miyakiwiii - Tumblr blog

miyakiwiii · 15 days ago

Text

— 1004

pairing: yukimiya kenyu x f!reader

tags: established relationship, pwp, dry humping, cunnilingus, pet name (pretty girl), honestly the most vanilla thing i’ll ever write probably tbh

wc: 2.4k

summary: your boyfriend is adamant on showing just how much he loves you.

a/n: yeehaw first time writing for blue lock! vanilla and like... romance is not my usual thing so hope it's ok lol. dividers by @/adornedwithlight

ao3 link here

Everything’s great with your boyfriend.

For the most part.

He’s perfect on paper: kind, treats you well, adored by friends and family members alike. Never fails to bring a smile to your face whenever you see him. But that’s what makes it all the more frustrating when his hands grab your thighs with an ironclad grip, begging you to stop straddling him.

It’s not the first time this has happened, far from it. Maybe you were a bit foolish in knowingly dating someone so chaste, thinking you’d be able to convince him otherwise. But every time he rejects your advances, you can’t help but wonder why he’s still with you. Still, you heed his request, getting off him to take a seat next to him on the couch.

“Yukki…” you trail off, huddling into yourself as you find the words to say next, “do you like me?”

Kenyu’s eyes widen, his expression full of concern, as if you kicked a puppy right in front of him. “Huh? Where’s that coming from?”

“I mean…” you mumble, resting your face on top of your knees, “we never do anything more than kissing.”

Once you start, it’s hard to stop. The ball in your throat grows, the words spilling from your mouth, like water from a dam that’s been compromised.

“I know you want to wait ‘til marriage but, sometimes it feels like you don’t like me when that’s all we do,” you pause, looking over at him when a twang of guilt strikes your chest before looking down again, “I-I mean we don’t have to go all the way or anything like that.”

“I-It’s nothing like that,” he sighs, pinching his temple before continuing, “I like you, a lot. You could even say that I love you.” The confession makes your skin run hot, even though you’ve heard it plenty of times before.

“It’s not that I don’t want to do it, I’m just scared.” Kenyu shifts again, attempting to face you before continuing, but the second his eyes meet yours, he looks away. “When you get on top of me like that…” Now it’s his turn to be flustered, his skin blooming a pretty shade of pink as he struggles to thread his words together. “I don’t think I can last long.”

You sit up properly, tilting your head quizzically. He has your full attention now. “Huh?”

“It feels crazy good,” Kenyu continues, struggling to meet your gaze, “good enough to make me… You know.” He stops himself short of the word, but you both know what he means. He won’t say it out loud because he won’t know what to do with himself. Though if you’re being honest, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself either.

The silence is deafening. It’s as if the room is waiting for a response. The realization strikes you like lightning, sudden and bright. It’s not that your boyfriend doesn’t like you, quite the opposite in fact. He might like you a little too much.

“Ah, but that’s kinda embarrassing, isn’t it?” he asks sheepishly, breaking the silence first and brandishing a forced smile to hide his insecurity.

“Yukki,” you say before putting your hands on either side of his face before pressing, “look at me.”

“I’m looking,” he mumbles through his squished lips.

“I don’t mind. Actually…” you look off to the side even though you’re the one who forced this intimate display of eye contact, “I think it’s really hot.”

His eyebrows manage to shoot up in shock, even in this position. “You sure?”

“You think I’d lie to you?”

He chuckles, and you can hear the relief in his voice. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Then will you let me do the honors?” you ask, looking up at him doe-eyed and fluttering your lashes.

“S-Sure. But can we take it slow?”

“Whatever you want, Yukki,” you say softly, voice honeyed with affection as you get on top of him again. Kenyu shifts, his hands wrapping around your thighs softer this time.

It’s as if something’s shifted. You’ve kissed each other plenty of times before, but now that the intention to go further lies in the air, it’s like your first time again. Awkward, flustered, apologetic as you try to kiss him and accidentally bump foreheads together.

Kenyu laughs, because no matter what you do, he always finds you adorable. He decides to take his hands off your thighs and place them on the back of your head, gently bringing you in for a kiss that puts romance movies to shame. He’s in no rush, savoring the taste of you on his lips as he always does.

Kenyu always knows how to bring you back to Earth. He cherishes you–holds and kisses you like you’re the most delicate piece of china in a glass cabinet. And while this is nice enough on its own, you have other things you’ve been wanting to try. You keep his preferences in mind, taking it slow with a lazy roll of your hips. Even with that, you can hear his voice catching in his throat.

You use the opportunity to take it a bit further and slip your tongue in, which he welcomes. Every time you take it a bit further–whether it’s biting his lip or playing with his tongue–his self control chips a little more, whispered moans filling your mouth.

With every kiss, every roll of your hips, you can feel his length growing, getting hotter even when it’s confined by the fabric of his pants. It makes you want to work just a little harder, get yourself a little closer to cumming with him. The fabric is frustrating, an annoying reminder of just how close yet far you are from him. Though, that frustration starts to melt when Kenyu follows the rhythm of your hips.

It’s getting harder to keep your promise when he’s this cute. When you wrap your arms around his neck, you can feel just how hot and bothered he is, as if his soft whimpers weren’t enough of a testament already. What was once a soft grasp behind your head grows into something more primal and unrefined, desperation running through his fingertips as he grabs whatever he can to bring you closer to him.

You’re not any better, the speed of your hips picking up, desperate to hear him so needy. It’s the first time you’ve heard him like this.

As you lose your control and composure, your hips grind against him harder. Kenyu can’t keep his voice back any longer, desperate groans leaving his mouth with a quiver of his lips. Every sound he gives you goes straight to your pussy, making you warm and greedy for more.

You can feel the wet spot on your panties grow as you rub against him and wonder if he can feel it too. It might be pushing it, but the thought of freeing his cock shoots through your head. It feels and looks so tight against the fabric, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“Yukki,” you pause and give a glance at his zipper, “can I?”

“I thought we weren’t going all the way,” he replies, breathless as he looks up at you.

“We aren’t… I just wanna feel you more,” you say meekly, “that’s ok, right?”

His eyes widen like saucers before nodding. “Y-Yeah, go for it.”

So you do, unzipping his pants like you’re unwrapping a present—it might as well be one. You adjust and place yourself right on top and start again, though the sensation is much better this time around for both of you. You see it in the way Yuuki immediately throws his head back and moans, feel it in the way your cunt slides against his heat with only two layers of thin fabric keeping you apart.

All of it’s just too much for you–the pre that’s smeared on his boxers, the warmth of his cock against your clothed folds. It’s the closest you’ve been to him, to going all the way. Everything about it makes you more desperate to see him cum, so you focus all your attention on his leaky tip, just to see how sticky you can make it.

The sight of you proves to be too much for Kenyu, as he brings up his arm to shield his eyes. You’re quick to move it out of the way, a silent plea for him to look at you, look at where you’re nearly connected.

“Getting close?” you ask, sweet as sugar. Just the sound of your voice is enough to send him over the edge, but he wants to hold out, even if it’s just for a moment longer.

“You gotta look at me when you cum,” you plead.

Kenyu bites his lip and groans before shakily nodding.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bring your face closer to his until you’re touching forehead to forehead–close enough to feel every pant, every tremor of his voice.

“You love me?” you moan, digging your hips into him deeper.

“God, I love you so much,” he moans back, eyes lined with tears that are one blink from falling.

Kenyu’s desperately rutting his hips into you, and you swear you can feel him prodding at your entrance.

You feel it when Kenyu cums with a gravelly groan, his chest rattling as he cries. Even more so when you keep humping him, as his boxers get stickier and mix with your slick.

“W-Wait, too much,” he gasps, muscles visibly tightening in his neck as he throws his head back.

You can’t take your eyes off of the point where your undergarments meet, fabric soaked and darkened from the fluids.

“You really love me, huh?” you ask with a smile.

“Of course,” he sighs contentedly before giving you a soft peck on the cheek. It makes it all too easy to snuggle into him and lie your head on his chest. Before you can get too comfortable, Kenyu shifts his body and you’re suddenly far too aware of the sticky patch touching your underwear.

“Um… Should we clean up?” you ask, preparing yourself to dismount before Kenyu shifts his weight to push you back down on the couch, his hands around your wrists. Determination lights a fire in his eyes.

“You gotta let me return the favor.”

“H-Huh?”

“Let you…” he glances down at the wet spot of your panties before looking back at you, “you know?”

Oh.

“N-No, this is enough for me Yukki, I don’t wanna do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“But I do want this,” he assures you before kissing your cheek, his hands carefully tracing the curve of your hips, “I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”

“I mean,” you pause, shuffling a bit and adjusting your gaze away from him, “if you’re okay with it.”

That’s all the approval he needs to kiss you, drawing a trail down your body.

Kenyu’s careful and meticulous, savoring every press of his lips against your skin. Whether it’s your neck, chest, waist, he lingers as if he doesn’t want to leave it behind. Every opened mouth kiss, flick of his tongue filled with adoration.

Whatever ritual he has going on, it doesn’t fail to make you shiver in anticipation, have butterflies blooming in your stomach. It makes you shy, being so exposed in front of him. In a way, it’s a little nostalgic—reminds you of the first time he dropped you off at your apartment and said his goodbyes with a kiss.

But then you’re brought back to the moment when Kenyu adjusts and shifts you to lie down on your back. His hands are there every step of the way, a silent plea to let him take care of everything.

He takes his time with you, slowly kissing a path up your leg. With each kiss, he lingers a moment longer. A playful bite here, a hint of tongue there. It keeps you on edge, just a little. Every hushed gasp or squeal earns a huff and a smile out of him.

“My pretty girl,” he sighs, adoration laced in his breath.

Carefully, he tests the waters with a delicate kiss before going in with a drag of his tongue as soon as a moan slips from your lips. From there, he uses his tongue with a determination you usually only see on the field from afar, like he’s trying to tear a hole in your underwear. The cotton gets wetter with every stroke of his tongue, sticky fabric clinging to your lips.

With his enthusiasm, it’s as if the underwear isn’t even there. All you can feel is Kenyu’s tongue, hot and heavy, incessantly drawing circles around your clit. It’s too much, looking down and seeing his head disappear under the fabric of your skirt. When you instinctively shut your legs out of embarrassment, his hands hook around your thighs and bring you closer. It brings a newly lit passion out of him, has him pressing his face even harder into your pussy.

The noises he makes while sucking on the fabric is too much for your ears, too much for a first time. It’s messy, unrefined, and nothing you would expect from your prim and proper boyfriend. Something about seeing him like this, so desperate and eager to serve, only adds to your arousal.

Despite how laser focused he is on your clit, on making you reach the apex of pleasure, he brings his hand to yours, your fingers intertwining. His thumb rubs circles into your skin, something he always does to comfort you. Maybe he feels it coming before you, with the way your breathing intensifies, the way your moans get louder and all the more cuter.

“You love me too, don’t you?” he asks, hushed and panting.

“L-Love you so, mmh, much Kenyu,” you cry back, biting your lip.

“Wanna show me how much?” he asks before going back into you, passion woven in each stroke of his tongue.

“Yes, yes, yes-” you cry before your climax finally hits you like a wave. Even though you barely recognize the sounds pouring from your lips, you wonder if Yuuki does. All stuttered moans and hushed pants as he guides you through it. His pace starts to slow as you come down from your high, before sealing it with a kiss on your clit.

“Next time you think I don’t love you,” he pauses to meet you face to face before pressing his lips onto yours, “I hope you’ll remember this.”

#man this makes me cry bc i know i cant experience romanticness #i KNOW THIS IS SMUT BUT LIKE... I CAN FEEL THE LOVE RADIATING FRKM TJIS #i love romance #i love romance sm

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miyakiwiii · 1 month ago

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I would pay millions for this to be a series cuz its sew good

wanted to celebrate nagumo's anime debut w a snippet of him with former poisons classmate!reader and got carried away bc it's nagumo (sigh)

Something feels off the moment you enter Sakamoto’s store.

The issue is pinpointing the exact trigger for your immediate unease. If anything, your mind finds it easier to rule out potential sources rather than narrow on one specific cause. It’s not the soft chimes that welcomed you at the entrance or the fact that you’re the only customer in the convenience store. And as you offer the quiet owner a good morning, you quickly deduce that Sakamoto Taro is not the culprit once he gives you his usual curt nod, followed by a lackadaisical page flip of today’s newspaper.

“Where’s Shin-kun?” You make your way to the back to grab the peach tea the younger blond would’ve already gotten for you had he been here. Who would’ve thought a clairvoyant would excel in other fields that didn’t solely revolve around lethal combat and assassinations?

“Running errands with Lu,” he replies gruffly.

“You better not be overworking those two kids,” you say as you get a rice ball. After remembering that you failed to pack lunch for today, you grab two more.

“They get overtime pay.”

You’re unsure if your laugh is out of surprised delight that he took the teasing seriously–Sakamoto never seemed like the defensive type–or the strange realization that perhaps the former assassin, who rarely cracks a grin, could have a sense of humor.

“Speaking of overtime”–you grab a pack of gum and toss it to Sakamoto, who gracefully catches it while his eyes remain trained on the other items he’s scanning–“I told Aoi I would be happy to watch over Hana so you two can finally have your date night.”

“Oh wow, really?”

Though his reaction hints at his shock, you’re convinced that you’re the one most surprised by his extra chatter today.

Trying to shake off the strange atmosphere of these past few minutes, you laugh (again) as you search for the wallet in your messenger bag. “I figured she would’ve already broken the news. Guess not.”

“But how does an assistant professor and scientist have time to babysit? Especially after your promotion at that prestigious university?”

Your fingers hovering over the cash go still, and the silent pause you take to carefully consider your next words becomes too lengthy to ignore. “Uh, what?”

You hadn’t told anyone about your recent career developments. They were so new that you had recently begun to fully process them. In fact, you were mentally preparing to share the exciting milestone with the Sakamotos later this week since they were the first–and only–supporters who encouraged you to leave the assassin world for a boring, civilian life in academia.

“And what if the night you happen to watch Hana stops you from meeting the perfect person who you can have a date night with? Now, that wouldn’t be nice of us. Unless you already have someone and are keeping the target a secret.”

However, it’s not the many concerning words in such an invasive sentence that sets you off.

No, the exact moment that kicks your senses into overdrive is when your strained ears barely catch the low tune of pop music coming from the tiny radio hidden away in the corner.

The same radio that is always turned off.

The next few seconds fly quickly. In one blink, your hand effortlessly finds the knitting needle covertly kept in your bag. In the next, you find long, tattooed fingers tightly wrapped around your wrist, barely preventing the needle from digging into Nagumo’s carotid.

“Now,” the Order member says with an amicable closed-eye smile, “that’s not how you greet an old friend!”

There is no harshness to his actions when disarming you, gently lowering your trembling hands before he snaps the knitting needle with such force the ‘crack’ seems to echo throughout the store. After squinting at the dark liquid slowly leaking out of the broken needle, he sighs at how the color seemingly matches the one staining the tip of his eccentric collared shirt. Which also happens to be the same color of the narrow streak coming out from the tiny puncture in his neck.

“Ah, so you can take the poisons assassin away from the JAA, but you can’t take away the poisons from the poisons assassin. I knew you wouldn’t be rusty!”

“Nagumo,” you breathe out, heart stammering. It’s been so long that you almost forgot how dark his eyes are. A pair of black holes that would drag you into depths there were no coming out of. “What are you doing here?”

“How else am I supposed to congratulate my friend on accomplishing such a big goal? Especially when that friend is so adamant about cutting ties with anyone who dares say the word assass–”

Your hand instinctively clamps over his mouth, face growing as warm as the breath of the shortly-cut, but entertained, laugh currently tickling your skin.

You ignore how Nagumo lets the moment linger for far longer than necessary, moving your wrist, again, while his unnerving grin widens. When he makes his way over the counter–so fast you almost miss the fluid motion–you take a step back, desperate to recover any space he’s rapidly stealing from you.

“Shying away from our roots, I see?”

“How did you know about my promotion?” you whisper, the undercurrent of rage threatening to spill over. The hairs that stand on your neck make you feel colder.

Nagumo only continues to smile, an indecipherable look in his gaze that causes too many emotions to course through your veins. “Oh, c’mon, sensei, everyone in class knew it was gonna happen the moment you got nominated for that teaching prize.”

Suddenly, you’re not looking at Nagumo but are instead seeing the faces of your students Yoriko and Kenzo. Colleagues Kobayashi and Tanaka. Even the teaching assistant Keiji.

The knot in your stomach tightens. “Why are you here? Why now?”

Nagumo’s laugh is light, though not mocking. “If you really must know, I was waiting to throw a prank on Lu and Shin before telling Sakamoto-kun about his billion-yen bounty. I forgot you stop by on Wednesdays, but that’s okay–this was actually a good practice round! I wonder if they’ll take as long as you did to see through my disguise.”

“Hey, I knew it the moment I stepped foot into this store!” you exclaim. He doesn’t need to know that the only thing you knew then was that something was amiss.

Besides, why would he be the first person to cross your mind after you spent many long, painful years convincing your brain to swear off anyone who would’ve made you stay in a world you hated?

“Wait.” You shake your head, finally circling back to another thing the ORDER-level assassin just told you. It’s enough to make your chest rise in panic. “Billion-yen bounty? Don’t tell me–”

“No, I’m not here to kill him! I’m not that heartless. What type of man do you think I am?”

“An unserious one,” you mutter, grabbing the remnants of the broken and poison-laced knitting needle. “I can’t believe I wasted my emergency weapon on you.”

“A knitting needle isn’t so original, but I am so relieved you didn’t abandon all your hobbies and interests when you became a civilian. I’ll remind you that Oki-san said if you ever wanted to return as a retainer, he’ll pay double what Yotsumura gave you.”

“Will I also get a one-billion-yen bounty on my head? Not interested,” you grumble, raising a brow at Nagumo wiping the poison off his neck. The fact that he hasn’t shown any worrying signs makes you concerned about whether you’re losing your touch. You also know during your JCC days, you had once helped him in growing his resistance to various poisons–perhaps you trained him too well.

With the curl of your fingers digging into your palms, you tuck away that thought into the recess of your mind. Along with all the other memories spent with him and Rion that made you laugh then and now only bring an increasingly familiar pang in your chest.

“Wow, I didn’t realize how much you liked being a civilian!” He inches forward, a cryptic void behind those large, black eyes as he asks in a low voice, “Don’t tell me it’s because of that boring professor from the physics department.”

The dreadful sigh that accompanies his drawn-out enunciation of ‘boring’ makes you simultaneously embarrassed and worried about what else he knows. What he’s seen.

“What was his name…I swear it was something with a S…Sato…?”

Had he been the waiter who gave you an extra glass of wine upon seeing your exasperated expression during Sato's incessant humble bragging about some new publication? Or maybe he was the bartender who checked on you when Sato had gone to the bathroom after failing to ask a question about yourself in the past hour. Perhaps even the elderly woman on the subway who whispered that you could do much better than the hack you were with.

You gulp, unable to stop the tight squeeze of your chest. “How many different ways do I have to ask you? What do you want, Nagumo?”

His thin smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Why waste our limited precious time dwelling on answers you already know?”

The shake of your head is immediate, despising how he seems to get closer the more you retreat. “You might not believe it, but I like my life right now. I like being in Ikorai Hills, occasionally babysitting, and grading papers instead of making poisons. I don’t want to go back.”

The desperation you feel makes your voice hitch on a higher note with that last sentence.

You fear listing other reasons why you were lulled into this more peaceful side of society would make it seem like you're the one who needs convincing instead of Nagumo. So you shut your mouth, hoping that when he perceives the slight pleading in your eyes, he'll lay off.

Don’t make me go back.

Just as he’s about to speak–your body subconsciously leaning forward in his direction while waiting with bated breath–your messenger bag begins to vibrate.

Clearing a scratchy throat, your gaze remains on a smiling Nagumo as you answer the phone. “Hello. Yes, so sorry, but I’m running a few minutes late. Feel free to start the seminar without me, I’ll be there shortly. Yes, see you then.”

Nagumo grabs the phone and ends the call for you, a large hand enveloping yours as he clicks his tongue in false admonishment. The heat of his fingers brushing yours sends a chill down your spine. “My, already late during the first week of the semester. You sure you’re not having doubts about your current job?”

His touch soon feels scalding hot, and you blink away all the moments you embarrassingly craved his attention, even his mere presence. When you look up, your gasp is cut short once you notice the lack of distance between you two.

Don’t make me go back.

“No, this”–you shrink away slowly, struggling to break out of this reverie–“this is a bad idea. So don’t even think about it.”

“But you don’t even know what I’m thinking!” he says with a breezy laugh, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“I’m not re-joining the JAA–”

“I mean, if you still pay your yearly dues, does that mean you ever truly left it? Because–”

“And I’m not re-joining the ORDER–”

“Well, you were only our poisons expert, not an actual–”

“And for the umpteenth time, I’m not going out with you.”

As if you took the words out of his breaths, he simply smiles, uncharacteristically speechless.

Until he opens his mouth a beat later.

“We’ll see about that.”

Hating how your stomach flips from that statement alone, your eyes happen to find more interest in the rice balls and peach tea idly standing on the counter, long neglected, but not forgotten.

You ignore his watchful eyes on your figure as you place the food in your bag and twist open the lid of the drink.

Only for the contents inside the bottle to be thrown at him.

“Fat chance. Not when I need to grade papers and be a babysitter.”

You don’t stay long enough to hear any of his remarks about that.

When Aoi sends a text a few days later to update that Shin and Lu offered to watch over Hana, you don’t think much of it. And when your teaching assistant offers to review this week’s assignments, you happily relinquish your duties and even feel a spring in your step on your way home. The news secretly provides some relief, tension releasing from your shoulders as you excitedly welcome the idea of a relaxing night-in after the end of an unexpectedly stressful week.

It becomes easier to forget the root cause of the past nerve-wracking days once you’re a few hours into some popular TV crime series your co-workers were suggesting you start. You become almost too engrossed in the show that when you hear the knock on your door you almost tell the deliveryman to leave your dinner outside.

Once the person does another series of frenetic knocks, you hurry to the front and unlock the door, an impatient mutter on the tip of your tongue.

Only to slam your mouth shut upon opening the Pandora’s box you’ve been futilely attempting to keep locked away for all these years.

And despite the large bouquet of crimson roses covering the face of its holder, it doesn’t take a genius to guess it belongs to the assassin you keep on failing to forget.

Always a fan of theatrics, he lowers the flowers and inclines them in your direction, the floral scent amplifying the large lump forming in your throat.

“Since I bribed your teaching assistant to grade the class papers tonight,” Nagumo joyfully says with the biggest knowing smile, “and I also got Shin and Lu to watch over Hana, I gotta know. How are my chances of a date looking now?”

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