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Magma collab w @homophobic-homosexual-seri
Morning Routine Chapter 3
Summary: Lucia convinces Sae to host another livestream, leading to a chaotic hotel Q&A where fans bombard him with bizarre questions. Despite his constant annoyance, his dry responses only make viewers love him more before he signs off in search of some much-needed peace.
word count: 867
Tags: Sae Itoshi, Blue Lock, Sae Itoshi-centric, Streamer AU, Emotionally Repressed Character, Deadpan Humor, Inner Monologue Heavy, External vs Internal Conflict, No Romantic Pairing
a/n: Sorry about the delay, guys!!! You can find the link to Chapter 2 here! Thank you for reading!
Little By Little - Pg. 1
Poetry Between The Shelves
Pairings: Sae Itoshi x Fem!Reader
a/n: welcome to little by little ♡ i've been dreaming about writing this story for a while now and i'm so excited to finally share it with you. i hope you'll fall in love with these two as they slowly fall in love with each other. thank you for reading!! 🌸
Synopsis: The university's star midfielder wasn't where you expected to find him.
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, university au, library au, fluff, comfort, slice of life, yearning, soft!sae, itoshi sae x reader, blue lock x reader
୨ৎ
Days like this made you wonder why you'd ever decided that spending four years analysing books was a good idea.
You were already on your third coffee of the day. You refused to think about how many energy drinks you'd gone through over the past week. The only thing keeping you sane was your favourite spot in the library.
You loved this spot for a lot of reasons. One of the biggest was that it was perfect for people-watching. The windows opened up to the small garden in the centre of the library, filling the space with warm afternoon sunlight, and from here you had a direct view of everyone coming in and out of the library.
The library was unusually quiet for a Thursday afternoon. A few students whispered over laptops in the corner while someone on the second floor shelved returned books with dull thuds. Every now and then, pages turned somewhere nearby. It wasn't silent, it was just quiet enough to pretend you could concentrate.
You read the same sentence in your book for the fourth time in a row. No matter how many times your eyes went over it, it just wouldn't stick in your brain.
Sticky notes peeked out from nearly every page of your book, each one covered in tiny handwriting of annotations you'd promised yourself you'd actually review later.
Your planner sat open beside you, every hour of the week colour-coded in different highlighters. Lecture, seminars, essay deadlines, and three different novels you were supposed to have finished by now. Everything looked organised.
You certainly didn't feel organised.
You sighed and reached for your coffee, only for your fingers to close around an empty paper cup. You frowned at it for a second before giving it a gentle shake, as if somehow a miracle sip would appear.
Nothing.
"...Right."
That explained why your brain had stopped cooperating.
You let out a prolonged groan as you dragged your hand down your face.
There was the muted shuffling sound the library entrance always made whenever someone walked in.
You looked through the gaps between your fingers and immediately recognised the student who had just walked in.
Sae Itoshi.
The University's star midfielder.
You weren't exactly caught up on the school's football team- between lectures, essay deadlines, and the never-ending pile of reading your professors assigned every week, you barely had time to remember your own schedule- but you knew who he was, almost everyone did.
You'd never watched one of his matches from start to finish. You had tried to, once, when your roommate insisted, saying something about "School spirit," whatever that's supposed to mean.
Somewhere between reading three hundred pages for class and convincing yourself you'd definitely start your essay tomorrow, you'd ended up skipping the match entirely. Still, you'd heard enough conversations around campus to know one thing.
Sae Itoshi was kind of a big deal.
That's not a face you see in the library every day, and especially not this close to football season. You looked down at your watch, you suppose you could spare a few minutes to people-watch and rest your eyes a little.
You sat up straighter.
Instead of heading toward the computers like most students, he walked straight to the classic literature section.
That alone caught your attention.
That's unexpected.
You watched as he browsed through the aisles, stopping in one and grabbing a book from the shelf. You squinted, trying to make out the title of the book in his hands, finding yourself weirdly interested in what would bring a guy like him here.
Leaves of Grass.
Huh.
Of all the books you'd expected the campus's golden boy to be reading, classic poetry hadn't even crossed your mind.
You'd actually read it before.
Not casually, either.
One of your first-year professors had been obsessed with Whitman and had assigned half the class to annotate Leaves of Grass. Your copy was probably still buried somewhere in your dorm room, filled with highlighted passages and increasingly dramatic notes written at two in the morning.
You remembered complaining about it at the time.
You also remembered secretly liking it.
Which was exactly the kind of embarrassing thing an English Literature major wasn't supposed to admit out loud.
Either way, it wasn't exactly the kind of book people expected a football player to borrow. You couldn't help sighing at yourself, you have got to stop making assumptions about people.
He settled onto one of the small couches, tucked between rows of books, crossing one leg over the other as he opened the book almost immediately.
No phone, no headphones. He was just... Reading.
You blinked.
You shook your head a little bit to wake yourself up. You had a fifteen-page essay due next week, and staring at an attractive stranger in the library probably wasn't going to help.
You picked up your pen and stared back down into your books.
You uncapped your highlighter, determined that the next sentence would finally make sense.
It's time for you to lock in.
────────୨ৎ────────
Sae sat down to read, but before he could even read one line of the book he felt a light buzzing in his pants.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
-Rin-
Practice got moved up to 4
Coach said don't be late
-
Sae glanced at the time at the top of his screen.
15:27.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
He'd been looking forward to the quiet hour he'd carefully carved out for himself. Football occupied most of his life, and reading was one of the few things that belonged only to him.
He would never tell anyone this, but he needed a break from football sometimes, reading gave that to him. When Sae read, no one expected anything from him.
He could lose himself in fiction for a while, or read poetry and find comfort in knowing someone, somewhere, had once struggled to put the same feelings into words.
He slipped his phone back into his pocket with another quiet sigh and stood up. Seems like he wouldn't be reading here after all.
His eyes wandered across the library—the entrance, the courtyard, the tables by the window.
That looked like a nice place to read.
Maybe he'd sit there next time.
His eyes kept wandering around the room before abruptly stopping when something caught his eye.
You.
The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting soft shadows across your face.
Your hair framed your features, the sunlight making it appear a shade lighter than it really was.
You bit your lip as you scribbled something into your notebook before running a hand through your hair to brush it away from your face. You looked completely absorbed in whatever you were writing.
Sae stood frozen for a moment as he admired you. For some reason, he couldn't pull his eyes away.
Something about you made the room feel quieter.
You weren't doing anything remarkable.
If anything, you looked exhausted—surrounded by books, annotations, and half-finished notes.
Yet somehow...
You were the only person in the room he seemed able to notice.
Wait.
He stopped the thought as soon as it entered his head.
Since when did he think about sappy things like that?
He shook his head and gripped the book tighter. He didn't have time for this.
He walked briskly to the counter at the front of the library to borrow the book. As the librarian checked the book out under his name, his eyes drifted back toward the window despite himself, at you.
The librarian had said something to him and he hadn't noticed, so cleared her throat and handed him the book. "Thank you. Enjoy your reading."
Sae was snapped back to reality.
He murmured a soft "Yeah, thank you," and turned towards the entrance. He left the library and promptly headed to practice.
The book stayed tucked beneath his arm the entire way there.
────────୨ৎ────────
You were cutting across campus on your way back to your dorm, finally leaving the library after six mind-numbing hours of reading, note-taking, and pretending to understand literary theory.
You were trudging tiredly on the path, holding a stack of annotated poems and essay notes that refused to stay organised no matter how hard you tried.
The sound of whistles and cheering drifted across the path, catching your attention. It was coming from the football field. They were practicing.
You glanced over almost absentmindedly before spotting a familiar head of hair sprinting across the pitch.
Sae Itoshi.
Even from this far away, he somehow made everything look effortless.
You watched him for a few seconds.
Far longer than you'd meant to.
Then you looked away.
Maybe you'd actually go watch a match this season.
For the school spirit.
...
Who were you kidding?
You just wanted to see if the mysterious poetry-reading football player was actually any good.
You sighed and picked up your pace toward your dorm. Your notes suddenly seemed much more interesting than the football field.
────────୨ৎ────────
Practice was already well underway.
The afternoon sun beat down on the field as the sound of footballs being struck echoed around the pitch.
Sae trapped the ball with ease before sending it across the field with practiced precision.
"Again."
The drill restarted.
A few minutes later, while jogging back into position, something beyond the fence caught his eye. A familiar figure walked along the pathway that ran beside the sports grounds.
You.
A backpack slung over one shoulder, headphones in, eyes fixed on whatever notes you were reading as you walked.
The girl from the library.
His eyes followed you for a second. Then another.
"Oi."
A ball lightly bounced off his leg. Sae looked up, and when he saw Shidou grinning at him, he immediately knew he'd been looking at you for too long.
"Never thought I'd catch you staring at a girl."
"In the middle of practice, at that." Karasu added.
"I wasn't."
"Mhm."
"You were literally watching her walk away," Karasu snorted.
Sae clicked his tongue.
"I was looking at the path."
Shidou hummed and gave him a look that said 'i don't believe you at all.'
"Sure you were."
Sae sighed, he didn't bother arguing with them, in no universe would that make this situation any better; they'd always find a way to tease him one way or another.
By the time he looked back you were already gone.
He clicked his tongue and forced himself to look back toward the drill.
The coach was saying something.
He hadn't heard a word of it.
────────୨ৎ────────
Some stories begin with fate.
Yours began because someone read poetry.
────────୨ৎ────────
End of Page One ♡
With love,
Hazel
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Assist me! Ch.3 Sae Itoshi x Volleyball Player! Reader
Strangers to lovers, fake dating
Prev | Next
Taglist: @hanaenim @arkaires @heatedflower @ashrxses @mjfr @saesaegull
Author’s note: fake dating tag relevant soon trust. wc 1.6k
Neither the dim hum of fluorescent lights nor the snappy chatter from the camera crew was nearly enough to distract you from the biting cold of the warehouse-turned studio.
The enormous, sterile-white cyc walls taper downward to present the set’s focal-piece—a beautifully sleek sports car, all expensive curves and glinting finish, the windows tinted lightly to reveal an equally sophisticated leather interior. Even without much interest in cars at all, you had to admit it was stunning. Luxurious. Precisely the sort of car you’d never be able to afford with your current, relatively fresh Jackals contract.
Well. Not without the money from this sponsorship, anyway. When your agent had forwarded you the contract, the stipulated payment was enough to make you gasp aloud. Way, way more than five times your salary, even with the performance bonuses you’d been earning (pretty frequently, as of late) and the Playmaker of the Year payout. Needless to say, it was a no-brainer to accept the sponsorship, Sae Itoshi be damned.
sae’s dick is so girthy.
“shh… just a little more,” sae croons as his hands are latched onto your waist slowly pushing himself into you.
you whimper slightly at his size the head barely pushed through your folds and you’re already a whimpering mess.
“i’m gonna push a bit deeper now, okay?”
you nod letting out a shaky breath he leans forward pecking your forehead with a soft kiss before moving his hips pushing his cock deeper into you.
“ngh- shit,” sae curses under his breath before doing one big thrust shoving his whole size into you.
you both softly groan at the sensation his face moving to rest and lick along your neck.
“…so tight.”
he breathes as he slowly rolls his hips into you. he lifts his head and looks all over your body before seeing your tummy bulge with his cocks imprint.
his fingers move to glide along the bulge making him chew on his lower lip letting out a grunt.
“do you see that?” he says pressing his palm down on the imprint of his cock making you squirm.
“y…yeah.”
he continues to slam his cock into you, hitting your womb making you moan out.
his girthy thick cock filling your insides with each push of his hips.
“m’ so full sae…”
you breathe out feeling the intensity of his thrusts. he leans forward brushing strands of hair off your forehead pressing a kiss,
“yeah? you feel full of my cock?” “you like that don’t you?” he says with a smirk on his face.
his balls slapping against your ass and the lewd wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you echoing through the dark room.
you nod biting your lower lip you can’t even think straight at this point.
sae shakes his head and shoves two of his fingers in your mouth.
“ah ah. no biting those pretty lips. you’ll make em bleed.”
you nod and suck on his fingers to distract you from biting down so hard on your bottom lip.
he groans when he feels you suck on his fingers making him slam deeper into you. balls deep. having you both panting.
“fuck. i’m so close baby.” “keep sucking my fingers like that.” you suck harder on his fingers feeling his cock slam into you thrust after thrust.
his girthy cock sliding against your gummy walls making you moan around his fingers.
and with one final snap of his hips he lets out a breathy moan spilling his hot load into you.
his balls tightening as he cums spurt after spurt. his cum dripping out of your pussy. he pants leaning forward pressing his face against your neck.
“mmgh. you did so good today. you barely whined.” he says sucking on your neck.
“let’s clean my pretty girl up now, yeah?”
he says leaving his cock in you for a few more seconds before pulling out. his cum fully spilling out of your white covered walls.
making him smirk at the sight of it,
sliding his fingers down at his left over cum and shoving his two fingers back into your mouth making you lick his seed.
A/N:
sorry this is lowkey buns… this is what happens when you don’t write for a week and now you’re a luke warm writer („• - •„)
is the blue lock fandom alive bc a vision just came to me where it’s a sae itoshi x reader and you just graduated highschool and you go to spain for the summer and he’s your summer love…👀👀👀
cw ⌇ ex boyfriend sae ◞ bathroom sex
The last person you wanted to see when you slipped into that half-lit bar was him. Sae Itoshi, leaning back against the counter like he owned the whole place, hair shorter than you remembered, eyes still carrying that bored, cutthroat gleam. The years hadn’t softened him at all. Not his arrogance, not that sharp tongue.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered before you could stop yourself.
His gaze flicked up and a smirk curved his lips. “Well. If it isn’t my favorite headache.”
You rolled your eyes, already heading toward the door, but his voice followed you. “Still running away when you can’t handle me?”
You stopped. Turned. “Handle you?” you scoffed, fists clenched at your sides. “You’re an arrogant, insufferable bastard.”
“And yet,” he murmured, pushing off the counter, closing the distance between you in measured steps, “You keep coming back.”
You should’ve left. Should’ve brushed past him and let him drown in his own ego. But something in the way his eyes pinned you in place held you still, like he knew every little nerve to set on fire. And maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that you’d hated him for so long it twisted into something else entirely, but one second you were glaring and the next your back hit the bathroom door with his mouth crushing against yours. It was a war disguised as a kiss, teeth clashing, lips bruising, his hand already dragging your thigh up against his hip.
“Fucking knew it,” he growled against your mouth, pulling it open with his tongue, tasting every inch. “Always so loud, so self-righteous. But look at you now.”
“Shut up,” you snapped, but your voice broke into a gasp when his hand slipped under your shirt, palm flat against your stomach, pressing you harder into the door.
“Make me.”
The words came with a thrust of his hips, already hard against you and you hated the way your body betrayed you. How you arched your back, how you let out that needy little sound in your throat.
He smirked, catching it, exploiting it. “That’s what I thought.”
The bathroom was locked a second later, and he had you bent over the sink, the mirror reflecting your flushed, furious face as he yanked your jeans down.
“You don’t deserve—” you tried, but your voice faltered as his fingers slid through your wet pussy.
“Don’t deserve this?” he interrupted with venom, pushing two fingers inside without warning. “Tell me to stop, then. Tell me you don’t want me.”
The worst part was you couldn’t. Your body clenched around his fingers, thighs shaking, the heat in your stomach boiling over until words died on your tongue. He leaned down, mouth by your ear, thrusting his fingers harder, deeper. “Exactly. You hate me, but you’d let me ruin you any night I want.”
The sound you made only proved him right. By the time he slid into you, rough and unyielding, you were already trembling, nails digging into the porcelain. He didn’t give you time to adjust as he set a sharp, brutal rhythm that had your breath shattering into ragged moans.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, head dropping against your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin. “Been waiting for this, haven’t you? All those years and you’re still mine the second I touch you.”
“I’m not—” the denial cracked into a cry when he drove in harder, hips slamming into yours.
He laughed, almost cruel, one hand tangling in your hair, yanking your head back so you had no choice but to look at yourself in the mirror. “Look. Even you can’t lie to yourself right now.”
Your reflection showed everything: the tears gathering in your eyes, the flush across your cheeks, the way your lips parted around every choked sound.
“Pathetic,” he whispered, biting the curve of your jaw. “And perfect.”
Every thrust was sharper, angrier, fueled by years of tension you both pretended was hate. The bathroom filled with the wet slap of skin, the sharp edge of your cries, his ragged groans muffled against your neck. One more thrust and your body convulsed, your legs nearly gave out as his name spilled from your lips like a curse. You hated how good it felt, how much of a traitor your body and little cunt was.
He followed seconds later, grinding deep, spilling into you with a guttural sound that made your stomach flip.
For a moment, the only sound was your shared breathing, uneven and heavy. Then he straightened, tugging your hair just enough to make you meet his eyes in the mirror again. “Say it,” he murmured, still buried inside you. “Say you hate me.” your lips trembled, no words coming and his smirk widened. “That’s what I thought.”