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bachissidehoe · 7 months ago

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in which you're Reo's princess, and Nagi's his treasure. (w.c. 1049)

At first, you found it strange the way Nagi Seishiro would so casually throw his arm around your shoulder and hold you close to his chest. You were Reo’s girlfriend, after all. The girlfriend of his best friend.

“What are you playing?”

He sighed. “It would be a hassle to explain. You can watch though.”

And you did. You sat next to him on the couch, forcing your gaze past his toned muscles and shaggy, tangled hair to watch his little mobile game.

“Come here. It’s hard to play when you’re leaning on my arm.”

And he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side so he could access his screen better. Apparently, this position made him more mobile.

You were flushed. You didn’t think something like this would be allowed. You were nestled into the gorgeous, soft body of your boyfriend’s best friend.

“Oh cute! My princess and my treasure.”

That’s all Reo had said when he saw you. It surprised you, to say the least.

But it’s not like you were complaining. Where lying on Reo’s chest was warm, Nagi’s was cool. Where Reo was obvious with his praise, Nagi was nonchalant. You found yourself wanting the affection of both of them, in a weird way.

And it started to be less surprising when Nagi asked to hold you. In fact, you started to hope he would.

“Your thighs are soft, like pillows. I need a nap.”

And Nagi collapsed, right there on your thighs, letting his eyes flutter shut. So calm.

“Aren’t they?” Reo agreed from the opposite couch, encouraging the physicality.

What the two didn’t notice was how you shifted in your seat, affected by the warm breaths that dusted your inner thighs. It wouldn’t be comfortable for the snowy haired boy to sleep in a puddle, so you held on for dear life, your hands clenched around the fabric of the couch rather than tangled in his messy hair.

You hadn’t realized the effect Nagi Seishiro really had on you. How his subtle, casual affection had trained you to become a secret mess for him. For your boyfriend’s best friend.

But Reo- your smart, charismatic, beautiful boyfriend- he had realized. In fact, he’d been encouraging this for a reason.

“You’re bothered, aren’t you princess?”

For a moment you thought you may be in trouble. It’s wrong to get turned on by your boyfriend’s best friend. But the look on Reo’s face, the devious smirk, said otherwise.

So you nodded.

“How cute.” He moved to hover over you, Nagi still restful on your thighs. “My princess and my treasure get along so well.”

It became pretty obvious what your boyfriend wanted after that. You just didn't realize how you didn't notice it before. The way he looked at Nagi. The way he encouraged you two. He wanted Nagi just as badly as you did.

The burning growing between your thighs wasn't enough for just Reo to satisfy anymore. And he knew that.

"Princess, hm? That what you want me to call her too, Reo?" Nagi mumbled, his groggy eyes opening just enough to look up at your flushed face.

"You should." Reo pulled Nagi upward by his shirt, removing him from the comfortable spot he created on your thighs.

Nagi complained the whole way up, of course, he was never one to enjoy being forced out of a cozy position.

"You should also let her ride you." Reo smirked, bringing Nagi's face close to his, nearly touching his lips.

You gulped.

But Nagi Seishiro was less than nervous, the nonchalant type of person he was. He only glanced back at you, not struggling at all under your boyfriend's tight hold on his shirt.

"Yeah fine." Nagi agreed.

It was hard for you to tell whether Nagi really wanted to fuck you, whether he was interested in you at all or if he wanted to shut Reo up. But as it turned out, Nagi Seishiro was stubborn and ruthless. He wanted you just as badly, his cock constantly straining against his shorts whenever you were close to him, wanting any excuse to stuff his face into your pretty thighs. But he'd never admit it.

Not until you were bouncing on his thick cock, mouth hung open and hands relentlessly tugging on his hair. Right there on that couch. With your wet cunt soaking him, your movements squeezing juices into a messy coating for Nagi's bare thighs.

That's when Nagi Seishiro decided to be honest. "Fuck, I needed you. Fuck~ yes I need~ ah-"

And Reo couldn't have been happier about the beautiful scene he created. "You don't mind, hm? Can't expect me to just watch." He lined up behind you, letting his familiar, flushed tip plunge into the depths of your unused hole, forcing you to lean forward onto Nagi's chest.

"I'll get ya both off. Fuck~" Reo spat, his thrusts creating the friction both you and Nagi so desperately craved, your heavy breaths mixing into each other in the small space between you.

And you kissed him, because you couldn't help it. Your sloppy, drooly lips pressed to Nagi's in a desperate display of hunger.

As it turned out, Reo had been thinking about this for a long time. Longer than you had. Longer than the stubborn Nagi Seishiro had.

He rocked his hips in perfect rhythm, your cunt sliding and squeezing around Nagi's perfect cock while your ass was lubed and stuffed by your pretty boyfriend.

Reo was right about getting you both off, too. It took him practically no time, with your clit rubbing against Nagi's skin and the friction forcing Nagi's tip into your g-spot over and over again, it wasn't difficult. But that didn't matter to Reo, he never specified how many times he expected to get you two off. And it became clear very quickly that once wasn't enough for him.

He'd been holding back his desires for too long, he deserved to see you shaking, tears streaming down your face, cum dripping from all your holes. He deserved to see Nagi fucked out, hair sticking to his forehead, arms wrapped around you and lips attached to your bruised neck.

Your boyfriend deserved that much. After how long you made him wait to fuck his princess and his treasure.

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bachissidehoe · 11 months ago

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when nagi seishiro cums,

it's like heaven itself blessed her glassy eyes and sensitive ears with the perfect scene. He'd tricked her before by making her fall under the false pretense that he might not even want to fuck her- the lazy snowy haired boy had just casually shrugged his way through the encounter, doing everything he could to avoid putting in any amount of effort.

But then he hit that spot, a spot so perfectly gummy and wet that he just couldn't help but grip her hips and unforgivingly flip her onto her back. It was so quick that she didn't even realize it, but suddenly she was certain he wanted to fuck her. His eyes were like stars poking through a foggy sky, his mouth parted with enough space between his lips for desperate moans and "fuck"s to escape. He was perfect, and he fucked her so damn good.

She thought it couldn't get any better- with his arms wrapped around her thighs, pulling her entire body to meet his thrusts- with droplets of sweat starting to appear at the tips of his hair. He began to speed up, his thrusts sloppy and his breaths caught in the back of his throat, his voice spitting out the whiniest version of "I'm close..." that she could fathom, and he came. Hard.

It's the most ethereal thing, to watch Nagi hold his thick cock in his hand, squeezing around the tip as spurts of white hot cum coat her chest and stomach. He holds his head back, his tongue dangling from his lips like an animal, adamant on letting his soul circulate through heaven and back. And his desperate moans- unapologetic and lude, reverberating off the walls and gifting her ears with a sound she hopes to revisit every night after this one.

When Nagi Seishiro cums, he's absolutely perfect.

#blue lock #anime smut #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi smut #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #seishiro nagi #bllk #bllk nagi #anime fanfic #anime

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bachissidehoe · 11 months ago

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put some clothes on

chapter 11 of it's classy, not classic [bachisagi] (final chapter)

It was unrealistic for Isagi and Bachira to expect they’d actually have a full week together to extract all the time they’ve been secretly craving. Isagi has practice, interviews, team activities, the same as always. And Bachira has work, he has to pack up his apartment (which Isagi visited for the first time only two days ago- to help him move some larger furniture), and he has meetings with sponsors and clients for custom work, the same as always.

It was a fleeting, rose-colored look at how life would change when the two of them finally admitted their feelings for each other. But neither of them have had the courage to talk about it either. Neither have sat down and asked the dreaded question- “What are we?” Not even Bachira has bit the bullet and started the uncomfortable conversation, and since Bachira hasn’t, Isagi wouldn’t dare. Instead, they’ve continued to act like this last week is the only week they have left, and any moment they’ve spent together (besides the few hours where they were focused on moving Bachira’s furniture) has been spent all over each other, desperately clawing at each other’s bodies like it’s the last sexually charged experience they’ll ever get.

Isagi tangles his fingers in Bachira’s hair at every opportunity, gripping those pretty blonde highlights like anything less would stop his heart right there. Bachira pointed that out to him too, shortly after the furniture moving experience, when they inevitably made it back to Isagi’s living room couch.

“You pull my hair like your life depends on it.” He gasped.

Bachira had decided that day that Isagi deserved to know what it feels like to be inside him. Isagi’s tight little hole can’t be the only one to keep taking Bachira’s thick fingers and toys, it’s about time Isagi got a turn with Bachira’s pretty body.

“Aren’t I-” Isagi gulped. “The bottom?”

He knew Bachira would laugh at him, and his guess was immediately proven correct. “Of course you are! The bottom doesn’t always mean the one getting fucked, remember?” He lifted Isagi’s chin with his finger, taunting him the way he always does, dangling his lips over his like a treat Isagi hasn’t earned yet.

“Let me fuck myself on you.” Bachira whispered, the hottest phrase Isagi Yoichi had heard to date. Though- that number one spot has been getting replaced quite frequently over the past week.

Isagi nodded, already showing his desperation through his lurch forward toward Bachira’s lips. There’s only a finite number of kisses he can get, and he’ll get them.

So Bachira did fuck himself on Isagi, expertly riding his thick cock, his ass bouncing up and down repeatedly on Isagi’s thighs, filling the air with his breathless moans and grunts. His own hard cock slaps on Isagi’s stomach, small beads of precum flinging into the air with every sharp thrust. And of course, Isagi grips Bachira’s hair, prompting Bachira’s comment about that habit, not that he was complaining. Bachira loves a little pain, especially hair pulling. Isagi learned that pretty fast, filing it away in his designated Bachira brain rot folder to utilize for next time. He’s started using his fingernails more, and his teeth too, sucking and biting on parts of Bachira’s pretty body where only he can see the remnants.

Isagi didn’t last, but they both expected that. His first time having this kind of sex, a hole so tight and warm, he couldn’t hold himself back. He watched his cum spill out, breathing with his mouth parted, marveling at the pretty sight. Bachira’s flushed face, his fucked little hole, his cock twitching on Isagi’s stomach.

“Hold on~ mmmh~” Bachira whined. “A little more~” He hummed, grinding his hips hard onto Isagi’s cum-soaked cock. “It’s a good spot- the best spot- fuck Yoichi~” He mumbled, but Isagi noted every word, memorizing his face, storing it in the deepest depths of his memories. He’s thought about it every hour since, even though it was only two days ago. The way Bachira came too, Isagi can’t get it out of his head. How pretty he looked, how his hole squeezed around him, how he wrapped his hand around his throbbing cock, holding blurred eye contact with Isagi while coating his stomach with his sticky cum. It made Isagi desperate for a feeling like that, desperate enough to beg Bachira to stay here with him tonight, their last night, to forget the stupid toys and give it all to him.

“You- ah- can go more~” Isagi moans, looking up at Bachira from his position flat on his back, his thighs tied up in Bachira’s strong arms as his cock presses harder into his tight little hole.

And he does, his golden eyes glowing in the small streak of moonlight that peeks through Isagi’s bedroom window. “Fuck-” Bachira sucks in through his gritted teeth, his nails digging deeper into Isagi’s thighs, adding to the plethora of deep nail marks that already decorate them.

Isagi moans out- loud- louder than Bachira’s heard before. “Megu~” He thrashes his hands, finding a grip on Bachira’s wrist briefly before digging them back into the sheets. Perhaps the sheets have been through the most this week, at the start they were nearly brand new, and now they’re riddled with little holes and rips from Isagi’s constant need to grip them.

“Keep at that-” Bachira breathes, his cock nearly half way into Isagi’s ass. He watches it, too, eyes trained on the way his thick shaft disappears more and more as the wet squelching sounds of lube add an even more erotic ambiance. “It’s hot when you say my name like that.” He’s struggling to speak himself, grasping for breaths he doesn’t even have, and they’ve barely gotten started.

Isagi’s cock twitches against his own stomach, a bead of precum oozing from his angry red tip. Those pretty lashes flutter with every slight movement Bachira makes, his arms thrashing as his chest heaves from the mixture of pain and pleasure.

They shouldn’t be here yet, but it’s their last night together. “Please fuck me, just once. I don’t care if it hurts.” Isagi begged. He’s hardly used to the feeling, but he needs to have it, he needs this, even though he hasn't been able to take a vibrator even close to Bachira’s size yet.

But the way he looked at Bachira, pleading “I need it”, it was impossible to refuse. Even when Isagi whined out in pain from the thicker, more intense vibrators, he agreed to fuck him. And even now, when he sees tears brimming in the corners of Isagi’s eyes, a small streak of blood spilling from his tight little hole, he still fucks him. Isagi’s begging cock tells him all he needs to know.

“Meguru~” He gasps. “It’s good.” He loves the pain, especially when the thick skin of Bachira’s cock bunches up around his hole, his tip twitching as he continues to inch more of himself inside him.

“Maybe it’ll hurt less if you sit on it?” Bachira breathes, fingernails still trained into Isagi’s thighs.

“No.” Isagi sniffles. “I love it like this.”

“You’re um,” Bachira holds himself back, feeling Isagi’s little hole squeeze around him, nearly sending him into a frenzy. “You’re bleeding a little.” Even knowing how badly Isagi wants this, he still feels concerned. It’s only been a week of them doing things like this, there’s still the possibility that Isagi’s forcing himself to be ready for Bachira’s sake.

“Good.” Isagi’s eyes snap shut, letting the pain and pleasure wash over his body. He probably won’t last long, and Bachira hasn’t even started moving inside him yet. But it still feels so damn good, Isagi’s not letting this moment slip no matter how much it costs him.

“Hm.” Bachira feels a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Isagi looks so helpless. Knowing that he’s the one applying this pain. “Alright then, try not to cry too loud.” He breathes, even though a part of him hopes he does cry too loud.

With a bit more lube, Bachira begins thrusting, his tip fucking into Isagi’s sweet spot with every slight movement.

Isagi’s mouth hangs open, moaning and whining with strings of drool cascading down his chin. Bachira can’t imagine a prettier sight.

It doesn’t take long for Isagi to cum without warning, thick white ropes coating his own chest and stomach. His entire body feels too many sensations to process when his orgasm overtakes him, instead making a mess of himself while blubbering pleas and whimpers.

“Don’t- hmmm~ stop-” Isagi hums, his eyes fully snapped shut as he begs for Bachira to continue ramming into him, practically rearranging his insides at this point.

Bachira can’t continue to care about the potential pain Isagi is in, watching him squirm and beg is too much for his demonic brain- overrun with arousal. Seeing the milky white cum slide down Isagi’s skin and drool and sweat covering his entire body is too much to pass up.

Every thrust is like a new trip to heaven, those tight walls hugging him and begging him to stay. It’s so warm in there, wet and gummy from the lube. And this will be the last time, too, so it’s hard for Bachira to stop his relentless thrusts.

“Y’can- fuck- y’can take it~” Bachira grunts, pounding into him while he moans out from the overstimulation, his cock already hard again only seconds after cumming. “I’m almost-”

“Ah~ please~” Isagi whines, tears fully streaming down his face as another load dribbles out of his leaking tip, his entire body shaking from the force of his overstimulation orgasm.

And Bachira pulls out, coating Isagi’s stomach with a breathy release, messily spraying him until he’s decorated in white. He gasps, his moans caught in the back of his throat as he squeezes every last drop out of his throbbing cock. The two breathe heavily, sweat dripping down their faces and eyes brimmed with tears.

“Bachi-”

Bachira looks up, meeting Isagi’s tired eyes, pain evident in his expression. Even Bachira’s sharp gaze stops him instantly, forcing Isagi to reconsider what he was going to say. He’s overwhelmed anyway, he’s gonna be feeling the pain soon, he should enjoy the rest of this moment.

“Meguru.” He smiles.

“Better.” Bachira grins.

“This uh-” Isagi looks down, afraid to move or he’ll drip cum all over his bed. “I need help-”

“Hah!” Bachira chuckles, standing up and running his fingers through his sweaty hair. What a gorgeous sight he is, his toned body glowing with sparkling beads of sweat, his hair stuck to his face and blonde highlights peeking out under his dark top layer. And that little smirk, that same gorgeous smirk that shows just enough of his teeth, Isagi can hear Bachira’s unwavering ego. “Let me help ya.”

Bachira tenderly wipes Isagi clean, ruffling his hair and placing small kisses to his lips and chest.

“Now put some clothes on.” He winks.

+++++

This isn’t the end Isagi was expecting when he first signed up for this, when he first told that stupid lie. But if he didn’t, none of this would ever have happened. He wouldn’t be holding back tears while saying his final goodbye to Bachira Meguru.

All Bachira does is wave, flashing Isagi a smile and a peace sign as he boards the train. No kiss, no hug, just a pretty smile. In fact, everything that morning was mostly silent, barely any conversation, no final confession of love, no discussion of everything that happened over the last week. Isagi should have expected that, they’re “broken up” now, with a post scheduled in a few days to announce the painful separation.

If Isagi never lied, this wouldn’t suck so much.

But all he can do is go about his life, with an understanding that this chapter is over. Sure, he can reach out to Bachira, tell him that he misses him, but what would that do?

Even Rin, who perhaps cares the least about Isagi of anyone he chooses to keep in his life, shares a pitiful glance during practice. It makes Isagi sick- that he’s being pitied for a shitty situation he created. Especially by Rin. Rin should feel bad for Bachira, if anyone.

“Why exactly did you have to end it?” Rin asks. “I know it was fake, but-”

“It was fake. So it had to end eventually.” Isagi sighs, shaking out his wet hair. “Well, the post goes out tomorrow. Then it’s officially done.”

“But you like him, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” Isagi says it without hesitation. So little hesitation that he surprises himself.

“You know that nobody cares about your little relationship anymore besides you, right?” Rin scoffs, tossing a towel at Isagi’s bare chest.

Somehow, that’s surprising to Isagi. He’s spent the better part of a few months assuming that the world is extremely invested in his personal life. Every post he’s made, the first practice kissing session, the public appearances together, it’s been because people care. Or at least, they used to care. At some point.

“Well-” Isagi starts, but he quickly realizes he doesn’t have anything to say.

“They were excited at first, but the world has moved on. It doesn’t matter if you break up or not.”

“He’s moved away now, though.” Isagi looks down, already choked up at the thought of it. He hasn’t done much crying on his own, but for some reason Rin being here makes it hard to hold it back. It’s not like he has anyone to talk to about this besides Rin, since nobody else he’s close to knows the full story, not even his parents.

“Just do long distance. You’re both rich as fuck and can go see each other whenever.” For someone giving such helpful, well-thought-out advice, Rin certainly says it like he hates Isagi and everything he stands for. But that’s just Rin, Isagi’s come to appreciate it.

“I- but-” Isagi stutters, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “This was always the plan.”

“Sometimes you’re so fucking dumb. I feel bad for Bachira.” Rin rolls his eyes. “You know he’s in love with you too, right?”

For some reason, Isagi can’t respond to that. He really doesn’t know, he really doesn’t see it as obvious. Sure, Bachira has seemed to enjoy Isagi’s company, but it always seemed like he was doing it as a favor and to keep Hiro off his back. Even if Bachira did have feelings for him, Isagi has assumed he’d be better off not having them, therefore, Isagi should have to endure the gut wrenching feeling of losing him.

“Huh.” Isagi chokes. As it turns out, even when he tries to do things for Bachira’s sake, he’s still selfish.

The post doesn’t go out the next day. Even after writing and rewriting a sad statement that left Isagi’s phone drenched in tears, the finished product remains confined to Isagi’s notes app.

Megu: no post?

It’s the simplest text ever, and one Isagi should have expected. He never actually told Bachira that he wouldn’t be making that post. In fact, he hasn’t talked to Bachira at all since that final little wave before he got on the train.

Yoichi: nah.

It’s the only thing he can think to respond with.

Megu: oh alright

Megu: why not?

Megu: everything ok?

Maybe Isagi didn’t quite think this one through.

Yoichi: long distance fake dating isn’t so hard to believe?

Isagi holds his phone against his chest, his hands nearly shaking as he stares blankly at his ceiling.

Megu: huh

Incoming Call: Megu

Isagi nearly hyperventilates. The vibration of his ringing phone may as well be one million tiny needles stabbing through his uncontrolled hands.

“Hello?” He answers, immediately cursing himself for his shaky voice.

“Why don’t we just long distance real date?” Bachira asks on the other end.

Silence.

Isagi can’t even process a statement like that right now. This is the first time he’s heard Bachira’s voice since he left, and it’s to ask him out? They’ve basically been acting like a couple for a long time, it shouldn’t be far fetched. They’ve been intimate with each other, it’s not like it’s impossible that Bachira wants this. Even Rin said it.

“Huh?” Isagi squeaks.

“I want to date you.” Bachira says confidently.

“But-” Isagi chokes. “You’re gone.”

Stupid excuse.

“Do you want to date me, Yoichi?” He asks, ignoring Isagi’s stupid protests.

Silence.

“My plan stays the same, it’s important to me to work from here for at least a year or so. You’re going to start traveling again a lot once international tournaments start. But does it matter?” Bachira continues, a slight hint of shakiness in his voice.

“You want to date me?”

“Yes.” Bachira answers instantly. “More than I want anything else.”

Isagi gulps. “I do too.”

Bachira laughs from the other end of the phone. It sends a warmth through Isagi’s body, calming the shakiness in his nerves. “I was worried you’d never admit it.”

So he noticed it. The fact that Isagi’s been desperately trying to hold back.

“I want to date you. And be your boyfriend.” Isagi repeats, more confidently this time. “And I miss you.”

“I miss you too. It’s nice to hear you.”

Suddenly, Isagi’s completely relaxed. Bachira has that effect on him- to make him feel instantly better. He doesn’t ever want to let that go. Now that they’re talking, now that Isagi can see the situation for what it is, so much becomes clear. He wanted to follow the original plan, assuming that’s what Bachira would want too, but he never stopped to think about what Bachira really feels.

“I guess there was no reason for us to stop talking.” Isagi chuckles.

“I hope we never have to.”

“Yeah.” Isagi sighs, clutching the phone against his ear, like if he lets it go even a little bit, he may lose access to Bachira’s pretty voice forever.

“Look for me at your next game.”

So Isagi does, scanning the audience for his pretty boyfriend. And he finds him, sporting a #11 jersey and that devilish smile. He’ll never play soccer, he’ll never reach his ultimate dream, he’ll come to Isagi’s games and feel constant pangs of pain in his chest for the life that was ripped from him.

That fact alone makes Isagi emotional, he may always feel guilty for getting to live his dream. But Bachira is still here anyway. He’s still smiling. He’s still cheering. He’s still standing against the front row of the stadium calling Isagi’s name.

“Meguru!” Isagi practically sprints, wanting to share his success with one person and one alone- his boyfriend. “I love you!” He cheers, a smile on his face and a spark of confidence in his intense eyes.

Bachira smiles even wider.

“I love you too, you egoist.”

END

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bachissidehoe · 1 year ago

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lovely

chapter 10 of it's classy, not classic [bachisagi]

“One week!” Bachira barges into Isagi’s apartment, no different from how he usually does it.

Isagi stands in front of him, his eyes shifting back and forth, wondering how Bachira continues to remain unfazed by everything that’s happened between them in the past couple days. He shouldn’t be so confused, Bachira is always like this. His dream of playing soccer was ruined and he stopped wallowing and turned it into something new- Isagi would never be that resilient.

“One week,” Isagi says with a breath, sounding much less excited than Bachira is. “Until you leave.” He finishes. Yeah, he’s definitely not excited about it.

This one week they have together marks one week left of their fake relationship. Bachira will move back with his mother, out of Tokyo, and away from Isagi. Potentially forever. One week and this will all be over.

Isagi’s been thinking about it for the past couple days since the art symposium, and he’s come to the conclusion that he doesn’t even think he’s gay or straight. Perhaps he’s Bachira-sexual. When Bachira leaves and Isagi makes the crushing announcement that their relationship has ended, he doesn’t think he’ll ever want anyone else.

But he’s already been too selfish.

“Exactly.” Bachira grins, taking Isagi’s hand in his.

Just the slight touch makes a blush creep across Isagi’s cheeks. It’s not subtle either, because the grin on Bachira’s face only gets bigger.

“One week for me to do everything I’ve wanted to do with you.” Bachira pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, almost like he wants to pretend like he shouldn’t have said that.

Isagi gulps. “That’s- true.”

Bachira’s hands go from Isagi’s wrists to his shoulders, guiding him to the middle of his couch. Isagi messily sits down, now having to look up at a standing Bachira Meguru.

“You know how fantastic this is?” Bachira leans forward, his hands resting on the back of the couch on either side of Isagi. He’s very close. It always feels like this, so sudden, yet so right, the way those feelings rocket through Isagi’s body and take up every single neuron in his brain.

“What do you mean?” Isagi rushes through his sentence, saying it almost in a whisper. He doesn’t have to speak much louder than that, his breath is already dancing over Bachira’s pretty lips.

“You wanna keep doing stuff with me, don’t you?” Bachira asks, though he already knows the answer. It may as well be written across his damn forehead in sharpie marker in big black letters: “PLEASE FUCK ME BACHIRA MEGURU”.

“Well, yeah.” Isagi breathes.

“We had those few kisses, and then I sucked you off in a dark room, but we have plenty more to do.” Bachira fully stands up, releasing Isagi from the erotic prison he created on Isagi’s own couch.

Isagi lets out a breath. “Why are you saying it like it’s an assignment?” Isagi mumbles.

Bachira giggles, then pauses. He turns around, facing Isagi with a gorgeous, genuine smile. “I guess I’m just excited.”

Isagi’s not sure if he’s ever felt this exact feeling before, but he feels like his eyes just turned into glitter and the world around him turned into a sea of butterflies and rainbows circling around Bachira. The only thing he can think at the moment is: “ohmygodhessocuteohhessocuteplease”.

“You seem pretty excited too, after being pinned to your couch.” Bachira winks, taking a quick glance at Isagi’s crotch area.

Isagi reddens, quickly pulling a throw pillow onto his lap.

But Bachira’s right, he did like that. He liked getting pushed into the door too. He liked being tossed around a little.

“I always had a feeling you were more on the submissive side.” Bachira sticks his tongue out.

“Huh? No way!” Isagi argues. “I was the one who told you to get on your knees, remember that?” He huffs.

“Hm, after I told you to tell me what you want.”

“But- you were saying that because you needed my direction! You’re the submissive one.” Isagi scrunches his nose.

“I was being a service top.” Bachira giggles. “By the way, you look so cute when you’re arguing with me about who tops.”

Isagi squeezes the pillow harder into his lap. Truly, Bachira’s words are enough. “What’s even a service top anyway?” He mumbles, knowing he’s already defeated. The submissive one is the one who gets flustered, the dominant one is the one who does the flustering.

“Like the opposite of a power bottom. Still in charge, but giving you what you want.”

“So like…” Isagi breathes. He’s getting quite heavy down there. “The one that puts it in is always the top, right?” Isagi can’t even make eye contact, he’ll probably pass out if he watches Bachira’s lips curl up into that cute little smirk.

“Not always.” Bachira answers honestly. “But generally, yeah.”

“But weren’t you-” Isagi takes another breath. “A bottom? Um, before?”

“Sure, in that relationship.”

“Then why are you insisting on topping me?”

“Because look at you!” Bachira approaches Isagi again, standing with his legs trapping Isagi’s. He reaches out, lifting his chin with his pointer finger. “You deserve to be topped.”

Isagi lets out a nervous breath, though it comes out as more of a light whine. He’s absolutely the submissive one.

Bachira leans in, holding his lips just a few centimeters away from Isagi’s. With a smirk threatening to appear across those perfect, pink lips, he refuses to close the gap. Instead, Bachira prefers to watch Isagi fall apart, to watch his eyes flutter closed with the anticipation of that gap being smothered shut, to watch him push his own head slightly forward, hoping that Bachira will meet him there. Bachira loves watching Isagi open his pleading eyes, only to be met with Bachira’s bottom lip caught between his teeth and zero intention to kiss him.

“You want me so bad.” Bachira whispers.

It’s unfair to be in this position, Isagi believes that. He’s frustrated, even embarrassed. And yet, he still finds himself shifting, thanking the throw pillow for concealing his painfully hard erection. He considers simply lurching forward and taking it from him, but in his submissive state, he just can’t bring himself to do it.

“Yeah.” Isagi admits with a single breath, his eyes half lidded and dark with lust. It’s amazing how Bachira can have this effect with only a single movement, one that doesn’t even result in a simple touch.

“You like being teased.” Bachira observes.

As usual, there’s nothing Isagi can hide from the insightful Bachira Meguru.

“I don't know if I like it.” Isagi grumbles. “But I guess my body does.”

Bachira reaches down, lacing his fingers into the collar of Isagi’s shirt. The number one soccer player in the world, someone who can go up against any player and win by a landslide, is squashed under the thumb of Bachira Meguru.

“Megu-” Isagi protests, watching Bachira lean in for what’s likely another tease. Isagi’s heart pounds against the walls of his chest, and once again that hot breath sends him into an erotic hypnosis. “I have to kiss you, sorry, I have to~”

Isagi uses his own hands, forcing Bachira forward until he loses his balance, falling into Isagi’s lap. The gap closes, finally indulging the striker in a long-awaited kiss.

Isagi holds onto Bachira for dear life, quickly lacing his fingers in his hair to keep him from pulling away. He’s unapologetically desperate, sloppily licking at his glistening lips. And those noises Bachira makes, those perfect little breaths, they slide over Isagi’s body like a blanket. In no time Bachira figures out his mechanism for control, sliding over top of Isagi and forcing him on his back, never once breaking their kiss.

There’s the switch that flips when Isagi’s on the field, the one that turns him into a force to be reckoned with, something so different from his normal, kind personality. Isagi expected that a similar switch would flip when in a situation like this, turning him into a dominant lover with a fiery passion. Instead, the switch that flips is a new kind of switch.

“I need to~” Isagi moans, tugging Bachira’s bottom lip between his teeth. “I need to make you feel good.” He almost whines it. The desperation in his voice is obvious, he’s not attempting to hide those feelings of submission.

The fire and passion still exist when this switch is flipped, that much is clear, but this is focused on a deep desire to please someone else. Any strong passion Isagi has ever felt has existed for himself only, his need to score goals, to be the best, to take down every opponent that stands in his way. But this one is so much different.

“That’s good, I was going to ask you to.” Bachira chuckles, pulling his head against Isagi’s tight grip on his messy locks of two-toned hair. “Fuck, I love when you pull my hair.”

So Isagi pulls it harder, forcing Bachira’s exposed neck toward his lips. Every little inch of Bachira’s skin should be kissed, Isagi believes that with every fiber of his being. Nipping and sucking pretty purple marks into the sensitive skin of his neck isn’t enough. Every inch of him should be covered in hickeys, drooled on, worshiped.

“People are gonna see that, you know~” Bachira taunts, his eyes snapped shut as Isagi tugs at his shirt with his teeth.

“They should.” Isagi growls, looking at him with pleading eyes and his shirt caught between his teeth. He looks like a puppy. “Let them know you’re mine.”

“I wanna feel good, Yoichi~.” Bachira switches gears, sitting up to force his shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly to the side. He smirks, grabbing Isagi by the collar and forcing him upright.

He reaches for the hem of his shirt, holding eye contact with Isagi as he pulls his shirt over his head, the touch of Bachira’s fingers against his bare skin sending a shiver down Isagi’s spine. Isagi doesn’t miss the shirt, not when Bachira looks him up and down wearing that signature smirk of his, his tongue poking between his sharp teeth.

“I want you to feel good.” Isagi lurches forward, eager to continue tangling their lips together, potentially until the end of time.

“Ah-“ Bachira stops him, pressing his hand to Isagi’s bare chest. “Get on your knees.” He directs. “It’s your turn this time.”

Isagi obeys, he has no reason not to. This desire to please Bachira well surpasses his desire to be viewed as dominant. He’d bark for Bachira if he asked.

Bachira slides his bottoms down his perfect thighs, calmly sitting on the couch with his legs on either side of Isagi’s frame. And all Isagi can do is stare, watch as Bachira’s thick cock springs upward, slapping against his stomach, twitching and pulsing with every movement. His tip is plump and eager, a bead of precum situated just inside the slight divot of his hole. And it’s so thick, and long.

“You’re-“ Isagi gulps, his jaw slacked as he tries to imagine fitting even half of that thing in his little virgin mouth.

“Go on.” Bachira leans back, resting his arms calmly on the back of the couch, proudly showing off his big dick.

“So pretty.” Isagi leans down, placing a kiss to his tip. He never thought of describing a dick as pretty before, but Bachira’s somehow fits that description perfectly. “And really fucking big.” He breathes.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to fit the whole thing.” Bachira chuckles. “I like a hand on the bottom and a lot of tongue work on the top.” He explains, reaching down to caress Isagi’s face with the back of his hand, almost tauntingly.

“Okay.” Isagi slowly wraps his fingers around his shaft, reveling in the feeling of a cock in his hand that isn’t his own. It doesn’t feel weird at all, not like he thought it would. It feels- powerful.

“That’s it~” Bachira sighs, his fingers already lacing themselves in Isagi’s hair, kindly holding his long black bangs away from his face.

Isagi’s confidence is at an all time high despite this being his first time doing anything like this. When Bachira lets out those little gasps and praises, Isagi can only get more excited, his own cock seated heavy in his boxers, twitching at the thought of pleasuring Bachira like this.

He swirls his tongue around the tip, recalling what he liked when Bachira did it to him. He replicates motions he assumes would feel good, hollowing out his cheeks to create suction on Bachira’s thick shaft. Every time Bachira makes a noise, Isagi makes a mental note, learning what he likes best in no time at all. All the while, he uses his hand, jerking the base into his mouth like he’s thrusting it into his own throat.

Bachira’s thighs twitch and tense, squeezing Isagi’s shoulders. His head remains back against the couch, lazily rocking from side to side as he moans for more.

“I could fuck your throat, make you choke-” Bachira rasps, his voice hoarse and tired. “Aren’t you worried?” He taunts.

Isagi slides off his cock with a pop of his lips, forcing eye contact with the pretty boy on the couch. Isagi’s lips and chin glisten with his own drool and Bachira’s precum. He’s so messy, unapologetic about it too, with his wet tongue loosely hanging out of his mouth.

“I don’t think I’d mind it much,” Isagi admits, suddenly taking interest in Bachira’s bare inner thighs. “But you’re really big, and my jaw needs a break.”

He continues pumping his cock with his hand, spreading his drool over the entire pulsing shaft. But his mouth clamps onto Bachira’s inner thigh, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin.

“Ah~ fuck~” Bachira gasps, tugging harder on Isagi’s hair in response to the unexpected stimulation.

Isagi can’t help but moan as well, biting and sucking on the exposed skin until he’s sure those pretty thighs are covered in deep purple marks. Every tug on his hair and gasp that escapes from Bachira’s lips is a sign to keep going, to keep pouring everything into pleasing him. His thumb traces over the tip of his cock, forcing those milky clumps of white precum to squeeze through the small hole.

“That’s- holy shit~” Bachira becomes more vocal with every bite, writhing under Isagi’s touch. “I’m getting- fuck I’m close~” Bachira forces his eyes open, weakly pulling Isagi’s mouth away from his sore thighs. “Need y’to swallow.” He’s much less dominant seeming now that he’s in this position, in fact, it looks like he’s the one begging now.

This time it’s Isagi smirking, holding that eye contact as he takes the tip back into his mouth, sliding his wet lips down his shaft until Bachira spills his load, his jaw slacked and a string of curses and moans escaping with his thick stream.

Isagi jumps back in surprise- he did not expect the volume of cum that rocketed down his throat. It surprised him enough to pull off Bachira’s shaft entirely, forcing some of the white substance to dribble out of Isagi’s mouth and down his chin. He swallows the rest, but he’s certainly surprised by the texture. It definitely doesn’t go down as easily as he expected it to.

But god damn. He can’t help but love it, love the taste, the feeling of it all over his face, the fact that he made him do that.

Bachira grabs his crumpled shirt and holds it to Isagi’s chin, wiping the drool and cum off his pretty face. “Holy shit.” He breathes with a light chuckle. “I didn’t expect to cum so fast.”

Isagi tilts his head to the side, watching as Bachira examines the bites on his inner thigh, blooming a sea of beautiful bruises. He traces over them with his fingers. “Nobody’s ever done that before. I didn’t know I liked it so much. It got me close so fast.”

“Oh, really?” Isagi wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, resisting the urge to pounce on top of Bachira and keep leaving little marks just like those pretty ones on his thighs.

“Fuck. Yeah.” Bachira nods slowly, meeting Isagi’s sparkling blue eyes with his half lidded, post orgasmic gaze. “You’re good at all that.”

Isagi only stares back, flushed and trying to maintain control over his own body. He sits on his knees, slowly moving to rest his head in Bachira’s lap, hoping that when he recovers he’ll still want to kiss him.

“Well you deserve a treat after that, hm?” Bachira pets Isagi’s head, his hands still weak from cumming just seconds ago.

“Really?” Isagi looks up with those puppy dog eyes, Bachira can’t help but want to squeeze him. The best striker in the world, wrapped around his finger.

“I mean I wanna fuck you.” Bachira chuckles.

Isagi gulps. “I don’t know if that will fit-” He starts nervously. The thought is exciting of course, bent over his own couch with Bachira’s thick cock slamming into him, maybe he’d even jerk him a bit while he fucks him, that would be amazing. But truthfully, Isagi has no idea how feasible that is, and how painful it would be. He’s dazed just imagining it.

“No way,” Bachira laughs. “Yoichi- you don’t start with a dick. I’ll rip you in half.”

Even that post-orgasm laugh is gorgeous, laced with a little rasp and a hint of tiredness. It makes Isagi want to force his tongue down his throat to coat it in his saliva, maybe that’ll help clear that rasp, or maybe Isagi just wants to keep kissing him. He’s still hard, after all, he hasn’t exactly calmed down like Bachira has after getting sucked off.

“You start with smaller toys.” Bachira explains.

“Oh, gotcha.” Isagi buries his face into the couch, hoping to prevent Bachira from seeing the redness creep back across his cheeks.

“And I brought some.”

Isagi’s head perks up, meeting Bachira’s cute smile and scrunched up nose.

“Do you want to try?” Bachira asks, standing up and grabbing his bag. “I bought a couple vibrators of different sizes-” He pulls out some still-wrapped dildos. “Figured I’ll work you up until you can take me.” He winks.

“I-in a week?” Isagi stutters, unable to prevent himself from looking Bachira’s naked body up and down, paying special attention to the budding bruises on his neck and thighs. He looks so pretty like this, with remnants of Isagi all over him.

“If it works out, it works out, if it doesn’t it doesn’t.” Bachira shrugs. He’s very easy going about this for such an intense person, but Isagi should expect nothing less. Bachira is overall the most kind and caring person he’s ever met, of course he’d be caring more about Isagi’s pleasure than his own.

Isagi just nods. He’s nervous, but eager. Plus, his cock still pulses heavily in his boxers, he’d be willing to let Bachira do just about anything to get him off at this point.

“Then to the bedroom we go!” He exclaims, skipping away.

Isagi can only giggle, that’s just Bachira. Nothing phases him, and no matter what, he’s always his authentic self. Isagi can only hope he’s enough for him, or at least, that he’s been enough for him in the time they’ve spent together. Like Bachira said, they only have one week left.

But he’ll make the most of it. Even if this is the last week they ever spend together.

Within minutes, Isagi wishes he’d just swallowed his pride and told Bachira how he felt sooner. He should have told him right after that first kiss, if this was what he’d been missing out on. With his face shoved into his pillow and his ass in the air, taking repeated thrusts from the vibrating dildo.

He whines and groans into the fluffy cotton of the pillowcase, hoping it swallows enough of the noise to make it sound normal rather than guttural declarations of pleasure.

“That’s it, see? Not so bad, hm?” Bachira coaxes him through it, his hand wrapped around the base of the dildo, guiding it in and out of his tight little ass.

Sure, it hurt a little at first, but the second it reached that spot, the pain completely washed away. And this is only the first size, Isagi can surely take more, he wants to take more. At this point, with his cock twitching and pulsing as it slides across the fabric of his bedsheets, he hopes it hurts a little.

“Can take more- please~” Isagi begs, suddenly unbothered by the prospect of being a bottom. Right now, he’ll be whatever Bachira wants. He’ll be a dog, he’ll put on makeup and dress like a schoolgirl, he’ll-

“We can go up a size, I think.” Bachira speaks in a softer voice than normal, almost teasing in how calm and peaceful he sounds. “You have such a pretty hole.” He places a kiss to Isagi’s back. “So tight, I can’t wait to fuck you myself.”

“Yeah- fuck.” Isagi whines. “Up a size, but I’m not gonna last.” He says honestly, his body nearly shaking from the feeling of his full balls begging to burst at any moment.

Bachira takes the next size up, lathering it in a thick layer of lube before poking the tip at his entrance.

Isagi mumbles into the pillow, trying once again not to be too loud.

“Do you want it?” Bachira taunts, whispering in his ear, his hot breath sending shivers down Isagi’s spine.

“Mhm~” Isagi moans.

“Are you sure?” Bachira continues to tease, clearly back to his normal, devilish self. He loves watching Isagi squirm, knowing he has such an intense effect on him.

“Please~” Isagi lifts his head up, whispering his plea.

Bachira leans down further, holding the vibrating tip against Isagi’s ass. “I love it when you beg.” He says, slowly forcing it inside him.

It doesn’t slide in easily, but Isagi’s okay with that. He loves when it hurts a little, sending painful shocks up through his body only makes his cock twitch harder. There’s something about that pain that makes Bachira excited too, those thrusts only get more forceful when Isagi whines out.

“M-more-” Isagi chokes on his own breath. “More-more more~” He whines, his fingernails nearly ripping through the sheets as he stuffs his face into the pillow.

Bachira reaches under Isagi’s frame, gripping his desperate cock in his free hand while maintaining control over the vibrator.

“Ah-!” Isagi gasps, instinctively grinding into Bachira’s hand as the vibrator makes contact with his sweet spot.

He doesn’t even have time to warn Bachira before he releases, spurts of hot cum shooting into the blank canvas of the mattress, decorating it with creamy white strings. It’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever felt, with his ass squeezing tight around the vibrator and Bachira’s hand squeezing tightly around his cock. He feels lightheaded, breathless, desperate to hold onto the feeling.

“Fuck-” Bachira reacts, slowing his hand, feeling Isagi’s cum drip down and ripple through between his fingers.

Isagi can’t even hear himself as he rides out his high, his brain foggy with the feeling of ecstasy coursing through him. But Bachira can certainly hear him, whining and mewling like an animal in heat. If Isagi wasn’t so new to all of this- he’d flip him over and fuck him right now. But compared to the 3 inch vibrator that Isagi’s puckered hole is already so tightly wrapped around- Bachira would still rip him apart.

Instead, he lays him down in the puddle of his own cum, slowly removing the vibrator and wiping him clean, softly kissing his chest, raking his fingers through Isagi’s messy hair.

“Is that what I’ve missed?” Isagi speaks after what feels like ages of Bachira watching his chest sputter as it rises and falls.

“Mhmmmm~” Bachira hums. “You’re awfully desperate.”

“I feel so exhausted but I feel like I want more too.” Isagi grumbles. “I can’t believe you’re doing all this for me.” He says after another moment. The post orgasmic state fills him with a feeling of appreciation and sentiment, like he just wants to float on a sea of flowers.

“This is for me too.” Bachira snickers. “We’ve got the whole week still.” He lays next to Isagi on the pillow, his hands behind his head, strategically lacing his thighs between Isagi’s.

“Right.” Isagi says, his feeling of ecstasy suddenly being overcome with a feeling of sentiment, even disappointment. “The week.”

They could lay there for ages, and maybe they should, but the world still moves forward. Isagi still has practice, Bachira still has meetings. They have to work, and eat, and sleep- though in this moment Isagi feels like Bachira’s presence counts as basic human needs.

He shouldn’t tell him he loves him.

He can’t tell him that.

“I should shower.” Isagi says instead, finally finding the strength to sit up, looking over his shoulder at Bachira, dressed only in his boxers with his hair messily spread across the pillow he rests his head on. All those marks are forming into lovely purple bruises. It makes him look even more beautiful.

“Okay.” Bachira smiles. A genuine one.

And that’s enough. It has to be.

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bachissidehoe · 1 year ago

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Blue Lock Boys’ Kinks [feat. Isagi, Bachira, Chigiri, Nagi, Reo, Rin, Sae]

Isagi is so quick to make decisions, but he prefers to take his time with you. He’ll plunge his thick cock into you, soaking up the arousal from your tight walls and rest there, breath catching in the back of his throat. With every clench of your pretty pussy, he’ll grow more eager, his eyes snapped shut and his mouth hanging open. But he won’t move just yet, he needs just a little longer. He’ll even slide his plump tip just inside your aching cunt, tracing it over your rim over and over until you’re begging him to fuck you. Your Isagi will wait as long as he can, edging himself with your hole until he physically can’t hold back. Even though you’re begging and whining for him, you love it too- how his cock twitches inside you, how his body shakes, how thick and creamy his load is when he finally fucks it into you.

Bachira can’t help but let the monster out when he gets a hold of you, clawing and biting at your soft, smooth skin. He gets off to the sight of you with blood dripping from wounds he made- trickling down your neck, your thighs, your back. He loves fucking you from the back so he can break your skin with his nails and teeth, watching your sore ass jiggle as his cock slams into you over and over. Seeing you bleeding and whining only makes him cum harder, faster. He loves cumming on your already messy body, mixing cum and blood and leaving you a mess of fluids.

Chigiri loves to be cockwarmed. Despite his speed and impatience with slow moving society, he lets you sit on his cock for hours, soaking both of your inner thighs as your cunt molds to his shape. He gets hard so easily too, even a kiss can get his cock twitching for more. So he’ll plop you in his lap, calmly moving your panties to the side so he can slide into you. He’s so patient, holding your hips and pressing light kisses to your neck, watching shows and videos with you, scrolling through TikTok, all while his thick shaft kisses your insides.

Nagi loves looking for the easy way out, even when facing the hassle of desperation for your pretty body. The second he can get a hold of you, he has you pinned to the bed, one hand holding your wrists together and his legs trapping yours. All that got to be too much though, so he switched to tying you up, knotting thick ropes to your hands and chaining your feet to the bed posts. It’s much easier this way- with you held in place he can fuck you exactly how he wants it. If you thrash, he’ll tie tighter. Your comfort is no object to him, he’ll tie tight enough to leave rope marks if he has to. Secretly, he even enjoys your little pleas for mercy.

Reo arrived with a cute little collar, puppy ears, and a leash- but not for you to wear. The pretty rich boy loves to bark for his owner, getting down on all fours with his tongue hanging out and his eyes wide. He begs for your attention, hoping to earn a turn with your pussy if he’s a good boy. And he’s always a good boy, even if his drool drips onto your chest while he fucks you, even if he cums fast because he just can’t hold back, even if he howls loud enough to reverberate off the walls of his bedroom. He never fails to take care of you either- lapping at your juices until you’re squirting on his face over and over again. He’s a messy puppy.

Rin fucks you until his brain turns off and his tongue hangs out. His eyes go dark as he becomes mesmerized from the feeling of your pussy, a drooling mess all over your face, your chest, your tummy, your thighs. He won’t stop either, not even when he cums. He’ll keep forcing his throbbing cock deep inside you, breathing heavily with that pussy drunk expression of his, fucking his cum back into you until he’s seeing stars. He loves the overstimulation, after all, the high doesn’t end if he refuses to come down from it. Instead, he’ll fuck you until he cums as many times as he wants, back-to-back overstimulation orgasms until his cock is milked completely dry.

Sae loves fucking you, of course, but he loves getting fucked even more. His pretty hole puckers for you, begging you to slide your strap inside. He loves when he can feel the silicone cock in his tummy, pressing against his sweet spot with every thrust into his tight ass. He loves when you give him little slaps too, leaving red handprints on his skin. He makes so many pretty sounds while you fuck him, whining and mewling like a cat in heat. You reach underneath him, stroking his pulsing cock in your hand until he cums, thick white ropes spurting onto the mattress below.

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bachissidehoe · 1 year ago

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you wish

chapter 9 of it's classy, not classic [bachisagi]

Tonight is the night of Bachira’s art symposium, the final symposium of the Tokyo Art Tour. That’s the entire reason Bachira’s been living here. After this, his business in Tokyo finishes and he’ll move away to continue his work. It’s all been building to this, since this will be the final event that Isagi and Bachira will be publicly presenting as a couple.

The two of them have had plenty of conversations about this night, knowing that they would be “breaking up” shortly after. But now, now that Isagi is looking at himself in the mirror, he’s realizing just how serious tonight will be. Not just for the public perception, but for himself as well. He’s admitted now that he likes Bachira in a different way than just a friend. He fantasized plenty about their relationship being real, but it’s unrealistic. This event is his opportunity to both grasp and let go of these feelings.

But why can’t Bachira just stay in Tokyo? Does his job really require him to leave? Well, no. Technically, he can be an artist from wherever he wants. But this has always been the plan. Bachira finishes up his tour here, he goes home and lives close to his mother, who is also an artist, and lives out his life the way he wants. Isagi asking him to do something different would be selfish and inconsiderate. Especially after his conversation with him in which he suggested he try to play soccer again, only to be met with the pain he’s kept deep down all this time. Forcing him to live in Tokyo to be faced with the life he wished he had is unfair.

Isagi sighs, checking himself over from head to toe. He’s learned a lot from Bachira since the last time he had to get dressed up for something, but he still doesn’t look nearly as good as when Bachira was in charge. Still, he’s done his best. He wears a navy blue vest and navy blue dress pants, coupled with a button down black shirt and navy blue bowtie. He pushed his hair back too, showing off his “distinguished” look. All things considered, Isagi looks good.

He continues to check himself in his phone’s camera all the way to the event, through the train ride, on the short walk from the station to the convention center, as he stands outside, building his confidence to enter.

And as he does, god damn. This is surely the most high class event Isagi has ever been to. Isagi thought he was enjoying a high class life as an athlete, but that’s nothing compared to the lifestyle one must live to attend an event like this. The entire convention center is decorated in a sparkling gold motif, with chandeliers made of gemstones and guests holding gold napkins underneath their dazzling champagne glasses. Even in Isagi’s most try-hard rich boy outfit, he still looks drastically out of place.

“Sir, can I have your name please?”

Isagi turns, shaking his gaze away from the impressive atmosphere to bring his attention to the check-in desk. Even this is gorgeous, with multiple women in matching suits and hairstyles standing behind the high-top rectangular table, dressed in a black silk tablecloth and gold booklets holding the names of the prestigious guests. Isagi imagines even the check-in people went through multiple rounds of hair and makeup before being cleared to act as the faces of the event.

“Hello, yes. Isagi Yoichi.” Isagi responds, trying his absolute hardest not to sound as anxious and confused as he feels.

“Oh, of course, Isagi-sama.” The woman nods. “I hardly recognized you outside of a soccer setting.” She chuckles. Even the chuckle is professional.

But at least she recognizes him. Maybe his standing will give him a leg up in fitting in at this event.

“You have been registered as Bachira Meguru-sama’s guest. Help yourself to the complimentary champagne and hors d'oeuvres.” The woman hands him a golden lanyard with a metal card engraved with his name. None of those conference-style paper nametags, a literal engraved tag.

“Thank you very much.” Isagi bows, flashing her a kind smile, grabbing a booklet with descriptions of the different artists, exhibits, and their locations in the conference hall.

He makes his way inside the event, surrounded by mainly old men and their frighteningly young wives. The art scene is a very different world than soccer. From what Bachira has described, high class art is most often enjoyed by many, but acquired by few. To be as successful of an artist as he is, his work must appeal to the rich and famous, acting as tools to display to the other rich and famous.

In Isagi’s amateur opinion, this brand of individuals cannot possibly understand the emotional aspects of the art, but then again, Isagi doesn’t quite get it either.

The first step is likely to get a glass of this high class champagne, as it seems like everyone, no matter what they’re doing, is holding one, taking very small sips of it every once in a while. That shouldn’t be too hard of a task.

“Isagi!” A voice calls, forcing him to turn from his place in line at the bar.

“Ah fuck.” Isagi groans under his breath. “Um, Hiro-” He starts, realizing he actually doesn’t recall his full first name or his last name. Come to think of it, maybe he actually never knew. He could have assumed he would be here as someone so high up in the art world, but then again, Isagi was under the impression that he was only here a few weeks ago to stalk Bachira.

“Good to see you again.” He smiles. It annoys Isagi. “I’m so sorry, I never fully introduced myself the last time we met. It’s Abe Hiroshi.” He reaches out to shake Isagi’s hand.

Obviously, Isagi wants to take his hand and squeeze it until his fingers crack one by one, but he gives him a simple handshake instead.

“Oh, your first name is Hiroshi, that makes sense.” Isagi says aloud.

“Hah, yeah. Only the closest to me have ever called me Hiro.” He chuckles, hopping into line next to Isagi.

That statement nearly makes hot steam start streaming out of Isagi’s ears. The thought of Bachira being the “closest” to this guy makes him want to kick him in the knees.

“I apologize, Abe-san.” He replies.

“Don’t worry about it!” He slaps him on the back, a little too playfully for Isagi’s liking.

“So, um, are you presenting at this event?” Isagi asks through gritted teeth, praying he won’t be expected to hang out with this guy. Or even worse, if this guy wants to spend his time fucking with Bachira at his exhibit. It may turn into a let’s-take-this-outside-moment if that’s the case.

“No, no. I’m one of the members of the board who put this event on, I’m just doing my rounds throughout the night.” He explains, waving and smiling at some rich looking dudes as they walk by.

It seems as though Abe Hiroshi is much more important than Isagi had imagined. It was true what Bachira said, that Hiro was the reason why he became a popular artist. That no matter what happened between the two of them, Bachira can’t do anything to bring Hiro to justice for the way he treated him. He’s too powerful.

“Oh, I see. Wow, that’s impressive.” Isagi replies. And this time he means it. It is quite impressive, even if this guy is wholeheartedly a dickbag.

Additionally, if Bachira or Isagi were to piss this guy off, it’s possible that he could ruin Bachira’s career. That’s the type of power he has.

Hiro turns away from the crowd, ensuring his words are being spoken to Isagi and Isagi only. “I know that my relationship with Ru was ruined because of my own actions, I just want to put you at ease that I got a little excited about being with him, and have no intention of doing anything to make him or you uncomfortable moving forward.”

Even through that entire statement in which Hiro held himself accountable, the only thing Isagi can hear is that nickname. Why would he be allowed to call Bachira something so affectionate?

“I understand. I appreciate that.” Isagi replies, maintaining his composure through his irrational anger.

“If you haven’t seen his exhibit yet, you really should. It made me realize that I never really understood him at all.” Hiro scratches the back of his head, turning back to the side to face outward toward the crowd.

“I will visit it.” Isagi nods, acquiring his glass of champagne.

Hiro is truly a strange guy, clearly he’s the type of person who’s never been told “no” in his entire life. No wonder he wouldn’t listen to Bachira’s repeated “no’s”. He’s rich, attractive, popular, and has immense power. But still, he could be using that power in a much more harmful way than he is. As hard as it is for Isagi to grasp, it’s likely true that Hiro does care about Bachira and his success on a personal level.

Isagi can’t help but feel immense rage toward that guy, an incessant need to lock him up somewhere so Bachira never has to look so afraid again. But at least he’s staying out of the way. And now Isagi’s here, he can protect Bachira, he can keep him safe.

Bachira’s exhibit, titled “You Wish”, is located in the center of the event, one of the highlights of the entire symposium, apparently. This publicity stunt between him and Isagi has actually generated enough buzz to put Bachira on the radars of the most prominent art gurus.

And as soon as Isagi is within range of Bachira’s exhibit, he can see why his talent has captured the attention of so many. There are colors splashed on canvases that reflect off the glittering chandeliers in a way that makes the area look decorated in rainbows. Before Isagi can even see paintings up close, he can feel Bachira’s presence in the atmosphere of the “You Wish” exhibit.

“Yoichi!”

Bachira spots him before he even notices, calling and waving in a way that Isagi feels like would get him kicked out of his event if he weren’t the premiere artist. Regardless, Isagi’s cheeks instantly turn a deep shade of pink.

“I’m so happy to see you.” Bachira tears himself away from the conversation he was having, with clearly very important people, to run toward Isagi, nearly jumping into his arms.

Isagi nearly falls over from cuteness, Bachira’s never acted this sweet in public with him before. “Hi Bach- Meguru.” He smiles, wrapping his arms around him in a comforting hug. His cologne is intoxicating, traveling through Isagi’s sensory receptors like it’s putting a spell on him. He wonders if Bachira ever felt anything similar toward him. He wears a gold pair of dress pants and a black ribbed sweater, a long gold chain hanging from his neck. He looks much less dressy than the people attending the event, but Isagi imagines he probably dressed like this to stand out as an artist rather than blend in with the crowd. Regardless, he looks good. He always does, though.

As Bachira walks him into the exhibit, the cameras are flashing, the people are calling for him, waving him down, complimenting him. But all Isagi can do is stare in awe, completely taken over by these paintings. As he looks at them, he can’t believe he’s never seen any of Bachira’s works before.

It’s all so clear, even someone as dense as Isagi understands what’s happening here immediately. Those colors he saw earlier were only from half of the exhibit. The second half.

The first half of the exhibit is painted in dark colors, blacks, grays, purples, dark blues. The second half is where the brightness is, with reds, blues, yellows, and bright greens. Every single painting here has one overarching theme: soccer.

Isagi shouldn’t feel so surprised, especially after Bachira confessed how hard it has been watching everyone progress without him. But these paintings bring a new sense of emotion to his world, a look into the true tortured mind of Bachira Meguru. What it’s really like for him to watch others live out his dream.

The dark side of the exhibit depicts gut wrenching imagery: an arm tangled in a net, eerily similar texture to that of a soccer net, a hypnotic image with the same patterns seen on a soccer ball, a broken, gray trophy filled with grass and mud, a vast, empty field with dark clouds looming above a lone figure, and a large monster-looking shadow branching out from the figure. This is Bachira Meguru’s life after his injury, his heartbroken state of losing what he loved most.

And the bright side of the exhibit is even more heartbreaking: bright fields with fists raised into the air, a ball breaking through the back of a soccer net, a blast generated from someone powerfully kicking a ball. And the most beautiful painting: a sun shining light down onto a figure with their back toward the viewer, a figure wearing the number 11. In fact, all of these images showcase the number 11 somewhere. Isagi’s number.

He can’t help but tear up at the realization of what he’s looking at. It’s the way Bachira feels about himself and his dreams versus the way he feels about Isagi living them. He’s tortured, yet he’s so happy for Isagi. Isagi can only imagine his face as he was painting these, as he was moving the brushes through globs of acrylic paint with tears streaming down his cheeks. It’s not fair. Bachira should be out on that field with him.

“Meguru- I-” Isagi gasps, his breath still floating around the room somewhere without him. Probably with the soul that left his body at the same time his breath was taken away.

“This one will be receiving the Color Masterpiece Award soon. The most prestigious award here.” Bachira smiles, following Isagi’s gaze to the painting his brain described as the most beautiful one. “I named it “You Wish”, that’s where I got the name for the exhibit.”

“It’s amazing. You’re amazing.” Isagi finally turns to him, his eyes still wide with what he can only describe as dazzlement. “Is that- is that me?”

“No way, just some random pro soccer player who happens to mean a lot to me and also wears the number 11.” He chuckles.

Isagi’s heart drops into his stomach. Who happens to mean a lot to me. “It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. You have incredible talent.”

“Well, let’s hope it sells.” He laughs, turning back to his audience to smile and wave at them.

Artists really are something. Bachira can act as silly and expressive as he wants here; it's viewed as part of the artistic vision. But if a guest would dare to act so jumpy and eccentric, Isagi imagines they would surely be escorted away from the premises.

Isagi can only stand and continue staring at the paintings, admiring the emotion in every single brush stroke. He stands and stares through the entire award ceremony, watching Bachira shake the hands of so many rich old dudes as a large golden ribbon is placed next to his painting. Cameras flash and people clap respectfully, eager to speak with the artist himself as they admire the gold ribbon next to the painting that is now valued at over 1.5 million yen.

“Yoichi, get over here!” Bachira calls again, forcing Isagi out of yet another trance to grab him for a picture.

Isagi smiles, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “You are so cool.” Isagi breathes out as Bachira throws his arm around him.

“Hah!”

“You painted all this stuff while we’ve been dating?” Isagi asks, ignoring all the shouts from the judges and important people looking to document this award.

“Yeah, kinda embarrassing huh.” Bachira giggles, playfully sticking his tongue out at Isagi. “My feelings for you are about to make me pretty damn rich though.”

And in that moment, Isagi can’t help himself. There’s a wave of emotion that crashes over him, from the paintings, to seeing how good Bachira looks, to watching him smile while getting that award, to hearing him basically confess to him right here. The switch flips. He feels it every time he’s on the field, and he felt it that one time he “practice” kissed Bachira.

He grabs the collar of Bachira’s sweater, crashing their bodies together as he forcefully plants his lips against that cute little tongue poking out at him. Isagi will probably feel the embarrassment from this later, there’s people everywhere, they’re all watching.

Bachira is completely caught off guard, his eyes remaining wide open for a moment before his body can respond to the fact that Isagi is kissing him like this. His fists clench next to him, his heart rate increasing as he finds himself unable to react. He can only stand there, tasting Isagi’s plump lips in front of the entire crowd.

Isagi pulls back with a reddened face and a look of cautioned bliss. “I’m sorry about that.”

Roars of applause, flashing cameras, and “aww’s” come from the large crowd in the exhibit. The people love it, a surprising development in a public display of affection between two guys in Tokyo, Japan. That said, this couple has been populating so many news pages lately, it’s only expected that the old rich men of the art community would be made aware.

Bachira pulls back flushed as well, but recovers almost instantly. Isagi is jealous of his ability to do that, while he’ll be stuck thinking about this for weeks. “You’re bold, Yoichi.” He smirks.

“I, uh, you said you have feelings for me and- I just-” Isagi rushes through it, with all these people around. It’s definitely not an ideal place for this conversation, not even close.

“Couldn’t help yourself?” Bachira maintains his sly smile.

“Yeah. I couldn’t.” Isagi chokes.

“We should make the most of that.”

“What do you mean?” Isagi tilts his head to the side, watching Bachira start to laugh with the guests once again, posing with some other individuals asking for a picture. But Isagi doesn’t understand why Bachira would be focusing on them when he’s right here. Isagi can’t even hear them.

Bachira turns back around. “Give me a minute, go hang out here and I’ll be there in a few.” He holds out his hand, placing a piece of paper in Isagi’s hand.

Isagi nods, stepping away to read the paper. It simply has a number on it, B-12. It must be a meeting room for the artists or something, it seems like Bachira must have been handed this paper when he first got here to tell him where to go.

It doesn’t take long for Isagi to find the room, entering the dark, small, empty space and searching for a lightswitch. After he finds himself unsuccessful, he leans against the door, letting out another long breath.

Bachira must want to yell at him or scold him for kissing him in front of all those people. If he wants to talk in private, and so immediately, it must be important.

His heart hasn’t stopped racing either.

And it races more when he feels the door press against his back, as someone tries to enter.

“Fuck- sorry-” Isagi moves away, allowing Bachira to open the door and enter the dark room. Even in the dark, Isagi can see the light from those golden eyes of his.

“Hey.” Bachira chirps, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, I’m sorry I did that in front of those people, I should have just talked to you and told you more later but I-”

Isagi is quickly cut off as Bachira closes the gap between them, pressing his lips fervently against his. He pulls away just as quickly as he kissed him.

“What are you-” Isagi squeaks, his confidence suddenly diminishing.

“Capitalizing on this, hm?” Bachira turns Isagi around, slowly backing him against the door. The light trickles in from underneath the door, giving him just enough to illuminate Bachira’s face.

“What do yo-”

“Shhhh~” Bachira presses a finger to Isagi’s lips. It must be a tactic to strengthen that spell he cast on Isagi earlier with the smell of his cologne. It’s a very effective one. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Isagi has never seen Bachira like this, not even when they kissed that other time. His smile is devilish, but not in a sassy way. His eyes are dark, but not in a tired way. His voice is raspy, but not in a groggy way.

Isagi can’t do a thing against this form of Bachira Meguru.

All he can do is gulp and nod slowly.

That’s all it takes for Bachira to close the gap once again, one arm pressed against the wood of the door, and the other gripping the fabric of Isagi’s button down shirt. Isagi is trapped by his body, but that’s exactly where he wants to be, with Bachira’s legs pressing him harder against the door as he kisses him deeply.

This isn’t a practice kiss. It’s not a fake kiss. There’s nobody to see it, nobody to report on it, nobody to testify to the realness of their relationship. It’s just the two of them, breathing heavily between smooth, wet kisses. Bachira’s tongue tastes like heaven and his lips feel like a fluffy cloud, Isagi never realized a kiss like this could remove his soul from his body only to reincarnate him with every sleek swipe of Bachira’s perfect tongue.

Isagi tries to keep his hands balled into fists at his side, willing them not to move on their own, begging that they hold themselves back from what he really wants with this moment. But they don’t listen, those stupid hands. They travel up Bachira’s back, one hand finding its way to tangle in his two-toned scruffy hair while the other finds an entry point onto his bare skin. His hair is so soft, and his skin is so smooth, directly contrasting how his kisses get rougher with every forced breath he takes.

Isagi finds the lust taking over. Bachira was right, this feeling is different from kissing a girl. It’s better. He can’t imagine a place he’d rather be than right here, in this dark room, with Bachira’s tongue exploring the inside of his mouth. He doesn’t care about the little sounds he keeps letting slip, he doesn’t care that he’s not in charge the way he thought he’d be.

“Hmm~” Bachira hums against his lips, feeling Isagi’s nails grazing against the skin of his back, his other hand tugging lightly on his soft locks. “I really like that, you know.” He mumbles, his raspy voice digging into Isagi’s mind, into a place that he’s sure to revisit again and again. He sounds so beautiful.

“Okay.” Isagi breathes, his heart rate increased to potentially dangerous levels as he watches quick breaths escape from Bachira’s slightly parted lips with every movement of Isagi’s fingers tangled in his hair and pressed into his back.

Bachira doesn’t waste the opportunity to trail his own hands down Isagi’s body, resting briefly on his hips, then trailing just a bit inward, enough to make Isagi wince against his lips. Bachira chuckles, a demonic little giggle. “I love making you squirm.” He admits, pulling Isagi’s bottom lip between his teeth.

Isagi can only breathe heavier, his vision growing blurry as he tries to process the sensations coursing through his entire body. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants Bachira to do.

Bachira grabs Isagi’s hair, pulling his head to the side so he can whisper in his ear. “Your legs are shaking.” He rasps, his teeth clamping on Isagi’s earlobe as he tastes it with his tongue.

“I- I know-” Isagi’s voice is shaky too, both of his hands now tugging on Bachira’s hair.

“Every time I do something you like, you pull harder on my hair, did you know that?” Bachira asks, his hot breath tickling his saliva-coated earlobe.

“Hmm~ no-” Isagi whines.

“You should tell me what else you want.” Bachira turns Isagi’s head to face him directly again, that same gorgeous demon smile plastered on his perfect face. “You damn egoist.”

Isagi can only react, his body doing the work for him as he kisses him again, unable to spend another second apart from his lips. His hands trail down Bachira’s body, moving to make contact with the strong hands that still rest on his waist.

He grabs his wrist.

“That’s it~” Bachira coaches. “Put my hand where you want it.”

There’s no more semblance of reality in Isagi’s entire mind or body, there’s only Bachira. If he were asked where he is right now, what he does for a living, why he’s here, there would be no answers. Only Bachira. Just this moment, just his hand moving toward the exceptionally tight bulge in his pants.

“You should tell me what to do, Yoichi.” He whispers. “I won’t know unless you tell me.”

Isagi gasps, feeling Bachira’s hand make contact with his clothed erection. “I- fuck- I want you on your knees.” Isagi manages to moan out, breathing heavily as he looks at Bachira’s lustful gaze.

“Good boy.” He replies, dropping to his knees without breaking eye contact for even a second.

With every movement, the sounds of his belt buckle coming undone, everything Bachira does, he feels shivers run down his spine. He can’t fathom the electric shocks lighting up his core as he feels Bachira sliding his pants down his shaky thighs.

Isagi leans his back against the door, watching breathlessly as Bachira releases his cock from its confinement, golden eyes still trained on Isagi’s blue ones.

“Oh fuck, you are so pretty.” Bachira gasps, his fingers slowly wrapping around Isagi’s fully erect cock.

“I- I thought- you must have- seen- it before~” Isagi breathlessly watches Bachira trace his fingers up and down his cock, his thumb rubbing over the oozing tip, spreading his precum around his plump, pink head.

“Not like this, pretty boy.” Bachira chuckles, wrapping one hand around the base, jerking it slowly a few times. “Don’t try to hold it back for me, got it?” He winks, his seductive movements making Isagi feel like he could cum already.

Bachira’s lips wrap around his tip, squeezing down as he plays with it, letting his tongue soak up the taste of him. Isagi leans harder on the door, praying that his body weight doesn’t break it from the amount of force he’s putting on it.

Is this feeling what he’s been missing out on? This feeling he was convinced he didn’t need? Because right now, he’s damn sure he’ll never be able to feel anything as good as this.

Bachira tightens his hand around the base of Isagi’s shaft, stroking it and moving his mouth up and down at the same time. He could do this for days, years if Isagi wanted. Those pretty whimpers escaping from his slightly parted lips are ethereal.

“I- don’t know how long-” Isagi grunts, his hips thrusting into Bachira’s mouth on their own. The sensation feels like thousands of missiles are exploding inside his body, sending bursts of ecstasy toward every single nerve he has.

The way Bachira’s tongue moves, the way he licks and sucks at the same time, he is amazing. He’s so damn good at it. For someone acting so dominant, it really seems like Bachira’s quite the giver. He’d rather kneel in front of Isagi’s shaky body than make him do it instead. And Bachira’s not upset with that decision at all, no, he loves doing this. He loves feeling the drool build up in his mouth only to escape from the corners of his lips, he loves how Isagi’s cock tastes, he loves how drops of precum dribble onto his tongue, how his cock twitches with every quick movement.

Bachira hums in response, the vibrations stimulating Isagi’s cock as he finds his hands making their way back into Bachira’s hair.

He pulls, harder this time, pushing his cock further into Bachira’s used mouth. There’s something about seeing Bachira like this, on his knees, so gracefully sucking that thick cock, it makes Isagi want to force it further. If he wasn’t so shaky right now, if he wasn’t so stimulated by the intensity of the situation, he’d tell him to suck it harder, he’d hold his head in place and watch the tears fall. But he can’t, he’s so dizzy, so overstimulated, taken over by the sensations Bachira’s making him feel.

Isagi grips on his hair, moaning as he feels him hurtling toward his edge. “I- Megu-” He whines.

Bachira holds his position, looking up to meet Isagi’s gaze as he releases, cumming in thick, white ropes down Bachira’s throat. Bachira doesn’t even falter for a moment, taking his thick load with no trouble at all.

“Ah~” Isagi whines, his mouth open wide as he breathes heavily, the sensations of Bachira’s lips on his cock sending him into overdrive. He could pass out from how hard he came. He could die right here, he would be happy with that.

“There ya go, better?” Bachira pulls back, looking up at Isagi with an innocent expression, as if he didn’t just swallow his entire load in one gulp.

“Mhm.” Isagi doesn’t know what else to say, he can really only stare at his fake boyfriend, on the floor in front of him, his tongue freshly coated with his cum.

“You needed that, I bet.” Bachira stands up, sliding Isagi’s boxers up with him.

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzz.

Bachira’s phone buzzes in his pocket, distracting him from his current task of dressing Isagi for the second time since they’ve known each other.

“Hello?” Bachira answers.

Isagi stands with his hand covering his mouth, fearful that his loud post-orgasm breaths could get Bachira in trouble.

“No, I just had to step outside, I’m coming right back.” He chuckles, pausing as the person on the other line speaks. “I know, I know, I can’t stay in one place for too long though. You know that.” Another pause. “Alright! I’m coming, be right there.” He ends the call, looking back toward Isagi.

“Just in time, I gotta give my speech.” He giggles, back to that cute little playful giggle he always does.

“A-are- I- really?” Isagi stutters, still in recovery mode.

“Yeah, what? Is it hot that you gotta come watch me speak after you just came in my mouth?” He pokes his tongue out, taunting him.

“Uh, uh huh.” Isagi nods, dazed.

“See ya there, then.” He places a quick kiss to Isagi’s lips, leaving him in that dark room with his dress pants still crumpled around his ankles.

Isagi somehow put himself back together in time to make it back into the crowd to listen to Bachira’s acceptance speech, but he is confident he didn’t hear a single word.

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bachissidehoe · 1 year ago

Text

diamonds

chapter 8 of it's classy, not classic [bachisagi]

Miss.

“Fuck.”

Miss.

“Damnit.”

Isagi kicks over and over again, tens of balls scattered around the empty goal. It’s a classic trope, playing poorly when something’s wrong, and it bothers Isagi that he’s fallen into such a basic pattern. He’s bothered, and now he sucks at soccer.

It was clear at practice today that he sucks. If he never got himself into this mess, if he never said that one stupid line in that interview, he wouldn’t suck, and he wouldn’t be having an identity crisis over a guy.

He runs forward, lining up a perfect direct shot. His direct shot has evolved so much over the past few years, it’s become uniquely his and studied by players from around the world.

Miss.

Even his own shot, a shot he practically invented, soars wide of the goal.

Isagi nearly collapses on the ground, his entire body shaking as he tries to move to collect the balls. He may pass out, he’s been here for hours, probably six or seven hours straight now, doing nothing but shooting, nothing but missing. In fact, he hasn’t eaten since this morning, hoping the small sips of water throughout the day will sustain him enough until he gets his shit together.

There’s nothing that’ll force him off this field. If he passes out due to low blood sugar, so be it. He’d rather die than lose to himself right now.

He hoped he’d never have to admit to himself that he’s in love with Bachira Meguru. It’s not fair. His one true love is soccer. Not anything, or anyone, besides soccer. It’s not fair to Bachira either, somebody who’s been nothing but kind and supportive of Isagi when he did nothing to end up involved in this mess. And now Isagi would have the nerve to fall in love with him? To want him to stay in Tokyo even though he’s only here temporarily?

No way.

The only thing that will cure this is for Isagi to remind himself where his priorities lie. And that’s why he’s been aimlessly, exhaustedly, kicking balls from halfway down the field, over and over, desperate to forget everything except the feeling of scoring a goal. But apparently, the goal itself wants to see how this Bachira thing plays out, because it hasn’t let Isagi score at all.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to simply lie down and die.

“Yo!”

Isagi turns around, his body recognizing the cheerful voice before his mind does.

It’s only then that Isagi realizes how badly he’s worn down. Bachira’s face is blurry, everything is spinning, and it’s hard to stay standing. He can’t even respond to the beautiful buzzing of his fake boyfriend’s happy greeting.

“Oh, fuck.” Bachira realizes immediately the dire situation Isagi has put himself in, noticing the bags under his eyes from nearly 50 meters away.

Bachira runs over, putting his things down before swiftly slinking his arm around Isagi’s back, practically needing to hold him up. “Come here, sit for a little.”

“No way. I suck.” Isagi chokes out, his voice coming out shaky and hoarse. Honestly, if Bachira didn’t show up, he may have actually passed out.

“Obviously you do, you can’t be good with no food in your system.” Bachira sits Isagi on the ground against the bench, handing him a smoothie. The strawberry kiwi delight from Honeybee. Of course it is.

That’s just the thing about Bachira. Somehow he can combine his egoist nature with being the most thoughtful, selfless person Isagi has ever met. Of course he realized that Isagi needed help, of course he stopped to pick him up a smoothie, of course he showed up at the perfect time.

Isagi would never be able to do the same for him. All he does is think about himself. Even now, while he’s been thinking about Bachira and his newly realized romantic feelings, he’s still only thinking about himself.

Bachira takes a seat next to him, leaning back and taking a sip of his own strawberry kiwi delight. He sighs. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Why’d you even show up?” Isagi asks. He doesn’t try to sound like a dick, but he probably sounded like a dick.

“I thought something was up. I got worried, went to your house, then thought about how you said you weren’t feeling too good after the party. Got even more worried ‘cuz if you went to practice when you’re sick, what if something happened? Then I had a feeling if you’re here practicing, you probably need something to eat. Now I’m here with a smoothie, and I was right.” He chuckles to himself.

“Why would you take care of me?” Again, all Isagi needs to do is thank him. And he can’t even do that right.

“Clearly you can’t do it yourself.” He replies, taking another long sip of his smoothie.

Isagi leans back against the wall of the practice field, seated on the hot turf. He takes a few deep breaths, and finally takes a sip of the smoothie. It really is good. It almost angers Isagi how right Bachira was to bring him this.

“Feeling better?” Bachira chuckles.

“Shut it.” Isagi snaps.

Bachira holds his hands up in defeat, sliding a little closer to Isagi against the wall, copying his distant look into the bright blue sky. The silence is a little uncomfortable for Bachira, but he lets the moment exist instead of forcing more of a conversation. He’ll learn to appreciate some silence if he has to.

He takes a deep breath, rolling his head to the side to look at Isagi. He looks tired, his chest rising and falling as he takes quick sips of his smoothie. Beads of sweat still roll down the side of his flushed face, his bangs stuck to his forehead. But somehow, it’s hard for Bachira to stop staring. He makes a mental note that Isagi’s eyes sparkle in the sunlight. He’d tell him out loud, but he’s just made a promise to himself not to break the comfortable silence.

“Thank you.” Isagi finally mumbles, his eyes still trained on the sky above.

Bachira smiles. “1v1 me.”

Isagi finally tears his gaze away from the sky, turning his head to meet Bachira’s bright golden eyes. “Huh?”

“Come on, let’s play some.” Bachira hops up, taking the last long swig of his smoothie at once.

“You don’t even play.” Isagi puts on a confused grin.

“Sure I do.” Bachira retorts, holding his hand out for Isagi. “You’re all worn out, so it basically makes us evenly matched.”

Isagi sighs. “Fine.” He still needs to practice, even though he’s been here all day and hasn’t accomplished a single thing. Perhaps Bachira realizes that he won’t go home without accomplishing something, and that’s why he wants to stay with him.

“Alright!” Bachira places his foot on a ball, standing opposite Isagi. “I’ll start first and try to get past you. If I score, I win, if you score, you win.” He smirks, that same smile he used to do on the field. Back when Isagi first met him. Bachira was the first person who Isagi ever felt cared about soccer as much as he did. Even now, after Bachira hasn’t played for years, he still looks that same way.

“Gotcha.” Isagi stands at the ready, wondering if he should go a little easier than usual, considering Bachira hasn’t played in so long. But on the other hand, an egoist would never accept that. And Bachira Meguru is the definition of an egoist.

Bachira slides to his right, creating adequate space to push the ball forward. Isagi watches his movements carefully, calculating all possible pathways he could take to get around him. And knowing Bachira, he’d be most likely to do a fake, right-

Isagi lurches toward the left, avoiding the fake he’s sure to pull on him. Gah-

Bachira performs an expert dribbling pattern, almost as if the ball is on a string, expertly floating between the two of them to Bachira Meguru’s desires, landing on the opposite side of Isagi, his back completely turned the wrong way.

Isagi gasps, standing in shock as he watches Bachira dribble the rest of the way down the field, tapping the ball into the net, all the while grinning from ear to ear.

The same thing happens again, and again. Isagi gets the hang of Bachira’s movements quickly, adapting to the bumblebee’s fascinating dribbling patterns and putting up a fast fight until the exchanges started leaning in Isagi’s favor. And suddenly, even having practiced for eight hours straight with nothing but a strawberry kiwi delight in his system, Isagi is dancing right along with Bachira, exchanging goals with a smile on his face.

This is why he loves soccer.

“Bachira! You’re still so good!” Isagi passes the ball back to him, prepared for another 1v1. “Why don’t you try out again? You could totally play pro!”

Suddenly, Bachira’s expression drops, breaking eye contact with Isagi in favor of the turf below. “I’m too far behind.” He answers, his voice much weaker than before.

“No you’re not, you could easily train and get back out there.”

All these years later, Isagi has never found anyone he wants to play soccer with more than Bachira Meguru. And he’s been reminded of that today. Still, after Bachira was injured and had a long recovery period, he’s somehow still one of the best players Isagi has ever seen. He could come back, he could do it easily.

But Bachira looks up, his face riddled with an expression Isagi has never seen on him before.

Wait.

Isagi has seen Bachira make this expression before. Once.

Isagi’s eyes widen, and suddenly he’s transported to that day, the day Bachira’s soccer career was taken from him.

It was one of the final qualifying games during Blue Lock, every single person on that field was playing their hearts out, with the Isagi and Bachira duo leading the charge as usual. Bachira danced through his opponents, all the while beaming, the happiest he’s ever been. The passes between Bachira and Isagi were so in sync, competing yet cooperating with each other at the same time.

And in a second, it was over. One yellow card move from the opposing team’s defender sent Bachira’s foot flying onto the ball, his ankle immediately curling under it. The trip caused a domino effect, with two defenders colliding into Bachira from both sides. All Isagi could do was watch as Bachira went down, two large bodies falling on top of him with their full weight.

Suddenly it’s like the world was put in a bubble, the sounds around Isagi ceased, echoing through his mind as he watched paramedics race onto the field in slow motion. He couldn’t move.

And he finally caught sight of Bachira, groaning on his back as he breathed quickly, paramedics shouting at the other players and coaches to move away. Isagi couldn’t see everything, he didn’t learn until later how bad it really was. But he remembers now what Bachira looked like as they made eye contact for that brief moment, and it was just like this. That expression of fear, like his world is crashing down in front of him.

And even then, Isagi didn’t do a single thing. Sure, he reached back out later on to check in, he responded to Bachira’s “congratulations” texts after big accomplishments. But otherwise, he completely blocked it out. He let the pain of that traumatic memory leave his brain, a privilege Bachira Meguru did not have.

“No, I can’t.” Bachira chokes out.

Isagi found out some time later that Bachira had broken two ribs, fractured his tibia, and basically tore one of his ankles in half. His injuries were so extreme that it took nearly a year to fully recover with intense physical therapy. Shortly after Bachira’s injury, it became clear to the players that Bachira Meguru’s soccer career was over.

“I’ll never catch back up. I was out for a full year.” Bachira chuckles, trying to hold it together. Already, even from just the expression and the few words Bachira has uttered, Isagi can tell that he’s still not okay.

“If that happened to me, I don’t know what I’d do.” Isagi says, immediately kicking himself for saying it. What dumbass would say that? It’s like Isagi went through a list of the most insensitive things to say and picked the #1 most insensitive thing.

“Me either.” Bachira replies. “I still don’t know.”

Isagi just stands still, fearing that if he moves even a little, it’ll somehow hurt Bachira more.

“At that high of a level, being out for only a week would have been too long. So a year, I never stood a chance.” He chuckles.

“You don’t have to laugh everything off.” Isagi clenches his fists, feeling the sadness and anger begin to pile up. He feels like he could scream. At himself, at the world, at those defenders who hurt Bachira and ended his soccer career. “It sucks, and I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do all that-”

“Whatever, Meguru. I would kill myself if I couldn’t play soccer, and you’re still here. You’re such a cool person, and you’re so talented, and I’m selfish and just wish I could play soccer with you again.” Isagi rushes through his words, his voice a little louder than normal, though quieter than the screams he wants to hurl at the universe.

“I don’t know why I didn’t kill myself, honestly.” Bachira sighs, a much more intense response than Isagi expected.

And for once, Isagi decides to listen.

“There was this moment when I was laying there on the field, I was scared and I just wanted to play, but I realized this was probably it for me. I couldn’t really hear anything, but I was passing out or something, and you know when your vision is blurry if you look at a bright light for too long?” Bachira smiles that same painful smile, looking at the sun as if he wants to recreate the image he’s describing. “To me, in that moment, those sparkles in my vision looked like diamonds.”

Isagi holds his breath. He can’t ruin this, he can’t upset this moment of vulnerability. After Bachira’s taken care of his dumb ass for months, after he’s let Isagi take advantage of him, after Isagi has whined and complained in Bachira’s ear, after he’s been whining all day on the field because he likes him. He needs to shut up and hear him for once.

“That was my first ever painting.” Bachira smiles, a genuine one this time.

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bachissidehoe · 1 year ago

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that's classy

chapter 7 of it's classy, not classic [bachisagi]

Isagi steps out of the shower, wrapping the soft fluffy white towel around his waist. He lets out a breath, making blurry eye contact with the condensation-covered reflection of himself in the mirror. He grabs a second towel, ruffling his soaked hair with it, letting the droplets slide down his warm body. It was a nice shower, and he has plenty of time before tonight’s event, more than enough time to relax in his towel for a while-

“You done in there?”

The sound of a cheerful voice that can only make Isagi smile, even though it should annoy him.

He opens the bathroom door, his hair towel hanging over his head and another towel around his waist.

“Bachira?” Isagi sighs, a few loose drops of water dripping from his wet hair.

“Hey! You’re only showering now? We have to get ready!” He prances around the room.

Isagi shouldn’t have expected anything different, his fake boyfriend has made quite a habit of breaking into his apartment recently.

“We don’t have to leave for another hour, I can throw something on and get ready in like five minutes.” Isagi groans, walking toward his closet to find some boxers to throw on.

He’s gotten more comfortable with existing around Bachira over time. He’s accepted the fact that he enjoys it in this capacity a little more than he feels he should, but also that it’s not super weird to be shirtless or even pantless around him. Whether his feelings toward him are unclear or not, it’s still very normal to behave this way in front of another guy.

“No you can’t! Thank god I came over early, do you even realize what this event means for this plan?” Bachira’s prancing becomes more panicked as he follows Isagi into the closet.

Isagi drops his towel, sliding a fresh pair of boxers onto his bare legs. “Wha-!” Isagi jumps, quickly pulling the boxers up before Bachira can see his naked bottom half.

“Oop!” Bachira giggles. “Sorry.”

Isagi sighs.

“What clothes do you even have?” Bachira scampers over to Isagi’s freshly drycleaned suits, still in their plastic. “A fuck ton, actually.”

“Yeah, a lot of the time I end up with a new one for different interviews and stuff.” He starts sifting through the fabrics of mostly black suit jackets and black pants.

“Huh. Which one were you planning on wearing?” Bachira asks.

“I dunno, was just gonna throw one on and leave. But you said that’s not allowed. They’re all pretty much the same.”

“Of course it’s not allowed. Part of being gay is looking the part, and if there’s one stereotype I actually meet, it’s that one.” Bachira chuckles, starting his own survey of Isagi’s clothes.

Isagi finally gets a chance to take in Bachira’s appearance, and he’s definitely right about his ability to dress. That much is clear.

He wears a perfectly pressed pair of dark maroon suit pants with a black button down shirt, the top two buttons strategically left undone to show off the gorgeous silver chain around his neck. Over his shirt, he wears a matte maroon vest, perfectly matching his pants. Tying it together is a pair of black dress shoes and a black belt with a silver buckle, complementing his silver chain. The top layer of his hair is pulled back into a slick ponytail, with his blonde bottom layer resting just below his shoulders. A few of his blonde bangs still rest on his forehead, giving his hair a scruffy yet appealing look. Isagi would never be able to pull together an outfit like that.

“Oh, yeah you look great honestly.” Isagi observes, unable to help his gaze from lingering on him just a bit longer than it should. Those undone buttons leave just enough of his bare chest visible for Isagi to wonder if others would find him attractive, if maybe people would look at him and stare for a little too long, just like he’s doing right now. The thought makes him slightly uneasy, for some reason.

“So let’s get you looking the same.” Bachira winks. “How are you wearing your hair?”

“Uh, down?” Isagi replies. He didn’t have a plan besides drying and brushing it.

“Wrong.” Bachira sighs. “Oh, this is perfect.” He pulls a pair of black dress pants and a black blazer, both with thin silver lines through the fabric. “These would look great on you, especially the pop of silver, it would make you look taller.”

“Are you calling me short?” Isagi scoffs, folding his arms over his bare chest.

“Aren’t we, like, the same height? If I was calling you short I’d be calling myself short then too.” He throws the two garments toward Isagi, forcing him to catch them.

Isagi stumbles, quickly catching the clothes.

“Hm, oh!” Bachira finds a maroon bowtie among Isagi’s accessories, holding it against his own shirt. It’s nearly the exact same color. “I have a great idea.” He grabs a black button down shirt and black belt, also hurling them in Isagi’s direction. “We put you in the all black look, then wear this bowtie, and BOOM! We match. Like a high school dance.”

“Oh stop it.” Isagi rolls his eyes, his cheeks dusting in that familiar pink he’s become quite accustomed to since hanging out with Bachira so frequently.

“Let’s put it on and see.” Bachira wanders over to Isagi, taking the pants out of his hand, then kneeling on the floor in front of him. “Alright step in.” He looks up.

Isagi stutters. “I- I can put them on myself!” He nearly loses his footing. Seeing Bachira kneeling on the floor in front of him like that, in that outfit, looking up at him with those cheerful eyes. It’s too erotic. It should be illegal.

“You’re holding all that other stuff.” Bachira grabs at Isagi’s ankle, helping him step into each leg of the pants.

The way Bachira glides the pants up Isagi’s legs feels like he should be taking them off him instead. He’s soft and slow with it, nearly sensual. His soft hands trace up the fabric, leaving what feels like a static layer on Isagi’s skin. He stands up, buttoning the pants before reaching for the zipper.

“Ah-” Isagi tenses, willing himself not to react to Bachira’s fingers so close to his-

Zip!

“Alright now for your shirt.” Bachira grabs the black button down shirt from Isagi’s hands, helping him pull his arms through each of the sleeves.

Isagi still can’t even process what happened, willing his brain to remain empty while letting Bachira continue to dress him. If he thinks about it, if he thinks about just how good it feels for Bachira to trace over his body like this, to delicately hold him still while he makes quick work of dressing him, his body may just react.

Bachira pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, scrunching his nose while he works on fastening the buttons of his shirt. “Alright! Now to tuck it in.”

“Ah- I c-can do that!” Isagi quickly drops the rest of the articles of clothing, hoping Bachira will keep his hands away from his crotch area. According to Isagi’s calculations, he’s not exactly hard, but he’s not quite soft either. Bachira tucking his hands into his pants may just bring about irreparable damage.

“Geez, fine.” Bachira holds his hands up, defeated, instead moving to gather the scattered garments on the floor from Isagi’s panicked moment.

Of course, there’s a very real possibility that Bachira knows exactly what he’s doing, that little tease. There’s no way it’s going unnoticed, the slight bulge in Isagi’s pants, the stutter, the redness on his cheeks, Bachira must realize the effect he’s starting to have on his fake boyfriend. But as far as the both of them are concerned, it’s much easier to avoid complicating things any further. They’ve been dealing with enough stress already.

Isagi opts to finish dressing himself, adding his belt and blazer, and finally using his full length mirror to fasten his bow tie.

“This actually looks good.” He says, turning slightly to the side to look at his full outfit, tucking his hands in his pockets like he’s posing.

“Hold on-“ Bachira pulls at the tucked shirt, loosening it just enough to give it more of a casual look. “There we go.” He smiles at his work, clearly proud of himself for the success of Isagi’s outfit.

The silver stripes were definitely a good call, Isagi feels quite dapper as he looks at himself. He’s never been the type to care about his appearance or concern himself with the way he dresses, but maybe he should. Without even putting on his shoes or doing his hair, he already feels the confidence radiating through him.

“That looks so good. The all black fit could be your signature look.” Bachira says it softly, clearly admiring Isagi himself.

Isagi clears his throat. “Thanks.” He replies, redirecting his gaze from the mirror to Bachira, who looks at him with a kind, soft expression. It reminds Isagi of how he looked before he kissed him. Pretty.

If he gets wrapped up in that feeling again, he’s worried about what might happen. He doesn’t want to add that level of complication to their fake relationship, he doesn’t want to go back to a phase of thinking about nothing else besides kissing Bachira Meguru. He’s moved past that part, he can’t let himself jump in again.

But he wants Bachira to be the one to move away, to stop looking at him like he wants to lean in closer. If he backs up, Isagi doesn’t have to worry about doing it himself. At least Bachira would be the one to ruin a potential moment, and Isagi doesn’t have to wonder what it would be like if he just went for it.

Then again, he doesn’t have to wonder, he can just ask. He can just lean in a little more, tilt his head like he did before, press his lips to Bachira’s. He could. He might.

“I gotta help you with your hair.” Bachira says, stepping back and scampering out of Isagi’s closet.

Isagi takes a breath. It’s good. It’s good that Bachira stopped himself, that would have been embarrassing.

“Uh, what are you trying to do to it?” Isagi asks, following Bachira to his bathroom. Isagi’s never thought of his hair as needing much work, it’s just straight. Like him. Nothing needs to be done to it, it can just exist by itself.

“You need to put it back.” Bachira starts rummaging through Isagi’s bathroom. “Wow you really have no products or anything.” He scoffs.

“Um, no.” Isagi leans against his bathroom door. He’s stopped caring too much about Bachira’s tendency to act like Isagi’s stuff is also his stuff. It’s not like Isagi is the epitome of organization, it might be helpful for Bachira to cause some chaos. That way, Isagi can see what stuff he even has.

“Oh, here’s a straight boy gel.” He pulls an old container out of the back of a drawer.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Of course I am. Sit down.” He points to the bed outside the bathroom, sending Isagi to sit with his legs dangling over the edge.

“Are you gonna do my hair like I’m a little girl?” Isagi pretends to be annoyed.

“Nooooo~” Bachira hums, raking his fingers through Isagi’s still-wet hair. “I’m gonna do your hair like you’re my boyfriend.”

Isagi’s lucky that Bachira started the hairdryer immediately after finishing his sentence. Otherwise, he may have heard the loud thump of Isagi’s heart falling into the pit of his stomach.

Isagi doesn’t even know if Bachira has any clue as to what his words tend to do to him. He’d like to think Bachira knows he’s being a bit of a tease, but then again, Bachira is just like that. He might say things like that to anyone and everyone.

Isagi hopes he doesn’t though.

“Done! Okay, have a look.” Bachira turns Isagi around, showing him the look he’s created.

Isagi is honestly stunned, he didn’t know it was possible for him to look like he belongs at an upscale event. His hair is pushed back, with a few of his bangs curled over his forehead to look like he ran his fingers through his hair and let it fall naturally. He looks so professional, especially in his suit.

“Woah.” He says. “You’re a genius.”

“I mean, you gave me something to work with.” Bachira winks playfully.

+++++

The event is for the team’s qualifying placement, marking the end of the tournament series for the regular season. It’s not Isagi’s first time at a team event, but it’s definitely his first time at such an important team event.

It’s held at one of the most upscale hotels in Tokyo, with the ballroom decorated from floor to ceiling in the team’s colors: blue and gold. There are people everywhere, way more than just the team and their plus ones. It’s staff, administration, journalists, anyone with money who was interested in attending.

“Oh, fuck.” Isagi nearly gasps, taken aback by the atmosphere.

“This is insane.” Bachira whispers, following Isagi’s gaze up to the gorgeous chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“Promise me you won’t be getting super drunk again.” Isagi looks toward the bar, noticing that a substantial line has already formed.

Bachira giggles. “I won’t, I promise.” He takes a breath. “As long as you promise not to be super awkward when straight girls ask you questions.”

“What are you talking about?” Isagi brings his attention back to Bachira. That statement makes no sense.

“Ah. So straight girls really like gay guys. Like an unhealthy amount. So just- be prepared to answer some weird questions.” Bachira explains.

“Why would people think it’s okay to ask weird questions?” Isagi scrunches his nose.

Bachira shrugs. “I have no idea.”

“That’s classy.” Isagi breathes out, his gaze finally falling on the familiar face of Itoshi Rin on the opposite end of the room with Oliver Aiku. “Oh, there’s some of the team.”

Despite Isagi’s unease going into the party, it actually turns out to be an enjoyable event. As usual, Bachira can get along with anyone, even though he does technically know some of Isagi’s teammates from back in the Blue Lock days. Everyone loves Bachira, and how could they not? Even when Isagi starts to get tired and feels his social battery wearing thin, Bachira is just getting started, excitedly frolicking to the dance floor to join the much drunker individuals at the party. Isagi watches him walk away, feeling almost like a proud boyfriend, like someone who’s proud to show off somebody like Bachira Meguru.

“You guys are just so cute!” Aiku’s date squeaks, earning an awkward smile from Isagi.

Aiku introduced her earlier, but Isagi already forgets her name. He won’t have to remember anyway, it’s Aiku’s date. She will never be around again. Every single game, every event, pretty much every day, Aiku has a different girl in attendance. There’s no need to let any of them stick in Isagi’s mind.

“Oh, thank you.” He smiles kindly, hoping the conversation ends there.

“He’s still the same as he always was.” Rin sighs. “An annoying little shit.”

Isagi chuckles. He can’t help but look back fondly on his time in Blue Lock with Bachira, listening to his stories about trying to break through to Rin. In all fairness, Rin hasn’t changed much either, still acting like an antisocial angsty teenager any chance he gets. He didn’t bring a plus one tonight either, something that’s common with him. Isagi used to think they were similar, people who didn’t often think about getting into relationships or hooking up with girls. But now- Isagi feels like Rin may just be unlikeable.

“You can’t say that about his boyfriend!” Aiku’s girl shrieks, flirtatiously slapping Rin on the shoulder as if she didn’t meet him two hours ago.

Rin dusts his shoulder off as if the girl’s carrying some sort of disease.

“Nah, they know each other, it’s fine.” Isagi chuckles.

“Rin says whatever he wants anyway, can’t really do anything about that guy’s attitude.” Aiku jokes, snaking his arm around his date’s shoulder.

She giggles in that annoying way girls do, probably because she’s more than a little tipsy at this point. Aiku just has the capacity to pick out the most annoying women.

“Oh, now that he’s gone I’ve just been dying to know,” the girl stumbles forward slightly, like she’s trying to lean into Isagi to be subtle, even though she continues speaking at the exact same volume. “Who tops?”

Isagi nearly chokes, his face turning bright red as he processes the question he was just asked.

“I- Wha-” He stutters.

Rin can’t help but crack a smile, followed by an ever so slight chuckle. “Hey now, you can’t just ask someone that question.” He comes to Isagi’s defense, even though it is pretty funny to watch Isagi suffer.

“Huhhhh?! It’s just a question! It’s hard to tell with those two!”

Isagi feels like his head is spinning. Is it hard to tell? Should that be a compliment? Who would top anyway? Thinking about it more makes him realize he has absolutely no response to that question. He doesn’t even have a quippy remark to change the subject. There is absolutely no way he can act cool.

Bachira was right, straight women ask the weirdest questions.

Aiku laughs. “Come on Mami it’s time to go dance.” He turns the girl around, leading her away from Isagi and Rin. Aiku looks over his shoulder, shrugging to the two of them before continuing his quest to get this girl and her weird fucking questions out of here.

“Was her name Mami, or is that just what Aiku is calling her?” Rin asks.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he forgets her name too.” Isagi chuckles, grasping for his sanity as his heart rate starts to slow down. Maybe he should have been prepared to receive those types of questions.

He follows Aiku and the girl’s path to the dance floor, catching sight of Bachira. He looks like he’s having fun, dancing with a few people Isagi doesn’t recognize. Even from here, his golden eyes sparkle. His hair still looks good despite the few droplets of sweat sliding down the side of his face.

“Isagi.” Rin interrupts.

“Hm.” He answers, but doesn’t look away.

“Bachira’s fine.”

Isagi finally looks away, his cheeks turning a light shade of red as he realizes that he was clearly caught staring. At least Rin knows already, at least he doesn’t have to explain himself. Not that Rin would be interested in giving a fuck.

“Yeah.” He responds.

“Are you sure this is still fake?” Rin asks, sending a shiver down Isagi’s spine.

Isagi sighs. “No.”

5 notes · View notes

bachissidehoe · 1 year ago

Text

gossip

chapter 6 of it's classy, not classic [bachisagi]

Isagi rolls over, his head nearly pounding as the daytime light makes him see spots around his room.

But- it isn’t his bedroom.

It’s his living room. He’s on his couch.

Right.

Isagi slept on the couch last night, and Bachira slept in his-

Bachira.

As the memories of last night start flooding into Isagi’s already hangover-ridden head, he stands, searching for his phone in case anything happened while he slept. Last night, Bachira got super drunk, drunk enough to admit the horrible things that happened to him in his previous relationship. If Isagi ever gets a hold of that guy, he’d-

Well, he’s not quite sure what he’d do. He’d probably just be upset. Plus, Bachira had mentioned before that his ex had reached out after finding out he and Isagi were in a relationship. Isagi can’t help but wonder what that conversation was like. Does Bachira miss him? Is he scared of him?

Those questions will probably never be answered for Isagi. It’s highly unlikely that Bachira remembers his confession last night, so a good friend would keep quiet. Putting him in the position to relive that wouldn’t be a good idea.

Speaking of Bachira, Isagi turns toward his bedroom, figuring he should check on his fake boyfriend. He’s probably way more hungover than Isagi is, he may still be sleeping, even though it’s well past noon now.

He peeks into his room, scanning it for signs of Bachira Meguru. But he only sees some crumpled up sheets and an empty bed. Isagi checks the bathroom as well, but finds no Bachira there either.

He sighs, standing by his window to text him and see where he went. Hopefully he’s okay, maybe he just got up and went home, but still, Isagi can’t help but worry.

“Huh?” Isagi says aloud, hovering over Bachira’s name on his phone while looking down at the sidewalk below, noticing a man awfully similar looking to Bachira standing down there, talking with someone. However, his back is to him, Isagi can only see the face of the other person.

Isagi presses the call button, his eyes still trained on the man below. Sure enough, the man takes his phone out of his pocket.

“Hey Isagi.” Bachira answers, his voice sounding much more cheerful than Isagi expected.

“Hey, are you alright?” Isagi asks, watching Bachira turn around on the sidewalk, his back now facing the man he was talking to.

“Yeah, I’m good. I went home. Sorry, I should have texted you or something.” Bachira lies.

“What? But you-” Isagi starts, confused as to why Bachira would lie to him. He’s standing right there, he could probably make eye contact with Isagi right now if he just looked up.

But then it hits him. Isagi’s eyes widen, looking between the two people below. Bachira, and another man he doesn’t recognize. Isagi can’t quite tell what types of expressions they’re wearing, but from where he stands, he can see the other man standing tall, one hand on his hip. Whereas Bachira stands hunched forward a bit, his head down. He can’t say for sure, but it doesn’t seem like Bachira is enjoying this conversation.

“Bachira. Look up.” Isagi says, lower this time, just in case the other man can hear.

“Yeah. I see you.” Bachira whispers back.

“I’m coming-”

“Don’t. It’s fine.” He chuckles.

Bachira’s tone is much different than Isagi has ever heard before. His voice is nearly shaking. He does not want to be in this situation.

Isagi hangs up, throwing on a pair of shoes and racing out of his apartment. He’s never sprinted down the stairs of his building so fast. What if this guy wants to hurt Bachira? What if he’s in danger? He rounds the corner of the building, bringing Bachira and the other man into view. Their conversation is also clear by now, he can hear almost every word.

“I just miss you, I came all the way here for you-”

“Hiro, I told…dy, it’s not…happening.” Bachira replies, but his back remains toward Isagi, so he can only make out bits and pieces of the sentence.

It’s confirmed now, this smug looking guy is indeed Bachira’s ex, the same one who used to get Bachira drunk night after night for his own personal pleasure. Isagi’s heart is racing, he feels like he could have a panic attack.

“There’s just no way you could have moved on from me that fast, this guy’s just your rebound, come on Ru-” This guy- Hiro- reaches out, making a move for the collar of Bachira’s shirt, the same shirt he was wearing yesterday.

But Isagi gets to him first, grabbing the back of Bachira’s shirt, pulling him backward by the collar, directly into his arms.

The gesture is followed by a silence from everyone involved, including Isagi, who can’t quite explain himself why he would do that.

“I- I don’t think he wants you to touch him.” Isagi tries to sound confident, but it certainly doesn’t come out like that. In fact, it comes out shaky and unsure. Now that he’s in Hiro’s presence, he sure is intimidating. For some reason, Isagi wasn’t expecting Bachira’s ex to look like this, so professional, and not to mention tall and older.

“Yoichi-”

“I was worried about you.” Isagi chuckles, trying to distract from the embarrassing display he just put on. “You let me sleep for too long, come on, let’s go back inside-”

“You’re Isagi Yoichi, huh? I’m a huge fan! So you’re the guy Ru’s dating now?” Hiro smiles. He does have a kind smile, he seems genuine. That’s the dangerous part, surely. Isagi knows better, but if he didn’t, he’d fall for it too.

“Yeah, I am.” Isagi steps slightly more in front of Bachira.

“Mind if I borrow him for a bit? I’m visiting here for the latest show, I wanna catch up. I��ve missed him too, ya know?” Hiro asks kindly.

Isagi feels the heat rising to his cheeks, anger threatening to wash over his body. How dare this guy, how dare he walk up here and want to put Bachira in this position after hurting him so badly.

“You’re asking if you can hang out with my boyfriend?” Isagi smiles through gritted teeth.

“I guess so, if you’re the type of clingy boyfriend who has to give permission.” Hiro chuckles.

Isagi wants to hit this man. In fact, he’s never wanted to hit anyone more than he wants to hit this guy right now. He’d lose, but he still feels his free fist clenching next to him, his other hand still tightly gripping Bachira’s shoulder.

“Plus, I mean come on, I just gotta make sure you’re good for him and all and appreciate him enough.” Hiro continues. His tone is so kind and genuine, but his words are so manipulative.

For the first time perhaps ever, Bachira is rendered completely silent as Isagi stands in front of him. Nobody’s had to protect him before, but now he feels like he needs it. It’s not like Hiro is dangerous or anything. He won’t hit or hurt him physically. But after such a tumultuous relationship, Bachira finally felt like he was free moving to Tokyo- Hiro had agreed to leave him alone. He doesn’t want any of this anymore, he doesn’t want to be tied to someone who doesn’t let him live his life the way he wants. He’s still Bachira Meguru, he needs to express his ego.

“I am the clingy type, actually.” Isagi replies, catching both Bachira and Hiro off guard. “I’m too obsessed with him to let him go wandering around with an ex, sorry about that. You know how it is, gotta watch out for this one, he’s too perfect. I’ve only got so much time until he loses interest in me. So nah, we’re heading out, nice meeting you though.” Isagi quickly turns around, linking his shaky hand with Bachira’s, pulling him back around to the front of the building.

Hiro doesn’t even reply. But then again, Isagi doesn’t give him the time to protest.

“Isagi- what the fuck?” Bachira pulls his hand away as they get back to the front of the building. “I told you not to come down-”

“I’m sorry.” Isagi sighs, holding open the front door of the apartment building for Bachira to enter first. He does, reluctantly. “I saw you looking unlike your normal self, I was worried.”

“How’d you know who that was?”

Isagi pauses. “I just had a feeling.” He clenches his fists, his hands still shaky from the anxiety-inducing interaction.

The two finally make it back up to Isagi’s upper floor apartment, Bachira quickly collapsing on the couch, directly on top of the blanket and pillows Isagi pulled together to sleep with last night.

“You feeling okay?” Isagi asks, realizing that if he has a hangover headache, Bachira’s is surely worse.

“Eh.” He answers, taking a breath. “How much did I tell you, Isagi.” He asks, though he says it more like a statement than a question. Like he’s already figured out exactly why Isagi would react to an appearance from Hiro the way he did.

Once again, as Isagi looks into the concerned golden eyes of Bachira Meguru, he’s faced with the reality that he doesn’t know Bachira at all, but Bachira seems to know him really well.

Isagi can’t really respond, he just looks stunned, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet.

“Come here, come sit.” Bachira pats Isagi’s couch in the spot next to him, almost like he’s about to have “the talk” with a middle school kid.

But Isagi obliges, accepting Bachira’s permission to sit on his own couch.

“I’m sorry I told you some things you probably didn’t want to hear.” He starts, his tone serious and soft, a much different tone than Isagi is used to hearing from him.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s all safe with-”

“I know I know.” Bachira smiles, followed by a sigh. “So, Hiro and I met through my art, he’s a good bit older than I am and is high up in the art industry. He picked me up and is really the reason I got so popular so fast. I was head over heels like right away, which is why our relationship was so well known in that community.” He pauses, looking out the back window, anything to avoid looking directly at Isagi.

“He asked me about some kinks he’s into, like sleeping with me while I’m blacked out and basically non functional. I told him that’s fine, I’m down for anything. So it was something I consented to, but I realized really quickly that me not remembering things that happened was making me feel weird. The problem was that when we would go out and I’d tell him I didn’t wanna get drunk and do this, I would wake up the next morning and find out that we did it all anyway.” He leans back on the couch, taking another deep breath.

All Isagi can do is listen. He’s never seen Bachira seem so emotionally bothered over something before, it’s clear that he doesn’t want people to know about that part of his life, the traumatic part. He’s such a bubbly sunshine of a person with a kind heart and a blazing ego, it hurts Isagi to know that he would let someone else take that over.

“He told me he was sorry and such every time, but would also remind me that I was nothing without him, and I wouldn’t be popular and rich if it weren’t for him, so I stayed in it way too long. When I finally got that offer for the Tokyo tour, I realized that continuing to date him wasn’t actually affecting my career as much as I thought it was. So I ended it. But it was a good few months of all that before I could actually end it.” He finishes his story with a chuckle, trying to make light out of sharing such a serious revelation.

“He wasn’t happy about it, so I guess he showed up today to try to win me back or whatever, he would always tell me I would never find anyone else, so I think he’s confused that I moved on so fast.” He adds, noticing Isagi is just kind of sitting there, not talking. “Obviously I didn’t actually, but you know.”

“Bachi-” Isagi pauses, feeling his body filling with more angry anxiety than he’s felt in a while. It’s not the type of hype nervousness he feels before a game, it’s not the anger he feels when he reads a mean review about his gameplay. This is a different feeling, one that’s making his entire head feel like it’s going to explode. “Meguru. I know we’re not actually dating but I’m still your friend. I’m sorry I roped you into all this when you were in the middle of going through so much already-”

“No, no that’s not what I was trying to do by telling you all this at all-”

“I know I’m making it about me, you’re right.” Isagi chuckles.

“That’s not what I-”

“That guy is bad news, clearly he didn’t love you like you thought he did. You’re a strong person for leaving, and strong for meeting up with him today.”

Bachira just sits silently, staring into Isagi’s eyes with a straight face.

Then suddenly, he bursts out laughing.

“Uh, what?” Isagi asks over Bachira’s little giggles.

“I dunno!” Bachira continues laughing, forcing smiles out of Isagi as well. His laugh is just contagious. “This is just so weird, right?”

“Yeah, it is pretty weird.” Isagi laughs too.

And it’s genuine for both of them. The realization that they’re closer than they thought. That without Isagi’s lie, Bachira wouldn’t be here seeking his support. That good things have come from this. That a dumb fake relationship is way more important to both of them than they thought.

“Regardless of what ends up happening, thanks for being here, Yoichi.” Bachira breathes, this time his smile is real, and happy.

And he can’t help himself, he leans over, letting his head rest comfortably on Isagi’s shoulder. He’s still pretty tired anyway, and trauma dumping can really take a lot out of a person. Isagi’s shoulder is so comfortable and inviting.

Isagi pauses, feeling like a cat just chose to sit on his lap and if he moves too much he’ll ruin it. But he pets him anyway, letting his hand comb through Bachira’s unwashed hair.

“Anytime, Meguru.”

+++++

Yet another big sporting event has been unfortunately overshadowed by Isagi and Bachira’s latest drama, which the paparazzi has decided is related to the encounter with Hiro the other day. Three high profile people with histories having a conversation cannot possibly be taken a normal way by the public, so it was absolutely blown out of proportion.

Hiro has his things to say about it online, which luckily, aren’t painting Bachira or Isagi in a bad light at all, but the man sure does love his drama.

Despite the championship qualifying game being today, the only questions Isagi has gotten from fans and the press has been related to this encounter with Bachira’s ex. Coach Noel Noa instructed Isagi not to say anything, but after being flustered too much by pre-game interviews where he tried for over an hour to dodge these questions, he finally fucked up.

“It’s all fine between Bachira and I, he was surprised to see his ex in Tokyo, and I guess I got a little jealous is all. I’m just focused on the game today and nothing else.”

Isagi thought his statement was clear and in no way misleading, but the questions just kept getting worse after that. The cheers from the fans right now as Isagi takes his position on the field are filled with the joy of the drama, not the joy of the game, which he absolutely hates.

Bachira’s here too, of course, being hounded in the VIP box by other families and friends of the players about the exact same thing. He proudly wears Isagi’s number 11, redirecting every uncomfortable question he can.

Isagi feels bad, honestly. He’s felt bad about everything he’s put Bachira through, even if Bachira insists that it’s helped him escape that shitty relationship he was in. But still, he doesn’t deserve the drama or the obsession with their fake relationship just because it’s taking a different form than is expected from the romantic endeavors of a famous athlete.

In fact, Isagi feels so bad that he can’t do fucking anything in this game. He’s so frustrated, tilted even.

“Get it the fuck together.” Rin rolls his eyes, slapping Isagi hard on the back after he misses another textbook pass from Sae.

“Yeah, we’re done with this bullshit, get your dick out of your boyfriend’s ass for two seconds and focus on the game.” Sae groups up with them in the midfield, scolding Isagi right along with his shitty emo brother.

Isagi can’t even argue with them, he’s rattled.

“Yeah, I gotcha.” He takes a few breaths, trying to put him in the mindset to see the field like he always does. But he just can’t. When he tries to see the paths to the goal, when he tries to create new plays and expand on existing ones, he can only see Bachira’s face, the way he looked when Hiro was talking with him. And he sees the press too, the mean tweets and the articles doing anything they can to get views.

Therefore, Isagi doesn’t, in fact, “gotcha”.

Sae and Rin link up, and for the first time in a while, Rin wins out over Isagi, receiving passes from his brother left and right, leaving Isagi completely in the dark.

“11! Off the field!” Noa sends a sub for Isagi, finally ridding the game of the toxic environment Isagi is bringing. Rin and Sae can hold their own, but it’s certainly disappointing for Isagi to be contributing absolutely nothing to the game. Especially one that seems to be going back and forth between the teams.

He trudges into the locker room, passing Noa, who doesn’t even have to say anything for Isagi to realize why he’s been subbed out. He sucks.

He’ll beg to be let back into the game later, but right now, it’s clear they don’t need him. Maybe it’s all finally gotten to be too much for him. Maybe he can’t actually do this whole fake relationship thing. Maybe he needs therapy, or to be locked up in a mental institution or something. Nothing in his life that isn’t supposed to matter should be causing him this much stress.

Bachira Meguru: i fluster you that much, huh? ;)

A simple text, but one that makes Isagi’s heart lurch. Perhaps he’s having a heart attack.

Isagi Yoichi: Oh shut up

But he doesn’t actually want Bachira to shut up. He reads the text over and over until his vision is blurry. He likes that there’s a little winky face there. He likes that Bachira thought to text him at all after the shitty performance he’s been providing.

Bachira Meguru: get your shit together and get back out there, egoist

He feels like he could cry, but somehow, that’s the pick-me-up he needs to keep going. Bachira is the one that convinces him to press on. The only reason he hasn’t caved and told the truth already is because it’s Bachira he’s fake dating. Without him, there’s no reason to keep up the facade. The other day, Bachira thanked him for being there, and is showing that same support for Isagi now.

He can’t just take this one lying down. The press will be all over this, wondering how his performance can be related to all this drama. He just has to take it, do his best to get over that initial hump of a couple months of people being excited and then it’ll die down. Soccer is still his number 1, and this game is crucial. He needs to get back out there.

Which is exactly what he does. After begging Noa to give him another chance, Isagi then has to beg Sae for another chance. Upon much eye rolling from the Itoshi brothers, Sae agrees to run a play with Isagi.

And it works.

Isagi feels his team piling on top of him, giving him hi-fives and pats on the back for scoring a miracle buzzer-beater goal for the win.

Thanks to Bachira.

Without the quick texts, Isagi would have been defeated. Without Bachira, Isagi wouldn’t have soccer either.

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bachissidehoe · 1 year ago

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chapter 5 of it's classy, not classic [bachisagi]

It’s like his tongue is magic, swishing around in his mouth like it belongs there. There’s nothing more that Isagi could do better, he lays backward, allowing Bachira to take the lead instead. He’s not even surprised about it, he doesn’t feel a singular need to fight it. The feeling of his tongue is enough, their eyelashes fluttering against each other, a few beads of saliva escaping from the corners of Isagi’s mouth.

Bachira hovers over him, barely taking breaths between kisses. Isagi didn’t expect him to be so dominant like this, with Bachira’s knee pressed into his growing erection, as if to taunt him for being so turned on from their heated makeout session.

“Isagi, do you wanna-”

“Mhm.” Isagi whines, meeting Bachira’s golden eyes. He’s not even embarrassed about begging like this, even though he’d expect himself to be within any normal circumstance. Kissing him just feels so good.

“Isagi, hello?”

“Hm?” He mumbles, Bachira’s voice sounding suddenly echoed.

“Isagi? Wake up.”

Isagi feels a hand on his shoulder, lightly shaking him from his dreamy slumber.

“Hmmmm-” Isagi finds himself in his bed, but not with Bachira kissing him. Thank god. Instead, Bachira hovers above him, shaking him awake. “Huh?” Isagi’s eyes suddenly snap open, realizing he’s in his bedroom, and it’s likely already early afternoon. “What are you doing in my house?” He asks groggily, meeting Bachira’s smile from above his bed.

“You gave me a key last week, remember? I think the actual question is why are you still asleep?” Bachira giggles, sitting comfortably on the edge of Isagi’s bed.

Isagi can’t help but blush, recalling the dream he was just woken up from, and the fact that his body still hasn’t recovered from such a sexually charged experience. If he stands up in only his boxers, it’ll be absolutely clear to Bachira too.

“I was up really late?” Isagi replies, pulling his sheets closer to his chin.

His explanation isn’t entirely a lie, but there’s definitely more to it than that. Isagi’s spent the last week since he and Bachira’s little “practice session” reliving it while he tries desperately to fall asleep. That’s why he’s continued to have these dreams. Generally, the cycle goes: Isagi thinks about kissing Bachira- he struggles to fall asleep- he has a dream about Bachira because he’s been thinking about him so much- he wakes up and thinks about the dream- he thinks about kissing Bachira.

“Can I ask you again what you’re doing in my house?”

“We have a date today.” Bachira lays sideways on the opposite end of Isagi’s king sized bed. “I like this bed, it’s comfy.” He rolls around.

Isagi can’t help but grow redder. How can Bachira be so normal about sitting down on Isagi’s bed? How is he casual about everything? Plus, they kissed before. Shouldn’t he be acting a bit more reserved?

“Aren’t we going out much later? Can you get off my bed?”

Bachira sits up, followed by a slight shrug. “Yeah, I was bored though.”

“Alright I’ll get up, but I still have to work out.” Isagi explains, reaching for his phone.

“Sure, I’ll go with you.”

“Fine.” Isagi sighs. It’s not like he minds hanging out with Bachira more, but he can’t help but feel like he shouldn’t. “Now get out of my room, Bachira.”

“Hehehe~” Bachira giggles, standing up and trotting toward the bedroom door as Isagi slowly starts to let the sheets fall down his bare chest. “Oh wait! I was thinking…”

Isagi quickly pulls the sheets back up, almost like Bachira was catching him doing something he shouldn’t be. “What?!” He snaps.

“You should use my first name, hm? We are dating, right, Yoichi?” He smiles with a light tilt of his head.

“Uh, I guess that makes sense.” Isagi nods. Again, he can’t help but feel awkward about it, even though it shouldn’t be weird. They’re more than close enough to be on a first name basis.

“Say it.” Bachira taunts.

“Get. Out.” Isagi says through gritted teeth. He’s not actually angry at Bachira, but he definitely feels some…feelings. Plus, he needs to get ready for his workout, especially since he overslept long enough for Bachira to take it upon himself to walk into his bedroom to wake him up.

So Bachira leaves in a fit of giggles, leaving Isagi alone once again.

He sighs.

It’s not like him to be like this, so insatiable and generally anxious about it. It’s probably been months since Isagi has last relieved himself, it just hasn’t been something he thinks about. He’s much too focused on being the best striker in the world than worrying about these types of lustful desires. There’s usually nothing that even makes him horny enough to think about doing it.

But it’ll be better if he does, surely. That’s probably the reason he’s been so bothered about this shit with Bachira, he’s just too pent up to handle it. After he gets the horniness out of his system, he’ll be able to continue performing in this fake relationship for the public and be fucking normal about it.

He finally steps into his steaming shower, holding his throbbing cock in his hand. Bachira’s right down the hall, it feels wrong. It is wrong. But he needs it, Bachira won’t know anyway.

He leans with his head against the shower wall, the water cascading down his back and dripping down his arms, droplets from his hair blurring his vision as he starts with a few long, smooth strokes. His free arm rests above his head, holding him steady. It feels instantly good- his thumb tracing over the sticky droplets of precum that ooze from his pulsing tip.

HIs strokes are slow, feeling his entire shaft slip between his tight grip. Isagi much prefers to fuck into his fist rather than letting his hand do the work- it feels more natural, perhaps dirtier. And he does just that, thrusting slowly into his clenched fist, followed by a few quicker, harder jerks of his hips. The shower water slides down the wall in front of him, soaking his body as he shields his cock from the rain, masking the heavy breaths and weak gasps that can’t help but escape from his slightly parted lips.

His forehead remains pressed against the tile, watching himself fuck his fist like it disobeyed him. He feels like it’s a trainwreck that’s horrifying but he just can’t look away- the sight of his skin bunching up around his tip on particularly hard thrusts, his shaft twitching as he hurdles closer to his edge, his balls slapping against his thighs. It’s not very pretty, he thinks, but it feels so damn good right now.

And Bachira’s just down the hall.

He can’t help but wonder what would happen if he were to get caught- the thought alone makes him moan just a bit louder. How would Isagi explain that dream he had? How would he explain how damn horny it made him?

“Ah~” He gasps, his breaths caught in the back of his throat as he feels his body going numb, hanging on the edge like falling off would be a sin.

But he falls anyway, letting himself go as his cum shoots out in spurts of white, picked up by the heavy pressure of the shower water. He watches the steaming water guide his cum down the drain, the sinful act washed away with it. The horniness is quickly replaced by shame. It’s unfair, really, that he has to worry about earthly desires at all, but it becomes abundantly clear from how damn good he feels from it.

Maybe now he’ll be able to function like a person.

He sighs, stepping with his dripping body out of the shower and wrapping himself with a towel, hoping drying himself will also dry off the shame. He still has to work out, so if that didn’t do it, a nice cardio session probably will.

“Hey, so why did you shower before working out?” Bachira asks, sitting comfortably on Isagi’s couch.

Isagi shakes his still-wet hair, his joggers hanging comfortably on his hips just below the hem of his plain black t-shirt. “Ah, well just to wake up really. I just took a body shower. Then I’ll take a full shower later before we go out.” He sighs, looking anywhere but Bachira’s piercing golden eyes, hoping that avoiding eye contact will also keep him from blushing.

Bachira giggles. “That’s so weird.”

“You’re so weird.” Isagi mumbles.

“I am not weird!” Bachira stands up. “By the way, can I borrow some workout clothes? I only have these ones.” He shows off his outfit, a nice pair of jeans with a yellow collared shirt underneath a nice gray sweater.

“You really don’t have to come with me.” Isagi practically chokes. Bachira wants to wear his clothes.

“I want to, though.” Bachira tilts his head, reminding Isagi of a little cat.

“I won’t slow down for you.”

“You’re saying you don’t think I can keep up?” Bachira smirks. “I can assure you, I’ll keep up just fine.”

Isagi sighs. “Alright then.”

This is all normal, he remembers plenty of times he’s let a friend borrow a t-shirt and shorts or something. It should feel the exact same as that, he’s hanging out with a friend who needs clothes to work out in, he’s literally done it plenty of times.

“Here.” Isagi returns, holding up a pair of black joggers and a random band tee.

“Thanks!”

Except, it’s not random at all. Isagi spent a good amount of time selecting which pair of joggers he thought would look best on Bachira. This pair of black ones hug Isagi a little tightly, and since Bachira seems a little skinnier than Isagi, he assumes they would fit him really nicely. Sure, letting friends borrow clothes is a normal occurrence in the life of a 22 year old, but considering what would look best on said friends may not be.

“Woah what are you doing-” Isagi gasps, watching Bachira pull his sweater over his head, followed by undoing the buttons on his collared shirt before pulling that off too.

“Um, getting dressed?” Bachira chuckles, undoing his belt buckle and letting his jeans drop to the floor as well.

“You don’t- wanna- go in the bathroom? Or?” Isagi asks in a shaky voice, trying his hardest not to look out of respect.

“What are you talking about?” Bachira laughs. “You’ve literally showered with me before.” He pulls the t-shirt over his head, followed by the joggers, and kindly folds his clothes to leave them on Isagi’s couch for when they return.

“I- uh, yeah, I guess you’re right.” Isagi finds himself blushing once again. It’s true, there’s no reason for guys to avoid changing in front of each other, especially when one of them is straight.

And Bachira was right about being able to keep up with Isagi on his run. Isagi completely underestimated his athleticism since he stopped playing soccer a long time ago, but clearly he’s kept up with his physique. That much was obvious when he took off his shirt though.

“Oo! Can we get smoothies?” Bachira stops suddenly, hardly out of breath as he points to a nearby smoothie shop.

“Are we not going out to dinner later?” Isagi asks, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead. Sometimes hanging out with Bachira is like babysitting a little kid. He stops and squeals at everything.

“Yeah, but it’s just a smoothie! I’ll buy yours!”

“You can just get a smoothie if you want, I’m not your dad.”

“Aw, I thought you were, Daddy.” Bachira smirks.

Isagi nearly chokes, stopping his running in place after hearing the words come out of Bachira’s mouth.

“Fine, we can get smoothies.” He mumbles.

+++++

From watching Bachira running in his clothes, to seeing him come out of the shower with his towel tied around his waist, to watching him brush his messy mop of hair in his mirror, Isagi can confidently say that jerking off in the shower earlier did not help to rid him of those thoughts.

But he’s also realized that spending time running, drinking smoothies, and laughing with Bachira at dinner is completely fine. It’s not like he’s forgotten about the weird feelings, but he’s realized they don’t really matter right now. It’s still simply Bachira Meguru, the same egoist he’s always been.

“How do you still have so much energy?” Isagi asks, his hands stuffed in his khaki pockets as he follows slightly behind Bachira, who nearly skips down the sidewalk toward their final destination of the night.

“Hm? I’m excited! I’m having fun!” Bachira smiles, glancing to his side to catch Isagi in his peripheral vision.

“I just figured you’d be tired by now, or something.” Isagi replies.

“Nope!”

“Uh huh.”

Isagi shakes his head, a slight blush on his cheeks and a light smile across his lips. Their dinner was nice, normal, and Bachira was sweet as usual. Isagi feels like he doesn’t really know that much about the current Bachira, but they still never run out of things to talk about. And to answer Isagi’s question from their conversation a few days ago- Bachira was the one who paid this time, though he made it clear that Isagi should get the next one.

Plus, going on a date seems to have been the right call. Isagi noticed a few people taking pictures of the two of them during dinner, and a few more as they left the restaurant. But for some reason, those observations have been fleeting, a quick spark in Isagi’s mind to be replaced immediately by whatever story Bachira’s telling next. There’s no need to talk about the people taking pictures.

“So here we are!” Bachira leads Isagi to the front doors of a bar.

“Okay…so what is this?” Isagi asks, watching a few people shuffle in as others shuffle out.

“It’s time you get to know the community you’ve so smoothly infiltrated.” Bachira walks toward the door, opening it and kindly holding it open for his fake boyfriend.

“What do you mean-” Isagi follows him inside, his question quickly being answered as he observes the scene in front of him. The bar is very clearly a different bar than Isagi’s ever been to.

It’s a gay bar.

He can’t help but stare at people as Bachira begins weaving through the crowd. Everyone’s having so much fun, much more fun than Isagi’s ever observed at a bar. There’s people dancing, everyone’s smiling, people are saying hi as they pass, and the environment is so colorful.

“Wow.” He whispers, almost losing Bachira as he makes his way to a small opening near the bar.

“Bachira Meguru!” An unfamiliar voice catches the pair’s attention.

“Akari! I had a feeling you guys would be here!” Bachira hugs the man who called for him, beaming from ear to ear. “And Liko! Sakura!” He pulls the other two people into a full group hug between the four of them- only one of which Isagi has ever seen before. “Isagi! These guys are always here! I met them when I first moved here! I wanted you to meet them.”

“Hi, good to meet you.” Isagi smiles kindly, yet nervously. He definitely didn’t expect to meet a group of Bachira’s gay friends. It’s already overwhelming enough to lie to the world about his sexuality, and now he’s having to blend in with the people whose culture he’s appropriating.

“Tonight is my boyfriend’s first time at this sort of establishment,” Bachira covers the side of his mouth with his hand, though whispers loud enough for Isagi to hear anyway. “He’s new to the community.” He giggles. He seems comfortable around these people, perhaps more himself. His smile is so real and excited looking. No wonder he still has so much energy, he feels at home here with his friends.

“I- uh- yeah.”

“Yeah I heard about that! Congrats-” The one called Liko chimes in.

“It’s so cute that you two knew each other so long ago and then start dating when you meet back up.” The other one, Sakura, swoons. “Adorable!”

Isagi is not used to his relationship causing this kind of excitement. He really needs to get used to being around people like this.

“Come on, let’s get some drinks.” Bachira turns around, his back to his friend group and his front only toward Isagi. “Is this okay?” He asks, to Isagi this time.

“Y-yeah! Of course!” He replies, though it’s clear his energy is much lower than Bachira’s. When compared to Bachira, Isagi is definitely the more introverted one. In fact, Isagi is introverted. Maybe not as much as Rin, but he usually doesn’t go out much.

“Look, I promise you’ll like them a lot, okay?” He puts his arm over Isagi’s shoulder, a reassuring smile still present on his slightly reddened face. “You’ll have a good time. Just loosen up, let me buy you a drink.”

Isagi takes a breath. “Okay. Gotcha.” He breathes out with his words. He feels a sense of safety after listening to Bachira, despite the loud, stressful atmosphere.

Soon, Isagi feels the looseness Bachira told him to allow, after sipping on a few drinks, slowly of course. Isagi likes alcohol once in a while, but he’s well aware of his low tolerance. Eventually, he’s comfortable enough with Bachira’s friends to allow him to go dance with Sakura, leaving him with Akari and Liko.

“So, what’s your favorite thing about Bachira?” Akari asks over the music. He’s probably shouting it, since the music is so loud, but Isagi only hears the kindness in his tone. These people really do seem to care.

And maybe it’s the fact that Isagi Yoichi is just a bit tipsy, but he feels like he could tell Akari anything. “It’s his smile.” He answers instantly, taking another small sip of his fruity drink.

Akari and Liko seem excited by that response, so Isagi continues. He probably wouldn’t be able to help it anyway.

“I’ve always liked his smile, since I first knew him. There’s different ways that he smiles, like, sometimes it’s happy and kind and sometimes it has this- this- devilish look to it that just lets me know he’s really plotting something. It’s so cute, it makes his eyes sparkle, and he’s always doing it too, so I can’t stop thinking about it-” The words come tumbling out of his mouth. He thinks he’s speaking pure poetry, but it probably sounds much more slurred.

“That’s adorable, he does have a nice smile.” Liko leans over the table on his elbows.

“How did you guys know him?” Isagi asks.

“He came here almost every night when he first moved here.” Akari says.

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“He was upset about his ex, he would come in here and drink and cry and we finally started recognizing him so we invited him to hang and-” Akari continues.

“Hey-” Liko nudges Akari. “If Isagi doesn’t know about that, Meguru should probably tell him himself, huh?”

Akari sighs. Clearly, he said a little too much. “Anyway, he looks so much happier now. But watch out, he has a tendency to go a little overboard-” Akari laughs.

At once, the three of them turn to the dance floor, spotting Sakura and Bachira dancing together.

At once, they notice that Akari’s most recent statement seems to be applying here.

“Oh no.” Isagi says, feeling himself sobering up immediately.

Bachira stumbles around, clearly wasted, they can notice from the complete opposite end of the bar.

“I, uh, forgot to watch him.” Akari laughs.

“I thought Sakura would.” Liko adds.

“You actually thought she’d watch him?” Akari nudges.

“I’m gonna get him out of here.” Isagi places his empty glass on the bar, quickly weaving his way through the crowd to make it to Bachira.

“Hey!” He yells, grabbing Bachira’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“I was just gonna come get you.” Sakura giggles. Clearly she’s pretty drunk too.

“Come on you two.” Isagi holds both of their shoulders, leading Sakura back to the group. She’s definitely less drunk than Bachira, still coherent, just drunk enough to be having a good time. Bachira, however, is definitely not in great shape.

Isagi should have realized that maybe drinking wouldn’t have been the best idea, especially because Akari mentioned how he would show up here to drink alone a lot. Just like he thought earlier, he doesn’t really know Bachira well at all.

“Thank you guys for tonight, clearly we had a great time.” Isagi chuckles, dropping Sakura off with the group.

“No problem buddy! Make sure he gets back okay!”

“All good!” Isagi gives them a thumbs up, holding Bachira steady as he walks him out of the bar.

Truthfully, Isagi is panicked. He doesn’t have much experience dealing with drunk people. And Bachira too, it’s likely he’s completely blacked out by now.

“We gotta go back to my place.” Isagi sighs, beginning the walk just a few blocks down the road. He doesn’t actually know where Bachira lives, he hasn’t been over. As the two of them make it outside, the only light is the flickering of the streetlights before them, the sidewalk’s nearly fully empty by now.

“A-re *hic* ya- gonna f-fuck me?” Bachira slurs, his golden eyes glazed over with a dark ring of brown, his pupils almost fully dilated.

Isagi nearly chokes. “Am I- no? I’m not gonna-”

“W-why *hic* not?” He hiccups.

“No? I wouldn’t do that. I- you’re completely drunk- and this-” Isagi doesn’t really know how to respond. Clearly Bachira has lost the ability to be reasonable, so Isagi shouldn’t be trying to reason with him. But his request does make him fairly flustered.

“You’re Isagi- hah! Yoichi~” Bachira giggles as Isagi tries to hold him up, slowly walking him down the sidewalk, hoping nobody sees. “Yoichi wouldn’t wanna f- *hic* fuck me sloppy~”

Isagi nearly falls over.

“Come on now, we gotta get you to sleep.”

“Hiro liked *hic* when I would get suuuuuuper drunk~ he’d take *hic* take me out to g-get me drunk so- he could f- *hic* fuck me sloppy.” Bachira giggles. “I didn’t- d- like- it- though.” He struggles through his words, making an attempt to stand up on his own.

For some reason, Isagi holds Bachira tighter, clasping his hand with one of his, his other arm wrapped around him. “That’s not good.”

“Nope! But I wouldn’t be able to say no! I forgot about *hic* when to stop d-drinking!”

Isagi feels like he could cry. He doesn’t know Bachira at all, he’s made no attempt to know who he truly is. He hasn’t had the life of luxury Isagi has been blessed with, he didn’t get to achieve his dream, and his last relationship was clearly abusive, likely in more ways than just the one he’s describing in his drunk state.

It makes him want to punch this Hiro guy in the face. What could he even do? Was he the number one striker in Japan? Of course not. He was doing whatever he wanted with Bachira, who clearly hadn’t been doing very well. Thank god he came to Tokyo, thank god he left that douchebag.

Isagi grips him tighter.

“Meguru.” Isagi says.

“Hmmm~?” Bachira hums as Isagi fishes for his keys, unlocking the door to his apartment and shoving Bachira through the door.

“I dunno, you asked me to use your first name earlier.” Isagi replies.

Bachira giggles, prancing around the open apartment.

“Go lay down.” Isagi helps him over to the couch, only to realize that maybe he shouldn’t just banish his drunk friend on the couch. He sighs, instead leading Bachira to his bedroom. “You can sleep here.” He picks Bachira up, placing him on the bed.

He considers putting him in different clothes, but this’ll just have to do for now.

“Aren’t ya gonna fuck *hic* me?” Bachira asks again, clearly forgetting about their earlier conversation.

“Meguru.” Isagi hovers over the side of the bed as Bachira lays on his side. “I would never do that to you.” He says sternly.

“Hehe~ okay~” Bachira giggles, closing his eyes. He probably didn’t even hear what Isagi said.

“I’m going to bed.” He flicks off the light, wandering out to the couch with a long sigh.

And something in him wishes Bachira would say that sober, so clearly, he needs some sleep.

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bachissidehoe · 1 year ago

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the birds and the bees

chapter 4 of it's classy, not classic [bachisagi]

Sleeping has been practically impossible for Isagi Yoichi over these past few days- he’s been tossing and turning with Rin’s voice repeating over and over in his head like a broken record.

“Be less obvious about how panicked you are from a kiss on the cheek, for one thing.”

His lie has too much attached to it now: his reputation, Bachira’s reputation, the well being of he and his teammates, the possibility of going to the World Cup- there are too many implications for what could happen if he comes clean.

And unfortunately, Rin provided some pretty good advice. Isagi needs to figure out how to be convincing about his relationship with Bachira. Tweets and articles surfaced about his quick little cheek kiss, and many have been pointing out Isagi’s obvious embarrassment.

So, the best thing Isagi can do is make a plan. It’s what he does best, really- taking in all of the information to analyze and make the best possible decision. He has to figure this out, winging it is just no longer an option.

“Hey cutie.” Bachira leans against Isagi’s door frame as he opens it, a sly smile spread across his lips.

It doesn’t help much that Isagi still feels the imprint of Bachira’s little cheek kiss. From three entire days ago. He’s thought more about that little peck over these past few days than the fact that he earned a hat trick in that game.

“Shut up.” Isagi rolls his eyes, letting his fake boyfriend into his apartment.

“Don’t be like that baby boy, I brought you some food.” Bachira continues to tease.

“Don’t call me that.” Isagi sits at the table, beginning to unpack the takeout Bachira so kindly brought over.

“You’re so uptight! It’s all okay, we’re figuring stuff out.” Bachira smiles, resting his hand on Isagi’s shoulder.

Isagi doesn’t know why, but the touch is so comforting to him. It allows him to take a breath and destress. It seems like Bachira doesn’t take anything seriously, but he really does know how to show that he cares.

“Alright. Yeah.” Isagi takes a breath. It’s literally just Bachira, his close friend. He should be comfortable with him by now.

“So, you don’t know anything about relationships, huh?” For a former player known to dance on the field, Bachira certainly doesn’t dance around what hits Isagi right where it hurts.

Isagi dramatically clutches his chest. “Ugh!”

“Sorry.” Bachira chuckles.

“No, you’re right. I don’t know anything about this stuff. I’ve never had an actual relationship.” He sighs.

“It’s fine, you’re super young! It’s normal.”

“Coming from you, the sluttiest slut of all time.” Isagi grins.

“Hey! I’m not a slut! Just a flirt.” He smiles back. “I get mad bitches.”

“Shut all the fuck up.” Isagi rolls his eyes, shaking his head with the same grin on his face. Even if Bachira drives him crazy, he’s still fun to be around. He really missed him, all things considered.

“So what are we exactly planning here?” Bachira finally sits down, diving into a takeout container of dumplings.

“We need to figure out how to be more convincing. I’ve thought up a few things we need to do: number one is posting on social media. Number 2 is going on dates. And Number 3 is-” He gulps. “Physical affection.”

“Your brain works in such mysterious ways.” Bachira stares.

“Coming from you!”

“Hehe, well, it’s just not that deep. Nobody treats relationships like this.” He giggles.

“Well we’re not in a relationship.” Isagi reminds him.

Bachira only shrugs, but Isagi’s own words seem to sting in a weird way. He feels like he shouldn’t have said them, or maybe he should be apologizing to Bachira.

“This is a weird question, but do guys go on dates the same way as straight people?” Isagi asks, uncomfortably tapping his fingers on the table.

Bachira smiles. “Yeah, of course.”

“Okay.” Isagi pauses. “But like, who pays?”

“Either of them?” Bachira cackles, making Isagi turn red. He may as well just be permanently blushing at this point.

Isagi’s so embarrassed he can’t even look his friend in the eyes, he can only keep tapping on the table and looking anywhere besides Bachira.

“So, generally, dating a guy is just like dating anyone else. But I can tell you, the feeling of dating or kissing a guy is way different than a girl. It’s just a way different feeling. I don’t know how else to describe it.” Bachira explains.

“Huh.” Isagi replies. “So kissing a guy is different.”

“It’s still just kissing, but it’s just a different feeling. You don’t have to do anything different though.”

Isagi’s only kissed a handful of girls before, and he can’t say for sure if he even knows how to kiss properly. He’s not experienced at all, it’s kind of embarrassing that Bachira knows what he’s talking about here.

“Hm.” It’s all Isagi can really say. He has no idea how to navigate this situation, what to say next, how to progress. Maybe he really just isn’t cut out for this at all.

Bachira is so casual and normal about everything, he really believes none of this is a big deal. Isagi only wishes he could go with the flow like that. If nothing else, maybe he can learn a lot from his fake boyfriend.

“So you said we should post more on social media? Like some cute pics of us?” Bachira brings the discussion back to Isagi’s plan.

“Yeah, probably. Just so people see that we’re together and stuff. It seems more realistic that way.” He explains, though his tone still sports a hint of embarrassment.

“Sure. And dates?”

“Mhm, like where people can see us and take pictures.”

“Well I like hanging out with you so, sounds fine to me.”

“And you should keep coming to my games.”

“Then you should come to my shows.” Bachira replies.

Isagi pauses. He never even considered that Bachira would need equal support in this relationship. The only thing Isagi really cares about is soccer, so it never dawned on him that he would have to go to art shows as part of this arrangement. It’s not that Isagi minds supporting his friend in his endeavors, it’s more that he can’t comprehend how an individual could spend their time doing anything besides soccer.

“Of course.” He answers.

As if Bachira can read his mind, he responds. “I really miss soccer. It’s all I ever really wanted to do.”

“Yeah, I know.” Isagi reflects back, recalling the day Bachira was injured. “You could have come back.”

“You were all too far ahead of me. The level of play was so high, I would never be able to catch back up.” He pauses. “I know art might be boring to you, but all of my paintings are soccer related, if it helps.”

“Oh, no that’s not what I-”

“I know it’s not, but I also know you better than you realize.” Bachira forces a smile. “If you wanna be convincing and follow your plan, you’re gonna have to suffer through my next show.”

“I won’t suffer, I’m sure you’re amazing at it. You’re good at a lot of things.” Isagi replies. That’s another thing he’s never had to do since he’s never really been in a relationship like this: emotional support. Even though they’re not really dating, Isagi feels like he should at least try to say the right things.

“Yeah, yeah. Wanna play some video games or something? We could take a picture on the couch and post it or something like that.” Bachira suggests, doing his best to go along with Isagi’s plan.

It takes a lot to make Bachira flustered. He’s used to being a tease with a smirk that could send anyone into brainrot, but something about how Isagi is trying with him- he can’t help but feel a light blush creep across his cheeks.

“Here, just- take a picture where I’m not looking but you can tell it’s me. Wait wait wait- I’m gonna take half this blanket so they know we’re sharing it.” Bachira holds a game controller in his hand, helping stage Isagi for a picture. “If I look like I’m playing the game it’s a cute picture.”

“Okay, okay.” Isagi let’s Bachira get in position on the couch as he holds one side of his blanket. It would definitely be a cute picture if it were an actual candid, with Bachira’s golden eyes focused on the TV, looking as cuddly as ever sunk into the couch with a blanket.

“Here.” Isagi snaps the photo, then turns his phone around to show Bachira.

“Cute! My hair kinda looks a mess.” He chuckles. “Maybe you just got done fucking me.”

“Huh!?” Isagi nearly squeaks.

“That could be the case! In the fake story!” Bachira laughs, almost cackling as he falls backward into the soft couch cushions. “Right on this couch, you know?” He continues his laughing fit.

“You’re such a tease, holy fuck.” Isagi rolls his eyes, uploading the picture to his Instagram story. “There, it’s posted.”

“Great, wanna make out?” Bachira laughs.

“You’re such a weirdo.” Isagi says, but he can’t help but look away, the memories of the tiny cheek kiss flooding his head once more.

“I should probably say, I’m sorry for kissing you out of the blue the other day.” Bachira’s tone changes, hoping to direct Isagi’s attention back to him. He means it, too. “I was trying to get you out of that situation, and I didn’t think it would be a big deal to kiss your cheek real quick. I’m sorry it was a lot.” He apologizes, his words genuine and soft.

Maybe this is the relationship experience Isagi has been missing out on. This aspect of communication and talking things through is brand new to him, he’s never really had to answer to anyone besides himself. He hangs out with his team and close family and nobody else really, he hasn’t really wanted to. But now, the concept of communication is suddenly becoming extremely important, and Bachira seems to be really good at it.

“No, no it’s okay. Really. I just don’t have any experience with stuff like that. It threw me, is all.” Isagi replies. What is he supposed to say? That he can’t stop thinking about it? That it replays over and over in his head? That he can’t sleep because it’s burned into his brain?

“You know, people might expect more of that. I’m just saying.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“I mean, people will ask you to kiss me and stuff. It’s just part of being in a relationship that’s in the public eye.” Bachira continues his explanation.

“Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Isagi flushes again, the thought of Bachira continuing to give him surprise kisses may just melt him. “I just don’t have experience with all that.”

Bachira sighs. “Not to sound gay or anything, but maybe we should practice.”

Isagi practically short circuits.

“You’ve never actually kissed a guy and all, so it might be helpful to know what that’s like so it’s less surprising if we have to do it or something.” Bachira rushes through his words, suddenly displaying a nervousness that Isagi didn’t expect. “You know?”

A silence fills the room, the two of them sitting on opposite ends of the couch, looking anywhere in the apartment besides each others’ eyes.

“I, I guess that makes sense.” Isagi finally says. Bachira’s right, if this plan for being convincing is going to work, Isagi has to learn how to kiss a guy without freaking out. Even if he doesn’t like it, the time will come when he’ll have to do it.

“Okay.” Bachira says, turning to look into Isagi’s deep blue eyes. “I’ll just kiss you once on the lips, alright?”

Isagi’s entire body is nearly shaking, he feels like a little kid. Like a middle schooler about to kiss a girl for the first time. He can trust Bachira, that’s his close friend. Plus, Bachira knows how to kiss guys, so Isagi is in good hands- or rather- good lips.

He nods. “Mhm.” He mumbles.

“Close your eyes, don’t worry. It’ll be fine. I’ve been told I’m good at this stuff.” Bachira jokes, crawling to Isagi’s end of the couch.

“Okay.” Isagi whispers, letting his eyes flutter shut as he anticipates his kiss. His breaths are quick and nervous, his heart practically pounding out of his chest.

Bachira leans in, and for a moment Isagi can feel his hot breath close in on his awaiting lips. There’s something about it that’s comforting, warm, calming. And finally, Bachira presses his lips against Isagi’s softly, his plump lips meeting Isagi’s slightly parted ones.

He only holds the kiss for a few seconds at most, but in that time, it’s like an electric shock runs down Isagi’s entire body. This must be where kissing guys is different from kissing girls, that different feeling Bachira was talking about earlier. With even a quick peck, Isagi feels his pants becoming awfully tight. Maybe he really is pent up.

“See? That’s it.” Bachira pulls away, flashing Isagi a quick smile before scooting a bit away from him once again.

A weird part of Isagi wishes he didn’t move so far away.

“Where are you going?” Isagi says aloud, a yearning he didn’t expect present in his whiny voice. “I mean- that’s it? It’s not that bad.” He says quickly, his cheeks burning, his mouth tingling with the sensation of Bachira’s soft lips.

“Yeah, it’s really not a big deal.” He chuckles.

“Shouldn't- I try to kiss you too? Since you were kinda- in charge…you know?” Isagi stutters. There’s no reason to do this again. It’s really just kissing, and he’s 22 years old. He shouldn’t need lessons in kissing. But still, he should at least make sure he knows what he’s doing, just so that the anxious feeling might go away.

“Sure.” Bachira says with a smile, turning his head back toward Isagi, locking eyes with him.

Isagi is nearly taken aback by the expression on Bachira’s face. It’s one he’s never seen him make before. His eyes are darker, not as wide as they normally are. There’s something about the way his mouth moves when he speaks that’s different. His lips are glistening with a light layer of spit he must have licked so his lips weren’t too dry when they kissed. He looks pretty. That’s the only way Isagi can think to describe him. He’s very pretty.

“Alright.” Isagi nods.

He would have expected that his bodily reaction to a kiss from a guy would have put him off to doing it again. He also would have thought that his realization of Bachira being very pretty would have put him off to doing it again.

But no.

In fact, it makes him want to do it again.

Geez, maybe Isagi really does need to get laid one of these days.

But he leans forward, letting his eyes close as he moves, swallowing his pride to let his lips reconnect with the pretty boy on his couch. He tilts his head further to the right, finding himself eager to capture more of Bachira’s lips.

There’s suddenly a hunger, similar to the one he feels when he can smell a goal. The need to make a play, the need to forget all else and reach his fullest potential. He wants more.

“Ah-” Bachira leans back, letting an unintentional noise escape from the surprise of Isagi suddenly pressing a little harder.

Perhaps it’s the tiredness, or the stress, but hearing even a light huff from Bachira sends every ounce of logic flooding out of Isagi’s brain, leaving nothing but an unexpected lust. A desperate need to keep going, to taste him.

Bachira was right, this does feel much different than kissing a girl, Isagi’s never felt more intense than he does right now. Regardless of the reason, Isagi can’t help it, he forces his lips harder, one hand reaching up to hold Bachira’s chin in place. He finds himself clasping Bachira’s bottom lip between his, as if he’s desperate to hold on. He only pulls back for a second before he connects their lips again, his heart beating faster, his breathing getting harder.

Bachira finds himself reaching to clasp Isagi’s shirt, tugging on it a little to pull him closer.

It’s the reality check Isagi needs to remind himself that Bachira’s the one he’s kissing, that this is just practice, that none of this is real. That Isagi is straight.

He pulls back suddenly, out of breath, quickly snapping the thin strand of saliva that still connects their lips.

“I- I think I got it.” Isagi says quickly, shuffling back to his end of the couch.

“Um, yeah. I would say so.” Bachira breathes out, frozen in place.

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bachissidehoe · 1 year ago

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𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆 [𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲!𝗔𝗸𝘂𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗮𝘄𝗮 𝘅 𝗰𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝘆𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗱!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿]

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: 𝗮 𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗰𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿

𝘄.𝗰. 𝟮𝟬𝟲𝟲

Y/n has been told countless times that the longer she resists her heats, the more intense they’ll become. Hybrids are still a fairly new species to enter the living world (they’ve existed of course, but have been hidden from civilization), so there still isn’t enough research to understand how they’re biologically different from humans, and how to treat them.

One of these blatant phenomena that are not well understood are, in fact, their heats. The only thing y/n can do since she started getting them is listen to the advice of other hybrids- no medications, no treatments, the only options she has are to find someone to help her take care of it, or to tough it out. For years, her choice had been to tough it out.

After all, what else is she supposed to do? Though hybrids have joined civilization, they aren’t exactly well understood or accepted. Plus, only female hybrids exist, so it’s not like y/n can proposition a male of her kind to help her relieve some of these symptoms.

And fuck, the symptoms. Instability, heavy breathing, the throbbing in her thighs and lower region, constant arousal, headaches, trouble eating and sleeping- the list goes on. With every heat, it’s gotten more intense, demanding of her attention, and much longer. At first, it would only be bad for a couple of hours, but now, it’s been days of suffering. Closing in on a week. It’s getting more and more impossible to wait it out in her room alone. Nothing helps, nothing even provides a few minutes of relief anymore.

Which is where she finds herself now, mindlessly wandering through back alleys in the pouring rain, hoping that some form of fresh air, a sensation that isn’t just an overwhelming desire to be bred, will be enough to convince her body that it’s done with this and just give up.

But then what? What about next time it happens?

“Ughhhh…” she sighs, groaning at the muddy path as she shakily walks. Her long, usually fluffy cat tail hangs between her legs, soaking wet. In fact, her entire body is soaked from ear to toe, almost matching the way her panties have felt all week.

Her catlike reflexes are slowed, so slowed that she can’t even react in time when she feels the presence of another person creeping closer to her. Her soppy cat ears twitch, but she can’t react at all, only turning her head in time to see a pair of glowing red eyes charging toward her, forcing her into the back of a building at top speed.

She can’t fight, not in this state. She can only mewl and whine, taking in the choppy, blurry scene of a figure- a man- towering over her, forcing her head to the side as he holds her frail body against the brick wall, his sharp fangs jutting out from his open mouth.

Actually, this isn’t a man at all. This is a vampire.

In that moment, y/n ponders the idea that it won’t be so bad to die, as long as he kills her instead of turning her into a vampire herself. Who knows if she’ll still be in heat as a vampire, she’d rather die than continue to experience this.

But in the immediate next moment, she feels just a slight touch from the prominent bulge in the vampire’s pants pressed against her body, enough to send a shiver down her spine. That sensation is enough for her brain to conjure up a different perspective. She needs it. More than life, more than death.

“Wait! Vampire-“ she whines, making a brief attempt to struggle as she sees his sharp teeth closing in on her. It’s dark out, but those eyes of his nearly blind her. “Please- I can offer you my blood, don’t kill me!” She rushes through the words, hoping it gives her enough time.

To her surprise, the vampire pulls his head back, but doesn’t release his grip on her. His legs still hold her in place, which means that bulge in his crotch does too.

She gulps. “I can give you my blood- whenever you want!”

It’s well known that vampires struggle to keep a healthy supply of blood, forcing them to often kill for it instead. Some vampires hire blood donors, but human donors tend not to be able to keep up with the demands, meaning they often end up dying as well. Hybrids, however, don’t have that problem, as they’re often much stronger and capable than humans. To vampires, hybrid blood is the most valuable.

“I just ask- that you don’t kill me. Please, fuck me instead and you can drink from me whenever you want!” She whines.

The vampire pauses. “What.” He says, his glowing eyes fading into a gray color, his fangs disappearing back into his mouth.

Apparently, her request was shocking enough that the vampire lost his hostility.

“I’ll live with you, I’ll, mmmh~” she moans, his body against hers still causing her heat symptoms to reach overdrive. “I just need it so bad, please.” She begs.

“Oh. I see.” The vampire holds his position. “You’re a hybrid. What a good find.”

Vampires and hybrids don’t often encounter each other, especially since vampires operate at night, while hybrids operate during the day. It’s quite rare for a hybrid like y/n to be exploring the dangerous city streets at night.

“Please, fuck me, and I’ll let you drink however-“

“Shh.” The vampire places a finger over her mouth. Another shock wave radiates through her body. “You know how loud you’re being?” He scolds her.

Now that her cat eyes have adjusted to the darkness, she can fully process that this vampire- is gorgeous. A young man with long black hair, silver at the ends, wearing a long black trench coat. And his body, his hands- she can’t help but writhe against him, her hips jutting into him on their own.

“I need~” She whines, quieter this time, pathetically pleading with him to at least consider her proposition.

“Come with me.” He turns around, completely releasing contact, much to y/n’s dismay. And he starts walking away, his hands behind his back.

She stands, confused.

“I said, follow me.” He says again, more sternly this time.

“O-okay.” She obeys, shakily walking behind him like a prisoner, her legs trodding through the mud even though at this point it’s hard for her to walk at all.

She follows him to a mansion, her entire body trembling and shaking the entire walk there. All the while, she missed his touch. The only thing she could think about was how beautiful he is, how badly she wants him to touch her again.

“You are in heat so bad I’m surprised I couldn’t smell it over the rain. No wonder I subconsciously ended up in that very spot.” He speaks, leading her into a large bedroom. But he sounds like he’s just talking to himself.

“Thank you for not killing me, um, sir-“

“It’s Akutagawa.”

“Akutagawa.” She repeats, her soaking wet clothes still sloshing as she rocks back and forth. It’s enough for her tired body to even stand at this point.

“Now, you needed something from me?” He asks stepping toward her again.

His voice sounds angry, perhaps he brought her here to kill her after all.

“Um…”

“Something about me taking your blood as long as I- hm what was it?”

Y/n swears she can see the beginnings of a smirk on his lips.

“Fuck me.” She says.

“Oh, right, that was it.” He lunges forward, using his speed to push her into the bed before she even realizes. And in seconds, her wet clothes are discarded off to the side. “You’re actually a pretty kitty.” He says, sliding her panties down her thighs.

“Please~” She whines again. She can feel the juices coating her thighs, the cool air of the room making it even more obvious to her how badly she needs him.

“Needy kitty.” He slides a pale finger between her thighs, swiping through the wetness.

“Ah~!” She yelps, her body writhing from only a touch.

He stands back up, leaving her whining and pleading with a flush across her cheeks.

“Win-win for me. I’ll accept your proposition.” He sounds like he’s annoyed about it, like it’s such a hassle for him. But he undresses anyway, peeling his wet clothes off his body to reveal his gorgeous figure- and his hard, thick cock.

No wonder y/n could feel his soft bulge so prominently against that wall. She gulps.

Before she can process it, Akutagawa lurches forward, easily handling her weak body like she’s just a doll. She may as well be- she would be for him.

“That’s it, you’ll sit right here.” He coaxes her onto his needy cock, her back pressed against his pale chest.

She can’t help but moan aloud, nearly screaming from the relief washing over her.

“Quiet, cat.” He wraps his arm around her, covering her mouth with his hand, forcing her to mumble to herself as she slides down onto his thick shaft.

Her eyes roll back into her head, her breaths choppy as she chokes on her own moans. It’s like her body was created for this vampire, the way she molds her walls to the shape of his cock.

He uses his forceful hand over her mouth to tilt her head to the side, unapologetically plunging his fangs deep into her neck.

She whines, it hurts. But it hurts good.

Blood trickles down her shoulder and chest as he drinks his fill, letting her rock her hips into his twitching cock. Her ears remain limp against her hair, her soft tail resting against his chest as if she can trust him. But it’s too good, he’s filling her and taking from her at the same time.

Her mind goes blank as her vision gets blurry, light spots cascading through her sight as she holds onto consciousness. She can hear him sucking her neck, the gory sounds of her blood squishing, the beautiful noises of him swallowing gulp after gulp, his hot breath tickling her open wounds.

“Ah, mmmh~ !” She’s suddenly overcome with a different kind of pleasure the aphrodisiac of his teeth plunged through her skin finally overwhelming her senses. Her soaking pussy squeezes around him, flooding his shaft with her fluids as she cums, hard.

Her writhing causes him to cut her deeper, his teeth sliding through her skin, her blood splattering onto the sheets.

She shakes, her body unable to stay upright as the blood continues to spill, almost too much for her to remain conscious.

He finally releases his teeth, removing his hand from her mouth to place both on her hips. Blood covers his face and chin, but he peppers light kisses on her back anyway, leaving bloody little lip marks all over her.

“Gonna~” He grunts, sliding her barely conscious body up and down his twitching shaft. “Feel so much better…” He moans, her blood in his system making him even more powerful.

He can fuck her even harder now that he’s had his fill, bouncing her with a speed that may split her body in two.

She lets out repeated gasps, her eyes blurred with tears as she continues to fight for consciousness. She can only mewl and whine incoherent cat noises while he relentlessly pounds into her.

“Fuck-“ He spits, suddenly filling her tight little hole with a thick load of his white hot cum.

She feels instant relief, the feeling of being so full sending her hurdling toward a second orgasm herself, the feeling taking over her entire body.

And everything goes dark.

+++++

“Cat. You’re awake.” Akutagawa finally rips her out of her unconscious state. “Good. Thought I killed you.”

She blinks a few times, noticing she’s still on that same bed, lying comfortably on her back with a clean blanket over her still naked body.

“I cleaned you up. But you lost a lot of blood, so we’ll have to work on that.” He hovers over her, a few specs of blood still seen decorating the corners of his lips.

She grumbles. She feels so much better. “I can stay?” She rasps.

He nods. “Don’t get upset if I accidentally kill you.”

That statement should terrify her, but instead, her heart lurches with excitement.

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bachissidehoe · 1 year ago

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chapter 3 of it's classy, not classic [bachisagi]

It’s been a long time since Isagi Yoichi has really taken in the scent of the turf or acknowledged the blueness of the sky on a game day. He truly believed he would never forget about what it took to climb to the top, but some days the fame and money get to him enough that he forgets to stop and reflect on what made him fall in love with the game in the first place. And it’s this- the smell of the turf, the blue sky, the cheers that all blend together into the perfect harmony. He should make sure he remembers that.

And the announcer calls his name, followed by screams and cheers of people he knows have never attended a professional soccer game before. That’s what makes this game different, the world is obsessed with it on a brand new level. Isagi never thought he could change the world, nor did he want to, but it seems like his lie has sparked new life into two communities that otherwise didn’t often overlap. And it’s all because of a mistake, a mistake that turned into him involving Bachira Meguru.

Isagi doesn’t think Bachira deserves it, but the eccentric ex-striker is here today, wearing Isagi’s number 11 on the sidelines, just like a boyfriend would.

And when Isagi flashes him a light smile and a quick wave, the crowd explodes with cheering and joy. The world has become obsessed with the relationship between old Blue Lock friends, who, due to Isagi’s honest mistake, are now thought to be dating.

The meditation Isagi completed before coming onto the field was supposed to allow him to focus on the sights and sounds of the game without becoming too stressed about the fake relationship he’s gotten himself into. But as soon as Bachira smiles back, it’s like all his preparation goes right down the drain. Isagi told himself to ignore Bachira, but his eyes wandered on their own, looking for those blonde highlights without him even realizing. So now, that Bachira waved right back at him, he’s stressed again.

Deep breath.

Another deep breath.

He makes his way to the center of the field, meeting up with his allies and opponents.

“You already look like a loser and the game hasn’t started yet.”

“Thanks Rin, I can always count on you to get me pumped up.” Isagi replies, refusing to look the emo boy in the eye. Regardless of the two of them fighting on the same team, neither of their egos have been lost since Blue Lock. They still compete with each other in the same way they did as kids.

“If either of you fuck up I’ll score myself.” Another voice enters the conversation, the absolute sunshine of a midfielder, Itoshi Sae. A gorgeous auburn haired genius, and Rin’s older brother (who he just adores).

The three of them are the key to the team’s success, a combination that has been dubbed The Holy Trinity by fans. All three of them are exceptional scorers who constantly compete with each other for the ball, it makes them somehow extremely compatible. All of them have a strong distaste for each other, yet an equally as strong respect, one that keeps them grounded.

“You have to wait for us to fuck up first? I’d do it myself regardless.” Rin scoffs.

“Well, well, well!” The opposing team finally reaches the midfield, bringing Isagi face-to-face with some more former Blue Lock friends.

“Good to see you, Reo. Nagi, too.” Isagi holds out his hand for Reo to shake. They’re all team captains, after all, this is protocol.

“Sup, Isagi.” Nagi nods toward him. As nonchalant as ever, and still the messiest snowy hair. For all that Reo has always done to take care of Nagi, Isagi always wondered how Nagi’s hair still always ends up such a mess.

“Rin, Sae.” Reo shakes their hands too. “Quite a crowd today, you’d think Bachisagi is getting married or something.” Reo chuckles.

Isagi knew this would happen. He was honestly surprised Aiku didn’t make fun of him first. But the dig still pisses him off.

“What did you call them? Bachisagi? That’s actually funny.” Rin can’t help but let a light snicker slip out.

“Oh come on, you’re just jealous you two weren’t the couple to cause this much hype.” Isagi fires back. “Always thought it would be you, considering how obsessed you’ve always been with your “treasure””.

Reo playfully rolls his eyes, but anyone with a working set of their own would be able to see a flush across his cheeks. He’s so easily flustered, but only ever when it comes to Nagi.

“That’s funny Isagi.” Nagi acknowledges. But beyond his words, not a soul would be able to tell how he’s really feeling about it.

Isagi remembers first encountering Nagi Seishiro- despite being a lazy bum he can get extremely passionate. He can only imagine how Nagi would act if he and Reo were dating. He’d probably be more dominant than expected, which sounds kind of interesting considering Reo can be so arrogant someti-

Isagi shakes the thoughts from his head. There’s absolutely no reason for him to be thinking about guys dating at a time like this.

“You guys are a piece of work.” Sae mumbles.

“Thanks, Itoshi Sae.” Reo winks, flashing a peace sign before turning around, taking up his starting position.

And just like that, after a bit of trash talk, the game begins.

It’s unlike Isagi to be nervous before a game. He hasn’t felt that way in years, so he can’t quite recall what it feels like. Perhaps this feeling isn’t nervousness, but maybe stress instead. And it has nothing to do with the task at hand, which is to score goals and win the game. Soccer has this tendency to make Isagi forget about the rest of the world, so it doesn’t take much for him to reach his flow state.

Goal.

That’s the first score. And with a pump of his fist and a quick glance to a wide-eyed Bachira, Isagi is ready for another.

Goal.

A second score, and another glance to Bachira. Rin’s annoyed that Sae keeps choosing to pass to the opposite side, and that only makes Isagi more excited.

Goal.

A hat trick. His fourth ever hat trick in a division game. And of course- another quick side-eyed glance to Bachira Meguru. He doesn’t even know why he’s doing it, but it feels right to make sure he’s still watching.

Ow.

That actually hurt. Getting kicked or thrown or shoved is definitely common in this sport, but it isn’t often that something actually makes Isagi hobble around for a second. He wasn’t even focusing, but someone must have kicked him in the shin.

The whistle blows, and Noa calls for Isagi to come off the field if he can walk. Of course he can walk, why is anyone even considering subbing him out? He’s fine.

“I’m fine!” He calls back, shaking his ankle a few times.

“Nope, get your ass off the field!” Noa calls for him again, the referee helping to escort Isagi to the sidelines.

“What the fuck coach?” He protests, making his way off the field as his team organizes a new formation.

“Protocol, you gotta come off for a few to get checked out.” Noa explains, waving him off to the medical team.

Isagi sighs. It’s probably the right choice. Of course he’s fine, but it did hurt for a minute there. Enough for Noa to notice, unfortunately.

He watches the livestream of the game from the medical office, shaking his head in disappointment as the Reo x Nagi duo comes back with two goals of their own. He needs to get back out there.

“You’ll be fine but you’ll need to sit for the rest of the game. It’ll bruise but you should be set for practice on Monday.” The nurse explains.

Isagi huffs. “I can’t play anymore today?” He already knows the answer, but he figures maybe if he asks one more time the nurse will change his mind.

“Nope, sorry Isagi.”

So he’s forced to watch the rest of the game from the sidelines, his legs practically itching with jealousy for the players who are allowed to play the remaining quarter of the game. Sure, he’s fine and will be back on Monday, but missing any aspect of an important game makes Isagi feel like his heart is being ripped from his chest. Who is Bachira supposed to watch now?

Goal.

This time from Rin, a goal that Isagi can’t help but roll his eyes at. Even in Isagi’s hat trick game he can’t help but feel a slight pang of annoyance when anyone else scores a goal besides him. But the game ends shortly after that, with a final score of 4-2.

“Isagi! Isagi Yoichi!”

“Isagi!”

“Number one! Over here!”

“Yoichi-sama!”

The sounds of reporters begging for Isagi’s attention. He scored a hat trick and then was suddenly removed from the game, it’s only natural that reporters would be looking to interview him.

“Isagiiiiiii!”

Now that voice is much more familiar. Isagi can hardly react to the excited screeching before he notices some blonde highlights breaking through the crowd, nearly colliding with his fake boyfriend.

“Bachira, oh my god dude.” Isagi chuckles, stopping the ball of energy with his hands straight out before he can knock him over.

“You did great! Hat trick! Are you okay? Your leg or something?” Bachira floods him with questions, all while cameras flash and reporters continue to beg for Isagi’s attention. Now that Bachira’s here, they must be so excited to see the two of them together. This will make for some great engagement for sure.

“Isagi! Over here!” Reporters continue to barrage him.

Isagi can’t answer anyone, not even Bachira. He thought he was used to the attention, but under the stress of having to maintain his fake relationship, he’s not so sure he can handle it.

“You should answer one of them.” Bachira leans a bit closer, lowering his voice to a much calmer tone than he normally uses. “It’ll be fine, you gotta talk about how great you did.”

Isagi takes a breath, finding himself calmed by Bachira’s words. He certainly didn’t expect the emotional support from such an individualistic egoist.

“Hi! Yeah it was a great game today. Glad we could pull out the win.” Isagi smiles toward the first reporter he makes eye contact with, letting the cameras flash as Bachira swiftly moves to the side.

“What happened? Why were you subbed out?” The reporter asks.

“Ah, no big deal, just twisted my ankle a bit. The nurse told me I’m all set for next practice. Plus, I can walk on it just fine.” He smiles, maintaining the interview persona he’s learned. Even after so many of these interviews, he still finds himself struggling to navigate.

“That’s great to hear! And we’ve noticed your new boyfriend is here too, Bachira Meguru! How long have you two been together?”

Isagi glances to Bachira, a look of slight panic washing over his face. “Um, not too long, only been official for about a month or so-” He answers, lying through his teeth. To Isagi, it just seemed like saying a month was the safest bet.

Bachira notices his panic, deciding to slide just a little closer to his “boyfriend”. For someone who has always struggled with other people, Bachira can’t help but have just a bit of empathy for those he really cares about. Ever since he and Isagi first met, Isagi has been one of those people. Bachira doesn’t care too much about lying to the public, but he feels bad that Isagi has been forced into this position.

Bachira’s starting to realize that this lie is a lot more uncomfortable for Isagi than it is for him, considering Isagi is straight. Bachira doesn’t mind flirting with anyone even if it’s fake, but he can only imagine that it must be difficult for Isagi to pretend like he’s into a guy. That kind of makes him feel weirdly bummed, in a way.

“So many fans are very happy for the two of you! How about a quick kiss for the camera?” The reporter continues.

Isagi immediately flushes, panicking more than he already was. He can’t just kiss Bachira, he’s never even kissed a guy. But this could mean the end of their little white lie, this could mean a negative perception of Isagi forever. He feels his heart rate increasing, he may actually pass out.

“Oh stop it,” Bachira chimes in, his tone light and joking. “You guys don’t even know how private Isagi is about his relationships!” He exclaims, lightly nudging Isagi.

Isagi breathes a sigh of relief, trying his best to make it sound like a chuckle.

“We gotta go, so you can get just a sneak peak, alright?” Bachira giggles a demonic giggle, before leaning slightly up to peck Isagi’s cheek.

Isagi certainly didn’t expect it, his hand flying up to touch the spot Bachira kissed, his face burning red instantly. It was soft and quick, barely anything. He’s had plenty of people kiss him on the cheek, like his parents for example, but this felt nothing like that. Somehow, even though it was a simple peck, it sends his brain into a swirling frenzy- not a single thought can be formed.

“See you guys later, hehe!” Bachira giggles, linking his arm with Isagi’s and leading the two of them off the field.

It’s like Isagi can feel the place Bachira kissed him, it’s burning a hole in his cheek. Maybe it’s because it hasn’t been kissed in so long, maybe he didn’t realize just how much he’s been missing physical affection, or maybe it just surprised him. For some reason, Isagi never expected that an interviewer or reporter would actually ask him to kiss his boyfriend publicly, but reflecting back, it does make sense.

“Hey, you alright?” Bachira leads him into the tunnel, walking him toward his team's locker room.

“Yeah, wait-” Isagi stops his flustered saunter. “Why are you in here?”

“Oh, right, I just assumed I should get you out of there.” Bachira also stops.

He’s definitely not on the team, so he absolutely shouldn’t be walking to the locker room with Isagi. But, considering they’re dating, Isagi assumes it must make sense for security to let him walk around in here. It’s just Bachira, what harm could he possibly cause?

“Yeah, true. Thanks.” He mumbles.

“You look sweatier than you did on the field.” Bachira chuckles.

“I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” He keeps his voice low, maintaining his intense eye contact with the floor as he picks up his pace.

“Looks like somebody’s flustered.” Bachira sings, drawing out his words to taunt Isagi.

“Stop it.” Isagi groans. “Quit being like that.”

“Like whaaatttttt?” He giggles. “To hot for you to handle?”

“You’re such a flirt.” Isagi walks faster, nearing the locker room that likely houses the rest of his team. “Can you wait here for me? Have to shower and stuff.”

“So we can leave together?” Bachira continues his teasing.

“Oh my god-”

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughs.

“We should probably leave together, right? People will still be out getting pictures and stuff.” Isagi explains his thought process. He doesn’t want Bachira thinking he actually wants to spend all this time with him.

“Yeah, yeah. Makes sense.”

And with that, Isagi enters the locker room, saying good games to his team members and hopping in the showers. He should really wash off that kiss, but no matter how hard he scrubs the cheek, it’s like he can still feel Bachira’s lips there. His body has memorized the shape like it’s a cement mold, and now it’s locked in there forever. Isagi must be crazy, or seriously pent up.

“Yo, Isagi.” Rin calls, entering the showers as Isagi wraps a towel around his waist.

“You used my actual name!” Isagi replies sarcastically. That’s often how their conversations go, pissing each other off and shit talking to the point where Isagi wonders if Rin may just murder him someday. Yet, he still considers Rin a teammate and a friend, in a weird fucked up way.

“You and Bachira aren’t dating.” Rin makes his observation by assuming he’s already correct.

Isagi scoffs. “What are you talking about?” He deflects, though his shaky voice isn’t quite convincing enough. Isagi’s not one to lie, so this entire ordeal is really hard on his mental energy.

“Come on.”

Isagi sighs. There’s not really a way to get past this, he fears. Rin is too scary. “Can you please not like, spread that theory around?”

“I don’t plan to, I just want to hear you say I’m right.”

“What made you think that?”

“Because I know you.” Rin says flatly.

That’s the only sentence it takes to convince Isagi to spill the full story. It feels good for him to be honest about it with someone who isn’t directly involved.

“So you’re keeping this up for how long?”

“Until he moves back home.” Isagi answers.

“Ah.” Rin nods. “You should play it up more.”

Isagi pauses. “Huh?”

“Play it up, like be more dramatic about it. Our viewership was at an all time high today. And this is the first time our seats have completely sold out in years.” Rin explains.

“Since when do you care about viewership?”

“Since our lack of funding puts us in danger of not being able to pay for both the world cup expenses and pay for the players’ salaries.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Noa.” Rin shrugs. “I don’t give a fuck about money, but I give a fuck about playing.”

“Yeah, wow. I didn’t even think about how people just haven’t been enjoying soccer as much anymore.”

“So you should get more excited about your little boyfriend, because it brings people here.”

“What do you suggest I do?” Isagi pulls on his shorts and t-shirt, taking a seat on the shower bench.

“Be less obvious about how panicked you are from a kiss on the cheek, for one thing.” Rin scoffs.

“Tch. Whatever.” Isagi doesn’t really have a counter to what Rin’s saying. Not only is Isagi bringing forward a huge first for the community, he’s also bringing more viewers and potentially changing the future for his entire team. This entire lie affects so many more people than he thought.

“It does make sense that you like guys though, all things considered.” Rin continues.

“What? I don’t. I’m straight.”

“Oh, hah.” Rin lets out a light chuckle. “The way your face looked when he kissed your cheek says otherwise.”

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