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got this idea cuz I was comparing sae and Rin to my friends who don't watch bllk loll
reader who's around the itoshi brothers a lot and accidentally mixes up their names at times and sometimes when she isn't looking at them or she's talking to them from another room she'll even mix up their voices 😭
lowk my dad does this w me and my siblings LMFAO
“𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢?”
a/n: i want to make out with sae
(art credits go to Jhong_Dai on X)
it’s not even your fault. really. they’re both monotone. they both sigh like the world annoys them. they both say your name like you just crashed their car. and sometimes, just sometimes, you’re not looking and they sound exactly the same.
“rin, pass me the charger?”
“i’m sae.”
“… okay, but are you gonna pass it or not?”
you don’t even flinch anymore. you just accept the wrong name like it’s your god-given right to be mildly incorrect 60% of the time. and it pisses off a particular itoshi.
rin scowls. “do you not hear the difference?”
“well yeah, i do now. you sound more like you're ready to fight someone, and sae sounds like he just woke up from a nap he didn't want to take.”
“that’s literally just being awake.”
but when you're not in the same room, that’s when things get dicey.
once, you told sae from the kitchen, “rin, can you check the oven?”
and sae, older brother sae, peeked inside and said, “yeah, it’s done.”
and you thanked him like that was normal. it wasn’t until rin came home later that night and asked what you baked that it hit you. you stared at him. “wait… that wasn’t you earlier?”
rin blinked. “i haven’t been home all day.”
“… oh.”
“… did you confuse us again.”
“… maybe.”
“… again?”
you don’t even try to defend yourself anymore. “look, you guys have the same DNA or whatever, maybe my brain just can’t distinguish premium itoshi stock.”
rin looks like he’s about to walk into traffic. sae, from the couch, just smirks without looking up from his phone.
“it’s okay,” he says, “you’re not the first one to be confused. rin used to think he was me, too.”
“i didn’t.”
“you wore my uniform with my name tag for a week in middle school.”
“it was black. they’re all black.”
“you thought you were me.”
sometimes you think you’re just being dramatic. but then they both walk into the room in black shirts, with the same resting judgmental face, the same little flick of hair falling across their forehead, and you have to mentally roll the dice.
“sae?”
“wrong.”
“rin?”
“still wrong.”
“what? ... okay, but one of you has to answer.”
"you could just turn around and look."
“no. this is a test now.”
the worst is when they use it against you. like today. one of them called from the hallway: “hey, can you come here for a sec?”
you shout back, “who’s ‘you’?”
“me.”
“who’s me?!”
“your favorite itoshi.”
you freeze. because honestly? that doesn’t help at all. they both say that with the same exact sarcasm.
rin walks in first, holding a water bottle. “did you come when i called or when sae called?”
“wait, so you called me?”
sae trails in a second later. “i didn’t say anything.”
“then why did i hear–”
they both smirk. they planned this. they planned this to gaslight you and it worked.
“i hate you both,” you mumble.
rin tosses you the bottle. “love you too.”
sae ruffles your hair as he walks by. “learn our voices before you embarrass yourself in public.”
you grumble something under your breath, and rin hears it.
Nerdy roommate!Alexis hated being around you — or at least that’s what he told himself. Deep down, he just didn’t feel like he deserved you. You were this effortless goddess, and he was just.. him. A nervous wreck, a virgin, a mess of awkward glances and flushed cheeks. Ness never felt more like a nobody than when you smiled at him like he mattered.
“H-How do I—” he stuttered, his cock twitching inside your mouth as your fingers massaged his perineum, dancing between his balls. Seated in his gaming chair, his legs trembled uncontrollably. He was sweating, dizzy, barely able to breathe. His hips bucked forward without thinking —not out of confidence, but sheer helpless need.
Your soft moans vibrated around his shaft, sending waves of pleasure straight to his core. He shivered.
“Hey dude, where are you? We’re getting attacked!” came a voice in his ear —his headset still clinging to his head.
“Y-Yeah!” he yelped, quickly pulling the mic away.
You let his cock slip from your mouth with a wet pop, strings of spit clinging to your lips. “I-I’m h-here!” he blurted out, panicked, just as your mouth wrapped around his flushed tip again. Your tongue circled the head, teasing mercilessly. “I’m so-sorry, I— fuck—”
“Ness, what the hell are you doing?”
You chuckled against his length, making eye contact as his face turned crimson. He whimpered, the poor thing, completely undone by the attention. “You want me to stop?” you whispered sweetly, stroking his slick shaft. Your voice was low, dripping with mock-innocence. You loved how he twitched every time your thumb rubbed over the tip.
“N-No! I don’t!” he nearly cried out, hips jerking forward again. He was squirming in his chair now, incapable of staying still. “Please.. don’t..”
“Don’t what, babe?” you teased, slowing down just enough to make him whine. “Say it. Say it, and I might let you cum in my mouth.”
Oh.
Nerdy roommate!Alexis had never had a blowjob before. He had never been touched like this. It was too much. His whole body tensed—and he came. Hard. He gasped as his cock throbbed, spurting across your hand in weak, twitchy pulses.
“Oof. Didn’t even give me time to put it back in my mouth,” you cooed with a smirk. “Guess I’ll just have to clean up the mess..”
“N-No— !” Ness gasped, almost shooting out of his chair when your tongue licked up the cum gathering at his tip. “F-Fuck! Oh my god!” he moaned, overwhelmed. He had no clue where to look, what to say, how to move.
He was completely wrecked. And you weren’t even done with him yet.
warnings: everyone is aged up 21+, afab/fem reader, reader is nagi's girlfriend, cheating, weed smoking, piv sex, degradation kink, spit kink, begging, drugged sex, creampie, couch sex, guilty confessions
synopsis: You show up at Reo's front door soaked from the rain and sobbing into his chest. After a fight with your boyfriend, you run into the arms of his best friend and quickly get over one man for another.
note: this is a commission for the darling @antique-remains!! thank you again for commissioning me and trusting me with this idea, and it being my first time writing reo/bllk!! i did have so much fun with this i love this downbad loser hehe enjoy~♡
minors & ageless blogs dni - you will be blocked
Reo shares everything with Nagi.
They share similar interests, goals and ideals. Shared living spaces, bathrooms, toothbrushes. On occasion they've shared a bed, shared food with one another, shared dark secrets no one else knows about.
So why does he feel an intense bout of guilt when Nagi's girlfriend is riding his cock?
Paper splits against Reo's fingers for the fourth time and he growls in frustration, clenching his jaw to stop a childish temper tantrum. He's one of the best, most sought after soccer players in the world, and yet he can't seem to effectively roll his own joints. Something that was supposed to relax him during the off season is becoming another pain in his ass. Nagi's words ring around in his head mockingly, grimacing at the fact he turned down having them rolled for him because he thought he could do it himself.
Unfolding the destroyed craft and spilling the ground nuggets onto a fresh roll of paper, Reo is soon distracted by the doorbell notification on his phone. It's a weekday evening and he planned to spend it alone — that plan turned around pretty quickly when he saw you on the other side of the camera.
After ogling at your pretty face — entirely ignoring the way your lips are drawn into a frown, arms wrapped around yourself in rain-drenched clothes — Reo realises you're on your own.
It's rare to see Nagi without you since you're often his point of authority, encouraging and babysitting him into training and attending other events. It's even rarer to see you without Nagi.
Reo is eager to open the door, catching you easily in his arms when you throw yourself at him. His heart races, thumping wildly in his chest. You've never been this close to him before and despite soaking his clothes, he couldn't be happier for the contact.
"Where's Nagi?" He asks before anything else.
It's then he realises you're sobbing into his chest. Words muffled by his shirt as he catches "Sei" "fight" and "kicked me out" between jumbled cries. While he often tries to stay out of his best friend's private life, Reo can't help but feel sorry for you; a damsel in distress in need of being saved. This will gain him favour with both you and Nagi.
The cold rain transfers from your clothes to his but he wraps both his arms around you anyway, pulling you inside and pushing the door closed. Each of your sobs echoed throughout the near empty mansion, bouncing off of white marble walls and back to Reo. Of course seeing you upset tugs at his heartstrings, but he can't help himself from being entranced with the way your chest is pressed against him.
While you're in his guest room changing into some dry clothes, Reo returns to the living room and contemplates texting Nagi about your whereabouts. He knows his best friend well, and even if he doesn't show care or worry outwardly, it's likely that Nagi will begin to wonder and worry where you've gone — especially if all your friends report back that you aren't with them. The idea is tossed out of the window and subsequently blasted into space when you walk into the living room. Hair still a little damp from rain, your make-up cleaned up, you fit into one of Reo's old football kits a little too well.
"Thanks for letting me borrow these." You say with a grateful smile, making yourself comfortable on the couch. The shorts ride up your thighs when you pull your legs onto the couch to sit sideways, nylon tightening around supple flesh and Reo can't help but stare.
Snapping out of his trance, Reo beams. "It's okay, anything for my best friend's girlfriend." It was a vocal reminder to himself.
Looking down at the egregiously expensive coffee table that houses his failed craft, Reo sighs short through his nose and drops to the floor to return to rolling. The mansion is silent and empty — no music, no TV playing in the background, no one else roaming around fulfilling their paid duties. It gave you an opportunity to watch, crawling onto the floor next to him; not close enough to touch him but not too far away either.
"What're you doing?"
Looking up he catches your gaze, heart fluttering as he wonders if you're looking at him like that on purpose. A sultry smile, curious eyes, your body leaning towards him ever so slightly. Every night he thinks about you; the way you look at him compared to anyone else, how your hands feel on his arms when you laugh a little too loud at something he's said. Sometimes it's hard to remember you're Nagi's girl and not his — unavailable, off limits, out of bounds.
Yet you allow him to do and say certain things to you that would earn him a fist to the jaw if it were anyone else.
His hands would find their way onto your hips if he passes behind you at the club or an event, the same hands resting low on your back when he hugs you. He compliments your outfits in a way only your lover would — Reo pushes the boundaries every day. By now Nagi should've said something — or you — but to maintain favour with his best friend especially and keep his football career, Reo tries to hold himself back on a tight leash.
The paper tears in his hands again, though this time he had hardly begun to roll. Instead, he was lost in his racing thoughts and battling a dry mouth after locking eyes with you, a little too rough with the delicate material. There's a furrow of his brows as he looks down in frustration, threading fingers through his long fringe and tossing his loose hair back. "I'm trying to roll but I keep breaking it. I should've asked Nagi to help."
There was an apology on the tip of his tongue at mentioning your boyfriend who you're upset with, but when he looks up, you seem entirely unfazed. Instead, you reach out and slide the broken paper towards yourself, taking control of the task and rolling with ease. Reo watches the way your fingers move so nimbly. It was like watching a professional at work. Sweat begins to build across his forehead seeing the peek of your tongue wet the paper. You smile as you hold the joint out towards him by the tip; easy work when he'd been trying and failing for the past half hour.
"Thanks," He says almost breathless as he tries to ease his aching heart. "I didn't know you knew how to roll."
You shrug. Careless, casual and cool. Reo can't look at you. Rather, he tries to find his lighter and remind himself you are not available, you are not single.
But the challenge makes you all the more tempting.
"Sei taught me when we first started dating." The way you say his name shouldn't be a stab in Reo's gut like it is. "Are you planning on sharing?"
Your smile was so sweet and mischievous as you looked from the joint to Reo — as though he would ever say no.
He lights up and draws a couple of breaths, passing the joint to you. When your fingers brush against one another, he inhales a little too fast, causing him to cough uncontrollably. You giggle and take your own drag, inhaling and exhaling with ease before checking if he's okay.
"Yeah," Reo gasps out as he nods, "Bad take."
Passing the joint back and forth, you each take your turn until Reo hit the filter, stubbing out the last of the flames in the ashtray. He felt a little more at ease, though expected the effects to keep kicking in. When your eyes meet — because you had been staring at him for his attention and Reo was trying not to indulge in his fantasies — you giggle and lean forward.
"Reo~" You sing, face so close to his he can feel your breath on his lips. It feels shameful to smile at your proximity but he couldn't help it.
"Yeah?"
"Why are we sitting on the floor? Are we teenagers?"
He licks his lips and balls his hands into fists at his sides, screaming internally not to reach out and lick your lips. Instead, Reo huffs out a laugh, responding in a low voice. "I was hoping to channel my inner teenager when rolling."
You hum and lose your balance, leaning forward with your legs at an awkward angle from being sat down, but your hands planted on the floor between you both. Whether you lost it purposely or not is unclear, but it results in your nose brushing against his and your lips barely missing each other. With a squeal and laugh you fall into Reo, head landing on his chest while he throws his back, mouthing a curse into the high ceiling of his mansion.
"Whoops! Sorry Reo," You giggle and crawl off of his lap, your hands a little too nice on his thighs. "I forget smoking hits me pretty fast."
Every moment becomes harder to tame himself. This is probably one of the first times you've been alone together — without Nagi, any other friends, paparazzi. It's the perfect opportunity to take what he wants, to indulge in this year's long challenge, but Reo cares about his friend. And he also cares about your relationship with his friend, of course.
Before he possibly gets too high and melts into the floor, Reo stands and reaches out to offer a helping hand. "Let's sit on the couch."
You look so angelic underneath him, even so far away. Hair splayed out across his floor, a wide smile on your face, vulnerable. Giggling, you reach out and let him help you up and throw yourself onto the couch. Reo is quick to follow, placing himself a comfortable distance from you — though that doesn't last long when you immediately shuffle closer to his side. Your bent knees on the couch are pressing into his thigh, resting your head against the back of the couch, he turns on the TV as a distraction for himself.
A random show plays, one neither of you recognise nor do you care about, honestly. Reo was more focused on keeping his hands to himself, sinking back into the couch and letting his high take effect. It felt like time was moving slow when all he could think about was you. Shuffling in his seat and repositioning his arms a hundred times a minute, he couldn't find a comfortable position that didn't involve his hands spread across your thighs.
When you giggle it pulls him from his thoughts. Turning towards you feels like he's moving in slow motion, as though his eyes are lagging. It takes his brain just as long to process you, realising you're looking at him and just how close you are. He smiles at your presence, laughter bubbling in his chest before sticking his tongue out at you.
Reo doesn't hear his own moan when your lips wrap around his tongue. He barely registers the delicate way your hand cups his face. Eyes falling closed instinctually, he leans in to you, chasing as you pull away. Your lips release him with a suckle, giggling at his flushed features. It doesn't feel real. Did you actually just do that? The sparks that linger on the tip of his tongue tell him it was real, especially the way he tastes you when returning.
Nagi's name is caught in his throat. Swallowed like venomous bile, he tries to convince himself you're not in a relationship with his best friend.
Instead, he mutters, "We shouldn't do that."
You laugh and he feels like a child who said something so naive to an adult. It wasn't your intention but he feels small under your gaze. His high is hitting him so fast — or maybe he lost track of time when telling himself not to give in to impulses.
"Why not?" You play dumb and Reo bites his tongue watching you tilt your head. Acting so cute and innocent, as though you didn't just suck on his tongue like a harlot.
There's a war that rages inside of him; one side fights for his best friend, his teammate who he deeply cares for. The other side fights for his personal desires, arguing that what Nagi doesn't know won't hurt him. You made a move first, not him — though he wouldn't be any better if he didn't stop you.
Reo is an international footballer, he can have anyone he wants. Women fall at his feet all the time. Super models approach him at events and galas for a chance to be with him, the most beautiful women in the world throw themselves at him, he's blessed to have the pick of the litter when it comes to relationships and sex.
Except they're all too easy. Boring and uninteresting. None of them provide a challenge or sense of danger like you do. As gorgeous and ethereal as you are, there's an added layer of risk. It's not so easy to have you. Reo can't have you eating out of the palm of his hand without severe consequences that follow. Although before tonight, you hadn't been handing yourself out on a silver platter for him.
His response is just as childish as he feels. "You know why."
Your grin widens and Reo can't be sure if you're closing in on him again, it feels like his brain is so slow but his heart is so full of excitement and desire. The sparks of your touch still burst like tiny explosions against his cheek and the taste of you lingers as a delicious treat.
"Don't you want to kiss me?"
It's whispered against his lips, a hum of temptation following it. Reo can practically see the words behind his half closed eyelids, it feels like he's going to start drooling if you don't stop him, but there's still a small part of his brain working hard to keep him back. Your nose bumps into his face next to his own and you giggle, a soft and delicate hand finding a place high on his inner thigh — he can't hold back any longer.
Reo kisses you like a man starved. It's aggressive, hungry and desperate. He would devour you right here and now if he could. Your lips are soft and wet against his own, tongues immediately mingling with one another like long lost friends. The way his hands grab onto you and pull you closer is a little more forceful than he intended, causing you to moan in response, noises that Reo swallowed eagerly.
All of this feels like a dream; the hungry kisses, fingers threaded through your hair, the weight of your chest pressed against his as he pulls you closer, your hand palming his half-hard cock through his pants. If he didn't think about it too hard, Reo would convince himself that none of this is real. A wet dream he had one night. He would wake up full of shame covered in his own cum, forced to clean his own bed sheets and shower away the guilt, vowing never to speak of it to anyone.
Except it's real.
Much like he swallowed all your moans, you happily accept all of his noises. The curse that's croaked out against your lips in a brief moment of respite causes you to smile, dragging your thumb along the underside of his cock that stands from your attention, sucking on his bottom lip with a hum.
"Still don't think we should do this?" You ask and it momentarily sobers Reo. He blinks and sees you so clearly, thinking about Nagi and all the times he's seen you both share a kiss. It must have shown on his face because you laugh, pulling back to lie across the couch, thumbs hooked under the elastic waistband of his shorts you're wearing. "What's the matter? Don't want to fuck your best friends girlfriend?"
You shouldn't say it — it only makes his cock harder. Twitching against the fabric of his pants, hot and heavy, Reo groans and pants like a dog. His eyes grow hazy as his mind begins to lag again, wiping his mouth where it feels like he's drooling. Your giggle bounces around the walls of his skull like a pleasant symphony. Even your foot on his chest that's keeping him from closing in on you feels like heaven. Reo wraps his fingers around your ankle, pulling your foot up towards his face. It feels right when his lips find your delicate skin, missing the way you pull down his shorts with underwear in tow, dragging his tongue and teeth along flesh.
"I didn't know you were into feet, Reo." You tease and Reo feels the heat on his cheeks. Fire on his face, it burns and grows when you hook your leg over his to straddle his lap. It's instinctual the way his hands grab your hips. "You're a little freak, aren't you?"
Talking feels impossible because none of this feels real. Mouth dry and at the same time oozing with saliva, Reo's mind roaming a mile a minute yet he lags in processing what's happening. Every few seconds it feels as though he's forgotten it's you in front of him. Hazy and angelic, he's living through a dream.
And at the same time, everything feels so very real. Your skin under his fingertips is like touching silk. The weight of you in his lap brings about a sense of comfort he hasn't felt since he was a child. Every slight motion of your hips against his cock is like fireworks.
Reo can and can't believe this is happening.
"I'm into anything you want, baby." He says, the words forcefully pushed out between the invisible cloth pressed against his tongue.
A collective gasp fills the room when his cock is freed from his pants. You were surprised and excited at just how thick and hard he was, while he drew breath between his teeth from the relief. Stroking him in a languid motion pulls out a long moan deep within his chest.
"Tell me what you want." You tease, still sitting in his lap with his cock in your hand, so close to your exposed cunt. "Tell me you want to fuck me. Say how much you want to fuck Sei's girlfriend." There's a curse that falls off of Reo's lips when you squeeze his sensitive head — he's forced to hold his breath to keep a squeak from following. "Come on, say it. You wanna fuck your best friends girl."
His head spins, flashes of Nagi swirling through his mind, an attempt to connect to his consciousness. The horny part of his brain is too much, though it still proves difficult for him to say it.
"Please…" Reo murmurs, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, as though it will keep him safe from judgement.
"Not what I asked." You squeeze his tip again, leaning in to bite his bottom lip. "How bad do you want it?"
"…Bad, really bad."
Reo's hands on your hips tighten, pulling you closer with a whine. "Then say it."
Never has a handjob felt so good and Reo fears he might cum already if you keep stroking him like this. Each swipe is an adrenaline rush, a pleasant punch to his gut. Grinding his teeth, he leans into you, face buried in the crook of your neck.
"I want…I wanna fuck you."
"You wanna fuck who?" Your free hand laces through his hair and Reo feels like he could cry.
"You, please."
"Who am I to you?"
His balls tighten and he's forced to take a breath and focus on not cumming and speaking.
"Nagi's girlfriend."
You hum. "Good boy."
How Reo didn't cum as soon as you began to sink down on his cock, he may never know. Teeth clenched, body taut beneath you, he closes his eyes and breathes deep through his nose. You're so warm and tight and wet, it's everything and more than he ever imagined. Everything has been amplified to the max; his cock hypersensitive to every little move you make, feeling the way your walls flutter ever so slightly as you begin moving, hearing each tiny pitch change as you breathe.
Of course he enjoys sex but this was different. Whether it's because it was with you or because he was high, Reo felt like he was in the clouds.
You bounce on his cock so easy, finding a solid rhythm fast and sticking to it as your thighs meet in the steady pattern. He didn't even have to do anything — just enjoy the sight before him, watch the way your tits bounce beneath one of his old football shirts. Reo's eyes were glazed over as he held onto your hips, convinced he was drooling like an animal despite his arm remaining dry whenever he wiped his lips.
It's sickening what you're doing. Cheating on a good man like Nagi. Having a fight and being kicked out for the evening isn't an excuse to fuck your boyfriends best friend. Reo wonders if you did this on purpose. Was your intention to come over and seduce him this whole time? Sure, he's been caught by you with wandering eyes and overly friendly hands but that's innocent. Never did it lead to this.
At the same time, Reo can't deny how his cock drooled over your hand when you forced him to tell you how much he wants to fuck you.
Even your moans are more heavenly than he ever expected. It's shameful the thoughts he's had about it, replaying everything you've ever said, every noise he's heard you make in an attempt to imagine what you'd sound like in this position. It's better than any music. Like a blessing, he needs to hear it over and over again.
You smile at Reo as you bounce in his lap, kissing him with hunger akin to a starving beast. It feels like you'd eat him alive if you could — shamefully, he'd let you.
Reo follows the kiss when you pull back, unwilling to let you escape him just yet. Your hips had stopped moving and he was left buried deep in your pussy, helplessly twitching against your warm walls, he leaks against your cervix. Wrapping his arms around you, Reo moans into your mouth, head tilted all the way back. When you finally pull away, you hold his mouth open with a thumb on his chin. The lavender of his eyes is almost entirely overshadowed by the size of his pupils, watching as you purse your lips and roll your tongue. Reo happily accepts the spit that's slowly hanging from your mouth into his, groaning when it hits his tongue. The taste of you is delectable. You giggle and follow your saliva, tracing your tongue along his to spread yourself all over his mouth.
Disgusting, immoral, so fucking good.
His hips begin to move into you, thrusting in the non-existent space he occupies between you and the couch. More, more, more. He can do this all day but he needs to feel you moving, to memorise the way your walls clench around him, permanently etch your moans of his name into his memories.
In a flurry of motion, you're flipped onto your back. Reo is quick to follow, not for a moment did he let you detach from his cock or his mouth when he moves you. The thump of your head hitting the arm of the couch rattles your brain but the pleasant high that fogs your mind blurs the pain. It's exciting when Reo takes over and fucks you how he wants, because he's relentless.
Much faster than when you were riding him, Reo fucks you like winning the world cup is on the line. He pulls out until just the tip is still inside of you, quickly and forcefully burying himself back into your heat, his pubes flush against your clit. Panting into your open mouth like a dog, Reo is at your mercy.
You cry out in pleasure, moaning his name like it's the only word you've ever known. It makes his eyes roll, balls tightening in his sack, his hands gripping onto your hips so hard you're bound to bruise. Reo has wanted this for years. Ever since he first laid eyes on you, he knew he wanted you sheathed on his cock.
When you wrap your arms around his neck and throw your head back, he honestly believes he's in love.
Your walls pulse around him violently, clenching and releasing, daring to milk him for all he's worth. He's on the edge and he's been staving it off this entire time. Never does he want this to end but seeing you finish like this was all worth it. His teeth drag against your throat, feeling you flex underneath him, you tighten around his cock as you whimper. He doesn't relent — all he wants is to fill you to the brim with his seed.
Licking, biting, kissing. Reo tries desperately to remind himself that he can't mark you. You're not his and the fact only makes his cock throb. Each stroke along your walls makes him dizzier, losing his grip on you and reality itself. Finally, he lets go, burying himself deep as he cums inside you.
Half expecting the post-nut clarity to hit, Reo is elated to find the haze still clouding his mind. Never has he experienced such elation. His mouth finds yours again in a lazy, hungry kiss and you moan into his touch. If he could remain like this forever, then Reo might never have any problems ever again.
Reo has a problem and it won't leave him alone.
Every night he struggles to sleep. His training coach has begun to point out the bags that rest under his eyes, scolding him for sloppy footwork and lack of speed. All his moves are sluggish and no amount of berating is helping him get his act together. When he's forced to sit on the sides and watch the rest of his team practise, he's left stewing on his own thoughts.
It was the best and worst night of his life. He thinks about it constantly, stroking himself to completion over and over again to the thought of you on top of him, remembering how you felt around his cock. The way you say his name, how sweet your moans are.
Then he remembers Nagi.
No one has mentioned it since. You haven't brought it up or tried to contact him about the night, not even to tell him to keep it a secret. That much was obvious but he thought you'd say something. He's seen Nagi numerous times since the incident and he seems none the wiser. Treating Reo like he normally does with a lazy attitude and disinterest. The normalcy puts him on edge more than ease his worries.
"You look tired."
It's embarrassing the way Reo jumps out of his skin upon hearing Nagi. Hoping that he didn't notice, Reo chuckles and offers a light "Yeah," in response, returning to changing into his regular clothes.
"Being tired is such a hassle."
With his back to Nagi, Reo rolls his eyes and grits his teeth. It's hard to look at his best friend these days — for obvious reasons — nevermind talk to him. He was hoping Nagi would take the subtle hint that he's too tired to talk.
"Yeah," Reo repeats, "It's hard sleeping with the season coming up."
There's a hum and for a moment, Reo believes Nagi has realised he doesn't want to talk.
"Normally you're excited."
Reo stuffs his sweaty kit into his locker; a worry for another day. Right now he needs to get out of the locker room and away from Nagi.
It feels like his chest is being torn apart. Hands clawing at his ribs, breaking one at a time, clambering to extract his organs so the guilt he feels can make a comfortable home. It's hard to breathe, hard to think of anything but Nagi's girlfriend moaning in his mouth. You were so beautiful. How can something so perfect cause him such guilt?
"Mikage?"
Finally, Reo turns and looks at Nagi.
He's laid across the benches in the changing room, shirtless with a sweat towel that once hung around his neck. As usual, his phone was settled between his hands, pointed at him but it's likely he's in between games. Nagi's face doesn't move while looking at Reo. There's no sign of life when his best friend's heart is painfully shown on his sleeve.
Reo slams his locker door shut, head hung low as he gasps for air. He can't say it. There's no way. Nagi will abandon him — as he deserves. The scandal will be blasted all over the media. He'll become public enemy number one and forcibly removed from his team. His football career will be over already and Reo will never know happiness ever again.
But he can't keep feeling like this for the rest of his life. It will kill him eventually.
Swallowing thick, he inhales and lets loose.
"I fucked your girlfriend!"
The changing room is painfully silent. Reo shouted the words with his eyes firmly shut. There's no way he'd be able to look at Nagi as he said it. His head hangs low again, staring at his feet and awaiting the barrage of consequences that he should face. There's immediate relief in his chest after the confession, but the longer the silence draws out, the more nauseous Reo becomes.
When Nagi still doesn't respond, Reo is forced to look up. It's hard — harder than looking at him with his secret — but Reo looks at his best friend. His face is unchanged; the same lidded eyes staring back at him, mouth pressed in a neutral and relaxed pose, staring blankly at Reo.
"I know."
Reo isn't sure how his legs are keeping him upright. His whole body feels like it's collapsing and he can't pinpoint any of what he's feeling. Relief? Regret? Confusion? Speechless. Baulking at his best friend, any and all words are stuck in his throat.
Eventually, he croaks out, "You know?"
Nagi hums, returning to his game and tapping away with his thumbs; as though Reo hadn't just confessed an affair with his girlfriend.
"What does that mean?" Reo asks breathlessly, watching as Nagi sits up, still focused on his game.
"It was my idea." He answers easily before standing and approaching the washroom. "Going for a soak. Bye. Peace."
Two fingers are thrown Reo's way, a friendly gesture before he disappears down the hall. Reo is left by himself in the changing rooms to process the information, tormented by a new slough of emotions that he's going to have a hard time processing by himself.
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Mod Review: Blue Lock’s that one super insane soccer (yes im american, unfortunately) series right? I like his abibas shirt. Hopefully he’s not like super awful or something.
Gojo, Geto, Yuji, Megumi and Choso! TW: implied fem reader on megumi's, reader has pink bows!!
"Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Gojo Satoru wants nothing more than to yap with you over a box of kikufuku mochi. The way you let him talk your ears off and still agree with him makes him feel like the only man in the world, and he loves you for that.
"Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Geto Suguru wants nothing more than to cuddle with you and sleep after a long, exhausting day of exorcising curses. He wants nothing more than to kiss your perfect face right before you drift off to your slumber.
"Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Yuji Itadori wants nothing more than to watch movies with you. Front row or not, at the theater or at home, your favorite movie or his, it doesn't matter. For him, any movie is a 10/10 if you're watching it with him.
"Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Megumi Fushiguro wants nothing more than for you to run your fingers through his hair and play with it. He pretends he doesn't like it when you clip his hair with one of your pink bows, but you can see him blushing.
"Men only want one thing, and it's disgusting," which isn't true at all because Choso Kamo wants nothing more than for you to sit on his lap and trace the marking on his nose bridge. No, it doesn't turn him on; it just makes him feel childishly and sweetly giddy, and he can't help but smile.
Thinking about Ness needily bucking his hips closer to yours while repeatedly whining "please" all over again without a single thought in his head as you lovingly caress his face and call him sweet nicknames, a mix of pure devotion and helplessness radiating from his body. His palms grasping your thighs tightly, leaving gentle finger imprints, beseeching silently for permission, his warm breath tickling your skin as he leans in for another kiss, eyes closed in fervent anticipation.
His body arches, spasm-like movements echoing down the length of his back, trembling beneath the soft caress of the sheets as you lovingly stroke his skin, his skin a gentle canvas of rippling muscles. Every delicate curve of his body testifies to the animalistic yet endearing nature of his anguish, making your palms tingle as you gently smudge away the tears threatening to fall.
But it's in the chaos of your sweaty session together when, suddenly, he cries. Whimpers really. Full-on sobbing and whimpering as he buries his face in your neck while you bounce on his length. Tears stream down his cheeks, dripping onto the creased sheets below. And yet his entire body stiffens, veins bulging beneath the surface of his skin. It's apparent that here and now, all rational thought is useless. His raw emotion reduces the room to just two. His body seems a synchronized machine in perfect sync with yours, as you go at a gentle rolling pace, and it threatens to spiral rapidly out of control.
His head jerks, crashing it unforgivingly against the nearest wall, the jarring motion making him cry out sharply with pleasure, the unadulterated release igniting an intense surge in the atmosphere of your bedroom. Red-faced from exertion, his eyes, tear-stained magenta, stare at you adoringly, overflowing with gratitude. The brief impact and heavy breathing makes his chest rise high, emphasizing the vulnerability of his position. You brush a piece of straying hair from his forehead and guide his arms, hands wrapped tightly around your waist, as they steadily make their way up your back to finally wrap around your shoulder blades.
Ness's voice muffled into chest while grunting, the normally lithe body thrashing wildly now cramps tightly against the bed frame, hands digging uncomfortably into your skin.
Overwhelming and full-on relief at being so close to the moment, to which you tell him to cum at the same time as you do, it is almost punishment for he doesn't know how much longer he can keep himself from cumming, and the fact that he's been begging you for the past few minutes.
The room momentarily suspends time while both of you succumb to primal urges.
Finally, after what would seem like an eternity, an intense release is satisfied by the two of you falling into a gentle yet intense, convulsive. Your chest and his simultaneously spattered with a mix of satisfaction, your skin sticky with mixed bodily fluids, both you, after your bodies finish thrashing around uncontrollably, end up reaching an incredible level calm. Exhausted and weary, they eventually collapsed, weighed down heavily on whatever surface was nearest.
After lying quietly a moment, Ness weakly began to wipe away the sticky trails of his own spent tears. Confined tears constricting free movement around his almond-shaped eyes, a shy smile blooming quietly. For the briefest instant, thoughts poured through his fragile mind - though seemingly, only one thought echoes his heart, and his sensitive and uncertain voice, tinged with the simplest hint of fear.
Reader who moved countries across the ocean to start anew and while a little oblivious and clueless, is slowly adapting to their new life with different customs and cowboys, dry mountains and cattle farming- a land painted in the hues of red, orange and yellow that contrast the life they grew accustomed to by the sea covered in blues and greens
Cowboy Kaiser who always ruffles your hair and hangs out by your booth whenever he spots you at the tavern in the evenings, taking his hat off and pressing it down to the crown of your head and letting out a hearty laugh whenever you try to push the tip of it above, saying it’s too big and blocking your view. You just write the gesture of as friendly and warm. And you never notice his gaze lingering on you a second too long.
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theory: michael kaiser was a part of the russian mafia
So in my writing of my Blue Lock Fencing AU, I decided to read the manga and pretty quickly got obsessed with Michael Kaiser and wrote a fic about the person who turned him in (but gay). In the fic, I made the two a part of Bratva and that was because of pure speculation on some of the stuff in the manga.
In chapter 260, the narration mentions he knew a thief, whom we see in one of the panels with two other people. This confirms that he was a part of a local gang, at least in the eyes of the law.
Also the text in chapter 260 and Kaiser and the background characters are referred to as ‘thief’ or ‘thieves’ several times. While this word could be used because they literally steal things, it’s commonly used in Bratva to refer to the people involved, not to be confused with ‘Thieves/Thief-in-Law’, which is a title for high ranking members only.
And finally, what really got me thinking about this were his prison tattoos (yes, they are prison tattoos. In Germany, you need parental permission if you’re under eighteen and he was imprisoned at fifteen and the panel of him getting them was shown before him entering BM).
His rose and barbs tattoo not only is the symbol of his will to do the impossible but in Bratva is a symbol, usually on the arm, of someone who was imprisoned before the age of eighteen (on the chest if the person turned eighteen in prison). The crown, which is only ever seen on the hand, has the same basic meaning as a person of authourity.
Depending if you think Kaiser’s eyeliner is tattooed, they could be interpreted as ‘beauty mark’ tattoos, which signal that the person is gay/a ‘receiver’ when under the eyes (forehead if they’re a snitch, mouth if they give oral sex, and on the chin if they steal from fellow inmates). Though those are usually dots and were given after he met Ness (implied kainess???).
The world, as it always does, buzzed with noise. The streets hummed with whispered rumors, and the internet burned with the wildfire of scandal. Your phone lay face-up on the table, screen aglow with the chaos of speculation.
“Satoru Gojo spotted leaving luxury hotel with famous actress! Romance rumors confirmed?”
You stared at the headline, your chest tightening with something bitter, something raw. Beneath the article were blurred paparazzi photos—Gojo, unmistakable even in his casual hoodie and sunglasses, walking beside a woman far too elegant, too beautiful, too perfect. Her laughter seemed to echo through the pixels, a stark contrast to the deafening silence of your apartment.
Your fingers curled into your sleeves.
You knew Gojo. You knew him better than anyone. The way he peeled oranges for you because you hated getting your fingers sticky, the way he filled your apartment with obnoxious singing just to make you laugh, the way he pressed lazy kisses to your forehead when he thought you were asleep.
And yet—
Yet the doubt wormed its way in, ugly and insidious.
So when the front door swung open, when Gojo strolled in like nothing had shifted, like the world hadn’t crumbled beneath your feet, you couldn’t stop the cold, clipped words that left your lips.
“You’re home early,” you said, not looking up.
Gojo paused, one hand still on the doorknob. He was perceptive—too perceptive. The subtle edge in your tone didn’t escape him. His usual lazy grin wavered.
“Yeah,” he said, softer than usual. “Finished work fast. Missed you.”
Something inside you twisted painfully.
“You sure you weren’t just busy with someone else?” The words tasted like iron, sharp and accusing.
Gojo froze. His sunglasses, still perched on his nose, slid down slightly as he tilted his head at you. The air shifted, the weight of his gaze pressing down like an oncoming storm.
“…What?”
You exhaled harshly, shoving your phone toward him. “This. The whole world’s seen it, Toru.”
He took the device from your hands, his expression unreadable as he skimmed the article. Then, to your immense frustration, he sighed. Not in guilt, not in nervousness—but in sheer exasperation.
“Seriously?” He tossed the phone onto the couch and stepped closer. “You actually believe this?”
You flinched at the casual dismissal. “Everyone else seems to.”
“I don’t give a damn about everyone else.” His voice was still light, but there was an undercurrent of something strained, something fraying. “I care about you. And I never—” His fingers found your wrist, grip firm but not unkind. “—never would do that to you.”
You wanted to believe him. You did believe him. But the hurt lingered, poisoning your thoughts. “Then explain the pictures.”
Gojo sighed again, raking a hand through his hair. “I was leaving a restaurant. She happened to be walking out at the same time. The media made up the rest.” He tilted his head. “You really think I’d be so careless? That I’d do something so predictable?”
His voice was teasing, but his eyes weren’t. They were raw, searching.
You swallowed. “I don’t know.”
Silence stretched between you. Then, suddenly, Gojo crouched, leveling himself to your gaze, his usual cocky smirk replaced with something softer.
“You know me,” he murmured, fingers ghosting over your knuckles. “You’re the only one who does.”
Your breath hitched.
“Everyone knows me as the strongest sorcerer. Six eyes, infinity, all of those things... but you're the only one who actually knows me. Ever since we were kids, you treated me like a human, not just a tool of the higher-ups and sorcerers...”
“So, no,” he whispered. “I would never, ever throw that away.”
Your vision blurred, the weight of your doubt crumbling beneath the sheer, unwavering sincerity in his eyes.
A reluctant laugh slipped past your lips.
And just like that, the tension broke.
Gojo beamed, triumphant, and before you could react, he was pulling you into his chest, arms wrapping around you in a hold so tight it nearly stole your breath.
guys i might make vampire kaiser a series yall dont know hm i love vampires and kaiser
"You're quite lucky I have taken a liking to you."
The words slither into your ear, velvet and venom all at once, a whisper from the abyss. The grip around your throat tightens with deliberate cruelty, the fingers cold as the grave, yet burning like embers pressed against fragile flesh. Your pulse flutters beneath his hand, struggling against the vise of undeath.
"Although I think I am not yet done with you," the Duke purrs, his voice a slow, syrupy drawl, the cadence of a predator savoring the moment before the feast. His breath is unnervingly cool, tinged with something sweet and metallic, like the scent of crushed roses steeped in blood. His fingers trace the delicate curve of your neck before his palm captures your jaw, tilting your face upward, forcing you to meet his gaze.
His beauty is terrible to behold—something otherworldly, a painting of a prince long forgotten, immortalized in oil and bone-white splendor. But here he stands, glistening in the dim glow, and his features twist into something cruel, something sinister. The flickering candlelight catches the sharpness of his cheekbones, the near-translucent pallor of his skin, the darkness pooling in his eyes like ink spilled across parchment.
"What am I?"
The question lingers in the air, deceptively soft, yet laced with an unspoken threat. And the way he says "what" instead of "who" simply confirms all your fears.
Your lips part, but fear clasps around your throat tighter than his hand ever could. You want to answer, to fight, to run—but your limbs feel leaden, as if the very essence of your being has already begun to unravel beneath his gaze.
"Hmm?" he hums, tilting his head, a teasing lilt in his voice, his patience stretching as thin as the space between your lips and his.
"Y-You aren't human," you finally stammer, the words barely more than a strangled whisper. Your throat tightens further as your own voice betrays you. "You're a monster!"
A slow smile curls across his lips, his fangs glinting like twin daggers in the dim light.
"Atta girl," he murmurs approvingly before—
Faster than your mind can register—
You are beneath him.
The air is driven from your lungs as your back meets the mattress, his presence a shadow draped over you. You can’t see him—not fully—not yet. But you can feel him. Everywhere. His hands, cold yet burning, tracing the contours of your waist, gliding upward, curling around your throat once more.
"But I'd like it better," he muses, his lips grazing your ear, "if you were more... specific."
His breath ghosts across your skin, and then—
The sharpest hint of fangs brushes against your pulse.
A shudder wracks through your body, not entirely from fear, though the terror coils tight in your belly like a serpent poised to strike. No, there is something else—something dark and twisted, something that should not exist within you but does.
"You're a vampire," you whisper, the realization falling from your lips like a confession, a prayer, a curse.
A chuckle rumbles from deep within his chest, rich, decadent, intoxicating. The sound alone makes you tremble.
And then, pain.
His teeth sink just enough into your flesh to draw a gasp from your lips but not blood—not yet. A warning. A promise.
"That's my girl," he purrs, his grip tightening, his body pressing yours deeper into the bed. The pressure is suffocating, but you can’t bring yourself to resist.
He looms over you, a vision of exquisite horror, his white button-down hanging loose around his collarbone, the stark contrast of his ivory skin against the black void of his pupils.
And those fangs.
God, those fangs.
You shiver, dread crawling up your spine as the realization sets in—he has done this before. Countless times. The blood on his lips, unseen but known, whispers of past lovers, past victims, past lives stolen away in the dead of night.
You can’t breathe.
You can’t move.
You don’t want to.
"Easy there," he cooes, his tone mockingly tender, his hands steady as they keep you exactly where he wants you—beneath him, within his grasp, at his mercy.
His head dips lower, and your heartbeat stutters violently, only to slow—unbearably slow—as he does nothing more than inhale your scent.
"Why me?" you choke out, a fragile sob, your voice barely more than a breath.
He does not answer at first. Instead, he studies you, his gaze as sharp as the fangs that have yet to pierce deeper. And then—
"Because you're special."
A pause. A correction.
"Your blood is."
The words cut deeper than any blade, more brutal than his touch. A tear spills, trailing hot down your cheek.
And he only smiles.
"Now, shut up, and let me take care of you," he growls, his voice finally baring the hunger he has so masterfully concealed until now.
"Wait—"
A thousand bolts of lightning tear through you, each one more searing than the last. The pain is consuming, white-hot, unbearable. You swear you are being ripped apart from the inside out, burned and frozen, shattered and remade all at once.
Then came euphoria. Pain gave way to pleasure, a feeling so good it was impossible to say it came from a vampire lapping at your blood. Your body went limp, unable to fight back, and even if you could, you wouldn't, for you wanted more.
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