kori @korienee - Tumblr Blog

May 24

✮ DELINCUENTE! ― Aki Hayakawa x F!Reader

✮ "tengo un delincuente en mi habitación! a vece' me lo meta el pelo y a vece' con condón. tengo un delincuente en me habitación, me lo mete en la cocina y a a vece' en el balcón!"

✮ everyone warned you that getting a public safety boyfriend was a bad idea. too bad a pretty face (and a mean dick game) was all it took to make you forget about that. (or; the one where uni!reader and aki match each other's freak.)

✮ cw/tags: pwp, smut, fluff tho too i swear, its somewhere in here, lust at first sight, situationship but it works out this time, whatever the opposite of a slow burn is, premed!reader, boyfriend/tutor!aki, shes a tiny bit of a bimbo, if you squint, cockwarming, oral sex, they're so fucking nasty. omg, facials, improper use of university furniture, squirting. no beta, we die like. ahem.

✮ a/n: HELLO! Okay so i know its definitely NOT kinktober anymore but... uh... happy valentines day?? lmfaooooo! in honor of the bunny bowl, yall get a slutty spanish song. google the lyrics, you'll understand. enjoy my babies x

✮ wc: 11.5k

EVERYONE WARNED YOU about him. You were a student, he was a Public Safety worker and, after all, all they do is cheat and leave… if they don’t die first. Truthfully, you couldn’t have been more glad that you didn’t listen.

No, Aki Hayakawa was the best boyfriend in the whole wide world.

Your relationship wasn’t exactly expected. In fact, you were fresh out of a break up with a shitty boyfriend the week you met him. Or, well, the week the two of you crossed paths.

One autumn night, as you were walking home from a 5-7:45PM Chemistry lecture, you decided to take the scenic route. Normally, you took the main road – the one that wound through the buildings on campus, took you around the road, and led you right up to your not-quite-off-campus dormpartment.

That night, you decided you quite enjoyed the fall weather.

It was one of those few weeks between October and November where the weather was perfect – the trees were painted with hues of red, orange, and yellow while the faint breeze rustled the leaves, carried them into the street.

The Skyline, they called it – the longer route you decided to take. It had earned the name because it was the only place near campus where you could see the entire Tokyo Skyline, and what better time to explore it than at night, when the city became a sea of golden light?

So, there you were, walking up the length of the dimly lit skyline wearing your Wednesday best – a hello kitty baby tee stretched taut over your tits, a pleated denim miniskirt with a belt, a fuzzy pink Juicy Couture jacket covering your arms, and an amount of midriff that most definitely did not suit the weather. Your platform Mary Janes thudded rhythmically against the concrete, and the only sound to be heard for miles – with the exception of some city noise and a few stoners toking up a bong a little ways ahead – was the sound of your gold jewelry jingling about.

Nowhere near as scared as you probably should have been, you flicked through a playlist on your phone, a grin befalling your pretty, glossed lips when one of your favorite songs came on.

The path ahead was dimly lit. The trees shrouded most of the light coming down from the full moon. It wasn't until you rounded the corner, in fact – lost in thought about what costume you would wear in three weeks for Halloweekend – that you began to feel unsettled.

You had to pass through an alleyway between two tall buildings to get back to your dorm.

Again, not that you were scared, or anything.

You kept telling yourself you weren’t scared – you’d done this walk before, you were tougher than you looked, whatever– but that didn’t stop your pulse from ticking high beneath your perfumed throat, didn’t stop the way your fingers twitched in your fuzzy sleeves like maybe you should’ve just taken the normal route like a sane person.

Then something moved.

A flicker in the corner of your eye – too fast, too wrong, like a glitch ripped out of a nightmare and dropped right into your pretty little walk home. A shape, small but crooked, like a child drawn by someone who had never seen one before. Pointed ears. Needle–thin smile. Eyes glowing like embers in dying ash, hungry and bright.

It tilted its head. Your breath caught.

And then, because of course your life was a fucking joke, the tiny thing hissed – high and shrill, like a kettle boiling in Satan’s asshole – before launching toward you.

Your brain short-circuited. You shrieked – a sharp, startled noise you would absolutely deny later – and suddenly you were running, platforms slapping stone, jewelry chiming frantically like little golden alarm bells. The thing skittered after you, claws scraping, teeth clicking.

You didn’t look back. You really did not want to see it again.

Your heel caught on uneven pavement – because the universe hated you – and you went down hard, ass smacking cold concrete, palms scraping. Pain shot through your thumb as your nail snapped clean in half.

Fuck!

“Oh my god,” you gasped, staring at the broken acrylic like the world had ended. “No, no, no–”

Those were $120 nails.

But there was no time to mourn, because the devil-thing was still coming, and your heart was punching through your ribs, and you were scrambling backward on trembling legs, skirt riding up, knees stinging, breath shaking as you pressed yourself into the corner of the alley, small and desperate and very much regretting your scenic route.

Air shifted – a cold exhale, pressure looming over you. Its claws lifted, casting a jagged shadow across your face. You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers digging into gritty pavement–

And then a wet, tearing sound split the air. A strangled, guttural squeal – cut short.

You screamed anyway, hands flying up, because something had died right in front of you and you were not built for this and–

Silence.

Slowly, trembling, you opened your eyes.

The creature hung impaled, pinned like some cursed insect on a gleaming blade. Blood spread across the pavement, steaming in the cold night air. And behind it – tall, composed, backlit like a dark seraph with a sword instead of a halo – stood a tall man.

Dark hair tied back. Sharp jaw. Broad shoulders that blocked half the moonlight. Blue eyes that seemed to rival the ocean. A poker face, like he did this every night and the universe had yet to surprise him.

He withdrew his sword like the entire situation meant nothing to him. You physically flinched at the sound of the creature’s body collapsing into a wet pile at your feet. Then, slowly, you wiped the goop off of your chin and looked up at him.

You stared up at him, chest heaving, clothes rumpled, one nail ruined forever, adrenaline buzzing under your skin.

You weren’t dead. Furthermore, he was fucking hot.

The man extended a hand down to you, clearly aiming to help you up, but the moment you heard his voice, you damn near melted into the floor.

It was a deep, velvety, dreamy croon of, “Are you alright?”

And, just like that, you were sucked in.

Completely bewitched by him, you accepted his hand and let him tug you to your (unsteady) feet. You swayed a bit, still finding a balance on your shoes, and he caught you before you could take a tumble.

He was tall. Obnoxiously, unfairly tall. The kind of tall that made you feel both tiny and protected and, honestly, kind of stupid for wearing platforms, because even with them, you still had to tilt your head all the way back just to meet his gaze.

Your eyes definitely had little cartoon hearts in them. Whatever. You were a sucker for a Prince Charming.

His gaze flicked over you – your messy skirt, scraped knees, glimmering gloss, trembling breath – and when he spoke, his voice dropped even lower.

“A girl like you shouldn’t be out here alone this late.”

Oh, wow. Yep. That one went straight to the puss. Healthy? Probably not. Did your brain care? Absolutely not.

You stared up at him, heartbeat tripping, sparkles still dancing in your head. “Who… who are you?” you breathed, voice embarrassingly soft. “And how did you– I mean, what are you doing here?”

Like you were trying to piece together reality while your brain was actively melting in real time.

He didn’t answer yet – just looked down at you with that cool, steady calm, sword still dripping in his other hand like it was the most casual accessory in the world – and the only thing louder than the silence was the absolute chaos of your pulse screaming:

This man? Dangerous.

Unbelievably dangerous.

And you?

Unbelievably turned on.

Before you could ask the handsome stranger his name, he answered your question from earlier. “Aki Hayakawa. Lieutenant Captain of Public Safety Special Division Four,” He answered, with the kind of stern tone that suited someone of his position. “I was on my way home from patrolling the area and I heard you screaming.”

He handed you his handkerchief. Without thinking, you took it. Used it to wipe your face.

Oh my god.

He’s a Public Safety Captain.

“You saved my life,” You stated the obvious. Then, quickly, you searched your pockets. You could have sworn that you had a twenty or a fifty tucked away in there. “Here– Let me… Let me repay you.”

“I don’t need your money,” He deadpanned.

You huffed, shoving the fifty back into your pocket, cheeks hot – not from embarrassment, obviously, but from indignation (and maybe the way he was still so close). “I don’t like owing people,” you muttered, arms crossing, even though one of your knees was still shaking from the whole almost-being-maimed-by-a-devil thing.

He didn’t move. You could feel his gaze, heavy enough to press into your collarbone, tracing the lingering tremor in your hands, the stubborn lift of your chin.

“It’s not a debt,” he said, slow, low, like his voice had hands and they were brushing against your spine. “You don’t owe me anything.”

God, why did that make your lungs feel weird?

“Okay, well,” you sniffed, refusing to just stand there being… grateful and flustered and whatever else this was, “I’m doing it anyway.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked – something between faint amusement and disbelief. It made him even hotter. Which was honestly rude.

“I work at the Pink Lotus,” you continued, words tumbling faster than your brain could filter them. “If you ever come by, I’ll comp your first drink.” You lifted a hand, as if sealing a contract in the air between you. “Not because I owe you. Just… consider it courtesy for saving me.”

It was a ridiculous proposition.

“I’ll be there late tomorrow,” you added, trying very hard to sound casual and not like you had just been rescued by the hottest man alive. Then, being sure to bat your lashes real pretty at him, you said; “Come stop by… Lieutenant.”

His eyes flickered – surprise, amusement, something dark and unreadable – and you felt heat spark under your skin like someone plugged you into a socket.

And somehow far too gentle for someone holding a smoking-sharp blade, he replied:

“...We’ll see.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure where you’d gotten the confidence to ask a Lieutenant Captain out (kinda). Hell, you didn’t even think he would really stop by.

But, there he was, right when you came back from your 15 the next night, perched on a stool at the end of the bar in a suit that looked identical to the one he’d been wearing the night before. He looked like something straight out of a fucking dream.

You turned around before he could see you, straightening out your pigtails, your apron, your obnoxiously low cut shirt (which you wore to get good tips, just like the pigtails).

Shit. He’s here.

Act cool.

Act cool. You inhaled, rolled your shoulders back, then walked over like your legs weren’t stress–jello.

The moment his eyes lifted and locked on you, you felt it – that flash of recognition, something dark and sharp. It stole half of your breath and your entire moral compass.

Oh, he’s bad news.

“Well,” you teased, leaning lightly on the counter like your heart wasn’t punching applause inside your ribs, “look who survived another night.”

A faint curve at the corner of his mouth – almost a smile. “Pigtails, huh?”

The tone slid right through your spine – like a serpent, wrapping its body around your neck until you felt like you couldn’t fucking breathe.

“What?” You teased, “You don’t think I look cute?”

His gaze lingered – slow, deliberate, taking you in like he was cataloguing details you didn’t even know you had. The corner of his mouth dipped, not quite a smile, more like the idea of one he wasn’t ready to let you see yet.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied, voice dipping low. “There’s a better word for it.”

Your pulse tripped so hard you nearly leaned on the bar to stay upright. Heat curled under your skin, fast and embarrassing and stupid and God, why did he get to sound like that?

You bit your lip before you could swallow the reaction down – and his gaze dropped to the movement like he’d been waiting to see it. “Dangerous compliment for a man in uniform,” you murmured, trying – failing – to sound unaffected.

His brow arched slowly, like he was enjoying this more than he should. “Is it?”

Why did his voice sound like that? Why did everything always sound so erotic when he was the one saying it?

You swallowed, fingers curling lightly around a bar rag. “Alright, Captain. What can I get you?”

“Surprise me.”

That tone should’ve been illegal. That voice should’ve been regulated. It made a shiver skate down your ribs and you hated how obvious it probably was.

“I’ve been told I make the best mojitos in the area,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, playful instead of breathless.

“Give me one of those,” he answered. “And whatever you do, don’t hold back on the rum.”

Word.

“Aye aye, Captain,” you cooed, and it came out way more flirty than you intended but there was no saving it now – your cheeks were warm, your pulse fluttering, your hands suddenly efficient and clumsy all at once as you grabbed mint and sugar and ice with the giddy urgency of someone making a drink for a man who could ruin her life simply by existing in it.

You snuck glances at him while shaking the cocktail – and every time, he was already watching you. Languid, a little amused, like he could see straight through your intentions and didn’t mind one fucking bit.

By the time his glass hit the counter, hours – or minutes, who knew – had melted together.

You were leaning forward over the bar, then, chattering with him between orders, chin propped on your hand, neckline of your shirt dipping, voice soft and exaggerated… just for him.

You flirted shamelessly on the clock – smiling too much, laughing too easily, letting your fingers trail the bar top right near his drinks like gravity was tugging you toward him.

And him?

He just sat there, cool and still, sipping your cocktails like the world outside didn’t exist – eyes fixed on you like you were the most interesting thing that had walked into his night.

God, you were in trouble.

So deep in trouble, in fact, that you played right along, batting your lashes and leaning into him like you weren’t still on the job.

“So,” he said finally, voice smooth and low, “do you live around here?”

You leaned forward on your elbows, chin tilted, “Mmhm. Student apartments up a few blocks.”

“The University?” He quirked a brow. When you nodded, he added, “No shit. What do you study?”

For some reason, out of all the flirting he’d done that night, that was the comment that made you blush. “I’m, uh…” You cleared your throat. “Pre-Med. Senior.”

Hayakawa’s eyes widened at that. “Didn’t know I was speaking to a physician. My apologies, doctor.”

You grinned, bright as the sun because no one ever talked to you like that. Most guys never saw past the whole bimbo getup and huge rack. Most guys didn’t care about what you wanted to do with your life.

“Not quite,” You giggled.

“So why a bar?” He asked.

A light shrug, hair swaying with you. “It’s close to my dorm. I walk.”

His eyes flicked briefly toward the door, toward the street beyond it. “You don’t have a car?”

You popped your lip gloss open purely for something to do, reapplying slowly, deliberately, like every swipe might be seen by him and you very much wanted it to be. “Never got my license,” you said with a little bite to your lower lip afterward – shameless, sure, but subtle enough to pretend it wasn’t on purpose. “Guess I like being chauffeured.”

His eyebrow twitched – amused, but not fooled. “Is that right?”

You smirked, leaning just a little closer like you were sharing a secret. “Mm. Makes me feel… taken care of.”

Your pulse was ridiculous. You were ridiculous. But the way his gaze sharpened, softened, heated – all at once – made every ounce of embarrassment worth it.

“Pity. I made the commute on foot myself.”

“Right after work?” You asked. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Aren’t you scared? That walk gets a bit dangerous where I found you,” he hummed, quiet and thoughtful, pretending not to notice your blatant attempt at being irresistible even though you could feel he did. “And dark.”

You traced the rim of a clean glass with your fingertip, eyes lowering then lifting back to him slowly, purposefully. “It’s okay,” you breathed, feigned innocence dripping into a slow grin. “I can handle myself.”

He held your gaze – steady, heavy, fond in a way that punched a hole straight through your chest.

“Maybe,” he murmured, leaning just the tiniest bit forward. “You’re a big girl. I never said you couldn’t.”

And, okay, that line felt like a sucker-punch – somehow hotter than any playful line you’d thrown at him tonight.

Just like that, you were ready to be bent over the counter right then and there.

Who said that?

His voice softened, still threaded with that cool composure but warmer underneath. “If you’d like… I can walk you back. Make sure you get home safe.”

Every bone in your body – all 206 of them – screamed at you that this was a horrible idea.

Not that he would hurt you, but that something would arise from this. It was simple really. A hot Public Safety officer walks into a bar and asks to walk you home, and you hadn’t gotten any action in weeks…

“Don’t want you getting yourself in any trouble again.”

Your brows lifted, lips curling slow. “Oh? And here I thought you wanted an excuse to spend more time with me, Lieutenant.”

All 206 bones.

Shit, I’m tryna make it 207.

His gaze dipped – just a fraction, down to your chest, your lips – then returned to yours with a flicker that made your stomach drop.

God, he’s devilishly handsome.

“Maybe I do,” he said quietly. “You’re awfully trusting of a stranger.”

“You saved my life,” You reiterated.

“So, what, some guy saves the day in an alleyway, and you trust him?”

Your heart actually stuttered, and you fought the urge to fumble your shaker like an idiot.

“Well,” you whispered, all sugar-strung confidence, “if you insist on protecting me, I guess I can’t say no.”

He exhaled something close to a laugh – soft, brief, still unbelievably fond – before settling back in his seat. His eyes dropped down to your hand. “You fixed your broken nail.”

“Oh,” you breathed, trying not to visibly preen at his comment. “Yeah.” Your tone turned playful with the flick of a switch. “You like them?”

Before you could stop yourself, you held your hand out for inspection – way too close to his face, way too obvious – but you didn’t care. He didn’t, either.

A set of long stiletto acrylic nails – pink french tips painted on the tops.

His fingers brushed yours like he had been looking for an excuse to touch you, lifting your hand into his. His thumb traced the sharp edge of a nail like he wanted it to cut him, and it wasn’t sensual on purpose – you could tell – but god, it might as well have been a hand around your waist with the way your stomach flipped.

Your face was on fire. Your pulse felt like it was trying to escape your body. If he didn’t let go soon you were either going to pass out or climb into his lap.

His attention on you alone made you feel like every other man on earth was irrelevant.

You snatched your hand back at the last reasonable second, tapping the bar twice, licking your lips like you meant to look composed. Working. Right. I’m working.

“Ready to settle your tab?” you asked, “I can get you your first drink for free, like I promised.”

He shook his head once. “I’m paying full price.”

You pouted – flirty by accident. “Will you ever let me settle my debt with you?”

He slid his card onto the bar. Not a smirk, not really, just the ghost of one, like he wasn’t allowed to give you more. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “Will you let me walk you back to your dorm?”

Your heartbeat did some embarrassing gymnastics.

Only if you fuck me until I can’t walk.

Damn, must have been the wind.

You twirled a lock of hair, trying to play it cool when your knees already felt weak. “Sure,” you breathed, girlish and smug and dizzy. “Yeah. I get off in a few. Can you wait?”

His answer came quicker than you expected: “I have all night.”

You turned around before he could see the way his words melted every vertebrae in your spine, forcing yourself to focus on polishing down the bar. But your hands shook just enough to give you away.

By the time the two of you reached your building, you were practically buzzing, the night warm around you and your brain absolutely useless from replaying the whole walk on loop. You stopped in front of your door, turning to him with that little grin you couldn’t get rid of if you tried.

“Oh– wait.” You fumbled in your apron pocket, triumphant when your fingers brushed soft fabric. “Let me give you back your handker–”

“Just keep it.” He cut you off, gently, like he already knew what you were doing and wasn’t about to indulge your excuses. His gaze dipped to your hands, then back to your mouth. “You’ll see me around.”

Your pulse tripped. “When?” you breathed, stepping closer – way too close, close enough your perfume hung between you, sweet and shameless.

His eyelids lowered just a little, like this was testing him. “How’s Thursday at seven sound?” He paused the exact right amount of time, like he was letting you feel the weight of it. “There’s this restaurant I wanted to go to. Could use some company.” A beat. “You know… if you want to repay me with your presence.”

Your brain immediately went oh hell yes and also I will absolutely disgrace myself for this man.

You tilted your head, lashes batting just enough to be dangerous. “Are you asking me out on a date, Lieutenant?”

“Depends,” he murmured, voice steady but eyes betraying him. “Only if you want it to be one… Do you?”

For half a second you just stared at him, heat curling up your ribs, breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat. Then, bold and stupid with adrenaline, you rose up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek – wicked with intention.

“Have a good night, Lieutenant Hayakawa,” you whispered, stepping away with a sly little sway in your shoulders, like your body couldn’t help but gloat.

You made sure to sway your hips as you walked away. You know, give him something nice to look at.

The date went ridiculously well.

He showed up early, dark button‑down, coat draped just-so, flowers in hand, and your chest already did that stupid fluttery thing before you even smiled. Actual flowers. Wrapped carefully, like he’d thought about it, like he cared.

He held the door, pulled out your chair, tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he’d been doing it his whole life.

You kept sipping your drink, trying to look calm, trying to act like you weren’t thinking about how ridiculously good he smelled, how close he sat, and definitely not how safe you felt in his company.

By dessert, you were buzzing. Not drunk – not yet – but he made you feel like you were fucking floating.

Of course he paid. You reached for your purse, full of stubborn, independent pride, and he just slid his card forward like it had never been a question. Gentleman, menace, heartbreak in one tall, dark package. You bit your lip, pretending it didn’t feel like a punch of something – something dangerous and thrilling – straight through your chest.

The drive home was a blur of gold streetlights and soft hum of the engine. You were a little tipsy, a little giddy, a little… undone. The world outside the window could have been smoke for all you cared, because sitting there next to him, even across the console, felt like standing too close to fire. Not enough to burn – yet – but enough that you could feel it.

When he pulled up to your building, your stomach knotted.

You turned toward him, soft grin spreading, a little breathless, and teased, “You know… now I owe you again. ’Cause you paid and all.”

Hayakawa – whose name you learned was Aki – didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he just kind of looked at you, like he was savoring your presence.

“I was only doing my job,” He said, “I don’t expect any payment from you. I did it because I wanted to.”

God, this whole chivalrous act is making me wetter than the god damn ocean.

Of course he had to say it like that – all earnest and heroic and stupidly noble – like he wasn’t single‑handedly responsible for the way your stomach was somersaulting and your knees felt suspiciously weak.

Chivalry should have come with a warning label. Side effects may include: dizziness, racing pulse, and uncontrollable urge to bounce on it like a fucking rabbit.

You stepped in closer – close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. Your fingers found the end of his tie, tugging it gently between them.

“That’s a shame, Lieutenant,” you murmured, gaze tipping up through your lashes, “because I can think of one other way I could get even with you.”

It wasn’t subtle at all.

His eyes sharpened. “And what’s that?” he asked, voice suddenly lower.

God, you thought. Your best friend was going to kill you when you told them about this.

“You got anywhere to be tonight?” Soft. Curious. Innocent enough – if one ignored the way your fingers still toyed with his tie.

A smile tugged at his mouth, unguarded and devastatingly attractive. You really were doomed. “No,” he said, nose almost brushing yours, the space between you too thin.

You hummed like this was brand‑new information and leaned in just a hair. “Because it gets sooo lonely living here all by myself,” you whispered dramatically, feigning a pout but failing miserably at hiding your true intentions. “I get scared, sometimes.”

You paused, worried your lower lip between your teeth – then brightened like an idea had just struck.

“Maybe you should come up. You know… in case any scary devils try attacking me in the stairwell.”

He exhaled – slow, amused, and dangerously pleased. His tongue flicked across his bottom lip as he considered you, gaze flicking to your mouth, then back up, like he had to remind himself to fucking behave.

“That simply won’t do,” he murmured, eyes warm and infuriatingly attentive. “Can’t have you breaking a nail again.”

Your smile curled, sweet and wicked in equal measure. “I could use some protection,” you teased lightly, tug still gentle on his tie. “And it’s not every day a tall, strong, handsome officer walks me home.”

A beat. Two. His jaw flexed, slow, measured, but his eyes softened. “Be careful saying things like that,” he said, just above a whisper. “You might have worse problems than a devil attack.”

You tilted your head, letting a slow, mischievous smile spread across your lips. “Oh? And what kind of problems would you be thinking about, Lieutenant?” You traced the length of his tie with a finger, eyes daring him to answer.

And moments later, you had Lieutenant Captain Hayakawa in your bed – pressing you up against the sheets while he nipped and sucked at your neck. His hair was down, tickling your back when he leaned down over you. The taste of his lips lingered – wine, mint, something smoky.

But, fuck, you couldn’t even think straight, not when he was driving you into the mattress from behind like you were a toy. One hand was pulling on a fistful of your hair while the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.

You couldn’t hold back the sounds spilling out of you – high, unsteady, too loud, too needy to hide. He chuckled against your shoulder, breath hot and infuriatingly calm even though you could feel the strain in every inch of him.

“You’re getting loud, pretty baby,” he murmured, voice low enough to vibrate through you. He pressed in closer, chest flush to your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You trying to get a noise complaint?”

You tried to form a retort, or anything that sounded like control, but all that came out was a broken gasp – and his quiet laugh told you he liked that more anyway.

“Careful,” he whispered, tugging you back into him like he wasn’t done proving something tonight. “Keep sounding like that and the whole building’s gonna know who’s fucking you like this.”

As if on cue, you gasped out, “Aki– hah– fuck!”

You didn’t give a shit who heard. You were being fucked within an inch of your life.

Who would have thought that the best dick of my life came from a Public Safety Lieutenant?

“You like being fucked dumb, hmm?” He teased you, but never once did he stop rhythmically pounding you into the bed. Without another warning, he tugged you up by the hair until you were kneeling, fucking you at an angle that had you seeing stars.

Again, again, again, he drove his hips into you, burying his dick so deep inside of you that you couldn’t even think straight.

His hand left your hair to snake its way around your jaw, stuffing two fingers into your mouth to keep you quiet when you began to cry out louder.

Then, before you could stop it, you felt it – something like an urge to pee, but it felt too good to be that. No, you were about to–

“Mnh!” You moaned out, hips stuttering widely while you squirted all over your beloved Lieutenant (and your even more beloved Juicy Couture sheets). The pleasure rippled through you, dripped down your thighs while you made a mess on his cock. The sensation was strong enough to make you double over.

Never done that before, you thought.

He was there to catch you before you could keel over, pulling you back up and craning your head back against his chest while he fucked you stupid. “Shit, You’re so fucking beautiful,” He panted, “Fucking perfect. And you’re all mine, yeah?”

“Fuck, yes!” You shouted, feeling his teeth graze your neck while he kissed his way up it. “‘S yours– all yours–”

At this rate, you were about to cum again, which would set a new record for you. Was it the third? Fourth? You couldn’t remember. One minute, he had been eating you out like a man starved, and the next, well…

“Aki! Oh my fucking God–” The pleasure practically had you melting. You were close. So close. So fucking close. “Fuck me!”

And then his hand slipped up, gentle but sure, fingers claiming your jaw as he craned your head back toward him. The room blurred; your pulse didn’t. His forehead brushed yours, breath shuddering against your mouth like even he wasn’t steady anymore.

His kiss wasn’t frantic – it was deeper than that, reverent, like he wanted to breathe you in before you slipped out of reach. His lips caught yours again, slow and shaking, like he couldn’t get close enough no matter how he fucking tried.

“Perfect. Such a good girl for me. So perfect for me.” he murmured against your mouth, voice ragged and earnest in a way that felt dangerous. His thumb swept the corner of your lips, tender like you were something fragile and holy at the same time. “I need you to cum for me, pretty.”

You swore the world dropped out beneath you at the sound of his voice – not just because of what he said, but because of how he said it.

Like he meant it. Pretty.

Your body was breaking on another orgasm before you could stop it, back arching against him while you let it wash over you.

One heartbeat you were arching against him, toes curling against the sheets, breath shaking – and the next your body seized around a feeling so intense it made sound rip out of you without shape, without thought, without anything except him.

“Aki–” It came out like a strangled prayer, like you were saying his name at the moment your world cracked wide open.

He went rigid behind you.

A sharp, stunned breath broke from his chest – not controlled, not quiet, nothing like the disciplined man who always held himself together. His hand clenched at your waist, his forehead pressed to the side of your neck like he needed you to feel all of him while he followed you right over the edge.

“God–” His voice fractured against your skin, low and helpless. “I got you. I got you, Baby.”

You didn’t even know what your body was doing anymore. Everything pulsed, tightened, unraveled; you shook so hard it felt like something inside you snapped. Your vision blew white. Your lungs forgot how to work. Your fingers dug into the mattress, then into nothing at all.

Somewhere in the rush, you heard him gasp your name – broken, reverent, overwhelmed like the feeling dragged him under just as violently.

And then it was too much.

Your body convulsed once in the aftershock, a trembling, uncontrolled clutch of sensation – and consciousness just… slipped.

Yeah, you came so hard you passed out.

And, around thirty minutes later, you woke up on the couch – groggily trying to make sense of your surroundings before piecing the scene in front of you together. Your thighs, bare. Your body, draped in his dress shirt like a nightgown, a sliver of skin revealed by the buttons that showed a collection of nasty looking hickeys on your tits. And, across the room, a shirtless Aki – doing… laundry?

You groaned, reaching for your sore back, and the sound caught his attention.

He turned around, dumping a cup full of laundry powder into your machine before closing the door and hitting start. Then, with a smile, he walked over to where you were sprawled out like a painting – leaned down and kissed you slowly, gently enough to make you horny all over again.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he murmured again, voice low and amused like he already knew what you looked like right now – dazed, ruined in the softest way.

God, he looked unfair. Hair falling loose around his face, chest bare and sculpted in a way that made your stomach do a little humiliating flip. Light caught on the faint sheen of sweat still drying on his collarbone, glimmering along the edge of muscle like someone had painted him in gold leaf. His slacks hung low on his hips, like he’d dragged them back on in a hurry.

The domesticity of it was what really undid you – the laundry machine humming, the quiet apartment, his stupidly gentle smile aimed only at you.

You blinked up at him, still wrapped in his shirt, and felt that tide roll in your chest again.

“Hi,” you breathed, because your brain apparently only had one syllable left in it.

His smile deepened. Damn him. “Back with me?”

You nodded, but your eyes were already trailing down his torso – the cut lines of muscle, the faint bruises your mouth had left like little trophies across his throat, the dip of his waist before sense stopped you from staring lower.

He noticed.

Of course he did. A soft laugh escaped him – quiet, fond. “Careful,” he teased quietly, brushing his knuckles along your jaw. “You look like you’re planning something.”

You didn’t deny it.

Instead, you curled your fingers into the front of his waistband – just enough to pull him closer. He yielded instantly, knees sinking into the cushion beside your hips.

“I am,” you whispered, tugging him that last inch until his breath ghosted your lips. “Come here.”

His eyes darkened. “You just woke up,” he said, like he was reminding you, like he was reminding himself, voice barely steady. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Your voice wasn’t strong, but it was certain. “Come here.”

He exhaled through a smile, helpless. Not cocky – overwhelmed. Like you could ask him for anything and he’d breakhimself trying to give it to you.

Then he leaned in, not pouncing, not rushing – lowering himself over you slowly, one palm resting beside your head, the other brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek like you were fragile crystal and not the same person who had passed out on him thirty minutes ago while he spilled white hot pleasure deep inside of you.

His forehead met yours. His breath mingled with yours. And then he kissed you again.

“You’re going to kill me,” he whispered against your mouth, voice so soft it made your heart flutter. “And I think I’m gonna let you.”

Your fingers slid up his ribs, slow, savoring, like you had all the time in the world – because right now, in your quiet living room with laundry spinning and your body wrapped in his clothes and his heartbeat pressed to your chest, it felt like you did.

You pulled him down on top of you and he followed, willingly, quietly, like gravity had nothing to do with it.

That became a habit. For a few weeks, the two of you kept seeing each other. It was the same thing every time – he would take you out at least once a week. The two of you started out at your apartment, but before long, the once a week turned into twice. Once at yours, once at his. He would show up to your bar sometimes, too, just to keep you distracted. He would walk you home – date, bar, school, you name it.

You were dickwhipped. You’d met his roommates, his coworkers. He’d met yours. By the time two months of this had rolled around, the two of you had slipped into something so close to a relationship that it drove you crazy.

Why? Because neither of you decided to label it.

One night, when he had brought you out to drink with him and his coworkers at a local izakaya, his partner, Himeno, made a joke to you.

He’d taken his hair down at some point, soft strands skimming his jaw, and the collar of his shirt sat just a little too open from the heat and the sake. Every time he leaned in to say something – to order you another plate you pretended you didn't finish on purpose, to murmur a quiet “you tired?” like it was just the two of you in the room – it sent something embarrassingly warm through your chest.

You, meanwhile, were trying very hard to look normal. You weren’t sure how successful you were. Especially not after last night.

And then Himeno plopped into the seat across from you, chin in her hand, eyes glittering with the kind of amusement reserved for people who know too much.

“So you two are disgustingly cute tonight,” she whispered, already tipsy and delighted about it.

You blinked. “We’re not–”

Himeno raised her brows, slow, dramatic. “You’re not?” she repeated, like she was confirming whether the sky was still blue.

“No,” you insisted, maybe a little too quickly. “We’re not dating.”

A beat. The longest beat in recorded history.

Finally, Himeno smiled wickedly. She leaned forward like she was letting you in on a secret.

“…Does he know that?”

Your brain malfunctioned. Fully short-circuited.

You swallowed, unable to meet her eyes. “I mean… we never… we’re seeing each other, but it’s casual,” you muttered, attempting humor to save face, voice embarrassingly soft.

Himeno snorted into her sake. “Sweetheart, nothing about this is casual.”

Aki finally glanced at you then, lashes low, expression unreadable in the dim light – except it wasn’t. Not to you. There was something in it that made your stomach drop and your heart stumble and your breath go nowhere useful.

Possessive. Tender. A little smug. Like he wasn’t planning on correcting her..

Like the only person who hadn't caught up yet… was you.

And when he quietly nudged your knee again under the table, all you could do was stare down at your drink and try not to combust.

That night, on the walk home, you asked the question.

He slowed a half-step, not stopping but shifting like the question tugged right behind his ribs. He turned his head toward you, eyes dark and steady.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” You swallowed. “Everyone thinks we’re dating. What are we?”

A beat. His brows knit, genuinely confused.

“…Are we not?”

Your heart stuttered. “You never asked me to be your girlfriend.”

There was a flicker in his expression – surprise, then something like embarrassment, like you’d caught him committing a social crime he didn’t realize existed.

“Oh.” He blinked once. “Right. I guess I didn’t.” He scratched the back of his neck, sighing softly. “I’m sorry, I’m not exactly… experienced with this.”

You lifted a brow. “With what?”

He looked away, cheeks faintly tinted – whether from the cold or you, you couldn’t tell. “Dating. Relationships. I just kinda assumed we both knew we were together” His voice dipped a little, and you could hear the edge under it – not aggressive, just possessive in that quiet, Aki way. “We go on dates, don’t we? I take you out. I stay over. You wear my clothes. We fuck. A lot. I don’t do any of that with anyone else.”

Your breath caught. Fair point.

“And you look at me like…” he stopped himself, “I don’t know, I just kinda thought we both agreed to date.”

You nudged his arm, forcing a little smile. “Usually, you ask.”

A frustrated exhale left him – not at you, but at himself. Then he stopped walking, turning to face you fully, snow-melt softness in his eyes and something steadier beneath it.

“Right. Okay,” he murmured. “Let me be clear, then. I want you. I want to be with you – be your boyfriend, If you’ll have me.”

“I want that too,” you whispered.

Something loosened in him, visibly – shoulders lowering, breath easing out. Then he stepped closer, hands warm as they cupped your jaw, and kissed you – slow, sure.

Like a boyfriend would.

When he pulled back, forehead leaning against yours, his voice was soft, almost shy. “So… we’re together, right?”

“We are,” you murmured.

And that’s how you wound up here, seated on his lap with his dick buried inside of you while he helped you study for a history Gen Ed you couldn’t quite understand.

History was a point of contention for you. This was evident to anyone who knew you, and anyone on your Close Friends story who subjected themselves to viewing since you had taken the course up. It seemed simple enough upon registration, truly, I mean, how hard could Japanese History get?

Very hard, apparently. Hard enough that – in a last ditch effort to pass – you enlisted the help of your tired, overworked Public Safety boyfriend. In all honestly, you weren’t entirely sure if he had a historical basis to begin with when you’d proposed a study session. In your eyes, he was the dictionary, the search engine, and the thesaurus. He could have lied to you, and you would never have doubted him. Not even for a second.

So, on the topic of hard things, that’s how you wound up situated on the chair with him, seated on his cock while he wrapped his arms around you from behind. Your eyes traced the length of the paper, scanning the reading. The chair wasn’t exactly built for two, and you had to shift every so often to keep your legs from going numb – that was withoutaccounting for the dull, throbbing need that bubbled in your core.

You tried to focus on the dense block of text about the transformation of the early Edo period, but your mind refused to cooperate. His warmth seeped through the thin fabric of your clothes, through your walls. His breath brushed against the side of your neck each time he exhaled, slow and unhurried, and it kept throwing your concentration off.

Like he wasn’t so deep inside of you that you could hardly think straight.

“You’re not reading,” Aki murmured against your ear, his voice low, more amused than scolding.

“I am,” you muttered defensively, though the words sounded weak even to you. You adjusted again, tucking one leg under the other. His hands instinctively shifted with you, steadying your hips. His thumbs dragged, almost absentmindedly, over the fabric of your skirt.

You swallowed hard, staring down at the same sentence you’d been rereading for the past five minutes. “I’m trying.”

He hummed softly in response, a low sound that reverberated through his chest and into your back. “Doesn’t look like it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips curved despite yourself. “You try reading history, asshole.”

“I did. I aced it in highschool,” he countered lazily, “Or maybe, stop squirming and study.”

Slowly, teasingly, his hands inched below the fabric of your skirt, finally hiking it up and exploring the smooth skin beneath. Large hands, warm hands, running their way up your thighs, your hips, then settling on your ass, where they massaged the skin there.

You could feel him, practically pulsing with the urge to move. You could feel his heartbeat, the echo of it deep inside of you, nestled deep, so deep. The sensation was enough to make you squirm.

But he didn’t move, of course, as controlled as ever.

“Read,” he said softly. Not a command, exactly, but close enough that it sent a shiver down your spine. “Start over. Early Edo period.”

You inhaled, steadying yourself, and forced your eyes back to the page. The words were there. Your mouth even formed them, though your voice trembled slightly as you began reading aloud.

“Tokugawa shogunate established–” You stammered. As if on cue, his dick throbbed inside of you, effectively making you fumble your words. “Shit.”

A sharp smack to the side of your thigh – just below your ass – made you suck in a harsh breath.

“Full sentence,” He corrected you. It wasn’t rude, per se, but…

Fuck, it turned you on.

“The Tokugawa shogunate established a centralized government under Tokugawa Ieyasu…” You gritted out. It took every ounce of strength you had left in you – which, admittedly, wasn’t much – to not roll your hips back and forth. Not by much. Not enough to give you what you needed, but maybe he wouldn’t notice.

Maybe, just maybe… it would take the edge off. Just a little.

“Good. Next,” He practically purred into your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe while his thumb rubbed circles on your thigh.

“The daimyo were reorganized through… land distribution and the sa… uh…” You trailed off.

Another quick slap to the side of your ass made you jump, cunt pulsing around his thick cock in a way that had you gasping for air.

“Say it right,” He commanded.

You swallowed, “And the sankin-kōtai system…”

“Good girl,” Aki’s fingers tightened at your side, fingers digging into the plush skin just enough to serve as a reminder – you weren’t getting anything until he was satisfied with your literacy. “And the purpose?”

“To reduce their military… independence,” You panted, squeezing your eyes shut. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple. You wiped it away, adjusting your glasses. “And to ensure loyalty to the shogunate.”

Then, slowly – slow enough that it was hardly noticeable – he began to move you. His fingers, which were gripping your hips like a vice, began shifting them back, then forth. Though the movement itself was small, it was enough to make your breath catch on a moan.

Your boyfriend hummed in approval, chin hovering close to your shoulder. You tried not to lean back into his touch, but it was no simple task. His hands kept moving you just enough to make you lose control – back and forth, back and forth. Every time you felt his cock shift deep inside of you, white-hot pleasure exploded behind your eyelids, shooting down to your toes and making your legs shake.

That’s not fair.

“And the side effects?” He continued. Save for the slight rasp – the slightest breathiness – to his voice, he acted like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Fuck, he felt so fucking good that your mind was going numb. You were desperate – so desperate, that each time you rutted your hips back and felt him press up against that spot that made you gasp and shudder, you fought the urge to pin him down and bounce on it like a fucking madwoman.

“Ec–onomic – hah – growth along the major routes. Inns, post stations, merchants– those developed because of the daimyō processions.”

Aki squeezed your hip. Not praise, but pressure. A reminder that he would stop the second you slipped. Then, seemingly satisfied with your response, he lifted you off his lap ever-so-slightly.

You moved with him like it was second nature, ass bouncing against his lap each time you took him down to the hilt. You felt like you were on fire – a sticky warmth rolling over your whole body in dizzying waves.

“Cultural impact?” He asked, but it was growing to be more difficult to hear him when you were finally, finally getting what you wanted. Not all of it. Not enough to bring you to the edge, but enough to soothe the ache in your core.

“More unified national culture… increased circulation of goods, literature, i– uh, ideas–” You whimpered, glasses sliding down the bridge of your nose.

A smack landed harder this time, biting into the skin of your ass in a way that had your breath fucking stuttering. “Ah–”

Aki corrected you, “Be specific.”

But he didn’t stop moving your hips. No, in fact, he picked up the pace, bringing you up off of his lap a little further, then bringing you back down – fucking you a little harder than before. The wait had been enough to warm you up. You were embarrassingly wet – the slick of your arousal made a mess of the junction between your body and his, running down your trembling thighs and onto his pants.

Not that he seemed to care.

Your mind was going blank. All memory of the material – of the shogunate, of Japanese history as a whole – effectively vanished, replaced by overpowering need.

The only thing you could think of was him, and how good it felt to have him inside of you.

Aki swatted at your thigh again, bouncing you a little harder on his dick. “I didn’t say you could stop.”

“Oh fuck–” You whined, bracing your hands against the desk while he fucked you open. “Baby, I can’t–”

“Yes, you can,” He replied. “You want me to stop?”

“No!” You gasped out, eyes nearly rolling back in your head when he shifted his hips down the seat and began rolling you back and forth. “Fuckkk…”

“Then keep going,” He grumbled, teeth grazing the sensitive slope of your neck when he pressed a kiss there. “I’ll give you everything you want if you can finish this section for me.”

You nodded, trying to regain your composure just a bit – which, again, was rather difficult considering your current predicament. “Ukiyo-e prints. Kabuki theater. Haikai poetry.”

“Social structure.”

“The shogunate promoted Neo-Confucian ideals which sha-aped the four-tier social order – samurai, farmers, artisans… and–” You gasped. “Merchants.”

“You’re doing good. Almost done,” He kissed your neck again. “The purpose of that hierarchy was…?”

Just a few more words.

“To reinforce stability. Social harmony–” His tip caught on your g-spot, then, and you damn near doubled over in pleasure. “And the… political authority of– the shogun…ate.”

I did it.

“…Fuck,” you murmured.

A good moment passed where neither of you wanted to move. Then, there was a subtle shift in his body beneath you and a faint exhale of breath against your skin.

“See, I knew you could do it,” He grinned against your neck. “Good job, Baby.”

His hands slid up your sides carefully, then suddenly, he was standing – lifting you up with him so easily it made your stomach twist and turn. Your chair scraped softly against the linoleum floor as he guided you forward, gently bending you over the desk.

Fuck yes, you thought.

Aki leaned down, forearm muscles rippling as he reached forward to close the text book. His voice dropped a notch, devoid of its previous teasing tone. “You did such a good job,” His lips kissed hot skin, working their way up your jaw. “God, you’re so…”

Your fingers curled slightly against the wooden edge of your desk, fingertips digging into the hard surface. Your heartbeat thrummed loud in your ears. You were painfully aware of how close he was, how deep he was buried inside of you while you desperately tried to regulate yourself.

“You really know how to get what you want from me,” He chuckled.

Then, he was moving. Gently, with a hand on your hip and the other tangled in your hair, he began to thrust his hips forward, and fuck, that was good.

It was too good. Finally, finally, he was fucking you right. A little deeper, a little rougher each time. Your gold necklace tinked against the desk every time he pulled out. It was mind-numbingly good, as it always was. The pleasure washed over you in waves – a warm, honey-thick heat that spread from your chest to your trembling thighs each time he fucked into you.

You were embarrassingly wet from the buildup alone. As you began to rut your hips back to meet him halfway, acrylic nails practically leaving marks in the desk, you could feel it – the syrupy mess of your arousal that dripped down your inner thighs.

You moaned into the hard, unforgiving surface below you – cold oak wood pressed into your cheek while Aki pinned you down by the nape of your neck and made you take it.

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ soaked,” He breathed out – something between a laugh and a groan. You could hear it – the wet noises your greedy pussy made while it sucked him back in. And judging by the way Aki slowed his thrusts to a deeper, more intentional pace, he was listening, too.

“Fuuuck, you hear that, pretty girl?” He teased. “Is that all for me?”

He was so fucking deep – each time he rolled his hips into you, tip pressed as deep inside of you as he could fit, your eyes rolled back, vision blurring from the pleasure. Your mouth was open, drool dripping shamelessly onto the desk because, fuck, it was good.

You reached back as far as you could, grasping at air in search of his hand, something. In response, Aki grabbed it, pinning your arm against your back.

“I asked you a question, Baby,” He reiterated. “Who does this–” he punctuated the question with a harsh slap to your ass. “Belong to?”

“You!” You choked out a gasp as he pressed you deeper into the desk and picked up the pace again – back and forth, until your brain was going numb. “Fuck, Aki, harder!”

You could feel yourself teetering close to the edge of the orgasm you’d been chasing all night – warmth bubbling up in your gut, sensations kicking up a notch while your cunt squeezed his dick in like it never wanted to let go.

Aki – ever the service dom – obeyed happily, snapping his hips against your ass a little harder. Hard enough to make the desk scrape the linoleum floor, wooden shelf thumping rhythmically against the wall you shared with your roommate.

If there was a God, you thanked him for making sure she was out for the night with her other friends. If she had been here, she would’ve thought you were being murdered.

You only got louder when he gave you what you wanted. Your moans bounced off the desk, the walls, and fuck, you didn’t even give a shit who heard. You fucked back against aki, ass jumping each time he bottomed out inside of you. There was almost no resistance anymore – nothing but the sound of your pussy gushing all over him, the sound of both of your gasps and groans.

Aki relented his grip on the back of your neck to brace his arms on either side of you. His biceps flexed as he brought himself a little lower. Then, he snaked a hand around your mouth and jammed his index and middle finger into your mouth.

“You feel so fucking good,” He panted, voice breaking on a whine, “Shit.”

Your jaw hinged open to accommodate his digits. He pressed them against your tongue and then drove into you even harder – hips angled down just enough to have you seeing stars. Your cries were muffled by his fingers, and before you could stop yourself, you bit down. Not hard. Not enough to hurt, but…

Aki groaned at the feeling. “Fuck.”

Edging closer to release, you let yourself fall over the desk, legs falling limp as you let him fuck you within an inch of your life.

You were so fucking close. It snuck up on you. One moment, Aki was kissing up your neck, sucking a bruise onto the tender skin just above your jugular. Then, he was grazing his teeth over the spot, biting gently over the mark, and then–

“Cumming, fuck!” You cried out – though, admittedly, it sounded a little strange. Almost unintelligible – more like a sob around the spit soaked fingers gagging your mouth.

The feeling hit you head on with a force that had you convulsing, hips jumping wildly against the desk, pussy squeezing him for dear life. You came with a disgruntled cry of his name, making a mess all over his dick. You could feel yourself creaming before your ears began to ring.

“Holy shit, Baby,” Aki faltered for a moment, fucking you slowly through your orgasm like he wanted to drag it out all night.

You practically collapsed against the desk the moment you came down. Aki caught you, holding you steady. He paused.

“You okay?” He laughed, breathless as hell.

You looked back at him. He looked just as disheveled as you felt – raven hair a frizzy mess, bangs sticking to his forehead with slick. His face was dusted with that pretty shade of pink that suited his skin tone so well – eyes half lidded, lashes low over his cheeks. His chest rose while he tried to catch his breath – trembling pants leaving his pink lips.

Then, you felt him twitch inside of you. In response, your pussy gave him one final squeeze.

His lips curled up into a grin. “You tapping out already?”

You shook your head. Reaching your weak arm behind you, you pushed against his chest, urging him to pull out. Gently, he did, leaving you clenching around nothing.

On unsteady legs, you turned around, flipping your hair over to one side while you caught your breath.

“I think we’re done studying for today,” You teased, a breathless smile crawling over your face. Your fingers grazed his collarbone, nails scratching his skin. “How much do you charge?”

Aki leaned down to your height, “On the house.”

You pushed him back, watching as he fell into your wooden desk chair. Then, you reached for your tank top and pushed the neckline below your tits, letting them spill out.

Your boyfriend practically groaned at the sight, wrapping a hand around the shaft of his cock like he couldn’t bear the thought of no longer being inside of you. A pretty bead of precum glistened at the tip, but the entire shaft was still wet from your last orgasm – an obscene mess of his and your cum dripping down like something out of a porno. He smeared it around with his thumb. Then, languidly, he twisted his hand around the head, using your juices as a lubricant.

Unable to hide your hunger, you watched him stroke himself slowly – not enough to feel like much, but just enough to take the edge off.

And, as pornographic as the sight was, you really wanted to see your boyfriend’s face when he came. So…

“Pity. I don’t want to owe you again,” You teased him. You walked closer, swaying your hips enough to make your skirt float against your curves. Then, slowly, you lowered yourself to your knees before him, fingers splayed out over his thighs, nails digging into the bunched up fabric of his pants. “Is there any other way I can repay you?”

“I can think of a few,” He played coy.

You smirked, reaching for your glasses before he stopped you with a gentle hand around your wrist. You knit your brows at him.

“Glasses stay on, yeah?” He insisted, tapping the edge of your round lenses with his finger.

He’s so nasty, you thought. Still, with a devilish little grin, you scooted a little closer to him, wrapping your hand around his dick – pretty pink stilettos standing out against his flushed skin. You let a drop of spit dribble out of your pursed lips onto his tip and twisted your hand to get it nice and wet.

Not that there was any need, though. No, he was still coated in a layer of your slick, which made it easy for you to touch him just the way he liked – the way that made him squirm.

“Fuuuck,” Aki moaned, head arching back until the column of his throat was exposed – Adam’s apple bobbing beneath a swallow as he licked his lips. A hickey from last weekend was only faintly visible, a faded mark where your lips had been.

Without wasting another moment, you lowered your head and wrapped your lips around him, finally getting a taste. His skin tasted salty, a little tang that you recognized well from the many times he’d kissed you after making you cum on his face. You licked over the underside, sucking gently on the head while your hand worked up and down his shaft.

You started slowly at first, lips forming a seal around him, cheeks hollowed.

But then, Aki looked down at you like he was so close to breaking and breathed, “You look so fucking pretty, Baby,” and you were gone.

Yeah. I need that, you thought.

You picked up the pace, loosening your jaw and bobbing your head up and down with newfound purpose. You used both of your hands to stroke and twist the rest of him, licking your tongue wherever it could reach.

Your lips stretched to fit him. Aki reached down and gathered your hair into his fist, keeping it out of your face.

And they say chivalry is dead.

“Not g’nna last if–” He shuddered, a broken gasp tearing from his pretty, parted lips. “You keep going like that.”

That was precisely what you wanted. You wanted – no, needed to watch him fall apart above you. He always looked so pretty when he came.

Even still, his body told a different story. He bobbed your head down a little lower, almost like he couldn’t control it. You took the hint, moving your hands out of the way so you could loosen your throat and take him all the way down to the base.

Aki’s reaction was instantaneous. He shuddered, mouth dropping open to make way for more of those deep, satin-smooth moans you loved so much. The sound of him – so debauched, so undone – was enough to have you ready to go another round. “Ah, fuck–”

But this wasn’t about you.

He wrapped your hair one more time around his fist, tightening his grip until you felt him pulling your hair. He looked down at you, face flushed and contorted with pleasure, then licked his lips. With a fistful of your hair, he coaxed your head up and down.

“You take it so fucking well,” He breathed out.

It was hard to keep your throat relax when he was big enough to make your eyes water, but the way his whole body arched beneath you made it all worth it. You let him take the reigns, allowing him to use your mouth to get himself off.

You tried looking up at him through teary, mascara-streaked eyes, glasses sliding down the bridge of your nose as he fucked your throat – but your vision was growing blurry. The two of you worked up a rhythm – a nasty ‘gluck’ sound filling the room each time you gagged around him.

“Holy shit,” He worried his lower lip between his teeth. “Fuck, I’m getting close.”

You adored how vocal he was. You slid your hand up over his abs, fingernails grazing hard-earned muscle beneath his shirt, and grabbed his chest. Aki reached down and wiped the tears away from your face.

He looked so pretty.

He fucked your throat a little harder. Mouth open, you let him – spit dribbling out of your mouth and all over his cock every time it bumped the back of your throat. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was looking down at you like was trying to commit the scene to memory.

He slicked his bangs back, and his forehead made a rare appearance. “Shit. Wait– I’m close already, slow down.”

You didn’t listen, squeezing his pecs a little harder while you worked him up to an orgasm. He was panting, lashes fluttering shut. Before long, you felt his legs twitch, and you knew he was about to break.

So you pulled off of him with an obscene little pop, a bridge of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the head of his cock. Then, peering up at him through damp lashes, you jerked him off with two hands – one twisting around the tip, and the other working up and down his spit-soaked base.

“Fuck–” He gasped, hips jumping with sensitivity, and hot damn, you were unbelievably aroused by the sight of it.

“Cum on my face, Baby,” You pleaded with him. “I fucking need it. Please?”

“Mmmh,” He moaned, fingers gripping your hair a little tighter like they didn’t know what else to do. “I–”

“Make a mess, it’s okay,” You teased, stroking him up and down until his breath broke on a gasp. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Fuck– Shit–” Aki gasped out, brows furrowed. He let out the prettiest moan as he tossed his head back and came hard. All over your hand, your face, your glasses – painting your glasses and your open mouth with heat.

He stayed there for a moment, coming down from his high while his chest heaved.

You giggled, letting him go so you could lick his seed off of your fingers.

He looked down at you, lifting his head so he could get a look at your debauched appearance. Your hair was a mess. Your lips were swollen, and you had a face full of his spend.

“Fuck, Baby, I wish I could take a picture of you right now,” He groaned, tugging your lip down with his thumb so he could push the cum back into your mouth. “So fucking hot.”

“Do it, then,” You grinned.

You didn’t have to tell him twice. Aki reached for his phone, swiping into his camera roll before aiming the camera at you.

“Smile for the camera, pretty girl,” He cooed.

You stuck your tongue out, showing the camera what was left. The flash went off once, twice.

“Shit,” Aki groaned. Leaning to the side, he plucked a towel off of your bed – the one you’d just used to shower an hour or two earlier – and wiped your face clean with it. He pulled your glasses off, shooting you that breathless smirk of his that made you fall for him all over again.

You rose to your unsteady feet, allowing your boyfriend to practically drag you into his lap. Once he had you where he wanted you, he grabbed you by the neck and kissed you like he didn’t give a shit what he tasted. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and tangling your fingers into his hair – nails scratching his scalp just the way he liked.

“I love you so fucking much,” He grinned against your lips, “You know that?”

“Love you more,” You giggled.

Yes, Aki Hayakwa truly was the best boyfriend in the entire world.

a/n: happy vday you sick freaks ;) mama loves yalllll -- lmk ur thoughts as always!!!!

creds: i don't own csm obv. credits unknown for banner art! if you know pls lmk... she was unlabeled on pinterest x

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @mrshayakawaa, @xxpr3ttyk173rxx

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