Monica |turning 20 in 3 days!| INFP| ♊️ |pansexual cutie|professional little princess|Multifandom personal blog| Obsessed with Overwatch, cartoons and anime. Lena Oxton is my waifu
reader uses she/her pronouns in this one because i just love to use daddy + princess. sorry not sorry.
oliver is so hot jesus fucking christ i wrote this one with only one hand
cw: sassy reader (?), OLIVER AIKU BEGGING!!!!! hints of size kink (he's 6'3 tall.), overuse of the word "princess" because i like it this much. oliver refers to himself as "daddy" and in the third person. penetrative & unprotected sex, missionary, oliver aiku himself
kinktober masterlist
you love pathetic man who think they're in charge – telling you to ask them nicely to give you their cock and acting like they wouldn't fold at your feet if you did so, like they don't shred to pieces when you beg for them in your way.
oliver aiku is just this type of guy.
with your butt sticking out for him, you rest your head on your crossed arms, knees scraping against the carpet and cunt drenched in arousal, so much it leaks down your inner thighs, hole twitching in anticipation. "oliver."
there's some type of urgency in your tone, the emptiness inside you growing more and more unbearable with every passing second, stomach twisting and aching as you just wish for him to put it in already.
"beg for it." he mumbles with a condescending tone, fingers caressing your asscheek and eyes trained on your soaked folds as he runs his leaky, fat tip along them, teasing you and threatening to shove it in but never doing so. you whine, unsatisfied, wiggling your ass in a silent plea for him to just fuck you already – clit swollen and throbbing at the edging. "c'mon baby, use your words."
you leave out a long, tired sigh as soon as his phrase hits your ears – here we go again, you think to yourself. releasing one of your arms, you sneak your hand back, towards your sopping core, small fingers spreading your puffy folds to expose your fluttering hole, oliver's hungry eyes bulging at the sight. "don't you wanna give it to me, daddy?"
you ask with a sickenly sweet voice, looking back at him over your shoulder to watch his reaction – his smirk faltering for a second, orbs turning darker and you can feel his cock twitching against your entrance, a guttural grunt rumbling inside oliver's chest. soon you feel his large hands grabbing your hips, pushing you onto your back and pinning you to the carpet, huge body slotting itself between your thighs and engulfing you completely as his cock rests on top of your tummy, tip leaking pre-cum all over your skin.
"fuck, princess... say that again." he demands, voice laced with a hint of urgency you can't help but find a little pathetic, deciding to take advantage of this unmissable opportunity. with arched brows and a wide smirk creeping up your lips, you stare at him with a questioning look, urging him to say the magic word – which he understands and immediately complies with a grin, playing along with your antics. "please, princess."
his hands sneak up your body, warm palms resting on your breasts before pushing them together, thumbs rolling and teasing your nipples simultaneously with his hips rutting against yours, rubbing his shaft on your clit addictively.
"mmh... say what, daddy?" you mewl at the stimulation, nails digging into his biceps, elbows supporting your weight as you slightly lift your body to get closer to aiku's, lips parting to let out a cry when he pushes only the tip past your awaiting hole, walls greedily closing around him. "daddy!"
your eyes are wide, staring at him like a doe caught in the headlights, silently pleading – "just put it in already". and who's he to deny such a beautiful face?
grabbing your waist, he lies you on the floor once more, dick entering you in one go and reaching your cervix, your whole body writhing in pleasure and back arching off the ground. a loud moan rips from your throat at the intrusion, a high-pitched "daddy!" leaving your mouth as soon as his teeth meet the skin of your collarbone, sharp canine marking you up and well-aimed thrusts easily finding your g-spot.
"that's it, you little minx, keep saying that." he grunts, voice muffled against your flesh. his fingers explores every part of your body they can reach, pinching and kneading you everywhere, slowly pushing you towards a mind-numbing pleasure, cunt clenching tight around him. "fuck, just like that, princess."
you can only moan at his actions, pushing your hips up towards his pelvis to get him deeper, brain melting away as you go drunk on his dick. he pounds into you mercilessly, hands wrapping around your waist to lift your lower half off the carpet and closer to him, skin glued to yours where your bodies connect.
"daddy, it's so good!" your arms cross over your face, hiding your eyes from his piercing gaze as you moan mindlessly, every thick vein on his cock rubbing against your sensitive walls making you insane, thoughts a mess. "daddy–!"
the pinch he gives your clit earns a squeal previously stuck in your throat, thumb massaging your nub in fast, tight circles, intending to send you over the edge and push your consciousness into oblivion. his face lowers closer to yours, tongue coming out to lick at your earlobe before whispering seductively against it, voice laced with condescension.
"yeah? daddy's cock is so good, right?" he nibbles on the skin of your jaw, a smirk so wide on his lips that you can actually hear it. you have no sense of self-respect when your head nods furiously, eyes wide and brows furrowed as you stare down at his cock slamming inside you in a relentless pace, mouth hanging open to let out desperate moans. the sight of his girth covered in your slick, walls greedily gripping it every time he slightly pulls out, it's all too much, your hole clamping down his shaft and clenching impossibly tighter, a hiss making its way past the man's lips. "shiiit, baby, y'gonna cum? go on then, make a mess for daddy."
Prompt: how they initiate sex with you for the first time.
Characters: Isagi Yoichi, Shidou Ryusei, Oliver Aiku, Bachira Meguru, and Kunigami Rensuke
Warnings: MDNI!!! breeding kink, rough sex, dirty talk, and casual sex
All characters have been aged up! 21+
🅸🆂🅰🅶🅸 🆈🅾🅸🅲🅷🅸
You and Isagi have been dating for a month.
Has contemplated bringing it up to you for 24 business days.
Thinks about you when you aren’t with him.
Definitely has masterbated to the thought you. Especially when you wear his jersey. He LOVES when you wear his jersey.
Decides to take you out on a date somewhere nice before your first time with him.
But once you get home….. his demeanor is completely different.
Kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you.
He’s a munch!!!! Be so forreal..
He wants you to sit on his face and he’s so happy to be in between those thighs.
“You taste so fucking good. I can’t get enough of you.”
Praises you as you ride his dick.
“You’ve been waiting for that dick huh?”
After care king!!
🆂🅷🅸🅳🅾🆄 🆁🆈🆄🆂🅴🅸
You and Shidou have been texting for 2 weeks and he’s finally in your city.
Brutally honest about his intentions so of course..Y’all fuck on sight.
“The only dinner I want is in between your legs and I’m fucking starving.”
He will rip your clothes off of you if you aren’t fast enough.
Eats you out from the back because he’s an ass man (let’s be real.)
Loves when you deep throat him.
“You’re such a slut for me. Taking my dick allll the way down your throat. What a good girl.”
Fucks you in a head lock. (i'm not elaborating)
“You want my load, pretty girl. Don't worry, I’ll fill you up to the fucking brim.”
Lasts for a lonnnggg asss timmmeee.
Groans in your ear when he’s drilling into you.
“Fuuccckk, I love this shit. Let me fuck you all the time, kay?”
Makes you squirt.
He does exactly as he says and fills you to the brim with his cum.
Does after care but he has a breeding kink so he’s very slow to clean up his mess.
“Wanna go again, pretty girl?”
🅾🅻🅸🆅🅴🆁 🅰🅸🅺🆄
“What’s a pretty girl like you sitting here by yourself? I’d be happy to give you some company.”
Such a sweet talker.
He can’t help but to stare at your breasts halfway into the conversation. You don’t give a fuck because you know he’s not shit. You’re not looking for a boyfriend, just a good fuck.
“You wanna get out of here? I can show you a better time in my hotel room.”
Next thing you know, your panties are pushed to the side as he devours you.
HE'S A REAL EATER…( I stand by this)
Makes you squirt on his face and then kisses you after.
Suggest you ride him because he’s got a waist fetish and wants to see those gorgeous tits bounce.
“What a good lil cowgirl you are.”
After a while, he puts you in doggy style to get a another angle of your waist as he fucks you into the mattress.
Cums all over your ass.
Will clean up his mess and thanks you for the great pussy.
Leaves the minute you fall asleep.
🅱🅰🅲🅷🅸🆁🅰 🅼🅴🅶🆄🆁🆄
You and Bachira have been mutuals on social media for a few months. He comments on your stories, answers every poll you post in close friends and often flirts with you.
His next game was in your city and he was so quick to invite you. You agreed of course.
After the game, texts you to come down to the tunnel so he could see you.
“You’re telling me I can’t take you back to Japan with me? Guess you’ll have to come over tonight so we can have a proper goodbye.”
It was a proper goodbye alright….
He greeted you at the door with a passionate kiss. It wasn’t long until his tongue was on your other set of lips.
He loves eating pussy too!! (Who would have thought :0
He teases you in many different ways but his favorite way is edging. (Standing ten toes down on this)
“I know you wanna cum but I love seeing you when you're all worked up like this.”
Fucks you on your side so he can get a good look at your face and ass.
Showers you in compliments and super vocal!
“Yea baby, just like that. You look so pretty when you take my cock.”
After care LEGEND. Cuddles with you after taking care of you. Rubs your back while talking about god knows what.
🅺🆄🅽🅸🅶🅰🅼🅸 🆁🅴🆂🆄🅺🅴
Kunigami sees you at the gym quite a bit. So often that you two started working out with each other.
“I’m trying to get like you. Your core strength is unmatched.”
Compliments after compliments! He’s a simp for you really.
He constantly spots you during every workout, touching you respectfully whenever he can.
Watching you work out is so difficult for him because all he can think about is how badly he wants to fuck you. He’s a gentleman so he controls himself but it’s getting harder.
“Do you want to go back to my place for dinner? As a thank you for all the core training.”
You both know what you’re coming over for and it’s not fucking dinner….
Once you get to his place, you complain about your back hurting.
He offers to massage it out for you (he thinks he’s slick….)
You pull your hair up, revealing the nape of your neck (His favorite spot) before he starts the massage.
Before you know it, you’re sitting on his kitchen counter getting your pussy ate.
He’s gentle when he eats pussy, savoring every moment of it.
Holds your legs open as you cum so he can continue as you orgasm.
Fucks you while holding you just because he can.
Isn’t very vocal but I have a feeling he grunts and WHIMPERS (Kunigami, the man you are)
Puts you in a mating press.
“Uhh, fuck. You’re gonna make me cum, pretty girl.”
Lowkey a gooner… he definitely makes the hottest faces during sex and when he’s cumming.
After care is his middle name!! Continues giving you the massage after he helps you shower. Goes into great detail about how long he’s wanted to do this as you fall asleep on him.
Wakes you up with head and cooks you breakfast. (I’m trying to be normal about him…)
These head cannons are a mix of true head cannons and my opinion!
Hiii Bluelock babes✨ I’m new to writing for this fandom so I thought I post some Drabble/personal head cannons! You can definitely tell who my favorites are Oop! Lol!
If you like the Bachira and Oliver head cannons you should read my mini series “Let the Games Begin".
➳❥ kaiser loves the sound of his own voice, and he loves hearing you say his name even more
➳❥ he takes every moan and whimper as a personal victory
➳❥ expect both sweet praise and degradation in the same breath
Kaiser has you laid out beneath him, your wrists pinned above your head with one hand while the other drags down your body. His mouth brushes against your ear as he pushes into you slowly, making sure you feel every inch.
"You love this, don’t you? Being mine. Fuck, you take me so well—such a good girl for me."
You moan, and he smirks, pulling back just enough to make you chase his lips. "Tch, so needy. Go on, tell me how much you love it—say it, baby, or I stop right here."
His fingers tilt your chin up, making sure you meet his gaze, his deep blue eyes holding a dangerous glint as his lips curl into a smirk.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, dragging his thumb across your lips before slipping it into your mouth. “So fucking perfect for me. My beautiful little thing.”
You moan around his thumb, and he chuckles, his other hand trailing down your stomach, teasing where you need him most.
“Tell me how good I make you feel, pretty. Beg me to ruin you.”
Barou: acts of service
➳❥ barou isn’t one to spoil you easily – you have to earn it
➳❥ he gets off on discipline and making you work for your pleasure
➳❥ when you do earn it? he doesn’t hold back when giving you what you want
Barou has you on your hands and knees, one of his big hands gripping your waist, the other fisting your hair to keep you exactly where he wants you.
"You wanted this, didn’t you? Begging for it all night—now look at you, struggling to keep up."
Your body trembles, pushed to its limits, but he’s not done yet. He leans down, voice dark with amusement, his breath hot against your ear.
"If you wanna come, beg for it. Tell me why you deserve it."
You’re completely spent, legs shaking, body flushed, but Barou isn’t satisfied yet. He flips you over, kneeling between your thighs. Grabbing your ankle, he presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your calf, his tone low, dangerous.
"Tired already?" His sharp eyes lock onto yours, challenging. "I’m not stopping until I know you’re completely satisfied."
Before you can protest, he drags you back to him, spreading you open with ease. His mouth is on you again—sucking, licking, claiming—and when you try to squirm away, his grip tightens.
"Stay still," he growls, pinning you down. "You’re not done until I say so."
Shidou: physical touch
➳❥ shidou is a menace in bed, just completely obsessed with making you feel him everywhere for days
➳❥ his hands have to constantly be on you, gripping and manhandling you
➳❥ his favorite thing is fucking you against a mirror, watching the way you fall apart
Shidou has you pinned against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he ruts into you like a beast. His mouth is hot against your skin, leaving bruises and bite marks in his wake.
"Fuck yeah, that’s it—scream for me, baby. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good."
You whimper as he presses you harder against the mirror, making sure you can see the mess he’s making of you.
"Shit, you look so pretty like this—should keep you like this forever, huh?" He grins, biting your shoulder before slamming into you harder.
Shidou thrives on touch—his hands constantly grabbing, pinching, kneading, making sure you’re always feeling him. He loves your reactions, the way your body responds to him. His fingers dig into your thighs, a wicked grin playing on his lips.
“Gonna let me have you? Or do I have to make you beg first?”
Sae: quality time
➳❥ sae isn’t in a rush, he enjoys taking his time with you, pulling pleasure out of you in an annoyingly slow pace
➳❥ control is everything to him, commanding you to hold still and refusing to let you rush him
➳❥ he loves making you wait, begging him to go faster
Sae has you spread out on the bed, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles over your thighs as you squirm beneath him.
"Tch. So impatient." He pushes into you slowly, making you whimper at the stretch, his deep teal eyes locked onto yours.
"I want you to feel everything," he murmurs, rolling his hips in a way that has your breath catching.
Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, and he leans down, lips brushing against your jaw. "Relax, love. We’re just getting started."
His fingers tilt your face up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dark, piercing, his grip firm but not rough.
“Focus on me,” he says, his voice smooth, demanding. “I don’t want your mind anywhere else.”
He takes his time—dragging his fingers over every inch of your skin, watching the way you react, the way your breath hitches when he finally touches you where you need him most.
“There we go,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s the reaction I wanted.”
Oliver: receiving gifts
➳❥ oliver loves spoiling you, but expects you to work for it
➳❥ he buys you lingerie, jewlery, silk sheets–just to ruin you against them
➳❥ loves worshipping you while you’re covered in all of the things he bought for you
Oliver sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with a lazy smirk. He pats his thigh, motioning for you to sit on his lap.
"Come here, baby. Show me how much you want that new necklace."
The second you straddle him, his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kisses up your neck.
"Mm, that’s my girl. Keep moving—maybe I’ll let you have it."
Oliver smirks as he drapes the cool metal of a diamond necklace around your throat, his fingers brushing against your skin as he fastens the clasp. His lips ghost over your shoulder, trailing down until his teeth nip at your pulse.
“Something pretty for my pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice dripping with satisfaction. “But let’s be real, baby—the best gift I could give you is me.”
Before you can even process his words, he’s already spinning you around, pinning you against the nearest surface. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips with purpose, pressing himself against you so you feel just how hard he is.
“Mmm, already shivering?” His chuckle is dark, teasing, as his fingers slip under the hem of your clothes, dragging them down inch by inch. “I haven’t even started yet.”
You whimper as he spreads your thighs, one hand keeping you exactly where he wants you while the other trails between your legs, fingers teasing, barely grazing where you need him most.
"C’mon, baby, tell me—" he whispers, lips brushing against your ear. "What’s the real gift here? This little necklace… or me fucking you until you can’t even think straight?"
Before you can answer, two fingers slide into you without warning, curling just right, making your back arch as a broken moan spills from your lips.
Oliver grins, pleased, proud, as he watches you unravel beneath him.
“That’s what I thought,” he purrs. “Now, let’s see how many times I can make you say my name tonight.”
your post abt bllk and face sitting got me drooling mannnnnnn 😩🙏 what abt which bllk guys would wake reader up with dick for breakfast lmfaoooo imagine getting slapped awake with their peanits
part one <33
❤︎₊ ⊹ oh… kaiser would so do this—especially if you managed to tick him off by leaving him high and dry the night before. he’s real mean when he does so, and sure as hell doesn’t feel bad (but gives good aftercare since you’re his loverrr).
“guten morgen, herzchen,” he would say it in the most condescending tone ever, tapping his already rock-hard cock on your cheek and swiping your lip with his leaking mushroom tip, spreading his pre like it’s fucking lip gloss or some shit. he’d be lowkey controlling with it, giving you directions on how to suck his cock (despite having done so several times) and even tightening his grip on your hair every time you gag from how deep you’re taking him.
“c’mon, baby. flatten that tongue more.”
“fuck, such a little cockslut this early in the morning…”
“yeahhh, suck a little faster. what a fuckin’ tease you are.”
❤︎₊ ⊹ aiku would also do this but be a bit more teasing and less aggressive with it. “good morning, princess. rise and shine!” with the most mischievous smile ever. god, he’s fucking loud and not ashamed of how loud he is even though he’s the one who started it. what a hypocrite.
to be honest, he’s the type of person to let you take control when it comes to oral, so when you’re deep throating him, giving him little kitten licks with your tongue all flat, and swirling the tip on your tongue, he’s relentless… not to mention he says the most diabolical shit just to make himself feel better from the fact he’s falling apart from just your mouth.
“oh honey, look at you…so pretty taking cock this early.”
“sweetheart, what cute little tricks you have huh?”
“now, baby, don’t want you choking on dick now do we?”
❤︎₊ ⊹ shidou so would (im being so deadass). are we really surprised now? he’d do it even if he wasn’t mad at you but just for shits and giggles. he’d literally say “wakey wakey,” and then make you choke on his cock by maneuvering your damn head by gripping your hair
he’s a damn freak and wouldn’t mind being woken up in a similar fashion—in fact, he’d beg for you to the same to him the next morning. he’s so obsessed with you giving him oral, he literally wouldn’t need any excuse to do that to you, he’d just do it.
“baby you’re so hot taking my dick right now.”
“fuckkkk..that’s it, babe. so fucking pretty.”
“yeahhhhh… take it all, jus’ like that.”
honorable mentions: karasu, otoya, bunny, chris prince + leonardo luna (this is so random but just hear me out okay??)
YESS (gimmie all your bllk thirsts this is so fun).
— a bllk fanfic // where you confess in an interview about your type.
synopsis: who would have thought that the answer to a stupid, interview question would have put you in such a position with your (secret) boyfriend.
pairing: actress! reader x aged up! bllk men [isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, sae itoshi, oliver aiku]
cw: NOT PROOFREAD. SECRET RELATIONSHIP. jealousy. possessiveness. SM*T SM*T SM*T. MDNI. nsfw themes include: rough. edg*ng. multiple org*sms. filming. toys. that's all i think.
old m.list. | new m.list.
you never cared to answer the stupid questions in interviews. questions about your eating habits, your current celebrity crush, your type in men — all that stuff. most actresses avoided it, and you happened to be no different. there was only so much truth in those wretched interviews in front of those flashy ring lights and perfectly edited cuts.
however, this time, you did answer that question. the low-hanging, easy question of, "what do you want for in a man? what's your type?" you and your (secret) boyfriend had been in a fight, and the thought of taunting him indirectly through an interview had been funny at the time to you. but... now... it may, or may not have ended up putting you in a... questionable state with your soccer-player, secret boyfriend.
‧₊˚🖇️✩
★ player 01: isagi yoichi!
isagi hunched over in his locker room. the place was empty, save for the flickering of the fluorescent lights above. his eyes zeroed in on the video bachira had sent to him. bachira had captioned it, "go be a man, dude."
your pretty face scrunched up as you laughed at something the interviewer had said prior. the interviewer's eyes narrowed, a sleek question on her lips, "tell me, because i think everyone wants to know. what's your type?"
you giggled, "god, that's a loaded question. hm. i don't know, really?" you fixed your hair, running your fingers through the silken strands, "maybe when men act like men?" you gave a quick glance to the camera and isagi grit his jaw at the action. you went back to looking at the interviewer, acting all sweet and charming. "i mean i'm talking surprise dates, gifts, taking charge. things most guys don't usually do."
isagi faintly remembered the conversation you both had had two nights ago. you told him something about him being too soft, too compliant. that you wanted him to be a bit more aggressive, that you had claimed you weren't a "porcelain doll."
the interviewer's voice echoed, "oh? taking charge?" she grinned, "does that extend to the bedroom?"
you shrugged, "i don't see why not."
isagi shut it off. tilting his head, he realized, he just had to be that man for you.
"mmph—!" your eyes widened, legs stumbling back as isagi crashed his lips into yours the second he entered your apartment. pressing his body weight to yours, he pushed your backwards till you were walking back into your bedroom.
you back hit the sprightly mattress. you looked up at him. there was a feral look in his eyes. your chest rose and fell rapidly, lips red and swollen as you whispered, "'ichi... what's with you?"
"nothing." he pulled the hem of his shirt upwards and tugged it off. his bare abs glistened in the pale, dim light. he gave you a grin, "just being the man that you want me to be."
"wh-what?"
"strip."
now, an hour and twenty minutes in you regretted ever answering that question. your hips ached, your thighs ached, your stomach churned itself inwards and isagi yoichi refused to quit.
his sweaty chest stuck to your back, his arms looped around your waist as he pushed his throbbing erection into your cunt so goddamn slow. he sweetly whispered from behind, "go on. cum."
"i-ichi." your heavy lids fell close, breath ragged as he pushed himself in within your plush, velvety hole, "p-please. please i- i can't like... like this."
"can't what?"
"i can't... cum like this." you winced at how pathetic you sounded, how after an hour of him fucking your sopping cunt, you were still at a net total of zero orgasms. you had never been so desperate, never been so edge of unraveling this badly. but god, he had been edging you for eternity. he picked up his pace, hitting that gooey spot inside of you into a puddle of desire that seeped out of you and dripped down to his muscled thighs. and then... as soon as you teetered on the edge of an orgasm, he stopped. you bit down your bottom lip, "please. i-hnghh can't..."
"awh?" he cooed, his ever-slow pace never faltering, "why not?"
"i-it's just... so slow." you felt his smug grin behind you, "is it? i can just fasten it up, then."
he thrust into you all at once, impaling you on his dick. his tip nudged against your g-spot again and you sobbed, "yoichi- fuck... i'm s-sorry. please just let me— god!"
he slapped your cunt, a sharp sound that reverberated through your bedroom. your entire body jolted, your lips agape as you moaned, "fu-fuck, yes. please..."
"like that?" he grinned, licking a stripe down your flushed neck. you keened into his fast thrusts, squirming and crying, finally at the edge of release again. "yes, yes- yes. fuck. ichi. i-i'm never gonna say that again— hck!"
"ah?" he slowed down. again. "say what?"
tears stung your eyes, your throat burned. you were yet again pulled away from the feeling of ecstasy. weakly, you cried, "n-no... please."
"what's wrong?" isagi pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, "i'm doin' what you asked, baby. taking charge."
your lips wobbled, "p-please."
"look at you now..." he tsked, "i thought you weren't gonna fucking break, doll."
‧₊˚🖇️✩
★ player 02: rin itoshi!
rin replayed the clip again. it was exactly 17 seconds and he had played it enough times to practically memorize your words, and yet, he played it again. you hummed, holding the mic to your plush lips, "what's my type? god... i hate nonchalance, you know?"
the audience cheered and you nodded in response, excitedly admitting, "right? like stop acting like that!"
rin's breath sharpened as you continued, "but yeah, okay, i'd say my type is someone who doesn't act like they don't care. puts me before themselves." you laughed, "is that too selfish to say?"
the interviewer assured you, "not at all! it's just a fact to want someone who loves you and prioritizes you!"
"right." rin hummed to himself, shutting off the phone to catch a reflection of himself in the black glass. "her before me."
the next you knew was that he was locking the bedroom door and asking you to lay comfortably on your bed.
you furrowed your brows, but complied, "what?"
he raked his eyes over your face, dryly responding, "i saw an interview of yours."
"huh?" you tilted your head to the side, "the new press conference for the movie—?"
"about your type in men."
your face dropped, "oh, rin. that- that was a joke. i didn't mean what—!"
"no." he hummed, drawing closer. "it's true. i should put you before myself."
and so, being a man of his words, rin itoshi did just that.
your wrists squirmed against the fabric of his tie. your hips bucked up and down, your entire body trying to pull itself back. fluttering your teary eyes closed, you choked, "p-please... no more."
"hm?" he lazily snapped his digits in and out of you, "no more?"
you nodded, grieved, "please... rin—" your voice broke as the man increased his tempo. your back arched off, walls clawing down his fingers as another orgasm threatened to rush past your body. stammering and stuttering, you cried, "i- 's sen-sensitive... please rin."
but the man didn't care. he was too busy ushering you towards your fifth orgasm of the night. he hummed to himself, "tch. but isn't this what you wanted? you before me?"
your walls clamped, "i— please."
"—and while I'm doing that..." rin brought another hand to your cunt, pinching your clit. you yelped, and he rubbed circles with his fingers as if that'll help soothe the pain. "while I'm being such a gentleman, not having even cum once..." his eyes sharpen, "you're still taking it for granted."
you shook your head feverishly, feeling his fingerpads swiping against your slicked, throbbing clit. gulping, "-m... 'm not."
he pressed down on your clit, tutting, "you are. stop lying."
"gah—!" you raised your hips upward, shaking your head and whispering, "rin... rin— fuck. please." your hips stuttered, pulling away from his hands, "s-stop!"
surprisingly, he stopped. his eyes sharpened, tense muscles relaxing as he dropped his hands. you blinked at him, "r-rin...?"
"I believe this was enough of me putting you before me." his erection throbbed inside his sweatshirt, a wet patch of his pre on the fabric taunting you. "now, my turn."
‧₊˚🖇️✩
★ player 03: sae itoshi!
sae looked at the link sendou had forwarded him. his first instinct was to ignore sendou, his second instinct however, drove him to curiosity and made him open the link.
you laughed at the stupid question that the stupid interviewer had asked you. you threw your hair behind your shoulders and that laugh turned into a faux grimace, "oh, my type? god, do you want me to be honest?"
the audience cheered and you laughed, "yeah, okay. i like them possessive. i know, controversial! but it's kinda cool when a guy cares enough for it to physically show."
"hm?" sae hummed to himself as the video ended. was his love for you not apparent enough? so troublesome. he could recall a recurring fight you two always had, one where you claimed that he "didn't care about you enough." that even if he saw you cozy with your co-stars, he wouldn't be least bothered by that shit. well, if you wanted possessive, he would give you exactly that.
hours later, your ass was lifted into the air as sae thrusted inside you. your tear-struck face was pushed deeper into the mattress as sae pressed his palm to your head. the tripod was set up, his camera in the perfect position to capture your entire ruination.
you cried into the sheets, muffled, "s-slower... pl-please hck-!"
"mhm?" the man snapped his pelvis to yours, unstopping. your skin stung red by his actions, drool tainting the sheets under you. your pussy squelched with each quick thrust inside of you. lips wobbling, you cried again, "s-sae..."
bored as always, the man answered your plea with a sharp jolt to your ass. your cheek stung yet again, the reddened skin throbbing with the hot sensation of his palm. he pressed his fingers against the imprint, soothing it, "what's wrong? can't speak now?"
"s-stop." you felt your thighs shaking, body falling forward slack as he kept up his pace. you mustered up enough energy to groan, "please."
"huh?" you felt your body being holstered up. your limbs went slack as sae wrapped a hand around your waist and another around your nape. your ruined face - mascara dripping, lipstick smudged, neck bruised with hickies, and tears falling down your cheeks - faced the camera directly.
from behind you, sae itoshi tutted, "see that?"
you nodded, slow and dumb. he hummed, "let that be proof enough of just. how. possessive. i can be." each word was punctuated with a sharp thrust. your jaw fell open, eyes rolling back as this elevated angle hit your gooey spot so much more intimately. your entire body melted in his hold, your mind going blank. sae forced your cheeks into a pout, his voice stern, "look at the camera."
having no idea what was up or down, what even was a camera, you let his move your face. your hazy, teary vision zeroed on the device. he grunted, "having fun?"
you nodded, "y-yes."
"think you're gonna- hah- say that shit in interviews again?"
you shook your head, "n-no."
"yeah, everytime you even think of spewing nonsense like that." he slowed his pace, burying himself to the hilt and stalling. you moaned at the feeling of dick throbbing inside, beading out drops of pre that sloshed inside of you. sae threatened, "if you even think of that shit... remember this. you like this."
you swallowed, "y-yes."
"or if you'd want, i can always send you this video to y'know... jog up your memory."
‧₊˚🖇️✩
★ player 04: oliver aiku!
oliver grinned to himself as he saw your name trending on twitter right next to his. oh, what had his pretty 'lil girlfriend gotten herself into now?
he played the video.
"i hate playboys." you said out flat, not even taking a minute to think about the question put in front of you. "god, those cocky bastards? who think with their dick and think that just cause they're hot, they can have it all? bouncing from one girl to the other? yeah, no."
the interviewer grinned, "oh, that seems extremely specific."
you laughed, "it's not! but if i had to give an example..." you hummed, shifting your gaze to the camera, "oliver aiku, maybe?"
oliver laughed again. seriously? were you going public with the fight the two of you had had a night ago? you had asked him about his past and he had been brutally honest — admitting about his infamous one night stands. the admission had, however, soured your mood enough for you to go to sleep with a frown. oliver didn't think it was that serious, but here you were — ruining his name.
"oh, soccer player oliver aiku? the captain?" the woman sitting opposite to you sounded excited as you nodded, "the very same. he gives me messy fuckboy vibes. i didn't dig it. at all."
oh? you didn't dig him at all? such a lie!
your hands clawed against the sheet, head thrown back as aiku pushed the vibrator deeper into your cunt. he grinned, "didn't think we were hard launching ourselves on the internet right now."
"w-we aren't!" your hips stuttered, body moving forward and back to rock yourself on the device. aiku held the toy steady, letting you fuck yourself on it. he mused, "tch. our names are trending on twitter together. the internet hah— sleuths think you're one of my one night stands. our managers are gonna be..." holding your hips with one broad hand, he drilled the toy into your core. "pissed."
"i-i know..." you swallowed in vain, your words broken and jittery. aiku rolled his eyes, all sugary sweet even as he ruined you. "why even do it, baby?"
"i was- i was pissed at you."
"cause i'm hot and i think with my dick?" bringing another suction vibrator, he nudged your clit. the sudden suction on the nub shook your body, and he laughed at your reaction, "yeah, i mean... i do think with my dick sometimes. right now being one of those moments."
"aiku." you threatened, "c-cut it out."
"awh? c-cut it out?" he cooed, throwing his lips into a pout. "is it too much? what was that about me being messy—?"
"fuck-!" your hips bucked upwards, right into the steady suction and vibration of the device. aiku grinned as your pussy spasmed and dribbled out wafty whisps of honeyed slick around the long vibrator. the liquid splattered down to his palm, onto his wrist. he cooed again, "see? you're the messy one." he pushed the toy and watched as your cunt swallowed it whole. "so messy."
"ai-aiku..." your body arched upwards, head throw back as he kept manouvering the toy in and out of your nested heat. your toes curled, throat burned and face heat up with the rush of blood and adrenaline. meanwhile, all aiku did was grin and make a show of it — really draaaag your orgasm out and humiliate you through it. he probably wanted you take it back. no. most certainly.
"you hurt me, y'know..." he says quietly, and you almost would have believed his little act — being all mushed brain and stupid — had it not been for the shit eating grin plastered across his lips. you scoff, "sh-shut up."
"no, no." he tutted, twisting the vibrator inside you and tightening the suctioning one right on your sensitive clit. "all that talk about how you don't dig me?"
his eyes drifted off to the phone perched on the tripod, "i think i gotta show you some evidence for how much you do dig me," he lodged the vibrator in deeper, his lips pulled into a grin, "baby."
a.n.: i am outta writing juice :(
old m.list. | new m.list.
itoshi sae: amor (love), mi vida (my life), mis amores (my darling)
sae isn’t much of a talker. but when he does open that mouth of it, words of trust and love flow out from his lips (at least that’s the case for you.)
itoshi rin: y/n, stupid, dumbass
while all of these sound derogatory and basic, it’s just how rin expresses his love for you. it’s not that he doesn’t like to call you pet names (he calls you "love" once in awhile), he just doesn’t get why you have to call your lover by other terms?!@# he just wants to keep it simple. (plus he loves your name so much ueueueue)
shidou ryusei: darlin’, sweets, doll
yup the typical fuckboy pet names. i don’t even have an explanation as to why but he loves calling you these (especially sweets).
mikka LOVESSSSSSSSS calling you these on a daily basis to the point some of his teammates (noa and even isagi 😭) even call you these instead of your name (he gets extremely jealous and pouty).
bachira meguru: baby, bee, sweetheart
ah yes, the typical corny ass pet names. some people might yuck it but in bachira’s words, ‘don’t yum my yuck’ (you told him it was yuck my yum). no one can stop him, he’s just too in love with you (plus he calls you these to spite kaiser).
isagi yoichi: princess, babe, sunshine
here comes the king of cringe yoichi. now, he doesn’t see anything wrong with these; it’s just the people around him are making a big fuss about these. they’re really cute! and his partner’s really cute too!
mikage reo: love, darling, sweetheart
he likes calling you simple, yet classy endearments. his favourite one to call you tho is definitely ‘love’. simple endearments for a lovely guy indeed.
nagi seishiro: babe, y/n, darl’
now, seishiro doesn’t really like talking which is why these are really simple (but they’re so cute with the way he drags them out like “baaaaaaaabe” or “y/nnnnnnn”). but when he’s in a silly goofy mood (especially when he finishes a game), he’ll call you darl’ or just darling with a stupid smirk on his face.
chigiri hyoma: love, stupid, y/n
i just imagine hyoma to be a silly lover. someone who you can playfully banter with and someone you can love without limits. he’s just a simple guy. (he WILL beg you to buy him his hair care materials, comb his hair and style his hair).
baro shoei: princess, darling, bunny
he says these to rile you up and make you all blushy and giggly. that’s it. that’s the explanation mhm mhm.
kunigami rensuke: princess, love, my dear
he’s a BIIIIIIIIIIIG softie in my eyes. he’s so soft-spoken and HSAASFDIS i can hear him say these im not even kidding (i’m delusional)
OKAY YAYYY ANOTHER BANGER POSTED!! (will post more btw HUHDUHIEJROA) i hope this was enjoyable for everyone!! thanks for being here and hope to see you again! comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated <3 (what the hell thats a lot of tags 😭😭)
Boyfriend!Rin who never thought it would be possible for someone like him to get a partner. He was too focused on soccer for that. Even if he liked someone, they would never put up with him for long enough to date him, right?
Boyfriend!Rin who has no idea what he’s doing, but he loves you, and he will try as hard as possible to keep you.
Boyfriend!Rin who would never admit that he was jealous, but… obviously he was. He gets all sulky and passive-aggressive, but refuses to talk about the cause. It’s almost funny. Almost.
Boyfriend!Rin who somehow manages to find a stray cat every time you two go on a date? He never lets you take one home, though…
Boyfriend!Rin who cannot stand any of his teammates interacting with you, but Isagi and Bachira piss him off the most. They talk too much. Who knows what they’ll repeat back to you? (because God forbid you find out how much he threatens them…)
Boyfriend!Rin who can be surprisingly clingy. He’ll follow you around like a dog, and he absolutely needs to have a hand on you when you’re in public together.
Boyfriend!Rin who loves casual date nights. He’d much rather watch a movie at home or cook together than go out to some fancy, overpriced dinner.
Boyfriend!Rin who gets mocked by his teammates anytime he’s slightly romantic. They can’t help it, though! He’s such a big, scary guy that they just can’t imagine him being soft! (He now refuses to hug you after games)
Boyfriend!Rin who acts like he hates it when you text him during practice, but he always cracks a tiny smile. Isagi always notices, but he quickly learned to never bring it up.
Boyfriend!Rin who is the biggest sweetheart ever (well, to you, at least), it just takes a while to get to that point.
Could I ask for a nsfw alphabet for Rin Itoshi please~ AND tkm ^^)/
"She's my collar." | NSFW Alphabet
Rin Itoshi (Blue Lock) x Reader | NSFW Alphabet Headcanons
Content Warning(s) : NSFW, Might Be OOC, Not Beta Read
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
He’s surprisingly gentle after sex. Tender kisses and soft hands caress your body as he runs you a bath. Rin always checks you for bruises, marks, or sore spots, wanting to make sure to take proper care of you.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Rin loves his hands, slim yet strong fingers that he loves to use on you, whether that by by curling his fingers inside of you, bringing you to orgasm, or by gripping your hips, pulling you closer to him as he fucks into you.
He loves your waist. He loves wrapping his arms around your waist, bringing you in as he kisses you. He loves how ticklish you are there, reveling in the cute laughs you let out every time he drags his nails along your side.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
He’s not the type to cum inside of you, not before talking about it with you first. He prefers to cum on your frontside, covering your stomach or tits with his seed.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He’s a cuck-in-concept. Like sometimes he fantasizes about fucking you in front of certain people, just to show you off. But he would never truly do it, jealousy taking over at the thought of them seeing you like that.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Inexperienced save for porn. Ever since he was young, he’s put his all into soccer. He’s never been with anyone other than you, so he’s a little clueless. But he’s a fast learner, and if you tell him what feels good and what doesn’t, he’ll stash the information away for later, using it to make you fall apart the next time.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
It’s basic, but he loves missionary. He loves holding onto your waist as he fucks you, and what’s even better is that he can watch your tits bounce with each thrust. In all honesty he’s fine with any position, so long as you’re comfortable with it.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He’s serious the first few times, he was raised with the idea that sex was an intimate thing, something sacred. More often than not he’s too focused on making sure you’re feeling good to crack a joke. However the more you do it, the more he realizes that sex doesn’t have to be perfect.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Shaved almost completely, he doesn’t like the feeling of pubes rubbing against him in his underwear, and finds it cleaner this way.
The carpet is slightly darker than the drapes.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
The biggest sweetheart you will ever meet, every thrust is followed by an ‘I love you’, peppering your face with kisses whenever he can. He wants to make sure you feel loved, not afraid to show his affection to prove it.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Rarely does, but when he does it’s always after seeing you, getting off to the thought of the idea of you belonging to him and him alone.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Voyeurism - Rin has a secret fetish for watching you masturbate. He doesn’t know how to admit it, but he loves the idea of coming home and walking in on you pleasuring yourself.
Intercrual Sex - He loves to fuck your thighs. It’s not that he doesn’t lie fucking you, but the sight of you, covered in his cum is almost hypnotic, especially when you play with it, rubbing it into your skin.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
He prefers somewhere private and comfortable, somewhere with a soft place for you to lay where no one else can see you.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Rin loves your confidence, he loves when you dress up for him. Nothing turns him on more than seeing you in lingerie.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Anything that would involve harming you. He cares too much about you to hurt you intentionally. He also doesn’t want to do anything that would be too dirty, so long involving other bodily fluids (other than cum).
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He loves to eat you out. Rin could spend hours between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as you squirm in pleasure. He’s a clean eater, making out with your pussy as if it was his job. He doesn’t mind receiving either, sitting back and watching as you try to take his cock as deep as you can.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
It depends on his mood, although more often than not he prefers to be gentle with you. Even when he’s frustrated from a game, he’s still so tender with each thrust, fucking you with all the love in the world, albeit a little rougher.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Doesn’t mind it if you start it, but it always leaves him more pent-up then before. Ready to take you home and fuck you properly.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
He’s rather vanilla, so unless you bring up wanting to try something new, he won’t start. That doesn’t mean he’s against it, he just wants to make sure you actually want it and that you would feel good.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
A lot of stamina naturally, although he spends a good amount of it during training. If he’s just come back from a match, he’ll only go a few rounds, but if there’s a day where he’s free, he could genuinely go the whole day.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He doesn’t use toys himself but he loves buying them for you, imagining you pleasuring yourself with them while he’s away.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Doesn’t tease you too much, although he can’t help how cute you get when he does. Usually, it’s you doing the teasing with him.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He’s not naturally loud, more of a growl and groaner than anything. His teeth clench when he feels good, muffling his noises. He loves to moan in your ears, feeling the way you clench around him when he praises you for how good you make him feel.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
When he’s away on business trips, he calls you every night, mainly to check on you. Although at least half of the time, it ends in the two of you jerking off to each other, promising to fuck properly to make up for the lost time.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Longer than average and thin. Not super veiny but does have a few prominent veins. His tip curves upward slightly, almost as if built to pleasure you. His cock is almost beautiful, like a model's.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
He’s easy to rile up, but he’s also good at keeping himself under control. His sex drive is more average, needing to balance his energy between training and you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Pretty fast, as long as he knows that you’re unharmed and the two of you are clean, he’ll crawl alongside you in bed, holding you in his arms as he kisses you tenderly, whispering gentle praises of how perfect you were.
A/N : Thank you for the request ! Sorry if it's OOC, I haven't written for Blue Lock in a while . .
he didn’t cheat. somehow, that almost made it worse.
isagi hurt you by choosing everything else over you, over and over again. by promising he’d be there after practice and then texting at midnight with a “sorry, i lost track of time.” by nodding while you talked about your fears, your bad days, your need for reassurance, and then immediately opening game footage on his laptop. he loved you, genuinely, but he loved the idea of becoming something more. and every time you asked where you fit into that dream, he’d say something that meant, “just wait a little longer.”
the breakup wasn’t explosive. it was quiet. a soft, tired conversation at your kitchen table where your voice shook more than his did. you told him you felt invisible. he said he didn’t mean to make you feel that way. you told him intention didn’t erase impact. that was the last thing you said before blocking him everywhere.
two years later, you bump into him near a convenience store, rain threatening the sky. he freezes like he’s seen a ghost. you try to walk past him. then he says your name, like it’s been sitting on his tongue for years.
he apologizes immediately. no excuses. no explanations. just a raw confession spilling out of him: that he tried to be okay. that he built routines so strict they felt like cages. morning runs. evening drills. dinners with teammates he laughed with, but never really felt present for. that every night, when he closed his eyes, it was you he saw. you, turning away from him. you, disappointed.
you forgive him. quietly. kindly. and then you tell him you won’t get back together.
that’s when he unravels.
he starts showing up – not intrusively, never crossing your boundaries – but consistently. handwritten letters he never asks you to respond to. tickets to games left with a note that says “no pressure.” he learns how to cook your favorite meals and drops them off for you to share with friends, not even assuming he’ll be included. he stops saying “i need you back” and starts saying “i want to be someone you’d never have to beg again.”
there’s no decision at the end. just you, alone in your apartment one night, staring at a letter where he wrote: i finally learned how to wait. even if it’s forever.
and you hate how much that makes your chest ache.
itoshi rin
rin hurt you with his words.
sharp, careless, thrown like weapons when he was overwhelmed. he never meant to be cruel, but he was brutal in the way only someone emotionally constipated could be. when you needed reassurance, he scoffed. when you cried, he went silent. the worst part wasn’t the fights – it was how alone you felt standing right in front of him.
the breakup was ugly. raised voices. tears you refused to let him see. you told him loving him felt like screaming into a void. he told you he didn’t know how to give you what you wanted. you blocked him that same night.
two years later, you see him at a crosswalk. taller. quieter. eyes more tired.
he doesn’t hesitate. doesn’t pretend he’s fine. he runs after you, then bows his head slightly and apologizes like it’s something he’s practiced in his mirror a thousand times. he admits he tried to forget you by drowning himself in training. by isolating. by convincing himself he was better alone. none of it worked. every dream led back to you leaving. every silence sounded like your absence.
you forgive him. because holding onto anger feels heavier than letting go. but you tell him no. not again.
rin doesn’t argue. he proves.
he goes to therapy, actually goes. he learns how to name his emotions, even when they embarrass him. he texts you a few times a week at first, never expecting replies, just updates about growth. he defends you even when you’re not there. he stops using anger as a shield. he starts writing things down because he’s afraid he’ll say them wrong out loud.
eventually, you find yourself rereading one of his messages weeks later: i’m not asking you to come back. i’m asking you to see me.
and you don’t know when you started hoping.
itoshi sae
sae didn’t hurt you loudly. he hurt you by withdrawing.
it started small. delayed replies that felt calculated instead of accidental. phone calls that turned into schedules instead of conversations. affection that used to come naturally now felt rationed, like he was afraid to give too much of himself away. you’d talk about your day, your worries, the little things that mattered to you, and he’d listen, really listen, but there was always something distant in his eyes, like part of him was already somewhere else.
madrid wasn’t the problem. the way he let madrid replace you was.
when you asked him where this left the two of you, he said distance was temporary. that ambition demanded sacrifice. that you understood him better than anyone else, so surely you’d understand this, too. but what he never realized was how lonely it felt to love someone who kept choosing the future over the present, over you.
the breakup was quiet. devastatingly so. no yelling. no tears from him. just you two over the phone, the air too still, your heart pounding like it was begging him to stop you. you told him you didn’t feel chosen. he told you he didn’t know how to be anything else right now. you blocked him before he could watch you fall apart.
two years later, you meet in an airport lounge of all places. the universe has a cruel sense of humor.
he recognizes you instantly. his body goes still, like the world has narrowed down to just you. he apologizes before you can even speak. no pride. no defensiveness. he admits that success felt… empty. that trophies and medals didn’t quiet the nights. that he tried to fill the space you left with work, discipline, routine, but every time he sat alone on a plane, every time he closed his eyes on the couch or bed, it was you he thought of. the version of you that looked at him like he was worth waiting for.
“every airport feels the same now,” he confesses. “i keep expecting to see you waiting for me, and i keep learning the same lesson.”
you forgive him. not because it doesn’t hurt anymore, but because carrying that hurt has grown exhausting.
you tell him you won’t get back together.
sae doesn’t argue. he adapts.
he starts rearranging his life in ways he never did before. adjusting flights just to spend a few extra hours in the same city as you. inviting you – not insisting – to dinners, exhibitions, quiet walks. showing you he can stay. that he’s learned how to be present.
it must be working because one day, you watch him walk beside you through a terminal, close, but not touching, and you realize the space between you feels smaller than it should.
nagi seishiro
nagi hurt you by not trying, and somehow, that cut deeper than any argument ever could.
he loved you. you never doubted that. but love, to him, was something that existed without effort. he assumed you’d always be there, assumed your patience was infinite. you planned dates. you initiated conversations. you fought for closeness while he followed along, content to let you carry the weight of the relationship.
you didn’t break up because of one big thing. you broke up because of everything he didn’t do.
the day you finally told him you were tired, he looked genuinely confused. he said relationships weren’t supposed to be this hard. you told him they weren’t – at least when both people showed up. he didn’t cry. he just stared at you, like he’d dropped something fragile and only realized its value once it shattered.
you blocked him on all platforms. vanished completely.
two years later, you run into him at a vending machine on the street, late at night. he looks older. quieter. more awake.
he apologizes awkwardly, stumbling over words he’s clearly rehearsed a hundred times in his head. tells you “losing you was the first thing that ever made me try, and i hate that it took that.” that for a long time, he didn’t even know how to miss someone properly, until every dream ended with you leaving. until he woke up reaching for a phone that no longer had your name in it.
you forgive him. because you can see the growth in the way he holds himself now. but you tell him no. you won’t be the lesson he learned too late.
nagi doesn’t beg. he changes.
he starts showing effort in quiet, tangible ways. learning how to plan. remembering details. doing things even when they’re inconvenient, because he finally understands that love isn’t just comfort – it’s choice.
eventually, you find yourself watching him wait for you outside a café one evening, patient, hopeful, not assuming anything.
and you hate how your heart tightens at the sight.
mikage reo
reo hurt you by loving you too much and not loving himself enough.
he made you his world without realizing how heavy that burden was. his happiness revolved around you. his plans, his emotions, his sense of self, all tied to your presence. at first, it felt flattering. intoxicating. but slowly, it became suffocating. you felt responsible for his moods, his insecurities, his fears of being left behind.
every argument ended with him apologizing too much. every boundary you tried to set felt like it wounded him deeply. you loved him, but you were losing yourself trying to hold him together.
the breakup was messy. tears. trembling hands. reo begging you not to leave, promising he’d change if you just stayed. you told him you couldn’t be his entire world anymore. you blocked him because hearing his voice hurt too much.
two years pass.
when you see him again at a work event, he’s different. still warm. still bright. but grounded.
he apologizes – not for losing you, but for turning you into something you were never meant to be. he tells you he spent months learning how to stand on his own. rebuilding his identity. finding joy that didn’t depend on someone else’s presence.
even now, he admits, “loving me shouldn’t have felt like a responsibility. so if you ever choose me again, i promise it won’t be because i need you – only because i want you.”
you forgive him. softly. carefully.
but you still say no.
reo doesn’t spiral this time. doesn’t cling. he smiles, bittersweet, and thanks you for teaching him something that saved him.
you wonder if love that’s learned restraint might be the most dangerous kind of all.
bachira meguru
bachira hurt you without meaning to.
he loved you loudly, brightly, like a kid with paint-stained hands who wanted to color outside every line of your life. at first, it was intoxicating. he pulled you into his world with laughter and chaos and affection that came easy. but somewhere along the way, you realized you were always the one grounding him, never the other way around.
he disappeared emotionally when things got heavy. when you needed seriousness, he deflected with jokes. when you needed reassurance, he talked about his “monster,” about instincts and impulses, as if that explained everything. it felt like loving someone who could only meet you halfway before sprinting off again.
the fight that ended it was quiet, but final. you told him you felt alone even when he was right there. he stared at you, smile gone, like he’d just learned a language he never knew existed. he said he didn’t know how to be what you needed. you said you didn’t want to beg anymore.
you blocked him the next morning.
three years later, you see him at a street festival – music, lights, laughter everywhere. it feels cruelly fitting.
he freezes when he spots you. then he runs up, eyes wide, heart on full display. he apologizes immediately, words tumbling over each other, voice cracking. he tells you he tried to be okay. that he trained harder, laughed louder, surrounded himself with people, but every quiet moment dragged him back to you. that he dreams of you standing still while he keeps moving, and no matter how fast he runs, he can’t reach you.
you forgive him. because he’s never been malicious – just unfinished.
you tell him you won’t get back together.
bachira doesn’t push. instead, he learns how to stay. he learns how to listen without filling the silence. he starts therapy, starts asking questions instead of avoiding them. he sends you drawings sometimes – memories, apologies, moments he never said out loud.
one of them contains the words: “if love is learning how to stay, then you were the lesson i never wanted to lose.”
you pin that one to your wall without realizing you’ve done it.
shidou ryusei
shidou hurt you the way a wildfire hurts a forest – beautiful, loud, and utterly devastating once the smoke clears.
loving him was never gentle. it was heat and adrenaline and the kind of passion that made you feel chosen in the most feral way possible. when things were good, they were intoxicating. when they weren’t, they were catastrophic. arguments didn’t simmer, they exploded. words were never filtered, only sharpened. he loved you with his whole chest, but he fought like love was something to conquer instead of protect.
the night it ended, you remember how calm you felt. not because you didn’t care, but because something in you had finally gone quiet.
he was pacing, agitated, adrenaline still buzzing under his skin from training. voices were raised. accusations flew. and then he said it. one sentence. careless. cruel. aimed directly at the softest part of you, like he knew exactly where to strike.
“if you’re gonna be this fragile, maybe you’re just not built for me.”
the silence after was unbearable.
you didn’t yell. you didn’t cry. you just stared at him, heart pounding, and realized something fundamental had broken. you grabbed your things, walked past him while he was still breathing hard, and left. by morning, he was blocked everywhere. gone. erased.
a year later, you see him outside a gym, leaning against the wall like the world has finally taught him restraint. he looks… different. not weaker, just quieter. older. like someone who has sat alone with his thoughts for far too long.
he doesn’t smirk when he sees you. doesn’t joke. his voice is low when he says your name, like he’s afraid to scare you away.
“i fucked up,” he says immediately. no bravado. no excuses. “i know i did.”
he tells you he tried to forget you the only way he knew how – violence, intensity, distractions that burned just as hot as he did. none of it worked. every night, when his body finally slowed down, his mind betrayed him. you haunted him. the way you walked away without looking back. the way you never gave him the chance to take it back.
you forgive him. not because it didn’t destroy you, but because holding onto that moment has started to rot inside you.
you tell him you won’t get back together.
he nods. swallows hard. then, quietly, almost painfully restrained, he says, “then i’ll become someone who never says something like that again. even if you’re the only one who ever sees it.”
he starts changing in ways no one expects from him. discipline where there used to be chaos. silence where there used to be rage. control. real control.
you find yourself lying awake one night, replaying the way his voice didn’t shake when he promised he’d wait, and hating how much you believe him.
karasu tabito
karasu hurt you with precision.
he knew you. really knew you. your insecurities, your patterns, the way you needed reassurance even when you pretended you didn’t. and yet, every time you asked for more – more presence, more commitment, more certainty – he responded with logic instead of care. he treated love like something that could be managed, compartmentalized, optimized.
he never raised his voice. never said anything overtly cruel. but he made you feel small in subtler ways: by prioritizing his freedom, by keeping emotional distance even when you were falling apart right in front of him.
the breakup was clean. surgical.
you told him you were tired of being understood, but not chosen. he stared at you for a long moment before saying, “i don’t think i’m built for the kind of attachment ya want.”
that sentence echoed in your head for months.
you blocked him everywhere that same night.
two years later, you meet in a café neither of you frequent. coincidence, probably. he looks composed as ever, but there’s something restless beneath it now, like a man who’s finally learned what he lost.
he apologizes carefully. deliberately. like every word has been weighed and measured.
“i thought distance made me strong,” he admits. “turns out it just made me lonely.”
he tells you he tried everything – routines, social circles, throwing himself into soccer, convincing himself that detachment was maturity. none of it stopped you from living in his head. every quiet moment betrayed him. every closed eye brought you back.
you forgive him. because time has softened the edges. because you don’t want to carry resentment anymore.
you still say no.
karasu doesn’t argue. doesn’t plead. he just nods and says, “i won’t ask for what i haven’t earned.”
from that day on, he becomes intentional. vulnerable in ways that terrify him. he stops analyzing you like a puzzle and starts respecting you like a person.
you stare at your phone one night, rereading a message he sent hours ago: i know i lost ya once by not choosing ya. i won’t make that mistake again – whether it’s with ya, or anyone.
and you realize the scariest part isn’t that he’s changed.
it’s that he finally understands.
kaiser michael
kaiser didn’t hurt you by accident.
he hurt you with control.
he loved you in a way that felt intoxicating at first – exclusive, consuming, like you were chosen above everyone else. he put you on a pedestal, called you his, made you feel special in a way that bordered on reverence. but slowly, imperceptibly, that love twisted. because it was never healthy in the first place.
compliments turned conditional. affection became something you earned. when you disagreed with him, he withdrew. when you tried to set boundaries, he smiled like you’d said something amusing.
he never raised his voice. never hit you. never cheated.
he just made you doubt yourself.
he’d frame his cruelty as honesty. his manipulation as care. if you were hurt, it was because you “misunderstood” him. if you cried, it was because you were “too emotional.” if you tried to leave, he’d remind you – softly, convincingly – that no one else would love you the way he did.
the breakup shattered you.
you told him you felt small around him. he laughed, actually laughed, and said, “you should feel lucky i tolerate your flaws.”
that was the moment something in you snapped.
you blocked him everywhere. disappeared so thoroughly it bruised his ego in ways he’d never experienced before.
years later, you run into him after a match. he looks immaculate. confident. untouchable. until he sees you.
for the first time, his composure fractures.
he approaches you like he’s stepping onto thin ice. his voice is quieter than you remember. he apologizes – not theatrically, not dramatically – but with something raw and new underneath the arrogance. he tells you he tried to replace you with routine. with dominance. with conquest. none of it worked. every time he closed his eyes, it was you who haunted him – not submissive, not broken, but gone.
“you were the only one who ever saw through me,” he says, jaw tight. “and i destroyed that.”
you forgive him. not because he deserves it, but because you deserve peace.
you tell him you won’t get back together.
that’s when kaiser does the unthinkable.
he relinquishes control.
he stops posturing. stops manipulating. he goes to therapy, not because he’s broken, but because he finally admits he doesn’t know how to love without owning. he starts showing up without demands. without expectations.
later one night, you catch yourself staring at a text he sent hours ago:
i don’t want to possess you. i just want to be someone you’d choose freely.
and you hate how much that sentence stays with you.
ness alexis
ness hurt you by loving you wrong.
he loved you obsessively, desperately, like you were the answer to a question he’d been asking his whole life. he molded himself around you. mirrored your interests. prioritized you over everything… except one thing.
kaiser.
you were always second to someone else’s shadow.
every time kaiser needed him, ness disappeared. every time you needed reassurance, ness spiraled. his love was intense, but unstable, clinging and brittle all at once. you felt like you were constantly calming him down, constantly reassuring him you weren’t leaving, until you realized how exhausted you were.
the breakup was heartbreaking.
you told him you couldn’t keep being the thing he clung to for survival. he sobbed. begged. promised he’d change if you just stayed. you blocked him because hearing him cry made your resolve waver.
years later, you meet him by chance outside a café. he looks healthier. steadier. still gentle, but grounded.
he apologizes immediately, voice shaking, but sincere. tells you he tried to fill the emptiness with routines. therapy. friends. learning how to exist without attaching himself to someone else. he admits he still dreams of you – that in those dreams, you’re always smiling at him kindly, forgivingly, and it hurts more than anger ever could.
you forgive him. because you can see how hard he’s worked to become whole.
you tell him you won’t get back together.
ness nods, eyes wet, but calm. “i don’t want you back if it means losing myself again,” he says softly. “i just… wanted you to know i love you better now than i knew how back then.”
he starts showing you love without dependency. support without suffocation.
eventually, you realize that sometimes the most dangerous thing isn’t obsession – it’s growth.
A = Affection (how do they show their love and affection ? how intense would it get)
Alexis Ness shows his love through their control of you. Everything he does is for you and your happiness, and all you have to do is keep up the illusion of perfection.
B = Blood (how messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling)
The sight of blood makes them squeamish, and he’s more of a talker than a fighter. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t willing to throw down, fists clenching as his blood boils for you. Ness prefers to keep up the act of kind, not wanting to break the illusion of a perfect boyfriend.
C = Cruelty (how would they treat their darling once abducted ? would they mock them)
To him, he’s not abducting you, rather he’s protecting you. The world is so cruel, and he doesn’t want you getting hurt. Even if the scene has long gone stale, he swears to protect the delusion of paradise for you.
D= Darling (aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will)
They have a compulsion to lie to you, Ness doesn’t want to risk you ever leaving him, so he does his best to never give you a reason to.
E = Exposed (how much of their heart do they bare to their darling ? how vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling)
Although he plays the part of an honest boyfriend, he is anything but. There’s a secret hiding underneath his easy-going smile. You may think you know him, but every piece of knowledge is something he’s lovingly handfed you. But it’s nothing you need to worry about, he promises to take care of everything for you, all you need to do is trust him.
F = Fight (how would they feel if their darling fought back)
He would feel betrayed. After everything he’s done for you, fighting back would not only be disrespectful but stupid on your part. He doesn’t see why you would fight back, especially since in his eyes, he’s done nothing wrong.
G = Game (is this a game to them ? how much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape)
They don’t see it as a game, but they do wonder how long it’ll take before you find out about his . . meaner habits. He really doesn’t like when you try to leave him, while he may be patient with you, Ness is infamous for his short temper.
H = Hell (what would be their darling’s worst experience with them)
One day, you threatened to leave him, blocking him on all platforms and hiding out at your friend’s house, thinking it was safe. Ness won’t admit it, but he had never panicked as much as he did, scrambling to get you back no matter what it too. He spent nights outside the house, begging for you to return to him. It was then that you learned that he would always know where you were, and that you would never be able to truly get rid of him.
I = Ideals (what kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling)
To him, a perfect future would be coming home to you, his perfect little housewife. Everything important would be taken care of, from bills to spending money, all you had to do was appreciate him for all the effort he put into resting such a perfect paradise.
J = Jealousy (do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope)
Although he gets jealous easily, he’s easy to calm down, trusting that no one could ever love you the way he does. If someone gets a little too interested, he tries not to lash out, doing his best to only do things that you would approve of. Instead, he’ll simply show off how happy you two are together, cementing that no one could replace him.
K = Kisses (how do they act around or with their darling)
He’s very clingy, often exhausted and tired when he gets home, desperately in need of your affection. He’ll be the sweetest boyfriend ever to you, telling you about his day and how nice he’d been to everyone, in fact, he’s been so nice that you should reward him, don’t you agree?
L = Love Letters (how would they go about courting or approaching their darling)
Everything is staged, every ‘coincidental meeting’, every small detail is all planned by him. It all has to be perfect, if it wasn’t, you’d never fall in love with him.
M = Mask (are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else)
While he’s known for his sweet face, he’s also known for his short-temper. To everyone, he may appear kind, but it doesn’t take long for his true colors to show. For you however, he refuses to let you ever find out about his ugly side.
N = Naughty (how would they punish their darling)
Ness isn’t a fan of punishing you, if he’s too rough, you might want to leave him. Instead of physical punishments, he prefers the kind that reinforced your dependence on him. His favorite is cutting the bill or lessening your allowance. He wants you to realize just how much control he has over your life, and that if he so wanted, he could easily break the sweet fantasy he’s trapped you in.
O = Oppression (how many rights would they take away from their darling)
He tries his best not to limit you too much. If he does take away your rights, it’s because he believes you’re better off without them. A few examples would be things like having a job or talking to men, a princess like you shouldn’t need to work for the things you want, and there’s no need for other men in your life when you have him.
P = Patience (how patient are they with their darling)
His patience is seemingly never-ending with you, on the surface that is. He can’t deny that some of your foolish acts at the beginning of your relationship made him clench his fists hard enough to draw blood.
Q = Quit (if their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on)
Ness wouldn’t be able to move on. That’s why he has to ensure your safety. Finding you was like finding purpose, and to lose that purpose would be to lose all reason.
R = Regret (would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling ? would they ever let their darling go)
Again, he doesn’t truly see it as abducting you. He provides anything you would ever need, so in his eyes there’s no real reason to let you go. He uses you as his justification, everything he does is righteous as long as it’s for you.
S = Stigma (what brought about this side of them)
Being tossed to the side again. After everything he gave to Kaiser, he was still deemed inadequate. He believes that his team turning against him was all his fault. That’s what caused his fixation on perfection, and of course, his fixation on you.
T = Tears: (how do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves)
Ness is weak to the sight of your tears, but conflicted at the same time. Of course, he wants to help you feel better, but he can’t deny the satisfaction he gets out of seeing you cry. Kaiser never faltered in front of him, never showed him such a weak and vulnerable state. He hates it when you isolate yourself, but secretly, he’s a little appreciative of it, taking it as a chance to show just how dependent you are on him.
U = Unique (would they do anything different from the classic yandere)
He’s not a violent yandere, more manipulative and controlling than anything. His biggest fear is that you’ll find out the truth behind your relationship and that you’ll break the delusion he’s worked so hard to weave.
V = Vice: (what weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape)
His short-tempter. If you anger him enough, he might hurt you, causing him to doubt his worthiness of you. If you play your cards right, you can build the pressure on him, giving you just a few days of freedom before he comes to his senses, tracking you down and taking you back to your personal heaven.
W= Wit’s end (would they ever hurt their darling)
He doesn’t want to, and that’s why he wants to prevent you from finding any fault in him. If you just play your part as the kind, forgiving, and caring girlfriend, he won’t have a reason to get mad at you.
X = Xoanon (how much would they revere or worship their darling ? to what length would they go to win their darling over)
He sees you as a perfect pair, made for each other in every way possible. Ness doesn’t care if it takes months or years, he believes that eventually, you’ll come to see it like that too.
Y = Yearn (how long do they pine after their darling before they snap)
It takes Ness ages to finally approach you, but when you first met him, flashing him a warm smile at one of the lowest times of his life, he just knew that you would be his new fixation.
Z = Zenith (would they ever break their darling)
He doesn’t want to break you, actually Ness prefers you to stay perfectly oblivious to everything. He finds it better if you’re genuinely in love with him, even if how it came to be is anything but.
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.
some of the attractive things that the blue lock men do.
featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, yukimiya kenyu ─ content: fluff, suggestive
note. yukki debut on my acc ??? do we fw the casual, less poetic writing cuz there was really no way to make this poetic 👩🦯 just astronomically down bad writing all around
itoshi rin sends you gym pics without you having to ask.
it initially took a lot of convincing, at first, to get rin to send you a picture. in his eyes, it was embarrassing— the idea of pulling his phone out mid-workout, taking a picture, sending it to you, and then going back to whatever he was doing. his mind would drift off to the weird stares he would probably get from others, and the fact that he also wasn’t exactly known for knowing how to pose to begin with. as much as he loved making you happy, there were just some things he was not willing to do.
it took a lot of begging, and for the first few months, the answer was always, “no.”
the first picture came unexpectedly. your phone was thrown off to the side of the bed, not really anticipating any texts from rin for the next hour or so, given the fact that he was at the gym. so you were surprised when you heard a familiar tune come from your phone— one specifically assigned to his contact. you had no idea why he would be texting you.
you’re absolutely floored at what you see; jaw left hanging and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, almost dropping the phone.
it's a gym picture. he's doing a normal pose, nothing too special. he’s standing in front of the mirror, one hand shoved into the pocket of his shorts, and the other holding onto his phone. his face was partly covered by his phone, but you could see the blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. but it wasn’t that that got your attention— no, it was something entirely different.
he was wearing a sleeveless compression shirt, giving you a full view of his arms. they were glistening in sweat and perfectly toned. the arm that was propping his phone up was slightly flexed, from the position it was in, adding to the bulk and definition in his biceps. and you could see the veins traveling up the arm of his hand, the one that was shoved into his pocket, crawling up from the back of his hand to his forearm. the bright overhead lighting, with a combination of the dim background lighting, served to emphasize every line and crevice of his exposed skin.
“this what you wanted?” came a message right after, “i know you’re reading this right now, respond.” you felt weak. he definitely researched how to do this.
words couldn't describe how you felt. so, your immediate response was to send him a flurry of incoherent texts; a mixture of randomly pressed keys and crying emojis. but that’s what feeds his ego— your reactions are what makes smile smugly to himself, covering his lips with his hands as he reads your texts over. he starts to send you gym pictures more consistently after that, patiently waiting for your response after each one. at this point, it’s become a part of his gym routine.
itoshi sae drapes his arm over the back of your seat while reversing.
driving with sae was a true test of control— specifically, yours. it had become increasingly hard to focus whenever he was driving, with every little motion of his body seeming to pull your attention away from the road. he was just so distracting, to the point that you had started offering to drive instead. yet to no avail, because he always insisted on being the driver, furthering your silent suffering in the passenger's seat. but, there was nothing more testing than whenever he was reversing the car.
it’s an internal battle; it takes everything in you not to ogle him so openly. and somehow, you’re losing a battle to yourself.
it’s as if your eyes instantly become magnetized to sae— the way he moves when he rests his arm so casually, yet so securely, on the back of your headrest’s frame. and it doesn’t help that this position gives such a perfect view of him. the way the muscles in his arm ripple and flex ever so slightly, but visibly, under his loose dress shirt. the way his folded sleeves ride up every time, and the exposed part of his forearm constantly taunts you to take a peek. you hate that you suddenly become hyperaware of everything he does in that moment. especially his fingers, and the way they tickle the back of your neck, almost touching you but not quite there.
you have to hold back the subtle shudder that sweeps over your body.
it feels like he’s taking up so much space, demanding you to notice him. the way the scent of his cologne wafts over to you, the bergamot and sandalwood notes of it slowly overwhelming your senses. the faint shift in his posture, emphasizing the subtle stretch of his neck, giving you a view of his collarbones and necklace. and the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he speaks, his voice in a low tone, with his eyes flitting over to you momentarily before they’re back on the road.
it has to be intentional, he has to be aware of what he’s doing. “you’re doing this on purpose,” you mutter under your breath, willing yourself to turn away and look out the window.
“doing what on purpose?” he asks, but the mirth in his tone is evident— you can practically hear the tiny smirk that’s splayed on his lips. you’ve concluded that he’s sick in the head, that he’s playing with you right in your face. “i’m just making sure we don’t get into a crash, you baby.” and you willingly fall for it, every time.
nagi seishiro becomes clingy when it's just the two of you.
laying in your lap, while you’re absorbed in your own hobby, is one of nagi’s favorite pastimes. it keeps him close to you, but allows you both to do your own thing. sometimes, he’d take a nap while you work, one hand loosely holding onto yours in his sleep. other times, he’d play video games on his phone, making sure his volume is turned all the way down to not distract you. but most of the time, he likes to just lay there and admire you, with a barely noticeable smile on his lips.
but he becomes somewhat miffed whenever your hair falls in front of your face, blocking his (initially) flawless view of you. and it annoys him more whenever you don’t push it out of the way.
so, he decided to take it upon himself to move it for you, arm lazily stretched up to reach for you. you barely noticed it at first, so absorbed in the book that you were reading. the sensation of his fingers ghosting over your cheeks doesn’t register in your mind, and his touch is barely there. and then you feel it. his fingers are in your hair, gathering the strands on the back of his hand before he’s brushing it out of the way. it’s so gentle, the way he locks your hair behind your ear, and the way his hand lingers a little longer on your skin after. his fingers then travel from your ear to your jawline, finger lightly tracing the side of your jaw, and it makes you curl in on yourself at the feeling. (it tickles, but also oddly comforting.) and then, he’s pulling his arm back down to reach for your wrist instead, fingers wrapping around it.
your skin is tingling, and the surface of your skin feels warm— taken aback by the sudden act of affection. you glance down at him with a curious look, only to see that he’s already staring attentively at you, and you feel his hold on you tighten. “you know,” you begin, “you could’ve just asked me to do it for you.”
"you always get so lost in whatever you're doing," he mumbles slowly, his voice sounding almost whiney at the fact. his hand, the one firmly holding onto your wrist, is traveling up until it’s wiggling the book out of your hand. (you don’t miss the small furrow of his brows when you jokingly grip onto the book, before giving in and letting it fall to the side.) he takes this chance to intertwine your fingers, his larger hands completely enveloping yours. "i don't mind it, but i hate when i can’t see you."
michael kaiser holds intense eye contact with you when you're talking.
at times, you found it hard to talk to kaiser. he's constantly exuding such an intense confidence, one that's often present in his gaze, that you could never truly hold face-to-face conversations with him. you're always shying away from it, crumbling under the intensity, and he finds twisted pleasure in how flustered it makes you. the way the words always die on the tip of your tongue whenever your eyes meet, when you see that his focus is locked on you
it makes you look away, because it's the only thing you can do to escape it. but kaiser doesn't like it when you're looking away from him— he wants your attention. he wants to see you when you talk excitedly about your day.
he’ll get that attention however way he can. from where you're seated on the couch gives him quick access to you. you can feel his tattooed hand crawling up the skin of your thighs, sliding up slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. he stops short of the hem of your shorts, planting his hand firmly on the spot. he gives it a firm squeeze, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs— trying to get you to cave into him. “why won’t you look at me when you talk?” he’s leaning into you, invading your personal space despite the spacious couch. you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear with each word, “mein liebling, i want to see you when you talk. look at me.”
“you can listen to me talk without needing me to look at you,” you swallow, and his grip tightens ever so slightly at your words.
you're shifting awkwardly, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the proximity, at the fact that his voice has started to sound almost pleading. almost— because he would never admit to something as desperate as pleading. it’s hard to focus when he’s this close, when he’s right there. his fingers remain on your thigh, tracing deliberate lines over your skin, and despite the way you're trying to resist, you can feel your resolve crumbling.
it’s not every day that you see someone like kaiser be on the precipice of begging for your attention.
“i promise, i’ll stop teasing you. look—” his other hand is hooking under your chin, coaxing you to look at him. and you do— his eyes, once intense and teasing, now holds a softer and almost guilty looking gaze. “keep talking, yeah?”
oliver aiku likes to loosen his necktie with one hand after a formal event.
neckties are the worst, an opinion oliver will stand by ‘til the end of time. he absolutely despises having to put one on for formal events, and he’ll do his best to charm his way out of having to wear one. it never works, so the second he puts it on, he’s already thinking of the moment he gets to pull it off of himself. he doesn’t think much of it when he does it— one finger looping in the space between his neck and necktie, and he’s pulling at it without care.
but recently, he’s started to notice how intently you’d been staring each time he did it.
oliver’s got a keen-eye; not even the smallest thing can get past him. he drinks in the sight of you when he does it, eyes fixed on you, and taking joy in the fact that you don’t even seem to notice. you’re too busy being fixated on his hand, and the way the vein on his hand becomes prominent when he flexes it to pull, or the way his fingers seem to play around with the fabric. your eyes are so sharp, but somehow so unfocused, all at the same time. he loves how it gets you worked up.
it’s entertaining, so he takes it up a notch.
he drags his fingers, slowly, down to the first button of his shirt. and then he’s unbuttoning it with one hand, putting in extra effort in exposing his collarbones. he can’t fight the grin that makes its way to his lips, at your reaction— your eyes are widening, and he can visibly see you gulp at the sight. and then your eyes are shooting up to meet his, and his grin becomes impossibly wider.
“like what you see?” the teasing and flirtatious lilt in his voice is unmistakable, and you can’t help but draw your eyes back down to where his hand is twirling the tie around his fingers. he makes you tick, but he’s also so attractive, and you hate that he can easily make you blush with his words.
“you wish.” you choose to look away with a scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “it’s gonna take more than that.” that makes him oddly excited, brows raising in mild surprise, and you honestly should’ve known better. it’s like you’re offering up a new challenge to him, and he gladly accepts.
oliver still hates neckties; that’s an opinion that will never change. he still looks forward to the second he gets to pull it off. except now, he gets to play a little game with you while he does it.
yukimiya kenyu keeps a hand on your back at all times, in public.
it’s a habit formed purely from the fact that the streets of shibuya have the tendency to become really crowded, and yukimiya hates it when you get separated from him in such a crowd. he likes it when you’re right by his side— he can keep a close eye on you at all times and protect you from getting pushed around. and originally, it started off with holding your hands. it was fine during the colder seasons, providing the two of you with extra warmth. but you had both quickly realized that it could become quite uncomfortable during summer, making your hands all sweaty and sticky.
so he experimented. he let his arm drop from your shoulders to the small of your back, his palm hovering over your skin, initially unsure of how you would react.
“is this okay?” he would lean down to whisper in your ear, and his voice was so gentle and so concerned about you. even when he was the one getting shoved around by the crowd, with people constantly running into the sides of his shoulders, he was still only thinking about you. you and your comfort. “tell me if this is uncomfortable, and i’ll figure something else out. okay?”
it made you shiver— you felt a heat crawl up your spine, and your stomach was immediately fluttering with butterflies.
you nod, “no, this is okay.” more than okay, actually, but you keep that to yourself. “thank you for asking.” he flashes you one of his pretty smiles, and he leans up to look straight ahead in the crowd again. but this time, his touch is more present— his palm is now firmly planted onto your skin, and he’s actively weaving you through the crowded streets.
whenever someone would get too close to you, or if he anticipates that someone is about to crash into you, his hand would travel to the side of your waist. and yukimiya grips on it, pulling your body flush against his side, effectively pulling you out of the way. “sorry,” he’ll whisper an apology, not having intended to hold you so tightly. his hands will go right back to where they initially were, not without trailing his fingers on the way back, leaving sparks tingling across your skin where he touched. “did i hurt you?”
“no, i’m fine,” you can keep your hand there, you almost tell him. it drives you insane that everything he does is unintentional— but maybe, one day, you'll be able to tell him exactly what you’re thinking.
some of the attractive things that the blue lock men do.
featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, yukimiya kenyu ─ content: fluff, suggestive
note. yukki debut on my acc ??? do we fw the casual, less poetic writing cuz there was really no way to make this poetic 👩🦯 just astronomically down bad writing all around
itoshi rin sends you gym pics without you having to ask.
it initially took a lot of convincing, at first, to get rin to send you a picture. in his eyes, it was embarrassing— the idea of pulling his phone out mid-workout, taking a picture, sending it to you, and then going back to whatever he was doing. his mind would drift off to the weird stares he would probably get from others, and the fact that he also wasn’t exactly known for knowing how to pose to begin with. as much as he loved making you happy, there were just some things he was not willing to do.
it took a lot of begging, and for the first few months, the answer was always, “no.”
the first picture came unexpectedly. your phone was thrown off to the side of the bed, not really anticipating any texts from rin for the next hour or so, given the fact that he was at the gym. so you were surprised when you heard a familiar tune come from your phone— one specifically assigned to his contact. you had no idea why he would be texting you.
you’re absolutely floored at what you see; jaw left hanging and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, almost dropping the phone.
it's a gym picture. he's doing a normal pose, nothing too special. he’s standing in front of the mirror, one hand shoved into the pocket of his shorts, and the other holding onto his phone. his face was partly covered by his phone, but you could see the blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. but it wasn’t that that got your attention— no, it was something entirely different.
he was wearing a sleeveless compression shirt, giving you a full view of his arms. they were glistening in sweat and perfectly toned. the arm that was propping his phone up was slightly flexed, from the position it was in, adding to the bulk and definition in his biceps. and you could see the veins traveling up the arm of his hand, the one that was shoved into his pocket, crawling up from the back of his hand to his forearm. the bright overhead lighting, with a combination of the dim background lighting, served to emphasize every line and crevice of his exposed skin.
“this what you wanted?” came a message right after, “i know you’re reading this right now, respond.” you felt weak. he definitely researched how to do this.
words couldn't describe how you felt. so, your immediate response was to send him a flurry of incoherent texts; a mixture of randomly pressed keys and crying emojis. but that’s what feeds his ego— your reactions are what makes smile smugly to himself, covering his lips with his hands as he reads your texts over. he starts to send you gym pictures more consistently after that, patiently waiting for your response after each one. at this point, it’s become a part of his gym routine.
itoshi sae drapes his arm over the back of your seat while reversing.
driving with sae was a true test of control— specifically, yours. it had become increasingly hard to focus whenever he was driving, with every little motion of his body seeming to pull your attention away from the road. he was just so distracting, to the point that you had started offering to drive instead. yet to no avail, because he always insisted on being the driver, furthering your silent suffering in the passenger's seat. but, there was nothing more testing than whenever he was reversing the car.
it’s an internal battle; it takes everything in you not to ogle him so openly. and somehow, you’re losing a battle to yourself.
it’s as if your eyes instantly become magnetized to sae— the way he moves when he rests his arm so casually, yet so securely, on the back of your headrest’s frame. and it doesn’t help that this position gives such a perfect view of him. the way the muscles in his arm ripple and flex ever so slightly, but visibly, under his loose dress shirt. the way his folded sleeves ride up every time, and the exposed part of his forearm constantly taunts you to take a peek. you hate that you suddenly become hyperaware of everything he does in that moment. especially his fingers, and the way they tickle the back of your neck, almost touching you but not quite there.
you have to hold back the subtle shudder that sweeps over your body.
it feels like he’s taking up so much space, demanding you to notice him. the way the scent of his cologne wafts over to you, the bergamot and sandalwood notes of it slowly overwhelming your senses. the faint shift in his posture, emphasizing the subtle stretch of his neck, giving you a view of his collarbones and necklace. and the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he speaks, his voice in a low tone, with his eyes flitting over to you momentarily before they’re back on the road.
it has to be intentional, he has to be aware of what he’s doing. “you’re doing this on purpose,” you mutter under your breath, willing yourself to turn away and look out the window.
“doing what on purpose?” he asks, but the mirth in his tone is evident— you can practically hear the tiny smirk that’s splayed on his lips. you’ve concluded that he’s sick in the head, that he’s playing with you right in your face. “i’m just making sure we don’t get into a crash, you baby.” and you willingly fall for it, every time.
nagi seishiro becomes clingy when it's just the two of you.
laying in your lap, while you’re absorbed in your own hobby, is one of nagi’s favorite pastimes. it keeps him close to you, but allows you both to do your own thing. sometimes, he’d take a nap while you work, one hand loosely holding onto yours in his sleep. other times, he’d play video games on his phone, making sure his volume is turned all the way down to not distract you. but most of the time, he likes to just lay there and admire you, with a barely noticeable smile on his lips.
but he becomes somewhat miffed whenever your hair falls in front of your face, blocking his (initially) flawless view of you. and it annoys him more whenever you don’t push it out of the way.
so, he decided to take it upon himself to move it for you, arm lazily stretched up to reach for you. you barely noticed it at first, so absorbed in the book that you were reading. the sensation of his fingers ghosting over your cheeks doesn’t register in your mind, and his touch is barely there. and then you feel it. his fingers are in your hair, gathering the strands on the back of his hand before he’s brushing it out of the way. it’s so gentle, the way he locks your hair behind your ear, and the way his hand lingers a little longer on your skin after. his fingers then travel from your ear to your jawline, finger lightly tracing the side of your jaw, and it makes you curl in on yourself at the feeling. (it tickles, but also oddly comforting.) and then, he’s pulling his arm back down to reach for your wrist instead, fingers wrapping around it.
your skin is tingling, and the surface of your skin feels warm— taken aback by the sudden act of affection. you glance down at him with a curious look, only to see that he’s already staring attentively at you, and you feel his hold on you tighten. “you know,” you begin, “you could’ve just asked me to do it for you.”
"you always get so lost in whatever you're doing," he mumbles slowly, his voice sounding almost whiney at the fact. his hand, the one firmly holding onto your wrist, is traveling up until it’s wiggling the book out of your hand. (you don’t miss the small furrow of his brows when you jokingly grip onto the book, before giving in and letting it fall to the side.) he takes this chance to intertwine your fingers, his larger hands completely enveloping yours. "i don't mind it, but i hate when i can’t see you."
michael kaiser holds intense eye contact with you when you're talking.
at times, you found it hard to talk to kaiser. he's constantly exuding such an intense confidence, one that's often present in his gaze, that you could never truly hold face-to-face conversations with him. you're always shying away from it, crumbling under the intensity, and he finds twisted pleasure in how flustered it makes you. the way the words always die on the tip of your tongue whenever your eyes meet, when you see that his focus is locked on you
it makes you look away, because it's the only thing you can do to escape it. but kaiser doesn't like it when you're looking away from him— he wants your attention. he wants to see you when you talk excitedly about your day.
he’ll get that attention however way he can. from where you're seated on the couch gives him quick access to you. you can feel his tattooed hand crawling up the skin of your thighs, sliding up slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. he stops short of the hem of your shorts, planting his hand firmly on the spot. he gives it a firm squeeze, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs— trying to get you to cave into him. “why won’t you look at me when you talk?” he’s leaning into you, invading your personal space despite the spacious couch. you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear with each word, “mein liebling, i want to see you when you talk. look at me.”
“you can listen to me talk without needing me to look at you,” you swallow, and his grip tightens ever so slightly at your words.
you're shifting awkwardly, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the proximity, at the fact that his voice has started to sound almost pleading. almost— because he would never admit to something as desperate as pleading. it’s hard to focus when he’s this close, when he’s right there. his fingers remain on your thigh, tracing deliberate lines over your skin, and despite the way you're trying to resist, you can feel your resolve crumbling.
it’s not every day that you see someone like kaiser be on the precipice of begging for your attention.
“i promise, i’ll stop teasing you. look—” his other hand is hooking under your chin, coaxing you to look at him. and you do— his eyes, once intense and teasing, now holds a softer and almost guilty looking gaze. “keep talking, yeah?”
oliver aiku likes to loosen his necktie with one hand after a formal event.
neckties are the worst, an opinion oliver will stand by ‘til the end of time. he absolutely despises having to put one on for formal events, and he’ll do his best to charm his way out of having to wear one. it never works, so the second he puts it on, he’s already thinking of the moment he gets to pull it off of himself. he doesn’t think much of it when he does it— one finger looping in the space between his neck and necktie, and he’s pulling at it without care.
but recently, he’s started to notice how intently you’d been staring each time he did it.
oliver’s got a keen-eye; not even the smallest thing can get past him. he drinks in the sight of you when he does it, eyes fixed on you, and taking joy in the fact that you don’t even seem to notice. you’re too busy being fixated on his hand, and the way the vein on his hand becomes prominent when he flexes it to pull, or the way his fingers seem to play around with the fabric. your eyes are so sharp, but somehow so unfocused, all at the same time. he loves how it gets you worked up.
it’s entertaining, so he takes it up a notch.
he drags his fingers, slowly, down to the first button of his shirt. and then he’s unbuttoning it with one hand, putting in extra effort in exposing his collarbones. he can’t fight the grin that makes its way to his lips, at your reaction— your eyes are widening, and he can visibly see you gulp at the sight. and then your eyes are shooting up to meet his, and his grin becomes impossibly wider.
“like what you see?” the teasing and flirtatious lilt in his voice is unmistakable, and you can’t help but draw your eyes back down to where his hand is twirling the tie around his fingers. he makes you tick, but he’s also so attractive, and you hate that he can easily make you blush with his words.
“you wish.” you choose to look away with a scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “it’s gonna take more than that.” that makes him oddly excited, brows raising in mild surprise, and you honestly should’ve known better. it’s like you’re offering up a new challenge to him, and he gladly accepts.
oliver still hates neckties; that’s an opinion that will never change. he still looks forward to the second he gets to pull it off. except now, he gets to play a little game with you while he does it.
yukimiya kenyu keeps a hand on your back at all times, in public.
it’s a habit formed purely from the fact that the streets of shibuya have the tendency to become really crowded, and yukimiya hates it when you get separated from him in such a crowd. he likes it when you’re right by his side— he can keep a close eye on you at all times and protect you from getting pushed around. and originally, it started off with holding your hands. it was fine during the colder seasons, providing the two of you with extra warmth. but you had both quickly realized that it could become quite uncomfortable during summer, making your hands all sweaty and sticky.
so he experimented. he let his arm drop from your shoulders to the small of your back, his palm hovering over your skin, initially unsure of how you would react.
“is this okay?” he would lean down to whisper in your ear, and his voice was so gentle and so concerned about you. even when he was the one getting shoved around by the crowd, with people constantly running into the sides of his shoulders, he was still only thinking about you. you and your comfort. “tell me if this is uncomfortable, and i’ll figure something else out. okay?”
it made you shiver— you felt a heat crawl up your spine, and your stomach was immediately fluttering with butterflies.
you nod, “no, this is okay.” more than okay, actually, but you keep that to yourself. “thank you for asking.” he flashes you one of his pretty smiles, and he leans up to look straight ahead in the crowd again. but this time, his touch is more present— his palm is now firmly planted onto your skin, and he’s actively weaving you through the crowded streets.
whenever someone would get too close to you, or if he anticipates that someone is about to crash into you, his hand would travel to the side of your waist. and yukimiya grips on it, pulling your body flush against his side, effectively pulling you out of the way. “sorry,” he’ll whisper an apology, not having intended to hold you so tightly. his hands will go right back to where they initially were, not without trailing his fingers on the way back, leaving sparks tingling across your skin where he touched. “did i hurt you?”
“no, i’m fine,” you can keep your hand there, you almost tell him. it drives you insane that everything he does is unintentional— but maybe, one day, you'll be able to tell him exactly what you’re thinking.
He's been flirting with you for weeks... but you don't know German.
Warnings: Fluff; NOT PROOFREAD!!!
[Lost in Translation Series]
You weren’t supposed to talk to him.
That was the one rule you gave yourself when you started interning for Bastard München’s media department: don’t get distracted by the players.
They were larger-than-life athletes, practically demigods. You were a glorified assistant with a clipboard and a very temperamental laptop. You had no business even looking in Michael Kaiser’s direction.
And yet… there he was — golden-haired, star-eyed, and grinning at you like he’d just spotted his next favorite game.
You met him on your second day. You were lost — which was impressive, considering you were supposed to be taking photos of the training field. Somehow you’d wandered into the players’ hallway, clutching a camera you barely knew how to use.
He appeared out of nowhere, towel slung over one shoulder, droplets of water glinting on his neck.
“You’re new,” he said, voice smooth and lightly accented. “Willkommen in meinem Reich.” Welcome to my kingdom.
You froze. “I—uh—sorry?”
He smirked. “Ah, shy. I like that.”
You blinked, smiling awkwardly, because what else were you supposed to do?
“Ich bin Kaiser.” I am Kaiser.
“Oh! Right, yes. I know that,” you said, fumbling your camera strap. “You’re… the Kaiser.”
He laughed softly — the sound low, teasing, deliberate. “And you are?”
You gave your name, still uncertain why your pulse was doing gymnastics.
“Schöner Name,” he said. Beautiful name.
You smiled back, clueless. “Thank you?”
He grinned wider, clearly entertained. “Anytime, Liebling.” Darling.
And just like that, he walked away — leaving you in a state of mild confusion and completely unjustified butterflies.
You didn’t realize it then, but that was the first of many German phrases you’d pretend to understand.
Over the next week, Kaiser made it his mission to “accidentally” run into you.
Every morning, when you brought the cameras to the sidelines, he was there — stretching in the most dramatic possible way, his shirt conveniently riding up. He’d call out,
“Guten Morgen, wunderschön!” Good morning, beautiful!
You’d smile and wave. “Morning, Kaiser!”
He’d wink. “Ah, you say my name so nicely.”
You had no idea he’d just called you “beautiful.”
Sometimes, he’d show up behind you while you were typing reports in the lounge. His voice would dip low, practically brushing your ear.
“Du hast keine Ahnung, was du mit mir machst,” he’d murmur. You have no idea what you're doing to me.
He’d chuckle, walk away, and leave you flustered for the rest of the day.
You figured he was being friendly.
He figured you were teasing him.
It was the start of a very confusing game.
Somewhere in between, poor Ness developed eye twitches.
Ness, meanwhile, was watching this slow-motion disaster unfold like a soap opera.
He tried to warn Kaiser once.
“Uh, Kaiser, I don’t think they—”
“Shh, Ness. They’re just playing hard to get.”
“No, I think they literally don’t underst—”
“Hard. To. Get.”
By week three, Kaiser was half-mad with frustration. You always smiled politely, always responded vaguely, always looked so calm — as if his best lines bounced right off you.
He was the emperor, the crown jewel of Bastard München — and yet here he was, losing sleep over someone who didn’t even blush when he said, “Ich will dich.” I want you.
It happened one afternoon when you were filming practice. Ness wandered over, looking slightly nervous.
“Uh, hey,” he said, scratching his head. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure?”
“Do you… speak German?”
You shook your head. “Not even a little. Why?”
Ness sighed like he’d just witnessed a car crash in slow motion. “Kaiser’s been flirting with you nonstop. In German.”
Your brain stalled. “...He’s what?”
“Yeah.” Ness looked genuinely pained. “He thinks you’re ignoring him on purpose. Says you’re playing hard to get.”
You stared at him. “I’ve been saying ‘totally’ to flirting?”
“Oh my god.” You buried your face in your hands. “What do I do?”
“Tell him?”
But before you could, Kaiser appeared behind you, hair shimmering in the sunlight, smirk already loaded like a weapon.
“Na, Engel? Verpasst du mich schon?” Well, angel? Are you missing me already?
You panicked. “Totally!”
Ness groaned audibly and walked away.
From that day onward, things somehow got worse.
Kaiser became bolder — leaning closer, standing behind you during interviews, dropping German lines that sounded like the verbal equivalent of winking.
“Du bist der schönste Fehler, den ich je gemacht habe.” You are the most beautiful mistake I have ever made.
“Ich schwöre, du machst mich wahnsinnig.” I swear, you're driving me crazy.
You’d nod politely, smiling like you were on autopilot, while your brain silently screamed: Why does he sound angry and romantic at the same time?
He started showing off more during training too — every goal followed by a quick glance in your direction, every smirk clearly asking, Are you watching?
And honestly, you were. Who wouldn’t? The man moved like art — all precision and arrogance and glow.
But then he’d ruin it by blowing you a kiss mid-goal and shouting, “Das war für dich!” That was for you.
You clapped awkwardly. “Yay… goal!”
He grinned. You died inside.
One late afternoon, you were sent to drop off photo files in the media office — conveniently located next to the locker rooms.
You were almost done when you heard a familiar voice.
“Da bist du ja, mein Glücksbringer.” There you are, my lucky charm!
You jumped. Kaiser leaned against the doorway, still in his training gear, sweat-slick hair and that impossible grin.
“Kaiser! You scared me.”
“Du magst es, wenn ich auftauche, gib’s zu.” You like it when I show up, admit it.
You blinked. “Uh… yes?”
He stepped closer, towel draped loosely around his neck, eyes sparkling like trouble.
“You really like saying yes, don’t you?” he teased, switching to English now, voice dripping amusement.
You blushed, unsure whether to laugh or run. “You say a lot of things I don’t understand.”
“Good,” he said. “Mystery keeps the spark alive.”
You muttered, “It’s keeping me confused, that’s for sure.”
He tilted his head. “What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Hmm.” He smirked again. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”
“I literally just deliver footage.”
“Exactly,” he said, and walked away.
You stared after him, completely baffled — and slightly more doomed than before.
It became a bizarre routine.
Kaiser flirted. You nodded.
He smirked. You smiled politely.
Somewhere, Ness developed migraines
Sometimes he’d whisper something that sounded scandalous:
“Du bist mein Lieblingsfehler.” You are my favorite mistake.
You’d beam, thinking he’d said something about the footage.
Or he’d murmur,
“Du raubst mir den Verstand.” You're driving me crazy!
You’d reply, “Thanks! You too!”
Each misunderstanding only made him more intrigued. He thought you were teasing; you thought he was eccentric.
It was chaos, but harmless — until he started trying harder.
Two weeks later, Kaiser snapped.
You didn’t know it, but he’d spent the entire morning grumbling to Ness about you.
“They ignore me. No one ignores me. They’re obsessed, secretly. Has to be.”
“Maybe they’re just—”
“Playing. Hard. To. Get.”
Ness sighed so hard it could’ve powered a wind turbine.
That afternoon, when you passed Kaiser in the hallway, he blocked your path.
“We need to talk.”
“Uh—about what?”
“About this—” He gestured vaguely between you. “Whatever game you’re playing.”
You blinked. “Game?”
“You pretend not to care, but you do. You always smile when I talk to you.”
“I’m… polite?”
“Polite,” he repeated, eyes narrowing. “That’s what you call it?”
He took a step closer, frustration flickering behind his grin. “Every time I compliment you, every time I flirt, you just smile and walk away. You’re driving me insane.”
You raised your hands defensively. “Wait, wait—back up. You’ve been flirting?”
“Obviously!”
You stared, mortified. “Kaiser, I don’t speak German.”
Silence.
Actual, stunned, pin-drop silence.
His eyes widened slightly. “You… don’t?”
You shook your head quickly. “Not a single word!”
Then came the slowest, most bewildered laugh you’d ever heard.
“No way.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “You’re telling me I’ve been pouring my heart out in German for weeks, and you just—nodded?”
You winced. “And said ‘totally,’ yeah.”
He doubled over laughing. “Oh, Scheiße! Ness was right!” Shit.
You covered your face. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?” he wheezed. “I told you you were the most beautiful mistake I’d ever made!”
You peeked through your fingers. “You what?!”
He laughed even harder. “And you said ‘totally!’”
You groaned. “I’m going to evaporate.”
When he finally stopped laughing, he leaned against the wall, smiling in that lazy, dazzling way that made you feel like the air had thinned.
“You really had no idea.”
“None,” you admitted, cheeks burning. “I thought you were just showing off your accent.”
“You thought this”—he gestured to himself—“was casual conversation?”
“I mean… it seemed very you.”
He chuckled, pushing off the wall. “You know, I should be angry. You ignored me for nearly a month.”
“You could’ve just switched to English!”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
You glared. “You’re impossible.”
He grinned. “And yet you keep talking to me.”
You rolled your eyes, but your lips betrayed you with a smile. “So what now, Your Majesty?”
“Now?” His voice dropped an octave, soft but teasing. “Now we start over. In a language we both understand.”
He insisted on walking you back to your workspace. You expected him to gloat, to make more jokes — but he was oddly gentle, tone quieter.
“You really didn’t know what I was saying?”
“Not a clue.”
“And you still smiled.”
“Because you seemed nice,” you said honestly. “A little dramatic, maybe, but… nice.”
He laughed softly. “That might be the first time anyone’s called me that.”
You shrugged. “Then you should hear it more often.”
Something flickered in his eyes then — the showman dimmed for a heartbeat, replaced by something almost shy.
“You’re… different,” he said simply. “Most people either worship me or hate me.”
“I didn’t understand you enough to do either.”
He laughed again, this time with real warmth. “Maybe that’s why I like you.”
You stumbled over your words. “You—what?”
“See?” He smirked again, confidence returning. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say for weeks.”
The next day, he found you in the lounge with a notebook.
“If you won’t learn German, I’ll teach you,” he said, sitting beside you uninvited.
You sighed. “Is this another excuse to flirt?”
“Absolutely. Lesson one: Date. That means ‘date.’”
You snorted. “Wow. Tricky.”
“Lesson two: Küss mich.” Kiss me.
You narrowed your eyes. “And that means…?”
He smirked. “Ask me sometime after lesson ten.”
You threw a pillow at him. He caught it easily, laughing.
“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning back. “We’ll take it slow. I’ve got time.”
I've been giggling to myself like an idiot writing this, my mom started giving me sceptical looks.🤣
i hate mischaracterizing characters, so for anyone who wants these, here are some facts/implied info about characters:
isagi is a loner and often skips out on parties and social events. this is because of how shy and awkward he is around other people and loud environments. (light novel, implied in the manga)
it’s impossible for nagi to hate anyone. even if someone is constantly making him work hard or taking his phone and games away, he is always calm and a pacifist. (egoist bible, implied in the manga)
rin is extremely kind and emotional under his stoic and emo exterior. he gives foreign tourists extremely detailed directions and is implied to be a good captain. (light novel, implied in the manga)
rin is also academically stupid in everything other than english. this is because he’s dead set on being a soccer player and therefore sees no point in any class other than english. (light novel)
karasu loves anything he finds special. he thinks that even rin and isagi are mediocre even though their blue lock’s number one, but he had a childhood crush on the only person he found special, a girl named marissa. (egoist bible)
sae doesn’t realize that he’s rude or has any malicious intent when he’s being an asshole. he just says what’s on his mind, no matter how mean or blunt. it’s confirmed that he does have friends, so he’s probably not always like this. (egoist bible, manga)
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