❤︎ | Trouble in paradise? Well, Sae has an early morning treat for you to fix that (2.5k wc)
╰ feat. itoshi sae (bllk) x afab! reader
kinktober entry no. 8 | kinktober masterlist
tags - somnophilia, rare sweet sae, sweet and sensual smex, p in v, unprotected smex, p*rn with plot, pussay eating, pronebone, profanity
minors do not interact
"Don't bother coming home. Jerk."
Sae wasn't one to reread texts, but he was beyond restless with the way you two left things an hour ago. It wasn't his fault that he was being kept at work for longer than he would like. He knew you wouldn't believe him when he said that he was trying his best to get home to you.
He wanted to prove a point; he really did. That's why he found himself booking a flight last minute on a trip that takes place at ungodly hours of the night.
That meant his usual ride wouldn't be there to pick him up at the airport and drive him straight to your shared condo unit. The Sae Itoshi had to flag down a taxi and make his way home like an ordinary person.
Sae leaned back on to the worn out faux leather seat of the taxi. His brows were scrunched, already feeling the impending headache caused by the unplanned trip home.
But again, he had to prove a point.
A deep sigh fell from his chapped lips as he opened the door to your place. He quickly checked his watch which read 4:48 AM. He should've been asleep hours ago, but he was generous enough to lose sleep just so he could come home to you as soon as possible.
He pushed his luggage haphazardly to the side before slipping off his shoes. His jacket was next to come off and he simply threw it on the couch.
Sae had to rub the sleep from his face. He'd been yawning multiple times throughout his trip home and he let out one big yawn before opening the door to the bedroom.
As expected, you were fast asleep. You couldn't be bothered to stay on your side of the bed, seeing as how you took up the center all sprawled out and lying on your stomach. Sae watched your sleeping figure for a moment before gently closing the door behind him. He quietly made his way over to the foot of the bed, still observing you.
"Well, here I am. Brat," he muttered to himself. As much as he wanted to tell you that—it was better if he let you sleep. Not that he thought you looked adorable that way, but he wasn't about to wake you up to say something so... asshole-y.
Although, his mind wandered. He was unsure if it was because he always thought this way or because his mind was exhausted from all the traveling he did—but God, did you look ethereal in that silk night dress.
His eyes traced every curve hugged by the fabric. The tiny dress bunched up a bit by your waist, showing off the sorry excuse for panties that you wore to sleep.
He calls them that because it barely covered anything.
Finally, he understood why you were so frantic about him coming home as soon as he could. You missed him and he missed you. Though, "missed" felt like an understatement.
Sae needed you and it took him an awful ride back home to realize just that.
────────────
He had to be careful. Slowly, he let his knee dig into the mattress, the cushions dipping due to his weight. Sae plants both hands on either side of you as he attempts to hover above you. It was like a hungry lion about to pounce on its unsuspecting prey.
He let his eyes roam your body, noting how he'll touch you without waking you up. Up close, he can see how your body rises up and down as you breathe. You looked so peaceful—a stark contrast of what you probably looked like earlier when quarreling with him over text.
A soft sigh escapes his lips. Sae was incredibly tired; he wanted nothing more than to plop down right beside you and snooze until morning. But, then again, he also had this urge.
A burgeoning urge to feel you—to touch you.
He took a single finger and traced the column of your back. Sae watched intently as your face scrunched up, annoyed by the unexpected stimulus.
But, much to his pleasure, that one touch made you shift from lying on your stomach and on to your back. He had to move away a bit to make sure you didn't hit him as you moved.
You were now facing him—mouth slightly agape—telling Sae that you were having a good night's rest. Hi gaze lingered on your face for a moment before it trailed down to where your clothes had bunched up even further.
That only made it harder for him to go to sleep.
Sae could be cheeky sometimes. He pulled the thin strap of your panties with two fingers before letting it go and hearing the 'snap' it made against your skin.
You softly grunted, annoyed that whatever it was that was bothering you hasn't gone away yet.
Truthfully, he found it quite amusing. His mind raced about what he was to do moving forward. But the longer he admired your body, the more sure he became of his choice.
Carefully, he pushed the fabric of your dress a little higher—just enough to show your belly button. He hooked his finger on the strap of your panties before pulling it down, slowly and steadily so as to not wake you up.
Once the flimsy fabric was out of sight, he stared at your lower half again—debating whether or not to continue. But he was already there, wasn't he?
As gently as he could, Sae pushed your leg away, opening you up for him. He had seen you countless of times before, but the sight of your glistening folds always seem to knock the air out of his lungs each time. You were a sight for sore eyes.
Cautiously, he traced your pussy with the pad of his thumb. That alone had him sucking through his teeth. He pressed your clit firmly causing you to squirm, but not enough to snap you out of your slumber.
"Fuck," he whispered into the chilly air of your shared bedroom. He liked foreplay as much as the next guy, but he was sure his dick was going to burst with how hard it was. He needed you now.
But he remembered how irritated you were earlier over the phone... perhaps, he could still be nice enough and prepare you even if just by a bit.
He dug in like a starved animal, lapping at your folds with a newfound enthusiasm you had never seen from him before when he ate you out. He was sure you'd laugh at him if you saw how famished he was for you. The stoic Sae Itoshi would never look so desperate like this.
But you were none the wiser about it, so he didn't care.
He suckled your clit relentlessly and you tried snapping your thighs close, but he made sure you kept them nicely opened up for him. Sae was growing impatient by the second, tongue darting in your hole at a quick pace.
You were already a mess for him. Surely, you should be ready for him at this point.
Sae gave your weeping pussy one last lick before hovering above you again. He could barely make out the expression you were making, but you were probably having the wildest dream right now. He softly patted your head—as if to soothe you—and ran his fingers through your hair.
In a rare show of gentle affection, the man leaned down and gave you a quick peck on your forehead. Somehow, that tiny action eased your expression—as though you knew who it was that gave you such a kiss.
With one hand supporting his weight, Sae used the other to free his aching cock from his sweats. He hissed upon feeling the air wrap around his sensitive skin.
He needed something warm, he thought. It just so happens that the perfect little pussy was right in front of him, waiting to be devoured.
Sae stroked himself a few times, easing himself up first before you'd suck him in without mercy.
He felt like a teenager all over again—biting his lip at such a mundane moment. Mundane—considering the other things you two have done in the past.
Soon as he lined up the tip against your entrance, he didn't wait another second. A guttural groan left him once his tip penetrated you. One swift push and he was halfway in.
It had him throwing his head back. This was new—this was definitely new.
"Sae?"
The faint sound of you calling out his name snapped him out of the immense pleasure he was feeling. Part of him felt a tad bit embarrassed that you caught him at his most vulnerable.
"Happy now? I'm home," he whispers. Although, he gives you no chance to respond—stuffing the rest of his length into you.
It felt like the stars aligned for him. The sun rose high enough at this hour that the light poured into the room. He could see more clearly the way your face contorted in bliss.
He pulled out again, only to sheath himself back to the hilt. He was used to fucking you stupid—purging the brattiness that he had to deal with on the daily. But, for some odd reason, he wanted to go slow today.
Sae leaned down again to give you another kiss on the forehead. He didn't feel all too embarrassed now. Besides, you were half-awake anyway.
"Slept well? You better 'cuz I may have missed you."
His words caused you to choke out a moan. "That's rich."
Usually, with a response like that, he'd start snapping his hips faster. But he controlled himself. You were always cranky in the morning after all.
"I know you missed me. Look at how well you take me." His eyes dart down to where you two were connected. A white ring had formed at the base of his cock and there was already a faint squelching sound every time he bucked his hips into you.
You clicked your tongue, annoyed that there was no way of denying the truth. It was hard to lie with his face close to yours and with his dick dragging along your walls so sweetly.
"You can lie all you want, but your pussy always tells me the truth," he whispers in your ear. Again, he cut you off—biting your earlobe gently.
The unusually slow and sensual pace threw you off, but you weren't complaining. He still hit that spot perfectly like he always did. And you kind of liked this—how he'd whisper sweet things to you, kiss your neck so desperately, and make love to you so tenderly.
Slow as he was, it still brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was quick to catch on it as you wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close to you.
The rapid breathing that filled his ears made him impossibly harder. Neither did it help that you kept getting tighter and tighter around him. He wanted to last longer, but the quivering of your pussy caused by your first orgasm pushed him to climax with you. Sticky seed painted your walls.
It was romantic—kind of. He was only realizing that now.
After his climax died down slightly, it was then he felt the sting of your nails scratching his back earlier. Though it didn't bother him at all.
If anything—it only heightened the sensations he was feeling.
"Fuck... I didn't mean to—"
You coo at him. "It's okay. Don't be embarrassed."
Just like he did earlier, you patted his head—hair rather damp from the sweat that built up due to your activities.
But you were too quick to comfort him because he was still painfully hard even after coming once.
"Ah... Guess I won't be going back to sleep soon huh?"
Sae sighs deeply. "I can deal with it myself. You can go back to sleep if you want."
You knew he had a habit of dealing things by himself even with things in the bedroom. It killed him inside to say that; he wanted to do so much more to your compliant body.
As he was about to pull out, you hastily wrapped your legs around his torso to stop him.
"Goddamn."
Sae couldn't help but bury his face into your neck. Thank fuck you were just as insatiable as he was.
"Sleep can wait," you whisper back.
"Turn around then."
'What?" you asked.
"On your tummy. I wanna do something," he explained.
Reluctantly, you unclasped your legs, letting him pull out. Sae helped you turn to lie flat on your belly. Now, you understood what he wanted to do.
Instead of slapping your ass like he would usually do, he caressed it—admiring his favorite body part of yours. With two large hands, he spread you out for him.
The new position made more blood rush into his dick. He had to fuck you one more time or else it would get too painful again.
He sheathed himself back in. His dick stretched you out deliciously and you tried stifling your moans, planting your face into the mattress.
Sae began fucking you with the same pace as earlier. Every drag along your walls elicited a moan from you that went wasted—being muffled by the thick covers.
He kept you all spread out for him. The grip on your ass was almost bruising even though he had promised to be gentle today. It was simply impossible to not get ahead of himself.
No words were exchanged as he pounded you from behind. The exhaustion you both felt and the need to moan your heart out took precedence.
A groan rumbled from his chest. He was close again. He was coming again way too fast for his liking. Sae was starting to think his dick was having problems, but maybe it was just your tight and warm cunt making him go haywire.
"Fuck... what did you do to me?" he wondered before a deep groan rumbled from his chest.
In response, you came abruptly—coating his length with your juices. You let out your most vulgar moan that morning. Your neighbors would have definitely heard if it weren't for the bed suppressing most of the volume.
You've had too many complaints in the past.
"Hahhh... waking up the neighbors? What a dirty fucking girl you are. Take it—take it all."
His hips began to go at a staccato pace, going out of beat once in a while in anticipation of his incoming high.
With one final thrust of his hips into you—he came so much like he hadn't just emptied himself in your cunt earlier. A warm sensation flooded your pussy again.
Sae swore that if he had time to rest after the match and before getting on that plane, he wouldn't be pathetically lying on top of you like this. He swore that he wouldn't collapse after coming a measly 2 times.
💬A/n:. Sorry, I've been gone for so long. I finally moved out. I had a chance to finish this request. This is my first smut fanfic, so I am a little nervous. I hope you like it. Masterlist
🦝Summary: After an intense and possessive encounter, Unum’s restraint finally breaks, driven by jealousy and the need to reaffirm control. The moment is charged with obsession and dominance, as he demands your full attention and reminds you that you belong to him
☢️disclaimer: Gender neutral until sex scene, vaginal penetration, finger, oral sex, and a bit of hand bending. I think that is all
He was your husband, yet you were meant to be little more than a pet to him.
At least, that was what Septem had told him.
Unum stood at the edge of the Garden, watching as you chased Shams and Noor through a meadow of wildflowers. Their laughter drifted through the air, light and unguarded. You moved among them like sunlight given form, skirts brushing petals, hair catching the glow of the afternoon.
For a moment—just a dangerous moment—Unum became a devotee.
His chest tightened painfully, as though the simple act of breathing had been stolen from him. He turned his gaze away, forcing his attention onto the children—creations born not of love, but of an experiment, a whim of godly desire. And yet, when he closed his eyes, it wasn’t divinity he felt.
It was their heartbeats.
Intertwined with yours.
That was the only sound he wanted to hear.
He leaned back against a nearby tree, tossing an apple into the air and catching it with practiced ease. His thoughts spiraled, tightening around themselves. Each time you smiled, something sharp and unfamiliar stirred inside him—a craving so visceral it made his mouth water. Frustration simmered, hot and uncontrollable.
He didn’t understand it.
He didn’t know when it began.
You were supposed to be a plaything—something his mother had given him. Something disposable. And yet the urge to devour you burned through him, even as he knew it would bring sorrow instead of satisfaction.
That knowledge only made it worse.
Then—
“Good afternoon, Unum. I’m here for the weekly check on the children.”
Septem appeared at his side. Unum offered him a cold glance. Once, Septem had been nothing more than a mild irritation. Lately, his presence scraped against something raw.
“Yes, I know,” Unum replied sharply. “You come every week. And you remember you agreed she would be present during the checkups.”
“Oh. Right. I remember,” Septem said with a smile that never reached his eyes—a warning wrapped in politeness.
Septem walked past him, moving toward you and the children. Too close.
Unum’s instinct screamed at him to intervene. His hand tightened, crushing the apple in his grip. Juice spilled down his fist, running along his wrist and arm. He glanced at the sticky golden trail, then slowly lifted his arm and licked it clean, his gaze never leaving you as you drifted farther away.
One thought burned through him, singular and absolute:
No one can have you.
Only him.
By the time dinner finally crept close, the kitchen had grown warm with steam and quiet tension. You stood at the counter preparing the meal while Unum worked nearby, sanctifying each dish with careful precision so it would be safe for everyone—especially you. The soft glow of divinity followed his hands as he murmured blessings under his breath.
Your own hands, however, were far less gentle.
The knife struck the cutting board again and again, each chop sharp and unforgiving, as if you were carving your irritation straight into the vegetables. The rhythm was too fast, too harsh. Unum noticed immediately. He had noticed, in truth, ever since the children’s checkup ended—since the tightness in your shoulders, the way your smile never quite reached your eyes.
It amused him.
A quiet chuckle escaped him at the sight of your furrowed brow and wrinkled nose, an expression so familiar it tugged something fond—and dangerous—in his chest.
You snapped a glare in his direction.
“What is it?” you asked, irritation bleeding clearly into your tone.
Unum lifted his gaze from the bowl he was sanctifying, the soft glow around his hands dimming as his full attention settled on you. Amusement lingered briefly in his eyes, but it faded when he noticed how tightly you were gripping the knife, your knuckles blanched white.
“That,” he said calmly as he stepped closer, “is the sound of someone taking their frustration out on innocent vegetables.”
He moved in behind you, close enough that his presence boxed you in—not threatening, but inescapable. One arm braced lightly against the counter as his other hand reached forward, closing gently around your wrist. He didn’t force you to stop; he simply steadied the motion, grounding it. His touch was warm, deliberate, and your cheek flushed pink when his breath brushed the back of your neck.
“You’ve been like this since the checkup,” he continued quietly. “Your anger is loud tonight.
There was a pause—you froze.
His thumb pressed lightly against your pulse, as if he were listening for something deeper than your heartbeat. You felt him swallow behind you, that strange, unspoken yearning tightening in his chest. With deliberate patience, he coaxed the knife from your fingers, guiding your hand open and threading his fingers through yours instead. His free arm slid slowly around your waist, drawing you back until your body was pressed flush to his.
The hunger in him was unmistakable.
Oh, how he wanted to consume you.
Then—carefully, though something sharp hid beneath the calm—he asked,
“Did Septem say something to you?”
“Septem made Noor eat less,” you murmured, your voice small, trembling. “Why would Septem—”
Your words faltered, swallowed by the stillness that settled over Unum. His grip tightened slightly around your hand—not in anger, but in restraint. The arm at your waist pulled you closer as he dipped his head, brushing his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in as though your scent anchored him.
“Why don’t you stop Septem, Unum?” you asked, your tone sharp with confusion and hurt. “Aren’t you angry?”
“You know I can’t,” he replied quietly. “Septem outranks me. What he commands, I must obey.” A pause. Then, more honestly, “So yes. I am angry.”
His teeth grazed your skin in a brief, possessive nip, making you gasp. His voice dropped, thick with something dangerous.
“I don’t enjoy another man taking your attention from me,” he murmured. “You are mine.”
You melted against him despite yourself, your knees weakening as he leaned you forward against the counter, his mouth lingering at your neck. You moaned when his hands tightened, exploring your breast with a claiming urgency that made your pulse race. He hummed, pleased by your reaction.
“Wait—Unum,” you breathed. “What are you doing?”
“Mine,” he answered.
Then he froze.
A soft, broken hiccup escaped your lips.
Unum pulled back slowly, dread flooding his expression. His thoughts spiraled—had he hurt you? Gone too far? The sensation in his chest was different now, sharp and unfamiliar, as though something vital were cracking open.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, voice unsteady, confusion laced with panic. He reached for you, whispering your name—
—and you slapped his hand away.
“You really care more about claiming me than listening to me,” you cried, fury and pain spilling over. “Like I’m some object you own!”
You stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Unum staring at the space you’d occupied moments before.
Anger burned through him.
You rejected him. Why? You were his. The children were his. Had he not provided it? Protected? Was he not enough?
His thoughts circled relentlessly, always landing on the same answer.
Septem.
The one man he could not defy.
His jaw clenched as his fist slammed into the counter, the sound echoing through the empty room. Frustration stung his eyes, tears slipping free before he could stop them. These feelings—jealousy, fear, desire—twisted inside him, driving a desperate need to ensure you would never look at anyone else the way you looked at him.
But even as the thought took root, he knew one thing with terrible clarity:
If he wanted to keep you, he would have to learn what this feeling is.
—--------------------
You lay curled beneath the thin morning light, listening as two mourning doves sang softly to one another outside your window. Their cooing was gentle, intimate—too peaceful for the storm churning inside you. You watched them through the glass, their small bodies pressed close on the branch, while anxious thoughts gnawed relentlessly at your mind.
You had disrespected a god.
The realization returned again and again, heavy as a weight on your chest. What punishment awaited you? Silence felt worse than anger. Unum had not appeared since the outburst, and that absence terrified you more than his presence ever had. Each passing day stretched your nerves thinner, and cowardice kept you rooted where you were, afraid to seek him out, afraid of what you might find in his eyes.
You were still lost in those spiraling thoughts when the sound of a door opening cut through the quiet.
Your body froze.
Heart pounding, you slowly pushed yourself upright, every muscle tense, breath shallow—as if moving too quickly might seal your fate. Before you could even turn toward the sound, something small and solid collided with you. You were knocked backward as Shams and Noor barreled into you at once, laughter and warmth crashing over you without warning, yelling, “Good Morning!”
You yelped, startled, instinctively throwing your arms up as they clung to you, their sudden presence shattering the silence you’d been drowning in. Their laughter filled the room—bright, carefree, contagious—and despite everything weighing on you, it pulled a smile from your lips.
You snuggled your babies close, breathing them in, grounding yourself in their warmth.
That was when you noticed him.
Unum stood just behind them, having appeared so quietly you hadn’t heard him approach. In his hands was a simple tray of pancakes, steam still curling faintly into the air. He watched you for a moment before moving, his steps soundless as he walked closer. Without a word, he knelt and placed the tray carefully on your lap, his gaze never leaving yours.
You froze beneath the intensity of it.
He reached up, cupping your cheeks in his hands, thumbs warm against your skin. A smile tugged at his lips—not wide, not cruel, but unsettling all the same, teeth just barely showing.
“Morning, how did you sleep?” he murmured.
He leaned in and kissed you tenderly, softly, as if nothing had happened between the two of you—no raised voices, no fractured trust, no silence that had stretched for days. The normalcy of it made your chest ache.
Slowly, almost without realizing it, you leaned into his touch. Your head tilted back just enough to bare the line of your neck to him.
Unum’s pupils dilated at the sight of your exposed skin. A slow, possessive hunger stirred in him—an urge to claim, to mark, to make permanence where uncertainty lingered. He lingered there, unmoving, savoring the moment rather than taking it.
His gaze darkened with private fixation, mouth curving into a faint, knowing smirk. He took visible pleasure in how easily you yielded, how your body responded before your thoughts could intervene—choosing to read it not as habit or fear, but as devotion.
As a submission.
And he enjoyed it.
He enjoyed the control he held over you.
A low chuckle slipped from him as his thumb traced your jaw.
“You missed me?” he teased lightly.
Heat bloomed in your cheeks, the tips of your ears flushing despite yourself. You looked away.
“The bed felt a bit colder than normal.”
Yes. Of course, you had missed him. You hated that you had.
Your gaze dropped to the pancakes just as Shams tugged at your sleeve.
“Mom, we helped Daddy mix the batter!”
“Oh? You did?” You giggled, warmth blooming briefly—until you noticed Noor’s stare. Fixed. Hungry.
Something twisted sharply in your chest.
Septem’s orders echoed in your mind, bitter and cruel. You quickly cut a piece of pancake and offered it to Noor.
“Here, baby. Eat some.”
Noor froze. Then he shook his head, covering his mouth before bolting from the room.
“Noor—” You stopped yourself mid-call. Shams ran after her twin, leaving the room painfully quiet.
You leaned back, jaw clenched, anger simmering just beneath the surface.
Unum had gone very still.
The shift was subtle, but unmistakable. His hand tightened briefly at his side. His jaw set. The warmth he’d worn moments ago drained from his expression, replaced by something colder—older. His gaze flicked toward the doorway where Noor had disappeared, and for a moment, Septem’s name seemed to sit there unspoken, heavy and unwelcome.
Slowly, deliberately, Unum sat beside you, close enough that his presence pressed against yours.
“I have a meeting with Septem,” he said evenly.
The calm in his voice was practiced. Controlled. Dangerous.
“I’ll see that he allows Noor to eat properly,” he continued, eyes narrowing just slightly.
It sounded like a promise.
Or a warning.
—
Later that day, you sat beneath the open sky, watching the children tumble through the grass as they wrestled and laughed, their voices bright and carefree. Noor shrieked with laughter as Shams pinned him down, only for the balance to tip moments later. You smiled faintly—but your attention kept drifting, your thoughts snagging on something heavier.
Unum.
You were so lost in thought that you almost didn’t notice Ignis beside you until she spoke.
“Is something weighing on your mind?”
You stiffened slightly, then turned your head. Ignis was watching you—not prying, just observant, her expression gentle but sharp in that way she had. You exhaled, shoulders dropping.
“A little,” you admitted. “I… well. Unum and I—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “We got into a fight. I guess that’s the shortest way to put it.”
Ignis hummed thoughtfully. “So you’re not speaking?”
“No—! I mean—” You shook your head quickly, frustration creeping into your voice. “That’s what I thought at first, too. I yelled at him. At a god.” You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “I was sure that would be the end of it.”
She raised a brow, waiting.
“But then,” you continued, quieter now, “he brought me flowers. And breakfast in bed. Just yesterday.” You stared down at your hands, fingers twisting together. “He acts like nothing’s wrong… like we didn’t hurt each other at all.”
Ignis glanced toward the children, then back to you. “And that confuses you.”
“Yes.” You nodded slowly. “I don’t understand him. I don’t know if he’s apologizing… or pretending. Or if he thinks affection can fix something he won’t even talk about.”
Your voice softened, almost fragile.
“And that scares me more than if he were angry. I just want to understand him…”
Across the field, Unum’s gaze never left you—sharp, possessive—like the world had narrowed to a single point he refused to release. Dark red stains marred his clothes, carefully concealed beneath layers of fabric and stillness, hidden under a tree well enough that neither you nor the children would notice.
Ignis, however, did.
She watched him from afar, eyes narrowing just slightly, and murmured under her breath,
“Sometimes gods are afraid of losing something.”
“What?” You frowned, turning instinctively—but there was nothing there. Only the children’s laughter drifting through the air, only the tall grass swaying lazily beneath the sun.
Ignis straightened beside you, her expression smoothing into something unreadable. After a brief pause, she spoke lightly, almost dismissively,
“Why don’t you go take a bath?”
You blinked. “A bath?”
She waved a hand, her gaze flicking once more toward Unum before deliberately looking away.
“Your scent is… bothersome today.”
The words lingered longer than they should have.
You hesitated—but Ignis was already rising to her feet, gently ushering the children back toward the garden path as though the choice had already been made for you.
“Go,” she said again, softer now. “I’ll watch them.”
—
The antechamber to the baths was quiet, familiar. You stood where you always did before undressing, fingers curling into the hem of your shirt. You pulled it over your head slowly, Ignis’s words echoing in your mind.
Afraid of losing something.
You froze halfway, staring at nothing as the question slipped from your lips in a whisper.
“Losing what…?”
You dropped the rest of your garments into the woven basket without looking, missing the dark red–stained robe buried beneath the folds. The mirror caught your reflection instead. You lingered there, eyes unfocused, replaying the moments you and Unum had shared—the closeness, the tension, the way his presence had felt too heavy to escape as he would have eaten you whole.
Your fingers brushed your lips unconsciously, remembering the heat of his breath, the pressure of his mouth. A faint blush crept across your cheeks.
“…It can’t be,” you murmured, doubt and unease tangling in your chest. “Me… can it?”
You wrapped the towel more tightly around yourself, as if it could guard you from the thought. With one last glance at your reflection, you turned and stepped into the bathing chamber.
The baths were quiet—stone walls still warm from the afternoon sun, steam drifting lazily through the air. The scent of herbs clung to your skin as you took another step inside.
Then you noticed you weren’t alone.
Gray, star-flecked eyes lifted to meet yours.
Unum.
His red hair, usually untamed, lay slicked against his face, darkened by water. He stood near the basin, rinsing dried blood from his skin, his attention divided between the task and a wound along his back. When he realized you were there, a slow, knowing smirk curved his lips.
Under the quiet weight of his presence, your gaze betrayed you, tracing along his well-built body without shame. You tightened your grip on the towel, gently biting your lips as you felt a strange arousal. Part of you ached to step closer, to give in to the pull he held over you; another part urged retreat, warned you to turn away while you still could.
You never made the choice.
Unum noticed everything.
The hesitation.
The want.
The way your body led toward him even as your mind searched for escape.
His mouth curved—not quite a smile. Something more knowing.
Before you could decide, he reached out and closed his fingers around your hand, firm but unhurried, stopping you where you stood. His touch wasn’t asking—it was anchoring. Claiming. He brought your hand close to his lips. His lips pressed lightly against your knuckles as if reminding you that you were adored.
His gaze never left your face as he stepped closer, close enough that you felt the heat of him through the steam, close enough that the choice felt like it had already been made for you. He towered over you, leaning his face closer to you. To kiss you. To tease you.
“Let me wash your back,” he murmured slightly, possessively. “I know every place your hands can’t reach.”
“You… wouldn’t mind?” you asked softly as you stepped fully into the bathing chamber, stripping the towel from your body and leaving it behind like a discarded thought—your last line of defense.
Unum’s breath hitched—just once—but his eyes darkened immediately, tracing you with open hunger. There was no shame in the way he looked at you, no attempt to hide it. Your body was not something to be glanced at and forgotten; it was something to be claimed, studied, and adored. Something meant for him.
For a fleeting, dangerous moment, he thought his action worth it—worth the lines he’d crossed, the restraints he’d shattered, the things he’d destroyed just to keep your eyes from drifting beyond his reach.
When he took your hand, his grip was firm, decisive, guiding you into the bath as though there had never been another option—his thumb brushes against your knuckles, grounding, possessive.
“Never,” he answered quietly.
His other hand settled at your hip, warm and certain, fingers curving as if they already knew the shape of you. Not claiming you aloud—but making it unmistakably clear.
You were here.
And you were his and only his.
“Unum…” Your gaze flickered from his yearning eyes to his lips before you looked away, heat rushing to your cheeks. You placed your hands against his chest, intending to collect yourself—but the moment you touched him, he drew your body closer, firm and unyielding.
You gasped at the sudden movement, your breath hitching as your body flushed warm beneath his hold. His presence enveloped you, overwhelming in the quiet way only he could manage, his forehead lowering until it touched yours.
“Don’t look away,” he begged, his voice low, frayed at the edges with restraint. One hand rose to cup your cheek, firm and reverent, anchoring you as though he feared you might disappear if he loosened his hold. “Please keep your eyes on me and only me.”
Then his lips found yours—hungry, unguarded. Your body pressed instinctively closer as your arms slid up his back, fingers curling into the damp fabric there. Your kiss softened, exploring the faint scar along his lip, until he caught your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down just enough to steal a breathless whine from you.
He pulled back before it could deepen, eyes dark and glowing as he took in your dazed, love-drunk expression. A low chuckle left him, equal parts amusement and want.
“As much as I love you melting in my arms,” he murmured, thumb brushing your swollen lip, “I’d rather do it properly—in bed. Not in a bath.”
“So what now?” you asked, a hint of disappointment slipping into your voice before you could stop it.
Unum’s lips curved faintly.
“Taking care of what is mine,” he teased, clearly pleased by the way you softened under his attention.
He reached for a nearby bar of soap and drew you back against him, settling you onto his lap with unhurried confidence. His hands moved to your shoulders, firm and practiced, kneading away the stubborn knots you’d been carrying for days. The tension eased under his touch, warmth spreading through you as your body gradually gave in.
Your breath caught when his rough hands cupped your breast, caressing your nipple just enough to make your pulse stutter. He leaned in, brushing a slow kiss along the back of your neck, sending shivers racing down your spine. You clutched at his arms instinctively, grounding yourself in his strength as His hands exploded your curvy body, cleaning you. His presence slowly closed around you, devouring all your senses.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured, amused, pleased.
“Unum… wait,” you whispered, breathless, feeling Unum nip the crook of your neck.
A low sound of protest rumbled in his chest as his tattooed fingers clutched your inner thigh slightly.
“What is it?” he asked, his eyes darkening.
You hesitated, then forced yourself to speak.
“How was your meeting with Septem?”
His stillness was immediate.
A pause—brief, controlled—before his voice returned, lower than before.
“Why,” he said quietly, stiffening, “are you thinking of others right now… when I’m here?”
“What—ah!” The sound tore from you before you could stop it as his restraint finally fractured. He pulled you closer, his grip turning firm, possessive, overwhelming. His teeth bit into your shoulder blade—not playful, not gentle—sending a sharp reminder of his strength straight through you. You tried to push him back, but he bound your hands together with his whip. He wasn’t going to hold back anymore.
His voice dropped to a furious whisper against your ear.
“If I have to make you forget everything but me by fucking you,” he growled, “then I will.”
Your body betrayed you, trembling as he began fingering you, thrusting roughly, watching your hip buckle under his touch alone. He took unmistakable pleasure in hearing you moan his name. He loved how exposed you were, how easily you came undone. He wanted more than your body; he wanted your focus, your thoughts, your obedience. He wanted to leave no room in your mind for anyone else.
With his free hand, he tilted your face toward his, forcing you to meet his gaze before his mouth claimed yours. Then he began to stimulate your right bud, making you mewl. The kiss was deep, consuming, leaving you breathless and unsteady. You tried to speak—tried to ground him.
“Fuck. Unum—” You panted heavily, feeling lightheaded.
Only for him to answer by sliding his tongue in your mouth. His presence closed in your mind until there was nothing but him. He massaged your tongue, groaning softly. He slowly rocked his cock against your ass, wanting you to feel how aroused he was.
His thumb circled on your clit skillfully, while his other tattooed fingers continued to massage your inner walls. He could feel your walls twitching around his finger. He could tell your body was yearning for more. He smirked.
With your vision blurred, your legs lightly trembling as he slowly turned you around just enough to look at you—truly look at you—melting, dizzy from him alone.
That pleased him most of all. But he wanted more. He whispered to you, “We are not done, sweetie.”
A slow smirk curved his lips, dark and satisfied. He loved the sound of your whimpers—the way they trembled and broke just for him—as he slowly pulled his fingers out from your needy pussy. The slick warmth clung to his skin, and for a moment, his expression shifted, frustration flickering through his eyes. He had denied himself for too long. Taking his fingers out of the water, he stared at them with open disappointment, jaw tightening at the thought that he couldn’t taste you properly because of it.
“I suppose,” he murmured, almost to himself, voice thick with hunger, “I have to eat you out.”
Before you could protest, he lifted you effortlessly out of the water, settling you over his shoulder as though you weighed nothing. The sudden shift made your breath hitch, the world tilting forward as your stomach fluttered. You instinctively clung to him, fingers digging into his skin for balance. He steadied you by gripping your thighs firmly, possessively, as if reminding you exactly who held you there.
“Unum…” you whispered, unsure whether it was a plea, a warning, or surrender.
He didn’t answer. He was already too focused.
“Damn, babe… You look so good,” Unum teased, voice low and heated, as he used his fingers to spread your folds apart slowly. He swallowed thickly, a faint string of drool gathering at the corner of his mouth. Smirking, he blew a soft stream of air against your cunt, watching with open amusement as you jolted in surprise. His chuckle vibrated against you as he tightened his hold.
“Thank you for the meal~.”
“Wait—Ah!” The sound strangled in your throat when his tongue finally brushed along your nub. Your body reacted instantly, heat surging through you, breath catching as your fingers twitched in his hair. He didn’t miss a single reaction. He watched your face carefully—how your eyes grew heavy, how your lips parted, how your entire body flushed and softened under him.
He smirked, licking slow, deliberate circles around your clit, savoring every twitch. You struggled to steady yourself while he ate you hungrily, your fingers gripping his hair a little too tightly. The intensity made your thoughts blur.
“Unum—muhm… what’s going—hah—on with you? Ah!”
He answered with a groan, deep and almost desperate. He felt drunk on you, intoxicated by your sweetness, by the way you responded to him so openly. You tasted addictive—sweet and overwhelming—and he devoured you like he’d been starved. His tongue moved in steady laps between your legs, relentless and intent. When your body clenched around the rising pressure low in your stomach, he felt it—felt how close you were.
You tried to shift away, overwhelmed by the sensation, but Unum reacted instantly. He nipped harshly at your inner thigh, a sharp warning. Looking up at you from between your legs, eyes dark and burning, he growled,
“I didn’t tell you to move.”
His grip tightened, possessive and unyielding.
“Now,” he added, voice rough and commanding, “be a good girl… and let me eat you.”
Unum shoved you closer, holding you firmly in place as he delved his tongue in deeper, unwilling to stay restrained any longer. A broken moan escaped your lips as your body instinctively leaned forward into him, chasing the sensation even as it overwhelmed you. Your breath came in heavy pants, chest rising and falling rapidly, shivers racing down your spine as pleasure tangled with the raw intensity of his need. You moaned his name like a prayer. “Unum~ ”
His tongue moved with greedy purpose, savoring the hope and heat he tasted. He tilted his head slowly from side to side, searching, exploring, determined to draw out every reaction from you. It wasn’t just hunger—it was deprivation finally snapping. He had denied himself for too long, and now that he had you like this, he refused to hold back.
A soft, almost desperate whimper left him, the sound betraying how deeply he had been starving for you. His grip tightened, not to hurt—but to anchor you there, to keep you from slipping away again. There was something unhinged beneath it now, something raw and aching. He wasn’t just indulging.
He was reclaiming.
And he wanted more.
When he finally pulled back to breathe, you slumped against him, cradling his head instinctively. He gave a low chuckle, licking his lips clean before glancing up and pressing his forehead gently to yours. You were close—he could see it in your unfocused eyes. He kissed you softly, drawing a helpless mewl from your throat.
“So cute~” he murmured, adjusting his hold so your bound hands rested around his neck, anchoring you there — making sure you stayed close, exactly where he wanted you.
Slowly, deliberately, he lowered you until you felt him poised beneath your entrance. Your head rested on his shoulder, your thoughts hazy, light swimming through your mind as your body struggled to keep up with everything you were feeling. His breathing grew heavier against your skin, restraint wearing thin as he teased your slick heat with the tip.
His voice dropped into a rough whisper, warm and possessive against your ear.
“I know I said I would take you properly… but since you chose to give your attention to someone else…”
His grip tightened at your hips, not painful — but certain. Claiming.
“I’ll have to remind you who you belong to, love.”
He littered your jawline and neck with slow, deliberate kisses, lingering at each mark as though sealing ownership into your skin. Each press of his lips sent small shivers through you, your breath catching before he finally pulled you into a deep kiss — and thrust himself inside.
“Unum—fuck~” you gasped against his lips, the sudden fullness stealing the air from your lungs as his pace turned rougher, restraint finally snapping under the weight of his need. The kiss broke messy and breathless, your words dissolving into him.
He bit down on your lower lip, a low groan rumbling from deep in his throat, the sound vibrating through your chest. His hands gripped your ass tightly, fingers digging in with possessive insistence, holding you exactly where he wanted you — making sure you couldn’t pull away, making sure you felt every inch of him.
He panted against your skin, breath hot and uneven, control unraveling faster with each thrust. God, you’re making it hard, he thought, jaw tightening as pleasure blurred the edges of his discipline.
He drove into you in deep, relentless strokes, and your body answered him instinctively, clamping around his cock as if trying to keep him there. He could hear you — soft, broken mumbles of his name — feel your fingers clawing at his back as you tried to steady yourself, tried to endure the overwhelming rush building inside you.
You felt yourself growing wetter, heat pooling low in your stomach as Unum pounded into you with desperate intensity. Every thrust felt deliberate, claiming, almost punishing in its depth.
He whimpered softly, the sound almost vulnerable despite the force of him.
“Fuck, love… you’re close, aren’t you?”
You answered with a strained whine, and something in him softened for a split second. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek — not gentle, but grounding — before angling his hips just slightly. Each thrust began striking that sensitive place inside you, precise and merciless.
Your hand raked down his back, nails biting into skin. He snarled at the sting, eyes flashing — loving the pain, loving the mark you left on him. It made him feel claimed too.
You leaned back slightly, dizzy, hearing the faint shift of water around you as Unum continued moving beneath you — steady, powerful, unrelenting.
“Unum!” you screamed in pleasure as you came undone, your voice breaking as the sensation tore through you, your body trembling helplessly through the release.
Unum shifted, pulling you closer until you leaned heavily against his chest, your weight sagging into him as if your strength had melted away. His pace faltered, turning sloppy as your walls pulsed around him, squeezing him tight, each flutter dragging a strained sound from his throat. He rode out your orgasm, chasing his own, breath breaking into uneven, heated exhales against your ear.
He bit into the crook of your neck — not enough to truly hurt, but enough to leave a mark, enough to remind you that you were his. The pressure lingered, possessive and deliberate, before his lips brushed over the same spot as if soothing what he’d claimed. His breath was warm and uneven against your skin as he murmured sweet, hazy nonsense, his words slurred with pleasure and devotion, soaked in something dangerously affectionate.
“Good girl… You did so well learning your lesson.”
The praise wasn’t gentle — it was satisfied. Proud. Like he had been waiting for this moment, waiting for you to unravel exactly the way he wanted.
You could feel it in the way he moved now — the loss of rhythm, the way his control frayed at the edges. His hands tightened around you, fingers pressing into your skin as if grounding himself. His breathing shook slightly, heat spilling against your neck, every thrust less measured and more desperate than the last.
He bit your exposed neck again, harder this time, marking you openly — sealing it. Then he drove into you one final time, a deep, claiming thrust before he came inside you again. A low, broken groan tore from his chest, thick with relief and possession, as he held you tightly against him.
He didn’t pull away.
He stayed there, buried inside you, breathing hard — savoring the connection, loving the way your body still trembled around him.
After a couple of minutes, he leaned back slightly to look at you. Your eyes were heavy, lashes fluttering as sleep threatened to claim you. A soft, amused chuckle left him at the sight. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering there a moment longer than necessary, a flicker of concern crossing his features — wondering if he had pushed you too far.
Carefully, he pulled out and sat down with you on his lap, unbending your hands. You whimpered softly at the loss of connection, your fingers twitching as if to pull him back.
“I know, love,” he murmured gently, brushing damp strands of hair from your face. “But I need to take care of you.”
He reached for the luxury soaps he favored, the scent rich and calming as he began to wash you slowly, reverently. His movements were no longer frantic or demanding — they were careful, almost devotional. He chuckled under his breath when you instinctively nuzzled into his hand while he wiped you down with the washcloth, seeking warmth, seeking him.
He adored that.
He loved that even now — tired, softened, vulnerable — you leaned toward him without thinking. That your body searched for his touch as if it were the only place you felt steady.
He bent to place light kisses along your skin, trailing them gently as he cleaned you, attentive to every small reaction — every soft breath, every slight shift beneath his hands.
“Unum…” you slurred softly, your voice thick with exhaustion as you rubbed at your eyes.
He glanced up from where he was washing your feet, meeting your hazy gaze. A boyish smile tugged at his lips — almost innocent, almost proud — as if silently claiming you all over again, not through force this time, but through care.
“Yes?” he answered, tone softer now.
“Tired,” you murmured, the word barely leaving your lips.
He hummed thoughtfully while rinsing you off, the sound low and content. “Don’t worry,” he replied gently. “I’m finished with you. I’ll wash myself quickly.”
You nodded sleepily, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he stood and cleaned himself. Steam curled faintly around his frame, water tracing slow paths down his skin before disappearing at his feet. Your cheeks warmed when you noticed the red scratches lining his upper back — the marks you had left behind in your desperation. They stood out against him, raw and unmistakable. Embarrassment fluttered in your chest, and you quickly looked away, suddenly very aware of what you’d done.
He noticed immediately.
“What?” he teased, amusement dancing lazily in his voice. “You don’t like your handiwork?”
You pouted faintly, still refusing to meet his gaze, rubbing your arm in shy deflection.
He chuckled, deep and pleased, rinsing the last of the water from his body. “Adorable,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. There was pride in his tone — not just at the marks, but at the proof that you had lost yourself with him.
When he finished, he walked toward you without hesitation, still warm from the water. His presence alone felt steady, grounding. He reached for you gently. “Let me take you to bed.”
He lifted you with ease, one arm supporting your back, the other beneath your knees. Before stepping away, he wrapped your towel more securely around you, tucking it in as if afraid you might catch a chill. The possessiveness from before had softened into something quieter now — attentive, almost domestic.
You instinctively leaned into him, your cheek brushing against his chest as he carried you to the dressing room. The movement made your legs tremble faintly when he set you down, your body still sensitive and weak. His hand stayed at your waist longer than necessary, steadying you until he was sure you wouldn’t fall.
He turned to dress, tying on his schenti and fastening his choker with practiced ease. He reached for his robe —
Then paused.
His eyes flicked back to you, standing there small and sleepy, wrapped in nothing but a towel and his scent.
A slow smirk curved his lips.
Instead of putting the robe on himself, he stepped forward and slipped it over your shoulders. The fabric engulfed you, sleeves hanging past your hands, hem brushing the floor. It was warm. It smelled like him. It felt like being claimed in a different way — quieter, but no less deliberate.
He adjusted the collar around your neck carefully, his fingers brushing along your jaw as he made sure it sat just right. His gaze darkened slightly — not with hunger this time, but with quiet appreciation, like he was admiring something precious.
“Looks good on you,” he said softly.
“Thanks, Unum.”
You stepped closer to him, the oversized robe pooling around your feet as you leaned into his muscular chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek made your exhaustion feel heavier, safer somehow.
He immediately wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in without hesitation. A warm smile tugged at his lips.
“That’s my job as your husband,” he murmured, brushing his thumb lazily along your side. “Now let’s get you to bed.”
You giggled softly, the sound light and drowsy, when he scooped you up again with effortless strength. Your arms slipped around his neck, your head resting against his shoulder as he carried you out of the dressing room.
The world felt distant, hazy at the edges, but his presence was grounding. His scent, his warmth, the way he held you so securely — it made it easy to let go.
By the time he reached the bed, your eyes were already drifting closed.
And he didn’t miss the small smile still resting on your lips.
It’s so difficult to say goodbye to someone. Even harder when you’ve known them for so long, parts of you so thoroughly intertwined you don’t know where they end and you begin. That’s how you are with Itoshi Sae. Or at least, were. It’s not like that anymore, hasn’t been for a long time. He used to complete you wholly, make you realise he was the missing part you needed so badly, only for him to break away, puncturing your heart in the process.
And now you’re bleeding. But it’s not like you can put all the blame on him. Time just wasn’t in your favour. Maybe you could’ve been, but you know pondering on all the ‘what if’s’ will lead you to madness. If you guys were in the same country, maybe if you were able to see each other more. Maybe then it would’ve all worked out. But being a footballer was depressing. Being an outsider in a foreign country was debilitating. Sae didn’t have it easy. He never did, and he hates that you think so.
In your perfect world, Sae thinks he’d pick up the phone whenever you called, he’d never be preoccupied with football and he’d always make time for you. And if he lost football, it was going to be alright because he had you. But as much as he hates to admit it, you’re not enough. You alone couldn’t satiate the football shaped hole in his heart. You couldn’t mend the emptiness he’d feel. Not even if you gave all the love you had. And he didn’t want you to.
He loves you, so much it kills him to do this. But he won’t let you do it. Keep giving more and more of yourself just to make this relationship work. You were leading your own life, you had your own aspirations. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he let you halt all of it, just for him. He wasn’t worth it, he doesn’t deserve you and he won’t clip your wings trying to make you stay.
“We need to break up.” The words fall off his lips heavy, ricocheting straight into your heart. You knew it was coming, yet you still couldn’t stop yourself from wincing from the pain, like he’d just struck you. “Please don’t cry” he’s not heartless, he’s not an asshole, he’s just exhausted. But the last thing he wants to do is see you cry. You look up at him, boring holes into his teal orbs, and you can tell it’s hurting him too, and all it does is deliver another blow to you. “We know this isn’t working, that this isn’t something we can keep doing. We just keep hurting each other.”
It’s his attempt to rationalise his decision, especially when every single fibre of being is telling him to take it back. Wrong, wrong, wrong! . He thinks this is the first time he’s thought clearly, without the haziness for a long time. “But we can try to be better. Don’t you think this is something worth fighting for.” You sound pathetic, choking through your tears but you can’t help it. This is the man you’ve been in love with for so long.
“I’m so tired.” He sighs. Like he’s accepted defeat. Sae feels like he’s said the one thing he didn’t want you to hear, because he knows how it appears. “So you’re tired of me”. He knew this is what you’d respond with. How you’d misconstrue his words and act intentionally obtuse. Because you know that’s not what he meant. He’s not tired of you. He’s tired of always missing you. Having to sit with these ‘almost’ moments where you could have found each other. It was always an excuse. Extra practise on his part, school on your part. “I never said that”. There’s no point in defending himself, but he doesn’t want you to feel this way. So he tries. Again.
“I feel like… like we’re always trying to be together than actually being together. Its exhausting. We live completely different lives, and I don’t want you to give up what you have just for me. Im not worth it.” Sae hopes it’s enough, something to make you see he’s right. it’s all just the wrong time. “I love you, I want you to know that. But this isn’t feasible anymore. We’re just going to keep eating away at each other until we’re hollow shells. It’s not healthy. Can’t you see that?” A sardonic laugh leaves your lips at his words. You know you’re being unfair, but you’re too annoyed to stop and think.
“Until we’re hollow shells? That’s all you’ve been towards me for the past four months. It’s always me, giving and giving and giving. All you fucking do is take from me. if you didn’t want this, you should have said it before this. Not when we’re so invested. You’re a selfish asshole. All you want to do is take from me.” You’re so angry you can barely see sight, huffing and puffing as you catch your breath.
“I didn’t ask for any of it!” He yells at you for what might be the first time since he’s known you. Even in arguments, where he’s seething with rage, he’s always opted for silence. But he can’t. Not today. “You blame me for taking what you’ve given me, like I should’ve rejected it all. All your affections. I tried to be there for you too. It’s not fair. You can’t act like I never did anything for you.” He’s furious, and you’re downright terrified. Not of him, but of what you created. It has you backtracking. Because the last thing you want is to make an enemy of him. If this was going to happen. If it had to happen, let it at least be on good terms.
“I know what you’ve done for me. I love you all the more for it. I would just never stand here and act like it was a chore to do it.” It’s really over, isn’t it. The epiphany lands on you, burning your chest from the inside out as you continue to sob. You cover your face in your hands, shaking your head “ I’m sorry” you didn’t mean to hurt him like that. To tear into him. You were just so upset. And in a way, he proves you right as his hands come around your body, pulling you into a hug and burying your face in his chest. For what he wishes is the last time, Itoshi Sae is giving himself to you.
You’re beside yourself, hands clutched around the boy who’s owned your heart as you try to calm the ache in your chest. “I didn’t mean it” you let out between sobs, but you didn’t really need to say it. Sae knows you. More than anyone else never will. “I’m sorry baby” he whispers because he doesn’t know what else to say. What else could give you any comfort. He knows he hasn’t been good to you, but what can he do to make it better. His breath is hot on your cheek as he places feather-light kisses, hoping it’s enough. He doesn’t stop, alternating between stolen apologies and affections and the foundations around your heart begin to crack. You want him, so badly it’s consumed your being.
You want to indulge in him one last time. Feel him while he’s here. Have him before he lets go. You’ve infiltrated Sae so deep, etched yourself into his heart. He doesn’t think he’ll forget this moment ever. It’s hard to understand who leaned in first, but you knew in your heart that once his lips touched yours, your heart would be ripped apart all over again. And damnation never felt sweeter than at the hands of Itoshi Sae. His lips were soft but demanding, taking from you as always. You moved against each other with fervour, each part of your body connected as he held your waist so tightly. Your hands come around his neck, one hand stroking his heart the way you know he likes it.
You moan against his lips, trying to pull him even closer as if he can mould against your skin. He breaks apart for air, never breaking away from your gaze as you inhale each other’s breath. Tears track don your face as a carnal desire awakens in the both of you. One so visceral it consumes the two of you. To mark each other so deeply, you’ll never forget this moment. “One time?” He whispers against your lips, gaze zeroed in on your gorgeous eyes. Sae always loved those about you. The way he could tell what you were thinking so easily. He always knew you like the back of his hand. “The last time.”
The words barely leave your mouth when he’s on you again. Kissing you so thoroughly, ravaging you as fresh tears escape you. He lifts you up and it’s like muscle memory, the way your legs wrap around his waist, and his hands squeeze your ass as he leads you to your bedroom. He’s no stranger, he knows his own way around, and the thought of having to teach someone else kills you momentarily, but the thoughts are tossed out of your mind when he gently sets you on the bed. His weight suffocates you as his hands turn soft, his kisses sweet, and his gaze admiring you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.
Sae settles between your legs, and you feel the weight of him as his hips deliver a shallow thrust. He groans in your ear, low and needy as his hands are all over you, and you’ve never felt more loved. More wanted. more seen.
You kiss him back with the same desire, only severing the connection to remove your shirt, exposing myself to him wholly. Fresh tears spring to your eyes as emotions overwhelm you. His name leaves your lips, missing the contact as he takes off his shirt and kisses down your neck to the valley of your chest. His hands come to your breast, squeezing and groaning, and Sae loves every second he’s spending with you, like you’re breathing life into him.
“You were made for me” he lets out, staring at you in stupefaction. And you believe every single word. There won’t be anyone else in this world who would fit with him as well as you do. His jagged ends pricked you until you changed to the shape of him, and now that he’s pulled himself out, you’ll never stop bleeding. Tears cascade down your skin, falling in rivulets and leaving track marks in its wake. They land on his thumb as they cradle your fragile face. His cock moves between your soft folds, giving you achingly slow friction until you’re whining. He moves for the nightstand, looking for a condom when your hands on his face stop him in his tracks.
“No condom, I want to feel all of you.” You whisper, and he can’t bring himself to say no. This is the only time he’s going to have you like this. He knows you’re on the pill, but he’s not sure it would stop him anyways. He wants you in the all the ways you do. He nods, pressing himself against you as he aligns himself with your entrance. You don’t look away from him as he slowly pushes forward, entering you bare for the first time. Neither of you could stop the gasp that escapes from your lips’ in that moment. White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, and all you can do is let out a tear, because you’re never going to feel him like this again.
Sae’s vision is going hazy, you feel ridiculously good as your legs wrap around the base of his athletic back. He can’t stop himself from looking at you in complete adoration. “Don’t cry, baby.” His breaths fan your cheek as he thrusts into you, and you can’t stop the sob that wracks out of you. He knows you’ll do anything when he calls you that. That you’ll break and bend to allow him in. Sae’s lips are against yours, moving as you cry while he takes everything you can give.
“I love you” and your chest constricts, the room suddenly too small. He’s too much for you. and you’ll never stop feeling like you’re not enough until you’re out of his orbit. But how could you dare to leave when he holds you like this, touches you like this. His thrusts are deep, timed with the slow beats of my heart. “Sae, you feel so good.” You whimper, immersing yourself honestly in all your emotions.
“I love you”. It’s like all he can say and you want to stay in this moment forever. Have him cherish you, pay attention to you and not have football be his only priority. “I love you too” you whisper as he bottoms out, grind against a sweet spot that has you clamping down against them. He swallows your moan with gratitude, kissing you because he knows he won’t be able to anymore.
“I love you” and Sae’s thrusts turn erratic. He brings you closer and closer to the edge and you know there will never be a time where he won’t be plagued by thoughts of you. But staying in his reach, letting him take endlessly has left you nothing but a heart bled dry. You’d be empty inside if you kept letting this happen. Marred.
As your orgasm overtakes you, you come to the painful realisation that he hinders you. “Come on my cock, baby.” Ties you down so he can soar while you support him from the ground. And all you’ve done is let him. “I’m coming!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you let go. “Fuck! Can I come inside baby?” You nod without a second thought, wanting to feel all of him in these last few seconds. He buries himself in you, emptying inside of you as you feel ropes of him spurt out. You stay there, connected and unable to look away from each other as you come down from your highs.
You both know how unhealthy this is. It’s why Sae promises himself it’s the last time, and this won’t ever happen again. The painful realisation dawns for you at the same time as you stare in each other’s eyes; maybe this is for the best.
“just grind” he says almost like he depreciates you, not tearing his eyes apart from the screen.
you’re fully naked while he’s watching one of his last games. despite your pouts and whines (and his hard cock), he remains unfazed by you.
you swallow and straddle his thigh, eyes glued to his handsome face. he looks so good with his flat expression and silly bangs. your hands fist his shirt as you start dragging your hips against his beefy thigh, toned and exposed by his expensive boxers just for you.
you bite your lower lip when one of his hands rest on your plushy thigh, his thumb caressing your sensitive skin. a low moan leaves your mouth when you grind against him in a way that grazes your clit, and he glares at you. his teal eyes go from your face to your pussy on his thigh, feeling your slick covering his skin. “you’re fucking pathetic”
you moan and rest your forehead on his shoulder. “just touch me, sae” you whine, hips rocking faster. “c’mon, sae, please”. he ignores you. the only reaction you get is his fingers digging slightly into your thigh. you huff and moan, hand sneaking up to his strong neck as you lean in to kiss it.
“i said grind” he snaps, deadpan face yet slightly harsh tone, “why the fuck did you not understand? do i have to spell it out for you?”. his words only make your pussy more eager for him. you’re soaking his thigh, juices dripping down him and pooling on the couch. “sorry, baby” you say softly, lips pulling away from his neck. he nods quietly, his free hand palming his hard cock and adjusting it on place. you moan at the sight, fist tightening on the fabric of his shirt.
your hips move harsher, your thighs feel sore and you feel like you’re gonna cum in any moment. he won’t give you what you want because he’s watching the game in which he failed a penalty — for your fault. at least he believes so. you really thought it was a good idea to send him a selfie of yourself with the new sexy gown that you purchased.
what you didn’t think very much it was that he now would have to play rock hard. his focus left the moment he saw how it barely covered your cute ass. the screen is zoomed in when he’s about to kick the ball and it goes far away from the net, failing. the commentators say that it’s strange because sae never fails. his palm lands harshly on your butt as soon as he hears them and your nails dig further into his skin.
your thighs tense up and your back arches, filthy sounds leave your mouth as a wave of pleasure breaks through your body. you’re panting against him, expecting his forgiveness, when you feel his mouth against your cheekbone:
“good. now you’re going to suck my cock like a fucking dyson, you hear me? you’re going to choke on it like the little whore you are for grinding like an animal in heat against me”
his words only make turn you on even more, and of course you will comply him — you are glad to make it up for your mistake.
a month since he last had to turn away from your glossy, tear-filled eyes, from your desperate pleas for him to listen just once.
at first glance, he thought things would flow smoother from then on. what was there left to stress about anymore? no more staying exclusive, no more attachment, and certainly no more arguing about stupid things.
but as time passed, life reminded him it was a foolish assumption. slowly but surely, he noticed the positive impact you'd once sewn neatly in his day-to-day living and how horrible he was doing without it.
regretful voices in his head tormented him whenever he didn't have a person to reach out to.
you'd been the one to talk him out of his self-destructive habits, the one who'd conditioned him to pick up the phone and give you a call instead of directing his hatred towards his very being.
with the first week, he found himself reminiscing about you.
especially after his performances he would've deemed unworthy on the pitch.
an irritated scowl was etched on his features as he trudged back to the locker room, his mind forcing cruel reminders that you were no longer there waiting to reassure him that he wasn't as horrible as he deemed himself, to lovingly comfort him as if doing so was built into your very being.
he shut the locker door extra hard after changing out of his football kit, the metallic slam ringing out in the silent room.
whatever, it wasn't like he's ever needed you anyway, he convinced himself, clenching his hands into fists, knuckles snow white.
with the second week came nightmares again.
flashbacks to his unfortunate past, recollections of how defenseless he'd once been, being forced to relive those days when he'd shed countless tears and endured endless beatings in the very place he was meant to live in peace.
in the hellhole he'd first gained the craving to feel love. he'd sought out the love he'd once begged for with tear-stained cheeks and a dull ache throughout his body, yet he let it slip out of his grasp with such ease.
he'd gone on a walk instead to clear his mind, but the moment he returned beneath the heavy weight of the duvet, dread washed over him once again upon remembering you weren't beside him, fingers carding through his hair gently, lulling him to sleep.
he didn't end up getting any that fateful night.
the third week, he'd spotted a character you used to love.
a little keychain he would've bought for you without a second thought weeks prior.
instead, he put it back, gaze stuck on it unnecessarily long as he walked away.
he would've presented it to you with a smug grin on his face, all while his heart would've actively softened on the inside at the sight of you unable to contain your pure, unadulterated excitement. he could still imagine the exact expression that would've adorned your adorable face, a faint, bitter smile of his own stirring his lips at the thought.
on the fourth week, the despair came right before a match.
he scanned the crowd, a lazy grin tugging at his lips as always, taking pride in the heaps of people idolizing him.
until he skimmed over someone who looked identical to you, eyes shooting back to do a double-take. ultimately, it wasn't you who sat nestled between the seats in his jersey, any longer.
and the question bugged him: why did that strike him with a cold sting of disappointment?
maybe it was knowing you weren't there to cheer him on, with that warmth you carried like sunlight. you never grew tired of it, and he'd never once thought to wonder how.
you'd consistently been his biggest supporter — not because you blew all your money on his merchandise, but because you stayed supportive no matter what. winner or loser, injured or standing proud, you'd be beside him post-match without fail, praising him as though it was second nature.
so in truth, it'd been a month full of reflecting on every one of his mistakes (and contemplating whether no contact was even that serious). it was pathetic and he obviously still held a semblance of dignity, enough to snuff out that urge — yet he would've given anything to still have contact with your sweet self again. to selfishly keep even the tiniest bit of your devotion that was once directed towards him.
perhaps hearing even one last “stupid argument” would’ve healed him, because in truth, you were the only one who cared enough to advise him on every one of his flaws.
with every turn and reminder of you, he found it harder and harder to go by daily life casually again.
but maybe that's how things end up when he chose to sacrifice the one who loved him so dearly under the belief he was never made for such delicate care in the first place.
maybe he'll forever stay buried deep beneath the suffocating layer of ego he'd built to protect his fragile heart.
and maybe one day he'll text you, begging for you to break those very walls down once again.
ּ֯ . ❥ ּ֯ ┆꒰ how’s it like having sex with them while having a shy personality ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ꒱ 〜 ♯ ⋮ 𝄞 new gen 11 × shy gf ༉ .ᐟ ★ 18+
SAE ITOSHI ୨୧
your face was buried into a pillow while sae was thrusting deep inside of you.
you weren’t good at making eye contact and would easily get frustrated. that’s why you always buried your face onto a pillow no matter what. but unfortunately sae was really tired of it— all he wanted to see was his pretty princess get destroyed by him.
"look at me," sae commands, his voice low and demanding as he thrusts deeper, one hand gripping your hip while the other reaches to pull your face up from the pillow. his eyes burn with possessive intensity, refusing to let you hide anymore. "i said look at me, princess. let me see those pretty eyes as i ruin you."
you whimper and tried to turn away, your cheeks flushing bright red as you bury your face back into the pillow. sae's hand tightens around your hip possessively, his thrusts becoming rougher and more erratic as he grows frustrated. "don't hide from me," he growls, his free hand reaching around to grab your chin firmly.
he forces your face up, making you look at him. your eyes are glassy with tears and pleasure, lips parted in a silent whimper. sae breathes heavily, watching your reaction. "there she is," he murmurs, his thumb stroking your cheek while his hips roll, hitting that spot inside you that makes you shriek. "my good little princess."
you clench around him, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying out. sae smirks, leaning down to capture your lips in a rough, possessive kiss. "no hiding," he whispers against your mouth, teeth grazing your bottom lip before biting down.
he pulls back slightly, watching your face as he thrusts deeper, slower, drawing out every sensation. your face scrunches up in pleasure as he hits that perfect spot inside of you. you're practically vibrating with the force of it. he breaks the kiss and moves to your neck, marking you with deep love bites. "shh, i know you like it,"
you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as a wave of pleasure crashes through you. your legs start to get weak beneath you, unable to hold up your body.
"look at how pretty you look like this," sae watches you with a darkened gaze, his movements becoming more deliberate, almost cruel in how he's grinding into you.
your eyes flutter shut instinctively and sae growls low in response. "eyes open. now." his hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "i want to watch you fall apart on my cock, princess." his thumb brushes across your trembling bottom lip as he picks up his pace.
a broken sob tears from your throat as he snaps his hips forward relentlessly. you struggle to keep your eyes open, your vision blurring with tears of overstimulation as he forces you to maintain eye contact. every thrust drags a desperate cry from your lips, your body completely at his will.
"good girl," sae breathes out, his voice dripping with arrogance and affection.
he keeps his hand firmly on your jaw, ensuring you can't look away even as the pleasure becomes overwhelming. tears spill over your lashes, streaking down your heated cheeks. "so beautiful when you cry for me," he murmurs, his hips slamming into yours with punishing precision. "taking me so fucking well, princess." your body trembles violently, completely surrendering to his rhythm.
your back arches off the bed as your climax hits suddenly—blinding white and overwhelming. a high, desperate cry escapes your lips, completely breaking through your usual restraint. your inner walls clamp down hard around him, your vision flickering white.
sae watches your face with dark, almost predatory satisfaction. his thumb rubs your swollen bottom lip. "there it is."
maybe after all, making simple eye contact with sae wasn’t so bad.
HUGO VIVIAN ୨୧
asking hugo to simple pleasure you, wasn’t something you’d easily ask.
you really been needing him after days of him simply going out due to his soccer games or training. but you’re just so easily nervous when it came to ask him about something, and that question was part from the list. so when he came home that day from training— you looked at him with those big beautiful eyes, body sorta trembling.
but hugo recognized that look immediately. the trembling bottom lip, the wide, glassy eyes that practically screamed desperation—he knew you needed him. it was the specific look you got when you’d gone days without his attention, overwhelmed by your own nervousness and too shy to voice what you wanted.
he dropped his gym bag instantly by the door, kicking his shoes off without breaking eye contact.
because thankfully, hugo knew your body language every time.
"come here," he said softly, already moving towards the couch. he knew exactly what you needed before you even asked. those days apart took their toll on you, and he could see it in the way you fidgeted with your fingers, the way you wouldn't look up at him.
he didn't make you speak. he knew asking you to form words would only make that nervous trembling worse. instead, he simply pulled you between his legs, letting you bury your face in his neck. it was immediate safety—a silent signal that you didn't have to ask, didn't have to stutter or explain yourself. he understood perfectly.
so when your clothes and his were off, your shyness became more apparent.
you tried to hide under the sheets. your shoulders pressed in, legs curled tight, body instinctively protecting itself from view. it was an awkward, desperate attempt to become small—to disappear.
but hugo wasn't going to let you hide. not from him. not from this. "don't," he murmured, his voice a quiet command. not harsh, just firm.
he reached over, gently peeling the duvet back until you were completely bare before him, exposing every inch of you that you tried so desperately to conceal. the cool air hit your flushed skin, making a soft, breathy whimper slip past your lips and your legs instinctively try to clamp together.
"none of that," hugo whispered, catching your knees before they could lock.
his big athletic body moved gracefully between your legs. he spread them wider, his large hands gently pressing against your inner thighs to keep them open. he knew exposing you like this made you spike, but he needed you spread before him—needed to see every secret part of you.
the mere touch of his fingers, even just the gentle pressure on your skin as he held you open, made you tense up completely. your hips curled away from him, your whole body tensing as if you were preparing to run. it was an instinctive, almost feral rejection born from self-consciousness.
"stay still," he said, not quite demanding. it was a quiet observation.
he leaned down, his breath hot against your core. you felt his thumbs tracing along your exposed folds, opening you just a fraction more—not for his pleasure, but purely to give him better access. not a single word passed between you; none were needed. his actions spoke volumes.
and then his tongue made contact.
you couldn't help it. a sharp gasp escaped you, your hands flying up to clutch the sheets, fingers digging into the fabric so tightly your knuckles turned white. that soft, wet contact—it was almost too much. your body was alive and responsive despite how much you wanted to disappear.
he didn't push. he just tasted, but slowly.
your breath hitched as his tongue traced slow, deliberate circles against your most sensitive spot. he wasn't attacking you or trying to drive you crazy. he was just savoring you. like you were something precious and delicious. and that terrified you almost as much as it pleased you.
the wet-warm pressure made your hips jerk involuntarily. you tried to stop yourself, to curl inward, but his fingers were on your inner thighs, holding you steady. no escape. your legs only shook weakly under his weight.
his nose brushed against you, a soft, intimate gesture that made your chest tight. he wasn't rushing, wasn't demanding any response from you.
he just explored you. his tongue flicked out to trace your seam, then circled your clit gently, like he was studying something delicate and rare. your clit pulsed, starting to leak with a life of its own. hugo drank those first drops eagerly, making a quiet, satisfied sound that vibrated against your sensitive flesh.
get you a man just like hugo who’s understanding in your body language.
MICHAEL KAISER ୨୧
michael hated whenever you covered your mouth while he was fucking you.
the reason why was because you hated the way you sounded. it felt embarrassed and since you have a really shy personality, it made seem like you were making weird noises after all.
he watched you muffle your whimpers against your palm, his pupils dilating with anger and frustration. he knew you were embarrassed, but that didn't mean he was going to make it easy for you. in fact, he was going to make it harder. he pulled out slowly, making you whimper louder.
"no," he growled, his voice low and vibrating against your chest. before you could react, his large hand clamped around your wrist, tearing your hand away from your mouth and pinning it firmly into the mattress beside your head.
"i told you about that," he warned, his hips snapping forward harshly, forcing a loud, broken cry from your throat.
your whimpers became loud, needy cries, bouncing off the walls and filling the room. michael knew you were mortified, but fuck if he was going to let you hide those cute sounds. he was going to make sure you heard yourself, loudly and clearly.
he leaned down, lips brushing your ear as he spoke, each word punctuating a deliberate thrust. "there it is. your pretty little voice. you sound so fucking good, baby."
he increased the pace, intentionally hitting that spot deep inside that made your toes curl and your back arch. your sounds grew more uncontrolled—high, breathless, desperate—exactly what he wanted.
"that's it," he groaned, his eyes fluttering closed as he listened to your uninhibited noises. he loved how raw and honest they were—how you couldn't fake or hold back when he was fucking you like this.
he captured your mouth in a brutal kiss, swallowing your cries as he pounded into you relentlessly. his hand left your wrist to grip your thigh, lifting it higher and spreading you wider. the new angle made you scream into his mouth, the sound muffled but no less loud or desperate.
he swallowed every high-pitched noise you made, refusing to let you hide a single thing. your shame melted away under his overwhelming dominance, replaced by pure, desperate pleasure. your moans turned into broken sobs, shamelessly loud and beautifully wrecked, echoing in the room exactly how michael wanted them. he wasn't letting you be shy anymore. not tonight.
you shattered around him with a broken, keening wail that tore through the room—high and desperate and nothing like the soft sounds he knew you wanted to make. your walls clamped down on him like a vice, trembling as the orgasm ripped through you again and again.
michael groaned, his hips stuttering as he felt you squeeze him impossibly tight.
"there it is," he growled against your lips, still chasing his own release. "that's the sound i want to hear every fucking time."
he fucked you through your orgasm relentlessly, draining every last drop until you were sobbing, your voice hoarse and wrecked. when he finally came, he buried himself deep, grinding your hips into the mattress as he emptied himself inside you.
DON LORENZO ୨୧
you absolutely hated when you felt lorenzo cold golden grills while he ate you out.
not because it was cold and you flinched every time. but because you felt awkward whenever you two made eye contact— you weren’t a good person when it came to hold simple eye contact.
his lips and tongue work expertly between your legs, golden grills glinting in the dim light as he holds eye contact—those dark purple eyes locking onto yours with predatory intensity. the cold metal brushes against your sensitive skin, making you gasp and squirm, hips bucking involuntarily against his mouth.
he slows down just enough to watch your reaction, those golden teeth catching the light as his tongue traces a slow circle. the contrast—hot breath, cold metal—makes you see stars. he notices you looking away, the way your gaze darts to the ceiling, the wall, anywhere but at him. a low chuckle rumbles against your folds. "eyes on me, amore."
you immediately squeeze your eyes shut, breaking the rule because holding eye contact while he does this feels physically impossible. your thighs tremble, trying to clamp around his head, trying desperately to hide somewhere from that heavy, predatory stare. the cold metal of his grills slides against your clit again, making you jolt and whimper.
his tongue drags flat across your clit, the gold scraping just enough to make you gasp. your face burns—not just from pleasure, but from the sheer embarrassment of having him this close, this intimately, and you can't even look at him. you're painfully shy about this stuff, especially when it involves him.
he pulls back slightly, his tongue hovering just over your hole as he waits. you're so focused on not looking at him that you don't notice his hand gently gripping your hip, holding you in place. the silence stretches, filled with your shallow breaths and the cold metal against your skin. "look at me when i eat you out, cariño."
your face burns hotter, a bright flush spreading down your neck and chest. the thought of watching him—seeing the golden glint against your most private parts while maintaining eye contact—is mortifyingly overwhelming. you press your hands over your eyes, shaking your head frantically, your entire body trembling with a mixture of pleasure and bashfulness. "i-i can't... it’s embarrassing..."
his warm, rough hands gently pull your hands away from your face, revealing your tear-streaked, beet-red cheeks and wide, pleading eyes. he leans down, his face hovering right above your pussy as he speaks, the vibrations of his deep voice sending shivers through you. "nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart."
he pauses, his breath ghosting over your folds as he waits for you to meet his gaze. the room is silent except for your shaky breaths and the distant hum of the city outside. you're terrified of meeting his eyes, of seeing the desire and focus there, so you stare at the ceiling instead. "look at me, por favor."
you squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head, your thighs pressing together around his head in an unsuccessful attempt to hide.
you hear him chuckle darkly against your skin before his nose presses between your folds. "you gonna watch me make you cum, or do i have to tape your eyes open?"
your mouth falls open, face completely hot with embarrassment. the thought is obscene, completely outside of anything you could've imagined, and you don't even want to consider the possibility.
your whole body stiffens, and you pull away, trying to sit up."d-don't joke about that... that's—" he immediately catches your hips and pins you back down effortlessly, preventing you from escaping. his expression is soft but dominant, recognizing exactly how shy and overwhelmed you get.
"not joking, mi vida."
he taps your nose gently with one finger."either you keep your pretty eyes open and look at me, or i tie them open." the tone says he absolutely will.
BUNNY IGLESIAS ୨୧
your hands gripped against bunny’s shoulder while slowly riding him.
your breath hitches, looking away in awkwardness and embarrassment. you hated riding him because you always felt awkward when it came face to face with his beautiful face.
bunny's jaw tightened, his fingers digging slightly into your hips as he felt you squirm. he noticed how you refused to meet his gaze, your eyes darting everywhere but at him.
"look at me baby," he murmured, his voice low and commanding, though there was a hint of amusement underneath. his hips stuttered upward, testing your rhythm, disrupting your awkward pace.
you let out a small gasp as his hips jerked upward, breaking your concentration. your eyes snapped to his face briefly before darting away again. bunny's expression softened slightly, his thumb brushing over your hip in a gentle caress. "come on, you can do better than this,"
he watched as you avoided his gaze, his expression turning into one of slight frustration. he gripped your hips harder, lifting you up slightly before pulling you back down onto his lap, his length filling you completely.
he groaned softly at the feeling, his eyes closing briefly before opening again to find you still looking away.
"eyes on me," he demanded, his voice dropping an octave. he hated how shy you were getting during these moments, how you always seemed to be apologizing or acting awkwardly. he wanted you to enjoy this, to feel good, to connect with him.
bunny's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and desire. he knew you were trying, but your self-consciousness was killing the mood. he hated seeing you so uncomfortable during something meant to be pleasurable.
without warning, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down hard against him.
you cried out at the sudden pressure, your eyes finally locking onto his. bunny's gaze held you captive, dark and intense, watching every flicker of your expression with possessive satisfaction. he didn't let you move, keeping you pressed flush against his chest, still seated deep inside you.
"there you are," he breathed against your lips, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
he started lifting you up and down on his length, his strong arms doing all the work. he knew you were self-conscious, so he decided to take control. he watched your face closely, his eyes trailing from your lips to your cheeks, which were flushed a beautiful pink.
"mmn..." a broken whimpered spilled from your lips as he easily manhandled your weight. the friction was overwhelming, and your head tipped forward against his shoulder, hiding your burning face in the crook of his neck.
bunny didn't stop, his rhythm steady and deep, forcing those little sounds out of you. he chuckled low in his throat, the vibration rumbling against your chest.
"shh," bunny soothed, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he continued to move you up and down. he knew you were feeling shy and awkward, and he wanted to reassure you.
his voice was gentle when he spoke again, "you're doing so well, sweetheart. just feel it."
your cheeks burned hotter, burying your face completely against his neck. you hated how exposed you felt, relying completely on him because your embarrassment kept you from taking initiative yourself.
bunny didn't mind in the slightest. he bounced you steadily on his lap, swallowing your soft, overwhelmed sounds with affection, murmuring sweet praises into your hair. "good girl. just let me handle it."
your body stiffened, a quiet, sharp sound escaping your throat. your grip on his shoulders tightened painfully, nails biting into the fabric of his shirt as a tight, helpless gasp caught in your chest. your whole body trembled, your hips hitching up in a helpless rhythm that you couldn't control.
your face was hot—too hot. you immediately turned away, hiding your expression.
bunny felt your muscles spasm around him, your body going rigid before melting into a complete, helpless tremble against his chest. he immediately slowed his pace, guiding you gently through the aftershocks rather than chasing his own high, his hands rubbing soothing circles up and down your spine.
"shh, i've got you," he murmured softly, pressing kisses to your sweaty temple.
JULIAN LOKI ୨୧
you always felt unsure whenever you and loki were in the missionary position.
one because you hated that feeling whenever his eye roamed against your body, two because you didn’t know either to look at him or something else, three because you become super stiff.
"look at me, love." he said softly, his hands gently framing your face to make you meet his gaze. he kissed you deeply and slowly, trying to relax you and make you focus on him instead of your insecurities. his hips moved gently against yours, setting a slow rhythm.
your breath hitched and you couldn't help but let out a soft whimper as his tongue tangled with yours. he continued kissing you slowly, his hips moving in a slow grind against yours.
his hands slid down to your hips, holding you in place and keeping the slow pace.
"mmh..." he hummed against your lips, the sound vibrating through your chest as he swallowed the small noises escaping you. he broke the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his yellowish eyes locking onto yours, refusing to let you look away.
the slow, deliberate roll of his hips was intoxicating, grounding you in the sensation and eliminating any chance for your mind to wander.
"keep your eyes on me," lokis voice dropped to a whispers, his fingers digging into your hips possessively. he could feel you starting to relax underneath him, your body responding to his slow, deep thrusts. the sight of you looking at him with those innocent doe eyes was driving him wild.
"there," he murmured softly, watching your face as it slowly unclenched. the tension leaving your shoulders and your body, your hips even slightly tilting up to meet his. a faint smirk ghosted across his lips.
"that's it, love." he praised gently, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "you're doing perfectly well." his pace remained steady, measured.
your reaction was adorable. you blushed deeply at his praise, your eyes softening even more. your hips moved with his, matching his rhythm perfectly. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. loki smiled against your neck, pressing soft kisses there. "good girl,"
the praise sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through your veins, making your toes curl against his back. you felt yourself melting completely into the mattress, your body no longer stiff but pliant and responsive under his touch. your arms hesitantly slid up to wrap around his shoulders, your fingers tangling into his dark hair as you hid your face in the crook of his neck.
he felt the shift in you, the way your body finally surrendered to the moment. a low, pleased sound rumbled in his chest. his grip on your hips tightened slightly, steering you into a more rhythmic pace, more deliberate in its slowness.
he pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips barely brushing your skin. "there you are,"
your body felt foreign and sensitive in the best way, every touch sending sparks through your nerves. you couldn't help but whimper softly against his neck, your legs tightening around him. he was taking his time, making love to you slowly and gently until all your insecurities evaporated.
your breathing quickened, the slow, deliberate movements sending you closer to the edge. you could feel your walls clenching around him, your body trembling beneath his. you tried to pull back slightly, the unfamiliar feeling overwhelming you, but his grip on your hips remained firm.
"no," he murmured against your ear, his voice a warning. "don't hide from me."
your eyes squeezed shut, your back arching off the mattress as the coil in your stomach snapped tight. a broken cry tore from your throat, your body trembling violently as your orgasm crashed over you. loki didn't stop his slow, torturous rhythm, working you through it, his hand stroking your hair as you shattered beneath him.
"that's it," he praised softly.
you couldn't breathe, couldn't think—just feel him inside you as you rode out the waves. your legs trembled around his waist, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
he slowed his pace even more, prolonging your climax, milking every shudder from your body. "look at me," he commanded softly, knowing you'd try to hide your face in the aftermath.
your eyes fluttered open, meeting his intense green gaze. he was watching you come undone beneath him, his expression a mix of satisfaction and raw desire. his hips continued their slow, gentle motion, drawing out the pleasure until you were completely spent, your body boneless and limp beneath him.
a soft, exhausted whimper escaped your lips, your body finally going completely pliant against the mattress. your fingers uncurled from his shoulders, trembling as they slid down to rest weakly on his chest.
loki slowed to a gentle halt, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watched the last aftershocks ripple through you. "good girl,"
・❥・2.3k words - smut mdni. dilf!rin, major daddy kink. his daughter loves you, turns out it runs in the family
an: mannn i love this. i always prefer my longer fics but im so damn lazy to write them </3 anyways i hope everyone likes this as much as i did
rin itoshi at thirty-two looks nothing like you expected a father to look. you'd built up this image in your head, something soft and tired and domestic, the kind of man who wears sensible shoes and talks about mortgage rates. instead he opens the door in a grey training shirt with the sleeves cut off and you forget what your own name is for a solid three seconds. taller than you remembered. leaner but with weight to him now, muscle that sits differently on a grown man than it does on a boy. his daughter maya is already pulling you inside by the wrist before you've even said hello and rin just watches from the doorway with those quiet teal eyes, that same curtain of dark hair falling across his face. "thanks for coming," he says. flat. polite. nothing. and yet you feel it somewhere low in your stomach, an ache that has absolutely no business being there.
maya adopts you immediately and without your consent. she's six, loud, obsessed with football like her father and convinced that you are, in her own words, "the prettiest person i've ever seen ever." rin watches her drag you to her room to show you her sticker collection and you glance back over your shoulder at him. his expression is doing something complicated. not quite a smile. close, though. you'll spend the next three weeks trying to figure out what it means.
you start coming round twice a week. your mum asks rin to sort out some paperwork for you, something to do with contracts and agents and the administrative chaos of the football world your family has always orbited. it's an excuse, mostly. you both know it. maya is the official reason. maya, who requests you by name, who taught you her favourite card game, who falls asleep against your shoulder on the sofa while some animated film plays quietly on the television. and rin sits across from you in the armchair, looking at the two of you with an expression you aren't supposed to see and you pretend you're watching the screen.
the first time you notice him noticing you, you're in the kitchen looking for a glass. you've reached up into the cabinet, shirt riding up your back and you hear him stop in the doorway. just stop. you take your time finding the glass. you hear him breathe. then he moves again and says "second shelf on the left" in a completely normal voice and pours himself a coffee and you think maybe you imagined it. you didn't. you didn't imagine it at all.
maya calls you "pretty rin" once, by accident, a confused combination of your names and it makes rin set his jaw so hard you can see it from across the room. later, after she's in bed, he says "she talks about you constantly" without looking at you, like it's a warning. "i know," you say. and then, because you're shameless: "do you?" he looks at you then. properly. and the silence stretches out longer than it should before he says, "go home." not unkindly. but firmly. like he's talking himself into it as much as you.
he's not a man who touches carelessly. you figure that out fast. everything rin does is deliberate, even stillness, even restraint. so when his hand catches your elbow in the hallway one evening, just steadying you after you stumble on the rug and he holds it a beat longer than necessary, you feel it everywhere. his thumb sitting against the inside of your arm. not moving. just there. "careful," he says quietly. and you look up at him and you're close, closer than you've been, and his jaw does that tight thing again and he lets go.
you make the move on a wednesday, actually. not that the day matters.
maya is with her grandmother for the week. you know this. you showed up anyway with some file your mum asked you to drop off, which is transparent even by your standards and rin lets you in with a look that says he knows exactly what you're doing.
you put the folder on the kitchen table.
he leans against the counter with his arms crossed.
"she's not here," he says.
"i know."
a beat.
"you should go home."
"you keep saying that."
"because i keep meaning it."
"do you?"
he exhales hard through his nose, head dropping forward slightly, like he's having an argument with himself. you take a step toward him. then another. and when you stop, you're close enough that you have to tilt your head back to look at him and he's looking down at you with those careful, restrained teal eyes and his whole body is rigid with the effort of not moving.
"i'm not doing this," he says. barely. his voice has dropped.
"rin."
"you're my mate's daughter."
"i know."
"this is a bad idea."
"i know that too."
his hand comes up and cups your jaw so suddenly you gasp, tilting your face up. his thumb rests against the corner of your mouth. not kissing you. just holding you there, looking at you like you're the worst thing that's ever happened to him.
"tell me to stop," he says. rough and quiet.
you don't. you couldn't anyways.
his mouth comes down on yours and it's nothing like soft. it's the kiss of a man who's been practising restraint for weeks and finally stopped. his hand slides into your hair, tilting your head back further and he kisses you until you make a small broken sound against his mouth and your hands fist in the front of his shirt just to stay upright.
when he pulls back his breathing is unsteady. he rests his forehead against yours.
"i've been trying," he says. almost to himself.
"i know," you say for the third time and you kiss him again before he can reconsider.
he carries you to his room with the same quiet efficiency he does everything, your legs wrapped round his waist, his hands braced under your thighs. he sets you on the bed like he's still trying to be careful with you and you can see the effort it's costing him. the way his hands shake slightly when he reaches for the hem of your shirt.
"rin," you say softly.
"give me a second." he closes his eyes briefly. breathes. opens them. "i'm trying not to—"
"don't try so hard."
his expression breaks open just slightly. and then he strips your shirt over your head in one motion and looks at you and something in him comes loose.
"god," he says, low. his hands slide up your ribcage, thumbs pressing just under your bra, tracing the shape of you. "how long have you been doing this to me."
not a question. more like a confession.
he reaches round and unclasps your bra with steady fingers and when it falls away he just looks at you for a long moment before he leans in and presses his mouth to the top of your breast, your collarbone, the side of your throat. slow. deliberate. like he's memorising the route.
you're already aching. already embarrassingly wet from just that, from the weight of him above you and his mouth on your skin and the weeks of restraint finally snapping.
"please," you say.
"please what." his lips brush the shell of your ear. "use your words."
"rin, please, i need—"
"daddy." his voice has gone somewhere dark and quiet and your whole body clenches. "you call me that, yeah? tonight you do."
oh.
"daddy," you breathe, barely sound, "please—"
he makes a low sound against your throat like you've undone him, and his hand slides down your stomach and under the waistband of your jeans and you gasp, back arching up off the mattress. his fingers find you through the thin fabric of your underwear and press, feeling how soaked you are and he pulls back to look at you with his expression doing something wrecked and wanting.
"this is for me?" he murmurs. pressing again. watching you squirm. "all of this?"
"yes, yes, daddy, please just—"
he pulls your jeans and underwear off in the same movement. no ceremony. and then he's looking at you spread out on his bed and he makes a noise low in his chest and his composure does something irreversible.
he strokes through your folds slowly, carefully, parting you with two fingers and circling your clit with his thumb in small deliberate circles until you're writhing and gripping the sheets and making sounds you've never made before. he's watching your face the whole time. taking notes.
"that's it," he says quietly, working you in slow steady spirals, "there you go. let me hear you."
"daddy, please, i need more—"
two fingers push inside you without warning and you cry out, walls clenching hard around them. he's still wearing his clothes. you think it might actually kill you.
"so tight," he says, something rough in his voice now, the gentleness fraying at the edges. "christ." he curls his fingers, finding the spot inside you that makes your vision blur and fucks them into you slow and deep while his thumb never stops on your clit. your thighs are shaking. your whole body is shaking.
"daddy, daddy, i'm gonna—"
"i know," he says, low, "i've got you, come on."
you fall apart in his hands with his name breaking out of you in fragments, hands fisted in the sheets, back off the mattress, and he works you through every second of it with the focused patience of a man who has been waiting a very long time.
you're still catching your breath when you hear his belt.
"you okay?" he asks, and there it is, the effort to be gentle. to check.
"i want you," you manage. "rin, i want you right now, please don't make me wait—"
"daddy." a reminder. he sounds strained.
"daddy," you say, soft and wanting, and that's all it takes.
he pushes inside you in one long slow slide that steals every word you have. the stretch of it. the fullness. he's thick enough that your mouth falls open and nothing comes out at first, just a wrecked exhale and he stops halfway and grits out "you with me?" through his teeth.
"yes, yes, don't stop—"
he sinks the rest of the way in and you both go still for a moment. his forehead drops to your temple. his breathing is rough. your walls are fluttering around him, adjusting, and he makes a tight broken sound that you feel more than hear.
"you feel…" he starts, doesn't finish.
he pulls back and pushes forward, slow. then again. finding a rhythm that's controlled and deep and absolutely devastating, hitting somewhere inside you that makes you keen on every thrust, legs wrapping round his waist, trying to pull him closer, deeper.
"yeah?" he murmurs, watching your face. "that good?"
"s'so good, daddy, please, please don't stop—"
his rhythm stutters. just slightly.
"don't say that if you want me to take care of you," he says, strained.
but you say it again anyway. because you want to watch him come apart.
and he does.
the gentleness goes. his hips snap forward hard and you cry out and he does it again, gripping your thigh, hauling it higher up his waist, changing the angle so he's hitting deeper with every thrust and the sound in the room becomes obscene, wet and slapping and your breathless mewling and his low grunts when he bottoms out. no more careful pacing. just rin itoshi finally not holding back, fucking into you with the single-minded intensity he brings to everything, and you are completely wrecked by it.
"god, you're perfect," he grits, "you feel perfect, you've been driving me fucking insane—"
"daddy—"
"say it again."
"daddy, daddy, please, i can't—"
"yes you can." he reaches between you and finds your clit and your whole body seizes up. "you're gonna come for me again. go on."
it hits you like a wave breaking, violent and sudden, and you sob through it with your face pressed into his shoulder, his name falling apart in your mouth, your nails dragging down his back without meaning to. he doesn't stop. he fucks you through both your orgasms and then chases his own with three, four, five hard decisive thrusts before he buries himself deep and groans into your hair, hips shuddering, everything going still.
he takes the empty space next to you on his bed. your thighs are ruined. the sheets are ruined. his careful, quiet bedroom looks nothing like it did an hour ago. he's on his back beside you, arm over his face, his chest rising and falling like he's just finished a match.
you lie there feeling completely unmade. thighs aching, body still buzzing, his warmth seeping into your side.
eventually rin moves his arm. turns his head to look at you. his hair is a mess, those teal eyes tired and dark and something else you can't quite name.
he reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair away from your face. slow. deliberate. the way he does everything.
"maya likes you," he says quietly.
"i know."
"i won't half ass this." he holds your gaze. steady, even now. "if this is something, it's something serious. that's what i'm telling you."
you look at him, this serious, restrained, completely undone man, and something warm settles in your chest alongside the ache.
"okay," you say softly.
and outside his bedroom window, the neighbourhood is quiet, and his sheets smell like both of you, and rin keeps his hand resting against your cheek long after he has any reason to.
mikage reo ,, nagi seishirō ,, itoshi sae ,, oliver aiku ,, michael kaiser
request. would you write bllk headcanons of their favorite way to fuck us completely dumb? it can have any characters just please add reo.
content. afab!reader, pussy eating, praise, edging, overstimming, mindbreaking, degrading, spitting, size kink, manhandling, spanking, hair pulling, breath play, choking, characters are in their 20s
玲王 ⸻ reo × teasing
don’t get me wrong, he still absolutely loves to give you the princess treatment, however .. the amount of teasing and edging he does is enough to drive you insane. he just loves loves loves to hear you beg, and you just look and sound so pretty while doing it.
he’s at his worst when he’s eating you out, completely addicted to the way you tremble under his touch when he doesn’t give you what you want, kissing your tummy, biting at your thighs, locking his big hands behind your knees to keep your legs spread for him. definitely has cum just from eating you out before.
reo has you in missionary, and he almost pulls all the way out ; slowly letting his pretty pink tip catch on your tight entrance before rubbing his head through your slick folds, just to watch how you beg and grasp for him.
“r-reo, p-please,” you sob, “m’always so fucking good for you, please just make me cum, I’m so fucking close, please!” glittering tears fall down your gorgeous face, your long lashes wet and your pretty eyes glistening and entirely focused on him.
“sorry, princess. can’t spoil you too much, m’always giving you exactly what you want. jus’want to hear you cry for me …” reo sighs, already relenting to his perfect girl, “fuck … I’m obsessed with you.”
誠士郎 ⸻ seishirō × overstim
is this a hot take bc he’s so lazy? sure, he loves quickies and morning head, but I just feel like once he’s into a session, it’ll be multiple rounds of overstim until you can hardly speak or think. just cute cries and mumbles of how much he’s stretching you open and how good it all feels. you’re his girl, after all, and he’ll hyperfixate on you the same way he will with soccer and video games. he just has so much more stamina than you. :c
“s-sei..” you swallow thickly, whining, “can’t, s’too much.”
nagi tilts his head, and he’s so adorable. he slows his thrusts and his thumb finds your clit again. you shiver, trying to close your thighs around his waist. “yeah, angel? you don’t wanna cum f’me again?”
“no, I do, it’s just—”
he scoffs. “eh? then stop complaining and use our safe word if you’re serious. it’s only been two hours.” he slides all the way back inside and you moan, arching up into his perfectly toned chest. “that’s it .. feels so good…” he sighs. you have a long night ahead .. and your pretty boy has so much more to give.
冴 ⸻ sae × mindbreak
sae is the perfect balance of worshiping you physically, but degrading you mentally. you’ve both established boundaries and of course he’ll never break them, but you’re with a man like sae because you like a mean fuck … :3
he’s soft and sweet some nights, usually if he misses you because he’s been away, but those are not the nights that he’s fucking you stupid. sae is also insanely possessive, which only adds to the mindbreaking. he will eventually soften up once he’s older, but in his twenties, you have to be okay with actively being objectified by him.
“you’re fucking mine, and you better not even think about fucking anyone else, ever … I fucking own you and your cunt.”
you nod stupidly, hardly able to keep your eyes open. he kisses you hard before squeezing your face between one of his big hands. he doesn’t even have to say anything, you just know to part your pretty lips and present your tongue for him. he spits into your mouth, purposely missing and getting half of it on your face. “good fucking girl.”
オリヴァ ⸻ oliver × manhandling
oliver’s specialties are manhandling, trying new positions, and being much bigger than you. it didn’t take him long to realize that his pretty little girlfriend has a size kink just like himself — how you’re always talking about and drooling over how he’s so big, so tall, so strong. how your sparkly eyes get so wide when he comes home from the gym, his muscles glistening and lined with prominent veins, and he’s hardly able to get in the shower with the way you’re clinging onto him like a bitch in heat.
he’s always manhandling you into positions that you’ve never even heard of, most of which show off his impressive strength. it’s a talent, honestly. sometimes it makes you want to check his browsing history to see what the fuck he’s been looking at when he’s got your face in the pillows with his foot on the back of your neck, pounding into you like his life depends on making you cum as hard as possible.
but oliver is sweet, and only as rough as you want him to be — hard, deep strokes while he rubs your clit carefully and skillfully, mean spanks followed by a soft touch to soothe the pain, pulling your hair and gently running his fingers through it afterwards.
“y’doing so good for me, angel. your perfect little cunt was made to take this big fat cock, yeah? just like that, mama.”
ミヒャエル ⸻ michael × choking
this might be a bit too obvious, but yes, this man loves breathplay, especially on himself. for him, giving that kind of control to a partner is just so fucking sexy, and he loves the connection and intimacy of mixing pain with pleasure. he’s also definitely into biting, scratching, and spanking if you’re okay with it. micha is very possessive …
michael has you bent over in bed, a massive, tattooed hand locked around your smooth, delicate throat, his deep voice low in your ear ; “mein leibling, god, you’re so pretty f’me … feels better like this, no? with my hand around your neck? you always cum so much harder … shhhh, that’s it .. just let me.”
he groans, thrusting so deep that you can feel his fat tip nudge your poor, sensitive cervix, at the same time that his full, heavy balls tense up and brush against your tiny little clit as he tries to stave off his own orgasm. you gasp and choke, a deep whine hardly escaping through his grip on your throat.
“shhhh, angel baby, it’s okay, you’re safe,” he whispers softly, and you believe him wholeheartedly, just giving in and letting him have absolute control over your body.
先輩 ⸻ written by senpai with love
notes. idek how long this has been sitting in my drafts sorry :< but I’m really excited for bllk s3 !!
[ @slutsenpai ⨯ my masterlist ] — likes, reblogs & comments much appreciated! ◟♡ do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my writing anywhere for any reason
The stadium lights were still buzzing overhead like distant thunder when you slipped into the private press room Sae had specifically requested. The match had been brutal—Sae dismantling the opposition with that cold, surgical precision of his, every pass a scalpel, every goal a statement. Your legs were still shaky from the press box, notebook clutched tight in your clammy hands, recorder already rolling in your pocket. You were a professional sports journalist, damn it. But with Sae Itoshi, professionalism always cracked the second the door locked behind you.
He was waiting, jersey half-unzipped, sweat still glistening on the sharp lines of his abs and the defined V that disappeared into his shorts. Those teal eyes locked onto you instantly—arrogant, hungry, bored with everything except the way your skirt hugged your hips.
“Lock it,” he ordered, voice low and flat, already palming the growing bulge in his shorts.
You clicked the door shut, heart hammering. “Sae, the interview—post-match reactions, tactical breakdown, your thoughts on—”
He was on you before you finished the sentence. One large hand fisted the front of your blouse, yanking you forward until your back hit the cool wall. His mouth crashed against yours, all teeth and dominance, tongue forcing its way in like he owned every inch of you. Because he did. You were his fuck buddy, his dirty little secret after every big game. The mic in your hand nearly slipped as his other palm shoved your skirt up, fingers hooking into your already soaked panties and ripping them aside.
“Keep talking, babe,” he grunted against your lips, biting down hard enough to draw a whimper. “Ask your fucking questions while I ruin this sloppy cunt.”
Two thick fingers plunged into you without warning, curling viciously against that spongy spot that made your knees buckle. You gasped, back arching, notebook pages crinkling against his chest. “Ah—Sae! The… the team’s formation today—fuck—how much did the midfield rotation contribute to the—ngh!”
He laughed, low and cruel, scissoring his fingers deeper while his thumb ground circles into your swollen clit. Your pussy clenched greedily around him, slick noises already echoing obscenely in the quiet room. “Rotation? I carried those idiots. Ask better questions.” He yanked his fingers out, spun you around, and bent you over the small interview table in one fluid motion. Papers scattered. Your recorder clattered but kept rolling.
Sae shoved your skirt up to your waist, kicked your legs apart, and freed his cock. Long, veiny, flushed angry red at the tip with that slight upward curve that always destroyed you. He rubbed the fat head along your dripping slit, teasing your entrance until you were pushing back desperately.
“Next question,” he demanded, voice husky.
You tried. God, you tried. “H-how… how do you feel about the critics saying your playstyle is too individualistic—Sae, oh my fucking god—!”
He slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Your walls stretched obscenely around his girth, that curve dragging right against your g-spot. A broken moan tore from your throat as your cheek pressed into the table, drool already leaking from the corner of your mouth. Sae’s hips snapped forward again, heavy balls smacking your clit with wet pap-pap-paps that filled the room.
“Too individualistic?” He laughed darkly, one hand fisting your hair to yank your head back while the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise. “They can choke on it. Just like you’re choking on my cock right now.” Each word was punctuated by a savage thrust, pounding you into the table so hard the legs scraped against the floor. Your pussy made filthy, squelching sounds around him, cream coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs.
“Mngh—! Sae— the… the upcoming match against—ahh, fuck, right there—!” Your reporter voice cracked into a pornographic whine as he angled his hips and drilled that perfect spot over and over. Your tongue lolled, eyes rolling back. He was so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.
“Yeah? Right there?” Sae growled, leaning over you, sweat-slick chest pressing to your back. His teeth sank into your shoulder through your blouse as he rutted harder, hips moving with that terrifying athlete stamina—relentless, precise, merciless. “Keep asking, baby. Or are you too busy getting your brains fucked out?”
You could barely form words. “T-tell the fans… what’s your… motivation—haaah— for the next season—Sae, I’m gonna—!”
He pulled out suddenly, leaving you clenching around nothing, whining pathetically. Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your back on the table, shoved your knees to your chest, and buried himself back inside with a wet slap. The new angle had his cockhead kissing your cervix with every thrust, that lewd curve scraping every sensitive ridge inside you.
“Motivation?” He smirked down at your wrecked face—mascara running, lips swollen, eyes glassy. “Fucking you stupid after every win. Watching you try to act professional while your cunt milks me dry.” His pace turned punishing, hips snapping like a machine. The table creaked dangerously. Your tits bounced with every impact, nipples hard and visible through your ruined blouse.
You reached for your notebook with trembling fingers, trying to scribble something—anything—but Sae snatched it, tossed it aside, and pinned both your wrists above your head with one hand. “No notes. Just take it.” He drove deeper, grinding his pelvis against your clit on every downstroke. The wet slap of skin on skin was deafening. Your pussy fluttered wildly around him, that telltale coil tightening fast.
“Cum for me, babe,” he snarled, voice dropping into that signature cold rasp. “Cum on the cock that just won the match.”
You shattered. A scream ripped out of you as your orgasm crashed through, walls clamping down like a vice, gushing around his pistoning length. Juices squirted messily between you, soaking his abs and the table. Sae didn’t slow. If anything, he fucked you harder through it, chasing his own release with deep, punishing strokes that made your eyes cross.
“Fuck— so tight. Greedy little pussy.” His free hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make stars burst behind your eyes. “Gonna fill you up. Knock you up right here so you have to interview the next game with my child in your belly.”
“Sae— please— cum inside, please—!” you babbled, voice hoarse, legs shaking violently around his waist.
With a guttural groan, he slammed in to the hilt and stayed there. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your spasming cunt, pulse after pulse painting your insides white. He kept grinding through it, making sure every drop stayed deep, his cock twitching against your cervix. Some of it leaked out anyway, creamy and obscene, sliding down your ass to puddle on the table.
He stayed buried inside you for long moments, catching his breath, hips giving lazy little thrusts to push his load even deeper. Finally, he pulled out with a wet pop, watching with dark satisfaction as more cum bubbled from your ruined hole.
You lay there panting, utterly wrecked, legs spread, blouse torn open, skirt bunched uselessly around your waist. The recorder was still going somewhere on the floor.
Sae tucked himself away, then leaned down, two fingers scooping up some of the leaking mess and shoving it back into your pussy. “Clean yourself up. Next question,” he said with a smirk, voice perfectly calm again, like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless. “And make it a good one. I’m not done with you tonight.”
You whimpered, already feeling your sore pussy clench around his fingers at the promise. The interview was far from over.
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