──── 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙥?
╰┈➤ blue lock guys don’t take frustration and vulnerability well, except when it’s late at night, and you’re the only thing that can ground them
⁺⋆.˚𐙚 starring characters: karasu tabito, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, ego jinpachi
୨ৎcw: nsfw, aged up characters!, fem reader, p in v, oral receiving f & m, shower sex, cunnilingus, praising, degradation, unprotected sex, thigh fucking, semi-public sex (?)
a/n: i've deadass been shitting fics out my ass lately and idk how much juice i got left LMFAO
"i'm outside" "i'm not doin' this over the phone..."
karasu tabito calls you with startling certainty. he talks as if he’d already decided that the conversation was happening in person and delegated that you open the door. his voice over the phone is flatter than usual, but controlled. poorly trying to conceal the irritation beneath his skin. he’s been thinking too much and hate that he can’t turn it off cleanly.
so when you open your door, he’s already there like he didn’t consider any other outcome. karasu doesn’t tell you what’s wrong immediately; he never does. he just simply stands in your presence, a consuming look infecting his features.
you see, karasu fears being…average. something neutral, replaceable, and mediocre; and blue lock is essentially the perfect breeding ground for daunting thoughts like those to squander anyone’s mentality.
when he finally decided to step into your space and quickly close your door behind him, he was already reaching for you, hands gripping your waist like it was only vital thing worth holding on to, his lips mere inches from yours, pleading in what could only be a wish for salvation.
“talk to me.”
you part your lips to ask a question of your own, but instantly get deflected.
“no—don’t think about asking me anythin’,” he says slowly, “i just—i just need to hear you talk to me.”
after hearing that? there isn’t really much going back and forth you can do, completely at his mercy, in between his thighs, bobbing your head up and down his length, sucking him with the hollow of your cheeks; every once in a while lifting your head, stroking him with your hand to praise him and tell him how good he’s doing for you, a simple acknowledgement of his worth.
you told him anything and everything to see that expression of utter relief and the credence he had in you on his face.
the sheer sound of your voice was enough to send him into a frenzy, moaning as he bucked his hips into you. and when you’d be quiet for too long? he’d start trying to pull you off his cock just to hear you praise him again.
"don't do that, keep talkin'" "say that again..." "...keep talkin' to me darlin’”
“don’t worry about it” “i said i’m fine” “just open the door, i’m already here…please”
mikage reo’s frustration doesn’t immediately become evident when he walks through the door. it was like something that rapidly began to accumulate the second he fell into your grounding embrace, frustration shaped by expectation. tonight, it’s nagi. it wasn’t really a conflict or distance but the quiet realization that they are not moving at the same pace anymore. that what used to feel effortless now requires chasing.
when he had remained in your arms for what felt like a lifetime, he was already exhausted from trying to hold everything in, and what he wanted was not advice, not correction, not a strategy, but you.
instead of trying to talk him through it, oblivious, you offer him something much simpler: a shower. although, it might seem fruitless given his current state, it could prove to be a soothing break from holding everything together.
and when the suggestion comes, for a brief moment, reo doesn’t respond. he just looks at you.
then he moves slightly, just enough to lean back against the door frame that separates the hallway from your room. his expression doesn’t quite soften into relief, but the look he gave you was a raptorial one, lingering with an intensity that betrayed just how desperately he’d been looking for something to quiet his mind.
“as long as you come with me.”
and for the first time in a long time, reo stopped thinking.
the shower had become completely different the moment the water started falling. your hand prints visible against the fogged-up glass as he pressed you up against it; chill and heat crawled up the side of your face.
the sound of his hips driving into the flesh of your ass made an obscene, wet echo throughout the bathroom, bouncing off tile. he talks to you the whole time, palms gripping your hips as if you’d run away. his pleas are soft, persistent, and so deeply personal.
he doesn’t want to lose you: a perfect example of a constant in his life, and he makes it desperately apparent how much you and your sweet pussy mean to him.
"fuck—i love you so much" "you’re so warm" "you always make me feel so good" "let me hear you say it, sweetheart"
"m' outside" "hurry" "my legs are getting tired"
nagi seishiro barely lets things linger long enough to become a problem. if something is frustrating, he’ll usually walk away or play…video games; and without the proper motivation, something remotely too difficult can cause him to lose interest way before it has the chance to consume him.
until tonight. tonight? It follows him home.
he had gotten done with training hours ago, his body still feeling heavy in all the wrong places—and not the satisfying ache of overexertion. he was beginning to reach that point where motivation started to blur with obligation. everything had begun to feel louder than usual: the inevitability that talent won’t be enough forever.
so instead of lying awake with his phone lighting his room for hours, he found himself at your place.
the second you open the door, he doesn’t say hello. he saunters in like he owns the place, shoes coming off absentmindedly by the door, his bag slips from his shoulders, and he’s already looking around for some place comfortable way before you shut the door behind him.
“can we lay on the couch?”
“...sure?”
you found yourself idly combing the pale strands of hair, earning little more than a sleepy hum in response as he rested his head in between your legs.
“...is there anything i can do to make you feel better?” you ask.
for a moment, he didn’t answer; then, one eye cracked open as he moved his head only slightly to peer up at you through his fringe, expression lazy in the way only nagi could manage, lips pressed into the faintest hint of a smile.
“i know what you could do f’me.”
at least an hour had gone by, laying there on the couch with your legs spread open, your juices coating a sheen over your inner thighs. you strained to keep your legs propped open for him, trembling with each lap of nagi’s tongue to your overstimulated pussy.
“sei—it’s too much…” you moan, back arching off the cushions as he wrung yet another orgasm out of you; and he was fully content doing it too, devouring everything you had to give him. again and again until he was satisfied.
"mmm. stop moving" "you taste so good…" "so pretty" "one more f’me, please?"
"you’re not sleeping, i know you aren’t" "just open the door"
itoshi rin’s frustration doesn’t come out loud, not when he's pushing past you as soon as a sliver of opportunity presents itself to slip through the door. rin has…somewhat of a controlled way of holding his frustration at bay, but it’s really all dependent on the magnitude of his frustrations; and today he simply chose to ignore it, not acknowledging it until it started to affect everything else.
with him it’s always about competition, emulation, or surpassing the different versions of him that eventually shed off like reptilian skin. and the lingering thought that there is always someone just slightly above him (isagi).
but his frustration manifests as distraction, getting lost in the gilded cage of his mind. so it was unexpected when he abruptly turned to you, asking if you could watch a few horror movies with him; something intense enough to catch his attention, and with you by his side, all those frustrations would diminish. or so he thought.
you could usually toughen up when it comes to horror movies, but the scene in this particular movie was different—something more visceral than you’d ever seen, and it seemed like rin wasn’t expecting it either, given the tensing of his shoulders.
your shoulders simpy drew inward, a grimace shaping your lips way before you could even register that you were doing it.
“tch.”
rin sighed through his nose, and without a word, he shifted closer to you. a cool hand rose into your field of vision before settling over your eyes. he remained there less than a minute before uncovering your eyes. you blink, turning to look at him, and maybe give him a thank you, but your words fall apart on your tongue.
his face looked laden with affection and want, his gaze lingering on yours with naked, barely perceptible yearning.
“this…isn’t going to work…”
enough was said, really. he hovered above you now—not that you could see him, but you could feel him. his hand was covering your eyes once more, not risking the chance of you looking towards the screen and faltering. this mood was perfect for him, the perfect escape as he was inbetween your legs, fucking you with a savouring slowness into the cushions.
"…i needed this" "focus on me inside you" "it’s almost over baby, i promise"
"hey—sorry, are you awake?" "i know it’s late, are you busy?" "i just…need to see you"
there’s different levels to isagi yoichi’s frustration, and when he pops up at your door? he’s right in the middle of it, constantly thinking over the things he should’ve done vs. what he did do. everything that wasn’t quite optimal in his style of play was plaguing his mind for the worse—trying to develop new ways to evolve constantly.
and finally getting a moment with you is like the ultimate reprieve. but not in the way you think—at least not at the start.
he comes in and immediately embraces you, reeling back to start talking about all of the logic and adversaries that he had internalized in his head.
i keep going over the last match
there was a moment where i thought i could intercept earlier…but i hesitated
then everything shifted after that
all you could do was listen and shake your head. yoichi trails off in his flow of dialogue, clamming up as soon as you approach him. you settle one hand over his shoulder, while the other glides along his chest.
“yoichi…i think you should stop thinking about it and let me help.”
his mouth opens slightly, then closes again. his cheeks flush with a change of color at your proximity.
“i—” he couldn’t even speak. the way your hands were roaming his body had no right to be that distracting, so sensuous. then something dangerously tender filtered onto his face; as if he surrendered right then and there, his hands fell onto your waist.
without so much as a warning, your lips fall onto his, and he reciprocates immediately, like he’d die otherwise. he allows you to pull him into the depths of your bedroom like a siren luring in a helpless sailor.
the first thing isagi practically begged for was your thighs; using the arousal from your pussy to smear it all over your thighs for him to slide his aching cock between your plush skin and watch them engulf him through every thrust. his swollen head peeking through, flushed while it beaded with pre cum.
there was something in the way he looked at you, a quiet reverence as he voiced his appreciation for you in more ways than one.
"you look so good like this" "m’ almost done, okay?" "i promise i’ll give this pussy the attention it deserves"
"come to the office" "now" "don’t be too late…"
if you thought ego jinpachi would save you the trouble of having to travel all the way up to the blue lock facility, you were sadly mistaken. you would have to go to him.
ego’s office is always the same: holograms of player data, colossal screens that displayed a plethora of diagrams and metrics. and when you enter, he doesn’t turn around to greet you immediately, either.
ego doesn’t show his frustration. he tries not to display the weakness of emotional instability, simple as that. but right now, something was misaligned, a result that didn’t land the way it should have—variables that are acting inconsistently.
and when he calls you, it’s not some measly request of your presence; you were a prized distraction that he was willing to use, through and through.
so when he finally turns around in that chair, eyes lifting toward you like you’re the only thing worth his attention? only then do you let your body concede to the anticipation of ego completely ruining you to his expense.
he’s got you bent over the overwhelmingly large panel—with seemingly thousands of tiny little controls, panties pushed down to your ankles, wrists bound behind your back with his hand alone. ego fucks you hard and deep, enough to have your mouth gaped open and begging for him to slow down.
but unfortunately, ego is not that nice. his chest presses up against your back, his other hand flat on the panel, mere inches away from your face. he only chooses to be this close to your ear so that he can praise you in his own twisted way—the only way that seems right for someone like him as he fucked you from behind.
"slow down? do you really think i’d slow down for you?" "look at you, pathetic" "take it”