EVIL SMAU #3: Problematic Autocorrect Characters: Sae, Barou, Nagi, Ness, Kaiser, Shidou, Reo, Rin, Isagi,

EVIL SMAU #3: — Problematic autocorrect 😯😯 Characters: Sae, Barou, Nagi, Ness, Kaiser, Shidou, Reo, Rin, Isagi, Bachira Type: Humor/Crackfic

Inspired by when I typed "since" and google docs changed it to "sensei" like wtf who is sensei bitch

sᴍᴀᴜ!ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʏʟᴀ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴛʀᴇɴᴅ

ɪɴᴄ: ɴᴀɢɪ, sᴀᴇ, ʀɪɴ, ɪsᴀɢɪ, ᴋᴀɪsᴇʀ, sʜɪᴅᴏᴜ, ʙᴀʀᴏᴜ, ʙᴀᴄʜɪʀᴀ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ: sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ, ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ

wc <0.4k

"rin, i'm sleepy."

it's two in the morning, raining outside but still unbearably warm. you're barely awake, and so is he.

"so go back to sleep again, then." his indifferent answer comes out in an instant, shadowed teal eyes still fixed on one of the replays he's always watching on his phone.

"but i want to sleep with you!" your voice is whiny, almost needy, an unusual occurrence in this household. you're like rin; neither of you are ever clingy except on those hot and humid nights when it's late and the covers have been thrown haphazardly onto somewhere on the floor, and he's peeling off his shirt because it's hot as fuck but he still wants to feel you. and you obviously share the sentiment every single time, sinking wholeheartedly into his arms, even though you know it'll make the heat worse.

the screen goes black.

"something wrong?" he asks. you're swaying slightly, balancing on the balls of your feet as you consider the question.

"mmm... nah, not really."

"then?"

"is it a crime to want my boyfriend?"

"that's new." the words slip out before he can stop himself; rin braces for an impact that never comes.

you shrug. "i guess."

concerning.

"okay," he sighs, getting up. his phone is slid into the pocket of his shorts. "let's get you to bed."

you pad up the stairs before him, but refuse to get in.

"rin, the covers."

as hot as it is today, your covers are still on the bed and he knows you do not like that. rin sighs again, expression still flat before effortlessly scooping you up with one arm. he pulls back the covers, takes a step back and then fucking throws you into bed like it's no big deal.

a rare, wide grin stretches across his face when he hears you let out a surprised giggle.— just as uncommon of an occurrence.

“rin!” you shriek.

he tilts his head to one side, smile gone as soon as it comes, and climbs into bed with you. “shh, why so loud? the neighbours’ll complain.”

“it'll all be your fault!” you hiss back at him, glaring as you look away. but there is no malice in your tone or your gaze.

“...sorry.” his shirt is on the floor, he pulls you into his arms and the slightly uncomfortable but still welcome warmth of his chest. “here, i’ll make up to you, i swear.”

© laughingfcx 2024. do not repost, translate or plagiarise.

Thinking about Bachira Meguru assuming he's unlovable.

Being called a monster for their whole childhood really makes a mark on a person's life and self-esteem. But for Bachira, they were unavoidable.

At first, he tried to ignore the mean comments and pretend he didn't hear them. Maybe that would make the loneliness go away. Maybe it would make the problems disappear.

"He's a freak!"

"Eww, don't get too close to Bachira! You'll get lice!!"

"He's stinky"

He heard the whispers. He just used to pretend he didn't. For both his and the children's sake. So he could pretend he was normal. At least for a while.

And, sometimes, even parents, grown-ass adults, called him weird. Shouldn't they set an example for their kids? They tell them: "Don't judge other people! You never know what they're going through!", but are always the first to talk shit about someone, even if said someone is a little kid.

"Poor kid. It's probably the parents fault."

"He says sees a 'monster'! He's probably schizophrenic."

"My son is afraid of him. Specially when he's playing soccer. He said he's very scary"

He tried to ignore them. He really did. He tried to smile through it all and treat people the same way he always had nevertheless: with respect. Because crying would make his problems real. He didn't want them to be real. And he was doing a good job at it! But one faithful day, he snapped. The final nail in the coffin.

"When I grow up, I want to be a football player, just like Zico!" 11 year old Bachira said, showing the whole class a drawing of him, Zico and his monster playing soccer together. His smile was as bright and blinding as ever, specially because he was talking about his passion: soccer. He loved it so much. It helped him escape the harsh reality for a while.

The class went silent. They used to think Bachira was weird, to put it slightly, but this? It just made him even more weird! They all knew that he could never be a football player. He was an outcast. A freak. He was a monster. And monsters couldn't live with humans. Nobody wanted a monster on their team.

And so, instead of clapping like they did with the other kids' drawings, the class started to laugh. It started out quiet, but later it turned into a full, loud laugh. All of them. And Bachira always dreamed of making everyone there laugh, but not like this. They weren't laughing with him or because of him, they were laughing at him.

"Uh? What's happening, miss?" He asked the teacher, confused and on the verge of crying. He couldn't cry here. Not in front of them, please. That would be another thing for them to laugh at.

He swears on his life that he heard the teacher laugh a little, before the adult crouched down to match his size, grabbed his drawing and put it on his desk, while the other kids' drawings were being stuck to the board with tape. And then, he heard one of the worst sentences he ever heard in his life. One that he knew would definitely keep him awake at night:

"Meguru, being a football player is too hard for you. Why don't you settle for something more real and reachable? Like a doctor or a lawyer?"

He didn't understand. Some kids here wanted to be astronauts, others wanted to be models. Hell, one wanted to be a dinosaur babysitter. And their drawings were hanging on the wall, like they were going to be achieved. Bachira felt like no one believed in him. Like he was being put aside.

He then realized the problem wasn't what he wanted to do. It was him. Anyone could be a football player, but he couldn't. Because he was a monster. He was different from others.

And so, the tears began to fall. One by one, first from his left away and then from his right eye. His vision began to blurry. Left eye, right eye. Left, right, left right. Kids laughing, teacher laughing. His drawing on the desk. Left, right. Left right. He couldn't even see his own hands anymore from how blurred his vision was. He looked to his side. Left, right. The door. His escape. He needed to leave.

So, without second thought, Bachira ran towards the door. He couldn't care less for the teacher calling his name. He wouldn't come looking for him anyway. Nobody would. Nobody cared enough to do it.

He sat behind a tree, protected by it's shadow. He continued to cry. Hard. He put his hands in his eyes to try and stop the tears from falling, but he couldn't. He needed to let it all out. He just wished he had someone by his side during his breakdown. He really wanted a shoulder to rely on.

"Hey"

Maybe he was, indeed, schizophrenic. Because, the moment he looked up, he saw a girl he swore was too pretty to be real. The sunset made her have an angelic glow, and the wind made her hair flow just the right way. Her face was like a greek statuate, and he swore he could hear a soothing symphony playing in the background when he met her eyes: they were the most beautiful color he had ever seen, and he could imagine himself being lost and found in them. She was just too pretty. Too pretty to be here for him. And so, he managed to stop crying for a while and said, between sniffs:

"Did you lose a bet?"

The way your face contorted was almost comic.

"What?"

"Did someone pay you to come here? Where are the cameras? And how much was it?"

"I didn't lose any bet" you said, frowning. "I came here to check on you because I wanted to. I don't get why everyone laughed at you. Your dream is not stupid. Nobody's dream is."

"Even Richard's? He said he wants to be a dinossaur nanny" he said before he even thought about it. He then widened his eyes, because what if you were Richard's friend? What if you hated him now because he said something bad about your friend? What if he already screwed everything up? What if...

"Okay, you win. That one's actually stupid." You laughed. He made you laugh. This time, someone was laughing because of him. He felt like he was capable of everything at that moment. Your laugh was a sweet, infecting, honey-like melody. It made him wanna laugh too. He didn't realize it, but he had already stopped crying, and was now just staring at you with big, blown and unwavering eyes. His mouth slightly parted, like he was studying you and comitting everything about you to memory. Almost as if you were indeed an ilusion, and would disappear the second he blinked. He couldn't believe you were real. You were real, and you were talking to him.

After a while, you stopped laughing and finally noticed his intense staring. Suddenly bashful, your cheeks turned a bright red.

"I-I just want you to know that you shouldn't be ashamed of your dream. I think- no, I'm sure you can achieve it. You just have to work hard for it. I-I've seen you playing sometimes, and it's honestly amazing how focused you are. Bachira, I want to be your friend. That's it, if you'll let me-"

He hugged you. Hard. If it was any other time, he would have been afraid of scaring you off with the sudden hug, but he couldn't care less right now. He needed this. He needed a friend. You were just what he needed. You were perfect.

He started to cry again. This time, the first tear came out of his right eye. Right, left. His vision was getting blurred from how hard he was smiling. Right, left. Right, left. Your arms hugging him back. Right, left. The sound of the school bell, signalizing the end of the school day. People would see you and him hugging and you would probably be called weird by them for being next to him, but you still didn't break the hug. Right, left.

He didn't want to escape like he did during the class incident. No. He wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted time to stop, to be in your arms for eternity. He didn't want to pull away. He finally made a friend. You were his first friend.

Bachira Meguru used to think he was unlovable, but you proved him wrong. You proved he could, in fact, be loved. He wasn't a monster. He wasn't a freak. He was Bachira Meguru. Your best friend. And he wore that title with pride. Later on, he had the honour to be called your boyfriend, and he was even prouder of that one.

He used to think he would never find happiness. That's why, the moment the ref blew the whistle signalizing the end of Japan U-20 against Blue Lock eleven match and securing Blue Lock's victory, he couldn't think of anything else besides his girl. He ran across the field to you. Because you were like a magnet. He couldn't be apart from you, or else it felt like the whole earth would explode. He was yours and you were his. You both were meant to be.

"You did it! I love you, Meguru!"

He laughed. A pretty, genuine laugh followed by a couple of tears, beginning from his right eye, of course. His mother was recording behind you both, the blue lock team was smirking and whistling at the sight of you two and the television was streaming the moment for the whole world to see. But neither of you cared about the extra eyes. You were the only ones on the world. You always made him feel like that, and he hopes he makes you feel that way, too.

"I love you so much. Thank you."

Thank you for being with me. Thank you for being there. Thank you for not leaving me. Thank you for accepting the title of being my girlfriend proudly. Thank you for being you. Thank you for everything. Thank you.

He then lifted you and spun you in the air, smiling hard. He brought your lips closer and then kissed you. A kiss full of emotion and love. So much love: raw and pure.

You proved he wasn't just lovable. He was also capable of loving. And there's nothing prettier than loving someone.

Bachira Meguru was lovable, and you made sure to show him that. You loved him, and he would do everything to keep it that way forever.

~A/N: there's a "saying" that says that if you're crying and the first tear is from the left eye, you're crying from sadness. If the first tear comes out of the right eye, they're happy tears!!

Masterlist

uzui could fuck you to sleep and awake all in one night if he really wanted to. he put that dick down so well that it had you gasping for air like you went out for a ten-minute swim. you would think that having four wives would tire him out, exhaust him, and put him in hibernation for the next two weeks, but it did quite the opposite.

every time he would come see you, his eyes would sparkle right before fucking you crazy. he loved you so much it was almost indescribable, but a close second to loving you so much, he could hear his heart beat in his ears whenever he looked at you. he loved fucking you. there was something about how you felt that made him lose his sanity, and he just couldn't stop. the feeling of your pussy clenched around him had his cum leaking inside of you with every stroke.

foursomes were a no-go with you; he didn't even harp on it for a second longer; he wanted to give you and your body his undivided attention; he made love to your body and couldn't have any distractions when doing so. licking all on you, telling you how pretty you were when you took his dick, giving you hickies from your neck to your pussy, he was true to this, not new to this.

he made sure to take his time with you, one leg on his shoulder and his hand holding the other one up as he fucked you deep and slow, his hair down and a few strands sticking to his forehead, his hair swinging in and out of his view, but his eyes never left your face—the face that made his dick rock hard and made him want to put a baby in you. 

uzui wanted you badly, and not even he knew every single reason why, but his heart didn't lie. every time he was making his way back to see you, his heart skipped a beat, and his dick got hard; he couldn't help it even if he tried. he didn't want to play favorites, but it was looking that way when he did threesomes with everyone else but made one-on-one time to fuck you till the sheets were damp and your eyes were filled with tears.

groaning and whimpering every time he got the chance to be inside of you again, taking big gulps every time he pushed into your sweet spot, and watching you jump and squirm when he pushed and applied pressure on it without letting up. 

no one could compare to the way you felt and tasted; it was like eating a fruit that no one else could have; it tasted and felt different inside of his mouth, and he was going to let it be known. he didn't care who was saying what because all he could think about was you; all he ever wanted to be was around you. 

he never felt bad about giving you more attention because you lived alone while he lived with three other women, so in his mind, even though he was paying your rent, buying your groceries', and giving you his card, he just had to give you ten times more attention. that was man's logic.

or that was just the excuse he gave himself every time he found himself in you for the fifth time in the same day, with his hands on your hips pushing into you and kissing down the back of your neck, leaving his marks.

he was indeed picking favorites, but let's be real—who isn't picking you?

SWEET BABY (rin i.) !

features: rin itoshi

contents: tooth rotting fluff. no wc (prbably like 0.4k?). brainrot.

notes: for the loml zen (@saexy) because its ur fault i'm thinking about him.

rin's voice is muffled against your neck, soft black hair ticking under your chin. his massive frame is sprawled overtop of you on the couch (which his feet hand over the armrest of because he is simply a big baby).

"i'm not cute, that's lukewarm." he grumbles, plush pink lips brushing slightly against your pulse point. you can feel his scrunched up brows against your skin: he was sulking.

your chuckle rings like bells in his ear, it doesn't help to distract him from the gooey warm mush clouding his mind. "rinnie, i believe many boys would be lucky to have their lover calling them cute..." there's a playful lilt to your words, corners of you lips quirking upwards in amusement.

he finds himself suppressing a whine, you know damn well why he's acting this way and you still chose to torment him, to tease him to ruthlessly.

"i'm not a baby, i'm a man..." rin huffs, but the soft pout on his lips and the grasping hands against your shirt tell otherwise. his head lifts up to expose his reddened cheeks: giving you the meanest glare he could muster (which looked more like an angry puppy than anything...)

your hands instantly cup against the roundness of his cheeks. though his baby-face had long since grown sharp, there's still just enough to pinch gently between loving fingers. "you'll always be my baby rin, my sweet boy..."

the boy only groans, large hands reaching to gently encircle your wrists. there's no real force exerting from him as he pushes your hands down against the pillow beside your head.

his knees dig into the plush of the couch on either side of your hips, allowing him to hover over you. turquoise eyes dart around every slope and valley of your face, memorizing what love looks like to him.

"i'm not a damn baby, and you know it..." his voice is gruff as he falls back onto you, pulling a soft 'oof' from your lungs. rin's fingers intertwine with yours, still keeping your hands down by your head.

he claims not to be a baby but he's just so damn soft when it comes to you, how could you not want to spoil him rotten?

okotsuus 24