#i love haute couture owemji

[senqv]

LOVEGAME !

blue lock ! fanfic featuring : michael kaiser x gn! reader

warning(s) : lots of mentions of feminine stuff like dresses & makeup but still can be read as gender neutral ( hopefully ??? ) , kisses <3 , a bittt suggestive , loserboy kaiser , established relationship , no proofread so prolly some spelling / grammar mistakes , lmk if there are more !

kaiser as the rich football star who loves spoiling his lover. he brings in around 2 million usd annually, so just say the word and he will deliver it. anything from givenchy to giambattista valli; or even the custom-made garments from paris couture week starting from the tens of thousands to several millions.

he’s also quite accustomed to playing around with makeup, loves it when you offer to do his eyeliner for him <3 but really, what he enjoys the most is dressing you up all pretty just for him !!

“gorgeous,” kaiser whispers, lithe fingers going down the side of the navy satin gown from saint laurent, teasingly flitting just below the hemline. his fingers press down onto your thigh at the way your makeup preoccupies you instead of paying attention to him, tilting his head to the side as he meets your gaze in the vanity mirror. “just a sec,” you continue to apply your mascara without a care in the world, oblivious to the impatient taps of your boyfriend’s fingers. he leans forward with a sigh, hands caged at either side of your frame.

kaiser frowns in displeasure at your refusal to spare him even a glance, and you can tell he’s getting restless at the way his fingers drum aggressively against the table. “kaiser,” it’s almost funny how fast he looks up at the call of your voice. “sit behind on the bed or something, please ? you’re distracting me.” you say, leaning even more forward to properly apply the opalescent highlights on your eyelid, disregarding the way your boyfriend’s jaw nearly drops at the sheer audacity ?? how dare anyone, much less his own lover, disregard his presence ????

kaiser’s frown deepens as he opens his mouth to protest, but decides against it as he begrudgingly sits on the side of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. he crosses his arms, biceps flexing visibly below his rolled sleeves that were just a tad too tight. from the corner of his eye, he can see you uncapping a tube, recognising it as the rouge hérmes lipstick he gifted to you not too long ago. the wine red sheen makes your lips especially ravishing, and he has to tear his gaze away before he gives in to his desires to kiss you until you can’t think. not after that stunt you pulled !!

kaiser purposely avoids your gaze as you walk towards him, glancing to the side and keeping his arms crossed as you climb into his lap. “kaiser,” your voice is a teasing lilt, and kaiser turns his head away from you, powered by pure spite and pettiness. “michael,” voice dropping to a saccharine sweetness, and usually this would do the trick. but kaiser seems hellbent on teaching you a lesson today. and so he continues to glance away from you, bottom lip jutting out adorably.

your lips curve down into a pout, pulling out all the stops. your pointer tips his chin towards you, sultry voice akin to dripping honey as you call out a “darling ?” you can see the way his adam’s apple bobs as heat rises from his neck, flushed face and all. finally, he turns towards you, still futilely trying to evade your gaze.

“ja? mmh-!” he is cut off by the press of your lips against his, jolting from the sudden kiss. you don’t think you’ve ever heard kaiser whimper as he shakily snakes his hands around your waist and behind your head, melting further into you. his tongue licks at your lips as you part breathlessly, desperate for more. his lips are stained a delicious red, and you’re sure that your mouth, too, is awfully smudged by that gorgeous carmine. his chest rises up and down unsteadily, pupils dilated and blown wide.

“you-“ you pay no mind at his protests, swiping on another layer of lipstick as you end whatever he was about to say with another kiss on the corner of his lips. then on his cheek; down his neck, the tip of his nose; he shivers at every touch of your lips, and if someone were to walk in, they’d think you were bullying the mighty emperor with the way he was shaking, a wild flush on his face.

you giggle as you admire your finished masterpiece, red kiss marks littered all over his face and down the dip of his half-buttoned shirt. he looks dazed, sharp blue eyes unusually cloudy. you take a glance down at his patek philippe 1915 watch. “hey, we’re gonna be late.” suddenly, you’re hauled back onto his lap, his grip on your waist tighter than ever. his gaze is electrifying, staring with a certain vivacity you’ve only seen him have on field. “again,” he whispers, eyes lidded as he brushes his lips against yours. “wait- kaiser!”

he is practically feral, leaning down and bending you back that you would fall if it wasn’t for his unwavering grip at your waist. a kiss at the side of your lips, against your mouth again, and repeat. “mmh- enough, ‘s too much-” you whine tiredly, hitting his back in vain. “too much? ” a mocking smile forms on his face. “im just getting started.”