#submerge and awaken: sae
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saetiate · 4 hours ago
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itoshi sae x f!reader smut, reader's mad at him for the media reporting he's dating someone else and he fucks you like it's an apology
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“you know what they’re saying? ah-, about you and that girl?"
your voice is filled with malice even with his dick so far up inside of you that you can feel it in your throat, even with each gasp that leaves you as he slams into you hard, his hips meeting yours again and again.
truthfully, he doesn’t. he didn’t spare the article more than a glance. what some bullshit reporter chasing a title for cash said has never phased him.
he grabs you gently by the chin, fingers wrapping around either side of your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “if i fuck you on the balcony and let everyone see, would that satisfy you?” the way he thrusts into you doesn’t falter once, even as he presses a hungry kiss to your mouth, teeth nipping at your lower lip, breath ghosting over as he speaks. “then everyone will see i’m yours.”
you jerk your face out of his grip, eyes sharp. “the only thing they’ll see is what a fucking womanizer you are, you asshole.”
maybe they will, maybe they won’t. but he can feel the way you’re gushing around his cock when he mentions it, wetness seeping down to his balls, glints like moonbeam. he presses a thumb to your clit and watches your back arch into a crescent moon, always so responsive to him.
“please, please please —,” your voice comes out so wrecked it has him taking in a sharp breath. even as you hate him, slap your hands against his chest as you tell him exactly that, “i hate you i hate you,” followed by please, please.
if it was any other day, if it wasn’t truly his fault for even allowing himself to get photographed standing just a little too close to someone that wasn’t you, he might’ve teased you for it. made you beg even more, cooed at you for being so needy. but it is his fault, so he relents. gives you exactly what you want, circles your slick pearl and fucks you so hard the words you say turn into nothing, until the way you hit his chest turns into your nails scraping over his shoulders, down his back.
he watches you as you come, has to, with tears on your lashline and a high pitched whine. at least this way, he knows the tears are a good thing, that he’s fucked you right.
(he doesn't let himself come, considers it some kind of penance, like it might be the thing that sways the guilt that eats at his heart.)
“you’re so pretty.”
“fuck you,” you spit. “this doesn’t make us even.”
he grabs you by either side of your thighs and slams you back down onto his cock with a scream.
“yeah,” his hand presses against the headboard above you, until the wood creaks down with his weight, his warmth radiating against yours. “i got that.”
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saetiate · 16 days ago
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with you, my heart-known home.
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itoshi sae x f!reader smut tags: afab reader, established relationship, oral f!receiving, praise, p in v, fluffy domestic sex. genuinely no warnings, just full of love from him to you. dirty talk except it’s sae so it’s His Version of it ahaha. he gets hard when you say i love you wc: 3k
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He's staring at you.
A grueling six weeks, a flight, and a shower. It's nothing new, he's the one that told you not to wait up.
But seeing you asleep in his bed after all this time makes his cock twitch in his shorts. He groans to himself, wiping a hand down his face.
Only you would have this effect on him, heavy on his heart, imagining your pussy around his cock when you're right next to him.
Whatever. He should probably get some sleep.
He wraps the blanket around you both, takes the extra time to make sure you're properly tucked in, before wrapping his arm around your waist. Because he did miss you. It's clear in the way he squeezes you tight, presses a kiss to your cheek. You smile in your sleep as if knowingly, tucking his hand into your chest.
What does it say about him that he feels himself get harder at the sight?
He leans his head down into your shoulder. Fuck, you're so warm. You smell like you and the bed and he can't imagine anything sexier. Like home, in a way no other place has truly been.
You turn to him, still half-asleep. He really, really, didn't mean to wake you.
"I know, baby," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Welcome home."
He doesn't really understand it when he's with you, doesn't try to either. Because now you're here, and he's pressing his body over yours, kissing you in your sleep-laden state. He's filled with something deeper than desire, heavier than love, more pulling than devotion. He presses kisses down your neck gently, his hands at your thighs, moving up to your waist, pushing your shirt up so he can feel the plush flesh there, everywhere.
"Sae, Sae, baby, aren't you tired?" you cup his face in your hands, soft skin under your fingertips, half-hooded eyes staring back at you. "You just got back."
He stops at that, his own breath coming heavier than he'd like to admit. "Are you tired? You don't have to do anything."
Your windchime laugh muffles against his chest, makes his heart flip-flop like a fish in the cavern. "If you want me, you can have me. In whichever way you want."
In whichever way you want. A dangerous offer, for a man like him. He’ll take you up on it, again and again and again. He'll have you, completely.
You kiss him like that, with a softness that he thinks must come naturally to you, with the way you wake up everyday just to blanket him in it. Sae adores it, feels a twinge of guilt with the way he wants to devour it. Lips move into tongue that move into teeth, nipping at your lower lip. His hands know your skin, they feel like they’re covering you everywhere, hot and aching as they delve under your clothes, up to your breasts, cupping them softly and running his thumb right over your nipple, swallowing down a gasp from you.
He only separates from you to look at your reaction, love-bitten lips with a sheen of saliva like gloss, eyes focused on him alone, how your chest rises and falls under his hands.
He takes your top off carefully, like a reveal, gaze stuck to you, tongue wetting his lips before he brings his mouth right to your sternum. He can feel the flutter of your heartbeat underneath, proof of you underneath him, proof of the effect he has on you after all these years.
"Pretty," he mumbles into your skin, both hands cupping either sides of your breasts. He tilts his head to the side, bringing one nipple into his mouth, his hand sliding under your back as you arch into it, fingers over the dip of your spine.
He takes his time, despite the way his cock throbs in his pants. "You're pretty."
You flush at the attention. "Sae."
He lifts himself up to pull your pants down and off, his eyes following every move, your exposed body beneath him in the dark of the room. It almost makes him wish the lights were on, so that he could really admire you, watch as he makes you squirm under his touch.
He'll do that anyways. "Stay still."
His arms wrap around your thighs, his hands lacing through yours over your hips — a gentle affection, like a ribbon wrapped around a present. And then his mouth is on you, kissing your clit first, then teasing you by bringing his tongue along one side of your slit, from the bottom all the way up until he's just shy of your clit, then repeating on the other side.
"Sae," you try again, breath hitching.
"Do you touch yourself when I'm not home?" He takes in the way your clit exposes itself past the petals of your folds, puffy and waiting, beckoning him like a ship to a lighthouse.
"Answer me." You can feel his mouth moving over your core as he speaks.
"I- sometimes?" You answer breathlessly. That grants you closer to what you want, the flat of tongue lapping over from the bottom to the top of your slit.
"What do you think about?" He's both relentless and holding back, too slow to grant you reprieve but too persistent with his tongue to let you properly think. A perfect balance that only he knows, that only he can sustain with you, that keeps you holding onto him like a lifeline.
"You. You, always you."
(He has to make you feel like this. It's the only way he can feel like there's been due diligence in your dynamic — you, finally knowing some part of how he feels. Like you own him.)
He hums in response instead, vibrations against your core, tasting each drip of wetness you give him, drinking you in.
"Like this," you continue. "I think of you like this."
Long laps of his tongue turn into kitten licks, starting at the bottom and working his way up. Every second he takes to get to the top feels drawn out, taffy being pulled until his tongue finally swirls over your clit, like burnt sugar snapping.
"Is it like how you imagined?"
"Better." That has a ghost of a smile forming over his lips, a little reward given to you for it with kitten-licks against your clit. "You're- Sae-," you don't know how you're supposed to hold a conversation like this. You try to thrust your hips to quicken the pace only to no avail, his grip tight on you, and even that has heat slinking through you.
"How." His tongue digs through your folds despite the question.
"Wha-" Another gasp leaves your throat before you can finish.
"How is it better." He wrings a whine out from you, pressure building inside you like a dam, his hot breath over your cunt as he speaks. "Tell me."
"It's- you do it slower. You're not in a rush. You take your time." The words race out of you in a single breath, all you're able to give with how quickly your mind starts to feel cloud-stuffed, devolving into whimpers and gasps, muscles in your legs wound tight.
He responds to you in the worst way, by slowing down. Bringing you to the edge only to keep you there, forcing every nerve inside you to feel like it's gone haywire.
"That's- Sae, please. Not- not what I meant." Your breath comes short, your whines filling the air, shaking in his grasp.
"Oh, no?" You swear you can feel him smirk below you, you look down to find that glint in his darkened eyes.
He gives in, then. He always does with you, inevitably, like how the tide moves with the moon. Presses your body down with ease before you can buck your hips, tongue lathing over your clit in circles and kitten laps until your hands squeeze his and your back arches. He moans into your cunt, and even that soft sound from him has you reeling closer, your clear effect on him makes you feverish.
"That's it," he rasps, a beckoning that you can't help but respond to. His mouth covers over your core, his hot breath and tongue an onslaught as you teeter towards the edge, your slick seeping into his mouth.
Just as you warn him you’re about to come, he slides his fingers into you, has you clenching around his long fingers and he tilts them up in a way that has you tensing even further and crashing down so fast, pretty noises filling the room as heat rushes through your body, your thighs clenching tight, your slick coating his hand.
He doesn't stop, even then, with your slick dripping down his chin. His tongue is relentless and unwavering over your clit, something you start to register slowly as feeling returns to you and your legs kick out uncontrollably. You're gasping into the air, every swirl of the muscle over the sensitive area is a pleasure that leaves you struggling to breathe, so sensitive that it's bordering on painful. His eyes smile with how cute he finds it, the way you thrash in his hold. There isn't a world where he doesn't let you bite into his heart and eat it raw. Your palm presses against his forehead, pushing him away with the overstimulation. He grabs at your hand, giving a wet kiss to the back of it.
"Good," he says it with a sigh of relief, like certifying something is to his satisfaction, pleased with your reaction to him, a hidden metric only for him to decipher. His tongue wets his lips just slightly to taste the rest of your essence, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. "Good girl."
That has you bringing a hand up to your face, hiding the expression he knows so well, only for him to catch your hands in his and press a wet kiss to your cheek, so cute under him that he can't resist this little act of affection.
He lets his pants drop, wrapping a hand around his cock, leaking with pre as the head presses against your core. His hands slide up and down the inside of your thighs, your supple skin giving way under his touch, pressing down and spreading them open wider.
So he can see, you realize. Watch the way you open up for him. You whine at him in embarrassment.
"Behave," he hushes with a pointed look that has you obeying without thought, staying as still and relaxed as you can as he pushes in. There's a pretty sigh he makes as your warmth envelops him, his eyes fluttering shut, looming over you and dropping his forehead to yours.
You're all pliant under him, ripe fruit his for the taking, leaking juices over his member. You claw at his shoulders, his name babbling over your lips over and over. Even with the way he prepped you, the stretch is still there. Nothing compares.
He slides in and out of you in short strokes, the fullness of it reaching deeper and deeper as each inch pushes into you, has you trying to remind yourself to take deep breaths. Until his hips meet yours, earning from you a desperate mewl.
"You're doing good," he presses a kiss to your hairline, chest to chest with him so you can both feel the way the other heaves. The validation makes your cunt flutter around him, opened up for him with a familiarity. Your slick coats his cock with a sheen as he pulls out and pushes back into you in slow thrusts.
"I think of you too." He tells you this as his cock presses impossibly deeper with each press of his hips.
"What?" You pant.
"When I'm away."
That does something to you, makes you leave crescent moon indents from your nails into his skin. "You should — ah — call, next time."
"Yeah? Why's that, hm?" His thumb runs in circles over your waist, a gentle gesture that makes your heart drip with your cunt as he's thrusting into you.
"Wanna- wanna hear you." You tell him this as he rocks into you over and over again, gentle and caring, full of his cock and his love all tied up in one.
Sae huffs. "You wouldn't like it."
"I- I like it. It's you."
"I'd make you wait." He emphasizes it by bringing his hand down between your legs where you're connected, tapping the pearl of your clit. "Make you touch yourself until you're begging to come."
He'd need to hear you beg. To know he has even half the effect on you that you have on him. To make sure you're as heavy with craving as he is.
"Sae," it's more a chant than a complaint, makes him want to tease you just a little more. But then your arms are wrapping tight around his neck, your ankles high on his waist and looping behind him.
"Missed you," you whisper right against his ear, your voice more pitched with each word. "Missed you so much. I love you."
He feels the swell of your words both in his mind and his cock. He can't process what this does to him. Makes his head so heady with lust, like being drunk from the sight and sound of you. He takes your hand in his, laces his fingers through. Kisses you chaste, a warning.
And then he fucks you hard. Until the bed shifts against the wall. Until your whispers and moans become sobs and silent screams. The tip of his cock brushes against your cervix on every other hit, numbing your mind completely. That's how he wants you. So dumbed out on his cock that you can't speak, can't think. So mindless below him that you only know him, feel him, need him.
He'd smile at the lack of retort on your tongue if he could. Instead, he finds himself panting through gritted teeth at how you tighten around him. He strains to focus past the feeling and on your voice, on the way you say his name over and over again, how your tone pitches higher, a sure sign of the wave that will overcome you both.
"Good, fuck, that's it," he can't deny your effect on him, not like this, not with your walls fluttering around him. But more than that, is feeling you. You in your entirety, your body against his, your warmth that he missed so dearly, your love that you encompass him in — the irreplaceable feeling that pulls him so much closer to the edge, so much faster than he can help.
"Good girl," he says it in lieu of something more, with a shaky breath and the stuttering of his hips. His fingers, coated with your slick, runs circles over your clit, pleasure hot in your veins. He swears again when he looks down and sees that foamed ring at the base of his member, how the honey-drip of your essence wraps around his cock in a gleam. It surges something possessive in him.
"Come for me," it's something between a command and a plea. Let me hear it, let me watch you fall apart under me. What is attention, if not some sort of prayer? All of his focus, of heart and of mind, is on you. Something like revelation settles deep in his mind, something so heart-known, as what he feels for you bubbles to the surface. "I love you. Come for me."
It's your undoing, a desperate whine, your entire body tensing, taut like a bowstring. He doesn't stop, never falters, not with how beautiful you look as your breath comes short and every fibre of your body only knows him. He whispers your name, as gentle as the rain, and you jerk up into his hold, gushing wetness around his hard cock, the fullness of it inside you so acute as your walls clamp down.
He's not much farther off after that. He has to watch you, first. Has to feel satisfied with the strength of the orgasm you give him before he's fucking into you again, fast thrusts that come with a swear, that follow with your name so pretty on his lips again, that has him spilling inside of you, his body shuddering with the intensity of it.
He stops himself short of collapsing completely on top of you, his hand resting against the headboard, the rise and fall of his chest against yours with every deep breath. His other hand cups right under your chin, pulling you in for a deep kiss, your cheeks slightly squished in his hand as he takes your breath and breathes you in all at once.
Your shaky legs drop onto the bed, gliding your legs against his and pulling him in close. He parts from you only to lay his forehead against yours, craves your closeness with a soreness in his chest that makes him hold you that much tighter in his arms.
The morning light starts to glide past the curtains, casts a halo around you, an angelic bloom, a sharp light-strike across the high of your cheek.
He loves you so much with no real way to describe it, no vocabulary that he has spent building up for this moment the same way he built his skills up for his career. He won't ruin this moment with you with some half-hearted effort at trying to process his feelings into a language. It is better, in his mind, to leave this untouched by words, to show you instead.
When he kisses you deeply again, it feels like a question. Can I tell you how much I love you, even without having to say it?
And when you kiss him back, pull him in closer, it's like an answer, knowing and bright as the light. I speak your language. I hear it from you everyday.
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author's note: hello, thank you for reading <3 more sae from yours truly. i wrote this with a lot of love and heart <3 i hope it comes across
the line "what is attention, if not some sort of prayer?" in this fic is comes from the poem gravity and grace by simone weil, the quote being "absolutely unmixed attention is a prayer"
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saetiate · 1 month ago
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one thing about dating sae is on really bad days you may sometimes feel he doesn't love you because he thinks it's so obvious the way he loves you. he thinks you already know completely and utterly because how could you not? his teammates make fun of him for being "down bad" for you all the time. he is so in love with you and he does not understand how you could ever think otherwise. telling him you want to hear the reassurance about it makes him sick to his stomach. did he do something? did someone tell you otherwise?
he cups your face in his hands. looks at you until you squirm under the attention, like you might finally reveal the answer if he can just find it.
"i love you." and then, "don't ask stupid questions." but it's genuine and it's true, like a soft bell that rings, struck right at the middle of the heart. he kisses you deeply, like it might etch into your brain. like he might be able to convince to you, like a whisper on the wind, to know it.
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saetiate · 1 month ago
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a shooting star in his hand - sae x f!reader fluff, first meeting, cafe meet cute
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He's been in line for 15 minutes.
Granted, it's not really anyone's fault. You, standing in front of him, have said your order with polite clarity, a gentle smile on your face directed to the barista in front of you that has "TRAINEE" on a metal plate. There's a woman behind her showing her how to steam the milk, telling her to put the bagel in the oven.
Learning takes time. Sae, too, knows this. Most people don't wake up with abilities built into them, not like his brother did the first time they played football together. Sae didn't. He held the ball at his feet almost as soon as he could walk. He let it eclipse his life, rotated around it like the earth does to the sun, until he knew it to perfection, to both creation and destruction.
But he'd appreciate if learning didn't happen when he was the only other person in line on his way to the stadium.
"Sorry about that." You're looking at him. Talking to him, he processes a little too slowly this morning.
He takes in your body language clinically, the way you're tapping your fingertips over the back of your phone case, your tilted head and nervous smile.
The fireburn of irritation behind his eyes falls immediately, like a weight dropped, and the calm lake of his usual demeanor returns. "It's fine."
That's the reassurance he's supposed to give, right? You turn to peer over the counter, and a keychain dangles from the zipper of your bag.
"Blue Lock?" He says it before he can stop himself, more shock than anything else.
"Hm? Oh!" You hold the keychain delicately in your palm, the glean of it catching the light the same way your smile does. "Yeah! One of the guys who was in it lives in my building. He was holding this whole box of merch for the anniversary a couple months ago? He handed me one in the elevator."
"You watch?" You're beaming up at him, but you seem more nervous about your food than you do talking to him. He's trying to see if…
"Oh, nah. I don't really watch sports. Do you?"
So that explains the lack of recognition. "I play."
"Oh! Football? Oh, that's hella cool." Words flow casually for you, an easygoing melody. "I always wanted to get into sports when I was a kid."
The cashier hands you your order with a bow of her head and an apology, and the payment barcode flashes on the screen. Before your bank app can even load up —
There's a beep, and you look up at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "Wha- That was my order!"
"I know." He doesn't even spare you a glance, looking directly at the cashier to list off his drink with a monotone cadence.
"Okay, wait, at least let me-" Your bag slides open over your shoulder, a shuffling that he inevitably interrupts.
"No need." It's tart, said with a finality that has you giving a resigned sigh.
"Well, thank you. Genuinely." There's a shift to your bag again in the corner of his eye that he refuses to acknowledge. "If you're not going to take my money, at least take this."
Maybe it's confusion or curiosity that has him finally turning to you, a closing distance that you cross between you both that he has every opportunity to move away from. He doesn't. Instead, he looks down to find there's a card in his hand, a sticky note on top with a number and a name.
"My personal number, if you're single. And my business card, in case you'd like that kind of favor instead." There's that sing-song voice of yours, gentle as the wind, more pleasant than he'd like to admit. "A nice gesture deserves one in return, no? Not sure if it'll come up, but if you ever need someone in this industry, I can be your girl."
Your voice wavers, he notices. Shakes but doesn't stutter. He meets your eyes, gazing up at him with something between both nervousness and surety, or maybe more like bravery despite fear. A vulnerability he never dares to share himself. But on you, somehow, he admires it. Finds it daring — to stand in a moment on shaky legs without a pre-calculated estimation of how it would go.
His girl. Something about it feels like a flicker of fire in his gut, the lap of a flame brushing against the bottom of his heart.
He pockets the note with a nod, grabbing his drink with one hand and rushing out the door with another.
(He calls, that night. With a restaurant in mind and a reservation in place. Sae doesn't believe in serendipity, in fate, in the idea that the universe would grant a prize to him in particular.
Maybe it's just pure luck, falling into place in his life. A shooting star he manages to catch in his hand.)
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author's note: thank you for reading and supporting me as always :)) a lil secret message here that i'll be opening requests via a valentines event tomorrow!! in precisely 16 hours from this being posted ahaha so if u like my writing please keep a look out for that!!
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saetiate · 2 months ago
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dec. 19 ✧ day six ✧ snowed in - sae x reader fluff
"Well, so much for going to that winter market…"
Sae has one arm leaning against the doorframe, the other he wraps around your waist as you approach to sigh at the heavy snow that traps you both in. His warmth protects you from the cold of the glass. It's natural, for him to protect you from the elements. He'd protect you from the world if he could.
"Did you really want to go?"
"Mm, it's just a thing for us to do together. We're always staying in, don't you think?"
He turns his whole body towards you. He does that often when you speak, like he might miss something if he's not giving you his full attention. He shrugs, looping your hands with his.
"Nothing wrong with always staying in. Besides…" he wraps two hands around your waist and lifts you up and over his shoulder, your yelp bringing a hidden smile to his face.
"Sae!"
"Hm?" He pats you on the butt, walking you both up to your bedroom. He won't say it, but he's glad for the pitter-patter of snow that drifts onto the driveway. He'd rather have your full attention anyways.
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twelve days of selfshipmas event thank you to the lovely tartagliove��for hosting this event! what a wonderful time. this is my first post for the event hehe
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saetiate · 1 month ago
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sae never asks you to stay. not because he doesn't love you, but because he does.
he knows, better than anyone else, what he lacks. how the words get caught in his throat before he can say them, how you make him feel something he can't truly comprehend to you. he knows what he can and can't provide.
so if you're truly, genuinely, able to find that somewhere else, with someone else… who is he to ask you to stay?
(you know. you know and you stay. because to be loved is to be known and you see him.
the way he holds you a little tighter before he has to leave the house, the way all you have to do is ask for something to receive it.
sae is rarely ever where he doesn't want to be. and he always chooses to be with you. that's what this love is — a choice, made actively, everyday.
i'm home. he says. i'm here. a stable pillar in this everchanging life.
it sounds exactly like: i love you.)
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saetiate · 1 month ago
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“what are you doing here, all by your lonesome?”
sae has his elbows on the bar, nursing whiskey glass in hand that looks entirely for show. even the ice ball within seems to click with disapproval.
“they’re loud.” the glass tilts in his hands, elegant fingers wrapped around, gesturing mildly to his teammates.
“and you’ve decided to, what? sit here all by yourself with those critical eyes, not saying anything at all? go girl, give us nothing.” sarcasm drips like the condensation down your own champagne glass, but when he glances at you, everything is lightened like effervescence with your playful smile.
”they’d be better players if they didn’t waste their time with this sort of thing.”
“would you say that to your brother?”
“i have.”
“wow, no wonder he turned out the way he did.”
sae almost frowns at that. what’s that supposed to mean?
he doesn’t get to ponder on it as you casually press your shoulder against his. he can feel your body warmth pressed against him so acutely. you act like it’s nothing. maybe it is nothing, to you. but it makes his heart do something he can’t explain.
you sigh, and even that feels soft to him. “just go talk to some people, even just for a bit. it’s an event.”
“you don’t like men who talk.”
you huff, lips upturning with your confusion. “what?”
“that’s what you said to oliver. you said — ‘i hate men who talk all the time on dates. it makes me want to ask them if they want my lipgloss too whilst they’re at it.’” he repeats your words in his own monotone voice, so flat that it would’ve made you laugh if it wasn’t for how you almost choke on your drink.
“you heard that?” the way you’re looking at him borders on incredulous.
he quirks an eyebrow. “you and oliver don’t talk quietly.”
“no, i mean — you remember?”
“i wouldn’t do that.”
“wha- what do you mean?”
he turns to you, his entire body language and attention on you for what feels like the first time throughout this whole conversation. it’s in this moment that you realize how close he really is to you. you can smell his cologne, feel his breath against your skin as he leans down towards you.
“if we were on a date. i wouldn’t do that to you.”
it’s now that he finally chooses to walk to his circle of teammates, who welcome him with a shout and raised drinks.
when he glances back, you’re so wide-eyed that he almost smiles behind his glass.
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saetiate · 1 month ago
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sae who likes it when you tell him about how your day was and every little detail about everything in that space between going to bed and sleeping because he finds your voice so soothing
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saetiate · 1 month ago
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itoshi sae x reader comfort, established relationship. cw: mentions of reader's past trauma and past physical abuse. reader has grown up with 19 years of abusive trauma (this is the only specific bit and is only said once, the rest is general). sae is aware of this trauma, so he does not have his usual possible 'cruelty' (shall we say) that you might associate with him depending on how you characterize him. he is trying on purpose for you. selfship coded but written generally
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a plate falls. a pang that for once, sounds soft, in a way it never has before. not like it did the first nineteen years in your life, making your heart jackrabbit, a deafening noise that followed a deafening silence that would follow with deafening screaming.
a plate falls from the side of the counter to the floor, you move but you don't catch it in time. you watch it tip and spin and fall and you know your heart is meant to fall with it but this time, the absence of it feels off. there's that silence you know all too well, a silence that would usually fill your stomach with dread, that you know follows with having you at your knees, bent over with pain shooting through your body over and over again, your crying body still staring at the broken fragments.
there's none of that. there is a hand, but it is nothing like the hands before. it is gentle at the crux between your neck and your shoulder. the squeeze it gives is comforting.
how strange, to be granted with something like that, something like comfort and warmth, for a mistake you made. how strange, that comfort can feel like a cut, something you know is inherently wrong — your brain mismatching the feelings given with the ones you hold.
you know, that being given comfort is not meant to make you feel this strange, curling feeling, like the fear of falling. it doesn't change how you feel. you know and you have learned and that in of itself doesn't heal anything. how messed up is that?
there's a shuffling, and then a paper bag is being given to you. you move, then, crouching to grab at the pieces. sae's hand waves in front of you for a moment. you don't know what he sees, you don't dare to look at him. you don't want to know if it's filled with pity, or disappointment. it's probably neither, given his usual nonchalant demeanor, but you can't risk it. you can't risk looking.
whatever he sees, he doesn't move to stop you this time (he has before. before, he has held your hands in his and asked you to sit down. before, you were a shaking rabbit in his arms with tears biting your lower lashline and a trembling lip. today is not that day. it's finally, not that day anymore). he helps you instead. there's a broom in your hands, and then a wet towel, and then…
and then the floor is clean.
"food's on the table." his voice is calm, despite everything. despite everything? what's that supposed to mean? why does a thought like that still cross your mind?
"that's what you were going for, right?" he continues. you're staring at the floor, where the plate had been. if you hadn't been, you'd notice the way he was trying to meet your gaze. "to put some food on a plate and on the table?"
"yeah. thank you."
"did you want a drink too?" he hums noncommittally. "i can make something."
"no, it's fine. i can do it myself."
i can do it myself. this time, you mean it. this time, it's really true. said with a kind of conviction.
he looks at you for a second, and then there's a gentle "okay."
"are you mad at me?"
you ask him this at the table, a whole ten minutes of silence after the whole ordeal.
"why would i be?" he tilts his head. that's the thing about sae, his words tend to be genuine. blunt, sometimes, but he doesn't tend to lie. when you look at him, you can find no hidden motives, no matter how hard you search.
"it's normal," he continues. he sounds like he's been thinking of how to say it, rotating the words in his mind like a hamster wheel. his mouth moves with unsurety, eyebrows furrowed, so foreign in comparison to his usual grace. "to drop things sometimes."
normal. you remember the bowl that sae himself had broken just a couple months ago, how it split into two pieces in the sink. how he had even given his version of a joke about how there's only one of these bowls left, because rin had broken the same one half a year ago when he came to visit, and you had broken that bowl over a year ago, the time he had held your shaking hands.
the meal finishes. he clears the plates and does the dishes. he sits with you on the sofa and you watch a show together.
there's no punishment. there's no yelling. there's a blanket draped over you both and his arm around yours and the afternoon sun.
normal, he calls it. but even after all these years, the warmth feels new to you all the same. there's an upside, of course. you find it like sunlight passing through the trees. that being: you're able to be grateful for it, to hold him close and bask in it.
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author's note: i thought about not adding the 19 years bit but... i couldn't phrase this in a way that made me happy without it.
wow, exposing my traumatic and abusive childhood to the internet. i was indeed in a cycle of abuse for the first nineteen years of my life, physical and mental and emotional and financial all at once from families to friends to significant others, and i'm in my mid 20s now. which means i've spent about 5+ years healing from that. i'm still healing. my heart does not drop at a falling glass anymore. but i notice how it doesn't drop. the absence of it. i wanted to capture that
(also i imagine a lot of people reading this don't know me like that but this is my first time talking about this. i don't want to be seen as having like a victim complex or something? i'm a very independent girl (i have a capricorn moon and rising if that gives context) and this is my writing blog where i am using writing to explore my feelings.)
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saetiate · 2 months ago
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christmas with itoshi sae <3 (sae x reader fluff)
Sae exhales. It's cold and warm all at once. He likes it this way, that there's cold and warm spots in the house. The chilliness of the kitchen means a warm drink is that much more satisfying. It also means, like a cat seeking comfort, he only has to look in the warm areas of the house to find you.
He holds two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands, brings one to you where you're sitting on the floor right in front of the fireplace, next to the tree you've both just finished setting up. He steps off his slippers carefully before stepping on the (freshly washed!) carpet. You hold your hands out in a grabbing motion that he can't help but find endearing. He thinks how he feels shows from the way you smile even brighter. Or maybe you're just really excited to have hot chocolate.
"Thank you, love." The throw blanket in your lap gets readjusted until it's your 'perfect comfy position', and he plops next to you with less grace than he usually shows.
There's a soft silence that pillows between you both. He watches you as you smile at the marshmallows bobbing in your cup, swirling them around to watch them swim before taking a sip. A whole one moves into your mouth with the liquid and you bite into it as you swallow.
"Don't choke," he tells you, setting his cup down on the coffee table an arm's length away, and you give your cup for him to do the same. That same big, eye-crinkling smile that makes the corners of his mouth turn up in return. You're staring back up at the Christmas tree, twinkling lights reflecting on the shine of your skin. You've gone for a warmer theme this year, soft yellow lights with red and white baubles.
"Are you satisfied with it?"
His voice has always been softer with you, though it took you a while to realize. Something between a gruff and a whisper. You turn to him with a beaming smile.
"I am." You take his hand in yours, and he pulls you in with it, wraps his arms around you and kisses your cheek, like a present being wrapped in the warmest ribbon. Tucks you into him and envelops you whole.
"My parents called to say they're excited to see you." He kisses your neck. "Even Rin is coming,"
You wrap your hands around his arms, strong muscle flexes and tense under your fingers. You giggle when his nose nuzzles into your neck and that's the last straw, he's flipping you over in his arms and pulling you both down until you're gasping a laugh and on top of him.
He likes it like that. When you're all over him. He cups your face to look at you, really looks. Something indescribable flits over his face, something like adoration and sweetness, but he doesn't give you time to truly process it before he's kissing you, grabbing your waist. He pulls the throw blanket up over you too, a candied consideration with a hearth-warm hold.
You press your face into the crook of his neck, his soap and natural scent is more home than you had ever expected. Chest to chest, you can feel his heart beating against yours.
"Merry Christmas, beautiful." His chest rumbles with the words, his hands brushing through your hair, a kiss pressed to your crown.
"Merry Christmas, Sae," you're face to face with him now, noses brushing. His hand is gentle at the nape of your neck as he brings you in for another kiss.
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other things you and sae do together for the holidays: ice skating at a local christmas fair, big dinners with both his and your family, night walks after eating in the chilly cold air.
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saetiate · 2 months ago
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dec. 14 ✧ day one ✧ preparing your home for winter - itoshi sae x reader fluff, blue lock. note: reader is close with her mother in this, and has some personality.
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"Cute." Sae raises a soft toy out of the box of them, squeezing its head in your direction as if it's nodding. You can't help but laugh at his nonchalant face whilst doing something so childish.
The box is full of them, never thrown out since the day you were born. It makes him about what you must've been like as a child. With a room full of stuffed toys, he imagines, from how many he's seeing in the box right now. Did you covet them, similarly to how you do with him now?
"I don't know what my mom was thinking, buying all of these for me." You sigh, sifting through them for a bit before shutting the box back again, a lift of dust catching the light like fireflies.
"She loves and spoils you. Are you sure you wanna throw all this out?" He gestures to the row of boxes lined against the wall.
You sigh again. You've done that a lot throughout this process, something like pain and grief and fatigue all in one.
"My grandmother was a huge hoarder. It might seem strange but… This is the best thing. The thing I've wanted to do for so long."
You take his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together. "Thank you for being here for me through this. The donations… it feels like a good thing."
He's never sure what to do or what to say when you get like this. Your heavy-heartedness, the sentimentality you hold. Sometimes, he can't believe that all you feel fits in your chest.
It must be heavy, he thinks. He loves you. He'll hold it with you.
He pats your head, and the way you beam at him makes everything a little lighter.
"You've provided so much for me, Sae," you wrap your arms around his neck. "You've given me so much. It feels right, to be able to at least give back a little." You stare out at the boxes, a nostalgic look passing over for just a moment. "This'll all go to homes. It's something my mom and I used to do together, give them out. She'd be happy to hear it's finally going to be of good use. I'll call her and let her know."
You've said this before, that he provides for you. Something about having a home, about security, about finally being able to relax. He's not always sure what you mean, just happy to make you happy. What you provide for him, someone to come home to, a love that feels bigger than the world, your innovation and communication and compassion -- That, he knows. He imagines it's something like that. He hopes it is.
"Giving back does sound good," he hums.
"My mother says it's good feng shui, too, you know. To clear out a home before the new year starts."
"New year, new me?" he jests, and you smack him in the chest.
"It sounds weird when you say it!"
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twelve days of selfshipmas event
late post to this event! my family's place is indeed being cleaned out rn w everything going to donation ahaha. i hope everyone has the most loveliest christmas!
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saetiate · 19 days ago
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day to night with corae (sae x cora)
can i tell you i love you, without having to say it? / i speak your language — i hear it from you everyday. ꕤ in a world where i'm allowed to be much softer than i've ever been ꕤ you can rest your mind, here, with me. think only of me / are you tired? rest your weary soul here ꕤ loving feels easy, like breathing. gentle and fresh as the summer breeze / i didn't know it could feel this easy ꕤ i love you. not everything feels like something else ꕤ there is no world where i don't fall in love with you. in every world, i meet you and my heart recognizes your same, mirroring tune. ꕤ know me. know what i mean. know my heart / are you surprised? i know you, don’t i? ꕤ to be loved is to be seen, and i see you
(he's green and i'm purple, in case it wasn't clear :> if u really read this far here's a secret note: i love you)
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thank u to pasi aka nkogneatho for finding one of the pics hehe <3
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saetiate · 29 days ago
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sae would love your babie mode. just saying. crawl into his lap and curl into him and he'd enable you for it w that condescending but affectionate tone of his
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saetiate · 29 days ago
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imo… sae pays for everything in your life and carries things for you and makes sure everything is provided for you. fridge stocked, takes note of your toiletries that are running out. it’s all these little things you don’t have to think about anymore. he also pats your head :>
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saetiate · 26 days ago
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imagine jokingly telling sae "you should take me out to dinner sometime" and he says nothing, and since you both move onto something else you think it's just a forgotten moment. but then later that night you get a text and it's just an address and a time. and you text him back like "what is this?" and all he says is "dinner."
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saetiate · 26 days ago
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sae charges your phone for you every night btw. as well as a billion other little things he does for you like clean your glasses and make sure you have your bedtime water
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