What They Look For In A Partner ; Inarizaki Ver. ⋆˚࿔

what they look for in a partner ; inarizaki ver. ⋆˚࿔

atsumu ; looks for someone confident. atsumu has a little bit of an ego, and probably would not be compatible with someone who is the opposite. needs someone who wont shrink under his teasing and accidental harsh words, and isnt afraid to take up space. someone who can stand beside him rather than behind him.

osamu ; looks for someone steady. he doesnt want drama, doesn’t need someone who turns every small issue into a storm. if he did, he would just go to his brother’s room. someone who enjoys the quiet moments, who doesn’t mind just existing beside him without the need for constant excitement. also could not be with someone who thinks food is an enemy/has a bad relationship with food.

kita ; looks for someone reliable. he doesn’t ask for much, just someone who keeps their word, who means what they say and follows through. most probably would not be with someone vastly different from him, and is more attracted to people who are more mature and responsible. they can have their bouts of immaturity, but if they’re not acting their age 9 times out of 10, they’re gone. probably also could not be with someone materialistic, someone who is inflexible and rigid.

aran ; looks for someone supportive. after kita, he takes care of everyone else on the team, so he needs someone who remembers to take care of him. someone who sees the effort he puts into everything and reminds him that he doesn’t have to carry it all alone.

suna ; looks for someone easygoing. would not be compatible with someone who is chronically offline, unless they have some charm that cancels that out. cant stand unnecessary stress, but needs someone that is as much of a chismosa as he is. should be able to put up with his habit of sending 200 reels a day and never responding to any of yours.

ginjima ; looks for someone passionate. admires people who care deeply about something, even if its a little ridiculous. someone who puts their whole heart into things, who doesn’t half-ass their dreams or their feelings.

akagi ; looks for someone fun. someone who laughs easily and doesn’t take things too seriously. someone who can match his energy, who doesn’t mind being a little ridiculous just for the sake of it.

🚨URGENT🚨

Please stop ✋🚨 you're the only hope to save a child🥺

My son Mohammed is in critical condition after being shot by Israeli drones. He has been taken to the operating ⛺️ and urgently needs treatment outside the Gaza Strip.

I lost most of my family. I'm afraid to lose my son too 🥺 .

I need your help please donate and share, evry contribution, no matter how small, brings us hope in these dark times.

Mohammed deserves to live a happy and healthy life, just like every other child on this earth.

Please Donate now:👇👇 👇

gofundme.com

Donate to Join Us in Our Struggle: Save Our Family from War in Gaza, organized by Ghazal Naseer

‎‏Dear friends, ‎‏My name is Ghazal Naseer, from pales… Ghazal Naseer needs your support for Join Us in Our Struggle: Save Our Famil

—————————————————————————

✅️My campaign is vetted by el-shab-hussein& Nabulsi's, my number verified on the list is ( #355)✅️ 👇

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview

——————————————————————————

4K notes View Post

autqmn

1 month ago

starting ep nagi after reading the newest chapter of the main bllk manga and the FORESHADOWING om it was ALL there 😭

Bluelock chapter 298 spoilers

Interesting direction with nagi leaving could be that he ends up on another team and plays against Japan in the world cup, with episode nagi following his progression there.

I think this has the potential to be actually genius, to give fans another team to root for (think haikyuu) which would in turn make the overall conflict even more intense, with higher stakes, plus getting more people to read episode nagi = 💸

Additionally, it would be really big brain if the original intention of episode nagi was to give a story in parallel about the bluelock opponents (which I guess is the actual point of episode nagi, just on a bigger scale)

Thoughts?

12 notes View Post

autqmn

5 months ago

at age seven, isagi learns two things. one, universal truths are always in the present tense (his teacher told him so), and two, you kiss the people you love (his mom told him so). knowing these, he kisses you under the slide in the playground, because he loves you, at least as he understands it at his age.

at age sixteen, isagi decides two things. one, he will become the best striker in the world, and two, he still loves you, albeit a little more than his seven year old self previously thought. but instead of kissing you, he hugs you tightly before he boards the bus to blue lock, and he takes in all the details of you. he thinks of the smell of your shampoo and the melody of your laugh while he's there, but he never tells anyone that.

at age twenty eight, isagi achieves two things. one, he wins the world cup, and two, he gives you his last name. the kiss you share at the altar is wetter and saltier than the one you shared under the slide, thanks to your tears, but his feelings engrave themselves into your memory all the same. he kisses you again for good measure, much to everyone's amusement, and wonders how his love for you is meant to stay in the present tense when it exists in all past, present, and future tenses.

2K notes View Post

autqmn

2 months ago

“𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐯𝐬. 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐡”

a/n: a lil suggestive, i've just been in the mood

isagi was supposed to be watching the game.

his teammates were scrambling across the field, calling out plays, their cleats slicing through the damp grass with precision. the crowd’s roar swelled with every near-goal, and the commentators’ voices crackled over the loudspeakers, analyzing every move.

but isagi didn’t hear any of it.

not really.

because you, his girlfriend, were sitting in the stands, wearing shorts.

god help him.

he was already distracted when he caught sight of you before the match started. he spotted you through the mass of faces, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe. but then you sat down, crossed your legs, and his brain might as well have short-circuited.

now, mid-game, his eyes kept wandering. every time he glanced toward the stands, there you were, all casual and relaxed, completely unaware of the absolute chokehold you had him in. the way your thighs pressed together, soft and golden in the sun, had him gripping his shorts a little too tightly. his mind was already halfway out of the match, imagining his hands gripping you instead.

“oi, focus,” one of his teammates barked when he nearly missed a pass.

right. the game. the reason he was here.

he cursed under his breath and forced himself to lock in. he sprinted down the field, evading two defenders, and when his teammate sent the ball sailing toward him, he struck it into the back of the net with a clean, merciless finish.

the crowd exploded. his teammates crowded around him, shouting and shoving his head playfully. isagi gave the standard nod, offered a half-smirk, and jogged back into formation.

but then his eyes were back on you.

he caught the way you clapped for him, that bright smile lighting up your face. you cheered for him like he was the only player on the field. your excitement was so sweet, so pure.

but the problem was, when you jumped a little in celebration, the flesh of your thighs shook ever so slightly.

his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek.

oh he was done for.

𐙚

after the match, you waited for him outside the stadium. you waved when you saw him, and he was on you in seconds. arms around your waist, hands gripping your hips like he didn’t want to let go. his forehead rested against yours for a moment, catching his breath, but it wasn’t from the game.

“good game, starboy,” you teased, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes.

“mhm,” he muttered, but he wasn’t paying attention. his hands were already trailing down your sides, thumbs grazing the curve of your thighs. the skin was warm beneath his calloused fingers, and his grip automatically tightened.

“yoi?” you blinked at him, puzzled by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

his fingers dragged lightly along the hem of your shorts, skimming just underneath, his touch featherlight but possessive.

“you’re messing with me,” he muttered against your temple. his voice was low, almost frustrated.

“huh?” you laughed softly, tilting your head to meet his eyes, but they were dark. glazed over with something that made your stomach flip.

“these,” he grunted, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze, “are driving me insane.”

you blinked once, twice. and then it hit you. you glanced down at your shorts, then back up at him, watching the way he practically glared at your legs like they had personally wronged him.

“oh my gosh,” you whispered, laughing. “you were staring the whole time?”

he didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. if anything, he scowled harder, like it was your fault.

“do you have any idea how distracting you are?” he asked, his voice low and slightly hoarse. he was still wearing his jersey, sweat dampening the collar. he was exhausted, but his hands stayed firm on you, as if the second he let go, you’d slip right through his fingers.

“it’s just my legs, yoi,” you teased, grinning.

his fingers flexed. “don’t.”

“don’t what?”

his eyes dragged slowly down your body, deliberately tracing the outline of your thighs. his gaze was heavy, heated, like he was memorizing every inch.

“don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

𐙚

later that night, when you were tangled up on the couch, he pulled you into his lap and made no effort to be subtle about his obsession. his hands traced the backs of your thighs with a slow, deliberate reverence, his fingertips kneading softly into your skin. when he leaned down and pressed his lips against them, you squirmed slightly, but he only held you tighter.

“stop moving,” he muttered against your skin. “let me have this.”

he was starved.

kisses pressed to the softest parts of your thighs, his teeth grazing just barely. he was mesmerized by how easily he could mark you, the way his lips left faint imprints like fleeting little bruises. you could feel the smile against your skin when you shivered slightly.

“so sensitive,” he murmured.

his fingers were slow, teasing, brushing over your thighs like he wanted to make sure he felt every inch of them. he loved how your skin dimpled under his grip, loved how warm and soft you were against his hands. and when you gave him a small, halfhearted shove, your voice barely above a whisper –

“yoi, you’re obsessed.”

he smirked against your skin.

“yeah,” he admitted without hesitation. his lips brushed your inner thigh, voice muffled against you.

“and i’m not even sorry.”

a/n: inspired by this pinterest pin lol