#sagelytoad

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“Can we please get back to work.” Akaashi Keiji groans, a sharp edge of annoyance punctuating his words. 

“No. Not until you have some fun with me.” You whine, tugging on the edge of his shirt.

—

It was a chilled October day when you were partnered with Akaashi in your Theory in Language course. Of course you had noticed him long before then. How could you miss him? Soft dark hair, slightly curled at the ends and mesmerizing aegean blue eyes that would stop anyone in their tracks. All neatly framed by a pair of thick framed geeky glasses. He’s tall, but not in the way that would make you feel towered over. Tall in the way that made you feel protected. Safe. Sure his wardrobe was…nerdy, but that’s to be expected from someone so damn smart. And totally oblivious to how hot he really was. You distinctly remember the number of pointed glares from other women in the lecture hall when your name was called with his to be partnered up for the semester. 

Little did they know that your professor took requests for project partners. But they would have had to read the syllabus to know that. So a quick google search to find his name and one email to your professor declaring that Akaashi Keiji and yourself would like to be partners and it was done.

He’s about as sweet as you expected. The holding doors and paying for your coffee every study session type. So sweet. Sickly sweet. Too sweet in fact. 

Something nagged you. How could someone so aggravatingly handsome, so intelligent, so kind, and oddly funny not have any kind of ego? He never argued. If you ever disagreed on something, he was quick to ease the tension and concede to your ideas. Several times while in the middle of a study session in the library or your preferred coffee shop, women would come up to him, totally oblivious to your presence, and blatantly hit on him. But did that show any cracks in his disgustingly sweet persona? Nope. He only politely declined—in the way that makes people not feel rejected in the slightest—and then offer to take your study session back to his apartment so you two wouldn’t be bothered. Never mentioning how it was the fourth person to hit on him that week.

After some time, you started to get frustrated with his calm demeanor and never ending chivalry. Something has to give. Something has to crack. You wanted him. And you were never going to have him if he didn’t loosen up. 

So that’s why for the past few weeks you’ve been expertly drilling yourself under his skin.

You devised a devilish plan. You wanted him to open up, but not just to anyone. No, you wanted him to open up to you and only you.

First, you started leaving your things laying around his apartment. It started with small items, like a hair tie or a lip gloss. But soon it turned into spare clothes because “I just hate studying in the same clothes I went to class in Kej”. And then it turned to an extra pillow in case you got sleepy and a toothbrush in case study sessions went late. Although you never actually stayed… you weren’t crazy right? Just something to keep you on his mind while you weren’t there to make sure of it. 

Second, you started dropping subtle hints at how majorly single you were. Interrupting study sessions and asking him for advice on your dating app profile. Complaining at how you hadn’t been satisfied in such a long time because, “Men just don’t know how to pleasure a women do they Keiji?”. It was hilarious how pink his ears would go when you mentioned that you’ve never orgasmed from a man’s touch. Not a lie, but certainly overkill. You brought it up so much that you both started to fall behind on your project deadlines, and soon late night cram sessions became necessary. Keiji always picked up the slack. You let him.

But the final nail in the coffin was when you started to ward off literally anyone else who came near him. His seat in the lecture hall? You sat on one side and your backpack on the other so no one else could sit directly next to him. You convinced him that you study better at his apartment so the flirty attempts from random women at coffee shops would stop. You scheduled your study sessions to overlap with campus events and parties so he wouldn't be able to socialize. It was him and you and no one else.

You’re not an asshole. If he truly seemed uncomfortable, of course you would stop. But something always told you he was into it. Into the quality time, your stuff littering his apartment, and the constant babbling. No—you don’t have proof, but you also haven’t been so sure of anything in a long time.

So for weeks it’s been nothing but: leave traces of you around his apartment, hint at how utterly sexually frustrated you were, make sure no one else can get to him, fuck yourself alone to the memory of his face being so cutely annoyed with you, and repeat. It became a routine. But you wanted more.

And tonight you were getting it.

—

“Say stop and I will.” But he doesn’t. Instead his hands delicately remove his shirt revealing the slenderly toned, athletic build that you knew he was hiding underneath all those button ups and geeky T-shirts. 

Strip study session. Whoever guesses wrong, removes an article of clothing. You’re already down to your bra and panties while he remains clothed from the waist down.

These kinds of games (though typically not involving nudity) had slowly become common during your study breaks. Probably because you don’t take no for an answer, not until his cheeks turn red with frustration. Not until he either gives in or enough time passes and you know your grade will be fucked if you don’t lock in. During these breaks you’re usually able to pull a lot of information out of him. He used to be a setter on his high school’s volleyball team and turns out he was really good. His best friend is named Bokuto. His favorite food is nanohana no karashiae. And he’s still so fucking polite.

It wasn’t difficult to convince him to up the ante tonight. Probably a result of all your hard work the past few weeks.

“Ok my turn.” He mutters, sipping from one of the beers you found in the back of his fridge. It wasn’t like him to drink during a study session, but he recently got an A+ on a particularly difficult midterm in a different class. You had received a text a few hours ago, asking if you’d be down for a bit of celebration during your scheduled time together seeing as he didn’t know many other people on campus. You had just smirked and responded with a thumbs up emoji.

“Which linguist proposed that humans are born with an innate ability for language?”

You chew your lip pretending to think. Pretending not to know that it's Noam Chomsky. You don’t care about losing. You just want to see his expression when your breasts finally spill out of your bra.

“Hmmm…Stephen Pinker?” Akaashi grins and shakes his head. Almost like he knows you threw the question. 

“Wrong—er…you don’t have to take anything else off.” He taps his fingers along the glass of his beer, as if he only just realized what you're wearing, “Not if you’re uncomfortable.” You smile.

“Why would I be uncomfortable Keiji? Aren’t we friends?” He swallows hard and watches as you unhook your bra and ceremoniously pull the straps over your arms until the cool air of his apartment meets your exposed nipples, instantly hardening them to stiff peaks. He looks away, but it’s too late. You already saw the way his pupils dilated. The way his hands shake. The way his pants seem just a bit tighter now.

He’s turned on.

“We uh—can probably stop there.” He laughs, barely audible. You tilt your head.

“You want to stop after my tits are already out?” You sip your beer, “Damn Kej, if you only wanted a peek before getting back to our project, you could have just asked.” You try to stay light hearted, but your frustration is growing like a wildfire. 

It’s his sincerity that finally does it.

“I just don’t want you to feel exposed—“

Your composure snaps. Weeks of hard work hanging in the balance of your impatience.

“Fuck Keiji can’t you tell I’m trying to get you to fuck me?” The words come out before you even know what you’re saying. And the pregnant silence afterwards is enough to send anyone into a voluntary exile. 

“You…wait what?” He asks. And for the first time in the months of knowing him, Akaashi looks dumb.

“Man you can be dense sometimes.” You stand to your feet and he follows swiftly, “Fuck? F-U-C-K. Ever heard of it or do you respect women so much that you would never even indulge one?” You know you’ve gone too far. It’s clear in the way his cheeks redden. The way he tenses. The way he plays with his fingers in the way he does when he’s stressed.

“Is that what all this has been about?” He murmurs, but there’s an edge to his inquisition. A tone you’ve never heard before. Not from him. “Is that why you’ve been leaving all your stuff around for me to clean up after? Why you waste all of our study sessions complaining about how deprived you are? Why anytime someone tries to talk to me in class you basically run them off?” Suddenly Akaashi seems taller than he typically is. Chills spread down your spine. 

“What if I said yes? Not like you're going to do anything about it.” You grab your littered clothing and stomp toward the bathroom to change, but he stops you.

“You’re such a brat, come here.” He grips your wrist and yanks you to him, pulling the two of you back into the couch, you on his lap. “You that desperate? Go ahead. Sit on it.” You’re only taken aback for a split second. He’s not usually so assertive, but you have been purposefully annoying him. He’s kind of cute at his limit.

Your panties fly off before he changes his mind. Watching excitedly as he gruffly undoes his belt. His lean frame leaning back into the couch casually, dark blue eyes narrowed on you, like he’s planning all the ways he’s going to punish you for annoying him. Impatience becomes you and just as he unzips his jeans, your hand darts beneath his underwear. 

“Oh Keiji…already so hard? Is that for me?” You start to laugh, but a strong hand grips your throat. Your eyes dart to his.

“Bold words for someone who was practically just begging me to fuck her,” His grip tightens just enough to stutter your breath and he leans in, “This is your last chance. Sit on my cock, or go home.” His grip releases and he goes to free himself. His cock springs out, thick, and heavy, and amazing with a curved vein decorating the length of him. Beads of pre pool over his tip. His thumb circles the slit, working the shiny stuff down himself and nodding to you once he’s ready. Warmth pools between your thighs. Without another word, you slowly turn your back and ease yourself down the length of him—struggling slightly with the wide tip—until your inner thighs meet his hips. The stretch is amazing. Weeks of stress and frustration melting over the feeling of Akaashi’s thick cock opening you up. You roll your hips once…twice, letting yourself get used to him. Once you’ve found the perfect angle, you take one deep breath, brace yourself, and start to slide up.

Domineering hands grip your hips and slam you back down.

“Did I say that you could move?” He growls and from the corner of your eye you watch him grab the manuscript the two of you have been working on and a red pen. Is he really going to work at a time like this? 

“Kej—“

“Just sit there, look pretty, and try not to distract me while I carry your weight on this stupid project.” You feel him place the manuscript on your back, using you to steady his handwriting. A knowing smirk tugs at your lips. Finally. So fucking cocky. But surely he’s bluffing and you will be properly fucking within the next minute. 

But one minute comes and goes followed by an agonizingly slow thirty more.

Sweat starts to bead along your hairline. Your thighs burn and pretty soon will start to shake if you don’t move.

He’s just trying to prove a point, you think to yourself but how can he so easily maintain his composure like this? Is his mind not totally numb? Does his skin not feel like it’s on fire too? Trying your luck, you slowly rock up, but large hands bring your hips down before returning to their edits. The force of him putting you in your new, designated place sends a shockwave through your clit.

“Nngh.” You snap your head up, hoping he didn’t hear that pathetic moan slip out. But the way his pen pauses ever so slightly gives it away. He definitely heard. “K—Kej—“ He twitches his pelvis and you can feel the thick vein of his cock flex against your tight walls. 

“Oh fuck.” 

“You can do it gorgeous—just stay still.” He goads, adjusting his posture before returning to his work.

Your head spins. The only sound is of his pen writing notes in the margins of the paper and of your breathing which is growing heavier by the minute. Closing your eyes, you try to steady yourself, but the only thing you can focus on is how completely he fills you up. You imagine him moving, fucking up into you until you scream for mercy. You think of him pulling your hair and gripping your throat, making you his play thing. Of spitting, of smacking, of anything but not moving.

“You’re dripping.” He notes, turning the page like he's bored. Clumsily you move your hand to clean yourself, accidentally grazing your clit as you move. The sensation ripples through you like water and suddenly you feel dizzy. You check the clock, almost forty five minutes have passed since you tangled yourselves together. Another second and you think you’ll die.

“Keiji—p-please-”

“P-please what?” He mocks, finally setting the manuscript to the side. His hands glide over your ass to your hips where he rests them. You try to form the necessary words to end this punishment, but your thoughts are vapor. Your entire body can only pay attention to the agonizing want of him thrusting deeper into you. “Go on y/n—if you want it, beg for it.” His voice is soft but commanding. It’s clear that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you and loves it. Using the only semblance of coherence you can muster, you beg,

“P—lease nngh, fuck me.” He grasps your hair and tugs, slightly tilting your head back. Hot lava licks at your skin. You feel vulnerable and exposed beneath his sledging. Giving in would be admitting defeat, but with your thighs shaking the way they are and your cheeks hot as coals, you know you've already lost.

“If you don’ f—uck me, nngh, I m—might finish right now without y—ou.” You breathe, muscles screaming, tears beginning to drip down your cheeks.

“Really? Just from this?” He sighs, shifting himself down slightly for a better angle, “You’re so needy, it’s embarrassing.” Before you can answer, you feel the sweet release of him thrusting his hips up into you, slow and calculated. One hand slides from your hip to your back, pressing against it firmly as he pushes in deeper. His movement is ecstasy for your nerves, sending waves of delectation through you. You fall forward slightly and catch yourself on his thighs. Salty, relieved tears fall freely.

“Oh fuck, you’re—hah—so tight. What do you say?” He interjects, pushing himself in so deep that his hips are pressed flush again your ass. 

“Tha—nk y..you” Your words come out broken and shaky, like your brain isn’t connecting to your mouth. All you can focus on is doing whatever it takes to keep him moving. 

“That’s a good girl.” He praises and rewards you with faster, harder thrusts. His cock braces against your walls sounding disgustingly wet noises across his apartment. Your hand reaches for your clit, but just as quick, he restrains you, pulling both arms behind and pinning you. All you can do is brace yourself on his thighs as he fucks you into a mind numbing state. You can’t even bother to be embarrassed as inexplicable sounds emit from your mouth. 

“Y—es Keiji! Nngh, m—ore!” 

Finally, he seems to be as motivated as you are. Strong hips rut up in a circular rhythm, ramming his cock right against the most sensitive part of you. Tiny sparks nip at your nerves. 

“You sound so stupid, but you’re—oh fuck—doing such a good job y/n.” He groans. His words unleash something in you that you've never felt. In just the last hour you went from wanting to win at whatever game you were playing to being willing to do anything to win his favor. He could ask you to do whatever he wanted and in this moment you would say yes. You want to be made his completely and unquestionably. 

His cock rams into you harder and harder, sending your body forward and you find it increasingly difficult to stabilize yourself. Ever so observant, he slows his rhythm to a stop and slides his hands underneath your legs. It’s not until you feel a gust of cool air that you realize he’s lifted himself to a standing position, carrying you under your thighs, still throbbing inside you.

"No one's ever made you orgasm, hm?" His arms are strong, bulging muscles flexing to hold you up. "But I bet you've never had dick this good."

Wrapping your arms behind his head and leaning your back into his chest, you stabilize your top half so he’s able to focus on what’s below. As if you were a dumbbell he lowers and lifts you, sliding himself in and out. You hear him grunt as his movements resume their previous pace. You knew he was strong from all the stolen glances at his biceps, but the way he’s manhandling you is something you never would have guessed him capable of. Sticky sweat forms a barricade over your bodies. Your breasts bounce from the force. His soft lips take their position over your neck, biting and sucking on your skin, surely leaving his mark behind. With one hand, you grab his hair and run your fingers through it, lightly tugging. This is what you’d been so desperately wanting for. Weeks and weeks of orchestrated tension and fucking yourself alone to the thought of him snapping. Now all coming undone in the most perfect fuck you’d ever been given. This is who Akaashi Keiji is. Not that soft spoken, too-shy-for-his-own-good, nerd. But a confidently cocky—still nerdy—sarcastic freak.

"You know how many times I've thought about ruining you in the middle of lecture? Huh?"

You cry at his words. Sobbing, overstimulated, wrecked.

"Just wanna bend you over your desk until you can't—hah—fucking breathe. Don' care who sees."

It’s too much.

As if your bodies synched you feel yourself tightening around him as he throbs. With a particularly motivated thrust, your body jumps, white-hot pleasure overtaking you and you cry out. Loud enough that the neighbors will definitely be calling to complain. Stars burst behind your eyes, a stream of pornographic groans fall from his perfect lips. His movements slow and you feel the warmth of him flooding into you, filling you up until it threatens to leak out. He allows himself a few more slow strokes before backing to the couch and setting you both down in the original position you started in. Your breaths are heavy and you lean back onto him. His arms wrap over your breasts and he pulls you in tight, his forehead nudged up against the back of your hair. You feel light and airy, like instead of being fucked, you actually were just given a blissful massage.

Despite the calm of your body, your mind remains aroused. Maybe it’s his breath against the back of your neck or maybe it’s the fact that he’s still inside you and keeping his cum safely stuffed, but all you know is that you want him like this again and again and again.

“Keiji?” You exhale, your voice hoarse.

“Yes?” He responds, dragging his teeth lazily over the edge of your ear.

“I want you to make me yours” You say, “You can do anything you want, but please—whatever you do, do it to me.” For a moment his breaths stop against your neck and you worry that maybe you've said too much. Maybe you're being too much. Maybe you really are desperate and this was and always will be just one-sided attraction. Maybe he said all those things to just be nice. Because he's always so fucking nice.

Seconds pass and all you hear is the sound of your own heartbeat roaring in your ears. You shut your eyes tight. 

Did you misread this—No, he’s literally still inside you—But what if he was just bored—No, Keiji isn’t like that—Is he? Your thoughts spiral, but just when you go to lift yourself up, he finally speaks.

“Wait.” He directs and props you forward lightly, cum slipping down your thigh. In the next second, you feel the cool wetness of his red pen gliding over your skin before he helps you lift yourself off.

Immediately upon standing you feel your thighs quake, sending you to your knees. Keiji jerks forward, trying to catch you before you hit the ground.

“Sorry, y/n, I think I got carried away and made you wait in that position a bit too long.” He laughs nervously, guiding you back to the couch. You continue to catch your breath, watching him disappear and return from the bathroom with a wet towel that he uses to clean the mess and you—his mess whether he knows it or not. The intimacy of it rattles your thoughts and dreadful hope pours its way back into your heart, solidified there when he kisses your temple before grabbing a water for you to sip on.

Akaashi dresses back up to his waist and you're secretly giddy when he decides to forgo his shirt and hand it to you instead. He takes his seat next to you on the couch and lightly scratches your back as you cover up. His other hand tugs a loose thread on the couch—he seems flustered which makes you smile. This is the Keiji you're familiar with— soft, sweet, shy, kind. You like the version you just met, but you also really like this one too. Your shoulders ease and you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

“I would've never guessed that you fucked like that.” You say and you both giggle.

“I would have never guessed you were so obedient.” He retorts. A ripple of heat rips through you and suddenly you feel weak again.

Obedient.

For him, yes.

He takes a moment to push a strand of hair from your face.

“Y/n, did you actually mean what you said… about making you mine?” He asks. You feel your cheeks go red.

“I’m sorry. I was being too much—“

“Please don’t.” He interrupts. “If you didn’t mean it, then I can live with that, but… you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about you saying those words. Don’t shrink yourself for me, just tell me how you’re feeling.” You find yourself admiring the way he’s so easily able to mold tension to his whim. Taking a deep breath, you lean in, bringing your lips to his. He kisses back softly, cupping your face like you're fragile. Pulling away, you look into his deep blue eyes which are watching intensely.

“I meant every word.” You whisper. His eyes widen and you notice that his cheeks are also red. Whether it’s from fucking or your candor, you're not sure. “Is that ok?” You ask. 

Lips smash back into you. Keiji surges forward, one hand on your jawline, the other squeezing your breasts eagerly. You kiss back, letting him run his tongue over yours for as long as he wants. Enjoying the way he tastes.

“Fuck, you don’t even know.” He groans, pulling his head away and looking you over with greedy eyes. “You don’t even know how many times I had to hold myself back.” You giggle beneath him.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been trying to make you break.”

"No seriously y/n. You have no idea." He looks away briefly as if contemplating saying something.

"What is it?" You ask. He laughs under his breath.

"It's pretty embarrassing, but...when the semester started, I thought you were cute so I asked around for your name and..."

"Keiji?"

"I emailed our professor to request that we could be in the same group." Your mouth drops open in disbelief.

After all this time. It was never just you.

He asks you to stay with promises of a proper date in the morning and later that night as you wait for the shower to turn warm, you suddenly remember the red pen. Curiosity overcomes you and you feel your heart racing as you think of all the things he could have possibly written. Slowly turning, the letters reveal themselves. 

Sprawled on your lower back—just above your ass—written in bright red ink is the name ‘KEIJI’.

Secret cocky asshole, you think to yourself.