☆ my type!
— a bllk fanfic // where you confess in an interview about your type.
synopsis: who would have thought that the answer to a stupid, interview question would have put you in such a position with your (secret) boyfriend. pairing: actress! reader x aged up! bllk men [isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, sae itoshi, oliver aiku] cw: NOT PROOFREAD. SECRET RELATIONSHIP. jealousy. possessiveness. SM*T SM*T SM*T. MDNI. nsfw themes include: rough. edg*ng. multiple org*sms. filming. toys. that's all i think. old m.list. | new m.list.
you never cared to answer the stupid questions in interviews. questions about your eating habits, your current celebrity crush, your type in men — all that stuff. most actresses avoided it, and you happened to be no different. there was only so much truth in those wretched interviews in front of those flashy ring lights and perfectly edited cuts.
however, this time, you did answer that question. the low-hanging, easy question of, "what do you want for in a man? what's your type?" you and your (secret) boyfriend had been in a fight, and the thought of taunting him indirectly through an interview had been funny at the time to you. but... now... it may, or may not have ended up putting you in a... questionable state with your soccer-player, secret boyfriend.
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★ player 01: isagi yoichi!
isagi hunched over in his locker room. the place was empty, save for the flickering of the fluorescent lights above. his eyes zeroed in on the video bachira had sent to him. bachira had captioned it, "go be a man, dude."
your pretty face scrunched up as you laughed at something the interviewer had said prior. the interviewer's eyes narrowed, a sleek question on her lips, "tell me, because i think everyone wants to know. what's your type?"
you giggled, "god, that's a loaded question. hm. i don't know, really?" you fixed your hair, running your fingers through the silken strands, "maybe when men act like men?" you gave a quick glance to the camera and isagi grit his jaw at the action. you went back to looking at the interviewer, acting all sweet and charming. "i mean i'm talking surprise dates, gifts, taking charge. things most guys don't usually do."
isagi faintly remembered the conversation you both had had two nights ago. you told him something about him being too soft, too compliant. that you wanted him to be a bit more aggressive, that you had claimed you weren't a "porcelain doll."
the interviewer's voice echoed, "oh? taking charge?" she grinned, "does that extend to the bedroom?"
you shrugged, "i don't see why not."
isagi shut it off. tilting his head, he realized, he just had to be that man for you.
"mmph—!" your eyes widened, legs stumbling back as isagi crashed his lips into yours the second he entered your apartment. pressing his body weight to yours, he pushed your backwards till you were walking back into your bedroom.
you back hit the sprightly mattress. you looked up at him. there was a feral look in his eyes. your chest rose and fell rapidly, lips red and swollen as you whispered, "'ichi... what's with you?"
"nothing." he pulled the hem of his shirt upwards and tugged it off. his bare abs glistened in the pale, dim light. he gave you a grin, "just being the man that you want me to be."
"wh-what?"
"strip."
now, an hour and twenty minutes in you regretted ever answering that question. your hips ached, your thighs ached, your stomach churned itself inwards and isagi yoichi refused to quit.
his sweaty chest stuck to your back, his arms looped around your waist as he pushed his throbbing erection into your cunt so goddamn slow. he sweetly whispered from behind, "go on. cum."
"i-ichi." your heavy lids fell close, breath ragged as he pushed himself in within your plush, velvety hole, "p-please. please i- i can't like... like this."
"can't what?"
"i can't... cum like this." you winced at how pathetic you sounded, how after an hour of him fucking your sopping cunt, you were still at a net total of zero orgasms. you had never been so desperate, never been so edge of unraveling this badly. but god, he had been edging you for eternity. he picked up his pace, hitting that gooey spot inside of you into a puddle of desire that seeped out of you and dripped down to his muscled thighs. and then... as soon as you teetered on the edge of an orgasm, he stopped. you bit down your bottom lip, "please. i-hnghh can't..."
"awh?" he cooed, his ever-slow pace never faltering, "why not?"
"i-it's just... so slow." you felt his smug grin behind you, "is it? i can just fasten it up, then."
he thrust into you all at once, impaling you on his dick. his tip nudged against your g-spot again and you sobbed, "yoichi- fuck... i'm s-sorry. please just let me— god!"
he slapped your cunt, a sharp sound that reverberated through your bedroom. your entire body jolted, your lips agape as you moaned, "fu-fuck, yes. please..."
"like that?" he grinned, licking a stripe down your flushed neck. you keened into his fast thrusts, squirming and crying, finally at the edge of release again. "yes, yes- yes. fuck. ichi. i-i'm never gonna say that again— hck!"
"ah?" he slowed down. again. "say what?"
tears stung your eyes, your throat burned. you were yet again pulled away from the feeling of ecstasy. weakly, you cried, "n-no... please."
"what's wrong?" isagi pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, "i'm doin' what you asked, baby. taking charge."
your lips wobbled, "p-please."
"look at you now..." he tsked, "i thought you weren't gonna fucking break, doll."
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★ player 02: rin itoshi!
rin replayed the clip again. it was exactly 17 seconds and he had played it enough times to practically memorize your words, and yet, he played it again. you hummed, holding the mic to your plush lips, "what's my type? god... i hate nonchalance, you know?"
the audience cheered and you nodded in response, excitedly admitting, "right? like stop acting like that!"
rin's breath sharpened as you continued, "but yeah, okay, i'd say my type is someone who doesn't act like they don't care. puts me before themselves." you laughed, "is that too selfish to say?"
the interviewer assured you, "not at all! it's just a fact to want someone who loves you and prioritizes you!"
"right." rin hummed to himself, shutting off the phone to catch a reflection of himself in the black glass. "her before me."
the next you knew was that he was locking the bedroom door and asking you to lay comfortably on your bed.
you furrowed your brows, but complied, "what?"
he raked his eyes over your face, dryly responding, "i saw an interview of yours."
"huh?" you tilted your head to the side, "the new press conference for the movie—?"
"about your type in men."
your face dropped, "oh, rin. that- that was a joke. i didn't mean what—!"
"no." he hummed, drawing closer. "it's true. i should put you before myself."
and so, being a man of his words, rin itoshi did just that.
your wrists squirmed against the fabric of his tie. your hips bucked up and down, your entire body trying to pull itself back. fluttering your teary eyes closed, you choked, "p-please... no more."
"hm?" he lazily snapped his digits in and out of you, "no more?"
you nodded, grieved, "please... rin—" your voice broke as the man increased his tempo. your back arched off, walls clawing down his fingers as another orgasm threatened to rush past your body. stammering and stuttering, you cried, "i- 's sen-sensitive... please rin."
but the man didn't care. he was too busy ushering you towards your fifth orgasm of the night. he hummed to himself, "tch. but isn't this what you wanted? you before me?"
your walls clamped, "i— please."
"—and while I'm doing that..." rin brought another hand to your cunt, pinching your clit. you yelped, and he rubbed circles with his fingers as if that'll help soothe the pain. "while I'm being such a gentleman, not having even cum once..." his eyes sharpen, "you're still taking it for granted."
you shook your head feverishly, feeling his fingerpads swiping against your slicked, throbbing clit. gulping, "-m... 'm not."
he pressed down on your clit, tutting, "you are. stop lying."
"gah—!" you raised your hips upward, shaking your head and whispering, "rin... rin— fuck. please." your hips stuttered, pulling away from his hands, "s-stop!"
surprisingly, he stopped. his eyes sharpened, tense muscles relaxing as he dropped his hands. you blinked at him, "r-rin...?"
"I believe this was enough of me putting you before me." his erection throbbed inside his sweatshirt, a wet patch of his pre on the fabric taunting you. "now, my turn."
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★ player 03: sae itoshi!
sae looked at the link sendou had forwarded him. his first instinct was to ignore sendou, his second instinct however, drove him to curiosity and made him open the link.
you laughed at the stupid question that the stupid interviewer had asked you. you threw your hair behind your shoulders and that laugh turned into a faux grimace, "oh, my type? god, do you want me to be honest?"
the audience cheered and you laughed, "yeah, okay. i like them possessive. i know, controversial! but it's kinda cool when a guy cares enough for it to physically show."
"hm?" sae hummed to himself as the video ended. was his love for you not apparent enough? so troublesome. he could recall a recurring fight you two always had, one where you claimed that he "didn't care about you enough." that even if he saw you cozy with your co-stars, he wouldn't be least bothered by that shit. well, if you wanted possessive, he would give you exactly that.
hours later, your ass was lifted into the air as sae thrusted inside you. your tear-struck face was pushed deeper into the mattress as sae pressed his palm to your head. the tripod was set up, his camera in the perfect position to capture your entire ruination.
you cried into the sheets, muffled, "s-slower... pl-please hck-!"
"mhm?" the man snapped his pelvis to yours, unstopping. your skin stung red by his actions, drool tainting the sheets under you. your pussy squelched with each quick thrust inside of you. lips wobbling, you cried again, "s-sae..."
bored as always, the man answered your plea with a sharp jolt to your ass. your cheek stung yet again, the reddened skin throbbing with the hot sensation of his palm. he pressed his fingers against the imprint, soothing it, "what's wrong? can't speak now?"
"s-stop." you felt your thighs shaking, body falling forward slack as he kept up his pace. you mustered up enough energy to groan, "please."
"huh?" you felt your body being holstered up. your limbs went slack as sae wrapped a hand around your waist and another around your nape. your ruined face - mascara dripping, lipstick smudged, neck bruised with hickies, and tears falling down your cheeks - faced the camera directly.
from behind you, sae itoshi tutted, "see that?"
you nodded, slow and dumb. he hummed, "let that be proof enough of just. how. possessive. i can be." each word was punctuated with a sharp thrust. your jaw fell open, eyes rolling back as this elevated angle hit your gooey spot so much more intimately. your entire body melted in his hold, your mind going blank. sae forced your cheeks into a pout, his voice stern, "look at the camera."
having no idea what was up or down, what even was a camera, you let his move your face. your hazy, teary vision zeroed on the device. he grunted, "having fun?"
you nodded, "y-yes."
"think you're gonna- hah- say that shit in interviews again?"
you shook your head, "n-no."
"yeah, everytime you even think of spewing nonsense like that." he slowed his pace, burying himself to the hilt and stalling. you moaned at the feeling of dick throbbing inside, beading out drops of pre that sloshed inside of you. sae threatened, "if you even think of that shit... remember this. you like this."
you swallowed, "y-yes."
"or if you'd want, i can always send you this video to y'know... jog up your memory."
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★ player 04: oliver aiku!
oliver grinned to himself as he saw your name trending on twitter right next to his. oh, what had his pretty 'lil girlfriend gotten herself into now?
he played the video.
"i hate playboys." you said out flat, not even taking a minute to think about the question put in front of you. "god, those cocky bastards? who think with their dick and think that just cause they're hot, they can have it all? bouncing from one girl to the other? yeah, no."
the interviewer grinned, "oh, that seems extremely specific."
you laughed, "it's not! but if i had to give an example..." you hummed, shifting your gaze to the camera, "oliver aiku, maybe?"
oliver laughed again. seriously? were you going public with the fight the two of you had had a night ago? you had asked him about his past and he had been brutally honest — admitting about his infamous one night stands. the admission had, however, soured your mood enough for you to go to sleep with a frown. oliver didn't think it was that serious, but here you were — ruining his name.
"oh, soccer player oliver aiku? the captain?" the woman sitting opposite to you sounded excited as you nodded, "the very same. he gives me messy fuckboy vibes. i didn't dig it. at all."
oh? you didn't dig him at all? such a lie!
your hands clawed against the sheet, head thrown back as aiku pushed the vibrator deeper into your cunt. he grinned, "didn't think we were hard launching ourselves on the internet right now."
"w-we aren't!" your hips stuttered, body moving forward and back to rock yourself on the device. aiku held the toy steady, letting you fuck yourself on it. he mused, "tch. our names are trending on twitter together. the internet hah— sleuths think you're one of my one night stands. our managers are gonna be..." holding your hips with one broad hand, he drilled the toy into your core. "pissed."
"i-i know..." you swallowed in vain, your words broken and jittery. aiku rolled his eyes, all sugary sweet even as he ruined you. "why even do it, baby?"
"i was- i was pissed at you."
"cause i'm hot and i think with my dick?" bringing another suction vibrator, he nudged your clit. the sudden suction on the nub shook your body, and he laughed at your reaction, "yeah, i mean... i do think with my dick sometimes. right now being one of those moments."
"aiku." you threatened, "c-cut it out."
"awh? c-cut it out?" he cooed, throwing his lips into a pout. "is it too much? what was that about me being messy—?"
"fuck-!" your hips bucked upwards, right into the steady suction and vibration of the device. aiku grinned as your pussy spasmed and dribbled out wafty whisps of honeyed slick around the long vibrator. the liquid splattered down to his palm, onto his wrist. he cooed again, "see? you're the messy one." he pushed the toy and watched as your cunt swallowed it whole. "so messy."
"ai-aiku..." your body arched upwards, head throw back as he kept manouvering the toy in and out of your nested heat. your toes curled, throat burned and face heat up with the rush of blood and adrenaline. meanwhile, all aiku did was grin and make a show of it — really draaaag your orgasm out and humiliate you through it. he probably wanted you take it back. no. most certainly.
"you hurt me, y'know..." he says quietly, and you almost would have believed his little act — being all mushed brain and stupid — had it not been for the shit eating grin plastered across his lips. you scoff, "sh-shut up."
"no, no." he tutted, twisting the vibrator inside you and tightening the suctioning one right on your sensitive clit. "all that talk about how you don't dig me?"
his eyes drifted off to the phone perched on the tripod, "i think i gotta show you some evidence for how much you do dig me," he lodged the vibrator in deeper, his lips pulled into a grin, "baby."
a.n.: i am outta writing juice :( old m.list. | new m.list.
