Itoshi Sae didn’t lose.

Except tonight, he did. And it left him simmering, jaw locked, every step back to the hotel radiating irritation.

By the time he shoved his keycard through the door and saw you waiting on the bed, he knew exactly how he was going to work the venom out of his system.

He didn’t speak.

Just dragged you up by the wrist, ripped your shorts down, and shoved you face-first into the mattress.

His cock was in you before you could breathe, a single, brutal thrust that made your body jolt forward.

“Shut up,” he muttered, hand pressing your cheek into the sheets when you whimpered.

His thrusts were ruthless, hips snapping hard, the sting of his pace already stealing your breath. “You think I’m in the mood to be gentle? Pathetic.”

His palm cracked across your ass, sharp enough to make you cry out. “Too loud.”

He spit on your back, dragging his hand across the mess before gripping your throat and yanking you up against him, chest to chest. “Feel that? That’s me using you. That’s all you’re good for right now.”

Every word was cruel, cocky, his voice low and controlled even as he slammed into you harder. His lips brushed your ear, almost mocking. “Look at you. Taking my cock like a dumb slut while I’m still pissed about that fucking game.”

When you clenched around him, he scoffed, smacking your thigh. “You like it. Don’t deny it. You’re squeezing me so tight—fuck—just from me talking down to you?”

He spat in your mouth when he dragged your head back, his thumb digging into your jaw to keep you open.

“Swallow it. Good girl.” Then he bent you over again, pounding into you with a pace that bordered on cruel.

“I should’ve come back and ignored you,” he grunted, voice rough with exertion. “But no—here I am, ruining you because my cock’s the only thing you’re good for.”

You came before you could stop it, body betraying you with a sob. Sae laughed darkly, pulling your hair so your arch deepened. “Jesus christ. Getting off while I’m using you like this. Don’t you fucking dare think this is for you.”

He buried himself deep, groaning as he came, holding your neck down to the mattress while he filled you. The slap of his hips against your ass echoed through the room until he finally stilled, cock twitching inside you.

Then he pulled out, watching his cum drip down your thighs. Cold eyes, cruel smirk. “Clean yourself up. I’m not finished with you.”

The glow of his setup paints the room in neon blues and purples, three monitors illuminating every angle.

Your reflection flashes across the middle screen, cheeks flushed, lips wet, eyes glassy as Satoru drives into you from behind, each thrust rough enough to rattle the desk. The mic lies abandoned near your mouth, picking up broken whines you’re too far gone to suppress.

“Damn,” he groans, leaning over you with his chest pressing into your back, hips snapping into you hard enough to make the desk creak. His breath fans hot against your ear. “You’re so fucking tight, baby—look at you, drooling all over my desk.”

Your face twists, torn between shame and raw pleasure as he pulls your hair to tilt your head toward the glowing button on his stream deck: Go Live. His finger hovers just above it, casual, taunting.

“Should I show them?” His grin is wicked, pale lashes shadowing his eyes as he studies the panic on your face reflected in the screen. “Chat would lose their minds seeing their favorite streamer splitting his girl open like this. Hah—imagine the donations.”

Your stomach flips, embarrassment and arousal colliding in a messy knot. “Satoru, no, please—don’t—”

The way you whimper only makes him slam harder, the desk groaning under the force. He chuckles, sharp and cruel, like your desperation is his favorite kind of game. “Beg harder. Or maybe I’ll just click it… let everyone hear how sweet you sound when I’m pounding this tight little pussy.”

You choke on a moan as he shifts, fucking you deeper, relentless, the tip of his cock brushing the spot that makes your vision white out. His thumb grazes the Go Live button—just enough to make the stream preview light up, your ruined face blown up on his monitor.

“Fuck—look at that,” he laughs, grabbing your chin and forcing you to stare at your reflection. “You see yourself? Pretty little slut getting railed by her streamer boyfriend. You really think chat wouldn’t eat that up?”

Tears sting your lashes, drool pooling on his mousepad as your body betrays you, clenching tighter around him the filthier his words get.

He notices instantly, growling low in your ear. “Oh? You like it. You want me to leak your slutty little moans to thousands of people, don’t you?”

“Satoru, no!—fuck—I don’t—” your voice cracks, words barely making it out as he wrecks you, the squelch of your bodies obscene in the mic’s pickup range.

Choso swears he isn’t the type to do shit like this.

He swears every time he tells himself just this once.

But his phone is always propped up on the nightstand or in his hand, lens tilted down to catch every filthy angle of you falling apart for him.

He never says it out loud, how badly it gets him off to watch the way your body reacts on replay—but the smirk he wears when you notice the little click of his camera is enough to give him away.

“Open wider,” he mutters, one big hand wrapped tight around your throat while the other angles the phone, capturing the exact second your tongue lolls out.

You can see yourself in the reflection of his eyes—slutty, ruined, choking on his cock—and the wet sound of your gagging gets recorded crystal clear.

He loves that. Loves how raw it looks. Loves how much nastier you get when you realize he’s keeping it forever.

When he bottoms out, slow and mean, he pulls the phone down to catch the way your pussy stretches around him.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groans, thumb flicking the screen so he’s filming the exact moment he drags out and pushes back in, slick strings catching the light.

Later, he’ll scroll through it with one hand shoved down his sweats, getting hard all over again watching cum drip out of you, watching how messy you look taking everything he gives.

You whimper his name, half a plea for him to stop, half a plea for more, and he just chuckles low. “Don’t worry, baby. Only for me. No one else’ll ever see this nasty little side of you.”