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“Oi. Isagi. Catch.”
Yoichi was used to Rin’s petulance at this point and instinctively fumbled with the object that was thrown at his face with little regard. Rin was the type to not keep a case on his smartphone, caring so little about it that it wouldn’t matter if the device was damaged since he ‘didn’t see the need to be bothered by people anyways’. Besides, he was spoilt rich enough to buy a new one if it did end up breaking.
“Tell my girlfriend I’ll be late,” he all but ordered in a flat voice. “Password is 1234.”
“What am I, your PA?!”
Without even bothering to entertain him with a response, Rin stalked off to where reporters eagerly clamoured his name, their questions so frantic that they overlapped into senseless noise. Everybody knew that if Rin had it his way, he wouldn’t be present in a single interview or press conference. But, one of the few voices of authority Rin actually deigned to listen to in the world included his coach. Said coach demanded that Rin show face as one of the driving forces in Japan’s cultural reset in international football.
Yoichi couldn’t help but smile wryly at the look of irritation and discomfort on Rin’s sweaty face as mics were pushed into his face. Despite how long it had been since they first crossed paths in Blue Lock, Rin hadn’t changed much at all. Even after the time they had spent as rivals, and now as teammates again, Rin severely lacked respect for Yoichi despite being his junior.
But he figured he might as well do as Rin asked. Better that than to cause you any needless worry because Yoichi was too stubborn to follow up on a simple favour.
“One two three four… what is he, a kid?”
He plopped down on the bench in the men’s changeroom, which was already cleared out, eerily silent. By the time Yoichi had finished his post-match press conference, the rest of the team had already packed up and gone home to rest up before the next game. He was definitely feeling the exhaustion from a physically excruciating game—being at match point and forcing a tie-breaker isn’t exactly easy work. But it’s not every day you get to say you’re living the dream, so he wasn’t complaining.
Rin seemed to be living the dream, too. Yoichi remembered being so floored by the fact that somebody was willing to date Rin Itoshi that he genuinely thought it was a joke. He figured Rin was just lying about his relationship status to ward off nosiness, so he played along without really buying in. Every time that Rin mentioned a girlfriend—which was already scarce enough to begin with—Yoichi simply waved it off without thinking. Then, you came along to a dinner party, hanging off of Rin’s arm like a decorative jewel, and he realized that you weren’t made up. He remembered that night to this day because he had so thoroughly embarrassed himself by gawking.
“You must be Yoichi Isagi,” you had purred in such a wondrously feminine, alluring voice that his heart dropped out of his ass. You extended your manicured hand for a handshake. Your nails had been a deep cherry red that night. “Wow. Sorry, I’m a bit star-struck. I’ve heard so much about you, but it doesn’t feel real to be meeting somebody so famous.”
He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from blurting out, “well, I didn’t think you were real either”. Your compliments were making his face bright red, so hot that he wouldn’t be able play it off even if he were confident enough to try. Having come from humble roots, it was still surreal to become a household name after his sports career took off. It was especially disorientating to have such an attractive woman saying these things to him. It was the most he could manage to shake your impossibly small and soft hand, mutter a ‘nice to meet you too’ before excusing himself to flee. That was the last time he saw you, which wasn’t surprising considering how private of a person Rin was. The memory of how awkward he had been still made him cringe to this day.
Regardless, he just had to send you a short text, right? Rin didn’t exactly have many contacts to sort through, and it seemed that you had already sent him something, an unread message notification beside your name in his messaging app. He was in the middle of chugging a sports drink when he mindlessly clicked into the conversation and froze.
In his defence, he didn’t purposefully mean to see this picture. It was an accident. How could he have known that you had sent this to Rin? You—your body, more specifically, your face cropped to leave only a suggestive smirk—adorned in black lace that contoured every single curve of your body in ways he could have never imagined. Your tits were basically spilling out of your bra, begging to be touched. Your back, slightly arched. That waist sloping to a diamond shaped belly-button. Thighs plush, soft, decorated with a garter that had a cute little bow, though the intent was everything but innocent.
22:05
Congrats on the win.
He almost dropped the phone onto the tiles, salvaging it by hugging the device into his chest. His heart pounded against his ribcage in shock. Oh, god—he should not have seen that. That was most definitely not for him. And—huh? Rin was the type of person to be into sexting? That in of itself was mind blowing.
Nevermind—what the hell was he supposed to say to this? ‘Nice. See u later’? Should he apologize as himself that he had mistakenly viewed something private not meant for his eyes? How was it that every interaction with you was so mortifying?!
His brain felt like it was short-circuiting as it whirred into action. Firstly, would you even know that he had gotten into Rin’s phone? Probably not. You couldn’t know who was on the other end of your texts, unless he himself told you. The decision weighed heavily on his conscience all of the sudden and he was frozen. Did he tell you the truth or keep it to himself? Also, Rin would know that he had seen it. Then what?
But this wasn’t the first time he’d been in a sticky situation with seconds on the clock. Forcing himself to stop panicking, he tried to think, the same way he’d approach a goal in the middle of a tense game. He already knew that Rin never had read receipts on, having been on the receiving end of Rin’s flat texts. You would never know whether he (or he) had seen the picture or not. Quickly exiting out of the messaging app, he shut the phone off and squeezed the power button.
“Hey Siri—send a text to [Name],” he hissed to the AI impatiently.
“Sure. What would you like me to send?” it chirped back pleasantly.
“‘Be home late’.”
“Okay. ‘Be home late’. Should I send that text to [Name]?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, I sent it.”
That would leave a sent by Siri signature that would allow him to play dumb in the rare case that Rin decided to ask any questions. Crisis averted; time to forget all about that. He practically flung Rin’s phone onto the bench in front of Rin’s locker, hurriedly grabbing his own stuff and ducking out.
Did he feel bad for seeing something he shouldn’t have? Sure. It was a violation of your privacy with your partner. But, did he wish he’d never seen it? If he could erase the memory of you modelling lingerie from his head, would he?
Absolutely not.
By the time he got home, he was still obsessively trying to retrace the image of your curves in his mind’s eye. It was only after he got into the shower that he allowed his tense shoulders to slump over, softening under the hot water.
He couldn’t help being so wishy-washy, sighing deeply with frustration. Yoichi had never had a girlfriend before and wasn’t exactly well-versed in the unwritten rules of relationships. People loved to try and get close to him now that he was famous, and the attention was starkly different to what he’d experienced growing up—but nobody had ever caught his eye enough to distract him from soccer. Not the way you had occupied his thoughts… and of course, you were the one girl he couldn’t have.
Was it really such a bad thing to fantasize over his teammate’s girlfriend? A fantasy couldn’t hurt anybody if it stayed safe in his skull. The steam addled his already exhausted brain enough to convince him that Rin probably wouldn’t mind if he borrowed his girlfriend’s visage for a little bit.
“Welcome home, baby.”
He hadn’t even dropped his bags yet before you had pressed up to his front in a hug, tilting your chin up to grin at him as you laced your arms around his waist. His eyes darted between your sultry expression to the way that black lace clung to your body, unable to pick something to focus on. He sighed, trying to play it cool, acting like he wasn’t over the moon to be coming home to somebody like you.
“You don’t waste any time, do you?” he teased, shrugging off his duffel to free his hands. He ran them up and down your arms, tracing the goosebumps beneath his palms, sliding them down your back before squeezing your ass by the handful. The straps of your lingerie were silky against your soft skin. It was one thing to see you posed for him on his phone, but another to actually get to touch you.
“You looked hot in your interview,” you whispered. “I couldn’t wait for you any longer.”
“You’re really the impatient type…” A quiet chuckle slipped from his lips as you pulled him down for a kiss, slow and sweet before you cheekily bit his bottom lip, swiping your wet tongue across his teeth.
Rin didn’t exist in the world—you were all his, no strings attached. He was your winner. The recipient of all your affections. His cock, which had already practically been at half-mast during his entire commute home, throbbed painfully in his fist, desperate for touch.
“Oh?”
Straddling him on the couch, your thick, pillowy thighs were already starting to tremble around him just from his finger stroking the vertex between your thighs alone. He didn’t expect to already find a slick dampness through your thong after tracing his fingers down your navel. Your pupils were blown as you quirked your lips into a knowing smirk.
“Told you… couldn’t wait.”
You suddenly crawled backwards, off of him onto the floor, where you knelt in front of him so prettily it took his breath away. You flicked your hair behind your shoulders, eyes flickering up to his through your dark lashes as you silently asked for permission.
What kind of idiot would say no to you?
“Say… if I’m getting all this treatment because I won, what would you have done if I lost the game?”
“I don’t think an all-star MVP should even be thinking about losing,” you teased. Your fingers were deft as they freed his cock from his boxers and shorts, its heat making him flinch against the cool air of his apartment’s A/C. You toyed with the tip of it, drawing a teasing circle with your finger as you flashed another coquettish grin up at him. Your hand wrapped loosely around him, slipping down to the shaft as you brought your lips closer. “But maybe I’d have worn the red one instead of this one.”
“So you have more—oh, god…”
Even in his fantasy, he was putty, completely under your control. The slick soap was enough for him think of your mouth, working up and down his shaft with such an urgent desire to please that he could actually feel himself losing his rationality one drop at a time.
“Baby—ngh… you keep doin’ that and I’m going to cum early.”
He had to grab your hair to stop you bobbing up and down with your hand. You sucked him off so feverishly that all he wanted to do was cum down your throat and let you swallow every drop of him. You’d probably lick your lips all cute, too. But he shouldn’t waste this chance to take his time with you, especially since you were thoughtful enough as to dress up for the occasion.
He hauled you back up and into his lap, reverently massaging your tits before flicking your hardened nipples through the fabric. Slipping them free just enough to lay his tongue on them, he gently rolled the peak against his teeth. You shuddered, dropping your head into the crook of his neck with an almost pathetic mewl. He loved how your body twitched against his, betraying how much pleasure he was making you feel even as you tried to hold your breath to suppress your moans. Your hips gyrated against him, consciously or not, and the friction against his cock was so heavenly he had to grab your hip and guide you more meaningfully.
He needed to control his pace if he was going to last, even in his own imagination. He was already bracing himself against one of the cool shower walls, pressing his hot face to the porcelain as he breathed shakily. Yoichi couldn’t bring himself to skip any of the foreplay or pretend lover shit; just the thought alone of your whimpers was making him close.
“God, you’re so beautiful—"
You sat yourself down on his cock slowly, your legs trembling with each centimeter until your hips rejoined his. You arched your back, placing your hands on his shoulders, experimentally rolling your hips over his. You ground his cock deeper and deeper into yourself until you were stuffed with him. He felt his head drop back with each wave of intense pleasure, a visceral groan rising up from the tension in his core. You were so fucking good. So tight. So horny. So wet.
All for him, because of him.
“Go on,” he encouraged. You heaved for breath, sitting still, cock warming, letting him stretch your precious cunt wide. You flinched as his tongue traced the shell of your ear, possessively worrying your soft lobe between his teeth. “Fuck me the way you wanted to when you were alone, sending me those slutty pictures of yourself. Use me to make yourself feel good, darling.”
You obediently raised and lowered yourself, your hot cum slick on his cock. Your speed picked up erratically with his praise, tits bouncing in front of his face. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you found a rhythm to chase. He was mesmerized.
Fuck. You were such a fucking perfect woman.
“Y-Yoichi,” you stammered out, moans catching on each breath as you ground your hips into his. “So… mm—! So good…”
“You like my cock in you?” he continued to goad, his voice deeper and huskier than he had ever known it. You were so receptive to his voice, flinching, your cunt squeezing him with unabashed desire as he growled into your ear. “You feel how hard I am for you in this cute little pussy? Keep fucking me like that. I’m all yours.”
“A-ah—nn—yes, Yoichi, yes! Yours…”
Your soft moans grew in volume when he started to add his own momentum, grabbing your hips on either side, using his strength to drive you onto his cock. You surrendered to him immediately, allowing him to rut into you with almost bruising strength and speed. He was addicted to chasing a louder, more wrangled moan out of you—a stronger contraction as you writhed against him, nails dragging into his skin as you tried to contain your own pleasure.
“You look so fucking good in this outfit,” he snarled into your ear, unable to hold himself back anymore as he fucked you in earnest, fighting the urge to orgasm so he could fuck you to the point where you had to beg him to stop. “I couldn’t wait to come home to you and touch you. Bend you over. Piston my cock into you. Yeah? Do I make you feel good, Princess?”
“Mm—s-so deep—ah—!”
“Don’t be shy, now. I know you want all the neighbours to know what it’s like when Yoichi Isagi fucks you.” He slowed his pace but pulled you to his chest as he tilted his hips up, screwing you even deeper than he had before. Your eyes rolled and your pink tongue, the one that had swirled and sucked on his cock, lolled from your lips with each bounce. You were already so fucked out. It was adorable.
“C’mon baby, don’t give up on me just yet. Cum on my cock. Show me how much better it is to get fucked by me than your own fingers.”
“Nn…! G-gonna c-cum…”
“Yeah? Cum for me, babygirl. Be a good girl and cum right now.”
“Ah—!”
Obediently, your back snapped into an arch and he felt you clamping down like you wanted to take his soul with you during your ascension. Your legs shook, your nails dug tight into his flesh to find some sort of grounding as your entire body was rocked with a mind-melting orgasm. He struggled to hold his own footing as you rode him through it, your walls clenched so tightly around him he thought he might lose it.
Shit. He was getting close—had to wrap it up soon. His arm was almost sore with how desperately he was jerking himself off, pretending he was balls deep into a woman he barely had the courage to face, but he could tell that this orgasm was about to knock him off his feet.
“What, you thought I was done with you?”
You had collapsed forwards onto him, twitching each time he mercilessly drove up into you. Your moans were hoarse as you mumbled his name like a mantra, gripping his arm in a weak attempt to stop him.
“My turn.”
He dissolved all restraint and let himself go. He felt himself moaning into your ear, stuttering and breathy gasps at first before they rumbled deep from his chest. He had wanted this—you—for so long. Your lips found his and the way you let his tongue dominate your mouth reminded him of how deeply he needed you to belong to him.
“N-no—” you tried to protest, pulling at his hair, “t-too much—ah!”
“I know you can do it,” he hissed, somehow finding another energy spurt to fuck into you even faster. Your words melted into incoherent yelps again. God, you were so tight and wet. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last. “You love it, don’t you? Cumming over and over again on my cock? Does it feel good for you? Because it feels fucking great for me. There’s no running from me. There’s no stopping. Just try and keep taking it like a good little whore, okay? Keep cumming for me. My sweet, good girl—ugh—”
“O-oh—nn! Yoichi!”
“That’s right—say my name, tell me who owns you—”
“Y-you do!” you wailed. “It’s—need y-you… harder—nn—Yoichi, I’m gonna c… ah!”
“I’m cumming,” he realized, sweat dripping down his forehead as he gripped your hips even more tightly. He didn’t just like you. He loved you so much it hurt. His cock in and out of you, his heart swelling with adoration as he looked up at you. He didn’t own you nearly as much as you owned him.
“Are you ready?” he gasped. “Let’s cum together, okay, baby? Nngh—!”
You came again explosively, gripping onto him so tightly that he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to. He joined your shrieks of pleasure with his own grunts as he emptied himself deep inside of you, his entire body seized with pleasure that completely knocked him out of his world—
The fist in his mouth had teeth marks with how hard he was biting himself to shut himself up. Even with all the effort, he couldn’t stop himself from gasping as he came, squeezing his cock the way you had been in his head. Even his calves were cramping with the effort to contain himself as he came. He slumped against the wall, choking against the water as he struggled to catch his breath.
The shower washed away each filthy strand of cum before he could fully think about what had just happened, and the post-orgasm exhaustion floored him. He’d never cum that hard before in his life. It was like he’d just discovered masturbation or something again. No porn or hentai or whatever would ever be able to top that for him again.
It was a blur of what happened between getting out of the shower and flopping into his bed. He was sleepy enough to pass out before his head even hit the pillow. But, the lingering sense of guilt that he’d happily jerked off to the thought of fucking somebody else’s woman kept him awake. Groaning, he rolled over, pressing his pillow over his face as if to hide himself from the world. If only you had eyes for him instead. If only he was getting your pictures. If only he was the one hearing you say “I love you”. If only…
But it was just a fantasy, and that’s all it is. Make-believe. Non-reality. Because you were somebody off-limits that he couldn’t have, and there was absolutely no sense in having real feelings for you.
Fantasies don’t hurt anybody… except, maybe for him.