yunarow

[yunarow]

WARNINGS: NSFW, soft femdom (?), restraint, masturbation, oral sex, vaginal sex, original female character.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: English isn’t my first language, so if it sounds janky sometimes – blame Google Translate, not me. Also, I literally haven’t written NSFW in like six years or so? Rowena Moreau is my original character. This is just a random little "episode" without much context. Sorry if I messed up the warnings, I honestly don’t know how to tag them properly.

"You cant touch me until I allow you. Can you do it for me, Agito?"

She tilted her head slightly, and a strand of hair slid down from her shoulder,  only  emphasizing her nakedness.

He easily could see the perfect semicircles of her breasts and her neat pink nipples, which had already turned into sharp peaks.

Hell, he really wants to put his mouth on her.

Agito’s pale eyes fixed on her, unblinking. That one strand of hair sliding down her chest might as well have been a deliberate strike — her body on display, nipples hard.  His jaw flexed once, the muscle in his cheek twitching as he forced himself still.

“…What?” The word came out flat, but his voice was lower than usual, gravel grinding at the edges, betraying the weight behind it.

Rowena’s lips curved faintly, gray eyes glinting with challenge. “I said — you can’t touch me until I allow it. Think you can manage that?”

Agito’s throat worked with a tight swallow, his gaze dragging from her face down to her breasts, then lower still — the faint tremor in his breath when her legs shifted told on him, even if his expression stayed carved in stone.

He tilted his head, slow, deliberate. “You think I can’t.”

“I think" , her smirk widened as she leaned back slightly on her elbows, arching just enough to push her chest forward "you want to fail.”

Agito’s hands flexed at his sides, massive fingers curling into fists against his thighs. His whole body looked coiled, restrained — the predator caged by his own will. He inhaled once, sharp through his nose, then met her gaze again.

“You’re right,” he said, tone flat as ever. His lips twitched, the faintest smirk. “I want to fail.”

Rowena’s laugh was soft, low, delighted. She shifted again, one knee brushing his thigh as if to test how close she could bring him without breaking her own rule. “Then don’t. Not yet. You can handle it, you're so... disciplined”

Agito’s nostrils flared. His eyes tracked every line of her, the flush on her skin, the way her nipples tightened further under the cool air of her — no, their — bedroom. He didn’t move — not yet. But the tension in his frame was obvious, each ragged breath measured, every muscle screaming to break free of her command.

His voice came low, gravel-deep, almost a growl:“Rowena. Your ideas... insane”

And yet — he stayed perfectly still, pale eyes burning as if he were already memorizing every second of this torture she called a game.

"But you can say things. What do you want to do. Where and how you want to touch me"

Agito’s eyes narrowed at her words, his head tilting just slightly as if testing the weight of them. She was handing him a weapon but demanding he keep it sheathed — cruel, deliberate, exactly the kind of provocation that tightened every muscle across his broad frame.

His breath left slow, heavy through his nose. For a moment he stayed silent, watching her with that stillness that always came before he moved in the ring. Then his lips parted, voice low and flat — but each word edged with heat. “…Your throat. I’d put my hand here.” His fingers twitched once against his thigh, as if they wanted to obey his own command, but he held. “Not to choke. Just to hold. To feel you breathe.”

Agito’s gaze followed her hand as it circled her throat, and something primal flickered in his pale irises. His jaw tightened, the faint twitch of restraint visible in the muscle as he dragged his stare lower, down to the perfect swell of her breasts.

His breath came out rougher now, though his voice stayed flat — the control in it almost harsher for how much heat it carried beneath:

“…Yes. Then lower. Your breasts. I’d take them in my hands… feel the weight. Thumb your nipples until you squirm.”

Rowena’s fingers slipped from her throat down over her chest, tracing the curve deliberately until they brushed across the peaks. She pinched one lightly, a teasing hiss leaving her lips. “Like this?”

Agito’s nostrils flared, his fists clenching once against his thighs before flattening on the sheets — steadying himself.  Eyes locked on hers, sharp, hungry, but still caged by the rule she’d laid down.

“…Harder,” he said at last, voice low. “And I’d take my mouth too. Suck until you begged me to stop.”

Her moan was soft, taunting, her head tipping back just slightly as her fingers obeyed, twisting harder, rolling the sensitive peak between them. She met his stare again through lowered lashes, breath quickening. “Mm… tell me more.”

Agito leaned forward, the huge frame of him shadowing her without touching, his words falling hot and low between them:

“Then I’d go lower. Between your thighs. Spread you open and use my tongue until your legs shook. Hold you down when you tried to get away. Make you come until you couldn’t remember your own rules.”

The way he said it — flat, precise, unflinching — made it land heavier than any groan or plea.

Rowena bit her lip, chest rising faster now, her gray eyes shining with both challenge and heat. She dragged one hand lower over her stomach, brushing her mound, her voice husky: “Then say it. Exactly where you’d touch me now.”

Agito’s breath came harsh through his nose, eyes fixed on the way her fingers hovered just above, brushing her mound like she was testing the edge of a blade. His whole body was a coil of restraint, shoulders tight, fists flexing against the sheets as though it took everything not to break her rule and seize her.

His voice when it came was low, gravel-rough, every word precise like a strike aimed straight at her core:“…I’d spread you open with my hands. Feel how wet you are already.”

Rowena shivered under the weight of his stare, her own hand sliding lower to obey his words. She hooked her finger, dragging it between her lower lips with a slow, teasing motion that exposed her slick folds. Her shiny, lustful eyes locked on his, daring, gleaming. “Like this?”

Agito’s jaw clenched hard, the tendon in his neck standing out. His cock twitched visibly, straining against his control, but he didn’t reach for her, not yet.

“…Exactly like that.” His tone cracked at the edges, but  precision didn’t falter. “Then I’d drag my fingers through you. Slow. Make you feel every inch. Circle your clit until you begged.”

Her breath hitched, and she did it — fingers sliding between her folds, gathering slickness before circling her clit in tight, deliberate strokes. Her moan spilled out, shameless, her body arching.

“The hell,” he thought, “this is so arousing. To see his Rowena touch herself, following his guidance.”

Agito’s breath rasped louder, chest heaving as he watched her obey him without hesitation — her slick fingers moving exactly where he’d said, her  eyes locking on him through the haze of lust. Every shameless sound she made went straight through him, shredding his restraint thread by thread. His fists flexed against the sheets again, knuckles pale, thighs taut with the effort of staying still.

And then she spoke.

"Stroke yourself. I want to see it"

For the first time, Agito’s composure cracked in full. His icy blue eyes narrowed into slits, the weight of her command striking him like a counter he hadn’t braced for. Chest rose in a sharp, heavy breath, shoulders broad and tight as if the sheer will it took to obey had pressed chains over his body.

“…Rowena.” Her name came in low, guttural sound, part warning, part surrender.

But his hand moved. Slow, deliberate, as though even now he refused to let her see him falter. He dragged his palm down his abdomen, over the ridges of muscle, until his fingers curled around the thick length straining against him. His cock pulsed hot in his grip, slick already from the need she’d been feeding like fire.

He stroked once, slow from base to tip, his breath hitching in his chest. His eyes never left her. Sharp, unwavering, burning with the weight of everything he wasn’t saying.

“You’re cruel,” he rasped finally, voice low and flat, though the tremor beneath it betrayed how far she’d pushed him. His fist tightened around his cock, sliding in a steady rhythm as he let her watch, the muscles in his abdomen flexing with every movement.

Rowena’s moan came high and sweet, her own fingers still circling her clit as her hips bucked against her touch. She bit her lip, eyes gleaming with triumph and hunger, drinking in the sight of him stroking himself because she asked. Because she commanded.

Agito’s breath came harsher now, jaw clenched, the cords of his neck standing out as he worked his length with a slow, merciless pace. Every sound she made drove him harder, his voice breaking into a ragged growl: “…This is what you want to see? Me breaking for you?”

Her eyes blazed as she gasped, her slick fingers rubbing faster, shameless. “Yes. Only for me.”

The words tore through him like a strike he couldn’t guard against. His cock twitched violently in his hand, precum slicking his strokes, and his control frayed to threads. He groaned deep in his chest, stroking harder now, eyes locked on her like she was the only thing anchoring him.

"You want it to be me, right, Agito? Do you want me to suck you?"

Agito’s breath hitched, a guttural sound low in his chest as her words slammed into him harder than any strike. His hand froze at the base of his cock, thick length twitching in his grip, veins standing out along his forearm from the restraint it took not to just give in.

Sharp eyes, blazing with cold fire, unblinking. The sight of her sprawled open, fingers circling herself, her voice husky and dripping with challenge, made something primal surge through him.

“…Yes,” he growled, voice rough, low, each syllable bitten off like it cost him to admit. His hand flexed on his cock, sliding up once more in a slow, tight stroke, precum glistening across his tip.

Rowena moaned at his honesty, her gaze hazy but triumphant. She slipped her slick fingers from herself and brought them to her lips, licking them slow, deliberate, letting him see the glisten on her tongue. “Then ask me.”

Agito’s breath came sharp through his nose, his chest heaving as he watched her lick herself off her fingers — slow, obscene, deliberate. His hand tightened around his cock, stroking once more, the wet sound of it filling the charged silence. His pale eyes darkened, every muscle in his frame rigid from the war between his instinct to command and the trap she’d laid for him.

Rowena’s gray eyes gleamed, lips glistening as she sucked her fingers clean, her voice velvet-soft but threaded with steel. “Ask me, Agito.”

He flexed his jaw, a tremor running through the cords of his neck as his restraint cracked further. He leaned forward slightly, shoulders hunching as if to cage her in even from a distance. His hand worked his cock harder now, the thick length slick and pulsing in his fist, his breath breaking into rough, guttural bursts.

“…Rowena,” he ground out, her name half a growl, half a plea. He held her stare without flinching, though the blaze in his eyes betrayed everything he tried to keep flat. “I want your mouth on me. Now.”

The last word slipped out harsher than he meant and it hung in the air like a confession he could never take back.

"Mhmm." Her voice full of lust, velvet and merciless. "Ask me nicely."

Agito’s grip on his cock tightened, every tendon in his neck strained like he was holding back a tide. His eyes burned into hers, wide shoulders rising and falling with each ragged breath. For a man who never begged, never bent, the demand scraped him raw.

His jaw clenched hard, teeth grinding as he stroked himself slow, deliberate, as though he could anchor the storm raging in him. But his body betrayed him: twitch of his cock in his fist, the tremor in his breath when she licked her lips like she already knew the outcome.

“Rowena…” His voice cracked, a low growl, guttural and thick with need. He leaned forward, towering but not touching, his shadow spilling over her. “Please.”

The word came out rough, strangled, like it was wrenched from somewhere buried deep. His gaze stayed locked on her, unflinching, but the hunger there was raw, stripped bare of control. His chest heaved, sweat sliding down his temple, every muscle coiled and trembling with restraint.

“I want your mouth,” he said again, flatter now, but the tremor beneath it betrayed him. His free hand braced on the bed beside her, caging her in without closing the distance. “…Only yours. No one else. Ever.”

His cock jerked in his grip as if punctuating the words, precum slicking his fist, the wet sound loud between them. For once, the Fang of Metsudo didn’t sound like a man in control. He sounded like a man undone.  Only for her.

"Good boy. But you still can't touch me. I will please you, but I want to hear how good you feel, ok? Can you do it, my love?"

Agito froze.  The praise hit his chest like a brand, his cock twitching violently in his fist before he forced himself to let go, fingers flexing open on the sheets instead. His pale eyes narrowed on her, breath dragging rough through his nose, every muscle taut with restraint.

He wanted to touch her.  Every instinct screamed for it,  but her voice had shackled him tighter than chains ever could. He shifted back against the headboard, shoulders broad, thighs spread, his cock flushed and slick and pulsed.

His chest heaved with anticipation, eyes burning into her. He nodded once, short, clipped, the way he would accept terms before a fight. “I can do it.”

Rowena’s eyes became dark, pupils dilated at the rare concession, the way this mountain of a man bent only for her. When she leaned down, her hair brushing across his stomach, Agito’s hands fisted in the sheets at his sides, knuckles pale.

Her lips parted, tongue teasing the swollen head before sliding lower, warm and wet and deliberate. Agito’s head tipped back, a guttural groan tearing out of his chest despite himself. His pale eyes squeezed shut, then opened again, locking on her like he couldn’t afford to lose sight.

“That-...” His voice cracked, gravel-rough. “That...” He swallowed hard, jaw tight, forcing the words out like they cost him. “…That feels too good.”

His hips shifted despite his vow of stillness, cock pushing deeper into the heat of her mouth, only to be met by his own growl as he wrestled himself back into place. His fists twisted harder into the sheets, veins standing out along his forearms.

"You so good" she whispered. "Keep going. If you continue to do as I say, then as a reward you will be able to do with me whatever you want. However you want. As long as you want."

Agito’s entire frame went rigid, the promise seared through him, sharper than any strike, coiling tight in his gut. His cock throbbed on her tongue, hot and swollen, precum slicking her lips as she worked him.

Fists twisted in the sheets, knuckles white, every tendon in his arms straining as if Agito were holding himself against an oncoming tide. His gaze dropped to her face, to the sight of her lips stretched around him, her eyes gleaming up through copper strands.

His hips jerked once despite his control, shoving him deeper into her mouth before he wrenched himself still again with a strangled breath. Eyes squeezed shut, then snapped open to pin her with a stare so raw it bordered on desperate.

“Good… so good,” he rasped, giving back her own phrase in a voice shredded by need. His hands fisted tighter in the sheets, every muscle trembling with restraint. “…Don’t stop. Please.”

She let out a moan of approval, her lips still around his length, her hand stroke the part she couldn't reach with her mouth.

And then her other palm started gently squeezing his balls.

Agito’s body jolted. His thighs flexed hard, muscles cut sharp under his skin, and his head snapped back against the headboard with a guttural groan that rattled out of his chest.

“Rowena...” His voice broke, raw, like he couldn’t decide if it was warning, plea, or surrender. His fists twisted so hard in the sheets the fabric creaked, his knuckles bone-white, every tendon in his arms straining as though he were holding back from grabbing her and ending the torment.

Her palm kneaded him slow, deliberate, rolling the weight of him in her hand while her mouth slid deeper on his cock. The dual pressure — wet heat above, teasing squeeze below — detonated across his nerves, unraveling every wall he’d built. His breath tore out in ragged bursts, shoulders heaving, abs clenching so hard it looked like he was bracing against a body blow.

“Fuck!” The word punched out of him, gravel-ground and raw. His eyes snapped open, blazing down at her, pupils blown wide. His chest rose and fell fast, every exhale broken. “Too good… you’ll...” He cut himself off, groaning low, teeth bared as her tongue dragged against the underside of his cock. "Please... let me touch you"

Rowena’s lips curved around him, a muffled hum vibrating down his length as if she were savoring the sound of his begging as much as the taste of him. Her gray eyes flicked up, sly and dark with triumph, her hand squeezing him just a little firmer at the base while her other palm continued to roll his balls slow, indulgent, merciless.

“Mm… almost there,” she murmured when she pulled back just enough to let her words spill against his slick head, her tongue darting out to lap at the precum glistening there. “But not yet, my love. You’ll wait until I say.”

Agito’s chest heaved, pale eyes narrowing to slits as he stared down at her, not with coldness, but with the feral edge of a man undone. His fists released the sheets for a heartbeat before clenching again, trembling from the restraint that was costing him more than any fight ever had.

“Rowena…” His voice came out a gravel-rough rasp, his control frayed, the plea undeniable even in its clipped delivery. “I need you under me.” His cock throbbed in her mouth, leaking against her tongue, every ragged groan betraying how close he was to snapping her rules apart.

She moaned around him again, hollowing her cheeks to drag him deeper, her hand stroking faster, merciless, her palm still cupping him below. She didn’t stop until his head tipped back with a snarl, the sound ripped raw from his chest, his whole frame shuddering like he’d been struck.

When she eased back just enough to breathe, her lips and chin glistening, she whispered, hot and deliberate: “Not yet, Agito. But you can touch me. Once"

Agito’s eyes snapped open at that — once. The single word struck him like a lifeline and a chain at the same time. His breath dragged harsh through his nose, chest heaving as though he’d just gone ten rounds without pause. For a moment he didn’t move, every muscle in his body coiled, trembling with the force of holding himself back.

Then his hand moved.

Slow, deliberate, trembling with the weight of restraint, his palm rose from the ruined sheets to her face. Thumb brushed the corner of her slick lips, smearing a strand of wetness across her cheek as if to mark her, claim her, remind himself this was real. His fingers slid into her hair, anchoring her — not forcing, not guiding, but grounding. His whole body leaned into the single touch, like he was pouring all of his pent-up need into it.

“…Here,” he rasped, voice low, gravel-rough. His thumb pressed against her flushed cheek, tender where his whole body was anything but. “One touch. Only here.”

Rowena’s  eyes fluttered half-closed at the weight of it, the contradiction of his rough hand holding her so carefully. She nuzzled into his palm, lips brushing his thumb before parting again to take him back into her mouth.

The guttural sound that ripped from Agito’s chest was unlike any he’d made in the ring — raw, unguarded and wrecked.His head tipped back, throat bared, every tendon standing out as his cock pulsed hot against her tongue.

“Rowena…” He growled her name again, the syllables breaking apart under the pressure. His hips jerked despite himself, the single permitted touch not enough to anchor the storm. His eyes snapped down to her again, pale and blazing, the corners wet with the sheer effort of restraint.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

Agito’s breath stalled mid-chest at her words, eyes locked on hers, and for a heartbeat there was nothing but silence — the kind that came just before impact, when a fighter braced for the decisive strike.

His cock throbbed hot and slick against her lips, his fist curling tighter in the sheets as though the fabric alone kept him from lunging for her. He’d already begged. Already bent. And now she was baiting him with the one thing he wanted most — the permission to break.

His jaw flexed hard, teeth gritting as his breath left in a rough rush through his nose. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, gravel-ground rasp, flat at the edges but frayed through the middle:“…Yes.” The word tore out of him. His hand tightened in her hair, anchoring without forcing, his thumb still pressed to her damp cheek like a brand. “More than anything.”

His chest heaved, sweat sliding down his temple, his control shredded down to threads. He leaned forward slightly, towering over her even from where he sat, his voice dropping darker, heavier, as though he were confessing something he couldn’t take back: “I want to fuck you until you can’t breathe my name without breaking apart. Until you know” his breath hitched, eyes blazing with primal fire, “you belong to me.”

The last words landed heavy, rough and certain, vibrating up from his chest like a vow he couldn’t undo. His cock twitched against her lips again, leaking hot over her tongue, his whole frame shaking with the effort of holding still for her answer.

She stopped, withdrew from him completely.

"And who do you belong to, Agito?"

Agito’s breath tore out of him in a harsh rush the instant she pulled back.  Rhe sudden loss of her heat, her mouth, her hands, leaving him straining and trembling. His cock stood slick and furious between them, the veins thick, every pulse of it a betrayal of just how close he was to breaking.

For a moment he didn’t move, didn’t breathe,  eyes locked on hers with the stillness of a predator cornered. His jaw clenched hard, muscle twitching in his cheek, the tendons in his neck standing out as though the answer itself cost him more than the fight to hold back.

His hand slid from her hair down to her throat, not choking, not pressing — just resting there, heavy, deliberate, thumb brushing once against the flutter of her pulse. He leaned in, forehead almost brushing hers, his voice coming low and gravel-rough, every word bitten off like it had been dragged out of the marrow of him.

“…You.”

The single syllable cracked out of him, raw, unpolished. He breathed hard through his nose, icy blue irises burning into her gray ones, refusing to look away.

“I belong to you, Rowena.”

The words hung heavy between them, stripped bare, unflinching. No deflection. No humor. Just the truth.

His chest rose in a ragged heave, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “…Satisfied?”

She give him long, excruciating look.

And then...

"You can take me"

Agito’s breath left in a ragged growl, low and primal, chest shuddering as though she’d just torn the last thread of restraint holding him together. His hand seized her waist, massive fingers spanning her sides as he pulled her down onto the mattress in one decisive movement. His body followed instantly, covering hers, caging her without crushing. Every ounce of his weight braced with the same precision he brought to a fight. His cock, slick and throbbing, pressed hot against her folds as he pinned her with his sheer presence.

Agito drove into her in one smooth, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Her cry split the air, sharp, but he felt the way her body clung to him, walls tightening around his cock like they’d been waiting, aching, for this. His own groan tore out of him, guttural, head bowing as his lips pressed to her temple, then lower, against her cheek. Rough kisses dragged out between ragged breaths.

His hips set the rhythm instantly—hard, unyielding, each thrust a vow that her permission hadn’t gone to waste. He took her like she’d demanded, his cock spearing into her again and again, but the way his hands cradled her — one braced under her back, the other tangled in her hair—betrayed the truth: he was giving as much as he was taking.

Thrusts came deep, ruthless, but the rawness of them carried something more than simple hunger — it was release, surrender, restraint breaking all at once. His cock drove into her with merciless precision, each stroke bottoming out, making the mattress slam against the frame beneath them.

Rowena’s cries filled the room, high and unrestrained, but all he could focus on was the molten vice of her walls clenching him, milking him with every thrust. His chest pressed to hers, their sweat-slicked skin sliding together, the copper spill of her hair tangling against his mouth as he kissed whatever he could reach — temple, cheek, jaw — rough, desperate, reverent.

Her nails raked his back, dragging red lines down over the taut muscle, and his groan broke into a snarl, his rhythm faltering for a heartbeat before slamming back in harder. His hips pistoned, reckless now, driven by the promise she’d given him: do whatever you want… however you want.

“Rowena” her name ripped out of him, guttural, almost strangled, as his control finally gave way. His cock throbbed violently inside her, thick pulses spilling hot and deep as his entire frame went taut, locked in place. His back arched, tendons straining, a low roar torn from his chest as though the force of it was being dragged out of his very core.

The intensity blindsided him. Pleasure cracked sharp behind his eyes, white-hot, until the edges of his vision blurred. His breath stopped in his throat, chest heaving once, twice, before collapsing against her with a shudder that rattled the bed. For a terrifying second he went slack — not unconscious, but hovering on the edge of it, overwhelmed, the raw power of release pulling him under.

Rowena’s arms were already around him, holding him close, her lips pressing soft, frantic kisses to his damp temple, his jaw, his shoulder. “I’ve got you,” she whispered against his skin, her voice steady even as her own body still trembled from the aftershocks.

Agito’s breath dragged back in, rough and uneven, his forehead pressed into the crook of her neck as though grounding himself in her. His weight stayed braced even in exhaustion, refusing to crush her, though his entire body trembled faintly against hers.

Agito’s forehead stayed buried against her neck, damp black strands of his hair sticking to her skin as he dragged air back into his lungs in broken, heavy pulls. Her words slipped into his ear soft and devious at the same time.

"Different than usual, right?"

His chest rumbled with a low, unsteady sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, wasn’t quite a growl. Body still twitched faintly inside her, aftershocks running along every muscle like tremors after a quake. His cock pulsed heavy and spent, still buried to the hilt, as if even release hadn’t been enough to separate him from her.

He shifted slightly, bracing more of his weight on his forearms, his eyes dragging open to meet hers. They were glazed, heavy-lidded, but sharper than they had any right to be after what just ripped through him. He studied her in silence for a long beat — her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips, the smug little curve of her smile.

Agito’s chest was still heaving against hers, every ragged pull of breath dragging fire back into his lungs. The edges of his vision still sparked with white, the aftershock of his climax leaving his whole frame trembling despite his size and strength.

Rowena’s arms cradled him tighter, lips brushing his ear and jaw, grounding him in soft touches that cut straight through the haze. He pressed deeper into her neck, inhaling her scent like it was the only air that could steady him. For a long moment he couldn’t speak — couldn’t move — his body caught in the violent shiver of release that hadn’t fully let go.

Then his pale eyes cracked open, sharp even through the fog, and fixed on her flushed face. She was still smiling — smug, radiant. His jaw flexed once, hard, as though trying to reel himself back into control.

“…Different,” he rasped finally, voice shredded raw. The word vibrated against her skin, half-growl, half-confession.

But even as he said it, his cock gave another involuntary twitch inside her, still pulsing hot, buried so deep it felt like he’d fused to her. He groaned low, head tipping back as his forearms strained to keep his weight from crushing her.

Rowena arched slightly, clenching around him, dragging another sharp exhale out of him that stuttered into a broken sound — something berween moan and snarl.

“Rowe…” His voice cracked hard on her name, guttural, eyes squeezing shut as his hips jerked once more, uncontrolled. The overstimulation ripped through him like a blade through already torn muscle, forcing another pulse of heat deep inside her, his whole body shuddering against hers.

Her eyes widened, then softened instantly as she realized: he was coming again —fast, brutal, unplanned.

Agito’s head dropped to her shoulder, his breath hitching ragged as his cock throbbed violently inside her, milking every last ounce from him. His body arched once more, tendons standing out across his neck and shoulders as he tried (and failed) to steady himself.

“…Fuck,” he ground out, the curse mangled by the force of release. His lips dragged across her damp skin without aim, as if he couldn’t anchor himself enough to kiss her properly.

Then, just as suddenly, his massive body sagged against her. Not crushing — never crushing — but heavy, spent, trembling. His forehead pressed into her collarbone, breath gone shallow, and for a fleeting, terrifying moment his body went slack altogether.

Rowena gasped, arms clutching him tighter, but then she felt it: the faint rumble in his chest, the uneven drag of air returning to his lungs. He wasn’t gone, not completely. Just undone.

Completely, utterly undone.

"Feels good, right?"

"Mhmm" Agito’s chest rumbled with that sound again — somewhere between a groan and a laugh — muffled against her collarbone. His pale eyes stayed closed, breath still ragged, his body twitching faintly with aftershocks that refused to release him. "That’s one way to say it,” he muttered finally, gravel-rough, the words scraped raw from deep in his throat. His lips brushed against her skin with each syllable, not intentional kisses but dragging contact he couldn’t pull himself away from.

She smiled, threading her fingers through his damp hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp."Did you like it?"

His hand slid up her side, rough fingertips trailing across sweat-damp skin until his palm cupped the side of her face, turning her just enough that her eyes met his when he finally lifted his head. His gaze was heavy-lidded, unfocused at the edges, but sharp where it counted — fixed on her like she was the only thing that existed in this world.

"Like it?” His voice came even lower than usual from strain. Calloused thumb brushed across her cheek once, slow, deliberate. “I... blacked out.”

The faintest twitch of his mouth followed. He leaned down, pressing his lips to her damp temple in a rough drag, a kiss that was more instinct than thought.

“You… wrecked me,” he muttered against her skin, flat but edged with a reverence he couldn’t disguise. His chest rumbled again in a half-broken laugh. “And I liked every second.”

Her smile curved wider at that, sly and warm all at once. "Good to know. And I have even more things that I want to try with you! "

His chest was still rising heavy against hers, each breath dragging heat between them, but his grip on her face didn’t ease – thumb brushing slow across her damp cheek as if to steady her… or himself.

"More,” he echoed flatly, voice a gravel scrape that carried both exhaustion and warning. His jaw flexed once, the cords in his neck still taut as his cock twitched inside her, refusing to soften even in the aftermath. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Rowena laughed softly, her gray eyes glinting as she nuzzled against his rough palm. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re indestructible.” She tilted her chin, pressing another teasing kiss to the pad of his thumb.

Agito’s eyes narrowed at her kiss, the flicker of suspicion giving way to something darker — not anger, but that dangerous kind of focus he usually reserved for the ring. His thumb stilled against her lips, pressing lightly as if to silence her teasing before it could get any further.

"Huh?” His voice was low, flat, but the rough edge of it carried heat. His chest rumbled once, uneven, betraying the shiver still running through him. “I just nearly collapsed on top of you.”

Rowena only smiled wider, her laughter soft, infuriatingly tender, as she turned her head to kiss his palm this time, lips lingering against the calloused skin. “And I loved every second of it. I like making you feel good. You deserve it more than anyone else.”

Agito froze at her words. Not from pain, but from the sheer weight of it.  Eyes burned into hers, sharp even through the haze of exhaustion. His thumb pressed harder to her lips, almost reflexive, as though silencing her before she could twist the knife deeper. But his chest betrayed him — a ragged exhale that shook with something other than spent desire.

And when he finally dragged his gaze back up, icy-blues of his eyes half-lidded, the smallest smirk cut across the corner of his mouth.  Faint, unsteady, but real.

"Rowena.” Her name came low, torn straight from the base of his throat. His jaw flexed once, hard, like he was swallowing down words he didn’t know how to shape. Finally, his hand slipped from her cheek to her throat, resting there with deliberate care — heavy but steady, thumb brushing the flutter of her pulse. His gaze didn’t waver. “You don’t know what I deserve.” Flat, precise, but the rough tremor in his voice cracked the armor. He dipped his head, pressing his lips against her damp hair, the kiss awkward, almost desperate. “…But you give it anyway.”

The admission landed raw, stripped down to the bone. He didn’t move after that, didn’t need to. His whole frame stayed braced over hers, trembling still, his cock stubbornly buried deep inside her as if he couldn’t let go —not of her body, not of the words she’d just given him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered before leaning down to steal her mouth in a kiss that was rough, consuming, and entirely too tender at once.

[yunarow]

Hi, a rather special request for Kanoh Agito & Jun Sekibayashi helping their s/o with bad body confidence. I got a mean comment on my weight today and would appreciate some support. 💔

I wasn't sure what sort of body type you're feeling insecure about or your gender, so I generalized & kept it SFW.

Also, listen here to Daddy Icy:

That comment says far more about the person who said it than it does about you. People who nitpick weight usually project their own insecurities or rely on cheap ways to feel superior. It’s not truth — it’s noise.

Also, it’s easy to internalize mean comments, but you don’t owe anyone else an explanation for your body. Treat yourself with the care you’d show a friend if they were hurting from the same words.

And lastly, weight doesn’t erase your value, your beauty, or your right to take up space. 💫

---

🥋 Kanoh Agito

• Agito picks up on your discomfort before you ever say anything — subtle things like the way you tug at your clothes, avoid mirrors, or deflect compliments.

• He doesn’t press for explanations right away; instead, he quietly starts adjusting his own behavior to counter yours.

• When you’re insecure, he looks at you the same way he would before a match — steady, unblinking, intent. It’s not judging. It’s seeing.

• He doesn’t let you shrink away from his gaze, but he never makes it aggressive — it’s grounding, like he’s telling you without words: I see you, and you’re worth seeing.

• Agito isn’t poetic about reassurance — he just says the truth bluntly.

“Your body is strong.”

“It moves well. I like watching it.”

“No one else gets to decide what’s good except you. And me.” (with that faint smirk)

• If you’re hiding yourself with your arms or clothes, he’ll move close enough to brush your hands away — not forcefully, but deliberately.

• He might place a palm against your back or hip, holding you in place just long enough for you to realize you’re not pulling away.

• Agito encourages you to train with him — not to “fix” anything, but to help you feel what your body can do.

• When you land a hit, even a weak one, his brief, surprised grin is genuine. “See? It works.”

• If anyone says something negative about you, they don’t get a second chance — Agito’s presence alone shuts it down. His tone stays calm, but there’s nothing gentle about the way he ends it.

• He knows this isn’t about one big pep talk — it’s about consistently showing up, acting the same whether you’re confident or not, proving through repetition that nothing about your worth changes.

• When it’s just the two of you, he’s even more deliberate in showing appreciation — running his hands over you slowly, studying you like you’re something rare.

• If you protest or make a self-deprecating comment, he’ll stop you mid-sentence: “That’s not the truth. I don’t want to hear it from you.”

🎭 Jun Sekibayashi

• The second you say something negative about your body, Jun reacts like you just announced you’re going to quit wrestling mid-match.

“WHAAAAT? That’s the biggest load of nonsense I’ve heard since someone told me wrestling isn’t real!”

• Jun doesn’t just tell you you’re attractive — he announces it. Loudly. In public. With dramatic flair.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I direct your attention to the most stunning human being in the room—no, in the arena!”

• If you try to hide in a hoodie or behind someone, he’ll sweep you up in a big bear hug and spin you around, laughing until you can’t help but smile.

• Always makes sure you’re physically included in group photos, standing proudly beside him.

• Will straight-faced compare you to legendary wrestlers or heroic characters, using your quirks or features as proof you’re one-of-a-kind.

“You’ve got the heart of a champion and the style of a main eventer. No one else has that combination.”

• If you’re having a down day, he’ll do a mock wrestling promo about you to hype you up.

"The challenger might be feeling low, folks, but mark my words — they’re gonna get back in that ring of life and show us all what they’re made of!”

• Jun is a tactile guy — if you hide or criticize a certain part of yourself, he’s liable to kiss it, poke it, or lift it in a way that makes you laugh and stop thinking so harshly about it.

• He’ll invite you to train, not for looks, but to feel the strength and capability your body has.

• Treats your smallest wins in training like championship moments, hyping you in a way you can’t help but believe.

• Jun never lets the negative talk slide — not because he’s scolding you, but because he wants you to hear his voice louder than your own doubts.

“You’re with me. That means you’re worth cheering for, every damn day.”

[yunarow]

For a moment, Agito just looked at her, eyes narrowed, like he was deciding whether her protest even deserved an answer. Then, without a word, he took the chopsticks, pulled the bowl toward himself, and turned it slightly so it was closer to her.

“You’re making this harder than it has to be,” he said. No edge in his tone—just that calm weight that made it difficult to push back. He caught a piece of braised beef with practiced precision and held it out.

Rowena blinked at him. A flicker of indignation, and right behind it, a ridiculous warmth she didn’t want to name.

“You’re really going to feed me? I’m not a child.”

He didn’t break eye contact, chopsticks steady between them.

“You’re hurt. That’s all I care about right now.” The words left no gap for her pride to wedge itself into.

“I can manage—” she started, but he gave the smallest tilt of his head, the kind of look that said arguing would just waste both their time.

“Eat.”

So she did. Fuck it.

It felt absurd at first—him watching her like this was some kind of high-precision exercise—but the food was good, and Rowena was hungrier than she’d admitted. He wasn’t rushing her, wasn’t hovering. Just waited for her to chew before offering another bite, movements careful and deliberate.

By the third, she shot him a sidelong glance.

“You know, this is dangerously close to spoiling me.”

That earned her a slow blink, the corner of his mouth twitching—close enough to a smile that she knew it counted.

“You make it sound like that’s a problem.”

She arched a brow. “And you make it sound like that’s a good thing.”

Agito didn’t flinch from it. If anything, his gaze settled even more, something quiet and steady in it that made the words land heavier than they should.

“It is.”

After thst, he set the chopsticks down, moved the bowl aside. Shoulders still relaxed, hands loose, but all his attention was on her now, like nothing else in the room mattered.

“You’ve been hurt for four days. You’re not sleeping well. You’re not eating enough. And I’m not pretending I haven’t noticed.”

The way he said it—flat, calm, without any rise in volume—somehow made it hit harder. Like he’d already logged every detail of her state and kept it filed alongside a hundred other things he never voiced.

Her gaze dropped to the bandage, the dull throb in shoulder pulsing with the reminder.

“It’s… frustrating,” she admitted quietly. “I can’t even do something as basic as feed myself without it feeling like a fucking torture”

Agito didn’t cut in. Just waited. When she finally met his eyes again, they were the same—calm, fixed entirely on her.

“You’ll heal,” he said. “Until then, you adjust. And if that means I’m the one doing things you can’t — then that’s what we do.”

She gave a short huff that almost turned into a laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is.” No hesitation.

“Damn, I’m a lucky woman.” It slipped out before she could soften it with a joke.

Something shifted in his eyes—quick, but noticeable. No smirk. No deflection. Just that measured look, weighing whether to let it pass or keep it.

“You are,” he said finally. Then, after a beat, the corner of his mouth twitched, softening it. “And so am I.”

Her chest tightened at that, because he meant it. She could see it in the way he didn’t look away.

Rowena broke eye contact first, taking a sip of lukewarm coffee—at least her left hand could still manage that.

“And who fed you when you got that kind of injury?”

His gaze lingered, and she could almost see him sifting through years, when injuries like this weren’t an event, just background noise.

“No one,” Agito said finally, without a trace of self-pity. “You work around it. Or you don’t eat. Besides, I can use both hands equally.”

Her brows lifted. “Wait—you’re ambidextrous? No, don’t answer. Of course you are. Martial arts and all that.”

A slow blink, the sort that said he found the question unnecessary but was humoring her anyway.

“It’s useful.”

“And your dominant hand, originally?”

“Right.” No pause, like the answer had never needed thinking about.

Rowena leaned back, curiosity still written on her face. “And you trained the other one until it matched?”

A faint shrug. “If one’s injured, you still have to fight. Or write. Or eat. You don’t stop because one side doesn’t work.”

Of course. In his world, patience wasn’t the answer—you just erased the limitation.

“So, in everyday life? If it’s automatic, does the right still take over?”

“It depends. If I learned it with my right first, yes. If I trained it equally, it doesn’t matter.”

“Brushing your teeth?”

“Either.”

“Writing?”

“Right.”

“Opening jars?”

“Either.” His tone was flat, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Jerking off?”

Her mouth curved into a grin, the deliberate mischief impossible to miss.

Agito didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. Just held her gaze, weighing the words instead of reacting to them.

A beat of silence. Then, flat as ever:

“Either.”

Her grin widened. “Wow. Efficient.”

[yunarow]

NSFW alphabet-

I’ve always wanted to do this. I’ve seen other writers do it and it looks like so much fun! Send in some characters!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

[yunarow]

Husband Material 😍 Kanoh Agito

Feel free to keep these. They're just too good.

[yunarow]

My talented man out here making art?? Such a cutie pie!

[yunarow]

“The fang kills the fighting spirit. He roots absolute terror in his opponents and breaks ther fangs”

[yunarow]

Airhead

[yunarow]

[yunarow]

WHO DID WHAT TO DAD???!

[yunarow]

Agito Kanoh headcanon

That feeling when you get obsessed with a character, and now your head is filled with random, oddly specific headcanons you have no idea what to do with.

Sorry, English isn't my first language!

Agito was born in the USSR, Chita. His dad was a med student from Mongolia, and his mom was a young pharmacy student. So yeah, he's mixed—Mongolian from his dad, Belarusian and German from his mom.

His mom had him really early (like, at 19). When he was about three, she was violently murdered, and Agito was handed off to human traffickers.

He was 13 when Metsudo found him, three weeks after the Gu Ritual.

Because he spent so much of his childhood in extremely unsanitary conditions, eating literally anything he could reach, he developed a strong natural immunity against many infections, food poisoning, and even some toxins.

As an adult, Agito consciously avoids foods with intense smells and rare meat, because those things trigger traumatic memories.

Before retiring as Fang, his only experience flying was in Katahara’s private jet. When he traveled on his own for the first time, he flew economy class—and absolutely hated it. After that experience, he deliberately chooses first class only (no crowds, enough legroom).

Not only does he prefer extremely hot baths—he straight-up hates the cold (also childhood trauma-related).

Even now he exclusively sleeps curled up in a fetal position.

Contrary to popular belief, Agito isn't a virgin. He’s got an extremely limited experience, but yeah, he's done it. Though it was purely mechanical, no emotional attachment whatsoever, and he'd leave immediately after finishing.

Once, one of Erio Kure’s grand-nieces literally hunted Agito, with intention on having his child to strengthen the Kure bloodline. It got so bad that Metsudo himself had to step in and stop her (though, Erio wasn’t against the idea either. he even suggested that Metsudo marry Agito off to someone from the Kure clan.)

Metsudo genuinely loves Agito and sincerely considers him practically his own son.

Sayaka still occasionally calls Agito "nii-san" in private conversations.

Sometimes Agito’s speech can sound weird because he learned how to express himself from reading books, rather than talking to real people. It was especially noticeable when he was young, which didn’t exactly help his popularity with peers (though honestly, he already struggled enough socially with kids from Metsudo's orphanage).

Before Metsudo took him in, Agito couldn't read at all, and he spoke a bizarre mix of Chinese and Japanese (mostly Chinese).

Agito’s "Evolution" is literally nothing supernatural—it's just extremely rapid learning, a clear indicator of high intelligence. But he still kind of dumb in a lot of ways

What kept him from completely losing his sanity after multiple psychological traumas and the Gu Ritual wasn't sheer mental toughness, but rather his extremely flexible psyche.

This often flies under the radar since Agito spent so long as Fang of Metsudo and is mostly known for his hand-to-hand skills, but originally he went through serious training to become an elite bodyguard. So yes, he’s also highly skilled with firearms and melee weapons.

By the way, during his training at Katahara’s orphanage, Omori was literally the only one who could reliably beat the crap out of Agito, regularly smacking some common sense into him.

Agito has to shave every single day. If left unchecked, he grows a surprisingly thick beard—which he absolutely hates with all his soul. Due to a certain hypersensitivity, facial hair irritates him immensely: it's itchy, prickly, and overall drives him insane. Once, during his travels, he got stuck wandering the desert for two whole days. He returned with heavy stubble, and the very first thing he did upon reaching his shabby motel room was rush straight to shave it off. Ironically, the rest of his body hair is pretty minimal. And yes, obviously, he exclusively uses a straight razor.