fanfiction and shitposting

“yoichi isagi is not my boyfriend!” you chirp into the ambience, only to receive a pointed stare from your manager. “we’re just talking. where is he? the game’s not supposed to be for another hour —!” your gaze finally lands on the screen, emerald green glass and blurs of blue flash across it.

the chants echo through, similar to that of what you’ve heard from fans at your concert tonight. you’ve missed nearly half of the japan’s first game so far during your performance. “shit! turn it up! turn it up!”

the match ticks up in volume.

“it’s half time, one - nil. let’s get you out of this. also, you can’t stand in front of the screen like a toddler. your eyes will go bad—” your manager starts unclipping parts of your finale outfit. a little baby blue number, tightened with bows and lace and a number of moving parts you’d struggle to deal with on your own. especially now that you’ve rooted yourself in front of your match. “hold on, are you calling him?”

you’ve magically obtained a phone. who knows where from.

a month into tour means you’ve not been in the same place at the same time. your Europe leg starting just as the World Cup kicked off in the states. the two of you, just talking. not dating. have been making it work over facetime dates and phone calls that are hardly kept pg — you feel closer than ever even with the distance.

“i call him before every game — but i couldn’t this time. he’ll pick up, i know he will.” your eyes scan the screeb whilst the phone rings. luckily enough for you a camera decides to zoom in closely on yoichi isagi. number eleven himself. midnight blue bangs now shaggy over his eyes, dark blue spandex stretched across his chest clinging to each pectoral muscle as he catches his breath off to the side. “there he is! my diamond boy.”

your heart smiles when you see him, sweaty, but his eyes burning with that familiar crazed sense of passion, he looks at the pitch the same way he looks at you, something he adores with every fibre of his being.

someone hands him a phone and you can’t help the giddy grin slipping into your cheeks.

“hello?”

“yoichi,” you breathe easy. “hey, hi. i’m sorry, i couldn’t call. how’s it going?”

you see his body physically light up, tension rolling off his back as if your voice has kneaded it out of him. the crease between his brow eases too and soccer star glows under intense light, shining eyes and his golden skin fill your screen. “second half will be better now that i’ve heard your voice.” a pause. “i miss you, your pretty face.”

“shut up, you’ve been doing just fine without me,” the phone presses into your ear, as if pushing it any closer will bring isagi closer to you. your eyes flutter shut and you can picture him here with you, fingers slinking around your waist to bring you close, teasing lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “you’re going to win. you always do.”

“i’m always better because of you, though. i’ll show you in the next half.” the words are smug on his tongue, tinged with affection that the striker saves only for you. it’s impressive, how easily he’s able to switch from this intense monster on the field to the charming, boy next door you’ve been dating in secret for months.

yoichi doesn’t deny the victory on the horizon. he knows he’ll take it. his confidence in his ability, his freak instinct on the field is somewhat addicting — enticing. he burns for it — soccer — and everything that he does, even for you. isagi isn’t a half hearted kind of guy, you’ve come to know, he’d drop anything just to make you smile with the same dedication he’d display on the pitch. he’s all about you, he’s waited this long to even get a chance with you — he cares about one thing aside from winning and that’s how he makes you feel.

“i don’t believe you!” you purr down the line in a teasing tone, cheesing to yourself. staff flitter around you, helping tug off more of your outfit but your focus remains on your little boyfriend on tv.

he shifts on his kleets, rotating around the stadium in search for the nearest camera — it finds him first and you feel as though he’s looking straight at you. yoichi winks, deep blue eyes swirling with danger and desire. to win or for you. to isagi, they’re practically the same thing.

“what will it take?” he says, determined. hungry. loud and clear over the chanting and the cheers and the stomping feet.

butterflies flood your tummy at the lopsided smirk that slants on his plush lips. isagi raises a brow — rendering you weak in the knees. challenging you on live tv.

you chew on your bottom lip, gloss trapped under your teeth. “bicycle kick? score from five metres. then i’ll believe you.” is what you settle on. matching his intensity, daring his ability as japan’s diamond in the rough.

yoichi shakes out his fringe, pursing his lips at your dare, milling it over.

“your wish is my command, precious girl,” number eleven whispers huskily into the phone. you wonder if he looks as sexy to the rest of the world as he does to you, glistening as he locks the sweat from his cupid’s bow — hazy eyes and struggling for clear breath in the heat. the camera captures every twitch of his, each quirk of his lips, but it can hardly tell that all of it is because of you. isagi’s just as much yours as you are his. “call me after the game? wanna talk dirty to you as my prize when i win.”

“promise, and you can do more than just talk to me, yoichi. i’ll show you what you winning does to me,” your stylist unzips your heels and you step out of the constricting leather, glad to be back on your feet. a small, gentle mewl slips down the line right into yoichi’s ear. for a second, his cheeks flush pink through the camera lens. “fuck.” you gasp in relief.

“dirty girl, don’t get me excited, i’ll be thinkin’ about it for the rest of the game.”

“sorry,” comes your giggle.

“you’re not at all,” isagi’s cheery voice barely hides his visceral desire building for you. yet, you see it in his stance — squared shoulders and locked jaw. “keep your eyes on me, kay?”

“always.”

you end the call just before half time finishes up. the screen floods with other players from the japan team, nagi who you recognise and rin as well — friends of your boyfriend not boyfriend. they shove at his shoulders — teasing him no doubt for his sudden amped up motivation but it seemingly lifts the spirits of his entire team.

a makeup wipe is tossed your way, you swipe it off in trance and with a shaky hand as you anticipate isagi’s next move. whether he does manage to score a goal or not, you’ll be waiting for his call after ninety minutes all the same.

you quickly find out — ten minutes into the second half, that isagi takes bets just as seriously as he does his intentions towards you. along with thousands of others, you watch him kick off grass into the air — power wound up into his thick thighs as his legs sweeping upwards in a scissor motion. he strikes the ball directly into the top left corner of his options goal with ease. hitting the ground with a dull thud.

you still. the world stills.

and then: he sits up, grass and mud struck across his tanned cheek — ocean eyes looking for you in the camera once more. yoichi winks, blowing a kiss your way from across the globe.

“that one’s for you, baby.” he says with pride.

end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!

I think it takes a while for yall to be public about the relationship, not bc you don't want to be public, but bc Noah is terrified of the possible backlash. Like, this man was a piece of shit for one or two months before he tried your collab perfume and changed his tune, he knows that your fans hate him with a passion and will kill his career by canceling him or something.

It's not hard to keep things under wraps since you two are long distance, but when he visits you for a weekend, he keeps quiet in the living room while you film a review in your bedroom, wishing he could just cuddle up to you and smell the new perfume with you for the first time on camera. He's vocal about his concerns and worries, but you brush things off.

"Who cares what they think? They're just strangers."

"That's easy for you to say. You weren't the one being an asshole for months."

"Yeah, but then you met me and we got along great, so what does it matter?"

He sighs, pressing his face into your neck so he can smell you better.

"I just don't want everyone to think I'm abusive or something. I know I was a piece of shit, I was stupid, but I've gotten better and I just want everyone else to see that too."

You hum, tilting your head to lean against his.

"How about this " you say, suddenly sitting straighter, pushing him off, "once you get back home, make a public apology video. Tell everyone that you're sorry for being mean and you want to make amends." You point to yourself. "Then, I will publicly accept your apology and offer to settle things over coffee. You can come to town and show proof that we met and worked things out." Your eyes light up. "And then, for the next couple of months, we'll start planting seeds. We'll follow each other, leave comments on each others' videos, maybe even leave flirty comments too. Once people online start to make videos speculating that we're more than just friends, we'll make a video together confirming the rumors and reveal that we've recently started dating." You beam. "And then we can act like a normal couple together online!"

Noah blinks a couple times.

"Have you always been this smart?"

"Obviously, Sherlock. How do you think I got you into bed the first day we met?"

He throws a pillow at you, making you laugh.

He does as you instruct, the two of you following your plan for a few months. It's excruciating not being able to reveal the truth, but your plan ends up working. While he's visiting you, you shove your phone in his face one evening in bed. It's a video of a podcast.

"Are Noah and Y/N dating? I don't know if I'm crazy but I swear to god that they are. They're just too flirty in each others' comments!"

"I know, right? And like, if they are dating, that's fine, but they should at least be honest about it."

"Well, they might be keeping things private since they used to hate each other. Maybe they're worried about the backlash? I mean, if I started dating a guy who used to bully me, I'm sure yall would think I'm crazy and try to convince me to break up with him."

"Oh, that's true."

"But maybe he's changed! He might be a completely different person in private compared to his online persona."

"And you've gotta admit, his videos have changed in the past couple months. He's much nicer in his reviews."

You pull the phone away from him, grinning successfully.

"Hook, line, and sinker."

You film a video that weekend, but you don't post it for another couple of weeks, letting the rumors fester for a bit. When you do post the video revealing your relationship, there is some backlash, but there is also a lot of support.

I don't know yall, i just don't think it'll work out between them. He seems like a sleezeball.

> but did you see how Noah was looking at Y/N the whole video?? He looked so lovesick! I doubt this is a pr stunt, he seems too genuine.

>> omg im glad im not the only person who saw that! he looked at her like she was a goddess even when she looked away from him he kept looking at her!!

>>> i wish a guy would look at me like that

>>>> omg same

"See?" you say over FaceTime while he continues to read the comments. "They'll come around. You just gotta show that you're not the guy you used to be."

"Y/N?" he says, looking back at you.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

You smile, shaking your head.

"Love you too, dumdum."

───────────────

As for the "beef" entering their sex life...

You're long distance in the beginning, so you have a lot of phone sex, and you have the bright idea of incorporating your passion into your sex life. So, you start sending each other scents, opening them up once you're on the phone together. You're both naked already, hurriedly opening your packages, already aroused at what's to come.

"Smell yours first," he tells you, keeping the cap on the perfume you sent to his house.

"Aww, no fair. I opened mine first last time."

"C'mon, princess. I'm certain you'll like it. Be a good girl for daddy."

You whine, spraying the cologne on a test strip, waving it in the air before bringing it to your nose.

"Oh." You take a few quick sniffs. "Oh."

"See? Told you."

"I didn't expect the mango," you mumble, taking deep breaths.

"What else are you getting?" he asks, grabbing some lube, spreading it over his cock.

"I'm getting... a hint of citrus... lavender... leather and a bit of coffee... am I getting this right?"

"You're spot on baby," he sighs, stroking his cock lazily. "How do you like it?"

"It's nice... woody and masculine, but a little sweet and floral. The mango scent is gone already but it's still really nice."

"You want me to wear it for you?"

"Yeah," you sigh, reaching between your legs to massage your clit. "I want you to wear it when you take me out to dinner, and then I want you to fuck me in the back of your car."

"Shit," he groans, gripping his cock tighter.

"Now do mine already!"

"Fine, fine." He uncaps the perfume with one hand, spraying the test strip he laid out and waving it. He brings it to his nose and cringes. "Oh, hell no—"

"What?! What do you mean 'hell no'?"

"Babe, you know I hate perfumes that are too sweet. This smells like a fucking candy store."

"Oh my god, just let it settle! It's so good."

He wafts it in the air for a moment, bringing it back to his nose, scowling again.

"I can't do it, babe—"

"Noah—"

"I'm getting notes of bubblegum! Who the hell makes a perfume smell like bubblegum? Who is this for, toddlers?"

You huff and pout, crossing your arms.

"Fine. Then I guess I won't tell you the fantasy I have for it."

He pauses.

"... Fantasy?"

"Uh-huh."

He sighs.

"Babe, you can still tell me the fantasy—"

"Nuh-uh," you say, shaking your head, looking oh so adorable as you do so. "It's not the same unless you appreciate the perfume."

He groans, slumping in his seat.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

He sighs, grumbling.

"Fucking... fine, fine. I'll go in with an open mind. Just tell me the fantasy so I don't gag."

You humph, but still start your story.

"Imagine us going on a picnic date. I'm wearing the perfume and you don't like it, but I'm wearing this cute new milkmaid dress that pushes up my boobs and cinches my waist."

"Okay..." he hums, stroking his cock again, waving the test strip in front of his nose.

"We decide to go to an arboretum with lots of land and plenty of spots to sit. We find a secluded spot surrounded by trees and flowers, a pond nearby. We set up our blanket and sit down."

"Uh-huh..."

"We have lots of goodies to eat: finger sandwiches and a charcuterie board, and a big slice of cheesecake to share for dessert."

"What kind of cheesecake?"

"Raspberry white chocolate. I tried making it for the first time and it came out perfect."

"Shit. Keep going, baby."

"We eat our food and share some wine, and we get a little tipsy, just enough to make us more flirtatious. You unbutton the top of your shirt and run your hand under my dress to squeeze my thigh. I start smelling like jasmine and patchouli: can you smell it baby?"

"Yeah," he says after a big breath. "Yeah, I can smell it."

"And having you touch me starts to turn me on, so I straddle your lap. You get nervous, worried someone might see us, but then I start kissing you and you forget about everything else."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Your hand sneaks between your legs again. "And then I pull down your zipper and pull out your cock. I sit up and suddenly rub my pussy against you, and you realize that I wasn't wearing panties the whole time."

"Fuck—"

"And I'm just so horny, daddy. I can't help it. I need you to fuck me right here, right now. I need your cock inside me."

"Let me give it to you, baby. Let me give my sweet girl what she needs."

"So I start riding you," you sigh, rubbing your clit, "and I do my best, but my legs get tired so quick. So you take over and start fucking up into me, making my tits bounce and fall out of my dress. And I'm squeezing you so tight with my pussy. I'm already so close to cumming, and I smell like sugar and cashmere and tonka bean. Don't I smell good, daddy?"

"So fucking good, baby. So, so good."

"And I cum so hard I almost fall on you, but you just keep fucking me. I'm whining and crying from how good it feels, and I'm begging you to cum inside me. I want you to fill me up, daddy. I need it so bad."

"Fuck, lemme fill you up, princess. I'm almost there."

"Please hurry, daddy. Someone might catch us. I wanna feel you cum inside me before we're caught. I wanna feel it run down my legs while we pack up to go home."

"Shit shit shit—"

Noah lets out a low groan, spilling his seed over his stomach, even up to his chest. He hears you panting before you moan, sighing with relief a moment later. The two of you breathe in silence, hazily staring at each other through the phone.

"Hey," you smile.

"Hey," he smiles back.

"See? I told you it was a good perfume."

He scoffs.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I like your original collab better."

"Is that your signature scent for me?"

"Of course. Best perfume I've ever smelled."