yuquinzel

[yuquinzel]

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[yuquinzel]

— 7:35 P.M.

feat. katsuki bakugo. fluff. short drabble. wrote it to come to terms with the fact that i am, undeniably, bewitched by this man. :>

“the fuck?”

katsuki mumbles under his breath, his incoherent grumbling fading in and out of your earshot as he stomps over to the kitchen counter where you're standing. “I told you to use a butter knife, idiot.”

he grits his teeth, but his eyes— sharp enough to slice the apples you’re currently cutting— hold no real bite.

“well, hello to you too, baby.” you offer him a tender smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. he lets out a petty little sound in protest, but leans in anyway— lets it linger longer than he means to.

without another word, his hand reaches for the knife. he takes it from you with a gentleness that smooths out the roughness of his much larger hands. then, the apple you were halfway through slicing. all while making claims and complaints about how you don’t really take his words seriously at all nowadays.

“why the fuck do we have such sharp-ass knives?!”

he mutters it low, voice dropping instinctively now that he’s standing so close.

he always does this when you’re near— lowers his voice into something softer, slower. tries his best to soothe it with tamed and hushed words. it’s a habit that formed over time.

you blur and bloom into his life in all colours, softening all the sharp edges piece him together. and he works damn hard to paint everyday in a kind of rare subtlety that he never believed he was capable of. practices with the kind of softness he always thought his hands wouldn’t be able to handle.

he never says it out loud, but you’re someone to be treated with care. always.

which is why—

“what if your clumsy ass ends up with more cuts than the fruit, huh?”

he’s not grumbling anymore. his voice is velvet now, baritone and warm, and it wraps around you like a blanket. you feel your heart swell.

“katsuki, honey, I can skillfully wield a katana. I’m excellent with blades.”

you laugh, mellow and sweet.

“you’ve never let me use a knife before, but seriously? you think a kitchen knife’s gonna hurt me when a sword doesn’t?”

his brows stay drawn, but he’s not frowning anymore. “I know ya can kill a man in twelve different ways, baby. don’t mean shit. you’re not using a knife like this in our house. i don’t care whose house it is. butter knife. that’s it.”

and just like that, he’s already done slicing two apples.

“...dude.”

he turns his head just slightly to glance at you, eyes narrow.

“who’re you talking to?”

the warning is soft, teasing. he’s always hated when you use any word for him other than baby, sweetheart, honey— even just his name wrapped in your voice, bleeding with so much meaning, like it’s an answer to everything, ever since he first heard them from your lips.

“seriously, katsuki...”

you try to feign annoyance, lips thinning—but he knows better. knows the way your mouth twitches at the corners, how you can't quite hold back your smile.

he smirks. he’s already tempted to kiss you again.

“dinner’s on you while you’re at it, then!”

you toss it over your shoulder as you walk away.

“OI! I NEVER SAID I’D DO EVERYTHING! WE’RE WORKING TOGETHER!”

THIS IS SO ASS I HAVENT WRITTEN ANYTHING IN SO LONG AND IT SHOWS LORDDDDDDDDDD DELIVER US FROM THIS WRITER’S BLOCK;-;-;-;-

[yuquinzel]

▬▬▬ ink and bloom.

feat. itoshi sae. sensual. 600+ wc. sae has a silent obsession with your tattoo.

“why flowers?” itoshi sae had asked you once, his thumb smoothing over the ink skimming the curves of your hips down to your thigh. the tenderness of his touch against your bare skin would contrast his hardened gaze that scanned the pattern over and over again.

something about the tattoo etched into your skin—sprawling vines intertwined with blooming flowers—kept pulling at the corners of his mind. he couldn't explain the quiet obsession, it just lulled in his mind, unwavering and tentative.

“why not?” you tilted your head, amused by his rare curiosity.

the playful evasion didn’t make it any better. he wanted to know more— how long you’ve had the tattoo, did it hurt, what was the inspiration for it, who had been entrusted with marking your skin permanently. someone else had given you that art. a brand of beauty etched into the softness he knew intimately.

the realization tasted weird in his mouth. bitter and burning. it gnawed on his mind in ways he did not want to acknowledge.

sae was meticulous, methodical in his approach to life and football. control was his element. yet here you were, chaotic in the way you tangled his thoughts, much like the vines woven down your hips. he memorized every curve of the inked lines, every petal that bloomed under his gaze. he ran his lips over the outlines and patterns in moments of entangled breaths. it was the first thing he’d do. where he started. he was drawn to feeling the intimate story your tattoo would tell if he kissed it with enough passion.

it was never enough for him. how could he ever calm the blooming desire to overdraw your tattoo with something of his own.

when his mouth found its way to the intricate design, it was instinctual—a silent claim painted in violet and red. he did everything he could, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin and tongue gliding long and leisurely slides. he would let his breath hover there for seconds, then resume with even more intensity, sucking and biting painted skin. while his hands explored every other inch of your body in a rush to make most of the moment, his mouth was reserved for the pattern over your thigh. his movements seemed almost calculated, much calmer and patient, yet hungrier than anything else.

the marks bloomed across your tattoo like wild blossoms, blending with the ink as though they were always meant to be there. hickeys carved from something deeper than fleeting lust, something intangible that sae could not express as just ‘desire’. they were temporary, he knew, fading reminders that made way for permanence again.

but still, he returned to that place every chance he got. pressing his lips there felt like rewriting a story he hadn’t been a part of from the beginning. his tongue traced the path of vines, leaving warmth and want in its wake, each kiss layered with meaning neither of you dared speak aloud.

in the low glow of night, your breath hitched as sae’s teeth grazed the petals inked along your hips. “you’re obsessed,” you teased, voice breathy.

he didn’t respond, not verbally. his mouth pressed firmly against your skin, another unspoken answer blooming against your flesh. if you understood the truth behind it—if you knew the possessive tangle of thoughts winding in his mind—you didn’t say.

and sae preferred it that way. the silent exchange of kisses and control, desire and answers. no words, just marks made by lips where ink once reigned alone. temporary proof that, even if he hadn’t inked the art on your skin, he could still claim it in his own way.

© yuquinzel2025 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

hiiiii this has been sitting in my drafts for too long and oops 🤭

[yuquinzel]

your layout makes me really nostalgic and sad/pos 😭 sorry if this is random..

— hehehe it does feel nostalgic to me as well because i’ve grown out of that aesthetic and feel like changing it but at the same time, too much effort went into it and i’m kinda lazy these days so i can’t bring myself to change it :’)))

[yuquinzel]

▬▬▬ ink and bloom.

feat. itoshi sae. sensual. 600+ wc. sae has a silent obsession with your tattoo.

“why flowers?” itoshi sae had asked you once, his thumb smoothing over the ink skimming the curves of your hips down to your thigh. the tenderness of his touch against your bare skin would contrast his hardened gaze that scanned the pattern over and over again.

something about the tattoo etched into your skin—sprawling vines intertwined with blooming flowers—kept pulling at the corners of his mind. he couldn't explain the quiet obsession, it just lulled in his mind, unwavering and tentative.

“why not?” you tilted your head, amused by his rare curiosity.

the playful evasion didn’t make it any better. he wanted to know more— how long you’ve had the tattoo, did it hurt, what was the inspiration for it, who had been entrusted with marking your skin permanently. someone else had given you that art. a brand of beauty etched into the softness he knew intimately.

the realization tasted weird in his mouth. bitter and burning. it gnawed on his mind in ways he did not want to acknowledge.

sae was meticulous, methodical in his approach to life and football. control was his element. yet here you were, chaotic in the way you tangled his thoughts, much like the vines woven down your hips. he memorized every curve of the inked lines, every petal that bloomed under his gaze. he ran his lips over the outlines and patterns in moments of entangled breaths. it was the first thing he’d do. where he started. he was drawn to feeling the intimate story your tattoo would tell if he kissed it with enough passion.

it was never enough for him. how could he ever calm the blooming desire to overdraw your tattoo with something of his own.

when his mouth found its way to the intricate design, it was instinctual—a silent claim painted in violet and red. he did everything he could, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin and tongue gliding long and leisurely slides. he would let his breath hover there for seconds, then resume with even more intensity, sucking and biting painted skin. while his hands explored every other inch of your body in a rush to make most of the moment, his mouth was reserved for the pattern over your thigh. his movements seemed almost calculated, much calmer and patient, yet hungrier than anything else.

the marks bloomed across your tattoo like wild blossoms, blending with the ink as though they were always meant to be there. hickeys carved from something deeper than fleeting lust, something intangible that sae could not express as just ‘desire’. they were temporary, he knew, fading reminders that made way for permanence again.

but still, he returned to that place every chance he got. pressing his lips there felt like rewriting a story he hadn’t been a part of from the beginning. his tongue traced the path of vines, leaving warmth and want in its wake, each kiss layered with meaning neither of you dared speak aloud.

in the low glow of night, your breath hitched as sae’s teeth grazed the petals inked along your hips. “you’re obsessed,” you teased, voice breathy.

he didn’t respond, not verbally. his mouth pressed firmly against your skin, another unspoken answer blooming against your flesh. if you understood the truth behind it—if you knew the possessive tangle of thoughts winding in his mind—you didn’t say.

and sae preferred it that way. the silent exchange of kisses and control, desire and answers. no words, just marks made by lips where ink once reigned alone. temporary proof that, even if he hadn’t inked the art on your skin, he could still claim it in his own way.

© yuquinzel2025 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

hiiiii this has been sitting in my drafts for too long and oops 🤭

[yuquinzel]

finish the bkg fic please im starving 😢

— I totally forgot about it and now it’s exam season, forgive me, for you’ll have to starve for a while 😿

[yuquinzel]

nvm i can't. too in love with current one.

I’m gonna do a complete theme change to signify my character development huuhuheheheh

[yuquinzel]

I’m gonna do a complete theme change to signify my character development huuhuheheheh

[yuquinzel]

Do people still read bakugo fics and all I’m suddenly falling back into my bkg phase mhm...

[yuquinzel]

ANONS I SEE YOU MOOTS I SEE YOU AND UHM I’LL SLOWLY GET TO REPLYING it’s just the number of messages sending me into overdrive </33

[yuquinzel]

— flowerthief.

feat. itoshi rin. fluff <3 short drabble. rin doesn’t greet you without flowers.

itoshi rin shows up at your house at exactly 9:38 pm — standing in all his glory — drenched in sweat and a mess of shattered breaths. you know he ran all the way here, which you can’t find the reason for when you check the time twice to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

you would’ve said something like rin what the hell it’s so late or maybe just cross your arms and peer down at him with a look that says well? to what do I owe the pleasure except it’s only sarcasm.

you would say all that if the first thing he did as you opened the door wasn’t shoving the HUGE bouquet of flowers in your face.

you have no idea where this is going.

it takes 10 seconds for you to realise he’s not going to move from his spot unless you accept the flowers and get them out of your face.

“uhm... what?” is all you can say.

“flowers.” he replies. only now allowing himself to relax and lean against the wall.

“i can see that, but why now?” you bring your fingers to trace the petals. rin is aware of all your favorites, so you’re not surprised to find them sweetly tucked together.

in fact this isn’t the first time he’s given you flowers.

ever since three months ago at the start of your relationship, when you had mindlessly told him you’ve never been given flowers— rin had made it his life’s mission to bring you flowers every. single. day. it’s sometimes a bouquet of blooming colors, sometimes it’s just a small flower he could’ve found anywhere on the roadside.

rin doesn’t greet you without flowers.

“i was so busy with practice today, i couldn’t come earlier.” he says in a somewhat hurried tone, each word cut off by the next.

you think of the hurried text he’d sent you earlier — practice’ll drag out today. i can’t come. sorry. — it was simple, and you knew he was busy so you weren’t upset over it either.

“i thought you couldn’t come?”

“but i wanted to.”

that explains the impromptu visit past 9 pm, the disheveled hair and the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead saying he ran like there was no tomorrow.

“that’s okay rinnie. you give me flowers everyday. it’s okay if you were too busy.” your fingers trace the soft petals. rin holds his breath.

“no, it’s not. i give you flowers everyday. why should today be any different?”

a smile tugs at your lips. you feel giddy and warm. the thought that he’d rushed out of practice and took the time to get you a bouquet of your favourites just to come see you even though he must be exhausted — why he goes out of his way to make you feel special — it sort of steals your breath and make your heart ricochet like bullets in your ribcage.

so when you take your hand to brush his cheeks, the warmth lingering in your hands, rin takes a hold of it in a firm grip. his own hand resting on top of yours to keep it there.

his shoulders relax, “do you like them?” he asks, like always, eyes shining with a glimmer you only ever see around you.

“i love them.” you say, all your love for him and his flowers safely wrapped up in the syllables.

rin lets a small smile play at his lips, “...and?”

you laugh at this, knowing exactly what he means. “and i love you.”

“i love you too.” rin mirrors your laugh, a sputter of low breaths throughout the air.

© yuquinzel2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

one less draft. woohoo. fellas i present to you, rin, the epitome of “if he wanted to, he would.”

[yuquinzel]

FORMS OF AFFECTION feat ⨾ blue lock !

𓈒࣪ 𐐪𐑂 ─ contents ⨾ gn! reader, fluff, bllk boys as forms of affection!

𓈒࣪ 𐐪𐑂 ─ characters ⨾ rin, sae, nagi, reo, isagi, chigiri.

ITOSHI RIN. . .

fills the gap between your fingers with his own, entwining them tightly and lovingly. he does it to keep you close in crowds— firm and protective, making sure to always keep you in his sights. he does it on mornings he wakes up before you, always following it up with dusting his lips across your knuckles. he holds onto your hand when you're watching his horror favorites, and if you ask him, it's not really intentional— he just does it subconsciously, seeking for your hand like it's only natural to be connected to you. it grounds him. it makes him remember that you're with him, and he holds on to your hand with the sincerity of never wanting to let go.

ITOSHI SAE. . .

rakes his fingers through your hair— soft and tentative, brushing back the strands of hair behind your ears. he repeats it with a rhythm, of low hums and silken touches under the night. he knows it calms you, a wave of serenity washing over your senses when you feel his fingers thread along your hair. if he's being honest, it's more of a selfish act than a serving one because you don't know that the feel of your hair in his hand is nothing but a gentle reminder of not being alone. he feels all his worry knots unwind the moment you smile at him, so really it's much more selfish than he wishes it was.

NAGI SEISHIRO. . .

bites your fingers— never too harsh but always following it up with a chaste kiss to soothe whatever little hurt it could leave in its traces. it's laced with a childish mischief, but something intimate. the cuts of his teeth brushing lightly against the tip of your finger before you feel the softness of his lips. its a habit leftover from way before you started dating, something that makes your heart skip millions of beat in one second. he does it to get your attention, and then to keep it, and it's something that always works.

REO MIKAGE. . .

kisses your wrists, fingers loosely wrapped around it under the cold pooling your sheets. he's sweet and shy, his laugh nothing but a vibrato of sound spilling against your skin as much as the moonlight. it's a foreign feeling that you're growing accustomed to, and he holds your hand till his fingers slip to your wrist. then, he brings his lips to meet the warmth of your skin. his lips linger with the ache of home, time melts before you pull your next breath and he smiles against your skin, again.

ISAGI YOICHI. . .

greets you with the press of his lips to your forehead— never lasting more than a few heartbeats. his lips are warm unlike his hands, and he can never resist the smile tugging at his lips when you dip your head forward just seconds before he kisses you. it's how he greets and it's how he bids a farewell, a muffled love you, i'll see you later escapes his lips and it feels as though times melts into infinity before he can kiss you again.

CHIGIRI HYOMA. . .

ruffles your hair, it's always followed up by a i promise i'll see you later because he's leaving and you're pouting and he thinks you look so cute. his laugh sputters through the air like scattered breaths and echoes till it leaves reminders of him. he rests his hand on the crown of your head, giving it a few pats before ruffling your hair. and he'll do the same when he sees you again, maybe less for the act itself and more for your reaction— the pink dusting your cheeks. he thinks he'll definitely see you again.

© yuquinzel2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights! ]

[yuquinzel]

YOURS AND MINE — nagi seishiro.

nagi seishiro isn't big on nicknames.

sure, on lazy sunday mornings, he'll throw in a "let's just stay like this for five more minutes, hmm babe?" words muffled because he chooses to hide his face in the crook of your neck, his hold on you tightening just slightly when you make a sound of protest. "five more minutes" he says, and you think it would do no harm. but that's all it takes for him to fall asleep and you can't quite bring yourself to get up when he looks so peaceful. cheeks full and wholesome and snow-coloured bangs falling over his eyes.

and on long wednesday nights when you're just a little more tired than usual, eyes heavy with drowsiness, your responses low and short. the times he knows you're having a bad day even when you haven't said anything, he'll casually whisper endearments like "how 'bout we just get to bed and cuddle? you up for that angel?" when you nod silently, he picks you up from where you're slumped on the couch, letting your head fall on his chest to place delicate kisses on your forehead.

warm friday afternoons when you're getting ready for your riverside picnic date & nagi seishiro is busy trying to level up his characters. when you step out of your shared bedroom, still fixing your hair and your clothes and your hair again, nagi spares you a glance when you ask him if you look okay. he hums. doesn't like the adjective. "okay" is downright disrespectful and unjustified to describe you. he turns his attention back to his phone screen, letting the silence take form for a few seconds, "you always look pretty, princess"

mellow saturday evenings. nagi seishiro still isn't big on nicknames. sure he calls you babe, angel, sweetheart, love. anything that melts on his tongue like sugarpaper and glosses over his lips when they meet yours. when his tongue glides across your own, when he closes his eyes to solely focus on the presence of you and your scent, your touch, your smile, your hands in his hair and his on your waist.

between the hushed breaths and low-lidded eyes, the faint taste of nectar on each other's lips that nagi knows he won't ever get enough of, you call him by his name and he calls you by yours.

nagi seishiro decides he likes calling you by your name more than anything. because you're too much and not enough at the same time, because he knows no endearment could ever compare to the special ring his name has when you say it. because he wants to revel in the intimacy of beings yours and yours alone, in moments like this when you're his and only his. because he knows your eyes will search for him in a crowd at the call of your name. because he knows every initial of your name like he knows he's bound to win every game when you're watching.

because he knows your name belongs to him just as much as his belongs to you.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

[yuquinzel]

can I show my love for you.... ( making biscuits on your thighs )

[yuquinzel]

the day i can publish all my drafts is the day I'll agree I can die peacefully

[yuquinzel]

atsumu who goes above and beyond to impress you, his crush and classmate of four years, in all definitions of “impress.”

honestly how the fuck isn't it obvious to you by now, he might as well be walking around with “i like y/n” tattooed on his forehead.

you mention you like guys that can cook once and holy fuck atsumu who still doesn't know how to use the microwave without quite literally burning the food, who's never chopped onions before without ending up with enough cuts to bandage his whole hand— that atsumu practices for weeks and stays up till 2 am to prepare for the lunch he'll make for himself, because osamu said said no and then because you bring homemade lunch to stay and eat in class with your friends— he'll casually just plop down on the seat next to you, his friends will then very obviously willingly talk loudly about his lunch and he'll just throw in a, “yeah, made it maself, 'm a solid chef, who do ya think taught 'samu?”

okay if that didn't get your attention, no worries, what are his friends there for?

if atsumu gets lucky in a day and catches you chatting away with your friends in the hallway, then he instructs his friends to walk past you, hover in the corner, just within your earshot— “'kay, so when we pass her by, ya gotta speak ma name real loud, loud enough so she can hear it, but don't annoy her”

and so for the time you stand there, trying to hold a conversation with your friends, all your mind can really focus on is the, “atsumu was so fucking good in practice today, if we're gonna win, then it'll be all him”

and then you hear the subject of the conversation speak, “nah, we're a team, every time we win, it's all thanks ta you guys,” because you also mentioned you like modest, humble guys.

god forbid the days you're absent in class.

atsumu who's sulking all day, doesn't know what the fuck is going on in classes, he's half in and half not in every conversation, even his passes are sloppy and weak. to the point osamu and suna are concerned, well, in their own ways, “are ya constipated or something, yer missin’ your spikes and yer passes as clumsy,” osamu says off-handedly.

“i heard y/n didn't come today, i think her friends said she's sick.” suna chips in, and atsumu shrinks in his spot like a grumpy cat.

“i already know that, wouldn't have come today if i knew she wasn't comin’.”

“you'd miss practice then.”

“don't care, don't talk to me, don't wanna do anything, what's the point.”

“down fucking bad,” suna muses, and atsumu glares at him.

atsumu's day is ruined and his disappointment is immeasurable. why did you get sick? how could you get sick? now he's worried and half of himself and his passes are shit and god, he wants to see you. he feels like he could die.

then when you finally show up the next day after what felt like eternity to atsumu, you find on your desk a pile of snacks with a little note— banana milk, everyone knows it's your favourite, the bar of chocolate they only sell down the convenience store near the school, the glazed donuts that you're always eating in class, and a lot of bubblegums that only one person in class knows you like— atsumu's handwriting is rushed and barely comprehensive but you know it by heart because he doesn't know you saw him slip the note you found in your locker this morning, and countless other mornings—

“i hope you smile because of this”

atsumu as a secret admirer is... not so secret because he's still unaware that you see him every morning, and let him giggle to himself as he slips the notes and the strips of bubblegums in your locker— you don't even like that flavor.

but he gave them, so you think they might just be your favourite.

then again, maybe atsumu doesn't want to be a secret admirer.

atsumu has a crush on you and you know that— he's very obvious. but he's also very dense and doesn't realise that everyone besides him can see you like him too. he doesn't know the only reason you bring homemade lunch is because he had started to eat lunch in class with his friends. you stand in the hallways with your friends pretending to talk so that when atsumu's walking past you, his friends will practically yell his name and you'll see him blushing shyly. he still doesn't know you come to his every match, cheering for him and scream with joy at every one of his scores.

atsumu makes it obvious he has a crush on you but is stupidly dense that you reciprocate all the same :'))))

© yuquinzel 2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

POSTING BECAUSE WHY TF NOT HUH HUHHHHHHHHH

@kyoghurts hi bbg

[yuquinzel]

— nobody’s business.

feat. itoshi sae. a little sensual. 700+ wc. self indulgent :> publicizing your relationship with japan’s star player.

itoshi sae is holding onto your hand, a little more firmly than ever before. teal eyes out ahead on the field in front of you both searching for something you can’t name. you follow his gaze— it’s on the bleachers first, then hastily eyeing every player on the pitch. it’s on the spectators one second, then it’s on the cameras panning and zooming in from every direction.

sae grimaces when one such camera directs at the two of you, pulling you behind and away from the prying eyes of the media eager to catch just a glimpse of japan’s prized player and his partner who he keeps oh so hidden from the world.

he’s never denied being in a relationship. never tried to refute dating allegations with a non-celebrity, never once fazed to address the blurred pictures of him making out with someone in his car, never tried to hide the bruises on his neck that catch the eye of every fan leaving nobody wondering what it really is. he knows what they’ll do once they really know who you are— the paparazzi wouldn’t fucking leave you alone, following you everywhere. magazines would be willing to kill to get just one word from you and twist it to their likings. sae’s discreet with his words though, never gives them something to work with.

it was not until you addressed it to him yourself. just another article surfacing all around social media. something that had left a bitter taste on your tongue. ‘ itoshi sae and his supposed girlfriend ! ’ — it’s a picture of sae with a model you don’t know the name of, attending an event you weren’t invited to. he looks clearly unimpressed. but it helps little when every single comment under the article is how of well the two look together.

how well itoshi sae looks with someone who’s not you.

“you’ve already denied the rumours, so then why...” you’d said, avoiding his gaze for reasons you can’t pinpoint. “they always make up shit to write when their lukewarm ass doesn’t have real shit to sell.” he’d answered, “don’t think much about it. they’ll forget about it soon.”

when you didn’t say anything back, sae had known what he was to do. he’d known what it was you were asking of him with your silence. and for you, he was more than willing.

he’s sure a few cameras would’ve captured him with you by now, your face clear and beautiful for everyone to see and engrave on their papers and headlines. they’ll adorn you with pretty words and pretty adjectives, and he’ll have to share you with the eyes of the world now. something about it leaves a bitter flavor on his tongue, so he kisses you instead to taste the sweetness of your lips.

“don’t take your eyes off me,” he rasps between the kisses, one hand coming to cradle your jaw while the other hooks around your waist. “look at only me.”

“only you.” you say and sae breathes you in. he leans down closer, lips moving against yours more desperately than ever. he’s pleased with your answer. phantom touches of his hands slithering under your shirt and tracing the skin of your abdomen.

you forget about the match about to start in a mere minutes, about the cameras still desperate to get one glimpse of this very scene, and if you do remember that his teammates would march out any second now— sae makes you forget about everyone else when he tugs on your bottom lip lightly, “afraid? ” he challenges you with a long, languid glide of his tongue, “of what? I’m the only thing on your mind. ”

later when the game ends with the final pass from sae leading to a goal, the camera pans to you sitting in the vip section and cheering for sae and his team. another pans to sae when he notices you on the screen. sae ignores the roars of the crowd, ignores his teammates gathering around him, screaming for their win. he looks at you, waiting intently. you know what he’s asking of you — did you watch? he shifts forward ever so slightly — was i good?

you’re smiling as you mouth a clear I’m so proud of you — and only then does sae feels like he’s won.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

why am I posting this it's a year old 🧘🏻‍♀️🧘🏻‍♀️