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Entry tags:
Not Haunted House Material
Title: Not Haunted House Material
Fandom: Bungou to Alchemist
Character(s): Librarian, Oda
Pairing(s): Oda/Librarian
Genre: Smut/Fluff
Word Count: 1,810
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Odasaku shows the librarian a costume he bought.
Notes: I wrote this in March, as part of a planned otoge that was going to center around the authors hosting a festival. The buraiha were in charge of the haunted house with other authors running other booths, and the end of the festival had a dance followed by an R-18 scene with whatever author you had spent the most time with.
That otoge doesn't seem like it's going to come to fruition, so here this is for public consumption.
The dance was fun, but it’s a relief to be back in my office again. It’s much quieter than the hustle and bustle of the festival.
...Though, it’s not as quiet as it usually is, with Odasaku sitting by my desk.
“I think that went pretty well, yeah?” He’s never been one for ‘companionable silence’. “Gotta say, when we were plannin’ the thing and runnin’ around buyin’ props and costumes, I wasn’t too sure it was gonna go off without a hitch.”
“I’m sure,” I reply. “What was your costume? I don’t think I ever saw you wearing one.”
“Didn’t get one, I never found one I liked.” Odasaku chuckles. “Welll, that ain’t exactly true. I did pick up a costume, but it ain’t ‘haunted house’ material. ‘s real nice, though.”
Odasaku would look good in almost anything, and how vague he’s being about the costume he did buy is making me curious. So of course, I have to ask. “Can I see it?”
He pauses for just a second in what looks like surprise, then grins. “Sure thing. I left it in my room, you mind coming with?”
It makes more sense than making him walk across the library in a silly outfit. I nod, and he links his arm in mine like a gentleman before leading me to his room.
Of course I already know where Odasaku’s room is, but I don’t think of telling him he’s being silly. Just the gesture is enough to make me smile to myself.
He stops just outside the door. “Wait here while I change,” he says. “Shouldn’t take more than a sec.”
...Well, there really isn’t anywhere to modestly change in a small bedroom, unless I hid in the closet. “That’s fine. Take your time.”
Odasaku steps inside and shuts the door, and soon there’s a faint rustle of cloth. I’m tempted to peek - even though I’ll be seeing him in the costume in a minute, the in between steps are almost definitely more interesting - but I would never actually do something like spying on someone without their knowing. ...Also, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to risk being caught.
It takes a little while longer than I expected, but eventually Odasaku’s voice comes through the door. “Alrighty, come on in.”
I open the door and take a step inside. Then I process what Odasaku’s wearing, and barely manage to remember to shut the door behind me.
From top to bottom: the reason Odasaku took so long was probably to let his hair out of its braid - the lace headpiece is striking against his dark hair. The dress is black and white, with a few expertly-placed ribbons to give the outfit an elegant touch while still keeping the illusion of simplicity and purity. Below the ruffles of the dress, there’s a small stretch of bare leg, and then black stockings with lace garters.
Maid. He’s dressed as a maid. Odasaku is wearing a maid dress. Odasaku is sitting on his bed with one leg crossed over his knee, which does not help me with this sudden realization that his legs are amazing, and he’s grinning at me.
“Welcome home, Mistress,” he says, sounding way too pleased. “Want some food? Or a bath? Or… me?”
I nearly choke on air. When I do manage to speak again, it’s much more shaky than I intended: “Th-that’s a really… interesting choice of costume…”
Odasaku shrugs. Either he completely isn’t concerned with the implications of wearing that or it was part of the reason for the choice. Considering what he purred at me when I walked in, it’s probably the second. “What’dya think? Looks good on me, right?”
“Yeah.” That comes out way too quickly, but there’s no way I could possibly say no to that question. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you, Mistress~” I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him grin this wide before. “You’ve gotta be tired, runnin’ around a festival all day. Wanna sit down? I’ll take good care of you, you don’t gotta do a thing.”
Hesitantly, giving him the chance to go ‘I meant sit in a chair’ if he wants to, I take a seat next to him on his bed. He reaches to brush a hand gently through my hair, and then leans in.
I didn’t expect my first kiss with Odasaku to be while he was wearing a dress. I also don’t really give a damn right now, because his lips are warm and seem to fit perfectly against mine. He could probably be wearing anything and I would be too focused on the kiss to notice. It’s hard to keep my eyes open during a kiss anyway.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him closer to me. When he chuckles, I kiss it off his face, and he tugs lightly at my lower lip with his teeth before returning to rapidly deepening kisses.
Eventually, I pull back, more for a concern about air than any actual desire to stop. My heart is pounding and my skin feels impossibly hot. The air conditioning must be broken in this part of the library.
Odasaku laughs, and I realize I said that last part out loud. “Sorry, sorry~ I guess I oughta help you out with that, Mistress.”
I am pretty sure that him taking my clothes off of me is not actually going to help.
I also really, really don’t care, because Odasaku dots my neck with kisses while he’s stripping me of my clothes, and once I get my shirt off those kisses travel lower. His tongue drags a trail across my chest, and every time I gasp I can feel him grin against me for a second before he renews his efforts.
He nips gently at my collar and I thread my hands in his hair, knocking out his lacy headpiece in the process. I’ve never seen him wear his hair long before - the braid disguises just how long it is, and it’s softer than I thought it would be.
Odasaku works me up slowly. He seems to be intent on making sure his mouth is on every part of my chest before he even thinks of moving on, and as much as it makes me shiver when he licks or nibbles on a sensitive spot, I’m starting to get impatient. I push down on his head lightly, enough for him to get the message.
“As you wish, Mistress~” He kisses the outside of my hip. Then the inside of my thigh. Then there’s a wet tongue against me and all impatience is forgotten.
I can’t hold back my voice. A slow drag gets a breathy sigh of “Oda,” I don’t think I could string together four syllables right now. The barest touch to my clit gets a long moan, and when he starts to suck on it while rubbing lower with his fingers, I can barely make out my own chant of “oh god, oh god,” over the drumming in my ears and the heat in my veins.
He’s slow with this too, and the pleasure is nearly agonizing. He starts off with an almost random pattern of licking, like he’s trying to discover what I like best by going through literally everything possible. It takes ages for him to speed up. He might be content staying there for ages, hands rubbing gentle circles on my thighs, but I would die if he didn’t push me closer to what I need right now.
It takes ages, but eventually he starts focusing on what gets me to moan the loudest. I would praise his attention to detail, but that would mean doing something other than clutching his hair and gasping his name over and over again. And that’s impossible.
My toes curl, my back arches, I’m so close close close-
When I’m finally pushed over the edge - it’s like a straight drop off a cliff, with almost as much screaming involved - he keeps working at me through it, until I’ve finally come down and push weakly at him to get him to stop licking at oversensitive skin.
Then he pulls back, grinning at me with hazy eyes and red, swollen lips. “How’s that, Mistress? Pleased you alright?”
There was definitely some pleasing involved. I laugh a little, breathless, and lean in to kiss him.
It doesn’t take long until I notice that there’s a significant tent in his dress - these things aren’t made for modesty, I bet. I don’t want him to take that dress off, but it’s short enough that I can easily get a hand under it, and he rocks into my touch as I rub his skin-
Wait.
“You’re not wearing underwear?” I ask.
“Didn’t feel right wearin’ boxers under it, but nothin’ else was comfortable,” he says with a shrug. That implies that he tried more ‘fitting’ underwear on, which gives me a lovely mental image of Odasaku in lace panties that I will reflect on later, in private and at great length.
Speaking of length. Odasaku isn’t too loud, but he’s not quiet either - when I rub my thumb across the head, he sighs with obvious pleasure, and speeding up my strokes gets him to murmur, “yeah, yeah, just like that,” as he thrusts into my hand. He’s utterly beautiful like this: flushed cheeks, hair let down, eyelashes fluttering.
He’s beautiful all the time, but I don’t get to see this side of him as often. I can’t possibly tear my eyes away.
Odasaku almost immediately proves me wrong by kissing me, a deep and hungry kiss that has my eyes shut tight. His moans never make it past my lips, even though he gets louder as I continue to stroke him.
His thrusts up into my hand turn erratic, and when he groans low and goes still, something spills on my hand. ...I really don’t want to just wipe this on his dress, or on his bed for that matter, so when I pull my hand out from under his dress I just stare dumbly at the white staining it for a second before licking it off.
He watches me clean off my hand, making a noise that sounds a little bit embarrassed. ...It’s hard to tell because we’re both so flushed already, but I think he just got redder. It’s cute. He’s cute.
When my hands are come-free, Odasaku pulls me close to him. Even with the softness of the dress, his chest is firm, and I rest my head against him without thinking about it.
“...Odasaku,” I murmur.
“Yeah?” Even without looking up, I can hear the smile in his voice.
“I really… think you should wear that more often.”
It’s not what I meant to say at all, but judging by the way he softly kisses my cheek, he probably already knows.
Fandom: Bungou to Alchemist
Character(s): Librarian, Oda
Pairing(s): Oda/Librarian
Genre: Smut/Fluff
Word Count: 1,810
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Odasaku shows the librarian a costume he bought.
Notes: I wrote this in March, as part of a planned otoge that was going to center around the authors hosting a festival. The buraiha were in charge of the haunted house with other authors running other booths, and the end of the festival had a dance followed by an R-18 scene with whatever author you had spent the most time with.
That otoge doesn't seem like it's going to come to fruition, so here this is for public consumption.
The dance was fun, but it’s a relief to be back in my office again. It’s much quieter than the hustle and bustle of the festival.
...Though, it’s not as quiet as it usually is, with Odasaku sitting by my desk.
“I think that went pretty well, yeah?” He’s never been one for ‘companionable silence’. “Gotta say, when we were plannin’ the thing and runnin’ around buyin’ props and costumes, I wasn’t too sure it was gonna go off without a hitch.”
“I’m sure,” I reply. “What was your costume? I don’t think I ever saw you wearing one.”
“Didn’t get one, I never found one I liked.” Odasaku chuckles. “Welll, that ain’t exactly true. I did pick up a costume, but it ain’t ‘haunted house’ material. ‘s real nice, though.”
Odasaku would look good in almost anything, and how vague he’s being about the costume he did buy is making me curious. So of course, I have to ask. “Can I see it?”
He pauses for just a second in what looks like surprise, then grins. “Sure thing. I left it in my room, you mind coming with?”
It makes more sense than making him walk across the library in a silly outfit. I nod, and he links his arm in mine like a gentleman before leading me to his room.
Of course I already know where Odasaku’s room is, but I don’t think of telling him he’s being silly. Just the gesture is enough to make me smile to myself.
He stops just outside the door. “Wait here while I change,” he says. “Shouldn’t take more than a sec.”
...Well, there really isn’t anywhere to modestly change in a small bedroom, unless I hid in the closet. “That’s fine. Take your time.”
Odasaku steps inside and shuts the door, and soon there’s a faint rustle of cloth. I’m tempted to peek - even though I’ll be seeing him in the costume in a minute, the in between steps are almost definitely more interesting - but I would never actually do something like spying on someone without their knowing. ...Also, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to risk being caught.
It takes a little while longer than I expected, but eventually Odasaku’s voice comes through the door. “Alrighty, come on in.”
I open the door and take a step inside. Then I process what Odasaku’s wearing, and barely manage to remember to shut the door behind me.
From top to bottom: the reason Odasaku took so long was probably to let his hair out of its braid - the lace headpiece is striking against his dark hair. The dress is black and white, with a few expertly-placed ribbons to give the outfit an elegant touch while still keeping the illusion of simplicity and purity. Below the ruffles of the dress, there’s a small stretch of bare leg, and then black stockings with lace garters.
Maid. He’s dressed as a maid. Odasaku is wearing a maid dress. Odasaku is sitting on his bed with one leg crossed over his knee, which does not help me with this sudden realization that his legs are amazing, and he’s grinning at me.
“Welcome home, Mistress,” he says, sounding way too pleased. “Want some food? Or a bath? Or… me?”
I nearly choke on air. When I do manage to speak again, it’s much more shaky than I intended: “Th-that’s a really… interesting choice of costume…”
Odasaku shrugs. Either he completely isn’t concerned with the implications of wearing that or it was part of the reason for the choice. Considering what he purred at me when I walked in, it’s probably the second. “What’dya think? Looks good on me, right?”
“Yeah.” That comes out way too quickly, but there’s no way I could possibly say no to that question. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you, Mistress~” I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him grin this wide before. “You’ve gotta be tired, runnin’ around a festival all day. Wanna sit down? I’ll take good care of you, you don’t gotta do a thing.”
Hesitantly, giving him the chance to go ‘I meant sit in a chair’ if he wants to, I take a seat next to him on his bed. He reaches to brush a hand gently through my hair, and then leans in.
I didn’t expect my first kiss with Odasaku to be while he was wearing a dress. I also don’t really give a damn right now, because his lips are warm and seem to fit perfectly against mine. He could probably be wearing anything and I would be too focused on the kiss to notice. It’s hard to keep my eyes open during a kiss anyway.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him closer to me. When he chuckles, I kiss it off his face, and he tugs lightly at my lower lip with his teeth before returning to rapidly deepening kisses.
Eventually, I pull back, more for a concern about air than any actual desire to stop. My heart is pounding and my skin feels impossibly hot. The air conditioning must be broken in this part of the library.
Odasaku laughs, and I realize I said that last part out loud. “Sorry, sorry~ I guess I oughta help you out with that, Mistress.”
I am pretty sure that him taking my clothes off of me is not actually going to help.
I also really, really don’t care, because Odasaku dots my neck with kisses while he’s stripping me of my clothes, and once I get my shirt off those kisses travel lower. His tongue drags a trail across my chest, and every time I gasp I can feel him grin against me for a second before he renews his efforts.
He nips gently at my collar and I thread my hands in his hair, knocking out his lacy headpiece in the process. I’ve never seen him wear his hair long before - the braid disguises just how long it is, and it’s softer than I thought it would be.
Odasaku works me up slowly. He seems to be intent on making sure his mouth is on every part of my chest before he even thinks of moving on, and as much as it makes me shiver when he licks or nibbles on a sensitive spot, I’m starting to get impatient. I push down on his head lightly, enough for him to get the message.
“As you wish, Mistress~” He kisses the outside of my hip. Then the inside of my thigh. Then there’s a wet tongue against me and all impatience is forgotten.
I can’t hold back my voice. A slow drag gets a breathy sigh of “Oda,” I don’t think I could string together four syllables right now. The barest touch to my clit gets a long moan, and when he starts to suck on it while rubbing lower with his fingers, I can barely make out my own chant of “oh god, oh god,” over the drumming in my ears and the heat in my veins.
He’s slow with this too, and the pleasure is nearly agonizing. He starts off with an almost random pattern of licking, like he’s trying to discover what I like best by going through literally everything possible. It takes ages for him to speed up. He might be content staying there for ages, hands rubbing gentle circles on my thighs, but I would die if he didn’t push me closer to what I need right now.
It takes ages, but eventually he starts focusing on what gets me to moan the loudest. I would praise his attention to detail, but that would mean doing something other than clutching his hair and gasping his name over and over again. And that’s impossible.
My toes curl, my back arches, I’m so close close close-
When I’m finally pushed over the edge - it’s like a straight drop off a cliff, with almost as much screaming involved - he keeps working at me through it, until I’ve finally come down and push weakly at him to get him to stop licking at oversensitive skin.
Then he pulls back, grinning at me with hazy eyes and red, swollen lips. “How’s that, Mistress? Pleased you alright?”
There was definitely some pleasing involved. I laugh a little, breathless, and lean in to kiss him.
It doesn’t take long until I notice that there’s a significant tent in his dress - these things aren’t made for modesty, I bet. I don’t want him to take that dress off, but it’s short enough that I can easily get a hand under it, and he rocks into my touch as I rub his skin-
Wait.
“You’re not wearing underwear?” I ask.
“Didn’t feel right wearin’ boxers under it, but nothin’ else was comfortable,” he says with a shrug. That implies that he tried more ‘fitting’ underwear on, which gives me a lovely mental image of Odasaku in lace panties that I will reflect on later, in private and at great length.
Speaking of length. Odasaku isn’t too loud, but he’s not quiet either - when I rub my thumb across the head, he sighs with obvious pleasure, and speeding up my strokes gets him to murmur, “yeah, yeah, just like that,” as he thrusts into my hand. He’s utterly beautiful like this: flushed cheeks, hair let down, eyelashes fluttering.
He’s beautiful all the time, but I don’t get to see this side of him as often. I can’t possibly tear my eyes away.
Odasaku almost immediately proves me wrong by kissing me, a deep and hungry kiss that has my eyes shut tight. His moans never make it past my lips, even though he gets louder as I continue to stroke him.
His thrusts up into my hand turn erratic, and when he groans low and goes still, something spills on my hand. ...I really don’t want to just wipe this on his dress, or on his bed for that matter, so when I pull my hand out from under his dress I just stare dumbly at the white staining it for a second before licking it off.
He watches me clean off my hand, making a noise that sounds a little bit embarrassed. ...It’s hard to tell because we’re both so flushed already, but I think he just got redder. It’s cute. He’s cute.
When my hands are come-free, Odasaku pulls me close to him. Even with the softness of the dress, his chest is firm, and I rest my head against him without thinking about it.
“...Odasaku,” I murmur.
“Yeah?” Even without looking up, I can hear the smile in his voice.
“I really… think you should wear that more often.”
It’s not what I meant to say at all, but judging by the way he softly kisses my cheek, he probably already knows.