lady bellona

golden blade, golden blood multifandom nsfw sideblog 18

[bellona-caeles]

my greetings, mortal, to my temple. i am lady bellona, a roman godess of war.

bellona‘s newest blessing

i’ll treat you like a queen king !jason todd

ON HIATUS ; part of the shared bllk nsfw blog @bllk-after-dark

BELLONA CAELES 2022

[awkatsukis-deactivated20231016]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐘.

˖ ࣪⭑ warnings : possesive! rin, fem! reader, some public indecency, groping, rin can't keep his hands off u what's new, heavy petting & makeout sessions, teasing

ITOSHI Rin has to be close to you. He's possessive, but that's a trait that doesn't come as a surprise to you or anyone who knows him. But this fire in him seems to blaze brighter whenever he finds you hanging out with his teammates. Of course he doesn't mind, if anything he adores showing you off, but there's something that irks him in the way his teammates oggle you from far away, how they seem distracted during training when you're around or how their eyes wander more than they should.

With another grueling practice session behind him Rin pads to the locker room, knowing exactly where to find you. It's become a familiar dance between the two of you, a game of cat and mouse but you adored being the prey. He ensures everyone's left before slipping inside, passing row upon row of lockers before he spits your silhouette on one of the benches. You're decked in one of his old jerseys, the material brushing your bare thighs, stopping just below where it would be considered indecent to be wearing that.

But, fuck, he loved it when you wore his clothes.

You perk up at the sound of his footsteps, eyes twinkling as they settle on his sweaty figure, his hair sticking to his forehead and his cheeks a little flushed from the physical exertion. He coos your name, a soft sound adorned with something a little more sinister, and without hesitation you trail over to him.

"Hmm... You're so obedient today," he remarks, grabbing the back of his sweaty practice shirt and pulling it over his head to discard. "You looking to be rewarded, sweet thing?"

The petname makes you shiver and you're tempted to run your hands down his bare chest, to feel the grooves and dips of muscle beneath your fingertips, to soak up the heat of his body. But you wait, patient, just how he taught you before he reels you into his body, pressing you as tightly as possible to him. You swore you felt him placing a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head.

"Missed you," you mumble against his skin, placing a kiss over his left pec, right underneath his heart. The gesture makes his heart surge, but on the surface only the corners of his lips quirk up slightly.

"Can't have that now, can we?"

Rin's lips are hot and feverish against yours and it takes your brain a couple of seconds to catch up with what's happening. He's kissing you like he's been starved of your taste for years, easing you back a few steps as you blindly follow before your back meets the cool metal of a locker. His hips press forward against yours and the thin practice shorts he wears does nothing to conceal how hard his cock is, you can pratically feeling throbbing against you.

You part your lips in invitation as a desperate, fleeting sound escapes you, a plea for him to give you more. Rin simply shushes your desperate sounds, kissing you harder. "Shh, baby," he urges, his voice hoarse and low but laced with velvet. "I'll give you what you want."

As much as he loved teasing you nothing could beat the sight of you drowning in the pleasure he gave you which is why one of his hands snakes down your body, nudging up the jersey of his you wear before he finds the band of your underwear, tracing the soft material with the pad of his thumb, back and forth as his mouth continues to distract you.

"I bet that if I pulled these pretty panties down right now you'd be soaked," he whispers, breaking away from the kiss in order to allow you to catch your breath. His breath is warm against your cheeks which have heated up. His touch is dizzying. He tilts his head at you when you don't answer — you're unable too, your mind already foggy, hazy with hungry thoughts about him.

"Right?" His thumb dips underneath the hem of your panties before he pulls the elastic back an inch or two, letting it snap against your skin. You yelp softly, drawing a deep chuckle from his chest. "Why don't we find out?"

[auraxins]

aaaa ven your event is so cute it’s hard to decide what to pick UEUEUE but happy bday week! i hope you’ve had fun so far and continue to enjoy yourself <3 😌

as for your event, could i please ask for a necklace full of rubies and rose quartzes for kaveh? (no pressure ofcofc!!)

ten,, my dear sweet beloved ten <3 i uh went Very self-indulgent with this, i hope u like it :)) ALSO TYSM ILY MUAH

[event masterlist]

rose quartz: love, respect, trust, self-worth

ruby: sexuality, vitality, awareness

warnings: nsfw, gn!reader (no bodyparts specified), dom!reader, sub!kaveh, shibari, edging, bdsm, handjobs, praise

“That’s my good boy,” you hum, tying off the last of the rope around Kaveh’s torso, caressing along the edge of one of the thick twisted twines as you go. 

He shifts below your touch, an anticipatory whine escaping his lips. Whilst it is almost criminal that his ruby irises are obscured by the silk blindfold across them, the sight of him tied up like this, pretty cock hard and leaking precum onto your sheets, is worth it all. You’ve looped the bright scarlet rope carefully around his chest, outlining the swell of his pectorals, and bound his arms behind his back, leaving him to kneel with spread legs on the bed before you. 

“Wanna kiss you,” he complains, breath stalling in his throat when you gently reach forward to cradle his face in your palms. 

You press a kiss against his cheek, another to the inner corner of his lips, and he greedily steals a third straight from your mouth as he chases after the sensation of your skin against his. Kaveh’s tongue, hot and slick and desperate, slips past your lips to greet your own and he releases such a satisfied groan that you could almost be convinced he’s been starved of you. 

“I’m going to touch you now,” you say gently as you pull away, “is that okay?”

“Yes,” he breathes, “fuck, yes, please.”

His dick throbs in your hand as you encircle it, squeezing lightly, and his head throws back in pleasure. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think your lover were about to come from this alone. But Kaveh is always such a good boy for you, receptive and well-behaved- he won’t come until you let him. 

And you intend to drive him to the brink of insanity tonight.

[bllk-after-dark]

wildest fantasies.

pairing. itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, otoya eita, yukimiya kenyu, nagi seishiro x f!reader

content warnings. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, nsfw, how the top 6 imagine fucking you, dom!character x sub!reader, vary in each installment, some are prevalent than others (oops), written in lowercase

Keep reading

[shibaraki]

GOD’S LONELIEST CREATION ┊ AIZAWA SHOUTA

synopsis: as head of the mothman study you’ve devoted countless nights to observing your subject from behind the glass. you liked to think those many months spent together contributed to a sense of camaraderie, but time is merely a cradle gently lulling you into false security— and shouta is nothing if not patient.

tags: NSFT, AFAB reader (mention of ovulating), monsters + cryptids au, mothman aizawa, implied monster hunting, captivity, cryptozoologist reader, possessiveness, dubcon to eventual enthusiastic consent, oblivious reader, monsterfucking, mating behaviour, breeding, mentions of size difference (he is 7ft; called ‘little human’ +‘little flame’), vaginal oral sex + tongue fucking (reader receiving), multiple orgasms, non-human genitalia, oviposition (reader receiving; but no belly bulging), unprotected vaginal sex, *slaps roof* you can fit so much plot in this porn!!

wc: 7k+

Tucked away into the seam between Shizuoka and Musutafu is the UA Cryptobiology research centre. In the eyes of the public it was an extension of the nearby UA University and largely harmless. Cryptids kept there are not advertised, atleast, not the living ones.

The building is huge. An architectural giant, and a stain on the natural landscape. You’ve worked there for years yet still find yourself struck by just how foreboding it looks. Head ducked, you slip past the thin crowd protesting by the security gate, staff card hidden in the sleeve of your shirt.

While they are few in number their voices are loud and accusing. You flinch at the vitriol as you try to reach the scanner. There was a small earthquake in a nearby prefecture a few days ago which was the likeliest reason they had gathered here.

On days like this you couldn’t help the thought that no amount of scientific research would wipe away the countrywide consensus on cryptids. Very early on in your career you came to understand why your superiors lied about the live subjects. If these people knew the truth they could probably birth a calamity all of their own.

Unfortunately it is not only the monstrous who are a target. You lock eyes with a guard standing by the gates and slip your keycard into the shallow of your palm. Nodding in acknowledgement, he places the whistle hung around his neck between his lips and the moment you swipe in he blows, hard.

The gate clicks and unlocks with a short beep that is drowned out by the noise. You walk through and quickly push it closed behind you. Thank you, you mouth over to him, scurrying across the lot toward the main doors. He offers a flippant wave in return.

You enter the mouth of the lobby. It is a wide dome shaped room with high ceilings that houses most of the lecture rooms, and acts as a junction to other parts of the facility. Looking up, you can see each floor twisting into a spiral.

Centred is the reception desk; large and circular to make room for five staff members to be seated at any given time. Yamada is there today, dressed with his shirt cuffs pushed to the elbow, waist length hair braided up into a ponytail. He leans dangerously far back in his chair and twiddles a pen between his fingers. Your unease falls away at the familiar sight.

“Yamada,” you intone sternly. A grin pulls at your lips when he startles. The wheels on his office chair squeak as he rights himself. Wide sheepish eyes land on you and narrow in disbelief.

“Don’t do that,” he pouts, dragging himself closer to the desk, casting another nervous glance toward his coworker. “Bully! I could’ve broken my neck”.

“Then you would’ve thanked me for the two months paid sick leave”.

Yamada smirks, peering at you above his yellow tinted lenses “…Touché”.

You rest both arms on the countertop and lean over, holding a hand out to receive the sign in sheet. “You have a good weekend?” you ask, falling back into idle pleasantries while you skim over the names already on the register. Hatsume Mei. Huh, you think. She’s early.

“Kan and Kayama dragged me out drinking,” Yamada admits tiredly, massaging two fingers to his temples and closing his eyes, opening again to glare at your huff of laughter. “Sure love laughing at my misfortune, don’t’cha? I think you’re spending too much time with those spooks”.

Signing your name in the next blank row, you give a brief glance at the watch on Yamada’s wrist to mark the time. “Comes with the territory,” you murmur, amused by the whine in his voice, setting the pen and register down on his desk with some finality. “Seen Mei today? She signed in already”.

“You bet. That girl is hard to miss,” he slides the sheets toward his front. “Speaking of…” you turn at the amused hum. His pen is pointed left like the needle of a compass leading directly to a familiar figure. Hatsume is clutching her clipboard with a tenuous grip as she scurries through the lobby, pink hair bouncing on her shoulders.

Her gaze finds you and she perks up. You lift a hand to return a wave as she beckons you frantically. It’s not entirely uncharacteristic of her. Hatsume was the rare type— she loved this job. Any small change or news could garner this reaction from her.

The excitable exclamation of your name draws the attention of the people around you, though the intern remains entirely unperturbed, almost tripping over her feet to get to you. “Mei,” you smile, instinctively stepping forward with arms held open in case she stumbles. “What’s all the noise about? Did something happen?”

“Food!” she pants heavily, grasping your forearm for balance. Her eyes are wide and beseeching as if the word alone was enough to explain her enthusiasm. It doesn’t.

Slow, you repeated, “…Food?”

The band keeping her hair tied back loosens while she nods. “It’s the mothman. He’s not eating!”

“He’s not…” you blink. “Oh!” The realisation trickles in, and you find yourself gripping onto Hatsume’s arms with bruising pressure as it washes over you. Your cheeks ache and she mirrors your grin.

Yamada clears his throat, interrupting before you have the chance to speak. “What’s so great about that?” he asks. “Wouldn't that be a sign that he’s sick or something?”

“No,” you breathe. Energy buzzes lightning-quick under your skin. Restless, you begin to shake Hatsume where she stands, and the two of you laugh in astonishment. “It means he’s hoarding!”

“Hoarding?”

“Mothman cryptids will take food back to their nests for their partners but,” the burst of joy dwindles, then. You worry at your bottom lip. “But… previous observations show that this behaviour should come after they’ve met a potential mate”.

“You think we should be worried?”

“I think it’s unusual”.

Hatsume doesn’t wilt. She shrugs your doubts off like water to a duck’s back, bouncing on the balls of her feet and handing over the clipboard. As always, the notes are verbose but organised. Detailed down to the very last time stamp.

There, written in pen, it states that at 11:58 the mothman was seen hovering by the food hatch. It clarified that there were no signs of aggression or posturing. Shouta was simply waiting. Shouta never waits. At 12:00 his usual weekly meal was given and instead of consuming it immediately as he normally would, Shouta gathered the food to his chest and took flight.

You’re rushing off toward the cryptid wing before Hizashi can press any further. Hatsume is at your heel, her quick light-footed steps echoing through the corridors.

The mothman enclosure is immense. Space is required— most cryptids can grow up to seven feet or above, and their wings even taller. Separated from your observation deck by a thick, bulbous glass window, you needed to crane your head just to catch a glimpse of the ceiling, which remained mostly covered by a canopy.

Flora covers the entirety of the forest floor. The foliage is so dense that sometimes seeing further is impossible, which in turn makes your job that much harder; but it’s worth it, for the sake of Shouta’s comfort. Unlike your predecessors, you strongly advocated for him. You viewed him as an individual, another sentient being with autonomy, and thought building a good foundation of trust could only lead to better data overall.

The facility is vastly different to the outside world. Blacked out nest boxes were placed around the area, hidden away for him to choose from however he pleased, as well as broad net columns where he can rest. Your team was instructed to begin adjusting the seasons months ago. Gradually, the temperature was changed to mimic fall. The fauna acclimated, dousing the otherwise dark and dreary forest in a warm colour palette.

Tawny leaves perched loosely on branches like a flock of goldfinches. Camouflaged behind them are two red dots emitting an unblinking glow. It is very unlike him to be this close to the deck so early in the evening. Waiting for more food, maybe. You note that thought down. You see his eyes follow the movement of your pen and smile.

Mothman cryptids are bipedal winged humanoids. They have always been notoriously aloof and difficult to study. Catching them outright was nigh impossible. They’re a highly intelligent species, and very sensitive to their surroundings. Your best bet was to inflict injury first and capture later when an infection set in.

Shouta was different from the start. So unlike his kin that you sometimes wondered if the research collated about him was permissible. He had been wounded badly by nearby collectors and managed to escape, but rather than relocate, he entered the facility of his own volition. You’d heard the stories. An eldritch being prying open the doors, thick steel bending like paper, the employees paralysed with fear, rendered unable to do anything except kneel under the intense pressure of his glare.

They had been so frightened that the shivering malachite bundle in his arms almost went amiss. A Peryton fawn matted with blood. Director Yagi supposedly spit blood of his own when he noticed.

Shouta never left after that.

Everyone figured the rumours were exaggerated. A mothman wouldn’t surrender itself for the sake of another, not even it’s own kind. That is the universal truth— all cryptids are incapable of empathy. Their sole purpose is to serve as the herald of death, and death bringers did not save life. They took it.

While you knew that to be ostensibly untrue it will never matter. Monster hunting was a tradition practiced for millennia. Accepting that they might be capable of emotion would cast doubt upon such practices. More than anything humanity needed justification for their wrong doings; condemning something as monstrous only renders such violence as heroic.

You, however, had a fascination with them since you were a child. Those unanswered questions and curiosities are what led you to cryptozoology, and ultimately, into cryptid behavioural research. Having Shouta’s care handed over to you was a dream come true.

Shouta was averse to people and made that known; keepers could be found petrified by the feeding hatch, trembling in place for hours if they weren’t careful. Which is why your superiors were greatly pleased by his reaction to you.

You couldn’t confidently say he liked you— could a mothman like anyone? But the cryptid was, at the very least, intrigued by his new handler.

Within the first meeting you recorded vocalisations that were previously undiscovered. Soft chittering and clicks, surprisingly pleasing to the ear; it had a hypnotic quality to it that could almost lull you to sleep. The common denominator was you— rather, Shouta only ever made those sounds when you were visibly anxious, and you often toyed with the notion that he was attempting to soothe you.

You tried not to indulge in such hypotheses as not to cloud your judgment. Humans had a bad habit of anthropomorphising the things they cared about. Countless cynics argued that animals do not love, they simply form attachments to those that provide for them. Shouta may only treat you better because you are the first human to show him sincere respect but that didn’t matter.

Whether your place in his life was just that of a nuisance or not, you cared for him and his wellbeing all the same. That’s what made this so invigorating— not only answers to questions that plagued your field for centuries, but the real possibility that your subject might finally have true companionship.

Your mouth twists as your thoughts drift, imagining the smell of decay percolating in one of his nest boxes now that he was hoarding. Shouta could eat anything within reason if he needed to, but his preferred diet was on the bitter side. Rotted fruits and the like which had a more acidic, sour taste to it, though he could be partial to dry pantry food in the hotter months.

Mothman have been known to feast on flesh, too, in desperate times. Though it is rare for them to acquire the taste for human meat; too mild and too rubbery.

If he truly is readying for a mate then he would soon need more food, materials and bedding. The foliage worked as a foundation but you’re aware mothman cryptids liked to weave silk or cashmere into the structure for the young to cling to and eat.

That gives you pause. Your grimace curls into a wide, exuberant grin, that you immediately shield behind the clipboard. We could end up with babies this year, you think. The first to ever be bred in captivity— a near impossible feat.

Shouta’s antennae are fluttering. Their movements fracture the stillness of the canopy and make known his position. You stare long enough for the dark blob amongst the trees to sharpen into a solid silhouette.

A mothman has a wingspan of around thirteen feet. These measurements aren’t entirely accurate, because Shouta refused to allow anyone to touch them, but the sheer size was obvious at a distance even where they remained tucked to his spine, cocooning him in darkness.

They are covered in loose tiny hairs acting as scales for insulation, while creating intricate, iridescent patterns along the inner forewings that can only be seen in moonlight when open— a gift saved in hopes of wooing a mate. Maybe you’d finally get a glimpse this year.

“Hey big guy,” you call out. Your voice jostles his wings and beckons him forward. Shouta balances himself on a thick cedar branch directly across from the observation deck, a rare sight. He is magnificent in the artificial daylight.

Hatsume releases an awed breath behind you. “Gah, he’s always so responsive to you! I’m jealous!”

Shouta barely acknowledges her presence. His attention is steadfast, pinpointed to your every move; unblinking, lest you disappear from vision. “Don’t take it personally. He’s just known me longer, is all,” you demurred, turning to her with a reassuring smile.

But she is seeing beyond you. The hair on the nape of your neck prickles and suddenly a sinistrous shadow stretches across the deck. Mei flinches back reflexively and you daren’t look back. What was ephemeral fear in her features blossoms into wonderment.

Then, a tapping sound that echoes in your chest. It is careful and somehow that makes it all the more daunting. Brushing off the unease, you pivot on your heel, coming face to face with Shouta. Both wings have hunched forward to create a cocoon of darkness, his pale face barely visible.

Another tap, accompanied by a smooth rumble. His large hand is pressed up against the glass. You step closer and his wingspan widens just a fraction. The light reflects in his eyes. He is right in front of you, so contrivedly real-looking that it feels like it must be fake.

Call it curiosity, or stupidity, or an amalgamation of the two. You outstretch your arm. The pane feels cold where your body presumes warmth. You align your palm with his and it swallows yours, fingers splayed open, still unable to reach the width of his hand.

“Hi there…” you exhale, having to crane your head to hold his gaze. Shouta’s jaw shifts as he clicks his teeth and you are reminded just how impressive a mothman cryptid’s hearing is. “You’re acting all out of sorts, huh. Want more food for the nest, right?”

Dark talons leave marks on the thick glass, hairline fractures stemming from point of impact. His gaze darkens. Hatsume gasps when he shakes his head and you can’t blame her. Cryptids rarely communicated directly with handlers.

“No?” you repeat, brows pinched into a frown. Then, to yourself, “Nesting materials, then? Already? But it can’t be, surely”.

The choice is a difficult one. Every potential mate your team introduced Shouta to throughout the years has been adamantly rejected. There was never an effort to impress or prove himself. He either flat out ignored them or attempted to kill them. You want to enable his new behaviours— to encourage it, even — but there was no mate yet.

Pseudocyesis comes to mind. Though this situation is far different, you wondered whether something in Shouta’s environment had triggered these instincts.

The rich baritone in his purr vibrates against your hand. His eyes blink slow and beseeching, full of apparent hunger, emitting that dewy red glow. Distantly, you register the dull scratch of pencil to paper. Rambling whispers fall from Hatsume’s mouth as she writes, documenting everything the way you taught her to.

“I think,” you begin, tongue heavy in your mouth. Your throat feels dry and the implication behind your next words stings. “I think he wants me to go inside his enclosure”.

A sane person would immediately put their foot down and tell you no. Director Yagi himself would try to talk you down. However, Hatsume Mei is a far cry from sane. She barely considers her own safety, let alone yours.

“What for?” she chimes impatiently. “I noticed he has been keeping an eye out for a specific person all morning— it must’ve been you. Do you think he could really be sick like Yamada said? Since he’s humanoid we can test if our medicines work on him!”

“Mei,” you interrupt, your voice cutting through her exuberance. She shrinks somewhat and you feel bad for being so sharp with her. “No, I’m not sure if he’s sick. And no, our medication only works to an extent. The dose needs to be dangerously high and cryptids burn through it faster than it can be replaced”.

Shouta observes the interaction. The tension in his wings looks ready to snap, and the feathery fingers of his antennae have started to shiver. You take in the sight of your overlapped hands once more and step away, clenching it into a fist at your hip.

“Anyone who goes into a cryptid’s den doesn’t come out,” Hatsume comments, tone uncharacteristically somber.

“I trust him,” you reassured, leveling the mothman with a contemplative stare. He ducks into the fluffy plumage around his neck and glares. “Mostly”.

Hatsume snickers. The weight in your chest lifts and you smile at her. She’s still young. Too young to bear any responsibility for what might happen.

“Something is telling me I have to go in there. It’ll keep me up at night if I don’t,” you continue, adding emphasis with a pointed finger. “This was my idea and mine alone. Do not send anyone in after me. Capiche?”

She gives a mock salute, “Yes boss!”

Each wing with a cryptid enclosure has a staircase leading from the observation deck to a feeding room. You descend the stairs, too aware of Shouta’s stare, which followed until you were out of sight.

The room is dull. Devoid of natural light, furnished only by three large chest freezers and a closet full of linens. There is a hatch the size of a shoebox that can be pulled open to safely deposit food through, and adjacent is a vault door reinforced with steel and concrete.

You open the closet and parse through the fabrics. Admittedly a long shot as far as ‘I come in peace’ gestures go, but the only thing you can think might help. Silk slides petal-soft between your fingers and you tuck it under your arm, joined by another cashmere blanket, smooth and noticeably light.

The vault door requires both a code and a staff card. You input the code and swipe your card. The affirmative beep pierces through your equilibrium. Shouta is not harmless. But you are, and you’re hoping he knows that.

A loud click echoes into the feeding room. You grasp the handle and take one last steely inhale before heaving, struggling with the incredible weight. You curse the door as it groans on its hinges, alerting everything nearby of your arrival.

Mothman feast on anything. Vegetation and flesh, fresh or rotted, but legend always spoke of their hunger for misery. They coveted disaster and fed on it, babe to breast, and somehow grew hungrier the more they swallowed.

You step into the enclosure. The door shuts with a loud foreboding slam and locks automatically.

Shouta does harm to those who would harm him. He feasts on fruit. On cereal and rice. You’d watched him suck through ten packets of coffee jelly, but never misery. If anyone were to ask you, you would tell them that Shouta conjured the very opposite of misery.

You remind yourself of that repeatedly until your thoughts coalesce into white noise. The earth is soft beneath your boots. Something darts through the treeline, gone in a blink, and you feel the hair on your arms stand on end.

Easing into the surroundings, you cautiously call out to him, “…Shouta? You here, big guy?”

A low hum resonates throughout the trees. You feel it more than you hear it, almost like a caress. It coaxes a familiar warm feeling into the pit of your stomach, willing all tension from your muscles until the blankets pinned to your side unfold, falling onto the ground.

A coronal mist has set in, orchestrated by a chattering sound you know well. Your clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin. It’s harder to breathe now. Shaking, you try to advance. Your body is quickly paralysed by the innate urge to flee.

Shouta’s presence echoes throughout the brush and sinks it’s claws into you— throbs under your skin in time with your heart. But if you ran, would that make his blood sing? Would he interpret it as a challenge to prove his worth, or a rejection for which to kill you?

The air is temperate. That perfect balance between cool and humid. Lush oranges and yellows branch out into every corner. Light bleeds through the thinning canopy, the ground dappled with sunspots. This isn’t such a terrible place to die.

You don’t hear or see him. Like before, you feel him first. Fear washes over you and steals your breath. Shouta is at your back, shaping himself to your body in a way that boasts how large he is in comparison. You stay stockstill while he touches you, nosing gently at your throat.

Finding your voice, you croak his name. An eldritch purr shudders through him and he grasps at your hips, pulling them back against him. You exhale at the obvious press of his cock to your back. Those soft chitters you had come to love drown out the panic that follows your realisation.

You were the intended mate.

Death stands behind you, arms cinched around your middle, mouthing along the nape of your neck like he loves you. The line between instinct and desire is deceptively thin. You wonder if Shouta knows the difference, or if he equates love with the heat of your blood spilling into his mouth, seams undone by the touch of his lips.

Your legs collapse beneath you, hitting the floor. A grubby applause from the dirt dances around your knees. Shouta accepts your dead weight as though it were nothing, his wings enveloping you both in an abrupt darkness.

Minuscule scales shimmer and reflect the glaring bioluminescence radiating from his eyes. Before you is a sky soaked crimson and blood spattered stars. “Is this…” you start, voice caught in your throat. It should be harrowing. People would call it a depiction of hell. You call it beautiful.

Shouta tucks his nose into your jugular with a warm hum and you feel sharp teeth protruding beneath his lips. Neck ruffle tickles soft against your skin, keeping you tight to his torso, enough that you think he could consume you whole. He’s pleased. You can tell.

Laughter bubbles up in your chest. It’s as if you are a teenager again, sneaking out with someone to see a clear starry night. The moment is incredulously human.

A mothman does not bare his wings to anyone but his mate. Even in flight they are too fast to be seen. You are so enamoured by it that you don’t notice the shift in gravity until the force on your body lightens and your stomach drops.

You squeak. Frantically clinging to his shoulders and turning your face into his neck, Shouta makes a sound suspiciously like laughter. Your body sways in his arms as the too-corporeal trees rise to meet him. What you cannot see you listen out for; leaves rustling, groaning branches, any sign to indicate where you’ve landed.

When his wings retract the shadows do not recede. You’ve been brought to a dark place. A few metres above your head there is a long slit of light bleeding into the lofty space. You’re distinctly reminded of a grave. That thought makes your heart thump hard against your rib cage.

A calm tenor breaks the silence and you refocus on the figure above. Red eyes bleed into the darkness. Long black hair drapes over his shoulders and blends into the light fluffed ruff of his neck, reminiscent of a scarf that extends down his chest and back into his large wings, which he has tucked closely behind him.

Broad feathery antennae flicker on top of his head, so distinctly insect-like, but his body and hands are startlingly human— it would be, if not for the black tipped talons that grew from each finger and toe.

“Are you still frightened?”

You realise you’re being cradled with deliberate care, as if you might shatter. He treats you like this is the first time he has ever met another living thing. There is barely any pressure behind the claws curled at the base of your neck. All you can think is that he’s warm. Soft. Guided by wonder, inhibitions lost in a concussive fog, you reach up to cautiously touch his face.

Shouta had multiple nests. The team before you took over had planted cameras in all of them only for their recordings to be destroyed, pieces left strewn by the food hatch. It agitated him, thus you respected those wishes. But in doing so you also cut off any means of behavioural observation.

This meant you knew of them, but nothing more than that. You had no idea which nests he actually used. You had no idea how he spun them, or what they looked like from the inside.

What you have been lowered into is not a grave, though it is deep and narrow. The bedding yields, padded under your back, emanating the smell of upturned earth and petrichor.

This is his primary nest.

Your tongue feels too thick for your mouth. “You can… you can speak?”

A black tipped finger hooks into the collar of your shirt. You feel it sharp like a knife's edge, and the fabric rips with barely any pressure. Shouta snorts. And then, “Your kind is strange. Presumptuous,” he traces over the swell of your breast. “And soft”.

There’s only intent to satiate his curiosity, but you feel something dangerously warm coil low in your belly. The broad, feathered antennae atop his head curl toward you, almost prehensile in nature, as if they can sense it.

“You can’t,” words fail you as his tongue glides over your pulse. “You’ve never spoken before. You can’t blame me for being surprised”.

“That wouldn’t be logical,” he murmurs. You exhale shakily as his teeth nip gently at your lobe, pressing what could be a kiss to the shell. “It’s not as if your primitive ears would be able to hear me through the glass”.

The baritone of his voice frissons down your spine and you find yourself clenching your thighs. Shouta braces over you until he is all there is— and you are all he sees.

You argue fruitlessly in attempts to maintain self control, “We could’ve talked through the speakers”.

“We could have. But then the other humans would know this part of me,” he replies plainly. “Is that what you want?”

You’re a little embarrassed by the immediate ‘no’ that rolls onto the tip of your tongue. You bite it and let your silence answer for you. A disservice to your team and to your research— you seek truths and yet the truth is you are secretly happy that this is yours and yours alone.

Shouta huffs. He brings your foreheads together and your knees part reflexively to make room for him as he settles between them. The shine in his eyes has dimmed into a simmer. It reminds you of a pyre after the fire has burned; the glowing ash left to cool overnight.

“If I had not played along and acted beastly you wouldn’t have paid attention,” he continues. You tremble as he slots against the cradle of your hips, a suggestive pulse felt between your legs. The size of his body forces your legs wider around his waist. His cock is heavy and the heat emanates through your work pants. He doesn’t move, and he waits.

“You…” you’re breathless when it hits you. “You could’ve left all this time”.

He rises slowly at your words and tilts his head, beckoning you to continue. There is an unwavering composure about him that leaves you uneasy. You got the sense he knew your thoughts before you voiced them.

“You stayed and cooperated with our research. Even though… Some of them treated you like an animal. You could be anywhere but here”.

Shouta gives a disapproving chitter. The sound devolves into a hum. He settles a large hand on the top of your head and leans back into your space, uncomfortably close, as if to impress the answer upon you. “Here is where I am supposed to be”.

He’s not a monster, just something that wants to belong.

Your hand smooths over his cheek to his hair, the other guiding his palm to your chest where your heart sits. He squeezes at your chest, curious. Gentle fingertips brush the antennae rooted in a crown of thick black hair. The sweet resonant purr surges and you watch the touch shudder through his body in awe.

Your blood sings, reacting to his desperate call with a burst of exhilaration. A thought crosses your mind— had it been you he was chasing, or this feeling?

Was this how it felt to be a predator?

“Here. With me…” you rasp, wetting your lips as your eyes fall to his mouth. Shouta smiles and you have to temper the urge to touch his teeth. “I’ve worked here for a long time. Why wait until today?”

“Courting takes time. And though I was sure of you I knew you weren’t ready,” he rasps, rocking up against your sex. A gasp catches in your throat and his antennae flutter in response. “I can smell that you are now”.

“Smell?”

Shouta hums an affirmative. “All creatures have a cycle. Your body changes over the weeks,” the hand over your heart descends to your stomach, resting above your waistband. The repetitive stroke of his thumb is doting, almost. “Soon you will be ovulating”.

You are torn between horror and amazement. The craving to write this down was insatiable. Truthfully it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Shouta could know that— he was finely tuned to his environment. That was the entire purpose of chemoreception.

Regardless, that knowledge instills a sense of vulnerability in you. The scales felt tipped entirely in his favour and there was nothing you could hide from him. It was equally liberating and frightening.

A quiet trill pulls you from your thoughts. He must pick up on your anxiety, because mothman crowds you back against the nest and you sink further with a weak smile, your fingers threading into his fur. Wildflowers and long grass borders your periphery. You hadn’t much chance to appreciate his hard work in the dark.

“Shouta,” you faltered. Perhaps you should be more concerned that giving yourself to him was never a question. “Are you sure it’s me you want? I’m just a human”.

“I see that,” he stated dryly. “But you are my little human. My mate. This is not up for debate”.

Memories surrounding your tentative relationship over the years come to the forefront of your mind. How purposeful and gentle he was, the obvious preference for your company, his willingness to share his secrets and weaknesses just to see you satisfied.

The pregnant pause is mistaken for hesitance. Shouta brings your hand to his throat, inner wrist tickled by the plumage. Soft hair trails up his neck and thins by his jaw. Behind him, his wings unfurl and stretch. Pushing the heel up to his jugular, you feel six deliberate clicks. The rhythm of each is individual, some pitched and others deep, and the silence between is different in length, almost similar to morse code.

“What did you say?”

“Your name,” he rumbles.

There is underlying significance you aren’t privy to, yet you feel it all the same. You meet his gaze. Skin feverish, breathes coming quicker. Your hips twitch helplessly and he bites back a croon.

“Okay. Touch me, ” you slowly coil your arms around his neck and bring him into an embrace. He goes doubtlessly, engaging you with knees settled either side of your hips.

Shouta cuts your clothes off carefully and with ease. The simple hook of a talon and they tore like thin paper. His tongue, long and tube-like at the tip, glides between your breasts, flicking over your nipples and watching with fascination. It’s as though the roles have switched. You are the subject now.

You laugh breathily as he nuzzles into you, palming at your soft stomach. Shouta works his way down your body, giving a curious churring sound as more of your body reveals itself. He tears away your pants, but rather than discard them, he tucks them into the borders of the nest.

The air feels good on your skin, cool where it kisses your arousal. “Hold yourself open for me,” he says. “I want to taste you”.

An overwhelming wave of embarrassment washes over you as he guides your hands to the back of your thighs, ankles hooked over his broad shoulders. Pressure behind his claw-tipped fingers, Shouta gently pries your folds apart to demonstrate his wishes. “Like this”.

You moan, bear down on his tongue at the first lick as it glides over your clit, a shudder rolling through your body at the threat of his teeth. He descends again and again with bottomless yearning, no longer hunger, rather like an elastic compulsion pulled impossibly taut.

A pleased chitter vibrates against you. His wings extend and shudder, looming above like tapestry. “So good,” he breathes in, shameless as he noses along your cunt. “So warm. You smell even better than usual”.

The muscles in your thighs clench as the narrow tip of his tongue teases your entrance. You push down into your heels with a weak cry of complaint and he obliges, gently pushing inside you.

Your breathing falters. “Sh—Shouta,” you croak, reaching down desperately to grasp his plumage the deeper he sinks. It feels never ending, flexing and twisting experimentally as he draws out, still keeping his lips pressed up against you.

Gradually he builds a rhythm. Observing raptly from his place between your legs, his gaze never strays, gleaming when your hips buck into his mouth. It’s his expression that spurs you on— that rapt, intense desire.

Shouta stretches you on his tongue, the obscene slick sound of saliva echoing throughout his nest. The tension low in your belly coils, taut, and you feel it pulse. Your toes curl and you let out a loud, broken moan that sounds like relief.

“Don’t stop. Feels so good,” you keen, balancing right at the crest. Shouta’s pace grows anxious the closer you get, his big hands palming at your thighs, talons pinching skin. He forces them wider as he presses his weight into you with a long groan. “Yeah. That’s it, make me cum. Oh fuck—!”

A moment passes without air, yanked under by the force of it. Your body wrings tight and the tension snaps. Undone, loose at the seams as he takes you through the aftershocks quaking through your body.

You return to yourself, registering the quiet hum reverberating in your skull. Shouta nuzzles your sensitive clit before making his way up your torso. He smells like sex. His ruff, chin and cheeks are wet with arousal. You can taste yourself on his tongue as he licks over the seam of your lips, and shivers when they part to meet him.

The kiss is strange; not quite a kiss, more a press of mouths. You suppose it can’t be helped with teeth like his. His effort is far more endearing than it has any right to be.

Brief fatigue washes over you and settles into a giddy afterglow. The black spots in your vision dissipate. A short, soft chitter comes from his throat. The noise is familiar— they’re exactly like the sounds he would make when you were anxious.

“I’m okay, Shouta. You— You’re a bit too good at that,” you reassured, taking his face into your palms and feeling it in his cheeks when he smiles. The shifting wings behind his head draw your attention as they flutter. He’s near enough for you to reach out and stroke them.

They’re breathtaking. The texture is unlike anything you have ever felt before. You pause at his squirming, “Does it hurt?”

He huffed a laugh. You think that will never get old. “It doesn’t hurt”.

“Feels nice?”

“Too nice,” he says, stroking your hips. Lifting your hips, you grind lightly over his cock. You swallow, noticing how much it had grown, now completely unsheathed. Shouta reflexively chases the feeling, bucking up against your sex. You both hiss at the sensitivity.

Timidly, you ask, “Can I see?”

He nods.

The size is daunting. His cock is curved, long, but more notably it is thick. Fleshy in colour and hot, leaking a clear liquid over your hand. Ribbed around the shaft, the slight bumps slide under your palm as you bring your fist up to the narrowed head. No spikes. Good. If you met God you’d thank him.

It is crowned by sensitive skin, not unlike a human’s, but in gently pulling it back you find it reminds you more of an ovipositor. Shouta’s rumbling deepens, head hung between his shoulders. Drapes of long dark hair fall to curtain his face. His antennae quiver in place, wide red eyes looking back at you.

You feel yourself ache with unfulfilled arousal. Pressing your thighs together does nothing but tease. Shouta watches you guide his cock to the apex of your thighs, his chest heaving as you glide him through your wet folds, drenching yourself in his slick.

The cryptid pushes into you with a gentleness that is almost terrifying in its intensity— so out of place for a supposed harbinger of suffering. “Careful, little human,” he rasps, an ever present humming in his chest.

A pleasant tingling sensation begins to spread throughout your abdomen, relaxing your muscles, like sinking into the soothing heat of a hot bath. You’ve long shut off your avid questions, rendered thoughtless and pliant by the pressure. “Oh,” you exhale, struggling to keep your eyes open. He’s barely halfway in.

Shouta pulls out slowly and rocks back in, repeating the motion as you open up to him. You crane your head, jaw slack as you moan, reaching out to the immense silhouette above you. Everything about him is big. It’s all you can notice. He’s taking handfuls of you, kneading the fat at your thighs, hooking around them and pushing your knees toward your chest.

“Look at you,” his voice is thick and trembling. You whine, watching the way you swallow around him, clit swollen and twitching. “Perfect,” he rasps, the mix of your arousal dampening the fur around his base. He pulls out again, tantalisingly slow, and your legs start to shake.

“Shouta,” you choke, not knowing what it was you were asking for. He gives it to you anyway, rocking forward in one harsh movement, setting a pace that splits you in two. You can almost feel his cock is in your throat; touching parts of you you didn’t know existed; carving out space for himself and making a home of it.

The earlier mindfulness is gone. Shouta sets a divine pace. He shifts on his knees, gripping at your waist with his talons pressing into skin, pulling you down onto his cock. Praises have dwindled into a language you cannot understand, but you recognise those six successive clicks— he’s calling your name, over and over.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ah. What is—?!”

The hypothesis is reaffirmed by the sensation of him stretching you further, widening inside you, inflating as something pulses through his shaft, abandoning his body and slipping into yours. Your mouth falls open as heat prickles across your skin and what feels like a second orgasm crashes over you. You’re left suspended in a free fall that never seems to end.

It feels too good to panic about. Sperm packets or eggs or both— whatever they are, they’re smooth, cooling where they gather inside of you, and right pushing up against your sweet spot. Tremors wrack through your limbs and Shouta appears no better. His upper lip curls, wings fully presented and twitching.

Weak, you wrap your arms around his head and cradle him to your chest. Your fingers brush over the apex of his wings and with barely any exertion, he slams you back onto his cock, a loud groan drawn from his chest. His pelvis slaps against your clit and in a moment of lucidity, you feel the ground rise to meet you.

Rigidity bleeds from your muscles as you cum again, soon replaced by a wave of exhaustion. You grimace at the uncomfortable bloated feeling in your belly. Shouta is muttering, antennae curled and brushing the swell of your cheeks. You can hear his voice. Muffled, as if you were under water, “You did well, little flame”.

Thinking aloud, you mumble, “What if they don’t take?”

He nudges your chin, gathering you into his arms to cocoon you both, “I’ll make sure they do”.

-

He nudges your chin, gathering you into his arms to cocoon you both, “I’ll make sure they do”.

[xoxoxoxenia]

the way kazuha would absolutely love doggy style. he’s be so entranced by how pretty your body looks: hair draped down your back or tied up, your back arches so perfectly and above all, your ass that he couldn’t take his eyes off. with every movement of his hips, the fat of your ass jiggled so perfectly kazuha couldnt help but be in awe. something he’ll get so wrapped up in how good you feel he won’t even realize his hips had stopped and he’s just taking in how good you feel wrapped around him. it’s only until you bounce yourself on his cock that he’s too taken aback and can’t handle how good it all feels. just whispers and whimpers of how good it feels and how much he missed this. his hand to your hip the whole time to keep himself from completely slipping. he might not even bother to move his hips again with you bouncing on his cock, doing all the work for him. only until he cums deep inside you with your fully seated on him that he finally lets go.

[bllk-after-dark]

ARCHANGEL.

an angel of greater than ordinary rank.

pairing. michael kaiser x fem!reader

content warnings. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, nsfw, heavy christian mythology/theology, sex on sacred ground (church), kaiser is the archangel michael, reader is an altar server, sex on altar, loss of virginity, fingering, missionary & doggy style, not proofread/edited

summary. you've been serving in the st. michael church for many years, a simple duty in your life and yet you pray to him, the patron of the church you serve. and one day, heavenly flesh made mortal, he stands in front of you and asks for a serving.

word count. 3.9k

fallen angel. masterlist

Altar serving was something you do every sunday. Not because you loved it, that has passed a long time ago, when you were still a kid in awe, but because it was a duty and at this point, part of your routine. It was part of your life, born into a christian family that went to church every sunday. Your father has been an altar server too, long before they allowed girls to serve, and now your younger siblings were too. It was tradition, and tradition was not meant to be broken. 

You were one of the eldest in the group, guiding the younger ones through their service, whispering their tasks during the mass. Having almost ten years of altar serving under your belt, you were not only allowed to help prepare and teach the new generation, but also assist the acolyte every sunday.

And while you may not love altar serving, it still brought you peace being here, in the church that has been named after the Archangel Michael. Saint Michael Church, a relatively big one for the small number of people in your commune. An old one too, with the ceilings filled with paintings with angels, but especially Archangel Michael. In fact, this church was the only one with paintings of angels who had other wing colors than white in your country.

This attracted some tourists, but the church was never overrun. It was a shame, then you often let your gaze wander during your servings, with your back straight and hands on your lap, taking in the Archangel Michael with his flaming sword, long blonde hair that takes the color of the sky at the tips and the feathers of his wings ruffled, blood and dirt sprinkled across them, but it could never hide the true beauty of his wings. Even the statues had wings that span at least two meters, and their tips, just like his hair, dipped in blue. Here and there was a golden feather found, as if someone had dripped molten gold on the wings. 

Yes, the art in the church you served was unusual but truly beautiful. You may not believe in the Holy Father, not like your parents did, but you did find peace here. Maybe it was the sheer presence the angel radiated in his own church, maybe it was because you had so many memories here, practically grown up with him gazing down at you, but you liked it here. 

You may no longer love the altar serving like you did as a child, but you still loved to stand here on holy ground, where only the priest and other servers were allowed, so near to the altar, so near to him. It made you feel special, maybe just for an hour, where you stood in a white robe, bringing bread and wine before the Archangel Michael. One of the statues was on the altar, taking more than half of the sacred table, leaving just enough space for the bible and the communion to be placed. It was a true artwork, just like all the other statues and paintings in the church, but the artist paid special attention to this one.

It was unknown why it stood here, when normally only a holy cross would be placed, but the statue has always been here and no one dared to change its place. You didn’t mind, because most sundays you could take in every detail of the artwork, sitting near to the altar. 

And like many sundays in the past and possibly in the future, you’re the one helping cleaning up. Blowing out the candles, collecting the left behind songbooks and of course cleaning up after your fellow altar servers. 

Yet unlike other sundays, you’re alone. The acolyte had to leave early, very apologetic but still asking you to finish everything up. You couldn’t deny her request, fully knowing how stressful her private life was with her family. And so you start doing all the task, a bit slower than usual now that you’re alone. 

Cleaning up and tidying the altar is the last thing on your list and then you could finally go home. You watch your steps, carrying the bucket with wine first, then followed by all the other things you had to lock in the safe, since they’re made out of gold. In the end, you would put a big white clothing over the statue, preventing the light and dust from damaging the artwork. But you aren’t that far yet, still carrying bowls until the communion cup is left. 

A gasp left your lips and the cup fell out of your hands, the sound of its impact on the marble floor ringing in your ears. Wings ruffled, feathers shifted and suddenly he looked at you. The statue made flesh. Archangel Michael. 

He was kneeling on the altar, a white robe clinging on his frame, no sword or armor in sight, while his wings started to unfold themselves. So pretty, you could only think. The occasional golden feather almost glowing in the candle light, silver ones shimmering, white feathers almost blinding you but it was the blue ones that held your focus. 

A chuckle ripped you out of the trance you were, enchanted by the beauty of the wings- real wings. He was grinning at you, eyes lit up in delight and a grin spreading on his lips. 

“Little mortal, I see you’re serving on Holy Grounds named after mine,” he says, voice oh so angelic but also raspy, as if a mere whisper. But he speaks so clearly, his words ringing in your ears and you blink, shake your head, trying to get rid of- what is happening? 

“I- I am… your Holiness,” you try. You don’t know how to address him, no one has ever told you how to address an angel. But he just shakes his head, another chuckle escaping his mouth and slips off the altar. He’s barefoot, you realize and he strides over to you, the end of his wings dragging over the floor. They seem heavy, you realize and as if he heard your thoughts (maybe he did, he is an angel after all, can they read the minds of mortals-) his right wing stretches first and the left one soon follows, and so you end up staring at the pair of wings, looming over you and showing hints of the true might Archangel Michael owns. 

“You have no need for this, my devotee,” and your heart skips a few beats, eyes going wide when he calls you his devotee. Never have you thought of yourself as one, but now he utters those words, how can you deny it? 

“I wish for you to call me Michael, it is my given name after all.” You can only nod and he seems satisfied by that. He stops a few steps in front of you, so near but so far away. Your brain tries to progress the situation, try to understand what your eyes see, but it’s your body that reacts in the end. 

You sink on your knees, hands clasped in front of your chest and you bow your head. 

“I am not worthy,” you murmur, because you aren’t. You do not believe in god, you do not pray to him, all your prayers, if you ever pray, go to him, to the Archangel Michael. “I am not worthy to see you, your- Michael. I am not worthy to be in your presence, I am-” The words stop and you press your eyes shut. A hand on your cheek makes you snap them open again, not being able to stop the gasp that leaves your mouth. 

“Oh, but you are, little devotee of mine. You who are the only one who truly serves me, ever since she was a young girl. You are the most worthy of all.” He kneels in front of you, and still, he towers over your frame, his wings frozen in movement. At this moment, he looks so angelic and sinful at the same time. You shudder at your thoughts, suddenly infesting your mind, spreading and creating pictures in front of your eyes. 

The ruffle of feathers makes you snap out of those filthy thoughts, eyes going wide when he pulls you closer, practically lifting you up. You’re frozen in his arms and can only watch in silence how his wings curl around the both of you. 

“There is also no need for you to kneel,” he rasps right next to your ear and you shudder, suddenly aware of your hands placed on his half-nacked chest. “A follower so loyal… is allowed to stand in my presence.” But before you can answer him, before you can ask him all the questions you have, he sneaks his arm around your waist and pulls you even closer. A sudden gasp escapes your lips once more and you tremble in his arms, when he suddenly lets his hands wander to your neck. 

“A follower so beautiful… little one, will you do me one more service?” He asks this as if you have the choice to refuse him. So you nod, thinking he will ask you to bring bread and wine, or to proclaim your belief in him. 

But then he tilts your chin up and you stare at his beautiful blue eyes, enhanced by his long lashes and eyeliner. Who would’ve thought angels have eyeliner, you think hysterically, yet your thoughts go silent, when he presses his lips against yours. You don’t react, your whole body frozen as the angel continues to kiss you. And then the arm around your waist pulls you even closer, bodies pressed against each other and his wings curling tighter against the two of you. 

Your eyes flutter shut, and you lean onto him, your arms circling around his neck. Your fingers brush over feathers and he moans against your lips, so sweet and sinful. And then- and then you finally return his desperate kiss, his tongue sneaking into your mouth, and you lose yourself. The simple soft kiss turns into something filthy, with your panting and his soft noises and oh what noises he makes. Small gasps, choked moans, all because he’s kissing you. You, nothing more but an altar server, nothing more than a mortal. Leaning closer, you let your lips move against his, inexperienced but it doesn’t matter. Not when he lowly groans or when you pant against his lips, trying to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe it. A man kissing and touching you, for the first time in your life-

“Allow me, devotee of mine. Allow me to see your naked skin, allow me to taste your flesh, allow me to feel your love,” he rasps, close to begging, eyes oh so pleading and you can’t deny him. You would never deny him and if it’s his wish to see, to taste and feel you, then you will strip naked, spread your legs and love him with all your heart and soul. 

“Michael,” you whisper, close to his lips and press yourself closer to him. “Michael, take and use me to your wishes, and my heart will listen. I will love you, with mind, heart and soul, and only you.” His pupils are blown wide when you whisper your oath, binding your whole life and soul to him. You don’t even realize what you’ve done, but he does. He feels it, down to his core, the oath you gave to him, on his sacred ground. It makes his essence soar, his wings flutter and his cock harden. 

A squeak escapes your lips, when he lifts you up, marching over to the altar and lays you down, all while he drapes his body over you, wings unfolded and feathers gleaming in the candle light. His breath fans over your face and your eyes widen, when he slowly crawls on the holy table. 

“Michael, shouldn’t we-,” you try to ask him, mind no longer clouded by his kisses but he just slams his lips on yours again and you forget your protests. Throwing your arms around him, your hands start to wander, hesitant at first to touch his bare skin. He grinds his hips against yours in response and he finally lets you breathe. Only now do you realize that he’s propping himself up on his arms, when he starts touching you with one hand as well. You shiver when he touches you below your shirt, riding up the fabric while he continues to ravish you. Moans leave your lips and you lift your legs to wrap them around his waist, trying to keep him close. 

Canting your hips up, you grind onto him but it’s not enough. A whine escapes your lips, you want him closer, you want to touch all of him, you want him in you. 

“Normally I am someone who is patient, but for you,” Michael starts to speak, voice raspy next to your neck, where he has pressed kisses and bites on your sensitive skin. “I want to take you, here on this holy table, here in my church and I will.” He rips your shirt off first, fabric flying off without resistance and you gulp at his casual show of strength. His eyes fixate on your simple bra, hiding your tits from him. 

Michael looks feral to you, wings shifting every second, pupils blown wide but completely focused on you and your body below him. He doesn’t hesitate and rips off your bra, completely ignoring the fact he could simply open it and latches immediately on your right tit, sucking on your nipples and gently pulling on the other. 

You gasp and moan at the new sensations, skin feverish and hot, while you bury a hand in his blond locks. He bites you and you tug his hair, making him groan while you beg for more. It’s new, it’s different, it’s filthy and dangerous, lying on the altar of the church you serve in, half naked while the Archangel Michael leaves his marks on your skin. 

If anyone could see you right now… you and your whole family would lose face in the community. Even more than that. But you didn’t care, only caring about Michael’s hands and lips on your body, feeling him and his body and- 

He suddenly kneels up, your own legs still between his, over you and shrugs off his white robe, revealing his whole form to you. Your eyes widen and you blush when he takes his cock in his hand without shame, slowly stroking it and watching you with half lidded eyes. His wings are once again spread and they flutter, when you sit up and place your hands on his thighs all while claiming his lips. Curiously, you start kneading his muscles, letting your hands wander until you can finally pull him closer. But he has other plans for you, sneaking his own hands to your waist and lifting you up, only to turn and seat you on his lap. He vanishes your last clothes as well, leaving you naked against him. 

A pant leaves your mouth when he stretches his body over yours again, rutting his hips against yours, his cock against your pussy, making you gasp when he spreads your wetness and even touches your clit. 

“Oh lord,” he groans close to your neck, lips ghosting over your skin once again and you feel so overwhelmed, overwhelmed with his presence, his touch- 

“Michael,” you moan, a desperate sob bubbling out when his cock continues to rub against your pussy and not in you. “Please,” you start to beg. “Please, take me- Michael, have me, I’m ready, please-” and you are. Ready and open for him, your untouched and virgin body ready to have him but he just doesn’t take you. Tears spill in your eyes, frustration filling your mind and your body, but he just slowly continues to caress your body, hands wandering until his fingers dip into your pussy. 

You cling onto him, nails ranking down his body, and you beg. You beg and plead, but he ignores you, humming when his fingers finally enter your pussy and start massaging your warm walls. It’s not really new to you, you’ve touched yourself several times, always in the darkness of your room, but it never brought you to an orgasm. 

Yet Michael’s fingers make your cunt tingle, your thighs shake when his movements become faster and your moans louder. And when his thumb presses on your clit, you shriek, and start rutting against his hand. “More,” you pant, cheeks flushed and your legs spreading even more, so close-

He claims your lips, mouth parting and tongues dancing, while he presses another finger into you. With a gasp you remove your lips from his, eyes closing in ecstasy and head falling back. Another press of his thumb and a bite into your neck has you shrieking again, cumming for the first time in your life, on the fingers of Michael. 

“What a darling you are,” he grumbles lowly, licking your reddened juices from his fingers while you try to blink the stars in your sight away. You whine his name, when he doesn’t touch you again and only stares at you. “You’re such a pretty creature, all for me and for me only.” He leans closer, his mouth almost kissing yours but only brushing against it. 

“To think I was the first to ever touch you like this… oh, little devotee of mine, you’ve pleased me so well and you don’t even know it.” His words make you whimper, or maybe even his teasing lips that don’t kiss you. In the end he does, making you taste yourself and you can’t help but moan. 

“Can you please- please, in me?” you try to ask, suddenly shy in actually voicing your desires. Getting fucked on an altar, what was wrong with you-

Head thrown back again, mouth wide open in a silent scream and he’s suddenly in you. Cock already moving, slowly but surely working into you, more and more. You just cling onto him, gasps leaving your lips and babbled pleas. 

His hips move slowly first, so you could get used to his insane size, but it doesn’t take long until he pistons into you, driving hard and fast, and you can only hold onto him, legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. 

You can feel yourself getting close again, your voice echoing in the empty church and- his wings fluttering above you. Oh god, his wings. The feathers were ruffled, chaotic and they seemed to spasm, every time you clenched around him. 

“Beloved mine, look at me,” he says to you, but you don’t hear him, so close to your orgasm and eyes fixated on his wings. 

“I said,” he suddenly spat, voice ringing in your ears, “look at me.” The feral look in his eyes, his widened pupils and wings looming over you make you cum again. Your whole body shakes, all while you scream his name. 

Instead of letting you rest, he grabs your right leg and hoists it over his shoulder, picking his pace up and chasing his own orgasm. You beg him to stop, oversensitive to a point where it’s almost hurting, your hands scrambling for anything to hold yourself but he doesn’t listen, doesn’t stop, fucking you stupid. 

Tears start pooling in your eyes and your whimpers and moans turn into sobs. Michael is a monster, for fucking you so hard, fucking you so good, destroying you and your pussy. You don’t know if you want him to stop or not, want him to continue until you cum again or let your poor, aching pussy rest. 

He doesn’t let you rest at all, only leaves your pussy for mere seconds, to turn your body on your stomach and you try to pick yourself up, but your limbs are weak. In the end it’s him who picks you up, hands on your waist, planting you on your knees and hands, only to drive into you again. 

The hard material of the altar already makes your knees ache, but you forget about the pain as Michael fucks into you again. It’s fast and hard, punching the air out of your lungs and leaves you moaning and crying for more. Tears are running down your cheeks, and you have to lower your arms, now leaning on your elbows. You beg for him to finally let you cum, you beg for him to cum, to touch you, to hold you and he gives you all that, if not more. 

Draping himself over you, he whispers praise into your ear and you shudder, when his fingers find your clit again. 

“One more, my devotee. Just one more, for me. Come for me, my beloved.” Hearing his praise, calling you beloved, calling you his and the fact he’s still fucking you, paired with his circling fingers has you cry out and cum with a shudder. 

Your legs shake, your whole body seems to quiver, but he holds you strong and steady, only to follow you. His hips pressing onto yours, he fills you up and you can hear the rustling feathers over you, while swears and praise fall from his swollen lips. 

Thrusting into you with his slowly softening dick, he draws some last whimpers out of you. It’s soft, how he turns you in his arms and keeps you close, his one wing draping over the both of you and hiding you from the world. He presses kisses on your front, cheeks and nose, leaving your lips for the last. Hands wander over your sweaty body and you blush under his half lidded gaze, suddenly ashamed of your nudity. 

“There is no need for that, devotee of mine. You’ve taken me, and this well.” His voice suddenly drops. “You’ve taken me so well and you will take me again. And again and again.” His words make your eyes go wide and suddenly, you realize what exactly happened. 

You just fucked someone on an altar. In a church. You got fucked by an angel, by Archangel Michael himself, on a freaking altar. You got ravished and stolen of your innocence– Michael took your virginity, here in a church and you had sex. 

You can feel his cum dripping out of you, slowly running down and you press your legs together. Why did you suddenly want to make sure no drop of his cum would leave your pussy? Why did you have the sudden desire to- 

But Michael doesn’t seem to realize your dilemma, still peppering kisses on your skin and face, absolutely blissful in the afterglow. 

“I apologize for being so harsh but my desires got the better of me,” he suddenly speaks up again, completely ignoring his previous words. “Yet… will you allow me to take you again?” Seeing your surprised look, he chuckles and gives you a small peck on the lips. 

“Not today, I shall let you rest,” he assures you, as if he just didn’t completely destroy you. But you didn’t care. The promise of another fucking, of another time like that, where he made you scream and cry, makes you shudder. You snuggle closer to him, wiggling your body against his, while the altar uncomfortably presses against your other side. Yet you don’t care, not when you’re being held by the most gorgeous man in the world, an angel and maybe… someone you would learn to love. 

But that is something to worry about in the future. Now you enjoyed his fleeting touches, listening and blushing to his praise, oh his praise, and the warmth of the wing that acted like a blanket.

taglist. @scftbunni , @kaiser-samaa , @mikeysonlywhore , @dervaaas , @mi-kage , @yumik00001 , @miraculouscorazone

if you wish to join the taglist for this series, please send this blog a message/ask or comment below the masterpost! all other applications for joining the taglist will be ignored.

anne. woo, i finally posted it. i'm so glad i have this monstrosity finally out and no longer in my drafts... already fearing the next part. dunno why i'm doing this to myself but then i think about angel!kaiser and i no longer question my sanity. enjoy!

[bellona-caeles]

i’ll treat you like a queen king !nsfw

jason todd x amazon!reader

It’s one of these nights, where you kiss Jason slowly but truly, letting your hands wander across his body while he mirrors your actions, praise already falling from his lips. You’re still clothed on his laps, but he’s ready to worship you, showering you with beautiful words and pet names, all while he draws moans and whines out from you. He will have his head buried between your legs, your thighs clenching and his tongue diving deep into you.

Jason loves to treat you like a queen, because you are one. It doesn’t matter that you don’t wear a crown or weren’t born into the Royal Amazon family, you’re his queen, his to praise, to cherish and to treasure. He has already plans, like always, for you to lay back and make you cum on his tongue and fingers first, before slowly fucking you, watching how you shake and sob under him, before cuddling you to sleep, all while mumbling about how good you are for him.

Yes, Jason has plans for tonight, but so have you. Today you want to spoil Jason stupid, making his thighs quiver and watch how he tears up, making him moan and cry, while you play his body like a fiddle.

“Let me treat you like a king today, love,” you say and his head drops back, a mumbled fuck escaping his lips and it’s the answer you wanted. “Let me treat you like a king, just for tonight.”

taglist. @kunigod

BELLONA CAELES 2023

[bllk-after-dark]

dirty secrets.

pairing. itoshi rin x fem!reader

content warnings. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, nsfw, soft dom!rin, afab reader, she/her pronouns used, petnames, dirty talk, creampies, slut shaming, slight exhibitionism, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering

“That’s it, sweetheart.” Rin groans against your neck, hands gripping your waist tightly from where he has you bent over the counter. His hips stutter against yours as he sloppily finishes inside of you and a contented sigh leaves your lips when you feel the rush of warmth filling you up. 

You press back into Rin even though he’s already as deep as he can go, but he’s pulling away the next second and sliding your panties back up your legs until they’re snugly in place. His large hands smooth down the back of your legs and up again before he steps back and lets you stand up. 

When you do, his cum starts slowly seeping out of you and into the crotch of your panties, wet and warm. He watches you with a knowing look as you press your knees together and tug on the end of your skirt. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip at the feeling and his sharp eyes follow the movement closely. 

“Rin,” you whine as you stumble after him towards the front door. “Do I really have to do this?”

“Was it not your idea?” he responds flatly, holding the door open while you step outside before closing it behind you and locking it. 

“Yeah, I guess. But-“

“Then be good. Don’t let any of it go to waste.”

His tone is absolute as more of his spend leaks out of you and soaks the fabric between your thighs on the short walk to the car, and when you sit down on the leather seat it presses against your skin and you have to hold back the moan that threatens to escape the back of your throat. 

It’s messy, you can feel it sticking to the inside of your thighs and squishing between your folds. It should be gross, but your chest hitches at the way it lights a fire in the pit of your stomach. 

When Rin gets into the driver's seat and notices the way your legs are gently rubbing together he’s quick to place a hand on your thigh to keep you still. His hand is warm against your skin and it has you biting your lip. He backs out of the driveway and onto the road without sparing you another glance. 

Even with his hand holding your leg steady, it’s impossible to ignore the dull throbbing of your clit and unconsciously start rocking your hips forward in a pathetic attempt to find any sort of friction against the car seat. 

He notices this almost immediately and tightens his grip until you gasp and halt your  small movements, glancing out of the corner of your eye to find him glaring down at you. 

“Behave.” Rin orders sternly. You nod and apologize meekly, fixing your gaze on the road and trying to tune out the pleasure that burns hotly between your legs. 

An unbearable fifteen minute car ride later you’re forced to spend the next couple of hours following your boyfriend around as he runs errands with a distracting wet mess between your legs. 

It sticks to your skin with every step you take and you’re unusually silent the entire time, brain clouded with a thick haze at the feeling of your inner thighs slipping together. Rin watches you closely, noticing the way you waddle for a few steps every time you kneel down for a moment and the way you keep staring up at him with need written all over your pretty face. 

You’re not expecting a figure to come flying around the corner of an aisle and nearly knock the two of you off of your feet as they throw both arms around your shoulders in a half hug. 

“If it isn’t Rin and y/n!” a familiar voice exclaims cheerfully by your ear. You tense up before realizing it’s just Bachira a second later. On the other side of him, Rin clicks his tongue and shoots him a glare. “What do you want?”

“You’re always so grouchy!” Bachira laughs lightheartedly and jostles you both with his arms again. “I'm just here for a few things, but I saw you guys and wanted to say hello.”

“Hi.” Rin says tonelessly. Bachira turns his beaming smile in your direction, clearly waiting for you to greet him as well, but you’re staring ahead with a distant look on your face. 

When he had first thrown himself onto you, the impact of Bachira’s hug had caused the very last bit of Rin’s cum to leak out of you. You immediately tuned out what the other two were saying as the feeling made your head start to spin. A small amount had started to drip down your inner thigh and Bachira’s sharp eyes caught on to the flush of your cheeks and the way you pressed your legs together. 

Rin follows his gaze before ducking out of his hold and grabbing Bachira’s shirt, tugging him away from you with a little more force than necessary. 

Bachira, always the one to find amusement in situations such as this, bats his eyes innocently and shoots Rin a confused look before turning his attention back to you. 

“Y/n? Everything okay?” 

Rin reaches out to grab your hand and pulls you into his chest before you can answer. “She’s not feeling well.” he lies, jaw clenched tightly in annoyance. “We’re leaving.”

Bachira doesn’t even get a chance to respond before Rin is leading you to the front of the store. 

When he drags you back to the car on the empty side of the parking lot, he tugs you away from the passenger door and pushes you down onto the back seat before following in and closing the door behind him. He crawls over your body where you’re leaning back on your elbows and shoves his hands between your knees to spread your legs apart and expose you. 

The cold air against the damp crotch of your panties makes you sharply inhale through your teeth. Rin’s eyes darken at the sight between your thighs, pupils blown wide when they meet yours. He looks like he wants to devour you. 

You moan softly as hand slips under the waistband and his fingers slip through the mess, gliding through your folds with no resistance. Rin exhales heavily against your neck, rubbing slick circles into your clit while you gasp and whine. 

Your hips twitch helplessly as he finally gives you the relief you’ve been aching for all day, hands reaching up to grip onto his shoulders as his fingers work you into bliss. 

“Rin,” you whimper as he slips two fingers into you with ease, using his cum as lubricant. He fucks it back into you slowly, fingertips mercilessly dragging against your walls. 

“You’re such a slut,” he groans against your neck. “Walking around with my cum dripping out of you all day.”

A stuttered moan forces its way out of you at his words. 

“My slut.”

His pace is unforgiving as his fingers piston in and out of your pussy mercilessly, sticky and creating a bigger mess out of you. Your back arches up off of the seat, legs flexing at the sudden onslaught of pleasure. A mixture of his name and warbled pleads for more are falling from your lips as your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

Rin, who had already been achingly hard long before he pulled you out of the store, grinds himself down into the seat desperately, heat twisting tightly in his gut as he fingers you ruthlessly. Every time he feels the head of his cock catch on the seam of his jeans he grunts and his grip on your hips tightens. 

“Rin, I- I’m gonna-“ you try warning him as the coil in your stomach begins to snap. 

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” Rin asks huskily, staring down at you with half lidded teal eyes. “Go ahead, let go.”

“Be a good little slut.” 

With that your mind goes blank and a choked sob sounds as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. Watching you release around his fingers is finally what sends Rin over the edge, and he barely has enough time to pull his cock out of his pants and push it into your twitching walls before he’s choking on a groan while he fills you up a second time that day. 

You’re still riding it out when he bottoms out in you and your vision starts to go black at the way it drags out your high until you’re gasping and convulsing under him. 

As you both try to catch your breath, Rin slowly pulls out of you and quickly pushes your underwear back up your legs and over your hips, once again making you feel his release as it leaks out of you and onto the thin fabric. 

His hand reaches out to cup the side of your face and he leans forward to place a soft kiss on your forehead, your nose, and then finally your lips. 

“Okay?” he asks tentatively. 

“Mhm,” you confirm quietly, legs threatening to close at the dampness back between your legs. 

“Let's go home then.”

Rin carefully pulls himself out of the car and helps you to your feet so you can plop down in the passenger seat, legs still weak and twitching with aftershocks. A small whimper leaves your throat when you make contact with the seat, feeling it all press against you again. 

Rin smirks at you knowingly as he reaches over you to buckle your seat belt, and you give him your best attempt at a frown that you’re sure looks much more like a pout as he finally drives you back home. 

aly. uhhhhh sunny's fault again

[bllk-after-dark]

wet an‘ ready for me.

pairing. shidou ryusei x fem!reader

content warnings. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, nsfw, clubbing, grinding, exhibitionism

“Let me do unholy things to you,” he whispers close to your ear, his breath that fans over your neck making you shudder. “Unholy but oh so good things…” He murmurs, lips now touching your hot skin and you lean closer. Closer than you already are, grinding on the stranger in the club, light flashing across the room, the heavy bass shaking the ground.

A gasp escapes your lips when he nibbles on your ear, and then licks a small part on your neck, only to latch his own lips on your skin. With a moan, you throw your head back, closing your eyes and enjoying the way he touches you. Eager, greedy, hungry. You sway your hips and reach back with one arm, latching your hand into his hair.

“Fuckin’ hell, darling. If you continue like this, I will take you right here.” His voice is raspy and it makes your pussy flutter. God, what would you give for this man to take you, without any remorse, in the middle of dancing people, where anyone could see you.

His hands begin to wander, kneading your muscles and riding up your skirt. It’s dangerous, but it’s exactly what you want.

“What- oh, Shidou,” you moan, when his other hand squeezes your tit, only to pull on your nipple right through your shirt. But it isn’t enough, and you guide his hand down to your tummy, where he lifts the shirt and splays his hand across your stomach.

“That’s it, angel, moan for me,” he chuckles and bites down, making you once again shudder in his arms. Why is he so- why does Shidou Ryusei know how your body and mind works, what makes you whimper and moan, what makes your cunt so fucking wet in nothing but a few minutes?

“Goin’ to take you home with me and make you cry on my cock, I fuckin’ promise you that,” and then, like a fucking sadist, the hand on your thigh suddenly cups your pussy and he presses his thumb on your clit. He presses hard and drags his thumb slowly down, until he can feel the wet patch on your panties.

“So wet an’ ready for me… darling, I’m going to ravish you.”

Shidou Ryusei is a man of his promise, and he definitely held his many promises that night.

anne. send me to horny jail at this point ;-; my corruption kink is showing and i don’t like it

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

— EVERYTHINGS BETTER WHEN YOU'RE HONEST

★ tags ;; fem!reader (reader wears a skirt and generally performs femininity), friends to lovers, aged-up characters, professional athlete isagi, loss of virginity, sexually inexperienced isagi x sexually experienced reader, handjobs, oral (f!recieving) (isagi gets a dick kiss tho), themes of guilt kinda, unprotected sex / creampies, reader is sexually confident. little to no prep for penetration. an i love you and a single petname in there.

★ wc ;; 11.5k (im so...)

★ summary ;; you notice early on that isagi is always holding back something. the deeper into your relationship you go, the more you wish he'd let loose.

★ a/n ;; PLEASE READ BLUELOCK PLEASE. i love you isagi yoichi. pls let me have ur viriginity babies. title from the song pears by weston estate!

also, the little art exhibit is inspired by a real thing, the white gallery installation by studio 400

It was impossible to not know Isagi Yoichi. 

After the existence of BlueLock was released to the public and demonstrated on national T.V. - the enigma of Isagi Yoichi bloomed like a flower to sports fans everywhere. With the looks of an average Japanese teenager but the eyes of a demon - he quietly proclaimed only one thing. 

“We will—no, that’s not quite right. I will lead Japan to victory in the U20 World Cup.” 

Post the incredible defeat of the Japanese U20 by Bluelock, Bluelock itself launched into reality TV and challenged U20 teams across the globe in order to hone their members' talents. In addition to the rigorous training and plenty of conflicts were a group of players informed only by their ego. A withstanding hunger to win, unlike anything the country had seen before. 

Isagi Yoichi became the face of that ego. In less than a year, he fulfilled his promise at the U20 World Cup and landed a final crushing blow - putting Japan at the face of soccer for the first time in decades. 

Of course, he wasn’t the only one. Despite Bluelocks philosophy, soccer is a team sport meaning there’s more than one face worthy of note. All of the players were talented with an almost equal spotlight in media and often took to interviewing together for the sake of publicity. It’d take an idiot not to notice that the Bluelock players were a cut above the rest though. 

Whatever happened before the reality show set air created players unlike anything you’ve ever seen. As someone who only considers yourself a casual soccer fan at best, your own interest in Bluelock came as something of a surprise. 

For better or for worse, you saw Yoichi Isagi everywhere. On the labels of sports drinks, on cardboard cutouts in front of equipment shops, on posters in bars, or on your kid brother's bedroom walls. 

Through his media presence, you often felt he was unreadable. Likable, awkwardly charismatic, sometimes even playful. 

But there was always something else there. In the way he spoke about soccer or about becoming the greatest striker in the world. You thought everyone got the same vibe. 

But whenever you asked, “Hey, don’t you think that guys…kinda weird?” 

You were met with the same dismissive laugh. Aren’t all celebrities weird? or Isagi’s the most normal on his team, though. 

It always left you doubtful. Maybe you were misreading it after all. He did seem nice. Him being weird didn’t mean he was bad, but there was just something about him that you couldn’t get your mind off of.

It wasn’t about his play style or even related to soccer. There’s already plenty of analysis on that. In terms of game intelligence, he’s ranked exceptionally high. Fantastic spatial awareness. Average build and height but incredible stamina in order to be up to standard. But whatever you felt when you watched him couldn’t really be summed up by any of that, because there was often no reason to look at him above the rest. 

It felt like a clever trick of the universe that you’d end up encountering him in the wild. That you’d go so far as to have him as your boyfriend and that you actually like him. 

It was only because of that you could assert it so firmly, he’s a freak of nature among all else. A perfect fit for the demons on the Japanese National Team, a perfect descendant of Bluelock. 

__

The first time you met Isagi wasn’t worthy of note. Your first truly important memory together was his confession to you, months later. 

It happens in a tunnel in Shinjuku. A place you wouldn’t normally find yourself in. It’s not often you travel to Tokyo. You’re only here because you came to watch Isagi’s game, and Isagi told you Shinjuku is a fun place to explore. 

He goes where the wind takes him, and you follow him in earnest. He said he found this place a little earlier with Bachira. The deeper you go, the darker it gets - and as a consolation, he tugs you along by your sleeve so you don’t get lost. 

Somehow, after threading through different streets, you stop at what looks like an abandoned tunnel. There’s a little more light down here, but you can tell it’s not really a place where you should be trespassing. He seems non-plussed, a familiar smile on his face that has you following him anyway. You listen when he tells you to watch your step. 

The sun hasn’t set completely, the world painted in a vibrant shade of blue. It’s cold, the early Autumn season has you tucking your chin into your hoodie to keep warm. 

But you get down to where Isagi wants to show you. A place full of concrete and overgrown leaves that could only exist somewhere like Shinjuku. It’s dark, but all the lights of the streets pour down through different cracks. Just enough that you can still see Isagi’s face illuminated in it, something that makes your stomach twist. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you smile when he turns back to look at you. 

“It’s in here,” He says, excitement bursting in his voice “Come on,”

You follow him into a tunnel, the walls around you both in a circular arch. You can’t see anything like that. But Isagi comes to your rescue, phone in hand. He turns the flashlight on as high as it can go. 

All over the walls is artwork. Graffiti art, but art all the same. Particularly, flowers. They’re beautiful and vibrant, strangely detailed for street art - colored in bright shades of fuchsia, purple, yellow, and green. Everything is outlined in black, and there are tags hidden between leaves and in the empty space.

It’s beautiful. Beautiful in the way you find things beautiful, the messy coloring and hard lines. Done in a style Isagi knows you like, his flashlight shining up to give you a better view. With your jaw agape, you nearly forget who’s next to you until you hear his footsteps echo behind you. 

His presence is comforting. A familiar but unfamiliar person, when you look back you can see him looking at you. 

“It’s nice, right? Seemed like something you’d like,” 

“We’re trespassing,” You say first, drowned by an emotion you can’t name “You’re a big-time athlete and we’re trespassing in a tunnel so you can show me art you thought I’d like. Ridiculous,” 

Isagi shrugs sheepishly.

“We’ll be fine. You like it?” 

He’s unbelievable. 

“Of course I like it,” 

“Nice. I knew you would.” 

There’s a brief, silent moment where you’re too overwhelmed to say anything nice. You kind of want to shake the guy by the shoulders, to say something about how you’ve spent the last few months spending frivolous amounts of time with him. You want to say a lot of things. That he’s sincerely a weird guy, and you think he should cut his hair soon, and that you still have the piece of paper he wrote his number down on from those months ago. 

But nothing really comes out as you stare at him and he stares back at you. His eyes are deep and blue but shiny. Visible even in the darkness, you let your gaze linger on his face. 

“I’m glad Bachira forced me to give you my number,” He says, all at once.

“So that’s what happened,” You say with a laugh, hands in your pockets “That’s why the numbers are so shaky. Were you nervous?” 

“Yeah,” He says honestly “I couldn’t remember the last time I even interacted with a girl. I didn’t even have friends who were girls in high school.” 

“Did girls scare you?” 

“Ah, a little.” 

“Do I scare you?” You ask, cheeky. Interested because even until now, you can’t tell how Isagi really sees you. 

“You don’t scare me,” He concludes, head in the clouds. He glances down at you “But uh, I guess it’s weird.” 

You give him a look, curious for his explanation. 

“Hm. It’s like soccer.” 

“Don’t compare me to soccer, jackass.” 

“I don’t have anything else to compare it to,” He says defensively, pushing his bangs back but not refuting you “It’s not that I’m scared of you. It’s a me thing.” 

“I’ll let you use soccer to explain just this once,” 

“Uh… it’s still pretty hard. I guess it’s just intense,” 

“What is?” 

“Liking you,” He says easily, before catching himself and having his eyes widen. You freeze, then grin. 

“Oh?” 

He covers a face with his hand. He’s so embarrassed he’s pink, but it suits him. You feel your heart do a nasty flutter. No matter how smug you pretend to be, seeing him like that leaves you nervous too. 

“It was supposed to be a lot cooler than that,” He admits halfway through a sigh. You giggle. 

“Is that why you brought me here?” 

He looks away and you laugh. 

“Mm, fine. No prying. Finish your thought first.” 

“It probably wouldn’t make any sense unless you were in my head. But sometimes it’s like—I didn’t know I was capable of something like that until it happens.” 

“You thought you’d never have a girlfriend?” 

“I thought it would feel different than how it does,” He tells you, looking at your face “I thought liking someone would be less complicated I guess,” 

“Why would it be complicated, though?” 

“I always thought it’d make me nicer,” 

It’s a sentence you feel in your whole body He’s like this sometimes. Not normally around you. On the field, you see it all the time. Moments where he becomes unreachable, that look in his eyes that you can spot from miles away - intensely focused and oddly serious. You know Isagi is the best, believe his word about being the best striker in the world. 

The emotion behind that makes him strange.

“It didn’t make you nicer?” 

He tilts his head to one side. For the first time, he’s really looking at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this way. He’s sweet already. Nice, already. He’s gentler than every other athlete guy you’ve ever met, uncharacteristically kind. His other qualities are limited to when he’s playing. 

Right now, he’s looking at you and only you. And he’s right, it doesn’t seem very nice. 

“I really thought it would.”

He doesn’t offer you any more explanation than that before he goes back to his normal self. His expression softens and his eyes open up and he’s back to looking all friendly again. You’re not mad at that, of course not. But your curiosity remains, and you leave the door open for whenever you see that again. 

“...You like me back right?” 

You smile to yourself. He’s really, really something else. You reach your hand out and only grab his pinky finger to hold. His hands are bigger than you thought they’d be but warm all the same. His eyes widen as he looks between you, your heart thudding in your chest. 

“What if I said no?” 

“I’d never come back to Japan,” He says seriously. 

“Shut up. You better come see your girlfriend.” 

“Nice,” He says, pushing a breath out of his lungs he’d been holding “I can’t believe I got a girlfriend before Kunigami.” 

“You’re so stupid.” 

“It’s cause I didn’t finish high school,” 

__ 

Long distance with Isagi isn’t as bad as you thought it’d be. Of course, it’d be better to see him in person. It’s just that he texts you so often it doesn’t feel like you’re that far apart. 

You like opening your phone to his flood of text messages. It’s always the same with him. Pictures of whatever he’s eating that day, sleeping teammates, and sweaty post-workout pictures that are definitely thirst traps but probably not on purpose. 

Your relationship feels like a friendship but not in a bad way. Just that Isagi has a strangely innocent way of approaching you, that always reads like a guy who’s never been in a relationship before. 

You know for a fact Isagi is not innocent, mostly because you knew him before you were dating. Before you were even crushing each other in which a raunchy joke left his mouth, dirty to the point you had to smack him for indecency. You know he’s not innocent because he doesn’t even bat an eye when Shidou is going on and on about having sex with a goalpost or whatever he’s talking about. 

But Isagi treats you like he’s an angel. Exceptionally polite, and exceptionally clean. Even when you tease him he’s censoring himself, diverting the conversation but not in a way that offends you. 

Sometimes you catch him looking. That’s the reason it doesn’t bother you mostly. Sometimes, and just sometimes - you see him stare at you. Shirts that make your chest stick out, or shorts that ride too high on your legs. It’s hardly on purpose, but it happens. Isagi will call you before you get ready to run errands and in the process of getting dressed, he sees a sliver of skin he’s not really supposed to see. 

Even through a screen and phone speakers, you can hear the soft hitch of his breath. When you’re both supposed to be doing your own thing, you’ll turn to see his eyes fixed on you when he thinks you’re looking away. 

You always look away quick enough that he can keep staring. He’s a bit of a voyeur, you learn.  

Today, your facetime call is more innocent than that. It’s about 2 weeks out before Isagi returns to Japan with the intent to stay there. Only 2 more weeks of long-distance until he’s home for good and you get to experience normal relationship stuff. 

He’s set up on your counter while you make dinner. He looks tired but he insisted on calling. In a hotel room, he’s laying back in a sea of white sheets. His dark hair mussed on his pillowcase, blue eyes lidded. 

“What’re you making?” He asks, voice thick with exhaustion. You glance at him, using your knife to smash the clove of garlic down on the cutting board. 

“Chili garlic noodles,” You say simply. He groans. 

“Ah…it sounds good. Our nutrition coach is so strict,” He whines, laying on his stomach “I want to eat meat,” 

“I’ll grill you some when you get home,” You say smoothly. 

“Promise?” He mumbles. You chuckle, looking at him for a minute. 

“Yes, I promise. Come home soon.” 

He rubs his cheek into his pillow, frowning. 

“Soon, soon,” He repeats softly, then a little quieter “...I miss you.” 

This comes as a surprise. You give him a look, a shade of pink running up his back to the tips of his ears. You giggle. 

“That’s the sappiest thing you’ve said for the last 6 months,” 

“...Ah, seriously?” 

“It definitely is,” You say without looking up, chopping the garlic fine carefully “No one would guess we’re dating if they heard us talk.” 

“It’s not on purpose, it’s just—well. I don’t know, ‘s kinda embarrassing.” 

“You’re a perfect gentleman though, Isagi. Don’t fret,” 

“That makes me feel way worse,” He complains lightly. This makes you laugh for so long you have to put down your knife just to hold your stomach. When you’re done, he’s smiling at you. He’s so handsome it catches you off-guard. 

“You’re surprisingly timid. When I watch you play, you seem like a completely different person..” 

“...You watch me play?” 

“I liked you as a player before we started dating, stupid.” 

This catches his interest, ears perking up. 

“...So what do you think of me as a player?” 

You pour the chopped garlic into the bowl with the chili and other ingredients, turning the stove on to heat oil to pour on top of it. He stares at you wide-eyed. 

“You’re basically a genius as a player. You’re a really good striker, and your physicality has improved a lot since you’ve been on the national team but your predictions set you apart from the rest.” You say without thinking much of it. It’s not intended to be a compliment, but an evaluation. Isagi really is just that good “I think you’ll become the best and I like seeing you play.” 

After that, he’s silent for a while. When you notice, you finally look up from your task to see him grinning from ear to ear. 

“Ah… I’m so happy. What do I do? I could die happy right now.” 

“Jeez.” 

“Thank you, you’re the best. Ahhh… I have to become the best for real. I mean I had to before, but now I really have to.” 

Before you get a chance to interject, a chorus of noise comes from the other side of the line. Your eyes snap up to where you find Isagi whose expression has immediately faltered. You don’t speak as you watch him sit up, face twisted into a look of apology. You give him a sweet smile that makes him relax a little.

There’s too much conversation for you to hear what they’re saying, seems like they’re just talking about their schedule. You tune out for the time being. Or you try too.

“Woah, woah—Isagi you’re talking to your girlfriend aren’t you?” A voice pipes up. A voice you know as Bachira. You’ve only ever spoken to him twice.

Isagi is always weird about letting you meet his teammates. You can’t pinpoint a reason for why, but you respect it either way. Of them though, he does sometimes let Bachira talk to you after a bit of pestering before shoving him away. 

Before you know what’s happening, you see a bunch of chaos on screen like you’re being snatched out of Isagi’s hand. You can hear his voice in the back, suddenly fainter. It sounds like he’s cussing but the other noise drowns him out. 

You end up in Bachira’s hands. Next to him is Chigiri, Nagi, Gagamaru and Rin. You know them as team members, but you’ve never officially met them as  Isagi’s girlfriend. Put on the spot, you give them a polite bow as they stare at you. 

“Uh,” You say awkwardly, raising your hand up to wave “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N. And  hi again, Bachira.” 

“Hehe, hi!” 

“Nice to meet you,” Chigiri says first. Nagi follows with a polite wave, as does Gagamaru. Rin gives you a nod but doesn’t say a word aside from that. 

“So you’re Isagi’s girlfriend huh,” Nagi starts, looking at you curiously “I thought he was making it up.” 

“Right,”  Chigiri confirms, giving you a once over. You feel awkward “Isagi is pretty private about it.” 

This catches your interest. 

“Isagi is?” 

“We’ve never even seen a picture of you until just now,” Gagamaru confirms. You can’t contain your surprise. 

“Oh. Huh.” 

“Do you know us, though?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah. As players though, not as Isagi’s friends.” 

“...You’re a fan?” The ever silent Rin says. It startles a little before you smile, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck. 

“I am. Have been since your game with the U20 league couple of years ago. Was really excited to see everyone together as major players on the national team. And congrats on your recent win against the Belgium National Team!” You say cheerily. 

Surprisingly all of them get a little embarrassed, aside from Nagi who seems a little smug about the whole thing. They all give their thanks, once again other than Rin. 

“I see why Isagi was trying to hide you,” Chigiri says first. You tilt your head in confusion. 

“Isagi is so stingy,” Bachira says, nodding his head. You have no idea what they’re on about so you simply say nothing and keep constructing your dinner. 

Before you can say anymore, you’re once again snatched from somebodies hands. This time though, you can hear your boyfriend speaking. His hand is cupped over the speaker so it’s muffled, but you can hear him faintly. He sounds like he’s cursing them over something. You can’t tell what. 

When you turn to see his face, he looks agitated. Just barely there, but there still. You stand still as he walks off somewhere else, the noise of his teammate dying out as he goes into some room. You have no idea where but there’s, at the very least, a bit more privacy in it. 

“Ah,” You say, as he comes into camera view again “Hi,” 

He has that look on his face. The one you can’t really name, that’s oddly intense for a reason you don’t understand. It relaxes a little when he focuses on you, just barely. You give him a warm smile, leaning on your counter. 

“Sorry about them.” He says seriously. 

“Don’t be. They seem nice and I have to meet your friends eventually.” 

“Ignore them, seriously. They’re dumbasses.” 

It’s rare to hear him speak so crassly. You can feel the odd energy around him, surrounding him like a cloud of smoke. You should probably tell him it’s fine, but your curiosity is peaked by his reaction. Like poking a sleeping bear, you’re fascinated by an angry Isagi. It’d be good if he could be more honest with his feelings. 

“They thought you were lying about me. Apparently, they didn’t even know what I looked like.” 

“It’s not really their business.” 

Interesting. You think Isagi is interesting at times like this. 

“I didn’t know you were territorial, Isagi.” 

You intend to say it as a joke, but a single look at him confirms it. Isagi is just so nice it's hard to believe. Instead of replying, he sighs.

“I miss you,”

“Mhm. I miss my boyfriend too, very much.” 

He relaxes, his threatening aura disappearing just slightly. 

“Your who?” 

“My boyfriend, Yoichi Isagi. Best striker in the world and smartest player ever, do you know him?” 

Isagi grins before giggling, face going flush again. Back to his usual self. 

“Think I might.” 

__

Isagi came back to Japan over two months ago. So far, not much has changed in your relationship. 

The only thing is, you’re determined to make your boyfriend snap. Or at the very least, express his feeling a little more. 

You’ve found yourself doing a lot of initiating in romantic milestones. This doesn’t bother you because after you do, he normally gets more comfortable doing the same. It’s a small price to pay for consistent kisses and bolder handholding. The issue isn’t really that, but the obvious way Isagi is dodging things he clearly wants to do. 

So far you’ve only gone as far as a little making out in your single-bedroom apartment before Isagi’s excusing himself back home or to your bathroom. You’re not trying to pressure the guy but you have this sneaking suspicion the reason he’s stopping isn’t because he doesn’t want to - because on the occasion you’ll get into it, he’ll get into it too. Only after you moan does he freeze and stop altogether - pulling away like he just got soaked with cold water.

And you’ll watch him real-time turn the idea over in his head, the very obvious half mast in his pants that he keeps shifting to cover.

He’s a good, sweet guy so it’s not like you fault him for it. On paper, he’s perfect. Boyish and friendly, with nice hands and a bright smile, unafraid to express himself. He’s intuitive with your emotions - like he has a sensor built in for your different moods. He’s attentive, and his awkward bumbling when trying to be boyfriend-like adds to how much you like him rather than take away from it. 

But now that he’s back and you spend so much time together, the fact he’s holding back a little becomes more and more apparent. You’ve tried to bring it up, and he obviously catches on to what you’re trying to say but feigns ignorance every time. 

Isagi is a strange character. You’ve known that forever, and after nearly 8 months of dating - you think you know what to call it. 

Isagi, even now, doesn’t like how he wants things. 

But it’s different with soccer. You know Isagi to be a terribly unselfish person in his day-to-day life. Even if he bickers or argues with his teammates, he never gets into fights and always gives the last piece to someone else. Soccer is probably the only place he lets himself be anything else, lets himself be a little bit egotistical, or act in self-interest. It’s the exception to his rule of thumb, the lesson beat into him early. 

And you think the way Isagi is, is what’s making him hesitate. You probably can’t say it outright, that it’s fine if he wants to be a little selfish over you or claim you like a possession if he feels like it. It’s even fine if he’s desperate because you like him and anything he does is bound to excite you. So far, confrontation has proved counterproductive so there’s no use in trying again. 

Isagi responds well to pressure, so you’ve resolved yourself into giving him a little push so he gives in. 

It’s a Saturday afternoon and you’re meeting Isagi for a date in an outfit you would consider risky. You stick to your athleisure when you’re out with him because your dates with Isagi are casual - but today you’re going to an art exhibit. The perfect time to show off a little. 

You’ve got on a skirt that rides up when you walk and a top that’s revealing enough to show off parts of your body you’re not normally trying to. For you, it’s risky and you know that means it’s gonna stun your boyfriend quiet. 

No matter what happens, you’ll give Isagi a push in the right direction. 

He’s waiting for you outside of your apartment. Leaning on the decently expensive car he bought when coming back home. You always forget that he really has money, because he normally dresses and acts like he doesn’t.

He’s dressed casually as you’d expected. With a pair of loose-fitting pants and a mildly oversized Nike sweatshirt - he always looks a little soft. He got a haircut from what you can tell, hair no longer blocking his line of sight. You give him a wave as you descend down the front steps of your apartments. 

He looks up from his phone, eyes locked before they widen. Your smile brightens as you approach him. 

“Hi,” You greet, watching with a warm smile as Isagi slides his phone into his pocket. He reaches for your hand, grabbing it but not saying anything with his mouth open. 

“Isagi?” 

“Oh,” He shakes his head like he’s trying to stop thinking something before he focuses back on you “Hi,” 

You giggle as he grabs both of your hands in his. You reach up to cup his face and he nuzzles against your palm before kissing it. Bemused, you stroke your thumb along his skin. 

“You all there?” 

“Yeah, you just—wow. You’re so… wow,” 

“How poetic, Isagi.”

He pouts a little. 

“You look…really nice. Uhm, like pretty and stuff,” 

You lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“And you look handsome as always,” 

“Ah, jeez, really?” 

“Really, really. Your haircut looks good.”

He brightens up at the mention of it, awkwardly rubbing his neck.

“I wanted to look a little nicer. I thought about styling it but it looked kinda dumb,”

“It’d look pretty sexy pushed back, I think. I’ll help you with it next time.” 

“S-Sexy?”

“I think you’re pretty sexy, Isagi. I thought you knew that already?” 

When you hint at past activities, Isagi is looking away from you. Hand covering his face - he looks up at the sky with silent resolve. 

“Oh,” 

You put a deliberate hand on his chest when you kiss him properly this time. Feeling him fluster is a tiny victory, his lips are soft like he’s just put chapstick on. 

You deepen it just a little before pulling away entirely, leaving him dazed. It’s going to be a good day if it keeps going in this direction. Still, you decide you’d be better off not pushing your luck and push him away. 

“Ready to go?”

He looks annoyed, not enough that it’s obvious. And not at you. He gives you a half-hearted smile and nods. 

“Ready.” 

__

The art exhibit is unexpectedly fun.

 It’s one of those interactive art exhibits. You only found out after buying the tickets but it was a pleasant surprise. Isagi was probably more excited about it than you were. Surprisingly, he has a soft spot for creative stuff. 

A certifiable film buff, manga enthusiast, and genuine procurer of art - he was ecstatic as soon as you two walked into what felt more like an amusement park than an art gallery. There were several rooms and each of them had different things to mess around with. 

Interactive lights in one, a heatroom that responded to touch and body temperature depending on where you walked, and a room that could read your heartbeat and project the beat onto a heart on one of the walls. 

It felt more like playing in an adult playground than it did an exhibit. It was so fun - you were having a hard time remembering what you were supposed to be doing in the first place. 

The last room in the exhibit is full of climbable structures. You had to take your shoes off before going in. Starting from the center of the room out were large white structures, like a net you could climb into on a massive scale. The material it was made of was sturdy enough to hold up the weight of whoever was in it, but pliable enough that it would stretch and bounce with whatever movement happened within it. 

You’re grateful you came with Isagi to this exhibit on a day when many people weren’t around. There are only a few other people in with the two of you, so you and Isagi have been moving around to your hearts' content. 

Unsurprisingly, Isagi moves through everything with ease. Damn him and his athletic stature, he’s not even tired when you get closer to the top of the exhibit.

He offers to be behind you so you can catch up as a middle ground. You aren’t thinking anything of it when you agree to go before him. 

You dig your heel into the link above you to give yourself some solid foundation to keep moving up. Climbing up like this reminds you of the playground you used to play on when you were young. Taking a deep breath, you let out a little hup as you adjust yourself and get a good distance above. When you reach the height you want, you turn yourself around to lean into the malleable material. 

It adjusts to the shape of your body with ease. Leaning back, your eyes naturally search for Isagi. You stopped actively listening for him behind you, assuming it wouldn’t be hard for him to catch up to you. 

When you turn around, you see Isagi. But, instead of coming up to sit next to you - his head is turned to one side. You can’t see his face clearly but there’s a clear blush tone painted on the apples of his cheeks. He’s standing stiff and still, a single hand reaching for you. 

“Isagi?” 

Your eyes follow the motion of his arm. His fingers pinch the very edge of your skirt, tugging down the material just slightly. You squint, leaning forward to get a closer look at him - balancing yourself so you don’t fall forward. 

“Baby?” 

“Oh, uh,” He won’t look you in the eyes. You can’t figure out why “Sorry.” 

“You feelin’ okay?”

“I’m fine.” He says too quickly. You drop down from where you are to look at him closer and he flinches back. Retracting, you frown. 

“You’re pale and sweaty. You sure you’re okay? It’s okay if you’re not feeling well. I had fun today no matter what.”

“No, no! I’m fine, I swear.” 

“Isagi,” You say, firm but sweet. You grab his hand “Let’s go home.” 

“But it’s—” 

“No buts. C’mon. I’ll invite you in, so let's go.” 

He sighs but doesn’t refute you, hand slipping gently into yours. 

“Okay.” 

__ 

Isagi has been acting weird. 

He hasn’t been able to meet your eyes since you left the art exhibit. The drive home was eerily silent aside from the radio. He did accept your invitation to watch a movie inside, but he’s been sitting on the carpet in your living room with a healthy amount of distance between you two. 

You’d understand if you spent the day messing with him, but the fun of the art exhibit practically ruined your original plans. So really, you’re completely clueless as to why your boyfriend is so stiff. 

You sigh deeply, pouring a glass of water. Placing the pitcher on your kitchen counter, you pad back into the living room to give him the cup.

“Here,” 

“Oh,” He says, not looking up at you “Thank you.” 

This time you’re annoyed. You sit diagonal from him, one leg up with the other one laying flat, the soft furry carpet comfortable. Sighing, you press your chin to your knee. 

“What's wrong with you?” You say bluntly. Isagi snaps his head up to you. 

“Huh?” 

You give him another displeased frown. It’s a little petulant but it’s hard to reach Isagi without using tactics like this. 

“You haven’t looked at me since we left the art exhibit,” You point out. His expression drops, eyes immediately focusing on something else “And you’re being so weird right now. So what’s wrong?” 

“I’m fine.” He insists, a wobbly smile on his face. You give him a flat look. 

“Isagi Yoichi.” 

“Yes, dear?” 

That makes you laugh a little but you don’t give in. 

“Can you please just tell me why you’re acting so weird, hm? Please?” 

His expression becomes even grimmer for a minute before he readjusts. He sits criss-cross, elbows resting on knees while he clasps his hands together. He’s looking forward very seriously, and you don’t know what to expect as you watch him turn something over in his head. 

He leans back this time, pulling up the collar of his sweatshirt to cover his face a bit. 

“I saw…” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes “I saw under your skirt earlier..” 

You squint before the realization hits you. Oh. Huh. He did pull your skirt down at the exhibit so it was probably riding up and he caught a peek. A little embarrassing, sure, but nothing of note. 

“...So?”

Isagi turns to look at you with wide eyes like you’ve said something unbelievable. You give him a look of confusion before giggling a little. 

“....So??” He parrots, lost.

“Yeah. So. Do you feel guilty or something?” 

He nods meekly. You grin. 

“I mean, were you peeping on purpose?” 

“No, no, of course not. I wouldn’t—” 

His panic has you full-blown giggling. When he realizes you’re not angry, he quiets down. Simply watching you, he takes a deep breath. 

“It’d be fine even if you were, so it’s whatever. Don’t be like that over something so small, I was really worried about it.” 

“It’s not small,” He says firmly. 

“Mm, really? It’s not a big deal to me though. You’re my boyfriend so you’d be the only one seeing my panties, anyway.” 

This makes Isagi choke. You watch him with an amused grin. 

“In fact, you can probably see it while I’m sitting like this too. I’m comfortable with you so I wasn’t thinking about it,” You say, teasing him slightly by spreading your legs “Even if I flashed you, you wouldn’t do anything about it, would you?” 

It’s not something he can refute so he doesn’t. You think it affected him, the slightest bit of frustration on his face. 

“It’s not like I’m not—yknow?” 

“Not what?” 

He rubs the back of his neck. 

“It’s not like I don’t… want to.”

“Oh, I know. I figured but,” You cross your legs this time, delighted by him “I know you won’t.” 

He’s silent for a while after that. You don’t want to pressure him, so you give him a warm smile. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’m sure you have your reasons and for whatever you can’t tell me, so I’m not gonna be mad.” 

He looks like he’s going to cry for a minute there but recollects himself. 

“I’m sorry.” He says lamely. 

“Don’t be. I was planning to seduce you today so in a way, my plans worked out.” 

The shock on his face has you biting back a cackle, choking on his spit. He wipes his mouth, looking at you embarrassed.

“Seduce me?” 

“Mm, I thought a little push might be good for you. But it looks like it had the opposite effect, you’re shaking like a leaf.” 

“It…that’s not true.” He folds his hands in his lap “I’ve never…done this before.” 

“I figured,” You repeat, nonplussed. You were Isagi’s first girlfriend after all “You don’t want to lose it to me, then?” 

“Not that,” He says, pulling his knees up and hugging his knees “I just… feel bad. For looking at you like that.” 

“Ah, I knew it.” You mumble “You feel bad for wanting to fuck me, don’t you?” 

He swallows something in the back of his throat, looking up. 

“It’s different.” 

“You know you’re really easy to read. It’s fine, Isagi. Whatever you want to do is fine. I like you, so it’s fine. Even if it’s gross or really perverted. If I hate something, I would just tell you.”

He looks up at you, riddled with guilt so you sigh. For his sake, you might as well put yourself out a little more. 

Instead of saying anything else, you crawl towards him on your hands and knees. His breath hitches, eyes locked on you. Adjusting so you’re in front of him, you stand on your knees and face him. He looks up at you, starry-eyed and a little afraid. 

You really just want to shake him by the shoulders, but you refrain. 

“Isagi,” You say, voice low and dripping with as much sexual desire as you can muster “Do you wanna see my panties?” 

It should be just the right push. 

His eyes snap down to your legs and thighs, where your manicured hands have the bottom of the skirt gripped in your hands. Two fingers in the tight material, you flutter your lashes at him. He looks shocked, stumbling over the right response before his hands fist at his knees. He looks down then nods hard. 

“Uh...Y-yeah. Yes, I— If that’s okay.,” 

Before he can retract too much, you pull up your skirt over the lower half of your tummy. You’re wearing a matching set, though it wasn’t with this intent. A cool wave of air hits your skin as you hold it up, giving Isagi a clear view. A pair of pretty, lacy panties are clinging to you. They’re thin and sheer, all black and snug. 

His ears are a vibrant red, hands planted at either side of him. 

“You’re looking so hard,” You tease, watching his desperate expression “You’ve never seen a girl's panties before? Or are you like this because they’re mine?” 

He flinches at the latter half of your statement. It’s nice to know he wants you, at least. 

“You like lace?” 

He nods, mesmerized. 

“You can touch,” You say encouragingly, glancing at his stiff posture “Be gentle, ‘kay?” 

His hands shake when he reaches forward. Instead of letting him go in blind, you take a free hand on his hand. The palm of his hand cups the back of your thigh. You let him do as he pleases with the other one. His breathing is so uneven it’s the only thing you can hear. His nimble fingers are hesitant as they reach forward for you. 

But he manages to touch you, a gentle finger against the edge of the fabric. He starts at your hips before traveling downward, lower and lower. He’s so tender, just like you thought he’d be. You feel your heart starting to beat fast at the feeling of his hand, the one on your thigh slowly getting tighter. 

His finger curls in before he’s so slowly touching the seam of your lace panties. Just where you can feel contact, where your pussy is. You’re aching just watching him sate his curiosity, the way he’s observing you making incredibly horny. 

He drags his knuckle down before he’s pressed right against your slit, underneath the cloth. He gasps as he feels it, a low noise slipping past your lips at the contact. 

“You’re.. I-it’s wet.” He says, a tremble in his voice. You smile. Cupping his face in your palms, you lean forward until you’re close to him. He looks so hazy for you. You press your lips to his, deep and soft as the skirt flops over his hand. He hasn’t moved at all, so you rub against his knuckle wantonly. 

“Mhm. I’m wet for you.” 

“For…for me.” He says through a wheeze. 

“Want to see your cock, Isagi.” You practically purr, turned on at his fluster. At him, in general. You hold his gaze while you say it, hand sneaking down to the front of his pants “To feel it. It’s lonely without you.” 

“Holy shit…holy shit.” 

“You wanna see it, right? Wanna see it stretch me out real nice. Don’t you wanna know how it feels?” 

“I want,” His voice is thick with lust to the point it’s unrecognizable. He buries his face against your neck. Your heartbeat thrums “I want to… do what you want.” 

Oh? 

“You’re thoughtful even in bed, is it? You wanna make me cum, Isagi?” 

He groans.

“Oh, please,”

“You’re so sweet. Makes me wanna take your virginity.” 

“Take whatever you want.” He says, rushed. You chuckle. 

“Even your credit cards? Your wallet?” 

“Yeah,” He says easily. 

“Stupid,” You adjust so either of your legs are on either side of Isagis's stretched legs “Kiss me,” 

“Yeah.” He repeats, a little slower. 

This much is familiar to you both. Isagi has gotten good at kissing. Though he normally holds himself back, keeping his hands steady. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your body up to his purposefully. Isagi makes a noise of approval as he feels your chest press to his. He hesitates only briefly as he sneaks a hand on your thigh, just above your knee. 

His kisses are warm and familiar.  Your hands tangle in his hair as you urge for him a little deeper, soft locks between your fingers. He likes when you tug at his scalp. His slow nipping kisses deepen until you’re breathing him in.

“Isagi,” You break away, out of breath “Stick your tongue out.” 

He obliges easily. Before he has a chance to question it, you grab his face in your hands again and mirror him. The sudden contact makes his grip on you tighten before he melts into it. Tongue kissing him slow, he finds rhythm with you. You kiss like that for a while, spit and tongue and teeth. Kissing like that is turning you on, so you press your weight down on his body for more contact. 

He’s surprised when he feels you. His eyes open to look at you, but you don’t want to stop kissing him so you leave it. Instead, you hold his gaze as you rub your clothed cunt over the hard-on in his pants. Normally even getting this far is some sort of miracle. 

But right now, Isagi isn’t stopping you at all. It’s a success in your eyes. You can feel him respond to each of your slow grinds. Dragging your hips back and forth, Isagi’s eyes are lidded when he watches you. 

“Mm,” You go harder, your clothed clit catching on the tip of his cock. You can feel how the fabric is soaking underneath you “Isagi. I wanna know how you feel.” 

He pulls back in a pant, eyes closed. His forehead drops onto your shoulder with a soft thud. 

“Feels so good,” He slurs, speechless. He’s so cute. 

“You like when I grind on you?” 

“It’s making me so hard.” He says, voice going high. 

“What do you want, Isagi?” 

“See,” He mumbles, twitching under you “Wanna see.” 

Without another word, you pull back from him. Giving him a pleasant smile, you slip your top off of your body and let it fall to the floor. Isagi’s eyes grow the size of saucers, swallowing. 

“Oh my god.” 

You stand to your feet, hand on his shoulder to keep him sitting. Infront of him, you strip your skirt as slowly as you can manage. You’re only left in your lingerie and your socks. Isagi is looking up at you like you’re the sun. The exposure of your body has never made you shy, but the look on Isagi’s face is really giving you a run for your money. 

“Take your shirt off,” 

Isagi widens his eyes before breaking out into another blush. Ultimately he does what you ask. You watch the sweatshirt peel off of his body while he’s still seated underneath you. You forget how strong he is until he’s naked like that. He’s toned.  

He keeps looking up at you from where he’s sat. You give him a glance.

“Do what you want Isagi.” You encourage. His brow furrows momentarily before he finds himself kneeling underneath you. You aren’t sure what to make of the position. Isagi’s hands hover over your body. Holding your waist, he rubs his cheek against your stomach before kissing it. You play with his hair. When he looks up, his eyes are full of desire. 

“You don’t feel real.” He says in a mumble. 

“I’m very real.” 

He looks up at you. Eyes rimmed with hunger, hands holding you’ll fall away. Even still, he’s looking for permission. That conflict that he feels every single time he wants something. 

“Tell me if you want to stop.” He says, masking the tremble in his voice. You smile. 

“Course.”

“Then,” He looks at you seriously “Can we go to your room?” 

You nod, reaching your hand out for him to take, he follows you to your bedroom. On the opposite side of the room, you shut the door behind you. Instead of asking him where he wants you- you flop onto the bed and open your arms. 

“C’mere.” You say. He widens his eyes but does as you say, hovering above you. His arms rest on either side of your head. Warmth radiates off his body, hands hesitantly touching your face. He rests his face against your chest. 

“We’re really gonna have sex,” He mumbles, with a flush. You can’t contain your laugh. 

“You’re still like this, huh.” 

“Of course I am,” He kisses you this time, in between his nerves with just a little more confidence than before “I get to… with you. Wow.” 

“Touch me.” You all but demand. Isagi does an obedient little nod before he steels himself. His palms travel slowly downwards, drifting touches until he’s at your chest. He takes in a deep breath as he cups them over the lacy material. You can feel your nipples harden under the touch, and he must too because he lets out a little sound of surprise. He looks up at you for assurance,

You merely smile at him. 

He keeps going, little by little familiarizing himself with your body. Distracted and clumsily, with no real expertise. Every now and again, he’ll catch himself drifting. He presses kisses to your neck and chest while he gropes you thoroughly and curiously. Isagi endears you at every turn. You’re no stranger to it but seeing him like this reminds you of how much. 

You put your hand on top of his so he can squeeze tighter. He gasps a little but repeats after you, squeezing. You don’t have to ask him to touch you directly, a pleasant surprise. He doesn’t take off your bra nor does he fumble with it. He pulls the cups down until your tits spill. Every time you think he’ll stop being shocked, he gets red in the face and proves you wrong. 

The cold air to your exposed chest makes your back arch slightly. You adjust so you can take your bra off completely, letting the strap slip over your shoulder. When it comes loose, Isagi pauses so you can toss it somewhere. 

His eyes are so glued on your tits you can’t help but feel a little shy.

“Isagi,” It comes out a little whiny “Touch me,” You assert again. 

“I can do what I want, right?” 

You nod. 

To your surprise, he trails kisses down your sternum. In between your tits, licking softly and biting even softer. You have no idea what he’s thinking, but you think he probably read up about it somewhere. The thought makes your stomach twist. Your sweet boyfriend away for months, reading up on how to please you. It’s something he’d do. Knowing that makes your teeth ache, like over-indulging on sugar. 

His mouth closes around your nipple and a shockwave rolls through your whole body. A dull throb starts between your legs as Isagi focuses on just one. You bring his hand to your other one. 

“Like this,” You say, showing him “Gently,” 

He listens to your instruction well. A soft wave of pleasure settles over you as Isagi uses his mouth and hands to his heart's content. Mouth latched on your nipples, sucking slightly.

Isagi learns quickly, you realize. He tries something new and waits for your reactions and doesn’t push. He’s gentle but puts more pressure on if he thinks he’s losing you, focused on you and only you. 

You moan for him. It feels good. 

“Aah, Isagi.”

He pulls himself off slightly, eyes peaking up at you with a sense of satisfaction. Your skin is start to prick with that familiar desire, pooling in your gut. It’s vicious. He makes your head feel heavy with sin. You want to claim him unabashedly, a little eager to take something as precious as his first time. A flower you want to crush in your palm or snow packed under your feet - you take pleasure in breaking him down little by little. Delicate but yours to handle, you and Isagi have odd synergy. 

 Isagi becomes your center of gravity, your body pulled into him and his natural enigma. You want him and he wants you. That balance leaves your toes curling.

Desire drapes over your shoulders and weighs you. He’s pretty. Strong and toned muscles for his upper arms, a body built for athleticism. His hair is mussed in his face, sweat sticking slightly to his skin. 

Before you can regain your sense, your hand is creeping towards his waistband. He stares at you as your eyelids droop, undoing the zipper of his pants and pulling them down. You lock eyes as you slide them down as far as you can reach.

His legs are so much stronger than you were expecting, thick and sturdy as you pull them down past his legs. Your eyes settle on the tent on his pants, wrapping your palm around his cock through the fabric. He hisses hard at that, shuddering. 

“Fuck,” He grits, face twisted “Y-your hand.” 

“Isagi. Stand on your knees for me,” 

He looks confused for a minute, but eventually gets a hint. You prop yourself up on some pillows, urging Isagi forward until his bulge is closer to your face. Once he realizes the position he’s in, almost over your chest - his knees almost buckle. You can see him biting the inside of his cheek as you dip into his waistband. 

You pull his briefs of slow, cock hanging heavy. Isagi is thick with a hard curve left. The tip is shiny and wet, pre-cum leaking from it slow. Your heart pounds against your ribs, instinctively staring hard. Isagi is holding his breath.

You blow on it teasingly, watching him squirm. He’s so sensitive. You crane your neck up, pressing a wet kiss on the frenulum with purpose. His throat closes, air coming out in a choked moan. 

“Oh my god,” 

“Can I use my mouth?” You ask. He shakes his head no instantly.  

“I’ll cum f-for sure. Please don’t, don’t.” 

You chuckle at his insistence. 

“Okay, okay. My hand okay?” 

“Yeah, please.” 

You make a show of covering your hand with spit. Sticking your tongue out until they’re soaked and letting it drip down, sticky into your palm. Isagi looks like he’s going to fall out at any minute. You wrap your hands at the base of his shaft, slowly dragging your first until you’re cupped around the tip. He’s slick in your hands. You jerk him off slowly, not trying to overwhelm him. 

Isagi is a mess over you. He looks good. Sweat is beading down his chest, falling down his body. His head is tipped back, mouth open as he tries to figure out what to do with his hands. He’s throbbing so hard in your palms. It’d make you feel guilty to make him cum like this, but god he looks good on the edge.

He fucks into the little hole you’ve made with your fist, unintentionally. 

“Fuck, why d-does that feel so good,” He says, voice muffled by his own hand “Y-your hands are so fucking soft.” 

“You’re so good to me, Isagi. Nobody better,” 

“Ngh, y-you’re…” His thought is cut off by a smooth pull of your hands “Stop, please.”

You do instantly, watching as he catches his breath. 

“How am I supposed to hold that in…?” He says, genuinely at a loss. You can’t help but laugh. 

“Takes practice I think.” 

“You should cum first.” He concludes seriously.

“Any ideas on how you wanna do that?” You tease. 

“Thought I could give you head if you’re okay with it. I k-know I won’t be good right away but I—” 

You pat his thigh to catch his attention. 

“Stop freaking out and lay down between my legs.” 

His blush intensifies. You get yourself comfortable as Isagi readjusts so that he can be laying between your legs. Propping yourself up with the pillows behind you, you spread out so that Isagi can be comfortable. When he’s ready, you smooth his hair back. He’s staring at your thighs hard. 

“Do you know what you’re doing?” 

“Ah, a little?” 

You nod at him, laying back and watching. He takes a deep breath first, his hands splaying over the tops of your thighs before moving along the curve. The skin on skin makes your heart pitter patter. Isagi is always staring at your legs, but it’s taken you till now to realize he has a thing for your thighs. He rubs his cheek along your inner thigh, squeezing the fat between his fingers hard enough that it aches. 

His lips start at your inner knee, trailing up. Slow, wet kisses along the skin and tentative bit. Your breathing goes uneven, tension pouring into the room slowly like a billow of smoke. Isagi is so gentle but so wanting. His every touch is desperate and drunken. Everything you do is completely intoxicating to him, everything new and interesting. 

You didn’t think it would turn you on to see him put in so much effort. Unrefined and needy, always whimpering but determined. Stimulated by the littlest things, but most of all by turning you on. It’s like he’s someone else, when he switches to your other thigh to repeat the action. The dull drag of sharp teeth on skin like softening something before eating. It’s hard to stay still when you watch Isagi partake in consumption, when he looks at you like a gift bestowed to him. A little greedy to be used by you. Even if it mean chewing him up and spitting him up. 

You always knew he was dedicated. Always had that single-minded focus on his movements, never taking his eyes off you in any situation. Even when it was warranted, even when he was supposed to be looking at the scenery.

You think for the first time that you’re facing just how much Isagi wants you. And seeing him like that makes you understand why he was hesitating so much at first. The intensity of it is unbearable but exciting. You make him greedy and unforgiving. 

His breath is warm when it fans your cunt, a soft moan leaving his lips as he takes a deep inhale of you. You’re embarrassed but he isn’t. He presses another soft kiss on your clothed cunt, lips wetted by the soaked material. He does it again and again, like he’d kiss you. The realization breathes new life into your lust. 

“Pretty,” He mumbles, star-struck and tipsy on his own thirst “You’re so pretty.” 

You help him by taking off your panties and he moves aside so that they’re tossed on the ground somewhere before settling back between your legs. There’s no barriers this time, nothing to keep him away from you. 

His nose bumps your clit, tongue delving between your folds and collecting all the arousal in his mouth - swallowing slowly. The sensation makes your spine tingle, your body heat at a rapid increase. You tangle your fingers through his hair again, guiding his head to where you like. 

“Little to the side.” 

He nods against you, following your orders. You feel him right where you like it, the burning drag of his tongue as he suctions his mouth around it. It takes him a minute to adjust. His hands keep you company as he finds the right pressure and the right movements. The whole room feels like it’s melting around you. All the sensation in your limbs goes mellow, a softness to the feeling. Your senses are buzzing like the electricity lingering before a storm. 

Isagi is salacious when he sucks on your clit. Throbbing against his mouth with each pass, flat and rhythmic - not to slow or too fast. Isagi learns your body like he’s memorizing, drawing a path to the finish line. Worked up to the point of delirium, you find yourself rolling your hips. Your hand is clamped in his hair, dragging him to you harshly. You find Isagi likes when you’re a little mean to him, a little rough. An adrenaline junkie at heart, he moans when you rut yourself against his face. He doesn’t stop even once, merely following along with you. Moving in tandem. 

What he wants is written all over his face. It etched into his brow bone, drawn in the lines on his face. Please cum, over and over like a plea.

The coil in your stomach starts to grow tight as you stay like that. You can’t think about anything else, hands fisting hard in his hair. He moans against you, the reverb in your skin. 

“Isagi,” You pant, mouth open. You force yourself to keep your eyes open, to look at him while it happens “Cumming.”

Your whole body feels like it’s unraveling as you finish on his face. Isagi doesn’t pause from you. His eyes are closed and his tongue is nudging at your entrance - face buried in your cunt and soaking himself in it. The sound of him slurping fills the room, echoes on the walls and in the back of your head. You can hear his audible swallow as he tastes you, halfway between curiosity and full-blown perversion. He’s somewhere far off as the after waves hit, tremoring inside. 

You have to pull him off you to wake him up from his trance. The sight of his messy chin makes your heart pump. You wipe his chin with your thumb, pressing it to his lower hip. He’s confused at first but opens up anyways. 

“Suck on it.” 

His eyes go wide but he listens. Of course, he does, cleaning the arousal off of your digit. When he’s near done, you pull him up towards you and kiss him hard. For it being his first time, he did so well. You feel selfish all of a sudden. You want to keep him all to yourself. 

“Isagi,” You say his name softly when you pull apart, a string of saliva between you “You did so good.” 

“Ah, really? Then I’m happy.” 

“You’re so good to me, baby. What am I gonna do with you?” 

“...B-baby?”

“Yeah. That okay?” 

“More than okay, I just…woah. I really…” 

You look at him curiously.

“I really love you,” He confesses, words tumbling out of his lips so fast you think you’ll miss it “I was supposed to tell you when I got back but I kept putting it off and I know now seems like a bad time, but I really—” 

When the realization settles, you’re grinning ear to ear. Not that it’s unexpected, the timing is funny and so very Isagi. You shut him up with a kiss, making him melt into you. His hand comes up on your waist. 

“I love you too. Let’s make love, hm?” You offer, teasing. He flushes but doesn’t deny the idea. He’s sappy enough to like something like that you think.  

“Will you call me by my first name?” 

You look at him surprised before breaking out in a wider smile. 

“Yoichi,” You breath out, dragging the last syllable out as he swallows “Come fuck me.” 

“We don’t have condoms.” His voice sounds sad. 

“It’s fine.” 

“B-but—” 

“You don’t want to?” 

He looks at you grimly making you laugh. 

“I’m telling you it’s fine. Just trust me. It’s better raw, anyway.” 

Isagi hugs you this time, his face rubbing against your cheek with a frown. You can’t help but want to spoil him a little when you see him like this. No matter how famous he is, he’s really just a boy. The thought of that makes you happy. 

“You say stuff like that so easily.” 

“I’ve always been straightforward. Who asked who out, huh?” 

“Point taken,” 

“If you get it then, c’mon.” 

You watch as Isagi stands off to completely take his pants off. You take a minute to admire him naked, all the muscles and tanning on his body. The callouses in different places and a few scars from injuries littering his skin. He’s not very hairy, but where it is - it’s fine and wispy. He comes back to you naked, the bed dipping under his weight. 

He drags you down a little, letting you adjust to the new position. You find yourself comfortable on your back. The tip of Isagi’s cock is visible, weeping and hard over your cunt. 

“Normally, I’d make you prep me but I think it’s okay. Just go slow, ‘kay?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Mhm.” 

He gives you a firm nod. Unsure of what to do, you watch as he spits in his hand to lube himself up. His eyes are mesmerizing a deep blue. Position himself at your entrance, you can’t tear your eyes away from his face. You’re so curious about his reaction. In a slow, slow thrust - you feel the tip start to nudge itself inside of you. The slick sound makes you shiver. 

His expression is pinched as he fucks into you so slowly. Almost like he’s in pain trying to keep himself steady. Your walls accommodate him nicely, slowly stretching around until they take on his shape. Everything feels like it’s spinning around you - the world tilted on it’s axis for minutes at a time. Maybe just because it’s Isagi but his cock makes you feel unsually good. It feels different than the other times you’ve had sex. Holding in a breath, he pushes himself in. One inch at a time, it’s agonizing for you.

You sneak a hand between your bodies. Isagis holds the top of your thighs, just at the curve of your hip as he penetrates. Fucks you languidly and softly and gently, with a grip in his fingers like he’s going to lose his fucking mind. He looks about ready to break, gasping each time he pushes further. 

“You’re so warm. Holy shit.” 

“You almost inside?” 

“Yeah, fuck.” 

Your whole body feels like it’s molded around his cock - stuck inside of you. When his pelvis hits yours, you let out a sigh of relief. He feels so fucking good. Snug and thick, his cock is so hard for you. He twitches rapidly as steels himself, holding you for support. You rub your clit lazily as you watch him, blinking slowly. 

“Yoichi.” 

His cock twitches hard inside of you. You wanna milk him dry, seeing him like that. He looks at you. 

“You can move.” 

You let out a gasp when you feel Isagi pull out only to fuck into you hard. The force of it is unexpected, but not bad. He breathes raggedly. You put your legs up until your ankles are just over his shoulder, reaching for a pillow to put under your back so he can stay stood on his knees and you can rest your legs. His hair is framing his face as he looks down at you, breathing raggedly. He places a kiss on your ankle before saying another. 

“Sorry, I can’t hold it, I want you so much.” 

“S’okay. Keep going.” 

You can’t keep control of yourself as Isagi pistons you. His thrusts are unexpectedly powerful, hips slamming in the back of your thighs every time he moves. It must be the core and leg strength. He thrusts like he’s practiced with something, makes you wonder if he’s ever fucked something on his own. It leaves you shivering, the intrusive way his cock stretched you out until there’s no longer any tension. Until you’re stretched around him completely so that he can fuck you as he pleases. 

The shift from discomfort to pleasure happens before you can screw your head on straight. Isagi fucks you impatiently. He’s looking at you but you can tell that he’s trying so hard not to cum. Teeth digging into his lower lip. He’s whimpering for you. Whining a little at how it feels but fucking you all that same. It’s imperfect and inexperienced - but he’s trying so hard to do it right that it doesn’t matter. You’re so turned on by him that it wouldn’t register.

“Yoichi,” You call out if only to get his attention. You smile when he looks at you “Does it feel good?” 

“Feels so good, fuck, I c-can’t.” 

“You’re fucking me so good.”

The praise has a shiver running down his back. 

“Oh my god.” 

You can feel another orgasm coming in. Isagi fills you deep, scratches an itch you could never get to on your own. He drags along your sensitive walls at an angle, rubbing your insides raw. Every nerve in your body is burning up from the inside out, like a sparkler in July heat. Your nerves are more tender than ever and Isagi toys with each one. All you can think about is how good his cock feels, even through his inexperience. 

It spreads through your body like blood in your veins, the bliss is so overwhelming it makes you motion sick. Your free hand playing with your clit twitches, the other one holding your chest to keep you occupied. Isagi moves you with each pound of hips, reaching the back of you. 

“Gonna cum soon,” You pant. 

“M-me too. I’m so fucking close, fuck.” 

You reach your orgasm in a haze, Isagi’s never slowing in his gestures. He fucks you through it, your whole body going taut with tension like the snap of a rubber band. Your hands fist in the sheets as the tension in your muscles melt, spasming around. 

 You don’t get a chance to say anything much before Isagi is following in your stead. His orgasm must hit hard because he’s cumming inside of as deep as he can go. His hands are secured around your thighs, digging into them as you feel the hot twitch of his cock before unloading into you. It’s warm as it spurts out in thick coats of white, a pleasant feeling making your head spin.

 Isagi is shaking above you, so you bend your knees so he can drop down over you. He nearly collapses on top of you, immediately snuggling up to you even while his cock is buried inside of you. You can’t believe he managed to last as long as he did. You press your lips to his forehead as he sighs in contentment over you. 

“Naughty boy.” You tease. He whines. 

“That felt so good I thought I was gonna die. Thank you” 

“Are you thanking me for making you cum right now? You’re so stupid.”

“Stupid in love.” He corrects, picking his head up to give you a smile. Breaking out into a fit of giggles, you give him another long kiss. Ridiculous. “And it’s not just for that. Just for pushing me. You always consider my feelings”

“You can be whatever you want with me, Yoichi.” 

“I’m so lucky.” He says sincerely, nuzzling up to you “My life is really great. It’s nice. Please don’t leave me by the way.” 

You can’t help but laugh at how honest he’s being. 

“Never. There’s still a lot left for you to learn, y’know?” 

“You’re gonna get me hard again.” He warns, faux serious. You shrug. 

“Not sorry.” 

[bllk-after-dark]

20% off on our OF!!

pairing. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, mikage reo x fem!reader

content warnings. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, nsfw, both of you are 'pornstars', praise kink, mastrubation, vaginal sex, squirting, mention of cum in pussy, written in lowercase

series. part one of ??

isagi yoichi. he‘s tight on money and so he does some research for quick money. of course he heard of onlyfans, but when it got suggested to him… it didn’t leave his mind and so he gathered his courage, after days of thinking about it and asked you if you would join him. he was relieved you agreed, he doesn’t want to do this without you.

the two of you are very new to this, but after doing some research (spying on other people’s accounts), you really get into it. it starts making fun, not only a second source of income. the two of you always giggle and blush at the praise you get, when your buyers call the both of you pretty, so fuckable, so cute and pliant after several orgasms.

you gain experience, and slowly you get bolder. both of you agreed to never show your faces, but the cameras linger longer on your upper bodies, showing chest and neck, sometimes even your chin. it’s dangerous, and it’s thrilling. not to mention, you get money, money for showing off his dick and your pussy, cumming while a whole audience watches, panting and moaning for more.

nagi seishiro. he spends so much money on his games, it’s unreal. and even if reo lends him some of it, nagi feels always bad for it. he likes to be spoiled, but he doesn’t want to be indebted. and so he turns to you, asking if you would join him on onlyfans. you’re shocked at first, but in the end, you agree.

in the beginning it’s only some jacking off, nagi making you cum on his fingers, or some of your nudes, showing off your body.

but then the two of you really get into it, especially you. nagi looks so pretty with his eyes lidded, panting and whining, all while you wrap your hand around his dick, pressing your thumb on his slit, slowly torturing him until his thighs shake. it’s one of your most bought videos, nagi sitting on the chair, naked and his head thrown back, all while you ruin him with nothing more than your hand.

it becomes an addiction for him. to be praised and spoiled by you and the audience. nagi makes such a good sub, such a sweet and good boy, you’re so glad he asked you to be part of his onlyfans account. without it, you would’ve never found it out, the praise kink nagi has.

mikage reo. you ask him to appear in one of your videos. your onlyfans account has been up for a while, filled with videos where you pleasure yourself, always alone, never another man or woman with you. but then you appear on the top 100 and you thought it would be a good celebration, to have a video where someone fucks you stupid. not only would it sell well, it would also finally be chance to have good dick again.

so when you ask reo, you know he wouldn’t agree because of the money, not when he’s the heir of a rich family. he finds you attractive, of course he wants to have sex with you! you’re over the moon when he agrees, a faint blush in his face.

when you finally upload the video that’s barely 30 minutes long, it breaks your own records in days. it’s your most popular piece and so many ask for reo to come back, the mysterious man who ruined your pussy, filling you with his cum and making you sob as you squirt all over him. reo never shows his face in your future videos, but your fans can always tell it’s the same man.

anne. hehe 🤭

[yoichins-deactivated20240210]

"my drive, my passion, my creations baby, they're all me. when i'm on that stage, i'm the egoist of the century."

　　 　 — 𝐑Ø𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐀 !

★﹐genre﹒﹕bllk rockstar au, series of one shots ! semi-smau! crack humor/crack, visuals, nsfw, slight angst, descriptions abt bands will be displayed ! ᥫᩣ

★﹐ warnings﹒﹕fem!reader, they all r kinda crazy but it's okay they do it for the fans, sfw & nsfw! profanity, each fic will have their own warnings :p, some ooc moments? all characters r aged up!!

★﹐tags﹒﹕#R☆M; asks , #R☆M, smau , #R☆MANIA ! 🎸

★﹐a/n﹒﹕HII GUYS >o< i debated abt this au like lots and look at me now.. doin it Ö .. but it's gonna be great dw— i just really hope everyone enjoys this silly brain-rot of mine and how sexy everyone is gna be!!! hope this layout isn't too confusing either question mark.

★﹐links﹒﹕instruments

— SERIES INDEX [EGØIST]

cameras were flashing, reporters were moving, fans are screaming from the sidelines, the rush of any other life could never be as intoxicating as this. especially when egoist was in town.

" NAGI! your drumming blow mines of thousands each day, so effortlessly and natural as if you were born with the sticks! how do you do it? how many years did it take you? talk to the camera!"

"hm? i only started 8 months ago... is it really that hard? must suck for others." the ivory hair remarked before holding his fingers up and forming a peace sign. "anyways stream the fuck out of BUG, bye."

"no bassist can ever compare to the monster, BACHIRA MEGURU himself! how do you bounce around so easily and still shred the chords? your technique tops the charts!"

"heh! a magician never shows his chords, or some shit like that.. what's my fave bass line you said? silly reporter! you know it's definitely MACHINEGUN. oh! isagi's calling, see ya!"

"the heart of egoist! the actual egoist himself ISAGI YOICHI ! you're like a whole other guy on stage, man! what's your secret? your rivalry with itoshi rin? kaiser? you got a alter ego maybe?"

"alter ego— first of all, get off my dick. you go up there and preform BLACK MEMORY and let's see if you can make it half as good as i can. later!"

"princess of the guitar who plays at speeds that even experts can't even comprehend ! CHIGIRI, got any tips for the aspiring guitarists out there?"

"uh, you either have the talent or you don't, easy. if you got it? give it a shot, just don't embarrass yourself trying to cover STARGET. now if you excuse me, your bitchass face is gonna give me migraines."

"the new manager of egoist, MIKAGE REO! got some words for the cameras on how you handle the boys? there's word on the street that your quite the rockstar yourself, whats that about? why not go back to that, is it because nagi seishiro joined here as well? following him perhaps? what if egoist loses their success? whats your plan?"

"nosy much... get that mic out my fucking face, god you reporters are annoying. egoist will be the biggest band out there, trust me. now do me a favor and listen to SESSHOKU before asking me dumb questions... out of my way."

"well that's egoist for you... " the reporter wiped his head before turning back, eyes perking up with interest. "ITOSHI RIN and RYUSEI SHIDOU on their way here too? must be my lucky day!"

© TORUFILMS , all music featured belongs to the oral cigarettes! pls don't steal any of my works! ◜ω◝

[bllk-after-dark]

ardent hunger.

pairing. reo mikage x afab!reader

content warnings. afab reader, no pronouns/gendered petnames, cunnilingus, dirty talk, biting, praise kink, teasing, switch dynamics, hair pulling

As a wonderful consequence of a life amongst the corporate elite, Reo Mikage knows just how to savour every part of you that you have to offer.

Face buried deep between your thighs, every single pass and swipe of his tongue against your cunt feels like heaven. You are a delicacy, a luxury, a ripe summer fruit that drips so sweetly along his chin whilst he devours you. 

His fingers press into the soft flesh near your ass, desperate to feel as much of you as he can, to covet and adore you with each and every ounce of his being. Your fingers are laced tight into his hair to guide him as you thrust against his hot mouth, eliciting devout moans that resonate against your clit and spark stars behind your eyes. 

“Such a good boy,” you hum mindlessly, and he revels in your praise. 

It is incentivising, enticing him to bury his tongue deeper, to press the full flat of the wet hot muscle across your pussy and eat you out with renewed vigour, to do his best to please you so that he may hear those sweet words of affirmation tumble from you once more. 

“You’re so eager tonight, Mikage,” you taunt, entirely aware of how much he despises your use of his family name. “Was I not paying enough attention to you over dinner? You know I like to let you sort those negotiations out for yourself, they’re so boring to me.”

He nips at your thigh in defiance, a teasing bite, the skin stinging lightly as he presses an open-mouthed kiss against it after. “They’d be less boring if you spoke more, dear. You’d put those stuffy old men to shame.” Another kiss, closer to your cunt this time. You moan and he smiles, a final kiss to your clit while you writhe under him. “Besides, you have such a pretty voice.”

“I don’t think- “ you gasp reverently as his tongue slips between your folds one more, nose pressing into your clit- “that they’d appreciate these sorts of sounds.”

Reo does no more than hum in acknowledgement of your words as your fists curl against the sheets, bundling the fabric tight between your knuckles. 

Your taste is enthralling, addictive- how could he not be eager to consume as much of you as he can? Especially when you are so responsive to his touch, alight below his fingertips. 

Hands against his head once more, pulling gently at his hair, thrusting wantonly against his mouth as your orgasm approaches, you still twitch and keen everywhere his own hands roam. From your thighs, up your stomach, caressing along the curve of your chest and all the way back again, Reo simply has to feel you whilst you come undone for him. 

He is desperate for your release, perhaps even moreso than you are yourself. One hand returns to your clit to stimulate it alongside his mouth and the salacious whine that slips from you has him close to cumming completely untouched. 

Pressed into the bedsheets, his cock is hard and leaking, the friction from rubbing against the bed barely enough to stimulate him the way that he needs. But his own release isn’t important as your movements become deeper, frantic, quiet utterances of “fuck, Reo, I’m close,” falling past your lips and rolling in rivulets down to the dip of your collarbone. 

You press up on your forearms to look at him and Reo can do no more than smile up at the blissed-out look in your eyes as your orgasm washes over you, lips parted and glossy in the gently twinkling ceiling lights. He always thinks you are at your prettiest in the hazy glow of your comedown, chest rising and falling with every soft pant, the overwhelming adoration in your eyes when you look at him.

But he's not done yet.

There is one thing that Reo knows above all else as a result of his upbringing, something as integral to the working heart of an entrepreneurial system as oxygen itself.

The importance of return investments.

ven. dear god finally i wrote smth it was abt time LMAO

[bllk-after-dark]

artists' desire.

pairing. bachira x fem!reader

content warnings. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, nsfw, exhibitionism, reader is fembodied, use of female pet names (good girl)

Artist Bachira who offers you money to nude model for his latest project. He approaches you out of the blue one day and catches you by surprise with how blunt he is about it, explaining how he has no idea who else to ask and not enough time to save up enough money to hire an actual model. You find yourself agreeing to his proposal without much thought, and it only hits you how embarrassing this is going to be when the day you agreed to meet is right around the corner. 

When you show up to his place as planned, wearing comfortable clothing that will end up on the floor in only a matter of minutes, you have to keep internally reminding yourself that this is a professional setting and that there’s nothing strange about it. Bachira isn’t acting like this is anything out of the ordinary, so when he leaves the room after telling you to get undressed and gesturing to the loveseat draped in a silk sheet you remove everything before you can chicken out and tentatively take a seat on top of the smooth fabric. 

On the other side of the room there’s an easel holding a canvas and a stool where he’ll be sitting while he draws you. Your body traitorously heats up at the thought of how closely he’ll be looking at each part of you and you have to press your thighs together shamefully to stop the dull throbbing from your core. 

The sound of the door opening makes you jump slightly as Bachira shoulders his way inside and gives you a quick, respectful nod when he meets your eyes before pausing and doing a double take at the sight of you. His eyes widen a fraction and rake over your torso and legs, but he’s quick to shake himself out of his momentary stupor and lets an easygoing smile spread across his face. 

“Alright then, let’s do this.” He says in a singsong voice while dropping himself down on the wooden stool and adjusting the canvas. “Sit in whatever position is most comfortable, but focus on appearing sensual at the same time.”

You nod at his words and start to rearrange yourself, leaning back slightly to rest against the arm of the loveseat in a lounging position that has your chest facing slightly forward while one of your legs crosses over the other and accentuates the jut of your hip. You can feel his eyes on you the entire time, and you have to fight the urge to cover your chest and curl your legs up so he can’t see anything. 

When you find a comfortable way to lay, you look up and blink at him questioningly. “Does this work?”

Bachira’s eyes are dark and intense when they meet yours, his expression flat and unreadable, and you can see him visibly swallow before he answers. 

“Perfect,” he confirms with a thumbs up. “I’ll try to make this as quick as possible, so just bear with me! And if you need a break let me know.”

With your hum of agreement, he lifts his pencil up to the canvas and gets to work. The following minutes are spent in silence with nothing but the sound of graphite scratching against paper to fill the air. He starts with long, drawn out shapes at first while he glances back and forth over your body like he’s mapping it out, but when his pencil eventually slows down so do his eyes. Starting at the tops of your shoulders, every time his eyes jump from the canvas back to you your skin prickles pleasantly. 

Down the line of your collarbone, the slope of your neck, the length of your arm - everywhere his eyes focus makes your skin burn warm under the attention. When his gaze finds its way to the curve of your breasts your heart rate picks up instinctively, suddenly hyper aware of how exposed you are in this room alone with him. It’s all you can do not to shudder at the way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth while his pencil works over the canvas, marking out the expanse of your chest. 

Your nipples are hard from the cool air in the room and the way you’re slightly leaning to the side has your boobs pushing together in a way that is no doubt tantalizing if the way Bachira is chewing on his bottom lip is anything to go off of. 

No matter how hard you try, it’s impossible to ignore the fire that starts burning in your lower body when his eyes move up to meet yours for a second, catching you staring right at him with a wanting look on your face. You quickly avert your eyes to the decor in the back of the room, but out of the corner of your eye you can see the flash of a smirk on his lips. You have no choice but to ignore the wetness that starts gathering between your legs while his gaze moves on to the dip of your waist, starting to feel mildly ashamed at how much this is turning you on. 

Although the look on Bachira’s face is calm and focused, his right left bouncing up and down tells you that he must be feeling something too. You can only hope he’s not uncomfortable and try to busy yourself by counting the photos on the wall in your head. It works for a few minutes, but a quiet shuddering intake of breath brings your attention back to Bachira who seems to have moved on to your hips and legs. 

Your heart jumps into your throat at the way he’s staring so intently at your thighs, and you wonder for a second if he can see the shining trail of slick between your legs when the bouncing of his foot stops and he blinks a few times like he’s trying to shake away a persistent thought. Even still, he continues scribbling away and dedicating himself to the task in front of him. 

You distantly feel slightly annoyed at the fact that the easel is just hiding his lower half from your sight, because maybe, just maybe, he’s as affected by this as you are right now. He’s been abnormally silent since he started and keeps getting this distracted look on his face every few minutes, but all you can do is lay there and watch impatiently as his hand skillfully moves over the canvas. 

When he finally moves on to your face, you avoid his eyes and stare somewhere off to the side, but his pencil stops moving so you slowly bring them back to meet his stare. 

“What?” You ask cautiously, feeling yourself throb at the intense look he fixes you with. 

“Keep your eyes on me.” Bachira says lowly. 

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard it starts to sting and nod, suddenly feeling lightheaded and foggy under the hungry way he watches you. The corner of his lips upturn slightly at your compliance, and it makes you swallow thickly. 

“Good girl.”

The white hot feeling of arousal that rushes through you from head to toe at these words sucks every single thought out of your head, only able to helplessly try to hold eye contact with him as he scribbles out the details of your face. His eyes flick between yours and the canvas intermittently, and every time it feels like he’s staring right through you and can see all of the dirty thoughts swimming around in your head. 

The sticky mess between your legs becomes too much and you’re rubbing your thighs together before you can even process the decision to do so. 

Bachira’s eyes follow the movement, and when he looks back to you the yellow of his irises is almost completely swallowed up by his pupils. He sets the pencil down with a loud clack and fixes you with a dangerous expression that you know you won’t be forgetting any time soon. 

“Actually,” Bachira says while standing up and making his way towards you. “I need your help with something else today.”

aly. ty sunny for the artist bacteria bachira brain worms i am still Thinking.

[bllk-after-dark]

egoist.

pairing. ego jinpachi x female!reader

content warnings. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, reader is female but no pronouns used, cockwarming, teasing, mean!dom ego, vaginal sex

Ego is mean. Truly egoistic, his last name oh so fitting of his character. 

He’s mean because you’ve been sitting on his dick what feels for hours to you, trying to keep silent while you sit on his lap. Head hung low, your arms barely keeping you up and leaning dangerously forward, your naked chest almost pressed against the high technology table. Your legs are spread; the skirt you wore has long been discarded and his fingers ghost over your clit, brushing and pressing while humming over what he sees. He’s ignoring you, ignoring how you’re desperate, desperate to finally cum, to finally start moving but he keeps you in place while your pussy quivers around his cock. Everything feels so wet, so nasty to you, sweat running down your back, your thighs shaking, pussy dripping, thoughts spinning-

You throw your head back, a choked moan escaping your lips as he finally thrusts into you, only once but it lets you see stars. 

“Jin- Jin, please, oh, please-” you start begging, babbling without even hearing what you’re saying, but he just hums, arm sneaking around your waist and keeping you in place. Tears fill your eyes as he denies you again, pleasure thrumming and pulsing beneath your skin, while his breath ghosts over your shoulder. A hand starts wandering and he starts to grope you, the one tit in his big hands feeling as if it’s on fire and you think you’re dying when he pinches your nipple. 

You’ve been sitting on his lap, on his cock, for too long now; everything is too much and not enough. He’s punishing you, the sick pleasure of torturing you keeping him painfully hard in you and you just wish, you wish he finally- 

He doesn’t. He continues to keep you on his lap, his long fingers playing your body like a fiddle and you can’t help but let him do it. You try to move away, but your body doesn’t listen to you, leaning closer towards him, closer to the pleasure, no matter how small it is. You lean your head on his shoulder, try to fixate your gaze on his face but tears blur your vision and another sob wracks through your body. 

It only gets worse when he starts commenting about his unpolished gems, his diamonds in the rough and seemingly forgets about you. Forgets your dripping pussy, forgets how you clench around him, forgets the tears running down your face. It pains you, pains you when he ignores you, not only because you crave his attention but it has been so long already, so long you’ve been sitting here, so long you’ve been a good girl. Was it not enough? Were you not enough- 

Before your thoughts could spiral, before your choked down whimpers transformed into sobs, he manhandles your body, pressing you on the table and finally moving. 

“Now, now, no need to cry, my little treasure…” 

He’s still not moving, but his hands are on your back, slowly pushing you, wandering across your feverish skin. You’re trying to hold something, trying to stand on your legs, but everything feels like jelly, your limbs limp and mind hazy. Tears are running down your cheeks, your mouth open, but you don’t even realize it because then- there- he finally- 

Ego finally moves, a deep thrust, jolting your body forward and making your pussy gush. 

“Oh, there- right there,” escapes your mouth, words nothing more but squeals, accompanied by high pitched moans and whines. 

You continue to sob, to babble and take him, take his cock and his insults, those harsh whispered words and gripping hands. You’re close, oh so close and he knows it, fucking you only harder, faster, his hands bruising your waist. You chant his name, beg him for more, beg him to not stop and finally he listens to you, his hips not stopping, his cock in your pussy hitting all the right places and then- 

With a scream you finally come, your whole body seizing and shuddering, cunt tightening and head dropping with a thud on the table. Harsh pants leave your mouth, all while you drool over Ego’s holy high-tech equipment, spread out with your tits pressed against the cool surface and the man who just ruined you standing behind you. 

“There you are,” he chuckles, leaning back as if pulling out of your addicting warmth but then he thrusts back in, slowly picking  the pace up again and you try to twist away. 

You’re still too sensitive, the pleasure almost paining but he doesn’t care. He gave you what you wanted and now he will take what he wants. 

And you can do nothing but lay there and take it. 

anne. we will not talk about this. never. this was written out of pure spite and will forever be my sin. please don't ask me abt it, thank you.

[bllk-after-dark]

a lesson in pleasure.

pairing. reo x nagi x fem!reader

content warnings. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, nsfw, threesome, reo teaches reader and nagi how to get each other off, soft!dom reo, switch!nagi, switch!reader, reader is fembodied and she/her pronouns are used, handjobs, fingering, cum eating, praise, cumming untouched

“Okay, so let me get this straight.” Reo says from where he sits across from you and Nagi on his floor. 

“You guys want to take your relationship a step further, but neither of you know what you’re doing. So you want me to teach you?” He repeats what your boyfriend had bluntly told him only moments prior, looking between the both of you for confirmation. 

Nagi hums his agreement and you shrug, fingers nervously twisting together in your lap. “Yeah pretty much.”

The silence that follows as Reo contemplates his answer drags on for seemingly forever, both you and Nagi sitting tense with anticipation at how his best friend will answer such a request. 

After all it would normally seem kind of strange to ask this of him, but Nagi had offhandedly mentioned a few days ago how he and Reo used to get off together and always had this shared fantasy of having a threesome with somebody. This became relevant only hours later when you and Nagi had ended up having a heated makeout session and wanted to keep going, but failed miserably due to inexperience. 

Neither of you knew what to do with your hands or whether or not you were supposed to be talking, and it killed the mood so fast that you agreed immediately when Nagi suggested this as a solution. Thinking back, maybe you should’ve been a bit more hesitant, but when it comes to Reo - Nagi’s best friend Reo that is unfairly attractive and endlessly charming no matter what he does, who in their right mind would say no?

So, here the two of you are now in front of him, waiting to see how he’ll react. Reo rests his hand on his chin and he glances around the room like he’s solving a difficult equation in his head before he nods stiffly and meets your eyes with his own piercing look. 

“Sure, why not?” Reo agrees easily, pushing himself to his feet. “After you.”

Nagi shares a quick look of surprise with you before standing up and leading you down Reo’s long hallway and to his bedroom. The whole way there, you’re acutely aware of Reo’s purple eyes burning holes into the back of your neck and it sends an excited shiver down your spine, your underwear already beginning to feel damp against your skin at the thought of what you’re about to be doing. 

When you finally reach and enter Reo’s bedroom, Nagi goes to stand by the edge of the bed while you hop up to sit on it. Reo eyes the two of you waiting for him before he shuts the door behind him and leans against it with his arms crossed. 

“Ready?” He asks slowly. When you both nod in unison, a dark look passes over his eyes. “Then strip.”

Nagi starts with his sweatshirt while you go for your socks, then your sweater, and then your shirt. By the time you’re only left in your bra and pants, Nagi is down to his briefs, already hard and twitching underneath them, and Reo quickly calls for him to leave them on. 

“Why?” Nagi asks impatiently. 

Reo only shakes his head in response. “You’ll see. Just help her take everything off.” 

Ever so compliant, Nagi takes a few steps forward and reaches behind you to unclasp your bra. He unsurprisingly gets it on the first try despite never having done it before, the annoying genius he is, and both he and Reo inhale audibly when it falls away from your chest. 

Nagi pauses to stare for so long, sizing you up with his burning gaze, that Reo has to snap his fingers from across the room to bring him back to the present. “Do you want to touch her or something?” Reo huffs in amusement. 

Nagi turns to face him and nods, eyes shining darkly under the bedroom light. 

“Then touch her.”

Nagi certainly doesn’t need to be told twice, and after receiving a consenting nod from you he raises his hands and cups both of your breasts against his palms, squeezing them firmly. His skin is rough against your nipples and it makes you shudder, back arching slightly to press closer to the warm contact. 

Nagi releases them slightly before spreading his hands and kneading into your flesh again, this time catching and squeezing your pebbled nipples in between his fingers until you’re rubbing your thighs together and sighing deeply. 

“Good,” Reo praises, voice sounding closer than before. When you glance over, he’s no longer leaning against the door but waiting a few feet behind where Nagi is standing between your legs in front of the bed. “Get rid of her pants now.”

Biting his bottom lip between his teeth, Nagi releases your boobs from his clutch and slides his hands down your stomach to unhook the button on your jeans and help you shimmy them down your legs. As soon as they hit the floor, he’s making his way back between your thighs. 

When he turns to see what Reo wants him to do next, his throat bobs with a gulp at the way his best friends’ pupils have almost completely swallowed the color of his eyes. He’s staring at the both of you hungrily, and your legs twitch helplessly at the fire that starts burning in your gut. 

“Nagi, stand still.” Reo orders, moving forward to sit next to you on the bed. “And try to keep your hands to yourself.”

“What are we doing?” You can’t help but ask, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice. Reo sends you a smirk that has your eyes flashing in anticipation. 

“I’m going to show you how to make Nagi fall apart.” He responds slyly. One of his hands slowly trails down to Nagi’s thigh, and then he’s brushing the back of his hand over Nagi’s cock through his briefs in a way that has your boyfriend swallowing thickly. “Watch carefully.”

He smoothly dips his hand into Nagi’s underwear and wraps a firm hand around his dick before sliding it out of its confines. Reo licks his lips at the way his fingers look wrapped around him, and Nagi inhales through his teeth sharply when he starts slowly pumping him. You watch with growing curiosity and arousal at the little beads of precum that are already forming at the top. 

“One thing about Nagi,” Reo begins, rubbing the tip of his finger through the clear liquid. “Is that he likes it best when you squeeze tighter towards the top and looser towards the bottom. Like this.”

True to his word, Nagi’s breath speeds up and his eyes flutter shut from the way Reo is moving his hand over his cock. Quiet, stuttered groans are slipping out of his throat and Reo watches him carefully while his hand skillfully moves up and down. 

Nagi’s hands are fisted in the sheets behind him as he tries to hold himself steady, hips twitching and chasing after the pleasure coming from Reo’s hand. 

“Want to give it a try?” He finally asks after a few more moments of watching his best friend melt under his fist. You nod immediately at the question and reach forward to take Reo’s place as soon as he lets go. 

Nagi whimpers helplessly when your hand wraps around his cock, your skin much softer and warmer than Reo’s in comparison. It’s heavy against your palm and much hotter than you expected, and the way you can feel him throbbing in your grip starts forming a hazy, lust filled cloud over your thoughts. 

You start stroking him exactly as Reo had instructed, tightening your hand every time you tug upwards, and the delicious squeeze on his cock successfully drags more heated noises out of him. 

“Feels good right?” Reo mutters lowly near Nagi’s exposed neck. Nagi can only nod in response, too focused on the attention you’re giving him elsewhere, and it has a thoughtful look breaking out over Reo’s face. 

“Start massaging your fingers over the tip, yeah, just like that.” Reo instructs you expertly. “If i’m not mistaken, if you just-“

It seems, however, that you found what he was having you look for, because the second your middle finger slides between the grooves behind the head of his cock Nagi’s knees are nearly buckling and a guttural moan is forcing its way out of his throat. 

Reo has to reach behind him to keep him from collapsing while you continue to abuse the spot and watch Nagi writhe and convulse in utter bliss at how good your hand feels around him. Having already been unbearably hard and twitching uncomfortably in his underwear watching a scene he thought would only ever be a fantasy play out in front of him, Reo finally snaps and hunches forward with a choked off groan as he spills into his pants untouched. 

Nagi follows shortly after, white ropes of cum shooting out over your fingers and onto the floor while he gasps and tries to keep his legs from giving out at the way you’re milking him for all he’s worth. 

When his dick stops twitching in your hand, you finally release him and let out a long, shuddering breath. Before you can even register the movement, Reo is grabbing for your cum covered hand and starts licking your skin clean without a second thought. The heat between your thighs has grown entirely unbearable, and Reo seems to be more than aware of this as he finishes cleaning you up and scoots over to make room for Nagi on the bed. 

“Lay down on your back in the middle.” Reo tells you gently. After letting Nagi catch his breath for a bit longer, he punches his shoulder lightly and smirks. 

“Ready to return the favor?”

Any post orgasm exhaustion that had started taking over quickly cleared from Nagi’s eyes at this. He nods curtly and is already crawling onto the sheets to kneel over you without Reo having to say anything. 

“Excellent,” Reo mumbles. “Spread her legs.”

Complying easily, Nagi pushes your legs up and apart to reveal the absolutely soaked crotch of your panties. The fabric is nearly translucent at this point, and both males in front of you groan lowly at the sight. 

“See all of that?” Reo hisses darkly, nudging Nagi with his shoulder. “That’s all because of you.”

Nagi’s eyelids grow heavy at the sight of you spread out beneath him, desperate and dripping just from jerking him off under his best friend's expert instruction and watchful eye. 

“Fuck.” Nagi murmurs thickly. 

Reo leans back and tilts his head with a knowing grin splitting his cheeks. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Nagi answers by reaching forward to tug the remaining article of clothing off of your body, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood at the string of slick that follows when he pulls it away from your skin. His cock is already twitching back to life as he hungrily takes in the sight between your legs. 

“Watch, and take notes.” Reo instructs while he draws closer. Your hips jolt as soon as he dips his hand down and brushes his fingertips through the wetness of your folds, the roughness from the pads of his fingers catching on your clit perfectly. 

Reo gnaws at his bottom lip impatiently as he starts rubbing small circles against the swollen nub, instantly pulling a cacophony of whimpers and gasps from your throat from finally being touched where you needed it most. 

Nagi’s eyes zero in on the movement sharply as Reo slides his hand down and inserts his index and middle fingers into your twitching pussy. Your back arches slightly off of the bed at the intrusion, your legs twitching and kicking out gently as your body craves for more. 

“You have to start off slowly, and then gradually pick up speed.” Nagi nods along as Reo informs him of the proper way to finger you open, eyeing the way his best friends’ hands have you twitching and gasping for more. 

After watching his best friend work you up for another minute or so, Nagi finally becomes impatient and shifts restlessly. “Let me do it.”

Reo glances at him questioningly out of the corner of his eye. “Are you sure you got it?”

“Yes.” He says roughly. 

That's all Reo needs to hear before he’s sliding his fingers out of you and moving away so that Nagi can take his place. You watch with bated breath as your boyfriend lowers his hand and experimentally prods and rubs circles against your clit, the same way Reo had shown him. 

Your stomach twists and coils with pleasure. “Nagi,” you whine. “please.”

“Go on,” Reo encourages him breathlessly. “put your fingers in.”

As soon as two of his fingers are breaching your twitching walls, you’re grinding your hips against his hand desperately. He's starting slowly, just as Reo had done, but you need more than that and moan wantonly as need clouds your thoughts. 

“Faster, please- ngh!” 

Right as you start to say this, somehow with pinpoint accuracy, Nagi accidentally finds your g spot and digs the tips of his fingers into it just hard enough to have you throwing your head back and screaming. 

“Right there.” Reo says hurriedly. “Keep pressing into that spot, don’t go any faster or slower, just pick a speed and stay consistent.”

Learning quickly, Nagi picks a speed just fast enough to have your thighs twitching helplessly and starts brushing his fingers over the rough spot inside of you with every pass.

After a few moments of this, Reo reaches around Nagi and starts playing with your clit again while he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. The combination has your hands twisting into the sheets and tears threatening to spill from your eyes, the feeling way too much and still not enough at the same time. 

His other, unoccupied hand grips Nagi’s throbbing cock and starts tugging it at the same pace as his fingers pistoning in and out of you. Nagi whines as his hips jerk into his best friends’ touch, already so close again from how unbelievably hot this entire thing is. 

The coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter with each passing second, licking at your nerves until you’re gasping for air and nearly choking on your moans as they force their way out of your mouth. 

“Don't stop,” You plead shakily. “I’m gonna- fuck-“

Nagi and Reo hold their pace steady even as you convulse and gush around and against their fingers, squirming and trembling as your orgasm rips through you like a hurricane and fills your vision with white static. 

Nagi cums a second time from watching you lose yourself beneath him while Reo pumps his dick fervently and releases a long, drawn out groan as ropes of his cum shoot out and land on your stomach. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Reo pants, eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head while he releases into his underwear again, hips stuttering against the part of Nagi’s back that he had been desperately grinding against the whole time. 

As the three of you come down from your highs, the only sound that fills the room is multiple people's harsh breathing. Sweat clings to your body in a thin, sticky layer that helps cool down your overheating body as you catch your breath. 

“That was-“ You start, too blissed out to finish your sentence. 

“Uh huh,” Nagi agrees brainlessly, lifting an arm to wipe his sweat soaked bangs out of his eyes. 

“Glad you guys think so,” Reo chuckles roughly. “Don’t get too comfortable yet though, we’re not done.”

“What?” you and Nagi both exclaim at the same time, whipping your heads around to gape at him. The smile that rests on Reo’s lips is wicked, and you can already feel the heat in your stomach sparking to life again because of it. 

It's going to be a long, long night. 

aly. honestly i have no words i'm just so down bad for reonagi. thanks for coming to my ted talk.