saestarrr!

jade. 🌾 she/her jjk, csm, bllk, kny + ! Reqs closed :(

[saestarzz]

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mini writing blog! mdni :p

rules! m.list (under construction)...

MY FAVS ATM SO PLS REQUESTTTTT AHHH:

JULIEN LOKI (!!!), SAE ITOSHI, MICHAEL KAISER

NO FEEDING MY WORK TO AI OR ANYTHING OF THAT SORT. (pear of anguish if u do i ain't playin)

[attyammy]

have you ever done aegyo with your life on the line

[saestarzz]

[saestarzz]

omelettes ft. Sae Itoshi

making omelettes and gatekeeping the recipe are sae's secret talents.

just a cute lil drabble I came up with bc I couldn't sleep 🙃 sae itoshi x g/n reader cw: literally just straight sae and fluff.

Sae is great at making omelettes. Like, strangely great. You wouldn't expect it, since he doesn't excel at much besides football, and cooking isn't exactly his strong suit, (he's the type of person who eats straight ingredients to be more efficient), but the omelette is the one dish he always gets right.

It must've been the only dish his mother taught him to make on his own. Or just something he randomly got good at and has perfected over the years. You can see it in his technique. Every whisk of the egg is strategic. He puts just the right amount of butter onto the pan for a rich outside without making it unhealthy. When he folds the omelette, it's like a weight is lifted from your shoulders - regardless of the fact that you know it'll turn out the same as ever. Perfectly golden and fluffy every time.

Sae also has the strange power to make any random shit from the fridge he dumps into the omelette taste good.

Old kebab? Still great.

Apples? Weird, but good.

Sardines? (Okay that's where you draw the line, but he's a freak so he'll eat it anyway because it has calories and protein).

Basically, Sae Itoshi is the Gordon Ramsay of omelettes. And you never let him hear the end of it.

"Hi, Gordon Ramsay," you laugh one morning as he hovers over the stove, giving his ass a tap from behind. You lift the tinfoil up from the steaming pile of fresh ones on the counter. "Look at how perfect those are! That's impossible."

"You say that every time, but any idiot could learn how to do it," Sae grumbles.

"You said you'd teach me. Stiiiiill waiting."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm a busy guy, you know that," he retorts. "I'll teach you tomorrow morning."

"Mhm. Sure."

(And yes, he secretly puts off teaching you how to make them yourself so that you're forced to rely on him).

[saestarzz]

starcrossed lovers ft. Julien Loki

you and Julien Loki are destined to fail.

julien loki x childhoodfriend! fem reader cw: stupid angst :(( w/c: 2133

The moment eight-year old Julien Loki laid eyes on you as your family moved into the house next-door, he knew he was yours.

"She's having a tough time finding friends at school. Be nice to her, okay?" his mother told him one night as she tucked him into bed, shortly after your family had settled into the neighborhood.

He nodded eagerly. "Okay, maman."

"Gentil garçon," she told him, patting his head.

Maman didn't have to tell him twice.

The first time he talked to you, you were sitting by yourself in the courtyard, mindlessly picking weeds growing out of the concrete with a pout as the other children played amongst themselves. How sad you looked. He finally decided to approach you with a toothy smile, a football tucked underneath his arm.

"Hello," he said politely. "I'm your neighbor, Julien."

You glanced up at him with glossy eyes, letting out a sniffle. "Oh. Hello."

Just as you were about to introduce yourself, he held out his hand. "No need to introduce yourself, neighbor. I know your name already."

His slight invasiveness seemed to cheer you up a little. You graciously blinked away your tears. "Okay."

"Why are you crying?" he questioned, cocking his head to the side.

"When I asked Jenna to play, she and all of her friends laughed at me."

"Oh. She's stupid anyway, so it doesn't matter. Wanna play football with me?" he asked.

You shook your head. "I don't know how."

"You're funny," he laughed, taking your hand in his. "C'mon. All you have to do is kick the ball to me so I can score."

"Okay."

The two of you became quick friends.

After that, nearly every day after school was spent together; running around town, playing in his backyard, tagging along whenever his mother went to the grocery store. Eventually, the two of you became inseparable.

And of course, his friends teased him about it.

"Julien's got a giiiiirlfriend," Lucas pestered at football practice.

"I do not," Julien huffed. Internally, he smiled to himself. Yet.

Years passed. You only grew closer. Except, you changed.

You were beautiful. Of course, you'd always been beautiful to him. But now, you were striking. All of a sudden, you weren't the same weird girl he'd grown to love. You cared about how people saw you. You grew breasts, which meant boys flocked to you like seagulls. Jenna, (yeah, the same asshole Jenna who'd made fun of you just 8 years ago), was now your best friend.

You still hung out with him. Yeah, sometimes these hangouts would be in large groups of friends, meaning he barely even got the chance to talk to you - but what did that matter? And maybe that, combined with the amassing amount of time-consuming pressure put on him to become France's next legendary striker, meant Julien really hadn't had any one-on-one with you in years, but that didn't change anything, did it? You were still his. There was no universe in which he wouldn't be sure the two of you would end up together. In his eyes, it was inevitable.

And then, you got your first real boyfriend.

He'd found out through a friend. Some super popular guy from the upper class had apparently wooed you over or some dumb shit like that.

Julien had to suffer seeing the two of you walking together in the school hallways. He clenched his jaw whenever your friend groups hung out and the two of you would kiss or make out in front of him like he was invisible. He had to restrain himself from pouncing on the guy when you'd watch football matches cuddled up to his side.

Julien could never understand. Those would be his matches in the future. Why spend them snuggled up to some nobody on a couch when you could literally be in the stands, rooting for a man who was so clearly superior? Who was praised by the masses for being a literal football genius? Who used to be your best friend?

Eventually, PxG gave him a massive offer to play for France's national team in Paris. Around the same time, you experienced your first heartbreak.

He was taking a winter jog in the neighborhood when he saw you walking your dog, looking as helpless and upset as the day he'd first met you. He noticed the tears glassing over your pretty eyes. You even sniffled the same.

For a second, he considered not saying anything; turning the other cheek, and continuing his run. However, the second his eyes met yours, he knew he wanted to change something.

Taking out his earbuds, Julien jogged across the frosted street to you; same toothy grin he had as a kid and everything (this time, with a full set of adult-teeth). "Hey. I feel like it's been forever."

You smiled back meekly, wiping your tears on the back of your sleeve. "Hi. Ugh, sorry..."

"Why are you crying, Chérie?" he asked, cocking his head to the side in sympathy.

"It's nothing. Marco broke up with me."

Ah, Marco. That was his name.

"Oh," Julien said. "I mean, it's okay. You were too good for him anyway. So it doesn't..."

He stared down at your teary-eyed expression, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Matter."

Why would you be crying over a guy as small as Marco? He'd never even heard of him. Plus, hadn't you only been together, for, like, a couple of months max?

"I'm sorry," he managed to say, shoulders slumped. "I hope I didn't make things worse, I was only trying to-"

"You know, all of my friends took his side. Like, I haven't been fun at parties any more, and I've just been a drag to hang out with, according to them."

He sighed. "What does that matter at all? If they were really your friends, they'd love you for you."

You shook your head. "They don't, but they're probably right."

Julien scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't get you. Why would you care about the opinions of a group of incompetent imbeciles? You're different from them."

"I am one of them," you reminded him. "They're my friends."

Julien's tone harshened. He couldn't help it. "Well, they're so obviously idiots. And you deserve way better."

"Telling me my friends are idiots won't exactly make me feel better," you chuckled, wiping away salty tears. His eyes softened apologetically.

"What would make you feel better, then?" he asked gently.

You smiled weakly through your tears. "A hug."

"I can do that," he said. "Come here."

Pulling you into his embrace, you felt as if no time had passed since the two of you had hugged for the first time. In just a moment, you were kids again. The same kids who played parkour around the park for hours after school. The same kids who would share an ice cream cone after they were too tuckered out to play anymore. The same kids who sprayed each other with hose water, and cried when they were separated.

"Wouldn't it be nice," you began, burying your face into the crook of his neck, "if it was just the two of us again?"

His grip on you tightened. "I..."

"I miss you. We haven't hung out in forever. And I don't know if it's just because we've changed, or whatever, but I still miss you," you told him. "We were best friends. I still consider you my best friend. So why don't we just stick together after New Year's? I just... Why don't we..."

Julien's heart dropped as he heard your muffled cries into his neck.

How was he supposed to tell you?

His lips barely brushing the crown of your hair, the words felt like nails on a chalkboard escaping his lips. "I..."

He squeezed his eyes shut. Courage, Julien. Courage!

"I... got an offer from PxG," he muttered ashamedly into your hair. "I won't be here next year. I'm moving to Paris."

Oh.

Your beautiful face, flushed and stained with tears, finally revealed itself. "Really?"

"Yeah." Julien scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

You cleared your throat, pulling away slightly. "Well, um, congrats. That's huge!" Were you misinterpreting your relationship after all? Did he really plan to leave without saying goodbye?

"Thanks," he said, almost pulling you in closer again, but then gradually letting go himself. "I'll keep in contact. You know that." Why were you pulling away? After all these years, did you still not want him?

☔︎

The day Julien moved out, you helped his family move furniture just as he had helped yours years ago.

You said your goodbyes. He kissed your cheeks for the last time, trying his best not to let the bitterness in his heart display on his face. Come with me, every fiber in his soul told you. Please, just quit everything in this stupid town and come with me and love me like I've always loved you.

But of course, he didn't say anything. It was either staying in this town, and dreaming about becoming the world's best, or going to Paris, where he could actually become the world's best. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

So he left. He watched your sullen face blur through the car window as he made his final departure. Closing his eyes, he tried his best to engrave your features in his mind. He'd never even kissed you. Never even gotten a chance to hold you.

The move to Paris was hard. Adjusting to the new team was even harder. Even some of the men on Les Bleus were insufficient for Julien's hungry demands. Too slow. Too stupid. Too old. Not enough.

The only person who shared his ambitious dream of winning multiple World Cups, was of course, Vivien Hugo. The two became fast friends. You would like him, he thought.

His promise to keep in contact soon became a distant memory. With football taking up so much of his schedule, it was impossible to keep up with life in his hometown. He didn't know where you wanted to go for university. He didn't know if you were scared for le bac, or what you wanted to be when you grew up besides a mermaid. He didn't know anything about you anymore. And neither did you.

So he buried you into the back of his heart and chased his dreams in Paris. Dominated the field until football and his health and winning were all he could see, and nothing else mattered.

Until he was harshly reminded otherwise, years later.

It was the second half of the game. The score was 1-1. There were barely thirty seconds left on the clock. Julien weaved through Norwegian men effortlessly like magic, slowly but surely making his way across the seemingly endless field.

There were ten seconds on the clock when he finally made it to the penalty box. Julien glanced to his right.

No. What was he thinking? If anyone could do it, it was him.

So he shot.

The goalkeeper's glove just barely skimmed the bottom of the soaring ball. Julien blinked.

When he opened his eyes, the ball had sunk into the net.

"GOOOOOAAAAAAL!!!" the announcer screamed.

The crowd bursted into hysterics.

French fans jumping up and down, hugging each other in tears. Norwegian fans with slumped shoulders and long faces shouting in anger and defeat.

Julien ran into the arms of one of his teammates, pumping his fist up in the air triumphantly. For a moment, the world wasn't real. There was no way that was real.

He soaked in the moment, eyes glazing over the overwhelming crowd. So many people in the stands. So many people from his country, cheering for him, admiring him.

And then he saw you.

Both your eyes widened as the two of you made contact for what seemed like centuries. You were so beautiful. With the French flag painted on your cheeks and his number across your chest, he felt like you were already his.

He smiled at you and waved. You waved back, a glint in your eyes that looked like tears. Of course. You were always an easy crier.

And then the sight of your face was stolen from him, tilted towards another guy next to you. And that guy's lips pressed onto yours. And then your lips curled into a smile. Julien's own faded in an instant. At that moment, a teammate ushered him into the locker room for a team celebration.

Julien's teammates sprayed him with champagne and slapped his back as he entered the locker room, showering him with praise for earning them the last-second win. Julien smiled politely. But in reality, he'd lost.

You really had made it to one of his games in-person, after all.

But as he should've predicted, you weren't his.

[itoshiabi]

We had a Bunny, now we got a Teddy too 🤣

[saestarzz]

who are you lil bro 😂

[saestarzz]

omg i love your writing hello? LIKE I'M ABSOLUTELY DEVOURING THIS LIKE YES GO!!! so anyways i'd love to ask if you could write blue lock boys (michael, barou, bachira, rin, sae, isagi) x fem reader who put on that plumping pepper or mint lip gloss whatever, and she kisses them everywhere on purpose and now they're dying because ouch why does it burn 😭😭❤️ love ya thank youu

YES I LOVE THIS IDEA ITS SO CUTE. (ignore the orange for bachira, I really wanted to do yellow but I have no idea how to make text colors other than the like 5 other options 🥲)

cw: suggestiveness on kaisers part, swearing

how the blue lock boys would react to being attacked by lip plumper ft. kaiser, barou, bachira, rin, sae, + isagi! (implied fem. reader)

To Kaiser, this stunt was more a betrayal than a prank. For one, he'd never been the blushing one in the relationship before. He was supposed to be the one with the tiny tricks, the smooth words that made your face heat up and turn the same shade of pink he wore on his face currently. But your usual blush didn't come with a stinging defeat both in your chest and literally on your face, did it?

Funnily enough, he'd been the one to bring it onto himself.

"You look good," he remarked with his usual smirk as you got ready for plans with your friends. "Come here."

You mocked annoyance as he tugged you into him, rolling your eyes while secretly giddy with amusement as you applied some more of the plumper for good measure. "Come on, Micha, I have to get going..."

"Can't I hold you back for just a minute? God, so impatient..." he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you tightly. "Give me a kiss at least before you go."

You sighed. "Michael-"

"At least on the cheek? Are you not my girlfriend?" he pouted.

Jackpot!

You pressed a haste kiss to his cheek. He grinned.

"Why not on the other, too? For good measure."

Another. Then another. And another.

"Looks like someone finally came to their senses," Michael said, obviously bathing in his own ego as you peppered his face with endless kisses. Unfortunately for him, though, you had a trick up your sleeve.

Just as you'd expected, as you left the house, Michael suddenly called out for you, clearly trying to hide the desparation in his voice.

"Schatzi, what the hell was on your lips?! My face burns!"

"Have fun with your interview," you responded, chuckling to yourself menacingly as you left the front door. How did he like the taste of his own medicine?

Staring at his itchingly red face in the mirror, he clenched his fists. Did you literally just give him a lipgloss hit-and-run?

Unlocking his phone, he called you almost instantly.

"Very funny," he said as you picked up. "Hilarious."

"I know, right?" you snickered on the other end. "If only I could've seen your face before I left. Send a photo."

"Like hell I will," he grumbled. "How long is it going to be like this? It burns."

"Relax, Michael," you chuckled. "It was a joke. It'll probably go back to normal by the end of the day. If not, you can book a facial with the lady I go to, okay?"

Michael scoffed as he hung up. "Yeah, I'll give you a facial tonight," he muttered under his breath.

Oh, he was so getting back at you for this.

Barou, being the borderline-OCD clean freak he is... omg, he would be piiiiiiissed. I mean, first offense, he fell for it, and now his entire face was literally beginning to burn. Second offense? What the hell were you thinking, slobbering some mystery gloss onto his face? Now, not only did he have to wash his face for the third time that day, but he'd also be left with a temporary reminder of his failure to keep his guard up on his face. Never again.

It started with a few sneaky kisses to his cheeks as you passed by him lounging on the bed. Once you actually sat down and eased him into tolerating it, you knew you'd gotten him good.

"Is that a new lipgloss you're using?" he'd asked.

"No," you murmured into his cheek, trying to hide your smile. "Stay still."

"Hmm. It smells kind of minty. Fresh. I like it."

Five minutes later, Shoei was hunched over the sink, profusely rubbing gentle circles over his reddened face like a madman.

"Sho, I said I was sorry..." you apologized, trying not to burst into laughter as he scrubbed his face for the nth time. "Here, I'll give you a real kiss this time. Without the gloss!"

He shook his head. "Kisses have now been prohibited for the next three days," he muttered, squeezing more of your (shared) cleanser into his palm and foaming it up with his hands. "I don't trust you."

"Come on, it was just a harmless prank!"

"A 'harmless prank' doesn't give your face a chemical burn! Is kissing me normally just not enough for you?!"

His pride was definitely wounded.

Bachira would 100% take it as a challenge to try and flip it on you. He was no stranger to this game. The two of you constantly played pranks on each other, after all. But this was something he'd never seen coming. Well, not that it didn't intrigue him.

"Hey, Megs!" you called out. "Come here a sec."

"'Kaaaay."

Applying some more of the gloss, you whistled innocently as your boyfriend bounced into the living room.

"What can I do for my lovely girlfriend?" he beamed.

"Just come here," you smiled, stretching our your hands towards him. "I just wanna be next to you for a moment."

Meguru yawned and plopped down on the couch next to you. "Sure."

"C'mere," you muttered, taking his face in your hands and pressing soft kisses (attacks) against his cheeks and forehead.

Beginning to settle into the couch, he grinned from ear-to-ear. "Huh. You really like pampering me today, don't you? Your lips feel like cushions."

"Yuuup. Just like cushions." In a few moments, they'd be needles.

Just as you'd planned, after a few minutes, his smile faded. "Baaaabe... why is my face beginning to burn?"

"You've fallen into my trap," you said, smiling deviously.

"What the... did you do the one-chip challenge or something?" he groaned, itching at his face only for his fingers to be coated with sticky gloss. "Is it your lipgloss?"

"Lip plumper," you corrected, stifling a laugh.

"Oh-ho," he said, shaking his head with a smirk. "You're done for."

Moments later, Meguru had you practically suffocated beneath him, smothered in his own kisses.

"I can't help it," he laughed, kissing you until your own face went red from both embarrassment and laughter. "The monster is telling me to do it."

"Meguru, stooop!" you squealed as he playfully kissed your cheeks for the nth time.

"Now we're even," he said matter-of-factly.

Your boyfriend's antics never disappointed.

Rin wants to act like he's nonchalant, but on the inside, he's dying. What was the point of both catching him lacking and pranking him? Was his humiliation really that funny to you?

"Rin," you cooed, your lips covered in burning plumper as he slowly blinked awake. You discreetly angled your phone so that the camera picked up his face. He'd just fallen asleep in the middle of the day, and now was the perfect time to catch him off-guard. "Rin, wake up."

Rin wrapped the covers around his shoulders, making a tight cocoon of sheets for himself. "Mm... what is it?"

"Do you... want a kiss?" you whispered, trying your best not to erupt into laughter.

He grunted, the corners of his mouth turning up ever-so slightly. "Yes, please. Wanna kiss."

You stifled back a laugh, leaning over to press dozens of tiny kisses across his face. By the time you were done with him, his face was practically covered in gloss.

"That tickles," he muttered sleepily, swiping his index finger across his cheek. "You really couldn't have taken off your lip stuff first?"

"Sorry, but I needed it for this," you chuckled.

"Huh? Needed it for what, baby?"

"This," you repeated, holding your shirt over your mouth to keep from laughing.

Rin's eyes finally opened fully. "Needed it for- ow, what the... my face burns like hell."

"What? Why?" you asked, feigning innocence.

Wiping the gloss off his face with the back of his hands, he rolled his eyes, clearly oblivious to the fact that his fake nonchalance would not make up for his beautifully bright-red complexion. "You know why. What is this, plumper? Nice try."

Finally revealing your phone, you held it up in his face with a shit-eating grin, pointing at it mischievously. "Well, I've got it all on video, and you should probably see how red your face is right about now."

Instantly, Rin swatted at your phone desperately, covering his face with his other hand. "Bro, are you fucking record- get your damn phone out of my...!"

"You'll have to catch me if you really want me to delete it," you laughed, scrambling off your knees to sprint out of the room. Rin followed close behind, only to trip on the sheets, which made you double over with laughter and bump your forehead on the wall.

The two of you laid on your bedroom floor for the next thirty minutes; you, dying of amusement, and him, contemplating his life choices.

"I swear to god, if I get up and my face is still red, I'm going to-"

"It is," you answered with a grin. "I don't think it's the gloss anymore, though."

He sighed, pulling you closer with his arm. "I'm gonna kill you."

Sae doesn't really know how to react. Inside, there was a part of him that wanted to laugh. But was it really funny when it came at the expense of his dignity?

The idea came on a whim. You'd been wanting to go out with him for weeks, only for him to argue that he needed his "rest" at home - "rest" being sitting hunched over on the couch, endlessly analyzing his past matches and grueling over some "Iglesias". You were barely able to have fun with him anymore. This seemed to be the perfect idea for payback.

"Where're you off to?" he asked casually from the sofa as you applied the plumper to your lips in the mirror by the door.

"Out with friends," you responded, pressing your lips together. "Since we've been living like cave people in this penthouse for the past month."

Sae chortled. "Don't be like that. Let me see you."

You sauntered over to him smugly, placing your hands over your hips. "I look great. I know."

"Better than great," he said, cocking his head. His teal eyes darted down to the tube of gloss in your grasp. "This that lip thing that you so desperately pleaded me to buy for you?"

"I'd say you gladly volunteered to buy for me," you rebutted. "But I haven't been able to use it, since, y'know, we haven't gone out."

Sae shook his head with a faint smile, leaning back onto the cushions. "Nothing gets past you. Alright. Have fun."

This was your chance - the designated period where you were expected to kiss him goodbye. You leaned in, pressing multiple strategic attacks onto his forehead and cheeks.

"Ugh... save the gloss - that shit was expensive," he scoffed afterwards, wiping some of the excess off of his face.

"Nothing you can't afford," you called out as you made your exit. "Love you! Let me know if anything... itchy happens!"

"Itchy?" Sae muttered to himself, raising a brow. That was weird.

As if on cue, after a couple minutes of his usual peace, his face began to itch. Then burn. Switching onto the camera app of his iPad, he stared at his face in horror. Completely red. Was it that damn gloss? He should've known his own girlfriend would've been capable of a strategic revenge like this. What a loss of dignity on his part.

Which was why the second you got home that night, hammered out of your mind, Sae chuckled by the door, immediately ready to snap a picture.

"Look who's red now?"

Isagi can enjoy a prank every now and then, but this was just plain cruel. The two of you had just gotten into it about his trash-talk on the field, (reasonably), which put a bit of a strain on your guys' relationship. He argued that it was just his personality on the field, and that a little trash-talk never hurt anyone. You argued that arguments went way beyond the field, and that being known as "slursagi" was not good for his image in the slightest.

Ultimately, the two of you ended up in a stalemate - disputes felt repetitive, so you stopped bringing it up to him and just accepted the fact that your boyfriend was just a natural born trash-talker.

But it was never too late to prove a point, was it?

You'd applied the gloss as thick as you could without it glooping off your lips. Settling down next to Yoichi on the couch, you wrapped your arms around his.

"Hey, babe," he muttered, ruffling up the hair on top of your crown.

"Can I try something?" you asked him sweetly, offering him an innocent smile.

He nodded. Brushing his bangs out of the way, you pressed your first kiss on his forehead. Then, his cheek. Other cheek. One on his nose. He furrowed his brows as you kissed him almost endlessly, leaving a tiny shine on his skin from all of the transferred gloss.

"Uh... thanks?" he cheesed awkwardly, pressing his own kiss to your temple.

As intended, mere minutes later, Yoichi's skin burned a bright pink. He winced. "Dude. What the hell did you put on your lips? My face burns!"

You nodded in satisfaction. "See? Words can lift people up, but they can also hurt - so can kisses."

"Uh, what?! What are you talking about?"

You groaned, palming your forehead. "It's a metaphor, Yo."

"Ow- what the hell is this metaphor?! I thought we were good?!"

Sigh. Your boyfriend would never get it.

A/N: REFERENCESSS HEHEHEEEE Rin: those videos where girlfriends baby their boyfriends while they're sleeping and get caught lacking lol, that one photo of rodrick heffley pointing at his phone like 😃 Sae: sofatoshi, iPad kid sae Isagi: slursagi

[hanako-miyamoto]

I NEED MORE LOKI CONTENT

I AM BEGGING ALL BLLK WRITERS PLEASE WRITE MORE OF HIM HE DESERVES IT I SWEAR

No cuz WHAT did kaiser and sae do to get THIS much content?????

DON'T GET ME WRONG I LOVE THEM BUT IT'S NOT FAIR THEY GET A LOT OF CONTENT BIT HUGO AND LOKI DON'T

I can understand hugo for a newly introduced charter he's getting A LOT but LOKI??????? CMON YALL

[saestarzz]

THIS IS SO REAL I'VE RESORTED TO MAKING MY OWN CONTENT LOLOL

(Also sorry I haven't been posting im working on a req and some other things so stay tunedddd!)

[kenyudotcom]

good looking boy.

you are no stranger to michael kaiser.

no matter what he does; he can cut his hair, tattoo his red eyeliner, dye his ends blue, become a world-famous soccer player, find meaning to life... that man will always have a visceral reaction to your name.

they say that hair holds memories.

when micha was still your sweet boy, you would take care of his hair for him.

it was long and blond—natural and beautiful, in all its glory. you'd brush through it, time after time.

his hair was so well-kept, even when long and left open while playing soccer, because it was you who tended to it. you'd rake your fingers through it while he bent over the bathtub, laughing at how he groaned in discomfort, yet refused to take a break.

you'd tousle it with a towel, trying to dry it a little before letting it air dry. on winter evenings, you'd blow dry it, brushing it out as he'd tell you about his day. begrudgingly, but it was progress.

when he truly just wanted to chop it all off—start over, or end it there—, you'd be extra gentle. you'd let him sit with his back against the bathtub, his head leant back slightly so that you could lean over him and massage the soap in and out of his hair from the front. he'd never admit it—and fuck, he wishes he did—, but it felt nice.

you'd tousle it with a towel from the ends, to not cause more distress or pressure at his head. you'd blow dry it and brush it out as usual, being careful to not pull at knots too hard.

finally, before he'd fall asleep in your arms, you'd braid his hair.

one long, loose but neat braid. he grew quite fond of it, over the amount of draining days he saw, before he went pro.

before he went pro and ditched you.

so yes, kaiser, the new-gen 11 prodigy, thinks about you sometimes.

whenever he comes home from a rough day on the field, and his hair is greasy, and it's itchy, and he's hyperaware of how it's touching his skin, he doesn't tie it up in a braid.

one, because it's now cut into uneven chunks. and two, because it would remind him of you.

you, who treated him with such tenderness and kindness that he had never seen or felt before. only dreamt of.

you, who adored his long, blond hair.

you, whose name would forever be a chapter unopened in his book of life.

you, who thought he was beautiful, even before all the hair cutting, hair colouring, tattooing and finding meaning in life.

hair dye, tattoos, fame, reasons to live—they all fade. but his memory of you does not falter. what a burden to bear; a reason to live deterred.

but is there truly any meaning to life, if he's lost you?

© kenyudotcom 2026 feeding to ai, plagiarism and claiming as own are strictly forbidden. likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[saestarzz]

BYE JUST STAB ME IN THE CHEST I GUESS 😂

[saestarzz]

the only man in the sky - ft. Michael Kaiser

SMUT MDNI!!! homelander-ish michael kaiser x publicist!reader been watching the boys and I've been thinking Kaiser gives off major homelander vibes 👀 anybody else agree? like they are both deeply insecure terrible narcissists with a twisted ass need for love. so here you gooo, one kaiser fic with hella homelander references and shi 🤫 cw: BREATHPLAY, unprotected p in v, slight overstim

Oh, boy.

As Michael Kaiser's publicist, after the last match against PxG, you knew there would be a PR crisis on your hands the next time you saw him. You'd seen the match. Michael had taken a greatly ambitious shot, only for it to miss the goalpost entirely. His devastating miss had been spread all over nasty headlines - which obviously meant it was your responsibility to clean it all up, while also making sure he wasn't tempted to do anything that would absolutely ruin his reputation, as he was often inclined to do. What a mess.

So it was no surprise when Kaiser called you out of the blue as he usually did when things didn't go his way, yelling into his phone that he was on his way to see you.

"Have you seen the memes about me?!" Michael erupted with anger, clenching his fists in rage as he barged into your office and locked the door behind him. "Posting them should be a goddamn crime."

You raised a brow. "Uh, I don't-"

Michael tossed his phone onto your desk. "Here. Take a look."

"They're not... I mean, they can't be... that bad..." you managed to spit out, scrolling down to a TikTok captioned: "kaiser misspact 🥹✌️". You grimaced. Well, you had to admit - that was pretty damn bad. But seeing your walking-red-flag of a client this angry was like watching a tornado gain momentum. Once he grew furious, there was nothing calming him down.

"Don't they know I'm their king? Look at what I'm given to work with! The rest of the team are fucking assclowns. I'm not like the rest of them." He took a deep inhale, rubbing his temples. "I'm stronger. I'm smarter... fuck, I'm better. I am better!"

"Look, Michael," you said, attempting to regain control over the situation. "I'm telling you, as your publicist, we can take control over this. But an egotistical outburst is the opposite of what we need right now."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Is it really if it's the truth?"

You clicked your tongue. Really, what was wrong with this guy? "Just... breathe in," you told him.

Obeying, he inhaled shakily.

"And breathe out."

Michael exhaled through pursed lips, eyes focused on you the entire time. "You really think that's gonna calm me down? What am I, a fucking kid?"

"It always works for me." You shrugged. "And what I need most right now is for you to calm down, or I'm afraid we're going to have another PR disaster on our hands like the last time you acted out on Twitter like an idiot. I don't want to have to get you out of that kind of mess again. So do it again."

"Whatever," he muttered.

"Inhale," you said again. He inhaled.

"Exhale."

Out of nowhere, Michael took your hand and placed it on his chest. You could feel everything. His heartbeat. The air leaving his lungs, softly brushing against your nose as he exhaled.

And that's when you noticed how close he was.

Your eyes blinked open in surprise, heartbeat pounding against your chest as his piercingly blue irises gazed into yours. "I don't... this is inappropriate."

He glared at you through furrowed brows. "So?"

"I'm your publicist."

Michael scoffed. "You say that every time. Quit acting like it's the first time we've done this."

Well, it's not like he was wrong. "Still, it's..."

Your hand flinched against his chest. He squeezed it tighter in response and shifted it lower, running your fingers over the ever-growing bulge in his sweatpants. Hesitantly, you rubbed your thumb against the raised fabric until it grew damp, lip quivering in intrigue. In response, he tilted his head back in satisfaction, eliciting a quiet moan.

"Want to help me de-stress? This is how."

❤︎

It was a good thing Michael had locked the door after him, because the sounds of your moans and the wet friction between the two of you could only be called one thing - unholy.

"Fuck, you're so tight..." Michael gasped, clenching your hair in his fist as he sat you on your desk and stood in-between your legs, pounding his throbbing cock into you angrily until both you and your sopping pussy saw stars. "What, you that scared of me?"

You squealed in response as his tip hit your cervix, sending shockwaves of pleasure down your spine. "N-No, sir...! M-mm...!"

"Too... shit- too fucked up to talk?" he mewled, mock sympathy spread across his features as he jutted out his bottom lip and pouted. "Breathe, beautiful."

Placing a hand on your stomach, he pushed you down onto your back, your mug of colorful pens and pencils on the desk tipping over as a consequence.

"Fucking breathe in," he ordered again against your cheek. You whimpered as you took a deep inhale, his long fingers nudging up your shirt and splaying against your bare stomach to feel your respiration.

"Michael," you cried, digging your nails into the back of his neck.

"Breathe out," he chuckled softly, letting out a soft grunt as his hand pressed against the outline of him that revealed itself as you exhaled, the very evidence of his conquering of you. "Fuck, that's so hot."

"Do it again," he told you, rutting his hips into you even faster, his thumb traveling down to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You squirmed, letting out a pathetic whine. The stimulation of it all was too much for you to handle - your words were practically reduced to babbles. "Micha, I'm-"

"I don't give a shit if you're close, so am I..." he groaned, burying his face into the valley of your chest. "Do it- mmh... do it again."

You breathed in, mind beginning to blur. "That's it..."

And then you breathed out.

You came, orgasm crashing down instantly, vision hot and fuzzy as his sticky cum spilled into you and dripped onto the desk.

Only this time, you knew something had changed in him. You could see it in the way he stayed inside you for a minute until he softened fully. The way he held your jaw in his hands and made out with you sloppily until drool ran down your chin. Something trembled inside you. Was it fear? Was it love?

❤︎

You passed out on the office couch afterwards, too fucked out to even conjure a thought.

Michael, however, prattled on as he usually did, insisting that you were the only one in his thoughts, and admitting his undying affection towards you unashamedly. Something had changed in him. Was he possessed?

"You're the only one who understands me," he muttered, nuzzling his head into your lap. He looked up at you, eyes hungry with possession. "I'm fucking obsessed with you."

"I feel the same," you said half-heartedly, stroking his blonde strands.

He smiled contently. "You know, if I ever really thought that you'd fallen for someone else..." He paused, squeezing your wrist. "I just... I don't think I could handle it."

"I- Yeah, I feel the same."

Shit. You'd definitely screwed yourself taking this job.

ALSO GUYS JUST WANTED TO POINT OUT I chose breathplay bc homelander likes to hear peoples' heartbeat and breaths while kaiser likes to check his vitals to "feel alive in numbers" and they'd definitely be into that freak shit THEY'RE SO SIMILAR AREN'T I SO SMART

[saestarzz]

sleeping with rin ft. rin itoshi

as requested by @ushi010101 👀 I looove the idea of rin being super clingy at night, unlike his brother! Also Obsession mention bc i feel like rin gives off those vibes lol

Surviving the night beside your boyfriend Rin often proved to be a ridiculous combination of constantly turning over in your sleep like a rotisserie chicken to avoid overheating, and lots and lots of patience.

Completely contrary to his personality, Rin was a surprisingly clingy sleeper. Nights with him were spent either completely suffocated by his weight on top of you, or trapped in his possessive embrace. To him, it was only natural. Why would he ever want to let you go? You were his, after all. You were the one who completed him, the one who gave the world some sense again after countless interactions with lukewarm individuals and "NPC's".

If there was anything you could count on whenever the two of you fell asleep together, it was the fact that you would wake up in a tornado of limbs - not knowing where his ended and yours began. Sure, knowing your boyfriend enjoyed being as close to you as possible made your heart melt. But, like a regular person would, often times you found yourself wanting just a little bit of space.

So, on a whim, you decided to test the waters. In the middle of the night, as slow as the separation of Pangaea, you began to pull away from his grasp inch-by-inch. There's no way he'll notice this, you thought. I'm barely moving.

But apparently, you thought wrong.

Rin instantly caught onto you. "Stay," he grumbled under his breath, pulling you into his chest impossibly tighter. "Stay."

You groaned in frustration. "Baby, quit saying it like that," you muttered. "We literally just watched Obsession. Don't freak me out."

You accepted defeat and went back to sleep. Maybe you'd need a One Wish Willow to get out of this one.

[saestarzz]

MUTUALS ALREADY??? WOAH TAKE ME OUT TO DINNER FIRST

MY FIRST EVER MUTUAL IS A BOSSSSSSSSS

and yeah for the record I followed back like a minute after them 😎

[saestarzz]

does using capitalization and shi make my fics less aesthetic 👀

asking bc I feel like my theme is lowkey ass and I noticed that other pages don't use it and it looks rlly cute and aesthetic but I also have hella ocd about capitalization and grammar in my fics and stuff 🥹

Should I capitalize?/should i capitalize

Use capitalization!!!

yo FUCK NAHH 🤫

Voting ended onJun 27

[saestarzz]

normal people ft. Otoya Eita

otoya eita x fem reader cw: mentions of sex, suggestiveness, etc. heavily based off of sally rooney's normal people omg they make me sick... 😕

It'd been a year since you'd last seen him.

A year since you'd left your hometown for university and never looked back.

A year since you'd last seen his scornful face as you snuck into his house at night for the final time, and not even saying a word to him at graduation the next day.

Because it was wrong. Because you were the girl at school who nobody even acknowledged; the girl nobody even cared about enough to make fun of.

That was why the two of you decided to keep it a secret. So you could love and fuck from a distance while keeping to your own agendas - him, maintaining the role of campus playboy, which meant playing around with other girls like he always did, and you, keeping it up as the nobody, so you wouldn't draw any extra attention to yourself. Either way, the main concern for secrecy was to avoid scrutiny from the insane trashpile of popular people Otoya liked to call his friend group. Which, to be fair, was something you'd have liked to avoid.

By the end of high school, the two of you had inevitably drifted apart. Otoya was off playing soccer, or partying with his thousandth "socially acceptable" girlfriend he'd had in the span of your relationship, and you were busy studying for your future. Which you'd always been so serious about - and he never understood why.

Eventually, you got into different universities. He stayed local, close to home. You went far. Far away, into the heart of Tokyo, where you could become someone different; someone who wasn't afraid to be seen. Someone who wasn't afraid to let go and gain independence, nor command their own respect. You'd grown from him. You didn't need him anymore.

Which was what made the sight of him at the local convenience store so devastating. You'd just come home for summer vacation. You didn't want to start this again - no, you'd been avoiding this very day since you decided you weren't going to let others dictate your decisions and twist your idea of love. The moment he caught sight of you, you knew you'd have to stay strong.

He'd grown taller. Shoulders broader, finally filling out his plain white tee like he'd always wanted since you were first years. University must've matured him.

"Hi," he said, sauntering up to you. "It's been a while."

You smiled politely. "Yeah. Sure has."

A group of schoolgirls passed by, giggling at the "handsome university boy" currently beside you. Otoya waved. You rolled your eyes.

He laughed. "Last time I saw you, you were in one of those uniforms."

"We... I... both..." you stuttered, tripping over your words as you carefully thought of something to say to destroy him. "Yeah, that's funny that you say that. Uh, how's uni up here?"

"Pretty boring," he muttered indifferently. "Pretty much everyone I... we know went to the uni up here. It's basically high school all over again. Just with wilder parties."

You shrugged. There was your opening. "Well, I never went to parties, so I wouldn't know."

"Oh. Right."

The two of you sat in silence, pretending you were busy browsing items. Otoya knew how you felt about him. He knew the hurt he'd caused you, the pressure he'd placed on your consciousness to not tell anyone, not stand out, and not do anything without permission, as one wrong move from you could've ruined his reputation. He knew he'd treated you badly. Would his pride have allowed him to do anything about it, though? Absolutely not.

You stared down at the refrigerated drinks. That's right. You used to come here often with him in the dead of night, where there was no chance that anyone could've seen you. He'd buy you a cold drink with electrolytes to cool you down after he fucked you. He'd throw in a bag of chips if the words "I love you" accidentally slipped from his lips when he came. How kind.

You were about to comment on the memory when you noticed how tense Otoya's jaw seemed.

He cleared his throat. "I've been meaning to say... I feel, uh, bad. For the way we left things."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "It's..." you began. "I mean, it's not like it was ever really a thing, was it?" You laughed nervously.

"Wasn't it? A thing?" he said quietly. "I mean, do any of your friends know about what happened in school?"

"I thought you knew me better than that, Otoya. I didn't have any friends," you laughed.

"Well, would it be embarrassing anyway?" Otoya's brows furrowed. "If they- if people, had found out?"

You thought about it for a beat, then nodded. "I guess, in a way, yeah."

"Why?"

"Because it was humiliating. I guess, the fact that I put up with it. With you," you answered truthfully.

Otoya clicked his tongue at that. Rocked back and forth on the balls of his heels, hands shoved into his pockets awkwardly.

"You know, apparently people at our school already knew that we were, like, seeing each other."

"I didn't tell anybody," you reassured him. "I swear."

He shook his head. "I know you didn't. I just meant, like, even if you had, it wouldn't have mattered."

"Well, what did they say? Were they terrible about it?" you questioned, chest a little tighter than usual.

Otoya chuckled to himself lightly. "Nah. Karasu told me a while back. Everyone knew, and no one gave a fuck. Like, at all."

Your shoulders slumped. So there was never a point to this. To sneaking around. To only holding hands when fucking. "So what was this all for, really?"

He thought to himself for the longest you'd ever seen him, eyes focused on the ground like he'd ashamed himself. Whether it was for playing you or being with you, you weren't sure. "Not sure," he concluded. His half-lidded eyes ran across the condom section. "We used to come here all the time, didn't we?"

You smiled weakly at the useless nostalgia. "Yeah. You used to buy me drinks and snacks here."

"I thought this was just the condom place," he said stiffly.

"Oh. Maybe you're right." Memory ruined.

Otoya paused. "Well, would you want to do it again?"

"Do what?" you asked meekly.

"You know... do you want to come over? I've got my own apartment now."

You wanted to say no. That you weren't ever going to take him in again. That you'd moved on from this, and that you were a thriving university student who didn't need someone who was going to stay in the same place their entire life.

But you couldn't muster up the courage.

So you said yes.

"We'd better get going, then," he said. "It's getting dark.

You followed him back to his apartment a few blocks away, and soon realized that you'd never felt the sun on your fingers laced against his. You'd always done this at night. In secret.

It all felt so familiar. The brief kissing, the demanding tug of his fist on your clothes as he signaled for you to take them off. His apartment was small, but nice. You had to find your way to his bedroom. That, you weren't used to, because usually the way these things worked was by him climbing up to your window.

He was warm. Big, but almost like a missing piece of you. He felt the same as ever. More experienced, though. University was probably to blame for that.

He didn't cup his hand over your mouth out of fear like he used to. Instead, he slotted his fingers between your lips and told you to suck, told you to be louder, told you to be everything you weren't allowed to be when you were smaller and immature. It wasn't secret. But it felt shameful anyway, like you'd slept with the enemy. Because technically, you had.

When you came together, he didn't say "I love you". He kissed you instead. It didn't feel less than, though - you'd learned over the years that actions meant far more than words.

Afterwards, the two of you reminisced about old memories together for the rest of the night. You rested your head against his chest, remembering how weak you really were, and wondering if this could be something real this time. Something outward. Something unapologetic.

"Want to go to the convenience store again?" you asked against his chest. "I'm kind of tuckered out."

"Nah. I've got beer in the fridge if you want any," Otoya muttered. You frowned. What did you expect?

After all, he'd grown from that.

It was only a matter of time before you did.

[saestarzz]

your boyfriend as... a dictator?! ft. Julien Loki

little drabble bc dictator mbappé is legit the funniest thing ever to me rn lol 😭

It was bad enough that Julien regularly came across "kawaiicore" edits of him on his feed, with filters ballooning his eyes and devastatingly emasculating pink cat ears that made him sigh every time he saw them... but now, this?!

On your phone was a TikTok slideshow full of AI pictures of him wearing a military uniform with ominous music in the background. The caption? Le dictateur. (#dictateur, #julien loki, #fyp).

"Oh, putain de merde." he muttered as you laughed hysterically beside him, collapsing onto the couch. "Water was really wasted for this shit? This guy better delete it."

"The dictator doesn't like it," you cried, stomach cramping from your giggles. "'Delete', he orders."

Julien sighed. "I can't with you."

This was why he hated social media.

[saestarzz]

kinky love ft. itoshi rin

smut mdni!!! :x freaktoshi rin x femreader lol cw: slight praise kink, spit kink, creampie (?)

At first glance, no one could've guessed what went on between you and your boyfriend in the bedroom.

Maybe it was Rin's closed demeanor. Or the way he regularly dismissed most others' ideas as "lukewarm" and "half-baked", turning his cheek and plugging his ears to anything that did not serve or please him. But to outsiders, (and even you, sometimes), Rin came off as an unimaginative and closed-minded person. So when the two of you finally became comfortable around each other, and sex became a regular occurrence, you were met with a pleasant surprise.

Who knew he would've been so kinky?

"Fuck... yes, right there... keep fucking milking me dry, pretty..." he grunted as he streeetched you into a full nelson, blunt fingernails digging into the backs of your knees as he practically folded you in half and .

"R-rin! Fuck, 's too much... Please..." You squirmed and whined as he forced your knees even further back, making the limits of what you originally thought you could handle seem like it was nothing. This was definitely a new position for you. You weren't complaining, though.

"You're so pretty. Do you like that, sweet girl?" he muttered softly against your lips only a half-hour later, cock slowly sliding in and out of you effortlessly. It was like he was a missing piece of you. So sweet and caring he was, you thought. He loved you so affectionately and tenderly and attentively, and yet-

A few minutes later, he had you in tears. Pounding into you from behind, Rin's shoved his fingers from one hand into your mouth, his other hand preoccupied in slapping your ass every time your mouth even dared to open. "S-slow down!" Slap. You whimpered.

"Fuckin' slut..." he muttered to himself, his pace growing impatient as he yanked your head up by the ponytail and spit into your mouth, fucking into you ruthlessly. Your pussy fluttered weakly around him as he squeezed your fifth or sixth orgasm out of you - you'd came too many times to count.

By the time Rin had filled you with his seed for the nth time, he'd tuckered out. Collapsing onto the bed, he ran his hands through sweat-damp hair as he tried to catch his breath.

"Bend over in front of me," he said casually. "I wanna see just how good I fucked you."

Safe to say, Rin beat the stereotypes!

[saestarzz]

c'est la vie ft. Julien Loki (fem reader!)

In which your daughter interrupts Loki's zoom interview. Based off of this lmao. Also don't mind my french it's hella rusty

The interview was going to go smoothly. Everything was all according to plan. Just this last online interview, and Loki would be done for the day. In just ten minutes, he'd be at the dinner table with his family. In just ten minutes, he'd be freed from all formal duties and finally be able to put his PR-trained persona to rest. Just thinking about it made him dig his nails into the arms of his office chair. "You only have to scrape your way through these ten minutes," he told himself, clenching his jaw. "Just hang on. Focus!"

As the journalist prepared his questions, Julien straightened his posture and put on his warmest smile with what little strength he had left.

"Vous êtes prêt?"

"Mais bien sûr," Julien affirmed.

"Eh bien, laissons-nous commencer."

Julien knew the routine by heart.

3... 2... 1...

Action!

"Alors, Loki, je sais que vous devez souvent entendre cette question. Mais qu'avez-vous tiré de votre rôle de capitaine de l'équipe nationale?"

Julian waved his hand dismissively with a smile. Polished. Practiced. "Ah, mais ce n'est rien. En fait, j'aime cette question, car-"

A tiny voice called out from beneath him. "Papa, papa!"

Shit. Was he really so out of it that he hadn't even noticed his own daughter coming into the office? This was bad.

"...comme je disais, car il y a beaucoup à apprendre, surtout quand-"

"Papa! Mais tu fais quoi? Who is that?" your daughter interrupted again.

Julien smiled at the camera awkwardly as he tried to steer her away discreetly, stroking her curls. "Er... I'm in an interview, sweetheart. Why don't you go and play with your dolls and daddy'll be out in-"

"I can't see, daddy. Who is that?"

The journalist raised his brow on the other end. "Bah, si vous voulez faire une pause pour le moment-"

"Non, non!" Julien chuckled nervously. "Juste une seconde, s'il vous plaît."

Swiveling around in his chair, Julien decided to do the only thing that seemed correct to him in this situation. He called out for his wife.

"CHÉRIEEEEE?!"

"WHAT?!" you yelled out from the kitchen, transferring the chicken into the oven.

"WOULD YOU COME GET OUR DAUGHTER, PLEASE?"

"I'M BUSY!"

"I'M- IT'S A LITTLE URGENT! PLEASE?!"

"ONE SEC!"

Julien clicked his tongue, rubbing his temples. "Oh, mon-"

"But I wanna stay," your daughter whined. "I wanna play with you!"

"Yes, I know, but now's really not the time, sweetheart..."

"What, what is it?" you groaned as you finally made your way into the office, slapping your hands against your thighs.

Julien let out a sigh of relief, trying his best to maintain his composure. "I'm in an interview."

"Nobody can see me, right?" You glanced at the computer briefly.

"Yeah."

You nodded. "Come on, sweetie, out."

Your daughter folded her arms stubbornly, jutting out her lip. "No."

"Out," you said sternly. "Don't make me count."

"No!"

"Alright, that's it." Holding up three fingers, you counted them down slowly. "Un... Deux... Tr-"

"Fine, fine!" your daughter pouted.

Taking your daughter's hand, you shot your husband a glare. "You need to help me with the pasta later."

"Got it. Thank you, Chérie," Julien said, blowing you a kiss as you made your way out of the door. Whew. Situation handled. Narrowly. He turned back to the camera, picking up where he left off. "Alrigh- ah, pardon. Où en étions-nous?"

The rest of the interview went perfectly, save for the strange twitch in the journalist's eye. As usual, Julien finally found his day's peace at the dinner table. At night, he slept like a baby knowing how well he had handled the situation.

Apparently, the world said otherwise.

"Julien!"

In the morning, Julien woke to find you fuming beside him, your eyes narrowed angrily as you shoved your phone in his face.

He took the phone from you gently. Squinting at the screen with groggy eyes, Julien could barely make out the headline. Once he caught a glimpse of its contents, he immediately shot up and focused his vision.

"VIDÉO – Le nouveau capitaine de l'équipe de France interrompu par sa fille en direct!"

"Ever heard of muting and turning off your camera?" you sighed.

"I swear I did, Chérie, I'm so sorry I must have been-"

You rolled your eyes. "Well, it's too late to be sorry, because we're viral."

You scrolled down with your index finger and pointed at the screen. 3 million views.

"Fait chier," your husband muttered under his breath. He fell back onto his back, pressing the heels of his hands onto his forehead and wishing the bed would just swallow him whole.

Julien needed a break.

[saestarzz]

napping with sae ft. sae itoshi

Was looking on the bluelock wiki and apparently sae regularly takes 1 hour naps?! thought it was such a cute idea for a lil drabble so here you gooo. literally just straight fluff.

As much as your boyfriend rejected the idea of spooning, protesting that sleep was strictly a time of rest and personal space, you could always count on his mid-day nap as a loophole to his no-cuddling policy. By afternoon, after interviews and practices, Sae practically had no energy left to deal with people; not even to swat you away. So, to his misfortune, it eventually became accepted routine for you to snap on some brand-sponsored eye masks and settle down on the couch with him during his designated nap time - at exactly 3 pm.

"Alright," he would say, setting the timer on his watch. "Come here." And at 3 pm exactly, your only rule was to keep silent. Almost always, you found yourself on top of him, your head resting on his chest so you could fall asleep to his heartbeat. He'd tolerate the clinginess, just for an hour, and maybe unconsciously (?) sling an arm around your waist protectively. The two of you would stay like that until both of you fell asleep. Once you woke up, the precious hour would be over in an instant.

This habit of his (now, yours) had actually proved effective to your sleep schedule - you found yourself less groggy during the end of the day, and your overall energy had increased decently. Though often, you wondered, was it really the sleep that rejuvenated you, or getting to be in Sae's arms?

So, on an unassuming night, you decided to experiment. Shifting sneakily under the covers, you carefully took Sae's hand, beginning to wrap it around your waist as slowly as you could until you heard his tongue click. You groaned.

"Uh-uh," he muttered groggily. "Don't even try it, babe."

You'd get around to him someday.