hello (≧▽≦) could i request Sae x reader links ꈍ .̮ ꈍ ? please and thank u
𓂃·˖ ִֶָ ⋆P⚠︎RN LINK —Sae Itoshi⋆ ִֶָ˖·𓂃
Hope you enjoy the filth (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ Let me know if you want more!
This post contains explicit sexual content and is strictly intended for audiences 18+. Includes NSFW themes such as dominant!Sae, submissive!reader, hotel room/ semi-public play, breast play (titfucking), spanking, choking (consensual), praise kink and light degradation, possessiveness, creampie and cum on body, overstimulation, dirty talk, soft threats, voice kink, and fingering under the table. Some scenes may contain elements of mild dubcon.
All links in this post lead to external content hosted on Twitter/X. Tap at your own risk (•ө•)
After the Match: You're seated next to him at the long dinner table. The team’s staff is just a few seats away, but your thigh brushes his, and you’re wearing that fucking dress. The one he knows you chose to mess with his head.
Hasn’t spoken to you either—except to murmur low, like a warning: “Don’t distract me.”
His voice was cold, flat, but his cock had been hard since you crossed your legs an hour ago.
He keeps his eyes forward, jaw clenched, hand resting on his lap like he’s not fantasizing about slipping it under the table. Not imagining your thighs parting for him, slow and obedient, as he pushes your panties aside with two fingers and finds you already wet. “So fuckin’ needy for me you’d let me finger you right here?”
He’d keep his face blank—calm for the cameras, for his reputation—but his fingers would be moving slow and deep, fucking into you knuckle by knuckle while you fought to stay quiet.
“Don’t make a sound,” he’d whisper, lips almost touching your ear. “Want them to know how wet you are for me? How tight you get just from this?”
You’d clench around him. He knows you would. You always do when he talks like that. He shifts in his seat now, discreetly adjusting himself under the table. Every inch of him tense with restraint. You reach for your wine. Your lips glisten. Sae’s eyes flicker to your mouth for a split second too long.
He wants that mouth around him instead. Wants to grab the back of your head and ruin your lipstick down on his cock. Instead, his hand sneaks low. Just enough to let two fingers brush the inside of your thigh. You jump—barely. Then he leans in, finally, pretending to ask something innocent.
“Keep playing, and I’ll fuck you so hard after the game you won’t sit right for a week.”
Post-Match: He wins. Of course he fucking wins.
And you’re waiting for him in the hotel suite, pretending you weren’t soaked halfway through the match just watching him dominate the field. He drops his duffel. Grabs you by the wrist. And drags you to the couch like you weigh nothing.
“On your back. Head on the armrest.” “Mouth first.”
You don’t even get a second to protest. Your head’s tilted back, neck bent against the cushion, and he’s already unzipping his pants. His cock’s hard—veiny, thick, flushed at the tip—and you barely get your mouth open before he’s shoving it past your lips.
“Take it. All of it.” He thrusts. Deep. Brutal. His hips slam against your face, the wet sound of your gagging echoing through the suite. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as he forces himself down your throat, again and again, your throat tightening around him.
“That’s it… fucking messy little thing,” he growls, tightening his fist in your hair.
Your nails dig into his thighs but he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. Just keeps fucking your throat like it’s the only reward he wants tonight.
“Look at you choking—such a good little trophy.”
He pulls out with a wet pop, your lips slick and raw. Your chin’s dripping, strands of spit connecting your swollen mouth to the tip of his cock. Then he slaps it against your cheek. Once. Twice. The sound is obscene.
“Open up again,” he says, rubbing the head across your lips.
Good Girls Get Rewards: Your hands grip the sheets, chest barely supported as your legs tremble under the weight of it all. But Sae doesn’t lean in. He doesn’t cover you. He stays upright behind you—composed, calculated—one hand gripping your hip, the other landing sharp slaps against your ass that echo through the room.
“Harder,” he says, voice low and detached, like this is nothing out of the ordinary. Like he’s not slowly destroying you on purpose. But you know better. He enjoys this. He enjoys you like this.
“Please…” your voice cracks as you try to lift yourself, legs threatening to give out beneath you. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His tone is cruel, flat. He drives into you deeper, harder, and your body stutters forward from the sheer force of it. Your vision blurs.
“Sae… please, let me lie down…” you sob out, voice raw. “My legs— I can’t hold myself up…”
A dry chuckle rolls out of him. Mocking. “What do you think I put you like this for?” His grip tightens as he thrusts again, slower, deeper. “I like watching you fall apart. I like hearing you beg.” Another harsh slap lands against your ass, and you cry out.
“Thought I’d be soft with you? Treat you like a little princess?”
“N-no…” you whisper, trembling.
“Then shut up and keep that mouth pretty.”
He doesn’t ease up. Not even a little. Each thrust feels brutal, merciless, like he’s trying to ruin you from the inside out. But then—he leans in just enough, his breath hot against your ear.
“Though if you cry a little more… I might let you crawl up onto the bed.”
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