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44st4rs · 23 hours

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YOU GOTTA DRESS THE PART!

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ synopsis: Your new boy toy made himself at home with just the clothes on his back. When asked where all his stuff's gone, all Toji can do is point to the same clothes he appeared to you with. If he's gonna play the role, might as well spoil him too!

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ pairings: widow!fem!reader x toji fushiguro

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ cw: 10k + words, pwp, dubcon, talks/mentions of death, use of petnames, use of an oc, vouyerism, exhibitionism, mirror sex, couch sex, oral(m. receiving), cûm eating, reader gets a little shy, fingering, clït slapping, brat tamer!toji, unprotected sex, panty stealing

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ words from chris: part two is here and i don't know how it got...longer! oh well, it's nasty...and that's exactly how i love my fics to be, xoxo!

part 1! • the man for hire m.list

ONE NEW MESSAGE FROM: XXX-XXX-XXXX

PAYMENT: + ¥ 40,000

Forty thousand yen stare Toji back in his awe-struck face. His thumb's back to swiping again, refreshing the screen as if he's expecting the amount to disappear magically.

But they're not, the five bolded digits simply return each time he dismisses them.

So he blinks. His eyebrow arches, his eyes squint, and he blinks at his phone blankly until something like a smile crosses Toji's features. In a single night, Toji finds himself dancing in Lady Luck's palm. He's got a roof over his head, a nice gig, and a pretty lady at his side—and all he really asked for was a few bucks for food.

He wants to mull over the second thoughts that arise—what if it's just a dream? What if it's too good to be true?

But the numbers on his phone don't lie and the wafting heat of the skillet he's working over isn't a dream.

"She didn't even tell me what she wanted..." Toji mutters as he places his phone down on the granite countertop. He teases the browning edges of the omelette with the spatula he kept in hand.

He doesn't usually take people's requests to heart, but for you—something about you makes him hang up his old ways. It's not like you were kind about it, demanding breakfast right before dozing off in his arms.

When he woke up a few hours earlier, Toji faced your sleeping form. He remembers how he captured you under his fawning gaze. He drank in the shallow breaths flooding your lungs, the supple pout pushed out onto your lips, and the way you wore sleep perfectly.

He didn't know how he ended up cradling you in his arms, but for some reason, Toji was willing to ignore the thought in place of the reality before him. You got comfortable with him fast—or just the presence of having someone else in bed with you once again.

That's when he remembers the notion sweeping over to leave your side with a kiss. A tender peck right on the corner of your mouth to let you know someway and somehow that he wasn't going too far.

Even after hours have passed and daylight's entered the room, he still can't put together why he did that—but regret isn't one of those sentiments.

But now he's here, dressed in nothing but the jeans he came to you with cooking you that desired breakfast. Between each flip of the omelette, Toji's eyes scan about your kitchen—gawking at how every countertop is a thick chiseled slab of red granite, gold accents for the handles of all the drawers, cabinets, and the refrigerator.

A vast island stands right underneath yet another chandelier, catching the peeking rays of sun from the windows. Barstools outline the outer wall along the kitchen's rim, making it the perfect penthouse kitchen.

When he first stumbled into your kitchen, he could only stare. And he still is, but the shock ebbs away with each dish he turns his attention to.

He's ending his working shift with the final plate for breakfast, the small salad joining the ranks of miso soup, steamed rice and rolled omlettes. While Toji's hoping you eat it all, he can't help but entertain the thought of how trusting you are of him.

Maybe it's because of his background and the world he hails from, but to ask a stranger to cook breakfast? What if he's malicious enough to poison you and rob you right in front of your dying eyes? Nothing's stopping him either, but he has his reasons. And then again, he's the one who initiated the verbal contract out of thin air.

You two were made for each other.

The soft creaks of bed springs pull Toji out of his mind and his eyes down the hallway again, piquing his attention.

He's graced by the sight of you, clutching that damned robe as you saunter down the hallway. The lazy steps of your stroll lead you beneath the sun's rays, kissing your skin with its gentle glow.

"Good...morning..." he fumbles over, his blown hues fixed on you.

You catch Toji's gawking stare, a grin teetering on your lips.

"G'morning, Toji. Thank you for cooking," you hum, slipping into a barstool across from Toji's workstation.

"You look real pretty this morning, Princess," Toji purrs as a dopey smile grows across his lips.

"You keep calling me that...why?" you quiz, stretching your arms along the smooth countertop.

"Cause...you're basically living in a castle—hm, more like a tower. And it looks like a castle in here. Feel like Princess is the only thing that comes to mind whenever I look at you."

You lean into Toji's ardor, cradling your chin within your soft palm."That would make you my knight in shining armor, no?"

Toji snickers as he looks down, his hand coming to rub the hairs at the back of his neck. "No, I'm just some guy trying to make a living. Thanks for the honor though, I'll do my best."

Your eyes roam over Toji and the display of his bare chest. It's a broad canvas of muscle, stretched beneath skin, scars, and the ripples of veins. Maybe there's another plus in this little arrangement if you get to wake up to this view every morning. You shamelessly let yourself wander over him, tracing each crest of his abs and the faint streak of hair beneath his navel.

Until you find yourself clinging to a familiar sight.

"Toji," you begin, "Isn't it uncomfortable to wear jeans this early?"

"Eh, it's whatever. Don't got nothing else."

"Nothing else? What do you mean?"

Toji leans over the counter, his features softening as he closes the distance between you both. He could laugh at your naïveté, but he knows you understand him—he didn't stutter. But he'll give in just to watch your face fix itself into some new cute expression, shocked by the state you found him in.

"What you met me in is all I got. 'Cept for the extra brush I found in your bathroom. By the way, who keeps sex toys under the sink?"

A look of utter shock breaks across your face—your eyes shot apart and your jaw slack. "No wonder there was a new brush next to mine! You went through my stuff?!"

Again Toji feigns innocence, hands waving defensively. "Calm down! I like to keep clean. I didn't mean to but I didn't wanna wake you up when I have common sense. Took a shower, brushed my teeth, and now here we are."

"Toji...fine. But after we eat, we're going out."

"Where are we going?" He asks, reaching for two plates from the nearest cabinet.

"Ginza, we gotta get you some clothes, some shoes...eh, guess a little bit of everything."

"Ginza? Isn't there some malls 'round here we could go to instead?"

"Course there is, but I'm taking you to a place I know...personally."

"You're really spoiling me now. Turning into a sugar mommy—Oh! Should I just call you—"

"Keep talking and it's coming out of your paycheck."

Toji brings two plates with him as he settles into a stool beside you, placing the fragile dish in front of you. It's a collection of his labors–a small bowl of miso soup, rolled omelet slices, white rice, and a side salad made of tomato and cucumbers.

Toji shoots you one last smirk before turning into his own meal, "Hope you like it."

"Wow," you marvel, grinning at the colorful display, "I haven't eaten like this in a while."

"Huh? You've got all these ingredients and the space to cook. If you don't do that, then what do you eat?"

"Just some fruit, tea, some sandwiches. I rarely cook for myself these days, but it's getting better."

"Hm, is that right?"

Toji places an outstretched digit beneath the contours of your chin, tilting your head towards him. He's giving you a soft stare, his blue hues fanning over your stuffed cheeks.

"Don't worry about it. Way back when, I used to cook a lot, so I remember some recipes. But 'm not doing it alone, deal?"

You nod at Toji as he swipes along the plump curves of your visage, " 'Kay."

For a man you just hired, he's too kind to you. Since last night, he's been nothing but careful with you. He acts as if he's handling something so precious

"Toji, why are you so nice to me?" You ask between a bite of the fluffy steamed rice.

"Dunno," he shrugs, "This is the only way I know how to treat women. My last wives brought this side out of me. And as for you, it just feels natural. Why...want me to be an asshole to you?"

"No...it was just a thought," you mumble softly.

Then again, that's a passive answer Toji put together on the spot. How could he tell you about the sadness that lingers behind your eyes? It's not apparent to most, but there's a dark haze that blends itself into the color of the iris., dimming the soul's light beneath grief. Toji knows those eyes better than anyone else, especially when he himself dons the same look from time to time.

You cover it up behind a snarky attitude, but he knows that's not who you really are. Something tells him you're actually the complete opposite—a free-spirited soul who makes her own rules in life, a woman who leads with passion before anything else. Someone who opens up as they get comfortable, something he's noticing rather quickly.

And a woman just met one of the world's seven wonders too soon. He even said it to himself as he watched you snuggle up against his chest last night; for however long he ended up staying with you, he wanted to get to know you...the real you.

He can't stop thinking about it, how your bodies fell prey to one another within minutes last night. Your body fitting perfectly in his hands, responding to his every beck and call. Even now he's staring at your lips, swearing that just one more kiss could heal him from the inside out.

That's not something he's experienced before, even with his tattered love history. A whim brought him to your doorstep and this whim is what's leading you both down some new path together.

So if he had to wake up to make breakfast, accompany you on some one-sided outings, and give in to your fancies to see the real you, he'd do it all.

With his last bite, Toji places his chopsticks onto his clear plate. He glances over to you, your plate mirroring his own.

"C'mon," he announces as he stands from his seat. " We gotta get going, right?" I'll clean up here, go shower. Oh and Princess?"

"Yeah?"

Toji catches your eye with a stern squint. "Don't. Take. Long. Twenty minutes. Two. Zero."

"Fine," you scoff, standing on the tile floor at last.

Toji watches as you walk off, your hips bearing a salacious sway with each step.

"Fucking minx," he mumbles to himself as he tends to the cleaning.

Twenty minutes later, Toji strolls over to the couch with a much-needed break on his mind. He grabs his shirt from the couch, slipping the gray top over his shoulder and down his chest before settling into the couch's plush chocolate leather. He's back on his phone, scrolling endlessly through his emails and past texts to pass what seems to be an eternity. His eyes fall onto the time displayed on his screen: 11:24.

You're four minutes over the limit. Should he knock on the door? What if he finds you naked? Now that he thinks about it, that wouldn't bother him much, but his point still stands.

"Y/N! It's not twenty minutes anymore! Hurry up pl-"

"...Toji! I'm ready," you call out, breaking him out of his thoughts.

The soft clicks echoing along the floor breaks Toji's train of thought. As he sits up, his eyes fall on you wearing a sage-green silk dress with a pair of strappy white heels. Your handbag matches your shoes, a detail that Toji finds himself appreciating with a mindless grin.

He stands to greet you, sheepishly slipping his hands into his pockets, "Wow, got me feeling a little underdressed now."

You meet Toji's gaze, arching an eyebrow at his words. "Well, don't. If you're gonna be living with me, we've gotta have you dressed the part. But I mean...if you want that. I'm not trying to force you or anything, I just have a feeling that you might want some options."

Toji joins your side, his hand eagerly resting along your lower back. He's wearing a dumb smirk on his face, watching you click the elevator doors open.

"Aww, trying to be considerate, aren't you?"

"Shut up. Let's get going."

Toji follows behind you, stepping into the small chamber. The scene of the living room closes out before him and he's left with you to muse over. You and that pretty outfit that he's obsessing over. His hand has yet to move from you, not that he has the intention to. He doesn't care if it's shameless or outright wrong, Toji just can't help but stare at you. It's barely been a full day and just your beauty has Toji willingly tied around your finger.

You could ask anything of him and he'd be ready to oblige. In truth, he's brimming with half the nerve to tug that dress up your waist and take you on right here and now. But that's too brash and he knows that. Instead, he's hoping you'll leave him something for the chase of imagination.

"Y/N? Look at me for a sec," Toji hums as his fingers tap against the fabric of your dress.

At Toji's demand, your eyes trace up to his own, the azure hues blown wide. The hand he keeps at your back takes on a new path, sinking along the contour of your hip. He's pulling you dangerously close, the fading scent of the cologne on his shirt filling your nose. You aren't even aware of how quickly you give into his advance, your hand sinking into the shielded profile of his chest.

"Give me a kiss."

"...No."

"Why not?"

"Because," you shrug, "I said so."

Toji's pout is a cute one. His bottom lip bears all the jutting weight, his eyes widen with each mindless blink, and the huff that breaks into the air almost makes you want to take back your cold response. It takes all of your strength from laughing at his ebbing resolve, your teeth biting down at the innards of your cheeks.

"Because...you said so?" Toji repeats as he points a finger towards you.

"Yup. 'Cause I said so."

The soft ding of the opening elevator doors pulls you and Toji from the growing heat of the conversation, revealing the building's lobby.

The softly dimmed space draws you and Toji out of the elevator. You've seen it a million times but it's a sight that claims you with ease. The lobby relies on the power of natural lighting, but with its ambient lighting, it's nothing short of welcoming. The polished cream walls wear tile and the green vines of outgrown plants. The only piece of furniture to exist on the waxy hardwood floor is the front desk, occupied by a certain someone.

"Oh, good morning, Y/N! Out for the day?" a voice greets, earning you and Toji to find the source.

The voice stems from the doorman, Daisuke. He's sixty-five, tall with a softened physique of muscle. Only a handful of wrinkles line his fair skin—the typical crow's feet and smile lines. His eyes are of a deep chocolate, but so soft on whoever they land on. His salt and pepper hair stops just shy of his ears, barely hiding his array of piercings.

Daisuke always works the day shift, with his younger counterpart claiming the night. From conversations you've had over the years, Daisuke was a delinquent back in his younger days but mellowed out once he settled down with his current wife.

You and Toji find yourselves journeying toward Daisuke, you both resting along the rim of the shiny wooden surface.

Daisuke sets his attention on you, smiling as he awaits a response.

"Yup! Going down to Ami's for the day!" your words paired with a grin.

"Good, Good...good..." Daisuke trails off. His sights fall over Toji, scanning every bit of Toji's face. Daisuke's sights fall over Toji, his brown hues narrowing down over Toji.

His disapproval is sketched out with a frown, his upper lip arched with disgust. Daisuke isn't one to hide his opinion, especially towards the man trying to court you. He simply stares at Toji until he's ready to speak, his tone honoring his distaste.

"Who might this be, Miss?"

"Oh! Um...this is Toji...he's uh—"

"An old friend," Toji quickly interrupts. "I'm always traveling for work and finally caught a long enough break to visit Y/N."

"E-Exactly! An old friend..." you nervously fumble out, attaching a weary smile to settle your case.

"Mhm...well, I'm not gonna stop you any longer. Have fun you two!" Daisuke sensing your unease. He waves goodbye to you and Toji as you both walk away towards the doors.

Your digits reach for the golden handle of the door, only for Toji to take the lead. With a heavy push, he opens the door for you to pass. But he's waiting for you to get close, so close that he's right behind you, pressing his chest flush against your back.

He leans in, the heat of his breath brushing past the shell of your ear. "Allow me...friend."

You peer back at Toji, rolling your eyes at his comment. "You called yourself my friend, don't get mad at me...friend."

"Fine, what were you going to call me then?"

The question plagues you into a moment of silence, an audible gasp escaping from your lips. All you can do is blink at him, your fluffy lashes batting themselves until you can finally utter something back to Toji's waiting ears.

"You...you talk too much. Let's just get down to Ginza, alright?"

"Yeah, alright," he sighs, walking beside you once more.

But there's some truth between the lines of Toji's sassy remarks.

Despite Toji's hand slipping into your own as you begin your trek, you can't bring yourself to deny him. His presence carries an ease that calms your heart. It's so calming that you can't begin to pinpoint what he is to you. A stranger? To an extent, but in time that title is going to fade away. If he's a friend, then he shouldn't be this kind with you. A lover, no, but the tendencies aren't so far off.

So....who is Toji Fushiguro to you?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A six-minute train ride and an additional ten-minute walk carry you and Toji face to face with a small building at the end of the block. To the unfamiliar eye, nothing about the store stands out. Not the white brick, not the pink awning, not the vintage door with a grand gold door knob.

And with an unfamiliar eye like the one Toji has, he's scanning over the building. You've brought him to a tailor but that's the opposite of what he needs. He quickly glances over his appearance, there wasn't a hole that he could spot but maybe you have better eyes than he did. He's confused but that doesn't stop him from opening the door for you.

"A tailor? My clothes don't need fixing, Princess," Toji notes as he reaches for the door handle.

"I know, Toji. We're getting you custom-made clothes, silly," you giggle, slipping past the opened door.

The soft scent of clean linen pulls you inside the quaint shop, Toji coming to stand by your side. Your eyes rave about the open floor, not a clothing rack, display table, or mannequin is in sight. Thick palettes of cloth hang from the wall, replacing the initial white-painted walls in splashes of color.

There's cotton, silk, wool, chiffon, and denim just from what you can name. A few doors line the right wall, and the kanji for fitting rooms are inscribed into the wood. Your eyes fall onto another door, placed alone and along the furthest wall of the shop labeled with a name that's too far to read.

Roaming steps lead you deeper inside, the presence of the service desk landing in view. Your curious gaze hinges on the figure of a woman. She's busied herself with something in a notebook, her pen furiously translating her thoughts. Long thick locks of gray shroud her face as she's bent over along the desk's surface, but with the smile stretching across your face, you knew who the woman was all too well.

"Ami!" you squeal, waltzing towards her with open arms.

Ami breaks away from her work to meet you, her cheeks pulled taunt by a full-bodied smile. As she steps away from the counter, you glance over Ami giddily. From the last time you visited her, she hasn't changed.

She dons a veil of gray with grace these days, not a strand of her rich black hair left. She's still wearing that soft expression—her doe eyes wide and brown, her brows eased and plucked thin, her skin fair and gentle, and her lips wear a forever smile.

"Oh, my sweet Y/N!" Ami beams as she pulls you into her arms, the sleeves of her blue sweater pushing along your skin.

"You're glowing, my dear. And you're wearing the dress, it looks so—well, who might this be?" She cuts off, directing her sights to Toji.

You step back from Ami to join Toji's side, giving him a kind yet warning stare. You can't control what he's planning to say, but from what you've gathered so far, he's a blunt man. A blunt man who calls the situation exactly how he sees fit—without shame.

"Hi, I'm Toji," he waves. " Y/N here is my mistr—"

"Friend! He's going to say friend!" You blurt out, welcoming an awkward silence.

You don't have to look at Toji, the heat of a grim squint tells you everything you need to know. You're back to using that damned word, but what else fits? As much as you want to calm him, selling this story to someone as keen as Ami is taking all your focus and energy not to crack beneath the pressure.

Your heart's running on nervous fumes, an echoing pang clogging your ears. All you can do is suffer beneath Ami's careful observation, her big brown doe eyes thinning into a stern squint. She's standing there with her arms folded to her chest, darting her sights from you and Toji.

You're wearing a smile but it's a shaky one, the corners of your mouth quivering with each passing second. You don't know what sort of smile she sees and that's the fact that scares you. You can't tell if she's buying it, but she isn't prying at you for an honest reply.

"Well...it's nice to meet you, Toji! So, what can I do for my favorite customer?"

A sigh of relief pours from your chest, as you lean into Toji's hold, your head resting against his shoulder. His hand quickly laces around your waist, instantly ruining all of your hard work.

So much for being a friend.

"It's him, I wanna get him some custom clothing. Whatever he wants."

"Great! Then I'll leave the hard work to you! Do you mind measuring him?"

"Measure me? Isn't a large enough for me?" Toji asks, turning to you with knitted brows.

"Well, yes a large is enough for you, but it doesn't complement you. Here, I'll show you."

Taking his hand into your own, you lead Toji before a mirror, the glass pane slotted between two fitting room doors. In the reflection, you stand beside Toji, your hand running along the front of his shirt.

"Your proportions aren't something an average man like you has, which means that there's always gonna be spots where there's too much or too little fabric. Like here..."

The tips of your fingers pinch at the hem of Toji's gray thermal, tugging at the loose fabric surrounding his waist. "You've got a small waist but wide shoulders. This shirt looks decent on you, but it's literally just sitting on your body. Let's see if a top made with a bit more for your shape works better."

"Oh, I don't care about that," Toji begins, his stare falling onto you. "As long as I got something on my body. But since you're going out your way for me...I'll try anything once."

You give Toji a faint smirk, his charm's enough to make any woman fall for him.

"Ami," you announced. "We'll be in the fitting room. I'll be done with his measurements in a bit!"

You guide Toji to the lone door at the back of the shop, your hand reaching for the sliver handle–until Toji catches a particular detail.

"Huh...who's name is that on the door?"

"Oh, that's mine. It's a private fitting room made just for my late husband and I," your digits tracing the engraved characters.

"How'd you land that—"

"Oh, Toji!" Ami calls out before you both disappear into the room. "Do you have any fabric preferences? I wanna pick some out while I wait for the measurement."

"Nope, just use your judgment, ma'am," his words inducing a smile along Ami's features.

"Great! There's measuring tape in the room already. So go get measured and I'll pick out some colors and fabric for you!"

You give Ami a nod before sinking past the doorframe with Toji. The door opens up into a dimly lit circular room, welcoming you back with the soft scent of vanilla.

"Just how we left it..."you whisper to yourself, looking around the room.

It's not a huge room, but it's comfortable for two people. Panes of glass line the walls, looping around the curved walls. In the center of the room stands a toffee leather divan bolted to the ground, accompanied by a small glass table with magazines, a candle, and a roll of measuring tape.

"Wow...so this is all yours?" Toji gawks as he strolls around the room. Everywhere he turns, his reflection is everywhere—along with your own. He's stuck on studying your agile steps to the small coffee table, taking the measuring tape in hand. You're twirling it in the palm of your hand as a smile crowds your visage.

"Yeah. Years back, my husband and I were in the neighborhood and came across this place. At the time we needed some clothes for an event coming up and Ami was willing to make them just for us. When we got the order and saw how nicely they fit us, we were sold. My husband and I invested in this place and had it renovated. As a gift, Ami wanted us to build a room just for us and that's exactly what we're standing in."

"So...long ago," you muse. The memory isn't that old but it feels like an eternity has passed since that fateful day. The room that was made as a gift was merely nothing more than a memoir of memories made with you and your late husband.

Until your drifting sights latch on to Toji. He's standing a few feet from you with his hands in his pockets. His head's fallen into a tilt, concern weaving into his features.

"Never mind that, it's in the past now. Ami also works with socialites, doctors, lawyers, governors, anyone really," you brush off swiftly, spinning around to face Toji.

"Mhm..." he mumbles. "So what do you need from me?"

"Could you take your shirt off and stand in front of me? And just relax."

Your instructions are followed down to the letter, Toji presenting himself before you. He tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the divan's cushion. He keeps his arms at his sides, waiting for your next instructions.

"Good...now just let me..." you mutter, pressing the white strip of leather to Toji's skin.

Silence falls over the room, but the tension between you and Toji grows with no bounds. You're gentle when you touch him, placing the marked leather along the curves of Toji's body—his broad shoulders, thick biceps, and sculpted forearms. You save his chest for last, carefully placing the measuring tape along the hull of his rippling pecs.

All Toji can do is watch you hard at work. He's picked up on a quirk of yours, how you bite your lip whenever you're focused. He's touched honestly with how much effort you're putting into him, all this effort put for him.

"I still need an answer, y'know." Your words pulling Toji from his thoughts.

"For?"

You roll the tape back into a small ball, finally setting your attention on Toji. You stare at him with kind eyes, letting your touch explain all he needs to know. The pads of your digits trace the burly hull of his chest, languidly following the rigid print of his faded scars.

"These. How'd you end up with 'em?"

A chuckle rings from his lungs, Toji's chest rippling beneath your wandering touch. He's looking at you, his stare flickering at every inch of your face. Underneath his dim lighting, he's intrigued by the glow behind your eyes. It's a blur of curiosity with the hues of tease. It's a deadly mix—the same deadly mix that rushes through Toji's veins every single day.

"Would you believe me if I said I'm not the best guy? I get into fights for a living and these are simply my reminders of what I do."

"That's fine."

You're...unfazed. He has to blink a few times to register it all—but you simply present him with the same look. He just told you he's no good. Maybe it's too subtle of a warning.

So...He tries again.

"And what if I said my hands are dirty? I'm a selfish man who only lives for himself and the money I make. What would you say about that?"

"That's fine, too."

"God, you're so—"

"Stupid? Crazy?" you interrupt. "If you wanted to hurt me, I gave you all the chances to...and I'm still here. Paint yourself to be the bad guy if you want, try to scare me away...but I don't care. We have a deal remember? And breaking a deal is just bad business."

A smirk cracks along Toji's lips, "Oh, I'm gonna like you."

"Come on, I need to measure you more. Take your pants off too," you huff, stepping back from Toji.

Toji's hand rustles with the metal clasp of his belt, yanking the leather strap loose around his hips, yanking his belt loose. His pants follow the same pattern, the unclasped button granting him the freedom of space. The denim falls from his waist, revealing a black pair of briefs sitting snugly around him.

"I thought you didn't have extra clothes," you ponder aloud as you drop to your knees.

"I always keep an extra pair of underwear."

"Is that right? Well, just stand still and we'll be done soon," your focus already shifting to the small red numbers lacing around his thighs.

And it's a simple task asked of him, but nothing's ever simple with Toji. He's doing his best to behave but innocence isn't and has never been his forte. It's because of you he's struggling beneath a pesky heat that's running amok over his body. He's just too wary of how close you were to him.

He's catching your hot breaths with the front of his briefs, bringing a flurry of twitches to strum through his cock. He has to stand there and ignore how your soft hands travel along his thighs, working so hard to get an accurate number.

Why oh why do you have to look so cute on your knees for him?

Toji's so drawn by his racing imagination, that he nearly misses your question.

"How do you like pants to fit?"

"Oh...some days tight. Some days loose."

"C'mon," you scoff, peering up at Toji. "I need a real answer."

All he can offer you is a coy smile, hiding all his intentions behind the gesture. "Sorry, Princess, I just can't focus right now. Ask me the question again."

"And...what are you doing that you can't focus?" your lips pushing out a pout.

"Don't do that—you know why. I mean, you look so pretty on your knees, doing all this work for me. Can't blame me for these thoughts, they just...come in, y'know?"

You shake your head, "Toji, focus. Let's be pro—"

"Don't shut me down like that. It's always been a fantasy of mine, a quickie in a fitting room."

Toji's hand breaks away from his side to tease you. His thick digits curl beneath your chin, tilting your head to bear the searing heat of his gaze.

"Can't tell me you haven't thought of it too, Princess."

A sigh breaks from your lungs as you drop the roll of measuring tape on the floor. Your hands are eager to be filled, stretched around something thick. It's no wonder that your digits choose Toji's thighs for the job. He fits perfectly in your palm, but he's just so big that your two hands alone can't form a proper grip around him. Your only resort is to tease him, dragging your nails to paint his skin red.

"...And maybe I have. Doesn't mean I should give into it."

Your nails trail up his sides, down the developed curves of his abs, and slowly hang right under his navel. He's playing it off well, but the chills that lick Toji's nerves tell you all you need to know. Antipcipation's making him sensitive from this point on, a ploy that's set to work in your favor. You dress his skin with a single line, the faint flare of crimson mapping your path down to his pelvis.

"Toji?"

"Yeah, Princess?"

"So, it's fine for me to do such a dirty job now?"

Toji's thumb swipes along your bottom lip, "Shhh, just for today, it's okay. I know that greedy mouth wants to taste me."

Toji allows himself to fall into lust by settling into the comfort of the divan, the cushions dipping beneath his weight. He isn't wasting any time to have your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. He already went back on his word—and might as well follow through with his lustful agenda for the moment. He makes quick work of his briefs, tugging the black cotton down his legs. The concealed bulge of his breaks free from its stifling confines, his dribbling cock slapping against his stomach.

All you grant him is a grin of approval as you crawl between his legs, your hands surfacing atop his thighs. But that grin you wear so proudly fades away with the first peck you place along his tanned length. Your lips are met by the quivers of spry veins rising beneath Toji's skin, a testament to the growing pit in his tummy.

Your eyes don't dare to part from his, basking beneath the ravenous glare he's cast upon you. All Toji can do is watch—watch as your playful kisses paint his cock in the pinky hues of your lipgloss.

He's cracking right before you, his lungs barely grasping the thickening air. He's hard, painfully hard at that. All his thoughts rush straight to the crown of his cock, sending an aching headache to rile the swelling tip. He's falling back into the nasty habit of impatience thanks to the mess of pearly tears trailing down his girth, leaving you to catch every drop.

Your lips curve along the juicy tip, suckling at the thick vein that flushes out the underside of his cock. You're so gentle with him that he's flinching, his hips bucking into the air. He's whimpering at your tender display, but that's not all you're pulling from him. Creamy beads drip from Toji's slit, dyeing your skin in his shade of white.

"Mhm, stop teasing me, Princess. Making my cock all pretty with your kisses. Want me you cum just like too, don't—Shit!"

Your puckering pout stretches along the head of Toji's cock, pulling him into your mouth inch by inch. The hot, salty tears of his precum greet you first, the instant reminder flooding your dumbed brain. His essence is something to relish, that deep musk sinking past your senses. Just the taste of him stirs up your mind, prying at some hidden carnal urge.

You're hungry for him, that hidden urge turned into the sin of gluttony. You're hungry for every drop of him, to have his flavor simmer on your tongue for as long as possible.

That newfound urge of yours, your mouth eagerly swallows Toji down to the last inch, your nose cutting into the dark bushel of hairs. But he's so big that you can't keep this up forever. It's a last resort but all you can do is form a loose fist at the base of his cock, softly squeezing at his girth.

"Thaaaat's it, take it all down your throat," Toji cheers, his palm cupping your cheek gently.

It's such a dirty display that Toji can't help but stare—your lips split around his girth. You're leaving him to gawk stupidly at you. There's spit carelessly spilling from the corners of your mouth, whimpers singing from your housed throat and pretty tears staining your skin. You've barely started and you're already driving yourself into a mess on his behalf.

Just his type of woman—so shy, so reserved, but so fucking nasty that not even a picture would be enough proof.

As you find a cadence to strum along to, you suck your cheeks in around Toji. It's a gentle cocoon, wrapping his cock's wrapped in a heaven of velvety bliss. You even enlist your hand to help with your salacious endeavors, the balled fist dragging up and down Toji's sticky length. Now, you're really spoiling him, pitting him to bear the silky fat writhing around his plump cock.

He can't help it, lifting his hips to meet your worked mouth. His hands race to brace the back of your head, his palms smothered over your ears. With the brash snap of his hips, you've driven yourself numb to everything that wasn't Toji.

You've even become numb to your surroundings, nearly dismissing the soft knock on the room's door.

"Y/N! I'm gonna get started on some samples. What are the measurements, darling?"Ami's voice filters through the stained air.

"Better hurry up 'nd tell her. Can't have poor Ami watching her favorite client make a mess of herself," Toji taunts, his hand coming to replace your grip over his cock.

"Oh, yes! His height is 188 cm, waist 72.6 cm, chest 110cm, upper arm 42.5 cm, wrist 19 cm, and collar 38cm! W-We'll come back for the pants another day!"

"Wonderful! I'll get right to work then!" Ami hums. Her shadow beneath the door's crack disappears, taking along that plunging throb in your tummy.

"Toji! That was too—"

The tip of Toji's cock taps at your lips, halting any words to fall from your busy mouth. "Shhhh, I can't wait any more! Finish what you started...or...should I?"

Before you can get a word out, Toji's stuffing his cock back into your mouth, selfishly launching himself back into that drunken bliss with a feverish drive.

With each buck of his hips, Toji's shamelessly engraving himself into you—every vein, every curve, every detail of him engrained to the inner plush of your cheeks. He's addicted to it—to you. Your mouth's just so warm, so soft, so tender. He's losing himself to you without the hope of ever pulling back.

"Oh, that's fuckin—Shiiiit, please....please, y're gonna make me cum!" He chokes out.

Through the budding mist of your lashes, you peer up at Toji, studying his battered form. His teeth are gritted, his fists balled up and with the curse of twitches riddling his cock tells you one thing—he's ready to cum. Toji tosses his head back, the devastation crashing through his body. You're bringing him so close to the edge, but it's teetering on a line he can't cross without you.

"Awww, you like this dick, filling up your pretty little mouth like that?"

A sloppy nod is all you can conjure as the tip of Toji's cock nudges at the back of your throat. His greed's bringing about tears to your eyes, fat tears rolling down your puffy cheeks.

He's chuckling at you for the moment until a crippling heat lays seize to his nursed cock. That pit in his stomach is meeting its limit, forcing Toji to sob out slurred curses of his timely demise.

"Fuck! 'm cumming, 'm cumm-"

Toji drags his twitching cock against your tongue for the last time, pulling away from your gaping mouth. His hand rushes to grip the base of his cock, squeezing every drop of him to rush to the mushroomed head. He smears the tip along your tongue, forcing the slick muscle to dip beneath its weight.

"There's your fucking mess, Princess. Don't waste a drop, 'kay?"

His scent swells within the caverns of your mouth, the thick ropes of white sputtering from the fat juicy crown. A grin spreads itself thin over your lips as Toji ruins your mouth with his scent, drinking down the forbidden fruits of your labor.

"Oh...fuuucck," the words mindlessly falling from Toji's broken lips.

It's such an honor for him, bearing witness to your puffy lips nuzzling along his twitching cock. He's made a real mess of himself but you're here, using that tongue of yours to melt away his sins from white to clear. And you do the job well, all evidence of his high sitting along your tongue.

Such a good girl he's got on his hands.

"C'mere," Toji groans, his hands racing to your own. With his hands for balance, you quickly recover onto your feet. It's a team effort—you pull the dress over your head and he's busy with yanking your panties down your legs.

"Turn around–yup, come sit, I wanna show you something."

He drags you down to his level, seating you on his lap with his hands clipping to your hips. Toji's chest defines the arch that befalls your spine, his skin flush against you.

Toji cups at your jaw, his digits sinking into your cheeks. He's got your full, undivided attention, his hold directing your sights to your reflections.

You're dumbly gawking at the lewd display, your nude form melding into Toji's. You couldn't try to separate where your body begins and where his ends, that's just how close Toji kept you. You look so small in his hold, your hands desperately clinging to his biceps.

His presence is commandeering, even with you as the painting's main subject. Not to mention that just between your legs, his cock's hidden away behind the wall of your smothered thighs, hidden from sight but twitching with anticipation. It's just so...so—

"Spread your legs, Princess. 'M not done with you."

You're hesitant to oblige but your legs still creak apart, all the same, granting for Toji's hand to tend to your cunt.

The thick pads of Toji's digits nestle along the puffy lips of your pussy, spreading the sticky mess apart with a grin.

"Fuck, she's so pretty," he marvels at the reflection. He's lost in the picture your pussy paints in the mirror for him, his digits melding into the precious pink hues hidden between your folds.

It's a sticky mess, but he couldn't care less. He's using such care with you as he traces the fragile curve of your folds, gawking at how your hips buck into his touch.

"Look Princess, god, your pussy's so cute. Wonder what'll happen if I do...this..."

His fingers sink past your folds, the delicate petals glued to his touch. He's rubbing out languid strips to ease those woes of yours, his digit slinking through the sticky channel of essence.

That same finger comes to tease your clit, nudging the glossy pearl spry beneath his touch. And you can't hide it, that sprawling heat growing between your legs. Your clit's overtaken by that heat, the nerves answering Toji's call.

Toji's too gentle for his own good, knowing exactly how to get a rise out of you. And he's winning, thanks to the thickening veil of your honey staining his lithe fingers.

"C'mon look, Princess," he urges, his eyes hinging over the lewd display. "It's too pretty for just me to see."

"N-No, Toji. It's too much!" you squirm, but the hold he has over your jaw doesn't budge not even an inch.

His lips press at the curve of your shoulder, his greedy tongue slipping past to lick a lazy trail along your skin as he takes to the shell of your ear.

"'Nd why's it too much for you, Baby? Too much to see how cute your pussy is? You just gotta, but...I guess I can tell you since you don't wanna see..."

"No, Toji, wait!—"

"Shhh, did you hear that?" His fingers gently drumming at your gasping slit. "Oh, you're so fucking wet."

"Mm, 'm not gonna look Toji."

"Why not?"

"I just don't want to! D-Do I have to look, it's feels so good—"

"You don't wanna look? Ha! that's real cute, Princess. Something a brat like you would...Hm...don't tell me you're a brat, mommy...I like those."

"Mm, No, Toji. I can't—" you sob, screwing your eyes shut.

"So that's how it is?" Toji sneers. His voice carries a cold annoyance with you. You know he's planning something to combat your arrogance, something made just for you.

Toji's fingers fan across the sloppy mess of your folds, his thick digits landing a firm slap over the twitching bud of your clit.

Your breathy gasp falls on his ears, but without a care to be found, he's merely ignoring you. His stare turns cold as he scans your splayed rest against his chest. You aren't even making an attempt to free yourself with a response–just keeping your eyes screwed shut and your head whipped away from the mirror's grand reflection.

"Well...are you?" Toji pries sternly. " 'M not gonna stop til you say something. Not when I'm liking this cute lil' pussy."

And not a lie falls from Toji's barred tongue. The lewd crashes of his slicked fingers against your pitiful cunt rings around the room. He's playing with your clit as if he's forgotten that you could cum at any given moment, forgoing composure for the time being. You're just so wet, dripping with the same essence that drives him near mad. He wants a taste so bad, his mouth watering at how your pussy squelches beneath his touch.

Yet all those wishes and desires bubbling at the forefront of Toji's mind didn't stop his fingers from finding the cute bulb, the weeping throbs melding into the tips of his punishing digits.

Your rambling sobs threaten to drown the sweet symphony, Toji simply grins. Your cries are nothing when his blows can carry just a little more weight. His hand winds back this time, cutting through the air to deliver a stinging jolt to trace through your hips.

"Fuck, Toji, okay, okay!" you whine at last, " 'M not a brat!"

Toji halts his wrist for the moment. Finally, you're giving up, another land of his slaps and he's sure you would've soaked his pants. He moves to soothe your throbbing clit with a rewarding slew of laggardly drawn circles.

"Then, tell me... what are you?"

"A...A...princess."

Toji grins as he presses a kiss along your puckering pout. "Good girl! That attitude isn't for you, too pretty for that. 'Nd I like hearing manners from that mouth of yours."

Toji groans as he pulls you further along his lap. His cock's nuzzled right between the curve of your ass and that spout of friction sends his dormant nerves buzzing yet again.

It doesn't help that he's been catching your slick from his lesson of discipline a thick stream of gloss dripping down his cock. Blood rushes to cram into every inch of his cock. Toji can't even try to hide it, not when his cock's growing so heavy that it's bearing that familiar upright curve again.

"Oh shit...'m getting–"

Your hand reaches down between your legs to lace around his girth, the pads of your digits drifting around the blushing tip.

Your hands are so soft that Toji's flinching, his hips jerking as your fist encircles the mushroomed tip. "Sorry, Dollface. Should've grabbed some condoms before coming here.

"I don't mind if we don't use one."

"A-Are you sure? Really, I can wait for when we–"

Toji's long-winded pleas fall short on your ears, your lithe hands swiftly aligning him with your hole.

"Toji," you coo.

"Yes?"

"Hurry up and fuck me already...please."

A part of Toji wishes you wouldn't use such a word—fucking. He isn't fucking you and hasn't been since last night. Not when he wants to see your cute expression, trying to guess how deep he's ended up. He isn't fucking you when he wants to hold you just like this, keeping your body wrapped up in his arms.

He's too interested in finding ways to ruin you just to be fucking you.

He hasn't found a word to describe what exactly he's doing the moment his cock sinks into you, but it surely isn't anywhere near something as heartless and crude as "fucking".

The head of his cock paints your slit in sloppy kisses before his girth robs you of composure. He's watching the swelled mounds of your folds split at his length, painting the throbbing veins in your essence. You feel so good around him, enveloping his cock in your heat.

But it's something he shouldn't even have the honor of bearing witness to, especially when you're back to hiding in the crook of his neck.

"C'mon, let's watch together," he purrs, cupping your jaw firmly once more within his broad digits. He's directing your sights to the pane of glass before you both, your flaring eyes gawking at the scene.

"We can see everything, baby. Get to finally see how greedy this pussy is too–fuck. Taking every inch of me...just...like...that."

He's back to stretching you again, his pudgy girth bullying your pussy to accept him. But his face tells you a different story, his skin flushed in bliss's shade of rouge. He's squirming beneath you, desperately trying to stop himself from getting ahead. He's filling your ear with rambles, mumbling off some mantra of being patient.

Toji's patience's warranted when he huffs out a groan, tossing his head back when he buries himself to the hilt at last. The hairs decorating the base of his cock brush against you as he grinds his hips against your ass, the bush of onyx tickling the bare skin of your cunt.

"See?" he groans breathlessly, "Did such a good job, Baby! N-Now, lemme...lemme make this pussy all mine."

The languid drop of Toji's hips pulls you from his lips, a weak keen escaping your lips. He buys himself an inch or two before flooding your senses again, the thich crown of his cock pecking at your core.

Toji's noticing how you ease up each time he meets your sweet spot with a kiss.

He brings his hips to an angle when his hips drop this time. He's praying that the thick curve of his underside works in his favor to hit all your sweet spots in a single stride. His hands reach to cup at the back of your knees, pinning your limp body to his own.

"Ohmy–fuuuuck, Toji!"

The crashing barrage of waves his hips carry rip through your pert ass, trailing all the way to the underside of your thighs. Suddenly, he's reaching so much deeper than before, his eyes bearing witness to his cock stretching with ease. His excitement's getting the better of him, coaxing Toji to feed your poor cunt with relentless strides.

"That's it, Princess, take that fucking dick!"

Your lips unwind at his praise, his name rolling off your lolling tongue. In the heat of your bliss, you steal a glance at your silhouettes in the mirror, eyes falling right on the sinful fixture of where you and Toji meld. It's a dizzying sight to swallow, your hazy stare watching your own cunt swallow down Toji for every inch he has. It's so lewd but...so...so mesmerizing!

It's wrong but you can't look away from the swell of your lips splitting around the fat of his cock. It's like he belongs there with the way his hips snap riveting strokes to flush your pussy raw. He's pulling everything out of you, rousing the overwhelming swell of heat to rile your nerves.

He's harboring a resilient drive now, earning the badge of a thick white ring wrapped around the base of his cock. But he isn't working this hard for nothing. He's trying to drown out the facts of just how good you feel around him.

Your fluttering walls coddle his shaft with pecks, the suckling heat gnawing at his ebbing resistance, the way you're peering at him with those eyes—those blown hues begging for just an inch of relief. You've got Toji's body running hot, thriving off nothing but carnal lust.

He knows you're close, but he wants to cum with you even more. He's more than aware of the fact that if he hits your core just one more time, that would be your undoing.

But you just can't cum yet...you can't.

Toji graces your visage with a kiss, pity souring his thoughts. You're ruined by him; tear-stained cheeks, spit-ridden lips, and the dumb rambles falling from your mouth prove his theory to be true.

"You wanna cum, don't you, Princess?"

"Y-Yes...p-please, Toji!" you sniffle, nodding frantically at his inquiry.

"T-Then cum with me!" he sobs, his forehead dipping into the crook of your neck.

Your bodies catch the seizing hold of anticipation, the promise of bliss breaking over you. "Mmm, Tojiiii!" you hysterically bawl.

It's selfish to seek out his aid but the pit in your tummy's too much for you alone to handle this time. It's a sweeping spasm, capturing your body whole. Hot white steaks lick across your skin as you arrive at your high. It takes every ounce of your being to sustain, your back bearing a harsh arch. Just as it came, your high quickly ebbs away from you, rendering you into a panting mess.

Toji does all he can to free himself from your silky walls, his hips dropping from your own. He's pitted his cock to relish the final moments alone before the compelling surge of white explodes from the fat head, your inner thigh lathered rich in his scent.

"Fuckfuckfuck, I c-can't stop—hnn!" Toji blubbers, his stomach caving in against your back. He tosses his head back along the divan's frame, writhing beneath the weight of his high pins upon him.

Your blurry vision falls onto Toji, basking in what his own orgasm had planned for him. He's gritting his teeth. You want to help him, but just as your own, this is something Toji has to bear on his own.

All you have for him is a kiss, your lips simmering at the corner of his mouth. It isn't even a minute before your kind gesture is returned by Toji. It's soft kiss, his lips barely sinking into yours. He lazily pulls away, wearing a weak smile to greet you.

"T-Thank you, Princess."

"C'mon, let's get out of here. I'm sure Ami is waiting out there," Toji croaks, pressing one last peck to your cheek.

You nod weakly, planting yourself on the plush carpet. Toji follows right behind you with his hand too fond of your lower back. He helps you first, slipping the sage dress down your body before tending to himself.

"Oh," he calls out, reaching for your panties. "You don't need this right?"

"And what are you going to do with them?"

Toji stuffs the lacy material into his back pocket, tugging away any evidence of his perverted ways.

"Told you I'm no good. I steal too."

"Go ahead...but it's just because I'm too tired to argue right now," you hint as you wait for him by the door.

You and Toji quickly slip past the private fitting room's door, walking into an empty lobby.

"Huh, guess we beat her—"

"Okay guys! I just finished the samples, sorry to keep you guys waiting. Come back next week and I'll have the full order of tops done. We can get his bottom done as well!" Ami announced.

You and Toji watch the woman with dumb, gaping eyes, right until she stands before you both. You sheepishly accept the bag in her hand, Toji reaching out to take it from you.

Guess luck is still on your side.

"Okay," you mutter slowly. I'm gonna use the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Toji offers you a nod, watching you disappear behind the service desk.

"Wow, it's so good to see her back to her old self," Ami shares, her comment piquing Toji's interest.

"Why? Oh! Because her husband passed right?"

"Yes, she's been so sad for the past four years. So seeing her out and about again brings me such ease."

"Wait, four years? Her husband died three years ago..."

"Yes, that's still right," Ami avows, "But he was diagnosed a year before his death. They tried so many treatments, and hospitals—all that money couldn't get him a reasonable recovery. Then, one day he simply called off all treatment and wanted to spend his final days at home with his wife. So even before his initial death, she was already filled with grief."

"Is that so..." Toji hums, his attention called back as you return to the sales floor.

"Okay, sorry about that. Ready to do Toji?"

"Yeah...thank you again, Ami," he waves at Ami, his quick steps bringing him to join your side.

"Bye Ami! See you next week!" you grin.

With the chime of the door's bell, you and Toji are transported back outside onto the streets of Ginza.

The sun's setting tendrils blaze through the orange sky, hues of purple, rose, and yellow casting themselves across the horizon. The buildings nearby bask beneath the gentle glow of dusk as night teases its way in.

"You wanna get on the train again?" Toji hums as he faces you. He's wearing that dumb look again, gawking at how your afterglow drinks in the day's final rays.

"No, it's nice out. Let's walk back home," you suggest, earning a nod from Toji.

You both begin on your trek home, slipping your hand into his.

He's too busy racking his brain to notice the gesture but he welcomes it all the more. You were vague with the details of your husband's death, but to know how much grief you've endured in recent years pulls at Toji's heartstrings.

He knows he's no replacement—hell, you're the one spoiling him. But he knows he can still give you something of his—his time and effort.

In the long run, his time and effort might not amount to much. But somehow and someway, he's hellbent on making his own mission to cheer you up. And no, you didn't ask for a savior, and he's far from being called on.

But call it compassion from the resident wanderer.

"Hey...Princess?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I call you my lady?"

You stop dead in your tracks, forcing Toji to come to his own stop.

"What?"

"How about I call you...my lady? It doesn't need to have any romance behind it and it kinda sums up what you are to me."

"And what are you to me? Not a friend since you get all pissy."

"I don't get pissy, thank you very much," Toji scoffs. He places himself in front of you, wanting to read your reactions as he urgently tries to explain himself.

"I mean, you hired me to be your boy toy. Now, I have no issue saying that, but I can see where that might not sound too pleasing to others. So...you're my lady...my mistress even. How does that sound?"

"I'll take lady, mistress is no better than boy toy."

"Great!" Toji smiles. You playfully roll your eyes, attempting to step away from Toji—but he isn't done with you yet.

No, how could he be?

His hand's swift to grace the dip of your back, pushing you flush against his chest. A mischievous grin curls onto his lips as he scours that bombshell look on your face. It's been a day and you still aren't used to his brash advances—something you know you'll adjust to in time.

But Toji's playing coy, blowing you a teasing kiss. He just has one more thing to say, and he hopes you're ready to agree.

"Can we kiss on it?"

TAGS: @pixelsanji @sleepy3 @slaughterakira @woahhajime @champagnej @shuxjodie @just-yer-average-key @bontensbabygirl @tojitsukaisen @serenareiss @omniuravity @sweeneyblue1 @yukihime-mikeys-girl @kazusugar @jjjangsta @10-jiku @missyasma @a3trogirl @chaoticevilbakugo @luvrdrop @yourmommy52726 @widepipepaladiknight @tojishugetiddies @nekoriots @ladyackermann @tonaken @holychocopie @dukina @kensgff @humantrashcan2000 @batmanslittlelover @23victoria @sisnot @insideboburnham @shima707 @patchi-chi @brokenheartshards @akiko0-0 @mx-luvzz @whore02 @lilystarknette @hannas16 @girlwith-kalei-do-scope-eyes @your-favorite-god @missakward123 @ssetsuka @alwaysfreakingout @httpstoyosi

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depravitycentral · 3 days

Text

Yandere! Asahi Azumane NSFW Profile

Yandere! Asahi Azumane x fem! reader

TW: kidnapping, mentions of non-con, light somnophilia, masturbation, panty sniffing, breeding, lactation kink, mentions of pegging, Asahi wears lingerie, size kink but remember that Asahi is very large and it's written with the idea that everyone is smaller than Asahi, one very, very brief mention of reading not eating enough, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

HABITS:

Before having you in his life, sex was something Asahi wasn’t super comfortable with. Despite coming more out of his shell with the passing years, he’s never truly shaken off his shyness, and so the prospect of casual sex is absolutely not something he’s interested in.

He’s had a girlfriend or two and is thus not a stranger to women’s bodies, but he’s found that he’s simply just not that sexual of a man. Sex just wasn’t important to think about – he gets easily flustered even as a fully grown adult, and while he can handle mature conversations about intimacy, just the thought of being so lewd and bending someone over to have his way with them gets his ears turning red, his knees buckling and his words coming out all slurred and distorted because he can’t think clearly.

It’s embarrassing, if he’s being honest, and so he finds himself simply avoiding sex and, in turn, partners. And this extended into his personal sex life and habits as well – he’s not the most regular in terms of touching himself, preferring to just let the bout of horniness or the occasional incessant boner pass on its own.

He’ll do it occasionally to relieve tension and because he enjoyed how it feels, but it’d only happen a few times a month, if only because the embarrassment was difficult to overlook. After all, how lonely is it to look down and see his own hand wrapped around his cock? Familiar fingers gripping his red, swollen length in the comfort of his own room, the lame background music he’d put on to feel better doing absolutely nothing.

The reality is that Asahi is actually quite lonely before you step into his life – he's not quite smooth and suave enough to be successful with women or even be willing to put himself out there, and the realization that the only way for him to get some sort of sexual relief is via himself makes him too sad to indulge often.

And even once you step into his life, this is still true – except now there’s the addition feeling of yearning, wishing so strongly that it’s your fingers instead of his own (or perhaps your mouth, your breasts, or – god forbid – your pussy) that touching himself becomes even more of an emotional struggle.

And as time passes, Asahi sticks to his typical pattern of seldomly masturbating – but then his feelings grow deeper, his infatuation with you festering more and more, his thoughts about you delicately toeing the line between sweet and only slightly disturbing to downright depraved.

After all, how can he not imagine fucking you in every position he’s ever seen?

How can he not imagine the sight of you perched in his lap, pretty body bare for him to ogle while you scoop your hips up and down, moaning his name and guiding your lips to latch onto a bouncing nipple, your cunt squeezing down on him like a fucking vice?

The embarrassment is still there, of course, as is the shame and loneliness, but his feelings for you are just too strong to ignore, his desperation too insistent to quell. And with every gasping, toe-curling orgasm that wracks his body, Asahi comes closer and closer to deciding that he needs you, that just his hand or his pillow aren’t enough to satisfy him.

No, he needs you – your touch, your body, your pretty, tight, warm walls sucking him in so hard that you never let him go.

As the frequency with which he gets off increases, Asahi finds that he has a particular system for how he pleasures himself - and it involves a secret that he is not proud of.

He’s not especially proud of the fact that he relies exclusively on the (now a bit ragged) pair of panties you’d accidentally left at his apartment in order to get off, but it’s too late to change now. You’d had a rather serious dental procedure, and had turned to Asahi to request that you stay the night at his place to minimize your driving and responsibilities while the anesthesia wore off.

Asahi had of course jumped at the chance, ending the phone call with shaking fingers, a blush covering every inch of his face, and his heart practically beating out of his chest at the prospect of sharing a roof with you for a night just like couples do. And he’d been attentive to your every need; cooking you a warm soup, getting the best sheets he had and letting you sleep in his bed rather than the couch.

(Of course, he still hasn’t washed those sheets after you’d slept in them – if he tries hard enough to thinks he can smell you in the fabric, occasionally finding strands of your hair by his pillow and letting each one sit on the tip of his tongue for just a moment, savoring the taste of you.)

You’d forgotten a pair of underwear in your overnight bag, and while Asahi had meant to tell you, curiosity got the better of him and before he knew it he was picking them up, swallowing thickly, and thumbing at the double-layered section that rubs right up against your folds. It was all too easy to imagine how you must look in them – the mental image of you making a shiver erupt down his spine, needing to lean on his desk for support.

He felt a bit guilty for not returning them, but he couldn’t help it - they were so utterly you, your favorite color and a style he just knows would frame your cute little ass perfectly, your plush thighs and creamy skin sitting on display and practically begging to be kneaded, squeezed at, marked up and bruised with hickeys.

And that night, as he lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking of your face and how he’d quite literally give up his own life just to kiss you once, just to feel your lips pressed snugly against his own, slowly the more risqué thoughts are drifting into his mind.

What would it feel like to have you kiss other parts of his body? How would you taste if he kissed your collarbone, gently suckled on a nipple, licked a long stripe up the puffy lips of your cunt?

How would you react if he were to teasingly kitten lick at your clit, or if he whispered a heated, honest I love you into your ear as he pushed deep inside of you and filled you to fucking brim with his cum?

His mind slowly drifts to more lewd areas, his body growing hot as he imagines you riding him like your life depended on it, bouncing up and down and making your entire body jiggle, your tits bouncing in his face and your voice thin and gasping as you tell him that it’s too much, I can’t Asahi, please, need you to fuck me now…

And soon, he’s deciding that he can’t just ignore the stroke of luck he’d gotten that day, that he’d somehow managed to come by a pair of your panties, something he’s only been able to dream about. And as he locks his door and dims the lights a bit, he’s snatching the pair of panties he’d neatly folded and placed on top of his dresser.

Immediately, he notices the slight fresh stain against the crotch, and his eyes go wide - you had already worn them? They’d already touched the slick, warm place between your legs, the place that gets Asahi salivating and bright red with just a mere thought?

With shaking hands, he timidly brings the cloth up to his nose, inhaling and moaning aloud as the smell he can only describe as you clouds his senses. They’re pungent, proof that you must have had a long day with them adorning your pretty body, and immediately his cock is standing at attention, his tip flushed and oozing precum in copious amounts, his balls occasionally twitching in desperation, practically begging to be touched. He lays the panties down against his face, tilting his head back slightly so that the cloth stays against his nostrils, the smell of you filling every breath his takes.

He gulps, wrapping his fingers around himself, hissing slightly at the pressure and letting his eyes drift closed. He gently squeezes, bringing his hand up to the tip, using his thumb to swirl around his slit for a moment as he brings the material once more up to inhale again.

He groans, the pleasure sending shivers down his spine, and before he knows it his fist is pounding down against his pelvis, long strokes against his rock hard cock as he grunts and lowly moans your name, airy breaths of oh – oh you’re so pretty, I love you – hah, love that pretty pussy of yours.

The pace is purposefully slow, his movements still a bit timid because he’s worried he’ll come too fast, that he’s too pent up, that the smell of you will send him over the edge way too soon.

He doesn’t want this moment to end – the pleasure, the exploration, the feeling of having you the closest he’s ever had. He continues to sniff and whine, absolutely amazed at the wonderful, musky scent of you, fantasies running through his mind about the way you’d react to him touching you, to him sinking his cock inside of you again and again and turning you into a trembling, incoherent mess all for him.

He can’t help himself from imagining what you’d smell like when you’re finally in front of him, a groan slipping from his lips as he imagines the way you’d feel perched on his face, your thighs caging in his head and your fingers raking through his hair as he slurps and sucks and moans against you, desperation lacing his movements because god he wants to make you come.

He can’t help but imagine you taking every inch of him inside that warm little pussy of yours, sucking him in and gripping onto his swollen length so tightly he’s sure you must never want to let go. And his eyes flutter close his lips part slightly, drool pooling in his mouth as he loses himself in the pleasure, the feeling of his hand so much better than normal now that he has something to smell, something that’s so clearly you rather than just his thoughts. His hand picks up a bit, and as his tongue darts out to lick his lips, panties still draped over his face when he stops short, eyes flying open as his hips buck wildly.

Tentatively he sticks his tongue out once more, rolling it against the crotch of your panties. Immediately his eyes are flying open and he’s whining your name, hips bucking up as he runs his tongue along the fabric once more, relishing the taste of you against his tongue.

Curses and whimpers of your name along with yes, o-oh yes yes yes, god feels so – so good fly out of his mouth. Suddenly a particularly hard clench of his abs makes him gasp, the words slurred and nearly incoherent as he moans out ‘m gonna – I can’t hold it in, a-ah oh god ‘m-!

His whole body tenses, every breath he takes smelling like you you you as warm cum spurts up and onto his chest, the t-shirt he’s wearing utterly destroyed as it just keeps coming, rope after rope. He’s moaning your name, eyes squeezed shut as he loses himself in your taste, imagining he’s buried as deeply in you as possible, stuffing you full of his cock that he’s all you can feel, all you can see and hear and taste and think of.

It takes him a few minutes to recover, and once his breathing is steady once more he’s staring at his ceiling, in shock of how good it felt to have your scent and taste, to make it seem just a bit more realistic. He’s careful with your panties as he delicately picks them up off of his face, chest still heaving with the residual pleasure of his orgasm, dutifully and carefully folding up the cloth.

After much debate he ends up slotting the panties neatly under his pillow, swallowing heavily and practically giddy with the knowledge that he’ll be sleeping so close to something of yours, his face mere inches away from you, basically.

And that night, as he lays in bed, he’s breathing in hard, hoping to get even the slightest whiff of you from below his pillow, sleep eventually lulling him into dreaming about you laying in his arms, his cum still leaking out of you.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your hands

Asahi’s always found himself drawn to your hands. Perhaps because his job requires so much of his hands between sewing, measuring, tailoring, and everything else, or perhaps because he’s simply attracted to them.

Regardless, Asahi quickly discovers that every time he’s with you, he’s always aching to reach out and intertwine his fingers with yours, to feel your palm pressed against his own.

And really, they’re just so small compared to his own rough, calloused hands – so soft and delicate, something he can stare at for hours without growing tired.

He’ll trace every line, every mole and mark, memorizing each and every detail because it all just feels so important. He doesn’t care whether your fingers are long and dainty, shorter and wider, veiny and pale, anything and everything is pure perfection to Asahi, and he’ll be worshipping your hands no matter what condition they’re in.

Even in the early stages of his obsession with you, he’s always been interested in them – the way you idly crack your knuckles, how you mindlessly tap random rhythms against your desk when you’re bored or waiting for something, how you run your fingers over your hair when you’re focusing.

He has a tendency to stare, and while he thinks that you don’t catch him often (you d0, but based upon the fire engine blush on his cheeks and the way his eyes immediately dart away, you figure it’d be kinder to not confront him about it), he’s been fascinated since day one with how they could possibly feel, how soft your fingers would be, the exact lines on your palms, whether they get clammy easily or not.

And once your relationship moves to the point of any sort of affection, Asahi’s preference for your hands will quickly become apparent – he’s trying to hold them at any chance he can get, intertwining his fingers with your own, bringing them up to kiss each knuckle individually, listing off a thing he loves about you for each.

He loves the way they feel against his own calloused palms, how your fingers are so much shorter than his own, how when you hold your palm up against his, you barely reach his last knuckles.

It only furthers his perception of you being so in need of protection, and he loves to feel those hands against him, touching him. He loves the sight of your fingers wrapped around his thick cock, barely able to wrap fully around, such a stark contrast to the hard, pulsing, veiny expanse of his length. He loves the friction as you thrust your hand up and down, biting his lip and knitting his brows together because even though it’s just a simple handjob it feels so much better when it’s your hands and fingers wrapped around him.

He loves how they feel against him when you’re touching him, running them along his front and down below his v line, how it sends shivers down his spine just to have you ghost a fingertip against his sensitive skin.

He likes holding your hand while he fucks you, keeping his grip on you firm as his hips steadily thrust into you, the pleasure slowly mounting. His fingers clench onto your own progressively tighter, until they nearly crush yours as he stares down at you with wide eyes, his lips falling open into a desperate moan of I – coming! while he buries his face in your neck, filling you with spurt after spurt of cum.

He loves the way you scratch his down his back as he hovers over you, the pleasure and pain mixing together while he focuses on holding off his orgasm for as long as possible, not wanting to end the feeling of being inside of you, not wanting to end the way you’re clutching onto him and moaning for him, begging for him and telling him that he feels so good Asahi ‘m gonna come-!

Asahi loves your hands, and at any given time he’ll be touching them in some capacity - whether it be holding your hand, resting his cheeks against your palm or sucking at your fingers while you toy with him and make tears well up in those pretty eyes of his.

He just loves them.

His hair

He’s long harbored fantasies of you playing with his hair, to feel you giving it attention and mindlessly running your fingers through it.

He’s absolutely convinced that it would be the most comfortable, wonderful thing in the world, that it would be the single most amazing experience he’ll ever have, to have your attention solely focused on him, you touching him, maybe even telling him how lovely his hair is, how you’re jealous of how soft and smooth and pretty it is…

Just the thought of you complimenting his hair is enough to have him wildly blushing, his dark eyes staring at the floor in embarrassment and bashfulness, secretly yearning for you to tell him more, to compliment him again and again until he faints from all the blood rushing to his cheeks.

(And, though he’d never tell you, to his cock, too.)

And once you’re trapped with him in your new shared ‘home’, Asahi is still harboring the fantasy, even more so than before – and yet, he will never ask for it, never request for you to play with it, to run your nails against his scalp and gently tug on the roots.

He wont’ ask, if only because it feels wrong to request anything of you after he’s kidnapped you, when you’re so obviously still afraid of him.

So he waits in silence, praying for the day when you mindlessly start playing with his hair – he’ll always position himself so that his hair is accessible if the desire overtakes you, a small flame of hope igniting in him chest and extinguishing out every time you move and don’t come any closer to his head.

(He goes to bed on those nights with a heavy heart, his own tangling into his hair and tugging, your name slipping past his lips.)

But Asahi is a patient man, and once you do start absentmindedly playing with his hair, Asahi is beyond pleased to know that you don’t stop. You seem to grow an affinity for running your fingers through it, for braiding it, styling it, really doing anything at all.

He knows that you enjoy his hair – it becomes his favorite thing in the world to feel you play with it, and he spends hours with you sitting behind him with his head leaning back between your knees, his body starting out stiff because holy shit, he’s so close to you, but eventually relaxing, even falling into a slumber because the feeling is just so calming. He wants you to braid it, mess with it, do anything your heart desires with it because he loves the attention and the relaxing feeling it brings.

But of course, he also loves his locks for other, less wholesome reasons - the way you tug at it when he’s got his face buried between your legs, for example, and how your grip tightens against his scalp as you get closer and closer to release.

Sometimes you synch your cries with the tugs, something that Asahi is sure you’re unaware of, but he can’t help the way he forces himself to work harder, to focus more in order to get you off, in order make you have the most Earth shattering orgasm, the best feeling you’ve ever experienced, and with each hair tug he only becomes more determined.

He loves the way you get rough with it, the slight tinge of pain that accompanies it, and it never fails to make him groan, to sigh out your name against your cunt.

(Sometimes, when he’s in the mood but you physically aren’t in a position to touch his hair, he’ll reach up and tug at the strands himself, imagining your fingers instead of his own. It gets him whimpering, desperation for you so thick that he can nearly taste it, but Asahi just can’t help it. It’s an obsession in and of its own right, and he can’t deny how much he loves it.)

DRIVE:

Asahi’s drive is really quite average – he’s not an incessantly horny man by any means, and while he does have the occasional passing fantasy or wet dream, he’d never categorize himself as a hormone-driven man. He doesn’t watch porn, doesn’t follow any social media influencers whose content borders on the edge of distasteful, and he sometimes even fastforwards through sex scenes in movies simply because he finds it uncomfortable to watch two people having sex – even if it’s fake.

And so Asahi finds himself mostly avoiding intimacy on that level, though it’s not entirely on purpose. He’s by no means a saint, though; he’s still human, and when he sees a woman with particularly large breasts or perfectly manicured fingers there’s always the fleeting thought of what if, the fantasies clawing in the back of his mind of how he’d love to latch onto a nipple and suck, to imagine how much better those fingers would look wrapped around his cock or cupping at his balls.

He rarely touches himself, sure, but he’s not a stranger to sex, his limited experience still experience nonetheless.

And so while it’s very, very easy to fluster or rile him up, he generally isn’t hard and desperate to fuck you at all times. He values you for much more than just your pussy – you’re his dream woman, the person he views as his life-long partner, the one he wants to spend every waking moment with and share every last breath. He’s content to just hold you, to press a soft kiss against your temple and whisper a little confession of love rather than pin you down and fuck you until you’re crying.

(Of course, he won’t say no if you were to beg him to touch you, his face only turning red and his voice cracking a bit as he rushes out a quick yes! Um, yes of course, I’ll uh, be right back… and then leaving the room to take a few deep breaths and whisper to himself that it will be fine, she wants you, you’ll do well, don’t overthink it.)

Asahi is very dependent on what you want, always concerned about your opinion and vote and desires, and so while there are times that those wild hormones do in fact take over and his body starts begging him to slip down that cute pair of panties he bought for you and sit you directly on his cock, to bounce you up and down and use you like some life sized sex toy, watching as your breasts jiggle and your face contorts up into that sexy, perfect little ‘o’, Asahi won’t until you make the move to do so.

(It’s out of respect and lucidity for your consent and state of mind. He already feels guilty enough from having stalked you and stolen you away to live in his modest apartment with him, and forcing himself onto you is absolutely the last thing he wants to do.)

He’s not constantly horny, but it doesn’t take too much to rile him up. A few suggestive words and lingering touches can have him needy and eager to touch and please you in mere seconds – casually tell him over dinner that you feel so empty, Asahi, won’t you come fill me up and watch the way his entire body stiffens, brown eyes meeting your gaze and immediately looking at the table in embarrassment, his face flushed a bright red and his knee bouncing under the table as he mutters out a are – are you sure? I don’t want to leave you hungry – not that you haven’t eaten enough! That’s not what I’m saying, I just – um, I uh… Do you really want that?

(His voice gets a bit vulnerable at the end there, his tone higher and his eyes daring to meet yours again, his mousy brown hair falling around his jaw like a halo.)

Leave a hand on his bicep and gently squeeze, biting your lip and making a show of raking your gaze up and down his body and you’ll see the way he gulps, the sound audible as he shudders a breath, his pants already growing tight and nudging against you.

(You can actually feel the warmth of him through his jeans when he does this – cock warm and ready and throbbing.)

For him, your pleasure is the number one priority, and as such it’s his duty to prioritize what you want when you want it, rather than his own desires. You should be in charge, should be the one calling the shots and telling him that you’re okay with him fucking you like he so desperately wants. You should be the one to tell him that it’s okay each time he nervously and compulsively asks you if it’s okay for him to kiss you or touch your waist or unclasp your bra or moan your name or come -

And even once you’re both naked and touching one another, he views his own orgasms as a background to yours. He mostly just wants you to feel good, and he’s pretty much at your beck and call for whenever you’d like to feel the euphoric high that only an orgasm can bring you, in whatever way you’d like him to get you there. He’s game to finger you, to eat you out, to fuck your cute little pussy that makes him moan and whine every time, even your ass if you bring it up.

Asahi never fails to deliver, and he’ll never, ever complain. He loves to touch you and get you moaning, even if he’s a bit shy and flustered the whole time. It makes him so, so happy to know that he’s the one touching you, that he’s the one making you feel so good and satisfied.

But before you begin feeling any desire to be with him in an intimate setting, Asahi still has urges. He still very, very badly wants to touch you and feel you against his skin, to trace out the map of your body and chart every mole, hair, blemish and roll.

You’re just so fucking perfect to him, and he can’t help but desire you physically when he sees the way your breasts bounce as you try to reach the top shelf in the kitchen (he’s more than happy to come to your rescue and grab the jar off the top shelf, secretly smitten with himself because he’d put it there with the hopes of creating this moment).

He can’t help but want to taste your saliva when he sees you sweating on a particularly hot day, the bead rolling down your temple and following the curve of your cheekbones, his tongue coming out to lick a long stripe along his lips because fuck, he bets you taste sweet.

These urges are still present and strong, but because of his commitment to not force you into anything, Asahi finds that he has to satisfy himself in other ways. That is, it doesn’t necessarily feel good to sneak into the extra bedroom he’d transformed into your personal room, but as soon as he catches a whiff of your scent and sees your sleeping, relaxed form on the mattress, his mouth goes dry and he’s shuffling forward before he even realizes it.

You’re sprawled out on the mattress he’d bought especially for you, the soft t-shirt and short set he'd gotten you sitting haphazardly on your hips and riding up to expose a bit of your stomach. It makes him gulp, his eyebrows drawing in a bit as he slowly, carefully, sits down onto the empty space beside you on the bed.

He can’t stop staring at you – you’re so pretty, and as your lips part slightly and you breath, he can’t help but whimper slightly – he can only imagine how it would feel to kiss you, to feel your lips against his own and feel your tongue brush against his.

Would you bite his lip, tease him with a bit of pain before kissing him harder, pushing your tongue inside and moaning into his mouth because it just feels too good? He hopes so, and it’s not long before he’s imagining all of the other things that mouth of yours could do – he’s sure your kisses would feel like heaven against his chest, lips wrapped around a nipple and sucking lightly, tongue flattening out to run over the pebbled skin again and again and making him shiver.

He’s sure that your lips would feel even better lower, pressed against the juncture of his hip and thigh, moving up and to the side, slowly – so fucking slowly – moving towards where he really needs you, where he’s pulsing and throbbing and leaking so much precum that it almost looks like he’s already reached his high.

He closes his eyes briefly as he imagines the way you’d suckle on his tip, your pretty lips puckered and those eyes of yours staring up at him from between his knees, how you’d pull back to press small kisses and kitten licks against his sensitive skin.

The thought has him groaning lightly, a hand coming down to carefully push his boxers down just a hair, just enough to let his cock spring free, slapping heavily against his lower stomach as he bites his lip. He makes sure to settle the waistband just below his balls, a hand idly moving to grope and squeeze as he continues to stare at you. It feels wrong to be touching himself while so close to you, while you’re totally unaware, but he just can’t help it – he’d been furiously pounding away moments ago in his own bed, eyes squeezed shut and flashes of you playing through his mind, but the knowledge eats at him that you’re only a wall away, your pretty body ripe to ogle and fantasize about and right fucking there…

Guilt weighs heavily in the back of his mind, but as he wraps his fist around his base and slowly pulls up, the heaving breath he lets out has the shame creeping to the back of his mind. It’s so much better with you in his sight – he watches the rise and fall of your chest, your breaths and soft and light, matching the pace of his fist with it.

His toes curl and his lip catches between his teeth, the dull, teasing pleasure from such a slow pace making his head tilt back. He stays like this for what feels like hours – his eyes never moving from your sleeping form, his pace matched to your breathing, just simply breathing in deeply and letting his eyes flutter closed as he exhales, the scent of you you you filling his lungs and making him feel dizzy.

Some forty minutes later, Asahi’s breath is hitching, little whimpers and bitten back moans filling the otherwise quiet air, his fist slowly speeding up out of his control, his orgasm slowly building and mounting, his cock so sensitive and hard and wet –

He comes with a strangled, too-loud I love you, his eyes struggling to stay open as he strokes his way through it, his hips bucking up into his fist and cum landing in ropes along his fingers and wrist. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, he’s chanting under his breath, his breathing uneven and labored as he tries his best to be quiet, terrified to wake you up.

You’re still so ethereal in front of him, looking like an angel as he slows his fist to a stop, his entire body trembling at the aftereffects of his orgasm. He swallows heavily, shaking fingers stained with cum reaching out and nearly, barely brushing against the soft skin of your forearm, clenching his teeth tightly at the contact as it sends one last, final push of pleasure through him, a few final beads of cum oozing from his tip and making him whimper your name.

He doesn’t touch you any more than that, scared to wake you up or cross some invisible line of privacy and consent, but thus starts a pattern. He’ll sneak into your room every week or so, spending far too long simply staring at you, moving to every angle imaginable just to see you, to see all of you, all the while furiously pumping his fist, doing his best to bite back every moan because god, what would you say if you saw him?

(He hopes you wouldn’t stop him, that you’d instead berate him for being so dirty, that you’d reach out and stop his wrist, telling him in that lovely, sweet voice of yours to earn it, Asahi, show me that you deserve to come. And god, the fervor and desperation in his movements as he’d lick and suck between your legs is too good to be embarrassing.)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

As a general rule, Asahi absolutely crumbles the moment any sort of positive comment towards him falls from your lips. He’s never been the most confident man on the face of the planet, and while time and a successful career have helped mitigate that a bit, he’s still a bit doubtful about himself, always just slightly insecure and unable to believe in himself.

And for the most part he doesn’t mind, but he always, always appreciates your support in the area of his lacking – declrataion of you being happy or grateful or pleased with him leave Asahi’s throat feeling tight and his palms clammy. But specifically, Asahi has little to no confidence in himself in the bedroom – and to hear you say anything even remotely positive about his skills in bed gets him hot under the collar, the desire to please you making his fingers itch and his pants feel much too tight.

His lack of confidence between the sheets stems from the belief that he’s sure that he won’t be able to satisfy you, that his touch and love won’t be enough to get you off, that you’ll end up just using your own fingers because he just wasn’t good enough.

He’s convinced that you’ll grow to prefer your own touches and ministrations over his own, that you’ll simply sigh and roll your eyes when he asks you in that timid voice if you’d sit on his face, if you’d let him play with you, if you could just please let him taste you, he’s been thinking about it all day…

It’s never ending cycle of negative thoughts and assumptions, always absolutely sure that things will go the worst possible way once he becomes intimate with you, and honestly you’ll quickly pick up on this.

When he’s hovering over you, brown eyes staring wildly down at you, impossibly wide while his mouth opens and closes like a fish, unsure of what to say or do because you’re finally right in front of him, like he’s been dreaming of for months, you’ll notice the way he’s too stiff to move, his every muscle tense and his eyebrows knitted together so tightly that he almost looks like he’s in pain.

(A few soothing words will have him instantly relaxing, though – run your hands up and down his arms, cooing at him that he’s so handsome, that he looks so good over me Asahi, you’re so pretty, and maybe tell him that you’re so excited, you’ve already made me feel so good baby, and you haven’t even touched me yet and you’ll see the way he visibly perks up, embarrassment written across his face but this sort of shy, boyish joy taking over as he leans down and kisses you. The kiss is too sloppy, too needy, too wet, but it’s the push he needs to finally press himself against you, your slick folds against the sensitive underside of his cock making him hiss into the kiss and his arms nearly give out.)

He’s too nervous to try fingering you or eating you out the first time he’s got you naked in front of him, but he also knows that you need prep before you take him, his girth enough to stretch your walls out to a painful degree if you don’t get some aid.

(Take the initiative and guide his fingers down your body, going slow and making all sorts of keening and sighing noises, until he’s finally pressed up against you. Tell him that his fingers feel good when you’re helping him rub slow circles over your clit. Overdo your hips bucking at the sensation just to give him that extra assurance that he’s doing a good job. Gasp his name as he slips a finger inside and purposefully clench down on him, letting him hear you babble on about how he feels so good and he’s so big and he’s exactly what I’ve been imagining… You’ll see the determined purse of his lips, every ounce of concentration going into making you cry out his name, making you squeal out more praise, getting you to gush on his fingers and tongue and give him what he’s been dreaming of for months – the sight of your pretty body convulsing up in an orgasm, your cunt spasming and clenching down on him like a fucking vice.)

Towards the beginning of your sexual relationship you’ll find that more often than not he’s at a standstill, something that is more than obvious to you, and in moments like these it’s best if you just tell him what to do. When you take off your bra, breasts bared for him as he unabashedly stares, his lips parted and his eyes wide, guide his hand to squeeze at one, sighing at the sensation and telling him that it feels good baby, you can go a little harder if you want, too.

When he’s carefully (and almost tentatively) rubbing your back, giving you a massage and doing his best to relieve your back pain without hurting you, moan out his name and tell him right there, god Asahi you’re so good at this. It’ll leave him blushing and squirming, his cock growing hard and suddenly he’s hearing your moans as moans, seeing the pleased expressions on your face as being expressions of pleasure.

You need to follow his every action up with a bit of praise the first few times you fuck – when he slips a finger or two inside, bite your lip and make a show of gasping, telling him that he feels so good, please Asahi, just like that!

When he’s going down on you for the first time, tangle your fingers through his hair and tell him that he’s doing so well, it feels so – so good Asahi, mmm please don’t stop! And when he fucks you for the first time, gasp sharply and moan, tell him that he’s s-s0 big! Stretches me out so good, ngh –

(Asahi has always seemed gentle to you, even after having kidnapped you – tall, sure, but more afraid of his own shadow than anything. But once you moan that out, that gentle man you’re familiar with is gone – you realize just how strong he really is as his hips crash into yours, your cunt stretched and nearly split open with the sheer power and vigor of his thrusts, each one seeming to reach deeper inside of you, coming faster and faster until your moans at all forced, genuine incoherent nonsense slipping from your lips because god, you’ve never been fucked like this before – this fully, this desperately.)

He loves to know that he’s the one making you feel so good, making you cry out and curl your toes. When you say things like ‘so good Asahi’, or ‘yes, just like that’, he’ll become a blushing, flustered mess, but it’ll only drive him even further in his mission to please you, to get you to come.

After all, in his mind, your pleasure is so much more important than his own, and he’ll give you anything and everything he possibly can to get your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your pussy clamping down around him.

His actions will pick up speed and eagerness, and if you weren’t so fucked out while he’s got his tongue against your clit or his cock stretching you out, you’d be able to practically feel the desperation to get you to orgasm rolling off of him in waves.

He just wants to know that what he’s doing is feeling good, that you’re enjoying him, that you’re loving this wonderful intimate moment as much as he is. He loves your vocalness, and it helps his confidence to hear you so openly praising him and his body.

So tell him, while he’s hovering over you, his cheeks flushed, his hair falling in waves over his shoulders and a few beads of sweat rolling down his temples, how big he feels inside of you, how you’re sure that nobody could fuck you like Asahi can, and he’ll make the cutest little gasp, before he’s thrusting into you even harder, burying his face into your neck and chanting your name over and over.

He loves it.

Breeding

But unlike a lot of men, this kink doesn’t stem exclusively from a sense of possessiveness or ownership over you. (Of course, he very much is possessive over you and hates the idea of another man interacting with you, but still.)

Instead, Asahi’s fascination with the concept of breeding you mostly stems from a genuine desire to knock you up. Asahi craves a domestic life with you; the mere idea of being one big, happy family is something that makes his heart melt, that makes him giddy with excitement and an embarrassed flush spread across the bridge of his nose. There’s so many cute, wholesome things that Asahi wants to do with his future children; family pictures, reading to them before bed, dressing them up in his latest fashion designs, making them go eww! when they see Mommy and Daddy kissing…

And when you step into the picture, this natural desire for children only steps up, increasing astronomically because Asahi genuinely believes that you’re his soulmate, the woman he’ll spend the rest of his life with, and he couldn’t be happier.

And while he’d never force it upon you, he really loves the idea of getting you pregnant and giving you the family that you both deserve. He wants to give you the baby he so desperately wants you to have, to see you softly rubbing your tummy and smiling at him, showing the world exactly who you love, who you choose to be with, who you’ll be spending the rest of your life loving and loyally staying alongside. He thinks he’d be a good father, in his oh so humble opinion, and that he’s completely, absolutely sure that you’d be a wonderful mother, and that together the two of you could have a happy, perfect family.

But of course, Asahi is no pure angel saint – he may not be the most possessive over you, but he can’t deny the wonderful side effects that come with pinning you down and breeding you. That is, there’s something about the fact that it’s his cock emptying load after load inside of you that gets him harder than he’s ever been in his life.

There’s something about the fact that it’s his name you’re moaning out to finish inside of you that makes him hot under the collar, his fingers twitching and his thighs flexing involuntarily because god, you’d sound so fucking good moaning his name.

The idea that it’s because of him that the cute little bump throwing your body off proportion even exists makes him feral, hands eagerly ripping at your clothes and slotting you in his lap, grasping at your hips and physically bouncing you up and down on his cock until he’s groaning your name and stuffing you full again and again and again, leaving you dripping white and smelling his cum, like him.

He’s not the most possessive yandere, sure, but even Asahi can get behind the idea of marking you as his own, of claiming you in the most natural, animalistic way. It satisfies something deep within him – the same thing that urges him to rush forward and keep you from getting too close to the open flames on the stove, the same thing that urges him to buy the pretty flowers on his way home from work and tuck one behind your ear. He’s never given much stock to gender stereotypes, but it just feels right to have you be his sweet little housewife, to be your big, strong protector, to be your provider in more ways than one.

And while bringing you gifts and keeping a roof over your head and warm food in your stomach are certainly ways he loves to provide for you, he’s more than willing to provide for your more carnal needs, too.

He’s more than happy to fill you to the brim with his cum, the sticky white dribbling out of you in big globs that he pressed back in with a thumb, voice shaky as he jokes about having to buy some sort of a plug just to keep everything inside.

(The next morning you find a pretty, purple plug on your bedside table, Asahi looking sheepish as he tells you that it’s the only way to really be sure, you know? Can’t have you wasting anything…)

He’s more than happy to keep his cock inside of you after he’s come, to make sure you’re plugged up, to keep you laying so that you’re hips are elevated, so that his cum will surely reach your womb, so that your body will have no choice but to give him exactly what he wants.

And during sex, the thoughts racing through Asahi’s head absolutely reinfornce this – as his high approaches, there’s a mantra repeating over and over in his head to come inside her, fuck a baby into her, get her pregnant so she’ll never leave you.

His hips will speed up, the sound absolutely obsene as he throws your legs over his shoulders, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he watches your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts, the mental image of you swollen and round and so fucking fertile leaving his head spinning and oh fuck fuck fuck –

He’s coming with a whine of your name, burying his face into your neck and grasping tightly onto your breast, chanting your name under his breath and pressing himself just a bit deeper inside, anything to try and increase the chances of it taking.

The idea of knocking you up clouds his senses as his hips plow into you, the sensation so overwhelming that he’s nearly crying, but fat tears welling up and streaming down his face to land on your own while he clutches onto your hand, the emotional end of realizing that he might get you pregnant hitting him at full speed and making him dizzy with desire and love.

He’ll oftentimes whisper sweet nothings about how beautiful you’ll look, how much he wants to give you children, how deeply he wants to come inside while his hips are pounding away, practically ramming into your cervix with each powerful, passionate thrust.

He loves the idea of having a baby with you, and it’s just an added bonus that giving it to you feels so good.

Size kink

No matter your size, Asahi will be taller, stronger, bigger.

He’s six feet tall, muscular, and despite his timid disposition, he’s very much a force to be reckoned with. Despite transitioning to a career less focused on physical prowess, Asahi largely retained his physique.

He’s a little softer now, the muscles covered by a small layer of fat, but he’s still got definition lining every inch of his body, the short-sleeved t-shirts he wears doing very little to hide the outline of his biceps. When his shirt rides up as he pulls his hair back into its signature bun, it’s impossible to miss the way he seems to tower over everything and everything, his presence something commanding the room, making everyone else just feel so small.

And while none of it is on purpose, Asahi slowly notices with time just how pronounced this difference is.

He sees it in the way that your palms compare as he timidly snake his hand against yours, swallowing heavily and avoiding eye contact because god, not only are your hands soft and warm, they’re practically engulfed by his, the sight making something scratch at the back of his throat.

He sees it in the way that your arms just barely wrap around his torso when you hug him, your fingers lacing together. (Of course, this took him a very long time to notice – he was too flustered by the fact that you’re hugging him to really notice any details, and even then he’d been too preoccupied by the feeling of your clothed breasts pressing against his chest, willing everything in himself to not get hard, to not let the blood rush to his cock as he imagines the way your legs would feel wrapped around his waist.)

As time passes, Asahi discovers that not only is he noticing these things, but there’s something about the sight that gets him hot under the collar, his breathing more strained than usual and his voice coming out a bit crackly.

And really, this kink stems from his protectiveness of you and his need to feel like your savior, but there’s just something about having you underneath him, seeing how small your body is in comparison to his own that really gets to him.

The idea of you being a fraction of his size, of your body being so much cuter, tinier, and softer than his own is something that makes Asahi blush, the red spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down to his collarbone, the idea that you’re such opposites yet so perfect for one another simultaneously warming his heart and begging him to fuck you because he just loves you so much.

And while your size difference is something that Asahi has always rationally known about, it’s so much different to actually see it, to be physically forced to recognize that he’s just so big compared to you.

When you’re naked below him, looking up at him with those vulnerable, beautiful eyes while you clutch the pillow underneath your head and shakily swallow, Asahi is hit with the sudden realization that you so clearly need him, need his help to do everything, and that includes turning you into a panting, drooling mess with his fingers, tongue and cock.

He loves the foreign surge of dominance he feels, how powerful and manly it makes him feel to see you under him, looking up at him like that, your lips swollen and puffy from kissing and biting them, from enjoying the pleasure he’s so focused on delivering to you.

He loves watching you take his cock; how it stretches you out to the point where you’re tensed up, fisting the sheets and telling him to slow down because you need time to adjust to his massive length.

(Of course, Asahi immediately stops, panic eating away at him because what if he hurt you? There’s not a sadistic bone in his body, and when you have to tell him things like that it only reminds him how easily he gets lost in you, how quickly he succumbs to the carnal urge to just fuck you so hard that you’re screaming his name and showing everyone exactly who owns the tight little pussy he’s fucking and filling with his cum.)

He loves to intertwine his fingers with yours while he thrusts into you, marveling at how his fingers dwarf your own while his cock stretches you out so fully, so completely that it’s almost visible against the skin of your navel.

He’ll purposefully fuck you in positions that really showcase this difference in size, too – of course his favorite is missionary, getting to look at you while he slowly rolls his hips into yours, but there’s something exquisite about folding you into a mating press, too. The way he’s strong enough to practically force your ankles up to your ears, his entire body hovering over yours as he pounds into you, watching the way you seize up because the angle is just so fucking deep.

It’s not his favorite, but he’ll fuck you from behind, the position slowly morphing from doggy into prone bone as he becomes more and more desperate for you, soon laying almost completely on top of you while his hips stutter into yours, the sensation of warm cum flooding you and the feeling of Asahi in every inch of your space making your head spin.

Even non-penetrative positions have this effect on him – watching you settle between his legs and eagerly jerk him off gets him clutching onto the nearest surface, the sight of your fingers, so small and sweet and pretty compared to his own, making his knees feel weak because fuck you’re so delicate compared to him.

And god, your mouth? It’s over for him the moment that your lips wrap around his tip, the sight of a much-too-big cock forcing its way down your throat threatening to bring him to orgasm much, much too soon.

Every part of him is bigger, and he just loves how obvious his muscles and height make it that he’s the protector in the relationship, that he’s the one providing for you, keeping you safe, keeping you happy.

Because after all, he’d do anything to keep you happy.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Hair pulling

Quite honestly, Asahi’s not sure where this kink came from. His scalp has always been a bit sensitive, his hair silky and in remarkably good shape for little he brushes it, for how poorly he cares for it. And while he’s kept it long for all of his adult life, he’s still just the slightest bit insecure about being a man with long hair – the lingering stares of others making him slump his shoulders a bit, wishing they’d stop staring.

And so, he’s never really viewed his hair as something sexual – no girl has ever really pulled it, and on the rare occasions when he’s touched himself, a hand never manages to travel north of his chest.

And even on the more practical side of things, he’s never really been one for pain, for enjoying the stinging sensation of sharpness against his skin, of feeling the dull throb of a bruise being pressed on. He’s never really found it to be sexy, and by extension he’s never bothered to explore hair pulling.

But then he becomes intimate with you and as he’s kissing you, tongue tracing the shape of your teeth and moaning into your mouth he feels it –

Your nails scraping against his scalp, digging in and grabbing a fistful of hair, pulling and tugging.

He actually moans, the sound high and whiny and so girly it nearly makes him cry, but he can’t help but beg you to do it again, a hand coming up to secure your place against his scalp.

There’s just something about the your fingers tunnel into his hair, gripping the brown locks between your nimble fingers while his tongue works fast, desperate circles against your clit, his fingers curling and arching just the way you told him to. Every tug at his hair drives him to work harder, to suck harder and lick faster because he just wants to please you, and the way you’re mixing pain with pleasure is making his hips buck against the mattress, unable to control himself as he whines against your cunt.

When your nails lightly scrape against his scalp, Asahi can’t help but close his eyes and moan, the vibrations going straight up your spine as he doubles his efforts, wanting to get you to come to an almost unhealthy degree.

And yet, as your hands pull harder, coaxing him into fingerfucking you harder, moving in the specific motion against your clit he knows you love, all you can do is throw your hair back and moan, little gasps of oh Asahi, oh please – I’m so close, don’t stop!

There’s something about the light touch of pain that makes him shiver, that makes the excitement stand up at the back of his neck, his eyes growing dilated and his efforts even more vigorous because fuck, you deserve to come, and by god is Asahi going to be the man to do it.

It’s become a staple of him giving you head – you always burrow your fingers into the loose, flowing brown locks, pulling him ever closer to your sopping cunt, something Asahi couldn’t be happier about.

And if you really want to leave him a flustered, panting mess, lightly tug at his hair without any warning in a non-sexual context – reach over during breakfast and give a light tug and you’ll see in real time as his face turns red, gaping like a fish and letting a hand drop his fork and wander down to his crotch, the table covering his motions. (Though the sound of a zipper slowly undoing is hardly difficult to identify, nor is the way the slick, clicking noises echo through the room as he shakily tells you to f-finish your breakfast…)

Lingerie

Perhaps it’s a result of his heightened attention paid to fashion, or perhaps it’s just Asahi’s nature, but as his infatuation with you develops, so too does his desire to see you all dressed up for him.

He doesn’t view you as a doll, per se, but Asahi finds that one of his guiltiest pleasures is to put you in clothing he designs specifically for you – pretty colors and cuts he thinks accentuate your curves, always sucking in a sharp breath and muttering out this awed, overtly genuine wow that makes you too embarrassed to respond.

And it’s sweet, more than anything, because the dresses and outfits he creates for you really are flattering – except that as your sexual relationship develops, he starts taking certain liberties, his creations becoming more and more risqué.

The lingerie he designs for you is tasteful, at least – it’s flattering as well, always in shades of pinks, reds, and white to enhance your natural coloring, his fingers always trembling when he helps you put them on, catching a bit of lace between his thumb and index finger and sighing out your name in a tone much too airy to be normal.

You look absolutely stunning – and he finds that fucking you with the lingerie still decorating your body only makes his kisses more heartfelt, longer, more needy because you’re just so damn pretty all dressed up and practically wrapped up like a gift for him.

But really, where’s Asahi’s true lingerie kink lies is not in you wearing it, but rather in him wearing it.

It’s beyond embarrassing to him and something that would take a long time for him to admit, but there’s a certain part of him that would actually like to try on a few of the lingerie sets he sees in magazines, tv and social media. Some of them are just so fucking pretty, soft pastels with lots of lace and ruffles, things that scream feminine and soft, pretty and fuckable.

And while Asahi knows he’s supposed to be the ‘man’ in the relationship, it’s a guilty pleasure that he just can’t shake – and so, when you one day catch him staring at an ad for a brand new baby blue two piece set on his phone, you ask him if he’s going to get it, cocking a brow at him because it’s rare for him to ever buy you lingerie sets rather than make them himself.

(He’d told you once that he can fit them to your body better than any manufacturer can. And what he hadn’t told you is that there’s a certain allure to knowing that you’re wearing something that he made you, not some unknown, random worker with no appreciation for you or your beauty.)

Immediately Asahi is scrambling to cover it up, nervously chuckling and denying your words, but when it shows up the next day and Asahi mumbles if you’d be willing to um, give me an opinion about something, you’re intrigued. And as you open the door to reveal him, familiar brown eyes are unable to meet your own gaze, his body language clearly nervous at your scrutiny.

But really, the sight of the six foot tall, burly man clad in the soft material hugging his body and bringing out the natural tan color of his skin leaves you oddly breathless, the sight strangely bizarre and erotic.

The bra cups are a bit loose, though you can still see his pretty, pink nipples hard as a rock underneath the sheer material. The bra may be loose, but the pair of lacy, red panties most certainly are not – his cock threatens to burst out of it at any moment, his balls hanging on by a thread to stay inside of the dainty fabric.

And when you take a few steps forward, looking at him with wide eyes, he feels his heart drop when you say oh Asahi, you’re so beautiful.

(If you look closely enough, you can see his balls visibly clench at the compliment, the skin angry and red at the tightness of the panties.)

So while it’s not the manliest thing, Asahi can’t deny that it makes him feel good, and you’re always so touchy and sweet when he’s wearing it.

And so when he’s in more of a submissive mood, wanting you to take care of him, dote on him, love him and show him that you’re just as desperate and hopelessly in love as he is, he throws it on and sits patiently on the bed, waiting with baited breath for you to pull the strap out and make him feel like a good little boy.

(And god his moans are pretty, his little gasps and whines when you toy with the fabric making you power-hungry, the sight of his cute little hole clenching as you toy with him, bent over and panties pushed to the side is the stuff of fantasies – he’s just so fucking obedient when he’s all dressed up for you.)

BIGGEST FANTASY:

Going hand in hand with his breeding kink and his want of starting a family with you, Asahi has a few guilty pleasures when it comes to the idea of a pregnant you.

He just can’t help it – his biggest domestic fantasy is having a family with you, and every time he sees a pregnant woman out and about something inside of him just snaps, the flood of images of you all knocked up making his knees nearly buckle.

(Of course, in these images you’re sometimes clothes and sometimes not – the clothes, when included, are always too small, making your breasts look even bigger and your stomach ever rounder.)

Something about the roundness of your body, how your curves are enhanced, how you look so fucking fertile really gets to him, especially with how your breasts begin to swell.

Something about watching as your nipples begin to darken, your areolas get larger, and the way the flesh begins to hang heavier, looking so full and ready to be emptied really gets to him, sparking some odd, primal instinct in him that he didn’t even know he had.

He’s staring constantly, brown eyes darting to the way his t-shirts are stretched taut against your belly bump and engorged breasts, how you look so perfect and domestic and like a real mother.

He’ll be much too shy to say anything, too nervous at your rejection of the fantasy he holds close to his heart, but he really wants nothing more than to just latch onto a leaking, aching nipple, wrap his lights tightly around it, circle his tongue over the sensitive skin, and suck.

He wants to taste you; feel the white liquid against his tongue, nurse off of you in such a human, natural way.

He almost feels as if it’s his reward - he put the baby inside of you that’s causing you to produce, he’s the one heading to work everyday, making money to bring back to you and your slowly growing family.

He’s the one that spent hours between your legs, fingering your pretty cunt and giving you load after load after load of hot, potent cum.

He’s your protector, and it’s his deepest fantasy to be rewarded for all his hard work with your breastmilk. He’ll never, ever admit it, but when he fondles your breasts and nibbles at them, sucking at them with a vigor you’ve never experienced before, those are the thoughts racing through his mind.

“I’m home!” Asahi calls, closing the front door and letting out a small, satisfied sigh at the sight of his little home. Touches of your style are everywhere - the couch has your favorite color throw pillows, your favorite art is on the walls, pictures of the two of you hanging in frames on the shelf above the fireplace on the far side of the living room. It makes him smile, something warm and fuzzy settling in his chest.

He slips his shoes off, shrugging off his coat and venturing further into the house. Normally you’d be in the kitchen by now, preparing dinner and wanting to have a nice meal while the two of you discussed your days, telling one another how much you missed the other. When he doesn’t find you in the kitchen, his brow arches and he calls your name once more, a small pang of panic bolting through him at the thought of you not responding.

“Oh! You’re home!” He hears you exclaim from behind him, and heaves out a small sigh of relief. He turns around with a soft smile on his face, but that smile vanishes as soon as he takes in your appearance.

You’re wearing one of his old tee shirts, the material a bit light and comfortable, and a pair of your favorite panties peeking out from under the hem. You look so fucking pretty that it takes him a moment to register your words, brown eyes dilating and focusing on the sight of you in his shirt, the smooth expanse of your thighs, the smile on your face that gets his knees weak. But as he takes in the full sight of you, something else catches his eye – immediately saliva is pooling against his tongue, his fingers twitching and his tongue flicking out to lick over his lips.

Two small, uneven pools of wet form right over the swell of your breasts, staining the fabric a darker shade and making his mouth water slightly. The sight of your chest straining heavily against the shirt has him taking a step forward hastily, aching to get closer and closer.

You notice his staring, and you scratch the back of your neck a bit awkwardly. “Welcome home, love. Sorry, I was just about to go start pumping but the laundry had me busy. I lost track of time.”

He just nods, not able to take his gaze away from you. You blink, before quirking the corner of your lips up. Although your husband had never asked, you’d noticed his affinity for your chest increasing tremendously after you’d begun lactating - he thought he was smooth when he’d oh so innocently walk in on you with your pump, watching your milk fill up the bottle, but you knew better. The fixation in his eyes as he stared was telling, the way he’d play with his hands and fingers, struggling to keep eye contact with you making it oh so apparent. And so, with a confidence that only he could allow you to develop over the years, you realize that maybe it was alright that you hadn’t started dinner quite yet.

You bite your lip and slowly walk up to him, until you’re close enough to hear the slight wheeze in his breaths. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob as his eyes dart between your face and your breasts, trying to decide where to look. You almost laugh. “Asahi...I have an idea, if you’d be willing to try it out.”

His gaze meets yours with a bit of reluctance, and his brows tighten. “S-sure! What did you have in mind?”

You smile, leaning up on your tippy toes and placing a kiss against his cheek. “Well, since I haven’t started dinner yet, and I didn’t get to start pumping, and you’ve been gone all day, working hard and making me proud, I think you deserve a little reward.”

Asahi visibly flushed at this, and his eyes widened a bit. “A reward? What do you mean?”

You bite your lip, reaching out to take one of his large hands into your own, before carefully placing it over one of your breasts. He gasps sharply, his entire body tensing as he feels the wetness underneath his palm. You look up at him, doing your best to give him as seductive and sultry a look as you can muster.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe I could give you a little treat? As a thank you for everything that you do for me. It’s been waiting all day, and I’m so, so full… would you like that? Do you want a little snack as a reward?” You ask, watching his reaction carefully. His brown eyes are so warm, so genuinely shocked, and for a second you almost wonder if he’ll say no, or push you away. But before you can take back your words, he’s eagerly nodding, walking you backwards into the living room and settling you down into a sitting position on the couch. He crouches below you, on his knees in between your legs, still in the nice clothes he’d worn to work today. You grab the hem of your shirt, carefully lifting it over you and throwing it to some unknown part of the room. The cold air hits you, and you feel your nipples harden and the skin of your breasts tighten up.

Asahi lets out a mix between a moan and a whimper at the sight of your bare chest, staring in awe with his mouth open. When you see him not moving, you carefully reach your hands up, cupping your breasts and gently squeezing, causing a small stream of milk to leak out of each nipple.

“Darling, don’t you want your reward?” You ask, squeezing extra hard, sending a spurt of liquid out, his eyes following the arc as he licks his lips.

Asahi gulps, a low growl escaping him as he gently pulls your hands away, instead latching his mouth around a nipple and sucking -

You sigh softly, the feeling of his lips applying pressure and his tongue swiping over your nipple much more erotic than you had been expecting. His lips work against you, tongue swirling against your sensitive areolas as his cheeks hollow. He moans against you, the taste of you overwhelming his senses and setting his body alight with pleasure. He can feel his pants growing uncomfortably tight, but he just sucks harder, listening to your coos and cries above him.

His hand reaches out to cup your other breast, squeezing a bit more firmly and watching the milk leak, before he leans back, releasing the nipple from his mouth with a popping sound, and squeezes once more, harshly, watching as a stream of milk arcs through the air and directly into his parted, awaiting mouth. You both moan, and he swallows. He rubs his fingers over your nipples, and looks up at you, licking his lips.

“I think it’s time you showed me just how good you taste down here, too.” He says, grinding his clothed erection against your crotch. You moan, nodding your head and tangling your fingers into his hair, watching his eyes flutter closed at the sensation.

And, thirty minutes later as he’s pulling out of you, hissing slightly at the overstimulation, Asahi can only pant, a hand once again coming up to lightly squeeze at your breast, the kiss he gives you heated enough to have you melting against the mattress, too relaxed to even notice the way he pushes himself back in again, gasping into your mouth and pushing through the overstimulation because he needs this, needs you.

After all, he can never get enough of you.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere asahi #yandere asahi azumane #haikyuu smut #_haikyuu #_asahi azumane #_lee's profiles

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jacaerysgf · 9 hours

Text

just a little 1k wc smutty drabble of jacaerys eating good, enjoy 😊

You wish you hadn't seen it. What they had been doing, for it is had been plaguing your mind all day. You try to shake off the burning desire in your stomach as you recall the events.

You can’t, for even while you're kissing your husband you are thinking about it. He pulls away from you, a small string of saliva connects the two of you and as he stares at you with hearts in his eyes. “Is something wrong dear?”

You and Jacaerys have always had a very standard time in the bedroom. It is always very pleasurable for you, though you now know that is not the norm after some very shocking and concerning conversations with the other ladies in court, and this leaves you feeling guilty.

Guilty for wanting more of him, wanting him to consume you, for wanting him to give you more when he has already been selfish enough.

“It is nothing dear.” You attempt to push your lips against his once more but he holds your shoulders firmly in place, looking at you worriedly. “You are not yourself. If you are not up for it tonight we do not have to bed, i will not force myself on you.”

This has your heart aching as you look down. He is always so kind and so sweet to you. Which makes you feel like a dirty animal for the thoughts you are thinking.

“I do want to, so badly dear its just,,,” You trail off , turning your head the other way. He is quick to grab your chin and tilt your head back up to look at him. “What is it? If it is something i can do for you i will do it.”

You know he can do it. Or at least you hope he can.

“I had been walking around and i stumbled upon something,” You hesitate, unable to believe the words that are about to drip out of your mouth. “they were a squire and a maid, in the wine cellar, he had he propped up on one of the boxes, he seemed to be giving her pleasure but,” “but what?” Jacaerys voice is shaky, his hands rattle on your skin, he is desperate to hear your words, his breath fans on your skin in a rapid rhythm.

“But his head was between her legs. It is sinful and it is scandalous but i have never seen or heard anything like that before. It had engraved itself in my mind and i cannot stop thinking about ti, the blissful look on her face, not that you do not give me pleasure of course but this looked like it was different. Im sorry i know it is wrong to think about-” You gasp as his lips press heavily against yours.

He grips your jaw with a fury as he kisses you like he never has before. He pulls away from you and presses your foreheads together as you catch your breath. “You wish for me to do that to you my sweet? i will i will do it, gods i have been thinking about this for so long. You let out a squeal as he lightly pushes you to fall onto your back.

“Truly? Then why have you never brought this up before?” He looks embarrassed but he cannot stop himself from tugging up your nightgown to pool around your hips and reveal you bare to him. “It is quite, carnal, i suppose theres no better word for it. I did not think i lady like you would be interested.”

He presses a kiss against your stomach before he looks up at you once more. Its breathtaking to see him at an angle like this, simply staring up at you, you try to catch your breath but you are unable to as he begins to trail kisses down your stomach before stopping right where you want him and moving instead to grab your legs and place them on either sides of his shoulders.

You should feel humiliated, shame should be coursing through your veins but the way jacaerys has an awestruck look as he admires you and the way his hands softly caress your skin is enough to quench any worries and fears you have.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, despite the fact that it had been your idea. “Yes.” There is not way you can stop your desire, certainly not with how desperate he seems, like he is dying to be able to put his head between your legs.

His face disappears from your view and you feel him kiss around your thighs. You whine as he continues to simply brush around where you want him and he chuckled, “i’m sorry i will not tease you.”

You wanted to say something back to him but you suddenly jump and a shiver runs down your spine as you feel his hot wet tongue push past your folds.

You harshly grip the top of his head as he hims content, the vibration adding another level of pleasure. You get why the woman seemed to pleased, this was on another plane of ecstasy.

Your head thrown back as he continues to lap against you, the sounds in the room leave your skin feeling hot. You continue to revel in the feeling of him licking at you, drinking up every drop you let out until you also feel something harder press against you. His nose.

You have no clue how he’s even breathing. But you cannot find it in you to care as you find your hips moving on their own, rubbing against his face, hitting his tongue and his nose so perfectly it has you seeing stars.

“Keep doing that please.” He pulls away for a quick second to speak before he is right back to it. You listen, continuing to rut yourself again his face, unable to contain your moans. You’re sure everyone in the damn keep could hear you but you don’t care.

You do notice something curious, he is rutting himself against the bed, the moans he pours into you adds to your pleasure. Was he surely so pleased by this? by bringing you pleasure he had no other choice than to try and quench his own hunger by rutting himself against your sheets like a dog?

You have no time to dwell on it as he brings one of his hands to your clit, taking it in his fingers and rubbing it around. You’re thrown into a whirlwind of pleasure like you couldn't believe. You're sure this is what heaven must feel like.

His hand slides up your chest and you lock your fingers with his as you feel yourself drawing closer and closer to your release. It is like your souls locking together. He grips you so tightly and you grip his back as your face contorts in pleasure as you burst.

You continue to wither in pleasure as he laps up every single drop of essence you spill out in your release. He sits up and stares at you with wide eyes, his usual brown eyes lost in a storm of black, pleasure seeping into his soul.

You can see the shine gloss all over his face, his nose, his jaw, his chin, his lips and his lip especially are noticeable as you can see they are redder and bigger. You watch as he licks his lips and grins at you. “That is so much better than i could have ever dreamed of.”

You have to agree

<3 went a little crazy and wrote this yesterday when i was freaking out of jace <3

Perm Jacaerys taglist

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife @jacesvelaryons

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faithst · 3 days

Text

unspoken confessions

⊹˚.♡ syn gyuvin, secretly in love with his affectionate childhood friend, is tormented by his feelings. when an unexpected conversation forces him to confess, he fears it will shatter their bond.

⊹˚.♡ genre gyuvin x gn!reader, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, highschool setting, gyuvin has a big fat crush on reader (ft. ricky)

⊹˚.♡ wc 0.8k

masterlist

Gyuvin was dizzy, his head spinning with thoughts of you. Anyone could see the massive imaginary arrow Cupid had struck through his heart. Anyone and everyone, except you, of course! He was definitely guilty of wanting a childhood friends-to-lovers trope to happen, but he was also afraid of ruining the friendship.

Despite trying to shove these feelings to the back of his heart, he couldn't help but giggle at the sight of your charming smile—he swore he could see sparkles emit from you every time you smiled at him. He couldn't help the pink hue that coloured his cheeks and ears whenever he thought about you, or the way your words went in one ear and out the other because he was too focused on you.

Gyuvin tried really hard to push these growing feelings away every year, but you were a problem. He thought you were joking—"They’re just a really affectionate person!" he would say to everyone who questioned your relationship. From the random finger-holding that turned into fully interlocked hands because your hands were "cold," to the soft, warm hugs followed by "You’re the best!" after he agreed to one of your little dumb ideas. And lastly, the so-called platonic cheek kisses every time Gyuvin walks you to your classroom or home—he’d have those moments recorded and looping in his brain for hours on end.

"Gyuvin..? Gyuvin!" His imagination was cut short by Ricky, who was currently trying to explain a topic. "What are you thinking about—no, don’t tell me." Gyuvin smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"Why don’t you say something to them?" Ricky asked, noticing the blood rushing to Gyuvin's cheeks. "That just won’t do," Gyuvin sighed. "How come?" Ricky paused his writing to glance up. "Risky," Gyuvin simply answered, leaning back in his chair and puffing up his cheeks. He knew that dissatisfied look on Ricky’s face too well.

Gyuvin stood up and began pacing back and forth, making all sorts of facial expressions that showed he was deep in thought. "There’s absolutely no way they like me in that way," he finally spouted out, making Ricky snicker.

"Riiight..." Ricky dragged the word out. "The hand-holding and ‘platonic’ kisses don’t mean anything?"

"Their hand gets cold easily and it’s a form of gratitude!" Gyuvin remarked, still pacing around the empty classroom. "Everything about them might be too much for me," he confessed. Ricky was confused, question marks practically appearing over his head as Gyuvin noticed.

"I think I’ll get severe heart palpitations from them... Their hands are so soft, there’s not a callus in sight. I want to melt into their arms and become a puddle forever. And their lips..." He now pressed his back against the wall and slowly slid to the ground, hands covering his face. "I’m so done for."

Luckily for him, you walked in at that exact moment, confused to see him on the floor all stressed out. "Gyuvin? What happened?" you asked, eyebrow raised.

Gyuvin immediately stood up and smiled, as if nothing had happened. "Oh, it’s nothing! Let’s go," he assured, awkwardly smiling to hide the side-glare he shot at Ricky. You weren’t convinced, but you ignored it, linking your arm with his, making his heartbeat quicken.

As you both walked home, random topics flew out of your mouths: school, friends, food. Quite literally anything. "Some of my friends asked if we were dating," you spoke up, smiling at the thought, which made Gyuvin stop in his tracks. "I said no, and they said that we should." There was a small pink hue on your cheeks that anyone else would’ve noticed, but Gyuvin was stuck in his own mind, trying to find the right words.

"Your friends are right," he spouted out, clearly not having thought it through. Now, you were the one stuck; did you hear it right?

Gyuvin realized what he said. "I—I mean, maybe we should..." His face turned bright red as his hands moved frantically, fiddling with his fingers. "Or maybe we shouldn’t, who knows!" he awkwardly laughed, continuing to walk ahead of you, with you still frozen in place. He was mentally preparing himself for how he’d 'ruined' the friendship and couldn’t wait to go home and drown in his own pool of embarrassment.

"We should," you spoke out, walking to match his pace.

Gyuvin didn’t hear you properly. "Yeah, it’s a bad idea rig—huh?" He realised what you said. You giggled, intertwining your fingers with his. This time, it felt different—foreign and tingly. Gyuvin’s heart raced as he looked at you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Really?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Really," you confirmed, squeezing his hand gently.

Gyuvin’s smile grew wider, and he pulled you into a hug, holding you close. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that perfect moment. He had you, and that was all he needed.

@ faithst 24’

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giamee · 3 days

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CHAPTER XII! encore

<- prev masterlist next ->

GOING SHOPPING WAS A VERY WELCOME DISTRACTION from everything. leaving the guys after getting breakfast together, taking a bus into the busier marketplace, and perusing all the different items that mondstadt had to offer, you and layla were feeling properly satisfied.

in particular, the clothing stores had caught you and layla's eyes. the fashion was so different to sumeru's and you couldn't help but want to find some dresses and other clothes similar to what you saw the inhabitants of mondstadt wearing as they went about daily life.

layla knew a few specific brands- heard from a friend of a friend- that she dragged you along to, and you walked down the aisles together, scanning the racks of clothing. layla pauses to inspect a dress, a pretty blue one that would really complement her hair, before she turned to you conspiratorily.

"so, i knew that i said that we should ignore last night, but you and cyno, huh?"

you got flustered, gaze averting to another dress, a thick material that you thought would melt off of you during a sumeru summer.

"oh it's... yaknow."

"it didn't look like a yakno. looked a lot friendlier than that."

"you know how it is, layla. i mean, we broke up."

"and exes can't hook up?"

you looked up at her, shocked. she's smirking to herself, glancing at the dress' pricetag before grimacing and releasing it from her grip.

"i mean, hot girl summer, right?"

"and where was this energy when you were telling me to be careful, hm?" the girl simply shrugged, grinning at you elfishly.

"eh, fuck it. besides, i see the way you two look at each other. it's obvious that you two aren't over it."

"we are." your voice is quieter now, a fact that doesn't go unmissed by your friend.

"then maybe that's a conversation to have between you and him, yeah?" as if waiting for a cue, you and layla's phones both chimed, and you saw messages from the trip groupchat, as well as some unread ones from your inazuma friends. you'd fill them in later.

the place in question was a restaurant called the good hunter, one that albedo insisted was extremely popular with the locals. his recommendation proved to be right, too, judging by how busy it was around lunchtime. it was absolutely packed, the aroma of food making your mouth water as soon as you stepped in. you hadn't even realised just how hungry you were, but this was much appreciated.

albedo himself was nice enough, but there was something about him that reminded you a little too much of alhaitham for you liking. as for the man himself, he had arrived late, ending up wedged in one of the only seats left- right next to you.

the sheer volume of people talking in such a small place made this bustling restaurant... surprisingly private. albedo was seated at the other end of the table, telling your friends some story along with the help of kaveh's dramatic reenactment, and you could barely hear what the pair of them were saying.

and with everyone else's attention elsewhere, it was easy for alhaitham to scoot closer to you, leaning down so that his face is level with yours.

you don't pull away, but you eye the man warily. you never really knew what to expect with him, after all. his words and his actions told two different stories.

"so, you're getting back with cyno?"

you're glad that you weren't eating, otherwise you would have coughed everything out upon hearing that. you choke on your water, though, and you hate that alhaitham instinctively pats your back as you recover. his palms are warm against your bare skin, and you wish that you hadn't worn something that left you so exposed. you hated the fact that you found his touch soothing even more.

"who told you that?" you rasp out after finally catching your breath. his fingers linger against you a touch too long, and there's a flash of something akin to... remorse? in his eyes as he peels his hand away from your back. it feels cold without his touch.

"were you not... never mind then." you look at him, confused now. all of the mixed messages that he was throwing you in the past couple days was making your head spin.

"why the sudden interest? i thought you didn't like me." he looks confused now, more than anything, and in any other circumstance you would laugh at the way he gaped at you. it's a long few seconds before his head falls forward, his arms uncrossing to let his fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose oh-so delicately.

"i said to move on because i didn't want you or cyno to get hurt again."

"...oh."

"yes, oh."

"and not because you didn't like me?"

"...quite the opposite." alhaitham peeks up at you now, his expression uncertain, and you feel like you can finally read him. he sounded a lot softer now, the drone of everyone else in this restaurant fading away, and it felt like just the two of you again.

"then... why did you act like that yesterday?" his face scrunched up, a frown forming at your question.

"i don't know." disbelief was an emotion that you were beginning to strongly associate with alhaitham. "i thought that it wouldn't be right to tell you."

"but that didn't stop you from kissing me." he paused, looking away bashfully, before he meets your eyes again.

"that was an oversight on my part. it shouldn't have happened." the urge to rip your hair out was beginning to grow. instead, you laughed lowly, focusing your attention to the food on your plate. you really weren't hungry, but anything was better than looking at him right now.

"i'm sorry, y/n." you pick at the food on your plate with your fork, watching as it drops back down with a plop. "this won't end well, you'll both get your hearts broken again." you couldn't help but laugh at the stupidity of this entire situation.

"and what about yours, alhaitham? don't act like you're doing me such a favour by being a pussy." you spit out that last word with more venom than was probably necessary, if the way that alhaitham flinched away was any indicator. his mouth opened, and you watched him flounder for a little, but it was cut short by nilou calling your name from across the table.

you plaster what you hope is a convincing smile on your face, idly responding and ignoring the rising tide of emotions within you in favour of tuning in to the recollection of akademiya stories that your friends were relaying.

the rest of your time in the restaurant, greeting and saying goodbye to albedo, walking back to the hostel with your friends, felt like you were in some third person mode, the overbearing weight of alhaitham's inadverted confession leaving you well and truly stunned.

what now? he likes you but he's made it more than clear that he won't do anything about it. you're stuck between a rock and a hard place.

you find yourself staring down your reflection in the bathroom, once again having your inner thoughts consumed by the infuriating gray-haired man.

and like a severe case of deja vu, cyno slips into the bathroom the same time as you, his hip bumping against yours as he sidles up next to you.

"hey."

"hi." your voices sounds flat even to your ears, but cyno merely smiles at your greeting. he takes his precious moments to get his toothbrush, squeeze out some toothpaste onto it, before he turns to you- ever so casual, deliberately light tone.

"i don't have a movie to watch, but... would you want to sleep in my bed tonight?" you lock eyes with him through the mirror, those amber eyes boring into you, imploring you for an answer. cyno had always been good at that- wrangling some answer out of you that you didn't even know was there.

it's quiet, save for the water running from the tap as he wers his brush. it gives you time to think. temptation was not an ugly man- he had a sweet smile and a promise of familiarity, and you decided that that's what you needed right now.

"yeah, i'll get in after you." cyno beams, eyes crinkling with the intensity, and that's all that needs to be said for the rest of your time shared in the bathroom.

and then he's gone again, so quick that you have to reassure yourself that he was ever there at all, and you repeat the steps that he went through, washing your face, before turning to the door leading to all of the beds.

you really needed to update your friends about this. but it could wait.

✦ ⠂⠂୨୧ trivia :: despite majoring in chemistry and not architecture, albedo was able to increase kaveh's grades to solid a's while tutoring him

✦ ⠂⠂୨୧ gia's notes :: uhm. i don't have anything to yap about for once lol. my stomach hurts. ooh i know what to say cyno fuckers lovers yall are in for a TREAT next chapter 🙈 now give me one billion gajillion notes or i wont post it 🔫 also the haitham drama is over (?) now yay!!! he's emotionally constipated and rationalises his feelings away ok guys everybody makes mistakes 😞

✦ ⠂⠂୨୧ taglist :: @makimakimi @aeongiies @sukunasrealgf @ssoliva @sakiimeo @eggn0gcookie @yxcade @fiona782 @heartswonder @eunchaeluvr @clumsyphuq @pinksodacan @aelxr @themusingsofmany @obervation-subject-753 @kittycasie @aimno256 @maxineshearts @mafuyuslover @meigalaxy @mintydump @v4lerixxq @artwitchh @geo-hew-hew @imkaaayy @c4tsfr0mh3ll @kokoscutie @erzarq @eu-la @ddiluc @ichikaisflowers @rahhhmen @esmetrees @rain-and-a-nice-nap @g8mmaaa @wuthering-seas

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dailymanners · 1 day

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"Talking over people can be a hard habit to break, particularly if it’s part of your common methods of communication.

There are some legitimate reasons why people develop this habit. People that come from cultures or families that are generally loud and compete for the speaking floor get used to functioning in that environment. If you don’t talk loud and elbow your way into the conversation, then you just don’t get heard.

But that kind of communication doesn’t work in a more polite society or the workplace. Talking over other people can be seen as rude, dismissive, and disrespectful to those who aren’t used to that communication style.

Interrupting can also make quieter people feel excluded and unimportant, which isn’t really how you want people to feel in a good conversation.

9 Ways To Stop Interrupting People

1. Practice active listening.

Active listening is focusing intently on what the speaker has to say until they finish their thought.

Many people do not practice active listening. Instead, they skim the speaker’s words while trying to think of the next thing they want to say. This is a problem for a couple of reasons. First, they’re not really listening and may miss important context or statements that the speaker is making. Second, it makes the listener appear as though they are not engaged in the conversation.

And that second point is especially bad if you happen to be talking to the boss or having a sensitive conversation with a loved one. You don’t want to appear to be disengaged or uninterested.

Try to avoid thinking about what you want to say while the other person is thinking. Instead, quiet yourself and just focus on their words.

2. Pause for 10 seconds before speaking.

Sometimes we interrupt other people due to miscues in the flow of conversation. These cues can be easy to miss if you aren’t practicing active listening because they are often subtle. The speaker may have paused for dramatic effect, comedic timing, or just to gather their thoughts before they continue.

A good way to stop interrupting people is to simply take ten seconds between the time they stop speaking and you start speaking. It might feel awkward, but you can always explain this away as you were just thinking about what was being said, which you should be doing anyway.

That pause will also give you a little additional time to read the speaker and look for conversation cues for them, like if their facial expression denotes thought or a joke.

3. Purse your lips or cover your mouth.

Perhaps you need an active reminder to help stifle the impulse to talk over other people. You can do that by pursing your lips or adopting a posture where you can cover your mouth. Pursing your lips helps because it’s common body language for being in thought. The person you are speaking to will interpret that as you thinking about their words.

You may also find it helpful to rest your chin in your hand and put a finger over your lips, circumstances allowing. That would be fine in a personal conversation but will probably look a little off in professional conversations or meetings.

Either way, it’s a physical reminder to stop yourself from talking over people who haven’t finished what they have to say.

4. Repeat their statement back when appropriate.

When communicating with another person, a common piece of advice is to repeat their point back to them in your own words to show that you understand what they are saying. This can be a helpful piece of advice for not interrupting or talking over people because it forces your mind to stay focused on the speaker.

This is most helpful in a personal conversation where the other person expresses something of deep importance. Like, think of when a friend is having a hard time, or maybe you’re having a discussion with your boss about a work responsibility.

5. Allow the speaker to continue if you do interrupt.

You’re going to mess up. You’re going to fall back to that old habit and interrupt someone sooner or later. It’s okay! Really. No one is perfect, so don’t expect yourself to be either.

Stop yourself when it happens. Just say, “I’m sorry for interrupting, please go on.”

The habit of making that apology will help you maintain better control over when you decide to interject into the conversation. And it has the added benefit of communicating to the speaker that you realize you made an error, are apologetic, and give them back the floor to continue speaking.

6. Make notes if you are in a work setting or group conversation.

In a work or group setting, it is helpful to carry a small notebook with you. That way, you can jot down notes and thoughts you have about what’s being said to revisit later. Some people interrupt because they are afraid they will forget their question or point. The notebook is the solution to that problem.

Plus, it’s helpful to collect these thoughts and notes for when you get to the end of the presentation. You may find that your question was already answered or your points covered by the end.

7. Acknowledge your interruption if you need to make one.

There are times in conversations when you need to make an interruption. Perhaps there is a bit of misinformation being shared that you need to correct. In that scenario, just limit yourself to providing the appropriate context or information required for the comment.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but…”

Make your point, and then step back out of the flow of conversation.

An interruption is sometimes necessary.

8. Ask a friend to help you.

Changing a habit can be hard work. You can make the job easier by enlisting the help of a trusted friend or family member. Have them keep an eye on you and just give you a little nudge or inform you when you’re interrupting, so you can better avoid it.

After the conversation is over, they can just tell you, “Hey, you interrupted John while he was talking about his trip.” That way, you can acknowledge it with yourself if you feel it slipped under your radar.

9. Practice with a partner.

A great way to change any habit is through regular practice. You can practice not interrupting with the help of a friend by just asking them to talk about a thing. Suggest they talk about something with their work, an event in their life, or a situation they had to deal with. Then, take that time to actively listen to what they have to say, work on your own internal narration, and stop the triggers that cause you to talk over people.

Make it clear that you are asking for help with this specific problem and may not be entirely invested in the conversation. You don’t want your friend to be pouring their heart out to you, and you’re not paying attention because you’re thinking about how you speak.

Keep practicing. Keep working on listening and just being quiet when other people speak. The more you work at it, the easier it will be to ditch that interrupting habit and be a quality conversationalist.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Why is interrupting people rude?

In many cultures, interrupting people is rude because it shows disrespect to the person speaking and the point they are trying to make. People like to express themselves and feel heard by those they are talking to. To interrupt is to deny them that right.

What are the consequences of interrupting people?

If you regularly interrupt someone, it might make them pull away from you or not want to talk to you. After all, if they can’t say what’s on their mind without you jumping in every five seconds, they’ll look for someone else with whom to share their thoughts, their news, or their worries.

Nobody wants to feel like they are part of a one-sided conversation where only what you have to say matters enough to be listened to.

Talking over people is also a problem if you are being given instructions. You may think you know what someone wants you to do, but unless you listen to their words carefully, you are likely to make errors or not doing things the way they want them done. This can lead to trouble of all sorts, especially in work situations but also when it comes to helping out a friend or partner.

Interrupting people can make you seem arrogant, rude, self-centered, and uncaring. These are not qualities you would wish to convey to others because they lead to weaker relationships and destroy the relationships you have already built up.

What does it feel like to be interrupted during a conversation?

When someone interrupts what you are saying, it can feel like what you have to say isn’t important. This can extend to feeling like nothing you have to say is important if someone in your life like a partner or parent always talks over you.

When you don’t feel heard, you may feel unloved or not respected. It can also make you feel powerless if the other person disregards your opinions and makes choices for you.

Being interrupted can also lead to feelings of anger and annoyance. It can cause ill-feelings toward the person who interrupted you that last well beyond the conversation."

#again I might not 100% agree with everything here #but there's still some good points being made #manners #good manners #courtesy #etiquette #politeness #submission

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stave-writes · 2 days

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hello!! may i request mitrun and thistle(separately) x artist!reader who is very interested in their appearance, but hides it very well. most of the time they did not notice the reader's interest in their appearance(and they don't really notice the reader either lol), but one day, approaching the reader from behind to discuss something, they make some very high-quality sketches with them?? I hope this is not a very long request and don't forget to drink water!! :)

Mithrun & Thistle (Seperately) x Artist!GN!Reader

Word Count: 555

So sorry about how long this took to come out! Been fighting writer's block but the power of Mithrun debut (!!!!!) is forcing me to make sure I'm up to date with requests ^^

Also in terms of writing Thistle, I view them as mentally still underage so this will be platonic for them, sorry to disappoint at all ^^'

Mithrun could never understand why you look at him like you do, with a gaze full of curiosity and hiding behind your sketchbook when he catches you. Was there something in his hair? Did he do something to upset you? He tended not to pay you any mind, after all, he didn't care about much anymore. So, when asked by a mutual friend to go talk to you, he wasn't exactly against it.

He'd chosen to approach you from behind, simply to see how you'd react. It was funny seeing people jump or flinch when he teleported behind them, even if he didn't have a desire to play around like a child. So, he'd appeared behind you, face leaning right over your shoulder and opening his mouth to speak before he saw it. A...sketch of him?

It made more sense now, that you'd been watching him so often, that you were always face first in your sketchbook when he was around. You'd been drawing him, and he wasn't against it. In fact, the amount of detail was impressive, even if the visible bags under his eyes and the gauntness of his face did make him recoil just a bit.

"Good job." Was his quiet mutter, turning to look you in the face while you were visibly dying with a mix of surprise and embarrassment that you'd been caught by the very man who filled pages and pages of your sketchbook. A smile couldn't help but rise on his face, chuckling softly as he moved away from your personal space. It seemed he mulled his words for a second before shrugging, speaking plainly, "Someone sent me to come get you, said they have a message for you."

And with that deadpan speech, he was gone. Although, anyone who ran into the Captain that day did seem to think he was a little...sunnier than usual. Odd.

Thistle on the other hand is used to posing for portraits with his family, sitting politely still for the painters or being urged to smile brightly to not distract from Delgal or Yaad. He quite enjoyed not being the focus of the paintings, especially with his ears not paid much attention to.

So it was a little confusing when, as he draped himself to look over your shoulder, he saw a sketch of him. With his white hair tied up into the bun, it'd been in for the last 1000 years, and his ears were floppy slightly with youth but still pointed due to his elf heritage. It was a little flattering, being the subject of someone's art!

Smiling brighter than he had for a while, Thistle leant his head on your shoulder, peering up at you with those curious purple eyes and waiting for your reaction. It was a little confusing when you seemed almost upset he'd found your work. Was...he not supposed to see it?

"It looks good! Why didn't you show me it?" Thistle queried, leaning his elbows on your shoulder with a head tipped to the side, as if tilting his head would just knock understanding right into place. Even when you explained they were just personal sketches, Thistle let out a huff. "I like them. Can you make me one to have?" Eventually, you agreed with a sigh. He was lucky he was so damn cute.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi mithrun #dungeon meshi spoilers #mithrun x reader #mithrun #thistle dunmeshi #thistle dungeon meshi #sissel dungeon meshi #thistle x reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #gn reader #fluff #dunmeshi fluff #♤ stave chatter #long post

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slytherhys · 1 day

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An Illicit Rivalry - Part II

A/N: I have received so many requests to continue this story and in honour of Elriel Month and the AU prompt I thought...why not? So please enjoy this little prequel to the beloved "An Illicit Rivalry" story. And yes, I might write a little something else soon about Elriel at the Yule ball.

TW: mild swearing

Word Count: 3.2K | You can also read this on AO3!

When Elain finally entered the Potion’s classroom, she was already seven minutes late. Needless to say, the conditions she encountered weren’t the most favourable ones: her favourite workstation had already been taken by a Ravenclaw she barely recognised, Professor Snape was shooting her the dirtiest glare he could muster, and Azriel Rosehall was staring at her, a smirk on his annoyingly handsome face.

While standing next to the only available stool, of course.

Elain sighed, making her way towards the open seat before Snape had a chance to utter a single word about her tardiness (Elain couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t just start crying in the middle of the classroom if that were to happen and to be honest, her pride couldn’t afford to take the hit). She hardly needed Rosehall to find more ways to mock her, so to say she was pleased when he continued his lecture was an understatement.

Even if her reprieve lasted all but three seconds.

“Got held back by Trelawney, did you?” His teasing question was everything but polite, his hazel eyes trailing down her body as if trying to find something amiss. Elain laid down her books on the table, dropping her red apple next to them –vaguely wishing she had managed to eat it before coming to class. She didn’t know if she had enough energy to handle Potions class, let alone sitting through it next to Rosehall. “Heard you weren’t doing that well in divination.”

Elain scowled, barely looking in his direction as she pretended to pay attention to whatever Snape was droning about. “As per usual, Rosehall, it seems you are mistaken.” She didn’t even try to hide the boasting in her voice, even as she wondered how he even knew she was coming from Divination, since they didn’t share that class. “Trelawney was delighted by my work and wanted to see me after class.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, swallowing dry as she finally took him in.

His hazel eyes were full of mirth as they flickered between her and Snape, messy hair framing his handsome face in a way that made it seem like he didn’t try too much (even if Elain suspected he did try quite a lot). His quidditch thighs and full lips had been the object of many Hogwarts students’ wet dreams, something she was unfortunately aware of due to the inappropriate conversations constantly being held in her dorm room, and his smile had actually made one girl trip on her own feet one time outside of Charms.

Azriel frowned ever so slightly at her explanation, opening his mouth to say something inappropriate and offensive, if Elain had to guess.

“Miss Archeron,” Snape’s flat voice sounded instead, snapping her from her Rosehall-induced daze. It was all Elain could do not to yelp as she turned around to find herself face to face with his ugly sneer. “Would you mind identifying the potion you’ll be brewing today?”

Elain gaped, unable to utter a single word. She eyed the classroom, trying to find help from her useless colleagues. Azriel was hiding his smirk behind his hand, eyes sparkling as if he enjoyed watching her squirm under the attentive stare of a teacher. Nuala was sending her panicked looks from across the room, and Cerridwen kept flickering her eyes to the table, as if ordering her to just look.

And look Elain did. Following her line of sight, she seemed to finally take in exactly what ingredients were laying in front of her, her heart starting to race inside her chest. She frowned, unable to understand what she was seeing because there was simply no way…

Standard potioning eater, Ashwinder eggs, rose thorns, peppermint, powdered moonstone.

She would’ve laughed – hysterically – if she could, but Snape’s dull gaze was still pinned to her, waiting for an answer that, for whatever reason, Elain was dreading to name, let alone brew. In this room. Next to him.

Elain took a deep breath, swallowing dry as her eyes flickered to Azriel, who was watching her a raised eyebrow, and then to Snape, who was still waiting for her to say the words. The words that seemed to be glued to the roof of her mouth.

Still, she did her best to gather her wits. “Amortentia.” Elain said confidently, even as her heart kept beating frantically inside her chest, as if wanting to run as far away from this room as possible.

She heard the giggles and the excited yelps of her colleagues, the murmurs of her curious friends, but none of it seemed to matter – not as she became painfully aware of a familiar heated gaze on the side of her face. “The most powerful love potion in existence.” And because she knew Azriel wanted to add something to her lacklustre answer, she quickly said, “It is easily recognised by its mother-of-pearl sheen and the steam that rises from it in spirals.”

“Not to mention the adaptive scent.” Azriel’s voice excited sounded from her side, and it was all Elain could do not to turn to him and ask him why in Merlin’s beard he was so excited. “Its scent will alter to appeal to the preferences of whomever smells the potion.”

Snape eyed them critically, turning around when he seemed to find nothing amiss. Elain took a deep breath, painfully aware of Azriel’s uncharacteristic silence. She turned to watch him, frowning as she found him staring at the table, a contemplative look on his face.

“Amortentia is not a force to be reckoned with,” Snape said as he walked to the front of the room, his dark robes billowing dramatically after him. “It is not something to use for your silly infatuations, but a dangerous weapon that needs to be treated as such.” He glared at a particularly giggly Hufflepuff before speaking again. “You will have forty-five minutes to brew it. Dotry not to burn my classroom to the ground.”

Elain gulped, swiping her clammy hands on her robe before rising to gather her ingredients, Azriel Rosehall a shadow trailing after her. She tried not to care, tried not to show just how aware of his presence she was – mainly as she thought of the potion they’d be brewing in just a couple of minutes. A nervous shiver ran down her body as she walked by him, going back to her workstation without a glance back.

Rosehall silently made his way towards his seat, avoiding looking at her as he organised his ingredients with a critical eye. Elain shook herself awake, willing herself to focus on her work instead of the man who had been making her life hell for the past couple of years.

So what if Elain had already brewed Amortentia once before, just to try it out? So what if she recalled exactly what it had smelled like – how that scent had haunted her day and night as she tried to find a reasonable excuse as to why she was smelling Azriel Rosehall of all people?

But maybe today would be different, Elain thought with an optimist smile. Maybe today she would finally fix whatever mistake she had made last time, and she would finally smell exactly what her preferences were – that Gryffindor who sometimes smiled in her direction or even that muggle she had dated back home, over the summer.

She just had to stay focused, that was all.

Azriel cleared his throat, and it was as if all her attention shattered like glass. “Were you, erm, were you being serious?” He asked, glancing at her once before resuming his work. He was chopping the rose thorns with a level of attention that Elain couldn’t help but admire. “About the Trelawney thing?”

Elain sent him her best unimpressed look before gathering her peppermint leaves and beginning to mince them. “Why would I lie about that?” She snapped a bit harshly, feeling her hackles rise at his questioning stare. Azriel simply shrugged, going back to his work as if nothing was amiss.

Elain felt a bit out of sorts, her clammy hands returning with a vengeance as she shakily dropped the peppermint inside her cauldron. “She told me I show early signs of being a seer.” Why she had felt like sharing that tidbit of information with him – someone who didn’t take her seriously on an ordinary day, let alone when she was bragging about her fortune-telling tendencies – was beyond her.

But Azriel went still, going quiet at her words as he stared at his bubbling cauldron.

Elain turned fully to him, scoffing at his silence. “What?” She asked, a bit bewildered to be sure. “You have nothing to say about that? That was an easy mark, Rosehall. Even for you.”

Azriel furrowed his brows, an amused smile growing on his annoyingly lush lips as he seemed to come out of whatever trance he had been just a few moments prior. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Easy to mock.” She shrugged. “And I know how much you love to hear yourself talk.”

“I’m starting to wonder if you’re the one likes when I tease you, Archeron.”

Elain scoffed. “Tease me? Is that what you call it?” She shook her head, blaming the heat of the cauldron for her reddening cheeks.

“Among other things.”

“Do enlighten me, then.”

Azriel eyed her once, quickly returning his attention to his hands as he measured the powdered moonstone before dropping it inside the blue concoction bubbling inside his cauldron. Elain was strangely delighted that the colour of their potions seemed to match, though she would never tell a soul. “I don’t think you’re quiet ready for that answer.”

She sighed, a bit exasperated. “How convenient for you, then.” Merlin, she really should’ve had eaten her blasted apple. She felt dizzy already.

“Rather inconvenient, actually, Archeron.” Azriel shook his head, amusement still clear on his expression. “I’m a patient man, but even I have my limits.” He said, stirring the potion counterclockwise before switching directions. Elain did the same, a satisfied smile on her face as she momentarily forgot about Azriel and noticed the beautiful mother-of-pearl sheen her potion was turning.

“You’re usually much more direct.” Elain mused, narrowing her eyes at him as she stirred her potion clockwise, six times.

Azriel smirked, gently resting his wooden spoon on the counter as he turned to her. “You’re usually much cleverer.”

Elain sputtered, gaping as she, herself, dropped her wooden spoon on the counter. “I’ll have you know-” Azriel took a step in her direction, and Elain went perfectly still, wide-eyed as she stared at him in bewilderment. “What are you doing?”

“Are you done?” He asked suddenly and Elain could do nothing but blink, confused. “Are you finished?” He pointed at her potion and Elain furrowed her brows nodding. “Then what does your Amortentia smell like?” He asked, low enough that only she was the only one to hear his rather invasive question, really.

Elain scoffed, suddenly feeling too hot inside her robes. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“What,” He said again, quietly, his eyes intent on her. “Does it smell like, Archeron?”

Elain had a total amount of three seconds to wonder if there was any way in hell Azriel knew what she was smelling before squashing those doubts. No matter who brewed it, there was only one thing that Azriel could smell – whatever his preferences were. And Elain did not want to consider them for too long on the off chance of becoming violently ill.

Instead, she made a show of rolling her eyes, turning around, and smelling it like she didn’t know exactly what it smelled like. As if its scent hadn’t been ingrained in her mind for six months, when one night over Winter Break she decided to test it out and prove herself that whatever she felt whenever Azriel Rosehall stared at her was purely hatred and nothing more.

How utterly wrong she had been.

“Roses, bread and…Parchment.” She cleared her throat, smiling up at an unimpressed Azriel. He simply raised a brow. “Roses, bread and parchment.” She said again, as if it made it any truer.

“Really.” He asked, taking a step closer. He was now standing so close to her the scent wafting from the Amortentia seemed to disappear, replaced by the very real smell of him. One that not even the most perfect potion in the world could replicate.

She smiled a bit shakily. “Really.”

He hummed, tilting his head as he took her in. “Like I said,” He shrugged, eyes flickering between her own. “You’re not ready for the truth.”

Elain scoffed. “Teasing me with whatever misconceptions you created inside your mind isn’t going to work.” She said, fuming as she watched him pouring his mother-of-pearl potion into a standard glass flask. Elain tried not to scowl too much as she noticed how incredible it looked.

Azriel simply shrugged, as if unbothered by her blasé response. That his relaxed indifference drove her insane was an understatement.

“It isn’t!” She whispered-shouted as she watched him clean his workstation, turning around and dropping his potion on Snape’s desk before leaving the room without a glance back.

Elain stared at the door, gaping like an idiot as she tried to make sense of whatever nonsense Azriel was planning now. She knew he was just trying to get under her skin – knew that there was absolutely no way for him to know what her potion smelled like. That it smelled like him.

Unless…

Elain made haste, pushing her books inside her satchel, grabbing her apple, and dropping her own potion – perfectly brewed, thank you very much – on Snape’s table before running after Rosehall, aware that the entire class was left looking at her in perplexity. She couldn’t even blame them – she knew she looked absolutely crazy, running after the man they all knew she loved to hate.

But that unless kept running around her mind in circles, leaving behind a trail of foggy giddiness that she didn’t want to examine too closely.

She quickly spotted him, turning left to the corridor that led to Flying class (Elain refrained from lying to herself about how she knew he had flying class after potions).

“Rosehall,” She nearly shouted, running after him in a bout of courage she would definitely curse later. Elain quickly turned the corner, softly panting as she came face to face with Azriel, who was no longer walking at all. He was leaning against the stone wall instead, waiting for her with a wary yet amused look on his face.

She pretended not to enjoy his attention, frowning instead as she thought of something clever and witty to say.

Nothing came to mind.

“What were you talking about?” She asked instead, feeling as if she was on the edge of a precipice, about to stumble into a life she hadn’t seen coming.

Azriel was impassive, staring at her in that quiet way of his that never failed to unsettle her. “What part of you’re not ready haven’t you gotten yet?”

Elain groaned, throwing her head back in frustration. “Cut the bullshit, Rosehall.”

He chuckled bitterly, his expression turning serious so quickly Elain felt her heart drop to her stomach. “What did you actually smell, Elain?” He seemed crazed, wide eyes as he stared at her, tensionpulsing in the space between them.

Elain chuckled nervously, looking around as if seeking someone to save her. “What is it to you?” Her skin felt too tight, her voice hysterical.

“Tell me, Archeron.” He muttered darkly, and Elain felt a shiver run down her spine at the command in his voice. That she was delighted by it was proof enough that she was losing her mind. Had been for the past six months.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business-”

“Jasmine, honey and red apples.” He interrupted and Elain frowned, tilting her head in confusion. “That’s what I smelled.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Was he trying to make her jealous? Why would he want that, in the first place?

“Elain,” her first name on his tongue was jarring. Elain was enthralled, compelled by his presence as he took one step closer to her. “Jasmine,” He said, taking another step. “Honey,” He murmured, eyes flickering between her own. “And red apples.” He said, his own hand reaching for hers – for the one holding a red apple she hadn’t had the chance to eat yet. The very same fruit she had every day in-between classes.

She felt her entire body go hot and cold, her limbs going numb before she could come up with a single word. She could hardly breathe, completely lost in the words that seemed to now haunt every corner of her mind.

Jasmine, honey and red apples. Jasmine, honey and red apples.

Azriel had smelled her. Azriel had brewed a – nearly – perfect love potion and he had smelled her. Not only that, but he was admitting it to her, in a deserted hallway where no one stood witness but a portrait of a noisy Witch who was trying too hard to pretend she wasn’t listening at all.

Elain swallowed, opening her mouth to say something – anything – and closing it again when nothing came to mind. Azriel’s shoulders dropped, his cocky demeanour gone in a flash as he chuckled humourlessly.

Before Elain could begin to explain; before she could convince him to just wait, give her some time so she could process the fact her entire life had turned upside down in a matter of seconds, Azriel was turning around, leaving without a glance back. Elain started to panic, her breathing ragged as she looked around once more, looking for help for an entirely different reason.

When none seemed to come, she did what seemed right. What felt right.

“Cedar, night mist and peppermint.”

Azriel stopped where he stood, his back still turned to her. His entire body seemed to go still as he waited. For what, Elain didn’t know, but she repeated her words all the same – she knew he needed them as much as she had needed his.

“Cedar, night mist, and peppermint.” Because he always chewed an entire pack of gum before a game of Quidditch. Because Elain watched every single match whenever he was playing.

Azriel turned around, that familiar smirk painted on his lips as he eyed her up and down. But this time it didn’t feel assessing – and like she was looking at a kaleidoscope of their shared moments, Elain wondered if the heat she had seen in his gaze every time he had looked at her like that was not out of hatred, but something else entirely.

A trail of fire followed his gaze and Elain couldn’t have stopped the smile taking over her lips even if she wanted to. Because they both knew – all pretence was gone. There was no more hiding, no more pretending. They were in a landslide, and the only way now was down – whatever the hell it lead, they had no choice but let themselves go. Still, Elain couldn’t bring herself to feel scared. Not as Azriel smiled brilliantly, hazel eyes bright as he sealed their fate. “Meet me in the library tonight, Archeron. Eleven o’clock” He put his hands in his pockets, pure confidence and male arrogance as he smirked. “And don’t be late.” He said, turning around and walking away again. “I’m done waiting.”

#elriel month #elrielmonth2024 #elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fic #elriel fic #my writing #an illicit rivalry #acotar #azriel

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