milki 🩵

synopsis :: which the bllk boys ask for nudes, buut they weren’t specific..

characters :: sae itoshi, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, rin itoshi, meguru bachira, eita otoya, hyoma chigiri + reo mikage

warnings :: crack, name calling (slut, etc), idk

w reader going ti a party and getting insanely drunk and clingy and sae having to take care of her :3

you and sae both went to a party together. well, only you did the partying, sae watched from a distance to make sure you were safe. and maybe you had a drink or two that was a little too strong for your tolerance, causing you to go up to random men, “saeee? wheres sae?.. hic! y’re not sae,” the man looked at you with other intentions in mind, reaching out to grab you-

“that’s enough. time to go home.” sae forcefully yanked you to his side by the collar of your shirt, wrapping an arm around your waist. you, clueless about what was happening was ecstatic when you saw him. “sae! sae baby you won’t believe what i saw just nowww!” and he lets out a hum of acknowledgment for you to keep going, heading over to the exit.

“what happened hm?” “there was.. umm.. i forgot!-” sae sighed, struggling to walk towards his car since you were leaning against him, completely wasted and body limp. eventually, he stopped walking and pulled you to his chest. “spread your legs.” “here?! w’re not having sex here!” and he almost choked when he heard you. “no, i- oh my god. so i can carry you, princess.” he picked you up like you were a couple of grapes, making sure you wrap your limbs around him before starting to walk again, his hands rested underneath your thighs, taking you to the car.

as you both got home, you stumbled into the house and onto the couch as he went towards the kitchen to get water for you. “saee.. i feel like i’m dying..” and sae can only take a breath, bringing the water towards you and forcefully making you chug it all, holding your chin up with one hand and pouring the water into your mouth with the other. “who told you to drink so much hm? what did i say about playing games where they made you take shots as punishment?” you rolled your eyes, drinking all the water anyways. “y’re so noisy.. always scolding me.” you pause, staring at him with hazed eyes. “..i do feel like m gonna faint tho.” and he seemed unfazed.

“mm. do faint. makes it easier for me to take care of you.” “excuse- …me..?..” and you blacked out the next second. sae let out a breath of relief and carried you to the bedroom, laying you onto the bed and grabbing your make up remover and skin care products. he’s watched your routine long enough to know which to apply in what order.

after doing your skin care, he pressed a gentle kiss onto your lips, being grateful that his lips weren’t stained with the sickeningly sweet strawberry rose flavoured lipgloss you always put on. sae grabbed one of his jerseys and your shorts, slipping you out of that dress that barely covered anything and quickly slipped on the clothes he just grabbed, tucking you into bed. “sleep well, baby.”

in the morning, you woke up with a godly painful headache, but for some reason there was a note, pills and a cup of water on the bedside table

written for @heartkaji. sweetest eighteen to my favourite pink captain 🖤 i love you with all my heart mars. you're so funny n cool, pls don't ever die. much love. xo, sen.

isagi yoichi leaned against the ledge with a cigarette dangling from his soft cherry lips. he took a long drag before flicking the empty ashes and remnants away, watching it fall into dark nothingness. tired eyes glanced at the stairwell where you emerged from, a tiny little smirk so naked to the eye surfaced from his pool of tiredness.

your eyebrows furrowed at the sight of the epitome of a perfect man smoking and it simply piqued your interest just as much as he knew you, the troublemaker ( yet secretly extremely smart ) girl of his college, would spill this exact moment to everyone on campus.

yoichi is well aware of that, yet he still remains silent when you join him to lean against the ledge. the city drags beneath, casting neon glows all around below you.

"may i ask why is the most perfect guy on campus smoking?" you striked a conversation, while yoichi nonchalantly shrug.

"stress relief. and before you lecture me, yes, i know it's bad for me," he exhaled slowly, watching the smoke disperse in the night air.

you stole a glance at him, "so the most perfect people have some kind of pathetic side to them too."

yoichi’s expression twisted into slight annoyance at your harmless teasing, but he didn't correct you. instead, he turned his gaze back to the city skyline, his eyes distant as he contemplated something. "pathetic side? you have no idea," he muttered under his breath, voice barely audible over the wind.

"is it because of all the expectations?"

his body tensed, his knuckles white as he gripped the cigarette a bit tighter, slightly crushing the inside.

"you're the only one who's ever asked me that," he said softly, his tone a bit unguarded for once. he took another drag, the orange tip glowing in the dark before disappearing. a flicker of vulnerability played in his usually steady gaze.

"the expectations... they're suffocating. i'm supposed to be perfect in every way. perfect grades, perfect attitude, perfect sports record, perfect future. but sometimes... i just want to fucking break something."

"then... break something," you softly replied, before taking his cigarette out his mouth and putting it on your own.

despite being the college troublemaker, it appears cigarettes are the ones troubling you when your fingers immediately move to take it out, coughing in the process.

the young isagi watched your every move, transfixed, as you coughed and stumbled back, the cigarette still between your fingers. for a moment, he just stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest. then, without thinking, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him.

"you're so fucking annoying," he snatched the cigarette back from you, taking a deep drag. "you can't even smoke right," he muttered, his eyes crinkling at the corners despite his scowl.

"i don't even smoke, mr. perfect," you huffed as he smirked at your admission.

"no shit, troublemaker," he flicked the cigarette over the edge of the roof.

just like every other time, it fell into the darkness below, a small orange dot until it disappeared. "hey, y/n?"

you hummed in response, still tasting the essence of the cigarette in your mouth. yoichi takes another drag for the umpteenth time. "i feel like the world is going to end soon," he steps closer to you, eyes locked onto your very soul as you instinctively take a few steps back.

"don't play with fire."

"too late," he muttered, his eyes glued to yours. he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. "i'm already burned.”

the ravenhead paused, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. and all this time, you remained silent, anticipating the next move. something in you tells you that whatever the hell you desire in this moment,

you must fall into a pit of his sufferings. though, that does not sound a bit bad at all. the most perfect student in college is what you've been desiring after all these years of being a troublesome individual to gain a speck of his attention after all.

his hand moved to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin in such a gentle caress that the perfect yoichi isagi ceases to exist at this moment. "i'm going to kiss you if you don't tell me to stop."

no words escaped your lips, and he took it as a sign to press his lips against yours. when he kissed you, the feeling of his lips intoxicated you immediately. the flavour of cigarettes and mint all mixed up and in your mouth felt like nothing could ever go wrong ever again.

Talking Body

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

Wanings: A lil spicy

[1,124 words]

      It started off as a joke. A playful challenge thrown out in the heat of the moment.

      “Let’s make this interesting,” you had said, twirling the soccer ball between your fingers. “Every time one of us loses a point, we take something off.”

      Isagi had laughed at first, shaking his head at your ridiculous idea. “You’re crazy.”

      “And you’re scared.”

      That did it. His competitive streak flared up instantly, and the next thing you knew, the two of you were on the field, the stakes set, the rules simple: first to five goals wins. Each time one of you lost, an article of clothing had to go.

      It had been easy at first. Lighthearted. Fun.

      Then you lost your first point.

      With a dramatic sigh, you peeled off your shirt, revealing the blue sports bra underneath. You didn’t think much of it—after all, it was just a game.

      But Isagi? Oh, he thought about it.

      One second, he was a finely tuned soccer machine, razor-focused and ready to dominate. The next, he was malfunctioning. His eyes darted to your bare shoulders, then to the exposed sliver of skin, then to anywhere but you, as if looking directly at you would short-circuit his brain completely.

      “Ichi,” you called sweetly, rolling the ball under your foot. “Something wrong?”

      He swallowed thickly, visibly trying to reset himself. “Nope. All good.”

      Lies.

      You smirked. Oh, this is going to be fun.

      The game resumed, but Isagi was playing like a man distracted. He was still good—because, well, he was Isagi Yoichi—but his movements weren’t as sharp, his focus wasn’t as locked in. And every time you stretched for a pass or dashed across the field, his eyes lingered.

      How the hell was he supposed to focus when you looked like that?

      The way your body moved as you ran, the way your sports bra clung to your skin, damp with sweat, the way your chest bounced with every step—oh, he was losing it.

      He tried. He really did. But his eyes kept betraying him, trailing down the glistening sheen of sweat rolling down your neck, disappearing into the valley between your breasts. His mouth felt dry. His mind was lagging.

      And you knew.

      You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

      You turned to him with a smirk, stretching your arms above your head just to mess with him, making your already distracting figure even worse for his poor, overwhelmed brain.

      It wasn’t long before you scored your first goal against him.

      Isagi groaned, dragging a hand down his face before reaching for the hem of his own shirt. “Fine, fine—” He pulled it off, exposing toned abs and lean muscle, his body glistening slightly under the heat of the match.

      Now you were the one faltering.

      He noticed. And smirked.

      "Something wrong?" he echoed your earlier words, tilting his head.

      You huffed, rolling your shoulders. "Not at all."

      But as the game went on, the tension only grew. The stakes were getting higher, and the amount of clothing left was getting dangerously low.

      The game had never been this intense before.

      You were both down to the wire, the score neck and neck. Isagi had managed to claw his way back from his distractions—barely—forcing himself to focus on the ball instead of the way your sweat-soaked skin glowed under the fading sunlight. But it was so damn hard. Every time you sprinted past him, every time you stretched to steal the ball, every time your breath hitched in effort, his mind wandered.

      And yet, despite all of that, he won. He had to, because that little pervert was fanatasizing about seeing you with less and less clothes on. And he knew if he wanted to see that, he needed to win.

      The final goal came in a blur. His body moving on pure instinct, a perfect strike that sent the ball flying past your defenses and straight into the goal.

      “Yes!” he pumped his fist in the air, grinning ear to ear. His victory was sweet.

      You sighed, hands on your hips as you looked at the scoreboard. “Damn,” you muttered, lips curling into something dangerously playful. “A deal’s a deal.”

      Isagi’s breath caught in his throat as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of your shorts and, without a shred of hesitation, slid them down your legs.

      Time slowed.

      He was sure he heard the circuit board in his brain fry.

      You were now standing there, utterly unbothered, in just your bra and panties. Isagi stood frozen, eyes wide, body locked in place like he’d been hit by a freight train.

      Oh, he was so dead.

      His mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. Words? He had none. His brain had been wiped of all vocabulary. All he could do was stare. His face was red, ears burning, pupils completely blown out as if his soul had left his body.

      "Yoichi," you cooed, tilting your head, "you good?"

      He snapped out of it with a harsh gulp, forcing himself to tear his gaze away. "Yeah—yeah, I’m good," he lied, voice an octave higher than usual.

      You giggled, rolling the ball under your foot. "You sure? You’re looking kinda flustered over there."

      "Flustered? Me?" He scoffed, trying to play it cool. "Pfft. Please. I—"

      His words died in his throat when you turned around, giving him an even better view as you bent slightly to grab your water bottle.

      You stepped closer, and Isagi stumbled back. His hands were up like you were about to kill him, his face practically on fire. “W-Wait, hold on—”

      “What?” you smirked. “You won, fair and square. This is just the rules, right?”

      “Y-Yeah, but—but you—” He was malfunctioning, his brain shorting out with every second he looked at you. He wanted to look away, needed to look away, but he couldn’t. His eyes were glued to every inch of bare skin, his thoughts a mess of oh my god oh my god oh my god—

      You stepped closer again, just enough to invade his space, tilting your head at him with feigned innocence. “Ichi,” you said, voice sweet and teasing, “you’re staring.”

      “I—I’M NOT—”

      He was. He so was.

      “There’s nothing wrong with a boyfriend admiring his girlfriend. Why so nervous, baby?” you teased, tapping a finger against his chest with a sly smile.

      “Y-Yeah, but—” he stammered, visibly struggling to form a coherent thought.

      You cut him off with a low, sultry whisper, stepping closer until your body was flush against his bare chest. “How about this…”

      His breath hitched.

      “If you win the next round,” you murmured, your lips barely inches from his, voice dripping with temptation, “I’ll let you fuck me.”

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

Content: 'Slursagi' trends on twitter

[1,608 words]

      The first time you found out about ‘slursagi’ was on your third date. The two of you had decided to take a walk down one of his favorite streets, a simple and peaceful activity he often enjoyed. You’d quickly learned how much he appreciated these strolls, finding relaxation in the hum of natural life around him.

      As the walk stretched on, hunger crept up on both of you, and the nearest option happened to be a small street vendor selling taiyaki. The smell of the warm, sweet treats made your stomach rumble, so you both decided to stop. While you waited in line, Isagi fumbled with his wallet, muttering something about having too many receipts stuffed into it.

      Out of nowhere, a random guy walked up behind you and grabbed your ass. You yelped, startled and horrified. Unfortunately, incidents like this weren’t unheard of in the rougher areas of town, where random creeps thought they could get away with anything.

      But before you could even process what had happened, Isagi was already moving. It was as if he had some kind of metavision. You couldn’t help but briefly wonder if he was secretly a vampire like Edward Cullen with how fast he processed it.

      Without hesitation, Isagi spun around and delivered a punch square to the guy’s face, the impact so forceful it sent the creep stumbling backward. And then he said it. Words you never thought you’d hear from the soft-spoken and polite Yoichi Isagi.

      “If you ever touch another girl again, especially my girl, I’ll cut your dick off and force-feed it down your throat, you scummy, fucking, monkey-brained filthy roach.” The sheer venom in his tone left you stunned. It was such a stark contrast to the sweet, dorky guy you knew. Isagi wasn’t just a soft-spoken boy with a love for soccer, snacks, his parents, and you. He was fiercely protective of the people he cared about.

      The creep quickly fled, muttering something unintelligible under his breath, but Isagi didn’t look away until he was sure the guy was gone. Then, turning back to you, he immediately softened, his hands reaching out to make sure you were okay.

      “Are you alright, Y/n-chan?” he asked, his voice returning to its usual gentle tone.

      You nodded, still slightly in shock but feeling a newfound appreciation for the man standing in front of you.

      That day, you learned two things about Isagi Yoichi. One: he cursed like a sailor when the situation called for it. And two: he would go to war to protect you.

      The peaceful stillness of the morning was shattered by the relentless buzzing of Isagi’s phone. It felt like the world was ending with the sheer number of notifications lighting up the screen. Ever since he’d shot to fame and made friends in Blue Lock, you’d been telling that little idiot to put his phone on “Do Not Disturb” before bed, but he never listened. To make matters worse, he was a heavy sleeper, so naturally, you were the one stuck dealing with it.

      You were currently trapped in a bear lock, his strong arms securely wrapped around you, holding you in place. To make things more inconvenient, his phone was on the opposite side of the bed, meaning you’d have to climb over him to turn it off. You wiggled in his grasp, trying to break free, but his firm biceps made it difficult.

      “Yoichi…” you mumbled groggily, your voice still heavy with sleep. No response. You tried again, wriggling harder, and after what felt like an eternity, you managed to slip out of his hold. He remained sound asleep, drooling on his pillow like the idiot he was—an idiot you couldn’t help but find adorable.

      Carefully climbing over him, you reached for his phone, ready to put an end to the constant notifications. But as your eyes landed on the screen, curiosity got the better of you. The group chat he shared with some of the Blue Lock members was blowing up. You hesitated for a moment before sneaking a peek at the messages.

      Oh. My. God.

      You quickly switched to Twitter. The entire internet was in an uproar over a clip of Isagi absolutely roasting Kaiser. The video had apparently been clipped from the background of a Facebook Live that Chris Prince was hosting to promote his water brand. In the back, Isagi had lost his patience with Kaiser’s bullshit, calling him a “Sausage-creating, Hansel-and-Gretel-watching, sauerkraut-munching, monkey” among other… colorful insults.

      Memes and jokes were everywhere. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scold Isagi for the potential PR disaster. Some were happy Isagi put Kaiser in his place, others found his choice of words hilarious. You snickered, flopping back onto your side of the bed, phone in hand. Then, turning toward your sleeping boyfriend, you shook him awake.

      “Huh? Wha—? Yes! I’d still love you if you were a worm!” he mumbled, scrambling awake and spouting nonsense.

      “What?” you asked, blinking at him in disbelief.

      “Oh… uh… good morning, love.” He gave you a sleepy smile, but his eyes noticed his phone in your hand, then back to your not-so-amused expression.

      “What’d I do this time?” he asked, pouting and puffing out his cheeks like a kid caught sneaking candy. You couldn’t hold back your laughter at his expression.

      “Here, look,” you said, squishing his cheeks playfully as you handed him the phone.

      He scrolled through the notifications, his face slowly turning red as he read the messages. On the field, Isagi was harsh and determined, but off the field? He was a bundle of shy awkwardness, and the contrast was always entertaining.

      “Fuck,” was all he managed to say after reading everything. He shot off a quick message to his friends before tossing the phone onto the nightstand.

      “You think anyone would believe me if I said it was a fake AI-generated video?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

      “No, baby. I don’t think so.”

      “Well at least they’re mostly just laughing. That’s good, right? No one seems mad.” he stuck his tongue out like a sad cat.

      “Yeah, because it was funny as hell,” you replied with a grin.

      “The root of all my problems is that braindead clown fucker.” Isagi rolled his eyes before trying to settle back comfortably again in bed.

      “You kiss your mother with that mouth, Isagi?” You messed with him.

      “Yeah, and I kiss my girlfriend with it too,” He leaned in, attempting to kiss you, but you pulled away, and his face twisted into a look of betrayal. He looked at you as if you had just stabbed him and stole his wallet.

      “Bruh,” he said, his voice laced with indignation.

      “I’m not kissing that filthy mouth,” you teased, shaking your head.

      “As if your language is any cleaner!” he shot back. Ugh, so sassy.

      "How do you think your parents would feel? Do you have any shame?" you teased, sighing dramatically as if you were truly scandalized. Isagi rolled his eyes at your exaggerated attempt to mock him, already accustomed to your antics. He thought girlfriends were supposed to be sweet and supportive, not relentless little trolls.

      "Good thing they have no idea how to operate the internet," he mumbled, his voice groggy. His eyes were still half-closed, and it was obvious he was debating whether to stay awake or fall back asleep. The way your fingers intertwined with his and your gentle touch playing with his hair wasn’t helping his case for staying conscious. It was too soothing.

      "Slursagi," you snickered, a soft laugh escaping as you tried not to wake him fully.

      "Mmmhnf, don’t call me that," he whined, dragging out the words in a sleepy, childlike complaint.

      "My," you said, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. "Foul," you added, kissing the other corner. "Mouthed," another kiss. "Boyfriend," one more.

      By now, he was grumbling, brows furrowed in mild irritation. "Just kiss me already," he muttered, clearly unimpressed by the teasing. He wanted a real kiss, not these fleeting corner-of-the-lip ones you were so smugly doling out.

      "Make me, Slursagi," you teased, the name rolling off your tongue with a mischievous smirk.

      "I said stop calling me that, brat," he grumbled, his voice low and laced with annoyance.

      Oh? That tone caught your attention.

      "Or what?" you challenged.

      Isagi cracked one eye open to glare at you, his face a mix of sleepiness and displeasure. It was clear he wasn’t going to let you off the hook so easily this time. His expression practically screamed, keep testing me, and you’ll find out.

      You decided to back off, realizing you weren’t ready to deal with feral Isagi this early in the morning. As tempting as it was to keep teasing him, you knew you’d be the one paying the price if you pushed him too far. Nope, not today.

      Instead, you just chuckled to yourself, leaning back against the pillows as Isagi snuggled closer, clearly surrendering to sleep again. His breathing grew softer, and soon, he was fully asleep, his face buried comfortably against your shoulder.

      Meanwhile, you scrolled through Twitter, quietly laughing at all the memes people had already whipped up about him. They ranged from clever wordplay to ridiculous photoshops of Isagi. One particularly hilarious edit had Isagi wielding a soccer ball like Thor’s hammer, with the caption: 'Isagi Yoichi: Destroyer of Egos.'

he didn't respond to your discord invite to call, nor did he even see your message asking to game. although you initially suspected he was ghosting you, you come to realise that he hasn't even been logging in to any of his games, which meant he hadn't been gaming at all. when a week passes and it's still radio silence from hiori, you get worried. you regret not asking him a little more about himself, because how useful can knowing he's from the kansai region be if something bad actually happened to him?