dvmbification

[dvmbification]

isagi yoichi was a loverboy through and through.

his sweet nothings weaved from honey.

his favorite cheap cologne.

his warm, strong arms that held you ever so gently in the middle of the night.

his wide smile whenever you made something for him.

his favorite movie constantly playing on his phone.

the only thing he ever talked about to the media being you.

always mentioning you or posting about you on social media.

lying in bed at night and telling you about his dreams.

the small sprout atop his head that you loved poking and making fun of.

how he always fiddled with his fingers whenever he was nervous.

how he always laced his fingers through yours on a cold winter day.

his sapphire eyes that glimmered and brightened up your world.

but now you lay in your bed, tears stinging your eyes, and choked sobs escaping you every few moments. the bright screen of your phone refused to dim even after minutes, almost as if it were mocking you by constantly showing the reason for your anguish.

im sorry if this message is random, and im even more sorry for doing this, but we have to break up. playing and living in germany is way harder than i ever thought, and this relationship has been distracting me for a while now. again, im sorry for this, and i really hate to do this. i just need to focus on my career more - yoichi.

god, how you hated this.

the worst thing about isagi yoichi having been a loverboy was the fact that you could still remember being loved by him.

his sweet nothings rang in your ears.

his stupid cheap cologne lingered on your furniture for weeks.

his warm, strong arms that were missing from the cold nights you slept.

his wide smile that was gone when you accidentally made another portion of your food.

the music and visuals of my neighbor totoro on his phone nowhere to be found.

his interviews with the media becoming more bland and monotone.

his social media practically inactive.

his dreams and aspirations no longer lulling you to sleep.

the small sprout atop his head that he was once so proud and fond of combed down aggressively by isagi after the breakup, him refusing to answer any questions about it.

the fiddling of his fingers happening more and more often.

your hands being brutally affected by the lack of usual warmth on a cold winter day.

the sapphire glow nowhere to be found in your life.

maybe this would have all worked out in another life where isagi wasn’t famous, where he didn’t have a work in the entertainment and sports industry. after all, for the rest of his life, isagi yoichi never once found a new lover, never once found himself in romance or sex scandals, and never once even involved himself in any more romance, not even going to his teammates’ weddings.

isagi yoichi was the ultimate loverboy after all.

[dvmbification]

Pros of reblogging:

You get to keep a copy of that post FOREVER. Tumblr is not like Twitter in that if OP deletes the original post, all the shared versions of the post will be deleted as well. This is how Tumblr still has posts from 100000 years ago circulating around.

You get to classify posts with your own tagging system. It makes finding things easier. Searching a blog using tags is also more reliable than searching with keywords.

You get to leave comments in the tags of the reblog! It’s handy when you wanna react to the post but are too shy to talk to OP and/or others in the reblog chain.

You get an archive/scrapbook of all the things you like, which you can then showcase with pretty custom themes.

You get to identify as part of a community. Among fandom blogs, fellow fans will know you’re one of them if you actually reblog things. Any outsider can leave a like, but it takes a fan or someone really interested in something to dare to reblog.

You get to make friends! People follow other people based on what their blog is like. If your blog is empty, then what’s the point of following you?

You give the impression that you care about what other people say, and it will make others look at you more nicely (empty blogs can be suspicious).

You are less likely to be blocked by artists/writers. (I’ve seen some posts from artists/writers saying that they’ll block spam likers.)

You are less likely to be mistaken as a bot or a creep (again, empty blogs are sus).

[dvmbification]

today i wrote zero words! but i did think about my story twice in passing. that probably counts for something

[dvmbification]

ISAGI YOICHI can sometimes be the meanest guy on the field, but once all is said and done, he’s putty in your hands.

your sweet boy just gets a little determined and focused on winning, that’s all. he wants to play his best performance, and he’s often seen barking orders at his teammates and well, tough love is a stretch.

once the whistle blows, he comes running over to you in the stands, pulling you into a tight hug. he’s hot and sweaty, but his lips find yours like second nature, crashing against you with an intensity that knocks the breath out of your lungs every time. your knees are knocking against the barricades matching the blue of his jersey, but you don’t relent, hands cupping his cheeks in kind and pulling him even closer.

more than an outward public display of affection, he needs the passion and the fervent love that only you can offer in this moment, to match the all-consuming emotions and high of the match and ground him, coax him, ease him back down to his roots, and calm the fire that overtakes him in those ninety minutes.

a key piece to the player that he is, is you.

taglist. open (link to form) @standcom @returntothefae

notes. i wrote this in 15 minutes immediately after i woke up it felt like i was possessed

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[dvmbification]

Hierarchy of Intimacy (Chapter Isagi)

Synopsis: You both always had a friendly competition about who would score higher. With bets, you turned it into an unforgettable date. Making him fall deeper in love know more about you. (Teaching them your hobby)

Tags: Isagi Yoichi x gn!reader, academic rivals trope, reader can crochet, fluff

Author notes: this is a series based on a trend of tiktok. characters that will be included is nagi, yukimiya, rin, chigiri, isagi, reo, kunigami, sae, and bachira. If you want to add a character, you can request with a prompt :)

Your rivalry with Isagi was legendary, even amongst your closest friends. It wasn’t that you two didn’t respect each other—it was the opposite.

You both thrived in this competition, where each new test and assignment became a battlefield of grades. Who could outscore the other? Who would come out on top as the reigning academic champion?

But, secretly, both of you enjoyed it more than anyone could guess.

It wasn’t all about winning; it was about proving to each other that you could excel—and sharing that little joy after each victory, no matter how small.

As the grade results for the latest round were due to be released, you exchanged the usual look with Isagi.

The moment you could feel the nerves about to strike, you leaned in beside him, trying to play it off casually.

"So… what’s today's bet gonna be?" you asked, your voice full of playful mischief as you nudged him in the side.

You knew he loved a good bet, especially when the stakes were high.

Isagi smiled, a confident but competitive glint in his eye. "Hmm, if I win, you and I are going to watch a soccer match together. Just the two of us—no distractions."

Your brows raised at his offer, but your lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Oh, you really think you can win this time?”

"I’m not thinking about it—I know I can win," he shot back with a smirk, his eyes glimmering with that competitive edge you loved.

You crossed your arms, pouting just a bit. "If I win, then you have to learn one of my hobbies. I’ll teach you something fun," you added, the excitement of the challenge already fueling your spirit.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Learn your hobby? You’ve got to be joking. What could possibly be fun about that?"

You chuckled. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it! Trust me, it’ll make for a cute date idea.”

“A cute date idea?” he repeated, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Hmm… okay, fine, we’ll make it a deal.

You exchanged a handshake to seal the bet, both of you secretly determined to come out on top, even as the playful rivalry unfolded.

There was something oddly reassuring about this; it was as if winning or losing didn’t matter, as long as you were sharing it with each other.

The days leading up to the results were filled with nervous studying, half-joking barbs, and the usual flirtations between you and Isagi, each of you knowing this competition had become as much of a personal challenge as it had a friendly rivalry.

---

Finally, the day arrived. It was lunch break, and you could feel the excitement buzzing in the air as a crowd gathered around the campus bulletin board. Something important was up.

“What’s going on?” you asked, grabbing Isagi’s arm, leaning against him as you rushed over.

You weaved through the crowd, the energy at the board palpable, and soon enough, you realized what it was. Grades were posted.

You scanned the names quickly, fingers tracing across the list until you found yours, located at the very top. Your eyes widened. You had won this round! You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling brightly, feeling a rush of victory.

“Oh my god, I did it! I won!” you cheered, practically bouncing on your toes.

Isagi watched your excitement with a soft smile, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a way that made your heart flutter. “I guess I lost,” he chuckled. "You win, as usual."

You laughed, all smug now. "You’ll get ‘em next time! But, hey, I’ll be a good sport about it," you teased, giving him a playful wink.

Isagi raised a brow, the faintest blush appearing at his cheeks as you both walked off to figure out where your post-victory (and post-loss) plans would take you.

---

The weekend arrived, and Isagi came over to your house, ready to fulfill his end of the bet.

The scene inside your home made him pause in surprise as he stepped through the door. Balls of yarn, crochet hooks, and a tangle of colorful strings sprawled all over the table like an artist's mess.

“This looks… complex,” Isagi mumbled, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the chaos before him. “So, this is what I’m doing?”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. "Come on, don't act like you're not up for the challenge. The bet is, you and I both have to make a cat keychain and compare. We’ll see who’s better, and I’m guessing it'll be me." You grinned, both because of your playful challenge and because you knew, at least deep down, this would be fun.

Isagi sat down at the table with a deep sigh. "I’m gonna regret this."

"Not even, you’re gonna have fun," you teased, scooting closer as you pulled up the tutorial video on your laptop. "Trust me, this is easier than it looks."

But the moment the video started, Isagi’s frown deepened. "Wait, what’s ‘sc’ and ‘dc’? These terms don’t even make sense!" He huffed, clearly frustrated.

You giggled, your heart swelled as you leaned closer to guide him through the process. "It's okay. ‘Sc’ is ‘single crochet,’ and ‘dc’ is ‘double crochet.’ Focus, Isagi!"

"Ahh, I think I’m getting it…" he muttered. But as his fingers became tangled in yarn, he gave up with an exaggerated sigh. "You sure this is supposed to be relaxing? I’m losing my mind here!"

"Let me help you," you giggled softly. You gently moved his hands, showing him again how to handle the yarn and crochet hook.

As you showed him step by step, your eyes couldn’t help but soften at his concentration. His furrowed brow, his lips pursed in determination, and those dark eyes that kept glancing at you whenever you corrected him were enough to make your heart race, even if he didn’t notice the effect he had on you.

You kept reassuring him with each mistake, your smile never faltering. "Hey, it’s fine, you’re getting the hang of it!"

Every time you spoke, every time you encouraged him, there was a sincerity in his eyes.

And there, amongst the thread and chaos, you realized that Isagi’s quiet affections showed in the little things—the soft looks he threw your way, the subtle praises he muttered between his complaints.

At long last, after many tangled threads, you both compared your keychains. Yours was undoubtedly perfect, a sweet and small cat keychain you were proud of.

But when you looked at his, you couldn’t help but laugh—his keychain, albeit adorable, looked nothing like the cat in the tutorial. It was lopsided, a bit deformed, but somehow, it made him smile sheepishly.

"This… is not a cat, huh?" Isagi groaned in defeat, but you could tell from the look on his face that he was proud anyway.

You picked up his clumsy keychain and attached it to your bag with a smile. “You tried. Besides,” you added, gaze meeting his, “it’s cute. Just like you.”

Isagi blinked, eyes widening as your words took him by surprise. “What?” he asked, voice suddenly much smaller than before.

"You made it for me. I’ll always think it’s cute."

Something flickered in his chest—a deep, fluttering feeling that he wasn’t used to. You, with your words and your warmth, made everything about the moment feel a little bit more profound.

Without even realizing it, Isagi pulled you into an embrace, burying his face into the curve of your neck.

“You really might be killing me with that cute stuff,” he muttered quietly, his arms wrapped securely around you as his heart pounded loudly in his chest. "It’s not fair. How are you this cute?"

You softly laughed, your hand on the back of his head as you squeezed him tighter. “Maybe it’s because you keep pulling me into adorable hugs.”

You kissed the top of his head, your lips lingering just for a moment, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

"I’m grateful for every time we bet, every moment like this," you whispered, brushing his hair back. "This is everything I could’ve asked for."

A genuine smile spread on his face, his heart blooming with affection. “You really do know how to make me feel like the luckiest guy."

Isagi’s arms tightened, and you felt so at peace in that moment. The fact that you’d shared this silly bet, these laughter-filled challenges, and now this sweet moment of connection—it felt like the perfect win.

Not because you had the best grade or crocheted the perfect cat, but because you were together in something so simple.

"Guess I’m the one getting the perfect score in this relationship," Isagi said teasingly, raising his head just enough to meet your eyes.

You smiled back, brushing his bangs gently away from his face. "In everything, Isagi," you said, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “you’re my perfect score."

And with that, he grinned like he had won a million times over.

[dvmbification]

siiiigh. sorry for not posting anything :< i keep on dropping my works waaahahahahahhh... BUUUT,, you CAN expect me to drop a link to my newest kaisagi (i was convinced about them after they teamed up) fic sooner or later.. hehe..

i will still write x reader works tho. obvi!! x reader w my favs has a special place in my heart...

[dvmbification]

isagi yoichi was the love of your life.

he made you laugh. he always seemed to know exactly what to say at the right time. he wasn’t particularly assertive, but he didn’t let himself get tossed around either. he was always smiling. he never judged based on appearance. he always made you feel safe. your heart was kept safely in the palm of his hands, always and eternally kept from being broken ever again.

that was until he left for blue lock.

he had changed. he was no longer soft spoken and kind. he no longer knew how to keep your heart safe anymore, and yet he still kept it, never giving it back. he was closed off. he only cared about soccer now. you had finally decided that if he wasn’t going to return your heart, then you won’t use it anymore.

isagi yoichi was the loss of your life.

you were his, but he wasn’t yours. it was only temporary, and yet you expected for it to last forever. only the savoring taste of cotton candy in your mouth before it unnoticeably melts away rapidly and permanently. you both never technically broke up, only that eventually, after around a month or so into the neo egoist league, he slowly stopped texting you. you realized quickly that he must be too busy to have a lover now, and so you called it off in your mind, not wanting to bother him with a text of breaking it off.

eventually, you went to college. you bought a new phone and got a new number. you claimed to have moved on from that fact that you practically dumped a world famous soccer player, and yet, whenever your roommates had a soccer match with isagi in it on, you always caught your eyes drifting to the tv, despite your constant remarks about not being interested in soccer. your eyes couldn’t help but soften whenever isagi smiled at scoring a goal; it was reflex already.

you missed him.

you missed your yocchan, the one who you met on the playground at age 4, the one who you always had to do homework for because he constantly forgot, the one who always told you how pretty you were with a grin, the one that always held your hands in his to warm them up on a cold winter day. you wanted him back. you wanted your yocchan back.

but it would be too late now, right?

how wrong you were.

playing for bastard münchen in germany filled isagi’s schedule hastily. soccer practice, 3 meals, fan meets, and a scarce amount of free time that he uses to learn german. learning german was the worst part; he knew that he could just use those language translating earbuds, but he wanted to at least make an effort for his fans. but the difficulty with german wasn’t the best part.

isagi had asked yukimiya to hide his phone somewhere so that he wouldn’t get distracted from training. he was going to text you a quick note, but was distracted by noa speaking to him. after finishing their conversation, yukimiya had already took isagi’s phone, so isagi had no time. he decided to tell you after the neo egoist league, hoping that you’d understand. but when he texted you again, you didn’t respond.

and the time he texted you again the next day.

and the time he texted you again the day after that

and the time he texted you again after that.

and again.

and again.

until he finally came to the conclusion that you must have thought that you both broke up. but when he tried looking for you, you were nowhere to be found. he had missed the entirety of his 3rd year of high school for soccer the the u20 world cup, but that also meant missing you for a whole year. he couldn’t move on; he didn’t know how. you were the stabilizer in his life, the one who he loved. the one who he always thought of.

and now he couldn’t even contact you.

but his worries will soon end.

clutching the ticket in the palm of your hand, you wondered if you should even be here. but you already flew to a whole other country just for this, so it’s way too late to back out now. your eyes wandered to the massive stadium towering over you, taking yet another breath before stepping in. your roommate had gotten herself tickets to the bastard münchen versus manshine city match, but then she realized that she had school that day, and that she couldn’t go. she reluctantly gave her tickets to you instead.

meaning that you would see isagi in person again today.

okay, okay, maybe he won’t see you. maybe if he does, he’ll just ignore you. maybe he won’t care. hell, maybe he’s moved on already and is dating someone else. you made your way to your seat, knees bending to slowly drop to the seat. you waited for the match to start, and when the two teams came out, you tried not to search for the familiar patch of dark blue hair. key word: tried.

indigo hair suddenly clouded your vision, and isagi was there. right. fucking. there. your ex-best friend. your ex-lover. your ex-everything. suddenly, your chest tightened, and a lump formed in your throat, your eyes stinging. he’s grown just a little bit, and yet he looked so much more mature. you knew that you should relax: he was even your boyfriend anymore. and yet you still couldn’t help but feel heavy when the loss of your life is right there.

isagi scans the crowd, indigo eyes wandering side to side. he expects for himself to just see the same cheering people as usual, there to hype him up, but not this time. his jaw goes slack, and glimmering sapphires under the brightest of sun and stars seem to replace his navy eyes.

it’s you.

you’re beautiful. you’ve matured. you grew out your hair. your cheeks glowed pink in the cold winter air. fog escaped your lips when you exhaled. and you were looking right at him. isagi stays like that for a few moments, his eyes only looking at you, before kurona pulls him away from his schoolboy crush looks.

you hoped that you would never have to experience that again. was he still in love with you? you never thought of that; you thought he’d be secretly dating some idol or something. but the look in his eyes when he stared at you suggested differently from what your original thought process told you. after the match, you hurried out, begging that you’ll be able to exit the stadium quickly.

maybe isagi yoichi was the love of your life after all.

[dvmbification]

…..and what is it that ur planning toni woni

:3

a little something something featuring isagi, nagi, and rin ^_^ miiiiight post it later or tomorrow tho hehe :3

[dvmbification]

i am.. plotting something very sweet for valentine's day...

[dvmbification]

HIIIII FOLLOW MY COUSIN (>_<) 💌

❝ 繁栄への欲望か、栄光への焦燥か ❞

ASTER!! , ( the best mika fan in existence btw ) --- MIKA KAGEHIRA (nonsharing) YUMEJOSHI , minor , filipino (tag/eng ✓) , any prns are fine !! ・・ self indulgent blog btw (mostly me yapping about mika but i'm way more active on insta) ♡♡♡

LINKS : ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ carrd ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ pinterest (archive) ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ instagram promo post

꩜ ( >> below : fandoms n music !!! ) ・・ dni if under 12 , mika fans , basic crit.

FANDOMS (ASK FOR MORE) : ensemble stars (obviously) , alnst , vocaloid , csm , persona , illusion carnival , omniscient reader's viewpoint , yansim , danganronpa , idv , pjsk , nso , ddlc , class of 09 , blue lock , hoyoverse , omori , marvel , bsd , death note , evangelion , ohshc , furuba , musical theatre (in general)

MUSIC (ALSO ASK FOR MORE...) : deftones , the smiths , the cure , nirvana , radiohead , goo goo dolls , queen , the script , foo fighters , paramore , my chemical romance , the strokes , green day , oasis , blink 182 , guns n roses , tame impala , avril lavigne , fall out boy , smashing pumpkins , red jumpsuit apparatus , pierce the veil , muse , the killers , rhcp , coldplay , panic at the disco , joy division , blur ++

[dvmbification]

" this one's for you !? " ft. isagi yoichi

ever since middle school, you had a best friend who stayed by your side up until now—and that boy was isagi yoichi, a diamond in the rough, who was so close from becoming the top striker of all time, who just needed a little push and polishing—so you gave him that first little push he needed.

"hurry up, yoichi! let me see!"

"are you serious? you know what this means, right!?" blue lock? it sounded genuine, so you cheered him on to participate in this somewhat legit project. "come on, you should go!" "alright, alright. but.." his sheepish grin slowly turned into pursed lips of doubt. "will I ever see you again?" what kind of question was that? "obviously! i'll see you on the other side." you wink at your best friend, smiling as wide as you could.

the loud booming voice from the speakers announces the next player of the blue lock eleven.

"and #11!" his name is called, and your attention was caught, interest piqued. it's him—your best friend—the boy you've been waiting to see again since early highschool. he enters the stadium, taking the view of over thousands of people in the crowd surrounding him, hoping you were in it, watching him closely—and watching him closely you were.

the game felt long, like, really long. on the edge of your seat, you were kept on your toes, fully invested in the last few minutes of the game.

this is it—the clock was ticking, one more goal from the team you were rooting for with all your heart—the blue lock eleven—and they would break the tie with U20. but who would score the winning goal? the itoshi brothers battling to the death to take the ball for themselves was all you were focused on.. one last goal..

and in the blink of an eye, your childhood best friend, isagi yoichi, the same boy you pushed forward since middle school to become the greatest striker in the world—had somehow been keeping his eyes on the ball this entire time, foreseeing the future before him and where it would land—in this case, right where he wants it to be—taking his only chance to score a goal. and with a stroke of luck..

he scores.

3-4. holy shit.

"and with a devastating direct shot, #11, isagi yoichi—has brought the blue lock eleven to victory!" you scream louder than anyone near you, and while you received a few looks of worry or second hand embarrassment, you couldn't care less. he just scored! the crowd applauses, chanting his name—similarly to his teammates, who quickly gathered around him, celebrating their victory as a team. after a while, isagi was dragged into an interview—being broadcasted on television, and the huge jumbotron in the stadium.

"here he is, everyone! the blue lock eleven's isagi yoichi, who scored that dramatic winning goal! we would love to hear your impressions, now that the game is over." isagi's eyes wander around, just realizing the pressure being put on him at the moment. he rubs his thumbs together, palms growing clammier than ever. "i—uh." you giggle a bit at him choking on his words, bringing your hand to cover up your snickering.

"i.. i'm.. happy. super happy." he feels a pang of embarrassment strike through him, but that's what you get for giving such a pathetic answer—it was cute, though. "we've observed that you have the chance to become the U20 representative today," he gulps, awaiting the interviewer to continue his sentence. "what are you looking forward to next?"

you could notice the way he straightened his back, strengthening his stance. "..win." you almost burst out laughing, but anticipate his full answer. "the blue lock eleven.. will win the world cup. all of us—no, that's not right." the world feels quiet at this very moment.

"i.. will bring japan a U20 world cup victory."

and the crowd roars.

"what a bold statement from blue lock's hero!" "now, isagi yoichi, who would you like to thank especially for the person you are today?" his eyes light up at the thought of you. you, the girl he hadn’t seen with his bare eyes since long ago.. he could envision you in his mind, smiling as wide as you could.

"i'd like to give my thanks to my parents, who have supported my dream of becoming the greatest striker in the world.." isagi's hand finds itself rubbing the back of his neck. "my teammates and opponents, who have shaped me into the player i am right now.." he looks around him to search for the girl he's missed oh so dearly in the crowd who was carefully watching him and his words. "and the love of my life. my best friend, who gave me that final push into joining blue lock—if it weren't for her.." and at that moment, you swore your eyes met each other. you stared deeply into his eyes, full of yearning for you, to see you once again. i might cry, you think, as thin lines of your tears cascade down your cheeks.

"i wouldn't be here in the first place." it feels like time had come to a stop. he finally finds who he was looking for, you, in the crowd. directly looking at you, he smiles as wide as he could.

© dvmbification ( formerly dumbification ) . do not repost or recycle my work.

[dvmbification]

isagi yoichi.. isagi yoichi... isagi yoichi.... isagi yoichi..... isagi yoichi...... isagi yoichi....... isagi yoichi........ isagi yoichi.........

[dvmbification]

PLEASE, GIRL, YOU HOLD ME NOW ft. sunday

( synopsis ) you don’t love him anymore, and he knows that himself. but whatever he could do to make you stay, he’d do it, as he needs you so much–needs you like oxygen. he might just lock you up in a pretty cage, pretty enough to match your face, to keep you safe with him forever.you're his love belt, and you know that yourself.

( tags ) sunday x fem!reader, slight angst, mild ñšfw, böñdágé kîñk, vöÿéürîšm, he ćümš in his pants, fîñgérîñg, possessiveness, one sided love, sunday is a weirdo, lots of angsty pining, sad make out session

( wc ) 2.2k

( toni's note ) repost again again again!!! this work is one of my favs so far.. I edited and added a bit btw !! gift for @nvuy :3 LOVE YA LOTS, MISAAAA !!

with the tall, stained glass window left open, a calm breeze enters your room. the soft moonlight brightens the place, and bounces off of your skin. this is it, you’re staring at yourself in the mirror, in your white nightdress, unsure of what you’re even doing. it’s weird, isn’t it? you were so infatuated with sunday, harping on about him to everyone you came across, anyone who even mentioned his name. but now, here you are–preparing yourself and your belongings, to flee this mansion of his, and the grasp of someone who was once your lover–at heart, at least. you’re startled at the sudden but gentle knock at your door. the very door creaks open to reveal a groggy sunday peeping through the cracks. fuck, he shouldn’t even be awake right now. “my dove, where have your things gone?” he croaks, rubbing one of his eyes with the back of his palm.

“ah. i’m just.. rearranging my room.” it hurts, it’s your first time lying to him, ever. you hope he was tired enough to have whatever you said slip his mind, but he saw right through you and your words–and you’re pretty sure you know that yourself. he frowns. “then, may you explain to me why all of your things have disappeared, even outside of your room?” he crosses his arms, and that’s when you both knew that you fucked up. maybe, just maybe, you could save yourself right now. “about that,” you kick away the suitcase which laid beside your feet. “i’d just like everything that belongs to me, y’know, inside my room–” “don’t lie to me, love.” he looks away to focus on the unholy amount of luggages and cases behind you. welp. as he takes a few steps towards you, your legs start to quiver in fear. the silence that follows pierces your ears, leaving you practically deaf.

and before you know it, he’s inches away from your face. “you know what i can do, right?” you hesitatingly nod your head, knowing what he’s capable of, and knowing that he can get anything out of you. “then why should i have to get it out of you, before you tell me yourself?” there’s genuine hurt in his eyes, and it hurts you even more. “i—i don’t know.” you choke out a pathetic response, throat already closing up and eyes swelling with tears threatening to fall down. “please.” he’s about to fall on his knees. you've made up your mind, and with a heavy heart, it was all or nothing. “sunday,” your voice falters. he focuses entirely on you now, wiping the tears building up at the corners of your eyes. “i don’t love you anymore.” his stare widens. “say that again, dear?” he sounds distraught, unable to believe what you said just now. your lips purse, unable to let those five words slip out again. “i don’t love you anymore, sunday.” his own throat closes up, speechless. he felt as though the world was caving in on him, his life crumbling apart. he never thought he’d hear that from you, little ol’ you, who loved him so dearly, and promised to do so until death. 

he chuckles a little, dryly, denying the bitter truth that just came out of your mouth. “you’re kidding. right?” his voice is cracking, the sorrow within him seeping out. his lips curl into a smile full of hope, hope in the fact that you’re lying to him again. but it pains him to know that you’re not lying, and it’s very much true, at the back of his mind, he could tell that you’ve fallen out of love lately. every romantic gesture or sign of affection he’d show every other while, would elicit nothing from you back. did he make you mad? or have you felt pity for his love for you this entire time? no, that couldn’t be. sunday can pull the truth out of anyone, but he’s never had to do it with you. you’re an honest, earnest person, and you both know that. it’s not like you to lie, so why would you? “right?” this time, his voice has a threatening tone to it, chilling you down to the bone. he cups your face to look you deep in the eye, looking for just one yes, somewhere inside there.

“i’m not kidding.” you gently push him away, telling him for the nth time, that you really don’t love him at all anymore. “then what’s next?” sunday reaches out to hold your hand, now caressing it with his thumb. “i’m leaving in the morning, with everything else.” your eyes avert his gaze, which you’re sure now hold a grudge on you. but he’s not like that–to hold a grudge on someone who once loved him, right? “no,” he smiles, a breathy chuckle leaving through his teeth. “no, no, no, no..” sunday brings his hands to his head. you feel a rush of fear down your spine. “you’re not going anywhere. you should know this.” at that moment, a sudden feeling of drowsiness hit you. feeling like collapsing, the world around you spins, and in a state of total relaxation, you fall to the ground–but before you reach the floor, sunday catches you as you faint.

—

after a while, you stir awake–and wake up to be inside a large, golden cage, adorned in jewels and gemstones. it’s magnificent–the moonlight shines on each singular gem, reflecting the colors onto your face. you try to feel your face, and around the cage–but your hands stay in place. you find yourself to be in a kneeling position and tightly tied up in rope–with your hands bonded together above your head–and ankles separated, tied to the bars of the cage you kneel in. it’s an uncomfortable feeling, even your waist is tied back to the cage. you struggle and panic in place, unable to slip the rope off. “it’s no use,” sunday mutters, walking towards your helpless figure. “even if you found a way to untie yourself, you wouldn’t budge an inch, anyway.” you grunt and whine, doing your best to even move a muscle, but to no avail. 

“let me go.” you pleaded on your knees, quite literally. but he denied each and every one of your empty promises, promises to stay. “i know what you’re thinking–again, don’t lie to me.” “get out of my mind.” you hiss, tears threatening to break and fall down your face. he can’t promise that, as you can’t promise to stay no longer anyway. “please. stay here with me.” he sounds mad, furious, even–but he treats you so gently–each time he touches your face or hand, he does it with such care, like you’re glass. it pains your heart, knowing the anger and sorrow he holds deep inside him, but he still handles you so carefully like you’re the most delicate of porcelain dolls.

his eyes flicker at your neck, covered in marks he believes he’s never left. an empty feeling fills his gut, he feels sick to his stomach–knowing that someone else has touched you. practically crawling to you, he proceeds to leave trails of gentle kisses along the crook of your neck. you silently plead for him to go on by craning your head to the side, giving sunday more access. “why..” his voice rasps, shaking uncontrollably. you let it go, and start to sob out of sympathy for the man. “i’m sorry.” “no you’re not.” but you know that he knows, that you’re telling the truth. you truly feel sorry for him, and you show it through your heavy tears, rolling down your cheeks. 

“don’t cry, my dove.” he says so softly, with no sign of anger this time. his thumb reaches up to wipe away the tears which stain your face, while he continues to leave small bruises and bites on your neck. “can you tell me why you don’t love me anymore?” “no.” even through knowing your mind and thoughts, he couldn’t find out why you would fall out of love, either. “do you even know?” his want to know about this was genuine. “..no.” you sniffle and hiccup.

“how do i make you love me again?” 

“i don’t know.”

 “can i..” his words trail off, but you know what he’s talking about. “please.” he unbuttons your nightdress, slipping it down to your hips. you can see it in his eyes that he’s disappointed. “how do you not love me,” your waist spasms as he traces circles right above your cunt. “when you’re this wet?” you couldn’t help but arch your back and whine as his other hand traced your spine, sending tingling sensations down it. he purposefully avoids your wet cunt, even your breasts, as he carefully feels around your body, barely brushing his fingers across your skin. it’s so sweet–it’s sweet how delicately he handles you, how he softly speaks to you, but it feels like torture–it felt torturous how forgiving his touch was, or how he was telling you your own thoughts, nitpicking at your own lies to him, to yourself. “can't..can’t help it..” your breath shakes and falters as you weakly smile.

sunday pulls away to take another look at you. it's perverted, degenerate, even—his thoughts bubble up like freshly popped soulglad, thoughts of how tempting you looked in the state you were, and thoughts of how badly he wanted to give in to those temptations. he's biting his lip, gritting his teeth, wiping away the sweat on his temple. how irresistible you were, always.

he unbuckles his pants to pull it down and push it aside, to reveal the very visible bulge in his underwear. “you wouldn’t mind?” he shifts his head to give you a pleading look. and as weird as it feels and looks, you let him. he groans, rubbing his palm against his clothed cock, circling his thumb at the tip. “i love you.” he repeats, on and on. you wish you could help him out, but all you could do was watch and grind your hips against the floor in desperation as he pleasures himself. this was also torturous. “c-close. i’m close.” in minutes, he finishes in his boxers, shooting his load inside not you, but nothing, this time. his dick twitches and quivers, softening up.

he moans. “you don’t know how much i love you,” bringing his hand to handle the bars of the cage behind you, he brings his mouth to your ear. “and how much this hurts me.” he lets go of you, and for the first time in a while, you see a few tears roll out of his eyes. the swelling of your heart worsens at seeing him cry, the pounding reaching your throat. “do you believe me?” “i always have.” you sniffle. you know that he believes you deserve a more harsh punishment, but he could never bring himself to it–just the thought of that makes you want to cry even more, because you know he loves you far more than you love him.

“you deserve worse."

“i know.” you weep.

with ease, sunday slips off his gloves in mere seconds, then lining his fingers up at your entrance, teasing your wet folds. your hips buck towards him, trying to get more friction in between your thighs–and he pushes them in. his fingers pump in and out, deep inside, buried inside your pussy. you moan and whine, still loving how good he makes you feel. “do you only love me for this?” “i.. i don’t love you at all.” you cry. well, now you’re just lying to yourself. sunday brings himself closer to your face as he continues to pleasure you, seeing every part of your face twitch in satisfaction.

his eyes flutter down to your lips, and lightly pecks them–those small pecks turning into long, passionate kisses. with a furrowed brow from all the pleasure, you give in and kiss him back. your tongues tie and twist around each other, eliciting moans from one another. tears continue to drip down your face like a continuous babbling creek, dribbling down your cheeks, all the way to drop from your chin. he kept on thrusting his fingers up your cunt, until you came all over them. waves and jolts crash and strike through you as you ride out your orgasm on his digits. he pulls away, both his fingers and lips, to see how pretty the view was—and how beautiful the moonlight looked on your face. “you’re beautiful.” you look down, averting his eyes full of sorrow. “stop.” you might as well close your eyes shut—as he could just make you look up. but he could also just make you open your eyes, there’s no winning here.

you’re forced to look back up at him, chin pinched between his index and thumb. the prolonged eye contact was nerve-wracking. “i’ll let you go.” “what? no—i’ll stay.” sunday rushes in to embrace you, it was uncalled for. even after what you just did together, it seemed weird to you to be this close after everything you had told him. “i don’t think you mean that.” he’s persistent on this, whether you’re telling the truth or not, he’d ignore it. “i really do.” your words seem truthful, laced with falseness. still caught in his embrace, you nudge him away the best you can—but he won’t let go, he needs you so badly, needs you wrapping him up from head to toe.

“oh god, i love you.” you blurt out randomly. it was then when he let go. he almost collapses after hearing what he was longing for from you, even if it were fake. you pant and sigh in between kisses, unable to catch your breath. “you mean it?” “..yeah.” maybe he could ignore the truth behind your lies for now, and bask in the bliss of your false affection, if it means you’ll stay with him forever.

@ dvmbification ( formerly dumbification ) . do not repost or recycle my work.

[dvmbification]

PONYBOY ft. boothill

( synopsis ) it's pretty unprofessional to mess around with your work partner on the job—but a single ride, just for fun, wouldn't hurt.. ..right? (｡•̀ᴗ-)

( tags ) boothill x fem!reader, ñšfw, co-workers, alcohol, oral šéx ( m receiving ) cowgirl position, tit play, spanking, clothed šéx, photography of said šéx, under the influence

( wc ) 2.2k

( toni's note ) so uhh. yeah. dumbification is GONE kinda gone. welcome back?? i'll be reposting my recent works over here.. feel free to send any questions in my inbox or dms... boo fucking hoo to me!!! .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·.

“you can’t just boss me around!” he cackles. “then can you do me one last favor, pumpkin?” 

“fine.”

you step outside to leave the cockpit, in search of something boothill had assigned you to look for. it was said to be inside a red crate, so it must have been inside the storage room, right? you eventually find the said crate after about ten minutes running around looking for it. the phrase ‘special supplies’ is plastered all around it. After taking a look at what’s inside, you find nothing but a flimsy looking camera. well, you thought it was flimsy. you boot it up, introduced to a high quality opening animation on the screen. not knowing how to navigate the camera, you press and play around the countless buttons on it, and one of them initiates a flash. a small film prints out the image you just took. this must be what boothill was looking for, so you take it back to him.

“perfect, we’ll be using this for the.. documentation of our mission.” he smiles as he gently handles the camera, careful not to break it. “we’re not gonna.. fight anyone?” boothill shakes his head. “come on. I was prepared.” “better luck next time! hah!” he cackles. “well, look at that,” you look through the window. “we’re here.” brushing the dust off of your pants as the gates of the ship open, a ramp slowly settles into the ground. “alright, where to?” “nowhere but forward.”

so you may have gotten lost in the middle of nowhere. it felt like days on end, days of you and boothill searching for the town you were supposed to look after. the eternal scorching heat of the sun pricked at your skin, covered in a thin coat of sweat. you looked like you’ve seen the end of it all, while boothill barely broke a single sweat, he looked untouched–unscathed. “don’t you have some GPS device installed inside of you?” your brows furrow and eyes squint. “I’m a cyborg, not some multifunctional home device.” you groaned, but momentarily let out a small gasp. “i can see it.” your hand grasped at what seemed to be nothing as you collapsed to the ground in victory. “see what, the light?” you wheeze a simple no, he turns to see whatever your hand could possibly be pointing to. “holy shirt. we’re actually here.” a cluster of buildings could be seen in the distance. “finally!” you almost sobbed.

“that feels amazing..” your parched throat cleared up after a few desperate gulps of water. “just what i needed.” boothill heaved, placing a now empty whiskey glass back on the bar’s counter. “boothill,” he looked in your direction. “we should be settled in a hotel by now.” you yawned. “come on! let’s have a little fun. you drink, don’t you?” he said, handing over a glass of whiskey. you hesitatingly took his offer, taking the shot. you eventually loosen up and get into it,

It was hours and hours of talking, full of random conversations, and small talk. you would mention whatever crazy thing you thought of, paying no mind to what your sober self would say about these decisions. It was until you acted out one of these crazy thoughts of yours. “and then i–hey, sugar, what are you doin’?” his eyes were open wide in genuine curiosity and shock, at what you were doing right now, and what he knew you were about to do. you leaned forward to feel around his chest, one hand tugging at the zipper of his jacket, and the other leading up to take his hat. you slowly take the hat and place it on your head–all while keeping your eyes on the cowboy. “sugar, i don’t think you know what you’re doin’. you know what this means, right?” he looked eager himself to grant what you wanted–but now and here was definitely not the time and place to do it. “oh, trust me,” you bring your face closer to his. “i know. please.” boothill’s eyes soften, bringing himself to whisper in your ear. “not here. come with me.” your eyes widen as he sweeps you off of your seat with a single arm, carrying you bridal style. “here’s the money, sir. keep the change, thank you kindly.” 

he grabbed your things with his free hand, and took you to a small, local inn in the town. you grew impatient at boothill, who did his best to be as quick as possible–practically throwing money at people instead of paying them properly, like the bartender or hotel concierge, without a care in the world. he had one thing in mind, and it was to get the two of you some privacy–for what was to come. the door behind boothill–who was still carrying you–had closed shut. “boothill–” you yelped as he dropped you on the bed. “eager, aren’t we?” your words slur. he turns to you with a dark look in his eyes. “you made the move, don’t you want this more than i do?” well, he was right. the two of you have been waiting for this for a while, but it was mostly you who subtly pushed the idea onto him. he always played around it, but now was truly the moment for him to take action on it. 

his eyes flicker down to your lips, giving you a hint of what he’d do next. he hesitates for a moment, but soon gets into the sensation of kissing you. It was slow and sensual, tongue massaging the other as lips crash into one another. you break away to catch your breath.

despite being so eager and hungry like some dog moments ago, he surprisingly took things slowly. he kneeled down and folded his body to meet yours. feeling around your clothed body, his hands patiently explored the planes of your abdomen. little shivers would send down your spine when his fingers would brush against the more ticklish parts of you–particularly near your already wet heat. he’d bring his hand to play with one of your tits, as he kissed around where he pleased, palms kneading the flesh and fingers toying with your hardened nipples. they were sensitive, and you knew that. but you didnt know they could get this sensitive–especially when they’re not even bare. “i need more..” you bite your lip, rubbing your thighs together to compensate for the lack of friction between them. 

while he mindlessly grinds the mattress beside you, he slips his hand underneath your blouse, to have his cold metal thumb to play with your stiffening bud. boothill’s eyes blow wise after a moan slips out of you. wanting to hear more, he climbs on top of you to rut into you instead.“may i?” you nod, and he slips his other hand to play with your other, neglected breast. as you pant and mewl, he nudges you to the edge, grinding his hips into yours fervently, brushing his fingers against your nipples with a steadily quick pace, and lips travelling down from your mouth to suckle at the crook of your neck. 

you whine as he sucks harder and harder, leaving small, dark bruises. “h-hey.. stop. it hurts.” and he does. he pulls away and licks his lips, thumb brushing them right after. “sorry, sugarplum.” his words start to slur as well, his southern drawl thickening. “wait, did you really–”

“i did. because i care, hon.” your heart pounds and melts into mush at his small but meaningful words. but well, now you didn’t want to stop. you pull him up by the collar of his jacket to turn him around and push him back down. “may i?” he pleads a yes, and you then hurriedly unbuckle his belt to slip it out, and pull his tight leather pants down to reveal the very evident tent in his boxers. It was soaked in his arousal, which you knew was synthetic–but it still amazed you, knowing how detailed his anatomy was constructed to be. you slip his boxers away to see his erection spring up. you felt a wave of fear crash through you. how is this thing gonna fit? you shake away those useless thoughts and test the waters.

you experiment things you’ve thought about on him, starting by lightly stroking his dick. he brought his palm to cover his mouth, and squeezed his eyes shut–to prepare himself for whatever you had in store for him. “what, do you not like it?” you ask with genuineness. “n-no. i love it..” his face flares up in arousal, a deep blue appearing on his cheeks. his sensitivity settings must be high. your tongue flicks at his tip, then swirling your tongue around it.  you attempt to take him in his entirety in your mouth, just to further lubricate him. but to be honest, it was pretty difficult to take more than half of his cock inside. 

his dick reached the back of your throat by now. your head sloppily bobbed up and down, wrapping everything around him until you reached the base. he groaned and covered his mouth again, to suppress his whimpers and moans. “oh fork me.” you pull away with a pop, and start to unbuckle your own pants. 

“whatever you say.” hearts practically carved into your eyes, your face showing a newfound kind of love for him. your trousers are pulled down, with your panties pulled to the side. you drag his cold and hard tip along your folds, teasing boothill. “do you like it like this?” you ask, continuing to rub your pussy along his tip. “as long as it’s you.” he would always sweet talk you just for the sake of sweet talk, but now it feels full of love and genuine care, it was like sugar. “stay still, sugarplum.” he fixes his hat on your head as it threatened to fall off.

“now, i think you should stay still.” you drop your hips without warning and snuggly wrap his dick with your warm walls. you groan in unison holding onto each other for dear life. his hands reach to grab your ass, smacking it firmly seconds later. you squeak. “ride like there’s no tomorrow, baby.” boothill glares with lust and love in his eyes, staring you down. you slowly move around his cock, grinding against his hips to get into motion. slowly but surely, you began to bounce on it, a wet smacking sound filling the room. with each thrust after trust of yours, he bucks up his hips to hit that spongy spot inside you. your arousal squirts everywhere as you  squeal and scream his name endlessly. “that’s it, babygirl. keep going.” he spanks your ass again, having you squeak and throw your head back.

he pulls the camera from earlier out to take a shot. “smile!” the camera’s flash lights up the dimly lit room for a second, and reflects on your skin–which was coated in a thin sheen of sweat. boothill took a few more pictures, of your fucked out expressions, or crazy angles of you bouncing on his cock.

“i’m–i’m gonna come.” tears roll down your face, which are soon wiped away by boothill’s thumb. he hums lowly, telling you to go ahead. you yell out his name as you cream all over his dick, cum slowly dribbling out. his own climax follows after yours, and babbles your name drunkly. as you both come down from your highs, he comforts you as you sob and cry through it, waves and bolts of pleasure crashing and striking through you. all this tension between you two had finally been broken, and this might have been your best orgasm yet.

you languidly grind your hips against his, riding out your high. “ready for round two?” his hand rakes through your hair. your eyes light up. “hell yeah..” you were ready for another go, but your body said otherwise. you plop down on top of him in defeat. he lets out a soft laugh. “It’s alright, sugar. don’t sweat it.” 

you raise your hips up for his still hard cock to pop out. boothill turns you around to pepper you–and especially your neck, in small pecks and kisses. you pull the hat on your head to cover your flushed face, but he pushes it back up to see you again. “I might just give this to you, you look good with it on.”

“you know,” he says in between kisses. “i’ve been waiting to do this with you for a while.” “really?” you coo. he hums in response, continuing to adorn your neck in loving marks. “i’ve just been.. waiting for you. I want to respect you and your decisions as much as i can.” “are you serious?” he paused to look at you, waiting for what else you had to say. “I’ve been hinting this at you for months..” nonetheless, your heart practically melted at those sweet words of his. he chuckles softly. “well, we both get want we want now.” “yeah.” you gently cup his cheeks as your forehead touches his. you both giggle. 

“by the way, can i see the photos?” you’re curious about the shots he took.

© dvmbification ( formerly dumbification ) . do not repost or recycle my work.