K a m 𓂃۶ৎ

kaiser rubs all his anger on you due to his past ♡.

KAISER always been a brilliant on the field, untouchable in his stride, but behind closed doors, he was a storm barely held together. you knew he had a past, one he rarely spoke about, but you never expected to become the outlet for pain that wasn’t yours. every slammed door, every cold shoulder, every insult that tasted like resentment. all of it chipped away at the person you once fell in love with. his anger didn’t come in explosions, it came in waves. sharp, unpredictable, and exhausting. when he looked at you during arguments, it felt like he wasn’t seeing you, but someone else entirely... someone he hated. you wanted to reach out, to soften him, but every time you tried, he pulled further back, until silence was safer than truth. and still, he remained obsessed with winning, with perfection, as if that would finally fix the boy who was never loved right.

you tried to be patient, tried to understand where it all came from. his childhood was a landmine of broken glass, an alcoholic father who never needed a reason to beat him, a mother who vanished before he even learned how to pronounce her name. no matter what he did as a kid, no matter how many wallets he stole or grades he manipulated... nothing stopped the bruises or the screams. and so kaiser learned to survive by becoming untouchable, unbeatable. Love, to him, was a dangerous thing, too soft, too fragile, too close. he didn’t know how to hold you gently without remembering the hands that hurt him, and when life pressed down on him too hard, when he lost a game, when pressure mounted... it was you. he snapped at. because deep down, he didn’t believe he deserved your love, and hurting you made that belief feel justified.

“You think I care about this?” he’d hiss, eyes sharp as steel after another match where he didn’t score as he should’ve. “You think you matter when I’ve got the entire world to crush beneath my boot?” It wasn’t really about you, never was. but the words hit their mark. he wouldn’t look at you, jaw clenched, voice biting. all you’d done was ask if he was okay, if he needed anything. but love, to kaiser, often felt like a trap. and when his anger flared, all the walls he built to protect himself crumbled, and he lashed out, using you as a shield against the pain he never processed.

at night, he’d lay beside you without a word, his back turned, his body tense. sometimes he’d whisper apologies in his sleep, his voice so broken it made your chest ache. but in the daylight, you missed the version of him who smiled, not the one on posters, but the one who kissed you softly before games. now, his kisses were quick, routine, an afterthought. the warmth he used to give now flickered like a dying light. and still, you stayed, wondering if the boy beneath all that fire still wanted to be loved.

he rarely spoke of his father, but when he did, his voice went hollow. “Nothing I did was ever enough,” he once said, his knuckles white against the glass in his hand. “he beat me just for existing. and she... she left me with him like I was some fucking problem she didn’t want.” that night, he drank more than usual, and when you tried to take the bottle away, he flinched—then shouted. not because of the drink, but because your touch startled him, reminded him of a time when touch meant pain. he apologized an hour later, his voice raw, but the damage lingered in the space between you. and still, he wouldn’t let go of the anger, it was the only thing he’d ever had control over.

you became good at reading the signs. when to speak, when to stay quiet, when to step away. but it wore you down, chipped away at your confidence. you began to ask yourself if love was supposed to feel like this. tight-chested, cautious, desperate for scraps of affection. you missed the feeling of being chosen, not just kept. kaiser noticed, in moments of clarity, how far you were drifting. but he didn’t know how to pull you back without first tearing down every wall he’d ever built. and to do that, he’d have to face the very thing he’d buried his whole life.. his past.

And yet…there were nights when you saw glimpses of the man he could be. his arms around you after nightmares, trembling hands gripping your shirt as if afraid you’d disappear. “Don’t leave me,” he’d whisper into your hair, voice cracking with fear. and in those moments, you understood, he wasn’t angry at you, but terrified you’d leave like everyone else had. his past had taught him that love was conditional, that softness was dangerous, and so he struck first. you held him through those storms, even when you were the one drenched. but love, real love, was patient...and you hadn’t given up.

The argument started like all the others, sharp words flung like daggers over nothing. a misplaced comment. a tired sigh. a look he misread as disappointment. but tonight was different. tonight, something inside him cracked. “you’re always looking at me like I’m about to break,” he snapped, pacing the living room like an animal, hands running through his golden hair in frustration. “like I’m some project you’re trying to fix.. newsflash, I’m not broken. I’m just like this. I have to be like this. If I’m not, I lose everything that makes me… me.”

You tried to stay calm, but your voice wavered. “I don’t think you’re broken, michael. I think you’re hurting, and you won’t let me help.” That only made him angrier. His eyes burned, not with rage this time, but with panic. “no. no, don’t start with that ‘help’ shit,” he snapped, voice loud, but not cruel... desperate. “you don’t get it. no one fucking helped me when I needed it. you know what I got? a fist to the face. a bottle thrown across the room. silence. and if I cried? If I showed I needed anything? that just gave him more of a reason to beat the shit out of me. so I learned to shut up. I learned to win. that’s all that ever mattered.”

He finally stopped pacing, standing in front of you, breathing hard, eyes wild. “you think I don’t want to be better for you? you think I don’t hear myself when I’m yelling and wish I could stop? you think I like seeing you flinch when I raise my voice? but I don’t know how to stop. no one ever taught me. I grew up thinking pain meant someone saw you. that anger was safer than sadness. that silence was better than being left behind. and now you’re here... trying to love me! and I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.” His voice cracked, and he turned away, fists clenched at his sides. “I’m not good at this. I’m not good at being soft.”

You stood, slowly walking over to him, reaching out... but not touching, not yet. “then talk to me, kaiser. not like I’m your enemy. not like I’m someone else from your past. talk to me. your wife. the person who stays. even when you push. even when you hurt.” that word made him flinch. Hurt. because deep down, he knew. and that was when it hit him, harder than any blow his father ever gave, that he was doing the very thing he swore he’d never become.

His voice dropped low, thick with something between shame and grief. “I hate him so fucking much,” he whispered. “I hated the way he smelled like whiskey and failure. I hated the sound of his footsteps because it meant something was coming... something bad. I hated how he blamed me for her leaving, how he said I ruined everything just by being born. and I hate that no matter how far I run, he still finds a way into my head.” He laughed bitterly. “do you know what that does to a kid? knowing he was never wanted? knowing his own parents left scars that still bleed even when no one’s touching them?”

Tears filled his eyes, but he didn’t wipe them. he just stared at you, face broken wide open, no longer the emperor... just a boy who wanted to be loved but didn’t know how to accept it. “I don’t know how to love you without hurting you,” he said, voice hoarse. “but I want to. I want to try. I’m just… so fucking scared. That if I let go of all this anger, I won’t have anything left. that you’ll see the real me. the scared, abandoned little boy I buried years ago... and you’ll leave too.” His breathing hitched, eyes glassy. “and I wouldn’t survive that. not you. anyone else, fine. but not you.”

You stepped closer, cupped his face gently, thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “I see that boy already,” you whispered. “and I’m still here.” He didn’t move, didn’t speak, but his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him like he was afraid you might vanish. his body trembled. his forehead rested against your shoulder. For the first time in years, Michael Kaiser let himself cry. not in secret. not out of sight. but in your arms. shaking, gasping, holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

rin is desperate and needy for you <𝟑 .ᐟ

Rin wasn’t used to needing someone like this, not in the way he needed you. It was maddening, the way your voice lingered in his mind, your touch imprinted on his skin. everytime you were near, his body reacted before his mind could catch up, cock twitching in his pants, breath going shallow. he’d spend nights curled in his sheets, rutting into his palm like a teenager, muttering your name into the dark like a creep.. but nothing ever satisfied him the way you did. he didn’t want just release. he wanted to lose himself in you completely, drown in your touch, beg for your attention like a man starved. and when he finally had you again, rin was trembling with want, standing in your doorway like he might break if you didn’t touch him right that second.

He was on you the moment you shut the door behind him, lips against your neck, hands sliding beneath your shirt. "please," he whispered between kisses, breath warm and shaky, "I need you so bad, I can’t think anymore." His fingers trembled as he pushed your clothes off, eyes glazed over with hunger, lips swollen from how hard he was kissing you. you guided him to the bed, and he followed like he was under a spell, already rutting against your thigh, groaning at the friction. "I’ve been hard since practice, I kept thinking about your mouth, your hands—fuck," he hissed, nuzzling into your skin. His voice cracked on the last word, like the tension had been building for days, and he couldn’t take a second more of waiting. "touch me, please—I can’t take it."

You didn’t answer him with words, just pushed him onto the bed and straddled his hips, pulling his pants down to expose his cock.. red, aching, leaking at the tip. he whimpered at the cold air, already desperate for your heat, hips bucking up uncontrollably. "look at you," you murmured, wrapping a hand around him, "falling apart before I’ve even done anything." you said. as rin moaned at your touch, thighs trembling, his entire body taut with arousal. his hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white, as if the only thing keeping him grounded was your hand on his cock. "don’t tease," he begged, voice rough and broken, "I’ll cum too fast.. please, just let me be inside you." his desperation dripped from every word, and his cock twitched in your grip, as if agreeing with him.

You lined yourself up and sank down onto him slowly, watching his eyes roll back and mouth drop open in a soundless moan. his hands reached for you instantly, clutching at your waist, pulling you closer like he was afraid you’d disappear. "so warm—so tight—fuck, fuck," he gasped, already shaking beneath you. his thighs were tense, hips jerking upward in tiny stutters as if he couldn’t help himself. "don’t stop—please—I need this," he choked, his voice cracking like he was falling apart from the inside out. you started to move, slow and deep, and rin’s entire body shuddered violently under you. "I’m gonna lose it," he whimpered.

Every roll of your hips made him moan louder, less controlled, his hands sliding helplessly up your back, needing more. he looked absolutely wrecked.. hair messy, face flushed, cock twitching inside you as he tried to hold back. "faster," he begged, breathless and fucked out, "please, please, just don’t stop." His words tumbled out in desperate gasps, and you could feel how close he was, how his whole body was tightening with need. "Let me cum in you," he cried, practically sobbing now, "I need to—need to feel you—fuck, I’ll die if I don’t." His hips jerked up again, deeper, sloppier,"rin— fuck." you moaned, every thrust made him cry out louder. "I can’t—can’t hold it—please tell me I can cum."

You leaned down and kissed him, swallowing his moans, letting him shake under you as your hips slammed down harder. "not yet," you whispered into his mouth, and rin nearly sobbed, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "please, I’m begging.. I can’t—please let me," he whined, tears streaming freely now, the pleasure so intense it blurred into pain. you kept fucking him through it, watching him unravel, loving the way he twitched and trembled beneath your touch. "You want to cum that badly?" you taunted, and he nodded frantically, unable to form words anymore. his lips were parted, gasping with every thrust, his body arching as he tried to chase the edge. "say who you belong to," you demanded, grinding down hard.

"I-I belong to you," he cried out, eyes rolling back as he surrendered, "only you—fuck, I’m yours." you finally gave him permission, and rin shattered, cumming with a guttural moan as his entire body bucked up violently. hot, thick pulses filled you, and he kept cumming, groaning with each twitch, tears sliding down his cheeks. you didn’t stop moving, milking every drop out of him, even as he writhed and sobbed under you. "too much—too much—fuck, I can’t," he gasped, voice wrecked and desperate. but his cock stayed hard, overstimulated and still twitching, and you knew he wasn’t done yet. “don’t stop,” he whispered, completely wrecked, “Please, I want more.”

You kept fucking him slowly, dragging out every broken moan and shaky gasp from his lips, watching his body writhe beneath you. his thighs shook uncontrollably, cock still throbbing inside you as if he was already hard again. he was a mess—sweaty, flushed, crying, babbling soft pleas into your neck like he couldn’t take being apart from you for even a second. "You ruin me," he breathed, voice hoarse, and you felt his nails dig into your skin like he was clinging to life. "No one makes me feel like this, no one," he whispered, kissing your shoulder through his tears."I need you more than anything." and you knew.. he wasn’t just desperate for your body, he was desperate for you.

sae seeing his wife in sports clothes. which tempted him ♡ #nsfw

The boardroom was filled with voices, but sae sat in silence, his fingers drumming once against the table before curling into a loose fist. His eyes were sharp, cold, and narrowed as one of the staff members pitched a new brand campaign he didn’t care about. every word grated against his ears, another brick in the mental wall he built just to get through the day. the training earlier had already left his muscles tight, his patience thinner than usual. his responses were clipped, his posture still, his jaw set in that signature expressionless calm that his teammates recognized as dangerous. no one dared interrupt him when he stood without a word and left the room once his presence was no longer required. the car ride home was silent too, as the Cherry Blossom trees blurred past the window.

When he stepped into the apartment, the cool air greeted him first, and then came the scent of lemon, eucalyptus, and something distinctly you. his duffel hit the ground without care as he loosened the zipper of his jacket and tugged it off, tossing it to the side. he noticed the faint sound of a playlist echoing from the kitchen, something rhythmic, slow, with just enough bass to vibrate softly through the floor. As he walked in, sae caught the curve of your waist before he saw the rest of you standing near the counter in just a black sports bra and leggings, your body glistening faintly with sweat, a bottle of water in hand. as you was facing away, head tilted back as you drunk, unaware of the storm you'd just walked into. his gaze dropped to the arch of your spine, the slight sway of your hips, and then lower... dragging slowly, deliberately. the ice in his veins cracked with heat.

you turned then, sensing him, your lips still damp from the bottle. "you’re back," you said simply, voice light, but your eyes traced the tension in his shoulders and the tightness in his jaw. sae didn’t respond right away. he stared for a moment longer, like he was trying to memorize the exact position of every inch of your skin. then he moved forward, slow but purposeful, his baggy training pants hanging low on his hips as his hand reached out to graze your waist. “take it off,” he said quietly, eyes locked on yours. not angry. just… done.

you blinked, then smirked slowly, raising the bottle for another sip as you tilted your head in innocence. “What, this?” you teased, fingers hooking into the hem of your bra but not lifting it. sae stepped in closer, his hand sliding up your spine until his palm was flat between your shoulder blades, pressing you gently back against the edge of the counter. His mouth was on yours before you could speak again... hungry, rough, consuming. your water bottle clattered to the floor as he lifted her onto the countertop with ease, sliding between your thighs, tongue tracing the inside of you, his other hand dipped beneath the band of her leggings, fingers sliding low, slow, until your teasing melted into breathless sounds. he needed to feel something real after the artificial hell of meetings and polite lies.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and sae leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against yours. His breath came hard, warm against your mouth, and you felt the tremble in his hands even as they moved with practiced confidence. “hm, tiring day?” you whispered against his lips, though the answer was already pressed hard against your thigh. he kissed you again instead of answering, this time slower.. deeper, more grounded, as if to anchor himself in her warmth. when his hands finally peeled the leggings down, your skin was soft and slick with heat, thighs parting in silent invitation. he dropped to his knees without a word, sliding his hands beneath your thighs, pulling you forward. "s-sae!" you gasped, your fingers threading into his hair, all traces of teasing gone.

Sae didn’t rush, he was always precise, even when starved. his tongue moved slowly, deliberately, with the same focus he gave to a final goal strike. you moaned, arching into his mouth, and he gripped you hips tighter, refusing to let you escape the waves he built with every movement. his mind quieted for the first time that day, the chaotic noise of the world replaced by the sound of you falling apart for him. when you came, he didn’t stop right away, kept going until you trembled and tugged at his hair, whispering pleas through half-formed words. only then did he rise, licking his lips, his eyes darker now.. less ice, more storm. “Bend over,” he said lowly, voice like velvet dragged over steel.

you obeyed, chest pressing to the cool marble, legs still weak from the way he’d unraveled you. sae pushed down his sweats just enough, sliding a hand along your back as he lined himself up. there was no hesitation when he pushed into you, slow at first, just enough to make you feel the stretch—the deep, desperate need he'd held back all day. "mm.." you closed your eyes, one hand gripping the edge of the counter, the other reaching back for his wrist, grounding yourself in him. He didn’t speak, just groaned softly against your shoulder, thrusting into you with growing urgency. the sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the room, matched only by your whimpers and the low growl in his throat. every thrust was a release, every grip of your hips a reminder that you were the only person who got to see him like this, unmasked, hungry, real.

by the time he spilled into you, sae was panting, forehead pressed to the back of your neck, hand tangled in yours on the counter. their bodies stayed connected for a long moment, breaths syncing, sweat clinging to skin. he pulled you gently back into his arms afterward, resting against the fridge, your body curled into his like you belonged there, and you did. your fingers tracing his jaw. he didn’t answer immediately, just kissed the side of your face, his grip tightening slightly around your waist. "Only with you," he murmured. the day melted behind him like it never existed.

Ness becomes you're good boy. ♡ #nsfw

Alexis Ness looked beautiful tied down like this, arms stretched above his head, cuffs biting gently into pale wrists, thighs spread wide and trembling from overuse. sweat clung to his chest in slick patches, skin flushed a delicate pink from the endless waves of touch he’d been subjected to. his cock twitched uselessly against his stomach, leaking pathetically, already spent but still hard, still needy. you hadn’t let him rest, not even after he’d cried through the last orgasm, voice cracking from how many times he’d moaned your name. you crouched between his legs, lips swollen, fingers soaked with both your wetness and his, admiring the way he tried to pull away even while pushing into every touch. the ropes kept him honest.. kept him yours. he was a masterpiece of ruin, and you weren’t nearly finished with him.

You leaned down, breath ghosting over the head of his cock, and smiled when he whimpered in anticipation. “still sensitive?” you teased softly, dragging a fingertip along the slit.. watching his hips try to buck and fail. His whole body jolted, torn between trying to escape and begging for more, his muscles clenching as his breath hitched in broken gasps. “please, mommy.” he choked, voice hoarse, “I-I can’t… not again…” but you didn’t stop. your hand wrapped around him with practiced ease, stroking slowly, mercilessly, making his thighs shake harder as he cried out. his back arched helplessly, cock twitching with overstimulation as his whole body trembled beneath your grip. “you don’t get to decide when it’s over,” you whispered, lips brushing his ear.

He was already wrecked, but you were far from satisfied. his lashes fluttered, barely able to keep his eyes open, jaw slack as he moaned helplessly into the air. the more you touched him, the more undone he became, sliding further out of his head with each drawn-out stroke, each press of your mouth against his chest, his stomach, his inner thigh. “I-I’m gonna—” he started, but you pulled your hand away just in time, smiling as he sobbed from the denial. his body trembled like a violin string left straining under too much pressure. “not yet,” you said sweetly, brushing his hair from his sweat-damp forehead. “you’re not even close to done for me.”

His head rolled to the side, tears slipping freely now, and he looked like he didn’t know whether to beg or scream. “you’re so cruel,” he whispered, and you laughed, kissing the corner of his mouth. “you love it.” and he did, his body gave him away, always. the way his cock twitched with every denied climax, the way his legs spread wider for you even when they shook, the way his lips mouthed your name even as he pleaded for mercy. you settled between his legs again, licking a stripe up his length that made him sob. He was so sensitive now that even the warmth of your breath made him twitch. “you’re gonna give me everything,” you purred. “no matter how many times it takes.”

You slid your fingers down to his hole, already slick and twitching from earlier touches, and began circling it with maddening softness. Ness gasped, eyes wide with panic and lust, shaking his head weakly even as he pushed into the touch. “no, no, I c-can’t—please—” but his cock told a different story, still leaking, still hard, still begging for more even if his voice said otherwise. “your body’s such a liar,” you whispered, sliding one finger inside with ease, and he cried out, full and broken. “you say you can’t… but you take everything I give you.” you moved your hand faster, stroking his cock with your other hand as you fingered him, watching the way he dissolved under your touch. “look at you.. soaked and shaking, and still aching for it.”

He was almost silent now—just whimpers and ragged breaths, his throat too raw from crying out. you could see the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, glistening as his body bucked helplessly beneath you, desperate for an end he knew you wouldn’t give yet. you leaned over him, licking the tears off his cheek, dragging your tongue down his neck as he moaned like a sinner in prayer. “you’re so fucking handsome when you break,” you whispered, sinking your teeth into his shoulder just hard enough to mark him. He was babbling now.. nonsense words, pleas, your name over and over like it might save him. “one more,” you promised. “you’ll give me one more.” and he nodded, like he had no control anymore, like he was yours in every sense of the word.

You changed the angle—slow, deep strokes of your fingers now, rubbing against that spot inside him that made him thrash in the ropes. his cock jumped, leaking more with every moan, every soft grunt of your name. he was flushed all the way down his chest now, abs flexing under your mouth as you kissed your way lower. his thighs twitched with overstimulation, but you held them down, tongue circling the head of his cock before you slid it into your mouth again. he screamed, loud and broken, hips lifting off the bed before slamming back down as you sucked him mercilessly. you tasted everything—his release, his desperation, the way he shattered with every pass of your tongue. you didn’t stop. not until he was crying from it.

When he came again, because of course he did.. it was silent at first. just a sharp inhale, a full-body twitch, and then a sob as his cock pulsed in your mouth one more time, his whole body trembling violently as he let go. you swallowed it all, licking him clean even as he whimpered from the overstimulation, eyes shut tight, lips parted in breathless ruin. you finally let go of him, sitting up and dragging your fingers down his stomach, smearing the mess across his flushed skin. “that’s it,” you whispered, stroking his thigh gently. “just like that.” he couldn’t speak, just nodded weakly, dazed and raw and glowing in his ruin. you leaned down, kissing his temple. “you did so well for me.”

He was still twitching, his breath catching every few seconds, but the panic had faded from his eyes, replaced by glassy contentment. you gently loosened the cuffs on his wrists, rubbing his arms where the rope had pressed into the skin. He sighed, soft and small, almost grateful... and let you guide his hands to your shoulders as you climbed up to lie beside him. “you still with me?” you whispered, brushing his damp hair back. he nodded again, pressing his face into your neck, clinging to you like he was scared to float away. “i’ve got you,” you said. “you’re safe now.” and he believed you.. because even when you wrecked him, you always put him back together again. "you're turn."

rin's inner collapse leads to a desperate need for control ♡ #nsfw

Rin Itoshi hadn’t smiled in weeks—not the kind that reached his eyes. he still trained like a machine, still scored like a monster, but his soul felt absent, detached from the body that kept performing. everything reminded him of sae. his technique, the media's comparisons, and the way fans whispered his brother’s name even when rin was on the field. no matter how fast he ran, sae was always there, just out of reach, like a ghost tethered to his back. And it wasn’t just about soccer anymore. it was about worth. rin had built his entire world around being better than his brother, and now that dream felt empty. everything felt empty.

At home, the silence was unbearable. he stopped answering calls, stopped replying to texts that didn’t come from his coach. you tried to be patient. you cooked, you waited, you reached out. but rin only grew colder. his is voice when he spoke to you was clipped, tired, like he couldn’t bear to waste energy on softness anymore. the space between you in bed became a canyon. he didn’t hold you, didn’t even face you. but you stayed, hoping the boy you loved would come back.

What you didn’t realize was that rin’s love hadn’t disappeared. more like it had decayed. he still looked at you with that familiar fire in his eyes, but now it was layered with resentment, guilt, and shame. you were a reminder of peace, of vulnerability, and rin couldn’t afford to feel fragile. not when the world already saw him cracking. so he snapped instead at everything you did. your voice, your questions, your presence... it all began to irritate him.

Sometimes he said cruel things and didn’t apologize. sometimes he’d stare through you, eyes dead and unreadable, like you were just another shadow in his collapsing world. you tried to tell him you understood, but Rin didn’t want understanding—he wanted to punish something. and since sae was too far away, too untouchable, he turned to you, not because you deserved it. but because you stayed. because you were close.

You began to fear the silence more than his words. when rin was quiet, it meant he was somewhere far inside himself, spiraling, self-destructing, rehearsing every failure on loop in his mind. he’d skip meals, lock himself in his room, train until his legs gave out, then come home with glassy eyes and trembling hands. the worst part wasn’t his anger. it was the emptiness in his gaze when you tried to touch him, like he wasn’t even inside his own body anymore. you missed him even when he was standing right in front of you. and he knew it. he just didn’t know how to fix it.

One night, he broke down... not with tears, but with shaking hands and a voice so quiet it felt like it didn’t belong to him. he told you he hated soccer. that he hated Sae. that he hated himself more than either. and when you tried to hold him, he kissed you like he was trying to disappear into your skin. It wasn’t gentle, it was desperate, almost painful, as if he held you hard enough, the noise in his head would stop. he didn't say he loved you, but the way he clung to you like a lifeline said enough. that night, your warmth was the only thing that made him feel real.

But the next morning, he was gone before you woke up. No note, no message.. just the echo of slammed doors and running water. rin didn’t want you to see the aftermath, the version of him that couldn't look you in the eye after taking so much. he resented his own neediness. he hated how much he’d leaned on you without giving anything back. and still, when he lay alone on the locker room bench, sweat soaking through his shirt, it was you he thought of. you, waiting. you, hurting. you, still there.

There was a twisted comfort in knowing he could destroy things and still be loved. but even that began to rot into guilt. rin wanted to be better for you, but he didn’t know how to stop grieving a version of himself that had never existed in the first place. he wasn’t just fighting sae anymore. he was fighting the weight of expectations, of legacy, of his own failures. and in that war, you were collateral. not because he didn’t care. but because he did. too much.

Rin didn’t go home that night. he stayed in the empty training facility long after the lights shut off, sitting on the cold tile floor with his back against the wall and his head between his hands. every thought was a storm, each memory of sae slicing through him like broken glass. he hated how much space his brother still took up in his chest, how every match felt like he was screaming at a version of himself that never got to speak. the sound of his own breathing annoyed him. he wanted silence, but his mind refused to give it. and when he finally left, the only place his feet carried him was to you.

You opened the door to find him standing there, soaked in rain, eyes bloodshot and unreadable. he didn’t speak. he didn’t have to. there was something raw in his expression, something that made your skin crawl and ache all at once. you stepped aside wordlessly, letting him in, watching the way his shoulders sagged like he was carrying something too heavy to name. he didn’t sit. he paced, trembling, jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscles twitching under his skin.

Then, out of nowhere, he snapped. “Do you think I’m weak?” he asked, voice low and shaking, like the answer might kill him. you stepped forward to respond, but he caught your wrist before you could speak. His grip wasn’t gentle, it was the kind of hold that begged for control. “Tell me. Tell me if I’m pathetic.” his eyes weren’t asking for comfort, they were demanding judgment. but you didn’t answer. you only whispered his name.

Something broke. he kissed you like punishment, like trying to erase every trace of failure with the taste of your mouth. it wasn’t sweet, it was rough, unyielding, desperate. his hands gripping your waist like he might fall apart if he let go. he backed you into the wall, breathing hard, lips trailing down your neck like he hated how good you felt. “Let me ruin something,” he muttered against your skin. “Just… let me break something that’s mine.” and you, foolishly, lovingly. let him.

He pushed your shirt up, hands shaking as they moved over your body like he needed to feel something real. his touches weren’t calculated like before. they were messy, driven by something he couldn’t name. his mouth was everywhere—collarbone, stomach, thighs—teeth grazing skin like he wanted to leave marks, proof he still had control over something. you gasped his name, and that only made it worse. he growled into your skin, biting down harder, like your pain was the only thing keeping him grounded. like your body was the only thing in the world that hadn’t left him behind.

You tried to pull him up, to slow him down, but rin wasn’t listening anymore. he dropped to his knees, pulling at your clothes like they were in his way, like they were lies he needed to strip off. his voice was low and cracked: “I need this. I need you. I don’t care if it’s wrong.” and when he pressed his mouth against you, it wasn’t for your pleasure, it was for his sanity. he devoured like a man starved, fingers digging into your hips, tongue dragging slow and hard as if trying to drink the pain out of you. you cried out, overwhelmed, and he moaned in response like the sound itself made him high. he wasn’t gentle. He didn’t know how to be.

When he finally pushed into you, it was a blur of broken gasps and pent-up fury. he didn’t speak, just grunted your name over and over like a curse, like an apology. every thrust was harsh, almost punishing, hips snapping into yours as he clutched your wrists above your head, staring down at you with eyes full of something twisted and fragile. sweat dripped from his jaw. your moans were swallowed by his mouth, teeth clashing, lips bruising. you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. just feel. he lost himself in you like he was trying to disappear.

And afterward, when it was over, when the world slowed and silence returned. rin didn’t speak. he sat at the edge of the bed, hunched over, hands trembling, chest rising and falling like he was still mid-fight. you reached for him, but he flinched like your touch burned. there was blood on his lip from biting too hard, bruises blooming across your hips. but he didn’t look at you. he only whispered to himself, barely audible, “I don’t know who I am anymore,” and for the first time, you were afraid he meant it.

behind all the coldness, sae is obsessed with you. <𝟑 .ᐟ #nsfw

You weren’t a player, and you never wanted to be. You handed out gear, logged stats, filled hydration charts—always at the edges, a shadow clinging to greatness. It was a thankless job. quiet, mechanical, invisible. But you liked it that way, even when your fingers stung from unrolling tape or your back screamed from hauling kits into storage. No one noticed the help unless something went wrong. And nothing ever did—until Sae Itoshi started looking. after that, nothing felt right again.

Sae noticed you on a Monday.. an ordinary one, as far as weather and drills were concerned. You stood by the benches, head tilted, scribbling performance stats onto a clipboard, focused—like the chaos of Blue Lock didn’t exist behind you. Maybe that’s what caught his eye, the way you were still while everything else exploded with noise and ego. He didn’t see you as a threat, or even a curiosity, not at first. But you didn’t look at him the way others did. You didn’t look at him at all. that unsettled him.. It wasn’t arrogance. It was an absence. And it burned deeper than worship ever could.

Over the next week, Sae’s attention spread like mold quiet, invisible at first, but persistent. He began positioning himself near wherever you stood, close enough to overhear your comments, to memorize the exact pitch of your voice. He corrected players with passive-aggressive precision if they interrupted you or demanded things too loudly. It wasn’t concern. well, not really. It was control. He wanted to dictate how people moved around you, how they spoke to you, how they saw you. But most of all, he wanted to know why you didn’t see him. He wasn’t obsessed with your attention. He was obsessed with your indifference.

You began to notice small shifts. Your things are slightly out of place. Your clipboard was replaced with an identical one that smelled faintly of cologne you didn’t wear. A snack tucked into your drawer—no note, just the exact one you’d mentioned offhandedly at lunch two days before. You started catching glimpses of him, watching from the upper decks during practice, leaning in the hallway as you passed. Never speaking. Never breaking the silence. When he did speak, it was brief—precise, and weighted with meaning you couldn’t quite grasp. “You’re too quiet,” he said once, without looking up. “Makes it hard to know what you’re thinking.” He said it like a problem. One he was already working to solve.

The others mistook Sae’s coldness for distance, but you were beginning to see it for what it truly was—intrusion. He didn’t need to raise his voice to command a room, a single glance was enough. You felt his presence long before you ever heard his footsteps. You started working faster, staying later, avoiding empty corridors. but it didn’t matter. He always knew where to find you. Worse, he never asked. One evening, you returned to your dorm to find your backup access key lying on your pillow perfectly centered. You hadn’t lost it. There was no note, no explanation. Just the quiet certainty that someone had been inside.

You confronted him the next day, trying to steady your voice even as your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “Did you go into my room?” you asked—half-hoping for a lie, a laugh, anything human. But he met your gaze without flinching, calm and deliberate. “It’s not your room. It’s just where they put you.” You started to speak, but he cut you off. “If I wanted to hurt you,” he said, “I would’ve already. But I don’t. I want to keep you safe.” and somehow, that felt infinitely worse.

After that, the rules between you changed, though you couldn’t tell if he wrote them, or if you did. You stopped locking your door at night, though you never said why. You began checking rooms before entering, scanning for shadows, tall figures, Reddish-Brown hair. In the cafeteria, he’d nod at you now—subtle, like a secret only the two of you shared. You hated him. And yet, his approval made your chest tighten with something dangerously close to need. You started sleeping lighter. You didn’t know what scared you more: the thought of him coming in, or the thought that one night, he wouldn’t.

Sae never pressed you for affection. He didn’t clamor for attention like the other boys at Blue Lock, all shouting to be seen. He waited. He studied. He learned you with a surgeon’s precision. He memorized the way your eyebrows creased when you lied, the twitch of your shoulders when anxiety set in. He never needed to ask how you felt, he already knew. But still, he wanted to hear it. Wanted you to say it first. To choose him, willingly. So he wouldn’t have to force your mouth open to make you speak.

And when you finally broke. because obsession always demands surrender—it didn’t feel like giving in. It felt like gravity, pulling you under. Like slipping into something that had been waiting for you all along. You didn’t kiss him, not exactly. You just stopped resisting when he leaned in, when the air between you vanished. His hands never trembled. yours did. And he whispered. “I told you no one else would understand you.” He said it like a promise. Not a comfort.

The first time he touched you was in the utility closet behind the main hall—where no cameras reached and the light above flickered like a warning. He followed you in without a word, shut the door behind him, and stood too close. breathing too quietly. You could smell the faint bite of sweat on his collar, the sharp snap of peppermint on his breath, the sterile cold of the gloves he peeled off with one hand. His fingers brushed your waist—not a grab, not a hold. Just a touch. Light. Deliberate. You froze. Not from fear, exactly. But from a kind of anticipation you didn’t yet know how to name. “You’re not running,” he said, as if recording a fact already filed away. And when you shook your head, he smiled slowly and satisfied. like you’d finally passed a test..

After that, Sae made sure your time belonged to him, whether you realized it or not. Schedules shifted. Drills were rearranged. Days planned down to the second, so you were never far from his shadow. If another player called you over, he intercepted them with a single glance like, cold and sharp as frost. before they even reached you. You weren’t spoken to without his silent permission. You weren’t looked at for too long without consequence. Bruises started appearing on the boys who got too friendly. marks they never explained. No one confronted him. Not because they feared his temper, but because they weren’t sure he even had one. He didn’t lash out. He calculated.

Your dorm room was never truly yours again.. because he came and went as he pleased. you’d return after a long day to find your bedsheets folded, your shampoo replaced with the brand he claimed smelled better, your alarm reset to match his mornings. He left little things. a hair tie wrapped around your pen, a glass of water waiting on your nightstand when you forgot to hydrate, a photo tucked beneath your pillow of you, taken from afar, blurry and candid. You didn’t ask how he got it. You didn’t ask him to stop. You simply adjusted. like furniture being rearranged, like space no longer yours to define. Because in his world, you didn’t just exist beside him. You existed for him.

In public, he didn’t hold your hand, he didn’t need to. You walked beside him now, silent as ever, but no longer uncertain. The others noticed, of course. how your gaze lingered when he stepped onto the field, how your voice softened when you said his name. It wasn’t a relationship. Not one anyone could name. But it had weight. Presence. The kind that silenced rooms. When he spoke to you, it was low, private, like every word was meant to live beneath your skin. You didn’t smile often. But when you did, it was only ever for him. And that was how he liked it. How he built it.

When jealousy flared, it was silent—but cruel. A visiting assistant once offered to help you carry towels. The next day, he was reassigned to a completely different division. You didn’t need confirmation. You saw it in the way Sae’s eyes met yours across the hallway, calm, expectant, waiting for your approval. And somehow, you gave it. You never asked him to be kind, or fair, or reasonable. You only asked him to see you. And he did. He saw everything.. especially the parts you tried to hide. And in his twisted way, it was LOVE.

One night, you found him waiting in your room, sitting on the edge of your bed, flipping through your notebook. He didn’t apologize. He just looked up and said, “You don’t write about me in here.” You answered too quickly, too honestly. “I don’t have to.” His eyes darkened. He stood crossing the room in three long strides. His hands cupped your face. not roughly, but like he was holding something fragile he’d already broken once. “Then say it,” he whispered. And you did.

You said his name like it was sacred. a quiet confession you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You said it again when his mouth found your neck, when his grip tightened around your hips, when the world shrank to the space between your breaths. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t supposed to be. But it was real. You didn’t resist. You didn’t want to. Because by now, the only place you felt real was in his arms, trapped or not. And maybe it wasn’t love. But it felt close enough to keep you there.

Sae drags you onto his lap like you’re something he owns—hands already slipping beneath your shirt, hungry for your warmth. “You don’t get it, do you?” he murmurs, voice flat but eyes burning. the calm before the storm. “Every time you talk to someone else... smile at them... I want to drag you away and remind you exactly who you belong to.” He sinks his teeth into your neck.. hard enough to bruise, grinding up against you with slow, deliberate pressure, like he has all the time in the world. “They don’t deserve that smile,” he growls, thrusting up through your panties, gaze locked on yours as your expression falters. “You think I’m jealous?” His voice drops, lower now. Darker. “I’m not. I’m territorial.”

He bends you over the table without warning, panties ripped to the side, and pushes into you like he’s staking a claim. His pace is merciless, one hand gripping your throat while the other spreads your ass wider, keeping you open for him. “You feel that?” he pants, dragging his cock out to the tip before slamming it back inside. “That’s mine. This wet, greedy little hole — it was made for me.” As you try to speak, to breathe, but he’s already pounding into you harder, making sure you can’t think of anything but him. “Say it. Tell me you’re mine, or I’ll keep going until you can’t stand.” "auh- shitt — I'm yours!" your words got caught up, tears forming, feeling you're orgasm starting to come up.

After you came, he doesn’t stop, he pulls you back onto the bed and flips you over, pressing your knees to your chest like he’s rearranging your insides. His eyes don’t blink, don’t soften.. he watches your face the entire time, obsessed with every twitch, every whimper. “You’re not allowed to forget,” he says, slower now but deeper, hitting the spots that make you cry out. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, holding you there while he fucks you through another orgasm. “Don’t you dare look at anyone else after this.” And when he finally finishes inside you again, he keeps his cock there, staying pressed to your deepest point like a lock you’ll never escape from...

𝘉𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭 𝘒𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳 ⋆.۶ৎ ̊

It’s been a year since Michael Kaiser, a soccer player playing for the team 'bastard munchen', married a woman who seemed perfect for him—beautiful, smart, and kindhearted. To the outside world, they appeared to be the ideal couple, excelling both in love and career. However, behind closed doors, their relationship hides a much darker reality.

kaiser was a man of few words, driven by intense ambition and a laser-sharp focus, especially on the football field, where he was relentless and almost robotic. His passion for the game overshadowed everything else in his life, including you. his wife. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her, but his love lacked warmth and vulnerability. at first, you tried to be understanding, believing you could be the one to break through Kaiser's cold exterior. mainly after you had seen his brilliance from a distance and admired his skill, though you had heard the rumors and noticed how he treated his teammates, you thought his coldness was just a mask hiding deeper emotions. She believed that, unlike everyone else, she could reach her husband beneath the surface.

It didn’t take long for you to see the harsh truth. kaiser’s ambition was all-consuming. His love for football always came first, leaving no room for emotional intimacy or connection. The long nights, constant training, and his single-minded focus were sacrifices he justified as being for their future. But you felt increasingly abandoned, left alone while her husband chased a dream that seemed to exclude her from the picture at all times.

One evening, you sat alone at the dining table, the soft glow of the chandelier casting shadows across your face as you stared at the untouched food. kaiser was late, like usual. His phone calls had become rare, and his apologies felt hollow. Even when he was physically present at home, his mind was always elsewhere, distant and preoccupied.

you had tried to confront him, to open up about how you felt, but every time, Michael met her with cold indifference. His responses were distant, dismissive, as if her emotions were just a disruption to his focus on football.

“You knew who I was when we got married,” Michael would say, his voice cold and detached. “Football is everything to me. You should understand that.” His words were a stark reminder of the unbridgeable gap between them, as if her pain and need for connection were secondary to his obsession with the sport.

“I understand, Michael,” you said as your voice trembled with emotion. “But I’m here, too. I need you. Don’t I deserve to be a priority sometimes?” you're words hung in the air, fragile and vulnerable, a quiet plea for recognition in a relationship that had become anything but equal.

He would look at her with those sharp, emotionless eyes, barely a flicker of acknowledgment in his gaze. Then, without a hint of regret, he’d turn away. “I don’t have time for this. You knew what you were signing up for.” His words cut through you, a reminder that, in his mind, there was no room for anything but football—and no space left for her.

It wasn’t that kaiser didn’t love her, he did, but in his own way. For him, love was a transaction, something he gave only when he expected something in return. He had never learned to love without conditions. as for you, to him, was more of an extension of his success, a part of the polished image he’d built, rather than a person with you own needs, desires, and emotions. you weren’t his equal partner in his eyes. you were just another cog in the machine that helped him achieve his goals.

The breaking point came one night, when kaiser came home later than usual, drenched in sweat from an intense training session. you'd had been waiting for him, sitting in the living room, hoping for something.. like a conversation, a sign of affection, or at least an apology. But when he walked through the door, he barely spared you a glance, his focus on his own world, as if you wasn’t even there.

“I’m tired,” Michael muttered, walking past you without a second glance.

.. as you stood up, you're heart racing, as your voice trembling with urgency. “kaiser… can we talk?” The words felt heavy in your chest, but you needed to break through, to say something that might finally get through to him.

He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Not now, baby I’m too tired.”

“No, kaiser,” you insisted, as your voice began to shake. “I need more than this. I need you to be here with me, not just physically, but emotionally. You’re never really here. Not with me, not with anyone.”

For the first time, kaiser turned to face you. His eyes, usually cold and calculating, seemed almost… tired, as though the weight of his own choices was starting to catch up with him. But the softness was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. The familiar mask slipped back into place. “I’ve told you before. This is who I am. If you can’t handle it, maybe you should leave.” His words were sharp, as if he had already decided there was no room for compromise.

The words stung, but they weren’t a surprise. you had known for a while that you was living in the shadow of the man you thought you married. you had tried so hard to believe in him, to hold onto the hope that one day he would change, that he would see you as more than just a supporting character in his life. But now, standing in front of him, the truth was undeniable. The man you had love.. well. loved was a ghost, and the future you had imagined was slipping through her fingers.

you took a deep breath, you're tears threatening to spill over as the weight of it all crashed down on you. “I don’t know if I can keep living like this, Michael,” you said, you're voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can keep being the person who watches you sacrifice everything for something that doesn’t even seem to include me.” you're words trembled, raw and vulnerable, a quiet plea for him to see her—not as another piece of his ambition, but as his wife, his partner. the wife he knew you LOVE him.

For a long moment, the air just feeling the living— room up. kaiser just stood there, his expression unreadable, as if her words had barely registered. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice low and distant, like he was saying something he had said a thousand times before. “If you can’t handle it, then leave. There’s nothing more to say.” His words were final, a cold dismissal, as though the decision had already been made in his mind, and there was no room left for anything else.

And that was it. The final straw. you felt a strange weight lift from you're chest, even as you're heart shattered. you had always known that Kaiser’s love wasn’t the kind that would ever truly fill you, but you had held on to the hope that it might change—that maybe, one day, he would see you as more than just a part of his success. But now, standing there, you realized.. you couldn’t keep pretending. His heartlessness, his indifference, was a reality you could no longer ignore. you couldn't live in the shadow of his ambition forever..