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nothing scarier than being a fan of a fic and then becoming mutuals with the author. like hi shakespeare. big fan of your fake dating au

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Hey what should I do with my life?

everything and all of it

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the legend of fwb!sae itoshi continues! happy thursday! 🫶🏽

cw. angst (violence, arguments), smut (small mentions of previous encounters), fluff (y/n + karasu being cute and nervous).

wc. around 4k

an. sae itoshi, you will pay for your crimes.

previously: 1 | 2 | 2.5 | 3

your current location: the somewhat stuffy living room of rensuke kunigami, joining team blue lock and their legion of fans in celebrating their win against the U20s. it’d been a week or so since the actual game, but the intoxicating spirit of victory had yet to die out.

that notification on your phone all that time ago had been a complete blindside, leading you to this moment. a dm from a friend of yours, reading, the soccer players love you, huh?

under the message was a screenshot of her conversation with tabito karasu, who you’d seen play (and lose) against sae a few times. you’d recalled his physical features: spiky hair tinged purple, piercing blue eyes with a cute mole right below the left one. you’d also conjured a memory of his assertiveness on the field, how smoothly he led and took control…

yo

i can't stop thinking about your friend from the bar

what friend?

the pretty one you were with a few days ago who drank nothing but whiskey and coke

i need her

lmao RELAX!

if you need her so bad, why didn't you talk to her?

idk i got nervous

plus you didn't even introduce us

rude

tabito you could have anyone you want and you were nervous to talk to her????

plus you're a grown man!!! introduce yourself motherfucker!!

leave me alone this time okay, her beauty intimidated me…a lot

do you know if she's seeing anyone?

i'll give her your number and you can ask her yourself, how about that?

yes yes yes please oh thank you god

you were quick to reply, if he’s anything like sae, keep him away from me!

your thumbnail felt the rage of your teeth as you watched the three dots flicker over your screen.

it hadn't even been a full day since sae's rejection; the freshness of it all had you cynical towards talking to anyone, let alone another soccer player that was in his orbit. birds of a feather flock together and all that, and the prospect had you unnerved as your friend sent, he’s a good guy, give him a shot if you wanna xxx-xxx-xxxx.

you'd thought about giving it time, letting yourself refresh your mind with some sleep and a sae-free day, but karasu's adamance towards you had fascinated.

hi hi

i heard you needed me? (:

you and karasu hit it off immediately, talking about any and everything until the tangerine sunrise began spilling through your bedroom curtains. you felt like a teenager again, kicking your feet and giggling at how effortless your conversation was.

karasu had been so considerate and attentive through text, replying fairly quickly despite the time of day, and talking more about you than himself among other things.

even the unwanted inevitable conclusion of your exchange was filled to the brim with want and compassion, leaving you with a thwacking heartbeat and flimsy limbs.

you need your rest, beautiful. i’m sorry i kept you up

i didn't want it to seem like a booty call, i was just so lost in thought about you

i couldn't sleep, which is embarrassing

booty call was a thought i had, yes, but you've proven otherwise

plus, i chose to stay up and talk to you. i'm glad i did

i don’t usually do this sort of thing so you must be special

special enough to take you out soon? (:

hmmmm

does soon mean...later today after i’m done with work, all dolled up and ready to tear into some seafood?

if that's your definition, absolutely (: i’ll see you tonight darling

you were an absentminded mess on the clock that day, lost in thought regarding your newfound spontaneity. never had things fallen into place like this, so uncomplicated that you were committed to moving quickly; even more shockingly, you'd already begun to heal the wound that sae had left in your chest.

karasu was nothing short of a gentleman, if not the most chivalrous man you'd ever met in your entire life. he'd greeted you at your front door with a polite knock, slanted grin, and a large bouquet of your favorite flowers, and you'd nearly passed away from his gestures in combination with his lean, fit physique outfitted in a fitted navy blue polo and black jeans. he'd gawked too, although he tried to keep it respectful. how could he keep his eyes from sweeping all over, holding still in certain places…especially when every one of your curves was accentuated by your lace shawl and leopard-print dress.

oi.

you were the first to speak after a shared fit of nervous chuckles, twirling one of your curls around your finger and murmuring, "uh...hi."

"hey," karasu returned, shaking his head. "i'm sorry, i'm just...takin' ya in, i guess…the pictures of ya are one thing but…god, yer so beautiful." his accent made your heart lurch, and you worked quick to try and move past the butterflies of it all, waving him off.

"ah…you’re making me blush…thank you though, and ditto. it's really nice to meet you.”

"you too, darlin'. thank you for letting me take you out. i didn’t know [friend’s name] was gonna out me like she did…i looked desperate as fuck.”

“well, she’s notoriously shady…but it didn’t look desperate in my eyes. you just seemed set on what you wanted, and i liked that. a lot.”

“well, that’s a relief. i thought i’d killed my chance before i got one…��� you shook your head “no” as karasu remembered the bouquet being suffocated in his hand.

“uh, these are for you," he passed the flowers off to you and you thanked him, giving them a sniff (mostly to hide your feverish face). "[friend’s name] said you loved tulips so…i ran around town looking for the best florist earlier.”

“oh my god, you didn’t have to do that…they’re beautiful, karasu. thank you.”

“gah, my surname’s too formal. call me tabito. were you ready to go? i made reservations at this seafood spot downtown. it’s kinda like those all-ya-can-eat steakhouses, but somehow more pretentious? anyway, they’ll feed us to the lobsters if we’re late.” karasu held his hand out to you.

he helped you down your stairs. he opened his passenger door for you. he buckled your seatbelt (after asking if it was okay!)

sae would never. sae could never.

you'd felt foolish for sweating over him the entire day before, but no longer. the next three months and counting with karasu had entirely eclipsed that one moment of hell that you’d lived in with sae, and you feel so thankful for your resilience as you plunge deeper into one of kunigami's shitty, weed-perfumed couches, karasu's lips sliding against yours in perfect sync.

he hadn't been off you for much of the night, giving his hand residence on your hip under the waistband of your skirt. karasu (or tab, as you'd come to call him) was beyond handsy, and though he backed off when you told him to, he loved all the sounds you made when you felt his skin connect with yours and make its claim.

the other blue lock boys had never seen him so enraptured by someone, but karasu swore he would never let you go. you were a gem, and from that night he’d seen you hanging off your friend at the bar, mouthing off to a rude security guard, he knew he would do anything to get and keep you.

his hands find the small of your back now, pressing you closer into him with a guttural moan. you’re throwing a leg over his lap in a heartbeat, gripping the neckline of his shirt in your fingers and pulling until you're basically swallowing each other. you'd both drank a lot little of this, smoked a bunch bit of that, and nothing existed outside of the steamy, trashed bubble that you two had forged. nothing at all!

nothing but the abrupt and inconvenient appearance of a certain itoshi brother.

one moment, you're lightheaded from having karasu’s tongue down your throat, and the next, you're blinking to clear your vision, choking out, "sae! what the fuck!?" at the top of your lungs.

you'd felt the stillness in the air once he'd arrived, but why would you pay attention to something like that? it didn't matter to you that people had started to go silent, or that rin had roared, "the hell are you doing here?"

you were rapt in your debauchery until it was wrenched from your grasp, translated into a frenzy of airborne fists and graphic curses.

sae doesn't stop throwing punches. even as he feels karasu's hands reach up, fingertips in his cheek and palm against his nose, he keeps throwing hit after hit after hit. he doesn't care if he can't see. he doesn't care if everyone is watching, gasping, whispering.

he doesn't care that this idiot is your everything now. he doesn't care that you're screeching for him to stop. he’s on a mission, and it wouldn't be complete until tabito karasu was a gory, unrecognizable corpse.

sae's assault is finally halted once kunigami irritably wrangles him into full nelson, forcing his hands into the nape of his neck in an attempt to tranquillize his anger.

hiori and otoya have already carried karasu off somewhere, working hastily in the heat of the moment, and all you can do is frantically follow kunigami as he makes his way towards the front door, disappointedly watching sae flail and spit vulgarities into the air.

he tosses sae to the concrete walkway once the door's opened, causing him to trip over his feet and fall face first onto the rock-solid ground.

"go home and cool the fuck off, itoshi," kunigami snaps, and you slip past him, crossing your arms over your chest as you look down upon sae with a deep-set frown. "beating the shit out of karasu isn't gonna change the fact that you lost."

"it's not about that," sae grits out, still face-first against the concrete. you wave kunigami and all the other worried onlookers off, assuring them that you'll handle it. "let tab know that i'll check on him in a second, please? thanks.''

you and sae are left alone to each other, the warm spring breeze operating as a temporary filler for the silence that stretches between you. this is your first time seeing him in months, and it's like this; disheartening isn't a strong enough word.

sae flips himself onto his back, and it's the first time that you make eye contact in forever. he buzzes with a foreign current, emotional and irrational and impulsive. you don't recognize him beyond his physical features, yet he sees you in totality.

you haven’t changed. it’s like no time has passed at all and he’s seeing you after practice, eager to take you home. it’s a film over his eyes, finished with how angelic you look under the halo of kunigami’s porch light.

he makes note of your hair being thrown up, a rarity for you, and how short your skirt is…how your bra peeks over the top of your camisole, and how it's not for him, but for him.

"tab…does he make you call him that?" sae rasps, his mouth desertic and numb. he's the winner in this.

"how did you find out where i was, sae? ” you ignore his jab, your voice a curt slice through the air. you knew he watched your story; he’d been watching and liking them the entire time, yet you never engaged. he’d even sent you a message once; a plain, boring hey y/n are we okay?. you’d been so unimpressed by his lack of awareness that you didn’t even open it. “no one in there knows about us, so you do look like a sore loser coming here to fight karasu.”

“if i was a sore fucking loser, i would’ve gone after isagi or rin," he barks, still splayed out on the ground. "karasu is nothing to me, nothing but a fucking prick trying to take you away from me—“

"oh, fuck you, sae! i’m not yours and i never was!" you try to stifle back the tremor that coats your words, and sae uses that brief pause in your momentum to cut in.

"so what? you're all his now?" he still hasn't looked away from you, and his hard glare squashes you against the front door, a force that constrains your chest. “have you fucked him?”

you refuse to tell sae that you let karasu eat your pussy on your couch after your first date, his middle and index fingers curling up to coax more come out of you as he glided his tongue over your clit, or that he’d fingered you in the back of his car with you pressed up against his chest after your second one, leaving you blissfully teary-eyed and begging for him to actually fuck you.

“not in the car…ya deserve so much more than that, princess. we’ll get there soon, 'kay? right now, i just want ya to come on my fingers.”

“even though it’s none of your fucking business, i didn’t let you fuck me for six months. you think i let him do it in three? is that really what you think of me?” you snap, bringing yourself back to earth and ignoring the ache between your thighs.

“you were…you’re my friend, y/n." sae despises the way that his eyes get tight with sentimentality. it sets in that this is most likely the way you felt when he'd brushed you off, called you needy...sent you home alone. it was a pit in his stomach, hollow and excruciating. “i miss my friend.”

“friends don’t do what you did to me that day, sae,” you state solemnly, shifting your eyes to the sky beyond the neighborhood. you’re not sure what you’ll do if you look at him…scream or explode or die. “what if something had happened to me? you didn't even ask if i made it home, and you never got me that plan b, so you owe me, like, $60.”

sae huffs out a laugh, the corner of his mouth ticking up at your words. he missed your attitude; the one that always made his laughs turn into smiles. his reaction makes you want to dig the stiletto heel of your boot into his throat.

“i’m not fucking laughing, sae! you have a lot of work to do if you wanna get back on my good side…if i made you feel weird by asking you to come in me that night, you should’ve said something. we could’ve talked about the whole thing. i would’ve told you that i was just caught up in the moment and that i didn’t mean it.”

sae blinks. “i figured you’d be pissed at me, so i gave you space. that’s what i thought you wanted.”

“that’s what you thought i wanted. you didn’t even ask, you just…left me.”

sae finally sits up, resting his elbows over his bent knees and flexing the stinging ache out of his fingers. the physical repercussions of his actions have settled in now, and the soreness he feels all over, accompanied by a throbbing headache and the burn of your vehement scolding, has him dropping his head between his legs like a disobedient puppy. "i'm sorry, y/n."

"you need to prove it," you're unsympathetic with your statement. "not now, but in time. i sure as hell don't believe you after what you just pulled. have a good night, sae. get home safe."

after a ride from otoya and a few hours of unremarkable sleep, it’s 8 am and you're sitting with your knees tucked to your chest, helping karasu hold ice up to his swollen cheekbone. he’d been able to think quickly despite his inebriation, blocking sae's efforts and minimizing the damage taken. still, the punches sae did get in left his face hammering with pain, constant discomfort temporarily inhabiting his muscles.

it registers to karasu that his condition has nothing to do with soccer, and you seem to read his mind, sighing out, "i'm sorry."

"hey, what're you apologizin' for? you didn’t do anything.”

you'd told karasu an abridged version of your history with sae when you first texted, letting him know that it ended poorly. he couldn't believe that he'd never noticed you at one of their games, but that didn't matter anymore.

"i know...i just feel so bad that he lashed out at you. he probably thinks that you’d been planning to get with me all this time so he’s even more pissed but…it's his fault that things ended the way they did. hell, when i tried to talk to him outside, all he gave me was this bullshit apology. he didn't even look me in the eye." you rest your chin on your knees, bringing your hand down from karasu's face to pick at a thread on the hem of the shirt you're wearing. "just 'i'm sorry, y/n', as if that truly means anything. no mention of what he’s sorry for, or an explanation for how he feels…just…meaningless ‘sorry’.”

your eyes are completely free of tears as you ramble on, the acidic sensation of irritation peppered throughout. you hadn’t been sad about the situation in such a long time; after last night, the apathy that you’d paid sae had been replaced with a bitter comprehension that this was what your relationship had become. no longer was he just your friend and frequent hook-up; now, he was an aggravating thorn in your side and a bitch to deal with.

"yer not responsible for that asshole's feelings, y/n. if he's not man enough to accept a loss by his own hands, he needs to do some more maturin'. a lot more, frankly. what happened, then and now, has everything to do with him and nothin’ to do with you.”

you shoot a small, toothless smile karasu’s way, rearranging yourself so that you’re laying on your side next to him under his heavy blanket. “mmmm...you’re right.”

you’re both stilled into a comfortable silence, interrupted once karasu clears his throat.

“can i ask you somethin’?” the question is a rumble in his chest, and you hum, raising a finger to trace over his collarbones. “if i’m crossin’ a line, let me know…i’m just curious…did ya like havin’ sex with him?” you can’t stop the blush that creeps its way onto your face, snuggling closer to karasu in order to hide in his neck.

he chuckles at the tingle of your breath spreading across his sensitive skin and reaches up to stroke your hand, disarming you a bit with his touch. “just a question, doll. i’m not gonna get mad at whatever yer answer is. shit, you don’t have to answer if ya don’t….”

“no, tab, it’s okay.”

you’d come to know sae as a selfish lover; he got you off every time, but it was always by his own MO. his main priority was his pleasure, and you’d felt that in the way he’d maneuvered and handled you, molding you into the sex doll he wanted in the moment.

karasu, on the other hand, never hesitated to put you before himself. you always came first, no exceptions, and sometimes, he’d make you come three times before he even came once. he always let you take the lead as far as comfort went, letting you choose the positions and adjust them to your liking. even when he was rough, his gentlemanly spirit radiated behind his actions, making you come 10x harder than you had before.

still, your times with karasu didn't fully negate the good times you'd had with sae. they'd become your memories, and sometimes recollection had you huffing at what had been.

sae knew how to use his dick, and even though he’d never taken the time to learn your body like karasu, you hadn’t minded being free-use adjacent to him back then.

karasu’s curiosity has you lost in thought, and it's not long til he breaks up your overthinking with a hearty laugh. “i’m gonna take that as a yes.”

"i did. i did like having sex with him,” you confirm with a defeated sigh. “but...it was complicated. it was different from what we have."

“different how?”

"you care more--a lot more. sae never even asked me what i was into," you snort, and karasu hoists himself to his elbows in disbelief, wincing with the effort. his ice pack slips to the ground with a clack, and you pout at him. "hey...lay back down."

he obeys, wide-eyed and repulsed. "i'm sorry, i just can't...never? not one time?"

"not once, tab. that's why it's complicated. in the moment, i didn't even think about that. i'd just let him take the lead because it made him feel good... i got to feel good too, so the idea of us not being equals didn't really click for me. it was...mindless, and i liked that until i didn't."

karasu brings one of his arms up, signaling for you to snuggle closer. he clutches you in a warm, protective grip, tenderly pressing his lips to your forehead. "i'm sorry. you don't deserve to be treated like that, ever. next time i see his ass, i’ll have him beggin’ for mercy.”

you chuckle, caressing his cheek with the back of your hand. "listen, there will be no more ass-kickings, okay? my heart can't take another one,” karasu playfully rolls his eyes at you, grumbling, “fineeee.”

“what makes you so curious? feeling a little jealous?”

“absolutely not. i just never thought him…capable of doin’ somethin’ for someone else. lo n behold, my suspicions are confirmed. mediocre as always.”

“mediocre for sure,” you bring karasu’s lips to yours, giving him a few smooches before continuing. “you kick his ass in sex and soccer and many other things, tab. i got what i deserved. he will too, and it'll kill him."

been sizzling this one for a few days 🫶🏽 i hope you enjoyed!

[highhhfiveee]

hello hello!

hi everyone. just here to say i'm thriving and feeling very connected to writing these days.

to all my safety net enjoyers, please please please remain patient (,: it's coming, i promise!!! since it's a more of an involved story and part six has a lot of content, it's taking a bit longer to craft, but i promise it'll be so worth it. as i keep mentioning, this is the climax!

don't give up on me, okay? <3

[highhhfiveee]

happy tuesday (: who do we want? fwb!sae itoshi!when do we want him? now! [been sitting on this one for a week or so!]

cw. angst, smut (face fucking [m!receiving, between fwb!sae x ryusei shidou <3….damn near a hate fuck], masturbation, multiple mentions of previous sexual encounters).

an. sae is crashing out!

1: x | 2: x | 2.5: x | 4: x

you’re standing on the corner outside of fwb!sae’s apartment building, wrapping your arms around yourself against the early afternoon wind, and all you can think about is how shitty you feel.

there aren’t many people dotting the streets, and you’re thankful for that as your eyes fog up with tears.

sure, sae had never been a ray of sunshine. he was the final boss of nonchalance, and while you’d known that, you’d never expected him to treat you so flippantly.

you’d been caught up in lust, the strong chemical reaction between your bodies leading to flutters in your abdomen that only felt like romance. it was a mirage, some kind of pre-orgasm haze where you’d believed that something like that would work.

you’d began messing around with sae for the sole reason that you didn’t want the rigidity of a relationship. you’d rejected tradition in favor for freedom, exploration, fun.

this? this moment? this feeling? this…nagging worry about the future of your relationship with sae? that wasn’t fun.

it stung like a rubber band snapped against skin, sharp at the area of impact with a dull ache making its appearance soon after.

you’re tired. the uber finally arrives, a spacious SUV with a driver that doesn’t mind a lack of conversation. you stare out the window, allowing yourself an attempt to overwrite all memories of sae itoshi with bleeding frames of trees, buildings, and street lights.

you throw yourself onto your bed when you’re finally home, spending the next half hour checking your phone for a text from sae. you’ll take anything, but at the very least, you’re expecting him to ask if you made it home safe.

nothing.

even after a long, sob-filled shower, takeout food, and one shitty romantic dramedy, nothing.

you’re still obsessing over him at midnight, huffing and screaming and shoving your phone under your pillow when you’re disappointed for the millionth time that day.

sae wants you to hurt, you think. he wants to hurt you as some sort of sick, twisted punishment for letting yourself get too comfortable. you didn’t think him the type to do petty things like that, but did you ever really know him? if he could cast you aside that easily after having sex with you, why wouldn’t he be capable of something just as terrible? something worse?

no way he’d have this over you. dwelling over sae and his bullshit would only sink the knife deeper into your chest, and you didn’t deserve that kind of stress. if you weren’t in his head, he’d have no residence in yours either.

you’re staring up at your slow-moving ceiling fan when you feel your skull buzz. you dig out your phone with more haste than you’d like, feeling your skin flush with shame, but the sensation passes as you read over the notification on your screen.

the axis of sae’s world shifted.

the change in energy had begun when he left his house that day, catching every red light and finding himself stuck behind geriatric fucks on his way to practice. he’d never laid on the horn more in his life, and it had him walking into the training facility irritated and out of it.

there was this ache in his chest too, pestering him as he ran through drills and formations.

“heartburn?” shidou, despite all his ferocity, cocked a concerned eyebrow at the hand pressed into sae’s sternum. “gotta lay off the fried shit, bro.”

sae only nodded, returning back to his reps. he hadn’t even eaten; he’d been so fixated on fucking you seeing you earlier that he’d driven over on an empty stomach, set to grab something after your sesh.

he felt nauseous, his vision and brain unfocused as he forced himself through conditioning.

from then on, soccer had intentions to make an example out of him.

something that had been second nature, engrained into his DNA…strengthened with blood, sweat, and tears, was fighting against him in solidarity with you. he blew on the practice field, fucking up passes and moving with disgusting uncertainty.

the actual games were a slight improvement, though it’s nothing to write home about. he’s underperforming, and while he’s managing to tread the murky waters, he starts drowning himself looking for you in the crowd.

he’d been moving you progressively closer and closer to the sidelines as your relationship grew, more acclimated to your screeching cheers and full-body excitement. he could easily spot you in a sea of people, and your new habit of absence was jarring.

shidou is the first to notice. he was the only player on the U20 team that had been paying attention to the change in sae’s attitude. he’d watched in real time how sae perked up ever so slightly around you, stared at you like you were the next prize for him to win.

shidou knew that you’d charmed him with your pussy personality, and while he’d stayed quiet regarding you before, he couldn’t help but prod at sae now that you were off duty.

wiping sweat from his brow, he stops sae with a hand on the shoulder before a restart. “where’s your cheerleader?”

it takes everything in sae not to bite the smug grin off shidou’s fucking face, but he keeps his composure, muttering, “i dunno. maybe she’s sick.”

it’s a half truth, but only because sae doesn’t actually know. you two haven’t spoken in almost three months.

he’d wanted to give you space. that was always a good thing, right? in his mind, he’d already said enough, and if you wanted to talk to him, you could.

sae brushed off the first few weeks of nothing, though his mind began to break at month one. you were still posting on your stories and talking to other people, just not to him.

at a month and a half in, he finally surrendered and sent you a DM; hey y/n, are we okay?

you didn’t even read it.

he’d lost you, and he hated how much it fucking bothered him. it wasn’t supposed to; he remembered what he’d told himself. he wouldn’t care if he was no longer what you wanted and you went to go find it, yet, here he was, gnawing at his nails and ripping his hair out wondering what you were up to.

through months two and three, he’d become a more extreme version of his former self; closed-off and bitter towards anyone that crossed his path.

the poisonous feeling of your rejection was an aura that radiated off of him like body odor, and shidou takes advantage of that.

he convinces himself that he’s only trying to fire sae up, get his ego pumping so that he can dominate the field again. it’s for the good of the team and sae’s soccer career, surely. there are absolutely no personal feelings involved! <3

there’s a mention for every time you’re AWOL, and the turmoil that it brings sae gets shidou to the edge every time.

“missing your good luck charm?”

”can’t play without pussy, huh, itoshi?”

“you must’ve fucked up big time.”

it’s a long three months, leading up to blue lock vs the U20s.

“oh, she’s baaaaaaack,” shidou sings, cackling at sae almost snapping his neck to find you. he’s about to beat the shit out of shidou for playing around when he feels his strong hands grasp his shoulders, turning him to the opposite side of the stands.

he eyes you in a second, almost cracking a smile at getting to see you again. your beauty is never wholly captured through a phone camera, and seeing you in person again is enough to make sae shed a single tear, but you’re not there for him.

you’re wearing a blue lock jersey, clustered up with a bunch of groupies screaming out for tabito karasu.

no fucking way.

it gets a sour laugh out of sae, who knows you see him too. you’re just avoiding eye contact, keeping your stare honed in on karasu and isagi and sae’s lukewarm brother.

karasu’s groupies manage to get his attention, and he turns to revel in it, throwing a wink into the crowd. there are squeals of exhilaration, high-pitched voices arguing over who he’d done it to, but to sae, it’s clear as day.

you’re not sly at all with the sheepish way you sink into your seat, covering your blushed cheeks with the thick scarf hanging around your neck.

“get the fuck off of me,” sae swears, throwing shidou back as he stomps away from the scene.

he doesn’t care.

anything past friends with benefits would’ve been disastrous for the both of you.

he doesn’t need you.

he’s still thinking that after the U20s lose, stalking away from the field before the timer even goes off. he’s not feeling like much of a good sportsman, the image of choking karasu with the blue and white confetti blanketing the field blazing bright behind his eyes.

going to the locker room is best, the least violent option for everyone involved.

“yo, itoshi,” sae’s not sure how long he’s been letting himself suffocate under the sharp stream of water, failing to address shidou. “want some company?”

it’s not the first time they’ve been here, post-game with a cocktail of mania and exhaustion coursing through their veins. there’s a need for release, even more so in this moment.

sometimes it’s more innocent; the literal scrubbing of each other’s backs, a massage here or there, but when it’s not, it’s not.

sae had considered shidou as your replacement, though he was so different from you that it would quite literally be unbearable. yeah, sae could stand a bit of his brattiness as their groins collided, cocks sliding against each other with ease, or shidou’s insistence to always make sae come first when they’re jerking each other off, but he wasn’t like you.

he wasn’t soft, or patient enough to withstand sae’s shortcomings. he was messy and crude and annoying, and sae couldn’t live with that.

you had been his friend before anything, and sae refused to give shidou such a distinguished title.

he lets shidou in his stall nonetheless, motioning for him to drop to his knees.

“i’m not her, you know,” he gripes with an eye roll, obeying despite himself. “you’re not gonna boss me around.”

sae ignores him, grabbing a handful of his hair in one hand and the base of his cock with the other.

“if you’re looking to replace her, i’m not the one.”

“god, dude, shut the fuck up,” sae groans, stuffing shidou’s mouth full. he relishes in the tight feeling of his throat contracting at the sudden intrusion, holding him there until he’s satisfied. “you piss me the fuck off.”

their session is mean and impolite this time around, with shidou only allowed to let out gags and chokes and globs of drool. sae refuses to let up, fucking his teammate’s skull into the steamy, slick tile wall of the shower stall.

“i wouldn’t want to replace her with you anyway, dipshit. you fucking suck,” sae spits, slipping out of shidou’s mouth and stroking his cock until his balls are lurching and his come is leaving its mark all over shidou’s wrecked face, topped off with an intentional spray of come to the eye.

shidou launches to his feet with a steady stream of raspy expletives, elbowing sae in the ribs. he rinses his face off, paying extra attention to his stinging right eye. “you’re a piece of shit, itoshi.”

“pot, kettle.”

sae’s next try at a replacement is his own hand.

it doesn’t feel as good as when he’s nestled deep in your cunt, watching your eyes glass over and teeth dig into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. you’re always so warm and so tight, clenching down on his cock every time his hips move.

his hand feels nothing like that. even with a solid effort, squeezing at the tip on each stroke and slathering himself in enough come-colored lube to trick himself into thinking that it’s you creaming all over him, it doesn’t work.

you’re not physically there and he likes to see you, likes to feel you. he wants to feel your skin on his, the sensation of your walls trapping his cock inside while you come for him, the trembling of your body reverberating all the way to his spine. he wants to see your pretty fucking face twisting at how good he makes you feel.

he’d been looking at the picture of you in his jersey for the last twenty minutes, but it was getting him nowhere. he hadn’t masturbated in forever, so used to you being there for his sexual pleasure.

nothing could compare to you. he was such an idiot.

he gives himself a few more lazy strokes before letting out an irritable sigh and giving up, wiping his gross, lubed-up hand on his comforter.

his ruined orgasm clouds his brain, and he’s grabbing his phone to watch your story. he knows you see him, watching and engaging with everything you post.

the only thing you have up now is from an hour ago; it’s a video of you at a party, screaming over the sounds of knocking bass and drunk laughter.

“tab, c’mereeeeee,” you mewl, angling the camera to perfectly capture karasu’s arms wrapping around your waist and his head tucking itself into the crook of your neck. “i’m here…with a winner, everyone…”

you giggle as his teeth bare themselves, nipping at your skin and causing you to moan. “hey, hey, not on camera!”

the video ends with you tilting his head up to be level with yours, leaning forward to give him a sloppy peck on the lips.

sae’s not sure when he’d thrown clothes on, or gotten in the car, or started driving to wherever the fuck you are. he’s just angry and wrangling with the unfortunate truth:

there was nothing that could replace you, but you’d done a fine job replacing him.

tabito karasu. sae would kill that motherfucker.

i hope you all enjoyed this! i love writing sluts <3

[highhhfiveee]

need to be sinking down on and stretching out around it

[highhhfiveee]

underkissed and underfucked might as well just go and dig myself a grave

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a world without trans people has never existed and never will

prints

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ACT UP, 1990

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i’m sorry to all of the lovely folks that love my fnaf fics, i’ve been focusing on writing bllk stuff BUT you’re getting a LONG, DETAILED GOLDMINE with the rest of safety net so i hope i’m forgiven!!!

[highhhfiveee]

happy thursday <3 thinking about you know who…

cw. suggestiveness, no smut. this part is purely context to y/n and sae’s relationship 🫶🏽 if there are errors, i apologize 💔

this is technically supposed to be read after these two: 1 & 2 | formal part three: x

meeting at the grocery store had been something neither you nor fwb!sae itoshi had seen coming. you’d played it all wrong, leaving you with enough awkwardness to last a lifetime, yet the opportunity hadn’t passed you by. with the ball in sae’s court, he’d expertly juggled and turned your flustered stammering into an instant connection.

the foundation of that connection had been mutual attraction, though you’d made it known to sae (and yourself) that you weren’t easy. there would be no hopping into bed immediately after you both checked out; you needed to get a feel for this mysterious dairy aisle guy who’d confidently invited a complete stranger to watch him play soccer.

you weren’t a sports person, but you began to understand the hype; the raw electricity floating in the air had your adrenaline flowing, leaving you completely engrossed from beginning to end.

sae was a god; nothing could’ve prepared you that first time you saw him play, running game on the opposing blue lock eleven.

it was a dance that only he knew, his steps a mindfuck to anyone forced to face him. he left those with two left feet in his wake, lowly shadows scattered behind the MVP plastered all over the jumbotron.

you hadn’t stayed back to see him after that first game, eager to beat the traffic leaving the stadium.

you’d heard your phone ping at a red light, reading the text you’d gotten from sae: you still here?

no ): i didn’t want to be stuck in traffic

…

i wanted to see you

your heart had lurched like your car when you slammed on your brakes, and in classic y/n fashion, you’re trying to find the right words to say.

oh…really?

my bad, i thought maybe you’d be too busy for me after

so it wasn’t bc of traffic?

“fuck.” you’d swore into the air, biting at your thumbnail as you tossed your phone into the passenger seat and continued on your way home, leaving sae on read.

both are true

…come down to the pitch next time, yeah?

at least say bye

from then on, you were elbowing your way through the crowds to get onto the turf, overwhelming sae with your zeal. you were jumping in his face, squeezing him with your hugs and spewing out soccer terms that you’d tried to learn and contextualize.

“that was a sick feint!”

“a triple nutmeg????”

“the spin on that ball was atrociously good…”

sae sort’ve hated that he’d cracked a smile, let it travel to his insides, and produce a laugh.

he’d never been the best at making friends, and was surprised that you’d stuck around at all, unfazed by his blasé attitude and lack of interest in most things outside of his own career.

you were no longer the girl he’d met in the store. you’d blossomed into this light, a beacon of all the things sae kept himself away from and yet, you never let him dim you.

he’d asked for your number on a whim, really, ready for you to leave him to his cream cheese search, but after texting with you, watching you run up to him from the sidelines, and hearing you cheer his name, he wanted you to stick around.

he took you to some bars first, always ready to wash away the stress of a game with an ice cold pint. you only ever ordered whiskey and cokes, an unexpected happening to sae. eyeing you and your deep purple faux fur jacket, your knee-high boots and your face made up and pretty as always, he’d admitted, “i thought you’d order something girlier.”

“i drink to drink,” you’d slurred, struggling to catch the straw of your third drink between your glossy lips. “i’d look just as good sipping an appletini as i do downing this jack n coke...” you’d hiccuped before blurting, “i could say the same though. i’d thought you’d order something manlier.”

sae rolled his eyes, dragging his finger around the rim of his half-empty mug. “i like beer.”

“and i like whiskey. bottoms up, babe.”

after a few months of bars, he’d started asking you to dinner.

what if we got mexican food after the game tomorrow

will your body recover

or are you gonna be shitting up a storm

that’s gross y/n

these are questions that friends ask!!!!

you’d tried to drink a beer that night, scowling at the taste but tolerating it for sae’s sake. “you know you can drink something else, right?”

he’d said it after watching you gag and shiver for the nth time, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his seat, his legs spreading under the table.

“i’m trying to be a good sport.”

“y/n….”

“okay, fine,” you’d been prepared to argue back, but his eyes, always so fucking blue and static, made you uneasy. he was watching you, almost daring you to give him lip.

there had been moments in your bar days where you’d felt yourself pulse at the sound of his short, dry laughs, the timbre of his voice as he spoke, even when a hint of a smile crept onto his face. you’d chalked it up to the alcohol, as it always left you feral and in heat, though you couldn’t use that as an excuse now.

you’d only had half a beer, and that would never be enough to knock you on your ass and have you imagining x-rated scenarios with the one and only sae itoshi…right?

you and sae had learned a lot about each other over those months. it was an effortless friendship, a connection where you felt seen and heard and respected enough to delve into the recesses of your lore. sae had done the same, something so out of character for him. you could tell that he was uncomfortable in the beginning, getting into tales of him and his brother, his time in spain…but, eventually he’d become an (almost) open book. he trusted you. he knew he was safe in your company, free to feel and express and….

“a signed sae itoshi jersey?” you’d squealed when he’d given it to you in his car after dinner at a fancy mediterranean place. “for me?”

“who else would it be for?” he’d deadpanned, but you’d swatted at his arm, huffing, “my god, take a joke, itoshi…” you’d started giggling, turning your eyes back to the white and red jersey. you let your fingertips glide over the fabric, enamored by its quality and the fact that he’d given it to you as a gift.

“thank you, i can’t wait to wear it,” you’d mused, leaning over the car’s center console to give sae a kiss on the cheek. your lip gloss left a mark on his reddening skin, and you’d blurted, “whoops” as you brought your hand up to wipe it. he’d stopped you with his fingers around your wrist, saying, “leave it.”

it was barely above a whisper, so not like him. you’d both been flushed red the entire trip to your house, departing on a somewhat awkward exchange of “see you later/bye”.

that same night, after a shower, you were on the couch when your phone chimed.

you try the jersey on yet?

mhm! i’m wearing it right now (: super comfy

show me

the words had sent you into near cardiac arrest. if his whispered “leave it” had been anti-sae, “show me” was him personified. blunt, to the point, demanding, dominant.

you did as you were told, strolling over to your full length mirror and snapping two photos of yourself, immediately sending them and throwing your phone across the room.

sae felt his phone buzz, but kept himself in suspense for a moment. the “show me” hadn’t been his first choice of response, but felt the most authentic.

he wanted to see you, plain and simple.

he wasn’t sure why his heart had begun to pound as he looked at your attachments.

it was a bit shadowy in your place, but the warm white light from your huge lamp cast you in an angelic glow, the crisp white of the garment popping against your creamy brown skin. you filled it out well, leaving little room for it to billow, and the hem skirted the top of your thighs. sae could see the black lace of your panties peek ever so slightly, but swiped to the second picture for an almost full-reveal.

you’d used the back camera for the first one but the front for the second, and the angle of your arm holding the phone pulled the jersey up past your ass a bit. it was round and perfectly shaped, striped with light stretchmarks and sae’s mind got a bit carried away…

he wanted to fuck you in his jersey.

he wanted to fuck you in general. you’d wanted to fuck him too; you both knew what you craved, but you’d wanted a foundation first. sae respected that, and though he would’ve fucked you without knowing your middle name and favorite book series, he thought the familiarity was nice.

had you two built a strong foundation?

sae loved an image

sae loved an image

we should go back to my place after my next game

yeah, i agree

you’d both say the answer was yes.

chat did i cook

[highhhfiveee]

"you don't post your dead dove fics on anon?" no, all of my dead dove, dirty, disgusting gay smut are posted on my main. I have no shame. normalize a girl being a pervert and a sex-crazed freak

[highhhfiveee]

trans women belong in women’s spaces. women’s spaces are made better by the presence of trans women.

[highhhfiveee]

back at work n you know what that means…

cw. angst! sae is kind of a dick [,: black!fem!readeroc as always <3

an. i’ve been thinking more and more about fwb!sae itoshi…like i triggered a maladaptive daydream so vivid that i’m trapped LMAO. that (n weed) gets me through 💜

part one: 📌 | part “three”: 📌 but anyway, anyway. picking up from where we left off:

you’re disoriented, pushing yourself up on your elbows while sae disappears into the bathroom, leaving you to your own sore muscles and aching heart.

your usual sae-induced, post-hookup bliss is completely replaced with the acidic bite of regret, and you try to stop the tears stinging your eyes as you pad to the bathroom door.

sae opens up after hearing your timid knock, giving you a blank stare with his toothbrush tucked beneath his tongue. you don’t allow yourself the usual distraction of glancing to his v-line, exposed above the waistline of his sweatpants. he doesn’t deserve the ogling.

you try not to come off so small and wounded, standing there with your legs twisted together and your eye makeup smudged all down your cheeks, gnawing at the skin inside with a punishing grind of your molars. you fail.

of the million things you’re thinking, you say none of them.

“what, y/n?”

he strides back over to the sink after giving you an opportunity to speak, scrubbing and gargling and spitting.

“….a-are you…gonna give me a ride home?”

“can’t,” sae breathes simply, slipping past you like you’re not even there. he’s the opposite of you, annoyingly flippant. “i’m already running late.”

“b-b-but…you always do,” your voice cracks on ‘always’, stopping you from saying anything further. it’s pathetic that you’re this affected by the situation…by him.

it was true, though. it’d become part of the routine for him to take you home after, engaging in casual conversations like he hadn’t fucked you senseless half an hour ago. he’d wait until you got up to your door, waving you off, and text you when he made it back home, a simple made it.

you’d give it a heart reaction, and that’d be the end of the connection until its next iteration. it was always smooth and comforting, a cherry on top of your indulgent relationship.

now, you feel like maybe you’d soured it all.

obviously, you’d felt an attraction to sae from the very beginning; you’d embarrassed yourself in that grocery store, so badly that he’d read you like a book and took the lead, but that physical attraction was never supposed to turn into emotional attachment.

it was friends with benefits rule number one, and you’d foolishly let yourself break it with one dick-drunk plea.

“well, i can’t this time.” he hasn’t been looking at you, keeping busy by slipping into his practice uniform and shoving things into his duffle bag.

you bite your lip, chirping out, “c’mon, sae…”

“y/n, please,” sae acknowledges you wholly now, agitation bleeding through his body language and the tone of his voice. “you’re being needy as shit. i already told you i can’t take you home this time, so stop asking.”

you’re crumbling to tiny pieces as he continues on, refusing to give you time to argue or fuss or cry. “i’ll get you a ride, and i’ll send you money for a plan b or whatever. just…fucking stop.”

you leave him to himself, hiccuping out sobs while you shower and slip back into your rumpled camisole and skirt. the juxtaposition of your internal feelings and cool girl outfit have you wanting to cover up and hide, so you grab a hoodie from sae’s floor and throw it over your shoulders.

he almost tells you to take it off but holds back, sitting on the edge of his bed and scrolling through his phone instead. the faster he arranges your ride, the faster he can go to practice and forget about all of this.

he swears he doesn’t feel the same as you, crushed and deflated by the turn of events, but there’s something that nags him about it all.

he shouldn’t have come in you. he should’ve pulled out and left it at that. given you something you expected instead of half-heartedly giving you what you wished for. it was a foolish mistake, engineered by his body for his pleasure, but of course there were always strings, invisible reverberations for every action you took.

he’s not in love with you. he’s sure of that. he barely loved his own brother, the piece of shit. he wasn’t made of love; he was made of a passion for soccer and soccer only. thinking you could take that spot was an error on your part, and it (almost) made him pity you.

“i think i’m gonna head out,” he announces coolly, gripping the handles of his duffle bag with a white-knuckled grip. “your ride’ll be here in like five. you can leave the key under the mat when you go.”

again, he doesn’t give you a moment to respond. he only makes his getaway, leaving you alone in a room that feels like a prison now.

if you wanted to fall in love, have all those corny, juvenile romantic moments, fuck it. go do it. see if he cared. sae didn’t give a shit what you did outside of him. he’d just move onto the next.

he’d done this friends with benefits thing so many times…you were only one person in a long list of others that had come and gone.

if he loses you, he’s confident he could find a suitable replacement…maybe.

something is in the air at my job cause i always get inspired once i clock in lmaooo. i got inspo for the next part too and oooh weee 🤭🤭

[highhhfiveee]

shut up i’m busy having a fake relationship with a fictional character right now

[highhhfiveee]

it’s early morning n i’m at work which means i’d like to escape ☝🏽 [EDIT: i began this at 9 am and it’s now 2:35. customers getting in the way of my budding fiction career!]

cw. smut! minors…if i catch you…

‘company’ by tinashe played on my ride and i was like hmmmm…fwb!sae itoshi?

originally, i thought that sae would be pushing to make things official, but nah. he’s definitely not the type. as corny as it is, his only serious relationship is with soccer. anything outside of that is a fling, just something fun to keep him satisfied between all the stress.

you, on the hand, want him so bad. you’d met him in the dairy aisle of the grocery store, poking him and asking if he could grab a tub of butter down from the top shelf.

he’d done it with no hesitation, but also no enthusiasm. he’d just held it out to you, his eyes scanning over the prices of cheese. your own eyes are trained on him, taking in his ever-present stoic nature and his damp, post-training hair, pushed off his forehead with a headband.

he gave you a peripheral glance, causing you to scramble and ask for another tub of butter…and two bags of cheese.

“anything else?”

he found your flushed cheeks amusing, though he’d never reveal that to you. he was used to this kind of attention from men, women, everyone in between. he’d reached into his playbook, offering, “give me your number and i’ll invite you to a game.”

you’d left the store that day with unnecessary dairy and millions of butterflies in your stomach.

you weren’t a soccer fan really, but you found yourself at every one of his home games, cheering until you lost your voice and could barely make it onto the pitch to give him a hug.

things go on like this for some time; you go to his games and he takes you somewhere after to celebrate. it could be dinner or a bar or even…his apartment, which he brings you to only a few months into your friendship.

after a big win, he’s popping the cork on some champagne and keeping you endlessly refreshed, giggly and bleary-eyed and prettier than he remembers. his eyes bore into you, the tension between your beings a crack of lightning in his dim, well-kept living room.

you’re splayed across his couch, your skirt sliding up your tingly thighs as you rub them together and he thinks, “it’s what a winner deserves.”

he deserves pleasure after pressure, and he’s not oblivious to the way you’ve been eyeing him, biting at your lip and laughing at everything he says like he’s a standup comedian. it’s flattering to a point, almost desperate.

everything happens so quickly, but you don’t mind the whirlwind as it lands you in his bed, pressing the tips of your manicured fingers into his toned abdomen as he gives you thrusts that have you mumbling for a break.

“i know you’ve been wanting this. do you really want to stop?” you hate that your heart explodes at his words, your eyes springing a leak as he grinds your pelvises together, moving one of his hands from your waist to your throat.

the soft, albeit deep, missionary position turns into a deeper mating press, your nails leaving crescents in sae’s pale shoulder blades as you beg him to let you release.

“keep begging and i just might let you…only obedient sluts get to come on my dick.”

he can barely even feel his dick with how wet you are, your equally as soaked face twisting and turning and blushing at his attitude. his arrogance, a turn off on anyone else, always left you reeling. it shouldn’t have sent shockwaves to your core or a tremor through your heart, the way he treated you.

he made you feel like a fan, like every one of your hookups was a meet n greet…

see him, fuck him, leave him. let him, the world class sae itoshi, have his way with you.

let him eat your pussy from behind, gripping your hips and bringing them back against his tongue as it dips into your hole and pulls forward endless streams of come.

let him take a handful of your hair in his hand, pushing your head down until his pubes are tickling your nostrils and your brown lipgloss is smeared all over his thighs, a groan falling from his lips as your throat contracts around his mushroom tip.

hell, let him manhandle you into reverse cowgirl, snapping his groin into you with that same fucking stoic expression, as you wrinkle his sheets between your fingers and cry out a lovesick plea. “oh, sae, p-please come in me.”

you’re not able to catch the way one side of his mouth ticks up, arrogant and shit-eating as it always was. “what’s that?”

his movements slow ever so slightly, allowing you to feel every painstakingly hard inch of him. he’s giving you a way out…kind of. wants to see if you’re serious or just fucked out.

“come in me, please.” you think, just maybe, finishing inside will bridge the gap. he’ll be yours as you feel his load leak out of you, clenching your hole around nothing so that he’ll fuck you again with the same outcome. “i want it so bad.”

he knows what you want. he knows that his come is symbolic of something else, and while he’ll provide you with the physical, he’s in no position to give you the emotional.

your toes curl against his waist as he throbs inside of you, spraying your walls with what should be his love. it should make him pull you up to him and and brush your sweaty curls away from your temples, but it doesn’t.

he only pushes you away from him, sending you face first into his mattress. “you should clean yourself up. i’ve got practice in an hour.”

pt 2: 📌

help, i need to be fucked sideways.

[highhhfiveee]