you'll never see it cumming ft. multiple blue lock men
・❥・what "unexpected" kinks do the blue lock men keep to themselves?
ft. sae, rin, kaiser, nagi, reo, isagi
itoshi sae
it's fair play to assume sae is a stone-cold dom who fucks like he plays, precise and efficient and completely without feeling. and whilst that's mostly true nobody sees the validation. the praise kink coming, specifically the way it's directed outward. he doesn't need to hear that he's good. he needs to hear that you are. he wants to watch you come apart while he tells you exactly how well you're taking him, and it's the closest thing to tenderness he lets himself have.
"good girl. just like that. you're doing so well." it comes out low and even, like he's narrating something clinical instead of fucking you senseless, but the words land differently coming from sae. he doesn't say anything he doesn't mean. when he calls you his good girl with his cock buried to the hilt and his thumb pressed flat against your clit, it hits like a reward you've been starving for without knowing it.
sae completely unravels if you run your fingers through his hair during sex. not pulling, not rough. just slow, gentle threading through those pink strands while he's stuffed between your thighs. the first time you did it without thinking, he went still for a full three seconds. then he pressed his face into your neck, hips stuttering and he ended up fucking you harder than he ever had before, without a single word of explanation.
he will never bring it up (god forbid his ego). if you mention it afterward he'll give you the most withering look in existence and leave the room. but the next time you're in bed together, his head will drift toward your hand automatically, like an orbit he can't help.
itoshi rin
rin's whole sex drive is built around eye contact. he cannot get off properly if you're looking away from him. it's not romantic, it's territorial. he wants to watch the exact moment your expression breaks, wants to see you go from composed to absolutely wrecked, wants that evidence pinned to him specifically. he will grip your jaw and tilt your face back toward his if you turn away.
"look at me." not a suggestion. never a suggestion with rin.
rin also has an obsession with your hands. the way they grip the sheets. the way they press against his chest when he's too deep. the way they shake when he's got you too close to the edge to think straight. he watches your hands like they're telling him everything you won't say out loud, and he'll pin them above your head not just to dominate you (that too though), but because he wants them where he can see them. he wants to know what your body is doing to cope with him.
if you scratch down his back he will make a feral sound. low and sharp and involuntary. it surprises him more than it surprises you, and he will absolutely punish you for it by slowing down to an agonising pace until you're begging and crying and promising things you're not sure you can actually deliver.
size fixation goes both ways with rin. he wants to feel how much bigger he is than you, wants to wrap his whole hand around your wrist and feel the overlap, wants to crowd you into a wall and notice how you have to tilt your head back just to see his face. but he also wants you to feel it. wants to hear you say it's too much. wants you gasping you're too big, rin, it's too much, i can't, because something feral in him responds to that confirmation.
"s'too much?" he'll ask, voice calm, jaw tight, hips not stopping. "you'll take it."
michael kaiser
this guy presents as the most obvious dom in any room he enters and that's exactly what he wants you to think. he is loud, he is dramatic, he loves performing power, and it's not a lie, he is dominant, but what you don't clock until you're actually in bed with him is the service kink buried underneath all of it.
he wants to wreck you so thoroughly that you are completely non-functional. that's the goal. your pleasure isn't a vehicle for his ego, it's the actual destination. he will spend 45 minutes between your thighs with his fingers and his mouth, cataloguing exactly what makes you sob, and he will look like he's winning a championship the entire time. chin wet. completely satisfied with himself in a way that has nothing to do with his own orgasm.
"you're close, aren't you, schatz. look at you. so desperate for it." smug as hell. when you finally cum he looks at you like he just scored a hat trick.
kaiser cannot handle silence. he needs noise, specifically your noise. moans, whimpers, broken little syllables of his name, even just the sound of you breathing too hard. if you go quiet while he's fucking you he will take it personally and do something about it immediately, angle differently, press his thumb somewhere devastating, lean down and talk filth directly into your ear just to pull a reaction out of you. silence feels like losing. he refuses to lose.
despite all the ego there's definitely an underlying praise kink. if you call him perfect at the right moment, if you look up at him with glossy eyes and say you feel so good, michael, you're perfect, something in his chest does something embarrassing and his thrusts go from controlled to desperate in about four seconds.
he will immediately do something to reset the power balance. but both of you definitely aint forgetting that.
seishiro nagi
nagi basically functions like a sleeper agent. you'll assume he's lazy in bed because he's lazy everywhere else. ironically bed is one of the few things in life that has managed to hold his genuine attention, and the calculation changes completely.
nagi has a breeding kink. not the performed, dirty-talk version. the quiet, unsettling, completely sincere version where he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and presses himself inside you slow and deep and tells you in that flat, half-asleep voice that you should stay just like this. something about the way he says it makes it clear he's not joking.
he doesn't dirty talk much but when he does it comes out calm and matter-of-fact in a way that is somehow ten times more devastating than if he'd shouted it. "you feel so good. want to stay inside you." said with the same energy as commenting on the weather.
he also has an oral fixation that extends to you specifically. he will put your fingers in his mouth, press his lips to your shoulder, the curve of your neck, the inside of your wrist. not aggressively, not biting hard, just, he likes having something in his mouth, and apparently that's you now. he'll suck lazy marks into your skin while you're trying to have a normal conversation and seem completely unbothered by your reaction.
during sex nagi goes slow and deep rather than fast. he grinds. slowly. absolutely maddening. and he watches your face with those heavy-lidded eyes like he has nowhere else to be and nowhere he'd rather look, and the combination of his total unhurried attention and how full you feel is enough to make your vision blur at the edges.
he will not stop until you've cum at least twice. not out of performance, not out of ego. purely because he finds your orgasms interesting and wants to keep watching them happen.
reo mikage
reo reads as soft and romantic and perfectly gentle, and he is genuinely all of those things, but underneath all the silk and decorum there is something that has been held tightly for too long, and the moment he's in private with someone he trusts, it needs to come loose.
reo responds to being edged like nothing else. if you bring him close and pull back, close and pull back, his composure cracks layer by layer in a way that is almost uncomfortable to witness. by the third time he's crying without meaning to, hands fisted in the sheets, his whole carefully constructed version of himself just gone.
"please." reo begging. reo, who has never needed anything in his material life, saying please with his face wet and his cock flushed and his whole body shaking. it does something irreversible to you.
reo loves scent. not in a strange way, in a completely obsessive territorial way. he wants to smell like you and he wants you to smell like him. he'll pull you against his chest after sex and press his face into your hair and just breathe, and if you're wearing a piece of his clothing he will short-circuit quietly in a way he is absolutely not equipped to put into words.
the caretaking runs both ways. he wants to take care of you, feed you, run your bath, wrap you in something warm. but he also crumbles if you take care of him. if you hold his face in your hands and tell him he's done enough, something that has been held very tightly for a very long time just lets go.
yoichi isagi
isagi's whole energy is earnest and trying-hard and slightly overwhelmed by his own feelings, and that carries into the bedroom in the most endearing and then immediately not-endearing way. he will look at you like you're a puzzle he is devoted to solving, and then solve it very, very thoroughly.
as we all know he has a thigh fixation and nobody quite clocks how specific it gets in practice. he will push your thighs together around his cock before he's even inside you and grind against the pressure with his eyes rolled back, one hand splayed across your hip to keep the angle, and the sounds he makes during this are the most embarrassing thing about him. entirely involuntary. no composure whatsoever.
if you're wearing shorts or a skirt he will lose track of what he was saying mid-sentence. he will put his hand on your thigh during completely non-sexual situations and have to excuse himself from the conversation.
isagi responds to being watched, not in a performative exhibitionist way, but specifically he wants you to watch his face. he wants to know you're paying attention to what he looks like when he lets go. he doesn't understand why this matters to him so much but if you cup his face in your hands while he's fucking you and just look at him, his thrusts go sloppy and his voice goes soft and he sounds genuinely wrecked in a way he never planned for.
"is it… does it feel…" he'll ask, halfway through, needing the verbal confirmation that this is good, that you're here, that he's doing well. that you see him.
and then there's the competitive edge, which ironically isnt that surprising. if he thinks you're not fully undone yet he will take it as a personal challenge. eyes sharp, jaw set, the same expression he gets when he's losing a match and decides he's going to fix it. he will not stop. whatever you need to get there, he is committed.
an: first multi character post ts was so hard but also kinda fun idk man. uhh yeah thats all i got. PLEASE FLOOD MY INBOX </3
it’s a normal day. you’re with your boyfriend, as usual, except he’s acting a little odd. not quite meeting your gaze, dark eyes staring at your lips.
“what’s wrong?” you look up from the ice cream he had offered you a minute ago. “something on my face?”
“yeah,” he murmurs. “i’ll get it for you.”
and you expected him to maybe wipe your cheek with a napkin, or his thumb. anything but for him to lick a drop of melted mint chocolate ice cream off the corner of your lip. you blink as his cold tongue runs over you, sending a shiver down your body.
wait, cold? but he didn’t eat any-
“hey!” you squeak. “what’re you-“
the audacity of him to smirk at you as he tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. flustered, you freeze, unsure of what he’s planning.
and then his lips meet yours and you gasp. the feeling was new: sharp, metallic, and utterly devastating.
he pulls back suddenly, breaking the kiss.
“wha…how?” you stutter. he sticks out his tongue at you. oh. you see it then, the silvery ball in between his tongue. the fucker got a tongue piercing behind your back.
“you like?” your boyfriend grins wide.
instead of answering, you kiss him again.
—ITOSHI RIN, itoshi sae, michael kaiser (bllk), gojo satoru, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ryomen sukuna (jjk), SASUKE UCHIHA, gaara (naruto), tartaglia, KAZUHA, wriothesley (genshin) + your favs!
inspired by this clip of ronaldo bc it genuinely cracks me up - cw: fem reader, suggestive
you're no stranger to your boyfriend kaiser showing you off. michael doesn’t generally even like people, let alone love them, so the fact that he’s dating you really is a big deal to him. sure, he’s not the perfect boyfriend. he can be mean and he can come off as somewhat uncaring sometimes, but you know he loves you terribly, utterly and completely. you know it, and his fans know too.
ever since you two went public, his instagram page has been filled to the brim with pictures of you, maybe even to the point of exhaustion. his tough-boy instagram dumps are suddenly softened by candids of you laughing softly, or pictures of you two together. he does it to show you that he loves you, and he chose you, and that fuuuuuck is he proud to date a pretty girl like you.
so his fans have learned to know and love you as he does, and you’ve grown accustomed to their little comments, to that tiny, far presence in your life. after all, it’s michael you really care about. and he’s absolutely nuts about you, even though he tries to act like he doesn’t care. (he’s scared of all the warm, soft feelings he feels for you - but he tries his best.)
this balance has been more or less there for a while now.
that is, until you wake up one morning with your phone absolutely drowning in notifications, people tagging you nonstop. the second you see this, your heart drops, because something really bad must’ve happened.
instead, the comments just look… nice? amused, even?
confused, you gaze at your sleeping boyfriend next to you. he looks like a little angel, those unfairly pretty lashes of his casting a shadow on his cheeks, lips ever so slightly parted as he’s still deep into slumber, his hair all over the place. you almost feel bad for waking him. still, it comes out of your mouth so naturally.
“mihya, what did you do?”
he tosses a bit, stirs half-awake with a groan of protest.
“nothing,”
he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, eyes still closed. his arm wraps around your waist, trying to pull you down, “just come back to sleep, bunny.”
but you don’t. and there it is, that one single video everybody keeps tagging you in. and it’s… just your boyfriend? speaking in an interview?
naturally, you play it. it’s a very short clip, and there he is, your handsome boyfriend sitting with his legs spread and his elbow on the armrest as he talks about the hat trick he scored.
“yeah, yeah,” he nods, “i think i did a great job. of course i did. it felt pretty fucking great.”
“i bet it did,” the interviewer nodded, “what do you think, was it better than sex?”
michael’s brows shoot up in surprise, as if the question has him genuinely taken aback - because it does. it probably seems to him oh so incredibly unthinkable to fathom anything being better than having sex with you. his pretty baby blues widen ever so slightly - nobody but you would probably catch it - and he frowns. then, he shakes his head, that shit-eating grin of his making its way on his face.
“absolutely not. not with my girl, no.” a beat. “my god…”
he sighs, long and hard, and he seems to slip away for a second, as if he’s picturing you in front of him - maybe all sprawled out for him, maybe on your knees, maybe in his lap, who knows - and he smiles. genuinely smiles, as if the thought of you makes him flustered, his tattooed hand coming to cover his mouth.
he mumbles your name once, then shakes his head, fortunately remembering that yes, he is still in the middle of an interview.
the clip ends.
the second it does, you turn to him. you try to look angry, but you actually are kinda flattered and a bit flustered, a light flush staining your cheeks. he’s fully awake now, eyes fluttering open to stare at you, and he gives you a tiny, amused smirk.
“michael kaiser.”
“what? it’s the truth.”
you sigh, shaking your head - except it’s very, very hard to act annoyed when he’s right there next to you, tangled in the sheets like a prince, now finally staring at you. he’s not in the middle of an interview, he doesn’t have to imagine anything. there you are. all his. his big hands reach for you, a softness in his fingertips that’s only reserved for you making you immediately melt when you feel the warmth of his digits graze the skin beneath your shirt.
needless to say, both your phone and your anger are quickly discarded, and michael can confirm once again that what he said in his interview is nothing but the truth.
@yamsfrecklvs ★ ash’s note: okay guys hear me out - before any of you calls the nickname bunny cringe i’ll have you know that ‘hase’ (lit. bunny) is a very popular nickname in german and it’s the only one that doesn’t make my skin crawl ?? i love liebling and schatz but i wanted something different okay?????? k bye
he didn’t really mean to take it out on you! through the whole car ride home, he had a deathly tight grip on the steering wheel, his veins looking like they were going to pop if his grip tightened anymore. you didn’t dare to open your mouth or speak to him the whole way, just avoiding his figure by looking out the window. all of a sudden the view was so lovely.. haha..
however, your peace was torn the moment you stepped into your shared apartment. he dropped his things onto the floor without any care and dragged you into the bedroom and pushed you onto the bed.
currently, you had your head pressed onto the pillow, back arched with a deep inward curve. tears slowly pooled and escaped from your tear ducts, burning up from the constant pain pleasure.
“a-ah, fuckk..” he moaned out in between his breaths. both of his hands were gripped on your hips so tightly that you were sure that they would leave marks on it. he kept you in place, occasionally slapping your ass, giving it a light squeeze when he felt like it.
his thrusts kept hitting the same damn spot. he closed his eyes, tilted his head upwards with his pace increasing. you made noises that were borderline-pornographic, surely going to get a complaint from your neighbour— but that was the least of your worries for now. he groaned, feeling you tighten around him.
“you’re so fuckin’ tight— bet you were waiting f’ me to lose that game so you could get a piece of this, stupid slut..” the bed creaked loudly with his thrusts hitting harder and deeper, chasing his own climax. you weren’t holding up well either. you wanted to come so badly. but you knew if you did, he wouldn’t let you rest until the next morning.
“baby please–!” your moans were muffled by the pillows against your face, but it was loud enough for him to hear. your body was trembling with overstimulation, clenching hard on him.
he groaned loudly in response. after another thrust, he swiftly pulled out all the way. you whined at the loss, the emptiness. you weren’t able to say anything fast enough as he flipped you over onto your back but due to the change in distance, he grabbed your legs and dragged you towards his dick. he place both your legs on his shoulders and without warning, he shoved his cock right back into you.
with the convenient position you were both in, he smashed his lips against yours. you wrap your arms around his neck as his tongue slipped into your mouth. it was only until you were out of breath did he break away. “just a little longer, hold it out f’ me baby.” he breathed out, his warm breath hitting your neck.
after pushing you with the same cruel pace, he finally reached his climax. spilling into you with the last couple of thrusts, filling you up with his warm release. you came nearly instantly after he did, your nails scratching his back deep enough for him to hiss lightly.
the both of you spent a few minutes catching your breaths. he had long let go of holding your legs in such a tight position, letting them rest while he laid face flat on your chest boobs. you felt your eyes falling shut, but before you could finally drift away into slumber, his words woke you up with a hint of mischief.
“already tired? i’m sure you could go for a few more rounds right?”
how it feels when you're reading a fic and a character you love is mischaracterized so horrendously to the point where it's not even them but everyone in the comments love it
