the blue lock boys who will only ever have one lover throughout their life…and the reasons why.
(a/n: this one can be cute but it can be just as humbling and cruel at the same time. i tried to be as realistically romantic as possible, remembering that the blue lock boys are still in the end, teenage boys)
⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦
the ones who have one lover simply because they’re loyal
isagi, yukimiya, kaiser
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ isagi - growing up with a loving family who loves him unconditionally, isagi is naturally someone who believes in monogamy and traditional dating values, such as loyalty. even if there is a hypothetical scenario where isagi falls out of love with his lover, he’ll still stay because he simply believes that it’s just “the right thing to do”. even if his lover breaks up with him, he’ll stay single because he doesn’t want the potential scenario where he falls back in love with his lover while dating someone else.
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ yukimiya - loyalty and good morals is something that yukimiya shows a lot of in the series, so naturally, it’s the same when it comes to romance with him. cheating on someone is a clear “no” for yukimiya—why would he date someone in the first place if he’s just going to cheat on them anyways? and if his lover ever cheats on him? well, he’ll be far too heartbroken and insecure to ever go on a date with someone else ever again. he’ll probably try getting his lover back though.
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ kaiser - i know, i know. kaiser, of all people, loyal? i think the biggest factor in this is his mother and also his constant needed desire for unconditional love. kaiser’s mother left him and his father, and kaiser is most definitely not wanting to follow in his mother’s footsteps. plus, kaiser canonically having studied psychology makes it clear that he probably knows that if he stays loyal to someone, that’ll make it easier to make them love him unconditionally. ultimately, kaiser’s sure as hell a red flag, but he’s not heartless.
⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦
the ones who have one lover because no one else wants them
bachira, nagi, hiori
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ bachira - i think we all know that bachira grew up pretty much alone. with such a lack of friends, the moment someone shows interest in him, he’ll latch onto them. it’s to the point where it gets unhealthy, as he’ll get into a nearly depressed state if someone he latches onto finds someone else, like his reaction when isagi and rin were ignoring him during the second selection. because of this, he’ll realize pretty damn quickly that if he wants someone else to be loyal to him, he’ll have to be just as devoted.
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ nagi - similar to bachira, he grew up with basically no friends until he met reo. although nagi doesn’t seem to care nearly as much, ever since meeting reo, he is much more attached. nagi is self aware that he’s not the most pleasant of the bunch, so similar to how he is with reo, if he meets someone who genuinely cares, he will latch onto them. sure, there will be times where he will leave for a little while; but in the end, he will always come crawling back to his lover because he knows that no one else would want him.
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ hiori - hiori is a weird one. a lot of people definitely have a crush on hiori; however, due to his childhood and the way that his parents treated him like more of a tool, hiori definitely just wants love—similar to kaiser. however, the biggest difference is that when hiori finds someone who loves him, he doesn’t realize that other people love him too. it very much matches the saying “love is blind” if you don’t understand what im saying. hiori is obsessed with the idea of being loved that he’ll do anything to help and stay loyal.
⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦
the ones who have one lover because they want no one else
reo, kunigami, barou
(a/n: remember kids, THESE are the MEN—not boys—who you should date)
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ reo - reo is someone where if he falls in love with someone, there is no one else in the world except for him and his lover. just looking at the way that reo acted when nagi left him for isagi says enough already on its own; reo didn’t try to find someone else to replace nagi—he tried getting nagi back and grieved. when reo falls in love, he truly wants no one else. even if someone goes on their knees and begs for reo to give someone else a chance, he’ll just reject them. in fact, reo will do anything for his lover to stay.
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ kunigami - walking green flag. growing up with younger sisters, he knows that being loyal and dating someone who he truly loves is extremely important. he always makes sure to not date someone or give someone who he doesn’t like the wrong idea because he doesn’t want to break their heart and make himself feel guilty. similar to reo, once kunigami falls in love, the world is just him and his lover. to him, falling in love is an eternal thing—something forever. and kunigami knows better than to take advantage of that.
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ barou - just like kunigami, barou always grew up with younger sisters who he took good care of. he understands to be a loyal man—that it’s important to treat someone who he loves in a devoted and loyal way. it’s rare for barou to fall in love because this man KNOWS his worth. he doesn’t want someone who will take advantage of him and his housewife ways; so barou falling in love is—like kunigami—a lifetime thing. he’s dedicated to whoever his lover is because…why shouldn’t he? if he fell in love, he won’t fall out of love.
includes. ꨄ︎ established relationship, NSFW for shidou's, ass talk in aiku’s, cursing, fluff, reader just messing with the bllk guys, mentions of violence, MENTIONS OF BUGS AND SPIDERS (yukki's)
notes. ꨄ︎ i know this is a bit of an odd lineup... anywho, i do apologize if i wrote ness wrong. it's been a bit since i last read the manga, and during the entire NEL arc, i was just a tad bit (very) focused on kaiser
♪ track. ꨄ︎ lover by taylor swift
ver 1. sae, kaiser, otoya, karasu, bachira, reo, nagi
end notes. ꨄ︎ creds to my wife (straightest woman i know) for coming up with yukki's. i was running out of creativity juice
𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 : reo mikage, nagi seishiro, karasu tabito, otoya eita, yo hiori, yukimiya kenyu, michael kaiser, alexis ness.
⭒ ‧₊˚ ⋅⭑‧₊˚ ⋅ ⭒
𓏵 GENRE : crack, suggestive, fluff(?)
𓏵 WARNINGS : no pronouns are used, drunken texts, swearing/cursing, suggestive on kaiser (I'm sorry), supernatural stuff is happening on ness, uhh otoya being cute idk, i hate this, lmk if there's more!
𓏵 SUMMARY : what the title said(mostly)
⤷ ゛A/N : i didn't want to post this one i hate it sm but whateverrrrˎˊ˗
PT 1 I PT 2
likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ! !
you had talked a lot of game. months of it, actually – whispered filth over late-night voice calls, typed-out paragraphs that made yukimiya laugh that low, breathy laugh, the one that crackled through the phone speaker and settled somewhere hot at the base of your spine. you’d described, in excruciating detail, exactly what you wanted to do to his stomach. the ridges. the grooves. how you’d straddle him and make a mess of that sculpted fucking torso while he watched you fall apart. you’d been so bold, so shameless, because back then it felt distant. a fantasy you could play with from the safety of your own bed, miles away, where the most dangerous thing was your own hand sneaking under the waistband of your shorts.
now you stood in his apartment, his actual, real-life apartment that smelled like expensive cologne and faintly of the green tea he brewed every morning, and your throat had gone completely dry.
yukimiya shut the door behind you with a soft click and leaned against it, arms crossed. no glasses for a change. he must have taken them off right before you arrived, left them on the console table beside a stack of fashion magazines. his eyes, that deep cognac brown, tracked you with the lazy confidence of someone who already knew exactly how this night was going to end.
“you’re quiet,” he said.
your laugh came out in a strangled little burst. “i’m just, um. taking in the decor.”
“right.” a smile played at the corner of his mouth. “the decor.”
he pushed off the door and walked past you, close enough that the sleeve of his knit sweater brushed your bare arm. every nerve ending in that patch of skin lit up like a fucking firework display. you followed him into the living room on legs that didn’t feel like your own, your mind already sprinting through every depraved thing you’d ever said to him. “you better not bring those up,” you thought desperately. please, god, let him have forgotten.
yukimiya turned, settled onto the low charcoal-gray sofa, and spread his arms along the backrest. the posture stretched the fabric of his sweater tight across his chest and – you could not stop staring – pulled the hem up just enough to reveal a sliver of his lower stomach. a pale strip of skin. the faint shadow of muscle definition that didn’t need flexing to be visible.
“you’ve been telling me for weeks what you’d do if you got me alone,” he said, and his voice dropped into something quieter, almost conversational. “so. we’re alone.”
your heart punched against your ribs. “i— yeah, i know i said stuff, but that was just, you know. joking. kind of.”
“joking.” he tilted his head. “really.”
“mostly joking. like, eighty percent.”
“hm.” he reached up and tugged at the collar of his sweater, a small, casual gesture that somehow made your stomach flip. “and the other twenty percent?”
you opened your mouth. nothing came out. the woman who’d typed i want to grind on those abs until i can’t think straight had apparently fled the premises, leaving behind a coward in a cute sundress who couldn’t even maintain eye contact.
yukimiya watched you squirm for another three seconds before he stood up. slow. deliberate. he crossed the space between you in two strides and stopped just shy of touching you, so close you could count the individual lashes framing his eyes, see the tiny scar near his left eyebrow that you’d never noticed in photos.
“i didn’t invite you over to watch a movie,” he murmured.
“you said we were gonna watch a movie.”
“i lied.”
his hands found the hem of his sweater and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it onto the armchair behind him. and then he was standing there, half-naked in the dim amber light of his living room, and your brain promptly short-circuited.
yukimiya kenyu’s body was a goddamn masterpiece and he knew it. his skin was pale but warm-toned, the kind of complexion that looked golden under soft lighting, and it stretched taut over a torso carved by years of athletic training. his chest was defined without being bulky, pectorals flat and firm with small, dusky-pink nipples that tightened as the cool air hit them. but it was his stomach that made your mouth water. the abdominal muscles were a precise, anatomical illustration come to life – a clean six-pack arrangement of hard-earned ridges, each one etched in sharp relief, separated by shallow grooves that seemed to beg for a fingertip, a tongue, something. the central linea alba cut a vertical line down the midline, disappearing into the low waistband of his dark jeans. below the navel, a thin trail of fine black hair started, barely-there but enough to be maddening, pointing downward like an invitation. the muscles flexed subtly with every breath he took, a living landscape of strength that you had spent countless nights imagining and yet it was so much better, so much more intimidating, in the flesh.
he smelled like cedar and something faintly citrusy, clean and masculine and utterly intoxicating at this range.
“you’re staring,” he said, amused.
“i’m not,” you lied.
“you’re practically drooling.”
you snapped your mouth shut. swallowed.
“okay, maybe a little.”
his laugh was a low rumble that did terrible, wonderful things to your insides. he stepped back and lowered himself onto the couch again, this time with his back against the cushions, legs spread slightly, a posture of relaxed power. his hands rested on his thighs, fingers relaxed. the waistband of his jeans sat low on his hips, revealing the sharp v-cut of his iliac furrow, that delicious diagonal swoop that made you want to trace it with your tongue all the way down to where the denim started.
“come here,” he said.
your feet moved before your brain could object. you stopped in front of him, knees almost brushing the edge of the couch cushion. he looked up at you, and the height difference– you standing, him seated – made the dynamic shift in a way that made your thighs clench together.
“take off your dress.”
the command hit you like a physical touch. your fingers twitched at your sides. “i— shouldn’t we, like, talk first? or—”
“we’ve talked. for months.” his eyes never left yours. “i’ve read every filthy thing you want to do to me. now i want to see you do it. so. dress. off.”
the bold alter-ego who existed exclusively in text messages was shrieking somewhere in the back of your mind, but the woman actually standing here, chest tight with nerves, could barely breathe. you reached for the zipper on the side of your sundress and fumbled with it twice before managing to drag it down. the fabric slipped off your shoulders, pooled at your feet. underneath, you wore a simple black bralette and matching panties, both lace-trimmed and embarrassingly modest for someone who had allegedly planned to rock this man’s world.
“cute,” he said, and the word warmed you from the inside out. “now those.”
your panties hit the floor before you could overthink it, and you kicked them aside. the bralette followed a second later. and then you were completely naked in front of yukimiya kenyu, your whole body flushing pink from your chest to your hairline. the air in the room felt ten degrees colder against your exposed skin, nipples tightening into hard peaks. your pussy – you were acutely, painfully aware – was already embarrassingly wet, a slick heat you could feel clinging to your inner thighs, and you hadn’t even touched him yet.
yukimiya looked at you. not the way you’d imagined, all hungry and feral. he looked at you with a kind of delighted fascination, like you were something precious and filthy all at once. his gaze traveled from your collarbones down to the swell of your breasts and the curve of your waist. he lingered there, on the place where your thighs met, and a small, satisfied sound hummed in his throat.
“get on top of me,” he said.
you hesitated, every ounce of your fake confidence having evaporated. “kenyu, i—”
“what happened to all that talk?” he lifted his hips just enough to undo the button of his jeans and lower the zipper, but he didn’t take them off. just created more room, more of that sharp v visible now, the skin smooth and taut over the prominent iliac crest. “weren’t you going to use my abs to get yourself off? weren’t you going to make a mess all over me and make me watch?”
your cunt clenched around nothing. you knew exactly what you’d said. word for word.
“i want to spread my pussy lips over those ridges and move until i soak every fucking groove, kenyu. i want to feel your muscles tense under my clit and come so hard you’ll have to wash me off your stomach.”
yeah. that. you’d written that.
and now he was quoting it back to you, voice calm and smooth as silk, while you stood naked and trembling and utterly, pathetically, played.
he reached up and pulled his glasses from the console table – when had he grabbed those? – and slid them on, a gesture so deliberately slow you could hear your own pulse in your ears. the clear lenses framed those devastating eyes, and then he did it. he lifted his hand, removed the glasses again in one fluid motion, folded them, set them aside, and looked up at you with that smooth, heart-stopping smile. the one that had ruined you from the very first time you’d seen it on a magazine cover. up close, it was lethal. devastating. a weapon.
“i thought you were the expert here?” he said, voice dripping with amused challenge, that smile still curving his impossibly perfect mouth. “come on. don’t stop now.”
your brain shorted out. just white noise and static and a high-pitched internal scream that went eeeeeeee for a solid three seconds. you’d played yourself. completely, thoroughly, spectacularly played yourself. the woman who’d sent voice messages saying i’m gonna ruin you was now paralyzed by the sight of a single smile.
yukimiya’s hand closed around your wrist and tugged, gentle but insistent, until you had no choice but to climb onto the couch, knees bracketing his hips. the position brought your bare cunt into direct, hovering proximity with his lower stomach, and the heat radiating from his skin was obscene. you could see the faint shine of your own arousal smeared on your inner thighs, could smell the musky-sweet scent of it rising between you.
“sit,” he said. “right here.” his free hand patted his stomach, just below his navel, where the uppermost abdominals formed a solid plateau. “i want to feel you. all that talk, prove it.”
your knees were shaking. you lowered yourself, inch by inch, until the plush, slick folds of your pussy made contact with his skin. the sensation ripped a gasp straight from your lungs. he was so fucking warm. hard beneath the soft give of flesh, the ridges of his abdominal muscles pressing up against your most sensitive place with startling precision. your outer lips parted on impact, spreading to either side of the central groove of his linea alba, and the inner lips – those delicate, darker-pink petals that hid your clit – were immediately coated in your own wetness, sliding against the smooth terrain of him.
“fuuuck,” you breathed, the word stretching out, your hips already twitching with the need to move.
“that’s it,” yukimiya murmured. his hands found your thighs, palms spreading over the trembling muscle, thumbs stroking slow circles near the crease of your hips. “good girl. now ride.”
the praise hit you like a shot of whiskey – burning, disorienting, intoxicating. you braced your hands on his chest, fingers curling against the firm pectoral muscle, and rolled your hips forward. your clit dragged across the topmost abdominal ridge, that hard stripe of muscle, and the friction was so exquisitely perfect that your vision blurred at the edges. you did it again. ground down, swiveled, felt the wet smear of yourself painting his skin, the slight catch-and-release of your inner labia sticking to him before sliding free.
“you feel that?” you heard yourself whisper, voice wrecked already.
“every fucking inch of you,” he answered, and his grip on your thighs tightened.
“don’t stop. use me. get your cunt all over my stomach, that’s what you wanted, right?”
“yes,” you gasped. “yes, yes—”
you found a rhythm, nothing elegant, just desperate fucking grinding that had your clit bumping over each sculpted ridge, the head of it swollen and aching and rubbing against the hard wall of muscle again and again. each rotation sent a shock of pleasure spiraling up through your belly. your breasts bounced with the movement, nipples peaked so tight they ached, and yukimiya’s gaze dropped to watch them, his tongue wetting his lower lip.
“look at you,” he said, voice thick with genuine wonder. “soaking me. i can feel how wet you are— fuck, you’re dripping down into my fucking navel.”
you were. you could feel it, the hot trickle of your own arousal pooling in the shallow dip of his belly button, and the knowledge made you moan, loud and unguarded. your pace increased, hips bucking in short, frantic strokes that had your clit kissing the firm shelf of his abs at a merciless angle. the sound of it – wet, obscene, a slick schlick every time you moved – filled the room alongside your broken little cries.
yukimiya’s hands slid up your thighs, over your hipbones, and one thumb dipped down into the slick mess between your legs. not into you – not yet – just tracing the seam of you, gathering wetness, smearing it across your outer lips with a pressure that made you keen. “you’re doing so good,” he said, and the praise was a drug. “so fucking good for me. keep going. fuck my abs until you can’t talk anymore.”
“kenyu— oh god, i’m— i’m close, i’m really—”
“yeah? gonna come all over my stomach? do it.” his thumb pressed against your clit, just beside where you were grinding, adding a pinpoint of pressure that made white light flash behind your eyes. “come on. be a good girl and soak me.”
the combination of his voice, his thumb, the relentless rubbing of your sensitive flesh against the chiseled contours of his abdomen – it was too much. your orgasm hit you like a fist, sudden and violent, ripping through your lower belly and spiraling outward until you couldn’t do anything but ride it out, gasping his name like a prayer. your hips stuttered, losing rhythm, grinding down in messy circles as the waves crashed through you. you felt the gush of it, the extra flood of wetness that escaped you, smearing across his skin in a slick sheen. your inner walls clenched around nothing, aching for fullness, but the pleasure was so sharp and consuming you didn’t care.
yukimiya watched you come apart with an expression of ravenous satisfaction, his thumb still circling your clit through the aftershocks, drawing it out until you were whimpering and oversensitive. “beautiful,” he said, quiet and reverent. “fucking beautiful.”
you collapsed forward, forehead dropping to his shoulder, breath coming in ragged pants against the warm skin of his neck. your cunt still twitched against his stomach, little involuntary flutters that made you gasp. his hands were on your back, gentle now, tracing lazy patterns down your spine.
“i thought you were a gentleman,” you mumbled into his collarbone, voice fuzzy. “not a… not a fucking menace.”
he laughed, the vibration rumbling through his chest against your cheek. “gentleman and a menace aren’t mutually exclusive.” a beat of silence, then his lips brushed the shell of your ear.
“besides,” he whispered, a distinct, breathless smirk in his voice, “you’re the one who left a literal puddle on my modeling assets. how am i supposed to explain this to my agency?”
you groaned, hiding your burning face deeper into the crook of his neck. “tell them it was a highly specialized, hydrating core workout.”
he chuckled, his chest lifting you slightly with the movement. he reached over to the console table once more, blindly searching until his fingers caught his glasses, sliding them back onto his face. he leaned his head back against the sofa cushions, looking down at his torso with an analytical, mock-serious squint through the lenses.
“hm. eight out of ten for execution,” yukimiya declared softly, adjusting the frames on his nose. “but a solid eleven out of ten for sticking to your promise. you really didn’t leave a single groove un-soaked, did you?”
“shut up,” you muttered, swatting weakly at his chest, though you didn’t actually want to move an inch away from his warmth.
his smile softened, losing all of its sharp, teasing edge and melting into something incredibly warm and genuine. he slid his glasses off with his free hand, tossing them carelessly onto the cushions next to you, and wrapped both arms securely around your waist. he tucked you impossibly closer, letting his chin rest against the top of your head for a quiet, comfortable moment while your breathing finally leveled out.
then, he leaned down and pressed a long, soft, lingering kiss right against your forehead, his lips warm and grounding against your skin.
“welcome to my apartment,” he murmured against your hairline, his voice thick with a sweet, private fondness that made your heart do a completely different kind of flip.
“now, as much as i love being your personal slip-and-slide, we should probably get a towel before it dries. or... maybe we could just skip the movie entirely and move this to the bed?”
— a bllk fanfic // you and your roommate are stuck in a heatwave.
synopsis: a heatwave leaves you and your roommate sweating.
pairing: afab! PERV! reader x PERV roommate! yukimiya kenyu!
wc: 2.2k
cw: perv x perv is very strong in this one guys. MDNI. nsfw includes: d*bcon(?) mast*rbation. female org*sm. c*nnilingus. slight p*rn logic. s*mnopihilia if you squint. no explicit c*nsent. that's it. short 'n sweet.
old m.list. | new m.list.
sweat rolled down your back, sticking to your sleep shirt. the sheets under you crumpled and folded in ugly creases that pricked at your overheated skin. your hair stuck to your nape. ugh. you felt yourself going insane with each dragged out tick-tock of the wall clock. you couldn't possibly sleep like this!
it was already three and your entire apartment complex had lost it's electricity. no fans, no ac, no nothing! complaining to your owner was of no use, with them assuring you that they'd fix the issue "soon enough" and it already being two hours since. throwing your phone to your side, you groaned into the hot, sticky air, "fuck. i'm gonna kill someone."
your room was small. stuffy. surely, you couldn't allow yourself to boil in here! sitting up, you felt the damp sweat cling onto you like a second skin. huffing and puffing, you picked yourself up to totter outside your room and into the hallway.
you were sure that your roommate was fast asleep. with him being a national level athelete, yukimiya kenyu usually passed out before you were even tucked in for the night. you were sure this heat was the least of his worries after those long practice matches. uncaring for him or his current state, you planned to go down the hallway and into your kitchen to atleast quench your parched throat. but as soon as you stepped out, you ran face-first into your roommate's chest. his muscles were hard against your face.
"god- yukki!" you groaned and staggered back, rubbing your nose where it had bumped into his chest. it was hard seeing anything in the dark but you could make out his familiar, towering silhouette. looking up at his darkened face, you furrowed your brows, "you weren't asleep?"
he turned on the flash of his phone. the harsh light stung your eyes but when you finally adjusted, you could make out his face. his hair was damp, eyes downturned and exhausted, cheeks flushed. his entire pale face had a reddened hue. beads of sweat lined his hairline. he was dressed in nothing but a tank top and a pair of loose shorts, and even in minimal light, you could see the muscles prod under the flimsy materials. he looked... good. right?
you could almost imagine him like after a match, or an intense fuck-session. the sweat on his skin, the flush of his cheeks, the droopy nature of his eyes. you could almost imagine his voice as he pummeled his length into... okay. maybe... none of what you thinking was a roommate-like thing to think.
yukimiya stifled a yawn, ignorant to your conundrums. he bleakly confessed, "can't sleep."
"god, me too." you pouted, drawing your own imagination away from the lewd thoughts you were having. he was just your roommate! a nice, young man you were supposed to share housing with! you rambled on." i called the owner an hour back—"
"and they said they're trying to fix it? yeah." he sighed miserably, "same with me. i called but no updates. apparently, they can't find an electrician in the middle of the night."
"seriously?" you frowned, "it's gonna be like this the whole night?"
he shrugged, "seems like it."
"god, what do we fucking do then?"
he rubbed the back of his neck, "i thought I'd go sleep in the living room. it's less stuffy than my room, honestly. plus, there's the balcony, you know?"
you hummed, nodding, "that's a good idea."
"yeah." he nodded, "what about you?"
"i was just going to get myself some water. then, back into the depths of hell i crawled out of!" your fake enthusiasm was enough to make the man smile. but soon, he tilted his head, "but isn't it gonna be really hot in there? your room's smaller than mine."
"well, what can you do." you sighed. yukimiya blinked at you for a second, not really saying anything. when he finally started, his voice was soft, "there's enough space in the living room... for both of us."
"oh?" heat shot to your cheeks. the implication of his words had your mind reeling but you kept it professional. courteous. "I mean— wouldn't it bother you?"
"no." he immediately shook his head, "you can take the couch and i can sleep on the floor."
your eyes widened at the suggestion, "don't be stupid! the couch is big enough for the both of us. there's no need for you to take the floor! it'll be so uncomfortable."
"i wouldn't mind..."
you cut him off, "no. you're being so unreasonable right now, yukki."
he gulped at your nickname, "wouldn't it be... it wouldn't bother you to share the couch?"
you shook your head, "no! we're not kids. we can totally share the couch. plus, this way we have better chances of getting some sleep."
yeah, you regret saying that so much now. because right now? you were getting no sleep. none.
you were sure atleast an hour had passed since you and yukimiya had shifted to the couch and you could still not sleep. sure, this living room was so much cooler than your own room but now... now, there was something else that was getting you hot and bothered.
your roommate had fallen asleep two minutes after taking to the couch. his snores were soft, his body rose and fell even softer. your eyes fell to his face. you knew yukimiya was a part time model, and it became all the more apparent with his perfectly sculpted face five inches away from yours. his pale, smooth skin was still flushed red. in his sleep, he furrowed his eyes and jut his bottom lip out. he was cute.
sighing, and a bit warm in your cheeks, you looked away from him. after minutes of staring at your uneventful ceiling, your eyes began drooping down, down, down. you had almost fallen asleep! everything was good! but then... yukimiya kenyu ruined it!
he, in his unconscious state, decided to wrap a beefy arm around your waist. he pulled you in towards himself till your body was right next to his. his breath fanned across your cheeks for the barest fraction of a second before he snuggled his face against the crook of your skin. you could smell the scent of his body wash, something that usually lingered in the shower right after her came out. and the thought of shower made you imagine yukimiya naked — wet hair. all taut, milky muscles. toned arms and legs. and... a reddened cockhead beading out drops of pre—
god. no. you overheated.
you pressed your thighs together. biting down your lips, you tried to steady your breathing. god, you were a lecherous woman! imagining him in such a lewd way when all he had done was press a carefree arm around your waist! you were such a terrible woman! such a pervert—! oh, and he was tightening his arm and nuzzling his lips in a faint kiss against your perspired neck.
you bit down your bottom lip lest something ungodly escape you. after attempting to calm yourself down, you craned your face to his with a furious blush. you croaked out slowly, "y-yukimiya...?"
but he was out like the goddamn electricity in your apartment! your words did nothing but stir him and drive him closer against your skin. his chest pressed to your side. you heard him mumble, "what...?"
unable to move, or think, or do anything remotely human, you whispered, "you're... you're holding me. a-accidentally..."
"hm?" he just hummed, so out of it as his arm inched closer to your chest and pressed down to it. the action wasn't sexual! it couldn't possibly be! he was just asleep... right? right! cause he wasn't stirring or anything! he was slumped like a log against you!
minutes ticked by, slowly feeling more and more like hours. sleep didn't come to you. and now, here you were an hour later.
your panties? soaked. sleep? gone. head? filled with every nasty fantasy you could conjure about the man next to you.
in your head, yukimiya kenyu had already ripped off your sleep shirt and shorts, dipping his digits in your slippery heat. he had already kissed down your neck and you had already wrapped your hand around his achy, erect dick. fuck, you two had already made each other cum about three times. in real life, however, you were still laying next to him — paralyzed and sweaty.
you bit down your bottom lip, an achy sigh passing you by. a fleeting glance his way reminded you of just how deep he was in his slumber. gulping, you found your fingers circling your pert nipples. it's... it's not like he'd find out, right? he was asleep, after all. and... and it was innocent! it's not like you were doing anything wrong.
growing bolder, you pressed down your palm against the swell of your chest. your fingers leisurely rubbed over your nipples, before pinching them through the thin fabric of your top. you held in your voice, resisting the urge to spill out the ache in your heart and cunt through your mouth.
yukimiya's hand was still around your waist. carefully, so as to not wake him up, you brought your hand down to your shorts. tugging your panties aside, you felt your eyes roll back into your skull as you finally felt your cool finger pads against your puffy, neglected cunt. you rubbed hasty circles, all messy and uncalculated. heat ran through your entire body. your back arched off the couch, into the inviting, hard muscles of his arms. shaking, you shifted your gaze to yukimiya. he was still sleeping. thank god. you looked away with a sigh of relief. your movements quickened.
"oh my god-! y-yuki..." you mouthed, circling your fingers against the hood of your clit. under you the nub fluttered and throbbed. you quickly brought another hand to your chest again. your hand slipped under your tshirt, pressing down on your sensitive tits. biting back mewls, you felt your orgasm crescendo in the background. your thighs shook, toes curled, head thrown to the side against the couch all while you tried not to scream out yukimiya's name. you shifted your face to the other side in an attempt to look at yukimiya's face. instead, you found his eyes wide open, already trained on you.
you jolted.
pulling your hands out of your pants immediately, you yelped at his lazy expression. your body instinctively tried to get up, to get yourself out of this situation that you had set yourself in, but his arm around you limited your movements, caged you in against him. he yawned carelessly, "isn't it really hot today?"
your lips wobbled, "y-yukimiya?"
"god, i could barely sleep." he mumbled. horrified at this idle chit-chat, you parted your lips open in a whimper, "yukimiya... how long... have been up?"
"five minutes." he gave you a lazy smile, "felt you squirm too much against me. and i think i heard you call out my name once or twice."
"i... did?" you swallowed, frenzied eyes filling up with tears from the sheer humiliation of the situation. what was he gonna think of you now?! that you were a pervert?! what if he canceled the lease and forced you to move out?!
you opened your mouth in a desperate attempt at salvation. you'd apologize, tell him it was just a mistake, chant apologies till the end of your days. instead, yukimiya beat you to it and hummed, "why'd you stop? weren't you close?"
"i-" you blinked slow and spoke even slower, "what...?"
he guided his palm to the hem of your sleep shirt. softly tugging it up, he exposed your skin to the heated air. his eyes didn't leave yours as your chest spilled out with a soft jiggle. the open air pierced your skin, erecting goosebumps all over.
"yuki...miya? what are you-?" you whimpered out pathetically. he rubbed and caressed the pert bud, uncaring as he hummed out, "can i be honest?"
you didn't say, didn't even breathe. the man sighed to himself, blissfully rolling your nipples in between his hot fingers, "i didn't like how you kept all of it in."
"wh-what?"
"hm? your moans." he gave you a handsome smile, the kind that assured you all was well, "you know, i'm kind of a greedy bastard. i wanted to hear them."
your breath caught in your throat as his hand drifted down your stomach to the waistband of your shorts. he played with the hem, with his eyes still trained against yours. "say, now that i'm up. you won't keep your pretty noises in, right? you'd let me hear them."
he pulled at your shorts and you lifted your hips up in compliance. peeling the fabric down your body, yukimiya left you just in your ruined, soaked pair of panties. he casually cooed, "say yes."
your body betrayed you as you felt beads of sticky arousal weep out of your cunt. you nodded slowly, "y-yes?"
"tch. say it properly."
"i'd..." your cheeks flamed, "i'd let you listen to me..."
"good." propping himself up, he gave you a grin, "then i better get to work. you never did cum, did you?"
your jaw fell agape, eyes following him as he shifted from his position next to you the one in between your thighs. your eyes widened, "yukimiya?"
he planted a kiss against your inner thigh, giving you a fleeting look upwards. his cheeks were flushed, lips stretched into a smile. "it's yukki for you, love."
you gasped as he thumbed your clit through your panties. cheekily grinning, he mused, "god, you're soaking, huh? felt good playing with yourself?"
you nodded, "yeah, y-yukki."
pushing your panties to the side, he kissed your clit chastely. the flutter of his lips against your overstimulated cunt made your thighs clench on either side of his cheeks. you gasped, "f-fuck, yukki!"
"mhm." he hummed against your nub, sucking and drinking down your arousal down your throat. "that's exactly what i wanna hear. make a mess, baby. cum on my face."
a.n.: NOT PROOFREAD. yukimiya i live and breathe you. my pretty boy in glasses, i love you. anyways, enjoy the nasties mwuah mwuah <3
old m.list. | new m.list.
a/n: happy birthday @jojo-sugoi! i apologize that i am a little late, but i hope you had the most amazing day and that your birthday was filled with so much love, big smiles, and many many many gifts!!!
i was short on time so since your and yukimiya’s birthdays are just a day apart, i decided to also write a post for both you and him, i hope you like it! 🥹🤍
ac goes to kaoecupp???
synopsis: going on a date with the photogenic yukimiya as his camera-shy gf, but by the end of it, you come to find out that he’s been taking photos of you all along, just to help you learn what it means to be loved exactly as you are.
the first time he pulls out his phone, you already know what’s coming.
not because he says anything (because he doesn’t, actually), but because of the way his posture shifts. it’s subtle. practiced. like muscle memory. his shoulders straighten just a little, his chin tilts, his expression softens into something effortless, but intentional.
he doesn’t even look at the screen for long. just a quick glance, thumb adjusting something, and then–
click.
you blink at him from across the café table, halfway through stirring your drink. “already?”
yukimiya just smiles, easy and bright, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “memories,” he says simply.
of course he would say that.
of course he would look like that while saying it.
because yukimiya isn’t just good-looking – he’s aware of it. not in an arrogant way, not in that loud, look-at-me kind of confidence. it’s quieter than that. controlled. like he knows exactly what he looks like from every angle and has already made peace with it.
you, on the other hand, are actively trying not to look at your own reflection in the spoon.
“your turn,” he says, sliding his phone slightly toward you.
you laugh immediately, shaking your head. “no thank you.”
he raises a brow, amused. “not even one?”
“i’ll take one of you,” you offer quickly, already reaching for your own phone like a defense mechanism. “that’s the deal.”
his smile widens – he knows you’re deflecting – but he lets you.
and of course, when you point the camera at him, he doesn’t even need a second.
his elbow rests casually on the table, fingers brushing against his cheek. his gaze shifts – not directly at the lens, but slightly off, like he’s caught in a candid moment. soft, distant, perfect.
you squint at your screen. “that’s so unfair…” you mutter, snapping the picture anyway.
“what is?” he asks.
“you didn’t even try.”
“i did,” he says lightly. “you just didn’t see it.”
you huff, lowering your phone and glancing at the photo again. it looks like something straight out of a magazine. lighting, angles, expression – everything just works.
you glance back up at him, then down at your own reflection in the black screen of your phone.
“... i wish i was photogenic like that.”
it slips out before you can stop it.
there’s a pause.
not an awkward one. just… a quiet shift in the air.
yukimiya tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that feels a little too focused. too intentional.
“it’s a mindset thing,” he says.
and that’s it. no elaboration. no explanation. just that.
you blink at him. “what does that even mean…?”
he just smiles again, like he’s keeping something to himself. “you’ll figure it out.”
you narrow your eyes at him, unconvinced. “that’s not helpful.”
“mm,” he hums, taking a sip of his drink. “i think it is.”
you decide he’s being annoying on purpose.
the rest of the date unfolds the way it always does with him – easy, warm, full of small moments that don’t feel small at all.
you walk through little shops, pointing out things that catch your eye. you drag him into places he definitely wouldn’t have entered on his own, and he follows without complaint, hands tucked in his pockets, watching you more than anything else.
you don’t notice when he pulls out his phone again.
or the way he angles it slightly–
click.
you’re standing in front of a display, head tilted as you examine something. your expression is thoughtful, a little scrunched, completely unaware.
in the photo, you look… soft. real. beautiful in a way that isn’t trying to be.
yukimiya stares at the screen for a second longer than necessary. his thumb hovers, then taps the screen gently, like he’s committing the moment to memory twice.
later, you’re outside, sunlight catching in your hair as you laugh at something he says. you lean forward slightly, hand covering your mouth, eyes crinkling at the corners.
click.
this one hits him a little harder.
because it’s not just how you look – it’s how you feel.
how easy you are. how warm. how, somehow, every expression you make feels like something he wants to keep forever.
he exhales quietly, locking his phone before you can notice.
“wait,” you say suddenly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “stand there.”
he glances back at you, already amused. “another one?”
“obviously.”
you gesture vaguely. “the lighting is good. don’t waste it.”
he chuckles, but he listens.
then he shifts slightly, letting the sunlight hit just right, his shadow falling at the perfect angle. one hand slips into his pocket, the other brushing through his hair.
you take the picture.
and yeah. it’s perfect. again.
you stare at it for a second, then groan softly. “this is actually ridiculous.”
“what is?”
“you,” you say, pointing at your phone. “how do you do that?”
he steps closer, glancing at the photo. “do what?”
“exist like a pinterest board,” you deadpan.
he laughs, low and soft. “that’s a new one.”
you hesitate for a second before adding, quieter this time, “i just… don’t look like that in pictures.”
there’s that shift again.
this time, he doesn’t brush it off.
he looks at you, really looks at you, and for a moment, there’s something almost serious in his expression.
“you don’t see yourself the way you actually are,” he says.
you frown slightly. “and how is that?”
he doesn’t answer right away.
instead, his gaze flickers – just briefly – to your face. the way the sunlight hits your skin. the way your hair moves with the breeze. the way your expression holds a mix of curiosity and doubt.
things he’s been noticing all day. things he’s been saving.
“like someone who needs to try,” he says finally. “when you don’t.”
you blink, caught off guard.
“you think being photogenic is about angles and lighting,” he continues, voice calm, steady. “but it’s not. it’s about being comfortable existing as you are.”
you look away slightly, your fingers tightening around your phone. “… that’s easier said than done.”
“yeah,” he agrees easily. “it is.”
and then, softer–
“but you’re already doing it.”
you glance back up at him. “i am?”
he nods.
and there’s something about the way he says it – so certain, so sure – that makes your chest feel a little tight.
you don’t fully understand what he means. not yet.
that night, after he walks you home, after the soft goodbyes and lingering glances, after you finally collapse onto your bed with your phone in hand, your messages buzz.
yukimiya.
you open it. and freeze.
it’s a photo. not of him. of you.
you’re mid-laugh, head tilted back slightly, eyes closed, sunlight wrapping around you like it belongs there.
you don’t remember him taking it.
before you can process that, another one comes in.
you, standing in the flower shop. focused. soft.
another.
you, walking ahead of him, hair catching the light.
another.
you, looking at him.
that one makes your breath hitch a little.
because the way you’re looking at him in the photo, it’s gentle. it’s fond. it’s… something you didn’t realize was so obvious.
your fingers hover over the screen. then his message comes through.
“still think you’re not photogenic?”
you stare at the photos again. really stare this time. not picking yourself apart. not searching for flaws. just… looking.
and slowly, something shifts. because these don’t look like the versions of you you see in mirrors or front cameras or rushed selfies. they look like… moments. real ones. unfiltered.
and somehow, in all of them – you don’t look like someone who needs to change.
you look like someone who’s already enough.
your chest feels warm. a little overwhelming. you type back, hesitating.
“you’re biased.”
his reply is immediate.
“i’m in love with you. of course i am.”
your heart stutters.
before you can even recover–
“but that doesn’t make me wrong.”
you press your lips together, staring at the screen, then back at the photos. at yourself. at the version of you he sees so clearly.
and for the first time, you don’t immediately look away.
maybe… maybe it really is a mindset thing.
and maybe, just maybe, you’re allowed to start seeing yourself the way someone who loves you already does.
SYNOPSIS: as a manager during the nel, a well-deserved rest was needed. what better way to rest than a fun day in the hot summer air, in a bikini, at the beach?
note: this was originally a special for 100k reads on my wattpad book found (which u should SO read btw #shamelesspromo) but to avoid confusion i edited out a lot of mentions of the manager characters who were included in this short! i really hope you all enjoy!
TODAY
is a completely regular day of fun outings. Shidou had (in)formally organised a beach trip, something you decided would be a good idea. The NEL has been stressful on all of you, whether it be you and the other managers, the players, or even coaches—taking a good day off seemed to be a good idea.
So, you were heading to the beach.
The place where women can wear skimpy bikinis without being called promiscuous names (it would happen anyway—but in a perfect world everybody would mind their own business) and the place where strange men (some of those men may happen to be named Otoya and Aiku) would check out the local fauna dressed in said skimpy bikinis.
It was a fun day of splashing around in the waves, ignoring all problems present in your life, and unwinding in the grainy sand. You miss it. That is why, even though you're sure this will happen to end up in disaster, you agreed.
So, this is what got you in this predicament now—thirty minutes before you had to get there with a ten minute trip driving—that was all that was left for you to remember everything.
Swimming outfit. A change of clothes. Sandals that won't trap sand. What else...
You ponder as you stare down at your duffel bag, filled with everything you need. Money—food stalls at the beach were always ridiculously expensive for no apparent reason, Floaties—you never know when somebody might just need some abrupt saving. Towels—plenty of towels, A robe—you'll probably be a little chilly when you get out of the water.
Apart from the obvious essentials like hair ties, deodorant, sunscreen, keys and whatever other odd things you need whenever you go out—you think you're good to go.
You take a good look at your swimsuit. You haven't worn it in a while. A simple black two-piece with each front piece of fabric being held together with two silver rings—it's a little smaller than you would've liked, but you don't own any other kind, so you decide to just go with it.
You roll up your towel nicely and tuck it into your bag, then zip it up. You stare down at the fat duffel bag that is practically bursting at the seams. You are ready to take on the final boss—the beach.
You stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, pulling at the tight elastic band of your bikini. It digs into your skin slightly. Hissing through your teeth—you decide it's nothing, and quickly make your way outside.
With your bag under your arm, you walk out and look around. Two of the other manager girls said they'd saved a spot underneath a bright purple umbrella. It takes little effort to spot it in all its neon glory.
They both sit atop a beach towel, with odd things like sunscreen, keys, and waterproof mascara all scattered around them. You wave a little before you sit down on a part of the towel, taking in the sight of the beautiful beach.
Children running around, adults chasing after them—some guy was even getting told off in the middle of the waves for losing his swim trunks. All in all, the beach was positively bursting with rich energy.
You missed this. You haven't felt this calm in a good while. Dealing with all those rowdy boys vying for your attention—it took a toll on you.
Too bad this peace would not last for too long.
Your phone dings. You pick it up and press on the notification—it's a snap from Shidou. You hesitantly click on the picture and it's a closeup of his left eye—but in the background, you can see the side of the building you had just changed inside, and a shirtless Otoya is trying to kick at somebody.
You don't even have the chance to properly react when a loud yell interrupts your thoughts. You snap your head towards the sound so fast your neck aches—the source was Rin on the floor while, even though a second ago a phone should've been in his hand, Shidou is jumping him.
A smart, sassy quip and loud groans erupts from both you and the other manager girls—you slap your phone down and squeeze your face in your hands.
Perhaps this is the start of doomsday, you think as the overly massive group starts making their way towards you and your blaring purple target of a neon umbrella.
"[name]!!" Bachira crashes into you—with the way he knocks you both to the sandy ground, he should be playing rugby instead of soccer—and rubs his cheek against yours like a loving cat. "I'm so excited to see you again! You never come by our stratum!!"
He's flat on top of you and the stares you're receiving start to grow uncomfortable. You push back at his chest but he simply opts to sneak his arms around your shoulders, "Bachira...!! Let me... get up..."
It takes the brute force of Barou King Shoei to remove his figure from latching onto yours. With a twitching brow and eyes that could stab daggers into Bachira—a small laugh unintentionally escapes your lips when he talks, "You're all sandy, you disgusting bug. If you get all that sand on the towel, I'll seriously kill you."
Bachira is being held up by the scruff of his water suit like a cat. He dangles in the air and flings himself at Barou next—"Fight me, king!"
"YOU—!!!"
Ignoring the upcoming brawl on the ground, you step over the two and you find your way towards...
"Hello, Isagi."
Your voice seems to make him jump—his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of your face and he looks far too nervous to be speaking to you. "O—Oh... Hello, [name]...! It's good to see you again..."
He's trembling and making such intense eye contact that you wonder if he's okay. His fists are clenched hard beside his body and you think he might just about have a heart attack. "Are you... okay?"
He answers a little too quickly, "Yes! I'm fine, haha, why would you worry about me? I'm totally good! Best I've ever been! Why would you ask? I look okay, right? Well, I gotta go now! I'll see you later, [name]!"
He runs off like he's a high school girl who's just had her first conversation with her senior crush. I can't tell if he's insecure about how he looks or worried about being disrespectful to me.
Maybe it's a mix of both. Isagi is on the slimmer side, compared to guys like Barou. Even though I know he's not, he looks like he's on steroids.
And Isagi's always been worried about being disrespectful to you—worried about overstepping boundaries and making you uncomfortable—at least when he's in his usual, clear state of mind. There's no telling what he's thinking when he stares down at you late at night after a good game with that overconfident, egotistical smirk.
Anyways—he's rushed away by now, and you're just standing here looking all stupid. Oh well. At least you're not alone for too long, because your attention is quickly stolen away by a certain trio.
Karasu, Otoya, and Yukimiya all come up to you—only one bothers to wave or even smile (there's no surprise he's a model—he's seriously gorgeous, you note when glancing down at his torso).
"Hey." The sneaky ninja is not so sneaky anymore, because he doesn't even try and disguise the way he's staring at your chest. He gives you a thumbs up, to which you scowl, "Lookin' good."
"Get your eyes off my chest."
"Sicko." Karasu shakes his head with a disappointed expression. You deadpan.
"You too, stupid crow."
"Did your mothers not teach you respect?" Yukimiya clicks his tongue—eyes fluttering closed as he shakes his head. He soon turns his head towards you and he actually does make eye contact with you—a step above his two friends. "It's nice to see you, [name]. You look very nice. Ignore these two."
You promptly ignore the offended looks shot at the model—you opt to just stare, perhaps a little too dreamily (but you couldn't care less, really), and smile back, "It's nice to see you too, Yukki. Thank you, you look handsome today, too. I was planning on ignoring those two, anyways."
"Woah, that is seriously hurtful." Karasu places a hand over his bare chest where his heart would be. "Too bad I don't care."
You roll your eyes. "Of course you don't, stupid crow."
"Would you stop calling me that?"
"Would you stop staring at my boobs?"
He pauses. "Point taken."
Having Nagi cling to you during your time at Blue Lock is pretty hard already. Believe it or not, he's 6'2, and believe it or not, having a grown 6'2 man hanging off your side makes it pretty hard to get around.
Having a shirtless, messy-haired Nagi plant himself right on top of you and having his face smushed against the top of your chest is a little worse.
You can feel a burning stare at the back of your head. You're not sure if the stare Reo is giving you is directed at you or the snow-haired boy. (Perhaps it is both and he's just conflicted—you would understand).
"Nagi..." You push back at his head and slowly intertwine your fingers in the white locks. They're softer than you imagined, but the ends are unmistakably dead. You should cut it for him later. "Go swim or something."
You are disappointed (yet, not the slightest bit surprised) when he promptly shakes his head no and proceeds to dig his nose even deeper into your exposed skin. His voice is slightly muffled, but still plausibly understandable, "Nuh-uh. Dun' wanna."
Your eyes twitch. Perhaps you have been spoiling him a little too much—so much so he refuses to leave you be.
"'Cause I didn't wanna go, but then mmmm... uh—Reo told me you were gonna come... and it wouldn't be too much of a hassle if you stayed with me. Hadn't seen you in so long. Missed you."
Right. You forgot he told you that before, too. Perhaps you had been a bit too doting on Nagi—he's clingy-er than you remember. Or perhaps it had been similar to that saying, distance makes the heart grow fonder.
A loud shriek (it sounds far too girly to have come out of Nagi's mouth, but go figure) alerts you and you see Nagi has been grabbed backwards into a headlock by Barou King Shoei. Perhaps he had turned away from the villainous side since your last meeting with him, because right now, he's saved you twice, like a hero.
Nagi doesn't even fight the King's death grip—he flops like a dead fish and it looks rather funny seeing it so closely. Nagi is taller, yet much lankier than Barou, who looks like a bodybuilder compared to the lazy snowhead.
"You're kicking sand all over the towel, Mr Hassleman." Barou snarls and jerks Nagi's head back. The boy doesn't react other than wearing his little :x face. "Go swim it off. Now."
Nagi does not make any visible effort to move. Barou still holds him like a ragdoll in his grip when he turns to look at you—you laugh a little and move your sunhat out of your eyes. "Hi, Barou. It's nice to see that you came. I didn't think you'd like the beach."
He looks a lot different with his hair down, you note. But in a good way. Fallen beneath his shoulders—you wonder why he does not wear it this way more often. He still holds his signature forever pissed-off expression, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think I'm incapable of having fun?"
You pause, with a small grin. "Yeah, kinda."
He gives you a deadpan expression. "You're the same as always, you shit manager."
"I thought our relationship had progressed to the point we'd gotten past these mean names." You place a hand over your chest, a cheeky smile on your lips with a faux-hurt expression. You didn't usually joke around like this—it wasn't really your thing—but he was just far too easy of a target to tease. "I'm hurt, King."
He cocks a brow—you see Nagi trying to wriggle around now, and it's good to know he didn't actually die—"Seriously? Didn't think you were the type of person to care."
"Doesn't matter now. You're gonna swim, right?" With a nod of his head, you break away from his sharp stare and give him a small wave with a closed-eye smile. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Oh yeah—by the way, you look good with your hair down. You should do it more often. Anyways, see you later."
You do not catch the half-hearted wave Nagi sends you—which was just him flopping his arm up in the air—nor do you catch the look Barou throws over his shoulder at you, "... Not too bad yourself."
He says, but you do not catch it.
Nagi stares up at the man with a blank expression, "Who knew you were all sweet on our manager, huh, King?"
The King in question growls like an animal and tosses Nagi into the ocean like a ragdoll, "Shut the fuck up!"
"Beach volleyball?" Chigiri stares with confusion in his bright pink eyes as Kurona sits on Gagamaru's shoulders—setting up the tall net. His hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and his bangs fall over his eyes. "Are you serious?"
His head turns to yours when you shrug, "Why not? Beach volleyball is super fun. It's not like you guys can play soccer on the sand."
Chigiri pauses to think your words over for a second. You give him the most empty stare you can muster before you speak, "You really can't play soccer on the sand, Chigiri."
"Well, still. Are you gonna play?"
You shake your head and spare him a small smile. "No, I think I'll pass on this one. I'd like to see you play, though. You seem like you'd be really good at volleyball."
He gives you a pretty smile and shakes his head. "Oh, I don't know. I wasn't really planning to play either. I was honestly just thinking of sitting down with you and just relaxing."
"Oh, but I really would like to see you play. I bet you'd be better than anybody else out there, Hyoma." Not to be brass or anything, but you like to think you know a good amount about Chigiri—including how to get him to do what you'd like: Fan his ego. Or to put it in better words, praise him. "I think you'd look pretty cool."
You give him the nicest smile you can muster, and you're sure that's what seals the deal. He turns his head away from yours—yet you can practically sense the smirk he now holds—"Well, if you really think so, why not?"
You laugh a little as he walks onto the court, and each side with six players—even if in official beach volleyball, there were only two on each side, this was the most unofficial game you've ever really witnessed.
Otoya and Karasu are jumping on each other's shoulders in an effort to block the spikes—it only ends in the one on top tumbling to the ground and Yukimiya shaking his head in an I'm not mad, just disappointed motion.
Bachira is using his feet to play, kicking the ball up even when his hands were a completely more viable option—you think this is illegal, but who are you to judge—and Shidou is doing the same thing, except he... is hogging the ball. You aren't even sure how you hog the ball in volleyball, but he's managing it.
Rin is the one who manages to get it away from him but it only ends up in another tussle—something you do not bother to stop because one of the manager are already running toward them with a can of hairspray (which, if you were not previously aware, has the same effect as pepper spray if directed into the eyes).
You loll your head back and let out a heavy sigh. This beach day was going better than you had expected—still, your group by far had gained the most traction from how loud you all ended up being. You've gotten countless stink-eyes from old people, especially when Shidou yells out profanities in the vicinity of little children.
You wonder if the police may get called on you all. Maybe you should pretend you're not in their group as a last-ditch effort if it does end up happening.
You are broken out of your thoughts by a small, almost nervous greeting, "Um... hey, [name]."
You look to where the source of the sound came from—you get an eyeful of Isagi's bare torso before you see his face. He's looking off to the side awkwardly as if the mere action of looking at you would be purgatory, and he looks like he doesn't know what to do with his hands so he grips the end of his swimming shorts awkwardly. It's cute.
"Hi, Isagi." You smile. You shuffle over to create a little more room on the towel you are sitting on. You pat the free spot beside you and nudge your head towards him, "Come sit."
Obediently—you didn't expect him to move so fast—he sits beside you. He still looks stiff and nervous, so you ask him what's up. He responds, quickly but much quieter than his usual calm tone, "I was... um... ah, this is so stupid..."
He sucks in a deep breath of air and turns his back towards you. It's a little more built than you imagined. "I was... just gonna ask if you could put sunscreen on my back... I can't reach, and I trust you more than the... others."
You can practically feel the way his face burns up from how his voice cracks and grows more hushed with every word. To save him from the embarrassment, you decide to spare him from teasing words. "Sure. I don't mind. I'm glad you trust me, Isagi."
The words come out a little more sultry than you intended as you test the waters and place your fingertips on his bare shoulders. He shivers. You can feel it.
You spread the sunscreen all over his back—he places his face in his hands as you work your hands a little lower. When your fingertips brush against the waistband of his shorts he has to bite back a small groan. This was utterly humiliating for him—seriously, this was sad.
You're not completely oblivious to this fact, so in a menial act of pity for the poor guy, you try and finish up as quickly as possible—if only to save him from the embarrassment.
It feels far too intimate to be just a friendly gesture. He wonders if you feel that way too. You lightly rest your palms on his tense shoulders when you are done, sitting on your knees and leaning your face near his own, "Done."
He'd be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat. He swallows thickly, blunt nails digging into his palms as he shuffles around so he faces you. The words that come out of his mouth are a little shakier than he would've liked, "T... Thanks... [name]."
The smile you have plastered on your face is nothing short of pretty, he thinks. "No problem. You can come to me if you need anything, okay?"
Why do you have to say things like that, [name]?
Isagi gives you a small nod, and practically forces a wavy smile onto his lips. "Yeah... You're really helpful, you know that?"
You laugh. "I know."
The mood between you two is calm and the strange tension from before has dissipated. You're smiling from ear to ear, about to say something—when Isagi's demeanour changes completely. You're not too sure why, but he seems to spot something behind you and his eyes completely shift.
Gone is the meek and shy boy, and in his place is a coy, smiling man. He places a hand on your upper arm—it makes you jolt and look at him in surprise. A second ago, he couldn't even look you in the eye, and now, he was shuffling closer towards you like it was the most natural thing ever.
"Anything, right?" He finally speaks, and he moves his hand up, away from your arm and it lightly traces underneath your jaw. He looks deeply into your eyes, but still keeps glancing behind you. "Can I do this?"
You do not get a chance to ask what this happens to be—although, it does not take a genius to figure it out, and you are no genius—or even spare him an answer before he grabs your hardcover novel and holds it up in front of where the two of your lips meet—covering your kiss from the other players that surround you all.
He doesn't dare take this further than a small kiss—yet, it wouldn't be considered a simple peck either. His hand holds the underside of your jaw lightly and tilts your head up so he can easily feel you and the back of the hard-cover book feels cool against your cheek.
You'd like to believe the reason your cheeks are on fire is from the blaring heat of the sun shining down on you—even though you are underneath the shade of that purple umbrella. His lips taste sweet, like a fruity drink. You think a stall nearby is serving something similar to that.
You can feel his smile against your lips, and he seems to be all too happy to have you like this. He tilts your face forward and your body has to follow—to the point you practically collapse into his lap. It feels much more intimate now that you can feel his bare skin against your own.
Isagi moves his hand down from your jaw down toward your waist, holding you taut against him and letting his fingertips rest in the dip of your back.
You finally end up moving backwards, and your sunhat almost falls off your head—Isagi quickly readjusts it when he pulls away. He gives you a sweet smile—though, it grows more cocky when he glances behind you again—and says, "You really are helpful, [name]."
You blush a little but still retain that same smile when his hands trace down your spine gently, romantically. "I know."
Isagi joins in on the beach volleyball fun with Nagi after Rin and Shidou leave in favour of taking a dip in the sea (you think you hear Shidou saying something about skinny-dipping, and you pray to every god imaginable you heard wrong), so you are left to yourself once more.
You are perfectly content. Your sunhat lay on the towel beside you and your legs are peeked out in the sun—reading your book where you last left off.
Your life is perfectly calm until it is not.
Hands suddenly cover your vision and all you see is darkness. You jerk your head up and are about to say something when a heavily accented voice suddenly rings out throughout your ears, "Guess who?"
You could recognise that voice in your sleep from how often it haunts your dreams. You recognise that voice even before you hear it. You slump down where you sit, letting out a heavy, almost tired sigh. "Kaiser..."
"Ah! How did you guess it so easily, hübsches Mädchen?" He removes the hands blocking your vision and he suddenly plops himself down, right in front of you—of course, his little guard dog is right by his side, sporting his usual guileless expression. "Perhaps you think of me far too often, hm? Also, I told you to call me Michael. We are closer than that, no?"
You shake your head, eyes slightly squinted at him. "I don't know about that. Hello, Ness."
The puppy-dog boy waves his hand at you, clearly delighted. "Hello, [name]!"
Kaiser looks annoyed at this interaction. He scoffs, rolling his electric blue eyes and waving you off mindlessly, lashes fluttering closed, "Whatever. I cannot believe you're just reading at the beach."
You raise a brow. "What's wrong with that?"
He picks up the book by its spine and tosses it nonchalantly on the towel beside you, lips curled downwards into a sneer, "It's terribly dorky. You look like a huge dork."
"You sound like you care about that more than me."
"I don't want my love interest to look like a huge geek. Appearances matter a lot, you know." Yeah, you make that really clear. He abruptly stands up—Ness scrambles to get up as well—and looks down at you, finger curling upwards towards you like he's beckoning you to follow him. "Come on."
You blink with your nose scrunched up. "Excuse me?"
He coughs into a closed fist, looking up at the bright blue sky so he doesn't have to meet your gaze. He still holds a hand out to you, "Come on. Don't keep me waiting."
You're so shocked that you actually find yourself following after him—though, you do not take his outstretched hand and it is left hanging awkwardly. Ness would've taken it.
Your sandals flop on the sand as you walk down the beach, past families and couples and people simply wanting to tan—you follow behind Kaiser in silence while Ness walks beside you. You hope people don't think of you three as a throuple. That would absolutely not be good for your image whatsoever.
You pause as soon as you realise exactly where he is leading you. He's stepped halfway into the water when you halt your movements right before the splash of a wave hits your toes.
"Yeah, no thanks." You abruptly turn on your heel and proceed to try and make a getaway—you don't get too far until Ness grabs your wrist and tugs you backwards. You tumble into him—somehow, he doesn't fall over and only grabs your upper arms in his hands with a frantic expression.
"Please, [name]! Kaiser really wants to swim with you!"
Kaiser hisses through his teeth lowly and stares at Ness like he's just cursed out his mother, "What the hell, Ness?! I never said that!"
The small boy does not make it very subtle when he gasps in shock. Ness slaps his hands over his mouth and shakes his head—his voice is muffled when he speaks, but you can still understand slightly, "I—I never said that! Nobody said that!"
He's so embarrassed the poor boy rushes into the water and disappears beneath the waves. You wonder if he has become one with the sea. In the distance, you can see Kurona and Hiori chilling on a large unicorn floatie—with drinks and colourful straws—that should've only been able to fit one person.
You and Kaiser are now just staring at each other in very much awkward silence. You take a languid step back. "Well... If you don't want to swim..."
Once again, you do not get the chance to dash away because he's grabbed you and pulled you into his grasp before you could even react. You look at him with wide eyes—but you're practically putty in his hands when he bends down and clasps his arms over the back of your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder like a menial sack of potatoes.
Your sandals fall off your feet as soon as you find yourself tucked over him—you let out a very loud, very offended, very embarrassed gasp of shock, "What the hell... ?! Kaiser—put me down! Sick bastard!"
Your words have no visible effect on him. Your head slumps down when you feel him walking, and your hair hangs over your head. You get a good eyeful of his back. He's also more muscular than you imagined. Makes sense why he could even do this. That doesn't mean you're not pissed, though.
You can't see his face, but you can practically envision his signature cocky smirk and how it paints his stupidly handsome features, "I'm all fine, hübsches Mädchen. Are you ready?"
Huh? Ready for what—!!!
You feel so indiscriminately stupid for even asking this question—you should've already known the answer—because you suddenly find yourself collapsing into the water, salt filling each of your senses and the loud noises of children screaming around you fading to muffled nothingness.
You jump up as fast as you can—you're just tall enough so you can stand with your chest above the waves. You start coughing to try and get the small amount of water you happened to swallow out of your system—your hair is now wet with the water and is suddenly heavier, and you're shivering cold.
Kaiser, the asshole he is, is laughing wildly at your expression. You push your hair away from your vision and you receive an earful of his—stupidly charming—laughter. His hands clamp over his mouth in a last-ditch effort to muffle himself, which only makes your face flush hotter with anger and your chest tightens.
You want to yell and scream into his face, but you choose the better way out. You puff your cheeks out and hold your breath as you dive back under, swimming behind him and slamming your foot into the back of his knees so that he tumbles forward, face-first into the water.
You've never felt prouder of yourself.
You bob your head back up and start to laugh wickedly now—it was his turn to look like a drowned rat. When his head comes above water, you can't help the tears of laughter that brim across your waterline when he gives you a deadpan, silently fuming glare.
His wet bangs cling to his face (somehow, it suited him—the mere thought made you feel a little angry, in the way that your stomach started to feel all weird and your heart skipped a beat or two) and his red eyeliner is smeared down his cheek. He pushes his blonde hair back, so that his damp bangs fall over his left eye and his hair is parted strangely to the side.
"Hmph." He looks away from your figure—you have to cling onto his shoulder to stop yourself from falling over, and your chest heaves up and down wildly to breathe. "I don't know what you find so funny."
You look up at him from your slumped position, eyes squinted upwards and you're practically sparkling with joy, "You... you look hilarious! Ahahaha—look at you! I can't—" Your words are cut off by your gasps for air.
Kaiser does not look the least bit impressed. He stares down at where your cheek is planted on the side of his neck, right where the blue rose lies. His hands stabilise you by falling into the small of your back—right where Isagi's fingertips once touched.
You finally regain your composure and move away from how you were practically pressed up against him—your cheeks are starting to hurt from how hard you were smiling, and you now sport a much calmer sort of grin when you stare up at him. "Ah... I'm sorry—don't look so mad—"
He rolls his eyes, which makes you chuckle, hands resting on his shoulders, "Oh come on... don't look at me like that... I'm sorry..." Your tone is far too playful to sound apologetic. He is slightly enjoying the attention you bestow upon him, but the thought makes his head hurt so he chooses not to reflect on it. "Michael..."
Fuck. His name sounds so nice coming out of your mouth.
He still keeps up the annoyed act, however, even when you grin up at him with that stupidly pretty, stupidly knowing look, "Don't be like that... I'm sorry, okay? What do you want me to do to make it up to you?"
The blonde pauses, blinking owlishly and looking down at you. You are still smiling, and he can feel your heart beating loudly in your chest. You almost look dazed, probably from your previous session of full-blown laughter.
His hands still rest lowly on your hips. He moves one and tilts your chin up with his thumb, "Hm." A smirk coils onto his lips and in an instant you can see the happiness that practically radiates off his being. "I think this will suffice, for now."
He leans forward, and suddenly, he is kissing you. Unlike Isagi—he wastes not a second to slip his tongue between your lips and kisses you as deeply and passionately as he can muster—it's so Kaiser, so him that it makes your stomach twist within itself.
His hands run down the side of your body—the places where his rough fingertips meet the skin that you usually cover with clothing make you jolt and goosebumps form on your wet skin.
His bangs tickle your cheek and despite how wet they are, they are soft. His left, tattooed hand finds itself on the side of your stomach and his blunt nails sink into the soft flesh—he grabs at whatever he can get his hands on. It's lowly and desperate and so unbefitting, so uncharacteristic of him—but in this moment, he can hardly find it within himself to care.
The hot sun beams down on you both and it causes your head to grow all hot and fuzzy—Kaiser's natural warm body heat is not helping either. You're feeling so much all at once that your hands unconsciously place themselves on his bare chest in a small attempt to create a sliver of distance between you two.
It does not work. Your torso leaves no room or gap as you're sunken into his arms—it makes him groan into your mouth and god, you almost feel sick to your stomach when you realise your first thought after hearing it is that you really want him to do it again.
You're not underwater anymore, but you might as well be. Every sense is muffled—the children screaming, the cool, glittery water that surrounds your bodies, even the blackness that clouds your closed-lidded vision—all you can feel is him, his tongue in your mouth and his hands running all over the smoothness of your skin.
Suddenly, you feel your lungs aching, and you realise you need air. You try to pull away—but his face follows yours like he's a mindless dog, and you could've laughed at it if you had not been so stripped of oxygen. You need air and yet he's kissing you like you are his air—it's a fact that makes your cheeks flush red hot.
The only option you can think of is the next action you take—you squeeze your hand out of where he presses your chests impossibly close and entangle them within his damp, blonde locks—tugging backwards and forcing him to leave the slightest amount of space between your mouths, so you can gasp for air.
Your hand tugging at Kaiser's long hair, hard, and you hotly panting into his mouth—he'd rather be caught dead than admit this aloud, but it doesn't feel half bad.
Your eyes crack open slightly, and you have to choke down a laugh when staring at his expression. His face is flushed bright red—compared to his usual pale complexion—and his squinted cerulean eyes are clouded with unmistakable desirable passionate lust.
"Scheiße, hübsches Mädchen." He curses lowly, chest rising and falling erratically as he pulls you in even closer—if that were possible. You can feel every ridge and bump of his hard torso against you and the smirk that pulls across his lips makes your heart pound. "You make my heart race."
When your breathing starts to even, he closes the gap between you both once more, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down—you whine into him and he kisses you softly as some sort of minor apology—you'd never hear the word sorry come out of his lips, after all. His hand dips down to trace up and down your spine, while the other rests below your ass.
He slides his lips away from yours, down your neck and he rests his face in the crook between your neck and shoulders—pressing languid, open-mouthed kisses against the salty skin. His hair falls over his shoulder and trickles into the water like molten honey—it flutters around in the sea and he looks stupidly gorgeous like this.
Now that he's not blocking your vision nor taking over each of your senses, you can see now see the distant figures of your friends all playing together in the sea, including that of Isagi. He's talking together with the others and having fun while you're over here, making out with one of his most hated rivals.
Still, you can't find it within yourself to give it a second thought when his teeth sink into your neck, and his hands tighten around your upper thighs. He lifts his head after you whimper a little and push him back—he follows where your eyes lead and you're sure he also happens to see the head of your dear friend.
The smile that curls across his lips is nothing short of dangerous. "Oh, is that Yoichi? Are you worried about him seeing us?" You do not give him a verbal answer, but the way you look down and the way your lips tremble gives him everything he needs. "How cute. No worries."
He lifts his face and all you can see is him. His hair falls over his shoulder and his bangs tickle your cheek once more. His touch is undeniably soft despite the carnal look he sports in his sharp, angled eyes. "Why don't we give him a show, hübsches Mädchen?"
He whispers so delicately—you do not have the mind to shake your head no, nor do you protest when he slips his tongue between your obediently open lips once more, hands tucked around your hips.
Your heart will not stop pounding. Kaiser smiles at the fact that he is doing this to you. He smiles at the fact you are like mindless putty in his hands, and he smiles at the fact that he can feel bright blue eyes staring holes into him—there's nothing wrong with showing off, right?
─────── Blue Lock characters and accidental sleepover
➥ pairings. blue lock character x reader insert
➥ featuring. isagi yoichi & itoshi rin (seperate)
➥ tags. fluff
Prompt:
You're visiting Blue Lock, but accidentally stay past visitor hours, consequently being trapped with nowhere to go.
Masterlist
Isagi Yoichi
"Shit."
Isagi pounded his fist against the entrance door.
With a frustrated sigh, he turned to you, his shoulders sagged.
"We're... trapped."
Your eyes widened. "Seriously? When can I get out then?" You shivered. "This place makes me think about Squid Game."
Isagi furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "Maybe you can sneak out tomorrow morning? I believe with the visitor's pass," he nodded at the card around your neck, "you'll be able to bypass the gates."
"So I should just... stay the night?" You postulated.
A red flush overtook Isagi's features. "Maybe? I think? Unless you want to be caught by Ego..." Isagi trailed off, and with good reason.
If Ego would catch notice that you had overstayed long past visitor's hours, you wouldn't want to imagine what sorts of punishments he'd inflict upon you.
What if he made you do lifting? Squads? Cardio.
You sighed. "I guess it isn't too bad. But where can I stay though?"
Isagi chewed his lip. "Maybe a spare room? Or in an individual practice room?"
You cringed at the thought. Laying down on sweat-soaked grass for several hours was not really an appealing prospect.
But Isagi's first idea could maybe work out.
"Alright then." You conceded. "So we just have to... scavenge the place and see if there are any rooms to spare?"
"You got it!"
No, you didn't get it.
The Blue Lock facility was a damned maze. And for what good reason?
There were countless of hallways, each of them intersecting with more hallways, that, surprise, surprise, segued into even more hallways.
And what you didn't get at all, was why Ego felt the need to install over a dozen of training rooms and not even one spare room.
Okay, granted, Blue Lock wasn't really made with the purpose of catering impromptu guests, but ensuring enough sleeping quarters should at least be high on the list, right?
Wrong.
You dragged a hand over your face. "Ugh, this is pointless." After what seemed like hours that you've been searching, even those stupid sweat-soaked training facilities looked appealing to you.
Isagi chuckled awkwardly. "Maybe there is one behind..." He pulled open a door, "this one!" But behind the door was yet another screening room.
Isagi deflated in disappointment. "Shucks. At this rate, I don't think we'll find anything."
Your heart sank in your chest. Shit, did that mean--
"Or you can sleep with me?"
--the training grounds.
You choked.
Isagi hastily patted your back, a sheepish expression on his face. "Sorry uh... wrong phrasing. I meant to say, maybe you can sleep in my room?"
Your cheeks exploded. Rooming together... with Isagi?
"But... don't you have roommates?"
"Oh yeah, shit." Isagi rubbed his neck. "But maybe we can make it work? Like, we can sneak inside, while they're all sleeping?"
You pursed your lips in thought. Maybe it could work, but it had a high probability of failing. What if the others would notice there was another person in the room?
But then again, it was the only way.
"Alright."
Isagi's eyes widened. "Alright?"
You nodded. "But I'll have to leave before the others wake up."
"I'll set an alarm." Isagi promised.
Setting an alarm had ultimately been proven useless.
Why?
Well, it all started when you snuck in Isagi's joint dormitory at the unholy time of 2 am. (Thanks to Hiori being an insomniac gamer).
So you were dead tired, which of course would prompt a long, deep sleep.
And secondly, Isagi.
Luckily, Isagi's bed was big, so you didn't have to worry about falling off.
But unfortunately, it wasn't big enough to sustain two people while simultaneously leaving ample personal space.
You were just shy from pressing against Isagi. His breathing was maybe a little too irregular for you to believe he was actually sleeping, but by his slack posture, he probably wanted you to believe he was.
Isagi was warm. His body heat seeped into yours, even though there were no existing contact points between the two of you.
In a normal situation, you would've probably been a lot more freaked out about the current state of affairs. However, because of the ungodly hours you had been awake, your body was practically beat.
And with Isagi's inviting warmth, it didn't take you long to be swayed by the allure of sleep.
However, Isagi's warmth was both a blessing and a curse: it had helped you with dozing off, but it had also kept you asleep, even when Isagi's alarm blared like a jet engine about to take off.
Though, even if it was basically rabid dog level of screeching, your ears didn't pick up on it.
But the others had.
Confused murmers rose from the frazzled roommates, wondering who in the hell would set an alarm, when they all knew Ego would probably wake them up at an uncostly hour.
"Ugh... can someone stop that sound, sound?"
"I don't know where its comin' from, turn it off."
But the alarm kept blaring.
Finally, having had enough, Hiori stomped out of his bed, his hair sticking to all sides. He slugged over to the source of the noise, and slapped the alarm.
But all lethargy evaporated as he noticed the big bump on Isagi's bed.
His first thought was that Isagi had gained weight.
His second thought was that some sort of monster had eaten Isagi.
"Guys!" Hiori shouted, "Take a look!"
Yukimiya and Kurona got out of bed, eyes still hazy from sleep, but the grogginess faded when they saw the enormous bulge in Isagi's bed.
"Maybe Isagi sleeps with pillows, pillows?" Kurona offered.
"Or he was eaten by monsters." Hiori supplied.
Yukimiya narrowed his eyes. Then, he lifted the covers.
A collective gasp.
"I think this even worse than monsters..." Hiori mumbled.
"My eyes, my eyes!" Kurona slapped his hands over his eyes and promptly fell on the ground.
A loud slam! resounded through the room.
Movement stirred from the bed.
The three roommates froze.
"What are you..." Isagi let out a huge yawn, "guys doing?"
"What... what are we doin'?" Hiori raised an eyebrow. "What have ya been doin'?"
Isagi blinked slowly. "What have I been doing...?"
"Isagi?"
Isagi froze. They all froze.
Face heating up to insurmountable temperatures, Isagi looked downwards.
You were practically half-sprawled out over his lap, arms slung around his waist, sleepy face pressed against his torso.
His cheeks exploded.
"I... uh... this is not what it looks like!" Isagi stammered, his face resembling a tomato.
"Oh really?" Yukimiya countered, "Then what is she doing in your bed?"
"We lost track of time and we couldn't leave so we... we..." Isagi made a vague gesture that was supposed to explain the situation but it did nothing except for pushing aside some molecules in the air.
"Uh-uh. I see." Yukimiya nodded, sagely, as if he actually understood what the fuck Isagi was on about. (Spoiler alert: he didn't).
"Please don't tell Ego." Isagi pleaded. "I don't want to plank for ten minutes like Bachira."
Hiori pursed his lips, actually contemplating it. The fucking sadist.
"M'kay."
Isagi's eyebrows tilted. "For real?"
"Yeah, for real, real?" Kurona turned to Hiori.
"Yes. But ya owe us." Hiori grinned. There was a dark gleam in his eye.
"Ah... okay." Isagi went for a smile, but it was painfully forced. He didn't know whether he should be grateful or scared shitless.
"Alright, let's give the love birds some time alone." Hiori practically pushed the others out of the room. "Don't do things I wouldn't do!" He yelled over his shoulder before he slammed the door closed.
"Don't do things... Hiori!" Isagi's face was beet red.
But the only answer he got, was the faint sound of cackling, ominous, laughter.
A shudder ran along Isagi's back, his hands clenching the sheets.
"'Sagi?" You murmured, still half-asleep. "Cold?"
"Uh yeah... a little." Isagi admitted, though his face told him otherwise.
"Come." You drowsily pulled at his arm.
Isagi stilled.
Then, almost reverently, Isagi slipped deeper under the covers, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
"Is this... okay?" Isagi whispered, slinging an arm over your back, pressing you closer against his chest.
"More than okay." You sighed, snuggling your face closer into his neck.
"I... uh. Okay. Yes! That's good! Very good! Do you... maybe want to get up? Not that I want you to leave, but our alarm went off and we might not have enough ti--"
"We have enough time." You decided, pressing infinitesimally closer. He smelled like cedarwood and mint. "Just five more minutes."
"Five more minutes," Isagi repeated. "Okay, that's fine. Totally."
It did not, in fact, take five minutes. Those five minutes turned into ten, twenty, thirty seven and two seconds, until finally, finally, after an hour, there was some loud bonking on the door.
Maybe later, you would regret your actions. Because being scolded by one intimidating Ego, laughed at by a vindictive Hiori and known as "Isagi's girlfriend" by the majority of Blue Lock, would surely haunt you to your grave.
But now, now you relished in the alluring warmth that was Isagi, Isagi with his pretty blue eyes and a heart that ran warmer than the sun.
(And with a very, very warm body that was now your new pillow).
Itoshi Rin
He was not stressing. Nope. Nuh uh.
"Fucking goddammit!" He slammed his fist against the door.
...see? That's a totally normal reaction when things aren't going your way.
"Uhm... Rin?" You hovered next to him, wondering if you should step in and risk suffering the same fate as the poor door, or if maybe letting him rage for a few seconds would be more preferable.
"I... damnit." Rin's jaw clenched, but when he turned to you, the hard edges around his glare faded away.
"That NPC closed all the doors." Rin hissed.
"Well... maybe I can just... stay here?" You suggested. "Surely there will be some space in this enormous building."
At that, Rin seemed to calm down a bit. "Let's go find something then."
"I'm fucking sick of this place." Rin spat, kicking a door in.
Well, there went the peace.
"Okay, wait." You said hastily, before Rin could wreak havoc on another inanimate object. "What about your room?"
Rin stilled. His eyes narrowed. "What about my room?"
You shuffled on the spot. "...Maybe I can sleep on the ground?"
"I have roommates."
"We can sneak inside?"
"Sneak inside." Rin repeated.
"Yeah, I mean, it's just for one night, right?"
Rin stared at you for a few debilitating seconds.
Then, "Fine."
"Fine?" You repeated.
"Do I need to say things twice?" Rin grumped, ears tinted red.
"Let's go." He practically stomped away.
Because you had it bad, you followed him.
Having arrived at Rin's room, you scoured the hallways, mindful of every rustle, every stray noise that gave away another person's existence.
Rin pressed his ear against the door. "The coast's clear. Come on." He stepped inside, motioning for you to follow him.
You did. But you almost wished you hadn't.
"Eugh, what's that?!" You shrieked, soul almost jumping ten feet in the air.
Rin followed your line of sight and rolled his eyes. "That's antennae freak's underwear."
Ooookay. You chuckled awkwardly, taking a huge step around it. Maybe this was a bad idea.
"Here." Rin said as only preamble before he threw a hoodie in your face.
You spluttered, the hoodie falling in your hands. It smelled like aftercare ointments and fresh lavender. Like Rin. Your brain shortcircuited.
"What?" Rin groused.
"Uh... nothing!" You hastily said, before stepping closer to what seemed like Rin's corner of the room.
Luckily for you, Rin's side was neat and clean, as opposed to the pigsties that were the other corners.
Hm. Maybe you could sleep right in that corner, it didn't look very comfortable, but if it was just for one night, then it shouldn't be a problem, right?
You curled up on the floor, Rin's hoodie serving as a blanket. Huh. Aside from the harsh underground, this wasn't so bad.
"What the fuck are you doing."
You sat up. "Finding a good spot?"
"This again?" Rin waved his hand. "Come up here."
Your eyes widened. Rin, infamous private person, basically a germaphobe with how averse he was to touch, invited you in his bed?
"Why do I have to say everything twice?" Rin sighed. "You're a dead giveaway there."
Ah, so that's why. You scrambled from your spot, sliding in Rin's bed, the mattress dipping under your weight.
"Are you going to use my hoodie as a plushie now?" Rin lifted an eyebrow at you.
You followed his gaze, where his clothing piece was crumbled in a ball in your fist.
Rin pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're creasing it."
He snatched his hoodie out of your hands, and pushed it over your head.
You wrought your head through the opening, lavender all around you. Your cheeks flushed at the proximity between you two.
Up this close, you could see the tiny flecks in Rin's teal eyes, the long bottom lashes that fluttered against his soft skin. The soft dip in his pink lips.
"Hopeless." He murmured, but the bite was absent.
You inhaled shakily.
At the sound, Rin snapped back to his default grumpy mode. He took the two strings and pulled.
You blinked, but before you could react, the hoodie was screwed around your face, obscuring your vision.
You spluttered, blowing a hair from your mouth as you pulled the hoodie down.
Rin's back was turned to you, his hair splayed against the pillows. His ears were red.
"Sleep." Rin commanded to the wall, his voice hoarse.
As if on cue, you let out a yawn, tucking the covers nicely around you.
It was warm in Rin's bed, but you didn't know if that was because of Rin's body warmth or his thick hoodie.
Either way, you were contented, swallowed by the surprisingly soft blankets.
"Good night."
"...Night."
You closed your eyes, and just as sleep pulled you in, you could've sworn you felt a phantom touch along your waist.
"Underlashes Junior! Wake up!" A shrill voice hollered.
"Rin Rin Rin!" A high pitched voice chanted.
"Shut the fuck up, you imbeciles." Rin rasped.
"Oi... what's that?" A finger poked your side.
Your eyes shot open.
"Licky Rin-Rin, who you got in thereee?"
That was the only warning you got, before the covers were crudely thrown away.
"What the..."
"Who's that?!" The high pitched voice shrieked.
"Ugh..." You rubbed your temples, all the shouting accumulating in a migraine-inducing headache.
"It's a woman!" The high pitched voice exclaimed, before fleeing the scene.
"Oohhh is that Rin-Rin's girlie? He drools in his sleep!"
"No I fucking don't! Get lost."
You looked to the side, and saw Rin, still tucked underneath the covers to his abdomen, donning a furious expression.
"It's our room, too, Lashes." A pink streaked blondie teased. Ah, that must be antennae fre--Shidou. "But if you want to go all explosive..." Shidou tucked his hands in his pockets, a wide grin on his face. "Then go bam!"
"No, we fucking won't. Now get out, before I kick you out, you damned leech!" Rin hissed, his hand unconsciously clenching the sheets.
"Okay, okay!" Shidou threw his hands up in a placating manner, "Straightforward, aren't you? You like a bossy man?" Shidou winked at you.
Rin's eye twitched.
"Come on, Charles, let's make some explosions!" Shidou carted Charles out of the room, who had been lurking behind a bed after he'd screamed "It's a woman!" like a caveman.
"Rin-Rin wants some alone time with his gi--"
Rin stomped out of bed, basically shoved Shidou and Charles outside, and kicked the door shut.
You watched it happen with widened eyes.
Rin dragged a hand along his face, his eyes still fuming. "Don't mind that damn freak." He swept the cover from the floor and threw it on the bed.
"You have some interesting roommates." You laughed.
"They're not interesting. They're a pain." Rin grumbled. "Let's go already before they come back."
You slid out of the bed and helped Rin arrange all the pillows and the covers, before you both left the ravaged room.
All the while, Rin didn't even look at you, quietly smoothening out the creases in the fabric.
But you looked at him.
Rin on a normal day was a treat. All sharp edges, and even sharper eyes. Posture ram-rod straight and a permanent scowl fixed on his lips.
But Rin at 6 am in the morning was a feast.
Now, he was still sharp. But dulled. His shirt was haphazardly fluttering above his sweat pants. A scowl was still on his face, but sleep had made his eyes a little softer, his hair a little more messy.
He was beautiful.
But he was breathtaking when he bid you goodbye at the entrance of Blue Lock, not quite looking at you, not quite looking away either.
"Oh, I still have yo--"
"Keep it." Rin interjected, chancing a glance at you, then immediately looking away.
"...looks good on you." He mumbled, ears pinched red. Your chest lurched.
"Alright... I guess I'll go then." You hesitatently waved a hand at him, walking away from the entrance. Rin still hadn't looked you in the eye.
But you could've sworn you felt his stare in your back, still sharp but dulled.
Softened.
Yeah. Maybe that was the best way to describe Rin, Rin who watched you walk away for who knows how long, until you were a mere stip on the horizon, until the thrumming of his frantic heart ceased.
And only after that did he turn away, his eyes softened, mellowed, holding something that looked a little bit too much like lo--
Rin abruptly turned inside.
That was a story for next time. Now, dealing with the two devil roommates seemed more pressing.
Rin sighed, mentally preparing himself for the worst.
But it had been worth it.
No, you had been worth it.
Because if a little taunting and teasing is what it took for you to walk away with Rin's hoodie and a piece of his heart, then what was all that in the face of lo--
No, nope.
He was not ready for that.
But if Rin's heart quickened even just a little, who could tell what had been the cause of it?
