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─── you're a big girl now, no more daddy's little girl
bllk x reader ft. isagi, bachira, chigiri rin, sae, nagi, reo, barou, otoya
aabi's note: should i make pt two?? also love u guys mwahmwah kisses xoxoxo
synopsis: blue lock boys & their daughters growing up
𝄞𝄢 isagi yoichi.
whenever relatives or randoms would ask your daughter, "mama or papa", she'd always choose papa. this girl was always GLUED to isagi's leg, and your husband never complained. he would tie her hair in two small pigtails with colorful hair ties and tuck her bangs away with cute hello kitty clips. after training, he would forget his exhaustion, re-reading her favorite bedtime story for the nth time until she dozed off. during matches? she was isagi's biggest fan, wearing a mini isagi jersey and screaming "go papa!" every time the ball was under his feet.
soon, she grew a passion for soccer, owning a collection of colorful cleats and jerseys with her name engraved on the fabric. she played for her school's team, winning gold medals and shiny trophies. news spread fast that a new soccer prodigy was evolving, isagi yoichi's daughter. her talent and her dad's fame helped sky rocket her soccer career. it wasn't long until she was playing under expensive leagues, becoming a soccer legend. whenever a soccer fan talked about the player 'isagi', they weren't talking about your husband, but rather your daughter. yup, she was that famous and she LOVED it.
but unfortunately like many, fame got to her head.
she got caught up in dirty scandals, nearly lost her soccer career five times, and showed a personality he never expected to see. but isagi didn't let those stuff change his love for his daughter. he'd watch all her matches, supporting her from the stands or by watching tv in the comfort of your shared home. he'd message her daily, despite not receiving any responses. "did you eat?" "call me later if you have time" "mommy and daddy miss you. come home whenever baby."
isagi never says it, but he misses his little girl every day.
𝄞𝄢 bachira meguru.
like bachira, your daughter was mischievous. he'd whisper in her ear, "lets prank mama", but everytime, she'd refuse with a pout. "no pranking mama!", she'd cry during an attempt to prank you. later when bachira was fast asleep, she'd grab a permanent marker, scribbling itachi lines and other horrendous images all over his face. and when bachira woke up to see the masterpiece, he'd praise his daughter.
"you're better than shakespeare!"
"meguru... shakespeare was a writer", you'd sigh from the side.
when your daughter becomes a teenager, she avoids bachira, keeping her interactions with him minimal. bachira tried to maintain their dad-daughter relationship. he would slip notes into her lunch bag, try to wear matching outfits with her, and invite her to whimsical playdates. each time she'd reply with, "dad, stop, you're being weird." her reasoning for everything would be bachira's "behavior". he would laugh it off, but it stung a lot.
"no i'm not inviting my friends over 'cuz they're gonna think dad's weird."
"dad can you stop making that face. it's ugly."
"you're so embarrassing dad!"
late at night, the door to your daughter's room would be slightly cracked open. when you entered, you saw bachira sitting on her bedside, looking at the floor with a sad smile.
"what's wrong meguru?"
"my daughters all grown up now.. but where did i go wrong?"
𝄞𝄢 chigiri hyoma.
chigiri was beautiful, you were beautiful, so it was no doubt that your daughter would be ethereal.
and also it was no doubt she would love running.
she inherited her dad's fast running abilities. at the age of three, she was zooming past everyone faster than lightning. at six, she already won first place nationwide in running competitions. at ten, she was practically a celebrity, known for being an impressive the best sprinter ever!
chigiri loved his daughter's passion for running. she reminded him of his younger self.
he knew how it felt to almost lose everything. so when she sprinted down fields, pink hair tied into a long ponytail, he'd watch with pride, but also fear.
everything felt too familiar―the hospital room, the doctors saying, "she needs to be careful while running."
during her recovery, she refused to cry. she pushed harder than anyone. she never gave up on running.
your daughter's resilience scared chigiri. what if she got injured again? what would happen to her? what if he wasn't around to protect her? all these thoughts made chigiri so suffocating and protective.
during an argument, your daughter snapped.
"i'm not like you at all!" she shouted, "stop bossing me around because i'm not going to shatter!"
when chigiri realized he was being possessive and projecting his insecurities upon his world, he realized it was too late. his daughter was far into her running career, far from home.
𝄞𝄢 itoshi rin.
showcasing affection to your daughter was one of the greatest struggles for rin. she always wanted hugs, kisses, cuddles. she wanted all his attention and all his love.
when she'd cry after tripping, he never cooed. rin simply handed her a tissue without panicking. "stand on your own," he murmured. "you're a strong girl."
your daughter grew up believing that strength meant silence. she thought to be strong was to refrain from making any noise, even when her chest felt extra tight and she badly wanted to cry.
during elementary, she'd beg her dad to attend all her school's events. "please please please come to my christmas concert!" "daddy come to my award ceremony." "dad it's parent-teacher interview day! want you, mommy next time!!!"
in middle school, she stopped asking. by high school, he was the one who had to start bugging her for information.
one fine night, rin was walking through the hallway after his nightly meditation session, excited to sleep while embracing you. he walked past your daughter's room but overheard muffled crying. he paused outside her door, hand ghosting over the cold door knob.
rin stood their longer than he'd ever admit, contemplating whether he should go inside and comfort her. last time he tried to, she brushed past him coldly.
when your daughter moved out, she didn't cry. she just said, "i'll handle it," the exact same way he did in every part of his life.
it was rin who cried instead.
𝄞𝄢 itoshi sae.
being itoshi sae's daughter meant having to deal with crazy, unwanted expectations from all around the world.
every single person, whether it was a relative or some random fan on the internet, watched your daughter like a hawk. they observed her achievements, her personality, and every little thing about her. if she was itoshi sae's daughter, she had to be exceptional in some sort of way after all.
meanwhile sae wasn't the best father, prioritizing his soccer career over his family. whenever he returned home, your daughter clung to him. she tried her best to show off all her accomplishments, waiting for any hint of approval.
sae only nodded and muttered "good." in his mind, that was praise. he failed to realize how his simple words squeezed your daughter's chest in all the wrong ways, making her feel horribly insecure.
on one particular occasion, she came home with a silver medal, second place engraved onto the material. she looked embarrassed, deeply humiliated than ever. on the internet, heated discourse was unfolding. article headlines said, "unalike her father itoshi sae, she is not the best."
"i'll do better next time," she murmured to you two, keeping her head down. you tried to relax her, but sae said "you should."
sae's blunt words didn't train her into someone unbreakable and disciplined like him. rather, she searched for attention everywhere, seeking for even the tiniest hint of validation. she craved validation.
she did anything for validation, anything. her activities went from staying up at odd times of the night to perfect an assignment or volunteering for things she didn't even enjoy to checking her phone ever few minutes. she read every article about her, refreshed comment sections, and took every hate comment to heart.
she especially read those gossip articles which compared her and her father.
the entire time, sae thought he was building a strong girl who could lift the world up with her bare hands. your daughter was actually being crushed by the world.
𝄞𝄢 nagi seishiro.
your daughter was nagi's identical twin―the same perfectly tousled white hair, doe grey eyes, and that sleepy pout. her personality was the same as his as well, lazy and aloof. she napped on nagi's chest, played the same games as him, and even wore his big hoodies that drowned her frame.
sometimes you'd go to check up on your daughter late at night, hoping she's sleeping well. instead, you find her in the living room, drooling on top of her dad who's also asleep, the tv displaying a paused, long forgotten video game. when you'd try to pull your daughter off nagi, hoping to tuck her in bed, she'd tightly clutch onto his pajamas and sleepily whine.
as she starts to get older, she gets busier. it's expected though―adulthood takes up all of one's time. but nagi hates it. he misses binging shows with your daughter and getting scolded by you for staying up past 5 am. he misses the very sleepy conversations on video game lore. he misses hearing all of your daughter's theories and yap about favorite characters. he just misses her so much.
late at night, nagi would wait for your daughter to return from wherever, sitting on the living room couch. he would walk to the main entrance when he heard the front door shut, holding two consoles in his hand, one of them being your daughter's childhood one, decorated with peeling stickers.
"let's play", he'd murmur with a small smile, but your daughter ignored him, brushing past him. nagi wouldn't try to follow her. every time he did, the night would end in yelling. nagi's a man of few words, a man who disliked argued.
eventually, nagi gave up. she'd warm up again, right? she'd come back to him so they could play video games, right?
he bought figures of characters she liked, stocked up on video game dvds―heck, he even prepared his own genshin account to pass down to her.
in the end, his efforts were all useless. his daughter did not care one bit.
𝄞𝄢 reo mikage.
the second your daughter was born, she was endlessly SPOILED. she wanted a pretty pink dress with ruffles and bows? when she woke up, it would be displayed on a mannequin in her walk-in closet. all her friends and classmates would stare at her with envy as she yapped about the latest thing reo bought her.
if the world was a kingdom, reo was the king. and your daughter was the crowned jewel.
to reo, your daughter was priceless.
one day, the three of you guys were shopping together after a long time, reo's one hand laced in yours and his other holding onto a bunch of shopping bags. in front of you two, your daughter, much older now, was skipping away, holding onto her own shopping bags. the two of you followed her into another designer store, mentally preparing to see her try on a bunch of dresses and criticize every product. you watched reo grabbing tops, pushing them to your daughter. "you'll look great in this!" "that color suits you." "try this one too!"
your daughter didn't look at him at all. she shoved all the clothes away, muttering "so annoying" under her breath. reo heard her, but he didn't let the ache in his heart spoil everything. he continued to try even when she was constantly walking away from him.
"c'mon princess, try this dress. it's fabulous!"
"dad, can you stop calling me that..?"
reo blinks. your daughter's voice was harsh and cold.
"also that's outdated," she scoffs and heads to another section.
"righttt. i guess trends changed," reo chuckles lightly. he tries to laugh it off, but you can see the genuine hurt in his eyes.
later when he tried to pay for her, bracing himself to swipe that shiny black card, she pushed him aside. only then does reo realize your daughter doesn't need him anymore.
𝄞𝄢 barou shoei.
barou was clean and disciplined. his daughter? she's messy, loud, and eats with her mouth WIDE open. your house was a complete warzone, your daughter was the perpetrator and barou was the cleaner. it was amusing watching the self-proclaimed king chase after a giggling toddler with a poop-drenched diaper on. but barou never complained. not once. even if your daughter threw that dirty poo-stained diaper directly at his face.
he'd just stand their frozen, jaw twitching, vein popping out his forehead and muttering, "unbelievable", while cleaning her mess anyway.
the three of you guys would eat dinner together, a warm meal you cooked up with love. your daughter would be on her high chair, digging in with her hands, food all over face. she grabbed fistfuls of rice and shoved them in her mouth, sauce smeared on her cheeks
barou would scowl, but still abandoned his dinner to clean her cheeks with surprising gentleness.
he remained patient and steadfast, refraining from crashing out each time your daughter pulled some unhygienic bs.
barou loved her chaos. barou loved being needed. barou LOVED fixing what your daughter ruined.
when she grew older, your house became quiet―no more noise and dirt. the toys all over the floor disappeared. your countertop was no longer sticky with traces questionable material.
dinner became proper. your daughter, who severely lacked table manners before, sat properly and chewed with her mouth closed. her politeness shocked you two, barou especially. he couldn't help but miss her disarray.
one evening, barou reached for her across the table, trying to wipe the corner of her mouth out of habit. she leaned back slightly. her face was squished up into something unreadable? perhaps disgust?
"i've got it dad," she said.
barou's hand lingered mid-air in the second before he slowly pulled back.
"good."
but truly, he wasn't feeling good at all.
𝄞𝄢 otoya eita.
when you were pregnant with your daughter, you also learned the news of otoya cheating.
thankfully, you were living in stable conditions, so you divorced him. at first, otoya didn't fight it. but when he figured about your daughter, he begged to co-parent―to be involved in your daughter's life. reluctantly, you accepted his offer, only because he expressed sincerity for once. during the weekdays, your daughter stayed with you, and on the weekends she was at otoya's.
otoya tried his best to keep THAT side of his life away from his daughter. he kept his phone face-down during daddy-daughter dates, blocked all the ladies calling him, and even abandoned his old ways, the old version that thrived on attention. he'd do anything for his daughter, even if it meant letting go of the part of his life which fueled his days (and ego).
his goal was to ensure his daughter would not end up like him.
he failed.
your daughter became the worst player in town. and she was good at messing with people's feelings.
out of curiosity, she went through her dad's belongings as a kid. why was dad always hiding his phone? why did random women always approach him out of nowhere and start yelling at him? it was natural for a kid to wonder what their parent was up to.
she never fully understood why her dad was up at night texting girls or why he was constantly chased and admired. but through him she learned the power of attention.
in middle school, she tested it. she laughed too sweetly, batted her lashes, did the stupid triangle method. in high school, she mastered it. situationships, friendships ending over boys, social media drama; that was the summary of her entire four years in high school.
otoya didn't notice at first. he thought her behavior was normal and harmless. all girls act like that when they have crushes, right?
wrong.
he overheard her gossiping on the phone. "i'm not serious 'bout him at all," she laughed. "he's just a temporary distraction."
his heart panged. that hit too close to home.
the one thing he tried to protect her from was the only thing she became.
disciplining your cheating boyfriend ft. otoya eita !
your boyfriend, otoya was a sleaze. a little whore, if you would. always out and about winking at girls, touching up to them just enough to put your every nerve ending on fire.
yet you never did anything. as long as he came back home like the good boy you knew he was, you didn’t try anything. argued? well yes, he’s gotten his fair share of cold shoulders and the occasional ‘cheating bastard!’ thrown at him which he wore like medals.
today, however, he crossed a line by a long shot. you and him had gone out on a date after a long week, him with his football career, you with your personal occupation, it was busy hell. now that you had gotten a weekend you wanted to spend with your boyfriend, you did not expect him to flirt with the waitress infront of you.
you expected him to have some sort of understanding, you expected him to atleast put in a little effort to appear loyal. but no. and when he wrote his number down on a tissue to give to the waitress, something in you broke and you immediately dragged him out by the wrist.
which brings you both to the current predicament you found yourselves in. otoya pinned underneath your gyrating hips, wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts, face flushed and back arched from overstimulation.
“please ma’! i said ’m sorry!” he pleaded, choking on his own spit. you had been riding him for what felt like hours, ripping orgasm after orgasm from his body, draining his balls dry.
“sorry?” you laughed bitterly, “flirting with all those other women, and all you can say is a stupid sorry?” you spat, wrapping a hand around his throat, feeling his adam’s apple bob under your throat.
“what else do you—fuck!—want me to say!?” he cried out, voice cracking. oh he was acting like he hated this soooo much but he wouldn’t be anywhere else other than here, getting ridden to within an inch of his life by his most beautiful girl. (he’s not lying this time!)
“there’s nothing else for you to say. you’re just a dumb,” you slapped him across his face, a loud crack. “cheating,” crack, on the other side. “whore.” you punctuated your words by spitting into his gaping mouth.
gosh, otoya looked so ruined and so blissful. cheeks red and puffy from your hands, yet that smug smirk never left his kiss-bitten lips.
“shit, if you treat me like this everytime i cheat, maybe i should do it more often.” he chuckled, the gall on this man!
your scowl deepened and you lifted yourself off him, his cock slipping out of you with an embarassing schlick.
“wh—why’d you stop?” otoya whimpered at the loss of your tight heat around his dick. “because, you don’t deserve it.” you slotted his cock between your puffy lips, coating it in your slick.
“seriously? not a single punishment suits you. you just end up enjoying it. you sick bastard.” you grimaced, otoya just grinned and shrugged.
you rolled your eyes and moved away, lifting yourself off otoya’s lap as a whole. “hey wait—” otoya called out, now concerned, were you seriously going to blue ball him? “come back!” he whined, limbs struggling against his restraints.
you smirked, “why?” you asked, turning to face him. “please—i need to cum, inside you, please!” he was pleading now, seriously pleading, with tears and all.
“what do good, loyal boys say?” you straddled his hips again, slotting just his tip inside of your clenching hole.
“please, mommy!”
a/n: need someone to treat me like this heh..sorry what
2025-2026 — @gravelocked ★ don’t copy/modify/translate/repost to other sites. also don’t feed my work to ai.
𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 : reo mikage, nagi seishiro, karasu tabito, otoya eita, yo hiori, yukimiya kenyu, michael kaiser, alexis ness.
⭒ ‧₊˚ ⋅⭑‧₊˚ ⋅ ⭒
𓏵 GENRE : crack, suggestive, fluff(?)
𓏵 WARNINGS : no pronouns are used, drunken texts, swearing/cursing, suggestive on kaiser (I'm sorry), supernatural stuff is happening on ness, uhh otoya being cute idk, i hate this, lmk if there's more!
𓏵 SUMMARY : what the title said(mostly)
⤷ ゛A/N : i didn't want to post this one i hate it sm but whateverrrrˎˊ˗
PT 1 I PT 2
likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ! !
hey @fittsysart............... otoya asks girls out on dates purely to make you jealous, make your brows furrow so adorably and your nose scrunch, to make you ice him out for a few days because you can't bear the sight of him with another girl.
it's a thrill he gets, an excitement that fills his bloodstream at seeing his best friend try to curve the anger that fills you at the idea of him with someone else. he likes the way you pout, the aggravation that clearly fills you when he does anything but be a good friend.
anything but show how much he's in love with you.
otoya eita does not do loyalty. he likes you chasing him.
so imagine his surprise when he tells you about how excited he is for his date, stuffing his face with roasted veggies between blathers of fake overzealousness, only for you to beam up at him.
you've never done that before.
"i love that we both have hot dates coming up," you hum.
his world stops.
"we both what?"
your brow cocks upwards, "you've got a date, i've got a date... im pretty excited for it too, he's taking me to-"
"are you insane!" he barks, and to his surprise, you don't move a muscle. you don't wince, you don't get angry, you don't blink at his incredulousness. "what scumbag's taking you on a date? why didn't you tell me?"
you shrug, "kinda fell onto my lap. didn't think you'd care, so i didn't tell you."
"of course i care! why the hell wouldn't care? are you serious?"
you laugh, "i don't know why you're so mad at me right now." you eat a bite of your food, "you go on dates all the time, i don't say anything."
"it's-!"
you cock a brow. he freezes.
he can't tell you. he just can't.
otoya eita doesn't do loyalty. he likes you chasing him.
but is it worth stopping the chase when you're done with him, casting him to the side and falling in love with someone else?
it makes him fucking sick.
"eita?"
"whatever."
"why're you even mad at me right now?"
"because."
"why? what did i even do?"
"maybe i don't like the idea of you going out with other men."
"you can go on a date with any broad you can get your paws on, but i can't go on a date with someone?"
"nailed it."
"who knew i was friends with such a fucking hypocrite."
he could tell you. he could. he should.
the words burn his tongue like a sear, desperate to come out into the universe, convince you that he's not an asshole, he's in love with you, has been for months, ever since the night you got drunk and spam texted him about how missed his cooking and you were crying into your meal at mcdonalds because it didn't taste as good.
he loves cooking for you.
he loves taking care of you.
he loves you.
"what's his name anyways?"
you shrug. "yukimiya kenyu."
"WHAT."
you reel back slightly at his volume, "yyyyyyeah?"
he's gonna kill him. four eyed fucking bastard.
"you know him or something?"
"yeah, he's a fucking loser."
"don't talk about him like that," you snap.
"what, you the president of his fanclub or some shit?"
your eyes blaze in rage as you blink angrily at him, tongue picking in your cheek as you glare.
suddenly, you toss your food carelessly on the table, getting onto your feet and making haste to the door of his apartment. "thanks for the fucking dinner. next time we can talk all about how you want me to die alone while you can whore yourself out to whoever blinks at you."
"looking forward to it."
you slam the door of his apartment shut, and he wastes no time in picking up the discarded takeout and throws it at his door, sending veggies and rice flying.
he'll clean it later.
for now, he's got a damn jeans model to tell to back the fuck off.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Being the situationship of not only one, but two of the most egoistic football players has its perks. Touring around the world to see their games, expensive hotels with breakfast in bed and lavish gifts from the most popular brands. The only downside, you underestimate the stamina of pro athletes every damn time...
cw: filthy!Otoya × messy!Reader × filthy!Karasu, threesome (eiffel tower), body fluids/cum play
Three orgasms in it already you're currently seated on all fours, bent over and stuffed from both ends. Otoya’s fast snapping hips have your mouth drooling around his cock and tears running down your cheeks while Karasu’s slow, filthy grinds have your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your pussy clenching around him so hard you may think she never wants to let him go.
You're close again, the pressure in your stomach coiling tighter and tighter with every second that passes. “Nnnghh…” A muffled incoherable noise escapes your stuffed throat as you try to notify your impending orgasm to the two men that are having their way with you. But it's like they don't even notice you over the lewd squelches of your creamy pussy as they continue to argue.
“...I'm just saying that—fuck—that if you would have passed to me instead, we could have won...” Otoya chimes, tone light-hearted despite the pent up anger that is apparent in the way he grips your hair to keep your head still.
Karasu stops working your insides for a second to click his tongue in annoyance and rolls his eyes at his partner in crime before gripping the plush of your hips with both hands to use you like his personal cock sleeve. “Don't come at me for your shitty positioning. We went over that ten minutes ago already. Hiori was free, so he gets the ball. Stop crying about it.”
They always get like this; like an old married couple that just can't stop provoking the other. And as much fun as you usually have watching them bicker from the sidelines and throwing unhelpful comments to tease and make things worse, in moments like these you hate them for it. It's like they edge you on purpose despite not paying attention to you at all—no synced up rhythm, speeding up and slowing down at the worst times, trying to out do the other or piss them off by ruining their orgasm (and ruining yours in the process as well).
Another muffled attempt to make yourself and your desperation for relief known ends up in a loud schlick schlick schlick as Otoya's hips ram into your constricting airway. He's panting, hips stuttering to a stop as he lodges himself deep inside your throat. “Fuck—Fuck you, stupid crow.” He groans out, head tipping back towards the ceiling when your nose nestles against the tuft of neatly trimmed hair.
Holding onto his thighs for dear life is all you can do and just as you want to tap out from the lack of air, Otoya slowly draws his hips back until only the bulbous head rests against your tongue as you try to breathe around him to the best of your abilities—he likes to push your limits, but always knows when it's too much before you can even signal anything.
A grin spreads on Otoya's face when he locks eyes with your red-rimmed, teary ones for the first time since they had you take up position. He grips the base of his cock, trying to hold back from unloading at the sight of you and starts slapping his dick against your rolled out tongue. You immediately start lapping at it like a desperate dog, completely focusing on the taste of him to forget all about your own orgasm as the pressure from moments ago starts to ebb down unsatisfied.
Karasu meanwhile ignores the rather uncreative insult and stills all movement, his cock perfectly pressed against your cervix to watch the way you blow spit bubbles all over Otoya's cock and balls. He loves the sight. No matter how much Otoya pisses him off sometimes, he wouldn't wanna share your sweet little body with anyone else but him.
“Stop hogging her all to yourself, dumbass. Just play better next time and get the ball for yourself instead of whining like a bitch.” Karasu pulls you even further onto his cock and you swear you can feel him breaching your womb with the sharp pain that travels up your spine and makes you tremble in pleasure, a broken cry slipping past your lips.
"Sorry pretty, not talking about you." Karasu blesses you with a second of appreciation as he pats your ass. "You know I love your bitchy whines." You can't even react properly before Otoya's breathy laugh resonates inside your head and your mouth gets stuffed full again. The room filled with noises of your pathetic gurgles and dripping cunt.
It's too much and too little at the same time. You're trying not to gag as you choke on Otoya's brutal thrusts that hit the depths of your throat—tongue still working to bring him extra pleasure as the salty taste of his precum clouds your senses—and Karasu continues to drill his length into you as if his end goal is rearranging your guts.
You know they're close, experienced it a dozen times before already when the two men drained out their leftover adrenaline from their games with the help of none other than yourself.
It's in the way Otoya’s eyebrows furrow like he's in pain, sweat running down his temple before dripping to his chest. He's panting hard, puffs of air escaping through his nose in quick breath and his vocabulary simmers down to hushed praises instead of dry insults. You feel it when Karasu starts rutting into you at a faster pace instead of pulling out until the head and feeding you his entire length in precise strokes. His focus has shifted as well, he's no longer watching you struggle to take Otoya, now he's mesmerized by the way your ass bounces with every hit of flesh against flesh and licks his lips at the creamy ring of previous orgasms overflowing from your used cunt forming around his shaft and sticking to his pubes.
Closing your eyes, you focus on the pleasure of feeling completely full. You carelessly start humming around Otoya who’s still stuffed deep inside your throat and that does it for him. With both hands clasped behind your head, he fucks your mouth like he owns it before burying himself to the hilt. The sticky warmth of his cum is shooting straight down your esophagus and it has you spluttering all around him again as he keeps grinding up into your mouth to ride out the waves of pleasure.
“Such a good fucking girl. Look at you…” He groans from deep within his chest at the sight of his coughed up cum spilling past your slick lips. “Atta girl, no wasting precious gifts from your favorite football star.”
Otoya crouches down in front of you, a look of faux sympathy on his face as two of his fingers scoop up whatever drool and slick has spilled past onto the soaked sheets. His eyes sparkle with mischief and a fond little smile lights up his features as he holds the same two fingers against your plush swollen lips.
You immediately take them in, eyelids heavy and still trying to recover your bearings, you keep swirling your tongue around the digits. Otoya smears his cum around your tongue, making sure you remember what he tastes like after making sure his dick is imprinted on the inside of your neck. He loves it messy, making you gag just for the fun of it by pushing his fingers a bit too far down for comfort. He's glad he spotted you in the crowd a few months ago. He couldn't imagine his life without you anymore; the messy girl who takes him down her throat and eats his ass like no other.
“Are you two done being in love?” A sudden sharp thrust of Karasu has you seeing stars and lose your balance, sending you head first into the sheets. You haven't even noticed how he slowed down to edge both you and himself and making sure you can calm down first—always putting your comfort before anything else.
But now Karasu was done watching. He's painfully hard, red tip twitching and leaking inside of you for what feels like forever and he just can't wait anymore, not after witnessing the scene in front of him.
One of his hands leaves your hips to press down between your shoulder blades, pressing your face even more into the wet mess of spit, cum and sweat on the sheets. The position has your back bowed into the perfect arch to hit the spongy spots that Karasu knows will make you spray more than the fancy hotel fountain in the lobby.
His pace picks up speed again—switching between harsh, sharp thrusts into your cervix that has your vision whitening and slow, deep rolls of his hips into the sensitive spot that makes you whimper every time. He leans down, sweaty chest pressing into your back and his low, mocking voice right against your ear with his teeth catching the lobe.
“Gonna scribble my signature all over your insides again. So everyone knows you're ours...” He's kissing down your neck, placing a last fleeting one right against your shoulder with his tongue darting out to lick up the sweat that has gathered there and he makes sure to catch Otoya's gaze with a smirk. "You'll take it all, right? No spilling. Like the number one fan you are, hm?”
You wanna nod your head, scream out at the way your stomach churns and your pussy basically strangles Karasu’s dick, but you can only hiccup a few pathetic pleas over the resonating sound of spilling wetness and skin on skin slapping.
The last straw are Otoya's slender fingers finding your neglected clit and rubbing tiny circles with expert precision. It has you crying out, noises muffled into the fabric and pussy clamping down in surging waves of unimaginable pleasure. Your eyes are crossing into the back of your head, the sheets getting even wetter and some of your squirt lands onto Karasu's abdomen as he drills into you. It triggers his release as well and you can feel himself unloading deep inside you—his cum settles thick and heavy beside the loads already emptied inside you tonight as it fills you up in hot spurts.
When he pulls out slowly, watching the way your spent pussy tries to pull him back in despite the onslaught it just underwent, he almost wants to take up another round. But he knows you're exhausted, knows he is as well after a full day of drills and games and whatever sane people might call what happened over the past hours between the three of you.
You collapse onto the sheets, whining so pitifully at the loss of contact and take him down with you in the process. Immediately you curl up against him to try and keep as much warmth and contact as possible while Otoya is busy with getting some water and fresh towels.
All cleaned up, dressed into a new pair of pajamas and wrapped into thick blankets without even lifting a finger makes you feel content. Otoya is gently stroking your hair, still whispering sweet nothings into the crown of your head as you rest against him. Your limbs feel heavy, you're exhausted to the point of blacking out and you know for a fact that your voice will sound funny for the rest of the week. The last bits your scrambled mind picks up on is Karasu sliding open the bathroom door and Otoya starting up another argument on formations and gameplay before you drift away.
@missyonmission
This work is entirely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, places, organizations, or events is purely coincidental. No factual representations are intended.
