: ̗̀➛ NOT THE EXCEPTION . yan! isagi yoichi / gn! reader
you were the fool for thinking that he’d be the only sane one in a team full of batshít crazy athletes. now he has you cornered, and the look in his eyes tells you that you should have never underestimated a wólf in sheép’s clothing.
+ happy happy belated birthday to the love of my life bbg (who shan’t be named) AND happy new year to everyone!!
( HOW DO I WRITE KISSING SCENES????, forced kíssing, dúbcon, n/sfw mentions, mánipulation, hárem mentions [bc it’s not yester without a hárem] )
You don’t know why you thought he was the exception.
Maybe it’s because, in a team full of egoists, Isagi seemed to be the only one to treat you like his equal. Shidou drapes himself all over you and leaves you icky with his séxual comments, Rin cooly glares at you and barely acknowledges your existence, you could nearly faint at the mere glare of Kunigami, and Bachira likes to play rough with your body as he clings and begs for your attention.
That’s not even the complete cast. Even people like Nagi, Reo, and Chigiri came with their own set of problems. But not Isagi. You had thought it would never be Isagi. Sure, he had a tongue and attitude on the field, parading around his victory with a smug smirk and spitting poíson at opponents and teammates alike. Yet that side of his seemed to completely disappear whenever he stepped out of the field, his prédatory gaze softening into a fond look whenever you bounded up to him to congratulate him on a well-earned victory. He never tried your boundaries or let his touch linger like the others did.
He was a gentleman through and through, and thinking that was your first mistake.
Your second mistake was being alone with him in your living room. He’s still wearing that soft expression and kind smile, but his hands are gripping your wrists too tightly.
“[Your Name].” He says your name in a hushed whisper, bringing up your trembling wrist to his lips so he can press a kiss on a new bruíse. You watch with wide eyes as those plush lips touch your skin and permeate an icy feeling of doom through the veins. His gaze meets yours.
“Don’t you think I did well today?”
Though your gut is telling you that something isn’t right, you’re still a fool smitten with the gentle image Isagi had portrayed himself to be. You find yourself slowly nodding, entranced by those blue eyes that never look away from you.
“Why do you think so?” He presses another kiss on your wrist, before loosening the bruising grip so he can trail kisses up your arm.
“… Your metavision is still as keen as ever,” you whispered. The television screen is reflected in his eyes, news of Japan’s newest victory flashing on the screen. You can’t look away. “You expertly led the others to victory; you instigated all the right chemical reactions for the perfect shot.” You lick your dry lips. “… You were amazing.”
He huffs a laugh into your shoulder, massaging your bruised wrist like he wasn’t the one who left that mark. “You’re not echoing Ego’s words, are you? I want to hear your own thoughts, not that slimy bastard’s.”
“M… Maybe,” you admit, tense with his grip on your shoulder tightening. “I don’t know much about soccer, but I meant every word. You were amazing, Isagi, you really were.”
His grip softens, you’re still tense, and he hums contentedly. “Right. I was amazing. I devoured every single bastard on that field and left them gasping.” Your hair tickles your ear as he pushes them back. “So, don’t you think it’s a bit unfair?”
“… What is?”
“That I have to share my trophy with the others.” His hand feels cold on your neck. “Can’t I have one thing to myself? [Your Name], look at me.”
You follow. He smiles that gentle smile again. He thumbs your lower lip like a lover.
“Kiss me.”
You read romances all the time. They had always described it as hot, passionate, fiery. But maybe you took fiction too seriously. Real life is always different, and the ice in your veins is proof of that.
You draw closer, breath hitched, and mustering all the courage and swallowing down the unease in your heart, you press your lips on his.
There is no fire like the ones described in the books. There is a heavy pit in your stomach. Is this what they call butterflies? You tremble under the scrutinizing gaze of Isagi, eyes still open even with your lips on his. Soon, he closes his eyes too and you feel his lips smirk against yours.
Returning the kiss, he pulls you in closer and takes your everything in deeply. You can’t pull away, you don’t pull away. In this very moment, he’s devouring everything you can offer— for now, physically; soon, mind and spirit. You wince when he bites down on your lip, not even trying to be gentle about it. You flinch backward from the pain, but his hand on the small of your back allows you no escape.
“Kiss me back, baby,” he whispers between kisses. “You’re my trophy for the night.”
You kiss with less passion than him, too nervous about making him happy. You match the softness of his lips with yours, lapping at his tongue like how he does. He laughs when he pulls away, finding amusement in the blushy and nervous look on you.
“Gosh, you’re so cute,” he sighs, grinning at you. It’s no longer friendly, those lips. A bit swollen from your kitten bites, the way he’s smirking at you feels too… smug. “Too cute. Those bastards won’t have any chance now that I’ve devoured you.”
You gasp when his hand tightens on your hip, and you shoot him a nervous look. “I- Isagi, what are you…?”
“C’mon, [Your Name], how could you possibly not have seen it?” He chuckles. “Bargin’ into the locker room every time we’re half naked, in those cute shorts, and you think that not one man in that room would think about taking you on the fuckin’ bench? Think, cutie. But you’ve always been wary of them, good thing. They think they can devour you by intimidating and belittling you? Those fuckers don’t know shit.”
He catches your bottom lip between his teeth and laughs at their stupidity, vibrations buzzing your lip. “First, you gotta sweeten the trap with honey, you know?”
You are reflected in those captivating blue eyes, fluorescent lights illuminating your paling features. Taking you in again, he devours your lips once again, caring only for the taste of victory on his lips and your sweet sounds on his tongue.
Another victory snatched.
