#again matching with rin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rinsnumber1fan · 1 month ago

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Playing a prank on the blue lock men by leaning down when they're manspreading as if you're about to give them head but you're really just picking something off the ground.

Featuring: isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, kaiser michael, sae itoshi.

Itoshi Rin:

After seeing this trend, you puckered up your lips and squinted your eyes, glancing at your boyfriend who sat on the bed of his apartment watching a soccer game on television. You had acquired your target and locked up.

Rin was very focused on the TV screen, his eyes didn't move from there and he tapped the remote every once in a while to pause and write something down in his notebook, whilst munching on some snacks on the table infront of him. He's so focused it's almost cute. Then there was you, you had noticed one of his pens down right next to his foot.

Your plan went into action, you stretched very nonchalantly and got off your place on the couch. He didn't pay you any attention, continued writing, you took it as a sign to keep going.

You went down on your knees, he turned his eyes down and he froze for a moment when he saw you right in between his legs, your hair tickled the cloth on his thigh. His breath hitched but he prepared himself, leaning back slightly. "Y/n.." he breathed out. He even closed his eyes.. but he didn't feel your hands anywhere or.. your mouth so he flickers his eyes and peeks but when he doesn't see you down there anymore he blinks in confusion and slight irritation.

"Sorry about that, you dropped your pen." And you placed it down to his desk. He blinked slowly, "right.." murmured but he'd never admit he thought you were going to do something else.

Isagi Yoichi

He's sitting on his bed while he's doing something random. He said he wanted to cure his boredom and get interested in anything small that doesn't involve soccer. It was an experiment of his to see if he's really obsessed with soccer that he won't play or involve soccer in everything.

You were sat beside him, helping him out with the art he was doing, applying paint on his brushes as he tried to paint on a canvas for the first time and yes it looked like shit. You were.. increasingly bored. You didn't want to watch paint dry, literally. Do you came up with a plan. A master plan.

You accidently drop the paintbrush right next to isagis manspread. You lean down, and isagi flinches but he looks down at you "whats wron-" the words die in his throat when you pull your hair back and glance up at him.

"O-oh okay.. um.." He immidently turns red, leans back and places a hand on top of your head but he almost whimpers when you lean your head south. And you grab the paintbrush. He freezes. In embarrassment.

"Uh- you- what--" He stammered unable to form coherent words. And you just smiled innocently "I dropped this." You hung up the paintbrush.

Sae Itoshi

Sae was really tired, he had countless meetings with different managers to arrange different matches with him. So when he returned home to his cute girlfriend he just sat down on the couch like a dead body. An exasperated sigh leaves his mouth but he doesn't calk you, he's too tired to.

You return to the living room, offer him some water as you glance at his dead body. You knew he was tired and exhausted but.. you really wanted to have some quality time!!! So you tried everything.

From "how was work?" And he replies with a deadpanned expression "don't ask." And you smiled because you had no fucking idea if you were supposed to ask him again after that. "Want some water?" You asked him with a slightly concerned expression and he blinked "no.. thanks." WHAT NOW?!

SO you pulled the ultimate move.

The ultimate attention giver.

You had a piece of food under the bed from the takeout you ordered when sae was out. So you decided to do it. You got on your knees right infront of him and he gave the subtlest of a reaction but he spread his legs a little bit more.

His eyes were half lidded as he undid the first button of his shirt. "You couldve given me a warning or something, love." He murmured in a deep voice but you just looked up after collecting that piece, "Huh? What?" You acted all confused and sae seemed just as confused.

"Drop the act." He would urge you as you got on your feet again. But he pulled you closer by the collar, "really? A prank like that after I'm so exhausted?" He sighs. "Get on your knees" He shakes his head in slight annoyance but a little bit cocky. Your cheeks turned pink but you complied anyway.

We all know what happens after that.

Michael Kaiser.

He had his glasses on as he read some book with full attention.

When the attention should really be on you!!

He didn't even compliment you after you dressed up so prettily to come and visit his apartment. So naturally you had to resort to other means.

While he's distracted by the essence of his book, his hand circles around your head like he's patting your head, just enough to let you know my book is important so I'm gonna only pat your head.

You decided its time to use the onlt way you could to get his attention. You bent down, kneeling before him, pulling your hair back and he raises a brow, "mm? Such a good girl I didn't even have to ask--" and not even in a moment you got up and sat back down with a normal expression except with an eraser in your hand. "Huh?" You tilted your head "what are you on?" You asked again.

Kaiser blinked once twice "I thought you..." He licked his lower lip. "Nevermind.." He didn't wanna bruise his ego by mentioning he expected you to suck. But after this prank he got a lot more touchy with you. In the end, he got that blow job anyways.

Plan? Worked.

A/N: LEAVE A COMMENT PLSPLSPSLS

#fyp #blue lock #blue lock x reader #fanfiction #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin x reader #sae itoshi #sae x reader #isagi x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #itoshi sae #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock smut #prank

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your-decay · 1 month ago

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pairings: isagi yoichi x reader, bachira meguru x reader, nagi seishiro x reader, itoshi rin x reader (all separate) cw: smut, panty stealing, oral (female receiving), no usage of condoms, implied overstimulation.

isagi yoichi and jerking off with your panties before a game,

it’s criminal, really — how easily you slipped them into his palm, the delicate wisp of lace bunched between his calloused fingers like a silent promise. he should’ve had the discipline to pocket them, pretend it hadn’t happened until after the match. but no — instead he’s rutting himself against the soft, already damp fabric in some secluded locker room stall, forehead pressed against the cool wall, one arm braced as his hips twitch and grind down desperately. his flushed, leaky tip smearing pearly white pre against the costly, likely imported material. and in that hazy moment, he truly can’t decide what’s worse: the slow ruin of your panties, or the filthy, unspeakable thrill that you wanted him to have them. that you’d snuck them into his hand like some perverse gift, knowing exactly what he’d do with them. the thought alone has his stomach knotting and his voice catching in a low, guttural groan, hips stuttering in desperate, pathetic need.

bachira meguru and his infatuation with your arousal,

it’s obscene. sick, even. the way his golden eyes glint when you’re spread out before him, arousal glistening like some liquid sin. he acts like a man starved, tongue darting out to lap up every drop with shameless abandon. you watch as he humps against the mattress, the motion clumsy and eager, his mouth still greedily sucking at the slick he’s gathered, throat working around it with a pleased, muffled moan. it’s not enough for him to just have you — no, bachira’s obsession is in the taste, the smell, the way your body betrays you for him. he’ll press his thumb to your clit, not to please you properly, but just to watch your essence ooze out, thin strings clinging to his skin like spun sugar. and the grin he wears? crooked, unhinged, like he’s drunk on you and high off every shiver, every gasp, every filthy sound you make for him.

nagi seishiro and the mean matting presses he puts you in,

it starts innocent enough — or as innocent as it can when he’s already got you face down, ass up, eyes bleary and hands fisted in the sheets. but nagi is lazy by nature, and halfway through those slow, grinding thrusts, he decides it’s too much effort to hold himself up. so he drops all his weight onto you, one arm hooking around your waist to keep you pinned as his hips continue their relentless, shallow rolls. the sheer, overwhelming girth of him makes your breath hitch and your body jolt against the mattress, whimpers muffled by the pillow. behind you, his voice is low, breathy, thick with hazy pleasure. “‘s good… jus’ stay—still,” he slurs against your skin, teeth grazing your shoulder. it’s unintentional cruelty, the way he fills you to the brim and holds you there, too heavy, too deep, leaving you trembling and ruined beneath him.

itoshi rin and his flushed sensitive tip,

the second he steps through the door, sweaty from training, tension thick in his shoulders — he wants it. not dinner. not sleep. just your hand wrapped around him, squeezing, coaxing, making him unravel. his onyx hair spills across the pillow, pretty pink lips parted, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. every stroke of your fingers drags beads of slick pre down your palm, the head of his cock so sensitive he shudders with every pass. he’s pliant like this — needy. eyes glazed, lashes fluttering. and your words? the quiet, syrupy praises you murmur against the shell of his ear? they shatter him. “did so good today,” you whisper, “so proud of you, rin.” his adam’s apple bobs on a thick swallow, a broken moan caught in his throat. the praise, the tender way you say it, feeds something primal in him — so much so he’d willingly let himself come undone at your hands again and again if it meant hearing it. if it meant being good for you.

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celabi · 1 month ago

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𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐎

sae + kaiser + shidou + ness + rin + isagi + nagi + reo x f reader

sae makes the bed before he leaves.

he wakes up early. before the sun, before the world stirs, before even the first of his four alarms has the chance to buzz. he’s built like that, disciplined with every second accounted for. training waits for no one, and sae itoshi doesn’t wait either.

he moves quietly in the mornings, all silent footsteps and half lidded yawns, the kind of stillness that comes from years of knowing exactly what needs to be done. his body remembers before his mind even catches up, coffee, stretches, get dressed.

but you, of course, are the exception to every one of his carefully constructed habits. the small detour in his list.

you’re still sprawled across the bed like a starfish, half wrapped in the duvet, cheek squished into his pillow with your mouth slightly open. your hair’s a mess, your legs are a messier tangle of limbs, and you’re wearing one of his hoodies that he brought three sizes too big.

you look ridiculous. soft and adorable, and sae hates how much it makes his heart ache.

he lets you sleep. he always lets you sleep.

but he also makes the bed every morning. no excuses. no matter what. even with you in it.

“move,” he murmurs, already tugging on one corner of the blanket, patting your hip with a touch that’s way gentler than his tone. “lift up.”

you groan, something inhuman and definitely not a real word. he sighs like this happens every morning. because it does.

“you’re drooling on my pillow. again.”

your hand flops up to smear half across your mouth, shielding your shame while you roll sluggishly to the side. sae takes the opportunity, quickly so you can resume your sleep, to fluff the pillow, tug the sheets flat, and fold a corner of the comforter neatly under your waist like a hotel staffer who somehow fell into domestic life.

“turn this way,” he mutters, nudging your shoulder. “no, the other way. blanket’s uneven.”

he’s all low grumbles and soft touches, moving you around like you’re made of glass. a frown tugs at his lips the whole time, but his hands are gentle, straightening and smoothing over the fabric like it matters more than it should.

when you’re finally cocooned the way he likes, snug, somewhat symmetrical, warm, he leans in and presses a quiet kiss to your temple. “sleep. i’ll be back before lunch.”

your voice is barely a whisper, slurred with sleep, muffled by the pillow. “bring food.”

he scoffs under his breath. “as long as you don’t get crumbs in my bed.”

you always do.

and he always brings your favorite snack anyway.

kaiser brings flowers for the whole family.

it started the first time he came over.

michael kaiser, self proclaimed egoist, golden boy of the field, the kind of guy who walked like the world owed him something and smiled like he already had it all, showed up at your front door with three bouquets in hand.

not one. not two. three.

he stood there like it was the most casual thing ever, shoulder leaned against the frame, grin a little too cocky, hair perfectly messy like he’d spent forever making it look like he didn’t try.

the first bouquet was for you, obviously. he handed it over with a dramatic little bow and a wink, the arrangement bold and romantic, soft pink peonies nestled between full, velvety red roses, tied together with a satin ribbon. classic. a little flashy, sure, but unmistakably him. he watched your expression like it was a match he was trying to win, waiting for your eyes to light up. and they did.

but then he straightened up and pulled out the second bouquet. a softer one, lavender, baby’s breath, white tulips. no over the top color this time, and handed it, with an almost sheepish smirk, to your mom.

“figured it’d be rude to only bring flowers for the prettiest girl here,” he said smoothly, voice dipped in charm. “so i brought some for the queen, too.”

your mom had blinked, surprised, and then laughed, soft and flustered while taking them from him and running off to find a vase.

and the third? that one was the smallest. the wrapping paper was cartoon themed, covered in stars and hearts. inside was tiny pops of bright color, mini sunflowers, marigolds, something dyed blue that probably wasn’t natural but was meant to be fun.

he crouched in front of your little sister to hand it to her directly, grinning that crooked, boyish grin that made him look five years younger.

“for the cutest princess i’ve ever seen.” he told her like it was a secret just for her. and when she covered her face and squealed, he only laughed and ruffled her hair, gentle and playful.

after that, it became routine.

evey time he came over, three beautiful bouquets.

he never made a show of it. didn’t brag, didn’t explain. he just slipped inside like he belonged there, bouquets in one hand, the other reaching for yours, eyes glinting with that same effortless confidence. like it was normal to charm your entire household on the way to your heart.

you’d tease him sometimes, grinning as you passed him in the hallway, whispering under your breath, “trying to win the whole family, michael?”

and he’d kiss your forehead, hands curling around your waist as he leaned in close enough that only you could hear him say,

“i already won yours. just making sure the rest of the kingdom approves.”

shidou paints your nails.

well, he demands to paint your nails. bursts into your room with a giant tote bag slung over his shoulder, overflowing with nail polish bottles, rhinestones in tiny plastic cases, glitter, mini uv lamps, and like, five different top coats he doesn’t even need. he’s grinning like he just looted a beauty supply store and got away with it. like you’re his first client of the day and he’s booked out until next year.

“sit,” he commands, plopping onto the floor and patting his lap like it’s your throne. “it’s nail day, baby.”

you eye him warily, climbing down off the bed anyway. it’s shidou, after all, loud, explosive, a walking red flag with more red cards than you can count. chaos is in his blood. if anyone was going to spill nail polish on the carpet or glue rhinestones to your elbow by accident, it’d be him.

but the second you settle in his lap, legs across his, hands offered out in front of you like an offering, he changes.

his voice quiets. his grin softens.

he picks out a color, sometimes asking, sometimes deciding for you, and his brows pull together in focus as he opens the bottle. he holds your fingers delicately, like they’re something fragile, his thumb resting beneath yours while his other hand starts to paint.

and he’s good. surprisingly good. sure, his hands still twitch sometimes, years of high speed tackles and clenched fists leaving their mark, but his grip is steady when it counts. the polish goes on smooth, not a single smudge. and when you move, even just a little, maybe to breathe, maybe to say something, he immediately clicks his tongue.

“stop moving,” he mumbles, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. “i’m trying to make you pretty.”

you lift a brow at him. “i’m already pretty.”

he snorts, but doesn’t look up. “duh. i’m just making you even more pretty.”

every time, he makes sure your nails match his, down to the last detail.

once it was matte black with silver tips. another time, pastel pink with little hearts he painstakingly dotted on with a toothpick. one week it was neon green flames and he called it your “power couple arc,” posing dramatically in front of your mirror like the two of you were about to drop a mixtape.

when he finishes, he always holds your hands up like they’re sacred. like he’s unveiling a work of art. his art.

“damn, we look good,” he says, eyes shining as he admires your matching sets. “wanna go push people over at the skating rink?”

you laugh. because how could you not?

and then he kisses your fingers, soft, almost gently, like the same mouth hasn’t yelled at a ref for twenty minutes or talked shit to half his team.

because yeah, shidou is a menace. reckless and violent and so unpredictable.

but when it’s just you and him, tangled up on the floor with glitter all over his sweatpants and your nails drying in the lamplight, he’s just a boy who likes painting your nails.

ness is always touching you.

dating him means you’re never really alone. not even for a second.

he doesn’t like space. not when it comes to you. even in silence, even when there’s no conversation to fill the gaps, his hands always find their way back to you, like they’re on autopilot, like his body’s forgotten how to exist without yours tethered to it.

you could be lying on the couch, half asleep, curled up on his chest while something plays on the tv that neither of you are really watching. the light flickers, scenes change, but his attention isn’t on the screen. it’s on the way your breathing evens out, the soft weight of your body against his, the warmth that seeps into his skin just from having you close.

and without hesitation, without even thinking, his hand slips beneath your shirt, not for anything suggestive. no teasing, no games. just to feel you. to trace slow, sleepy little circles against your spine with the pads of his fingers, like memorizing the shape of you helps him stay sane.

he always hums when he does it, something low and almost tuneless, head resting against yours, his eyes falling shut like he could fall asleep right then and there. because in that moment, you’re his. his anchor. his whole world slowed down into something soft and manageable.

out in public, he’s no different.

you’re standing in the middle of the freezer aisle at the store, trying to compare the price of two different brands of fish fingers, and ness is behind you, pressed flush against your back like he belongs there. both arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and then, as if that’s not close enough, he slides his hands into the pockets of your coat, lacing his fingers with yours even through the fabric.

“it’s cold…” he whispers, mouth brushing your ear, breath warm against your skin. but you know better. he’s not cold. he just missed touching you. he always does.

you barely flinch. you don’t even look up. because this? this is just ness being ness.

he gets twitchy when he can’t touch you.

not in a dramatic way, he doesn’t whine or throw a tantrum, but he fidgets. tugs gently at your sleeve, loops a finger through your belt, reaches for the hem of your hoodie and walks behind you with his hand curled in the fabric like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t keep that small connection.

he doesn’t say it, but you feel it. in every little squeeze. every tug. every time he absentmindedly rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, over and over and over.

and yeah, it’s cute. mostly.

a little clingy. a little possessive. maybe even too much, depending on who you ask.

you’ve caught him glaring at strangers before. people who bump into you too hard, who stare too long, who so much as brush against your shoulder in a crowd. he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a scene, but the way his jaw tightens, the way his grip on your hand gets firmer, it’s all there.

but then you look up at him and you smile. and all that tension melts.

because for him, nothing else matters when you’re smiling.

sometimes, completely out of nowhere, when his hand is resting on your hip or just under the hem of your shirt, he’ll whisper, “don’t pull away.”

his voice is soft, almost pleading.

“just let me hold you. please.”

and there’s something in it, something unspoken. like he really believes you’ll vanish if he lets go. like the world spins too fast and you’re the only thing that keeps him steady.

but you don’t mind.

because every circle he draws on your back with his fingertip, every hand slipped into your coat pocket, every gentle touch when no one’s looking, it’s his way of saying he loves you.

over and over again.

rin always buys you snacks.

his shopping cart always looks like a weird battle between someone who takes their training dead seriously and someone who eats like they’ve been left unattended in a convenience store.

he knows what he needs to buy as be steers through the aisles. he just grabs what he needs, checks the labels for protein content and sugar, and tosses it into the cart without checking the pricing.

protein powder that smells like chemicals but costs as much as three cartons of eggs. those energy drinks with ridiculous names like “focus rage” or “max charge” or “ultra zero venom”, like they’re going to give him superpowers. packs of plain grilled chicken. greek yogurt with zero fat, zero sugar, zero fun. rows of protein bars with chalky textures and flavor names that sound like lies.

he doesn’t even blink at the bland tastes. he just stocks up like a soldier prepping for war.

and then, every time, like it’s muscle memory, right before he heads to the checkout, he stops. just for a second.

his hand is on the cart handle, foot already starting to turn, but he doesn’t move. his eyes flick sideways toward the snack aisle.

he doesn’t sigh, doesn’t make much of a show of it. just slowly veers the cart over like it’s no big deal, like he didn’t just change course because something reminded him of you, and he’ll know you’ll get that craving at 2am when he’s trying to sleep.

and without a word, he reaches out and grabs the loudest, most obnoxiously colored bag of corn chips he can find. your favorite kind. the ones that leave orange dust on your fingers and taste like plastic and artificial flavouring. not baked, definitely not healthy, not even pretending to be good for you.

he doesn’t check the label, doesn’t pretend he might share them. he just tosses them into the cart along with all his high performance, peak athlete fuel like they belong there.

when back at his apartment, he unloads everything with his usual stiffness. lines up the cold stuff in the fridge like a little army, all color coded, and pushes the pantry door closed with his foot.

and then he sets the bag of chips on your side of the table. doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at you. just leaves them there, half buried under a bag of rice and a carton of eggs.

you always smile. sometimes say “thanks.” sometimes kiss his cheek. he always shrugs like it’s nothing.

“you forget to buy them,” he mutters, barely above a whisper. “so i remembered.”

his face stays neutral, but his ears go a little pink.

and that’s it. that’s all he says.

because he won’t admit it, not out loud. not yet. but he notices what you like. he pays attention, even when it looks like he’s not. and he remembers, every single time.

isagi dresses up nice for you.

he had always been a “throw on whatever’s clean” kind of guy. oversized hoodies, plain t shirts, soccer pants with grass stains, and the same pair of sneakers he wore everywhere, rain or shine. it wasn’t that he didn’t care about how he looked, he just never thought it mattered all that much. clothes were just… clothes. something to cover him up so he could get to practice, or the store, or wherever he needed to be without getting cold.

but that changed after he started dating you.

he still remembers one of your first dates. he showed up in his usual chill outfit, gray hoodie, joggers, no real thought behind it, and then he saw you. standing there waiting for him, looking like something out of a movie. skin glowing in the late afternoon light, your clothes were cute and put together, your scent soft and sweet as you leaned in for a hug.

and in that moment, isagi felt… underdressed. painfully so. like a side character in someone else’s story. like he didn’t belong next to you.

you didn’t say anything about it. you were warm and kind, smiling like nothing was wrong, but his mind kept spinning. you were beautiful, and he wanted to match you. not because you ever asked him to, not because you cared about status or outfits or brands, but because he wanted to show you that you mattered. that being with you made him want to try. to be better. to be the kind of guy you could look at and think, yeah, he’s mine.

so, he started putting in effort.

slowly, at first. a nicer shirt. jeans that actually fit right. sneakers that weren’t torn up. he started googling “casual date outfits” at midnight and watching tutorials on how to style his hair. he’d stand in front of the mirror, fiddling with a comb for twenty minutes, trying to get it to lay just right.

when he overheard you telling someone that clear lip gloss looked cute on guys, he went out and bought one, hiding it in his drawer like it was some deep secret. he dabbed on a little cologne, just enough to smell good if you got close, but not too strong. he didn’t want to overdo it, he just wanted you to notice.

and the first time he showed up like that, button down shirt, clean black slacks, his hair actually styled, you blinked at him in surprise. your eyes lit up, and then you smiled, all warm and soft and proud.

“you look good.” you said, reaching out to straighten his collar.

he ducked his head immediately, ears turning pink, mumbling something like “it’s nothing,” but inside, his heart was pounding. your smile made all the fuss worth it. suddenly, all those minutes in front of the mirror didn’t feel stupid at all.

now, every time you two go out, he shows up looking polished. still isagi, but cleaned up in a way that’s intentional. for you. always for you. he pretends it’s no big deal, says things like “i just threw this on,” but you always catch him peeking at your face when you first see him, like he’s searching for that spark in your eyes. that little smile. that approval.

did you notice? did you think he looked good?

because for you, he wants to be someone you can be proud of. someone who fits beside you in every way.

someone who shows, even in the smallest things, just how much he cares.

nagi has you on his lap while he games.

he’s never really been the type to share. not his snacks, especially not the good ones he stashed behind the cereal boxes. not his phone charger, unless you pried it out of his hands. and definitely not his gaming setup, which he treated with the kind of care usually reserved for sacred artifacts. it was his zone. . his quiet, comfy little world where he didn’t have to talk too much or try too hard.

but you? you were the one exception to every rule he ever made.

the first time it happened, you thought he was messing around. he was already slouched in his chair, headset tilted halfway off his head, finger idly clicking through a loading screen when he looked up and said, “c’mere,” voice low and lazy, like he couldn’t be bothered to speak louder. he pat his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world, and when you hesitated, he just gave a soft, drawn out sigh, tugged you gently down into his arms like you were made to be there.

your legs fit across his, his arm curling loosely around your waist. he didn’t pause his game, didn’t adjust anything, just held you, controller still in one hand like it was second nature now, like you were part of the setup.

after that, it became a routine. when he booted up his system, he’d automatically tilt the mic so it could catch both your voices. if his teammates were being annoying, talking too much, playing like idiots, he’d lean close and murmur, “angel, tell them they suck.” like he couldn’t be bothered to do it himself.

and you would. all smiles and giggles. “yo, you guys are actual trash. maybe click the uninstall button?”

he’d laugh every time, breathy and slow, and mute the mic just long enough to nuzzle into your shoulder and mumble, “so cute…” like he was falling asleep mid sentence, voice warm and soft, laced with affection only you got to hear.

when it came to crate openings, he always passed you the mouse. didn’t matter if it was a rare drop, or some ultra limited skin he’d been saving up for. didn’t matter if you had terrible luck or if you accidentally clicked the wrong tier. he didn’t even blink. he’d just lean back, cheek pressed against your shoulder, arms still draped around your waist, and say something like, “your hands are lucky… or maybe i just like watching you click stuff… dunno.”

sometimes he’d half doze like that, head tilted against you while the screen lit up with explosions and loot animations, his breathing slow and silent, but if you shifted too far or started to get up, he’d whine just a little, pulling you back down with cold fingers.

“…don’t go. you’re comfy.. stay.”

and even in the middle of intense matches, when he was wide awake and locked in, his touch never left you. one hand still on the controller, the other resting under your shirt, palm flat against the warmth of your skin. not in a dirty way, just there. soft and real.

“kinda makes me play better when you’re here,” he mumbled once, voice soft and muffled against your shoulder, like he was confessing a secret he didn’t know how to say out loud. he’s never been good with words. “feels easier. like… mm, dunno. just nicer.”

he was lazy, slow, always halfasleep, like the world was asking too much of him.

but when you were in his lap, calling out his kills and opening his crates, he didn’t mind putting in the effort. not for the game.

for you. always for you.

reo makes you give him a fashion show.

his favorite tradition, one he swears he’ll never get tired of, is the post shopping fashion show.

it happens every time. you come back from a shopping trip (usually with him), arms weighed down by sleek black bags with gold embossed logos, the kind of bags that make people stare. reo always takes them from you, grinning like a kid on christmas morning, but the second you’re inside his apartment, his spacious, sunlit, and stupidly expensive apartment, he flops onto the couch like he just ran a marathon.

he spreads out like a king. one arm slung over the back of the couch, legs wide, designer hoodie riding up just a little at his waist. he’s already got his phone out, camera app open, thumb hovering over the screen. his purple eyes are lazy but lit up, amusement curling at his lips.

“alright, babe,” he says, voice smooth and teasing, like he’s about to be spoiled. “impress me.”

and god, you always do.

you step out of his room wearing the first outfit, tags still on, fabric clinging in all the right places. before you can even say anything, the camera shutter starts going off, reo already leaning forward, angling his phone, snapping pictures like he’s backstage at fashion week.

“yeahhh,” he breathes, grinning, “that’s the one. wear that next week when i take you to dinner.”

you try to act nonchalant, rolling your eyes, adjusting a cuffs, but he catches the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. because he’s not playing around, not at all. he hypes you up with that soft, easy charm of his. not loud, not fake. just warm, like he genuinely believes you’re the most beautiful thing in the world and wants to make sure you know it too.

sometimes he puts his phone down. doesn’t say anything for a second, just watches you. his cheek resting on his knuckles, that dreamy, love struck look stealing over his face. the one he never bothers to hide.

“you look good in literally everything,” he says quietly, eyes dragging down your body and back up again. “like unfair good. how’d i get so lucky?”

you laugh, try to brush it off, but he’s already grabbing the phone again.

“wait, turn around,” he says, gesturing. “let me see the back. yeah, there, hold that pose.”

he takes photos of every look. seriously. all of them. he saves them in a locked album on his phone, titles it something stupid like “my baby’s runway”, and scrolls through it when you’re not around. sometimes he’ll set one as his lockscreen and just smile every time it lights up. doesn’t even try to hide it.

“i’m gonna frame this one,” he tells you one night, holding up a blurry pic of you mid spin, laughing in one of his designer jackets. “i’m serious. right next to my diplomas.”

you roll your eyes, but he just shrugs, like it makes perfect sense.

“fashion week could never,” he says, stretching out again, watching you disappear into the bedroom for your next change. “this is your week. every week is your week.”

he’s cocky, yeah. always has been. rich, too, old money, trust funds, family estate and all that. but with you, none of it’s about flexing. it’s not about showing off what he has. it’s about showing off you. because he’s proud. because he loves you. because you’re his favorite view in the world, no matter what you’re wearing.

but he’s not complaining when it’s a little tight, a little short, a little dangerous.

he just grins, leans back, and says, “how am i supposed to let you leave the house dressed like that?”

spoiler, he doesn’t.

2K notes · View notes

theresatzu · 2 months ago

Text

Blue Lock characters and the pretty interviewer

Pairings. Blue Lock character x reader

Starring.//Isagi Yoichi//Bachira Meguru //Itoshi Rin//Michael Kaiser//

Tags. fluff//future fic//interview

Isagi Yoichi

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗Nervous mess all the way

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗Stammers when asked questions

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗Keeps stealing glances at you, but it's literally so obvious, it's painful

"So, Isagi-san, what did you think of today's match's outcome?" You asked, turning to him.

Isagi , who had been silently glancing at you, flinched, his eyebrows shooting upwards, cheeks turning an adorable pink.

"Uh... me?" He pointed at himself, looking very much like a dear caught in clear daylight.

"Yes, you." You chuckled.

At your slight laughter, Isagi went even more red.

"Oh... uh, it was great. Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you.

When you inclined your head to continue, Isagi 's mind went blank.

He blurted, "I think you're really pretty."

You shot him a confused look.

"UH, I mean, the match went pretty. Pretty well." He poorly corrected himself.

You eyed him amusedly. "Oh? Care to share some of your insight for your adoring fans?"

"My... insight?" Isagi repeated, a little breathless.

Because it was warm. Because he was warm. From the match.

(The match had already concluded three hours prior).

"Uhm... there were some really good... uh... plays." Isagi answered, stealing a glance at you, only to see that you were already looking at him.

His eyes widened, darting away. "And... uh..." What the hell was he even talking about? "Rin had some nice saves."

"Rin?" You tilted your head, "He wasn't in today's match, was he?"

"Oh! Oh." Isagi's lips parted, his eyes flicking from left to right to come up with an answer.

"Uh... I meant... he would have made a few good saves if he were in the game. You know... with uhm..." He faltered.

You nodded at him, beckoning him to continue, eyes attentively set on him. Isagi swallowed arduously.

His throat ran dry. Isagi coughed.

The silence stretched on.

He had to answer, now.

But with what? Rin with... with what?!

You were still looking at him, eyes expectant and so pretty-

"Pretty eyes." Isagi blurted out.

You frowned, confusion on your face. "Pretty eyes?"

Isagi went bright red. He could hear Bachira next to him shaking, doing a poor job of concealing his gleeful cackles at Isagi's predicament.

"Uh... did I say pretty eyes?" Isagi chuckled. It was strained and awkward.

"What I meant to say was... uh... predator's vision? Like when... when your vision of the field becomes really limited, you know?" He finished rather lamely.

"...Yeah." You slowly nodded your head, eyeing him with a mix of befuddlement and concern.

Then you turned to Bachira next to him, and Isagi could breathe a little bit easier. Though, his heartbeat didn't settle down, his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Keep it together, Isagi. He said to himself. He was a goddamn world class footballer. He didn't do nervosity.

He had faced off Itoshi Rin and survived.

He had led Japan to the World Cup and carved his name in the football world.

He had become the top striker of his generation.

There was no way he was going to start being nervous now.

But he still felt his heart doing a little jump every time you looked at him.

Bachira Meguru

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Just sits close to you, his eyes barely leaving you

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗Thinks every question is directed at him

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗Is just one ball of sunshine, especially when your attention is on him

"So... Isagi-san, what is your opinion about how Japan has thus far fared in the World Cup?"

"Oh, well I think--"

"We're doing amazing! Did you see my super special dribble?" Bachira excitedly interjected.

"Dude." Isagi nudged him, an unimpressed expression on his face. "That was my question."

"Oh! Oh." Bachira deflated, sitting back again.

You chuckled. "Don't worry Bachira-san, you'll get the next one."

Bachira's eyes lit up at that, but they dwindled when you directed your attention on Isagi again.

Isagi began talking again. Bachira leaned back in his seat.

He bounced his leg impatiently, Isagi's thorough analysis on Japan's performance fading into the background.

Bachira's eyes flicked to yours, his bottom lip jutting out a little when you actually seemed captivated in Isagi's story.

Bachira eyed the two of you suspiciously, noting that Isagi was also sitting the closest to you.

Pursing his lips, Bachira stood up.

Isagi shot him a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"This seat is uncomfortable. Can I sit there?"

Bachira pointed at Isagi.

You let out a snort. "You want to sit on Isagi's lap?"

Isagi guffawed, going bright red. "PR, PR!" He hissed at Bachira. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Move!" Bachira whispered back.

"Wait, what? Wha--" Isagi yelped as Bachira shoved him aside.

With a straight face, Bachira sat down, not even looking at Isagi, who was on the ground, mouth hanging wide open.

"Dude."

Bachira tactfully ignored Isagi, flashing you a bright grin, as if nothing had occurred in the past few seconds.

"You wanted to ask me a question?"

Itoshi Rin

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ He's really quiet during the interview, like, he'll answer questions, but just the bare minimum.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Avoids eye contact like the plague, but he'll try to steal a look at you the moment your gaze is elsewhere

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ When he's caught looking, he'll freeze up, scowl fixed on his face. But if you look closely, you can see that the tips of his ears have turned a handsome red

"So, Rin-san, how did you think the match went?"

Rin's face was stoic, looking at the cement wall behind you.

"...It went well."

"You've scored a magnificent goal during the game, how did you pull that off?"

"...Just predicting the game and being in the right position."

Rin sighed, glancing to the side. Looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.

A tense silence fell.

You coughed, forcing a strained smile on your face.

"Rin." Isagi made a face at him. Rin raised an eyebrow.

You chuckled awkwardly, shuffling your cards. Were there any questions left?

With the way Rin had curtly and concisely answered the questions, you had rushed through the interview, with no more inquiries at hand.

It was clear Rin wasn't in the mood to field any questions: clear avoidance of direct eye contact, standoffish demeanour, and closed-off answers.

They were all tell-tale signs that Rin was itching to just leave.

You sighed, heart sinking in your chest.

You had been hoping to hold this interview with Rin since months now, being an avid admirer of his intricate playstyle and his tactics on the field.

However, it seemed that the sentiment wasn't returned.

"Well, I guess we'll wrap it up for today," You said, hiding the disappointment in your voice.

You looked up from your cards to say goodbye to both Isagi and Rin.

Your eyes met teal, irridescent ones.

Rin's eyes were dazed, a soft edge to them. A stark contrast to the cold look in them during the interview.

You tilted your head curiously.

Noticing you looking, Rin's eyebrows rose. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a flustered look flashing in them, lips parting slightly.

He looked away, jaw tensed, and the moment was over.

Your eyebrows went high, intrigue welling up.

...Or maybe the sentiment was returned.

It was in the minute details, you assumed.

When Isagi nudged Rin playfully, shooting a knowing grin his way, which maybe meant Rin tolerated you, that was only an assumption.

When Rin's ears turned a lovely red when he looked at you, that was also only an assumption.

But when you shook Rin's hand, and looked him in the eye, that was only confirmation.

Michael Kaiser

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Flirts. Charms. Is not professional at all. "Accidentally" lets diminutives slip.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Either answers questions about himself in a cocky manner, or is the one asking you the questions.

"So, Kaiser, in the last match, you managed to pull off a move called the "Magnus Impact", how did you do that?"

"Well..." Kaiser said, a confident quirk to his lips, "It's an unparalleled move of mine, and it paid off." He answered simply.

Then, he shifted, leaning his head on his arm, his eyes shooting to yours. "But what about you? How did you pull off that good look of yours?"

You choked.

"Wha--?" Your eyes went wide, spluttering.

Excuse me?"

Kaiser leaned in, his finger brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch leaving goosebumps on your skin.

"I know that my Magnus Impact is based off on my pure talent. I'm guessing your lovely look is natural, too, no?"

"Oh-- uhm..." You didn't know what to say. "I... guess?"

Kaiser hummed, leaning back in his seat again. "Thought so."

When the proximity between you two lessened, you let out a breath, quickly fixing your eyes on your question paper.

However, unbeknownst to you, Kaiser was still looking at you, eyes roaming over your features, a pensive expression on his face.

"Though, why did you choose to pursue this interview career of yours? You could've easily made the highway, Schätzchen."

"Huh?" Your head shot up from your cards.

"Mhm... lovely smile, natural blush, mesmerising eyes. And above all, a charming personality." Kaiser winked at you.

"Oh... uhm, I--" Didn't know what to answer. "Thanks?"

Kaiser let out a handsome chuckle, pushing the bangs out of his face. "Liebe, no need to thank me for your attractiveness, I'm only calling attention to the objective facts."

Your face went red.

"Though, if I might share my subjective opinion," Kaiser said, voice teetering on low.

"I'd say you're the prettiest girl I've ever met." His voice was barely above a whisper, a teasing edge to it.

The air was punched out of your lungs.

What in the Wattpad was happening?

"Uhm..." You cleared your throat. "While I do appreciate your compliments about my... looks, let's keep it professional, shall we?"

Kaiser smiled slightly, before nodding. "Whatever the lady wants. Fire away any questions you want to ask." The corners of his lips quirked upwards.

You inclined your head, shuffling through your cards.

Kaiser tilted his head,chancing a glance at your cards, an amused undertone to his voice. "Though, only professional ones."

A flush overtook your features.

The rest of the interview went swimmingly.

Kaiser expressed in detailed display his opinion and was consistent in his answers, so it came as no surprise that you could wrap up your interview early.

"Well, that went fast." You said in a surprised tone.

You stuck out your hand. "Thank you so much for your time, Kaiser."

A smile played on Kaiser's lips. "The pleasure was all mine."

You turned around to leave, but fingers gently clasped around your wrist, lightly tugging you back.

You came face to face with Kaiser.

"Oh... hi?"

"Hi." He said softly. "You have some time left?"

You checked your watch. You had a break scheduled now, so yeah.

You nodded.

Kaiser sat back down, gesturing for you to do the same.

Obliging, you retook your seat, a confused look in your eyes.

Kaiser leaned back in his chair.

You eyed him, puzzled.

"Well?" Kaiser tilted one eyebrow. "Don't tell me you don't have any questions for me, miss Journalist."

"...questions?" You repeated.

A handsome grin flitted on Kaiser's lips, he raised his eyebrows, his eyes falling on your cards.

"I... alright, but I'll have to go in an hour." You conceded, not wanting to pass up on this opportunity.

Kaiser tilted his head. "Whatever the lady wants. Fire away any question you have."

Your eyes widened, giving him an inquiring look.

"...unproffesional ones are allowed, too." Kaiser drawled.

Your face went up in flames.

Masterlist

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kxsagi · 2 months ago

Note

hihi can i request how the media would react if they found out the bllk boys were married (itoshi brothers, kaiser, and whoever else you want)

ty, have a good day/night

“#𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐲𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬”

a/n: this is a whole new idea and i love it! also thank you, have a good day/night as well!!!

a/n #2: who let them get married (and how do i get that lucky)

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, karasu tabito

itoshi rin

the world stops spinning when it leaks that rin married you. nobody can compute it. no one.

he’s trending #1 globally with hashtags like #rinwifereveal #iceprincetaken.

confused fans everywhere are asking the real questions: “how did he propose if he only speaks in death threats?”

old clips of rin ignoring interviewers go viral again: “this man?? THIS MAN found a WIFE???”

his agency posts a really dry statement like: “itoshi rin is married. he will continue his professional activities as usual.”

the comments are gold – you getting praised like some mythological heroine: “if you married rin itoshi and lived to tell the tale, you deserve a national holiday.”

when asked about you at a press conference, rin’s response is peak rin: “it’s none of your business.”

but people notice he wears his wedding ring 24/7 and once smiled (barely) when someone said “your wife,” and fans LOST it.

you are now officially worshiped as the woman who melted the glacier.

itoshi sae

the media genuinely thinks it’s a typo when they find out sae married you. like itoshi sae??? able to love someone other than a soccer ball??? there’s no way he had the social skills for marriage.

headlines are so petty: “itoshi sae ties the knot: sources unsure if he even likes people.”

the sports tabloids zoom into old clips of him smirking mid-match like: “he must’ve been thinking about his wife 🫢”

memes explode overnight: “you: babe, can you smile for the wedding pics? sae: raises one eyebrow slightly”

your first public sighting together is chaotic. he’s pushing a grocery cart with a dead-eyed look while you’re happily picking snacks.

paparazzi snap a blurry photo, and boom: “breaking: itoshi sae domesticated.”

he literally never posts you (for privacy reasons), but when you post a picture of him cuddling you while half-asleep, fans combust: “WAIT he’s a softie for her ONLY???? iconic behavior.”

kaiser michael

he announces your marriage like a mic drop. the german media especially loses their minds.

posts a wedding photo with you on instagram, captioned: “still undefeated. married the hottest woman alive.”

media outlets around the world are scrambling to write articles fast enough.

magazines call you "the only trophy kaiser cares about.”

he does interviews where he says stuff like: “yeah, she’s my best win yet.”

every fan either: 1) cries about losing their delusions, or 2) makes memes of you carrying kaiser bridal-style after his matches.

during games, opponents will yell at him: “your wife’s watching, pretty boy!”

and kaiser just smirks, scores, and points to you in the stands like he’s in a movie.

you literally make him even cockier. he’s insufferable. but also hot about it.

isagi yoichi

the media basically short-circuits when they find out you’re married to him. like, nice boy next door isagi? married already???

they treat it like a scandal: “in today’s shocking development, yoichi isagi – japan’s golden boy – is officially off the market. hearts across the world have shattered.”

twitter is in absolute shambles: “NO WAY isagi’s MARRIED. i thought he was married to FOOTBALL 😭”

and you? you’re just living your best life, chilling while isagi is out here holding your hand proudly at press events like you’re his MVP.

he’s answering interviews all starry-eyed: “yeah! i love my wife! she’s the real reason i win games.”

you even get your own nickname in the press: "japan’s first lady of football.”

whenever you post a picture together, comments are like: “she’s the real endgame. we lost, but we lost to a queen 😭👑”

bachira meguru

everyone immediately falls in love with you, too. like, duh. you’re the perfect match for chaotic sunshine incarnate.

bachira’s announcement? just a pic of you both wearing matching crocs, captioned: “leveled up 💍🎮💖”

every comment is crying about how cute it is.

fans imagine the proposal like: “if i score 3 goals today, will you marry me? 😜”

he makes finger hearts at you from the field. sometimes he even dabs after scoring because you dared him to.

sports anchors have to explain “dab celebrations” on national TV now because of you two.

people call you “his player 2” and it’s so iconic that a brand tries to sponsor you both for matching gamer jerseys.

mikage reo

the media is CONVINCED it was some sort of billionaire merger. tabloids lose their minds speculating about your “secret heiress” identity.

but really? you’re just you. you married reo because he’s a clingy, golden retriever boy that genuinely loves you and treats you well.

he’s so defensive about it in interviews: “it’s not about money!! she’s literally perfect, end of discussion.”

still, fans are clowning: “reo mikage gave up his entire inheritance for his wife. love wins 😭”

reo keeps trying to pretend your life together is “normal” but then slips up like: “yeah, we took the jet to brunch lol.”

you constantly remind him not to flex, but it’s a losing battle. he just loves spoiling you too much.

he wears his wedding ring loudly like it’s a flex on single people.

nagi seishiro

no one is surprised. like, yeah. obviously nagi would get married to his first love.

he reposts a wedding pic you posted because he can’t be bothered making his own announcement.

interviewers ask, “what made you want to settle down?” and he goes: “she’s comfy. i love her.”

fans sob at the simplicity: “nagi just EXISTED and found true love while i’m out here struggling 😭”

you are considered the ultimate cozy queen by the fanbase.

nagi refers to you as “home” and it’s so casually romantic that everyone melts.

he basically just plays games, cuddles you, and naps, living the dream.

karasu tabito

he trolls the entire internet with your marriage reveal.

he posts: “sorry ladies, taken for life 💍🤪” with the hashtag #wifedup.

every comment is roasting him: “you????? married?????? how???”

no one believes him. not until you both post matching wedding rings with the caption: “teamwork makes the dream work 🫶”

sports reporters really don't know if it’s real or just karasu being karasu.

but it doesn’t change the fact that you and karasu become an iconic couple overnight.

karasu’s new favorite hobby is pretending to be a “wife guy” on twitter for clout. like he’ll fake cry on twitter about missing “the single life” while literally posting pictures of you two cuddling under captions like: “can’t go out tonight, gotta watch kdramas with my wife 💔”

fans call you "the MVP who finally fouled karasu’s heart.”

somehow you two are both chaotic and goals at the same time.

though media outlets are still confused whether to take him seriously because karasu’s like a walking clickbait article: “is he joking? is he not? find out on the next episode of karasu being karasu.”

2K notes · View notes

justcat-judging · 2 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞

⋆. 𐙚˚- 𝑩𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒅 '𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒑 𝒔𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆' 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒂 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅.

𝑰𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒊 𝒀𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒊, 𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒂 𝑴𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖, 𝑹𝒆𝒐 𝑴𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝑵𝒂𝒈𝒊 𝑺𝒆𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒐, 𝑹𝒊𝒏 𝑰𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊, 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒐𝒖 𝑹𝒚𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒆, 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝑲𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓, 𝑺𝒂𝒆 𝑰𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊

𝑰𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒊 𝒀𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒊

It started as a joke.

You sent Yoichi a snap of you in the mirror, flexing a very unimpressive "bicep," captioned, "When he's copying your snaps, so you pulled this move." It was part of that dumb TikTok trend you saw, and honestly? You didn't expect a reply.

But a few minutes later, your phone buzzed.

Yoichi had sent back a snap—his serious face in the mirror, mimicking your exact pose, sleeve rolled up, arm flexed. His bicep actually had definition, which made it ten times funnier. You could tell he was trying so hard not to laugh.

Then he messaged:

"You tryna start a flex war?"

"Because I'm winning."

You choked on your water, grinning like an idiot.

Touché, Isagi. Touché.

𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒂 𝑴𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖

You sent the snap mid-laugh—shirt sleeve tugged up, face exaggeratedly serious, flexing your "bicep" like it was made of steel. The caption read:

"Since you love copying my snaps, here's one to test your loyalty."

A beat passed.

Then your phone lit up with a reply.

It was Bachira, shirt halfway off, in the middle of what looked like the team dorm hallway. He had one eyebrow raised, flexing both arms like a wrestler in a dramatic pose. His caption?

"HA! Is that all you got? I’m FLEXING my LOVE for you."

"Also my muscles. But mostly love."

You burst out laughing. Somewhere in the background of the snap, someone (probably Isagi) was yelling "PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON!"

Bachira just sent another photo of his bicep… with a crudely drawn smiley face on it.

"He says hi."

𝑹𝒆𝒐 𝑴𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒈𝒆

You sent the snap, flexing your arm with a teasing grin, trying to match the same playful energy from before.

"Let's see if you can top this one, Reo."

You knew he wouldn't back down from a challenge.

It only took a minute before his response came. Reo, in front of a mirror again, perfecting his pose as usual. His flex was smooth, his bicep clearly defined, and his expression… well, still effortlessly smug.

"Is that your best shot? You'll have to try harder if you want to beat me."

Reo's confidence was something else, and it showed in the way he held his pose like he was born to flex. He wasn't just copying you—he was trying to show you that he was the one setting the bar.

You couldn't help but smile.

𝑵𝒂𝒈𝒊 𝑺𝒆𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒐

You stretched your arm, flexed in the mirror, and snapped a photo with a wide grin plastered on your face.

"He keeps copying my snaps, so I hit him with this one."

You figured Nagi wouldn't respond. Too much effort. Too lazy. Too… Nagi.

But then—ping.

Snap received. It was Nagi, in bed, half under the covers, one arm sticking out just enough to mirror your pose. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were barely open. But his flex? Still better than yours.

"Ugh. So much work. Did I win?"

The worst part? He probably didn't even try.

And yes—he definitely won. (My heart)

𝑹𝒊𝒏 𝑰𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊

You aimed your camera at the mirror, flexed with all the fake intensity you could muster, and snapped the photo.

"Since you wanna copy my snaps so bad, try this one."

You smirked as you sent it, expecting either no reply or something dripping with passive aggression.

But a few minutes later, Rin's snap popped up.

Same angle. Same flex. His face was unreadable, jaw set, but he’d clearly copied you.

Only difference? His arm actually looked dangerous.

"You done?"

No emojis. No extra words. Just peak Rin.

But you could feel the tiniest bit of effort behind that mirror-perfect pose.

He copied you. And that was basically love, Rin-style. (Headlock when?)

𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒐𝒖 𝑹𝒚𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒆

You hit send with a smug grin, flexing your arm dramatically in the mirror.

"Let's see if he copies this one."

Shidou wasn't the type to pass up a challenge—especially if it was stupid.

Sure enough, his snap came fast.

He was shirtless, of course, flexing both arms like he was on a magazine cover, wild grin in full effect. Hair messy. Chaos radiating.

"You tryna turn me on or start a flex-off?"

"Cuz I’m down for both."

You stared at your phone.

Yeah. You walked right into that one.

𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝑲𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓

You sent the snap with a playful smirk, dramatically flexing in the mirror like you had biceps worthy of worship.

"He keeps copying my snaps, so I hit him with this one."

You weren't sure if Kaiser would even take the bait.

Then—ping.

Snap incoming: Kaiser, shirt slightly pulled up, sleeve pushed back, perfectly copying your pose with annoyingly perfect lighting and annoyingly real muscle.

"Cute. But mine's premium."

Of course he added a smug wink at the end. You could practically hear the ego through the screen.

He copied you, alright. But he still made it all about him.

Very Kaiser of him.

𝑺𝒂𝒆 𝑰𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊

You sent the snap with a casual flex, barely putting in any effort—just enough to make it look like you were playing along.

"Let's see you copy this."

You weren't sure if Sae would humor you, but a few moments later, your phone buzzed.

It was Sae. Of course, he was posing like a model, not even breaking a sweat. His flex was effortless, and his eyes were narrowed like he was sizing you up.

"Pathetic. Try harder next time."

The flex wasn't the only thing on display. He made it clear that he was above the game, even as he played along. But he did copy you.

Sae was always a little extra, and you kind of loved it.

𝑨/𝒏: 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑰'𝒎 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕.. 𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝑰 𝒅𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒌𝒚𝒖𝒖 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐?

-𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐯𝐞𝐫

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bloomseishiro · 2 months ago

Text

THE NOT SO SILENT TREATMENT — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — you always text him updates about your day. but today, rin notices his notifications from you are lacking… he’s definitely not worried. not at all.

itoshi rin x reader. fluff, established relationship, pro soccer player!rin, rin is overthinking ;p that silly goose, reader referred to as beautiful + princess, does this count as clingy rin???, did i mention fluff :>

word count. 1.4k

Itoshi Rin hates when you give him the silent treatment.

He’s never noticed, nor cared, when others act quiet around him or ignore him, but the moment you don’t send him any text updates about your day at work, he grows worried.

It’s become routine for Rin to check his phone during breaks, smiling to himself as he read about whatever shenanigans you’ve been up to while working or running errands. But today, he checks his phone only to see zero notifications. At least, from you. He doesn’t care enough to acknowledge the others.

He places his phone back down, feeling slightly unsettled.

It might’ve been different if he hasn’t been away from Japan for over a week now, but the limited communication was really getting to him. Rin doesn’t think of himself as a physical touch guy, but the longer he’s away from you, the more he realizes he’s wrong.

“What’s with the long face?” Nanase asks as he peeks his head into the locker room.

“Nothing,” is Rin’s simple response.

Nanase raises his eyebrow questioningly but shrugs anyway, grabbing a clean face towel from his duffle bag and heading back to the field.

Once Rin is alone again, he sighs.

Could it be you are finally fed up with his infrequent responses? He reads all your messages, and he replies verbally once he gets the chance to call you, but he doesn’t text back much.

Worse, could it be that you are fed up with this bothersome, semi-long distance relationship? At home, the two of you have an apartment together. You furnished the place together (meaning you picked out all the furniture, then had Rin build it all himself), bought matching cookware, and even forced Rin to go to one art class so the two of you could make a painting and hang it on the wall. Everything is easy when he’s in Japan.

But during his frequent travels, you two are separated by both distance and timezones. A part of Rin wishes you could join him more often during away games, but a larger part of him is proud that you have your own passions and ambitions in your career, even if that means you can’t take as much time away as he would like.

Would it be only natural for you to grow restless of this type of relationship? Is that why you aren’t messaging?

Rin groans, slapping his hand to his forehead and trying to snap out of his useless spiraling.

He has a practice match to win. This can be worried about later.

The rest of the game passes by in a blur. His anxiety and frustration manifests into an even more aggressive playstyle than normal. The other team can’t keep up with the sudden change in pace, and Rin’s team wins. Not that he is surprised. Of course he would win.

By the time he next checks his phone, he still sees no new messages from you.

He frowns.

It’s about 4 p.m. where he is, meaning it’s around midnight for you. Surely, before bed you would have at least sent a goodnight text.

With a gnawing pit in his stomach, Rin doesn’t bother to wait until he gets to his hotel room to call you. The moment he enters his rental car, he dials your number for a video call.

You pick up on the third ring.

Rin’s shoulders suddenly feel less tense.

“Oh, my gosh,” you say, voice muffled with all the movement happening. Rin peers at his screen. The video of you is dark, but he can make out the fact that you are getting out of your car. “Today was absolutely crazy! I only got home just now. It’s so late! I’m so hungry but I need to get ready for bed and wake up early tomorrow. Ugh!” You sigh as you unlock the door to your apartment. “How are you, babe? Did practice go well? I missed you.”

After going all day without hearing from you, those three simple words brought a sense of contentment to him. Still, he remains cautious.

“You haven’t messaged me all day,” he states, voice neutral. “Is everything okay?”

The lights flicker on and he finally gets a clear view of your face. Your eyes look tired, but your smile is soft and cheerful.

“I’m a bit exhausted from today,” you admit sheepishly. “I slept through my alarm in the morning and I was so late to work, I couldn’t even text you good morning! Then, I ran over a nail! A fucking nail. Like, are you kidding me? Then, I had to go to a car shop since my tire popped, but they said they don’t have my tires in stock! So, they told me to go to another dealership down the street. By then I was so late for work I had to drop off my car, run to the nearest station, then go to work because I have a stupid project that the boss told me is due tomorrow morning for absolutely no reason whatsoever! So I had to stay late to finish up. Then, when I was finally able to leave, I have to take the train to the car dealership and pay way too much money to have them replace my tires. I was finally on my way home when my mom called and asked me to pick something up for her and she kept me for hours! Basically, I’m so tired and sleepy and what the fuck in the air was today?”

You gasp for breath once you finish talking, plopping down onto the couch dramatically.

“I want to sleep but I’m too tired to get ready,” you whine, lower lip jutting out in a pout. “I wish you were here to help.”

“I wish I were there, too,” says Rin, staring hopelessly through the screen. Even tired after a long day, he thinks you look beautiful. “Sounds like your day was busy.”

You nod in despair. “Yeah, I barely even got to go on my phone. I had, like, zero downtime today. It felt so weird not being able to text you,” you say sadly, a frown on your face. “I miss you, Rin.”

He exhales through his nose, closing his eyes and laughing at himself for his stupidity from earlier. Of course, you didn’t text him because you were busy. It’s not because you got cold-feet, or because you were re-thinking this relationship. You were simply busy. Maybe if he weren’t an idiot, he would’ve come to that conclusion sooner.

“Rin?” you ask hesitantly, worried after not hearing a reply.

He blinks, turning his attention back to you. “I miss you, princess. I fly back tomorrow. Finally.”

Your eyes, once tired, are now filled with excitement as you beam. “I know! I marked it on my calendar. I asked to leave work early so I can greet you right when you return!”

The sound of your happiness feels like a familiar embrace and Rin can’t help but smile, though faint. “I’ll look for you when I land then.”

“Can I make a giant sign with your name on it?”

He snorts in amusement. “And when will you have time to do that before tomorrow? How about you get some sleep instead?”

You pout, but a yawn overcomes you as the exhaustion hits.

Rin lifts his brow as if to say, “See?”

“Coffee exists,” you mumble. “I have poster paper and some markers—”

“Y/N,” he says, deadpan. “It’s late there. Get some rest. Please.”

You sigh, but nod in agreement. “Okay, baby. I’ll rest now, but I’ll see you tomorrow. I miss you a lot.”

He feels his cheeks heat up. “I miss you, too. A lot.”

“Can we cuddle all day when you get back?”

“Isn’t that always the plan?” he says dryly, but the corner of his lip quirks up into a smile. “Yes.”

“Yay!” you cheer, waving goodbye through the phone screen. “Love you! Good night!”

His phone grows dim once you hang up, but he feels like a weight has been taken off his chest knowing you weren’t ignoring him.

Now, Rin can’t wait for the flight so he can come home soon.

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