Gonna Post A Controversial Take Alright Are Y’all Ready??

the moon kissing the mountain, leaving stars in its wake

a bit dirty - ch6

in which you hook up with osamu in a club bathroom and that's just the beginning. prev | ch6 [masterlist]

// a really great idea ~ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ~ 7392 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni nsfw, squirting, sex in a bed!!, a lot of feelings and love!!!!, intimacy in more than just the bedroom fr, names names names pet names a million pet names, oral f!receiving, afab she/her pronouns

tori talks: oh good god guys we're finally here. thanks to everyone who is going to read this last chapter even though it literally took me over 6 months to write it. i hope you enjoy it and i'm glad it's over and that it happened. ily all. hope u enjoy. ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

you’re not sure you’d admit it to anyone, but walking into osamu’s apartment for the first time feels like coming home after a long day at work. you can see yourself here, more than you can in your own apartment or your childhood home. you feel just a little bit more like yourself, shoulders relaxing in a way that you didn’t think they needed to, breath a tiny fraction steadier. you’re not sure you’ve felt this comfortable in a really long time. 

you don’t have to ask him where to put your shoes or where to hang your jacket, and he doesn’t take them from you either. he doesn’t put them away for you or tell you to hang them on the hangers in the empty closet down the hall. 

when he unlocks his door and pushes inside, you mimic his motions, placing your shoes gingerly on the rack to the right of the closet between his white sneakers and black work shoes, hanging your jacket on the empty hooks above the spot where you've just retired your shoes. 

stepping deeper into his apartment, he offers a small, “so, welcome,” he says, gesturing to the living room, one hand softly wrapped around yours as he tugs you along. stepping past the barrier of the front door, further into osamu’s space, you don’t feel like a guest here. you just feel like you belong.

“oh my god, it’s so clean in here,” you say, a few paces ahead of him now, but he refuses to break contact, to let go of your fingertips so he walks quickly along with you. 

“well, yea, i’m not really ever home,” he explains, shrugging, as you walk around his living room eyes stopping at the neatly organized coffee table with cork coasters and a yellow hard-covered book titled this book will make you kinder, at the photos on his wall of him and his brother and him and his restaurant and him and suna, at the plants in the window sill and the dustless, dirtless ledge beneath them. 

you shake your head, “no, that’s not true. you come home after work and you’re here before you leave for work, and i’m sure you’re super busy leaving in the morning and super tired when you come home at night, so it’s really impressive that it’s really clean.”

he lets out a half-laugh, a breathy light scoff in the place of a real response. you turn around, looking at him directly with a mischievous look on your face, “unless you cleaned your apartment just for me tonight?”

osamu’s quiet, a very telling silence, a wordless admittance. “oh my god!” you say, hands on your hip, and the slight hold that he has on your fingertips isn’t broken yet, his hand now pressed against your side, fingers curling around your hip as he pulls you a little closer.  

“okay!” he admits, “so i am pretty tidy anyways, but there may have been a few dishes in the sink and the bed might not have been made and the couch cushions didn’t look that good before but-”

you shake your head, clicking your tongue, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you tease, “how presumptuous of you that i would come back here after our date?” 

“i didn’t think we’d just fuck in the bathroom again, baby, what was i supposed to do, you literally said-” he says, trying to explain himself, unstoppable smile on his face as he pulls you even closer to him.

“do you think i’m that kinda girl? to just fuck you on the first date?” you ask, palm flat against his chest now, the other hand snaking up to lazily drape around his neck.

he shakes his head, wrapping his arms around you tight around your arms and shoulders, holding you in place as he laughs so deep that it sends tingles and shivers down your spine and skin. “you’re very funny, y’know that?” he asks, squishing you against his chest as he presses kiss after kiss into the top of your head. 

“you made the bed? fixed the couch cushions? samu, i mean, really, what did you think was going to happen tonight?” you giggle, emphasizing every other word dramatically as you squirm in his tight grasp.

“i mean,” he says, leaning back to look at the warmth on your face, the fluster that lies with it, “you are here, aren’t you? i couldn’t have been that wrong if the cleaning paid off.”

you giggle harder now, leaning up and pressing a kiss into wherever you can reach in his strong hold. “i sure am,” you agree. he loosens his grip, hand falling down your arm to thread his fingers with yours again. he pecks a small kiss against your lips and then your cheek. 

“you sure are,” he says, warmly. 

you really could’ve stayed in the middle of his living room forever surrounded by couches and books on shelves and an impressive entertainment system. you didn’t need any of it either, didn’t need a place to sit or things to keep you busy, you’d be really happy just staring at osamu for the rest of time, at hearing him laugh, at feeling his pulse in your palm.  

“can i getcha a drink?” he asks, pulling you out of this mellow, love-struck state in the name of hospitality. 

“only if i can come with you,” you say, looking over his shoulder into the kitchen. your motivation is 70% wanting to stay with osamu and 30% wanting to see what his kitchen looks like: what kind of mugs he has, where he keeps his silverware, if his knives and pans are on display or tucked away in cabinets.

“clingy,” he teases, smile huge because there wasn’t any way that he was leaving you alone for even a second. 

“fine! i'll stay in here,” you pout. 

he doesn’t respond, only laughs and pulls you by the hand, “come on, pretty.”

you don’t protest anymore, following along happily into the kitchen, forcing yourself to sit on the barstool in front of the bar rather than snoop in his cupboards and drawers. he’s hesitant to let his touch fall from yours, to let go of the contact he has on your hand and your hip, but he does, presses a small kiss into the side of your head, and walks deeper into his kitchen.

from here you can see the kettle on the counter and the knives on a metallic strip above the black countertop. the pans are nowhere to be seen. they must be hidden away somewhere safe. you don’t say anything and neither does he as he pulls wine glasses and mugs and cups out of the cupboard and places them on the countertop in front of you. 

and you still don’t feel like a guest. 

it feels like osamu getting you a drink is because he loves you, like you could get up and get your own if you wanted to, like you already knew where the tea bags were and the spoons and the shelf that the sugar resided, like next time you would return the favor, let him sit down for a minute while you made the two of you tea or poured another glass of wine. 

“what’s it gonna be?” he asks, gesturing to your choices on the bar in front of you.

“y’know you could’ve just asked me that before pulling out all the cups?” you tease, eyes moving from cup to mug to wine glass. 

he shrugs, “not as visual.”

“what are you in the mood for?” you ask, reaching to pick up the mug, black ceramic with a gray stripe along the base. you turn it over in your hand, running your fingers along the matte texture. yeah, this feels like a mug osamu would own. 

“anything, really,” he says, smiling before the rest of the flirt even comes out of his mouth, “as long as i’m drinking it with you on my couch, i will be very happy.”

you roll your eyes. it’s really unfair how predictable, yet how adorable, he is when it comes to things like that. “alright, how about wine now, tea later?” you ask.

he rests both of his hands on the edge of the counter for a moment, nodding as he does, removing the cups from the counter and pushing the mugs towards the tea kettle. “sounds like a plan, angel,” he says, disappearing behind the pantry door and coming back with a bottle of wine. 

he doesn’t recork the wine or put the bottle back, leaves it exactly where he sets it on the counter in a rush to just drink wine on his couch with you. he carries your glass for you as he guides you back to the couch. 

sitting on the plush, perfectly set cushions, tucking yourself into the corner against the arm rest, osamu pressed up against you, pulling your legs over the tops of his, his hand resting comfortably on your calf, you’re not sure you’ll ever really be ready to go back to your own cold, lonely apartment. when you close your eyes, you can see this moment next week and next month and three years from now. 

your first glass of wine isn’t even finished before he interrupts your current conversation of favorite movies and media with a stupidly cute, nervous question, “so, can i ask you now?” 

you want to be stunned or at least fake it, but you can only lean closer into him, setting your wine glass down on the coaster on the coffee table to wrap both of your arms around his bicep. “ask me what?” you tease.

he shakes his head, “y’know that night i thought you were so out of my league.”

you lean backwards, mouth agape, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, “no fucking way.”

“swear,” he laughs, leaning forward to set his glass down next to yours, “and i was out of my depth, had no idea what i was doing, just couldn’t stop staring at you-”

“oh, i know,” you say, recalling his smitten, lingering stare so perfectly that your face feels warm, “every time i would look over in your direction you would be looking at me like this.” you mimic your recollection as best as you can.

he puts his face in his hands. “that’s so embarrassing,” he says, and it’s muffled by his palms. you wrap your hands around his wrists, pulling them away from his face and kissing the backs of them.

“no, no, it was cute,” you say, but he still groans. you continue, “samu, i was into it, obviously.”

he explains further, “sumu was like shoving me over there so blatantly that i almost didn’t go over there.” he shakes his head at the memory, at the alternate universe where his stupid brother alone failed to start the best chain of events of his life. “and then omi leaned over to me and was like, ‘i'll distract your dumbass brother, go have a good night, you deserve it.’” 

“remind me to thank him then,” you say, softly, shifting against the couch to lean against his shoulder instead of the armrest. 

“will do,” he says, smile in his voice as he snakes his arm around your waist, hand resting on the side of your thigh. “i’ve thanked him plenty for both of us, but it might mean more coming from a new mouth.”

“you just say the most romantic things like it’s nothing,” you say.

“i don’t try,” he admits, “just hard not to be romantic when i’m with you.” he reaches across you with his other arm, pulls you further into his lap until both of your knees are on either side of his thighs and you’re facing him. “sorry,” he mumbles, “wanted to look at ya.”

“you’ve gotta be doing this on purpose,” you whisper. 

his fingers scrape against the tops of your tights before rooting on your hips. he shakes his head. “it’s all you, really,” he whispers back. “these thoughts just come into my mind and i say them. love you so much, you make it easy.”

you’re very grateful for this position because it’s effortless to lean down and crash your lips into his, to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him deeper into the kiss, to feel his chest lift to kiss you harder. he tastes like expensive wine and a little bit like you still and you might cry, he’s just really perfect. 

he places his hand on your shoulder, holds you in place as he leans back into the couch. the pout is already forming on your lip, so he runs his thumb across it gently. “will you be mine?” he asks, adding before you’ve even answered, “let me love you with labels.”

“oh my god, samu, you’re going to kill me, y’know that?” you say, hands cupping both of his cheeks before kissing him sweetly. “how do you expect me to keep up with this?”

“just say yes,” he says, quickly, “that’s enough for me.”

“of course,” you say, forehead resting gently against his, kiss placed on his nose and then the high of his cheekbone. you repeat it again just in case he missed it the first time, “of course.”

“i’m sorry that i didn’t make this happen sooner,” he says, soft sigh accompanying his remorseful tone.

“stop that,” you hush him.

“i mean it,” he says, sitting up into you a bit more, “if i would’ve figured my shit out sooner, we could’ve been doing this for months.”

“yeah, but you don’t know if everything would’ve turned out the same way,” you say, bringing your hands up into his hair, “if that would’ve been too soon or if we needed to go through all we went through to be as strong as we are now, there’s no way to know, really.”

he smiles at you, not opening his mouth to say anything, just soaking in the moment, humming at your astute thought. you continue, “i guess i just mean that, yea, getting more time with you would’ve been great, but we can’t do anything about that. so i’m just really glad to be with you now, here, drinking wine and sitting in your lap and kissing you.”

“and you say i’m the romantic,” he murmurs, kissing you once more. 

“you are,” you argue. 

/\ /\ /\

neither of you even finish your first glass of wine. even if you had, there was no way the two of you were untangling from each other and making your way into the kitchen for another, not in the middle of unimportance conversations about your thoughts on christmas lights or osamu’s thoughts on the type of pet he’d like to have one day. 

but as the hours tick on, as the clock hands droop lower and lower, osamu knows that you need some sort of transition period to staying the night. “cup of tea before we go to bed?” he asks, head resting against the back cushion of the couch staring into your eyes with as much love as he can.

“are you being presumptuous again, samu?” you tease, but your eyelids are getting heavier and you can’t put a lot of effort into the taunting. 

“i’m sorry, princess, do you want to stay the night?” he asks, gut-wrenchingly sincere. 

“i would really love that, yea,” you say, flustered in the backfiring of your banter, “and tea sounds really nice too.” 

he nods, once, short and happy, ready to move you off of his lap to go get the two of you a final drink before bed, but you get off of him first. “i’ll get it,” you offer, waiting with bated breath for him to fight you on it or to be weirded out by the forwardness of raiding his kitchen to feel the domesticity a little harder.  

he doesn’t protest at all, lets the smitten, lingering stare last for a few moments before saying, “only if i can come with you.”

before you’ve made it to the kitchen with osamu in tow, he stops you, plants in place in front of the hallway to his bedroom, and nods towards it. “but first, can we get you into some comfier clothes?” he asks. “nighttime tea tastes better when you’re in comfy clothes,” he reasons. you can’t disagree. 

you follow him down the hall to his room. you don’t get a good look at his plainly decorated room or the nicely made bed as you wait in the doorway. he returns quickly with a t-shirt of his. “you can change in the bathroom across the hall if you want,” he offers.

“you know you were inside of me in a fancy restaurant bathroom hours ago, right?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, pushing past him into his room and taking off all of your date clothes. osamu folds them neatly as you set them on the bed. when he picks up your torn tights, he can’t hold back his small laugh. 

“oh yea, so funny,” you joke, “you can probably throw those away.”

“but they’re perfectly good for having sex in public bathrooms,” he jokes back. 

you pull his shirt over your head, soft cotton taking the place of going out clothes and the difference is already lulling you to sleep. you’re determined to make osamu tea, but you can’t promise most of the cup won’t go cold on the counter.

it doesn’t take long for osamu to be on you, arms wrapped around your waist, hands roaming over your body, “you look so good right now.”

“shut up,” you say, pushing him away with the least amount of resolve anyone has ever had, “imagine how i feel looking at you wearing stuff like this.”

“you look better in it than i do,” he says, shaking his head. 

“not possible,” you say back.

he leans down to kiss you once before reluctantly pulling away, walking back over to his dresser to change into comfier clothes as well. if you weren’t so stupidly tired, seeing osamu shirtless and in super casual sweatpants would’ve been the perfect catalyst for your first night together having sex in a bed.

tea. sleep. tea. sleep. tea. sleep. you remind yourself.

“c’mon, angel,” he coaxes, pulling you by your hand back down the hallway and into the kitchen. he leans against the countertop, doesn’t say another word or try to make you tea despite your earlier statement. 

you start the kettle with the push of a button, pull the mugs from across the counter in front of you. you pluck two tea bags from the glass jar where they live. you have to open a few cupboards before finding the spoons, but the sugar is right where you think it will be. 

“i think knowing that you take sugar in your tea is both the most surprising thing and also somehow completely aligns with who you are,” you reason, pouring the gently boiling water over the tea bags. by the time you finish your sentence, you’ve noticed the enamored look on his face, but you don’t have time to comment on it as he replies. 

“that’s because you know me really well,” he says, nodding, loving smile still lingering. you put half of a spoonful of sugar into the cup, stir until it dissolves and then slid it against the countertop to him. he wraps his fingers around the warm cup, brings it to his lips, blows on it gently as if that’s going to do anything at all, and then takes the smallest sip. “perfect.”

you lean against the edge of the counter, holding the mug in your hands, waiting for the air to cool down the steaming beverage. “i think i’d be really okay with ending every single day of my life just like this,” you admit. if his eyes go wide or he recoils even the smallest percentage, you’ll blame it on the eventful day and the exhaustion that’s quickly overcoming you, but they don’t. his features soften, hand reaches across the counter to rub the back of your hand. 

“me too,” he reciprocates. “you’ll have to stay over more often,” he doubles down. 

“what?” you ask, taking a sip of your tea. you can feel the warmth hit your stomach. “have dinner ready for you when you come home and spend your nights off intertwined on the couch?” everything that you’re saying is getting closer and closer to practically asking to move in, but osamu doesn’t seem to mind. 

“exactly that,” he murmurs, “you’ll have to see if you like my bed first, though, before you resign yourself to coming over every night.”

“every night?” you ask, cheeky smile the only form of teasing that you’re giving right now, “maybe we should go check it out then.” you take one more sip of your tea and then set the cup down on the counter. osamu doesn’t even do that, pulls you away from behind the counter and down the hall. 

you climb into his bed, under his covers without asking or another mention. osamu joins you, climbing into the other side, and the two of you don’t waste a single second, curling up against each other, limbs lazily tangling, pressing up against one another as close as you possibly can. 

“the first time we’re in a bed together and we’re not even having sex,” he says, softly, reaching over and turning off his bedside light. it takes a few moments for your eyes to get adjusted, to make out the shapes of his face in the dark. 

“crazy, right?” you ask, smiling as you snuggling into his chest impossibly closer. 

“i like this though,” he admits, traces his fingers up and down your arms, “just being in bed with you, falling asleep with you, means i get to wake up with you.”

you hum at his voice, soft and deep, and the darkness looks the same as it does with shut eyes, but you’re trying your best to not let the sleep take you that fast. “can you keep me awake?” you ask.

“you’re literally falling asleep as we speak,” he says, your eyelids fluttering shut as if to make a point. you shake your head, but you don’t say anything else. “why do you want me to keep you awake, babygirl?”

“cause i wanna be in this moment a little while longer,” you reason, breath taking over your voice as the darkness and warmth pull you into a comforting hug.

“we’ll have plenty of time for moments like this later,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “plenty of time, so go to sleep, angel.”

you’re not even embarrassed at how quickly you listen to him.

/\ /\ /\

if last night wasn’t enough to convince you that you were exactly where you needed to be for the rest of your life, waking up in osamu’s arms definitely was. they’re strong around you, wrapped tightly around your waist, nose nuzzled into the back of your neck, legs intertwined with yours. 

you’re incredibly surprised that you’ve woken up first, but the second that you start to stir, osamu’s grip loosens, and his head peaks over your shoulder and he places a small kiss on your cheek. “mornin’,” he says, raspy as he talks off the sleep. 

you turn in his arms, laying flat on your back so you can look at him directly. “good morning,” you say back, lifting your head to kiss him. “very good morning,” you say again. 

“cute,” he murmurs against your lips, “stupidly cute.” you reach your arms up, draping them over his neck loosely to pull him down into you. “do you want breakfast or something?” he asks.

you shake your head, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “no,” you say, “well, maybe later? i think right now i just want, y’know, this.” you gesture with a small nod not really towards anything in particular, just to the situation.

he laughs, kissing the side of your face, “alright, this it is.”

you don’t say much else. nor does he. it’s all stolen kisses and roaming touches and silent exchanges. you don’t feel the need to talk, don’t have much to say, you’re communicating just fine without them. 

every touch is getting needier, every kiss is getting longer, sloppier, more desperate, and the only thing that you’ve been able to think about for the last hour is all of the promises that have been made to you about after date things. 

it doesn’t help that he’s on top of you now, tops of his thighs resting between your legs, hands on either side of your waist just looking at you like that. the first thing you say in over an hour is, “what, samu?”  

he laughs, pushing his fingertips up your body, under the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and up until your entire stomach is exposed. “god, you’re so hot,” he says, grabbing onto your waist to pull you closer to him. 

“samu,” you whine. 

“what, doll? it’s true,” he says, pushing your shirt up even further now, tits on display so pretty that you can feel him begin to grow hard against your inner thigh. “so pretty,” he murmurs. he tugs your shirt off, tosses it to the side with no regard for the tidiness of his room anymore. 

you’ve really never been this exposed before when you’ve had sex with osamu, always an article of clothes on, but now the only thing stopping you from being completely naked is the thin fabric of your panties and osamu’s fingers are already hooked in the waistband. you don’t protest as he drags them down your thighs, picks up your legs and rests them on his shoulder as he does. 

he presses a kiss into the side of your leg, slowly drops them back around him. your stomach is in knots, can barely breathe with the way that he’s looking at you, eyes traveling down your body so slowly that you can see each point that they linger a second longer.

“fuck, you look good,” osamu says, leaning down to kiss your shoulders, your collarbones, your chest.

“shut up,” you murmur, fingers threading into his hair, scratching against the back of his head as he scrapes his teeth against your sensitive skin.

“no, i’m serious,” he says, leaning back, “you’re so fucking pretty, gorgeous actually.”

“ew, shut up,” you push him away jokingly, gently, “or i’m not going to let you fuck me unless we’re fully clothed ever again,” you joke.

he laughs against your neck, breath and vibrations tickling the wet skin. every single kiss feels personal, hand-crafted and perfectly thought of just for you. the placement is direct and purposeful and you can feel his love in every single one. 

“god, i’m going to take my time with you,” he says, pulling away again. you can feel the blush blooming under your skin, warming up every inch of you, igniting fires in your stomach.

“first time that we have a lot of it,” you joke, coaxing him back up to your lips. “and first time that i don’t have to be situated on a sink or the floor.”

“so you’ll be perfectly comfortable,” he says, kisses trailing between your tits and down your stomach, “while i eat you all morning long.”

“samu,” you say, crook of your elbow rising up to your face to hide behind it. he reaches up, pulls it away from your face. 

“don’t hide from me, doll, look so cute like that,” he says, laying between your thighs, pushing them open with familiar hands. you give in to the gentle pressure so easily that you swear you hear the faintest laugh coming from Osamu, but the light kisses peppering your thighs that follow gain your focus instantly. 

it should feel agonizing, the way he takes his time dragging his lips across every part of the skin between your legs, kissing and biting lightly. but the longer he’s there the more laughter flutters through your chest, the more your cheeks flush, the more loved you feel. you bring your hands to his face as he rests his head against your knee cupping one under his jaw and using the other to push his hair back a little. 

“make me feel so pretty, samu,” you mumble. he makes no attempt to answer, just holds your gaze with loving eyes as he brings himself to ghost near your already soaked pussy, the feeling his breath overwhelming any of your other senses. 

“just want you to see yourself through my eyes, princess.” the end of his sentence comes with a long, slow swipe of his tongue against your hyper sensitive clit and it feels good to finally not worry about who can hear you. 

you dig your head back into the pillow, hair already a mess after a perfectly restful night’s sleep. you can feel his eyes burning into you, even if you can’t see them, even if your focus is really anywhere but the agonizing feather-like touches between your legs.  

it’s a shame, you think, but only for a moment, that his mouth is so busy that you can’t hear him call you pretty names or poke fun at you for whining so much. only for a moment. 

if there’s one thing that osamu cannot be called it’s all-or-nothing. osamu doesn’t do all-or-nothing; he does slowly, consistently, comfortably, and then all. this is no exception. he runs his tongue between your puffy lips, smears your juices all over your sensitive pussy with the tip, and then he eats you- not like a man-starved, but like a man who he gets to indulge in his favorite dessert. 

his fingertips are digging into the fat of your hips, palms pressing to keep you in place, to keep you from squirming, and it’s working. he lets you scratch your nails into his hair, down the back of his neck, resting on the tops of his shoulders. you don’t guide him, don’t buck your hips impatiently, you don’t need to. if he isn’t lapping exactly where you want him to, you know he will be soon, you know it’s deliberate, you know that he knows what’s best for you even if you have to wait for it. 

you’re not sure you know how many times you come on his tongue, how many are attributed to just his tongue and how many are attributed to the noises that he’s making, the grunts that are coming from his throat, the mumbled praises that he’s whispering against your soaked folds, the squeaking of the mattress from the soft grinding that he’s doing against the blankets. 

without a watch, you’d have claimed you were there for hours, all morning, just like he said. you’re not sure if he would’ve stopped either, if you hadn’t sat up on your forearm, somehow more out of breath than he was, and tugged on his hair. “samu, baby,” you whine. 

you can’t help it, the even-more-breathless-breathlessness that hits you when he looks into your eyes, bottom of his face soaked with you, licks his lips, wipes the rest of it with his palm, and crawls slowly up to meet you. he kisses you hard, as hard as you’ll let him, and then he kisses you again, and then he kisses your cheek, and then your jaw, then your neck, mumbles against your skin, “what do you want now, bunny?” he’ll give you anything. “i’ll give you anything.” you know that he will. 

the opportunities are endless. the world is your oyster. anything that you ask for, he will give you, and it will be wrapped with neat paper and a pretty bow with a handwritten note several miles long. you swallow, eyes searching his face for nothing in particular, just because he’s pretty and because he’s yours. 

“i don’t think i have anything to ask for, because you’re already mine,” you whisper.

his face lights up, skin hot and flushed on the highs of his cheeks and traveling down his neck and chest. for a second it looks like he short-circuits, like you’ve broken him just by telling him the truth, and then, in a second, the world catches back up to him. 

he shakes his head slowly and then you’re on top of him, sat with both legs on either sides of his, strong hands steadying you before you can even clock that you need to be steadied. “you’re really asking for it, huh?” he asks, and now you’re feeling warm.

“i- what are you talking about, samu,” you say, eyebrows furrowed. you can feel his hips- and yourself- lift off the bed as the fabric between the backs of your thighs and the tops of his is replaced with soft skin. you yelp softly as you’re lowered back down, hands on your inner thighs pushing you back just enough for his cock to rest between them. 

you’re soaking wet, making a mess between your lips and on the insides of your legs and now all over his hard cock, slowly pushing through your pressed together thighs. he brings his hips off the bed, steady thrusts rocking the mattress ever so slightly, both his hands squeezing the outsides of your thighs. he clicks his tongue, “saying shit like that, angel, you know i’m not going to be able to help myself.”

“samu,” you repeat, breathless. “what ar-.”

he cuts you off, sliding his thumb from the tip of his cock to the base, his leaking head slipping between your messy lips until it’s teasing your hole. “sound so in love with me, baby, need to fucking feel you around me so fucking bad right now,” he breathes, sharp inhale punctuating his sentence as he pulls you by your hips until you’re fully seated on his cock. 

you don’t know if the warmth is coming from the blush or touch of his skin or the desire that’s burning in your core, but it’s there, and before you can even fully register what he’s saying, he’s honest-to-god whimpering, spouting more lovey bullshit, “god, it’s like falling in love with you made you fit even more perfectly around me.” he lifts you slightly, fingers digging into your hips as he lets you slowly fall back down onto his cock. 

he tilts his head into the pillow, but immediately picks it back up, locking eyes with you before letting his gaze fall down your body, like he can’t believe you really exist, like he can’t believe he let himself relax into a position where he couldn’t see you at all times, like he “can’t believe you’re fucking real,” he grunts, “and that you’re all fucking mine.”

“osamu, if you don’t knock it off,” you say. you’re only half-joking. you’re not sure that you could take him talking to you like this for much longer. you feel so full, every part of you feels so full. you slide your hands down his chest, palm against his rapidly beating heart acting as leverage as you start moving in time with him.

you close your eyes, partially to focus on the parts of you that are on fire right now, and partially so that you don’t have to keep looking at how much osamu is looking at you. he can’t keep his hands off of you, can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“can’t help it, pretty, not when i get to savor it like this,” he says, brings his chest up and wraps his arms around your back, holding you securely to him. he kisses the side of your face, whispers in your ear, “not when i finally get to fuck you in my bed and tell you that i love you and see you- all of you.” 

“are you trying to make me cry or something?” you ask, placing both of your hands on either side of his face, forcing his attention on just your eyes and the hints of shyness strewn all over your face. 

a slight smirk is followed by raised eyebrows and a tiny kiss to the temple. osamu flips you over, lying you gently on your back while you’re still fully encompassing him. “that can be arranged, puppy,” he says, kissing down your neck, nipping at your shoulders and chest. he slams his hips into you and you can’t help the pleasured, high-pitched moan that comes as a result. in fact, you can’t help the ones that come one after another after another as he keeps snapping his hips, insides of your thighs growing raw from the impact.

you’re babbling at this point, a symphony of half-finished words and tiny whimpers, and when a single tear breaks free of your blurred waterline, osamu can’t hold back. “fuck, holy fuck, babygirl, you sound so good, don’t stop, princess, keep making those cute fucking noises, fuck, sound so good.” 

you shake your head no and hope that he understands what it means, that you won’t stop as long as he doesn’t. you’ll cry and scream and make cute little noises for him forever if he never pulls out of you. 

you’ve always known that fucking in bathrooms has been disadvantageous, you just couldn’t pinpoint it, not when it always felt so good anyway. you never thought the space bothered you or the hard, cold various materials of sinks or the fact that people were often only a door away; you never thought any of that mattered until now, now when you can cry for him and feel the softness of the blankets beneath you and the plushness of the pillow behind your head.

“baby,” you cry, “i’m- you’re gonna- fuck, i love you so much. i’m-.” you throw your head back, you can’t finish your half-constructed sentence before osamu is fucking you faster, harder, wrapping an arm around your lower back and lifting you up the slightest bit to angle you perfectly. your hand moves on instinct, reaches down between your legs and circles your throbbing clit for only a second before you’re squirting all over him, a release of pressure drenching him as you gasp for air, drawing in enough breath to cry out his name.

you place your hand on his lower abs, eyes closing softly to center yourself. you could’ve passed out right here, slept for a million years, and you’re not sure you would’ve completely recovered. your body is shaking, throat is sore, and when you open your eyes, osamu is looking at you with such adoration and awe that you’re certain you’ve missed something. 

“the first time we’re not in a fucking bathroom and you fucking make me squirt,” you mumble, shaking your head, “what are we going to do with you?” you ask, removing your hand from his stomach, silently letting him know you’ve recovered enough for him to keep going. 

“i don’t care,” he says, kissing your jaw, “i don’t care what you do with me for the rest of my life, that was the most amazing thing i’ve ever seen.”

“you made a mess,” you tease.

“i made a mess?” he asks.

you nod. 

he breathes a laugh before accepting responsibility, “i made a mess,” he confirms. 

“so you’ve gotta do one thing for me,” you say, circling your hips, matching his lazy thrusts as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“anything,” he says. and you know that he means it. 

you use your loose grip around his neck to coax him closer to you, your lips now pressed against his ear. “need you to make a mess inside of me, samu, please,” you say, low enough to send shivers down his spine from the tone alone. his hips stutter. he wants to regain composure, to not give in to blowing his load deep inside of you just from you saying his name and asking him nicely, he really wants to savor it and last a little bit longer. 

but you’re so wet. you’re drenched, but you’re still so tight and sucking him in so nicely, perfectly sculpted for him, gummy walls still clenching and fluttering from your orgasm, and you kiss the skin right below his ear and you say, “please, i’ve been waiting for it ever since i fucking met you, please, don’t make me wait any longer.”

and he can’t. 

he wouldn’t.

he doesn’t.

he snaps his hips forwards, pressing himself flush against the insides of your thighs and releases deep inside of you. you can feel his cock pulse with each stream, feel yourself getting fuller and fuller and fuller with each throb and accompanying grunt. you can’t get enough. you don’t want it to ever stop, but it does. he keeps himself deep inside of you for a moment, not wanting to lose the feeling just as much as you don’t. 

when he starts to get soft, he pulls out, come dripping out of your hole and onto the blankets below just adding to the mess the two of you have created in the span of a few hours. he doesn’t exactly know where to go, what to do. the two of you could’ve passed out just like this, intertwined together and had the most incredible sleep of your entire life, if it weren’t for the huge mess beneath you. 

“what now?” you mumble, not moving. 

you feel osamu flop next to you. you’re not sure if he’s avoided the mess or if he’s embraced it. part of you wants to stand up and apologize and start throwing his bedspread in the washer, but that part of you isn’t winning, not today. if that part of osamu exists, it’s not winning either. he wraps his arms around your waist, rests his head on your chest, pulls you into him. 

“are we just going to lay in this?” you say, laughing. it sounds ridiculous coming out of your mouth, but you’re sure it wouldn’t take much convincing for you to not have to move from this very spot. osamu doesn’t answer you, but you feel him unwrap from your body and then get off the bed. you go to sit up, but you don’t make it that far, opening your eyes as osamu pulls the blankets out from under you and throws them in a heap in the corner of his tidy room. he opens the closet door and comes back with a spare, small, but clean blanket. 

he reassumes his position on the now-much-more-acceptable bed, throwing the blanket overtop of you and him and cuddling into your side. “is that better?” he asks, but he doesn’t really expect a response. your small smile and content hum is all he needs. 

after only a few moments, recuperated by a clean blanket and strong arms, your body is ready to move onto the next thing, ready to get up and start making breakfast or start kissing him again or start getting ready for work despite how long you have until your shift. your skin is antsy, pulse is quickening. there are a trillion things in your head that you want to do with osamu, plenty of dull activities that seem like they’ll be much better with him by your side. you want to see them. you want to do them.

osamu shifts and pulls you into his chest, kisses the top of your head. “love you, angel,” he murmurs into your hair. “love you so much,” he says again. you feel calmer now, the most at ease you’ve ever been, because you know that there’ll be time for all of that, plenty of time, hours and hours of time to do all of the things that you want to do with osamu, more time than you know what to do with, you just know it.

for now, all you have to do is lay here, in bed, surrounded by warmth in more ways that you thought were possible, maybe let sleep take you again or stay awake in these passing moments, it doesn’t really matter. your exhale is steady, matches with his. you close your eyes and you can see this moment next week and next month and three years from now. 

you look happy there. 

you look really happy there.

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♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

tori talks more: i do not know if i'll be around to write more to be honest with you. like i probably will at some point, but who knows. maybe when the new movie comes out. maybe ill do a jjk pivot bc i just finished it. feel free to scream in my inbox abt it or this or whatever. ily all and im so glad i could finally finish this. <3 :)

Day 6: Yamaguchi

Warnings: Dry humping

It’s not that Yamaguchi didn’t want to participate in the months challenge, it’s just that he knew he wouldn’t make it far; not even far enough to be proud of the attempt. You told him you’d be supportive, wouldn’t try anything to mess him up, but he was adamant about his decision. And you respected that, so you kept track of how long it took him to break on his own in your mind. It didn’t take long, but it was longer than you had anticipated.

You had been lounging on the couch all day, binging a show on your off day, when he entered through the front door. A wide, adorable smile on his face at the sight of his pretty girlfriend in the living room, having that be the first thing he sees when coming home is his favorite part of any day. “Hi, honey,” he kicked his shoes off and made his way over to where you were sprawled out. You flipped over onto your back and moved your legs apart enough for him to slip between and rest on top of you, his arms wrapping around your waist, your fingers brushing through his soft hair, “what did you get up to all day?”

“Just been glued to the couch, waiting for you to come home,” you smiled as he looked up at you. Home. Something flipped inside of him at that word falling from your lips so gracefully; so right. His arms tightened around you as he buried his face in your tummy, his lips pressing light kisses on the areas where your skin was exposed, timidly trailing down to the waistband of your sweatpants. “‘Dashi?” voice coming out in a whimper, eyes closing from the sudden sexual air in the room.

Tadashi hummed against your skin, his fingers dancing their way up your shirt, thumbs brushing lightly against your nipples, “yeah, honey?” He nipped at your hips when he came face to face with them. You could only respond with needy sounds, hands gripping his hair as he slid your sweats down your legs, his lips following and kissing the newly exposed skin. “You look very pretty today.”

His compliment sent goosebumps to litter your bare arms and legs, pulling his face up to kiss him desperately after he pulled your sweats off and discarded his own. Your mouths collide, tongues immediately making contact, your hips raise up to roll against the growing bulge in his boxers.

“‘m just in normal clothes,” you pant against his mouth, chin lifting up to chase his lips as he pulls away. Tadashi nips at your jaw, needily grinding his crotch into your clothed heat; already feeling your panties stick to your wet folds.

He hummed in response, followed by a muffled whimper when his aching cock pressed harshly against you. It became clear that he wasn’t planning on fucking you just yet; he made no move to slide your panties to the side, to shove his boxers down and sink into your drooling pussy. He seemed to be content with rocking his hips into yours, content with dry humping you until he was spilling into his boxers.

“Don’t- don’t wanna stop,” his whimpers made your cunt clench around nothing, your hands releasing his face to grip his shoulders; you needed him closer, invading your space.

Within a few minutes, his hips were stuttering and shaking, the pleasure overwhelming him to the point of star filled vision and toes curling in his socks. “I-I’m- ngh, honey.”

Soft reassurance and your own rocking hips sent his mind spiraling, his face flushed and dripping sweat as he let go; just as you had softly asked him to. You could feel his boxers dampen warmly as he rode out his release, slowing his grinding and nuzzling his face in your collarbone.

A gentle smile graced your lips, kissing the side of his head and rubbing his back, “needy baby, you feel better?” you cooed once his hips stilled, laying his full weight on top of you. You were met with a nod, a hum, and a gentle kiss.

hehehehehehhe

yams!

I have put them in a situation (gay ppl come get ur little knight/prince au pspsps)

not fair - ch5

in which your boyfriend is perfect in every single way... except for one and kei can't just sit back and watch you suffer...

previous | ch5 | next (coming soon) [masterlist]

// "don’t question me again or i’ll leave." ~ ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ʏᴀᴍᴀɢᴜᴄʜɪ ᴛᴀᴅᴀsʜɪ ~ 8656 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter/tw: 18+ minors dni super nfsw!, cheating (seriously, major plot point), threesome, vouyerism, size kink, weird feelings, use of character first names, degradation, oral f!receive, dom/sub undertones, coming untouched, stop light system, dirty talk, name calling, coming twice, plot-heavy, pegging, cross posted from ao3, afab reader she/her pronouns

join my taglist here!! ~~ (one more chapter left?!?!?!) ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

It’s one of those phone calls that you hope goes to voicemail. 

Hey, Tadashi, just wanted to let you know that Kei and I were coming to get the car and boxes tomorrow. Sorry it’s been there for so long. That’s all it had to be. You’re repeating it in your head, waiting for the polite message and tone to come. 

It doesn’t.

You don’t remember what Tadashi says when he answers the phone, don’t even know if he said anything at all. You pull the phone away from your ear, making sure that he didn’t answer and hang up or that the space between the rings isn’t just skipping. The numbers are counting up, seemingly slower than seconds typically pass by. 

“Hey, Tadashi,” you start. You should have practiced or wrote a script or something, because any words, phrases, questions in your mind are gone now, leaving Tadashi to pick up the pieces once again.

If it weren’t for the tiny breath from the otherside of the phone, you might’ve hung up waiting for a response. He mutters your name first, practically lost by the hestiance and heaviness of the word. “Are you calling about coming to pick up your car?”

“Right, yea, I’m so sorry we left it there and haven’t, uh, been back to get it. We kinda just wanted to give you time because of everything and didn’t want to, yknow, rush anything or give you any trouble or-” you’re rambling on, nervous to stop. Kei rests his hand on your lower back just to let you know that he’s there. 

“It’s fine, really, just, are you guys coming to pick it up?” he asks, interrupting your nervous spiel.

“Yes,” you reply, knowing that you have so much more to say, but not ready to say any of it. After being so intimate with him and Kei, you’d think that it would be easier to talk, like everything’s already been out on the table. It’s not until Kei raises his eyebrows, lets his thumb graze under your shirt and against your skin that you actually get the words out. “Do you think we could come in, too?”

Tadashi isn’t stupid. He has to know what you’re implying or, at the very least, know that the two of you want to talk with him. Kei is staring at you, the room is dead silent, and every second that Tadashi doesn’t answer is more confirmation that you’ve just made a fool of yourself. 

You’re about to take it back, to backpedal without remorse in an attempt to salvage civility, but Tadashi clears his throat, unknowingly interrupting you. “Yeah, that would be okay.” 

Almost too stunned to speak, you’re sure that the surprise was written across your face. “O-Okay, yeah.” It’s heavy in your throat, banging at the back of your teeth, you want to ask, clarify, make sure that you’re on the same page, but you also feel like you should quit while you’re ahead. Kei’s confusion turns to understanding when you give him a wide-eyed, short nod. 

“Alright,” Tadashi replies, but still doesn’t hang up. 

Tsukishima doesn’t grab the phone from you, but he talks loud enough for his voice to make it through the receiver. “Like last time?” 

“Like last time,” Tadashi confirms quickly. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, for sure, see you then,” you reply, “Looking forward to it, Dashi.” You can faintly hear the hitch in his breath followed by the low clear of his throat. 

“Me too.” Click.

You bring the phone down from your ear. The weight on your chest isn’t as unbearable with the assumptions off the table. There’s still a lingering force quickening your heartbeat, but at least you can breathe for now. 

“Thanks,” you say, looking up at Kei.

He shrugs. “That’s what I’m here for, bluntness.”

“And doing the hard things that I can’t,” you scoff. 

He bends down, pressing a kiss onto your forehead and pushing your hair out of your face. “Definitely not all the time. It’s probably like half and half,” Kei says and then tilts his head, “Mm, maybe 60/40.”

You nod, “Yeah, but that seems pretty fair to me.” You pull back, wiping your palms on your pants. “I should bring the thing, right?”

“Why else did we buy it?”

“No, I know, I guess I’m just nervous,” you admit.

“No reason to be. You’ll be great and Tadashi will love it, you know that,” Kei reassures you. 

In theory, you did know that. If you really thought about it, you knew that. The evidence backs it up, the reciprocation in excitement backs it up, and yet you can’t help but doubt the ideas that have been swarming your head since that night. 

The entire walk to Tadashi’s feels heavy, steps dragging, bag weighted, Kei’s hand in yours evident. So many thoughts are taking place in your head. You try to rid them, but you can’t. The conversation from that night is on repeat in your mind. Maybe it’s a good thing, maybe it’ll make you more decisive, maybe the repetition will hammer in these clouded thoughts. 

You thought that the first time coming back felt weird, but coming back the second time comes with a mix of eerie comfort and looming taboo. 

It’s a blur, really, Tadashi answering the door, inviting you inside. You remember the small things like taking off your shoes and placing them neatly next to the spot that you used to every single day and when you shake your head no at Tadashi politely asking if you want a glass of water or cup of tea. The rest of it is lost, second to the anticipation and the thought in the back of your mind to book it out the front door.

You are sitting on the couch. Kei is sitting next to you. Somehow everything in your head is talking at once and they’re your thoughts, but you can’t make out a single one. 

You want to just skip to the part of the night that doesn’t feel like this anymore - fidgeting just to calm your nerves, the three of you sitting in a small circle like a meeting with stale coffee, no eye contact, barely allowing yourself to breathe. Kei’s hand hovers over to yours, slowly, trying not to bring attention to itself, not for his sake or even Tadashi’s, but for yours. His grasp wraps around your fidgeting fingers, his intertwining with yours like they were meant to be there. 

In a matter of seconds, you catch Tadashi’s eyes as they flicker from the intertwined hands in your lap to your eyes back to your hands and then down at his own. You can’t get a long enough look at his face to see the emotion, but you don’t really need a long look to tell you that Tadashi is feeling more nervous than you are now, as if that’s even possible.

How hard would this have been without Kei sitting here right next to you? Without Kei throughout this entire process? Tadashi doesn’t have that, doesn’t get the sweet hand hold or the supportive presence. He deserves it, though. 

You take the first step, hands shaking, breath unsteady as you stand up and move towards Tadashi. You don’t know what to say once you are right in front of him, so you opt for silence. Instead, you take this time to regulate your breathing and focus on the emotions in Tadashi’s face that you couldn’t find before.

All of the doubt that you had last night (and a few seconds ago, for that matter) is fading away. Now that he’s sitting here in front of you, now that you can see the soft features on his face, can feel Kei’s assuring presence behind you, can watch the way that Tadashi waits for your next sentence, patient and attentive. Your hand moves slowly as you reach to cup Tadashi’s face, directing his attention and testing the waters. 

Banging against your sternum, your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest. It doesn’t calm on contact or when Tadashi leans into the touch ever so slightly and it gets much worse when the words tumble out of your mouth. You can’t help them, seeing how pretty Tadashi looks in front of you, getting flashbacks from last week, remembering how good he was for you.

“Can I kiss you?”

You don't know if this sentence takes Kei by surprise, don’t dare to look back or show an ounce of hesitation in front of Tadashi. Besides, at this moment, you’re more concerned about Tadashi, the way you can see the emotions clearly now, but you still can’t read them very well for the sake of how fast they’re changing. But you can read the nod, though slight, of Tadashi’s head after a beat of contemplation. 

The kiss is sweet, warm. You have to bend down a bit more than you’re anticipating, but that only means you get to tilt his head up, bring his lips closer to yours, thumb gently pushing on the underside of his chin, fingers resting against his neck in a way that you can feel his harsh swallow as soon as you pull away. His eyes are wide, struck with something bordering wonderment, and you are drinking it in. 

This has to be exactly what Kei felt like on the night that started it all. 

There’s a surge of confidence for the first time since your last visit, like it’s no longer testing the waters, because you know exactly why the three of you are here. You’re not sure that Tadashi knows, but somehow that makes you feel even more assured, like he’s depending on you to guide him through the night. 

And it really does feel like history repeating itself.

Still, it doesn’t matter how much you see yourself in Tadashi right now and how that means that if he is you then you would be Kei and how you know that if Kei were standing where you’re standing right now, things would unfold a lot differently. Despite the lingering pressure of this new role you’re embodying, you have to ask.

It comes out sweet, warm like the kiss you shared moments ago. “You’re okay with all of this?”

Tadashi’s nod is a touch more certain than the previous, but you follow it up nonetheless. “And it’s alright that I don’t keep asking if it’s alright?” you ask. He nods again. “If something is getting too much or you’re starting to feel uncomfortable, just say yellow.” God, saying it aloud brings you back. You remember that Kei had started touching you, kissing you at this point, but all you want to do is stare at Tadashi, see the understanding and attention. “If something is too much and you want to stop immediately, then say red and we’ll stop, make sure you’re okay.” 

He nods again, but not one curt nod like the rest of them, more desperate, repetitive, like he wants you to stop talking, not because he doesn’t care, but because he knows what’s ahead and he wants it to come faster. You give in, moving your hand down his shoulder, leaning in to press your lips against his ear. “If you can’t breathe, mouth full, can’t verbally communicate, just 3 nice hard taps against me or Kei and we’ll stop.”

A whimper slips out from between his teeth in lieu of a nod, but you want to hear it in stumbling confirmation. “Understand?” mhm “Say it. Need to hear you say it, Dashi.” 

“Yea- I mean, yea, yes. I understand.”

You stand up straight, towering over top of Tadashi. “I’m in control tonight.” You’re not sure how Kei looks behind you, taller than you, you know that, but you wonder if his height makes you look less in control than you feel. You wonder if his facial expression is making Tadashi doubt your dominance over the situation. You didn’t really talk about this, Kei and you, not in detail, not about power dynamics. Truthfully, if you had, you’re not sure you would be in this position right now.

It’s comfortable for you to be right between Kei and Tadashi in the order of power, but to declare that you’re in control, not just of Tadashi, but just in general, it’s stepping out of your comfort zone. 

“Y-You?” Tadashi asks innocently enough, eyes flitting from you to just behind you where you know that Kei is standing. Part of you, the safe part, wants to quiet down, wait for Kei to answer for you, to either protect you or scoff at the notion. That part of you doesn’t win. 

Rather, you bend down again, eyes level with Tadashi’s. “If that’s a problem, I can leave instead.”

“No, it’s not- I’m not- I didn’t- I’m sorry!” he starts immediately.

“Don’t question me again or I’ll leave,” you repeat. 

“I won’t. I won’t.” Tadashi says, not a promise, but you believe it like one. 

You turn around, look up at Kei. There’s still that voice inside of you looking for his permission, for his approval. You don’t think that will ever go away. This little voice inside of you comes through in the form of a silent question. If it were anyone else on the receiving end you’d think it’d get lost in translation. Am I doing okay?

“What do you want me to do?” Kei asks plainly, unwavering, like it’s not completely left field for him to be asking you for direction. It’s the perfect answer to your question. 

You’re not exactly sure how you’re going to get through this night. You’re exhausted already and you haven’t even really given a command yet. You figure, however, that the best mantra to get you through the night is to just continue to ask for things that you really want. What do you want him to do? 

You go with your first instinct and though your voice isn’t as strong as you want it to be, it feels good leaving your mouth. “I want you to carry me upstairs, want Tadashi to follow. And I want to be placed nicely on the bed.”

Kei moves immediately, hoisting you up and letting you wrap your arms around his neck. There’s no hesitance to just doing what he’s told. You assume, for now at least, that it’s because the tasks aren’t too demanding or degrading. You’ll be waiting for backlash for the rest of the night. 

You don’t have to direct any of the demands to Tadashi. He hears you and he listens, waiting just enough time to give you a breath of space and then following you like a puppy. By the time Tadashi enters the room, Kei is placing you, exactly as you asked, nice and gentle on the bed. 

It’s so much different than normal. Kei is always attentive, always makes sure that you’re taken care of, but it’s so different . His hands follow your body as he lies you down, making sure that there is a cushion of his palm between each inch and the bed as it comes in contact. God, you wish you could feel it on your skin. 

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” Kei asks. You can’t detect any amount of snide smirk or tone, have to take it as sincere despite months and months of experiences screaming in your head. Your stomach is in knots and you want to say yes just because he asked, but making him wait feels like it’ll have a better payoff in the end. 

“Not yet,” you say, low like a whisper. It’s not loud enough for Tadashi to hear, not meant to show your dominance or prove yourself. It’s a moment just for you and Kei. His eyebrows raise and then furrow, a remark starts to bubble, but he shuts it down before it reaches his throat. You don’t know where Tadashi is, but you don’t care either. You’re following your wants, pushing your fingertips through Kei’s blonde locks and making soft fists. “I want you to want it more.”

You let go quickly, as soon as it’s about to elicit a response, and then you press on his shoulders with the heel of your palm, digging your fingernails into the tops just hard enough for him to really feel it . As soon as he’s stood up, standing at the foot of the bed, so familiarly over top of you, you ask, “Aren’t you going to ask me what else I want?”

He swallows the alternative response and asks just that, “What do you want now, (y/n)?”

You hook your fingers into your waistband. Both Kei’s and Tadashi’s eyes follow the movement as you push your shorts and panties down to your ankles. They’re still dangling off of one of your ankles after you maneuver one foot out of one side, spreading your legs apart and realizing just how bold you’re being tonight. 

You hadn’t realized, though, how wet you had gotten from just a few small actions. It was a mix of the newfound control and the way that they were both listening to you so well. It was the possibilities of tonight and how Kei, right now, was about to do whatever came out of your mouth. 

“I want you to eat me out,” you say. You could’ve stopped there, short and sweet, but the words tumble out and you don’t regret them one bit, “Want you to say please and thank you. You don’t do that very often.” Kei’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t talk back.

“And I want Tadashi to watch,” you say to Kei and then turn to face Tadashi, “I want you to watch. Like last time.” You glance down to the small tent in Tadashi’s pants, let your eyes linger as an added explanation. “Just like last time. Do you understand?” Your tone is a mixture, a condescending softness. 

Tadashi lifts his hand, brings it steadily down to his bulge, but hesitates before touching himself through the fabric. “Now?” he asks. 

You give a small laugh, “The show hasn’t even started yet, but yes, if you’re that desperate.” 

You don’t know how quickly Tadashi is to start to touch himself because Kei hooks his arms underneath your legs and pulls your pussy against his mouth in one motion. You keep repeating to yourself that you’re in control. You have to keep reminding yourself or you would, probably instantaneously, slip back into doing whatever Kei wanted you to do.

Actually, even while you’re repeating to yourself that you’re in control, every part of you wants to close your eyes, lay back, and just let Kei do whatever he wants to do, and you know that tonight is all about what you want, but this is a once in a lifetime experience and you’re going to take advantage of it. You grab a fistful of Kei’s hair, pulling his head away from you in a way that surprises both of you.

“Say please.” It’s not nearly as cocky and confident and strong as you want it to be. In fact, it’s followed by an airy laugh from yourself because it’s so out of place. “Kei, baby, say please.”

“Please.” It’s not nearly as pleasing and desperate and appreciative as you want it to be. You cock your head. 

“That doesn’t sound like you really want to eat me out,” you furrow your eyebrows. You tighten your fist in his hair. “So say please.”

His eyes widen and he groans at your harsh grip, “Please, can I eat you out?”

“I still feel like you don’t really want to taste me, baby. I feel like you don’t want to bury your face in between my legs and eat me until I come all over your face.” You’re talking down to him now and the confidence is building in your chest as you watch his facial expressions shift. His mouth is basically watering. “I know you want that, so why don’t you ask really nicely and maybe I’ll let you.”

The pleasing, desperate, appreciative tone that you wanted is there and, with it, a bit of embarrassment to have to ask for something you usually beg for. “I- Please, can I please eat you out? I want to taste you and eat you, please.” His voice is more timid than you’ve ever heard it and it’s making your stomach flutter more than how close he is to you.

“You’re gonna make me come all over your pretty face, aren’t you?” you ask, slowly pulling his face towards your pussy. He’s moving with you, mouth opening as he gets centimeters away, but you stop him. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” he nods, trying to finish the motion and bury his face in between your legs.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I’m going to make you come,” he mumbles. You can see just how much he wants to skip this part, but you’re having so much fun.

“Where am I going to come?” you smirk.

“All over my face,” Kei answers, knowing full well he’s not giving you the answer that you want.

“All… over… your…,” you say slowly, tilting his face upwards to look you directly in the eyes, watching the warmth spread across his features.

“Gonna make you come all over my pretty face,” Kei finally finishes.

“Now say please,” you tease.

“Please,” he says quickly.

“Pretty please?” you push on.

“Pretty please, fuck, (y/n), please let me eat you out. Please. I need to fucking eat you out. I need to feel your come on my tongue, need to taste it, need to please you and feel your thighs against my cheeks. Pretty please,” he spews, hoping that this time he actually gets to do what he’s been wanting to do since he knelt between your legs.

The last thing he sees before being pulled into your pussy is your huge smile. “Good boy, see, that wasn’t too hard.”

Between your legs, Kei has some ounce of control. He knows exactly what he’s doing and how to make you squirm and even though he had to say please a million times to get here and will have to stop when you say stop and follow your orders as you give them, until then, he gets to do whatever he wants. 

There’s no teasing, no build up. You’re so wet, dripping from teasing him and the control you felt with Tadashi. Kei doesn’t let a drop go to waste, running the flat of his tongue between your lips and prodding at your hole with the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t want to waste another second without his tongue deep inside of your tight little hole.

He fucks his tongue in and out of you, pressing his face as hard into you as he can in an attempt to get his tongue so deep inside you. You help as much as you can, both hands at the back of his head, pulling and tugging at his hair, clawing at his neck and back and as far down as you can reach. He knows how sensitive your hole is, feels it quivering against his tongue. 

He knows your body better than you do, knows exactly how to make you come. After all of the teasing you did, all of the talk, he can’t think of anything he wants more than to make you come as quickly as possible.

You weren’t going to stop him. 

“Holy fuck, Kei, oh my god.”

His lips are moving against your clit as he tries to fuck his tongue into you deeper. He’s moving his entire face, the tip of his tongue harsh against your hole as his nose nudges against your clit. The motions are perfectly repetitive just like he knows you like it. The louder that your moans get and the harder that you start to squirm and the tighter your hands grip, the more motivated Kei is. “Gonna, fuck, I’m gonna come all over your pretty face,” you tell him between moans.

Your core is tightening and your body is convulsing, but you can’t let go. You need to hear him. He needs to tell you. You want him to tell you. “Kei, fuck, tell me. Please, tell me. Let me come, please. Please.” There is no remorse, not even after the fact. Part of that comes with the lack of snide remarks or tone from Kei, the other part comes with just how close you are and how hard you’re about to fall.

“Come, baby, come all over my pretty face, please, please come for me. Please come all over my pretty face,” he says against your pussy, but you can hear each word so clearly. That’s all it takes for you to come undone. You let go, head hitting the mattress harshly as you grab onto his hair even harder. His name is the only thing coming out of your mouth, the only thing on your mind until it isn’t.

“Again, again, again,” you say, repeating as you nod at him.

He listens instantly, diving back between your legs and continuing to eat you out. He doesn’t have to tell you to come the second time or the third or the fourth. You let them roll over you like waves, coming as soon as your body allows you to. 

“Okay, okay, fuck, okay, that’s enough,” you breathe. He doesn’t stop, driven by the pure bliss in the reactions you’ve given him and the way that you dropped control for a passing moment. He wants to feel it again, taking control from you. You almost let him. “Fuck, Kei, enough,” you repeat, more stern this time. 

He lifts his head from between your legs, face a mess, hair tangled, breath ragged. “What do you say?” you ask, not even letting him compose himself before responding. 

“Thank you,” he says, and honestly, he looks just as grateful as the labored appreciation sounds. 

You push yourself up despite how much you want to just sit with Kei’s warm cheek against the fat of your thigh and despite how tired you are from everything that just happened and despite how you want to hear Kei thank you forever. “Kei, get him prepped for me, yea?” You miss the initial reaction from Tadashi, only catch the end of his attempts to compose himself and the lasting redness on his cheekbones. You don’t say another word until you’ve made it to the doorframe. “Dashi, Kei’s in charge while I’m gone, listen good, okay?”

You catch the faintest glimpse of Kei’s smirk as he stands tall once again, making his way over to the corner of the room that Tadashi was frozen in. The second that you’re out of view, you let yourself breathe, let your shoulders slump and your legs wobble as much as they want. You grab your bag that you left at the front door and change in the familiar bathroom closest to the top of the stairs. 

You went all out, decided that if you were going to do this, you were going to do this right. The thick main harness was just one part of the intricate buckles, straps, and fasteners. You had tried it on before, the first time that you got it. Kei helped you put it on, tightened the straps and moved each piece so it fit snug and comfortable. 

The top belt sits on your waist, thick faux leather straps with buckles on each side adorned to a ring that rests on your stomach. The second set of straps holds the main ring in place, two fasteners tightly fit against your hips. You slide the dildo into the ring before tightening the straps to your liking. It’s heavy between your legs, thick and lengthy, deceivingly lifelike to the touch and eye. 

As you’re putting the finishing touches onto your look, fixing the harness and making sure that everything is exactly as you want it to be, the soft and subtle noises that you’ve been hearing from the other room become louder. The noises quickly fill the entire upstairs. You’re sure at this point that Kei has asked Tadashi not to hold back, has told him explicitly not to. 

There is a lot of gratitude coming from Tadashi and only as he’s practically screaming can you hear what he’s thanking Kei for. 

“Thank you for getting me ready for (y/n),” Tadashi cries. “Feels so good, so good, fingers feel so good thank you, Kei.”

It sends a shiver down your spine, the amount of desperation and the sincerity of the thank you.

You gently press open the cap to the lube, letting a stream of the cool liquid coat the top side of the silicone cock. You use your thumb and palm to spread it over the skin, twisting your wrist and slathering the slick liquid all over, pouring a generous amount on the tip and watching it drip from the head. You know that it’s not really yours, that it’s not actually attached to you, that you don’t feel from it, and yet, as you push your hips forward, as the cock slides between the hole you’ve created with your fist, your core feels warm and you let out a small moan. 

The walk back to the room feels like a mile. You know that the two of them are undoubtedly too enthralled in their own actions right now to notice you at the door. It’s not a bad thing though. You get to watch for a few moments. They don’t know you’re there, aren’t acting in any sort of way for an audience or praise. 

Tadashi has taken your spot. His legs are high in the air, held up by his hands grasped around his ankles. Kei holds a bottle of lube in one hand and is fucking 4 fingers into Tadashi’s hole with the other. 

Tadashi’s cock, rock hard and angrily red, is slapping against his stomach every time that Kei’s fingers bottom out. The back of his head is pressed into the mattress so hard, but his eyes are trained on Kei, bottom lip quivering whenever involuntary noises weren’t tumbling from them, sheets bunched up against sweaty palms. 

You could’ve watched this all night. You’re sure that if you hadn’t interrupted them they would’ve continued all night, partially because you didn’t give them instruction to stop, but also because the determination and joy in Kei’s demeanor matches Tadashi’s desperation perfectly. There’s something about Kei’s actions that makes it incomparable to how he acts with you, something about the fact that even though he’s in control, he’s just following directions. 

“Is he ready?” you ask, followed by an observation, “Looks like you’re just doing this for him now.”

They’re startled at your voice, immediately taken out of the intense moment that the two of them were in, but there’s no disdain for the deprivation of the transfixion. The only word to describe the look on their faces is gawking. There is less surprise in Kei’s given he’s seen you in it before, but that doesn’t stop the harsh swallow or the dwelling gaze over your chest, down to your waist, following the straps. 

Tadashi isn’t as subtle. His face is bright red, blushing, gasping for air from just being stretched. He pushes up from the bed, props himself on his elbows, and just stares. You can practically feel his heartbeat from where you’re standing in the doorway. “Is that for me?” he asks, void of the confidence the question deserves, tongue wetting his lips. 

You walk over, agonizingly slow, cock in hand. “Why don’t you turn around and I’ll show you?”

By the time you’ve made it to the edge of the bed, Tadashi has scrambled over himself and gotten on all fours, as if any delay would result in you giving up on the notion. You climb onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as you take in the sight before you. Tadashi looks rigid, not knowing when the next order or movement is coming, eyes forward on the pale wall. 

The second that the soft skin of your palms comes into contact with his hips, he melts into you, pushing back into your touch. His shoulders slump, head falls down, staring at the comforter below him instead. “Is this alright? Are you ready?” you ask, leaving one palm resting on his hip, but using the other hand to guide the tip of the dripping dildo against Tadashi’s stretched hole. 

The answer is evident in the urgency of his whimpers and the desperation in his reactions, but you need to hear it coming out of his mouth. “I’m not going to fuck you until you tell me you’re ready for it,” you clarify. 

“Yes, yes, I’m ready, please,” Tadashi answers. 

“Good boy.” There’s only a second between the finishing of your praise and you pressing your hips forward. It’s slow, but the pace is necessary no matter how badly you want to watch him take it all right this instant. You’re using your hand to guide the thick cock into Tadashi’s tight hole. You don’t need to physically feel it to know how tight it is, to see the rim swallowing the dildo. 

The moans and whimpers have ceased, replaced by labored breaths and diffused whines. You’d ask him questions, try to elicit some sort of verbal reply to the process, but he looks so focused on taking your cock. Still, you guide him through it, not just with the small kneading that you’re doing into his hip and the slow pace you’ve adapted, but with small coos of appreciation. “You’re doing so great, Dashi, fuck. It looks so good back here, you taking my nice thick cock just like that.” 

As soon as you don’t need your hand to guide the dildo, you lace it into Tadashi’s hair. It’s so soft. You can barely grasp any of it, can’t reach until he picks his head up and pushes it back into your hand. You feel disgustingly powerful now, hand weaved into Tadashi’s hair, slowly thrusting in and out of Tadashi’s ass. 

It takes a few beats for Tadashi to fully stretch around the girth of your cock, but with every gentle fuck into him, his whines turn back into whimpers which turn into throaty moans. “Can I go faster now?” you ask with a genuine softness. “Can you handle it?” with less genuine softness. He nods, choking out a few yeses amongst the noises.

You reward him with praise once again, “Good boy, huh, Tadashi? Are you my good boy?” You punctuate the question with a hard thrust, your hips meeting his ass in one fluid motion. His hair is tugged by your harsh grip and, with it, his lax body every time that you pull your hips away. 

He’s putty in your hand, malleable. The harder that you fuck him, the louder his moans get, the more power you feel. “Fuck, Dashi, it’s like I can fucking feel how pathetic you are squeezing my goddamn cock. So tight, so fucking perfect.” Your hips are on fire from repeatedly slamming into him, your palms are so sweaty that you can barely get a good grip, resorting to using your nails to anchor in place instead. Praise keeps falling out of your mouth so quickly that you’re not even sure what you’re saying half the time. It’s fast and you’re in control and he’s listening to you and you’re so drunk with this feeling. 

You can’t stop ramming into him, glad, actually, for once that you can’t feel how good Tadashi’s tight hole is squeezing your cock. It lets you fuck him relentlessly, no worry in the world about stamina even if your glutes and core are on fire from the constant motion. You don’t want to stop, can’t, not with how fucking perfect he looks, not with how fucking obedient he’s being. 

“I know you just want to be good, Dashi, fuck, we’ll teach you to be good, you’re being so good,” you moan. 

It’s like you’re a completely different person here, so vastly different than the last time you were in this bedroom. You don’t miss it, not even a little bit. Well… at least not at this exact moment. 

With no word from you, Kei has just been standing there, behind you, just watching . All of your attention is on Tadashi, soaking in his noises and body language, you’ve barely even noticed Kei. One quick glance over your shoulder and you can see how mesmerized he looks taking it all in, seeing you in this new element. You see the bulge in his pants, the little satisfaction that he is getting from his own palm. After doing so much already, he deserves better than what he’s giving himself now. 

“Do what you do best, Kei. Abuse his throat,” you command, trying to keep a steady voice through your wandering thoughts and thrusts. You don’t have to ask him twice, barely have to finish the three word demand and he’s walking around to the other side of the bed. 

He gets to see the side that you don’t get to see, the mouth agape and wet lashes. All that you get to see is the smirk that plagues the bottom half of Kei’s face as soon as Tadashi is in view. Your thrusts are slower now, but still at a steady enough pace to appreciate the subtle ripples in the fat of Tadashi’s ass, letting Kei get a good hold on the situation, giving up just a small fraction of your control so that Kei can have his way with Tadashi. 

You offer a bit of advice as Kei is undoing his buckle. “It’s easy to pleasure Kei,” you breathe, “You just let him do whatever he wants to you.” You can practically feel Tadashi tighten around you. 

“Open,” Kei says as soon as his cock is exposed to the air. “Wider than that, Tadashi, don’t insult me.” Both of Kei’s hands are braced on either side of Tadashi’s face as Kei pushes the tip of his cock past Tadashi’s lips. “Just like that, good.” Kei’s voice is monotonous, if only a bit condescending. “Keep that hole nice and tight for me.”

You watch Tadashi shiver as he drinks up every single word. Tadashi has been on the reciprocating end of Kei’s smart mouth before, but not like this. Even the last time he was in this room with the two of you, the directions that he was following only affected himself. Tadashi knows how poor he’s been at pleasing you in the past and he really just wants to be good, wants to listen and learn.

Kei shallowly thrusts in and out of Tadashi’s mouth, the head of his cock repeatedly slipping past Tadashi’s wet lips. “Use that slutty fucking tongue, Tadashi. You’re not doing anything, just sitting there getting railed, the least you could do is move your tongue.” Kei lets his head fall back, something evidently changing in the technique that Tadashi is using. “Good.”

The more that Kei seems to be enjoying it, the deeper his thrusts go, the faster his pace. It doesn’t take long for Kei to start using Tadashi like he uses you. If Tadashi didn’t look like he was enjoying himself as much as he did, pushing back onto your cock, whimpering and gagging around Kei’s, you would have stopped and taken his place. 

He couldn’t make you come for years, even as you tried to guide him, begged him as you cried out instructions, but there was something so different about the way he’s going down on Kei. 

You had directed him in the past, nudged his face where you wanted it to be, wrapped your legs around his neck to pull him deeper, but none of it mattered. He just couldn’t make you come. 

But there was something so distinctly different about the way Kei was treating Tadashi. There was no begging or asking, and directing wasn’t the right word, neither was guiding. Kei now has a commanding hold of Tadashi’s face, one hand on either side as he moves Tadashi’s mouth up and down his cock. His hips are still, letting Tadashi’s head bob through the complete motion. 

When Kei’s methods catch your eye, you can’t help but stop to take it in, no longer watching the ripples in his skin as your hips meet his ass, now watching it unfold from this angle, from behind Tadashi, your cock engulfed by his tight hole.

Kei’s long fingers bracket Tadashi’s face, pushing into his jaw, neck, cheek, wherever he could reach, and wherever he needed to adjust to get the most perfect angle. It’s mesmerizing. 

And it’s so different from the way he handles you. Sometimes he holds your face like that, moves you so agonizingly slow on his length that your throat will hurt for days after, but there’s always an amount of trust. 

This in front of you? The way that Kei is so meticulously moving Tadashi, the way that he’s leaving nothing up to assumption or interpretation, this is Kei teaching. 

He’s wordless about it, doesn’t teach Tadashi through verbal instructions or lengthy explanations, he just shows him exactly what he wants. It’s almost more condescending than if Kei was talking down to him in a way, like he’s too stupid to understand what he means, so he can only show him. 

You don’t think Tadashi catches this or thinks this far or has any thoughts at all right now other than controlling his breathing and every single muscle in his mouth and throat. It’s not a normal state of being, you know that well. 

You catch a glimpse of Kei’s face, manage to pull your attention away from the thick cock splitting Tadashi open and Kei’s strong hands on Tadashi’s jaw. His face is strewn with pleasure and concentration. You don’t normally get to watch Kei from this angle nor this intently. You watch his eyebrows furrow together, his jaw clench between slow exhales, his features soften and his eyes flutter close every once and awhile. You’re cursing yourself for never having filmed the two of you having sex. You would watch this on repeat if you could.

“Kei,” you breathe, ready to repeat yourself on account of how quiet his name is in comparison to the lewd sounds that are bouncing off the walls. Kei looks up at you immediately with an air of confusion, waiting for another command or instruction. When nothing else comes, he doesn’t break eye contact like you thought he might. He’s not paying attention to Tadashi save for the mindless thrusting. “God, you look so good right now.”

He clicks his tongue at the compliment, shaking his head a small amount before returning his focus, looking back down almost quick enough to hide the subtle blush on his cheekbones. You don’t force him to look back at you, though you know that you could, but you still want to have some sort of contact with him. You are becoming increasingly aware of how much you want to be where Tadashi is and how much you want to feel Kei’s skin on yours.

Tadashi’s voice pulls you out of it, the repetition of your name that follows his gasping for air. “Want, want to- So good- Need to come,” Tadashi manages to get out in between harsh swallows and intakes of air. 

“Not yet.” It comes out of your mouth without any thought and you realize why Kei does this so often. The sense of power that comes alongside controlling Tadashi’s orgasm is mindblowing. Even if he came right now, didn’t listen to you at all, you would have rode this high for weeks. 

Tadashi does listen, though. He whimpers a small okay before Kei starts using his throat again. You claw your fingernails into his hips, pressing hard enough to leave small indents in his soft skin, and you pull him onto your cock to match your thrusts. “Look at that, see, you didn’t need to cum, not yet, Dashi, being such a good boy.”

Kei only gets to fuck Tadashi’s throat for a few moments before Tadashi is pulling away once again. “I- I can’t hold it any longer, please,” Tadashi’s voice cracks as he begs. “Please.” You pull out in one motion leaving Tadashi gaping and empty in front of you. 

“Then come, Tadashi,” you say in a tone that is eerily as condescending as Kei’s. You run your hands down Tadashi’s side, grabbing onto his ass and spreading him open as wide as you can. “If you can’t hold it, then cum.”

Tadashi is thrusting into the air. “I- I can’t.”

“You’ve come without touching yourself before,” your voice is stern but steady at first, but as you keep thinking about it, there is a simmering underlying anger that is emerging. “Sat right there on the corner of the bed and came in your pants like a pathetic little cuck.”

You grab Tadashi by the shoulder, flipping him over onto his back. “Kei, pillow under his head so he can look at me while I’m fucking talking to him.” Kei doesn’t hesitate for a second, puts the pillow underneath Tadashi’s head so that his line of sight is directly at your face, eyes narrowed as you continue. 

“When no one is paying attention to you, when you’re watching your ex get railed and satisfied in a way that you never could, you lose your mind. You’ll shoot your load, make a fucking mess all over yourself, but when I’m here giving you everything that you could ever want, you can’t fucking come?”

You positioned yourself between Tadashi’s legs, the head of the dildo grazing his hole. “What? When Kei tells you to do it you can, but when I tell you to come after pounding my fat fucking cock in and out of you, you can’t? Do you know how fucking pathetic that is?” 

Tadashi’s chest is rising and falling faster, his breath is labored and he’s not breaking eye contact with you. You can tell just how close he is.

“I won’t tell you again. Instead, I’ll just fucking leave. Come. Now.” You wrap your hand around his throat, leaning your weight into your grip as his face scrunches up in ecstasy. His lips are moving, but no sound is coming out and only when you ease up on your grip can you hear the gratitude that he’s repeating in between the grunts.

His come spills from the head of his cock, lazily dripping down the sides of his rock hard erection and down his twitching balls. He’s struggling to keep his hands at his side and not jerk himself off through his orgasm. 

“Is that all it took?” you scoff, pressing the head of the dildo against his asshole, catching some of his come as it drips down. “Still hard though, right, Dashi? Still want to get fucked?” You don’t give him time to answer before pushing your hips forward, slowly spearing him with your cock as tears fall from his eyes.

“Yes, fuck, please, I want to come again,” Tadashi begs, eyes not leaving yours. 

“Greedy,” you shake your head, but you can’t hide your smirk as you pick up the pace. In this position you get to watch his face as you ruin him. The tears that are running down his face, wetting his cheeks and long lashes, just make it that much hotter. His cock is slapping against his stomach as thrust in and out of him.

It doesn’t take long before his breaths are closer together, back is arching, hips rolling, and he’s nodding in your direction. “I- I’m already so close. Can- I need- I want-.”

“What do you want? Tell me and I’ll give it to you. You’ve been so good, came for me without anything but my voice, took Kei’s cock so well, just tell me what you want,” you say.

No one has touched his cock all night, covered in his own come, violently twitching against himself as it slaps against his stomach. 

His eyes are screwed shut, thrusting up into nothing, consequently fucking himself on your cock, you’re sure that he’s going to ask to touch himself. In your mind, there’s no other option, nothing that he would feel comfortable enough asking for. 

It leaves his mouth so confidently. He trusts you so much, knows that you wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true, so he asks for exactly what he wants and he’s so assured as he does. 

“Want Tsukki’s mouth on my cock.”

You look up to see Kei’s reaction, refuse to do it if there is any sort of discomfort or distaste, but there’s nothing of the sort. He gives a short nod, a nod that Tadashi is too fucked out to notice. You don’t slow your pace or allow a falter in your rhythm as you watch Kei climb onto the bed. He’s gentle as he takes Tadashi’s cock into his mouth, captures the head first, swirling his tongue around the tip before taking the entire length. Kei doesn’t seem to struggle much, easily takes it to the base.

Tadashi is surprised despite the fact that he’s the one that asked for it so nicely. His eyes flutter shut, truly taking in every single feeling and sensation that is happening to him right now. Tadashi’s hips are thrusting up into Kei’s mouth now, moaning as he slides down Kei’s throat and then falls down onto your cock. 

“Gonna- Can I? Please,” Tadashi can barely say more than two words at a time, but you know exactly what he’s asking for. 

“Go ahead, Dashi, come, you deserve it.” 

As soon as you say the word, he’s coming down Kei’s throat. You watch it drip from the corners of Kei’s mouth as Tadashi keeps thrusting desperately. Tadashi is thanking you and thanking Kei and mumbling other words that you can’t quite pick up. His hands are roaming, trying to find a place to land. One finds a spot lightly on Kei’s shoulder and you meet the other hand with your own, locking your fingers with his as he holds onto you through his orgasm.

Kei waits for Tadashi to calm down before pulling his head off of his cock. Kei wipes his lips and you can tell there's a smart comment that wants to come out so badly, but he doesn’t get the chance to say it. 

“Thank you,” Tadashi says, eyes shutting every other second. You’re surprised that he’s still awake after two back-to-back orgasms like that. His eyebrows furrow and he perks up just a little bit, “but, wait, what about- what about you guys?”

You shake your head, carefully getting up from the bed, cautious not to disturb Tadashi as Kei gently positions him more comfortably in bed. You unbuckle the straps on your harness, taking it off and stepping out of it. You feel so light without the extra weight between your legs.

You manage to get in bed before Kei reaches for the covers and extra blankets. “This wasn’t about us,” you assure Tadashi. “Thank you for letting us in and for trusting us enough to do this again.” You feel the mattress dip behind you as Kei climbs underneath the covers he’s laid on top of the two of you. 

In the morning there will be more to say, more conversations to be had, boundaries to set and feelings to talk out, but for now… for now you are happily in bed, surrounded and warm, and you know that your company is too. 

taglist: @daddyjackfrost @karasunoya @girlwith-kalei-do-scope-eyes @itsmeteiiteii @omiivr @cyueksims @kei-tsuki21 @ks-tsukki @snazzyturtles @rinniemybeloved @tsukiran @kurapika-1999 @hehatesmati

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yamaguchi: Tsukki and i got married!!

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baby tsukki 🍰