cw: idk fucking everything. nsfw mdni, female reader, exhibitionism, group sex (sort of), mild sadism, cockwarming, humiliation, slapping (face & pussy), subspace. i don't know canon don't talk to me
team bonding with the team is the worst. oliver always feels pressure to host, so you just have to end up sitting on his lap, shorts tangled around your ankles, keeping his cock warm.
the team doesn't really mind, sometimes making lewd comments and laughing at you when you get really needy, but you don't mind. sometimes they prod at a sore spot—verbally—making you wetter, your boyfriend groaning as you drip down his cock.
sometimes oliver lets them get a little more hands-on, indulging their hungry eyes when they've won a game or gotten points for good behavior. he never lets them take their dicks out, though sendo's happy to jerk himself off with his hand down his pants, watching you with a heavy-lidded gaze. oliver says it's because they don't deserve to defile your perfect body. you, getting defiled by him on the regular, are pretty sure he gets a power trip out of edging them.
you feel excessively horny today, a function of watching your boyfriend and his team obliterate their opponent. watching oliver execute a defensive play perfectly always hits you like a shot of aphrodisiacs straight to the jugular.
what can you say? it takes someone who's a little bit of a soccer freak to get fucked by these soccer freaks.
you think about it, the shot oliver had managed to spin just past the outstretched hand of the goalie, the stretch of his shorts over his thighs as he fell to the field, a victorious shout reaching your ears in the stands. you don't even realize that you're grinding on him, trying to lift yourself up and down his cock, until he slaps you.
it's barely a slap, just a light tap to your jaw, but it startles you. he hisses when you twist back to look at him, eyes teary and blinking rapidly in confusion.
"baby, you gotta be quieter," he tells you, "sit still for me? you're gonna disrupt the movie."
nobody ever watches the fucking movies at these things, not when you're slutting yourself out because you can't go twenty seconds without oliver's dick. you could point this out, but then who knows what punishment he'd give you?
with oliver, you always want to be good.
"sorry," you say, kissing his cheek, and he grins a little even as he's grabbing your jaw and forcing your head back so he can kiss you longer, messier, even as you're bending unnaturally and whimpering, ah, ah, it hurts. you slump back into him when he lets you go, all of your muscles gone liquid under his touch.
sometimes he drifts his hands under your shirt, pushing up the fabric to knead at your tits, sometimes hooking one under one of your thighs to lift it up and hold you open so he has better access to your clit. this is embarrassing, unbearably so; if he rubs over you just right while you're trapped with all of you on display, you'll squirt, all over his lap and shoes and loveseat.
you're so far gone you don't realize your mistake until shidou is uncoiling himself from where he was hunched on the floor (he lost couch privileges the first time you'd invited him over), making his way over to the two of you. silly girl, you should know by now that saying that something hurts around shidou is like putting a bowl of raw meat in front of a hungry dog.
he doesn't ask for permission, but oliver gives it anyway.
"you listened well today," his tone is magnanimous. he's so generous. "isn't she pretty?"
shidou squats in front of you, examining where you’re spread open around oliver’s dick. you squirm a little, shy. you can hear the soft sound of it, your wetness making the movement loud. he laughs a little, petting over your clit, watching you as you bite your lip and try not to moan.
that won’t do.
he slaps your clit once, a sharp smack sounding through the room, and you jerk and squeal and squeeze, fire spreading over your face and down your chest.
“hey,” snaps the man underneath you, his voice aggravated. “you don’t get to touch her like that.” but shidou is already dancing away, laughing as you fail to steady your breath, clenching desperately around oliver for everyone to see.
"not fair," you say, mostly for oliver's ears, but knowing they can all hear you.
"see, look what you did," oliver grumbles, settling his hands on your hips. "she liked that. now i have to make her come about it."