sera-wonderland - Tumblr blog

sera-wonderland · 8 days

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driving safety / ijichi kiyotaka/fem!reader.

ijichi should be focused on the road. too bad for him, you're sitting right next to him. you can never quite get enough of those little sounds of his.

tags: nsfw. 18+. handjob. sub!ijichi. dom!reader. unsafe driving practices ehe. semi-public. you jerk him off while he drives basically lmao. wc: 2k. a/n: *holds him up like a cat* i just think he's neat

mdni.

Ijichi not being able to meet your eyes shouldn’t have been as cute as it was.

He might have blamed it on proper road etiquette, which seemed to be as much a part of him as his own heartbeat was - but you both knew differently. The bead of sweat curving down his temple and the the ragged breaths falling past his lips was telltale enough. The blush covering his cheeks, neck and ears was just a blaring sign.

Your hand curves a little further alongside the inside of his clothed thigh, and your eyes flash with delight as you feel the wiry muscle underneath twitch. Neither of you are sure whether it’s trying to twitch toward you, or away from you.

Ijichi’s fingers shake against the steering wheel. His knuckles are white.

A lazy smile curves your lips as your fingers dance a little higher, tracing the inside seam of his neatly ironed slacks, until you meet the curve of his groin. You hear Ijichi’s breath hitch, and the thick swallow that follows. Your eyes flick up to the bob of his Adam’s apple, and your gums pulse with the desire to nip at it.

You restrain yourself for now. He was driving, after all.

Your hand pauses against the crook of his thighs, not quite meeting the bulge that you know already sits between them, but the threat is clear. You wait to see if he’ll push you away. He doesn’t - but there’s a rigidity in his ever muscle in his body that makes you think of a marble statue statue.

In a sharp movement, your hand cups him properly through his pants, greedy fingers falling over and squeezing the protrusion of his cock, and you feel it pulse underneath your touch.

Instantly, your name falls past his lips on a rushed exhale, his spine curving forward in his seat slightly. “P-Please,” he breathes out, his whisper almost lost to the sound of the car engine. His eyes fall shut for a second, scrunching as if in pain, before opening wide, seemingly remembering that he was driving all at once. “I’m driving-“

“Do you want me to stop?” You cut in, and Ijichi’s dry lips clamp shut.

You didn’t think so.

Your hand presses against his clothed cock a little more insistently, following the curve of it up and down across his zipper. You don’t miss the way his hips subtly shift, the perceptible buck as his body craves more friction - and you certainly don’t miss the ragged exhale, or the strangled sounds he makes in the back of his throat.

You imagine this must be torture. It would be easy to make him finish into his slacks like some horny delinquent, and the thought of him having to attend his next meeting with his own release coating the inside of his thighs is an appealing one. But you restrain. There were better ways to wind him up.

“Do you want me to touch you properly, Ijichi?” You ask, your voice light and airy, almost caring - had it not been for the subtle bite of teasing underneath.

Ijichi swallows thickly, a moan dying in the back of his throat that makes it sound dangerously like a whimper. “We’re in public,” he murmurs, eyes glancing to the driver's window.

“And?”

The more your hand presses against the bulge in his trousers, the more his forehead seems to inch closer to the steering wheel, his spine arching. His eyes are still glued to the road in front, but you don’t miss the way they snap down to your hand every now and again. He always seemed to be enamored by the sight of you touching him like this, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

A small groan leaves his lips as you press your palm against where the tip of his cock would be, the sound almost pained as his eyebrows twitch inward.

You click your tongue. “Eyes on the road.”

Ijichi’s eyes snap up to the road again, and he just about manages to slow the car down at a stop light before he rear-ends the car in front. Even riled up as he is, the movement of the car is still smooth.

The engine quietens slightly, though the rumble of it is still felt underneath the pair of you. The sound of the indicator seems to match the hush of Ijichi’s breathing and your own excited heartbeat.

A thick silence follows as your hand remains over his clothed cock, feeling it throb underneath your warm palm. To your surprise, Ijichi is the first to break it.

“Please,” he says, his voice thick and strained, his eyes trained on the car in front of you. His pupils are sharp, if not dilated, and he seems to be focusing on the license plate as if it might speak for him.

You tap a finger against his cock, right over where the head would be, and he jolts, a small bleat tumbling past his lips. “What?” You reply. “You have words, don’t you? Use them.”

Ijichi’s resolves weakens further at the tone in your voice, and his shoulders hunch, his eyes flicking down to his knees. He mumbles something, his cheeks darkening, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Try again,” you say, and there’s a clear note of impatience in your voice.

He breathes the same thing out again, and while you hear it perfectly fine, you’re not satisfied.

“If you’re not going to behave then-“ You go to pull your hand away, but quicker than you give Ijichi credit for, his hand jumps from the steering wheel to your wrist, halting your movement. His grip isn’t tight, it’s barely there at all honestly, but there’s a tremble in his fingers that bely his clear desperation. You let him guide your hand back to his trousers, and something close to a whine and a sigh of relief falls from his lips.

“T-take it out,” he says, his voice breaking on the last syllable. He swallows. “Touch… touch me properly. Please.”

The lights turn to green, and Ijichi’s hand quickly leaves yours to return to the steering wheel, the car picking up speed once again.

For once, you decide to oblige him, although you do briefly entertain the idea of leaving him hard and aching in his trousers for longer. You only had a few minutes before you arrived back at the school, however, and you wanted to see him fall apart before that.

With deft fingers, you reach over and quickly unbuckle Ijichi’s belt. The clink of the metal seems like a gunshot in the overheated space of his car. The zipper soon follows, and with enough room to maneuver, you free his weeping cock from the constrains of his trousers.

Ijichi lets out stuttered sigh as you take him into your palm, your fingers gripping the base firmly. A bead of precum glistens at the tip, dripping down the side of his flushed pink head. Your thumb swipes over it, and Ijichi’s knees twitch inward.

You start to stroke him, your hand twisting and sliding against his overheated flesh in a motion that’s become almost routine for you. You were almost sure you knew Ijichi’s cock better than he did now.

“G-God,” he moans out, his breath hitching on every upstroke of your hand. The way his tip was leaking pre was making the glide more and more fluid, and you were beginning to wonder if Ijichi enjoyed the thought of this happening in public more than he initially let on.

“Does it feel good, sweet boy?” You coo, a glint in your eye that's almost predatory. Your incisor bites down on your bottom lip, and Ijichi’s eyes flick to it instantly. You already know the thoughts that are running through his head, because the same ones are running through yours.

He nods, another sigh falling past his lips as you stroke him with a lazy, leisurely pace. Finding his answer unsatisfactory, you give the fat head of his cock a tight squeeze, and Ijichi nearly doubles over.

“So good!” He bleats out. “It f-feels so, so good I-“

His eyes glance down to the sight of his flushed cock in your hands, and his words break off into another pitched moan. He looks back up, and has to rapidly blink away the lustful fog in his eyes in order to concentrate on the road.

It’s rapidly clear that he’s growing closer and closer to the edge. His thighs repeatedly twitch together, and the more pleasure starts to overtake him, the more desperation to cum starts to win over his usual restraint and refinement.

Murmured pleas spill past his throat, and his ragged breaths quickly turn to pants. He can’t buck up into your palm like he usually might, so he has no choice but to settle for the pace you’ve set. You’re not sure if that brings him more pleasure or agony. They often seemed like the same with Ijichi.

“I’m close,” he quickly pants out. His hands shake against the steering wheel, and when he reaches for the gearstick his hand almost slides off of it. “Please, I can’t do this, not here, not while-“

You pump him quicker, and a shout tears it’s way past his lips. The car swerves slightly, but Ijichi is quick to steady it. He calls your name, but the tone is too pitched and warbling to tell whether it’s a plea for you to stop, or a simple call of pleasure.

Torment is clear on his face, his need to cum fighting with his desire not to crash the car with the both of you in it.

The slick, lewd sound of your hand fisting his cock fills the space as you speed increases, and soft ‘ah’s’ and calls of your name leave Ijichi’s mouth like a prayer.

He grows closer and closer to that edge, his cock pulsing in your palm to the beat of his racing pulse, and it looks like it’s taking every fibre of his near limitless concentration to focus on the road. His eyes threaten to scrunch up and close repeatedly, only to blink back wide a second later as he fights the pleasure growing in him.

“Are you going to cum for me, Ijichi?” You say lowly, and a whimper is his immediate reply. “Are you going to spill all over my hand like a good boy?”

That seems to do it for him, because in a moment the car swerves almost dangerously, the wheel knocking against the curb as he hits the breaks. The car lurches, but you don’t have anytime to register that he’s pulled over to the side of the road before Ijichi falls back against the seat, a loud groan leaving his lips.

“Please, hah, please, please-“ His voice is little more than a high-pitched whine at this point, his hips bucking up desperately into your palm now he doesn’t have to use the pedals. A thud rings out in the car as his head falls back against the headrest, his chin jutting up to the roof as his lips fall open. “I’m so close, I’m close-“

A hand falls to your thigh, and his fingers dig into the plush flesh as his eyes stare down at your hand as it works his cock to the end. A shaking whine builds in his throat, his fingers tightening on your thigh until they threaten to bruise.

You quicken your pace just a touch more, focusing on the sensitive head, and he’s teetering right on the edge. A simple ‘cum for me, Ijichi’, is enough to push him over.

“Hah- c-coming! I’m c-” Your name falls past his lips in one long, drawn-out call as his cock twitches. Ropes of his release coat your hand, each pulse being accompanied by a strangled moan as his hips continue to buck up into your palm. Warm, pearlescent cum oozes over your fingers and knuckles, trickling down his own skin, staining his slacks and the hem of his shirt.

He breathes raggedly, his chest heaving. He turns his head almost lifelessly to face you.

You continue to stroke him until his moans are reduced to nothing more than trembling whimpers, his hips still bucking weakly into your hand. Your movements don’t stop until he’s riding the line of oversensitivity, and he’s begging you to stop.

And even then, you continue.

masterlist.

#ijichi kiyotaka x reader #HES MINEEEEEEEEEEEEEE #MY HUSBAND

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