itoshi sae x f!reader smut. reader is needy and desperate and sae teases you all the more for it. reader referred to as girl and baby. size kink/size difference, cervix hitting, cumming together, p in v.
word count: 2k
Sae is always pretty, always attractive. Naturally, objectively. You have seen him over and over again and craving it each time must be something like being drugged. Sharp jawline that brushes against your cheek, the hard line of his body as you push him down onto the sofa, muscles that shift with every movement under your hands.
"Sae," his name leaves you with a breathless whine, he takes it all too smugly, delicate hands wrapped around you, steady as a lighthouse at sea. Your mouth is on his before he can answer, he lets you in with ease, plays with his tongue against yours, swipes the tip of his tongue against the back of your teeth and he's always doing this, isn't he? Making want so palpable, insatiable.
"Want you," it's as much of a phrase as you can get out, your hands at the hem of his shirt, pushing up to reveal his abdomen. The muscle there is relaxed now but it tenses under your touch. You know Sae well enough, he's far from unaffected by you. "Want you so bad. Please. Sae."
"Go ahead, then." His eyebrows shift up just slightly. Like amusement, like a challenge.
Or maybe you can't tell because all your head is fogged and filled with is him, him, him. With how warm his body is under your skin, lifting his shirt off and tossing it aside. But trying to return your hands to where they want to be — on him, making shapes over his muscles — has him catching them in his.
"You ask me for something, then you don't give me something in return?" There's a lilt to his voice, much too playful for how you grind onto him in impatience, with how heat pools in your gut and sparks up your spine, the firework crackle that makes its way to your chest. "Yours, off."
You oblige and he watches, forces you to move of your own will as he makes a show of checking you out, eyes that feel heavy and heated. It makes you hurry, pressing your lips to his again, if only to dull the intensity.
Not that it helps, not that anything helps. He's too gentle with you on purpose, letting you have him. "Give it to me, please." You pull on his belt, unbuckle it with trembling fingers. You miss twice, and you can feel the chuckle in his chest that's pressed against yours. "You always do this. You think I don't know? You do this on purpose."
"Blaming me?" It's unfair, really, how your breath comes short where he sounds almost normal. His voice is quiet, words meant just for you, kept away from the world, an experience only you get to have. His belt comes free, finally, falling to the floor with a thunk that you forget to register.
"You like it when I'm like this. Wanting you, desperate." You unbutton his pants, slide your fingers under his boxers just slightly. Testing the waters with the strip of skin, warmer than anywhere else. You feel his cock jump in his pants, can barely stop yourself from pressing down onto his hardening length again and again, until heat slips honey-slow down your chest like alcohol.
He taps you on the waist, heated palms wrapped around your hips. "Get up, take these off."
You stand up in a rush, your pants dropping to the floor. It's easier to follow his orders than deal with the consequences, and right now, all you can think about is what he could give you, all he has to offer.
"You're so mean to me." You tell him as you climb into his lap again, drawn to his warmth, pulled into him like the sea to the moon.
"I know." He kisses you slow, syrupy, makes the ache between your thighs that much worse, a reward for speaking your mind. "You're so good to me." Another chaste kiss to your lips, and then to your earlobe, starlight sparks in sensitivity. "My good girl. You can take it, can't you?"
"You're playing with my head." Your face falls into his shoulder, cushioned, his hands making their way up your thighs to trace around the hem of your panties. Looking down in the space between you both, your hands pull down his zipper, pushing down his pants just enough that you can feel his clothed cock against your own clothed cunt.
"Mm, I think it's cute." It's the most of an admittance you get from him, and the last thought you're capable of thinking. Because then the pads of his fingers are running up and down your clothed slit, every ridge apparent to him with how wet the fabric is soaked through. "You sure you're wet enough to just take me?"
"Doesn't matter. I want it. Want you so bad." It's like he doesn't get it, how bad it aches, how hypersensitive you feel, your quickening heart rate. He's the only person who can fix this, who can make this go away and make this feel good. You pull his cock out of his boxers, wrap your hand around the length and pump him once, twice. He matches you, pulling your panties to the side, runs his finger through your velvety folds and gets them coated with your slick before rubbing the wetness over the head of his cock.
"It's about to matter." His thumb finds your clit with ease, running a circle around it that has your hips jerking in his hold. He pulls you down onto the underside of his erect member, has you grind up and down the soft skin, honey-slick dripping over. Your throat goes dry with want, thighs tense. You feel like you want to scream, cry, something, anything if that's what it takes for him to just —
"Easy," he hushes, the head of his cock catching at your entrance. Yes, yes. You gasp and whine into his shoulder, hold on tight like being lost at sea with a buoy. He helps push your figure down, until you've taken the first inch of him in.
"Oh fuck, it's so good. It's so, so good. Thank you. Thank you." Your nails make crescent moons in his skin, pleasure rocking through you. It's at around the third inch that you start to remember how big he is, that maybe this was a little too ambitious, but then his thumb is circling your clit again and it starts to matter less. You're still part empty, and being full and filled with him is the only thing on your mind. You moan and he knows. Intuitively, innately. Pulling you back up to hear you cry at the loss of him only to push back in and add another inch.
"Baby," he leans his head back onto the sofa, watches as your slick starts to make streaks down his cock. It's so much like you, to make yourself known onto him. "Ah, fuck. Okay. Just a little more, okay?"
"You're a fucking liar." Your voice is muffled into the crux of his neck, where you can feel the way laughter makes its way through his body.
"Yeah." He sheathes more of himself into you, until your walls and thighs clench hard with a squeal, gives you a wet kiss to your cheek. "I'll make you feel good."
"You teased me —," something between a hiccup and a sob leaves you as you pull yourself up him again, dropping down more of him with a satisfied sigh. "All fucking day. All day. You're so mean to me. Just give it to me."
The world flips on its axis, a dizzy spin until your back lands on the sofa, Sae's body between your legs. "Don't brat to me." He spreads your knees a little further, pushes them towards you a little closer. "You've been good to me. Don't ruin it. Or I'll make it worse."
Another little cry leaves you as he presses into you again. "Okay, okay. Just —"
"I'm getting there." There's a rhythm now, enough of him inside of you to start one, centimeters that push into you with each thrust. "You're so needy. Can feel you clenching around me."
"God, Sae," the way he speaks to you is half-condescending, your desperation just another way for him to humiliate you. So why does it have more of your slick dripping over him? Your eyelids grow heavy with the pleasure, entirely full of him now, until the head of his cock starts to brush up against your cervix, and it's not until he starts to press up against it entirely that you feel his balls against your skin.
"Better?"
"Yes. Yes, fuck, so full." Your mind blanks with each push of his cock inside of you, and god does it make him groan with the way how soft and wet you are envelops around him. His necklace swings with each thrust and you wrap your hand around the metal of it lightly, pulling him down into a kiss that is so honey-slow it makes your heart ache. Teal eyes like stained glass admire you and ever gasp you make only has him fucking into you a little harder, love bitten lips that chase yours over and over.
"You're so pretty." His body presses closer to yours, almost lying on top of you entirely, his thumb brushing over your cheek and the mix of his gentleness and the hard way he fucks you makes you sob into him. Loved wholly, entirely. "Mm. You're gonna come for me, yeah?"
The warmth of his body leaves you momentarily only to pull you back down onto him by your thighs, before he leans into you again and you swear he might be even deeper this time, have no idea how you manage to accommodate him. Your mind swims and your legs try to trap Sae between them as his fingers run circles over your clit again, circular movements that have your back arching, firework crackle that kindles in your gut, flashes of heat that make you clench impossibly tight around him.
"That's it," Sae loves to watch you like this, how each part of your body tenses, how you make how you feel known to him in every movement. His cock throbs inside of you as your orgasm wracks through, the high-pitched noise that leaves you only makes him feel closer, until he cums into your oversensitive cunt, spilling into you and fucking you through the waves of your pleasure.
Sae catches himself short of falling onto you, leans against the arm of the couch above you, heavy breaths and reprieve.
"Wow," you exhale, and that makes a giggle jump out of you, until he chuckles and lands his face in the crux of your neck. "Oh wow, we should really do that again."
You can feel his smile against your skin, sunbeam-warm. "You were a little mad at me."
"I was frustrated. And rightfully so, you had your hands on me all day."
"You're cute when you're mad. Frustrated." He corrects easily, and then you're reaching for his face, peppering kisses over his lips until he holds you down and kisses you fully, properly, affection sweet on your tongue, sugared with his love.
i think corae is more about understanding than anything. to be known is to be loved. you don't have to act in any sort of way with me. i see you for exactly who and what you are, no facades and no illusions, and i love you not despite it but because of it. you don't have to say what you mean, you don't have to prove yourself or defend yourself or brush it off. i inherently understand. i know you soul to soul.
leora on the other hand is about feeling alive. here is this dark, treacherous world, and here we are at the center of it. i don't know if we can make it better alone but we'll do our best. in the meantime, i want to hear you laugh like that again. i want to feel your smile against my skin, i want us to crack another joke and maybe through that, the light starts to enter. the world does not change in one fell swoop and i know it, we would not know each other as well as we did if i didn't know what you knew. but with your hand in mine, maybe it gets a little lighter. maybe that is worth something (maybe that is worth everything).
me personally I love weddings as a sign of respect towards the relationship instead of a need. yes we will have a wedding because the love we have deserves to be respected in a traditional manner. seen, witnessed. not necessarily because of tradition itself but because our love deserves celebration
itoshi sae x reader. sae wants you to be his significant other. conversation inspired by the movie Materialists A24. word count: 900
"You're investing a lot in me."
You don't see the bill, of course, but you see Sae sign it. No hesitation, a swift motion that carries.
His eyebrow quirks, just slightly, as the bill gets taken away. You've begun to understand him now, he's a little more emotive than you'd initially think. "What do you mean?"
"Money, time." Your hand smoothens over the napkin. It's embroidered with the restaurant's logo, folded neatly. "There's not a single solid piece of news about your dating life. Either you're very good at hiding it, or you don't do this often. I'm not sure if I like you or if I like the way that makes me feel."
"How do I make you feel?" Something about his gaze, where seafoam meets the shore, feels heavy — like the weight of the fork that was just in your hand, little details that remind you of its worth.
"Valuable." You exhale, the way people do in a confessional booth. "You make me feel valuable."
"You are valuable." He says it like a promise. And then the corner of his mouth quirks up, just slight. "You like me."
"I like the way you pick up the bill," you counter quickly, gesturing with your hands the graceful way he slid closed the checkbook. "Smooth, no fear."
"Why should I be scared?" His eyes don't leave you even once. You find there's intention in everything he does. "It's just money."
"You're the reason people have such high dating standards, you know that? Because against all odds, people think they might actually meet someone like you and have them fall in love with them."
Sae doesn't deign that a response, lets the restaurant chatter fill the silence. But it still feels secondary to the way his gaze lingers over you, ice-hot, the chill of snow in front of a fireplace.
"What are you thinking about?" He's good at that, asking about you. You'd think a man like him would only care about himself. You think of an ice-lake that begins to melt, the first crack before the bloom of spring.
"I don't want to stroke your ego any further."
"Oh?" There's something like a ghost of a smile over his lips." That good?"
"You're attractive, rich, an athlete — a formidable career. You've treated me like a princess since I got here. You could have anyone you wanted — a model, an actress. Younger, prettier, more successful."
"Does it seem like that’s what I want?"
"What are you doing with me?"
"I'm taking you out on a date." There's something about the way he says it. Simple, truth spread out on the table like butter on bread, unhidden from it.
"Is it worth it, for you?"
"I think you're selling yourself short."
"It's not like that. I know my worth."
"You're honest." It's so simple that it almost makes you laugh, but there's something in the way he looks at you — melting ice, a glacier that sinks ocean deep. "I think you don't pretend to be anyone you’re not. You're open, you know a lot. You're likeable and easy to trust."
"I don't have anything to lie about."
"You remember things, details people don't expect. You know how to keep a conversation focused on another person."
"I wasn't able to with you."
There's a tick of satisfaction he gets from that. "Not once in this entire date have I felt like you weren't yourself."
"Is that enough for you? I have no — dowry. In fact, I probably have negative dowry."
"Do I seem like I need one?" His watch glints in the low restaurant light, a silver-caught light. "Material assets are cheap."
"Then what do you want from me?"
He sits up straighter. "I want to see you more seriously."
You almost laugh, a huff of air that almost makes him feel for the first time like you're not hearing him. "You have nothing to worry about."
That has him perplexed. He gauges your reaction like measurement, can't place whether you're not seeing what he's seeing or if you're just pretending. "I saw you at that event."
He recalls it a little too swiftly, the way people touch you a little too easily, hug you at first meet, let their arms linger around you a little too long. If he thinks about it too much, he thinks he might snap.
You open your palm to him, no different than the way you open yourself up to the world — entirely willing, fully experiencing, diving heart-first into every launch. His hand slips to hold yours, fingers intertwining across the table, overlapping constellations.
If he could, he'd pull you in a little closer. The table is in the way, he thinks. Maybe it's time to leave, just so he can have you a little nearer. Instead, he brings your hand up and kisses the back of it lightly. He looks at you like he could devour you, or worship you. Something that maybe should be unbefitting of him, with his stature, with the way he carries himself.
"I want to see you more seriously." He tells you again, ensures the words carry the weight he means it with. That there's no doubt, not in the breath he draws or your hand firmly in his.
if you're into it sae does babytrap you a little. sorry. in his defense he takes care of everything and you don't have to think about anything ever during that time. he obviously had forethought before doing it. research and time etc.. but you know. he decided that you'd be a wonderful parent and does think having a child would make you happy whether you believe it or not, and this also keeps you with him.
sae saying “she’s not my girlfriend” in an interview gets plastered across social media. and then cut to you, sitting on the couch with a ring on your finger, watching said clip and looking pointedly between him, the video, and you. “they cut the second part,” he tries to point out, “where I said you’re my fiancé. that’s not my fault.” a smile cracks like dawn on your face. “you’ve been famous for so many years, how are you not PR trained.” you ask him
YOU SPOIL MEEEEEEEEEEJDJEJJEJDJJE AAAAAAAAAAAAA BITTIIIIIIIIII I ALREADY LOVE YOUUUUUUU YOU MUST KNOW T^T I AM GONNA FREAK OUT ABOUT THIS FOREVER wait I need to post this everywhere . EVERYWHWRE WAITJWJKEJB WAIT WHAT DO YOU MEAAANSNWNND
THE HALF BUTTONED SHIRT WAIT
no one can ever speak to me again after this. No One. HELLO YOUR ART STYLEEEEE WHICH I LOVE SOSOSOOSOS MUCH THE MOST BEAUTIFUL COLORS IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD MY BITTI FRIEND T^T you must know I am your friend always…… wauuuuuuuh cora found on the floor crying…… I will be back again…&:$2&3&&3&3&& i will be back hold on I need to put this everywhere . BRB . my lockscreen has been a sae manga panel for so long i am ….. so honored and grateful truly ALSO U MADE ME LOOK SO CUTIEFUL T^T WUAHDJWJD U MADE ME SO PRETTY HELLO I ADORE YOU FOR LIFE
You're not sure if you can love her with how you fear her. She is a roaring maiden, merciless and impartial. She may be calm now, outside your window, tide that swoops and sweeps with the easy breeze. But she is capable of great danger, of world-ending and death-keeping.
But it doesn't matter. Because she was not made to be loved, she was not made to be anything. She exists to exist, she simply is.
"What are you thinking about?"
Sae is a gentle interruption, a lap of water that pushes towards the shore a little further than you expect. The ring on your finger flickers a rainbow onto the ceiling, a kind of tell-tale sign for the pot of gold it feels like he gives you. No matter how deserving you feel of it.
"Just a little tired."
Sitting with him feels like a winter beach. Loved in the summer, empty once the ice in the air chills. People love the version of him that they've created in their minds: a cold genius, a force to be reckoned with. To love, you have to do it wholly, completely.
You don't love the sea, but you do love Sae. The easy way his fingers slip between yours, his steady heartbeat as your face falls into his chest. You love the way he loves the sea: the happy memories of when he and his brother were little, the gawk of a seagull, the crowd of them on the handkerchief he still keeps.
"Let's sleep." It's in one easy movement that he picks you up, holds you like something delicate.
"It's the afternoon." It’s not a protest from you, but a statement. You and Sae are like that — never at odds, within everything together.
"You're tired."
"You hate naps."
"You'll sleep." The bed dips, a blanket draped over you before he folds himself in too, warmth worth keeping. "And I'll be here."
