#and have the dni target in question just snap their fingers and let out a resigned “aww maaan”

[tragicclownwrites]

🤡

[awkward-tension-art]

Bacta and Bandages Chp.5 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Blushing

CW: Slow burn, Two fools trying to ignore their crushes, Rex being cute, firing practice, target practice, Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Tag list (I am so happy people want to be tagged <3): @heavenseed76 @arctrooper69

Minors DNI

You had to be honest with yourself. 

Your aim sucked. 

As a field surgeon, you technically weren’t supposed to be anywhere near droids. Your main purpose was to stay behind the forces and perform surgery and intensive medical care to those with severe wounds.

Kix would be on the front lines and keep the injured alive as long as possible until he could get them to you. 

You could hit your targets, if they were big enough. Like a tank. Or if they were about 5 feet in front of you…

Ok, you couldn’t really hit your targets. You’ve been with the 501st for months now and you haven’t gotten any better. 

You debated going full clone trooper and just punching the droids. After all, the soldiers had just gotten proper armor for their hands. Maybe you could get a pair of armored gloves…

“Everything alright?” 

You perked up hearing the question from Rex, snapping your attention back to the present. You had zoned out, staring at the same datapad for several minutes now. 

Right, you had come to his office to help a supply crate mix-up. Someone hadn’t properly labeled the crates, so there were blasters mixed with medical supplies, and bandages mixed with armor…It was a mess. And to make sure nothing was missing, you and him were supposed to go over the numbers so no helmet or tube of bacta was out of place. 

You sighed, “Yea, just…thinking. That's all.”

The Captain raised a brow, silently encouraging you to continue.

Over your time with the 501st, you’ve been able to read Rex more than anyone else. You understood what he was thinking through his expressions. You could guess his feelings based on his stance and body language, even when he wore his helmet.

Perhaps it was your training as a doctor that allowed you to read him so easily. 

Or…maybe it was the growing affection you had for him.

It’s a passing crush, that's all. You told yourself, Clones aren’t allowed to have romantic relationships. This’ll pass. Don’t get your hopes up.

Shoving that thought out of your mind you put the datapad down, “I’m a terrible shot.”

Rex let out a soft and surprised chuckle at your blunt statement, “Well…you're technically not supposed to be.”

“No, I mean…even if I need to defend myself or the wounded…I miss almost every shot with a blaster.” You responded, “I’ve tried to practice but…I just can’t aim very well…”

He had a small smirk on his lips, “You can’t be worse than a clanker.” 

“I assure you, I am.” 

Rex laughed again, “I can teach you, if you want. Besides, I’m sure a break would be good for us both.” 

Your heart fluttered. 

“I’d like that.” 

Which is how you found yourself in the hangar, standing about 20 meters away from an empty crate with a painted target. There were scorch marks dotting the metal and yellow paint, indicating that you weren’t the first person to need aim training.

The makeshift target range was mostly out of the way and out of sight of everyone else in the hangar, offering some privacy.

“I didn’t know this was here.” You admitted, staring at the target. 

Rex shrugged, “Some shinies set this up. The General didn’t mind, so I kept it for anyone who wanted to practice their shooting.”

You nodded in understanding. Usually if something didn’t make sense, the answer was always ‘shinies’.

“Alright, now, pick up your blaster.” He took the tone of a commanding Captain. His arms were crossed as he watched you get your pistol ready. You wrapped your hands on your blaster, and got into the stance you were trained to be in. 

You didn’t even put your finger on the trigger before Rex spoke up, “Already, I see the issue.” he stepped towards you, putting his gloved hands over yours. He changed the position of your hold, moving one of your palms from the bottom of the grip to over your other hand. 

You blinked, “Oh, I was holding it wrong.” 

Rex had a relaxed smile, “It's a common mistake.” He stepped back and nodded, “Fire.” 

You pulled the trigger and the blaster kicked back as it fired. However, you managed to keep the gun relatively steady. Your shot missed the target, hitting the upper corner of the crate. With a sigh you looked over at the captain. 

He kept his arms crossed, “Focus on where you’re aiming. Where you look, that's where you’ll hit.”

With a steadying breath, you looked down the sights of your gun and pulled the trigger again. Your shot was closer to the target that time, however, still not a hit. 

“Better.” Rex approached again. This time, he got closer, putting his hands over yours and stepping behind you. You felt the plastoid of his chestplate on your back as he leaned into your body, “Raise the blaster a little higher and try again.”

Don’t get distracted. Don't get distracted. 

You swallowed and pulled the trigger. Again, your shot had gotten closer to the target, barely hitting the yellow of the first ring. Frustration hit you and you huffed. 

Rex laughed softly and it struck you how warm his laugh was. How lovely.

Stop it. Grow out of your crush, you're not some grade school student. You are a grown ass adult. Act like it.

“Just look at the target. Not the sights on the blaster.” The clone captain was rolling incredibly well with your failures. He kept his hold on you as you calmed your emotions to focus. You did as he told, staring at the bright yellow target meters in front of you.

With another breath, you fired. 

This time, you hit the target. Not a bullseye at all, but at least you hit inside the last yellow ring.

“Oh, hey I actually got it.” You perked up, smiling slightly. 

Rex, sadly, let go and stepped back, “Good, now do it again. I want to see you hit the target at least 4 more times.” He put his helmet on, crossing his arms to watch you. He was tense now.

You tried not to let his sudden shift in attitude bother you. He was probably worried that someone might turn the corner and see him so lax and uncaptain-like. Rex did have to be professional after all…

Still, you did miss the warmth he gave. 

Again, you pulled the trigger. Without him holding your gun steady, your shot veered slightly and hit the outermost ring, “That counts.” you stated, looking over to the clone. 

He nodded, “It counts. I’ll be nice this time. But just this once.”

You couldn’t hold back your grin and you shot again. Another hit. Still no bullseye, but you got closer. 

Hey, 3 for 3. One more.

Without getting over confident, you took a steadying breath and pulled the trigger. 

Again, no bullseye, but your shot landed inside the second ring. You were improving. Or this was just pure luck. Either way, you’ll take it.

You smiled and turned to look at Rex. He nodded in approval and stepped towards you, “Very good. You learn quickly. Better than most troopers who step off Kamino.” 

“Aw, you think I’m better than a shiny?” You joked, hoping to help him relax.

He huffed under his helmet, but you could hear the smile in his voice, “That’s not a high bar, Doctor.” 

“I’ll take the compliment, Captain.” 

He was about to respond when your and his coms both beeped. He answered his and you answered yours. 

“Doctor, there's a patient in the sick bay.”

“Captain Rex, you're needed at the command bridge.”

With a sigh, you shared a look with Rex and rolled your eyes. You gave him a grateful smile, “Back to work, then?” 

“It never ends.” He sighed, “If you want…if you want to practice again, just let me know.” 

Your answer was kind and sweet, “I will. Thank you, Rex.” 

As you parted ways, you tried to calm your beating heart. 

It's a crush. It's a crush. Grow up. Just grow up already!

Rex, on the other hand, kept his helmet on as he walked away, because he was certain he was still blushing like a damn cadet.

He’s a captain. Captains shouldn’t fucking blush!

[somedaylazysomeday]

Target Acquired - Part Four

Now that you've infiltrated The Edge, you and Jango have to defend your place there while you retrieve Gusin.

Jango Fett x fem!bounty hunter!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4,500

Warnings: BDSM elements, mentions of orgies, mentions of drugging, semi public sex, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, orgasm denial/edging, public orgasm, coming untouched (ish).

Previous | Masterlist

---

You led Jango down the hall that had been pointed out to you. You hadn’t been completely sure what to expect, but it twisted and turned enough to offer some privacy long before you reached the door. 

That door led the room being used by Zamnist Gusin - under alias ‘Drox’ - to either start a cult or get fucked stupid, you weren’t sure which. Honestly, you weren’t sure whether Gusin knew which was their focus. The Falleen’s sexual appetites were legendary, but they also had a tendency to use their pheromones to gather mass numbers of followers. Those followers would gladly kill for Gusin if they’d been exposed for too long. 

“I don’t know if we have enough time to wait for Gusin to come out,” you murmured to Jango. “We might have to try and get in somehow.” 

“How many weapons do you have with you?” he asked. “In that outfit, probably not many, but you don’t know how many people they have in there.” 

It was a fair point, but you couldn’t fight a grin at his question. “I didn’t have room for a lot, but I managed to keep this with me.” 

Jango’s eyes widened at the small canister you held up. You had kept it in the ankle of one of your boots. The other held a small blaster, and there was a vibroblade sheathed between your breasts. That was the full extent of your arsenal, so you could only hope the gas would be effective. 

“I have some schematics of the building,” you explained, tapping one of your bracers. The hidden holoprojector embedded in the leather flickered to life, displaying a faint set of outlines that formed The Edge’s layout. “They make more sense now that we’re inside. I think I remember seeing that most rooms have multiple entrance points for safety reasons- What?” 

Jango had been staring at you, eyes slowly narrowing as his brows flattened. “Do you-? Is this outfit… Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” 

“Infiltrated The Edge?” you asked. “No, I haven’t. If I had, this would be going much more smoothly. What are you talking about?” 

“Just putting together some things.” 

You didn’t have time for this, you really didn’t. And yet… You sighed. “What things do you think you’ve put together?” 

“You like being restrained, like being told what to do…” Jango’s eyes traced from the top of your head to the soles of your boots. “And now this outfit. It makes me wonder if you do this more often when I’m not around.”

“I believe in being prepared,” you snapped. “I had to special order most of this and pay extra to have it done on time. And I’m not going to let all of that work be wasted because you think I have a secret BDSM fetish.” 

“I don’t know why you’re angry,” Jango said, holding his hands up innocently. “I’m the one who almost got eaten alive out there.” 

“Yeah, you’re irresistible.” If your voice was any more dry, you could have used it to sand down the rough spot on the wall behind you. “Now, can we-?” 

He gestured for you to continue. You shook your head and looked back at the schematics. “I think Gusin’s room is here. If I’m right, there’s an entrance around back.” 

Jango’s snort made you roll your eyes. You would say that you regretted having brought him along, but he had more than proved his worth as your backup. Instead, you loosed another sigh. “I think I may be able to pry the door open enough to roll the canister inside.” 

At last, his expression changed to something other than amusement or mischief. He looked disconcerted. “This isn’t a terrible spy holodrama. If you pry open a privacy door, an alarm will go off. And if it doesn’t, rolling in a gas canister will be the best way to tell people that something is going on. Gusin knows about the secondary door, I’m sure. And if you lob a knockout detonator in there, they’re gonna run before either of us have the chance to get them.” 

It was an irksomely good point. “What do you think we should do, then?” 

“Look at the size of this room,” Jango said, gesturing to your schematics. “For a room this size and the concentration of this gas, it’s going to take a while for anyone inside to be affected. We have to be quick and we have to be quiet. Otherwise, we’re not getting Gusin.” 

He looked over at the door panel. “I can slice in enough to get the doors open a bit. You need to reach in and set the canister down without anyone seeing or hearing it. It’s going to be tricky, and if someone sees, we need to run like hell.” 

“Why?” you asked, feeling a little sullen that your plan had been shot down so quickly. “You already pointed out that we won’t catch Gusin if they run.” 

“No, but we might get to live.” Jango grimaced. “Like you said, they could be making a couple dozen minions in there. When I die, it’s not going to be because I was beaten to death by a pheromone-hypnotized moron.”

“Fine,” you agreed. “If you can slice the door, I’ll get the canister in there subtly. Then we can double back through the main room, make our excuses, and go through the back to get Gusin. I’m pretty sure the hallway we came in through is the same one that leads around to access all of the private rooms.” 

“I think you’re right.” Jango turned to the panel. “Give me a minute to get this.” 

You were already nodding by the time something occurred to you. “Wait, you don’t have a slicing kit. How are you going to get in?” 

“Ingenuity,” he explained. An odd sound followed the word and you peeked over his shoulder to find him holding one of the fake hooks that had been hanging from his vest. He was using it to deftly pick at the buttons and mechanisms that made up the door panel.

You focused your attention on keeping watch. It was the best possible alternative - watching Jango work so smoothly with an improvised tool was piquing your interest in a very inconvenient way. Or maybe it was the outfit. Stars, you had good taste. 

“Are you ready?” Jango hissed. You gathered from his tone that it wasn’t the first time he had asked the question. 

“Ready,” you agreed, rushing to the door and dropping to your knees. Jango gave you a loaded look, but you ignored him. At your nod, he slowly thumbed at a blunted gear, inching the door open. 

You couldn’t fit your head through the gap in the door, and you didn’t want to. It would have been an insane risk, not to mention the sounds that were pouring out of the room. But you did press your face to the widening crack. It took far too many seconds, but you spotted what you were looking for: a large cabinet-like piece of furniture sitting to the left of the door. 

You took a deep breath, registering that Jango had done the same, and unsealed the gas canister. It gave a single loud hiss and your heart thudded, but the noise was camouflaged by a remarkably loud moan from inside the room. You reached blindly into the room, setting the canister behind the piece of furniture. From the straps and chains you could see dangling from the side closer to you, it was probably some piece of BDSM hardware, but thankfully not in use just then. 

In any case, you withdrew your hand just before Jango allowed the door to close around you. You glared up at him, wiping your hands on your shorts as you stood. “You couldn’t have given me a bit of warning?” 

He shook his head. “The gas was starting to seep this way. It wouldn’t have taken much for it to knock us out and leave them unaffected.” 

You let your hands fall limply to your sides. With that behind you, the adrenaline was starting to fade, and you couldn’t afford for that to happen yet. There were still a dozen things that could go wrong between where you were now and getting Gusin back to the Enchantress.

“Come on,” you told him, indicating the hallway behind you both. “We better go.” 

Jango nodded, putting the disturbed segments of door panel back into place before he followed you. You retraced your steps down the hallway, heading purposefully toward the large main room you had first come into. 

“...’m telling you, I heard a moan,” a voice was saying. You slowed, signaling for Jango to do the same. “I think they’re still busy back there.” 

There was a reply, far too quiet for you to overhear. You glanced back at Jango, dread shared between your expressions. You hadn’t considered the possibility of an audience. In fact, you had been counting on the idea that everyone would be too busy amongst themselves to worry about what you were doing. 

“Fuck,” you muttered. 

Jango managed a wicked smirk despite the grim situation. “Looks like I’ll be taking part of my payment early, princess.” 

“What are you talking about?” you demanded. “We need to throw them off.” 

“I have a plan,” he assured you. “You haven’t decided to be shy in the last few weeks, have you?” 

You leveled him a look. “Fett, if I were any less shy, I would have been arrested on public indecency charges.” 

“Good.” He pushed you - hard. You stumbled into the wall, glaring at him as soon as you had recovered your balance. Jango was on you a moment later, plundering your mouth with his. 

At first, your response was slow and stilted. You knew the group was listening out for you, and you couldn’t know for sure that they weren’t watching you as well. But then Jango’s talented lips and tongue coaxed you to ease into the kiss. You were fully absorbed in less time than you would have believed, participating as intently as he was. 

He broke away, forehead pressed to yours through the thin barrier of two masks. 

“Now,” Jango whispered, “chastise me for grabbing you.” 

You blinked slowly at him. “...you grabbed me?” 

The moment you asked, Jango grabbed a handful of your ass, giving it a healthy squeeze. You made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a squeal. “F-fuck!”

You had recovered just in time to keep from saying his real name. It took an unpretty amount of concentration to remember his assumed name, but you pulled it free of your mind eventually. “Mellac! I did not give you permission to touch my ass.” 

“Sorry, Mistress,” Jango apologized, slipping back into his meek Mellac voice. “Shall I apologize in the usual way?” 

You searched his face, trying to figure out what he wanted you to say. He gave the barest hint of a nod and you repeated the motion decisively. “Yes, you may.” 

Jango lowered himself slowly to his knees. You watched, pulse picking up at the sight, along with the realization of what he was about to do. He unfastened your shorts, sliding the stiff material down your legs before prompting you to step out of them. You had to admit, folding them neatly before setting them aside was a nice touch. 

His groan when he looked up to see you in your black thong underwear wasn’t nearly as fake as the rest of his persona. You couldn’t blame him - dressed only in your underwear, halter top, vambraces, and boots, you felt sexier than you could remember having felt in a long time. 

“Well?” you demanded. “I have other things to do, Mellac.”

Jango bared his teeth at you. A moment later, he had snapped one side of your thong, then the other. As the silky scrap sighed dramatically onto the floor, you crossed your arms and glared down at him. “Now look at what you’ve done. Those were my favorites. To pay for them, you won’t get to come tonight.” 

“Yes, Mistress,” Jango gritted out, bowing his head. 

“Good boy.” The cooing voice was a nice touch, you thought. Jango apparently agreed, since he tossed one of your legs over his shoulder, pushed your hips back into the wall, and sealed his lips to your core. 

He really was good with his mouth, you thought, almost detachedly considering the litany of curses falling from your lips. Jango dove into your core like a desperate man, spreading you open with his thumbs so he could tease your most sensitive places without anything to block his way. 

The whine that burst from you was loud and shameless, your head connecting with the wall even as your hips thrust toward him. Jango obliged the wordless request, stiffening his tongue so he could drive it into you. Your body seized the chance to clamp down around something, milking and pulsing his tongue as if it were something far larger. 

Jango’s mouth pulled away from you and you stared down at him with eyes that you could feel had gone wild with need. He was staring up at you, eyes dark over glossy lips. “Pull my hair, Mistress. Please.” 

He didn’t need to ask you twice. Your fingers were wound through the strands of his hair in the next instant, pulling him into you while you ground your core helplessly against his face. His tongue teased at your entrance, dipping inside just enough to taste you before he moved to tracing the edge of your folds. 

It was a tickling sort of stimulation - enough to drive you to desperation without being enough to push you over the edge. “Mellac!” 

It was a little too close to a plea to have been delivered by a no-nonsense dominant, but Jango salvaged it. He murmured, “Sorry, Mistress.”

You were still trying to recover from the way his voice seemed to vibrate through your core when he fastened his lips around your clit and sucked. The pressure was gentle but insistent, his tongue occasionally darting in to lick a delicate pattern over the nerve cluster before darting away. 

With your leg over his shoulder and his hands holding you open for him, there was no chance that you would escape Jango’s attentions. Not that you especially wanted to, but there were points when it got to be so much that you considered trying to break free from his hold. 

Then he sank two fingers deep into your heat and you stopped thinking of anything else. 

You curled forward over his head, the muscles of your torso tightening against the onslaught of sensation. Your hands were still buried in his hair, leaving nothing to cover your mouth. You cried out at the shock of going from crushingly empty to spread almost too wide in the span of a moment. 

Your walls started to clamp down around his fingers and you used your grip on his hair to pull his head backward, forcing him away from you. Jango fought you for a moment, working to keep his mouth attached to you as you tried desperately not to come. 

Eventually, he let you push him back, pulling his fingers free as he leaned back in his place on the floor. His breathing was fast as he stared up at you, eyes bouncing helplessly between your face and your core. His erection was clear through the thin material of his boxer-briefs, straining against the fabric. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“You did well, Mellac,” you praised, noting the helpless way he swallowed at the compliment. “But you’re still being punished.”

You grabbed the waistband of his boxer-briefs just above the outline of his hardness, dragging it down until the black fabric was bunched at mid-thigh. Jango’s cock sprang free, painfully hard and weeping slightly. Your core throbbed. 

“Don’t come,” you ordered. It was the only warning he got before you sank down onto him. 

Jango had prepared your body well, but the stretch of impalement was still intense. Your jaw dropped as you panted and Jango didn’t seem to be doing much better. When you had fully seated yourself, he half-bucked beneath you. The motion pushed him a fraction deeper, and you had to catch your balance with your hands on his chest. 

“Behave yourself,” you said sternly. “This is not for you. I only wanted something to come around.” 

Jango’s eyes were glued to your fingers as you dropped them between your legs. Your entrance was stretched tight around him, the fullness everything you had wanted, but your clit was untouched and begging for attention. You rubbed two small circles, made a face, and held out your hand to Jango’s mouth. 

“Open.” 

He obediently let his lips part and you placed two fingers in his mouth, wetting them against his tongue. They felt much better against you, then, gliding smoothly over your clit as you circled and petted and rubbed yourself. You had been close to orgasm already, and it took little time to coax yourself over the edge - especially when you could feel Jango’s cock throbbing desperately inside of you. 

“Don’t… don’t come, or- you’ll earn an- ahh! another punishment.” It probably would have been a more menacing threat if your voice weren’t halting and stumbling with the pleasure wracking your body, but you liked to think that you had gotten the point across. 

You convulsed on top of Jango. Your nails dug half-moon impressions into the flesh peeking between the straps of his harness vest, though you managed not to break skin. Your legs were shaking, and it was at least partially from the way you were pushing yourself backward to get yourself as full of him as possible. Your body clamped down, luxuriating at the stretch of him inside of you even as it seemed like it was trying to push him out of your body. 

Somehow, you managed to keep from making too much noise. Your panting breaths and a single moan were the only noise in the hallway. The moan wasn’t such a bad thing, honestly. With any luck, it sounded enough like the one that had left Gusin’s room that the earlier noises were explained away. 

When you were slumped nearly boneless on top of Jango, you lifted your head enough to look him in the eye. His face was tilted upward, focused on the ceiling instead of you. There was just enough time for you to frown at this development before he glanced down at you. His face was reddened and his mouth was tight. “I won’t last, Mistress. Please…” 

You managed to lift yourself off of him, slinging a thigh over to the other side of his hips. Jango’s length glistened with your arousal, just as painfully hard beneath as it had been before. “Get dressed, Mellac. If you come, my punishment will be harsh.” 

Jango laid there for a moment after you had crawled toward your neatly folded shorts. He cursed softly as he pulled his boxer-briefs up over his erection, but he was put together far faster than you were. The stiff fabric of your shorts didn’t make them easy to pull up when you had been sweating with exertion, and it felt deliciously abrasive against the puffy lips of your pussy. You took a moment to be grateful that you were only damp with your own sweat and arousal rather than dripping cum on top of everything else. That would have been an incredibly unpleasant walk back to the Enchantress. 

Before you walked back down the hallway, you pushed Jango to one side, pressing him against the wall so you could lean in and speak directly into his ear. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” he said, his low voice rumbling in your ear. “They’re watching us.” 

“I know.” The thrill of being observed wasn’t one you would go out of your way to find, but it was hitting just right that night. “All we have to do is get out of here.” 

“You should do something else to me,” Jango said. You frowned before you could help it, but you were facing the wall, cheek to cheek with him, so no one could see your expression. “I don’t care what, but... give us a reason to leave.” 

“We have a reason to leave,” you countered. “We’re leaving because I say we’re leaving.” 

“If they think there’s more of a show to be seen, they’ll follow us,” Jango told you. It was a good point. “We have to do something to say that the show’s over.” 

“It’ll be public and probably embarrassing,” you warned. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Someone told me that I should explore a new side of myself.” 

When you pulled back from him, Jango was wearing the smallest smile. You patted his chest, just over where the marks from your nails were slowly fading. “Good boy, Mellac. Now, hands on your head so I know you aren’t touching yourself.” 

Jango bowed his head obediently, placing both hands on the back of his head before he followed you down the hallway toward the main room. 

When you stepped back into the main room, there was a little too much effort to seem like no one was paying attention. Jango had been right about them watching you - not that you had doubted him. 

A lovely female Tholothian approached as you crossed the room. When you gave her a expectant look, she offered you a neatly folded piece of flimsi. 

“My comm frequency,” she explained shyly. “If you decide to take on another submissive, I would like to be considered. I think we would be a good match.” 

You remembered that she hadn’t been standing with anyone earlier. You accepted the flimsi with a graceful nod. “Thank you, beautiful. I’ll keep you in mind.”

There was a subtle silence around the room, as if people were leaving a little more space than usual around their words to listen in. “Mellac,” you said suddenly. “What would you do if I took on another submissive?” 

Jango kept his face aimed downward, hands still on the back of his head. “I would accept your decision, Mistress.” 

“And if I decided to keep her and end our arrangement?” 

“I would thank you for the time you spent with me, Mistress.” 

“Good boy,” you purred, eyeing the way his hardness was still tenting the fabric of his shorts. “In fact, because you’ve been so good for me, I’m going to change my mind. I’ll let you come.” 

“Thank you, Mistress,” Jango said, the words rushing out of him with the quickness of desperation. You weren’t sure how much of that was because he was in character and how much was because he really was on the edge. 

You had noticed a shelf earlier, set into the wall and covered with toys of various types of levels of intensity. You picked up a set of Ben Wa balls. They weren’t quite as heavy as you had expected, but the small control set beside it told you that they had other modes. 

It was a little amusing to see the trepidation on Jango’s face when you turned back to him, but you gave him a wink you hoped was reassuring. With a delicate touch, you slipped one of the balls into his boxer-briefs, nestling it beside the base of his cock. Jango groaned softly at the touch, hips jumping when you gave a teasing brush against him from root to tip as you removed your hand. 

The controls for the balls were not as intuitive as you might have hoped, but the experimentation process was entertaining. You could tell exactly how much Jango liked each sensation by the way the muscles of his torso would clench and jump. Finally, you found the perfect combination: a buzzy vibration that slowly worked up and down in intensity. 

By that point, you had gotten the attention of the room’s occupants. If Jango was uncomfortable with all of the people watching him, he didn’t gave no sign of it. He looked enraptured by what was happening, his head tipped back and his eyes half-closed.His hands were still behind his head, giving a rather excellent view of his cock trapped behind the thin fabric. 

“Is this going to be enough, Mellac?” you asked solicitously. “Or do you need the other for prostate stimulation? If you bend over for me, I’m sure there’s lube around here somewhere.” 

Jango’s eyes widened as he looked at the other ball you held up. You wouldn’t have done it, of course. First, there was no way to get it back out, since there were no connections or handles on the ball. Second, you hadn’t discussed inserting anything anywhere. But no one else in the room knew that the offer was empty, and an interested murmur rippled through the crowd. 

Fortunately, Jango was close enough that the vibrations of the Ben Wa ball were strong enough to tip him over the edge. His hands clutched convulsively at the back of his head, his full lips parting so he could breathe and groan. His torso formed itself into a taut arc as his muscles strained and his body emptied itself into. 

All of the mess ended up inside the boxer-briefs, and when he had collected himself slightly, you patted Jango condescendingly on the crotch. “Very good. Feel better?” 

He nodded, but added, “A little sticky.”

“I know,” you soothed. “We’ll go home and get you cleaned up.”

You turned toward the door, pretending not to see the hungry gazes of the other people in the room, only to find Telde standing beside the door. That so-white smile flashed bright on her face as you approached. 

“Telde,” you greeted, inclining your head slightly. You held up the spare Ben Wa ball again. “I’ll return these after I’ve cleaned them.” 

“Keep them,” she told you. “Consider them a rather poor gift in thanks for the entertainment you’ve provided this evening. You are both welcome back any time.”

“Thank you,” you said, glancing back at Jango. You smiled when you saw the way his hands were still clasped behind his head. “Mellac, you may speak.” 

“Thank you, Telde,” he said immediately. “This is an evening I won’t forget.” 

“I feel exactly the same,” Telde mused, smiling wider. She gestured to the door next to her. “Do you remember where to gather your belongings? Or shall I find you an escort?” 

“We remember,” you assured her. “We hope to see you again soon.” 

When you were safely back in the hallway and grabbed your cloaks, Jango turned around to clean himself off with a handkerchief you handed him. After wiping the Ben Wa ball clean, he tucked it into a pouch sewn into his cloak. 

“Well, I think I learned some stuff about myself after all.” 

“You were a lot of help,” you told him gratefully. “Now all we have to do is circle around, slice into the room, and retrieve Gusin.” 

Jango huffed, following you back into the hallway. “It’s probably a bad sign that fetching Gusin sounds like the easy part.”

---

Author's Note - Like the other parts of my 2024 Fanfic February fics, I'm not sure whether I'll continue this one in the future.

Thank you for reading!

[narumi-gens]

Do I Have Your Attention?

Narumi Gen x f!Reader

summary: Narumi Gen is not only Japan’s strongest, but also its pettiest.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, oral (m receiving), spit kink, some femdom, Narumi being a little shit

notes: I said I wasn’t going to write for a fandom with only a handful of fics for a character who’s barely appeared in three chapters, but here we are. this fic better spawn 100 other Narumi fics because it can't just be me and @/flintstrikes out here thirsting over this trash man.

words: 2.5k

part of the Agents of Chaos series

Narumi Gen and irritation go hand-in-hand.

For as long as you've known the First Division Captain, he's never ceased to find new ways to annoy you. It's something that you've long grown used to.

But this? This is a step too far.

You can handle the all-night gaming. You can handle the mess that he refuses to clean up. You can handle his pettiness and narcissism and lack of respect for others.

What you can't handle, refuse to handle, is his whining about how unfair it is that he isn't trending, his attention focused solely on his phone when it should have been focused on your lips that are wrapped around his cock.

You scowl up at him from your place between his legs, the wooden floor of his office hard against your knees. You're certain that they'll still be hurting tomorrow. And for what? So that he can come as an afterthought?

Aching knees and a sore jaw are worth much more than that.

“Who do these idiots think they are?!” he continues to rant as he scrolls through his feed. “Yeah, it’s easy to talk shit when you’re hiding behind a computer! I’d love to see them say this to my face. In fact, I’m gonna invite them to the base and see how brave they really are.”

The sound of his fingers furiously tapping on his screen as he angrily types out his response before hitting send is so loud that it threatens to drown out the obscene slurping sounds that you make each time you swallow him.

When you feel your eye beginning to twitch even as you swipe your tongue along the thick vein that runs on the underside of his cock, you know your patience is nearing its limit.

The twitch only grows more severe when Narumi turns his phone around and shoves the screen in your face. You're positive that he thinks he's being considerate by moving his phone back and forth with you as your head bobs up and down on his shaft so that you can read the comments without needing to stop what you're doing.

What a fucking gentleman.

Instead of looking at his phone, your glare remains focused on him. Despite how wet your eyes are from the way he's hitting the back of your throat again and again, they lose none of their fire as you still manage to convey every insult and threat that your mouth is too preoccupied to say aloud.

“Can you believe what they’re saying?” he asks as he turns his phone back around so that he can return to scrolling through his feed. The question is obviously rhetorical — not because you can't reply but because he clearly thinks that you agree with him.

He looks away from his phone, but not so that he can take in the sight of you before him, working your hardest to make him spill his cum down your throat. No, he instead looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully, his wrinkled brow hidden beneath messy bangs.

“I wonder if there’s a troll farm out there that’s targeting me,” he considers, a look of satisfaction slowly forming on his face.

Unfortunately for you, that satisfaction has nothing to do with the hand that you're twisting around the base of his cock just how he usually likes. He snaps his fingers and glances down at you with an eager nod.

“That’s it. There’s no other reason I’d be getting this much hate,” he crows. A smug smirk grows on his lips as his scrolling turns leisurely, pleased with himself for uncovering the conspiracy. “I mean, no one actually thinks Ashiro’s the strongest fighter. Not when I’m in charge of the First Division.”

Deciding to get rougher with him, you let your teeth graze his sensitive flesh the next time you swallow him — a warning of what he can expect if he doesn't stop. But the only reaction you receive is a sharp hiss as his attention briefly turns away from Twitter long enough to give you a petulant scowl.

“Hey, watch the teeth, would ya?” he complains before he looks back at his phone and you suddenly find yourself trying to list all of the reasons why it would be a bad idea to simply bite down and be done with the whole matter.

You sit up and let his cock fall from your mouth, sucking his length as you go. Thinking of yourself as the more considerate lover of the two of you, you continue to pump his spit-slicked shaft with your hand. You softly clear your throat.

“Gen,” you say, your voice dangerously cool.

“If it wasn’t for all of these bots, I’d be the one trending right now,” he rambles. “You know that, right?”

You wipe your drool from your chin with the back of your wrist, your hand never once ceasing its smooth movements.

“Gen.”

“Y’know, the Defense Force really needs to do something about this,” he thinks aloud, ignoring you once again. “It doesn’t look good for them if a bunch of spam accounts are harassing their strongest captain. I’m gonna bring this up the next time I get dragged to one of those meetings.”

You dip your head back down to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, deciding to be generous and give him one last opportunity to see the error of his ways. You suck on the tip, flicking your tongue on the spot just underneath the head that always makes him weak.

His hips jerk and his length twitches in your hand, but he otherwise gives no response.

Unwilling to let your own ego take any further hits, you sit back with a huff. You drop your hand and cross your arms over your chest in displeasure. Your anger only grows when he doesn't protest.

“Gen.”

He finally chooses to reply to you with a distracted, “Hmm?”

Everything turns red.

You're moving quicker than you can comprehend, your hand darting out to grab his phone and yank it from his grasp. The action is so unexpected that the device easily slips from his hold and into your vice-like grip.

He gapes at you as you stand up, now the one looking down at him where he sits in his office chair. It's your turn to be the one that's smugly satisfied as he remains frozen, enjoying how much of an idiot he looks with his features having gone slack in shock and his dick still standing hard in his lap.

You raise an unamused eyebrow at him and it seems to be enough to snap him out of his stupor because an affronted expression quickly appears on his face. He hurriedly begins to tuck himself back in his pants before springing to his feet.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” he cries and you easily dart away from him when he tries to grab his phone back.

Deciding to let your actions speak for themselves, you storm towards the large, double doors of his office, fuming every step of the way. He's right on your heels, sounding like a petulant teenager as he screeches in your ears, demanding that you give him his phone back right now.

You shove open one of the doors so hard that it hits the wall with a bang! and before he can stop you, you hurl the object down the hallway. Its trajectory barely misses Hasegawa and Narumi’s new attendant, who both freeze where they are.

You're too busy relishing the sound of Narumi’s phone shattering into pieces that then skittered across the floor, followed by his panicked shriek, to pay any attention to how the short, blonde-haired girl standing at Hasegawa’s side is looking at the scene playing out before her in shock. The First Division Vice-Captain clears his throat expectantly and when your gaze shifts to him, you're met with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

“What?!” you snap and the crazed look on your face has the girl next to him instinctively taking half a step back.

Your attention returns back to Narumi when he tries to push you out of his way so that he can run after his phone. Your hand latches onto the collar of his shirt and you use your hold on him to roughly shove him back into his office.

“Officer Shinomiya and I have business to discuss with the Captain,” Hasegawa states, sounding as unfazed as ever. This is far from the first time he's found himself in the middle of such a situation.

“Is it important?” you snarl, shoving Narumi back into his office when he tries yet again to get past you.

“Yes.”

“Life and death important?” you challenge, already reaching out to grab onto the large handle of the open door. Hasegawa’s resigned sigh is answer enough. “Then come back later!”

You yank the door shut behind you, slamming it so hard that it causes the doorframe to rattle.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Narumi shouts, his arms waving wildly. You grab a fistful of his shirt as you walk past him and drag him along with you as you make your way back to his desk, your pace much less bothered this time around. “Hey! Get off me! That phone was brand new!”

You stop in front of his desk and do just as he asked and release him. He makes a big show of straightening out his shirt — as if it hadn’t already been wrinkled. Meanwhile, you turn your attention to the surface of his desk, which is covered in papers, empty soda cans and water bottles, old manga magazines, and a pile of discarded sweatshirts.

You outstretch your arms and in one, giant sweep, you shove the entire mess off his desk and onto the floor. He gasps in horror, but you give little regard to his new rant about how you've just ruined his “organized mess.”

Instead, you sit down on the desk’s wooden surface with one leg crossed over the other. He starts to kneel down so that he can pick up the mess but you stop him by yanking on the back of his shirt and pulling him to stand up.

“That was a limited edition—”

He stops mid-complaint when you tightly grab his chin in your hand, the tips of your fingers indenting the hollows of his cheeks from how hard they're digging into his skin. His eyes, which usually only vacillate between bored and bloodshot, have turned wild and his pupils have blown wide.

You use your hold on his face to tug him closer, meeting no resistance. You can hear how his breathing has slightly picked up, the excitement surely beginning to thrum in his veins.

“That’s better,” you murmur with a smirk as you brush the tip of your nose against his. Your eyes flash with glee when he tries to take a step closer but is stopped when he meets your knees where they're crossed between the two of you.

“Now, are you going to be good?” you ask, your voice low and full of the promise of what will happen if he dares to do anything but agree — not that he would, not when you're holding onto him with such a firm hand.

There's a flash of pink when his tongue peeks out to unconsciously run over his bottom lip and your thumb chases after it, slipping into his mouth and he eagerly swirls his tongue around the digit. Without breaking your gaze and like he's in some sort of trance, he slowly nods.

You softly tsk and his expression wrinkles slightly in distress at having done something to warrant your displeasure.

“Baby, I think I need to hear you say it,” you coo with wide, imploring eyes. His tongue moves along your thumb even more urgently. “Are you going to be good for me, Gen?”

“Y-yeah,” he quickly rasps, the word muffled as he speaks around your thumb. “Yeah, I’ll be good.”

Your grin grows so wide that if he were in a proper state of mind, it would have Narumi on edge. But he's too focused on how hard his cock is in his pants to care, achingly aware of how he was buried in your mouth not even ten minutes earlier.

You gently release your grip on his chin and slowly slide your thumb from his mouth. He follows it with hawklike eyes, watching as it then disappeared between your own plush lips so that you can suck it clean of his spit.

When you drop it from your mouth, his slightly opens, unconsciously hoping that you'll return it back to his. The action doesn't escape you and you let out a quiet, mocking laugh at his expense.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his parted lips before giving his cheek a patronizing pat, using the hand that was just holding his chin so that your thumb leaves behind a shining, wet smear of your saliva on his pale skin.

“Good boy,” you softly purr and his eyes somehow manage to grow even wilder at those two, simple words. You slowly uncross your legs, spreading them and inviting him to step between them, pleased when he immediately does so.

You then slide your hand up from his cheek into his hair. Your fingers rake through his two-toned strands and push them back from his forehead, only for them to fall back into his face a moment later. Your hand comes to a stop on the crown of his head and you begin to apply pressure — a wordless demand for him to lower himself.

“I think I’ve spent enough time on my knees today, don’t you?” you ask with a hint of amusement and he nods his head in blind agreement, kneeling down in front of you without protest. “It’s your turn, Gen.”

Bonus:

Shinomiya has faced kaiju after kaiju and has never balked once. But for some reason, she finds herself breaking out in a cold sweat.

“S-sir…” she begins, struggling to put her thoughts into words. “W-what was that just now?”

Hasegawa lets out a tired sigh and turns to her, the look of exasperation that he's wearing at odds with the severe expression that she's already grown used to seeing on the man's scarred face.

“That was the Captain’s better half.”

Her jaw drops in disbelief. But it's quickly eclipsed by both horror and disgust when a muffled, high-pitched moan emerges from behind the set of closed doors. A large hand drops to her shoulder to give her a reassuring pat.

“You’ll get used to it,” Hasegawa grumbles before turning in the opposite direction and walking away. When another moan follows the first, she covers her ears and sprints after the Vice-Captain.

For the first time in her 17 years, Shinomiya Kikoru finds herself actively praying for a kaiju attack.

[shig-a-shig-ah]

VERS

» pairing: shigaraki tomura x genderfluid!reader » word count: 5.8k » notes: This is shameless, self-indulgent enby smut written for a target audience of exactly one (1) person, and that person is me. But, as always, likes/reblogs/replies are always appreciated  ♡ ♡ ♡   » contains: reader with a sex change quirk, heteroflexible Shigaraki (he does you both ways), top Shigaraki, coming out, edgeplay, overstimulation, vaginal sex, anal sex, overuse of ‘pet’ as a pet name. 18+, minors DNI. » ao3 mirror

Like my work? Support me on Ko-fi or request a commission.

"We're together, right?"

"What?" The question catches you so off guard that for a moment you forget what you're doing. Before you know it your character onscreen has died, a squelchy, strangled sound blasting from the speakers of the television. Next to you, Shigaraki tosses his game controller to the side, turning a little on the sofa to face you.

"You and me," Tomura says, gesturing between you. "We're a couple, right? I'm your boyfriend?" His voice is flat, and his teeth work at the inside of his cheek as he waits for your answer, visibly tense.

You set your own controller on the coffee table. "I was under the impression you are."

The two of you have never actually discussed labels, but you've spent a lot of time together since you designed the prosthetic to replace his mangled fingers. And it's not just fucking either; you frequently hole up in his quarters - like you are now - to play video games or watch movies or do other couple-y things. After all that, you'd just sort of assumed that you were officially dating.

And you'd assumed that he assumed the same, so you're not sure what to make of this line of inquiry, or the fact that his fingertips are grazing against his neck. "So you're not...seeing anyone else, or anything?" There's a sharp glint in his eye as he spits out the question from between clenched teeth, as though just the idea is unacceptable.

"What? No, of course not." Even if you wanted to, which you don't, you can't imagine how you could possibly do so, when the two of you spend every free moment together. "Why would you ask that?"

Tomura slumps a little, his fingers digging harder at the reddened patches along his throat even as the edge leaves his voice. "I was talking to Toga about you earlier today, and one of the Violet Regiment members came up to say you probably wouldn't like me calling you my girlfriend. But she wouldn't say why."

"Oh." Well, fuck. Even without asking you know who it must have been; there's one woman who always goes out of her way to hang around Tomura, and you've seen the way she looks at him, not even trying to be subtle. You've heard what she says behind your back too, that the Grand Commander of the Paranormal Liberation Front should be with someone who's strong and can fight beside him, not some support tech with a useless Quirk. Tomura, for his part, has seemed entirely oblivious to her interest, so you're not surprised she'd do something like this - even if she was right about your preferences for labels, you know she didn't mention it out of any sort of real courtesy.

You let out a long sigh. No point beating around the bush now. "It was probably because of my Quirk."

"Your Quirk?" His brow furrows, his gaze drifting off as he obviously tries to recall whether your Quirk has come up in conversation before, and when those red eyes snap back to yours then you know he's realizing it hasn't. It's intentional in your case and an oversight on his part, not the kind of thing that would normally escape Tomura's attention, but he tends to find himself more distracted than usual when he's around you. "What is it?"

You chew at your lower lip as you debate the best way to explain. While you don't exactly keep your Quirk a secret, people can get...strange when the subject comes up, making judgmental comments or asking overly personal questions. You still normally try to be up front with people you date - it isn't worth keeping it to yourself only to suffer belated rejections or accusations of dishonesty - but things with Shigaraki had moved quickly, to say the least. He'd been overly familiar during the first fitting for his prosthetic, and downright flirty at the second. Then during his last visit you'd apparently reciprocated a little too enthusiastically, because next thing you knew he was bending you over your workbench and burying himself in your cunt.

You'd had no complaints in the moment, but afterwards things had suddenly felt a little more complicated.

"Just keep an open mind, okay? I normally tell people about it before getting involved, but everything between us happened so suddenly that I didn't have the chance, and then I got worried it would fuck things up if I brought it up and..." You trail off. There's an anxious knot forming in your stomach that's not helped by the way his eyes have narrowed.

"It's just a Quirk," he huffs. "The only thing that's going to piss me off is you keeping secrets for no reason."

"You say that, but you don't know what it is."

Tomura gives you a long, hard look. Then he mutters, "I could kill you, you know."

"What?" You can't help the way your eyes widen, but Tomura just rolls his own.

"It's not a threat. I mean my Quirk - one slip and you'd be dead, but you still let me touch you. So why would it matter to me if yours is dangerous or something? I'm not going care."

The knot in your stomach loosens, but only slightly. In all your worrying about how this conversation would go, you'd never considered that he might think his Quirk was a turn off. But Decay is also very different from your own Quirk, and entirely involuntary, whereas the control you have over yours sometimes makes things a bit more...fraught. Suffice to say, you've gotten some fairly negative reactions in the past when you haven't been forthright.

And now here you are, inadvertently making the same mistakes all over again. You take a deep a breath, let it out slowly. "It's not dangerous. It's not even really useful," you admit. "I can change my sex."

Tomura blinks. "What, like turn into a guy?"

You nod, dropping your gaze so you don't have to look at him. It's not exactly the phrasing that you would use, but it's close enough to make clear he understands, and you prepare yourself for the impending barrage of questions and insecurities. Maybe anger too, since that's what you've sometimes been met with when, thanks to the folly of youth, you'd waited too long to have this conversation with men you were dating.

None of those previous experiences have prepared you for Tomura to simply wave his hand and snort, "Is that all? You made it sound so serious."

Your head shoots up, taking in his expression. He really doesn't look bothered, just slightly incredulous, and a flicker of hope sparks in your chest. You really, really want things to work with him, are far more taken than you'd expected to be with your intimidating yet somehow boyish leader, but in the back of your mind you'd been worried it was too good to be true. "You don't care?"

He snorts again. "Why would that matter?"

"I don't feel like it should, but it has in the past. I've had people not want to date me because of it, or had them ask me to promise not to use it so they don't have to think about what that would mean for them. Or they want to know what I 'really' am - even people I hardly know ask me that. And obviously I was born a particular way," you pause, swallowing hard and trying to work up to being completely honest, "but I don't want that to matter. I don't feel like I'm any more one thing than the other. They're both me."

Tomura nods, and then a distressed look crosses his face as he scratches at his throat again. "Does that mean you've been holding back this whole time? Not using your Quirk because of me?"

You shake your head quickly to reassure him and then stop, nodding uncertainly instead. In a way he's right. "It was just coincidence that I was female the first few times we met about your prosthetic. Then after we hooked up, I still used my Quirk, but I made sure I was always the same way when I saw you. I wasn't sure what you'd think."

Tomura's lip curls in distaste as his hand drops from his neck, his red eyes fixing on you intently. "Don't do that. I don't care."

Despite how emphatically he says it, you still can't quite bring yourself to believe he's being honest, that the conversation you've been dreading for weeks has gone so easily. "Really?"

He nods, his tone going serious. "I don't want you to not be yourself because of me. And sometimes it's complicated, right? That's what Magne said. She..." He pauses, seeming to choose his next words carefully. "A lot of people thought she was a man. But she wasn't."

"Oh." You've heard Magne mentioned before, of course, but that particular detail is new to you. If you'd known, you might have been slightly less nervous about this entire exchange. "Well, she was right. I don't feel like it should be complicated, but people make it that way. But you really wouldn't care if I'm not always the same? Just when we hang out, I mean. I don't expect you to...you know...when I'm..." You can feel your face growing hot as you trail off again.

"I already told you I don't care. Not about that either."

His words give you pause, and you raise an eyebrow, trying again not to get your hopes up prematurely, albeit for an entirely different reason this time. God knows you've thought about that - stroked yourself off to the idea more than once even, that wider ranger of experiences being one of the only tangible perks your Quirk offers - but you'd never expected it to actually happen. "You mean you'd fuck me either way? I didn't think you were into that."

You'd done your best to assess that too, and while asking about prior relationships hadn't helped much, you had taken a close enough look at his video game collection to note the eroges all starred female love interests.

"I've never really thought about it before to be honest, but sure." He shrugs. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not getting fucked. But if it was me fucking you then why not? I like you." He smirks a little, giving you a lascivious look that has your thighs clenching. "And a hole's a hole."

"Y-yeah, I guess so," you mumble. You're not usually this easily flustered, but his crass wording and the way he's looking at you has you unexpectedly, sheepishly heated. That fact doesn't seem to have escaped him either - he shifts forward, pushing you back into the sofa, his arms caging you against the cushions.

"I'll fuck you like that right now if you want," he taunts, his breath hot in your ear, and a shiver runs down your spine.

You really, really want that.

But, you also know you don't want it to be quite so impromptu, so you reluctantly shake your head, even as your hands lift to cling at the front of his shirt. "I'd have to prep for that," you admit. "But later?"

He lets out a throaty growl, nimble fingers creeping up your side to grope at your chest, roughly twisting your nipple through your clothes. "Later for that, maybe," he says, "but I want you now."

His lips catch yours in a hungry kiss, barely giving you a chance to respond before his tongue is coaxing its way into your mouth, feverishly circling your own. The sudden intensity has you reeling, struggling to catch your breath even as his hand is sliding purposefully to cup between your legs, his palm grinding against your clothed core.

You mewl in response, hips already bucking, and he wastes no time undoing your pants, tugging them down over your hips just low enough so that he can tease at your already-soaked folds.

"Someone's eager," he murmurs teasingly against your lips. "Did you get all worked up thinking about me fucking your tight little ass?"

The heat in your cheeks worsens at his words and you try to hide behind your hands, but he only tugs them away, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "C'mon, tell me."

"Y-yes," you nod, and then you gasp as his fingers plunge into your dripping cunt, curling immediately to seek out that sensitive spot deep within. He kisses you again roughly, swallowing the whimpers that escape you when he adds the pressure of his thumb against your puffy clit. Already his efforts have that knot in your lower belly tightening, your teeth sinking into his lower lip as you writhe, inching your way closer to release.

And then he's pulling away, his dry lips stretching into a satisfied grin at the sound of you whining. Tomura sits back on his heels, undoing his own pants, his own firm arousal springing forth. The tip is already flushed red, leaking precum as he strokes himself a couple times. Then he gestures expectantly. "Well? Don't be selfish, help me out."

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him, and you scramble forward at once to take him in hand, leaning in eagerly to run your tongue over the head of his glans. He shudders when you do, his hand coming to rest at the back of your neck, holding you close as you graduate to small kitten licks along the underside of his shaft and around his tip.

"A-ah, that's a good little pet," he hisses when you finally wrap your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing him as deep as you can. Then he chuckles. "I guess now I know why you're so good at this, huh?"

The praise sends your stomach fluttering, and you pick up the pace, lewd, wet sounds filling the room as you suck him sloppily. His hips are bucking, his hand tightening at your nape to guide you as he thrusts roughly down your throat. There's drool starting to trickle down your chin but you don't care, too caught up in the taste of him and the throaty noises he lets out every time the head of his glans pushes past the tight ring at the back of your throat.

All the while the ache between your thighs is growing steadily, slick dripping from your neglected cunt. Your free hand moves to rub at your throbbing clit, desperate for some relief, but two pale fingers quickly catch your wrist, tugging your hand away.

"Tch, so impatient," Tomura says. He stills his movements, the tip of his cock still nestled against your tonsils so that all you can do is give a tiny nod and whine pathetically. Those glinting red eyes scan your face, the corner of his mouth quirking up at the sight of you gagged by his member, eyes watering and spit-slicked lips stretched vulgarly around his substantial girth. Then his hand lifts to cup your face, his thumb stroking lightly over your damp cheek. "You want me to fuck you?"

You nod again, a tiny, pleading noise slipping involuntarily from the back of your throat. Tomura ruts into your mouth lazily a couple more times before withdrawing, wasting no time peeling away the rest of your clothes and then flipping you over, positioning you on all fours before him.

His knee forces your legs a little wider before he settles between them, his cock brushing over your drenched slit, gathering some of that wetness. The friction alone is enough to have you whimpering and canting your hips, trying to guide him to where you need him most, but cruel fingers pinch at the curve of your rear in response.

Tomura clicks his tongue again. "Be good and hold still," he commands. You do your best but don't quite succeed, too flushed and impatient not to wiggle against him the tiniest bit when he glides his length over your folds with excruciating slowness.

It takes all your restraint not to sink back against him when he aligns himself with your entrance, the anticipation enough to send your eager cunt fluttering around nothing. When he finally, finally surges forward, sheathing himself inside you in one quick stroke, you can't help moaning at the sensation of being stretched so abruptly wide.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans. His hands settle at your hips, holding you in place as he starts to move, shallow thrusts that have you mewling, sparks of heat radiating through your sex every time he brushes against the spongy spot deep inside.

Tomura's an expert at working you over by now, angling his hips just right and driving himself repeatedly into your most tender points until you're a gasping mess, your fingers clawing at the cushion beneath you. His balls slap against your sensitive clit with every thrust, sending tension coiling in your gut, threatening to snap, but just when you're about to slip over the edge he changes the angle, repositioning himself just enough that he's no longer hitting the right spot, once again robbing you of your release.

"Tomu," you plead. The word comes out as a choked sob, tears of frustration pricking at your eyes. A soothing hand caresses your back, but his words are mocking.

"Aw, is my little slut that greedy? That desperate to cum on my cock?" He fucks into you harder, slamming against your cervix with each thrust, the angle of his hips still not quite what you need. "Not until I'm ready for you," he rasps. "I want to feel you milking me dry when I fill you up."

You don't respond. Can't respond, can only let out pathetic cries as he pistons his hips faster, your tight heat pulsing around him every time he sinks into you. He reaches around to tease at your clit, rolling it lightly between two fingers. It's just enough to keep you hovering on the edge as he assails your cunt, sucking in sharp breaths every time he bottoms out inside you. His other hand is clutching tightly at your hip, cool fingers digging roughly into that supple flesh, holding you in place so that you can't shift to increase the friction. You're left entirely at his mercy as he ruts relentlessly into you, leaving you a trembling, keening mess.

It's clear that he's getting close - his movements are growing more erratic, his own grunts and swears spilling out more rapidly, and then he's hunching over you, his fingers rubbing at your clit as he pants in your ear. "Are you gonna be a good pet and cum for me?"

You nod frantically, whimpering, "Please please please please," and his fingers speed up. Your core tightens rapidly until you're spiraling over the edge, your thighs trembling and your back arching as you keen loudly, your cunt clenching around Tomura as he buries himself to the hilt. He lets out his own long, strangled groan, his own cock spasming as he makes good on that promise to fill you up.

He slumps over the moment he's stopped twitching inside you, and you hear the faint rusting of his clothes as he tucks himself back into his pants. His withdrawal sends your combined juices dribbling down your thigh, making you grimace, but he tugs you into his lap, uncaring of the mess. His fingertips tracing gentle circles over your flushed skin as you rest against his chest, struggling to catch your breath.

You're entirely spent, your limbs jelly, but Tomura, insatiable as always, is already nuzzling against your temple. "So we're going to this again later, right? The other way?"

The eagerness in his voice has your heart fluttering and the faintest flicker of heat sparking again between your thighs. "If you want to," you pant.

"I already told you I do." He pauses, buries his face against your hair, before mumbling, "I want all of you."

***

Despite his reassurances, you're still a ball of nerves when you return to Tomura's room later that night, showered and changed in more ways than one. You shift your weight back and forth on your feet after you knock, your stomach knotted and your palms sweaty, a thousand worries weighing heavy - that he'll change his mind when he sees you, or worse, that he'll go through with it unenthusiastically, merely trying to placate you.

Tomura ushers you in immediately when he opens the door, and it isn't until you're standing awkwardly in the middle of the room that he stops to look you over, his head cocked as those red eyes scan up and down your new, masculine form.

"I thought it'd be more different," he says thoughtfully. "But you still look like you."

His words help you relax a little. It's true that besides the obvious - the flatter chest and the notable addition between your legs - the differences are subtle. A modest widening of your jaw and nose, slightly broader shoulders and narrower hips, a few extra inches of height. But your eyes and mouth stay mostly the same, and your hair doesn't change at all; if you could stand side by side with your female form, you'd look like siblings bearing a strong familial resemblance and matching haircuts.

You don't really know to respond to his comment, so you simply chew at your lip, waiting uncertainly. Tomura lets out a soft snort and steps closer, leaving only a few inches of space between the two of you. "You're nervous," he says, not without a hint of amusement, and you nod. A concerned look flashes across his face, the corner of his lips turning down. "You've done this before, right? Like this?"

"I have. It's just...been a while." You can feel your face heating up at the admission. It had been a while since you'd been with anyone before him, and now this will be, in many ways, like sleeping together for the first time again. Only this time you've had time to dwell on the idea, to let nerves and excitement both get the best of you.

Tomura lets out a small hum and then tips his head towards the bed, a wordless instruction that you follow quickly, laying back against the pillows, twinges of anticipation flickering in you belly. You expect him to join you, but he stops at the foot at the bed, looking you up and down again.

"Aren't you going to show me the rest of you?" he asks, smirking, and you sit up, swallowing hard before doing what he asks. Your hands shake a little as you tug your shirt over your head and kick off your jeans. You pause after that, shooting him an uncertain look, and he clicks his tongue impatiently. "All of you."

You hook your thumbs hesitantly under the waistband of your underwear and start to peel them down. You've been naked in front of him before in other ways, obviously, but this reveal has you feeling extra exposed. The intensity of his gaze isn't helping - it has your face burning again, and that heat only worsens when your cock bounces free, already embarrassingly hard and dripping.

For an unbearably long moment, Tomura simply stares, head tilted and red eyes gleaming as he takes in the sight of you. Then he's joining you on the bed, settling his weight half on top of you and brushing his lips lightly over yours. "You're cute when you're nervous," he says throatily, and you shiver.

Tomura lifts one hand to caress slowly along your side, exploratory movements that have you trembling under the gentleness of his touch. He watches your reactions raptly, that glint in his eye sharpening steadily as his fingers venture continually lower until they're tracing along your hips, dangerously close to your throbbing arousal. When he finally runs one calloused thumb along the underside of your shift, teasing at that sensitive spot just below your tip, you can't help but let out a tiny whimper, your hips bucking involuntarily against his touch.

He continues those excruciatingly soft ministrations, one side of his mouth stretching into a broad grin as he watches your reactions.

"You're needy like this," he taunts, and then he finally leans in to kiss you properly, sucking and nibbling at your lower lip until you're gasping, then working his scarred lips along your jaw and down your neck, sucking a mark there. You cling at the fabric of his shirt as you squirm beneath him, and when his hand wraps around your length, stroking slowly, your small whimpers escalate to undignified whines, your hips jerking against his hand. "So needy," he repeats.

You can't help it - it's almost overwhelming, how different this is from the ways he's touched you before, or how it feels when you touch yourself. His hands are rougher and his grip firmer, and he squeezes just a little tighter every time he brushes over the sensitive head of your cock. It's a heady combination, made all the more thrilling when you realize this must be how he strokes himself off, that you're getting some tiny peek at his own habits and experience.

You try to return the favor, taking him in hand and massaging his clothed length, but you're too distracted by his touch to do it well, your movements graceless and inconsistent. After another moment he's swatting your hand away, releasing his grip on you so he can tear off his clothes, his own erection jutting impressively out from a thatch of coarse, pale hair.

Tomura repositions you slightly, just enough to rut his own length experimentally against yours, making you mewl. He seems pleased with that reaction, his grin widening as he takes you both in hand, those long fingers wrapping around both your shafts. You swear when he starts to jerk his wrist, fisting you both, occasionally letting his palm graze over your cockheads to spread around the precum beading at your tips.

You let out a stuttering cry almost immediately. The feel of his straining member gliding against your own, the roughness of his hand as he speeds up his strokes, and the slick lubrication of your combined arousals spreading over your skin is all too much, has your balls tightening and your fingers clutching at Tomura's arms as you try to ground yourself. It's no use - the next time his palm circles your sensitive head you're spilling over, your cock twitching and hots spurts of cum splattering against your stomach.

Tomura lets out a throaty laugh. "Needy little pet made a mess," he purrs in your ear, his fingers dipping into the puddle of white on your stomach, smearing it around and then collecting some on his fingertips. Those same fingers lift to prod at your lips insistently until you part them, and then he's shoving his fingers in your mouth, the salty taste of your cum slick on your tongue. He works those digits in and out as you lap and suck, groaning and watching transfixed until you've cleaned away every drop he's fed you.

As soon as you've finished, Tomura is spreading your legs, teasing at your asshole with those spit-soaked fingers, circling and prodding at your tight hole until you've relaxed enough for him to slip one finger in. He keeps his movements slow and shallow, only working himself one knuckle deep to start, but it's enough to have you shaking, pleading for more as you start to loosen up.

You try to direct Tomura to your pants, and the bottle of lube you'd brought, but he's already pulling away, reaching past you and fumbling for something on the bedside table, and when he settles back into place you see him snapping the cap off a bottle of lube that's obviously brand new. Somewhere beyond the haze of your arousal is a flicker of warmth that he was prepared for this, committed to taking care of you and doing it right.

He coats his fingers generously before resuming his efforts to work you open, and it becomes clear that he's made other efforts too. He works another digit in, the feel of his second knuckles breaching the resistance of your tight hole making you gasp, and then he's bending his fingers inside you, obviously seeking out something in particular.

You cry out when he finds it, the pad of one finger brushing against your prostate, and he lets out a satisfied growl, focusing his attentions on that sensitive spot. It has your cock swelling rapidly, your hands fisting at the sheets beneath you as Tomura works his fingers more roughly, pausing only briefly to add more lube, and a third finger. He scissors those digits, stretching you wider, and your hips jerk to meet his thrusts.

His attentions have you twisting and moaning, a sheen of sweat coating your heated skin as white hot pleasure swells up deep inside, all while he watches you with that lusty smile, seemingly captivated by the effect he's having. He thrusts his fingers deeper, leaning in to slot his mouth against your own, his tongue tangling greedily with yours, a thin strand of saliva connecting your mouths when he finally breaks the kiss.

"Think you're ready to take me, pet?" he asks, and you nod instantly, all too eager to have him inside you, to feel that intoxicating fullness. Still, you let out a feeble whine when his fingers withdraw, leaving you agonizingly empty, and you don't miss the look of satisfaction on his face at that.

You watch through glazed, half-lidded eyes as he generously lubes of his cock, and then he's positioning himself between your thighs, shoving your knees to your chest so that you're spread wide and ready for him. You moan immediately when he begins sinking himself into your eager hole, your hips rocking up to meet him even as the intensity of the stretch has your face scrunching in slight discomfort.

Tomura's watching your reactions closely, pushing through the initial resistance that tight ring of muscle offers and only pausing when the head of his cock is firmly inside you. "Fuck, you're so tight," he hisses through gritted teeth. "I wasn't expecting it to be tighter."

He's panting, fingertips digging roughly into the backs of your thighs as he holds you in place, unmoving while he gives you time to adjust. Even having worked you open with his fingers, his girth feels like it's stretching you impossibly wide, and you suck in deep breaths, trying to relax. When you feel ready, you give a small nod, canting your hips to encourage him to move.

Rocking his hips, Tomura starts to work his way deeper. They're slow, shallow thrusts at first, Tomura only pushing deeper when you've loosened up a little, and he lets out a pleased growl when the entirety of his length is finally buried inside you, his hips flush against your own. Your heart flutters in your chest again when you take in his expression, the pink flush of his cheeks and the thrilled curl of his lips, all making it apparent your worries were unfounded - he's obviously getting off on this.

Tomura resumes his efforts, fucking into you for real now with long, rhythmic strokes, making small adjustments to the angle until he finds the one he wants, the one that has you crying out as he brushes against that tender ball of nerves inside with every thrust. Everything else goes hazy as you lose yourself in that sensation, unable to focus on anything except the heat pooling in your gut and the exquisite feeling of him stretching you wide.

"Tomu- oh god, Tomu, I-" You're sobbing, unable to form a coherent thought as you cry out his name, and that only has him rutting into you harder. He traces one finger along the underside of your aching cock, and then takes it away just as quickly.

"Can you cum untouched?" he asks breathily. "I read that can happen."

"I don’t- I don’t-" I don't know, is what you were trying to say, but you already have your answer, can feel yourself hurtling towards your release, and you nod frantically. "I'm gonna...fuck...gonna c-cum, I-" And then you're cut off as your orgasm hits you, white spots flashing bright behind your eyes as every muscle in your body seizes. Your toes curl and your cock spasms, painting your stomach white as you let out a long, discordant wail.

Tomura hisses in satisfaction, not relenting in the slightest as he fucks you through your peak and beyond, still brushing against that now overly-sensitive spot with each thrust. Your entire body is hot, quivering as he continues to assault your overworked hole, your cries growing more desperate and strangled with each overwhelming stroke.

"Shh," he pants, "You're doing so good, you, a-ah, you take me so well." His pace grows harsher, his own strangled growls and groans spilling forth each time he bottoms out inside you. It has tears pricking at your eyes, pleasure and discomfort rippling through your body in equal measure as he pushes you into overstimulation, but beneath all that you can feel his ruthless attentions shoving you towards another peak.

Tomura's hips are starting to stutter, his movements growing more frantic, and he grips your already half-hard cock, jerking you in time with his thrusts. "Fuck I'm- fuck, I'm gonna cum, gonna fill you up. That's what you want, right pet?"

You're nodding, crying out, nothing but a blubbering, overstimulated mess beneath him as he fucks you mercilessly, and then you're cumming again, your body going rigid as you shoot another load weakly onto your messy belly. Tomura's not far behind, only managing another handful of short, erratic thrusts before you can feel hot spurts of cum flooding your insides, his cock twitching and throbbing as he climaxes. He manages a couple more faltering thrusts, shoving his seed deeper, and then he's slumping on top of you, drawing heaving breaths.

After a moment his hand lifts to brush some of the dampness from your cheeks, his lips finding yours in a lazy, sloppy kiss. You're still panting raggedly, only just starting to come down from your high, but Tomura's wearing a look of obvious gratification as he softens inside you. He lifts one hand to brush the dampness from your cheeks, his lips nuzzling contentedly along your jaw and up to your ear. "Damn, pet," he whispers, rolling slightly so he can wrap his arms around you, "you were really holding out on me."