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RODEO !

synopsis: blue lock men getting caught having sex with their partners

pairings: sae itoshi × reader, nagi seishiro × reader, rin itoshi × reader, isagi yoichi × reader, hyoma chigiri × reader, meguru bachira × reader

tags: NSFW . minors dni . mostly a crack fic . piv . fem!reader . pure filthy smut . blowjobs/pussyeating . getting caught . etc

w.c. 3.7k

a/n: no comments. anyway, this fic was requested by this ask here! ( @solalol you have the greatest mind ever<3)

Sae Itoshi — caught by shidou

sae had you pinned against the wall, cock buried deep inside you as he fucked you with rough, punishing strokes.

it had been far too long. the second he came home and saw you, he didn't waste a single second on words. he simply shoved your shorts down, freed his aching cock and sank into you in one brutal thrust.

now he was drilling into you hard, hips snapping forward with a steady, merciless rhythm that had your back sliding against the wall with every thrust.

"fuck...sae—" you moaned, legs locked tight around his waist. your nails dug into his shoulders as he drove deeper. "you're so deep...ahh!"

he growled against your neck, teeth scraping your skin. "been waiting weeks for this cunt," hus voice was low, strained with lust. "so fucking wet for me already."

one of his hands gripped your ass tighter, the other braced on the wall as he angled his hips and started hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. your moans grew louder, shameless, echoing in the small bedroom. the wet, filthy sound of his cock sliding in and out of you filled the air.

"gonna cum—sae..."

"then cum," he ordered, voice dark. let me feel you,"

he slammed into you harder, grinding against your clit on every deep thrust. the coil in your stomach snapped without warning. you cried out, walls clenching violently around his thick cock as your orgasm crashed through you. your whole body shook, thighs trembling around him while you moaned his name like a prayer.

sae kept fucking you through it, jaw clenched, eyes burning as he felt you pulsing and gushing around him. he was close, very close—but he was holding back, savoring the way your cunt squeezed him.

that's when suddenly the door swung open without a knock.

"oi, itoshi! you got any—" shidou's voice stopped dead.

ge stood there in the doorway, eyes widening before that wild, predatory grin spread across his face. he took in the scene: you pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around sae, his cock still buried inside your twitching pussy, your face flushed from your recent orgasm.

sae froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt. the sudden shock of being caught hit sae like a freight train.

"dude shit—!" he grunts through gritted teeth.

his hips jerked once, involuntarily. a groan tore from his throat as he came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside you while shidou watched shamelessly. sae's face dropped to your neck, biting down hard to muffle the sound as his cock pulsed again and again, emptying everything he had.

you whimpered at the feeling of him filling you up right in front of his roommate.

sae's breathing was ragged against your skin. his cock was still twitching inside you, sensitive and spent, as he slowly lifted his head.

"get the fuck out," he hissed, voice hoarse and dangerous.

shidou only smirked wider, tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. "you sure I cant a piece of that?"

"touch her and I'll kill you," sae said, holding you close to him.

shidou smirked, "fine. i'll just touch you then."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ you said you liked it

itoshi sae x reader

warnings. established relationship, fluff (like... a lot), sae pretending he is not painfully attentive ♡

word count. ~3.4k.

every time sae returns from spain, he brings you something small. it takes you far too long to understand that none of the gifts are as thoughtless as he pretends they are.

── .✦

The first gift Sae brings you from Spain is a bookmark.

It is thin and painted by hand, a trail of deep blue flowers curling around its edges while a narrow red ribbon hangs from the bottom. Pretty, certainly, but not particularly remarkable. The sort of thing displayed beside postcards and magnets in a quiet shop intended for tourists with a few coins left to spend before their flights.

Sae places it on the table between you without explanation.

You look down at it.

Then back at him.

“What’s this?”

“A bookmark.”

“I can see that.”

He lifts his glass, entirely unaffected by your stare. “Then why did you ask?”

You narrow your eyes, though the smile threatening your mouth ruins whatever irritation you were attempting to convey.

“I meant why are you giving it to me?”

Sae takes a slow drink before answering.

“You dog-ear your pages.”

There is enough judgment in his voice to make it sound like a personal failing.

You glance at the bookmark again.

“You bought this because you don’t like the way I mark my pages?”

“You’re ruining them.”

“They’re my books.”

“You’re still ruining them.”

You laugh, tracing one fingertip over the painted flowers. The blue is slightly uneven in places, small imperfections revealing where the brush must have paused against the wood.

“You could’ve just told me to buy one.”

“I have.”

“You complained. That’s different.”

“It clearly wasn’t effective.”

Sae leans back in his chair, conversation apparently finished.

You smile despite yourself and slip the bookmark carefully inside the novel waiting in your bag.

“Thank you.”

His eyes flick toward your hands for a moment.

Then away.

“Hm.”

You think little of it at the time.

Sae travels constantly. Training camps, matches, obligations you do not always understand and events he rarely seems interested in attending. Airports and hotel rooms have become ordinary pieces of his life, distances measured in fixtures rather than weeks.

The bookmark feels like an impulse purchase—a small object he spotted beside a register that happened to remind him of your terrible reading habits.

Then comes the second gift: a box of tea from Spain.

You are waiting in his apartment when he returns, curled into one corner of the couch with a blanket covering your legs. His flight landed late enough that you had almost fallen asleep twice, but the sound of his key turning in the lock has you sitting upright immediately.

Sae steps inside with one hand wrapped around the handle of his suitcase.

He looks tired.

Not obviously. Sae rarely permits anything to appear obvious. But there is a faint heaviness beneath his eyes, a stiffness in his shoulders that only becomes visible after you have spent long enough learning the difference between his indifference and his exhaustion.

“You’re still awake,” he says.

“You told me you’d be here at eleven.”

“It’s eleven thirty.”

“Exactly. You’re late.”

“The plane was delayed.”

You rise from the couch and move toward him, wrapping your arms around his waist before he can say anything else.

For a moment, Sae remains still.

Then his hand settles against the back of your head.

“You missed me,” he observes.

“No.”

“Right.”

His palm slides slowly down your hair, lingering before he steps away to remove his jacket.

You watch him open his suitcase.

“You’re unpacking now?”

“I need something.”

From between neatly folded clothes, he removes a small paper package and holds it toward you.

You blink.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

Inside is a box of loose-leaf tea, the label printed in Spanish and decorated with tiny illustrations of oranges.

You lift the lid and breathe in. The scent is warm and sweet, citrus softened beneath something floral.

“It smells amazing.”

“You complained the tea here tastes like hot water.”

You look at him.

“That was months ago.”

Sae shrugs and begins closing his suitcase.

You remain kneeling beside it, the box held carefully in both hands.

“You remembered that?”

“You complained for twenty minutes.”

“It was terrible tea.”

“I remember.”

His tone remains flat, but there is the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

The third gift is a pair of earrings.

Small golden stars, delicate enough to catch the light whenever you turn your head.

He leaves them beside the bathroom sink while you are getting ready, the box appearing between your makeup and his irritatingly limited collection of skincare as though it has always belonged there.

You find it while searching for your lip balm.

“Sae?”

He appears in the doorway, already dressed for dinner.

“What?”

You hold up the box.

His gaze drops toward it. “They’re earrings.”

“Thank you, I was struggling with that.”

“You asked.”

“I’m asking why they’re here.”

“They’re yours.”

You turn one of the tiny stars beneath the light.

They are exactly the sort you would choose for yourself—simple, warm-toned, understated enough for everyday wear. You cannot imagine Sae wandering willingly through a jewelry shop, much less studying displays long enough to decide which pair would suit you.

“How did you even pick these?”

Sae’s expression suggests the question is ridiculous.

“You showed me a pair like them.”

“When?”

He adjusts the cuff of his sleeve. “You were looking at them online.”

Your hand stills.

That had been weeks ago. You had been lying beside him, mindlessly scrolling, and paused on a photo for no more than a few seconds before deciding you did not need them.

You are not even certain you spoke aloud.

“You saw that?”

“You had the brightness all the way up.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It was annoying.”

You stare at him.

Sae stares back.

Then his eyes drop briefly toward the earrings.

“Are you wearing them or not?”

The impatience in his voice fails to conceal the way he waits for your answer.

You smile.

“Help me put them on?”

“No.”

“Sae.”

“You have hands.”

“Please?”

He exhales, long and quiet, as though you have asked him to perform something unbearably difficult.

Still, he approaches.

You turn your back to him and move your hair aside. Sae’s fingers brush the curve of your ear as he fastens the first earring, his touch unexpectedly careful. The cool metal settles against your skin.

“You’re very good at this,” you murmur.

“Be quiet.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“No.”

“Then how—”

“Hold still.”

You do, though mostly because his fingertips have moved beneath your hair, smoothing it back into place with an intimacy that leaves warmth spreading slowly through your chest.

When he finishes, you turn toward the mirror.

The stars catch the bathroom light.

You look at Sae’s reflection.

He is already watching you.

“They’re perfect,” you say softly.

“I know.”

Of course that is his answer.

The gifts continue.

By the fourth gift—a small bottle of perfume—you begin to wonder whether any of his choices are truly spontaneous.

The fifth is a ceramic dish painted with lemons, chosen because your rings are always scattered across his apartment.

The sixth gift is a wool scarf in the exact shade you once admired through a shop window.

The seventh is chocolate from a place you had mentioned seeing online.

The eighth gift is a pen, bought because yours ran out during one of your calls and you spent five minutes searching for another while Sae listened in silence from Madrid.

Each time, he offers the same simple explanation.

“You said you wanted one.”

“You said you liked it.”

“You needed it.”

As though these are reasons enough.

Perhaps, to Sae, they are.

It takes you longer than it should to notice the pattern.

You are cleaning your room one afternoon when you find the first bookmark tucked inside an old novel. The blue flowers are slightly faded now, the red ribbon fraying near the end from months of use.

You place it on the bed.

Then, almost without thinking, you begin gathering the others.

The earrings from the small dish on your dresser.

The scarf folded over your chair.

The perfume beside the mirror.

The tea, nearly finished, in the kitchen cupboard.

A collection of small, ordinary objects arranged across your blanket, each one connected to a moment you had long since forgotten.

A complaint made beneath your breath.

A screen paused for a few seconds.

A passing comment that had felt too insignificant to carry beyond the conversation in which it appeared.

Sae had carried every one of them across countries.

You are still sitting among the gifts when he arrives.

He stops in the doorway to your room.

His eyes move from you to the objects scattered across the bed.

“What are you doing?”

You lift the bookmark.

“You remembered all of these.”

Sae leans against the doorframe, expression unreadable. “They’re things I bought you.”

“No.” You look down at the gifts. “You remembered everything I said.”

A faint crease appears between his brows, as though he cannot understand why this surprises you.

“You talk a lot.”

You laugh once, though the sound comes out softer than intended.

“I don’t talk that much.”

“You do.”

“And you listen?”

Sae’s gaze settles on your face.

For a moment, the room becomes very still.

He could tease you. He could look away, offer some dismissive answer and leave you to interpret everything yourself. That is what you expect from him—the careful avoidance he uses whenever a conversation threatens to become too openly sentimental.

Instead, Sae pushes away from the doorway and walks toward you.

He stops between your knees.

“You’re my partner,” he says simply.

Your fingers tighten around the bookmark.

“So?”

“So I listen.”

The answer is delivered with such calm certainty that your chest aches.

Sae looks down at the collection on the bed.

“You didn’t need to take everything out.”

“I was having a moment.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“You brought me souvenirs from another country because I complained about tea.”

“It was bad tea.”

Your laugh breaks free before you can stop it.

Sae’s hand settles against your cheek, his thumb moving once beneath your eye. His expression remains composed, but there is something gentler behind it now, something he does not seem particularly interested in hiding.

“You really don’t think this is romantic?” you ask.

“No.”

“You remembered earrings I looked at for five seconds.”

“They suited you.”

“And the scarf?”

“You were cold.”

“The perfume?”

“You liked it.”

You smile up at him.

Sae’s eyes narrow slightly, already suspicious of the expression.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Looking at me like I said something impressive.”

“You did.”

“I bought you things.”

“You noticed me.”

The words quiet him.

His hand remains against your face.

There it is, you think—the reason the gifts never felt grand to him. Sae does not understand attention as an extraordinary act. He watches you because you are there. He remembers because your words matter to him. The little details you dismiss as meaningless settle somewhere inside him and remain there until he finds them again in shops, airports, and unfamiliar streets thousands of miles away.

To him, it is not romance.

It is simply loving you.

You turn your face and kiss the center of his palm.

Sae becomes very still.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He studies you for another second before bending down. His lips brush your forehead first, then the corner of your mouth.

“You’re welcome, mi amor.”

Your smile widens.

He notices immediately.

“Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him closer, your cheek resting against his stomach.

Sae sighs, but his fingers slide into your hair, gently combing through the strands.

After a quiet moment, his gaze shifts toward the gifts spread across the bed.

“You’re missing one.”

You lift your head.

“What?”

He reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and removes a small velvet box.

Your arms slowly loosen from around his waist.

“Sae.”

“What?”

You stare at the box resting in his palm. It is too small to contain anything harmless, and Sae’s complete lack of concern only makes your heart beat harder.

“You just got here.”

“And?”

“You already bought me something else?”

Instead of answering, he holds it toward you.

You take the box carefully, suddenly aware of how warm your hands have become. Sae watches in silence as you lift the lid.

Inside is a ring.

The ninth gift—and somehow, the one that makes every other object spread across your bed feel like a trail leading to this moment.

It is delicate, made of thin gold with a tiny teal stone set into the center—not extravagant, but elegant in that quiet, understated way Sae seems to understand suits you better than anything overly ornate. The stone catches the light when you tilt the box, flashing the same deep shade as his eyes.

For a moment, you can only stare.

“Sae…”

“You said you liked it.”

Your gaze snaps toward him. “When?”

“A few months ago.”

You search your memory until a blurred afternoon begins to return: the two of you walking past a jewelry shop, your steps slowing briefly in front of the window. You had pointed toward one of the rings inside and said it was beautiful before continuing down the street.

You had not thought about it again.

Apparently, Sae had.

“I didn’t even say I wanted it.”

“You kept looking at it.”

“For maybe ten seconds.”

“Long enough.”

The answer comes so easily that your chest aches all over again.

You remove the ring from its cushion, but before you can put it on, Sae takes it gently from your fingers.

“Give me your left hand.”

You stare at him.

Sae holds the ring between two fingers, his expression as composed as ever, as though he has not just taken the entire evening and tilted it quietly off its axis.

“Sae.”

His eyebrow lifts.

“Are you going to make this difficult?”

“You’re holding a ring and asking for my left hand.” Your voice comes out thinner than you intended. “I think I’m allowed to have a moment.”

“You’ve been having one for the past five minutes.”

Your mouth falls open, but the reply never comes.

Because he said left hand.

Not your right. Not whichever one happened to be closest.

Your left.

The realization settles slowly, warmth spreading through your chest until you can hear your own heartbeat beneath the silence of the room.

You look down at the ring again, at the delicate gold band and the small teal stone catching the light between his fingers.

Then back at him.

“Sae,” you say carefully, “is this a proposal?”

He watches you for a moment.

“Yes.”

The single word steals the air from your lungs.

There is no teasing in his expression now, no trace of the faint amusement he usually wears whenever he manages to fluster you. His gaze remains steady on yours, quiet and certain in a way that makes the small velvet box in your hands suddenly feel much heavier.

“You’re proposing to me?”

“I just said I was.”

“That isn’t...” You stop, pressing your lips together as a nervous laugh threatens to escape. “You can’t just hand me a ring and expect me to understand what’s happening.”

“I asked for your hand.”

“That is not the same thing as asking me to marry you!”

Sae exhales softly through his nose. For the first time, something almost uncertain passes beneath his composure—not hesitation, exactly, but the realization that perhaps this is one moment he cannot communicate through implication alone.

He lowers the ring slightly.

Then he steps closer.

“You want a speech?”

“I want to know why.”

His eyes narrow just a little. “You don’t know?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Of course you do.

Sae studies your face, and for one terrible second, you think he might refuse simply because you asked. Then his free hand rises to your cheek, his thumb resting just beneath your eye.

“I remember the things you say because they matter to me,” he begins. His voice is calm, stripped of any theatrical tenderness, but every word lands with deliberate weight. “I bring you things because I see them and think of you. I come back and expect you to be here. When you aren’t, the apartment feels wrong.”

Your breath catches.

Sae’s gaze does not leave yours.

"I don’t want you fitting into my life only when our schedules allow it.” His thumb moves once across your cheek. “I want you in all of it—when I leave, when I come back, wherever I end up playing.

The sting behind your eyes grows warmer.

Sae notices, naturally, but this time he does not interrupt.

“I bought the ring because you liked it,” he continues. “I measured one of yours because I intended to put it on you. And I’m asking because I want you to marry me.”

There it is.

Not wrapped in poetry. Not softened by promises too grand to trust.

Just Sae, offering you the truth as plainly as he understands it.

His fingers shift beneath your chin.

“So,” he says, voice quieter now, “marry me, mi amor.”

Your vision blurs.

Sae’s expression tightens immediately.

“Don’t cry before you answer.”

A laugh slips through the tears gathering in your eyes.

“You’re still bossing me around during your own proposal.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“I’m not avoiding it.”

“You haven’t answered.”

You reach for the front of his shirt, curling your fingers into the fabric as though you need something solid to steady yourself.

“Yes.”

Sae becomes completely still.

The smallest pause follows—barely there, but long enough for you to see the answer reach him beneath all that carefully maintained composure.

You smile through the warmth in your eyes.

“Yes, Sae. I’ll marry you.”

His shoulders loosen.

Only slightly.

But you see it.

Of course you do.

Sae takes your left hand, his touch unexpectedly careful as he slides the ring onto your finger. It settles perfectly at the base.

Of course it does.

You look down at it, watching the teal stone catch the light.

Then you look back at him.

“How did you know my size?”

“You leave your jewelry everywhere.”

“You measured one of my rings?”

“You make it sound more complicated than it was.”

“You secretly measured one of my rings, remembered something I looked at months ago, found it again, brought it home from Spain, and planned an entire proposal without telling me.”

“Yes.”

“And you still don’t think you’re romantic?”

“No.”

You laugh softly, though another tear escapes before you can stop it.

Sae brushes it away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry over a ring.”

“I’m not crying over the ring.”

“Then what?”

“You.”

That silences him.

You pull him closer by his shirt and kiss him before he can retreat behind another dry reply. His hand slides into your hair, holding you there as his mouth softens against yours.

The kiss is slow, warm with all the things Sae rarely says aloud.

When you finally part, your forehead remains pressed to his.

“You could have started with marry me,” you whisper.

“You would’ve interrupted.”

“I interrupted anyway.”

“I know.”

His eyes lower to the ring now resting on your hand. His thumb brushes lightly over the gold band, tracing the place where it circles your finger.

Then he brings your hand to his mouth and presses a kiss against your knuckles.

“You like it?”

You stare at him.

“You proposed to me, and you’re asking whether I like the ring?”

“You said you did.”

Months ago.

For no more than a few seconds.

You shake your head, smiling helplessly.

“I love it.”

Sae’s eyes lift to yours.

“The ring?”

“You.”

The faintest smile touches his mouth.

“Good.”

Then he kisses you again.

The ninth gift remains on your finger, distinct from every small object spread across the bed.

The others were things Sae carried home because he remembered what you liked, what you needed, and every passing thought you never expected him to keep.

But the ring is not merely something he has brought home to you.

It is his quiet way of asking you to make a home with him.

Sae has always listened.

This time, he asks—and waits for your answer.

I NEED A SAE ASDWQLOWERSFDKAJSDPQ.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #sae x you #itoshi sae #marriage proposal #fluff #blue lock imagines #blue lock drabbles #blue lock oneshots

rin wants to make out but hes too nonchalant!

rin was vibrating beside you on the couch, eyes flitting to you every now and then from his phone where he had been on the same app for the past half hour.

you had noticed him of course, how couldn’t you when he was literally staring at you with those big teal eyes like he was going to ask you if you had any games on your phone?

by the second hour, rin was batting his unfairly long lashes at you, almost pouting. you finally put your book down to look at him but he immediately looked away, pretending to focus on his phone.

“what is it?” you spoke up, “nothing.” he replied almost immediately. gosh, your nonchalant boyfriend. “you’ve been staring at me for the past hour, rin. ’fess up.”

his lower lip twitched but he still didn’t look at you. you internally sighed, “wanna make out?” you cocked your head to the side.

rin’s eyes widened momentarily before he began nodding slowly. a thick blush crept up his neck, spread through his cheeks and travelled all the way up to the tips of his ears.

you shook your head with a smile and grabbed onto the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

your boyfriend is so easy!

a/n: yess dumbass nonchalant rin

2025-2026 — @gravelocked ★ don’t copy/modify/translate/repost to other sites. also don’t feed my work to ai.

-ˋˏ᯽ giving sleepy sub!nagi a handjob ♡

Nagi Seishiro can be such a pillow princess. When he's all sleepy after soccer practice, he's too lazy to lift a finger - even to get himself off.

He'll be lazily humping himself against your leg, curled into your side, propped up on his elbow as he plays one of his mobile shooter games on his phone. His tongue is poking out in concentration, and every now and then he'll let out soft little noises when you shift and your thigh moves against him.

rin says he’s on a diet, but eats when you feed him

while you were walking to the studio for your pottery painting date, the heat was starting to get to you. "rin! rinnie! can we get a sundae? i'm craving something cold and sweet." you asked.

"alright, but only get one. i'm not going to eat." "okay!" after rin bought you a sundae, you continued your journey to the date 's destination. the red color on rin's face grew by the minute, and it didn't go unnoticed. "dude, are you alright? you're really red." "i'm not dude," he pouted. he was about to say something more but all he could focus on was the sundae you were holding. he couldn't. he shouldn't. he's not allowed to eat sweets. when you put a scoop of your sundae in front of his face, he didn't hesitate to put it in his mouth. when the cool dessert melts in his mouth, he felt a wave of calm throughout his whole body. "yummy?" you asked. "mhm, but not good. that will be the last time i'm letting myself have a cheat meal." he grumbled, mad that he let the temptations get to him.

it was not the last time he let himself have a cheat meal, because while he was very disciplined about his diet, he forgot to factor in one thing. you. "baby, i'm sorry but i can't eat this." he says, looking at the plate with a slice of pizza on it. "i'll get sluggish if i eat this before training."

"but i did all this work to cook it." you said sadly, trying to show him the effort you did to make the food. rin gives you a slight side eye. "you mean put it in the oven? it's frozen pizza." "ok, you caught me. who even has the time to make pizza from scratch an hour before your training starts." you confessed. it's true, who even has time to make food and then go training in an hour. traffic jams are no joke.

"it's okay. i'll just make something after training finishes." he replied. you grab the pizza by the dough and feed it to him. "say "ahh,' rinnie." he took one bite and chewed the food angrily. he wasn't angry at you, why would he ever get mad at you. it was this stupid pizza's fault, why did it have to be offered by his lover? it made it 100 times more appealing than it should have been.

"darling, i'm making the food from now on." he advised. "and it's not because you heated up box pizza. i just want to take care of our diets from now on. i will make it delicious, i promise." "alright, i trust you."

(he eats from your spoon of cheat food when you’re distracted)

just me talking: i lowkey found it cute when i was watching: try not to eat miraculuous ladybug foods... yeahhhhh.

steal or ai = no. bad. don't be evil

having second thoughts?

cw: toxic behaviour because yeaahh :)

𖥔 ݁ ˖ Big fan of the idea of them being obsessed after they reject you and suddenly their world is in shambles when you actually lose feelings.

You probably worked so hard, put so much time and effort into memorising your little speech: they mean the world to you and though you may not be perfect, you want to make them happy as can be! But instead of acceptance, your painstakingly crafted confession is torn down without a second glance.

Perhaps it was an accident and they were in a bad mood that day; perhaps you simply hadn’t caught their interest at that point; perhaps they genuinely got a kick out of seeing you follow them around like a desperate puppy.

Whatever the case, when you start pulling away, they immediately go on hyper alert wondering what they could do to win back your affection.

ISAGI goes into full-blown panic mode. How could he have fumbled that badly?! God, he’s so stupid!! Please, please, please say you’ll forgive him! He totally beats himself up over it, training to the absolute max (in the hopes you’ll notice and maybe tell him to take a break like you used to!), making sure he’s entirely at your service: bringing you water and snacks, always being the sweetest around you, refraining from cursing out anybody who dares look at you… He’s trying super hard, so won’t you come back to him? He just doesn’t know what to do without you. To his credit, Isagi is one of the more sane players to have this happen to. He knows if he pushes too hard you’ll just go further away so he’s extremely well behaved, at least until you let your guard down around him. He promises he’ll make it worth your while.

RIN is quite temperamental, he can admit that, so it really isn’t your fault that he in no uncertain terms told you to go away since you’re distracting him from his sports obligations (cause you just won’t leave his mind when he’s trying to concentrate. You evil darling!) Feeling crushed and on the cusp of tears, you leave, and Rin genuinely feels a guilt so intense it makes him feel sick to his stomach. He’s no better than that shitty Nii-chan of his, how could he do something like that to you? He has to make it up to you so then you’ll be happy, and in love with him, and won’t ever leave his side! It doesn’t show outwardly, but you’ll notice how people really start avoiding you whenever he’s around. His plan to earn your forgiveness is to merely get rid of all the lukewarm NPCs invading your life, ensuring he’s the only one you can talk to. You can’t get rid of him if no one else is around, right? Incredibly clingy, to the point of annoyance…

For HUGO, things are predestined from the start and nothing can change that. Whilst you weren’t hated by him, the famous ‘spark’ people say they experience when finding their fated partner was missing. Hugo is not one to refute the universe’s intentions, so he takes this as a sign he won’t ever find himself in love with you thus your efforts are a pointless endeavour. He isn’t outright awful to you, but neither is he reciprocating. Nevertheless, when you lose interest, his life suddenly feels more… empty. Why aren’t you there smiling at him like always? It feels like you’re going against your destiny to be with him- ah. So that’s what was bothering him. That’s alright then. He’ll just have to convince you that nobody else is right for you, that he’s your soulmate through and through. This means going on extensive monologues and spending all of his time with you, always touching you… Now, now. Don’t whine at him about personal space. He’s just making sure you’re following the right path, where it’s only him that lies at the end.

The title of worst when it comes to this might just have to go to KAISER. I can imagine him actually enjoying your tearful expression as he mocks and berates you for the umpteenth time this week, much to his own disgust. He’s some subhuman piece of shit, treating you like this… but he doesn’t hate it enough to stop apparently. However, this also makes him the most devastated when you pull away—just where do you think you’re going? You don’t love him anymore? Of course you don’t. Nobody does. He was lucky you put up with him for so long. Kaiser’s stuck in a void of rage and isolation for some time before finally coming to his senses. He’s got to prove that he’s worthy of your attention again. But it’s pretty off-putting when he suddenly goes from self absorbed and conceited to some suave, hopeless romantic. You’ll be completely at your wits end trying to figure out if he’s making fun of you again when he brings you gifts or calls you sickeningly sweet nicknames. However, Kaiser is still Kaiser at the end of the day, he’ll totally flip the switch if he catches you with someone else. Whatever he needs to do to get you to drop this nuisance, he’ll do it. Just… don’t leave him. His heart wouldn’t be able to handle it.

when you don't say 'i love you' back

how the blue lock boyfriends react when you don't say 'i love you' back

pairings: itoshi sae, mikage reo, bachira meguru x gn!reader | warnings: established relationship, fluff, lovesick boys

notes: hi this is my proof of life!! had reo's part on my draft and since i really wanted to write something for bllk i did for the others as well - also bachira debut, yay! hope he's not too ooc ♥ also thank you for 3k, love you all!

masterlist

Itoshi Sae

your stoic boyfriend was rarely ever fazed by anything. he was like a blank picture and the perfect representation of someone in control of every one of their emotions. it could get pretty annoying, actually, since you were a cheeky thing by nature and you wished your shenanigans would rattle him at least just once.

psych ward shidou x reader

you’re minding your business at the courtyard when a tan man with ombre hair approaches you.

“hey there, beautiful. my name’s ryusei.”

“shut the fuck up, i’m not here to make friends,” you say, flipping through another page in your book.

“oh yeah, i love ‘em feisty!” his pupils practically form into hearts as he takes a seat next to you, making you sigh heavily. “what are you in for, baby? hold on, lemme guess…” he holds up a finger as you stare at him, his eyes scanning you. “it can’t be an eating disorder ‘cause that ass is fat!” he points over at you, hooting like a maniac in an attempt to hype himself up.

“can you leave me alone, pink tips?” you scowl.

“oh, i got a pink tip for you, alright,” he smirks, nodding to himself proudly before you smack him with a book.

“nurse!” you yell out.

“you smacked me and you’re snitching?!” he says, looking at you with sad puppy dog eyes as the nurses pull you two apart.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ you said you liked it

itoshi sae x reader

warnings. established relationship, fluff (like... a lot), sae pretending he is not painfully attentive ♡

word count. ~3.4k.

every time sae returns from spain, he brings you something small. it takes you far too long to understand that none of the gifts are as thoughtless as he pretends they are.

── .✦

The first gift Sae brings you from Spain is a bookmark.

Sae places it on the table between you without explanation.

You look down at it.

Then back at him.

“What’s this?”

“A bookmark.”

“I can see that.”

He lifts his glass, entirely unaffected by your stare. “Then why did you ask?”

You narrow your eyes, though the smile threatening your mouth ruins whatever irritation you were attempting to convey.

“I meant why are you giving it to me?”

Sae takes a slow drink before answering.

“You dog-ear your pages.”

There is enough judgment in his voice to make it sound like a personal failing.

You glance at the bookmark again.

“You bought this because you don’t like the way I mark my pages?”

“You’re ruining them.”

“They’re my books.”

“You’re still ruining them.”

You laugh, tracing one fingertip over the painted flowers. The blue is slightly uneven in places, small imperfections revealing where the brush must have paused against the wood.

“You could’ve just told me to buy one.”

“I have.”

“You complained. That’s different.”

“It clearly wasn’t effective.”

Sae leans back in his chair, conversation apparently finished.

You smile despite yourself and slip the bookmark carefully inside the novel waiting in your bag.

“Thank you.”

His eyes flick toward your hands for a moment.

Then away.

“Hm.”

You think little of it at the time.

The bookmark feels like an impulse purchase—a small object he spotted beside a register that happened to remind him of your terrible reading habits.

Then comes the second gift: a box of tea from Spain.

Sae steps inside with one hand wrapped around the handle of his suitcase.

He looks tired.

“You’re still awake,” he says.

“You told me you’d be here at eleven.”

“It’s eleven thirty.”

“Exactly. You’re late.”

“The plane was delayed.”

You rise from the couch and move toward him, wrapping your arms around his waist before he can say anything else.

For a moment, Sae remains still.

Then his hand settles against the back of your head.

“You missed me,” he observes.

“No.”

“Right.”

His palm slides slowly down your hair, lingering before he steps away to remove his jacket.

You watch him open his suitcase.

“You’re unpacking now?”

“I need something.”

From between neatly folded clothes, he removes a small paper package and holds it toward you.

You blink.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

Inside is a box of loose-leaf tea, the label printed in Spanish and decorated with tiny illustrations of oranges.

You lift the lid and breathe in. The scent is warm and sweet, citrus softened beneath something floral.

“It smells amazing.”

“You complained the tea here tastes like hot water.”

You look at him.

“That was months ago.”

Sae shrugs and begins closing his suitcase.

You remain kneeling beside it, the box held carefully in both hands.

“You remembered that?”

“You complained for twenty minutes.”

“It was terrible tea.”

“I remember.”

His tone remains flat, but there is the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

The third gift is a pair of earrings.

Small golden stars, delicate enough to catch the light whenever you turn your head.

He leaves them beside the bathroom sink while you are getting ready, the box appearing between your makeup and his irritatingly limited collection of skincare as though it has always belonged there.

You find it while searching for your lip balm.

“Sae?”

He appears in the doorway, already dressed for dinner.

“What?”

You hold up the box.

His gaze drops toward it. “They’re earrings.”

“Thank you, I was struggling with that.”

“You asked.”

“I’m asking why they’re here.”

“They’re yours.”

You turn one of the tiny stars beneath the light.

“How did you even pick these?”

Sae’s expression suggests the question is ridiculous.

“You showed me a pair like them.”

“When?”

He adjusts the cuff of his sleeve. “You were looking at them online.”

Your hand stills.

That had been weeks ago. You had been lying beside him, mindlessly scrolling, and paused on a photo for no more than a few seconds before deciding you did not need them.

You are not even certain you spoke aloud.

“You saw that?”

“You had the brightness all the way up.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It was annoying.”

You stare at him.

Sae stares back.

Then his eyes drop briefly toward the earrings.

“Are you wearing them or not?”

The impatience in his voice fails to conceal the way he waits for your answer.

You smile.

“Help me put them on?”

“No.”

“Sae.”

“You have hands.”

“Please?”

He exhales, long and quiet, as though you have asked him to perform something unbearably difficult.

Still, he approaches.

“You’re very good at this,” you murmur.

“Be quiet.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“No.”

“Then how—”

“Hold still.”

You do, though mostly because his fingertips have moved beneath your hair, smoothing it back into place with an intimacy that leaves warmth spreading slowly through your chest.

When he finishes, you turn toward the mirror.

The stars catch the bathroom light.

You look at Sae’s reflection.

He is already watching you.

“They’re perfect,” you say softly.

“I know.”

Of course that is his answer.

The gifts continue.

By the fourth gift—a small bottle of perfume—you begin to wonder whether any of his choices are truly spontaneous.

The fifth is a ceramic dish painted with lemons, chosen because your rings are always scattered across his apartment.

The sixth gift is a wool scarf in the exact shade you once admired through a shop window.

The seventh is chocolate from a place you had mentioned seeing online.

The eighth gift is a pen, bought because yours ran out during one of your calls and you spent five minutes searching for another while Sae listened in silence from Madrid.

Each time, he offers the same simple explanation.

“You said you wanted one.”

“You said you liked it.”

“You needed it.”

As though these are reasons enough.

Perhaps, to Sae, they are.

It takes you longer than it should to notice the pattern.

You are cleaning your room one afternoon when you find the first bookmark tucked inside an old novel. The blue flowers are slightly faded now, the red ribbon fraying near the end from months of use.

You place it on the bed.

Then, almost without thinking, you begin gathering the others.

The earrings from the small dish on your dresser.

The scarf folded over your chair.

The perfume beside the mirror.

The tea, nearly finished, in the kitchen cupboard.

A collection of small, ordinary objects arranged across your blanket, each one connected to a moment you had long since forgotten.

A complaint made beneath your breath.

A screen paused for a few seconds.

A passing comment that had felt too insignificant to carry beyond the conversation in which it appeared.

Sae had carried every one of them across countries.

You are still sitting among the gifts when he arrives.

He stops in the doorway to your room.

His eyes move from you to the objects scattered across the bed.

“What are you doing?”

You lift the bookmark.

“You remembered all of these.”

Sae leans against the doorframe, expression unreadable. “They’re things I bought you.”

“No.” You look down at the gifts. “You remembered everything I said.”

A faint crease appears between his brows, as though he cannot understand why this surprises you.

“You talk a lot.”

You laugh once, though the sound comes out softer than intended.

“I don’t talk that much.”

“You do.”

“And you listen?”

Sae’s gaze settles on your face.

For a moment, the room becomes very still.

Instead, Sae pushes away from the doorway and walks toward you.

He stops between your knees.

“You’re my partner,” he says simply.

Your fingers tighten around the bookmark.

“So?”

“So I listen.”

The answer is delivered with such calm certainty that your chest aches.

Sae looks down at the collection on the bed.

“You didn’t need to take everything out.”

“I was having a moment.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“You brought me souvenirs from another country because I complained about tea.”

“It was bad tea.”

Your laugh breaks free before you can stop it.

“You really don’t think this is romantic?” you ask.

“No.”

“You remembered earrings I looked at for five seconds.”

“They suited you.”

“And the scarf?”

“You were cold.”

“The perfume?”

“You liked it.”

You smile up at him.

Sae’s eyes narrow slightly, already suspicious of the expression.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Looking at me like I said something impressive.”

“You did.”

“I bought you things.”

“You noticed me.”

The words quiet him.

His hand remains against your face.

To him, it is not romance.

It is simply loving you.

You turn your face and kiss the center of his palm.

Sae becomes very still.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He studies you for another second before bending down. His lips brush your forehead first, then the corner of your mouth.

“You’re welcome, mi amor.”

Your smile widens.

He notices immediately.

“Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him closer, your cheek resting against his stomach.

Sae sighs, but his fingers slide into your hair, gently combing through the strands.

After a quiet moment, his gaze shifts toward the gifts spread across the bed.

“You’re missing one.”

You lift your head.

“What?”

He reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and removes a small velvet box.

Your arms slowly loosen from around his waist.

“Sae.”

“What?”

You stare at the box resting in his palm. It is too small to contain anything harmless, and Sae’s complete lack of concern only makes your heart beat harder.

“You just got here.”

“And?”

“You already bought me something else?”

Instead of answering, he holds it toward you.

You take the box carefully, suddenly aware of how warm your hands have become. Sae watches in silence as you lift the lid.

Inside is a ring.

The ninth gift—and somehow, the one that makes every other object spread across your bed feel like a trail leading to this moment.

For a moment, you can only stare.

“Sae…”

“You said you liked it.”

Your gaze snaps toward him. “When?”

“A few months ago.”

You had not thought about it again.

Apparently, Sae had.

“I didn’t even say I wanted it.”

“You kept looking at it.”

“For maybe ten seconds.”

“Long enough.”

The answer comes so easily that your chest aches all over again.

You remove the ring from its cushion, but before you can put it on, Sae takes it gently from your fingers.

“Give me your left hand.”

You stare at him.

Sae holds the ring between two fingers, his expression as composed as ever, as though he has not just taken the entire evening and tilted it quietly off its axis.

“Sae.”

His eyebrow lifts.

“Are you going to make this difficult?”

“You’re holding a ring and asking for my left hand.” Your voice comes out thinner than you intended. “I think I’m allowed to have a moment.”

“You’ve been having one for the past five minutes.”

Your mouth falls open, but the reply never comes.

Because he said left hand.

Not your right. Not whichever one happened to be closest.

Your left.

The realization settles slowly, warmth spreading through your chest until you can hear your own heartbeat beneath the silence of the room.

You look down at the ring again, at the delicate gold band and the small teal stone catching the light between his fingers.

Then back at him.

“Sae,” you say carefully, “is this a proposal?”

He watches you for a moment.

“Yes.”

The single word steals the air from your lungs.

“You’re proposing to me?”

“I just said I was.”

“That isn’t...” You stop, pressing your lips together as a nervous laugh threatens to escape. “You can’t just hand me a ring and expect me to understand what’s happening.”

“I asked for your hand.”

“That is not the same thing as asking me to marry you!”

He lowers the ring slightly.

Then he steps closer.

“You want a speech?”

“I want to know why.”

His eyes narrow just a little. “You don’t know?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Of course you do.

Sae studies your face, and for one terrible second, you think he might refuse simply because you asked. Then his free hand rises to your cheek, his thumb resting just beneath your eye.

Your breath catches.

Sae’s gaze does not leave yours.

The sting behind your eyes grows warmer.

Sae notices, naturally, but this time he does not interrupt.

“I bought the ring because you liked it,” he continues. “I measured one of yours because I intended to put it on you. And I’m asking because I want you to marry me.”

There it is.

Not wrapped in poetry. Not softened by promises too grand to trust.

Just Sae, offering you the truth as plainly as he understands it.

His fingers shift beneath your chin.

“So,” he says, voice quieter now, “marry me, mi amor.”

Your vision blurs.

Sae’s expression tightens immediately.

“Don’t cry before you answer.”

A laugh slips through the tears gathering in your eyes.

“You’re still bossing me around during your own proposal.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“I’m not avoiding it.”

“You haven’t answered.”

You reach for the front of his shirt, curling your fingers into the fabric as though you need something solid to steady yourself.

“Yes.”

Sae becomes completely still.

The smallest pause follows—barely there, but long enough for you to see the answer reach him beneath all that carefully maintained composure.

You smile through the warmth in your eyes.

“Yes, Sae. I’ll marry you.”

His shoulders loosen.

Only slightly.

But you see it.

Of course you do.

Sae takes your left hand, his touch unexpectedly careful as he slides the ring onto your finger. It settles perfectly at the base.

Of course it does.

You look down at it, watching the teal stone catch the light.

Then you look back at him.

“How did you know my size?”

“You leave your jewelry everywhere.”

“You measured one of my rings?”

“You make it sound more complicated than it was.”

“You secretly measured one of my rings, remembered something I looked at months ago, found it again, brought it home from Spain, and planned an entire proposal without telling me.”

“Yes.”

“And you still don’t think you’re romantic?”

“No.”

You laugh softly, though another tear escapes before you can stop it.

Sae brushes it away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry over a ring.”

“I’m not crying over the ring.”

“Then what?”

“You.”

That silences him.

You pull him closer by his shirt and kiss him before he can retreat behind another dry reply. His hand slides into your hair, holding you there as his mouth softens against yours.

The kiss is slow, warm with all the things Sae rarely says aloud.

When you finally part, your forehead remains pressed to his.

“You could have started with marry me,” you whisper.

“You would’ve interrupted.”

“I interrupted anyway.”

“I know.”

His eyes lower to the ring now resting on your hand. His thumb brushes lightly over the gold band, tracing the place where it circles your finger.

Then he brings your hand to his mouth and presses a kiss against your knuckles.

“You like it?”

You stare at him.

“You proposed to me, and you’re asking whether I like the ring?”

“You said you did.”

Months ago.

For no more than a few seconds.

You shake your head, smiling helplessly.

“I love it.”

Sae’s eyes lift to yours.

“The ring?”

“You.”

The faintest smile touches his mouth.

“Good.”

Then he kisses you again.

The ninth gift remains on your finger, distinct from every small object spread across the bed.

The others were things Sae carried home because he remembered what you liked, what you needed, and every passing thought you never expected him to keep.

But the ring is not merely something he has brought home to you.

It is his quiet way of asking you to make a home with him.

Sae has always listened.

This time, he asks—and waits for your answer.

I NEED A SAE ASDWQLOWERSFDKAJSDPQ.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #sae x you #itoshi sae #marriage proposal #fluff #blue lock imagines #blue lock drabbles #blue lock oneshots

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