Afterglow

Character: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage, Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser

Content: Blue Lock boys after pound town (tiktok trend)

A/N: A request from my one of my fav moots @captainshindo <3

Warnings: Mentions of sex

Yoichi Isagi

You’re sitting across from Isagi in a quiet corner of a late-night restaurant, the hum of low conversations and clinking cutlery filling the space around you. The air is thick with the scent of grilled meat and spices, but all you can focus on is him—slouched in his seat, eyelids heavy, hair still slightly damp from the sweat of what you’d done barely an hour ago.

He looks exhausted.

The kind of exhaustion that settles in your bones after giving everything—after pushing, pulling, and losing yourself completely in someone else. His navy-blue hoodie hangs loosely on his frame, collar stretched just enough to reveal the faintest trace of teeth marks near his collarbone, evidence of the way your lips had claimed him. He probably hasn’t noticed, too busy fighting the drowsiness that keeps dragging his head downward, only for him to snap back up again when his chin nearly meets his chest.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” you murmur, stirring your drink with a straw, amusement curling at your lips.

He blinks at you, dazed, as if only now remembering where he is.

“I’m fine,” he says, though the hoarseness in his voice betrays him. He shifts in his seat, one hand lazily rubbing at his face before reaching for the glass of water in front of him. His fingers fumble slightly, like even the effort of picking it up is too much.

You bite back a grin. “You sure? You look like you had the life drained out of you.”

At that, a slow, lopsided smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I kinda did,” he admits, voice dipping into something softer, something just for you. He leans back, stretching his legs under the table until his foot nudges against yours. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Your face heats up at his words, but you roll your eyes to cover it. “Eat something before you actually collapse.”

He groans but picks up his fork, obedient for once. You watch as he takes a bite, chewing slowly, his gaze flickering to you in between. There’s a quiet intimacy in this shared space, the remnants of passion still lingering between you, woven into the way his shoulders relax and the way his foot stays pressed lightly against yours.

Yeah, he’s tired. But he’s here, with you. And there’s something about that that makes your chest feel warm, like the afterglow hasn’t quite faded yet.

The waiter approaches, setting down a plate of food in front of you both. Isagi lazily thanks him before turning his attention back to you. You notice the way his fingers grip the fork with a little more steadiness now, the small bites he takes as he refuels his drained body. The sight makes you bite back a smirk, he really had no energy left to spare after earlier.

“You’re staring,” he says between bites, eyes flicking up to yours.

“So?” you challenge, resting your chin on your hand.

He swallows, setting his fork down just long enough to rub a hand over his face again. “So, it’s distracting.”

You raise an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Distracting from what? Chewing?”

“Yes,” he mutters, the confession dragging a laugh out of you.

“Just admit I wore you out,” you tease, nudging his foot beneath the table.

He exhales a breath that’s almost a laugh, shaking his head. “You already know you did, love.”

The admission hangs in the air between you, making your stomach flip. He doesn’t shy away from it, doesn’t try to cover it up with some cocky remark. He’s just… honest. Open. Your heart does something stupid in your chest, and you quickly focus on your food to keep from letting it show too much.

“God, what was I even thinking of letting you ride? You nearly killed me,” he sighed dramatically.

“Oh, but you enjoyed it,” you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hm, well… I might just let you do it again.”

“Oh?” you smirked, leaning in a little closer, intrigued by his sudden change of heart.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but only after my soul finds its way back into my body,” he joked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

You catch him stifling a yawn behind his hand, and before you can stop yourself, you let out a quiet chuckle. Then he lets out another yawn, barely covering it with his hand. “I think I’m gonna just pass out here. Wake me up when it’s sunset, yeah?”

You snort, flicking a stray napkin at him. “Not happening. I’m not carrying your heavy ass home.”

“You could try,” he mumbles sleepily, already slouching further into his seat.

You shake your head, watching as his head starts to dip again. “Fine, but if you snore, I’m filming it.”

Meguru Bachira

The restaurant is dimly lit, buzzing with soft chatter and the occasional clatter of dishes. You sit across from Bachira, who is currently melting into the booth like a man who’s just ran a marathon. His cheek is squished against the cushioned backrest, golden eyes barely open as he stares at the menu, though judging by the way his pupils aren’t even tracking the words, you highly doubt he’s actually reading it.

He lets out a long, dramatic sigh and slouches even further, which you thought was physically impossible until now. “M’too tired to read. You pick.” His voice is thick with exhaustion, slow and slurred like he’s seconds from passing out on the table.

You scoff, flipping through the laminated pages. “You’re the one who insisted on coming here.”

“Didn’t think you’d drain my stamina that much before we got here.” he mumbles, stretching his legs under the table until his foot nudges yours.

You roll your eyes, pretending not to feel the warmth creeping up your neck. “Quit being dramatic, you’re acting like you just did a whole workout.”

“I did,” he insists, lifting his head just enough to look at you before flopping back down. “A very, very intense one.”

“You sound proud.”

He grins, not even denying it. “Well, yeah.” Then, he waves his hand. “Give me your hand.”

You arch an eyebrow, but give in, letting him lazily play with your fingers. His thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, his touch featherlight, but there’s a sort of intimacy to it that makes your stomach do an embarrassing little flip.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur.

He pouts. “You love it.”

You do. But you’re not about to give him that satisfaction out loud, so you just shake your head instead.

The waiter comes by, eyeing Bachira with slight concern, probably wondering if they need to call emergency services for the half-conscious man draped over the table like he’s just fought for his life. Bachira somehow musters enough energy to order something simple, though you’re pretty sure he just pointed at a random item on the menu. The moment the waiter leaves, he groans and drops his forehead against the back of your hand, exhaling loudly.

“Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“Mmm,” he hums, muffled against your skin. “No promises.”

You sigh, but your other hand moves on its own, fingers combing through his damp hair, still messy from earlier. He exhales again, this time with a content little sound that makes you freeze because oh no, that was cute.

“You’re so spoiled,” you mutter.

He cracks an eye open, smirking. “By you? Yeah.”

You smack his forehead lightly, and he laughs, though it quickly turns into a yawn.

It doesn’t take long before the food arrives, and you thank the waiter while Bachira blinks at his plate like he’s not sure what it is or how it got there. He picks up his fork, twirls it between his fingers, then—

—immediately drops it with a clatter, staring at his own hand in betrayal.

“Honey,” he says gravely. “I can’t hold things.”

You stare at him. “What.”

“My arms are dead. My fingers? Jelly.” He lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers dramatically. “Look at this. I have no grip strength left.”

“Oh my god.” You stare in disbelief.

“This is your fault.” He insists, and your mind wanders back to how he worked you with his hands for what felt like hours before you got here. You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands at the thought. You broke your man. All for an orgasm. They were great orgasms but still.

“Do you want me to feed you?” You offer, feeling slightly guilty.

He gasps. “Would you?”

You were joking, but now that you see the way his eyes are lighting up, you realize you’ve made a mistake.

Before you can retract your words, he’s already leaning forward, mouth slightly open, waiting.

“…I regret everything.”

“C’mon,” he sing-songs, grinning like an idiot. “Say ‘ahhh’ for me first so I don’t feel weird about it.”

You grab a fry off your plate and shove it into his mouth to shut him up. He hums happily, chewing like a satisfied child.

“This is amazing,” he sighs, slumping even further against the booth. “I should let you ruin my stamina more often.”

You nearly choke on your own food at what he said. You grab a napkin and dramatically press it against your forehead like a distressed Victorian widow. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.” He nudges your knee with his foot again. “You love taking care of me.”

“Debatable.”

“You’re still feeding me.”

Ugh, he’s right.

He grins triumphantly, but it’s quickly interrupted by another yawn. His eyes are drooping again, and you can already tell he’s not going to last much longer.

“Meguru, if you fall asleep in your food, I will take pictures.”

He waves a lazy hand. “That’s fine, just make sure you get my good angles.”

You stare at him in disbelief before shaking your head, picking up another fry to pop into his mouth before he actually does pass out. Yeah. He’s definitely not making it through this meal awake. You place a chaste kiss on his cheek as he snores.

And honestly? You don’t mind.

Hyoma Chigiri

You’re sitting across from Chigiri in a quiet corner of a late-night restaurant, the air rich with the scent of sizzling meat and freshly baked bread. The dim lighting casts a soft glow over the table, reflecting off his crimson hair, which is slightly disheveled—strands sticking to his damp skin, the aftermath of everything you’d put him through just an hour ago.

He looks done.

Not just tired—wrecked. Like he’s been through a battle and barely made it out alive. His normally graceful posture is completely gone; he’s slumped in his chair, arms sprawled across the table like he physically can’t hold himself up anymore. His long legs stretch out beneath the table, one foot lazily nudging yours as if he can’t even muster the energy for a proper kick.

“You good over there?” you ask, taking a slow sip of your drink, watching him with thinly veiled amusement.

He exhales, blinking at you like you’ve just pulled him out of a deep trance. “I think you ruined me,” he mutters, voice hoarse, thick with exhaustion.

You smirk. “You’re acting like I made you run sprints for three hours straight.”

Chigiri groans, dragging a hand down his face. “That would’ve been easier.”

You chuckle, setting your glass down with a quiet clink. "Oh? Are you saying I’m worse than your training regimen?"

Chigiri gives you a deadpan look, but there’s the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I’m saying I might need a recovery period before I can walk properly again."

You hum in mock consideration, reaching for a fry from the basket between you. "There’s a reason why you stretch before doing stuff. Maybe you should’ve done that"

His ears flush pink, and he exhales sharply, shaking his head. A smirk falls on his lips as he sends you a look. A look that got you two here in the first place.

“Is that why you’re doing alright? Because I stretched you out so good?”

Now it’s your turn to be flustered. “H-Hyoma!”

Well, you can’t deny it. You stammer as he lazily steals one of your fries, though it takes considerable effort, his hand moving slower than usual. You watch as he chews, blinking like he’s on the verge of passing out right then and there.

The restaurant hums around you, the low murmur of conversations blending with the occasional clatter of plates from the kitchen. Outside, the neon lights of the city flicker against the glass windows, casting a soft glow over Chigiri’s already exhausted face.

He stares at his drink for a long moment before frowning. He groans again, tilting his head back against the seat. "I’m not sure I have it in me to get up."

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before bending me over.” You shrugged, a sly grin on your face as you sipped on your drip.

"I hate you."

"That’s not what you were saying earlier.” You tease, “Should I jog your memory again?”

"Again?" he nearly shouted. "I don't think I can handle that for a while. Give me three to five business days."

“Yeah right, I give it less than twenty-four hours before you’re begging me to let you do me.”

His lips part like he wants to argue, but all he does is sigh, shoulders sinking further into his seat. He doesn't need to say it—you both know the truth. Instead, he rubs his thumb over your hand, lazy and affectionate, before stealing another fry.

Rin Itoshi

You sit across from Rin at the dimly lit restaurant. Your legs feel weak, a pleasant ache lingering in your thighs, but it's nothing compared to the exhaustion practically radiating off Rin.

His teal eyes are half-lidded, and his usually sharp expression is softened by fatigue. He leans against his hand, fingers buried in his dark hair, as he stares at the menu like it’s some unsolvable puzzle. Every now and then, his gaze flickers toward you, as if blaming you for his current state.

“What?” You blink at him stupidly.

Rin exhales through his nose, not dignifying you with a response. Instead, he lets his head rest against the back of the booth, eyes closing for a moment. The rise and fall of his chest is steady, controlled, but you can tell that he’s drained. You did that. Hehe. Wait, oh my god, you did that to him. The thought makes warmth creep up your spine.

“Maybe you should’ve paced yourself,” you tease, flipping through your own menu. “Not my fault you can’t handle a few rounds.”

His eyes snap open, irritation flickering across his face, but there’s no real malice behind it. Just a grudging kind of admiration, hidden beneath layers of stubbornness. “Shut up,” he mutters, voice rough, as if he’s still recovering.

You bite back a laugh. It’s rare to see him like this—unguarded, spent, completely at your mercy in a way that isn’t physical but still intoxicating.

The waiter arrives, and Rin straightens, but there’s a sluggishness to his movements. You order for yourself, then glance at him expectantly. He sighs before muttering something about just getting whatever you’re having.

“Too tired to decide?” you hum, resting your chin on your palm.

Rin glares, but it lacks its usual bite. “Too tired to deal with you,” he corrects, rubbing a hand down his face.

You grin, satisfied, and reach for your glass of water. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

And from the way Rin looks at you, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, you know that’s exactly what it was.

You glance over at him, your fingers tapping against your own glass. “So,” you start, breaking the quiet, “how was that game of yours today? You actually manage to score this time?”

His eyes narrow slightly, but the smile on his lips is knowing. “Of course. Not that you’d understand the level of skill it requires.”

You arch a brow, leaning forward a little. “Excuse me? I could totally play circles around you.”

“Sure, you’d be great at running interference. ‘Oh no, I can’t block, I’m too cute, please don’t hurt me!’” he mocks you.

Your eyes narrow, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to slap you.”

Rin winces dramatically, then leans back with a smirk. “I don’t think you could handle me one-on-one. You’ve already proven you’re not great with stamina.”

“Oh? You’re one to talk. Don’t make me remind you how well I can handle my stamina against yours.”

Rin coughs, his face flushing slightly, but he recovers quickly. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m insufferable? Is that why you were trench deep in me a few hours ago?” You smirk, taking another sip of your water.

He scowls, but there’s a certain softness behind it. “That’s enough conversation, shut up. I’m exhausted.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before deciding to go for as long as you did.”

Rin’s expression darkens with what could almost be called a glare, but it’s too tired to be truly threatening. “Don’t even start. Do you think you have more endurance than I do?”

“Mhm, I would prove it to you again but,” You lean in a little closer, smirking. “I don’t think you can handle another round of me just yet.”

“You talk a lot for someone who’s too tired to even sit up straight.”

“Well, maybe I just enjoy teasing you.” You lean back.

The waiter comes back, placing your food in front of you. You immediately dig in, savoring the taste. Rin follows suit, though he’s still slower than usual. You catch him glancing at your plate from the corner of your eye, a barely concealed hunger in his gaze.

“Are you still hungry?”

He looks up, and this time, his glare is sharper. “I’m not that weak.”

You smile and slide your plate closer to him, just out of reach. “Sure you’re not.”

Rin narrows his eyes at you, then at the plate. It’s clear he wants it, but his pride’s getting in the way. The tension is palpable as he debates internally, and you can’t help but laugh softly. “Just take it,” you say, amusement coloring your voice.

He glances at you, his lips twitching into a grin. “Fine, I’ll take it, but only because I’m too tired to argue.”

“Ah, see? You do know when to give in,” you say triumphantly, handing it over.

“Don’t make me remind you how easily I can make you give in.” He threatens, but you hope it's a promise.

Seishiro Nagi

It’s a quiet evening at a small, intimate restaurant nestled between two towering buildings. The dim light casts a soft glow over the wooden tables and delicate plates of food. The quiet hum of conversations fills the air, but the two of you are wrapped in a peaceful bubble of exhaustion. You can still feel the lingering heat from earlier, the way his skin pressed against yours, the feeling of his hands tracing patterns along your body.

Seishiro Nagi sits across from you, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes as he rubs at them lazily. His eyes flicker to you briefly, but they don’t seem to fully focus. There’s a soft, tired smile playing on his lips, the kind that lets you know he's content, but at the same time, it's clear he’s almost struggling to stay awake. You can’t help but chuckle softly at his state.

"Hey, Seishiro..." you say, leaning across the table just enough to catch his attention. His eyelids flutter, and he blinks a couple of times, as if trying to summon the energy to keep them open.

"Yeah?" His voice is hoarse, low, and barely audible. It’s clear that he’s fighting sleep, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Mhm,” he replies, his voice raspy. "Just never had someone wear me out quite like you."

Your heart skips a beat at his words. The casual tone in which he speaks holds a sincerity that’s hard to ignore. The two of you had just come from your apartment, tangled up in each other in ways that left you both breathless and sore, and now, here you are, in a cozy little restaurant, trying to gather yourselves.

"Oh, um. You’re not falling asleep, are you?"

He shakes his head slowly, but you can see the effort it takes to do even that. His eyelids slide shut for a brief moment, and you can practically hear the exhaustion in his sigh.

"I'm fine," he mumbles. "Just... really sleepy..." His voice trails off as his head lulls slightly to the side, before he catches himself, blinking rapidly to stay alert. You watch him for a few seconds, amused, as he fights the pull of sleep.

"You sure we should’ve come out to eat?" you ask. "I can’t help but feel like you’re about to face-plant into your food."

"Maybe..." he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded. "But the food here’s good… 'sides, I want to be here with you."

Your stomach fills with butterflies at that, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. Despite his exhaustion, he’s always thinking of you. He makes sure you’re okay, that you’re happy, even when his own energy is completely drained.

“Okay, but next time, we’re definitely staying in,” you tease, leaning back in your chair. “You look like you could fall asleep any second.”

He smiles lazily, not bothering to fight it. His head drops forward for a brief moment before he jerks back up. "Nah... I’m fine..." But even as he says it, you can hear the faint slurring in his words.

You decide to let him off the hook. The waitress comes by with your food, and Nagi lifts his head slightly as she sets a steaming bowl of ramen in front of him. His eyes widen momentarily at the scent, but they immediately begin to droop again as he lets out another long yawn.

"Ramen," he mutters to himself, poking the noodles half-heartedly with his chopsticks. “S'good, I’m sure. Just... I’m gonna... just eat a bit."

You watch as he takes a few bites, each one slower than the last. His head sways a little as if he’s on the verge of tipping over, and you can’t help but feel a sense of endearment well up inside you. There’s something almost too cute about how he’s always so completely and unapologetically tired.

"Seishiro," you say softly, reaching across the table to gently touch his arm. "C’mon, let’s just go home. You look like you need a nap more than food right now."

He stirs a little at the mention of sleep, finally looking up at you with that same, sleepy smile. "No... I want to... eat it myself..." His voice barely rises above a whisper. But after a few more bites, his resolve crumbles.

“Alright, alright," you say, moving your hand to cup his face. His cheek feels warm under your fingers, the soft skin giving way to the faintest stubble. "You should nap after though. You’ve earned it."

You offer him a gentle smile, one that conveys everything you’re feeling. The tenderness, the affection, the adoration. He closes his eyes at that, his shoulders sinking further into the chair, his body going slack with exhaustion. A few seconds later, he’s practically dozing, his chopsticks still loosely clutched in his hand, hanging precariously near his bowl.

It’s not long before you’re the one gently guiding his head to rest on your shoulder. He lets out a soft, content sigh, his body softening into you like a piece of clay, finally free from the constant pull of the world. You shift your arm around him, letting him lean into you as you pick at your food, savoring the flavors but most of your attention on the sleepy, warm figure next to you.

"How do you always manage to make everything feel so peaceful?" you murmur to him, though he’s half-asleep and doesn’t respond. You don’t need him to. His quiet presence is enough.

Reo Mikage

The quiet hum of the restaurant surrounds you as you sit across from him, your heart still racing from the moments shared just hours ago. The dimly lit space feels cozy, and you can't help but grin at how relaxed Reo looks, his usual sharp demeanor softened by the weariness of the afternoon. Normally, he’s composed of confidence, like a guy who could tell you the meaning of life while simultaneously solving a Rubik's cube. But now? Now, he looks like someone who just tried to run a marathon, got distracted by an ice cream truck, and then took a nap halfway through.

His posture is slouched, his shoulders are practically begging for a pillow, and his eyes are half-lidded with a satisfied haze that matches your own. There's no trace of his usual high-strung self. Instead, there’s a vulnerability in the way he lounges in his chair, as if the very concept of sitting upright is an effort.

He runs a hand through his hair with slow deliberation. You smile, watching him. It's kind of adorable how tired he looks. You’ve always seen him as the guy who has everything under control, but right now? Right now, he’s more like a human noodle.

The waiter places two glasses of water in front of you, his smile polite but with just a hint of curiosity, like they're trying to figure out if the two of you are on a first date or if something more... intimate... just went down. You can’t blame them. Reo looks like he might collapse into a puddle any second, and you’re still glowing like you’ve just won an Olympic medal in... well, let’s say “passionate hugging.”

"Are you alright?" you ask softly, leaning forward just enough for him to hear you. His gaze flickers to meet yours, and a low chuckle rumbles from his chest.

"Can’t believe you’re the one who’s asking me that," he murmurs, his voice rough in the way people sound when they’ve just done something that requires a lot of energy. "I’ve never been so tired in my life."

You can’t help it. The laugh that escapes you is soft, affectionate, and a little too amused.

"I don’t mind," you reply, your tone teasing. "I kind of like seeing you like this."

He raises an eyebrow at that, lips curving into a slow smile, the glint in his eyes now a little more playful. He leans back in his chair like he’s got a question to ask, but it takes him an unusually long time to find the energy to do so.

"I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried that you enjoy this version of me," he mutters, his hand dragging over his jaw like he’s thinking of adding a full-body stretch to the mix but ultimately decides against it.

"You’re cute when you're tired," you say before your brain can catch up. The words slip out like they’re your new favorite outfit. Reo blinks at you for a moment, clearly processing the compliment like someone who’s just been told they’ve won the lottery. And honestly, with that tired smile spreading across his face, he kind of has.

"Is that so?" His voice takes on a slightly deeper, amused tone, as he leans forward just enough that you can feel his presence press down on you. But not enough to touch. He’s definitely holding back, probably saving up that last bit of energy to make it through dinner without literally falling asleep mid-bite.

"Yeah."

"I’m not good at this," he suddenly says, his voice so quiet that it makes you lean in a little.

You blink. "Not good at what?"

"Being tired," he admits, his voice almost sheepish. "I’m always on the go, always thinking, always—" He stops, then laughs, like he’s just realized how absurd the whole thing sounds. "But right now, I don’t even have the energy to make a joke or flirt with you. I’m just... done."

The confession hits you like a slap to the face. This is the Reo Mikage who can talk his way out of almost anything and charm the socks off anyone, yet here he is, admitting that he’s exhausted beyond cognition all because of you.

You let out a laugh, not unkindly. "That’s actually kind of adorable, you know?"

Reo sighs, his hand reaching up to rub his temples like he’s holding onto his last ounce of dignity. "I never thought I’d get to the point where I’m adorable when I’m barely functioning. This is new."

"Okay, maybe next time we can take it slower." You reach across the table and place your hand over his. It’s a small gesture, but there’s something comforting about it. Reo’s gaze softens.

"I’ll take you up on that," he murmurs, his voice laced with a new kind of tenderness. You were already thinking of next time? The thought made him ache between his legs.

Reo is doing his best to keep his eyes open, but honestly, you can tell he’s fighting a losing battle. It’s like watching a cat try to stay awake, but eventually, it just gives in to the nap.

"You’re going to pass out in a restaurant, Reo," you tease him softly, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips.

"I trust you’ll make sure I don’t embarrass myself."

You smile fondly. "No promises."

Reo doesn’t respond. His eyes have long since fluttered shut, and his head starts to tilt back. For now, the world can wait.

Sae Itoshi

It was a quiet evening, the soft hum of chatter from other diners filling the air, but you barely noticed it. Your mind was still swimming from the rush of what had happened only hours ago, the lingering weight of the experience heavy between you and Sae.

The two of you had just finished a rather intense bout of passion in the privacy of your bedroom, and while the fire had simmered down, it had left behind a raw, comfortable silence that felt as thick as the air around you now. You sat across from each other at a small table by the window, Sae's face relaxed into something unfamiliar, softer perhaps, but still radiating that effortless cool. Yet, there was an unmistakable tiredness in his demeanor now, a contrast to the usual energy that typically buzzed off him.

Sae had always been the type to dominate any room, but now, with his legs stretched out beneath the table, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his glass, there was an undeniable exhaustion in his posture. His usual confidence seemed to have slipped away, replaced with a rare vulnerability. You studied him for a moment, his sharp features softened from the wear of the day, the slight crease between his brows as if he was deep in thought or maybe just too tired to think at all.

You smirked slightly, leaning forward against the table, meeting his eyes. "You alright?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual. You knew him well enough to know when something wasn’t quite right. His body language wasn’t the usual effortless grace; it was more like someone who had just run a marathon, but at the same time, was reluctant to admit it.

He turned his gaze towards you, blinking slowly as if your voice pulled him out of some trance. His eyes, usually sharp and intense, had softened into a haze of exhaustion, though there was still a playful glint in them.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice low and almost drawn out, "Just a little tired."

"Oh? Is it from what we did earlier?" The teasing tone was unmistakable, but you couldn't help it. It had been wild. Sae had been insatiable earlier, his hands never still, his mouth hot against your skin, and his energy was something else entirely. He fucked you so deep and good into that matress you thought you we’re melting into it. But now, he was the one who seemed to need a rest.

"Don't remind me," he groaned, leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. His usual air of confidence had given way to something much more human, and that made him all the more fascinating. It was almost like he didn’t quite know how to handle it.

The waiter arrived at the table, placing your drinks down with a soft clink of glass. Sae barely acknowledged the server, his eyes still closed, his fingers drumming lazily on the edge of his empty plate. You gave the waiter a polite smile before they left, focusing back on Sae.

"You know, for someone who's so used to pushing limits," you said, leaning in just a little, "you sure look like you're ready to collapse."

He opened one eye, "I could’ve kept going if I wanted to."

You tilted your head, studying him as he let out a sigh, the way his broad shoulders sagged as if carrying an invisible weight. "You sure? You seem pretty out of it."

"I don’t do ‘out of it’," he replied lazily, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. It was the kind of response you would have expected from him, but it lacked the bite it usually had.

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, unable to hide your amusement. "Yeah, sure."

"You think I'm lying?" He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to yours with a hint of challenge, though the weariness behind it was impossible to ignore.

You shrugged. "Yeah. You look like you’re about to pass out right on the spot.”

"Yeah, well..." Sae trailed off, looking at you as if he were trying to decipher something. He reached out across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. "Guess you wore me out. But I can promise you, I could’ve kept going."

"If you say so, Itoshi."

"Don’t get too cocky now. You’re not the only one who can wear someone out. Should I remind you of what happened on your birthday?" There was still a playfulness there, but it wasn’t quite the same as before.

“S-shut up…” You mutter curtly. Even remembering what happened on your birthday with Sae made your legs ache.

But as you glanced up at him again, you noticed that his eyes were now closed. A little snore escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help but snicker. Sae Itoshi, the unstoppable force, the man who never showed weakness, he was human after all. He could get tired. He could let himself rest. Even if it was slumping over in his chair at some random restaurant.

"Well, I guess I really did wear you out," you whispered, resisting the urge to laugh out loud.

Sae’s eyes fluttered open just enough to send you a sleepy glare. "I’m awake, don’t get cocky," he muttered, but the sleepy tone betrayed him.

“Yes, sir." You teased, taking a sip of your water as you analyzed his features. Oh, how much you adored him.

Michael Kaiser

You lean back in your chair, trying not to giggle too loudly as you glance over at Michael, who’s sitting across from you, looking like he’s about to pass out at any given moment. His hair is disheveled, his shirt slightly untucked, and he’s giving you the most exaggerated, tired expression.

“Are you okay?” you ask, leaning across the table with a soft smile. You trace the rim of your water glass with your fingertips, watching him as he lazily looks up at you.

He blinks a few times, as though the question takes him by surprise. Then, as if processing your words, he lets out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah… I’m good,” he says, his voice a little hoarse, though you’re not sure if it’s from the aftereffects of your time together or just exhaustion. His gaze drifts to the menu, but it’s clear that he’s not really seeing it.

“Did our earlier activities tire you out?” you muse, tapping your chin.

“How could it not? I had you on that bed for hours.” He shook his head in disbelief at how you expected him to not be exhausted. “Only reason you’re fine is because I let you be pillow princess.”

“Hey, I didn’t tell you to be so rough though, that was done in your own self indulgence.” You narrowed your eyes at him. How dare he try to blame you?

Michael looks up, clearly attempting to muster some strength for a comeback, but all he manages is a weak smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Y/n,” he mutters under his breath.

“Are you saying you don’t have it in you for another around?” you ask with a teasing tilt of your head. He stares at you like he’s about to say something, but then his shoulders droop again as if the thought of moving is a monumental task.

“Round two?” he repeats incredulously. “You’ve already broken me. What do you want from me, a medal?”

You chuckle, leaning back in your seat as you give him a playful smirk. “Maybe,” you say before continuing “but, I think you deserve an award for stamina”

Michael scrunches his nose, clearly starting to get embarrassed, but trying to hide it.

“I don’t even know if I remember the last few minutes, Micha, you just kept going. Are you human?” You laugh, taking another sip of your water.

"I came here to eat, not to get all worked up again," he grumbled.

You flashed him a mischievous grin and winked. "Well, maybe you should've been clearer about what you wanted. I did offer you plenty to consume earlier."

"Yeah, and you drained all the energy with it," he shot back, barely holding himself together. His breath came in shallow gasps. "Careful, darling. I can have you teary-eyed and screaming again. Don’t talk your way into something you won't be able to handle."

The thought made you ache between your legs, a burning desire coursing through your body. You had to stop yourself from thinking about it too much, or else you might accidentally kill Kaiser by asking for another round. As much as you wanted it, you knew it would be too much for him in his state.

"Really? You look like you're about to pass out," you said, raising an eyebrow as you studied his flushed face.

"Might," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there was still a faint glimmer of a smirk on his lips.

"You know, this is all your fault, right?" you teased, your tone light, but there was a definite edge of playful accusation in your voice.

"What did you say?" His eyes snapped open at your words, narrowing in your direction as if ready to challenge you.

"You didn’t have to be so rough," you shrugged nonchalantly, though the memory of what had just transpired made your pulse quicken. "You did this to yourself."

"As if you'd have accepted anything less from me," he scoffed, his voice hoarse but laced with pride. "Keeping you satisfied is the real workout. The things I do, the way I wreck myself just to make sure you’re pleased..." His words trailed off, and you could feel the smugness in his tone even as he struggled to stay awake.

"Oh please," you teased, leaning closer, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw. "You think I don’t know how high you get from making me see stars every time you make me come undone?"

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, but he was already starting to drift. "Hm. I guess we both have our own reasons," he rasped, exhaustion overtaking him as his head lolled to one side, his eyes fluttering closed. You couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he had given in, how the mighty had fallen. His pride might have been unshakable in the moment, but you had a way of bringing him to his knees. You snapped a quick picture, wanting to capture this rare sight of him defeated and completely fucked past exhaustion.

"Guess we do," you said softly, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you admired the man who had given you so much yet couldn’t resist teasing you back.

More Posts from Ninrixs and Others

ninrixs

3 months ago

ᓚᘏᗢ — Golden Hours, Golden Hearts : Chapter 019 !

ᓚᘏᗢ — golden hours, golden hearts : chapter 019 !

you slipped on a loose button-up, tucking it halfway into your jeans as you sat at your vanity. your next modeling shoot wasn't anything major, just a simple shoot for an up-and-coming brand, but you still wanted to look somewhat put together before heading out.

reaching for your concealer, you dabbed it under your eyes, blending it in with your fingers when-

ping!

your phone vibrated against the desk. you glanced at the screen, expecting a message from your manager or mitsuki, but instead-

you exhaled sharply through your nose. whoever that guy shidou ryusei was, he was a dumbass. shaking your head, you locked your phone, deciding to deal with this later. right now, you had a job to do.

the shoot went by in a blur. you posed, changed outfits, adjusted your expression depending on what the photographer wanted- nothing you weren't used to. the team was easy to work with, and the atmosphere was lighthearted, which made the whole thing fly by faster than you expected.

before you knew it, the shoot was over, and you were stepping outside into the crisp afternoon air, slipping your hands into the pockets of your coat.

and there he was.

sae sat on a bench a few feet away, one ankle resting over his knee as he scrolled through his phone. his head lifted slightly at the sound of your footsteps, and when he caught your eye, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, pushing himself to stand.

"you're actually here," you said, more to yourself than to him.

he raised a brow. "you thought i wouldn't be?"

you shrugged. "figured you'd cancel last minute and send me a half-assed excuse maybe."

a quiet huff of amusement left his lips as he took a step closer. "if i wanted to cancel, i wouldn't have texted you in the first place."

fair enough.

"so," he continued, slipping his hands into his pockets. "where do you want to go?"

you gave him a look. "you were the one who wanted to meet up."

"yeah," he said, tilting his head slightly. "but i figured i'd let you choose."

you narrowed your eyes slightly before sighing. "well, what do you want to see?"

sae paused for a moment, his gaze flickering away as if he was contemplating something. the sun was starting to dip behind the buildings, casting a soft orange hue across the city, and for a second, you almost felt like you were in a movie scene.

"honestly?" he looked back at you, his tone much lighter now. "i just want to spend time with you. since you're my girlfriend now. so why don't you show me what you like?"

your eyebrow quirked, both surprised and a little skeptical at how casually he was putting it.

"are you serious?" you crossed your arms, trying to appear more annoyed than you actually were.

he smiled, a genuine one this time, and shrugged. "yeah. you can show me something boring if you want."

your eyes narrowed playfully. "boring, huh? alright then, follow me."

without waiting for him to reply, you turned and started walking, heading in the direction you hadn't quite planned yet. sae followed without hesitation, keeping pace beside you as the two of you walked through the streets.

you could feel him glancing at you every so often, probably trying to figure out here you were leading him, but you didn't look back.

it didn't take long for you to reach a quiet street lined with trees and small cafes, the kind of place that wasn't packed with people or overly flashy. you stopped in front of a little museum you loved, one that was tucked away from the usual crowds. it wasn't too popular, but it had a certain charm to it that made it feel more intimate, like you could actually enjoy the art without a thousand other people jostling for a view.

you glanced at sae, who had fallen silent for a while now. his expression was thoughtful, like he was sizing up the place. when he noticed you looking at him, his lips twitched into a slight grin.

"this is where you wanted to go?" he asked, his voice almost teasing.

you nodded, starting to walk toward the entrance. "yep. art galleries aren't your things, aren't they?"

"i don't mind them," he said casually, following you inside. "as long as you're not trying to make me understand all the abstract stuff."

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "it's not that kind of place. come on."

the museum was quiet, the kind of calm atmosphere that made it easy to forget the outside world. you walked through the galleries, occasionally stopping to admire a painting or sculpture, but not really saying much. sae was right beside you the whole time, walking at your pace, but his presence was less of a distraction now. the awkwardness from earlier seemed to melt away, leaving a space where you could just be together, without all the pressure.

there was one painting that caught your eye- an abstract piece, with deep blues and swirling greens. you couldn't explain why, but it made you pause, drawn into the colors. sae noticed you staring at it and stepped closer, leaning in slightly, making your breath stop.

"is it weird?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "that i'm starting to get the appeal of art, just from watching you look at it?"

you glanced at him, a little surprised by the comment. "you're weird," you muttered, but it wasn't exactly an insult. it was just, maybe, a different side of him. a side you hadn't seen much on social media before. not that you've known him for years but there has been a lot more content of sae itoshi on your feed since he stepped into your life.

he smirked, unbothered. "yeah, i get that a lot."

you stayed there for a few more minutes, lost in the silence of the room. it felt different, easier, like you didn't need to fill every second with words. and even though you wouldn't admit it aloud, there was something nice about it, being there with him.

once you'd walked through most of the museum, you made your way back out into the city streets when your stomach grumbled slightly, reminding you that you didn't eat anything yet for today. your eyes wandered over the street, and that's when you spotted it- the hot pot restaurant you had been dying to try for ages.

you didn't even think twice. "hey, let's eat here," you said, pointing toward the small building with a neon sign glowing above it.

sae glanced at the restaurant you were pointing to, raising an eyebrow at the sign. "hot pot, huh?" he said, his voice a little more neutral than usual, but there was a hint of curiosity behind it. "looks... cozy."

you didn't wait for a second invitation. without even thinking about it, you turned and headed straight for the door, your excitement taking over. sae followed, a lazy smirk on his face as he caught up to you, hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

the small restaurant wasn’t too crowded, the warm glow from the lights inside offering a welcoming atmosphere. the hostess greeted you both and led you to a booth near the back, where you settled in with a comfortable distance between you, despite your earlier, more relaxed interaction at the museum.

sitting down, you grabbed the menu, scanning the different broths and meats listed. "i’ve been dying to try this place for weeks," you said, your voice slightly quieter now that you were seated. You felt a small rush of excitement again- something about being here, in this little hidden gem of a restaurant, felt different than what you usually did. there was no pretense, no flashes of cameras or waiting for a perfect moment to pose.

"yeah?" sae’s voice broke you from your thoughts as he picked up the menu, flipping through it slowly. "what makes this place so special? the broth?"

you nodded eagerly, not missing the way sae's gaze flickered toward you in curiosity. "it’s all about the broth. i think they’ve got, like, ten different types. but the best one is the spicy miso- it’s got this kick to it, and the flavors... they’re unreal."

sae raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, instead setting the menu down and folding his hands on the table. "alright, let’s go with that one then. i'll let you choose."

you nodded, your excitement returning full force as you placed the order. you weren’t sure why, but it felt like the right choice for the evening- something low-key, comfortable, and easy.

as the waiter walked away to put in your order, you leaned back in your seat, glancing at sae. he was looking out the window, lost in thought, his usual self-assured air now replaced with something... quieter. you tried not to stare too much, but his relaxed demeanor felt so out of place compared to his usual boldness.

"so," you said after a moment, trying to break the silence. "i didn’t expect you to enjoy the museum so much."

sae turned his gaze to you, catching your eye as if he’d been waiting for you to say something. "i told you, i’m not just about flashy things," he said with a shrug. "i can appreciate... this." he gestured around the cozy interior of the restaurant. "it’s more... real. different."

you blinked, surprised. his answer wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice. "huh. didn’t take you for someone who’d care about the real stuff."

sae’s lips twitched up into that familiar smirk, though this time it didn’t feel like he was putting on a mask. "you’d be surprised," he muttered, leaning back in his seat. "you don’t know everything about me yet, do you?"

that was true. you didn’t know everything about him. you’d seen the public version of sae itoshi. confident, untouchable, always in the spotlight- but here, in this quiet booth, he seemed more... like a person. maybe the kind of person who enjoyed the simple things more than he let on. you glanced at him, your curiosity irritating.

before you could say anything, your food arrived, and the conversation shifted as you dug into the steaming pot of broth and ingredients. you tried not to show how much you were enjoying it, but sae noticed. "seems like you made the right choice," he commented, teasing lightly.

you gave him a small, amused smile. "yeah, i did. i wasn’t kidding about the broth."

the two of you continued eating, the atmosphere still relaxed despite the underlying tension that always seemed to linger when sae was around. eventually, as the meal slowed down and you both leaned back, your stomachs full, sae’s voice cut through the comfortable silence once again.

"tell me," he started, his tone quieter now, more thoughtful. "what’s the biggest thing you’ve ever done for yourself?"

you looked up from your bowl, caught off guard by the question. your mind flickered back to the many sacrifices and decisions you’d made throughout your life- the career, the constant hustle, the push for more. but sae wasn’t asking about your career. he wasn’t asking about the apparent stuff.

you hesitated. "i don’t know," you admitted, your fingers tracing the edge of your bowl. "i guess i’ve always been more focused on... other things. other people."

sae raised an eyebrow at your response, seemingly surprised by your honesty. "that’s pretty typical for someone in your position."

you scoffed, trying to shrug it off. "i don’t see it that way. you always do what you think is best, right? but... you know, sometimes, it feels like i forget what i even want anymore."

he was silent for a moment, watching you closely, before his gaze softened. "i get that," he said quietly. "it’s easy to forget about yourself when you’re always looking out for everyone else. but you deserve more than that."

you swallowed, not quite sure how to respond. his words hung in the air between you two, a little too heavy for something so casual. for a moment, the weird dynamic between you and sae seemed to shift. it wasn’t like him to get so... serious.

sae leaned back in his seat, looking like he was debating something in his mind before shaking his head slightly. "but hey," he said, shrugging as if to brush it off, "i'm not here to preach to you. just do what makes you happy. that’s all i'm saying."

you gave a small nod, your eyes meeting his for just a moment longer than usual. there was something genuine in the way he spoke, and for the first time that evening, you felt like you were seeing more of the person beneath the surface.

but you weren’t ready to let it all out just yet. so, instead, you forced a smile, picking up your chopsticks and shifting the conversation to something lighter. "well, for tonight, i'm happy with this."

sae smiled back, clearly relieved to see you back to your usual self. "good. that’s all that matters."

and so, you spent the rest of the evening talking about lighter things, but that one moment of quiet honesty lingered in the back of your mind, like a shadow that refused to fade. sae itoshi wasn’t just the guy in front of the cameras- there was more to him. and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, that scared you a little.

but for now, you were content. or at least, pretending to be.

"hey," he said suddenly, his voice casual, but his gaze fixed on you.

Sae glanced at the restaurant you were pointing to, raising an eyebrow at the neon sign. "Hot pot, huh?" he said, his voice a little more neutral than usual, but there was a hint of curiosity behind it. "Looks... cozy."

You didn't wait for a second invitation. Without even thinking about it, you turned and headed straight for the door, your excitement taking over. Sae followed, a lazy smirk on his face as he caught up to you, hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

The small restaurant wasn’t too crowded, the warm glow from the lights inside offering a welcoming atmosphere. The hostess greeted you both and led you to a booth near the back, where you settled in with a comfortable distance between you, despite your earlier, more relaxed interaction at the museum.

Sitting down, you grabbed the menu quickly, scanning the different broths and meats listed. "I’ve been dying to try this place for weeks," you said, your voice slightly quieter now that you were seated. You felt a small rush of excitement again—something about being here, in this little hidden gem of a restaurant, felt different than what you usually did with Sae. There was no pretense, no flashes of cameras or waiting for a perfect moment to pose.

"Yeah?" Sae’s voice broke you from your thoughts as he picked up the menu, flipping through it slowly. "What makes this place so special? The broth?"

You nodded eagerly, not missing the way Sae's gaze flickered toward you in curiosity. "It’s all about the broth. I think they’ve got, like, ten different types. But the best one is the spicy miso—it’s got this kick to it, and the flavors... they’re unreal."

Sae raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, instead setting the menu down and folding his hands on the table. "Alright, let’s go with that one then. I’ll let you choose."

You nodded, your excitement returning full force as you placed the order. You weren’t sure why, but it felt like the right choice for the evening—something low-key, comfortable, and easy.

As the waiter walked away to put in your order, you leaned back in your seat, glancing at Sae. He was looking out the window, lost in thought, his usual self-assured air now replaced with something... quieter. You tried not to stare too much, but his relaxed demeanor felt so out of place compared to his usual bravado.

"So," you said after a moment, trying to break the silence. "I didn’t expect you to enjoy the museum so much."

Sae turned his gaze to you, catching your eye as if he’d been waiting for you to say something. "I told you, I’m not just about flashy things," he said with a shrug. "I can appreciate... this." He gestured around the cozy interior of the restaurant. "It’s more... real. Different."

You blinked, surprised. His answer wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice. "Huh. Didn’t take you for someone who’d care about the 'real' stuff."

Sae’s lips twitched up into that familiar smirk, though this time it didn’t feel like he was putting on a mask. "You’d be surprised," he muttered, leaning back in his seat. "You don’t know everything about me yet, do you?"

That was true. You didn’t know everything about him. You’d seen the public version of Sae Itoshi—confident, untouchable, always in the spotlight—but here, in this quiet booth, he seemed more... like a person. Maybe the kind of person who enjoyed the simple things more than he let on. You glanced at him, your curiosity piqued.

Before you could say anything, your food arrived, and the conversation shifted as you dug into the steaming pot of broth and ingredients. You tried not to show how much you were enjoying it, but Sae noticed. "Seems like I made the right choice," he commented, teasing lightly.

You gave him a small, amused smile. "Yeah, you did. I wasn’t kidding about the broth."

The two of you continued eating, the atmosphere still relaxed despite the underlying tension that always seemed to linger when Sae was around. Eventually, as the meal slowed down and you both leaned back, your stomachs full, Sae’s voice cut through the comfortable silence once again.

"Tell me," he started, his tone quieter now, more introspective. "What’s the biggest thing you’ve ever done for yourself?"

You looked up from your bowl, momentarily caught off guard by the question. Your mind flickered back to the many sacrifices and decisions you’d made throughout your life—the career, the constant hustle, the push for more. But Sae wasn’t asking about your career. He wasn’t asking about the superficial stuff.

You hesitated. "I don’t know," you admitted, your fingers tracing the edge of your bowl. "I guess I’ve always been more focused on... other things. Other people."

Sae raised an eyebrow at your response, seemingly surprised by your honesty. "That’s pretty typical for someone in your position."

You scoffed, trying to shrug it off. "I don’t see it that way. You always do what you think is best, right? But... you know, sometimes, it feels like I forget what I even want anymore."

He was silent for a moment, watching you closely, before his gaze softened. "I get that," he said quietly. "It’s easy to forget about yourself when you’re always looking out for everyone else. But you deserve more than that."

You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond. His words hung in the air between you two, a little too heavy for something so casual. For a moment, the playful, teasing dynamic between you and Sae seemed to shift. It wasn’t like him to get so... serious.

Sae leaned back in his seat, looking like he was debating something in his mind before shaking his head slightly. "But hey," he said, shrugging as if to brush it off, "I’m not here to preach to you. Just... do what makes you happy. That’s all I’m saying."

You gave a small nod, your eyes meeting his for just a moment longer than usual. There was something genuine in the way he spoke, and for the first time that evening, you felt like you were seeing more of the person beneath the surface.

But you weren’t ready to let it all out just yet. So, instead, you forced a smile, picking up your chopsticks and shifting the conversation to something lighter. "Well, for tonight, I’m happy with this."

Sae smiled back, clearly relieved to see you back to your usual self. "Good. That’s all that matters."

And so, you spent the rest of the evening talking about lighter things, but that one moment of quiet honesty lingered in the back of your mind, like a shadow that refused to fade. Sae Itoshi wasn’t just the guy in front of the cameras—there was more to him. And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, that scared you a little.

But for now, you were content. Or at least, pretending to be.

"hey," he said suddenly, his voice casual, but his gaze fixed on you.

he handed you his phone, and your eyes instantly fell on the screen. it was a picture. one of you at the museum, standing in front of a painting, completely absorbed in the art. the catch? it was from behind, just capturing the curve of your shoulders and the fall of your hair as you stared at the piece, the soft light framing your figure.

you glanced up at sae. "that's actually a good shot," you said, your voice soft, the usual sarcasm absent.

he softened, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "do you mind if i post it?"

you stared at the photo, feeling the unfamiliar urge to hesitate.

"sure," you said, your tone quieter than usual...

chapter 018 > here > chapter 020

taglist is open ! <3

back to golden hours, golden hearts

a/n: hi i'm back and i dont like this chapter bye

taglist: @darling-dearesttt @saeslove @yuukiririix @sof888a @beepbopzlorp @luvrrin @narcjsistx @catukin @megumismyhusband @morgyyyyyyy @levihanmyotp @kaz-0e @nensi @vaelils @loverryxx @kunascutie @swagkittybear @alexiaray @kaidostwin @black-swan-blog27 @syarc0re @vayahatesu @yangx2isawhore @pinkfqiry @treeguzzler @shumeow-h @modxbea @90s-belladonna @rory-cakes @sapph1r3x @yuiearyi @pctterheadd @thecallofmedusa @whisperofae @belovedfedya @anqelkoz @yukari1k @dontmindtheevie @pookalicious-hq @pan-kojiwa @spookysoowpprince @mivqko @chuuyalvover @viviinpt @h1sllvr @luvvmae @renchai @yourlocaleffy @x3nafix @saeglazer

164 notes View Post

ninrixs

1 year ago

Bakugou’s head pounded as he struggled to fit his front door key into the lock, roughly smashing it against the cold metal until it clicked. Practically falling into his house as he strumbled to regain his balance, fuckin’ dunce face and his happy hour strawberry daiquiris. He’d always told him that those drinks were the most lethal, the ones that would really get you in trouble.

He hadn’t planned on going out to celebrate his birthday, perfectly content with spending the evening at home cooking his favourite mapu tofu and watching reruns of the American All Might documentary; but instead he’d found himself at a dingy dive bar surrounded with all his friends who insisted on plying him with drinks. Practically groaning at the puppy dog eyes Kirishima had given him when he’d returned with a tray of shots, “You need to let yourself relax and unwind a little, Bakubro! It’s not good keeping yourself so pent up.”

And perhaps his best friend was right.

Collapsing onto his bed as he attempted to struggle out of his jeans, barely able to unbutton them before giving up with his chest heaving. For fucks sake, the room was spinning. It didn’t help that his cock was stood proudly at half mast, bulging beneath the denim and desperate for some sweet relief. He’d spent the entire day bricked up, and the alcohol had only worsened the sensation.

Bakugou unlocked his cellphone to check for the time, wincing when a bright 1:49AM flashed across the screen. But even more glaringly obviously was the influx of notifications that had caught his eye, a multitude of them replying to a post that in his drunken stupor he hadn’t even realised he had sent.

Replies:

Reply from @kweenkatsuki-fics just head, king?

Reply from @kingkatsuki who knew Dynamight was such a slut?

Reply from @saturnsorbits thought you said you weren’t that desperate, huh?

Reply from @bakugotrashpanda video attached, hit me up

Reply from @strafepanzer anyone will do huh?

Reply from @katsukikitten picture attached, location shared, cum here

A Bakugou Birthday Bash Collab!!!!! A mix of smut and crack fics we've whipped up and hope you enjoy! Please be sure to check back for the fics on the mentioned blogs! Fics will be posted around Bakugou's birthday! 420 blaze it 🍃

Intro written by @kingkatsuki

1K notes View Post

ninrixs

2 months ago

𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

request; Hello I was wondering if you could do a Liam Mairi x reader where involving the side-effects of having bonded mated dragons pair so they absolutely go feral with eachother while using the prompt "That's it, fuck, that's a good girl."

synopsis; you and liam discover the trouble with mated dragons when you wind up in his bed. hidden feelings threaten to come to light.

pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader

warnings; smut (18+ only), p in v, soft sex w feels

word count; 2.6k

Reaching out blindly until your hand snags against the soft fabric of Liam’s sleep shirt, you take a shuddering breath as a surge of arousal locks you on the spot, every muscle coiling tight when you press your forehead to the wall and tug him closer. His thighs are bare and they flex when he stumbles towards you, bracing himself by means of a hand either side of your head, corded biceps caging you in when a ragged pant rips through you and you grit your teeth.

“Easy,” he murmurs, though his voice is strained, the veins that wrap the lengths of his forearms like vines protruding from the creamy skin. You suppress a pathetic little noise that bubbles from the base of your throat, tipping your head back as Liam’s hand makes contact with the skin there. “Shh, shh.”

“Li-“ you whisper through gritted teeth. “I need you to tell me to go away. I can’t- can’t control myself.”

“No-“ he says, quickly – too quickly, desperation lining his every syllable. You’re all too familiar with the feeling, the panic that seeps into his voice at the prospect of you leaving in search of another man’s bed. He’s not too proud to beg you. “No. Stay, please.”

The thought of you leaving is near unbearable now he’s close enough to touch you — feel you. Close enough to smell the shampoo in the wisps of hair that fall around your flushed face, close enough that the scent of you cloys in his nostrils and throws all inhibitions out the window.

His body presses against yours and the contact sets every nerve ending you possess alight. You tremble when he glides steady fingers - much steadier than you’re feeling right now - over your half-bare shoulder where your t-shirt has slipped downward, coming to a halt over your skittering pulse. His head falls forward into the juncture of your neck.

“Fuck.” His voice is rasping, barely there in your ears as Deigh does something Áine particularly likes and a crusade of need slams through him.

You thread your fingers through the blond tresses that tickle at your skin, pointedly ignoring the obvious disparity of your bodies, how his dwarfs your own, the way it makes your head spin with the need to get closer, to claw your way into his skin and feel every inch of him.

“Liam,” you whine softly, arching into him as those thick arms twine around your waist, pulling your torso flush to his own. He squeezes you, hands slipping beneath the t-shirt you’re clad in, palming and groping at every bump and ridge, every hill and valley of flesh he can reach. He ventures lower; your fingers tense where they still lay in his soft hair, and when his palms flatten and tap firmly at the backs of your thighs, you know what he wants.

You oblige the clear instruction, pushing yourself up from the balls of your feet until you’re in Liam’s arms, legs looped around his waist and ankles crossed at the base of his spine. Your back hits the wall as he surges forward to nose at your jugular. His lips part, tongue flicking forward to lave at your balmy skin. As his head dips, trailing a hot, wet path of half moons in the wake of his lips, you shudder.

“I know, my girl. I know,” he coos, sympathetic. His words slur and jumble, each sound melting into the next as though he’s drunk from the feel - the taste - of you alone.

The pet name would be enough to have you melting with affection under usual circumstances— now, it’s enough to have you whining, craning your head to slant your lips hungrily over his own, uncaring if it’s messy or filthy or downright sinful. Your only mission is to feel him, to get closer, to roam every inch of him with your ravenous tongue and teeth and lips— greedy for his touch.

If anyone were to walk in they’d certainly blanch at the sight; you pinned against the wall closest to the door of Liam’s room, his eager fingers splayed over your ass as you breathe into each other’s mouths. You’re unconsciously grinding down into him in quick, fervent bursts, and he reciprocates the movement appreciatively, letting you slide down the cold wall until the thick length of him presses to your wet cunt— hindered only by the fabric of his boxers and the lace of your panties.

The material is almost translucent, soaked through with your arousal. Liam coos something sympathetic that you can’t quite decipher for the fog that clouds your every nerve ending, for the hand that slips between your bodies until his thumb is rubbing tight circles into your swollen clit through the ruined fabric. Tears burn at the backs of your eyes and you tremble round him, the pleasure everything you need and somehow nowhere near enough, all at once.

“Shh, shh,” he murmurs. “‘ve got you, angel. ‘S okay.”

You gasp wetly against his kiss-bitten lips, the only warning you give as you begin shuddering against him, your climax ripping through you before you even have time to think. Everything is so sensitive, every brush and graze of his skin against your own amplified tenfold— it’s too much but still, you greedily accept everything he’s willing to give you, teary eyes trained to his throat that works around a swallow as he watches you cum with heavy lidded eyes. Babbling around a sob, you part your lips from his in favour of sinking down into the juncture of his neck, your hot cheeks searing against the cooler skin that greets you like a soothing balm.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

“Liam,” you hiccup, grabbing large fistfuls of his t-shirt, the flimsy material the only thing that separates you from miles of toned skin and muscle. That lopsided grin cracks across his face, a dimple cratering onto the centre of his cheek as his teeth flash in an amused smile; his chest heaves, even more so when you slip your hands underneath his tee to palm at bare skin.

Setting you down on shaking legs, his hand encircles one of your wrists and tugs, leading you until you’re perched at the edge of the bed. He turns, elbows flaring wide as he pulls at the neckline of his shirt and drags the material over his head in one fluid motion. The planes of his back are bared to you, each individual muscle rolling and moving with one another as though they’re cogs in a well oiled machine. You want your mouth on every inch of that skin– no corner, no crevice left untouched.

And then he’s on you, prowling with a predatory glint in those cerulean eyes as his pupils swallow the bright hue of his irises; all he sees is you– the way you shrink and tremble at the fervent way he surveys you.

A wide palm slips beneath your own tee and curls around your ribcage, frantically rising and falling with every laboured breath. He shucks the fabric upward to expose your soft breasts to the cool air of the room, and watches with rapt fascination as your nipples harden into peaks under his attention.

You shift until you’re propped up on your elbows to allow him space to discard the item of clothing, complying when he nudges you until you’re flat against the mattress, legs hooked over his hips. Your head turns, face burning at the wolfish way his eyes rake over you, a great contrast to the flattened hands that scrub sweeping lines over the tops of your thighs to soothe your nerves.

“Don’t hide from me, angel,” he murmurs, folding at the waist to smear a kiss against the curve of your jaw. His next words are a rumble against your skin that seep into your pores, into your very bones. “If it gets too much for you, all you have to do is tell me. And we’ll stop. Okay?”

His cadence is low and rasping, and the feel of the bridge of his nose pressed to your cheek sending a wave of affection through you that knocks the breath from your lungs. You nod.

“Words, sweet girl.”

“Okay,” you croak.

“Good girl.”

Your pussy aches with a sharp throb when he reaches down to press his thumb back to your swollen bundle of nerves; you whine, hips canting up into his touch unconsciously as he slips the wet material down your legs and discards them somewhere behind him.

He presses a kiss to your tummy, your knee, your ankle, and then pushes your legs up and back until they’re folded atop your chest. You gasp when his warm breath fans over your bare sex.

“Liam.”

“I know, angel,” he grunts. His voice patters out into breathless silence as you part your thighs, splaying a hand across his thrumming pulse to wrench him upwards and towards you. He doesn’t resist, putty in your hands. Absolutely, wholly yours.

“Please,” you whisper; his nose brushes yours. “Need you.”

He parts your lips with his own, slaking his hunger on you. He revels in every noise he pulls from your slick lips, every whine and gasp and plead for him to give you what you want. He swallows them all greedily and when - and only when - he’s decided you’ve begged him prettily enough, does he free his weeping cock and line up with your entrance.

He sinks in slowly, every thick inch of him splitting you wider than the previous. He’s thick, cock twitching against your cunt as the flushed head practically begs to be buried inside of you. The colour bleeds from your knuckles as you clutch his biceps, leaving crescent moon indents in the wake of your cruel touch; he hisses, and when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he sweeps down again to press wet, ardent kisses to your face and neck. He hooks your legs up against his hips, pulling back to rock back into the tight clutch of your cunt with slow, rhythmic movements.

He hits every spot inside of you without trying, the spongy head of him rubbing continuously over a particular spot you haven’t discovered yet; it has you keening, sobbing out a broken moan against his balmy cheek as he coos gentle praises against the shell of your ear.

His entire focus is fixated on him desperately trying to not blow his load at the first feel of your cunt clasping him, breathing deeply through his nostrils as he props a forearm either side of your head.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he gasps, picking up his pace as your enthusiasm starts to peak, your shaking fingers tangling in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Your body arches beneath him, head tipping back when a soft whine spills from your swollen lips.

The lewd sound of slapping skin and heavy breathing encases your senses, drives you further to that edge that you’ve been aching for since you entered the room.

He’s so beautiful like this it sets you alight with adoration— and arousal: blond hair mussed and falling over his eyes, face flushed as he dips down to brush his nose with your own, plush, pink lips parted into a gasp when you clench around him.

“‘M so close, Li,” you croak, tightening your fingers where they’re carding through his hair.

“I know, angel. I know.” Deft fingers slide between your bodies as he works over your clit rhythmically— sweeping movements that alternate between tight circles and up and down motions as he places pressure on that bundle of nerves.

A sweet, quiet little gasp spills from your lips, and Liam doesn’t miss the way you tense, clinging to him harder as you shatter.

He coaxes you through it, movements never slowing as you ride out your peak, whining against his lips when he swallows your sounds with his mouth.

He doesn’t stop until you’re squirming and writhing beneath him, kicking your legs feebly to push him away; he shudders at the movement, back bowing in the centre until he’s spilling into you with a groan. He braces himself with his head buried in the juncture of your neck, arms hooking around the base of your spine to hold you flush to him.

You both collapse in a haphazard mound of limbs and you roll onto your side to face Liam, his cheek still pressed to yours. He brushes the bridge of his nose along the length of your cheekbone, his smile imprinted into your skin as you hum and needle your way closer into his chest.

You don’t know what to say— neither does he. This silence is comfortable regardless, the gentle, lulling energy encasing the pair of you in this bubble.

He brushes a stray lock of hair from your sticky forehead, smearing a kiss along the crown of your skull. Your lashes flutter, body soft and lax against his own as you greedily seep up his warmth. You’re weightless, your head pleasantly blank when he pulls the blankets over you, pressing a final kiss to your cheek before he’s pushing himself out of the bed and to the bathroom.

There’s some shuffling and then emerges seconds later, clad in a clean pair of boxers and clutching a t-shirt for you to take. You’re still how he left you, laying on your side and dozing, cheek smushed against the back of your hand.

“C’mon, angel,” he murmurs, hooking an arm beneath your shoulder to hike you upright, handing you the tee; you rub at your heavy eyes with the backs of your fingers, swiping the fog away. He settles himself between your legs to clean you up, swiping a tissue between your thighs.

“You don’t have to do that, Li,” you croak. “‘M okay, I’ve got it.”

You make to loop your fingers around his wrist to halt his movements, but he only tuts and swats your hand away with a smile. Affection rises in your chest, hot and fast and blinding.

“I’ve got you, my girl.”

There’s that name again. My girl. You’re melting, sure you’re nothing but a pile of mush following those two little words; he surveys you with those cerulean eyes, laced with nothing less than adoration.

“Liam,” you whine, protesting.

“Oh, hush.” He presses a kiss to the curve of your kneecap before pushing the blankets back over your legs.

You pull the oversized tee he’s pushed into your hands over your head appreciatively, resisting the urge to bury your face into the fabric and inhale at the scent of him that cloys the room, that swirls around your face in tantalising tendrils.

You love him, you realise. The admission isn’t terrifying as you thought it would be, but rather a calm wave that washes over you and grants you a newfound clarity. You want this all the time with him. You want everything.

The bed dips as he returns to your side, an arm around your waist until you’re both propped against the headboard, your face resting in the dip of his collarbone. You feel his cheek pressed to the top of your head.

Your chest feels as though it might cave in at any moment, the sheer volume of love you hold for this boy too much for your body to hold onto. You brush your lips against his shoulder, blinking slowly in your haze. The rumble of his laugh carries right down to your bones.

“You’re beautiful,” you mumble, already half-asleep.

“You’re more beautiful,” he whispers back as though it’s a secret. Private words shared between the pair of you, for no one else to hear.

You’re asleep before you can respond, draped lazily over his torso. He shucks the blankets up until they’re covering you right up to your shoulders. Your nose scrunches unconsciously.

Fuck, he loves you.

2K notes View Post

ninrixs

2 months ago

"𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡"

dating rumors immediately started going around after influencer and model! reader and pro soccer player! isagi yoichi had taken a picture together at one of the athlete’s recent matches.

of course, it all started with isagi admitting on an interview with a popular late night show host that his celebrity crush was you. after all, he loved how you laughed a lot in your videos, and also had a wonderful smile. not to mention you were drop dead gorgeous, no wonder why you were the face of popular designer brands like van cleef, louis vuitton, christian louboutin, and chanel!

the two of you began talking after the clip went viral and caught your attention (you had been tagged thousands of times by your fans, a lot of them in ship edits of the two of you). however, it was nothing more than friends until the athlete invited you to his soccer match against the infamous manshine (manchester) city.

isagi’s team proudly claimed victory thanks to his many assists and final goal, but it seemed that the sole picture of the two of you that you posted on your instagram went more viral than the football club’s win.

both you and isagi’s PR teams were stressing about what to do with the media, and it didn’t help that you replied to a comment saying “i sense a WAG 🤭” with “it’s not like that 😔” to which many people replied: “watch, this won’t age well” and boy were they right

just a month later, isagi had posted a picture of him wearing a clean white-collared long sleeve shirt that wrapped around his muscles well, along with a designer belt and black pants. he appeared to be sitting in a chair, but what caught everyone’s attention was the red lipstick kiss stain left on his neck. the caption didn’t help either: “okay so we’re not just friends”

his fans immediately left to see your page, and your fans immediately left to see his page after your instagram post: a picture of you with a black dress and white bag, wearing red lipstick, the same shade on isagi’s neck.

the top comment? “this is what i call a hard launch”

a/n: i’m still thinking about when i called my guy best friend ness on accident because his first name is alexis and he looked at me like 😐

header credits go to mendokucha on twitter!

1K notes View Post

ninrixs

2 months ago

Liam ”It‘s been. My honor.” Mairi

3K notes View Post

ninrixs

10 months ago