itosheye

[itosheye]

i have never clicked on something faster than this post

isagi as an asmr camboy ౨ৎ | 18+, mdni

camboy!isagi's post came up on your suggested on when you were scrolling on twitter one day. the post blabbed about how he had just gotten some new soccer trinkets, which you skimmed over, and instead, you clicked the link to his twitch without thinking much about it, knowing that you've always liked to watch asmr so this could be relaxing to listen to, right? wrong.

camboy!isagi's bulge was staring right at you after the stream loaded. he had on a white football jersey, but it was hiked up, showing off a bit of his abs. your breath caught in your throat, face going red with the realization of what you were looking at. it was quiet for a few moments on his end, but the chat pinged endlessly, telling him to take his pants off. you were about to click off, not wanting to get yourself caught up in some kind of porn stream, but then he spoke.

camboy!isagi's voice rang through your headphones, "want 'em off, huh? tell me how bad." his tone was soft and whispered, alluring you. you could already feel your arousal pooling in your panties from just his voice, causing you to close your thighs together on instinct. your hand lay frozen on your trackpad with your breath caught in your throat as isagi's left hand fidgeted with the drawstrings of his grey sweats, twirling them around his pointer finger while the other continued to hike his jersey up. isagi's hand then snaked underneath his sweatpants, palming himself through his boxers, panning the camera down so that you could only see from his thighs to his neck, giving his viewers a better view of him.

camboy!isagi whispers into his mic, "a-ah—look what y'guys have done to me now…" his tone instantly sending shivers down your spine, causing you to clench your thighs together harder, trying to avoid what you were feeling, but at the same time, wanting to watch more. with the help of the twitch chat and a few donations, isagi shoves his sweats and boxers down to his mid-thighs, freeing his hard cock, the tip flushed and leaking. you didn't notice your own hand moving until it was already buried underneath your panties, your middle finger swiping through your soaked folds. "g'na stroke it f'all you…" isagi whispers, his left hand finding the base of his cock, giving a few silent pumps before letting out a strangled moan. "sorry... that was a bit loud, yeah?" he whispers, starting to moan a bit quieter now.

camboy!isagi's twitch chat runs a mile a minute, users fawning and screaming, all of them telling him to go faster. he complies somewhat shyly, not wanting to disappoint his fans in the chat, and starts to stroke himself faster. "w'na watch me cum all over my hand?" isagi asks in a whisper again, letting out pants and quiet mewls into the mic. your mouth hangs open as you watch isagi fuck into his fist, your own hand speeding up as you pump two fingers inside your needy pussy to match his speed. your legs are pushed apart on your bed, your laptop in between them, not giving yourself freedom to close your legs as you continue the assault on your abused cunt.

camboy!isagi whispers lowly into his mic, "c-cum for me—fuckk… gush all over my damn cock baby." and its not long until you feel that familiar tightening in your abdomen, both your hands prodding at your slicked pussy as you get close. so so close. as if he's read your body and mind, whining and whimpering as his shoulders and abs tense up, his dick twitching within his grasp, signaling that he's about to cum too. "c'mon you can do it, be a good girl f'me—ahhh.." isagi whines into the mic, and the second you register his words, you're cumming all over your fingers, shoving them deep inside you and curling them against that sweet spot over n over.

camboy!isagi cums all over his fist, thighs, and abs not long after you do, his moans broken and breathy, not all quiet anymore. the twitch chat doesn't stop even for a second, hundreds of donations and new follows popping up on the screen of his stream, all praising and cheering for him. "got all loud again, sorry..." isagi gives a soft, sheepish chuckle, a flush spreading down his neck all the way down to his thighs, a light sheen of sweat covering his torso. "thank you guys for the stream, see you all tomorrow?" he whispers into the mic once more before the screen changes to black, displaying small text of thank you for watching. you sit there, panting and head spinning, too tired to judge yourself for what you had just done but you find the last bit of strength in your arms to turn on notifications for the next stream.

© maisoll | don't copy, steal, or translate any of my work.

first post, eek! pt 2?

[itosheye]

i think i just cried a whole ocean wtf

♡ ghost of you ──

જ⁀➴ a sae itoshi oneshot. 5.1k words

warning: contains elements like grief, loss, trauma, miscarriage, and more. recommended for 18+. if you feel uncomfortable, please read away — not for the lighthearted

synopsis: in which sae itoshi is haunted not by loss, but by erasure—forced to remember a girl the universe has already decided he doesn’t deserve to keep.

instead of dying in a single moment, you begin to disappear from sae’s life slowly, piece by piece,

at first, your texts go unanswered. then your voice fades from the voicemails. photos lose your face. his memories blur—what color your eyes were, how your laughter sounded, the way you said his name—until all that’s left is an aching void where you once lived.

it’s not death.

it’s erasure.

and sae is the only one who remembers you.

he tries to chase the truth—desperate, furious, breaking—but no one believes you ever existed. not rin. not your friends. not even your name brings results when searched.

but somewhere in his apartment, under a loose floorboard, he finds a page—your handwriting.

“if one day you forget me, i hope it hurts. i hope you feel it in your bones.”

because it wasn’t the world that forgot you.

it was him.

and the universe is giving him what he deserves:

a lifetime remembering the girl he let fall apart while he was too proud to love you right.

it started with a silence,

not the kind sae liked—the comfortable, empty sort that filled his apartment after a long game, where nothing was expected and nothing was given. no, this was thick. unsettling. like the air had forgotten how to carry your voice.

he noticed it in the smallest way: a missing message.

you used to text him every time he flew out. just three words.

‘come back safe.’

simple. stupid. sweet. he never replied. didn’t need to. you always said you didn’t mind.

but this time, there was nothing.

he sat in the back of a black car rolling through tokyo rain, phone in hand, screen blank. no notification. no missed call. he scrolled through their thread—it was still there. he’d never deleted it, even after those fights, even after he told you to stop being “so fucking needy.”

he didn’t know what he expected.

maybe some part of him thought you’d be waiting when he walked into the flat. arms crossed, eyes wet, pretending you didn’t care even though you always did.

but when the lock clicked and the door creaked open, he stepped into darkness.

no light. no music.

your shoes weren’t by the door.

your coat was gone.

his throat tightened.

he checked every room like a man searching for a ghost—bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, terrace. empty. but clean. too clean. like you had been erased with intention.

he collapsed on the edge of the bed.

there was a note.

just a yellow sticky, clinging to the mirror like a dying leaf.

don’t come looking for me. i know you won’t anyway . i just needed you to know i waited. i waited as long as i could. —y/n

he stared at the writing until the letters blurred, the words twisting into shapes he no longer recognized. then, with a trembling hand, he tore the paper down and threw it into the trash. he told himself you’d be back. you always came back. you were just dramatic, just hurt, just trying to punish him for something you chose to feel.

but for the first time, a small, awful part of him whispered—

what if you don’t?

the next day, he called you.

voicemail.

he called again.

still nothing.

he texted.

no response.

he tried a third time, a fourth, until the line didn’t even ring anymore.

disconnected.

three days later, he called rin.

“hey, do you know where y/n is?”

there was a pause.

“who?”

“y/n.”

“i don’t know a y/n,” rin replied blankly.

“you met y/n three times, at least. you came to dinner with us. that café near shibuya—”

“i think you’re confusing me with someone else,” rin said. “you don’t… date.”

sae stared at the screen. the call ended. he checked his contacts. no y/n. searched for your number. blank.

your messages? gone.

photos? erased.

his camera roll was full of game highlights, food, old travel shots—but no trace of you.

his hands began to shake.

no. no, he knew you.

he remembered the way you used to hum while brushing your teeth. how you always chose the pink chopsticks even though you said they were “too childish.” how you cried when the two of you watched grave of the fireflies together and he pretended not to be watching you more than the movie.

he remembered the way you kissed him.

soft. careful. like he might break.

he remembered fighting with you in the kitchen—screaming things he didn’t mean, stonewalling you with that deadpan look.

he remembered everything.

so why couldn’t he find proof?

he grabbed his coat. tore through the apartment. overturned drawers. ripped open closets. scanned every dusty corner.

no clothes. no photos. no perfume.

only a single sock caught in the dryer.

pink.

with pink hydrangeas.

the only thing you left.

two weeks later, itoshi sae stopped sleeping.

he didn’t toss in bed or drift in and out of half-dreams; he simply didn’t lie down anymore. the mattress remained untouched; its sheets still folded from the last time you made the bed—the day before you disappeared. the couch became his orbit, the walls his confession booth, and the darkness his only witness. he stopped answering his phone, ignoring calls from his brother, his agent, and coaches screaming about his “unstable behavior.” they didn’t understand. no one did.

the first night, he just whispered your name into the silence.

y/n…

the second night, he shouted it.

“y/n. please. come back. i’ll do better. i swear to god, i’ll do better.”

the fifth night, he began hearing your voice — not memories, not echoes — but fresh. clear. like you were standing behind him, just out of reach.

“you never listened.”

he spun around. nothing.

he clawed at his scalp. punched the wall until his knuckles cracked open and bled down his wrists like penance.

he dug out the sweater you left behind — the one you used to wear when you curled up beside him, when your world still revolved around him. he held it to his face and screamed into it.

“i’m sorry.” the words were salt in his mouth.

“i know i was cruel. i know i shut you out. i thought that if i let you in, you’d see how hollow i really was. and you’d leave.”

he started laughing. it was high-pitched. borderline hysterical.

“but you left anyway, didn’t you? not because you stopped loving me, but because i never said it back. not when it mattered.”

he stood, stumbling into the kitchen. he pulled open the drawer, his hands trembling as they hovered over the knives. not yet.

instead, he staggered to the bathroom, stared at himself in the mirror until the world warped.

‘this is what you left’, he whispered.

a ghost in the shape of a man.

the tenth night, he wrapped your sweater around his face and pressed a pillow over it. laid on the floor. hands gripping tight.

he tried to suffocate himself with the last thing that smelled like you.

“let me go where you are”

he said it like a wish. like a secret. like a coward’s final prayer.

but his body betrayed him. his lungs gave in. he gasped, sobbing, choking on your name.

“i can’t live in a world where you don’t exist.”

he curled into himself. rocked back and forth like a child abandoned.

“i made you leave. i pushed until your heart had nowhere left to live.”

silence.

always silence.

he crawled to the box of memories you left behind. letters. photographs. the sock you used to wear on rainy days because he teased you for how mismatched it was.

he clutched it like a lifeline.

like a noose.

“i deserve this”, he whispered. “all of it. the silence. the emptiness. the never knowing.”

he tried to sleep for the first time that night on the cold tile. then, the dream came—but it was different this time. it didn’t begin with your presence; instead, it began with a smell.

sterile. metallic. cold.

he stood in their old apartment, but everything was… wrong. dim. silent. the air smelled like hospital sheets and dried blood.

the clock on the wall blinked 3:07 a.m., frozen.

then he heard it — the sound of something falling.

a glass? a bottle?

then a muffled gasp.

he followed it down the hall. each step grew heavier, like the floor was swallowing his feet.

when he reached the bathroom, the door was open just enough for him to see you — crumpled on the floor. blood soaked the back of your thighs.

your hands were trembling, red-stained. clutching her stomach like she could hold something in.

you were crying, but not loudly.

no. that would have been mercy.

you were sobbing into a towel, trying to muffle yourself. because he was asleep in the next room. because you didn’t want to bother him.

“it’s okay,” you whispered to yourself.

“it’s okay. it’s okay. i’ll clean it up. i’ll… i’ll fix it. he doesn’t need to know. he’s got practice.”

and then you vomited from the pain. he tried to move. to run to you. to scream. but he was locked in place. just a ghost in his own guilt.

then—flash. the scene shifted.

you were at the doctor’s office. alone. your hands were fidgeting with your sleeves. the nurse tried to hand you a clipboard, and your fingers were shaking too hard to hold the pen.

“is the father not coming?” the nurse asked gently.

you smiled, that brittle kind of smile that breaks you if you look too long.

“he’s busy,” you replied. “he… he has a match today.”

cut again.

now you were home. staring at the ultrasound photo on the kitchen counter. crumpled. useless now. you stared at it for a long time before finally whispering,

“i wanted to tell you so many times. you kept saying you weren’t ready. that love made you weak. that it was ‘bad timing.’”

you wiped your eyes and laughed—laughed, but it sounded like it hurt.

“so i waited for the right moment. i thought if i held onto it long enough, maybe you’d hold it with me.”

then you looked up—straight at him. even though it was a dream. even though it couldn’t be real.

“but you never even saw me, sae.”

the walls around them bled into another memory.

he was standing by the front door, duffel bag in hand. you held the miscarriage report like it weighed as much as a planet.

“i lost it,” you had said again. your voice didn’t even break this time.

he watched himself nod. not look at you. say nothing.

“i’m bleeding, sae.”

still nothing.

“i haven’t slept. i feel like i’m dying.”

silence.

“can’t you just—can’t you just hold me? for a second?”

then, dream-sae—the one who didn’t know what he was destroying—muttered,

“i can’t deal with this right now.”

you sat down on the floor like your knees gave out.

“okay,” you whispered. “okay.”

he watched himself leave. the door shut. and you curled into yourself like you wanted to disappear.

he curled into himself on the floor of the bathroom.

“i remember,” he whispered. “i remember it all.”

the tiles were cold against his cheek. his knuckles bled from punching the wall. he didn’t care.

he had no tears left. just the echo of a name. a name he’d never speak aloud again without it tasting like rust. for three nights, he didn’t sleep. he didn’t eat. he didn’t breathe properly.

because now, every time he closed his eyes…

he saw you in pain. on the floor. in a clinic. alone.

he saw the pieces of your life that he had stepped over like shattered glass. he had called it love—love—while you bled in silence and begged for warmth he never offered.

and now?

now all he had were the words he never said:

i’m sorry. i should’ve held you. i should’ve come home sooner. i should’ve asked. i should’ve listened. i should’ve stayed.

each sentence pressed into his skull like a branding iron. each breath a punishment.

then came the eleventh night.

he stood in front of the mirror and whispered, “she’s not gone.”

it wasn’t denial. it wasn’t hope.

it was certainty.

because someone like you couldn’t just vanish. not without the universe cracking in half.

“she didn’t disappear,” he said to the empty apartment. “i just wasn’t looking.”

so he started looking.

he tore his place apart first. found your old socks under the couch. one earring beneath the sink. a sticky note on the back of a photo frame that read:

‘buy toothpaste. and tell sae he’s being mean again.’

he stared at it until the ink blurred. then he went into the city. train stations. bakeries. bookstores. that little café near shibuya that you used to love — the one with the over-sweet pastries and piano music in the mornings. he asked every barista. showed them a photo. well, not a photo.

a drawing.

he drew your face from memory; dozens of versions. dozens of scraps. eventually one stuck, and he printed it—posted it on community boards.

missing person y/n. age 22. last seen in minato. please call if you’ve seen her. (favorite color is dusk.)

he didn’t list a phone number. just an email.

he couldn’t stomach the sound of a stranger’s voice asking, "was she yours?"

strangers gave him pitying looks.

a teenager asked if it was for a school project. a man in a suit told him it was unhealthy to hold onto “ghosts.”

but one old woman, pausing outside a shrine, read the paper and touched his arm.

“she must’ve really meant a lot to you.”

he nodded slowly—voice rough and hollow.

“she did.”

but the truth, the ugly, unforgivable truth, was that he hadn’t realized how much until the moment he lost you. and now?

he would scour every alley, every whisper, every corner of the city. because some part of him believed you were still there.

just around a corner. just beyond his reach.

and maybe, if he looked hard enough, broke himself open wide enough — he could finally say the words when it mattered.

a month later on, he visited a therapist.

they told him it might be stress. grief manifesting as delusion. a product of burnout.

“you travel a lot. your schedule is brutal. it’s not uncommon to invent comfort.”

“i didn’t invent her,” he snapped.

he stormed out.

but not before he saw it: a note tucked under his wallet when he got home. the handwriting was different. slanted, softer, familiar in a way that made his stomach drop.

your handwriting.

if one day you forget me, i hope it hurts. i hope you feel it in your bones.

he dropped the note like it burned him. and for the first time, he started to wonder—

maybe this wasn’t grief—maybe this was punishment after all.

sae stopped playing for a while.

he told his coach it was a groin injury—something about overextension and tight muscles. they nodded without question. after all, he was itoshi sae. no one dared to ask more. but the truth was far darker: every time he stepped onto the pitch, your voice haunted him.

“you always look loneliest right after you score.”

he’d never understood why you said that before. now, it carved through him like a knife. the field felt hollow, stripped of its noise and cheers, because you weren’t in the stands.

his life, too, was silent—except this silence was no longer peaceful, no longer a quiet refuge he craved. it was a low, constant hum of absence, a gnawing rot beneath every surface, spreading and eroding everything he once held dear.

that emptiness consumed him, spiraled into obsession. he scoured surveillance footage from convenience stores near their old apartment, scanning for any glimpse of you. he lurked through internet forums, desperate for a scrap of information. he tracked down the café manager you adored, asked for receipts, loyalty card points, your usual order.

the answers were always the same: apologetic, confused looks, and the words that tore at his sanity—

“no record of anyone named y/n.”“no one ever sat at that table for two.”

it was as if you had never existed. his mind frayed at the edges.

he wasn’t sure if he was losing himself—or if he had already vanished inside the shadows of his grief. he even tried to return to the national team as a distraction. he flew to the next friendly, stood stiffly in the tunnel while rin passed by with a cold, cutting nod.

“still chasing your imaginary girlfriend?”

rin spat, the bitterness in his voice like acid.

sae’s fists clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms.

“don’t say that,” he hissed, but rin didn’t relent.

“she never existed, nii-chan.”

sae’s voice cracked, a desperate tremor breaking through.

“she did. i laughed with her. i ate her cooking. i told her she was the only reason you weren’t completely insufferable.” rin’s eyes flickered with something close to pity.

rin’s eyes flickered with something close to pity.

“i think you need help.”

sae didn’t step onto the pitch that day.

one night, his phone rang.

unknown number.

he picked up, heart stuttering.

“hello?” static.

then—your voice.

“i kept trying, sae. i really did.”

his blood turned to ice.

“y/n?”

“but you were never really there.”

click. silence. he redialed again, heart pounding, but no answer came through the void. desperation drove him to check his call log—only to find no trace of the call, as if it had never happened. he replayed the moment over and over in his mind, until the memory stretched thin, fragile as a whisper on cracked glass, slipping further and further from reality.

then—three months in—he found it.

a floorboard in the bedroom was loose.

beneath it: a box.

not large. just enough to hide the things the world had forgotten.

inside had: – a necklace you used to wear. – a crumpled movie stub. – a polaroid of the two of you laughing on the balcony. – a note.

written in ink smudged with tears.

if you’re reading this, it means i finally did it. i finally left. i wanted to wait until you changed. but people don’t change unless they lose something they thought they could always take for granted. you always thought i’d be there. you said love made you soft, and you didn’t want to be soft. you wore your cruelty like armor. but i was never trying to break you. i was just trying to hold your hand. and you wouldn’t let me. so i made a deal. i asked the world to forget me… except for you. because i wanted you to feel it. the full weight of what you threw away. a thousand lifetimes of it. i hope you remember me even when no one else does. i hope i haunt you like your own name. and i hope, one day, when you reach for me in a dream—you wake up alone. goodbye, sae.

he didn’t cry. he just sat on the floor, shaking, for hours.

from then on, everything became about you—shadows lurking in every reflection, half-formed whispers chasing him through crowded streets, the faint, haunting scent of your conditioner clinging to the elevator air. sleep abandoned him completely. the nights stretched endlessly, hollow and cruel. doctors handed him sedatives with hopeful eyes, but he flushed each pill down the sink without a second thought. forgetting you would be mercy—and mercy was a grace he believed he had long since forfeited.

then he started writing letters. he wrote thousands of them;

in the dark,

in the silence, because silence was all he ever gave to you. he didn’t write for you as if you were still there, able to read his words and respond. instead, he wrote for your  ghost—the lingering presence that haunted every corner of his mind and heart.

dear y/n, you told me you were scared, and i told you to be quiet—like your fear was something i could simply ignore. you came to me crying, desperate for comfort, and i told you to wait until after training. i was cruel beyond words. that night, when you bled and whispered, “i think i lost it,” i asked if it was even mine. i’ll never forgive myself for that question. you begged me not to leave for spain, but i left you there—crying in the hallway, clutching the ultrasound photo—and i never once looked at it. you asked if i still loved you, and i called it childish. but the truth is, i did love you. i just couldn’t bring myself to say it. i heard you sobbing in the shower and turned the tv up louder to drown out your pain. you made dinner and waited for me, and i ate in silence without a single word of thanks. you reached for my hand in bed, and i flinched—not because i didn’t want you, but because i couldn’t bear the fact that you still wanted me. when you left, you didn’t slam doors or scream. you simply vanished—knowing i wouldn’t chase after you. i thought i had more time. i thought you’d wait. i thought love could survive neglect. but it can’t. you were real. i treated you like a shadow, like something that could be ignored and forgotten. if i had held your face that night you said you were tired—maybe you would’ve stayed. if i had said, “i’m scared too,” instead of, “you’re being dramatic”—maybe our baby would’ve had a name. i want to believe you’re out there somewhere. but deep down, i know you’re gone. the girl i loved would never have let go unless she had to. and i was the one who made her have to. i speak to your empty chair every night and say, “i miss you,” even though it means nothing now. i love you. i love you. i love you. i only wish i had said it while your hands were still warm.

he stopped writing only when the ink ran out. then he tried writing in blood.

one day, weighed down by everything he couldn’t undo, he found himself by the river—the very place you once whispered about:

“if i ever disappear, this is where i’d go. like fog over water.”

he stood there, watching the currents swallow the light, until night fell like a shroud around him.

clutching a white hydrangea.

then two.

then seven.

he dropped them into the river one by one.

he dropped the flowers into the river not because it eased the pain, but because the hurt was the only thing that still felt real, raw and undeniable in a world that had otherwise gone numb.

the third year was the cruelest.

sae moved through life like a ghost himself; playing games, giving interviews, signing jerseys, but none of it belonged to him anymore. his smiles were thin masks; his eyes held no warmth. every victory felt even emptier, every cheer a lie.

he carried a small box under his pillow, fragile proof of her existence. each night, he’d pull out the worn letter, trace the faded ink, memorize the trembling curve of her handwriting.

he used to cry. now, he only stared. hollow.

and then, on a rainy evening, as he walked through a quiet town far from tokyo, the rain was relentless, drowning the city in cold gray. sae barely noticed. his world had been drowning for years.

and then—

you were there.

not a dream. not a memory.

it was you.

you stood under a flickering streetlight, drenched and fragile, the groceries slipping from your hands.

his heart shattered in the silence before he called out your name.

“y/n.”

your eyes met his—empty, distant—but still you.

“you shouldn’t be here.” the words fell like knives.

“why not?” his voice cracked, desperate and raw. “why did you leave me? why did you disappear without a word?”

you shook your head, voice trembling.

“i didn’t leave. i was lost. i chose to vanish.”

“vanished? you think that makes this easier? you think i stopped searching? you think i stopped needing you?”

swallowing hard, you looked away.

“i wanted you to forget me. to move on. to heal.”

and suddenly, sae laughed—it was bitter, humorless.

“move on? heal? i’ve been bleeding, y/n. every day without you is a wound that won’t close.”

“i asked them. i begged them to erase me from your world.”

“who? who did this to you? tell me!”

shooking your head again, tears spilling down.

“some things are meant to stay buried.”

“don’t do this. don’t shut me out. i’m here. i’m broken—but i’m here.”

you took a step closer, voice cracking with sorrow.

“you were already gone when i left. you never saw me. not really.”

“i was scared,” he whispered. “scared that if i let you in, i’d lose myself. so i built walls. so high, you couldn’t climb.”

you looked at him—pain and love tangled in her gaze.

“and i waited. i waited for you to break them down. but you never did.”

his hands trembled as he reached for yours.

“i was a coward. i thought needing you made me weak. but i see now that without you, i was nothing.”

you squeezed his hand gently.

“love isn’t always enough, sae. sometimes, it’s the cruelest kind of poison.”

he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“i’d take that poison a thousand times if it meant holding you once more.”

your eyes searched his, filled with memories of a love that never got to bloom.

“do you know why i asked to be forgotten?”

he shook his head.

“because every time i looked at you, i saw the man you could be without me dragging you down.”

“i wanted to be better—for you. but i was too broken to try.”

“you broke me too,” she said softly.

he closed his eyes, the weight of those words crushing him.

“if i could rewrite everything, i would. i’d tell you i love you. i’d fight for you. i’d never let go.”

“but you didn’t—and now it’s too late.” you stepped back, voice barely a whisper.

“—goodbye, sae.”

he lunged forward, desperate.

“no! don’t leave me again. please.”

your figure blurred, fading like smoke in the storm.

he screamed your name until his throat bled, but only the rain answered. sae collapsed on the cold pavement, clutching the spot where you had stood—as if holding it could somehow bring you back. he screamed again, the sound raw and empty, echoing off the indifferent walls of the city.

but there was no reply. no figure rounding the corner. no warm hands never gonna pulling him up. just silence engulfing him—thick, suffocating, and endless.

when he returned home, drenched and shaking, he burned the box you had meant to left behind. all the memories he couldn’t bear—photos, letters, the hoodie that still smelled like your shampoo. he watched it all turn to ash, hoping the fire would consume the ache, the guilt, the impossible longing. but even as the last flame flickered out, the emptiness remained.

but he kept one thing. a single, soaked sock. pink hydrangeas — the last piece of what used to be a life shared.

no one knew the hollow man on the field.

no one understood the man who whispered to empty rooms.

every year, on a rainy november night, sae stood on that rooftop, staring at the city lights, whispering:

“come back to me.”

months later, sae vanished.

no goodbyes. no trace.

some say he’s still out there—chasing ghosts. others say he’s trapped on that rooftop, waiting for a love that was already gone.

and in the dark between heartbeats, the only truth left is the cruel weight of a love

that came too late.

“some ghosts don’t haunt from hate. they linger in silence. in love. a love too heavy to carry. a love lost before it could be found.”

જ⁀➴ © sevarchive ✦ masterlist ; like/reblogs are appreciated ꣑ৎ

[itosheye]

i busted a load

i need some pegging 🤗 specifically shidou and/ or sae

pegging sae because hes stressed and hear me out this hella relieves himm..

you roll your hips, fucking sae's slick hole with your long strap on slowly. every time you pull halfway out you slam back into him, earning a soft moan from the man below you. "feel better, sae?" you coo, holding his hips up- making him arch his pretty muscular back for you as you continue your ministrations, your left hand coming below to jerk his angry cock off, matching the pace as you pounded his hole, his ass jiggling every time you rammed your hips into him. and all he could do was whine- his face buried in the pillows, purely enjoying this.

© ryusdoll || do not plagiarize or translate my work in any shape or form.

okay this is very short but im just trying to write anything atp</3 i promise ill have an awesome comeback bc all my requests are so good rn

[itosheye]

idk if you’re taking requests if you aren’t just ignore this but could I possibly req shidou x inexperienced reader??

shidou and his virgin gf !! 🩷

see me, personally, i think shidou would go absolutely insane when he finds out you, his pretty little girlfriend, are a virgin!

"she's s'cute, sucking my fingers in." you don't know if he's talking to you, or your pussy squelching so loudly with the rough pace he has set.

he has been doing this for so long you feel like you're losing your mind. edging you, bringing you close just to rip it away in the meanest way, all when it's your first time! how rude can he be?

and even if you can't see his face, being too fucked-out to even do anything other than gripping his arm and hiding your face in his neck, you can tell he's enjoying himself more than you. i mean, he's so experienced! he's told you all about his previous girlfriends, but you never thought experiencing it would be so mind numbing.

and pleasuring his little inexperienced girlfriend is definitely his favourite memory of you, and probably the best thing that has ever happened to him.

he's pinching and rolling your sensitive clit continuously, teasing your nipples with the faintest grazes, and praising you at the same time, it's overstimulating :((

you swear you're gonna die, whining and whispering how you're "gonna cum..!" every time he does a specific circular motion inside you, and when he finally replaces his fingers with his cock - you really think you're not walking limping out of this alive.

he's absolutely huge, and you just stare at it like it hurt you - which it will. he assures you, saying "you can take it, pretty baby." but you think you're gonna get ripped in half.

needless to say, over the course of the next few days you had "fallen down some stairs" and had a limp.

a/n: he's so AUGBBBGH i feel like he'd be so cocky when saving hex with you for the first time #freak also i'm sorry i got lazy at the end...😓😓

@itosheye work. do not repost

[itosheye]

probably coming out tonight btw

continuing a request after weeks of putting it off bcs of my personal life.. returning to my j*b

[itosheye]

continuing a request after weeks of putting it off bcs of my personal life.. returning to my j*b

[itosheye]

m.list

- blue lock -

⸝⸝ s. itoshi

- subby, messy sae

⸝⸝ r. itoshi

- he's an even messier eater

⸝⸝ r. shidou

- you're his first virgin girlfriend

[itosheye]

mootie feed me more

social media chaos with rin after you rode him for the first time, 18+

you crawled into his lap with a small smile and lust glazing your eyes. nothing new. you’d done that a hundred times, while he was gaming, while he was watching film, after a long day. you’d settle over him, arms around his neck, lips on his ear. you’d grind a little, tease him until the control snapped and he took over. rough hands, harsh kisses, growled commands. always so controlled. always him in charge.

but tonight? you did something different. you kissed him soft. not needy. not hungry. but a slow, tender drag of your lips over his. and when he leaned in, expecting more, expecting the usual, you trailed kisses down to his neck instead. right over that spot where his pulse jumped when he was turned on. you smiled against his throat when you felt him swallow hard.

then you whispered, close and sweet, “don’t move. just sit there and be good for me.”

he blinked. you never said shit like that.

rin stiffened under you, breath catching. his brow twitched. his hands, which rested on your waist, twitched too, like they didn’t know whether to grip you or not. he opened his mouth to say something, but you touched his jaw, turned his face back toward you, and kissed him again meltingly deep. he whimpered against your tongue.

“you trust me, don’t you?” you whispered, pulling back just enough to see his eyes.

“y-yeah.”

good. because you planned to ruin him.

you straddled him properly then, settling into his lap like you were made to fit there. you wore nothing but his hoodie. it was big on you, skin-warm, and easy to push aside. your thighs caged him in, soft and strong, and when you started to move your hips in slow, lazy circles, rin let out the quietest gasp. you kissed him again. kissed him until his fingers dug into the couch cushion, until his back arched just slightly under you. his hands were trembling.

you whispered praise against his mouth. “you look so pretty like this.”

he groaned deep and low, trying to hold himself back. his head dropped against the couch, eyes fluttering shut as you kept rolling your hips against his lap. you could feel him hard already, pressing up into your heat, straining against the fabric separating you. and still, he didn’t move.

“you’re being so good,” you said softly. “just let me take care of you, rin.”

he opened his eyes again, dazed and dark, and watched as your hand reached back between your bodies. you made sure he was watching when you tugged your panties to the side and pulled him free. the moment your fingers wrapped around him, his whole body jolted like he’d been electrocuted. his hips tried to lift, but you pressed your weight down, keeping him exactly where you wanted him.

“stay still,” you murmured. “you don’t need to do anything.”

and then you torturously slow sank down onto him. his head hit the back of the couch with a choked cry, eyes blown wide, jaw slack as you took him inch by inch. you moved with total control, tightening around him as you finally settled all the way down in his lap.

“f-fuck—” rin’s voice cracked. “oh my god—baby—”

you rolled your hips once, long and deep, and watched his entire face crumble. you kept it that way, kept the slow, steady, deliberate rhythm. your palms rested on his chest, fingers dragging across his skin beneath his shirt. you worked him open and vulnerable, grinding down in soft, messy waves that left him breathless.

“please,” he whispered, hands flexing uselessly beside him.

“for what?” you asked, all honey. “you don’t usually beg, rin.”

he tried to thrust up into you. you pushed him back down again, palms firm on his shoulders. he groaned like it hurt. like it was too good. like he didn’t know how to survive it.

“i-i can’t… i can’t think when you’re like this…”

“good,” you purred, leaning in close. “don’t think. just take it.”

and he did. you rode him slow, dragging every sound out of him. he babbled your name, voice shaking, eyes wet with pleasure too big to contain. his thighs were trembling under you. his lips parted in gasps and broken moans. one hand found your waist. the other fisted the couch like it was the only thing keeping him from floating away.

“i love your voice like this,” you said softly, dragging your nails down his chest. “you make the prettiest sounds when you don’t fight it.”

you tightened around him with each roll of your hips. his whole body jerked, like he was going to fall apart. he was close, you could feel it. you could feel the way he was pulsing inside you, his muscles tense, his throat too tight for words. and then he came hard. with a desperate moan muffled against your neck, rin itoshi came inside you like his world had ended. his arms wrapped around your waist as he tried to hold on, head buried in your shoulder, hips twitching helplessly under you.

but you didn’t stop. you kept moving. slower this time, deeper, and messier. he whimpered.

you whispered in his ear. “don’t stop. you said you loved when i sat in your lap, didn’t you? so i’m not getting off. not yet.”

he was shaking. he buried his face in your throat and sobbed your name as you fucked him through the overstimulation. his voice was raw. his whole body was flushed. his nails left half-moon prints in your thighs. and when he came again, gasping and whining like he didn’t know if he could survive it, you kissed him slow, just like you had in the beginning. like he was yours, because he was.

“such a good boy,” you whispered. “so good for me.” and rin couldn’t even speak.

he just nodded. dazed, fucked out, ruined. exactly how you wanted him.

[itosheye]

WE NEED MORE GIN X READER

sex with gagamaru is definitely animalistic ㅤꨄ︎ 18+ ;; fem!reader ;; 2.0k wc ;; virgin gin , porn w plot (?) , rough , piv , manhandling , licking , animalistic behavior (duh) , ignorance , lack of prep , size kink , mentions of animal mating (non-graphic) , creampie , dismissed comfort , 'oops wrong hole' moment , fluff at the end

he never meant it to be. gagamaru was never exposed to any kind of pornos. whenever there was a romantic moment in the manga, he'd skim past it to see fight scenes faster. the only actual sex he'd see was from the animals he'd prey on.

he's seen bears do it from behind, deers humping in the woods, wolves going hardcore doggy style mid-howl. none of it looked gentle. the concept of human-intimacy? never questioned it. always just imagined it was the same as animals.

so when he first met you, of course he fell in love with your beauty, but also in love with how knowledgeable you are. there was one moment when the two of you were kissing. now gagamaru doesn't get horny so easily. when you guys were lip smacking, the tension got heated yet gagamaru didn't catch on what it was leading to.

it was until you made it clear of your intentions. when you stood and undressed in front of him to let him know what you want, he went feral.

gagamaru practically jumped at you, his tall figure forcing you onto the floor. you yelped, eyes widening at his intensity already. his strong hands grabbed your waist, forcing you to turn around. he pressed your breasts against the hard floor, not caring for your comfort because frankly his only idea of sex is slam and go.

the wind was knocked out of you, bracing yourself on the floor. your back was arched, legs spread. you decided maybe it was okay for it to start off like this. after all he is a man, he might've had urges—just never had something to get rid of them.

it was until he lowered his pants, his flinging out. he didn't prep you, didn't even lube his own self up. it was until he pressed his flushed tip against your puckered hole did you shoot up.

"ah–! gin! no!" you quickly stopped him. this caught his attention, widened eyes meeting yours when you looked back at him. he could see the sheen sweat already forming on your forehead, your chest heaving as you collected yourself.

"..yes?" he brought you back to life when you gathered all your senses after being folded. gulping heavily, you spoke. "tha-that's—" pant "that's not where you put it."

he tilted his head, for sure if he had puppy ears one would flap in confusion. he was going to ask what you meant, but your reached one hand behind. you didn't want to suggest a new position, or to go back on the bed. your small hand wrapped around his own cock, gliding across it slowly to waken him up more even if it felt diamond hard.

you guided him, his tip meeting the wetness of your cunt. aligning his blushing head with your entrance, you nodded. giving him the green light you spoke, "okay- go."

mistake. the moment those words left your mouth, he thought it was the green light to go full on ballistic on you. no warning, full on slamming inside your tight walls.

a shrieked left your mouth at the sudden impact. it didnt help that gin was massive. now you wondered why you didn't offer foreplay. "ngh- gin! wait!" your voice drowned out, cause immediately gin began to jack hammer his frustrated cock into those gummy walls.

a groaned left his mouth, his head thrown back. his first time feeling this—and fuck he felt addicted already. the plap plap plap of skin on skin was a melody he wont be able to erase from his head, his tip constantly kissing your sensitive areas inside you.

you couldnt brace yourself, and your own protests went deaf to his ears. he was so entranced into the feeling of your warm cunt, he couldnt hear your cries to slow down.

you desperately tried to reach behind you, placing finger tips to his ruthless hips to snap him out of it. it did, but not his pleasure. he lowered his head back to you, seeing you look over his shoulder with a pleasurable face.

his hips then began to slow down a bit. you moaned in relief, watching as he lowered himself further so his abs was against your back. you could feel it through the shirt.

"mmph- gin- wh-what?" he placed a hand on the crown of your head, and forced you to look forward. then it came back, the rough pounding of your hips. whines escaped your lips, his cock dragging your walls so deliciously yet brutal. you were torn between asking him to slow down or just to suck it up and take it—because fuck it still felt so good.

the reason of him maneuvering your head was just birthed from total confusion. he didnt comprehend why you'd turn to him.

he continued to drill his hard shaft into you, forcing your hole to memorize his size, girth, every vein that wraps around his flaccid skin. especially the sensitive one under his bulbous tip.

he pressed his nose to your temple, groaning desperately in your ears when you'd clenched around him. the heat of his body was so overwhelming, your body shuddering in need. he got a huge whiff of the sweat on your skin, his own tongue darting out to lick it off of you. you yelped at the feeling of his warm muscle on your forehead, but allowed it.

he patted the skin on your stomach, waking you up more when he grew more vulgar. now thrusting his hip up, the new angle being a constant abuse to your gspot. you yelped, back arching. your arm flailed around, desperate for leverage onto anything. his thick carving into your stomach became so suffocating, you didn't even process your orgasm starting to build.

you mewled, back arching hopelessly, jutting your hips out to take more of him even deeper. "oh—fuck! gin! i-ima cum!" you warned, breathing so rapidly for air. the way his balls constantly clapped against your clit, your eyes rolling back hearing the nasty squelches of your sopping pussy.

his eyes drifted off, decoding what that could mean. "g-go where?" he groaned in your ear. you couldn't help but crack a smile, until the wind knocked out of you. "f-fuck! ah! i-im cumming—!" you whined out, letting out a long moan.

your toes curled roughly, your whole body going electric with the earth shuttering orgasm that ripped through your entire core. a long cry ripped from your throat, choking out sounds when you'd forgot to breathe through it. walls fluttering around him. it was the kind of orgasm that left you sobbing and squirming.

gin's eyes widened even further—if that was possible— watching your body convulse around his furious cock. that set him off, and only a few more rough thrusts in did he bury himself to the hilt, dumping his seed deep inside you, his cock pumping the gooey liquid.

he groaned deeply, an iron grip on your waist. there was mixed pants between the two of you, your body collapsing on the floor from exhaustion. gin followed after you, laying his body on you. you grunted. "ah- no. you're heavy." you mumbled tiredly. he frowned mockingly, before rolling off of you and onto the hard floor as well.

you tried to collect your mushed up brain, eyes sleepily closed before gin spoke.

"weird," he finally mutters after a while, staring at the ceiling. you hummed in response, too lazy to reply with a verbal response. "you made noises. good noises." he spoke his thoughts out loud. it did catch your attention. "i liked it."

you chuckled softly, using your last of strength to scoot towards him, laying your head on his chest. "i did too."

—gin cant identify human intimacy. his default understanding of sex is just pure animalistic. his mind automatically associates it with dominance, instinct, scent and movement. affection is definitely a foreign concept to him the remaining moments you two of sex.

until you asked to take the lead. that's when he found it far more satisfying than what he thought.

please do not plagiarize ;; proofread ;; part 2?? :3

[itosheye]

╭┈➤﹒. rules . itosheye

— under NO circumstances will i ever write r@pe, incest/stepcest, piss kinks, foot fetishes or anything related. if you ask that you will be blocked, so please dni.

— i choose what i write. i promise it's not personal! the ask might just not be what im feeling at the moment, but i will try my best to fulfil all of your guys' wishes

— straight up hate comments will be deleted.

— tips are appreciated! english isn't my first language , so feel free to tell me if i made any mistakes.

— i write smut, fluff, angst (maybe but i never wrote it before) and mostly drabbles

enjoy ~

[itosheye]

okay who cut the onions

⋆｡°🎧ྀི.⊹₊ ⋆ in the end, no one was ever truly free except for mikasa.

[itosheye]

FINALS ARE OVER !!!!!!!!!!

[itosheye]

just had my first final. might drop something tonight👅

[itosheye]

imma need a part 2 of this plz.

summary: isagi yoichi finding out he likes choking/he's a brat tamer all at once - mdni andy's notes: currently reading the manga and just...isagi thinking "am i awful for liking this feeling of crushing people's dreams" 😂 he likes a challenge what can i say 😂

he's not the most experienced guy, but the second reo says you're a bit of a brat, something just sort of ... clicks.

he's only ever really read about these things—service doms and soft doms and a lot of other terminology he's logged away in a notebook somewhere—but he's pretty sure that the whole reason he's never been enthusiastic about sex is that he's never had a partner who wanted what he wanted.

but now he has you, and fuck—you've been walking around all night flirting with his friends and he gets it now, that you're riling him up just to see what your punishment will be, and he has to adjust his jeans just to keep his dick in control.

"come here, sweetheart," he says, and you're at his side instantly, peering into his eyes through your lashes, all innocent and coy, like you haven't been acting like a little cocktease all night. "how long have you been planning this?"

the heat that suffuses your face could heat planets.

he can't help the slow, lazy smirk that steals over his face.

how fucking cute.

"you trust me, baby?"

your nod is tight and eager. his dick pulses in his jeans.

oh, he's gonna have you squirming later, shoving his hands away until you're screaming too much, yoichi!

you're already wiggling next to him, eyes flickering down to his hands like you can read his thoughts. he taps the side of your neck once, careful to read the expression on your face. you're a bad liar, and he knows all your tells, so he starts to slowly squeeze the smooth column of your throat, thumb and forefinger firm on either side of your windpipe.

and there's no other word to describe the look on your face beside ecstatic, a blissful surrender that travels all the way down his spine. the weight of your trust is enormous in his hands, a depth of feeling he can't put into words.

or maybe he can, if he focuses on the way your lashes flutter shut, lips parting in a sigh, breath skirting over his wrist—

it feels right.

he pulls you in, his other hand hot on your waist. "we're goin' home right fucking now."

[itosheye]

imagine your bllk fave trying to beat your hq fave at their own sport to impress you (or vice versa).

[itosheye]

painfully domestic. fem!reader. established relationship. aged up characters.

in title, itoshi sae is simply 'the boyfriend.'

he is exempt from all tasks that would fall under the category of fatherly duties, and he should be fine with that. yet, he's been staring at your daughter's snoopy-themed lunch pail forgotten on the dining room table, for a little over ten minutes. he knew you were in a rush when you kissed him on the forehead and left for drop-off, clutching a tumbler of coffee in one hand and your work bag in the other. today was that important work meeting with administrators that you've been preparing for, and grabbing your second grader's lunch must have slipped your mind.

well, shit. of course this happens on his one day off.

he usually prides himself on his decision making, driven by instinct and unconscious knowledge from past experiences. but for the life of him, he continues to rest his chin on his clasped hands as his elbows dig into the table, glaring at the well-loved bag like a terrible first date. he checks his phone. it's 11:04. her school lunchtime begins at 11:30. if your daughter didn't eat lunch, she would come home grumpy; if she was grumpy, you would be equally grumpy when you pick her up from after-school care; that meant that by the time everyone was at your apartment, he'd be stuck in the middle of two hangry monsters that would gladly tear him to shreds.

so, he snatches up the pail--it's lighter than he thought it would be--and pulls his car keys from the hook by the door.

on the drive over, he imagines every possible way this interaction could go wrong. he was just the boyfriend, just the guy that you brought over every once in a while after date night. your daughter adored him, yes, but he wasn't as permanent of a fixture in your life as he wanted to be. if this all went sideways, you could think he was overstepping and break up with him. or, your daughter could think he was overstepping and tell you to break up with him. the front office could call the police on him and accuse him of trying to poison your daughter...and then you break up with him. the thought makes him grimace even as he pulls into the parking lot at 11:15.

his eyes narrow on the suspiciously collapsed bag in his passenger seat. upon opening, his heart drops into his stomach when there is nothing to be found but a broken plastic fork and a used napkin. had you forgotten to make her lunch altogether? were you that stressed and he had missed it? he's throwing the car back into 'drive' before he can finish swearing under his breath, pure adrenaline and muscle memory navigating him into the nearest fast food drive-thru and reciting your daughter's order that he'd typed into his phone. you didn't know he had the note containing all of your favorite food spots, orders, and other things that were special to you and your daughter; it was a secret he intended to take to his grave.

he pulls back into the parking lot at 11:25. five minutes until lunchtime started.

the bell hanging from the door handle makes a jingling noise as he enters the front office.

"hello, i'm here to drop off lunch for a student. she forgot hers this morning," he says as warmly as he can, holding up the lunch pail containing the fast food (he didn't know the school's policy on outside food and thought it best to hide it. he prayed the cup of soft serve didn't fall over). the receptionist looks up at him and then shakes her head in shock, like she couldn't believe what her eyes were feeding her.

"oh-oh wow, you're-you're that footballer," she sputters and he nods, his smile threatening to become strained and impatient.

"yes, i'd be happy to sign something after i drop this off," he continues. his eyes flick to the other office workers who have begun whispering among themselves, no doubt exchanging opinions on his surprise appearance.

"yes, of course. your student, she talks about you a lot." she does? "the other children complain to us that she is lying, but we were never able to dispel the rumors...until now."

"right." his smile is now more like a fraying tightrope. "so, i'm able to drop this off for her?"

"of course, all guardians on the emergency contact list are allowed to bring lunch for their students," the woman chirps. for the first time, sae's brain completely shuts down. he was on the emergency contact list? but he didn't put himself there, so does that mean you had put him down? "shall i call her up to the front office, or would you like to deliver it to her classroom?"

"either is fine, whichever is faster since lunch is about to start," he replies. she nods, picking up the desk phone and murmuring to whoever was on the other end of the line.

"she'll be here in a few minutes; you can have a seat in the meantime," she informs him after she hangs up and gestures to the chairs behind him. he obliges, and it's only two minutes before your daughter comes barreling around the corner with a smile so wide, he's afraid she might damage her jaw.

"mister sae! mister sae! mister sae!!" she squeals, leaping forward and throwing herself into his arms. his arms instinctively secure around her body despite his mind's shock.

"hey, kid. forget something today?" he places her on the floor and kneels to her level, handing her the snoopy lunch pail. she gasps, grabbing it and jumping in place with excitement. "careful with that, there's a surprise inside that may or may not be ice cream," he whispers secretively, giving her a wink.

"do you go back to work now?" she asks, a pout pulling down her bright smile. "i don't want you to leave."

the office door bell jingles before he has the chance to answer. he smells your perfume a split second before you say with amusement, "well, who do we have here?"

"mama!" your daughter attaches herself to your legs while sae turns to you with a smirk. "mister sae is here."

"i see that." the surprise of seeing your boyfriend at your daughter's school temporarily stuns you, despite you being the one who put him on the emergency contact list. "whatcha got there?" in your daughter's hand dangles her lunch pail, which smells interestingly like the greasy paper bag of fast food that you'd rushed to grab after you finished your meeting.

"mister sae brought me lunch since i forgot it today," she explains. "he says there's ice cream."

"among other things," he interjects, earning a chuckle from you and a giggle from your daughter. "i woke up and saw the pail on the table, and...just didn't want her to be hungry."

"you didn't need to do that." you look at him with something soft in your eyes, and he looks back.

"but i did." the shrill sound of the school bell breaks the intimacy of the moment and you set your daughter back down. "we should get going," he reminds your daughter. "you've got some food to eat."

"what about mama's food?"

"i think mister sae and i can finish it off, no?"

"guess i'm switching cheat day to today," he confirms. "go ahead and go to lunch, honey. we'll be back in a few hours to pick you up."

"promise?"

"promise."

[itosheye]

my finals are killing me everyone plz bare w me i swear ill post like crazy after im done w them