Pinned
right side of my neck ──★ ˙🍓 ̟
itoshi sae was avoiding your house like the plague. ever since you started dated, he just couldn’t take himself to enter the door of your home— too embarrassed to face your family and their, probably, millions of questions. he would never tell anyone but sae was scared of your family.
it was… weird not having him in your room at all times. because he, usually, is. sae’s body, naturally, moved to your home after practice as if it was his own. he felt more welcome there, simply, because you were there.
but when he was forced in by your own mother, he couldn’t just say no. it would be rude to do so, especially because your families were so close. he could imagine the rant he would get from his own mother if he made an excuse.
so that’s how he ended up in your bed with his stomach full of food and butterflies, that he just couldn’t escape from whenever you were around. both of your bodies were facing the ceiling, laying on your bed as if you were in literal graves. it was unnatural and awkward and sae knows you’ll be laughing about this, together, in two weeks.
nonetheless, his heart skips a beat when you look over at him. even though he’s avoiding your gaze at all costs, the thought of you inspecting his face makes him crumble in a hundred pieces— he doesn’t show it, of course. sae keeps his nonchalant expression at all times, duh.
well, maybe he’ll let it slip. like right now, your hand moving to his hair as it’s becoming dishevelled through the countless hours of school and laughs with your family. he knew you loved when his bangs draped over his eyes— said it looked like rin’s, which, ultimately, pissed him off, but regardless, whenever you did compliment him, sae would, specifically, leave it like that the next day.
he hates loves how much he conforms for you.
“should i cut it?” the question escapes him faster than he can think— because, really, he should have his own opinion on when to cut his hair. but what if you like it this way? what if you like it longer? or shorter? oh my god, he’s hooked onto you.
you shake your head letting out a small ‘i like it this way’ before moving your gaze from his hair down to sae’s eyes, which he finally reciprocates. and you laugh, the most golden, melodic laugh he has ever heard.
and as you calm down from your sudden feeling of joy, that sae is, absolutely, encapsulated in, your head falls into the crook of his neck. and it feels natural and common and familiar.
“that was so stupid.” you mutter, inhaling sae’s scent, as if he just came back from the military after two years.
indeed, it was stupid. sae hums in agreement because, truly, you’ve been cuddling in bed since you were babies, so this is nothing.
other than the fact, that sae holds it closer to his heart.
Reblogged dollyfetti
my thing i haven’t made is so good 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
ghetto gatsby ──★ ˙🍓 ̟
you and itoshi sae were on opposite sides of the car— unaturally.
why is that? he pissed you— the fuck off— that’s why.
there were some things as his manager and soon-to-be-wife that you understood— but, jesus christ, did he have to fuck up with his biggest sponsor?
itoshi sae was a mean, mean man and he, surely, didn’t make things easier for you.
“hey, babeee,” the usual beginning of an apology from sae, acting all innocent as if he didn’t just create a shitload of paperwork and calls for you. “don’t be angry at me.”
no answer— rightfully so. your gaze followed the trees outside, ignoring every word and sound made from your fiancée. because, sure, he’s done things like this before, but not at the sponsor’s own event. and, definitely, not directly to his face.
it was as if he was asking for an argument with you.
“i, really, didn’t do anything wrong,” ahh, so now he’s in the right?
you could choke sae right now. and, of course, he has to act all unbothered, a perfect way to react to your silence. that will, clearly, help his case.
“you, literally, called him a dick.”
“only because he was rude to me. and you.”
“itoshi,” at that, his gaze led to you, the name uncommon to him, especially from you. “you lost our biggest, fucking, sponsor.”
“who needs a sponsor, anyway? i can handle myself.” sae mutters, his careless personality overpowering any sense of urgency.
“your whole marketing team is, practically, gone, your retirement is fucked and a lot of your salary is due to them,” you answer, looking over at sae, eyes hooded from pure anger “so tell me, how much of that can you handle?”
he lets the silence sit in the car— because he has no idea. he has no idea about any of it.
“you’re going to apologise to him.” the earnestness in your voice, worries sae— but he doesn’t show it. rather, he lets his usual self answer.
“i’m not apologising. i did nothing wrong.” sae’s stubborn character was something you got warned about before becoming his manager. luckily, you weren’t one to lose in arguments.
“itoshi sae. you will apologise and i don’t want you fucking up like this, ever, again.”
you’re met with silence yet again, eyeing sae’s facial expression— inspecting the tug of his brow and roll of his eyes. he’s avoiding your gaze— a sign of his loss.
“will you kiss me, if i say yes?”
“what—“ you look at sae, with a ‘are you fucking kidding me’ look, which is only met with a silent plead from his eyes “okay, yes! i’ll give you a, fucking, kiss,”
sae nods and mutters a ‘i’ll do it’ before sitting, waiting, expectantly, for the kiss he was promised.
“you’re so stupid.”
are the last words that leave your mouth before you lean over the backseat and give sae an open-mouthed kiss. exactly, the one he likes. you, really, were too kind to him. whatever. you couldn’t care less when his tongue, gently, prods into your mouth— sharing your saliva.
you, definitely, didn’t care when his hand moved to grasp onto your hip, the other angling your head. sae knew how to lower your defenses, and you let him. every single time.
the argument will have to wait, because right now, sae’s wayyy too distracted by you and your body and your lips— which won’t change later but, oh well.
he’ll apologise, but, he can’t promise this won’t happen again.
after all, itoshi sae got a fuck ton of hate sex after.
sweet nothing ──★ ˙🍓 ̟
everyone always expected the most from itoshi sae— rightfully so.
since he was a young child, everyone assumed greatness from him. he was supposed to be the next soccer mastermind. one of his kind. the best midfielder the world has ever seen.
and it was, practically, outlandish how little you expected from him. there was no need for fake smiles or overly kind gestures.
you evoked a sense of domestic intimacy where he doesn’t need to prove anything to you. because he knows, or hopes, that just him is enough for you.
so, that’s why he wakes up with no worries— making his way behind you. his lack of shirt doesn’t help your concentration of the breakfast you’re supposed to be making— especially when his arms find their way around your waist.
“g’morning, beautiful,” it was, almost, a ritual how sae mutters the same exact words into the crook of your neck, every single morning. it comes to him, naturally— saying such affectionate things that he would never have said in the past.
but, in the past, he didn’t have you.
“good morning, sae,” you chirp back, angling your head to kiss his hair “do you want coffee?”
he simply nods, not leaving your embrace, leaning back to leave a trail of, soft, kisses onto your neck.
“do you need help with anything?” sae asks, knowing the answer.
“just stay here, is that okay?”
and, of course, that was okay to sae. he couldn’t imagine anything better than living in a world where he can, constantly, pamper you with sweet nothings.
bed chem ──★ ˙🍓 ̟
nagi seishiro was definitely not one to make an effort into being a romantic. it was just too much effort to look into someones eyes and seem interested and talk all flirty and stupid.
with you, though, the romance was, almost, inevitable. it was natural and easy.
especially in the mornings, your limbs tangled together and breaths connected by a common pace.
you woke up first— as usual— but you also stayed next to seishiro’s sleeping position. inspecting every small frown and misplacement of hair that graced his face every morning.
when seishiro does awake, it’s excruciatingly slowly as if he has all the time in the world— which, he does but nonetheless— lashes fluttering and breath slowing.
he alerts you of his awakening by a small grasp of your hip, finding his place under your— his— shirt.
before his eyes even open, his face leans into yours. his first sense was to kiss you, who cares about sight when you’re lips are on his?
you stop him abruptly, one hand over his mouth and one over yours.
seishiro’s eyes flutter awake, immediately— offended by the idea of you not wanting to kiss him. the emotion of being offended was foreign to him, too much effort, he says— but what the hell?
“sorry, sei— morning breath.” a simple mutter escapes you, explaining your actions.
at this, seishiro pouts. who cares about morning breath? he wants to kiss you. you were just getting him bothered over nothing.
attempting harder, he leans into yet again— but to no avail. seishiro could, theoretically, beat you in this match, but he was never one to be troubled over things— especially in the morning.
“i’ll give you a kiss after we both brush our teeth, ‘kay?”
with that, seishiro, finally surrendered. well— partly. you’ll go brush your teeth and he’ll stay in bed, waiting for your kiss.
you don’t, truly, expect him to get up without his morning kiss?
note : saw sabrina not too long ago and can’t get the concert out of my head soooo…. nagi incoming (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ
a dream with a soccer player ──★ ˙🍓 ̟
synopsis : sae is intrigued by your freak.
itoshi sae— who, imagined things like this as his personal nightmare— attended the event his managerbegged him to.
a charity event where the rich ask for money from the poor— a joke, really.
and through his half-assed smiles and sloppy smiles, the drainage of social battery caught up to him quicker than expected.
the soccer prodigy ends up leaning against the wall, far from the crowd of people, trying to find a moment of silence. his eyes flutter shut and body relaxes.
“we’re so twins.”
sae, failing to find the moment of silence, gazes at you from the corner of his eye. you looked just as tired as him— no attempt at a smile or formal greeting.
“i’m sorry..?” what did you mean ‘we’re twins?’ is this another meme he doesn’t know of— oh my god, he’s going to lose it.
“sorry— sorry. not— hic— actual twins.” you try to answer through hiccups “like— ‘cus we’re both like— hic— not really into this—.” with a shake of your head, you state the obvious.
“look, i’m drunk.” the words, though meant to be as an apology, simply sound irritated at your own actions.
“i’d be worried if you acted like this when sober.” sae responds, intrigued by you.
there was something so interesting about people that sae couldn’t quite understand.
most people were predictable— overly so.
there was no harm in investigating when it already seemed like you spoke a different language (metaphorically).
he wondered what bought you here. this event, no offense, didn’t look like your sort of scenery. maybe you had a date? although you didn’t look entertained. or delighted. or anything positive, for that matter.
“hey, you’re—hic— itoshi sae, aren’t you?” your words spill out, leaning in closer to inspect the midfielder’s face— making sure you weren’t making a fool out of yourself.
a begdrudging nod corrects your theory.
you nod back— three times just to be precise.
“i’m pretty sure my date has a— hic— boner for you.” this captivates sae, yet again. your way of speaking is odd. to the point it frightens and amuses him.
“why do you think so?”
“—hic — you’re all he talked about on the way here. like, like— ‘i’m not gonna let him take my spotlight’ or like, ‘he’s gonna be so jealous of me when you’re on my arm’” you turned around at that, fully facing him.
“now, that confused me. do i know you?” you ask— almost in a dreamlike state.
sae shakes his head, absorbed in every intoxicating word that escapes you.
“yeah, exactly. why would you care that i’m there— what the fuck,” you look up at the ceiling as if actually searching for an answer which sae couldn’t help but smile at. before going back to his stoic expression, of course.
he would never admit it but, in that moment, sae was definitely jealous of your mysterious date.
“so, itoshi sae,” you drawl his name in a whisper— a secret between the two of you “go shoot your shot ‘cus i knowwwww someone who wants you. real. real bad.”
and, just like that, itoshi sae shoots his shot with someone who compelled him more than anyone could.
he took you home. to his home, because he couldn’t understnad your drawl of words that were meant to be your address. let you rest in his bed. made you soup to help with the hangover. and, even, gave you his moisturiser to use, in the morning.
in summary, sae was smitten for you and your endless, questionable sentences.
steeeam ──★ ˙🍓 ̟
missing itoshi sae’s kisses was one of the most agonising thing you’ve experienced.
because, god, was he an amazing kisser. he was gentle and unpredictable— catching you when your defenses were at their weakest. his lips moving against yours like the last piece of a puzzle, slotting so perfectly.
and when times like these arised— when you sent a quick ‘hi, missing your lips’ to sae— you couldn’t help but reminisce on your first kiss with him.
which was a very awkward and abrupt one.
sae was dropping you off at your house, after school, just like he did every single day.
and there was nothing different or odd about him that whole day. he was nonchalant and unresponsive, with simple hums escaping him every once and again— notifying you that he was, indeed, listening to your countless rants.
when it was time for him to take his leave and go back the way you were just walking— he stood, silent. looking at you as if expecting you to say something— anything to get his mind off the thing that he’s been wanting for the last couple weeks.
he made up his mind when you, simply, gaped at him— waiting for a goodbye of some sort.
suddenly, his hand was on the side of your neck, angling your face up (to reach his growing height) as his lips slid against yours.
although sae wished it was— the kiss was far from perfect.
you took a moment to relax and adjust to this new found contact. after all the closest your lips have been to eachother was when you, randomly, decide to bite sae’s appealing bicep.
since none of you had any experience, you both went off of instinct— holding your breath as if scared to deepen the kiss or do something you shouldn’t.
at some point, you couldn’t hold it any longer—turning around to gasp and catch the air, that seemed to be everywhere but your lungs.
without a second word, sae turned around and left— and for once you were thankful he did. you would probably die from embarassment if you looked at him a second longer.
surprisingly, minutes later, you seemed to miss the feeling of him— tracing the place where his lips were, not so long ago.
which lead to a spontaneous text message from you.
to : saesaesaesaesae
hi
that was cute
okay sorry
i know you’re at practice i just wanted to say that i liked it.
contrary to your beliefs, sae was not at practice. he was looking at your messages pop up on his screen— too flustered to respond.
six thirty ──★ ˙🍓 ̟
choso’s favourite moments with you were always at night. and, no, it wasn’t when he was buried deep inside you (although that was a close second) but, rather, when you played mario kart for absolute hours.
and, even though, he was playing as princess peach right now, it was, definitely, not his favourite moment.
a smile creeped onto your face as your side of the screen wrote a clear ‘VICTORY!’, which choso only replied with a pout.
“i won—“
“i can see that.” choso interrupted, attempting to irritate you.
which, obviously, didn’t work because how could you be angry when your beautiful, heartbroken choso looked so edible.
his scowl only deepened when you answered with a giggle, moving towards him, hesitantly— as if he was an unknown stray that would runaway any second.
“cho, are you angry?” a teasing question— it was clear he was, to some point, bothered by your countless wins.
a shake of the head responded to your question, his fingers tracing patterns over the console he was holding. seemingly acting nonchalant, which was quite the opposite of choso.
your hand cupped his chin, turning his head to look at you, which made choso, involuntarily, turn a shade of red.
before he could argue, you peppered his, already, flushed face with kisses. they, absolutely, overstimulated choso— in an exhilarating way.
you even went to the point of biting choso’s cheek, with love, of course.
at that point, he couldn’t stop himself from breaking the facade— a grin painting his face as he swatted you away.
and, yet again, choso fell into your trap with a beaming smile, as he lost another round.
cedar ──★ ˙🍓 ̟
you and itoshi sae had an odd association; it was nice to have him around— until he left with no further word.
it wasn’t his fault, well, partly. he had responsibilities as a soccer prodigy and matches he had to attend to, of course. you understood that— what you didn’t understand was his complete silence when he did leave.
but you couldn’t be angry— not really. sae wasn’t yours and you weren’t his.
the untold premise of your relationship (if you could even call it that) was, solely, eachother’s presence.
sae didn’t have many friends— although being one of the most popular public figures— he didn’t get along well with others. you were an exception, it seemed. maybe it was because you’ve known eachother for years (seven to be exact), or because you were the only one who wouldn’t mind sitting with sae in silence. for hours.
so, naturally, everytime he was back in japan, he drifted to your place— as if it was his very own home. he had the keys to your place, and no one else stopped him from staying with you, those couple of days he was back.
in his words, it was always nicer to be around you, in particular, than alone. you tried not to take it to heart— you failed.
once, on a very late night, you layed in bed with sae, and, boldly, asked him why you weren’t dating. it confused you— the pair of you definitely acted like a couple when he did come home so, really, there was no difference in becoming official.
a quick realisation came over you that the question was very stupid.
“you think you could handle without me if we did?” sae replied— with a question, which only angered you. his small traces on your hand failing to calm your growing irritation.
“i, already, handle quite well.” to that, he hummed, kissing the back of your hand— as if mocking you with his domesticity. “you could text me some time.”
“you could, too,”
a silent agreement travelled through the two of you— knowing that nothing will change. sae didn’t have time for something so serious, and you, even through the defensive facade, wouldn’t feel good with someone who didn’t shower you, constantly, with attention.
you could only hope that, whatever you had now would continue, forever.
juna ──★ ˙🍓 ̟
yuuta didn’t know what, exactly, hypnotised him the moment he first interacted with you. he seemed to be under your spell— spilling every thought he had just to hear your laugh, that he desired every moment of the day.
the thing that surprised him, was how open he seemed to be with you, because yuuta, naturally, had a quiet personality— he was reserved and only a few could crack the shell he put around him.
but, it was almost something out of a fairytale, how your curious gaze peeked through the holes of his own border— just for him to already be staring back at you in awe.
you were like light, itself, according to yuuta— opening so many new possibilities for him, he never thought he could do, due to his personality.
it was bizarre how every small action, gesture and tilt of head possessed him to react to you, in the most serving ways. he, genuinely, wanted to be on his knees, praying to you, every second of the day, because he felt there was no other way to repay you. there was no other way to compensate for the countless butterflies and smiles you left him with.
“thank you— for being here,” you caught a shy mutter; just like you always had to with yuuta, or he’d let it fly right past you.
“i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” your breath tickling his skin, which responded in goosebumps appearing, “well, i do, kind of, want to see that new minecraft movie..”
yuuta replied with a small, lovesick, giggle, a faint colour of pink appearing on his ears as he continued to trail small circles on your back.
“we’ll go, but you have to be the skeleton to my zombie.” you, almost, cringed at that— but realised it was yuuta— of course he’d say something like that.
“deal.”
the minecraft movie was horrid but you enjoyed your time with yuuta, nonetheless.
we might even be falling in love ──★ ˙🍓 ̟
the idea of thinking about somebody more than once, was, absolutely, foreign to katsuki. so, it was reasonable when he started losing his mind because you plagued his thoughts.
at first, katsuki genuinely thought he was crazy— like mentally crazy. surely, he went insane, why else would he be thinking about you? and all the time, at that. not a moment went by without his thoughts rewinding back to your soft way of speaking, twiddling fingers and lips— this wasn’t katsuki.
he, simply, couldn’t accept what the underlying feeling was.
after the development of his ‘mental issue’ came guilt. to the point, katsuki couldn’t talk to you simply because he was ashamed that you were a constant presence in his mind. and they weren’t anything bad— it was simply the thought that he was obsessed with you that scared him.
so, he avoided you. for weeks. what he didn’t realise was, how much of a presence you shaped in his life, and he knew he couldn’t carry this on.
to say the least, katsuki felt helpless.
and, he wouldn’t do this during any regular breakdown— but this wasn’t regular. he was going mad— which led him to talk to you about it, unwillingly, of course.
“i love you, too” escaped your lips, so casually, he had to repeat your words in his mind— over and over again.
“i think you have the wrong idea— that’s not—”
“i don’t have the wrong idea. you have the wrong idea.”
katsuki stopped in his tracks, and, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, analysed every thought and moment with you. every little emotion he felt, and every reaction to what you said replayed in his mind.
fuck— he really was in love with you.
sweetener ──★ ˙🍓 ̟
satoru, naturally, had a huge sweet tooth (like extremely huge) so there was no surprise when he latched onto the sweetest thing he could find— you!
and, naturally, he couldn’t get enough of you. the moment his gaze landed on you— your delightful gleam that you seemed to carry with you at all times— satoru knew you were essential to his meal, both sexually and not.
the strongest man alive, truly, felt weak, whenever you were around.
you were in a 10 metre radius? satoru was already savouring your grudgingly tender glances and sneering words (which seemed to be your way of portraying your love, at least satoru hoped so). it seemed that anything you did, re-wired satoru into a madman, who was at your service, instantly.
especially now, as a fever inflicted your body to become frail— which you were supposed to be the exact opposite of, to support satoru’s frailness, but nonetheless he took great pride in helping you.
even though, he was absolutely horrible at helping.
“do you— do you, like, need something?? i don’t really know—” and, of course, he was panicking ; satoru has never been sick so how should he know how to treat you? “i’ll get you like, err, a pillow to lay on or—?” it almost seemed like he was more panicked than you - by your own illness!
“’toru, hey, satoru!” a shout seemed to get his attention— you really ought to treat him like a child more often. “just get me ibuprofen and water, would you?”
simple enough— satoru could handle that, you think, closing your eyes as a sudden weariness immerses you.
a moment or two pass before his words start spilling again.
“hi, so….” your eyes peek up at him, unwillingly, expecting a, simple, tablet and cup of water— instead you open your eyes to an embarrassed satoru, smiling so innocently. “where is the ibuprofen?”
with the loudest sigh you could muster, you go to grab it yourself. and although satoru was absolutely useless at helping, the important thing was that he was here.
because, really, that’s the only thing you needed. him. and an ibuprofen, sometimes.
summer bummer ──★ ˙🍓 ̟
it was the summer of 2009 when getou suguru’s life changed. and it was all because he met you. like, really, met you.
because, sure, you were in the same group of friends, and to some extent talked to each other. but you definitely would’ve never expected to wind up in suguru’s bed— practically every morning, dancing your fingers along his hair, so casually, as if you were life long lovers.
that first night during the summer, he welcomed you into his bed with open arms, of course. i mean— you appeared at his front door in literal tears and it was impossible to say no to you when you cried for him, as if he was god, himself.
that night was suguru’s best night he’s had— ever.
and the thing that excited suguru the most, was the fact no one else knew. it was your little, lustful chapter where only you and him could read the words and touches and glances you exchanged. there was something so exhilarating to watch you laugh with your friends, while knowing that you’ll be in his arms tonight. and no one else knew.
it’s not like he was embarrassed of you— he definitely wasn’t. there was, simply, something about how his dopamine hit whenever his gaze met yours and you ended up a flustered mess, for no reason (at least that’s what your friends thought).
and when it got really out of control— when suguru got really out of control— he took you to the nearest room, where no one else could enter, and ravished in your surprised appearance.
“sugu?” your sweet voice whispered, his hand placed, gently, onto your neck as his thumb moved to your chin, opening your mouth widely.
“hi, beautiful,” a lewd smirk appeared, tilting his head to the side as he engrossed in your expression, taking in every small twitch of brow and bite of lip. “you don’t mind, do you?”
and, practically, instantly a small shake of your head responded, looking up at him with such need and necessity, as if you couldn’t possibly live without his touch and cock. this makes suguru smile, because how couldn’t he smile? he had you wrapped around his finger, and you had him wrapped around yours.
he never knew anything more ideal than your relationship with him.