#tw kidnapping

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and now, in your own apartment, in the background of your youtube videos. it was a very natural progression, from starting a few fanclubs online as your interest shifted from team to team, to eventually making full-on reviews while mostly glazing your favorite face card at the time. 

you’d earned a sizeable following, made up of mostly women. the men tended to question (rather rudely) whether your interest was genuine, and if you weren’t just openly thirsting over their hardworking athletes. regardless, your videos garnered you enough of a following to allow you to move to barcelona. now you could watch the matches in person, your videos taking on a much more genuine tone as your appreciation for the culture surrounding it grew.

however, recently you’ve been entirely locked in on one person. one man who’s captured your attention to the point of near-madness. every time your eyes found him, your body heated up dangerously. from his tall, muscular frame, to his chiselled face lined with a scar you ached to run your lips across.

bunny iglesias, your undefeated number one obsession for the last 3 years. never before have you stayed so interested in one singular player. and it didn’t look like anything was about to change any time soon.

as the video progresses, you talk more and more animatedly about one of bunny’s passes to lavinho, of course not forgetting how he brushed his hair out of his eyes after he scored the first out of his three goals that match.  

it’s when you replay some of the footage that you pause at someone who isn’t bunny.

“oh!” you clap your hands with a sweet smile, “sae itoshi~ he’s so good too. not better than bunny, though. i loved his assist for leonardo luna, he’s really skilled!”

you’re visibly shaking in your seat as you rewatch the final goal of the match, scored by your bunny. “see that?!” you gush, “that’s why he’s my favorite. he’s so amazing!” 

your squealing and giggling is something you love leaving in your videos, many people have left comments about how cute it was and how contagious your excitement was. it was truly such a beautiful corner of the internet that you’ve managed to create. all because of your boy-crazy, or rather, bunny-crazy nature. 

“right~ this was such a wonderful match, and i’m so happy i got to see it in person!” you swing your legs back and forth, swaying in your chair a bit. “next week there’s a barcha meet and greet! of course i’m going. i really want bunny to sign my jersey!”

“see you guys again soon, i’ll make a video afterwards, as always~ bye bye!”

now to editing, reviews like this are best uploaded as soon as possible.

° ⋆˖ ‧ ᯓ⚽︎ ₊˚.

lavinho’s house is loud. bunny knew this, and yet still somehow agreed to come. music blasting from the speakers while the two of them lounge on a couch that’d easily fit over 15 people. his red eyes devoid of.. anything really, focus on the ceiling while his senior yaps away about the recent match. his excitement palpable, his pride oozing off of him in spades. scrolling through his phone grins maniacally and scoots closer to bunny and passes him his phone. 

“ever seen her before?” he questions, eyes darting between him and the woman on the screen. 

bunny squints, examining the title ‘barcha vs re al review & commentary’. “why would i care?”

lavinho laughs him off, “dude, she’s like your biggest fan! a cutie, too.” he presses play.

the next minute that bunny is subjected to your grating fascination feels like it took years off his life. which, honestly works in his favor. the smile on your face has his gut churning, the food he consumed about half an hour ago threatening to come back up. 

yet, he chuckles along with lavinho, “a pretty face, for sure.”

“dude, i watched some of her vlogs, she’s hot as fuck. maybe she’ll be at the meet and whatever,” the older player ponders, “wonder if i can get her number. she looks like a good time.”

bunny has long since tuned him out, trying to keep his nausea at bay. the joy in  your voice, the happy aura you exuded even through a screen incited a type of disgust he hadn’t felt in a long time. that spark in your eye was as vomit inducing, as it was fascinating.

fascinating enough for him to be scrolling through his phone that same evening, torturing himself with every video you’ve ever made. dedicated as he was, he started at the oldest public one, which happened to document the start of your infatuation with him. 

as the videos progressed, your descriptions of him shifted from shallow ‘hot’ and ‘attractive’ to slightly more introspective  ‘skilled’ and ‘quick on his feet’. something that hasn’t changed was your undying elation whenever you spoke of him. your smile only got brighter with every video, and sometimes you’d even (what he assumed was) forget to edit out you fanning yourself as it all just became too much and overheated your soft body. not like he was paying attention to that whenever he watched your vlogs. which showed your whole body. usually dressed in some tiny skirt which he also totally didn’t pay attention to. until he did. 

he grimaced, already dreading the moment he may potentially face you at the fanmeet lavinho mentioned, one he totally forgot about. 

his eyes dart to his bathroom door, maybe if he finally stopped being a coward, he could finally pull through and not have to go to some stupid fan meet at all.

° ⋆˖ ‧ ᯓ⚽︎ ₊˚.

but the day does arrive, luckily for you. camera in hand ready to snap a few pictures and maybe some footage, donning your trusty ‘iglesias’ jersey, you set off to the venue. the walk there, in the scorching sun, is aided only by the sea of barcha adverts left and right as a last minute extra promotion of the event. 

as bunny’s biggest fan, you must be there first, though. your feet take you there at a speed rivaling the fastest speed-walkers on earth, the camp-nou stadium comes closer and closer. little skirt swishes around your thighs, flimsily held down by the slightly-too-big jersey. 

your gigantic smile has a few people looking at you weirdly, but you pay them no more mind than a brief wave. if you’re having a good day, you might as well brighten a few others.

a line has already formed, but it’s definitely not too bad. especially given it’s still two hours until the doors open. you choose to watch some recent match replays, it would make for good conversation material.

though, any and all things you could’ve thought of didn’t matter the moment you were face to face with the one and only bunny iglesias. thoughts evaporated the moment his soulless red eyes met your glossy ones. forced to fan away your tears before you became a wreck, you smile brightly at him while you introduce yourself. “i’m s-such a big fan!”

you didn’t anticipate being so nervous. not at all. and yet here you are, stumbling over the most basic sentence he’ll likely be hearing all day today. 

his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s enough for you anyway. 

“what would you like me to sign, muñeca?” he takes the cap off of his marker, his tone barely differing from monotone. 

you immediately hold out the bottom of your jersey, face heating up. “i should’ve probably not worn it, huh? that’d be easier.”

he merely shrugs and signs it anyway, “you’re far from the only one.”

you nod, hands shaking as you feel the brief warmth of his near you. you examine his face, especially the scar. it’s pretty and pink-ish. you’ve read some comments from people who thought it was ugly, how it ruined his pretty face, but you couldn’t disagree more. he wears it well. so well, your lips itch to soothe any discomfort those comments may have caused him, had he seen them.

you don’t even realize he’s already done, now just eyeing you boredly while you basically eat him with your eyes. as if burned, you let go of your jersey, letting it fall back against your thighs. “i’m sorry! and thank you!” you ramble, moving to the next player. and the next. and after another five, you land right in front of lavinho. 

he’s sporting a smirk so cunning you shrink into yourself slightly, but smile nonetheless. “hello!” you introduce yourself, and he repeats your name to you while chuckling.

he signs a piece of merch you’ve placed in front of him, a barcha flag, and makes sure to touch your hand with his as he gives it back. “you’ve got that little youtube channel, no? real cute.”

you nod, face heating up all over again, “right! do you watch it?”

“how else would i know?” he winks. “you’re always so happy, it’s infectious. even showed you to bunny the other day.”

your eyes widen, “really? what did he say?”

“he’s a buzzkill, first and foremost,” he shrugs, “said you’ve got a pretty face. that was it.”

ah, of course. 

“but!” he smirks, “i certainly think there’s more to you.”

what do you call this? some sort of divine intervention? security tells you to move along, and even lavinho can’t do anything about it. animatedly complaining to the guard while you wave to him with a small, uncomfortable smile. 

even though the stadium is an open-roof establishment, exiting it still felt like a breath of fresh air. well. only thing left to do now is make your promised video. 

ringlight on, signed jersey and other signed items laid out in front of you, you start recording.

“hello everyone!” you smile wide, cheeks hurting, “i just came back from the event, and as promised i’m here to tell you all about it!”

unable to help yourself, you pull up the jersey first, fists clutching it so hard your knuckles start hurting. “i got it signed! my bunny jersey! personally signed!” you squeal and giggle. the usual works whenever you talk about bunny. 

“he was really nice to me, even though i was like, ugh- insanely awkward!” you scrunch your nose before you remember the most important detail. “wait, you guys-! he actually held this in his hands! oh-em-gee!”

you sniff it, giggling maniacally. “holy shit!”

“oh, i’m never washing this again.”

° ⋆˖ ‧ ᯓ⚽︎ ₊˚.

bunny’s lip is pressed tight between his teeth, phone nearly cracking from the deathgrip he has on the poor thing. echoing in his dark room is your voice, laughing and squealing about him. his brows furrowed while he fists his cock angrily. 

whether he’s angry at you or at himself, he doesn’t wish to think about. what he does know is that his current predicament is a hundred percent your fault. whatever it is that you put in your videos, be that your skimpy outfits, or just his jersey, has stuck to him enough he can’t help seeing your stupidly cheery face even when he closes his eyes. and that perfume you wore while at the stadium, it was so sickly sweet he had to try his best to not send you away. 

and yet, here he is. in his bed, jacking off until the skin of his dick is raw. his eyes laser-focused on your face and his torso already covered in two loads. nothing is enough, there’s simply too many videos about him that you’ve made. too much content of you basically worshipping him to get through. and all of it makes his dick so hard he feels like dying. nothing new there, though.

with a few last strokes as you sniff the jersey, he cums a final time, his dick finally giving up as it softens. 

bunny pants heavily, staring at his now dark phone screen. what the actual fuck are you doing to him? and how can he make it stop?

he sluggishly walks over to his bathroom and switches on the shower. a good question, does he even want you to stop? 

the cold water soothes over his heated skin, though it does a piss poor job at actually washing away the partially dried cum off his chest. he can’t help agonizing over the fact that for the first time in a while, someone has affected him. sure, he still can’t wait until the sweet embrace of death graces him, but with you by his side.. worshipping him, loving him.. the wait may no longer be so agonizing. 

he closes his eyes, and as expected, the image of your sheepish smile from where you were sat a mere few centimeters away from him is right there. how disgustingly cute. that spark in your eyes, how full of life you seem to be, both on- and off screen. truly appalling. 

his next match is next week. surely you’ll be there too. you said you always are. and certainly, you won’t mind a ticket upgrade.

the next day he tells his team to send you a vip ticket. doesn’t specify why, and by now they know not to question him.

much to his own chagrin, the days leading up to the match are no different for him at all. his cock weeps anytime he hears your voice through the speaker of his phone. the hours of content now reduced to rewatches as time slips through his fingers and washes away with each cooling shower. finally, something to do instead of agonising over his pathetic life. 

the crowd cheering as he enters the field holding a child’s hand is background noise, his focus entirely on the vip section of the stands. 

lo and behold. you’re right there. eyes bright, hands clapping as you shout your lungs dry, he’d recognize your voice anywhere by now. 

bunny’s mood sours and brightens at the same time, if that’s something that was even remotely possible. the former because your voice screeches through the noise of the crowd, standing out in the most obnoxious way, and the latter, because that jersey he signed that you were sniffing in your video is hanging off your frame so deliciously it makes him want to bend you over and flip up that tiny excuse of a skirt up and take you in front of everyone. 

alas, he’s got his god-forsaken match to play. the darned whistle blows, and off he goes. a pass there, a defender getting in his way here, another pass from lavinho, and unsurprisingly to everyone present, bunny scores within the first 10 minutes. 

he sends a cheeky smile to the camera, throwing up a peace sign before his eyes find their way back to you. there are tears running down your soft cheeks already, you poor thing. he immediately regrets looking over, because the sight of your wet face has his groin stirring like it never did before. 

the young striker's eyes widened. oh, he just found his new favorite expression. people crying has always brought a ghost of a smile to his face, but on you it’s like an entirely new concept. now, if only he can manage to wring those tears out of you in a different context. that is something worth living for. 

the rest of the match he has to actively stop himself from searching you out. if your emotional state got him that distracted at one glance, it could cost him dearly. 

so, goal after goal, with one in between by lavinho, and two lucky ones from the opposing team, barcha wins. 5-2. 

only then does he dare another look in your direction, a mere few feet away from your section. your eyes are already set on him, the wonder and the admiration oozing from you in both sobs and claps and screams of joy. 

in spite of the overwhelming amount of press that will no-doubt capture this moment and plaster it everywhere they can while his pr-team tries to control the damage- he winks. right while making eye contact with you. the camera’s already focused on him, capturing the moment in real time. the stadium erupts in another wave of cheers, while he sees you freeze in your place. aren’t you just so awfully adorable.

without looking back, he’s off to entertain the celebrations for as little as his team lets him get away with before he’s on his way to the locker room, his ear already talked off by his manager about the ‘inappropriate interaction’. 

bunny waves him off, instead instructing him to make sure you get to him. “locker room- whatever you can manage. let me know where she is. i need to speak to her.”

he hears a frustrated huff behind him, and smirks as the footsteps get further and further away; while the sweetheart plaguing his mind is only getting closer and closer.

but when bunny finally exits the locker room, you’re nowhere to be found. there’s not even a call from his manager that you’ve left before he could get to you. 

the scowl on his face has even lavinho backing off from his usual teasing, especially after the stunt he just pulled. “easy there, tiger. what, i thought you weren’t all that impressed with the girl?”

of course, the old fool can’t help himself. “don’t even start,” bunny dismisses him, tone clipped. the cars to take them home are in sight, reporters crowding the exit for one last feature, one last question they’ve all heard before. he brushes past them, mics ignored and overlooked.

his mood entirely ruined, plan in shambles- oh.

he steps inside his car, and aside from the driver, there’s a very, very nervous figure. guess his manager came through better than he expected him to.

bunny can’t help the wide smile from spreading across his face, “hello there, muñeca.”

° ⋆˖ ‧ ᯓ⚽︎ ₊˚.

the moment you register that wink, your world stops. the noise of the crowd blurs into background white-noise, and all you see is bunny’s eyes focused right on you. and then just as fast, his back is turned and he walks off. leaving you there, stunned and with your heart racing. even if you hadn’t been a fan of him before, this certainly would’ve cemented you as one. 

as if the tickets weren’t enough. 

wrapping up another video, a simple vlog where you expressed your excitement for the upcoming match, you receive a new email on your business account. 

something something ‘mr. bunny iglesias’, something something ‘vip tickets’. had you been holding something it would’ve clattered to the ground. 

the sound that escaped you then had your neighbors worried enough to knock on your apartment door, believing you might have just been murdered. 

luckily, you were most definitely not. although you might as well have died and come back alive with the violent surge of emotions coursing through you then, as well as now as you watch bunny’s figure get smaller and smaller as he approaches his teammates. 

the celebrations rage on around you, while the less invested leave the stadium in droves. you have half a mind to record anything, being so close to bunny kind of sabotaged your recording efforts. why would you stare at him through the lens of your camera when you can, and did, stare at him from the very front; too busy screaming your throat raw to record. 

when you did finally come-to, it was really only briefly. a firm grip on the shoulder, you’re now faced with no other than mr. manager. bunny’s manager. he looks less than thrilled, his voice strained as if doing this was fully against his will, “he wants to see you.”

your immediate assumption would be some sort of corridor, maybe an office as you trail behind the speed-walking man. “uh- sir? may i ask why?”

 ï’ve got no bloody idea.”

you get neither of those options. instead, you’re ushered into a car before he slams the door. the car is then driven to the exit where you wait anxiously for bunny to show up. it’s honestly a bit too much all at once, tears gather in your eyes and you sniffle. it’s not only the prospect of being semi-alone with bunny, but being personally asked to show up is such an otherworldly concept in and of itself. 

you pick at the hem of your skirt as you examine the car. the seats are a comfortable, red leather, the windows obviously tinted, and a wall-like construction to separate the passenger from the driver which is currently pulled up. you have no idea who’s behind the wheel and maybe that’s for the better. there’s no need for anyone to see you crying to yourself, makeup probably smudged a bit already. 

as time passes, your excitement grows the longer you’re kept in suspense. your lip more and more raw the longer you chew on it, nerves buzzing. what will you even say?

until finally, the door clicks open. a very annoyed bunny steps inside, and briefly pauses once his eyes land on you. his posture now much more relaxed, a wide smile spreads across his face, “hello there, muñeca.”

it takes a superhuman effort for as little as a small wave, his body so close to you it’s hard to even breathe. “hi…”

his eyes scan you head to toe, darkening when they settle on your soft thighs which are barely covered by the poor excuse of a skirt you tend to wear. he then looks back to your face, smile softening into a subtle smirk, “why so nervous? you’re usually so… outspoken when it comes to me.”

your tongue ties as his body leans closer. a hand on your thigh has you malfunctioning briefly before you muster a quiet: “it’s different.”

“different how?” he immediately questions, his face mere inches away from yours. “i have to say, your excitement is cute, but this? this sweet, sickening shyness-”

he leans in until your lips nearly touch, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper, “it’s doing things to me, and i hate it.”

he tilts his head to the side, eyeing you with a faux pout, “it’s been keeping me up at night, you know? it’s stressful, and it may impact my performance… what if you lose interest in me then? i don’t know what i’d do if i lost the support of my biggest fan.”

the tip of his finger traces your jaw, down your neck and the neckline of the jersey, “it may just make life.. a little less worth living.”

then just as fast, he’s back in his own seat, a nearly pleasant smile on his face as he chuckles, “you’ll help me fix it, won’t you?”

stunned doesn’t even begin to cover what you’re experiencing, but it’s soon replaced by a sinking dread. a fear you didn’t know you could experience outside of some really good horror movies.

you find yourself nodding insistently, hands folded as if you’re begging, “o-of course!”

there’s no world you can imagine yourself enjoying if bunny wasn’t in it. he’s been the center of your life for the last three years, and you’d be damned before you let anything happen to him. besides, if it really is your fault, it’s only fair you help him out. however that help might look like. 

his smile widens, although it does not reach his eyes, “i knew you’d be good.”

it doesn’t matter if he meant it as a compliment, you take it as one anyway as your chest warms, same with your face and neck. your hand covers your mouth, disbelief still clouding your mind. 

soon, the car moves in a direction entirely unfamiliar to you, the way richer part of barcelona you’ve never stepped foot in. your attention, however, isn’t focused on the outside long. a hand on your thigh recaptures it, making you look back at bunny curiously.

the look in his eyes is unlike anything you’ve seen before, in anyone. his red eyes don’t usually show any emotion, be that on the pitch or during press interviews, yet what you find is nowhere near empty. instead, combined with a small smile, a deep-rooted tiredness gives way for interest. curiosity. excitement? his brow twitches, and you feel a nail dig into your thigh, almost painfully so while his grip tightens. 

a warmth pools in your belly, he’s so close, way more attractive than you’ve ever seen him. even the sweaty, shirtless paparazzi pictures from a few months back didn’t get you going nearly as much as his touch currently is. his hair still slightly wet from his shower, black tanktop clinging to his muscled torso, and god… his scars. all of them look like they’re aching for some love, and you’d be damned if you let this chance slip by. 

“we’re almost there,” he says, though it sounds mildly like a warning. 

you tilt your head, leaning into him unconsciously, “where?”

a corner of his lips quirks up an easily missable bit, “my apartment.”

his hold switches from your thigh to your hand, the imprint left by his nail drawing a bit of blood. before you can even mention it, he’s already tugging you out of the car, the tiny drop runs down your leg. “bunny-”

“got a bit carried away,” he brushes you off, he squeezes your hand, the pressure on your knuckles causes you to grimace briefly. 

but that is all forgiven and forgotten once he gets you in the elevator, both of his hands on your hips as he makes you face him. there’s a tone to his smile now you can’t put your finger on, but neither do you want to when he leans down to press a few kisses on your neck and up to your ear. a shiver runs down your spine, the tickling pleasure has your hands scrunching his tanktop in your hands. “a-ah~”

your eyes flutter shut while he starts to softly suckle on the skin right under your ear. though with each suck it’s like he gets hungrier and hungrier. he switches spots, the previous one already bruising. your knees buckle, but he holds you up, hands switching from your hips to your ass as he squeezes.

“bunny..!” you moan, and you feel him stiffen for a second before he resumes, harder and greedier than before. he kisses up your jaw before he plants a hickey there too. 

then, the elevator door opens and you’re startled out of your haze. bunny doesn’t seem too bothered, but he still stops. his eyes are barely open; you’d say he’s drunk if you didn’t know any better. 

he then grasps your hand again and drags you along to his door, his steps large and hurried, and very hard to keep up with. you’re out of breath by the time you get to the door, which unlocks and slams shut behind you in a split second. you don’t even have the time to process your surroundings before you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, his lips on yours in a display of lust you’d never thought you’d be on the receiving end of. his hands cup your cheeks, keeping you in place while he forces his tongue inside your mouth. his whole build somehow manages to completely dwarf you, and his hands soon get bored as they travel down to your chest, one of them lingering to squeeze your throat. the surprised sound you let out has him smiling into the kiss, though it’s more tongue-sucking at this point. and still, he goes down further, pinching your nipples which are so hard they poke through your flimsy bra and jersey.

the lack of air has you light-headed, the pleasure of him feeling you up clouding the remaining sense you’ve got. his presence is so intense in and of its own, the heaviness with which he’s rooted in his spot, keeping you pressed between him and the wall makes it impossible to push him away even the tiniest bit for that little bit of relief. 

just as you feel yourself getting weaker, he pulls away, panting. his hands hold you up by the waist, his eyes scan over your already fucked-out face with an eagerness that feels entirely unfamiliar to even someone like you, who’s been dutifully analyzing him for the last 3 years. 

you don’t even know how you get to the bedroom, splayed out on your back while he sits back on his haunches. he examines you like some experiment, fingers tracing from your jaw, down to your neck, over your covered breast and hardened nipple, down your soft belly and then over the junction between your belly and thigh where he lingers a few centimeters above where you actually need him most. his touch is featherlight, combined with the fabric still covering you it’s easy to think you’re imagining it. and yet he’s there, watching your face for every twitch, every microexpression and with every noise you make his own expression gets tighter and tighter. if you had any clarity left, you’d be inclined to question why he looks like he doesn’t really want to be here. 

suddenly, your skirt is gone. it falls down to the floor where bunny dropped it haphazardly. he leans over you a little more, bunching your jersey around your waist. your sweet, pink cotton panties with a little bow are on full display, the wet patch on the gusset giving away how your body aches for him. as if your whole body being so pliant for him didn’t do so already.

your brain is nearly melting out of your ears when his hands reach your inner thighs. still nowhere near your soaked core, which he can definitely see get wetter and wetter with each caress. you want to be embarrassed at how clear your need for more is, small whines and whimpers spill past your lips any time he gets even that tad bit closer.

until finally, he pushes at your thighs, spreading you open for him. he pushes them down, almost folding you in half before he runs his thumb over the ruined fabric of your underwear. from your twitchy clit to your fluttering entrance. he presses a bit harder there, almost pushing in with the fabric still in between. 

it has your whines increasing in volume, head thrown back at his teasing. “y’re so mean..!”

“mean?” he questions, “you’re the mean one, looking away from me while i try to make you feel good. eyes on me please, muñeca.”

his tone sounds just disappointed enough for you to look back immediately, cheeks flushing with heat as you bite your lip, “i’m sorry.”

“good. remember you’re doing this for me, yeah?” he smiles sadly, “i don’t want to feel bad anymore.”

“of course.” the guilt eats you alive. he’s being so nice to you, and you can’t help being impatient. calling him mean? that was too far. tears gather in your eyes, “i’m really sorry.” 

he leans his head against your thigh, his fingers running up and down your clothed slit while you shudder. he looks as if you kicked him, “you’ll still help me, right?”

you nod, eyelids fluttering from the pleasure. “y-yeah.. ah!”

your eyes widen as he slides your panties to the side, fingertips making direct contact with your throbbing clit. he rubs agonizingly slow yet precise circles over the bud, all while maintaining eye contact. he watches you intently as he speeds up and slows back down. he then sits back up, slides his fingers down to your entrance, and pushes two fingers in to the knuckle. 

his eyes widen as your hips buck and eyes squeeze shut, the moan you let out so is pornographic it’d make a virgin cream his pants immediately. 

the relief of finally being filled, especially when he curls his fingers immediately has your head spinning. 

unfortunately for you, it’s taken away just as quickly. your cunt now empty and fluttering and leaking copious amounts of slick makes you cry out, “bunny! please, please, i need it!”

° ⋆˖ ‧ ᯓ⚽︎ ₊˚.

bunny hoped getting you under him would solve this nearly crippling disgust he felt around you and your content. the fascination that kept him coming back for more bordered on an addiction, one with a sick and painful aftermath as his cock screams for rest after he’s jerked off for the 7th time that day. 

but nothing could’ve prepared him for the up close view of your tearful eyes. your cunt spread open for him, neck and jaw lined with bruises and the tiny wound surrounded by dried blood on your inner thigh makes his head spin. his patience has run dry. the moment he felt you envelop his fingers in your needy heat, it was over. 

he basically rips his clothes off, and in one slick thrust, his fully hard, abnormally thick dick is forced all the way inside your pussy. his heart soars, filling up the otherwise empty space. 

but oh, the tears streaming down your cheeks, the frantic spasms of your cunt as you try to adjust and the sobs. oh, the sobs. he can’t decide whether he wants to look at your cunt or your face more. both are wet, extremely so. though the tears running down your cheeks is what he’s been after this whole time.

your cries are like a balm to his scattered soul, the way you claw at his arms, his chest, begging and trying to be as close to him as possible. it’s all too much. he knew this would relieve him, even if only temporarily, but not even his wildest dreams could’ve prepared him for the absolute euphoria of seeing you cry up close. 

bunny leans down, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist, his hands bracing on the sides of your head. he feels your arms wrap around his torso, and he could damn well start crying too. 

and he almost does, once your lips make contact with one of the scars on his shoulder. in between your sobs of pleasure, he feels you whimper as you kiss along the marred skin. his hands grip the sheets underneath, eyes widening. “oh, hermosa..”

he nearly chokes, eyes glossing over for a second before he forcefully blinks it away. whatever you just did to him, you may just start wishing you hadn’t. 

he looks down at you, where you’re still going at it, trailing kisses wherever you can reach as the force of his thrusts push you up and down the bed. overwhelmed with emotion, bunny leans down and captures your lips with his again. he can’t have you getting carried away, the pressure on his chest grows rapidly on its own even without your help.

he feels his own cheeks getting wet as he continues kissing you, dutifully swallowing your moans while his cock somehow only gets harder. 

somewhere in between his assault on your mouth he hears you mumble that you’re about to cum and it has him pulling away immediately. he needs to see your face while you fall apart. he speeds up, encouraging you, “come on, give it to me.” 

your cries gradually get more frantic, higher in pitch before he feels a warm liquid spray his abdomen. your eyes roll into the back of your skull, and your mouth hangs open so obscenely he can’t help wishing to stuff his cock inside there too. even more tears stream down your cheeks and your cunt squeezes him so tight it forces his own orgasm out of him. his balls tighten, and he grips your waist to keep you locked onto him as he spills inside. “f-fuck-!”

his whole body is white hot with an emotion so new to him it leaves him speechless. he waits until you come-to, but it seems the whole ordeal was intense enough for you to knock you out cold. your breathing slowly evens out while he stays buried inside you, plugging you up. 

with gentle hands, he caresses your body up and down. from a brief massage on your thighs to using his shirt to wipe down your sweaty forehead. he leaves the tear stains though. he thinks they make you look absolutely gorgeous. 

from wanting to vomit at the sound of your stupidly cheery voice to jacking off to your videos nearly 24/7 to now wanting nothing more than to wring out every noise you could possibly make. 

bunny is truly baffled at what you’ve managed to do to him, his heart finally doesn’t feel like a void, and the thought of you leaving feels like ripping that all away. 

he smirks, the first bits of white escape around his softening cock. there’s a myriad of ways to keep you here. and he intends on using any method that sticks. 

he cleans you up; his version of it is to take his cock out, push the cum back in with his fingers and pull your panties back over your cunt. he gives your pussy a loving pat for good measure.

he’ll let you sleep for now, and he’ll join you soon. but first, a few arrangements are to be made.

° ⋆˖ ‧ ᯓ⚽︎ ₊˚.

you wake up with your body sore, the only comfort being the big, warm body spooning you. you rub your eyes, the area between your legs is uncomfortably sticky and your face heats up as you remember why. never in a million years would you have thought you’d ever get to sleep with the bunny iglesias, and yet, he sought you out himself. 

that’s obviously a detail you’ll omit in your new video. 

you take a moment to enjoy the body heat, while you replay yesterday over and over in your mind. you’d never taken a cock that big before, and you can’t get over how little resistance your cunt provided. he really just does turn you on that much. 

bunny stirring behind you has you laying entirely still, hoping he’ll think you’re still asleep to stay here just a minute longer. 

“good morning,” he mumbles into your neck, his hoarse, speel-ridden voice slicking your cunt all over again.

you yawn despite yourself. hoping to hide your disappointment you mumble a small and sleepy: “good morning.”

you wait for him to send you away, any type of ushering out the door, but instead, he just pulls you back closer, “sleep well?”

“huh? oh, yeah. very well, actually.”

“good,” he murmurs, caressing your thigh.

it’s almost as if he’s fallen back asleep, leaving you in a frankly uncomfortable silence as you’re unsure how to proceed. 

deciding to take matters into your own hands, you lift his arm from over your waist and lay it back down on the mattress gently. you manage to find your skirt, which is very easy given his clean bedroom floor, and put it on. with one last look at his handsome face you step out of the room, finding your shoes scattered over the hall. you hadn’t gotten a good look at his interior back when you came here yesterday, but he’s got an impressive amount of recording equipment yet to unpack in his livingroom. you’re almost jealous. equipment like this would elevate anyone’s content into virality for the quality of the footage alone. 

you put your shoes on, and walk towards the door with a sigh. 

huh?

the door won’t open. all the inside locks are unlocked, though.. maybe it’s just the regular key lock? you look around the hall and find a bunny keychain with a few keys. right! one of them must be it. 

but right as you slide in the first one, someone clears their throat behind you. humiliation flushes over your whole body and you’re paralyzed in your spot. slowly you turn around to face none other than the only other person in this apartment, bunny.

“where do you think you’re going?” he asks calmly, his smile icy cold. devoid of any of this morning’s affection.

“just.. home?” you try to respond normally, but even such a straightforward and valid answer feels ridiculous under his scrutinising gaze. 

his whole demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. had you actually blanked you would’ve missed it. his smile entirely gone, exchanged for the saddest you’ve ever seen a man. his brows furrowed, lips forming a pout you’ve got to admit is very endearing. 

but the worst part is his voice, cracking at every other word, “you’re leaving me?”

your eyes widen, “w-what? what do you mean? this was just me helping you out, right? didn’t i make up for… whatever it was you wanted?”

he takes a step closer, a conflict of emotions rises within you. panic, but sympathy too.

he reaches out his arms, as if inviting you for a hug, “i’ll be really, really sad if you go.”

you can’t help taking a step closer, voice hesitant, “b-but, i can come back, right? i don’t have to leave forever…”

he sniffles and shakes his head, “i don’t think i’ll survive. just the thought of you leaving makes me want to- it makes me want to-.”

“makes you want to do what, bunny?” you ask carefully.

there’s tears in his eyes now, “i have these pills in my bathroom…,” he chokes.

your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, panic overtaking your whole system. you nearly run into his arms, “no, no! i’ll stay, i promise i’ll stay.”

you bury your face in his chest, heart nearly beating out of yours. 

just as you thought a crisis may have been averted, his giggles reach your ears while his hold on you tightens, “i’m so glad you’re staying! i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

all the blood drains from your face and down to your cunt when he leans in even closer so he can whisper into your ear, “we’ll be together forever, mi vida.”

hermosa = pretty

mi vida = my life

Poor Satoru who thinks that if he makes you, a virgin, orgasm hard enough with his tongue, you’ll be too spent to attempt at intercourse again. He awkwardly stumbles and falls face first into your pussy a few times as he sucks and licks fervently, because he has to somehow give you the best head of his life with his hands tied behind his back while he balances on nothing but his knees.

He’s successful that day, you can barely stand up for almost thirty minutes after he works his magical tongue on you. He coos sweet nothings into the side of your head with your slick still fresh on his tastebuds as you cuddle him in the afterglow, soothing you because part of his heart aches in guilt that he made you cum. Somehow, you’re the victim in Satoru’s eyes. A victim to what was likely a harsh childhood, to mean high school and college cliques, to boys your own age who treat women they don’t find attractive like they don’t have a right to exist, and to a lack of a companion you can rely on to never leave you.

Satoru can’t hold back the strangled groans clawing their way out of his throat when you finally get used to foreplay for a few days and have extra energy to spare for true fucking. He found his brows pinched in concern and tried to comfort you when you panicked at the full feeling in your stomach after sliding the entirety of his well endowed cock into you. You almost took off his chains so he could rub your clit to make it go smoother for you when he genuinely offered— saying something about the most important thing being your comfort, no matter the circumstances.

But then, your elastic insides get used to the stretch faster than he expects and Satoru starts to feel like maybe he’s getting a little too old for this type of sex, because you’re akin to a little bunny the way you hump his lap. He just can’t deny how pleasurable it is to be fucked and sucked in by your wet, little pussy. It’s not like he can do anything about this happening, all he can do is attempt to helpfully talk you through this process and hopefully make this easier on you and your body in the long run, fighting to push comprehendible words of advice and genuine inquiries of how you’re feeling out of his lips through the blinding pleasure.

Satoru told you what to do when, and if, the situation ever comes up where he expresses to you that he’s going to ejaculate. 1. Take that deep breath he taught you to stay calm, 2. stop all stimulation, and 3. dismount his penis completely— also! at least wait until he or you has cleaned all traces of sperm from his penis if you wish to have more intercourse after.

But when Satoru shakily breathes out a clear enough warning of imminent orgasm, you do the exact opposite of his little field guide on how to responsibly have recreational sex. You grit your teeth and bounce harder as he frantically attempts at questioning what you’re doing and if you remember what he told you. And when he lets out a particularly loud and aggressive, “fuck!” followed by a deep, primal, involuntary thrust up into what’s milking him, you instantly stop humping so he can properly inseminate you with your eyes absolutely rolling. You can feel the muscle contractions within his cock jerk and twitch inside your repeatedly vacuuming walls, and you can’t feel the sperm, but you just know that his warm cum is filling your cervix.

To an extent, Satoru understood you just wanted to fuck around and have fun like any other young horny college student, I mean, fuck, he actually gave you permission to hump his dick for this exact reason; it’s is why the field guide was discussed, but this? This is real shit, real life, getting pregnant will change your entire life forever.

For the first time since he’s been taken by you, he’s looking at you like he’s horrified as his body breeds your fertile, welcoming cunt. A few whiny grunts slip out behind his unstable breath and his features twitch behind the shocked expression, showing the deep white hot pleasure pushing through. And then you kiss him. Connected at the top and the bottom of your bodies, kissing him with such a clear passion, yearning for love and care, that Satoru feels that sympathetic pang again, the need to nurture your lost soul.