Chiaki with a reader who loves to service her while she games. Sitting under her desk or having her sit on their face while she games etc. Maybe a smidge of chubby Chiaki appreciation?
⋆˙⟡.ೃ࿔⋆ okay so i did write this already but i'll just switch up the positions a bit to make it different
↳ REQUESTS OPEN
WARNINGS: cunnilingus
gender neutral reader
The soft blue glow of multiple monitors filled Chiaki's room, the only other light coming from the pastel string lights draped across her headboard. Empty soda cans and half-finished bags of Pocky sat within arm's reach on her wide desk. Her favorite oversized hoodie hung loosely on her frame, the hem riding up just enough to show the gentle curve of her lower belly and the plush thickness of her thighs—soft, warm, and perfect in every way you had told her a hundred times before.
You were already on your back on the thick gaming cushion she kept under her desk for "extended sessions." She called it her emergency nap spot. You called it your favorite place in the world.
Chiaki glanced down at you as she set up her console, pink eyes half-lidded, expression as calm and sleepy as ever.
"You're already in position," she observed, voice soft like she was commenting on the weather. "Good."
You smiled up at her, heart doing that stupid flip it always did when she used that tone—casual, almost absentminded, but laced with quiet ownership.
She stretched her arms above her head (the hoodie lifted higher, showing soft curve of her belly), then slowly—agonizingly slowly—she lowered herself.
Her thighs settled around your ears first, thick and pillowy, warm skin pressing in and muffling the world. Then came the rest of her. She sank down until her full weight rested on your face, cotton panties already damp against your mouth and nose. The faint scent of her body wash mixed with something sweeter, muskier—her.
A tiny pleased sigh escaped her.
"Mmm…that's better. Much better than the chair."
You groaned softly into her, the sound vibrating right against her clit. Your hands found her hips, fingers sinking into the plush give of her sides, holding her steady while also pulling her down a fraction harder. She liked that. Liked feeling you desperate to please her even when she was barely paying attention.
The game audio kicked back in—chiptune battle music, the crisp sound of combos chaining. Her fingers danced across the controller.
"You're so good at staying still," she murmured, almost to herself. "I can feel your tongue trying to move even when I'm winning. Cute."
You couldn't help it. You pressed your tongue flat against the damp cotton and dragged it slowly up, then circled where you knew her clit was hiding. Chiaki's hips gave the tiniest twitch—barely noticeable unless you were the one she was sitting on.
"Focus," she said, though her voice had gone just a shade breathier. "I'm trying to clear this boss rush."
You hummed in acknowledgment, the vibration making her thighs tense around your head. Then you got to work in earnest.
Long, slow licks through the fabric first—teasing, worshipful. You traced the outline of her folds, felt her get wetter, felt the cotton grow slick and clingy. When she shifted her weight slightly forward, chasing more pressure without ever admitting it, you took that as permission.
You nosed the soaked cotton to the side with your face, exposing her completely, then sealed your mouth over her.
Chiaki let out the softest, sleepiest moan you'd ever heard.
"Ah…there. Right there."
She didn't stop playing. Didn't even pause. Her character kept moving—perfect dodges, perfect parries—while she rocked her hips in tiny, lazy circles against your tongue.
You drank her in. Every drop. Every flutter. The way her plush thighs trembled when you sucked gently on her clit, the way her belly pressed down against your chest when she leaned forward to read attack patterns. You loved how soft she was everywhere—how there was so much of her to hold, to worship, to disappear under. Loved the little roll that jiggled faintly when she rocked harder. Loved that she trusted you enough to use you like this: warm, wet furniture that existed only to make her feel good while she focused.
"You're doing so well," she whispered, voice cracking just a little on the last word as you flicked your tongue faster. "My good chair…my perfect chair…"
Her breathing changed—shallow little pants between button presses.
The victory fanfare played.
She didn't celebrate. Instead she ground down hard, smothering you completely for a long second, thighs clamping tight around your head.
"Cumming," she said simply, like she was announcing the next stage loading.
She came in soft, rolling waves. No dramatic screams—just a long, trembling sigh and the feeling of her pulsing against your tongue, slick coating your chin, your lips, your nose. You kept licking through it, gentle now, helping her ride the aftershocks while her fingers slowed on the controller.
When the tremors finally eased she lifted just enough to let you breathe. Cool air hit your soaked face. You gasped, dizzy, grinning like an idiot.
Chiaki looked down at you over the curve of her chest and tummy, cheeks faintly pink, hair falling into her eyes.
"...New high score," she said, sleepy smile tugging at her lips. "Think you deserve a reward round?"
She reached down, brushed damp hair off your forehead with her thumb.
"Or…" She shifted again, settling right back down so your mouth was pressed to her oversensitive folds once more. "…we could go for another clear. I'm only on chapter seven."
You wrapped your arms around her thick thighs and pulled her closer in answer.
She let out a tiny laugh—soft, fond.
"Good chair."
And the next match started.
