Drunk Modern!Mizu with a Breeding Kink
(((Yup. I don't know what to title this short fic other than that. I let the demons win.)))
(((This turned out to have a bit of spice, a bit of fluff, a bit of my sense of humor. I will say it doesn't get smutty smutty but Mizu sure has a mouth on her. And she's determined.)))
You’re shooing Taigen and Akemi out of your apartment with a tipsy giggle at 2 am. Akemi turns and squeezes you in a warm hug. “Good night, doll! See you later!”
Taigen flashes you a peace sign before Akemi leads him, swaying and all, toward their Uber to take them away.
You watch them climb inside the car before closing the door and locking up for the night. You head into the kitchen, picking up the last of the beer bottles and tossing them in the trash.
You head into the living room where you last left Mizu, only to find her sprawled out on the floor with an arm thrown across her eyes. There’s a pink flush across the middle of her face.
“Too much whiskey, sweetheart?” you chuckle as you approach her.
“Fucking Taigen,” she mumbled, trying to angrily growl but it just sounds slurred and tired. “Fucking…drinking contest.”
You crawl over her, sitting on her hips. You do have to move carefully though, you’re just a wee bit unsteady from the amount of alcohol in your own system. “You could’ve just said no,” you hum.
Mizu remains silent. She’s probably telling herself she won’t grace your soft snark with an answer, but it’s actually cause she really doesn’t have a comeback for that.
Her arm lifts slightly higher, and she squints down at you. Her eyes drift to where you’re sitting atop her hips. Her legs shift under you.
She’s… really staring intensely at how you’re sitting on her.
You start to lift yourself up on your knees. “You good? Does it hurt?”
Mizu frowns as your weight leaves her. “No,” she says, and grabs your hips to pull you back down. “...It’s nothing.”
But you know that look. She gets it every time Taigen got under her skin about something.
“Nothing? Like a “just thinking” nothing or a “Taigen pissed in your metaphorical thinking cereal” nothing?”
Mizu’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What?”
You press your hands to Mizu’s chest, bouncing a little for emphasis. “What. Did. He. Saaaaay?”
Your tone and actions were meant to be lighthearted, but something flashes in Mizu’s eyes when you bounce yourself on her hips. Her eyes flash back down to where you’re sitting. Her hands instinctively grab your hips to still your movement. The pink flush across her cheeks and nose seem to darken. “Fuck,” slips out from between her lips. She shakes her head. “S’ just being stupid and gross.”
You noted that little change in her voice. “Like what?”
Her thumbs run over the jut of your hips. “Some girl he hooked up with. Talking about how she had an IUD and let him cum inside.”
You sigh, “Jesus Christ, of course.”
She keeps shifting her hips under you. “Are you sure you don’t need me to get up-?” You start lifting yourself again.
“Stop moving,” she says, and the flush on her cheeks doesn’t die down. She tries to look annoyed, but you can tell the minuscule differences in her expressions. That’s a pout more than a scowl.
You laugh breathlessly. “What’s got you so worked up?” You tap her totally not pouting lip.
She grunts, grumbling a little as her hands massage where they’re gripping your hips.
“Don’t be all huffy with me. Tell me,” you coax with a grin, your own tipsy flush complimenting your wide smile.
She rolls her head back against the carpet and is silent for a minute.
The amount of whiskey currently killing her liver is the only reason her inhibitions are loose enough to say it.
Your eyebrows raise into your hairline, lips parting with surprise. You need to clarify just in case you're misunderstanding. “You want to-?”
“I want to cum inside you.”
The raspiness of her voice is even grittier from the whiskey.
Her irises are darker than normal, the bright blue having more the tint of stormy waters.
And whether it’s the liquid courage or Mizu’s determination to barrel through things to push through her fears, she keeps going.
Her hands are heavy as the slide up your sides. “I want to have something that I can slip inside you-“
Your heart is pounding harder in your chest from her words, her actions, the heat of her frustrated gaze. “You have several strap ons-“ you joke, but your voice is weak and airy.
“I want to feel you from the inside.” She makes a frustrated grunt, “I don’t want plastic. I want to feel you wrapped around something other than my fingers. I want to stretch you out-“
Her palms dig into your stomach. Her blue eyes flick up and meet yours, and you almost fall back away from her with how much unfiltered desire is in them. Her own breath is shallow, you can see how silently but rapidly her chest is rising and falling.
“I want there to be risk that I forget to pull out.”
Her hips bucked, throwing you higher up her waist with her strength. Your hands fly out to catch yourself, and your fingers hit her shoulders as she’s suddenly sitting up, face inches from yours. She’s supporting your weight in this position, hands and feet flat on the floor as you’re the unsteady one in so many ways. She looks irritated, like when she can’t bend something to her will no matter how much work she pours into it. But she also looks slightly mournful. Genuinely upset.
She looks up at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I wanna see it dripping out.”
You gasp loudly as her teeth snap into your neck. It’s not a love bite, it’s possessive. It’s stinging.
But Mizu, being the complex and non one-note person she is, does let go and licks at the reddened skin in apology. “I want to leave myself behind. Inside you.” She nuzzles her nose below your ear, huffing.
Your brain is just on lag, taking several moments to catch up with each of her revealed desires. “And…” you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. “And if you got me knocked up on accident?”
Her arms squeeze tightly around you, burying her face in your shoulder. She’s silent for a heart pounding moment, you can actually FEEL her heart pounding with yours.
Her lips drag along the skin behind your ear. Her voice is low, dark. “Wouldn’t be an accident.”
Someone needs to take whiskey away from this woman. Or give it to her more. You’ll decide if you survive this encounter.
“Mizu-“ you don’t even know how to finish that sentence. You’re just… you don’t even know. You think you hear a faint ringing in your ears.
Her left hand dig into your side, gripping the fabric of your shirt. “Would you keep it?” she asks so softly.
“I-“ your brain is still on that fucking LAG.
Her breathing is slow, shuddering against your ear. “I wouldn’t make you, if you didn’t want to-“ she sounds so pained to say it your heart squeezes. You actually forget for a moment that that’s never gonna be an issue for you two.
Her grip on your shirt relaxes, before curling the fabric between her fingers tighter, clinging to you. “I’d just… beg for you to think about it,” she makes a wounded sound.
You swallow again, throat clicking. You’re becoming aware of a heat low in your abdomen growing warmer and warmer.
She holds you tighter against her, and her hips start rhythmically rolling up against yours like she’s mimicking how far she’d push inside to get what she wants. She’d work so hard for it, putting in all her time and energy and her unwavering determination-
“It’s selfish,” she’s murmuring against your skin, warm lips having traveling down to your neck. “But I’m selfish. I want it. I want it so much. I want to know there’s a little us-“ one hand goes between your bodies, fingertips pressed up under your naval like she’s obsessed. Her voice is strained. “I want to know it’s inside you. They’re inside you. I want to know they’re safe and warm. You’d keep them so warm. You’re always warm-“
You have never, in your life, ever heard Mizu babbling like this.
SHE’S STILL ROLLING HER HIPS UNDER YOU.
You finally grab her face with both hands in a rare moment of clarity to still her, forcing her head up to look at you in this haze of body heat radiating from her, from you, radiating everywhere between your bodies.
Her head lolls back, looking up at you and oh my god. She is just gone. Her red cheek flush has spread to her whole face. Her lips are wet and parted, breath now audibly heavy. Her eyes, her eyes, her gorgeous blue eyes are now a storm. A dark, hot storm.
“Let me put a baby in you, dove,” her voice is strangled, slurred worse than you’ve ever heard as her half lidded eyes gaze at you.
Jesus, she’s bringing out the rare pet nickname she’s so desperate.
And just when you think Mizu is done shocking your system with this new side of her, her expression crumbles into the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.
What the fuck was in her whiskey?!
“I’ll-I’ll take care of the two of you. Keep you safe. Just let me- just let me-“ she lifts her hips up under you again, as if trying to tempt you into it. She hiccups. “Just spread your legs and I’ll do all the work.”
With strength she should not have while she’s absolutely smashed, she lunges forward, shoving you to the carpet with your legs spread around her waist. Her hot breath fans over your face, tinted with whiskey. She wets her lips. “Have my baby. Say yes.” Her hips press down into yours again. She whispers your name.
You’re tempted to say yes, despite still being sober enough to remember the logistics of this. She makes a very persuasive case. And it’s not just cause she’s grinding into you like she’s warming up to do it.
You both slowly look up (you more tilting your head back) as the front door opens and Mizu’s roommate Ringo comes in. He freezes in the doorway, seeing Mizu crouched over you in a very interesting position with your legs still spread by her thighs.
She scowls at him. “You said you weren’t coming back tonight!” She sways over you.
Ringo blinks. “Mom has Bingo in the morning,” he says innocently. “… did something happen?”
“She’s pregnant,” Mizu hiccups, before passing out atop you without warning, shoving a strangled noise out of your chest as you yell for Ringo’s help.
In the morning, Mizu drags herself into the living room looking like she was just brought back from the dead, face drained of color and eyes squinting at the light behind her tinted glasses.
“Hi baby,” you greet her softly, cautiously as you watch her head to the kitchen, aiming for the coffee pot.
“Hi,” she groans. “I’m never fucking doing a drinking contest with that bastard again.”
You nod, “That sounds good."
You pause, "Do you remember anything from last night?”
She shrugs as she passes you. “Barely.” She disappears into the kitchen.
“Oh,” you turn toward her retreating back, propping your chin in your hand as you lean against the back of the couch. You wait until she’s out of sight to oh so innocent call out “I wanted to ask about how you were begging to impregnate me.”
Several loud crashes in the kitchen.
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