Your eyes snapped open instantly. Without thinking, you reached behind you, your hand gliding over the mattress in search of something familiar.
Warm, toned skin.
Sae.
Not what you were looking for.
Your hand continued to wander over the blankets, your brows slowly knitting together as your search grew more frantic.
“…What’s wrong?” Sae asked, his voice low and rough with sleep.
He turned onto his side, lazily wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you against his chest. His warm breath brushed the back of your neck as he buried his face into your hair.
“Go back to sleep,” he mumbled, already closing his eyes again.
“I can’t.”
You slipped out of his hold and sat up, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. They swept across the bed.
Nothing.
You climbed out of bed, crossed the room, and flicked on the light.
Sae let out an annoyed groan, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Where is he?“
You planted your hands on your hips.
“…Who?”
He didn’t even bother looking at you.
“You know exactly who I mean.”
Sae sighed dramatically before finally cracking one eye open.
“The shrimp?”
“Yes. Sheldon.”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Sheldon? Your stuffed shrimp actually has a name?”
“Of course he does. His name is Sheldon Shrimp.”
You said it with complete seriousness, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Hm.”
Sae closed his eye again.
“Maybe Sheldon Shrimp decided he’d rather spend one night away from you. Lucky for you, you’ve still got Sae Itoshi.”
“I don’t want to spend the night without Sheldon.”
“Life’s unfair.”
His answer was so flat that it only made you glare harder.
“Where did you hide him?”
There was genuine concern in your voice now.
You couldn’t shake the horrible thought that Sae had done something to your favorite plush.
“I never said I hid him.”
He sounded far too innocent.
“And why would I?”
“Saaae.”
You dragged out his name with a frustrated whine.
“We can’t sleep like this.”
“I could.”
He propped himself up on one elbow, looking at you with that usual calm, unreadable expression.
“I’d actually sleep better if my adorable girlfriend hugged me instead of a stuffed shrimp.”
You blinked.
“We can cuddle all together… if you’re nice to Sheldon.”
Sae stared at you for a long moment.
“…I’ll pass.”
“So?”
You crossed your arms.
“Where is he?”
He let out another quiet sigh.
“In the closet.”
Without another word, you hurried over and opened it.
Sure enough, Sheldon Shrimp was sitting neatly on one of the shelves.
You smiled triumphantly, hugged your beloved shrimp tightly against your chest, switched the light back off, and climbed into bed again.
Satisfied, you tucked Sheldon safely between you and the blanket before instinctively reaching for Sae’s arm, wrapping yourself around it as well.
For a brief moment, neither of you spoke.
Then you felt it.
The slightest twitch at the corner of Sae’s mouth.
A smile.
Tiny enough that he’d deny it if you ever mentioned it.
You smiled to yourself, cuddling both Sheldon and Sae a little closer.
꒰ 糸師冴 ꒱ › sae accidentally hard launches you mdni.
pro player! sae itoshi x f! reader. inspired by mbappe so ooc lol.
sae itoshi despises social media with every fiber of his being. it’s too lukewarm for him. all his accounts are managed by some pr team that solely posts professionally shot photos of him and he only opens instagram for the following reasons:
to repost reels of his match highlights that re al’s social media team tags him in,
to reluctantly comment on shidou’s posts after receiving an absurd amount of threatening texts from him,
and to like your posts and stories within seconds of you uploading them.
the latter being the main reason he bothers to check the app.
you’ve been together since you were both awkward teenagers but sae is still adamant about keeping your relationship private. not because he’s ashamed — far from it — but because his fanbase is, for lack of a better word, unhinged.
they know he’s been in a relationship for years; he’s never denied it in interviews. what they don’t know is who he’s dating. and with how private the midfielder is, most fans had long since accepted that they’d never find out. but as fate would have it, they get their answer a few hours after re al wins the uefa champions league.
sae’s just gotten out of the shower, a towel slung low on his hips as he rummages through his bag for a fresh set of clothes.
“took you long enough” you sigh, you’ve been waiting for him on the king-sized bed — wearing nothing but his spare re al kit — for what feels like forever.
sae glances up, his usual detached expression softening for just a fraction of a second as his teal eyes sweep over you. he pads toward the bed, the carpet muffling his steps until he’s right in front of you, leaning over. his fingers brush against your collarbone as he traces the collar of the jersey.
“you’re wearing my kit again ?” he shakes his head fondly before saying, “it’s not even your size” he emphasizes his point by tugging gently at the sleeve hanging well past your elbow.
“it still looks better on me.” you grin as you look up at him.
“i think it looks better off you.” his gaze drops from your eyes to your lips and then he’s kissing you. veiny hand moving from the jersey to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as he pours everything he felt during the match into your parted lips.
he barely pulls away, just enough to grab his phone from the nightstand without breaking the kiss completely. the screen illuminates his sharp features, casting a pale blue glow on his cheekbones as he opens the camera. he needs to commit this to memory, to capture this exact moment before he’s too lost in you to think straight.
there are few things sae itoshi loves more than taking pictures of you. he has thousands of them on his phone; candid shots of you sleeping, photos of you in his clothes, in your own, in nothing at all. on rare occasions he’ll post a picture or two on his close friends story. his way of showing you off without exposing you to his fans.
he doesn’t need to ask you to pose. you’re already turning onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows, and looking back at him over your shoulder. you reach back with one hand and point directly at the number ten between your shoulder blades. the soft click echoes in the hotel room as he captures the image. it’s perfect. you’re perfect. he’d be an idiot not to post it.
he’s quick, thumbs flying across the screen as he types out the caption, ‘the re al trophy’. he hits what he thinks is the right button to share this moment with his small, curated list: rin, his teammates, and shidou — who will undoubtedly send a tirade of messages saying he should be the one celebrating with sae instead of you. he tosses the phone onto the bed beside you, his attention immediately returning to more pressing matters. i.e. taking his jersey off you
he’s leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder when his phone vibrates. once. twice. then far too incessant for a close friends story. he breaks away with a frustrated groan, snatching his phone up. to his surprise and dismay, it’s not just shidou being shidou for once. but a tsunami of notifications from his official account.
his eyes widen as he opens instagram and sees it: the picture of you, in his kit, pointing at his number. posted to his public story, not close friends. thirty seconds ago. he scrambles to delete it even though he knows it’s already too late.
“shit” his thumb hovers uselessly over the screen as the notifications continue to pour in, each one a fresh wave of public exposure. the internet moves fast when it comes to sae itoshi.
you raise a brow, turning to look at him, “what’s wrong ?”
he doesn’t answer right away. his gaze is fixed on the ceiling, but you can tell he’s not actually looking at the ornate plaster. his jaw is tight, muscle ticking beneath his skin, and his eyes are clamped shut.
years of privacy, of sidestepping paparazzi and shutting down invasive questions, of keeping the person he loves safely beyond the reach of public scrutiny — all undone in less than thirty seconds.
he drops the phone onto the bed as if it’s burned him, running a hand through his damp maroon hair, “i posted it” he mutters dejectedly. and when you remain unfazed he adds, “publicly.”
you blink, processing his words. the indifferent look on your face, completely at odds with the panic etched onto his. “oh.” you say, your voice surprisingly calm. “well, that’s one way to do it.”
sae stares at you like you’ve just grown a second head. “that’s all you have to say ?” his voice is strained, “you’re not upset ?”
“why would i be ?” he lets out a sigh of relief, picking up his phone again. his pr manager’s name is flashing on the screen, but he ignores it. he clicks on the story a fan account’s tagged him in. they’ve already zoomed in on your face, trying to match you with old, blurry pictures from the stands. it won’t take them long to find your account. you reach out to still his frantic scrolling by placing a hand on his wrist. “are you upset, sae ?”
“obviously” he stops scrolling, his thumb frozen on the screen, but he can’t bring himself to look at you, “i’m very upset with myself.”
“why ?” you press gently, your thumb stroking the inside of his wrist.
“because i was careless” he admits, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “and i would’ve preferred to do this properly.”
you shift, moving to kneel in front of him, your hands resting on his tense shoulders. you start to knead the tight muscles, feeling him gradually relax under your touch. “define ‘properly’”
he doesn’t answer right away. he leans into your touch, his head bowing slightly as you work out a particularly stubborn knot between his shoulder blades. “i don’t know . . . i just wanted it to be on our terms. when we were ready. not because i fumbled with my phone like an idiot.”
sae itoshi, who can slot a penalty past the world’s best keeper without so much as trembling, is freaking out over an accidental hard launch. you can’t help but laugh. it makes his shoulders, which were slowly relaxing under your touch, stiffen all over again.
“don’t laugh at me. it’s not funny,” he mutters, though there’s no real heat behind his words. “not in the slightest.”
“you’re right, it’s not funny, it’s adorable” you lean in and press a kiss that makes his frustration fade away to his lips.
deep down, beneath his initial panic, sae’s glad. he’s glad because he knows that once the world gets over the excitement of finally knowing who you are, he can finally show you off the way he’s always wanted to. he can finally hold your hand walking down the street, kiss you in the stands after a goal, and take you to those fancy award dinners he’s always avoided. the thought of it all makes his heart race. some mistakes are worth making.
❥ itoshi rin is the biggest cock blocker when it comes to you and his brother.
୨୧ ONE !
you’re making out with sae next to the lockers room after a game, praising him and giggling.
“sae, the journalist are asking for you” rin appears next to both of you, staring at your joined bodies with a flat expression. “hi, rin” you smile sweetly, and he blushes faintly, greeting you back.
sae huffs, “don’t you know that this isn’t a good moment?”. rin simply shrugs and his teal eyes look at you. “go with him, baby. see you later at home” you smile, kissing his cheek before pulling away. he nods reluctantly and squeezes your hip gently.
“she’s nice. have no clue what she’s doing with you” he says amused as both of them walk. sae glares at him, “shut up”
୨୧ TWO !
you love showering with sae, moans filling the room as he fucks you against the wall. he growls, fingers digging further into your hips when your pussy clenches around him.
until the hot water turns cold and a loud, “sae, leave already! it’s my turn” comes from out of the bathroom. your boyfriend looks like he’s about to kill someone as he helps you drying your shaking body with a towel. you sneeze and he huffs, “sorry, beautiful. next time we visit japan, we’re staying at the hotel”
“but your mother seemed excited about us staying over” you say, dressing up. he arches an eyebrow, his silence making you chuckle. “okay, maybe you’re right” you cup his face, but when you’re about to kiss him… “sae!” rin knocks the door loudly, and he finally opens, glaring at his brother on the door. “finally— oh”
“hi, rinnie” you smile, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. he swallows and greets you back with a soft smile, immediately erasing when sae whispers something about cockblocking and killing someone.
୨୧ THREE !
you’re watching a movie with sae, cuddling on the couch as he kisses your jaw. one arm is thrown over your shoulders, keeping you close, and the other traces your inner thighs.
“baby, we’re at your parents’ couch” you whisper, smirk on your face. “so? don’t worry, just don’t be messy” he says huskily against your neck.
“hi, guys. what are you watching?” rin sits down next to you, and you feel sae’s anger radiating off his body. you smile with a soft blush on your cheeks, “just some thriller”
“great, those are my favourites” he says, making himself comfortable. sae glares at him, teal eyes mentally killing him. “leave” he grunts, and his younger brother arches an eyebrow. “this isn’t your couch, you should’ve booked an hotel room if you wanted to be an alone emo boy”
your hand on his chest is the only thing keeping him from strangling rin.
the only ball that matters ft. multiple blue lock men
・❥・sfw but a lil suggestive ;) no average person could win a 1v1 vs these football stars... luckily you're not average and got a few tricks up your sleeve
ft. sae, kaiser, bunny, shidou
sae itoshi
the first thing he does when you suggest a 1v1 is look at you like you've said something mildly offensive.
not mean. just. that specific sae look, the one where his teal eyes go flat and his mouth does almost nothing and somehow the combination communicates you can't be serious more efficiently than words ever could.
"you'll lose in thirty seconds," he says.
"so what," you say back. "i want to try."
he considers this. then he places the ball on the grass between you and takes two steps back and that's that, apparently. no warm-up. no instruction. just sae, looking bored, waiting.
you last longer than thirty seconds. you last maybe forty-five, which feels like an achievement until you realise he was genuinely going slow. the way he moves is so controlled, no wasted motion, the ball always exactly where he intends it. you lunge for it twice and he sidesteps both times with this infuriating economy of movement. not even looking at your feet, just looking at your eyes, reading you before you know you've decided anything.
you're starting to sweat. he's not.
and that's when you get the idea.
it's a terrible idea. you know it's a terrible idea. but he's standing close now, having let you herd him slightly toward the edge of the makeshift boundary, you're breathing hard and he's waiting for your next move with that same flat patience and something in you decides that if you can't beat him with your feet you'll try something else entirely.
you close the distance between you in one step.
he doesn't move back. sae would never back down (from you at least), he doesn't flinch, just watches you come with those calm calculating eyes. and you go up on your toes and kiss him. quick. one second, maybe less. just enough to be real.
his breath stills.
you break away, spin, and kick the ball.
it rolls about three metres before sae's foot stops it from behind without him even seeming to move properly. and when you turn around he's standing there with the ball under his boot and his expression has shifted into something you cannot read, something between annoyed and not-annoyed, and there's a faint colour at the top of his cheekbones that has absolutely nothing to do with exertion.
"that's a foul," he says.
"there's no referee."
silence. he looks at you. really looks, the kind of look that doesn't miss anything.
"again," he says quietly. and it is absolutely not clear whether he means the 1v1 or the kiss.
probably both.
michael kaiser
kaiser makes everything into a performance. even this.
he'd agreed to practice with you because you'd asked and because somewhere underneath all the theatre of him he's secretly twiling his little rat tail, he likes being the one someone turns to when they're trying to get better. he'd never say that. but he'd said yes, hadn't he.
he's been talking the entire time. not rudely, actually. he's surprisingly good at explaining things when he wants to be, precise in the way that people who've thought deeply about their craft can be and you've learned more in the last twenty minutes than in any amount of watching from the sidelines.
the problem is he's also been absolutely insufferable about how easily he takes the ball from you.
"see, that's the error," he says, for the fourth time, having just dispossessed you so smoothly it felt choreographed. "you commit before you're certain. i can read you before you move. you telegraph everything."
"right," you say, pushing your hair back. "yes. very helpful."
he grins. it's the kind of grin that knows it's beautiful and has long since stopped pretending otherwise. his light blue eyes catch the afternoon light and his blond hair with its blue-streaked ends shifts in the breeze and god, he is genuinely annoying.
"want to go again?" he asks. sweetly. infuriatingly.
"i want to win at least once before i die," you say, "and i'm starting to feel creative about my methods."
that gets an eyebrow raise. "oh?"
you reset. the ball between you. and this time when you move toward it you don't look at your feet or his feet or the ball. you look at him. his eyes. and you step in close, faster than he expects, and you press your mouth against his.
it's the slightest thing. barely a breath of contact.
but kaiser. kaiser makes a sound. low and startled and immediately suppressed. and in that half-second of him being genuinely, actually caught off-guard you duck sideways and get your foot to the ball and push it forward.
you make it four steps.
then his arm hooks around your waist from behind and he pulls you back against him and you feel him laughing, actually laughing, his chest moving against your back, his chin near your temple.
"you," he says, voice warm and amused and something else underneath, "are cheating."
"i learned from watching you," you tell him.
his arm doesn't move. the ball sits four steps away, unclaimed by either of you.
"clever," he murmurs, still close and the word has nothing to do with football anymore.
bunny iglesias
bunny doesn't take football seriously enough to make you feel bad about losing. that is, strangely, the most disarming thing about him.
he'd found a patch of grass near the hotel, nowhere special and he'd just started doing things with the ball and then looked at you with those big red eyes and tilted his head slightly as if to say well? and somehow you were just. playing. no formal start. no scorekeeping.
he moves like water, which sounds like a cliché but watching him you can't think of anything else, it's the only honest description. no angles, no hard stops. just continuous motion, the ball following him like it's attached by invisible string. when he jumps, even casually, even just stepping over the ball as it rolls, there's a half-second where gravity seems to forget about him.
you've been chasing that ball for twenty minutes.
"you're fast," he offers, conversationally. he's not being patronising. it sounds like he means it, which is somehow worse.
"you're faster," you pant.
he hums. glances at you with that soft, slightly elsewhere expression he always has. "you're trying to think your way through it," he says. "football isn't really a thinking sport. it's a feeling sport."
"is there a difference?"
"yes," he says simply.
and then he passes you the ball. gently. you stop it, look up at him. he's just standing there in the afternoon light with his lavender hair and his scarred face and that gentle perpetual half-smile, hands in his pockets, not in a defensive stance at all.
"go on," he says.
you approach. careful. he watches with those red eyes, not moving, and something about being watched that calmly makes you nervous in a way that fast opponents don't. you fake left. he doesn't bite. you step over the ball, try to cut inside. he shifts one foot, just one, positioning himself without urgency.
and then you stop. and you lean in. and you press a soft, quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.
he goes very still.
you move for the ball.
and he lets you have it. just. lets you take it and run, and you make it all the way to the makeshift goal before you look back and he's still standing where you left him, not turned around, touching the corner of his mouth with two fingers. when he does look up his expression is complicated in a way that you can't name. something between surprised and something older and quieter.
"that was kind," he says finally. like kind is a word he doesn't encounter very often and isn't entirely sure what to do with.
"did it work?" you ask.
"…yes," he admits. and he looks at you for a moment longer, and something about the quality of his attention has shifted, like he's seeing you properly now, which maybe he wasn't before. "it worked."
ryusei shidou
the thing about shidou is that he is already a problem before you even touch the ball.
he hadn't so much agreed to a 1v1 as simply started one, appearing beside you on the pitch and flicking the ball from your feet before you'd finished the sentence, already grinning that sharp-toothed grin of his, those cat-slit pink eyes bright with amusement.
"try and take it back," he says.
"that's not how you ask someone to practice," you tell him.
"don't care," he says cheerfully.
and that's shidou for you. entirely self-contained. no preamble. no rules. he moves with this aggressive erratic energy that's somehow also efficient, his body occupying space in ways that shouldn't work, dribbling sideways and backward and diagonal. you lunge for the ball twice and his hip checks you aside both times without him even looking at you, like you're furniture he's navigating around.
"you're not even trying," he says. not unkindly. just factually, a bit bored, which is somehow the worse insult.
"i'm absolutely trying," you say.
"try harder then." he juggles the ball once, catches it on his knee, grins at you. "i'll even let you get close."
let you. you want to kick him.
and then a genuis idea strikes.
you approach again. he bounces slightly on his heels, ball at his feet, watching you with those luminous pink eyes all lit up and ready. you get close. properly close. close enough that he tilts his head slightly, reading you, something flickering in his expression that might be interest.
and you take his face in your hands and you kiss him. not quick and tactical. actually kiss him. one full, deliberate second of mouth-to-mouth contact.
he makes an absolutely unhinged noise.
it's not a bad noise. it's the noise of someone who has been genuinely, comprehensively short-circuited. you feel his hands come up automatically, grip your arms, not pushing you away, just. gripping. and you spin out of it, break contact and kick the ball as hard as you can toward the opposite end.
when you turn back he's standing there and his face is. not composed. his chest is rising a bit faster and his cat eyes are dark and his grin has gone sideways into something less playful and more focused, like a switch has been thrown somewhere.
"that was dirty," he says. and his voice has dropped a register.
"you told me to try harder."
his tongue touches his lower lip. briefly. "do it again and i'm not letting you take the ball."
a beat. he tilts his head.
"i'm not letting you take the ball anyway," he adds. "but there are other things i'd let you take."
and you point at him and say "football," very firmly, because you know exactly where this is going and he laughs, loudly, and the ball sits forgotten between you and neither of you go for it immediately, and his eyes on you are still that switched-on shade of too-bright and too-warm.
he'll let the game go, just for a moment.
just for this.
an: not even gonna lie fluff is really fun to write i might be cooked. anyways thank for the req <3
sae fucking his pretty girl until she cant stop squirting!
tw: cnc
(⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝)
youre folded in half like a lawn chair. your ankles are to your ears while sae roughly pounds into you. youre wide open, vulnerable, and stretched out for him. his hands are on your calves, pushing them up towards your head. you cant remember how many times you've came. even when you say its too much, he wont stop! it makes it even worse that you cant stop gushing all over him, coating his thighs and abdomen with your juices.
"ah! f-fuck! s'too muchh saeee!!" you squeal, your whole body trembling under him. he stops holding your legs down with his hands, his body caging you in. he grabs your chin firmly, forcing you to look at him, still brutally pounding into you.
"you can take it." he says sternly, not letting up with his rapid thrusts. you feel your cunt spasming around him for the umpteenth time. you can hear your cunt squelching, making filthy noises with each brutal thrust of his hips.
"hear that? she doesnt want me to stop. your mouth says one thing but your pretty cunt says another." he grabs a fistful of hair and yanks your head back, giving him more access to your mouth. his lips land on yours and he swallows your moans with a hungry kiss. you try to push him away— placing your hands over his chest, but he just wont stop! sae can tell youre about to cum with the way your back arches against the mattress, your nails digging crescent moons into his back, and your whole body squirming underneath him.
"s'too muchhh! c-cant anymoree! get— ah! off!" you manage to scream out in between moans. his hands go to the back of your thighs, still stretched out for him, and tightly grip onto the soft flesh there, using that as a leverage to drive even faster into you now.
"no. youre gonna cum for me, i dont care if its too much." he says firmly, and thats all it takes for you to gush all over him. your legs shake and your toes are curling. you shake your head side to side, trying to get him to stop, but he keeps going. you scratch at his back, leaving red marks in their wake that will for sure scar later. you coat his abs and thighs in your juices again for the millionth time this night. his pace doesnt falter, and he brutally fucks you through your orgasm. you cant do anything but lay limp and let him use you until hes satisfied with how many times youve came. ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
Being in a distance relationship is one of the most exhausting things ever
It turns every missed call into a heavy silence and every delayed reply into a reason to be annoyed
The two of you had been fighting for weeks, until the last argument that spiraled into something ugly and unbearable, leaving you both with sharp, stinging words that lingered even after the screen went black
It had been a few weeks since you last spoke. Even when his name lit up your screen two days ago, you just turned your phone down on the nightstand, staring at the ceiling, unable to stomach another fight
You were too tired to keep trying
It was past midnight and all you wanted was to sleep
As your eyes finally began to give in, a violent thudding shook your front door
Your heart hammered against your ribs, the sound echoing in the hollow silence of your apartment
It wasn’t a polite knock of a neighbor, it was a heavy, persistent and entirely too aggressive for this hour
Adrenaline spiked and your first instinct was to grab the nearest weapon you could find, a plastic kitchen broom you found in the hallway
You hovered by the door, your knuckles white as you gripped the handle
Even though you were scared to death, you had to face whatever nightmare was on the other side
“Who’s there?” you shouted, your voice trembling as you gripped the handle tighter “I’m calling the police!”
A beat of silence followed, then a raspy, slurred familiar voice drifted through the door
“Knock knock”
You blinked, the tension in your arms leaving slowly as it had arrived “Sae, is that you?”
“Knock knock” he repeated, ignoring your question with a stubborn, drunken persistence
“Sae? You’re supposed to be in Spain. Are you ..are you drunk?"
“You’re supposed to say who’s there” he slurred, his voice heavy with annoyance
You let out a frustrated breath, leaning your forehead against the door “..Who’s there?”
“Your boyfriend” you could practically hear his drunken, lopsided smile through the door “Now let me in”
You threw the lock and swung the door open but the words you’d prepared died in your throat
He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, looking like a disaster
His bangs were falling straight over his eyes which were bloodshot from a mixture of exhaustion and what looked like suspiciously unshed tears, smelling strongly of expensive alcohol
He stumbled inward, nearly colliding with your shoulder as you caught him, his presence overwhelming the space
“You idiot” you whispered, your heart aching “Why are you even here?"
Sae didn’t answer, he just looked at you, his gaze falling over each of your features, memorizing your face
He wandered towards the sofa, pulling you with him as he collapsed onto the cushions
He didn’t let go of your hand, his glossy eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch
“Why didn’t you answer me?” he murmured, the silence stretching between you
“I’m sorry” he paused, his expression crumbling “The fight.. it was .. I don’t know. I hated not hearing from you. Don’t do that again”
Your heart ached at the words “I’m sorry too” you murmured, reaching to brush his bangs from his eyes ”I shouldn’t have ignored you, I was hurt..but I missed you"
He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes “Just stay” he whispered, his voice rough “The world’s already exhausting, I don’t need us making it worse”
He looked at you as if you were the only solid thing in his life, his thumb reaching out to trace your lower lip
''Can I..” he hesitated, a ghost of his usual arrogance flickering for a second before being swallowed by longing ”May I kiss you? Please“
You just nodded and before you could even respond he dropped to his knees on the rug. His hands sliding to your waist to anchor himself to you, pressing his face into your chest for a brief second, clearly revealed that you hadn’t turned him away
Then he looked up again, his expression softening into something devastatingly sincere
He leaned forward, capturing your lips with a desperation that tasted like apology and need for all the time spent apart. It was deep, lingering and unhurried
He finally pulled away, his forehead pressed into yours, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, afraid you might disappear
“I’m done with the distance” he whispered, his lips trailing towards your jaw
You were done too, unable to stay away from him any longer. You were happy he felt the same
He wasn’t the type to be soft always but he was certainly the type to fly across an ocean just to prove he was still yours
dating sae itoshi during your baby fever phase was simultaneously the best and worst thing that had ever happened to him.
because at first, he thought it was cute, really cute.
the first time it happened was when the two of you were grocery shopping together. you had stopped mid-walk beside a woman holding a baby, your entire expression softening instantly.
“sae,” you whispered dramatically, grabbing his sleeve. “look at its cheeks.”
sae glanced over once. “…it’s a baby.”
“exactly.”
he blinked slowly while you continued staring at the child like your life depended on it.
that should’ve been his warning sign. because after that, it escalated fast.
suddenly every baby you saw became a conversation, every tiny pair of shoes in store windows made you emotional. and somehow — every discussion ended with you talking about your future children.
his future children.
“our daughter would be adorable,” you sighed one evening while laying across sae’s chest.
sae looked down from his book calmly. “daughter?”
“mhm.”
“what happened to the son you wanted yesterday?”
you frowned thoughtfully. “we can have both.”
he stared at you for a long moment. “…you planned this out already?”
“obviously.”
the scary part? you absolutely had.
for an entire month, sae listened to increasingly concerning statements leave your mouth casually.
“our kids would have your eyelashes.”
“i think our son would be attached to you more.”
“do you think our daughter would get your hair color?”
“sae, imagine tiny little jerseys.”
at first he responded normally, then eventually he just started sighing deeply every time you opened your mouth.
“you’re thinking about babies again,” he muttered one night from the kitchen.
you gasped dramatically. “how did you know?”
“because you just showed me six baby videos in a row.”
“…they were cute videos.”
“one of them was literally just a baby sneezing.”
“and it was adorable.”
sae rubbed tiredly at his face while you smiled proudly from the couch.
affectionately annoyed. that was the only way to describe him lately. because despite all the complaining, he listened every single time, even when he pretended not to.
which unfortunately encouraged you further.
“do you think our kids would like football?” you asked suddenly one afternoon.
sae barely looked up from his phone. “with our genetics? they won’t have a choice.”
you burst into laughter instantly.
god.
he hated how much he liked hearing you laugh about things like this.
the worst part came during practice.
because sae had made the mistake of leaving his phone unlocked beside one of his teammates while showering.
which meant his teammates unfortunately saw your messages.
one of his teammates stared at the screen blankly.
“…why is she sending you tiny baby clothes.”
sae froze.
across the room, one of his teammates leaned over curiously.
“wait,” he snorted. “is itoshi getting baby trapped?”
“shut up,” sae replied immediately.
another teammate grinned. “nah this is insane. ‘sae look how cute this stroller is.’”
sae walked over instantly, snatching his phone away with the coldest glare imaginable. except unfortunately, his ears were slightly pink. which made everything worse.
“oh my god,” somebody laughed. “he’s embarrassed.”
“i’m not embarrassed.”
“you literally are.”
sae looked deeply unimpressed.
then his eyes dropped back toward his phone, another text from you.
you: sae look at this baby halloween costume ☹️
attached was the tiniest lion outfit he’d ever seen. there was a long pause, then slowly — the corners of sae’s mouth lifted slightly. small, barely noticeable, but there.
his teammates stared in horror.
“…he’s smiling at the baby costume,” somebody whispered.
sae immediately locked his phone.
“…none of you saw anything.”
but later that night, when you curled up beside him in bed and started rambling softly about how cute your future kids would be-
sae wrapped an arm around your waist quietly and pressed a kiss against your temple.
“…our daughter would definitely boss me around,” he murmured sleepily.
you froze, then slowly looked up at him with the brightest smile he’d ever seen. and instantly, he regretted feeding your baby fever even more.
a/n do yall know that one speed audio that goes ''aww so cute, so cute'' yeah that was playing in my head the entire time writing this. tysm for reading and other than that theres nothing more to add !!
regular in the sense that he didn’t do much or more like he didn’t have to do much to excel in what he wanted.
regular in the fact that he was just good at soccer, just perfect at reading the field and was amazing at honing his skills to improve even without trying.
he was born that way. others will just have to deal with it.
in his schedule nothing was because it was needed. he got up for practice because it was scheduled, he cleaned because he wanted to and he didn’t like dust, he did the bonding exercises to shut up his coach on the days he had enough patience to go through with it.
he played soccer because he was the best…and because he loved it, there’s no doubt about that.
but he was meticulous about one exact thing.
and that was his health.
he had meal plans, time took carefully to fry the onions in his dishes on each side to a perfect sear.
the dishes lined up perfectly as he drifted his spoon over to you for a unneeded taste test.
his greens tucked, potatoes mashed and beef…was very beefy.
and his body? a temple.
a talented cherished fucking temple. especially when it came to rest.
so on a normal day he would be lucky to get home at 3pm for his daily nap, for a quick snuggle before he got up to do more match review.
but in all honesty that’s when he got home, toeing his shoes off at the door, showering, eating, reading over the interviews, then keeping tabs on his rivals…it was HARD WORK!
hard enough that by 5:30 everyday but his rest days: monday and sunday, sae would stretch one long arm up from his position, turn to you, who usually was snuggled next to him dozing already or watching the next dumb reality tv show…
and telepathically he’d communicate that he was ready to nap.
or in actuality, he’d huff tossing the ipad somewhere on the table in front, his long arm wrapping around you, until you finally turned to his big sleepy green eyes.
because he would not could not sleep without you.
and it was nonnegotiable that this was nap time for you too.
you knew that when his body, curled up over you, one long arm slung around your waist pulling you into his body, his face tucked in the place where your shoulder and neck meet, his bangs tickling you as he took one long breath and finally relaxed.
it was soothing, his hair fluffy, product free from the shower and down, a nice relaxer when you would turn in his arms and watch his face sink deeper into rest.
usually you’d follow right behind or be knocked out already, but today it was movie night of love island! you didn’t want to miss that for his oddly timed nap…you let him have it for the first two hours but once 7:30 hit you knew you needed to catch up on the last episode and his bulky body was not going anywhere.
so you devised a plan, large bear stuffy tucked on the side of the couch just in your reach that he some how completely missed, ready to be your freedom for the next two episodes.
your hand grabbed at his fuzzy ear, the other slowly gripping sae’s arm and pulling it out from underneath you.
pausing when he huffed and shifted his arm going back in its original spot.
BUT NEVER FEAR!
you rolled carefully around in his grip, his arm loosely in the air just enough space to pass the teddy bear through…
“you tried it.”
his arm twisted out your grip and grabbed the poor teddy by his face chucking him across the room.
“now” he scrunched his brows at you under his sleep messed up bangs, “we nap.”
