musetheapothecary

[musetheapothecary]

Backshots... Back Pain, Sorry

Aaron Hotchner x fleabag!reader Genre: SMUTTY smut kind of smut. Fluff if you're a freak. Summary: It starts with a back massage, ends with your face in a pillow and Hotch scolding you mid-thrust for arching your back incorrectly. You’d argue, but it’s hard to speak when he’s fixing your posture with his [REDACTED] Warnings: MDNI (established... whatever this is, oral [f!receiving, brief mentions of m!receiving], unprotected p-in-v bc we live on the edge [♫ of glory ♫]), age gap, casual oopsie choking, accidental-but-not-really voyeurism, Hotch is pussy-whipped af but somehow still is a patronizing piece of shit, mentions of Jack (sorry Jack) Word Count: 6.6k Dado's Corner: Phi attempting the “Don’t write Hotch like a pathetic bottom after humiliating him in 30 Seconds” challenge: lasted a strong 30.5 seconds. Proofreading brought to u by Dr. Bin @hotchology PhD

masterlist

The first thought you had when you saw how big Aaron’s hands were was not, (un)surprisingly, that they’d be perfect for back massages.

That was probably your second thought.

Because your first was… well, that those thick fingers looked suspiciously well-suited for another kind of activity involving a lot more curling and a lot more work from his middle and ring finger.

Still.

Now – naked (just the top half, because he insisted. Something about how deep tissue massage works better on bare skin and some other pseudoscientific bullshit you’re trying very hard not to sexualize)- lying face down and completely at his mercy, you have to admit:

He’s freakishly good at the massage thing too.

Also, the noises coming out of your mouth are quite similar anyway.

Same pitch. Same breathlessness. Same “Yes, that’s the spot, sweetheart - like that?” murmured behind you in that pompous gravelly chuckle that does absolutely nothing to help you separate the two scenarios.

At least this time, it’s his thumbs digging into the knot just under your shoulder blades and not… well. Other places.

You don’t know how he does it.

It’s awful. It’s amazing. It makes you want to cry, make out, confess every fear you’ve ever had since the third grade, and tell him about the time you got lost in a supermarket when you were six and never fully recovered.

(Stepping stone of your abandonment issues, actually. Very formative stuff.)

But instead, you just hum.

And before he can tease you (because you know he will, the moment he realizes you’ve melted into a limp, worshipful little puddle over a shoulder rub), you manage to mumble:

“Can you keep doing this forever?”

Also because - small detail, minor point - he’s pinning you to the mattress with his hips. Like, fully. Whole FBI-agent body weight centered right over the curve of your ass.

And every time he shifts - reaching up to get a better angle, dragging his hands (those large, beautiful hands) up the sides of your spine - his hips roll just slightly forward.

And- yeah. He sort of… rocks against you.

Not on purpose.

(Probably?)

(…Definitely.)

Which would be fine. Totally manageable. Not at all a problem - if it weren’t for the fact that he’s wearing the least fuckable pajamas on Earth… which, of course, makes them ten times more fuckable.

Plain, boring navy bottoms. A matching buttoned top. (Aaron Hotchner cannot survive without buttons. He needs order. He needs structure. Even in REM sleep.)

Classic grandpa cut. V-neck just deep enough to show a scandalous sliver of collarbone you might, unironically, faint over.

(Thankfully, your current view is limited to his bedside table: a vintage old-man lamp that costs more than your phone, and a framed photo of him and his son.)

(Hi, Jack. Sorry for having thoughts about your father.)

Back to the pajamas - the most crucial detail is the fabric.

It’s the softest thing you’ve ever touched. High-thread-count sorcery. Probably imported. Definitely overpriced. Breathable, which is just a fancy way of saying stupidly thin.

Thin enough that when he leans in - presses down - you can feel the shape of his-

…Anyway. You’re getting ideas. (Again, sorry, framed Jack.)

“Not to be paternalistic,” he starts. (It is to be paternalistic. Entirely so. But you’ll allow it. You’ll allow anything, frankly, because for some reason it’s insanely hot when he talks like this.)

“-but you shouldn’t have a back like this at your age.”

“Well, thankfully I’ve got your magic hands to fix it, don’t I?” You smile, turning your head to look back at him, because you’re an idiot who still thinks eye contact might save you.

It doesn’t.

What you get instead is one of his signature sighs - the special not-to-be-paternalistic-but-very-much-is variety that sounds like he’s aging ten years just trying to keep you alive - and then a gently condescending lecture about cervical strain and spinal alignment and how you “can’t just twist your neck around if you actually want this to help,” yada yada-

“I know it doesn’t feel like a big deal now, but these things add up,” yada yada-

“I just-can you please take this seriously? I know you joke, but I’d like you to still be able to stand up straight in ten years.” yada yada, (okay, long-term vision, wow, didn’t know we were doing that now) yada yada-

“Sweetheart”.

All of it delivered in that deeply patronizing, annoyingly hot concerned-professional voice he’s perfected.

The one that should be irritating. Would be irritating, If it weren’t currently paired with both his hands kneading down your back, thumbs sinking into that dangerously tender spot just above your hips.

(You would roll your eyes, but you’ve just been told that’s a cervical risk. So you moan into the pillow instead. Respectfully.)

“Breathe through it,” he says. And you do. Immediately. Obediently.

Because he says it so kindly that you have to keep reminding yourself – repeatedly - that he actually cares about your spinal health, and is not, in fact, secretly calculating how many ways you could arch your hips to grind back against his very conveniently located crotch.

(You are. You’re calculating. You’re the problem.)

“Yeah, that’s a good one. Keep doing this,” he says, as his thumbs keep moving - maybe in circles, maybe up and down - you honestly couldn’t say. You’ve lost all grip on spatial awareness.

All you know is there’s a pulsing, needy little bundle of nerves between your legs now demanding attention.

Especially when he comments, right as his fingers glide just above your ass-

“You’re really tight here.” Sir (GN). Be serious. “You should start being a bit more mindful about your posture.”

And with just those few words, your clit - tired, neglected, and frankly done with being emotionally sidelined - decides it’s going to take what it can get.

If a proper orgasm isn’t on the table, a slightly patronizing lecture from Aaron Hotchner about spinal health will have to do.

It politely raises a hand. Submits a request to speak. The brain, overwhelmed and half-fried from continuous exposure to his voice, approves it immediately.

So you ask, way too casually for what it actually means:

“Could you go lower?”

“Lower?” he repeats, taunting, as his hands pause their tantric little routine before gliding under your waist and flipping you over onto his orthopedic mattress.

Now you’re face-to-face with him.

Arms crossed. Brows furrowed. That specific, sharpened brand of exasperation he reserves only for you - his favorite little headache (how romantic of him) - comes today with a bonus layer of disbelief.

Because Best-Profiler-Or-Whatever-Goddamn-Award-He-Just-Won-Again 2012 (the year's not over, but if the Bureau doesn’t give him another brass plaque to add to the terrifying shrine of ego and martyrdom he keeps in his office, he might actually cry) has officially clocked that the look in your – probably very dilated - eyes says one thing and one thing only:

Fuck me. (So Shakespearian.)

Still, since profiling is such a complex job –

(Or so he claims, usually while humblebragging about how he reads murderers for a living, yet somehow still can’t figure out the real reason you keep staring at his hands-)

so many factors, so many nuances, every twitch, every blink, every micro expression a breadcrumb-

So, you, being the considerate, emotionally generous person that you are, decide to spare him the effort. You remove all ambiguity, wrap your legs around his waist, and pull him in.

(Also: your boobs are out. The top of your pajama set’s currently sitting neatly folded on the far bedside table, placed there with care by none other than the Sexy Masseuse Extraordinaire himself.)

(You can’t turn to look at it. If you twist your neck, he’ll scold you. But you know it’s there.)

(So yes. #FreeTheNipple could easily be Exhibit B. Another little clue in the ever-growing case file of She Wants Me. Please, Aaron. Be thorough. File it under Intent.)

And apparently, he does.

Because without you saying a single word, he exhales - through his cutest, slightly uneven nostrils (and probably a deviated septum he refuses to get checked out) - and mutters, incredulous:

“Again?!”

Ah. Yes. Again.

Because to be fair, it is technically true that the second Aaron walked through the door - still suited up, still rumpled from the flight, fresh off a three-day case on the West Coast - the only greeting he got was a breathless “I missed you,” right before you yanked him down by the tie and onto his own couch to physically demonstrate that you (unlike him, [sometimes]) actually mean what you say.

So moved were you by his presence that you completely forgot to do the one basic thing required of anyone with even a shred of shame or social awareness:

Close. The. Curtains.

(You keep forgetting there’s an entire wing of Aaron’s apartment complex that has a front-row seat to his living room. Practically panoramic… oh- hi, Linda from 154.)

But it’s fine. It’s fine.

You fixed it.

You skipped the full nudity part and went for the most logistically respectful option: unzipping just his fly, just enough to free what you needed. Nothing more.

Just the essentials.

Just a fully dressed woman bouncing on a fully dressed man’s lap.

You’re pretty sure that doesn’t count as public indecency. (It’s basically PG-12. Glee’s airing worse on national television every Tuesday at 8/7c and that show’s somehow still going. So really, you’re fine. This is fine. Society has seen worse.)

…You also really, really hope no one saw it in the first place. You tell yourself no one saw it.

You keep telling yourself that, even as your brain starts tallying how many windows overlook this very couch. (Six. There are six. Possibly seven. And that woman on the third floor with the poodle - she definitely saw something. She always does.)

Those people didn’t see that your panties were still on - just pushed to the side, soaked through, clinging to your thigh.

Didn’t see the way your mouth fell open when you sank down onto his cock, gasping from the stretch, from the fuck yes finally of being full again.

Didn’t see his head fall back against the couch, eyes shut, the half-muttered “Jesus Christ” he left when your hips started rolling.

They didn’t see the way your thighs trembled when he grabbed your hips, then your waist, then your thighs again like he couldn’t decide where to hold you hardest, just knew he needed to keep you going.

Didn’t hear the noise he made when you grabbed a fistful of his tie for leverage, just to stay upright while he hit so fucking deep.

And they definitely didn’t hear the way your moan cracked when his mouth brushed your ear and he muttered: “Been thinking about this the whole damn flight.”

Three hours. He sat in a government plane, in slacks, probably surrounded by spreadsheets and murder, and still somewhere over Colorado, he was hard and thinking about you.

“I missed you,” you really mean it. (Yes, you want to fuck him. Obviously. But it’s also starting to feel like the reason you’re so desperate for his body is because being without him hurts a little more than it should.)

“That’s what you said in the shower,” he reminds you. (Oh. Right. The shower. The one that happened immediately after the couch.) “And on the bathroom sink.” Ah. Yes. You’d offered to blowdry his hair, but something else got blown first. (Priorities.) “Don’t you think that’s enough for tonight?”

He basically looks at you like you’re the most beloved disaster he’s ever encountered.

Fond - yes.

Amused - definetely.

Also very much trying not to laugh. He even bites his lip to hold it back.

Veeeery humbling experience.

And still, he leans in over you and locks his lips with yours - sweet enough to excuse how annoyingly chaste it feels. You start to pull him back in but he detours to your cheek instead, lingering there.

“You’re adorable,” he pities you. “Now please could you turn back over?”

Choking yourself with the pillow suddenly sounds like a fantastic plan. You eye it. You consider the logistics. You’re halfway to asphyxiating yourself into emotional amnesia when he leans in and kisses your shoulder.

Then the other. (Symmetry. He’s disgusting.)

You brace for his hands on your back, but it’s his mouth instead.

Starting at the nape of your neck, he works his way down your spine, lips dragging wet and slow. Every kiss sinks into your skin like he’s trying to rewrite your nervous system from the top down, rearranging your fucked-up muscles better than his actual massage ever could.

And he doesn’t stop.

Not even when his fingers hook into the waistband of your pajama pants and start easing them down - his mouth just keeps going, picking up exactly where the fabric leaves off.

You still get butterflies at the stupidly familiar feel of his calloused palms skimming down your thighs, knuckles brushing bare skin as he peels your bottoms away.

Could be excitement. Could be the fact that he’s been edging you for what feels like a fiscal quarter. Could be because you’re head over heels for him and refusing to deal with it. (Unclear. Not investigating.)

Anyways, Aaron - sweet, disciplined Aaron - folds your PJ pants, sets them neatly on top of your already-abandoned top on the bedside table (it was only a matter of time, that poor top’s been waiting for backup all night), and then immediately dives back in mouth-first (correction: teeth-first) sinking a bite right into the peak of your ass.

One side, then the other. (The man really loves symmetry.)

Groaning into your skin as you gasp his name - only for him to shut it down halfway through (fuck him, really) - he slides one arm beneath your hips, the other draping heavy across your thighs, and manhandles you into place in one smooth (hot) motion on all fours.

Ass up, panties still on (and very much soaked through).

It’s… a moment.

You crane your neck, scrambling for words - something clever, something linguistically adult - but what fries every functioning synapse isn’t just the way he’s staring at the soaked spot on your underwear;

It’s the way his pupils visibly dilate when he catches the barest glint of your cunt beneath it.

And still, he manages to outdo himself.

Because Aaron Hotchner’s greatest talent - aside from his intellect, that weirdly specific dry humor only you laugh at, and, of course, the mouthwatering, life-altering, holy-shit-that-thing-has-weight dick he’s somehow just casually lugging around - it’s his uncanny ability to always state the obvious.

“You’re soaked…” he murmurs. “You already fucked me and you’re still soaked.”

(There’s just something in Aaron saying that you fucked him…Call it power-hungry. Call it praise kink. Call it whatever.)

“Shit, say it again.” You just want his voice. More of it. Inside you, around you, anywhere.

You gasp as he hums straight into the damp fabric of your panties “Smug little thing… Let’s see how long it lasts.”

Then he drags his face down, nuzzling his nose along your glistening slit – catching every slick ridge through the soaked cotton, barely giving you any pressure, just enough to make you momentarily twitch.

He doesn’t bother teasing – just goes straight for your clit, flushed and throbbing, and latches on.

Mouth open. Tongue flat.

You start cursing everything.

Cursing the fabric of your panties he still hasn’t moved aside.

Cursing the way the soaked cotton catches every flick of his tongue – turning each pass into friction and making everything worse.

Cursing yourself for the sound you make when he moans into you – mouth hot and hungry – and yanks your hips closer like he can’t fucking help himself.

Grips your ass, fills both palms, pulls you tighter to his face until there’s nowhere for you to go – nowhere for you to run – nothing you can do but take it.

He’s drinking you. He sucks your slick through the fabric, letting it saturate his tongue, then releases your nub with a wet, obscene pop just to do it again.

Then again. And again.

Clicks his tongue just to hear the sound it makes against your cunt.

Right when you think you might actually die from how deliberately he’s taking his sweet time, he finally peels the fabric to the side.

(Thank God.)

“Fuck, Aaron-” you choke, fisting the sheets as he dives into your into your hole.

You were so fucking wrong.

His real talent isn’t stating the obvious.

It’s the way he makes out with your cunt, making you clench against him, and that molten heat already begins to gather low in your stomach.

“You taste better every fucking time. God, I missed you,” he mutters, one hand pressing into the small of your back to hold you down, the other spreading your ass so his tongue has more room to work and can slide deeper.

He fucks you with it.

Pushes in, pulls back, then he drags himself back up to your clit and just… goes feral. A combination you’re 100% sure he makes up on the spot, yet it’s somehow the exact cheat code to your nervous system.

You start grinding against his face, chasing friction like it’s oxygen, needy for whatever the hell that is until your thighs are trembling and your brain has officially vacated the premises.

The only word(s) you manage to hold onto is-

“Aaron- Aaron, please-”

Not your best work. Not ideal.

You should specify - to Mr. Old Man™ - that after please, there was going to be don’t stop.

But instead, it comes out half-strangled, choked off by the groan you let loose as he pulls away too fast, too soon, leaving you gasping face-first into a very wet, very real patch of drool on the mattress.

(It’s cooling against your chin now. Disgusting.)

You writhe, still aching, still pulsing, your body practically begging for his mouth, his nose, his fucking tongue - anything to fill the hot, miserable emptiness between your legs - until his hand wraps around the back of your neck (shit. fuck. shit), lifting you way too easily.

(Maybe because he’s strong. Maybe because you’re fully limp with desperation. Maybe because you don’t resist even a little bit. Hard to say.)

He pulls your spine upright, presses you back against his chest and crashes his mouth to yours.

And as he groans into your mouth, his whole face glistening with your arousal, smearing messily against your cheek, his cock presses between your folds, dragging through the soaked disaster he made of you.

The thick, swollen head - already leaking with precum - bumps against your clit as he grinds forward, dragging through your slick with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch, a choked moan catching halfway in your throat…

…Right as his fingers start to curl around it.

Soft. Careful. Too careful. Like his hand landed there on instinct and now he’s realizing it, hesitating, trying not to make it a thing (which, joke’s on him, it already is).

(Also, if he could go ahead and press those thick, possessive, chubby-ass fingers a little deeper into your neck- yeah. That’d be ideal. Five stars.)

So, probably in a noble act of distraction (or self-preservation), Aaron starts to push in.

That first stretch.

That toe-curling burn you never fully prepare for. The one that drags your body open inch by inch like he’s carving a space only he gets to fill. And you adore it. You crave it like a sickness.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, mouth grazing your jaw. “I couldn’t resist.” And another kiss, “I need to fuck you properly so you don’t wake me up begging for it again.”

(If he keeps holding your neck like that while saying shit like that, you’re definitely waking him up again. With your mouth. Or your thighs.)

You decide to clench around him in reply (how generous of you - really, public service) - tight enough that you know he’s furrowing his brows right now, trying so hard not to let out one of those high-pitched, desperate little whimpers that would completely shatter the illusion of his usual Important Serious Man™ composure.

“Mmm, sweetheart,” he groans, dragging in deeper until he’s finally fully seated inside of you, buried to the hilt. “You’re not even trying to hide it, are you? Squeezing me like that…”

He should really be speaking for himself, considering the thing twitching inside you just because it’s lucky enough to be nestled inside you is his cock, not yours.

And sure, he starts rocking into you all slow and deliberate, hips rolling against the swell of your ass like he thinks he can distract you with rhythm alone, but it’s textbook deflection.

(Hotchner: 1 – You: 0. For now.)

“Aaron-” you gasp, barely coherent, because fuck, you’re full. Like - can’t think, can’t breathe, forgot-Aaron’s-home-wifi-password kind of full.

(Which is annoying, because you were just about to remember it. It was something long and unnecessarily specific, like JHotchnerILoveAmerica65 or JackRules2012.)

(AHotchnerNet_3G_guest_home_office?)

(QuanticoSecure_LinkV2?) Nope. That’s the Bureau one. (You may or may not have shamelessly stolen their bandwidth to watch YouTube videos in his office the first time you visited - sitting on that black leather guest chair, legs swinging, waiting for him to come out of some high-stakes consult.)

(Ugh, come on, you almost had it. It’s the one with the weird numbers… Jack’s birthday? No, that was the old one, the one you used to mooch off before he got weird about network security after that article in The Atlantic.)

(Was it Hotchner_Home_8347_SECURE_VPNLOCKED? Or was that the printer? What was it?)

(Wait - is he 7.5 inches? 8? 8.5?! Feels like that but you’re way too biased.)

“Oh fuck-” Your nails bite into the solid curve of his bicep, your back arches on instinct - no thought involved, just muscle memory screaming yes, like that, and your body goes soft over his, melting like heat’s finally overtaken every vertebrae you’ve got.

Boneless. Useless. Yours now comes with a floppy warranty.

He notices, so he wraps his other arm tight around your waist, keeping you upright. “Yes, honey? You like that? Is that what you’re trying to say? Or-.” A sharper thrust. “Do you need me to go harder already?”

Not accepting your whimper as an answer, he goes harder anyway.

White-hot static floods your brain, sparking behind your eyes. You lose track of sound, of sense, of everything but the slap-slap-slap of skin on skin, that becomes even louder than the creaky-ass wooden antique bedframe Aaron refuses to replace.

(Yes, it was expensive. Yes, he insists it’s historical. Yes, it’s probably haunted. No, you do not care. Louis XIV himself could rise from the dead and tell you it’s a collector’s piece, you’re still letting Aaron split you in half on it.)

“Do you feel it?” he asks.

You know what he means. Doesn’t even need to say it.

Especially when his hand tightens just that little bit more around your throat - enough to blur the edges, enough to make your cunt flutter in a grateful little thank you because that was literally what you were about to beg for and this man just read your goddamn mind and saved you the humiliation-

“Well- it’s- fuck yes, right th- it’s kind of impossible not to, isn’t it?”

Wrong answer, apparently.

Because it earns you exactly zero gold stars and a one-way ticket to being shoved face-first into the mattress, his palm flat on your back.

(Or maybe he’s just decided he won’t be satisfied until you’re properly, thoroughly, professionally fucked dumb, until the only thing your brain can process, let alone say, is his name.)

“Lift your hips,” he instructs.

“What-”

“Just do it.”

You do. Of course you do. Because you are weak and unprincipled and you like it when he uses his dad voice.

(Sorry, framed Jack. Not your dad dad. Like- authority figure dad. Weird to explain. Just- sorry Jack.)

He reaches for the pillow from his side of the bed (naughty… part of you hopes he doesn’t bother changing the case afterward, just so he can fall asleep every night wrapped in the scent of your sex… but then again, you’re talking about Aaron, so he'll probably sanitize it twice and iron it back into place) and slides it beneath your stomach.

“There. Better angle for your back,” he mutters.

“Are you fucking kidding me… oh fuck- my back?” You try to mock him, but all you can think is that this stupid orthopedic pillow just shoved him even deeper.

He’s drilling into you so hard, so fucking perfectly, that all you can focus on is how thick he is - how every goddamn ridge, every pulsing vein, every inch of him is dragging against your walls and hitting your spot every single time.

Somehow, you’re still not used to how deep he gets. Still not over the fact that he fits like this, that he fucks like this. That he’s that deep. That much.

You start thinking you should give him a little plaque.

A nice, shiny, brassy “Deepest Stroke Award: Best Dick 2012” kind of thing. Stick it right next to his Bureau commendations so everyone that steps into his office knows he’s that good.

So good that as he angles himself even better (you didn’t even know that was possible), you don’t even hear the bedframe anymore.

(Which is convenient, because next time he wakes you up at 3 a.m. - all apologetic and sleepy and sweet, muttering “sorry, sweetheart, I just need to turn over, please go back to sleep” while trying not to make it creak - you’re gonna tell him to just flip you over and fuck you like this until you both go deaf. Sleep like babies. Problem solved.)

You’re gasping, whimpering, face buried in the mattress, fingers curled so tight in the sheets they might tear, and Aaron has the audacity -the actual fucking balls (which, by the way, are slapping against your clit with every thrust and fuck, they feel incredible… justice for balls, truly) - to tut at you.

“Sweetheart, you’re collapsing your shoulders again, try to pull them back. Keep the neck long.”

You try to lift yourself. You really do. But your arms are jelly, your spine’s gone to hell, and your entire body is preoccupied with coming apart on his cock.

Still, his big, warm hand spreads flat over the center of your back as he straightens you out. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t make me correct your posture and fuck you… engage here.”

(Which is ironic. Because right now? He’s doing both flawlessly.)

“Trying,” you pant.

“Oh, I can see you’re trying,” he mutters, and somehow it’s affectionate and condescending and it should make you furious but instead your cunt clenches yet again like it wants to say thank you, sir.

He shifts his hips and pushes in deeper, angling just right and you see white.

Just white. No thoughts. No gods. No laws. Just the smug chuckle he lets out as your mouth drops open and a sound escapes that isn’t even a word anymore.

“Poor thing,” he coos as his pretentious mouth brushes your spine. “Clenching around me like that and still trying to impress me with your form. You can’t even hold yourself up, sweetheart. That’s adorable.”

“Why do you have to be such an asshole? Can’t you just say one of those stupid cheesy things you tell me all the other times?”

He kisses your shoulder. “Because for some reason,” he murmurs, lazy and devastating, “we both know why this turns you on more.”

It’s because you watch too much porn when he’s away. That’s what it is. That’s the problem. You look for the perfect video, scrolling through every possible variation of "older man, authoritative voice, hairy chest, forehead lines, kind of sad but knows how to eat pussy."

Trying to find a man with his exact nose. His exact voice. His exact cock.

But you never find it. You never find him.

And you’re too chickenshit to ask him to just send you a video of himself fucking his fist - because he’s probably doing something more important, like saving Gotham or shooting an active shooter - and you don’t want to be the reason he gets sidetracked while stroking his lenght in a government office. (…Though, the idea is… not bad.)

So instead, you settle. Again.

You open one of those copy-paste porn videos made for men who think women are doormats with vocal fry, and let it play. Same limp dialogue. Same dead-eyed expressions. Same choreographed humiliation kink that somehow makes you feel like the one being punished.

And still, it doesn’t work. Because Aaron Hotchner has fucked up your brain chemistry to such a degree that other men just don’t do it anymore. You slap the laptop shut to end up staring at that blurry pic you took of him coaching Jack’s football game. (Sorry, Jack.)

He’s just in a bland T-shirt. Biceps hulking under cotton. Arms crossed. Whistle hanging from his neck like he’s about to say something inspirational and slightly disappointed.

That’s the reason.

(...Or maybe it’s just that nothing on this godforsaken Earth turns you on more than when he tells you what to do - precisely how to take it, exactly how to behave - even though you’ve spent an embarrassing amount of mental energy convincing yourself that enjoying that somehow makes you less of a feminist, like Simone de Beauvoir’s going to rise from the grave and revoke your womanhood because you like being manhandled by a man in overpriced pajamas.)

(Yeah… it’s definitely because you watch way too much porn.)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand sliding back up to your throat, palm pressing lightly, thumb stroking under your jaw as you try to mumble something broken and vowel-heavy that you’re pretty sure started as his name. “Oh…” Aaron chuckles, putting two and two together. “So this is what you want?”

“Hnngh…” you try, but he slaps your ass. (You swear to God, the next time he walks in front of you on a staircase, you’re smacking him. Right there. Mid-step. He will be humbled. You will have your revenge.) “Yes. Yes. Just- just stay there.”

“Here where?”

“Shut up.”

Another slap.

Another involuntary moan. (Still. Stairs, Hotchner.)

“No, but seriously - your back. You sit like shit. You fuck like a dream, but Jesus, I’m gonna send you to physical therapy myself if you keep collapsing your shoulders like that.”

You whimper into the pillow. Your clit’s caught between the pillow and your cunt clenches hard, slick dripping down your thighs, and you don’t know if you’re closer because of the way he’s choking you or the fact that he just corrected your posture.

“Could you – fuck – could you just talk more?” (There it is. Your final shred of dignity. Cashed. Spent. Gone.)

He hums behind you. “Oh, now you want feedback?” Then he leans down, and suddenly you’re wearing him – coarse salt-and-pepper chest hair scraping your slick back, the full weight of him pushing you down as his cock punches so deep into you, you have to roll your eyes back.

“You want me to tell you how fucking good you feel?” he grits, hips picking up pace, snapping harder now.

You’re not really in the conditions to answer.

Your mouth is open but your brain has blue-screened, locked in a loop of oh my God oh my God oh my fuc-

“God, look at you,” he groans, almost in disbelief, hand splaying across your upper back to keep you down, to stop your writhing. “Making a mess all over my cock. You’re dripping. Absolutely soaking me.”

And oh… you feel it.

The soaked patch you’ve been leaving on the pyjama pants he didn’t even bother taking off - just shoved down far enough to fuck you properly - slapping wetly against your skin every time he drives in.

(You’re naked. He’s half-dressed. Fully dressed, actually…)

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he huffs, and oh - his voice cracks. He’s close. Good. (That’s so hot.) “Taking me so well. Still gripping me like it’s the first time. Letting me fuck you this- this deep- Jesus Christ-“ (Amen.) “I can feel every goddamn pulse-”

His hand slides from your spine to your throat - tightens just enough to send your body into full siren-mode panic, only to twist it into white-hot bliss a second later.

And then the other sneaks between your thighs, fingers already soaked in you, finding your clit like he’s done it a thousand times (you’re still in the double digits) and starts circling. . Fast. Messy. Precise.

The kind of perfect that short-circuits thought. That makes your jaw go slack. That makes your breath catch on the edge of something that isn’t quite a moan, or a cry, or-

It almost slips out.

That thing.

The three-word, soul-ruining thing people only say when they’re either very brave or very stupid. And right now, with his fingers rubbing you and his cock still buried so deep it feels like belonging, you’re dangerously close to being both.

“F-fuck, Aaron-”

“I’ve got you. Let go, sweetheart.”

And you do.

You break. Your thighs tremble, your back arches involuntarily (and Aaron’s too far gone to lecture you about spinal integrity now), and your moan turns guttural and ugly as your orgasm crashes through you - pulling his name from your throat

You clamp down so hard around him he curses, jaw clenched, hips jerking once, twice, then he’s there too.

Hot, deep, choking on his breath as he thrusts into the tight clutch of your pulsing cunt, burying himself to the hilt, spilling inside you in rough, thick spurts that have your body jolting again from the aftershocks.

He groans into your shoulder, mouth open, teeth grazing skin, hips still twitching through the aftershocks - every helpless pulse of him inside you dragging another ripple of heat down your spine, through your thighs, and eventually, shamefully, down onto the sheets.

He doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t move, really, except to press his chest tighter against your back, as if he’s trying to stay in your skin. Like if he lets go, something might slip - out of him, out of you, out of whatever the hell this is.

His breathing is still a bit ragged, hot and damp against your shoulder, and you feel his lips brush there, once, then again - barely a kiss, just contact.

Just reassurance. Just him not knowing how else to say I needed that. Instead it’s just words not meant to be heard - just soft, scattered nothings that don’t quite form sentences, all of them pressed into your skin.

"You're okay,"

"Got you,"

"So good, baby..."

Over and over. Sweet. Ruined. Honest.

Your chest hurts.

Because he means it.

He’s not thinking about it, he’s just being. And it’s the most terrifyingly beautiful thing he’s ever done to you. You need to ruin it.

“FUCK, that was incredible. Where did you keep all of that?!”

He pauses. You can feel him trying not to laugh.

You roll onto your side, gasping. “No, like, WOW. Wow wow wow, Aaron. Wow. Who are you? What was that? Have you been holding out? Were you possessed? Should I call someone? Is there a hotline?”

You watch the faint blush creep across his cheek as he pushes up onto his elbows, runs a hand through his post-sex hair (sexier than pre-sex hair, somehow), and exhales the most exasperatedly fond sound you’ve ever heard.

“Please don’t call anyone.”

These moments - when he completely misses a joke that any normal adult would clock instantly - really do make you want to climb him like a tree all over again.

But what really gets you? What sets your neurons on fire and your soul on its knees?

The phenomenon - still unstudied, tragically overlooked by science - in which post-sex Aaron becomes the most meticulous, terrifyingly competent man alive.

He doesn’t hesitate. Just materializes a warm cloth from nowhere (possibly interdimensional?), cleans you up with it, straightens the sheets, fluffs the pillows, and tucks you in.

You don’t even know when he grabbed his glasses, but suddenly they’re on his face and you’re on his chest, half-sitting, draped over him.

You might feel shame for being so clingy if he ever said anything about it. But he never does. Not even a snide little quip. Just those small, fond huffs that suggest he’s mostly annoyed at himself for enjoying this so much.

Or, like now, he reaches calmly into his go-bag and pulls out what is undeniably the driest, dustiest, most textbook-looking book you've ever seen in your life.

“Sorry,” he says, settling back against the headboard. “I’ve just got a few chapters left… do you want to pretend to be reading with me?”

Wise choice of words, Agent Hotchner.

Because what you really want is to drown yourself in his pheromones and rub your cheek on his chest hair until your responsibilities disintegrate.

“Wearing those,” you sigh dreamily, eyeing the glasses, the page, the stupid peaceful look on his face, “you can do anything you’d like.”

He shakes his head - fond. Touched.

Probably regretting all his life choices, but not enough to stop.

He flips open the tome, rests it against one bent knee, and starts reading. His finger glides up to his lips every time he turns a page, like he’s savoring each one. Every now and then, he adjusts his glasses.

You watch in awe.

Reverence.

…Horniness.

So you just keep kissing him. Aimless, endless little things - his jaw, his neck, his shoulder, the back of his ear - any patch of skin within a lazy head-turn radius gets worshipped.

“Wow. Wow wow. Aaron. Wow. Wowowowowow.”

He doesn’t even flinch.

Just keeps reading, completely unbothered.

Occasionally hums.

If you’re lucky, he presses a kiss into your hair or the side of your temple - never rushed, always lingering, like he’s sealing something in.

Or if he just does that because he’s an old fuck and that’s how they taught knights to kiss their trembling maidens back in the 1500s.

He looks so… peaceful. Way too peaceful.

Which is immediately suspicious.

You open your mouth, just about to ask, “Can we do it again?” when, without even glancing up from the page, he slides the hand resting on your waist down.

Dips straight into your PJ pants, then your underwear.

Your mouth falls open. Nothing comes out.

Not even the question. He’s already answered it.

He exhales through his nose - completely unbothered - as his index finger starts stroking your clit in the slowest lazy little patterns.

Like fingering you under a blanket mid-biography is just his evening chore before tea and chapter seven. Like he’s got all night. (He probably does.)

(You can’t even moan yet. You’re too busy trying to process the fact that he’s still reading.)

And then, instead of simply licking a finger to turn the page like a normal person, he brings two of those thick fingers to his mouth.

He sucks on them, eyes still fixed on the text, lips closed around his fingers as he coats them in spit. And without ever lifting his gaze, he sinks them deep into you - curling just enough to make your thighs tense around him.

“You think I don’t know the real reason you’re always staring at my hands?”

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @goorgeousz ; @hayleym1234 ; @ignoreeeeeee ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @littlemisskavities ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mmmunson ; @mxblobby ; @nikt-wazny-y ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softtdaisy ; @softestqueeen ; @thatkidofwarandpeace ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24 ; @who-needs-to-sleep

[musetheapothecary]

─── 翔陽 EVERYTHING IS ROMANTIC

hinata shouyou; 1,395 words; smut, d/s dynamics, brat tamer!shou, bratty!reader, fem!reader, light spanking, orgasm control/denial, use of "good girl", sunshine!shou, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, no "y/n", lapslock

summary: getting cheek on a beach day

a/n: in honor of shouyou day here is some sweet brat tamer!shou u__u

< part of the brat collection; go to masterlist

─── 翔陽 "YOU WERE THE ONE who wanted this, remember?”

you whimper, biting hard on your lips to keep from making too much noise. behind you, hinata coos as he soothes a warm palm along the bend of your back, the fingers of his other hand working into your sopping cunt as you fight to stay still.

“i ��� i didn’t want —”

“no? hm…” he makes a light, contemplative noise, his pace slowing ever so slightly, but enough to make you clench, your hips pushing back to seek his touch once more. he tuts, giving your ass cheek a small smack that echoes lewdly around the empty bathroom. “thought you did… with the way you were acting on the beach earlier…”

you glance up into the water-stained mirror, your vision hazy. behind you, hinata’s brows are ever so slightly furrowed, his hair a wind-tousled mess, but there’s a sharpness to his eyes as he looks up to find you watching him, cocking his head a little, the frown smoothing out, replaced by a bright smile — almost as if he weren’t finger-fucking you in the handicap stall of a public restroom. and sure, the place had been a bit out of the way, but you’re all too aware that he’d left the main door unlocked, leaving the possibility of being found out slithering through you, coiling in your gut till you’d been dripping down your thighs.

“i wasn’t acting… like anything…” you try to sound indignant, but it’s hard, when you can barely stand up straight, and you’re so desperate to feel his fingers deeper inside you that you almost whine when he reaches down to flick at your clit. your knees shake; hinata chuckles, looping his free arm around your middle to steady you, nearly lifting your feet off the ground as he pushes you harder against the sink.

“really? you didn’t mean anything when you asked me to put sunscreen on your back?”

“i — i just forgot —”

“i reminded you in the car.”

“mm — mngh —” your head drops into your arms as his fingers pull out of you suddenly, and there’s the faint shuffle of clothes before you gasp, feeling the tip of his cock nudging at your already abused pussy lips.

“ah… you’re so wet baby…”

“shou…” you whine, wiggling your hips, but your only answer is another soft smack to your other cheek.

“mah… i told you that you’d get a reward if you were good today but…” and though he tries to keep his voice steady, you can hear the ragged edges to his breathing, the harshness like a metallic undertone to the way he speaks and you know without having to look that he’s got that dark, almost light-less look in his eyes — the kind of look he gets when he’s so focused, the rest of the world simply falls away.

“you really wanted to get punished, huh?” he asks. and the jarring dissonance between his bright voice and the words he’s saying sends a frisson of shivers down your spine to pool in your gut, twisting torque-tight as he slowly eases his cockhead into you.

you let out a tiny, abortive whimper as he teases you slow, pulling out before ever really thrusting in, till the head of his cock is so covered in your juices it squelches with every movement he makes.

“mm… wanted to play some beach volleyball today…” he muses, almost to himself, his fingers digging into the plush of your hips as he tugs you back onto his cock — a quarter, halfway, almost there but —

“shou, please —” you hiccup, voice cutting off as he tugs out again, leaving you clenching and empty.

“aw…” he leans forward to press a kiss to your shoulder, nosing into the bend of your neck with a soft sigh, “you always sound so pretty when you beg…”

your eyes squeeze, your whole body thrums like a too-tight violin string, primed to snap —

“nnnghph!” you let out a startled noise as hinata fucks forward in a single, fluid motion, slipping in so easily you’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for the pleasure that courses through you at finally being stretched, finally being filled.

“th-there’s a good girl…” he says, the hitch in his breath tempered by the base gravel in his voice as he starts to slowly fuck you proper. fingers slip into your hair, tugging your head up slightly to meet his eyes in the dirty mirror. it takes a second for your gaze to focus, pleasure sparking along the edges of your vision in tiny white dots.

hinata shoots you a lopsided grin before leaning forward again to hook his chin over your shoulder. like this, you can feel every inch of him, his stomach tensing into a formidable six pack of abs against your spine as he thrusts into you, deep, working deeper every time.

your knees really do give this time, but he catches you before you can slip out of his grasp and he holds you to him, working you over his cock like a life-sized toy, his lips parted as he murmurs into your ear —

“g’nna be good for me, yeah? isn’t that nice? feels good, right? yeah… i f-feel good too — fuck — mm… you’re squeezing so tight — ah — are you gonna come already? but i haven’t even gotten started yet —”

he gives your head a tiny shake, the sting of your hair on your scalp making you moan. and in the 3-stall bathroom, if anyone were to walk in, there’d be no mistaking what you’re doing, nothing to cover up the lewd sounds of skin on skin and panting breaths, and the way you can’t help but whimper every time his cock kisses up against your cervix.

“i — i’ll be good — please —” you hiss as he presses a flat palm over your tummy, pushing in as he thrusts, making your head go hazy with pleasure as he grinds against your g-spot over and over again.

“yeah? y’promise?” he asks, giving your shoulder another kiss.

you nod, desperate, half-mad with want as heat starts to gather at the base of all your limbs.

“g’nna be good for the rest of the day too?” he asks.

you nod again, harder this time, keening at the feeling of his balls smacking against your ass. your thighs feel sticky, and you can’t really even feel your toes anymore, but you don’t care. you’re so close, so close you can already feel the pleasure tingling at your fingertips.

“good — then let’s get back out there and catch some waves!”

you make a choked sound as hinata pulls out and gives your ass a quick smack, grinning as you stare wide-eyed at him from the mirror. your cheeks are dark, your hair a mussed up mess, your bikini bottoms dragged down around your thighs.

hinata slates you a curious look, a devious smile playing at his lips, even as he pulls up his swim trunks and reaches down to help you tug your bikini bottoms back up. his fingers are gentle and sure as they always are.

“w-what?” you ask, twisting around, hoping, praying that this is just a sick joke. you can still feel the orgasm swirling inside you, but the familiar heat is receding by the second, and all hinata does is tug you in for a chaste kiss.

“i told you, if you’re good for the rest of the day, you’ll get what you want. now c’mon — i wanna catch the surf-lesson and then grab a game of pick up beach volleyball after!”

he reaches down to lace your fingers, pulling you with him as he pushes out of the bathroom stall and out all the way back onto the blinding light of the mid-day sun. you’re still a bit wobbly, but he loops an easy arm around you and tucks you into his side.

“and who knows,” he whispers, glancing down at you shell-shocked face, “you might even get a present in the car later if you’re really, really good for me, hm?”

taglist: @yaoduriaa @ominouslywritinginmyhead @naomihatake @cheesypuffkins87 @crispynutella @unriding @fennecnco @jkj33w10 @ryzheling @ally-all-around @arahiraaai @katiekawls and my shouyou truthers: @shoyosh @neiptune @dearru @mikiruie @mosskissed @megapteraurelia

[musetheapothecary]

always my person

cw: 1.7k wc, female reader, suggestive, you surprise your man with a tattoo of his initial and his body reacts before the mind can process, this was supposed to be brief and silly but I got emotional as always he's too charming for his own good

You smile upon hearing the front door shutting, warmth blossoming in your chest at the sound of his voice, cheerfully announcing that he’s back.

Shoyo lets the gym bag hit the floor as he walks into the kitchen, where you’re waiting with a big, dopey smile. He pulls you into his familiar embrace right away, the tiniest bit clingy as he always is the first days when you visit him.

“Missed you”, he mumbles into your neck, “come with me tomorrow”.

You giggle, indulging his rocking movement by swaying gently on your feet.

“But I hate the gym?”.

“Don’t care. You can just be there while I work out, mark your territory or something”.

You pull back enough to meet his playful gaze with a scowl.

“Do I need to mark my territory, Shoyo?”.

“Maybe? I look pretty good while bench pressing-”, he laughs when you lightly pinch his side but instead of letting you go, he tightens his hold around you.

“I’ll bite you”.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time”.

Another laugh shakes him when you muffle a groan into his chest. How is it that he always has it his way? Oh, but you’re pretty sure the retaliation you’re about to get is going to be sweet. He most probably won’t be able to suave his way out of it.

“I actually have a surprise for you”, you hide your smile in the fabric of his tank top.

“Oh?”, Shoyo soothingly rubs your back and it takes everything in you to pull away from his embrace. He spots your telltale grin and hums, making a show of bracing himself for trouble.

“What did you do?”.

You narrow your eyes.

“What’s with the lack of trust?”.

“Last time you said that, there was a stray cat in my bedroom”.

“How was I supposed to know you’re allergic to them now?”, you pout and he laughs, takes your face in his big hands and gently pecks your lips. 

“You’re right. Tell me, then. What’s the surprise?”.

“Close your eyes”.

Shoyo complies right away and, with a smile, you turn around. There is a slight tension in your shoulders, the irrational fear that he might actually not be happy about it. Or worse, get mad. Shoyo rarely ever gets mad and you doubt this particular action could stir up an argument but you still have to take a deep breath before allowing him to open his eyes.

You hear it loud and clear, the way his breath catches in his throat.

“Is this…?”, Shoyo’s voice comes out hoarse, uncertain, “can I touch?”.

“Yeah”, you let out a nervous giggle.

The pads of his fingers delicately trace the small letter forever imprinted on the skin of your nape. His initial.

“Guess one could say this way you marked your territory first, huh?”, you hope your laugh eases the weird tension you can feel simmering the longer his silence stretches for.

“God, this is… oh, no. Fuck”, something in your chest cracks at the sound of his groan.

“I’m sorry, I thought you’d… I thought you’d like it. It was a dumb idea, I’ll have it removed”, you spin once more, eyes big with worry. Embarrassment flares hot in your gut as you avoid his gaze, torment your fingers.

“What?”, in disbelief, Shoyo stares at you, “removed? Over my dead body”.

Hesitant, you finally look up.

“But… you don’t hate it?”.

He lets out an incredulous laugh.

“Hate it? I don’t think you understand what this just did to me. Shit”.

You furrow your brows, confused, then your gaze lands on his sweatpants. Your jaw slacks.

“Are you hard right now?”.

“How do you expect me not to be?”, he gently pulls you in with a smile, fingers hooked in your belt loops, “can’t believe you did that. Are you tryin’ to kill me?”.

“So you like it?”, you grin when all he can do is hum against your skin, where he’s pressing his lips over and over again while sponging kisses across your jaw, neck, throat.

“How about I show you exactly how much I like it?”, his sweatpants feel so tight it almost hurts and when you lightly tug at his hair, your hands buried in tufts of copper curls, the sound he lets out sinks into your abdomen, where it sets something ablaze.

And then, right as he kisses you so hard against the kitchen counter you think your lips may bruise, your phone rings.

“Shoyo, I have to pick up”, you whisper, disheartened. He rests his forehead against your shoulder for a moment, trying to catch his breath, then lets you go with a dazed smile and eyes with a dangerous glint in them, one that promises this interruption will merely delay what’s to come.

“I’ll take a shower. Tell Emi I said hi and to be quick”, he kisses you one last time, winks from over his shoulder as he picks up his bag from the floor and heads upstairs. You roll your eyes with fondness. When your friend asks what took you so long your mind is still occupied, the continuity of your thoughts shattered by the memory of your boyfriend’s swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

By the time Shoyo is back, clean sweatpants, hoodie and damp hair, you’re on his couch with the tv on. Your friend was in urgent need of advice and emotional support over a bad date, you only just managed to finally talk her out of going on a second date with the same guy and promised you’d meet her for breakfast as soon as you’re back home.

“Everything okay?”, he plops down next to you and with a sigh you soon adjust yourself in between his legs, nestled comfortably in his arms and against his chest.

“She’ll be fine, I’ll call again tomorrow. How are you feeling after your second shower of the day?”.

“Relieved”, he chuckles with you, then kisses the crown of your head, “you’re not pranking me, right? It’s a real one. I’ll be sad if I just jerked off to a temporary tattoo-”

“It’s real, you idiot! Maybe I should add a ��K’ next to it and dedicate it to Sakusa instead?”.

Shoyo gently grabs your jaw with one hand, fingers sinking into the skin of your cheeks until your lips are comically puckered.

“Not funny”, he warns.

“Then stop being stupid”.

“It’s just… you’re scared of needles”.

“Why are you being so polemic about this? Are you sure you like it?”.

Shoyo sinks into the pillows a little more and you with him. The steady rise and fall of his chest is soothing, you can feel the familiar beat of his heart under your ear.

“I just can’t believe you’d do this for me. I guess it’s crazy to think I’m even worth something like that in the first place, you know?”.

You carefully let the absurd words sink, to make sure you truly understand what he’s trying to say. When you prop yourself up on one arm to look at him, Shoyo has a serious look on his face.

“Do I not show you how much…”, you start, but he shakes his head and interrupts your troubled question.

“It’s not you. I just never thought I’d be it for someone. I mean, it’s forever, no? What happens if we break up?”.

Your gaze softens. Despite how confident he is, the way Shoyo trusts you with his most vulnerable thoughts never fails to touch you. Not that he’s ever had any particular issue with voicing what he thinks or feels but this feels special. Someone else might be offended by the question, read into it too much, but you know better. He’s always so busy being your rock solid, safe harbor that he rarely ever allows himself to falter, to share such insecurities.

“You’re my person, Shoyo. You will always be my person, even if we break up”, you don’t offer sappy reassurance, as much as you’re certain you’re bound to never part ways this is the ony thing you’re able to promise. Because life is messy and anything could happen, especially with a long distance relationship. But Shoyo Hinata will always be it for you, no matter where in the world he is, no matter if he’s your boyfriend or not. He has much more than your heart.

“I made this whole thing sad, didn’t I? It was supposed to be different. I’m sorry”, he murmurs, pulling you into him once more. You press your lips to the portion of skin of his neck you can reach.

“No, you didn’t. You just gave me the chance to tell you something important. Besides, I didn’t really do this for you”, with a smile, you nestle further into his chest.

“Mm?”.

“I did it for me. As a reminder that it doesn’t matter where you are, where I am. I can always feel you close”.

Silence follows your admission and you know he’s mulling over it, one hand idly massaging your arm. After a few seconds, the same hand gently grabs your chin to tilt your head up.

“I love you”, he whispers, before softly pressing his lips to yours. You smile into the kiss.

“It also turns me on to have your initial tattooed on me”, you melt into a chuckle when he groans, exasperated.

“You’re such a little minx”, something flashes in his eyes, now bright with mirth once more. The grin you offer only makes him smile more.

“Would you get one with my initial too?”, it’s just light teasing but Shoyo takes one of your hands and brings it to his lips, to gently kiss your wrist.

“I’d get your full name. Pick a spot”.

His genuineness flusters you for a moment and you have to laugh it off.

“Shut up”.

“No, really. I’d have it anywhere”.

“I know”, you sigh, defeated. He hums.

“Wanna see it again, sit up straight please”.

You comply, adjust yourself against his chest once more and lightly crane your neck to offer a better view of your nape. His calloused fingers outline the little ‘S’ once more, right before the featherlite touch of his lips presses onto your skin. You relax into his sweet kisses for a bit but, as he always does, Shoyo surprises you. When all of a sudden the warm tip of his tongue slowly traces over the letter, a shudder teases your spine.

“Stay still for me”, he whispers. You have no intention of disobeying.

[musetheapothecary]

CHAUFFEUR | Y. ENDO + C. TAKIISHI

cw: 18+ mdni, f! reader, fluff to smut very quickly, car sex(?), reader gets fingered lol. uhh that's it i think. wc: 1.5k. a/n: this is p tame compared to my other works on here ✮ツ hope u enjoy anyway.

“Thank fuck,” you breathe, luggage in hand as you finally make it past baggage claim. It’s been a long few weeks on your business trip without Takiishi and Endo. While you enjoyed the peace and quiet at first, it quickly became lonely without them. They’re always there to help you relax after a long shift, or to listen to you complain about your boss, though it tends to turn into them threatening to talk to him for you. 

You wait on a bench outside the airport for Endo to pick you up, jittering with excitement. You’re sure he has plenty of stories to fill you in on– he’ll take any opportunity to talk about Takiishi– as well as pent up energy to take out on you. The thought makes you cross your legs and smile to yourself in anticipation.

The all too familiar low, rumbling purr of Endo’s car alerts you that he’s nearby, and you scurry to your feet. The polished black sheen of it rolls around the corner, definitely over the airport parking lot speed limit, and pulls up right in front of you, the brakes nearly screeching to a halt. You swear the driver’s side door opens before the car even comes to a full stop, and Endo's tall, tattooed frame prances towards you, muscled arms outstretched, with a bellowing, “Babyyyy!”

He’s just as excited as you are, and butterflies swarm in your tummy at the thought. As he closes the distance, you lunge towards him and get swallowed up in his warmth, face pressed against his pecs that bulge under his tank top. His voice is muffled against your hair when he murmurs, “I missed you baby, welcome home!” 

You giggle, “Not exactly home yet, Yamato. Countin’ on you to get me there.”

He presses a kiss onto the top of your head with an obnoxious muah, and mutters, “Got you, baby. Lemme get these bags off your hands.” As he turns to load your bags in the trunk, you startle a bit at the presence behind him you hadn’t previously noticed– Takiishi.

He stares, waiting for you to approach him. Staring back in shock, because a bustling airport isn't exactly his scene, you amble towards him, “O-oh. Chika. You came!” He blinks, and nods, fingers twitching at his sides, perhaps in anticipation. You fumble a bit in your steps toward him, and your eyes flit around his face in search of…well, anything, really.

The sound of the trunk slamming shut barely registers as you and Takiishi stare at each other, as well as Endo’s sing-songy tone, “Of course he came! I told you he missed you!” 

The comment has you beaming and craning your neck up at the man in front of you, hinting that you want a kiss without being too forward for his liking. But Takiishi, full of surprises as he is, pulls you to him by the back of your neck, making you yelp. The second your lips connect, his tongue is sliding against yours and nearly breaching your throat. He drinks you in like he’s trying to consume you, sucking and biting your lips until drool drips down your chin. Even then, he’s dipping down with his tongue to clean you up before he gets you messy all over again. His hands circle your waist and run down your hips, squeezing as gently as is possible for him. Ringed fingers dip under the hem of your shirt so he can smooth over the skin of your belly, making you squeak from the sudden cold. You’re brought back to reality when the airport’s sliding doors open beside you, and a group emerges, murmuring amongst themselves and letting out awkward coughs. 

Your eyes shoot open and you separate with a loud pop, a string of spit still connecting the two of you as you nervously laugh in their direction, averting your eyes while his burn into you, still. A deep giggle reminds you that Endo's waiting, arms crossed and bulging over his chest as he leans against his car. His mouth is stretched into a smitten grin as he gazes at the two of you, completely infatuated, before he chirps, “Ya ready now?”

Endo opens the backseat door for you, like a gentleman, before a harsh grip on his wrist prevents him from closing it. Takiishi slides in beside you, grabbing the inside handle to slam it shut, almost crushing Endo’s fingertips in the process. Endo sighs to himself with a dreamy smile as he walks around to the driver’s side door. Lovebirds, he thinks.

The second Takiishi sits beside you, his hands are on you. Innocent at first— as innocent as he can be. He rubs and squeezes at your thighs as you rest your head on his shoulder and throw quick, tired responses to Endo as he blabbers on enthusiastically, oblivious to the scene behind him. 

“Did you touch yourself while you were away?” Takiishi whispers right into your ear, calloused palm trailing up your thigh. 

You nod your head no, and he tsks. “I don’t believe you.”

His fingertips dip under your skirt as he recalls the times you missed their calls in the past two weeks, claiming to be “too busy” to answer, even though you promised to call back later. He didn’t take kindly to your lack of availability. It was to the point Endo was nearly praying you’d pick up on the first ring, just so he wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around Takiishi until you graced them with a call back. 

He pulls your panties to the side, swiping a finger through your folds and breathing out deep through his nose at the feeling of your slick. Other than the kiss at the airport, he can’t think of any other reason you’d be dripping like this. So now, as he’s gathering your slick on the pads of his fingers to circle your clit, he wonders if maybe you truly went two weeks without touching yourself to the thought of them. Most importantly, him. The thought has him bristling, a searing heat behind his eyes and a tight pull in his chest. He kisses his teeth, unfamiliar with the feeling that’s been brewing in his gut since you left. So what if you were too busy to miss him? Your pussy clearly wasn’t.

In one movement, he’s down to the knuckle of his index. Your eyes flit to Endo in the rear view mirror, his own twinkling as he beams, rattling off plans he’s made now that you’re back. You’re half listening, nodding so Endo feels acknowledged and Chika feels encouraged— not that it would stop either of them from doing what they want.

You’re thankful for the way Endo never shuts up, or there would be nothing to cover the squelch as Takiishi slides a second finger in, curling them upwards and moving at just the pace you like. His rough fingers drag against your walls in a way yours never could, stretching you and reaching spots you long for when he’s not around. He scissors them, prompting you to spread your thighs further apart to give him more access. Pushing deeper into you, he feels around for the spot he knows will have you falling apart in no time. A gentle reminder that you have no business ignoring him again.

Endo's voice is merely an echo to you, but you're alert enough to register and muster out mumbled affirmations. It doesn't sit well with the man who's knuckle deep in you, waiting on you to give him what you owe him. Once he brings the heel of his palm down to grind against your clit, you’re fucked. There’s no way to hide the blissed out expression you wear or the desperate cant of your hips to match his tempo. 

Endo, still babbling on, checks the rear view mirror, nearly pouting at your lack of response, only to see the whites of your eyes and Chika latched onto your neck. Suddenly he’s quiet, and turning the music down too, so he can hear how sloppy you are as Takiishi pumps his fingers inside you. He’s not paying enough attention to the road to notice a pothole that directs Chika’s fingers straight into your sweet spot, forcing a loud, strangled moan out of you.

“Chika,” you whine, rolling your head back onto the headrest and grabbing at his thighs. 

“Hm. So now you wanna talk to me?” He angles his fingers to press up against that spot, over and over again.

“Can….hah! Ah..Chi—fuck!” 

“Use your words.”

“Chika….Chika can I cum? Please?”

He responds by pushing his fingers deeper as Endo takes a hand off the wheel to palm his aching cock. 

An obscene, drawn out moan of Takiishi’s name is followed by a sob, and you’re squirting all over his fingers and Endo’s leather seats. He removes them to lean forward and drag his hand along Endo’s cheek before dipping into his mouth. Endo moans as his eyes roll back into his head, swerving around on the road in the process. “Watch it.” Takiishi corrects. Endo nods rapidly, eyes lidded. Chika leans back and drags his gaze down your body, adjusting your skirt and patting your hair down. “Is that enough proof?” 

You’re still reeling from your orgasm, head fuzzy, “Pr–huh? Proof of what?”

“...That I missed you.”

[musetheapothecary]

TRAINER KÖNIG

sfw + nsfw. sucking könig's humongous titties. big cock. shower sex. semi-public. non-fluent könig.

it was a practical decision, you told yourself, scrolling past flashy advertisements for gyms promising overnight transformations, past testosterone-fueled testimonials about “beast mode” and “grindset.”

you'd sworn to yourself that as soon as you had the financial breathing room, as soon as you didn’t have to mentally calculate whether a dinner out would set you back for the week, you’d do it. invest in yourself. not in aesthetics, not in performance metrics, but in survival.

something that made you feel safer so that walking home late at night wouldn’t always feel like a loaded gun pressed to the base of your spine. you wouldn’t keep your keys between your fingers like they were some flimsy excuse for a weapon.

you found a coach who was within budget, someone named könig. a straightforward profile without a profile picture and just a handful of mid-range reviews.

it was genuine in its mediocrity, not glowing in the way bot-generated reviews tended to be, but not riddled with horror stories of scams or half-baked lessons either. people mentioned that he knew what he was doing, that he was patient, that his methods were effective.

but there were a few comments about his communication too. his english, more specifically.

at first, you were more nervous about looking weak than anything else.

logically, you knew that was the point. that was why you were paying for this— to get stronger, to learn. but the thought of stepping into a room filled with people who could probably bench your body weight while you struggled with a 25 kg deadlift made something inside you shrivel. made you feel like you’d be under a microscope, mistakes magnified. the thought of someone watching you fumble through drills, assessing your form— the potential for ridicule made your stomach knot up.

so, you signed up for solo lessons.

before you even met him, könig messaged you. a late-night notification breaking through the dim glow of your phone screen.

“is it ok that my english is not so good?”

you blinked at the screen. read it again. there was something unexpectedly… earnest about it. a self-consciousness that you rhymed with your own.

your thumbs hovered over the keyboard before you replied. “of course! i don’t mind at all.” then, after a second, “i’ll probably learn some phrases from you, haha.”

a long pause. three dots appeared, disappeared, reappeared. finally— “this is nice. i will try my best.”

something about that, about the fact that he had asked at all, the careful way he phrased it, stuck with you. you didn't know why, but it did.

the first time you met könig, you nearly turned around and walked straight back out the door, convinced your coach still hadn’t arrived.

at first, you genuinely thought you had the wrong room. or maybe there’d been some kind of mix-up, like another instructor using the space before your lesson.

you had walked into the gym expecting— what? some average-looking guy in a compression shirt? maybe a little bulky, maybe with that particular kind of gym-rat energy, all tight smiles and way-too-enthusiastic handshakes.

instead you got könig.

a massive, six-foot something, tank built like something that was meant to withstand damage and then deliver it back tenfold.

his hoodie, loose on his frame and looking a bit worse for wear from too many washes, still did nothing to hide the sheer scale of him. the water bottle he was holding was dwarfed by his hand and his arms, even relaxed at his sides, looked like they could crush a man’s ribs without much effort.

out of place. that was what he looked like. less self-defense coach and more guard stationed at the gates of hell.

you hesitated in the doorway, gripping the strap of your gym bag, suddenly hyperaware of every muscle in your body tensing up.

and then he spoke.

"… my client?” his voice was surprisingly soft. deep, yes, but smoothed down with the lilt of his accent.

you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes. jesus christ.

“uh, yeah, i think so,” you shifted on your feet, clearing your throat. “i booked the solo slots.”

he nodded. “good.” a pause. then, “you are… beginner?”

you exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh. “you could say that.”

his eyes smiled, something in the creases looking like amusement, before he jerked his head toward the back of the gym. “we start slow then.”

the whole thing went… surprisingly well.

könig was an amazing instructor for self-defense, not afraid to teach you moves that were downright dirty. not just the textbook counters or polished techniques that looked good in demonstrations but the kind of violence that left real damage. moves that could end a fight before it even started. his lessons were brutal in their practicality, built for survival, not sport.

his shrug always came before the skepticism could leave your mouth, as if he already knew the doubts forming behind your eyes. anticipation sat in his expression, waiting for you to question the practicality of a move that involved hitting someone's throat or breaking a wrist. waiting for that flicker of hesitation so he could counter it.

“has no rules, defense,” he simply told you, adjusting his gloves with a nonchalance that felt at odds with the destruction he'd just inflicted on the poor training dummy. his foot still pressed into its broken torso, the material caved inward like a crushed can. “s’long as you're safe, is good tactic.”

it was truth that didn’t need embellishment to him. könig wasn’t just saying it to justify his methods— it was a simple fact.

he made it seem less brutal, more justified. not just an excuse for violence but a reassurance, a lesson in survival.

it had you thinking if maybe you had been seeing things too rigidly, measuring combat in terms of right and wrong instead of what kept you breathing. könig didn’t. his world wasn’t one of fairness, it was of outcomes.

you exhaled, glancing at the poor, ruined dummy before looking back at him. “i think you broke it.”

könig tilted his head, unbothered. “hm. ja.” then, after a pause, he grinned, nudging the dummy’s crumpled remains with his boot like it might suddenly spring back to life. “but was good form, yes?”

the laugh that bubbled up caught you off guard, an unexpected burst of warmth. the corners of his grin lifted just a little higher at that.

texting started out as a necessity. scheduling changes, clarifying techniques, occasional reminders about bringing extra wraps. that was the whole point, really— a way to communicate outside of training.

somehow, though, könig turned out to be a menace over text. sarcasm practically dripped from his messages, sharpened now that he had the time to translate things properly. he was witty, sometimes outright ridiculous, and the sheer absurdity of his jokes caught you off guard more times than you could count.

könig: i think i have unlocked a new level of muscle soreness. my body is rejecting me. i am a broken man.

you: rip. gone and forgotten.

könig: good. don't tell my story. it's kind of pathetic.

“könig,” you typed one evening. “where the hell did you learn english?”

“the internet.”

immediate suspicion flooded your mind. “what part of the internet?”

“…the bad part.”

“be more specific.”

“ah…” there was a long pause, like he was regretting his choices. finally, “weird forums.”

apprehension curled at the base of your spine. “what kind of weird forums, könig?”

“…conspiracy theories.”

sheer, undiluted disbelief clung to you as you stared at your screen.

“WAIT” he backpedaled immediately, as if he could feel your judgment through the phone. “i was a child!!”

“A CHILD IN CONSPIRACY FORUMS?”

“it was not like that!!”

his frantic response only made you laugh harder. “then explain.”

“i was just reading, yes? stories. people told very cool stories. aliens, secret government projects, ghosts”

“oh my god, you were a cryptid kid.”

“nein!!”

amusement bloomed in your chest. “so what i’m hearing is you were, like, deep in the trenches. lizard people? JFK clone theories? the moon isn’t real?”

“…yes.”

“jesus christ.”

���it was fun!! and good english practice!”

“you learned english from paranoid men on the internet.”

“they were very passionate.”

laughter ripped through your chest so violently you nearly dropped your phone. könig sent a series of increasingly exasperated texts, all variations of “stop laughing”, which only made it worse.

every time you thought about it after that, a fresh wave of giggles overtook you. the next training session, you couldn’t even meet his eyes without picturing tiny könig hunched over an old computer, nodding solemnly as someone named TruthSeeker88 explained how the queen of england was actually a reptilian overlord.

he hated you for it. “you are evil,” he muttered when you brought it up again, shoving your shoulder lightly. “this is slander.”

“is it slander if it’s true?”

“YES.”

somewhere along the way, little snapshots of your lives started slipping into the conversation. könig sent blurry photos of his boots kicked up on a table, a war documentary playing in the background. “history lesson,” he’d caption, like he wasn’t watching something unreasonably brutal for fun. you sent the sky from your morning walk, pink bleeding into gold, and he always responded with a simple “pretty.”

you weren’t sure if he meant the sky or something else, but you let yourself wonder.

and then, selfies.

his were always shy, half-obscured, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to let you see too much despite the fact that you saw each other every week. the lower half of his face, mostly— jawline tucked into the shadows, the soft curve of a grin barely visible.

sometimes it was just his hands: wrapped around a steaming mug, fingers long and scarred, or flexed absentmindedly over his knee, veins shifting beneath pale skin. you never commented on them outright, just sent something casual— “cozy” or “nice gloves, old man”— but you always saved them, tucked away in your camera roll like little guilty pleasures.

yours were much less subtle in comparison.

exhausted post-workout, slumped against your couch with a dead-eyed stare. wrapped up in a hoodie, coffee in hand. the first time you sent one, you didn’t expect much. maybe a quick “good job” or some kind of fitness advice. instead, he sent “cute.”

you stared at the message for a full minute, blinking. your stomach did something stupid.

after that, he started commenting more. when you looked particularly grumpy, he’d send a teasing “you need nap, bird?” or “angry face. very scary.” and when you groaned about soreness, he was smug about it, “should have stretched. tsk tsk.”

it was cute. unbearably cute.

but all good things must come to an end.

one month. that’s how long this was supposed to last. four weeks of training, a neat little package of lessons that would leave you more capable of handling yourself in a fight. somewhere along the way, that timeline stretched, bending under the weight of something neither of you dared acknowledge.

könig should have cut you off weeks ago.

“you are expert already,” he tells you one evening, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. his tone is light, teasing, but there’s a hint of real curiosity beneath it. “i do not think class is needed. why do you keep taking?”

hesitation flickers in your chest. because of you, you want to admit, but the words sit heavy on your tongue, too risky, too exposing. instead, you roll your shoulders back and offer something easier, something safer.

“i need to beat you first.”

amusement dances across his features. könig huffs out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head as if considering the possibility.

“it will not happen in a million years, i think.”

arrogance suits him. confidence carved into his bones, stitched into the way he moves, the way he fights. you don’t argue because he’s right— he’s bigger, stronger, more experienced. if he wanted to, he could probably break you in half without much effort.

but miracles happen.

it’s a fluke. both of you know it. a momentary lapse, a split second where his guard lowers just enough for you to slip past his defenses. könig lets you try—indulges you, really, humoring your attempts at taking him down like he’s teaching a child to wrestle. that cockiness, that easy amusement, is what costs him.

somehow, impossibly, you get him in a triangle choke.

his body tenses the moment your thighs clamp around his neck, locking him in place. shock flickers in his eyes before it shifts into something unreadable, something quiet and assessing. his breath comes out steady despite the position he’s in, controlled in a way that makes your pulse stutter.

for a moment, you think you have him.

then, with an ease that’s almost insulting, he pries your legs apart, spreading them like it’s nothing.

a gasp hitches in your throat.

his movements don’t stop there— before you can even process what’s happening, he shifts, pressing himself close, kneeling between your thighs, completely caging you beneath him. his grin is wide, pleased, entirely too unbothered for someone who had just been seconds away from losing.

“very good, bird,” he praises. “very good takedown. i like.”

air sticks in your throat. something is wrong.

“k-könig-”

he blinks at you, tilting his head slightly. “ja?”

your bugged-out stare flicks downward, and his follows instinctively.

oh.

his entire body tenses. his pupils shrink.

understanding dawnes, slow and terrible, as he finally feels the press of something very, very apparent against you.

“that was not supposed to happen.”

no shit.

könig’s weight shifts over you, muscles tight as he tries to move away but instead— maybe by accident, maybe not— his cock drags against your core, thick even through the fabric separating you. the pressure is just enough to make your breath hitch, a spark of something warm licking up your spine before a sound slips from your throat.

he freezes, head jerking up like a startled animal, eyes darting around the empty training room, scanning for any sign that someone might’ve heard, his breath uneven as he listens, as you listen, as the silence between you stretches impossibly thin.

nothing. no one.

he exhales. something in his face twitches, like he’s still trying to convince himself this is real, that you really just made that sound because of him.

his gaze drops, landing back on you, mouth parting, jaw flexing. then his body moves again, slower this time, cock grinding against you, rubbing you through your clothes, dragging heavy between your thighs, and you swear you see his eyelids flutter just slightly at the friction.

his forehead presses against yours, breath coming faster. “tell me to stop.”

the words hit your skin as more air than voice, warm against your jaw, but you don’t even need to think about it, because stopping is the last thing you want right now, the very last thing your body would allow.

“d-don’t stop.”

he curses, words slipping before he can stop them, and you don’t know what they mean, only that they sound wrecked, like they’ve been dragged up from somewhere deep in his chest.

könig’s forehead presses harder into yours. his hands tighten at your waist. his breath comes out uneven, stumbling over itself, and his voice fumbles through the next words. “i don’t have lube.”

“we don’t nee-”

“we do.” his face twists a little, mouth pressing tight, like the idea of taking you without it is actually painful.

you swallow, shifting slightly under him, feeling just how big he is. slick gathers between your thighs, and before you can stop yourself, the question slips out, barely above a whisper.

“are you big?”

his lips twitch, like he’s fighting back a grin, like he can’t believe you just asked that, and then it spreads into something quintessentially könig, — slow, lazy, and warm.

he presses in harder, dragging over your soaked cunt through the fabric of your underwear. the friction pulls a gasp from your lips, hips rolling up instinctively.

his grin stretches wider, eyes flicking down to watch you grind against him. "i am not small."

heat floods you, pussy fluttering around nothing, aching. your hips move again, searching for more, slick soaking through your underwear. your head tips back, breath catching. the sound that escapes you is closer to a whimper than you’d like to admit.

his lips find your jaw, tongue flicking out, tasting sweat and skin. his voice follows his mouth, words warm against your neck. "pretty little pussy..." he murmurs, dragging the syllables out like he’s savoring them. "bet it’d feel better wrapped around me."

the sound that leaves your throat is humiliating, high-pitched and needy. you don’t mean to make it, but it’s too late.

könig grabs your wrist. pulls you up. your balance falters, and before you can recover, he hauls you toward the showers. boots thud against tile. the door slams, lock clicking into place.

his mouth finds yours before you can speak. lips crash into yours, messy and eager. tongues tangle, breaths mix, heat pouring between you as your fingers twist in his hair. a laugh bubbles up between kisses—yours or his, you can’t tell—and he groans into your mouth, grinning against your lips.

“fuck,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you. cheeks flush, eyes dark with something feral. “wanted this so long…”

clothes hit the floor in frantic shoves. hands fumble, pulling fabric away until skin meets skin, warmth pressing in on all sides.

his cock, thick, flushed, and dripping with precum, hangs between the two of you, weighed down by its own girth.

he sees your stare and grins. "big, huh?”

words fail you and for a moment you can't do anything but nod dumbly.

könig reaches past you, flicks on the shower. water crashes down, steam rising fast. the air thickens with heat and he wastes no time to pull you under the spray, water slicing over skin.

scarred hands find your face, thumbs brushing your jaw as his mouth returns to yours.

your hand slides down between you and wraps around his cock. konig's hips jerk forward, breath shuddering out against your lips.

“could kill you with this, eh?” his grin tugs lazy at the corners of his mouth. his chest lifts and falls, breaths dragging in deep, water cascading over both of you, hot against skin already burning.

your hand tightens, fingers sliding along the thick length of him, precum slicking your palm. warmth pulses beneath your touch, veins pronounced under your grip. he twitches when you give a slow twist near the tip, hips jolting forward. a groan rips from his throat, echoing off the tiled walls.

“scheiße,” he hisses, jaw working as he fights the urge to thrust. one hand flies to his hair, tugging as if the sting will help. water streaks down his face, lips parted, breaths breaking up his words.

“not helping,” you breathe, voice shaking. you press your mouth to his jaw, pressing a kiss there before your tongue darts out to taste the salt of his skin. his breath catches, eyes squeezing shut.

“oh, fuck-” his hips rock forward again, cock dragging through your fist, smearing more warmth along your stomach. precum drips from the flushed head, glistening in the steam-filled air.

a grin tugs at his lips, strained but there. “you tryna kill me?” the words slide out. "scheiß kleines ding…”

you laugh, kissing down his jaw. “not my fault you’re easy.” your thumb slides over the tip.

his head knocks back against the wall, neck stretching, throat working through a swallowed groan. “you- fuck- you think is easy?” a hand finds your chin, pulling your gaze up. “look at me.”

könig’s eyes catch yours. blown out. a ring of blue against black. then suddenly his lips curl, and his voice slips through his teeth.

“i have touched myself to you.”

you blink. “what?”

his grin widens. “before.” his hips push forward, cock dragging against your belly. “many times.”

your face burns.

“oh my god.”

his head dips, lips brushing yours, his breath hot and amused. “you do too, hm?”

your heart stops. heat shoots through you, cunt clenching. “yeah,” your breath shudders. “me too…”

his eyes widen, like he didn't expect you to admit to it, then narrows, grin pulling crooked. “yeah?” his cock twitches in your hand again. “fuckin’ knew it…” laughter spills out, breathless and warm.

könig’s head dips to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. tongue sliding against yours, messy and eager. laughter rumbles out, hips rolling, giggles slipping between mouths.

“fuckin’ knew it,” he repeats, words slurring together. “think about me late at night? fingers stuffed in that pretty cunt…”

you gasp, half scandalized, half aroused, hips shifting as slick pools between your thighs. “könig-”

“yeah?” another thrust. precum smears across your belly. “tell me.”

“i- fuck- yeah,” you breathe. “think about you all the time.”

he groans like the words alone could undo him. könig’s hands drop to grip your thighs, fingers digging firm into the flesh as he lifts you like you weigh nothing. your back meets the cold tile with a dull thud, heat from the shower clashing with the chill seeping through the wall.

your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him close. his cock drags through your folds, thick length sliding slick against your cunt, nudging your entrance but never pushing in.

könig watches your face, chest lifting with every shaky breath. “how much do you take?”

you blink, heat simmering through your skin. “what?”

his cock slides against you again, harder this time, grinding against your clit, making you twitch. “normally. how much?”

a shrug rolls through your shoulders, confidence bubbling up, reckless. “all of it,” you answer without thinking, back arching, rubbing against him, arms looping around his neck. “i can take everything.”

he stills, expression shifting— his lips part, brows lifting just slightly. then he laughs, a low, amused sound, mouth curling into a grin. “nein, you can not.”

challenge flares in your chest. “i can.”

another laugh, softer now, hands adjusting on your thighs. “you are-” he shakes his head, grinning wider, lips brushing your cheek as he exhales, “-so very stupid.”

heat pools in your stomach, thighs clenching around him. “i’ll prove it.”

hands grip your thighs, fingers pressing deep into flesh as könig shifts his weight, cock grinding slow against your entrance, precum smearing where you’re slick and warm. a breath shudders out of him, jaw tight, brows pinching like he’s trying to hold something back. “you say this,” he mutters, “and then you cry.”

“i won’t,” you shoot back.

“hm.” his gaze flicks down to where his cock pushes against you, dragging through your folds. “we’ll see.”

könig’s fingers flex. his grip tightens and your breath hitches. “ready?”

“please,” you gasp, nails biting into his shoulders.

he grits his teeth, cock sliding as deep as your walls will allow, head bumping against your cervix. every sob that escapes your lips makes his hips stutter, breath catching like he’s holding on by a thread.

"oh shit," he mutters. "look at you... crying so much."

"feels too good." your hands are weak on his shoulders.

könig grins, breathless, hands squeezing your hips. "ja? but you begged for this, no? say ‘please, könig, fuck me’-" he mocks your voice, low and whiny, then thrusts, ripping a squeak out of you. "and now you cry like a little baby like i said."

you shake your head against his chest, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. you love it—you love his cock so much it hurts—but you just can’t stop the sounds. every thrust drags a new sob from you, body trembling in his grip.

"shh." he squints down at you. "you are too loud-" his hand slides to the back of your head, pressing you close. "fuck... here. suck."

your lips brush his chest, and his nipple is right there, stiff against warm skin. you hesitate, dizzy from pleasure, but then your mouth opens and you latch on, tongue flicking over the peak before you suck soft and slow.

könig’s hips jerk.

"oh, shit- good girl," he breathes, head falling back. his fingers tangle in your hair. "yeah, just like that. little baby needs something to suck on, huh?"

your cheeks burn, whining against his chest, mouth working over his nipple as his cock drags in deep and slow. he groans, low and desperate, fucking you through your cries.

"such a messy baby," he grins, looking far too fucked-out to be as smug as he is. "can’t stop crying, can you? too good, yes? too much?"

you nod, sobbing around him, and könig just laughs, like he can’t believe how fucked you both are.

"keep sucking," he growls. "will fuck you ‘til you’re dumb.”

[musetheapothecary]

scarlet ink — blue lock, yakuza boss!itoshi sae x f!reader, arranged marriage, estranged childhood friends, aged up characters, mentions of violence typical for yakuza but nothing graphic, smut, piv sex, oral f!receiving, virginity loss for f!reader, (unrealistic) first time sex, squirting, alcohol consumption, semi public (car) sex, reader is referred to as "my wife" and "greedy girl" and "good girl", honestly a pwp that ended up having some plot, 10.1k words

collab fic for cherry velvet run by @iwaasfairy

Itoshi Sae may be a high ranking member of the yakuza, but you have a foolproof plan.

Step 1: marry him.

Step 2: kill him.

Perfect. Genius. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

"You can drop the act, now," Sae says mildly, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them up his forearms. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his irezumi, at the indisputable fact that he belongs to the underworld. Cold teal eyes meet yours and you swallow.

This is not the same man you grew up with.

"Will we consummate our marriage before you try to kill me?"

"Haha…" you laugh weakly. "What do you mean?"

He raises an eyebrow. Drags a hand through his hair. You can't help but stare at his face, his hands, the way his shirt flexes with the movement. At least your new husband is hot.

Sae has always been attractive, but the years apart and… everything in between have made him hotter, somehow.

Too bad he has to die.

"You want to kill me," Sae says evenly. "So you forced your grandfather to offer your hand in marriage, to tie our families together. Once I die, you'll be able to seize control of my assets and reputation. But to do that —"

He takes a step forward, tilting his head so that he looks down at you with those cold, blank eyes. "To do that, we'll need to consummate our marriage. So what will it be?"

Well. Okay. Maybe you've fucked up.

How the hell does he know all of that? Your conversations were always behind closed doors — did someone spill the beans?

But — no, he doesn't know everything.

What are your options here? Deny it, and keep acting like you're deeply in love? Or do you — admit it, and see what happens? He knows your plan and hasn't hurt you for it. In fact, he even went along with it.

… But why?

"You still married me," you say carefully. It's not an admission to the plan, but it's close. It's kind of nice, having it all laid out. You've held these secrets for so long. Even your own family was kept in the dark. "Why?"

Sae pauses in the act of loosening his tie, lithe fingers still caught in the knot. It comes undone at his next tug, the expensive silk trailing down his chest. "… what about it?"

You splutter. You can't help it. Infuriating man.

"Aren't you — I dunno, worried about getting murdered or something?"

"If I took every threat to my life seriously I wouldn't get anything done," Sae says. "I'm aiming for the top. Anything else is irrelevant."

Heat floods your cheeks at the casual statement. It's annoying, but his confidence is… hot. You watch wordlessly as he undoes the top few buttons of his shirt.

"Well? I can still make this good for you, you know."

Ugh. It's a sudden, unpleasant reminder for what comes next. You've heard the stories from your friends in college — the pain, the fumbling hands, the discomfort of losing your virginity.

You raise your chin and meet his eyes. He suspects, but he still married you. Maybe you can drop the act, and his overconfidence will be his downfall. Maybe you can go back to your usual self. "We'll see about that."

Sae looks at you for a moment, those summer ocean eyes unreadable. For a blink, you think you catch the ghost of a smile on his lips, and oh — your heart does something traitorous at the sight.

He almost looks like he did all those years ago.

And then he's close, and his fingers grip your chin, holding you still as he leans down and presses his lips to yours.

Sae kisses you and it's warm. You thought he'd be cold like his eyes, but his hands and lips are warm, and soft, and carefully coaxing, until you can't help but kiss him back. Matching the movement of his lips and his tongue as he tilts your head, as you open up for him, reluctant to give in but forgetting your protests with every warm press of his lips and breath against yours.

He tastes like the sake you shared earlier during the ceremony.

The band around your waist loosens and you suck in a breath of surprise, but Sae keeps kissing you, both hands now working open your kimono until it hangs on your frame. You make a quiet noise of protest when he smirks into the kiss, but before you can object he's removed your hands from his shoulders — when did that happen — and the heavy fabric pools to the ground.

"Is that all it takes?" he asks, eyes half lidded. The way he looks at you makes you feel hot and shivery. "You're behaving already."

Asshole.

"Shut up," you bite out, stepping into his space and releasing a breath at the dense, solid muscle that meets your hands. Sae isn't as tall as other yakuza members you've seen, but he's sturdy, and still taller than you. It should make you feel small, being dressed in your underclothes like this while he's still fully dressed, but the sight of him just makes you want to ruin his stupid suit.

Sae lets you push him to the bed — your new bed, your marriage bed — and you almost think he'll let you get away with it, but as he gets close to the frame he turns, leans down to kiss you again, follows you as your back hits the mattress.

"Play nice," Sae murmurs, lips drifting to your ear. You shiver as he nips at the sensitive skin by your jaw. "You know how this works."

You do, in theory. But you're inexperienced. It was hard finding the energy for boyfriends when you were busy working all the time, trying to keep your family's debt at bay.

Besides, Rin and Sae always stared down boys who would approach you, offering cutting remarks within earshot until boys just stopped trying.

Sae makes you scoot up the bed, until your head rests on the pillows. The movement drags at your sheer under robe so that it hangs off your shoulders, open at the front, exposing your bare skin. You shiver.

He leans down to cover you immediately, lips pressing hot at your throat, your collarbones, the curve of your breasts. A funny sound escapes your mouth and he does it again, lips skimming whisper soft along your skin until he abruptly sucks your nipple between his teeth.

Your back bows as sensation crashes through you. "O-oh!"

Sae tugs your under robe the rest of the way off your body, exposing more of your skin to his touch. He huffs when you squirm, pins your hips still with his own. Your eyes widen at the hard outline of him pressing into your thighs.

"Be good," he murmurs.

"There's no way," you say, ache swirling in your gut. It's so hot. Sae clamps a hand on your thigh and guides your legs open, settles himself between them. The clear difference in strength makes you dizzy. "I-Itoshi-san…"

"Yes?"

What the hell. "Are you going to keep your clothes on?"

Sae raises an eyebrow. "Look at you. Begging already?"

You groan and roll your eyes. If this is how he's going to be, maybe you will ruin his stupid suit, after all. A glimmer of amusement lights up his eyes and he leans down to kiss you again. His breathing is steady and even, and you'd be offended except you can feel his fingers trembling slightly as they skirt the edge of your panties.

"Itoshi-san, this isn't going to work," you gasp, hips fidgeting against the hardness pressing on you. There's no way, right? How is he — even just like this, with your hips aligned — it just doesn't seem possible that he could — fit.

Sae huffs and his fingers catch at your waistband. "It will," he promises. You blink as he sits up to pull your panties down, shivering at the delicate grasp on your ankles as he maneuvers your legs up to slip them off you without moving from his spot between your knees. Your legs drop weakly back to the bed on either side of him. "You can hold on to me."

"Wh-why would I need to?" you ask, voice cracking as he slides a finger through your folds. Oh.

His gaze flicks up to yours as he does it again, something in his expression hungry and smug. You feel frozen, muscles tense, as he touches lightly at the bud half hidden beneath its hood and your curls, but the jolt of pleasure is so strong and sudden you cry out in shock.

Sae hums thoughtfully. You want to wiggle free, to get away from this touch that's driving you to madness, but he clamps one hand firm on your hip and pins you there. Heat rushes through you.

Beyond the sounds of your harsh breathing, you distantly hear the wet squelch of his fingers tracing leisurely patterns through your folds. Your thighs feel tight, your core wound up. You want — something.

Sae sinks down before you can protest, teal eyes steady on yours as he licks a stripe up your pussy.

You choke.

He seems to take it as a good sign, because he does it again. And again. And again — with a careful circle around your clit, his fingers leaving wet messy streaks as he pulls at your skin to expose the hard bud.

Once your clit is uncovered he pays special attention to it, careful about the pressure and sensation and heat. You squirm and wiggle and moan, unable to help it, wanting to escape and get closer all at the same time.

You can't even tell if you're saying words at all, but you know Sae hears you when he slides one finger into your tight walls.

He exhales, hard.

"Itoshi-kun, Itoshi —"

You feel full and empty all at once. Sae keeps his attention on your clit as he fingers you open carefully, reaching spots inside you that you didn't even know existed. You've never brought yourself to completion before — always too scared by the pleasure, too self conscious to fully let go.

But Sae is relentless and unforgiving, and your thoughts unspool into white noise. You whimper when he adds a second finger, but you moan when he adds a third.

Finally — full. Slick and wet and tight, but you're full, and your nerves are singing, and your core feels stuffed with lightning. Sae fucks you with his fingers, careful to graze that spongy bit that makes tears prick from the corners of your eyes. It feels — so good.

Good and scary. A rapidly rising wave of something so good it makes your head spin. You recognize the feeling vaguely and panic starts to set in, makes you grab at his wrist and dig into the delicate bones there.

Sae keeps going. Ignores your weak grip, keeps pressing up into that spot inside you, keeps sucking at your clit as you sob. He somehow manages to get your legs up over his shoulders, keeps you from wiggling away as he lays flat against the mattress.

"S-stop, Itoshi — Itoshi-san, please, stop," you gasp, voice wavering.

He doesn't listen. And then his other hand moves from your hip to your belly, presses down just as he fucks his fingers into you again, and you — crash.

Oh.

You go weightless. Pleasure courses through your body, and from the distant hazy reaches of your mind you hear Sae groaning.

He keeps you from collapsing and lowers you carefully back down on the bed, but you can't think. You barely remember to breathe.

The sheets are soaked.

"What the…"

"You've made a mess," Sae says, but he sounds… hoarse. You squint blearily as he wipes his chin with his forearm, your cheeks heating in embarrassment at the clear evidence that you've ruined his suit.

And the sheets. And your under robe, bunched up beneath your back.

He raises an eyebrow. Stupid stoic man and his stupid suit. You're glad it's ruined — who wears a suit when his bride is in a kimono?

"You can take another," he says, and he catches your ankle when you jerk and try to flail away.

"No, I can't, Itoshi-kun," you yelp, squeaking when he drags you effortlessly back towards him. Your muscles feel like jelly. He pauses, his face unreadable, but you squirm in discomfort. "Ugh, the sheets."

"I'll change them later," he says, and you stop struggling briefly to blink at him. Why would he do it when he has people taking care of his house? "Move over to this side."

Sae moves you himself, when it becomes clear that you're still recovering from whatever he just did to you. The easy way he lifts and maneuvers you shouldn't be hot, but you can't deny the simmering heat in your blood.

"It'll feel better if you cum again," he says quietly. There's no way you can let him do that again. You'll die.

You reach for him. Maybe if he's distracted with kissing you, he'll forget. Your thighs are still trembling.

You can taste yourself on his tongue, his lips. Sae huffs with amusement and nips at your lip when you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug. "My wife," he says, and the phrase curls hot in your gut.

He breaks the kiss to undress, efficient and methodical. You stare, wide eyed, as the intricate designs of his irezumi come into full view. They start at his forearms, curving around to his shoulders and back. The heavy ink stands stark against his skin, and you shiver.

Sae pauses once he's in his briefs.

"Look at you," he murmurs, grabbing your thighs and forcing them apart. "Still so wet for me."

Heat rushes to your cheeks. It's been ages since you last saw him, and it's like your silly teenage crush has burst back in full force. That, and he keeps rubbing circles into your ankle resting by his lap. It's distracting.

"Will you…" You can't say it.

Thankfully, Sae doesn't seem to care. He sheds his briefs and you swallow hard at the sight of his cock, leaking and heavy between his legs.

"Hold on," he says. You watch, entranced, as the dense muscles of his torso move as he reaches past you for the nightstand. You hear the distinct sound of crinkling and then Sae is back, gripping the base of his cock to roll a condom on.

He keeps his hand there as he leans over you. The head of his cock brushes against your folds and you suck in a breath, heartbeat rattling in your chest. "Itoshi-san…"

Sae keeps going, guiding his cock along your wetness until you can see the sheen and evidence of your arousal coating him. You're aching again, clenching around nothing, sensitive to his touch.

"Hold onto me," he instructs, and you reach up to loop your arms around his neck, biting at your lip with nerves fluttering in your stomach.

You brace yourself for the pain.

It just… feels funny, at first. Sae nudges the head of his cock past the tightness of your entrance and then stops, breathing out slowly. You squirm a little at the unfamiliar feeling, clenching hard at the pressure, and Sae pulls out.

He pushes back in before you can say anything, sliding a few inches deeper. You gasp at the stretch, nails digging into his shoulders. Sae doesn't make a sound, merely fucks into you slowly, carefully, his hands bunched into fists by your shoulders.

He bottoms out.

"Oh!" You slap your hand over your mouth. How embarrassing.

Sae looks down at you, his expression blank, his jaw tight. His hips nudge yours, and the stretch to your thighs burns but it's nothing compared to the strange foreign feeling of being so full inside. His fingers earlier helped, but this is… different. "Does it hurt?"

"N-no…"

"I'm going to move," Sae murmurs.

A muscle in his jaw feathers as he begins to thrust. You get used to the feeling slowly, and the discomfort blends into pleasure, into sparks flickering behind your eyelids. Sae shifts and hits a different spot inside you and you gasp, dizzy, the ache in your gut intensifying with every wet smack.

"Nghh —" It's overwhelmingly good. You can't help but try to meet his thrusts, your hips shifting sloppily in search of that mind numbing heat.

"Greedy girl," Sae huffs, his tone still unnervingly even, but undeniably fond. You yelp when he grips your ankles, but the sound melts into a moan when he settles your legs over his shoulders, bending you practically in half. You can't move anymore — you can only take it, fingers twisted in his hair, holding on for dear life as he angles his hips to hit that spot over and over.

"I-Itoshi-kun I think I'm gonna — I'm — oh, fuck — please, please, please —"

You don't even know what you're begging for, because he's fucking you in earnest now, heavy, hard thrusts like he wants to mold your insides to the shape of his cock. You can feel your pussy squeezing around him, bearing down on the hot, hard length of him. Sweat drips from his face and lands hot on your cheek.

"Does it feel good?"

You're going to kill him, just as soon as you can form a coherent sentence. Sae slows down, his hips rolling languidly so that you can feel every inch of his cock dragging through you. It takes effort, but you manage to open your eyes against the onslaught of pleasure.

His eyes flicker over your entire face, as if he's memorizing every expression he wrings out of you. When he meets your eyes, he raises an eyebrow as if he has all the time in the world.

"Can you just — oh, you — bastard —"

Amusement lights up his eyes and he shifts, bracing himself on one elbow so that he can reach down to rub filthy wet circles around your clit. You choke on a sob, thighs burning at the stretch as he presses you down. "Is this what you wanted?"

Stars burst behind your eyelids as you cum.

"Hah — shit."

Sae's thrusts grow sloppy as he cums. You can feel him swell and throb inside you, but it only makes you squeeze harder around him, desperate to feel him lose it. After a long moment, he manages to remove your legs from his shoulders and leans down to kiss you.

It's more like breathing into each other's mouths than kissing, but he keeps close, close enough that you can feel the fast, thumping beat of his heart against your own skin. It's surprisingly romantic, to kiss right after cumming together, but you're too hazy and fucked out to think about it.

After what feels like ages, Sae reaches down to keep the condom in place and pulls out. You squint sleepily at the thick, milky liquid inside, watching with mild interest as he ties it off and rolls off the bed to toss it. You feel boneless, your muscles melted into the mattress, a steady, unfamiliar soreness between your legs.

"Come on," Sae says, but he scoops you up before you can figure out what he wants.

"Itoshi!" you yelp, arms coming up around his neck so you can hang on for dear life. Sae seems unbothered, carrying you to the suite's bathroom as if you weigh nothing.

How he can walk, after all that, is beyond you. If you try to stand right now, you'll definitely collapse like a newborn deer.

Sae sets you down on the wet bath's stool and puts the detachable shower head in your hand. You stare down at it, bemused, until Sae hums. "Want me to bathe you, too?"

"Fuck off," you mumble, suddenly bone deep tired. Getting clean feels like the hardest thing in the world.

Sae disappears once you start to wash yourself off. The warm water is soothing to your aching muscles, and you take deep breaths as you rub soap into your skin. That unfamiliar ache between your legs is still there, but you slowly start to come back to your senses as you wash up.

You nearly drop the shower head when Sae reappears. He doesn't say anything, merely takes it from you and turns it towards his body. You stand on shaky legs with an exhale and exit, snagging a towel along the way to dry off.

He made the bed. He even left a clean pair of underwear and a large shirt for you to pull on.

You stare at it. The house is big for the two of you, even with some of his men staying in the detached buildings dotted around his property. Still, you don't want to go wandering for a spare room right now — who knows which men are out and about — and drowsiness washes through you in waves.

You pull on the clothes, climb into bed, and snuggle beneath the covers. It's a big bed. Even if Sae joins you, you won't even notice.

Besides. The marriage is consummated now. Divorce is out of the question. Your life is forever entwined with his, like it or not. You can handle sharing a bed.

He'll be dead soon, anyway. Just as soon as you figure out the easiest way to kill him. You sigh. You secretly have your doubts that it'll be possible, but you have to hold on. For the sake of your family, and for the sake of Rin.

Then this big bed will be yours, and you can take the house and his money and your family will never have to worry again.

You sense it when he pauses by your side some moments later. "Itoshi…? What're you waiting for?" You yawn widely and snuggle further down. "Come to bed."

The room is so quiet you hear it when he sighs. Is he annoyed that you took his side of the bed or something? Well, tough luck. You're way too comfortable to think about moving now, so he can either join you or find another place to sleep.

The mattress barely dips when he slides into the space next to you. You'll figure out the rest of your plans tomorrow. You still need to get ahold of his financial records to make sure your name is on everything.

You clutch the blanket and sigh. He smells like citrus and sea salt, sharp and clean.

The next morning, he's gone.

Gone. Days turn into weeks. Then… months.

You wander the grounds and snoop around the rooms of the house, hoping to find something good. But the rooms are bare of anything important — clearly he conducts his business somewhere else.

You find evidence of other things, though. Framed paintings on the walls from all of your favorite artists. Your favorite snacks stocked in the kitchen pantry.

You get a delivery every other week of a selection of the newest books and manga volumes you've been keeping track of getting for yourself. It's… weird.

Sae clearly remembers your shared past, and he's kept track of your current interests. Your courtship was short, and you didn't spend much time together before donning your wedding kimono and trading sake cups — but he remembers.

It would be sweet, maybe, if you didn't feel a bit like a tamed wildcat stalking his grounds. It's unsafe for you to wander the city freely, so a couple of his men are always around, but being followed is so creepy you end up spending most of your time on his property or at a nearby river walk.

The men never talk to you, though, and it makes you feel a little invisible. You call your friends, but they were friends of proximity, and you can't exactly tell them about your new yakuza husband. It's a little strange, a little lonely. You spent one night with Sae, but it was real, and you didn't have to hide anything about your circumstances because he knew it all already.

Besides, you'll never be able to murder the man if he's not around. And it could be better this way — if one of his rivals took him out, it would save you the trouble — but you still need to make sure you're the one controlling everything when he dies.

Where the hell did he go?

You stare at your phone and the dial tone droning through the speakers. Your husband won't pick up his phone, he won't come home — there's only one thing to do.

Your friends are delighted at your call, and they're especially excited when you tell them your plans for the night. Sae had given you a black credit card the day you signed your family registration papers, and you tuck it into your wallet before heading out on your mission.

"Hey — oh, are we supposed to call you Itoshi-san now?" Your friends laugh and welcome you back into the group. "Is this dress new? You look hot. Your husband lets you walk around like this?"

A few drinks later and you're on top of the world.

The club pulses and shimmers with light and sound. You can hardly hear yourself think, but that's good. There's no chance for conversation, so you bat your lashes and smile pretty and join the throng of dancers in the middle of the floor.

Your dress is more of a glittery scrap of fabric held together with string and dreams. It clings to your body, the hem resting just below the curve of your ass, the high neckline accentuating the slope of your bare shoulders.

It's almost funny, how quickly he finds you.

"Having fun?" His voice is low and even in your ear, but his grip on your waist is hard. "You should be doing your best not to piss me off."

"What're you talking about?" you ask, tipping your head back to rest against his shoulder. It's dizzying, being so close to him again so suddenly. Citrus and sea salt cuts through the haze, makes your thighs clench at the reminder of the last time you were so close to your husband.

Sae sighs, and then he spins you to face him properly.

It's so easy for him to move you. A shiver runs down your spine.

Sae narrows his eyes. "Don't play stupid."

"Dance with me?" You tilt your head and run your hands up his arms, swallowing at the shift of his muscles beneath your palms.

It's unfair, but now that you've remembered, you can't stop remembering — the feeling of his hands on you, of his tongue and fingers dragging you to the peak of pleasure. That feeling of fullness is the worst thing to recall, because now all you can think about is how empty you are.

A fizzle of pleasure washes down your back. Your plan to lure him out worked. And now —

Sae is dancing with you.

He's — no, he's not dancing, he's — bending over and hauling you off your feet, tossing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

"Ah!" you yelp, and the sound is lost to the dance beat. "What the — let me down!"

Sae wraps a firm arm around your thighs, keeping you balanced as he starts to walk. The crowd doesn't exactly part for him, but he moves smoothly through, and soon you're bursting out of the club and into the crisp midnight air.

"Put me down," you demand, slapping at this back. Your voice sounds loud in your own ears after the heavy beat of the music, but you can still hear Sae clearly when he snorts.

"No."

"I'll throw up on your suit," you threaten. Your stomach protests against the pressure of his shoulder, the alcohol you consumed earlier sloshing around alarmingly. Squirming doesn't do anything — his grip is too strong. "Or I'll — I'll scream for help."

"You can try," Sae says, and he sounds vaguely amused. "But I'm giving you what you wanted."

That makes you pause. A brisk breeze whips through and you shiver, suddenly hyperaware of how short your dress is, and how it's riding up steadily as he walks.

At this rate, you'll moon the whole city. You know you've sunk low, but fuck. You still have some pride. "Put me down!" you wiggle harder, but Sae just huffs. "I'll cut your balls off, Itoshi Sae, if you don't put me down right fucking now!"

Sae readjusts his grip on your thighs, his hand landing so high up you can feel his fingers nudging against the curve of your ass. He tugs your dress down. Heat shoots through your body like a lightning bolt and you feel your cheeks get hot.

"There you go," he says evenly. "Now keep still."

"Watch your hands, you pervert," you hiss. You can already feel bruises starting to form where he's holding you, his grip so tight it's now safer not to move.

"You're my wife," Sae says. There's a tinge of amusement in his tone that makes you flush. "Isn't it a little too late to act shy now?"

"You're the worst," you mutter. "Where are you taking me, anyway?"

"Somewhere private," he says. "Watch your head."

You yelp as you're suddenly tossed into the backseat of a shiny black car, scrambling backwards as Sae enters and shuts the door behind him. The overhead light glows for a moment, illuminating the leather interior and Sae's bangs, gelled back as usual.

Then the light clicks off, and your senses abruptly shift to focus on every stuttering breath leaving your lungs. You hear the shuffle of fabric rustling as he presumably takes off his jacket. "Did you hit your head?" Sae asks.

You can't see him yet, but you feel his fingers trail lightly up your bare legs. You are undeniably sober now. "Where have you been?"

"It's none of your business," Sae says, hands stopping at the edge of your dress. "Do you have a lot of clothes like this?"

You scowl in the darkness and shift to sit up more, dragging your legs away from his warm hands. He clamps a hand around your ankle, stopping you from turning to sit properly in the backseat. "Let go of me."

"You know exactly what you were doing," Sae says. He sounds bored. "Behave."

"Or what?"

Sae's grip tightens on your ankle. "Do you want me to show you?"

Your eyes widen in spite of yourself. The windows are tinted, but you're still in public. He can't be serious.

"Right here?"

"It's not much of a dress," he says. You flinch in the inky darkness, because his voice is much closer than you expected.

His lips graze your cheek. "What was so important that you went out dressed like this?"

"You were ignoring my calls," you mumble, shrinking into the seat and door. He moves with you, and in your slowly adjusting vision you catch a flash of teal before his lips are at your neck. "You disappeared for months! What kind of husband are — hey —"

"Did you really expect me to stick close to someone trying to kill me?" Sae asks, and his tone is so dry it makes you snort in spite of yourself.

"Who says I'm trying to kill you? And besides, I thought you didn't have time to pay attention to murder plans," you say. He sighs and nips at your skin a second later. You yelp. Pleasure sparkles down your spine. "How did you even find me so fast?"

Sae pulls back and you miss the warmth of his body immediately, catching at his shirt before he gets too far. He wraps his fingers around your own, the callouses rough, but — his touch is gentle. "Don't ask stupid questions."

Right. Of course his men told him.

"If I answer my phone, will you stop causing trouble?" Sae asks.

It would be a step in the right direction. But really… "I want to go with you. Wherever you're going."

You don't want to get left behind again.

Sae releases your hand and grabs your waist, lifting you onto his lap with ease. You squeak in surprise, your dress riding up obscenely as your legs spread to accommodate him, until it's practically rucked up your waist. "Itoshi!"

"Is that really what you want?" he asks. Your vision has adjusted enough now to catch the way he raises an eyebrow in quiet judgment.

You have to lean towards him to keep from hitting your head on the car's ceiling, but you brace your hands on his shoulders so you don't collapse too far forward. "Yes," you say, heat rising in your face as he sweeps his hands down to your butt.

"Even when I'm handling business?" Sae's fingers slip beneath your panties and you squirm at the rough scrape of his callouses against your skin. "When I'm dealing out punishment?"

"I want to be with you," you say, fighting for an even tone to match his own. His touch is driving you crazy. "I'm your wife."

"You are," he allows, and he leans forward to brush his lips across yours. "My wife."

Sae kisses you languidly, as if he has all the time in the world. You melt into it, already soft and buzzing with warmth from the alcohol earlier. You'd be lying if you said you didn't miss this, even though he's only touched you once before.

He licks into your mouth and you whine a little, fingers digging into his shoulders, and he pulls back with a huff.

"Fine."

You blink your eyes open, dazed and hot beneath your skin. "Fine?"

"Come along, if you want," Sae says. His voice is low, but in the inky darkness of the car everything feels magnified. He brushes a finger along your soaked cunt. "But don't run away scared at what you see. I won't run after you."

"I know what I've married into," you huff. You can't help your hips sinking, chasing after the feeling. "Why would I want to run?"

"Good girl," he murmurs, and the amusement is so clear in his voice you lean forward to kiss it away.

You forget you're in a car, parked who knows where in public, and that the windows may be tinted but that doesn't mean they're soundproof. You kiss him eagerly, slipping your tongue into his mouth and licking at his teeth, forgetting everything except that this is Itoshi Sae. Everything is hot, your core aches, you want something desperately.

Sae lets you take the lead for a few moments, swallowing down your gasp when he sinks two fingers into you without preamble. You're so wet he slides in easily, and his breath escapes in a huff.

"Ride my hand," he orders quietly, lips catching at your ear. You make a funny noise, heat and lightning twisting in your core.

He helps — his thumb catches at your clit and his fingers stretch open every time you roll your hips, the ache and drag of your soaked panties clinging to your wet folds only adding to the build up of pleasure.

You're clumsy, but you chase after it, quiet little gasps and moans falling from your lips as you press your face into his neck. Sae keeps fingering you, his other hand roaming up your back to tug at the little strings holding your dress together.

He tugs a little too hard and abruptly the front of your dress falls open, exposing your breasts to the rapidly warming air inside the car. You whine as your nipples graze the firm muscles of his chest, pressing closer to him as every nerve ending sparks with the movement.

"Look at you," he breathes, and his hand returns to grip your hip, guiding you firmly into riding his fingers in rhythm.

Fuck. It's unfair how easily he moves you.

The wet squelch of every thrust of his fingers sounds loud in the confines of the car. The leather seats creak with every rock of your hips, your breaths hot against his neck as you clench your eyes shut tight.

"I think — I'm gonna —"

Sae slides a third finger in.

And you cum. Waves of pleasure crash through you, whiting out your vision as a strangled moan tumbles from your lips. Sae keeps his fingers inside you as your pussy clenches hard around him, the ache in your core lingering even as you sob in relief at the release.

You collapse into his lap. Sae kisses you back when you seek his lips blindly, warm and firm and with a quiet little noise that almost sounds like surprise.

Now that you're pressed up fully against him, you can feel him, the hot length of him hard against your thigh. You can't help but grind on it weakly, giggling a little when Sae grunts.

"Behave," he reminds you, pulling his fingers out and watching you with half lidded eyes as he sucks them into his mouth. You flush at the sheen of wetness dripping down to his wrist.

"Don't you want to…?" You clench down around nothing and frown.

Sae raises an eyebrow. He finishes licking his fingers clean and reaches back down to adjust your panties to cover you up fully again. Your cheeks heat.

"We're in public," he says blandly.

Oh, you're going to kill him. "You just — but we just —"

Sae leans over and knocks on the window. "Take us home."

Embarrassment floods your system as the front door abruptly opens. One of his men slides into the driver's seat and turns on the car, punching a few buttons to begin defogging the windows.

Sae wordlessly pulls your dress back together but keeps you in his lap, deft fingers tying the strings together along your back as you hold the pieces up in the front. Then he grabs his jacket and drapes it around your shoulders, tucking you into it and wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you from climbing off his lap.

You remain silent during the car ride home, merely shooting him glares every time he catches your eye with the ghost of a smirk on his lips. You can feel him, still solid and hard and hot against your thigh, but he makes no move to adjust and lets you keep pressing against his cock.

Sae keeps you wrapped into his jacket once you arrive, merely settles his hands on your ass and carries you inside with your legs wrapped around his waist like a koala. You keep your face tucked into his neck to hide from meeting the eyes of any of his men, inhaling the citrus and sea salt scent of him as your fluttering heart fights to return to a normal rhythm.

"You've ruined another suit," Sae says evenly, kicking the bedroom door shut behind him. You blink, lashes tickling his neck. "Do you always get this wet?"

"I don't know," you huff, irritation furrowing your brows. "I've only ever been with you."

"Hm."

Sae leaves the lights off and carries you over to the bed before dropping you unceremoniously onto the mattress. You bounce a few times with surprise, scrambling to sit up. "What the hell?"

"Did I say we were done?" Sae asks. You blink quickly, trying to get your vision to adjust. Moonlight filters in through the windows and bathes him in a silvery glow, lights up his teal eyes like stained glass. The mattress dips as he climbs after you, and then you feel his fingers wrap around your ankle.

It doesn't scare you, though. Sae has had plenty of chances to actually hurt you, and he seems intent on making you see stars instead.

You aren't complaining.

"Are you… going to fuck me now?"

"Do you want me to?"

You want to shake him by the shoulders until he bites his own tongue or something. What an irritating man. You bite your own lip instead.

"You've been gone for a while," you say. In the darkness of the bedroom, with his lips trailing kisses up your thighs, it feels easier to admit this. You're not — repressed, exactly, but you grew up with no time for boyfriends, no space to experiment, to learn what feels good. And then you married Sae, and he makes you cum so hard you can still feel the echoes of pleasure sinking deep into your bones. Of course you're chasing this feeling.

And in spite of yourself, you trust him.

It's hard not to. He abandoned you and Rin while you were teenagers, showing up only once with the beginnings of his irezumi climbing up his forearms. After that, you never heard from him again, not until you forced your grandfather to make the offer.

He stayed away to keep you all safe. You understand that, now.

"And?" Sae's lips move against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and you squirm. "Answer the question."

"Don't you want to?"

Sae sighs, like you've disappointed him, and you can't help but clench at the bolt of arousal that shoots through you. He doesn't answer, but he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pauses.

"Itoshi-san?"

"Did you ever wonder why I accepted your grandfather's proposal?"

"Huh?"

Sae rips your panties apart and you swallow hard at the rush of air over your soaked folds. "I could have married anyone," he continues conversationally. "Someone with better ties in the family, someone whose name would create a better alliance. But I accepted your proposal."

"Because… you think I'm attractive?" you guess. Sae snorts and leans down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. You turn your head, chasing him, frowning when he pulls back.

"Guess again."

"Because…" You're distracted. Sae undoes the ties of your dress and pulls it off your body, leaving you bare, skin prickling with goosebumps as he sits back to pull off his own clothes. You blink, mesmerized, as his cock comes free of his briefs, slapping against his pelvis. He's so hard, and leaking at the tip.

"Too slow," Sae murmurs, and then he's grabbing your ankles again and wrenching your thighs apart. You yelp when he leans down to suck your clit between his lips, hips jumping at the sudden sensation.

"A-ah! Hey!"

Sae ignores you, slips two fingers in and curls them upwards. You choke on your next gasp, fingers clutching at the blankets in desperation. You're still soft and wet and hot from your earlier orgasm, greedy walls sucking at his fingers every time he thrusts. Your thighs clench around his head.

Sae eats you out like he's never tasted anything so good in his life, his tongue tracing along every dip and fold, his fingers pumping into you and forcing you to face the onslaught of pleasure. It's messy and wet and hot, overwhelming and too fast.

It's too much and not enough. You cum on his hands and tongue two more times, until your thighs are shaking and your brain feels like mush. Every inch of skin feels sensitive, wired and wound up tight.

Sae crawls over you to grab a condom and you try to remember how to breathe.

He grunts as the head of his cock breaches your entrance, his head dropping into the dip of your neck as he bottoms out. You clench around him, teary eyed and trembling, feeling like you're going to burst with how good it all feels.

"Itoshi, will you — kiss me?"

Sae hums and leans up to kiss you, rolling his hips just to swallow down your moans. You've abandoned all of your sensibility, lost in the haze of his touch. He's so big and hard and you're so full, you feel so good, you can't help sinking your fingers into his hair and keeping him weakly tucked against you, just so that you can keep kissing him while he fucks you deep.

He still smells like sea salt and citrus. He smells like home.

You moan into his mouth and his lips curve against your own. It's been so long since your wedding night, even longer since those late nights growing up together watching the ocean waves, but it all rushes back and you cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him close.

"I'm — I think I'm —"

"Go ahead," Sae's voice is even, if a little rough.

You sob, voice wrecked, back bowing off the bed as you cum. You lose track of time, everything collapsing down to your pulsing core sending out shockwaves through your body. It's so good you can't help the tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, your moans echoing through the room.

Sae is still unnervingly hard when you come to your senses. You squeeze around him, breathless. "Seriously?"

"One more," he murmurs, brushing a kiss to the corner of your eye.

"You're going to kill me," you say flatly. Sae's lips tick up in the corners and he presses another kiss to your cheek.

"You're my wife," he says, like that's an answer.

He rolls his hips again and you sigh. "Missed you," you murmur, because — in spite of yourself — you did. It's been years since he left, but you never forgot the pressure of his shoulder against yours. And the house was filled with things he thought you'd like, but you had nobody to talk to, nobody to needle.

He pisses you off, and you know he needs to pay for what's happened, but you still missed him.

Sae pulls out of you abruptly, leaving you clenching around nothing. "Sae!"

He flips you over without a word, pressing down on the space between your shoulder blades to make your back arch. You let him manhandle you, his hands hard on your hips as he angles them up and presses into you from behind.

"Oh, fuck —" you squeeze your eyes shut at the new angle, stars dancing in your vision. Sae huffs, presses a kiss to your shoulder, and then the headboard creaks and he begins to fuck you.

You're going to die. That's what it feels like — an overwhelming pleasure, dangling you teetering over the edge, your body wound up so tightly it's a minor miracle he can even bully his cock back into you at all.

Sae fucks you hard, with deep steady thrusts that rattle your insides, his cock pushing insistently at that spot inside you that drives every thought out of your brain. The headboard keeps creaking but you can't see why — you can only feel his cock dragging at your walls, your face buried in the pillows as the wet slap of skin on skin echoes in the room.

"Sae, oh — fuck," you gasp. "I'm gonna cum, Sae, oh please I'm so close —"

"Go ahead," he says, and his voice sounds rougher than before. "Let go."

You shoot off the edge with a cry, this orgasm somehow sharper and brighter than the rest. You barely hear it when Sae groans above you, but you feel his cock kick inside you, warmth flooding your insides as he fills the condom with his release.

You have the briefest moment of regret that you didn't get to feel it all inside you before you pass out.

This time, when you wake up the next morning, you find Sae standing at the open window, gilded in sunrise gold.

"You stayed," you whisper. You clear your throat and duck beneath the blanket pulled up to your chin, only peeking out with your eyes. Sae turns to face you, wearing only his briefs.

"I have work to do today," he says, eyeing the lump of your body beneath the blankets. "Are you going to come along?"

You nod, still watching him. He doesn't seem to care, turning back to the open window and giving you a clear view of his side profile, of the dips and ridges of his muscles on full display. His irezumi is stark against his skin, but you can see faint red lines along the swirling ink on his back from where you dug your nails in last night.

It's unfair. He's so hot.

Even with his bangs down, his hair sticking up slightly in the back — he's so attractive it makes you squeeze the blankets in your hands.

"Do you need me to carry you to the bathroom again?" Sae asks, crossing his arms over his chest to look at you. Amusement flickers in his eyes and you snort.

"No, I can walk."

At least, you hope you can. Your muscles still feel weak, like jelly. Sae must have cleaned you up last night, because you're wearing a clean pair of panties, but you can still feel the bruises and soreness lingering along your body.

You roll out of bed and groan, tossing the blankets aside to stretch your arms over your head. It crosses your mind a moment later to be shy, but Sae is your husband, and the way his gaze darkens at the sight of your breasts perking in the chill morning air makes you grin to yourself.

It feels like you've crossed some invisible threshold with Sae. Like the night before was a test, and you passed it, and now things will be different.

You manage to get to the bathroom and sleepily get ready for the day, brushing your teeth and staring at yourself blankly in the mirror. It's only after you've spit your toothpaste into the sink that you realize the marks on your skin aren't a figment of your imagination or a sleepy hallucination.

"What are you, Itoshi-san, a vampire?" you grumble, poking at the hickeys blooming along your neck and grimacing at the ache.

"It's too late for that," Sae says evenly as he enters the bathroom. He meets your gaze in the mirror as he wets his toothbrush. "I'm your husband."

"And husbands get to do this?" you wave your hand vaguely at your marked up skin.

"Itoshi-san," Sae says, pausing with his toothbrush by his mouth. He raises an eyebrow. "That's not what you called me last night."

You blink. What…?

Oh.

Heat floods your body and you take a step back, frowning as Sae begins to brush his teeth. He still manages to look smug and it makes you want to throttle him.

You retreat to the bedroom instead, getting dressed like you're preparing for battle. Sae said business, so you pull on something similar to what he usually wears — a button up shirt and nice pants and a suit jacket.

Sae gets dressed and meets you in the kitchen, where you've gotten started making breakfast. Rice and miso soup and rolled eggs and crispy fish — it's simple fare, but you fidget nervously as you set out the plates, suddenly hyperaware that he'll be trying your cooking for the first time since high school.

"It's good," Sae says, pausing after his first bite. Warmth fills your bones. "Thank you for the meal."

"You weren't worried about poison?" you ask halfheartedly, hoping it'll hide your nerves. Sae raises an eyebrow at you and pointedly gulps down his soup.

"Were you planning on poisoning yourself, too?"

"That would be way too much work," you say before you can stop yourself. Sae snorts and brings his cleared dishes to the sink. "Oh, Itoshi-san, you can leave those. I'll clean them — I'm almost done eating."

Sae just flicks on the sink. "Hurry up, and give me your plates."

You finish eating and hand them over, hovering nearby as you marvel at the vision of Itoshi Sae, yakuza boss, washing breakfast dishes. He wipes off his hands with a towel and turns, catching you before you can escape. His fingers are firm as he purses your lips together.

"Are you going to keep calling me that?"

You can't really talk with him holding your jaw like that. You shrug helplessly instead.

Sae watches you, but his teal eyes are sun warmed and careful. "Do I need to remind you how to say it?"

Heat blooms beneath your cheeks, and you know he can feel it because the corners of his lips twitch. "Are you always going to be this shy?" he adds, tilting your chin up so that you can't escape his gaze. "You'll get eaten up."

You pout. Sae huffs and captures your lips with his own, kissing you breathless until you melt into his arms. "Say it again."

"Sae," you mumble, dazed. You blink up at him and he kisses you again, pushes you back against the counter to press lingering kisses to your lips, your cheek, the edge of your jaw.

"Good girl."

You attempt to gather your wits together as he herds you out the door, but he keeps his hand resting on your lower back. It draws your attention like a magnet.

Luckily, your driver is a different man from the night before, and you settle into your seat with a fluttering heart.

It's finally happening.

You'll see him at work, you'll get a chance to find his records and files, you'll be able to secure the safety of your family.

And you'll watch him beat a man senseless.

The crack of bone meeting bone echoes in the cold, dimly lit room. Sae pulls back, flexes his gloved fist and swipes at a drop of blood on his cheek. "Explain."

His voice is so cold. You repress a shiver and stand firm against the wall, hands tucked into your pockets to hide the trembling. You thought you knew, but —

"You had three chances, you piece of shit," Sae says evenly. "Three chances, and you still fucked up something a monkey could have done. Explain."

"I'm s-sorry, Itoshi-sama! I really thought I —!"

You wince as Sae takes a step back. One of his men jumps in at his nod and launches a punch at the man groveling on the ground. You keep your gaze on your husband, tuning out the sounds of the man getting beaten to a pulp. Sae watches impassively, those teal eyes that had been glowing this morning now cold glacial pools.

"Take him away," Sae orders, finally turning towards you as the man whimpers. He gets dragged out without preamble, and Sae raises an eyebrow as the room empties. "Are you cold?"

"No," you shake your head, holding still as Sae hums and brushes his knuckle along your cheek. "Are you hurt?"

"No," a glimmer of amusement dances in his eyes and you breathe a sigh of relief as the cold teal warms into sunlit ocean. "You still haven't answered me, you know."

You blink. He pulls his gloves off with his teeth and you blink again, face warming at the sight.

"Sae?"

He tilts his head. "Let's go upstairs."

You follow him through the halls of the building, passing men in suits and armed with weapons along the way. In spite of the environment, you feel safe. Everyone bows respectfully as Sae passes with you, and nobody seems surprised to see you.

"What's this?" you ask, wandering into the office. Sae shuts the door and goes over to the heavy wooden bookcase set into the wall.

"This is why I married you."

You stare blankly at the thick ledger book he sets on the desk. He flips open the cover.

Inside is a polaroid photo strip, one you remember — the three of you had just finished exams, and you were itching to do something fun. You dragged the Itoshi brothers into a sticker photo booth and forced them to pose with you, making silly faces while they scowled.

"I thought I lost this," you mumble, fingers lightly tracing your younger faces. "What's this?"

You read the numbers and item descriptions on the next page, and the next, and the next. Sae waits, leaning idly against the desk.

"Sae?"

"What does it look like?"

It looks like — an impossibility. You blink a few times, as if that will clear everything up.

It looks like your family's debts have been wiped clean, little by little, through Sae's work. It looks like Rin's university fees, and also —

"He was targeted?"

Your voice comes out hushed. Sae looks bored. "They accepted me, instead."

"Sae."

"When you proposed, I thought it might be a trick," he says, his voice careful and even. "I was going to say no."

"Why did you say yes?"

Sae looks at you. "Why did you choose me?"

He's right. You could have picked any member of the yakuza to clear your family's debts — you know there were other options, other men who would've been thrilled at a young virgin bride.

"I trust you."

And you do. After all those years, you knew that at least — at the very least — Sae knew you. Yes, you were planning on killing him, but that was just to gain control of his assets. To protect your family.

To do the same thing he had done, all those years ago. He's been protecting you and Rin this entire time.

With the proof in this ledger, it's all over. You have no reason to kill him — and your heart feels light.

"Even after what you saw downstairs?"

"I trust you," you say firmly. "Sae."

"I've murdered people," he says flatly. "I'm not a good man."

"You're my husband."

Sae pauses, and then he shrugs, as if it doesn't really matter. You reach over and pinch his cheek, forcing him to look at you. A glimmer of amusement shines in his eyes, and you laugh.

"Sae," you sigh, releasing his cheek to rub your thumb along the smooth skin instead. There's still a little bit of blood on his cheek, so you wipe at it. "Why did you agree to marry me?"

"You chose me," he says simply. His gaze burns into yours, pulls you into summer ocean memories. "I was never going to let you go if you did."

He tugs you close and kisses you, hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head the way he likes. You sink into the warmth of him, fingers clutching at his shirt, reaching up to tangle in the sunset red of his hair.

Sae pushes you back against the desk and shoves his thigh between your legs, forcing you off balance so that you cling to him. "My wife," he murmurs, breaking the kiss to nip at your neck. You shiver as he sucks gently at the sensitive skin there, core aching at the memory of the night before.

Someone knocks at the door. "Itoshi-sama!"

Sae sighs against your skin. His fingers squeeze your waist once, and then he releases you and steps back. "Back to work."

You hum, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You've been working hard this entire time."

He tugs his gloves back on and nods towards the ledger. "You can stay here to look at it, if you want."

"You never told Rin."

Sae pauses at the door, his hand resting on the handle. "It's better that way."

You wrinkle your nose. "Sae, he hates you."

"Do you?"

You look at him. From this distance, his gaze is sharp, like glass. No longer worn smooth with time and affection — a mask as he prepares to work. "No. I'm your wife."

The air feels fresh and clean and bright, as you step back into your shared bedroom, where everything seems to come undone.

Sae shuts the door behind him and pauses. "You want to redecorate?"

"Yeah," you nod firmly. "This house feels like a showcase. Where's the stuff you like? We need to go on some dates and take photos together. Are you free next weekend?"

Sae comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, his lips resting on your neck as his hair tickles your ear. "I can't go to the beach anymore."

Right. His tattoos.

"Haven't you ever heard of skin cancer? It's important to wear protective shirts with long sleeves."

You think you feel his body shake slightly as he laughs into your skin. "You're really my wife."

"Yeah, and you're going to tell Rin everything, someday," you say. Sae's grip on your waist tightens briefly.

"Anything else?"

"You'll only be with me."

"No mistresses?"

"Only if you actually want to die."

Sae's lips curve against your neck. "Never. I can't die — I need to take care of my wife."

You have a new plan. This one is absolutely foolproof, and there's no chance an annoying childhood friend will sacrifice himself to save you all.

Step 1: fall in love with your husband.

Step 2: get him to fall in love with you.

Step 3: live happily ever after.

It doesn't matter that he's a member of the yakuza. Sae's eyes glow like sea glass, fond and warm, every time he looks at you.

Yeah. The plan will come true. You're already done with step one.

[musetheapothecary]

TAP OUT

♡. sae itoshi has endless stamina, smut mdni

Something i think about is, when sae's running around on the field, this man doesn't even break a sweat, so imagine how crazy his stamina is, especially in bed.

Your legs are shaking.

There’s sweat slicking your thighs, your chest, even the back of your neck—but not on him. Sae’s barely glistening, not even breathing heavy as he grips your waist and thrusts into you like he’s on autopilot. Focused. Precisioned. Calm.

“You tapping out already?” he murmurs, voice low, taunting.

You’re a mess under him—whimpering, twitching, nails clawing at the sheets. It’s the third time tonight. You came once just from him talking you through it. The second time he didn’t even pause—kept fucking you while you sobbed from overstimulation.

"hngg! saee—"

Now?

You can’t even beg. You just shake your head.

And Sae? He smirks.

“Good girl. knew you’d keep up.”

He leans over, hands pressed flat on either side of your head, thrusts deeper, slower, angled just right to make your toes curl. Your breath catches.

“This isn’t even my limit, baby,” he whispers against your mouth, his eyes half-lidded and cold. “I could do this all night. Could keep you under me ‘til the sun’s up.”

You let out a broken moan and he laughs, breathless—but not tired.

Not even close.

“Mm. I’ll stop when your legs stop working. Deal?”

And then he snaps his hips forward, harder this time— And your body arches so violently it feels like you’ve left the earth.

TL: @samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @silverwings920 @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan @valexqpt @bigclownshoes @rinniewinnie787 @satorella @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @mihyas-dieehefrau @ravenbc @shezuannn @greekyoghurtwithberries

A/n: -

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[musetheapothecary]

i need him btw

[musetheapothecary]

[musetheapothecary]

lads man i think would be the sweetest about all your plushies and pretend to have cute lil conversations with them: sylus.

lads man i think has personal beef with all your plushies and suplexes them out of jealousy when you are not around: rafayel.

[musetheapothecary]

TELOMERES — y. endo

cw: 18+ mdni. blasphemy, allusions to religious iconography(?); endo views reader as something like a god that needs to be worshipped. and he also cries during sex (canon). wc: 600 :P short lil thing.

Endo Yamato is a vessel.

Built with a desire to serve the divine, he is deeply fulfilled by being used to please you. If you never asked, he wouldn’t dare to interfere with something so sacred— never would have thought he deserved to fill you up when your existence beside him is enough to make him feel full.

And yet, so graciously, you let him in. 

It fascinates him– the way your body morphs to eagerly fit him inside you. It almost feels blasphemous; this erotic display of want, need, for him alone? 

Your pussy drools its affection as he pushes himself deeper inside. He brings a crooked finger down to where it drips, pooling on the sheets, distraught at the thought of letting any part of you go without reverence. He’s hesitant when he brings his hand up to his lips, but your eyes meet his in silent permission. His breath catches in his throat before he wraps his lips around the digit, eyes fluttering shut with bliss at the taste of you. 

His heart slams inside his chest, a contrast against the achingly slow roll of his hips— the increasingly wet sounds spurring on his high. 

Endo can’t rip his eyes away from where the two of you connect. He feels at home inside of you, like could he melt into you— merge with you. You greet him with such a warm welcome, sucking him inside so greedily as if he’s everything you need, like a lifeline. He knows he doesn’t deserve to place himself on the same pedestal as you, but the thought makes him feel so warm inside, all flushed cheeks and butterflies because to feel so desired is a dream. 

He takes in a sharp inhale at the all too familiar tingle that shoots up from his heart and settles between his eyes. Warmth stings around his tear ducts and the corners of his vision blur. It irks him not to see you clearly for even a second, and he blinks rapidly, warm tears splattering onto your chest until you’re no longer hazy. A lovesick grin splits across his face— breathy laughs escaping him as tears drip steadily from his cheeks. 

Endo’s bottom lip wobbles in awe when he realizes your eyes are on him too. His hand flies to your face, thumb stroking your cheek like you were the one crying. He pants declarations of your beauty against your lips like a mantra. It’s not that he thinks you need the reminder— not with the way you carry yourself, or take his breath away with every glance— but he is never shy to praise you. 

Against his lips, you whisper so lightly he thinks he could’ve dreamed it. Never in his lifetime could he imagine you’d will him to become a part of you. A lowly vessel like himself, ingrained into something so holy. He has half a mind to deny your request, to tell you spilling inside you is an act of desecration. But who is he to deny you? 

So he rolls his hips the way that makes you arch your back, his tears rolling into the divots of your collarbones and up your neck. You glisten, chest raised to the heavens, lips parted in the shape of pleasure. He feels you coming undone before your sweet voice can manage to ring out, and he rubs gentle circles on your clit in acknowledgment. It’s funny, he thinks, how this is the best he has to give when he is fulfilled simply by your allowance of him in your presence. He weeps, grateful, warm tears splattering once again on the exposed flesh of your chest while he fills you up.

[musetheapothecary]

these panels just proves that a period is not stopping this man from slobbering and suckling on your pussy

[musetheapothecary]

You knew all too well how dangerous it was to cross over the border into Shishitoren territory. You'd heard enough stories from the boys of Furin to know what a terrible, terrible idea it was. But the Furin jacket that you wore was like a protective shield around you, giving you the confidence to push the boundaries— and somehow you didn't think that you would run in to the number two in command, Togame Jou.

Thank you to @zorosprincess for the request. I had a lot of fun writing this one.

Pairing: Togame Jou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, CNC, public sex, exhibitionism, marking, dirty talk, degradation, praise, rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, cumshots, not proofread.

Word Count: 4.2k.

The sun still burns bright as the sky changes from blue to a mix of yellow and orange, casting a majestic glow over the town as it nears sunset. You turn the corner as you step beneath the bridge at the edge of town, wrapping your jacket a little tighter around you as the breeze from the alley licks at your exposed thighs. 

“You lost, little lamb?” You hear a voice as you stand by the illuminated vending machine, turning around to see Togame standing before you. His hands were shoved into his Shishitoren jacket and colourful lenses sat on the bridge of his nose, disguising his true intentions.

“You can’t be wearing those colours on this side.” Togame looked down at the Furin jacket you were wearing over your pretty sundress with disgust, “Your little Furin boyfriend should’a told you that.”

He approached like a lion honing in on its kill, ravenous and desperate to feast as he backed you into a corner like skittish prey. Your back met rough brick as he towered over you, sandals clinking against the uneven cobbles before he leaned down to catch your gaze. 

Everyone knew if Furin stepped onto Shishitoren territory they were fair game— and that rule extended to you too. 

“You know about the pact, sweetheart.” He murmured, warm breath fanning against your face as you looked up at him like a terrified sheep who had just walked into a lion’s den.

“So I’ll just be going then.” You tried to steady your words like Kaji had taught you, so no one would know that you were scared. But how couldn’t you be frightened as Togame Jou gazed down at you through tinted sunglasses as though he wanted to devour you whole.

With confidence in your actions, you decided to move, sweaty palms pushed yourself away from the wall as you began to make your leave. Slipping around Togame as you tried to speed up, pretty sandals sounding against stone, but it was no match for him. 

“Hey, hey,” He reached out to stop you, a muscular arm weaving around your shoulders as he pulled you towards him. Your back pressed firm against his chest as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, “What’s the rush, sweetheart?” 

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the saccharine scent of you as he tightened his grip with silent possession, “You already broke the rule, and it's not like you can take it back. So we might as well make the most of it hm?”

He reached up with his free hand to grab your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head in his direction as his lips hovered over yours. His warm breath stroked your skin as you found yourself leaning into his touch. 

“And it’s not like I can just send you on your way back without punishment—” He cooed, “What kind of image would that set for your little Furin boys.”

Togame squeezed your cheeks together as your lips curled into a pout, leaning forward to press an uncharacteristically soft, lingering kiss against them. He spoke so slowly, and articulately it had your cunt betraying your mind as your hole clenched around nothing.

“I think I’ll have to make an example of you,” Togame continued, one of his large palms moved to cup your breast beneath the pretty sundress you were wearing. Moulding it beneath splayed fingers as he dipped into the plush of it, dragging a pretty whine from between your parted lips, “So they all know not to mess with Shisitoren.”

The thin strip of no man’s land between Shishitoren and Furin turf seemed to be the only safe place for miles, and yet somehow you’d decided to slip a toe over the line to find yourself being looked at as prey.

“You understand, don’t you sweetheart?” He continued, hands bunched into his jacket pockets as he sauntered closer. The clack of his sandals against the ground echoed through the air, “It ain’t personal.”

You found it hard to believe. The gang warfare between Shishitoren and Furin seemed to be deep-rooted in hatred, woven from years of deflecting members and infiltration. The latter had built huge distrust on both sides, and it wasn’t peculiar for Togame to think that Furin might stoop as low as sending in a pretty piece of skirt to try and bridge the divide. 

“So, I’ll just be leaving then.” You watched as he pulled his sunglasses up to settle on top of his messy black hair, revealing emerald eyes that helped you try to gauge his reaction as you watched his cheeks curl into a grin. 

“Ah, now you see I can’t let you do that,” Togame tutted, “You ain’t supposed to be on this side of town, so you can’t just say sorry and be on your way—”

“I’ll go back to the right side,” You smiled, “No one needs to know.”

“But what if you get lost leavin'?” He sneered, his chapped lips grazing the shell of your ear as you felt your breath hitch in your throat, “Ain’t no telling what kinda sick, nasty creeps could be out looking for a pretty little Furin princess.”

“It’s lucky I found you, huh? If it had been Choji it would've been way worse,” He cooed leaning down towards you, “Although, I guess that could make you think it’s okay—”

“Please,” You whimpered when you felt his hands slip lower, dragging down from your hips to smooth over your skirt, fingertips dancing beneath the hem as he brushed the naked skin on your thighs, “No one needs to know.”

“You gonna keep this our dirty little secret?” He snorted, dragging his knuckles along your inner thighs as your skirt began to bunch at his wrists, almost leaving you exposed you decided to follow pure instinct as you moved to leave, "You know I can't let you do that— because where would we be without rules?"

Your body jerked to the side to try and slip beneath his arms, but Togame was quicker. There was a reason that Choji had picked him as his number two in command, and it wasn’t just the fact that they were friends. He was a fierce fighter, with sharp reflexes, his hands were quick to subdue you. Curling around your middle as he pulled you back towards him, forcing your chest against the wall as you thrashed in his arms, teeth bared as he pressed his cheek against yours and your face smashed against the wall. 

“Now where do you think you’re going?” He sneered, “I thought we were getting along.”

You gasped as he pressed the full length of his body against yours, his bulge pressed against the small of your back as he nuzzled your cheek. 

“I was being so nice considering you’re the one breaking the rules.” Togame sighed wistfully, “And you had to go and ruin it.”

He was far rougher this time, his hands sliding down your body to hike your skirt up around your waist. The sudden movement had your breath hitching in your throat as you felt the cool evening air hit your exposed skin.

“You always wear these slutty panties, sweetheart?” He scoffed, “I bet this is the real reason you crossed into our territory huh?”

“W-what?” You gasped in shock at the insinuation, eyes wide. 

“You wanted this to happen, didn’t you?” 

“No, I would never,” You choked back a sob, feeling it lodge at the back of your throat as you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to spill from your waterline, "It was an accident, I promise."

Togame’s fingers slipped between your thighs to stroke against the satin, gliding across the fabric as he pressed against your crotch. His lips curled into a satisfied grin at how wet you felt beneath his fingers, pressing down on your slit as he felt you writhe into his touch as your body sought more friction. 

“You’re awful wet for someone begging to leave.” Togame grins as the calloused pads of his fingers brush through your folds, feeling your wetness stick to his fingers as he deliberately strokes against your clit. The sudden movement has your hips jerking roughly as you accidentally press yourself against the bulge beneath his sweats, "You sure it was an accident?"

He’s rough when he curls his fingers in your panties, tugging them down your hips as they begin to fall when they reach your knees, exposing your slit completely as he holds a cheek to spread you open for him, whistling lowly as he takes in just how wet and puffy you are for him. 

“Furin girls really have got such pretty pussies, huh?” He coos, his tone steeped in jealousy, “No wonder they’re all so protective of you."

You hear Togame shuffle behind you as he eases his sweats down just enough to free his aching cock, the length hot and heavy in his palm as he gives himself a solid pump. Twisting his palm over the head to smear his pre along it before taking hold at the base, easing his hips forward as he brushes the swollen tip through your messy folds. 

He groaned when he felt the blunt head collide with your fluttering entrance, catching against it before pulling back. Almost slipping inside over and over as you found yourself spreading your thighs further apart to give him more space, pressing yourself back on his cock as you coaxed him in.

“Fuck,” Togame groaned as he rut his hips forward, feeling your cunt pulse against him as his swollen tip nudged your clit instead, causing you to cry out as you flailed against him in a debauched mess for him. 

His grip on your ass became harsher as his calloused fingers made the supple flesh divot beneath them, prising you open for him as he leaned back to direct himself inside your velvety walls. Groaning at the way your cunt immediately began to throb and clench around him when he met the first ring of muscle as you tried to pull him deeper, feeling the ache of the stretch begin to flow through you. Your body betrayed you as your cunt drooled with slick, more than wet enough to take every inch of him with minimal prep as he felt you engulf him. 

“Actin’ real slutty for someone that doesn’t want it.” He cooed, giving an experimental rut of his hips as your cunt eagerly took more of him in, your warmth engulfing him whole as he bottomed out. His heady balls were snug against your clit as he stilled for a moment to cherish the way your walls squeezed him, accommodating to his size as you whimpered softly. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.” Togame drawled as he began to pull himself from your heat, unsheathing his cock as he shamelessly looked down to see the messy sheen you’d left against him, “Takin’ me so well.”

You don’t expect him to be so rough when he properly thrusts inside you for the first time, stealing the air from your lungs as he gives you everything with a husky grunt. Forcing your body harder against the rough brick as you cry out, louder than intended as his lips graze your ear. 

“Better be quiet unless you want someone to hear,” He sneers, chuckling when you do the opposite when he gives another harsh thrust, “Is that so? You want people to hear you being fucked on Shishitoren cock? What would Umemiya say?”

Your face scrapes against the brick from the ferocity of his movements, before you have a chance to brace your hands to prevent it. But the pain is surpassed by the way his cock bullies its way deeper, his blunt tip carving you into the shape of him while he presses himself deep against your cervix. 

Togame makes it difficult to think, as all you can do is stand there and take everything he forces upon you as he maintains a deliberately slow, rough pace. As though you’re not both standing out in the open— where anyone could happen upon you and catch you in such a precarious position and the thought has your cunt clenching deliberately around his cock as you try to decide whether that would make things better or worse. 

“Oh?” He feels the pressure as his lips press against the shell of your ear, “You like that, huh? You like being fucked by Shishitoren cock?” 

You found yourself submitting to him, resigning control as you let all the pent-up tension that had ebbed away at you go. The incessant pleasure coursing through your veins was beginning to consume you whole as Togame pulled the reigns, watching as you allowed yourself to give into your most sinful desires. 

“Bet those Furin boys don’t make you feel this good, do they?” He continues driving his hips forward, the crude sound of skin against skin echoing in the desolate alley, “Gonna have you wandering back into ‘toren territory more often.”

Togame felt your body begin to shake from the pleasure that sought to consume you whole, his tongue stroked against the shell of your ear as he smoothed his palms along your sides. Moving forward as he changed the angle slightly before pressing his lips to your parted ones, your jaw hanging open as silent gasps racked through your body. Your head moving in tandem with his thrusts as he fucked into you hard.

"You gonna tell me who's jacket this is, or do I have to keep guessing?" There was a fierce snarl behind his tone that sent shockwaves directly to your clit.

You couldn’t speak, even if you had wanted to. The only sounds that left your lips were debauched whimpers and whines as he used you for his pleasure. Hot, wet tears began to prickle at your waterline. Clumping into your thick lashes before trickling down your cheeks, leaving messy lines of mascara in their wake.

“Aww, you cryin’?” Togame cooed, but there was no sincerity in his tone as he nosed one of the tear stains that marked your cheeks.

“I wonder what they’d say if they found out their pretty little Furin girl was being split open on my cock?” Togame pressed, his hand slipping around your body to press against the top of your mound, slender fingers seeking out your puffy clit, “You gonna tell them how much you liked it?” 

“Answer me.”

“I— W-what?” You’re breathless, trying to remember the basic human need to function as he drives into you with precision, his hips knock persistently against the swell of your ass and certain to leave bruises as you bite back another whine. 

“You gonna let Sakura know what his pretty little princess was doing on Shishitoren turf?”

“No— I wouldn’t, I won’t—”

“What do you think they’ll say when I send you back to Furin fucked into the shape of my cock with my cum spilling down your thighs?” He snorted, “And you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

You mewled at his question, your cunt answering for you as it clenched around him hard. The sensation had Togame grinning against your cheek as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin, keeping his rough pace as all you could do was stand there and take it. Your thighs shook from the awkward position as they threatened to give way, not that it would matter when you were pinned between the wall and Togame, completely at his mercy. 

He made it difficult to think, consumed with pleasure as Togame fucked himself into your pliant hole. Battering your insides with each churn of his hips that drew more sultry noises from the back of your throat. Reaching one of his palms up to press it against your mouth as his lips moved back to press against your ear, feeling the same smug grin on his face as he tried to silence you. 

“As much as I love all the pretty sounds you’re makin’ sweetheart, I ain’t someone who shares.” His voice held a predatory husk as he began to curl his hips, deliberately dragging the underside of his cock against the same spot inside you that would have you coming undone hard and fast as he sought to feel you cum on his cock, “Keep it down.”

You couldn’t, even if you tried. The thought of being caught horrified you, but the feeling of his cock dragging against your velvety walls so deliciously has you lightheaded, making it impossible to think as all you could do was stand there and take everything he had to give.

It was embarrassing how much you were enjoying this. Practically humiliated as you let the second in command of Shishitoren use you how he pleased, your body responding to him as your cunt continued to drool around his cock. Leaving creamy rings of slick around the base of him that matted into his pubic hair and smeared against your ass with every thrust. 

Togame reached up to palm one of your tits above your sundress, kneading the supple skin as you cried out for him. Smirking at your reaction as he pushed the material down before watching your tits spill free, grabbing a handful as his fingers dipped into the plush of them. Leaning down to mouth at your neck, biting at the supple skin just beneath your pulse point before sucking hard, fully intent on leaving his mark. 

“Don’t leave any marks.” You whimpered, feeling his fingers twist your taut nipples as you cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. 

“I think it might be too late for that—” Exhaling in satisfaction when he pulled back to admire his work, a dark patch beginning to bloom against your skin as he nosed the back of your ear, “They’ll all get to see what a slut you are.”

You tried to splay your hands against the brick wall to stop your face from grazing the rough cobble as your forehead knocked against it with the change of position. Causing Togame to groan behind you when he felt you push back against his cock, moving his hands up to squeeze your hips as he bent his knees for more leverage. Pushing himself into you over and over again, making you cry out for him. 

“Come on, pretty girl,” He cooed, “I know you’re close. I can feel you.” 

He was right, you were. The coil inside you was so tight it was almost painful, the pent-up tension hot and heavy as the dam inside you threatened to burst. Catching you off guard as Togame slid a hand between the apex of your thighs to search for your needy clit, catching it between his index and middle fingers as he began to swirl it from side to side as you dangled on the precipice of your climax. 

“Wanna feel you cum all over my cock.” He urged you, deliberately focusing his thrusts on the same spot that had you clenching around him, fingers working your clit as you whimpered, “Come on, show me how pretty you look when you’re creaming.”

It was all too much, too intense as your eyes rolled back into your skull. Your lips smeared gloss against his palm as you cried out in pleasure as you found your end, coming undone as your cunt began to convulse around him. 

“Oh fuck, good girl—” He grunted, continuing to fuck you through your climax as he felt your walls desperately trying to milk him of his release. 

You couldn’t control your body as your legs began to shake, drool spilt from your lips and into Togame’s palm as he pressed your head back against his shoulder. Bouncing you on his cock as he used you for his own pleasure, his fingers still persistent on your abused clit as you tried to fight the feeling of another climax being stolen from you as Togame was unrelenting. 

“God, you’re a fuckin’ mess, sweetheart.” He sneered, throwing his head back in a laugh as he forced you down on his cock. 

Your tits bounced with each sloppy movement as he used you for his own need, your mind completely shrouded by debauched pleasure as Togame worked you towards another orgasm. 

“You got tighter when you came,” Togame mused, his lips brushing your neck as he bent his legs to change the angle of his thrusts. 

His voice was like the sweetest ambrosia as it sent shockwaves directly to your needy clit, reaching your hand down to press messy circles against it to try and alleviate the tension that knotted in your pelvis. 

“You greedy thing,” He scoffed, watching as you teased your clit, “I haven’t even cum once and here you are trying to get yourself off again— I guess you really did cross the boundary to get this tight little pussy bred huh?”

Togame spoke so slowly, the soft timber only aided in your pleasure as you felt your body respond to the sound. Clenching around him in a feeble attempt to steal his spunk as you began to quiver, your second orgasm surging through as your fingers rubbed your clit raw. Desperately trying to chase that same high that had you crying out his name as he pressed a palm to your sternum to stop you from knocking yourself out on the wall. His hand moved higher to stroke along the column of your throat before he splayed a palm over your mouth to quieten the desperate, lewd noises that poured out of you from his movements. 

“Jesus,” He tossed his head back in a laugh, “if I’d known this was what Furin pussy felt like I’d have crossed the boundary myself.” 

Togame barely managed a few more deep languid thrusts before he was spilling his release inside you with a guttural grunt, his heavy balls pumping rope after rope as he filled you with his warm spunk. Groaning as he pulled back suddenly, unsheathing his cock from your greedy hole as he began to fist himself roughly. Jerking out the final few pumps of cum all over the back of the Furin jacket that you were wearing as he painted it with his release. Leaning forward to tap the swollen tip of his cock against the fabric as he coaxed out the final few beads of his cum before dragging his length against it to coat it in your slick too.

It was ruined — like you. 

“That’s it,” He groaned lowly, “My good girl.” 

You let out a desperate whine when you felt Togame pull back, your hands splayed against the wall to keep yourself upright as he unabashedly spread your cheeks open to watch your fluttering walls push some of his spend from deep inside your tight heat. 

“You really are a mess.” He chuckled, letting his thumb swipe through the slick between your thighs before he gathered some of his cum on the pads of his fingers. Scooping it up he pushed it back inside your abused hole, causing you to cry out for him as you felt him press down on that sweet spot inside you. 

“Stop teasing me.” You whined, shimmying your ass back into him, “You made me a mess! The jacket is ruined—”

“Hey,” Togame gave your ass a playful smack, “Shouldn’t have worn it if you didn’t want me to cum all over it, sweetheart. You can take it off now by the way — where did you even get it?” 

You were already still surrounded in the lusty haze of euphoria that you couldn’t even process Togame’s questions, so unused to him talking so much and so quickly after sex as you tried to even out your breathing. 

“I had to find something,” You smiled, turning your head to the side as you leaned towards him to press his lips against your cheek, “I didn’t think I’d be able to convince you to do that.”

“Why because I have such a hard time being mean to you?” He smiled, nosing the apple of your cheek. 

“No,” You snorted, “Because you’re lazy.”

“Wow.” Togame deadpanned, “This lazy guy stayed in perfect character and had you creaming twice and that’s all you’ve got to say?”

“This lazy guy,” You turned to poke him in the chest as Togame took the opportunity to poke one of your exposed breasts in retaliation, “Is gonna have to clean this jacket now.”

“Ain’t no way I can be seen cleaning a Furin jacket, pretty girl.” He scoffed, “Just give it back like that.” 

You gave him a pointed look as you pulled your sundress back up over your breasts, adjusting yourself so you were more presentable before Togame reached out to cup your jaw. Tilting your head slightly he noticed the graze against your cheek from where you’d pressed it against the brick wall.

“Shit, baby— I hurt you?” It was more of a question than a statement, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss against your sore cheek.

“Nah, I liked it.” You smiled at him as you leaned into his touch, reaching out to hold onto the opening of his Shishitoren jacket, “We should do something like this again.”

“Maybe,” He hummed before stealing another kiss, “But first you’re takin’ that jacket off and I’m fucking you in mine.”

[musetheapothecary]

adrenaline.

featuring: Togame Jo x f!reader

contains: fighting, blood, established relationship, public s*x, creampie, Togame is a bit feral

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

word count: 1.4k

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MDNI | 18+ content

Togame Jo is the sleepiest, most relaxed boyfriend you’ve ever had.

You’ve been together for six months and it took you a while to get used to his slower pace, his long drawl, his delayed responses. But now you love it – you love that he gives you a second to think clearly before you speak or lets you breathe before a spiral.

You’re used to seeing him pad around your apartment in nothing but sweatpants, slung low to expose the cut of muscle on his hips. You’ll never get bored of watching him, his sleepy yawns and stretches, the muscles in his back moving hypnotically. And when he climbs back into bed, pressing languid kisses against your lips, his hips stirring as he grinds into you, you know you could happily stay at this pace forever.

It takes another two months before you see a different side to Togame.

You’re walking home hand-in-hand from the cinema. It was a late showing and most of the street is crowded with boisterous party-goers, drunk men standing in clumps outside of the pubs and bars.

It used to make you nervous, walking this late at night, but Togame’s large presence next to you is reassuring. You know he’s second-in-command at Shishitoren so the rational side of your brain assumes he knows how to fight, how to defend himself and other people. But it’s at odds with the Togame you know, who wears a lazy grin and takes an additional five seconds to register a sentence. So you clutch his hand a little tighter.

A group of men stare at you as you walk past. You can feel their eyes like lasers on you, despite keeping your own gaze firmly ahead. They’re not Shishitoren, not wearing the signature yellow jackets, so you’re already unsettled by their looks.

Don’t say anything, you chant inside your head, as if they can hear you. Please don’t say anything.

“Hey, sexy!” one of them calls, his friends laughing and whistling.

You grimace, stepping closer to Togame.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!” he calls again and some of the others join in.

“We just wanna talk, baby!”

“Leave that scrub behind and come over here!”

You try to keep walking, keep ignoring them, but Togame stops still. When you look up at him, the smile you know so well is gone from his face. He’s staring back at the men with hard green eyes, his jaw set, as they continue to catcall.

“Jo…”

Togame looks back down at you, his face softening. He points at a nearby alleyway, empty of people.

“Go wait over there for me, sweetheart,” he says. “You don’t need to see.”

You nervously glance between him and the group of men. There’s at least six of them.

“Will you be okay?” you ask, gripping his hand. He gives you a grin, a sliver of the old Togame returning.

“Yeah,” he says and his voice is solid.

With a last squeeze of his hand, you scurry over to the alleyway. Even as you hurry away, you hear one of the men laugh, “What’re you gonna do against six of-”. He’s cut off by a sickening crunch. You turn into the alleyway, eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard.

You’re too scared to look but all you can hear is a symphony of yelps and cries, “oof!” and “aah!” and the sound of glass breaking. You only chance a peek when you hear the scuffle of several feet and see the group of men running away, screaming.

Your mouth drops open to see Togame standing there, not even out of breath.

“Jo…?” you squeak.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He crosses the street to meet you in the alleyway, pulling you deeper inside. “It’s okay.”

Togame reaches out for you and you see the blood on his knuckles, the skin torn away. You suck in a breath at the sight of it and Togame tips his hands, facing them palm up so you don’t have to see.

Your eyes meet his. There’s a mark high on his cheekbone where someone landed a hit but he’s otherwise untouched. You breathe out a sigh of relief and step into his arms.

Togame wraps you in a bear hug, his hand cradling the back of your head.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he whispers. “I’ll always be okay.”

You pull back slightly to look at him. Now you’re closer, you can see the set of his jaw and the look in his eyes. His pupils are blown out and there’s something about him that looks… intense.

Togame dips his head to kiss you and it’s not his usual lazy pace. This time he kisses you hard, his tongue invading your mouth and his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. He hugs you tighter, holding you flush to his body, and it’s then you feel the bulge he’s harbouring.

Togame pulls you deeper into the alleyway, into the shadows, and presses you against the wall. He’s breathing hard, his hands grabbing at you, pushing under your skirt to tug your panties down.

You’re pretty sure no one can see you here, cloaked in darkness, but you can hear the buzz of the crowd only a few feet away. It doesn’t seem to bother Togame who’s already grabbing your thigh to lift it, spreading your legs.

“Jo?” Your voice is tentative, unsure, but when Togame dips his fingers between your folds, he finds you already slick.

“I need this,” he breathes. “I need you.”

As soon as you nod, Togame starts sucking rough kisses against your neck. His movements are frantic, desperate, as he tugs his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. You only have a second to feel his fat mushroom tip nudging past your lips before he presses inside you, stretching your ill-prepped hole.

You cry out and Togame claps a hand over your mouth, silencing you. His other hand is under your ass, holding you up as he slides deeper inside you. He wastes no time, not giving you a moment to adjust before he starts to pump in and out of you.

“Stay quiet for me, baby, okay?” he says hoarsely in your ear.

You nod and he lets his hand fall away from your face, pressing his lips against yours instead. His cock drags against yours walls so deliciously and every slam sends a jolt from your clit through your body. You gasp into his mouth to stop from moaning.

Togame tips his head back, eyes closed and face twisted in pleasure. You feel so hot, so wet, so fucking good. He likes to take his time with you, to savour you properly, but not right now. Right now, he needs to fuck, needs to take you hard and fast and dirty.

Adrenaline courses through his veins from the fight and he takes it out on your pussy.

Feral, you think as he tips forward to grunt against your neck. Animalistic.

His cock rubs against all the right spots inside you. That, combined with being forced to stay quiet and the ruckus of the public only feet away, fills you with a thrill. Togame is taking you, needing you so badly he can’t wait for home. He needs you now. The thought only urges you towards an orgasm, your walls clamping down around him.

“That’s it, baby, milk my cock,” Togame groans as he feels your slick pussy squeeze him. “Take my load like a good girl, yeah?”

You whimper quietly, holding tight onto Togame to stop from crying out as a wave of pleasure consumes you. Your thighs tighten around him, your forehead on his shoulder as you cream silently on his cock.

Togame’s movements start to stutter, his breathing turning ragged in your ear. He bites his bottom lip so hard he tastes blood, burying his cock in you. You feel him cum, a hot, sticky flood inside you as Togame grunts softly. He gives a few more shallow pumps before pulling free.

Togame lets his head fall forward on your shoulder, breathing hard.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I just really needed that.”

“It’s okay, Jo.” You press soft kisses against his temple. “I didn’t mind.”

Togame gives you his usual grin, his eyes soft again. You reach up to kiss him, feeling his languid pace return.

“But,” you say, matching his grin. “I might start hanging around after your fights more often.”

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[musetheapothecary]

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ HANDS ON | wind breaker headcanons

⋆୨୧˚ WITH: umemiya ; togame ; sakura

⋆୨୧˚ SUMMARY: which place they like to touch the most!

⋆୨୧˚ MATURE CONTENT WARNINGS:

fem reader, bit of size kink, lots of praise, pet names [sweet thing, baby, 'pretty'], mentions of bondage/restraint, oral [m. receive], dry humping, nipple play, creampie, MDNI

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ UMEMIYA

umemiya wasn't too particular with any one place on your body - not for a while at least. he'd try different positions, focusing on how tightly you enclosed around him when he angled different ways. he was determined to find the best one, to have your pussy squeezing him tight and your frame shuddering in ecstasy. all it took was one time in doggy, and he was fucking hooked.

your knees dig into the mattress, chest pushed against the sheets as you peek back at a turned on, panting umemiya. his big hands find your hips, playing with the plushness of it all as he lets his cock slip in ever-so-slowly. a languid groan leaves his lips as he curls over you, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses along your spine. "that's it... fuck- squeeze me more."

"too big, 'miya," you murmur between panted heaves, body rocking each time his hips rut forwards. each purposefully angled thrust hits a spot that feels like heaven, and all you can do is moan and whimper between mumbled curses. "g-god, feels so good- fuck."

"oh, i know, i know," umemiya coos under his breath, his voice low against your cheek as he picks up the pace, fucking deep into the hilt of your cunt. his hands wander back to your hips, enticed with the way they move along with the rock of his body against you. "keep takin' it like this, yeah. knew you could do it, sweet thing. look at me, just keep lookin' at me..."

it's not long before his muttered praises and heavy ruts have you reeling over the edge, with him not far behind. he shudders and digs his fingers into your hips, panting hard before his body tenses up. with a low grunt, ropes of white spill between your walls and it makes you shudder. umemiya mutters between a chuckle, "oh, shit... think i found a new favorite way to fuck you."

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ TOGAME

togame has a bit of an affinity for control, so he enjoys things like restraining your hands, or making you take agonizingly slow ruts until you're begging for him to speed up. but above all, there's something he just loves about your lips, your mouth, the softness of your tongue... it entices him like none other.

"that's it, just like that. suck it, yeahh," togame sneers as he watches the way your head bobs and your hands pump and twist and glide against him so sophisticatedly. he can't help the little smile on his face as he sees you look up into his eyes, little tears pricking at your waterline. his hand brushes against your hair gently, "c'mon, i know you got more for me. show me how nasty you can be..."

togame lifts your chin, letting you breathe as saliva and pre-cum coats your lips. his cock throbs as he slides his thumb over your bottom lip, all before slipping it into your mouth to feel the slickness of your tongue. he murmurs a little 'fuck, so wet' through an enticed gaze as he feels it languidly, then lowers your mouth back onto the head of his cock.

"show me what you can do with that pretty tongue," togame rasps lowly, enamored by the way you start to swirl it around the head of his cock, then suck tantalizingly. his chest rises and falls quickly, little twitches jolting here and there as he feels himself building up. it only takes a few more pumps of your fist and tongue dragging along the shaft before he's letting out hitched grunts.

"fuck- me, baby," he groans out between a chuckle, rutting his hips slowly into your mouth as he flits his hands on your hair. with a low shuddered moan, his hips rock up into your mouth and hot ribbons smother your tongue in a tangled mess. he slips his cock out, mouth agape and panting as he watches you swallow it all. he takes no time before leaning in to kiss you, muttering, "now it's my turn to use my tongue."

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ SAKURA

sakura has always been obsessed with your tits, it's clearly been a favorite for him for a long time. you'll be snuggling and his hand quickly finds its place on your chest, and he can't help but squeeze here and there. he loves any possible position where he can see or touch your breasts as much as he wants.

"so fuckin' hot, god," sakura grunts out as he grinds his clothed cock against you, clad in nothing but boxers. you can tell he's pent up by the way he's breathing so heavily, his hands wandering your body in wanton need. he quickly slips up your shirt, his palms finding your breasts as he ruts his hips on you a little harder. "so hot, baby, yeah, they're all mine."

“little more,” you murmur desperately as he ruts along your clit above your shorts, feeling his thumbs shift towards your exposed nipples to circle and feel them in irrevocable intensity. every little grind of his hips and shift of his fingers leaves you a shuddering mess, and sakura can’t help but think it’s just the hottest thing ever.

“so cute when you do that lil' shaky thing," sakura mutters between a small sneer as he rocks his hips a little harder this time, shifting downwards to press open-mouthed, eager kisses along your chest. his tongue replaces his hand, circling around your nipple and letting out a little enticed groan every time he feels you shiver from it. "fuck- wanna cum while i'm kissing these pretty tits."

with quick, panting breaths and a feverish slew of kisses on your chest, sakura shudders and moans as he spills a load of white into his boxers - and he can't help but think. maybe he'll ask if he can fuck between your tits next time.

2024 SAETOSHIS. do not copy/repost.

[musetheapothecary]

Hi rye congrats on 1k! Can i have slice one with togame jo (windbreaker), nsfw prompt no 18? Tq in advance 💘

→ EVENT OVERVIEW

prompt: 18 - “you’re such a mess.” characters: togame jo (wbk) x afab!reader contents: nsfw mdni !! unprotected p in v, implied multiple orgasms, slight manhandling, tummy bulge, creampie, a bit of size kink, some pussy inspecting? mention of cum eating, petnames (baby & sweetheart), reader is physically smaller wc ~ 700

a/n: thank you sm for participating anon! <3 finally got around to start writing my event requests TwT as i’ve said before, updates are gonna be super slow bcs uni is still kicking my ass so take note of that !! first time writing for togame btw erm

“c’mon, y/n. you’re still with me?”

glassy-eyed and lightheaded, you feel the room spins as if in slow motion. literally and figuratively.

one second you were on your knees and cheek pressed onto the sheets, and the next your view suddenly changed to that of the ceiling. a pair of hands slides up from your waist to cradle your face, thumbs rubbing soft circles on the apple of your cheeks.

togame leans in, connecting your foreheads together before he gives you a small kiss. your lips easily meld together as you hum against him, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

his emerald gaze, his lips, his hands. everything about them feels delicate whenever they fall on you, as gentle as the leaves rustling in the wind, and soft in the way his warmth envelopes you like a pile of heated blankets on a cold winter night.

you’d almost cried at how wholesome his attention is, and how fulfilling his love is becoming. almost, if not for the way his hips rolls so hard into you that you’re starting to sob for an entirely different reason.

togame is by no means average-sized. barely halfway in and he’s already stretching you to the max, pressing in so deeply and ever so slightly in a tilted way that his cock curves perfectly upwards inside your sopping cunt. every single inch of him hits all the sweet spots inside you just right, sparks of pleasure bursting behind your eyelids as wanton moans escape from your mouth.

he eventually sets a rapid pace, his movement fluid and steady as the blunt tip of his cock starts to repeatedly hit the deepest part of your core. “that’s it, baby. you’re taking me so well,” he purrs in your ear, causing you to whine in response.

“f-fuck, ‘s so big,” you clench around his generous length as wet squelching sounds of your pussy echo in the room, skin slapping against skin as your cries and his grunts stringing together like a dirty symphony.

togame slips a hand behind your neck then, pulling you up for another kiss before he holds you there, heads leaning against each other to make you notice, to make you see what he’s doing to you.

you don’t realize it at first, too lost in the feeling of his cock dragging oh so deliciously in between your velvety walls. but when you finally get a good look at it, you’d nearly come right on the spot.

there’s a thick creamy ring around the base of his cock, courtesy of the previous rounds you’d had and how much he’d been cumming inside you, and when he drives himself home again inside your wet heat with that same crazy depth, same crazy angle, your stomach bulges with every thrust.

“shh, just feel me here, sweetheart,” he coos before his hand grabs one of yours, dwarfing it entirely before settling them both together on your lower belly, right where his thick cock continues to make that little bump on the skin.

it makes you dizzy, so freaking turned on and almost delirious at the sight as togame slams deeper into you. “jo… g-gonna cum - fuck,” tears blur your vision, your whimpers growing louder by the second when his other hand grips tighter on the back of your thigh.

“yeah? you like feeling yourself when you’re getting fucked like this, hm?” he presses down harder on your stomach with just the right amount of pressure and before you know it you’re already cumming so hard, your cunt squeezing and gushing around his dick as your breath gets knocked out of your lungs in a broken cry of his name.

he follows behind soon after, reaching his peak with a low groan of his own as you heavily pant from the exertion. running a hand through his sweaty onyx strands, togame briefly glances down at where the two of you are still connected and gradually pulls out, ignoring your slurred complaints about the sudden loss of warmth.

he curses under his breath, “fuck, baby. you’re such a mess.”

you’re sweating all over, hair disheveled on the pillow beneath your head as pearls of tears line the lashes of your eyes. his cum and yours fill your tight hole to the brim, the mixed liquids leaking past your pussy lips and trickling down your inner thigh when togame hooks a thumb on the side of your wet folds.

he inhales sharply, eyes focusing on the obscene view before he looks back at your fucked out expression with that heavily lidded gaze again.

“mind if i have a taste?”

am i starting off too strong with this one 🧍 anw ‘big dick togame🗣️’ the crowd (me) cheers

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[musetheapothecary]

— for you

Based on this gorgeous art that I still can’t stop thinking about by @rabbbitseason. You’re single-handedly feeding Togame nation, lovely. Please don’t stop💕

Pairing: Togame Jou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, dirty talk, blowjob, cum swallowing, not proofread soz.

Word Count: 2.2k.

The Shishitoren jacket should have worked as a vibrant yellow strip of warning tape wrapped around you, paired with red flashing lights to alert anyone in the vicinity to danger. Keeping you out of trouble as you sat on one of the high tables with your girlfriends as Togame lingered not too far behind, sitting beside Choji in a booth as he kept one eye on you across the room. 

Stealing glances at him between your conversation as you’d wave over at him as though you’d just seen each other for the first time, Togame doing the same as he tipped his glass towards you. He’d give it at least another thirty minutes before you were making your way back over to him to plant yourself on his lap, legs draped over his thighs to lean your body against his. 

But apparently the jacket alone wasn’t enough.

Just as you raised your drink to take a sip through the straw, you were caught off guard by a guy inviting himself into your circle and intruding on the conversation. Shifting in your seat as you pulled Togame’s Shishitoren jacket a little tighter around your frame when you felt the guy try to steal a glance down your top, irritated that he was blocking your line of sight so you couldn’t signal across the room to Togame or Choji that he was being a bother. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” 

“I’m not interested.” You purse your lips, holding back the insult that sits on the tip of your tongue as he takes a step closer.

“Why not? It’s just a drink—”

“My boyfriend already bought me a drink, thanks.” You reached across the table to sip it for emphasis, wondering if Togame would buy you another if this one ended up all over this guy. 

“Boyfriend?” The guy scoffed, “Then where is he—”

But this guy must have been either very drunk, or very stupid when he chose to approach you. A cocky, confident smile on his face as he slung an arm around the back of your chair, leaning close so you could smell the liquor on his tongue as he tried to introduce himself. Asking to buy you a drink as you shifted back, feeling his hand press against your side, dangerously close to the curve of your breast. 

And before you had a chance to tell him to fuck off or throw your drink all over him, your boyfriend stepped up behind him. Reaching out to grasp the wrist of the hand that was touching you as his green eyes darkened menacingly. 

“Did no one ever tell you not to touch things that don’t belong to you?” Togame glared before his features softened when he turned to face you, “Is this guy bothering you, baby?”

But he already knew the answer. With the way the guy had been touching you, he’d be lucky to get out alive. Swinging a fist as he made contact with the guys nose, a horrid crack sounding over the bustle of the dingy dive bar as he shrieked back in horror.

It hadn’t taken many punches to leave Togame bloody.

Your eyes widened in fear when you looked down at his bruised knuckles, the vibrant crimson glistening against his skin as he assured you that none of it was his. The man’s cheek now bleeding onto his t-shirt as he fled the bar, Togame’s links to Shishitoren were the only reason that you hadn’t been kicked out for fighting as you led him towards one of the back rooms. 

You’d intended to find a first aid kit, much to Togame’s annoyance with the insistence that he was fine. Your entire body felt warm over the blatant display of possession over you, and it had your cunt pulsing around nothing between your thighs at the sight of him like this for you.

“I gotta say, sweetheart,” Togame cooed, “I didn’t think this was how my night would go.” 

He groaned as you pressed hot open-mouthed kisses along the length of his half-hard cock. Circling it with your palm as you followed the forking veins that littered the underside of him, following a map until you met the curve of his balls. Looking up at him with faux innocence you mouthed at the middle of his scrotum.

“Are you complaining?” Your lips curled into a grin as you licked a stripe back up his length, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock as he shuddered under your ministrations. 

“Me? Complain? Never—” Togame groaned when you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip as you began to suck gently. 

“This is what he wishes he had isn’t it, baby?” Togame drawled, “Your lips around his cock.”

You moaned in response, your tongue following the line of a prominent vein that travelled along the underside of his cock. His chest caved at the motion, his shirt pulled up just enough to expose his Adonis belt and the curve of his pelvis. A deep scar settled against his right hip that travelled towards his inner thigh as you reached up to press your palm against it, letting your fingers card through the messy hairs that littered his skin.

“Fuck, baby.” He leaned back in his seat, thighs spread as he watched through half-lidded eyes. His tongue peeking out to wet his lips as another low groan rumbled in his chest, “Prettiest damn mouth there is.”

“Just showing my appreciation.” You murmured around the tip, swiping your tongue against it sloppily before delving deeper.

“That’s why everyone wants you huh?” You keened at his praise, hollowing your cheeks to suck harder as your hand reached up to squeeze his balls, running your thumb along his taint as you drew another desperate moan from his throat. 

Togame really was pretty like this. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, as you got the perfect view of his chiselled jaw, the three-day-old stubble casting a shadow against it as you took a moment to breathe. Pulling back from his cock to press a glossy kiss to the swollen tip of it, gliding the tip of your tongue along his slit to gather the fresh pre that leaked out. 

“Luckiest fuckin’ guy in the world.” He hummed, stroking his thumb against your cheek before moving his hand to the back of your head. Cradling it gently as he let you set the pace, choose the movements as he basked in your attention. 

The metallic tang of blood permeated the air as blood began to dry against his skin, most of it from the guy who had dared so much as glance at what was his. Togame’s rings pierced his skin when he swung, hearing that disgusting crunch when his fists connected with bone and cartilage. 

“I feel pretty lucky now too,” You hummed, pulling his cock from your mouth as you tapped the underside of it on the flat of your tongue, “Had my big, strong boyfriend there to protect me. That was so hot—”

Your words of praise had a deep timber groan rumbling at the back of his throat, eyes rolling back as his cock pulsed hot and heavy beneath your warm palm. You’d coaxed Togame into this back room under the guise of ensuring he wasn’t hurt, despite his insistence that something was perhaps wrong with you. As though the guy had harmed a single hair on your head and this was enough to declare gang warfare. Rolling his eyes when you sat him down on a rickety old chair in the corner before slipping down onto your knees. 

“Fuck, I’ll always protect you,” He rasped as you took him back inside your mouth, rolling your tongue along the length of his cock as the swollen tip hit the back of your throat causing you to gag slightly, “Ain’t that right? Everyone wants my girl.”

Spit began to pool in your throat as you bobbed your head along his length, drooling down your chin and onto his balls as you soaked the front of his sweatpants. Feeling him begin to give slow, shallow thrusts into your mouth as you continued to stroke your tongue around his girth, your fingers squeezing each of his sacs gently as Togame continued to sing your sweet praises. His jacket began to slip from your shoulder as you changed the angle, tilting your head as you leaned forward on your knees to take him even deeper inside your mouth. 

“The fucker should’ve known better.” He leaned forward, shifting position to pull his jacket tighter around your shoulders, “You’re wearing my jacket after all.”

You hummed in response as you looked up at him from under thick lashes, watching his Adam’s apple bob as you sent delicious vibrations through his cock as Togame groaned. Tightening his grip on your head as his fingers weaved through your hair to tug at the root, his knuckles throbbing from earlier impact as the blood began to dry against his skin. 

You pushed forward, feeling the head of his cock hit the back of your mouth as you took him in your throat. Drawing another debauched groan from his chest as he watched your nose pressed into the messy hairs at the base of his cock, feeling a slight pressure on the back of your head as he held yourself down on him until the desire to breathe became too strong. 

Wet tears began to clump in pretty pearls in your lashes, blurring your vision as you tried to blink them away. Your throat started to constrict with the desire for air as your nails pressed half-moons into the muscle of his thigh, feeling Togame’s grip loosen as you pulled back. The wet smack of his cock leaving your lips sounded in the room as silvery lines of spit and pre kept your bodies connected.

“F-uck,” The word rolled off his tongue as you moved your lips to take the entirety of his cock in one go, deliberately palming his balls at the same time as Togame’s grip in your hair tightened. His hips bucked as you drew him closer to the edge of his climax, setting a constant pace as you sucked hard. 

“My pretty baby is so good at sucking cock, huh?” Togame groaned at the debauched sight of you on your knees for him, listening to the lewd sounds that slipped from your mouth as you squeezed your thighs together to try and give your neglected clit some slight relief. 

“Is that poor little pussy feeling left out?” He cooed knowingly, flexing his fingers against the back of your head as his other hand reached out to palm one of your breasts through your top, “Bet those pretty panties are drenched.”

You whined around Togame’s cock at his crude words, feeling the persistent throb between your thighs as you continued your pace, bobbing your head as you rolled your tongue around his head with each upward motion. You could tell he was close from his laboured breathing, his grip on the back of your head almost painful now as his fingers curled into your hair to tug at the root. The sensation had you moaning around him as you moved your hand to jerk the base of his cock to work him towards his release. 

“Oh fuck, baby.” He swallowed thickly, sandals clacking against the floor as he spread his thighs further apart, “That’s it, that’s it—”

You cupped his balls, feeling them begin to tighten in your palm as he teetered on the cusp of his climax. Holding your head down on his length as he found his end, spilling his release into your mouth as you felt hot ropes of cum paint your tongue and splash against the back of your throat. Giving a few sloppy ruts of his hips as he wrapped his hand around yours at the base of his cock. Letting you see his bloodied knuckles as he increased your movements, milking his cock of every drop of spunk he had to give as he rode out his bliss. The heady taste of it settled on your tongue as you made a show of swallowing it all for him before leaning forward to clean the last beads of it against his spent cock.

“I dunno what I ever did in a past life to deserve you, sweetheart.” Togame groaned, chest heaving as he came down from his high, “I must’ve been a real good guy.”

“You’re still a good guy now,” You smiled, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “You always look after me.”

“I’m not sure about that, baby.” Togame stroked his thumb over your glossy lips, catching a stray drop of cum as your tongue instantly slipped out to lick it off the calloused pad. Groaning when you wrapped your lips around it as his spent cock fought to come back to life. Dragging your bottom lip downwards when he pulled back, muttering minx beneath his breath. You leaned into his touch as he cupped your cheek in a warm palm, leaning down to meet your gaze as he sighed, “I think I’m a pretty bad guy.”

Togame closed the distance to bring you into a languid kiss. Not caring that he could taste his release as his tongue pushed past your parted lips, grazing your teeth as it stroked against every crevice.

“But no matter what happens I’ll always be there to protect you.”