f0rin

[f0rin]

Foreign Temptations

-------------------------------------------------------------- hi!!! i have no idea how tumblr works at all and this is my first post but anyway have some sae not understanding what love is itoshi sae x reader --------------------------------------------------------------

You were warm; warm against his skin, his touch— his body. The flutters in his stomach made him frown, and the silent pleas of want prompted him to cringe. Turquoise eyes narrowed with the familiar feeling of indecision— question. There’s an unmistakable yearning to feel you more, explore you more; delve into the surge of heat that tingled from your feathery touches when you traced his skin, body shivering in an ecstasy that wasn’t adrenaline. He was entranced by an emotion he didn’t quite understand.

 But he wanted to.

 His fingers hovered over your hair, eyebrows furrowed in an uncharacteristic uncertainty, something that became common around you– the hesitance, the wariness. The acceptance. He found himself disliking it. Heavily. He didn’t have the time, you weren’t supposed to be a priority. Itoshi Sae was an egoist, carved into a player who danced with the deck of opportunity— a playmaker of the game. Doubt wasn’t in his arsenal of cards, a feeling he long ago cast away. But not with you. He couldn’t predict you. He couldn’t analyze you. He couldn’t withdraw himself from you. The sleeping figure curled into his side, being one of the rare things Itoshi Sae found doubt in.

 And it was undeniably exciting.

 Fingers gently met your hair, careful digits tucking back the bangs sheltering your eyes. A test of the new territory, an itch to his curiosity. You were pretty. Pretty like this. Pretty with him. Head on his thigh, body relaxed with the blanket of sleep, an enchanting serenity painting your features. The back of his knuckles stopped beside your cheek– your vulnerability was a daring invitation he wavered to accept.

Sae didn’t know how to regard you— or think of you, or what to entirely even do with you. He only understood one thing— he was only sure of one thing: football.

And you were not football.

 You were an anomaly to his status quo, a foreign rival to his norm that made him hungry and challenged and soft. You came bearing gifts of intoxicating emotions he couldn’t comprehend, but found himself chasing like a high. Maybe he’d confront you about it later.

 Or maybe he wouldn’t.

 He probably wouldn’t.

You’d have to take the first steps for him.