You're chatting with Semiu and suddenly there are arms wrapped around your waist, you're sitting in the passenger seat and one of his hands is glued to your thigh, you fall asleep alone but wake up to a warm chest pressed against your back. Enjin is such a velcro boyfriend and the worst part is it's not even conscious. He follows you around everywhere, would glue his hand to yours if given the option, but still finds clingy people bothersome. Even if you point out how clingy he is, he will not get it. Oh well, why complain anyways?
Synopsis: Kaiser always does whatever he wants. At least, that’s what he tells himself.
Content: fem!reader, no angst, maybe its a little ooc.
note: i said i had SEVERAL of his works ready to be posted didn’t i?
The Bastard München locker room was already filled with the familiar noise of the early morning. Locker doors slammed back and forth, cleats were carelessly tossed onto the floor, and conversations blended together into a constant hum. Despite all the commotion, Kaiser seemed to exist in an entirely different world. Sitting in front of his locker, he finished tying the laces of his left cleat while watching his reflection in the narrow mirror attached to the metal door. He wasn’t paying attention to anyone. Or, at least, that was the impression he made a point of giving.
Nearby, Isagi zipped up his bag and looked over at the rest of the team.
“So it’s confirmed? We’re going to that restaurant after practice, right?”
“That’s what everyone agreed on.” Yukimiya replied as he cleaned one of his glasses lenses. “Apparently it’s some kind of sponsor event.”
“Finally.” Raichi let out a laugh. “Eating decent food after yesterday’s practice is practically a reward.”
Kurona simply nodded in agreement, while Hiori remained seated on one of the benches, listening to the conversation in silence.
The conversation flowed naturally until Isagi cast an almost imperceptible glance in Kaiser’s direction.
“It’d be better if everyone showed up.”
The comment sounded generic, but everyone knew exactly who it was aimed at.
Kaiser kept adjusting the lace of his cleat.
“No.”
Raichi let out a scoff of laughter.
“You didn’t even pretend to think about it.”
“Think about what?” Kaiser replied without even looking up. “Spending my evening in your mediocre company?”
“It’s a team celebration.” Isagi insisted. “They want all of us there, and you’re part of this team, so they want you there too, Kaiser.”
Only then did Kaiser lift his gaze.
His smile was small, lazy, and laced with the insufferable mockery that had already become his trademark.
“How cute, Yoichi. You almost convinced me.” The ironic smile on his face only grew wider before he continued. “If you want me there that badly, you can just bring a picture of me with you. How about that?”
Some laughed, while others simply ignored him.
No one there expected to convince him by insisting.
Hiori, however, kept looking at him for a few more seconds before speaking in the calmest tone possible.
“Alright…” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “But it’ll be a shame when I tell [Name] about this.”
Kaiser immediately raised an eyebrow.
For a brief moment, silence filled the locker room.
Raichi immediately turned his head.
Yukimiya had to hide a smile.
Even Isagi looked away to keep himself from laughing too soon.
Kaiser looked at Hiori as if he’d just heard the most absurd thing in the world.
“You’re going to tell her?”
“Mhm.”
His expression didn’t change. On the contrary, he simply rested one of his arms on his knee and let out a quiet laugh.
“And what exactly do you think is going to happen?”
“She’ll handle it?” Kaiser repeated the words as though they were the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “You people have a very distorted view of my relationship.”
“Maybe.”
“She knows perfectly well that I do whatever I want.”
“Of course.”
“So go ahead and text her.”
Hiori smiled.
“Okay.”
Kaiser shook his head, amused by Hiori’s confidence. It was almost childish. It reminded him exactly of the kind of threat adults made to little kids.
If Hiori really believed that would work, then he knew far too little about Michael Kaiser.
Before anyone could say anything else, the voice over the loudspeaker echoed above them.
“All players, please report to the training field.”
The conversations died down immediately as everyone obeyed the announcement and headed out of the locker room.
That day’s training was nothing out of the ordinary.
Ball possession drills, pressing, finishing exercises, and a scrimmage that somehow felt much longer than it actually was. Kaiser spent most of it provoking Isagi whenever he had the chance, as though their conversation from earlier had never happened. If anyone had asked, he would’ve said he’d already forgotten Hiori’s ridiculous little threat.
When they were finally dismissed, everyone dragged themselves back inside.
Kaiser grabbed his water bottle from his locker and took a long drink before reaching for the phone he’d left turned off during practice.
The moment the screen lit up, a notification appeared.
(2 new messages)
[Name]: “Go to the celebration with the guys today, Micha.” [5:03 PM]
[Name]: “It won’t kill you.” [5:03 PM]
He let out a quiet scoff through his nose. Of course that idiotic cyan-haired bastard had actually gone through with texting you.
Without wasting any time, he unlocked the chat and replied.
“No.” [6:57 PM]
The message was sent immediately.
Kaiser locked his screen, but his phone vibrated again before he could even slip it into his pocket.
He frowned slightly.
Another message.
[Name]: “Go.” [6:58 PM]
That was it. No emoji. No explanation. No “please.”
Just one single word.
He stared at the message for a few seconds, his eyes narrowing slightly. Of all the things you could have said, you had chosen the one word that left him with nothing to argue against. He could have ignored you, of course. He could have stayed right where he was. The fact that he was even considering going was already irritating enough.
Still, his fingers eventually moved across the keyboard.
“I already said…”
He deleted it.
“You don’t get to tell me…”
He deleted that too.
Letting out an irritated sigh, he simply locked the screen again before tossing the phone back into his locker.
“Ridiculous.” He muttered to himself.
Not replying was already an answer.
Or at least, that was what he kept telling himself as he gathered the rest of his things and headed toward the showers.
By the time he came back, the atmosphere had changed completely. The cleats scattered across the floor had been replaced by casual sneakers, training shirts had given way to hoodies and jackets, and football was no longer the topic of conversation. Raichi was arguing with Yukimiya about which dessert to order while Kurona listened absentmindedly. Isagi was buttoning up one of the buttons on his shirt when a movement near the lockers caught his attention.
Kaiser shut the metal locker door with a sharp clang, slipped his wallet into the pocket of his coat, and adjusted the collar of his shirt so that his tattoo was slightly more visible. Without saying a word, he walked right past them and headed toward the exit.
Raichi was the first to react.
“Hold on…”
Isagi looked at him too, clearly surprised.
“You… you’re going?”
Kaiser didn’t even slow his pace. He simply pushed the doorway and replied in the same indifferent tone as always.
“I’m hearing the door open, so I’d assume I am.”
“Huh…” Raichi let out a sarcastic laugh. “Didn’t the emperor say he wasn’t going?”
“I did.”
“Then why’d you change your mind?”
Kaiser glanced back over his shoulder, almost amused by the question.
“Did I?”
Without waiting for a response, he walked through the door and disappeared down the hallway, leaving behind a silence that lasted only a few seconds.
Hiori watched the direction he’d gone, a small smile forming at the corner of his lips. Isagi noticed it immediately.
“You’ve got that look because…”
“Because I said I’d tell her.”
Raichi frowned, still trying to make sense of it.
“You actually texted her?”
“I did.”
As he answered, Hiori pulled his phone out of his pocket just to check the conversation. There still wasn’t a single reply from you, exactly as he’d expected. Even so, he locked the screen again, looking satisfied.
“I think she talked to him.”
Isagi let out an amused laugh, folding his arms.
“You’re unbelievable.”
The two of them left the locker room shortly afterward. Farther down the hall, Kaiser was already walking with one hand tucked into his pocket, his posture as composed as ever. To anyone who saw him at that moment, it would’ve looked as though attending the celebration had been entirely his own decision.
That was exactly the impression he wanted to give.
No one needed to know that, just a few minutes earlier, he’d spent far longer than he should have staring at his phone because of a single message.
“Go.”
There had been no request. No pleading. Just a short, direct command, written by someone who knew him well enough to understand that arguing would be a waste of time.
In the end, Kaiser would go on insisting that he went because he wanted to. That a shitty team dinner like that didn’t mean a damn thing to him.
And, as always, no one would ever be able to prove otherwise.
Character:- Isagi Yoichi, bachira,reo Mikage, nagi seishiro, kaiser Micheal
Synopsis:- Bllk boys's girlfriends getting along. Tag your girls! . The post is platonic!
A/n:- I decided to write it in third pov it could have really difficult for me think of names or to write in a way that you guys will understand who is who. I got this idea cuz My two cousins who hate hate eachother actually decided to go to the same events because Their girlfriends love each other it was so fun to watch them acting all dudies!
The duos that make sense
1. Yoichi's girlfriend x Meguru's girlfriend
Now Isagi and Bachira are already good friends; so it won't be a surprise that they introduced their girlfriends to one another or in general they have heard of each other but them becoming proper friends was something purely accidental. Isagi's girlfriend isn't as intensely analytical as he is but she's naturally observant and has a dry sense of humor that catches people off guard. Bachira's girlfriend is playful, curious, and a little absent-minded in the best way. She's the type who follows whatever catches her interest for the next five minutes. Neither is particularly loud but together they somehow become the source of the strangest conversations imaginable.
✦ Their shopping trips always take twice as long as they should.
They'll walk into a convenience store intending to buy one bottle of water and come out forty-five minutes later because they somehow spent ten minutes reading the back of a package of seaweed chips, fifteen minutes comparing the mascots on different yogurt brands, and another ten debating which instant noodles had the prettiest packaging.
The boys have learned not to ask what took so long. The answer is never useful.
Bachira once asked.
"We found a pudding shaped like a bear"
"...And?"
"We bought four"
"...Why four?"
"It looked lonely"
Bachira accepted that explanation immediately.
Isagi simply accepted it because he had no other choice.
✦ They have a habit of collecting pictures of things instead of people.
Their camera rolls aren't filled with selfies.
Instead—
A duck sleeping with one leg tucked in,A cloud shaped vaguely like a football, A vending machine that somehow had only one drink left,A cat sitting like an old man ᴏr A pair of shoes abandoned in the middle of the sidewalk.
Months later they'll scroll back and immediately remember where they were and what they were talking about when they found it. Isagi thinks it's oddly sentimental while Bachira thinks it's genius.
✦If they find a claw machine...
...they're staying there.
Neither is particularly good at winning but that has never stopped them. The boys have watched them spend thirty minutes trying to rescue a plush penguin worth less than the money they've already put into the machine.
Eventually Bachira wins it on his first try.
His girlfriend snatches it "Thanks!"
"I was going to give it to you anyway"
"I know"
✦They try teaching their boys a trending hand game.
The girls clap.
Cross hands
Spin
Snap.
Easy.
And isagi and Bachira genuinely tries to follow there instructions but that doesn't mean they get it right for the first 3 attempts. Bachira's mistake looks so intentional that the other 3 thinks he's doing it on purpose and maybe he's who knows on he other hand isagi take it as challange even swinging his hips to a side while snapping his fingers which yearned him a smack to his ass by his girl.
✦ They accidentally create inside jokes nobody else understands.
One day one of them simply says— "Wednesday."
The other immediately starts laughing and the boys stare.
"What happened on Wednesday?"
"...Nothing."
"You literally cried laughing."
"We can't explain."
"You can."
"We really can't."
To this day nobody knows what "Wednesday" means. Even bachira's monster admitted defeat cuz neither of the two girls are willing to tell who's this "flat soda" they keep talking about.
2. SEISHIRO'S GIRLFRIEND AND REO'S GIRLFRIEND.
Their girls thought that they were probably the third and fourth wheeler in their relationship at first but then decided to form a community online to trade secret NAGIREO pics for fun and money!.
Nagi's girlfriend isn't lazy the way Nagi is, but she's incredibly easygoing. She's the type who doesn't feel the need to fill every silence with conversation. She can sit beside someone for an hour doing her own thing and still call it quality time. She's creative in quiet ways—crocheting badly, doodling on sticky notes, collecting songs she thinks people would like but never actually sending them. while Reo's girlfriend is organized without being controlling. She genuinely enjoys planning things, remembers birthdays without reminders, and somehow always has tissues, lip balm, a portable charger, and painkillers in her bag. She isn't the "mom friend," though. She just likes being prepared because it makes life easier.
Their friendship begins because Reo's girlfriend notices Nagi's girlfriend sewing a button back onto her cardigan while everyone else is talking.
"You carry a sewing kit?"
"...Doesn't everyone?"
"No
"...Oh"
That somehow becomes the start of everything.
✦They unintentionally become the group's "lost and found"
Nobody knows how. But whenever Someone loses an earbud? They've already found it.
Reo can't find his wallet?
"It's under the passenger seat."
"...How do you know?"
"I watched you drop it yesterday"
"..."
Nagi spends twenty minutes looking for his hoodie before his girlfriend quietly points at the hoodie he's already wearing.
"...Oh"
Nobody laughs harder than Reo.
✦ They are terrible influences on each other's hobbies.
Reo's girlfriend teaches Nagi's girlfriend how to crochet. Now there are tiny crocheted frogs everywhere.
Nagi finds one sitting on his game controller.
Another inside his hoodie pocket. One attached to his sports bag zipper.
He doesn't react on the outside but inside? He finds them cute.
He simply starts collecting them. Months later Reo notices Nagi has an entire shelf dedicated to tiny frogs.
"...Since when?"
"They multiply."
✦ Whenever they're left alone for too long...
...they start reorganizing things.
Reo's bookshelf becomes color-coded. His pantry suddenly has labels, his refrigerator somehow has categories now and He genuinely appreciates the effort.
Nagi, meanwhile... returns home to discover someone folded his T-shirts vertically. He stands there for a full minute.
"...Where's the blue one?"
His girlfriend opens the second drawer.
"...Oh" He secretly likes it.
He'll never admit he couldn't find anything before.
✦Every shopping trip ends with Reo carrying every bag.
Not because anyone asks him to. Because he physically cannot watch someone struggle with three shopping bags.
His girlfriend hands him one.
Then another.
Then Nagi's girlfriend quietly adds hers too.
Reo doesn't even notice until he's carrying six.
Nagi looks at him.
"...You know you can say no"
"I know"
"You won't"
"...I kno."
✦ Nagi becomes the unofficial test subject.
Whenever his girlfriend learns something new—
New hairstyle?
"Sit"
New baking recipe?
"Taste this."
New skincare product?
"Does this smell weird?"
New nail polish?
"Give me your hand."
Nagi never objects.
Mostly because objecting sounds like effort. Reo once walked in to find Nagi absentmindedly playing a game while one hand had tiny stars painted across the nails.
"...Do you know?"
Nagi glanced down.
"...Yeah."
"...You don't mind?"
"...She (nagi's girlfriend) looked happy." That was apparently enough explanation.
Everyone assumes this friendship is going to end in disaster. Mostly because Shidou's girlfriend is the type to enthusiastically suggest things like, "Let's see where that abandoned path goes."
While Chigiri's girlfriend immediately asks,
"...Do you have pepper spray?"
They're complete opposites in terms of energy. Not values but the energy. One thinks first, the other thinks halfway through.
Somehow...It works.
They✦ develop a ritual called...
"One bad idea per outing."
Shidou's girlfriend is allowed exactly one impulsive suggestion.
Exactly one.
After that, Chigiri's girlfriend has veto power.
"Let's rent a tandem bicycle."
"...Fine."
"Let's sneak into that closed rooftop."
"No"
"You said one bad idea."
"You already used it."
"Damn"
✦ Chigiri's girlfriend carries a tiny first-aid pouch not because she's clumsy or anything because she knows exactly who she's friends with.
The funny part?
Half the supplies end up being used on Shidou himself.
✦ They text each other things that make absolutely no sense.
[ Emergency]
[??]
[ I found a duck wearing shoes.]
[ Location? ]
Its never "Are you okay?"
Just—
"Location?"
✦ Chigiri's girlfriend eventually realizes...
...her friend is physically incapable of leaving a carnival without trying every game.
Meanwhile Shidou's girlfriend realizes Chigiri's girlfriend is physically incapable of walking past a cosmetics shop without saying,
"...Five minutes"
It's never five minutes
✦ Chigiri doesn't understand why his girlfriend keeps coming home with stories that begin with,
"So... we almost got kicked out..."
He always waits for the ending. The ending is somehow never Shidou's girlfriend's fault alone his girlfriend is always laughing too hard to pretend she wasn't involved.
while Shidou thinks it's the funniest friendship ever created. He absolutely loves hearing to hos girlfriend yapping.
"No, listen to what happened this time" Every story sounds like the start of a police report
His only complaint?
"They never invite me."
His girlfriend immediately replies,
"Because you make everything worse"
"...Fair"
✦ Double dates never go according to plan.
The original plan is always simple.
Lunch
Walk around
Go home
Instead—
Shidou's girlfriend spots one of those giant inflatable obstacle courses set up in a nearby park "We're doing that."
Chigiri's girlfriend looks at her "...We're adults"
"So?"
"..."
"...You already bought the tickets, didn't you?"
"...Maybe"
Twenty minutes later, Shidou is halfway through racing children because "NO EIGHT-YEAR-OLD IS BEATING ME."
Meanwhile, Chigiri is standing at the finish line watching his girlfriend laugh so hard she nearly falls over after getting stuck inside one of the inflatable tunnels.
"...I thought you said adults don't do this."
She points at Shidou, currently arguing with a nine-year-old who cheated.
"I was wrong"
✦The girls somehow discover...
...that Chigiri and Shidou are both ridiculously competitive.
Not just in football. Everything.
Who reaches the elevator first,Who finishes their drink first, Who folds a napkin faster.
One afternoon, Shidou casually says,
"I could definitely beat Princess over there in Mario Kart."
Chigiri slowly looks up.
"...Princess?"
"My bad."
"..."
"...Your Highness."
The girls immediately grab controllers.
Neither boy wins.
Because halfway through the race the girls quietly form an alliance and spend the entire game sabotaging both of them instead.
"...THAT WAS TARGETED!"
Girls : "It was
Shidou : "Nah that was explosive"
✦ Chigiri slowly realizes his girlfriend has become significantly braver since meeting Shidou's girlfriend. She'll suggest trying new restaurants,
Random train rides. Karaoke. Not reckless things.
Just things she'd normally overthink.
One day she casually says,
"I booked us all for indoor rock climbing."
Chigiri nearly drops his water bottle.
"...You?"
"...Yeah "
"...Voluntarily?"
"...Stop making it sound unbelievable."
Shidou proudly points at his girlfriend "She's evolving."
• Meanwhile.. Shidou notices the opposite.
His girlfriend has started carrying sunscreen,
Actually drinking water, Stretching before activities. She even owns comfortable walking shoes now.
"...Who are you?"
She blinks.
"...A woman with healthy knees."
"...Boring."
Chigiri's girlfriend quietly hands Shidou a bottle of water.
"You too."
"..."
"...Fine."
✦They make playlists for each other...
...that makes absolutely no sense.
One playlist is called—
Songs That Feel Like Orange Juice.
Another—
Clouds At 6:17 PM.
Chigiri reads the titles "...How does a song taste like orange juice?"
His girlfriend shrugs. "It just does"
Shidou doesn't even question it.
"Pfft, Number seven definitely tastes like mango!"
"...THANK YOU!"
2. Kaiser's girlfriend × isagi's girlfriend
Nobody understands why they became friends. It all started with stumbling into cafe by chance togather both somehow choiced the last piece of almond berry.
"Opps. You have it"
"It's ok I will just choice something else"
"Wanna split it?"
And somehow that simple conversation lead them to spaming insta reels to eachother after three weeks.
Kaiser's girlfriend has expensive taste without being snobbish. She likes vintage cafés, museums, perfumes, and always seems like she has her life together. Isagi's girlfriend is much more casual. She forgets to charge her phone, gets distracted by cute stationery, and has a habit of stopping mid-conversation because she spotted a cat across the street.
And their boyfriends hate each other.
By all accounts...
They shouldn't click.
Except they do.
Because both of them find people fascinating. One simply observes with elegance and the other observes with curiosity.
Unfortunately... Their boyfriends are among the most fascinating people either of them has ever met.
✦ The girls create a ranking system.
Not for football. For...How dramatic their boyfriends are after losing literally anything.
Level One—
Quiet denial
Level Two—
Over-analysis
Level Three—
Existential crisis.
Level Four—
"Kaiser."
"...What?"
"It's Uno."
"...I know"
"You don't need a revenge match."
"...I do"
✦ They have a shared album called...
"They're Actually The Same Person."
Contents include—Both boys reading shampoo bottles while waiting.Both unconsciously bouncing one leg when thinking.Both forgetting their drinks because they became distracted.
Both saying "...One more"
During games.
The funniest picture— Neither realizes they're standing in exactly the same pose.
Arms crossed.
Head tilted.
Thinking and all
Kaiser finds the album.
"...Excuse me?"
His girlfriend looks up "Hm?"
"Delete that"
"No."
"I look ridiculous."
Isagi's girlfriend leans over "...Actually that's one of your better photos."
Kaiser pauses.
"...Really?"
"...No."
The girls burst into laughter.
✦ Isagi accidentally becomes the third wheel.
The girls spend twenty minutes discussing perfumes. He tries listening. He really does.
Five minutes later— "...What's a top note?"
Silence. Kaiser's girlfriend smiles kindly "You smell it first."
"...And a base note?"
"Later."
"..."
"...Football is easier."
• Kaiser also becomes the third wheel.
The girls somehow begin discussing documentaries. History, Random animal facts.
Ancient architecture.
Kaiser sighs dramatically "...You two are nerds."
Isagi's girlfriend smiles "We know."
Kaiser's girlfriend nods "It's relaxing."
"...You're discussing Roman concrete."
"It lasted thousands of years"
"...Fair enough"
✦ Kaiser discovers Isagi's girlfriend laughs at terrible puns.
It starts by accident.
A waiter says "That'll plate your order."
She giggles.
Kaiser notices "...Seriously?"
"...It was funny."
"It objectively wasn't."
The next week...Kaiser deliberately starts making awful puns just to see if she'll laugh.
She does.
Every.
Single.
Time.
Isagi watches in disbelief "...You're encouraging him."
"I know"
"Please stop"
"I physically can't!"
Kaiser's girlfriend quietly mutters "...We've created a monster."
✦ The girls accidentally become Kaiser's biggest weakness.
Kaiser is impossible to embarrass... Or so everyone thinks.One afternoon, the girls are scrolling through old pictures together when Kaiser's girlfriend casually says,
"...You know, Yoichi actually smiles really nicely when he isn't thinking."
Isagi immediately looks away "...What?"
"You do."
"...I don't."
"You literally do."
Kaiser's girlfriend nods in agreement.
Then Isagi's girlfriend, without thinking, says "Kaiser does too."
The table goes quiet,Kaiser blinks once "...Excuse me?"
"You have a nice smile"
"..."
"..."
"...That's... different"
His girlfriend raises an eyebrow "...Different?"
"I know"
The girls don't realize what they've done. Isagi does. He's trying so hard not to laugh because Kaiser—Michael Kaiser—has genuinely short-circuited after receiving a completely normal compliment. He spends the next five minutes pretending to fix his hair.
✦ They discover the fastest way to end an argument.
Food.
Not because either boy gets distracted easily. But because neither likes talking with a full mouth.
The girls don't even interrupt anymore.
As soon as the conversation starts escalating. One silently slides dessert toward Isagi. The other hands Kaiser another fork.
"...Eat."
"...We're talking."
"...Eat first."
Five blissful minutes of silence.
• Kaiser insists he doesn't care...
...until Isagi's girlfriend compliments his cooking. It happens during a group barbecue. Kaiser had been unusually invested in grilling.
When she takes one bite she genuinely says "...This is really good."
He tries to act casual "Obviously."
But for the next twenty minutes he keeps hovering nearby.
"...Need another?"
"No, thank you"
"Are you sure?"
"...Yes"
"...There's more"
His own girlfriend watches him "...You're fishing for compliments."
"I'm accepting accurate observations."
✦ Isagi accidentally asks Kaiser's girlfriend for help.
They're trying to assemble something complicated. Kaiser disappears to answer a phone call.
Without thinking, Isagi asks "...Can you hold this?"
She does. They finish the entire shelf before Kaiser comes back.
"...You built it without me?"
"You were gone."
"...I would've done it faster."
His girlfriend pats his shoulder.
"We're all very proud of your imaginary speed."
✦The girls secretly enjoy watching them fail at ignoring each other.
If Kaiser walks into a room first, Isagi notices.
If Isagi walks into a room first, Kaiser notices.
Neither looks directly.
Neither says hello.
Yet somehow both know exactly where the other is.
One day Isagi's girlfriend quietly asks "...Do you think they have some kind of sixth sense?"
Kaiser's girlfriend doesn't even hesitate "No."
"What then?"
"...Professional hating."
• The funniest realization...
One afternoon, the girls separately ask the exact same question
Kaiser's girlfriend asks "So... what do you admire about Isagi?"
Kaiser scoffs immediately "Admire?"
Across town, Isagi's girlfriend asks "What do you think Kaiser's best quality is?"
It really shouldn't have been an argument at all, but you hated that he didn't seem to take the situation seriously. Your leftovers are a precious thing, and he should know better than to let his greed get the best of him especially when it comes to you and your food. So, when you brought up the problem to him and he laughed in your face, brushed it off and said you were being dramatic, you decided to take it a step up from just ignoring him.
“No, Enjin”
“Baby please? I didn’t know it would be that big of a deal. I’ll get you more, I promise” He begs, head resting under your (his) shirt. He looks up at you from underneath the fabric, golden orbs meeting yours through the neckline.
“Nope. You ate my favourite snack so you don't get yours”.
“C’mon, don't deny minibreaker like that” he pouts.
“Enjin!”
It feels like it’s been years since that day, and he doesn’t think life could get any worse. He tries to get your attention, gentle touches when you pass each other in the hallways, pleading gazes during meetings. You wouldn’t budge. And to make matters worse, you’re teasing him on purpose! Wearing the skirts he loves, trotting around the apartment in nothing but his shirt and a pair of underwear. His resolve was breaking.
He walks into your shared room. You’re laying on the bed, back turned to the door, pink fabric peeking out from between your thighs as you kick your legs. He sneaks up behind you, all of his weight suddenly resting on your back.
“You still mad?” he asks, brushing your hair from your face and guiding it behind your shoulder. His lips press against the shell of your ear, trailing their way down your body. Two hands grab your thighs, spreading them apart as he takes in the sight in front of him. Fuck, he’s been hungry.
“Yes, Enjin. I’m still mad. So i’m not sure what you think you’re gonna get by staring at my ass” you huff, turning around to look at him. You’re surprised to feel his hands on your ankles, a harsh tug sending your body to the edge of the bed. Your feet are planted on the floor, face smushed against the cotton sheets. He’s on his knees, his face in line with your clothed heat.
“Ha, knew you needed this just as bad as I do” he says, fingers brushing along the dampness on the fabric before giving them a quick suck. His hands push them down your legs, leaving them bound between your ankles. His nose nudges at your hole, before he plants a small kiss against your clit.
You let out a small moan, your lip finding its way between your teeth. It’s only been six days, but of course you missed him. The more you tried to tempt him, the more you denied yourself. And that could only work so long.
“What do you think, baby? Can you forgive me?” he asks, though he already knows your answer by the way you push your hips back against his face. His tongue flattens against your pussy, saliva mixing with the heat between your legs. Your hand moves to grab his hair, pressing him further into your core. Each time you tug at his hair it elicits a moan, vibrations rippling its way through your body.
“Fuck, Enjin” you moan, as his nose buries its way further into you. He alternates between sucking your clit or nipping your thigh, his cock growing harder every second. Your hands pull him in closer, each lick sending you closer to your climax.
“Missed this. Missed you so fucking much” he moans, tongue moving faster against your folds. You clench around his tongue, head flying back in pure ecstasy. His mouth doesn’t stop as he guides you through your orgasm, tongue lapping at the slick running down your legs. It isn’t until you push at his head, thighs squeezing in overstimulation that he lets up. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
He collapses next to you. Hands moving to caress the sides of your face.
“Know you’re catching your breath, princess but minibreakers gonna bust”
“Stop calling your dick, minibreaker, you dork”
TAMSY - 2 weeks!
You break first, obviously.
With the way Tamsy was acting, you’d think that he put you on a sex ban, not the other way around.
It started as a stupid argument. You tell him that he doesn’t take you seriously, always brushing off your concerns. To which he responds the way he usually does - grinning and telling you that you were being dramatic again. So, you put him on sex ban. For two weeks. If he wasn’t gonna listen to what you want, you weren’t gonna give him what he wanted. At least that’s what you thought.
Tamsy has always been patient, it was both a blessing and a curse. And in this case, it really didn’t work out in your favour.
“Tamsy, I need you” you whine. You pry his hand off the book he’s reading, guiding it down into your pants. His eyes shift lazily to yours, watching the way your hips grind needingly against his fingers. You guide them to your clit, moving his hand in small circles. You tried to work with this, you really did. But the pressure, the angle, the positioning, it was all wrong.
“Something wrong, my love? Are my fingers not to your satisfaction” he asks, eyes finally taking in your disheveled form. The novel is long forgotten on the bedside table as he watches your attempts at getting off. Hips grinding against him, his palm digging into your clit. Your eyes are foggy, warm streaks coating your cheeks. It was humiliating.
Tamsy watches closely, completely entranced by the way your hips rock against his palm. As your pace slows, thrusts uneven and thighs squeezing around him, he knows you’re close.
“It’s embarrassing, really. I thought you were the one who wanted this … what’s it called? Sexual ban?” he questions, his head propped up and resting on his hand. He watches the way you bite your lip, your movements against him ceasing. Back arching off the sheets, squeezing his wrist to hold it in place as you cum.
“F-fuck, Tamsy” you moan, tears flowing faster down the globes of your cheeks.
As you come down from your high, embarrassment settles in. Your cheeks burn as you catch your breath, the desperation fresh in your mind. He scans over his now wet wrist, wiping it on your shirt. Blonde locks soon cloud your vision, angel-like features towering over you.
“Tamsy, m’ so sorry. I-i’m sorry. Please, I just want your cock” you whine, hands coming up to grab at his pants. His hand holds your wrists together, a cold finger trailing along your body. You tense at the contact, his touch finally yours.
“Greedy girl” he says, shaking his head at your feeble attempts. The hand that traced your silhouette now making its way back between your legs, your slick resting between his fingers. This was what you wanted.
What you needed.
This felt right.
But that would never last long with Tamsy.
You’re soon stripped of all pleasure as he stands from his spot on the bed, watching as he makes his way towards the door. In a panic you force yourself up on shaky legs, arms reaching out to grab at his wrists.
“Where are you going?” you ask, eyes looking at him in pure desperation.
“Well there’s still one more week left” His eyes flick down to your hands gripping his wrists. “Thought you were the one who made the rules.”
ZODYL - 9.5 days!
Zodyl adores you, and he adores taking care of you. Sometimes, a bit too much. You’ve lost count of how many times Cthoni has been called in, a portal opening at the first sign of even a tiny mark on your body. And you love him, you really do, but sometimes, you’re not even sure he trusts you.
You finally snap after a mission gone slightly wrong, a manhole opening in front of you as you step foot into the colorful realm below you. When you open your eyes, the dark haired man stands with his back turned to you, arms crossed over your chest.
After a few back and forth comments, you decide that the only way for him to see how upset you are is a sex ban. 10 days. Even at the beginning you question your choices, the ache between your legs growing each night and you’re honestly not sure who’s suffering more.
Zodyl hates when you’re angry with him. It makes him spiral, and the raiders usually get the brunt of it. So when Fuu runs behind you, hiding behind your back from the man in front of you, you sigh.
Maybe the ban has gone on long enough.
“Ah, fuck, Zo” you moan, hands coming to rest on his chest. Your legs on either side of his hips, as you bounce on his cock. His hands cup the globes of your ass, eyes watching where his cock disappears inside you. He finds himself moving you when your legs get too tired, lifting you up and down to keep the pace.
“I missed you” he says, hands coming to brush the hair out of your face. You hold his wrist in your own, a kiss planted on the joint.
“‘Missed you too, baby. ‘Mm fuck, Zo im getting tired, can-” you dont even get to finish. Your body is scooped in his arms and your back hits the bed. His built form towering over yours as he cages your body between his arms. He guides his tip along your folds, bottoming out in one smooth motion. Long, deep strokes jolt your body further up the bed with each thrust.
Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him down so his lips meet yours. He moans into your mouth, taking your lip between his teeth before closing his eyes and letting himself melt against you once again.
“Promise I’ll do better, kay? Just don’t deny me from having you” he grunts, thrusts getting faster as he gets closer to his climax. You nod up at him, eyes training over his face. For someone who’s so intimidating on the outside, he’s always been a big softie when it comes to you. All of his defences come down and you get to experience the real him.
After a few more thrusts, you cum, Zodyl following suit shortly after. A white rim presenting itself at the base of his cock as he pulls out. His body collapses on top of yours, his cock softening between his legs. You brush his hair out of his face, his head snuggled deeper into your chest.
You allow your eyes to drift shut, your exhaustion finally taking over you. Until…
“Zo?”
“Hm?” he hums.
“Are you hard again?”
"…"
a/n: my gachiakuta horndogs you have been fed i apologize for the neglect! NEXTTT IS PERVY MHA HCS
Likes, reblogs and comments are all highly appreciated! mwah i love y'all 💋
Synopsis: Enjin’s body is covered with several intricate tattoos. But one, small, seemingly trashy tattoo is his favorite
Content: enjin x wife!reader
w/c: 1.3k master list - here
Black and red ink cover at least 90 percent of Enjin’s upper body.
His arms. His back. Part of his chest and neck. Little ones on his hands and fingers. Even his naval is inked. Together however, the design is cohesive and seamless. Bold and beautiful. Nobody would ever assume that his tattoos took several sessions to achieve or that he covered up a few dumb tattoos he got when he was younger.
Well, all except for one.
On his right pinky there is a tiny umbrella tattooed.
It’s relatively faded from age. But the lines are wonky, which is very evident compared to the straight, rigid, lines of the rings tattooed on his other fingers. It’s almost like a child did it.
Yet, despite the imperfections, he loved it.
“Staring is quite rude you know,” Enjin says, exhaling a puff of smoke from his cigarette. Beside him, Rudo stiffens up, looking away guiltily at being caught. Despite the energetic commotion of their fellow Cleaners drinking and socializing merrily, the silent tension between the two of them is loud. Taking another drag of the cigarette, Enjin sighs, “whatcha thinking about now? This party’s supposed to be for welcoming you, and you’ve been hiding out back here despite being the guest of honor.”
“I—uh…” Rudo trailed off, but Enjin could easily follow the direction of his gaze to the shitty tattoo on his finger.
“It’s my first ever tattoo,” the blond explains. He holds his hand out for Rudo to better see. A smile settles on his face. “Got it when I was about 18. Whatcha think?”
“I think it looks busted,” replies the white haired boy bluntly.
Surprisingly, Enjin cackles in laughter. He turns his hand, looking at the umbrella tattoo with fondness. “It does, doesn’t it? Definitely not the best quality, but you make those kind of impulsive decisions when you’re young only to regret them later down the line.”
Rudo frowned, only growing more confused. Not only he didn’t see the appeal in such an ugly looking tattoo, the man even agreed that it was terribly done. Wouldn’t one typically be upset about getting a bad tattoo? Not that Rudo knew much about tattoos himself, but he knew he wouldn’t want that permanently on his body.
“Can’t you get it removed or cover it up with something else?” Rudo questioned.
“Yeah, but despite its terrible quality, this tattoo is my favorite,” Enjin says. “After all, my lovely wife did it for me in the early stages of our relationship.”
You both were around 18 at the time.
The relationship was still rather new, but Enjin already knew within the first few months of being together, you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. What was there not to love about you? You were smart, witty, and gorgeous inside and out. You always put him in his place when necessary and had no problem vocalizing your opinions.
Most importantly, you were hyper independent. You held your own against trash beasts and cleaned up a fair share of Enjin’s messes. Spoiling you was never easy simply because you often refused to let him. But with time, Enjin would break down the walls you built as you did his.
“Enjin look what I found!” You enter your shared apartment, eagerly carrying something in your hand. Enjin lazily looked up from his spot on the couch, perplexed by your sudden excitement. You nearly trip over your feet to shove a box into your boyfriend’s hands.
“What is this?” Enjin curiously opened the rectangular box at your insistence. Inside was an array of items. Five slender needle-like objects. A tube of black liquid. A couple pairs of gloves along with a few other smaller items. “Is this tattoo ink?” The male questions, reading the label on the bottle.
“It’s a stick and poke kit!” You say enthusiastically. “I found it on my way to Canvas Town. You should totally let me try it out on you!”
Immediately, Enjin’s face sours at the thought. “I don’t know babe…we don’t know what dumpster this was in—“
“Then we’ll clean and sanitize the equipment before using it. And there’s gloves in here. Pleaseee Enjin?”
Unfortunately, his inability to say no to you was Enjin’s greatest weakness and he relented. After cleaning the supplies to the best of your ability, you pulled on a pair of the gloves and filled the silicone caps with the ink. You originally wanted to ink your name or initials on him, but Enjin called it tacky. So, you settled on doing an umbrella, because it reminded you of his umbreaker.
“Do you have to do it on my hand?” Enjin asks, slightly amused by the intense look of concentration on your face.
“Shush, you’re distracting me,” you snap. Your hand is unsteady as you poke the curve of the umbrella’s handle before slowly making your way up the rest of the design. After a few minutes you were done. “There! Finished!” You look pleased with your work. “What do you think?”
Enjin looked at his pinky. A janky tattoo stares back at him. He then snorted in laughter. “Babe, I love you, but you’re no artist.” You hit him with the nearby pillow, making him laugh harder. Before you could slap him again, he grabbed your wrist to halt your attack and caught you off guard with a kiss. “Thank you. I love it because you did it.”
After ten years, the stick and poke tattoo has since begun to fade. You’ve jokingly asked him if he’d get it touched up by a professional, but Enjin always said that he would only do so if you did it, refusing to let anyone mess up the precious art you put on his body.
Rudo sat in stunned silence, still reeling from learning that Enjin of all people has a wife. “Wait—you’re married?!”
Enjin scowled, hitting the kid on the back of the head. “Oi, what’s with that insinuating tone of yours? My wife and I’ve been happily married for almost seven years now.”
“You don’t wear a wedding ring!”
“Cause I got it tattooed instead!”
“Then introduce me to her!”
“I can’t cause she’s gone!”
Rudo paused, a feeling of guilt settling in his stomach as his face drops. “Enjin—I—“
All of a sudden, someone slaps the back of Enjin’s head hard with a notebook. “Enjin you asshole! Don’t talk as if I’m dead!” You snap. “You’re scaring the poor newbie.”
Enjin rubs the back of his head, grumbling under his breath. “Dammit, babe I think I have a knot on my head now.”
“Oh please, your skull is too thick for any real damage to be done,” you scoff. Turning your attention to Rudo, you offer a kind smile, him blinking slowly as he takes in your appearance and Cleaner’s uniform. “I hope my idiotic husband hasn’t been causing you too much trouble. I’m Y/n. You must be the sphereite everyone’s been talking about.”
“Uh…yeah…” Rudo trails. “I thought…Enjin just said you were…”
“On assignment?” You say, head tilting in confusion. You give your husband the side-eye, which he merely responds with that goofy grin you love so much (even when you’re trying to be mad at him). “Enjin, what did you tell him?” You ask in an accusatory tone.
“Nothing!” Enjin puts his hands up innocently. “I just said you were gone. And you were. But now you’re back.” He then looks at his pinky and smiles. “Oh, and about the shitty tattoo you gave me.”
You roll your eyes, but he could tell you were embarrassed based on your bashful demeanor. Heat creeps up your neck and ears. “Geez, if you hate it so much, then get it covered up—“
Enjin pulls you into his lap by your arm, cutting you off with a kiss. The kiss deepened as he cups your cheek, one of his hands tracing down your hip. He’s gentle yet passionate, built up from the sense of longing he felt while missing you. You’re breathless when he does pull away, lips swollen, now even more flustered by the audience you two have attracted.
“E-enjin…”
“It’s never getting covered up.” Enjin reaffirms. He gives you a cheeky grin. “It’s my favorite tattoo after all.”
— ᨳଓ sae taking your vacation photos for your instagram ! ۶ৎ the first inspo & the second inspo
the yacht drifted peacefully across the ocean while the evening sun painted everything in soft shades of gold and pink, the warm breeze brushing past your skin as you admired the endless view around you.
it was one of those moments that felt too beautiful not to remember, and after taking several selfies that somehow never looked the way you wanted, you eventually gave up with a quiet sigh before walking over to sae.
he was leaning comfortably against the railing with his sunglasses resting on top of his head, looking out at the horizon until you suddenly held your phone out in front of him.
he looked from the phone to you before letting out the smallest sigh, already knowing exactly what you were asking without you needing to explain. after a few seconds, he took the phone from your hand, quietly telling you to go stand wherever you wanted while he stayed exactly where he was.
you happily hurried back toward the railing, smoothing your clothes before glancing over your shoulder to see if he was ready.
sae had already opened the camera, but instead of taking the picture right away, he remained completely still, studying everything on the screen with an almost unreadable expression.
his eyes shifted between you and the scenery behind you several times before he slowly walked a little farther to the side, then a little farther back. he tilted the phone slightly, frowned to himself, lowered it, then raised it again, clearly trying to line everything up exactly the way he wanted.
you couldn't help smiling to yourself because he looked far more focused than anyone needed to be just to take a vacation picture.
without saying much, he lifted one hand and motioned for you to move a few steps to your right. once you did, he looked at the screen again before making another small gesture for you to turn your shoulders just a little.
he wasn't trying to change the way you looked—he was watching the sunset behind you, waiting until the sunlight framed you instead of sitting directly above your head. once he seemed satisfied, he finally pressed the shutter, only to immediately lower the phone and study the picture instead of calling you over.
you expected him to be finished after that. instead, he quietly deleted it, not because you looked bad. because the reflection of the sun across the water wasn't where he wanted it.
he walked several more steps, crouched slightly this time, adjusted the exposure with his thumb, waited for a small wave to settle, then took another picture.
a few seconds later he did it again, changing his angle just enough that the horizon sat perfectly behind you. every now and then he'd glance up from the phone, comparing what he saw with the real view in front of him before making another tiny adjustment. to anyone else, it probably looked excessive.
to sae, he was simply making sure it was right.
after a while you stopped trying to pose altogether, figuring he'd tell you if he needed anything. instead you rested your hands against the railing again, letting yourself admire the ocean while the wind played with your hair.
somehow, that only seemed to make him take even more pictures. every time you smiled at the waves, looked toward the horizon, tucked your hair behind your ear, or laughed quietly to yourself, the sound of the camera followed a second later.
he wasn't asking you to smile or telling you how to stand. he was waiting for the moments that happened naturally.
by the time he finally walked back over, nearly half an hour had passed. without saying much, he handed your phone back, expecting the conversation to end there.
you thanked him absentmindedly while opening the gallery, but the second the first picture appeared on your screen, your footsteps came to a complete stop.
there were dozens of photos. and every single one looked different.
some captured the sunset wrapping around your silhouette while others focused on your reflection against the water, and a few were taken while you were laughing without even realizing he had the camera pointed at you. they didn't feel posed. they felt real.
you looked up at him in disbelief before looking back at the screen again, unable to stop scrolling. the more pictures you saw, the more obvious it became just how much effort he'd quietly put into them. every angle had been thought through. every beam of sunlight had been placed perfectly.
even the background somehow looked balanced in every single shot.
sae noticed how long you'd gone without saying anything and briefly glanced over. seeing your eyes still fixed on the screen, he asked if something was wrong, only for you to shake your head almost immediately.
you looked back at him with the biggest smile he'd seen all day and quietly admitted that they were beautiful.
he simply looked at the pictures once more before slipping one hand into his pocket.
"good.." and that was all he said.
but as you continued smiling at the gallery on your phone, completely unable to choose a favorite because every picture somehow felt perfect, sae found himself looking at you instead of the sunset.
being the fire lord is easy. controlling a two-year-old with the hiccups? that’s the real challenge.
content: pure fluff, d/n= daughter’s name, girl dad & husband fire lord!zuko x wife reader
the sun was just beginning to dip behind the jagged peaks surrounding the fire nation capital, casting a warm orange glow over everything that matched the rich tapestries hanging in the private royal quarters. you were sitting on a thick rug, trying to neatly fold a basket of silks, while zuko sat at his low desk nearby, buried under a growing pile of scrolls that never seemed to get any smaller, even after years of him being the fire lord.
d/n was wobbling around the room, her little feet thumping against the floorboards as she chased a stray butterfly. she was wearing a miniature version of the traditional crimson robes, which made her look like a tiny, round ember.
"mama! look! i catch it!" she chirped, her voice high and stumbling over the words as she lunged for the butterfly on the wall.
you smiled, pausing your folding to watch her. "you almost got it, baby. keep trying."
zuko let out a heavy sigh from his desk, dropping his brush. he rubbed the bridge of his nose, but when he looked over at d/n, his expression softened instantly. the golden light hit his scar, and for a moment, he didn't look like the most powerful man in the world; he just looked like a tired dad.
"she has too much energy today," zuko murmured, leaning back in his chair. "maybe i should take her out to the turtle-duck pond before dinner."
just as he said that, d/n stopped in her tracks. her little shoulders suddenly hitched upward, and she hiccuped.
a tiny, bright orange spark popped out of her mouth, fizzling out before it even hit the air. her eyes went wide, and she looked at you with a confused pout. "uh oh," she whispered.
you felt a pang of worry mixed with amusement. "zuko, the hiccups are back."
"it is fine," zuko said, standing up and walking over to her. "it is just her inner fire reacting to the diaphragm spasms. she is only two, it is perfectly natural for a bender her age." he knelt down and scooped her up, but right as he did, another one hit her.
this time, a bigger puff of fire—not just a spark—shot forward. it wasn't enough to hurt anyone, but it landed right on the corner of the scroll zuko had been working on. the dry paper ignited instantly, a small flame licking up the side of the page.
"fire! fire!" d/n squealed, pointing at the desk and giggling like it was the funniest thing she had ever seen.
"no, no, no! not that one!" zuko yelped, darting back to the desk. he didn't even use bending to put it out; he just started frantically patting the paper with his bare hands until the flame died, leaving a charred, circular hole right in the middle of a tax report.
you couldn't help it. you burst out laughing, leaning back against the sofa. "well, i think she just gave you a very valid reason to stop working for the night."
zuko looked at the ruined scroll, then at his daughter, who was currently trying to chew on her own hand to stop the next hiccup. he sighed, a small, defeated smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"d/n, we do not burn daddy’s important papers," he said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably because he was busy booping her nose.
"burn it!" d/n repeated proudly, her little chest puffing out. "i do fire, dada! see?"
"yes, i see," zuko laughed, tucking her under his arm like a sack of rice. "you are a very powerful firebender, but maybe we should practice on things that aren't official decrees. like... nothing. let's practice on nothing."
another hiccup shook her tiny body, and a stray spark landed in zuko’s hair. you jumped up, quickly patting it out before it could catch.
"okay, that's it," you said, taking her from him and settling her on your hip. "i think someone needs some water and a nap before she accidentally sets the palace curtains on fire."
"no nap! play!" d/n protested, squirming in your arms.
zuko stepped closer, wrapping his arms around both of you and resting his forehead against yours. the smell of smoke and sandalwood clung to him, and he looked so happy it made your heart ache.
"let her stay up just a little longer," he whispered. "i’ll help her control the breath. if she learns to breathe through the hiccups, the fire stops."
"you just want to play with her," you teased, raising an eyebrow.
"maybe," he admitted, grinning as d/n let out one last tiny hiccup that produced nothing but a faint wisp of smoke. "but look at her. she’s going to be better than me one day."
"she's already got the 'accidental destruction' part down," you joked, kissing his cheek. "just like her father."
i luv how u write sae mmgh pls do bf sae headcanons
Thank u sm 🥹!
Bf! Sae headcanons (some nsfw)
Bf!Sae who will slowly let his walls down around you. It takes a while, but you slowly notice him talking more and more around you, being a bit more expressive with his face, quicker to make some teasing comment and poke fun at you. It’s not like he woke up a brand new person he’s just… more comfortable. With you, with showing the personality keeps inside.
Bf!Sae who laughs out loud the first time in years around you. He didn’t even mean to. You clumsily ran into something or tripped and faceplanted, and without a second beat the sound was coming out of him. More snort than anything, bubbling out of his throat on instinct at your hilarious position.
Bf!Sae who will occasionally show you a micro fraction of vulnerability. One time you guys are on FaceTime while he’s away, and he’s staring incessantly at you. “What?” You ask him. “I miss you. I’m touch starved.”
Bf!Sae who makes you the only exception to his hatred of personal touch. At the beginning of the relationship you purposely would sit away from him on the couch, move away if your thighs or feet accidentally touched. The closer you guys got, he wouldn’t let you. You’d sit a foot apart from him and he’d give you an incredulous look. “What are you doing?” “Trying not to make you uncomfortable.” His expression only deepens. “All this space is what’s making me uncomfortable.” He says, slipping a hand around your waist and tugging you flush against him.
Bf!Sae who can be a total sweetheart or an absolute bully in bed. You never know what mood he’s in. He’s either going slow, cooing praises into your ear, or he’s going hard and deep, whispering degrading things at your blissed out face.
Bf!Sae who is phenomenal at fixing your attitude if you ever get bratty. (Consensual ofc). And the worst part is he’s so good at doing it. Whether he’s edging you until you are literally crying, or overstimulating you, holding your hips down firmly so you can’t squirm away. Sometimes he’ll even be more of a pleasure dom, giving you orgasm after orgasm until your brain is literally melted from pure pleasure.
Bf!Sae who is secretly a little possessive. It’s impossible to tell, he’s so cocky and confident and sure that you’re his and his only. But if he sees guys talking to you he can’t help the way he gets. Of course he knows that he has you just like he has everything he wants, so not even he understands how the night always ends with him making sure you know who you belong to.
Bf!Sae who purposely leaves his hoodies behind when he goes away. He even sprays an extra spritz of his cologne on them. He’ll act like it wasn’t intentional if you ever ask, but he loves imagining you getting into them.
Bf!Sae who cares so deeply for you, more than you’ll ever know. His gaze always goes soft when he looks at you, and his touch is always filled with everything he doesn’t say. He honestly thinks you’re the best think that’s ever happened to him…. Even more than football. (But he’s too scared to think about that.) He cares about your health, too. If he ever thinks you’re not eating enough, he’d take you to a restaurant and order you BOTH burgers and fries. Yes. He would.
Bf!Sae who gets a little insecure sometimes, despite what everyone thinks. Some days he feels slightly stupid, with his lack of education outside of football, and his worst fear is you viewing him as unintelligent or helpless. Even if he needs help doing basic tasks, he’ll never ask because of that fear. He’ll pull up a YouTube tutorial, or look it up until he can do it on his own.
Bf!Sae who will never admit it, but has a thing for you spending his money. He’ll set your default card to his, and always encourage you to buy anything and everything you want. If you ever send him photos of your shopping spree, he will be secretly grinning on the other end.
Bf!Sae who looks for you in the stands after every goal. Who would’ve thought the genius football prodigy would even care about someone else’s praise. Yet, after every game he’s immediately finding his way into your arms, burying his face into your neck while you give compliment and compliment. He’ll stay there until he feels his blush is gone, then he’ll pull back, kiss you, and try to play it off cool again.
Bf!Sae who effortlessly eases you into his routine. At night when he starts his skincare, he’ll drag you out of bed so you can do yours. When it’s time for his one hour nap, he quietly grabs your arm and a blanket, heading for his bed. On off days when he goes to the gym, you’ll be coming with him. He’ll quietly stand in front of you, watching you do the machine before adding more and more weight. When you complain it’s too heavy he’ll just frown. “You have weak legs. Need to get stronger.” And next thing you know he’s mapped out a workout plan for you. Unknown to you, his favorite part of the day has become sitting on the couch watching you do your squats and pushups.
That’s all I could think of rn. My first req I’m so happy! If yall want me to extend any of these into a one shot I’d be more than happy to!
synopsis Michael kaiser making you help him practice!
Michael Kaiser has an army of world class resources at his disposal within the Bastard München facilities. He could easily order Ness to chase down his volleys for six hours straight, command the club's specialized training staff to calibrate his shooting angles, or force any lower ranked youth player to act as his personal defensive dummy on the pitch.
Yet, late on a Tuesday evening under the stadium floodlights, the only person on the empty field with him is you.
The reason is entirely possessive, and is driven by his massive, all consuming ego. Kaiser hates sharing the spotlight, and after spending the entire day surrounded by cameras, reporters, and fans, his patience for the public completely drains. He treats the pitch as his personal kingdom, and at the end of a long week, he demands an audience of exactly one. He specifically drags you out to his private training session because his pride thrives on your undivided attention; he wants you to sit front row and witness his absolute brilliance completely uninterrupted by the rest of the world.
"You're dropping your shoulder again, meine liebe" Kaiser’s arrogant drawl cut through the quiet air of the pitch.
He slouched past you, completely perfect in his black training gear, his blue tipped hair damp with light sweat. He hooked his foot under a stray soccer ball, flicking it up into his palm with an effortless grace that made you feel incredibly clumsy just standing near him in your oversized cleats.
"I'm dropping my shoulder because I'm physically exhausted from trying to keep up with you, Michael," you complained, leaning your hands on your knees as you gasped for breath, your face flushed red from trying to match his relentless pace across the massive field. "I don't even play soccer! My lungs are on fire, and your normal 'warm up' is literally a full workout for me."
He let out a breathy chuckle, the sound dripping with amusement as he stepped deep into your personal space. He tossed the ball aside so he could focus entirely on you.
"How dramatic," Kaiser murmured, his voice teasing as his large, calloused hands settled onto your waist.
He didn't pull away when you huffed. Instead, he firmly guided your frame from behind, stepping flush against your back until you could feel the heat radiating from his chest through his training top. He used his foot to lightly sweep the inside of your ankle, tapping your feet until they slid wider apart on the grass, forcing you into a more balanced stance.
As your feet slide wider you hear him murmur "Always spreading so easy for me." You roll your eyes and don't comment on it not wanting to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it.
"If you're going to pass the ball back to the Emperor, you must do it with an acceptable level of efficiency." Kaiser whispered against your ear, his fingers digging lightly into your hips as he manually shifted your weight forward. "Look down. Your center of gravity is completely unstable. If a defender even breathes near you like this, you'll collapse like a house of cards."
"I don't have to worry about defenders, I just have to worry about your ego." you shot back, tilting your head up to glare at him through the messy strands of hair stuck to your face.
Kaiser’s bright blue eyes narrowed with a slow, intensely smug smirk, completely delighted by your biting attitude. He didn't let go of your waist. One hand slid up your torso, his thumb lightly stroking the side of your neck, his touchheavy as he anchored you close against his heartbeat.
"Watch your mouth." he purred, his lips brushing the edge of your jawline as he looked down at your clumsy footing. "My ego is perfectly justified by my dominance. Now, stop whining. I'll give you a five minute break to rest those fragile legs of yours, but you have to give me everything you have when the next round starts, Süße."
He leaned his heavy chin on your shoulder, his strong arms wrapping securely around your middle as he pulled you back against his chest, completely satisfied to monopolize your time on the dark field while the rest of the German club slept.
note : yay more blue lock stufff yay more kaiser stuff. ill open requests Thursday if this gets more than 12 likes👍😣
a/n: inspired by this tik tok video i saw LMAO (i’ll attach it at the bottom of this post)
also this is so off topic, but i just watched the first 5 episodes of sparks of tomorrow on netflix since there’s only that much out rn and that anime has me CTFUUU WHAT IS YOSUKE’S PROBLEM 😭😭😭
synopsis: your boyfriend with kids.
ft. hugo vivian, itoshi sae
𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐨 ˖˚⊹ ꣑ৎ
ac goes to SirNagic04 on X
the event had been advertised as "meet france's rising football star!" which sounded incredibly glamorous until you actually got there and realized it was just hugo sitting cross-legged on a colorful kindergarten rug while six children argued over who got to bonk him with a foam football first.
a little girl smacked the ball directly into his forehead.
thunk.
he blinked once.
"again!" she cheered.
"okay."
she did it again.
the volunteer beside you gasped. you gasped. hugo simply picked the ball up and handed it back like this was an average monday for him.
with each minute that went by, it got worse. one kid climbed onto his shoulders without asking. another decided his face looked "too empty" and started decorating it with washable markers.
"hmm..." the little boy hummed seriously. "you need a mustache."
"okay."
"and whiskers."
"okay."
"and sparkles!"
"... okay."
you nearly choked on your own laughter.
"vivi," you called, barely containing yourself, "are you just... letting this happen?"
he looked over with little pink stars scattered across his cheeks and what appeared to be a baguette drawn on his forehead.
"they're having fun."
"... that's your defense?"
he shrugged. "they're five."
later, a tiny girl had somehow braided three colorful ribbons into his dark red hair. another had claimed one of his massive hands and was comparing it to hers with the most serious expression imaginable.
"mine's bigger."
"no fair!"
"you'll get there."
she accepted that answer immediately.
you watched him patiently tie untied shoelaces because little fingers couldn't quite manage bunny loops yet. he listened with complete seriousness as one boy explained that dinosaurs would've been better at soccer than france's national team.
when another child burst into tears because her drawing "looked ugly," hugo silently took the crayon from her, drew the world's most crooked little flower beside it, and said, "mine's uglier." she giggled. crisis over.
your heart did something incredibly embarrassing. this wasn't the hugo everyone else knew. not the man who could play under no pressure in a stadium filled with 80,000 people or the man who answered interviews with one sentence if reporters were lucky.
here, surrounded by tiny humans using him as jungle gym equipment, he just... existed, in a very unbothered way.
a little boy tugged your sleeve. "miss?"
"yeah?"
"is he always this quiet?"
you looked at hugo just as another foam ball smacked him square in the face. "um… pretty much."
"cool."
"cool?"
"yeah! he's like a really big capybara."
you laughed so hard you had to crouch down. that was honestly a fair assessment.
later, as everyone began cleaning up, hugo finally wandered over to you with marker still all over his face.
"what?"
"nothing."
"you're smiling."
"am i not allowed to?"
he narrowed his eyes slightly. "what are you thinking about?”
you reached up and brushed some glitter off his cheek. "i'm just wondering."
"about what?"
you smiled to yourself. "what you'd be like as a dad."
for the first time all afternoon, the great, unreadable vivian hugo actually paused. then he tilted his head, chuckled softly, and blurted out: "our kids would probably draw on my face, too."
your mouth parted in surprise before you laughed. "and you'd let them."
"yeah." another tiny shrug. "it's just marker."
your heart absolutely betrayed you. that tiny, completely casual answer painted a picture so vivid you could almost see it – little shoes by the front door. crayon drawings on the fridge. a sleepy baby with his hair color asleep on his chest while he watched game film.
and hugo, sitting there with another ridiculous mustache scribbled across his face… acting like it was the most normal thing in the world.
oh, you’re so screwed.
𝐬𝐚𝐞 ˖˚⊹ ꣑ৎ
ac goes to fz7_13 on X
the park had been peaceful for exactly three minutes. the moment had been ruined when sae noticed the elementary school boys playing soccer.
you noticed the look on his face. "don't."
he glanced at you. "don't what?"
"whatever you're about to do."
"wow. you're assuming a lot."
five seconds later, he had ended up standing in the middle of their scrimmage with his hands in his pockets while six sweaty little boys stared up at him with sparkling eyes.
"are you really sae itoshi?!"
"yeah."
"woaaah!"
"can you watch us play?"
"... sure."
you smiled. oh? he's being ni–
"number seven," sae interrupted after exactly 20 seconds in.
the tiny boy froze. "m-me?"
"yeah."
"what?"
"you're hiding. you keep standing behind your teammate because you're scared to ask for the ball."
the little boy's jaw dropped. "i-i'm not scared."
"you are."
"... am not."
sae tilted his head. "then why haven't you touched the ball in the last two minutes?"
the other kids slowly turned toward number seven.
"... he's got a point."
number seven looked like he had just witnessed the collapse of civilization. you buried your face in your hands. oh my god.
the match resumed. 30 seconds later–
"blue shirt."
another child looked up.
"your first touch is too heavy. the ball isn't trying to escape. so stop kicking it like it owes you money."
the other boys burst into laughter.
"HE DOES KICK LIKE THAT!"
"I TOLD YOU!"
blue shirt looked absolutely devastated.
you quietly walked over to sae. "amor."
"what?"
"they're like eight."
"yeah? they'll improve faster if someone tells them."
"... gently though. don’t you think?"
he blinked. "i am being gentle."
you stared at him. he stared back. he genuinely believed that.
one kid finally puffed his chest out and pointed. "then YOU do it!"
"okay."
sae slipped into the game without another word. he didn't sprint or even look particularly interested. he simply took one touch… another… nutmegged one kid so cleanly the poor boy actually turned around looking for the ball… threaded a pass between four tiny defenders… and flicked it perfectly into the makeshift goal.
"that's how."
there was complete silence before one little boy whispered with tears in his eyes: "i think i'm retiring..."
you had to physically turn away so they wouldn't see you laughing, even though your heart did break for them, too. but then… instead of walking off, sae picked the ball back up. "again."
the kids blinked. "what?"
"try again." he tossed the ball to number seven. "this time, ask for it."
the little boy hesitated. "... pass!" louder. "PASS!" the ball came to him. he actually trapped it. his face lit up like he'd just won the world cup. "i did it!"
"yeah."
"did you see?!"
"obviously."
there it was. so subtle you almost missed it. sae wasn't being mean just to be mean – he only refused to lie to them. if they messed up, he'd tell them. if they improved, he'd make them prove it. it was... strangely effective.
as the kids happily chased the ball again, you leaned closer. "is this why rin doesn't answer your calls?"
"mm, probably."
he said it with such complete indifference that you nearly laughed yourself into the grass. "you're unbelievable."
"he got better, didn't he?"
one of the boys suddenly shouted across the field: "MR. SAE! I ASKED FOR THE BALL!"
sae gave him a single nod. "good."
the child celebrated like he'd just received a knighthood.
you watched the scene unfold – the tiny boys running around with renewed determination, your boyfriend standing there with his usual unreadable expression, somehow crushing their egos and rebuilding them in the span of 10 minutes.
you sighed. "our future son is going to come crying to me after practice, isn't he?"
without missing a beat, sae answered, "only once."
"because you'll comfort him?"
"because he won't make the same mistake twice."
you now understood at least 80% of the itoshi brothers' childhood.
The coolest thing about Sokka? His fire bending, pregnant wife!reader!
Sokka x fem!reader- fluff, suggestive, pregnancy, adult sokka (takes place during avatar aang), established relationship, marriage. not proofread!
masterlist
You first officially met when he knocked you out with his boomerang. Daughter of a General, fire bending prodigy, you know the drill. His greatest accomplishment was making you 'fall head over heels' (as he called it) with him. Which wasn't wrong.
After the war was over, you decided to go back with him to the Southern Water Tribe where you both got married last year, and here you are now. Six months pregnant and watching him ramble to kids about his brand new inventions.
They were going on about water bending, and honestly, this was the most entertainment you've gotten in the past month. Sokka had grown to be a little bit too overbearing. Meaning, you've basically had to do nothing.
"Keep in mind, there are still plenty folks like me, who can't bend," Sokka reminds them, forgetting why he was always arguing with the same three children.
"Why would Avatar Aang partner with a nonbender?" One of the girls ask, crossing her arms.
"Why? I'll tell you why," he begins, making you let out a sigh as he begins rambling again.
"I saved him from the iceberg, my boomerang flew by his side while I carried away enemies with my trusty blade, I even took down the whole Fire Nation airship armada!" He lists off, "and on top of all that, I was more popular than him," he continues to go off, somehow ending up laid on his front before remembering the most important part,
"and I seduced the daughter of a Fire Nation General. My charms convinced her to join our side! And look at her now," he boasts, gesturing to you, to which you giggled awkwardly.
"You're such a liar Sokka. Your boomerang is useless," the boy huffs, tilting his head with an unimpressed expression.
"Yeah!" One of the girls agree, "the coolest thing about you is your girlfriend, and I'm concerned for her mental wellbeing after dating you,"
"Wife," he quickly corrected, before grinning, "and, do you know how we met?"
They all shake their heads.
"I hit her with my boomerang!"
"You hit your pregnant wife with your boomerang? That's awfull!" The older girl gasps.
"What? No! She wasn't pregnant when I met her- do you know how pregnancy works?" He exclaims, suddenly appearing at your side protectively, like he was offended.
They all shake their heads.
Sokka raises a confused eyebrow, "well when-"
"Nope!" You instantly cut him off with another awkward laugh. "Go ask your parents. We were sixteen and I was actually just saying hi to Appa when he threw his boomerang at me and knocked me out. Then he held me hostage-"
He cuts you off by covering your mouth with his palm, "oh baby you're so funny," he presses a kiss to your cheek and turns to the three kids, "pregnancy can make women remember things differently," he says, placing his hand on your baby bump.
"But yes, I did hit her with my boomerang. But once she woke up we healed her and she was soo smitten with me. She couldn't resist me," he shrugs, "right babe?"
"Right," you huff, suppressing a smile.
After another two minutes the kids leave, making him let out a relived sigh as he shuts the door behind them. "What's the point of them coming in here just to whine about me being a non bender?" He groans, walking back over to you.
"How's the baby doing?" He hums, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you onto the table. Before he can lean in for a kiss, you stop him.
"Nuh uh, don't change the subject. You held me hostage, tried to convince Aang and Katara to get a ransom for me, and then two weeks after you nearly got me killed by that crazy blood bender woman!" You remind him, draping your arms over his sculpted shoulders. "I was only trying to pet Appa!"
"You were a firebender and I thought you were trying to steal him!" He tries to defend himself.
"You held me captive."
"You were a firebender!"
"You had me tied up for two days straight with rocks on my hands."
"So you couldn't firebend!"
"Do you know what the worst part was?" You say, looking at him accusingly while trying to suppress laughter. He shook his head.
"You then tried to kiss me a week after like you hadn't just knocked me out, held me captive and tied up for two days, and tried to get a whole ass ransom for me!" You continue.
"And now I've knocked you up?" He says, wearing his boyish grin and a shrug.
This time you can't help but smile, "you're impossible Sokka. I wish I had standards," you tell him, cupping both his cheeks as he laughed.
"I know you're not mad at me," he says, tilting his head for you.
"How?"
"Because you steam when you get mad. Plus, the baby kicks me like it knows," he points out, resting his hands on your thighs.
"Fair enough. How's-"
You were cut off by a messenger bird flying in through the window and landing on the table next to you. "Huh?"
He looks at the bird for a second, "Its from Aang," he says, petting its head before taking out the message. He reads it outloud,
"To Sokka and (name), sorry if this is bad timing and hope (name) and the baby are doing well. I need your help against the Denied, both of your help would be great but I understand if it's too much with the baby on the way. If you can, please come immediately. Kind regards, Aang."
Your eyes widen, glancing down to the baby bump.
Sokka sighs and sets down the letter, "that's real bad timing. I don't want to leave you both," he tells you, looking up at you as you were still sat on the table.
"What do you mean? We're going. I can still firebend while pregnant Sokka," you reply, meeting his gaze.
"No way. Nuh uh. I am not letting my pregnant wife fight, it's too dangerous, for you, the baby, and my anxiety. I'll just stay here and tell Aang that we can't make it," he immediately argues, lifting you off the table and carrying you out of the workshop and into your house.
"Sokka. He needs our help. I get you being worried, but I don't even have to fight. I can still help with other stuff." You tell him, huffing as he gently drops you onto your bed.
"Baby-"
"Come on Sokka. Aren't the Denied just a bunch of nonbenders anyway?"
"I'm a nonbender!"
"Exactly my point,"
"You're mean, ma," he frowns, flopping down next to you.
"And you held me captive once."
"Stop using that against me!"
"I'll stop if we can go help Aang."
"You're evil. I'll think about it,"
“Oh and also- didn’t you dangle me off Appa, above the ocean like fifty feet high, and threatened to drop me if I didn’t give you information about something I didn’t even know about?”
His face drops, frowning. “Okay that was really bad now that I think about it,” he says, looking up at the ceiling, “but also when I think about it, I probably would’ve dropped you if it wasn’t for Aang,” he trails off, not thinking about what he said.
“Huh?”
“Well I’m glad I didn’t! You’re the best thing in my life baby, promise,” he tells you, now pressing kisses all over your face.
You frown, "remember when I moved across the world to be with you and I nearly froze to death and was incredibly sick?"
"Okay baby actually stop now. You know why I worry. If anything were to happen to you when we help Aang, I would die." He puts it quite plainly, putting a halt to the kisses.
"When? So we are going?"
Your beloved husband lets out a large groan, "fine! But you are doing minimal whatever, you're purely there for emotional support," he tells you, shifting on his side to look at you seriously.
"Okay! Promise. But he said it was urgent, so we should probably leave as soon as possible," you grin, running your nails over the shaven parts of his head (which he absolutely adored).
“I’m sure he can wait one more hour,” he says, flipping you gently onto your back and pressing his lips to yours.
You giggle into the kiss, “an hour? You forget that I’m pregnant and don’t have much stamina at the moment.”
He gasps and pulls back, “you’re so dirty minded ma,” he teases, kissing you again.
“But yes, you won’t have to do any work. We have to get it out of our system though, last time we visited Aang and Katara they kept getting noise complaints. Plus, Zuko nearly kicked us out of the palace once. You’re too loud.”
“I’m too loud? You’re the one who doesn’t stop talking!”
“You love my talking.”
“And you can’t go two days without-”
“Sue me for wanting to show my wife appreciation!”
“No because you were broke as fuck until we got together,”
“Just stop complaining about me, you let me put a baby in you. And you’re very picky when it comes to everything, I’m the whole package. I have the whole package,” he teases.
“And I’m starting to regret it.”
The baby kicks right where his hand was, making him get distracted and focus on the baby. “Oh she just kicked me! Did you see that?”
“Sokka she’s kicking my bladder, I need to pee,”
“Ha! So you do think it’s a girl,”
You keep a straight face at him, making him laugh and sit up. “Okay okay, sorry ma,” he huffs, scooping you up and taking you to your bathroom.
a/n- howww do I use banners guys 😢 and links and masterlists I’ve only ever written on wattpad 😞
Vivian needs to touch grass but he’d rather touch you!
Vivian Hugo x Reader Fluff (for once)
The villa’s sat on the French Rivera. It’s 5pm, stupidly quiet, no press, no football fields, just you and Vivian. He’s half in your lap on the outdoor sofa, his head resting on your chest, still in an Arsenal polo and sweats, phone open to some player tracking data he swore he’d stop looking at today.
You’ve got a book open (a real one with words) resting it atop his shoulder blades. You’re not paying much attention to it though, how can you, with your big hunk of a boyfriend sprawled on top of you like this.
“You’re supposed to be off,” you say, stealing his glasses and tossing them onto the table. He doesn’t really need the glasses, but you don’t bug him about it. At least they were blue light, protecting his pretty, onyx eyes that seemed to only soften when he looked at you.
Vivian blinks up at you, that same dead stare boring into you for a second before it turns soft. “I am off. This is recovery. Destiny requires it mon cœur”
You straddle his thighs, throwing your book on the table and tangling your hands in his hair. “Vivi. Touch grass.”
He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush, nose brushing your jaw. “I’m touching you. Waayy better than grass.” He mumbles.
You kiss him. He’s warm and smells like sunscreen and that expensive French cologne he pretends he doesn’t like. For once his mind isn’t racing, thinking about football or destiny. It’s just... slow. Safe. All yours.
Later there’ll be pasta, book debates, a nap in the sun, and a heated tennis battle that’ll really test your relationship. But, right now it’s just this. The pressure to win four World Cups gone. Radio silence on. Just you, him, and zero reason to leave.
i need him so bad he’s so big omg I need him like biblically baadddd holy fuck.
pls pls pls pls pls if the universe answers only one of my prayers
chat is it vivian or vivien. i thought it was vivien but everyone is saying vivian…
first time writing fluff lowkey nervous but im kind of tired of being a pervert.
i shall write smut later but also i feel like a pervert cause i love him sm but also #ineedthatsobad
should i do smaus guys
will work on requests in a bit and do other characters as well! requests, messages, asks are open so don’t be shy!
you had no malicious intention, really. but rin didn’t realize that and ended up saying some nasty things (“you’re a stupid and annoying poo-head!”) to you, which ended up had you sobbing while you explained that you were really just cleaning the ball because of the grime and dirt on it. rin ended up feeling bad and buying you an ice cream.
when you were eight, you stole rin’s glances.
he was always looking at you, and even when he was supposed to look somewhere else, his eyes stayed on you. like a moth drawn to a flame, he followed you around. he hid when he got shy, blushed when he got caught, and smiled when you talked to him. the reason for it was simple: he realized that you were pretty and nice, and so he liked you.
when you were eleven, you stole rin’s breath.
when he looked at you, his heart would quicken, he would go red, and he almost stopped breathing every time. he always found his heart skipping a beat and his breath quickening to the point where they were non-existent whenever you smiled. he didn’t understand it, it was weird. he wanted to ask sae about it, but he had already left for spain, so rin just assumed he was sick.
when you were fourteen, you stole rin’s first kiss.
it was just experimental; you had seen so many other classmates have their first kiss, and you had to admit that you felt a bit jealous. you wanted to have your first kiss too, but you wanted to save it for someone special. rin, not wanting to see you upset, awkwardly muttered that he was fine with kissing you. he didn’t know how to word it correctly, but it ended up okay in the end. you were both inexperienced and didn’t know how to kiss properly, but it was only a short and soft kiss after all.
when you were seventeen, you stole rin’s heart.
at this point, with the (unwanted) advice from stupid isagi and bachira, rin finally realized that he fell deep down the rabbit hole of being in love. his heart felt like exploding when you touched him, even if it was something as ridiculous as your fingers brushing accidentally. whenever he sees you, in all your ethereal glory, cheering for him in a game, he feels like he can score 50 more goals. the media had never seen the cold and calculating itoshi rin act like this, although the paparazzi and journalists enjoy every moment of his soft look whenever his eyes land on you.
when you were twenty, you stole rin’s virginity.
self explanatory, although rin was surprised he ever got it taken in the first place. it was an awkward first time for the both of you, and although you both had little to no idea of how the hell you do it, you both pulled through. after the session, rin only seemed to fall for you even more. even after he turned into this cold and rude soccer obsessed person, you never left him, and now you’re here, in front of him, sleeping softly in his arms after doing the most intimate things two humans can do with each other.
when you were twenty-three, you stole rin’s last name.
it was a day of tears, love, and eternality. rin’s eyes gleamed with tears when he saw you in that snow white dress, looking like the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen and ever will see. hearing someone call you by his last name, seeing you laugh and talk with his mother, seeing you holding a pastel bouquet of flowers while walking to him, they were all rin’s dream aside from winning the world cup. the shared kiss had much more experience and passion than the one from nine years ago, and you almost cried knowing just that.
finally, when you were twenty-six, you stole rin’s genetics.
okay, maybe you didn’t. he sort of gave it to you in a way…but your kids sure stole his genetics. bright teal eyes, exceptionally long underlashes, and an undeniable passion for soccer. even at 3 months old, your daughter can’t sleep without holding a soccer ball. rin has never been happier, his soccer career at it’s peak, being with his beautiful wife and daughter, and not heaving to worry about you stealing everything else, because you had already stolen everything from him.
you don't even realize you've accidentally posted one of the hardest soft-launch-adjacent boyfriend photos known to mankind until your notifications start looking like they're under attack because it's just a candid after the world cup final, confetti still stuck in his hair, his jersey wrinkled from 90+ minutes of war, and he's standing next to you with that stupidly bright grin while biting down on his gold medal like every athlete before him, except he's looking at you instead of the camera because the photographer said, "look over here!" and he heard your laugh instead.
you're standing beside him looking equally exhausted, your own hand still wrapped around his because you grabbed him the second the whistle blew and apparently never let go, and the funniest part is that the picture doesn't even scream "we're trying to be a couple." it more so gives "we forgot there were cameras because we've been celebrating together for the last 15 minutes.”
every guy looking at the story immediately notices three things in order: he's handsome, he won the world cup, and the first person he looked at wasn't the trophy or the crowd... it was you.
the caption makes it even worse because it's so confident without trying too hard: "crush em 🥇"
every football edit account is reposting it because the picture radiates the exact energy of, "yeah, we won. what about it?" and every guy is sitting there wondering why one tiny two-word caption feels like psychological warfare.
itoshi rin – “merry-go-round of life” by joe hisaishi
your story isn't glamorous whatsoever, which makes it infinitely more devastating because you're sitting on the floor in oversized pajamas, completely folded into your plush blanket with your legs crossed like you're eight years old again, absolutely locked into howl's moving castle playing across the TV as your eyes follow howl gracefully walking across the screen like your life depends on it.
what you don't know is that rin quietly picked up his phone halfway through the movie because he looked over at you for what was supposed to be one second and accidentally spent an embarrassing amount of time just... staring.
the picture he takes is painfully domestic. you're looking upward at the TV, completely unaware. rin is sitting directly behind you, one knee bent, his chin resting against your shoulder like that's simply where it belongs, his face tilted slightly toward your neck, and – against every law of nature – there's the smallest smile on his face.
i’m talking about that microscopic little smile people have to zoom in three times to confirm they're actually seeing. the smile reserved exclusively for someone who has absolutely no idea they're being looked at like they're the ending credits to a peaceful life.
the comments from your friends immediately become:
"IS THAT... RIN SMILING????"
"HELLO????"
"he looks like he wants to crawl inside your skin (respectfully)."
every guy who watches your story suddenly remembers they've never looked at anyone like that before and quietly exits instagram.
your caption absolutely buries them: "i was distracted by howl, but rin was distracted by something else."
rin pretends he hates that caption. but he totally saves the story before it expires.
itoshi sae – “cariño” by the marias
everybody expects your first story after spain wins the champions league to be a picture of sae lifting the trophy with his teammates. instead, it's you. because the first thing sae did after receiving the trophy wasn't lift it toward the cameras. it was walk over to you.
he wordlessly placed the entire world cup trophy into your hands despite it weighing way more than you expected, and the exact moment you made the most surprised face imaginable because of how heavy it actually was… he leaned over and kissed your cheek.
the photographer captured the exact frame where your eyes went wide, your mouth opened in complete surprise, one hand nearly slipping off the trophy because your brain temporarily stopped functioning, while sae looked entirely unfazed by the fact that he'd just hijacked every camera in the stadium.
he isn't even smiling. he's just looking at you like kissing you after becoming world champion was the most logical next step.
the trophy becomes the second thing everyone notices. the first thing everyone notices is that the coldest footballer alive apparently becomes casually affectionate around exactly one person.
your caption? "i almost dropped the trophy because of him 😭😭”
every sports page reposts it. every comment section becomes:
"he gave HER the trophy????"
“i'd retire immediately if i lost the champions league and saw this on my feed."
“everything i pray for god gives to sae itoshi and doubles it ”
nagi seishiro – “there’s no other” by felly
it's literally just an elevator mirror selfie. that's it. plain lighting in four boring walls. except nagi decided to flex one arm for absolutely no reason whatsoever after coming back from the gym, and instead of standing normally beside him like any reasonable girlfriend… you're hanging off his flexed bicep with both arms wrapped around it like a tiny koala.
your feet aren't even touching the floor anymore. you're fully committed, dangling, smiling like your life is wonderful.
on the other hand, nagi looks completely expressionless in the mirror as if carrying your entire body weight with one arm requires approximately zero effort.
the funniest part is that one of your shoes is visibly swinging in midair because you started laughing halfway through taking the picture.
every guy who sees it immediately starts calculating whether they, too, could casually hold their girlfriend off the ground with one arm. the answer is no.
nagi doesn't even notice why the story goes viral. he just says, “did people like your outfit or something? i mean those sweatpants were really cute…"
your caption makes it infinitely worse: "my favorite jungle gym."
nagi reposts it with absolutely no additional text. because, in his mind… it’s accurate.
mikage reo – “chicken on tree screaming”
nobody has context. nobody needs context. the picture alone tells the entire story.
reo is caught perfectly mid-fall after you planted the most disrespectful little kick directly into the back of his calves while he was walking ahead of you, his knees buckling just enough for his expensive balance to completely betray him as one designer sneaker leaves the ground and both arms instinctively shoot forward to catch himself.
you're standing one meter behind him absolutely crying with laughter because you managed to catch the exact frame where he realized he'd been attacked by the love of his life in broad daylight.
what makes it even funnier is that the picture was obviously taken using burst mode because every swipe after that is just reo slowly recovering while pointing at you in fake betrayal.
he wasn't hurt. but his pride absolutely was.
every single one of his teammates replies with variations of:
"LMAOOOOOOOO."
"deserved.”
"she finally humbled you bro."
reo immediately reposts it saying, "this is domestic terrorism."
your original caption, however, completely steals the show: "i make his knees weak 😍"
every guy reading it physically has to put their phone down because you've turned playful assault into the cutest couple post of the week.
reo complains for exactly five minutes before secretly making the burst photos his favorites because, in his words, "it's nice knowing i'm the reason you laugh like that."
bachira meguru – “cooking mama” song
this entire situation starts because bachira decides that walking is "too much work" after training, spots you sitting on the couch scrolling through your phone, and without asking a single question, simply walks over, turns around, and plops his entire body weight directly onto you like you're a human beanbag.
except he doesn't sit next to you. he sits ON you completely – legs folded, elbows on his knees, humming to himself.
you're underneath him making the most dramatic face imaginable because this grown professional footballer somehow weighs approximately one million pounds despite looking like he lives exclusively on monster energy and bad decisions.
"megs."
"hm?"
"i'm… literally dying…"
"no, you're not."
"my ancestors can… see me..."
"tell them i said hi."
your friend walks into the living room, immediately starts laughing instead of helping, pulls out their phone, and snaps the picture before either of you can react.
the final image is criminal. bachira is smiling so brightly he practically has cartoon sparkles around him while completely unaware (or maybe fully aware) of the fact that your face is visibly squished into the couch cushions underneath him, one arm sticking out dramatically like you're reaching toward heaven for salvation.
every single reply is some variation of:
"GET UP???"
"FREE HER."
“i think you’re suffocating her…"
your caption? "this FATASS."
bachira's only response is sending you seventeen crying emojis before sitting on you again out of spite.
shidou ryusei – “careless whisper” by george michael
you thought making dinner together would be romantic, genuinely, like a domestic diaries dream come true. candles? maybe. music? matching aprons? no.
instead, you're approximately 12 seconds away from calling the fire department. because shidou caused an ordinary pan to erupt into a genuinely concerning wall of flames that's reaching so high it almost kisses the range hood, and rather than reacting like a normal human being… shidou is loving every second of it.
your mutual friend had volunteered to take cute candid pictures of the two of you cooking together, expecting wholesome domestic content. what they actually captured belongs in a museum.
you're clutching the spatula with both hands while leaning as far away from the stove as physically possible, eyes wide, mouth open, visibly screaming something along the lines of, "RYUSEI, WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'LET IT COOK'?"
shidou is standing beside you grinning like the world's biggest menace, tongue sticking out, one hand on his hip while the other confidently points at the inferno as if he personally invented fire. "LOOK AT THAT FLAME!"
"THAT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!"
"IT LOOKS AWESOME!"
"WE'RE GOING TO DIE!"
"BUT WE'LL DIE FLAVORFUL."
that's the picture your friend sends you afterward. somehow… it's adorable. people can't decide whether they're witnessing relationship goals or an insurance claim.
your caption perfectly summarizes the relationship. "he said dinner was gonna be fire. should've asked him to elaborate."
shidou reposts it with: "worth it btw."
the smoke detector can actually be heard in the background of the next story.
karasu tabito – “DEVOTION” by justin bieber
everyone assumes something horrible must've happened because the picture is just you clocking karasu across the face with a fluffy pillow at full force while feathers are literally exploding into the air like an action movie.
the timing is so perfect that karasu's head has already started turning from the impact, one eye squeezed shut, mouth still half-open because he didn't even get to finish whatever sentence got him into this situation.
the funniest part is that he isn't defending himself. because deep down… he knows he earned it.
five seconds before the picture was taken, he'd looked you dead in the eyes with the most insufferable smirk imaginable and said something so unbelievably sarcastic that your soul temporarily left your body.
"ya look… acceptable."
WHACK.
"... aight… fair enough… i deserved that."
your friend, instead of intervening like a responsible adult, nearly drops their phone from laughing before managing to capture the exact moment justice was served.
everyone immediately starts replying:
"WHAT DID HE SAY."
"I JUST KNOW HE DESERVED THAT."
"CONTEXT???"
karasu refuses to provide context. he knows the mystery somehow makes him look guiltier. and also, he’d rather keep some things private, too, as they’re more special that way.
but your caption? "he opened his mouth."
yeah… explanation unnecessary.
kaiser michael – “the shining” by the neighbourhood
it was supposed to be one of those breathtakingly romantic pictures you'd frame someday – a field overflowing with wildflowers stretching across the horizon, golden hour, soft sunlight, cinematic breeze. everything was literally perfect. except the weather decided it personally hated michael kaiser.
the wind absolutely adores you. your hair lifts beautifully around your face like you're starring in the final scene of an award-winning romance film, the flowers swaying gently around your ankles while you look effortlessly majestic.
then there's kaiser. his expensive hairstyle is experiencing total structural collapse. blue-tipped blond strands keep slapping him directly across the face. one piece ends up in his mouth. he's squinting so aggressively against the wind that he accidentally looks annoyed instead of handsome.
you're standing beside him looking like a literal renaissance painting, mogging him.
he sees the picture afterward. "delete it."
"no."
"i look ridiculous."
"i look ethereal."
"... exactly."
he still secretly saves it because despite looking like mother nature personally jumped him… you're smiling at him. and that's enough.
the caption absolutely twists the knife: "one of us got the disney princess treatment 🌼"
everyone already knows which one.
kaiser pretends to hate the post. then quietly makes it his lock screen because it's his favorite picture of you. he just crops himself out.
ness alexis – “gangnam style” by PSY
the two of you stumble across a tiny café with no sign, no social media, and approximately four tables outside, deciding that places like this always have either the greatest drinks imaginable or the absolute worst beverages ever conceived. naturally, you both order something neither of you can pronounce.
your first sip? incredible. your entire face lights up immediately, eyes widening as you excitedly shove your drink toward ness insisting, "oh my gosh, taste this."
he trusts you. poor decision. the exact moment he takes a sip, every muscle in his face begins filing for resignation. his nose wrinkles. one eye closes. his eyebrows knit together. his lips purse into the tiniest offended pout.
he's trying so desperately to be polite because the owner is literally watching from inside… but his face has already betrayed him.
you're sitting across from him absolutely beaming because your drink tastes like heaven while trying (and failing) not to laugh at the tiny crisis unfolding across the table.
a friend walking past recognizes the two of you, quietly snaps the picture through the café window, and sends it later.
it's one of your favorite pictures ever. ness's little sour expression is painfully adorable. he looks like an angry kitten that accidentally licked a lemon. you tell him that.
he sighs. “i'm never trusting your recommendations in drinks again."
10 minutes later, he's stealing sips from your cup anyway.
your caption? "he's so dramatic."
ness immediately messages you. "i did NOT make that face."
you send the picture back.
typing… typing… "... okay maybe i did."
chigiri hyoma – “bad thing (bunny hop)” by ariana grande
everyone thinks it's going to be some breathtakingly aesthetic couple photo because, let's be honest, it's the two of you. the lighting is perfect, the background is pretty and chigiri manages to look like he walked straight out of a luxury skincare campaign without even trying.
except… neither of you is looking at the camera. you're looking at each other.
specifically, you're giving him the most unimpressed side-eye imaginable because he'd spent the last 20 minutes deliberately poking your cheek every time you tried to take a nice picture.
"stop moving."
poke.
"hyoma."
poke.
"i swear to–”
"your angry face is cute."
"oh you're about to see a cuter one."
the photographer catches the exact second where you've finally turned your head to glare at him. chigiri is already looking back. and despite wearing the exact same mildly smug expression he always has… there's the tiniest smile hiding at the corner of his mouth because he knows you're not actually mad.
it's the kind of look that says, you annoy me… but i like you anyway.
every girl comments about how pretty chigiri is.
every guy comments about how they wish someone looked at them with that much fond exasperation.
your caption says everything: "he's lucky he's pretty."
chigiri immediately reposts it: "still your favorite."
ugh he's right.
barou shoei – “otsukare summer” by HALCALI
barou has spent years cultivating the most intimidating public image possible – a terrifying and untouchable king with an aura so overwhelming defenders start reconsidering their career choices.
and then you discover snapchat filters. specifically… the one that gives someone gigantic glossy anime eyes, rosy cheeks, fluttering eyelashes, and tiny sparkly cat ears.
he only let you take one picture because you promised that nobody else would ever see it. you technically keep your promise. because it's only on your close friends story. which, unfortunately for him… includes half the blue lock facility.
the picture itself is absolutely catastrophic. barou is sitting there with the most aggressively serious expression imaginable while sporting giant sparkling eyes and pink blush that makes him look like a magical girl who's about to transform. the contrast makes it 10x funnier.
he doesn't even know how filters work. "why's my face like that?"
"because you're pretty."
"delete it."
"no."
"i'm serious."
"so is the filter."
your caption? "barou, barou-kyun!! 🩷"
barou finds out approximately four minutes later because his teammates refuse to stop laughing.
your phone receives exactly one message: "you're cleaning the entire house."
yukimiya kenyu – “juicy” by doja cat
this picture genuinely looks suspicious out of context, which is exactly why you posted it. yukimiya is standing, hands tucked into his pockets, back facing the camera while he casually turns his head over his shoulder. he looks like he's posing for the cover of a magazine, naturally. because that's just what yukimiya does by existing.
you're crouched behind him, one hand planted directly on his ass. your eyes are comically wide. your mouth is hanging open in fake disbelief. you're staring at your own hand like you've just unearthed an ancient archaeological treasure. the friend taking the picture is laughing so hard the image is almost blurry.
yukimiya sighs. "are you done?"
"i'm conducting scientific research."
"on what?"
"cake.”
"... in the public server?”
people online cannot decide whether to laugh or mind their business. nobody chooses the second option.
your caption? "archaeologists finally found it."
yukimiya comments: "please stop documenting your discoveries."
you heart the comment.
iglesias bunny – “pony” by ginuwine
bunny insisted the bunny café would be "healing." throughout the entire ride there, he kept saying things like: "it's impossible to have a bad day around rabbits."
five minutes later… karma arrives. he's sitting at one of the low wooden tables with the fluffiest white bunny imaginable cradled carefully in both hands, smiling so brightly you can practically see sunshine radiating off him.
then… the bunny shits. directly into his palm.
for exactly two seconds… there's silence. then bunny absolutely loses it. he starts laughing so hard his shoulders shake. his ears turn bright red. his face follows. tears are literally forming in the corners of his eyes because he cannot stop laughing at the sheer disrespect of the situation.
"IT PICKED ME."
"IT DID."
"WHY ME?"
"YOU LOOKED TRUSTWORTHY."
"I AM THE CHOSEN ONE!!"
instead of helping, you take the picture. the final photo is adorable. bunny is doubled over laughing with the world's tiniest rabbit still sitting comfortably in his hands like absolutely nothing happened, even though the evidence remains.
your caption: "bf got blessed with shit i’m crine 😭”
bunny reposts it immediately with: "i've never been more honored."
hugo vivian – “la mentira” by luis miguel
hugo is physically one of the most intimidating footballers on the planet. he’s built like he was assembled in a laboratory – shoulders the width of a doorway and arms that could probably lift an entire refrigerator without warming up. it makes you wonder what he ate growing up to be so big.
and yet… he becomes the neediest man alive the second you jokingly threaten to leave without him.
"bye."
"..."
"i'm serious."
"..."
you take exactly three steps away. then something grabs your leg. you look down. there's hugo, crouched on the floor, both enormous arms wrapped dramatically around your right leg like it's the last life raft on earth.
he's looking up at you with the most exaggerated pout you've ever seen. his eyebrows are knitted together. his lower lip is sticking out. he looks like someone just told him sci-fi films don’t exist anymore.
the funniest part? you purposely angle the camera so only your legs are visible. the entire focus is hugo clinging to you for dear life.
"vivi. people are watching."
"good."
"stand up."
"carry me."
"you're six-foot-something."
"and?"
every reply immediately says the same thing: "THAT MAN IS WHIPPED."
yes. yes he is.
your caption is the finisher: "ignore him. he does this."
isagi has spent so much of his life analyzing people that he notices things you don't even realize you're doing. you always hand him the prettier bowl when you're eating ramen together. when you walk on the sidewalk, you unconsciously switch places with him whenever a bike comes speeding by because you want to be closer to the road instead. when he's talking about football, your eyes never wander. you don't check your phone. you don't interrupt. you look at him like he's explaining the stars.
and one day he blurts out, "why do you always look at me like that?"
"like what?"
"like everything i'm saying matters."
"because it does?"
congratulations. you've accidentally turned the world's greatest striker into a microsoft windows error message yayayayayay!!!
he's smiling, but he's also looking away because his ears are bright red. his heart genuinely starts racing because, to him, being understood is infinitely more intimate than being admired.
whenever he gets home after training, you don't greet him with dramatic hugs or kisses. you just look up from whatever you're doing and instinctively scoot over on the couch. that's it. you made room. every. single. time.
eventually, he realizes you never even think about it anymore. your body just automatically saves space for him because somewhere along the line, your brain categorized him as home. he almost cries over six inches of couch cushion.
sometimes, while he's reviewing match footage late at night, you quietly sit beside him with your own hobby. maybe you're reading, drawing, playing a handheld game – anything. you don't ask him to stop working. you don't complain. you just exist beside him.
every so often he'll look over, see your head leaning against his shoulder without you realizing, and completely forget what tactical formation he was studying.
"yoichi?"
"... sorry."
"you okay?"
"i forgot football existed for a second. because… all i saw was you."
itoshi rin
rin isn't used to physical affection initiated without hesitation. so the first time you're walking together and absentmindedly fix his collar before anyone can see it crooked – because it bothered you – he actually stops walking.
"... what are you doing."
"your collar."
"... oh."
"is that okay?"
it’s totally okay to him, but his internal monologue is in complete shambles: she noticed. she touched me. she fixed it. she didn't even make a big deal about it. he spends the next four hours thinking about those three seconds.
whenever he's concentrating, you unconsciously reach over and smooth his hair back out of his face – a tiny little motion so he can see better. it starts becoming muscle memory for both of you. he'll be reading something, pause for half a second because a strand falls into his eyes… and wait. because he knows you'll move it.
when you do, he pretends absolutely nothing happened. inside? fireworks. outside? "thanks." inside? marry me right now.
the thing that absolutely destroys him is when you defend him without making him feel like he's incapable. someone says, "rin's kind of an asshole." before he can even respond–
"he's actually really considerate."
"?"
"he remembered i said i liked this drink three months ago and bought it without asking."
rin stops. you noticed. nobody notices. nobody looks past the sharp edges. but you always do.
and now he has to stare out the window for the next 20 minutes because if he looks at you, he's afraid the expression on his face might give him away.
itoshi sae
sae isn't very verbally affectionate. neither are you. that’s why you’re the perfect match.
the way you love him is by remembering microscopic details. one afternoon you're at a café, and before the waiter even asks, you order for yourself, then look at sae.
"and no fries with his."
sae blinks. "... i wasn't going to say anything."
"i know."
"you remembered."
"you don't like them."
it's such an insignificant thing, but somebody remembered something about him that everyone else forgets. he's cooked.
every time you take pictures together, you never ask him to smile. you know he won't. rather instead, you quietly tell him – "look at me." and you take the photo while he's already looking at you. every picture ends up softer. the only time his expression naturally changes is when he's looking at someone he loves.
when you show him afterward, he’ll say, "oh wow… this one's nice."
"yeah."
"i’m keeping it."
at home, he's secretly changing it to his lock screen three hours later.
after particularly exhausting matches, you never ask him how he played. you ask – "how's your body?"
"’s fine."
"don't lie."
"... my legs hurt."
"i figured." you already have pain patches in your bag.
sae has spent years being valued for what he can produce on the pitch. you ask about him, not his performance. it ruins him every single time.
nagi seishiro
nagi's favorite thing in the entire world becomes when you're doing absolutely nothing together. you're both lying on the bed. you're scrolling on your phone. he's playing a game.
at some point, completely unconsciously, your thigh reaches over until it's touching his. that's all. he glances down. then at you.
"did you mean to do that?"
"huh?" you look down. "oh." you never even noticed. "sorry."
"don't move." now his entire body feels warm. the fact that your body naturally searches for his without permission? he's finished.
every time he falls asleep somewhere ridiculous – couch, airport chair, team bus, hotel lobby – you automatically cover him with your hoodie or coat or jacket if you have one.
one day, he wakes up before you realize he's awake. he watches you gently pull your jacket over him before going back to whatever you were doing.
"... thanks."
"oh, you're awake."
"... do you always do that?"
"yeah?"
"why?"
"because you get cold."
he has never wanted to marry someone more over a sentence that simple.
whenever he gets excited talking about games, you don't pretend to understand. you actually ask questions. like "wait, so that's the final boss?"
"yeah."
"that's sick."
"right?"
now he's talking with his hands, sitting up straighter, rambling for 15 straight minutes. halfway through, he pauses. "sorry."
"for what?"
"i've been talking forever."
"i know."
"you don't mind?"
"i like hearing you happy."
game over. you have defeated nagi seishiro without even picking up the controller.
mikage reo
reo gives people things all the time – gifts, favors, opportunities, expensive dinners, the list goes on. what nobody gives him is the chance to be taken care of first.
one rainy day, before he can even open the umbrella he's carrying, you've already opened yours above both of your heads.
"mine's literally in my hand."
"yeah, but this one's already open."
"you..." he laughs. but for the next 10 minutes he cannot stop smiling because nobody has ever beaten him to taking care of someone else.
you hype him up when nobody's watching. after practice, while he's complaining about a mistake, you gently cut him off. "you know..."
"hm?"
"i think you're cooler than you realize."
"... where did that come from?"
"just thought you should know."
there’s no audience, teammates, cameras, or reason to flatter him. just pure honesty. and that's exactly why it sticks. he remembers that sentence for months, especially during the harder moments.
every once in a while, you reach for his hand first. sometimes you're asking for reassurance. other times, you just wanted to hold it. reo has initiated hand-holding thousands of times. but the first time you absentmindedly intertwine your fingers with his while walking through the city, he completely loses his train of thought mid-sentence.
"reo?"
"... yeah?"
"weren't you saying something?"
"... i was."
"?"
"... i forgot." because all he can think is that you chose him first. he didn’t offer, nor did he ask. loving him has become your first instinct.
for someone who's spent his entire life wondering whether people loved him or simply loved what he could give, that quiet certainty makes him fall for you all over again.
bachira meguru
bachira absolutely lives for physical affection, but the thing that gets him the worst isn't when he clings to you. it's when you start unconsciously copying him.
one afternoon, he's sprawled across the couch, doodling in a notebook while you read beside him. without even realizing it, you lean over until your head is resting against his shoulder. you don't even look up from your book. you just, like, migrate. like your body decided, yeah, this is a comfortable place to be.
bachira stops drawing. "... you're cuddling me."
"am i?"
"yeah."
"... should i–"
“no. don't move."
he sits there grinning so hard his cheeks hurt because the affection wasn't asked for, wasn't planned, wasn't even conscious. your body sought him out before your brain did. the monster is literally kicking his feet.
you never laugh at his weirdness. you laugh with it. he says something completely absurd like, "what if pigeons have secret governments?"
and instead of staring at him like he's insane, you nod seriously. "that explains why they're always in groups."
"RIGHT???"
now the two of you are spending 25 minutes building an elaborate conspiracy theory about pigeons running the economy.
afterward, he just looks at you with stars in his eyes. "you're my favorite person."
"because i support your delusions?"
"because you make them fun."
bachira has spent his life being called strange. you make him feel like strange is simply another word for home.
sometimes he'll wake up before you. he'll find you half-asleep, instinctively reaching around the bed until your hand finds him. the second your fingers brush against his arm, your hand relaxes, like your brain went, found him. okay. continue sleeping.
bachira nearly combusts. he has to physically bite his lip to stop himself from squealing (and waking you up).
shidou ryusei
everyone expects shidou's relationship to be loud, chaotic, explosive. what absolutely destroys him is how unbelievably gentle you are with him. after a rough match, he's bouncing off the walls, adrenaline still pumping. but surprisingly, you don’t tell him to calm down... you simply walk over, cup his face with both hands, and quietly ask, "you done breaking people's ankles today?"
"... yeah."
"good."
“... you gonna kiss me or keep holding my face?"
"i'm checking for bruises."
shidou thinks this feeling is better than scoring the winning goal.
he has spent his entire life being treated like something people had to manage. you're standing here making sure his cheek doesn't hurt. you're one of the only people who can make him genuinely blush. how? complimenting him when he's not doing something cool.
you catch him tying his hair up. "you're pretty."
"what?"
"nothing. that slipped out.."
"HEY!"
"hm?"
"... don't say stuff like that so casually."
"why?"
"because… my heart's doing weird things."
he loves kisses. you know what he loves even more? when you randomly hold the back of his neck. not even romantically. maybe you're guiding him around someone in a crowded hallway or fixing the collar of his shirt or absentmindedly rubbing the nape of his neck while talking. every single time, his brain completely blue-screens.
"you know that's unfair."
"what is?"
"that."
"what is that?"
"... you touching my neck."
"oh?"
"... i forget my own name for a second."
karasu tabito
karasu is sarcastic by nature. he teases everyone, especially you. so the first time you effortlessly beat him at his own game... he's intrigued. he says, "damn, look at ya. finally usin’ that brain."
without looking up from your phone, you answer, "thanks. i learned from watching you struggle."
"... excuse me?"
"you heard me."
his teammates are laughing. you're smiling innocently. and karasu... karasu is trying very hard not to smile like an idiot. that's my person.
you always notice when he's mentally tired before he says anything. he's still talking, joking, and acting like himself. but you quietly slide a drink toward him. "you've been talking for like... three hours."
"... have i?"
"yeah."
"damn."
"rest your voice."
he stares at the bottle for a second. everyone notices when karasu is loud. you notice when he's exhausted.
every once in a while, while he's ranting about literally anything, you'll reach over and absentmindedly play with his fingers. you're still listening and responding. you're just tracing one because your hands wanted something to do. karasu completely loses his train of thought.
"you okay, tabi? you can keep talking."
"... can't."
"why?"
"... yer holdin’ my hand without holdin’ my hand. that's kinda– really dangerous."
kaiser michael
kaiser expects admiration. he's used to people staring, praising, chasing, adoring. what absolutely dismantles him is when you quietly do something thoughtful that nobody else would ever think about.
you've noticed he always finishes the drink closest to room temperature first before touching the cold one. so one afternoon, you casually swap the cups around before handing them to him.
"... how'd you know?"
"you always do it."
"you noticed that?"
"i notice a lot."
for someone who has spent his whole career being looked at... being observed is infinitely more intimate. after all, observation requires attention.
sometimes you'll adjust his collar while talking to him. you don't interrupt yourself or announce it. you simply straighten the fabric because it flipped backwards. "there."
"ah, thanks.” kaiser is internally screaming because your fingers brushed his chest for half a second and you treated it like the most natural thing in the world, like touching him is simply part of your routine. it makes him feel normal and cherished – something he never thought he'd crave.
after interviews, everyone talks about his goals or his aura or his ego. you look at him and ask, "did you eat yet?"
"... no."
"figured.”
"... that's all you're gonna ask?"
"unless you secretly scored six goals instead of two."
"i only scored two."
"cool. now let's get dinner."
he laughs so softly it's almost inaudible.
for an hour, the entire world treated him like michael kaiser. then he came back to you and you treated him like someone worth feeding before celebrating.
ness alexis
ness loves talking. okay wait, correction: ness loves talking to you. because unlike everyone else, you never make him feel annoying. he'll spend 15 straight minutes explaining some ridiculously niche topic. halfway through, he pauses. "am i talking too much?"
"probably. but keep going."
"... really?"
"you're making cute little hand gestures."
"... you noticed my hand gestures?"
you have accidentally rendered alexis ness speechless.
whenever you're walking together, you unconsciously fix tiny things about him – lint on his sleeve, his crooked tie, hair sticking up. you never even mention it. just… boop. fixed. every single time.
eventually, he starts standing still whenever you get close. "nessie baby, what are you doing?"
"... waiting."
"for?"
"... you usually fix something."
"oh." you smooth one stubborn strand of hair back into place. he smiles so brightly you'd think you handed him the moon. he’s just so addicted to your touch.
the thing that absolutely gets him bad is when you brag about him to other people while he's close enough to overhear. someone asks, "is ness always this talkative?"
you grin. "yeah. but i like it."
"really?"
"he gets excited over the smallest things. i think it's adorable."
ness was fully prepared for you to apologize on his behalf. but rather, you defended the very thing he worries makes him "too much." he has to turn away for a second because his eyes suddenly sting. then five minutes later, he's right back beside you, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.
"... hey."
"yeah?"
"... can i hold your hand?"
"you were already doing that."
"... oh. haha. good."
chigiri hyoma
chigiri is used to people complimenting him. his speed, his face, his hair – sometimes all three in the same sentence. but the thing that completely catches him off guard is when you're the one who quietly takes care of his hair after practice.
the two of you are sitting in the locker room after everyone else has started leaving, and he's absentmindedly trying to tie his still-damp hair into a ponytail with one hand while looking at his phone.
you sigh. "give me."
"hm?"
"the hair tie.”
"oh." he hands it over without thinking.
you stand behind him, gently combing your fingers through his hair before tying it up properly, smoothing out the little bumps like you've done it a hundred times. "too tight?"
"no."
he catches his reflection in the mirror afterward. his hair is neat and comfortable, exactly how he likes it. "wow. thanks."
"you're welcome."
he doesn't tell you this, but nobody has ever touched his hair so carefully without making it feel like they were admiring it. you handled it like it was simply another part of him. that's infinitely more intimate. he feels like he’s going crazy because of that.
whenever you're shopping together, you'll instinctively reach toward the clothing racks before he does. "this would look good on you."
"you think so?"
"yeah. and this color would make your eyes stand out."
he's trying on sweaters he would've walked right past, scarves he'd never have picked, jackets he didn't know he'd like. he realizes halfway through that you don't dress him because he's pretty. you dress him because you've spent enough time looking at him to know exactly what makes him feel like himself.
the changing room curtain closes. he leans against the wall. she pays way too much attention to me... and he hopes you never stop.
you never rush him after difficult matches. everyone else asks, "are you okay?" you simply hold your hand out. "ready?"
he looks at it. then at you. "... yeah." he takes it, your fingers wrapped around his as you walk beside him in comfortable silence.
he thinks that's probably what healing feels like.
barou shoei
barou would rather pass away than admit he likes being taken care of. so naturally... you don't make a big deal out of doing it. you come over to his apartment. he's cooking. you notice the cabinet above him is open. without interrupting your conversation, you reach up and close it before he inevitably walks into it.
"thanks."
"mhm."
10 minutes later, you wipe a tiny streak of flour off his cheek while continuing your story like nothing happened. "and then she actually said–"
"you just touched my face."
"yeah?"
"... why?"
"because you had flour on it."
"... oh." he's genuinely offended by how quickly his heart folded.
barou pretends he doesn't need reassurance. but after losses... he gets quieter. one night, he's sitting on the balcony staring into the distance. you don't tell him he played well. you don't tell him to cheer up. you simply sit beside him until your shoulders touch. after a while, you quietly say, "i'm still proud of you."
he exhales so slowly you almost miss it. "don't say stuff like that."
"why?"
"... because i'll start believing you."
you smile. "good."
he has to look away because if he doesn't, you'll see exactly how close he is to folding.
the quickest way to make barou malfunction is by trusting him before he even asks. it’s a crowded street. you're distracted. without looking, you reach for his hand. you already know he'll be there. your fingers slip between his naturally.
barou forgets what he was about to say. all his brain can manage is – she reached for me first.
don't expect him to let go for the next hour.
yukimiya kenyu
yukimiya knows people look at him. he's a handsome model that’s used to being perceived. but you? you make him feel seen. one evening, you're helping him pack for an away match. you quietly tuck an extra pair of sunglasses into the side pocket of his bag.
"i already packed one, love."
"i know."
"then…?"
"because last month you couldn't find yours and spent almost half an hour pretending the sun wasn't bothering you."
"... you remembered that?"
"of course i did."
yukimiya just stares at you. he barely remembers saying anything about it. yet you remembered it well.
he'll be talking passionately about fashion or photography, expecting you to politely nod. instead, you go – "wait, show me."
"hm?"
"the picture you're talking about."
"really?"
"yeah. i wanna see what you see."
that sentence alone nearly knocks the wind out of him.
people always admire his perspective. very few people actually want to step inside it. you do.
whenever the sunlight gets too harsh, you'll instinctively move so you're casting a little bit of shade over him. you don't even notice you're doing it. you're just standing slightly in front of him while talking.
"why're you standing there?"
"huh?"
"you're blocking the sun."
"oh. it's getting in your eyes, right?"
his chest aches. you notice before he even says a word.
iglesias bunny
bunny is constantly moving as a member of the new gen 11. there’s always cameras, interviews, training, flights, etc. you're the only person who never makes him feel like he has to perform.
the thing that gets him every single time is when you greet him exactly the same whether he's just won the champions league... or lost in the quarterfinals.
"hi."
"hi."
"i missed you."
"i missed you, too."
no "congratulations!" no "i'm sorry." those can wait. your first instinct is always him. not the footballer. your boyfriend. and every single time, he melts.
bunny loves making you laugh, but what absolutely folds him is when he catches you smiling at him before he notices. he'll be joking around with his teammates across the room. then he glances over. you're already looking, smiling to yourself, like watching him exist makes you happy.
"what is it, cariño?"
"nothing."
"you're smiling."
"am i not allowed to?"
he has to physically look away. if he keeps eye contact any longer, he's going to walk over and kiss you in front of everybody.
one day, he complains that his hands are freezing after training. without thinking, you take one of his hands and tuck it into the pocket of your coat while keeping yours in there, too. "there."
"that's your solution?"
"it's working."
"..."
"are you okay…?"
"don't move."
"why?"
"because i'm imagining doing this when we're 80 and wrinkly.”
hugo vivian
hugo has a naturally intimidating presence. he has broad shoulders and quiet confidence, the kind of guy strangers instinctively move out of the way for. you, however, have absolutely zero fear of invading his personal space.
if there's a loose thread on his sleeve? you're already pulling it off. his tie's crooked? fixed. lint on his coat? gone. all while continuing your conversation as though adjusting a six-foot-something professional footballer is the most normal thing in the world.
"you know..."
"yes?”
"you've never once asked before touching me."
you blink. "i’m sorry. do you want me to?"
“no. please keep doing it." the volume of his voice is like a whisper.
hugo isn't particularly expressive. so you've learned to celebrate the little victories. one tiny smile after training? "there it is."
"what is?"
"your smile."
"... i smiled?"
"for like... half a second."
he is absolutely doomed. you notice everything.
one rainy afternoon in paris, the two of you are sharing an umbrella. a passing car splashes water toward the sidewalk. before hugo can react... you've already stepped in front of him. the water hits your shoes instead.
"hey, why did you do that?"
"instinct?"
"i'm supposed to protect you."
you shrug. "guess we're protecting each other."
he looks at you for a long moment. then quietly carries you on his back for the rest of the walk home because he refuses to let your shoes get soaked any further.
there isn't a single teasing remark or joke. just a grip that's a little tighter than usual because, for perhaps the first time in his life, someone else's first instinct was to shield him, too.
your breeding kink Dick drabble got me thinking about Tim with a breeding kink ☺️
(this is a req but don’t rush to complete it, this time of the year is buuusy for writers lol)
you had expected TIM DRAKE to laugh when you had said it; maybe roll his pretty blue irises, swat at your nose playfully-- when you accused your boyfriend of not missing you during his two week stake-out mission.
but all you had gotten, much to your surprise, was a half-hearted scowl, and a sudden iron grip on your upper forearm dragging you to your bedroom.
tim's chain, silver and sleek, dangled within your face tauntingly as the plap, plap, plap! of skin reverberated throughout the confinements of your room-- each thrust pointed and mocking at your words. "you really think i didn't miss you?" tim groans near the shell of your ear, tongue darting outwards to lick a crude stripe up your neck, "think i didn't fuck my fist to the thought of filling you up with my cum every chance i got?"
"fuck, tim--!" you gasp, legs locking and twitching around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back-- only keeping his cock snug within your cunt and kissing your g-spot. "i--"
plump lips kissed raw collide onto your own-- effectively shutting you up. again and again and again, tim continues to drive his dick into you with a reckless sort of passion; one that doesn't always need to prove anything-- but tonight, very much does. "well i did," tim mumbles against your lips, hips slamming against yours, "wasted so much of my cum when it shoulda been inside of your pretty fuckin' pussy instead,"
a pretty arch off of your bed forms at tim's words, your back pressing your chest impossibly closer to your boyfriend's. your nipples, stiffened and cold, brush against tim's chest and your entire body shudders.
"but it's okay," he concedes, slowly pulling his lips away from your own-- a string of saliva keeping you both connected mockingly. "'cause i'm jus' going to keep cumming inside of you, again n' again," he whispers, black strands of hair clinging to his forehead, "til' i don't have anymore left to fill you up."
one of tim's hands dips in-between the space of both your sweat slicked bodies-- his fingers easily finding your clit, only to roll tight and precise circles onto the sensitive bud. your head tilts backwards, further into your pillow, at the sensation-- and you cry out incoherently, far too cock-drunk to say anything tim can understand.
his laugh ghosts across your lips, coupled with the sweet sound of his moans. "yeah, bet you'd like that," he murmurs, almost to himself as his cock continues to drive in and out of your sopping cunt, "fuck-- with the way this pretty pussy s'milking me, i don't think it'll take long,"
your cunt clenches and spasms at his words-- his dick pulsating within you, leaking pre-cum, in response. your entire body quivers, a visceral sort of urge yearning impossibly for your boyfriend's cum.
"maybe i'll get you pregnant," tim blurts suddenly, a strangled moan falling from his lips at his own words-- as if the arousal the idea brings him is insurmountable and incapable of being contained. "breed this gorgeous pussy,"
"yes--!" you gasp, helplessly twitching closer to tim's body, as if in an attempt to get you closer than physical barriers will allow. "please, need you to cum inside of me so, so bad-- give me a baby, prove you missed me,"
your desperate rambling is akin to heroin for tim; his hips stutter into your body, cock pulsing and twitching achingly within your pussy-- which is soaked almost to an embarrassing extent. "fuck," tim curses, crease between his brows deepening as his thrusts grow erratic and hand moves passionately at your cunt, "m'going to cum," he announces shakily, bottoming out within you. "shiit, been wanting to cum inside you so badly, fucking stuff you so full of me you'll be dripping for weeks."
the repeated pulse of his cock inside of you is addictive-- sending shocks of pleasure and ecstasy down your spine, all the way to your toes. your lungs exhale deeply, and suddenly-- your own orgasm comes crashing down onto you.
your entire body quakes in tandem with tim's. as his cum floods your pussy, the fluid barely leaking out of you-- your cunt twitches and smothers tim's extremity; squeezing, milking, begging for more of his release.
even following his orgasm-- tim doesn't stop. the lewd noises emanated from your pussy only grow in decibels as the night drags onwards, his cock emptying all it can supply into your womb repeatedly.
when your frame turns to jelly upon your bed, spineless in his grip-- tim just dips his head low, lips dusting along your jaw and towards your mouth. "told you," he whispers, pressing spontaneous kisses into your skin, "missed you so bad, baby," his cock twitches within your pussy-- his tip swollen an indecent shade of pink from tim's three prior orgasms inside of you-- "i'm almost offended you didn't believe me."
beneath him, your own irises roll; one of your hands carding through tim's black tresses, fingers scratching idly at his scalp despite still being impaled on his dick. your body shudders around him as you speak; "well, i do now,"
"yeah?" tim asks skeptically, hips raising ever so slightly, only to roll lazily back into you-- both of you sighing in euphoria as he fills you to the brim again. "only took me fucking three loads into you for you to listen,"
"shii-it," you whisper, feeling tim's tip grind against your g-spot.
the man smiles into your skin, "m'not finished," tim groans, "i think this pussy can take more."
you open your mouth to protest, but tim's thrusts beginning for the umpteenth time that night shut you up quickly.
"please," tim exhales, "you said you want me to prove i missed you, so that's what m'doing,"
the bed creaks underneath the weight of both of your bodies, combined with tim's steady movements.
"please just let me cum inside of you again, i need it so badly-- n' i know you need it too."
loren's thots:: highly anticipated tim drake breeding kink drabble whew. i saw dilf tim and it gave me the motivation to do this, but i could totally see this becoming a longer, proper piece based on dilf!tim drake like yum. this ones short but sweet, i think
vaporwave
stormborns
jimmyeatworldofficial
tangentwithtanner
origamiaround
