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batterygarden · 1 year

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Train on a Train | ft. Aged up! Pro players! Seishiro Nagi, Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira and Hyoma Chigiri

18+ MDNI

cw: fem & afab reader, explicit 5-some/orgy/train running, reader wears a skirt & lace panties & has hair which is gripped once, "princess" and "baby" pet names used, established relationship w Nagi, you and Nagi get sorta slutted out tbh, nagiri featured, bachisagi sorta featured (less seriously), borderline dubcon bc they don't ask reader if she's cool w everything although she is (i'll tag it), "pussy anytime pass" cashed in by Nagi lmao, semi-public sex, peeping toms, cuckolding, penetrative sex, oral (f + m recieving), face fucking, cum eating, some mlm oral/hand job in there, mult. orgasms & creampies, overstimulation, a little pussy inspection, a little dacryphilia, took many liberties w this like don't think about it too hard a/n: This is the most ridiculous fic I've ever written and It's also really special to me, pls enjoy the absurdities! I'd like to clarify that the train car I'm imaging for it is like the one in the header image--this is a huge and magical train they're in, okay. They have lots of space; this train layout does not make sense and I personally have not been on a train w a setup like this but I’ve seen it on tv / in movies so like. lol u just have to roll w it ! pls interact if ur into it and wanna talk ab bllk w me!! sending kissies. Thx for betaing bbg @millionsknife wk: 5.7 k!

“You’re heartless.”

Nagi’s voice is so serious and deadpan that you break focus from your book, and watch as his typical apathetic frown meets his eyes for a moment in a way that could fool any stranger into worrying.

But not you. He’s being subtle about it but you’re very familiar with Seishiro’s pouting routine—he’s upset you won’t surrender your phone for the last hour and a half of your train ride because somebody came unprepared with a low battery. His games were apparently more important than an ongoing text conversation with your friend!

“Am not, you big baby! Bring a charger next time.”

You don’t respond when he mumbles something about there not even being outlets under his breath, immediately re-engrossed in your story, ignoring his squirming and sighs.

You hear it when Nagi finally stills and drops his head against the window next to him, and he doesn’t even look at you when he speaks again.

“Whatever. ‘M using’ it now then.”

“You’re what?”

“My pass,” he pauses to yawn. “My free pussy pass or whatever.”

It takes you a second to even process his words. Then you wonder if he’s joking—sometimes with that blank-eyed stare it’s hard to tell.

“Sei, we’re on a train…?”

You didn’t think he’d use part of your valentines gift this way…truthfully you thought he’d forgotten about your little half-joke coupons you made him—he only ever cashed in the massage. He's never shown interest in public sex before… this is uncharted territory.

“Don’t care,” he sighs, his mouth twisting a little so his expression flashes mock sympathy. He pats his upper thigh.

“Hop on soldier.”

You laugh for a second and his lips twitch before he narrows his eyes at your hesitance, pouting openly this time.

“Come on. Was the pussy pass fake or something?”

You have to hold back another giggle. “Say pussy pass one more time.”

Your car’s door gets a lingering glance before you’re abandoning your book and phone, sliding carefully into his lap while he stares at you, looking deep in thought. You seize his pause as an opportunity to peck his lips—giving into him way too easily like always. You’re reminded of all your friends’ claims that you spoil him—suddenly certain they’re true when you feel his hands squeeze their way up your thighs till they’re under your skirt, the cool air hitting your ass in the middle of a public train.

“Well what else ‘m I supposed to call it?” He leans his head back against the wall, getting comfy in his seat while he kneads your hips atop him, feeling that the fabric of your panties is lacy.

You break your lips away from his neck where they’d drifted, glancing at the hall again before smiling at him.

“Just teasing. This is new though… will you watch the door? Otherwise I’ll be nervous.”

He nods for you, rubbing his thumbs reassuringly over your sides while his fingertips graze frilly straps.

He’s content just holding you like that a while longer, letting his eyelids droop while you work on his neck, but his fingers dig into your skin when he feels you bite.

“ow. what’s that for?”

He brings a hand up to clasp over the newly forming bruise on his pulse, eyes a little widened.

“A reminder to watch the door,” you say while you grind for the first time over his sweatpants, earning a sharp inhale. The real reason you sunk your teeth in is that Nagi’s annoying—about to get his dick ridden after throwing a tantrum over a phone battery. Classic Seishiro—everything comes too easy to him!

You wanna give him a harder time, you really wanna get bratty, but the feeling of Nagi’s hard dick against your panties has your brain short circuiting—especially when you notice his cute dilated pupils before he grinds up to meet your hips. Somehow those eyes have you programmed to do anything he asks—anything that’d please him would please you just as much.

So it’s after not long at all that your grinding turns rabid and you can’t wait any longer for him to be inside you. then you break away from his chest where you’d been clinging, hovering above him so you can take his cock out before spitting on it and giving a few impatient pumps.

Nagi’s a mess by this point, his bedhead even more disheveled than before and his cheeks rosy, his lips and neck looking red and abused. But your hand around his dick obliterates the last of his composure, now he’s squirming and whining and letting his eyes squeeze shut—forgetting to watch the door!!

You pause your stroking with a click of your tongue, pointing to the hallway when Nagi’s eyes open as a reminder. Then, in one practiced, fluid motion your panties are pulled to the side and Nagi’s stroked along your slit before sliding inside—stretching you open just right before you bottom out.

You have to still for a moment when you do, feeling Nagi’s fingers claw into your hips while his skull thuds against the wall behind him.

“Fuck.”

You adore Seishiro’s pussy drunk voice, how breathy and tired it sounds—how needy he turns. It has you gushing around him, wrapping your arms around his neck and squishing your bodies together till neither of you can move.

“Feel so good.” He whines, bucking into you on instinct, hitting your sweet spot with precision.

“Y-yeah?”

You love the eager way he nods in response—loving how Nagi seems to save whatever enthusiasm he has the energy to show for your pussy and your pussy only.

You roll your hips for him, starting a nice and gentle and merciful pace because you wanna give him a false sense of security before you start bouncing the way you like. Which is ruthlessly—Nagi’s sensitive and you enjoy nothing more than the process of absolutely ruining him.

The time you spend riding him slow and sweet ends sooner rather than later though; teasing Nagi is always a double-edged sword when you end up teasing yourself along with him. So it’s not long at all until the rock of your hips is interrupted and you’re letting your shoes slide to the ground, leaving just your socks while you shift your weight backwards onto your toes so you can use your feet to help you bounce hard the way you like. If Nagi was demanding train pussy, he’d have to take it how you want to give it.

Nagi realizes your intentions just a moment too late before you’re moving, squeezing him tight and fast and knocking the wind from his lungs.

He‘s never been great at censoring his moans—Seishiro can be dramatically vocal when he feels good, so you have to quickly silence him with your lips—swallowing every sound while he squirms like mad underneath you.

Every movement feels sweet—honestly, Nagi’s cock is maybe the most reliable thing about him—it never fails to hit exactly where it needs to. But if every movement is sweet for you, each slam of your hips is tooth rotting for seishiro—neither of you even notice the way his eyes are permanently closed in bliss—failing to watch your precious train door like he promised. He’s watching brain cells die behind his eyelids instead, his head turning fuzzy with each squeeze of your pussy—not even your lips can contain the volume of his whining.

He’s close, you can feel it in the way he’s twitching inside you, and you’re not far behind him. So you keep your hips bouncing in a nice rhythm—clinging onto him while he does the same to you, his fingers clawing your sides before breaking away from your kiss to throw his head back—it knocks against the wall again but he doesn’t complain, only squeezes his eyes shut while he cries out from borderline overstimulation—cumming what feels like endlessly inside you. It’s entirely too much when you clamp down on him, throwing your head back too while you cum with him—leaving him whimpering and teary-eyed.

“Fuuck s’too much, ba-wait I can’t—“

He’s cut off when you meet his lips again, riding out your high as gently as you can manage while Sei’s breaths slowly even out. Eventually his heavy eyelids peek open to find your head resting on his shoulder, looking up at his face.

Lovey little smiles are exchanged when your gazes meet—and you feel like your chest might explode from how heartfelt the moment suddenly feels as Nagi holds you close and you hold him closer, shoving unruly white hair from his eyes for him.

“Did you get good use out of your coupon, Sei?” You wonder with a teasing tone, tracing a finger along his shirt collar while he yawns, nodding. He looks like he’s about to say more, but it’s then that his eyes finally spare a glance for the aforementioned car door…

Where he finds Isagi, Chigiri and Bachira staring wide-eyed. Their expressions are varied from bachira’s amused little smile, playing with a red sucker between his lips, to Isagi’s tongue-in-cheek, brow-raised stare. Then there’s Chigiri—mouth slightly parted, eyes empty and his cheeks flushed. Nagi’s never seen that man blush before.

Nagi jumps the moment he notices them, before cursing under his breath, digging a knuckle into his eyes while he turns his head away.

You freeze at his actions—quick to gather that someone must have seen you but instantly too mortified to check the window and see who it was.

Japan’s team had rented out your section of the train for their next game so best case-scenario it was someone chill that you weren’t close with, maybe Hiori or Kurona, worst case-scenario it was Jinpachi Ego.

You don’t have the chance to speculate for long, because next thing you know, the door is sliding open and there’s more than one set of footsteps marching into your little train car. And you’re still stuffed full of Seishiro’s cock and you wanna cry.

You’re too frozen in embarrassment to move until you hear Nagi sigh, “This is so annoying—you guys are perverts, you know. Can’t you give a little privacy?”

He’s talking like it’s his friends standing behind you—the fact has you involuntarily clamping on him while you finally turn to check, clamping down again when Bachira waves at you and Isagi smiles all friendly. Seishiro squeezes your thigh when he feels you, groaning so quiet under his breath that you hope none of them can hear.

“We’re the perverts? You just got fucked in a public train with your teammates on the other side of the wall. It’s lucky it was us who heard you ‘n not our esteemed coach, don’t you think?”

It makes your head spin just hearing Isagi’s patronizing tone, but glancing at his expression makes you feel even stickier, his head tilted in faux concern and then his widened grin when you turn to meet his eyes.

You can’t help but find the look he gives you sort of… hot—you’d be lying if you said this whole situation wasn’t turning you on in some sick and twisted way. And Seishiro’s certainly handling it more calmly than you think most boyfriends would, letting the room fall quiet after Isagi speaks, his cheeks turning the faintest pink when he finally drops his eyes back down to you.

Another second of quiet and it would have been too uncomfortable to bear, but, unsurprisingly, Bachira breaks the silence.

He seems even less bothered by the car’s thick atmosphere than Isagi is, as he closes the gap to sit beside nagi, resting an elbow on his shoulder before pulling the sucker from his mouth with a pop. Where it felt like Isagi was only speaking to Nagi, Bachira seems to make you his sole focus when he asks, “think you can cum again, princess? Didn’t get a good view of your face the first time and I bet you’ll look soo pretty.”

You manage to grow even hotter at those words, you have to drop a cheek against Nagi to cool it, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from Bachira’s expression—it’s teasing and playful in a way that makes your insides fuzzy.

Before you can reply, you hear Isagi mumble from behind you, “bet you’ll feel so pretty too,” and with that you can’t hold back any longer from grinding down on sei’s quickly-hardened cock—trying to be as subtle as possible but unable to stop yourself—the lack of friction had been turning torturous.

And of course Nagi moans, all soft and sweet for you, gripping your hips before bucking upwards, his subtlety leaving much to be desired.

Something in the room shifts then, or maybe the tension breaks—at least for you. You’ve given up hiding how horny you still are.

Witnesses somehow only manage to turn you on more, the extra eyes make you feel desired, especially when you peek to see Bachira’s brows raised—he’s smiling, dimples out and everything, while his gaze falls to the edge of your skirt and your curled legs next to his. It takes minutes for you to be on the brink of cumming again, Isagi and Bachira only spurring you on with filthy words—

“Aww are you gonna get yourself off on Nagi again? Think I could make you feel even better.”

“Poor Sei’s gonna have an aneurysm, are you sure he can handle your little pussy for another round? Maybe you should give me a turn.”

Nagi can only pant and whine and take it beneath you—so drunk on your pussy he’s brain dead--the taunting from his teammates hardly even registers. Isagi’s quick to point out how gone he is from his seat across from you and when he does, Bachira’s giggling, brushing the sweaty hair from Nagi’s forehead and murmuring,

“If you don’t open your eyes, you’re gonna miss how cute your girlfriend looks while she fucks you.”

Isagi adds, “bet she can look even cuter. Megs you wanna take her shirt off? Looks like she isn't even wearing a bra.”

You’re so caught up in how it feels and how they sound that you don’t even notice till then that their cocks are out, stroked in their hands while you entertain them, leaving them panting softly between words. When you turn and look you notice that even Chigiri, who you’ve barely ever spoken with before, is groaning and palming himself through his shorts next to Isagi.

You’re on the brink of cumming and you sense Nagi is there with you—so preoccupied with how it feels that you barely notice Bachira tugging your shirt over your head, his sucker forgotten in its wrapper, till the cool air hits your nipples and you feel them hardening.You hear Isagi moan at the sight before you’re toppling over the edge again, spasming on Seishiro, feeling the burning gaze of the three around you while Bachira rubs your back. Nagi can’t help but cream inside you at the same time, twitching and whining—by the time he’s done you're exhausted.

The absurdity of the situation properly registers then, leaving you warm and embarrassed, but you aren’t done. Somehow you know you aren’t from the way Isagi’s eyes have been scorching your back. He doesn’t give you time to rest before he’s taking your hand in his, guiding you off of Nagi while you’re still pliant and stupid from cumming so hard.

All eyes are immediately fixed on how he spills out of you, white dripping down your thigh all the way to your knee when you stand.

“Sheesh Sei, look how messy you made her,” Bachira says, before he’s swiping cum off your leg and sucking it off his fingers. Your head spins. You feel like you must be dreaming.

“Sweet. You’re sweet, Sei, did y’know that?”

Seishiro’s brain’s still mush, his head resting lifelessly against the wall, but he manages to roll his face toward Bachira to glance at him, humming a no.

Bachira gets a glint in his eye when he turns to Chigiri, zoned out on Nagi’s face from the corner, and asks him “d’you wanna try, Chigiri? Ever tasted sweet cum before?”

Chigiri’s instantly pink, shaking his head almost shyly. You don’t expect it when you feel his long fingers glide up your inner thigh, dipping into your pussy before he takes them away to lick clean.

He speaks for the first time,

“You are sweet, Nagi.”

You think you see Nagi make a lazy little smile at that before you’re being molded by Isagi, onto your hands and knees across the leather seats that Chigiri’s sitting on. Your face is met with Chigiri’s massive bulge while Isagi gets positioned behind you, rubbing warm hands under your skirt to push it all the way up to your abdomen, leaving only your little lace panties that are stretched in the crotch and soaked.

“Gonna take her face, Hyoma?” Isagi asks while his fingers trace the frilly straps, sliding his way under them to rub your bare hips.

You take the time he spends inching the fabric lower to try and wrap your brain around Yoichi Isagi—the man who’s likely your closest friend on the team aside from Nagi. He’s always kept the atmosphere light and friendly when you’re involved—cracking jokes and relishing in your giggles, he’s always very kind and welcoming. It’s true you’ve always thought he was kinda cute—and it was clear those feelings were returned from the way he flirted with you, but you always assumed he was just laying your special treatment on a extra thick to fuck with Nagi. You didn’t expect he’d ever really be in your panties, that's for sure. But now he’s crossing the point of no return, helping slide them off completely and likely altering your dynamic permanently. Ah well… you don’t feel the motivation to stop him.

Chigiri breaks you out of your thoughts when he finally answers,

“Bachira can go first, he’s staring like a hungry animal right now.”

Bachira doesn’t need any further permission than that before he’s swapped spots with Chigiri, kneeling sideways on the seat so his cock is in your face—red and thick and leaking. You almost put him in your mouth immediately on instinct but then you’re glancing at Nagi on the bench across from you, gauging how he feels about this whole thing. He’s never been the jealous type, but talking to other men and sucking their dicks usually warrants different reactions.

He’s still looking exhausted but you notice right away his dick is somehow still hard- or maybe hard again. The corner of his mouth lifts a little when you meet his eyes, then lifts even more when he glances a few times between your face and Bachira’s cock.

His expression is confirmation enough, and next thing you know you’re licking up the pre that’s dripping down Bachira’s tip, squealing a bit when you feel Isagi run his fingers through your sensitive pussy at the same time, fingering you with his middle and ring finger till he has enough cum on his hand to rub his cock with, getting himself ready for you. The anticipation has you quickly struggling to focus on Bachira, licking him sloppily from base to tip a few times till he’s impatient.

“No, princess, it goes in your mouth.”

Bachira puts a thumb between your lips and gently pulls them open, guiding himself inside while you look up into his eyes. He looks… mischievous—his expression has your heart thumping unevenly, reminding you of how he looks when he plays soccer. And once his tip’s at the back of your mouth, his condescending smile gets even wider while he lets out a breathy groan, holding your eyes shamelessly while your tongue swirls around him, eventually glancing behind you at Isagi, who’s positioned his tip at your entrance.

You whine on Bachira’s dick when Isagi starts easing his way in, the new angle dragging against new places inside you, and Bachira furrows his brows at the feeling, twitching forward before holding himself back.

“Mmm I think ‘m gonna have to fuck your face.”

Nagi’s never done that before.

Your expression must show your hesitance because Bachira’s quickly stroking your head, trying but not quite succeeding in reassuring you all will be well while he looks behind you some more—eyeing Isagi who’s bottomed out inside you.

“It’ll be okay. Isagi and I’d only take the best care of Nagi’s sweet little girlfriend.” He says in a singsong voice, slowly easing his way deeper in your mouth.

“Wouldn’t give you anything you couldn’t take. I know you can handle us both, princess,” you hear Isagi add from behind while he rubs your lower back and sides.

You’re just thinking whatever they’re gonna do to you, they better do it fast because you can’t stand another moment without movement. So you answer them with a whine that’s meant to be encouraging.

From the sidelines of every game—especially as a non-soccer player, Isagi and Bachira’s relationship always appears… complicated. The way Nagi tells it, they used to often work as a unit, as a team even in blue lock, kinda like Nagi used to be with Reo. But… things got competitive. They’re friends, Nagi always says they're friends and they act like it off the field, but their dynamic always feels to you like it has a hidden layer most people are missing—whether it be rivalry or jealousy or maybe even some form of… infatuation.

And maybe it’s that hidden connection they hold that has them so in sync when suddenly, with no word or trigger you can perceive, Bachira and Isagi thrust out and in, beginning a steady matching pace while they fuck your pussy and throat. You’re left gagging and drooling from the sensation—it’s overwhelming to be so completely full, but somehow you more than bear it—after a few thrusts it’s even satisfying and you’re moaning and taking it and fast approaching another orgasm. If your mind was already hazy from Seishiro, your thoughts are a thick fog by this point, cleared of anything but physical touch—your boyfriend watching you from a foot away getting his cock stroked by Hyoma goes completely unnoticed.

Something you do come around for, though, is Bachira’s downright erotic panting growing louder by the second, paired with the bruising grip Isagi’s got latched around your waist that tightens with every stroke, eventually one of his hands lifting to link fingers with Megs. Their growing enthusiasm while they fuck you can only be perceived for a moment before you’re coming undone again, wave after wave of intense and all-consuming pleasure washing over you till you can’t keep your eyes open. You can’t hear or see by the peak of it, only feeling as two cocks drill and pound you harder than you’ve possibly ever experienced. You almost choke when suddenly Bachira’s creaming in your mouth towards the end, shooting ropes of hot cum down your throat but refusing to pull out so you have no choice but to swallow. It’s not long after that you feel heat flood your pussy too, filling you like a donut for the third time in the past hour.

You almost collapse on the seat then, but luckily you’re caught around the middle by Isagi, who lays you down gently while he uses some mysterious cloth to mop up the mess between your legs—likely a shirt from Nagi’s backpack.

You’re a wreck by this point, but feeling thoroughly satisfied as you lay and let your eyes adjust to the scene around you, one that involves Chigiri kneeling in front of your boyfriend and sucking him completely dry while Seishiro buries his face in the crook of his arms, squirming the way you know he does when he’s about to cum. He moves his arms towards the end to glance at Chigiri, then he’s meeting eyes with you, and his expression morphs into one of his rare, adoring faces.

He moves his mouth like he’s about to say your name but then he’s cumming again, his nose wrinkling all cute while his hands go to Chigiri’s hair, holding it from his face while Chigiri’s head bobs at a steady rhythm. Eventually Nagi’s pulling Chigiri off, using his hair like a handlebar and whining “s’too much Hyoma, s’enough...”

…

Seishiro… your boyfriend… you just watched him get his dick sucked by his teammate. The scene of it all has you reeling because- how should you feel about that? Not mad—certainly not when you just got fucked by two cocks at once before his eyes and liked it. But is it okay that the image had you feeling… good? That you’re turned on by the thought of Nagi’s teammates taking good care of him—especially the idea that they might when you’re not even there. As a matter of fact you hope Nagi’s friends suck his dick for him when you can’t make it to a faraway game, you’d be more worried if he wasn’t being doted on by someone in your place—that realization has you surprised with yourself.

When he finally opens his eyes after coming down from his high, you’ve scooted back to his bench next to him, hugging yourself to his side and smoothing the bangs from his forehead before dotting his face in light kisses.

“Did that feel good?” Your voice sounds like an angel.

He nods, his eyelids even heavier than before, wrapping an arm around your back and pulling you against his chest, cheek falling against your head.

Hyoma, who’d sunk against Nagi’s other side chuckles lightly, mumbling a soft “I’m glad,” while adjusting the front of his shorts.

Seishiro’s sitting like his body is heavy, his boxers lazily tucked over his dick so even his clothes make him look thoroughly ran through. Still, he finds the energy to lift his head and look pointedly at Chigiri and his apparent boner, pursing his lips like he’s debating something.

Chigiri’s voice is breathy and seductive when he asks “Wanna help me out, Sei?”

The nickname sounds almost out of place spoken from Hyoma’s lips, you get the feeling he’s only ever referred to Nagi by his surname up until now. It honestly makes your thighs rub together thinking about their newfound closeness.

You watch as Seishiro nods for him, spitting in his hand once Chigiri finally takes his cock out.

You have to work to pick your jaw up off the floor when he does—who would have expected that Hyoma Chigiri’s absolutely hung. His cock is blushing and pretty and huge—precum spilling from its tip once Nagi carefully wraps a hand around its base, stroking testingly.

Chigiri moans the kind of moan you knew he’d make—one that’s pretty like the rest of him, wrapping a hand around Nagi’s to squeeze himself tighter.

“‘Sagi, you should do that to me,” your eyes follow Bachira’s voice across from you, him and Isagi seem to be fighting over who can manspread the most on the bench space. You notice Isagi’s eyes lingering on you, curled against Nagi with just your sorry excuse for a skirt still on—it’s riding up so high he’d see everything if you just opened your legs.

“No fucking chance, Megs.”

“Maybe if I beat you next one on one?” Bachira murmurs, a teasing tone to his words.

Isagi ignores him, staring you down while he wets his lips, eventually meeting your gaze while a warm smile takes over his face. You notice then that he has another hard-on in his basketball shorts.

“Hey princess, think you could give me head? We could give Hyoma somethin’ to watch? And I bet Bachira’d eat you out—he loves eating other guys’ cum.”

Bachira throws a hard shove at Isagi’s shoulder that leaves Isagi wincing, but then he smiles at you all big and feral.

“I am dying to taste that magic pussy of yours. Seems like it puts everybody in a trance.”

You know the logical answer would be to decline, you know your body is on the brink of collapse, but then Nagi’s looking down on you with his blank eyed stare, and his pupils are huge again. He pecks your forehead before whispering,

“C’mon baby, give us somethin’ to watch.”

Due to your Sei-pleasing programming, and the wetness between your legs Isagi’s eyes bring, you can’t say no.

So you end up back on the Eiffel Tower bench, back on your hands and knees, but this time your skirt’s finally been removed and Isagi’s cock is by your face while Bachira kneels behind you, inspecting your swollen pussy.

You shiver when you feel his warm fingers spread you apart, tracing your folds while his mouth waters, the atmosphere accentuated by Chigiri’s moans and sighs along with the gentle slaps from Nagi’s hand.

You’re just placing the first kitten lick on Isagi’s tip when Bachira places both hands on your ass, spreading you open with his thumbs this time before finally licking a long stripe through your center.

The feeling has your back arching, whining before you take Isagi fully in your mouth, letting him gag you while Bachira flattens his tongue against your clit. The room’s quickly filled with whining and moaning and heavy breathing—thankfully nobody seems to be in the car next door anymore because you’d be heard immediately.

You should have known from the eccentric way Bachira acts to the fact his tongue’s lolling out of his mouth half that time that he’d be good at giving head—but somehow you didn’t anticipate how electric he’s making you feel, alternating fucking you with his tongue and suctioning under the hood of your clit—his every action feels intense. And he’s vocal too—slurping and groaning on you, his fingers almost certainly leaving bruises on the skin of your ass and upper thighs where he holds you open with an unyielding grip.

The feeling Bachira’s tongue is giving you only transfers to Isagi’s dick, because you’re moaning on it—frantically taking him as deep as your throat can go as some kind of outlet for the hot pleasure you’re experiencing in your core.

You’re not sure if somehow all of this fell under Isagi’s master plan, because he is fucking estatic—gripping the wall and your hair, perfectly dominating in his tone while he talks you through the whole thing. Using words like, “there you go, princess,” and “mmh think your mouth was made for my cock,” while moaning all deep and pretty in a way you didn’t expect.

Every sense you have is sexually charged, and it takes almost no time for you to be coming undone again almost painfully this time. By now you’ve lost count how many orgasms you’ve been given, but this one stands out as the harshest—leaving you choking on Isagi while fat tears stream down your cheeks, your body twitching on Bachira’s unrelenting mouth. He licks up your release like a man starving—lapping deep inside you till your vision is spotty and you worry you’ll never be able to think straight again.

You can hardly register the feeling of Isagi cumming in your mouth, swallowing everything he gives with empty-headed obedience. Isagi and Bachira catch you when you collapse this time, laying you gently on the bench so your head’s on Isagi’s lap, mumbling how they’re scared they might have put you in a coma when you don’t respond to their comments throughout the process. Your heartbeat’s too loud in your ears at first to register the sound that’s left is Chigiri, his panting and whining growing quick while Nagi jerks him off across from you.

Your hearing is finally clear again when he mumbles a broken, “gonna cum, Sei- fuck- where?”

You watch Nagi glance around for a second at his backpack and your discarded clothes littering the floor before his stare lands on you, and his eyes soften a bit.

“My girlfriend.”

“Sei-?”

“Inside her like everyone else.” Nagi’s tone is humorless—maybe a teense fond.

At this point no action anyone around you takes could surprise you, so you spread your legs a little in your seat, flicking your gaze up at Hyoma’s furrowed expression.

He hesitates much less than you would have expected, taking over for Nagi with a breathy sigh, his hand gliding up and down his own cock with loud wet slaps.

Before you know it he’s standing and twisting your body diagonal so you’re leaning against Isagi’s chest, spreading your legs with one hand before kneeling to slide himself inside. You both wince when he enters, you from raw overstimulation and him from the squeeze—it only takes one pump before he’s cumming inside you—painting your insides with what feels like buckets of cum while his breaths come out in shaky moans, leaving you so full you’re leaking before he even pulls out.

Everything’s sticky and exhausting after that, you feel like you need to sleep for days, but the train just announced it would be pulling into the station in 5 minutes. So, with the help of four sets of hands besides your own, and one of Nagi’s tee shirts that Isagi elected as a temporary cum rag, you redress yourself and are left sitting beside Nagi again, him leaning his head against the wall with frequent yawns and you sending an apologetic text to your friend for your lack of response. Nagi already had practice today but he has a dinner to attend before his big game tomorrow, one you were planning to accompany him to but you’re currently planning to forgo, hoping none of his teammates or coaches miss your absence.

The early check-in to your hotel goes smoothly. You’re happy to get the chance to break in a fresh bed with a late nap, but once you arrive and go to shower, you finally notice something missing. You didn’t even realize with how sensitive and raw you were feeling between your legs, along with how used to nudity you’d grown accustomed in the past hour and half, but ever since your train ride soirée, it seems your panties have mysteriously vanished…

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #isagi x you #isagi x reader #nagi x reader #bachira x reader #nagiri x reader #chigiri x you #chigiri x reader #bllk fic #blue lock fic #tw dubcon #bllk smut #tw dacryphilia #tw public sex

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yunhohours · 1 year

Text

My Uber’s Here

✗ Pairing: stranger!yechan x fem!afab!reader

✗ Word count: 3.5k

✗ Warnings: reader is hot and she knows it, yechan is fuckingjskkdks hot too, party atmosphere, mentions of but no use of drugs/alcohol, fingering (f. receiving), a pinch of dirty talk for flavor, a dash of exhibitionism, cum eating, this one doesn’t exactly have a romantic ending besties

✗ A/N: i don’t normally include this, but i added the outfit inspos in the “header.” please keep in mind that reader does not have any particular body type or skin color. outfit inspo is hot girl attire for any reader with any body type or complexion <3

Parties are so not your scene. You don’t like drinking, you don’t like drugs, and you definitely don’t like inebriated people stumbling into you every few minutes when you’re just trying to be a piece of eye candy for all the lucky onlookers. That’s all parties are for you–an excuse to look hot. The power you feel when people can’t peel their eyes off of you even as another person is desperately trying to hold their attention is intoxicating. It’s the only drug you need.

Tonight, you’ve outdone yourself. Everything is black–something you’ve noticed is a guaranteed head-turner. Men especially can’t keep their jaws off the floor when you go this route. Your skirt is short, flaring out just enough at your hips and stopping just below your ass. It barely covers all the important bits, but it does. You’ve got a lace bralette adorning your chest, covered only by an off the shoulder fishnet “top,” if you can call it that. A sizable corset belt connects your top and bottom halves, hiding the skin that would otherwise be on display without it. To finish things off in the most heartless way possible, you’ve opted for thigh highs and chunky ankle boots. You look like the femme fatale of everyone’s dreams and you know it.

You’re watching as a tall, caramel-skinned, muscular man eye fucks you while simultaneously kissing the neck of a perfectly pretty girl that has glued herself to his front. He’s not subtle. You’re holding eye contact while the poor girl thinks she has his full attention. It’s fucked up but this is fun for you. You let your fingers skate across your scantily clad chest for his view, drinking it up when his eyes follow every movement automatically. It’s as if he has no choice but to let you lure him in further.

It’s only when he looks back up to you and then flicks his gaze towards the bathroom that it stops being fun. You roll your eyes and look away from him, giving him back to the girl eagerly pulling his leg between hers. You never wanted him. You just wanted his desire. You wanted to see if you could have it and how much of it he would give you. Now you know. Now it’s boring again.

As you’re scanning the room for a new distraction–a new plaything, perhaps–you notice that there is already someone looking at you. Not just looking generally like most of the men in the room, but looking up at your face with a knowing smirk on his. Okay, you’ll bite. You’re curious. You look back at him without hesitation, expecting him to pretend he wasn’t staring at you, but he doesn’t. He stares back and the smirk on his lips grows just enough for you to notice. You raise a brow at him. Why are you looking at me like that? Understanding your silent question, he tosses his gaze in the direction of your last victim and you have to chew on your lip to keep from laughing.

Oh. So he knows what you’ve been up to.

You shrug your shoulders with faux innocence, eyes turning doll-like to sell your character. His head sways on his shoulders as he “considers” whether or not to believe you, and then he just nods, winking at you before dropping his eyes from yours, his attention now elsewhere. That’s all she wrote, it seems.

Except now you’re the one that’s intrigued. Now you’re the one that can’t take your eyes off of him.

Refusing to let that be it, you decide to take a seat on the couch across from him. There are three: the one he’s sitting on, another placed at a right angle to his, and yours. You have to squish your body into the space at the end, the smell of too much cologne and alcohol flooding your senses as bodies are pressed on your free side and surrounding you behind the back of the couch. Normally, you would never do this. Being one with all the sloppy, foul-smelling randoms is not an option. But he is worth the sacrifice.

He. Who is he? You don’t know his name. You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen him before. You’d remember, wouldn’t you?

You realize that his precious attention is on his phone. His thumb is scrolling steadily, undoubtedly browsing his social media app of choice. Instagram? Twitter? He’s wearing headphones. What is he listening to? You chew on the inside of your cheek as you ponder his headphones for a second longer. He also doesn’t care about being here. There’s music playing in this house, but he’d rather listen to his own. You like that.

He doesn’t seem to notice you’re watching him–something you try not to be offended by–so you take the time to take in his appearance. You got a peek before, but you were more curious about the situation then, so now’s your chance to see what he really looks like.

He’s wearing a grey hoodie–oversized. The hood is up and one of his hands is in the pouch. His jeans are relaxed-fit and black and his sneakers match the color palette of the hoodie-jean combo. You can’t help but think you two would’ve looked great showing up together tonight. Maybe, if things go your way, you can leave together instead. You can’t see much of his face with it turned downward, but you notice the way his dark hair covers his eyebrows and an unexpected button nose.

As if he could sense you, his gaze drifts upwards until you’re once again making eye contact. You fight the urge to look away and make a mental note of how much you hate being on this side of the game you play. The little smirk is back on his face and he sits back into the couch, dropping his phone in his lap. His much too inviting lap. He has been manspreading since you started looking at him, but it’s harder to ignore that when he’s leaning back like he is now.

What? He mouths from his side of the room, a playful glint in his eye.

You find yourself shrugging at him for the second time tonight and it makes you feel off your game. You search for something to say that might turn the tables back in your favor. It has to be simple enough to read on your lips. You’re sure he can’t actually hear you with his headphones still in.

You don’t really get the chance to think about it too much. The sweaty bodies that had been pressing into you now and again are suddenly moving a lot more than before. You reluctantly look away from him to see what’s going on, but all you know is that everyone seems to be getting up and stumbling towards the back door. Good. You don’t care why. You just want them all gone.

You allow yourself to settle into the couch more comfortably and look back at what’s-his-name. He seems to be able to read some confusion on your face. Pool, he explains. Ah, so that’s where everyone is going. You can’t help but think that drunk people shouldn’t be anywhere near a pool, but the selfish part of you determines that it’s not your problem and you’d much rather stay where you are.

There are a few stragglers left in the room now, but you feel strangely alone with this man. It’s the tunnel vision, you figure.

“What’s your name?” You have to know.

He doesn’t seem to be adept at lip-reading, because he pulls out one of his headphones and asks you to repeat yourself.

“What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?”

Okay, he’s good. If he wants to play, you’ll play. You consider what you know about him, but it’s almost nothing. You know that he’s observant. You know that he’s not necessarily interested in what everyone else is doing. You assume, based on his knowledge that everyone was going to the pool, that he probably knows someone here quite well. You don’t have much else to work with and, for some reason, that’s thrilling.

You hum to yourself, crossing one leg over the other so that your skirt rides up just enough to be noticeable–a test. Will he fall into your trap, staring like all the others? Unable to proceed because he’s too busy drooling? Yes–no. His eyes briefly follow your movement, but they come back to yours before you can tempt him further. Okay, so he’s interested, but he’s not a mindless, horny dog. Good.

“You’re not going to the pool?”

“Are you?”

You roll your eyes but you’re wearing a stupid grin on your face. He’s being annoying but it’s working. “When are you going to start giving me real answers?”

“When are you going to come sit in my lap?”

You hesitate. You never hesitate. “What?”

“Easier to talk to you if you’re not all the way over there.”

You cock your head, many questions floating around in your mind. He’s not wrong, but sitting beside him would work just as well.

He picks up his phone, previously resting in his lap, and places it on the arm of the couch instead. He knows you’re going to come to him. You wish he was wrong.

You take inventory of the room before standing, but you’re not sure why. You don’t normally mind who sees you doing what with who. The room is empty aside from two people passed out on the couches, but neither of them are close enough to be a problem. Lacking any reason to prolong the inevitable, you stand, smoothing your skirt down your thighs before walking over to your mystery man.

His head falls back against the cushion behind him as he gazes up at you. He’s patient. He doesn’t rush you even as you just stand there looking at him. He’s even more gorgeous up close. You’re sure his eyes were round and adorable earlier, but right now they’re heavily lidded. You don’t know if substance or lust is to blame.

“Do you need me to help you?”

You internally curse yourself for the response your body has to that question, the warmth between your legs too evident for you to ignore at this point. He’s so sure of himself. He’s not intimidated by you. God, that’s fucking hot.

“What if I do?”

You don’t. You both know you don’t. Still, he reaches his long arms behind you, hands carefully gripping the backs of your thighs, expertly pulling you forward and dropping you into his lap. As if to say I got you, he winks.

You need to stop yourself from obsessing over the feel of his grip on your plush thighs, so you quickly try to redirect: “What are you listening to?”

Without answering, he offers you one of his headphones. You take it, somehow surprised by how much he can make you feel while saying so little. You place the headphone in your ear and nod when you hear the r&b song invading your inner world. You’re not sure what song it is, but you had him pegged for an r&b guy.

The music is much better than anything that’s been playing since you’ve been here. You guess he probably listens to a lot of artists that aren’t mainstream. The music is almost too good, actually. It’s making everything feel really intimate right now. But then again… you are sitting in his lap and gazing at each other while sharing his headphones. Maybe it just is intimate.

Minutes of silence and tension pass. Well, not literal silence. There’s the music, obviously. But you barely register it. You’re lost, staring into his eyes because he doesn’t shy away from looking right back into yours. This is the drunkest you’ve ever felt at a party.

“You’re…” You can tell by how long his mouth is moving that he said more, but you could only hear the ‘you’re’ at the beginning of his sentence.

“What?” You mouth back.

His hands, well-behaved at his sides until now, move. One of them beckons you closer to him at your lower back and the other plucks the headphone from your ear momentarily. “You’re too pretty to be here,” he mumbles against your ear, every hair on your body standing up. He replaces the headphone and sits back again, letting his hands rest on your outer thighs. It’s like he doesn’t even know that he’s driving you fucking crazy. Except he does. That’s his modus operandi.

You’re quickly losing any shred of composure you had. You want to be frustrated that he’s able to put you under his spell like this, but you’re too busy wanting him with every fiber of your being. Fuck, you hiss under your breath, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the ceiling. Maybe if you stop looking at him. Maybe if you turn your head to the heavens…

You almost jump when your moment of self-collection is interrupted, your fingernails leaving crescent moons on the insides of your palms.

“You should let me fuck you with my fingers.”

His voice is too close again. You turn your head back and find that his is right there, eyes showing no signs of the nervousness you feel. God, his lips are right there too. You hadn’t realized when he did it, but the music is quieter now. He wanted to make sure you heard him.

“That’s… bold. Isn’t it?”

His face twists into that of a scoff, but he doesn’t audibly scoff at you. He waits to make sure your eyes stay locked on his before he speaks.

“Is it? You don’t know me. You don’t know my name. You know absolutely nothing about me but you came right to my lap when I asked and now you’re practically drooling all over my clothes and your eyes are begging for me. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Well… when he puts it like that. But you don’t want it to be so easy. You hate being the easy one. You scoff, for real this time. You look away from him, but you know it’s in vain because you make no effort to get off his lap or refute him.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he repeats. You’re not sure when his hand snuck its way between your thighs, but you can feel his fingers permitting themselves up your skirt, only stopping when his middle one is pressed against the crotch of your panties. You curse under your breath again. Now he knows how badly you want him. Surely he can feel it in the warm wetness there.

You turn your head back to him just in time to see him smirk.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll fuck you nice and good so you don’t have to keep making a mess of yourself, yeah?”

You feel yourself clench around nothing at his vulgar language. You need him to keep that promise.

Your lids already feel heavy as he pushes his way inside your panties, fingers collecting some of your slick before gliding up to your aching nub. Your eyes look around the room again and you hear the music’s volume go back up. Everyone is still outside, but you can see more people on the other side of the windows, and it makes you think that it might not be long before some of them start coming back in. It’s a good thing he’s just using his fingers and that you won’t last long anyway.

Your eyes squeeze shut for a moment when you realize how overwhelmed you are already–this gorgeous man under you, his fingers sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body, the music just loud enough that you can’t hear anything else. You gasp when your head is being turned against your will. Look at me, he mouths, knowing you won’t be able to hear him. He doesn’t let go of your jaw until he feels sure that you won’t look away again.

When he does let go, it’s at the same time as his middle finger pushes itself inside of you, making your jaw fall slack and your eyes grow wide. You didn’t know he was wearing rings until you could feel the bulky, cold metal stretching you out. You can’t hear yourself well, but you know you moaned and you know it wasn’t quiet. You can feel it in your throat. His tongue skates over his bottom lip, clearly enjoying the way you melt into his hands.

Your hands reach down, clutching his legs under you for support. His finger fucks into you not quite fast, not quite slow, his thumb making sure to give attention to your clit as well. You can’t peel your eyes away from his face. You want to kiss him, but you’re not sure if that’s “allowed” and you don’t want the sting of rejection when you’re feeling this good.

While you’re burning his face into your memory, you notice that his headphone is laying on his shoulder. Did it fall out or did he take it out? You reach with a shaky hand to put it back in for him, but he shakes his head. Want to hear you. To punctuate himself, he pushes a second finger inside you, relishing in the choked out sob it pulls out of you. God, when did you get this needy? You barely recognize yourself.

His fingers speed up now, thrusting in and out of you with ease, and you’re grateful you can’t hear the squelching sounds you’re undoubtedly making. You’re moaning nonstop at this point, wishing you knew his name so you could latch onto it, cry for him while he takes you for himself. His thumb is harsh on your clit, your thighs shaking, tears pricking your eyes. You see him faux pout at you through your blurry vision.

He leans forward again, holding your upper body against him with his hand on your lower back–the same as before. The music gets quiet and his voice is low in your ear. “What if I make you cum right here? In my lap when everyone’s just outside? Would you like that?”

Neither of you miss the way you clench around his fingers. “Mm?” He asks, lips ghosting over your ear, but never fully giving you anything. You shiver from head to toe.

Unexpectedly, his fingers slow. You whine, having expected him to do the opposite. “Guess you don’t want it after all.”

“N-no! Please,” you beg. Your hand grasps for his, wrapping around his wrist in the hopes of keeping his fingers inside of you. “God, fuck, please make me cum.”

“Hmm.” The vibration of his consideration so close to your ear makes you feel like you are vibrating. Fuck, maybe you are. He pulls back just enough to look at your face, his fingernail lightly scratching at your clit to keep you twitching. He lets his gaze drop to your lips and his own lips part. He leans in—even closer, if that’s possible—and you’re so sure he’s going to kiss you.

“Then cum for me.”

He speaks the words against your lips and before you have time to process them, his fingers are fucking into you mercilessly, his eyes boring into yours. The music gets louder—louder than it ever was before. His free hand is wrapped firmly around your waist, trying to keep you from falling off his lap from his rough handling of you.

You’re so overstimulated by this situation that you can’t think or hear or even see. You can only feel. You feel so full.

He never does kiss you. He just wants the up close and personal view of your face when you cum on his fingers, tears wetting your cheeks as you moan louder than you should given your setting. “Fuck,” he groans, more to himself than to you.

He carefully removes his fingers from your cunt as you try to refocus yourself, blinking away the tears in your eyes and gripping his shirt for some source of steadiness. He’s smirking at you and you want to be annoyed, but how can you be when he inserts his fingers into his mouth, cleaning you off him? You whine like someone that didn’t just orgasm moments ago. How can you still possibly want him this bad?

His eyes glance in the direction of a sound and you realize it’s the back door. Oh. Right. You glance too and your stomach tenses when you realize that only a few people are walking in, but there are already more people in the house than there were when you last checked. How long have they been there? How much did they see?

You’re deciding whether you want to know when, like a few times already tonight, the man’s voice is interrupting you. “Sorry, pretty. My uber’s here.”

You have to stop your jaw from dropping as you turn to look at him. When did he even call one? Just now? You didn’t expect him to literally just make you cum and dip.

He carefully pulls your panties back into place and gives your cheek a chaste kiss, tapping your thighs to signal that he needs you to get up. You do stand, albeit on wobbly legs, and watch as he makes his way to the front door, giving you one last wink before he disappears.

#th: omega x #th: ox #th: yechan #omega x smut #ox smut #yechan smut

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