#sub bllk

"No, like seriously. Did you see it? I've never had this much fun playing a game, hamster!" Shidou giggles like a little kid as the TV shows a replay of their U-20 match. "You see that? We were in perfect sync! You see that? My goal was amazing!"

You just shake your head, keeping Shidou from falling off the couch in joy. The game was awesome, yeah, and you're glad he had fun and you finally got to see each other after a couple months of him being there.

"Yeah, it was good. You did great."

Ryusei just hums contentedly, finally calming down and laying his head on your lap, looking at the screen.

"Yeah, he even gave me his number. And we—"

"Wait, he what? He gave you his damn number?" you ask, interrupting him, trying to keep your voice more amazed than annoyed. It's just platonic, of course, platonic. Just as friends, yeah.

"Yeah. He hasn't responded to any of my messages, but at least he hasn't blocked me, so that's something..." He shrugs, and you nod. Yeah, Ryusei is just having fun. He just found someone who understands his style of play and doesn't think it's weird, doesn't try to limit him. It's normal. Totally normal.

...

Well, it was normal for a while.

One month later.

"Where have you been?" you ask, turning around to see the door opening.

"Oh, me and Sae were training! I talked him into training, can you believe it?"

"Yeah... It was cool. How did it go?"

Two months later.

"Sorry, I can't... Sae asked me on the walk."

"Sae called...?"

"I was surprised as hell myself, parrot! I never expected it!"

Three months later.

"He was looking at those seagulls in such a funny way. Like they were some kind of symbol of peace for him."

"Yeah..."

"Hey! He asked me to go for a walk along the seashore, I'll bring you a shell, do you want one?"

And so it went on for a few months. You tolerated it, really. He spent too much time with him, which was quite adequate. They were both athletes, unlike you. They had a common interest and... Well, they played perfectly together.

You didn't see anything wrong with it, because Shidou still paid attention to you, even if not as much as before. Until one evening.

He came home late again. Probably too late. You brushed your teeth while he took a shower, wondering what could have kept him so long.

"...Where were you, Ryu?" a question escapes your lips as he steps out of the shower, not bothering to cover himself as he wipes his locks.

"Oh, we were at the beach. And we were skinny dipping... Damn, you should have seen him..."

Shidou was still talking, but you couldn't hear him anymore. The word "naked" kept playing in your head. If they were skinny dipping like that, they could theoretically do other things, right? You couldn't know for sure.

"Did you... Like what you saw?"

"Of course! Who would look at Sae Itoshi and say he's not fucking hot?" Shidou chuckles, clapping you on the shoulder and walking into the bedroom.

Hot. Of course Sae is hot. That's the problem.

Your heart clenches like it's being clenched in an icy fist when you hear that word - hot. Not "handsome," not "attractive," but that scorching, obscene "hot." It rolls off your boyfriend's lips so easily, so casually, as if it were thrown casually at a random passerby, but you know it's not. It falls right into the center of you, burning a hole in the very confidence you've worked so hard to build, brick by brick.

This feeling. It's not a sudden fire, but a slow, smoldering burn that starts with a barely noticeable spark and gradually engulfs everything around it. At first it's just a fleeting sting, a slight doubt whispering in the back of your mind: "What if..." Then it grows, sending roots into every thought, into every memory. You remember his smile, addressed to that other one. You remember his laughter, caused by someone else's joke. Every touch now seems deceptive, every word - a lie.

Insecurity turns into a black sticky fog that covers everything around, distorting reality. You look in the mirror and see not the one you love, but only your shortcomings, magnified a thousand times. Wrinkles seem deeper, the body less perfect, the mind less sharp. Questions swarm in your head, from which there is no escape: "Am I good enough? Am I interesting enough? Why is he with me at all?"

In this shaky world, where you are your own enemy, every action of your partner is perceived as confirmation of your worst fears. A look that lingers on him a little longer than necessary becomes a betrayal. A compliment given to him is proof of your worthlessness. You look for signs, evidence, confirmation, and, as often happens, you find them where they are not.

You are suffocating from bitterness, from resentment, from the fear of losing. You want to scream, demand, accuse. You want to leave so as not to see how he looks at another. I want to hide, to not feel so insignificant. I want to wipe Sae off the face of the earth... Or maybe yourself.

But no. You're not some loser who's going to wallow in self-loathing. You're just going to show your boyfriend who he should really be clinging to.

And here we are.

"My little poppy seed bun, what are you—" he blurts out, but he's cut off by your push, and he winces in pain, clutching the pillow under his head with a whimper.

"Talk," you whisper, and he looks at you blankly, to which you just click your tongue. "Your fantasies about me."

"But— Oh, no, not, fuck, there, nooooot there..."

Ryusei groans hoarsely, clenching around your cock, which is hitting exactly the right spot aggressively, and his eyes close, tears and gods forming on his lashes. It's wonderful.

"Talk... Or I'll stop."

This seemed to invigorate him, because he involuntarily squeezed once more, as if wanting to suck you in even deeper and never let go. He exhaled, squeezing your shoulders, leaving light marks with his nails there.

"I... I often im-imagine that you would fuck me on the football field, you know? It's sooooo... Fucking aro-arousing to me. Or, hnnng..." he cuts off when your hand squeezes his neck and he swallows, feeling your fingers tighten their grip slightly. "I imagine that we are two pigeons and I become, uh, fat? You know, when they start making those sounds and swell up a little. And then for that you would— Ow! For what?"

"What the hell kind of fantasy is this?" you ask, looking at his thigh, where there was a light mark from your slap, and Shido laughs breathlessly.

"I'm kidding, I'm kiiiidding... Mmm, sometimes I im-imagine the two of us, like... You know, a forbidden, aggh, romance. Like, poor and rich... I like that power imbalance... Fuck!"

Ryusei clings to your arm as your hand tightens around his neck, though it doesn't cut off his oxygen supply. Your thrusts are slow, maybe too slow, but so fucking deep that it feels like he's going to have a bruise on his stomach tomorrow.

"Tell me I'm better. Go ahead."

"W-what? Better than who?" Ryusei tilts his head to the side, as much as your position allows, throwing one of his legs over your waist.

"Sae."

Shidou's eyes immediately widen when he hears that body and he laughs, though he immediately groans and tries to calm down once he feels that he's actually started moving on your cock and eventually he's just hiccupping on your cock. Literally.

"Are you jealous?" he asks between sharp breaths, smiling like the idiot he is right now.

"Yeah, you two are too close... You... Always talk about him so well and..." You feel tears forming in your eyes and Shidou immediately softens, grabbing your cheeks, trying to ignore your thrusts that absolutely didn't want to stop despite the delicate situation.

His fingers slide over your eyelashes, wiping away the moisture there and smearing it across your cheeks with a goofy smile. His pink eyes are now filled with an absolutely indescribable tenderness that rarely shows in him.

"I love you, dummy. I really do. I'll cut back on our contact if need be... He's fucking cool, but you? You're absolutely stunning, gorgeous princess dick."

And just like that, his lips are on yours. So loving, so gentle, so savoring. So fucking yours.

You both stop moving except for your tongues against each other until you pull away, your lungs running out of air.

"Are you calm now? Now fuck me properly. I haven't even started telling you a fantasy about me lying on a beach in the Maldives and then you show up, serial foot sniffer, and fuck me in them and then kidnap me and I give you twenty-eight kids and thirty-three cats and then—"

his muscular body bumps against the creaking chair, shaking, quivering to the point of no return. he wants that stupid mask off. he is no dog, why should he wear this muzzle.

what kind of humiliation ritual is this?

kaiser's sturdy arms yank at his cuffs, huffing and puffing like a big ol' canine that can't escape from a cage. "ready to apologize?"

"what is there to apol- uhgg-gizeee forrr?" his dick weeps when you lean close to his face, your lips inches away from the muzzle. you're so close, he can feel your breath fan through the mask. his half lidded gaze falls upon your lips. "uhm- ahh... s-sorry?"

your eyes narrow. his bratty behavior can't be excused so easily, not when he can't even sound sincere. "you can do better than that, darling."

"come onnn," his voice breaks with a whine, "touch me again, i already 'pologized!!"

"nope." your thumb circles around the areola of his nipple, he flinches with a violent gasp. "we'll stay here until you pass out from sheer pleasure."

“You think you can fucking get away with every shit you do, huh?”

Everything in you felt hot — from your temper, your own blood, and the rising tent in your pants. Your unbearable temper and arousal made it harder for you to think. Harder to control yourself.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re jealous over the smallest shit?” A bitter laugh came out of Shidou as he tried to push your hand away from his wrist, yet it only made your grip tighter — and it made you drag him into your shared room rougher. 

“The fuck do you mean, “smallest shit”? You were all up on Sae like a fucking whore, can’t even score any goals without his stupid passes.” 

You growled out your response, sending shivers down your lover’s spine. He tried to reciprocate the same enraged tone, but his aching core made it difficult for him to keep his stance stronger.

“N- not my fucking fault, he’s a better player than you, maybe if you didn’t think with your fucking dick, then I could’ve scored more goals with your passes.”

He spat out with mischief — not knowing the consequences he was about to face. Both of you were driven by the aftermath of a lost game and the sexual tension you had when he started ‘insulting’ you inside the men's locker room.

Now, you were dragging him to the room of your shared apartment, dragging him and throwing him on the bed without any remorse — without any room left for gentleness.

You didn’t even give him the chance to speak again; you shoved his face into the bed, earning a loud, struggling groan from him.

“I’m the one thinking with my dick? Really? And even if I was, I bet you’d fucking kneel down and suck it.” A laugh sparked from your throat, pushing his face on the mattress harder and pressing your aching bulge on his ass. Letting him feel every detail of your boner, letting him feel your hunger to ravish him. 

You thrusted your hips, roughly slamming your hips against his ass. The fabric was the only thing restraining you from roughly fucking his hole. And the fact that you weren’t doing it right now only made your impatience grow. Yet you wanted him to feel the built-up tension he had given you. You wanted him to feel the intensity of your anger. 

You grabbed a handful of his hair, roughly pulling it until his back arched beautifully and his ass was pressed into your hips harder — making him let out a sharp moan. 

“I’ll fuck you until you can’t think of anything else other than my fucking dick.”

“S- shit, ah-a– aah! S- slow don— Ngh– Aah!”

Shidou’s ass bounced with your every thrust, and his voice came out ragged and worn from the countless times he screamed your name.

Your dick plowed in him, drilling his like there was no tomorrow. You groaned as his walls squeezed your dick in — thrusting harder and rougher. Giving his prostate no mercy as you abused it again and again for hours.

“Now you want me to fucking slow down? Look at you, smiling and moaning from my dick, I don’t think you really want me to stop, yeah?”

You slapped his ass, making him whimper weakly — his upper body now limp as you held his ass up for you to ravish. A drunken smile was plastered on his face, too dazed to even notice that his face told a completely different story from everything he was saying.

Your palm collided with his ass, getting even redder from your palms, and your hips roughly slamming onto his ass. 

You left him no room or time to breathe and catch up. Before he could even notice and prepare, just when he came, you slammed your hips as deep as you could — your twitching cock releasing all the pent-up cum you’ve been holding back.

His tongue lolled out of his panting mouth, eyes rolling back to his skull until his head started to spin around. His whole mind was fucked, making him unable to speak properly and babble nonsense. Ass bouncing on your cock weakly as you filled his hole up with your cum until it started to leak, yet your hips were still slamming into him at a rough pace. 

His legs started trembling, his own dick shooting a thin string of cum whilst he moaned out loud. 

“Fucking slut.”

You pulled out, watching him tremble and release his own fluid — his own legs struggling to keep himself up as it shook like a leaf. His hole was left with a huge gape, twitching from the aftershocks of your rough thrusts and huge cock — now filled with your sticky and thick cum. Filling his hole until he could feel the warmth of your fluids reach the deepest parts of his insides.

He collapsed on the bed, shaking, a fucked out expression was plastered on his face — too dazed to fix his crossed eyes and drooling mouth. Too dazed to notice you positioning yourself behind him again.

He's a pervert.

He's sick, pathetic, a degenerate, a thirsty blood hound who can't help but have a crush on you — his new neighbor.

Ugh, it's sickening. He likes someone so young, with so much potential ahead, and much less life experience.

He tells himself to turn away.

He is in denial of you. Not so much being 'in denial', more so — refusing to push his feelings any further.

He's accepted his feelings.

Sure, yes, he does think you're quite charming. But he refuses to give in to you. To the thought of you.

No, he will never even consider you.

His spare glances and mutters should be enough to put you off, yet you still try to befriend him.

But then he dreams of you. In his head, he lays so softly against your chest, listening to the sound of you breathing, and he tries to mimic it. It's something so intimate, something so rare to him. New.

Why do his pants feel tight?

The lines near his eyes crinkle as he shuts them tightly, and his lip curls into a snarl. He feels ashamed, disgusted with himself. He's never even once thought to touch himself to someone. What does he do? What should he do? What's the right thing?

Tell him what to do with the feelings he caught.

But it only drives you to push it deeper, it seems. The way he stumbles and averts his lingering gaze when you catch him staring. He gets tongue tied trying to respond back.

His reactions are just so... cute. At least that's what you told him that night you invited him over for some dinner. You said you felt lonely, that you could bring countless people over, but they don't exactly make you feel fulfilled.

He knows this is true. There's a vent connecting your rooms. Sometimes, just sometimes, he can overhear what goes on.

And he hears you sigh, disappointed. His heart throbs at the sound, and he can't help but think that he'd be a much better replacement.

So, the rough pads of his fingers trail down his boxers as he tries to remember what you told the last guy — "Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart." — he thinks the guy was trying to take over your roll. He heard the guys' pleas of mercy to give him what he wanted.

Most of them did that.

"I won't give it to you until you make me feel something."

He wouldn't be like that. He would take everything you give him, even when it comes to be too much and his hips are bucking underneath you, until he's trying to push you away by the shoulders and his eyes threaten to shut, touch him while he's begging for you to give him a minute, while he passes out and you're still buried to the hilt, he'll let himself go and not think of a single thing but you.

Even when he's drenched in his own fluids — be it white and sticky, be it clear and wet that squirts out of him after he came way too many times, be it a mixture of both his sweat and drool.

He'll push through his own orgasm to make you satisfied.

He wants to be devoured by you.

He wondered how your hand would feel around his cock. Warm, you probably know what you're doing too. Would you kiss him afterward? He would, even with his semen coating your tongue. He'd clean it off for you just to get a taste of your spit mixing with his.

He isn't embarrassed by the wanton moan that escapes him as he squirms into the soaked sheets. Your name is on the tip of his tongue, it's ready to burst, he's ready to burst but he keeps some clarity to bite his tongue and force it down when he hears your car pulling up.

And he pulls away, hips thrusting into the warm air of his bedroom as his sticky hand comes up to muffle a gasp.

He'll keep on denying himself.

He wants to forget you but he can't. He'll miss you when he doesn't have you near.

He'll cry from thinking that he was yours. He never was, never will be. He knows this. You'll quickly move on, find someone your age, much more capable in satisfying you.