Sae Itoshi

While Sae wasn’t very fond of Mr. Dabadie, he has grown to tolerate him over the years. His manager has learnt of his dislikes and his habits and was better placed to make unnecessary decisions in his stead— such as interpreting his responses in a more positive manner (Sae didn’t care what the public made of him, but if it weren’t for Mr. Dabadie, he would’ve definitely faced backlash) or what fruits to have delivered to his apartment. Though Sae didn’t make life easy for him, he has grown to have a sort of subtle and begrudging appreciation for him.

For that reason, when he had to go on a paternity leave (twins! He had sent Sae pictures and the babies were admittedly cute) and therefore had to be replaced, the news was met with quite the displeasure on Sae’s end. He knew all too well what awaited him with the new hire; an eager, fresh-faced person enthusiastic to work with Sae Itoshi and who would ‘do their best’ to meet his expectations only to have that hope trampled under his indifference and perfectionist (read: uncooperative) attitude. He thought that, during Mr. Dabadie’s absence, he would probably breeze through maybe 4 or 5 new managers.

You arrived on the first day of Mr. Dabadie’s leave. He hadn’t bothered greeting you at the entrance to the clubhouse or giving you a tour. He half expected that you would get lost trying to find the locker room where he was getting ready, show up late and flustered. But that didn’t happen. You did show up on time, accompanied by Luna, who seemed to be quite chummy with you already. When the idiot left, Sae was alone with you. He barely acknowledged you. Actually, he didn’t. While you introduced yourself, he was hunched over trying up his shoelaces. He didn’t say anything about welcoming you; his back straight, Sae made his way out of the locker room and towards the field. He talked all the while in a clipped, bored voice, telling you about his schedule, his training routine, his diet plan, his downtime, what he expects from you— mostly just for you to stay out of his way and do everything for him— never pausing or giving you time to catch up. By the time he had stepped onto the field, he could see you scribbling furiously on your notepad, and he wasn’t sure whether to feel impressed at your resilience or find it pathetic.

The next day, he woke up in a bad mood expecting tons of messages and calls from you asking him this and that but to his utter disbelief— there were none. The eerie lack of disturbances would have somewhat scared him had it not been a single email which he received.. containing his entire schedule for the day. Oh and you had his usual salted seaweed delivered to his doorstep, sent by his parents. Huh, maybe you had potential.

It turns out that this maybe was a definitely. You were efficient in your tasks, meticulous. You did your part of the job and didn’t bother him. In fact, you kept to yourself a little too much. With Mr. Dabadie, he had been used to small attempts at conversation. With you, it was awkward silence. At least, he thought it was awkward. It was disconcerting, really, but he was too prideful to be the first to speak.

It didn’t help that after the three months or so that you worked there, Sae realized he might.. have a thing for you. He isn’t sure if it’s a genuine liking, but he could attest to one thing; you made him so fucking hard.

He could never stay around you for long— it was not easy watching you prance around in those outfits you wore and his track pants weren’t much help in concealing the tent that always seemed to appear whenever you were in the room. He could hardly keep his eyes away from your ass and god forbid you bend over, or he was done. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’s hard to jerk off in the restroom, but achieved only unsatisfactory orgasms. He knew it had to be you taking care of him— only then would he feel relieved.

The bad thing about you was that you weren’t without looks. You were quite literally eye candy, and he had a feeling that he was no longer the sole reason for why reporters constantly approached left and right. They seemed to want to talk to you more and normally, Sae would have happily welcomed that, left you to fend for yourself against the leeches but no, he nearly popped a blood vessel everytime one of them tried to get their grimy hands on you. He didn’t know if you were oblivious or just plain brainless, because you never tried to stop them. You absorbed every crude remarks with professionalism and it was both admirable and absolutely annoying. Sae had to keep his hands glued to his side lest he does something like pull you towards him, or flip them off.

Sae dropped hints; oh, there was something that he needed to reach for that was on a shelf right above you? Don’t mind him pressing his chest against your back to grab it. You were talking to him about a new sponsor? He would stare at you intently, giving you the perfect bedroom eyes, not that he had to try much for that, expecting you take the hint.

You never did. And the frustration was getting to the point where he was looking like a bumbling idiot on the field, his mind filled with you. He was starting to have a grudge against you.

The final straw came when he was walking by your office and heard it. Laughter. Saccharine sweet. Against his better judgement, he peered inside through the door left slightly ajar to find you conversing with a director. You looked gleeful, eyes crinkling with interest as you listened to the man— whom Sae knew was married— shamelessly flirt with you. He pushed open the door before he could really think about what he was doing and strode inside, back straight and hands in the pockets of his pants. He stopped in front of you and in an authoritative voice, announced he had something to talk about.

“It’s important.” He emphasized, glancing at the director who seemed to bristle at the coldness in his voice. He scurried away, sweating. The moment you and Sae were alone, he wasted no time in fisting your hair, forcing you down on your desk. Papers creased and a pen holder toppled over, sending its content spilling down on the floor. He paid the mess no mind and instead kept his hand over the back of your head. He leaned forward, pressing himself against your back.

“You know, i’ve never met someone as dumb as you.” His voice was low, lips brushing against the skin right behind your ear. His left arm had circled round your waist, fingers splayed across your belly, holding you up against his chest. “Do you do this on purpose? Acting like you can’t see me eye fucking you?”