ubers team general headcanons

everyone on the team secretly knows they’re the “organized crime” themed squad. they lean into it. their pre-game huddles sound like mafia sitdowns. “you don’t go down unless i say so,” aiku announces, while sendou nods like he’s his consultant. niko has no idea what that means but he goes, “got it, boss.” 

snuffy runs a tight ship, but never disrespects anyone. his “fatherly” energy isn’t loud – it’s quiet, composed, and deeply respectful. he cooks post-match meals like a literal dad. big “who wants more steak?” energy. the boys make fun of him but never to his face because they all lowkey adore him. 

when it comes to chores, niko does the dishes. reluctantly. because the last time sendou did them, aiku got food poisoning + lorenzo is banned from the kitchen because he once tried to make “gains ramen” which was just protein powder, boiled chicken, and pre-workout. snuffy had to call poison control. 

their team group chat is horrific. aiku sends gym thirst traps with captions like “morning motivation.” sendou sends cursed memes at 3 AM (niko replies with “please stop”). snuffy sends quotes from philosophers like “a man who conquers himself is mightier than he who conquers a city.” everyone reacts with 🫡. lorenzo only sends selfies and flex pics with random motivational phrases like “get money, stay jacked.” 

aiku oliver & sendou daiya – the menace duo

literally the worst pair to be seated near on team trips. they will prank everyone. lorenzo once woke up with his chains braided. niko caught it on camera and it went viral in the ubers gc. 

sendou tries to act cool around girls but somehow always fumbles. aiku lets him crash and burn every time. “you’re doing amazing, sweetie,” he deadpans as sendou gets rejected for calling someone “m’lady.” 

despite their chaos, they always have each other’s backs on the field. aiku trusts sendou’s instincts, and sendou follows aiku’s leads without question. it’s instinctual, like they’re synced. they don’t even need to talk sometimes, they just know. 

niko ikki – baby of the team

everyone thinks niko’s this quiet little strategist, but he’s also the most chronically online member of ubers. he runs their meme account anonymously. only snuffy knows. snuffy lets it slide because niko always includes respectful captions under snuffy edits like “our king 🫡” 

lorenzo calls him “kid.” sendou calls him “baby bro.” aiku once called him “squirt” and niko didn’t speak to him for a week. but deep down he’s grateful because he’s never had this kind of camaraderie before. 

sometimes he’ll be sulking in a corner after a rough game and snuffy just walks over, sits down beside him, and hands him a juice box. “you did good, kid.” niko cries. silently. every time. 

don lorenzo – chaos incarnate, misunderstood legend

he eats protein powder raw. sendou dared him once to snort it. he did. it was not a good day. 

he’s rich. obscenely so. he always flashes his gold teeth and quotes, “i only trust two things: muscle and money.” he funds team bonding trips without blinking. his idea of bonding? paintball war in the woods. 

has the softest spot for niko and treats him like a tiny feral cat he found outside and adopted. “he’s scrappy. he’s got instincts. he’s family now.” niko just blinks like 🧍🏻 

snuffy and lorenzo have a dad and rebellious teen son energy. snuffy’s constantly like “don’t do anything stupid,” and lorenzo’s like “no promises, papà.” but whenever snuffy’s serious, lorenzo listens like a soldier. no matter how wild he acts, he respects snuffy like a father figure. 

snuffy – the dad of the year

gives out the gentlest life lectures. “football’s like pasta, boys. you gotta boil under pressure to get good.” everyone’s like “… what?” but then they do get good. 

refuses to raise his voice. instead, he lowers it. when he’s disappointed, everyone feels like they just let down their entire lineage. 

he makes each player write down their goals and reviews them monthly. lorenzo once wrote “get more gains and less enemies.” snuffy nodded like that was a valid mission statement. 

if you cry in front of him, he’ll give you a side hug and pat your back once. just once. but it’ll heal you emotionally. 

ubers team general headcanons

everyone on the team secretly knows they’re the “organized crime” themed squad. they lean into it. their pre-game huddles sound like mafia sitdowns. “you don’t go down unless i say so,” aiku announces, while sendou nods like he’s his consultant. niko has no idea what that means but he goes, “got it, boss.” 

snuffy runs a tight ship, but never disrespects anyone. his “fatherly” energy isn’t loud – it’s quiet, composed, and deeply respectful. he cooks post-match meals like a literal dad. big “who wants more steak?” energy. the boys make fun of him but never to his face because they all lowkey adore him. 

when it comes to chores, niko does the dishes. reluctantly. because the last time sendou did them, aiku got food poisoning + lorenzo is banned from the kitchen because he once tried to make “gains ramen” which was just protein powder, boiled chicken, and pre-workout. snuffy had to call poison control. 

their team group chat is horrific. aiku sends gym thirst traps with captions like “morning motivation.” sendou sends cursed memes at 3 AM (niko replies with “please stop”). snuffy sends quotes from philosophers like “a man who conquers himself is mightier than he who conquers a city.” everyone reacts with 🫡. lorenzo only sends selfies and flex pics with random motivational phrases like “get money, stay jacked.” 

aiku oliver & sendou daiya – the menace duo

literally the worst pair to be seated near on team trips. they will prank everyone. lorenzo once woke up with his chains braided. niko caught it on camera and it went viral in the ubers gc. 

sendou tries to act cool around girls but somehow always fumbles. aiku lets him crash and burn every time. “you’re doing amazing, sweetie,” he deadpans as sendou gets rejected for calling someone “m’lady.” 

despite their chaos, they always have each other’s backs on the field. aiku trusts sendou’s instincts, and sendou follows aiku’s leads without question. it’s instinctual, like they’re synced. they don’t even need to talk sometimes, they just know. 

niko ikki – baby of the team

everyone thinks niko’s this quiet little strategist, but he’s also the most chronically online member of ubers. he runs their meme account anonymously. only snuffy knows. snuffy lets it slide because niko always includes respectful captions under snuffy edits like “our king 🫡” 

lorenzo calls him “kid.” sendou calls him “baby bro.” aiku once called him “squirt” and niko didn’t speak to him for a week. but deep down he’s grateful because he’s never had this kind of camaraderie before. 

sometimes he’ll be sulking in a corner after a rough game and snuffy just walks over, sits down beside him, and hands him a juice box. “you did good, kid.” niko cries. silently. every time. 

don lorenzo – chaos incarnate, misunderstood legend

he eats protein powder raw. sendou dared him once to snort it. he did. it was not a good day. 

he’s rich. obscenely so. he always flashes his gold teeth and quotes, “i only trust two things: muscle and money.” he funds team bonding trips without blinking. his idea of bonding? paintball war in the woods. 

has the softest spot for niko and treats him like a tiny feral cat he found outside and adopted. “he’s scrappy. he’s got instincts. he’s family now.” niko just blinks like 🧍🏻 

snuffy and lorenzo have a dad and rebellious teen son energy. snuffy’s constantly like “don’t do anything stupid,” and lorenzo’s like “no promises, papà.” but whenever snuffy’s serious, lorenzo listens like a soldier. no matter how wild he acts, he respects snuffy like a father figure. 

snuffy – the dad of the year

gives out the gentlest life lectures. “football’s like pasta, boys. you gotta boil under pressure to get good.” everyone’s like “… what?” but then they do get good. 

refuses to raise his voice. instead, he lowers it. when he’s disappointed, everyone feels like they just let down their entire lineage. 

he makes each player write down their goals and reviews them monthly. lorenzo once wrote “get more gains and less enemies.” snuffy nodded like that was a valid mission statement. 

if you cry in front of him, he’ll give you a side hug and pat your back once. just once. but it’ll heal you emotionally. 

The city lights flickered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your downtown apartment, but the vibe inside was anything but romantic. You'd been dating Caleb for months now– childhood friends turned something more after reconnecting at a college reunion. He was still the same reliable guy: a commercial pilot with that easy smile and a habit of showing up with your favorite things of the moment. But lately, his jealousy had been simmering, especially since you started your new job at the marketing firm, surrounded by charismatic coworkers.

It all came to a head after a late-night work event. You got home around midnight, buzzing from the successful pitch but exhausted. Caleb was on the couch, scrolling through his phone, but the tension hit you the second you walked in.

"Hey, how was the mixer?" he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes were sharp.

"Fun, actually. We nailed the client presentation, and everyone was celebrating. Jake even bought a round for the team," you replied, kicking off your heels and collapsing next to him.

Caleb's jaw tightened at the mention of Jake– your flirty colleague who'd been a bit too friendly lately. "Jake, huh? The guy who keeps texting you about 'work stuff' at 10 p.m.?"

You sighed, sensing where this was going. "It's professional, Caleb. He's my project lead. We have deadlines."

He set his phone down, turning to face you fully. "Professional? Come on, I've seen the way he looks at you in those group photos you post. And you're always laughing at his dumb jokes. It's like you're encouraging it."

"Encouraging what? Being friendly at work?" Your voice rose, frustration bubbling up. "You're acting like I'm cheating or something. We've been together since we were kids– don't you trust me?"

He ran a hand through his hair, his pilot's composure cracking. "It's not you I don't trust; it's guys like him. I know how this plays out. I travel for work, gone for days, and meanwhile, he's right there, charming you with happy hours and inside jokes. Remember that time in high school when that exchange student kept hitting on you? You were too nice to say no– I had to step in."

You stood up, incredulous. "Step in? Caleb, we're not in high school anymore! I'm an adult with a career, not some damsel waiting for you to play hero. Your jealousy is suffocating– it's like you think I'll jump ship the second you're not around."

His face flushed, a mix of hurt and defensiveness. "Jealousy? This is me caring. If I didn't give a damn, I wouldn't say anything. But fine, if I'm such a burden, go ahead and hang out with Jake all you want."

The words stung, twisting the knife. You grabbed your keys, tears pricking your eyes. "You know what? Maybe I will. At least he doesn't make me feel like I'm on a leash."

You stormed out, the door slamming echoing down the hall. The drive to the old suburbs was a blur, rain starting to patter on the windshield as you pulled up to the childhood spot. The treehouse loomed in the backyard, a forgotten haven from simpler fights over toys and crushes.

You climbed the ladder, shaking off the drizzle– and paused. The treehouse wasn’t dusty or abandoned like you’d half-expected. It was clean, the blankets folded and dry, the quiet evidence of Caleb’s care annoyingly lingering in every corner.

You’d been tucked there for long enough that the rain on the roof had ceased.

The treehouse swayed gently in the late night breeze, its wooden walls creaking like a soft sigh, cocooning you in a world of faded starlight filtering through the leaves. Pillows were heaped in plush mounds around you, blankets tangled in inviting disarray, their fabrics worn soft from countless lazy afternoons. You nestled in the corner, knees drawn up to your chest, the book in your lap a flimsy shield against the ache in your heart. The pages blurred under your unfocused gaze, the rustle of branches overhead a soothing whisper that promised isolation from the world.

But the ladder groaned under weight, betraying your solitude. Wood protested with each step, the sound slow and deliberate, as if the climber knew he was intruding.

“Baby?” Caleb’s voice drifted up first, tentative and hushed, laced with a vulnerability that didn’t match the hulking frame you knew so well. He emerged through the hatch, ducking his broad shoulders to fit, his mussed hair catching the golden light of the fairy lights, eyes wide and shadowed with guilt. At over six feet of solid muscle, he should have dominated the space, but he shrank himself down, folding his limbs carefully as he knelt on the edge of the platform.

“Thought I'd find you here..” He set a grocery bag in the corner.

You didn’t glance up, arms crossed tight over your chest, the book a barrier you clung to. The air thickened with his presence– the faint scent of him and the earthy cologne he always wore, wafting toward you as he hesitated.

He inched forward on hands and knees, the blankets dipping under his weight, his massive form making the treehouse feel even smaller. His knee brushed your hip first, a tentative touch that sent a shiver through you despite your resolve. “Please, baby,” he murmured, voice low and cracking at the edges, “don’t stay mad at me. I hate it when I make you feel like this. I... I messed up, I know.”

His hand hovered near your side, fingers trembling slightly before he dared to rest it there, palm warm and encompassing through the thin blanket draped over you. The heat of him seeped in, a stark contrast to the cool air whispering through the slats. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting your shoulder, and you could feel the sheer size of him– the way his body loomed, yet held back, careful not to overwhelm.

You kept your gaze fixed on the page, lips pressed into a thin line, refusing to give him an inch.

Caleb didn’t retreat. Instead, he nosed in gently, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the curve of your shoulder, his lips plush and warm against the fabric of your blouse. “Let me make it better,” he whispered, the words tickling your skin as he trailed upward, another kiss to the line of your jaw, slow and reverent. His stubble rasped faintly, a sensory tease that made your pulse quicken unwillingly. He lingered there, breath warm and uneven, before brushing his lips over your cheek, then your temple, each press growing a fraction bolder, hungrier, like he was savoring the permission he hadn’t yet earned.

His hand slid up your side, fingers splaying wide to cover more of you, thumb stroking in lazy circles that sent tingles radiating outward. He tried for your mouth– slow, inciting, his lips parting yours with gentle insistence. You held stiff at first, but he persisted, tongue darting out to trace the seam of your lips, a wet, warm plea that coaxed them open. The kiss deepened languidly, his tongue brushing yours in soft, swirling strokes, tasting faintly of mint and desperation. A quiet whimper escaped him, muffled against your mouth, as he poured himself into it, body shifting closer until his chest nearly brushed yours.

You didn’t unfold your arms, making him chase every response. He broke the kiss with a soft gasp, eyes searching yours in the dim light, pupils dilating as he whispered, “Please... touch me. Or just... let me touch you. I need to feel you forgive me.” His free hand came up, cupping your cheek with surprising tenderness for someone so large, thumb brushing your lower lip as if remembering its shape.

When you didn’t respond, he dipped lower, lips trailing feather-light down your neck, kissing the pulse point where your heartbeat betrayed you. His breath was hot there, tongue darting out for a slow lick that made your skin prickle with goosebumps. He murmured praises between kisses– “You’re so soft... so perfect... I don’t deserve you, but I’ll earn it, I swear.”

His hand slipped under the blanket, fingers tracing the edge of your skirt, inching the blouse up with agonizing slowness to expose the skin of your stomach. The cool air kissed the newly bared flesh, but his mouth followed, warm and wet, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the soft dip below your navel.

You shifted slightly, the book slipping in your lap, but you let it fall, arms still folded protectively over your chest, denying him access to your breasts. Caleb pouted against your skin, a soft whine escaping him as he nuzzled into the barrier of your crossed arms. “Baby, please... let me see you. Let me kiss you there.” His eyes flicked up, wide and pleading, but when you didn’t budge, he relented with a whimper, trailing lower instead. His lips brushed your hipbone, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of your skin, then lower still, to the sensitive crease where thigh met torso.

His hands were gentle giants, palms sliding up your thighs, thumbs stroking the inner seams with reverent care. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down with excruciating slowness, his eyes locked on yours the whole time, begging silently for you not to stop him as he slipped it off. His broad shoulders wedged your thighs apart as he settled between them, his hefty frame making you feel small and enveloped, his hands nearly spanning your hips entirely. He propped a pillow under you with tender precision, lifting your hips just enough to angle you toward him, his face hovering inches from your core.

Warm breath fanned over your folds through the thin fabric of your panties, making you clench involuntarily. “Are you still mad?” he whispered, voice tremulous, lips brushing your inner thigh in a ghost of a kiss. The stubble on his jaw scraped lightly, a delicious friction that sent sparks up your spine. “Please don’t be. I’ll do anything. Let me make you feel good.” Another kiss, higher now, his nose nudging the edge of your panties as he inhaled deeply, a low groan rumbling from his chest. “You smell so fucking good... always do. Like heaven.”

The fabric dragged over your skin, cool air tickling your bare pussy as he peeled away your panties. He paused, slipping them into his pocket, gaze darkening with awe and hunger. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “God, look at you... so pretty, so wet already. Is that for me? Even when you’re mad?”

You didn’t answer, but a fresh rush of slick glistened under his stare. Caleb whimpered softly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your mound, lips lingering as if in prayer. His thumbs stroked soothing circles on the soft inner skin of your thighs. Then his tongue emerged, flat and broad, for a long, languid lick from your entrance to your clit, savoring every inch like it was honey.

He moaned deeply, the susurration humming through you. “Fuck... you taste like everything I need,” he murmured, filthy and reverent, before diving back in. Slow circles of tongue over the softest parts of you, kissing first, then a long lick, then another, as though he was sure each one would be the one to undo you. His hands held your thighs open, just enough to keep you spread while he kissed every inch. The tip of his tongue flicked your clit, then flattened, pressing broad and warm, drawing lazy figure-eights until you gasped despite yourself.

He was decadent, hungry but careful, like every movement was a vow to overwhelm you, the wet sounds of his mouth blending with the heat of his breath, his stubble rasping against your thighs as his large hands kneaded your flesh like he couldn’t get enough. “Am I doing it right?” he whispered between licks, eyes flicking up to yours. “Tell me... please. I’ll do better. I’ll make you come so hard you forget why you were mad.”

You kept your chin jutted, watching him.

“I’m sorry,” he slurred against your pussy. “Please… don’t be mad…mmph..fuck you taste so good…”

Your hands stayed folded, but your hips began to seek him without your permission. Caleb groaned at the motion, the sound needy, and sealed his lips around your clit, sucking gently, then harder, tongue flicking in a relentless rhythm.

Your hips rolled up to meet his mouth despite yourself, thighs trembling under his grip. Your body betrayed you further when you gasped, coming with a soft shudder, soaking his tongue.

He moaned like you’d blessed him, lapping and suckling, gentle but relentless, until your thighs were shaking and slick dripped down his stubbled jaw to his chest. He groaned softly, desperate and muffled, his whole focus fixed on you as he chased every last tremor of pleasure.

Only when your muted whines turned to soft moans, your hands finally threading into his hair, in an attempt to peel him off, did he pull back. His lips swollen and glistening, eyes heavy-lidded with adoration. “Please,” he begged, crawling up your body with slow, deliberate movements, his solid frame caging you in without crushing. “Let me feel you around me..” He pushed his shorts down just enough, his impossibly thick cock springing free. Veined and flushed, the head weeped pre-cum that smeared against your thigh as he settled between your legs. Your walls fluttered, the girth alone promising a stretch that always bordered on too much.

He rubbed the broad head along your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness, each pass slow and teasing, making you feel every ridge. “Let me inside,” he whispered, kissing your cheek, your neck, breath ragged. “You’re so mmph... I don’t want to hurt you. Tell me if it’s too much.” His eyes searched yours, pleading, as he notched the tip at your entrance, pressing in just the head, stretching you open with a burn that was equal parts ache and bliss.

You gasped, muscles seizing around the intrusion, and he froze, forehead against yours, thumb stroking your hip. “Breathe, baby... that’s it. Good girl. You’re taking me so well already.” Another inch eased in, even thicker, filling you inch by languid inch, his whimpers soft against your ear. “Fuck... so tight. So warm. I’m sorry... let me make it good. Let me earn you back...”

He continued like that– press, pause, kiss; press, pause, praise– his colossal cock dragging against your walls, the fullness building until you shuddered. Bottoming out, buried to the hilt, he groaned raggedly, holding still, hands cupping your face. “Still okay? Still mad?” His voice broke, hips twitching with restraint. “Can I move?”

Caleb was trembling over you, buried to the hilt, chest pressed to yours, his big hands stroking your face like he couldn’t believe you were letting him in.

You held out as long as you could, arms locked over your chest until, you nodded and he visibly relaxed as he started to move.

He rolled his hips, dragging his thick cock against your walls, stretching you full, while kissing you softly through the ache.

His whimpers grew softer, more desperate, his voice breaking with every thrust. “Please… I’ll be better… I swear… am I doing it right? Am I… am I making it up to you?”

He shifted, grinding his hips in deep, filling you until your back arched off the pillows. His lips brushed your ear, breath ragged. “Say I’m your good boy.”

You shuddered, your body betraying you, cunt fluttering around his cock like it wanted him to win. His eyes searched yours, wide and pleading.

Your arms finally slid up around his neck, and he let out a sound halfway between a whimper and a moan, hips stuttering as he kissed your jaw. “Please say I’m your good boy,” he begged softly, moving deeper, slower, filling you with his thick length.

You still ached, still sore at him– but his tenderness, his desperation, the way he filled you like worship, made it impossible to hold on.

Every thrust was filthy devotion, his cock grinding slow and deep, his hands holding you like glass. You melted around him, body caught between resentment and need, until the words tumbled out.

“Good boy.”

The change in him was instant. His whimper cracked into a moan, deep and guttural, his body jerking as though your forgiveness had set him free. His pace shifted– still tender, but hungrier, rolling his hips deeper, grinding his cock against your sweet spot.

“God– yes,” he groaned, kissing you hard, sloppy, like he wanted to eat the words out of your mouth. “Your good boy. Always. Always yours.”

His thrusts grew longer, dragging every inch out before sinking back in, making you feel just how thick he was, how full he could keep you.

“Still sorry,” he whispered against your throat, hips snapping when your cunt clenched. “So sorry– but I’ll fuck you better, I’ll love you better– I’ll never stop making it up to you.”

Each push made your toes curl, your thighs tightening around his waist. He was groaning into your skin, kissing your jaw, titling your head to access your neck, your shoulder with every movement, as though you were sacred.

“Lemme baby– please– can I–”

You bit the pad of his thumb where it cupped your chin, and his eyes snapped to yours. “Come, Caleb…” you whispered, tongue tracing the mark you’d left in his palm.

Caleb’s moan broke open, raw and guttural. He kissed you again, teeth clashing, tongue desperate, hips pounding harder now, chasing the sound. His cock swelled inside you, his whole body shaking as he muttered, “Thank you– fuck, thank you, I’m yours– I’m yours– ”

The edge tore through you, orgasm crashing hot, your body spasming around him. You cried out, clenching tight on his cock, and Caleb lost it– thrusting deep, burying himself with a desperate groan as he came hard, spilling inside you, filling you until it leaked hot down your thighs.

He held you through it, forehead pressed to yours, murmuring “good girl… good girl…” against your lips even as you whispered “good boy” back at him.

Caleb didn’t pull out right away, his thick cock still buried deep inside you, softening but not fully, twitching faintly with the aftershocks of his release. The treehouse settled into a quiet lull, the moment stretching soft and unhurried around you. His gargantuan body draped over yours, chest rising and falling in sync with your breaths. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, lips brushing lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

“Forgiven?” he murmured again, voice a low rasp, cracked from his earlier pleas. His hand stroked down your side, palm broad and warm, fingers tracing the curve of your hip with reverent slowness. You felt him shift slightly, the subtle rock of his hips stirring his cock inside you, not thrusting yet, just a gentle reminder of how full you still were– his cum leaking warm and sticky between your thighs.

You didn’t speak, just tightened your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your fingers threading through his damp hair. A whimper escaped his lips, soft and needy, as he lifted his head to capture your mouth in a languid kiss– tongues sliding together in unhurried strokes, tasting the remnants of your pleasure on each other. He groaned into it, and you felt him harden again, inch by thick inch, swelling inside your sensitive walls until the stretch bordered on exquisite ache once more.

“Baby...” he whispered against your lips, eyes half-lidded and glassy, searching yours with that wide, pleading gaze. “Can I... again? Please? I need you so bad. You feel so good around me– like you’re made for this, for me.” His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers trailing down your stomach, dipping into the mess where you were joined. He gathered some of the slick, his cum mixed with yours, and brought it up, rubbing it slowly and deliberate over your clit, the pad of his thumb circling with feather-light pressure that made your breath hitch.

You arched into the touch, thighs parting wider around his hips, and he took it as permission, his whimper turning into a grateful moan. He didn’t rush, easing back just enough to drag his cock halfway out, the wet slide making every ridge and vein tug at your fluttering walls. The emptiness left you clenching around nothing for a heartbeat, but then he pressed back in– slow, so achingly slow– filling you anew with his girth, making you gasp at the way he stretched you open all over again.

“Fuck... look at that,” he breathed, glancing down between you, his eyes darkening with filthy awe as he watched himself disappear inside you. “... God, you’re so messy, so perfect.” His voice cracked on the last word, hips rolling deep and deliberate, grinding the base of his cock against your clit with each bottom-out. The motion was fluid and unhurried, like he wanted to savor every second of the way your body yielded to him, the soft, wet sounds of skin on skin, the heat building where you connected.

His free hand cupped your breast, his access granted now, thumb brushing over your nipple in lazy circles, pinching just enough to send sparks down your spine. He leaned down, mouth following, lips sealing around the peak with a gentle suck, tongue flicking slow and wet. “Taste so good everywhere,” he murmured against your skin, teeth grazing lightly before he soothed with another lick. The size of him overwhelmed in the best way– his broad frame pinning you gently to the pillows, his cock so thick it made your thighs tremble with each slow thrust, his hands encompassing your curves like he could hold all of you at once.

You whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair, guiding him as he switched to the other breast with the same devoted slowness. His hips kept that steady rhythm– pull out halfway, pause to let you feel the drag, then sink back in deep, rolling to hit that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Slick coated him, easing the way, but the fullness never lessened; if anything, it grew more intense, your body sensitized from the first round, every nerve alight.

“Please... tell me I’m doing good,” he begged softly, lifting his head to kiss your jaw, your cheek, breath hot and ragged against your ear. “Am I making you feel better? Am I still a good boy?” His voice was wrecked, laced with desperation, and when you nodded, whispering it back– “Good boy, my good boy”– he shuddered, hips stuttering for a moment before resuming that wanton, sensual grind.

Emboldened by your words of affirmation, he grew grittier, filthier, without losing the tenderness. One hand hooked under your knee, lifting your leg higher over his hip, opening you wider for him. The new angle let him sink even deeper, his cock kissing your cervix with each roll, the pressure building low in your belly. “Gonna fill you again,” he whispered, lips brushing your neck as he nipped there lightly, soothing with his tongue. “Make you leak with me... mark you inside. You like that? Feeling me drip out of you?”

His words sent heat flooding through you, and you clenched around him, drawing a deep, guttural moan from his chest. He responded by slipping his fingers back down, gathering more of your combined mess to use as lube. He rubbed your clit in time with his thrusts, slow circles that turned slicker with every pass. The squelching grew obscene as he fucked into you, wet and unrestrained, his deeper thrusts drawing breathless gasps and broken whimpers from you both.

“You look at me like that and expect me to behave?” He propped himself up on one elbow, gazing down at you with that mix of adoration and hunger. His free hand slid down your side, thumb circling your hipbone.

Before you could respond, he rolled you both so you were straddling him without breaking the connection. The new angle made you gasp, his cock pressing deeper, fuller from this position. The treehouse creaked softly under the movement as he settled into the pillows, hands gripping your thighs.

"Ride me, baby," he whispered, voice husky, eyes locked on yours. "Use me until you're not mad anymore."

Your hands found purchase on his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart under your palms. He was still thick inside you, the mix of your releases making everything slick and sensitive. You rocked experimentally, a slow grind that dragged his length against your walls, and he groaned, head falling back against the pillows.

"Fuck... just like that." His fingers dug into your hips, guiding without forcing, letting you set the pace. But his restraint was fraying– you could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the subtle buck of his hips meeting yours.

You leaned forward, bracing on his shoulders, and picked up speed, rising and falling in deliberate strokes. Each drop buried him to the hilt, your clit grinding against his pelvis with every roll. Caleb's moans grew louder, unrestrained, his big hands roaming– cupping your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples until they pebbled under his touch.

"You're so beautiful like this," he panted, one hand sliding up into your hair, pulling you down for a messy kiss. Tongues tangled, wet and urgent, as you rode him harder, the slap of skin echoing in the small space. He broke the kiss with a gasp, lips trailing to your neck, sucking a mark there possessively. "All mine... no one else gets this. Say it."

You bit your lip, holding out, but his cock hit that spot inside you over and over, the friction driving you wild. "Yours," you finally breathed, and he rewarded you with a deep thrust upward, making you mewl.

"Good girl." His praise was gravelly. He sat up, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you flush against him, changing the angle again. Now it was shallower, more intimate, his mouth on your collarbone, hips snapping up to meet your downward grinds. "Keep going... don't stop. Mmph– wanna feel you come around me again."

You clung to him, nails digging into his back as the coil tightened low in your belly, too close, too needy. He let out a broken sound when his body betrayed him, hips stuttering against yours as he felt the edge rushing up faster than he wanted. Caleb swore under his breath as he flipped you onto your back, hauling one leg over his shoulder to push deeper.

“Sorry– can’t… not yet,” he muttered, thrusting harder now, each plunge deliberate in kissing your cervix. "Need you to hold on… just a bit longer…."

His forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked on where he claimed you. “Fuck, you’re so tight... squeezing me like you don’t want me to stop,” he groaned. He pulled out almost fully this time, the head of his cock catching on your entrance, gripping your hips before slamming back in with a thrust that made you arch off the blankets. “See? Taking every inch... my perfect girl. So tight, but you handle me so well. Makes me wanna ruin you– just a little.”

The pace turned inebriating as he ground harder at the end of each slammed stroke. His mouth found yours again, kiss messy and deep, tongues tangling as he swallowed your moans. Sweat beaded on his skin, dripping onto yours, as the treehouse creaked under your shifting weight.

When the edge crept closer, he sensed it again, your breaths turning shallow, thighs quivering around him, and he whispered filth against your lips: “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you milk me... wanna come with you, fill you up so deep it stays inside.” His thumb pressed firmer on your clit, circling faster now, matching the building rhythm of his hips.

You caved first, orgasm rolling through you in slow, crashing waves, your cunt spasming around his thickness, pulling him deeper. Caleb followed with a broken whimper, thrusting deep one last time as he came, hot spurts flooding you, adding to the mess until it overflowed.

He collapsed gently over you, cock still buried, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, murmuring soft praises– “So good... my everything...” – as you both drifted in the languid haze, bodies entwined, the world outside forgotten once more.

You smiled faintly, threading fingers through his damp hair. "Forgiven?" he asked once more, a soft laugh in his voice, lips curving against your skin.

“Hmm…maybe. But you might need to try a third round to be sure.” You tapped your chin thoughtfully.

“Fuck I don't think this treehouse will hold up for that…”

Caleb's laughter rumbled through his chest to yours where you lay tangled together, the treehouse swaying faintly from the wind. The air was heavy with the aftermath, sweat cooling on your bodies, his cum still warm and sticky between your thighs. He shifted carefully, finally easing out of you with a soft, reluctant groan, the loss of his fullness making you clench involuntarily around nothing. A warm trickle of release followed, and he murmured something soft under his breath as he reached for a small cloth, cleaning you carefully before tucking a blanket around you both.

"Here, baby," he murmured, his voice softer now, stripped of the desperate edge from before. He propped himself up on one elbow, his hulking frame still caging you protectively, and grabbed a nearby water bottle from the grocery bag he stashed in the corner earlier. "Drink some. You gotta stay hydrated after... well, that." His cheeks flushed a little, a boyish sheepishness creeping in as he twisted off the cap and held it to your lips, tipping it carefully so you could sip without spilling.

You took a few swallows, the cool water a relief against your parched throat, and he watched you with those wide, adoring eyes, like making sure you were okay was the most important mission of his life. When you were done, he took a swig himself before setting it aside, then gathered you closer, pulling you into the crook of his arm. His hand stroked your back in long, soothing sweeps, fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine, easing any lingering tension from your muscles. "You feeling alright? Not too sore?" he asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his stubble grazing your skin in that familiar, comforting way.

"A little," you admitted, nestling into his warmth, your head on his chest where you could hear his heartbeat slowing to a steady rhythm. "But it's the good kind."

He hummed in response, relief evident in the way his body relaxed further. "Good. I didn't mean to get so... intense. I just– I hate fighting with you. Makes me feel like shit." His free hand found yours, interlacing your fingers, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. "About earlier... I know I overreacted. Jake's just a coworker, right? I trust you– I do. It's me being an idiot, thinking about all the times I'm away flying and you're here building this badass career. I get scared you'll realize you deserve someone who's around more, not some jealous pilot who turns into a caveman."

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, seeing the genuine remorse there, mixed with that easy smile trying to peek through. "You're not a caveman. Well, not always," you teased lightly, squeezing his hand. "But yeah, it hurt feeling like you didn't trust me. We've been through too much since we were kids. I get that the travel sucks, but I'm not going anywhere. You're my reliable guy, jealousy and all."

His eyes softened, crinkling at the corners as he pulled you in for a slow, tender kiss. "I know. And I'm gonna work on it– no more high school hero bullshit. Promise. Next time I feel that way, I'll talk instead of snapping." He paused, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Forgive me for real this time?"

You nodded. "Yeah. Forgiven. We're good."

Caleb sighed contentedly, wrapping both arms around you now, holding you like something precious. The blankets cocooned you both, his body heat chasing away the cool night air seeping through the wooden slats. For a while, you just lay there, breaths syncing, his fingers occasionally trailing up your arm or down your side in absentminded affection, as if reassuring himself you were really there.

Eventually, he shifted, glancing up through the small, makeshift window in the roof– a jagged cutout you'd both carved as kids to spy on the stars. The rain clouds had cleared completely, leaving the sky a deep, velvety black dotted with pinpricks of light. "Hey, look," he whispered, his voice hushed with a touch of wonder. "Stars are out. Remember how we'd sneak up here and make up constellations? Like that one we called 'The Flying Burrito' because it looked like your favorite takeout?"

You laughed softly, tilting your head to follow his gaze. The view was imperfect, framed by leaves and branches, but beautiful all the same, the Milky Way a faint smear across the darkness. "Yeah. And you'd always point out the real ones, trying to impress me with pilot facts about navigation."

"Still true," he said, grinning as he adjusted the pillows behind you both, propping you up so you could watch together without straining. His arm stayed around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side. "See that bright one? That's Sirius– the Dog Star. Brightest in the sky. Kinda like you, lighting up my dumb ass when I get lost."

You rolled your eyes but snuggled closer, the stars twinkling like silent witnesses to your reconciliation. The treehouse creaked gently in the breeze, the world below forgotten, just the two of you in this childhood haven turned lovers' nest. "Cheesy, but I'll take it."

He kissed the top of your head, lingering there. "Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Thanks for reading <3

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— Isagi Yoichi

✦ My sweet little sunshine.

✦ Because that’s exactly what I thought while reading your bio.

✦ Oh Lord, you’re not someone who can be handled by just anyone.

✦ "I like open-minded people, patience, the sense of security people can radiate, and their confidence." This one was both the easiest and the hardest, because from my point of view, there are very few patient characters in Blue Lock, most of them being focused on being the best.

✦ The most patient ones are usually the most analytical and calculating, but I think that wouldn’t mix well with your traits.

✦ Our most balanced contender to meet your needs is, of course: our favorite main character.

✦ Without a doubt, you two would be the couple holding hands in public.

✦ I even imagined you both wearing woolen mittens in winter…

✦ Isagi is more on the introverted side, but he gains confidence as he evolves.

✦ He also tends to find himself in complicated, even impossible situations because he faces extraordinary and overpowered opponents, but he always ends up finding a solution all by himself, most of the time during the match, live on the field.

✦ So it’s not really a problem that giving solutions isn’t your strong suit. In fact, he really appreciates that you’re a good listener and always available. Isagi often confides in his teammates about what’s bothering him, which helps him find answers, even if they don’t actually say anything.

✦ He’s great at encouraging and motivating people individually. He knows the right words, the right arguments, and has an optimistic aura that calms everyone down, even in the most critical moments.

✦ "I'm naive so I tend to never think bad of people" Isagi is good at seeing through people’s games and understanding their motivations; he can also tell when someone’s trying to trick you, and he’ll react accordingly. He regularly reminds you to be careful, to take care of yourself, and to be cautious. He’ll ask, "Are you really sure you’re okay?" and that usually helps you admit when something is bothering you.

✦ "The video games I tend to play are open world, turn-based, and asymmetrical types." Did you know he has a PS4? And it’s totally canon. I can totally see him enjoying games that challenge his mind but also let him escape and go on adventures. Open-world games would totally be his thing if you ask me. And co-op games too!

✦ "My love language is acts of service, gifts, and quality time for giving." Since Isagi often ends up doing everything, even the cleaning, he would find it both surprising and delightful if, for once, you took on some of the boring household chores. Also, he’s the type to treasure all the little things you buy for him, like keychains. He even has one attached to his phone, and people often ask him what it is. Of course, he blushes and responds evasively, "It’s a gift."

✦ My superficial side is talking here, but I’m sure he’d really find you attractive. In fact, you have all the traits he lacks, and vice versa.

✦ Can we talk about those adorable moments when he waits for you after class?

✦ Where he even took the time to buy drinks and your favorite cake from the bakery?

✦ Can we ALSO talk about how he reserved the movie tickets for tonight?

✦ And that he’s already asked his parents if you can stay over at his place…

✦ The purest soul of Blue Lock gave birth of the sweetest couple.

A word about your match: I thought of Kunigami first because he embodies the strength, confidence, and loyalty that you love. But at the same time, I thought his open-mindedness might be lacking at times. He’s sometimes rigid, too stuck in his principles, and I think you wouldn’t like his overly strict side. Of course, we’re talking about pre-Wild Card Kunigami. (It's even worse after)

The questions are in Japanese but if you use chrome, you can translate the page.

Here's a quick translation of the questions:

You’re a person who goes at your own pace.

You’re self-centered.

It’s better to make plans early.

You’re able to calmly deal with problems.

You are very curious.

You are impatient.

You are strong-willed.

You are a methodical person.

“I’m No.1”