JAX

the night had been easier than you expected. a simple, carefree night to chase a thrill. and for a while, you had completely forgotten everything else. 

the music, the lights, the crowded room full of strangers—it all blurred together in an obscure, warm and distant bubble. you had spent the evening laughing, talking, and enjoying the company of someone you had been getting to know throughout the night. someone who made the night feel simple. 

you didn’t think about the fact that you hadn’t told don lorenzo, but you were single, free as a bird with no obligation to tell him exactly who you were hanging out with. at least, that’s what you told yourself. 

the brisk air had greeted you the moment you stood outside of the venue. the distant bass could still be heard and felt in your bones, even from this far away. the function continued without you, a glow of flashing hues and muffled voices spilling into the parking lot. 

the guy you met had offered to walk you to your car, still talking about something that made you laugh earlier. there was a charming way about him that enabled you to remain interested. smiling and listening, your attention focused solely on him. until you notice his silence. he had completely stopped talking and froze beside you. 

“hey…this is your car, right?” he asked, voice shaken with uncertainty as his hand slid around your waist. 

you look up, and there he was, don lorenzo. he leaned casually against your car like he had been there for a while. the distant glow from the venue caught the edges of his messy dark green hair, the faint purple tips standing out beneath the colored flashes pouring on the pavement. his posture was relaxed, almost lazy, arms crossed as he watched the two of you approach. 

don didn’t look at you with anger, per se, that would’ve been too easy. instead, there was this familiar look of amusement settled on his features. 

“who’s this?” he asked in a mere conversational way. 

the guy beside you immediately noticed the tension. his posture shifted, stepping closer slightly, not quite understanding the situation. 

“she’s leaving with me,” he said, his voice firmer than before. “is there a problem?”

well you’re fucked. 

lorenzo simply looked at him, trying to figure out what exactly made this person think they belonged in the conversation, one that clearly didn’t need his input. don only smiled, the false teeth in his mouth riddled with gold. 

then his attention turned back to you, removing his weight from the car. 

“you really thought you could disappear for the night and think i wouldn’t find out?” 

you opened your mouth but failed to formulate a response in time. lorenzo was already reaching for the belt tethering his pants together. 

“c’mere and show him what i taught you, tesoro, and you better hope no one comes outside."

you weren’t sure what had gotten into you, following his directions with no delay. your knees were pressed painfully into the pavement of the parking lot, a rough hand gripping the back of your head, pushing you further and further onto his cock. lorenzo’s tip prodding the back of your throat as you helplessly gag around him. 

“what did i say? no hands, ok?” 

you bat your eyelashes up at him, fresh tears clinging to your waterline as you nod, obeying him wholeheartedly, sucking his cock as if the man you met at the venue earlier wasn’t being forced to watch you choke on someone else's dick. 

don threatened him if he were to walk away or take his eyes off you. lorenzo was dead set on showing this unworthy man who you belonged to, enjoying the way he shuffled uncomfortably, briefly looking around to see if anyone was coming; his erection pushing against his pants to form an aching tent. oh, but he watched. he did exactly what he was told.

“you’re giving him a good show, tesoro. i think he likes it. how about i fuck you on top of the car next, ok?” 

the giddy smile on your face refused to disappear. 

even after you stepped through the front door, kicking off your shoes, dropping your bag onto the nearest surface with no care in the world, riding high on cloud 9. 

it felt like you were floating. it had been a good night, a genuine good night. you couldn’t recall the last time you had laughed that much on a date—the kind of laughter that left a residual tingle in your cheeks, or the kind that stayed with you even after you were alone. 

you and your date had conversations that seemingly lasted for a lifetime, full of jokes, a happy reprieve from everything demanding in your life. 

you were content. until your phone lit up with one notification, and one name. 

michael

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your smile faded immediately. it wasn’t out of fear, but because you knew michael kaiser never sent you anything without reason. 

you picked up your phone. the first thing you saw was the image. your stomach dropped, anxiety swarming beneath your ribcage. 

it wasn’t just…a random picture, it was a picture taken from a distance: you and your date. walking together, laughing, completely unaware of the possibility that someone could’ve been watching. for a moment, you only stared. lost for words. 

then another message appeared. 

you really thought i’d let you get away with that?

it was hard to discern what type of emotion came with that sentence. was it indignation? was it hurt? 

you didn’t even have a chance to respond before he sent you another alarming text. 

you have ten fucking seconds to open your door, or i force my way in. is that clear?

your heart hammered in your chest. you stared at the door, trying to decide whether you were more annoyed or unsettled by the fact he was there—or aroused that he cared so much about your affairs that it angered him. ten seconds. 

and deep down? you weren’t surprised. your feet were moving towards the door before your cognition could even catch up. the moment the door cracked open, the air seemed to evaporate. 

michael’s jaw was set so tightly that the muscles flexed angrily beneath his pale skin, a vein standing out faintly along his neck. his usually immaculate blond hair had fallen slightly out of place. his cold eyes met yours before stepping past the threshold, closing the door slowly behind him with a deliberate click. 

he had you now, he wasn’t going to let you go. 

that revelation came to you late, far too late, when you had your face pressed into the pillows, the wetness from your eyes transferring onto the pillow covers. your knuckles gripping the sheets below you for purchase as kaiser slammed in and out of you from behind, his cock bullying your pussy as you shamefully clenched around him. 

kaiser was mean and relentless. 

“you wish it was him touching you instead?” kaiser sneered, his hands spreading your ass further apart, sliding his cock deeper into your sodden hole. 

“no—only you micha—!” you whimper into the pillows, your eyes threatening to roll back from how good he was fucking you. 

“smart girl.” he leaned down, his chest touching the dampness of your spine. “this is all your fault; i wouldn’t have to fuck you senseless if you hadn’t gone out with him in the first place, schatz.” 

and the next morning? you would have a hard time trying to explain to your date why you had sent him a video of you getting fucked into the mattress, knowing damn well you weren’t the one who sent it. 

your apartment was unusually quiet. 

you slipped your shoes off by the door, not noticing a pair already there. setting your keys into an opaque bowl on the counter with a soft clink as the evening replayed in your mind like a broken record. you had met someone at a local function, and meeting him had made the whole night even more unforgettable. the easy, light-hearted conversations, effortless laughter, a pleasant drive home—

the thought had immediately vanished from your mind as soon as you rounded the corner into the living room and stopped. someone was already here. 

itoshi sae sat on the far end of the couch, one leg crossed over the other, posture unflawed despite the ungodly hour. a single lamp cast a warm glow across the room, catching the sharp lines of his face as he looked up from whatever he had been occupied with.

he didn’t seem surprised to see you. if anything, it was as though he expected you to walk through that door at that exact moment. 

his expression gave nothing away, no irritation, no disappointment, no relief…just a deadpan stare boring into you. 

your pulse faltered. “sae…?” 

he didn’t answer immediately, his eyes raking appreciatively over your body as he let the silence linger for far too long. 

only then did he set aside what he’d been absentmindedly turning over in his hand before leaning forward to rest his forearms against his knees. sae’s gaze slowly lifting to meet yours.

“who were you with?” 

you don’t answer. it’s not that you don’t want to, it’s simply because you’re not sure if you can. the ability to utter a single word becomes null and void on your tongue. 

sae releases a resigned sigh, standing from his place on the edge of the couch. and that’s how you knew you were fucked. but nothing could properly explain the arousal coating your panties as you let him command you to sit on the couch, legs spread as you touched yourself in front of him. 

“sae please—i can’t cum like this.” you huff, knuckle deep in your pussy, willing your mind to imagine his cock sliding inbetween your folds instead of your measly fingers. 

sae finally looks up from your fingers plunging in and out of you, his hand sliding under his waistband to fix the way his erection was lying in his pants. 

“you want it?” he asked you, voice full of scorn. 

“fuck yes, please, sae—it won’t happen again i promise.” 

he scoffs a humorless laugh, tilting his head back in his chair, unzipping his pants to free his throbbing erection, gripping the base of his cock with a teasing stroke. 

“i’ll give it to you once i’ve decided you earned it.” sae strokes himself to the timely thrusts of your fingers; you whimper in exasperation, the fact that it was right there in front of you and you couldn’t have it? upset you more than it should. 

“please.” your ministrations move faster despite yourself, your free hand coming in to rub tight circles against your clit.

“what would your date think if he knew you were begging for someone else's cock inside you?” he jeered, his hand on his shaft moving to match your pace. 

you shake your head. “dunno—m’sorry sae, just—please fuck me.” 

“you’re such a slut for making me enjoy this; you know that?”

and when he finally deemed you worthy of his cock, you learned your lesson right then and there, to entertain no one else but him.

the evening had been pleasantly uneventful. 

it wasn’t filled with grand gestures, no expensive restaurants, no elaborate plans, so on and so on. it was just two people wandering wherever the night happened to take them. 

you had started with dinner, lingering far longer than either of you anticipated, as one conversation effortlessly became another. the food had long since gone cold, neither of you noticing until the server politely asked whether you wanted anything else. 

from there, you and your date wandered through the city without much of a destination. and by the time he walked you back to your car, neither of you seemed eager to end the night. you exchange one last smile, promising to do it again sometime before climbing into your seat. 

it had been nice, really nice, so nice that you had forgotten about your peculiar relationship with julian loki. a situationship, rather. you had finally managed to go a single night without him plaguing your mind. 

you pulled into your driveway, killed the engine, and sat there for a second, letting the silence settle around you and the weight of today’s events. 

the porch light cast a warm glow over the front steps as you climbed out of your car, keys jingling softly in your hand as you reached for the front door, sliding the key into the lock. 

your phone vibrates.

you take your phone out of your pocket as you glanced at the screen. julian. 

your brows knit together; it was late, and he rarely called at this time…if he ever called you at all, that is.

you answered as you push the door open. “hello?” 

“...seems like you enjoyed yourself.” 

“...julian?” you ask incredulously, fully within the safety of your home. 

“i figured i’d let the night end before i called.” 

you straighten, your grip tightening around your phone. “you were there?” 

“i was. i saw that outfit you wore, and i knew it looked familiar. does he know i fucked you in that?” 

time seemed to stall around you, heat flaming your cheeks. you swallow the saliva sitting in your throat uneasily, legs crossing themselves before you could realize it. 

“no, right?”

“julian—”

“does he know i had you crying on my dick that night? does he know how pretty you look when you cry?” 

a muffled noise of surprise escapes you, but it could’ve easily been interpreted as a desperate moan, begging to leave your mouth. 

“don’t tell me this is turning you on, mon cœur; that’s disgusting.” loki ridicules you; you could practically hear him grinning from ear to ear over the phone.

“please, julian, don’t start.” you were truly pathetic, fingers reaching to trace your clit through the fabric. 

“don’t start? i haven’t even started yet.” 

a pause.

“i wish you could see what you do to me.” a groan leaves his lips, clear and audible in your ear. “you want to know what i’m doing?” 

you shake your head as if he’d see you do it. “no…i don’t.” 

“huh? you don’t? you don’t think i can hear your wet pussy from the phone?” 

ah, well, he caught you now. you had been so distracted, replaying his words in your head, your fingers had slipped past your panties and pushed eagerly into your wetness. 

the argument had started over something trivial. at least, that’s what julian loki made it seem like.

a missed call, a forgotten promise, surely those weren’t something you could just…simply brush off to the side. it was a small thing that had grown teeth after sitting unaddressed for too long. 

you had tried to brush it off at first, convince yourself that it wasn’t worth being upset over, and perhaps try to be understanding of his rigorous schedule; but all of that fell through when julian stood before you with that same quiet expression he always wore—the one that made it impossible to tell whether he was genuinely unaffected by your words, or simply too good at hiding them. 

and somehow, that made everything worse. 

loki wasn’t angry nor upset that you voiced your frustrations at him, instead he just stood there, listening. 

most people would’ve retaliated, raise their voice, try to prove their side, but julian did none of that. he let every single word fall in between you, never interrupting you once. 

and the troubling part of all this? the look on his face: amusement, and something more…hidden. one you couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

a feint curve at the corner of his mouth. a bewitching glint in his eyes, one that made you feel like you were the only one in the room who hadn’t realized it yet, which…you didn’t. until you looked down.

it was hard to notice at first through the haze of your emotion, but when you did, your exasperation completely dissipated. 

julian loki was hard. his obvious erection straining against the confines of his pants, and he did nothing to hide it. like he wanted you to notice. 

“you done?” loki murmurs, reaching beneath his waistband to fix his erection to lie comfortably in his pants. “sorry mon cœur… seeing you all angry got me worked up…how can i make it up to you?” 

it took very little convincing to get julian loki the way you wanted him, flat on his back while you dragged your drenched pussy across his eager mouth—so eager to please you he didn’t give a shit about anything else, only making it up to you.

his tongue slips from his lips to meet your clit head on, a measured motion only he could master, then angling downward to press the warmth of his pink muscle against your entrance; practically begging that you give him more with the way he was squeezing your ass. but something was amiss, a loss of contact when there shouldn’t be.

“juli…what did i tell you?” you warn him breathlessly, your eyes landing on his. it was his eyes that gave him away, that impossible shade of gold, hazed over and distant, but they refocused upon hearing your voice, properly meeting your gaze. 

you felt him smirk against your pussy, giving your folds an exploritory pass of his tongue before breaching your entrance. you jolt against him with an involuntary buck of your hips. 

“how do you expect me not to touch myself to you?” 

you had explicitly told loki not to touch himself until he had made you cum—purely out of spite. but what you enforced was quickly starting to crumble away, and you were too drunk off the feeling of him making out with your pussy to care. 

you offer julian a weak glare, but it was quickly broken down by the quick flick of his tongue against your clit. 

“mmmm! fuck—m’ gonna cum!” you cry out, your hips rolling against his face with amplified fervor, hands reaching forward to grip the headboard. 

“yeah? you gonna cum all over me?” loki mutters against your core, a hand sliding back down to grip his aching shaft, pumping his swollen cock to the sound of your labored breathing, the way his name fell from your lips, the obscene wetness of your pussy all over his mouth—he wasn’t going to last very long. 

you nod frantically, “gonna cum all over your face, juli—”

loki groans into your heat, pumping himself faster. “c’mon then, use me, make a mess, baby, i got you.” 

“julian!” 

“yes, that’s it mon cœur, let me fix it. let me make it up to you.” 

you unraveled like a thread pulled from a seam as a tremor worked its way through you, quivering uncontrollably as he adamantly lapped at you, riding you through your orgasm. loki ate your pussy like he’d been waiting for that first taste, long before you voiced your anger at him. there was something almost mesmerizing about the way he enjoyed it, how he devoured your arousal completely unguarded and unapologetically pleased. 

loki was completely blissed out from you alone, engrossed in the way you clenched and unclenched around nothing, basking in the aftermath of your high. his cock pulsed one final time before spilling all over his hand, hot spurts of cum dripping over his digits like a sinful fountain. loki couldn’t help himself, whimpering against your pussy as he bucked into his hand. 

“shit, juli? are you okay?” you ask, hastily pulling your hips away from his mouth. 

his mouth was ridiculously messy, glossy with the sweetness of your orgasm, the evidence of his indulgence impossible to ignore. loki smiled at you, completely unapologetic. 

“are you still mad, baby?” 

you roll your eyes. “it seems like you want me to be mad, julian.” 

"you really don't know what you're doing, do you?"

his words weren’t spoken with anger. if anything, they were spoken with amusement, which, somehow, made it worse. 

itoshi sae is an individual who looks exactly how everyone expected him to: detached and completely uninterested in the chaos around him. which is precisely why the dare had been made to you. 

in the outset of the night, it played out normally, like any late night party would—one that sae grudgingly got dragged to; a night where everyone could finally relax after months of pressure, overbearing expectations, and impossible standards. the room was filled with laughter, expensive drinks, and anything deemed distracting enough. 

a friend of yours laughed and claimed that there was no way in hell anyone could actually get a reaction out of him. not the fans, not the reporters, not his brother, and certainly not you. 

the challenge should’ve been harmless, a joke, but it didn’t seem like that when you took confident steps across the room. a little too much confidence and a little too much curiosity. 

you approached him knowing exactly what everyone else expected: that he would ignore you. that he would glance over, realize what was happening, and dismiss it without a second thought. 

except he didn’t…and sae noticed everything: the hesitation hidden beneath your feigned confidence. the way you were trying to act like this was effortless. the fact that you were pretending not to be intimidated by standing in front of someone everyone else treated as untouchable. 

and when you started flirting, he didn’t shut it down. he looked at you instead, really looked. not with the bored indifference everyone else was used to, but with a slow, assessing kind of attention that made it obvious he was listening to every word, catching every deliberate smile, every carefully chosen compliment, every attempt to make him react.

his gaze lingered just long enough to make it blatantly clear he was aware of exactly what you were doing.

itoshi sae was interested—not anything else. sae never tried once to brush you off, in fact, he reciprocated your advances, looking at you while he was silently imagining what your face would look like if he fucked that confidence right out of you.

so when he reached in his pocket to fish out his keys, eyes tracking you lower and lower, only then did he put an end to your words. 

“come on. you got what you wanted.” 

oh, he wasn’t even able to drive anywhere. he had you sitting nice and pretty in the passenger seat, reclined all the way back as he pounded his dick into your pussy, legs pinned near his ears. 

it was like he was punishing you, giving you a live demonstration of be careful what you wish for. sae was mean, insisting that you keep your eyes on him and him only, desperate to see that confidence get brutally wiped from your face as he fucked you, tears streaming down your cheeks from how unyielding his thrusts were, eager to make you cum and cum again until he knew you had learned your lesson. 

"you wanted my attention, didn't you?" "you started this, you don't get to look away from me" "had enough, hm?"

"you're adorable when you think you're in control"

amusement. unbridled amusement at that. the kind that made it obvious michael kaiser had already figured out your ploy and planned to use it against you. 

the party was exactly the kind of place he belonged. a room full of people celebrating victory, endless compliments, and endless attention; and at the center of it was kaiser. 

he possessed the kind of presence that made people notice him before they even realized they were staring. the confidence, the charm, the effortless arrogance of someone who had spent the time of his career trying to bury the old parts of him—the worthless parts of him. 

he was quite reputable: a genius striker, the star player, everything that put him in an amorous light. 

it all starts with a teasing comment, that there was no way anyone could actually get under his skin (except for isagi). no way anyone could make him lose his composure, not when he was so used to people falling over themselves trying to impress him. 

so naturally, the dare was made. and naturally, you accepted. a little fun way to prove that even someone like michael kaiser was still just a person. so when you approached him, you assumed he’d throw you a smug remark and perhaps a dismissive laugh, and maybe a little teasing before he moved on. but kaiser didn’t ignore you like you thought he would. 

you carried yourself like you weren’t intimidated. you weren’t trying to worship him, or exaggeratedly impress him, you were…challenging him, to put it simply. 

and that was interesting, because kaiser loved attention. but attention was easy when it came to him, everyone gave him that. what was rare was someone willing to stand there and act like they had the advantage. 

at first, he played along with a knowing smile, a glance paired with a careful reaction to keep you guessing. kaiser ultimately found himself paying attention for a reason he didn’t expect: you were entertaining—no—more than that. interesting. so much so it irritated him. he needed to see himself shut you up, to show you who you were truly messing with. 

because he didn’t liked to be challenged. 

“you talk too much. you’ve had your fun. it’s my turn now.” 

the imposing walls of the bathroom did little to completely cut out your moans of pleasure, but you know what did? kaiser’s twin fingers pushed right in between your flushed lips. he didn’t want you saying a single word as he took you from behind. 

your hands grip the dip in the counter leading into the sink bowl. kaiser fucked you in front of a wide mirror, wanting you to see how much control he had over you, how he effortlessly dominated you. you were too far gone, his dick pulsing and swollen inside you, going deeper and deeper with each thrust as gravity allowed.

he smiled at you villainously through the mirror, watching you coat his fingers in saliva, your mind seemingly incoherent as you were completely fucked out; letting him bully your pussy all because you wanted to test your luck over a silly dare.

"what happened? you had so much to say before" "you spent all night trying to get a reaction out of me. was this what you wanted?" "now your pussy is going to speak for you"

"careful. you're starting to make me believe you"

these particular words were delivered with a smile, but not a mocking one, and especially not the kind of arrogance you’d expect from someone at his level, and that was what made it dangerous. 

the party was supposed to be a celebration of victory. a night where everyone could finally step away from the pressure of competition and enjoy the result of months sacrifice. the room was filled with music, conversation, and the kind of excitement that followed people who had made themselves impossible to ignore. 

and among all of them was vivian hugo. 

hugo was someone who didn’t demand excessive amounts of attention, he didn’t want it. he was calm and somehow approachable. which made him harder to read…because everyone knew the reputation of the new gen 11, they were extraordinary; players who had reached a level most people could only dream of. 

but hugo had something different. something that made people lower their guard without realizing it. which was why the dare started, that if anyone could get a reaction out of him, it would be impressive. because hugo is always composed. 

so naturally, the challenge became yours. a little confidence, a little flirting, a funny story to tell afterward. 

you approach him expecting him to disregard you and keep his eyes pointed directly in his book (a book with no fucking words), but when the first couple of words came out of your mouth, his eyes snapped to yours immediately, and he began to notice your failure of concealing the little hesitation you did have beneath that confidence. 

hugo let you continue; he humored you because he wasn’t unaware; he was quite observant. he knew when people were performing and unfortunately, he knew that you were. the more you tried to charm him, the more curious he became. 

not because he believed the act, because he wanted to know if he could break you. his attention had fully narrowed down to you now, priorities aligned. hugo stood abruptly, finally deciding he was done with the crowd, startling you. 

he simply offered you a glance, a quiet invitation. “keep looking at me like you’re waiting to see if i’ll fall for it. i’m curious to see if you will.” 

so you follow him into a covert part of the establishment, a patio, of all things. honestly? it didn’t matter, not when he had you in his lap, legs spread around his thick thighs with him three fingers deep inside your pussy. he was so fucking large it made no sense. your back pressed up against his chest, fingers squeezing the cushions below you as he showed you no mercy. 

you’ve come at least three times from nothing but his hands. hugo took great pleasure in seeing you writhe in his lap, body protesting against his assault. his fingers plunging in and out of you, his other hand simultaneously rubbing circles against your clit, rolling it in between his fingers, feeling you gush around him. 

"seems like i was the one caught after all" "give me one more, surely you can, hm?" "are you ready to take me now?"

"you're making it really hard to pretend i'm not interested"

bunny iglesias laughed—not at you, though, but at his poor resolve, because bunny wasn’t used to people approaching him like that. 

the party was still in full swing. music filled the room, teammates and guests crowded around, celebrating victory, replaying moments from the match, anything celebratory. 

bunny, a new gen 11, someone who had earned the kind of attention that followed him everywhere, despite his attempts at going incognito. but unlike some of the others, bunny didn’t carry himself like he expected the room to revolve around him. 

he laughed easily, he talked with people, he actually seemed like he was having fun—despite his facade, and because of that, your friend joked that if anyone could get a reaction out of him, it would certainly be impressive. because bunny was approachable, what reaction is there to get?

so the challenge becomes simple: get him interested, make him fall for it. 

at first, bunny thought it was entertaining. the way you walked up with more confidence than you probably felt, the way you acted like you weren’t aware of exactly who you were approaching, the way you tried so hard to make it seem effortless. 

he was able to discern that something was different. unlike the others, bunny didn’t immediately turn it into a competition. he didn’t try to outplay you; he just found himself enjoying the conversation. the teasing. the little moments where your confidence slipped and came back twice as strong, the fact that you weren’t treating him like some unreachable superstar, and that, somehow, was what made the dare work. 

and if you were so willing to throw yourself at him, why not accept what he was given? he’s surely not the one to waste away an opportunity. 

a small smile crossed his face as he finally gave in. “take a walk with me.” 

the noise behind you fades with every step, and now you’ve got your back pressed up against the chilling brick of an alleyway wall, right outside the venue. bunny’s got his hands gripping your ass, bouncing you on his dick like it was something so easy. his broad chest kept you trapped between him and the wall, fucking you against it. 

and whenver you’d become too loud? his hand would come up to your lips, cooing in your ear about “being caught”, just for him to fuck you harder, baiting you into rebelling against his wish so that everyone nearby could hear just how good he was making you feel. 

"shh...you're going to get us caught" "you looked much more confident in your head, didn't you?" "i almost feel bad"

"i like this. keep going"

the grin on don lorenzo’s face should’ve been a warning. because it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. 

the party was exactly what everyone expected from a celebration involving the new gen 11. loud music, endless conversations, people trying to get closer to players they had only ever watched from a distance. 

don lorenzo collected attention like it was a hobby. he laughed too loudly and moved too freely. to put it simply, he acted like the entire room was a playground built specifically for him. which is why nobody believed the dare would work. 

anyone who can get a reaction like that out of him should get an award.

an award that would rightfully be yours. 

but lorenzo was unpredictable; nobody knew what he would do, nobody knew what he was thinking. so when you accepted the challenge, everyone expected calamity. they expected him to laugh, for him to realize what was happening and turn it into another joke. 

what they didn’t expect—and so did you—was for him to actually be interested. at first, lorenzo treated it like entertainment. the confidence, the teasing, the obvious effort to make him react. he noticed it all, of course he did. 

lorenzo noticed your smile, and that in itself brought him down a notch. but he was already cataloging the way you kept pretending this was only a game, or the fact that your false bravery was merely the only thing keeping you going. 

he was starting to like you. so instead of ruining the act, he played along, because he thought it was fun. somewhere between the challenge, something changed. it stopped being about whether you could get his attention because you already had it. 

lorenzo looked around briefly before walking towards you, placing a hand over the small of your back, guiding you away to an empty room.

“too many people here. i want to hear you better, ok?” 

now, the way he was in between your legs made it difficult for you to regret ever approaching him in the first place. he was eating the fuck out of your pussy, like he was starved and you were the only thing needed to satiate him. his tongue works all the right places, swirling against your clit, laping up against your slit—it was perfect. 

lorenzo strongly encouraged that you be vocal; he wouldn’t continue unless you did otherwise, because all that confidence you spewed at him—he wanted to hear it in another form, and show you that that little stunt you pulled? wasn't going to fly.

"i liked that confidence. bring it back" "don't get quiet on me now..." "you don't want me to stop, do you?"

don lorenzo is a busy man.

not in the ordinary sense others might think, not ordinary things like stacked appointments or an over-filled calendar from a corporate job. his life is always set into perpetual motion: training sessions, recovery schedules, media obligations that he only half pays attention to, and flights that blur one city into the other. 

in other words, his professional football life leaves little room for anything else, and yet he still fights to maintain your presence in his world, but it would never be enough. weeks would pass before your schedules would align again, and even then, something always stole him away before either of you could pretend the time had been enough. 

so when the knock finally came, you barely registered it at first, assuming it was a delivery marked with your name, or perhaps someone who had ventured out to the wrong door, but it was neither. 

as soon as you opened the door, there he was, travel-worn and with a nest of hair that was messier than usual, as though he’d run his hand through his tresses a thousand times before arriving. he hadn’t announced he was coming, hadn’t given you the tiniest hint, hadn’t asked if you were busy; he had simply…appeared. 

your hands reach for his sleeves before you realize you moved. don barely has the time to flash that familiar crooked grin before you’re pulling him forward by the front of his jacket, and the surprised laugh that starts in his throat never quite escapes. 

instead, it disappears under the warmth of your lips. it was quick, impulsive, and an action fueled by depravity. you wrap your arms around his shoulders to reel him in closer, moaning into his mouth. the corners of his lips curl upward against yours, as if your desperation were humorous. 

don pulls back, only slightly, though you’re still clutching his clothing like he’d disappear any moment if you let go. 

“i’m here now, ok?” he murmurs. 

you don’t respond, you never get the chance. the progression toward completely getting into your house was almost impossible. there was no point in time where you separated, like the mere thought was repulsive, clinging to each other, shedding off every article of clothing unceremoniously on the way in. 

the house becomes irrelevant, and so does the sense of direction. 

you’re breathless now, against the cushions of your couch, attempting to catch your breath from the insurmountable feeling of him pushing inside you, dragging the head of his cock against your walls before slamming back in. it had been ages since he’s taken you like this; your legs hiked up at his waists, his overbearing figure enough to ensure your legs were spread completely—obediently for him. 

“mmm–i missed you so much—” a strangled gasp comes from your lips, hands reaching for his forearms for any anchor of support you could find while he fucked you mercilessly. 

don’s eyes immediately snap up to your face, removing his gaze from his shaft sliding seamlessly between your tender folds, the imprint of your arousal forming a solid ring around the base of his cock. 

he grins stupidly, a poorly concealed moan coming from his lips. “yeah?” he pauses, eyes sliding back down the planes of your body. “say that again.” 

“i—ohh fuck!” your words slur as he maneuvers both of your legs to rest on his shoulders in one swift motion, reaching deeper than you ever thought possible. you missed this, and to have him all to yourself was a fortune compared to anything else. 

oh, but don lorenzo is a busy man. 

his phone buzzes on the coffee table nearby, a contact lighting up his phone. he pays it no mind, completely and utterly enraptured by you, between your legs, savouring your pussy clenching around him every time he muttered something sinful into the air. 

it buzzes again, almost more insistently than before. finally, he looks up, glancing at the screen like it personally offended him, but his face immediately lit up, a mischief gracing his features. you already knew. 

your expression shifts before you could stop it, a silent protest; head shaking, don’t you dare. the palms of your hands trying to ease him back, afraid that he’d answer the phone while inside you. 

and your fears were correct. lorenzo notices, of course he does. his grin deepens, not apologetic, never that. he shoves your hands away, leaning over to place a hand over your mouth, muffling your moans of protest as he fucked you harder—slow at first, but with enough force to knock the breath out of you, clinging onto him more desperately, trying not to expose the intimate position he had you in. 

he tilts his head, slowly lifting the phone. 

“yeah?”

he listens exactly for one second, his thrusts never faltering as he watched your fucked-out expression combine with your mounting fear. 

“lorenzo. sorry to interrupt. are you busy?” 

lorenzo looks directly at you. “no.” 

your eyes widen slightly, your noise of protest gets muffled by the palm of his hand. you could distinctly hear the voice on the other line: marc fucking snuffy. 

snuffy sighs over the phone, a practiced ritual of collecting his thoughts, but that becomes all lost to you. 

“no noise, tesoro.” 

lorenzo haphazardly throws his phone on the armrest of the sofa, putting it on speaker as he reigns you in; both hands on your hips pulling your weight to meet the ardent roll of his; one of his hands returning to your lips before you could voice out your pleasure.

your back arches off the cushion, hands waging war with themselves, deciding if you wanted him closer or farther, to risk the possibility of being caught or not. his hand stood solidly still over your lips, muffling anything that attempted to pass. 

“i called because i needed to go over tomorrow’s schedule.” 

don’s act doesn’t last nearly as long as he intended. his composure becomes difficult to maintain when you’re finally in arm's reach, with him deep inside you. 

“mhm…” he finally responds, a weak indication that he’d been paying attention. 

“…are you actually listening to me?” 

lorenzo is late to respond—again. the conversation with the striker fades halfway through, more interested in watching your expression struggle to stay somewhat controlled. he catches himself smiling at you as his free hand settles along your flesh just below your naval, pushing down as he slightly lifts your hips. 

“i am listening, ok?” he responds after a beat. 

the pressure from his palm practically amplifies the feeling of his cock prodding at you, kissing up against that spot you love so much. 

a restless energy settles in the pit of your stomach, growing heavier with each passing moment, each punishing thrust he gave you. your head falls back, whimpering against his hand. 

“yes—yes. cum for me, i want to see it.” lorenzo murmurs as he had seemingly forgotten that he had been on the phone—and so did you. his immediate priority was to make you come undone all over his cock, and his awareness of marc snuffy had completely gone out the window.

don removes his hand from your lips, putting a confident thumb over your clit, rubbing rough circles to help facilitate your awaited orgasm. you whimper once more, moaning his name in a desperate plea. your hips subconsciously roll forward, as if meeting him halfway would expedite the pleasure tenfold; the familiar sensation coiling in your gut tighter and tighter, like a spring wound to its limits. 

“i’m gonna cum n’side you, ok? gonna fill you up—you gonna be good and take it?” 

your nodding becomes frantic, “yes!—please.”

“cum and i’ll give you what you want.”

his words finally push you over the edge, cumming and clenching around his shaft, your body involuntarily shaking beneath him, loud and lewd with its assault.

lorenzo seals his promise, cumming shortly after you, a racy, fucked-out smile spreading along his lips, lathering your walls with his seed; never pulling out once to ensure you kept in every drop he had to give you, slowly fucking his cum back into your sensitive pussy. 

you take in a sharp inhale at the sheer feeling of it, ribcage rising and falling with the aftermath of your orgasm, watching the slow rock of his hips against yours with rapt attention. 

“see? knew you could take it.” 

“don please—give me more," you plead, holding him tighter, not quite satiated, and nor was he. 

“....you disgusting bastard.” 

beep

the call disconnects, and you both stare at each other like the world just ended. lorenzo’s grin falters into a sheepish smile, hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck. 

"i'm outside" "i'm not doin' this over the phone..."

karasu tabito calls you with startling certainty. he talks as if he’d already decided that the conversation was happening in person and delegated that you open the door. his voice over the phone is flatter than usual, but controlled. poorly trying to conceal the irritation beneath his skin. he’s been thinking too much and hate that he can’t turn it off cleanly. 

so when you open your door, he’s already there like he didn’t consider any other outcome. karasu doesn’t tell you what’s wrong immediately; he never does. he just simply stands in your presence, a consuming look infecting his features. 

you see, karasu fears being…average. something neutral, replaceable, and mediocre; and blue lock is essentially the perfect breeding ground for daunting thoughts like those to squander anyone’s mentality. 

when he finally decided to step into your space and quickly close your door behind him, he was already reaching for you, hands gripping your waist like it was only vital thing worth holding on to, his lips mere inches from yours, pleading in what could only be a wish for salvation. 

“talk to me.” 

you part your lips to ask a question of your own, but instantly get deflected. 

“no—don’t think about asking me anythin’,” he says slowly, “i just—i just need to hear you talk to me.” 

after hearing that? there isn’t really much going back and forth you can do, completely at his mercy, in between his thighs, bobbing your head up and down his length, sucking him with the hollow of your cheeks; every once in a while lifting your head, stroking him with your hand to praise him and tell him how good he’s doing for you, a simple acknowledgement of his worth.

you told him anything and everything to see that expression of utter relief and the credence he had in you on his face. 

the sheer sound of your voice was enough to send him into a frenzy, moaning as he bucked his hips into you. and when you’d be quiet for too long? he’d start trying to pull you off his cock just to hear you praise him again. 

"don't do that, keep talkin'" "say that again..." "...keep talkin' to me darlin’”

“don’t worry about it” “i said i’m fine” “just open the door, i’m already here…please”

mikage reo’s frustration doesn’t immediately become evident when he walks through the door. it was like something that rapidly began to accumulate the second he fell into your grounding embrace, frustration shaped by expectation. tonight, it’s nagi. it wasn’t really a conflict or distance but the quiet realization that they are not moving at the same pace anymore. that what used to feel effortless now requires chasing. 

when he had remained in your arms for what felt like a lifetime, he was already exhausted from trying to hold everything in, and what he wanted was not advice, not correction, not a strategy, but you. 

instead of trying to talk him through it, oblivious, you offer him something much simpler: a shower. although, it might seem fruitless given his current state, it could prove to be a soothing break from holding everything together. 

and when the suggestion comes, for a brief moment, reo doesn’t respond. he just looks at you. 

then he moves slightly, just enough to lean back against the door frame that separates the hallway from your room. his expression doesn’t quite soften into relief, but the look he gave you was a raptorial one, lingering with an intensity that betrayed just how desperately he’d been looking for something to quiet his mind. 

“as long as you come with me.” 

and for the first time in a long time, reo stopped thinking. 

the shower had become completely different the moment the water started falling. your hand prints visible against the fogged-up glass as he pressed you up against it; chill and heat crawled up the side of your face. 

the sound of his hips driving into the flesh of your ass made an obscene, wet echo throughout the bathroom, bouncing off tile. he talks to you the whole time, palms gripping your hips as if you’d run away. his pleas are soft, persistent, and so deeply personal. 

he doesn’t want to lose you: a perfect example of a constant in his life, and he makes it desperately apparent how much you and your sweet pussy mean to him. 

"fuck—i love you so much" "you’re so warm" "you always make me feel so good" "let me hear you say it, sweetheart" 

"m' outside" "hurry" "my legs are getting tired"

nagi seishiro barely lets things linger long enough to become a problem. if something is frustrating, he’ll usually walk away or play…video games; and without the proper motivation, something remotely too difficult can cause him to lose interest way before it has the chance to consume him. 

until tonight. tonight? It follows him home. 

he had gotten done with training hours ago, his body still feeling heavy in all the wrong places—and not the satisfying ache of overexertion. he was beginning to reach that point where motivation started to blur with obligation. everything had begun to feel louder than usual: the inevitability that talent won’t be enough forever. 

so instead of lying awake with his phone lighting his room for hours, he found himself at your place. 

the second you open the door, he doesn’t say hello. he saunters in like he owns the place, shoes coming off absentmindedly by the door, his bag slips from his shoulders, and he’s already looking around for some place comfortable way before you shut the door behind him. 

“can we lay on the couch?”

“...sure?”

you found yourself idly combing the pale strands of hair, earning little more than a sleepy hum in response as he rested his head in between your legs. 

“...is there anything i can do to make you feel better?” you ask. 

for a moment, he didn’t answer; then, one eye cracked open as he moved his head only slightly to peer up at you through his fringe, expression lazy in the way only nagi could manage, lips pressed into the faintest hint of a smile. 

“i know what you could do f’me.” 

at least an hour had gone by, laying there on the couch with your legs spread open, your juices coating a sheen over your inner thighs. you strained to keep your legs propped open for him, trembling with each lap of nagi’s tongue to your overstimulated pussy. 

“sei—it’s too much…” you moan, back arching off the cushions as he wrung yet another orgasm out of you; and he was fully content doing it too, devouring everything you had to give him. again and again until he was satisfied. 

"mmm. stop moving" "you taste so good…" "so pretty" "one more f’me, please?"

"you’re not sleeping, i know you aren’t" "just open the door"

itoshi rin’s frustration doesn’t come out loud, not when he's pushing past you as soon as a sliver of opportunity presents itself to slip through the door. rin has…somewhat of a controlled way of holding his frustration at bay, but it’s really all dependent on the magnitude of his frustrations; and today he simply chose to ignore it, not acknowledging it until it started to affect everything else. 

with him it’s always about competition, emulation, or surpassing the different versions of him that eventually shed off like reptilian skin. and the lingering thought that there is always someone just slightly above him (isagi). 

but his frustration manifests as distraction, getting lost in the gilded cage of his mind. so it was unexpected when he abruptly turned to you, asking if you could watch a few horror movies with him; something intense enough to catch his attention, and with you by his side, all those frustrations would diminish. or so he thought. 

you could usually toughen up when it comes to horror movies, but the scene in this particular movie was different—something more visceral than you’d ever seen, and it seemed like rin wasn’t expecting it either, given the tensing of his shoulders. 

your shoulders simpy drew inward, a grimace shaping your lips way before you could even register that you were doing it. 

“tch.” 

rin sighed through his nose, and without a word, he shifted closer to you. a cool hand rose into your field of vision before settling over your eyes. he remained there less than a minute before uncovering your eyes. you blink, turning to look at him, and maybe give him a thank you, but your words fall apart on your tongue. 

his face looked laden with affection and want, his gaze lingering on yours with naked, barely perceptible yearning. 

“this…isn’t going to work…” 

enough was said, really. he hovered above you now—not that you could see him, but you could feel him. his hand was covering your eyes once more, not risking the chance of you looking towards the screen and faltering. this mood was perfect for him, the perfect escape as he was inbetween your legs, fucking you with a savouring slowness into the cushions. 

"…i needed this" "focus on me inside you" "it’s almost over baby, i promise"

"hey—sorry, are you awake?" "i know it’s late, are you busy?" "i just…need to see you"

there’s different levels to isagi yoichi’s frustration, and when he pops up at your door? he’s right in the middle of it, constantly thinking over the things he should’ve done vs. what he did do. everything that wasn’t quite optimal in his style of play was plaguing his mind for the worse—trying to develop new ways to evolve constantly. 

and finally getting a moment with you is like the ultimate reprieve. but not in the way you think—at least not at the start. 

he comes in and immediately embraces you, reeling back to start talking about all of the logic and adversaries that he had internalized in his head. 

i keep going over the last match

there was a moment where i thought i could intercept earlier…but i hesitated

then everything shifted after that

all you could do was listen and shake your head. yoichi trails off in his flow of dialogue, clamming up as soon as you approach him. you settle one hand over his shoulder, while the other glides along his chest. 

“yoichi…i think you should stop thinking about it and let me help.” 

his mouth opens slightly, then closes again. his cheeks flush with a change of color at your proximity. 

“i—” he couldn’t even speak. the way your hands were roaming his body had no right to be that distracting, so sensuous. then something dangerously tender filtered onto his face; as if he surrendered right then and there, his hands fell onto your waist. 

without so much as a warning, your lips fall onto his, and he reciprocates immediately, like he’d die otherwise. he allows you to pull him into the depths of your bedroom like a siren luring in a helpless sailor. 

the first thing isagi practically begged for was your thighs; using the arousal from your pussy to smear it all over your thighs for him to slide his aching cock between your plush skin and watch them engulf him through every thrust. his swollen head peeking through, flushed while it beaded with pre cum.

there was something in the way he looked at you, a quiet reverence as he voiced his appreciation for you in more ways than one. 

"you look so good like this" "m’ almost done, okay?" "i promise i’ll give this pussy the attention it deserves"

"come to the office" "now" "don’t be too late…"

if you thought ego jinpachi would save you the trouble of having to travel all the way up to the blue lock facility, you were sadly mistaken. you would have to go to him. 

ego’s office is always the same: holograms of player data, colossal screens that displayed a plethora of diagrams and metrics. and when you enter, he doesn’t turn around to greet you immediately, either. 

ego doesn’t show his frustration. he tries not to display the weakness of emotional instability, simple as that. but right now, something was misaligned, a result that didn’t land the way it should have—variables that are acting inconsistently. 

and when he calls you, it’s not some measly request of your presence; you were a prized distraction that he was willing to use, through and through. 

so when he finally turns around in that chair, eyes lifting toward you like you’re the only thing worth his attention? only then do you let your body concede to the anticipation of ego completely ruining you to his expense. 

he’s got you bent over the overwhelmingly large panel—with seemingly thousands of tiny little controls, panties pushed down to your ankles, wrists bound behind your back with his hand alone. ego fucks you hard and deep, enough to have your mouth gaped open and begging for him to slow down. 

but unfortunately, ego is not that nice. his chest presses up against your back, his other hand flat on the panel, mere inches away from your face. he only chooses to be this close to your ear so that he can praise you in his own twisted way—the only way that seems right for someone like him as he fucked you from behind. 

looking back on it, you really had no one to blame but yourself for this predicament.

the situation wasn’t unavoidable. there wasn’t some cruel twist of fate or some elaborate misunderstanding that had landed you here, sitting on his cock like some divine right—your name written all over it.

the match had ended hours ago, and it was well into the night.

the stadium had long since emptied after its conclusion. reporters had packed away their obnoxious cameras, there was no more post-game chatter, and most people had gone home, eager to forget the loss and convince themselves that tomorrow would somehow feel less frustrating.

itoshi sae, surprisingly, hadn’t. you’d found him exactly where you expected to: the film room. he was already halfway through rewatching the first half, a still, artificial projection displayed across the opposite wall.

honestly, you should’ve kept walking; tell him that you’d see him at home, but instead, you stopped in the doorway.

“you know,” you’d said, leaning against the frame with what you thought was harmless confidence, “you don’t have to talk to yourself while reviewing film.”

sae hadn’t looked away from the film projected on the wall, though his posture straightened at the sound of your voice.

“i don’t.”

“...you mutter.”

sae then spares you the tiniest glance before averting his eyes back to where they originally were.

a quiet beat had passed before you smiled. “i’ll watch it with you.”

and that? that was the mistake you made, because watching film with itoshi sae sounded remarkably simple in theory: sit down, pay attention, listen while he picked apart every possession with the chilling accuracy only someone of his caliber could notice—and let’s not forget him asking for your perspective whenever he asked.

it was, objectively speaking, one of the easiest ways to spend an evening. the operative phrase, however, was pay attention. a task that should’ve required minimal effort under normal circumstances. unfortunately, these were far from normal circumstances, because the person sitting right beside you happened to be itoshi sae: your boyfriend, who possessed the deeply inconvenient habit of being distracting without appearing remotely aware of it.

you just couldn’t help yourself. the projector cast shifting lines of pale green and blue across his face, lighting up every aspect of his face, every sharp line that usually made him seem so…untouchable softened under the glow. every few seconds, the changing footage altered the lighting, further contributing to your lack of attention on where it should be, and not him.

so far, he asked you at least two questions about the film, and luckily, you weren’t too far gone—yet. you were able to answer one or two that satisfied him.

you continued to ogle at him; his brows drew together ever so slightly whenever something didn’t unfold the way he intended. his lips pressed into a thin line. concentration suited him very well, in fact.

then, the remote clicked softly in his hand. your attention followed the movement before you could stop it. his fingers were long and steady, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles over the worn buttons—caressing every soft edge. you cross your legs, trying to mitigate the sudden throbbing that overtook your lower half.

you forced your gaze to move higher. huge mistake.

sae’s sleeves were pushed just high enough to reveal his forearms, the muscles shifting almost imperceptibly beneath his skin whenever he adjusted his grip. nothing dramatic, nor anything intentionally impressive, yet his mere existence drove you further into losing your mind to arousal that grew between your legs.

your eyes lingered a second too long, then another as you noticed a faint vein traced over the back of his hand, disappearing beneath the cuff of his sleeve before reappearing as his fingers flexed around the remote.

“what happened there?”

his voice cut cleanly through the haze of your thoughts. you turn your head, blinking dumbly at the screen

“hm?” he presses.

sae then shifted his attention to you with an all-too-knowing look in his cerulean eyes. he continued to look at you, head cocked to the side, waiting to see if you’d lie to him.

your mouth parted, but nothing came out. you stared at the paused projection as though the answer might magically present itself to you if you looked long enough.

and guess what? it didn’t.

“i...” you trailed off, guilt flooding your chest, heavy and profound. “i don’t know.”

“you don’t know,” sae echoed your words. nothing about it was accusatory; if anything, it sounded observational and amused.

you let out a quiet breath, confirming his statement. “no…”

sae’s gaze flickered briefly across your face before returning to your eyes, nodding to himself. “you’re distracted, yeah?” he hummed, “but i know what will make you pay attention.”

you frowned, grateful for anything that shifted the conversation away from your rapidly mounting embarrassment and arousal.

“...you do?”

wordlessly, he sets the remote down. “stand up.”

you give him a puzzled look, but you stand up regardless. sae leans back in his chair with a nonchalant sprawl, gesturing for you to stand in front of him with his head.

“take those off.” he commands, eyes honed in on your bottom half. you shuddered with blatant excitement, the byproduct of it saturating your panties, the wetness clinging to you as you followed his demand.

you hooked your thumbs beneath the waistband and slid them down your legs, pooling at your feet. you stood idly by, waiting for another wish of his to be voiced, but he simply held your eye as he undid the button at his waist with quiet efficiency, easing his pants down—along with his boxers only a fraction, enough for his jutting erection to spring out from their confinement, lying upright against his stomach, angry and flushed.

“come here.”

the words were delivered with such calm certainty that they sounded less and less like a simple instruction. you resist the overwhelming urge to turn around, grab your pants discarded on the floor, and pretend this entire interaction never happened.

instead, you kept walking. closer.

close enough to now notice the faint scent of fresh detergent lingering on his shirt, mixed with the clean, almost cool fragrance that always seemed to follow him after matches.

“sit on it. but i want you facing the screen.”

inside, your thoughts had dissolved into complete chaos. but none of that stopped you from maneuvering your body into his lap, legs on either side of his, pushing your panties to the side and using your hand to help position his cock against your entrance.

sae offered no hand to help you, only leaning back as he watched you seat yourself slowly, relishing the facile descent you took down his shaft. his hands grip the armrests on either side at the breathless sound of you, attempting to hold himself back from repossessing control and fucking you right then and there. but no. he was going to teach you how to pay attention.

and now, that properly explains how you ended up in this situation.

the shape of him nudged every deep-rooted nerve that lit up at the subtlest movement. it was torture. sae reached toward the projector remote resting beside him. instead of taking it back, he slid it into your shaking palm, fingers brushing yours for only an instant.

“you’ll control the film,” he says, restraint thin in his voice as a hand came up to engulf your neck, keeping a light pressure on your throat, ensuring your attention was locked on the film that shone brightly on the wall, ridiculing you. “and if i catch you looking away, i stop.”

the remote suddenly felt heavy in your hand, but you nodded anyway, pressing play. figures moved across the wall, all equally adept at the sport as they ran across the field.

but you couldn't care less when you almost drop the remote, a gasp worming its way out of your lips. sae ground upwards into you, dragging the head of his cock over that spongy surface deep inside you. you endure the pleasure, not allowing your eyes to drift away from the screen, afraid he’d stop.

seconds morph into minutes, and he’s steadily rolling his hips. muffled groans and sighs come from behind you. you could tell he was watching you, an interminable stare that almost brought you to the edge. you then felt his hand snake around the curve of your hip, fingers prodding at your sensitive clit, moving in a painstakingly slow motion, like how he did with that remote.

you almost doubled over, and you just couldn’t help yourself. you risk a tiny glance downward to see his skilled hand drawing circles over your clit, along with the almost impalpable thrust of his hips; a moist ring forming at the base of his cock.

a whistle sounded from the footage, and distinct shouts from the stadium roared as it made your eyes snap back up to where they were supposed to be.

but it was too late; he saw you. of course he fucking did.

sae immediately stopped, his hold around your neck tightened as he pulled your spine against his chest, lips against your ear as the loose strands of his hair ghosted your cheek.

“didn’t i tell you not to look away?” he intoned.

“yes! m’ sorry sae...”

he gives a punctual thrust into your pussy, stretching deeper than before. “now pay attention, slut.”

in one fluid movement, he removes his hold from your throat, snatching up both of your wrists to constrict them against your back with one hand alone, before his other hand returns home to your throat, possessive and immovable.

“you wanna cum? yeah?” he asks you, groaning softly in your ear. his thrust picking up in pace, each pang of pleasure striking you down like agonizing thunder. your hips start to move impatiently, eager to meet his thrust head-on.

“mmph! yes. i wanna cum sae!”

“then be a good slut and pay attention, and maybe i’ll let you cum,” he places a brisk kiss in the juncture of your neck, releasing your wrists. “you wanted to watch with me. you wanna be good for me, yeah? then show me.”

from the outset, this had proven difficult. trying to narrow your focus, taking one steady breath after another, fixing your gaze where it needed to be, willing your mind to be somewhat present despite the hand lingering around your throat, and every attempt to push aside the feeling of his cock grinding into you only made you more aware of it, until the pleasure demanded your undivided attention. it was so damn hard. you moan in both pleasure and frustration. your hands grip the armrests on either side of you, your riding grows more insistent, more pleading, more impatient.

your eyes threaten to flutter closed and just suffer the consequences, but a commentator's voice rose with sudden excitement before dissolving beneath the static murmur of the crowd.

“please sae, please make me cum..." you whine, growing more susceptible to looking away.

sae grunts in response, his grip on you getting tighter. “yeah? you want it? "

you nod furiously, your orgasm threatening to unravel any second—and whilst you ride his cock like the good girl you are, you manage to keep your eyes open and pointed straight at the film.

"film isn't done yet." he jeers, using his hand to prop your head up more, ensuring you won't avert your eyes; slowing down, purposely denying your orgasm.

you exhale sharply through your nose, a quiet sound of frustration leaking out of you before you could stop it.

sae kept watching you, his restraint wearing thin but resolute. "go back to the last play."

you tense at his command, hands far from stable as you fight it; clicking the rewind button to go ten seconds back.

"good." he whispers against you, picking up his pace as he grants you a moment of reprieve. "we're almost done."

you stare at nothing particular, the screen fading into a distant memory. it was unrelenting, having to sit there and endure—patiently wait until the film reached its conclusion.

sae could tell you were waiting for it to end—shit, he was too. it showed in the way your focus thinned at the edges, no longer fully anchored on the screen. your attention still landed on where it was supposed to be, but it didn't...stay. the twitches in your face of poorly contained pleasure, and the string of moans that left your lips.

there was no way he was going to last another fucking second. but the match was nearly over, and he knew by the cadence alone. the tempo on the field began to change, the urgency in the players, and the sporadic voices in the film.

sae exhaled once, quiet and sharp. you notice him move at the very end, too late to fully register it before it happened. the remote was in your hand one minute, and gone the next.

“fuck—fuck it—” sae's hips stutter, a pathetic whimper leaving his lips as his resolve crumbles the longer he’s sheathed inside you. tossing the remote away to god knows where. “cum with me—i’ll let you cum—you did so good f’me baby—"

as if you were a genie waiting for his wish, your orgasm came fast enough to steal the breath from your lungs, instinctive and merciless as you convulsed in his hold after running on borrowed patience for the past 30 minutes, his name leaving your lips in a lewd mantra only he could hear.

sae leans forward, arms repositioning themselves to wrap around your midsection, keeping you firmly seated on his dick while he pumps his cum into you, and not once does he loosen his hold.

through dazed eyes, you glance up to see the film had ended. fingers loosening against the armrest, and even your breathing started to slow, settling into something more natural.

"god..." you murmur underneath your breath, more to yourself than anything.

sae didn't respond immediately, but you could feel him loosening his grip around you, settling down as he pressed another kiss on your shoulder, his cock comfortable and rooted deep, not making a move to push you away or pull out.

“remind me to never watch film with you again.”

“you’re sick” 

the words left your lips sharper than intended, a sharp point of furry, cutting clean through the humid air between you and him. 

shidou ryusei didn’t even flinch, unperturbed by your glaring stare, barely penetrating the surface of his calm facade. 

if anything, his expression shifts like he’s been waiting for you to finally say something worth reacting to. the corner of his mouth lifts slowly, almost lazily, as if he were finally starting to register the words you spat at him; like your irritation was a piece of entertainment he desperately missed. 

“i told you i’d find you, baby,” 

that word: baby. it would be enough to make you retch onto the worn concrete between your feet. but your anger was too encompassing, too distracting for you to expel your dinner. 

you force your face to remain as neutral as possible, but your body gives you away; slight tremors dance in your limbs, the rigidity in your shoulders, a small shift of weight pulling you back, like distance could fix whatever distorted image was unfolding before your eyes. 

you haven’t spoken to him in well over a week, and that wasn’t an accident. 

it started as a silence; no initiation of communication and no engagement. you ceased giving him an ounce of attention. you thought he’d get bored of your unresponsiveness and move on, move on to whatever chaos usually kept him occupied in his professional football world. 

but shidou didn’t budge, he refused to move on and your abrupt absence enraged him. because now? he’s standing in front of you like your actions were something personal. like you took something from him and he came to collect it in person. 

“you ignored me for two weeks,” he says calmly, rolling his shoulders back slightly as if loosening up his joints for something imminent. “i didn’t like that.” 

you scoff, forcing the edge back into your voice. “that sounds like a you problem.” 

“no,” he corrects, stepping just half a pace closer, hands shoved into his pockets. it was a subtle movement, but it made your heart tighten nonetheless. “that became your problem the second i decided it was.” 

you narrow your eyes, juggling your attention between the space between you and the car door, to you and shidou. at that moment, the gnawing sensation of helplessness melded into your bones, and you turn away first, because staying feels wrong. 

you reach for the door handle, then his voice stops you again. 

“hey.”

you freeze before you even think about it. that’s the problem with him—with you. the way your body reacts so compliantly with anything except logic. 

slowly, you turn your head despite yourself. 

shidou is still there, hands in his pockets, posture loose like he’s just killing time. but his attention and gait are almost predatory. it’s all focused and patient. 

he then tilts his head in thought, a rueful smile breaking out on his lips. 

“you know what?” he says, “i’ll give you a chance.” 

your breath stutters as you look at him wearily. the profuse sweat from your palm completely saturates the door handle.

“a chance for what?” 

his smile turns outright mischievous now, almost playful. but there’s something underlying that doesn’t sit right. 

“to give you a proper chance to run away,” he says, enunciating each word like it mattered, drilling it into your consciousness. “right now.” 

you don’t move. 

shidou inhales sharply, chest rising with the bountiful rush of air entering his lungs, almost as if he were smelling your hesitation and fear. 

“and~ if i catch you,” he continues, stepping back slightly, allowing you space. “i’m going to make it clear what happens when you ignore me. simple as that” 

the implication isn’t even fully formed, but your brain fills in the gaps anyway. 

your body reacts before your thoughts formulate, or analyze the way his expression locked onto yours, excitement filtering into his gaze. 

you simply…run. because what other choice did you have? and the first few seconds, it was sheer adrenaline and disorienting. 

the parking lot gives way quickly to uneven ground and scattered brush. the initial plan was to lose him in the thicket of trees, pushing for the sparse tree line that would spit you out on the other side of town. the trek would be long and consuming, but the way the world narrowed as soon as you stepped into the dense woods, that thought taunted you. 

unseen branches snag your sleeves, leaves whip against your front as you fight to swipe them away. the ground shifts from packed dirt to loose roots threatening to trip you if you lose focus. 

your breathing turns loud and fast, too quickly. every inhale in your chest feels like a needle pricking your lungs, every exhale is more desperate than the last. you don’t look back at first; your resolve simply refused to, but your ears were tuned to everything around you. 

no footsteps yet. 

ducking beneath a low branch, something noticeable slips from your back pocket. the profound feeling of something comfortable leaving you too soon. you didn’t stop until you finally registered what it was. your phone. and that was imperative. 

you stop instantly, turning to the gently illuminated trees, sunset taking its shift across the canopy. you curse loudly as you jog back a few paces to where you think it fell, dropping to the ground to feel along the undergrowth, searching desperately for your phone, and the more you search, the more hysterical you become. 

“fuck! where is it!” 

a voice cuts through your outburst. 

“looking for this?” 

your entire body locks. 

shidou steps out from between two parent trees like he was already there, revealing himself in the jagged light that was dimming by the second. that same light catching the edges of his face, enough to display that same infuriating expression: entertained and manic. 

your phone is in his hand as he pretends to inspect it closely. then, he turns the phone over to reveal the webbed cracking that splintered through the screen. 

“give it back, ryusei.” you say immediately, sharper than you feel. 

shidou hums thoughtfully, already looking at the screen instead of you. he taps it once, then again. and then—effortlessly—he unlocks it. 

“don’t—” you start, leaping forward. 

he doesn’t look up. 

“hold on baby, i’m just checking something...” he cooed, voice distracted, like you’re not currently spiraling. he then opens the camera app, triggering the flash function. 

was he—was he recording? your pulse spikes at this revelation. 

“i’m serious ryusei, give me my phone back.” you argue weakly, barely moving an inch to recapture your phone. 

he finally glances up at you, amusement dancing in his slitted pupils. “why? you gonna cry about it?”

your face morphs into a glare. “i’m going to—” 

“what?” he interrupts sharply with a mocking smile, “run again?” 

that shuts you up for half a second too long. he lifts the phone higher, capturing you in the frame without permission. the camera interface glows faintly in the dark, casting a weak light across his tanned skin. the piercing light blinds you as you throw up a hand to shield your eyes. 

“i can’t fucking wait to watch this video when i’m done.” he grins wickedly as he watches you with rapt attention through the camera. 

your back hits something solid; your mind finally becomes cognizant that your legs have moved on their own accord, repositioning you further away from the perceived threat, but he stalks towards you in retaliation. 

he was unbearably close now; you could practically smell his scent paired with the woodsy environment. you tilt your head away, avoiding eye contact as strongly as possible. you could feel him studying you, every breath you take, every stuttering jump your pulse takes in the hollow of your throat. you try to steady your breath, but it’s become harder than before. standing still with him in this way makes the rush of unwanted memories flood back into your mind, like your body doesn’t know what to do with the proximity it was given—especially by him 

“you know what i’m gonna do to you, baby?” 

you offer a weak shake of your head, refusing to reward him with an answer. 

shidou sucks his teeth in irritation. “why don’t you start by looking at me when i’m fucking talking to you.” 

a hand cups the outline of your jaw, forcefully pulling your gaze to catch his. 

“you’re gonna take what i give you, right babe? you’re gonna take every part of me that i give you until you say my name.” 

his words shot you like a heavy bullet. you relinquish a gasp of momentary pleasure, as a slow, swelling awareness of arousal seeps into your being, far too immense to be captured by language. 

shidou kisses you, and it doesn’t start gently, like something inside finally snapped the last thread of restraint. his lips met yours in an entanglement of impatience, and for a brief moment, your breath stalls from the sheer force of it. abandoning all logical resolve, you reciprocate the kiss with the same amount of fervor. there was something wrong with you. the way you matched his intensity; your poorly concealed desire for him to take you in the middle of no fucking where. 

his lips pause in their assault, shifting to the column of your neck, persistent as they contrast between softness and domination. his hands roam your body with the sole purpose of refamiliarizing himself with your body after the time lost. you moan in his hold, against his unadulterated need for him to be right in between your legs

your bottoms are ripped away with haste, along with your panties, as you watch him half-lidded, your thighs house themselves over his shoulders—but your eyes pick up on something else: your phone. it was propped up directly underneath you, getting a perfect view of your glistening folds and the enticing position shidou took up with his face in between your legs. 

as if he senses your gaze, he glances up at you through his thick lashes. there was mischief there first, that unmistakable spark that always appeared in his eyes before he did something reckless or completely lost himself to the sport he loves. 

his gaze wandered only half a second to your core, sitting in front of him, but it immediately snapped back up, like he was struggling to ignore you any longer. 

“oh… you worried about the phone?” he jeered, tongue slipping from his lips to give a long, languorous stroke to your pussy. 

your body jolts, unprepared. how could one action prove to be so overwhelming? a quiet hitch in your breath, fingers curling instinctively against your own palm, every muscle seeming to hesitate. 

“don’t worry, baby,” he says lightly, almost laughing at you. “it’s just for me…” he slowly descended again with the full intention of never coming back up. then, after a beat, his grin curled higher. “...and maybe i’ll show a friend.” 

his fingers dug into your skin like an anchor, his tongue coming to flick the bundle of nerves in the apex of your thighs before capturing it in his mouth in a brutal suck. 

your jaw slacks open, finally receiving the relief—the satisfaction of his mouth working against you. your fingers reach to curl into his pink-tipped tresses, while the other hand holds the outer shell of the tree behind you to find purchase. you knew he could easily support you, put the immense pleasure threatened you into thinking you could fall at any moment. 

your head hit the back of the tree, eyes slipping close for only a heartbeat, savoring the tip of his tongue circling your clit in a steady motion, lingering for a moment before dragging along your slit, breaching your entrance. 

the fluttering presence of your orgasm grew in the pit of your stomach, behind your ribs, filling every space of your mind. 

you told yourself not to look, not to look at him between your thighs, afraid of what you might see. but curiosity was a patient thing, the way he kept…moaning against your pussy—you had to look. 

your head shifts down, and the moment your eyes meet, you almost come right then and there. the pink in his irises was strangely vivid; a faint color lifted across his cheeks. the further your eyes strayed down, the more you saw that he was palming himself through his pants—to you. he abruptly stopped touching himself, like it was something you were never supposed to see. 

shidou corrects his hold with both hands this time, and he leans forward without so much as thinking, assaulting you harder as if he were punishing you for looking. his tongue swept against you in one broad motion, quicker this time, driving you on the precipice of an orgasm. 

“fuck—please ryusei–!” you plead. 

he pauses, all the gathered slick painting his face as he removed himself—only slightly. 

“tell me it feels good.” he mumbles against your pussy.

two digits slide past your lips, an intrusion enough to steal your breath. your back lifts off the bark as his fingers massage that tuned spot deep inside you.

your eyes blur as a couple stray tears cascade down your cheeks from the intensity of his mouth and fingers working you open. you try to say something, anything, but your voice wouldn’t work. 

“tell me you need me—and i swear on everything i’ll give you what you want,” his words came out strained, desperation leaking through his facade, and he wasn’t keen on trying to hide it. shidou continued to watch the moans spill from your lips and the sweet contortion of your face. his hand subconsciously coming back down to rub himself to your lewd noises. “shit, c’mon, babe. please tell me you fucking need me—i’ll fuck you so good—”

you didn’t even give him the slightest chance to finish that sentence. your breath broke first, sharp and uneven as if your lungs had forgotten how to cooperate. 

“yes! yes yes yes please i need you.” 

his expression changed without warning, like another version of him had snapped back into place. as he properly looked up at you, a low smile threatened at the corner of his mouth. he darted up from his kneeling position in the dirt, a hand engulfing the back of your head as he gripped the strands of your hair, tilting your head back. shidou uses his thumb to part your flushed lips, allowing room for his invading fingers to push through and rest along your tongue, the same fingers he used to spear you with. your tongue swirled around them, taste buds flooding with the taste of you. 

it happened so quickly; all you could do was squint your eyes at the last second. shidou took a picture of you: face dewy and framed by moisture, lids halfway over your eyes, lips parted over his fingers invading your mouth, alive with a lingering adrenaline that blended seamlessly with your arousal. 

“good girl.” 

that was all you heard before that two-faced bastard tossed your phone like an insignificant piece of garbage, before leaning in to give you a ravaging kiss, leaving no sliver of opportunity for you to protest.  

one moment, you were grounded, on your own two feet, and the next, the world shifted upward as your balance disappeared entirely. there was a brief, instinctive jolt; arms locking around his shoulders as a teether. your weight had been gathered and carried as if it had never been an obstacle at all. 

“all i wanna hear is my name coming from that mouth, yeah babe?” 

an opportunity for you to respond was never granted. nothing could have prepared you for the stretch—the unforgiving motion of his member sheathing itself inside you until it physically couldn’t anymore. the feeling of him filling you, priming you, was something you could relive over and over again. you lean back, sighing with pleasure as your fingers rake the fabric that clothed his back. 

“so fucking good—” 

his hands grip you harder, pulling all your weight into him and practically lifting you halfway off, before driving his dick further and further inside. the world around you dulled, only sensitized to his cock drilling you and the filthy words he was whispering against the shell of your ear: how good you felt,  how pliant you were, how you were an excitement nothing else could ever bring. 

you had no control over your body, hips moving to meet his disparaging thrusts, head lolling back against the bark. 

“ryusei…m’ gonna cum—” you hiccup a moan, startled at the new angle he has you in: shidou precariously puts one of your legs over his shoulder, gravity starting to pull you down in his bruising hold. 

“hah?” he pretends not to hear, glancing up at you. “say that again?” 

you swallow your saliva, hoping to become more audible amidst the moans that come listlessly from your mouth. 

“you’re—” you don’t even finish, hooked on the vicious way he was pumping in and out of you, the crest of your orgasm approaching tenfold. 

“what were you gonna say?” the smile on his face spread way too quickly, pupils locked in on your expression with almost unsettling clarity, like whatever satisfaction had taken hold wasn’t fleeting and it was just settling in. 

“you’re gonna make me cum ryusei—!” you blurt out, hands reaching out to grip his forearms. 

“yeah? go ahead and cum on this dick that owns you.” 

whatever little piece of yourself you had been holding—calm, control, or even certainty—loosened rapidly in irreversible increments. your grip on him became tighter, a tremor forcing its way through your body at the crest of your orgasm. a raw, unfiltered sound came from your throat as you clenched around him, coming undone. 

he groaned at the crude way you cried out, trembling with your orgasm. his thrusts never let up, they never allowed you a moment of calm. desperate to chase his own high, he maneuvers your leg off his shoulder, hauling you up to be flushed up against him, chest to chest. shidou’s hands splayed over the expanse of your ass, driving you up and down, never ceasing his torture. some part of you happily obliged to help him, hooking your legs around his waist to help facilitate his ministrations while you rode through your high.

a smile ghosts his lips, shuddering with the exhilaration that came with fucking you. you felt him pulse within your walls before his movements stuttered with his ejaculation, and if he somehow could, he tried to push you down even further on his cock, ensuring your womb absorbed every ounce of what he had to give you. 

shidou moaned loudly in your hold, finally slowing to a halt. “yeah, you ain’t fucking leaving me now,” he said breathlessly. 

you only gripped him tighter, recognition settling into your fucked out brain, and somewhere along the way, you stopped choosing to notice the moment you became a part of him.