#Reo

[kymerauwu]

"Wrong generation"? Babe we’re literally in the same timeline where this is an official promotional artwork for Barou's maid café.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° guess second best is all i will know

( reo mikage x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — really wanted to write for reo again so enjoy!

♡ word count — 2.7k

♡ content — reo mikage x fem! reader, arranged marriage, loveless marriage, angst, kind of fluff towards the end, reader is a rich heiress, secret letters, switch of pov ( once it goes to reo's pov ), miscommunication, not proofread!

♡ synopsis — Being given away at your wedding was supposed to be joyous, something every little girl wished for at least once. But how were you supposed to be excited when Reo Mikage couldn't even write his own vows?

You didn't expect love.

Not when the marriage contract was signed before either of you had a chance to say no.

But you had hoped for kindness.

Maybe something gentle in the spaces between you. Maybe a hand held during dinner. Maybe someone who looked at you like they saw more than your family name.

But Reo Mikage never looked at you. Not really.

Not when you met him for the first time—his phone lighting up every thirty seconds, a small laugh under his breath as his thumbs flew across the screen. 

He’d nodded when you introduced yourself. Smiled, even. Said something like, “Nice to meet you,” with perfect manners and perfect teeth.

But his eyes were somewhere else.

You remember your father asking you afterward what you thought of him.

And you said, “He’s nice.”

Because it was easier than saying, “He didn’t really talk to me.”

On your wedding day, the gown fit perfectly.

It was made for you. Custom-stitched to flatter and shine.

Too bad it wasn’t meant to be admired by your husband.

You stood before hundreds of guests, a vision in silk and diamonds. He looked at you like you were a stranger.

He read his vows off a notecard.

Not his handwriting.

One of his father’s assistants had written it, because Reo had been “too busy.”

Training, press, a last-minute flight to Barcelona. You’d heard every excuse in the book.

You said “I do” anyway.

Because it was already done.

That night, when the guests were gone and the champagne had dried to sticky rings on glass tables, Reo leaned against the black car outside the venue and said,

“You can go back to your apartment. I won’t be offended.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I just figured you wouldn’t want to spend the night with someone you barely know,” he said, tone so casual it made your stomach twist. “And I’ve got practice early tomorrow, so…”

You nodded. What else was there to do?

So you went home.

You sat on your couch in a gown that took four months to design.

In shoes that made your ankles ache.

Mascara clinging to your lashes as the weight of it all finally cracked your spine.

And you cried.

Not the loud kind. The kind that sits behind your teeth, swallowing itself, curling in the pit of your stomach until it becomes something quiet and unbearable.

You didn’t see Reo again for a few days.

But your things arrived at his house. Not because he helped you move.

He’d hired a moving company. “The best and the fastest,” they’d said proudly at the door.

How kind.

The house was beautiful. Cold. Quiet.

Your name wasn’t anywhere on the mailbox, but it was in the contract.

You cooked that night. It was something stupidly domestic—a way to feel like maybe, maybe this could be something human if you just tried hard enough.

He walked in at 7:46PM.

Phone glued to his ear. “Yeah, no, I told him that—mm. Yeah. Nagi, you’re not listening—bro, listen—”

He breezed past you in his hoodie and soccer bag, smelling like turf and cologne, like a life you weren’t invited into.

Still, you tried.

You waited until he hung up.

You smiled. Weak, but there.

“I made dinner,” you said softly. “And, um… how was practice?”

He looked up like he forgot you were there. Eyes blank, like you’d grown another head.

“Fine,” he said. “I’m gonna eat in my office. Thanks.”

He took the plate.

He walked away.

And you sat back down at the table you’d set for two, with candles flickering, wine starting to taste like metal on your tongue.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

You’d been alone your whole life. Raised by nannies who barely knew your middle name, in houses too big and too quiet.

You could survive this.

But you hadn’t wanted to survive your marriage.

You’d wanted to live in it. Grow into it.

Find something of your own in this world where everything had always been chosen for you.

Now, your name was on a ring. A contract. A marriage certificate.

But you weren’t sure if it was on his mind at all.

And maybe it was stupid. But part of you still wished he would look at you. Just once. Not like a stranger.

Not like a burden.

Just… like someone he might’ve chosen, if the world had let him choose at all.

You lost track of how many dinners you spent alone.

The days bled into one another—quiet mornings in a home that wasn’t yours, not really, and late nights where the only conversation was the low hum of Reo’s voice through the walls as he talked to someone who wasn’t you.

Always someone who wasn’t you.

Sometimes it was Nagi, like always.

Sometimes it was a teammate.

Sometimes you didn’t know.

You never asked.

You told yourself it was better this way. 

You wouldn’t fall apart over a man who’d never even taken off his shoes at the door you both supposedly shared. 

You wouldn’t crumble just because he didn’t notice the new books you lined on the empty shelves, or the way you started sleeping on the far edge of the bed—just in case he ever came to find you.

He didn’t.

Your presence was an afterthought in the story of his life.

Reo’s house was made of clean lines and expensive taste.

You decorated one room. Just one. 

A sunlit sitting area with cream curtains and deep green plants you watered every Tuesday.

It was the only room that felt like it belonged to someone who lived.

You started writing there—little letters you never sent.

Some to him.

Some to no one.

Letters like:

I wore the earrings my mother gave me today. You didn’t notice. No one ever does.

I think I’d love you if you’d let me.

I know I’m just the deal your father made to keep you in line.

I still made you dinner.

You kept them in a velvet box tucked in under the arm chair. 

Not because you wanted him to read them, but because writing them down helped you feel like less of a ghost in your own marriage.

The first real conversation you had came by accident.

You were in the kitchen late one night, padding across the tile floors in bare feet and his too-big hoodie—because everything else was in the laundry and you were cold.

You didn’t expect him to come home early.

He blinked when he saw you by the stove, pouring hot water into a teacup.

“…You’re up?” he asked, like it was strange. Like you weren’t someone who lived here.

You nodded, unsure of what to say, “uh…wanted to make sure you got home okay.” you mumbled, not looking at him.

You were pathetic, sitting here far too late into the night waiting for a man who didn’t love you to come home.

He looked like he wanted to say something else—but the words never came.

Instead, his gaze drifted to your clothes.

“That’s mine.”

You looked down at the hoodie. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I was just—”

“You can wear it. I don’t care.”

He said it so fast you nearly missed the small curl in his voice. Like maybe he did care. 

Like maybe something in his chest tugged at the sight of you in it.

Either that or he never wanted you to wear it again. You weren’t sure yet.

You sat in silence after that. He didn’t leave right away. 

He stayed—leaning against the doorframe like someone watching a stranger through glass.

The moment passed.

And then he said, “Night,” and disappeared into the hall.

It was a crack in the wall.

But a crack wasn’t enough to let the light in.

So the days went on.

He kept his distance.

You kept trying.

You made dinner every night. You never asked if he’d be there. But sometimes—sometimes—he ate what you left in the fridge.

That counted for something, didn’t it?

The house was quiet.

It’s the kind of silence that used to comfort Reo—back when it meant peace, stillness, something earned. But lately, it clings too tight. It echoes. Reo isn’t sure when the walls started feeling too wide, like the rooms were built for a version of him that no longer fits.

You’re not home. You left a note on the fridge, something about grabbing groceries and a coffee with your sister. 

He could have gone with you. 

You didn’t ask.

He wanders without meaning to. First to the kitchen, then to the hallway, and finally to the sitting room—the only room that still feels like it holds something real.

The afternoon sun filters through sheer curtains. It paints long shadows over the rug you picked out last spring. Reo crouches by the armchair. Something shifts beneath the hem of the fabric—a corner of a dark velvet box barely visible under the chair.

He pulls it out, curious.

It’s heavier than it looks.

The lid creaks when he opens it. Inside: envelopes. Dozens. All the same size. Some newer, some worn around the edges like they’ve been held more than once.

He pulls one out at random. There’s no date. Just his name on the front in your handwriting.

He hesitates.

And then he reads.

One day, he came home early.

So early it startled you.

You were in the sitting room, writing. Not one of your usual letters. Just thoughts. Scribbles in the margins of a notebook, where you were trying to remember what your voice sounded like when it wasn’t filtered through sadness and expectation.

You didn’t hear him walk in.

But you heard the door open. And then a pause.

And then: the sound of paper shifting.

Your heart dropped.

By the time you looked up, he was holding one of the letters.

Not one of the silly ones.

Not one of the harmless little diary pages.

No—this one was raw. This one hurt.

It was the one you wrote after your anniversary last week, when he didn’t come home until 2AM and never said a word about what day it was.

The one that said:

I sat in a dress for three hours waiting for someone who didn’t ask me to marry him and still doesn’t want to be here. 

Happy anniversary to me.

Reo’s eyes flicked over the page. His jaw clenched.

He didn’t look at you.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, voice tight.

You blinked at him. “I tried. For months.”

“No—you wrote things and left them in a box.”

You stood. “You were never home. You never asked.”

“I didn’t think you cared.”

Your laugh cracked in the middle. “I didn’t have to care. I was given to you.”

He finally looked at you then.

Really looked. Like maybe—maybe—he was starting to see past the marble mask of this perfect life.

“…I didn’t want it to be like this,” he said, softer now. “I didn’t want to be that guy.”

You crossed your arms, every part of you aching. “Then why were you?”

Silence.

He ran a hand through his hair. Frustrated. Lost.

And then, almost too quiet:

“Because I didn’t know what to do with someone who might’ve actually… wanted to know me.”

“I don’t…want to know you. Not now. Not ever.” You were a bad liar, always had been. You bit on your thumb, not looking him in the eyes. You weren’t sure your heart could handle it if you did - that stupid traitorous organ.

Reo didn’t put up a fight, instead he put the note on the table and walked back to the room he’d all but taken over- the guest room.

While you retreated back to the room that was once his- that was meant for the both of you. The one you’d been sleeping alone in for these past few months. The one where you had to change the sheets weekly because of your tears.

The letter stayed on the kitchen table.

He didn’t put it back in the box.

Didn’t throw it away either.

He just left it there, like a wound in plain sight.

You avoided it for three days.

You didn’t talk to him. Not because you were angry—but because you didn’t know what else to say. There were no rules for this kind of marriage. There were only long silences, and carefully avoided glances, and the quiet weight of too many things unsaid.

You still made dinner.

You still watered the plants.

You still took off your jewelry at night and set it in the velvet-lined case your father gifted you as a wedding present.

“It’ll match your husband’s name,” he had said.

But what good was a name if the man behind it wouldn’t even sit across from you at the table?

The night it changed, the sky was gray and heavy. Rain smeared the windows, soft and constant like background noise to the ache in your chest.

You made pasta.

You weren’t expecting him to come home early again. You didn’t even hear the door. Just the sound of footsteps across hardwood, steady and real.

And then his voice—quiet, behind you.

“…That smells good.”

You turned. He was soaked through, jacket clinging to his frame like it was too tired to hang on anymore.

You grabbed a towel from the counter and handed it to him without thinking.

He took it, fingers brushing yours.

And for the first time since your wedding day, Reo looked at you like you were something real. Not a responsibility. Not a deal. Not a ghost in his hallway.

Just you.

He didn’t go to his office that night.

He sat at the table.

Ate the pasta.

Said thank you.

Not a lot. 

Not a flood of words or some grand apology. 

But his presence—the fact that he stayed—was louder than anything he could’ve said.

Halfway through the meal, you asked him again, “How was practice?”

You were prepared for a repeat of the last time you asked, him shutting you out and running away to his office. 

You’d be okay if it happened, after all, you’d grown used to the silence in this house.

He paused. Looked down. Took a breath like it was heavier than the air allowed.

“…Rough,” he admitted. “My legs felt like concrete.”

You smiled, just barely. “Then you’re human after all.”

That got a small laugh out of him. Soft. Surprised. Like he didn’t know he still had it in him.

“I guess so.”

He helped you clear the dishes. Put the leftovers away. Stood beside you at the sink like someone trying to remember what domesticity looked like.

The silence between you wasn’t cold anymore.

It was just quiet.

And maybe—maybe—hopeful.

He didn’t go to the guest room that night.

He sat at the edge of the bed, damp hair falling into his eyes, and asked you something that knocked the breath from your lungs.

“Do you hate me?”

You blinked. “What?”

Reo looked down at his hands. The same ones that held world-class trophies and training weights and the pressure of being perfect since he was a boy.

“…I didn’t know how to be a husband,” he said. “Didn’t want to be one, at first. Not like that. Not like a pawn in some game our dads made.”

You stayed silent.

He kept going, voice cracking just enough to feel real. 

“But then I saw that letter. And I realized—shit, I made you feel disposable. Like you were just…second best. And that’s not fair.”

You could barely breathe.

“I didn’t want to fall in love with someone just because I was supposed to,” he said, voice low now. “But that wasn’t your fault. And I’ve been an asshole. I know that.”

You swallowed the knot in your throat. “…And now?”

Reo turned toward you then, expression open in a way you’d never seen before. No charm. No smirk. No shield of distance.

Just him.

“Now I think I already did,” he said. “Fall in love with you.”

You didn’t kiss him that night.

But you let him hold your hand.

And when you fell asleep beside him, his heartbeat was steady against your back. Like he was trying, for the first time, to match your rhythm instead of walk ahead.

The next morning, there were flowers in the kitchen.

Real ones. Your favorite kind. A little handwritten note tucked between the stems.

Let me make it right. Dinner tonight?

You read it twice.

You smiled.

And then you made breakfast for two.

reader is far more forgiving than me but i didn't want this to get too long.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

❀ tags: ❀ @kenyuukissme ❀ @irethepotato ❀ @kiyy0mei ❀ @x3nafix ❀ @sugacor3 ❀ @ohagiyo ❀ @reigensuperstar ❀ @nevvynevnev ❀ join the taglist here !

⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[cheralith]

another nagi headcanon… despite being very flat and expressionless irl, he’s very colorful on text. likes to send kaomojis and meme reaction pictures, really loves to keyboard spam.

reo, on the other hand, despite his bright personality, treats his texts like informal business email, always ending things with periods and having precise grammar. he’d maybe opt in for a smiley face here and there, but nothing more than that. and because compared to nagi, he’s so chronically offline and doesn’t understand more than half of the references nagi texts him. reo has urban dictionary bookmarked on his phone for this reason.

nagi ; barou flop

nagi ; he’s trying to reheat isagi’s nachos so bad ajsjfjg

reo ; What? What does that mean?

nagi ; it’s just a keyboard spam

reo ; Oh. How does it work?

nagi ; just type anything

reo ; 7.

[jupinova]

Sad Girl

[eternally-tired-muffin]

i think it's funny that this keeps on happening

[casey0w0]

Where’d you go

[marshidoesart]

Yall I made this a few month ago and I love the result but i wish more people could watch it🥲

[owarinaki]

Blue lock x Salon Beauty

Source

[strawberymilkk]

[iwas-tooru]

bllk as textposts ✨ (yeah i hv no clue)

[rinskazuu]

want your bad romance ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

synopsis. ꨄ︎ you text the bllk guys that you cheated on them as a prank (ft. my favs <3)

characters. ꨄ︎ fem!reader x sae, kaiser, otoya, karasu, bachira, reo, and nagi (separate)

cw. ꨄ︎ fluff, crack, swearing, pet names, sassy men, sarcasm, mentions of violence, kaiser being mean, sae being his brother's biggest hater (are we surprised), eita being a silly little down bad bf

notes. ꨄ︎ loving sae and kaiser the same, but only wanting to punch kaiser in the face <3

♪ song used. ꨄ︎ bad romance by lady gaga

end notes. ꨄ︎ guys i love kaiser sm it's not funny (i love sae more)

want to join my taglist? all that's required is for u to let me know in the comments! WARNING: i do post for different fandoms

tags. ꨄ︎ @starlightanyaaa @jellyfishlord123 @namjooningera @bontensbabygirl @starrnai @tillaboo @patpatspatz @sugusmonkeyy @herefor-tojis-tits @hanham10 @samoankpoper21

reblogs, comments, and likes are all appreciated! <3

bllk masterlist | general masterlist

[kymerauwu]

Yeah, whatever same

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

it’s you, it’s you, it’s always you ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

the blue lock boys who will only ever have one lover throughout their life…and the reasons why.

(a/n: this one can be cute but it can be just as humbling and cruel at the same time. i tried to be as realistically romantic as possible, remembering that the blue lock boys are still in the end, teenage boys)

⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦

the ones who have one lover simply because they’re loyal

isagi, yukimiya, kaiser

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ isagi - growing up with a loving family who loves him unconditionally, isagi is naturally someone who believes in monogamy and traditional dating values, such as loyalty. even if there is a hypothetical scenario where isagi falls out of love with his lover, he’ll still stay because he simply believes that it’s just “the right thing to do”. even if his lover breaks up with him, he’ll stay single because he doesn’t want the potential scenario where he falls back in love with his lover while dating someone else.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ yukimiya - loyalty and good morals is something that yukimiya shows a lot of in the series, so naturally, it’s the same when it comes to romance with him. cheating on someone is a clear “no” for yukimiya—why would he date someone in the first place if he’s just going to cheat on them anyways? and if his lover ever cheats on him? well, he’ll be far too heartbroken and insecure to ever go on a date with someone else ever again. he’ll probably try getting his lover back though.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ kaiser - i know, i know. kaiser, of all people, loyal? i think the biggest factor in this is his mother and also his constant needed desire for unconditional love. kaiser’s mother left him and his father, and kaiser is most definitely not wanting to follow in his mother’s footsteps. plus, kaiser canonically having studied psychology makes it clear that he probably knows that if he stays loyal to someone, that’ll make it easier to make them love him unconditionally. ultimately, kaiser’s sure as hell a red flag, but he’s not heartless.

⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦

the ones who have one lover because no one else wants them

bachira, nagi, hiori

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ bachira - i think we all know that bachira grew up pretty much alone. with such a lack of friends, the moment someone shows interest in him, he’ll latch onto them. it’s to the point where it gets unhealthy, as he’ll get into a nearly depressed state if someone he latches onto finds someone else, like his reaction when isagi and rin were ignoring him during the second selection. because of this, he’ll realize pretty damn quickly that if he wants someone else to be loyal to him, he’ll have to be just as devoted.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ nagi - similar to bachira, he grew up with basically no friends until he met reo. although nagi doesn’t seem to care nearly as much, ever since meeting reo, he is much more attached. nagi is self aware that he’s not the most pleasant of the bunch, so similar to how he is with reo, if he meets someone who genuinely cares, he will latch onto them. sure, there will be times where he will leave for a little while; but in the end, he will always come crawling back to his lover because he knows that no one else would want him.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ hiori - hiori is a weird one. a lot of people definitely have a crush on hiori; however, due to his childhood and the way that his parents treated him like more of a tool, hiori definitely just wants love—similar to kaiser. however, the biggest difference is that when hiori finds someone who loves him, he doesn’t realize that other people love him too. it very much matches the saying “love is blind” if you don’t understand what im saying. hiori is obsessed with the idea of being loved that he’ll do anything to help and stay loyal.

⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦

the ones who have one lover because they want no one else

reo, kunigami, barou

(a/n: remember kids, THESE are the MEN—not boys—who you should date)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ reo - reo is someone where if he falls in love with someone, there is no one else in the world except for him and his lover. just looking at the way that reo acted when nagi left him for isagi says enough already on its own; reo didn’t try to find someone else to replace nagi—he tried getting nagi back and grieved. when reo falls in love, he truly wants no one else. even if someone goes on their knees and begs for reo to give someone else a chance, he’ll just reject them. in fact, reo will do anything for his lover to stay.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ kunigami - walking green flag. growing up with younger sisters, he knows that being loyal and dating someone who he truly loves is extremely important. he always makes sure to not date someone or give someone who he doesn’t like the wrong idea because he doesn’t want to break their heart and make himself feel guilty. similar to reo, once kunigami falls in love, the world is just him and his lover. to him, falling in love is an eternal thing—something forever. and kunigami knows better than to take advantage of that.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ barou - just like kunigami, barou always grew up with younger sisters who he took good care of. he understands to be a loyal man—that it’s important to treat someone who he loves in a devoted and loyal way. it’s rare for barou to fall in love because this man KNOWS his worth. he doesn’t want someone who will take advantage of him and his housewife ways; so barou falling in love is—like kunigami—a lifetime thing. he’s dedicated to whoever his lover is because…why shouldn’t he? if he fell in love, he won’t fall out of love.

[miyakiwiii]

[definitelynotanalien]

Blue Lock guys after pound town (the trend yk)

feat: Hyoma Chigiri, Michael Kaiser, Sae Itoshi, Tabito Karasu, Reo Mikage

tw: mentions of sex, slurs

Inspired by this post by @captainshindo

pound town, supposedly the closest a person could get to another.

Perhaps because of the use of sexual organs, or the physical action of being inside another, or even because of the pleasure that could result from the experience.

Who wouldn’t want to gain that pleasure, no matter how short term it was? 

You.

The answer was you.

Currently you’re sitting at some nowhere diner, eating the greasy fries whilst you lean on the side of the booth. Opposing you is Hyoma Chigiri, one of the star players for the Manshine’s team, and your boyfriend. 

He’s sipping his cola, stealing a fry from you every once in a while, despite your objections, afterall this is supposed to be your treat after being subjected to the butral rounds he put you through. Your legs clench at the thought.

Hyoma is watching you with an eager glint in his eyes, his composure steady, barely changing aside from an occasional vibration or two.

The pair of you had just finished a rather intense round, and decided to go out for fast food instead of just ordering take out like normal people.

You’re practically trembling, struggling to keep up any facade of normalcy as you painstakingly retrieve a small fry.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Hyoma interjects your thoughts with a small smirk, taking his half eaten french fry and dipping it into the sauce before plopping it into his mouth.

You glare at him, completely deadpan. “I can barely walk right now.”

Hyoma laughs, covering his mouth with a hand as he delightedly looks at your face. 

“Skill issue.” He comments.

You drop a fry. 

“We’re never fucking again.” You say, shaking your head smoothly. 

Hyoma gapes, his pretty swollen pink lips separating for a moment in mock offense.

He knows you don’t actually mean it, you’re just using it as a playful way to tease the boy, even if you were serious he knows you’ll come back to him sooner or later.

“But you like it soo much~” He teases, putting his arm over the table to nudge your shoulder, making you lose the support of the booth chair

You don’t bother to give him a response.

Michael Kaiser stares at you with a victorious glint as he takes a bite of his burger. 

You’re sitting in front of him, leaning your head back and staring up at the ceiling as you contemplate life, and as you struggle to even pick up your own burger, let alone eat any of it.

His blond hair is fluffed up ever so slightly more than usual, it’s not as bad as his bed head, but it looks the same as it does after a competitive match. 

You’re struggling to keep your composure, switching between trying to eat and staring at the ceiling, you hear a snicker.

“Talk so big yet you can’t take it?” He remarks, it’s posed as a question and yet it sounds more like an observation.

You shake your head, and choose to smash it against the table in front of you, narrowly avoiding your plate.

You groan, “Not when I’m taking so big.”

Michael chokes on his water, a rare moment of shock.

Then he returns to his usual cocky persona, leaning his head on his hand. “You really shouldn’t say that in public, liebling, it makes me want to do it again.”

Michael takes another large bite of his burger, practically unhinging his jaw. He wipes off any remaining sauce with a tissue.

“There is no next time.” You respond, lifting your head off the table and weakly attempting to eat some of your treat.

He laughs, it’s twisted and much too confident for his own good, yet for some reason it makes him seem even more endearing as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Don’t lie, we both know you can’t resist me.” Michael teases, twirling a strand of his blond-blue locks with a finger, he makes a crude scissoring gesture as he splits the piece of hair in half, it makes you flush.

You smash your head into the table again, having officially given up.

The pink haired man sitting in front of you narrows his eyes, twirling the metal straw that leads to his beverage as Sae Itoshi calmly looks over your appearance.

The two of you are sat in Sae’s apartment, a bag of fast food pushed to the side of his marble countertops as you lean on his kitchen’s island.

Sae regards you with a judgemental glance, looking over your disheveled appearance as he comments, “You know those aren’t good for you?”

You pause, a couple of french fries in hand. You begin to slowly guide them towards your mouth, eating them with careful consideration.

“I don’t care.” You respond, shrugging as your partner glares down at you.

Sae looks like an angry porcupine as he crosses his arms. He takes a tentative sip from his glass of ice cold water, and he contemplates forcing you to eat something actually healthy, although he doubts it would go over well with you.

“Don’t come crying to me later, then.” He turns away from you, as if about to walk off, then he turns back towards you to make another point. “You know-“

You cut him off, “Shut up.”

He raises his eyebrows, and lightly flicks your forehead. You make an over exaggerated groan at the movement, and Sae smirks.

“Stop being pissy, I’m just telling the truth.” He says bluntly, a subtle glimmer of affection in his eyes.

You reach to take another fry, and Sae lightly swats your hand, you glare. He already bought it, so why wasn’t he letting you eat it.

“If you keep at it, you’ll never get to hit this again.” You declare, shaking your head slowly.

Sae pauses, tilting his head to the side and staring at you with blank eyes, “Hit this…?” he asks, wrinkling his eyebrows. 

You forgot that Sae is chronically offline.

“Nevermind.”

A warm smell fills the air, and a sizzling sound ceases. You’re sitting at your dining room table, leaning back and facing your face to the ceiling. 

Tabito Karasu sets a plate, and some chopsticks in front of you. He grabs a few other dishes from the kitchen, his hair floppy and free from hair wax. It’s a domestic scene, especially since you’ve just been brutally railed, and you’re enjoying it.

Every so often your thighs shake from the previous overstimulation, and as it happens when Tabito sets the final dish on the table, he flashes you his signature grin.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You deflect, gripping your chair and pulling it closer to the table.

Tabito laughs crisply, it’s warm and inviting, you want to hear it over and over again. 

“Like what?” He asks, leaning towards you ever so slightly. 

You feel your cheeks start to warm as he runs a hand through his hair, his beautiful hair wax free hair.

You hesitate to place anything on your plate, worried that you’ll struggle to use the chopsticks he so nicely face you, as your hands tremble.

Tabito notices. He picks up some food and starts to place it onto your plate, giving you generous amounts. “Next time I’ll go easier.” 

You pause, flustered. Tabito finishes giving you food, and goes into the kitchen to grab a knife, fork, and spoon just in case. He places them onto the table, so you can use them if you can’t use chopsticks anymore.

Your heart swells, and you’re delighted by the fact that this man is your boyfriend, especially when you dig in and taste a delicious home cooked meal.

“What makes you think there will be a next time?” You comment in between bites, with a small smile.

He stares down at you, and smirks.

Reo Mikage looks down at you pitifully, as if begging you not to do this.

It’s late, and you’re surprisingly hungry after quite a few rounds, of course Reo isn’t, considering how desperate he was eating you earlier.

You’re laying in bed, and scrolling through a delivery app on your phone, Reo sits up next to you, looking at your phone.

“You realise I have private chefs?” He comments, running his fingers through your freshly washed hair with a gentle smile.

You tap your order into the delivery app, choosing to buy from a quick and easy fast food place. 

“It’s too late to call on them.” You rebutt his comment, clicking onto the pay section of the app.

Reo sighs, stretching his arms up and shuffling towards the edge of the bed. He starts to try to leave the warmth of the bed, but you wrap your quivering legs around him.

He grins, “I can make you something myself.”, Reo behind to squirm his way out of your legs and bed. Unfortunately your legs seem to have lost the strength they possessed during your earlier endeavours.

You groan, tossing your phone to the side and grabbing Reo’s torso with your hands. 

“I want fast food.” You demand, holding onto him tightly and using all your body weight to make him stay. It’s a helpless thing, as your boyfriend is incredibly strong due to his time in Manshine and his job as a professional footballer, but nevertheless!

Reo groans, “But it’s rather… unhealthy and greasy.” he explains, still ready to leave the bed to make you something. If he does, you’re sure you’ll kill him.

You smirk, a mischievous idea on your mind, and you pull yourself towards your boyfriend to kiss him right next to his mouth.

“Like you.” You say, pushing away from him. 

Reo rolls his eyes, and stays in bed, shuffling towards the middle once more.

“I despise that comparison.”