Chapter Text
Spain became two-time World Cup champions in 2026, securing the title with a squad featuring exceptional center-backs and defensive midfielders, alongside the world's best midfielders. It was a unique style of football, played by athletes forged through grit, rigorous training, and innate talent. The team was composed of young players who had been honing their skills in football academies since early childhood—a factor that set Spain apart. During the match, they didn't succumb to nerves or fatigue; they stuck to their game plan: defending solidly, creating clear-cut scoring opportunities, and marking Messi to perfection. With humility and immense determination, they finally lifted the coveted World Cup trophy.
MetLife Stadium in New Jersey was filled with the spirited chants of Spanish fans. Yellow and red banners were on full display as captain Rodri hoisted the trophy and the players celebrated, momentarily putting aside the heated battle against the Argentines—who were poor losers, committing aggressive and outrageous fouls throughout the match. Argentina played a man down after Enzo was sent off for a rough tackle that clearly warranted a red card. Yet, what truly impressed viewers was the Spanish team's resolve to keep playing and their refusal to be rattled by the cowardly tactics of the Argentines.
One player—a young man who had dreamed of playing in the World Cup since childhood and fought hard to play for his beloved Barcelona—was shouting at the top of his lungs, celebrating alongside Pedri and Yamal. Although he had lost his starting spot in the opening matches of the tournament, he was there because he deserved to be; he had been the best midfielder of the 2022/2023 season and remained elite alongside his partner Pedri, even after recovering from an injury that required surgery. But there he was, singing and embracing his teammates, momentarily putting aside the scuffle he’d had with Paredes. Everyone knew his temper was volatile; he was used to facing taller, stronger men in the Spanish leagues, and he couldn't contain his rage when he saw Paredes grabbing his teammate by the throat. He acted on impulse, lunging at the player and throwing punches at his back and chest. It all happened so fast—he felt himself being thrown to the ground, Paredes grabbing his bib and choking him, a slap across the face—but just as he got up to retaliate, they were pulled apart.
If only they knew the anger he felt, the urge to punch the guy... but his teammates calmed him down, telling him it wasn't worth it and that the moment was for celebrating. In his post-match interview, Gavi was direct in his comments about the post-whistle scuffle:
"Losing hurts, I get that. But being a sore loser is different. From that moment on, Paredes lost my respect forever. Champions celebrate with dignity, and defeated players should leave the pitch with dignity."
But he was trying to put that behind him as his family and girlfriend stepped onto the pitch. Everyone hugged and congratulated him; his friends—especially Pedri, his rock—were overjoyed. At one point during the celebration, drinks were brought out and champagne was sprayed everywhere. Gavi was the happiest kid alive in that moment—happy for the amazing squad, happy and grateful to be part of the national team. Even though he’d been a substitute, that didn't stop him from celebrating: his country had won the World Cup!
...
Pablo was slightly tipsy, wearing a white Nike shirt with a slogan on it that his family had given him. Everyone was heading to the locker room to shower before going out to celebrate at a famous club in New Jersey. The boy was singing the Spanish national anthem, swaying slightly; he didn't realize when he’d become separated from his friends, but the corridor was dark and the stadium was massive. Suddenly, he felt his whole body pressed against the cold wall; strong, iron-like hands gripped his forearm and shoved him hard. The Spaniard went on alert and lifted his chin, unable to make out who it was in the darkness—until a sliver of light revealed those light-colored eyes. He recognized that stern, aggressive look and the beard framing the jawline; his only reaction was to shove back with all his might, trying to break a grip that was starting to burn his skin.
"Son of a bitch, let me go! Are you crazy?" he shouted, pushing against Paredes—the Argentine player who seemed completely unfazed by the reaction. His eyes still burned with a wild intensity; he clearly wanted a fight, especially since the "golden boy" was alone.
"Did you really think you could meddle in my business and I’d let it slide?" he spat out impatiently. Since the boy was smaller—though still strong—he decided to take action: he drove one of his muscular thighs between the Spaniard's legs, crushing the covered area hard. Gavi let out a cry of pain, his body shuddering as his sensitive region was squeezed. "All of you—you bunch of arrogant shits. If I could, I’d rip all your heads off and..."
The Argentine didn't manage to. He didn't get to finish his sentence because Gavi clenched his fist and landed a hard punch right on his chin. The tall man felt the impact, thrown backward until he landed hard on his backside. Pablo could finally breathe, trying to process what was happening. He looked down and saw the blue-eyed Argentine with wide eyes, his hand pressed against his chin. He was wearing an Adidas kit—athletic shorts and an Argentina jersey—but not the one from the match; apparently, the sicko had showered and then lurked in the Spanish players' corridor, waiting for Gavi. He was so arrogant that he never imagined a guy standing 1.73 meters tall would have the guts to throw a punch.
The Spaniard let out a mocking laugh, enjoying the sight of the Argentine down on the ground. Before Paredes could react, Pablo moved faster, stomping hard on the taller man's balls. The Argentine howled in pain, his blue eyes welling up and his mouth grimacing. Gavi felt a shiver run down his spine, knowing a physical brawl could break out at any moment, but seeing that piece of shit on the verge of tears made him feel incredibly proud—on behalf of all the national teams.
"You guys are terrible losers and terrible players; isn't it easier to just accept defeat? Did you come running back for another humiliation? Seriously, Paredes—you waited all this time just to try and hit me? And now you're getting stomped on by a Spaniard." To emphasize the point, he stomped harder, feeling the body beneath him convulse and the other man's tattooed hand grab his ankle. He was so strong and masculine; if he weren't such a massive asshole, he’d make a great lover... Wait, what was Gavi thinking? "Are you so obsessed with me that you didn't even leave with your shitty teammates?" - He continued to taunt him with a mocking smile, pressing his cleat against that covered member; he felt it pulse—not painfully, but with arousal. It was a dangerous game, and he felt his own breathing shift.
- "Arrogant prick," he heard the Argentine growl. "Once I get up off the ground, I’m going to smash your face in."
- "Really? I thought you were tougher than me—you seemed so brave and 'macho' on the pitch. But now you're getting hard just because I'm stepping on your cock?" The Spaniard asked with a mischievous grin, moving his cleat up and down. He watched the other man's toned legs part as the bulge began to show clearly through the dark, tight shorts. His mouth watered and he felt a flutter in his gut; he could sense through his cleat that the cock was thick and substantial. Fueled by a sudden, unexpected boldness—perhaps the adrenaline of the trophy win or the alcohol in his system—he felt invincible. He leaned in, grabbing the Argentine’s straight hair and pulling his face toward his crotch, forcing the taller man’s nose against the cock that was already hardening at the sight. "Suck it! Or else I’ll crush your cock and make it bleed." He threatened, pressing down harder; Paredes flinched in pain and growled again, the vibration traveling straight to the younger man's own cock, sending a jolt of pleasure through him. It took a few seconds; the Argentine seemed to be waging an internal battle, never imagining he’d find himself in this position. He had set out to hunt prey, not to *be* hunted—let alone to have let his guard down so completely and ended up in such a humiliating spot. But Gavi was a beautiful guy; even when he was sweaty, his cologne smelled sweet and woody. He had long, defined legs, but nothing compared to his perfectly sculpted facial features—as if crafted by Greek artists, he looked just like a Greek statue. I couldn't stop staring at him while he sat on the bench during the first half; whenever he stood up, my eyes were drawn to his big, cute ass. But in the end, anger took over, and I ended up knocking him down and attacking him. He was definitely the kind of guy I’d ask out, but circumstances led to a nasty fight instead.
Large hands gripped the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down along with his underwear, letting his medium-sized cock slap against my face. The tip was pink and swollen—a really handsome member with bulging veins—and I wasted no time taking it into my mouth, savoring the salty taste. I slid my tongue along its length and swallowed hungrily, sucking on him and surprising even myself. The Argentine had never performed oral sex with such desperation to feel a cock deep in his throat.
Gavi hadn't expected the Argentine to give in, but now the cock was deep inside that tight, hot cavity. He seemed like a pro, sucking and moving his drool-slicked mouth all along the length, which was pulsing hard. The Spaniard was lost in pleasure, forgetting his dominant role for a few minutes; his cleated boot was no longer pressing down on the Argentine's balls. One hand held Paredes' hair firmly, while the other—driven by intense pleasure—lifted his own shirt, touching his hard, pink nipples. Rubbing with his thumb, feeling yet another wave of pleasure. Gavi let out a long, shaky breath, throwing his head back as the Argentine ran his tongue over the urethral opening, swallowing the pre-cum and moving down to the heavy, cum-filled balls—sucking so hard that the boy trembled violently, his legs nearly giving way.
The Argentine’s cock felt like it was about to explode, yet an arrogant smile played on his lips; he was taking control of the situation again. The Spaniard’s cheeks were flushed pink, and hot breath escaped his red lips, but he was practically drooling at the sight of that defined abdomen and the way his delicate fingers grazed those nipples—nipples he longed to suck and mark with his teeth. But before he could even react, he felt a firm grip and the cock plunging all the way down his throat; his throat constricted, making him gag hard, yet Gavi showed no mercy, moving his hips and thrusting roughly against the Argentine’s throat. The taller man’s nose bumped against his pelvis, drawing a breathless smile from the boy, who licked his lips amidst the sensation of his tightening throat and the wet sounds of their mouths meeting.
"Yeah, ah, fuck! Suck it right—your throat is squeezing so tight!" he groaned loudly, throwing his head back with eyes closed, quickening his thrusts and fucking Paredes’s throat so deeply the swelling was visible on his neck. Fingers dug into Gavi’s slender waist, and tears wet the face of the man who—despite having his throat ravaged—refused to submit; yet the tears and flushed cheeks didn't fool Gavi. His chin was slick with saliva, a sight that only stoked the fire of arousal in the Spaniard’s lower belly.
"Stick your finger in my tight little ass... Now!" - he demanded, driving his cock deeper and hearing Paredes choke—though the other man didn't hesitate to circle the opening, where saliva and pre-cum were already pooling. He thrust his thick finger into the Spaniard's hot entrance; Paredes let out a muffled moan—a desperate, aroused sound as he felt those internal walls—and began moving rapidly, searching for that sweet spot that made Gavi let out a needy whimper and push down harder on the Argentine's head.
- "That's it... you should learn to bend over like this. You should keep your mouth shut with a cock in it—so handsome, yet such an asshole. I think I'm teaching you a hell of a lesson, right?" he said between moans and breathless smiles, looking down at the Argentine's mouth—filled with his cock—while shuddering as two fingers worked his entrance in a scissor motion, finally hitting the boy's prostate.
- "Fuck, Papi! Yes! God, that feels so good..." Gavi let out a whimpering moan; his whole body went weak, his eyes clouded with pleasure, and his pulse throbbed wildly. He wanted more—he wanted so much more! His brown eyes scanned the dark tunnel; there was no one around, and since he hadn't heard any footsteps—even while moaning loudly—no one was going to interrupt them.
With a rough movement, he grabbed Paredes's hair and shoved his head down hard, causing his cock to pop out of the taller man's mouth with a wet snap. The Argentine fell back onto his butt, his lips swollen, his cock throbbing and near-bursting, his neck and chin slick with saliva—and Gavi's three fingers were thoroughly coated, too. Gavi was fighting the urge to cum, but he was loving taking control; normally, he was a submissive bottom, but holding the power completely shifted his ego. His girlfriend could forgive him, but having this Argentine dog at his feet, desperate to fuck him, felt like a personal victory. - "Do you want to fuck me, Papi?" — his tone shifted; he was speaking softly now, his brown eyes filled with pleasure. He turned around, bracing himself against the wall and spreading the cheeks of his massive ass to reveal his pulsating, pink little hole. He heard a fierce growl as Paredes’ face moved in; a tongue soon slid against him, licking and sucking a long path, while he felt that wet muscle hungrily entering his opening, moving in a rhythmic back-and-forth motion. The larger man’s strong hands gripped the boy’s flesh, squeezing hard enough to leave red marks. Gavi smiled breathlessly, resting his forehead against the wall and moaning softly at the sensation of that tongue hungrily licking his hole; he began to grind against it, bumping his ass against Paredes’ face—who seemed to enjoy the boldness, possessively squeezing that soft skin ever tighter.
- "You didn't answer me... Do you want to fuck me?"
- "Fuck, of course, Gavira... Stop teasing me, kid." — He tried to hold back, but the Spaniard’s body trembled from head to toe at that husky, commanding voice. — "Do you want me to beg for that little ass?" — The Argentine’s voice was provocative as he gave one of the plump cheeks a hard smack. Gavi bit his lip to keep from moaning aloud; his entire body was reacting with intense arousal.
- "Fuck, I’ve been dying to see this bare ass since the game started... You’re so beautiful, Gavi, I "...would do anything to have you..." — before he could even check his words, he realized the slip-up he’d made; the Argentine’s eyes widened and his heart raced, hoping the Spaniard hadn't heard, but a short laugh confirmed that he had.
— "Then fuck me..." — Paredes froze for a few seconds but wasted no time getting up and pulling down his shorts. He felt his legs protest in pain but positioned himself, hands gripping the other's slender waist—having to stoop due to the height difference—and aligned his thick, flushed cock with the entrance. He thrust it in hard, letting out a loud groan as the inner walls tightened and pulsed around him. He bit his lip hard, moving in rapid thrusts, feeling the length of flesh stretching the tight, trembling hole; it was so hot and wet. He was delirious, lost in the pleasure of the erotic friction, unable to hold back his strength as he slammed his pelvis against the soft buttocks, which bounced with every rough movement.
Gavi tried to stifle his loud cries of pleasure but was grateful his face was turned toward the wall; he was sobbing with ecstasy, his hole tingling and burning—a delicious burn. He felt satisfied to finally be filled; the cock was huge, hitting his prostate and sending shocks of pleasure through his entire body. But the movements were rough; he was being pounded relentlessly. Gavi was lifted off the ground with every thrust; he could feel the heavy balls against his backside and hands kneading his waist. At one point, he felt large hands grabbing his cock—which was leaking pre-cum uncontrollably—but the Spaniard slapped Paredes's hand hard, swatting it away. Even though he had surrendered his body, that didn't mean he wanted that kind of contact with the Argentine; he was finding pleasure in being fucked just like this, and the... The last thing he wanted was to be touched without permission.
"Feisty kid, I like it like that... But you're so tame now—cat got your tongue? Or is my cock just too much for you, baby?" Paredes taunted in a low, ragged voice, pressing his strong body against the smaller man. He licked the Spaniard’s nape, making him shudder and let out a soft, needy moan; the Argentine smiled and began sucking and biting that spot, using plenty of teeth to show everyone that this boy was his—that he was being fucked properly and no one would dare touch him. Harboring these possessive thoughts, he slapped one of the boy's buttocks hard and increased the force of his thrusts, pressing against that swollen spot that made the entrance contract. His boy was dissolving into tears yet refusing to fully submit or moan desperately for the Argentine—and that was making him angry.
"How many... How many have had you like this?" His voice was deep and gravelly; the boy needed immense self-control to keep from letting out a needy whimper and hanging his head. But he held his ground, bracing his hands against the wall and rising onto his tiptoes.
"How many? Answer me, dammit!" He growled with jealousy, imagining the boy spreading his legs for the Spanish players. He stopped moving and withdrew his cock from the boy’s body; the boy protested, his hole clenching and fluttering. Gavi remained silent, though his body trembled and his neck was flushed red; Paredes couldn't see the proud smile or the face that was a mess of tears and saliva.
"Fuck... Your tight little ass is fluttering..." he murmured, instantly regretting having pulled his cock out of that hot, snug cavity. - "Is that big asshole Leandro Paredes jealous of me? You’re out of your mind—especially after what you did to me at the end of the match... If you don't make me cum, I'll find another Argentine player to fuck me; I know no one can resist me, and... Aaah!" — he screamed as the cock filled him so deeply he felt his skin tearing; it was in so deep he could feel the thick head shifting his insides.
- "Never! You hear me? No one else is ever going to fuck you again. I’m going to make you cum so good that you’ll be nothing but *my* little slut!" — Paredes was out of control, blinded by jealousy and pleasure, and his monstrous cock punished the Spaniard's now-gaping hole. Gavi groaned loudly, unable to control the sounds or the way he wept while being fucked by the Argentine. His stomach was contracting, his prostate being hit just right; he felt a strong arm wrap around his waist, lifting him off the ground as his body tipped backward, his head near Paredes's neck. Gavi was suspended in the air while the Argentine shifted his cock to press against the boy's sweet spot, making him throw his head back and scream with pleasure; wasting no time, he bit hard into the Argentine's neck, feeling his legs go weak as he came intensely, his cum spilling over the Argentine's abdomen and onto the wall.
He came so hard it ran down his thighs; his entrance tightened around the cock, and with one last thrust, the Argentine followed right behind, letting out a loud, hoarse groan as he coated the boy's insides in white. He had squeezed so hard he felt like his cock might get torn off, but he wouldn't have cared—not when it was Gavi.
Both were sweaty, their shirts clinging to their skin; sweat trickled down Paredes’s large, strong thighs, while the Spaniard’s defined thighs were slick with semen. Gavi felt invigorated—sore and unable to feel his own ass, sure, but revitalized with a belly full of seed.
The Spaniard’s cheeks were flushed and his chest was heaving; he felt a breath against his face and rough hands sliding over his abdomen, caressing him tenderly.
"Breathe, *mi amor*..." He heard a sweet chuckle as thick fingers moved up to the boy's nipples. Gavi let out a playful, needy purr, clutching Paredes’s strong arms. Paredes was mesmerized by the beauty of that sweaty, flushed face and the tender, affectionate side Gavi was showing him. "You smell so good... Beautiful, so beautiful..." he whispered, rubbing the pink buds that hardened at his touch, and began planting kisses all over the Spaniard’s panting face.
"Cut it out, Paredes... Fuck off. The only incredible thing about you is the size of your cock." Gavi managed to regain his composure; he was still upset with the Argentine and wasn't about to just give in after a good fuck—especially without an apology. He simply pushed him away, forcing the cock out of his tight, semen-slicked hole, and ignored the rest as he quickly put his clothes back on. "I never want to look at your ugly face again, you shitty *boludo*." With that, he walked away—practically running toward the locker rooms—fueled by adrenaline, her body aching from the rough sex; he never thought she’d have the guts for it—it was madness! But she had managed to get her revenge, even though she considered everything she’d done incredibly risky.