#fly High Hinata

#fly high hinata

hey im new here does hinata live at the end of hq?

during the olympics oikawa spikes a ball directly into his head using his full force, killing him instantly.

body positivity texts || bokuto koutarou, oikawa tooru, satori tendou, terushima yuuji

request : hey there! I hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself. I was wondering if you could do some body positivity texts for like a medium sized or chubby y/n with like bokuto, oikawa, tendou, and terushima. or you can do whoever you want. I’ve been really struggling with body confidence lately. alsooo if you can’t get to it I completely understand, pls don’t stress yourself <3

warnings : none i think??? just general good vibes??

a/n : these were so fun to make wtf ,,, also bokuto’s should say “no reason to not go out w me” smh

a few pushes

paring: sakusa kiyoomi x fem reader

warnings: baby trapping, breeding kink, unprotected sex, manipulative sakusa, car sex, semi public sex, controlling behavior, possessiveness, jealousy, sakusa wants more, sexting, shower sex, abandonment issues, lack of communication, starstruck reader, nice reader meets evil & toxic sakusa

word count: 3.3k

english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes

Because Sakusa was a clean person, when he decided to have a fuck buddy, he carefully handpicked one and stuck with one only.

Locker room talk was always loud, but much louder these days with Hinata joining the team. Miya loved attentive listeners, Bokuto obviously wasn’t one. Sakusa couldn’t help but hear it one day when the blond setter was giving out tips on how to relieve stress after a long day and said sex was the best way.

“Muscles? Relaxed,” Atsumu said, directly to Hinata, but all eyes were on him anyway considering how loud he was. “And imagine you lost a match.” The blond man hurriedly put one finger up before continuing, “I’m not jinxing anything. What I’m saying is–it’s just a way to–let the frustration out, you know? It works.”

Did it really? Sakusa doubted, recalling his first time with a childhood friend whom he soon fell out of touch with after and didn’t remember being relaxed nor fulfilled, only rushed and clumsy. Yet, that was years ago. What was life if not trying again and again to one’s utmost?

He thought of Atsumu's words, then he thought of you.

You were this one girl from Itachiyama Institute who wasn't in the same class as him but went to every game Sakusa played. It was safe to say you were his fan after overhearing you talking to someone in the library when he was trying to find the right material for his homework.

“Who’s your favorite player?” a voice asked. “Mine is the captain.”

“Iizuna?” you countered.

“That’s his name? I don’t know, I only watched one game.” The voice giggled.

“Mine’s the ace. Sakusa Kiyoomi”

Your answer made his wandering eyes halt before moving with their own volition from the spines of the books to the source of that response. He saw you for the first time that day. And every time after that.

—

A normal occurrence was what you were. You were just there, respectful enough to never get close, never even tried. Sakusa’s brain registered your existence as a diluted consistency, not on the forefront of his mind but vivid enough to make him miss several receives in an important match when you didn’t show up.

Sakusa scowled when he saw you at the next day’s match, having a mask on and trying your best to hold the coughs in. Half of his heart labeled you as a danger to society but the impulse to grab your shoulders and shake you was stronger, driving him to approach you for the first time after seeing you that day in the library two years ago.

He had a mask on, hands in his jacket’s pockets. “God forbid people get their annual flu shot.”

You quickly retreated when he kept advancing, confusion shown clear as day on your face. “What?”

What, indeed. Despite being in the same year, your paths rarely crossed. You never dreamed that one day you would get to talk to the curly-haired ace in person, let alone about a flu vaccine. And if someone had told you Sakusa would ask you to be his exclusively fuck buddy sometime in the near future, your brows would have furrowed for the rest of the day.

College separated you both, connected again when you met his cousin, Komori, by chance and he told you Sakusa just joined MSBY Black Jackal and became a professional player. You wouldn’t miss seeing him on the court again for the world, so you went to the next game instead of working on your dissertation.

The black, abyss-like eyes found yours not even fifteen minutes into the first set. They, however, never returned again throughout the game. For a second you thought he did not remember you, but when you lined up with other people for his signature and he got hold of the MSBY mascot plush merch you bought, he signed his name down and said, “Give me your phone.”

Like sorcery, you handed him what he asked.

“Password,” he demanded curtly, and you gave him everything. The kid queuing after you sneaked his glance not so subtly, must have wondered why it took so long.

He returned your phone after putting his number in and called out to get yours then moved on to the kid behind you without a word.

It was like that with Sakusa, either it was the highschool him telling you to put your hands out so he could spray the hand sanitizer on or the current him texting you his game schedules and telling you to come, it was all the same—he never had to give reasons and you never needed them.

You liked him, sure. Respected him, absolutely. More than that, you hoped he got everything he wanted, wished him nothing but the best. But the thing was you never really knew what he desired, had no clue how deep those pools of blackness that were his eyes ran and what lay beneath. You just said yes when he asked if he could pick you up because he wanted to talk to you about something, yes again when he asked you to kiss him, to be the one who crossed the boundary and made the first move.

Surrounded by the quiet of his apartment’s parking lot late at night, Sakusa sat behind the wheel and waited for you to lean over the center console, eyes tracking every movement. When he felt the gentle brush of your lips on his, he went still and kept his lips closed, extra secured.

“Use your tongue.”

“But you—”

“Try harder then,” he said, almost taunting. “Coax me open.”

And you tried, you swore you tried, to learn that all it took was you giving up and drawing back to finally make him open his mouth and snatch you by the nape of your neck to receive his kiss. All tongue and teeth… with a soft chuckle.

At one point, you heard a faint honk and realized it was your back that touched the car horn. Sitting in Sakusa’s lap in the driver’s seat, your panties were long gone and half of his wrapped hard length was already in, he pushed you down fully just when you saw someone walk by from the corner of your eye.

“They’ll see.” Your voice shook pathetically, your face buried in his heaving chest. “They will know.”

“They are gone,” Sakusa whispered next to your ear. “Look. No one’s here.”

But you wouldn’t dare. Calling his chest your new home, you hid.

“I said look.”

He then gripped your chin and turned your face out towards the side window, and you wished the ground would open up and swallow you at that moment. The passersby were two people, they still hadn’t done unloading shopping bags from their car. You tried to be as still as the dead, but Sasuka’s cock ramming up in and out didn’t really vouch for that. He looked at them with you but much calmer.

Your back hit the horn again and you knew it blared at full volume because the two passersby abruptly turned your way.

“Darling,” he tutted. “You want them to see.”

“No!” you cried.

Why didn’t he stop? Why did he only plunge deeper, hitting your sensitive spot just right in the most inappropriate moment? And why did the couple not stop staring this way?

Why did you come so hard your ears rang, only conscious enough to feel the pulse inside your pussy a moment later and nothing else?

“Miya was fucking right,” he mumbled, probably to himself cause you had no idea what he was talking about. To you, he said, “Can I have you?”

“What?”

What, indeed.

—

After getting the test results back from the health center and knowing for certain that you both were clean, Sakusa threw the rest of the condoms in the trash. Seeing that and getting railed till your eyes rolled and your pussy filled with his cum all in one night that you had to get a plan b the next morning, you knew you had to get on the pill.

Sakusa knew, he asked when a reminder alarm went off one night, and you answered honestly that you had to take the birth control pill.

“Just—don’t want to forget,” you said.

He didn’t comment but looked closely, at the pill, at you.

The pro-athlete knew that this was a good call. You were in your last year of college about to graduate and he just started a career. But for some corrupted, selfish reason when he looked at the white pill you took, he hated it with passion.

It was like being kept at arm’s length, not trusted enough, not wanted enough. It was petty, but Sakusa had always been greedy and you just never wanted a damn thing from him, always so polite and respectful—knowing your place.

And as days went on, it drove him mad more often than he would like to admit, on the verge of screaming at you to stop taking only what he gave, to stop understanding boundaries and demand more of him.

Never a call if not necessary, no texts if it was not answering some shit he sent before, not a hint of jealousy when some fans blatantly flirted with him, only the look of genuine delight that a lot of people seemed to admire him. Turned out it was him who enjoyed having you to himself a little too much, his embrace stayed locked all night from fear of you leaving before he woke.

Sakusa was not a lunatic, but he knew he was just a few pushes away from going deranged. Just a bit more.

—

“I need to know what you’re up to, where you are. You gotta text me more,” said Sakusa casually while getting dressed one cold autumn morning, seven months into the agreement, “so I know you’re not out there fucking someone else behind my back.”

Your jaw dropped. “I would never.”

“Just a precaution. You barely talk to me.”

“Oh.”

“Text me.”

And you did it without fail, sending him pictures, telling him where you were, what you did. Later on when you learned that he also liked to know who you were with, you told him that too. But lately the correspondence deviated slightly, going out of its day-update course to something—lewder.

‘Outfit?’

He definitely knew what you wore since you never not stayed the night, and getting ready together in the morning had become a routine. Was it weird? Maybe. But if being a fuck buddy helped him with the stress and this was what it entailed, then you counted this as part of the agreement. You were fine with how everything turned out, really. Were you supposed to be fine? That was a question for another day.

You texted back, ‘I’m in class. Can’t take a pic.’

He, on the other hand, could. The shirtless picture showed up in the chat, you had to lock the screen and put the phone face down as fast but also discreetly as you could. Any straying eye could have seen that, you thought, cursing Sakusa for his audacity.

Finding yourself in the nearest restroom a few minutes later, you got another message just when you were about to answer the previous one.

‘Show me what you’re wearing down there.’

You did.

‘Move the panties aside, let me see my pussy.’

He got a dirty mouth for someone who prided himself so much on cleanliness.

‘You shouldn’t be wet. Weren't you in a lecture?’

You could hear him chuckle from here. He loved to do that, the mocking, the shaming before bestowing a soft pat on the head to soothe them all.

‘Can’t wait to go home and lick it myself.’

Oh.

‘Wish me luck on the game.’

“Go get them, tiger,” you whispered, but simply typed, ‘Good luck.’

There were so many things you didn’t say and didn’t know if you could. Like for you, he was one of the best players any team could ever ask for, had believed that since you first heard the ball made contact with Itachiyama’s gym floor and the thundering roar of the impact made you stop walking and look. You stood there, in front of the gym, eyes focused on the curly haired player, watching the practice till someone needed to get inside and asked you to move.

He didn’t need luck.

That was before he came home and carried you to the bathroom straight away, the paper you were working on marked abandoned for the rest of the night. What you gathered while being pressed to the glass shower screen, breasts and cheek pushed harshly against the cold material was that Sakusa thought he needed luck.

MBSY lost the match.

“Well, my good luck charm wasn’t with me,” he hissed.

“You know that’s not—” An embarrassing whimper caused by a hard snap of Sakusa’s hips cut the sentence short.

“You should always be with me. You have to. Promise me you will,” Sakusa ordered, one hand pulling on your hair till your head tilted from the force, the other still on your waist, squeezing hard like he wanted it to bruise. “Hurry. Say it.”

“I promise.”

Promises made during sex weren’t meant to be kept, you thought. You just wanted to make him feel better, give him what he wanted. When he tugged you from the shower screen and turned you to face him, Sakusa’s mouth curved up into a thin smile, his raven curls all damp but framing his face just right. Dazzling as always.

A temporary beauty that could slip out of your hand at any given time.

—

It didn’t take much to annoy Sakusa, he still glared at the little pill you took every day like it was his worst enemy; but tonight, Atsumu took the cake.

“You look—strangely familiar.” Atsumu squinted his eyes at you. “Have I seen you before?”

As a matter of fact, he had. The agreement just hit a one-year mark, and you had been at numerous games before leaving with him every time in his car, of course Atsumu had seen you. The blond shithead just wanted to get the rise out of him.

“You have, Miya-san,” you answered politely.

It was the first time he took you to a team dinner, first fucking time and this happened.

“You and Omi-kun.” The speaker made a gesture with his hands, insinuating his curiosity in the relationship between you and his teammate.

“I’m a friend from school.”

The answer was too spontaneous, like it was on the tip of your tongue ready to be let out. And if that wasn’t the last push, Atsumu moving to sit in an empty seat next to you was the final nail in the coffin.

—

“What are you looking for?” Sakusa asked, knowing damn well what you were trying to find.

The weather outside the hotel room was pure heat and no wind, living up to its reputation Sakusa was aware of when he did the research to plan this one-week trip. It was somewhere far from Japan, people didn’t speak your language, and you didn’t have the pill with you.

“I swear I put it right here.” You sounded so confused he almost pitied you. “Shit, how am I going to—urghhhh. Why am I like this? I forgot? Did I really?”

“If you don’t tell me, I don’t know how to help.” His voice came out sterner than he intended to. “What are you looking for?”

“My pills—the birth control pill” You looked like you were going to cry.

Then cry, he thought, thinking back to when he took the damn pills out of your bag and regretted nothing. Your lamenting, though, was getting on his nerves.

“Are you trying to baby trap me?” Sakusa snarled.

Just like that, you looked at him like he had two heads. Sakusa could see your whole body tremble, voice quivering so bad when you tried to speak.

“No.” You shook your head. “No, I’m—I’m going to search how to buy them here. Where’s my phone.”

You looked for the device, found it, but Sakusa was fast in pulling it out of your hand again.

“Liar,” he accused.

“What?” Disbelief was written all over your face, voice went high-pitched. “What do you mean? I’ve been taking them for a year, never missed a day, I wouldn’t start now.”

“The missing pills say otherwise.”

“I’m gonna buy—”

“Isn’t it too convenient, disappearing into thin air when traveling abroad to a country where you have no idea if birth control pills can be bought over the counter or prescribed easily.”

“We can buy condoms.”

“No,” said Sakusa, looking down at you who stood with tears brimming in both eyes. “We’ll do it raw, since that’s what you want.”

—

“Is this what you want?” he asked again when you slid down on his cock, pussy as soaked as your tear-stained face. “You want to use me.”

Still trying to defend yourself, you muttered little nos. Because they were there, the pills, you remember exactly where you put them, checked it twice even.

“Use me then.” Sakusa refused to touch you, to help. Rested against the headboard in all his naked glory, his cock fit perfectly inside you like it belonged there.

How did it come to this? From a spectator who admired him from afar to being this close, lifting yourself up and dropping down on his cock, not a part of your body he hadn’t cummed in or on, being called a baby trapper when you had no such plan.

You could never do that to him, but it was also difficult to get out of his strong hold when you knew he was about to cum, tried and failed to pull yourself up so he could climax outside.

Sakusa hugged your whole body to him, shooting ropes of white fluid deeper than you ever felt. He must have been real angry with you to be able to pull this off out of spite and kissed you later as if everything was fine. Tongue tasting salt from the tears, you heard Sakusa’s low moan and a string of words.

“Let’s make sure it takes.”

—

The first four days were like that, staying in the hotel room and surviving on room service. The state of the room the maid had to see when they came in for a daily cleaning embarrassed you every time, but all you could do was smile bashfully and go sit with Sakusa on the balcony, waiting for them to be done.

He always had sunglasses on when sitting outside on a rattan chair big enough to accommodate two people, and you would always be there with him, sometimes reading from the same book, laughing at the same time. It wasn’t all bad.

Something in the way he looked at you changed after you cried your heart out and spilled your guts on the second night. You couldn’t quite grasp what it was, but his looks felt more intense and somewhat… determined.

“Kiyoomi,” you called, head resting on his chest, hearing his heart skip a beat but it was probably all in your head, thoughts muddled after taking his cum for two days straight. “I was at the gym every day after school instead of going home to watch you move around the court,” you said, “passing the ball, receiving it, spiking it. You looked majestic doing that, you know?”

“I never wish you harm.” It was a mystery how tears were infinite, fresh ones running down past the bridge of your nose and onto his chest. “I could never ruin your life.”

His tone had never been more gentle when he muttered, “I know.”

Never sounded so needy when he demanded, “Call me Kiyoomi again.”

“Kiyoomi,” you whined.

“Give me more.” He kissed you on the top of your head, nose buried in your hair. “Give me everything.”

290 notes View Post

xkoutarou

1 year ago

─── 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

+ sae x f!reader | wc 5.3k

notes: i’m in love with this man, and wrote this on a whim :’) hope y’all like it !! feedback & reblogs are greatly appreciated !! <3

summary: you’ve known sae since you were both sixteen. he’s always dreamed of going overseas and facing the world, will he ever be ready to come home?

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

sae can read almost everyone flawlessly, you included.

he’s not close to you, not at all. physically? yes, because you’re his seat partner. but in all other aspects? no, definitely not.

you’re scared of him, he can tell. whenever he moves, you get self-conscious, immediately pulling your own chair in, giving him way. then you check on him as he moves away, because you’re scared that somehow you’ve managed to offend him.

you never did. because to offend sae, you’d need to be someone who can even bother him in the first place.

sae doesn’t care about what you do though, he just happens to notice you. out of convenience, because he sees you every monday to friday and sits next to you for every class.

it’s the same routine thing every week—you sit next to each other, barely say a word all day and then before he knows it, it’s the end of school day.

it doesn’t even matter. you don’t matter.

nobody really does.

he peeks at you out of the corner of his eyes, your eyes peering down at your paper with the utmost concentration. he quickly looks away though, because the last thing he wants is to get caught and be labeled as a cheater on a history quiz. especially when he’s not cheating.

yeah, you really don’t matter.

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

soccer, soccer, soccer.

that’s all sae can think of nowadays. just do whatever he can to improve his skills, everything else is up for debate.

you’re still his seatmate, still ever so distant. he gives you credit though, for greeting him every morning now even though you look terrified and nervous all the time.

“good morning.”

today is no exception. sae’s eyes flick up to you and then back down to his desk, and that’s all of the acknowledgement you get, as usual. it’s nothing personal, he just doesn’t want to get into small talk at all.

but he’ll give you points for trying, even if he doesn’t exactly know what’s going through your head right now. somehow, he can’t read you as well anymore.

that’s how you usually are now, the newer version of you. a little more upbeat, a little friendlier, less awkward but still as shy as he first pegged you to be.

well, now you’re just slightly more amusing. somehow, sae starts to find himself wondering how you’d react to different situations.

it’s almost the middle of the school year and you’d kept up with your usual greetings everyday. sae keeps up with his usual stoic demeanour on his part.

until today.

“good morning!” you’re extra chirpy today, he notices.

sae blinks at you once, twice, and you’re still smiling at him, and he’d like to know whether you’re still that same nervous mess inside, so he opens his mouth this time.

“morning, y/n.”

simple, easy, basic courtesy.

but somehow you’re looking at him as though he’s a fucking freak.

to be fair, that’s exactly what he expected. but it’s now been a whole minute and you’re still staring dumbly at him.

“what?”

you shake your head, laughing sheepishly as you take your seat beside him, “nothing, it’s just… you never bothered talking to me before.”

sae shrugs, because it’s not like he bothers now, per se. he’s just—what’s the word—bored? “i can shut up too if you prefer that.”

“no!”

you look so embarrassed by your quick outburst that sae almost snickers. that’s the most reaction you’ve nearly managed to get out of him yet.

“i mean,” you stutter, looking for the right words to say, and maybe sae is getting a little bit of an ego boost right now because he can tell you’re flustered. “you’re pretty terrifying most of the time so…”

he knows what you mean, but he acts like he doesn’t. “oh, so you like terrifying? okay, i can do that.”

the way your face instantly switches to a straight expression is fucking amusing, and for a split second his guard falls and you get to hear him snicker.

luckily, the bell rings right after and mr hayato is never late. sae never got to hear what you thought of that.

every single day after that passes by a little bit easier, your non-friendship inching a little closer together, sae might even consider you an acquaintance now.

he converses with you a lot more fluidly (as much as he allows himself to—he doesn’t like you being too comfortable, likes to keep you on your toes), and he finds himself teaching you things he notices you’re absolutely horrible at.

like logarithms, because no matter how much you try to wrap your head around it, you refuse to ask anyone for help. you’re a little stubborn, but sae can live with that, just has to speak to you in a way that doesn’t seem like you look like you need help.

“no, you’re forgetting that the log of e is always one, there, see?” sae sighs as he explains, because you’re quite muddle-headed. “it’ll be much easier once you get all the definitions in your head.”

“were you born a genius or something?” you ask innocently upon catching his test scores. a 94 out of 100, compared to your 63.

that day, neither of you notice the fact that other people are beginning to notice your growing friendship.

sae starts tutoring you whenever he can, because apparently you’re hopeless without his help. (he says this to your face. he’s always straight with you.) and then he finds himself noticing you in ways he never did before.

how you look absolutely angelic when the sun hits your face. he notices the way you puff out your cheeks when you’re thinking hard. even the perfume that wafts through the air. you smell good.

this is ridiculous.

“hun, do you want any—”

fuck. sae’s head whips around to see an older woman at your door, almost a carbon copy of you, eyes wide as her gaze falls onto him.

no, he’s not particularly nervous or feels like he should be, but something tells you if your mother is anything like you, she’d misunderstand. this is just a lot more trouble than it’s worth. you’re a lot more trouble than it’s worth. what’s he even getting out of tutoring you?

“oh hi there! and who might you be?”

he can see stars in her eyes, all hopeful and excited as she shifts her gaze between you and sae and back to you again.

“mom! he’s no one—” ouch, he’s tutoring you and you introduce him as no one? “a friend and he’s tutoring me for some math stuff so could you…?”

it’s like the gears are turning in your mother’s head when she eyes sae knowingly. god, he has to do some damage control. don’t want either of you expecting anything much out of him.

“i’m itoshi sae,” he introduces himself, shaking her hand. “i just make time to tutor some of my classmates to earn extra credit.”

not even close to true, but neither of you need to know that. he’d much rather spend his free time getting in some training or going to the gym but he decided maybe he could spend a few hours out of today to help your dumbass with numbers.

he’s an expert at sidestepping small talk and in no time at all, your mother’s out of the room. you still seem embarrassed, he can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks.

“concentrate,” sae sighs, and he wonders why he’s even doing this for you. he’d rather go home right now, he thinks, maybe kick the ball around with rin, or just lie down in bed because waking up at 4am to train every morning is taking its toll.

you mumble a hushed apology and rub the sleepiness from your eyes. the both of you had been at this for a couple of hours now, maybe looking at numbers too much is making you tired too.

sae acknowledges you’re a fast learner though, if you have a proper teacher. he’s not surprised that ms kina’s teachings are lost on you—she’s not that good at explaining concepts. sae is, though. he usually doesn’t bother sharing but hey, maybe now is just a glitch in the matrix, maybe now he’s just trying to do good samaritan things and help you out so you don’t fail the damn midterm test.

“okay then, see you,” he says, picking up his bag and slinging it around his shoulders, only to have you grab his wrist. “what?”

you look a little bashful once you realise what you did, and then you let go of him immediately. you look like you really want to say something, but you don’t, you just shake your head.

don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it.

sae’s putting his bag back down before he knows it, and he groans internally. “say it.”

“if-if you don’t mind, maybe we could schedule a tutoring session every week?” you’re so, so timid and so, so soft.

he blinks once, twice, realising what you actually mean to say. you don’t want the tutoring session, apart from logarithms you’re fine with pure numbers, but you want time. with him.

it boosts his ego a little, if he’s being honest.

“i’m too busy with my soccer trainings,” he tells you, nonchalant until he sees how quick your expression falls and then he has to hate himself for continuing, “i have some time on friday evenings though.”

like a puppy, you’re instantly chirpy again, saying how maybe he could tutor you after he’s done with whatever stuff, and how you’d get a head start and grab some seats at a cafe or something.

you’re both seventeen when your weekly tutoring sessions start. it’s beyond himself why he agreed. all he knows is that he doesn’t particularly like being the reason your expression goes sad.

first week in, you’re still too nervous, too jumpy.

the second week, you’re a little too full of nonsense, daring to laugh at him, or with him, depending.

by the fifth week, your bare arm is already brushing his and you’re not even flinching.

you’re both seventeen when sae realises that maybe he cares for you. in the way lovers do. in the way he gets you to walk on the safer side of the sidewalk. in the way he sends you home every friday. in the way he actually responds to your goodnight texts and wakes up waiting for your good morning.

in the way he listens when you tell him that your mother is actually sick, that you want to take care of her. that your dream is simple—to find your passion one day, and to be able to earn enough to let your mother live peacefully, to help her fight whatever she has to because you don’t want her to be alone.

in the way, for the first time in his life, he reaches out to you, putting his hand on top of yours as he lets you cry on his shoulder.

your birthday falls on a friday this year, and he tells you not to bring your books that day in class. you look at him with pure shock, but then quickly adjust yourself and bring up a grateful smile.

“yes, sir.”

that night he meets you up on the rooftop of your complex, in the middle of the carpark, and you’ve never looked any happier than you did when you saw him holding that petite round galaxy cake in his hands, the sparkler candles so pretty in the night.

“happy birthday.”

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

the next school year starts and sae enters into it still close to you as ever. you haven’t met in just over a month, what with sae’s intense training camps and your family holiday. but the both of you still talk to each other daily, and he finds himself waiting for your response every night.

it’s like the both of you are in a relationship, but neither of you are saying anything about it. whatever this relationship-non-relationship is, sae thinks he likes it.

but it’s barely three months into the school year and sae has to break your heart.

“it’s the opportunity of a lifetime, i’m sure you understand right?” his coach rambles on, disgusting with how he’s talking with his mouth full and chips keep falling out of it.

sae nods, because he does. he’s almost sure he’ll go for it. it’s not everyday kids from japan get offered a spot to play for a european club.

“great! so let’s get your parents involved and get you to spain.”

“yeah, sure.”

it’s frustrating how he’s not more excited. it’s there, but it’s faint, because it’s lingering on the traces of his feelings for you. he’s never really thought this far, and maybe that was his fault. he’ll keep that in mind; he can’t risk this situation again. he can’t risk getting your hopes up and being the reason that they’ll never recover.

minimise damage, yeah, that’s what he has to do.

you go from talking endlessly in class to being quiet because sae is trying to concentrate. you go from meeting every friday outside of school to every other friday, to once every month, to none at all. you go from texting a good morning and a goodnight every day to barely getting responses from sae, barely ever even get your messages read.

then one day sae just doesn’t show up to school at all. and you finally hear that he’s been scouted for a club in spain, that he’s going to be away for god knows how long. and then you realise that maybe that’s why he’s been distant lately, because you refuse to believe that the sae who took so much time out of his busy schedule for you, the sae who made the effort to buy you a birthday cake and spend all night on the carpark just listening to you talk on and on about insignificant things because you were nervous, the sae who you fell in love with—you refuse to believe it wasn’t real.

that’s why you hold your hopes up and ride your bicycle to his house, which you’ve been to once before, just outside though, because you’d asked him where he lived and he finally obliged. it’s still beautiful as ever, neat garden lined with flowers and a soccer field in the back.

when you knock on the gate, you see a familiar face come out; it’s itoshi rin, his younger brother. you only know that because sae’s spoken about him a few times, and you saw a picture of the both of them together on his phone.

“oh, um, hi, who are you?” rin asks, cautiously, because evidently, he’s never seen you.

“uh, i’m one of sae’s… classmates,” you decide, and it stings that you realise you can’t even say that anymore. how did it all spiral from cloud nine? “is he home?”

rin blinks a few times. his lower lashes are slightly longer than sae’s, he’s carrying a soccer ball, and you just know he’s been training all day because he’s sweating from head to toe. sae has said rin wanted to be a striker just like him.

“oh, didn’t you hear? my big bro got scouted, he left for spain last night.”

it shouldn’t be this upsetting—he isn’t even your boyfriend. no matter how much you wanted him to be. he was just… someone you studied with, spent time with, made efforts for.

but something forms in the pit of your stomach when you hear that sae’s already gone, that he’s already halfway to spain without even saying goodbye, without giving you any warning.

you’d thought whatever friendship you had with him was worth more than a silent goodbye, than a one-sided decision.

“o-oh, okay, thanks!”

you bolt off before rin can say anything else, it’s better that no one can see you crying anyway.

that night once you’ve sort of calmed down, you open up sae’s message thread, which as of late is mostly a string of messages from you and sae only replying with oh or i see or i’m busy.

the last time he even bothered replying to you was last week when you asked if he wanted to watch a movie together and he said a simple no.

“you’re an ass, itoshi sae,” you cry to yourself as you bring up the keyboard on your phone, your tears falling onto the screen.

i hate you, itoshi sae.

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

soccer is the same; thrilling, tiring, demanding.

it’s been a year since he left japan and he’s still surviving, still thriving, still being revered as a genius midfielder. sae knows he has what it takes to bring victory to a good enough team, that’s what he came here for anyway—to be the best in the world.

“good job out there, sae,” the captain claps him on the back, but sae’s mind isn’t there.

it’s been a year since he left japan and he still pulls up the last message you ever sent him.

i hate you, itoshi sae.

perhaps it’s good that you do. there’s no place for your dreams in spain, or anywhere else in the world except for japan. you need to move on from him. maybe you already did, from what he hears from his classmates who still check in on him from time to time.

the first time sae hears about how some other guy asked you out, he can’t say he doesn’t care. but he’s relinquished his right to be jealous, so he barely responds to the news.

but maybe he’s beginning to see where he fucked up, because he shouldn’t have gotten close to you in the first place, should’ve just left you alone.

instead now he’s left with this sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. is this how it feels like to really miss someone?

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘

you’re now in college and you’re past whatever happened in high school. itoshi sae still lingers in the crevices of your mind, with his teal eyes and his pretty lashes and the way his hand felt when they were on top of yours.

some part of you thinks you’d never get over him, but you have to make peace with that. just because he never bothered to give you closure doesn’t mean he should be allowed to ruin your life.

besides, you’re pretty sure he read what you last sent him. there’s really nothing else for you to do if he doesn’t even bother talking to you.

you’d been trying to properly move on anyway, and that’s exactly what you try to do later that night, after accepting ryusei shido’s invitation to dinner.

he’s like the opposite of sae, though. he’s all expressive and goofy and wild because he’s got you trespassing on private property just to borrow their garden and he likes to drive fast, really fast, because he loves the wind in his hair.

if you had met him first, you’d probably be in love with the rush he gives you, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. when he kissed you, if only you didn’t have itoshi sae in your head, then maybe you’d have kissed him back.

when you’re twenty, you find out that maybe you can’t move on without giving itoshi sae a piece of your mind.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄

sae’s career has been rapidly progressing, he’s part of the starting team and is hailed as one of the world’s up-and-coming top soccer stars.

the earlier game cemented it.

his team won, with the commentators naming him as the most valuable player, assisting in all the goals scored by his team.

when he’s pulled aside for an interview, he can’t help but wonder whether you’d be watching through the television, hanging on his every word. or maybe you’d already moved on with this shido guy he hears about.

fuck that shido guy.

and when an interviewer asks whether there’s anyone special in his life that motivates him, he finds himself wishing he could say your name.

“nothing of that sort.”

interviews pass by quickly, as they always do for him because he’s not much of an interview guy, with his stoic expressions and lacklustre responses. he’s on the way back to the locker room when he hears a familiar voice calling out to him.

“sae!”

he spins around to find his mother and father there, surprising him. they must’ve heard he was playing and booked a flight out. rin’s not here though.

“rin’s busy with some soccer matches of his own back at home,” his father explains, as if he read his mind. “he couldn’t make it, but he’s surely watching the match from home.”

how silly of sae to have wished that it was you calling out to him, for that split second. you’re still in his head, and that’s annoying.

“oh! sweetheart,” his mother coos after she’s done gushing over his game, “we ran into one of your friends earlier! what’s her name—ah wait there she is!”

sae furrows his brows, following his mother’s gaze and finds you there, hugging the walls, sheepishly waving your hand at him. he’s starting to doubt his vision, maybe you’re just his imagination, maybe his mother’s looking at someone else.

“hey, sae,” you greet him, mellow and polite.

he’s still standing there like he’s the one who’s starstruck, like you’re the famous one. are you really here?

“what are you doing here?”

not the best greeting, but that’s the most he can muster when he hasn’t seen or heard from you in over three years.

you smile, and he thinks he might melt, but he doesn’t because he’s just told—lied to—the world that there’s no one special to him.

“what’s wrong with supporting one of my friends?” you say, as though this is a neighbourhood soccer match and you didn’t have to fly halfway across the world for it.

“itoshi! get in here!” by the sound of his voice, it’s the captain talking. sae doesn’t even want to take his eyes off of you, but he has to.

“go,” you tell him, “i’m staying near the airport, if, uh, you wanted to do anything afterwards.”

does he?

sae swallows the lump in his throat and nods. “yeah, okay.”

that night, he figures out which hotel you’re staying at and pays you a visit—it annoys him how fast his heart is beating and how your sudden presence threatens to mess up his life.

he knocks on your door, and you open it, beaming at him when you see him. “i thought we were meeting at the restaurant,” you say as you let him in, closing the door behind him.

“i was just passing by, sent my parents to the airport and thought i would just drop by,” he answers, lying through his teeth. his parents are still somewhere in spain and he just wanted to see you sooner, that’s all.

“well, i’m still getting ready,” you tell him, straightening your dress and looking at yourself in the mirror.

how is it possible you keep getting prettier everyday? your hair’s a little longer now, and you look more mature, you’ve learned to do makeup, and your dress hugs your body in just the right places. he’s cursing himself for staring at you.

“i thought you’d be too busy to come out with me tonight, honestly,” you confess, putting on some lipstick.

sae has to look away, “and i thought you hated me.”

that has you stopping in your tracks; this conversation happened earlier than you expected, but you’d been gunning for this all the same.

“yeah, well you left japan without saying a word to me, like i was just anyone else.”

he understands why you’d think that. that was what he was going for anyway, and it reminds him what he should be doing instead of entertaining you right now. sae should be rejecting you, you and your efforts, should turn away from you like you’re another one of his fangirls.

“why?”

but the shakiness in your voice takes him off guard.

“why what?”

“why didn’t you say anything?”

“i didn’t have to,” sae responds, simply, like he doesn’t owe you a damn thing.

“was i imagining it?” you ask, finally turning around and looking him in his eyes.

no, no you weren’t.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“then why are you here, sae?” you burst out, and he stills in his position, feet glued to the floor. “you wouldn’t give a second thought to people you don’t care about, so what now?”

“i was just taking an old friend out to dinner, that’s all.”

he’s stubborn, so so stubborn. he’s hoping he’ll hold out.

“i don’t get you,” you mutter softly, to yourself or to him, he doesn’t even fucking know.

sae really shouldn’t, but he thinks about how he might never see you again and tries, “what do you want?”

“what are you talking about?”

“do you know what you want?” sae turns it around on you. “you flew halfway across the world to get here, for what? for me?”

he’s intimidating when he speaks a little louder than usual, and you shrink back just slightly.

“i-i wanted to talk to you,” you try your hardest to form an excuse but it’s not working.

“and what did you want out of that?”

you fall flat, and you feel like giving up. you know the answer, but you don’t want to admit it. you don’t want to tell him that you wanted him to want you too, you don’t want to admit that you’ve been thinking about him nearly all the time and what could’ve been.

“just forget it,” you relent, averting your gaze, but the next moment you feel an unfamiliar sensation on your lips, the taste of his on yours.

sae doesn’t know why he’s doing it, but his body moves on its own; something he got from playing that manages to bleed into his daily life, apparently.

you taste so much better than he expected, and you feel like you belong in his arms, like you’re made for him because there’s absolutely no one else in the whole fucking world who could ever bring itoshi sae to his knees.

he’s been in denial all this time, yes, and he’s tired of it. if you came all the way here, he’s not wasting it. he pulls away from you, absolutely dazed by the wanting look in your eyes.

you’re twenty one years old when you first hear itoshi sae telling you he loves you.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎

“someone’s chirpy,” your mother says from the couch, looking up from her ipad. “i sense… a date with sae.”

you roll your eyes, throwing one of the cushions at her. “mom, shut up,” you groan, still embarrassed whenever she calls you out for it.

sae’s still in spain most of the time, but the both of you make it work. you make a point to video call at least twice a week, and he responds to you like a normal boyfriend does. it’s back to that good morning, goodnight love you shared back in high school. he makes as much time as he can, and you appreciate him for it.

“i’m glad you’re happy, sweetie,” she tells you, and you smile gratefully.

you’re more than relieved now that she’s managed to fight the cancer off. it’s the only reason she pushed you to go see sae last year. you technically wouldn’t have done it without her.

a knock on your door signals that he’s here, and your mom gives you a knowing look before she excuses herself to her room.

when you open the front door, you feel a burst of excitement when you see sae there holding a bouquet of flowers.

“happy birthday, pretty.”

even when he’s busy, even when he’s swamped, he’ll never stop making you feel like you’re on top of the world.

both of you are twenty-two when sae decides that you’re his world.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

this is the year you find out long distance is actually really really hard.

sometimes sae loses the match, and sometimes he can’t separate friend from foe from you. he gets frustrated, and so you do too. he has less than kind words when he’s venting, and you happen to be on the receiving end.

sometimes you get stressed from your finals projects, and you push him away, and sae leaves you to it. sae doesn’t check up on you as much as you’d like to, and you’re a little too stubborn to tell him that you mind.

sometimes sae would get interviewed and would have to address dating rumours, whether it’s the upcoming supermodel from america or that renowned sexy sports photographer from brazil—it’s hard not to get jealous, especially when you’re kept private.

you can’t blame him for that, not when everyone likes to send hate to the pretty girl he’s supposedly dating.

this is also where you find out that itoshi sae knows you better than anyone. it’s where he always leaves you a reminder he loves you, even when you’re fighting. it’s where he sends you a goodnight text even when you’ve hung up the phone hours ago in anger. it’s where he keeps japan in his weather app just so he can tell you not to be a klutz and fall down when it’s raining. it’s where he declares on international television that no, he’s not available but that’s none of their business.

even if you yearn for him to be next to you at times, sae’s off doing what he’s always wanted to do, and you’re not going to let yourself be a burden—so you do what you want to do, because the last thing you want the headlines to blast is the fact that itoshi sae’s girlfriend is a good-for-nothing.

twenty-three is the age where you start writing articles for a local magazine company, where you take lead on fashion articles while occasionally helping with the sports section.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

both of your careers are in full flight.

so is your relationship.

sae’s always proud of you, of your achievements, of your efforts even if they didn’t bear fruit. you’re doing so well, making yourself a name in Japan with your articles, with your wonderful insights and funny wit.

he always reads your articles, tells his assistant to get a subscription on the magazine and send it to sae’s hotel, always reads the articles you write. he doesn’t tell you about that though. doesn’t want you getting a big head.

and every time you talk on the phone about your articles and how hard it was to write or how you’re afraid people will take it the wrong way, he acts like he doesn’t even know which article you’re talking about. (he absolutely does.)

“hey, when’s my contract ending again?”

sae’s assistant looks up from his ipad from his seat across him on the private jet. he blinks twice before rifling through his different folders.

“oh, next year.”

a ghost of a smile appears on sae’s face and his assistant thinks he’s hallucinating.

“good.”

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

sae is twenty-five years old when he finally decides he’s ready to come home.

it makes the headlines—how he quit the club and refused to play for them anymore, the reason being that he wants to go back to his roots.

back to you.

because now, at your front door, after he knocks once, twice, and you open it, surprised, sae’s never been more sure that he’s making the right decision.

after all, you’re the only one in the world capable of bringing itoshi sae to his knee.

“will you marry me?”

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xkoutarou

1 year ago

by Apollonia Saintclair.

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xkoutarou

3 months ago

forced quiet sex is such a turn on. covering your little mouth, telling you to shut the fuck up while your muffled whines escape through my fingers. only fucking harder into you out of anger for not being quiet

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