Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10909191.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Persona_5
  Relationship:
      Kawakami_Sadayo/Kurusu_Akira
  Character:
      Kawakami_Sadayo, Kurusu_Akira
  Additional Tags:
      it's_smut, u_kno_what_u_came_here_for_just, pls_no_eye_contact
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-15 Words: 2195
****** Two Methods of Getting Drunk ******
by sugarcaster
Summary
     Akira Kurusu is the too timid boyfriend of Sadayo Kawakami. Sadayo
     Kawakami is the desperate girlfriend of Akira Kurusu. Liquid courage
     yields to liquid courage.
“Oh god, Akira,” moans Sadayo. “You've got magic fingers.”
Sadayo Kawakami is laying face down on Akira Kurusu's borrowed couch, letting
an arm dangle over the edge and scrape gently across the floorboards. She's
letting herself go prone, lazy, eyes half-closed with swatches of light
flicking across her lids Sadayo lets herself feeling his hands move nimbly
across with confidence, working from the lower ribs through to the shoulder
blades and up to the muscles at the base of her neck, tender and tough. Akira
tries not to focus on the fact that the exposure of her lower back is the most
of her he's seen in a minute.
The flora on the city's outskirts pushes swells of humidity in, and the summer
heat is sapping. The day is hinting hardly at dusk and the swelter is puffing
its chest for the exhale into brisk night. It's early enough that lights don't
dot the streets, that the trees rustle quiet where still of night would make
them seem to bark. Akira keeps his palms in chaste flats across Sadayo's back,
feeling curves by suggestion and sidling away from them in all subtlety. His
lips seal in curt blankness, level with the horizon. He pushes up her shoulder
blades with the base of his palms, half up her ribs, and she lets out a sighing
giggle into the couch, and inhales the couch cushion broadly. He's certain that
the couch, specifically where her face is planted, is somewhere that he's
climaxed before, alone. His lip quavers.
“You can quit now,” she says, turning her face to the side to meet his eyes
sideways. “That was so nice, Akira. You're so sweet to me. You still have to do
your summer homework, though.”
She grins with all her teeth. He's sweating.
“You've been working so hard. You deserve a break,” Akira says, tugging her
shirt back down and helping her up. “You want a cup of coffee?”
“Hmm. I'd like to eat soon.”
“What sounds good?”
She sits herself upright and sticks out a leg, smiling smugly. “Well, first a
garden salad with a nice vinaigrette, or maybe a caprese, then a ribeye with
all the trimmings, and a scoop of blueberry pie with fresh ice cream, and after
that... we'll see.”
“Nothing to drink? I'm scandalized,” Akira smirks.
She tucks her legs together and crosses one over the other, outstretching the
back of her hand to Akira. “Garcon! One of your finest beers, if you would.”
He reaches for her hand and laces his fingers into hers, taking it to his lips.
“Anything for you, mademoiselle.”
Their eyes meet and he takes her blush as a cue to turn and walk down to the
kitchen. He immediately breaks into a full face blush. He's been with girls,
even older ones, but he's never been this needed. He can't think straight,
can't effectively play Joker to her. Too much of him and her are touching and
it make her harder to touch.
Rummaging through the fridge, he finds an old pair of tallboys in the back, for
God only knows what aborted celebration of Sojiro's. They stick to the rack of
the fridge as he tries to pull them off. Whatever got them stuck there, it
feels like a portent. He briefly considers trying to bluff his way through a
liquor store run before remembering what his face looks like. Akira's never
seen Sadayo drink, he realizes. The intimacy is easy but light universally in
their relationship and he thinks maybe it's best if they never do anything
sexual. They feel like childhood friends, in a weird, very asymmetrical way.
For all he could do and has done to his peers in that regard, she's the only
person who's ever intimidated him. He's scared of being anything other than
slick, in control, debonair. She makes him nervous
Sadayo is fretting. She's tried her best to keep her relationship fun, light,
flirtatious and mostly legal. He's making it so difficult on her. What in the
fuck was that hand kissing thing about? Who exactly does he think he is? Why is
he not, currently, inside her? Questions abound. She's up off the couch and
pacing, trying to stay casual in her footfalls such that she doesn't play off
through the ceiling that she's pacing. Kayfabe, she thinks. She also thinks
about how he could have and did not cop a feel, and the outline of his dick in
swim trunks. She needs the drink more than she thought. She surreptitiously
dips into her purse and swigs from a flask.
Akira has walked back in quietly. “Hey.”
“Hi!” she screams accidentally.
“This was all we had. It looks okay, right?” Akira says, presenting her one.
The blue and silver label and liberal evocation of American mountains is not
strictly inspiring. She cracks the tab.
“Okay, another thing! What! Do! I get! For working harder than any other
teacher there?” Sadayo Kamakawi is screaming and pacing across the room,
swinging her arms, spilling the precious drops left in her can. “Jack! Shit!”
“Sadayo, I have a question.” Akira says from the couch
“Nah, nah, fuck that. I'm not done talking,” she laughs. “Sit there and look
pretty.”
“How did you get so drunk off of one beer?”
“Are you the cops now? It's cool that they let you be the cops now.”
Akira shifts uncomfortably. “Really, Sadayo, sit down.”
Sadayo tries her best to pull off a cutesy maid glamour, at least as much as
she can with a face flush and sweat on her brow. “Oh, I'm so sorry, Master! Am
I making you mad? I'm such a silly maid sometimes.”
She starts cracking up. Akira stands up and over her and puts a hand on her
shoulder.
“It's no fair,” she mutters, expression faltering.
“What?”
“I'm... better. I'm better than everyone there. I try harder, and I always
have, especially since I dropped my side jobs. No one ever lets me have any
fun,” she says, a choke catching her voice.
Akira can't think of much to say. He hugs her. “What else could I be doing for
you?”
She kisses his forearm, her voice all sorrowful. “Akira, do you even like me?
You don't ever ask to do anything with me. We don't even go out.”
“It'd look bad, right?”
“Not even like that... Like... I have needs, Akira.”
The room goes quiet.
“What kind of needs?”
She breaks out of her embrace and frowns a blushing face at him. “Do I need to
spell it out to you? You're a virgin or something? I need my boyfriend to touch
me, you idiot!”
Akira's face is blushing and his lips are quivering. Sadayo takes the beer out
of his hand and drinks from it. “Oh, honey, are you actually a virgin? I didn't
mean anything by it, just–”
“No, I'm not,” Akira says, looking down. “I'm afraid that I'm not gonna be good
enough for you.”
Sadayo pulls Akira's chin up to look in his eyes. She smells like fruit and
yeast. “Akira, I'm not too fussy. Just... do what you've done with other
girls.”
She sits next to him, grabbing his hand. She whispers, “If it's not good
enough, you can always tell me to act like I like it more. I'm your maid, after
all.”
His hands are shaking. She takes another drink and hikes up her skirt slightly.
The crotch of black underwear is barely visible
“Akira, look at me. Up here.” They're face to face. She puts a hand on the back
of his head and grips his hair, pulling him in to kiss; first his lips, then
pulling back to bite little kisses into his throat.
“Today, Master,” she says, grinning smugly and gripping him harder. “You're
going to learn how to treat a real woman.” His heart's beating so fast that he
feels like he's dying.
Sadayo places a hand on his right upper arm, and the other hand on his wrist,
and pulls it toward her cunt. “Pull my underwear to the side.” He nods and
nervously complies. His thumb brushes her and feels the heat radiating. “Show
me how you touch pussy.” He slides a finger along the lips, feeling the warm
and the wet of her... but just sort of running the finger there. He's staring
down at the gesture of the hand when she laughs a little.
“Akira, do... do other girls like this?”
He keeps staring down at his moving hand, trying not to display embarassment.
“Is it bad? I can do it harder.”
She presses her thumb down hard on the underside of his wrist. He grunts. “Quit
it. Ask me.”
“Sadayo, please show me how to touch you.”
She giggles a fake, bubbly little laugh. “Of course, Master~”
Gripping his wrist, she pulls his fingers back toward him, resting the middle
on her clit. “Rub that, really gently.” He starts working little circles on her
clit and she starts breathing stronger as he goes, picking up his pace, feeling
out pressure and period. “Good boy!” she says, cradling Akira's face in her
hand. He lazily kisses at her palm. He looks so turned on. Joy shoots through
her.
“Keep your fingers wet, and go faster.”
Akira wants to tease a little. “Yes, teacher.” Sadayo loses composure and moans
escape her mouth.
“Put a finger in me.” he complies; she's hotter and wetter than anyone else
he's touched. His cock twitches when she falls onto his shoulders and wraps
around him.
“Akira. Akira, please keep going. My sweet boy. Oh.”
He can't take it anymore. He reaches for his cock and meets her hand on it.
“Akira. Take your finger out of me. Smear it on yourself.”
They both take off his pants and he rubs her wetness onto himself. She grips
him and starts rubbing the same little circles into the head. Tears shake into
his eyes; his hips and knees quiver and he gasps. No one's ever touched him
like this before. He's a drooling mess almost instantly.
“Master, you're so ma~anly!” she says, jerking him off and gleefully pressing a
knee into his ribs.
“Sadayo, I'm going to come. Slow down.”
“Let me see you come, Akira.”
His hips buck like a dog's as he thrusts his last and she cups the head of his
cock with her palm, let it drool into her hand as it winnows down to softness.
Akira groans. “Oh my god. I've never felt like that before.”
Sadayo reaches over and takes another sip from her can. “You're so cute. You're
so easy to get off. Have you ever been touched like that?”
Akira tries to sit up. “Usually, it's not lubricated, I guess.”
“Oh my god, you really are a teen boy.”
She tents her fingers on his chest. “I didn't come yet, Akira. Be a good boy
for me and help me finish.”
“How?”
She drags herself over to kneel over his face. “Eat me out.”
Before he can say anything, she lowers herself onto his lips. He grips her ass
in both hands.
“Okay, now you're getting it,” she says, husky from the exhaustion. “Took you
long enough.”
She grinds against his face, drenching him nose-to-chin, humming about how she
has to take care of him so much, how he does so little to treat her, how she
deserves to do this to him all day if she feels like it. He's in heaven, all
the wet and hot and smell of her, the downward look of smugness and brain-
melting pleasure mingled, her lips pouted and passing breaths, her mess of
hair. She reaches to her bag and pours the contents of the flask in a slow
stream onto his forehead, screwing with his concentration, as she jeers that
*that's* what you should keep around to get your girlfriend loose. And the
swirls of long, nimble tongue across labia and clit bring parallel impulses to
their peak. As she comes, Sadayo pisses onto Akira's face, and the release is
so strong she falls backward, moaning and laughing and gasping.
There's a long mutual bout of laying back and breathing hard before Akira
speaks up. “Sadayo?”
“Akira?”
“You're really fucking hot and I want to do that, exclusively, instead of
anything else in my life.”
“Some of us.... have jobs. And hangovers, real soon.”
The rest of the night is intermittent naps and soda sips as she's moved over to
his futon to sleep it off. At least once she wakes up to see him tending to her
and she gets teary, saying, “You're the nicest boy who's ever seen my pussy,”
and by the end of the night he just replies, “I know.” He thinks about waking
her for the night to get her home to her apartment but the sound of her snoring
assures him that there's no probability of that being any kind of good idea. He
kisses her forehead and adjourns to her side, and she grunts gently in her
sleep. Cicadas click through a cool night, as the air drifts in from the open
window. It's otherwise silent, finally.
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