Work Text:
8.00am, an alarm blares, it echoes off the walls in Kunikida’s bedroom like it has done every day for every morning for many years. The man sleeps with a weighted blanket under a normal one, two pillows for his head, night clothes consisting of a series of various loose clothes- last night's pick being grey sweatpants and a white pyjama shirt.
A dreamless night, thankfully.
His lips pout to the side, following the motion of his cheek squishing in the pillow under his head. He puts his glasses on clumsily from the lack of sight, then sees in perfect timing as his personal phone’s screen lights up with a notification. It’s not on his work phone so it’s not an emergency, but he checks anyway, despite it being someone he really shouldn’t have to deal with first thing in the morning.
Dazai.
They message relatively often, mostly Kunikida doing his check ins and the other ranting about things with little meaning. Their last conversation was yesterday, the brunette showing him pictures of an actual meal he made. Oh, right. Kunikida is allowed to get some since there were leftovers…
His green eye ticks, however, when he notices the most recent text.
Bandages : heya kunikida-kun, can’t come in today
Ever the unprofessional, even on this phone a lot of their coworkers maintained proper grammar and punctuation as a habit. This includes Kunikida.
Me : Why is that? And why are you not telling me on my other number?
Just as he sat up and flicked his hair away, slipping on slippers and getting to his feet for a coffee, the ‘typing’ dots stopped, and a grey bubble popped up…
Bandages : jelly legs :P
Bandages : [4 Video Attachments]
Bandages : [4 Image Attachments]
One step into his venture to the kitchen, he freezes. From the thumbnails of the attachments, he slowly takes that step back and plops back down onto the bed that dents with his mass.
The videos and images turned into smaller collected boxes so they could fit into the screen and you have to click onto the folder to scroll through them.
When he does so, he jolts at the volume. A breathy moan loudly erupts from the device, sounding as though the this person is biting on a rag to try be quiet (and really failing), quickly followed by the repetitive sounds of slapping and a thumping sound; like wood meeting a wall in a dull way. As quick as he could, he left the video only to one bar of volume, heart racing at the embarrassment and potentially from what’s being shown to him. ‘Potentially’.
His partner is on a white bed, his wrists bound behind him with fluffy cuffs and bony shoulders digging into the mattress beside his head, most likely getting a friction burn as he’s jostled so quickly. It’s a ten second clip, the first one. He still has the bandages on, it is evidently Dazai, he’s heard (although far less loud and frantic) these moans before. The cropping prevents the view of anything beyond the small of the back, he can only tell that Dazai is gripping uselessly at his own hands from the flexing of his biceps.
Just as the clip ends, it seems as though the one giving the man a good time shifts position, shifting his hips forward to deepen that spine's arch.
He feels the heat on his face, burning a trail down to his chest and shoulders, even upwards to his ears. Had he meant to send those? Kunikida had heard before of the dreadful situation of accidentally sending nudes to someone. Thumb scrolling, the video falls away. He and Dazai have, one time, sexted when the brunette was drunk and wanted to get his dick wet, but apparently also wanted to annoy his partner. He’d felt guilty when he realised that Dazai wasn’t in the rightest of minds (if he ever is), and didn’t want to make the same mistake of taking advantage; even if Dazai said it was really fine and ‘he was happy to help Kunikida lose some of his tension’.
Me : Dazai?
Bandages : watch them, watch them ~ i took them for u to see as evidence it wasn’t just an excuse to slack off!!
Clearing his throat awkwardly to himself, he does so with little hesitation, sat stiff on the edge of his own bed.
In the second video, more of Dazai’s lithe body is displayed. The man behind must have sat up better. Slender fingers grip air, arms fighting the grip of the bonds, the small amount of fat on Dazai’s ass jiggling as an unknown pelvis hammers him down with grunts close to the speaker. The faceless man seems to have a nice length from how he pulls out, revealing better the heart shape of his partner's backside that’s stained pink from either being spanked or from this going on far longer than they thought to record. The faceless guys’ stomach seems muscly, and their arms are hairy, and the little amount of their thighs from what Kunikida can see are too.
Just for a moment the footage pauses, earphones being grabbed and plugged in, and he settles back.
The unknown man reaches forward and plants his fingers into the brown locks, yanking Dazai’s head back aggressively as he doesn’t stop his thrusts, the sound of them wetly echoing much more loudly and clearly with the earphones so no one else has to deal with them, no one other than the blonde watching like a hawk as black fabric is revealed wrapping around like a bandana under the strands, mask looking strings around the backs of his ears. The bandaged shoulders are ripped off the blankets with the force keeping him up after being pliantly planted before.
With his throat bared, Dazai wails at the spike of pleasurable pain and pants like a dog at the following onslaught, no doubt strained with that posture.
Reaching further forward, the camera moves to in front of them before flipping, only revealing his partner's face. It seems the recorder wants to remain unknown. From his build, it doesn’t seem like anyone they know anyways. A random hookup. Kunikida’s eyebrows hardly have the time to furrow in frustration(?) before they rise in shock, and so does his cock.
Spit flows down Dazai’s chin, down his neck and staining the white fabric of his second skin grey. The whites of his teeth are only slightly visible around the black ball gag that’s the reason for the muffling. More saliva escapes the sides of his lips, tongue undoubtedly lashing at the object in his mouth for any sense of stability. Green eyes cannot meet brown as they’re covered with a blindfold, but Kunikida can also assume from the nose wrinkles that Dazai has them squeezed shut anyways.
His face thuds close to the screen then quickly gets drawn away, then thuds close again and is drawn away, all in rapid succession as he’s pounded in a way that almost (does raise concern) raises concern.
A pathetic whimper tears from that hidden throat as he’s bent even more, it really has to hurt.
There’s a low chuckle from behind and the hand in hair trails down to go around his neck, a thumb caressing Dazai’s jaw.
“Uhhhn- !!” Comes the muffled moan, lips trying yet unable to close, only covering the teeth.
“Exhibitionists really get off on it all, huh?” The rhetorical question gets extra punctuation as the owner of the raspy voice, as if feeling out Dazai’s figure blindly, moves his hand up just enough to cover the entire bottom half of Dazai’s face, and pummels their body forward harder and harder until muffled screams are what draw the clip to a close, Dazai’s nose wrinkles doubling in size and depth.
Kunikida palms himself and shuffles his hips back like he’s trying to avoid his own touch. A small dark spot has absently formed on the tip of the tent in his trousers, cock leaking at the way his friend was being manhandled apparently just this night while Kunikida was sleeping or reading, unknowing. He knows that later, he will most likely have a moral conflict with how much it turns him on to see Dazai writhe and yell that lewdly and extremely. Looking back, it makes so much sense that Dazai is into it too, from how he’s always shoved around and even by Kunikida, joyfully jabbed and choked. Or it’s a lack of self respect. Be what it will, it has Kunikida painfully hard.
He slips his hand only under his sweats and wraps his fingers around the thin fabric over his dick, wringing it slowly like he’s trying to hold back. He knows his fate as he clicks to the next video, even before then.
Gag ripped from his throat, the leather leaving marks in his cheeks, and blindfold discarded, brown eyes meet the direct view of the camera for a moment before Dazai must look right into the gaze of his dominator, the whites under his eyes shown.
Dazai is only balanced on his elbows, lips swollen and red and wet and parted. The thumb that caressed his aching jaw previously runs over the bottom lip, a slick web following as it drags away. Dark doe eyes follow the web, until he’s suddenly yanked forward by under his jaw, unhinging it. Like a dumb slut, Dazai’s red tongue slithers out now freely, mouth wide, and he meets the others gaze again almost expectantly, flinching slightly when ‘anonymous’ grossly lets their saliva drool from their own mouth, stopping the fountain with a harsh spit that shoots it right down like a bullet. Kunikida groans quietly in his throat when Dazai swallows it with a happy sound, his eye contact never breaking away.
“Got your brain fucked yet, pretty boy?” ‘Anonymous’ asks huskily, pinching the lip again with the knuckles of his index and middle fingers.
“Mmmm…” The brunette hums but shakes his head, biting his bottom lip when it’s let go and letting it fall from his teeth.
“You think one more show, dumby?” The hand squeezes Dazai’s cheeks like Dazai is an object, like he isn’t an absolute genius.
Dazai nods and reaches up, locking lips with ‘anonymous’ who stays out the way. After a second however, his face is pushed off and he melts back into the bed. ‘Anonymous’ stands and places the phone elsewhere, the entire bed visible now, a sextape set up. Dazai moves himself so his legs are split facing Kunikida’s way, his dick stood on his crotch and flushed, the small visible section of skin just under his butt red in contrast to the white fabric. Ignoring circumstances, Kunikida wonders briefly how other hookups and even this one have reacted to the bandages.
The man, probably someone’s young dad for fucks sake with the amount of chest hair, makes sure only his back is seen… He has long blonde hair, messily and loosely tied in a ponytail. Kunikida’s lips part with an exhale when they situate themselves between those long thin legs, holding Dazai’s thin waist then drawing his palms to the sides of his knees, bringing them to hook around his broad shoulders.
As if they could anymore, Kunikida’s green eyes widen as hands wrap around Dazai’s throat and manoeuvre them to the side, plopping him back down so they’ll be seen better.
Anonymous rubs their tip around Dazai’s sopping pucker teasingly, free hand going firmely beside the splayed hair. He pushes in slowly, dragging Dazai in to meet halfway.
The two of them groan at the feeling, both feelings involving Dazai , pain in the ass Dazai, getting stretched, his insides meshing around the intrusion even if not visible.
At this point, Kunikida has moved on to skin-to-skin pumping, ‘subconsciously’ making an attempt to match the thrusting speed, perhaps out of jealousy, imagining that hole around himself with his fist .
Anonymous fully towers over Dazai, bandaged legs high in the air, toes rhythmically clenching. The pace is average at first, gradually the collision ringing more and more, and while Kunikida can admire the sight he can only imagine the sensation of the sound waves knocking off the walls and into his own ears- nothing but that sound and that feeling existing.
Kunikida hasn’t been assfucked, but even when he’s watched random porn he’s tried to visualise the senses on himself, for some reason he also somewhat feels as though someone has entered him, despite being extremely tight lest ‘the time calls’. He can imagine his own insides making way, and he thinks about how Dazai actually felt that. A detective on a work night, absolutely filthy.
The mans long hair manages to just cover the side of his face, the rest of his physique looking like an unwaxed version of the man watching the scene hours later. He holds the front of Dazai’s thighs, face fitted between the calf’s, his own legs bent and split to reach the deepest he can with his thrusts, balls pressing as hard as they can into the wall stopping him going any further. Hands trailing up, they then hold Dazai’s ankles, where the bandages stop. With the flexibility of some type of stripper on a pole, Dazai gets his legs pointed like a compass- kept straight and spread like an eagle, his ankles still held as he’s made to grab the sheets under him; no doubt caked in old sweat and cum.
With each thrust, his legs are made to point further even if only for a moment with the swaying. The image of Dazai with his chest puffed up, hands gripping fabric, mouth open, doing the splits while on his back, will be engraved in Kunikida’s mind forever . He does not want to think about the consequences that may have on his work.
Lunging forward with sudden speed, Anonymous grabs at Dazai’s brown hair either side of his head and starts to rutt inside, the brunette’s legs immediately wrapping around the others waist, the headboard banging enough to leave a mark.
“You whined like such a bitch when my dick wasn’t in you, what would your friends think?” They whisper, hardly audible. “You’re gonna send this to them, right? Speared on some stranger, perk your ass up and show them what I did to you after? I’m probably just another fuck to your hole, huh?” He says all this while pinning Dazai down by pressing together their chests. “Am I right?”
Kunikida’s hand starts moving faster at sudden audio. He can hardly hear the conversation at all, only really sees his partner arching his neck as his body is bounced off the springs below.
“Y-yeah-“ Dazai says breathily, kind of staticky, his hair becoming a right mess.
Hunching over, anonymous hands grab the shoulders below him, the force behind his thrusts like thunder, Dazai gripping his biceps. “I could tell, dropping your pants so easy. Whore.”
The brunette just chants out a couple more ‘yeah’s in agreement, but despite looking directly at the other, he seems elsewhere, tugging on the golden hair, the skin of his thighs and his ass rippling. After spending the day smiling at random people, saving random people, would any of them assume a kind acquaintance would be getting their back blown moments later?
Even quieter, “I’m gonna fill you up, leave you leaking my fucking cum. You're mine tonight.”
A high pitched moan follows, the man grips the bed and pushes in as fast as he can. He sits up again and spits in Dazai’s face, making him cry out, then slaps his hand down to rub it in, like Kunikida’s partner is a calendar and this is his day to mark.
Dazai’s thin fingers hold the wrist of the hand that takes his throat, figure getting dented into the memory foam with his legs flailing, sounds unable to make it past the blockage. Kunikida flicks his wrist sloppily, closing his eyes and taking the last part of the video as he and Dazai, it’s easy enough. The clip keeps playing even when Kunikida takes out the earplugs to monitor his own sounds as a much bigger burst of pre-cum floods over his fingers. He shoves his pants down to fully reveal himself in his room, and gets the idea to click on one of the images Dazai sent, since there appeared to be one of his face.
He clicks on it, barely ignoring the others in the folder, and his throat tumbles out some low moans as he starts thrusting, glasses tilting, and his cum shoots right onto his phone. Onto the picture of Dazai with dick in his gullet, looking up, real and old pearls of jizz cascading down his eyelids and his cheeks, resting on his palate. Could he still taste it?
Kunikida drops the phone and heaves some air, post-nut clarity making him aware of what he’s just done to his phone . The fabric of his pants sagging, he falls limp tiredly even after a night of rest, thighs quaking in aftershocks.
Lazily, Kunikida watches the remaining moments of the video before he clicked off, wiping with his sleeve the liquid spurted there. The phone is brought closer and white is fingered out of Dazai, the cum just inside of his anus then getting shoved down his throat by uncaring fingers. The thin sides of Dazai’s lips crease at the intrusion and the blonde can hear the choking without even putting the earplugs back in, hazel eyes rolling back twitchily as there’s no mercy given to him, just as he seems to like. The fingers curl and he chokes harder, eyes closing quickly, head going a little forward, and Dazai sucks the fingers dry before slowly easing off and smiling like he has no thoughts at all.
The ending thumbnail has Dazai grinning with a puddle of spit gathered on one side of his face, sweat sticking his hair down, bangs swept from where he’d been struck (a faint red mark left there), legs definitely shaking in orgasm, muscles taut and joints popped from the long exertion.
The other images are of Dazai with shots of cum gathered on his asscheeks from a previous session, the mans dick between the cheeks, Dazai laying down on his back with his own cum on his stomach (and lots of it, most likely cumming multiple times before the other got a chance to cum once), knees apart and hole loose, cock strained and soaked, the head of it dipped into the liquid, and finally an image of Dazai and the stranger smiling. He even has green eyes.
Then the video he didn’t get around to seems to be of Dazai getting face-fucked.
God.
Looking at his hand he grimaces and waddles with his pants down to the bathroom to clean everything off. Dazai must hear it somehow, as a ping sound runs through the house.
He grabs a wipe, too, and before seeing what’s been said properly cleans the device.
Bandages : want that curry?