#id be a brat 24/7 just for him 💃

[manjiroscum]

SPOILED PRINCESS — IMAUSHI WAKASA.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ imaushi wakasa x reader — 2.3k words — wakasa thinks you act a bit too bratty for attention

≣ contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, jealous! wakasa (of benkei), (slightly) insecure! wakasa, semi public sex (in the gym after hours), he sucks your tits bc that's what i want you deserve, begging, unprotected sex, creampie, use of pet names (princess + baby (and brat lol))

≣ notes ⋮ idk everyone always writes shin jealous of waka, but i present to you all: waka jealous of benkei. anyway i am so ill over him i would eat my own liver for one chance with him

“are you done yet?” you whine, and wakasa is sure that this much eye twitching must be bad for his well-being. if he’s being honest, he’s sure you must be bad for his well-being at this rate.

“no,” he grunts, continuing with his paperwork.

wakasa figures running a gym is as lucky of a job as he’ll get. he’s passionate about fighting, even if he doesn’t always seem it—and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t think he can ever forget his glory days. he doesn’t think he can ever move on from the fights and the rush of adrenaline, so he stays as close to fighting as he can, even if it means running a gym—but paperwork always comes with owning an establishment, and he’s no exception.

you, on the other hand, seem to hope he is.

“waka, you said fifteen minutes,” you grumble, “and that was forty minutes ago.”

“it’s taking longer than i expected,” he grunts.

“then save it for another—“

“babe,” he grits his teeth, making you pause as you hear the warning tone in his voice. it makes you pout, crossing your arms as you huff and turn your nose away from him. “i have to finish these papers.”

“fine, i’ll bug benkei then,” you grumble. you’re petulant in your tone, it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but he doesn’t say anything as you march out of his office.

at least he’s granted some peace—and fewer distractions as he works means working faster, which means more time with you.

but then he hears it. it’s quiet at first, he doesn’t seem to notice as he speeds through his papers, but there’s the sound of your giggles that has to be exaggerated. he scoffs, eye twitching before he slams his pen down and wanders off to the gym, eyes instantly finding you, boring into your figure as he watches you grin down at benkei.

“now you’re just showing off,” you shake your head, and wakasa’s vein all but pops as you stare at benkei’s arms as he bench presses…whatever insane weight he can bench press.

wakasa has a soft spot for his friend, he really does—but he can’t help the bitterness creeping up and hunching over his shoulders, weighing him down as he watches you enjoy your time with his friend. and being impressed, no less.

“you’re the one who bet i couldn’t handle the weight,” benkei chuckles, curling his arms up and down with ease, making wakasa’s lips purse unhappily.

why do you look so happy to be occupied by benkei of all people? why are you so shocked a man his size can handle that much weight anyway? wakasa has never been too jealous…but benkei, benkei is a sore spot.

there’s something gnawing at him—something heavy and weighted and spiteful that the same man he once rivaled is the same man you’ve chosen to spend your time with while he’s busy.

“it was a joke,” you snort, “you seem like you have something to prove, though—” you’re cut off by the clearing of your boyfriend’s throat, making you turn your head at him, brows raised like you weren’t expecting his intrusion.

the idea that he’s intruding on a moment between another man and his girlfriend leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“thought you were heading out,” wakasa eyes benkei, watching as the bar gets set down before his friend sits up.

“i was,” benkei nods, “until someone whined about being bored,” you have the audacity to look sheepish when benkei gives you a pointed look, making wakasa’s teeth grit. “you’ve got a handful with this one.”

“yeah, seems like it,” wakasa grunts. if benkei notices the slight hostility in wakasa’s tone, he chooses not to mention it. instead, he rises, offering a good-natured smile before flicking your forehead gently—a gesture that makes wakasa clench his jaw.

“well, see you both tomorrow,” benkei waves off before making his exit, leaving your attention to fall on your evidently unhappy boyfriend. you raise a brow, making your way over as your thumb runs over his tightened jaw.

“you seem tense,” you mumble gently, “waka, what’s wrong?”

“what’s wrong?” he raises a brow, making your hand retract with a slight flinch at the sharpness of his tone.

wakasa doesn’t think he’s a guy who lacks confidence—in fact, he likes to think he’s a rather self-assured guy. he’s never lacked attention, never doubted his appeal or his charm, never had trouble getting the attention he craves should he crave it at all. but something about you feels different—something in him yearns to be more than a pretty face, something important.

and benkei is gentle, soft and comforting under the exterior, someone who can carefully cradle you like a jewel in the palm of his hand. wakasa isn’t sure if he can compete with that—as much as he hates the thought. there’s a small ounce of guilt that pangs in his chest for doubting you—you who cups his face like he’s the earth’s core under your palm, you who kisses his nose like he’s warm rays of sunlight against your lips, you who offers him love even if you have to peel away layers of yourself to give him what you think he deserves.

so he grunts, eyeing you with a lazy glare that makes your head tilt in confusion.

“baby, you’re—”

“want me to call benkei back so he does some push-ups? maybe he’ll let you sit on his back,” he grumbles, jealousy seeping through his words before he can stop the flow. you have the audacity to chuckle, like this is funny, like it’s nothing serious.

“so you do have a jealous side. good to know,” you tease, pinching his cheek. he grunts, swatting your hand away as he glowers at you, taking a step back when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. “don’t be stubborn,” you furrow your brows, “it was just benkei. he’s your friend—”

“don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” he shoots back, “need my attention so bad, huh? well, you got it,” he growls.

wakasa’s lips are on yours before you even have a chance to process his words—they hungrily devour you like he’s a starved man, lost in his own deprivation. you can only gasp against his mouth as he nibbles and sucks on your bottom lip, pressing his firmly against you like he’s knitting himself along your seams.

“w-waka, someone could—”

“we’re closed,” he cuts you off, hand snaking up your shirt to knead your breasts. you gasp, fingers curling tightly around the fabric of his shirt as his lips wander to your neck, sucking sweetly along your pulse point.

“but the sign hasn’t been—”

“don’t care,” he says simply, “gonna fuck the brat right outta you,” he speaks lowly against your ear, making you shiver as he reminds you, “you wanted this.”

you did want this—you just figured it’d be in the comforts of your own home. but there’s something uncharacteristically needy in his demeanor, something that makes it hard for you to deny him. so with a shaky moan, you tilt your head to give him more access to your neck, letting him scatter wet kisses along your skin and suck marks where he pleases.

you’re not sure when he even stripped you of your clothes, his movements a blur as he has you sprawled against the same bench benkei laid just moments ago, hovering over you and raking his eyes over your bare chest. his lips latch onto your nipple in an instant, making you gasp as your fingers tangle into his hair, tugging at the strands when his tongue rolls over the pebbled bud. you whine when his hand cups your other tit, thumb running over your nipple before squeezing it.

“waka,” you moan, hips bucking up to rub against his clothed erection. he groans against your chest, slotting a knee between your legs and giving you a small bit of the friction you crave. “p-please—”

“please what,” he raises a brow, “you were whining my ear off just a bit ago. use your words now.”

there’s a whimper caught in your throat when his fingers press against your heat through your underwear, thumb rubbing circles over your clothed clit and making you huff frustratedly for more. a small part of him feels satisfaction that he’s able to rile you up with so little.

“please waka,” you pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. your lips are right against the shell of his ear as you speak, “please fuck me—wanna feel you,” you whisper, hips rubbing against his straining cock once more.

with a groan, he slides your underwear down your legs, freeing his pulsing cock from the confinements of his boxers. your hand reaches to wrap around his length, smearing the pre cum around the tip before stroking him slowly, pulling a low groan from him as his head falls to your shoulder. turning, you press a gentle kiss to the side of his head, squeezing around his tip as you stroke your fist up his length. you drag your fist along his cock a few more times before he stops you, forehead pressing against yours as he looks at you with hooded eyes. 

“you’re fuckin’ mine,” he says lowly before bringing the blunt head of his cock to your dripping entrance, sliding along your walls and collecting your slick along his tip. you whine, head falling back against the bench as your legs wrap around his waist. 

“yours—all yours. please, n-need you, waka,” you plead, and with a low chuckle, you feel his cock inch past your folds, curving into you perfectly as he bottoms out. you groan into each other’s mouths, panting through labored breaths as he gives you a moment to adjust. 

each roll of his hips feels like electricity running up your veins, making your hips cant up and meet his thrusts and your hands fist his long tresses, tugging at the roots when he angles his hips and slams against your sweet spot. you feel his thick veins glide against your walls, adding to the friction of his cock bullying into you slowly, hard and deliberate. 

“this what you wanted?” he coos, grabbing your cheeks with one hand and squeezing them together, grinning down at you as he takes in the fucked out expression on your face and the haziness of your eyes, “wanted me to fuck you in my own gym? drop everything to make you cum, huh? ‘s that why you were whinin’ so much?”

“wak—oh, fuck,” you gasp, mewling when his other hand travels between your bodies to harshly thumb your clit, making the steady ache to your orgasm build. he hisses as you clamp around him, the warmth of your walls encasing him like a tight hug, your slick coating his thick girth as the squelching sound of him fucking into you echoes through the empty gym.

“what, you can’t speak, baby?” he grunts, thrusting sharply into you, making you sob as tears cling to your lashes. he’s cruel with his pace, not faltering in his movements as the fat tip of his cock kisses your spot over and over again. “so fuckin’...s-spoiled—like getting fucked like you’re spoiled?”

“‘kasa ‘m close,” you whimper, making him growl against your jaw as he nips at the skin. he’s sucked enough spots into your flesh to make him grin down at you satisfied, eyeing the marks with a pleased glint in his eyes.

“yeah, i bet you are,” he grins, “cause i know how to fuck this pussy, don’t i? anyone else make you feel like this? hmm?” his thumb presses down on your clit harder, making you cry out as you pull at the strands of hair combed through your fingers.

“no, jus’ you—jus’ you, waka,” you wail, making him hum with a satisfied grin. 

“sound so pretty when you’re crying for me,” he groans, hips rutting sloppily against you as he approaches his high, breath heavy as he pants against the crook of your neck, burying his head against you as he lets out a needy moan. “sound even better when you’re cumming—gonna cum for me, princess? let go, baby.”

his words are enough to make your lips part with a silent scream as you cum, hard. your hands trail to his shoulders, nails digging into the skin as you gush around his cock, making him groan brokenly as your walls spasm around him. he’s panting erratically into your neck by now, but a needier part of him forces himself to wrench away and stare at the way your face breaks with pleasure. he groans at the sight, voice cracking as he grunts your name when his own orgasm crashes over him in waves. 

“f-fuck, baby—feel so good,” he rasps, “shit, ‘s so good.”

you feel the warmth of his cum spilling into you, each hot rope painting your wall with every twitch of his cock, his hips desperately rolling to fuck you through your peaks. you feel his arms tremble as he hovers over you before he collapses onto your body with a soft moan as he finishes. 

you let his face dig back into your neck, humming quietly when his plants a light peck into your skin. 

“i like when you’re jealous,” you say cheekily, “we get to do this.”

“i hate when you’re a fuckin’ brat,” he grumbles, “don’t talk to benkei. he’s weird and annoying.”

“that makes two of you.” you giggle when you feel him bite at your shoulder lightly, hand threading through his sweaty locks as the other runs along his bare back in slow circles. the bitterness in his mouth from earlier dissipates as the honey trickles through his lips when you pull his face to give him a sweet kiss. “but you don’t have to be jealous,” you murmur softly, “i love you. even if you ignore me.”

“love you too. even though you don’t shut the fuck up.”

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