check, you gasp with another laugh.

“Sae, your zipper-!”

You have to pull away completely to laugh properly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as Sae follows your line of sight, cursing before fixing his zipper with wide eyes. You’re quick to return to him, placing your hands on his shoulders to kiss him on the cheek, hands moving again to cup his face.

“Oh, Sae. You’re okay, though, right? You’re not… upset, or anything?”

“I’m okay. And I’m not upset. Well, except at myself,” His hands move to hold your waist, and he shifts to kiss one of your palms, “Just grateful to have you. Always am. Thank you for changing our reservation time, baby. You know me so well. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

You pull him back into your embrace, pushing his head to rest against your shoulder and moving his hands to rest on your ass (because you know it’ll make him feel better).

“Don’t be upset at yourself, Sae. It’s okay, really. Things happen, and at the end of the day, we’re still having our dinner, we’re still celebrating our anniversary, so it’s all okay. Really.”

“... You’re sure?”

“There’s nothing to be upset about.” You pull away and pinch one of his cheeks with a stern look before resting your arms against his shoulders again, “Your job is important. Everything’s still the same as we planned, just a bit later, and that’s okay. At least now we can spend more time with each other before dinner. And now you can drive us there instead."

You grin up at him sweetly at the end of your words, and when Sae lets out a laugh, when he pulls you towards him to kiss you, squeezing your ass as he does so, you know he’s feeling better about the situation.

“I love you.” He says against your lips, and you say it back before kissing him again.

When the two of you finally separate, you snort at the new colour on his lips, swiping at the lipstick that’s transferred to Sae’s mouth before grabbing his hand to drag him towards the bathroom.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up, yeah?”

Sae looks at you in such a lovesick daze, his head slightly tilted as he follows you.

“Will you be helping me in the shower?”

You hum at that with a teasing smile.

“I’m already dressed and ready, Sae, nice try.”

Sae groans dramatically at that and you can only laugh as you push his back into the bathroom. He turns to face you before you close the door.

“Save that for after dinner, okay?” You say, as you lift your dress strap to let it snap against your shoulder, giving him a wink before closing the door.

God, he loves you.

<3

I almost added a shower sex scene at the end HELPPP but then i remembered yn was all ready and dressed so like. It wouldnt have made sense unfortunately :((( i’ll write it one day though xxx and yes i avoided giving specific times about the reservation bc ngl i couldnt be asked for that HELP doesnt affect the story too much i dont think anyway!

This fic can lowkey act as a prequel to the extra section of this fic (i think..). Man i love to reference this blue suit its just such a good little easter egg little special thing to sneak in all the time. Its actually based off a suit at my workplace HELPPPPPPPPP what inspired that fic fr!!! But no joke every time i walk past it i have to hold back a giggle bc wheres my sae at

[kxsagi]

“𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.”

a/n: japan vs brazil in the next world cup match i'm scared.

synopsis: how they defend you against the press and rude reporters. 

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, kaiser michael, ness alexis

isagi yoichi

isagi is one of those athletes who genuinely tries to be polite to the media because he understands they're part of the sport. he'll smile, answer every question thoughtfully, thank reporters for coming, etc.. he's practically the media's golden boy... until they decide to involve you. 

one reporter starts with the classic, "your girlfriend has been getting criticized online lately. do you think the attention she’s receiving is distracting you from football?" 

his smile doesn't disappear, but it definitely changes. "not really." 

"could you elaborate?" 

"there's nothing to elaborate on." 

dead silence. isagi isn't giving them anything. 

"my relationship has never affected my performances. if anything, she’s only supported me." 

"but people are saying–" 

"people say a lot of things." he says it so calmly that it almost sounds friendly. "i don't base my opinions on anonymous comments." 

the interview gets uploaded and everyone immediately notices how his expression changed the second your name came up. 

"bro activated post-match interview ego 😭" 

"the aura disappeared the moment they mentioned his gf" 

"he looked at that reporter like they misplaced a pass" 

another time, you're walking beside him after a match. cameras are everywhere. flashes nonstop. it’s all making you feel a bit dizzy. 

then one photographer practically shoves a camera inches from your face while another reporter asks, "how does it feel dating someone who's clearly more famous than you?" 

before you can even process the question, isagi steps between you and every single camera. he literally uses his body as a shield. 

"that's enough. back up." 

security immediately intervenes because even they're surprised isagi actually had to say something. 

afterwards, he apologizes to you. "sorry. i should've reacted sooner." 

and you're staring at him like "you just stared down 20 reporters." 

"did i?" 

"yoichi." 

"i was a little annoyed." 

a little, huh? everyone watching could tell he wanted to say about 15 more things. 

itoshi rin

rin has absolutely zero respect for reporters who ask stupid questions. none. 

they're already on thin ice simply because they exist. involving you makes it worse. 

one interviewer smiles way too brightly. "rin, your girlfriend gets a lot of hate online. have you ever thought dating someone less controversial would make your career easier?" 

rin hits him with that deadpan look. "have you ever thought asking better questions would make your career easier?" 

gagged. 

the poor interviewer doesn't even know what to say. 

rin doesn't wait. he simply stands up. "interview's over." and leaves. that's it. 

the clip reaches 10 million views in two days. 

"HE COOKED THEM." 

"reporter retiring after this." 

"rin woke up and chose unemployment for somebody else." 

another time, reporters surround the two of you outside the stadium. they're asking invasive questions, following you, refusing to move, ignoring your requests to be left alone. 

rin immediately notices you're getting overwhelmed. so he grabs your hand naturally. his grip is firm enough to remind you, i'm here. 

someone continues shouting questions behind you. "rin! does your girlfriend deserve all the sponsorships she’s getting?" 

he doesn't even look back. "more than you deserve a microphone." 

and keeps walking. doesn't break stride. 

the reporters are left standing there while social media loses its mind. 

later, when you're home, you quietly tell him, "you didn't have to defend me." 

he looks genuinely confused. "why wouldn't i?" like the idea of not defending you has literally never crossed his mind. "you're mine. of course i'm going to protect you." 

it's the closest thing to a love confession you'll get that week. 

itoshi sae

sae is terrifying because he doesn't raise his voice. ever. disappointment somehow hurts more. 

european reporters quickly learn that while sae tolerates difficult football questions… asking about you is dangerous territory. in fact, it’s where he draws the line. and he makes that very known. 

"your relationship has become quite the headline recently." 

"has it?" 

"people believe your girlfriend’s popularity is benefiting from your name." 

sae tilts his head slightly. "that's interesting." 

the reporter thinks they're winning. then– 

"because i was under the impression she’d built her own career. unless i've missed something." 

the room starts laughing. the reporter turns bright red. sae simply sips his water. 

at another press conference, it happens again: "your girlfriend was criticized for wearing designer clothing to one of your matches." 

"okay." 

"what are your thoughts?" 

"she looked as pretty as always." 

"... that's it?" 

"did you expect me to criticize what someone i love wears?" 

"... no." 

"then we're finished." 

every answer is somehow more humiliating than if he'd actually gotten angry. 

when photographers become too aggressive, sae doesn't shove anyone. doesn't yell either. he simply walks directly beside you, one hand resting against your back, subtly steering you away from the crowd. every camera angle suddenly has him between you and the chaos. 

his security team instantly understands. they create space without him needing to say a word. 

later that night, you mention, "people online say you never show affection." 

sae glances over from where he's making tea. "do you think that?" 

"no." 

he hums. walks over. brushes your hair behind your ear. and then presses a kiss to your forehead. "good." 

because he genuinely couldn't care less what strangers think. only whether you know how much he loves you. 

nagi seishiro

nagi hates interviews. hates cameras. hates talking. but somehow finds the energy to become unbelievably articulate whenever someone is disrespecting you. 

a reporter asks, "your girlfriend seems to enjoy the spotlight a little more than you." 

"mhm." 

"doesn't that bother you?" 

"why would it?" 

"well–" 

"i like seeing her happy. next question." 

another reporter pushes: "some fans think she’s only dating you because you're famous." 

nagi finally looks up from the table. "that's kinda rude." 

everyone stops because his tone is so unusually serious. 

"you don't know her. so don't act like you do." 

that's all he says. but somehow it trends harder than every goal he's scored that month. because nagi never sounds upset. 

another time, you're both leaving an awards ceremony. photographers are screaming. someone's trying to get you to look at their camera. another person starts criticizing your outfit loud enough for everyone to hear. 

nagi immediately wraps an arm around your shoulders and gently pulls you against his side. "don't listen. they're loud today." 

you mumble, "i know." 

"wanna go home?" 

"... please." 

"okay." 

that's literally his only priority – getting you away from people who made you feel small. 

later, he's scrolling through comments and sees another rude post. he sighs loudly. “can i block the whole internet?" 

"i don't think that's possible, sei." 

“annoying." 

but whenever he defends you and ignores rude press, he only earns the respect of his fans and your fans even more. 

mikage reo

reo grew up around the press. he knows exactly how manipulative reporters can be. he also knows how to shut them down without causing a scandal. 

someone asks during an interview, "your girlfriend’s spending habits have been criticized recently." 

reo smiles politely. "is that so?" 

"people think she’s enjoying your family's wealth." 

reo actually laughs. he’s genuinely amused. "that's funny." 

"why?" 

"i refuse to let her pay for anything, even though she has plenty of her own money. now anything else?" 

another interviewer tries: "do you think your relationship helps your public image?" 

"if anything, my girlfriend’s helping mine." 

cue the internet exploding. 

"HE'S SOOOOOOOO." 

"reo said I'M the trophy boyfriend actually." 

"MIKAGE STOCKS UP." 

at fashion events, galas, charity dinners, reporters constantly try separating the two of you. 

"reo! one photo!" 

"can we get one without your girlfriend?" 

reo immediately replies, "why?” 

"for the article!” 

"my girlfriend is the best-looking part of the picture." he grabs your hand. "she stays." 

he refuses interviews if you're being treated disrespectfully. he refuses photo shoots if they crop you out after inviting both of you. he even refuses magazine covers if they try creating fake relationship drama. 

his PR team has learned not to argue. once reo decides something regarding you, that's final. 

one day you apologize. "i'm sorry if dating me causes trouble with sponsors." 

he looks genuinely offended. "don't apologize for other people's behavior." he cups your face with both hands. "they don't get to make you feel like you're difficult to love. you're the easiest person in my life to choose." 

and if that means correcting reporters, shutting down rumors, or walking out of a hundred interviews… he'll do it every single time. 

no headline, sponsorship, or public image will ever matter more to him than making sure you never have to face the cruelty of the press alone. 

bachira meguru

bachira is sunshine with a microphone. every reporter loves interviewing him because he's playful, unpredictable, and somehow manages to make every press conference entertaining. 

unfortunately for them… they eventually learn there's exactly one way to make bachira stop smiling. 

"bachira, your girlrfriend has received quite a bit of criticism online lately." 

"mm." 

"people say she’s becoming more famous because of your relationship." 

he tilts his head. "that's weird." 

"why?" 

"because i started dating her AFTER i thought she was cool." 

the room laughs. the reporter awkwardly chuckles, too. bachira doesn't. 

"if i wasn't famous, i'd still love her. if she weren't famous, i'd still love her. so i'm kinda confused why everyone else cares so much." 

the smile never leaves his face. 

but there's something almost unsettling about how sincere he sounds. to bachira, love has always been incredibly simple. if he loves you, then that's the end of the discussion. 

another time, reporters swarm the two of you after a charity event. you're smiling politely, answering questions, etc. 

until one photographer says, "can you move over a little? you're blocking bachira." 

before you even step aside, bachira steps beside you. 

"is she?" 

"well... yes." 

"then i'll stay here." he wraps an arm around your shoulders with the biggest grin imaginable. "we're a package deal." 

"but we'd like some solo shots–” 

"you already have plenty. next." 

he completely ignores them after that. 

he also spends the next 5 minutes making you laugh instead. 

the resulting pictures? every single one has you laughing so hard your eyes are closed while bachira looks at you instead of the cameras. they immediately become everyone's favorite photos from the event. 

when you apologize later for "making things difficult," he physically pouts. "difficult?" he pokes your forehead. "you're literally my favorite person. if anything, they're the difficult ones. they forgot manners." 

“meguru…" 

"what? my mama would've scolded them, too." 

shidou ryusei

reporters love interviewing shidou because they know he's completely unfiltered. they also regret it approximately 70% of the time. as for the remaining 30%... they're regretting it before the interview even starts. 

one particularly brave reporter decides to ask, "your girlfriend seems to attract controversy wherever she goes." 

"yeah." 

"doesn't that bother you?" 

"no." 

"why not?" 

"controversy's hot." 

everyone blinks. "excuse me?" 

"means she’s interesting." he shrugs. "boring people don't get talked about." 

another reporter jumps in. "people think she’s hurting your brand." 

shidou laughs so loudly security looks over. "my brand?" points at himself. "have... have you met me? i'm literally ryusei shidou. my brand is causing problems." 

the room erupts. even the moderators are trying not to laugh. 

later, someone crosses the line. you're walking through the mixed zone when a reporter loudly comments on his appearance and blames it on you. 

"you look exhausted today. is your girlfriend struggling to keep up with your lifestyle?" 

shidou stops walking immediately. he slowly turns around while smiling. that's even scarier. then he hits them with the: "say that again." 

the reporter suddenly isn't nearly as confident. "... i..." 

"nah, go on." he takes a step closer. "you were real loud a second ago." 

security is already moving because they know exactly where this is headed. 

you gently tug his sleeve. "... ryusei." 

he looks down and immediately softens. "yeah?" 

"let's just go." 

"... okay." 

he doesn't even spare the reporter another glance. because the second you asked him to leave… everyone else stopped mattering. 

on the drive home, he's still grumbling. "swear they got microphones instead of manners." 

"you almost fought someone." 

"almost?" 

"okay, maybe definitely." 

karasu tabito

karasu is incredibly good with words. it’s exactly why reporters hate arguing with him. they never realize they've lost until the interview's already over. 

someone decides to be bold and asks, "your girlfriend receives criticism for attending so many of your matches." 

"yeah." 

"is she doing it for publicity?" 

karasu raises an eyebrow. "mate." 

"yes?" 

"she’s attendin’ my matches. that's... what partners do. unless yers doesn’t." 

clocked. 

the interviewer coughs awkwardly. "moving on–” 

"nuh uh." karasu smiles. "finish that thought." 

"well..." 

"because if support suddenly became controversial..." he leans forward. “football's gonna have a real problem." 

every clip from that interview goes viral. 

people in the comments keep saying, "he debates reporters like he's writing a dissertation” or "bro got cross-examined." 

another day, someone corners you alone while karasu is finishing sponsor photos. they keep asking increasingly invasive questions. you're visibly uncomfortable. 

karasu notices from halfway across the room and immediately excuses himself from the photoshoot. he walks over, sliding seamlessly into the conversation, one arm resting around your waist. "everythin’ alright?" 

the reporter brightens. "perfect timing! we were asking–" 

"was she answerin’?" 

"... well–” 

"didn't think so." he smiles politely. "conversation's over." 

then he quietly asks you, "ya okay?" when you nod, he kisses your temple. "good. now c'mon." 

later, he tells you, "ya never owe anybody yer time just because they have a camera." 

it's something he reminds you of often – fame shouldn't mean strangers are entitled to pieces of you. 

kaiser michael

kaiser has spent years dealing with tabloids. he's been criticized, idolized, torn apart, praised. almost nothing surprises him anymore. 

except seeing someone aim that cruelty at you. that's the one thing he still hasn't learned to tolerate. 

a journalist smirks. "your girlfriend seems to be benefiting greatly from dating the world's best striker." 

kaiser smiles calm, yet dangerous. "is that so?" 

"wouldn't you agree?" 

"nein." 

"why not?" 

"because she was already extraordinary before she met me." he folds one leg over the other. "if anything… i simply have the privilege of standing beside her." 

every headline the next morning focuses on that quote instead. 

another reporter refuses to let it go. "surely the criticism affects your relationship." 

"not particularly." 

"how can you be so certain?" 

"unlike strangers..." he smiles faintly. “i actually know her." 

interview over. 

when photographers become pushy, kaiser doesn't lose control. he takes control. 

he'll quietly move you to the inside of the sidewalk, away from the crowd, and rest his hand against the small of your back to subtly guide your pace. 

if someone tries cutting between the two of you, they physically can't. kaiser positions himself with practiced precision until there's no opening. 

every movement is intentional, protective without making a spectacle of it. 

one night you admit, "sometimes i wonder if everyone's right." 

he immediately looks at you, genuinely confused. "about what?" 

"that i'm too much." 

he walks over and gently lifts your chin. "lie." 

"what?" 

"that's not your voice. that's theirs." his thumb brushes your cheek. "don't confuse the two." 

then he kisses your forehead with a tenderness almost no one else ever gets to see. 

the world may know michael kaiser as arrogant. but you know the man who quietly pieces your confidence back together every time someone tries to break it. 

ness alexis

ness is painfully aware of how cruel public attention can be. he knows what it's feels like to have thousands of strangers decide who you are without ever speaking to you. 

because of that… he notices the moment you're uncomfortable. before you even say anything. 

during interviews, he'll keep subtly checking on you from across the room, making eye contact every few minutes. silently asking, you okay? 

if you smile, he relaxes. 

if you don't… he's already finding a way to end the interview early. 

one reporter decides to push. "your girlfriend has become quite the controversial figure." 

ness nods slowly. "... and?" 

"do you think the criticism is deserved?" 

his expression immediately falls. "no. of course not.” 

"why?" 

"because i know her. the internet doesn't." 

the reporter presses further. "but surely thousands of people can't all be wrong." 

ness actually frowns. "thousands of people have been wrong before. history proves that quite often. next question." 

another time, someone rudely interrupts you while you're answering. they keep talking over you over and over. 

ness finally speaks, firmly enough that the entire room goes quiet. "she was speaking. please don't interrupt her again." 

it's such a simple sentence, yet somehow everyone immediately apologizes. it’s the fact that his disappointment is palpable. 

afterwards, when you're alone, you sigh. "i feel bad." 

"for what?" 

"everyone always asks about me instead of football." 

ness stops walking. he turns toward you completely. "listen to me." he waits until you're looking at him. "you never have to apologize because someone else chose to be disrespectful. that's their decision. not yours." 

later that evening, he notices you've been reading comments again. so he quietly takes your phone, sets it face-down on the table, climbs onto the couch beside you, and wraps both arms around you without saying anything for a long time. 

eventually, he mumbles into your hair, "they only know headlines." he squeezes you a little tighter. "i get to know your heart." 

to ness, there has never been a fairer comparison than that. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[ka1rin]

Did You Get Enough Love? Fourth of July — Sufjan Stevens

Sae Itoshi x Reader , genre: angst

Sae Itoshi didn’t like you at first.

Not even in the complicated way people later romanticize.

He genuinely found you unnecessary.

You were always there after practice, leaning against railings like you had nothing better to do, calling his name like it was something you were allowed to say without consequence.

“Morning, Sae!”

He didn’t respond.

He rarely did.

Most people took that as a warning.

You took it as… neutral. That was your first mistake, according to him. And the second was continuing.

Because you kept showing up anyway.

With coffee you never got thanked for. With snacks he never asked for. With conversations that filled silence he never offered back.

“You’re really hard to talk to, you know that?” you said one day, walking beside him as if you belonged there.

“I’m not here to talk.”

You hummed. “Yeah, I noticed.”

And then you stayed anyway.

Sae told himself it was pathetic.

That you were chasing something that didn’t exist.

That eventually you would get tired and disappear like everyone else did when he refused to soften.

But you didn’t, you adapted instead.

You stopped trying to force him to respond and started existing beside him like his silence wasn’t rejection—it was just a language you were willing to learn.

And slowly, that became the problem.

Because Sae started noticing you when he didn’t want to.

The way you waited even in bad weather. The way you never complained when he was late. The way you always positioned yourself slightly behind him like you didn’t want to overwhelm him with your presence.

You weren’t loud in the way he thought you were at first.

You were consistent. And consistency, in his world, was dangerous.

Despite his desires, he maintained a safe distance. He understood that wanting things could make people vulnerable, and Sae Itoshi couldn’t afford to be vulnerable.

So when he snapped, it wasn’t sudden. It was pressure finally finding an outlet.

It happened after practice, when exhaustion sat heavy in his bones and frustration had nowhere else to go.

You were talking again.

Of course you were.

Something soft. Something normal. Something he couldn’t tolerate in that moment because everything inside him already felt too tight.

He stopped walking.

You almost walked into him.

“Sae?”

“Do you ever stop talking?” he asked.

You blinked, caught off guard.

“What?”

“You’re always there,” he continued, voice sharpening as if he could cut the feeling out of himself. “Always following. Always waiting. Always acting like I owe you something just because you decided to stick around.”

Your expression shifted slowly.

Not anger.

Confusion first.

Then something quieter.

Hurt, recognizing itself too late.

“I don’t think you owe me anything,” you said carefully.

“That’s not what it looks like,” he snapped. “You’re exhausting.”

The word landed heavier than he intended.

There was a pause after it.

“Oh,” you said softly.

Just that.

Like something inside you had quietly fallen apart and you didn’t know how to hold it in place anymore.

Sae felt it immediately.

That twist in his chest. That instinctive wrongness.

But he didn’t stop.

Because stopping would mean acknowledging what he’d already done.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he added, quieter but still sharp. “I don’t need someone inserting themselves into my life like this.”

Your hands tightened around your bag strap.

“I… I thought I was helping,” you said.

“You weren’t.”

You nodded once, small and controlled, like you were trying not to take up space even in your reaction.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Then you left.

And Sae stood there long after your footsteps faded, waiting for something to feel like relief.

It never came.

At first, he told himself it was fine.

Peaceful.

Better.

But the world didn’t feel better.

It felt wrong.

Too quiet.

Too wide.

Too aware of what was missing.

He started noticing it in everything.

The absence of your voice before practice. The empty space where you used to stand. The way his body automatically slowed down near places you liked to wait for him, even though you weren’t there anymore.

Days passed.

Then more.

No messages.

No greetings.

No annoying persistence he had once pretended to hate.

And the silence started turning into something else.

Regret, slowly forming shape.

Because now, without your presence clouding it, he remembered everything differently.

You weren’t forcing yourself into his life.

You were trying to stay in it.

Even when he gave you nothing.

Even when he made it difficult.

Even when he never once said “stay.”

And still, you stayed.

Until he made it impossible.

That realization didn’t come with tears.

It came with emptiness.

A hollow understanding that something irreplaceable had quietly left his life, and he had been the one to push it out.

For the first time, Sae looked for you.

Not casually.

Not accidentally.

Deliberately.

He told himself it was to fix things. To correct what he said. To reduce the weight sitting on his chest every time he thought about your face.

“I was wrong.”

That was what he repeated to himself.

“I didn’t mean it.”

But apology is meaningless when it arrives after absence has already settled in.

He found you at the crosswalk.

It was ordinary at first.

Too ordinary.

You standing there, waiting for the light like any other day.

And for half a second, relief hit him so strongly it almost made him stop.

He took a step forward.

Then another.

“Hey—” he started.

And then the world broke.

The sound came first.

Violent. Sharp. Final in a way his brain refused to accept.

A car didn’t stop in time.

Movement where there shouldn’t have been movement.

Your body falling in a way that didn’t belong in reality.

Sae ran before thought caught up.

“No,” he said immediately. “No, no, no—”

He reached you in seconds that felt like hours.

And you were there.

On the ground.

Breathing wrong.

Fading in uneven pieces like your body had forgotten how to stay.

Rain mixed with everything he didn’t want to understand.

People shouting behind him. Someone calling emergency services. The world continuing like this wasn’t the end of something important.

But Sae couldn’t hear any of it properly.

Because you were looking at him.

Of course you were.

Even now.

“Sae…” you whispered.

His hands shook the moment he touched you.

“No,” he said instantly, voice breaking. “Don’t talk. Just—just stay still. I’m here.”

You tried to smile.

That same smile.

The one that never asked for anything back.

“You came…”

And that was what shattered him.

Because even now, even like this, you were still relieved he was there.

Like he had never been the one who hurt you.

“I was going to say it right,” he said quickly, voice cracking as it rose into panic. “I was wrong. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t—I just needed time, okay? I just needed—”

Your fingers weakly found his.

And held on.

It wasn’t strong.

It was enough to ruin him.

“It’s okay,” you whispered.

“No it’s not,” he said immediately, gripping your hand harder like he could anchor you to him through force alone. “It’s not okay. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Your eyes softened in a way that made everything worse.

Like forgiveness had already been decided long before he asked for it.

People were shouting closer now. Sirens somewhere distant but not fast enough. Time collapsing in on itself.

And Sae finally understood the cruelest truth of all.

He hadn’t realized what he had until he lost it.

And now, holding your hand while it slowly stopped holding back—he realized he would spend the rest of his life learning your voice in memory.

Because that was all he was going to be allowed to keep.

Note: For those who chose Hugo, I will also post it because it’d be a shame to make it rot in my notes. Hope you guys like it! :)

[miiroki]

Older! Rin Itoshi is a boob guy! ★ (NSFW) ﹙𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹚

ಣ Rin isn’t the type to vocalize what he likes, to be honest, he’d rather die than admit to having "sexual" preferences. But his actions give him away every single time it’s almost pathetic. He is, without a doubt, a total tits guy…

ಣ Rin tries not to ogle, but his eyes track your movements so intensely. If you wear something with a lower neckline, or a top that hugs your curves just right, you’ll catch his gaze dropping for a split second before he snaps his eyes back to your face, scowling a little harder than usual to mask the distraction.

ಣ When you two are alone on the couch after a gruelling day of practice, his favorite way to unwind is having you lean back against him and his hands will almost always automatically find their way to your waist, slowly sliding upward to rest just beneath your chest, his thumbs tracing the lower curve of your breasts, occasionally grazing just above your nipples. As sexual as it is, it’s also a grounding feeling that just makes him melt.

ಣ If he’s feeling exceptionally exhausted (and uniquely needy), he will lay his head right in your lap, burying his face directly into your chest. He loves the warmth, the smell, the softness, and the rhythmic sound of your heartbeat, when his face is smushed in your cleavage it makes him feel like he’s surrounded by you, and it's the only thing that actually silences the soccer-related voices that tell him to destroy in his brain. Rin works himself to absolute exhaustion on the pitch literally everyday, meaning when he finally crashes, he sleeps like the dead. His favorite position (to no one’s suprise) is burying his face entirely into your chest, wrapping his long arms around your waist like a vise so you can't escape. Because he falls into such a deep, heavy sleep, his jaw slacks completely. You’ll wake up in the morning to find a massive, damp wet spot right in the center of your chest or tank top. When you nudge his shoulder to wake him up, he’ll pull back with a string of saliva still connecting his bottom lip to your skin. He’ll blink blearily, look down at the absolute mess he made on your breasts, and like the bum that he is he’ll just go back to the position he was previously in.

—

NSFW…

ಣ Rin is not gentle when he’s fully invested. Something inside of him loves the contrast of his rough, calloused, athletic hands against your soft skin. When he's thrusting into you, his hands will firmly cup and lift your breasts, molding them to the shape of his broad hands. He likes feeling the weight of them in his palms, often squeezing tightly enough to leave faint, temporary marks. He’ll pinch your nipples, rub them in circles, and do just about anything to make you feel overwhelmed.

ಣ Rin prides himself on absolute control, but your chest is his kryptonite. If you ride him, he’ll lean his head back, his eyes completely locked on the way your breasts bounce and move with the rhythm. He loves to slide his hands from your waist up to your tits, holding them in his hands gently enough to feel the bounce of gravity. It’s one of the few times his stoic expression completely breaks into something raw and unhinged, to the point where he’ll retreat back to his habit of drooling.

ಣ Ever since you two got together, he’s developed this messy, primal oral fixation when it comes to your chest. He doesn't just give you neat little kisses, he is feral, covering the slopes of your breasts in wet, open-mouthed kisses, licks, and heavy sucks. By the time he moves up to kiss your lips, your entire chest is slick, glistening, and completely covered in his spit. He loves looking down at his handiwork, taking a perverse pride in how messy and wrecked he's left you looking before the main event even starts.

ಣ Sometimes there are rare moments when the pressure of everything just gets to him, and he becomes incredibly needy and overwhelmed. He will coerce you down onto the bed, tear your shirt open, and bury his face between your breasts, moving his mouth wildly over your skin and suckling on your sore nipples just to ground himself. He’ll often fall asleep like this. Being a pro player is no joke, good thing he can just take it all out on your poor tits. ❤︎

[riccyyvalz]

u luv talking to rins dick ଓ ༘˚˖ content | nsfw, bf!rin, gn!reader, handjobs, praising rin cuz he needs it

“aww, y’so hard for me, aren’t you?” you coo sweetly, staring right at rin’s exposed dick.

rin sputtered, narrowing his eyes. though, a hilariously visible blush etched his cheeks. “d—don’t do that,” he cracked.

you smile, slowly letting your tongue fall past your lips and lightly lap at the base of him. rin squeaked quietly, his body tensing immediately.

you pull back, bringing a hand to wrap around him, thumbing his slicked and blushing tip.

“dripping so much,” you murmur. “you like being such a mess, hn?”

rin shuddered, his breath dropping to hasty shivers. he watched with gleaming eyes as you talked to his dick like it was your only friend in the world, and it made such an unfamiliar spark of arousal ache in his stomach.

his voice was a sheepish mumble, “stop talking to it like that . . .”

you kept idly tracing your thumb along his tip, giving him no sense of relaxation. his entire body was bleeding with heat and pleasure, making him look all shy and pathetic with plump, blushing cheeks.

“but look at him,” you say, tightening your grip on him just slightly.

“ah— st—stop,” he mewled.

his mind raced. feeling both exhilarating pleasure and unbearable embarrassment was a mix he didn’t think he’d be so into. but here he was, throbbing at the breath of you fanning his desperate cock.

your hand began shifting up and down his length, making him sound out stifled and strained moans. it was all you could hear. until—

“gonna make you feel so good,” you murmured against his length. you stilled your hand, planting a soft kiss on his pre-slicked tip.

“mmf—“ he whined.

you could see the colour of his tip pulse and ache into a blush. letting your eyes drift upwards, you saw the flustered and glossy look on his face that undoubtedly made you squeeze your thighs together.

you brought your hand back to his length, stroking him at a steady, tantalizing pace. the warmth that radiated from his flushed dick pooled into your hand alongside the wetness of his pre-cum.

“s’cute, all hard and dripping for me,” you whisper, your breath hitting his exposed skin.

“y/n—” rin moaned, carrying both admission and apprehension.

“gonna make such a mess on my hand, yeah?” you continue, your hand pumping along his length with a lewd schlick, schlick!

rin shivered from your words. he brought his hand to his lower face, muffling his not-so quiet moans.

you chuckle lightly, your parted lips hovering over his dick as you watched intently at the pulsing and jittery twitches his blushing tip made.

“such a pretty little thing,” you sigh against him.

rin’s chest tightened unbearably. his hips jolted slightly, reenforcing the rhythm of your hand. a strained groan escaped his chewed-up lips as his dick began splurting cum out. your hand didn’t waver from its pace, letting your palm and fingers become coated in his pathetic arousal.

“oh, wow,” you feign a shocked gasp. “such a good boy for me.”

your hand finally stilled. rin limply sunk more into the bed, pink and dazed.

“good boy,” he panted. “good boy,” he repeated to himself, more silently, more in awe. rin now knows — he has a praise kink.

— ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

[sunnyriccy]

saes mean to u as he fingers u content | smut, fem!reader, fingering, degradation, cum swallowing

“look at you,” sae muttered in your ear. “so wet for me.”

his two fingers kept pumping in and out of your wet cunt, making you let out a moan of pleasure each time. sae had you looking like a flushed, sweating wreck. shaky legs, quivering lips, glassy eyes.

and fuck. with the amount of juices gushing out of you, you might as well have given your whole body up for him. every single time — he was able to make you so fucking wet. all from his mean, mocking words.

the rhythm of his fingers pushing and pulling out of your pussy was accompanied by the sloppiest schlick! schlick! sounds. that with your whines, you were the loudest thing in the room.

“so fucking loud,” he groaned airily against your face. “do you ever shut up?”

“mmf . . .” you stifle a moan. his words hit you right in the face, making a wave of pleasurable self-resentment make your pussy even more wet.

the corner of sae’s mouth twitch slightly upwards. “you like when i do this? how fucking filthy.”

he stopped the pace of his fingers. at the feel of him taking them out, you ravenously felt empty and starved. the walls of your wet cunt pulsed inwards and outwards, absolutely desperate for him.

his fingertips ran down your slick folds, making you shudder.

“a—ah!” you squeak.

“yeah,” he whispered lowly, his heavy-lidded eyes focused on your bare wet pussy. “look at that. so damn wet.”

he watched closely this time when he inserted his two fingers back into you. staring at the gradual stretching of your glossy cunt. his tongue unconsciously swiped his bottom lip, showing his clear arousal.

the sounds of his fingers fucking you echoed in the room with those same sloppy, gushing schlick! schlick! sounds.

“y’hear that?” he slurred, now looking up at you. “that’s all you.”

your throat ached from your crying moans. before you could even begin to say anything, sae leaned in, kissing you with filthy fervour. you couldn’t catch your breath.

he pulled away, his gaze boring into your teary eyes. “gonna cum all over my fingers?”

“y—yes,” you sputtered, spit bubbling out of your shaky mouth.

sae scoffed, narrowing his eyes slightly. “filthy girl.”

you sucked on air as your body went cold. then, heat — everywhere.

squirt!

“hnngh . . !” you groaned, feeling your pussy tenderly squeeze around his fingers, sopping with your slick and oozing cum.

“yeah,” sae breathed, his breath fanning your face. “cum all over my fingers.”

your lower stomach slowly drained of tension. the more you rode out your orgasm, the more the knot inside you unraveled. fuck. it felt so good. you involuntarily bucked your hips slightly up, making sae’s fingers hit a new angle inside of you.

“hah— ah!” you whimper, the pleasure blanking your mind.

sae clicked his tongue, pulling out his fingers once your high died down.

and he shoved them into your mouth without a second thought.

“mm—!” you muffle in surprise, the taste of your own cum short circuiting your mind.

“c’mon, taste how fucking gross you are,” he cooed mockingly. “you loud, pathetic fuck.”

you instinctively followed his words, slurping on the goopy, slicky coating on sae’s fingers. sae watched, his eyes lightening up at the sight of your pathetic, big-eye gaze.

he finally forced his fingers out your mouth, watching as you swallowed. he imperceptibly bit his lip, his hand sliding down to adjust the erection in his pants.

“you’re so fucking disgusting,” he whispered raspily. he leaned in and lightly nipped at your neck. “it’s so fucking hot.”

— ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

[riccyyvalz]

kissydrunk rin ₍ᵕ. ̫.ᵕ₎ content | fluff, bf!rin, gn!reader, kissing, touch-starved aw so cute lozl

rin had truly, madly, deeply fallen for you. in the beginning things were for sure awkward. but gradually, rin grew less tense. he used to be unable to look into your eyes for more than five seconds. now, when with you, he barely looks anywhere else.

but there was one specific thing that changed dramatically. rin, with his completely null experience with romance, was always so shy when it came to physical contact. he’d make sure to avoid it at all costs, even if it inconvenienced him. but, of course, as you two grew closer, he turned into a complete suck. because he loved kisses. something about the feeling that welled in his heart when his lips met any part of you completely enchanted him. he now made sure to always have an excuse to kiss you.

he’d be snuggled tightly against you, his face burrowing deep in the crook of your neck. as you absentmindedly twirled ur fingers in his hair, he’d be sleepily peppering your neck with feather light kisses.

“mm,” he’d hum contently with his lips on your skin, not caring if he had begun drooling on you (it’s happened before).

in the quiet mornings, he’d stir awake from his sleep before you. he’d press his lips against your forehead, feeling the softness of your skin that dusted along his lips. he’d slowly press a soft kiss on your mouth, gently pathing his tongue past your lips. it’d wake you up. he’d give you a sleepy, yet ever so dreamy, gaze as you finally fluttered your lids awake. kissing you awake was one of his favourite things in the morning.

one evening you were cooking dinner. rin had arrived home not long ago. he had gone to the shower straight after stepping in the front door.

but once he had gotten out of the shower? you felt the presence of him padding up behind you. the lathered scent of his soap laced together with the aroma of the food.

the feel of his lips brushed against your temple.

kiss. kiss.

kiss. kiss.

“rin, you’re distracting me,” you murmured playfully.

he fully clung to you now, his arms wrapped around your waist. his head tilted as his lips traveled the contouring of your face before he stopped at your neck. you could feel the damp tufts of his hair prickling at your face, causing a tiny smile to etch onto your own lips.

“mm…loveyous…” he mumbled quietly, his lips not once leaving your skin. “d’wanna..stop.”

you fully relax into his touch as he planted an open-mouth kiss on you again. you could never let go of the kisses rin always gave you. because, well, there was a time where he didn’t even touch you.

— ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢