i have a req (abt isagi, hehehe !!)
reader w big boobs? 👀 like imagine isagi getting home so tired and uses them as stressballs or lay on it, ykyk. or maybe him obsessed with it ! 😽
english is not my first language so sorry if i have spelling mistakes 😿
“𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫”
a/n: you're all good! kinda short but hope you enjoy!
(don't know art credits aaaaaaa)
suggestive content inside lol
it starts off innocent. kinda.
you’re sitting on the couch scrolling through your phone when isagi trudges through the door, soccer bag slung over one shoulder, hair messy, eyes half-lidded like he just barely survived training. he drops everything at the door, shoes kicked off haphazardly, and stumbles straight toward you without a word.
"rough day?" you ask, already knowing the answer.
he just lets out a groan and flops onto you. not next to you. not on the couch. on you. face-first. and not just anywhere, no, his head lands squarely in your chest, like it’s a damn pillow.
"you’re doing this on purpose," you laugh, brushing some hair out of his face as he burrows in deeper like a cat. he doesn't even deny it.
“you feel nice,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “soft… warm… perfect.”
his hands slip under your shirt, not in a pervy way (yet), but just to hold. squeeze. mold your boobs like they’re his personal stressballs. and they are, at this point.
you raise a brow. “yoichi.”
“shhh. my therapy session just started.”
you can’t help but snort. “this your new post-practice routine now?”
he nods against you, eyes closed. “mhm. coach says i need to stretch after training, so i’m stretching... mentally.”
“and my boobs help with that?”
his eyes finally crack open, dark blue and dead serious. “baby. they heal me.”
you’re wheezing now, but he’s still massaging them like he's sculpting clay, like he's trying to work through every ounce of his physical exhaustion with a double handful of your chest.
and when you try to shift away, he tightens his hold dramatically, mumbling, “no. you’re my sanctuary. let me stay.”
you flick his forehead. “you’re insane.”
“insanely in love with your boobs,” he says without missing a beat. then adds, softly, “and you. but mostly your boobs right now.”
you roll your eyes, but your heart does that stupid flutter thing anyway. he’s a menace, but he’s your menace.
and maybe… just maybe… you kind of like it when he uses you as his personal comfort zone.
you tap his head. “you drool on me and i’m charging you tax.”
he grins against your skin. “worth it.”
© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢
