summary: shotaro is a rebellious bad boy who is determined to take your innocence...
genre: smut
fame: RIIZE series masterlist
You wandered into your bedroom, kicking off your uncomfortable heels… and froze.
Shotaro was in your bedroom.
Actually, he was halfway out of your bedroom. He had wrenched your window open, had one leg out, and was just ducking his head under when you walked in.
His dark eyes met yours for a long moment. His black jacket was loose and grimy, and his collar flapped in the night wind.
Shotaro slowly raised a finger to his lips.
You knew what that meant. Don’t tell anyone.
Why the hell would you let him get away with this? Your parents had thrown this dinner, supposedly for Christmas, but it was really a chance for you to meet all the eligible bachelors in the neighbourhood.
They had all fawned over you, boring you to death with bad poetry and compliments to your parents… except Shotaro. He never even looked at you. He spent the whole night pocketing your parents’ silver and trying to seduce one very scared maid. It was like he would rather be anywhere than there. Like you were a joke.
You didn’t even like him. But you couldn’t just let him ignore you.
Taking a deep breath, you yelled, “SHOTARO IS TRYING TO-”
Before you could finish your sentence, a hand pressed hard over your mouth. It was not a polite hand. It was a rough, careless hand. It bruised your lips and made the skin of your cheeks burn.
Shotaro was standing behind you, locking your head to his chest, his hand pressed over your mouth to stop you crying out.
“What the hell?” Shotaro hissed. “I knew you were a stuck up bitch, but that was just wow.”
You huffed, trying to slip out of his grasp. He did not budge an inch.
“Why did you do it?” Shotaro said, his voice teasing. “Are you that worried about breaking Mama and Papa’s rules? Or do you actually want me here?”
You dug your nails into his wrist. He let you go with a curse.
You wiped your mouth. “I never wanted you here. I just refuse to help someone who’s been rude to me all night.”
“So that’s what it is,” Shotaro said, wandering around your room, flicking your teddy bears. “You’re angry at me because I’m not begging for your hand in marriage.”
You crossed your arms over your tight gown. You couldn’t say anything, because he was right.
Shotaro strolled towards you, until he was barely a foot away. No longer slouched, he suddenly stood tall. In his black velvet suit, silhouetted in the moonlight, he was just a shadow. A shiver ran down your spine. The myths about him - breaking into his parents’ wine cellar, getting that girl pregnant - were they true?
“Well, you’re just not my type, Y/n,” he said softly. “I prefer women who are a little… hotter. The kind of women who won’t cry if a man doesn’t want them. They’ll do something about it.”
You reached out, grabbed Shotaro’s hand, and pressed it between your legs.
You felt him grip the silk of your dress, hard. He buried his fingers in your soft mound.
“So you’re just as much of a slut as the rest of them,” he said, his plump lip curling in disgust.
Still, he didn’t let go.
You lifted your dress with your other hand, and moved his hand so it grabbed your panties. Almost on instinct, his fingers felt out the lacy trim of your underwear, twirling your pussy hair. Then they froze.
“I’m sorry baby, but I can get it a lot easier than this,” he said, his voice thick. “Better too.”
You looked down at his bulge, which had grown sizeably in the last few moments. It was straining at the velvet of his trousers, lifting up his obscenely large gold belt buckle.
“Then why are you hard right now?” you laughed.
Shotaro let out a huff of displeasure. Still, his hands started moving almost on their own. His thumb found your clit instantly, rubbing in quick, experienced strokes. One of his fingers slipped into your heat. You felt a burn as you stretched around him.
Your whole body shuddered. You couldn’t help it. You hadn’t thought this far forward. And you definitely hadn’t expected him to be this good.
“Every little girl is the same…” Shotaro said to himself, licking his lips and walking you back to your bed.
That made you angry. Still, it was hard to complain when his fingers were in your pussy.
He shoved your shoulder down on the bed. That was the thing about Shotaro. Every time he touched you, it was like being tackled by a rugby player. He didn’t touch a woman any different to a friend, or an enemy. It was all a game to him.
His hands ran up your thighs, pushing your dress to your waist. Suddenly, he was kneeling on the floor by the bed. His long, hot tongue licked up from the crease of your knees, to your thighs. He scrabbled for your underwear, throwing it on the floor.
“Wait. What the hell are you doing?” you said, your heart racing. You’d expected him to fuck you. You didn’t know about this other thing. What was his tongue doing there?
“Tell me one thing,” Shotaro said, in between kisses to your thigh. “Is this your first time?”
You considered lying, then whispered, “Yes.”
You could feel Shotaro’s grin against your leg. He actually laughed, and it felt mean, but the vibrations felt good.
“Then just lie back and don’t worry. You can’t get pregnant from this one.”
Then his tongue started licking up and down your pussy. He sucked your lips, releasing them with an embarrassingly loud pop. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. You were lost between the coolness of his spit and the hot, rough buds on his tongue.
He was rubbing his hands up and down your thighs the whole time, like a man possessed. When you let out a moan, he got excited, and pressed your knees backwards, hard enough that your muscles ached.
At first, the feeling was only strange and sort of relaxing. But when he thrust a finger inside you, you felt a heat in your pussy, and an intense pressure, like you were going to wet yourself.
Before you could even recognise that feeling as your orgasm, you were shuddering, your whole body convulsing as you came on Shotaro’s face. He rubbed his face against your juices, a low groan of satisfaction rumbling in his chest.
You scrambled back on your bed. You felt scared and satisfied all at once.
He crawled onto the bed after you, his shoulders sticking up like a panther’s.
You knew that just because Shotaro was in your bed didn’t mean the battle was over. This was another way of showing you that he didn’t care about you. Well, that suited you fine. He was nothing but a conquest to you too.
He worked his belt open and let his trousers hang around his knees. He had nothing like underwear to speak of. You barely saw the outline of his dick before he was moving over you.
He planted a hand next to your head. He arched his back so he could look down and run his hand over his dick in quick strokes.
Then he licked his lips and shuffled closer to you.
”Wait,” you said, clearing your throat. “What about what you said. About not getting pregnant.”
Shotaro addressed his words to the space between your legs. “Same policy. Lie back and don’t worry about it.”
He must have fucked you for less than a minute. He thrust into you in long strokes that made your pussy ache and your whole body shake on the impact. Almost as soon as he started, he was panting harshly in your ear, kneading your breasts in rough circles and scratching lines down your stomach.
Then his eyes were rolling back in his head, his mouth hanging open. He let out a long, high pitched sigh of your name, then stickiness collected between your legs. There was nothing like enough time for you to come again.
“Am I so irresistible, eh?” you said. Your bravado was hiding a good bit of fear. “The great playboy of the eastern world is whimpering out my name.”
“Nice one,” he said, breathing out sharply. “I was worked up. Four hours of boredom at a family dinner can do that to a man.”
It stung as he pulled out of you.
You got up, straightening your dress, and crouched on the floor, looking for your underwear.
“Here,” Shotaro said, opening his fist to reveal the mess of white fabric. “I like to keep it. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Actually I do, prick.”
Shotaro was straddling your window, pushing up the frame and looking out at the dark night. “I’ll have to give it back to you next time,” he said quickly. “That is, if you don’t scream for mummy and daddy and get me in trouble.”
You considered telling on Shotaro, but you realised that with your messed up hair and soaked bedsheets, that might not benefit you.
“Fine,” you said, your heart thudding.
Shotaro gave you a wink.
Then he dropped down, and disappeared.
—
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genre suggestive 𖹭 warning mentions of ass slapping , jokes pairing — OT7 x fem reader | back to library .
— you get mad at them for slapping your ass to hard
request. i was wondering if you could do a riize and or enhypen text and or drabble (ot7 if you’re comfortable with it) when they slap your butt to hard and then now you’re mad at them.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 sub reader, slightly mean dom shotaro, filthy smut, porn with little plot
synopsis: it’s been a week since the trip that shattered shotaro’s golden boy image, revealing a raw, untamed edge beneath his lovable charm and you can’t help but want more. a particularly frustrating night lands him at your doorstep, his usual warmth replaced by a simmering hunger, ready to take out his anger on you. you surrender completely, burning under his unyielding intensity until you’re a quivering spark, marked by his possession and fading into the haze of his satisfaction, a secret only you know lies beneath his perfect smile.
WARNINGS: overstimulation, degradation, squirting, creampie, oral (fem receiving), filthy talk, swearing, basically just shotaro fucking the anger out and using you as his outlet (my dream date)
a/n: it’s been so long since i’ve posted anything on here, i promise i haven’t forgotten you guys :( i have so many works in my drafts that i’m slowly geting through but thought i’d feed the shotaro girlies tonight. plus i’m ovulating and i need him carnally.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
it had been exactly a week since the trip—seven days of restless nights tangled in sheets, unable to chase away the memories etched into your skin by osaki shotaro. seven days spent with your thoughts running wild, replaying the shift in his demeanor, the abrupt, thrilling plunge from gentle courtesy to dark dominance that had left you aching for more.
before that weekend, shotaro had existed solely in the glow of gentle smiles and tender gestures, a golden boy wrapped in perpetual sweetness. he’d carried your bags without complaint, driven you anywhere without hesitation, cooked meals with careful hands and soft laughter that lingered in the air like music. he’d always been quiet charm personified, every bit the gentleman you believed him to be.
until he wasn’t.
until that humid evening, thick with lingering heat and flushed skin, alcohol burning just enough in your veins to blur boundaries. until his eyes had darkened, revealing something primal beneath that polished exterior—a glimpse into a storm waiting to break. his voice had dipped dangerously low, his touch rough and possessive, shattering any illusion of innocence you’d once held onto so tightly.
the aftermath had left you craving, restless, and waiting for the moment when lightning would strike again.
tonight, you busied yourself aimlessly in your small apartment, wandering from the kitchen to the living room, rearranging cushions that didn’t need adjusting, wiping down surfaces already clean—anything to distract yourself from the gnawing anticipation that simmered beneath your skin. the television murmured quietly in the background, a dim haze of meaningless noise, and your thoughts drifted back to the shape of shotaro’s fingers gripping your hips, the searing intensity of his gaze that had branded itself onto your very soul.
the sharp knock at the door shattered your reverie like glass, making your pulse leap violently in your chest. instinctively, you glanced at the clock—it was late, too late for casual visits—and your breath caught sharply in your throat. excitement surged, quickening your heartbeat as you moved toward the door, each step an echo of nervous exhilaration.
when you opened it, your mouth went dry.
shotaro stood there, haloed by the dim glow of the hallway lights, shoulders rigid beneath the weight of stress. his hair, usually meticulously styled, was disheveled, dark strands falling carelessly across his forehead. his brows were drawn tight, carving a shadowed crease between them that made your stomach tighten with anticipation. the tense line of his jaw was etched deep, his fingers white-knuckled around the strap of his bag as if it was all he could do to maintain control.
without a word, you stepped aside, allowing him entry.
he moved past you swiftly, silent but radiating barely restrained agitation. his bag hit the floor beside the couch with a heavy thud, punctuating the heavy stillness of the room and jolting your heart into a quicker rhythm. tension rippled through his muscles as he shrugged out of his hoodie with deliberate slowness, each movement purposeful, barely veiling the intensity simmering just beneath the surface. his jaw clenched and unclenched, and the tendons of his neck strained against his skin like cables pulled taut, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
when he finally turned, his dark eyes lifted slowly to yours, holding a sharpness that pinned you in place—rooted and trembling beneath his scrutiny.
“assignment’s due tomorrow,” he muttered, voice edged with frustration, the words rough and strained as he dragged an agitated hand through his tousled hair. “group project. no one’s doing their damn part.”
you swallowed thickly, mouth dry as you struggled to form a reply, heart thumping wildly in your chest. “sounds terrible,” you murmured, voice barely audible, betraying your growing awareness of what his presence meant, what he was really here for. your pulse quickened as he studied you, gaze unflinching, piercing through your thin façade of calm.
his eyes narrowed subtly, as though sensing exactly how your body responded to his tension—the telltale tightening of your thighs beneath the oversized shirt, the shallow flutter of your breathing, the way your fingers nervously twisted the hem of your tee. the corner of his mouth lifted fractionally in recognition, something darkly amused flickering behind his irises as he took a measured step closer.
“yeah,” he echoed flatly, his voice low, laced with a carefully restrained anger. “i’m fucking pissed.”
the air around you thickened, weighted by anticipation, his gaze dragging over your figure with deliberate slowness, lingering hungrily on the exposed expanse of your legs. your pulse skipped erratically, excitement sparking like wildfire beneath your skin.
“you’re quiet,” he observed, voice deceptively soft, eyes narrowing again with suspicion.
“didn’t want to bother you,” you managed, the words breathless, betraying every ounce of your eagerness. “you seemed stressed.”
he let out a humorless laugh, short and bitter, the sound vibrating through you. “stressed doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
your breathing hitched as he closed the gap entirely, near enough that the scent of his familiar cologne—warm, woodsy, laced faintly with coffee—wrapped around you like a vice. he towered over you, gaze dark and commanding, utterly inescapable. his proximity sent heat cascading down your spine, pooling low in your belly with every ragged breath you took.
“need to blow off some steam,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, the subtle threat beneath his words sending your heart racing.
his eyes were molten now, shadowed with intent, and you felt every cell in your body respond, anticipation building relentlessly beneath your ribs.
“think i know the best way to do it. do you?” he asks quietly, gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that was impossible to escape.
your lips parted slightly, breath catching in your throat, unable to form coherent words beneath the weight of his stare. you didn’t need to speak because he saw everything in your eyes, the way your resolve crumbled beneath his intensity, how badly you’d been craving this.
a satisfied glint sparked behind his gaze as he leaned in, lips brushing softly against your ear, sending electricity skittering down your spine.
“i hope you didn’t have any plans for the rest of the night,” he whispered darkly, breath hot against your skin, a quiet promise of everything to come.
before you could reply, his hand encircled your wrist, grip firm and possessive, pulling you behind him as he led you down the narrow, dim corridor to your bedroom with strides that echoed like thunder in a brewing storm. each footfall pulsed through you, his frame a coiled serpent radiating lethal intent, leaving your breaths ragged and shallow, caught in the vortex of his gravity.
you followed, pulse hammering, excitement swirling thickly in your chest, your whole body humming with anticipation. the moment the door closed firmly behind you, shut with a decisive click, shutting out the world, you knew without a doubt that tonight would entail all the nasty things that had kept you up at night the past few days.
shotaro stood before you, silhouetted in the lamp’s amber haze like a predator emerging from twilight, his eyes twin infernos devouring you whole as he advanced, deliberately, each step echoing through your senses.
your spine met the chilled wall with a shiver as he closed in, breath ghosting warmly across your lips, fingers skimming lightly over the curve of your jaw, the touch deceptively gentle. he tilted your chin upward firmly, forcing your gaze to meet his, a silent challenge sparking within their depths.
“you know i like you right?,” he purred, words slithering like silk-wrapped venom, his thumb grazing your lower lip with deliberate pressure, igniting sparks that raced down your spine like lightning forking through the night sky.
your breath stuttered, heart racing beneath his fingertips as you nodded slowly, not knowing where he was going with this.
a feral curve twisted his lips, satisfaction glinting darkly behind his gaze as he dipped closer, lips hovering teasingly against yours.
“good,” he rasped, the word thick with shadowed intent, his exhale stealing yours, weaving your essences in a tangled haze. “remember that when i fuck you like i don’t.”
his mouth crashed onto yours, rough and demanding, stealing your breath and obliterating every coherent thought. shotaro kissed you fiercely, possessively, fingers gripping your waist hard enough to bruise, his body pressing you firmly into the wall. you melted beneath his force, surrendering willingly to his dominance, every touch a searing reminder of just how deeply he’d gotten beneath your skin.
by the time he broke away, breathing harshly, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, you were trembling, lost in the intensity of the moment. he leaned his forehead against yours briefly, breath mingling raggedly between you.
“get on the bed,” he commanded quietly, voice raw and edged with barely suppressed need. “let me fuck this anger out of me.”
the thrill of anticipation rushed through you like wildfire, your heartbeat thundering, pulse thrumming eagerly beneath your skin. obediently, you moved toward the bed, feeling his heated gaze tracing your every step. you sank onto the mattress, anticipation pooling hotly in your chest, unable to tear your eyes from him as he followed close behind, movements precise, deliberate, predatory.
looming over you, his gaze blackened to obsidian voids as his fingertips danced up your thigh, snagging the shirt’s edge and dragging it upward in torturous increments, unveiling skin that quivered like dew-kissed petals under dawn’s first blush. but his touch wasn’t patient; fingers dug in sharper than necessary, nails scraping lightly against your flesh, leaving faint red trails that stung sweetly, a prelude to the storm.
“spread them for me angel,” he muttered, voice gravel-rough, no room for negotiation, his free hand shoving your thighs apart with brusque force, exposing you to the cool air that kissed your heated core like a whisper of impending chaos.
you gasped at the suddenness, arousal pooling slick between your folds as he knelt between your parted limbs, his breath hot against your inner thigh, jaw clenching visibly as he fought the urge to dive in without mercy.
but even in his frustration, he lingered, just enough to tease, to build the ache. his lips brushed the sensitive skin there, a ghost of a kiss before his teeth grazed, nipping sharply, sending jolts of electric pain-pleasure radiating upward.
“fuck, you’re already wet,” he groaned, the words muffled against your flesh, his fingers parting your lips with rough precision, exposing your clit to the pad of his thumb, which circled it once, twice, with deliberate slowness that belied his impatience.
your hips bucked instinctively, seeking more, but he pinned you down with one forearm across your pelvis, his shoulders taut as bowstrings, jaw locked in determination.
“don’t fucking move,” he hissed through gritted teeth, though his eyes betrayed the war within, wanting to ravage, yet drawing it out to heighten the torment for you both. his tongue flicked out then, tracing a hot, wet path along your slit, tasting you with a low, guttural hum that vibrated through your core.
it wasn’t gentle laps; it was insistent, probing, his frustration manifesting in the way he sucked your clit between his lips, teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper, the suction pulling blood to the surface, swelling it under his assault.
sweat beaded on his forehead, his free hand gripping your thigh bruisingly, fingers sinking into soft flesh as he devoured you like a man starved, tongue delving deeper, curling inside you to lap at your essence, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room. your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, but he growled against you, the vibration sending shockwaves that had your back arching, toes curling.
he wasn’t in the mood for sweet; each stroke was edged with aggression, his jaw working relentlessly, shoulders rigid as he channeled his pent-up energy into making you squirm, into wringing gasps and pleas from your throat.
“s-shotaro..fuck,” you moaned, the pressure building too fast, your body trembling under his unyielding mouth.
he was a man possessed, starved for days in a barren wasteland, now feasting on you like you were the only sustenance left in a dying world, his tongue plunging deep into your dripping core, lapping up your slick with greedy, insatiable hunger, the wet, obscene slurps echoing through the room like a filthy symphony. spit mixed with your arousal, dribbling down his chin in messy streams, coating his lips and jaw as he sucked harder, his nose buried against your clit, grinding against it with every desperate bob of his head.
your legs quaked violently around him, thighs clamping instinctively around his ears in a vise of overwhelming sensation, but he didn’t care—didn’t flinch, didn’t slow. if anything, it fueled him, his hands prying your thighs wider with bruising force, nails digging crescent moons into sweat-slicked skin, holding you open like a banquet he refused to share.
“stop.fucking.running,” he growled into your folds, the vibration ripping another guttural moan from your throat, loud and unrestrained, bouncing off the walls in raw, desperate echoes. heat radiated from his body, a furnace pressed between your legs, his sweat mingling with yours as it beaded on his forehead, trickling down to mix with the slick mess coating your inner thighs.
you yanked at his hair, fingers twisting in the damp strands, pulling hard enough to sting, trying to ground yourself or maybe pull him away from the brink he was shoving you toward, but he only dove deeper, tongue fucking into you with relentless, starving thrusts, devouring every drop of your essence like a parched wanderer gulping from an oasis.
the room reeked of it—musky desperation, salty sweat, the heady tang of your arousal thickening the air, making every breath you took feel heavy, laced with the filth of it all. your hips bucked wildly against his face, grinding shamelessly, chasing the edge as he sucked your clit between his teeth, nipping just enough to send sparks of pain-laced pleasure shooting through you, your moans turning to sobs, loud and broken, filling the space with your unraveling.
he was merciless, a beast unchained, his frustration pouring out in the way he ate you like it was vengeance—tongue swirling, lips sucking, fingers joining the assault now, two plunging into your soaking heat without warning, curling harshly against that spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids.
slick squelched around his digits, coating his hand in a glossy sheen, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you as he pumped faster, harder, his mouth never leaving your clit, alternating between flicks and sucks that had you thrashing, legs trembling uncontrollably, heels digging into his back. sweat poured from both of you, his shoulders glistening under the dim light, muscles flexing with every savage movement, his starvation evident in the low, animalistic groans vibrating from his chest into your core.
“please—too much,” you whimpered, but the words dissolved into another wail as he added a third finger, stretching you wide, the burn blending with bliss in a nasty, overwhelming rush.
he ignored your pleas, too lost in his hunger, devouring you with no end in sight, spit bubbling at the corners of his mouth, your arousal smeared across his cheeks like war paint. the heat between you was suffocating, a inferno building to eruption, your body a quivering wreck under his assault, moans escalating to screams as the coil snapped—your orgasm crashing over you in a violent wave, gushing against his tongue, but he didn’t stop, lapping it all up with desperate fervor, prolonging the ecstasy until tears streamed down your face.
only then did he pull back, face flushed and slick-shiny, eyes wild with unsatisfied rage, jaw still clenched as he licked his lips clean, savoring the taste like a conqueror.
“not enough,” he rasped again, voice gravelly from the feast, a low growl that sent shivers racing down your spine. his hands, still slick with your arousal, fumbled with his pants, shedding them in a frenzy of impatient tugs.
his cock sprang free, achingly stiff, throbbing with a desperate need that mirrored the wild hunger in his eyes—veins pulsing, tip leaking a glossy bead of precum that glistened in the dim light. he didn’t pause, didn’t savor; he flipped you onto your stomach with a rough yank, hands seizing your hips and jerking them up, your ass presented to him like an offering. the air hit your exposed, dripping core, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body as he positioned himself behind you.
no warning, no tease, just two quick, deliberate taps of his cock against your swollen clit, each one sending a jolt of electric pleasure-pain through your overstimulated nerves, making your thighs quiver uncontrollably.
then, he pushed in, the intrusion brutal and unrelenting, his thick length forcing its way through your gummy walls. you felt every ridge, every pulsing vein dragging against your fluttering, oversensitive flesh, stretching you to the point of delicious agony. your body, already strung tight from the onslaught of his tongue, clenched around him like a vice, struggling to accommodate his size as he sank deeper, deeper, until the blunt head of his cock kissed your cervix with a pressure so intense it stole your breath.
you couldn’t move, couldn’t think—just shook, your body a trembling wreck, teetering on the edge of another orgasm from the sheer fullness of him buried inside you. the stretch burned, a heady mix of pleasure and pain that had you gasping, fingers clawing at the sheets, nails leaving crescent marks in the damp fabric.
your core fluttered wildly, walls spasming as they tried to adjust, but shotaro wasn’t in the mood for patience today. he didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. with a guttural grunt, he pulled out nearly to the tip, the drag of his cock against your sensitive walls making you whimper, only to slam back in with a force that rattled the bedframe, the headboard crashing against the wall in a relentless, rhythmic thud-thud-thud.
the room filled with the obscene symphony of it all—wet, filthy slaps of skin on skin, sweat flying with every brutal thrust, your broken moans spilling unrestrained from your lips, loud and desperate, mingling with his low, animalistic grunts.
his grip on your thighs tightened, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising intensity, leaving marks that would bloom purple by morning. he fucked you like a man possessed, hips pistoning with a fury that channeled every ounce of his pent-up energy into you, his shoulders rigid, jaw locked, sweat dripping from his brow to mingle with the slick mess coating your skin.
your body was a live wire, every nerve singing with overstimulation, the coil in your core tightening impossibly fast as he pounded into you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. the bed shook under the assault, creaking in protest, the sheets soaked with a mix of sweat and your arousal, the musky scent of sex thickening the air, heavy and suffocating. your legs trembled, barely able to hold you up, but his iron grip kept you in place, forcing you to take every punishing inch.
your moans were broken, desperate, spilling unrestrained, mingling with the wet, filthy slaps of skin on skin, his low, animalistic grunts vibrating through the haze.
“mmm fuck-fucking me s-so good.”
then, just as you teetered on the brink, chasing that shattering high, shotaro slowed, his hips grinding to a torturous, deliberate roll that dragged his cock against your oversensitive walls, teasing the release you craved. your whine tore from your throat, raw and needy, as he came to a complete stop, leaving you trembling, aching, your core clenching pathetically around him.
his lips curled into a wicked grin, eyes glinting with cruel amusement as he watched you squirm, your nails clawing at his chest, leaving red trails across his sweat-slicked skin. you rolled your hips desperately beneath him, trying to chase the friction, to pull him back into that relentless rhythm, but he just laughed—a low, taunting chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine.
“so needy,” he mocked, voice dripping with sadistic delight, his hands pinning your hips still, denying you even the smallest movement.
you opened your mouth to protest, a broken plea spilling out, but he cut you off, leaning forward, his face hovering inches from yours. without warning, he spat into your open mouth, the warm, wet shock of it making you flinch, your core clenching tighter around him as a perverse thrill shot through you.
“need you on top, princess,” he growled, the words laced with command, his grin widening at the way your eyes widened, half desperation, half defiance.
you whined in protest, the sound pathetic even to your own ears, but he was already moving, sliding out of you with a slow, deliberate drag that left your walls fluttering, aching, missing the stretch of him as they clenched around nothing. the loss was agonizing, your body trembling with need, slick dripping down your thighs as you looked up at him, hoping to change his mind with pleading eyes.
but shotaro just shook his head, his expression unyielding, a glint of cruel satisfaction in his gaze as he settled back against the headboard, muscles flexing under sweat-sheened skin.
“c’mon,” he said, voice low and commanding, his hands grabbing your hips and dragging you forward, positioning you exactly where he wanted. “you’re gonna ride me.” his tone left no room for argument, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you up, forcing you to straddle him.
you’re straddling him, thighs trembling as you sink down onto his cock, the thick, rigid length splitting you open with a slow, deliberate grind that pulls a shattered moan from your lips. your core clenching tight as he filled you again, every inch a delicious torment, the room a haze of heat and desperation.
shotaro’s hips roll upward, each thrust a calculated torment, sinking so deep you feel him in your bones, your core clenching tight around him, already frayed from the hour of relentless teasing he’s inflicted. every nerve is a live wire, your body a quivering wreck, muscles aching from the strain of holding yourself together when you’re already so close to breaking.
the phone rings, a shrill, piercing sound that slices through the heavy stillness, shattering the rhythm of your gasps. it buzzes loudly against the nightstand, an insistent intrusion that clashes with the wet, filthy squelch of his cock driving into you. you flinch, but shotaro doesn’t pause, doesn’t even acknowledge it—just sinks deeper, a firm hand pressing into the small of your back, anchoring you in place as his other hand lazily traces your lower lip, smearing your breathless whimpers across your flushed, sweat-damp skin. your thighs shake, slick with arousal, your body teetering on the edge of collapse, every nerve screaming from overstimulation.
your eyes flick to the glowing screen and see chaewon calling and your stomach drops, a perverse mix of dread and excitement twisting in your gut. shotaro sees it first, his gaze sharpening, the soft glow illuminating the heart emoji next to her name. his lips curl into a faintly wicked smirk, eyes glinting with a dangerous calm that sends a shiver racing down your spine.
he doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop, just keeps fucking into you with that same relentless rhythm, each thrust dragging against your oversensitive walls, making your head spin.
“answer it,” he says, voice low and smooth, a challenge laced with cruel amusement.
your throat tightens, pulse spiking as you shake your head, voice barely a whisper. “shotaro—”
his eyes darken, pupils blown wide, fierce and unyielding, the smirk vanishing into something merciless. “answer. the. fucking. phone,” he growls, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust that makes you choke on a moan, your walls fluttering wildly around him.
your hand trembles as you reach for the nightstand, fingers slick with sweat, fumbling to grasp the vibrating phone. you’re a mess, skin flushed and sticky, thighs quaking from the effort of staying upright as he keeps driving into you, no mercy, no pause, his cock throbbing inside your dripping core, stretching you to the point of delirium.
you swipe to answer, voice cracking as you manage a weak, “h-hello?”
chaewon’s voice cuts through, bright and oblivious, a stark contrast to the filthy chaos unfolding. “hey! did you finish the notes for macro? i totally spaced during today’s lecture.”
you try to respond, but shotaro shifts beneath you, hips grinding upward in a slow, deliberate thrust that sends a jolt of pleasure-pain tearing through you. a moan slips out, loud and involuntary, and you slap a trembling hand over your mouth, cheeks burning with shame as you fight to keep it together. your eyes widen in panic, but shotaro just chuckles, low and taunting, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in close.
“don’t act like you can’t multitask,” he whispers, voice dripping with cruel amusement. “keep talking.”
you suck in a shaky breath, eyes squeezing shut as you force out a response, voice thin and strained.
“y-yeah, i took them,” you choke, the words barely audible, your body trembling as his fingers slip between your thighs, finding your swollen clit and pressing slow, lazy circles that make your hips jerk forward, pleasure surging like a tidal wave.
his other hand slides up, fingers curling around your throat—not choking, but possessive, a firm reminder of who controls every shudder, every gasp. the dominance grounds you, amplifies the sinful heat pooling in your core, your walls clenching tighter around him as he keeps up the slow, torturous rhythm. slick drips down your thighs, soaking his lap, the wet sounds obscene, mingling with your desperate, muffled whimpers as you clutch the phone like a lifeline.
“you okay?” chaewon asks, concern creeping into her tone. “you sound kind of weird.”
you bite your lip hard, tasting copper, chest heaving with suppressed sobs as the pleasure builds to a breaking point.
“fine,” you whisper, voice cracking, barely holding it together as shotaro’s fingers press harder, circling your clit with ruthless precision, his cock twitching inside you, his amusement palpable in the way he watches you unravel.
“you’re gonna cum with her on the phone, aren’t you, angel?” he murmurs against your ear, voice low and filthy, dripping with sadistic satisfaction.
the words send a shiver through you, your core clenching so tight it draws a hissed curse from his lips, his hips stuttering for a moment before he grinds even deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust.
“i—i’ll send them later,” you stammer, voice barely audible, desperate to end the call before you lose it completely. your body’s a trembling wreck, thighs shaking uncontrollably as the coil in your stomach tightens to an unbearable peak, every nerve screaming for release.
“you’re the best,” chaewon says brightly, oblivious to the way you’re shattering, your body caught in the merciless rhythm of shotaro’s hips. “seriously, don’t know what i’d do without you.”
you can’t respond. shotaro tilts your chin down, forcing your glazed, tear-streaked eyes to meet his, his gaze burning with dark, unyielding command.
“do it,” he mouths, slow and deliberate, eyes fierce and merciless. “cum for me.”
the last thread of your control snaps like a wire under too much tension. you gasp, a sharp, broken sound, thighs quaking violently as your orgasm crashes through you, gushing around his cock, your walls spasming uncontrollably, soaking his lap in a slick, filthy mess.
tears spill down your cheeks, your voice breaking on a whispered, “g-gotta go,” as you fumble to disconnect the call, chaewon’s voice cut off mid-sentence.
the phone slips from your trembling fingers, landing with a dull thud on the floor, forgotten in the haze of your unraveling. shotaro’s smirk widens, slow and wicked, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he watches you break, your body a quivering, hypersensitive mess above him. his fingers trace through the slick between your thighs, savoring the mess of your release, your humiliation, before he grips your hips with bruising force, lifting you just enough to reposition you.
you’re barely coherent, still shaking, skin flushed and slick with sweat, but he doesn’t care—doesn’t give you a moment to recover. with a ruthless snap of his hips, he drives into you again, harder, deeper, the wet squelch of your bodies colliding filling the room, the headboard slamming against the wall in a relentless, pounding rhythm. his hands dig into your flesh, nails leaving crescent marks, his pace savage, unyielding, as if he’s only just begun to claim you, as if the night is far from over.
shotaro laughs darkly, pulling out just long enough to flip you back onto your back, then slamming back in from behind.
“good girl,” he praises, voice rough with need.
“knew my cock drunk whore couldn’t keep her excitement to herself. filthy slut talking to her best friend while she’s stuffed.”
“t-taro..”
“shh, i’m just getting started.”
your body, still wrecked and trembling from the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, clenched helplessly around him, desperate and overwhelmed, and it only seemed to spur him on. the way you gasped against his mouth, the way your nails dug into the slick heat of his skin, the way your whole body bowed into him without thought, without pride, without anything but the desperate need to keep him inside you.
the world outside of him blurred, softened, disintegrated, until there was nothing left but the slow, wet sound of your bodies moving together, the low rasp of his breath spilling across your flushed skin, the sharp sting of his teeth catching at the delicate curve of your jaw between gasps of your name.
his cock dragged against every trembling, sensitive part of you, setting you alight from the inside out, slow and merciless, and you felt yourself dissolving under him, your vision glazing at the edges, your limbs going boneless and weightless as the slow, brutal pleasure hollowed you out, leaving you empty and raw and aching for more, for him, for everything he was willing to give and everything he wasn’t.
the soft, breathless sounds slipping from both your lips blurred into a shared rhythm, a quiet, desperate symphony that drowned out the world, reduced it to the slick, relentless slide of him inside you, the heat of his hands shaping your hips, the heavy, broken murmurs of praise and possession breathed directly into your skin.
your mind, already fragile and battered, sank deeper under the weight of him, spiraling down into something warm and thick and golden, a place where the only thing that mattered was the slow grind of his cock, the way he filled you so perfectly you could feel him in your throat, the way his body caged you in so completely you couldn’t tell where your heartbeat ended and his began.
shotaro’s eyes, dark and hooded, locked onto yours as he pulled back just enough to watch you unravel. his hands, strong and unyielding, slid down your thighs, gripping them firmly before prying them apart wider, holding you open for him like a prize he intended to claim over and over.
“look at you,” he murmured, voice rough with satisfaction, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of your inner thighs to keep you spread, exposed, vulnerable. “so fucking perfect, taking it all. taking everything i give you like the good slut that you are.”
you whimpered, the overstimulation already creeping in as he thrust deeper, his pace picking up—not frantic, but deliberate, each roll of his hips designed to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. your walls fluttered around him, still sensitive from the last climax, and the friction bordered on too much, a delicious burn that had tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
but you didn’t want him to stop; couldn’t bear the thought of it. your hands reached for him, clutching at his shoulders, but he shook his head, a wicked smile curving his lips.
“no,” he said softly, almost tenderly, as he pinned your legs even wider, his body weight pressing down to keep you immobilized. “you’re gonna stay like this. open for me. let me see how much you can take.”
his fingers found your clit then, swollen and throbbing from earlier abuse, and he circled it slowly at first, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. the dual sensation was immediate and overwhelming—pleasure spiking sharp and hot through your core, making your hips buck involuntarily against his hold.
“s-sho please,” you gasped, not even sure what you were begging for, your voice breaking on the words as another wave built too quickly, too intensely.
he didn’t relent, his touch turning harsher, fingers rubbing your clit with firm, insistent pressure while his cock pounded into you, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room.
“come on, give me another one,” he demanded, voice low and commanding, his free hand gripping your thigh harder, bruising the skin as he forced your legs to stay splayed.
“i know you can. you’re so good for me, aren’t you? so needy.”
the words melted into you, wrapping around your fracturing mind like silk, pulling you deeper into that hazy, golden space where everything felt amplified—every thrust, every stroke, every breath he took.
your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, the coil tightening unbearably fast, and then you were shattering again, crying out as your orgasm ripped through you, walls clenching around him in spasms that left you shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks.
but he didn’t stop. if anything, he pushed harder, his fingers never leaving your clit, rubbing through the sensitivity, forcing sparks of pleasure-pain that made you sob.
“that’s it,” he groaned, his own breath ragged now, sweat beading on his forehead as he watched you with dark fascination.
“fuck, you look so beautiful like this. falling apart on my cock. one more, baby. i want to feel you break again.”
your mind was slipping, the edges fraying as overstimulation consumed you entirely. everything was too much—the relentless thrust of shotaro’s cock inside you, splitting you open with every punishing snap of his hips, the unyielding pressure of his fingers on your swollen clit, circling with cruel precision, and the way his iron grip held you open, denying you even a moment’s escape from the searing intensity.
words dissolved into nothing; all you could manage were broken whimpers, your head lolling back against the pillow, vision blurring as the room spun in a haze of heat and sensation. sweat slicked your skin, dripping down your trembling thighs, mingling with the obscene slickness coating your core, the sheets beneath you soaked and ruined.
shotaro leaned down, his mouth crashing into yours, a messy, devouring kiss that swallowed your desperate cries. his tongue was relentless, claiming you as fiercely as his cock, driving into you faster, harder, each thrust sending shocks of pleasure-pain through your oversensitive body. his fingers pinched your clit, just enough to make you jolt, a ragged sob tearing from your throat as your hips bucked involuntarily, your body no longer your own, caught in the storm of his hunger.
“don’t fight it,” he whispered against your lips, voice a low, gravelly lifeline in the chaos, his breath hot and ragged. “let go for me. i’ve got you.”
but he wasn’t stopping—not now, not until he’d wrung every last drop from you, until you were a trembling, shattered mess beneath him. his eyes burned with a dangerous focus, no longer speaking to you but to your pussy, his cock plunging deeper, dragging against every sensitive spot with ruthless intent.
he wanted more—wanted you to squirt, to soak the sheets, to flood everything around him in a messy, undeniable testament to his dominance. your legs trembled violently, instinctively trying to snap shut around him, your whole body burning, skin flushed and fever-hot, but it didn’t faze him. his hands pried your thighs apart with bruising force, nails digging into your sweat-slicked flesh, holding you wide open as he fucked you into oblivion.
“come on, baby,” he growled, voice thick with hunger, his hips slamming into you with a rhythm that shook the bedframe, the headboard crashing against the wall in a relentless thud-thud-thud.
“give me another one. you know you can.”
you were choking on sobs, thrashing beneath his hold, your body a quivering wreck as you fought against the overwhelming tide of sensation. your core clenched tight around him, spasming wildly, slick gushing with every thrust, dripping down his cock to pool on the sheets below.
the air was thick with the musky, heady scent of sex, the wet, obscene squelch of his cock driving into you filling the room, mingling with your broken wails and his low, animalistic grunts. you were too far gone, too overstimulated, every nerve screaming, your mind a haze of white-hot pleasure-pain.
“c-can’t,” you whimpered, voice cracking, barely audible over the chaos. “t-taro, i-i-i c-can’t take—”
“yes you can, baby,” he cut you off, voice firm and unyielding, his fingers pressing harder against your clit, rubbing fast, tight circles that made your vision blur. “yes you can.”
“you’re my good girl,” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear, his voice dripping with possessive pride. “yes you fucking can.”
he was relentless, a machine fueled by raw, insatiable need, his cock pounding into you with a force that rattled your bones, each thrust pushing you closer to a breaking point you didn’t think you could survive.
your legs shook uncontrollably, thighs trembling so hard they ached, your body trying to curl in on itself, but shotaro was stronger, his grip unyielding, pinning you in place as he chased what he wanted. his own release seemed a distant thought, his focus razor-sharp on breaking you, on making you give him what he craved.
the pressure built, unbearable, a tight, coiling heat in your core that felt different—wilder, more intense, like something was about to snap. your sobs turned to screams, raw and desperate, your nails clawing at his shoulders, leaving red welts in their wake as you thrashed beneath him. his fingers didn’t stop, rubbing your clit with a ruthless rhythm, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you over and over, driving you toward an edge you couldn’t comprehend.
“taro—please—” you gasped, voice breaking, tears streaming down your face as your body trembled, teetering on the brink. but he didn’t let up, his eyes dark and feral, his grin wicked and unrelenting as he pushed you further, determined to see you unravel completely.
“give it to me,” he growled, voice low and commanding, his thrusts growing erratic, harder, deeper, the wet squelch of your bodies colliding louder, filthier. “fucking soak me, baby.”
the coil snapped, and your world shattered. a violent, gushing release tore through you, your body convulsing as you squirted, a hot, messy flood that sprayed across his hips, soaking his cock, his thighs, the sheets beneath you in a glistening, obscene mess.
the sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure that left you shaking, sobbing, your walls spasming uncontrollably around him as slick poured from you, pooling in a sticky, wet puddle that drenched everything. the air reeked of it—musky, raw, the scent of your release mixing with sweat and sex, thick and suffocating.
shotaro groaned, low and guttural, his eyes glinting with savage satisfaction as he watched you break, his fingers still circling your clit, prolonging the ecstasy until you were a quivering, hypersensitive wreck, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body trembling so violently you could barely hold yourself together.
your mind was gone, lost in the haze of overstimulation, every touch, every thrust sending fresh shocks through your already shattered nerves. your legs tried to close again, weak and shaking, but he forced them open, his hands bruising as he pinned you down, his cock still driving into you, relentless, chasing his own high now that he’d gotten what he wanted.
“fuck, look at you,” he rasped, voice hoarse, his hips stuttering as he fucked you through the mess, the wet, filthy sounds louder now, amplified by the slick flood coating everything.
“my good girl, giving me everything.”
your body was beyond spent, a trembling, shattered husk teetering on the edge of consciousness, fading in and out as the world blurred into a haze of overstimulation.
your vision swam, edges dark and unfocused, your mind so blank it felt like you were no longer living, just a vessel for the relentless pleasure-pain shotaro had wrung from you.
your core ached, still spasming from, every nerve raw, screaming, your body a quivering wreck that could barely hold itself together.
shotaro groaned, low and primal, his eyes dark with a carnal hunger that hadn’t dimmed, his cock still rock-hard inside you, throbbing with a desperate need to claim you fully. he’d held out for so long, teasing and tormenting, but now the raw, animalistic urge to spill inside you consumed him—to fill you up so completely that his cum would take permanent residence, leaking from your pussy in a filthy, undeniable mark of his possession.
the thought alone made him growl, his hips stuttering as he pictured it, his restraint finally snapping.
with a flicker of mercy, he flipped you onto your back, your body too weak to resist, collapsing limply against the mattress. you buried your face in the pillows, drooling uncontrollably onto the soaked sheets, clutching at them for leverage as your trembling fingers sought something—anything—to ground you.
your body was no longer yours, every muscle slack, every movement involuntary, shotaro’s cock impaling you with a force that felt like it was splitting you apart. you reached a shaking hand back, weakly trying to push at his hips, a pathetic attempt to slow him, but he swatted it away with a low chuckle, delivering a harsh slap to your ass that stung sharp and hot, making you yelp into the pillows.
“move that fucking hand,” he growled, voice rough and unyielding, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he sped up, using you exactly the way you’d wanted—raw, relentless, like you were nothing but a vessel for his pleasure.
his cocksleeve.
your cries were muffled, nose runny, eyes blurry and wet with tears that streamed down your flushed cheeks, staining the sheets beneath you. your thighs shook uncontrollably, barely able to keep you up, but his iron grip held you in place, forcing you to take every punishing thrust. the bed creaked, the headboard slamming against the wall in a frantic rhythm, the room filled with the obscene symphony of wet, filthy slaps and your broken sobs.
shotaro’s pace grew erratic, his hips snapping harder, faster, his cock dragging against your oversensitive walls, each thrust a delicious torment that pushed you past your limits. your body was a furnace, skin slick with sweat, slick still dripping from your earlier release, coating your thighs and his lap in a glistening mess. he groaned, low and guttural, the sound vibrating through his chest as he leaned forward, dragging you up by the neck until your back was flush against his front, his sweat-slicked skin burning against yours.
“fuck, gonna fill you up,” he rasped, voice hoarse with need, his lips brushing your ear before trailing hot, messy kisses down your neck, teeth grazing your skin. his cock twitched inside you, throbbing with the imminent release he’d been holding back for so long.
with a few final, savage pumps, he buried himself deep, a primal groan tearing from his throat as he spilled inside you, thick white ropes of cum flooding your core. it was relentless, overwhelming, filling you so completely you swore you’d burst, the heat of it searing, pooling inside you as he kept thrusting, milking every last drop into your trembling, overfilled pussy.
you whimpered, body shaking, too full, too spent, as his cum leaked out around his cock, dripping down your thighs in sticky, obscene rivulets, mingling with the slick mess already soaking the sheets.
his kisses turned softer, lips sucking gently at the sensitive skin of your neck, but his grip on you didn’t loosen, holding you tight against him as he rode out the aftershocks, his cock still pulsing inside you. your head lolled back against his shoulder, vision fading in and out, your body a quivering, hypersensitive wreck, drool and tears staining your face, your core still spasming around him, every movement sending fresh jolts through your shattered nerves.
“that’s it,” he murmured, voice low and possessive, his hands sliding up to cup your face, thumb brushing away a tear as he kissed the corner of your mouth, savoring your surrender.
“all mine.”
the tension in his jaw was gone, the hard line replaced by a lazy, sated grin that curled his lips as he looked down at you, your flushed, tear-streaked face that was pressed into the soaked sheets, drool pooling beneath your cheek.
his cock still rested inside you, softening now, cum and slick leaking from your overfilled core, dripping in sticky, obscene trails down your shaking thighs to join the ruined mess beneath you. the air was thick, heavy with the musky scent of sex, sweat, and raw desire, the room silent save for your ragged, uneven breaths and the faint creak of the bed settling.
his fingers traced lazy patterns along your side, savoring the way your body quivered under even the lightest touch, every nerve frayed and oversensitive, your mind a blank haze of exhaustion. he’d taken everything—poured every ounce of his frustration into you, leaving you shattered, spent, a perfect vessel for his release.
“you’re the perfect stress reliever, angel,” he murmured, voice low and warm, laced with satisfaction, the words sinking into your foggy consciousness as he pressed a final kiss to your temple.
synopsis: your husband takes far too long to return home to you.
word count: 0.6k
content warning: fem!reader, some playful teasing
author's note: this is inspired off a prompt post on tumblr but i can't find it again, super sorry... also an old draft that i converted into husband!taro propaganda :) don't be scared of it, just be aware of it.
---
The ceiling fan is starting to irritate you.
As it usually does, which Shotaro would say if he was here. It’s this dull, humming sound in the midst of the cars beeping down on the street floor. Your apartment is only two floors up and you can hear the occasional yell of a pedestrian and the pounding of feet on the pavement below.
Your husband has gone to get vegetables for tonight’s dinner because you had forgotten to get them after your grueling shift today. Shotaro said that you were too excited about bringing home those chocolates he liked so much.
God forbid you get enthusiastic to surprise your husband with something he likes.
Of course, despite you saying the vegetables could be forgotten tonight, Taro insisted because you hardly ate a vegetable ever. A bit dramatic, you thought.
What you estimated would be an hour trip has stretched into fifteen minutes late, though. Then thirty, forty and fifty minutes. Two whole hours.
“What is he, buying the whole store?” You groan to yourself, grabbing the end of the kitchen counter to twist and stretch your back.
As if on cue, the front door’s lock is being jingled around, and you smirk, hearing Shotaro struggle to jam the house key in. You hear him swear in Japanese under his breath through the thin wood, laughing to yourself before hopping off the counter to unlock the door.
Cocking a sarcastic brow, you swing it open with a smile. “The key is upside down.”
Taro looks up, mouth slightly agape in surprise before breaking into a grin. “How did you know?”
You don’t respond, instead sparing your husband’s feelings by taking two bags off his hands.
“Because all the scratches on the doorknob are from you. Who else? A robber trying to break in?”
“You think you’re so hilarious, huh?” He giggles, toeing his boots off as you shuffle into the kitchen to place down the groceries.
“Why did you take so long, by the way? I almost started our show without you.”
You’re completely joking but it riles Taro up anyway, who lands a soft kick to your ass at the teasing.
“You wouldn’t! Besides, I got sidetracked. I ran into Jerry with his street cart and bought the usual watermelon off him, of course. Then we started chatting about how his wife and kids are doing, so… there was that.”
“What, for an hour?” You say incredulously, swinging behind Taro to take a bite of his upper forearm, firm with muscle from dancing.
Your hands tug at his shirt, skimming the skin on his smooth stomach but Shotaro doesn’t complain, eyes laser-focused on unloading vegetables from plastic bags.
“You know how I am. I could listen to that old man talk forever. I think he made about five sales in the time I was dawdling around him.”
“And you…” Your eyes scan the large amount of groceries stretched on your countertop. “Managed to spend about 50 dollars more than you said you would…”
Taro knocks his hip into yours. “Hey! I bought you mangoes! You said they were in season!”
“And what about the vegetables, darling? There’s enough to feel like I’m about to partake in Veggie Tales right now.”
“Babe, c’mon,” He says with a giggle, planting a kiss onto your cheek. “We both know you need this. I refuse to be married to someone that has a diet of a picky toddler.”
“Why do you have to be right?” You groan to the ceiling, dramatically collapsing into Taro’s back, who easily turns to catch you with an amused sigh.
“You’re acting like I’m torturing you by feeding you actual fiber.”
You make a complaining noise just for the fun of it, tucking your face into his neck. His strong arms circle around your entire torso, happily smiling as he noses your cheek to see your face.
“Taro, just shush… I missed you. Can't you see you were basically torturing me by taking forever?”
waking up next to shotaro and the sun is shining slightly through the window lighting up his pretty face and he wakes up and catches you looking at him and it’s just pure fluff on a relaxing morning😬😬
omg this reminds me of the first taro fluff i wrote 😭🤞 also thank you for requesting taro i rarely see any fluff for him on here <3
Shotaro is so beautiful.
Not the type of beautiful on the front of the storefront magazines or on your Instagram feed (though you could find him there too).
Shotaro is the type of beauty you only find in rare, fleeting moments. He’s like a firefly you caught in a jar. A small miracle you won’t let go of now that it’s yours.
You know it’s too early to be awake, not even 6am. Yet you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the boy sleeping next to you. His pink lips parted and moist from saliva, prominent cupids bow and a natural pout. His eyelashes sit prettily on his cheeks and his blonde bangs lazily resting over the smooth clean skin of his forehead and nose.
It’s barely dawn, the sun is a golden-red color coming from the window on the other half of your bedroom casting a sort of golden halo around Shotaros head.
He always did remind you of an angel.
You can’t help yourself as you reach forward and move a piece of hair from his nose. His eyelashes flutter, his nose scrunches slightly and he lets out a small laugh.
“Osaki Shotaro how long have you been awake?!” You lightly flick the boy's nose, he opens his pretty brown eyes and smiles at you. There’s a hint of drowsiness on his features but it’s obvious he hasn’t been sleeping this whole time.
“I was sleeping…” He says with an exaggerated yawn that wouldn’t be able to convince anyone. “You were not…” You use the same exaggerated sleepy voice he’s using to tease him.
Shotaro leans up and gently presses his lips to yours before leaning back on his elbows and smiling sheepishly. “Fine, you caught me.”
“You know you’re really beautiful when you sleep.” Shotaro flushes at your words. He knows you were watching him, he knows what you were thinking. But something about the way you say it, so genuine and kind, it makes his chest tighten in the best way possible.
“Come here…” He waits a beat before softening his voice further (if that’s even possible) “Please…”
You lean forward and connect your lips again, knowing exactly what he wants from you. His warm hand cups your cheek and he presses a kiss to the corner and top of your lip before resting his forehead against yours. He’s so close his lips are still touching yours faintly when he talks.
“I don’t think I told you why I was awake, did I?”
“I don’t think you did…” Your lips brush over his as you speak.
“I woke up because of the sun and couldn’t fall back asleep when I saw you sleeping beside me.” He presses his lips against yours enough to qualify as a proper kiss, just a quick one. “You know the sunrise is one thing but you…” He kisses you again. “You’re not even fair competition for it.”
Shotaro uses the hand on your cheek to gently tilt your head and the leverage he has from how flustered his words have made you to slip your lower lip between his own.
You immediately melt into the familiar sensation of him lightly sucking on the skin, morning breath forgotten. The warm wet feeling of your boyfriend's tongue brushes over your lower lip catching you by surprise.
“Taro it’s barely even six in the morning…” You speak against his mouth. Your words are somehow less convincing to him than they were to you by the way he pulls you down with him and slips his tongue past your lips again.
You let him lazily kiss you, occasionally brushing your tongue against his own until the two of you let the drowsiness take over.
It won’t be until hours later that you wake up chest to chest with your foreheads pressed together and your heartbeats in sync.
genre. ballet au. fluff and a lil drama.
warnings. shotaro has a bit of an annoying ex. reader has hair long enough to put in a bun. ballet terminology that you may or may not understand sry </3.
pairing. professional ballet dancer!shotaro x professional ballet dancer!reader.
wc. 2k.
request. no.
a/n. i had a lot of fun writing this since i used to dance as well, tho the drama i added was a bit unnecessary. i kinda didn't want to lean into the toxic ballet environment stereotype cause honestly it's just not true?? but anything the get the wc up 😭😭😭
You could feel Shotaro’s hot breath on your neck as he set you back down from the lift, waiting for you to catch your balance for the arabesque before he let go and you did your final sequence of pirouettes to end the first pas de deux. Romeo and Juliet was one of your favourite ballets to perform, but god was it tiring. You could feel your legs and feet screaming for rest, but you prepared for the turn sequence nonetheless, knowing you had no time to rest.
Your body went into autopilot as usual, and you pushed up onto relevé for the fouettés, ignoring all your body’s signs for rest. You felt Shotaro’s hands come back to your waist after the 5th turn, holding you steady for the last 3. You ended as gracefully as you started, with a practiced smile before the music ended and you were able to relax finally.
You heaved in a few breaths, Shotaro doing the same next to you. He gave your shoulder a quick squeeze, something that would go unnoticed if you weren’t looking for it.
You listened to the director’s few corrections and praises before making your way off stage and into your private dressing room. It was the first stage rehearsal before shows started tomorrow. There was a full week of night time showings and 2 afternoon ones as well. At least you would be getting a good pay check for this season.
You had just finished changing into your regular clothes when you heard the familiar knock on the door and sighed in relief. Shotaro opened the door slowly, smiling at you fondly through the mirror. He had already changed as well, and splashed water on his face and hair to cool off, it seemed. He was always faster than you were. He came up behind you, draping his arms over your chair and around your chest, chin rested on your shoulder.
“Tired?” You asked him, reaching to take out the bobby pins in your hair. He nodded and nestled further into your neck. You scratched his head gently on your way to get another bobby pin, and he sighed.
“So tired. I shouldn’t have signed up for those early morning classes tomorrow. I’ll barely have time to sleep tonight, and then the first show is tomorrow.” He complained. You were about to respond when you heard a knock on the door and straightened. Shotaro quickly jumped back a safe distance from you, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning on the wall. You were both used to the routine of hiding your relationship at all costs.
Your heart sank when you realized it was Haeun, your main understudy for the show. Your life when you joined the ballet company had been fairly easy and drama free, until you somehow got on her bad side. You were always competing for the main roles in shows, and you hated the pressure. You had worked extra hard to earn the role of Juliet in this ballet particularly, since you knew Shotaro would already be cast for Romeo.
It was a romantic ballet, and there were quite a few kisses on stage for the purpose of the story. Of course you knew it was all acting even if he had to kiss someone else, but you really didn’t want it to be Haeun. She seemed less than pleased that she only got understudy for Juliet, and kept bothering you every day after rehearsals were over.
She looked shocked as soon as she saw that Shotaro was in your dressing room as well. You hoped she wouldn’t mention it, but, of course, she did.
“Osaki. I didn’t expect to find you in here as well.” She gave a forced smile that you saw through the mirror.
“I was just talking to Y/n about some details for the pas de deux.” He said smoothly, diverting any suspicion. “She was amazing during rehearsals, don’t you think? So perfect for the role of Juliet.” He smiled adorably, looking at you fondly. Haeun looked less than happy about him praising you.
There was a moment of silence, and you were sure she was about to protest Shotaro’s words, probably making up some criticism about you dancing badly during rehearsals. You knew you hadn’t. Shotaro was right; you had danced near perfectly. Haeun always pulled something out of thin air just to degrade you. You had learned to not listen to anything that came out of her mouth, but you were slightly worried with Shotaro still in the room.
She seemed deterred from saying her usual rude remarks when Shotaro was there to hear them as well. She agreed quietly before leaving the dressing room. You felt some weight lifted off your chest as your boyfriend closed the door again. You rested your forehead against the desk of the vanity, hoping that that was the last time you had to worry about Haeun bothering you before the fight for main roles in Alice in Wonderland.
“What was that about?” Shotaro asked curiously, quirking a brow at you through the mirror.
“She usually comes to bother me after class, rehearsal, shows— really any chance she gets. I guess it’s entertaining for her.” You shook your head, grabbing your hair brush as you pulled the bun net off your hair and let it fall free.
“She’s not very nice.” Shotaro said quietly, taking the brush from your hand and running it gently through your hair for you.
“I know. I don’t mind that much anymore. Don’t worry, okay?” You smiled at him through the mirror, adoring his shiny eyes and button nose as he beamed back at you.
“All done.” He kissed your temple. “Let’s grab food on the way back.”
You packed up quickly and followed Shotaro out of the building, carefully making sure you didn’t hold his hand until you were 2 blocks away from the theatre. At this point, you weren’t even worried about the company finding out about your relationship, but you were sure if Haeun got word of it, she wouldn’t let it go.
You nudged your boyfriend’s shoulder, “Taro.” He hummed, happily accepting one of your earbuds that you were offering. You turned on his favourite playlist and walked hand-in-hand to a good Japanese restaurant.
//
The show was going absolutely perfect— if you ignored how Haeun glared at you backstage. You weren’t sure why she was making so much effort today of all days. She had her own roles in the ballet to focus on, and you wished for once she would focus on being as professional as possible instead of picking a fight with you.
It was during the first intermission that she finally spoke to you. You had just gotten off stage after your scene with Shotaro; Romeo and Juliet had professed their love for one another. You had a longer break than just the 20 minute intermission, as you wouldn’t be needed on stage until after the first scene of Act 2. Haeun seemed eager to take a hold of this break. She quickly found you in your dressing room after you had slipped into your stage outfit for Act 2.
“I knew you were always brazen, but you’ve certainly outdone yourself this time, haven’t you?” She snapped.
“Haeun, what are you mad about this time? Now is not the time to bring up some petty complaint-” You got cut off by her before you could finish.
“Petty? Don’t you think that’s a bit hypocritical coming from your mouth? There’s nothing pettier than dating just to get back at me. You thought it would affect me, didn’t you? Well, it didn’t. You can stop the act now.” She sneered, and you were half certain she was critically insane at this point.
“What are you talking about? I’ve never done something like that.” You probably shouldn’t have engaged in the conversation in the first place. It was smarter to ignore her and not give her the attention she wanted, but you were genuinely bewildered as to what she was talking about this time.
“You thought I wouldn’t know that you started dating Shotaro? Why else would you purposefully date my ex boyfriend?! You’re determined to steal everything from me, aren’t you?” She raised your voice louder than you would have liked, the ringing getting to your ears before she left the room.
You weren’t even sure you had heard her right. Shotaro? Ex boyfriend? It was probably the most absurd thing to ever come out of her mouth, but what scared you was that she sounded genuine this time. All previous attempts to get under your skin were so obviously ridiculous, that you weren’t willing to spend even an ounce of your mental energy on it. But the honesty in her voice threw you off guard. Was she being truthful about dating Shotaro?
There was only 5 minutes to stage and you still hadn’t done your hair. You decided you would circle back to the topic after the show. For now, you had to focus on getting ready before you had to be on stage.
The rest of the show went smoothly, and even Haeun didn’t seem to bother you on or off stage. All of it was rubbing you the wrong way— her previous words, her sudden disinterest in bothering you, and how genuine she had sounded. It didn’t excuse all the times she had picked a fight with you for no reason, but maybe in her mind you had actually wronged her.
The company had always been competitive for lead roles, and you were confident that you were only cast because you fit well with the production. You did better in classic ballet roles, and were often only part of the company group during more modern ballet showings. You had seen Haeun get cast as the lead for many shows, so her obsession with you getting lead roles always seemed to confuse you.
Romeo and Juliet, Swan Lake, Giselle, even Cinderella. All of these ballets you had performed alongside Shotaro, even long before you had started dating him. Maybe that was why she was upset over it; because you were the one performing alongside him instead of her.
Shotaro came to your dressing room after the show as usual, his usual bright and bubbly energy so contagious that you couldn’t help but smile at him. You had only one thing to ask of him before you let the topic rest.
“Hey, Taro?” You wiped off some of your makeup as you spoke.
“Hm?”
“Did you date Haeun?”
He laughed a little at your question and you threw him a questioning glance through the mirror, “Yeah, for like 2 weeks. She really liked me, but I didn’t really like her back much. I think she still likes me even though I ended it so long ago. We haven’t spoken at all outside of work for 3 years now. Why do you ask?”
“She just brought it up with me earlier. I was just wondering since you had never mentioned it before— but given that it was so short, I see why. I think that’s why she’s been bothering me as well.” You explained, much more reassured than you had been before.
Shotaro scrunched his nose, “She knew about us dating? I’m surprised she didn’t say anything to the director… I would’ve expected her to make a bigger deal out of it.”
“Me too. I’m guessing she couldn’t say anything because it would harm you and not just me. Either way, I’m not too worried about hiding our relationship anymore.” You grinned at your boyfriend and how his face lit up at your remark.
“Really?”
You nodded, “Now that she knows and still didn’t say anything, there’s no risk. No kissing me during rehearsals, though.” You clarified.
Shotaro frowned, “I wouldn’t be that unprofessional. I’ll only kiss you when there’s no one else around.” He smiled, leaning in to press a quick peck to your lips just to prove his point.
Your lips formed a loving smile, thankful that you were able to stay next to Shotaro, both onstage and off.
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