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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

jigen daisuke x reader

1.9k words

"Move over."

His voice is gruff but you know that he just sounds like that. He's not angry at you. Actually, you're not sure if Jigen is even capable of being angry with you. All you know is that he's back and you're nothing but happy to see him. Just like every time. You obey, scooting over to the side of the couch as he throws his jacket off onto the cushions.

"Jigen!" You smile as he sits down and you throw your arms around him, practically colliding against his body hard enough to elicit a soft grunt on his end. Your cheek presses to his affectionately and sinks to rest in the crook of his neck as one of his hands goes to steady his hat on his head and the other wraps over your shoulders.

"What, you missed me?" he asks, head against the back of the couch. You can see the slight smile on his face. That makes you feel aglow.

"'Course I did! I miss you every time. It's boring here without you..."

"Don't lie, (Y/N)--I know you just nap around all day when I'm not here."

You fake an outraged gasp. "Only because you're not here! I can't think about how you're not around if I'm sleeping, right?"

You feel Jigen's shoulder shrug against you. "You're gonna fuck with your sleep pattern if you keep it up. Pick up a hobby or somethin'."

"I'm trying! Sometimes I practice darts. I'm gonna beat you one day, just watch me."

Jigen snorts. "Keep dreaming."

You fall a bit quiet, feeling as though something was off about him. Still, you don't move off of him, if anything holding him closer. "You alright?" You ask, a bit quietly.

Jigen simply sighs, readjusting his position on the couch so his head is at the end of it and his legs are stretched towards the opposite side. You move so you're on top of him, head on his chest, breathing in his cologne as you get comfortable. His hand goes to your hair and your eyelashes flutter slightly. The same usual exhaustion that his arrival had banished before was quickly returning to you. Stubbornly, you tried to stay awake for his answer.

"Long day. That's all."

"Where's the others?"

"Lupin and Fujiko are off doing whatever the fuck. Dunno where Goemon went off to. They'll probably be back soon, don't worry."

You giggle. "Trust me, I'm not. I just wanna know how much time I have before you get all mean."

"Whadya mean?" You can feel his fingers tighten a little bit in your hair and still. You swallow a bit nervously. For a moment, you're silent, before you decide to come clean with your concerns. Good relationships have good communication right? If there's a problem you should tell him...

A soft sigh leaves you. "I don't know...you just get kinda...cold, I guess. Like whenever Lupin or Goemon or Fujiko or just anyone are around it's like you don't wanna be near me. And...I guess it stops when we're alone together but that doesn't happen a lot, so..." You trail off, not sure what else to say. Jigen can feel you tense in his arms.

Jigen is quiet for a second or two. You figured he was trying to find the best way to answer without hurting your feelings. "I don't mean to make you feel like that," he eventually tells you. His fingers go back to absentmindedly tangling through your hair and you can't help but stifle a sigh of relief. "I just...don't really like putting on a show, y'know? I like us having privacy. It's nice. If you want someone to stick their hand up your skirt or something in front of everyone, Lupin's gonna be more your guy-"

Your head lifts suddenly with shock, eyes wide. "Jigen!"

He laughs. "Sorry. I like seeing you get all huffy, it's cute." His hand becomes snug against the small of your back, bringing you closer to him. His thumb rubs slow patterns into your skin and your head drops back down again, cheek pressing into his shirt.

One of your hands goes to fidget with his tie as you ignore the heat flooding your face.

"You mind if I nap a little?" he asks, reaching his arms up behind his head in a slow, tired stretch. Guess he wasn't lying about it being a long day for him.

"Not at all. Want me to move?"

He quickly shook his head. "No. Stay here with me." He doesn't say it directly to you much, but you know he misses you just as much as you miss him. He doesn't need to explain that to you.

Jigen stretches out once more and you adjust your own position as well until you're comfortable, higher up on him. Your head nestles under his head, in between his neck and jaw. Either of your hands clasp faintly at the collar of his dress shirt. One of his hands briefly closes around your balled up ones, giving them a slightly squeeze. He pulls them up slightly, dipping his head so he can softly press his lips to the back of your hand. His beard scratches over your wrists as he lets your hands drop again back to his chest.

The gunman reached up, taking his hat from his head. Gently, he brings it to rest over his face and the brim in turns covers your face as well. The darkness it provides is actually surprisingly welcome and you already begin to close your eyes again. That, and the overwhelming scent of the product he used in his hair was extremely soothing and had you falling asleep within minutes.

You didn't know how long you'd been out for this time, but you figured it'd only been a short period. Jigen's hand was gently jostling your shoulder in an attempt to wake you up further. Tiredly, you stretch out over top of him, face rubbing into his neck as you yawned. He takes his hat from your face, fixing it back on his head.

"Wanna move?" He asks, voice rough from waking up. "My neck's getting sore."

Sleepily, you nod. He sits up, pulling you up with him. You shift so you slide off of his lap and stand up. He's at your side, hand reaching for the small of your back. With ease, he guides you down the hall, ignoring your bleary stumbling. You only look up once when approaching his room's door. Your eyes become less foggy as you lean forwards to focus--trying to make out exactly what's been newly taped to the door. Eventually, it becomes clear and you smile.

A picture of you and Jigen cuddling on the couch, your arms wrapped around him, his hand looped over the small of your back while the other hung off the side of the couch--of course with his hat over both of your faces.

Jigen shoulders you gently to the side to get a better look himself. Bent over slightly, he tilted his hat up with the bend of his finger.

He didn't say anything in that exact moment. Instead, his hand went to his gun. With easy familiarity, he switched off the safety. You watched him turn and storm off, in the direction of Lupin's room, muttering something about "putting a bullet in that damn camera". You knew he'd be back soon enough.

Yikes. All right after his little "valuing privacy" speech too.

Still, you turned back to the door. Gently, so you wouldn't tear the polaroid too roughly from the adhesive on the door, you pulled the photo off. You held it in both of your hands, almost a bit too fondly now that Jigen is far out of sight and you don't have to pretend to be angry about the photograph too. Under any other circumstance, you're sure this would have all been super creepy. But knowing it was probably just Lupin who took it, you felt a lot more at ease. No doubt he genuinely thought it was cute and wanted to tease Jigen a little bit.

I hope he doesn't think it's embarrassing, being seen with me by them. That'd be kinda fucked up..."

It's hard to question the state of your relationship with the gunman when you're fawning over the way his arm was wrapped around you in the picture and how closely you held him in return. You bring the picture up at your fingertips, briefly pressing it to your lips before folding it in half and tucking it in your back pocket. You'd think of a place to hide it later. For now, you just wanted to finally get some good quality sleep, instead of another mini nap.

You opened his bedroom door, leaving it open behind you as you entered. You knew he'd be coming back soon.

With a heavy sigh, you collapsed onto his mattress a bit dramatically. You bury your face in the nearest pillow, inhaling his scent once more. God you didn't think there'd ever be a more perfect combination than cologne, cigarette smoke, whiskey, and whatever that certain thing was that made Jigen...well...Jigen. Your fingers curl almost longingly into the pillowcase as your expression softens with oncoming drowsiness.

About five minutes later, Jigen crept in, shutting the door with his heel. His bunched up suit jacket hung from one of his arms as he undid his tie with his free one. Quietly, he tossed both of them off to the side of the mattress, kicking off his shoes as he approached his side of the bed. Slowly, he settles down onto the sheets of his bed, setting his hat onto the top of the lamp on his nightstand.

You seem to sleep easier when his arms wrap around you once more. One of his hands drifted up the backside of your upper thigh, slow over the curve of your ass. As his palm brushed over your back pocket, it suddenly stopped. Jigen put his thumb in your pocket, letting the rest of his fingers rest on you. Upon feeling a papery corner brush over the pad of thumb, Jigen's head lifted a little bit.

Easily, he pulled the paper from your back pocket without waking you. He unfolded it.

The photo.

You'd kept it. He flipped it over between two fingers. Jigen stifled a chuckle. He could see the tint of your chapstick against the picture. After he glanced over the picture once more, he carefully folded it back in half. His hand reached back over your hip, to your back pocket, slipping it back in.

Jigen smiled as you shifted closer, unconsciously, into his chest.

#one shot #lupin iii #jigen daisuke #jigen daisuke x reader

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

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cooperation

koichi zenigata x reader

nsfw

5.2k words

commissioned work

It isn't uncommon to get left behind or captured during a heist. If anything, it's become a normalcy to Lupin and his gang. To any other group, that might be concerning. It might be taken as a sign of carelessness, of incapability and sloppiness. But not to his. Usually things just...work out. That's just how it is for the Lupin gang. Like lady luck owes Lupin a favor. Multiple favors, hundreds or thousands perhaps.

You get left behind, you catch up. You get captured, you escape. Worst case scenario you can't slip the cops and someone has to circle back to lend a hand or a gun or a sword. Usually it doesn't come to that. Lupin and Fujiko are both crafty and much too intelligent to be held for more than a few hours in a cell. Goemon and Jigen usually evade capture in the first place. Their familiarity with brute force seems to be what keeps them on the other side of jail cell bars.

However, you find yourself in aforementioned worst case scenario.

Being new to running with Lupin's group, it was bound to happen eventually. You just hadn't been careful enough. It was one little slip up, but it was dire enough to bring the whole operation crashing down on your heads. You hadn't meant to trigger one of those stupid alarms...How were you supposed to see that one infrared sensor, when you were busy focusing on keeping track of the other four hundred of them? If triggering one of the beams wasn't the nail in your coffin, your poor, delayed reaction time was. Almost the second the alarm sounds, Lupin, Goemon, and Jigen vanish into thin air in what seems like seconds. Without you.

Amazing.

You can't blame them though. They'd warned you that as men who were much more wanted and would instantly be thrown on death row if caught, they'd save themselves first. It's better that way anyways. The more of Lupin's gang out of jail, the more help you'd get. That is if they decided you were worth coming for. You're still fresh meat. You know they don't one hundred percent trust you...

Thus you're left alone when that man, Inspector Zenigata, bursts through the ornate museum doors.

Well not completely alone. At least not yet.

Him and his pesky little lieutenant, Oscar, were already hollering and barking order to high heavens before you could even move an inch. Their priorities are Lupin, of course, so Zenigata passes you over at first. Oscar's the one to actually bring you down when you finally go to make a run for it. He's lean though--that gives you enough confidence to fight back. You can take Oscar, maybe fend him off, get through the crowd of officers in the confusion and escape.

After a few moments of unceremoniously rolling around on the floor, shouting and wrestling your arms out of his grasp, dodging silver cuffs, Zenigata apparently finds the time to step back in.

Lupin's obviously long gone, leaving his laser like focus squarely on you. You feel his dark gaze burning into you before he's even touched you. Still, you manage to land a pretty decent kick in Oscar's gut before Zenigata shoulders him to the side, grabs you by the collar of your suit and hoists you off the ground. Your hands grab at his wrists for support before the inspector slams you up against a nearby marble column, knocking the wind out of you.

"Too late to claim police brutality?" You manage through uneven breaths, with a bit of a grin.

Lupin had taught you that it's possible to slip Zenigata if you frustrate him enough. Zenigata's weakness, one of them at least, is his own temper. It interferes with his focus and work, it makes him stupid, like a bull. Lupin's escaped and simultaneously embarrassed the inspector with well chosen insults and snarky little comments before. Unfortunately, it seems like he's much more callous to it than you imagine, which makes you wonder just how long he's been pursuing Lupin for. He doesn't falter. The look in his eyes doesn't fade, the grip of his hand doesn't lessen or intensify.

"You'll shut your mouth if you know what's good for you," Zenigata warns you, a pair of cuffs already gripped in his other hand. Aggressively, he turns you, shoving you up against the column harder, a brutish, rough hand pressed between your shoulder blades. You turn your face to the side, cheek taking the brunt of the marble. You watch him through the corner of your eye. "At least until I have you in the interrogation room."

You're not afraid. He's...intimidating and you've never been this close to him before, but he's bound by law. He can't hurt you too badly. If they come back for you, Zenigata will only have his hands on for a couple of hours, maybe more tops. A day if they have you under heavy guard. You're banking on them underestimating you, however. If Lupin can't sneak in, Goemon can force his way through whatever walls might be holding you with exceeding ease.

You see those walls eventually, after a long, somewhat awkward ride in the back of a police cruiser. Zenigata wasn't driving. Apparently he didn't deem you to be enough of a threat to stay as close to you as he would to Lupin. You can't tell if you feel smug at his dire underestimation of you, or if you're jealous that he's not paying as much attention to you as he would to a bigger named thief.

The interrogation room itself isn't really...well, it's not like any interrogation room you've been in before, and you've certainly been in plenty. There's no cold, cruel, isolating walls surrounding you on four sides. No one one-sided window spanning across one of the walls. No rusty little metal table with a loop for the chain of your cuffs to be strung through. What you're currently inside of with Zenigata seems more akin to an office. Wood shelves lined with books, a desk you're currently seated at, lamps and a couch...it's much cozier, that's for sure. You wonder if he only became a cop to have an office this fucking sweet.

You watch him from the corner of your eye. He was locking the door. Apparently, he wanted to make sure his lieutenant and the other men stayed out.

Upon seeing the suspicious, wary way you're eyeing him, so different in comparison to the aloof, lazy look that had once masked your face, he holds up his hands. He's still somewhat intimidating, even when he's trying to look harmless. The sort of grit and roughness that lines him doesn't disappear so easy. Not to you at least.

"Thought you'd be more tempted to talk if you didn't have five other officers breathing down your neck."

You choose to ignore him. Divert him instead. He saw your suspicion, and he might suspect more of you because of that. "It's nice in here." Had your hands not been cuffed behind you, you might have tried to put your hands behind your head in a mock stretch. "Roomy. Did you guys get more of a budget or something?" A melodramatic gasp comes from you, as you look up at him from your chair. Your voice drops to an exaggeratedly hushed whisper. "Is this where all of our tax dollars are going?"

Zenigata seems to drop the good cop act he was originally going for. Perfect.

"You think you're cute?" he growls, sitting down with a bit of a huff at his desk. He leans back in his seat, a cigarette between his fingers.

"I'd like to think so," you shoot back. "Not completely sure though. What are your thoughts-"

He cuts you off seamlessly. You've only been here for maybe thirty minutes and apparently you're already trying his nerves. "Stop fucking around." Zenigata lights the cigarette. He seems to let out a smoke laced sigh. "Don't make this more...difficult than it needs to be. Cooperation is highly rewarded here. All you have to do is tell me where Lupin is. Better yet, where he might be headed next."

Because he knows Lupin's always going to be five steps ahead of him...No way I'm telling him the plan. Chances are the rest might have already deviated from it. They can't fully trust me yet. They don't know if I'll buckle and squeal on them...It's less of a risk to not just talk at all. At least for now...

You're loyal, unlike Fujiko. But you're not stupid. You know better than to give to the pressure right away. Maybe that makes you worse than her, for not being a traitor immediately, but instead waiting for the best possible offer to come along. If you're going to betray dangerous men, you might as well at least get something extremely worth it.

It's like Zenigata had watched that entire thought process happen. All from your face, which you were sure you had kept somewhat unreadable. But you'll pretend like he doesn't know what you're thinking. You'll pretend like you don't know that he knows you'll give into his demands if something is offered in exchange that benefits you enough. With that window open, he's already won. But you won't make it an easy win for him.

You lean forwards with a bit of a smile. He watches you, keenly. "Now...inspector," you say, "Why would I ever tell you something like that?"

He cocks an eyebrow, then his head. It's a familiar look.

A bit of a smirk slips onto your face. Why does he reminds you of Lupin? It’s uncanny almost. You recall Lupin once reminiscing about how useful Zenigata could be if only he worked with him. About how much potential he had as a thief working at Lupin's side. He’s not entirely wrong. You sense a sort of fierceness and passion that goes beyond just police work.

But as similar as they were, they'd chosen their paths.

“I could keep you here all night, you know,” Zenigata threatens, cigarette clenched slightly in his mouth.

“You can keep me here for 48 hours, actually,” you say carelessly. “You could do anything you want to me, Mr. Inspector, and I wouldn’t tell you a shred of information.”

"I don't think you want to invite me to an opportunity as tempting as that one."

You lean back in your chair, your face one of petty, disinterested stubbornness. You'll ignore his crudeness. He obviously thinks you're around the same level as easiness as Fujiko...he's not entirely wrong, but you enjoy putting up a fight. Especially when it comes to men like him, so determined to get their way and lead. You know his type. You work with his type. And if he's as much like Lupin as you suspect, what he's looking for as a reaction. You won't give him one. You won't give him the satisfaction.

But unlike Lupin, he isn't impatient. Only a few minutes after your mouth seals to a straight, pursed line, he's leaned back into his chair, getting comfortable. You suddenly regret bringing up the simple fact that it's legal for him to keep you here for those 48 hours. Around hour three, you wish you hadn't spoken to him at all and had just sat in stubborn silence like you'd originally planned to.

What was taking them so long? Why hadn't anyone shown up yet?

You're already exhausted and your head aches. The constant plume of smoke coming from Zenigata, flooding the room doesn't help. It's hard not to start feeling irritation towards the very gang you'd aligned yourself with.

Zenigata seems to sense your shiftiness and your change in mood. He sits up a little straighter, looks at you a little more keenly. And a knowing smile slips onto his face.

Eventually, feeling more and more frustrated under his unrelenting, dark gaze, you roll your eyes.

"Loosen the handcuffs? They're digging in-"

"Just how I like them to be," Zenigata says coldly. "It's what thieves deserve." His intensity suddenly fades a little. "You look better with them on, anyways." He falls back to slump in his seat, taking another long drag off his rapidly shortening cigarette.

You squirm a little in your seat. "Look, uncuff me and I'll tell you our whole plan. A-And where Lupin should be if they're still operating with it. Goemon and Jigen too. Even Fujiko, probably, if she thinks they got away with the jewels. She'll want her share." A share that should have been yours if they'd come back for you and rescued you...

Zenigata snorts, seeming far too entertained by your sudden compliance. "Lupin's women sure are quick to backstab for the bare minimum."

He's right, you didn't ask for nearly enough in exchange for all that information. Quickly, you scramble to make up for it.

"And," you say, "I want immunity. I never technically got my hands on anything anyways."

The inspector takes another slow drag off his cigarette. "Did Fujiko teach you that one?" he asks.

You don't have time to be offended or insulted by him. You simply shrug, rolling your eyes once more, in a desperate attempt to recover whatever cool and collected facade you'd broken the moments before. "Amongst other things. Are you taking the deal or not?" You lean forwards. There's no mistaking where his eyes are momentarily drawn. The zipper of your catsuit had been previously shifted down when you'd been brawling with the Lieutenant Oscar on the floor. "Oh, and for your information, I'm no one's."

Zenigata ignores your bitterness. Instead, he simply looks up, implying a degree of thoughtfulness. "Immunity and no cuffs for you...and all I get is some lousy information that might not even be true?" He shakes his head. "Not good enough. Something more. Something that'll really convince me you're even worth listening to in the first place."

You know what he's trying to do. But you wonder if even he realize you're not even sure if your information is good anymore. It's been a good amount of hours now since you were caught. Chances are they've changed their plan or picked a different safe house to go to. The more you think about it, the more you're convinced you really might be on your own and Zenigata is throwing you a lifeline. Or...is that what the inspector is just trying to get you to think? Either way, you need to come up with an answer for him, and you need to do it soon.

A soft sigh comes from you.

Fujiko's bragged before about escaping jail time via sexual favors with the inspector. She often laughs at the absurdity of it, recalling how he implies she's the one who's easy. You'd always thought she was just fucking with you, or just trying to get under Lupin's skin and make him jealous by loudly talking about all the places on the inspector's body her mouth had been. That detail alone should have been enough to make you realize she's telling the truth. If that doesn't convince you, the way he's look at you...like he's undressing you with his eyes...Fujiko seems to have been telling the truth the whole time, contrary to her nature.

You decide to play dumb. "I don't know what else I could possibly offer you, Zenigata."

He's onto you immediately. "Don't. Play. Dumb." His voice is still cold, what little of his cigarette is left bending between his ever tightening fingers. He surveys you. At the way you look somewhat shaken. His head cocks lightly to the side. "What? Lose your nerve all the sudden?"

You put that facade back on, somewhat disastrously. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do. I don't dance around what I want. See, I'm not like you." The inspector leans forwards. "Let me fuck you, and you'll have your immunity."

There's no sort of indication of surprise from you. Which confirms his previous accusation. If you'd been able to, you would have crossed your arms about now. All you can do is give a huff. "Fine. Will you at least uncuff me for that?"

"Now you haven't done anything to earn that," he says.

You act like you're not interested. But you really, truly, honestly are. Zenigata...he's not...unattractive to you for a lack of better phrasing. No...if anything he's been leading your intrusive thoughts for most of these hours. He's got a sort of sharp curve to his face, a sort of gruffness too, and a darkness to his eyes that makes pleasurable chills sweep through you. But all the same...it makes you wary. Worried. Nervous. Which only intensifies that thrill of being in the room with him at all, handcuffed and helpless, bowing to his will. And you're about to do so much more than sit across a desk from him and dodge questions or sit in petty, sullen silence. His intensity as he stares you down...the way he reminds you of Lupin, Lupin but bound by law, makes you a little hot. And maybe you do the same to him.

Although you're young, new to this game, to the world of thievery and crime that Lupin's leading you by the hand into, you're just like him. That smirk on your face, even as he arrested you...it's too familiar not to heat his blood, ignite fire in his loins. That sort of look isn't learned, it's natural. He wonders for a moment, if he can still save you. If he can turn you away from Lupin and keep you as his own. The idea of having you around even past this, is appealing. He thinks there's potential in you. Something to be molded in his calloused hands.

He pats his lap. You arch a brow. The tension's thickening. Feeling your heart begin to speed up a little, you stand up off the chair. Arms still cuffed behind your back, you take your sweet time making your way behind the desk, to Zenigata's side. He turns the chair with ease, watching you with anticipation. With exaggerated reluctance, you sit upon his lap, weight shifting. One of his hands moves to grasp over thigh.

His hand rubs slow.

"Why so stiff?" he asks. His hand moves from your thigh to trace up the zipper track, before gripping at the zipper itself. His other hand goes to grab at your arm. Slowly, he starts working the zipper down, watching black leather slowly split open to reveal your skin. "You afraid?" Zenigata asks, looking up through thick lashes, zipper right at your stomach.

"Not of you," you say quickly as he starts to lean forwards. His lips push up against your collarbone, prompting the lightest of shivers to travel through you. "I'm new to this whole thing you know-"

"I know. You're as sloppy as Lupin when he first started. You only started showing up in the database a month ago." His breath heats your skin. "Everyone else--they looked you over, little miss (L/N). But not me. I knew you'd be trouble. You can tell that kinda thing just by looking at someone."

"Yeah?" you breathe out.

The air's cold against your revealed skin. As tight as the catsuit is zipped up, hugging your form, once it's zipper slides down, it's loose. The sleeves are part way shoved down by Zenigata's roughed hands, over your shoulders, coming to stop tightly at your elbow. You arms are further pinned to your side, some mock imitation of bondage. Nothing on the front side of your body above your thighs goes unrevealed.

You take in a slow, shaky breath. Zenigata's gaze sweeps over you once more.

Your head turns, involuntarily. You hadn't meant to look away, you'd just suddenly felt strained under all the tension. Zenigata's fingers grip at your chin, bringing you back to face him once more.

"Watch," he demands.

And you obey. You watch his fingers drift lower. The metal from his belt buckle sounds against his fingernails as he flips it open, undoing the leather from his waist. He slides it, letting it drop to floor. Your eyelashes flutter lightly and softly inhale as the inspector's hands move on to the button of his pants. The zipper's next, slowly grinding down over the track. He thumbs his boxers down to pull out his cock. You can't help but lean forwards a little as he pumps over his shaft a couple of times. Heat crashes over you.

"Bet you're happy I didn't uncuff you yet now, huh," he says, voice still lowered and husky, as he looks up at you, a hand still between his legs.

You don't have a witty respond because you're genuinely not sure if you are. You...you want your hands on him. Almost as much as he wants his on you. Wanting both is like a guilty pleasure. Knowing that you're not supposed to do this, that neither of you should be...it makes you livid. It makes your heart beat faster in your chest. It makes the fingers trapped behind your back turn to clenched fists.

You squirm, just slightly, in his lap, becoming agitated with your own anticipation.

"Don't be so eager, baby. I've still gotta get you ready for me..." he murmurs to you.

The way the tone of his voice has dropped slightly more, so it's even huskier and gruffer, less audible, but much deeper. You'd have found it soothing if it weren't for how wide you're spread for him on his lap. Still, it sends goosebumps traveling down your arms. It makes you falter. It makes you tense even more.

His hand moves off of his cock, reaching between your thighs. Slowly, he rubs up against you with his fingers. They're rough, textured, large...You gasp out as his thumb drags up against your clit. One of his fingers pushes up into you. Zenigata's other hand grips stronger at the small of your back to keep you on his lap, as your hips push further towards his abdomen and you fall back a little more with half shut eyes. You wouldn't be able to keep your balance otherwise, being unable to grab onto the inspector and all.

Zenigata leans towards you. You shut your eyes entirely to focus on feeling above what you're seeing. He kisses up your neck, sucking and biting until he finds a particularly sensitive spot to focus on. Every single shiver, every little inhale and held back moan, he can feel against his lops. He can hear you better than before.

"You moan very softly. You don't have to worry about people hearing. I want them to hear." He pushes one last kiss against your jaw. "I wanna hear you."

You're aching for him as his fingers leave you. It's enough to drive you mad. Impatiently, you shift more on his lap, shrugging away from his lips. The lightest of whimpers comes from you. You won't beg. Not yet. You can still pretend like you have a little dignity left.

You open your eyes a little when Zenigata lifts your chin. "You're too pretty to be running with Lupin's gang, you know that?"

At his sweet talking, your cheeks flush a little more. But you still don't reply. You still won't dignify it with a response.

"Don't wanna talk?" His voice gets a little rougher as his hand goes to push your legs wider open. "That's just fine...I wanted to fuck all the information I want out of you anyways."

You don't have time to think over his words, or what they imply. All you know is suddenly, he's roughly slammed up into you. A cry of surprise, but not displeasure escapes you. Your hands clench behind your back, into tighter fists, shoulders pushing back as your hips buck against his. You don't even know why he bothers trying to even ask you questions at all. You can hear nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears, maybe your own moans and his grunts as well.

Eventually, his voice gets through to you.

"Where. Is. Lupin?"

You expect him to slow, give you a chance to think once again about the possible repercussions that might come with ratting out criminals much more powerful than you. But he doesn't--the inspector keeps fucking into you. It feels like your brain's gone numb with all the pleasure, as your breath shortens and becomes uneven. Your eyes shut with bliss and your brows draw. You no longer hold back your moans. They're no longer forced to the back of your throat. You feel him throb inside you at the sweet sound.

Zenigata's movements suddenly begin to draw slower, longer, deeper. Your breathing becomes even more erratic, short, audible gasps cutting through the smoke laced office air. His hand tightens considerably at your thigh.

God he feels good. You're so close. If only he'd go a little faster once again...but maybe that's the point.

Any sort of concerns about your dignity and pride are long gone. You practically melt at the sound of a low groan from him.

"F-Fuck, please," you finally manage, hoping your whines will...encourage him to repeat his previously displayed intensity.

He's got you right where he wants you.

"Say it," Zenigata demands through gritted teeth.

You...you can't take it. You have to cum. You were already overstimulated from his fingers on and in you, and it's only worsening. It's like torture.

You gasp out, face flushed and heart pounding in your chest. "T-there's a hideout! Right on 7th, broken down, boarded up windows, looks abandoned but it's not! You can't miss it! Now, Z-Zenigata, please!"

"Please, what?" he growls. "I wanna hear it from those pretty lips of yours."

You choke back a sob, cheeks flushed brighter red. "Let me cum! Make me! Please! I-I-"

You don't know how else to convince him other than crying out his name, repeatedly, like a prayer, like a mantra. You're a sinner and he is too, but in the moment he feels like a saint to you. Senselessly, you scream that name, again and again, voice curling into whine as his pace begins to quicken once more. A needy, lewd moan you didn't know you were capable of creating escapes you. You can feel his cock rub up against your walls, twitch and curve just right, deep inside of you.

You begin to tremble, feeling your climax start to set in. Head thrown back, you cry out his name once more, hips frantically jerking up against his, crashing against his skin so you can ride out your orgasm. At your sudden eagerness to grind up against him in pursuit of your own pleasure, Zenigata lets out a low curse. As you gasp for breath, writhing against him, you feel a hot jet of cum spread inside you. Shocked, your hips falter and you open your eyes as the last of your orgasm fades, leaving you trembling on his lap.

The rough hand gripping at your thigh slides between your legs once more. He's still buried deep inside you as his fingers start to rub gently at your clit, in such contrast to the rough manner he'd been fucking you in not even second before. You're already so sensitive from the friction and arousal prior, that you worry if Zenigata gets rough again, it might be more painful than anything else.

But he doesn't.

The inspector seems to understand he's already pushed you to your limit. You've broken both a sweat, and tears, the tracks of which are still drying on your flushed cheeks. His fingers stay slow and gentle, the texture of his calloused fingers euphoric. It's a heavenly, blissful sensation. Your eyes fall shut again, and your head automatically tilts back once more. His fingers continue rubbing rhythmically between your legs.

"You deserve to be rewarded," Zenigata murmurs. His breath is suddenly hot on your skin as he leans forwards to kiss you. "You've been a good girl for me."

A warm, pleasant feeling flows through your veins, a glow from his approval maybe. Does his praise really do that much for you? Apparently, judging by the way you can already feel another slow orgasm coming on, it does. A soft moan comes from you, muffled by his lips. His fingers are still damp with your own arousal.

Even when you give another sharp inhale, signaling your climax coming on, the inspector continues rubbing without falter. He kisses at the marks he's left on your neck as you breathe out his name, almost dreamily. The slow, soft orgasm, so in contrast to the previous one, manages to upstage. You've never known pleasure like this before.

You're still gasping up against him, even as his hand leaves you, eyes peeking half open.

His arm raises. Slowly, he brings his hand to your face. His fingers run over your chin, to your bottom lip, nudging at your mouth, up against your teeth. Zenigata doesn't need to give you the command. You already know to obey. You part your lips, let your jaw slack. You can taste his thumb, coated with you on your tongue, your panting hot and bothered. You continue to try to catch your breath, chest heaving lightly. The perspiration is beginning to chill at your hairline.

When he's satisfied, Zenigata pulls his thumb from your mouth. The strings of saliva connecting his skin to yours break. Gently, the inspector goes to tilt your chin up. His dark eyes stay unmoving on yours. There's the slightest of wolfish smiles on his rugged face.

Voice still lowered and gruff, he speaks, nose inches from yours.

"Interpol thanks you for your cooperation."

#nsfw #one shot #lupin iii #koichi zenigata #zenigata x reader #characterization of zenigata is adjacent to twcfm portrayal

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

make sure i cant be found

jigen daisuke x reader

nsfw

5.8k words

There's another contracted killer tailing you this afternoon.

You'd somehow evaded about four of them previously, and there'd been a long stretch of time where no more had been sent.

That period of time had been the most anxiety inducing.

So this fifth killer was almost...relieving.

Something's finally happening.

During the period of time, your mind being unoccupied from dodging death, you'd come to terms with just that--your eventual death. You'd come to terms with how continuing to run wouldn't solve anything. How you'd never be able to outrun your quickly approaching death. So why be afraid anymore?

You can see his shadow sometimes in your peripheral vision, blending and separating from the shadows of the crowd. You can feel his stare into your back. Normally you can lose them easy in crowds--when will they ever learn? Did they think you were really stupid enough not to be observant of your surroundings, being who you were?

A hat sets his shadow apart from the others.

A hat that suddenly seemed extremely familiar, enough for you to suddenly stop in your tracks.

You turned around.

And there stood the man hired to kill you, as the crowd continued on by.

But he's different from the other unintelligent, moronic excuses for assassins sent for you. Cheaper options, of course. But this man, he held himself taller. More dignified. In a way that you knew.

You squint slightly, leaning closer. "I know you," you suddenly told him, racking your brain for a name for a moment. How could you have even forgotten him for a moment? "Mr. Jigen!" You finally say with a snap of your fingers, far too cheerful for someone that was currently sentenced to the equivalent of death row.

You stop yourself from asking him why he was here. You'd only meant it to be a bit of small talk. But you already knew why he was here. And strangely enough, your heart didn't sink in the slightest at the moment of realization. He's here to kill you, of course. But if your monstrous ex-husband was going to send someone new to take you out after all this time, you were glad it was the man standing before you.

Jigen was somewhat taken aback. He's quiet as he stands before you, like he'd always been. He hadn't expected you to immediately recognize him, much less remember him, or even greet him with this much enthusiasm.

Does she know why I'm here? he found himself wondering, feeling the trigger of his gun beneath his fingers, tucked inside his jacket, hidden from the view of passing by crowds.

"You used to be my bodyguard," you said with a tilt of your head.

Jigen nodded, lightly, still wordless.

He knew he couldn't kill you here. He can't shoot you on a busy street, that was absurd. That, and he wasn't the biggest fan of potentially killing people he wasn't being paid to kill in the first place. Anyone in this crowd could get hurt. He found himself mentally kicking himself for not waiting until you had been alone to approach you. Apparently, you were much more used to being followed than he thought you'd be. This definitely wasn't your first rodeo. He'd been sloppy. He'd underestimated you.

But you weren't running.

And that was because you seemed to know what he was thinking.

He wouldn't shoot you. Not here, not now, at least. You both seemed to know that. A silent understanding was shared between the two of you.

"I'd like to say that I didn't expect you...but I figured he'd send you next. You're the best around right? The first few guys weren't any good at tracking me down were they? They underestimated me. But you won't do the same. At least, you won't the next time you get a chance to get a clean shot at me."

Jigen seemed at a loss for words, like now he wasn't exactly sure what to say to you. And he wasn't sure why there was a smile on your face as you spoke to him. It's not mocking. Not when there's a certain sadness in your eyes, paired with that smile. Like you're just trying to genuinely be friendly with him. Why are you trying to be on good terms wtih a man whose here to kill you?

Finally, he finds the words. "I wouldn't know," he tells you, somewhat gruffly. "I try not to get into the drama of things like this. Complicates it all too much for my taste."

"Well, will taking me out for a bit before you put a bullet in my head complicate things at all? I was going out today anyways. I wouldn't mind the company."

Jigen's hand goes to tilt his hat a bit lower. He's unsure if the two of you are being watched at the moment. "Between you and me, I don't think that's such a good idea." His voice was low as he leaned closer to you to stay hushed.

You shrugged, smile not faltering. "What does it matter to him? As long as I'm dead by the end of it, I'm sure he won't care."

Jigen stays quiet as the bustling crowd continues by, oblivious and unaware to what is transpiring between you and him. How he envies them...He doesn't have time to think of an excuse, much less an answer to your request. You've already taken him by the hand, giving him a light pull in the direction you want to go--towards the shops.

"C'mon," you say, "Why don't you think it all over while you walk with me? Just like old times, right? Only less bags for you to carry this time."

Jigen doesn't know why on Earth he lets you drag him along down the street, like an unwilling mutt, but he does. His arm stops pulling back as he comes to finally walk at your side without your "persuasion" needed any longer. His hands return to his pockets. Your hand still grabs at the bend in his arm nearest to you. He wonders if there's other contracted killers out looking for you, based on your closeness to him. Are you disillusioned enough to think he'd protect you?

Then again, if he's not the one to kill you, he's not the one who will get the payment.

You're too smart for your own good. It's fitting that you eventually get put down by him of all people.

"You want a new suit or whatever you're into? I dunno if they sell guns here, though." Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts as he glances down at you. "You like Givenchy right? Dead girls don't have much use for material objects, y'know?"

So it seems you know he'll kill you. It seems you want him to kill you.

"No, I'm alright," Jigen replies, attempting to be polite rather than gruff, as he usually is. This is all too strange.

You shrug. "Suit yourself. I'd rather the money I have left just go to you. You were a good bodyguard. Actually my favorite out of them all."

Jigen doesn't reply, feeling it was unnecessary to acknowledge the compliment. He knows you're not being sweet on him to try to escape your fate, your eventual death at the business end of his magnum. You've just...always been like this. It's not very often he can remember his clients by name or even face once he no longer needs to protect them. They're always numbers to him. It's his job, after all. But it's always left him disgruntled that without even trying, even before all this, he's always managed to remember your name and face.

As you window shop with him, he starts to understand why that is. It's a pleasant thing, being in your company. You've got this sort of aura about you that's calming. Almost like he's out casually with a friend, not a client--er, target. Jigen's still quiet as he walks alongside you, slowing his pace to match your aimless amble. He's usually quiet like this. It was comforting. The least stressful times you've ever had married to the bastard that was now sending Jigen to kill you, were the times you'd been sent out to shop and get your nails done. Jigen had been vigilant at your side during those times, similar to how he was with you now.

He'd been surprisingly easy to talk to for a man that didn't say much at all. It was nice, just having something to talk at in the first place. He was a good listener, if anything else. None of your bodyguards previous had listened when you'd talked. They'd just ignored you. Sometimes, on the rare occasion Jigen did choose to respond, his advice had been surprisingly sound and stellar.

But, it wasn't enough in the end. There's no getting out of this. You'd known when you'd first gotten the tip that Daisuke Jigen was the man to be sent after you next after your last killer had failed. You were going to die soon. By his hand. By this evening, tonight, no later than morning, you were hoping. The idea of waking up after all this was too much to bare.

You glance up at him.

You wonder if he's just trying to protect his bounty or if he's genuinely attempting to fulfill your simple request.

Still, you found yourself sitting down to dinner with him. It's pleasant, despite the underhanded feeling equivalent to eating across from a venomous snake. You don't know when he'll strike. You try not to let your anxieties worsen as he continues to stay at your side, following you back to your hotel room. Is he letting you choose where he'll kill you? Or maybe he prefers to do this kind of thing in private? No...obviously not. He's killed in front of you, in public before when protecting you. So maybe this is different to him.

Still, you come to realize that you don't really care about him knowing where you were staying. You don't care that he sees the number plate on the hotel door that you shoulder open. Nothing really matters at this point. Your familiar, but comforting, nihilism returns. You wonder if you can actually call what you're feeling nihilism. No...that's not the right word for it anymore. Acceptance. That's what this all feels more like.

Your heart is pumping, beating loud in your chest, but it's no longer anxious or scared. A sort of giddiness that came with the acceptance makes you feel freer than you've felt in years. Full of life. How ironic.

You're surprised that Jigen doesn't have a gun to the back of your head the second he shuts the hotel door behind him.

You turn to face him.

"What now?" you ask, voice soft with a tilt of your head.

Jigen stands quiet before you, hands tucked in his pocket. You can't quite make out the shape of a gun. He bites down on his cigarette, motion so small that anyone else wouldn't have noticed it. You wonder if it's the wine you had at dinner suddenly making you feel like you're hot, on fire. You can smell his cologne, strong, mixed with the smell of the cigarette smoke as he stands close to you, inches away.

"You know." His answer is simple, voice low.

A soft sigh leaves you. "Of course I...know about that. You've got to kill me. But what about before all that?"

Jigen doesn't respond. You close the space between you and him, just a little. You lean forwards to adjust his tie, which had come a little loose while you'd been dragging him around the shopping square. Your fingers trace over the silk as you stare at the small pattern in the tie. You look up at him, head tilting.

"Can I kiss you?" you suddenly asked, looking up at him, his silken tie still gripped lightly in your hands.

The cigarette shifts between his thin lips, almost indecisively. "You're a weird chick, y'know."

Your head tilted to the side. "Oh yeah?"

"Asking to kiss a man who you know is here to kill you? Odd, if you don't mind me sayin'."

"You'll have me dead by sunrise. What does it matter to me?"

There you go again, talking about how nothing matters to you anymore. It's almost jealousy inducing, how free you seemed to be. How no sort of fear seems to dampen your spirits. But he can sense that there's a sort of mania taking hold of you. It's been taking hold for most of the day now. What other reason would you have for taking out your soon to be killer on what was basically a date?

It's strangely infectious.

As your words fully register with him, he pulls the cigarette from his mouth, pinching it between his pointer and middle. His head sinks lower, as he meets your height. His free hand grips at your arm, roughly, in contrast to how gentle he was approaching your face. The heat of his breath brushes over your skin as your eyes flutter shut and he finally kisses you.

Body pressed to yours, Jigen walks you, backwards, to the unmade bed. The back of your legs catch on the side of the mattress and you fall back into it, arms wrapped tight around him. You bring him down with you. Your hands knock his hat off to tangle in his thick, dark hair, as he kisses down your neck, pressed tight between your open legs.

He reaches over, to the nightstand to put his cigarette on it.

Jigen pops open the buttons on your shirt. His hands press against your upper arms, pinning them down into the mattress as he stares down at you, eyes dark and lustful.

Something hard is pressing into your leg.

You smile, breathless already. "Is that your gun, or...?"

"It's not."

You giggle before pulling him closer to you so you could kiss him harder. He tastes like a mixture of the wine from dinner and the smoke off his cigarette. Your hands reach down to his narrow hips, feeling for the closure on his belt. You find it around the same time his tongue makes its way into your mouth. Your back arches, chest pushing into his as the belt buckle clicks on your nails and you manage to get it open. His hand drifts down to help, sliding the belt from the loops on his pants. His lips break away from yours as he leans over top of you, grabbing your hand and pulling it above your head. You stretch your other one up as well, watching him through half shut eyes as he works to wrap his belt around your wrist.

"Do you mind?" he asks, hand gripping at the length of the belt extending past your hands.

"Not one bit. It's my last night, do whatever you want."

You can see him grin. His approval makes you practically glow. Hand at your jaw, he kisses you once more, stretching your arms back more above your head. His hand leaves your face to your dismay, returning down to his pants to undo them. As they lower past his hips, you press your head back into the mattress, staring up at the ceiling as you struggle to catch your breath.

He's slow, sliding down your own pants. You kick them off your ankles, to the floor. His mouth presses to your collarbone, down to your chest, You gasp sharply, feeling his teeth dig into your skin. The pain subsides, as it blurs with pleasure. Your hips grind up against his, your desperation clear to him.

"You think all those little moans of yours are gonna change my mind? Make me spare you?" he suddenly asks, voice low in your ear.

"Not in the slightest. I just want you fucking buried in me. Even when you were my bodyguard, I wanted you to do this to me." You take in another sharp breath as his fingers suddenly press up against your panties, thumb up against where your clit was. "Once, after we went shopping, f-for lingerie I think it was...the second you left..." You bite back a moan as his thumb circles you. Your hips press into his hand. "L-Let's just say I wasn't thinking of my husband while my hands were between my legs, okay?"

"Then who was it? Who were you thinking of?" he asks. Had your eyes been open you might have taken note of the knowing smirk on his face and never answered. Hearing the most sinful of your thoughts was arousing to him. Hearing that he was the cause of them made him hotter.

"Don't do this to me, y-you know." His thumb stops moving and you whimper. Your hands jerk against the taut belt. "Jigen, plea-"

"Who. Was. It. I wanna hear you say it."

You bite the inside your cheek. Desperate to have him rubbing up against you again, you finally answer.

"You."

He pulls your panties aside before seemingly changing his mind, grabbing them by the waistband and tearing them down your legs.

"Jigen-" you start.

He shushes you. "Don't worry. When have I ever disappointed you before?"

You smile. "You haven't."

Shifting over top of you, his hair falls over his eyes. Feeling him, his cock, brush up against your sensitive inner thigh, you shiver in anticipation. You see just a flash of his teeth before he pushes into you. Well...he's still not wrong. He's not disappointing in the slightest. He takes it slow.

Although you weren't acting like you were nervous, your body suggested otherwise. It seems you've practically perfected you carefree, aloof facade concerning your soon to be death. Maybe you're thinking of it, from the way you seem to tighten around him.

Almost like he's reading your mind, Jigen speaks again. "Don't think of that now."

You nod, exhaling slightly. He's right. You shouldn't be thinking of what he'll do to you later. Think of what he's doing to you know, of how all your fantasies with him seem to be becoming real tonight. You wish you hadn't let him bind your hands--you wanted to hold him again, just to be sure that this isn't some feverish delusion. But you feel his cock, rub deep inside you, up against one of the more sensitive spots on your body and you crumble, your mind crumbles, giving way to the pure euphoria.

"Mmm, Jigen..." you sigh his name again, eyes shut as his hips grind up against yours. You can feel the texture of the rough, coarse, dark hair trailing down his body up against your skin, rubbing with each of his slow, long movements. "K-keep going. Don't stop, please don't stop."

Your begging practically sets the hair on the back of his neck on end. He feels the prickle of further arousal travel through his nerves, consuming him whole as he focuses on fulfilling yet another one of your requests.

His hands shift to your hips, gripping them tight enough to leave bruises. One of your legs wrap around him, desperate for more friction. A low moan escapes the back of your throat, eyebrows contorting as he hits the perfect spot again, and again, and again. You don't know if your attraction to him makes him feel so good, or if he's genuinely this...gifted in the sheets.

Jigen's rough lips captured yours once again, quieting any further noises down to soft grunts and whines. His own moan, up against your lips, sends a chill down your spine. You would have arched it to relieve the tension, if Jigen didn't have you pressed with his full weight to the mattress. One of his hands leaves your hips--bruises would no doubt form in it's place the next morning. His fingers return to your clit. The pleasure is almost enough to make you cry.

The tears barely form at the corners of your eyes as your teeth come down on his bottom lip. Your fingers clench into fists above your head as the tension builds in your body until the knot forming in your core snaps, and you cum, hard. Shaking, you barely recover as the rough pad of his fingertip rubs up into your clit again and you shake beneath him as he attempts to extend your climax.

You try to moan his name again--but can't. The stifled first syllable is the only thing to leave your quivering lips. You don't intend on making him stop. Not until you feel him cum inside you, not until he's a disheveled mess too. Although you're weak and your head is spinning, you still give some attempt to match his pace, hips pushing up against his.

You hear him bite back a harsh exhale, pushing a groan to the back of his throat. He swears, under his held breath, head dipping, pressing up against yours. You feel him, hot inside you. You don't care. It's not like you'll live long enough to risk an accidental pregnancy either. That sort of carelessness makes you even more thrilled to be laying beneath him, his arms suddenly wrapped around you, hand pressing up against the back of your head, pushing your face into his chest.

The smell of his cologne, of his musk beneath it, brought on by the sweat he'd broken fucking into you, fills your nose. Peacefully, you exhale, shutting your eyes as he practically peels you off of him.

Laying on your back, you faintly open your eyes as Jigen settles beside you. He sits up, yanking his pants up over his hips, before leaning over top of you, to undo the belt around your wrists. You consider that strange. Wasn't he worried that you'd change your mind last minute and try to run? Wouldn't it have been easier to execute you if your hands were bound and you couldn't fight back?

Does he really trust you that much?

Still, the leather slides away from your skin and you pull your arms back down, resting them over you chest as you rub the slight soreness out of your skin. You lean back, head up against the pillow as your fingers absentmindedly move. Jigen reaches off to the side, to the nightstand for his once abandoned cigarette. He sticks it back in his mouth, reaching into his pocket for his lighter.

"I don't normally ask, like I said before, don't like getting into the drama-" Jigen starts, mumbling around the smoke in his mouth.

"But you're a little too deep in now. So ask away," you say, eyes fixed on the ceiling with a bit of a smile.

The lighter clicks, his cigarette lights--you can tell by the way the smell of smoke suddenly fills your nose. He wastes no time. "What did you do? To make him send me after you? If I'm not mistaken the two of you were once married."

You hold up a hand, now empty of a ring, for him to observe. How had he not taken note of that before? "Mhm. Not any more though." You take in a breath before talking again. "I stopped loving him. I dunno. Just one day I...I stopped. Love makes you do really strange things. Like pretending your husband isn't an evil, murderous mob boss. Like pretending you don't see the other women that aren't you he's constantly got around him. So I left. And...he just doesn't like loose ends. Not that I ever planned on snitching or anything. My plan was to go somewhere far away. Die old on a beach somewhere, I guess. But then the assassins just...kept coming. And I never got the chance to leave."

Laying at his side, you suddenly grab his arm, bringing it closer to your body, his forearm squeezed between either of your arms, up tight against your chest. You brought his knuckles to your lips gently. Eyes half shut, focusing on nothing in particular, you spoke once more, voice softer than before.

"Promise you'll make sure no one can find my body. Sink me in a river or bury me deep in a forest. Cut me into pieces. Just make sure I can't be found."

"Not a fan of open casket funerals?" His dry attempt at humor at least made you genuinely smile.

"That's one part of it. I think being found dead is kinda embarrassing. I'd rather be a missing person."

Jigen glances over at you. "That's a bit cruel isn't it? Letting your loved ones cling on to some hope like that? It's selfish."

You shook your head. "There are no loved ones for me, Jigen. I've either cut them off long ago to be with him or he chased them off. Threatened them or had his guys kill them one by one until whoever was left fled this city. One or the other. I just wanted to try to keep them safe from him. It didn't work. Lord forbid I ever have a marked grave, there won't be anyone to grieve me... Also kinda embarrassing."

"You speak so casually of dying." He already knows why of course, but he can't help but want to hear it from you.

A soft, casually shrug shifts your shoulders. "I've come to terms with it. Months ago, I knew I'd die. No one lives long knowing what I know, seeing what I have. I'm not much a survive-at-all-cost type person anyways."

"Not tryin' to be rude, but I find it pathetic, just giving up like that."

"Call it what you want, Jigen. But for what it's worth, I don't think giving up and coming to terms with something inevitable is the same thing."

He shifts on the bed, sitting up slightly to reach behind him, to his holster. As he leans back down, into the mattress he holds his prized possession, his gun, up to let the dim light catch it. When you look upon it, you feel no fear.

He doesn't look at you. "Is this inevitable?" He asks.

You nod, hands squeezing a little tighter at his arm. "In a way, it is. If the bullet doesn't come from your gun, it'll come from someone else's. I'd rather it be yours."

You watch him rise up from the mattress, suddenly, pants still loose at his hips. Standing at the side of the bed he turns and aims his gun at you. You shrug the sheets off and crawl to the side of the bed he's at, sitting back on your heels, hands at your knees. Slowly, you lean forward, bowing your head so the barrel of his magnum is pressed directly to your forehead.

You look up at him.

"Make it quick and painless. Please."

You go back to staring at your hands. You've told him you're not scared. That you've come to accept this--the inevitable that is. But still, your knuckles whiten as you grip your knees harder in an attempt to stop your hands from shaking.

Jigen stares at you for what feels like a moment too long, finger on the trigger. But he doesn't pull it. For the first time in his life, he hesitates doing what comes so naturally to him.

Before you can glance up again to ask him what's wrong, something hits you, hard, and everything goes black.

The only person more surprised than you as you slowly wake up in a bed that isn't the hotel room bed is Jigen.

What the hell was he thinking?

Sunlight cuts through the spaces in the curtain, touching your skin. You give a soft groan, arm stretching up so you can grab at the back of your pounding head. Slowly, you sit up. Jigen sits at the foot of the bed, polishing his gun.

You're quiet with shock before you speak, voice suddenly shaking. "W-Why didn't you do it?" He couldn't fulfill your one other simple request? What kind of contracted killer was he? Had he suddenly forgotten what he was being paid to do? What in the actual fresh hell was going on?

Jigen was quiet. As usual. He holsters his gun again and simply sat at the end of his bed, slouching as if he wasn't sure what the hell he was doing either.

Frantically, you speak again. "Look, if you don't do it, one of his men will. It's too late for me, Jigen. You should have just killed me last night."

"I didn't want to."

"But-"

"I got you a plane ticket out of here."

You push the sheets off your body, crawling over to him. Leaning on your hands you stare, hard, at him.

"...Why are you trying so hard to save me?" You ask him, suspicion heavy in your voice. He's not the type to do this sort of thing. Surely this is a set up for something else, or-or there's some other reasonable explanation.

"You don't deserve to die." He's still not looking at you.

"That hasn't stopped you from killing before. You've taken plenty of innocent lives, haven't you?"

All Jigen does is give a slight nod.

The tension in your shoulder slowly eases. "You're a...you're a good guy, Jigen. Thank you."

It's hard not to let just a look of amusement cross his face. He's certainly no good guy. But if that's what you want to believe, he won't ruin that fantasy for you.

"Don't thank me," he mumbles, scratching at his grizzled cheek. "Just make sure you're on that plane before it leaves."

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Will you take me? To the airport? They'll figure out very quickly that I'm not dead, if they haven't by now. And when they do...Is that ticket refundable?"

Jigen scoffs. "Don't worry about it. I'll take you. And no it's not, so your ass is getting on that plane."

You can't help but smile again. "Thank you," you say again. You lean in towards him to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before you get up off the bed.

Jigen just shakes his head. His hand goes to touch his face, where your lips had been as he continued to slouch down, elbow resting on his knee.

You're quick to get ready. Jigen offers you one of his dress shirts and pants to wear. It's oversized, both articles of clothing are too long in the sleeve and leg for you, but you don't bother complaining. It makes you smell like him, which you don't mind at all. The fact that you're alive is a miracle in itself, and the fact that he's helping you is more than that.

Once in the car, he pressures you to keep your head down for most of the ride. Your hand finds his wrist, holding onto it tightly. Knowing that there's a possibility you may live makes you so much more anxious about dying now. You blame Jigen completely for that, but know you'll forever be in his debt if he manages to actually pull this off.

"I'm nervous," you tell him, voice quiet and shaking.

His wrist turns in his hand so his fingers can wrap around your own wrist. He gives you what he hopes comes off as a comforting squeeze. He's never been good with this sort of thing. "You'll be okay," he says. "I promise."

Arriving at the terminal does nothing to steady your nerves. It makes them worse. Being so close to freedom is another feeling entirely. You've dreamed of this moment, thought of it constantly, back when you were trying to organize your escape all those months ago before giving up. It's finally happening...

You hesitate after getting out of the car, standing at the curb for just a moment, ticket and wallet jammed in your pocket. You glance back, turn, to face Jigen, trying to think of something to say. He knows he shouldn't have stuck around. He should have drove off the second you were out of the car so you wouldn't waste your time.

But everything happens for a reason.

Jigen's eyes dart to the corner of the terminal. He notices a man, advancing towards you, far too quickly for his comfort. His hand moves out of his pocket. There's something in it. Jigen reaches back, grabbing his own gun, pulling the trigger in what feels like half a second flat. At the sound of the gunshot, the passerby scream. You cry out in fear, ducking down as the man coming at you collapses, gun sliding from his hand.

Jigen shifts the car gear into drive, already hearing the sirens of the airport security. "GO, NOW! RUN!" He hollers before flooring it.

By the time you've nodded, shaken, he's gone. Quickly, you turn and run for the airport, blending in with the panicking crowd. The chaos is perfect to melt into.

You don't look back again.

But you're still thinking about him.

#nsfw #one shot #lupin iii #jigen daisuke #jigen daisuke x reader

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

there is no god now take off your panties

jigen daisuke x reader

nsfw

8.5k words

By assassination attempt number two, it was decided that you needed a bodyguard.

Embarrassingly enough, you hadn't really noticed the attempts until that second time, when the car headed in your direction had actively swerved off the road in an attempt to hit you on purpose. All the sudden close calls and "nearly accidents" that had occurred for the months prior didn't seem so accidental anymore. Recognizing your own obliviousness, you don't at all have an issue when your father found your first bodyguard.

You don't know why these people, these awful men just keep coming. You don't know who's sending them or where they're coming from. Your father won't tell you shit. When has he ever? Better for you not to get involved in what he simply referred to as "the family business". Not much a family left between just you and him. Your personal theory is that said "family business" either involves a lot of drugs or a lot of money--there's no other reason this many people would want you kidnapped or dead or both so often.

Although it's irritating to be kept on the outskirts of it all, not being able to contribute or help with the issue, you're ultimately relieved that you're kept out of it for the most part. You supposed that the less you knew and less you were involved, the more it should have reduced the attempts on your life. Unfortunately, you're still related to the head of the "family business", so it actually didn't do shit. It only made things scarier to you because you didn't know any details about anything.

Worst of all, the capabilities of your enemies, specifically the businesses' enemies had been severely underestimated at the start. The first bodyguard had been picked off so quickly you wondered if it was worth counting him as one of your protectors at all. The only details you'd been made aware of was that he wasn't anywhere near you when he'd been shot and killed. Thank God--you've never been much for any sort of gruesome or gory scenes. It's all too much for someone like you.

Even if you hate not being made aware of what was truly going on, you once again secretly revel in the idea that you're allowed to be oblivious and aloof without much consequence.

But that sort of attitude was only maintainable if there was someone else at your side who wasn't oblivious and aloof.

Thus came in bodyguard number two.

This one looks different, you think to yourself when he'd been brought into your father's office alongside you for an official meeting. He looks like he'd be one of the men sent to kill you, not protect you. Maybe that shadiness gives him his edge. You find him...scary at first. Probably one of the most intimidating men you've ever laid eyes on. Just the sight of him makes you want to shrink into the floor and disappear.

His name is Jigen Daisuke.

He looks to be older than you by a good amount of years, but you figure his line of work probably ages him more than anything else. Still, there’s hints of grey already starting to appear in his dark, thick hair and here and there in his beard. Looking him up and down, you feel sorry for whoever he isn't being paid to protect because he looks dangerous as all hell. It’s the quietness to him, you think. The sense that he’s capable of killing with ease isn’t completely lost on you, like most things are. He’s not overly muscular but there’s still certain power to him, even as he slouches up against the wall, cigarette in his mouth, eyes shaded by his hat.

Somehow, not being able to see his eyes for the moment was a relief. You don't think you could have handled the pressure of making consistent eye contact with someone like him.

However, there was not much of a choice when it came to dealing with your initial discomfort with him. You can't avoid him--he's your bodyguard, and he wouldn't let you. So all you can do is slowly grow used to Jigen Daisuke practically babysitting you. It still takes awhile, even though he's with you for your every waking and sleeping moment.

It'd been awkward at first not being able to have even a minute to yourself. But then again, the last bodyguard had given you plenty of space and time to yourself, undefended, and now he was dead. So maybe the lesson to be learned from that was to never let you out of sight, not even for a second.

Thankfully, Jigen's quiet and blends in well, like he's no more than a lanky shadow on the wall when he wants to be. And even when you can't directly see him, you know he's nearby. You become easily capable of identifying the smell of his cologne or the smoke off his cigarette. It got to the point where not being able to smell one of those two things was panic inducing to the point where you actively would seek him out.

He's very down to earth, which is a welcome change from the last bodyguard, who was so cocky that it was becoming less and less entertaining to you by the day. It seemed like he didn't want you to think of him as a superior, even if he obviously was in a position of more power than you. Jigen was quick to have you drop any formalities with him, preferring just to be called by name with no titles. You suppose that it makes sense he has distaste for any sort of authority judging by the career path he'd chosen.

Still, the accommodations do start to get on your nerves.

The loss of personal time was somewhat harrowing to someone as spoiled as you.

But any opportunity could be one a potential assassin would take to kill you.

Once you'd just been trying to take a bath to relax. The day just...hadn't felt right to you. From the moment you were awake (Jigen at your side of course) until now, sinking slightly beneath the bubbles, a sort of tension had stayed firm in your body. Like something bad was about to happen to you. Although you felt it was stupid, you voiced your gut feeling to Jigen, and your concerns that came with it. Instead of waving it off, he'd responded accordingly by practically gluing himself to your side.

You cannot even come close to imagining how much this guy's getting paid to make sure you don't die.

To your relief, even though he'd followed you into the bathroom, he'd chosen to stand facing the door, his back turned to you.

You can't figure out if you're having trouble relaxing on account of the feeling that something's coming for you or if it's because there's a man three feet away from you when you're straight up naked. Of course, Jigen's been in the same room with you while you'd been changing clothes, always looking away or at a wall or at the ground, suddenly extremely interested in his shoes. He's somewhat decent like that. But it's different being more vulnerable for this much longer with only bubbles and foam on top of the hot water to offer any sense of modesty.

You figure it might be worth a shot, just this once, to get some time to yourself for the first time in about a month.

“Can you get out?” you ask.

“No.” His back is still to you, facing the door.

“Okay thanks.” You sink back into the bathtub, water at your chin. It’d be a lie to say that you weren’t starting to get irritated with him right now. "I think you can guard the door really well from the outside. Just a thought. Pretty sure that's where any intruders would come from in the first place. Outside the door."

Jigen shakes his head.

Before you have a chance to argue with him anymore, he cuts you off.

“There’s a window. Big enough for someone to get through. Standing outside the door isn’t enough.”

You glance around the bathroom before spotting the window adjacent to the inner wall the bathtub was connected to. For ventilation, of course, but you hadn't thought of it as being of use to a possible threat for entry before.

“You’re observant.”

“It’s my job to be observant.” He casts a glance back in your direction.

You fall silent for a long while, your soft exhale of exasperation indenting the bubbles near your nose. You lift your head a little higher a few moments later, not wanting to get your pinned up hair wet. Neck against the cooler porcelain to relieve yourself from the heat of the water you stare up at the ceiling.

And for the first time, you make genuinely decent small talk with Jigen.

You were surprised that he engaged at all, considering how quiet and no-nonsense he usually was around you. Your guess was that he was growing bored, sitting there and staring at the door. At first you talk more about yourself, not wanting to really pry at him too much. He's the mysterious type, and you'd honestly rather keep him that way. Still, now and then, he'll let little details slip.

He'd grown comfortable enough to turn around completely, even meander over and sit on the edge of the bathtub as you leaned against the rim, arms crossed under your chin.

It was the most he'd talked to you since he first started to work as your bodyguard. He seemed more human than a walking gun for once.

He'd told you that he'd been shooting that gun of his for as long as he could remember and that it was the only thing he was any good at.

"Aw, come on. I'm sure that's not all you're good for," you told him, head tilted with a bit of a smile. From your angle beneath him, you can see his eyes well. They're extremely intelligent. It wasn't nearly as scary making eye contact with him as you once thought it would be. "You're pretty suave for a quiet guy. There's gotta be guys and girls all over you."

He seems to retreat slightly at this and shake his head. "I'm...no good with women, really. Guns are easier to get along with."

"Same with me, but like, the other way y'know. Even before people were trying to kill me, I don't think I've had one good date with a guy. They just...don't really like me, I think?" You sigh. "Even harder now that everyone's out to get me. But you, I guess."

He falls quiet.

"How long are you being paid to protect me for, anyways?" you suddenly ask, gazing up at him. "You can't stick around forever, right?"

Jigen sits up. He seems to stiffen a little bit and all the sudden the humaneness is gone. "I was told not to disclose that to you."

For some reason, that pisses you off. More than anything else. Maybe it was the combined months of not really being given details, but the final admission that it was all planned and purposeful was a little more than you could take. Jigen watches your expression shift in seconds. Visible frustration pulls your face into an uncharacteristic scowl. Out of no where, you suddenly dunk your head under the water.

Jigen's fingers grasp at the hair at the back of your head, quickly pulling you back up.

"Ow, Jigen-"

"Don't do that," is all he says to you before letting go.

You let out a heavy sigh, bringing up an arm to wipe the droplets from your brow and clear your eyes. You draw your knees up to your chest. "God..." you finally find yourself musing out loud. "What the fuck has he gotten himself into..." Your fingers thread through your soaking hair, face pressed into your palm.

Of course you know. The "family business" isn't some cute coffee shop or a restaurant, as much as you try to lie and tell yourself that. It's something darker, something illegal, something worse. Because how else would a man with a kill count like Jigen Daisuke end up sitting next to you as you soaked in a bath tub?

You lift your head, biting the inside of your cheek before resting your chin upon your knee. "Jigen, I'm scared," you admit.

"Keep that feeling. It might keep you alive."

You give him a dirty look. He only shrugs, starting to reach into his jacket pocket for a cigarette--a habit of his whenever things got too awkward or personal for him to really handle properly.

"I'm not much of a comfort to have around," Jigen told you simply.

"No, no, it's...it's okay." You give an irritated sigh. "At least someone's finally being straight up with me around here. You know how frustrating it is to be kept in the dark like this? It's exhausting, constantly being lied to, or-or shielded or whatever."

"Sometimes the truth's too much." He's still digging around in his jacket pocket. "Both to hear and to tell."

You sit up slightly, arms sinking between your legs to press up against the smooth ceramic bottom of the tub. You lean into your knees for the sake of keeping your chest underwater.

"That's very profound of you," you observe with a bit of a smile.

"I have a halfway decent thought every now and then."

A strange sound echoes out across the dim bathroom suddenly--akin to a lock clicking. All thoughts of finding something clever to say back leaves your mind as instant fear washes over you. Jigen goes dead quiet as well. Slowly, his hand pulls out of his jacket pocket, instead going behind him to reach into his holster and for his gun. He's up, crouching on the rim of the tub, other hand pushed up against the corner to steady himself as you sink even lower into the water.

His eyes don't leave the window, which is slowly sliding open.

"Cover your ears and get down," he tells you, so quiet he might have not said anything at all. His magnum was aimed at the now wide open window.

You obey, drawing your hands slowly to your ears as to not make noise, bringing your head halfway underwater to muffle the sound of the gunshot that you knew was coming. You shut your eyes, too scared to even watch. You just want to be numb to it all. You hate this. More than anything in the whole world.

As soon as a face appeared, Jigen pulled the trigger with no hesitation.

Even with your ears submerged, you still flinch. He's off the rim of the tub in seconds. His gun still, in hand, he turns to grab a towel. Jigen pulls you out of the tub. You're too stunned to really care about him seeing you naked at this point. You always get like this. Every time he takes a life to save yours. Quickly, he wraps the towel around you, starting to hurry you out of the bathroom. You feel like you've seen him do this, his job, hundreds of times, but yet you still slip into a terror induced shock, shaking badly up against him.

Once he finished escorting you back to your room, sweeping through it as he usually did, checking under the bed, behind curtains, in every little place someone meaning your harm could be hiding away, you sit upon your bed. Jigen looks over at you, gun still in hand as you hunch over on the edge of your bed, bringing the towel tighter around yourself. The building guilt, even if you know he's being paid handsomely, is too much at times for you to handle.

The pressure of knowing that if he was gone for even one moment, it would cost you your life is even worse. The idea that one day he may not be around was more terrifying to you than most of the attempts on your life. And it the combined pressure of it all sinks its teeth in deep. It feels equivalent to being brain dead and kept on life support, having tons of money wasted on you, having all the stress and effort in the world put your way--just to eventually die at the end of the day. And that's the worst thing--all of the sudden, here and there, in little sporadic bursts, you lose your will to live.

The stress, the shock, the bloodshed, the fear, it's all too much for someone like you. You're no survivor. You're not rugged like Jigen is. You're not like him.

One more than one occasion, the pressure had broken you.

Once during a particularly nasty meltdown, you'd spent the better part of an hour nervously pacing to and fro, hand to your mouth. Jigen had quickly become used to what he referred to as your "little moments", one of your sleepless nights. He's not familiar enough with any branch of pyschiatry to properly identify whatever shaky madness seems to possess you every now and then. He figures its only natural, with the amount of new trauma being introduced into your life.

It was best to stay calm, not that he had a problem doing that. Be the sensible one in the moment, although he was often serving in that role anyways. You're one of the more naive, fragile clients he's sworn to protect under contract. It's easy for Jigen to tell that you aren't suited for the life of shadiness and criminal activity your dear dad seems to have emerged himself in.

"You alright?" he asks, standing guard by the bedroom door.

Smiling because knowing if you didn't, you'd instantly burst into tears, you look in Jigen's direction. "No."

He doesn't invite you to elaborate on it any further. That doesn't matter because you'll just talk out loud to yourself while he watches silently.

"It's too much. For me. Maybe not for you, so you don't know how it feels, but for me it is. I can't escape it. You can't escape any of this, can you?" You bite the inside of your cheek. Stressed, you tear some hear down from your loose bun, freezing in place momentarily. "I didn't even ask for any of this to happen. I didn't want this to happen? What the fuck did I even do to deserve any of this?"

For just a moment, Jigen pities you. Because despite how crazy you look in the moment, eyes wide and teary, and fingers closing into angry firsts, for what it's worth, you're right. There's no crime, no blood on your hands. You've done nothing deserving of countless assassins and death threats and bounties on your head. It was all on that beloved head of the family business that you spoke little of and saw less and less of. In fact, now that he thought of it, the only time Jigen had ever seen you and your father in the same room, was when he'd officially met you in the office those months back.

You sit down on the bed. You put your face in your hands. And can't help but cry. Just like always, you cry hard, and Jigen never really knows what to do about it.

Between sobs, you still seem to find shaking words, curses even, at your father, at your life, at yourself.

"I'm alone. There's no one."

Jigen doesn't know why but that seems to resonate with him. Just a little bit. Because that part, he is familiar with. Familiar with the feeling, that is. Of not being able to trust anyone. Of truly and honestly having no one.

Still, awkwardly, he works up the courage to make his way across the room, to sit on the end of your bed with you. His gun was still in his hand. Even in moments like this, he knows not to let his guard down.

Your hand suddenly grabs his shoulder. He looks at you, silently.

"Give me your gun," you tell him, voice still shaking, hand still shaking on him.

"No." Jigen's jaw sets as he watches you warily.

Your hand reaches over him, over his lap. Your palm brushes over the back of his hand. His grips on his gun tightens in case you try to take it from him. You don't. Instead, your fingers wrap around his wrist. You bring his arm up, and slowly, lean forwards. Your other hand goes to press against his hand. You shut your eyes. And force Jigen to put his gun to your head.

His finger completely leaves the trigger and he holds his breath as you speak, softly.

"Kill me. Please. I want you to do it. No one else."

Although it's not the best bet, Jigen tries to reason with you. "I'm being paid to make sure that doesn't happen," he reminds you. The usual flat gruffness seems to leave his voice in favor of a gentler tone he rarely uses.

Tears were still rolling down your face as you shake slightly with sobs. You've stopped trying to regain any sort of composure or dignity. He's seeing you at your weakest and you don't care.

"I-I'll pay you double to do it. I don't care. This is all too much for someone like me. I can't do this anymore, Jigen. I'm sorry."

Your promise is absolute bullshit, born out of desperation that he can see right through. No amount of begging in that moment could have convinced him to pull that trigger. Your life ending means his contract ends, and no more pay. At least, that's the reason Jigen mainly wants to focus on. But there was something else too, repulsing him from giving in to your pleading. Because...even if he wasn't being paid to ensure your safety, he knew he still would have found himself caring about whether you lived or died.

Slowly, to not send you any further down your spiral, Jigen pulls the gun away. To his relief, you let him, although your hands still slip down his arms, to the crook of his elbow. All of the sudden your exhausted, the outburst of emotion proving too much for you to continue. All the sudden, you regain your clarity, and you fucking hate yourself for what you just tried to do--for what you just tried to convince Jigen to do to you.

How could you even think of doing that?

What in the hell was wrong with you?

Jigen lets you fall into his chest, still crying. Your fingers dig harshly into his arm. He finds it to be a pitiful sight, but knows better than to comment on it. Instead, he chooses to awkwardly put an arm around you, in an attempt to offer some sort of solace to you. After a few moments, the soft cries coming from you came to a slow stop and the little shakes that came with your sobs started to subside. Still feeling awkward, Jigen attempted to lay you back onto your bed, on your side, still unmade from when you'd been attempting to sleep some hours earlier. When he goes to pull away, your arms stay tight around his, keeping him down with you.

Not really knowing what to do, Jigen remains still.

"(Y/N)?" he tries after a few minutes.

No response. Somehow, you've already dozed off, arms still around his. Not wanting to wake you, Jigen sighs and leans his head back into the pillow. Even though you're asleep, he continues to keep a steady grip on his gun, laying at your side as he still watched the door, waiting and listening for any possible threat.

It's easy for Jigen to admit that he prefers the nights when you don't get like this. But with how much shit you have to deal with, it makes sense for your nerves to fry every once in awhile. As long as you squealing yourself out to the point of complete emotional exhaustion ends in you snuggling into his arm and not putting a bullet in your head, he really doesn't care how you deal with it all.

Your episodes go as quick as they come. That's the unusual upside of them. Although they're intense, they're brief, and usually temporarily remedied by a night's rest or some material item. It's like the day that follows them, you're a completely new person. You don't bring it up, so Jigen wisely chooses not to ever bring it up the next day either. It's a silent understanding between the two of you.

With how bad the most recent episode had been, with your sudden expression of suicidal thoughts and borderline attempt, Jigen couldn't have, in good faith, denied your simple request to go out for just a couple of hours. Maybe some window shopping and dinner and that's it. Under any other circumstance he'd shut you down. But just this once, he lets his judgement slip. That, and he wouldn't have minded getting some fresh air either.

Despite how well this job, protecting you 24/7, pays...he finds himself often missing the freedom he'd sacrificed to dedicate himself to it.

He also made you swear, before leaving the house, that you would listen to him unconditionally. A moment of hesitation or questioning him would easily cost you your life without the cover a house he was familiar with could give.

Jigen had let you pick the restaurant, something he originally thought he'd regret. Surprisingly enough, despite how immature and casual you were, you still had somewhat refined tastes. You end up picking a five star steakhouse. There's a "weapons prohibited" sign near the front, which Jigen willfully ignores. You find this incredibly funny.

For what it was worth, Jigen seemed to enjoy himself, sitting across from you.

He was even in a good enough mood to agree to going on a short walk after dinner.

Once he was outside, however, his usual stony frown returns. With him at your side, the few people still walking out an about on the street seemed to automatically cross the road. At first, you thought it was funny, but then you find yourself growing somewhat...distressed. His aggression and alertness is extremely warranted, and actually needed with this many potentially dangerous strangers around. But you started to feel like maybe it wasn't worth going out at all, when you felt how stiff and tensed the gunman was at your side. The tension seems to spread to you like an infection. The smile disappears off your own face and Jigen could tell you were starting to get anxious.

Before he can suggest turning around and heading back to the house, a clear gunshot rang out and something whizzed past your head.

Jigen spots the source--a man hidden off in the brush on the side of the walkway across the street, holding a gun.

Jigen’s arm wrapped around you, pulling you close to his chest. You felt the bristly hair on his face scratch over your skin as he leans forwards and his arm suddenly extends fully. The gun in his hand goes off only once, but it’s all he needs. The other man drops to the ground almost instantly as you tremble in his arms. Rustling comes from the underbrush, and it comes alive with the faces of men who would do anything to see you dead.

Jigen doesn't give you much time to fully observe the writhing of the bushes. He starts to pull you in the direction of the nearest building--a church nearby.

"Inside. Now," he says, voice fierce as his arm stayed firm around you and he practically dragged you up the stairs of the church.

He bashes the door open with his shoulder, kicking it shut hard behind him. He ducks down slightly, bringing you down with him as bullets spray through the windows. Jigen reaches out to grab the nearest church pew, pulling it over and pushing it up against the door. It would hold them back, but not for long.

Your heads still ringing and fuzzy. Still, keeping your head ducked and staying low to the ground with him, you manage to make your way down the aisle with him. His hand grips at your arm tightly, urging you to hurry. You realize at the end of the aisle at the front of the church was a coffin. It was open and empty, thank God, but something in you still sinks when you realize what Jigen's plan is. Still, it's smarter than hiding between or under the pews and offered more coverage.

Jigen's hand grasp firmly around your waist, lifting you into it. You sit up, looking at him fearfully.

"Give me your coat," he demands.

You barely have time to shrug it off. Your arm extends as Jigen yanks the coat off your body. You watch him find an unbroken church window, off to the side. You don't understand what he's doing until he puts an elbow, protected by your jacket through the window. The glass shatters around his arm, but he seems unfazed, shaking it off before tossing your jacket out of it, purposefully hooking the sleeve on a jagged piece of glass still in the frame so that it was impossible to ignore.

So it looks like we escaped out the window. Smart.

Jigen ducks down to avoid the second wave of gunfire coming into the church. With ease, he jumps into the coffin on top of you.

"Get down."

You obey without second thought. As you flatten yourself down into the velvety interior, Jigen ducks down, shutting the lid as he went, flooding the inside with complete darkness. Your breath catches in your throat as his arms wrap around you, hooking under your back. Even with the limited space he had to work with, Jigen managed to switch positions with you. Still terrified, you lay on top of him, head pressed to his chest, listening to his own heart pound.

"What if there was a dead body in here?" you ask, voice hushed and breaking.

Jigen shushes you. "If you don't quiet down, there'll be another one in here soon enough."

You decide it's wise to shut your mouth and shove the disgust to the back of your mind. He's the last one to give a fuck about hiding inside of a coffin, considering how often he causes death and flirts with it. You lower your head once more, resorting back to pressing yourself as close as humanely possible to him with the intent of trying not to touch any of the inside of the coffin. You also wanted to make yourself as small as possible in hopes that if any stray bullets hit the casket, maybe they wouldn't hit you inside.

Jigen still feels you trembling against him. Your heart doesn’t stop pounding. His knee presses between your legs, maybe on accident, maybe on purpose, you’re not sure. You've still got handfuls of his dress shirt clenched in your fists. Your grip only tightens.

“Can we change positions again? This is kinda awkward for me…” You whisper to him, face burning red. You’re happy that it’s so dark he wouldn’t be able to see. He's not the type to tease, but you didn't want to strain your relationship with him knowing that after this he was going to be on double lockdown when it came to being near you.

“No. I need to be able to aim if they get smart and move the lid. Now keep your head down.” His hand moves from the small of your back to the back of your head, pressing your face down into his chest.

The gunfire finally ceases.

That's not a good thing.

Jigen's arm shifts, gun ready in his other hand, pointing straight up. You imagine his head angled up as he stares fiercley into the pitch blackness. With your face pushed into him, ear up against his chest, you listen to his breathing, feeling the rise and fall of him beneath you. It steadies, very slowly and gradually your own breathing starts to mimic his. Your eyes fall half shut as you give a slight sigh.

Somehow, even as you're laying with Jigen in a literal coffin, you feel safe. Like death won't reach you. Like you could live forever as long as he was here, every inch of him pressed against you, arm wrapped around you tightly.

His hips push against yours slightly as his legs stretch out to ease the stress on his back.

The heat in your face seems to spread down your neck. It's impossible not to think of it, not to think of him in a...certain way.

Jigen's too focused on listening intently to what's going on outside the casket. He catches the muffled murmurs of the hitmen. He can also hear their faint footsteps as they patrol around the church. He holds his breath, praying that his diversion would work. Apparently, this group of men seemed to be rather dense. Not one of them got close enough to the coffin to investigate--it seemed like they had all been drawn off to the side, to the window Jigen had put his elbow through.

Soon all the noise ceases.

For your safety, Jigen patiently stays down.

"They're gone," he eventually tells you.

"Wait!" you say, a bit frantically. "N-Not yet."

He looks back down from the direction of the top of the casket, instead in the direction of your voice.

"Wh-" he starts before he's silenced by your lips on his.

To be fair, with no light, you had missed the first time, hitting the corner of his mouth instead. Quickly, embarrassed, you'd tried again, actually finding his lips the second time. And to your complete surprise, Jigen kisses back. His beard prickles over your skin, nose pushed against yours briefly.

You suddenly pull away, inhaling sharply to catch your breath "T-This isn't part of your contract, right? I don't wanna do this if you don't have a choice."

His answer is quick and simple, as usual. "No. It's not." And then his hand pushed up firmer against the back of your head, so he could kiss you again. The noise of surprised is muffled against his lips. Even with your eyes open, you can't see shit. So you close them. What's the harm?

The temporary loss of vision seemed to increase the feeling of his touch, the smell of him, the soft noise from both of you. His rough fingers trace down your neck to find your blouse. Jigen starts to pop open the buttons, other hand tracing down your side in order to reach the hem of your skirt. He yanks it up, far over your ass so he could start tearing down your stockings. You could feel him digging into your thigh and your face burns hotter as you struggle to catch your breath in combined anticipation and arousal.

“You don’t seem fazed at all by the fact that we’re in a fucking coffin,” you bring up to Jigen the moment he stops kissing you, feeling his lips brush over your skin. “Not my first time," he says, like it's nothing at all. The hand he'd used to pull down your stocking moves back up, between your hips and his so he can get to his belt. Quickly, he unbuckles it. You feel his wrist shift up against you, rubbing with every movement. A soft moan slips from you.

"Take it easy," he says, but the amusement in his voice doesn't go over your head.

Blushing in the dark, you search for an excuse. "Do you know how long it's been since I've been able to do this type of thing with anyone?" It's impossible with you always around."

He leans closer, voice dropping in volume slightly. "Well maybe I can remedy that." His breath his hot on your ear and you shiver as he presses a kiss to your jaw.

"I-I wouldn't mind," you admit almost too quickly for your own liking. "Doing this type of thing with you."

Deep down, you've always been attracted to him, just a little bit. Even from the very beginning, when the mere sight of him had scared you, it was impossible to ignore the hints of attraction in the back of your mind. His status as your protector when everyone else, including your own father, had failed you, makes him even harder to not think of in a lustful, wanting way. That, and you're sure he's the only one you can trust nearly enough to get intimate with at this point anyways. You suspect that any hook ups outside of him would probably be with someone who planned to shoot you in the head the morning after.

"Who said we're gonna do anything at all?"

"Stop teasing me," you whine.

The hand with his gun in it moves to the small of your back. It's strange that you don't feel an ounce of fear, even with the barrel pressing up against your spine every now and then as your hips shift on his, in sync with the movement of his lips on yours once more. Jigen kisses along your neck, teeth digging lightly into the sensitive skin so he could leave marks every now and then.

"Do you think God can see us sinning right now?" you suddenly joke, finding the setting of your little hook up with him too humorous not to bring up, a bit of a dumb smile on your face.

Jigen scoffs. "After all I've seen, there is no God. Now take off your panties."

You can't help but shake your head at his usual pessimism, finding it more funny than anything else. Still, you obey. Your hips shift up against his as your thumbs push beneath the waistband of your underwear and start to bring it down your legs to join your rolled down stockings.

"Just because I agreed to listen to you while we were out. Otherwise I'd make you work for it."

"Mhm, sure," he says skeptically. His hand moves from your head to your waist, bringing you closer to his body.

There wasn't much space to move around in the casket, but you didn't really mind. Jigen may not have believed in any God, but you're a hundred percent sure that you're seeing God as he starts fucking you. You take in a sharp breath before starting to gingerly move your hips with his. He feels good, but you worry that he's not getting the same amount of pleasure out of it. At least, you were worried until he found the perfect angle to thrust into you, and all the sudden you couldn't even form a coherent thought.

"Oh my..." you hold back a moan, fingers tightening in his shirt. "F-Fuck-"

The heat of your breath on his skin seemed to further encourage him. His pace quickens and you cry out again, his name, heavy and slow, rolling off your tongue. Once, maybe on accident, his usual cold facade slips and he refers to you affectionately between heated breaths and moans. Doll. That's what he called you. And it'd been enough to nearly make you cum on the spot. The sort of thing you'd fall asleep, smiling, and thinking about.

"J-Jigen," you murmur against his skin, tensing slightly as you felt your climax coming on. "I'm so close, please..."

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, hands crossing and fingers threading through his hair. He kisses you, hard, as you cum, your moans muffled by his lips. Your fingers tighten against his scalp and his hat starts to slip off. Your curse, softly, eyes squeezed shut as he continues fucking you through your orgasm. You can't tell if Jigen's chasing his own high, or if he's trying to make yours better. Why not both? It's hard to care when he's making you feel this good. You don't even care that he doesn't pull out.

"Shit," he curses, breathless as he shifts your hips off yours.

"Take it easy," you manage, the slightest of smiles on your face, head pressed to his chest. "I'm on birth control."

You're not sure how he doesn't remember that when he's literally watched you take it consistently for as long as he's been employed to protect you. He probably never expected to end up intimate with you in the first place, so there wasn't much of a point to paying attention to details like that. There's a thump--Jigen's head hitting the back of the casket with relief as he breathes out, heavily.

You stretch out on top of him. You might have imagined it, but you swear that you can feel his hand on your arm, thumb slowly stroking over your skin in some semblance of affection.

"Kinda ironic that we hid in a coffin and didn't die, huh?" you ask him, voice quiet.

His hand leaves your arm so he can start pulling his pants back up fully and buckle his belt. "Let's get you home before you blow a fuse thinking too hard about it."

What he's really worried about is the men who'd been trying to kill you earlier circling back once they lost the trail that was never there in the first place. However, he wasn't going to be the one to bring that up to you. Not now when you're finally smiling and joking with him lightheartedly, oblivious to the danger returning, and not trembling in pure terror against him.

You roll your eyes but began to shift your skirt back down to cover your ass. Your finger reaches down to hook the elastic of your underwear, bringing them back up along with your stockings. As you busied yourself with trying your best to get your clothes back on, Jigen reached up with a free hand to slowly pop open the lid on the casket. In his other hand, his gun was ready. You didn't notice that. You were much too focused on buttoning up your blouse to the best of your ability.

He was the first to sit up, keeping you pressed close to his chest in case there was anyone taking aim.

To his relief, there was not a single other soul in the church. You let out a sigh, smiling up at him. Something about evading your imminent death always makes you so cocky.

"Don't look so pleased," he warns you, his usual gruffness returning as he gets up and out of the coffin. "We're not out of the woods yet."

You sit up completely, hands on his shoulders as he grabs you by the waist to lift you up out of the casket. You bend over for just a moment to adjust your stocking. You yelped as Jigen glanced around the church once more before suddenly grabbing you by the arm and starting to pull you along once more.

You know better to complain. The guy's got some killer instincts and if he feels like something's off or wrong, it probably is. Instead, you bite your tongue and do your best to keep up with him.

Under the cover of night, he managed to hurry you back to the house relatively unharmed. You hadn't realized that you'd stayed out so late with Jigen. He seemed less than pleased about having to navigate with you through the dark. In the dark, you can't see someone taking aim. And in the dark, he can't shoot back nearly as well.

Still, even though the night was terrifying, it was more depressing reentering the house. You cast a somewhat downcast look in the direction of the ornate front door. Jigen shouldered it shut, locking it immediately. You winced internally as it closed. The chance of it opening again for the purpose of a casual outing anytime soon again was about zero...Especially after what had happened this time. You'd be surprised if Jigen ever let you set foot on a sidewalk ever again.

You hate to admit, that even though the outing had ultimately gone downhill and involved a terrifying shootout...you would have done it again. And again. As long as it meant you'd end up in that casket with Jigen once more, with his hands roaming your body. It was fun. And you'd be lying if you weren't praying that it would happen again. Maybe not in a coffin this time, maybe not in a fucking church of all places. But maybe in your bed the next time. That would be something else.

The thought of it was enough to make you forget your sadness momentarily. Jigen notices the change in your expression as he leads you to your room, so close behind you that you could feel the heat of his breath on his neck. He'd told you before he only followed so closely behind you in order to keep you from getting shot in the back while keeping an eye on what laid ahead. It doesn't really matter to you. You enjoy his closeness now instead of feeling discomforted by it.

He's keen as he checks every single dark corner of every single hall he passed through with you. He's quiet, listening for any breathing or the click of a gun's safety coming off.

You make it safely to your room. You linger against the closed, locked door, watching Jigen as he combed through your room. You're relieved that so far, despite the numerous times he's checked your room for intruders, he's never found any. This place was like the last stronghold that those bastards hadn't been able to reach, hadn't been able to infect with their poison.

He nods at you and you go to sit on the side of your bed, tilting your head up to look at him.

"I'm gonna go sweep the house. Stay put." His words are back to being as gruff as usual. As he starts to turn away, he briefly nudges your chin with a thumb and a bent forefinger.

You can't help but smile, just a little bit at the affectionate gesture. His hand withdraws quickly before you have the chance to say anything. He leaves the room. You hear the click of the lock on the outside of the door. A sigh of relief escapes you as you go to lay down fully on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.

With nothing better to do, as usual, you wait with bated breath for Jigen to return.

As much as you've grown comfortable with him, it makes the extremely rare moments you get alone a bit nervewracking.

You listen, quietly. It's actually less relieving to not hear any gunshots. What if he missed someone? You'd rather he kill an intruder than not find one at all. But then you remember that he's Jigen fucking Daisuke, and if missing someone during a sweep of the house isn't in the job description, it's not happening. That type of shit is way under his pay grade, anyways. There's no reason to doubt his skills.

When he returns, he comes back with both hands full, his gun in one hand and a full glass in the other.

"Got you a drink," he says roughly, shouldering the door shut and locking it once more before turning to you.

It's rare for him to get you a drink, much less let you drink in the first place. Protecting you still comes as a two way street, where both of you need to be on your guards. He'd made that very clear to you when he first started working. Jigen rarely had drinks anymore either, considering how difficult the job was. Usually, he'll just have a cigarette to calm any nerves.

But apparently, today had gone bad enough to warrant a drink to ease the pain of it all. That, and maybe that look on your face when he'd shut the front door was too...depressing not to attempt to remedy in some way. Once again. Something else that wasn't exactly in his contract.

You sit up, back pressed to the headboard as he makes his way over to you and offers you the drink. You take it from his hand. You're not nearly as shaky anymore as you were when he was hustling you through the night, but the tremors aren't completely absent yet. You take a couple sips to test it out before deciding you liked it, and taking a few fuller drinks. It's a shame the two of you couldn't drink together more often. He wasn't at all that bad at making a decent drink.

Jigen leans down before you. "Your blouse is uneven."

Before you could say anything, he adjusts the buttons for you, fitting them to their correct holes. You take another sip from the glass, ice clinking.

"Thanks, Jigen."

"No problem."

You look down at the glass in your hand and suddenly smile. "You lied to me, by the way."

"Hm?" He frowns at you.

"Awhile ago, you said all you were good at was shooting. That it was all you were good for and you were useless aside from that." His head tilts slightly as you continue on. "And that's a lie. Because you obviously could make one hell of a bartender."

He doesn't smile, but at least the frown is gone. Which might as well have been a smile for someone like Jigen. You can tell, even if it's not showing, that the compliment means something to him. That you remembering what he'd said about himself offhandedly months ago meant something to him.

That you mean something to him.

#nsfw #one shot #suicide attempts tw #lupin iii #jigen daisuke #jigen daisuke x reader

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

i like you

goemon ishikawa xiii x reader

nsfw

5.2k words

It's like that thing stupid people say.

If someone's mean to you it means they like you or whatever it was.

Only instead of some snotty nosed dipshit little boy on a playground pulling on some girl's pigtails, it's you messing with a samurai. You weren't exactly mean to Goemon, per se. You just liked to give him a little bit more shit than every one else. Obviously, all that special attention doesn't go unnoticed by Jigen and Lupin, who only stand by, entertained and watching. Goemon seemed dense to it, like it all went straight over his head. He wouldn't engage with it, which made you even more eager to keep it up, hoping to one day finally get him to snap back.

You wonder if he knows that he's only feeding the fire in you that continually begins to crave his attention more and more.

The more he ignores you, the more desperate you become.

Even you'd admit that it's almost pathetic.

Almost. Not enough to make you stop.

Initiating an actual conversation with him just seemed so...scary and intimidating. You just knew it would be awkward or maybe you'd say something stupid and he'd hate you for it. It's all irrational worry of course, major insecurities that are obvious to everyone in the room except you. In your mind, it's easier to keep doing stupid, petty shit to him that he doesn't seem to understand the purpose of.

When you saw an opportunity, you'd take it no questions asked.

And that applies even when it comes to his Zantetsuken.

You don't know what possessed you to do it.

Maybe it was because for some reason you couldn't stand being alone in a room with him. It made you antsy, nervous, anxious to do something, anything, to distract yourself before certain thoughts started surfacing in your brain.

Goemon's used to some teasing from you, maybe a finger in the ribs here and there in an attempt to get him to flinch, but he certainly wasn't prepared when you suddenly lunged in his direction.

Suddenly, you jerked the sword away from Goemon's hand. For the briefest moment, he froze up. The smile almost faded from your face. It seemed like he was somewhat stunned that you of all people had caught him off guard. He went to reach for it again and just like before, you feigned giving it up before once again pulling away, taking a step to the side. Playfully, you cock your head to the side with a bit of a smirk you knew was all too irritating. Looks like all that time usually spent with Lupin was rubbing off on you a bit.

Goemon lunged, face stonier than ever with a new sort of concentration. Luck seemed to be on your side, as you were once again able to out maneuver him, ducking away from his arms. The samurai looked up at you, eyes intense.

"(Y/N)..." he said slowly, his way of warning you.

But now it's all too entertaining for you to give it up. That and the way he'd said your name had sent goosebumps traveling up your arm and a terrifying chill down your spine.

You giggled as he made another grab for the Zantetsuken. He'd actually come pretty close that time. However, soon there were only so many ways you could sidestep Goemon or dodge his grabs. Just as usual, you once again became predictable to him. That, and it caught you off guard when he suddenly struck out with a powerful leg, sweeping your own out from underneath you.

You yelped as you began what was going to be an extremely ungraceful descent to the floor. But Goemon's arm shot forwards, out around you, to catch you. Breathless, you gaze up at him, his hair curtaining his face. Your eyes flickered from his eyes, to his lips, back to his eyes. You can't tell what he's thinking. You never can. But in that moment, you know exactly what you're feeling.

Usually you can ignore it, push it down, and turn it into some obnoxious energy instead. But you can't resist this time.

Shifting the sheathed blade from both hands to just one, you suddenly kissed him, free hand pressing to his cheek.

And the biggest shock that came was that he didn't pull away.

His hand reached up to yours, the one still clasped around the sword. You expected him to take his Zantetsuken back. But he didn't, not quite yet. He seemed more keen on continuing to kiss you, before breaking away. His lips remained a couple inches from yours, like he was debating leaning back in once more.

You're still breathless as he seems to make up his mind. Goemon pulls you back up, setting you steady on your feet. You wondered if your legs were shaking visibly. They sure felt weak. Before you even have time to utter a word, much less catch your breath, Goemon had taken his prized blade gently from your hand. His back was to you and he was gone from the room in moments, like he'd never been there at all. You could only stumble, starstruck and stunned, over to the counter, leaning against it, wondering if you'd imagined the whole thing. Were you disillusioned and desperate enough to even pull off such an elaborate daydream? It'd felt so real--you'd felt his slender fingers against yours, you knew you had, you'd-you'd tasted him too-

You shake your head, bringing a palm to your head.

"...W-what the fuck??" you whispered out, to yourself.

The last thing you wanted to do was chase after Goemon to confront him. It felt right to give him some space. Or-or maybe, it was you that needed the space. All you knew was the thought of his elegant face was enough to make you feel like you were overheating. And it felt like keeping what had just happened to yourself was going to make your head explode. You needed to talk it out with someone who had their head on straight. You didn't want to go to Lupin about it, he'd be the least help of all. So that narrows down your options to...Jigen.

You manage to catch him near the pool table, drink in one hand and stick in the other.

"What am I doing wrong?" you sighed to him, once you'd explained what had just happened, resting your chin in one hand as you leaned upon the edge of the table. "Why does he make me...feel this way? Like I'm fucking crazy. Y'know?"

The gunman had been generous enough to pour you a drink, one of his favorites, extra strong. Judging by the look on your face when you'd come up to him, he knew you desperately needed it to take the edge off.

Jigen shrugs, leaning his cue stick up against the pool table. Apparently your girl troubles are enough for him to put a pause to his game, which you find to be a mixture of flattering and humorous.

"It's Goemon," he eventually offers simply. "He's just...a little cold sometimes. You'll get through to him. Not with your usual bullshit though."

You bite the inside of your cheek, indenting it slightly. "I know, I know...you know how bad it blows to..." you struggle to find the right word. But it's right there in front of you. It always has been. So you say it, just for the sake of not shoving it to the back of your mind, just this once. "...to like someone this much and have no idea whether they're even capable of reciprocating? Or if they even want to?"

Jigen gives you a half smile, tilting his hat up with a thumb to give you a sympathetic look. "He's capable. Just give it more time..." He takes a sip of his own drink, apparently reconsidering his own advice. "You know what...I'm going to be straight with you, (Y/N), doll, I don't understand why you keep all that up. The teasing, and poking, like you're in grade school. It doesn't work. Not on him, at least. "

You nod at his words. It's an unfortunate truth, one you've refused to come to terms with for a long time. Usually, that tactic worked on people like Lupin. But Lupin was...easy for a lack of better words. Anything would have worked on him. Goemon's more...complex to figure out. In other words, harder to apparently flirt with. He gives you absolutely nothing to work with and you're no one-man show.

“I should just talk to him, straight up, y’know? He’s not one for this stupid high school drama type shit.”

“It’s not a half-bad idea. If it doesn’t work out, just use Lupin as you rebound.”

The eye roll from you is almost instant. “Jigen,” you say, giving him an exasperated look.

He shrugged with a bit of a smile, arm bumping yours as he goes to refill his glass. “Just tryin’ to help. If it all goes wrong and your ego gets bruised, Lupin can definitely fix that."

You cross your arms, turning in his direction, walking over to the bar close behind him. "Wait, why are you actually giving me decent advice?"

Jigen leans in. "Don't go tellin' anyone, but you're my friend, and this is the typa shit friends do, right?" He goes to pull a cigarette from his jacket pocket.

"Jigen..."

As his lighter flicks beneath his thumb, he mumbles around the cigarette between his lips. "And...Goemon just seems...off lately. I don't speak for him, but I wonder if he ever gets lonely, living the way he does."

You scoff as the smell of smoke starts to fill your nose. "He likes being alone, though."

For what seems like the millionth time, Jigen shrugs, which seemed to perfectly sum up the nature and entirety of the conversation. "Hey," he says, pinching his smoke between his fingers so he could speak clearer, "he's my best friend, even more than that at times, and I still have trouble figuring him out. And I've always been just fine with that--not needing to figure him out. That's just how we work. You two obviously don't work like that. So the best you can do is try to talk to him, talk it all out, I mean. Worst case scenario, he turns you down." The silence following seemed a little too harsh, even for the gunman. When he sees your face drop, he puts a solemn hand on your shoulder. "And you have to live with knowing your tongue was down his throat-"

You slap his hand off your shoulder in exaggerated shock, blushing almost instantly, all sort of despair forgotten for the moment. "JIGEN. There was absolutely no fucking tongue, it wasn't...it wasn't like that. He's not like that." And maybe that's why you liked Goemon so much. You fix Jigen with your gaze. "I feel like you of all people would know that."

He gives a bit of a laugh, taking a sip from the last of his slightly watered down drink. "'Course I do. I'm just givin' you a hard time. Take it easy. From what you told me, sounds like he likes you. Don't think too hard about it." His hand goes to yours, the one still holding the drink he made for you. He lifts it up higher to your lips. "Finish that. You're gonna need it. I think you might be on your own on this one."

Wisely, you take his advice, deciding to down the last of the whiskey. Jigen's hand thumps up against your back as he takes his leave. You wished that these stupid ass men would stop leaving you alone with your thoughts. Nothing good seemed to come from that.

Even after you'd been left alone at the bar with only your thoughts, you continued mulling over it all for several days after. It had taken awhile for the feeling of nausea and extreme anxiety that came with the thought of Goemon to mellow out to the point of mild discomfort and embarrassment that only kept you up at night for like ten minutes instead of the usual hour of tossing and turning. You knew eventually, you'd have to see him again. At least to clear this all up so you could stop feel awful. You felt like it wouldn't be fair to just...pretend like nothing had happened.

When you did finally work up the nerve to find him, he was in his usual spot--an empty room that nobody had really gotten around to furnishing, with some big windows that he liked to keep open. It was his favorite spot to meditate if he wasn't outside or somewhere else doing it. You almost hated to disturb the peace as you pushed open the door. But the last thing you needed during this was an audience.

He was sitting, cross legged, on his own, as usual, a cup of tea in his hands and his sheathed Zantetsuken laying across his lap.

He didn't even open his eyes as you made your way nervously to him. Standing before him, above him, felt awkward. For the sake of what you hoped was respect, you took in a breath and sat down in front of him, crossing your legs to mimic him. You tuck your hands in the space between your legs, not wanting to watch them shake nervously out in the open.

"Tea?" he simply asks, eyes still closed, which almost startles you out of your skin.

You take way too long to respond. "Uhm, no I'm good." You hope he can't hear the slight tremble in your voice. "Thank you, though. It's nice. The offer." Oh my God was it too late to get up and leave? What if you just knocked him unconscious now and left and then gaslit the shit out of him if he asked about it at all so he would think this was all just a dream that didn't happen?

But you don't do any of that. You're too frozen in your spot to even try it anyways.

All his silence does is somehow invite you to talk more.

"I wanted to...talk. About. Like, what happened. Earlier. The other day." Why is it so fucking hard to speak to him when you're not trying to mock him or tease him?

He sets his cup down on the ground at his side. "Is that why you have been avoiding me lately?"

Flushed beyond all hell, you cross your arms. "I-I wasn't avoiding you." It comes off as much too defensive. You take a breath in an attempt to calm yourself down. "It's...it's not like that."

Goemon presses on, steady as ever, completely unfazed. "It seems that way. I notice when you are gone."

Of course he would. You're usually so relentless in finding ways to pester and tease him. Every day as a matter of fact, like clockwork, like a ritual you couldn't bare to interrupt. Of course he'd notice if you just weren't around for a couple of days. You can't tell whether you want to find that flattering or embarrassing. You just didn't think he'd have brought it up so bluntly. But then again, this was Goemon you were talking to.

Still, you can't deny that it feels nice to have him notice your absence. Like you matter to him. Like he thinks of you. Like he cares. About you. Just a little bit.

You might be reading too much into it.

You take in another breath for confidence, feeling like now was the best time to address what you'd really come here for. "I didn't mean..." You take a second to think of a way to phrase your words. Of course he knows what you're talking about. How could he not? "...It was an accident. What I did. Earlier, I mean."

Finally, Goemon opens his eyes. His dark eyes fix on you, his full attention was on you. Instantly you feel like you're going to buckle under the pressure and the idea of bailing surfaces in your mind again. Somehow, you can see in his eyes, for once, and understand what he's thinking.

He knows you're lying to him

Instantly, you backtrack, already feeling guilty for trying.

"Or...maybe it wasn't, I don't know. I..." You shake your head. You bury your face into your hands for the sake of hiding the increasing rush of blood to your skin. "I don't know."

"Will it happen again?" Goemon asks.

You inhale a bit shakily, trying to think of a way to answer. "Do you wan another lie so this can go away or do you want what I'm actually thinking?" There was really no point to asking that question. Goemon was the type to seek the truth, constantly, even if it meant hurt or heartbreak or learning the worst of people. That was just his way. Yet, knowing this, you still hate hearing his answer.

"I would prefer to hear the truth, if you don't mind."

Of course you minded. You did. You really, really did mind. But it was too late now to back out of this, you reminded yourself for the thousandth time. And deep down, you'd rather he'd have the truth he'd asked for. He'd been so calm and...open that you felt it was what he deserved. And you weren't in much of a position to lie again.

You take a few moments, trying to carefully pick your next few words.

"I...I wouldn't mind if it happened again, I guess. I wanted it to happen." Your fingers clench tighter in your hair. "I liked it."

Goemon was quiet. Once again, the tension only grew with the silence. And once again, you find yourself entering the rather risqué "fuck it" mindset all too quickly. The type of almost suicidal like impulse that drove you to kissing him in the first place. And you didn't intend on stopping it.

It's now or never. All or nothing.

You lift your head from your hands.

Leaning forwards, you take his hand from his lap and suddenly move it to your chest, still blushing crimson red. He freezes, eyes widening slightly.

“What are you-“

“Look, Goemon," you said simply, forcing yourself to make sheepish eye contact with him, trying to keep Jigen's advice in mind to the best of your ability. Keep it simple. "I like you. A lot.”

“I...enjoy your company as well.”

Your hand has long stopped holding his, your fingers only lightly layered on top of his own. The heat from your face seems to spread in a wave throughout the rest of your body upon realization. He was keeping his hand there of his own will. Your felt lightheaded with a mixture of relief and pleasure when you feel his hand squeeze slightly.

Next thing you knew, you were kissing him again. But it's different this time. It's less spontaneous and scary and more...passionate and with purpose than anything else really. His arms are around you, Zantetsuken falling off his lap as he comes over top of you, and your back hits the floorboards, hands at his face. It rolled across the floor, knocking into the now abandoned cup of tea. Your hands leave his face to grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your body and head, throwing it off to the side.

His hands didn't go any lower than your chest. You hadn't realized that Goemon wasn't going to be as nearly bold or experienced as someone like Lupin, which was who you were used to. Especially when it came to women. You knew he leaned a little bit more towards men, meaning you'd have to be a bit more patient with him while he got more comfortable.

"You want to...? Right? Like this is happening?" You ask, breaking away from him momentarily.

He nods. "Yes," he tells you steadily, face as neutral as usual.

How does he maintain his composure when he's obviously as nervous as you are? Maybe you'd ask him for tips when all of this was over.

Instead, you busy yourself on pulling down your sweatpants. You'd come in here on a whim, before you could talk yourself out of it, so you weren't exactly dressed to impress. Not that it mattered to Goemon. That made you feel infinitely better. He has a very...non-judgemental air about him that makes you feel more confident being almost fully nude beneath him. By the time your waistband is far below your thighs, Goemon's lips are back on your skin.

One of your hands reach to hold up against the back of his head, fingers buried in his soft hair. Your other hand goes to push part of his kimono down his shoulder, exposing one of his arms. He freezes so briefly that you might have not even noticed it if you weren't pressed against him. Just like you're braving your way through your nervousness, he seems to be at odds with his usual shyness.

"Um, we can go slow, if you want," you try for the sake of relieving tension on both ends.

"I'm fine," is his only response against your skin. Like despite all his reservations he can't stop. Not now.

When your hands don't move any lower, too wary of making him freeze up again, Goemon starts to take the lead again. Relief falls over you as he unties the waist of his hakama. You busy yourself with kissing along the underside of his jaw, hearing the shift of fabric against his body and yours. He shrugs the other half of his kimono off. His skin is surprisingly soft on yours, despite the numerous scars scattered here and there. He's a brilliant warrior, but apparently decent skincare isn't lost on him. Hot.

At some point, the samurai grew bold enough to start shifting your underwear down, past your legs to join your sweatpants. Your breath shakes feeling his hand trace over your skin.

"Are you okay?" Goemon asks, apparently noticing your shakiness.

"Y-Yeah. I just..." It's easier to speak of your desires involving him when you don't have to look him in the eye. Your face buries back into his neck, eyes squeezed shut, as you murmur, just for him to hear, even if there's no one else in the room. "I just want you to make me feel good." Your face is burning red. Thank God you're eyes are shut and your face is jammed up into his neck, otherwise you would have seen how red his face got as well.

"If that is what you desire," he says, voice soft in your ear as either of his hands reach down to grasp at your hips, angling them better for himself, "I plan on delivering."

That sends another strong shiver down your spine.

He's slow and careful with you. You don't know if that's more for your sake or his, but either way, you feel extremely safe. His gentle words make you relax a little more and the tension leaves your muscles, allowing him to push deeper into you.

Your arms wrap around him tightly as the ground drags beneath your back. You brows draw together tightly as you moan into his neck, panting in between. His own soft grunts of effort were enough to make your head feel fuzzy. Your fingers gripped softly in his hair, your other hand clawing slowly down his back.

"Don't stop," you whisper to him, almost on the verge of begging.

And he doesn't.

Out of no where, a sudden fear of someone walking in on the two of you like this shoots through you. Your head goes back for just a moment in an attempt to catch a quick glance at the door. It's closed, thankfully, but you barely have time to acknowledge that before Goemon's hand grasps at your jaw, bringing your head back so his nose was barely touching yours.

"Be with me for the moment. Just me," he asks of you, softly. You have no choice but to comply, with the way he's looking at you.

You lift your head a little to meet his lips with a nod.

Usually it take a lot more to make you cum. With Lupin, there's always usually an intensive amount of foreplay and too many position changes to count. But with Goemon it's different. There's no purposeful roughness to him, no dirty words or sort of filth. You don't know how, but he makes sex feel pure. Lighter than air. Calming. It's a pleasant and welcome change for once, one that has you shaking beneath him more than just one time.

Maybe it helped that you were deeply and helplessly attracted to him, somewhere far past a crush but not as serious as obsessive infatuation. Not quite love, but somewhere in the middle ground. Tenderness, is what you would call this. Something that those who aren't him just can't seem to get the hang of when they're with you.

Even laying next to him, breathless, long after you've pushed him to his own much deserved climax, is better than any sort of sex with anyone else. The much needed release of tension is blissful enough.

His robes were still fixed loosely around himself as Goemon finally sat up beside you and reached off to the side for his tea. Still warm.

"How long do you plan on avoiding me after this?" he asks, voice level. You genuinely can't tell if he's joking around with you or being serious.

It's a joke, you think. He's not catty enough to bring something like that up maliciously, knowing your reasons behind it. He's making a joke. Poking fun at you. Teasing you back. You can't help but appreciate it, finding the humor in it, just a little bit as a smile appears on your face.

"Ten years. See you then," you mocked back, pulling up your panties and sweatpants over your still trembling legs, starting to get up to your feet.

To your complete surprise, Goemon's other hand shoots up to grab your wrist. Your eyes widen as he pulls you back down, harshly, which was shockingly out of character for him. Seemingly realizing his own strength, he lessens the amount of intensity in his grip and allows you to make the rest of the trip back onto the ground slowly. You watch him, stunned, on your knees at his side.

"Not so quickly. Stay a little longer." His head turns just slightly in your direction before his voice gets a little bit quieter. "Please?"

You let out a soft sigh, deciding to give in to his demand. You sit up slightly to shift your weight from your knees, so you could properly sit down. Doing so, you push your shirt up against your chest, pants still a little loose at your hips.

Confused, you tilt your head. "Why?" you asked him. You'd always imagined that he'd be the one to get awkward after all of this. Now your face is the one heating up and your heart is the one racing a bit faster. Not so great when you were still attempting to catch your breath.

Goemon casts a glance in your direction. "I meant what I said before. I enjoy your company." He hasn't let go of your wrist yet.

"Umm...I don't...really know what to say right now," you admit.

"You don't have to say anything at all." His legs cross again. He's returning to the same position you'd interrupted him in. His eyes close. "Just...sit with me. You might find it to your liking."

You can see a bit of heat in his skin, like all the sudden it's nerve wracking to speak to you. Goemon let go of your wrist, a little too quickly, like he'd just realized he was still holding it. When the quiet "cool guy" act leaves him, you suddenly feel a lot more willing to stick around. A bit of a smile makes its way onto your face as you settle down next to him.

With the shared awkwardness, it was weird at first, at least to you, maybe less so to him considering how much he liked quiet. Being alone and silent with him was...new to you. You'd never gone this long without initiating some sort of banter or poking at him or finding a way to playfully irritate him. Maybe it'd just been how you'd...dealt with your real feelings towards him for so long. Look at that! Forty seconds of sitting next to him and you were already having some breakthroughs.

You glance over at Goemon. His eyes were still closed. He seemed so...relaxed and natural. Like he didn't just absolutely fuck you into the floorboards. You wondered if he was thinking about that because you sure were.

Eventually, however, the stiffness leaves your body, especially your shoulders. He feels you relax against him. You mimic him and shut your eyes as the awkwardness subsides. His serenity seems almost contagious.

You reach the conclusion that Goemon's right.

This is kinda nice.

"So?" he eventually asks, startling you out of your trance like state.

You're caught off guard that he's the one to break the silence instead of you.

"Y'know it was nice," you said. But then you couldn't resist. "Just two besties sitting with their boobs out. Nothing better than that, right?"

Goemon just looks at you. You looks back, dead silent, already wishing you had just shut up and nodded.

I swear to God I can't go ten fucking minutes without ruining a moment.

You cleared your throat, standing up, still pressing your shirt to your chest with a single forearm. "Okay, bye, see you maybe. Only if you want to though. I still like you. We should do this again please. Okay. Bye."

And then you were gone before he could say anything else, hand reaching to hold the waist of your pants so they didn't fall down your legs on the way out.

Not like he really had anything productive to say to...well...that.

He shakes his head, but can't help but smile, just a little bit.

Admittedly, you're... kinda cute.

#nsfw #one shot #lupin iii #goemon ishikawa xiii #goemon ishikawa x reader

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

pearl strings strangle

lupin iii x reader

nsfw

6k words

All the planning in the world wasn't enough to outsmart Lupin.

It didn't matter that you'd specifically known tonight he'd be alone (which was why you'd chosen this night in the first place).

It didn't matter that you'd waited until you were sure he was sleeping.

It didn't matter that you'd broken in without tripping a single alarm, without making a single sound.

Because at the end of the day, when it comes between you and him, you'll always be more careless, more clumsy, inexperienced, and just plain dumb.

Oh how he loved that about you. Something about the way you were just so easy to figure out, to trick, manipulate, anything he wanted.

With how complicated situations involving Lupin usually get, it's a surprisingly refreshing break to only have you as an issue for tonight. No big supervillian. No insanely smart competition. No deadly assassin. No femme fatale. Just an amateur thief that he enjoyed absolutely fucking with, in every way that specific term suggested.

Lupin made you nervous in the best way and worst way possible.

The first time you'd come across him, it'd been purely accidental. It was supposed to be an easy job--some old, deaf, rich widow's house with wayyy too many riches laying around and not nearly enough locks and alarm systems to keep hands like yours off them.

You'd gotten to the safe first, but he'd caught you off guard, sneaking up behind you.

So, obviously, you'd punched him in the face and ran, already spooked as an amateur thief.

But he hadn't left you alone after that. Maybe the bruises your fist had left were something to remember you by, because the next morning you found a small package, filled with that old widow's diamonds and pearl strings. The ones you'd been after. You'd let the pearls slide between your fingers, staring down at them. You didn't have to guess who had left them, because he'd graciously signed the package, Lupin III.

You'd noted that he had incredibly clean handwriting for a literal lunatic. The second thing you'd noted was that somehow he knew where you lived.

And of course, him being Lupin III and you being oh so dense and oh so you, it could only escalate from there.

Once you'd run into him on the streets. The idea that he had...well...a life outside his legendary thievery was somewhat foreign to you. Just seeing him in daylight hours, standing before you, larger than life, felt unreal. You'd been starstruck to say the least, stunned, and unable to shrug out of his line of sight and disappear into the crowd, away from him. He was bad news. And it was embarrassing to meet him once more, when you'd least expected it. The bruise on his face your first had left was still in the process of fading away.

You could only freeze up as he approached you and proposed dinner of all things, hands casually tucked in his pockets, trademark smirk on his face. It was like your brain wouldn't function. You hadn't been quick enough to say no, which of course, according to Lupin, might as well have been a yes. If there was ever a window of time to get away from him, it had closed long ago. Probably around the same time he had an arm around your shoulders.

Sitting across from him that night, you'd tried to convince yourself that this was all to help you gather intel on him. To really understand what you might be up against in your uncertain future. This business is risky and you don't want to underestimate him. And it might be easier to manipulate him if you stayed through this "date". He'd taken most of the loot you'd gone after that one night, right? Why not try to take the opportunity to steal it back from him?

But being young and new to this game, Lupin's game, your heart wasn't completely in it and he could see right through you. Above all, his charm seemed to cut right through your decently high defenses. You forget to be cold. You forget to lie and dodge his questions. You forget not to be you.

And sure enough, the next morning, you woke up in a bed that wasn't yours with the taste of him and the champagne from the night prior still in your mouth, red reminders of his teeth and tongue on your skin, and his name signed on your thigh. His smeared name anyways. Whatever marker he'd used hadn't held well when it came to the matter of friction and bed sheets.

Somehow, as you gathered your clothes, glancing around the unfamiliar room, you told yourself that this absolutely would not happen again. It's scary that you feel something other than shame. It's something you can't exactly put your finger on. A sort of smugness? Something of that sort? You told yourself that you were better than this, above him, and that he wasn't even all that hot-STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM!

Apparently, you'd jinxed yourself, because it did end up happening again.

You couldn't help it--you couldn't help yourself. He's like the god of a trade you have yet to fully master. How were you not supposed to be flushed and flustered and so easily overwhelmed by his attention?

You know it's all bad. Call it manipulative, call it toxic, call it a power imbalance at work.

But every night in your head you can only hear him call your name on repeat. Like a broken record you want to spin forever.

Sometimes you'll find your clarity. You'll focus on why you'd sat down on that date those months ago in the first place.

Focusing on stealing back what should have been yours from the beginning was harder than anything else you had ever planned before. It wasn't like any regular heist. It's not normal people you're dealing with, you're dealing with Lupin III. And the thought of that made you even more nervous as the days dragged on, marching almost too quickly to the night you had planned to break into his very home.

Breaking into where Lupin was staying (at least for now), was easier than expected. You could only be relieved that your sources had been correct and that both his gunman, Jigen Daisuke, and his samurai, Goemon Ishikawa, were absent. But they're not the ones that are larger than life to you. They're not the ones that have permanently found a place in your thoughts.

Of course, you'd known better than to come unarmed, even if both of his muscle weren't hanging around. Lupin was still very much armed. Still, it was almost all too easy, like Lupin had practically left the windows of the lavish manor unlocked, they were so easy to pick open. The sense of accomplishment of even getting far enough to step foot on the carpet drained quickly as you crept through the house. Your hands began to get shaky.

You'd picked out his room from a distance, based on the fact that the light in that specific window had stayed on the longest. Chances were the safe was in his room, closest to him so he could guard it. And if it wasn't? Then thank God because that meant you could get the hell out and look for it without being in the same room with him.

Just get it over with. Just get it over with. Be quiet. Breathe soft. Walk gently. Don't get caught. Simple.

But despite your precautions, your longterm planning, and your stealth, he'd known.

Lupin knew you were coming.

Because you'd only been creeping around in what you'd identified as his room for about a minute before the lights turned on. A soft whimper had left you as the barrel of Lupin's gun pressed to the small of your back. Flinching, you could feel the heat of his breath on your neck.

In the corner of your eyes, with the lights on, you'd realized that there was only a bunch of pillows under the sheets of the bed, mimicking the shape of his body.

He'd tricked you.

And once again, Lupin had beaten you.

You were naive, you were inexperienced, but above all else, you were fucking stubborn and you wouldn't stop until there was a bullet in your head or your spine, whichever came first. You knew there was about a 50/50 chance of Lupin actually putting one in either over those places. So maybe the fact that you'd had your little moments of weakness with him were ultimately beneficial if it made him hesitate before pulling the trigger. Lord knows you would have hesitated too, with the way he lived in your mind.

A disappointed "tch" comes from him. "Come on, (Y/N), you're making this too easy now..." He taunts you with a bit of a sneer.

For some reason, his teasing bites worse than anything else.

"Sorry," you responded coldly, before promptly elbowing him in the stomach.

He stumbled back and the gun was off you for just a few seconds--all you needed to turn the tables. Before Lupin could regain his balance, you charged at him, tackling him to the ground. You could barely get your hands on his arms to pin him before he was fighting back. His knee pushed up into your stomach in an attempt to throw you off, one of his hands gripping at your own arm as the other went to aim the gun. Your heart dropped and you found the strength to lunge at his hand, knocking the gun out of it and to the floor. You flinch as it hits the floor, expecting it to go off. It laid motionless near his hip. Lupin took the opportunity to grab underneath your arm with his newly freed hand, his knee shifting lower so that it pressed between your legs, maybe on purpose, maybe on accident. You're not sure, but your face heats up suddenly. You're too focused on the gun to try and pin his leg back down.

Quickly, Lupin throws off your balance, grunting as he flipped you over, so that he could pin you to the floor in his place.

Desperation and adrenaline fueling you alone, you managed to kick his gun aside, sending it far out of his reach. Knowing that for just a few seconds, he couldn't put a bullet in you gave you enough courage to try and wrestle him off. You managed to get your arm free from his grip, reaching for your own gun, at your side. You barely had the chance to point it at him before he tore it from your grip. Leaning downwards on you with his full weight, shifting your gun in his hands, Lupin grinned. His knee grinds once more between your thighs--definitely on purpose this time.

"Did you plan on shooting me with the safety on?" he asked, still breathless from the struggle, before giving a dismissive shake of his head. "You could never bring yourself to kill me, face it, babe."

Your brows contorted briefly with effort as you struggled beneath him. "I'm not a murderer. Just a thief. It's for self defense."

Realization dawns on his face. "You're not here for me. You're here for the jewels aren't you? Heh, women. Just can't resist the shiny stuff can you?"

"Get off me!"

"I thought I told you what would happen if I caught you trying to steal from me," Lupin said. You flinch harshly as he taps your forehead with the business end of your own gun. "Bad (Y/N), bad."

Before you even have the chance to snap back at him with some petty insult, he's grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, hauling you up to your feet in front of him with strength you didn't know he had. His grip remains tight near your throat and nervousness begins to creep into you.

"Look, I would have gotten everything from that old hag's house if you hadn't interrupted me!"

Lupin's brow cocks, and he's quiet for a moment, like he's trying to understand what you're saying. Realization sets on his face and he suddenly laughs. "Oh. You're still thinking about that, huh?" He pulls you closer. The barrel of the gun jabs into your stomach and your abdomen tightens as your breath quickens. His hands shifts from the collar of your shirt to properly grab your throat. "Let me give you some advice, honey--you fuck up a job? Move on. It'll do you good in the long run."

Outrage makes you forget your fear. "Maybe that works for you," you snap back, hotly, "with your endless fucking piles of cash and designer suits and cars ready to go, but I'm not you." You wondered if your inherent jealousy could have been made any more obvious in that moment.

"Would it kill you to take my advice?" Lupin asked, somewhat exasperated at your stubbornness.

Your jaw set.

"Yes."

Lupin's brows raise and his smile momentarily disappears. Your blood turned to ice as he slowly raised the gun from your abdomen and put it directly to your forehead. You flinched, feeling the cold metal against your skin.

“You wouldn’t,” you said, breathless. Both of your hands go to the one he had grasping at your throat.

Lupin grins. You can hear the click of the safety on the gun. It’s impossible to stop yourself from flinching and he leans closer.

“I would,” he says, voice light with a cocky tilt of his head.

His face comes even closer. You can see every flaw, ever small scar. His head dips and his eyes meet yours momentarily. You can only glare with admittedly exaggerated disdain. And then he kisses you. The barrel of the gun taps lightly against your head as his lips move against yours and his hand leaves your throat so his newly freed arm can wrap around your waist. Your eyes close, adrenaline and fear racing through you, turning your blood and insides icy as Lupin rams you up against the closest wall. You inhale desperately for air whenever you get the chance, hands at his chest.

Lupin's knee comes between your legs, opening them wider.

The momentary relief from tension of kissing him is just that--momentary. Because then you feel the barrel of the gun still pressing up against your head. The ice in your blood doesn't melt.

"You know fear and attraction are so easily confused. Those wires get crossed faster than you'd think." His hand moved to your chin, fingers holding your head so you couldn't shrug away from him or the gun.

Your hands stay firm at his wrist, following them upwards. The back of your head hits the wall lightly. You didn't dare try to move his hand. His thumb reached to pull at your bottom lip softly.

There's a horrible moment of realization that he's right. Feeling your legs quiver and the heat in your core that you can't attribute to anything or even properly identify...

You can't think straight when you're with him. Not even when he's got a gun to your fucking head.

Lupin's grin widens before he grabbed your arm. You already knew where all this was going and the worst part was you couldn't even feel all too averse to it. Before you know it he's got your back pressing into a mattress, his mattress. He was back on top of you within seconds, gun at the side of your head this time, his hand drifting down to grip at your leg.

“C-Can you stop with the gun already?” you gasped out, feeling his hand rub over your thigh. “I-It’s confusing me.”

That wolffish smirk spreads over his face again. Still, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief and relax slightly upon feeling the gun leave your head. That, however, was rather short lived. Lupin suddenly rubbed the top of the barrel of the gun between your legs, hard, and you choked on your own saliva, face aflame, eyes snapping open.

“ARE YOU-?!” you start, actual sweat gathering at your forehead. And not in fear. More arousal than anything else.

Lupin snickers. “Wouldn’t make any sudden moves if I were you, baby.” The length of the gun presses up into your panties once more and you bite the inside of your cheek. “You like that don’t you?”

That flare, that mixture of embarrassment and usual petty rage comes back for just a moment. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” you bite back, fingers clenching into fists.

The metal of the gun rubs up into you once more and you stiffen with a mixture of fear and fucked up arousal that only Lupin could bring.

“E-Enough-“ you try again before a soft moan twists your words.

“You’re impatient, baby,” Lupin purrs back, but to his credit he does finally listen and the gun pulls away from between your legs. He likes to work you up, but knows pushing it too far usually just results in tears and killing the mood. He rests your gun almost carelessly upon your thigh.

“I’m not your baby,” you managed, still struggling to pull yourself together.

Lupin chuckles and you shiver. His long fingers reach between your legs. His other hand went to press up against your jaw, lifting your head so he could look at you better. His index curls softly over your skin. He leaned close, his green jacket obscuring your view of almost everything but him. Just him. That’s all he wants you to see right now. Your breath catches in your throat as your heart pounded in your chest.

“But you could be,” Lupin said, smirk pulling at his lips as his head cocked to the side.

"Oh, please." You can't help but roll your eyes at his flirting. "You've got plenty of men and women wanting to fill that role."

Lupin's thumb traced over your face. "They're not you, y'know?"

And like he always does, he finds a way to disarm you completely with simple words. He's not blind to the way all the aggression seems to leave your face, and how all the nervous, angry tension leaves your muscles. His hand at your thigh brushes between your legs, going to unbutton your pants, pulling them down with ease. The waistband isn't even all the way past your hips before Lupin eagerly starts to tug your underwear down as well. He takes off his jacket, throwing it off the side of the bed.

He looks down at you.

"Ready?"

You nod, in that usual lustful trance he seems to always charm you into.

His fingers delve slowly inside of you, reaching places you didn’t even know were possible. His brows raise slightly with pleasure when he feels you tighten around him and your head falls back. Slowly, his fingers start pumping and you gasp, eyes shutting as your head turns harshly into the pillow.

Lupin knows his way around the female body well--you're aware of that. But somehow, he knows his way around yours even better. Every time you've slept with him he's gotten just a little bit better at finding ways to make you practically sob his name. He's attentive like that. He listens for every little moan so he knows what to do to you again and again. It's like he only finds pleasure in giving you your own, in making you completely weak for him--and that makes him one of the best fucks you've ever had in your life.

Feeling your hips raise against his hand, he chuckles and shoves them back down, his other hand going to push them down harder against the mattress. With no way to feel relief between the movements of his fingers, you knew you wouldn't last long beneath Lupin. And that's just how he likes it. Hard and quick and intense, he doesn't have the attention span to sit around and tease you for long. At least, that's what you had originally assumed about him before now.

As you felt yourself reaching your climax, his thumb just barely brushing over your clit, he suddenly stopped.

"What the fu-" you start, your face somehow heating up even more with frustration.

Lupin grins and starts again, and you lose focus. Once again, you're unable to speak, overwhelmed by the feeling of him. Around the second time he repeated this little game, you lost your patience. You had not let him rub a gun on your pussy just to let him fucking torture you like this.

You kneed him in the stomach, forcing him up and off you. His fingers slipped out of you and the empty feeling it left only encouraged the irritation. Before he even had time to react or say something snarky, your hands were on his chest, pushing him onto his back, pinning him to the mattress like he had done to your earlier. Lupin laid beneath you, watching you with a gleam in his eyes, as you kicked your pants and shoes off completely. Your hands turned to Lupin's own slacks, before you went for his tie and dress shirt next.

To say he was amused was an understatement. You looked down at him, taking the chance to catch your breath as he grinned right back up at you. Your forearm drags across your forehead to rid yourself of any perspiration.

"Wipe that stupid look off your face before I change my mind," you said to him, voice icy.

"God, I love you," was all he said in return, arms suddenly wrapping around you, pulling you back down so he could bring you into a passionate kiss.

As you feel Lupin's tongue over yours, you know he doesn't mean it like that. And thank God he doesn't because if he did, you wouldn't have known what to do with yourself. He doesn't "love" you per se, you know that, at least not in the traditional sense. Not in the real way good people love each other. What Lupin loves is the way he can make you mad, the way you'll kiss him and lay with him and throw the night away with him and then be out of his hair by morning. Lupin loves that you're an inconsistency in his life. The unpredictability of it all, the thrill, the rush, that's what he loves. And he loves how you hate him. You can't shame him for that. You can't scoff and act like you're any better than him because some part of you loves it all too.

You're freed from his arms, only to feel his hands at your hips. He's hard against your leg, something you'd noticed long before he even managed to drag you onto the bed with him. He doesn't waste much time when it comes to this part--probably because it's his favorite. All he does is angle your hips just right so he can sink his cock deep into you and fuck you until you couldn't even remember your own name. All that matter is his name anyways, since it's all he wants to hear from you.

Lupin's hands slipped from your hips, gripping hard at your ass as his thrusted hard into you. You gasp into his skin, eyes half shut with pleasure. Your arms had found their way around him, one under his arm, fingers curling into his back, the other wrapped over his shoulder, gripping at the back of his neck. Your heated face is buried into his throat. The sheets tangled around your legs as he suddenly grunted and flipped you onto your back.

You nails leave long welts in his back. You could feel the prickle of the coarse line of hair trailing up from his dick against your skin, he's so deep in you. Wiping the perspiration from your hairline previously had been practically pointless. He's got you overheating and overwhelmed beneath him.

"Fuck, Lupin..." you whine out against his neck, feeling your climax finally coming after being denied to you.

You don't know how he does it, but every time you seem to have an even more intense orgasm with him. And you've certainly tried to see if you could attain it with another man, some guy in a bar, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same if it wasn't Lupin. And there was no doubt he knew of your unsuccessful attempt to find someone else to do better than him. But he doesn't consider that cheating on your end at all, no way, not if it engrained the idea even more in your head that he was the best there was when it came to fucking you senseless.

Your grip somehow tightens more around him. A pained grunt escapes Lupin as your nails sink into his back and his hips grind against yours one last, full time before you finally cum. Hearing your cries in his ear? That's heaven. It's something he can't steal effortlessly, it's something he has to work for. And that makes it all the more worth it to Lupin.

Still, he doesn't stop, not until he's finished having his own fun. You're almost grateful that he doesn't last as long as he usually does, considering if he'd thrusted into you for any longer you figured you might faint. The white flashes in your vision and sudden weakness still washed over you even as Lupin finished, falling still against you as he attempted to catch his own breath. You could feel his lips on yours once more, then at the spot where you jaw met your neck before he finally pulled out, hand still at your hip as he sat up off of you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, softly, silently laying at his side for what felt like far too long. His slacks were still loose at his hips and his belt was still open and hanging, like he was trying to tempt you into another round. You seriously doubted you could take that tonight after his little stunt earlier. The memory of the gun pressing to you is still far too fresh in your mind.

Lupin squeezed your arm lightly before standing up off the side of the bed, kicking the sheets off his legs. Faintly, you watched him make his way across the room, almost too casually. He shifted a painting to the side, revealing a safe behind it. You wanted to kick yourself for not noticing it when you'd first broken in. Frustration once again brews in your chest. You would have never guessed the safe was even there, behind it, either.

You're always learning new things with Lupin, whether you wanted to or not.

He opens the safe, casting a smug glance over his shoulder in your direction. You simply scowl back, fixing him with a nasty glare as he turned back around after rummaging around the inside of the safe. In his hand was a glittering mass of jewels, pearls, and golden rings and bracelets.

The smug expression stayed firm on his face as he slunk towards you. He found a spot too close to you on the bed. Gracelessly, he dumped the pile of pearl strings and diamonds over your body.

Reluctantly, you sat up so your back was resting against the headboard. The jewels gathered at your lap. For a moment, you glanced down at them. Your hand sinks into the pile, lifting some of it. You feel the diamonds fall between your fingers, you feel the gold against your palm. But for some reason, you can't feel happy. You can't feel satisfied. You just feel tired. The jewelry suddenly drops back down onto your lap, like it's poison for you to touch. It's almost nauseating to look at.

"Great," you finally said. "Now I just feel like a whore."

Lupin just shook his head with a sigh. "There's no making you happy is there? Maybe I'm giving you all this out of the kindness of my very generous heart."

You shudder, and your arms wrap tightly around yourself. Once again, the sight of the jewels makes you hate yourself just a little bit. You find something else to look at. The ornate wallpaper instead. You grimace slightly. "How do you make everything feel so...scummy all the time?" Ah yes, the usual pang of regret that came after fooling around with Lupin the goddamn third.

Lupin laughs. He never takes much offense to any of your insults. It's like he finds them more flirty than anything else. "I'm not all scumbag." He creeps closer to you, leaning in. He moved a lock of your hair over your shoulder so he could see your face better. You wouldn't look at him. "C'monn...Am I not allowed to have a soft spot for cuties like you?"

Lupin's hand grabbed your arm, unfolding it and pulling it away from your body. The only reason you don't put up a fight to spite him is because the exhaustion from the night is beginning to set in. You can only blink tiredly as his grip shifted to your wrist and he went to unfold your fingers, parting them so he could slip a glittering ring onto one of them. Your ring finger of all places--he really knows how to get under your skin, you'll give him that. You rolled your eyes.

"This isn't gonna become a habit. Just saying."

Your exasperated side-eye doesn't seem to faze him in the slightest. You genuinely can't tell if he's actually oblivious or if he's ignoring it on purpose.

"You said that last time," he reminded you, pulling your hand up to his lips. His head dipped so he could kiss along it, leaning closer and closer to make his way up your arm. "And the time before that. And the time before that."

Despite his attempts, you wouldn't smile. Instead you can only feel a sort of...emptiness. That's new. Usually it's just the regret that fades after a few minutes of Lupin's lips on you. The emptiness scares you. You turn your head to face him, to make actual eye contact with him.

"Can this whole thing just be over with us?" You ask, not meaning a word of what you were saying. Like always. In the worst and best ways possible you're already in too deep.

Lupin fakes a wince. "Ouch, you always get so cold after I throw you around, huh?"

Once again, his hand pushes into the hefty pile of jewelry he's brought over to retrieve a string of pearls. He lifts your hair with his forearm, fastening the string around your neck. The pearls feel icy on your still heated skin. When you don't react, not even so much as a thank you, Lupin suddenly grabs a handful of the string, tightening it at your throat. Your eyes widen as he yanks you towards him, and you give into his force, falling into his chest.

"Why shouldn't I be?" you finally respond, muffled against his skin.

You can feel him shrug.

"Because I like you."

The pearl strings are slack against your neck now--he's let go of them. Slowly, you sit up so you can properly look at him once more. You don't see that trademark smirk of his that always indicates some kind of teasing to his words. Just said to get under your skin and work you up on purpose. He's not joking. He means it.

And all the sudden you're confused and lost and scared all over again and it's like you're not touching the mattress anymore, not touching him, just spiraling as you sit there motionless. Lupin watched the change in your facial expressions, something he was becoming increasingly good at observing the intricacies of. The drop. The darkening of your eyes and the curvature of your brows. Lupin lowered his head slightly to look up at you.

"You've got this funny look on your face, doll."

His voice brings you back. The strange shock finally subsides. You stumble before finding your words with a dizzied shake of your head.

"I've...I've gotta go. It's late.

It's a feeble excuse, but it worked because you were off the mattress in minutes, pulling your pants and underwear up at the same time. The treasure falls off your lap, scattering around the floor and mattress. You don't notice. You don't care. You tune him out as you focus on adjusting the buttons so they wouldn't slide off. Lupin's dangerous if you let him keep talking and worming into your head. Knowing that, you're quick to get the fuck out of the room, letting his words simply blend together into white noise and nothing more.

You don't even care that you left the jewels you'd come for in the first place.

You don't even care that you left behind your only means of self-defense--your gun.

By the time you reached your apartment, you were still breathless and faint.

Your own bed had never been so comforting in your entire life.

It's a new apartment--you had moved once the idea of Lupin knowing your address had become too much for you. Which meant he hadn't had a chance to even touch the sheets on this new mattress yet. Perfect. Something untouched by him. The scent of him here and now would have been too much for you to bare.

Usually you were too tired to shower after your little flings with him. But you pushed through your exhaustion. You could still smell his cigarette smoke and cologne on your body.

You don't bother dressing after leaving the shower. You just want to go to bed.

Almost the second you hit the sheets, you're asleep, which is more of a blessing than anything else had been tonight.

Unfortunately, you couldn't have solace. Not even in your sleep.

Because in your dreams, you saw those diamonds and pearls and gold. The diamonds seemed to pierce into you. You felt the pearl strings snake around you. Between your fingers, around your legs, through your hair, around your throat. You dreamed of them strangling you.

And when you awoke, to your horror, the diamonds and jewels you'd left behind were scattered along the length and curves of your body, all over the sheets around you.

He'd been here.

The ring was back on your finger.

The long pearl strings were wrapped tight around your neck.

And his name was inked on your thigh.

#nsfw #one shot #lupin iii #arsene lupin iii x reader #not healthy not condoned #arsene lupin iii

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

spoil me

jigen daisuke x reader

nsfw

commissioned work

6.8k words

Jealousy wasn't in your nature, but it was difficult to shove it to the back of your mind and ignore it. Instead, you just label it as your desire for closeness--closeness to him. You loved him deeply but sometimes you wanted him all to yourself. It's irrational, really, this envy, this need in you to have him all to yourself. It's not like Jigen doesn't pay attention to you. He's not a neglectful husband in the slightest by any means. He spoils you endlessly--Givenchy, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Balenciaga, Dior, name it and it's yours when you're in his arms.

Is it selfish? Being like this? Even after all he gives?

It's not like you hate his friends either--it's quite the opposite, you love them, really. They're his little gang of criminals that you hold near and dear to your heart, even in your most jealous moments. Even Fujiko, who at first, you'd worried over. However, judging by Jigen's disdain for her, you soon came to like her as a friend, rather than see her as a possible threat. In his own words, Jigen considered Fujiko less of a friend and more of "a conniving little bitch", anyways. However, Lupin was quite fun to be around and served as endless entertainment. Even Goemon, despite his distant, chilly exterior was kinda sweet when you got to know him better. You liked him the most, considering his closeness to your husband and the way he seemed to just...make you feel safe when you're alone in a room with him. You trust him the most, besides Jigen, no doubt about it. Jigen seems to trust you the most with Goemon as well.

Although Jigen wasn't as much as a playboy as Lupin was, apparently he'd slept around a good amount before he met you, so it was still mildly surprising to Lupin that his dear old friend had settled down with a wife of all things. He'd always expected that when Jigen settled down, if he ever settled down, that he'd be doing it somewhere far away, alone with his favorite brand of wine and a fuck ton of money and guns. Not with any woman, which Jigen had historically shied away from.

The matter was...too complex for Jigen to really explain to someone like Lupin. He doesn't quite understand it himself, either, if he was honest with himself. But what was there to really try to understand? You make him feel that thing commonly known as 'love'. Something about your face, in your eyes, in the way you smiled at him. It's the little things, that no one else would notice or remember. The stray beauty mark or freckle here or there. The small scars scattered and seemingly meaningless. But they're there and he notices them and that's what makes them mean something at all. The way his hand always felt right on you, no matter where it was. You felt right. And when someone makes you feel like that, you want to put a ring on them. You want to get their name inked on your skin, and your's on their's and do crazy, stupid shit for them because you're in love and what the hell else is a man to do when he's been cursed that way?

Also, according to Jigen, you have a pretty great rack, so that certainly helped at well.

For the sake of getting Lupin off his ass, Jigen would simply shrug and offer something along the lines of, "Hey, I'm pushing thirty. Had to happen eventually."

Getting married when you're who Jigen is...it's risky as hell and he knows that. He'd made you aware of those risks during the wedding night, your legs intertwined with his, milk white, lacy garter still torn down and hanging loosely around your ankle as you'd nuzzled into his chest. Being shot, kidnapped, held ransom or hostage, tortured for information, tortured for fun, beaten, the works. He almost feels guilty, listing everything he's seen in his line of work off one by one. Had he really put you at risk just to have you as his wife?

He'd noticed how quiet you'd been.

He hesitated before he'd spoken once more.

"Things won't ever be the same for you, you know that right?" Jigen told you.

And you had known that. From the second you'd laid your eyes on him in that casino, almost a year ago, you'd known. From the moment he'd looked up from his cards and his gaze had held yours and stayed there for just a bit too long, you'd known that nothing would ever be the same. A man like him is life changing--sometimes you can just tell by looking. And that wasn't always a bad thing, whether he's a wanted felon with a legendary quick draw or not.

That night, you'd kept him company for a little too long. But you couldn't help it--he was fun and it was like a free self-esteem boost hanging around his arm. He'd flirted with you, hard, occasionally putting a casino chip or two directly into your cleavage with a bit of a smug grin on his narrow face. Ballsy, but ultimately, he was doing that sort of thing to the right person who, luckily, had a sense of humor similar to his. You'd found it insanely funny, to the point of turning red with uncontrolled giggles. The reaction it garnered from everyone else around the casino was probably the best part. You liked being the center of attention, you liked being at the center of his attention. And he likes your laugh. And your smile. So he kept finding ways throughout the long night to keep seeing it.

A night like this one full of antics and heavy flirting like his ended the only way it could--with you on top of him, dress hiked up over your waist, panties pulled down your legs, hanging off your ankle. As your hips had moved against his, the friction and push was enough to shift your bust. Leaning over top of him, panting, as his fingers kneaded into your waist and the back of your thigh, a casino chip suddenly fell out--apparently one both of you had forgotten about. It was enough to almost make you hysterical with laughter as Jigen pulled you closer, with an equally amused grin on his face.

He'd grabbed it off of the sheets and had all too easily tucked it right back in between your boobs.

"S-stop putting it there!" you'd managed between a new wave of giggles.

"It's for safekeeping."

And then he'd kissed you, hard, rolling you onto your back, beneath him.

After that he just...kept turning up in your life.

You learnt quickly that he wasn't joking about being a wanted criminal and that he was more than just a fugitive with an insane trigger finger (which you could say from personal experience, definitely deserved the hype). Criminals and felons and men of that sort had never put you off. But you hadn't thought he'd been serious when he'd spoken of being apart of one of the most notorious thief gangs in the hemisphere. You'd wanted to kick yourself for not doing some simply research and drawing the connection sooner, to be honest.

Jigen had been reluctant to introduce you to the other criminals he'd called his companions, even after a few months of officially dating you. He'd kept you more of a secret for the sake of your safety, but he couldn't keep making excuses for his frequent disappearances. That, and he'd rather tell them himself than have them find out on their own if they got too nosy. Jigen also knew that if he was going to get serious with you (which he did want to do, surprisingly enough--it's not every day you find a chick who will let you put twenty poker chips in her cleavage within ten minutes of meeting her), you'd have to meet Lupin and the rest eventually.

When you did actually get the chance to sit down at their current hideout, Jigen was smoking a cigarette by your side, your arm wrapped around his free one. You'd found that they were surprisingly...fun? In contrast to Jigen's usual grumpiness was Lupin, who'd you'd never known was so...well...aloof, for a lack of better words. It was hard to imagine, looking upon that bright, open face of his that he was a criminal mastermind. Later on, you quickly received a reminder of this fact when Jigen suddenly reached forwards, yanking your waller out of Lupin's jacket pocket and handed it back to you nonchalantly.

"Come on man," he'd muttered with a tilt of his hat, seeming somewhat embarrassed and just a little pissed off if anything else.

Lupin only grinned, wide. "Awww, I'm just trying to have some fun with her," he'd teased.

Even with Jigen irked at your side, you'd been inclined to like Lupin from the minute he'd stolen your wallet. His charms are easy to fall for and you knew that if Jigen hadn't met you in the casino first, Lupin would definitely have had a chance of getting an arm around you. Maybe your type was just criminals in general.

Little did you know that you'd end up being one's lawfully wedded wife.

Marriage had always been...well...just a thing that some people did. It'd never had any sort of real gravity or possibility to you, and you'd never imagined that Jigen was the type to even...get married, per se. But sometimes at night, as you laid in his embrace, the thought had crossed your mind. You thought you'd known better than to expect that of him, especially with the way he lived his life. It's too much pressure to put on a wanted man. Even if you want him just as much as the law did. But apparently, the idea of marriage had been crossing Jigen's mind as well, which he'd originally thought was a sign he'd just drank too much before coming to bed.

But then there were the rare nights he was completely sober where the thought continued to reoccur.

And it was a morning like any other when he knew.

When you'd rolled over to face him and had woken up with a slow stretch and a sleepy smile. Jigen's hand had gone to your cheek and he'd kissed you. And you'd reached up and held his hand, tightly to your face. The way you looked at him, even moments after waking up. That's the way he wanted to be looked at every morning for forever or at least until he was cold and bullet riddled in his grave. That's when he knew he wanted to put a ring on your finger. A meaningful one, not just some gift of diamonds or rubies in a silver band. A simple gold band.

But then came the frequently occurring idea that he could lose this, that he could lose you, at any moment, as he pulled you close to him. Thoughts like those usually turned him off of any long term relationship, of getting emotionally attached to women he thought he loved, only to be torn up again. His past experience and string of broken relationships often came to mind during these moments.

But they'd been nothing like this.

Still, he was scared.

Jigen rarely spooked, especially over something like this. Scared that you would one day be in the arms of another--that he couldn't take. He'd rather put a bullet in someone else than see you in their arms. Or scared that you could die. He didn't want you to join his past lovers in a grave. He didn't want you just to be another one of his dead girlfriends.

A wife.

Things could be different if you were his wife, perhaps.

Lupin's connections made it easy to officiate the wedding and money certainly wasn't a problem when it came to Jigen. Fujiko had even taken you shopping for a dress and organized one hell of a bachelorette party for you, to Jigen's dismay. Yada yada yada something about "not trusting his wife to be with that two faced bitch". At his demand, Goemon tagged along with the two of you the whole time, which started out awkward but gradually grew more amusing. The minute he had some sake in him, he got way more fun. Either way, it turned out to be an entertaining night out for you, and you figured Jigen had just as good of a time at the bachelor party Lupin had thrown for him in turn.

You'd been worried at first, that the shininess and euphoria of the new marriage would start to wear off quickly between the frequent moving and just how much Jigen tended to put himself in the face of danger for his career. But you trusted him completely. You trut him to come home in one piece, and to his credit, most of the time he does. If anything, he was working harder than ever now, with you on his mind. Before, what exactly was there to survive for? Maybe a cigarette when it's all over and a handful of jewels or cash and half full bottle of liquor he'd stashed away for later, maybe. Now it was you.

Even Lupin seemed to notice the change in Jigen.

Honestly, you didn't mind being somewhat of a homebody for the whole group, usually spending your time wandering whatever place they were using as a hideout, cleaning what you could or cooking whatever out of boredom. You never worried much for the rest of them, seeing as they all tended to come home alive, usually with diamonds or gold or bags of money. There were times also times when not all of the members of Lupin's gangs were out at once, which meant someone would be home to give you some company, even if it's not Jigen. Your preferences usually lie with Goemon. The dud can make a mean cup of tea and has a sort of energy that give the room a comfortable, relaxing silence. Lupin was sometimes a little...much to be alone with and Fujiko was fun, but tended to be more independent, meaning she was around least of all.

But still, every once in awhile, when you do end up all alone, whether it be in a hotel room in Hong Kong, or a villa in Italy, or a cabin in Norway, you have somewhat selfish thoughts. They leak into your mind like poison, becoming worse when you were alone. When you pace whatever suite or house you're in, they only grow louder. You'd once confided in Goemon, figuring he was the best person to go to when it came to grounding yourself. His recommendations of meditation or other various methods might have worked well for him, but they just didn't seem to click with you.

What you wouldn't give just to have a week alone with Jigen. You haven't had that much quality time since your honeymoon with him.

As you were laying in bed with him one night, back to his chest, staring off in the darkness, he spoke. How he'd known you were awake was beyond you, considering how still you'd tried to keep.

"Somethin' on your mind, (Y/N)?" He'd murmured, shifting so his arm wrapped closer around you. His breath stirred at the soft hair tucked behind your ear, and his lips barely ghosted over you. His beard scratched against your skin.

Quickly, you took in a sharp breath. You considered lying to him. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

With a soft sigh, you shrug lightly. "I dunno. I guess I just...miss you a lot."

"I'm right here, aren't I?" His hand squeezes your arm like he's trying to prove it.

"You're just...gone a lot. I think I just notice more now that we're all married and stuff, I guess."

You turned over so you were on your back. Jigen's arm fell over your abdomen as you lifted your hand up in the darkness, shifting it so your wedding band could glimmer just slightly. You brought it back down, arm bent partway at your chest as your fingers closed into a loose fist. Jigen's hand wrapped around yours.

For a moment, he was quiet. You thought that he'd fallen asleep before he spoke once more.

"I was going to surprise you but...ah, what the hell. I miss you too, sweetheart."

Your gaze moved up to meet his, your head tilting to the side so your cheek pushed into the pillow. What was he talking about? Your heart seemed to pick up a little bit as Jigen's thumb rubbed over the back of your hand slowly.

"I've got something nice planned for us next week. A vacation, kinda. Real nice place. Beaches. Penthouse suite. The whole deal. Just you and me."

It took you a moment to take it all in. "Th-that seems like too much. I mean-"

Jigen's hand suddenly reached for the back of your head and he silenced you quickly with a brief kiss, bowing your head slightly after so his lips could touch your forehead and you could nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

"Nothing's 'too much' for my girl." Although his voice is gruff, you knew that he meant well. "Now get some shut eye, alright? I want you well rested." His thumb brushed fondly over your cheek and you held the back of his hand, momentarily, the way you knew he liked, pressing his palm up against your skin.

You spent the rest of that week, waiting almost anxiously for Jigen to suddenly cancel the plans or back out or tell you that it wasn't going to work out or that it needed to be delayed because of some unexpected heist Lupin wanted to put into motion. But all was quiet and soon, you were on a plane at his side, staring out a window at passing clouds, head resting on his shoulder as you breathed in his cologne began to doze off.

You were pleased to find that Jigen had opted for a more tropical get away--the latest hideout you'd been cooped up in the mountains and you figured he'd heard your complaints of the chill in the air. That and you imagine it's a way to have you hanging around him in a bikini as much as possible, being arm candy, which was one of your favorite past times anyways.

After you checked into the suite with him, you'd crashed down onto the bed almost immediately, stretched out and exhausted from the flight and the time zone change.

Jigen was on top of you within second, kissing you. Although there was no one else in the room to hear, his voice was still low. "You brought that bikini I like right?"

You nodded with a smile. "How could I forget it? You'd never let me hear the end of it." Your fingers threaded through his hair and one of your legs hooked over the small of his back as he continued kissing up your collarbone and neck.

He almost groaned out, enough to make your shiver. "Good. I wanna see you in it on the beach."

You're relieved he doesn't go any farther than kissing at the moment. He can tell when you're tired and usually tends to hold off. Knowing this, you had no problem nor guilt about dozing off beneath him, arms wrapped around him as you did.

It was fun having him to yourself for the week. At times, you found yourself almost missing Lupin's antics or Goemon's deadpan, snarky remarks, but you soon forget about it whenever Jigen wraps an arm around your waist and offers you yet another drink.

The penthouse suite he'd rented out was pretty fucking awesome too. It's worth the dent in his wallet to see the look of awe on your face every time you poke around it, finding some new unnecessary rich person thing to toy with or make fun of with him. The bed was also so insanely comfortable that you'd considered begging Jigen to get Lupin to steal it.

One night, sometime after dinner, you'd come out of the massive shower. Jigen had gone off, claiming he'd forgotten something by the pool.

Probably his gun, you joked to yourself as you'd shouldered open the door and toweled your hair.

To your surprise, you found an assortment of boxes waiting for you on the bed. There was a note with them, which you quickly sat down to read, hand clutching the towel to your chest.

Did some shopping for you. Figured you'd like something nice to wear for tonight.

Maybe you were a little bit tipsy from the champagne at dinner, because you wondered, dumbly, what he could have been talking about. In your defense, you had just assumed that the five star meal that you'd had with him no more than an hour earlier was the big event of tonight. Still, you set the note aside, reaching over to start sorting through the boxes.

Numerous types of shoes, all to your size and liking, some really nice dresses, perfume, you name it, anything offhandedly you might have mentioned here or there, whether it be two days ago or two months ago, Jigen had gone out of his way to buy it for you. But the best was saved in the last box, the smallest, darkest, least significant looking one.

Sliding the lid off, your other hand ventured into it, feeling over soft fabric and silks and...you moved the top of the box off entirely. Upon catching a glimpse of intricate black lace, you grab and handful of whatever it is and find yourself pulling out a raunchy but gorgeous piece of lingerie.

Ohhhh.

You're definitely not walking tomorrow morning.

After getting over your initial shock, excitedly, you ran back into the bathroom to try it all on in front of the numerous mirrors. Of course, just like everything else, Jigen's gone above and beyond. It fit perfectly, to the point where you wondered if he'd had it tailored or custom made because it felt like it was honestly meant for you. You wouldn't put it past Jigen to have your very measurements memorized judging by the way the delicate lace ran snug along your thighs and chest. He knew what made your body look good, and how well he knew that was made apparent to you as you studied yourself in the mirror, turning to and fro to catch every new angle, almost vainly. You're allowed to be vain for looking this good.

After another look over yourself, you came back to the bed. You busy yourself with moving the gifts off to the side, anywhere as long as the bed was clear because knowing Jigen you'd need the whole thing with him. Patiently, you sat back down at the end of it. A soft sigh left you as you crossed your legs and leaned back, arching your back and pushing your chest out, for no one in particular. Maybe just you. As your eyes shut momentarily, you can only think about how there can't be anything better than this.

He'd be back any minute now. Almost the second you thought of him, like some silent call of his name, the suite doo opens. Almost immediately, you perked up, head lifting and eyes opening. The ceiling shifted out of your view in favor of him.

He whistles purely to make you blush. "You like it?" Jigen asked, tilting his hat up with a grin. His eyes are locked onto you. You can't blame him, you'd had a hard enough time dragging yourself away from a mirror.

You smiled. "Mhm. It's sexy."

"Couldn't have put it better myself, doll. I mean...Jesus, I knew it'd look good on you but...wow." Jigen takes off his hat, standing motionless before you. Realizing that he's making you come to him, you pout a little bit before getting up off the end of the bed to do just that. His hands go to your hips as you stop in front of him.

"Honestly, you spoil me a little too much sometimes, Jigen-" you start, arms crossed over your chest.

He shakes his head. "I don't wanna hear any of that, tonight. You deserve it all, baby."

He's quick to silence any more of your attempts at modesty with his mouth on yours. You can feel his teeth lightly on your bottom lip, his hands squeezing tighter at your hips as he slowly walks you back towards the bed. With him, you fall back onto the soft sheets, rendering yourself breathless with his weight on top of you.

Jigen sat up slightly on top of you, beginning to work off his tie and dress shirt. As his fingers go to the collar, yours are already at the hem of his shirt. Then they're at his belt buckle, and then the zipper-

Almost for the sake of teasing him into franticness, you leaned back suddenly, into the mattress. He looks up from his half off shirt, just as your stretch your arms out above your head, letting out a soft moan as you did so. It worked--seeing him lose his cool and practically tear his shirt off from the seams is something you revel in, considering how he's usually so calm and collected. You find ways to drive him crazy the same way he does to you--even if you're in the process of losing your own head as well at times like these.

Jigen suddenly lunged forwards, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, leaning down. One sleeve still remained on him, the rest of the fabric hanging off his body.

Nose almost touching yours, Jigen spoke, voice even lower and grittier. "Do. Not. Move. Stay just like that, you hear?"

You nod slightly, chill sweeping through your body and heat pooling between your legs, eyelashes fluttering with a faint blink and a nervous breath.

To your dismay, he gets up and off you. He shakes the rest of his shirt off as he turns his back to you, disappearing out of the bedroom. Although his absence is only momentarily, with the way you were holding perfectly still to please him, it felt like forever. The anticipation keeps you suspended and barely breathing.

When Jigen returned, a bottle of wine was clenched in his hand--his favorite, you notice. It's already opened, like he couldn't help himself. You can't help yourself either, as he has extremely good taste in wine and his favorites tend to be your newly found ones as well. Once again, leaning over top of you, Jigen tilted the bottle to your lips and you took a long drink. He catches the excess on the corner of your lips with his thumb, pushing it in his mouth before kissing you again, hard.

"You wanna do something real nice for me, baby?" he asked, breaking the kiss all too early for your taste.

God, he tastes good, you found yourself thinking as your blush only intensified.

"Anything for you, Jigen," you responded, still trying to catch your breath.

Jigen leaned closer. The bottle pressed up against your side. "I wanna pour this all over you. And lick off every last drop..."

Your brows raise as you go to sit up on your elbows. "You really wanna ruin the lingerie you just bought me with that?"

His gaze drifts down, unashamed, to your chest. He grins. "It won't be ruined if I get to strip it off you piece by piece first." He sets the bottle aside, off on the nightstand.

Jigen kissed you once more, taking a handful of the lacy garter and your thigh squeezed beneath it. He leaned you slowly back into the sheets, down onto the bed again, pulling your leg up and wrapping it around his waist as he settled back on top of you. Just like he promised, he started taking off the pieces one by one. He started with the brassiere, as he usually does, fingers working at the clasp between your breasts.

"You get one with the clip there on purpose?" you tease as the air conditioned air sweeps over your revealed skin.

"Mhm. Always have trouble with the ones in the damn back. Makes me wanna fucking shoot myself."

You stifle a giggle with your hand, lifting your leg for him as he wound down the stocking from your skin. Normally, he likes tearing them straight off you. Hearing the seams or fishnets--whatever he's got you in--pop or rip apart really gets him going for whatever reason. But not this time. It seemed like he was taking more care than usual not to actually wreck this set. He's had no trouble absolutely destroying a couple previous sets you'd had.

You figured this meant Jigen definitely wanted to see it on you again.

As he made his way down your body, he peppered soft kisses across your abdomen, to your thigh. Slowly, as he slid down your panties, his lips came lower and lower. Jigen's beard brushed over the sensitive skin on your inner thigh and you could feel his sudden bite, only warned by a puff of heated breath. Your back arched and you gasp involuntarily with surprise. You're completely naked and at his mercy. How exciting...

Jigen's head came back up to your complete disappointment, and he reached to the side, off to the nightstand where he'd set the wine bottle.

Quickly, he takes another drink, wiping his mouth with a coarsely haired arm. Then, without warning, he strategically pours the wine along your body, in the valley of your breasts, along your abdomen, the soft indent at the base of your neck. You try your hardest not to flinch or move as the neck of the bottle skims over your skin. You feel it at your hip.

"Push you thighs together. Tightly," Jigen orders.

You obey without a second thought.

His idea works and he manages to get some wine pooled in the shallow space between your thighs. It's cold, still, making you hold back shivers that couldn't all exactly be blamed on the chilliness of the glass. Your lean your head back into the pillow, shutting your eyes as you felt Jigen's tongue slide over your skin. He took his time drinking it off of you, offering you the partway full bottle every now and then until the point where your mind felt just hazy enough to make this all feel ethereal.

He started at your neck, still pinning your arms above your head, kissing along it before sucking the wine from your collarbone and continuing on downwards. Even when he released your arms, they stayed far above your head, keeping your body stretched out and tense so it was easier for him to get to the wine. You gasped, feeling his tongue in between your tits. Jigen pours more, all over your chest. Apparently, he no longer cared about any of it staining the sheets. His lips pressed against the skin of your breasts, glossy and tinted with the wine, licking and sucking at the skin. You feel his teeth and know that there's no doubt he'll leave bruises, as he always does. Still, you sigh pleasurably, head tilting up once more as you feel the heat of his mouth around your nipple.

Eventually, he moves onwards down, past your abdomen, until he reached your thighs. They trembled under his fingertips. You inhaled slightly, feeling his tongue between your legs. Once the wine has long been drained from your skin, his tongue was still on you. You feel his palm shove at your thigh a bit roughly and you part them for him, allowing more room for his head between them.

Almost the second you felt his mouth on you, your hands had lowered from above your head in favor of gripping the sheets near your hip. For the first few minutes, you can keep your moaning at bay, pushed deep in the back of your throat. But Jigen's favorite thing is hearing you, so the minute he noticed you were holding out on him, it was game on. You practically scream out as you feel his tongue on your clit. His hands keep your hips pushed down onto the mattress and steady as you try not to writhe in pure pleasure.

You'd found yourself wondering, as you always did during times like these, how Jigen was so good at this.

The answer was obvious--experience. But that didn't reignite your usual envious streak. Instead, you only could feel intensely flattered. Of all the girls he could have eaten out for the rest of his life, he picked you, how romantic of him. The string of condescending thoughts quickly fades when you feel your insides begin to knot and your mind goes all fuzzy again.

As per usual, Jigen made you finish (multiple times, actually) with ease. Nothing better than having your thighs clench around his head, he's decided.

You let out a massive sigh, relaxing back into the sheets. Your fingers released the sheets as he rises up, arm hanging over your chest a bit lazily as he stares at you through dark eyes.

Once you finally regain the ability to say a full sentence without gasping for air, you asked, "Can I take a shower real quick? I feel...sticky. I think it's the wine."

You shivered a bit, the last of your climax still leaving you and you let out another soft exhale. Jigen laughed over top of you. His nose brushed over your cheek.

"I'd guarantee I'd get you stick one way or another, with or without the wine."

Rolling your eyes, you push him off you, hands lingering on his bare chest as you stood up off the bed.

"I'll be right back. I'm not done with you yet."

Jigen's eyebrows raised. "Oh, you're not done with me? Opposite way around, darling."

He stays on his side, watching you lazily as you headed straight for the bathroom. As you passed the mirrors, you glanced in one. Yeah. Definitely the wine. There's still some stained on your thighs and all over your chest. Sexy, but you highly doubted this would be a sort of regular occurrence if you could help it.

If I get a fucking infection from this I'm never letting him live it down, you swore to yourself, pushing your hair away from your face with a slight huff.

Getting into a shower has never felt so right. You'd barely even started the water before you hear him come in, having finally changed out of his pants and boxers. You decide not to turn around for the sake of playing a little hard to get. Sometimes its fun being at his beck and call, but other times it's even more fun to make him work for it. As the hot water ran down your skin, his hands found your waist and his head leaned into the crook of your neck. You're glad you're facing away from him, otherwise he definitely would have made fun of the intense blush creeping over your face and down your neck at the feeling of him hard against your inner thigh. Your heated cheek leaned into his grizzled on softly.

"Couldn't wait for you, doll."

You smile a bit sheepishly. "I was kinda hoping you'd join me in here anyways."

Jigen's hand went to your leg, as he began to push you up against the cold, marble shower wall. The hot steam hadn't had the chance to warm it, but you ultimately found it soothing. Both of your hands press up against the wall, joining your cheek against it as Jigen lifted one of your legs. Your fingers arched up against the marble and your dripping eyelashes fluttered as you slowly feel his cock push into you.

It takes him only a few moments to set a pace that wouldn't overwhelm you too quickly. Your breath heats the cold wall beneath your skin as one of his hands grips at the side of your throat. You feel his lips at your shoulders and neck. It's soothing and you would have fallen asleep if it wasn't for the way he was fucking you.

"Jigen," you murmured softly, more to yourself than him.

His hand at your neck moved to clench a handful of your hair, pulling lightly at your scalp. A bit roughly, Jigen pulled your head. A soft moan escaped your lips, echoing in the shower. He muttered something you couldn't quite catch over the heavy, falling stream of water. You felt him thrust deep and his grip on your hair tightened momentarily. The minute you feel him pull out and some of his seed drip down your leg, you'd never been more relieved that you were in the shower.

Still, the hot steam contributed to your drowsiness as you partway leaned into the shower stream, coming away from the wall, up against his chest. You could feel him sigh, hands still in your hair. Jigen pulls you close, kissing softly along any bruises he'd caused earlier on. Between that and the heat of the water, you were basically in heaven.

You could have fallen asleep standing there with him if he hadn't pulled you out of the shower after a few more minutes. After wrapping a towel around his waist, he tosses one carelessly in your direction. You bring it over your shoulders, following him back to the bed. It was big enough for him to completely ignore the wine stains, bringing you to the other side of the mattress.

Settling back down into the sheets, you exhale softly, feeling his thumb rub over your arm in slow circles.

"I love you, Jigen," you murmur, eyes shut. His hand moves up from your arm and to your cheek.

"I love you too, (Y/N)." Jigen seemed to hesitate before continuing. "And I know you might not...feel I do at times. But I really do. I meant my vows. And everything before them."

The idea that he's been thinking you think he doesn't love you like he used to makes you hurt in your chest. "I know you do. I've never doubted that, Jigen. You're my husband."

It's a simple phrase. It would have come off blunt or cold from anyone else. But not you.

You're my husband.

And for a moment, all of Jigen's subconscious guilt for not constantly being at your side was gone. He'd always thought that you didn't realize that existed in him--that there's the same irrational fear of losing you that you have about him. That he's not worried about a bullet of all things taking you away from him or vice versa. He's more afraid that it'd ultimately be him that pushed you away.

But as your head settled up against his chest and your hands lightly gripped at his arm nearest to you, holding it close, he realized there was no sign of you leaving any time soon. No matter how far away he was from you or how far away he'll be from you in the future, Jigen knew you won't lose your faith in him. That you won't just stop loving him all the sudden.

And that put him at ease.

#nsfw #one shot #lupin iii #jigen daisuke x reader #jigen daisuke

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

small death

jigen daisuke x reader

nsfw

3.1k words

It was all too hard to earn the trust, much less affections of a man like Jigen Daisuke.

But yet here you stand in one of his dress shirts. Here you stand with one of the last of his favorite pack of cigarettes pinched between two fingers, the taste of his preferred bottle of top notch whiskey still on your tongue, the smell of him on your skin, in your hair, in your nose at all times, drowning out everything else.

Here you stand with the fleeting, distrustful love of Jigen Daisuke.

It's like he thinks this is all too good to be true. That there's a drawback to this thing that most would refer to as a healthy, functional relationship. The worries and paranoia and traumas of his past plagued his mind. And that was not a fault of yours. He knew that. How could he act like you were the same as the scheming women who'd attempted to take his life and the unfortunate women who had given theirs?

"You'll stab me in the back. Or put a gun to my head. Or die," he once told you, strangely cold.

You were not cut from the same tree as Jigen. He was a wanted criminal slash gunman. You barely even had a parking ticket on your record. Opposites attract, you supposed. But you were never quite sure what to do in situations like these ones. Where all the sudden years of internalized hurt reared its ugly head in Jigen and you were the only one there to bear witness.

You never took it personal. What good would it do in getting angry at him? It would only help him succeed in pushing you away, in continuing the complex cycle of relationships he seemed forever trapped in. You didn't want to see him hurt like that anymore. You intended on putting an end to it to the best of your ability.

You just wanted him to be happy. To be one hundred percent content that you wouldn't pull a gun on him out of no where or sneak behind his back to steal from him.

You tried your hardest to console him on a particular night, when it became the most difficult for him. The ghosts of his past--especially his past flames seemed to weigh heavy on his shoulders.

“Well...I can’t really promise I won’t die, we all die sometime..." you told him. "But I can definitely promise that I’d never betray you, if that’s any consolation.” You cross your arms, casting your gaze downwards at your bare feet and the carpet. After a long few moments of silence, you speak once more, voice smaller. “I’m...I'm sorry, Jigen.”

You suddenly wrapped your arms around him, lovingly, before he had the chance to shrug away and grow cold and nonchalant like he usually did. He froze up, just for a second, before hesitantly wrapping his arms back around you. Still, his muscles were stiff and his breath seemed caught in his throat.

“For what?” he suddenly seemed on edge all over again. The cigarette started to bend with the pressure from his teeth.

“That you’ve gone through what you have. It’s sad. Even if you don’t want to say it, I will. It makes me hurt for you. It...It hurts me to think that everyone before me did all of those things to you.”

Your hand rubs slow circles over the back of his suit jacket. For a second, you think he might have relaxed, just a little bit in your arms. His breath blows softly over your ear in an almost too-tired sigh. Your heart breaks a little bit for him. Every time you imagine the guns to his head or the blood of his lost loves on his hands or in the reflection of his dark eyes, you feel almost cruel for being in a relationship with him.

Shakily, you try to speak once more. "You don't deserve any of what happened to you. I can promise you that. You're a good guy, Jigen. Well...at least the best I know. A-And I know that it must be hard. Trying to trust me, I mean. Trying to trust all of this." You gesture between the two of you. "But...I won't hurt you. I could never hurt you, Jigen."

"Look at me," he suddenly said. "Look at me and say it again."

You pull away gently. His hat was shading his eyes. Tentatively, you took it by the brim. Jigen ducked his head, just a few inches, allowing you to take it off of him. Your eyes scan his and you're not exactly sure what he's looking back with. Intensity, for sure. But of the sort, you don't know. Something complex and beyond you. But still, you stand steady before him, fingers tightening at his hat as you set your jaw and tilt your head up to look directly into his eyes.

"I won't hurt you. I could never hurt you, Jigen," you said, the softness in your voice gone and replaced with firmness you prayed he would find somewhat reassuring. You have his attention, more than ever now. Taking another breath, you continue. "You're my world, Jigen Daisuke."

Your words sit in the silence for an uncomfortably long amount of time. But he makes it seem...okay. Like he's committing it to memory. His hand suddenly finds your waist. At his touch, you almost want to melt with relief. Whatever distrust that had once possessed him was long gone, at least for awhile.

"I'm gonna kiss you now, if you don't mind."

"I don't."

Jigen's other hand cups the side of your face as his lips press up suddenly against yours. You tossed his hat off to the side, onto the unmade bed, which you could tell was about to get a lot messier. As his lips moved against yours, your hands traced up his arms, grabbing at his jacket before stripping him of it.

"C-Can we...?" You asked, breathless, as you broke away Jigen.

"Been on my mind awhile, if I'm being honest," he murmurs into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

At his approval, you began to push up against him. On purpose, he continued to back up, away from you, onto the bed. Smiling, you push him down onto the sheets, and a soft grunt escapes him when he sinks into the mattress. His eyes were glued to your form as you sat on your knees at the end of his bed, at his feet, unbuttoning the dress shirt clinging to you. Jigen's eyebrow raised.

"That mine?" he asked, his amusement clear on his face. It's relieving to see him smile again.

"I figured you wouldn't miss it," you replied.

"Keep it on a little. Looks cute on you."

Nodding, you crawled over top of him, coming to a stop where you were straddling his hips. Jigen leaned back, a smirk pulling at his lips as you began to pop the buttons on his own dress shirt one by one. Slowly, you let your hand drift down his chest, down his abdomen, enjoying the feel of his muscles tightening with anticipation against your touch. As your fingers traced down the thick line of hair trailing from his stomach down to his crotch, his head tilted to the side slightly.

"You want some help down there?" Jigen asked.

You shook your head. "N-No. I...I wanna make you feel good."

"You do."

Once again, you shook your head. "I mean like...I wanna...like..." You weren't exactly sure how to express your idea to him. Between the stammering and the blush crawling up your neck, Jigen seemed very much entertained.

"You wanna run the show a little?" His voice has lowered, becoming significantly huskier.

"I wanna please you."

"Then by all means, doll..."

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the tension winding up tighter inside you as your fingers went to undo his belt. Keenly, he watched you. Upon observing the slight tremble in your fingers, Jigen's hand smoothed up the side of your bare thigh and went to grasp at the small of your back. You let out a soft exhale as he gives you a nod of approval and you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. His thumb crept underneath the thin fabric of your panties clinging to your hip. Slowly, glancing up at him, you started to pull down his boxers.

Jigen stayed quiet, biting his tongue as you took your sweet time adjusting your position, his erection brushing up against the inside of your leg. His thumb lifted the side of your underwear, hinting at his impatience. Your hands find your own waistband and shove it down. Jigen's hand practically tore them down the length of your thighs.

"You don't have all night," he comments.

Your head tilted to the side inquisitively. "Got somewhere to be?"

"No, 'course not, princess. But if you keep me waiting any longer I'm gonna have you underneath me in about two minutes, screaming my name."

You rolled your eyes. "Down, boy, down."

A light, mocking growl comes from Jigen and his fingers grip tighter at your skin. You try to pretend like it doesn't instantly make you more hot and bothered than you already are.

Rising up a good few inches, as high as you could, upon your knees, you reached between your legs, between his, stroking a soft hand over his cock. He groans, his teeth flashing slightly behind pulled back lips.

"You sure you got this?" he asked, as you began to lower your hips.

"Jigen, we've fucked before," you helpfully remind him, taking in the first few inches of his cock somewhat easily.

"Mmm...I know. Just not like this. I like eating you out first. Makes you nice and wet for me."

"S-shut up," you manage, flustered easily by his sultry words. You'll never know how he talks like this to you so naturally. Like he knows exactly what'll make your insides turn in the best way possible, longing for him even more. "I'm in charge right now, so I'm gonna do it how I want." Your irritation clear, you suddenly lower your hips.

The last few inches of him sink deep inside you.

"Easy, easy, doll." Jigen smirks. There's nothing better than riling you up. "'Course you are. Keep going."

Even with him playing nice and submissive for you (for now at least), Jigen still managed to find a way to be dominant. You supposed it couldn't be help. It was just in his nature.

Slowly, you begin to move your hips. He inhales sharply and you figure you're doing something right. Your hands traced down his sides, before settling upon his hips. As your body lightly bounced atop his, Jigen's breath begins to quicken.

After about a minute, he spoke.

"Faster, doll. I know you got it in you."

His breathless encouragement was enough to give you a borderline adrenaline rush--enough to ignore the slow, familiar crawl of exhaustion.

As your hips shifted rhythmically, quicker against his, your fingers wrapped around his forearm, leaving his own narrow hips. You brought Jigen's arm up, off from the mattress, tracing his hand up along the center of your abdomen, between your ribs and breasts, up your throat. His fingers drift slowly against the soft skin connecting your neck to your jaw as you lean your head back slightly, a soft moan slipping from your lips. Jigen's other hand gripped tighter at the small of your back, urging your pace to quicken as you gasped. Both of your hands wrapped around his wrist, fingers arched at the back of his hand as you pressed your lips to his knuckles.

Jigen's thumb extended, brushing over your bottom lip, teasing at it. You let your lips part and another soft moan leaves you as you feel his fingertip prod between your teeth, against your tongue.

"Fuck, that's hot," he groaned.

"Yeah?" you murmur, slightly muffled as Jigen's other hand traced up your back.

A low moan comes from the back of his throat and it was enough to practically set your insides aflame. Your face reddened just a little more as another soft huff of effort came from you. Your hair curtained your face as your head dropped slightly.

"Mhmm...e-everything you do..." the way he's struggling to even get out words makes you almost unravel on top of him. "...everything you do is fucking hot, doll. Oh, fuck." He threw his head back into the pillow and you saw a flash of his teeth as his jaw clenched.

Feeling your own orgasm starting to build your pace quickened even more.

"Jigen..." you murmur his name, almost dreamily, like there's no sweeter sound, no greater pleasure, no better bliss.

Perspiration gathered along your hairline as you gasped softly, eyes shut. You didn't stop, not even when you felt him cum deep in you. He cursed, loudly, fingernails digging into your back. You fall forward slowly on top of him, his arm still pressed against the center of your body as the movements of your hips became slower, longer, deeper, working him through his own climax.

"(Y/N)-" he manages between hot breaths against your skin, still riding out the last of his climax. "G-God fucking damn, fuck-"

Your arms wrap around him. Jigen's hand finally left your mouth, in favor of pressing possessively against your cheek as you trailed slow kisses along his neck. Your eyelids flutter and a soft sound of distress leaves you. It was obvious you were beginning to tire and for the briefest of moments, you were worried you wouldn't finish. But not if Jigen had anything to do with it. There'd never been a time where he'd let you leave this fucking bed without tasting you on his tongue or making sure you were screaming his name with the last of how ever many orgasms he'd given you. And lord, Jigen knows you deserve it after the way you fucked for him.

You inhale sharply as Jigen began to take over. His lips lock with yours, and you feel his teeth graze over your bottom lip. Both of his hands shifted down to your hips. You simply relaxed, letting him move your hips for you as his thrusts became increasingly intense.

"How's this?" he murmurs against your lips.

"S-slower. I-I wanna feel you." You didn't know if it was possible for your face to get any redder with the lewdness of your own confession.

Jigen chuckles softly. "Whatever you want, princess." He readjusted his pace and you sigh shakily, head beneath his chin.

Once again, you feel the knot in your stomach tightening and your eyelashes flutter. Your breath caught in your throat. His hips were angled perfectly, hitting the most sensitive, pleasurable spot possible inside you. God he knows your body like the back of his hand...

"F-fuck, Jigennn..." a soft whine escaped you. "G-God, that...that feels good." You could barely find the words.

Jigen groaned. "Love hearing you like this, doll..."

You didn't have time to think of a witty response on account of how absolutely mind numbing the pleasure coursing through your system was. You breathed in the smell of Jigen's cologne, of cigarette smoke and whiskey, of the product still in his hair, of him.

If this was a taste of what heaven might have been like, you'd have converted that very second, just to be baptized and born again in the feeling of him.

Fuck.

You love him.

"J-Jigen?" you barely whisper out. "I-I..."

Your arms suddenly tighten around him and you buried your face in his chest, coarse hair scratching over your burning cheeks. You cry out into his skin, tears practically at the corners of your eyes, brows drawn together as the knot in your stomach finally snaps apart and you feel yourself cum on him. You continue to shiver and gasp with ever small, last few jerks of his hips.

Barely, you breathe out. "Holy shit." A wave of exhaustion begins to fall over you. You couldn't even lift yourself off his chest, simply leaning into his body, still trying to catch your breath. The feeling's familiar whenever you're with him, like this. Besides the climax, of course, it might be your favorite part.

Jigen's thumb rubs small circles into your skin as it drifts up from the small of your back to the space between your shoulders.

"Y'know in France they call this 'small death'," he murmurs into your ear, voice still low and husky. "La petite mort."

It takes you a few moments to find the motivation to respond. "Didn't know you spoke French."

"When your best friend is part French you pick up a couple of things. Stick around. Maybe you'll pick up a couple of things from me."

Finally you lift your face, chin resting on his chest. Shifting slightly, you attempted to separate your hips from his. Jigen could feel you shake slightly on top of him. A frustrated huff escapes you before he intervenes, rough hands on your hips, lifting them off his so you can turn onto your side. His arm wraps around you and you roll your eyes, attempting to duck away from it.

"The only thing I'm gonna pick up is a fucking UTI if you don't let me get up," you muttered, grabbing at his wrist and wrestling it away from your body.

Reluctantly, his arm finally stops trying to loop around you and he smirks. You reached over him, grabbing his hat you'd left abandoned on the other side of the bed. Roughly, you shove it on top of his head, giving it a good push down around his face before standing up from the bed and making a beeline for the bathroom.

With a bent finger, Jigen pushes the brim of his hat up, his head turning to watch the sway of your hips.

Keeper. Definitely a keeper.

#nsfw #one shot #lupin iii #jigen daisuke x reader #jigen daisuke

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

jewels i can fuck

lupin iii x reader

lewd, not fully nsfw

3.7k words

It's different fucking him.

Different from the other man you called your husband. Different from the passionate-less, unenthusiastic performances you've found yourself utterly disappointed with. It's different with him--with Lupin III. He makes love to you. You sometimes cringe, embarrassed about even using the phrase to label what he does to you. But what else is there to describe it? The way he kisses you, the way his hips seem to move in harmony with yours as he holds you, close and tight enough to feel the heat of his breath on your face.

To say you regard him fondly is an understatement.

"You seem lonely, baby."

That was all it had taken for you to let him in. Through the opened window, into your heart, your mind, your house, your bed.

It'd all started on a whim, on nothing but lust and thrill alone. Maybe that's why it was so special to you.

It's not your fault. It's not your fault you let him have you, time and time again. But one way or another, no matter how you spin it, no matter how you romanticize or deny it, you're cheating. You're indulging in a sin, and fuck if it doesn't feel good if you're doing it with Lupin. No one else in the world could make being...well...awful��this much fun.

It's not my fault, you seem to repeat again and again in your head like a broken record. Whether you're all alone, curled up on the cold mattress, or in Lupin's arms, it never stops playing.

When is he ever here for me? When is he ever here at all? How can you marry someone and then leave at every chance you get? How can you marry someone and barely see them at all?

It'd been a mistake to marry for money. You found that out as soon as Lupin modestly let you know about his own financial situation via a diamond necklace he'd left laid out in the valley between your breasts as you slept, right before he'd snuck back out into the night. If only you'd held out for a guy like him. But you'd been desperate...and divorce didn't seem like a good option anymore. God you couldn't stand the lawyers, the cops, the system in general...

Lupin doesn't even bring up the word "divorce".

"I'm fucking a married chick" seems like a better brag than "I'm fucking a divorcee".

Sometimes you find yourself thinking as Lupin's teeth graze over your chest, sucking at the soft skin in an attempt leave clear lovebites--he wanted to mark you. Risky considering you were a married woman with a husband who dropped by with no warning, on a whim, at random times and was gone before you knew it on yet another business trip. But maybe that's where Lupin derived thrill. Yes, you figure that he wouldn't be having nearly as much fun fucking you if you weren't married. Like eating forbidden fruit from the Garden of Eden, you figured. You can't exactly be angry at him for that--as a married woman, you find it thrilling to be with someone else entirely. Even if that someone happens to be a notorious thief guilty of most, if not all of the charges against him.

The idea of getting caught, of getting away with it, of risk--that's the grand prize of this all.

That and Lupin actually makes you finish.

And to his credit, most of the time he stays afterwards. Like he actually enjoys your company. Maybe he just likes it when women purposefully want to cling to him and be near him. You for one, just are relieved to have another warm body in bed with you. Another night sleeping alone would have you feeling like a damned widow. Lupin's frequent night time visits seem to remedy that.

There's one night where you let out a soft sigh, cheek pressed into his coarsely haired chest. It's a pleasurable itch across your skin as your eyes fall half shut. Your hand rested upon his abdomen, fingers arching slightly. A satisfied groan leaves him as he stretches his arms back behind his head with a bit of a smug grin.

“We can’t do this forever, y’know,” you eventually said, voice soft.

The thought's been on your mind for a long time. It'd started out small, this seed of fear and doubt deep in you. You'd planted it yourself. But over time, it'd grown more and more. With every forbidden, treacherous kiss, it became more obvious to you. Harder to ignore. That this would all undoubtedly come to an end soon--all the sneaking around, the adultery, the luxuries and love-bites you had to hide when your husband did come home. All of it couldn't last.

That's what's wrong with this.

It's unsustainable, being together like this.

It'll all fall apart around me.

Lupin's obviously oblivious to your rather depressing train of thought. Still, you can't imagine how anything similar to your thoughts haven't crossed his own mind yet. Maybe he just wasn't an overthinker in the same way you were. That's why you like him. He's carefree, aloof, at ease, like there's nothing wrong at all. He's not afraid. And maybe you envy him a little because of that.

“‘Course we can, why wouldn’t we, baby?” Lupin asked.

One of his arms dropped and you felt his fingers stroke slowly through your hair. He pinches some of it between his index and thumb, rubbing it between them. A shiver travels through your body--he feels it against his and smiles. But your silence dulls the smile considerably and quickly.

Suddenly, he spoke again, apparently realizing what your vague comment was in reference to. Of course. The pesky little husband off in...where was it again? Taiwan this time? “I could make him disappear, I bet.” He gave a bit of a chuckle as you vigorously shook your head.

You don't doubt that he's capable of doing so. Although your meetings with him are erratic and usually consist of near hours of foreplay before fucking like there's no tomorrow, there's times where you've been able to sit down with him and just...coexist. Just be with him. From what he's told you, you're well aware he has one of--no--the best gunman probably in the whole hemisphere working for him.

“No, no, that’s...too much. He hasn’t done anything wrong it’s just...it’s just me, I guess.”

“Then what about you?” he asked. You only had a moment to be confused before you felt his fingers at your chin, tilting your head up so you could look at him. “What if I made you disappear? What if I stole you away?”

You were breathless. “You can’t.” Your voice felt like it was little more than a whisper.

“Oh, but I can! I’m the greatest thief in the world, remember? I can steal anything I want!” He suddenly kisses the tip of your nose, and then your cheek, and then the corner of your lips, along your jaw, to your lips once more in quick succession. You couldn’t help but giggle and squirm slightly as he peppered your skin with gentle kisses. You squeaked as you felt him nip the side of your neck. Lupin pulled you closer, tighter, his breath hot against your skin.

“Come onnn, baby. Let me take you away from here.”

“I’m not suited to be on the run,” you say still unable to regain your breath. Your heart is racing.

“You don’t have to be, darling. I’ll take you somewhere far away from here, with me, and I’ll set you up with a cute little apartment and I’ll come see you all the time!”

“I’ll be a distraction.”

You don't know why you're suddenly making excuses when he's giving you a ticket out. Even if its as a missing person. Maybe this all just feels too good to be true, like a dream you'll wake up from any moment. Because this is the shit unhappy girls dream about right? Some handsome, suave thief coming to steal them away during the night?

Maybe not every unhappy girl, but definitely you.

Lupin shook his head. “Babe. Life's a buncha of distractions, y'know.” Eventually, Lupin brings your hand to his lips, looking down at you with soft brown eyes. “You’re nervous, I get that. Change is scary. But what else is there for you? This dead-end marriage? You’ve got the chance to have some real fun. With me. Nothing will be the same, but that'll be the fun of it all. You won’t ever be bored, I can promise you that. You won’t ever have to sit there dawn to dusk wondering if this is all you’ll ever have left. You don't want to get old here of all places do you?”

You’re silent for a moment, genuinely contemplating his words before you begin to laugh. He arches a brow. Normally, Lupin loved making you laugh. It's nice to see a smile on your face, especially when your default seems to be a lost, tired look in your eyes paired with a frown. You're prettier smiling, he's decided, when he sees your eyes light up. And lord knows how Lupin likes his pretty women.

“Wow. All that for a little one night stand?” You ask, thoroughly entertained with his little monologue.

“Awww, (Y/N), sweetie, don’t be like that,” Lupin whines, a bit of a frustrated pout appearing on his face. Then came his usual smirk. "You're more like an insert unspecified number here night stand to me. Have you been counting? I haven't, sorta lost track over the months-"

You smacked his shoulder and rolled over quickly, faking mock anger with a huffy "Lupin!"

He reads you well enough to know you're not actually angry with him. Lupin's arm curled back around you once more, drawing you close to him. His chin brushes over your shoulder as he began to nip lightly at your neck and ear, sending electric little shivers throughout your body. Sparks. That's what you'd call this feeling.

"Come onn...you know you want me to steal you...come on come on come on come on-"

His specialty is being annoying on purpose. Still, you couldn't help but smile as his lips brushed over the corner of your mouth. You shrug away for the sake of making him work for it. You're well aware that playing a little hard to get really gets Lupin going.

"I thought you only steal valuables," you said, giving him an exasperated glance through half lidded eyes.

You can feel his lips pull into a smirk against your skin. "Mhm. I do. You're like jewels I can fu-"

Lightly, you elbowed him in the stomach before he could finish, cutting him off as your face began to burn and the usual blush spread across your cheeks. It's random things from him that get you like this. You never see it coming. Why'd you even tease him in the first place? He can always finish what you've started--he's proved that to you numerous times without fail.

Eventually, as his arms settle back around you, you turn to face him.

"I'll...think about it, okay?" You said, voice soft.

Lupin's lips finally met yours, unusually lightly. His chin came to rest in the crook of your neck.

"Don't think too hard about it. You're too pretty to be all...stressed out, y'know?"

You nod lightly, feeling much too drowsy to actually respond. He makes you feel safe...it feels right, being with him like this. You can't exactly blame yourself for falling asleep so quickly, wrapped in his arms. He'd gone a good few rounds with you, spanning at least a few hours--probably the longest, most intense session you've had with him yet. And still, you figure it'll only get better from here. There's no downhill with Lupin. It feels like it's only up.

But just like usual, even though you fell asleep tight in his arms...

You wake up alone.

A soft sigh leaves you as you wrap your own arms around yourself, trying to replicate his own.

It's not the same. It never is.

You wonder if it's sad, maybe a scooch pathetic, that he's the first thing you think of when you awaken. After a few moments, laying alone, face pressed almost mournfully into the sheets, you stretch and sit up. Clutching the sheets to your chest, you looked over and out of the open window through bleary eyes as the early dawn breeze wound through your hair.

It almost felt like Lupin left the window open on purpose. Like he was trying to beckon you out of this place. Like he was showing you just how easy it would be to leave with him. Just a window away.

What do I have to lose?

Surprisingly, Lupin left you alone for almost a week.

You hadn't realized then that he wouldn't be coming back for that long. For the first few days, you'd grown worried and started reading the piled up newspapers at the front door. Or you'd tune into the news channels, flipping through them anxiously, in case there was any word of the police finally apprehending him. Lupin speaks of a particular inspector often to you, with a sort of fondness you find strange. How could one be so attached to someone whose life goal was putting them in prison? Only Lupin knows.

However, there was ultimately nothing to be found. It all seemed like he was just making you go cold turkey without him. Maybe like he's trying to show you what it would be like if you didn't come with him. It felt...manipulative but you doubt that's his actual intention. Lupin's cunning and knows how to play his cards right and pull strings, but you didn't think he'd ever do it to hurt you or force you to do something you didn't want to do. It came off more like Lupin was just trying to give you space to think properly. For once, he wasn't going to cheat or push into getting the answer he wanted. Or to get something he wanted, that something being you.

Part of you almost wished he had just made the decision for you. That he'd just swept you away from this fucking cold, empty house without even giving you the chance to think twice. But you know that'd be wrong and unfair to you. And you figure he knows that as well.

The week without him felt strange and empty and like it wasn't real at all. Like time was standing still. It reminds you all too clearly of the period of time after your wedding, after the honeymoon, when your husband had resumed his frequent business trips and left you all alone here. You hate remembering the feeling. You hate living without Lupin.

It's the answer you needed.

And ultimately, you were grateful that Lupin had skipped out on his little late night visits for that week, considering that your oh so beloved husband had returned unexpectedly. You'd known it was him, because he'd come in through the front door. Lupin much prefers your bedroom window. He's fun like that.

Your husband, on the other hand, doesn't even cast a glance in your direction.

You slept in a guest room that night. You'd planned to use "not feeling well" as an excuse to do so, but he didn't question you about it in the first place, so you figured it was unneeded. He just didn't care. His indifference makes you bitter, like it always does.

Lupin would be sneaking into this bed right now. Or he'd be dragging me into his. He wouldn't just...just let me leave so easy. He'd actually try.

Lupin this and Lupin that, are you becoming obsessive? Funny how you don't realize what you have until it's disappeared for most of the week.

To your relief, your husband was only back for a measly two days before leaving once more on yet another business trip. You doubted he even unpacked his suitcase when he'd arrived before. There was no hug or kiss or bidding goodbye. Just a note in the kitchen. His flight had left early that morning.

That night, you found yourself resting your arms upon the windowsill. The breeze chills your fingertips as you breathe in deeply.

"You look pretty like that, y'know. The moonlight hits your face juuuust right."

At the sound of his voice, you smile. God how you've missed him. You glanced over in the direction of his voice, leaning further out the window so you could see him entirely. As usual, Lupin was standing on the roof. He had his hands up, palms facing you, his long fingers angled like he was framing you for a photo.

You can't think of anything to say. Just his name.

"Lupin..." soft on your lips.

He grins, tucking his hands in his pockets as he comes closer to the window. He crouches in front of you, one of his hands grabbing yours. "You been waiting for me?"

You nodded. "Feels more like you've been waiting on me, Lupin."

He shrugged. "Eh, I kept myself busy this week. Wanted to give you time to yourself. Y'know, no interference..." A more serious look appears on his face. "It's a big decision and it'd be...it'd be wrong to not play fair this time." "Awww," you coo. "You suddenly grew a conscience this week? Just for me?"

His sudden solemness had made you uncomfortable and reminded you all too much of the stone-like expression of your husband. Hopefully, your teasing would get him to loosen up a little bit...

His eyebrows raise, with mock offense. "Hey! I have a conscience!"

You laughed. It's funny to get him worked up, even if he's faking it. Lupin's hand tightens around yours suddenly. He casts a glance downwards. Yours follows and you suddenly notice the car pulled into the driveway. You'd been so lost in the night sky earlier that you hadn't even noticed it pull in.

"Jigen's got the car started already..." Lupin told you, voice growing a bit quieter. His other hand reached out for you to take, as if he wasn't currently gripping your other hand already.

You cock your head to the side, trying to ignore the gravity of it all. You're actually doing this. Holy shit. You're actually doing this...

"Oh, I'm sure he's very pleased to be dragged into all of this."

Lupin shrugs with his usual smile. "It's not the first time he's gotten "dragged" into my affairs. Guess he'll just have to get used to it."

Finally, you reached to take his hand. At the last moment, for your own amusement, you faked him out, quickly pulling your hand away. His fingers closed around nothing and he let out an extremely overdramatic gasp of shock. Then, a mischievous look crossed over his face. Lupin lunged forwards, wrestling you in order to grab your hand. Once he managed to get ahold of it, he brought it close to his face, pressing a mocking kiss to the back of it as he looked up at you. He brings out an almost childish side of you--which inspires you to stick your tongue out at him, pulling a face.

"Ewwwww-" your whine cuts off with a gasp as Lupin suddenly pulled you out of the window and into his arms with practiced ease.

"Ewwwww," he mocked, pulling a face similar to yours.

He stands up fully, arms wrapping around you tighter so his chest presses to yours. His lips push up against yours and you figured that if you'd let him, he'd have found a way to go beyond just a kiss and have you naked on your own roof. The thought of it is tempting before you remember that there's another man waiting in a car below.

With ease, Lupin suddenly sweeps your legs out from underneath you. Quickly, your arms wrap around him, like second nature. His own excitement is obvious as he quickly and easily maneuvers down the sloped roof. It almost was like you were weightless to him. You don't fear for your safety in his arms. Not for one second. Even as he jumps down into the car below, you trust him entirely. Still, you gasped lightly as you bounced in his lap.

The man driving seemed like he really didn't want to be there. You guessed that this was the "Jigen" Lupin had spoken of now and then. From what you've heard, he's not one to be fucked with.

The last of a giggle fading from you, you cleared your throat.

"Hi, uhm...Jigen, isn't it?" You asked, a bit sheepishly.

The man gives you a sideways glance, tipping his hat with a slight nod. "Yeah." And then he was back to smoking his cigarette.

Instantly, Lupin goes to ruin the mood. Still, it was a welcome distraction from the awkwardness of interacting with his rather stone-faced, gruff best friend. How they were working together with how different they were was a question you'd have to save for another time. Particularly one where Lupin wasn't pressing kisses all over your face to the point where it was overwhelming--taking your breath away.

"Step on it!" Lupin orders between kisses.

As the night wind begins to blow through your hair, you didn't look back.

You told yourself you'd never look back.

#one shot #lupin iii #arsene lupin iii #lupin iii x reader

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

promise?

lupin iii x reader

3.3k words

It's not often you have the chance to get away from everything and just go an have a good time. It's been awhile since you've let loose, so obviously when some old friends from college started texting you, inviting you to some sleazy club downtown, who were you to decline? You had nothing planned that night, nor the next morning, so you were happy to show up. That and you seriously needed a break from your current crowd--that crowd mostly being one man and his weird gang of criminals.

Downing shots at the bar, flooded with neon lights, is the closest you've come to normalcy in quite a few months.

Unfortunately, during your quest to reach the bottom of every glass put in your hand, you failed to notice your old college friends were disappearing one by one. Some snuck away with men you'd never seen into alleys, into corners, into bathrooms, until you were the only one left. You waited for them for what felt like a couple of hours before the bar slowly started to die and more and more people left. You'd decided to keep on drinking and keep your buzz going, for the sake of not feeling scared and alone. Liquid, burning confidence was all you needed to power through the night, with your old shitty friends or without.

As the pickings got slimmer in the bar, ultimately, a strange man approached you. Even in your drunken haze, you knew you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, and definitely wanted his hand off your arm. He seemed to have nothing but evil intentions as he practically dragged you towards one of the doors that lead out into the equally sleazy, dark back alley.

"Look, fuck off," you slurred out at one point, trying to tear your arm from his grasp.

"Come on, just come with me. It's not like anyone else is waiting around here for you, darling. I saw the bartender cut you off earlier--there's more booze outside, I know where to get it."

Even though you were fucked up you knew it was a lie.

You dug your heels into the ground stubbornly, wishing you'd had a knife or a taser on you at the moment. You hadn't anticipated on needing one, since you'd gone into the club thinking your friends were going to be sticking around. You cursed them mentally, recalling all their baseless claims of "hoes before bros" or whatever the fuck else they'd lied about.

Helplessly, you glanced around, hoping that someone, anyone was seeing this and would help you out here. This creep was seriously fucking with your buzz.

"I don't think the lady appreciates you dragging her around like that."

God dammit. Someone, anyone, except him.

Just like you'd failed to notice your "friends" bailing on you, you'd also failed to notice watchful eyes on you the whole night, accompanied with an obnoxiously bright jacket.

"Why don't you mind your fucking business, asshole? Me and this bitch are just goin' out back." the man with his hand around your arm spat back. You winced when his grip tightened and cursed under your breath.

Lupin's hand finds your waist as he squares himself directly up with the other man. They're the same height, but Lupin's overconfidence seems to make him bigger. He shakes his head.

"Sorry, but this bitch is my business, buddy." Lupin's head cocks to the side slightly. You're too terrified at the moment to elbow him. "So-" with his free hand he lifts his jacket, making an obvious show of the gun at his narrow hip. "I suggest you get lost."

The gun's more than enough to convince the man to let go of you. Quickly, you pull your arm close. You can't help but get closer to Lupin in the moment, terrified that the guy would change his mind suddenly. He doesn't. Instead, he stalks off, grumbling, as he heads for that back alley door, thankfully without you. Relieved, you sigh.

Then, you promptly, tear Lupin's arm away from your waist and start making a beeline for the bar. You knew you'd been cut off hours ago but you just wanted to get away from the annoying nuisance that was Lupin III for like ten minutes. To say you were irritated was an understatement. The one night in months you were finally going to have to yourself and here he was!

Obviously, shoving him off wasn't enough to discourage him. When was it ever?

You couldn't hear whatever the hell he was trying to tell you as you stomped off towards the bar. Realizing that almost no one else was there for you to make conversation with in order to ignore Lupin, you turned and started for the door. Obviously, your change in direction didn't throw him off at all.

The night air hits your face and you grow unexplainably angry when you hear the door open again behind you. You already knew who it was. Frustrated, you begin to walk.

"Where do you live, baby, I'm gonna walk you home."

"I'm fine," you respond coldly, as Lupin trails behind you.

Your face flushes when you unexpectedly lose your balance, stiletto catching on a groove in the sidewalk. Damn your heels. Lupin's quick to wrap his arms around you, saving you from smashing your face on cold pavement. He holds you, still angled in his arms, smiling down at you obnoxiously as you cross your arms and cast your gaze off else where for the sake of being spiteful.

"Actually, you're not," Lupin says, looking way too pleased about it than he should have been, "Now be a doll and let me help you." He finally pulls you fully to your feet, hands still at the small of your back. When you're quiet for a moment too long, he keeps going. "I'll just keep bothering you and following you until you get home safely, I've got nothing going on tonight, just sayin-"

"Alright! God, fucking Christ...Jus..just shut up for a second..." The fact that you genuinely needed a moment to remember where you lived made you think that maaaaybe Lupin might have been right to walk you home. Then you immediately banish that though from your head because you would rather rip your hair out than ever admit that Lupin was right.

How embarrassing. Pushing some of your hair behind your ear, you glance off to the side and mutter an address before turning to point a bit lazily in the direction of the apartment complex you were staying at.

As much as you wanted to hate him and feel repulsed just by touching him, leaning up against him was actually super helpful and not the worst thing in the world to your surprise. He was surprisingly steady and didn't seem to mind your weight on him at all, much less notice. He was stronger than he looked, you noticed. At the moment, you were extremely happy your cheeks were flushed from how drunk you were, so he wouldn't be able to tease you for blushing at all. That ultimately wouldn't matter, because if you knew Lupin like you knew Lupin, he'd find something else to tease you for and flirt over.

You nearly fell asleep on him in the elevator, which he instantly jumped on.

"Awww, you're so cute when you're falling asleep..." His hand squeezes at your hip gently.

The flushed anger wakes you up faster than anything else ever could. "Shut up I think your face looks fucking stupid shave your sideburns. Idiot."

Apparently, to Lupin there is absolutely nothing funnier than your drunken mumbling because it was enough to put him into tears.

It doesn't get any easier when the elevator finally gets to your floor. Between his general unfamiliarity with where you lived and your less-than-sharp state of mind, trying to figure out which apartment was yours was close to a nightmare. You just knew the number definitely started with a two. Honestly, there was no one better you could have had walk you back, because it didn't take Lupin all that long to narrow down which apartment was yours based on mathematics alone. That or it could have been because he snuck your phone out of your pocket when you weren't paying attention and looked through your notes to find the room number.

At that point, you were pretty exhausted, too tired to throw anymore slurred insults at him or give him a hard time. You just gave in, allowing him to eventually pick you straight up off the ground. Your head nods slightly as you fight off sleep once more.

"Sooo, you're a sleepy angry drunk, then I guess. I'm more of a romantic myself when I've had one too many, but when am I not, really?" He giggles like he's just told the funniest joke in the whole world.

"...Mhmm..." was the closest to a response he managed to get out of you. Admittedly, the more tired you got, the more you seemed to cuddle right up to him, which he infinitely enjoyed. He could get used to having you like this. Better savor it now because he figured the chance of you going out drinking again would be pretty low for awhile.

Eventually, Lupin shoulders open the apartment door. It's small enough for him easily to find your bed, which was unmade. A bit of jealousy flashed across him. Were you with someone else earlier? As his brow furrowed, he didn't notice your arms reaching up around his shoulders and tightening slowly as you buried your face into his chest, letting out a soft moan into his tie. As he went to drop you onto the mattress, you gripped him tighter. Lupin swore as he lost his balance and you dragged him down onto the bed too.

"(Y/N)-" he starts, after attempting to wrestle out of your grip and being unsuccessful. A bit of a frustrated, drawn out whine came from you every time he tried to shift away, which was actually pretty cute to him. He cuts himself off after realizing that this was about the clingiest someone's been to him in awhile.

It was kinda...welcome.

No one would be upset if he didn't make it back tonight; it certainly wasn't out of character for him to disappear somewhere with someone.

Almost too eagerly, Lupin's arms wrapped back around you. Pleased that he'd finally given in, you lean closer against him, head nestling up against his chest. Your eyes were still shut as you muttered something unintelligible to him. Lupin leaned back into the mattress, making himself more comfortable as his hand went to the back of your head.

"You're kinda cute when you're fucked up," he told you, sweeping some of your hair away from your face.

The most he managed to understand from your response was something along the lines of "mmmmm".

It was almost upsetting to Lupin that when you awoke the next morning, whatever spirit had possessed you to cling to him like this would be long gone. Booze, he decided. The spirit of booze.

You were more upset about the splitting headache you awoke with, instead, however. You were surprised that you'd managed to stay asleep for the entire night, as usually you were a restless sleeper during nights like these. And then you feel a warm body beneath you, touching you. Startled, you bolted upright, despite the pounding in your head.

Fuck. FUCK.

"Oh no..." was what you whispered out instead.

Why is LUPIN in my BED?! With ME?!

He was still sleeping soundly, somehow looking more smug than usual, even in his sleep. Panic taking you over, you smack his chest, hard, with the back of your hand. Slowly, Lupin stirs, stretching out with a slight groan. As he did so, his arm reached over your shoulder, pulling you back down to the mattress, wrapping around you tightly.

"Lupin?! What the actual fuck?" You manage, confused out of your goddamned mind.

His head turns slightly so he can look at you, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "Sleep good, lover?"

Your face turns bright red almost instantly.

Nononononononononofuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfu-

"Did we...?" You manage, voice turning shrill with horror.

Lupin's head cocked slightly to the side. Once again, he fixes you with that wide smile of his. He raises an eyebrow. "Would you be mad if we did?"

It's like your blood turned to ice in your veins.

"LUPIN-"

Before you can even start your rant, his hand squeezes at your shoulder and he giggles. "Relaxxx, I'm just messing with ya. I'm a gentleman, remember? I don't take advantage of ladies. Not even shitfaced ones." Hats off for basic fucking decency. Lord what you would give to erase that smug fucking look off his face...

You scowl at him. "You want a pat on the back for doing the bare minimum?" You seethed.

How the fuck did this...this asshole know exactly what to say to get under your skin as quickly as possible? Did he do it on purpose? Were you just more irritable because you were hung over as shit? Probably yes to both.

Lupin shrugged lazily. "I did keep you nice and safe and warm all night so..."

Finally you shifted your shoulder so you could slide out from under his arm. You sat up once more, drawing your knees up to your chest. Almost tiredly, your head finds its way into your hands as you take a deep breath before exhaling. Overall you just can't shake the feeling of...shame? Not even innocent, shallow embarrassment anymore, just straight up shame.

"Please, don't tell anyone about this," you mutter as one of Lupin's hands played with your hair. The hostility has dropped from your voice in favor of a sort of dry desperation.

"Hmmm...what's in it for me?" Lupin asked all too coyly.

A frustrated sigh escapes you. "I-I don't know, my head is pounding so hard I can barely think straight."

You can feel him lean closer to you. Fuck.

"How about a kiss? Just a little one."

You don't know how it's possible but he's managed to sink to a new level of desperation and your head has managed to sink even harder into your hands as your face flushes hotter. You take another slow breath, trying to ground yourself before you attack him. It's a tempting option but in a way, he's right, he did get you home safe and you figured this would be the quickest way to get him out of your apartment.

Eventually, you lift your head from your hands, resting your chin upon your drawn up knees.

"I'm literally fucked up, stone cold hungover, and you still can't keep it in your pants?"

Lupin huffed and you glanced over at him. "It's not my fault you look all sexy and messy when you wake up, baby. Almost makes me wish we did do something last night."

Wisely, you chose to ignore the last of his lewd comment. Your legs stretched back under the sheets as you sit up a little straighter for the sake of waking up a little faster and getting this all over with. You roll your eyes at him as he grins, watching you.

"Just one," you eventually mutter, showing him a singular, definitive finger on the off chance he wanted to try and play dumb. "Enjoy my drunk morning breath, hope you're happy with yourself."

He seems to enjoy your antics (when doesn't he?), reaching out to take hold of your wrist to draw you closer. "Ohh I will be, missy. Right about..."

Lupin leaned forwards, tilting your head with long, narrow fingers so that his lips could properly meet yours. You can only feel anticipation if anything else. You stiffen up instinctually as he finally kisses you. After about a few seconds, it's starting to feel like it's all been going on for far too long. And then, suddenly, before you can pull away, Lupin's on top of you, pushing you down into the mattress. One of your hands goes to the side of his face, remaining motionless there out of shock before you feel his tongue pushing past your lips and snap out of it. You could feel his fingers gripping at your waist as you start to shove at his face.

"Mmmph...LUPIN!" you manage as you wrench your own head to the side and break the kiss with a gasp. Irritated, you wipe an arm over your mouth as you glare at him. He only smiles at you again, your head caged between either of his hands.

"You'd be a good kisser if you tried," he commented, all too obnoxiously. He makes a move towards your cheek and his lips barely graze over your skin again as you shrug away from him, arms wrapping around yourself.

"Wow! Thanks, Lupin!" You said, voice raising with mock enthusiasm. "I don't care! Now leave!" Harshly, you point in the direction of the door.

Melodramatically, Lupin sighed. "You sure you don't want me to take care of you?" He jabbed a finger into your side obnoxiously and it took everything you had not to knee him in the dick.

Slowly, you spoke, emphasizing each word. "I cannot possible exaggerate to you just how much I want you to leave my home right now."

His head tilts to the side as he stares down at you. There's no usual smug grin on his face.

"You sure you're fine?"

You take a moment.

What you'd first mistaken as him being annoying on purpose seemed to be...genuine concern. Like he actually cares about you beyond something sexual. Man that's cruel...

Lupin's palm pressed up against your cheek. Softly, you sighed, and you couldn't help leaning into his hand. Just a little bit. But it's enough for him to feel. It's so...exhausting to constant be hating him. It's tiring to keep your guard up and be so bitter all the time, seemingly without reason to him. But he doesn't know. He doesn't know that you've been with people like him time and time again and knows exactly what to expect. How else were you supposed to stop people like him from hurting people like you? That's what his type does right? Suave and confident, they sweep you off your feet, they sneak into your bed, your home, your heart, your mind and then they leave when they find something new to lust over. Like it's all a game to them.

You look at Lupin through tired, half-shut eyes.

And you know you're not his only.

But somehow, right now, in this moment, that didn't seem to matter to you.

"Yes, I promise," you eventually said, after a long moment of silence. "If I need anything, I'll call you, okay? Only you." Almost...afraid, your hand crept up slowly to hold over the back of his. You can feel the coarse hair beneath your palm as your grip tightens, just a little bit. You thought you'd been going to move his hand from your face. But your own just...stayed.

Lupin's thumb stroked faintly over your cheek, over your skin, almost...lovingly?

He's capable of romance like this, of flirting and the works, you know he is. But you've never really felt this sort of tenderness from him before. Genuineness, that's what it feels like. Something beyond his usual horndog , playboy type shit. The idea of getting plastered more often to see this softer side of him is tempting to say the least...

"Promise?" he asked.

You nodded. "Promise."

#one shot #lupin iii #arsene lupin iii #lupin iii x reader

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

sick and twisted and all too pleasurable

il dottore x reader

nsfw

6.3k words

A deal had been made.

To save your family from a mysterious illness that had struck the town weeks ago, a deal had been made. No one had the cure. No regular doctor at least.

But you'd known of one. The Fatui harbinger, known only by his title, Il Dottore.

You've heard nothing but awful things about him. That being because he happened to be settled nearby currently, somewhere in the mountains, probably tinkering among the numerous abandoned ruins and facilities that people claim are haunted or cursed. His arrival some months ago seemed to have brought about a certain unease to everywhere within a twenty mile radius of him.

But he's your last option. The very last man you can think of going to.

Or they'll die. The people you care about will die if you don't do this, if you don't go to Il Dottore.

You'd heard he fancied the abandoned factories up near the mountains. He had a thing for fixing up broken mechanics and tinkering with the ancient. The type who can't resist keeping his nose out of a good set of ruins.

There's dozens in the mountains, all of which had once provided a booming industrial hotspot. But that was eons ago. How far your home has fallen...You can only hope that you've picked the right one on your first try, not caring to poke through the cobwebs and painful memories of the others.

The looming doors were unlocked. You couldn't believe your good fortune.

Your luck seemed to run out around the same time you found yourself stumbling across some of the Fatui, who had been patrolling the grounds. If that's not a hint this esteemed Il Dottore guy is nearby, nothing is. Unfortunately, you didn't have a lot of time to pat yourself on the back for having this revelation, much less testing your theory.

You stand no chance against them.

As they grab your arms and begin to drag you out, ignoring your cries of pain, you still struggled. They're stronger than you, but you're far more desperate than they'll ever be.

You beg, pitiful tears beginning to gather and burn at the corners of your eyes. "Wait, wait! Please! Take me to Il Dottore! Please, it's important!" You give one more good thrash, practically yanking your arm out of its socket. "I have to see him!"

It's like he can smell the desperation on you. And like a shark, when he smells that blood in the water, he's drawn near.

There's a voice, unlike those of the Fatui currently wrestling you away from the slowly thrumming heart of the facility.

"Stop that, now," it demands. The Fatui fall still at the sound, hands still iron-gripped onto your arms. "Let go of the girl."

Hesitantly they do so. They remain close by, flanking you, ready to grab you once more. You shoot one of them a rather nasty glare, rubbing at the reddened spots on your arm where they'd manhandled you. You look away from them to see a man approaching.

Instantly you know it's him.

You've never seen him in photographs, you've never had him described to you, at least, not physically. People tend to lean more towards terms like 'madman' and 'psychopath' when it comes to Dottore. They don't usually remember the mention that he's tall, has a thick head of blue, wild curls and a smile like a shark with eyes to match.

You sense a change in the demeanor of the Fatui flanking you. Are they...scared of him too?

You suddenly regret coming here, seeing Dottore's eyes flash in the dim light behind that mask as he comes to a stop no more than a few inches in front of you.

It's nerve wracking, standing before him. You can't help but shrink away, just a little bit, which he notices. His grin widens. He's larger than life.

"Well?" he asks, voice cutting through the thick silence like a scalpel through skin. "I'm sure you didn't come all this way to gawk at me. Spit it out." His words are icy, but that grin remains on his face, like it's carved into it. What an oddball...

Despite the growing urge to throw up a white flag and run for your life, you take a deep breath to calm yourself. You stand up a little straighter, which won't make him forget your moment of weakness before. You cast another side-eyed glance at the Fatui nearby you. Although they clearly don't want to be here, nearby Dottore either, their presence is suffocating and anything but comforting.

You start, a little shaky. "No. I-I didn't." You force your voice to steady. "I...I came to ask for your help, doctor."

The gaze of the Fatui that'd roughed you up burns into you. You're barely able to stop yourself from shooting a scowl in either of their directions.

Dottore clicks his tongue, crossing his arms. His gloved finger taps at his forearm, as he seems to momentarily ponder your words. His piercing eyes shift from you to the Fatui lurking behind you. Somehow, they're still less shark-like than he is.

"Hm. You two make like a tree and fuck off."

"Sir-" one of them tries to argue.

Dottore simply scoffs. He closes the space between the two of you to throw a weirdly strong arm over your shoulders, yanking you closer to him. He gestures to you. Being so close to him is fucking petrifying. He feels practically every muscle in your body stiffen at his touch. He smells like...disinfectant. Iron-y too. Like blood maybe. The way pennies taste.

His hand squeezes at your shoulder and you wonder if it may have been better to let the two Fatui standing before you throw you out of the facility instead.

"Look at her," Dottore demands. "No vision. No weapon. She's no threat." He turned his head to look at you. His other hand suddenly grabs at your chin, to lift your head, like you're no more than a doll to him. "You didn't come to kill me, did you, dear?" He asks, his head cocking to the side.

You can't even find your voice to respond. It seemed like he didn't intend on letting you, or even listening if you did, in the first place.

"No?" He answers his own question. "Didn't think so."

You simply look at him, stunned for another few seconds, before he releases your face and his head turns so he can fix his gaze back on the Fatui. They don't question him any further. In fact, they same way too eager to take the opportunity to leave.

Looks like his bodyguards don't really like him either.

That should scare you.

"Come on, love. Walk with me? I've still much to see of this place and I'd rather not have you wast any more of my very precious time."

He overwhelms you too much for you to even process the new pet name. "Ye-yes of course. Sorry." You still need a favor for him. So for now, you'll stay on your best behavior. Let him push your boundaries a little bit. You could be saving lives. They all depend on this deal going well.

You watch him look over almost every crack and crevice of the facility. The cobwebs and dust don't seem to bother him at all. Even when it gets in his hair, he seems to ignore it.

You wait for him to address you first.

"Awful quiet for someone who came to ask for my help. What is it that you need?" he asks, as his fingers trace along what remains of some torn up machinery.

"Sorry, I didn't want to...interrupt you." You clear your throat. "Well, I'm here because there's something going on in my part of the city. The, uhm, the west side of it. But the problem could spread, I think. There's some weird disease going around and-"

"Describe the symptoms of it to me. Spare no detail, no matter how gruesome. I do love the details..." His hand traces slowly along a gear.

You swallow your discomfort. "Uhm. Blood. From every part of the body. And I mean every. A nasty cough too. Chills, unexplained aches. On the fourth day they go rigid and on the fifth...well. They...they die."

"Rigid when they die?"

You shiver. Dottore's eyes shift to glance at you as you wrap your arms around yourself, casting your own gaze down at your feet. He drinks in your discomfort. Like he knows you skipped details on purpose.

"N-no. It's almost like they seize. I think that's what it is. Like a seizure. They don't go peacefully. They cry, and beg, and scream to be put out of their misery. They-they say it burns. Like their insides are aflame. I've seen some of them get restrained--it's so violent. It goes on for hours too." You look up from the floor and find Dottore, once again, far too close to you. Your arms tighten around yourself. "And...and then they die."

"Interesting."

Interesting?! It takes every fiber of your being to not slap him across the face. Instead, you take a sharp breath and wisely choose to avert eye contact once more.

He's a Fatui Harbinger, of course he's callous and cold to the suffering of others, why wouldn't he be? Especially when, if the rumors are true, he especially likes bringing on the pain in the first place. You remind yourself that Dottore is one of the more sadistic members of their ranks...

Dottore snaps his fingers to get your attention. Normally, you'd find that irritating. You decide to take it, just for now, biting back any irritated words.

"How about a little deal?" he offers. Upon seeing the look on your face you weren't quick enough to disguise, he presses on. "It may be to your liking..."

You bite the inside of your cheek. He can see the sudden nervousness on your face. And that's when he knows he's already got you. He could say anything next and he knew you wouldn't back out. Not when you're this far in.

His tongue draws, just slightly over his lips--what shows of them. "Let me test on you," he says, almost breathless. The doctor's enthusiasm is crystal on his face. "You've been exposed to this...disease haven't you? And, obviously, you have yet to succumb to it, much less display any of those nasty little symptoms. You'd be perfect."

Before you can let yourself overthink it all, you open your mouth to agree. Suddenly, he covers it with a gloved hand, muffling the beginning of your all-too enthusiastic agreement.

"I'm not finished yet, my dear." His voice is gentle, quiet even now, but there's still a certain sort of sinisterness to him. "The job is tedious. Torturous, even. I am not a man of ethical science. But I am a man who can give you solutions that ethical science will not produce. Much too slow of a process...and you wouldn't want anymore people to die, now would you? I imagine speed is quite crucial to your situation."

Dottore knows exactly what to say to keep you playing right into his waiting hands. You'll give yourself up for what you think is the greater good--for the general population of your home. One of the many pitfalls of empathy, he presumes. He finds your desperate enthusiasm almost tragically humorous. Those strangers don't deserve your sacrifice...what a waste.

His hand finally leaves your mouth.

"I wanted you to be aware of that," Dottore tells you, "before you so stupidly agree to be my subject. I won't be gentle. Do you understand that?"

You set your jaw, irritated with his condescension. You arms cross, tight, over your body. "I do. And I don't care. This is worth it to me."

Not even a hint of doubt in your voice, but maybe the slightest shadow in your eyes, like your mind doesn't agree. Like you know better. Like you know he's dangerous. And he knows you know, and this makes him all the more enamored.

Dottore's grin widens, which you didn't think was physically possible. A bit of a chuckle escapes him, which is a red flag impossible to ignore. Like you hadn't noticed all the previous ones. You're no bull, charging towards them. You're just in the slaughterhouse, being pushed towards a stunbolt gun with little to no choice in the matter. Yet you've put yourself in there. Willingly. Knowingly.

How fascinating.

He wonders if you have some sort of death wish. A topic for another time perhaps.

"Then I'll draw up a contract. But for now..." He takes you by the arm, with intent to lead you to where he properly works. Your gaze darts up to him, momentarily, nervousness and flash of regret all too obvious. Too late to back out now. His hand squeezes tighter. "It's all verbal agreement."

Funny thing is you can't actually remember ever signing that contract. Well, you remembered the contract existing. You remember his hand on top of yours, controlling it, as your shoulder slumped and you could barely keep your eyes open in a drug-induced haze. You remember his voice in your ear, but you can't remember what he had said.

But Dottore did not lie to you.

His experimentation is nothing short of brutal, brutal torture.

Sometimes you wonder if there was ever a time where there wasn't a knife or a scalpel in your body somewhere, if there was ever a time you were fully conscious. It's all flashes here and there. Painful flashes.

Sometimes when it's all too much for you to bare, his constant experimentation, the pokes and jabs and needles and cuts and intrusive examinations, you cry out, begging him to stop. Begging to leave. You beg him to let you go. To which he simply responds by giving your head a light playful shake and holding up a piece of paper--the contract--with your messy signature in fucking black ink.

"You signed the contract, doll. No turning back, remember? Won't you be strong for me? Chin up now..."

To which you usually responded with another flood of tears and soft begging and whimpering.

Sometimes you make the doctor...feel.

Sometimes he'll let your hand drift into his, and squeeze. Sometimes he'll wipe the tears from under your eyes, almost too gently. With a surgeon's touch he didn't usually bare.

When he does take pity on you, it's for the sake of pleasure. Going so long with only so much pain could drive you mad, he figured. And while he would love to see you meltdown, for him, he doesn't want you to close yourself off from him and become unreachable. Unable to play with him, for a lack of better words.

So it's not uncommon for his lips to suddenly be on yours, fingers beginning to trace down your thighs and stroke between your legs. Just to give you a different sensation.

His name his name his name. It's all you can think. All you can say.

Often times, your legs tighten around his hand, so desperate for his touch. He'll tear it away, as mercilessly as usual, despite your begging for him. But then he'll grab your hips to bring them closer, pull you off the cold metal of the operation table and into his waiting arms.

He'll kiss up your heavily bandaged arms, kiss at the bruises his needles have created.

Dottore's taken so much of your blood. You wonder if he's close to finding a cure. That's what he'd promised hadn't he?

"You know, my dear, you're one of a kind," he'll tell you, voice light and breezy. You're never sure if he means it or if he's being sweet to get you to open your legs wider for him. It tends to work. But then his tone grows darker, more sinister. "I want you forever."

You can only murmur back, "Forever?" And he lifts you slightly, fingers arched at your back as he draws you into his chest. You see fuzzy white. His shirt, you imagine.

"Don't you want that?" Dottore asks. "I make you feel good. You make me feel good."

Your brows knot slightly, with confusion strong enough that for once you feel something other than the drug-induced haze. "But...you hurt me sometimes."

Dottore simply shrugs, running a hand over your hair. "A low price for the pleasure, is it not?"

You shake your head, groggily. "That's not what this is about. Th-the cure. I...I don't mean to push, Dottore, but are you any closer to finding it?" Your tired eyes dart up to meet his. For someone who's unconscious so often, you boast deep, dark circles indicative of nothing short of restless sleep. He doesn't mind them. He thinks they bring out the (E/C) in your eyes.

"Closer with every day, love."

You think he's lying to you.

But you don't have time to think it through. The way he's sucking at your neck like a man starved has you distracted and your mind fuzzy all over again. Dottore's arm presses up against you tighter. His other hand traces along your forearm, bruised and reddened with needle marks, before coming to clasp at your hand. He extends your arm out, slowly, before starting to press slow kisses along your shoulder and neck. You moan softly.

Eventually he seems to grow bored of your arm, letting it drop slow back to your side. His hand gropes, harshly, at your waist, moving slowly down to your ass. The long, thing piece of fabric that covers you, replacing the clothes you'd come into this lab with, provide him with easy access to your body.

"Please..." you murmur, voice quiet.

Dottore's grin widens. "I love the way you so shamelessly need me...to hear you beg for me? I need not atone for my sins, because there is no heaven, there is no bliss, that can come close to what your pleading brings me."

He's a freak, but he's honest. And you can't help but be charmed by it, by him, specifically.

The doctor's hand brushes down the back of your thigh, grabbing it and lifting your leg so his hips can grind into yours. A shaky sigh leaves you. His lips press up against yours. His kiss is so odd...The cold porcelain of his mask chills you skin to the touch, like juxtaposition to the warmth of what shows of his lips. When you don't kiss him back, lost in your own dragging thoughts, you feel his teeth dig slightly into your bottom lip. You shut your eyes, leaning up into him, letting his tongue push into your mouth. His hand continues to travel closer between your legs, reaching between them.

It used to hurt when he did things like this. Maybe it's a mixture of his roughness or your nervousness. But you're long past that issue. It's hard to feel nervous, in fact, it's hard to feel anything at all. But there is one sensation that reigns supreme, above the fear, the sharpness of the needle points.

Pleasure.

Perhaps worse than whatever drug he's administering to you every day with the claim that it's all part of the experiment, all part of his research. Because even without the drug's effects, you think you would have chosen to stay with him, like this. Just for the bliss. Just for the way he kisses you and holds you, the way he speaks to you. The way he feels in you. You can't recall ever being with a man like this before.

His fingers pump slowly into you, and your hips shift into his open palm needing. Your thoughts are chased from your mind as your eyes fall shut and you pant softly, chest stirring with every shaking breath. He grins against your skin. The way you’re so desperate for him…it’s hot. A burning streak of heat seems to shoot through your abdomen as his thumb pushes higher up, rubbing over your clit.

He knows your body so well he could draw its identical likeness on a sheet of paper.

Was he not a madman, he would have made one hell of an artist.

He's merciful enough not to toy with you today. Usually, he makes you work for it, drinking in your desperation. Still, you're left unsatisfied even after you cum, gasping as you try to catch your breath. You tremble lightly up against him, struggling to stay on your feet. You hold onto him tighter.

The hand once between your legs traces up your thigh, finding its way higher up to your face. Dottore grabs your chin and your blush intensifies at the dampness of his gloved fingers. His thumb pushes up against your lips. Obediently, you let your mouth fall open and he smiles, satisfied, as he traces his thumb along your tongue. You can taste yourself on the white fabric. A soft whimper comes from you and his smile widens to a grin--half hidden by that mask of his.

"You want more?" he asks, voice low.

You nod, lightly, his finger still in your mouth. Dottore runs it over your tongue one last time, almost thoughtfully before pulling it from your lips. His hands grip at your sides, shoving you up against the cold metal table behind you. A sharp gasp of pain on your end seems to only egg him on. You let your head fall back, staring up almost blankly at the ceiling. You can hear the sound of fabric shifting. His hand grip at your thigh, yanking it open.

You feel him at your entrance. Your head lifts, slightly. Slowly, he pushes in and you bite your bottom lip with a quick inhale. He fills you. God, he feels so good. His hands grip just below your ass, at the back of your thighs, shifting your hips slow against his. A soft exhale comes from him, as he leans into you, face nuzzling into your neck. You wouldn't be surprised if there's some sort of aphrodisiac in the vial that goes into your body like clockwork every day.

You've never fucked this much, this hard.

And he makes you want even more. Every. Time.

One day it'll consume you entirely, you're sure. And there'll be nothing of you left.

Your back takes the brunt of the edge of the operation table he so happily tears you open on time and time again. At the slight wince of pain from you, Dottore fucks into your harder, purposefully. Your arms wrap around him tighter in an obvious attempt to get closer to him and away from the icy metal.

But you don't care.

If anything, the pain enhances the pleasure.

You think he knows that, based on the way his thrusts become rougher, more violent, to the point where you know you'll be raw and red and sore once he's finished with you. And you're still so touchy from your last climax at his capable hands. His hips grind against yours, slowly, like he wants you to feel every inch of his skin against yours. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel an icy rush of euphoria flow through your body.

"So sensitive..." Dottore purrs, kissing up along your chin and jaw, as you try to hold on. As you try not to let the growing knot of pleasure in your core snap.

Your fingers weave through his hair, already having absentmindedly traveled up his neck. Your grip tightens on his scalp slightly as his cock hits perfectly against your insides. You practically collapse up against him, a moan slipping from your lips as your brows contort. Light perspiration is gathering at your hairline as he continues to thrust.

"So soft..."

The doctor's fingers suddenly tighten at your skin, digging into your flesh. You feel the porcelain of his mask push up against your jaw, before you feel him bitting down, hard, at your throat. You wince, giving a sharp cry of pain, accompanied by his stammered name. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a sort of electric chill grip at his spine at the sound of his name, whimpered off your tongue. His sweet-talking turns to a possessive hiss.

"So mine."

When he's finished with you he leaves you there on cold metal.

Alone.

And needing him.

More than you ever thought you would.

He'll wipe your tears away as you beg him not to leave you. You'll take his arm, wrapping your own around it, hugging it up against your bare chest between you breasts, cheek pushed hard into his hand like you'd never get to feel his touch again. He commits that sight to memory every single time. He wished he'd brought a Kamera with him before he'd left Fontaine...

But his arm tears away from you and none of your cries, none of your weeping or begging matters at all. Not to him anyways. He'll simply grin, hands tucked in his jacket pocket, pants still loose around his hips as he gives a light shake of his head and wanders off into whatever part of the factory catches his interest.

It's a cruel cycle.

It's cruel of him to make you feel nothing all the time, and to make you feel everything only when he's with you, only when he's in you. It's calculated. It's all part of his plan. An underhanded part of his little experiments. And it's working all too well.

He occupies your every thought. His voice haunts your mind and you can never escape. Not even in your restless dreams. When he's not there, you swear you can still feel his breath on your neck and his hand on your thigh.

Dottore will drive you mad.

Until the day you could stand it no longer.

The thought of escaping has surfaced once or twice in your thoughts, but you'd never dreamed of pursuing it. You either lose yourself to the test drug before you have the chance to think it out properly, or scare yourself out of it. Sometimes Dottore makes you second guess it too, he fucks you so good. But the thought becomes too recurring to ignore.

You blame him for leaving you alone for so long. You're not sure if it's part of his game, of making you need him more and lose yourself to obsession for him. But it could also be the latter, the worse...he's growing bored of you. At first, you'd blamed yourself. Should you have moaned louder, sucked harder, been a better lover to him? What had you done wrong? But then you realize he's fucking crazy and the embodiment of evil.

And he's had a chokehold on you for far too long.

He's left you without an injection for too long--alone with your thoughts which were becoming increasingly clearer and louder in your brain. The fog is lifting for the first time in months. And it feels awful but freeing all at once. The usual sedatives are wearing off. And when a shadow's cast over you and it isn't Dottore's? Well...it should have been his.

Had it been him administering the "test drug" as usual instead of the agent he'd been sending in his place, under the impression he'd broken you completely, maybe you wouldn't have kicked the syringe out of the agent's hand. Maybe you wouldn't have tackled him to the ground and repeatedly bashed his head over and over again on the rusting floor. Maybe if it was Dottore, things could have gone differently. As you stand up off the unconscious Fatui, you cast angry eyes towards what you thought you remembered being the direction of the factory exit.

The sedatives haven't worn off entirely, you notice, as you stumble away from the operation table. You end up having to lean a shoulder up against a wall, taking a couple of deep breaths to try to steady yourself and your blurring vision.

You have suspicions that test drug isn't what Dottore says it is. You have suspicions that it is not the cure he swore to you it was.

He's lying to you.

You grit your teeth and go to taking another shaking step. You've gotten far. You can go even further.

But then a hand wraps around your wrist. Your blood freezes.

He pulls you closer, to his chest, head bowed and chin resting in the crook of your neck. His grip tightens on your wrist when you try to pull your hand away. Your other free hand goes to clench vainly at his hand in an attempt to free yourself. His other hand traces along the side of your face. There's no getting away from him--lean away from his hand and your cheek presses against porcelain, lean away from the porcelain and your face presses into his palm.

Dramatically, he sighs. "Don't tell me I have to chain you down." He sounds...disappointed in you. "I'd hate yo restrain you. After you've been so...agreeable for me for so long. Such a shame."

Usually his scolding makes you want to shrink into yourself, sink into the ground and disappear. But now it lights fires inside you that have been dormant for far too long. "How long," you ask, jaw clenched and tensed as his fingers ghost over your face. "How long, Dottore?!"

"Hmm..." The harbinger seems unaffected by your snap. "Six months. Give or take." He giggles a little bit.

It takes far too long for that number to sink in. "Give. Or...or...take?! B-but you said-you said you were faster than all the other-"

Dottore shushes you. "This is faster. Would you prefer a year? Two? Ten? Are you questioning my methods?" Hostility begins to grow in his tone. For once, you match it, fury obvious on your face.

Aggressively, he turns you to face him, like he can sense the rage washing over you. His hand still stays gripping your wrist, hard. He glowers right back down at you, eyes nothing more than angry red slits. He's terrifying. Slowly, Dottore leans in, close to your face. He squints a little harder, analyzing your face, and then your eyes. And he notices your eyes aren't as dilated as they should have been.

"There's something...different about you today," he says, voice slow and threatening.

"Didn't let your little fucking creeps put a needle in me today. You got sloppy, doctor." It feels good to snap back at him, finally. A rush of satisfaction flows through you once you get the words off your tongue. At the smug look on your face, Dottore's face darkened even more.

His silence is cold on its own, but you're too caught up in your own high to care. You lift your head, standing up taller. You won't let him intimidate you.

"I'm leaving. Your research is going no where. I don't know what you keep me around for anymore." But you do. You do know. And he knows you do.

There's a slight falter in your once confident facial expression. He sees it. And he starts laughing. At the rate his grip around your wrist is tightening, you fear he'll shatter bones. His free hand goes to grab your other hand, bringing you closer to him. Your hands press up to his chest as you try desperately to distance yourself. The smell of his cologne, of the sterilizer and irony smell that followed him like the plague, filled your nose.

"Of course it's going no where!" He exclaims.

In contrast to his enthusiasm, you can only be dumbfounded. "What...what are you trying to say?"

The doctor scoffs. "Oh don't be dense. (Y/N), love, I'm the one who made your little "disease" in the first place. Well, I prefer to call it a biological weapon. Potent stuff, isn't it? It worked wonderfully on your pitiful little village. Imagine all the ways it could be used-"

You've stopped listening as he continues on. You're frozen. Sheer cold. Sheer shock. You don't know what to do. It's like you've been drugged all over again, your mind is so painstakingly blank. Dottore drinks up the horror on your face. You've never seen him smile so wide. Suddenly, you find the strength to wrestle one of your hands free.

You slap him, hard, across the face.

It hurts you more than it hurts him, the porcelain leaving an icy sting on your palm.

Dottore breaks out howling with laughter once more. He takes hold of your hand once more, forcefully, pushing it up against the cheek you'd just struck. He nuzzles into it. He won't let you pull away.

"Mmmm...what're you so worked up for, my dear? Don't you see? They don't love you like I do. Not one of them came for you all these months. Don't you find that rather strange?"

He knows why, of course. Your friends, family, neighbors, whoever--they hadn't come because the disease had wiped out most of the town little more than a few weeks after you'd left. And if his plague hadn't taken them out, Dottore made sure the Fatui agents at the door of his facility did without question.

But like he'd ever let you find that out. Like he was ever going to let you see the light of day again.

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" He'd released your hand, knowing that you were only trying to bring it to your ears in a desperate attempt to drown out his voice. He likes watching you struggle, he likes watching you hurt like this. Your hands push harder at the sides of your head as you squeeze your eyes shut, descending into sobs.

Dottore take the opportunity, your moment of weakness, to pull you close once more, pressing your cheek to his chest. His mask, then the corner of his lips press to the top of your head as his hand strokes slowly over you. He can feel you shaking, hard, with rage, fear, a sort of tragic, pathetic sadness that he does not have a word for.

He holds you gentle for now. But you know. You know he doesn't love you. He's just saying that to fuck with you even more. Because that's the shit that gets sickos like him hard. That's how he loves to play with you, like you're a toy made just for him in every sense. That's how he digs his fingers under your skin, his teeth in your throat--it's how he molds your brain to his liking between his capable, slender, and oh so soft fingers.

His touch makes you ill.

He makes you ill.

You try to pull away from him, tears still running down your cheeks as you cry out. When he doesn't release you, you try to outsmart him. You put all of your bodyweight away from him, attempting to tear yourself out of his arms. It doesn't work. As you start to sink down, out of his arms, he wrestles you onto the ground. You scream out, fighting to get his hands off you. He's going to pin your wrists-

"You're far more..." he grunts forcing one of your arms, hard, to the floor, "...capable than I remember."

"Yo-you're sick!" You sob out, turning your face to the side in a vain attempt to distance yourself from him. "Sick a-and twisted a-and-" You can't find the words anymore. You're struggling to even breathe, tears still blurring your sight. Your look up at him. He's grinning. He's watching you struggle and fight like hell and Dottore's smiling.

"You're...you're..." you've lost it all over again as his face draws closer and closer.

His lips meet yours. His teeth graze your bottom lip and a heavy exhale comes from behind his mask.

And suddenly you're kissing him back.

Just like always, you kiss him back. Dottore's grip on your wrists loosen. And you don't try to push him off. You don't try to escape, to vainly crawl out from under and away from him. You only wrap your arms, tightly, around him. You shut your eyes and lose yourself in him. Just like you've always done.

Just like he wants you to do.

#nsfw #one shot #genshin impact #il dottore #il dottore x reader #not healthy not condoned

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

by the horns

arataki itto x reader

nsfw

4.9k words

You think his hobby is stupid. And usually you're not so cruel. But it's ridiculous, the things that claim Arataki Itto's fancy and interest. Onikabuto don't fight. He knows that doesn't he? They're such docile creatures. Yet he still pushes them, throws them into miniature rings for his own entertainment and also that of dozens of others. He makes it fun somehow, bugfighting that is. You think he's the only person in Teyvat capable of something like that.

He's like a tidal wave, intense and fast moving, sweeping you up off your feet and taking you with him, where ever he may go. Maybe that is what makes him such a powerful leader. His ability to sway others to take up his interests, join his cause, and back him with a sort of fierce loyalty that would make the Shogunate crackle with jealousy.

Arataki Itto is overwhelming.

You feel that way every time you glance over at him, every time he looks back and beams. He's always happy to see you. He invites you to every single one of his little petty competitions or matches. Especially the bug-fighting arenas he sets up every once in awhile. Just because he knows you have no fucking clue why he insists on making docile insects try to beef with each other.

Maybe he sees swaying you as some sort of sport, yet another competition to be won. But you're not so easily taken. You're a challenge. And maybe that's why he likes you so much.

"(Y/N)! You showed up!" he calls out to you, loud enough to turn heads, lounged back in the biggest chair, throne-like in nature, at the head of the arena. The area with the best view of course, only the best for the Oni Sumo King.

Your eyes scan over the sizable crowd that has gathered, flooding over the edges, kids and adults alike. You think you even spot Yoimiya over in a corner conversing with someone, maybe making bets, judging by the bag of mora in her hand. You turn your gaze back on Itto, whose stare was still burning into you. You draw closer, for the sake of not having him practically holler out your name again.

“There’s no where to sit,” you say, face deadpan. Your arms cross. Doesn't he know you hate crowds like this? So much noise so late at night...

“C’mere,” he tells you, patting his knee. Your brows raise at the implication and he barks out a laugh. “Don’t be shy. I’ll drag you over here myself if I’ve gotta.”

You're familiar with his methods of persuasion. He's not kidding. He's done it to you before. The feeling of your feet leaving the ground when he sweeps you up with one arm is a mixture of terrifying and adrenaline-inducing. You're like a feather to him.

What a brute he is.

A defeated sigh comes from you and you find your place on his legs, arms still crossed defiantly over your chest. You try to look disinterested. Itto doesn’t care. One of his arms snakes around your waist, holding you closer as he leans in to watch the ring with great interest. His fingers, hold loosely over your hip. You notice the black paint on his nails is a little chipped.

Looking at his nails, attempting to spot every little chip or bleed of paint onto skin becomes boring soon enough. Despite your attempt to feign general disinterest, you couldn't help but glance over every know and then to see which beetle was winning. The crowd is near thunderous. It's not that bug-fighting is particularly thrilling, it's just a good excuse to release nervous energy.

With the skies growing darker and the thunder growing more constant with every passing day, signaling the Raiden Shogun's displeasure, the people of Inazuma have become anxious. You hear rumors fly constantly, of what could be influencing her mood, of what she could have in store for her land. So of course, the natural course of action for most of the Inazuma people is to simply find a distraction.

You think Itto's aware enough to know that his little games, his bug-fighting arenas and ridiculous eating competitions and showdowns are part of that distraction for these people. He's a brute, but he has a good heart, and you know it. His oni blood runs gold in his veins.

Itto watches you take interest in the ring. He glows with approval as he leans forward, chin over your shoulder to spectate himself now that he knows you're somewhat engaged. You think that maybe, he just wants you to enjoy yourself. He just wants you to have a good time. He doesn't like that broody frown you constantly wear upon your face.

You're prettier without that pesky, worrisome crease that seems to have made its home in your brows.

And when the corner of your lips turns up, oh so subtly, in the smallest of amused smiles when one of the beetles is unceremoniously flipped over onto its back by its opponent, legs flailing, Itto can't help but grin too. Nice to see you have a sense of humor. He feels one of your hand go to grasp at his larger one, still settled on your hip.

As the night drew on, the crowd began to noticeably dwindle. Itto is not cruel. There's certain rules to his bug-fighting tournaments. If a beetle loses, it goes home, no other matches necessary. And with it, usually goes whoever owns it.

As per usual, the tournament ended in a draw.

When Itto let's out a frustrated groan, you angle your head slightly upwards to look at him from the corner of your eye.

"How many times have I had to explain to you that Onikabuto are non-aggressive?" you ask.

He simply scoffs, giving you a slight squeeze. "Nonsense. With the right training, they're the best of the best. Anything can happen if you will it to."

It's your turn to scoff, crossing your arms once more. "Yeah, right."

Soon, the area is empty. And you're left alone with Itto.

By the dim light of the hanging lanterns and the soft night breeze, you doze off a little bit. Itto being silent for this long was so...uncharacteristic of him. His head cocks as he watches your own head nod slightly. Realizing you're falling asleep, his hand shifts down from your hip to squeeze at your thigh.

You rouse quickly, lifting your head.

"Hm?" you murmur, glancing back at him, trying desperately not to pay mind to the increasing tension weighing on your chest and shoulders. Why is he looking down at you like that? What's that look in his eyes? Why does it always get this way when you're alone with him?

Whatever tension you're feeling, he's obviously sensing. And as usual, he makes the first move.

He turns you suddenly, so your legs are across his lap instead of straddled over his leg, resting over his powerful thighs. Hand still clenched around your arm he brings you closer.

"So? What did you think?" Itto asks, nuzzling at the crook of your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth, making you shiver on his lap.

You shrug, for the sake of hiding the shiver. "It was fine, I guess. A little loud though..."

"What? You don't like loud?"

Your eyes roll, just a fraction. "Not in particular. It can all get a little..." you pause. He's looking at you so...intensely. There's fire in his eyes you don't have a name for. You blink hard, shaking your head to try and remember what you were saying. "It's...it's, um, overwhelming."

He lifts his head. "You smell good," he tells you, still staring ever so intently.

It's like that same fire in his eyes is racing up your spine, down your arms and neck. How can someone be a tidal wave and a wildfire all at the same time? Is it all him? Or maybe...maybe it's you too.

"Uhm. Thanks. I-I think-"

Itto can feel you stiffen up, he can feel the anxiety in your muscles, in your posture, maybe in your face a little bit too. He's usually dense to that sort of thing, but not now. Not when your face is all he wants to see in this moment.

A frustrated sigh comes from him, and you see the glint of one of his sharper teeth. "Why do you get this way when you're with me? All nervous. Like I'm going to eat you whole...or...is that what you've wanted me to do this entire time?"

The oni's head bows as he takes your neck in his mouth, suddenly, starting to kiss and suck at it. You feel like your heart's about to drop out of your body. You feel yourself throb and your nervousness worsens by tenfold.

"It's not like that-" you try, before cutting yourself off for the sake of holding back a soft moan.

His mouth feels so good on you. He's found a sensitive spot and he knows it. Right at the side of your throat. The metal pierced through his tongue smooths over your neck. His lip curls a little bit and you feel the point of one of his teeth press lightly into your flesh. Through a mouthful your skin, he murmurs once more.

"Maybe it is. Is it cause I'm an oni? Is your reputation at stake if you're seen like this with someone like me?"

You know he's joking, but there's a bit of bitterness still, deep in his tone. It would have been difficult to detect if you haven't had spent so much time with him recently. It's a wonder to you how Itto, the First, the Strongest, the Supreme, the wildfire and tidal wave, can have his little moments of self-hate. You don't pity him. He'd never want your pity. What good is it to him? But it's sad to see and you feel your heart, still pounding with anticipation, twinge a little.

Softly, you shake your head 'no'. Itto's head lifts again. Gently, almost too gently for hands of that size, he moves a lock of your hair back from your neck to smugly show off his handy work--a deep, red mark on your neck. His eyes lock onto you as you start to speak, trying to explain your feelings, maybe more to yourself than him.

"No. You're just..." you struggle to find the right words. "Loud. Brutish. Rude. Annoying. Forceful. Aggressive. And that has nothing to do with your oni blood. That's all you, Itto. Yo-you're overwhelming and you're new and you're scary to me because...because-"

He's drawing closer and you know what's next. You know what is to come and you want it, badly. You can't help but lean forward too, like your body has a mind of its own. At least your body is more honest than your mind has been. Your eyes fall half-shut, like you can't bare to look at him as you finally speak your truth.

"...because I don't know what to do with myself, when I feel the way I do around you. Ever since I met you, I didn't know what to do and that frustrates me."

Itto's lips are inches from yours. "Then let me ease your frustrations...let me..."

And there's no more words because suddenly his mouth is on yours and there's ecstasy and adrenaline rushing through your veins. One of his hand cups at your cheek, large enough to round over your jaw as well. He lifts your head slightly to an angle he finds suitable as the kiss intensifies when he realizes you're into it too. Blood flushes at your cheek as his lips move rhythmically with yours, like they're meant to be there. With your mouth slightly agape, his tongue slides between your lips, piercing clicking when it momentarily catches on your teeth.

You almost miss the taste of him as he breaks the kiss, to pull away and start stripping you. The tips of his claws skim over your skin, enough to leave light red drags but nothing more. It's pleasurable shiver that courses through you at this touch.

"I could sense..." Itto started, "by the way you looked at me that I wanted you. And you wanted the same. Maybe you didn't realize, but I always did. And you wouldn't let me have you so easily, y'know. You made me really work for it..." He casts an irritated look down at you to emphasize his point.

Your hands push up against his chest for support as he starts working at the waistband snug around you. He's trying to be gentle, but he's growing impatient. You hear feel fabric begin to strain and hear it start tearing.

You think of all the times Itto's invited you to go somewhere, do something. You think about the times you hadn't shown up, thinking it was some stupid "Itto thing" like a ramen eating match or yet another bug fight. The times you'd neglected him on purpose just...well...just because.

He'd been trying to get closer to you this entire time.

You'd just been too wound up in yourself to realize.

He murmurs into your ear, breath hot and heavy. "I still can't believe you finally showed up to one of my bug fights. I know you don't like the crowds. That's why I waited for them to all leave. As much as I wanted to bend you over right then and there, believe me, doll." A low growl comes from him, reminiscent of the oni blood that dominates his veins. "You've got me all pent up now. And I don't think I can go much longer..."

"...You won't have to."

His dark brows raise.

"Itto," you say, face still burning. "I-I need you."

You wouldn't have had to utter another syllable, another sound. That's all he needed to hear.

Suddenly, he turns you again, so you're straddled over him, legs over either of his, spread wide. He kisses you again suddenly, nose crushed up against yours as his giant hand goes to grasp at the back of your head. You remember the way you regard him as a tidal wave. You could drown in him, you think. His breath is heavy, forced from his nose, as if he couldn't think of anything worse than breaking away from your lips to properly breathe. Something hard pushes directly up against your crotch. It could have been him, it could have been that obnoxious belt buckle--you weren't going to look down and find out. Still it grinds into you, pushing at the line between pain and pleasure, making you squirm slightly. A soft groan comes from him.

"Say I can fuck you. Say I can fuck you until you can barely fucking stand," Itto growls, lips only slightly parted from yours as you pant and try to regain your breath, light perspiration breaking at your hairline. His hand at the back of your hair grips harder, pulling back your head to expose your throat. "Say it. Please. I want to hear your voice. So I know it's for real."

Has he fantasized about this? Has he fantasized about...about me?

Eyes half shut, you inhale shakily. "P-Please, fuck me, Itto..."

Another savage growl escapes him as he attacks your neck once more. His other hand slips past your waist, inside your open legs, to hook your underwear and pull it aside. He runs a thick finger between you, careful to angle the digit so his claw doesn't catch on you. He's already got you soaking, from almost anticipation alone. That and he seems to have the way his lips and teeth and tongue interact with your neck down to a science.

You could get used to this. You could get used to him.

Itto's finger contains to trace, finally moving up and pushing against your clit. You gasp, feeling the heat intensify in your core. The hand at the back of your head releases your hair suddenly. You lower your chin to look at him, finding it increasingly more difficult to breathe. He grabs your hand, moving it from his pectoral, down his abdomen. Your eyes widen as your fingers curve over every toned, textured muscle built in his powerful body. The coarse hair leading down the middle of his stomach drags along your palm. Itto leads your hand down to his belt, where your fingers curl over the horns of the ornament.

"You wanna take it off, or should I?" he asks, looking down at you, drinking in the mixture of shock and obvious arousal on your still flushing face.

"I-I think you should. I'll watch. So I know how for next time." You want to sink into the floor and die. Why the fuck did you say that? 'Next time'?! There probably won't even be one now. He's-

Unfortunately, he acknowledges your choice in words. "'Next time?'" he repeats with a raise of one of his eyebrows and slight tilt of his head. His familiar cocky smile spreads onto his face. "We haven't even begun and you already want more?"

"If that's what you want-" you try to deflect, feeling more vulnerable than ever. Being stripped down to your underwear probably has something to do with it.

Itto suddenly tilts your chin up with a bent pointed and folded thumb. "Hey, no shame in wanting the First and the Greatest more than just once."

God he's so full of himself. You wanna be full of him too. Is there a way to eloquently dance around that fact and somehow vocalize it to him? You shake your head, feeling a mixture of anxiety and arousal come crashing back down onto you.

"C-Can you just fuck me already?" you stammer out, fists clenching as you try not to let tears build up in your eyes.

"See? Now you're getting it." Itto grins.

You fail to actually observe the way he takes off his belt, too busy averting eye contact and trying not to buckle under the pressure and bail off his lap. You still don't know where the clasp is. Looks like he'll have to teach you next time. Next time. You like the sound of that.

It seems he does too, because suddenly you feel his cock slap up against you. You flinch at first, glancing down and turning about fifteen shades of red darker.

Itto's head cocks with slight confusion. "Are you a-"

Already knowing what he's implying you shake your head. "N-No. It's just...it feels different with you. In a good way. I...I just don't want to disappoint you."

"Nothing you could do could possibly disappoint me," he reassures you. "Now, do you want it rough or should I just work up to that?"

You shiver with anticipation, watching his eyes gleam in the light of the dimming lanterns nearby. "I'll see if I can handle it."

He clicks his tongue, brushing a knuckle over your cheek briefly. "That's my girl. Now c'mere..."

One of his hands pushes at the small of your back, bringing you closer. Pushing your weight onto your knees, you lift up to accommodate for his length. Your back arches into his hand, your own two smaller ones secured at his hips as you slowly lower yourself down onto him. The wetness of the arousal previous aids greatly, but he still feels just a bit too big. You inhale sharply. He can tell you're about to panic.

His hand at your back strokes over your skin softly. The usual cockiness leaves his voice. "Don't worry. Take it slow. That's it...come on...just like tha-" his head rolls with a bit of a groan as you manage to shift down a little lower. God, you're tight and hot around him. Just like he's imagined hundreds of times before. "Just. Like. That." His words come from slightly gritted teeth.

His girth, which used to feel like it was just a little bit too much just seems...fulfilling now. He pushes against the inside of your walls in the most pleasurable way imaginable and he hasn't even begun to fuck into you yet. You can tell by the way his muscles near his hips are straining that he's holding back from absolutely jackhammering into you, like a man unhinged. For now, you're grateful that he's showing some sort of restraint.

Your hands shift up to his chest. You finally lift your head, already panting, looking to him desperately for approval. Itto lowers his own head to press his lips to your forehead. Slowly but surely, his hips begin to shift against yours. A moan trills deep in the back of your throat as he grins against your skin.

He feels you begin to adjust to him more as your arousal coats him. Itto's thrusts begin to become more pronounced, more powerful. A soft whine escapes you as your fingers curl into fists, still at his chest. One of his hands goes to cup over the back of yours.

"What? Never taken oni dick?" He teases with another deep, strong thrust of his hips. You sharply exhale out, breath choppy and catching in your throat, barely able to speak. Your head is already fucking swimming. He feels mind numbingly good.

You moan his name, two elongated syllables and his cock continues to pump into you as he gains the confidence to begin getting rougher and faster. His forehead presses against yours again, his lips pulled in a slight snarl before he kisses you once more. His claws dig at your skin and you gasp into his mouth.

As you ride him, his hand moves from your back and his chest, to your hips. They stroke, slow and heavy up your body, like he wants to leave bruises in the shape of his dragging, thick fingertips. You wish they would. His warm, rough palms push up against your chest, settling directly overtop of your tits. Your own hands follow his, desperately, pinning them tighter to your skin, encouraging his groping as your hips crashed vigorously into his.

Your head is thrown back, almost involuntarily with a sharp cry and another long-winded moan of his name. At the sound of his name on your tongue, his cock twitches deep inside of you and you squirm over top of him.

You're practically doing most of the work yourself, so desperate to feel him drag up against your insides again and again until you can finally cum. You know you're close, but can feel your energy start to drain. Your adrenaline no longer carries you.

You're too stubborn to quit.

Itto's head bows. You don't care where he's targeting next. Your fingers trace up the side of his head, through his thick, white hair. He moans at your touch, eyebrows drawing closer with strain as he attempts to outlast you. Your fingers reach the base of his horns, and your hands wrap around them tightly. Another groan comes from him, along with a hiss of your name that only encourages you.

As you grasp at his horns, continuing to roll your hips into his, Itto's teeth graze over your chest. His tongue flicks over one of your nipples before he takes the whole thing into his mouth, beginning to suck. His hand continues to knead at your other tit, claw tracing slow circles over it, sending that familiar pleasurable chill coursing through you.

It's more of a competition now--see who cums first. Of course it is. With him it always turns into one. But this time, strangely enough, you don't mind. He seems determined to win for the sake of his pride. And losing just means climaxing. Win-win situation.

As he kisses at your breasts, hot tongue burning on your night-chilled flesh, Itto sucks on the soft, sensitive skin, once again with the full intent to leave aching marks all over your body. His mark. Your legs shudder at the thought of his "claiming" you. Pleasure thrums solidly through you, each wave growing more and more intense as you struggle to keep up with Itto.

He can sense your weakness, the way your pace starts to falter and you fall behind. Your grip readjusts on his horns, as you pant, trying to bite back any further moans and force them into the back of your throat.

Itto's hand sinks lower, to your hips, beginning to puppet them, gyrating and shifting them into his own hips. The way his cock curves in you rubs against the most perfect spot, making you practically melt into him, arms shaking. His head lifts, and soon, it's too high up for you to be comfortably gripping at his horns anymore. Still in need of support, your hands fall away from Itto's head and your arms wrap around his thick neck and shoulders instead. You bury your face into his chest, whimpers muffled by his red streaked skin.

You can't hold on anymore. He jerks, particularly violently, ramming just a little bit deeper into you. You almost choke on your own spit as your body trembles and finally, finally you cum for him.

As you lean up against his chest, cheek pressed to his skin, eyes half shut as you attempt to catch your breath, his hands stay on your hips continuing to bounce you softly on his still hard cock. You feel him twitch again inside you. He curses, loudly.

Quickly, he's able to lift you off of him, settling you back down onto his thighs. You feel tragically empty, enough to cry and beg and ask for another round on his cock that you know you can't take without getting fucked into unconsciousness.

Even with his fingers pinched at himself, he still cums, quickly, and hard, all across your stomach and abdomen. A second later and all of that could have been inside of you. Although you shoot him an annoyed look, a sigh of relief escapes you. Itto's thumb draws across your skin, bringing the mixture of his and your cum to your lips. Looking up at him, you lean forwards, taking his thumb in your hand and licking it clean. You're surprised to witness and shudder run through his body at the sight of you.

He just can't help himself.

"Get on my shoulders, I wanna lick it all off you," he demands.

Your eyes widen a fraction. "I don't think that's...physically possible for me right now."

"Fine, then I'll put you up there myself."

You squeak as he suddenly grabs your thighs and starts bringing you up, almost effortlessly. He leans forwards in the throne-like chair, allowing your legs room to hook over his shoulders. Frantically, you grab at his horns to steady yourself.

Itto doesn't waste anytime. The muscle in your abdomen tightens at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your skin. It tickles, just a little, and you squirm a bit on his shoulders, a frustrated huff coming from you. As you regain your balance, your hand gradually leave his horns to stroke absentmindedly though his thick locks of hair. They're surprisingly soft for how much product he puts on his head.

Slowly, his head shifts under your hands, upwards so he can look at you. You glance back down at him and he grins. "You should come to more of my bug-fights, y'know. I could get used to this..." One of his arms reaches up, the muscle in his shoulder pressing up against your thigh as he runs a claw down your bottom lip. He can see the starlight in your eyes and the moon lighting your hair silver at this angle.

"Maybe I will..." you muse before suddenly looking at him with a deadpan expression again. "Now are you gonna take me off your shoulders or am I gonna be stuck up here all night?"

"Hm...I'd like if you were there all night-"

"Itto. Get me down."

"You opposed to me eating you out?" he challenges. You won't take the bait. You know if you lose balance or your grip from this high up its going to spell disaster or a concussion.

You let out a slow breath. "As tempting as the offer is...you've kinda got me beat...I don't think I could take it."

"Tsk. Well if you say so. I think-"

"ITTO I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK, GET ME DOWN."

At the sudden loss of your patience he barks out a laugh. There's nothing funnier than seeing you frustrated. That and with the smell of him and aftersex glow on your flushed face makes it a sight worth remembering.

#nsfw #one shot #genshin impact #arataki itto #arataki itto x reader

0 notes

rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

all his

il dottore x reader

nsfw

3.5k words

You're cornered.

Well...not cornered. More like between a rock and a hard place. A really hard place.

He might as well be on top of you, he’s so close, chest pressed to yours. One of his hand slams against the table, next to yours, creeping overtop of the back of your hand, which had been pressed to the metal for the sake of stability as he'd come closer and closer. His other goes to tilt your chin up between a crooked pointer and thumb. The doctor’s head cocks to the side. “What do you think? Up for a little experimentation, my dear?” he asks, grin widening as his hips grind up against yours. Your fingers arch against the metal. Your eyes meet his. He always makes you so anxious...looking at you the way he does. Like he's plotting something all the time. Like he's hungry. Like he's gonna open his mouth the speak and there'll be the fangs of a leopard awaiting you. Like he's gonna eat you alive. You wouldn't be surprised if one day he did. And you wouldn't have minded either. He's like a drug to you and he knows it.

Nervously, you open your mouth to reply. “Uhm-“ Dottore doesn’t give you the chance. His lips, half of them anyways, ram up against yours. He’s overwhelming you already, mask pressed to your nose, your exhales becoming heated and audible through it as his tongue pushed between your lips.

His fingers suddenly intertwine with yours, pulling your hand off the table. Your free hand goes to grip at his wrist, at the hand at your face for stability as the small of your back is pushed uncomfortably against the hard metal edge of the examination table. Feeling the moan in the back of your throat against his lips, Dottore puppets your hand down his thigh, between his legs, up against the very obvious tent in his pants. His hardness on your skin has you practically on fire, like you’re melting up against him, trembling. You’re kissing him back. You didn’t even realize you were. You can feel the revealed corner of his lips pull into a smirk, even in the heat of the kiss.

"Good little assistant," he murmurs to you between chuckles against your lips. "The best I've ever had."

The flush in your skin intensifies as he suddenly brings your hand between your own legs, rubbing slowly. You forget often that his knowledge of human anatomy goes unchallenged. A whimper escapes you as Dottore breaks the contact with your lips, as well as a string of saliva with a swipe of his tongue. He’s looking down, watching your thighs shiver and your body squirm. He allows your hand to slip from his to grip at his wrist. He doesn’t mind taking over one bit. Your eyelids fall half shut as his knuckle pushes up against the crotch of your pants. A huff of hot air escapes your agape lips, your hand going to join your other, at Dottore’s wrist. His grip on your chin had gradually changed to his fingers around your throat without you even noticing.

“I oughta put a leash on you,” he muses. “You’d look so lovely with a collar around your neck. I’d never let you leave my side.” He moans. “Ohhh~ the things I would do to you…Would you like that, love?"

Try as you might you can't summon a single straight thought. It's like he makes you dense. And he certainly loves being the smartest in the room. "I-I-" you try before giving a quick shake of your head, like you're trying to dissipate the lustful fog settling deep in your mind. "I don't know. If I'm honest with you... I ca-can't even think straight right now, doctor."

He clicks his tongue. "That's what I like to hear."

You wonder if this is actually an experiment--if he's testing some sort of pheromone gas on you. As on and off with Dottore as you are, this is the most worked up you've ever been, soaked to the core and burning up all at the same time to the point where you can feel yourself throbbing uncomfortably. And he's only touched you a little. There's only one thing that can remedy something like that...

"P-please continue. Please, doctor. I think I need you," you manage, fingers tightening at his wrist and moving his hand closer between your legs once again. You can feel the heat of his palm from beneath the silken glove up against you.

His head cocks once again. "'Think' or know?" Dottore asks, all too obnoxiously. "You should be certain, my dear, about what you want from me. After all, I already know just what it is I want from you..."

"Know," you say through gritted teeth as he slowly palms over you, teasing and too gentle for your taste. He's conditioned you to his roughness, uncharacteristic of the steadiness and softness of his skilled surgeon's touch. "I-I know what I want from you."

"Mmm...don't be shy now, we're already this far in, (Y/N)."

A chill runs down your spine. Your name hardly ever graces his lips. You're supposed to be his assigned assistant--adjust the light, take his notes for him, prep his subjects, and whatever else he demands of you. You'd come to study his art, learn from his love of science. And yet here you were with his hand between your legs on the examination table you'd disinfected not even ten minutes ago. There'd been a body on it before. Somehow the haze he creates in your mind has you forgetting that. But still, Dottore prefers his little pet names for you, maybe because that's all he considers you to be--a pet. Something to play with until he gets bored and abandons you, like the numerous facilities he's dragged you in and out of. He swears he won't do it--abandon you, that is. He says this world is far more interesting to him with you working alongside him. But you know he says what you want to hear to keep you from leaving first. Not that you'd get the chance. He'd sooner have his scalpel through your throat than have you ever leave his side of your own will.

So you stay.

If you were capable, you would have lied, you would have said it's all for the science.

But it's not anymore. Maybe once, you would have sacrificed your dignity and said truthfully it was all in the interest of pursuit of knowledge. Now you sacrifice it for him. For Il Dottore.

It's like he's killed your passion and taken its place.

And you don't mind. Not anymore. Not when he can make you feel like this.

"(Y/N)," he says again a little more threatening than the first, stirring you from your thoughts, your dream like stupor. "Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Dottore is perfectly capable of being spontaneous, of taking control and doing whatever the hell he wants with really no warning. He needs no command to do the things he does to you. Yet this time, he's heeding to yours. Waiting, expectantly, for your word. And now you sit, dumbfounded, before him.

You fight the urge to hide your face. He hates it when you do that.

"I..." you start and his eyes light up. He gives another slow stroke between your legs. "I want you to touch me, doctor. Please touch me. Anyway you want."

He hums to himself, not giving much of a reaction, and you want to burst into fucking tears. Why is he torturing you like this?! Your entire face has got to be red by now...

"Anyway I want?" he repeats, lazy grin spreading on his face again.

Frantically you nod. "Don't do this to me any longer, please, Dottore...I can't stay like this. I'll go mad."

Wrong choice of words. Somehow his grin widens. "I'd love you mad for me...wouldn't that be a sight? I can think of one better, though." He suddenly grabs at your belt, undoing it with one experienced hand and yanking it hard from your waist. "Your face when I make you cum." He's ripping your pants down and you couldn't be more grateful.

His lips are back on yours again, suffocating and overwhelming but all you've ever wanted. You hope you die like this one day, pinned beneath him--this is bliss. His right hand secures itself strong at your back, leading your pelvis closer to his left. You lean back up against the table, head back as his lips slide from yours. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, the comfortable space between his shoulder and cheek as his left hand begins to work against you, slender, long fingers working beneath your underwear. Your arms tighten around him.

"You're aroused," he purrs to you, teasingly.

"Y-your fault," you gasp out as his middle finger hits your clit and ice flushes through your veins. "R-Right there-"

He scoffs. "I'm aware. I've studied you extensively when you sleep. I know every inch of you."

Such a creep...You're glad he can't see your face right now, otherwise he would have definitely caught your slight eye roll.

His hand lifts from you just momentarily so he can pull his glove from his left hand.

How considerate of him.

Dottore's hand, skin warm and textured slips back between your legs. This is like a ritual to him. You hope he'll take it easy on the edging tonight...but something tells you that's the exact opposite of what he has in mind as his finger purposefully draws away from your clit. Two of his fingers easily push into you in the height of your irritation, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. Dottore chuckles again. He finds desperation, yours especially, to be extremely amusing. Why? Because he's fucking crazy.

They pump slow, thumb instead taking the place of his middle finger against you. You try to take control of your breathing, of your mind once again. But it's nearly impossible as his pace and depth increases. And then his fingers curl inside you and you cry out, moan dragging from your throat.

"Fu-fuck," you're barely able to get out, eyes misty with euphoria as your hips almost grind unconsciously, further into his waiting palm. "Please-"

You almost instantly regret begging. Normally he'll stop, just to see you squirm and stoop to a level of pitifulness no one he's ever been with can possibly rival. Nothing gets him harder than seeing the tears in your eyes. But he doesn't. This time, he continues on. You can feel your muscles tightening, your breath starting to tremor in your chest. Standing up, most of your weight is slack against the edge of the table and Dottore's holding your back with ferocious intensity, like you're going to slip away. But still, your legs are beginning to quake and weaken and you know you won't be able to stay up on them. Your nails dig into his back, through the fabric of his white dress shirt.

Dottore stops.

You want to fucking die. It's obvious when you bite back a sob and glare at him as his head lifts. He's motionless for far too long, like he wants to hear you cry. You hold it back. Being spiteful will never get you anywhere with someone like him, but you're too frustrated to care.

Dottore finally looks up, back at you. His stare always sends a chill down your spine. His hand leaves the small of your back to suddenly grab your neck. The glare drops off your face almost instantly as he leans closer to you, fingers tightening ever so slightly. The silk of his glove is too smooth against your skin in contrast to his rough grip.

He grinned. “The way those thighs of yours shake…mesmerizing. I wonder, how would you fare with my head in between them?” To your distress, his hand slips completely out from between your legs. Your frustration isn’t left unattended to for long, though. His arm goes to the back of your knees, easily folding them, lifting you up onto the examination table with a hand still wrapped around your throat. Your back arches to escape the iciness of the metal now beneath you.

As you lay, at his mercy, his other hand abandons the back of your knees in favor of picking open the buttons at your blouse. He's never impatient. But this time, he practically tears your shirt open. You figure he's doing it more for the roughness of it, for the sake of seeing just the slightest amount of thrill and fear in your widened eyes. He pops the clasp on your bra with ease, untangling it from your body and tossing it to the side to join his glove on the floor. Dottore's hand all too happily reunites with your throat again.

He's so unpredictable...a week ago he would have killed you had you let his glove even touch the floor...It's a wonder you've survived him for this long. Maybe no one else will willingly fuck him like this...they're missing out big time, you've decided. God, he's weird but he knows his way around a body...

Your pheromone gas experiment theory comes to mind once again. If you're inhaling it, he's inhaling it too right? You don't have time to fully think it through.

Dottore’s hand strokes over the curve of your back, holding firm at the small of it. His hand at your throat suddenly loosens and starts drifting down to cup under your tit. His thumb rolls over your nipple as he bows his head, doubling over to kiss along your neck. His lips drag down the valley between your breasts, where he leaves a particular large mark with his teeth and his tongue. His name leaves your lips in a pleasured whisper, again and again, as you feel his teeth graze along your skin, sending goosebumps rising along your arms.

He kisses down your stomach before reaching your hips.

The doctor suddenly kneels, halfway, between your legs, hands snaking around you to grip at your inner thighs and widen you slightly. Dottore rubs his cheek along the inside of your leg with a sigh. “You’re…so soft. You’d cut so easily beneath my scalpel.” His forearm shifts against your outer thigh as his hand at your inner thigh pushes his mask off and to the side. You dare not look. You know better. There’s no warning before his nose is pushed up against the cleft of your pussy. He pulls aside your panties with his teeth all too quickly. You make him just as eager as he makes you. His tongue, confident and strong, strokes up into you and you cry out—first some nonsense, strained pleasured sound, and then his name, twisted on the last syllable into a pitiful, stammering whine. His nose pushes up into your clit as you feel the heat of his breath on the rest of your pussy. The texture on the side of his face, his nose too, scar tissue maybe, only seems to increase the pleasure. You gasp out as he laps again at you, teeth grazing on your most sensitive nerves. A bit of a hum escapes him and you shiver around him once more. His fingers push into your thigh as his head lifts so he can deliver a quick bite to the thin, soft skin. He sucks, hard, with the obvious intent to leave as many dark marks as humanly possible.

He isn't distracted long before his mouth is back on you again, and the rising climax that had evaded your grasp before made a timely return. Frantically, one of your hands snakes down your body, the other still gripping at the table with intense fervor. You can hear the doctor's voice start to rise to discipline you--he doesn't like it when you "help" him without his explicit command. But instead, your hands go to his hair, uncontrolled and frenzy, jamming his face up harder between your legs against your pussy. Your hips roll against his face and he moans into your skin. You shut your eyes tightly in bliss.

Your fingers curl into his blue locks as you cry out his name again and again, feeling the muscles in your hips start to tighten and your chest start to pound in your ears. Your moans become shivering gasps as he sucks your clit, lips rubbing against you skillfully, working you through your orgasm. If a scream was what he wanted, he was certainly getting it. Heaven forbid any of the Fatui are patrolling around this late--there's no silencing the lewdness of your cry.

You're trembling, hard, by the time he's finished with you. Still, he cleans you with his tongue, seemingly either enjoying the harsh tremor that passed through you with every little heat of his breath or just the taste of you. Maybe a little of both. Your chest heaves as you gasp for air, blinking away the white flashes impeding your vision.

There's strands of blue hair curled around your fingers, torn from Dottore's head.

"S-Sorry," you apologize sheepishly as his head raises, hand adjusting his formerly askew mask. You catch a glimpse of his tongue swiping over his lips--even the revealed parts. You don't look away fast enough to not notice the scars. Still, you pretend like you still didn't see them. If only he knew how you wouldn't care one bit about them.

"Such ferocity...I've never seen that from you, my dear. It was unexpected." He's on top of you. He's still hard, pressing up into your body. You wonder if you even have the energy to help him finish... "But not entirely unpleasant."

Your head thunks back on the examination table, making contact with unforgiving steel. His hand, the one that was still gloved, cupped at your cheek, turning your head back so your eyes were on his. You fight to keep them open, already feeling drowsiness descend upon you. He clicks his tongue with a shake of his head.

"Poor thing...you're exhausted." His thumb strokes over your cheek and you wonder if the semblance of gentleness is something you're hallucinating or dreaming of. A grin splits his face. "You needn't worry about me. I can see by the look on your face you were."

A sigh of relief escapes you. He leans in to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue. His kiss intensifies. You moan weakly against his lips, arms wrapping around him to bring him closer to you. Your bare chest presses to his. Your fingers pry the high neck of his black sweater down so you can kiss at his neck and throat. Eventually, your head leans back once more and you watch the doctor through heavy-lidded eyes as he leans forwards once more.

He peppers kisses along your chest before his chin comes to rest upon you, right in the valley between your breasts. He lets out a breathy sigh. Tentatively, your fingers push into his hair, much more gentler than before, tangling between the light blue tresses. You play with his hair, tension leaving you when he leaned further into you, indicating he enjoyed the movement of your fingers.

"Doctor," you murmur.

"Love," he replies.

"It was an experiment right? Something to do with pheromones? I-I've never felt like that before that intensely-"

He shakes his head with a bit of a laugh. "No, my dear. No pheromones involved, although I must admit, it is a creative idea. That was all you. And believe me, I did enjoy every second of it..." He presses a brief kiss to your skin.

The arm he wrapped around you tightened snugly, fingers tracing slow patterns into the skin of the small of your back.

You think that for a second this might be love. He might love you.

Because why else would he treat you so gently, work for your pleasure tonight instead of just his?

But if you could read his mind you'd instantly know otherwise. Because there was only one word that echoed deep within him, that made his usually icy blood boil and set what little was left of his soul aflame. A mantra. A code. A promise. To him. To you.

That this wasn't love.

That you were very simply, his.

His. His. His.

All his.

#nsfw #one shot #genshin impact #il dottore #il dottore x reader #not healthy not condoned

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

pet project

il dottore x reader

nsfw

4.3k words

There's not much to remember before the explosion. Sure, there's flashes here and there now and then, but not enough for you to really draw any conclusions to who you are or what you were doing or if there's anyone out there looking for you, missing you. But you know one thing--a name. Not your own, one whispered around town, murmured back and forth by people with blurry faces and muffled behind masks.

Il Dottore.

A doctor, you think he is. Madman seems to be the more accurate term that comes to mind the first time you ever looked upon him.

He finds you...interesting. It's rare for people to seek him out for reasons other than an assassination attempt or a confrontation involving whatever slightly unethical experiments he's running. You're not here for either of those reasons. No. You're here volunteering yourself to him. Regular people don't normally come to him like this. Most of his patients and projects are...rather unwilling.

You know his name but not who he is. What he's done and what he'll continue to do.

What a wonderful blank slate to work with.

The opportunity is simply too good to pass up. As you speak to him, face half hidden by your hair and shadows, he can only dream up of all the experiments to be conducted--all the things he could do to you.

He catches the basis of your tragic little backstory. Some explosion and a typical case of amnesia. It's your face that catches his interest. Mostly the way you clearly had not wanted him to see the horribly scarred part of it. He finds himself absentmindedly touching along the porcelain of his own mask later that night as he muses over it all.

Il Dottore told you that upfront payment for his "services" wouldn't be necessary. He said it would all "work itself out later". You're too desperate to care about the fishiness of this all--of his promise to fix the damage that had been done to you all for free. It's not out of the kindness of his heart. One look at that man, the look in his eyes and the smirk constantly pulling at his lips tells you that if he has a heart it's frozen and stone. But you can't be picky. Not when he's your first and last resort.

He can tell you're desperate too. He eats it up. It's one of his favorite things about you. He loves your pain, to see you in it is heaven above all else. Worth more than the divines could ever give him. Unlike any other before. Because he doesn't have to tie you down or bind your hands or sedate you to keep you here, with him. You'll stay. No matter what he could do, if he claims it's in the name of your "recovery", you'll stay.

You find him to be a strange man. He told you once, as he toyed with a sample of your blood beneath a microscope, that he was something called a "Fatui Harbinger". You're not sure what that means or what that is on account of your long gone memories. He enjoys the way you have little to no reaction to any sort of information he shares with you that might have been shocking to anyone else. Once again, you're a clean slate for him to manipulate and carve out whatever he wants on. You aren't conscious of his sins, even if he confesses them directly to you, scalpel in hand. They have no weight on you. You're unaffected, untouched, undaunted. His words just roll off, like raindrops on glass.

Dottore finds that fascinating as well. Sometimes, when you lay, half-sedated upon the operation table, you'll catch flashes and glimpses of him, almost circling you. Like he's trying to study every angle, as if he can look at you physically and if he squints hard enough, he'll have all the answers to his questions. It's like he vivisects you with his eyes.

You care little for his admissions, his horrible, evil little anecdotes about causing pain to those who didn't deserve it or didn't want it. It's like you're numb entirely. Stuck in this dream-like state. You think, maybe, there's something wrong with your brain. Perhaps the explosion had proven dramatic to more than just the right side of your face. Maybe the damage had gone deeper than that.

He promises that as far as his testing can prove, there's nothing severely wrong with your brain, other than the amnesia, of course. He doesn't intend on fixing that. You don't care about that either. One step at a time. First your face, then your mind, although you doubt you'd stay with Dottore for any mental treatment.

He's insane. Completely and utterly mad. Yet, you're still drawn to him. Still a victim to his charm and his appetite for knowledge and learning more, no matter how unethical the experiment would be to attain that understanding. You don't know what he could be studying as he attempts to find ways to piece your face back together, to remedy the awful scarring. But he's enamored and captured, by you.

He stares. A lot. And he doesn't care if you catch him.

When you're awake and even in your sleep, you see his eyes. You're sure if you survive his future operations on you, that they'll never leave your subconscious. They'll be with you until death, whether it's at his hands or not. There's an understanding between the two of you, that your life is his.

Everything feels so foggy to you when you're in this place, Dottore's lab.

But despite all the downsides, the migraines, the nausea, the numerous side effects to his experimentation, it's worth it. He helps. More than any other doctor or surgeon or physician or healer within Teyvat. He's a madman, and you can tell he's the sort that you don't go up against. You can tell he's not a good person. But it's undeniable that he is a talented practitioner. He's passionate in his work. So despite his increasingly obvious homicidal tendencies and instability, you trust he'll do well.

That same passion he puts in his work seems to spread, like a disease, to you. He's always stared at you before, unblinking. Maybe just to make you uncomfortable for his own entertainment. But nowadays, he looks at you much...differently. There's something else in his eyes--want. Easily identifiable. If you'd had any doubts, they'd been erased by the time his hands had started roaming your body and the revealed bit of his lips pressed up against your skin.

You wonder if he thinks of you as one of his creations, although he's doing nothing more than repairing your face.

He falls in love with his creations easily.

How can he not? It's impossible not to, when he's spending almost every second of every day either with you or nearby. It's impossible not to when he can hear your murmurs still in his mind, long after they've passed through your lips. The way they keep him awake at night, as he stares up at the ceiling almost helplessly...

And he comes to the conclusion that he must have you.

You're not some temporary little experiment anymore. You're his.

If you don't realize it now, you will soon. You start to when what had happened before didn't turn out to be a one-time little fling. He never stops touching you, fingers at your neck or your waist or in your hair. You can tell he's making progress with his work in restoring the right side of your face based on how he starts touching that area more as well. Nothing too harsh however...whatever his process is, it's fragile work and he knows to be gentle less he has to start all over from the beginning.

It goes from quick favors here and there to something more. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't...well...amazing being with him. You can't remember if you've been with anyone before, but if you had, you knew they'd pale in comparison to Dottore's passion. It's not entirely one sided, something out of the ordinary for Dottore. He wonders how fucked in the head you have to be to...enjoy this...enjoy him the way you do.

But you have your needs too, and you'd rather have him than the other Fatui patrolling the boundaries of the lab.

You...you like Dottore.

Eventually, the day came where he claimed it would be the final operation. Originally, you wouldn't have been sure if that meant he planned on killing you or if he had finally cured your condition. Now you know it's the latter. Just like you've grown attached to him, he seems to have grown attached to you.

And you're faced with the decision you never wanted to make.

To stay or leave after this.

You don't have time to explore your options. He's already got the syringe in your arm.

"Dottore..." you say softly, hand gripping at his wrist, in spite of the state of heavy sedation starting to settle over you. He glances down at you as you take in another deep breath, eyes starting to shut. "Please. Treat me well..."

"Of course, my dear. I wouldn't dream of anything else." His hand shifts to take yours and he bows his head briefly to press what shows of his thin lips to your hand. He looks up at you. He looks dangerous. Unpredictable.

But weirdly enough, you trust him. Completely.

And that didn't change. Not even as you slowly came to on the floor. It's not uncommon for him to leave you down there so he can clean up his workspace. You don't really mind. The coolness of the tile eases the pounding in your head and the soreness in your arm from where he injected you. His jacket's been cast over you, maybe some indication that he wanted to keep you warm. Groggily, you sit up, your weight shifting to your knees as the jacket slid off you. When the chill of the facility reaches you again, you grab onto the sleeve of the jacket to pull it back over your body once more. It's big on you.

It smells like him.

As usual, you lift a hand, faintly to touch along your face--the side he's been working on for so long.

Your hand freezes.

All the rough, scarred, ugly skin is gone. It's smooth again. For some reason, your heart drops and your blood turns to ice. You're not sure if it's in a good or bad way. You inhale sharply, shakily, hand moving once more in disbelief. He did it. Dottore fucking did it.

You feel like yourself again. But some of that fog in your mind remains. You assume it's just an effect from the drug. You can feel his presence nearby. You looked up, spotting him lounging in a chair nearby, looking like he was ready to nod off himself. He was waiting for you to wake up. You figure whatever he wanted from you must have been important, as he hadn't stuck around after the previous work he'd done on you. At your sudden movements, he stirs, bright eyes fully opening. He stares down at you, a grin slowly spreading across his face. He's half shrouded in shadow.

"So?" he asks. "What do you think?"

Under his gaze you suddenly feel naked--which to your credit you actually were. You draw his jacket closer around you, staring back up at him.

You suddenly have a faint idea to as what he possibly could want from you right now.

Still, you reach back up to touch your face once more. You wish you had a mirror. You felt as thought you might admire his work better that way.

"I-I don't know what to say," you eventually responded, eyes back on him.

He chuckles. "A 'thank you' would suffice. I wouldn't mind a little more than that too..."

A hot flush already starts to cross over your face. Lightly you nod. In response, Dottore's smirk widens to his usual grin. He pats his thigh.

"Come here, love," Dottore said, legs crossing as he leans back in his chair. "On your knees. I want you to crawl." Face still flushed, you know you can't deny a request as simple as that. Not after all he's done for you. Feeling his gaze hot on you forces chills down your spine as you bow your head and obey. Inching closer, you finally come to a stop at his feet. His legs uncross as he sits back up and leans down, towards you. Shoulders hunched, he reaches for your throat. His gloves stroke slow over your skin, gripping harsher at the spot where your jaw met your neck with his thumb and his crooked pointer. He clicks his tongue. "Look at me." And again, you obey. He moans lightly, red eyes darting rapidly to take in every detail. "You're wonderful to look at now, you know. Every hour I spent on you was worth it." Hand still tight on your jaw, he jerks you forwards as he throws himself back into his chair, your face coming between his knees. A cackle erupts from him, wild and unhinged. His free hand pushes through his thick, blue hair, coming to grip a large chunk at the center of his scalp. "You were absolutely worth it, doll."

His hand lifts against you. To lessen the strain, you rise with his arm, realizing he's trying to bring you up onto the chair with him. You're relieved he didn't keep your face between his legs any longer--you weren't sure if you'd have been able to let him continue toying with you. Something about him drives you as crazy as he is. As you sit down on his lap, your legs spread over his. You lean up against him. His hands push his jacket down off your body. He watches it slide from your shoulders and to the ground.

You can feel him hard against you, but you know that for now, that won't matter. He's teasing and torturous in his foreplay and you're all too familiar with it. He likes to see you squirm, hear you beg. For him. There's no greater feeling than pushing you to fucking tears. It's like he enjoys torturing himself too, in a way, playing with you as long as possible before he actually even has the chance to pleasure himself.

Dottore offers you his hand. Gently, you take his wrist in your own, your head bowing. Like second nature, you take his glove off his hand with your teeth, a ritual he seems to enjoy. A soft groan comes from him. Dottore's other hand squeezes your side before tracing up your body, to your neck, then your face. His thumb pushes into your mouth--you can taste the fabric on your tongue. Not wanting to bite him (that's more his thing anyways), you're gentle when you take off that glove as well.

"Mmm...good girl. You're getting rather good at this," he said, eyes half-lidded behind his mask.

You simply sigh in agreement and lean forwards, into his body to kiss along his neck. Your arms wrap around him, over his shoulder and under his opposite arm. Your fingers arch at the back of his neck as you feel his lips graze over your skin, sharp teeth catching on sensitive areas, heat of his breath making you shiver slightly. You can feel his fingers stroking over your bare back. His index runs along the indent where your spine is. He fantasizes often about slitting a scalpel down it. But to destroy the beauty he worked so hard to resurrect would be...a waste.

Dottore's voice rouses you from your dream like state. "Stay with me, my dear. Stay with me until you take your last breath."

Everything he says sounds like a thinly veiled death threat.

"I-I wouldn't want to burden you," you reply to his request weakly, knowing he'll have his way no matter what excuse you manage to throw at him. "I haven't much of a mind for science or medicine. There's little I can do to be of worth to you."

Dottore smirks. "You're no burden."

You're my trophy. My pride. My doll. Mine.

With a light shake of your head, you try once more to dissuade him. "B-But I need to-"

He shushes you suddenly, hand coming to clamp around your mouth. The hand at your back suddenly jerks you up closer to him and you can feel his erection more prominently now. A pheromone fueled haze descends upon you once more and any chance of real clarity is long gone as heat pools in your stomach.

"Don't think of that now. Think only of me, my dear. That's what I want you to think about. Do you understand me?" The harbinger's tone grew more aggressive with every word he uttered.

His hand at your back shifts between your legs, between his own legs to thumb at the button of his pants. You don't have time to question it, to question him, as the sound of the zipper cuts through the quiet hum of machinery nearby. All you know is when you feel his cock hit your inner thigh, you couldn't think straight anymore. He knows what he does to you, and that makes you hot.

His obvious attempt at a diversion works. It's manipulative, exploitative even, but you don't give a shit. All you cared about right now was having him as deep inside of you as humanly possible.

Your left hand drops from his neck to reach for his cock. The second your fingers wrap around him he moans, head falling back against the headrest of the chair. You gave him a few, slow rubs, just to get him going a bit. In your hand he twitched and you feel that familiar burn deep in your stomach, in your loins, in your chest and lungs.

Dottore gazes down his nose at you, eyes half lidded in sheer ecstasy, his breath already turning uneven. It's like he can sense your neediness. He chooses not to exploit this time for his own pleasure. It seems he's dedicated himself to distracting you from having an actual discussion with him about leaving, now that his work is done.

And as much as you'd like to leave, to be out of his hair...you'd hate to go.

That feeling becomes much stronger as Dottore's free hand slips under your thigh to jerk your leg up, attempting to push his cock in between your legs. Hand at the side of the chair to steady yourself, you decide to help, shifting your whole body so the tip of his cock is pressed to your entrance. He grins--something that makes you feel like you're being struck by lightning every time--rubbing between your legs slowly. He knows you're already soaking but can't resist teasing still.

"Just like that, love," Dottore purred to you as you began to take him in, inch by inch.

You're still a little exhausted from the operation and sedatives wearing off. At first, you're moving fine, hips grinding rhythmically against his. But he can feel your weariness, he can see the ways your eyes seem to dull, even as you attempt to pleasure yourself and him. Both of his hands slide beneath your thighs, gripping them tightly. You're not sure how he handles his tools and instruments so delicately with hands as large as his. Your question is forgotten as he quickens your pace and a moan slips from your lips. You take the opportunity to take your hands off his hips in favor of wrapping your arms around him. Face buried in his neck, he rocked his hips into yours. His skin muffles your whimpers.

Soon enough, he's practically puppeteering you, dictating every shift of your hips alongside every carefully timed, deep thrust into you. He's a control freak like that. It's almost like you're a toy to him--he uses you as he pleases. And that doesn't entirely bother you.

"You were mean to be mine," he hisses into your ear. "You were meant to be fucked by me."

You cry out as he bites at your earlobe, harshly. He'll definitely leave marks. They're all over your neck as well. You lift your head, just slightly, and it's enough room for him to suddenly capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. It's enough force to shift his mask slightly to the side, revealing some of his nose and the other side of his lips. You can feel the rough scar tissue around the usually covered side of his face, but you can't possibly be one to judge. His breath comes out harsh from his nose, squashed against your own as he forces his tongue into your mouth. He's hot inside you, both ways. Lips jammed, no, locked, against his, you could feel your orgasm coming. Dottore's mouth muffles your moans and what would have been your warning to him that you weren't going to last.

Before you know it, you're quaking, tightening around him and he groans against your lips. He breaks the kiss, along with the thin string of saliva connecting his lips to yours with a swipe of his tongue. You gasp for air, collapsed up against his heaving chest. Stubbornly, the harbinger shakes his head.

"Ah, ah. We're not finished yet, my dear..."

Tears practically at your eyes from the overstimulation, you consider begging. "D-Dottore-"

"Again. I want to see your face."

Both his hands leave your hips. He momentarily adjusts his mask back to the center of his face. His cock's still deep in you, and he starts moving it, slightly. You almost choke on your own spit. You don't have the chance, considering how quickly one of his hand's goes to grab your throat to keep you from slumping up against him. Dottore's free hand travels down between your legs. You feel the soft tip of his finger against your clit and practically melt as icy pleasure thrums through your system.

He smiles, looking down before back up at you. "So sensitive..." He suddenly rubs at you and you cry out, hands wrapping around his forearm to take some of the tension out of his chokehold. "I love seeing you like this. Even better with your lovely face intact once more."

On purpose, the movement of his fingers against your clit lessens. Desperate to chase down another climax, you start to ride him once more, for the sake of the friction against you. Perspiration gathers slightly at your hairline as your brows knot with effort and your breathing becomes desperate. Unhinged. Unsteady. He chuckles at your desperation and it's enough to drive you as mad as he is. Your movements pick up.

Suddenly, he curses. His grip tightens around your throat. You realize why when you feel his cum hot inside you. He doesn't need to encourage you to keep going. You're long gone from this world and are mentally in a much more hedonistic one where your thoughts are all but gone. And all you can hear his Dottore, all you can smell is him, the notes of his cologne and broken sweat, all you can feel is him and his cum beginning to leak out of you.

Seeing that you were starting to tire once more, Dottore decided to take pity on you. Almost lazily, his fingers circle your clit once more and you can finally cum shortly after him. The harbinger's hand slips from your throat, allowing you to lean back against him once more to catch your breath, your eyes half shut.

The harbinger's breathless, fingers carding through your hair. He holds your head against his chest, head bowed slightly. His voice is low.

"Don't leave me, darling. Don't make me chase you down. Because if you do...I'll find you anyways. And I'll fucking kill you."

He won't lose you. He won't lose all his hard work. Not like this. Not because you're so misguided you think someone other than him is capable of helping you. Not because you wish to take flight on a poorly thought out whim. He's the best Teyvat has to offer to you. Surely you must know that?

Dottore's words are so cruel compared to his gentle touch, his fingers stroking through your hair and his lips momentarily pressing to the top of your head. His fingers grip tighter as you sigh.

"Okay," you replied, voice soft. "I'll stay. For you, I'll stay."

#nsfw #one shot #genshin impact #il dottore #il dottore x reader #not healthy not condoned

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 3 months

Text

word of god

toki x reader

nsfw

5.1k words

It hadn't been anyone's fault but your own. You should have known better than to put someone else before yourself. This era doesn't have room for mercy and pity. Anyone who shows it is weak. Anyone who shows it is an ant waiting to be stepped on. But you couldn't have just sat there and done nothing. You're not sure if you could have lived with the guilty conscience if you hadn't come out of your hiding spot to tackle that kid out of the way of a roaring motorcycle. The bandit riding it had been cackling in glee, but his demeanor quickly changes when there's no spray of blood staining him or his wheels, when there's no shriek of pain or despair from the onlooking mother. The bandit was quick to circle back, seeing that you'd interfered with his idea of fun, and had struck you hard upside your shoulder with a metal pipe in his hand.

You had not budged from the child, using your body as a shield.

Usually this town is under protection--Kenshiro, the successor of Hokuto Shinken, had left quite suddenly in days before this one. This was a common habit, apparently. Kenshiro never stayed in one place for long. It's a real shame, but it'd be selfish of him to stick around when there's other suffering people who need his help. Luckily, his brother, Toki, had remained behind. Although he was not the successor to that horrific martial art, you'd heard whispers in the bars and streets that he was equally as capable of using it. Some said, before he had become sick, he was the one that was meant to inherit the deadly art. Of course, it's all rumors and gossip. Nothing spoken too loudly or too boldly and certainly nothing said to Toki's face. All that really matters is that he's equally capable of defending this village from attacks, even if he needs a little backup if one of his coughing fits takes hold.

Unfortunately, Toki seemed to have his hands a little full, as you ended up taking a pretty decent beating before he finally showed up. Your ears had been ringing and your head aching as you wrapped your arms tighter around the crying child in your arms. Toki's soft, calm voice eventually gets through to you.

"-(/N), isn't it? You're safe now. Both of you are. I'm sorry I was so late. They were targeting the village supplies first."

The kid's mother comes to take him from your arms. Still a little bit frazzled, you sit there, not sure what to do with yourself. You feel trickling warmth down the side of your face. Gingerly, your fingers touch up to your face and you realize it's blood. Toki's hands come to lightly hold at your shoulder. He's knelt down before you.

His eyes are very clear. The clearest you've ever seen. Like remembering the sky on the nicest summer day of your life. The sun hardly comes through the clouds nowadays.

"Come with me."

You give a slight nod, attempting to get up on your own. When you stagger, Toki is there to support you, letting you lean upon him. He pulls your arm over his broad shoulders, leading you away from the smoking motorcycle, now turned on its side and eerily still, along with the half of a body that remained on the ground. Everything else had combusted into nothing. Toki's careful to keep your back turned to the gruesome scene.

You don't remember the walk to the tiny building Toki had claimed for his own practices. Thus, you assume you might have a concussion or internal injury of some sorts. Or maybe it was just shock. Either way, you're still having a hard time getting your head back correctly on your shoulders. It's the first time in a long time you'd been beaten so brutally. This wasteland's viciousness is not lost on you and you'd never been spared of the cruelty and violence of bandits who roamed. However, this village had been on the safer side for so long, maybe you'd just adjusted to the calmness, making the assault all the more shocking to your mind and body.

The set up in the building Toki had taken his medical practice in was quaint and small. It's very...him. He didn't have much of a use for tools, preferring his martial art and own two hands instead. Maybe some bandages for bleeding and supports for healing and mending bones but that's about it. The place doesn't remind you of a doctor's office in the slightest. Really, it's just a bed along with a small table off to the side. Sparse medication like painkillers stashed in the corner. Supplies really are getting low. There's a sink somewhere along the wall, where water still mysteriously runs.

Toki laid you down gently on the bed. You apologize sheepishly, observing the streaks of your blood on the front and sides of his white clothing. He waves it off, promising you that he doesn't mind, that it's nothing, that he can wash it out. It doesn't do much to ease your embarrassment. You realize you're more blood than skin. It's beginning to dry uncomfortably all over your face. You flinch a little when Toki begins to use a damp rag to gently remove as much as it as he can without irritating you worse.

That bandit managed to put a pretty big gash in your head, right along the side. That seemed to be where most of the blood was coming from. Toki knows he can't do much for that other than clean it, wrap it and try to keep it from getting infected. As the deep red is stripped away from your skin, a numerous amount of forming purple bruises show themselves. Toki curses himself for not being quicker and getting to you sooner. A soft sniff comes from you and you wipe the blood running from your nose on the back of your hand.

"Lay your head on the pillow and tilt it back, please," Toki tells you.

You listen, reacting a bit too slowly for his taste. He worries that you might have suffered a concussion or brain injury of sorts. You hadn't spoken to him yet. Not that you often did speak to him when he'd crossed paths with you in the village. It's strange--you look pretty talkative with everyone else. A few times, in some of the bars, he's seen you laughing up quite a storm with a few of your companions. But when he's near you, you seem to suddenly clam up. It's saddening--you have a nice smile and he wouldn't have minded to see it in a conversation.

He hopes he doesn't make you uncomfortable.

Toki focuses. He has a job to do, socialization and past interactions with you be damned. It's his fault you're in this bad of a shape anyways. Toki clears his throat, clearing off the last of the bloodstains from your face. It's harder to get some of the dried stuff out of your hair. Perhaps when you're healed a little, Mamiya can take you to the baths and get the rest of it off. He wouldn't dream of trying to get you to strip or bathe now.

Once he's wrapped up your shoulder, he lays it down cautiously next to your side. Bandages cover the gash in your head as well. You blink a little slowly as he kneels down at the side of the bed. Although he explains what he's going to do to help you next very slowly, you still have trouble paying attention. And it isn't because you took that hit to the head.

Whatever he was going to do, you trusted him full heartedly. His work is nothing short of a miracle. He has a sort of soothing aura around him that makes it impossible to be afraid for long, no matter how bad the bleeding or pain may be. He's the type of man you can look in the eye and know that you'll be taken care of well. Toki's calm, like still water. He brings peace. And he makes you feel cared for. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have just the tiniest little crush on him, which had developed quickly during his time staying in this village.

Mamiya told you once she could tell you had a thing for the healer. Apparently, the look on your face when you glance at him here and there is clear as day. Embarrassing... Is it really so obvious? You'd opted to avoid him a little more, the insecurity having more power over you than any crush would. Either way, Toki's never noticed or acknowledged it. Or at least, if he has, you don't know of it.

“A small period of unconsciousness,” Toki explains to you softly, the cool palm of his hand pressed to your forehead. “To let your body rest. Just for a little while. You need it.”

You shut your eyes like he asks you to. His hand stays brushing over your body. He’d explained to you before if you couldn’t see, he’d find a way to let you know where he was. The last thing this needs to be is scary or uncomfortable. His warm palm slides further down your body, fingers light. A soft, soothing hum of a song you never knew comes from him. He finds the pressure point he's looking for. Before you know it, you’re already falling into a peaceful and painless black.

It's foggy. But you know what's happening. You think you do, at least. You're not sure where you are, it's like your eyes are open and shut at the same time. But you know it's his lips on yours, before drifting lower and lower. You feel the scratch of his facial hair on your skin, so lightly you'd forget in a second's passing. You know it's his hands holding you, but you can't quite recall where. You just know he is. And you know his grasp his tight. The warmth of his breath on your thighs, searing heat from his tongue.

Toki, hearing your breathing change, looks up from what he's working on and over his shoulder. In his coma, you should be still. And just as he expected, you had been still for the hours before. What had changed? Had he missed something while he was checking over you? He turns fully around, coming closer once more. His palm presses up against the side of your head. Your face was flushed, your skin was hot. And your breathing is still irregular...

He listens carefully when you sigh out a syllable, one so faint, someone less observant wouldn't have caught it.

To...

He stays quiet, trying to catch the other half of the murmur. A few seconds pass by before your voice sounds again.

Toki...

A bit flustered and confused, he takes a step away. He turns his back to you, trying to come up with an explanation while he regains his composure. It's not completely impossible for this sort of restlessness to happen during this manner of treatment. Extremely uncommon, but not impossible. Sometimes, even manipulation of pressure points isn't enough to completely quiet a tumultuous or troubled mind. Toki wonders if he should wake you, if he should ask why you were calling out his name. What if you needed something? But it hasn't been nearly long enough for you to recover.

If it was something serious he's sure he would have caught it before putting you into that state...

It'd have to wait, he decides firmly.

When you come to hours later, you do so slowly. Almost like your body can't stand to leave the deep trance you'd been under. This was around the time Toki had originally intended you to wake up. But...something's still off. It's not supposed to be like this. Your breathing should be steadier, you should be refreshed. Not damp with perspiration at your hairline. Not with your chest rapidly rising and falling. Between your legs, you still felt...hot. Toki senses something's off.

You face flushes as you sit up, puzzled, trying to remember what's going on...what...what happened?

Your heart is still pounding. Back turned to you to offer some semblance of privacy, Toki can hear it. Poor thing. What had you dreamt of to provoke such an intense unconscious reaction? Toki knows all too well the way women in this era suffer. He'd only been at this village for a few months now. Not enough time to fully know of your background...if it'd been a traumatic dream, he wonders if he should have made the difficult call to wake you and simply try the longer, old fashioned method of healing. He'd only wanted to get you healthy and safe in the fastest way he knew...

And...he thought maybe you would have been more comfortable if you didn't have to spend as much time here, with him. It's difficult to ignore your obvious nervousness around him. The last thing he wants is to cause you any discomfort or anxiety...

Meanwhile, you can only look at him, with the strangest, most indescribable feeling. In your moment of delusion and grogginess, you though that maybe...maybe you and him had actually...? His back was turned to you still. He's not wearing his top at the moment. You guessed he was trying out new pressure points, or maybe it's just hot out. Night had fallen while you'd been out on the cot. Even in the dimness, lit only with a lantern in the corner, you can't tear your eyes away from the mass of muscles, or the massive scar ripping over them. What had done that to him?

In this era, there's always a bigger fish, you suppose. Someone meaner, someone stronger. Which makes you feel even more relieved with how even Toki's temper was.

"You talked. It was strange," Toki says, voice quiet.

Your face instantly flushes. "I-Oh-Um..." You can't stop the stammering. What the hell are you supposed to say? You can't remember anything you might have said, you just remember the feeling of him-

Toki shifts, hands planting themselves on the edge of the counter in front of him. He continues to muse out loud. “It’s something I’ve rarely seen before. A good deal of people I’ve put into a comatose state don’t speak. It's downright odd..." “Um… what did I say?” You already know it’s a terrible idea to ask.

Toki, under any other circumstance with any other patient, would have changed the subject. He would have lied. For the sake of the comfort of whoever is in his care. But he…he can’t help but satisfy a certain curiosity of his. After all, it's the only reason he'd chosen to share his thoughts out loud. As the only source of medical aid in this town, he hears a bit of this and that from all of his patients. And some of them have looser lips and more open ears than others. “My name. Again and again. You murmured my name,” he responded, voice softening.

“I’m sorry!” you blurt out, suddenly sitting upright and burying your face into your hands. It’s burning red with shame. “I-I didn’t mean to, I just…I just, you were… with- I. I’m sorry.” Toki is quiet. He glances over his shoulder to see you motionless on the bed. Your face is buried in your hands. You take a deep, shaking breath, before your face lifts up again so you can try desperately to defend yourself. “Y-You were in my dream. I couldn’t help it— you’re just…you’re just sweet to me and maybe- maybe my brain took that and-“ You cut yourself off with a frustrated groan. When you finally gain the courage to look back up again, Toki’s at the bedside. You want to melt into the floor and die under that soft blue gaze of his. You could drown in it. Your thighs rub together, you still fucking ache— which doesn’t escape his notice.

“Did I do something to you?” He sits down at the bedside. Your heartbeat quickens. Any soreness that once plagued your body is momentarily forgotten. Meaning Toki’s induced coma must have done some level of good to relieve so much of your pain. You look at him. He was being honest with you. You could… you could extend the same courtesy. And what if he needed to know for a serious medical reason? Or a psychological thing? Maybe that’s why he was prying for details. You nod. “You… um-we… you were touching me.” “How?”

He’s so stern all of the sudden. Usually he seems so relaxed. Calm, like a slow current. But his voice is still soft and deep all the same. He’s unblinking, hanging on to your every word. He must be deeply concerned…you don’t mean to worry him. It must have been serious that you had been talking in your coma and dreaming. Perhaps it hadn't worked...

It's purely professional. It's purely professional. Such silly fantasies and nonsense won't even register with him, you're sure. He just wants what's best for you and to do that, he needs to know everything. You trust him with your life. You take in a breath before confession, voice dropped down, hushed. “Y-You were on top of me at first. Kissing me. And you went lower.” Surely that’s enough for him to get the gist of it. Your face is still hot with embarrassment. Even after hyping yourself up, you can't bear to look at him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, Toki, I-“ you go to apologize again when his only reply is a long, thoughtful silence. “Did you want me to touch you like that?” It’s your turn to stare in silence. A stunned silence. He wouldn’t tell you then, but the look of shock on your face was kinda cute. You get wide eyed, like a doe, lips parted slightly. Like there's words you want to say but they won't come out right. His head tilts a little as he gauges your reaction. “It was, um, just a dream.” “But did you want it?” You bite the inside of your cheek, averting your eyes before giving a curt, slight nod. “I…wasn’t opposed.” Shame still floods you. How could you be admitting this to his face?

Toki can't stand to watch you look that way. All this time he thought you were avoiding him, scared of him even. This was your truth? His own is that he is not opposed to the idea either. Toki knows it isn't entirely...moral to get involved like this with a patient. And it isn't fair considering he's the one who had put you into the coma and was inadvertently responsible for that dream. He is a well practiced, heavily disciplined man.

But just this once, he can't resist. What good is all that rigid discipline if he isn't allowed to give in once in awhile?

It's been far too long since he's felt such pleasure. And by the look on your face, the heat in your cheeks and neck, he figures the same goes for you. His hand suddenly plants itself at the side of your leg. You look up at him, eyes still wide. Toki’s other hand cups your cheek, bringing your face in close to his. He has a gorgeous face. He reminds you of angels, if there were any left to walk this earth. He might be the last. His lips press up against yours. He tastes sweet. Clean. Which is a detail your dream had not included. You feel the bristle of the hair on his face against your skin. Another thing your dream had missed. Your hand drifts up to rest at his chest.

Toki’s hair curtains you as he leans in to kiss you again. The scruff of his beard tickles you and you can’t help but smile and giggle a little bit. Toki just smiles himself, looking up at you through soft blue eyes. They’re warm for blue eyes. He’s sweet to you, through and through. His hands roam your body, soft for a martial arts practitioner, squeezing over your hips as his nose brushes with yours. He continues on peppering kisses at your lips and chin and cheeks. He lands at the tip of your nose. You think you might love him. You've never felt so warm and loved than now, beneath this man. He could have your heart if he wanted to. If you'd allowed it... “…Toki,” you start, voice shaking and distant like you’re not even speaking at all. Toki’s hand goes to brush over your wrist, taking your hand in his own. He’s still straddled over top of you, obscuring the view of anything behind him. Gently, he brings your knuckles up to his lips to kiss at your hand. He keeps them at his lips momentarily, look down at you through thick lashes. He's so gentle with you. So, so gentle. He's mindful of the injuries, of all the bruises, refusing to be the reason your pain worsens. Instead, he gently kisses each one. Meanwhile, his fingers push into your skin slightly, hitting on the pressure points meant to dull aches in the body.

"I was wondering if there was a pressure point that could do...um...this," you manage, trying to lighten the discomfort of how hot and bothered you obviously are beneath him. Stupid beautiful doctor...with his big, warm hands and the kindness in his eyes.

You'd never wanted anyone, anything so badly in your life before. In the face of the nuclear hellscape that was now yours life, as well as many others', any sort of unnecessary want or petty desire had been abandoned in your desperation to survive. With Toki on top of you, you no longer can remember the fear and anxiety of these times. All you know right now is him. In Toki's attempts to soothe your aches, one very annoying one had only gotten more intense. Neediness is an absolute understatement, as well as damp, you're practically soaked for him. It's almost pathetic. With the way your body throbs...you hadn't imagined Toki to use his abilities to his advantage like this. It felt too...sleazy-

"You're mistaken, love," Toki murmurs against your skin. "I've only used my art to take the pain in your body away..." His thick, pale fingers drifted lower, under the waistband of your pants, caressing over your thighs. They delve between, causing you to gasp out, as they trace through your anatomy, gathering your arousal. Two of his fingertips gently rub over your clit, making you whimper beneath him

"This is all you."

Your face gets redder. Toki can't stifle a laugh as he brings his hand, regrettably, back up. His hand leaving you is worse than the embarrassment of realizing the intense horniness is on you, and has nothing to do with any martial art usage on Toki's behalf. He smiles at you.

"Forgive me," he says, "I don't mean to embarrass you. But I'm just not that kind of man-"

"I-I know you aren't. I just...I've never felt like this around anyone before. No one's ever made me feel like this. I kinda thought that maybe-"

Toki quiets you with another kiss. "To want another is the most simple of desires in times like these. I cannot possibly blame you."

"It makes me weak," you barely whisper out.

"Perhaps I want you to be..."

Toki kisses you once more, soft lips moving up against yours. His beard scuffs over your skin and a light, warm huff of air escapes his nose. Too often he is accredited to being weak himself--frail due to his chronic sickness. But he knows he's still strong. He's still powerful. Enough so to protect the truly weak and needy. To protect and hold someone like you. Strong enough to still be relied on. This disease will not take that from him.

It won't take his ability to seek out pleasure either.

Toki drops down lower and lower. The cot's small, barely enough to accommodate his size, along with you beneath him. Conscious, you try to shift up a little bit. His fingers curl at the sides of your pants, pulling them down your legs, along with your underwear. His palm strokes over your leg again, slowly, before bringing it back, crossing it up over his hip and across his back. He leans down between your legs.

His facial hair scratches up against your sensitive inner thighs. His breath is hot on your clit as he starts to lick and suck at it. Your hands drop down, allowing your fingers tangle through his white hair as your hips tense beneath him. Your other hand goes to clasp at your face as you peek through your fingers. Toki's disappointed he won't be able to see such a pretty picture of bliss...but he knows your hand will fall away soon enough. “Relax,” he coos softly, between your legs. One of his hands rubs a slow circle over the side of your thigh. “I won’t hurt you.” “I know,” you say, almost breathlessly. A deep breath. Then a slow exhale out and your muscles seem to become tame beneath his touch. “I know, Toki.” “Good girl.” His praise is the word of God.

The noise you make as his tongue strokes over you--no, no practically through you--are downright sinful in contrast. Already riled up by your not so innocent dream, it doesn't take Toki long to have you begin to tremble beneath him. Your breath catches in your throat, head thrown back onto the cot as you moan out. His name drags off your tongue, as your thighs tighten around his head. The hand, the one in his hair, tightens to yank. Toki takes the opportunity to shove his face flush against your cunt, nose pressing to your clit. You thrash beneath him momentarily in response, before trying desperately to steady yourself, chest rapidly rising and falling. God it's hot out tonight...

Toki glances up as his tongue works. Panting, eyes squeezed shut as sweat visibly drips down your face...your quite the sight. His fingers dig into the meat of your leg a little more tightly. You're panting, mouth partway open, brows drawn tight.

"Breathe..." he reminds you, voice muffled against your skin.

You nod, shakily, just wanting him to get back to sucking, licking, everything. Your breathing, while returned, still only becomes shakier and shakier as his tongue curls inside of you.

"O-Oh, my-" you manage, voice pitched. "Ngh, Toki~"

The flat of his tongue suddenly presses up against your aching cunt, beginning to lap at you. His mouth shifts up so he can focus on your clit once more, beginning to suck. Sheer bliss begins to flow through you, the ice gathering in your core spreading extending itself out to every vein in your body. You cry out, no longer caring how loud you were or if people in the village could hear you. Unconsciously, your hips go to jerk away from Toki's mouth. With a shake of his head, he secures them in his hands, forcing you back down.

"Fu-fuck!" you scream, feeling yourself start to climax, "Toki!"

He knows better than to stop. Again, and again, Toki makes you cum. He laps it up, like a man starved, facial hair glistening in the light of the lantern, just to start all over again. You cry out and stammer unintelligibly beneath his tongue. But he's careful to observe that not once do you ask him to stop. Your hips rock into his face, your grip going from yanking at his hair to pushing up against the back of his head. Toki's thumbs jab slightly into your flexors as he all too enthusiastically pulls your pussy flush to his mouth once more.

You feel his right hand shift, fingers sliding between his legs. With ease, he pushes them into your entrance. Thick fingers hooking to drag against your insides, to push against your walls just right. They're thick, and he practically fills you with only two. As they begin to pump into you, your head rolls against the back of the cot, clenching around him desperately. You become light headed, as you cum a fifth time. Mind almost numb, all you can do is pant out, fingers still knotting in Toki's white hair.

His fingers pull away, as does his mouth. He presses a soft kiss to your inner leg, eliciting another pleasured shiver on your end.

As you gasp for air, Toki's head rests at your pubic bone. His hand reaches up to hold at your waist, still damp, fingers rubbing soft, slow circles into your skin. Your chest rises and falls rapidly. Slowly, your open your eyes again. Minutes later, when you've finally regained enough breath to speak, your hand goes to trail over the back of his. He turns it over, fingers threading between yours to take your hand in his.

"I...I-" you start, "I think I owe you-"

Toki just shakes his head dismissively, shushing you. He pulls himself up to lay alongside you to the best of his ability, in that pathetically small cot. He ends up partially on top of you--you don't mind his weight one bit.

"Nonsense. Just rest well. Consider that plenty payment."

He's a doctor first, of course, with only your best interests at heart.

#nsfw #one shot #fist of the north star #hokuto no ken #toki #toki x reader

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