punk!rin itoshi who uses his large hand to pin your arms above your head as he sucks and licks your nipples. he needily licked over the sensitive bud as the cold metal sent tremors down your spine before taking it into his warm mouth—his barbed tongue swirling fervently as he sucks. arching your back as you let out little mewls, he pulls away with a wet pop—panting before switching to the other.

punk!rin itoshi who trails his lips down your chest and abdomen as his large hands fondle your tits, desperately squishing at the soft flesh. his hands span across the plushness of your thighs before hooking into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them off. he places little kisses and bites on your inner thighs as your shorts hang over one ankle. peering up at you with those adorable teal eyes, he murmurs. "can i?"

the silver barbell gleams from his tongue as you nod. "please," you start, hiding your face with the back of your hand. "need you s'bad."

rin swallows thickly at your approval, tugging off your panties in newfound neediness. drooling at the sight of your bare pussy, twitching and wet, he presses a thumb to your slit. wetting his skin as the friction sends tremors to your clit. then he licks up, slow and languid, collecting your slick along his tongue.

punk!rin itoshi who can't control himself while eating you out to save his life. growling into your pussy as you squirm against the cold metal of his barbell, he roughly pins your thighs to his bed. ignoring how your hips jerk with each lick over your sensitive clit, he sucks the bud into his mouth. barbed tongue swirling as the sensation hits you again and again—

"rin!" you cry out, fingers interlacing in his dark strands. "t'much!"

he lets out a muffled growl, ignoring how your hips stutter with each fervent suck. his own hips grind into the mattress as he switches between licking and sucking at your clit. then his head tilts down, his tongue plunging deep into your pussy with a soft groan. the cold metal brushes against your gummy walls as warmth pools at your abdomen, twisting into a coil close to snapping.

you pull at his hair after every mewl, but that only seems to egg him further on. he doubles down as his tongue presses deep into your sweet spot, causing your hips to launch off the bed, stammering. "r-rin! i cant!—"

you're close—so goddamn close—and he keeps going, pushing your knees to brush against your chest. "s'good," he whines into you, rutting into the bed. "s'fucking good."

suddenly, his tongue withdraws from your pussy. his lips opt to wrap around your clit once more. the cold metal swirling against the sensitive bud with each harsh suck. the coil snaps as you cry out, the dizzying feeling of cumming on rin's tongue too much for you to handle.

punk!rin itoshi who doesn't stop rutting into the bed, even as you cum. continuing to lick and suck at your clit after each hair pull. "c-can't," you stammer, cut off by a whine.

panting, he murmurs. "one more, hm? you can do it."

and as he presses a soft kiss to your clit before diving in again, you might as well brace yourself to give him one more.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

“yeah yeah i pinky promise i won’t eat your stuff anymore.”

he thought about it for a moment before sighing and scooting over, reluctantly laying down with a few(many) protests under his breath.

you combed your fingers through his silky strands, a satisfied smile gracing your lips while he rolled his eyes and muttered complaints.

“this is lukewam..”

you playfully tugged on a strand of hair to shut him up while he smacked your hand away with a scowl on his face but still made no move to get up.

he laid on the couch with his long limbs sprawled out, head laid snug on your soft thighs with his eyes half lidded with a glare you were already accustomed to. apart from that, he looked remotely peaceful with his teal hair sprawled out like a halo across your lap.

you started to talk about how your day went, from how the barista messed up your coffee order today morning to how your mom was planning on visiting them soon.

rin was quiet, never saying more than a few words, choosing to respond with nods or grunts. he gave an occasional hum to indicate that he was listening, yawning softly while shifting a little to get comfortable on his side to press his cheek against your plush thighs.

you happily continued to drone on about whatever, fingers unconsciously playing with the soft strands of hair and soothingly scratching his scalp either your nails.

“oh and recently i- rin..?” you paused mid ramble realising that he hadn’t responded to anything youve been saying in awhile.

you peered down expecting to see him annoyed that you’re talking too much again but instead you were greeted with the sight of him with his eyes shut and his lips spread, a faint line of drool escaping them and trickling onto your thigh. he looked sound asleep, probably having fallen asleep to your voice.

it was different seeing him like this, the usual furrow of his brows, the always present scowl on his lips and the tense shoulders were gone and instead replaced with a serene expression and his body melting into the couch.

his breaths were even, lightly ghosting your skin. you watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, fingers softly skimming over the swell of his cheek, committing this picture of an unguarded rin peacefully asleep.

The penthouse was too quiet.

Tokyo glittered thirty-eight floors below, a restless constellation of neon and headlights, but inside the walls felt thick with silence. The only light came from the tablet on the coffee table, its pale glow carving sharp shadows across the marble floor and painting your bare legs in cold blue. You hadn’t moved in almost an hour. The screen had auto-refreshed three times, each cycle pushing new headlines higher:

“Itoshi Rin & Hana Sato: New Couple Alert?” “Sources Say Rin Ended Long-Term Relationship Over ‘Image Concerns’” “From Curvy Girlfriend to Runway Model–Rin Itoshi’s Glow-Up Is Brutal”

The photos were worse than the words. Rin leaving a studio in Minato, Hana two steps behind him laughing at something he’d said. Rin holding the door of a black van for her after a late-night shoot. Rin handing her a bottle of water, his fingers brushing hers. Innocent moments sliced and stitched into a narrative that made your stomach turn.

Your phone buzzed on the couch beside you—Rin’s name on the screen, probably the fifth text in the last twenty minutes.

[rin]: still stuck in this meeting. I’ll be home soon.

[rin]: ignore the trash online. please.

[rin]: I love you.

You hadn’t answered. Not because you believed the rumors—you knew Rin, knew the way he looked at you like you were the only person in any room—but because the comments had wormed their way under your skin anyway.

"Too big for someone like him." "He was always going to trade up." "She looks like someone a World XI striker should be with."

You pulled the oversized hoodie (his hoodie, the black one with the faint scent of his cologne still trapped in the fibers) tighter around yourself, as though the cotton could muffle the noise in your head. Your knees were drawn to your chest, arms looped around them, chin resting on the ridge of worn fabric where his name used an old sponsor logo. The sleeves swallowed your hands completely; only your fingertips peeked out, cold despite the warmth of the room.

You weren’t crying anymore. You had run out of tears an hour ago, leaving your eyes raw and your throat scraped dry. You never doubted Rin, not even for a heartbeat. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was the way the comments slithered in anyway, like smoke under a door you thought you’d sealed shut.

“She was always a placeholder.”

“Finally someone on his level.”

“Imagine being dumped because you can’t fit the brand.”

You hated how practiced you’d become at pretending those words didn’t land. You hated that they still did.

Your gaze had gone unfocused, staring at nothing, the tablet long since dimmed to black on the coffee table. The city outside the floor-to-ceiling windows blurred into streaks of gold and red. You didn’t hear the soft electronic chime of the door. Didn’t hear the quiet thud of his duffel hitting the marble, or the muted shuffle of his shoes being toed off. You only registered him when the air changed, when the faint citrus-and-rain scent that belonged exclusively to Rin suddenly wrapped around you like a second blanket.

He stopped in the middle of the living room, silhouette cutting through the dark. Moonlight and distant neon traced the sharp edges of him: the tense line of his shoulders beneath the compression shirt, the damp ends of his teal hair, the way his chest rose and fell a little too fast, like he’d jogged up the private elevator.

He didn’t speak at first. Just looked: at the hoodie drowning you, at the way you’d curled yourself small on his couch, at the tablet lying guilty on the table. Something stormy moved behind his eyes.

Then he crossed the room in slow, deliberate steps, as if approaching something fragile that might startle. When he reached you, he didn’t ask what was wrong. He already knew.

Rin sank to his knees in front of the couch, the movement fluid despite the exhaustion written into the faint shadows under his eyes. His hands, still warm from the drive home, settled gently on your bare knees where the hoodie had ridden up.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, rough at the edges from a long day of interviews and cameras. “Look at me.”

You did, slowly. Your lashes felt heavy, crusted with the salt of dried tears. His gaze flicked over your face, cataloging every sign of hurt like it physically pained him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” he murmured. “Meeting ran late. Then traffic was shit.”

You tried for a smile; it wobbled and died. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” His thumbs swept slow arcs across your skin. “You’ve been sitting here alone with that garbage on the screen, haven’t you?”

You swallowed. Nodded once.

Rin’s jaw flexed. He reached past you, long arm extending to flip the tablet completely facedown, then farther, until he could kill the screen entirely. The room dropped into deeper shadow, lit only by the city beyond the glass.

“I told you,” he said quietly, “those people don’t get to have opinions about you. They don’t get to have opinions about us.”

“I know,” you whispered again, the words scraping out raw. “It still crawls in. I hate that it crawls in.”

Rin’s hands slid from your knees to your thighs, slow and deliberate, fingers pressing into the softness there like he needed to feel the truth of you under his palms.

“Baby,” he said, so softly it almost broke you all over again.

The endearment was rare from him (he usually saved it for moments when the world was too loud and you were the only quiet thing left). Hearing it now made your chest ache in a different way.

He leaned in closer, knees still on the floor, torso curling over yours until his forehead rested against yours again. His breath was warm, steady, the only calm thing in the room.

“You know there’s nothing between me and her, right?” His voice was low, fierce in its gentleness. “You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded, the motion small against his skin. “I do. I swear I do.”

“Then let me say it anyway.” His thumbs drew slow, soothing circles on the outside of your thighs. “There’s never been anyone else. Not on set. Not in rumors. Not in my head. Not in my phone. Not in my bed. Only you. Always only you.”

A shaky exhale left you. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath.

His palms burned against your bare belly, slow, deliberate circles that made the soft flesh quiver under his touch. The hoodie was bunched beneath your breasts now, forgotten, and Rin’s mouth was on you, open, wet, reverent. He dragged his tongue along one shimmering stretch mark like he was tasting silk, teeth grazing just enough to spark heat low in your spine.

“This skin,” he rasped, voice thick with hunger, “so fucking warm it ruins me.” His lips sealed over another mark, sucking gently until the faint silver flushed pink under his mouth. “I fall asleep with my face right here,” he pressed a slow, filthy kiss just above your navel, tongue dipping into the shallow dip, “listening to you breathe, feeling you rise and fall under my cheek. Warmest place in the world. I get hard just thinking about it.”

His hands slid lower, greedy now, fingers sinking deep into the plush give of your hips before spreading to your thighs. He groaned, raw and wrecked, the moment he gripped them, thumbs digging into the yielding heat.

“Fuck, these thighs.” He forced them wider, settling his broad shoulders between them like he was made to fit there. “Look at them shake already.” He bit down on the fullest part, high on the inside where the skin was velvet-soft and impossibly sensitive, teeth scraping before his tongue soothed the sting with a slow, wet lick that made your hips jerk. “Love how they close around my head when I’ve got my tongue buried in you,” he growled against your skin, breath scalding. “Love how you squeeze so hard I see stars, how you try to ride my face when you’re close, thighs trembling, dripping down my chin.”

He dragged his mouth higher, lips brushing the crease where thigh met body, so close to your soaked center that you whimpered. His nose nudged the damp cotton of your panties, inhaling deep, a shudder rolling through his shoulders.

“Smell so fucking sweet here,” he muttered, voice hoarse, almost angry with want. “Could spend hours just breathing you in, feeling these thighs lock around my ears while I lick you slow, until you’re sobbing my name and trying to smother me with this perfect cunt.”

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you wider, and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the damp fabric clinging to you, tongue pressing hard enough that you felt the pressure through the cotton, a filthy promise of what was coming.

“Every time you cum with my head trapped between these thighs,” he said, lips moving against you, voice vibrating straight into your clit, “I swear I see God. And I still want more. Always more.”

His hands slid under you, cupping the heavy weight of your ass, lifting you slightly so he could mouth at you harder, teeth grazing the edge of your panties before tugging them aside with a single impatient jerk.

“Hold them open for me, baby,” he ordered, voice shredded raw. “Let me show you exactly how much I love every inch they tried to shame.”

Your hands were shaking as you obeyed, fingers sliding down to grip the backs of your own thighs and spread yourself wide for him. The cool air hit your soaked panties and you whimpered, hips rolling without permission.

“Good girl,” Rin growled, eyes locked on the wet patch darkening the cotton. “Look at you—already dripping for me. This pretty pussy knows who it belongs to.”

He started with your thighs again, slow, deliberate kisses that turned into open-mouthed sucks. His teeth sank into the soft inner flesh, hard enough that you gasped, a sharp sting blooming into heat.

“Rin—”

“Gonna mark you up,” he rasped against your skin, tongue soothing the bite before he moved higher and did it again. “So tomorrow when you look in the mirror you’ll see my mouth all over these gorgeous fucking thighs and remember who worships them.”

Another bite, higher this time, so close to where you needed him that your legs trembled in your own grip.

“They’re gonna be purple by morning,” he promised darkly, sucking a fresh bruise right at the crease of your thigh. “Everyone will know these legs only open for me.”

You moaned, head falling back against the couch. “Please… Rin, please—”

He finally dragged his mouth to your center, lips closing over your clit through the soaked fabric. The pressure was perfect, maddening, and he groaned like he was the one being tortured.

“Fuck, taste you even through this,” he muttered, tongue flicking fast and filthy over the bundle of nerves. “So sweet. Soaked my chin already and I haven’t even gotten these panties off you.”

Your hips bucked; he pinned them down with one strong hand splayed over your belly, the other still kneading your thigh.

“Stay still, baby. Let me eat this pussy the way it deserves.”

He sucked hard, cheeks hollowing, and you cried out, fingers digging into your own flesh to keep yourself spread.

“Rin—oh god—”

“That’s it,” he praised, voice muffled against you, vibrations shooting straight through your clit. “Scream for me. Let the whole fucking building know how good I make this body feel.”

He pulled back just long enough to look up at you, lips shiny, eyes feral. “These thighs are my favorite place in the world. Love how thick they are, how they jiggle when I slap them, how they lock around my head when you cum so hard you forget your own name.”

You were babbling now, breathless. “Love when you leave marks… love when you—ah—when you can’t breathe because of me—”

“Yeah?” He grinned, wicked and beautiful, before diving back in, tongue pressing flat and licking a slow, filthy stripe up your clothed slit. “Love suffocating on this perfect cunt. Love when you use me, baby. Grind on my face. Smother me with these gorgeous legs until I’m drunk on you.”

He hooked his fingers in the crotch of your panties and yanked them aside, baring you completely. The first full, naked lick tore a broken moan from your throat.

“There she is,” he breathed, reverent and filthy all at once. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. So plump and wet and fucking mine.”

His mouth sealed over your bare clit, sucking hard, and your back arched off the couch.

“Rin—fuck—don’t stop—”

“Never,” he snarled, tongue flicking fast, relentless. “Gonna eat you until you’re shaking so hard these thighs leave bruises on my cheeks. Gonna make you cum all over my face until the only thing in your head is how much I fucking love you—every roll, every stretch mark, every inch of this body they’ll never deserve.”

You were close already, heat coiling tight and bright.

“I’m—Rin, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he demanded, sliding two fingers inside you without warning, curling hard. “Cum all over my tongue, baby. Show me how good this body feels when it’s worshipped right.”

You came with a broken cry, thighs clamping around his head exactly the way he loved, hips jerking helplessly against his mouth. Pleasure crashed over you in white-hot waves, and Rin didn’t pull away; he pressed deeper, tongue lashing your clit through every shudder, drinking you down like he was starving for it. Your panties were ruined, shoved crooked to the side, and the couch beneath you was drenched, a dark, shameless stain spreading under your ass.

When the last tremor left your body, you sagged, boneless, chest heaving. Rin stayed between your legs a moment longer, licking you softly, reverently, like he was savoring the aftershocks. Only then did he lift his head.

His chin was glistening, slick and shining with you. His shirt clung to his chest, soaked through at the collar and down the front, the black fabric turned midnight-wet. He looked wrecked in the most beautiful way: lips swollen, cheeks flushed, teal eyes blown almost black with lust and triumph.

He brought the two fingers that had been inside you to his mouth and licked them clean, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact. The wet sound of his tongue sliding over his skin made your spent body twitch again.

“Fuck,” he rasped, voice hoarse from how long he’d been buried in you. “You taste even better when you cum that hard.”

You whimpered, too sensitive, too overwhelmed. “Rin…”

He crawled up your body like a predator who’d just claimed his favorite meal, hands sliding under your thighs to keep them spread around his hips. When his face hovered over yours, you could smell yourself on him, sharp and sweet.

“Look at me,” he ordered softly.

You did. His mouth and chin still gleamed with your release, a single drop clinging to the sharp cut of his jaw. He didn’t wipe it away.

“This,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “is what my face looks like after I worship the woman I love. Not some runway doll. You.”

He leaned down and kissed you, slow and filthy, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned into his mouth, hands flying to his damp hair, pulling him closer.

When he finally broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing hard.

“I’m not done,” he whispered against your lips. “Gonna strip you bare, spread you out on our bed, and spend the rest of the night proving it. Every mark, every curve, every sound you make; mine. Gonna fuck you until the only thing you remember is how much this body was made for me.”

His hips rolled once, slow and deliberate, letting you feel how painfully hard he was through his track pants.

“Tell me you want that,” he said, voice shaking with restraint. “Tell me you want me to ruin you for anyone else’s opinion forever.”

Your answer was immediate, desperate, raw.

“Ruin me, Rin. Please. Make me forget everything but you.”

The words barely left your mouth before his smirk turned sharp, predatory, devastating. In one fluid motion he stood, hands sliding under your thighs to hoist you against his chest. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back, and the second your weight settled, you felt him: thick, rigid, straining against the thin fabric of his sweatpants, the heat of his cock pressing right up against your soaked, sensitive core.

“Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth as you rolled your hips once, testing. “Already greedy again.”

You couldn’t help it. The friction was perfect, every shift of your bodies dragging the ridge of his length over your swollen clit. You ground down harder, chasing it, breath hitching against his neck.

“Rin—”

“Keep doing that and I’ll fuck you right here against the hallway wall,” he warned, voice gravel and smoke, but he was already moving, long strides eating the distance to the bedroom. Each step jolted you against him, the head of his cock nudging your entrance through the layers of damp fabric, teasing, promising.

You whimpered and rocked again, shameless, thighs squeezing his narrow waist. “I don’t care where. Just need you inside me.”

He kicked the bedroom door shut behind him, the slam echoing, and dropped you onto the mattress with just enough force to bounce. The city lights spilled across the bed in silver streaks, painting his face in hard angles and hunger as he ripped his soaked shirt over his head and let it fall.

“Look at you,” he growled, crawling over you, hands already yanking your ruined panties down your legs and tossing them aside. “Spread out on my bed, thighs shaking, pussy dripping for me. This is the body they said I’d leave?” He laughed, dark and filthy. “I’d burn the world down before I gave this up.”

His sweatpants were gone in a heartbeat, cock springing free, flushed and leaking at the tip. He fisted himself once, slow, eyes locked on where you were already reaching for him.

“Tell me again,” he demanded, voice trembling with restraint as he dragged the head through your slick folds, coating himself, teasing your entrance. “Tell me who this perfect cunt belongs to.”

“You,” you sobbed, hips lifting, chasing him, “only you, Rin. Always you.”

The words snapped something inside him. A low, animal sound rumbled from his chest, and before you could draw another breath he rolled you both in one brutal, graceful motion. The mattress dipped beneath his shoulders; suddenly you were astride him, thighs spread wide over his narrow hips, his cock lying thick and flushed against his abs, slick with your wetness and his own leaking need.

He looked up at you like you were the only religion he’d ever kneel for.

“Ride me,” he ordered, voice shredded. His palms slid up your ribs and cupped your breasts, heavy and full in his hands. He squeezed, slow and possessive, thumbs dragging over your nipples until they stiffened into aching peaks. “Show me how this perfect fucking body takes what it wants.”

You rose on trembling thighs, gripping his base to line him up. The blunt head nudged your entrance, and you sank down—slow, deliberate, letting him feel every inch of you swallow him whole.

Rin’s head slammed back into the pillow, throat bared, a guttural “Fuuuck” tearing out of him. “Look at you. Look at these tits bouncing while you take my cock. So heavy, so fucking gorgeous.”

He filled his hands with them again, kneading, lifting, pushing them together so he could watch the soft flesh spill over his fingers. “These are mine,” he growled, pinching your nipples hard enough to make you clench around him. “Love how they overflow my palms. Love how sensitive they get when I play with them.”

You started moving, rising until only the tip stretched you, then dropping hard. Each slam dragged a broken moan from his throat, his abs flexing under your palms.

“Rin—”

“Say it,” he demanded, sitting up suddenly so his mouth could reach you. He sucked one nipple deep, teeth grazing, tongue flicking fast. “Tell me whose pretty tits these are.”

“Yours,” you gasped, fingers tangling in his damp hair, holding him to your chest. “All yours—”

He switched to the other breast, biting down just hard enough to leave a faint ring of teeth, then soothing it with wet, open-mouthed kisses. “Gonna keep them in my mouth all night,” he muttered against your skin, voice muffled by soft flesh. “Gonna suck them until they’re swollen and aching and you beg me to stop. Then I’ll just bite harder.”

Your rhythm turned desperate, hips grinding, thighs burning. He fell back again, hands sliding down to grip your waist, thumbs pressing into the soft roll above your hips.

“And this belly,” he rasped, eyes locked on where you were joined, watching himself disappear into you over and over. “Love how it moves when you fuck me. Love how warm it is when I cum all over it. Love pressing my face right here—” he dragged one hand up to splay over the gentle curve, “—and feeling you breathe while I’m still inside you.”

You whimpered, leaning forward so your breasts swayed over his face. He took the invitation instantly, mouth latching onto a nipple again, sucking hard while his hips snapped up to meet every downward thrust.

“These thighs,” he groaned between licks and bites, hands dropping to squeeze the thick flesh framing his hips. “Fuck, feel them shake. Love how they jiggle when I slap them raw. Love how they lock around my head when I eat you for hours. Love the bruises I leave right here—” he dug his fingers into the tender inner skin, hard enough that you knew you’d wear purple fingerprints tomorrow. “Proof you squeezed me until I couldn’t breathe and I still begged for more.”

Your pace faltered; pleasure coiled vicious and bright.

He felt it. Sat up fully this time, arms banding around your waist, mouth never leaving your breasts. He sucked a bruising mark just above one nipple, then dragged his tongue in a wet stripe across both peaks.

“Cum on my cock with these perfect tits in my mouth,” he snarled, teeth scraping sensitive skin. “Milk me while I bite down on what’s mine. Want to feel you drip down my balls while you scream.”

The filthy praise snapped you apart. You came with a sob, back arching, breasts thrust into his face as your walls clamped down hard. Rin groaned like he was dying, hips pistoning through your orgasm, chasing his own.

“Fuck—yes—give it to me—” He latched onto your nipple one last time, sucking hard, and followed you over the edge. His cock pulsed deep inside you, flooding you with heat, arms crushing you to his chest so your breasts were flattened against him, hearts hammering together.

You collapsed forward, foreheads pressed, both of you shaking. He stayed buried inside you, thick and pulsing, refusing to leave the heat he’d just claimed. His hands roamed lazily, possessively: sliding over the swell of your ass, tracing the dip of your spine, coming back up to cup your breasts again and again like he was addicted to the weight of them in his palms.

“My pretty girl,” he muttered against your mouth, voice fucked-out and soft, lips brushing yours with every word. “My perfect, gorgeous girl.”

His right hand drifted lower, fingers spreading wide over one cheek before he gave it a sharp, deliberate smack. The sound cracked through the quiet room; your flesh rippled, jiggling against his thigh, and Rin groaned like the sight alone could get him hard again.

“Fuck, look at that,” he rasped, smacking the other side just to watch it bounce again. “Love how this ass moves for me. So thick, so soft… takes my hands like it was made to be spanked raw.”

You whimpered, oversensitive, clenching around him involuntarily. He hissed at the squeeze, hips jerking once inside you.

“Still greedy even after I filled you up,” he murmured, soothing the sting with slow circles, then squeezing hard. “Love these little ripples every time I touch you. Love watching it shake when I fuck you from behind. Love grabbing it while you ride me so I can feel it slap against my thighs.”

He delivered another playful smack, lighter this time, just enough to make the flesh of your ass ripple and a sharp gasp tear from your throat. You arched into him, chasing the sting, the heat, the way it made you clench around his still-buried cock.

Before the sound even left your lips, Rin moved.

One strong arm banded around your waist, the other gripping your hip, and in a single, fluid twist he flipped you again. The world spun; suddenly you were on your hands and knees, cheek pressed to the cool sheets, back bowed, ass high in the air for him. He never slipped out of you, just followed the motion so he stayed seated deep, stretching you open from this new, filthy angle.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, both palms spreading over your ass, kneading hard, watching the way your cheeks jiggled under his grip. “Look at this view. This perfect fucking ass up in the air, still dripping my cum down your thighs.”

He pulled back slow, torturously slow, until only the thick head of his cock stretched your entrance, then slammed back in to the hilt. Your whole body jolted forward with the force, breasts swaying heavy beneath you, a broken cry ripping from your throat.

“Rin—!”

“That’s it,” he growled, setting a punishing rhythm, hips slapping against your ass with every thrust. “Take it just like this. Let me watch this gorgeous body bounce for me.”

One hand left your hip to slide up your spine, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just hard enough to make your back arch deeper. The other came down in a sharp spank that echoed through the room.

“Feel how wet you still are?” he rasped, voice ragged. “Pussy’s making a mess all over my cock. Love how this ass jiggles every time I fuck you. Love how it turns red under my hand.”

Another smack, harder, and you moaned shamelessly, pushing back to meet him.

“More,” you begged, voice wrecked. “Mark me more, Rin, please—”

He snarled at that, grip tightening in your hair. “Greedy girl. Want my handprints all over this perfect ass so you can’t sit tomorrow without thinking of me?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—”

He gave you what you asked for: a quick volley of sharp, deliberate spanks that left your skin burning and your cunt fluttering around him. Each slap made your ass bounce, made your breasts swing, made you sob his name into the sheets.

“These tits,” he groaned, reaching beneath you to cup one heavy breast, pinching the nipple hard. “Hanging like this, swaying every time I fuck you stupid—fuck, I could watch them forever.”

He rolled the sensitive peak between his fingers, tugging, twisting, until tears pricked at your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure-pain. His other hand kept spanking, alternating cheeks, until the skin felt hot and throbbing and perfect.

“Look at you,” he praised, voice breaking with awe and hunger. “Taking me so deep, ass red from my hands, tits bouncing, pussy creaming all over me. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Most perfect body in the fucking world.”

You were close again, embarrassingly fast, the angle letting him hit that spot inside you relentlessly.

“Rin—I’m—”

“Cum,” he demanded, voice shredded, releasing your hair to grip both hips and pound into you harder, the slap of skin on skin obscene in the quiet room. “Cum with my cock buried in you and my marks all over this gorgeous ass. Show me who owns every inch of you.”

One hand slid forward, greedy, possessive, fingers splaying wide over the soft swell of your belly. He pressed down hard, feeling the way his cock bulged beneath the plush layer every time he slammed home, and the knowledge wrecked him.

“Fuck, right here,” he growled, palm grinding into your lower stomach, pinning you exactly where he wanted you. “Feel me? Feel how deep I am in this perfect body?”

The pressure made every thrust unbearable, perfect. You sobbed into the sheets, the sensation of his hand holding you there while his cock pistoned faster, deeper, ruthless, turning your brain to static.

“Love this belly,” he rasped, hips snapping with brutal precision, the headboard knocking against the wall in time with his rhythm. “Love how soft it is, how it moves when I fuck you, how it jiggles every time I bottom out.” His fingers dug in, kneading the warm flesh like he couldn’t get enough. “Love feeling myself inside you right here. Love knowing I’m the only one who ever gets to.”

Your arms collapsed completely; you were held up only by his grip on your hips and that merciless hand on your stomach, every thrust driving a broken moan from your throat.

“Rin, I can’t—”

“You can,” he snarled, leaning over you, chest slick against your back, teeth scraping your shoulder. “You will. Gonna fuck this pretty cunt until you cum again with my hand full of this belly you think isn’t perfect. Gonna make you feel me for days.”

He sped up, impossible, hips a blur, the wet sound of him driving into you obscene and intoxicating. His palm pressed harder, fingers sinking into softness, claiming every inch.

“Give it to me,” he ordered, voice cracking with desperation and worship. “Cum all over my cock while I hold what’s mine. Let me feel this gorgeous body shake because it knows who it belongs to.”

The pressure snapped. You screamed, whole body seizing, walls clamping down so hard Rin cursed viciously behind you. Pleasure tore through you in violent waves, your belly trembling under his hand, thighs quaking, vision blacking out at the edges.

He didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He fucked you through it, hips stuttering only when your orgasm dragged him over the edge with you. A guttural groan ripped from his chest as he buried himself as deep as he could go, pulsing hot and endless inside you, fingers flexing possessively over your stomach like he was trying to brand the feeling into both of you.

When it finally passed, he folded over you, both of you collapsing sideways onto the ruined sheets, still joined, still shaking. His hand never left your belly. He kept it there, palm warm and grounding, thumb stroking slow, reverent circles over the soft skin he’d just worshipped so fiercely.

“Mine,” he whispered against the nape of your neck, lips brushing the sweat there. “Every roll. Every curve. Every perfect fucking inch. Mine.”

Rin’s arms curled around you with that effortless strength you still couldn’t get used to. One moment you were trembling on your knees, the next you were lifted, cradled, turned, and settled gently across his chest as if your body had always belonged there. He never pulled out of you; he simply rolled his hips to keep himself seated deep while he rearranged the world so you were lying flush on top of him, soft belly to hard muscle, breasts pillowed against his ribs, thighs draped heavily over his.

The shift made you both exhale at the same time, a low, shuddering sound of perfect fit.

You tried to brace on your elbows, cheeks hot.

“Rin, I’m too heavy like this, I’ll crush—”

He silenced you with the softest, most incredulous laugh you’d ever heard from him. His hands immediately slid to the small of your back, pressing down, gentle but unyielding, until every inch of you melted against him again.

“Shh. Listen to me.”

His voice was velvet and smoke, rough from pleasure but soaked in tenderness.

“I have spent the entire night inside the body you’re calling heavy. I have kissed every roll, bitten every curve, fucked you until we’re both shaking, and I am still hard because I can’t stop wanting more of you. And now you think I don’t want your weight on me?”

His palms began to move in slow, worshipful strokes. One glided up the slope of your spine, tracing every vertebra like he was reading braille that spelled mine. The other settled over the plush swell of your hip, fingers sinking deep into softness, kneading gently.

“Feel this,” he whispered, guiding your hand to rest over his heart. It thundered beneath your palm. “That’s what you do to me. Every pound of you, every gorgeous, lush inch, makes my heart race like I’m seventeen and seeing you naked for the first time all over again.”

He shifted just enough that you felt him throb inside you, a slow pulse that drew a helpless whimper from your throat.

“I love the way you sink into me,” he continued, lips brushing your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “Love how your breasts spread soft and warm against my chest. Love how your belly fits right here—” he pressed his palm to the gentle curve resting on his abs, fingers spreading wide, “—like it was molded for my hands. Love the weight of your thighs over mine, the way your hips spill across me. There is nothing about this that is too much. There is only more to adore.”

You tried to hide in the crook of his neck, overwhelmed. He wouldn’t let you. Gentle fingers tilted your chin until your eyes met his, teal darkened to midnight, shining with something fierce and tender and absolute.

“I want to fall asleep feeling you breathe against me,” he said, voice low and steady. “I want to wake up with your softness pinning me to the mattress and thank whatever god let me have you. I want the ache in my ribs tomorrow from holding all of this perfection exactly where it belongs.”

His arms tightened, cradling you closer, until there was no space left between you, only heat and heartbeat and the slow drag of his thumb tracing the dimples at the base of your spine.

“You are not heavy, baby. You are home.”

He pressed the softest kiss to your forehead, then your eyelids, then the tip of your nose, finally settling on your lips, slow, lingering, tasting like devotion.

“Stay right here,” he murmured against your mouth. “Let me feel every beautiful part of you while we drift off. Let me hold what the whole world is too stupid to worship.”

Your body surrendered completely, melting into him until you were nothing but warmth and trust and the steady beat of his heart under your cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he breathed, lips brushing your skin with every word. “My perfect, gorgeous girl. All mine. Just like this. Always.”

© 2025 yukkigiri ☾ creations by luna — please do not repost, copy, or translate without permission.