Ony's Baby

" 𝗦𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗲 𝗙𝗼𝗿 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗮, 𝗕𝗮𝗯𝘆 "

18+ MDNI | wc: 6k, renji abarai x black!fem reader, bleach!renji, curly haired reader, tattooed!renji, established relationship, unprotected sex ( protection. always. pls!!! ), drunk sex, public sex, elevator sex, blow job, standing sex ( couldn't think of an actual position for this ), teasing, exhibitionism, pussy & dick personification, pet names, daddy kink ( sorry not sorry ), midnight shenanigans, creampie, slight aggression, power dynamic (?), overstimulation

tags: @h3avenlyglory @jellywrites1218 @aizawash0e @blond3ang3l @kaorus19

─────────────────────

The bass from the club was still thumping in your chest by the time you two stepped onto the elevator. With the alcohol in your system, there was a low, vibrating hum that mutated into a sudden wave of desire. 

You weren't usually this forward…or, the one to push the pace.

Normally, Renji took the lead—you liked being the one who went with the flow, letting his quiet dominance dictate the pace, melting into whatever rhythm he wanted. 

But tonight? Watching him lean against the handrail on the opposite side of the elevator, buzzed and looking utterly edibleー festered a thirst that didn't wanna die.

His tall, tatted frame was dressed in all black, the fabric stretching tight over his broad shoulders any time he moved. His red hair was falling into place over his shoulders in a half up, half down hairstyle, a few wild strands sticking to his damp forehead. 

Around his thick neck were his signature dog tags clinking softly against his chest, catching the buzzing fluorescent light of the elevator car.  He was quiet, eyes half-lidded, looking lazy as ever, and completely trapped in his own drunken bubble, just waiting for the car to move.

The sight of him—so massive and so effortlessly delectable and sexy—sent a sharp spike of arousal straight to your core. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him. Every nerve in your body recognizing him before your mind could catch up. 

With the scent of his cologne and your sweet body oil clinging to your skin, it felt as if the elevator itself had shrunk, pressing the two of you into a pocket of thick tension.

Your pulse kicked harder against your ribs, each beat a sharp, desperate reminder that you were still breathing— well… just barely. 

The buzz beneath your feet was mechanical, but it carried through your body like a second heartbeat, syncing with the pressure that had been building since the doors closed shut. 

Then impulse took over. 

When the elevator moved a few floors down, that's when your hand moved before thought could catch it─ slamming right against the red emergency brake button. 

The elevator lurches to a halt between floors. The warning bell sputtered to life letting out a dull drone that filled the air for a heartbeat before dying into silence. 

The quiet that followed was suffocating, strain building as you could only hear your own breathing become uneven in your ears.

Renji blinks slowly, his lashes heavy as he looks up at you. Confusion flickering across his face, then melting into something mischievous—a lazy, knowing grin tugging at the corner of his lips, the kind that made your stomach twist. 

He didn’t speak right away. 

He just watched you, allowing the silence to stretch until it felt unbearable. 

When he finally speaks, it's a rough register, the sound scraping through the quiet like a match struck in the dark. "What're you doing, pretty?" His words were lilt and slurred, his voice deep and hoarse from the booze and the shouting over the club speakers.

You couldn’t find the words to respond. 

The coil pressed down until it took over— dropping to your knees on the cold floor, the shock of it grounds you as your hands find purchase against the hard muscle of his thighs, gripping the dark fabric of his pants to anchor yourself in position. 

The second your sultry gaze met his, the confusion in his eyes vanished. Unmistakably swallowed by something much darker, and driven by desire.

You were a beautiful mess. A total hot mess—with your hair falling loose around your face, lip gloss smearing and mascara smudging slightly under your eyes─ this kind of mess felt like it belonged in a fever dream.

With this unwavering, feral of a glare, something unspoken filled the air between you. Your stare holding him captive, resembling a creature entirely possessed by hunger. A feline poised to strike. He went still under your grasp, jaw tightening, every muscle drawn taut as he caught the dangerous twinkle in your eye. 

Observing the smooth yet gradual glide of your tongue tracing between your glossy lips, your gaze switched between the heavy bulge in his pants to his piercing glare.

You could feel the physical weight of his stare as his hands worked at his waist, unbuckling his belt with clumsy urgency before shoving his boxers down just enough to let his girthy erection spring free. 

The visual impact was immediate─ your mouth instantly watering at the delicious sight. His dick massive, slightly curved and alive with tight veins pulsating visibly beneath the hot flesh. There was an intense throb blooming deep inside you that left you hollow and aching in response. 

He was so thick, pink head smooth, already glistening with a clear bead of precum. His shaft twitched in hunger, reacting the exact moment the faint warmth of your soft, needy moan brushed against it.

Leaning in close for a taste, the unfiltered heat radiating off his skin hits your face. You took your time handling him with excruciating care. Having no intention of rushing, but wanting to torture him just a little. Wanting to see just exactly how much control you could strip away from him while he was trapped at your mercy. 

By slowing down your breathing, you extended your tongue out, dragging it slowly up the sensitive underside of his shaft. Tracing the raised veins from the thick base all the way up to his swollen crown. Your pink muscle began to swirl in tight, wet circles around the ridge, tasting something salty and sweet linger on your tongue.

Entirely paralyzed by the view, he marvels at the sight of your tongue teasing him so ruthlessly. Giving just enough to make his lower stomach clench, yet hold back exactly what his body was begging for. 

From the weight of your touch, a low, persistent thrum flares deep in his groin. Testing his remaining patience, wanting nothing more than to break past your teasing lips. Your name leaves his lips. His knuckles going white, fingers locking around the elevator handrail with a pleading grip to keep himself from moving. "C'mon, princess," he grunts. His chest heaving under the black shirt, gaze pinning yours with hooded, blown-out eyes. "Stop playing and just take me already.”

Pausing, you accept the challenge.

A wicked smirk tugging at your lipsー you didn’t make him ask twice, knowing if you did, he'd make you pay…but, where was the fun in that? 

So, you kept your gaze fixed on him. Your jaw unhinging, opening wide, and catching the thick tip between your lips, letting him gradually slide right at home. Your warmth inviting, consuming every ounce of him with gradual deliberation. 

“S-Shit, y-yeah…that's it,” Renji cursed, eyes screwing shut as you dropped all restraint. 

The elevator car was immediately filled with sullied sounds of you slurping and slobbering around him. your tongue swirling relentlessly over the sensitive tip, tasting the musky rush of his precum hit your tastebuds. The friction of your tongue gliding against the smooth underside sends a shockwave of pleasure straight to his core. Having him tightly grip the bar as a low, helpless moan rip from his chest, "M-More, baby…Give me…m-more."

The heavy expanse of his calloused hand came down to the crown of your head, his long fingers tangled deep into your curls, guiding you with slow, heavy precision─ anchoring you as your swollen lips dragged tightly up and down his length.

Your hands squeezed tighter, your eyes fluttering shut as you focused profoundly on the guttural sounds of his grunts. You continued to bob your head in a relentless pace, your brows furrowing with the effort as your muffled moans sent wet vibrations straight through his length. Thick strings of saliva stretched shamelessly from your lips. Dripping off your chin to create small, wet puddles between your knees on the cold floor.

His grip in your hair tightens just a fraction, fingers flexing against your skull as you take him even deeper, the suction of your mouth pulling a ragged breath right out of his lungs.

"God, you're ruining me…" he rasped, his hips winding forward a little. Gaze thoroughly hazed with alcohol and pure ecstasy, he glances down at you in awe, cooing sweetly, "Look at you... down on your knees for me. deep throating me…so fucking…perfectly. Pretty mouth was made just for me."

Even as he showered you in breathless praises, the words only fueled your fire, doing nothing to check your speed or calm the raunchy echoes off the elevator walls. 

Your nails stayed buried in his flesh, tracking the exact second his muscles jumped and locked up completely—his body turning rigid as the friction pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuuuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, w-wait—" Renji choked out, his voice dropping into a desperate register. 

His hand shifts on your head, his palm pressing down a little firmer, forcing you to hold him deep in your throat for a grueling, motionless second. "Hold it right there. Just hold it... shit... if you keep moving like that, I'm gonna paint the back of your throat before you even realize it."

That’s the whole point…right?

​You looked at him through a haze of damp lashes, your brow lifting to throw his own warning back in his face. Your smudged, tear-stained eyes stayed challenging, teasing. Deciding to play it on your terms, Your gazes lock, your tongue began to map the stretch of his thickness, the veins beneath his length, your cheeks sink in sharply consciously relaxing your throat to swallow him down to the absolute hilt.ー Even pinned to the floor, you were single-handedly driving him insane, choosing out of brattiness to ignore his desperate plea,  

"Ah, s-shit—I told you to…w-wait," he growled, his voice breaking completely.

All traces of gentleness went out the window. 

And because you were driven by the alcohol, the tension of the space, and the sheer perfection of your mouth taking him like a champ, completely snapped his little to none restraint. 

His large hands locked into your hair with a tight grip, no longer anchoring you but demandingly commanding the depth of your mouth. Submissively taking in the filthy, chaotic encounter—the wet, loud squelch of his cock sliding past your slick lips and your involuntary, muffled gags─ obscenely filling his ears with a lawless melody. His hips beginning to roll forward in short, heavy thrusts, plunging his veiny dick deep into your throat as a way of claiming defeat.

A dark, breathless laugh scraped past his throat as he caught your amused glare. "You think it's funny, huh? Is this what you wanted? You like knowing…you got me…s-shit…completely fucked up in this damn elevator?" His fingers tangled tighter, his posture turning rigid as his lower stomach began to coil tight, your head is pulled into an angle allowing him to do whatever he wants, eyes rolling back with tears streaming down your face

"Keep that same energy, baby. Because the second you're done, I'm pinning you against that handrail and I'm fucking you senseless.”

​You maintained the grueling pace without a single shred of mercy. His veiny hands anchored your head in place as you greedily bobbed up and down, your throat relaxing just enough to take him before an involuntary gag buckled around him. Above you, Renji was completely finished. His head falling back hard against the mirrored wall, eyes rolling shut as the sheer, suffocating weight of the pleasure threatens to steal the strength right out of his legs.

As his head rolls lazily to the side against the stainless steel, his blurry vision catches a sharp glint of glass in the upper corner of the ceiling. A small, black dome is plugged right into the corner of the enclosure. Its tiny red light blinking periodically, capturing every single angle of your mouth sliding over his cock. 

For a fraction of a second, the reality of it dawns on his alcohol-soaked brain. 

A freshly awakened kink rises beneath his skin, and a dark, wicked smirk spreads across his face. He lets out a slurred, heavy moan. "Ooh, shit..."

Glancing back down at you, his eyes fix on the way your throat swells as you deep-throat him, taking him so far back that his heavy pulse is hammering directly against your tonsils. 

Something in him wants to tell you about the camera, wants to talk dirty to you about who might be watching them right now, but the words catch entirely in his throat. He can't speak—not when the friction is getting this intense, not when his lower stomach is tightening into a hard knot, and he knows he’s about to bust a load right down your throat.

"Don't stop,” he grunts out, his fingernails scraping against your scalp. “Right there… stay right there… I’m c-coming, baby, I’m—” 

He was coiling up fast, his breath coming in shallow, ragged pants through his nose. His words cutting off short into a sharp, strangled gasp as his body finally hit the point of no return. The veins along his arms and neck stood out as his body went completely rigid, his pelvis locking forward as he buried himself to the hilt in your mouth.

The car had gone quiet, soon flooding with the raw sounds of you gagging. His eyes were screwed shut, his teeth gritting as a low, guttural grunt tore from his chest. 

As he began to rut forcefully into your mouth, driving his cock deep into your mouth with unyielding thrusts. His dick twitched violently inside your mouth, his navel tightening hard as he felt the first wave of his orgasm violently erupt.

Sticky jets of his hot seed hitting the back of your throat with a sudden rush,his navel tightening hard as jet after jet of thick cream flooded your mouth making you swallow every ounce. You took it all without hesitation, your throat working automatically to gulp down the sheer volume of his release.

"Fuck... fuck..." His voice broke into breathless whisper, panting out as he held you still for several agonizing seconds, pinning your face flush against his pelvis while his cock throbbed out the last remaining twitches of his climax. His chest heaved, head thrown back against the elevator wall, riding out the numbness of the ecstasy crashing through him.

Slowly, his grip in your curls relaxed, his thick fingers gently sliding through the strands as he allowed you to pull back. He watches you closely, finally letting him slide free, a thick string of saliva mixed with his cream stretched from your lips to the glistening head of his dick. 

You heaved just a little from the blowjob, your eyes scaling north of him through your smudged lashes to his eyes glaring down at you. Completely spent from the mess you made around his dick.

His hooded eyes were full of dazed wonder, observing how you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand─ despite the ache in your throat─ a satisfied smirk returned to your face as you sexily lick the sticky remnants of him from off your lips. 

He let out a long, shaky exhale by the action. A slow, lazy grin spreading across his face as he reached down to pull you up on your feet. 

-----

He didn't waste a single second after you pulled off his cock to grab you by the waist, securing his large hands deep around your flesh as his lips locked with yours, tongues gliding over one another in a messy, breathless clash. With sudden surge of strength, he hoists you straight up off the floor, your back hitting the cold wall with a hard thud. Your legs wrapping automatically around his thick hips, locking yourself firmly in place.

You didn't have a minute to catch your breath between mouth-watering kisses, before you felt his hand slide down your sides. His warm fingers reaching beneath your already bunched up skin-tight dress, his fingers impatiently hooking into the thin, useless string of your thong, and dragging it over your left ass cheek. The sudden exposure leaves you completely bare before him— puffy brown pussy soaking wet, clenching on nothingness as you drip with arousal.

Lining himself up perfectly with your leaking hole, a consuming heat floods you as he buries his tip into your canal, watching in pure fascination as you take every inch of him. With inner walls expanding, accommodating and tightly molding themselves to the devastating size of his girth. Your fingers scrambled for purchase against the wall, finally gripping the cold handrail behind you as the sudden, overwhelming fullness made you arch your back. "Aww, s-shit~”

A weathered growl tears from his throat, sinking only halfway in, his forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder as he felt your core clamp around him mercilessly. 

“S-Shit, mama…you're so damn tight. squeezing me like a fucking vice”

He held you securely, your legs spread wide around him, giving him complete, uninhibited access to your heat. Your pussy tries to swallow him deeper, wanting more than what he was stubbornly willing to offer.

The deep contrast of his sex meeting yours was a scandalous swirl of pure pleasure, lucid noises becoming obscene as his balls kissed against your perineum with every punishing impact, leaving thick strings of your shared, sticky fluids to stretch and echo against the metal walls, creating a slick lube that allows him to easily thrust in and out of you.

“God, look at you...so fucking wet…hah…so drenched for me.” he purred, his eyes glaring straight down between your bodies, his hands shifting and gripping underneath the curves of your knees for extra leverage to wind his hips against you, burying himself a few desperate inches deeper.

“F-Fuck, Renji,” you whimpered weakly, pure pleasure pricking at your walls as you stretch more around him. “You feel so fucking good. So deep.”

“Fuck, you’re taking all of him so beautifully. His sweet babygirl.” he murmured, his glossy eyes tracking the slick, wet slide of his shaft brutally bottoming out against your cervix to prove it, his pelvis locking flat against yours as you let out a breathless gasp. The leverage beneath your knees becomes a useful tactic to launch into a flexible, punishing rhythm that makes the entire elevator car shudder.

Renji doesn't even attempt to pace himself, let alone give you a minute to just register everything before he put his dick to good use. 

To be honest, he really didnt give a fuck. 

He was drunk out of his mind, the causality of this all was thrown out the window the moment you were driven by unadulterated lust. Wanting nothing more than to feel your warmth surrounding the very thing that needed you. He didn't wanna waste another second, not when his pretty pussy was begging for him just as much.

With you pinned up against the wall and his massive frame towering over you, intimidation made you feel so small and yet so weak before him. The impact of his demanding strokes made your body tremble, hands tightening around the railing to keep yourself upright, getting harder and harder to grip by the minute.

But eventually, you feel it, The crumpling. The numbing pleasure. The constant, repetitive ache deep in your pussy. Your eyes nearly crossing when you feel the sharp jab of his tip kissing directly against your cervix. His length brushes past your G-spot in grueling strokes, creating obnoxious, smacking noises against your shared skin. “Ah, fuck daddy, right there,” you moaned, feeling the intoxicating heat blooming in your lower belly.

“Mmhm…that's it. Open up for me, baby. There you go… yeah that's it. so sweet for Papa. Just loving me so good,” he pants, his forehead coming down to meet yours, admiring with a stifling stare as his dick buries itself inside you and pulls back out, observing how the syrupy substance grows more gushy and silky by the second.

“Deeper, daddy, deeper….” you whimpered softly, your pleas coming out breathless. “Please...I wanna feel all of you.” He didn't hesitate to give you what you wanted, watching as all seven inches of him fill you to the brink, stretching your walls to their breaking point. “Yes, yes─” for a second your words halt, your jaw dropping in shock by the newfound depth of him, pounding into your cunt persistently like he was aiming for his target. Your eyes instantly rolling back in glory. “hah!─ yesー fuck yes! Keep going. Don't stop!” Your head tilts back when you feel his body press even closer against yours, adjusting his angle a little more. 

His face lowers just at the side of your face. His nose nudging below your jaw, dragging down the sensitive length of your neck to plant open-mouthed kisses over your heated flesh, gradually feeling where your pulse point thrums, hearing the moany pants escape from your lips and fan over his ear.

“Pretty pussy killin’ me,” he growled hoarsely against your pulse. “C’mere, hold on to me right here…yeah, like that. There you go,” with you still pressed against the wall, his bulging arms moved further underneath your knees, his hands scaling down your backside to cradle the fat of your ass cheeks, remotely holding you up just as much while he plunges into you.

A whiny, high-pitched gasp tears from your lungs, the exhilarating rush of pleasure making you lock your arms tightly around him for dear life. “Oh… my— fffff-fuuuck!” Even with your vision completely blurred, the sudden, overwhelming burst of vitality forced tears to spill past your tightly clenched eyelids and track down your flushed cheeks. 

Your mind short-circuits, finding it impossible to form a single coherent word while your voice box rendered entirely mute. As your lashes flickered helplessly, staring past his shoulder, you were in utter awe by his steady strength— the way he’s holding you suspended while driving into you without a single shred of mercy. 

It was entirely different. It was new. It was a sensory threshold you’d never crossed before, and it instantly became your favorite thing. Your brain completely dissolved, leaving zero room for concentration as he fucked you like a fragile doll, leaving you shattered and beautifully broken.

 “R-Ren...ji…!” His name is fractured into a helpless sob against his skin. In response, his pace grows ravenous, his hips snapping with sudden, relentless cadence that threatens to split you in two, all while he mutters unravelled praises against your earー words that made you feel like the goddess that you were. 

His face hid in the hollow of your throat. Hot, frantic breaths hitting your exposed chest, raising immediate goosebumps across your skin. Clinging weakly to his broad shoulders, the sharp acrylics of your nails digging hard into his skin. A low hiss escapes his teeth as your nails leave crescent indentations through the cotton of his shirt, the pain only making him thrust into you harder.

You couldn't think. You couldn't hold yourself up. You couldn't fight the weight of him when every instinct was begging you to just melt and mold yourself into his chest. You wanted to be taken. You wanted to be used ruthlessly, to feel completely suffocated by his possessive love while he stayed buried balls-deep in your soaking heat. 

You were dying for him to finally break—to paint your walls with his creamy cum and leave a thick, milky ring around his shaft with every single unyielding rut.

"Oh, god..." The thought tore a whimper from your throat. Your head tossed back, revealing your neck to his hooded gaze, spotting the deep maroon marks littering your flesh, to then drift back to your fucked out face. Crying from the intense rapture crashing through your body. 

Renji savores it, captures it and presses his lips to your skin to resume his ministrations.

But as your head rolls to the side to give him better access, your unfocused gaze suddenly catches a shape in the upper corner of the ceiling. You squint through the haze, your eyes locking onto a tiny black dome nestled comfortably in the corner. A small, rhythmic red light blinking steadily right at you—like a sniper keeping its target pinned.

You blinked hard, trying to blink away the fractured clarity, trying to clear your head to ensure you weren't losing your mind, but the camera remained exactly where it was. 

Your eyes widened by slow increments. 

The sudden realization twisting your expression into something intensely aroused yet deeply terrified. Your heart skips a panicked beat as a sudden, dirty spike of adrenaline floods your system at the same time.

"R-Ren– ren–ji?" you utter, your voice trembling as he slams into you again and again and again, hitting your sweet spot so demandingly that your toes curl tight against the soles of your heels.

“F-Fuck… yes, baby?” he groans in response. His eyes shut tight, forehead resting heavily against your shoulder while his hips maintain their unforgiving rhythm.

“R—Renji… there— there'sー oh god, fuck!” you yelped aloud. You try to avert your gaze from the ceiling, your cheeks burning with humiliation that only seemed to spike your arousal to a dangerous threshold. “T-there's— there's a cam-eraahh!”

You expected him to react.

You expected him to stop everything and just silently freak out.

But unfortunately..

Renji doesn't do shit.

In fact, he doesn't even pause. 

Not once.

He just continues his due diligence like a good boy, pounding his hips forward, balls-deep before letting out a rough, breathless laugh against your neck.

"Heh…yeah… I know."

Your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

You dug your fingernails hard into his shoulders to force his attention, a sharp flash of annoyance spiking through your panic at his sudden casualness.

“You know?!” you echoed, shocked.

“Yeah… spotted it… earlier,” he murmured, entirely nonchalant.

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “You knew this the entire time and didn't think to say anything?!"

"Nngh, fucking christ─ how the fuck could I…when I was balls deep in your throat, baby?" he slurred out, his voice thick and dripping with satisfaction as he hoisted you higher, tilting his hips to adjust his angle. "I was too busy… tryna bust a nut."

“Y-you… fucking… ahh—asshole!” you gasped, your knuckles tightening as you clung to him, your body completely betraying you by clamping even tighter around his length.

A cocky smirk spreads across his face as he almost pulls all the way out, letting the cool air hit your dripping wet folds, before slamming back in so deep you feel it in your chest. 

“And yet…” he rasped, his dark eyes locked onto your ruined expression, nose nudging against your own teasingly. “...this asshole’s bouta make you cum, huh?” 

Right now, that camera was the least of your problems, unfortunately.

With his eyes heavily tracking the sudden, desperate shift in your body. His bottom lip rolled between his teeth, completely failing to hide his dark amusement as he captivates the sight of your face contouring into something so purely sinful, forgetting about the device entirely. 

He narrows on the visceral feeling of him rearranging your guts. Letting out a low, mocking coo against your ear, loving how completely wrecked you looked when you were this disheveled—so whiny, so desperate for release as you hovered at the brink of a climax.

His control becomes rigorous, mischievously taking into account the pathetic way your pussy frantically squeezes and clampes around him, mapping the exact moment your mind breaks. 

Your words become slurred, speaking a continuous, mindless loop about how good he was making you feel. demanding that he piston into you faster, harder, stroke after crushing stroke, feeding his ego to the point of pure poise. Not that he ever lacked confidence, but hearing those broken confessions tear from your throat under such forbidden circumstances turned him on tremendously.

It was all so overwhelming, the sultry way you spoke to him—making you feel like a slut just begging for it, completely undone in your own right. Your man gave it to you so well, making you feel like the only girl in the world the way he puts it down. 

He had every access to your body, every advantage, every soul bearing trick that could make you tick, he worshipped you like a vice, loyally not caring the slightest if his devotion made him look like a fucking simp. 

You were his woman─ his map to intimacy and exploration. He was a dope fiend for your touch, addicted to your body in every way possible.

“Damn, daddy…you're f-fucking me so good,” you cried out helplessly, your hips instinctively rolling forward to meet every hard slam of his pelvis.

“Mhmm,” he smirks, his nose brushing against your own before leaning in to devour your lips.  Your fingers playing frantically at the nape of his hair, your mouth parts, inviting his tongue to slip inside, gliding loosely against your pink muscle, effectively catching and swallowing every high-pitched moan you let slip. 

“So perfect,” he panted mid-kiss, his pace turning fast and frantic as his veiny hands grip your ass tighter to shove you down onto his length over and over again, the heavy plap! plap! plap! of his skin slamming against yours bouncing loudly off the walls.

“You love me fucking you like this, don't you?”

“Y-yes… s-so… fucking… much!” you sobbed quietly, the friction forcing a delicate weep from your chest as you clung to him.

“Uh huh, I know,” he murmured, a low, breathy smirk brushing against your damp jawline. “I could tell…should do this more often, hm? I love how pathetic you look right now. My sweet, pathetic baby, so fucking needy for me. Just begging to cum, aren't you? Don't worry, baby... I gotchu... You're getting close— I can feel it.”

The heat in the elevator becomes suffocating, your sweat mixing with his as the climax rushes up on you like a freight train.

"R-Reni─!" you whined loudly. “I'm.. I'm─”

Renji’s jaw clenches, feeling the quiver of your walls starting to twitch and squeeze around his dick, locking his arms beneath you to piston into you with everything he had.

“Uh huh, give it to me, doll," he rasped, his breath hot against your smeared glossy lips. "Give it all to Papaー”

The command barely left his lips before your body fractured. Clamping around him like a shell, crying out an unrestricted moan as your orgasm tore through you, sending waves of blinding pleasure straight to your brain.

"Oh, baby—" Renji moaned, head snapped back in exhilaration, jaw locked so tight the veins in his neck stood out like thick cords. He didn't stop moving. He couldn't. If anything, your climax made him lose his mind. His thrusts turned into short, taxing jolts, strokes so deep you could feel the weight of his balls clapping against your soaking entrance, sending an overstimulated sensation to your clit. 

“S-Shit, renjiー please!ー S’too much! S’too much!ー” 

At the end, his body locks up. Lodging himself to the absolute hilt as His own climax breaks through filling you to the brim. His fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass with a bruising grip, pinning you flat against the wall as his body grows tired, finally blowing the rest of his load.

His pants against your ear were hot and ragged, his entire frame trembling from the sheer force of the release. He stayed there for a minute, pulsing heavily between your throbbing walls, The elevator remained dead silent, save for the sound of your combined, exhausted breathing. 

After a long minute, a low, breathy chuckle vibrates against your collarbone. "Jesus, kitten."

Slowly, his head pulls back from your shoulder, wild red hair brushing against your cheek. A shaky exhale escaping, feeling the adrenaline finally start to cool in his veins  

"You're gonna be the death of me.” he muttered, a lopsided grin on his face as he looks at your tired face, makeup smudged and curls out of place.

You grunted, unable to say much more while still trying to catch your breath. Your head shifts to his shoulder listening to the frantic, hammering of his heartbeat.

Renji holds you a little longer, cradling you until you calm down, placing kisses at the side of your face and neck. He took long, deep breaths of your scent, his large hands shifting from your ass to your lower back, arms encircling around you while your thighs tried to wrap around him tightly, holding you in place against the wall for leverage. He smiles gently, loving the feeling of you anchored to him.

"You good, mama?" he murmurs, his voice still low and gravely against your ear, his thumb tracing a slow line across the soft flesh of your hip

"Mhm,” you respond weakly.

A chuckle slips from his lips, raising a brow in concern and curiosity, “You sure?” he asked again before pulling away to get a good look at you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“Y-yeah,” you nodded, meeting his gaze. “My legs are just shaky is all," you whispered, smiling, a lighthearted laugh catching in your throat. 

He smirks, “yeah, well…you might not be able to walk for a week.”

Slowly, he slid his length out of you. The sudden absence of him making you whine softly, immediately feeling his warm release begin to drip down the inside of your thighs. Renji carefully lowers you back onto the floor, but he doesn't let go of you right away. He keeps one solid arm wrapped firmly around your waist, bracing you until he is sure your knees wouldn't buckle.

You leaned back against the wall, putting your clothes back into some semblance of order with shaky fingers. Renji stands right in front of you as he shamelessly tucks himself back into his pants, zipping them up and buckling his belt with practiced ease.

Once he was decent, he looked back up at the corner of the ceiling. The small black dome of the security camera still there, obviously, blinking its red light away like nothing had happened. 

A sly grin is pulled at the corner of his mouth, and casually he reaches up, lifts a hand and flips the lens a lazy, cocky middle finger.

"Hope they enjoyed the show," he muttered, turning back to you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Your eyes instantly rolled. 

"Shut up renji.” you groaned, feeling the embarrassment come back once again, pulling the end of your dress down past your hips. “I still can't believe you knew and didn't say anything.” You grumbled under your breath, “that’s so embarrassing.” Your hands coming up to your burning face as the reality of what you’d just did fully crashing over you.

He just laughsー a rich, malicious echo bouncing around the small enclosure. Stepping up to you, he reaches out, wrapping his large hand around your wrist to gently pull your hands away from your face.

"My poor baby, so embarrassing, huh?" He coos mockingly, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, humming at the taste of him still on your tongue before reaching past you and pressing his palm onto the red emergency brake button again.

The elevator gave a sudden jolt, the warning bell silencing as the mechanical thrum kicked back to life. The car finally beginning its smooth descent down to the lobby.

“Tch,” You scoffed, glaring between his eyes and lips that were still giving kisses. “You’re really enjoying this, huh? You think it’s funny.” 

“Mm, a little.” He gives a one sided shrug, still smirking. “You just make it too easy to enjoy.” 

Your eyes rolled at that, muttering, “oh, please…” while your arms crossed under your chest. 

Renji slides his arm back around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his massive frame whispering against your hair, "Let's get you home.” watching as the floor numbers tick lower on the digital display.

Boyfriend!Clark Kent x BlackFem!Reader

☆┇a taste of the story: Clark has been working hard to get his paper on the front page of the Daily Planet, he wants the story to be perfect, only problem is he doesn't realize how perfect he is and you are willing to show him, just how perfect he is.

☆┇ingredients & calorie count: this sweet treat includes 2.4k+ word servings, hints of dom!fem!black!reader, girlfriend!reader, clark not knowing how perfect he is, boyfriend!clark, focusing on clarkie’s pleasure, hand job,use of nicknames (hun,honey,baby and princess), male receiving 18+ MINORS THIS IS NOT THE BAKERY FOR YOU!

☆┇mika's notes: hi my loveliesss, i am slowly making my return and I HAVE MISSED YOU ALL!! I kinda like the way this turned out, but as always y’all let me know! alsoooo big shoutout to my lovely @liliacsdelight for beta reading and always lending a helping hand 💗!!

One thing about Clark is that he is determined, determined to help people any way he can, always there just on time and recently he's been working on a paper for Daily Planet for weeks.

first they’re a little cocky, your hand tugging on their phat dick. honestly it’s a regular hand job. they’re moaning with a smirk on their face until their balls tighten and you stop a little to see it twitch until you spit on it once more and start tugging fast do that smirk drop and a frown comes above.

and the cum shot is long, splashing on your titties that sat nice in your navy blue lingerie.

the second you start stroking your hands on him again does he twitch and shake. It’s a lot because it’s surprising, it hurts a little but feels good more.

he’s laughing a little but it’s almost like he’s trying to hide the pain. “uhn f-fuck.” he keeps repeating it, over and over “ah- fuck- fuck!” and when he comes a second time you give him no break to start again.

you have to grip his dark harder because he has gotten so wet, his cum squelching between your fingers it’s frothing up at this point.

and now he’s in straight sweet agony.

his hips are thrusting, his spine is arching and gosh…his voice is wrecked.

“It f-fucking hurts!” , “god it feels so good b-baby.”

“I don’t know if I can cum anymore.” but he always cum, even if the cum shot is shorter because your draining his balls repeatedly

and you’ve gotten so wet, you decide you’re tired of hearing him fuss so you go and sit on his face reverse cowgirl so you can still stroke his dick.

that might have been the quickest he came. he’s licking you up, whining into you all while sniffing up your scent.

his thighs are squeezing together but you know he still wants some more cause his dick stay getting bigger, stay getting wetter, and stays getting harder.

“you can give me about 2 more yes?” you whisper and he whimpers.

GIMME BACKSHOTS

wc- 2.541k(with no plot)

Pairing: Soft dom! Geto x Sub! Gojo x Hard dom! Reader

Summary- After an amazing date at the carnival with your boyfriends, you got ‘excited’ on the car ride home, and once you got inside? Well, none of you could move by morning.

A/n: SOMEONE PLAY HEADSHOT BY RJ PASIN!!! A part of my Gala Of Pride event, you know, cause I'm gay and stuff. WHO LOVES TO PEG A MAN?! MEEEE!!!(I've never been in a sexual situation)

Taglist: @mtcloudsworld, @aizawash0e, & @jellywrites1218. (My beautiful moots who encourage my filthy writing, love them!) Official taglist: here

CW- Mature content, OOC(Geto, I feel), humor(crack), I kinda rush into the smut cause I'm really like that, not much dialogue cause I get into the dets, m/f/m, BLB, intoxication(reader & Gojo), dub-con(drunk sex), fingering through the panties(?), loads of sloppy kissing, spit, strap-on action(reader 2 Gojo), sandwich situation & Eiffel tower situation, oral(Geto receiving), pegging, P in V❥ unprotected(no diy), hands-free cumming(Gojo), several orgams, cum eating(Gojo), praise(Geto) & degradation(reader), gentle ending/aftercare, crying from pleasure(Gojo), ass smacking(reader 2 Gojo), we're going to hell, etc.

Geto watched you two with a grin on his lips—watching Gojo stumble while laughing because of his intoxication and you slurring and drunkenly giggling.

A complete hot mess.

The three of you made your way to the car, moving through the crowded walkways of the carnival. Screams, laughter, and music echoed through the mall parking lot, and the smells of carnival food made your stomachs curl, but your mouths watered.

You lost track of how many rides you and Gojo had been on, then how many drinks you had after them, then how long Gojo was throwing up in a bush because he decided it was a good idea to go on a ride that dropped him down from sixty feet in the air.

Geto watched the whole thing in amusement, you two and your odd behavior enthralled him in ways he wouldn't admit. Geto had no choice but to be the responsible one in the relationship, you were a party girl and so was Gojo. You two could stay up all night bar hopping, recklessly driving, making out, and trying new foods if he didn't step in and make both of you settle down.

WLW

ೃ1,667 words, excerpt from After Hours, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), fingering, dirty talk, bent over the countertop->standing doggy position, squirting, dity talk, degradation, praise, spanking, making out, petnames/name-calling (e.g., baby, slut¹, bitch¹, baby girl), etcೃ

ೃ࿔ ͙✟ 18+ 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑫𝒐 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕 ✟ೃ࿔ ͙

The humid storm from the night before had left the air inside the diner cloying and thick, smelling of old grease, bleach, and the sharp, clean scent of rain coming off the street. Outside, the early dawn was a low, murky green, the overcast sky pressing against the plate-glass windows and drowning the intersection in a heavy, gloom. Inside, the only light came from the neon sign vibrating in the window and the amber glow of the heat lamps behind the counter, pooling across the laminate surface like spilled syrup.​

You were bent over that counter, your chest flat against the cool, smooth surface, your spine arched so high it made your lower back ache. Your skirt—part of the uniform you’d been forced to wear—was bunched up around your waist, leaving your bare hips exposed to the damp chill of the room. Your panties were gone, kicked somewhere into the shadows beneath the stools.​

Behind you, she stood firm, her pelvis pressing directly against your ass. She had two thick, long fingers buried deep inside your cunt, her knuckles riding hard against your opening as she worked you with a steady, punishing rhythm. You were so sensitive from what she’d done to you the night before, your internal walls already raw, swollen, and aching with a relentless, throbbing heat. Every micro-movement of her hand felt magnified, a sharp, electric shock that went straight to your thighs.​

You were moaning loudly, a constant, breathless stream of noises tearing from your throat, echoing off the empty booths.​

Smack. Smack.

​

The sudden, stinging cracks of her palm against your bare ass cheek cut through the hum of the kitchen. You jolted, your belly scraping against the counter as your thighs trembled violently.

​"Keep your fuckin' voice down," she scolded, her tone a low, harsh rumble right against your ear. She didn't pause her fingers; she just dug them in deeper, her thumb rubbing hard against your clit. "You're a noisy little bitch today. Look out there. If someone walks past that glass right now, they’re gonna see you face-down on the counter with my hand between your legs. "​

do i have baby fever?… absolutely

✮⋆˙. ‎ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you'd been raving about it for weeks, in hopes that maybe this could be it, that this could be the man of your dreams...or not. After clocking out for the night, your law partner finds you outside by a flower vendor, dressed in your finest. He's pretty curious as to why though when you should be accompanied by another...

warnings: wc: 3.7k ! higuruma hiromi x black!fem reader, black!fem lawyer, friend!hiromi, fluff, intimacy, slight angst but comfort in the end, failed date, the act of being stood up, making out, law partners, friends to lovers.

part two

𝒜ℱ𝒯ℰℛ three hours of sitting alone at the restaurant, the reality of being stood up finally settled in. You left the table and began walking aimlessly, eventually stopping at a flower stand a few blocks away. The city was loud, frantic with the constant drone of idling engines, the overlapping conversations from nearby outdoor seating, and the sharp bark of a dog created a dense wall of ambient noise. Though the evening humidity was high, the warm air pressing against your skin, it did little to alleviate the frustration tightening your chest.

You looked over the buckets of flowers, thinking that buying a bouquet might help brighten your mood. It was a pragmatic attempt to salvage the evening—a small, tangible act to counteract the feeling of wasted time and effort.

The stand was positioned directly beneath a flickering streetlight that cast a harsh, rhythmic glow over the display. You scanned the rows of flora, your hand hovering over the various arrangements without making contact. Nearby, the vendor worked with efficiency, trimming stems and stripping thorns with a pair of rusted shears. His movements were rhythmic and preciseー a sharp contrast to the restless energy you felt. You watched him, envying the simplicity of his task. You wanted something to occupy your hands so you wouldn't feel so conspicuously alone in your fuchsia, corseted dress—a garment designed for an audience that never arrived.

You compared the options: the deep reds of the roses against the stark, clinical white of the lilies. You considered how they would look in your apartment, calculating whether their scent would be enough to neutralize the sterile silence of a night spent alone. You were still weighing the cost and aesthetic value of the selection when a voice behind you interrupted your thoughts.

"What are you doing out here?"

The voice was low, controlled, and immediately recognizable. They spoke softly at first, almost uncertain, like the speaker wasn’t sure if they should interrupt. The sound cut through the noise of the street, familiar enough to make you turn before you even thought.

There — still dressed in his professional attire—a dark, well-tailored suit—though he had made adjustments to the heat by loosening his tie and unfastening the top button of his shirt. He stood with his usual heavy posture, his briefcase gripped in one hand, looking every bit the man who had just finished a twelve-hour shift at the firm. A few strands of black hair had escaped his normally disciplined styling, falling over his forehead. You caught a faint whiff of his cologne mixed with city air. He looked tired but composed, carrying the day’s weight quietly. His expression softened when his gaze landed on you.

You could tell he was reading the situation before he spoke, trying to figure out what brought you out here.

And for a moment, the disappointment sitting heavy in your chest eases.

He slowly stops a few steps away, careful not to intrude. “I thought you had plans tonight,” he added. His tone lacked judgment, carrying only direct concern. His gaze drops briefly to your dress before returning to your eyes.

"I did…" you replied, forcing a short, dry laugh that didn't quite mask the irritation. "Until I realized I was being stood up.” You then gesture vaguely down the street, toward the restaurant. “I waited…but he never showed.”

You attempted a casual smile, but it was stiff

And Higuruma noticed. He always did. He’s heard you talk about this date for weeks, He had seen the preparation, the uncharacteristic nervousness, and the way you had joked about your own expectations. Now, he was seeing the failure of those expectations.

Seeing you deflated made his expression shift. A faint crease between his brows deepens, and his mouth tightens before he speaks. “I’m sorry he did that.” The words are simple, but they land heavier than they should. His tone isn’t pitying but it does make you feel seen.

"It's fine," you shrugged, shifting your weight. "Probably for the best."

You tried to dismiss the topic, but Higuruma remained stationary, his gaze lingering on the details of your appearance — hair pulled back neatly, lilies tucked into the bun. The corset dress you chose for the date was a deep fuchsia that moved softly when the breeze passed by, it fitted you perfectly in all the right places, emphasizing the bust of your breast and the curve of your hips. You looked beautiful in every way, and he knew it. Though, he doesn’t say it. He just stands there, quiet, taking in the details like he’s memorizing them.

His eyes shifted to the corner of the stall, catching the exact moment your gaze drifted toward a specific bouquet of vibrant crimson blooms. You had failed to realize he'd noticed that fleeting glance and without hesitation, he stepped toward the vendor, pulled his wallet from his pocket, and slid a bill across the counter. “When the man began reaching for change, Higuruma gave a subtle wave of his hand. "Keep it," he muttered.

When he turned back, the flowers were already in his hand, held out to you.

He waited until you took the bouquet, his hands then disappearing into his pockets as he watched the surprise register on your face. His gaze followed the way you held the blooms close to your chest, the paper crinkling softly between your fingers — the only sound in the quiet that had settled between you. As you looked down at the paper-wrapped stems, the tension in your frame finally began to dissipate.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. He just observed you glaring at the petals, blinking back the surprise at his gesture. The smile came slowly, tugging at the corners of your mouth until it was full and genuine.

When your eyes finally met his, he didn’t look away or try to fill the silence with small talk. Instead, he cuts the distance between you, offering a bent arm your way—a quiet invitation. “If you’re not too bummed out,” he said softly, “I know a place nearby. Good wine, quiet atmosphere. You might like it.”

You looked at him—really looked at him—in the uneven light of the street. You had spent years working alongside this man, navigating complex filings and grueling trials. You knew his habits, his work ethic, and his dry sense of humor. But at this moment, the professional boundaries felt thinner than usual. The way he was looking at you wasn't just the look of a concerned colleague. It was focused, intentionally warm, and entirely present.

"Hiromi," you said, your voice regaining its usual spark as you used his given name. "Are you asking me out on a date?”

He gives a small, knowing smile. “If you think I’m good company, and can get your mind off that asshole, then yes. I’m asking you out.”

You reached out, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow. The wool of his suit was cool under your touch. "Such a gentleman, Mr. Higuruma," you teased as you fell into step beside him.

“Only when the situation warrants it,” he replied, adjusting his pace to match yours as you stepped away.

The walk to the wine bar unfolded at an easy, deliberate pace. He was mindful of your heels, shortening his long stride without a word until your steps fell in sync. He kept to the outside of the sidewalk, a quiet barrier between you and the hum of passing traffic.

Gradually, the tension of the day began to slip from your shoulders.You found yourself talking — about the chaos at the firm, the client who had called five times before noon, and the exhaustion of trying to keep up with a schedule that felt designed to drain you.

He didn't offer empty platitudes or try to pivot the conversation to his own day. He simply just listened, his attention locked on you. Nodding occasionally to show he was following the thread of your frustration. His presence was grounding. the physical contact feeling like an anchor with your arm looped through his, the rough wool of his suit jacket brushing against your skin.

As you passed a small neighborhood park, the scent of damp earth and freshly cut grass mingled with the faint floral notes of the bouquet you carried. He fell silent for a moment, the city noise fading into the background as he caught another trace of your perfume — subtle, lingering, and unexpectedly intoxicating.

He’d spent years looking at you across mahogany desks and stacks of legal briefs, admiring your mind and your sharp instinct for the law. But seeing you now, dressed in silk and framed by the soft, evening shadows of the city, made those professional boundaries feel incredibly thin.

You caught him watching you from the corner of your eye, his gaze lingering on the soft contrast of your features — the sweep of long lashes against your cheekbones, the warm glow of your skin, the faint cherry sheen of your lips. There was something quietly intent in the way he looked at you, as if memorizing a canvas. He didn’t look away immediately. Instead, he let the moment stretch, causing a surge of heat to rise in your cheeks.

"You're staring, Hiromi," you teased, your voice a little softer than usual.

He exhaled a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. "Can you blame me?"

You shook your head, trying to maintain your composure. "You're supposed to be subtle about it. We are professionals, after all."

He glanced down at the pavement for a second, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth before he looked back at you. "I was trying to be subtle. You just happened to catch me."

"You're terrible at hiding things," you murmured, looking ahead so he wouldn't see how much the comment affected you.

“Maybe I don’t want to hide it,” he said.

The bluntness of his words broke the easy rhythm between you, leaving a charged stillness in its place. You looked up at him, and for a moment, the city seemed to fall away — sirens fading, the low rumble of the subway dissolving beneath the grates. All that remained was the click of your heels against the concrete and the soft rustle of paper around your flowers. The air felt suspended, your breath catching as the weight of his gaze settled on you.

When you reached the wine bar — a discreet spot with wrought-iron fixtures and windows fogged by the warmth inside — Higuruma opened the door and held it for you. His hand found the small of your back, a light, guiding touch that carried a quiet sense of protection. Inside, the air was rich with the scent of aged oak and dark fruit. The lighting glowed low and golden, cast by thick candles flickering on every table. He led you to a secluded corner near the window, where the streetlights outside shimmered faintly through the glass.

You carefully placed the bouquet on the empty chair beside you, the crimson paper crinkling softly in the quiet booth. Across from you, Higuruma settled into the leather seat, leaning back as he loosened his tie another notch. In the amber glow of the bar, the rigid tension he usually carried in his shoulders finally seemed to dissolve. A comfortable silence settled between you—a shared breath of relief after a long day.

When the waiter arrived with a cheerful grin, asking what special occasion brought you in, you offered a small smile and deferred to Higuruma. He took the lead with practiced ease, ordering a bottle of wine and a few appetizers to start. As the waiter disappeared into the shadows of the bar, Higuruma found himself leaning back, his eyes tracing your silhouette.

You were looking out the window, arms crossed over the table with a posture that still held a trace of the day’s lingering armor. The city’s night lights washed over you, catching the twinkle in your eyes as you watched the world rush by. The natural glow of the evening illuminated the sharp, elegant lines of your profile, casting the deep warmth of your skin in a soft, cinematic light.

Watching you, a quiet frustration stirred beneath his calm exterior. He couldn't wrap his mind around the lack of logic in your earlier disappointment; why anyone would fail to show up for a woman like you was a mystery he couldn't solve. To him, you weren't just a partner or a friend, you were a rare combination of sharp intellect and a heart that didn't flinch in the face of adversity. You were brave, possessing a quiet strength and a heart of gold that he had seen you extend to others time and time again. You were beautiful and brilliant. And in that moment, sitting in the dim light of the wine bar, he realized he was more than happy to be the one who actually stayed.

"You deserve better than someone who doesn’t show up," he said quietly, his voice full of genuine sincerity.

"Maybe," you said, turning to look at him across the table. A small smile curls at your lips as you ponder for a moment. "But, I think the night turned out okay anyway."

Without a word, Higuruma nodded. His gaze held steady as he reached across the table, fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The motion was deliberate yet unforced, so natural it almost felt instinctive. The brief contact sent a quiet shiver through you — your breath catching, pulse quickening — but you didn’t move. Even after his hand withdrew, the warmth lingered. He looked as though he hadn’t planned the gesture, yet there was no trace of regret in his expression either. You glanced down at the table, trying to steady yourself, but his eyes never left you.

The conversation flowed easily, the kind that didn’t require effort or pretense. You moved through a bottle of wine, drifting between topics — dissecting the flaws of past trials, trading the kind of dark humor that only years in the legal field could produce, and wandering into subjects far removed from work. He leaned in when you spoke, his eyes steady on yours. Each time you laughed, he seemed to memorize the sound, his usual composure softened into quiet, attentive warmth.

This didn’t feel like the awkwardness of a first date. It felt like a shift — a natural evolution of something long established. The transition from colleagues to whatever this was didn’t need explanation or performance. The history you shared — late nights at the firm, mutual respect, the unspoken understanding of long hours and hard cases — had already built the bridge. This new closeness simply just felt earned.

By the time the bottle was nearly empty, you’d stopped trying to maintain your professional distance. The earlier frustration of being stood up had dissolved completely, replaced by something lighter — genuine ease, even happiness. You found yourself leaning toward him, posture relaxed, smiles coming more freely. The warmth in your cheeks was a mix of the wine and the intensity of his focus.

Each time his fingers brushed yours near the center of the table, a spark of nerves shot through you — sharp, fleeting, but impossible to ignore. It was strange, almost disarming, to feel this transparent with him, yet you didn’t pull away. His voice had softened, lower and more personal than you’d ever heard it in a courtroom. And as you sat there in the dim, golden light of the wine bar, you realized the night had become something you weren’t ready to leave behind.

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

The walk back to your building was quiet. The city’s usual chaos had softened into a low hum — the distant hiss of tires on damp pavement, the faint buzz of streetlights overhead. Hiromi walked close enough that your shoulders occasionally brushed, his suit jacket draped over one arm and his tie long gone. Neither of you spoke for a while, but the silence wasn’t awkward. It carried its own kind of meaning — steady and unspoken.

When you reach your loft complex, the glow from the lobby light spills across the sidewalk. You stop at the door, turning toward him with the bouquet still in your hands. “Thank you,” you say quietly. “For tonight. For everything…I really needed it.”

He looks at you for a moment, that faint smile tugging at his mouth. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says, voice low and steady. “I didn’t mind it at all.”

The silence returned, stretching between you until it felt thick with anticipation. You looked down at your keys, turning the metal over in your hand to burn off the sudden surge of nervous energy. It was a familiar, fluttering tension in your stomach, born from the realization that the night’s professional boundaries had long since dissolved.

Hiromi noticed the way you fidget. Always possessing the ability to read the room, especially when the room was just the two of you. He let out a quiet, warm chuckle and stepped into your space. His hand reached up with steady assurance, placing a single finger beneath your chin to gently tilt your face upward. You froze as your gaze met hisーdark, searching, and intensely focused, as if he were cataloging every flicker of emotion on your face. He didn't rush his actions but waited, giving you every opportunity to pull back.

But you don’t. Allowing him to finally lean in, his movements gentle and deliberate. Your breath hitches, caught in the back of your throat as the distance between you vanishes.

His lips meet yours with a soft, cautious pressure. It began as an inquiry—unhurried and careful—testing the waters of a transition he clearly didn't take lightly. But as the reality of the contact set in, the world narrowed down to the heat of his skin and the faint, lingering taste of the red wine you’d shared. The bouquet in your hand became an afterthought; your grip loosening until the flowers slipped through your fingers, hitting the pavement with a muted, floral thud.

You didn't care. Your hands moved instinctively, finding their way into the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss deepened instantly, losing its cautious edge and becoming something much more urgent and hungrier. A low, jagged sound vibration started in his throat when you pulled him closer, a raw response to your touch that seemed to break his composure.

He moved with swift motion, his body pressing firmly against yours as he guided you back against the heavy door of the loft. One hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you flush against the solid line of his frame. While the other hand cupped your jaw, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone with a mix of possessive heat and surprising tenderness. He kissed you with slow, sweeping intensity, a cumulative release of months—perhaps years—of repressed professional distance.

The air between you grew heavy and electric. His hand drifted downward, sliding through the slit of your fuchsia dress to find the bare skin of your thigh. The heat of his palm against your leg sent a jolt through you, your own breath hitching into a small, broken moan that he swallowed greedily.

When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far. He rests his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged and heavy. He stays there for a moment, barricading you against the door with his frame, the scent of his sandalwood cologne and the cool night air swirling between you. Neither of you spoke. The weight of the moment was heavier now, a silent agreement that things could never return to exactly how they were before.

When your eyes flutter open, he’s already watching you — pupils wide, gaze steady and unreadable. His thumb lifts, tracing the curve of your lower lip, slow and deliberate, smearing the faint sheen of gloss left behind. The touch is light but charged, lingering just long enough to make your breath catch. His gaze lingers, soaking in the moment, like he’s trying to decide whether to apologize or let it stand.

But you beat him to it, whispering, “You didn’t have to do that.” your voice trembling slightly as you tried to find your footing.

“I know,” he said, his voice a rough, quiet rasp. “But… I’ve wanted to… for a long time.”

You nodded, leaning back into the door to catch your breath. He stepped back just enough to give you space, though his hand lingered on your arm for a second before dropping to his side. The atmosphere was charged, the professional veneer gone, replaced by a raw, mutual understanding.

He looked down at the fallen flowers, bent over to retrieve them, and handed them back to you. The petals were a bit tousled, but the colors were still vibrant. “You dropped these,” he said, his voice softening.

“Guess I got distracted,” you admitted playfully, your fingers brushing his as you took the stems.

He chuckled, a genuine, low sound that vibrated in the quiet street. “Understandable.”

For a moment, you both just stood there, the reality of the workday tomorrow looming but feeling remarkably unimportant. He straightened his jacket and gave a small, formal nod toward the door, reverting slightly to the steady man you knew, though the warmth in his eyes remained. “You should get some rest. We both have a long day ahead of us.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, a soft smile playing on your lips. “You too, Hiromi.”

He hesitated for a second, as if he had more to say, but he settled for a final, thoughtful nod before turning to walk away. You stayed by the door, watching his tall figure move down the sidewalk until he disappeared around the corner.

Stepping inside the lobby, the scent of the crushed lilies and roses followed you into the elevator. When you finally enter your loft, you set the bouquet on the counter, your fingers lingering on the petals.

The disappointment of the early evening had been entirely overwritten. The night wasn't perfect, and the morning would bring the complexities of navigating a new dynamic at the firm, but as you locked the door, you felt a lightness you hadn't expected. You catch yourself smiling again, quietly, before locking the door behind you.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | @kimmylikesthemall @jellywrites1218 @amethyst09 @snore-3 @aizawash0e - if you're interested in joining the taglist, comment down below!