.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Yukimiya and I are in the middle of a photoshoot. To our surprise, Karasu walks over to us. Osaka is nine hours away from here. What is he doing? Yukimiya puts his phone down and greets his best friend. I’ve met him a few times but I’m still not all that familiar with him yet. Despite this though, I can’t help but find him attractive. I’m not about to tell my boyfriend that though.

Karasu reaches his hand out to me. I take his hand and he shakes it, “sorry for crashing yer date, miss.” I couldn’t help but smile and blush at that, “no, it’s okay!” Yukimiya comes up behind me and hugs me. He gives my neck a soft kiss. “Hey Karasu, come over to our place for a while. We were about to head back anyway.” He smiles, “I’m not about to let you both walk home when I have a car.” So, we follow Karasu to his car. Yukimiya opened the car door for me and closed it.

When we arrive home, Karasu decides to open the door for me. I notice that him and Yukimiya give each other a look. I don’t think much of it, could be a jealousy thing, who knows. I go to the door and I unlock it and go inside first. I go straight to the living room and lay on the couch.

Yukimiya and Karasu shortly join me in the living room. My boyfriend sits next to me on the couch while Karasu sits across from us in a chair. Out of nowhere, Yukimiya asks me if I want to try something new in our sex life. My face turns red and I was really caught by surprise. “Why did you want to ask this question in front of your best friend for?”

Yukimiya looks at me so casually and he’s smiling. “I want to share you with Karasu for the rest of the day. We talked about it outside so that’s why it took us a few minutes to get in here. What do you think?” I guess I have no choice but to confess, “I do find him attractive, and he’s pretty sweet to me whenever we interact with each other. I guess this one time experience wouldn’t hurt, let’s go to bed.”

Yukimiya gets off the couch and picks me up bridal style. I turn my head and I’m now facing Karasu. He’s already giving me bedroom eyes. I couldn’t help but fold for him.

When we got to the bedroom, Yukimiya gently places me down on the bed. “Yuki, is this considered a sin?” He scoffs at me, “you don’t believe in the same faith as me, I didn’t think you’d worry about it.” I roll onto my stomach, “I’m just considerate is all.” He plays with my hair, “I’ll ask for forgiveness later, how’s that?”

I roll back over and I rest my hand on his cheek. “You’re so good to me, Yuki.” He then asks me if I want him or Karasu to strip me, I chose Karasu. Yukimiya then proceeds to sit on the other side of the bed and watches his best friend handle me.

Karasu gently and slowly takes my clothes off. He then takes his shirt off. My eyes grew wide, I was not expecting him to be so muscular. He has more muscle than Yukimiya! My face turns red and I couldn’t help but run my hands on his abs. “I want to cling onto you like a sloth.” Yukimiya tries not to laugh and Karasu looks caught off guard. “She’s always honest like this, she really has no filter.” I look at Yukimiya and I lean over to give him a kiss on the forehead.

When I turn back over to face Karasu, he’s taking the rest of his clothes off. Yukimiya then starts to strip too. I lay back on my stomach again and I bury my face in the pillow. Karasu spreads my legs a little bit more. He then starts rubbing his hand all over my pussy. I couldn’t help but let out whimpers. Yukimiya starts to play with my hair.

Eventually, Karasu flipped me over so I could face him. He then asks if I’m ready for him to insert himself inside of me. I told him yes, so now he’s carefully and slowly sliding himself inside of me. I let out a sigh and I arch my back. I then wrap my arms around him and my legs. I have a good grip on his back.

He gives me time to adjust to his size. I start to rest my head against his shoulder as I’m gripping his cock. Yukimiya can’t stop staring at me, he’s been looking at me the entire time. All I give to my boyfriend, is my loving eyes and adoration. Karasu softly lays me back down and presses me against in bed. He starts to slowly and gently thrust inside of me.

I moan and I squirm, but I still look at Yukimiya as I’m being pleasured by his best friend. He holds my hand and I grip it firmly. I couldn’t help but do my best to kiss it. Even Karasu moves his hand away so I could do that. After I kiss his hand, Karasu moves his hand back deep into the pillow against my head.

I hit my orgasm and then I feel his dick twitch inside of me. He immediately pulls out and cums on my stomach. “Fuck, that was the best sex I’ve had in a while.” I took a breath, “you’re welcome.” Yukimiya plays with my hair and kisses my face all over. Karasu gets up and cleans the cum off my stomach with a tissue.

Yukimiya wastes no time after that and gets on top of me. He pulls me into a deep and heated kiss. Karasu sits on the bed next to me just smirking at us. It’s almost like we forgot he was here because we were so into each other!

Eventually, my boyfriend breaks out of the kiss and starts playing with my tits. He’s kneading them, and he gently sucks my nipples. I roll my head back and I let a loud moan escape from me. I then turn my head to look at Karasu. He takes my hand, he holds it and caresses it.

Yukimiya lets go of my tits and then lines himself up to my hole. He slowly inserts himself all the way in. I immediately grip his cock. He leans down and smirks against my neck, “you don’t even have to adjust to my size, you’re such a good girl for taking me in like that.” He then starts to slowly and deeply thrust.

I feel his cock twitch inside of me, he then releases his cum. As I’m being filled by him, my orgasm hits too. I try to arch my back, but Yukimiya is holding me down. After a few more thrusts, he pulls out. He then looks up at me and Karasu. “Shit, I almost forgot you were here, My bad Karasu. I got too caught up in my moment with her.”

Karasu laughs about it and I do too because I also almost forgot he was here, even though he was holding my hand the whole time I was taking Yukimiya in. Yukimiya places another kiss on my forehead. “Do you want another round? Or, do you just want us to take care of you and cuddle?”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

he had been abroad for a few away games, making a name for himself in countries you can only dream of visiting and was planning to fly home the day of his parents' wedding anniversary. he refused to miss it, he owed it to be there for his mother and father who had raised him so well and so right — especially now that he had means to spoil them the way they did him.

as soon as isagi touches base in japan, he has his driver take him straight to his childhood home with a suitcase full of bounty, ready to shower the people who raised him in plentiful gifts. souvenirs from every place he’s been to. his dad likes fridge magnets so there's one from each country he’s played in whilst his mom is a fan of those fancy ornamental plates that you never use but put on display. he'd told you he would swing by to see you afterwards, no matter how late it was. because as much as isagi’s missed his parents — he’s missed touching you, feeling you and the scent of your airy perfume whenever you brushed by him too. you would be next on his list.

but as he kicked off his beat up converse by the door, switched into some house-slippers before stepping onto the tatami floor — he hadn’t expected to be greeted by the sight of you in his mother’s arms, being fawned over by the older woman for bringing a basket of fresh fruits over from the market after work. the sound of your laughter coasting along the walls of his childhood home has to be sweeter than the peaches and pears you’ve gifted his parents. a silent thank you for raising the yoichi you’ve come to know and love. 

“happy anniversary,” you’d bleated softly, cheeks beginning to sting from just how wide you're smiling. he'd noted, just from staring a little while in the entryway, how there are crows feet at the corners of your dazzling eyes. little wrinkles of time that tell tales and count the numerous occasions in which you’ve smiled in your life. yoichi couldn’t help but wonder how many of them he had been behind, how many more smiles he’d get to earn from you in your lifetime. “thank you for everything that you do.”

a lifetime with you. a lifetime with you like this, in his home or maybe the one you’ll build together in the future. maybe you’ll fill it with enough memories to last; trophies from isagi’s many championing wins, your many arts and crafts half abandoned from where you pick up new hobbies and maybe even… children. little ones with his big eyes in your colour, the curl pattern of your hair and the slope of his nose. a world between four walls with the people he loved to call his own — with a partner to make a home.

those little thoughts, hopes and dreams for the future, they cling to the crevices of the soccer star’s mind — replay like an old movie. the type recorded onto a thick vhs tape that clatters when you push it into the slot at the bottom of an old TV. nostalgic but like a welcome home hug. they ring like silver speckles of static in his ear, guiding isagi through the evening —  the cuddles you share on the couch and while his mother flips through her frayed-edged photo album from the day she married his father. you’re warm, tucked into his side whilst the pad of your finger traces cursive dates underneath Polaroid’s from the late nineties. he feels the same static crackle under his skin during the dinner you’d so thoughtfully prepared for his parents too. 

with deep ocean eyes he’d watched you flit in and out of the kitchen for an entire evening — frazzled but beaming, sauced smeared across your cheeks and flour dusted on your hands and your soul so vibrantly alive. you had looked a mess, but, a beautiful one at that and his mind gets away from him once more, picturing you late nights and hand pulled noodles for dinner as a couple that lives together. 

he can’t help but wonder if this would be the two of you in a few decades time. like his mother and father, married for what feels like a joyful eternity, with a child and their partner celebrating your anniversary too. 

they’re his shining example, his mother and father. whilst they’ve had their ups and downs, they still manage to raise a boy worthy enough of your love.. he wants this for the two of you.

such visions and dreams, the depths of isagi’s vivid imagination distract him until you’re standing side by side in his tiny childhood kitchen. you’re washing dishes and he’s drying, the tea towel in his hand rough from use over the years as he dabs away suds and droplets of warm water. it’s quiet, peaceful between the two of you. never uncomfortable. he can tell that you’re pleased with the success of your treat for his parents and even happier to have been relegated to kitchen duty with his help — grateful to spend some time together wrapped in semi-domestic bliss. 

“thank you for today,” yoichi rasps as he sets a drinking glass on the drainage board and you make a move to unplug the sink — watching used dish water swirl down the drain before you fill it up again. “my parents, they really love having you around when i’m gone…” pursing his lips, the soccer star eyes your side profile and the subtle smile that tugs at the corner of your lush lips, causing them to quirk upwards. “okaasan likes having a daughter.” 

a quiet hint. subdued thoughts.

turning, you grasp the washing up liquid from the countertop and watch it bubble up on the clear, hypnotic surface of the hot water trickling into the basin. “yeah?” you stack the dishes within the soapy abyss, rinsing off muck from meals and scratch away curry stains from cream porcelain. “i like being around them too… they’re good fun. your mom reminds me of you all too much, she let me bother her and kept me company while you were away.”

you have more to say, but your boyfriend doesn’t press. he knows it’s hard when he’s abroad and the only times the two of you get to talk are when your timezones somehow magically align. yoichi wishes he could bring you wherever he goes and he knows in a heartbeat you’d drop everything that you could to be with him… but he couldn’t allow that. not with your blossoming career. at least not yet. he would wait to take care of you, like a good man would when he’s got plans to make their love everlasting. 

in quiet synchronicity, the two of you return to your household chore —  the only sounds filling the room being the cutlery clinking against tableware as it's  drowned in the sublime scent of fresh lemon. such a smell  makes the air feel cleaner, fresh, keeping isagi in the present moment and away from future plans that curl around his heart like a distractingly annoying weed. 

“yoichi,” comes your fond whisper, his name and its syllables like a promise of love on your tongue. your fingers brush as you pass him a freshly washed plate to dry and he feels the most alive he’s ever been. yoichi isagi, japan’s beloved striker and diamond in the rough, feels more adrenaline being tucked into your side doing dishes than he does racing down a pitch to score a goal. “yoichi, i’ve missed you, i prefer it when you’re home…”

your admission makes his heart melt and stop all the same. it’s sweet, you need him because when isagi’s away it feels like a piece of the puzzle is incomplete. he likes that, that you need him just as much as he needs you. without realising, the soccer player’s body gravitates towards you and you towards his, wet fingers slipping into the smart little dress shirt and sweater mix he wears. his own hands snake possessively around your waist, pinning you against the cabinet whilst he swoops the distance down to your height — debating between kissing you to devour you whole and keeping things PG in his mother’s kitchen. 

warmth from the pads of your fingers sink through his clothes, damp, but not unwelcome and his precious blue eyes threaten to flutter shut at the sweet sound of your surprised gasp and the way your shaky breath ghosts over his lips — a breath’s width away from his own. “i always miss you more,” isagi finally allows himself to say, clinging onto threads of restraint because he really can’t afford to have his parents catching him tripping over you like a teenager in their home. there’ll be moments like this, in the future he envisions, where you’ll hide such affections from your kids when they’re old enough to have it ‘gross’ them out. until then, you two the kids in the situation — trying not to get caught. “i much prefer this, seeing you in my home. s’cute.” 

you really are trying to behave, especially when your future in-laws are right outside, and isagi knows that. he can tell from the tiny, nearly-missable way you bite down on your bottom lip and shy away from the kisses he’s about to plant on you. it’s obvious in the way that your gaze flickers just past his shoulders and back onto the contours of his handsome face — you feel it too, the giddiness of love that only he can elicit in you.

but then you surprise the striker, standing on your tippy toes to snatch a chaste kiss from his lips like a thief in the night whilst your sudsy hands make a mess of his dark tinted hair. “it’s cute watching me make dinner and do dishes?” you taunt him, a playful glint dancing around in your pretty eyes. “are you trying to tell me you’re into that whole ‘soccer wife’ thing, yoichi?”

parts of it, yes. he’d never ask you to give up your job but coming home to you like this is what appeals to him most. he’d cook dinner with you, do dishes with you, chores on a sunny sunday with you. anything with you. yoichi just wants his rock on your finger to seal the deal. he wants married life with you. 

so he rolls his eyes instead, arm slipping to the curve in your spine as he nearly bends you over the kitchen sink, the water still running and sloshing about the place. melodious laughter fills the waist space and he smothers your face in affectionately placed smooches because he just can’t help the way love takes over him. isagi loves you so much he feels like needs to be a part of you, never leave you, make you his forever because he wants to be yours for an eternity. 

lips just graze over one another and you try not to teeter on the edge of something that could become very inappropriate very quickly — the two of you can’t be trusted when you’re alone together like this. you smile with your teeth between lazily, giggly snogs. you fit against isagi like a glove and he loves that and sees it in his future oh so brightly. 

the two of you are severely distracted, barely noticing mama isagi passing by with a knowing grin — coughing not so subtly as she watches her son fall so deeply in love. “yoichi isagi, i hope you're washing dishes and not letting your girlfriend pick up your slack." she comments slyly and the two of you jump apart like you’ve been zapped with electricity, eyes wide and lips just one or two kisses away from being swollen. 

"n-no, sorry!" you squeak before your boyfriend can, gently pushing him off and whipping around to shove your shaky hands in the sink. “dishes are being done! y-yoichi is a great help!” 

you’re so shy it kills him, makes his tummy twist, he wants you so bad and to keep you all to himself. would you say yes? would you marry him if he asked? he hangs his head, mulling it over and letting his embarrassment simmer into something else — determination. 

his mum laughs and you’re both straight as rods — heat bubbling under your skin, which makes isagi flush. you’ve been caught and you share a cheeky sneaky glance, trying not to laugh. “ma, some privacy please!” yoichi huffs, trying to save face and calm your nerves… because even after all this time, with his parents adoring you to the ends of the earth, you still feel bashful about being too clingy and sickly sweet with isagi in front of the older isagis. will that change when or if you’re married? 

he hopes not. he likes you like this and the way you hide your face in his shoulder the second his mother is gone.

“god,” you whisper and squirm in place, digits dancing around in lukewarm water to finish washing up. “you have to stop doing that, getting caught by your parents is still so embarrassing.” you’re warning him, though your words carry no weight or anger. everything is playful, pure. something that yoichi wants to last beyond his years. 

he’s always gotten what he’s wanted. isagi wants what he wants and gets what he gets. he didn’t become japan’s diamond striker without drive and determination — and right now he’s determined to have you by his side for all of forever.

by his side bumping hips while doing dishes.

so isagi moves without thinking, speaks without preparing and two important words wafts from between his lips before he can stop them.

"marry me."

the drinking glass you had been gently scrubbing suddenly slips from your nimble fingers in a manner that expresses your surprise. its shards splinter across your hands as it drips, just barely nicking you. moving quickly, you pull the plug and empty the sink again — making sure that neither you or isagi are cut any further by straggling fragments of glass. crimson seeps into the soapy water while you rinse your wounds under an ice cold tap, your boyfriend ashamedly tossing out the broken cup whilst his words hang in the citrusy air.

“w-what?” you manage after a few beats of silence, blood rushing through your ears and heart rate so high you’re worried the quick-witted striker might pick up on it. 

shit.

it’s too late for the striker to back peddle, not when you’re staring up at him with those beautifully wide eyes like you’re a deer that’s been caught in headlights. he stammers and stumbles, trying to wrack his brain for some kind of logical explanation… but is there any ever logic behind loving another person as much as he does? “i um… i asked if you would marry me?” isagi blurts, cheeks blaring a bright red whilst his endearingly blue eyes dart everywhere but you. "i-i mean, i don't have a ring. i can get you one, if that’s something that you want. i mean, of course, it’s something you want… who doesn’t want that…” panic starts to settle in and play with his pulse, his beating heart working overtime to push adrenaline through his system, probably accompanied by a dash of cortisol in the bloodstream too. 

because he has no idea what he was thinking, asking for your hand in marriage without all or the typical jumps and hoops he would have to get through. “and ah, fuck! i have a few more away games until the end of the season, some in the summer too… so we might not be able to plan a wedding properly until christmas. and i have no idea what my contract for next year will look like but—” more so to calm himself than you, yoichi dips his hands into the water to free your own from the sink with the utmost care and precision, making sure that your little cuts from the fragile shattered glass don't get any worse. absentmindedly but albeit a bit frazzled — he works quickly to wrap a tea towel around them, intent on stopping the bleeding. "i want to. be with you. forever, i mean. so, will you? marry me?"

it's at that moment that mama isagi decides she needs to supervise her son again and steps back into the kitchen, her jaw damn near dropping to the floor at the scene unfolding before her. her brown eyes widen comically,  in a way that reminds you entirely too much of your sweet boyfriend. if you weren’t so shell shocked, you would have cooed and commented on the resemblance. "yoichi isagi! you — you cannot just propose without a ring in my tattered old kitchen!" his mother squeals, voice high pitched and flailing. you both flinch, her disappointment ringing in your ears. "didn't i raise you better?"

"o-okaasan!" yoichi retorts, nearly whining like a petulant child because this really wasn’t supposed to get out of hand.

he doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed about this, doesn’t want to regret his own actions either. he just wants to marry you.

"just you wait until your father hears about this — honey!" the elder isagi summons her husband, only flustering her son more. "come and tell yoichi that he can't just propose out of the blue!"

"you need a ring, son!" papa isagi yells back from his place on the couch. he’d turned on the TV to accompany him during his recovery from your thoughtful and filling dinner.

"see!"

in response to it all, you find yourself tucking your face into your shoulder sheepishly — like you’re attempting to retreat into a shell. truth be told, marriage and one to isagi was something you’d only ever dreamed about, unsure if it would fit into his puzzling lifestyle as a soccer player. the mere fact that he’d asked whether he meant to or not, however, warms you down to the deepest parts of your soul. "okaasan, it really is alright..." you mumble timidly, trying not to wince at the pain in your hands while you do your best to reassure the isagis before you.

your boyfriend or… fiancé (?), instead, regains control of the situation after briefly floundering alongside his mother. he takes a step forward while his hands still cover yours and lets a firmness fill his next words. " i did think about this!" yoichi says, syllables rushed but voice enthusiastic. "i think about everything! you guys know that… from my plays on the pitch, to how i can get stronger and what i should eat to become a better player..." the star striker turns to you next, his cobalt eyes calm like the ocean waves on a sunny day-practically glimmering with how much adoration he has for you. "and this, it was a no brainer. when i'm with her, all my choices feel right. easy. i'm the best i'll ever be by her side. so asking her to marry me isn't just some fluke."

isagi tilts his head to the side, watching your face soften — brows creased at the centre of your forehead and bottom lip ever so wobbly. even when overcome with emotion, you’re still the most beautiful girl in the world to him. 

"i mean it."

by the time he finishes, both of your hands are beginning to itch from the drying suds on your skin but you don't dare let go of yoichi. all you need is a minute, a second to process the magnitude of what he’s asking you — trepidation fills the air where you leave silence, attempting to find your words and convey that what you are feeling is not hesitation but instead gratitude. you’re grateful for whatever you must have done in your past life to deserve a man like this. sensitive, kind and incredibly down bad. a man who loves you with every fibre of his being, who feels safe enough with you that he would propose in his childhood home.

before anyone can say anything more, your head is already subtly jerking up and down — a preemptive ‘yes’ whilst both you and mama isagi watch your boyfriend sink down on one knee whilst the rough pad of his thumb brushes over your ring finger nervously. his adam’s apple bobs gently and during the time between him licking his lips and speaking — his father has appeared beside his mother in the doorway of the kitchen.  

“so, i’ll ask again. without a ring or all of the grandeur but as a man on his knees looking to make a promise to the girl he loves…” yoichi exhales as if to push out his nerves, his golden skin paling ever so slightly despite the rose flush to his cheeks. if you weren’t so overcome with emotion, you might have laughed at him and kissed his pretty face — since he looks so adorably frightened down there on one knee, the tile on the kitchen floor surely causing an indent in his skin. his voice wobbles as he says your name, lips parting to form the question. “will you marry me?”

now you’re nodding so hard the isagis are worried your head might drop off — someone in the room is blubbering but you’re not sure if it’s mum or dad or yourself, you’re only able to tell when you make a pathetic attempt at finding the will to speak and lift a hand to cover your mouth. your cheeks are hot to the touch upon making contact with your hands, unmistakably wet too. only then do you realise that you’re sniffling in the middle of the kitchen, covered over a half-washed set of pots and pans and plates  while you do your best not to ugly sob. 

“yes, oh my gosh, yes!” you chirp wetly. “of course i’ll marry you, yoichi!” 

that’s all the confirmation yoichi needs before he’s darting to his feet, not being able to take not having you in his arms for much longer, and sets his hands on your hips — picking you up and twirling you as best as he can in the tiny little space. light hearted and happy cheers echo into the night because now there’s even more reason to celebrate. now that yoichi isagi is engaged to the love of his life, on his parents’ anniversary no less. 

it all feels right. feels special. 

“i love you,” he mumbles as your palms come to rest on his sturdy shoulders again, legs wrapped around his waist for support. “love you so much.” 

you grin, albeit a little wet and messy, nuzzling your nose against isagi’s. “love you, always and forever more.”

warmth buzzes through you as the two of you stay wrapped up in one another — though it’s not long before mama isagi is lightly scolding her son, affection laced within her tone. “alright, yoichi, why don’t you finish these dishes while i get her patched up! i-i thought i told you not to slack,” she says shakily but you know she’s oh so proud of and happy for her son — pinching his cheeks like he’s a little boy again. amidst the chaos, papa isagi grabs a bottle of his favourite sake to celebrate some more and your boyfriend— fiancé is put on dish duty once more.

before you part and after he’s carefully set you back on your feet, yoichi presses a pillow soft kiss to the backs of your fingers, mindful of the little cuts from the glass earlier, where your engagement ring will go — bright blue eyes sparkling with a promise. 

he’ll take care of you, from now on, for the rest of your lives.

it’s one such promise that you accept for a third time that night and get giddy over with his mother later as she disinfects and bandages up your surface wounds — talks of wedding venues and dresses and meals already flitting between the two of you.

and so, isagi proposes to you while you wash dishes together in his childhood home. you say yes, with his parents as witness to the first steps of your eternal commitment to one another.

the following week, he takes a trip to paris to play a friendly game and brings you along for a miniature vacation so that you can pick out an engagement ring at a private showing in a fancy cartier store. in the end, you both decide on something custom, because according to yoichi nothing they have is good enough for you. he wants you to have something entirely unique to you, that no one else has because no one else in the world will have you all to themselves like he has.

unfortunately, the a paparazzi manage to snag a photograph of your whopping, heavy ring while you shop and haggle for fridge magnets and decorative plates along street markets, of course for your soon-to-be in-laws back in japan. and although you’d wished you could keep the adorable tale of your proposal to yourselves as a memory confined to yoichi’s childhood home and kitchen… for just a little longer — you’re more than happy for the world to know he’s about to be yours for all of time.

since the two of you are entirely too excited to spend the rest of your lives by one another’s side.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Yukimiya has a photoshoot in the same city as you and Karasu. So he decides to invite Yukimiya over after he’s finished working. You slowly walk into the bedroom after your boyfriend sent the text to his best friend. You never want to confess to Karasu that you find Yukimiya attractive. It’d be awkward, and it’s a risk to put a dent in your relationship.

Karasu knows what you’re about to do. He doesn’t stop you though, he wants you to think he’s clueless. You close the door behind yourself, and you take your clothes off slowly. You’re doing your best to imagine that it’s Yukimiya who is stripping you down to nothing.

After you take your clothes off, you get in bed and cover yourself up with the sheets. You lay on your back and you start to slowly play with your tits first. While your other hand is on your stomach. Eventually, your nipples harden and they feel more sensitive. You slowly move your other hand down to your sensitive clit. You couldn’t help but let a moan out, “Yukimiya.” You paused what you were doing to see if Karasu heard that. He never walked in, so you continue to touch yourself.

After rubbing circles around your clit, you slide two fingers into your wet cunt. “Fuck, feels good, Yukimiya. Don’t… stop.” You move your fingers back and forth into a slightly faster pace, “gonna… cum. Yukimiya, fuck.” You then hit your orgasm, cumming on your fingers. After the session, you wipe your hands off with a tissue and you got dressed.

Karasu is still on the couch messing with his phone, “did ya have a good time gettin’ off?” Your face reddens, “I’m so sorry, it kind of slipped out.” He lets out a sigh, “ya think that bothers me? I have no doubts that you’ll leave me for him. I know how much ya love me.” You get on the couch but then lay your body on top of his. He puts his phone down onto the floor and plays with your hair.

“Try to get some sleep before he comes, I’ll try to get some sleep too.” While you were asleep, he gets his phone back and starts to text his best friend.

An hour later, you wake up. “Hey, just in time. Yukimiya is almost here.” You try to sit up but Karasu moves your head back down on his chest with his hand. “It’s okay, stay like this a little longer. I’m not done cuddling with ya.” You accidentally fall back asleep. Until you woke up again thirty minutes later to Yukimiya opening the door.

You immediately propped your head up to look at him standing by the door, “good afternoon, sleepy head.” You slightly smile, trying not to show how excited you really are, “good afternoon, Yuki. Make yourself at home.” You then plop back down onto your boyfriend. He’s gently rubbing your back now. Yukimiya sits on the couch across from you two.

Karasu and him started to talk about things that aren’t interesting to you. So, you try to go back to sleep. You open your eyes to Yukimiya kneeling down on the floor in front of you and playing with your hair. You close them again and let it happen. “You’re so pretty.” he cooed. Your face slightly turns red, “thank you.” You couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. “Karasu told me what you did earlier, do you want to me to make your dreams come true?” Your eyes immediately opened and widened, you’re in absolute shock.

You look up at your boyfriend, “well, answer the question. I’ll be fuckin’ ya too.” You couldn’t help but answer the question maybe a little bit too fast, “yes, please treat me good.” Yukimiya helps you get up and off of Karasu. He then picks you up and carries you into the bedroom.

He gently places you on the bed, “do you want me to take your clothes off? Or let Karasu? There’s also the option of letting yourself do it.” You couldn’t help but rest a hand on his cheek, “you’re so sweet, Yuki. You can take mine off.” So that’s what he does, he slowly removes your clothes but carefully drops them onto the floor in the same place.

After he got you stripped, he then removes his own clothes and makes a different pile on the floor. Karasu closes the door and then takes his own clothes off and joins you both on the bed. Yukimiya leans down and kisses your forehead. Your boyfriend holds your hand firmly. Yukimiya starts to slowly drag kisses all the way down to your body until he reaches your clit.

Your eyes widen and you look at Karasu. He smirks at you, “it’s okay, just let him make ya feel good. Don’t worry about me or my feelings. If I didn’t like the idea of sharing ya, then I wouldn’t have even proposed the idea. Correct?” You nodded your head in agreement. Suddenly, Yukimiya slowly licked a long stripe up your clit. You gripped onto your boyfriend’s hand and you used your free hand to hold Yukimiya’s head.

“Yukimiya, you’re making me feel so good!” He looks up at you and smirks, “yeah? You didn’t have to tell me that, I already know.” He then continues to eat you out and gently and slowly inserts a finger in your vagina. He then starts to scissor his fingers slowly and carefully inside of you as he’s eating you out. Karasu starts to palm your tit and play with your nipple.

“Fuck Karasu, I’m so sensitive.” He smirks down at you. “Ya ready for Yukimiya to make love to ya?” You let out a loud moan, “yes, I’m ready! Fuck…”

Yukimiya moves back up on top of you and gives you a heated deep kiss. Your tongues swirling around each others. Karasu couldn’t help but jerk off to the sight. When he pulled out of the kiss, he lined himself up to your wet hole. “This might hurt, I’m a bit bigger than Karasu, so there still could be a stretch that you’re not used to.”

Karasu scoffs, “the confidence in ya, though, yer not wrong.” Yukimiya looks at you, “I’ll go slow and gentle the entire time. You’re in good hands, don’t worry.” Karasu holds your hand again and you immediately grip it as Yukimiya is inserting himself all the way in. You couldn’t help but let loud moans escape your mouth, “fuck, you’re right about the stretch! Feels so good though even though it hurts right now.”

He leans forward and kisses your mouth again, “don’t focus down there, okay? Pay attention to how good my kisses feel on your lips.” Eventually, you begin to grip his cock, signaling that you’re ready. “There’s a good girl, adjusting to me and taking me so well.” He then starts to slowly and deeply thrust. You couldn’t help but squirm at the pleasure.

Karasu notices the stomach bulge, “ya takin’ him in deep, shit darlin’. Ya doin’ so good for him.” You couldn’t help but moan at the praise your boyfriend is giving you, “fuck… thank you.” He then slowly gropes your tit again. Yukimiya discovers your sweet spot, so he continues to hit it deeper each time he slowly thrusts. You arch your back, “I’m gonna cum, fuck.” Yukimiya smirks at you, “I’ll let you cum first and then I’ll pull out and cum on your stomach.”

Few seconds later, you hit your orgasm and he pulled out after thrusting a little bit more. Ropes of his cum lands on your stomach, “fuck, that’s the most cum I’ve ever released.” Karasu grabs a tissue and cleans your stomach up a bit.

Yukimiya gets off of you and switch places with your boyfriend. He rubs your clit in slow circles a few times and then slowly inserts his dick inside of you. Yukimiya gently presses down on where the stomach bulge is. You let out a loud moan, “fuck! Yukimiya…” he smirks. Karasu leans over on top of you and hooks his arms under your armpits and buries his face in your neck. His pace is slow and deep too.

Yukimiya plays with your hair and jerks himself off. Karasu moans and groans in your ear, “ya makin’ me feel good darlin’. Keep squeezin’ my cock.” You gave him one more squeeze and your back arches again. You hit your orgasm hard this time. Karasu helps you ride it out and then cums inside of you. He lets go of you and you immediately rush to face Yukimiya’s cock. “Can I help you?” He tries not to laugh, “yeah you can suck me off.”

All it took was the tip of his cock in your mouth and a few swirls of the tongue. He cums inside your mouth, “you don’t have to swallow it” before he could finish his sentence, you swallowed it. You turn around and you see your boyfriend smirking at you, “ya did a good job, darlin’. Now, let’s get ya cleaned up and takin’ care of.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

itoshi rin

sees it on your desk and thinks it looks... way too detailed. 

it’s got his little annoyed eyebrows, his blue hoodie, and it's so well-done it lowkey pisses him off. 

“why would someone spend this much effort on me? who gave this to her?” 

you weren’t home, so he silently chucks it in the bin. 

you come in with your yarn bag like “i made cookies and also finished sewing rin’s angry little face :)” 

you turn. you see the trash. you go, “uh. baby??” 

rin.exe crashes. 

“wait. YOU made that?” 

goes dead silent, literally just stares at the wall. 

“i thought someone was trying to flirt with you. i didn’t mean to throw you in the garbage. i mean– not YOU– the little me. the yarn me. fuck–” 

apologizes so bluntly it sounds like he’s being held hostage. “i’m sorry. i fucked up. i like the doll. please make another one. or stab me. whatever.” 

will now sleep with it tucked behind his pillow, secretly. 

kaiser michael

the moment he sees a plushie of himself, his ego is activated. 

but then he notices it's adorable. it has little blushed cheeks. it’s soft and sweet and gentle. 

that’s not how he views himself. and worse, it’s sitting beside you while he’s not. 

tosses it into the bin with a dramatic smirk and a bitter little “hmph. looks nothing like me anyway.” 

then you come in all sunshiney like “i finished your plush! isn’t he cute?” 

you look around. see it in the trash. 

the way your face falls? 

kaiser panics. instantly. 

“WAIT WAIT WAIT I THOUGHT IT WAS A CURSE DOLL OR SOMETHING I WAS TRYING TO PROTECT YOU” 

you: “i spent 10 hours just trying to figure out how to do your stupid smirk 😐” 

he’s hugging you so fast. “okay okay okay okay I GET IT I’M A TRASH MAN. PLEASE MAKE ANOTHER I’LL NEVER THROW MYSELF AWAY AGAIN!!!” 

tries to bribe you with yarn store credit and back kisses. 

nagi seishiro

didn’t mean to throw it away. 

genuinely thought it was a weird dust ball or maybe a snack. 

half-asleep nagi logic: “soft weird thing in my spot = bin.” 

you come in holding your yarn bag and go, “hey babe, have you seen the plush i made of you?” 

and he’s like: “huh?” 

you: holding up the trash lid “nagiiiiii!!!” 

him: looks down sees the crochet plush laying face-down in a pizza crust. 

“oh... that was you?” 

tries to make it up to you by letting you use his chest as a yarn table for the rest of the day. 

doesn’t even care if the yarn tangles around his neck, he just lies there like “do what you want. i’m garbage. make a plush of garbage me.” 

now carries your plush around in his hoodie pocket like it’s a living being. 

mikage reo

gets insanely jealous because he thinks someone else made you a plush version of him as a flirt tactic. 

doesn’t want to seem petty so he throws it away in the outside bin like a passive aggressive king. 

then you walk in with sparkly eyes and go “i crocheted something special for you 🧶💕” 

reo: “cool! what is i– WAIT NO.” 

runs outside in socks, actually dives into the bin like a madman. 

brings it back covered in leaves like “I FOUND HIM. MY SON. I’M SORRY I THREW YOU AWAY.” 

now commissions a glass case for it. 

makes you teach him crochet. gets frustrated in five minutes and just says “i’ll buy you more yarn. you be the cute one in the relationship.” 

shidou ryusei

throws it away on purpose because he’s unhinged and territorial. 

“wtf is this. who’s making voodoo plushies of me. is there a love curse on this thing???” 

hurls it in the trash like it personally insulted him. 

then you walk in like “isn’t it cute? i finally figured out how to crochet your eyeliner :D” 

“… you made that?” 

sudden shift. picks it up out of the trash and kisses it. 

“heeyyy sorry little me. papa didn’t know you were a homemade baby~” 

you: “i spent three nights learning magic loop just for your abs.” 

him: “i’ll never betray you again. i’ll name him mini-shidou. i’ll build him a tiny motorcycle. i’ll make him fight other plushies.” 

scarily attached now. probably threatens his teammates with it. “mini-me says die, bitch.” 

karasu tabito

sees the plush, thinks it’s a gift from a fan or something. 

feels kinda weird that you kept it, so he casually tosses it behind the couch (he meant to just hide it... the trash thing happened by accident okay). 

you walk in like, “i made a plush of you!” 

karasu: “... of me?” 

you: “yeah! he’s got your scowl and everything 😚” 

suddenly he’s diving for the trash like it’s the end of mission impossible. 

“BABE I DIDN’T KNOW HE WAS HOMEMADE I SWEAR I THOUGHT SOMEONE WAS TRYING TO MANIFEST ME WITH YARN.” 

clutches the plush like he’s been shot. 

now calls it “tabito jr.” and makes it talk in a deep little voice like “papa loves you 😍” 

makes dumb voiceover videos with it. yes he’s obsessed now. 

ness alexis

at first, he’s all smiley and calm when he sees the plush on your desk. 

like “aww… that’s cute… :)” but his smile drops when he realizes someone else must have given it to you. 

his eye twitches. someone??? not him?? that little plush is dead. 

he calmly throws it away when you're not looking, still smiling. he even pats the trash can gently. 

then you walk in later like “i finally finished the mini-you ~ i gave it your bowtie and everything 😚” 

ness: smile drops again like a curtain falling. 

“… you made that?? yourself?” 

starts gaslighting himself for being trash. “i threw your love in the garbage. i’m worse than filth. i deserve to live inside the trash can. no, i am the trash can.” 

he pulls out the plush, dusts it off like it’s a royal heirloom, kisses its little forehead, and then proceeds to cradle it like a baby. 

the next day, he makes you a matching plush of yourself (it’s hideous, but he tried) and says “now we can be together even when we’re apart 🥰” 

itoshi sae

sees the plush one day when you’re out and squints. “what the hell is that.” 

it looks like him. it’s nonchalant like him. it’s wearing a little red jersey like him. 

his ego says “obviously someone is obsessed with me.” 

but his boyfriend instincts are SCREAMING. 

he throws it out without a second thought, muttering “creepy stalker shit. people are weird.” 

you come home with sparkly eyes like “i crocheted your plush!! i even added your sleepy face when you nap on my lap–” 

sae: silence. 

you see the empty desk. 

“... where’s the plush? i swear it was right here.” 

he doesn’t even lie. “i threw it out. thought it was from a fan. or like. a weird shrine girl.” 

your face drops. his soul leaves his body. 

“... you made it? with your hands? for me?” 

full regret mode activated. 

gets up. walks out the door. digs through the trash with his bare hands. 

comes back and says, “if you don’t make me another one, i’ll never emotionally recover.” 

now the plush lives on his nightstand. he doesn’t talk about it, but if it’s missing? he will interrogate the whole house. 

“I don’t wanna marry you anymore,” he declared, arms crossed like he had thought long and hard about this decision.

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Fine, because I don’t wanna marry you either!”

The kids sitting around you both let out a collective, scandalized gasp, as if they were witnessing a tragic romance unfold before their very eyes.

You didn’t speak for the rest of lunch. Both of you sat in exaggerated silence, chewing your sandwiches in a way that made it very clear you were upset.

For about five minutes.

Then Otoya nudged your arm. “Wanna play tag?”

“…Yeah.”

And that was that.

You were still best friends, still inseparable, still attached at the hip.

That was how it always was. No matter what happened, Otoya always found his way back to you.

Until one day, he didn’t.

By the time you both entered junior high, the jokes about dating slowly faded away, replaced by real relationships.

Just never with each other.

Otoya had girlfriends now. A lot of them.

It wasn’t surprising—he was easygoing, charismatic, and could make anyone laugh. Girls naturally gravitated towards him.

What was surprising, though, was how effortlessly he let them go.

None of his relationships lasted long, but he never seemed heartbroken. If anything, his exes didn’t even seem bothered by their breakups. He’d flash them a lazy grin the next day in class, crack a joke, and just like that, everything was fine.

You never once saw him cry over a girl.

And for the first time since you’d met him, you were just his friend.

There were no more playful declarations of love, no more jokes about getting married.

Maybe you’d outgrown all of that.

Or maybe, just maybe, it had stopped feeling like a joke.

The first time you kissed Otoya, you told yourself it didn’t mean anything.

It was an accident.

Or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe.

It was late. His soccer practice had run long, and he had shown up at your house afterward, climbing through your window like he always did, flopping onto your bed like he owned the place.

You had been talking about everything and nothing at all, laughing over some dumb inside joke, when suddenly, he leaned in.

His gaze flickered to your lips for just a second before he closed the space between you, pressing his mouth to yours in a way that was soft, slow, and entirely too familiar—like he had been waiting for this moment forever.

When he pulled away, he grinned lazily, his voice just above a whisper.

“That was your first kiss, huh?”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing. “…Yeah.”

His expression softened. “Guess we just made a good memory together.”

That was how it started.

A kiss turned into two.

Two turned into nights spent tangled in sheets, your hands in his hair, his mouth tracing patterns against your skin.

When you finally gave yourself to him completely, he had laughed against your collarbone and murmured, “I’ll keep it safe for you.”

Good friends did this, apparently.

Good friends walked home together after his soccer practices, hands lazily intertwined.

Good friends fell asleep in the same bed, limbs tangled like it was natural.

Good friends still slept together—even when Otoya had a girlfriend.

And everyone thought you were dating.

But you weren’t.

At least, not officially.

Then one day, one of Otoya’s nameless girlfriends pulled you aside after school.

“You need to stop hanging around him so much,” she snapped, her arms crossed tightly. “It’s pathetic how you just follow him around like a lost puppy.”

You blinked, startled. “I—”

She scoffed. “You really think I don’t notice? Every girl who dates Otoya knows about you. We all know we’re just fillers until you decide you actually want him.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

Because deep down, you weren’t sure she was wrong.

That night, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Maybe this wasn’t normal. Maybe, in trying to feel something, you had hurt people in the process.

So you stopped.

No more late-night visits. No more whispered secrets.

And strangely, Otoya didn’t stop you.

You thought maybe he’d notice. That maybe he’d say something.

But if he did, he never said a word.

And the girls beside him kept changing.

The first few days without Otoya were… strange.

You told yourself it was normal—people drifted apart all the time. This was just a natural part of growing up, right?

But the silence was loud.

There was no more tapping at your window late at night, no lazy texts asking what you were doing, no sudden arms slung over your shoulders as he teased you about some random thing.

It was quieter.

At first, you thought you were the one keeping the distance, that it was your choice. That if you ever wanted to hear from him, all you had to do was reach out.

But weeks passed, and you didn’t hear a word.

No texts. No calls.

Nothing.

Then, one afternoon, the realization came crashing down in the most mundane of ways.

You were in the school bathroom, washing your hands, when a girl burst into the stall next to you, her voice thick with frustration.

“He just left for some soccer training camp—‘Blue Lock’ or something! Didn’t even warn me,” she cried, sniffling.

Your stomach dropped.

“What?!” one of her friends gasped. “Wait—like Otoya? He’s gone?!”

The girl let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Yeah. Just poof. Didn’t even bother saying goodbye.”

Your breath caught.

The cold water from the sink ran over your fingers, but you barely felt it.

He left?

He left?

Your mind raced. There was no way that was true. Otoya wouldn’t just go without saying anything. Right?

You fumbled for your phone, hands shaking as you scrolled through your messages.

His name sat there, undisturbed, with your last conversation from months ago.

And suddenly, it hit you—

You hadn’t noticed.

He had vanished from your life, and you had been so convinced you were choosing the distance that you didn’t even realize he was already gone.

You gripped the edge of the sink, feeling sick.

This was Otoya. The boy who had been with you since childhood, the boy who was always by your side. How had you not seen it?

Had he even wanted you to notice?

The thought made your chest ache.

Because if he had, he would have said something, wouldn’t he?

And yet—he hadn’t.

He had left without a word.

Without a goodbye.

Like you didn’t matter at all.

Blue Lock was exhausting.

Physically, mentally, emotionally—it took everything out of him. But Otoya thrived in chaos, so he never let it get to him.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

But sometimes, in the rare quiet moments between matches, when the adrenaline faded and there was nothing left to distract him, he’d find himself scrolling through his phone, staring at your contact.

The urge to text you was unbearable.

Should he?

Would you even care?

He thought about the last time he saw you—the way you had started pulling away, the way you had stopped looking for him.

Had you already decided he wasn’t worth keeping around?

That thought made something bitter settle in his throat.

Maybe this was for the best.

Maybe, if you had wanted him in your life, you would have noticed he was gone.

So he locked his phone, tossed it onto his bed, and pretended it didn’t bother him.

That you didn’t bother him.

That the ache in his chest wasn’t loneliness, but just another part of the game.

And in the end, he never pressed send.

You didn’t even know why you were here.

Well. That was a lie.

You knew exactly why you were here.

It wasn’t for the game, and it sure as hell wasn’t for Japan’s future in soccer.

You just wanted to see him.

Even after everything, after months of silence, after the way he had left you behind without a second thought—

You still wanted to see him.

The moment the match started, your eyes found him instantly.

Otoya was different.

Stronger, faster, sharper.

But more than that—he belonged here.

And for the first time, you wondered if maybe this was why he never looked back.

Because he didn’t need to.

The game was intense. You barely processed the score, the plays, or the tension in the stadium. All you could do was watch him.

And then, it was over.

Your breath was unsteady as you weaved through the crowd, pushing past people, trying to make your way down to the field before you lost sight of him.

And then—

You saw him.

Standing there, laughing, his expression relaxed and carefree as he spoke to a red-haired girl.

She was smiling, leaning close.

And just like that, something inside you snapped.

You stopped in your tracks.

You shouldn’t have been surprised. Otoya had always been like this, right? Easy. Charming. He moved on from people without a second thought.

And yet, it still hurt.

Because while you had spent the last few months feeling his absence like an open wound, he didn’t even look like he missed you at all.

Your hands curled into fists.

You weren’t going to do this to yourself.

You turned on your heel and walked away, not looking back.

And this time, you swore—

You were really going to leave him behind.

Time did what it always did—it moved forward, dragging you along with it whether you wanted it to or not.

You went to university. You got good grades. You found new friends, new routines, new ways to keep yourself busy.

And somewhere along the way, you convinced yourself that you had moved on.

You weren’t the same girl who spent sleepless nights staring at her phone, hoping for a text that never came. You weren’t the same girl who walked away from that stadium feeling like she had lost something she didn’t even realize she still wanted.

You were fine.

And you had a boyfriend now.

He wasn’t Otoya—he wasn’t playful or reckless, didn’t make your heart race with a single look—but he was steady. Reliable. Safe.

And for a while, you told yourself that was enough.

But then came the nights when you found yourself alone, flipping through channels until you landed on an FC Barcha match.

And every single time—without fail—your eyes found him.

Eita Otoya.

Older now, sharper, wearing that signature smirk like it had never left his face.

He moved across the field like he owned it, like he was made for this. And watching him, you felt the same ache in your chest that you had buried for years.

You were fine.

That’s what you kept telling yourself.

But if that was true, then why did it feel like your heart stopped every time you saw him on the screen?

The night Otoya came back, it was supposed to be simple.

You had movie plans with your boyfriend. He was supposed to come over, bring takeout, sit next to you on the couch, and pretend not to notice when you inevitably got distracted by your phone halfway through.

But when the knock came, and you opened the door—

It wasn’t him.

It was Otoya.

And he didn’t say a word.

He just stepped inside, grabbed your face, and kissed you.

Your heart stopped.

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing—

But your body betrayed you.

Your fingers curled into his jacket, pulling him closer as his hands found your waist. He kissed you like he had been starving for it, like he was trying to make up for every lost second, every wasted moment spent apart.

And you let him.

You kissed him back like he was oxygen, like you had spent years trying to convince yourself you didn’t need him—only to realize, in this moment, that you still did.

That you always did.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was lower now, rougher, like he had spent years trying not to say those words. “You don’t even know how much.”

You felt dizzy.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

But before you could say anything, before you could even think—

“What the fuck is this?”

You froze.

Otoya’s lips left yours, his gaze flicking over your shoulder.

And there, standing in the open doorway, was your boyfriend.

The takeout bag in his hand was slipping, forgotten, as his face twisted into something between disbelief and rage.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”

Your stomach dropped.

You hadn’t even heard him come in.

Otoya didn’t move.

Didn’t look guilty.

Didn’t even seem bothered.

He just blinked lazily, like he was barely interested in the whole situation, and then—

With absolutely no hesitation—

He walked to the door and shut it.

Right in your boyfriend’s face.

Then, just as easily, he turned back to you, smirking.

“You don’t need him,” he murmured, brushing his fingers over your jaw. “You have me now.”

And when he kissed you again, you let him.

Because the truth was—

You had always been his.

slight comeback but really just bc i had to get this out of my brain

@tigreblvnc is a well-known blogger in the Blue Lock Tumblr community, frequently analyzing characters like Michael Kaiser and reposting fanart. However, his repeated failure to properly credit artists has raised serious concerns. Instead of clearly naming artists in the captions, he relies on small, greyed-out “source” links that are easy to miss. As a result, he continues to gain thousands of likes and reblogs from art that isn’t his—without giving artists the recognition they deserve.

Below are multiple examples demonstrating this pattern.

Evidence of Improper Crediting

Examples of what someone would see when scrolling:

Link to post

Art by ogata69 on X

(underneath this post is literally another art repost lol) 2. Link to post

Art by asamashi288753 on X

Original posts: 1 2

3. Link to post

Art by asamashi288753 on X

Original posts: 1 2

4. Link to post

Art by ttioo14 on X

Original posts: 1 2 3

5. Link to post

Art by eppaya_okoge on X

The original posts of these artworks have been deleted.

This specific case is even more egregious since this artist doesn’t even allow reposts without permission.

In all of these screenshots, he posts their artwork without naming them in the caption.

The only credit is a small “source” text (greyed out as well) that is easy to miss when scrolling. (The link only goes to the profile, not the original post). This shows that this isn’t a one-time mistake but a repeated behavior over multiple posts, these are just a few examples from over 20+ similar instances. His top posts are almost all art reposts.

With at least 20+ instances, it’s hard to believe it’s purely accidental. 

Whether intentional or not, this kind of crediting prioritizes his own engagement over actually giving artists the recognition they deserve. If he genuinely didn’t realize, now he knows- and if he keeps doing it, that’s a choice.

Common concerns:

1. “He’s not making money off it, what’s the harm??”

Engagement is a form of profit. If his top posts are all art reposts, he’s gaining a following, likes, and influence off other people's work.

Engagement stays on his post, not the artist’s — when a repost gets thousands of likes while the original post goes unnoticed, the artist loses visibility and recognition.

2. “He did credit the artist, see? The source is right there!”

A hidden, greyed-out link isn’t real credit and  people won’t click the source - the link is small, greyed-out, and easy to miss while scrolling. If the artist’s name isn’t visible in the caption, many won’t bother checking. Proper credit means making the artist’s name visible and easily accessible. 

If people need to dig through tiny text to find the source, it’s not actual recognition—just plausible deniability.

On another note, he didn’t actually credit it himself, it was an automatic attachment by Tumblr which can be explained better here by @feathers-little-nest .

3.  “He’s just sharing art he likes! It’s not that deep.”

If he really liked and respected the art, he’d want people to find the artist.

Art reposting without proper credit is disrespectful because it reduces an artist’s work to engagement bait.

4. “Not everyone knows how to credit properly!”

Maybe once or twice, but after 20+ posts, he’s had plenty of time to learn.

5. “At least he’s not claiming the art as his own.”

That’s the bare minimum.

Also, multiple people have told me they thought that was his art due to the unclear credit, this can also be seen on the reblogs. And he doesn’t try to correct them.

Now you may be asking, how do I properly credit an artist then?

I will show you in the below examples, but on Tumblr (not cross-platform) I specifically encourage you to never repost someone’s work, just reblog the original post. Always check if the artists allow reposts in the first place in their bio and try to ask for permission before doing so.

Some basics are to mention the artist's name clearly in the caption and linking the original post.

Here’s 2 examples of how to properly credit an artist if you’re reposting them on a different platform.

1.

Art by @rokuii on Tumblr

(please support her!!💗💗)

2. Made by @sunriozz on (X/Tumblr)

also support her too! <3

End Note

This is not only a callout to him but also a callout to the many fanfic writers in this fandom who use fanart/fanedits in their fics (as a cover to grab attention, etc), and other art reposters in this fandom who use Pinterest without crediting the respective artists clearly in the post.

Suo’s repeated failure to credit artists properly is not just an oversight—it’s a pattern that prioritizes his own engagement over the visibility of the original creators. Whether intentional or not, this practice actively harms artists by preventing them from receiving the recognition and support they deserve. Please do not make the same mistakes as he did.

If he genuinely respects artists, he should:

Start clearly crediting artists in the captions, not just in hidden “source” links.

Retroactively update past posts with proper credit.

Refrain from reposting art unless he is willing to credit correctly or have permission from the artist.

There are other skeletons inside his closet and personal matters that I cannot publicly address, but they are worth considering. This post is also the reason why I haven’t been active in a while.

At the end of the day, artists deserve to be credited properly, not used for engagement. If you support artists, follow them directly, engage with their work, and avoid boosting repost accounts that don’t credit correctly.

warnings ✭ smut, consensual somnophilia, unprotected sex, orgasm (m)

✭ ✭ ✭

If Jiwoong was being completely honest with himself, his job was incredibly exhausting. Countless hours of being on his feet going back and forth from schedule to schedule could be a lot to handle sometimes. And it used to be the case where he would return to his dorm and drown himself in mindless activities to wind down. Never anything of substance and always just for the sake of mind-numbing entertainment. 

But after you’d started dating, you often offered for him to come over to your place when he was done with his schedules. You knew it would be a healthier way for him to unwind. It was only 2 months after you’d started sleeping together that you’d given him a house key.

And you’d told him as you gave him the key that he was free to slip into your bed whenever he wanted. 

He’d smiled, “Ok baby,” and he pecked you on the lips.

You shook your head. He didn’t get it. “No…I mean…” you ran a hand down his chest, “You can do whatever you want with me…even if I’m already asleep.”

His eyes had widened, “Fucking hell…” he groaned, “Are you sure?”

You reassured him multiple times over the course of a couple weeks, too. He’d brought it up a couple more times for clarification and specifics. And every time you’d reassure him that you trusted him and remind him that you wanted this too. 

And tonight he was feeling the mental fatigue extra hard. His feet hurt and his brain just wanted to shut off completely. When he quietly slipped into your bedroom he was greeted by the wonderful sight of you curled up in your bed in just a pair of underwear and a loose fitting tank top that did very little to actually cover any of your chest.

He changed quickly before slipping into bed behind you, watching as your shoulders rose and fell with your even breaths. The lace top you wore was loose around your waist, so he easily slid a hand under it and caressed the skin. And was perfectly content with this. Just running his fingers over your skin. Watching as goosebumps formed at his touch. 

But when you leaned back into him, grinding your ass into him, he froze. Sure you had given him explicit permission, but it just felt so…wrong. But that honestly just made him harder, and just the sight of you so helpless and unaware was enough for him to forget about all of his hesitations.

When he pulled your panties aside, you were already so fucking wet. He smirked, running his fingers through your folds, “Baby had some fun without me,” he whispered.

His patience was barely holding on, though. He slipped his cock into you. Slowly sliding himself in until he bottomed out. His thrusts were so so slow. Pushing himself in carefully and pulling out so he could drag his cock along your walls. 

You were still fully asleep, letting out little hums and moans. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were dreaming of him. Dreaming of his cock deep in your pussy and his mouth covering your chest in marks. 

He wondered if he could make you cum like this. Make you cum in your sleep. But that didn’t really matter at this point. Because he was getting closer and closer with every movement he made. He buried his face in your neck, deeply inhaling and groaning at how good you smelt. 

“Shit–” he groaned lowly into your neck. He pushed himself fully into you one more time before he came. Making sure that he filled you up completely. When he finally finished cumming, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he stayed inside you. Feeling your pulsing pussy around his incredibly sensitive cock. 

you'd think he'd even stopped breathing once he'd felt the soft sensation of your lips on his, and the pretty sight of the normally aloof stellaron hunter covered in multiple lipstick kisses all over his face to his neck nearly makes the rest of his other comrades keel over from laughter. his silence is indicative of his rather unusual state of shock, the only indication a menacing furrow of his brows (to an outsider, they'd think he's plotting a murder spree, but you know him too well for that) that twitch and simultaneously react the more you kiss him everywhere on the face.

silverwolf will then relay to you that blade walked around for nearly 5 system hours covered in your... marks of ownership, kafka helpfully supplies, and was only made aware when firefly accidentally bumped into him, face exploding in red when she saw the audacious sight of blade covered in your lipstick. “er, blade.... your face is...”

—

blade has never known mortification quite like today, but the intense feeling of something akin to shame is vivid as he stares at himself in the mirror, glaring.

his face is a mess, to put it simply. trailing a hand on the red stains your lips left on to him leaves him with a smudged countenance, furthering the utter chaos that is his kiss-ridden face.

“...ridiculous girl.” avoiding the uncharacteristic way his fingertips feel hot, blade reckons this is probably why firefly stopped dead in her tracks and gaped, stared, and flustered.

clever as you were, and with your equal penchant for mischief, blade, the ever unsuspecting lover he is (he doesn't normally allow anyone to touch him, but you're not just anyone) had easily become the target of your new tricks.

“pfft, nice get-up, old man. got yourself a good day?”

....so that's what silverwolf meant.

DANHENG immediately scolds you, but not in the serious way he normally does whenever stelle wants to eat an origami bird or dives into trashcans or when march accidentally destroys one of the archive books, but in a way that only dan heng ever shows you. he's red, painfully red, and is struggling to face you because he knows that the smug grin you're holding has to do with the sight he'd glimpsed himself to be in moments prior.

unfortunately for him, for all his ways of trying fervently to remove the lipstick stains plastered all over his face, it only took march one look and a melodramatic gasp before the entire express knew, the conductor included.

—

“dan heng and [name], sitting on a tree-”

“k-i-s-s-i-n-g~”

my friends are all senile, dan heng thinks, rolling his eyes while avoiding himeko's friendly (read: eerie) smile. and he's already given up on trying to meet welt's eyes. (read: concerned but not surprised)

the reason? the rouge tinted matte lipstick generously spread all over dan heng's face, slightly smudged and spanning from his cheeks to his lips, nearing his neck.

he'd never tell, but a part of him—one that was reptilian in nature, a primal need of possessiveness—adored the show of affection you showered upon him. it was only right—he was yours, and you were his.

welt is sheepish, coughing lightly that all five heads of the express members turn to him (pom-pom included) “dan heng, is that your tail wagging?”

“....”

“....”

“....”

(a resounding click! can be heard afrerwards. oh, dan heng is so going to steal march's camera.)

the loud whir of BOOTHILL’s cooling system can't even keep up with how fast he's overheating, because one thing led to another and one look you gave made him weak in the knees and now his body is covered in your kisses, scarlet against the metal gray of his limbs. he no longer has a heart, but the rapid feeling of heat emitted by his body speaks more about his current mental state in more ways than one—he can't even form words because his brain chip is practically glitching itself up into overdrive, because your lips were so warm, soft and gentle and—

“...oothill? boothill? your circuits are—”

a startling sound that sounds just like a mini explosion reverberates somewhere in the tangle of wires near boothill's power source.

oh dear.

( p.s: no warp trotters were harmed, rest assured )

“[name]...” AVENTURINE’s voice falters when you press a soft kiss near his forehead, your lover closing his eyes as he lets out a soft sigh of joy — a bit like a peacock preening... but in any case! he certainly sees no argument being swayed by you, his dignity in shambles, yes, but when you were showering him with affection like this (which, in all honesty, aventurine did not think he deserved) leaves in in a flushed and tattered mess of a man, whose strings are wholly puppeteered by you and you alone.

you are everything; and aventurine certainly can't get enough. (he doubts if enough will even be enough someday) he's the lover who'd proudly want to flaunt such salacious marks everywhere, though his craftily built reputation as a stoneheart—blood sweat and commodity code and all—leaves him to hide your marks on him, as much as he'd like them to stay. (you are a weakness that aventurine keeps like an oath, and an existence that he'd do anything to keep.)

that doesn't, however, stop him from getting you to leave a kiss near his collar, discreet enough to signal his status as irrevocably, undeniably yours.

DR. VERITAS RATIO is actually the most calm and most normal (read: boring) of all the men above when barraged by your kiss attack. letting out a tsk that's more chiding and speeachless than actually annoyed, he casually pulls you away from his face, nevermind his rapidly heating cheeks, which is only made more humorous given his lipstick stained face.

“stop that. you're making too much of a mess of me, fool.” <- is visibly leaning to your face to allow said actions. you're not fooling anyone here, doctor. smh.

however, he does get pretty flustered when a certain blond gambler notes the new addition of a ‘tattoo’ right near his lower lip. “wow, doctor. seems you woke up on the good side of the bed today.”

he spends a whole day scolding you hoarse afterwards, whatever that may entail ;).

(as a way of petty revenge, he will make sure to kiss you senseless right after, until he's sure his own lips are swollen and covered in the warm red of your chosen shade.)

a/n: blog is running on queue as of today, so this post will probably come wayyy overdue lol but hope u enjoy nonetheless!