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BALL POLISHER

18+ smut warning: gn!reader has a bad day and an oral fixation.

꒰ྀི১ daydreaming about gamer!dazai helping you with some stress relief ໒꒱ིྀ

When Dazai greets you at the door, all smiles and excited you’re home, it immediately vanishes as he hears soft sniffles and sees your eyes faintly red and glassy from previously shed tears. “Hey.” He soothes, his hand reaching out to carefully swipe away your tears from your glistening cheeks. “What’s wrong? What made my darling cry?” He steps closer, preparing to wrap you in a hug, but you start closing in on yourself, shrinking away, and he stares down at you with furrowed brows.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you whisper, voice hoarse, and seeing you like this makes his heart ache.

“Tell me what you need, then,” he carefully reaches out once more to wipe the corner of your eye while you take your shoes off and set your coat to the side. “Do you want some space?” You hesitate to answer, thinking about it, mulling the idea over, until you shake your head. “Wanna watch me play my game?” He tosses a thumb over his shoulder, vaguely in the direction of the TV where his game is paused on the screen. Your gaze flickers from it to him, then shrug. You stare up at him with your big, wounded eyes, shining still from your obvious crying, and his head tilts.

“You gotta talk to me, baby,” he whispers, and your gaze quickly downcasts. Your finger comes out, gently poking his lower abdomen, then just as swiftly pulling away. You’re shy, never able to actually say what it is you want, making him have to guess unless you use one of your tells or special hand signs and motions. However, he does know what this means, and his hand cups your face, thumb caressing your tear-soaked skin and nods. “You wanna change first? Get comfortable?” You fidget some in your spot, thinking quietly to yourself some more, before deciding to start undressing at the door: your pants drop to your feet and shirt gets tossed down beside it, leaving you in your underwear. He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead then leading you to the couch, where he removes his pants and boxers before sitting down on the cushion.

You look over him, dick soft and lying oblong on his pelvis, his balls hang heavy between his thighs, and you instantly stoop down to your knees to comfortably situate between his legs. You tear your gaze away enough to look up at him, seeing his hands pick up his controller again, sinking further into the couch, then gently rakes his fingers through your hair. Politely waiting for his permission. “Go ahead.” He softly encourages, gingerly guiding you in, and your wet lashes bat up at him as a silent ‘thank you’ before placing a sweet kiss to one then sucking it in between your soft lips, tongue rolling around, and your body’s tension is already relieving itself. He sucks in a small breath, nails scratching at your scalp to add to your comfort, and his dick twitches some as it starts to grow. “You poor, sweet darling thing.” He says with sincerity, but it still comes off a bit condescending, as if speaking to the last kitten stuck behind the window of the adoption center. “Take all the time you need, okay?” You nod, sighing deeply, still looking up at him with your big, grateful eyes — admiring him — and his hand withdraws once he knows you’re alright so he can focus on the game he’s been stuck on all day.

He lets you sit there quietly, the only sounds coming from the lowered volume on the TV and your light sucking and licking, occasional soft sighs slipping from both of you, and somehow he has all the focus in the world to get past the difficult boss fight he had been trying to beat. Whenever there’s a cut scene, or he’s able to press buttons with one hand, he’ll reach the other down to rake his fingers through your hair, pet you, hold your cheek and caress you, eyes glued to what’s happening in front of him while you help yourself to continue occupying your mouth. Sometimes you’ll stop, just let it sit on your tongue, gazing up at him with intense adoration that it makes your heart swell and pulse in your chest, just so overwhelmed with love and joy that he allows you permission to do this. You know it’s weird; you kept this a secret from him for a long time — he only found out after you sucked his soul right out of his body one night and made him see God that you can’t keep your mouth off of him, only to then send him into orbit again. Which also explained why you were constantly chewing gum, straws, toothpicks, plastic utensils, wooden chopsticks, and sometimes even to-go cups would be riddled with your teeth marks.

Having a boyfriend that doesn’t mind you mouth-warming his cock and balls in a moment of weakness for some type of comfort is essentially a miracle to you.

Your eyes catch his dick getting harder, growing and standing tall in front of you, and you get a bit antsy, wanting that in your mouth instead. You carefully release his well-attended nut, moving toward his shaft when his palm firmly presses on your forehead. You squeak, confused, gaze trailing up to meet his stern one, and his scarred brow is lifted. You widen your eyes, as big as they can get, making yourself look pathetic and pitiful, but you know better than to think that would work on Dazai of all people. Immune to puppy dog stares and tantrum pouts.

“Be polite,” his soft, gentle voice doesn’t match at all with the expression on his face. “Love on the other one before you get greedy.” He instructs, his hand gliding down to cup your jaw and lower your mouth to his other ball, even guiding you closer to it until your nose presses to the base of his dick. “It’ll still be here, hard and waiting for you, when you’re done.” The one good thing about how you can suck and lick and warm him for comfort is you can do it for hours, giving him so much pleasure and edging him, especially when he’s in the zone with one of his games. He has an internal race with himself, to see if he can reach any accomplishments before he busts.

You nod, apologies written all over your features, before giving the neglected one a kiss of its own then gingerly sucking it into your warm, wet mouth, your soft tongue tending to it the same as you did the other. His lashes flutter briefly, fingers back in your hair, and you rest your head on his thigh as your eyes close. Relaxed, listening to the subtle clicking of his button smashing, unintelligible speaking from cut scenes, and muffled, soft moans he is trying to hide from you.

“You’re so good to me, Osamu,” you finally decide to speak, the first sentence out of your mouth for hours, just to go back to circling your tongue around on the underside, spit and saliva dribbling down your chin and the couch and to the floor. At this point, he abandoned his game, staring blankly at the ceiling with hooded lids, lips parted with his small panting huffing out since you had gotten more aggressive with your mouth. You have been going back and forth between each ball, following his orders to be polite and tend to both, and the tip is the angriest shade of red from all of your edging. Trying to be a good boyfriend and not slam his dick down your throat when you’re upset.

“O-Of course, baby,” he breathes, voice shaking, fingers wrapped in a vice grip on the cushion under him, knuckles white. “Anything f-for you-you, my darling. Whatever… whatever helps.” His dick twitches and leaks, feeling his ball get sucked on harshly, your tongue lulling around it, everything so wet and warm, and his eyes squeeze shut. He will say one thing about this fixation you have: you are the best at giving head, and he’d sooner die than deny both of you your fix.

woke up thinking about this, idk why.

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