Summary: Yes, the infamous Orihara Izaya bought a sex toy, sue him.
It was mostly curiosity that pushed him to buy it. Surely it wasn't that good, the reviewers were probably wildly exaggerating the sensations they described. Surely it wasn't as intense as they all claimed.
He was just curious of the extend of those exaggerations, really.
So he bought it to try it himself.
Curiosity
Posted: 27/05/2020
Status: Completed
Author's note: Don't know why I wrote this but I did.
Shizuo doesn't physically appear in the fic, so I didn't tag him, this is all Izaya and his imagination.
Note that this fic contains dub-con, borderline non-con, but it's all imaginary.
Also this wasn't beta read so there may be some mistakes and weird-sounding sentences.
Enjoy.
When the package arrived at his door, Izaya giddily took it inside with excitement on par with that of a child finding presents for them under the Christmas tree, earning himself a questioning glance from Namie, who then shrugged, assuming it to be either something incredibly shady or ridiculous… or both, knowing her employer.
He simply dropped it in his room, then went back to work, giggling from time to time.
“You’re being creepier than usual.” His secretary calmly said as she sorted files she was pretty sure he messed up on purpose to give her more work.
“That’s not very nice of you, my dear Namie~” he answered in a sing-song voice, unperturbed by her cold words and grimace at the term of endearment. He pushed back his chair from his desk, spun around in it a bit, then stopped, only to turn back to her perplexed face.
“You know what, since I’m in such a great mood, you can even leave earlier today, aren’t I such a good boss?” He grinned at her as she immediately started packing her things and left without a word, visibly happy to be away from her obviously demented employer. He laughed at that and waved at her as she slammed the door behind her, possibly to annoy him.
Too bad for her, he really was in too good a mood today.
He shut down his computer and went upstairs to his room, where the inconspicuous package was waiting for him. After locking the door and closing the blinds, for good measure even though he knew very well nobody would even enter his apartment thanks to the automatic locks, least of all his room (well, except maybe a certain brute who’d destroy all his doors regardless of any security system, but he’s surely at work, and Izaya hasn’t sent anyone after him today, so he has no reason to come by), he went to open the package waiting patiently on his bed.
The packaging itself was discreet, as expected (though he wouldn’t have minded if it wasn’t, he was sure Namie’s face would have been priceless) and not excessive. He quickly discarded most of the packaging, only keeping the instruction manual and the silicone toy at hand.
Yes, the infamous Orihara Izaya bought a sex toy, sue him.
__
It was mostly curiosity that pushed him to buy it. Surely it wasn’t that good. The reviewers were probably wildly exaggerating the sensations they described. Surely it wasn’t as intense as they all claimed.
He was just curious about the extend of those exaggerations, really.
So he bought it to try it himself.
__
He looked over the dark purple toy. The design was simple. It had one part clearly meant to be inserted, thicker in the middle with some ridges, and thinner at the tip and base. Then, the toy angled, some kind of suction cup at the other end, with the controls on the other side. According to the reviews, the suction was the best part.
Well, he thought, a determined glint in his eyes, he’ll be the judge of that, won’t he?
__
Izaya almost went to lie on his bed, but decided against it in case the reviews were as truthful as they claimed. The results tended to be… messy, sometimes. He instead settled for the leather chair, dropping the toy and a bottle of lube on the desk.
He then proceeded to remove his pants and underwear, carelessly throwing them on the bed, and made himself comfortable on the chair, spreading his legs for easier access.
He opened the bottle and squeezed some lube on his fingers, which he casually brought to his cunt, massaging his entrance before slipping one finger inside.
He calmly fingered himself, adding a second finger after a while to stretch himself a bit. It was nice, but not that pleasurable. He’d always been more of a “rubbing” kinda guy, feeling much more pleasure in massaging his clit than his insides. Supposedly, the internal part of the toy specifically stimulates the “g-spot”, so maybe it’ll differ from doing it with only his fingers. He’s never been able to reach it on his own, after all.
Deciding he was prepared enough, he took the toy, slicking it with lube for good measure, and slowly inserted it, the other part staying outside and finally aligning with his clit once it was completely inside.
Now, the fun part.
He pressed on the outer side of the toy, turning it on at the lowest setting. The inserted part started to vibrate in a slow, regular pattern, while the suction cup started gently sucking on his clit and—
Oh , he thought.
Oh, this is nice.
He could definitely make a habit of using this. Actually, he will, definitely.
He laid back in the chair and closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle, but persistent massaging of his most intimate areas, and let out a pleased sigh.
As the toy worked its magic, he let his imagination wander.
He imagined hands caressing his thighs and stomach, wandering all over his body, removing his shirt. A rough hand teasing one nipple, a mouth sucking on the other.
He pushed a button. The rhythm increased.
Then he was on his back, held down by faceless brutes in a dirty alley. They did whatever they wanted with his body. They sucked, bit, slapped. They used him, called him names.
“Slut”
“Whore”
“Cum dump”
He moaned, pushing the button again. The rhythm became irregular.
He was violently turned around, face down in the dirt, ass up as hands gripped his hips, holding them steady. The smell of smoke permeating the air.
The brutes were gone now, instead, he was at the mercy of a beast, to be bred like an animal. The beast entered him without preparation; he screamed.
Out of pain or pleasure, it didn’t matter. He was the beast’s to use as it saw fit.
Yet again, the button was pressed.
The beast pulled out, then slammed back in, with no consideration for its partner. That’s perfect, that’s how he wanted it to be. The pounding was violent, irregular.
Unpredictable.
He groaned. Soon .
The beast bred him like that for what felt like hours. He was oversensitive and couldn’t think straight anymore, eyes rolling back and tongue lolling out. The beast put more and more weight on him until its face was by his neck, never once stopping its pounding. His legs trembled.
The beast started fucking him faster, harder, crushing him with inhuman strength, then all at once, bit him, marking him. Blonde hair filled his peripheral vision and cum his insides.
“S-Shizu…cha–”
He tensed up and came all over the chair. The toy dutifully kept massaging him as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, limbs trembling as he saw nothing but white.
Finally, he went slack and immediately turned off the toy, too tired and sensitive to pull it out, and passed out right there.
__
He didn’t black out long, probably just a few minutes, if the light coming from behind the blinds was any sign. When he opened his eyes, he had three consecutive thoughts.
The first was ’ Well, the reviews weren’t exaggerated ’.
The second, when he looked down at his completely soaked chair, was ’ Good thing I didn’t do this on the bed ’.
The third, when he realized just which name he moaned out as he came, was ‘S hit ’.
Without a word, he reached between his legs, slowly pulled out the still slick toy of his oversensitive hole, and went to work, mechanically cleaning the chair and himself with some tissues. He then went to the bathroom on very shaky legs to wash the toy, removed his shirt and binder, and took a cold shower.
__
He ended up having to sit in the shower, his legs deciding to give out under him. He came out, gave the toy in the sink an accusatory glare, as if it was the cause of his overactive imagination, then sighed dejectedly and went to sleep, his trembling body and dazed mind begging for sleep.
He dreamt of powerful arms holding him gently, of a deep voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear, one hand playing with his hair while the other slowly caressed his back.
Really, it was all that toy’s fault. And definitely not his own imagination and repressed desires. Nope.
Author's note: If you're curious, the toy Izaya bought (and so unfairly accused of corrupting his thoughts) was inspired by this one : link