I love sofatoshi right now, i planned to make a oneshots for him -sae itoshi x reader
𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖘: MINORS DNI!! cunnilingus, doggystyle, riding, couch sex, missionary, nipple playing.
𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘: "This connects to chapters 307–308. I miss Sae so much! — i remember Sae on the sofa? I planned to make a smut edit of that."
The apartment was bathed in the cool blue glow of the television, the Tokyo skyline glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Sae sat alone on the leather couch, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees, his gaze locked on the screen with an intensity that could cut glass.
The match was Barcha versus some second-rate club he didn't care about. But the player on the ball made him stop.Bunny Iglesias.
Lavender hair, sweat-soaked, a scar cutting across his face like a declaration of war. The ball moved at his feet as if it were an extension of his body—dribbling through three defenders with a grace that was almost disrespectful. Then the shot. A curling strike from outside the box that bent around the keeper and nestled into the top corner.
The commentator's voice crackled: "Bunny Iglesias has just scored, making the score 1-0!"
The stadium erupted. Bunny raised his fist, his eyes burning with a hunger that Sae recognized all too well.
Sae's jaw tightened. His fingers curled into fists on his knees. That's him. That's the world-class ego I've been waiting for.
His phone buzzed. He picked it up. "What?"
A surprised voice on the other end it's buratsuta. "Sae? What—what are you calling about at this hour?"
"The groups have been decided for the U-20 World Cup."
Sae's voice was flat, cold. "I'm not joining for the group stage."
"What? Sae, that doesn't make any sense. You're our best player!"
"Yeah, about that." Sae's eyes never left the screen, where Bunny was celebrating, his image frozen in a replay. "I'll participate in this U-20 World Cup. Only to play against Spain."
"Spain? But we're in the group of death! France, Argentina—"
"If Japan can't win at this stage without me, they're worthless." Sae's tone was sharp, final. "I'll only join if I don't change my mind."
The voice on the other end was practically sputtering. "You can't just—Sae, this is insane!"
"I have a dream to fulfill." Sae's voice dropped, low and dangerous. "Even at the cost of Blue Lock."
He hung up before they could respond.
Sae exhaled sharply, running a hand through his red hair. "Ugh. That fat-ass guy, always disturbing me."
He placed his palm over his face, pressing against his eyes. The adrenaline from watching Bunny's goal still buzzed under his skin. Anticipation. Hunger. The need to prove himself against the best in the world.
Footsteps padded across the hardwood floor.
He looked up. You stood there, hair slightly tousled from sleep, wearing a lingerie that barely reached your thighs. Your eyes were still heavy with drowsiness, but concern flickered in them.
"You're awake," Sae said, his voice softer now.
"Yeah. I heard a noise. What was that?"
"Nothing." He leaned back, stretching an arm along the back of the couch. "Just about a soccer."
You moved closer, sitting down beside him, the warmth of your body seeping into his side. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his shoulder.
Sae stiffened. "Hey. Don't be clingy."
"But Sae..." You nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his scent—expensive cologne, a hint of sweat, the faint trace of mint. "You looked tense."
His hand came up, hesitating for a moment before resting on your waist. "I'm fine."
Your eyes drifted to the television. The match was still playing, the scoreboard frozen on Bunny Iglesias's celebration. That familiar lavender hair, that scarred face.
"That guy," you said, pointing.
Sae's expression darkened. He grabbed the remote and pressed the power button. The screen went black.
"Okay, fine."
He turned to you, his teal eyes sharp, burning with something that made your breath catch. His hand slid from your waist to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.
And then he kissed you.
It wasn't gentle. It was hungry, demanding, a clash of lips and teeth that stole the air from your lungs. His tongue swept across your lower lip, asking for entry, and you parted for him, moaning softly as he deepened the kiss.
He pushed you back, laying you down on the couch, his body hovering over yours. His hands found the hem of your lingerie, pushing it open, revealing the black lace lingerie underneath.
"Been wearing this for me?" His voice was rough, low.
"Maybe." You smiled, breathless.
He didn't smile back. He just pulled the lace down, baring your breasts, his mouth immediately latching onto one nipple. You gasped, arching into him, your fingers tangling in his hair.
His other hand slid down, pushing aside the fabric of your panties. He didn't waste time—two fingers pressed into you, finding you already wet.
"Sae—slow down—"
He ignored you, his mouth moving to your other breast, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. His thumb circled your clit, pressing down with just enough pressure to make you gasp.
"I've been watching that match for two hours," he murmured against your skin. "All I could think about was you. About doing this."
He pulled his fingers out and brought them to his lips, tasting you. His eyes never left yours.
Then he lowered his head, his mouth finding your pussy, tongue sliding through your folds.
You cried out, your hips bucking. "Sae—slow down, please—"
He didn't. He ate you like a man possessed, tongue flicking, lips sucking, teeth grazing your clit. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open for him.
"Fuck—Sae—I'm gonna—"
He looked up at you, his chin glistening, his eyes dark with hunger. "Come for me."
And you did, your body trembling, waves of pleasure crashing through you. He lapped at you through it, drawing out every second, groaning against your skin.
He pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he stood, unbuckling his belt, letting his pants fall to the floor. His cock was hard, thick, already leaking.
"Sit on me."
You didn't question it. You climbed onto his lap, facing him, the leather cool against your knees. He guided himself to your entrance, and you sank down slowly, feeling every inch of him fill you.
"Fuck," he breathed, his head falling back.
You began to move, rocking your hips, finding a rhythm that made both of you groan. His hands found your waist, guiding you, squeezing. The couch creaked beneath you. His apartment was silent except for the sounds of your bodies—wet, rhythmic, urgent.
He leaned forward, capturing your mouth in another kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. His hands slid up to your breasts, squeezing, thumbs brushing over your nipples.
"Ride me harder."
You obeyed, bracing your hands on his shoulders, lifting yourself up and slamming back down. The angle changed, his cock hitting deeper, and you moaned into his mouth.
"That's it. Keep going."
But he wanted more. He gripped your hips and lifted you off him, spinning you around. You barely had time to catch your breath before he pressed you against the back of the couch, bending you over.
"Hands on the armrest."
You grabbed the leather. He spread your legs, kicked your feet wider, and pushed into you from behind.
The first thrust was brutal—deep, fast, relentless. He grabbed your hips and began to pound into you, his balls slapping against your clit with every stroke.
"Fuck—Sae—"
"Shut up and take it."
His hand came down on your ass, hard. The sting made you gasp, your pussy clenching around him.
"I said take it."
He thrust harder, faster, his breathing ragged. The couch scraped against the floor. The city lights blurred in your vision. You could feel yourself getting close again, the pressure building low in your belly.
"Sae—I'm close—"
He reached around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles. "Then come. Come for me."
You did, screaming into the leather, your body shaking. He followed moments later, his hips stuttering, spilling deep inside you with a guttural groan.
He pulled out, his cum dripping down your thigh. He turned you around, laying you back on the couch, your legs hanging over his shoulders.
"One more."
"Sae, I—"
He pushed into you again, slower this time, his forehead pressing against yours. The missionary position allowed him to look into your eyes, to see every reaction, every flicker of pleasure on your face.
He moved with deep, steady strokes, his breathing evening out. His hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.
"You're mine," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"Yes."
He kissed you, soft and lingering, as he continued to thrust. His pace quickened, his rhythm becoming erratic. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
"I love watching you come undone," he murmured. "Only for me."
He came again, his body shuddering, his face buried in your neck. You held him, your fingers threading through his hair, your heartbeat slowing.
He collapsed, his arm draping over your waist, pulling you against his chest. Your head rested on his thigh, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your shoulder.
The television was still off. The city hummed beyond the windows.
You looked up at him. "Are you still thinking about that match?"
He glanced down at you, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "No."
"Liar."
He didn't deny it. He just kissed your forehead, his voice low and quiet.
"Bunny Iglesias... I'm going to crush him."
You smiled, closing your eyes, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"And I'll be right there when you do."
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃
