࣪a masochist scrounging for any sort of entertainment found on the internet. nsfw. sae's got me on chokehold. brain full of gore, tits, and fictional men. babe, i’ll script your downfall in red ink.
っཀっ m. list | rules | ao3 | ko-fi
everythingbeyondthispointisunderconstruction
(What I currently write for or might write for in the future):
࣪ ִֶָ☾. blue lock, sakamoto days jjk, haikyuu, bsd, sxf, naruto, hxh, dandadan, csm, kny, solo leveling, tokyo revengers, wind breaker, aot, bnha, tog, tpn, fire force, genshin impact, hazbin hotel, code geass (pretty sure there's more I just can't think of them atm)
࣪ ִֶָ☾. my drafts contain an insane number of fics and drabble smh
࣪ ִֶָ☾. there's just something about the hot older brothers (sae, itachi, lelouch, suna, sanemi, and yes shisui counts)
࣪ ִֶָ☾. watch me write a shit ton of sae fics. i'm fucking obsessed
MASTERLIST || AO3
Tower of God
Khun Aguero Agnis
Flirting and Cupcakes
Blue Lock
Sae Itoshi
After Ashes •Part 1 •Part 2 •Part 3
Puppy Love
As long as it's you
Emotionally, Physically, Allegedly --- Off Script
a/n: aggressively NEED THAT. @accidenthppns see i delivered
ac goes to bm169_v2
synopsis: jester!sae x royal princess!reader oneshot i am not okay.
the first time sae makes you laugh, it is entirely by accident.
your court has gathered in the grand dining hall for another miserable political feast full of jeweled goblets, stiff-backed nobles, and men old enough to crumble into dust trying to convince your father they deserve more land. oh brother.
you are halfway through dying of boredom when the king gestures toward the entertainers.
“bring in the jesters.”
you expect bells. tricks. something humiliating.
but instead, a tall boy with pinkish maroon hair walks into the hall looking deeply offended to be there at all.
he wears red and silver, his hat lacking the ridiculous dangling bells the others wear. his expression stays flat as he bows with all the enthusiasm of someone attending a funeral.
the nobles already seem irritated by him. good.
“this is the new one?” one lord scoffs. “he looks miserable.”
“i am,” sae replies calmly.
the silence afterward is so catastrophic that wine nearly exits your nose.
your hand flies over your mouth too late. the sound escapes anyway – a sharp laugh that echoes through the hall.
everyone is shocked.
sae looks up at you for the first time. his eyes are pretty in a dangerous way. like polished glass.
your father sighs heavily. “you were meant to entertain quietly.”
“then they should hire quieter people.”
another laugh slips out of you before you can stop it.
you spend the rest of dinner pretending not to notice sae glancing toward the royal table every few minutes.
he becomes your favorite part of the court after that. which is unfortunate. because jesters are meant to exist in the background. decorations with jokes attached. people forget they are there.
sae refuses to be forgettable though. he lounges across windowsills during banquets with the elegance of a prince and the attitude of someone moments away from insulting a duke. he wins knife games against soldiers twice his size. he speaks to nobles like they inconvenience him personally.
so it’s only natural that you overhear maids gossiping about him constantly.
“he’s rude.”
“he’s terrifying.”
“i think he threatened a bishop.”
“well… did the bishop deserve it?”
the answer is usually yes.
and that’s when you start seeking him out in quiet moments.
sometimes he sits in the palace gardens tossing apples into the air with lazy precision. other times you find him asleep in absurd places – library ladders, balconies, once inside a window alcove while musicians performed a meter away.
today, you discover him beneath a tree in the courtyard, reading.
“i thought jesters were supposed to juggle.”
without looking up, he says, “i can juggle books if that helps.”
you smile despite yourself and sit beside him, lifting the edge of your gown away from the dirt. “what are you reading?”
“history.”
“willingly?”
“sadly so.”
his gaze flicks toward you then. subtle and assessing. you notice he does that often now. like he’s trying to figure out something.
“you don’t act like a jester,” you tell him quietly.
“you don’t act like royalty.”
“that sounds insulting.”
“it wasn’t.”
the wind shifts softly through the courtyard trees. for a second, neither of you speak.
then sae closes his book and says, “you look unhappy during court.”
the honesty catches you off guard. people rarely ask you things directly. they dance around you carefully, smiling too much, lying too easily.
“court is exhausting,” you admit. “everyone wants something from me.”
“and what do you want?”
you stare at him. he asks it so simply. as if the answer matters.
“i don’t know,” you whisper.
sae leans back against the tree trunk, eyes half-lidded. “that’s probably the first honest thing anyone in this palace has said all week.”
the rumors begin soon after. a princess spending time with a jester becomes entertainment for the court itself. you hear whispers during dances. poor thing, they say. how embarrassing. how improper.
one noblewoman even asks you directly, “surely you don’t actually enjoy his company?”
you glance across the ballroom where sae stands near a marble pillar, already looking seconds away from leaving and walking out the grand double doors. but when he meets your eyes, you catch it – the faintest tilt of his lips.
“immensely,” you answer.
the woman nearly chokes.
later that evening, sae corners you on a balcony overlooking the palace gardens.
“you should stop defending me.”
moonlight catches against the silver embroidery of his sleeves.
you tilt your head. “why?”
“because people are cruel to you afterward.”
“people are cruel regardless.”
his jaw tightens slightly. “they shouldn’t be.”
there’s something dangerous about the way he says it. like something sharp enough to cut.
you step closer before thinking better of it. “does it bother you?”
“yes.”
the answer comes instantly. your heartbeat stumbles embarrassingly hard. sae takes notes of it. his eyes lower briefly to your hands where they clutch the balcony railing too tightly.
“you’re nervous,” he murmurs.
“you’re staring.”
“you’re pretty.”
your face grows warm. the words landed with devastating ease, how did he deliver that so smoothly with not even a single stutter?
sae watches the reaction carefully, almost curiously, like he enjoys discovering which words affect you most.
“you say things too directly,” you whisper.
“would you rather i lie?”
“that would be easier.”
he hums softly. “i’m bad at lying though.”
you think he might step closer. you think you might let him. instead, voices echo from inside the ballroom, shattering the moment apart.
sae clicks his tongue in annoyance. “your kingdom keeps interrupting me.”
“my apologies.”
“i don’t forgive you.”
but his mouth curves slightly when he says it.
and for the first time in years, returning to the ballroom doesn’t feel quite as unbearable as it used to be.
The ring box he's been hiding for two months is now mocking him every time he wakes up.
He tried to plan something simple.
You love nature. You love quiet. You love him (for some reason he still can't fathom) and he figured a serene picnic at a flower field might work.
Keyword: tried.
The weather ruined it. A surprise thunderstorm crashed down the moment he took you outside.
So he panicked and went for Plan B.
Which is actually Plan F by now.
You're at Rin's place, curled up on his bed reading while he "cooks" in the kitchen. You hear a crash, followed by a string of whispered cursing.
"Everything okay?" you call.
"No."
You peek in to find a cake, which he tried to make, has collapsed in on itself.
You stare.
He looks like he's on the verge of crying.
You try not to laugh.
He storms past you without a word, cheeks red.
You watch him disappear into the hallway, muttering, "Stupid fucking frosting, I should've just eloped."
That night, he gets weirdly quiet.
More than usual.
You're about to ask him if he's mad at himself again when he suddenly gets up, walks over to you and kneels down.
Your eyes widen. "Rin—?"
He opens a ring box.
But nothing comes out of his mouth.
Just silence.
And a blank stare.
You wait.
"You okay?"
"Shit. I forgot the speech."
You bite your lip, trying not to laugh, but he blurts, "Marry me."
You blink.
"Wait, no—fuck, I was supposed to say something deep. Something about how you make my world slow down and speed up at the same time. How you make my life feel like— like— like it's finally mine, not something Sae left behind."
Your breath catches.
"And how every time I look at you, I feel this horrible, overwhelming fear that you'll disappear. But also this peace. Because if you're beside me, nothing else matters. Even losing."
You stare at him.
He looks wrecked.
"I had all this written down," he mutters. "I practiced in the mirror, like a loser. I even lit candles— fucking candles, can you imagine me lighting candles? And now I've forgotten everything."
You smile, soft and shaken.
He holds out the ring.
His hands tremble.
"I know I suck at this but please... let me still ask. Just once. So I can feel like I earned this."
Tears burn your eyes.
You kneel down, too. "Okay."
He lets out a shuddering breath. "You will?"
"Yes, you idiot," you whisper. "You earned me a long time ago."
He sighs finally with relief and kisses you like you just saved his entire universe.
BONUS: Sae's Reaction
Sae gets a picture of you wearing the ring, sent by Rin with no caption.
A few seconds later, Sae replies:
"So you lost another match. Got it."
Rin stares.
Then puts his phone down.
He doesn't curse. He just goes back to cuddling you like you're his life support.
PLZ PLZ ANOTHER SUGGESTIVE RIN X F!YN AND THEM AS NEWLYWEDS TRYING TO FIGURE STUFF IN THEIR HONEYMOON OR WHAT EVER WGWOWWNAO
How can you be so calm
A night of passion with Rin
Tw: This chapter contains smut, minors please DO NOT interact with this part!
You're in the kitchen right now, humming some random song, wearing your usual oversized T-shirt and pouring tea like it's just another lazy afternoon.
And Rin?
He's sitting at the edge of the couch, staring blankly at nothing and trying really, really hard not to think about the his OWN WEDDING NIGHT.
But it's useless.
You lean forward slightly to reach a mug, and the way your shirt clings to your hips for just a second…
Goddammit.
He squeezes his eyes shut. And the flashes come fast. Vivid. Like muscle memory.
You're under him, delicate moans slipping from your lips.
The way your legs shook when he finally pushed all the way in— inch by inch— and the way your breath hitched in raw surprise.
The soft whimpers.
The way your body clenched so tightly around him like it never wanted to let go.
How you looked up at him like he was everything.
He remembers everything.
"Stop," Rin mutters to himself under his breath, dragging a palm down his face.
He sighs. Long. Aggravated. Frustrated.
He knows he should be focusing on enjoying his honeymoon phase. Go out to visit the most romantic places with you in the day and maybe make love to you later on—
But you're here. In his house. Smelling like HIS shampoo and soap and still walking around like you didn't just ruin him forever—
Fuck—
He peeks over the couch again.
You're stirring your tea. Calm. Smiling softly to yourself, like you're thinking about something stupid or mundane.
And Rin?
He wants to scream.
How are you so chill?
How are you not falling apart at every memory of his hands gripping your thighs, your body bouncing against his, the sound of skin meeting skin over and over again in the dark?
He remembers the way you cried when you came— arms tight around his neck, nails scraping down his back, your body spasming beneath him with the kind of pleasure that made him lose control.
He whispered your name over and over again against your mouth.
Now, every time he looks at you, it's all he sees.
Not just your smile. Not just your laugh.
But the way you looked right before you broke for him.
So when you finally walk back over with the tea, handing him a cup like nothing's wrong, he keeps starting at you with disbelief.
You blink.
"What?"
"...Nothing," he mutters.
You raise an eyebrow. "You're doing it again."
"...Doing what?"
"That thing where you stare at me like I did something illegal."
Rin looks away sharply.
"You did do something illegal."
You laugh.
"Oh? Like what?"
"You ruined me."
You choke on your tea."
You've been walking around like everything's normal. Like I'm still the same guy."
You stare at him over his teacup, innocently, while sipping your tea.
"Aren't you?"
He leans in, his voice raspier than he intends. "No. I'm not. I can't stop remembering the way you looked under me, how your voice sounded when you begged, the way you said my name like—"
You shove a pillow at his face, turning red. "Shut up! Oh my God—!"
He watches as you bury your face in the cushion, blushing like a furnace, your tea long forgotten.
And he moves.
Slowly.
Predator-like.
You sense it too late— your eyes peek out just as he's already leaned over the couch, hands on either side of your thighs, caging you in.
"Rin—" your voice is barely a breath. "Wh-what are you—"
"I told you," he murmurs, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth inches from yours, "I'm not the same after that night."
Your heart thuds.
"I can't think straight anymore. Not when you walk around like that night didn't wreck me."
You gulp, voice breaking. "I-It wrecked me too..."
"Did it?" His hand slips to your bare thigh, under his shirt, gripping it softly, his thumb brushing in circles. "Then why do you keep acting like you're okay? Like I'm not losing my mind remembering how tight you were around me?"
Your breath catches. He smiles. Darkly.
"I can't sleep. Can't look at your mouth without remembering what it looked like when you begged for more."
Your entire body tenses— heat flooding everywhere.
"And now you're over here... blushing like that... hiding your face like a virgin again..."
He pulls the pillow from your arms with one swift motion. You gasp, reaching for it but he catches your wrists, pinning them gently above your head on the couch cushion.
"I'm gonna remind you," he whispers, lips grazing your cheek, "exactly how it felt."
"Rin—wait—" you whisper, pulse racing. "We just— I didn't mean to—"
He kisses your cheek softly, then your jaw. His voice is low and dangerously gentle. "You said I was big... that you couldn't breathe when I looked down at you..." He moves his mouth to your ear. "I want you to feel that again."
You're breathless, barely holding yourself as his fingers trail down your spine. The air is heavy, warm, filled with the scent of your shampoo alone with his scent and something unspoken.
Rin hovers above you again— just like his wedding night.
Except this time, there's no hesitation in the way he moves. No restraint.
He doesn't take off your shirt, he loves it when you wears his clothes. So he just pulls down your underwear, along with his, while kissing yours lips softly. His forehead presses to yours as he breaks the kiss and he looks right into his eyes as he slides in again, slowly, making you whimper with the stretch.
His voice is hoarse with pleasure, low, broken. "You drive me insane..."
You dig your nails into his back, gasping. "Rin—"
He watches every twitch of your expressions, memorizing it like scripture.
"You feel like you were made for me..." he whispers, as he slowly starts to thrust deeper, his face flushed."
You know that, right? We both were only made for each other."
You can barely form words. "Rin, I— I can"t—"
He groans softly as you squeeze around him, body trembling from overstimulation.
"Yes, you can." He kisses your temple, then your cheek. "You did before. You'll do it again. Just let me take the control."
And you do.
You fall apart under him again— just like the first time.
And Rin?
He never stops looking at you.
Never stops kissing your lips, your neck, your shoulder, over and over like he's afraid you'll disappear.
Never stops whispering "mine" into your skin like a brand.
Later, when your head is resting on his chest, your legs are still tangled with his, he whispers, stroking your hair, "Let's go to Paris for our honeymoon."
You look up at him, surprised.
"Paris, suddenly?"
"Because it's the most romantic city," he murmurs.
You laugh, groggy. "I thought you didn't care about things like that."
"It's true," Rin says, quieter now. "But you wanted to visit together, so let's go"
You nuzzle into his chest. "But I don't wanna force you, so let's go somewhere you want to."
He wraps his arms around you tighter, closing his eyes.
"With you, everything feels better so I don't care where we go. Let's go to Paris."
in 2026, remember how GOOD writing feels. remember how satsfying it is to get your characters to the point you have been dying to get to, where they will experience the love, fear, relief or whatever the feeling you want to bring to life may be. let this year be the year of writing, prgress and of satisfactory endings.
cw ⋆⟢ MDNI, nsfw, pro-athlete!sae x physiotherapist fem!reader, power dynamics, cold dom!sae, somehow authority kink (again), obedience & compliance, intimidation/coercive tension, professional boundary crossing, groping, a bit of manhandling, rough sex, unprotected p in v w/ creampie, all characters are aged up!
the sterile scent of disinfectant and liniment clung to the air, a familiar backdrop to the quiet hum of the clinic. your hands moved with practiced ease over the taut landscape of sae itoshi's back. each glide of your thumbs, each press of your palm, was a testament to years of training, a meticulous dance of pressure and release designed to coax rebellion from overworked muscle fibers. you felt the subtle tremors beneath your touch, the ghost of old injuries, the lingering echo of brutal training.
he lay prone on the treatment table, his frame an elegant testament to discipline, every line of his body screaming controlled power even in repose. his hair, damp from a recent shower, clung to his forehead, and you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. the silence between you was a thick, palpable thing, broken only by your own even breathing and the occasional rustle of the linen sheet.
your job was not just about physical restoration, but about navigating the intricate, often volatile, personalities of elite athletes. sae itoshi was a challenge, a finely tuned instrument that demanded nothing less than perfection. he rarely spoke, but his presence was a constant, sharp observation. you felt his gaze on you even when his eyes were closed, a prickle of awareness that made your movements even more precise, your focus even more absolute. he watched you, you knew, assessing every flicker of your expression, every minute adjustment of your grip.
"lower," he murmured, his voice a low, resonant rumble that seemed to vibrate through the table and into your fingertips.
it wasn't a request. it was an order.
you adjusted, applying more pressure to the knot just below his shoulder blade, working it with a slow, deliberate motion. your breath hitched almost imperceptibly as your fingers brushed against the warm, smooth skin of his spine. you felt his breath deepen beneath your touch, a subtle shift that indicated either discomfort or… something else. either way, you couldn't tell. sae was a fortress.
"again," he commanded, the single word a whip-crack that demanded immediate obedience. you repeated the motion, delving deeper, feeling the muscle finally begin to yield under your sustained effort.
the sessions were always like this. clinical, almost surgical in their precision. your hands, your expertise, were tools he utilized, and he expected them to function flawlessly. he never offered praise, but the absence of complaint was, in itself, a form of affirmation. his instructions were sparse, always delivered with that same clipped authority, each one landing like a stone dropping into still water, creating ripples of tension you had to suppress.
there were moments, though, when the professional veneer threatened to crack. like the time your fingers lingered a fraction too long on the curve of his hip, just above the waistband of his shorts, or when your breath hitched in a small, involuntary gasp, as you stretched his hamstring to its absolute limit. he'd noticed, of course. he always noticed. his gaze, when he finally opened his eyes, was like a laser, dissecting your composure, testing the limits of your professionalism. you learned to keep your reactions locked down, to maintain the impassive mask that was your professional armor.
today, however, was different.
you were working now on his quads, guiding his leg through a series of controlled stretches. his muscles were tight, almost painfully so, resistant to your efforts. you felt the strain in your own arms, the slow burn as you pushed against his unyielding strength.
"you're pushing too hard, sae," you said, your voice calm but firm. "you'll pull something."
he paused, his leg suspended mid-air, held by your hands. his eyes slowly opened, fixing on yours. the intensity in them was immediate, a cold, dangerous glint that sent a shiver down your spine.
"i know my body," he stated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "continue."
"no," you countered, your own resolve hardening. "not like this. we need to ease into it. if you don't relax, i can't properly stretch the muscle. you're going to injure yourself further."
a beat of silence stretched between you, taut as a bowstring. his jaw was clenched, a muscle twitching almost imperceptibly. his gaze didn't waver, burning into you, challenging you.
then, his voice, low and deliberate, cut through the quiet. "don't make me repeat myself."
the words were a warning, a dismissal of your professional judgment, a direct challenge to your authority in your own domain. your stomach clenched, a mix of frustration and something akin to fear. this wasn't just about a muscle strain anymore. this was about control.
"i won't continue if you're going to be an idiot," you retorted, your voice sharper than you intended. you released his leg, letting it fall gently back onto the table. "my job is to prevent injury, not facilitate it. you can either cooperate, or we can end the session here."
his eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. for a long moment, he simply stared, his expression unyielding, his body coiled with a barely contained energy. you met his gaze, refusing to back down, your heart hammering against your ribs.
then, almost imperceptibly, his body relaxed. the tension in his leg eased. "fine," he bit out, the word clipped and laced with a grudging surrender. "do what you want."
that was when the power dynamic had shifted, sharpened. every subsequent session became a subtle negotiation, a dance of wills disguised as treatment. he pushed, you resisted, he commanded, you found ways to assert your own expertise without overtly defying him. he tested your limits, not just physically, but mentally, watching your reactions with an unnerving intensity. it was discipline disguised as recovery, his hunger contained beneath that immaculate restraint. and you realized, with a growing unease, that he thrived on the friction. he wanted you to push back. he wanted you to challenge him, just so he could assert his dominance.
later that day, the clinic was deserted. the hum of the fluorescent lights the only sound in the late evening quiet. you were tidying up, wiping down tables. the clinic's main doors were locked, the security system armed. you were the last one left, or so you thought.
a shadow detached itself from the deeper darkness near the reception desk, and your breath caught in your throat. before you could think or react, you saw him, sae itoshi, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze already fixed on you.
he hadn't left.
"sae," you said, your voice coming out a little breathier than you would have liked. "what are you still doing here? i thought you had gone home."
he pushed off the wall, moving with that predatory grace you'd come to associate with him. he didn't answer your question directly. instead, he simply walked towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. the air crackled with an unspoken tension, thick and suffocating.
you felt your heart begin to pound, a frantic rhythm against your ribs. your palms grew slick with sweat as he kept coming until he was just inches away, his towering frame eclipsing the sterile lights, casting you in his shadow.
"you're good at what you do," he said, his voice a low, rough murmur. "you're precise. you're thorough. and you don't break."
his words were not a compliment, not really. they were an observation, a calculated assessment. you swallowed hard, unable to look away from the intense scrutiny in his eyes.
"i have to be," you managed, your voice a whisper.
"and you resist," he continued, his gaze dropping to your mouth, then back up to your eyes. "i like that."
he reached out, his fingers brushing against your jawline, a feather-light touch that nonetheless sent a jolt through your entire body. his thumb tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze fully. his eyes were dark, almost black in the dim light, and filled with an undeniable hunger.
"you challenge me," he said, his voice dropping another notch, a low growl that resonated deep within your core. "you push back. but you always listen. you always do what i tell you to do, eventually."
your breath hitched.
he was right. you had pushed back, but ultimately, under his unwavering gaze, you had always complied.
"sae…" you started, a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control, but the word died on your lips as he leaned in, his scent filling your senses.
"shut up," he breathed, his lips brushing against yours, a tantalizing whisper of what was to come. "i don't want to hear you talk right now."
and then his mouth was on yours, a brutal, demanding kiss that stole your breath and obliterated any lingering thoughts of resistance. his hands moved from your jaw to cup the back of your head, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. you could feel the hard planes of his chest, the solid muscle of his thighs pressing against yours.
your hands, almost instinctively, found purchase on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt. you felt the subtle tremors in his body, mirroring the frantic pounding of your own heart. his tongue traced the seam of your lips, demanding entry, and you, helpless against the sheer force of his will, parted them. he plunged in, his tongue tangling with yours in a fierce, possessive dance.
he pulled back, just enough for you to gasp for air, his eyes still burning into yours. "now," he murmured, the words a rough caress. "be a good girl and take off your shirt."
the command was absolute, leaving no room for argument. your fingers, trembling slightly, went to the buttons of your blouse. he watched, unwavering, as you slowly unfastened each one, the fabric falling open to reveal the lace of your bra beneath. your cheeks flushed with heat under his intense scrutiny.
"faster," he grunted, his voice laced with impatience.
you fumbled with the last button, pulling the shirt free and letting it drop to the floor. he didn't move, just watched, his eyes devouring every inch of exposed skin. your chest rose and fell rapidly, your nipples already tight and aching under his gaze.
"turn around," he commanded.
you obeyed, your back to him, the vulnerability of the position making your breath catch. his hands were on your hips in an instant, strong and possessive, pulling you flush against his front. you felt the hard ridge of his erection pressing against your backside, a sudden, undeniable proof of his desire, and a whimper escaped your lips.
"you like that, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "feeling me hard against you."
he moved his hips, a slow, deliberate grind that made you arch your back into him. your hands instinctively reached back, gripping his forearms, holding on for dear life.
"s-sae…" you whimpered again, the sound raw and desperate.
"don't talk," he growled, his voice rough with hunger. "just feel."
his hands moved from your hips, sliding up your sides, teasing the sensitive skin beneath your arms, until they cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the lace of your bra. a gasp tore from your throat, sharp and choked.
"fuck," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "you're so fucking sensitive."
he squeezed gently, his thumbs continuing their torment, and you cried out, a soft, desperate moan that echoed in the quiet. he pulled you tighter against him, his hips grinding into yours again, harder this time.
your legs felt weak, your knees threatening to buckle. you leaned back against him, your head falling back onto his shoulder, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and burgeoning lust.
"please, sae," you begged, the words barely audible. "i… i can't…"
"i said no talking."
his hands moved down, expertly unhooking your bra and letting it fall. he then slid them lower, reaching for the waistband of your pants. you gasped as his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your lower back, then dipped lower, hooking into the fabric.
"take them off," he ordered in a gravelly whisper. "now."
your hands, still shaking, fumbled with the button and zipper of your pants. he didn't help, simply watched, eyes burning into your every move. you pushed your pants down, shrugging them past your hips, until they pooled around your ankles. you stepped out of them, leaving you in just your small panties.
he turned you around then, his hands firm on your shoulders, pushing you gently until your back was against the cool metal of one of the treatment tables. you looked up at him, your eyes wide and pleading, but there was no mercy in his gaze, only raw desire.
"get on the table," he commanded, his voice low and unwavering.
you hesitated for a fraction of a second, your mind screaming at you to resist, but your body was already obeying. you hoisted yourself onto the table, your bare legs dangling over the side.
he stood between your legs, hands gripping your thighs, pushing them wider apart. you felt the cool air against your exposed skin, the vulnerability of the position making you tremble. his gaze dropped to your panties, then to the wetness already blooming there.
"wet for me already," he observed, his voice a low growl. "good."
he reached down, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, and with a single, decisive tug, he ripped them off, tossing them aside. you gasped, your hips instinctively arching, core clenching in anticipation.
he stepped back for a moment, his eyes still fixed on you, and you watched, mesmerized, as he unzipped his own pants, his erection springing free, thick and throbbing. it was even bigger than you had imagined, a dark, intimidating column of flesh that made your breath catch in your throat.
"open your legs wider," he commanded.
you obeyed, spreading your legs further, exposing yourself completely to his gaze. he stepped closer again, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you to the edge of the table.
"look at me," he ordered, eyes locking with yours. "look at what you do to me."
he brought himself closer, the swollen tip of his cock brushing against your slick folds, a hot, insistent pressure that made you whimper.
"please," you whimpered, hips bucking up, desperate for the release he was teasing.
"stay still." he growled, squeezing your hip.
he pushed just the tip inside, a slow, agonizing slide that made you cry out and dig your nails into the cool metal of the table.
"too much?" he asked, his voice laced with mock concern. "or not enough?"
"more," you gasped, your voice thick with tears and lust. "please, sae, more."
he pulled back slightly, then pushed in deeper, a deliberate invasion that stretched and filled you until he was buried to the hilt. a ragged scream tore from your throat, a mix of pain and pleasure.
"tight," he grunted, his body tensing, his hands gripping your hips like a vice.
he held still for a moment, letting you adjust, letting your body accommodate his size. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him.
"move," you pleaded, your voice raw, tears streaming down your face. "please, move."
he started to move then, a slow, powerful thrust, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back in, each stroke deeper, harder, faster than the last. the rhythm was primal, relentless, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
"fuck, yes," he groaned, his breath coming in ragged gasps, face strained with effort and pleasure. "that's it. fucking take it."
you whimpered, moaned, cried out his name, a desperate litany of sounds as your body bucked and writhed beneath him. your nails raked across his back, leaving angry red marks, but he didn't seem to notice or care. his only focus was on you, on the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, on the sounds of your surrender.
"sae! sae, i'm… oh, god, i'm gonna—," you choked out, your voice barely audible.
he intensified his thrusts, slamming into you with a brutal efficiency that sent shockwaves through your entire being. "come for me," he commanded, his voice a guttural roar. "let me feel it."
and then, with another shattering thrust, you broke. your body convulsed around him, a violent, uncontrollable orgasm that ripped through you, leaving you gasping and trembling. your cries filled the empty clinic, a raw, uninhibited sound of release.
he groaned, a deep, primal sound that vibrated through your core, and then, with a final, powerful thrust, he spilled himself deep inside you, his body tensing, his head thrown back in silent ecstasy. he collapsed onto you, his heavy weight pressing you into the table, breath hot against your neck.
for a long moment, neither of you moved, only the ragged sound of your breathing filling the silence. his body was still hard inside you, a warm, heavy weight. you lay there, spent, trembling, your body humming with the aftershocks of your shared climax.
he finally stirred, pushing himself up slightly, eyes still closed. he looked down at you, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, a possessive glint in their depths.
"see?" he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion and satisfaction. "you always do what i tell you to do."
23 wishes ⋆⟢ one character. one fantasy. every day until i'm 23 <3
your very first morning waking up in sae's arms comes with an unexpected surprise! reader x sae itoshi <3 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡
the very first morning you woke up in sae's arms was a morning you never wanted to forget. you distinctly remember the hotel's bedsheets being tinged with the fragrance of something floral mixed with sae's faint cologne, and the natural symphony of the waves crashing outside from the open balcony window along with the glittering sunlight that streamed into the room only made the moment even more perfect.
sae had begun the morning by pressing a number of soft kisses sleepily onto your shoulder blades as he slowly rouse from his slumber, so it was only natural for you to turn around and greet him good morning, right?
the appalled gasp that tore from your lips had sae's eyes fluttering open in confusion, and the sight of your wide eyed gaze and hand pressed against your mouth had him immediately sitting up in concern
"what's wrong?" he questions, voice gravelly and deep with sleep as his palm reaches out to settle against your waist
"uhm... nothing!" you manage to choke out. sae blinks slowly, not catching on to what could have provoked such a reaction from you—but when your gaze accidentally moves up for a split second—his own eyes slightly widen in mild horror as he remembered just what his hair looked like in the morning.
the usual styled and gelled hair you were so used to seeing was now a soft but absolutely wild mess on top of his head—it seemed like the pink tufts were defying gravity itself with the way they stuck up in just about every direction possible. his usual updo was also completely gone, with his bangs instead falling softly against his forehead in thick tufts.
despite the tousled and disheveled look that was a far cry from sae's usual composed appearance, the sight in front of you was oddly endearing. unfortunately for you, sae immediately pulls his blanket up and over his head, muttering an angry string of profanities under his breath as you wince
"sae! i'm sorry, i was just a bit surprised, i promise! i've never seen your hair so... uhm—" you cut yourself off with a muffled laugh as sae tightens the blanket around his head
"you weren't supposed to see me like this... go back to sleep and tell yourself this was all a dream while i get myself ready in the bathroom."
you laugh louder, but only because he was dead serious. once your laughter subsides, you carefully rise on wobbly legs off the bed. the sleeve of sae's shirt shifts off your shoulder a bit from the movement, but you don't bother to fix it as you hover over him and gently tug the blanket off of his form
thankfully, sae doesn't protest. you crawl back onto the bed once you manage to peel off all the constricting fabric in your way before carefully pulling his head into your lap, placing a flurry of kisses onto the slope of his hairline. he flinches after the first press of your lips against him, but eventually, sae relaxes in your hold with a barely perceptible scowl plastered onto his face.
"i can't believe you saw me like this. so tepid." he grumbles as you smile softly, threading a hand through his locks and carefully parting the hair—a fruitless attempt to tame it, unfortunately.
"sae, i promise the sight of you like this isn't tepid or lukewarm, or whatever it is you're always saying. everyone's hair is a bit of a mess in the morning, so please don't feel embarrassed—"
"i am not embarrassed—"
"—and please don't think you have to put up a front with me like you do with everyone else! i don't want you to go style your hair right now, i want you relax just as you are. so, please lay back down." you huff, and sae remains silent. he seems to be deep in thought, brows pinching together and lips slightly pursed as he drew mindless circles on your knee before ultimately heaving a sigh
"...fine. i'll stay."
he's too embarssed to thank you for making him feel more human than machine, so instead, sae will call the hotel receptionist when you finally do get out of bed to use the restroom and order every breakfast item they have on the menu (it's because he doesn't know which one'll be your favorite, this is his first time waking up with you, after all), he'll allow you to brush his hair, shampoo it, blow-dry it, play with it—whatever it is you want to do because he tolerates you, and only because he tolerates you.
and maybe he'll even offer you a kiss on the lips for... well, that one would just be because he wants to kiss you.
