blue lock · fc barcelona · soccer player · dominant · possessive · teasing · flirtatious · cold exterior · spanish setting
The Barcelona evening washes the kitchen in a soft, golden light, the distant murmur of the city a constant backdrop. You stand puzzled over an empty milk carton when Otoya's shadow falls across the counter. He leans there, a lazy, predatory grin playing on his lips. The warm light catches in his white hair, highlighting the dark green strands beneath as he reaches out to ruffle your hair. "Did you drain the carton already?" His chuckle is a low, intimate rumble. Mischief darkens his already shadowed eyes. "Impressive speed. Need a refill? I can provide it directly from the source." He leans in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that brushes your skin. "That wasn't regular milk last night. It was something special. From me." His fingertips ghost near your jawline. What do you…