Guys, I wonât be able to post for a few days. As some of you know, Iâm currently on vacation, and now, Iâm experiencing some severe symptoms, including an extreme fever, a runny nose, a sore throat, and headaches. Iâll definitely keep you updated soon!
Synopsis: Distracting your boyfriend, Bunny Iglesias, from his virtual meeting by giving him head.
Bunny Iglesias was attending some online football meeting, and honestly, you still couldnât wrap your head around the fact that football had meetings. You thought it was just running, kicking, and yelling.
But here he was.
Sitting so calmly in front of his laptop, listening intently while some voice talked about the Champions League, âGeneration 11,â and things you only half-understood. He would occasionally nod, all serious and focused like it actually mattered.
And you were bored, Very bored.
Because the real problem wasnât the meeting, It was him.
The way he looked so unfairly good just sitting thereâshoulders relaxed, posture steady, that quiet athlete focus that made him look like he belonged in every highlight reel ever made. And his thighs⊠honestly criminal. From all that football training, they were just there, looking way too strong for someone who was literally just sitting in a chair doing nothing dramatic at all.
You tried to pay attention to the meeting again.
You failed immediately.
Because why was your boyfriend allowed to look like that during something so⊠normal?
He shifted slightly, and you had to physically stop yourself from reacting out loud.
He glanced at you for a second, eyes softening just a bit like he already knew what kind of thoughts were going through your head.
You quickly looked away.
Absolutely zero self-control.
Suddenly, a bold idea struck you, and before you could even contemplate the consequences of your actions, your body moved first.
You stood up.
Bunny noticed immediately, eyes flicking to you for half a secondâconfused, questioningâbut he couldnât speak. Not with the meeting going. So he just watched as you walked closer.
Then you vanished from view.
Under the desk.
His brain fully stalled. No reaction outwardlyâbecause he couldnâtâbut internally he was like:
What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doingâ
His fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the desk.
On screen, the speaker continued:
ââweâll need tighter spacing in transition phasesââ
Bunny nodded.
His expression stayed professional, but his eyes dropped for a split secondâsharp, warning, but not angry.
More like: please donât make me lose focus right now.
Under the desk, you shifted again.
That was enough to break his composure for half a second.
His shoulders tensed.
He quickly adjusted his posture, coughing once quietly into his fist to cover any reaction, then forced his attention back to the screen.
âMhm⊠yes,â he said smoothly, voice steady, like nothing was happening at all.
Except something was absolutely happening.
Because now he was trying to do two things at once:
1. Be a professional football player in a serious meeting
2. Survive whatever chaos his girlfriend was currently doing under his desk
You reach out, your hand finding Bunny's crotch. You can feel him harden beneath your touch, his breath hitching as you rub him through his pants, his hips bucking slightly as you tease him.
You began taking his pants off underneath the desk, playing with his absolutely large cock. You lean down, your tongue flicking out to lick the head of his cock, tasting the precum that's already leaking out.
He groans slightly, his hands slowly moving to fist your hair as you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around the shaft, sucking gently. You can feel his veins pulsing against your tongue, and you smile to yourself, knowing that you're driving him crazy.
You admire him while youâre pleasuring him. You can see him struggling. His eyes were slightly teary, and his hands were trembling with tension. He looks down at you and smirks, then quickly glances back at the camera.
To tease him, you sucked his entire cock deeper until it reached the back of his throat. His hand swiftly gripped the edge of his desk, and he closed his eyes, trying to conceal the fact that his eyes were rolling back from the pleasure.
Then suddenlyâ
âMr. Iglesias⊠what do you think about the formation?â
ââŠMmâyeah, hold on.â he exhales through his nose, a small groan slipping out as he shifts in his seat, âSorry, I was justâyeah, okay.â
Thereâs a brief pause, and his breathing was uneven. He gazes at the screen a bit longer than necessary, as if heâs trying to catch up with what heâs observing.
ââŠRight.â a low murmur, almost amused but caught off guard. âThatâs⊠okay.â
âIf you say so, Mr. Iglesias.â
Then, you sucked his tip while stroking his shaft. The shock of pleasure made his eyes widen.
âFu-â, he quickly turned off his microphone before he could continue what he was saying.
â-ckâ he glances at you, almost forgetting his camera is still on because his boss insisted everyoneâs cameras be on.
You can feel him getting close, his cock pulsing in your mouth. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the desire burning in them. You smile around his cock, knowing that you're in control now.
You then stroked him even faster, sucking his tip and moaning. Your voice sent vibrations through his dick, making him moan louder. He quickly covered his mouth to hide the fact that he was moaning.
âd-donât stopâŠay mierdaââ
You suck harder, your hand moving to his balls, squeezing gently. He lets out a low moan as his body tenses and he climaxes, his cock pulsing in your mouth. You swallow every drop, licking those that dripped down, your eyes never leaving his.
Suddenly, you hear a voice coming from the laptop, and it catches both your attention.
âOkay! The meeting is over. See you all at the World Cup.â
The call ends.
Bunny looks at you, still struggling to catch his breath.
brooo like broođ you should 100% write about cheater sae and then like a few years later he finds out reader got with YN bunny and is madđđđđđ just sayingđđđđ đđđđđđđ
I absolutely adore this idea, but Iâve already written something similar! đ Itâs quite funny because it was the other way aroundâcheater Bunny then Yn gets with Sae.
If youâre interested hereâs the link to the fic!
Alexis Ness x Reader , genre: fluff/crack , slight ooc
Synopsis: Dating you means your partner is forced to deal with your endless "side quests," which usually end in minor injuries, destroyed furniture, and him rushing over to make sure you're still alive.
Note: Iâm accepting more request for this series! This is lowkey fun to do so u guys should comment on who to do next! :3
michael kaiser, isagi yoichi x reader , genre: suggestive , smau + regular writing
part 1 , part 2 (coming soonâŠ)
You and Michael Kaiser were fuck buddies
Friends with benefits. Nothing more than that. A physical arrangement you both agreed on without ever needing to say it too seriously out loud.
It started exactly like that too.
Kaiser didnât âdateâ people. He pulled you in like it was instinctâone hand on your wrist, spinning you back when you tried to leave too early, voice low and amused like he already knew youâd come back anyway. Youâd show up at his place, and it was always the same rhythm: the door barely closing before he was already in your space, your back against a wall or the couch or wherever he decided he wanted you that night.
He wasnât gentle nor soft, he was precise.
Like everything he didâcontrolled, confident, physical in a way that left no room for misunderstanding.
And you matched it at first.
Rolling your eyes when he smirked at you. Pushing him away when he got too close just to see him pull you back again. Leaving his place in his shirt, hair messy, pretending it meant nothing.
It was FUBU. Simple. Clean. No feelings involved.
But then it stopped being just physical convenience.
He started keeping you longer than necessary. You started noticing how heâd watch you get dressed instead of turning away like before. His hands lingered a second too long when he fixed your collar. You started memorizing the sound of his voice when he said your name like it wasnât just casual anymore.
And thatâs when you got scared, because it didnât feel like âjust FUBUâ anymore. So you left before it could turn into something you couldnât undo.
You turned to your best friend, Yoichi, for advice. He was the only one who knew about you and Kaiser.
You got ready much faster than usual because Yoichi always complained about how long you took getting ready, but you know heâs just teasing you.
You were still halfway through doing your makeup when your phone started ringing.
Yoichi (CALLING)
Yoichi (CALLING)
Yoichi (CALLING)
You answered, laughing slightly. âWhat?â
âAre you still getting ready?â his voice came through immediately, a little breathless. âYou said youâd be ready like twenty minutes ago.â
âI am ready.â
âThatâs a lie.â
You glanced at yourself in the mirror. âItâs not a lie. Itâs⊠delayed truth.â
Then Isagi sighed. âHurry up. Iâm already outside.â
âYouâre WHAT?â
âIâve been here for ten minutes.â
âYouâre insane,â you said, grabbing your things faster.
âI just didnât want you backing out,â he admitted.
That made you pause for half a second.
Then you smiled a little. âIâm not backing out.â
âGood,â he said. âBecause weâre going everywhere today.â
Oh he MEANT it.
The moment you met him outside, the day just didnât slow down.
You and Isagi walked without a proper plan, letting the city decide for you.
First it was the arcadeâcheap lights, loud machines, him absolutely destroying you at basketball games while laughing like it was personal. You tried to take revenge at claw machines and only managed to win something you didnât even want, which he still celebrated like you won a championship.
You kept hopping from place to place, trying random drinks, sitting by windows, talking about nothing and everything at once. Isagi listened more than he spoke, but when he did talk, it was always something that made you think a little longer than you expected.
There was no pressure in the silence between you two.
It didnât feel like you had to perform anything.
Then somehow, you ended up at an amusement park.
You didnât even remember deciding it.
One minute you were walking. The next you were on rides that spun your thoughts out of your head in the best way possible.
Isagi actually screamed on one of them.
âYou were scared!â you laughed afterward.
âI was not.â
âYou literally grabbed my arm.â
âThat was tactical support.â
âSure,â you said, grinning.
For the first time in a while, your chest felt light.
By evening, you were âwindow shoppingâ in makeup stores.
Which really meant you trying on lip tints and Isagi standing behind you holding bags like he was your overworked assistant.
âThat one looks good,â he said at one point, pointing at your reflection.
âYou always say that.â
âBecause itâs true.â
You looked at him through the mirror. âYouâre too nice.â
âIâm honest,â he corrected.
âSame thing.â
âIt really isnât.â
By the time dinner came around, you were both starving enough that McDonaldâs felt like a luxury meal.
You sat across from each other, fries disappearing faster than conversations, laughing over small things that didnât matter.
The day blurred after that.
More walking. More talking. More random stops.
Eventually, you found yourselves at a small bar just to âwind down.â
A few drinks turned into a few more.
Nothing messy. Just enough to make everything feel a little softer at the edges.
Isagi was flushed from laughter, you were leaning slightly into the moment, and time stopped feeling like something you had to track.
By the time he walked you home, it was already past 2 a.m.
The streets were quiet in that rare way where everything feels like itâs been paused just for you.
âYou good?â he asked as you reached your place.
âYeah,â you said. âActually⊠better than good.â
Isagi smiled a little. âGood.â
âText me when you get inside,â he added.
âI will.â
He hesitated like he wanted to say something else, then just nodded. âSleep well.â
âYou too.â
And then he left.
The second you got inside, you barely made it through the routine.
Shoes off. Lights dimmed. Phone forgotten in your hand until you finally sat on your bed.
You hadnât checked it all day, not even once properly. You were too engrossed in the fun and had lost track of time.
You unlocked it casuallyâexpecting nothing.
And froze.
The screen lit up like it had been waiting to ambush you.
Missed Calls (17)
Messages (48)
All from Kaiser.
Your stomach dropped slightly as you open his messages.
shit.
Note: Iâm not sure who the end game should be. You guys should comment on your thoughts. đ Anyway, Iâll post part 2 in a few days because Iâm quite busy. :(
Synopsis: Dating you means Rin Itoshi is forced to deal with your endless âside quests,â which usually end in minor injuries, destroyed furniture, and him rushing over to make sure youâre still alive.
Note: Iâm currently on vacation, but it feels strange not posting. Sooooo, I made this post. I apologize if itâs short, but I plan to expand it into a series. You all should comment on who youâd like me to make next! :)
Itâs Not Living (If Itâs Not With You) â The 1975
Hugo Vivian x Reader , genre: fluff , wc: 2k
Hugo Vivian knew that you always counted the steps whenever you walked upstairs.
Not consciously. You didnât even realize you did it. But every single time, your lips would move soundlessly beneath your breathâone, two, three, fourâuntil you reached the top.
And he noticedâof course he noticed, Hugo Vivian noticed everything about you.
He noticed how you always stole the marshmallows out of his hot chocolate even though you claimed you didnât like sweet things.
How you tilted your head whenever you were genuinely listening to someone speak.
How your fingers curled around the sleeves of your sweater when you got shy.
How you pretended to hate physical affection, yet always gravitated toward him unconsciously â knees touching beneath restaurant tables, your head finding his shoulder during long car rides, your hand brushing against his like your body had memorized him long before your heart admitted it.
And yesâhe noticed your habits while heâs playing too.
How you sat in the stands during his matches, legs swinging slightly as you watched him like it was the most normal thing in the world to be watching Hugo Vivian of the New Generation Eleven miss a pass and then immediately hear you laugh.
Not cruel, never cruel.
Just that soft, breathy laugh like you found him too human for his own good.
And weirdly? Hugo thought it was cute, annoyingly cute.
Even when it was directed at him.
Because every time he misjudged a pass or mistimed a press, heâd hear it.
Your laugh.
And instead of it shaking him, it would just make him click his tongue under his breath likeâSeriously? Youâre laughing?
Like you hadnât just witnessed a New Gen Eleven midfielder miss a pass.
Like you didnât know exactly how ridiculous that was supposed to be.
Heâd glance up at the stands mid-match, eyes narrowing slightly.
And youâd be thereâtrying and failing to look innocent.
Hands covering your mouth.
Shoulders shaking anyway.
And Hugo would think, mildly offended but undeniably fond: Unbelievable. Thatâs my so-called supporter.
Because Hugo never knew what you were.
His number one fan?
Or his number one hater?
You were both, apparently.
And somehow, that made you his favorite person in the stadium.
Hugo Vivian noticed it all.
Because loving you had become instinctive.
You were his best friend. His favorite person. The first voice he searched for in crowded rooms and the last person he texted before sleeping. Somewhere between late-night drives and lazy Sundays spent tangled together on his couch, Hugo Vivian had fallen disastrously in love with you.
And the worst part wasâhe didnât even know when it happened.
Maybe it was the night you fell asleep on his chest while rambling about your childhood.
Or when you showed up at his apartment at midnight because you âjust wanted company,â and the two of you ended up dancing stupidly in his kitchen to old songs playing from his speaker.
Or maybe it was simpler than that.
Maybe Hugo Vivian was always going to love you.
He knew you hated thunderstorms despite pretending they didnât scare you. Every time rain hit your windows too loudly, youâd suddenly find reasons to stay near him.
âHugo,â youâd mumble softly from his bedroom doorway at two in the morning, oversized hoodie swallowing your figure whole, âcan I sleep here tonight?â
And every single time, heâd lift the blanket beside him without hesitation.
âCâmere.â
Youâd crawl into bed beside him quietly, your cold feet immediately pressing against his legs.
âAnd youâre warm,â youâd reply, voice muffled against his shoulder.
Then Hugo would wrap himself around you like second nature.
Like your body belonged there, like you were destined to be with him.
Like it always would.
The terrifying thing about Hugo Vivian was how carefully he loved.
He memorized your coffee order after hearing it once.
He kept hair ties around his wrist because you were always losing yours.
He saved photos of things that reminded him of you â cats sleeping in bookstores, sunsets that matched the color of your eyes, little notes you absentmindedly scribbled on napkins.
And yes, he noticed your stadium habits too.
How you always leaned forward when he was about to receive the ball, like your body could somehow influence the play.
How your fingers fidgeted whenever the match got tense.
How you always relaxed the moment he started controlling the midfield properly, like you could actually feel when he âswitched on.â
Hugo loved that most of all.
Not because you understood football like a tacticianâbut because you understood him, even when he didnât say anything.
He loved you in ways so gentle you almost missed them, Almost.
But sometimes, late at night, youâd catch him staring at you with this unbearably soft expression. Like he was trying to memorize you before the world could take you away.
And your chest would ache so badly it frightened you.
Because no one had ever looked at you the way Hugo Vivian did.
Like he had discovered something sacred.
One evening, the two of you ended up on the rooftop of his apartment building, city lights glittering beneath the dark sky while music played softly from his phone. Some old song by The 1975 hummed quietly between you both.
You were wearing his jacket.
He noticed that too.
âYou steal a lot of my clothes,â he said lazily, leaning back against the wall beside you.
You glanced at him innocently. âMaybe your clothes just like me more.â
Hugo laughed softly under his breath.
God, that laugh.
Youâd spend the rest of your life listening to it if you could.
The wind brushed against your skin as silence settled comfortably between you. The kind of silence only existed between people who knew each other too well.
Then Hugo suddenly spoke.
âYou know what I realized?â
âHm?â
âI think Iâve been in love with you for a long time.â
Your breath caught immediately.
He said it so casually. So softly. Like it had simply become fact.
Hugo turned to look at you then, his expression unfairly tender.
âI knew it the moment I started memorizing things about you,â he admitted quietly. âLike how you always count steps on stairs without realizing. Or how you laugh when I mess up even though youâre clearly trying not to.â
Your heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
âHugoâŠâ
âYou donât have to say anything,â he whispered quickly, almost smiling. âI just needed you to know.â
But you were already looking at him like heâd hung every star in the sky himself.
âYou idiot,â you laughed shakily, eyes glossy. âIâve been waiting for you to say that.â
For a second, Hugo just stared. Then he laughedâsoft and disbelieving and beautiful.
âSeriously?â
âYes, seriously.â
The small grin that spread across his face nearly killed you.
And then he kissed you, slowly at first.
Like he was terrified youâd disappear if he moved too fast.
His hand slid against your jaw gently, thumb brushing your cheek while your fingers curled into the front of his hoodie. The kiss tasted like winter air and coffee and every late-night conversation youâd ever shared.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, smiling so softly it made your chest ache.
âThere you are,â he murmured.
âWhat?â
âThe girl who laughs at me like Iâm predictable.â
You let out a breathy laugh. âYou are predictable.â
âLiar.â
âOkay,â you admitted softly, âbut youâre my predictable.â
That made him go quiet.
Then Hugo pulled you closer by the waist, like the idea of distance suddenly annoyed him.
âYouâre still annoying,â he murmured.
You smiled instantly. âBut you love me.â
Hugo sighed like it physically offended him.
ââŠUnfortunately.â
And after that, loving Hugo Vivian felt easy.
Because he became the type of boyfriend who kissed your forehead every single time he passed by you.
The type who sent you voice messages saying âstop laughing at my passesâ followed immediately by âI miss you.â
The type who still noticed everythingâ
How you counted steps.
How you stole marshmallows.
How you laughed when he missed a pass in midfield like you couldnât help yourself.
And every time it happened, Hugo would just exhale through his nose, shake his head slightlyâŠ
âŠand play better the next time, not because he had to, but because you were watching.
Note: This might be my last post until early June because my schedule is PACKED and Iâm going on vacationâŠT-T
But if I have some spare time, Iâll try to write more for you guys! I love you all :)
hi! i really love your fanfics, it's my bedtime stories heh.. WELL i just wanted to request the most gut wrenching angst ever because there is only a few with that. btw i dont know if this triggering at all, im sorry, you gen dont have to do this if it makes u uncomfortable :)
i would love it to be either chigiri or sae and they have a lovely partner (us) who is suffering from a frail heart, we are dying slowly and they know it too. they do everything they can and yet we still died, they aren't really good at grief since they never experienced it before so they just turn into a depressive state and eventually.. offs themselves.
Both died; only one stopped breathing.
sae itoshi x reader , genre: angst , warning: contains suicide, mental health issues, and death. , ooc
synopsis: sae Itoshi, a professional soccer player, is deeply affected by the loss of his girlfriend. overwhelmed by grief, he succumbs to the darkness and takes his own life.
Sae had always hated hospitals.
Not because they were loudâthey were painfully quiet. Quiet in the way that made every heartbeat monitor sound like a countdown. Quiet in the way nurses avoided eye contact when they recognized him from television, then looked at you with pity instead.
He hated the smell of antiseptic soaked into your clothes. Hated the way your fingers had become colder over the months, even when he held them between both of his hands. Hated how weak your smile had gotten.
But most of all, he hated how helpless he was.
Because Itoshi Sae could fix everything else.
A bad match. A failing team. A broken strategy. Himself.
But not you.
Your heart was born fragile, the doctors said. A cruel thing, reallyâsomeone so full of love cursed with an organ too weak to hold it all. At first, it was manageable. Medication. Checkups. A few scares here and there. You laughed through most of it anyway, teasing Sae whenever he got too serious.
âYou look scarier than the doctor,â youâd mumble from the hospital bed.
And Sae would click his tongue, adjusting your blanket with careful hands.
âThen stop making me come here.â
But he always came.
Always.
Even after overseas training. Even after exhausting matches where his muscles screamed and cameras followed him like vultures. Even when he looked half-dead himself, he still walked into your room carrying your favorite drinks and peeled fruit because you once mentioned hospital apples tasted sad.
He learned your medications by memory.
Learned the signs before an episode happenedâthe way your breathing shortened, how your fingertips trembled slightly before the pain began. He became terrifyingly observant. Watching. Monitoring. Waiting.
You once caught him staring at your chest while you slept.
Not your face.
Your chest.
Just to make sure it was still rising.
âYou should sleep,â you whispered groggily.
Sae looked away immediately. âI am sleeping.â
âYouâve been awake for thirty minutes.â
âTch.â
You laughed softly.
God, he would spend the rest of his life trying to remember that sound.
The worst part was that you never acted angry about dying.
You treated it like weather.
Like something inevitable.
One rainy evening, while the city lights blurred outside your apartment window, you laid against his chest listening to his heartbeat. Steady. Strong. Reliable.
You smiled faintly.
âI like yours.â
Sae frowned down at you. âWhat?â
âYour heart.â
Silence.
âIt sounds healthy.â
Something inside him snapped.
âDonât talk like that.â
You blinked.
âLike what?â
âLike youâre already gone.â
Your expression softened immediately, and somehow that hurt even more.
âIâm sorry.â
âNo.â His voice came out sharp. Broken around the edges. âDonât apologize either.â
He held you tighter after that. So tight it almost hurt.
As if pressure alone could keep your soul inside your body.
Sae became desperate near the end.
Desperation looked ugly on him.
He argued with specialists. Flew doctors in from different countries. Threw money at treatments with microscopic success rates. He stopped sleeping properly. Stopped eating regularly. Stopped showing up to interviews unless absolutely necessary.
Articles started calling him âwithdrawn.â
âCold.â
âMentally absent on the field.â
They didnât know he spent nights sitting beside your bed counting every breath you took because he was terrified one of them would be the last.
You noticed it all.
Of course you did.
One night, you reached for his face weakly and brushed your thumb beneath his eye.
âYou look tired.â
Sae leaned into your palm before he could stop himself.
âIâm fine.â
âYouâre lying.â
âI know.â
Your breathing crackled slightly.
The room was dark except for the dim hospital light beside you both.
âI thinkâŠâ you whispered slowly, âIâm scared now.â
For months, Sae thought he had prepared himself.
Thought he was the strong one between you.
But hearing that tiny confession in your shaking voice destroyed him completely.
He climbed carefully into the hospital bed beside you despite the nurses protesting before, wrapping both arms around your fragile body.
And for the first time in his lifeâ
Itoshi Sae cried.
Not prettily.
Not quietly.
His shoulders shook violently as he buried his face into your neck, clutching you like he could fuse your bodies together and keep you alive through sheer force.
âI canât do this,â he choked out.
You stroked his hair weakly.
âYes, you can.â
âI donât want to.â
Your eyes burned.
Neither did you.
The morning you died was painfully ordinary.
Gray skies.
Half-finished tea on the table.
Your hand limp in his.
Sae had fallen asleep for the first time in nearly two days with his forehead resting against your knuckles.
And when he woke upâ
The monitor was flat.
At first, he just stared at it.
Like he didnât understand.
Like his brain physically could not process what he was seeing.
Then he looked at you.
Your face looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
âMr. Itoshi?â
A nurse entered quietly.
No response.
He touched your cheek.
Warm, but cooling.
âNo.â
His voice sounded distant. Unfamiliar.
âNo.â
The nurse approached carefully, but Sae jerked away violently when she tried touching you.
âNo, sheâs sleeping.â
His voice cracked harder this time.
âSheâs just sleeping.â
The nurseâs expression shattered.
And Saeâ
Sae kept repeating it.
Over and over.
Until the words stopped sounding real.
After the funeral, he disappeared. Not physically, Emotionally.
Training became mechanical. Interviews reduced to one-word answers. He stopped replying to messages unless necessary. Stopped caring about headlines. Stopped caring about football some days.
His apartment remained untouched. Your mug still sat beside the sink, your cardigan still hung over the couch, your slippers still waited near the door.
Sae couldnât move them.
Because moving them meant admitting you were never coming back.
Sometimes he swore he heard you humming in the kitchen.
Sometimes he turned around expecting to see you asleep on the couch.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he reached across the bed searching for your body before reality slammed into him all over again.
The grief made him hollow. Heavy. Rotting from the inside out.
He stopped understanding time. Days blurred together until Rin finally showed up one evening and froze upon seeing him.
Sae looked awful. Sunken eyes, unshaven, blank.
Like someone had carved everything human out of him and left behind only a shell wearing his face.
Rin opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then quietly;
ââŠYou need to eat.â
Sae stared at the wall.
âShe used to remind me too.â
And thatâthat was the first moment Rin realized his brother was truly destroyed.
Months later, Sae still talked to you sometimes.
While standing in empty rooms.
âI scored today.â
Silence.
âThe pass was shit though.â
Silence.
ââŠYou wouldâve complained about my attitude.â
More silence.
And somehow that was the cruelest partâthe world kept moving; people still laughed outside, trains still ran, matches still happened.
But yours didnât.
Your world ended while everyone else continued living like nothing catastrophic had happened.
Like you had not taken entire galaxies of him with you when you left.
And Sae hated them for it.
Because how dare the world keep spinningâwhen you no longer existed in it?
Sae Itoshi sat alone in his apartment, the silence deafening. He looked around at the empty rooms, the untouched furniture, the dust bunnies growing in the corners. It felt like a museum, a place where time had stopped. And he hated it.
He hated the way the sun still rose every morning, like nothing had changed. He hated the way people still smiled at him, like they didn't know. Like they didn't understand.
He hated the way he still felt so fucking alone.
He picked up the framed picture of you two, your smiles wide and carefree. You were sitting on the edge of a cliff, your legs dangling over the side. Sae remembered that day. The wind had been strong, your hair whipping around your face. You had laughed, your eyes sparkling with joy. And Sae had felt invincible, like nothing could ever hurt you. Like nothing could ever take you away from him.
But it did.
And now, Sae felt like a stranger in his own life. Like a ghost haunting the shell of his former self. He looked at the picture, your face frozen in time, and he felt a pang of jealousy. Jealousy that you were at peace, that you were no longer suffering. Jealousy that you had left him behind.
He put the picture down, his hands trembling. He knew what he had to do. He had to end this. He had to end the pain, the loneliness, the constant reminder of what he had lost. He had to end it all.
The room is silent, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Sae Itoshi sits on the edge of his bed, a small bottle of pills clutched tightly in his hand. He stares at them, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows what he has to do. He has to end this. He has to end the pain, the loneliness, the constant reminder of what he has lost.
He unscrews the cap, his hands shaking slightly. He pours the pills into his palm, his eyes fixed on the tiny white discs. They glint in the soft light, innocent and harmless. But he knows better. He knows the destruction they can cause.
He takes a deep breath, bringing the pills to his mouth. He hesitates for a moment, his mind flashing back to a time when things were different. A time when he was happy. A time when you were still here.
But that time is gone. And he is left with nothing but pain and loneliness. He closes his eyes, his heart aching, and swallows the pills.
Sae Itoshi collapses onto the floor of his bathroom, his body wracked with pain. He had taken the pills, all of them, and now he's paying the price. He can feel his heart slowing, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. He knows he's dying, and he's terrified.
But amidst the fear, there's a strange sense of peace. He's finally going to be with you again. He closes his eyes, his mind flashing back to the last time he saw you. Your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes sparkled with life. He misses you so much.
He reaches out, his hand trembling as he tries to touch your face one last time. But there's nothing there. Just empty air. He opens his eyes, looking around the room, hoping to see you, to hear your voice one last time. But there's nothing. Just the cold, hard tile of the bathroom floor.
He takes a deep, shuddering breath, his body convulsing as the poison courses through his veins. He's dying, and he's alone. And he's never felt more miserable in his entire life.
Suddenly, amidst the crushing pain that engulfed his body, he recalled your voice so vividly that it caused his throat to tighten.
âPlease⊠live for me.â
You said it often. Softly, like it wasnât something that would outlive you. And long after you were gone, it stayedâless a memory than a wound that kept reopening, a reminder that you were still speaking to him from a place he could never follow.
Sae squeezed his eyes shut.
"I'm sorry, my love," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Forgive me for being selfish. I just can't live without you."
A tear slipped down his cheek as his eyes fluttered shut.
ââŠPlease wait for me,â he breathed.
Then softly, like a prayer spoken only for you:
âIâm coming home.â
And alone in the silence of the apartment that had once held all his happinessâ
contains: virginity loss, pervert vivian, no protection sex.
Hugo was your best friend. You two were inseparable, like peas in a pod. Youâd been with him since the beginning of his career, long before the fame, before the cameras constantly followed him around, before women started throwing themselves at him every chance they got. Back then, he was just Hugoâyour Hugo. The boy whoâd walk you home after school, steal fries off your plate, and complain endlessly whenever training got too hard.
You grew up side by side, practically attached at the hip. Sleepovers became normal. Sharing hoodies became normal. Sitting on his lap because there wasnât enough space became normal. Everything about the two of you felt natural, effortless.
When you were younger, physical affection meant nothing between you. Holding hands while crossing the street, hugging each other after long days, leaning against him during movie nightsâit was all innocent. Hugo never thought twice about it.
Until you both got older.
Because as the years passed, the two of you changed.
You matured. Your features softened and sharpened in all the right places at the same time, your body no longer resembling the awkward girl he used to run around with as kids. And Hugo changed tooâbroader shoulders, rougher hands, a deeper voice, a stronger presence. The two of you werenât children anymore, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
At first, he didnât notice when things started affecting him differently.
Not when youâd casually sit beside him with your thigh pressed against his during long car rides.
Not when youâd throw your arms around his neck from behind after he came home exhausted from training.
Not when youâd wear his shirts around the house, the fabric hanging shorter on you than it used to.
But slowly, those little touches stopped feeling innocent to him.
Your hand lingering on his arm suddenly made his heartbeat stutter. The way youâd absentmindedly play with his fingers while talking made him lose focus entirely. Even something as simple as you laying your head on his chest during movie nights had him staring at the ceiling for hours afterward, unable to sleep.
And the worst part?
You had no idea, or so he thought so.
To you, it was still Hugo. Your best friend. The person you trusted most in the world.
But to him, every touch started meaning too much.
Especially because you were so comfortable with him.
Youâd crawl into his bed without hesitation when you couldnât sleep. Youâd fix his hair while talking to him up close, your face inches away from his. Sometimes youâd grab his hand in public without even thinking, and Hugo would have to force himself not to squeeze back too hard, not to think too deeply about how perfectly your fingers fit between his.
He hated how affected he became.
Hated how his mind wandered whenever you sat too close. Hated how protective he got whenever other men looked at you too long. Hated how he started comparing every woman to you without even realizing it.
Because somewhere along the way, you stopped being just his best friend.
And Hugo knew he was completely fucked the moment those harmless little touchesâthe ones that once meant nothingâstarted driving him insane.
Hugo genuinely tried to ignore it at first.
He told himself it was temporary. Just hormones. Just stress. Just the result of spending too much time around you.
But it kept getting worse.
Painfully and physically worse.
Because you were still the same with himâcompletely unaware of what you were doing to him.
Youâd plop down beside him after showering, hair still damp, wearing those tiny sleep shorts like it was nothing. Youâd steal his hoodies and stretch in them lazily while talking, the fabric slipping off one shoulder without you noticing. Sometimes youâd climb onto his bed and rest your head on his thigh while scrolling through your phone, entirely oblivious to how hard his dick was.
And Hugo hated himself for reacting the way he did.
You were his best friend.
His best friend.
But his body didnât seem to care anymore.
There were nights when he had to physically leave the room because you had become too comfortable with him. There were also nights when he would lock himself in the bathroom, stroking his dick and clutching the panties he had stolen from your laundry basket as if he were losing his mind. He felt disgusted by his behavior at times, especially because you had trusted him so much.
Meanwhile, you just kept touching him so casually.
Your fingers brushing against his stomach when you reached for something.
Your legs thrown across his lap during movie nights.
Your sleepy voice mumbling his name while half-asleep beside him.
Every little thing chipped away at his self-control.
Hugo wanted you in ways that terrified him.
It wasnât just attraction anymore. It wasnât some small crush he could bury under years of friendship and self-control. Noâthis was hunger. The kind that sat heavy in his chest (and dick) and followed him everywhere, turning every little interaction with you into torture.
Because you were so unaware.
So soft with him.
And Hugo was starting to lose his mind over it.
Sometimes heâd catch himself staring for too long. Watching the way your lips moved while you talked, the way your shorts rode up when you curled beside him on the couch, the way your body fit so perfectly against his whenever you hugged him. His thoughts would spiral instantly, filthy and relentless, before he could stop them.
He started clenching his jaw constantly around you.
He detested how every time these moments end and he returns home, he begins stroking his cock, fixated on the events that transpired.
Looking away whenever you bent over near him because he knew if he kept staring, heâd think about things he absolutely shouldnât.
But it didnât help.
Nothing helped.
Not when youâd absentmindedly sit on his lap like you used to as kids, completely oblivious to the way every muscle in his body immediately locked up. Not when youâd wrap your arms around him and press yourself close without hesitation, your warmth sinking into him so deeply it drove him insane afterward.
And God, your voice.
The sleepy little tone you used with him late at night nearly ruined him every time.
There were moments where Hugo genuinely thought he was going to snap.
Like the night you crawled into his bed after a nightmare, wearing one of his old shirts. You climbed beside him without a second thought, pressing close to his chest like you always did. Your leg tangled with his instinctively, your fingers curling lightly into his shirt while you mumbled his name sleepily.
Meanwhile, Hugo was fixated on the ceiling, his entire body on fire. He was worried you might notice the pent in his shorts.
Because all he could think about was you.
How warm you felt.
How good you smelled.
How easily he could wrap an arm around your waist and pull you impossibly closer.
He felt pathetic for how badly he wanted you.
Sometimes heâd leave after being around you and immediately feel consumed by guilt, because no matter how hard he tried, his mind always wandered somewhere dangerous. He started having to avoid touching you for too long because even the smallest contact affected him now.
Your hand on his chest.
Your nails dragging lightly across his arm.
Your thighs brushing his when you sat too close.
Everything made his thoughts turn dark and needy.
And the worst part was that you still trusted him completely.
Youâd smile at him so sweetly while he sat there internally fighting himself apart. Youâd look at him with those soft eyes while he struggled not to think about kissing you senseless. Sometimes youâd lean into him so naturally that Hugo had to physically hold back a groan.
He wanted you so badly it made him irritable.
Other men touching you suddenly made his stomach twist violently. Hearing you talk about dates or flirting jokingly with someone else put him in horrible moods for the rest of the day. He started standing closer to you unconsciously, touching your waist without thinking, glaring too long whenever someone looked at you in ways he understood all too well.
Because he knew exactly what they were thinking.
He thought the same things every single day.
And it was getting harder and harder to pretend he didnât.
Hugo was close to exploding at this point.
Months of suppressing everything he felt for you had hollowed him out completely. Every little thing you did affected him nowâyour touches, your voice, the way you smiled at him so easily. He was constantly tense around you, constantly fighting himself, constantly trying to stay the version of Hugo you trusted.
Your best friend.
That evening, he was sitting on the couch, lazily scrolling through his phone while trying to ignore the restless frustration sitting heavy in his chest. The apartment was quiet except for the faint sound of traffic outside.
Then the front door opened.
Hugo barely reacted at first, You always barged in without knocking anyway.
But when he looked up and saw your face, everything in him immediately sharpened.
Your eyes were glossy with tears, lips trembling slightly like youâd been trying not to cry the entire way there.
He sat up instantly. âHey. What happened?â
You didnât answer.
Instead, you walked straight to him before climbing into his lap without hesitation, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as you buried your face into his shoulder.
And fuck.
Hugo nearly lost all coherent thought right there.
Your body pressed fully against his, warm and shaking from quiet sobs. He could feel your thighs against his hips, your chest rising unevenly against him while your fingers clutched desperately at the back of his shirt.
Meanwhile, his hands froze at your waist.
Because even nowâeven while you were cryingâhis body reacted to you automatically.
âTalk to me,â he said quietly, voice rougher than usual.
You sniffled against his neck. âIâm so embarrassedâŠâ
His jaw tightened immediately.
âWhat happened?â
âThere was this guy,â you mumbled shakily. âI thought he actually liked me and then I saw him with another girl today andâŠâ your voice cracked, âI feel stupid.â
Something dark twisted inside Hugoâs chest.
A guy.
Another fucking guy.
And somehow you were here, crying in his lap over someone else while Hugo had spent years wanting you so badly it physically hurt.
His hands tightened unconsciously against your waist.
You didnât notice.
You just kept clinging to him, pressing yourself closer for comfort while he sat there struggling to breathe normally. Your cheek brushed his neck softly when you shifted, and Hugo had to shut his eyes for a second because he genuinely thought he might snap.
âYouâre not stupid,â he muttered.
You gave a weak laugh through your tears. âYou have to say that. Youâre my best friend.â
Best friend.
The words hit him like a blade.
Because he suddenly couldnât do it anymore.
Couldnât sit here pretending this was enough. Couldnât keep letting you touch him like this while acting like he didnât crave more. Couldnât keep listening to you cry over men who didnât know you the way he did.
He looked down at you.
Really looked at you.
Your watery eyes. Your flushed cheeks. Your lips parted slightly as you breathed shakily against him.
And something inside him finally broke.
Before he could stop himself, Hugo grabbed your face gently and kissed you.
Hard.
Like heâd been holding it back for far too long.
For a split second, he expected you to shove him away.
Instead, you kissed him back immediately.
And that completely ruined him.
Hugo let out a shaky breath against your lips, one hand sliding from your waist up to your jaw while the other pulled you impossibly closer against him. The kiss turned messy fastâyears of tension and restraint unraveling all at once.
You made the softest sound against his mouth, fingers tightening in his hair, and Hugo genuinely felt dizzy from it.
Because you were kissing him back.
Actually kissing him back.
All those years of wanting you, trying not to want you, trying to bury every filthy thought heâd ever had about youâand now you were melting into him like youâd wanted this too.
He kissed you deeper before he could think better of it, completely consumed. Every suppressed feeling poured into it at once: jealousy, frustration, longing, lust.
His forehead rested against yours when he finally pulled back, breathing unevenly.
And the way you looked at him afterward nearly destroyed what little composure he had left.
Your bodies pressed close as you two kissed again. You could feel his desire intensifying, and you knew he wanted more. You also knew that you were ready.
He pulls back, his eyes searching yours, "Are you sure about this?" he asks, his voice soft. "We don't have to rush into anything. I've waited this long, I can wait longer."
You smile, your heart filled with warmth and affection, "I'm sure, Vi," you say, your voice steady. "There's no one else I'd rather do this with. It's only ever been you."
He looks at you, his eyes filled with surprise and happiness, "Really?"
You nod, "Really.â
He grins, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you closer, "Then what are we waiting for?"
He starts to unzip his pants, but his hands are shaking slightly, betraying his nonchalant facade. He pauses, taking a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair.
You watch him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Vi," you say, your voice soft, "It's okay. We don't have to rush."
He looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire, fear, and disbelief. "No, I want to," he says, his voice hoarse. "I've wanted this for...fuck, I don't know how long. I just...I don't want to mess this up."
You cup his face, your thumb brushing his cheek, "You won't. We're in this together, remember?"
He leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. When he opens them again, they're filled with determination. "You're right," he says, his voice steady. And with that, he finishes unzipping his pants, his eyes never leaving yours.
He pulls you closer, his hands gripping your hips as he positions himself at your entrance. He looks into your eyes, his expression serious. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, his voice soft. "There's no going back after this."
You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. "I'm sure, Vi. I want this. I want you."
He takes a deep breath, and you can see the slight tremble in his hands. He's nervous, you realize. He's been waiting for this for so long, and he's nervous. The realization sends a warmth spreading through you, and you lean in to kiss him softly.
He responds immediately, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that surprises you. He pushes into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. You gasp at the slight pain, but it's quickly replaced by pleasure as he begins to move.
He starts slow, but it's not long before his desire takes over, and he begins to move faster, harder. You can feel the heat building between you, your bodies moving in perfect sync. You can hear his ragged breaths, his moans of pleasure, and it only serves to heighten your own pleasure.
"Fuck" he groans, his voice hoarse. "You feel so fucking good."
You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, whimpering in his ear.
He reaches between you, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in circles as he continues to move inside you. You gasp, your body arching against his as pleasure courses through you.
"Cum for me, sweetheart," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "I want to feel you come apart around me."
His words push you over the edge, and you cry out, your body convulsing with pleasure. He follows soon after, his body tensing as he finds his own release, groaning your name.
For a moment, you both stay like that, him still inside you, your bodies pressed together, your breaths ragged. Then he pulls out, gently lowering you onto the bed beside him. He turns to you, his eyes filled with a softness that you've never seen before.
As you move back to massage his abdomen, you can feel something hard pressing against your ass. You pause, your heart skipping a beat. You look back, and you can see the outline of his cock straining against his pants. You bite your lip, your mind racing.
You turn around, your backânow facing Sae Itoshiâand start massaging his legs, working your way down to his calves. You can feel his eyes on you (specifically your ass), and you grin to yourself, knowing what's coming next.
You reach his calves while youâre straddling Sae's waist, his cock pressing against you through his pants. You grin, your hands gripping Sae's thighs as you start to move, grinding against him, feeling his cock harden even more. "Like this, Sae?" you tease, your voice low and sultry.
"Fuck you," Sae growls, as you slowly peel off your panties, revealing your already wet pussy. You smirk, then turn your attention to him, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and boxers, pulling them down in one fluid motion. His cock springs free, hard and ready, and you wrap your hand around the tip, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Is this what you wanted, Sae?" you tease, your voice low and sultry.
His breath catches in his throat as you wrap your hand around his cock, giving it a gentle squeeze. He can feel the heat of your hand, the softness of your skin, and it sends a jolt of pleasure through him.
You position yourself above him, guiding his cock to your entrance, and he can feel the wetness of your pussy, the heat of it, and it's all he can do to not thrust up into you.
You suddenly drop down, taking him in to the hilt, and moan loudly. He curses, his hands gripping your hips tightly from the sudden jolt of pleasure. "Shit, why'd you do that?" he growls, his voice hoarse with desire.
His cock fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way. You begin to move, riding him with a desperation you've never felt before. You bounce up and down, your hips moving in a frantic rhythm, chasing the pleasure that's just out of reach. He grips your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you down onto him with each thrust.
âSae, fuck,â you moan, your pussy clenching around his cock as you ride him faster, desperately chasing your orgasm. His nails dig into your waist, leaving marks, as he grunts in pleasure. âCum with me,â he murmurs, your body tensing as your orgasm nears.
His hips start to move in time with yours, meeting you thrust for thrust. You can feel the heat building between you, your moans and gasps filling the room. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, and you know he's close.
His thrusts become erratic, matching your own sloppy rhythm. You can feel him swelling inside you, his grip on your waist tightening. "Fuck, I'm close," he grunts, his voice strained. With one final, deep thrust, he cums, his cock pulsing inside you as your body convulses as you ride out your own orgasm. You collapse onto his thighs, both of you panting and covered in sweat.
âSo, Sae, what did you think of my massage?â you ask, breathless.
He catches his breath and says, âI believe you enjoyed it more than I did.â
pwease write rin eating his sweet gf from behind and calling her angel đ„șđ„șđ„ș
Rin Itoshi x Reader , wc: 500 , genre: smut
Rin, kneeling behind you, pulls your hips back towards him. You moan softly, your body already aching with desire.
"Angel," he growls, his voice low and filled with lust. "You're so fucking hot like this."
He leans in, his tongue flicking out to lick you, making you gasp. He chuckles, his hands gripping your ass, spreading your cheeks. "So sweet," he murmurs, before diving in again, his tongue moving in circles, licking and sucking.
You moan louder, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you. "Rin," you gasp, "That feels so good."
He looks up, his eyes filled with desire and love. "I know, angel," he says, before burying his face between your legs again, his tongue moving faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
Rin's tongue explores you, licking and sucking, tasting every inch of you. He groans, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands grip your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh, holding you in place as he feasts on you.
He licks up and down your slit, his tongue flicking against your clit, making you gasp and moan. He sucks it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, sending jolts of pleasure through you. You can feel the heat building inside you, your body tensing as your orgasm approaches.
"Rin," you gasp, your voice breathy. âF-Fuck! I'm gonna cumââ
He looks up, his eyes filled with a hunger that only serves to heighten your pleasure. "Cum for me, angel," he growls. "I want to taste you. All of you."
And with that, he redoubles his efforts, his tongue moving faster, pushing you over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as your orgasm crashes over you. He doesn't stop, his tongue continuing to move, drawing out your pleasure until you're a shaking, panting mess.
When you finally come down, he sits back on his heels, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Fuck, angel," he says, his voice filled with wonder. "You taste so fucking good. Like heaven."
As you come down from your high, Rin stands up, flipping you over onto your back. He looms over you, his eyes filled with a hunger that takes your breath away. "Again," he growls. "I want more."
Rin's tongue moves faster, his fingers joining in, sliding inside you, curling up to hit that perfect spot. You moan loudly, your body pushing back against him, wanting more. He obliges, his tongue and fingers moving in perfect sync, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
You can feel the pleasure building, your body tensing as your orgasm approaches. Rin can feel it too, his tongue moving faster, his fingers curling harder. "Cum for me, angel," he growls, his voice muffled by your flesh. "Cum all over my face and my fingers."
And with that, you do, crying out as your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing as you come apart. Rin doesn't stop, his tongue and fingers continuing to move, drawing out your pleasure until you're a shaking, panting mess. When you finally come down, he pulls back, his face glistening with your juices. He smirks, licking his lips. "Delicious," he says. "I could eat you all day."
